Page 61 of Savage

Stef

I cry for a long time—long after my sobs turn into hiccups and I feel like I can’t cry anymore. But I can. There are always, always more tears, no matter how much I try to avoid crying.

Giulio had hated that. The men at the club had hated that.

It had been a lie that Hunter had liked it, or he might’ve taken pity on me.

The thought is almost enough to make me laugh—not with humor, of course, but with something far more bitter. I fucked up, and I fucked up bad, but all I can think about is how fucking good it felt to be high for even a few minutes before Hunter had gone and ruined it for me.

I should be angry too. I have every right to be. I’d earned those drugs.

But all I feel is hollow.

Time passes, and I drowse, waking and falling back asleep out of misery and boredom. He leaves me alone, and I’m not sure if it’s been minutes or hours. Not even a day, probably, though I’m thirsty.

Thirsty, and I really, really have to pee.

I try to call out to Hunter. “Master? Master, I need to… to use the bathroom. Master?”

No response comes, and I’m not surprised, but it does make me feel more desperately alone. I have time to think about how much I screwed up, how much I took a good thing and threw it away just like he might throw me away after this.

But his family had been so horrible, and he’d done nothing to protect me from them. He’d thrown me into the lion’s den, and I might as well have been covered in blood with how quickly they’d descended upon me.

I should be used to people looking down on me.

It still hurts.

I call out again after another few minutes; again, there’s nothing.

I whimper, squirming on the bed. I have to hold it. If I wet the bed like a child, he’ll probably make me sit in it. Maybe he intends to just leave me here forever, letting me slowly waste away in this bed where I’m alone with my thoughts.

They’re horrible thoughts.

I keep thinking about Dylan, about the club, about how many mistakes I’d made to get to this point, and I can’t escape them. When I do manage to think about something else, it’s only about the urgent press of my bladder, the way I feel as though I can’t hold it much longer.

I yell for Hunter again, thrashing in my bonds.

He’s either aware and ignoring me, or he has just relegated me to being less than nothing. Dread keeps pooling in my stomach, rising as the need to piss gets even greater.

Until finally, I start to sob again as a pool of warmth settles around me from where I can’t hold it back any longer.

Cum in my hair, piss in the bed beneath me, the ache of the need to get more drugs, to lose myself… I close my eyes and cry all over again.

The piss has cooled by the time the door finally opens.

Hunter enters, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Filthy all over,” he says as he comes to stand next to the bed.

I flinch away from him as best I can, closing my eyes and trying desperately not to cry. I manage, for once, for even just a moment. “I’m sorry, Master,” I croak out. “I know I’m… I’m…” I dissolve into tears. “Please don’t throw me away. Please. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I’ll do anything anyway because you own me, I promise.”

“People always say things when they’re desperate.” Hunter lifts his hand up, and I realize he’s holding a phone.

Fear races through me. I don’t know what he’s planning, who he’s planning to call, but it’s not good. What if he wants to sell me? What if things get even worse than this?

“Please don’t,” I whisper. “Please don’t get rid of me. Master, please, I’m so sorry. I’m desperate and afraid but I want… I want to stay with you. I want to learn to be better for you.”

“Or I can simply call Giulio and get a different girl,” Hunter says flatly. “I should have insisted he show me another girl that first day, anyway.”

I whimper. “Master, please. Please don’t. Please. I… I…” I don’t know what to say to convince him. I have no idea how to appeal to him. “He’s probably busy. Or asleep. We don’t need to bother him. Let me show you how good I can be tonight.”

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