Page 40 of Corrupt Game

Hate for him filled my being. Disgust at my body's wanton betrayal.

I wanted to jump from the couch, but I was still too tired, so I stood and paced slowly. The negative energy had to be pushed out of me.

What had he reduced me to?

A begging dog that responded on command.

How could I have let this happen?

I was always so strong.

I laid on the bed which was my place of solace. Somewhere that he wasn’t or hadn’t been yet.

I fell asleep, but I didn’t know for how long. I squirmed after a few moments of laying there.

Was it getting hotter in here?

There wasn’t even anything to use as a fan.

I got up and walked over to the thermostat. The light was gone, but the braille reading was available.

Braille wasn’t one of my strongest, or even dependable skills, but since the lights went out, I’d used whatever I had. I’d discovered the different symbols for the numbers during my college years as I ran my fingers over the spines of books. That was what I had to use as reference.

Eighty-two degrees.

No wonder I was so hot. Much more of this and I’d start dripping sweat.

Had he been raising the temperature every day?

That bastard wasn’t just trying to break me, he really wanted me to give in to his desires.

The elevator door opened.

I could tell by the sounds it made but didn’t make any move to go and put my clothes back on.

If he wanted to play games, then let him look at me in my boy short underwear.

With a quick turn to the right, I ran right into his bare chest.

Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?

My hands started to run up his body and I could make out his defined abs and strong pectoral muscle, but I recoiled just in time. Just before it would have been irrevocable.

Clothes. I needed my clothes back on even if I roasted. I fumbled around the furniture until I was by the bed so I could put my shirt and skirt back on.

When he left, I would take a cold shower and wash my clothes out. It wouldn’t take long for them to dry in this sweltering heat.

My hands patted around the mattress. Where were they?

I’d left them right here on the end of the bed so I could put them on later.

That bastard took them.

“Did you take my clothes?” My quiet tone was an indication that I was furious. It should have alerted him to the fact that I was pissed off.

“Yes, I did.” He laughed from the couch area. “You won’t be needing them anymore.”

“Come sit.” His tone was demanding. In response, I yanked the sheet off the bed and made a toga to cover all of my bits.

---