Page 89 of Carry Your Debt

“This is for not trusting me and fighting your need to let go,” Zeus continues, still in the same harsh, commanding tones.Crack.

“Three.”

“For turning my head with your cunt in these pants during the Labor,” he hisses.Crack.

“Four,”I warble in reply. I can feel the slickness over every inch of my bare pussy and inner thighs. All the way down to where the offending pants bracket my knees.

“For wearing nothing underneath them,” he barks on his fifth swing.

“Five,” I cry out.

My pussy does too. She’s weeping real tears.

Zeus growls and everything clenches.

“And this is for the hundred lives I’ll have to take so everyone knows exactly who you belong to.”

The sixth and final impact of his belt sends me sailing over the edge. Literally and figuratively. My orgasm shudders through my entire pelvis, every muscle and nerve clamping down around nothing at the same time as my entire body pitches forth with the impact.

“Fuck.”

I’m not entirely sure which one of us says it, or if we both shouted it—because just as I’m sagging under the weight of boneless limbs, I feel a different impact—the hot stripes of Zeus’s cum landing across both my cheeks.

His hands land on the hollow of my waist as he collapses around me, careful not to press his hips against my abused cheeks.

“Maybe one day I’ll learn to live with your Boys,” he concedes, breath warm against my neck, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you aremine.”

The worst thingabout losing out on the First Labor victory?

It wasn’t our failure to decipher the full scope of the directive before the rest of the competition. It wasn’t even the fact that one of the aforementioned competitors was a complete and total unknown.

It was the absolute radio silence from Sebastian.

The weight of it hung over us all like the Sword of Damocles.

Not even Dominic had uttered a word on how deeply his disappointment ran; he’d simply accepted the first of my Symposium reports in silence before marching straight back home to Lexington.

And not knowing how the Gray Man was going to retaliate burned like hot coals in my stomach.All hours of the day. It also didn’t help matters that my head was constantly on the verge of splitting right down the middle—and absolutely nothing in my usual repertoire seemed to be helping.

The side effect is a sort of state of involuntary detox, yet I'm still expected to lurk around this school—sussing out and ambushing potential recruitment targets like some kind of criminally-minded charity mugger.

If only I could have Jax come to my dorm every night and work his magic.

Is it possible to get spanking funded as a therapy line item?

My head would live in empty bliss if so.

“Does Papa Grayson know you’re hooking up withbothhis sons?”

It’s not so much the words themselves as it is the graveled accent that pulls me up short, like someone just yanked on my strings. It’s an accent that definitely shouldnotexist inside the hallways of Rox Academy and it snaps my head up immediately.

Over to where I find one of the Donato twins leaning casually against the entrance to the senior staff lounge, arms crossed and a dangerous glint in his eye.

The single, white streak bisecting the shock of dark, chestnut hair, marks him as the elder of the two.

And the most ruthless.

“Raphael, what in thefuckare you doing here?” I hiss, eyes darting to the staffroom over one of his muscled shoulders.

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