Page 45 of Savage Protector

I didn’t care about death or addiction. Only the dreams. They made me happy because Houston was there. He was always there…waiting for me.

So I played the game. Obedience and cooperation. I became a willing doll for them to play with because I knew that if I was really really good, there was a chance I could return to the man I couldn’t forget.

The nun seemed to know this and she played her games as well. Always leaving me guessing until the moment she either pulled out her special box or slipped out of my room without so much as a word. Each time she did that it threatened to drive me insane.

I stared up at the nondescript white ceiling above me as the food she’d forced me to consume churned in my stomach. I didn’t really have to worry about going insane because I believed I was already there.

On the days the nun did not bring her box, I begged her to help me. But we both knew that’s not what they were waiting for. It wasn’t the drugs I was supposed to beg for. They were conditioning me for something entirely different.

If I wanted more I would soon have to beg for his cock. Marco never let me forget even though his visits were less frequent than before. I didn’t know what was going on or why I saw more of her than him, but I had a feeling my time was running out.

Not just because Marco’s patience had worn thin. No. My reality was much much worse. I was beginning to think I wanted his cock.

I’d begun to fantasize and I could no longer tell my truth from my desperation as I considered willingly dropping down on my knees to take his cock in my mouth or any other orifice of his choosing not only without complaint but also with a smile on my face.

I had been trained.

I was almost ready.

I knew it. They knew it.

The next time he came to my room I would beg and then pray for my sweet, blissful reward.

He wanted me to be his whore.

I was finally ready to become a whore.

It didn’t matter that the fantasies made me sick. Or that the nun had to untie me and drag me to the toilet so I could empty the contents of my stomach. Or that the sound of my retching echoed through my head and drummed constant against my nerves.

When I fell back against the cool tiled floor and stared up at the discolored ceiling there, I felt the one question surface I could never answer. Not why. I already knew the answer to that one.

How? That was the only question I ever asked. How had this happened to me?

My father was the most powerful man in Seattle, feared by all, and I had been his princess until the day my mother died. Tears leaked from my eyes and slid down to the floor.

My beautiful, beautiful mother with her caramel colored skin and soulful dark eyes filled with so much love for a--monster.

I only hoped she never knew what really lurked beneath his facade.

I didn’t. At least not then.

I once thought he loved me too...

Now I know better.

I have learned my lesson.

Now I am ready.

Tomorrow I will be a whore.

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