Page 209 of Doubts & Fears

“Oh god, it hurts so much, Ivan, please. Let me go.”

She sobbed harder than I’d ever heard her before. I pulled out, and she collapsed from the pain. I stepped away, reached for my sweats to pull them up and froze. My cock was coated with her blood. My eyes flew to her, and it was like I was in a horror show, featuring me as the villain.

Her hands moved to cup her pussy and when she pulled back, fresh blood coated them. So much it was startling. She tried to stand but swayed and had to steady herself against the wall. My cum poured down her leg in a sticky, mess. Disgusted with myself, I yanked my sweats up.

What the hell had I done?

"My beloved?"

I slammed my palms against the wall and screamed, letting all my inner rage out. All the color drained from her face and stark fear stared back. She cowered, and I knew she was truly afraid.

“Ostav’te menya.”Leave me. I turned away from her.

Chapter 67

Kinsley

Show Me

Shakily, I pulled my shorts on and ran to my room, feeling the sting of my torn flesh.What happened? My gentle giant was no more. In his place was a stranger. One I had created in the span of seconds. In my selfishness, I wanted to break him. The reality of it made my skin crawl.

I needed to be clean, to wash away the stupidity of what I had done. Choking in disgust, I filled the tub and stepped into the hot water. Heat licked up my skin, sharp and biting. A gasp caught in my throat, but I didn’t pull back. I needed this. To sear away the filth consuming me. My breath shuddered as I sank deeper.

Each moment was on replay in my mind. The world outside seemed distant, blurred by the shame of what I’d done. Eventually, I got out, the water having turned cold. The heaviness of my heart as I dried off increased.

I climbed into my bed and lay there in a daze, my body hurting and heavy with exhaustion. Shock coursed through me like an electric current.

What the hell had I done?

I fought sleep, knowing the memories would come. But when exhaustion won, my eyes drifted shut. But this time was different—strange. I was instantly there, but the feelings were detached. I could see little Mischa and the other three girls. I was a bystander, watching and observing. Marcel stood beside me. His voice rose.

“Where did your fears of gags and whips originate? Show me.”

My brain pulled the file from the dusty archives of my memory bank and readily supplied him with the answer to the question. In my dream, I pushed play for him.

“It’s a special treat today, girls,” our instructor said as we sat, our backs ramrod straight, our hands clasped in front of us on our desks.

“Today, you will observe what it’s like to be owned. To be a slave with a Gorean Master. Come along. We’ll be witnessing itfirsthand.”

We had previously read about this type of practice but hadn’t yet seen it. Walking single file to the two-way mirrored room, we were told to stand in front of the mirror. X was brought into the room by the Collector.

Whenever the lesson revolved around instruction and was not one used to terrorize or shock us, X was the participant. Not that what we saw wasn’t shocking or didn’t terrorize us. The Mask sometimes needed the woman compliant, and X was the closest thing they’d get.

“Position,” the Collector said with supreme authority. X immediately, in perfect form, dropped to her knees and spread them wide. Her hands were by her thighs, palms outward, head held up but eyes down.

“Who remembers the name of this position?” our instructor asked.

We all replied “Nadu” at the same time.

The Collector stood beside X. “Look at me,” he commanded. She looked up, eyes wide, her gaze fearful.

“Tell me, what are you?”

“A girl is a kajira, Master,” she responded.

“Girls, what does that mean?” our instructor asked. There was a pause on the other side of the room as if it was a coordinated question.

All four of us spoke at once. “A kajira is a sex slave, a slave whore.”

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