Page 15 of Regressive

“We have.” He smiles and I can’t help the surge of pride in my chest. Praise and favor from Anex are all I’ve ever longed for. Even now, caught in this web between him and his son, the feeling emerges. “As long as we keep him and Imogene moving forward, I have faith Rex will come to his senses.”

“And Imogene?” I ask, not meaning to. “What happens to her in the end?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, but says, “Imogene has always been on a unique path—almost like she’s been on a special journey. One that has led her to this point. What happens to her next is up to her, Rex and all of you assisting her.”

Ah. There it is. The subtle threat that underlines all of Anex’s directives. Do as I say. Follow the rules. Make me happy. And if you do those things, everything will be okay. If not?

Well, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

He opens up the cabinet door and attached to the wall are a variety of instruments—all used during Correction. I’ve been trained to use many of these and watch as he removes a brown leather strap off of one of the hooks.

My heart skips a beat when I see it, but I keep my emotions close. I learned a long time ago that if Anex sees a reaction, he files it away for later. He holds it up. “I think she’s ready.”

I’m not so sure about that.

A knock on the outer door cuts our conversation short, and I enter the basement, leaving him. I keep my eyes away from the framed artwork on the wall—the image of Serendee. A sun moon and crown combination. Nearly every room in Serendee is monitored. This one is no different.

I rest the strap on the table in the center of the room and then open the door. Imogene stands on the other side, her expression innocent, but I see the spark of fire in her eyes. She craves these sessions, the feeling of surrendering herself to pain while seeking the pathway to redemption. A flicker of energy thrums between us that neither of us acknowledges. She steps into the room, the scent of her shampoo wafting behind her, and I try not to think about what it was like to have my nose buried into it while she leaned against me, and Silas buried himself between her legs.

I shut the door, making sure it’s secure. “Do you want to tell me why you’re here today?”

She stops in front of the table centered in the room and stares at the strap. Her skin pales and her fingers twist together. I see the long swallow in her throat and the way she forces her eyes away from the instrument, to look at me. “I stole and ate half a cake during Anex’s birthday celebration,” she starts, as if the Lapses can’t help but fall from her tongue. “I tried not to eat today, but I felt lightheaded.”

“You’ve been given permission to expand your caloric intake,” I remind her. “And I suspect stealing that cake was more Rex’s idea that yours.”

“It’s my job to keep him on the path.”

“It’s your job to keep him in Serendee. Focused. You did that.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If that’s all you’re coming to me with, you probably should leave.”

It’s a ploy, of course, a way to get her to tell me more—confess to deeper Lapses. I wonder if she’ll tell me about the women’s meeting, if she’ll betray the secret she promised to uphold?

“You’re going to make me say it?” Her accusation is thick. “Even though you were there?”

I hold her eye. “Part of the process is admitting the Lapse. No one can own that but you.”

“Fine,” she says defiantly. “I had sex with a man that is not my future mate. I kissed another man. I received pleasure from a third.” The look she gives me is pointed—accusing. “And then when my Ordered came to claim me I fought him off.” Her chin lifts. “Is that enough?”

“It should be.” I cross my arms over my chest. “But even with those Lapses, I’m not sure I should be correcting you now that you and Rex have bonded. Things have changed.”

A small tremor runs through her. She wants the Correction. Even if she hasn’t done anything to deserve it—sheneedsit. “Rex has given his explicit permission for us to continue our… relationships. Approved or not, it’s wrong. I know it in my soul.”

And there it is. That’s what sent her here. Rex uses her for his own needs and then tosses her to the wolves like scraps of meat.

“Please, Levi.” Her voice is soft, barely audible. “I need this.”

The truth is that I was always going to give her what she wanted. It’s my job to make her work for it—to suffer through the moment. Enlightenment doesn’t come easy. Not for any of us.

I give her a small nod and command, “Lift your skirt and bend over the desk.”

Relief rushes out of her, and she reaches under her skirt. Hopping on one foot, she removes a pair of white, lace, panties and rests them on the table. Her hands shake as she gathers the fabric, balling it around her waist. She knows the position: bent over, hands flat on the table, backside propped up and exposed. I’m hard before she bares herself, the smooth, pale, flesh healed from our last session. I know she’s already warm between her legs and soon she’ll be slippery and wet.

This is as much of a test for me as it is to her. I reach around her, grabbing the strap. The leather is cool and smooth in my hand, similar to her pale backside. I run my hand over the skin, gentle, getting a feel for her supple flesh. My heart pounds as I grip the strap in my fingers, knowing this girl has done nothing to deserve this type of punishment, yet also very aware that she’s been conditioned to want it.

Just as I’ve been conditioned to give it.

I swing my arm back and strike her against her backside, my teeth grinding from the force. The power surges her forward and a small cry escapes her mouth. Hearing that sound brings up a swell of desire, but I swallow it back. This session is about training Imogene, not fulfilling my needs, and although we crossed that line once, it was in the dark hours of the night, in our home. Not here.

Not with Anex watching.

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