Page 13 of Their Cruel Love

When she begins to strip, unbuttoning the dress at the front to reveal glimpses of a red bra, before letting the dress pool at her feet, I appreciate the mask and how it hides my face.

I’ve not seen her half-naked for seven years. I never quite got Phoebe Bartholemew into bed.

The lines of her stomach plunge into concealment beneath a triangle of red lace. Razor will certainly…ninety-nine percent certain, get her to remove those red panties later.

Not fucking her if I get the chance? My bet is going to be thrown to the winds. I know this for a truth, once I see her in that red underwear, and she turns as if to show me the gorgeous swell of her ass. Groaning aloud would a mistake. I swallow and remain silent.

Her mouth twists. She gestures helplessly at the underwear. “I’d rather keep these on? Please?”

Fuck.I close my eyes. The mixture of desperation, hope, and begging in her voice has undone me. I have to resist adjusting myself or striding to her and grabbing her hair and…stuff.

Breathe.

“Adjudicator?” Razor asks.

I nod ayesto him, but beneath this mask I’m seething. Razor knows it, from his sly amusement.

While she raises the scarlet dress we’ve chosen for her, I make a note to myself to not to sit beside her in the plane when we cross the channel. The dress falls down her; the cloth flows like thick red water, gathering above her breasts and hips for a second, as if to catch its breath before slipping further. The skirt ends mid-calf in an irregular hem. Pearls glint from where they are sewn.

That dress will not be allowed at the party, of course. A submissive is rarely left fully clothed.

What if I reveal my identity to her, once there?

What would she do? Scream? Plead? I like the fantasy of her pleading with me, to stop me from doing something. Like whipping her.

Or fucking her in front of the CNC Fraternity. Some of them would know her family. That would be perfect. The bet with Razor is nothing compared to this.

As we head to the door to rendezvous with the limo Razor has had parked outside, my fantasy expands. Make her bleed for me and come at the same time. Make her cry my name as she climaxes with my dick in her ass, while tied up and unable to do more than whimper because I’ve gagged her with a humongous dildo.

Not bad. I’m going to Hell for this if I do it with malice in mind.

I watch the sway of her body as Razor ushers her out the front door. The guard holds it open.

Wearesupposed to be figuring out if women are being kidnapped by CNC frat members. But she must know very little. That her friend is gone, yes, but it’s up to us to do the hard work and check the facts. And now I must interrogate Razor. His hints about criminal abuses by other members must be assessed.

Would I get a bonus if this led to exposing a bad apple? Or would I get shunned or worse?

Fucking with her is simpler…it’s the delicious cream on the top.

My focus drops to her ass again, where the dress caresses her shape and gathers in her cleft in the middle.Damn.

7

Phoebe

I have stuffed the USB inside myself inside a Ziploc bag. Most people—make that anyone with common sense—would laugh at this, but everything else sort of oozed and fell out almost instantly. Even the small tampon-shaped screw-top container. Laughable, and I may end up with an infection…if I don’t turn into a female digitally powered terminator.

I amuse myself no end.Ha. Humor makes the agonizing bearable.

I’m sitting on this sleek private plane next to Razor, with Brutus Skull-face in the seat behind us—I finally have a name for this man who seems more familiar every time I meet him. I worry that I will plop out this incriminating evidence while walking from the plane, or along a hallway in this castle we aregoing to. I have to keep it inside until I find a good laptop to plug it into.

Clench, girl, clench.

This is the best and worst distraction, when I should be thinking about how to ID the criminal who snatched Milli.

Except the nightmare has changed. Last night, I saw the woman’s hair spilling onto the bed they have her pinned to. It’s bright pink. Unless they forced Milli to dye her hair, this is not her.

Maybe all this was for nothing? Maybe it’s just, purely, a nightmare? I hope so from the depths of my useless heart.

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