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But the more human parts of me were… intrigued. Bearing down on that thick, waxy, plug left me gasping as if it were something else deep inside me. Little shockwaves warned me not to do it again, fluttering about that plug, simulating climax.
No… not simulating.
Sensitive as I was, I orgasmed.
Quietly as I could, gasping little sips of air to keep my unexpected pleasure silent. Hand pressed between my legs as if I could hold it in, make it stop.
A minute later, the waving cramp that churned all he left inside me settled. And I knew better than to try such internal explorations again.
Not unless I wanted to draw his attention and encourage more than I could handle.
I had to accept what he meticulously left there, carry it under my hearts, and leave the plug alone or my body would make me suffer pleasure I had not intended.
A true addiction indeed.
“What have I done?” I had asked explicitly to be treated in the exact way his filthy books described a female. Practically begged, because I knew it would feel better than being so sad.
And yes, he had enthusiastically given all I could physically want. But he also held me, spoke softly to me, kept me dazed enough that the heartbreak didn’t hurt so much, while also giving me an outlet to process how truly awful I felt.
Despite all the pleasure, I’d been wretched.
And despite sleep, I felt exhausted.
I felt drained. Understood just how easy it was to surrender total control to someone stronger, bitterly acknowledged there was something very freeing in knowing your mate might manipulate and coerce you but could never hurt you.
Even that night on his office floor had not amounted to so much as a bruise.
Not that I’d forgiven what he’d done.
But I had to set it aside.
I could not be angry about what I could not change and grieve the mother who didn’t love me.
I wasn’t strong enough for both.
And maybe he knew that. Maybe that was why he let me meet her as quickly as he did.
His battle had been easily won, and I was utterly destroyed.
On my knees, begging for him to make me feel safe. To make me feel wanted. To love me, even if he might not know how.
Even if I didn’t know how to receive it.
High as I was, he could have done anything to me, regardless of my sober consent.
And he had not abused his privilege.
Because his war was not yet over.
I did not love him in return.
Stretching my legs, I wiggled my toes, my naked skin soaking up the morning sun. Had I still been living at the academy, I would have already ran through morning drills and most likely been patrolling the farmlands at this hour.
How strange it was to sleep in. Not only that, but to have such a comfortable bed in such a beautiful room.
Clean, fresh air always available to me.
And food. I very much liked the food.
