My whole body is shaking. Aching. The need between my thighs is almost painful.
And the worst part—the absolutely horrifying part—is that I'm not just crying from fear or humiliation.
I'm also crying because he stopped.
Because I wanted him to keep going. Wanted him to make me come even though it meant giving him that power over me.Wanted to feel something other than guilt and terror and the crushing weight of impossible choices.
I press my hands between my thighs, and they come away wet.
His warning echoes in my head:Don't touch yourself tonight.
But the ache is unbearable. The need is consuming. And I'm so close to just—
My phone buzzes.
I pull it out with shaking hands.
Patrick.
Got the photos. Good work. But I need more. His home security codes. You have 48 hours.
I stare at the message, and reality crashes back in.
I just betrayed Lev. Photographed his schedule. Gave Patrick exactly what he needed to plan whatever he's planning.
And Lev caught me.
Knows I'm a spy. He didn’t kill me.
He probably thinks I’m working for some useless person. That’s probably why I’m still alive because he didn’t kill me.
Instead, he punished me with pleasure I couldn't have.
And I let him.
Melted into it. Begged for it. Would have given him anything if he'd just let me come.
What's wrong with me?
I curl into a ball on my floor and cry for real this time.
Not from arousal or denial or humiliation.
But from the crushing realization that I'm trapped.
Patrick will kill my family if I don't give him more.
Lev will kill me when he decides I'm more trouble than I'm worth.
And some sick part of me is more terrified of Lev's punishment than Patrick's threats.
Because at least Patrick's violence is straightforward.
But Lev? Lev knows exactly how to break me. Knows my body responds to him even when my mind knows better. Knows I'm twisted enough to get wet when he threatens me.
And he's going to use that against me until there's nothing left.
I lie on my floor and listen to him moving around on the other side of the wall.
