Page 9 of You Only Die Twice

Even if it means I have to see the nurse again, at least it would be somebody. Several moments pass, and I realize I’m not even breathing. Forcing a deep breath into my lungs, I step backward, sighing as the fear eases up into something far more manageable.

At least that’s another safeguard from me crawling the expanse of the room as the main character did in the book. I can’t even walk to the door; how in the hell would I crawl there? To test my theory, I get onto my hands and knees and crawl towards the far wall.

It feels ridiculous to recreate a terrifying scene from such a short story, but I have to know. I have to see just how far my depths of delirium can take me. Shoulder to the wall, I crawl until I meet an obstacle.

Turning, I crawl around, keeping my body in close contact with anything solid, and continue my journey. I do this until I reach the threshold of the door. Once more, the fear slams into me, robbing me of my breath, but somehow, it’s not as terrifying as earlier. Perhaps I’ve found a way to work past it. I found a loophole in my fear.

Though I’m still not able to bring myself to touch the doorknob, I’m closer than I was earlier. Smiling, I turn around and go back the way I came, crawling until I reach the far wall once more. I stand and brush off my legs, frowning as I glance at the main entrance to my room.

There’s something odd here, and in my gut, it feels like it’s more than just some phantom sickness. Though, if I was already sick, would I even be able to tell the difference?

* * *

The mattress is soft under my body, and I sigh, turning into the pillow. It feels more sumptuous somehow, as if my cruise ship bed went from nice to luxurious. Heat engulfs me, proof that I’m not suffering from that aspect of the sickness. I guess I should be grateful for small favors. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I snuggle in, letting my eyes close once more.

Sleep beats the impending boredom and slow descent into madness that faces me. At least when I’m sleeping, I might have a chance at dreaming. A smile curls up my lips as I let my fingers drift down in between my thighs. Besides, the last time I slept, I had the best dream of Jackson going down on me.

Granted, the fact that he bit me after was a little weird. Apparently, my brain is fixated on vampires. It doesn’t matter that my novel tastes have been running in that vein; I shouldn’t be dreaming of people I know turning into blood-sucking monsters.

Though, if I’m being honest, the way Jackson let go of himself in my dream only made me throb and become so much wetter. Groaning, I let my fingers drift over my clit, arching up into my touch. If I’m going to be stuck in this godforsaken room, I can at least take care of some urges.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

My eyes fly open, my fingers stilling. That voice. Luka. My blood runs hot and cold simultaneously, my mind yielding under the spell of his dominance. The ache deep inside morphs into something far more powerful. It’s a yearning I didn’t know was possible.

“Answer me.”

“I - I-.”

“I isn’t an answer. You were touching your pussy, weren’t you? Did I give you permission to do so?”

“N-no, Luka -.”

“Is that how you fucking address me, submissive?”

His face looms into view, all power and seduction. I should be repulsed by the command - no, ownership - in his tone. I don’t belong to him, and yet he orders me around like I’m already his.

Haven’t I already dreamed of him taking me in ways I didn’t even think were possible? I rub my thighs together as need slams into me. It’s almost on par with the insatiable lust I feel around Master Jackson, but something edges it out just a bit.

There’s a danger to Master Luka that I never felt from Master Jackson, at least not until I dreamt of him the other night. If Master Jackson could be like that all the time, like he was when he tied me to the porthole and forced me to orgasm as I faced my biggest fear, then he would give Master Luka a run for his money.

Despite the roughness and darkness in him, there’s a part of Master Jackson that cares for me. I know this deep inside. In contrast, Master Luka cares about nothing and no one, which is its own brand of aphrodisiac. I can be whoever Master Luka wants me to be because he doesn’t give a fuck about me.

He only cares about his pleasure, and dammit if the hardcore masochist and submissive deep inside doesn’t get even wetter at that thought. Master Luka can actually bring me to those places I only dream about. He can take me to a limit and past because he doesn’t care if he hurts me in the process.

In fact, something in me wants him to hurt me. I want him to break me down into nothing - to let me feel emptiness for the first time. I so desperately want to get to that place where I don’t feel, where I don’t care. All that exists is “yes, Sir.” Master Jackson can bring me to that edge, but so far, he hasn’t let me tip over. He hasn’t taken me to my baser core, where something desperately longs to climb out.

“On your knees, submissive.” I crawl out from the mass of covers and fall to the floor without another thought. It’s as if I no longer have any control over myself. With just his words, he can manipulate me, move me, force me to do whatever he wishes.

“See, Jackson.” Master Luka glances behind me, a smirk on his face. “You just have to know how to train them. Soon, she’ll be like a little puppy, trailing after her Masters. Is that what you want, Katrina?”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Wracking my brain, I think back to my preference sheet. Nowhere on there did I indicate pet play. He’s going way off-script. Should I say something? Safeword? He’s not hurting me, and technically, he’s not turning me into a puppy yet….

“Speak.”

Master Luka’s thundering command startles me, jolting me out of my thoughts. “I’m not a dog.”

He throws his head back, an odd wheeze that could resemble a laugh passing through his lips. “Then why did you just obey like one?” Once more, he looks over my shoulder. “Take her to the cross. It’s time we have a little fun with her.”