Page 116 of Volatile Waters

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Savoring Goodbyes

Exiting her room, Whitney gasped when she saw Adrian and the two minions’ bodies on the hall floor. There was no time to explain. I had no idea when Uncle would arrive, but I was confident he would not take well to finding his brother dead. Our race for survival had just begun, so I collected my guns and rushed to Wolf’s door and unlocked it. Whitney followed me inside. I spoke as if his Master once again, “Rise, I am setting you free.”

As Wolf stood from the floor, more beautiful than ever, he studied Whitney. It was his first time ever seeing his competition, but there was no jealousy present. Only pity. I knew he could see what I saw; a young girl, not only soiled from forced sex but soiled in the deepest part of her soul. She was distraught, her eyes wild and her fair skin the palest of colors.

Full of despair, Wolf questioned, “Master?”

My eyes closed. Struggling to explain that her condition was entirely my fault, my eyes popped open as Whitney asked, “How much, Yury? How much were you going to get for him?”

The question seemed so off-subject that I was stunned into silence. Wolf seemed to have even more sorrow for her, as if he realized she had lost her mind and was no longer making sense.

“How! Much!” Her naked little body shook with anger that I could not comprehend. Not until I saw her examine Wolf’s perfection, then her own condition, including the scars on her leg. The care difference was as evident as a bright sun and a very dark night.

The destroyed girl deserved an answer, so I told her the truth. “One-point-five million.”

Wolf gasped.

The young woman, who might be worth thirty-five dollars in her current condition, growled, “I’m going to smack you now.” I didn’t move. I deserved all the anger she held for me. I hoped that letting her strike me would make her aware of her true worth. Whitney had become priceless to me.

My cheek stung, and my heart bled.

Wolf gasped again, but it wasn’t due to her hit. It was because he had just realized that I was at fault for her state, both physically and mentally. Solemnly, I nodded to him. There was no point in denying it. Then I handed him the keys from my pocket, wanting him to free the last two slaves that would ever be in my pitiful care.

I felt drained and so sorry for what I had done with my final punishment; all I could think to do was show her that being soiled didn’t change how I felt for her. Father was wrong. Cum dripping down her thigh changed nothing. I loved her, unconditionally, as love should be.

I quietly repeated her words but altered them for me. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

The way her mouth opened, I knew she still cared for me, too. “It will be the last.”

And it was. For the last time, ever, I kissed her precious little lips, savoring this goodbye.

Returning to the hallway, I watched Wolf attempting to calm the new slave. He was naked and pissed. “Where the fuck am I?” I sighed, sad that the Master in me had already mentally named him Sky, due to his incredibly blue eyes.

Not wanting to reply, due to my lack of energy and unwillingness to be his Master, I asked Wolf, “Where is she?”

He stood at Jewel’s open door. “She doesn’t believe me.”

Again, I felt grief for appreciating that she had already become such an obedient slave, following my rules, not listening to anyone but me. It was disheartening because a part of me was pleased with her and wanted to reward her good behavior. It was then that I realized that I would not be leaving my Master role behind when I left this place. Being a Master was ingrained so deeply; it would always be a part of me. “Jewel. Come.”

She immediately scurried from the room. “Master.”

I was shocked to see her prepped for delivery. My Prepper must have been told of my collaring Jewel and done her job by getting her ready. Jewel’s hair was long, full of waves, and blonde, her makeup and freshly waxed body on point. She was the perfect doll. Lost in Master mode for a few seconds, I thought about how I would have made a high profit off her.

“You claimed her?” gasped Whitney.

Like moments ago, her concern seemed out of place, but she had truly become jealous of a slave I had trained. I had been her Master for approximately ten months. She fought hard for my protection. She hated the idea of me claiming another because I had tortured her with my pretend Whitney.

While retrieving black robes from a closet near the filing room, I tried to explain Whitney’s reaction to her, that I was her food source. Any other slave was a threat to her survival. I also tried to answer her other questions about Fake Whit but kept being interrupted by Wolf. “Master.”

I ignored him because his tone was putting me on edge. I could hear his judgment, something I didn’t want between us.

Of course, Whitney felt she was to blame when I admitted Fake Whit had committed suicide. I reacted quickly when Wolf demanded, “Catch her!” I thought Whitney was responding to the news of Fake Whit’s death, but Wolf scorned me, “What did you do to her?”

With Whitney cradled in my arms, his guilt was debilitating to me, so I barked, “Leave us be!” and tried to assure Whitney that Fake Whit’s death was not her fault.

Wolf continued on, claiming Whitney was in shock. My heart raced, and I only heard bits and pieces of what he was saying. “…she is in danger. Her pupils… Not only with mental shock… Medical shock… Her lips are so dry... She is skin and bones…”