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I blinked.
My mind was blank. I literally had zero recollection of how I got here.
“Kassandra. What is wrong with you? Why the hell were you checking out your ass at this ungodly hour?”
I stared at her, narrowing my eyes in confusion.
“You didn’t see the bruises?” I asked.
“What? No. Your ass is just as lily white as it had always been. Firm and tight, just like a fucking supermodel. It’s perfect. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you that desperate for attention?”
I didn’t reply.
“What happened to you?” she asked again.
“I don’t remember…” I replied uselessly.
She shook her head and glared at me. I shrank back, not prepared to handle her ire just yet.
“Go back to sleep. When you’re not being an idiot and screaming at the top of your lungs at the ass crack of dawn, we’ll talk,” she scowled, before slamming my door so hard that the walls rattled.
I lifted my nightgown once more, staring at the red welted marks across my ass. She hadn’t seen them, but I could. Was I crazy? Was it all just a delusion?
I was so tired though. I didn’t want to think about what this meant anymore. I yawned and crawled back into bed, trying to escape whatever was happening to me.
I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but I only tossed and turned every which way. My mind raced, trying to put together the pieces of how I’d gotten back to New York. There was no explanation that made any sense. A boat would have taken too long. A plane would have taken hours, and someone would have had to pick me up at the airport. A train or a car wasn’t possible. For God’s sake, a freaking ocean separated New York and Greece.
I finally fell into a fitful sleep, but all I dreamt about was Markos. His dark eyes. His commanding voice and the feeling of his thick cock as he mastered my body.
It had all felt so real.
It had to be a dream. It just had to be.
A few hours later, my cell phone alarm blared loudly next to my ear and I grabbed at it desperately. I shut it off as quickly as I could, my panicked heart pounding loud in my chest. I listened for sounds of Nicole but heard nothing. Finally, after enough time had passed, I sat back, breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to calm this frantic feeling inside me.
I tried to ignore the achy feeling of my body and climbed out of bed. My pussy was sore, but my ass stung more, reminding me of the way he’d bent me over his desk and spanked me like a naughty little girl. I whimpered when I thought about how he’d fucked my ass. My body shook with shame. I refused to look in the mirror I’d studied myself in before and kept my eyes on the floor as I tiptoed over to my adjoining bathroom. I reached into the shower and turned it on, before closing my eyes and leaning back against the tiled wall. I didn’t open them again until the room was full of hot steam.
The mirrors fogged up and I couldn’t see myself anymore. The respite was much needed.
Almost on autopilot, I climbed into the shower and began to wash myself. I scrubbed my body ferociously, trying to clean all evidence of Markos from my skin. His seed washed off rather easily, but the marks from his fingers on my hips, my thighs, and my ass wouldn’t rinse away.
Those were very real.
I began to cry. How could I make sense of all this?
Maybe he had his hands in government technology. Maybe he had access to modes of transportation none of us knew about. Maybe I was just insane.
Maybe I had done this to myself somehow. I shook my head, shivering at the thought. No. I wasn’t the type of girl that hurt myself though. I had never been.
I stood under the spray for a long time, the hard, ruthless spatter of the water against my skin comforting.
When the shower finally began to get cold, I forced myself to turn it off and climb out of the tub. I wrapped myself up in a soft, fluffy blue towel and went back into my bedroom. Automatically, I went over to my closet, losing myself in my morning routine. I slid open the door and stared at the clothes inside.
They were organized by color and sleeve length, but most everything in my closet was black, gray, and subtle blues. It wasn’t the most exciting wardrobe, but it comforted me all the same. It meant I was home. That I was safe.
I picked out a gray pantsuit and laid it on the bed. I quickly pulled a pair of panties from my dresser. I whimpered softly as I pulled them up and over my sore, punished flesh. Next, I hooked my bra on behind my back. Then, I pulled on my pants and a tank, before shrugging into the suit top. I was swaying the whole time. Lastly, I brushed my hair and tried to make my tired face look awake with a little makeup. It didn’t really help, but I kept telling myself it did.
Eventually, I gave up and left my room. Nicole was awake, but she didn’t say anything. She was probably still pissed that I’d woken her up this morning. She was drinking coffee and I went over and silently poured myself a cup out of the carafe.
