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Despite everything, I find myself wanting to know what he says. Dom hates me, and he’ll probably make some awful derogatory remark about me right now.
He shocks me when he licks his lips slowly. “No, not hot. Beautiful. You looked beautiful, Duchess.”
“Our pretty Duchess.”
Tino strokes my neck, eliciting goosebumps from my flesh.
“I’m not yours. I’m not any of yours.”
Kirill watches me, a darkness glittering in his gaze. He doesn’t speak, but I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about how I’ve let him touch me, make me come, and covered me in his cum in return.
I gave Tino a blow job, and he made me melt under his wicked fingers.
The only one of these three I’ve not done something with is Dom. No wonder they think it’s okay to share me. Have I asked for this? Have I given them the idea that it’s somehow all right?
The picture I had in my head when I was watching them from the doorway jumps back into my mind, and I shake it away.
“I’m leaving now,” I say as determinedly as I can.
“No one can leave this room without paying the toll,” Tino says.
My heart skips a beat. I’m not entirely sure whether it’s in fear or anticipation. I tell myself it must be fear, otherwise I’m as sick as them.
“You guys and your fucking tolls,” I throw back. “What is it this time?”
“It changes. Depending on our whims,” Kirill says.
“Well, what are your whims tonight? I need to sleep before class tomorrow.” I feign boredom. Maybe if they don’t get anything out of me, they’ll grow bored and let me go.
“Oh, there she is.” Dom claps his hands. “The Duchess is back. That frosty, entitled air that our poor little urchin does so well.”
God, I hate him so much, I want to strangle him.
I glare at him.
“You’re looking at me like you want to hit me,” Dom says.
“I do.” Might as well admit it.
“Do you?”
I clench my fists. “Yes, fuck you. I do.”
“Well, then,” he says, dangerously low, “why don’t you?”
“As if I’d do that and give you the excuse to punch me.”
He jerks as if I’ve slapped him. “I don’t beat women, Duchess. Anyway, I doubt you’re good with your fists, but why don’t you slap me? Go on. I’d like it.”
I’m finding it hard to breathe in this room with these three men crowding around me, my pussy blown up on the huge screen, and the red light flickering from the furnace. I ought to demand the USB stick from Tino that he’s playing the movie from, but what’s the point? He’ll have other copies. I need to think about how to get him to erase them all, and that will mean calming down some.
“Unlike you, I don’t like hurting people,” I reply, trying to regain some semblance of control.
Another lie. I hurt a man. Hurt him so badly that I ended his life. But that didn’t mean I enjoyed it.
“You said you wanted to. Go on, smack me. Right there.” He points to one of his perfect cheekbones.
I shake my head, but then he smirks.
