Page 32 of Red Waters

Perversions and Permission

Nothing Yury had tried in attempts to make me jealous truly worked. Not until I walked out that bathroom door to see Pretend Whit wearing my leash. I snapped! Absolutely lost-my-motherfucking-mind snapped! Yury eyed me—read the fury I was experiencing—then gleamed at his success. I was still soaking wet as I adamantly demanded, “Give. It. Back.”

I was going to be damned if that fat butt bitch was going to also have my protection. That was mine. Standing next to a pleased Pretend Whit examining her gift, Yury asked, “Is Fire making an appearance?”

I trembled with rage. “Yury, I earned that monstrosity. I did everything you wanted.”

He pointed to the bathroom behind me. “Not just now.”

Glaring at the other slave in the room, I held out my hand. “Wanna-be-Whit, give me my leash.”

Yury’s shoulders softened as if he adored me. “Yes, my Fire has returned.”

Changes needed to be made… And I had very few things I could bargain with.

Decisions had to be made… Was I willing to sell the last bit of humanity left in me?

Pacing in front of the bathroom doorway like a caged animal, I asked Yury, “You want fire? You want to burn?”

As if already tasting his reward for this long battle, he licked his lips, hunger in his eyes. “I do.”

I growled, “It will cost you.”

“Name it.”

I took a stance. “She’s out. Food is in.”

Without hesitation, he replied, “Add a lap dance, and all you wish is yours.”

Pretend Whit, in her beautiful dress, gasped.

Ignoring her, I stomped my foot. “I can’t dance while I’m starving!”

Yury walked to the landline phone on his nightstand. He lifted the receiver to his ear and barked Russian demands before hanging up. “Food is coming. But I want payment first.” He stalked back to Pretend Whit. He knew him being near her was rubbing me bloody raw.

He was right. But it wasn’t him I wanted. “Give me my fucking leash!”

As if not able to wait to get started with anything I had in store for him, Yury removed the red leash from Pretend Whit’s collar. He was panting as he approached me and reattached it to mine. I peered up. “You will not be inside me in front of her.”

He grabbed my throat. “Don’t tell me what I will and won’t be doing.”

“Cancel the food order. Our deal is off.”

His grasps tightened.

“Yury, if you wanted to rape me, you would have done so long ago.”

“I have raped you.”

“With items and your hand. Deep down, you want me willingly. Here’s your chance.”

After a few more seconds of him trying to scare me with his evil glare, Yury turned from me, grabbed Pretend Whit’s elbow, and guided her out. In the hall, he barked another order in Russian. A guard came and led her away. I felt bad for the confused slave but was too pissed and hungry to truly care. My survival instincts had taken over again.

What came next was shameful. Yury and I finally had sex, but it was violent. I shudder every time I think of what I did to him and how he accepted it all. It was like, deep down, he knew he deserved every ounce of rage I exhibited. By the end of the mania, I was exhausted and wildly emotional, sobbing for all he had done to me over the past months, for missing Link, and for becoming a monster myself, sending a slave to doom and gloom to save my own ass.

Not even the delivered food could appease me. Naked, Yury held me while lying in his bed, trying to sooth the inconsolable.

When he left the bed and went into the bathroom, I thought he had given up on me, but I was soon scooped up and carried to a running bath. Holding me next to the huge tub, he softly tried to speak over my crying. “Fire…” But I wouldn’t listen. Then I heard, “Whitney.”