Page 91 of Dean's Delinquent

Again, I look over at Caldwell as he huddles in his cage. The stench of urine encircles us, causing my gut to cramp and acid line the insides of my mouth. As horrible as it tastes, I swallow it down. If I start puking now, I might not be able to stop.

“Do you really think he’s going to save you?” The voice drifts over me, burrowing into my mind. “He can’t even save himself.”

“What do you want from me?” I do my best to infuse a bite of backbone into my words, but they only come out as soft and ineffectual.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you think this is all about you. Little rich girl like yourself. It makes sense you’d internalize it.”

Confusion muddles my brain as the pain continues to pound behind my eyes. “You have me trapped here. Obviously, it has something to do with me.” As I try to think this through, the ache only grows until I’m forced to just stop and breathe. “I didn’t lure Caldwell out here. So you’re not here for him. It has to be me.”

“Oh, naïve little Ashleigh,” the voice murmurs from behind. “You can’t even see a scenario where you’d be the one who’s bait? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I hadn’t pegged you as self-centered, but that’s a good tidbit to have.”

“Do I know you?”

“Yes. You do. We’ve met on a few occasions. I would be hurt that you can’t recognize my voice, but then, you did suffer a decent blow to the back of the head.”

His fingers dance along the back of the skull, drawing forth an agonizing wail from my lips. Darkness threatens to encroach again, but I refuse to let it. I have to figure out what’s going on if I want any hope of staying alive. I just have to think.

If only it wasn’t so fucking painful.

Caldwell’s soft sobs next to me grate along my spine, flooding my brain with extra noise that only makes things worse. “Shut the fuck up,” I finally screech, earning me another skull-splitting headache.

Thankfully, though, it does its job. Soon, everything goes back to silence, giving me a small space in which to breathe.

“Who do you want, then? My parents have money. They’ll pay to see me unharmed. Hell, I’m sure Caldwell’s parents will do the same. He’s their only son. You don’t have to do this. You can get what you want.”

“Oh? And you know what I want? How adorable. You don’t even know your own self yet. You’re just a child play acting as an adult. Besides, money, I have in spades. It’s power I want. Power is the only thing worth having. But you wouldn’t know that since you gave away your power for a good fuck.”

I play his words over in my mind as I try to make sense of them. When did I give up my power? My stomach flips as jagged pieces do their best to come together, but nothing really seems to fit. If only I could think. Unfortunately, the more I struggle, the harder it becomes.

Exhaustion drips down on me like warm sap on a hot summer’s day, urging me to slip back under the cloak of unconsciousness. Everything will be better if I can just give in and go to sleep. No more pain. No more fear. Just blessed sleep.

“Oh, don’t go back under on me just yet,” the voice rasps out as something sharp glides down the side of my neck. “I haven’t even started playing with you.”

A knife. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Doing my best to keep my breathing even, I sink down into my soul and conjure up Dean Anderson. He used a knife on me, and it felt glorious. Maybe if I can pretend, it will hurt less.

“Ahh. What was I thinking? Of course, a little slut like you would enjoy that. I bet you’re just soaking wet, aren’t you?”

His hand slides down into the front of my pants and over my underwear. Nausea bubbles up inside me, threatening to make me hurl. It would serve him right for me to puke all over him.

As his fingers move my thong aside, my body bursts into a flurry of motion. Each jerk sends renewed agony through my skull and arms, but I can’t just let him touch me like this. I can’t allow him to assault me.

“Feisty,” the voice rumbles through my brain as a hand yanks my head back by my hair. A sob wrenches from my throat and hovers in the air. “I can see why he likes you. I too want a submissive I can break. Too bad he got to you first. We would have had a lot of fun together.”

His words cut through the gathering haze as they begin to make sense. It’s obviously someone in The Society. No one else would know any of these things. But who? Who knew about me?

Again, I mull his voice over in my head, doing my best to distract myself as his bold hand tugs at the edge of my underwear again. Think, Ashleigh. Think. Who can this be?

There’s no trace of Russian, so it can’t be the guys who are friends with Dean Anderson. It’s certainly not Doctor Andrew. His voice has a very distinct, sharp and cultured undertone to it. Can’t be Coach Luke. It’s not young enough. Could it possibly be Professor Richards?

Closing my eyes, I think back to the class I have with him. No. There’s something about this voice that’s not quite right. There’s a hint of a strong New York accent, far different than the others I encountered the night I snuck into the initiation. I also don’t think it’s Doctor Bradley, but I’m far less certain of that.

The stranger’s hands get far too close to my pussy to be able to bear. Helpless, I twist again in my bonds, but all that does is wrench my arms and makes my head fuzzy. It does nothing to stop his fingers from slipping past the flimsy fabric barrier for him to touch me in an intimate way.

A loud buzzing fills my ears as he forces a finger inside me. The pain of his raw intrusion drives a cry from my lips. All I can think is thank God I’m not actually wet from this. He’d take it as some sort of sign I want him. But then, would he even really care about that?

Tears slide down my face in earnest as the pain, terror, and exhaustion beat at me. Everything in me wants to shatter, to just give in to the hysteria welling up in my chest. But I can’t. To give in would be to stop fighting. And I will never stop fighting.

Never.

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