Page 79 of Lost to the Woods

I know he’s doing this to humiliate me. To establish his dominance. And God help me, I won’t let him.

But another wave of desperation rolls through my body, and my hips rock forward, seeking relief that isn’t there. The movement sends a jolt through me—sharp, almost electric—that pulses right between my thighs. And the worst part? It doesn’t just hurt. It feels… good. Not just the rush of release I would feel if I let go, but the tension itself. The way my body clenches around nothing, the way my pulse flutters low in my belly, the way I’m so full it feels like I’ll rupture. Like my body’s decided this is some kind of fucked-up foreplay.

Oh, no. Nope. We’re NOT doing this.

My breath stutters.

Ghost notices. Of course he does.

“Aw,” he coos, “Does it feel good, holding it like that?”

“Shut up,” I gasp, but my hips give a tiny, involuntary roll.

It’s degrading. It’s wrong.

And he’s enjoying this. My suffering. My squirming. My struggle.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Please,” I whimper, gripping the bars so hard my knuckles whiten, and it’s pathetic even to my own ears.

Ghost exhales, a slow, theatrical sigh. “Pride’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Too stuck up to use the bucket but not to beg. Those pretty doe eyes won’t help you right now.”

“Just let me go outside. I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want after. I promise.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You think you’re in a position to negotiate? You’re already dripping on my floor.”

My stomach drops, and I quickly glance down.

Oh God.

A thin, traitorous trickle escapes, running down my inner thigh. I gasp, mortified, but it’s too late.

My muscles give out, and I can’t do anything to stop it. A shuddering rush surges through me as warmth spills down my legs, splattering onto the floor beneath me. The relief is euphoric, a full-body release that sends sparks up my spine and leaves me dizzy with my knees weak.

I slump against the bars, moaning softly, my face burning with shame. But beneath it? Something darker. It feels like I just came. Not in a sexual way—just that helpless feeling of completely losing control.

Terror comes next. I need a bath.Now.

Ghost stands slowly, stepping closer, his boots thudding against the floor. I can’t look at him. Because he’ll know. Can’tbear the sound of it—the steady, mortifying drip between my feet.

He stops just outside the cage, looming over me.

“Look at what you did,” he murmurs, voice thick with something between disgust and want. “What a filthy girl you are. I should make you clean it with your tongue now.”

“Go to hell,” I hiss, breathlessly.

“Too late.”

I should hate him.

Ido.

But as he reaches through the bars and his hand grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze, my pussy flutters.

I’m so fucked it’s not even funny anymore.

“Next time, use the bucket like a good little pet. Now sit in the mess you’ve made and think about your behavior.”

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