"Do you know what I'm going to do to you when I catch you?"
Three.
"I'm going to spread you open on the altar at the center of this maze."
Four.
"I'm going to make you beg for my cock while you're still crying from what my monsters did to you."
Five.
"I'm going to fuck every hole you have until you forget your own name."
Six.
"Until the only word left in that pretty head isMaster."
Seven.
My breathing is ragged now, each inhale catching in my throat like a sob. The blindfold presses against my closed eyes. The darkness is absolute. The voice iseverything.
"Until you understand that you weremadeto be mine."
Eight.
I stop.
The air feels different here. Heavier. The bamboo walls must be close on either side—I can sense them even without seeing, the way the sound of my own breathing changes in the enclosed space.
"Good girl."
The praise hits my clit like a physical touch.
"But before you can become mine, you must prove yourself worthy."
Worthy.
The word echoes through four years of shame and longing and desperate late-night writing sessions. The word I gave to Helix. The word I made Lyra earn through blood, and come, and terror.
My whole body is trembling.
"Ready, little slut?"
I nod, even though he can't see me. Even though maybe he can. Even though I don't know anything anymore except that I want this.
Ineedthis.
The silence stretches for one heartbeat. Two.
Then he screams it:
"RUN, LITTLE SLUT! FIFTEEN STRIDES!"
A growl explodes through the earbuds—guttural, inhuman,close—and I'm running before my brain catches up to my legs, counting strides through the darkness, heart slamming against my ribs, the monster's snarl chasing me through my skull.
I run.
Not the clumsy, terrified scramble I expected—something else. Something that feels like flying through darkness, my feet finding the powdery earth with impossible certainty.
