Chapter 4: Cassandra
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The weekend seemed to last forever and still sped by quickly as Julian's dread of Tuesday grew.
He spent it locked in his penthouse suite at The Grand Regency Hotel, staring at the accounting reports his finance team had prepared, but not one number registered in his brain. He checked his phone every thirty-seven minutes, hoping—no, *praying*—for a text from Selene, anything, to break the paralysis of certainty that gripped him.
He had lied to his wife, his staff, even to his therapist. The story was the same: a surprise real estate opportunity in Dubai, all cash, confidential until closing. His wife had accepted it with a mix of irritation and mild concern—she was used to his sudden absences—but her indifference only deepened the dread coiling in his gut.
He was living in constant fear. He didn't know what to expect and worse, he had no control over the situation.
This was what Selene had wanted all along - to make him experience the same helplessness, the same terror, the same loss of power that she had felt fifteen years ago. He had come to understand that Selene was patient and methodical. She would not allow him to rush. She would make him suffer.
By the time Tuesday evening rolled around, he was practically panicked. He struggled to keep from hyperventilating as he watched the clock tick and waited for his phone to buzz.
7:59 PM. 8:00 PM. The seconds stretched into eternity. His heart was a drumbeat against the cage that surrounded him.
Julian's phone buzzed on the nightstand. His hands shook so badly he had to employ both of them to actually lift it to eye level. The screen displayed an address in South Phoenix, somewhere near the old stockyards. No name. No signature. Just an instruction:
*Go alone. Be on time. This isn’t a negotiation.*
At 8:02 PM, he stepped into the lobby of The Grand Regency, where the evening doorman gave him a polite nod he barely returned. As he drove through the familiar streets, he almost ran a red light and had to struggle to get himself under control . He parked behind an abandoned auto shop, its windows boarded up and a chain-link fence sagging low around the property. He stepped out of his car, the desert night air biting at his skin. But the chill wasn't just from the outside. It was coming from within.
The door to the building creaked open as if inviting him in.
Inside, the space was lit by a single lantern hanging from a rafter, casting long shadows against the concrete walls. In the center of the room, Cassandra stood waiting, her body silhouetted against the dim light. She was shorter than he remembered, her frame broader, her shoulders squared as if carrying a weight he once thought he'd broken.
Her dark hair was streaked with silver, pulled back into a messy bun that only accentuated the sharp angles of her face. She wore a black tank top and leggings, her arms crossed over her chest, but her eyes… God, her eyes burned with something he couldn’t name. Fury? Satisfaction? A slow, deliberate vengeance?
Julian stepped forward, his dress shoes clicking against the concrete. He kept his hands at his sides, though every instinct screamed at him to cross his arms, to shield himself from her gaze. The chastity cage was a cold weight against his skin, a constant reminder of Selene’s control.
Julian swallowed hard, his throat dry as he stepped forward, his breath shallow.
"Cassandra," he said, his voice low and careful. He tried to keep his tone measured, but it came out strained, cracked at the edges. "It’s been a long time."
Cassandra didn’t move. She stood with her weight balanced evenly between both feet, her arms still crossed, her expression unreadable. The lantern light flickered, casting her face in and out of illumination, making her eyes gleam like polished obsidian.
"Thirteen years," she said, her voice firm, no tremors, no hesitation.
It was the voice of someone who had spent years rebuilding themselves from the ashes Julian had left behind. "Thirteen years since your friends and you thought it was fun to use me like a ragdoll. Thirteen years since you made sure I’d never trust another man again."
Julian's stomach twisted at the word "fun." The casual cruelty of memory clawed at his throat. He recognized the steel in her voice—familiar from too many boardroom battles, from too many women who’d learned to hide their fear behind indifference. Cassandra wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
He cleared his throat, forcing calm into his posture. "I’m sorry," he said, and the words tasted like poison on his tongue.
They came out smooth enough, but the sincerity was absent, the way a politician’s apology is absent. "I didn’t know it had affected you this way."
Cassandra let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound sharp enough to cut glass. "Oh, Julian, you never *knew* anything about people outside your little kingdom of money and power. You used me like a toy, like a challenge. And when it was over, you didn’t even remember my name." She took a slow step forward, her sneakers squeaking slightly against the concrete floor. "That’s the thing about monsters, Julian—they don’t see themselves as monsters.
Not until something forces them to look in the mirror." Cassandra’s voice was flat, the fury packed deep beneath layers of deliberate calm. "And tonight, I’m the mirror."
She took another step forward, and Julian instinctively stepped back.
His heel hit the concrete wall. There was nowhere else to go.
The lantern swung slightly, casting her shadow over him like a net. She reached into the pocket of her leggings and pulled out a small remote—identical to the one Selene had shown him.
Julian’s blood ran cold.
"Oh, relax," Cassandra said, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips. "Mine doesn't have the red button. Selene kept that one all to herself. Good thing for you." She thumbed the remote, and a low, insistent pulse started inside the cage – the same cruel vibration Selene had used to break his resistance. Julian gasped, his spine arching involuntarily as pleasure sliced through his clamped flesh.
Cassandra watched his reaction with clinical detachment, her thumb hovering over the buttons. “I’ve been practicing with this thing all week, Julian. Figured out exactly what settings make you scream.” She pressed down harder, the vibration intensifying into something like a dentist’s drill meeting nerve endings.
Julian’s knees buckled mid-gasp, his body betraying him with involuntary jerks.
His jaw clenched until pain flared behind his temples, but the vibration never relented—it burrowed deeper, turning his stomach inside out while his cock, despite everything, attempted to rise against the confines of the cage. A pathetic whimper escaped him, something he hadn’t made since boyhood, and Cassandra’s smile widened.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” she murmured, stepping closer until the lantern light illuminated the sheen of sweat already slicking his chest and forehead. “You still remember how to do that. Good. Means I don’t have to teach you anything.”
Julian’s fingers scrabbled behind him against the wall, searching for purchase, for *anything* to steady himself.
"Now strip and get on your knees." She commanded, taking her finger of the vibration button and hitting the pain button once.
Julian gasped in pain as his knees buckled, slamming into the concrete floor. His hands scrambled to catch himself, but the concrete was cold and unforgiving. The chastity cage dug into his flesh as he shakily got on all fours, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
Cassandra’s laughter was sharp and mocking. “Look at you,” she said, circling him like a predator sizing up prey. “Pathetic. Just like you left me thirteen years ago. Now get your clothes off or I'll hit it again.”
Cassandra’s voice was a whip-crack, sharp and unyielding. The remote in her hand gleamed under the lantern’s dying light.
Julian’s fingers trembled as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, the crisp cotton suddenly too tight, too constricting. His wife had ironed this shirt for him only that morning—another lie waiting to unravel. He fumbled with the top button, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the vibration from the cage sent another shudder through him.
Cassandra watched with cold amusement, her thumb resting lightly on the remote. "You're taking too long," she said, her voice dripping with mock concern.
"Let me help you with that."
Before he could react, her fingers flashed out with surprising speed, jerking his shirt open with a sharp tug that sent buttons pinging across the concrete floor. Julian flinched as the cold air hit his exposed chest, goosebumps rising immediately.
"You have 10 seconds to get completely naked." she said, showing him the remote.
The numbers started counting down on her phone.
6...5...4..."
Julian's hands flew to his belt, fumbling with the buckle as the vibration inside the cage intensified with each second. He yanked his pants and boxers down his legs, leaving them pooled around his ankles. He frantically kicked off his shoes and got down on his hands and knees.
3...2...1
Cassandra's laughter echoed through the warehouse like cold wind through an empty canyon.
"Good boy," she purred, stepping around behind him. Julian could smell the faint scent of vanilla and cigarette smoke clinging to her and hear the click of her shoes on the concrete. "Now spread your legs."
Cassandra said, her voice dripping with amusement as Julian immediately complied.
Julian groaned as he shuffled his legs wider, the cold concrete biting into his knees. He could feel the cage pressing against him, the metal biting into his flesh with every tiny movement.
Cassandra circled him slowly, her heels making sharp, syncopated clicks against the concrete floor. The lantern light flickered, creating a strobe effect that made his skin crawl. She stopped directly behind him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off her body.
"Such a good little pet," she murmured, reaching out to trace idle circles on his lower back with one manicured nail.
The touch was feather-light, yet it sent a jolt of something like electricity straight to Julian’s already overloaded nervous system. A shudder tore through him, and he felt the cage constrict reflexively at the intrusion, a useless but automatic protest.
Julian’s breath hitched. His muscles locked, his entire body rigid, as if bracing for an invisible strike. The concrete floor was numbing his knees, but that was nothing compared to the ice water flooding his veins. He heard the crinkle of plastic behind him, then the sharp *snap* of latex stretching over her fingers.
“You remember how this part works, don’t you?” Cassandra’s voice dropped to a whisper, thick with venom.
"I used to fantasize about this. Every night for years—imagine myself bending you over, making you feel even a fraction of what you made me feel."
Her breath warmed the skin of his lower back, her words a brand. Julian’s stomach lurched as her fingers traced the seam of his ass, slipping between his spread legs with deliberate precision. The cold latex of her glove pressed against his skin, a violation more intimate than any he had ever forced upon another.
His breath came in ragged bursts through his teeth, his body betraying him once more. The cage was a cruel prison, but beneath the pressure and mortification, something *responded*.
Julian’s breath stuttered, his hips twitching involuntarily as her gloved fingers circled his virgin asshole. Her finger slipped inside causing him to tense up and cramp.
A whimper escaped him without his permission. He could feel Cassandra’s breath on the back of his neck as her finger sank deeper.
“That’s it, you pathetic worm,” she whispered, her free hand coming up from underneath him and squeezing his balls hard as she shoved a 2nd finger into his puckered ass.
“Feels good to be on the other end of it, doesn’t it?” Cassandra’s fingers worked in slow, cruel circles, spreading him open.
Julian’s back bowed, his shoulders trembling, his teeth sinking into the side of his cheek so hard he tasted copper. The vibration in the cage had stopped, giving way to the raw, tearing sensation of her invasion. He felt every inch—every brutal inch—as she worked him open with methodical efficiency.
“I'm being way too kind." she said, yanking her hand out of his ass and standing up behind him. "You didn't warm me up at all." she said, punctuating her sentence by ramming her foot up into his exposed balls.
The sudden brutal impact sent Julian's world tilting sideways in a white-hot explosion of pain that forced his previously clenched fists to slam against the concrete floor in a useless attempt to crawl away from her. The air in his lungs exploded out in a strangled wheeze as the impact forced a high-pitched squeal from his throat that sounded embarrassingly young and vulnerable.
Cassandra's laugh echoed through the cavernous warehouse space like a gunshot ricocheting off the metal walls, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete as she circled him again. “Oh my God, look at you,” she cackled, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back to force him to look up at her.
“You’re *crying* already. How predictable.”
Julian’s vision swam, his throat working uselessly as he tried to drag air back into his lungs. The pain in his groin radiated up his spine in hot, electric pulses, every breath a knife twist between his ribs. Tears burned his eyes, but he refused to blink them away—he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him break.
Cassandra stepped around behind him again and he could hear rustling and the sound of buckles being snapped into place. "Now that's a fine piece of rich bitch ass right there." Cassandra said, smacking his ass cheeks.
“You’re going to learn how it feels to be used Julian. I’m going to break you down until all you know is how to beg.”
Julian’s breath hitched, his vision swimming in tears he refused to let fall. The concrete dug into his knees, the cold biting through his skin, but it was nothing compared to the raw, tearing agony in his groin. His hands, still splayed on the ground, trembled violently.
Cassandra knelt behind him and rested her elbow on his back. He felt something cold and thick between his ass cheeks.
Julian’s breath hitched, panic clawing up his throat before he could stop it. The realization that she was putting something inside him—something *large*—sent his pulse hammering in his ears.
Cassandra’s breath was hot against the back of his neck. “You used to love this part,” she murmured, her voice thick with something dark and satisfied. “The way I begged you to stop.”
“No—” Julian choked out, his voice breaking. The word was automatic, instinctive—a last-ditch defense against the inevitable. But the protest died on his lips as the first cold touch of lube pressed against him.
Cassandra had already slicked something thick and unyielding against his entrance, the cold gel shocking him into silence. The sound of crinkling plastic cut through the warehouse’s silence as she tore open a condom wrapper.
“Relax,” she instructed again, her voice eerily soothing. “You’ll find it easier if you stop fighting.”
Julian’s body was rigid, every muscle locked in defiance. He could feel the thick silicone pressing against him, its tip already wider than any shit he had ever taken.
The invasion was slow, agonizing—Cassandra had no interest in rushing. She rocked forward just enough to breach him, then paused, letting him feel the impossible stretch of his body accommodating something he’d only ever taken from others.
Julian’s jaw ached from clenching so hard his teeth throbbed. A single tear escaped, sliding down his cheek before he could catch it. The warehouse’s silence swallowed the sound of his ragged breathing, turning each inhale into a desperate gasp.
Cassandra’s free hand rested on his lower back, just above the base of his spine, grounding him in the moment. "What's the matter little bitch? Here I thought you loved anal sex." Cassandra’s voice was thick with mock pity.
Julian could feel the silicone pressing deeper inside him, an alien intrusion that made his vision blur at the edges. His hands clawed at the concrete, nails scraping against the rough surface.
“Please—” His voice cracked, the word torn from him before he could stop it. “It’s too—”
“Too much?” Cassandra finished, her voice dripping with amusement as she fed another inch of the thick phallus into him. “Good. That’s *exactly* how it should feel.”
She pulled back slightly, then thrust forward again, deeper this time, stretching him further open.
Julian’s entire body jerked forward, his spine arching involuntarily as the silicone bottomed out inside him with a wet, obscene sound. A broken cry tore from his throat, raw and unrecognizable even to himself. The cold, unyielding toy filled him completely, its ribbed texture scraping against sensitive nerves he hadn’t known existed.
Cassandra chuckled darkly, her free hand sliding down to grip the base of the phallus where it disappeared between his legs. “You feel so good like this,” she murmured, twisting it slightly inside him. “So tight. So *used*.”
Julian shuddered, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
The silicone inside him pulsed with every erratic beat of his heart, the constant reminder of his complete defeat. He could feel the cool concrete pressing into his kneecaps, the rough edges digging into his skin until he was sure he would bleed. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the slow, suffocating humiliation of being used this way—by someone he once considered beneath him.
Cassandra slid a hand under his chin and forced his head up, making him meet her gaze despite the tears blurring his vision. “Look at you,” she murmured, her voice low and triumphant. “A billionaire on his knees. On his *knees*. Used like a cheap whore.
Used like you used *me* that night. Only difference is, I made sure you’d remember every second."
Julian’s throat worked convulsively as he swallowed hard, his gaze locked onto hers despite the burning shame in his chest. He could smell his own sweat now—rank and metallic, the sharp scent of fear. The silicone inside him throbbed with each desperate breath, a cruel reminder of his submission.
Cassandra’s fingers tightened under his chin, her nails digging slightly into the soft skin beneath his jaw. “You don’t get to look away,” she said softly, almost gently. “Not this time.”
Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed again, his throat dry.
The silicone toy inside him pulsed with each erratic heartbeat, stretching him obscenely with every tiny throb. He could feel the thick gel leaking around the base, dripping down his thighs in slow, shameful trails. The concrete was biting into his knees now, not just cold but *pinching*, and his ass was getting raw from the constant friction.
Then Cassandra picked up the pace, pounding his ass in earnest now. Her breath coming in a series of grunts as she slammed the dildo home over and over again.
Julian screamed in pain, praying for the torment to end. His ass burned and he begged her to stop. "Please, no more."
The concrete scraped his kneecaps raw. The silicone pulse of the thick dildo filled him with each brutal thrust, stretching him open again and again—more than he thought possible, more than he had ever taken in his life. Tears streamed down his face, snot bubbled at his nose, his mouth gaped open in a silent scream that cracked into a sob as Cassandra twisted the base of the toy, grinding it deeper.
“Do you remember me begging when you fucked my ass?" Cassandra asked.
“Do you remember the way I screamed? The way I sounded like a broken doll?”
She twisted the silicone deeper, her free hand gripping his hip hard enough to leave bruises. Julian’s back arched, his spine snapping straight as a broken bow. A guttural, animalistic sound tore from his throat—part whimper, part prayer.
"No—" His voice broke again, cracking like dry kindling. “Please—” The words were useless now, hollow echoes in the vast warehouse.
Cassandra withdrew the dildo just enough to let him breathe—only to slam it home again with a wet, obscene *thwack* that forced every ounce of air from his lungs.
Julian’s body jerked forward, his forehead smacking against the concrete with a dull *clack*, his vision sparking white behind his eyelids.
“Answer me,” Cassandra demanded, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Do you remember?”
The silence stretched between them, thick with dust and decay. Julian’s chest heaved, his ribs aching with each ragged inhale. He could feel the silicone inside him throbbing, still half-stretched, still cruelly present. His face was wet—salty tears, snot, something bitter at the back of his throat.
“Yes,” he choked out, the word torn from him like a dying animal’s last breath.
“I remember.”
The confession hung in the air like smoke, curling around Cassandra’s smirk. She withdrew the dildo completely this time, letting it dangle obscenely between his spread legs as she stepped around to face him again. Julian stayed on his knees, head bowed, shoulders shaking. The concrete beneath his skin had gone from cold to numb, his body locked in a state between pain and dissociation.
Cassandra crouched in front of him, the lantern light carving sharp shadows across her face. She reached out and gripped his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze despite the way his lower lip trembled. He found himself face to face with the strapon dildo, covered in lube and smeared with his shit.
“Do you remember this part? You really liked shoving your shitty dick in my mouth after you finished in my ass." Cassandra said as she dangled in right in front of his face, the head glistening with the filth from his ass. "You made me swallow your cum mixed with my shit." Cassandra said, her voice low and dangerous. "You laughed and called me a disgusting whore while you did it."
Cassandra's voice was ice. She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth as she studied the trembling man before her, noting the way his wide green eyes darted away from the strap-on's glistening tip.
Julian's entire body convulsed, his stomach lurching violently at her words. The concrete floor beneath his knees seemed to tilt dangerously, the room spinning out of control as nausea roiled through him. His fingers, still splayed against the ground, dug desperate crescents into the cold surface as he fought against the urge to retch.
"I-I didn't mean it," he stammered, his voice breaking on the admission. The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
Cassandra grabbed his hair and pulled him forward pushing the shit covered cock against his lips. "Suck my dick you fucking disgusting whore." she growled pushing her hips forward and shoving his lips open.
Julian gagged as the taste hit him, thick and foul. His stomach revolted, but his throat locked tight in protest like a starving man refusing the last morsel of food."
Cassandra pulled back leaving his mouth hanging open in a trembling O, spit dripping from his lips. She used her thumb to smear the filth across his bottom lip, her eyes drilling into his with a feral satisfaction.
"You loved making me do this too little rich boy. Remember?" Cassandra’s voice dropped to a venomous purr as she leaned in. "You’d pin me down after you finished in my ass and force me to clean you off with my mouth.
Do you remember the way you’d laugh while I choked on it?" Cassandra’s grip on his hair tightened, forcing his gaze up. "Do you remember the way you’d call me a dirty slut while I gagged around your cock? Taste yourself," she commanded. "Taste the filth you forced me to take."
Julian’s stomach lurched violently, bile rising in his throat, but he had no choice. He opened his mouth wider, letting her shove the filthy cock down his throat triggering his gag reflex and causing him to empty his stomach on the concrete floor.
Cassandra stood up and watched him retching at her feet.
The sound was wet and ugly now as his body heaved again and again, clumps of partially digested steak and wine splattering the concrete next to his knees. The filth from the strap-on glistened where it had smeared against his face, catching the lantern light in greasy streaks. She stepped over the puddle of vomit carefully, her shoes untouched by the mess.
"You're such a fucking pig," Cassandra murmured, watching as Julian's shoulders shook with the effort of emptying his stomach. She reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back again to force him to look up at her.
Julian’s face was a mess—saliva and bile and tears streaked his cheeks, his eyes bloodshot and wild with humiliation.
“You’re going to clean it up,” Cassandra said, her voice a razor’s edge. “With your tongue.”
She shoved his face down toward the puddle of vomit on the concrete, guiding his mouth toward the wet, half-digested mess. Julian’s stomach lurched again, but there was nothing left to bring up. His lips trembled against the foul substance, his body recoiling instinctively.
“No choice,” Cassandra reminded him, pressing her shoe down on the back of his neck to hold him in place. “You made me eat filth.
Now it’s your turn,” Cassandra said, pressing Julian’s face down into the mess. His lips barely grazed the concrete before his body convulsed violently again. His stomach twisted in dry heaves, his throat working uselessly.
“So fucking pathetic,” Cassandra murmured, pressing her shoe harder against the back of his neck. “Like a pig in slop.”
Julian’s breath hitched, his face slick with vomit and tears. His jaw clenched, but the pressure of her shoe forced his mouth open. A strangled whimper escaped him as he felt her shoe push his face deeper into the mess.
“Oink Oink,” she clucked. "Lap up your slop little piggie." she commanded and Julian's stomach heaved again before he could stop it. He tried to turn his head away, tried to escape the fumes of his own filth but Cassandra's foot held him in place forcing him to breath deep of his own shame soaked breaths.
Her shoe pressed down harder. Julian's eyes watered and snot ran down his face in thick strands as he gagged at the taste of his own vomit, the bitter tang of bile and the sour reek of last night's wine. His tongue pushed against the concrete reflexively but Cassandra forced his mouth open wider and made him lick at the smallest bits of chewed food clinging to the surface.
Each swipe made his stomach churn and his eyes watered more. The taste was inescapable, flooding his mouth with the memory of his own humiliation. Cassandra kept her shoe planted on the back of his neck, her weight making it impossible for him to lift himself up. His breath came in short, sharp gasps through his nose, the only way he could drag air past the vomit clogging his mouth. Each time he tried to pull away she would press down harder, forcing him to lap at the concrete. His chin scraped against the rough surface with each jerk of her foot's command and the small cuts started to bleed, tiny drops of crimson mixing with the mess on the floor.
Finally, Cassandra removed her foot and stepped back. "Look at you now, hotshot." Cassandra's voice cut through the haze of his shame. "Kneeling in your own filth, licking it up like a stray dog."
Julian didn't answer. He couldn't. His body still heaved with the effort not to vomit again, his mouth still full of the acrid taste of his own degradation. The concrete floor was sticky beneath his knees where he'd knelt, and the cold bit through his skin like teeth.
Cassandra stepped over him, her boots making sharp crunches in the dried vomit as she walked to the far side of the warehouse. The lantern light caught the laces of her shoes as she turned, the dark leather gleaming against the concrete.
She pulled her phone from her pocket—just an ordinary smartphone, its screen flickering to life as she tapped the screen. After a moment, a tiny red light started blinking near the top corner, invisible to Julian unless he craned his neck.
He heard the soft chime of a notification, distant but clear in the vast space.
“I sent Selene the video. Nice catching up Julian. Enjoy your time with the rest of the ladies." Cassandra gave him one final, pitying look before she turned and walked away. Her footsteps retreated, growing quieter as she moved through the warehouse, until the only sounds left were the distant creak of metal and Julian's ragged breathing.
Julian stayed on his knees, his chest heaving, his body trembling with a mix of shock, humiliation, and raw, burning shame. The concrete beneath him was cold and unyielding, the filth from his vomit drying sticky against his skin. His face was a mess—snot, tears, and the remnants of breakfast smeared across his cheeks and chin.
Julian knelt there, his body trembling violently, his hands clutching at the concrete as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely. The taste of bile and shame was still thick on his tongue, his throat raw from retching. He could feel the cold seeping through his knees, the rough texture of the floor biting into his skin. The vomit around him had begun to congeal, forming a dark, unsightly stain that seemed to mock him with every breath he took. His mind was a haze of humiliation and terror, his thoughts scattered and fragmented, like debris after a storm.
He had never felt this way. This small, This degraded. He felt unhinged.
Not just emotionally – though God knows that was certainly true – but physically, like his body didn't belong to him anymore. Like his skin was too tight for whatever grotesque shape he had become. His pulse hammered in his throat, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts that did little to steady him. He could still taste the filth on his lips — the acrid burn of vomit, the slick residue of something he refused to name, something that had burrowed into his mouth the way Cassandra had burrowed into his life. His stomach clenched again, though nothing remained to expel. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a trapped thing in his throat.
How was he going to survive this? This was just the first woman, there were 13 more before even getting to Selene.
The thought hit Julian like a sledgehammer to the chest. His breath came in shallow, desperate gasps as he realized the full scope of his nightmare. Thirteen women. Each one bent on vengeance. Each one with their own special brand of suffering designed just for him.
He crawled painfully to his feet and looked around. He was covered in vomit and needed to wipe his ass, but there was nothing around to wipe with but his clothes. He used his T shirt to clean up as much as possible, then gingerly put on the rest of his clothes. His knees were scraped raw from the concrete, and his ass was still on fire, but he needed to keep moving.
He stumbled out to his car and fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before he finally got the door unlocked. As he started the car, his phone buzzed in his pocket from his unknown number.
*"We hope you got as much out of tonight as we did."* with an attached video file. He clicked the video and there were edited clips of him on his knees begging while he was being pegged. If he didn't know better, it would look like he was begging to be fucked.
The way he whimpered. The way his hips jerked involuntarily against the thick silicone buried inside him. The way his cheeks hollowed as he gagged on Cassanda's strap-on, tears streaming down his face.
Julian's stomach lurched again, but there was nothing left to bring up. He swallowed hard, the acid burn of bile coating his throat. His hands trembled as he swiped the screen to close the video, but his thumb slipped. The clip rewound. Right to the part where he screamed around the cock in his mouth—right to the part where Cassanda called him a pig and made him eat his own filth.
His breath came in short, sharp bursts and he burst into tears sitting in his car.
The steering wheel pressed into his stomach as he curled forward, his head bowed. He was racked by deep sobs, his body shaking in despair until he finally got control of himself and drove back to his hotel.
His reflection in the rearview mirror was nearly unrecognizable—pale skin slick with sweat, eyes bloodshot and swollen, stains of vomit still caked in the corners of his mouth. He dropped off his car with the valet and stumbled into the hotel. Everywhere he looked, people were staring at the strange man in a suit with wild hair and vomit on his face. He ducked his head and rushed to the elevator trying his best to hide his face until he made it to the room.
He peeled off his clothes one by one—the soiled shirt, the pants stiff with dried filth, the boxers stuck to raw skin—and let them drop in a heap on the bathroom tile. The first wave of heat hit his back like a physical blow. He braced both palms against the slick wall and bowed his head, letting the water wash away what he could, not daring to touch himself below the waist.
Fifteen minutes later he was wrapped in a towel, still damp at the edges, staring at the reflection he no longer trusted. The face that looked back held none of the usual arrogance: cheekbones too sharp, jaw clenched so tight it ached, eyes sunken under dark hollows.
He reached for the bottle of prescription sedatives—Xanax, the ones his doctor had finally stopped refilling three months ago—and dry swallowed two tablets without water. The bitterness lingered like a brand on his tongue. Then he stumbled to bed and collapsed into a fitful, nightmare filled sleep.