She was never supposed to feel anything.
That had been the rule.
Be quiet. Be obedient. Be available. But don’t feel.
And for a while, it worked.
Sasha showed up when she was summoned. Bent when they told her to. Took them one by one — or all at once — whenever they wanted.
She wore what they told her to wear. She came when they allowed. She swallowed their pleasure and said thank you.
And she loved it.
Every. Dark. Wicked. Second.
Until she started needing them when they weren’t around.
The first sign came on a Thursday.
She was at her desk — fully dressed, hair in a bun, pretending to do the job she used to care about. But her eyes kept drifting to her phone. Her thighs clenched every time she saw Grayson’s name in her inbox, but none of the messages were personal.
Just contra
