Page 87

The One I Belong to

I’ll know if you don’t. I’ll fucking impale him on a street pole

I’d roll my eyes if I wasn’t still feeling a little disturbed and confused by what Rami found out about Trent.

Me

You can’t do that; we have a code

My phone starts ringing. The One I Belong to is calling. I move further away from the others as I pick up.

“Fuck. The. Code,” he states as soon as I pick up, anger oozing from his voice. “All bets are off when you are involved, and he’s an acceptable donor.”

“Uri, he isn’t even here. I probably won’t even see him.” And he isn’t an acceptable donor.

“But I want the fucker to be there so I can actually turn myblood gushing from all his fucking holes as he screams in agonyfantasy into reality.”

“Stop it! The only one screaming today will be me, with frustration. The…toys are killing me,” I whisper-yell, closing my eyes against the feel of my shirt grazing over those damn clamps. God, the constant sensation is almost overpowering. I might pass out.

“Is it the beads inside your ass and the way your hole squeezes around them? Or those clamps pinching tightly and incessantly?”

He’s torturing me with his words as well. When is this torment going to end? And do I really want it to end?

I catch Dr. Dench signaling me. “I gotta go, you asshole!” I snap.

“It’s your asshole we’re talking about.”So facetious! “Remember, I’ll chain you to the bed if you get near that fu?—”

I end the call with a scoff. I’m dying here, and he’s talking about chaining me to the bed. He can’t be serious. The problem is that I never know with Uri. Imagining being tied up, though, is more a turn on than I expected. But now is not the time for this.

I make my way to the microphone on the raised platform. I walk slowly, holding my breath as I feel the beads sliding inside me. The tiny shifts give life to sparks of heat spreading all over my body, turning my insides into a blazing inferno. When I finally reach the mic, I feel sweat rolling down my spine, my hairline turns damp, and all I want to do is to strangle Uri. And also ride his big, thick, hard cock—only thinking about that piercing… I clench and it’s agonizing madness all over.

Silence has fallen in the room.

I clear my throat before starting. “I’m Dr. Sariel Bear-Stone. I’m a researcher and co-founder of Bear-Stone Labs. I’m honored to be here with you today…”

For the next thirty minutes, the lecture goes smoothly—being still kind of helps halt the incredible sensations bombarding my body—barely. When I’m done and the applause subsides, I answer some questions—trying not to squirm as I stand in front of around a hundred people.

“Aren’t you working on exploring the use of genomic sequencing for early disease detection?” The third person asks. It’s a guy, and his tone carries a hint of hostility.

I prepare myself. Raph trained me on how to talk to journalists thirsty for a scoop, this seems quite similar to that. “Among other things, yes.”

“Your company announced it was a non-profit research project, but doesn’t the fact that it aims to give personalized treatment plans imply patients will need to pay for them?”

“Some might, depending on the disease. Our company, though, won’t be the one taking the money.” Our healthcare system is rigged. Changing it is not impossible, but nearly. All I can do is work hard and try to help as many people as I can.

“But it did in the past,” the student insists. If it did, I’m sure Raph had his reasons—probably to get to a donor. We have enough money as it is. We don’t need more.

“Is this a David-versus-Goliath battle? Or perhaps a personal vendetta?” Uri’s voice booms in the hall, as he slowly descends the stairs, with confidence and arrogance, between the multi-level rows of seating.

“W-what?” the student stutters, starting to look flustered.

He’s here finally, but what is he talking about?

“I’m just asking Mr. Bear-Stone?—”

“Dr.Bear-Stone,” Uri corrects him, stopping right next to the student with a murderous look pointed at him. That same glare has made many donors sob in the past—the torture implement he was handling at the time might have also had something to do with it.

“I’m only trying to get to the truth.”