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I knew now that the version of events I’d previously believed was nothing more than fiction. Something my mind created as a coping mechanism to deal with the crushing guilt I felt after I murdered Ben.
I once read a book where a girl did something similar and her brain developed false memories to help her cope with what she’d done; allowed her to escape responsibility by blocking out the truth. But I wasn’t like that girl. Not anymore. I didn’t want to escape responsibility. I didn’t want to keep remembering that fake version of events where I was innocent and it was all a terrible accident.
It was no accident.
Ben rejected me because I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t from his world. I was just a lower-class loser who could never even dream of getting a guy so far out of my league. Sure, he wanted my body, that was good enough for him, but when I realized he would never want me in any real way, I snapped. I pushed him off me and ran away, my head pounding with white-hot rage, and when he came after me to try and calm me down, I pushed him right off the cliff.
Then I ripped my own skirt and messed up my hair and makeup to make my story more convincing. As for the drugs… I must’ve taken them earlier at the party. I wanted to have a good time, and tons of people took pills and snorted things at parties.
A dark, distant part of my mind whispered to me, reminding me of the secret witness on the beach, some man or woman who backed up my false version of events, telling the police that I didn’t push Ben. He slipped and fell, and I was nowhere near him at the time, this person claimed.
I used to see this secret witness as a beacon in the night, something to give me hope whenever the crushing guilt set in. Something to remind me of my innocence. But now I saw the witness for what they really were.
A liar.
A dirty, bad, malicious liar. Just like me.
I was not innocent. No way. Whoever the witness was, they probably hated Ben and wanted him dead. They probably saw me push him but they didn’t want me to wind up behind bars for doing what they wanted to do themselves. So they lied to the police and defended me, getting me off all the charges.
Yes, that had to be it. No wonder they wanted their name suppressed by the courts.
Elias leaned down, brushing his lips against the shell of my right ear. “I want you to put that out of your mind right now. I want to feel you come on my cock. Do it now, Doll.”
“Please… I can’t,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. “I’m bad, Master. I don’t deserve it.”
“Do it now, or I won’t see you for two whole weeks. I won’t be able to punish you with the whip or the clamps then, like you want so badly. Is that what you want to happen?”
“No!” I frantically shook my head.
Elias sped up again, pounding into me harder and harder. My legs shook from the sheer power of his movements. “Come right now, or that’s exactly what will happen,” he said, his voice deep and throaty. He sounded so serious, so angry.
I couldn’t disappoint him again…
“I’m sorry, Master,” I said, concentrating harder. I might not deserve to come, but if he commanded it, I had to make it happen.
I let go of my guilt and allowed myself to really feel his cock inside me, allowed myself those few seconds of wanton need. Finally, warm pleasure began to unfurl deep in my core, and it exploded out of me several seconds later, a gasp tearing from my lips as I jolted and clenched. It was the hardest thing I ever did.
“Good girl,” Elias muttered, slamming into me even faster. He came inside me with a juddering groan, and then he slapped my ass and set about unshackling my wrists and feet.
“You can spend the next seven days in here,” he said, gesturing at the room around us as I shakily got to my feet. We were in the same place he’d taken me all those weeks ago when he bathed me and gave me my favorite food—the gorgeous open-plan suite with the huge four-poster bed and the claw-footed tub.
“Thank you, Master,” I said, glowing warmth spreading through me. He was so kind. So generous. “I don’t deserve this.”
“Well, there’s books and other things to keep you entertained. I won’t be here for several days, and I don’t want you losing your mind from boredom down in the cell.”
My eyes widened. “Master, why?” I cried. “You said if I came, you wouldn’t stop seeing me.”
“I’m not stopping,” he said curtly. “Not for two weeks. Just a week. You might’ve followed my commands eventually, but you said no to me at first. You displeased me, Doll.”
I didn’t bother falling to my knees and trying to argue. He was right. I defied him, and now I was being punished in the worst way, left alone without him to touch me or bring me the pain I wanted so badly now.
“Yes, Master,” I whispered. “I understand.”
He looked down at me, eyes darkening. Somehow, he was still angry with me, even though I’d given him everything he wanted and agreed with everything he said.
He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he clamped it firmly shut and strode over to the door. I stayed where I was, my heart beating painfully in my chest as I watched him unlock the door and step outside.
He looked back at me for a brief moment. “I’ll see you later, Doll,” he said.
Then he was gone, and my world went cold and dark again.