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I’m still learning, figuring out what my body needs and craves inside the bedroom.

Over the last few days spent with Uri, I’ve found out that I like to be ridden hard into submission, I get off on filthy talk, and well-ordered words make my dick leak.

A light whipping is not bad, but spanking, biting, and pinching all get me going.

I like these out-of-my-comfort-zone experiments.

I’m eager to find out what else I’m into. In the meantime, I need to figure out a way to give my lecture without coming in public.

People keep pouring into the oval-shaped lecture hall where I’ll shortly talk.

It makes me feel deeply honored and screwed at the same time.

Two of the four bodyguards Uri hired are outside, and the other two are a few feet away, scanning the crowd.

I’m actually more at ease knowing they are here.

I’m with a couple of other lecturers and Dr. Dench, the assistant dean who keeps talking about the university and how greatly their research department has improved thanks to my company’s donation.

I spent two hours going around campus with her and meeting people.

Then I had a coffee with Michael, who unfortunately won’t be able to come—but he asked one of his students to take a video of my lecture…crap. Also Ren texted me he’s stuck in class. Too bad, but I’m kind of glad. I almost blurted out about the toys to Michael out of pure frustration.

“Oh my, we need a bigger lecture hall.” Dr. Dench smiles at me. I’d be more focused on what she’s saying if I wasn’t trying so hard to keep my body in check.

The car ride and then walking around was the sweetest torment I’ve ever experienced. I had to stop four times feigning a light stomach burn, when in reality my nipples and ass overstimulation was the real cause of my odd behavior. I was so tense, every little movement felt like a shock.

Now blazing flames are burning my insides; the pain turns to pleasure then to pain again.

My body and mind are both confused since the two sensations have merged into one.

I keep sweating, but I can’t take off my coat, afraid everybody will get an eyeful of the hard-on I’m sporting—even though the cardigan is covering it.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been this far out of my comfort zone, so incredibly far that I’m out in the wilderness.Powerless. And even though I’m a little scared, there’s this thrilling sensation in the pit of my stomach. It makes my body tingle with excitement.

I take a sneak peek at the crowd, hoping to see Uri, even though he said he’ll come at the end of the lecture—I might die from sensory overload in the next minute.

A face I already know catches my eyes. The intern who came into my lab a few days ago.

What was her name again? Marnie? Miriam?

It started with an M, I think. She’s excitedly waving at me from one of the seats, which tells me Raph didn’t fire her—otherwise a glare would be aimed at me.

She must be a postdoctoral researcher at this university, or a PhD student.

I give her a quick, tense smile before concentrating on Dr. Dench again.

My phone vibrates inside my coat, and I excuse myself to check my messages.

The One I Belong to

Don’t let the fucker come near you, Sari

Me

When did you change your name on my phone, Uri?

The One I Belong to

I just registered the right name

Me

What’s mine on your phone?

The One I Belong to

Baby Blue Eyes

My happiness doesn’t last long as I read his next message.

The One I Belong to

I’m serious. Rami found out Trent the fucker likes to make raunchy videos without the full consent of the participants. He tried to delete them, but Rami found some in his cloud or whatever. I’m on my way. Stay away from him.

Dread fills me. I should thank God I’m not in one of those videos—Uri would turn ballistic and kill Trent on the spot. But raunchy videos without his partner’s consent? That sounds odd. We just jerked off and exchanged a tepid kiss.

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 my blood gushing from all his fucking holes as he screams in agony fantasy 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.”

“And the fact that you were fired from Bear-Stone Labs two months ago for attempting to leak confidential information for a very high price has nothing to do with this pretense? Are you even a student at this university?”

Okay, that’s possible since the labs have many employees and I don’t know all of them. But how does Uri know that? He must have used Serena and the CCTV in the lecture hall to use the facial recognition program Rami created or he just called Raph and put his eidetic memory to use.

This whole thing is getting on my nerves now, probably because I’ve reached my tolerance limit. I need to remove those beads now.

“It’s an open lecture,” the guy replies strongly, without denying all the rest. “Who are you? You look familiar. Why are you defending him?”

“Why do you expect an answer?” Uri counters, before leaning toward the student and whispering something low. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I know my boyfriend is threatening him.

Boyfriend . It’s nice to think of him like that.

“Mr. Mahoe,” I call him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. Still too busy scaring the student to death.

I lift my hand to pull at my braid brushing it against my nipple and the clamp around it.

The burn unfurls, spreading to the areola and my whole pec.

I barely stifle the moan climbing inside my throat by gritting my teeth hard.

I can’t anymore. I suddenly feel a heavy arm wrap around my shoulders, and Uri’s sandalwood scent envelops me.