“Krasnyy,” I cried, wiping the tears from my face. His grip on my hips was strong, and all I wanted to do was flee from the room. Sick waves of nausea threatened, and I broke out in a sweat.
“Baby girl, we can’t play with you if you won’t use your safeword. If you aren’t going to follow the rules, then you put yourself at risk of being hurt, and none of us want that,” Nik soothed.
I guessed I should have been thankful he wasn’t angry, although that was a foolish thought. Why would he be angry? We were still learning about one another. I knew this was important to him.
Anal play was something he enjoyed. That was no secret. I hadn’t put it on my hard-limit list because I wasn’t sure about it. I knew I didn’t want his fist up my ass. That was the only real thing I could say about it.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied weakly, hating myself for not following protocol.
“You know enough that if you’re feeling uncomfortable and want to stop, you call out your safeword.” Nik continued, and I nodded.
“No one will be upset with you for using it,” Ivan said. My eyes flicked to his, and I nodded again, still unable to speak.
“Do you understand?” Nik asked. I sobbed but vigorously nodded once more.
His frustration grew, and it only intensified my insecurities. I misread him completely, only making it worse.
“A nod of your head is not what I’m looking for here. Try again, this time with words,” Nik said, his voice tense.
“Yes, Nik. I’ll use my safeword.”
“Kinsley—”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, feeling guilty and like a failure. “I don’t want to be a slave whore.” I collapsed onto his chest, sobbing.
“For fuck’s sake, Kinsley,” he said, concern lacing his voice.
I pushed myself off his lap and moved to put my dress back on, not bothering with my bra and panties. A feeling of disappointment hung in the room, along with my shame.
“Little love?” Ivan whispered.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at any of them. My chest felt too tight, like I’d swallowed something jagged and it lodged behind my ribs. Shame prickled across my skin, hot and humiliating. I hated how childish I must’ve looked—how weak I felt—but I couldn’t stop it.
Without a word, I reached for my phone, my fingers stiff and unsteady. I didn’t want to explain. I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth, I was afraid all the memories I’d buried would come spilling out.
I punched Marcel’s number and turned toward the door, every movement mechanical, desperate. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle.
Just get out. Just breathe.
The door swung inward at the same time I pushed out. I collided hard into Sebastian’s chest. His arms came around me instantly, but the impact still knocked the wind from my lungs.
“Tiny tot?”
Flinching, I yanked away, only remembering I was holding my phone when Marcel called my name.
“Can you come over?” I cried.
“I’m on my way,” he said without hesitation.
I bolted up the stairs and as far from the drawing room as I could get. My heart pounded in my chest, and I didn’t stop until I reached my room. I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath, the panic rising in my chest.
Throwing myself onto the bed, I curled up in a ball and waited for him. Silent tears streamed down my face as I replayed the moment and the fear that accompanied it. I tried to steady myself as Marcel taught me, but the tears kept coming.
Finally, a soft knock sounded. I pushed myself upright, swiping at the tears still clinging to my lashes. The door creaked open, and he hesitated just long enough for our eyes to meet. Then he stepped in and closed it softly behind him.
He approached and then sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight, anchoring me in a moment that suddenly felt too quiet and too loud all at once.
“Thank you for coming.”
