President's sinister voice in my head, and I know there is no way she could have. Anything tonight has to be better than my fate if Malin and I do not pass this test.
Bernadette embraces me. "We must go. You will survive this if you do what we practiced. I promise."
I take a deep breath.
She steps back and grabs a white, silk bag off the bed. Diamonds spell out Malin. "It's time."
"What is that for?"
"It goes over your head."
"What? No."
"There is no choice. I will hold your hand the entire way. But remember Emilia, you must submit."
There's no choice.
Be brave.
I nod, and she puts it on.
"Are you all right? Are you breathing?" she quietly asks.
"Yes." It's not as bad as I thought. Since it's white, I'm not in total darkness.
"I told Malin he needed to insist on white. The bags are generally black, no matter what the woman wears. It will become darker when we get into the room."
"Okay," I whisper as my heart thumps faster.
She takes my hand and squeezes it. "We are not allowed to talk once we leave this apartment. If you talk, there will be consequences. From this point forward, you must submit." She leads me forward. We walk. Doors shut. At one point, there's a chime, and when we step forward and stop, we fall.
My stomach drops. We must be in an elevator.
When it stops and she guides me forward, our heels click and echo in my ears. My butterflies increase, and my chest squeezes.
Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.
Get me out of here.
It's the whorehouse and auction or this.
I put my hand over my stomach to stop it from pitching, and Bernadette squeezes my other hand hard, so I take it off my gut.
Sexy music, laughter, men and women talking, fills my ears. Colder air-conditioning hits my skin. Goose bumps break out on my limbs. My lips, hands, and insides tremble. Everything becomes darker.
Bernadette squeezes it again.
We keep moving. When we stop, she puts her finger on top of the bag, over my lips, and lets go of my hand.
I want to beg her not to go, and run. But I'm frozen and don't move, more scared of what will happen to me if I do.
The clicking of her heels gets farther and farther away. The shaking of my insides increases.
Breathe.
My chest heaves. I feel it but can't stop my erratic intake of air.
Everything becomes quiet, except for the music, and it becomes so faint, it's barely audible.
I smell him before I see, hear, or feel him. Leather and limes flare in my nostrils, and it calms me a little. As if he can sense my need for time, nothing happens for several moments. I take deeper and deeper breaths until my lungs function normally again.
He steps forward. The energy of his body makes mine buzz the same as it always has.
I gasp. I wasn't expecting the power he held over me prior to all this insanity. With everything that happened over the last few weeks, I expected it to be gone.
But it's not. If anything, it's stronger. And my body reacts before he touches me.
I squirm, my lower body pulsing, and my flutters changing from nerves to a desperate need for him.
His hand palms me between the legs, and I shudder. He leans into my ear, and in the same tone I heard on the recording, he murmurs, "I own you. You are my property. Whatever I want, you will submit to. You are my slave. I am your master. You will call me master unless I allow you to call me Malin."
It cuts my desire in half, and the hatred I feel for him comes flying back.
Is this real? Is this who we now are?
No. It's Malin. It's for tonight. To survive.
We've both changed. There's no going back.
I don't know who this man is anymore.
He lifts the bag past my nose but keeps my eyes covered then licks the back of my ear.
Tingles shoot down my spine, and I whisper, "I hate you."
He stiffens but then responds, "But you won't. You will beg me." He moves his hand under my dress and slides it into my sex, slowly rubbing my clit with his thumb. "This pussy is already hot and wet for me."
I whimper, hating myself for responding to him, shaking against his body.
He pulls his hand away and shoves his finger in my mouth, rolling it over both sides of my cheeks, then circling it on my tongue.
When he steps back,