CHAPTER14
Shelaine
I still can’t believe Dean Anderson made me work today. He knew tonight was going to be my claiming ceremony. Or perhaps this is his way to torture me beforehand. Granted, even if I was off today, I still wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
Nervous energy flaps about my stomach, threatening me to be sick. The last week or so has been a blur. Any time Luke saw me, he was either shoving his cum, his fingers, or both into me. It’s like each day has become more erotic than the last, and now, it’s here, the day that he’ll claim me.
Walking over to the bathroom, I stare at my reflection, noting my flushed cheeks. Perhaps I just haven’t been sleeping well enough. I feel so tired and rundown. I know it’s nerves. The last time I was like this, it was around my first finals. I was so beside myself that I got the flu the week after they were done.
I step out and take a deep breath. I just have to make it through tonight. After that, it all gets easier. Gathering my stuff, I make my way out the door and into my car, keeping my brain from just going everywhere. It takes far too short of time for me to get from the office to Chi Sigma Delta, and I resist the urge to groan.
As soon as I enter the doors, the girls start to swarm me, everyone wishing to help me prepare for tonight. But how do I tell them that I just want to be alone? I just want a few moments by myself to breathe. What’s really bothering me isn’t whether I trust Luke or not. I trust him, but I still don’t really know him.
He’s still very much a stranger. No amount of texting or sexting can change that. To really know someone takes time. We’ve only been officially in each other’s lives for a week. How do I know he’s not putting on some front? Some mask to hide who he really is?
The girls at Malum whispered about him, said horrible things, yet were still so in awe of his sexual prowess that they gave themselves to him despite all the bad he’d done. Is that the same with me? Am I just wanting him because of the sexual need he’s pulled out of me?
I hope that it’s much more than that. Sex, even if it’s mind-blowing, doesn’t make a good relationship. My main concern is that there’s a wall there that I’ve not been able to breach yet. There’s so much that he’s hiding away, and I can’t tell if it’s for his benefit or mine.
Taking another deep breath, I remind myself that being his submissive doesn’t mean forever. If things go sideways, if he presents another side to him that he hasn’t already shown, then I can call it quits. Dean Anderson would be more than happy to get me out of any toxic situation I find myself in.
By being his submissive, it will let me get to know him, to see if we truly are compatible outside of sex before we go any further. Honestly, this is probably the best and safest way to go about it.
Unable to resist, I give into their infectious laughter and ribald jokes, allowing them to walk me up the stairs to my room. It’s in moments like these that I wish I had done more to really connect with the other submissives in this sorority. The faces around me are familiar, but none of them are ones I’d call friends.
Bethany would be the closest, but she’s not one of the giggling throngs. More than likely, she’s in the lab working on a project. She’s there far more often than here lately. I know she’s pushing hard to get that internship she’s craving, and so I don’t begrudge her not being here on my last day as a virgin.
When I walk into the room, I take a moment to look around. After tonight, I won’t be coming back here. I’ll be moving in with Luke and allowing space for another girl to come into the fold. I don’t know why it causes tears to prick my eyes, but it does.
It’s as if a wave of loneliness swept through, robbing me of all the happy feelings from just a moment before. With Luke, I won’t be alone again. And besides, I’ll still see these girls at other functions, especially if Luke wants to play with me in the public dungeon space, so it’s not really goodbye.
Sitting at my desk, I listen to them bustling about, prepping the shower and wax. Luke specified that I was to show up with only my legs and underarms waxed, so that brings me at least a little bit of relief. The last thing I want is one of these overly enthusiastic girls to want to give me a Brazilian. Since my Dominant ordered otherwise, they’ll just have to go wax someone else.
Opening one of the drawers, I grab my scrapbook and start to flip through the pages. I know what’s really wrong. I hate that my parents aren’t here to share this moment with me. Granted, the very idea of them watching me get claimed is nauseating and terrifying, but that’s not what I’m missing.
Tonight is the first step to a different future. It’s not a wedding, but it’s something close to it. They should be here. They should be able to cheer me on, to know how well I’m doing in my studies, to be proud of me. But they’re not. More than likely, they think I’m dead.
When I fled from the man that bought me from Malum, I still didn’t reach out to them. It would have been so easy to break my vow to keep silent about where I was and what I was doing. But I didn’t want them to have to lie or, worse, die because they were harboring my location. When Dean Anderson first took me in, I sobbed, crying my heart out. I thought I’d purged them from me, but even now, just staring at my father’s smile has me tearing up all over again.
Perhaps once Luke and I get to know each other, and I know for sure I can trust him with this aspect of my life, I can reach back out. With him as my protection, I should be able to have contact again. Brushing my hand over my eyes, I force the tears to stop. I don’t need these girls asking about things I will never talk about to anyone but Luke.
* * *
The massive doorsin front of me are shut tight, leaving me alone in the atrium in my cloak. I know I have to be naked underneath, but it’s still nerve-wracking. What if I step wrong and expose myself before it’s time? What if I mess up somehow? What if I trip and fall flat on my face, breaking my nose?
So many questions. So much uncertainty. I’ve watched so many submissives get claimed that I shouldn’t be freaking out like this, but each ceremony was different. There isn’t a set standard. Whatever happens, is what the Dominant wants, and right now, I have no clue what Luke would want.
This whole week he’s been teasing me, taunting me, getting me aroused with just his words and descriptions of how he was going to fuck me into the mattress. But I know there’s more than that. There’s always more than that. I’ve never been to a claiming where there wasn’t something other than the sexual act.
Shifting back and forth on my bare feet, I huddle deeper into my cloak and force myself to breathe. Honestly, this should be the easiest part. Once I go through those doors, it’s all on him. All I have to do is say, “Yes, Master,” and let him have control.
Easier said than done. I relish the idea of letting him command me, but it’s the fact that it will be in front of everyone. What if he orders me to do something that I just can’t do? Like, touch my toes or do a split? It’s clear that he enjoys humiliating me, but so far, he hasn’t been cruel about it. Could that change once I’m inside?
Finally, the doors open, and just like a proverbial bride, I walk down an aisle to where Luke is waiting for me by the bed. At least, I’m assuming it’s Luke. The body shape is right, but the devilish mask he’s wearing conceals his face. Just looking at the twisted features and long horns makes my stomach roll, sending nausea up my throat.
He’s not the Devil. He’s Luke. He’s not the Devil. He’s Luke.