“Sir! No, I… please, sir, your slut doesn’t want to, please don’t make her—”
“TELL ME!” he shouted.
“Um, just that, um, maybe… Anthony wasn’t the first!” she squeaked, flinching away from him.
DJ was thunderstruck for a moment. What she was suggesting… that was bullshit. It had to be. Emily sunk to her knees beneath him, then pressed her forehead to the ground piteously. “What do you mean? Emily, you know something—it’s obvious, don’t try to deny it. Tell me everything, right goddamn now!”
“Ashley ordered me not to, sir!”
“Fuck Ashley’s fucking orders! You’re MINE, not hers! What happened?!”
“There were others, sir!” she moaned. “Many others. For weeks now! She used sir’s orders to his residents to obey her as a tool, then seduced them, threatened them, made them do things!”
DJ stepped away turning his back to her. “I know Ashley pushes them around, but what you’re saying… that’s not possible!”
Emily crawled frantically back in front of him, head still sunk submissively. “But it is, sir! You’ve seen how she gets her way with people—you know what a bully she can be, what a temptress!”
“You don’t know anything! You’re just jealous of her and you’re trying to drive us apart so you can have me all to yourself! How could you even know?”
“Because I’ve seen her do it!” Emily cried.
DJ’s voice was ice cold. “Bullshit.”
“No, sir—there have been several! Mistress even used your filthy little gutterslut once to help her seduce a guy in her chem lab.” Hastily, she scurried across the room and snagged her phone; DJ watched numbly as she fiddled with it. When she handed it to him, it was a text conversation with a number he didn’t know. He was thanking her for an amazing night “with the both of you,” and her reply was a picture of both Emily and Ashley topless, blowing kisses.
He looked for only a second, then dropped the phone and fell on his ass on the floor.
His chin quivered. “But… why? Why would you help her?”
Emily’s voice was interrupted by her own sobs. “Because sir demanded his servant obey her unquestioningly! Because mistress threatened me—with pain, with banishment! Your slut was too afraid, sir, that is the only reason she didn’t tell you!”
“I… I can’t believe you would… I thought I meant something to you. All this time, I thought you actually cared about me, beneath all your fucked-up fetishizing and sucking up, I thought… This is how you repay me for all I’ve put up with from you, you crazy bitch?”
Emily lifted her head, and a look of pure rage was on her face, so stark in contrast to the remorse he had anticipated that he actually stumbled backwards. “You… you ‘put up with’… from me…?! You question mycharacter?! You, who goes out and fucks—sorry, rapes—any semi-attractive girl unlucky enough to cross his path, you abuse them, let it be watched and recorded and shown to the world, you let that sociopathic cunt you were duped into falling in love with join you and laugh at it and get off on watching you inflict suffering?! And you call me a bitch?!”
Emily rosed to her feet, mouth twisting in a feral snarl. “You fucking monster. You take, you manipulate and bully and antagonize and humiliate anyone you want any time you want for no reason but to give yourself a sick little thrill! You ruin lives like it was a fucking game, DJ! And then when you finally suffer one little setback, when that psycho lunatic does the same fucking thing to you that you’ve been doing to her with fuck only knows how many women, what do you do? Oh of course, you go out to a bar and rape someone else to make yourself feel better! Then come home to cry about it like you deserve a single drop of fucking pity.”
She loomed over him, voice lowering menacingly. “You fucking disgust me. Ashley calls you an asshole, but that doesn’t scratch the surface—you’re the fucking Antichrist, and she’s the queen devil of the universe herself. Do everyone on this campus—on this whole fucking planet—a favor and go fucking die already!”
DJ, totally unprepared for this—from Emily! sweet, submissive little Emily!—scrambled backwards, tried to get up only to be pushed down to the floor by her as she finished. He’d never seen that look on a woman’s face before—pure, unadulterated malevolence. For a moment, he thought she really might try to kill him.
Then, the next instant, she fell to her knees and vomited.
DJ scuttled back as she heaved over and over. Her anger disappeared, or at least he thought so—when he could make out facial expressions through her sickened state. Not knowing what else to do, he knelt down beside her and patted her back, and after a moment she stopped puking and started gasping for air, face bright red, a haunted look on her face.
It was a panic attack—he’d seen them before. She needed a moment to catch her breath and calm down, so he stood back and collected his thoughts.
What had happened? Emily—submissive, selfless, slutty Emily—had just completely freaked out on him. Rape? When had he ever raped someone? Never once since he’d gotten his power had anyone told him no. About anything. Nor had they complained about being embarrassed or ashamed or any of those things she’d accused him of. What he did was harmless—victimless! He wouldn’t go doing those things if it actually hurt anyone!
Images of some of the things Ashley had done to people—thing she’d had him do—things he had done of his own volition—flashed before him, and he squelched them.
No. No, it wasn’t like that. She’s wrong.
Little by little, she regained her breath somewhat, though before she could get back to regular she threw herself at his feet, literally kissing them all over with bile-dripping lips. He tried to escape the awkward display, but there was no way to move without kicking her in the face. “Emily, stop that,” he said with what little authority he could muster.
Suddenly, he was much less confident of his capacity to control her.
“No, sir, please, please, your slut begs you to forgive her, she meant none of those terrible things she said—” she gagged, and for a moment he worried she was going to puke on his feet before she continued, “—and she begs you, from the bottom of her soul, forgive her, forget her outburst, she was stupid and wicked and evil and must be punished, forever, punished and punished until she understands what a bad girl she is, and please, sir, please let me make it up to you, let me redeem myself, oh God, please DJ, please let me make it up to you, love me again, let me show you I didn’t mean it, please…”
She continued, continued for so long he wondered if she was ever going to stop, kissing his feet and sobbing and begging him to forgive, to punish, to forget. Yet all he could see was that look of raw, seething hatred on her face when she’d denounced him, the righteous wrathfulness in her voice.
The fear he’d felt. Fear that she might try to hurt him.
Fear that what she said might be true.
There was a soft knock at the door, and without waiting for an invitation, it opened. Standing there was Brittney, looking concerned at DJ then puzzled at Emily, who didn’t let up her murmured petition for a moment.
“Is everything OK? I heard yelling, and…”
“Yeah. We were just having a little talk.”
“You’re sure? I was worried you… she… I just worried.”
DJ drank in the tender, concerned expression on her face; measured it in contrast to the visage he’d seen moments ago.
“Yeah, Brittney. Thanks.” He snapped his fingers; by reflex, Emily looked up and saw him gesturing for her to stand. She was on her feet like she was spring-loaded.