Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 26

Isolde's POV

 

I thought the humiliation couldn't get any worse. I was wrong.

 

"I mean," she said, moving closer with predatory grace, "that you clearly don't understand how to use your body to appeal to Lycan men. So we're going to start with some very basic lessons."

 

"Basic lessons in what?"

 

Evanthe's smile was pure malice. "In how to touch yourself. How to move in ways that suggest pleasure. How to look like you're enjoying what's being done to you."

 

The words hit me like a physical blow. "You're out of your fucking mind if you think—"

 

"I want you to imagine I'm a Lycan man," Evanthe continued as if I hadn't spoken. "Someone who's paid good money to watch you perform. Now, start by removing your shirt."

 

*What the actual fuck?*

 

"I'm not doing that," I said, backing toward the wall.

 

"Oh, but you are," Evanthe said pleasantly. "Because this is part of your training. Part of what you'll be expected to do for real Lycan men."

 

"Absolutely not."

 

"Take off your shirt, Isolde," she repeated, her voice becoming harder. "Then I want you to touch your breasts. Show me how you'd caress your own skin to entice a man."

 

The request was so shocking, so completely degrading, that for a moment I couldn't even speak.

 

"And then," Evanthe continued with growing enthusiasm, "you'll remove your underwear and touch your pussy."

 

*This is insane. This is completely fucking insane.*

 

"Go to hell," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "I'm not taking off a goddamn thing."

 

Sybilla laughed from her perch on the chair. "I told you she'd be difficult. She's always thought she was too good for everything."

 

"You're both sick," I snarled, my hands clenching into fists. "If you think I'm going to stand here and masturbate for your entertainment, you're completely delusional."

 

"It's not entertainment," Evanthe said coolly. "It's education. And it's mandatory."

 

"I'm not doing this," I said aloud, moving toward the door. "This is sexual harassment, and I'm reporting it."

 

"To whom?" Evanthe asked with amusement. "Who exactly do you think is going to care about your complaints?"

 

She was right, and we both knew it. But I wasn't going down without a fight.

 

"Fuck you," I said, reaching for the door handle. "And fuck this entire program."

 

"Security," Evanthe called out calmly, pressing a button on what looked like an intercom system. "Training Room C. Immediate assistance required."

 

*Shit.*

 

Within seconds, the door burst open and three large men in security uniforms entered. I recognized the type immediately—all muscle, no sympathy.

 

"Miss Blackwood is being uncooperative with her mandatory training," Evanthe explained to them. "Please help her understand the importance of compliance."

 

"No problem, ma'am," the largest guard said, moving toward me.

 

*This is it,* I thought. *This is where I make my stand.*

 

"Don't you fucking touch me," I warned, raising my hands defensively.

 

*Lyra, we need to get out of here,* I thought desperately.

 

*Let me shift,* she growled back. *Let me show these bitches what happens when they threaten us.*

 

*There are too many of them,* I replied, even as every instinct screamed at me to fight. *And if we shift, they'll use it as an excuse to do worse things to us.*

 

They were professionals, and I was one person against three. Within moments, they had me restrained, my arms pinned behind my back as they forced me to my knees on the floor.

 

"Let me go!" I struggled against their grip, but they held me firm.

 

"Much better," Evanthe said, looking down at me with satisfaction. "Now, let's try this again. I want you to do exactly what I told you to do. Remove your clothes and touch yourself while we watch."

 

"Go to hell," I spat from my position on the floor.

 

"Wrong answer," she said pleasantly, then nodded to the guards. "Take her to the disciplinary chambers. It seems Miss Blackwood needs some time to reconsider her attitude."

 

*The disciplinary chambers.* That couldn't be good.

 

They dragged me from the training room, down corridors that seemed to grow darker and more ominous with each step. We eventually arrived at what looked like a basement level, with heavy doors and dim lighting that made my skin crawl.

 

One of the guards unlocked a thick metal door and pushed me inside what could only be described as a cell. Stone walls, a narrow cot, and nothing else except for chains mounted to the wall that made my blood run cold.

 

"Take off your top," the guard commanded.

 

"What?"

 

"You heard me. Remove your top. Disciplinary procedures require it."

 

"I'm not taking off my clothes," I said, backing against the far wall.

 

"Then we'll do it for you," he replied matter-of-factly.

 

The threat in his voice was clear, and I realized that resistance would only lead to more violation. With shaking hands, I removed my top, trying to maintain some shred of dignity even as they watched.

 

Once I was done, they shackled my wrists to the chains on the wall.

 

"The disciplinary session will begin shortly," the guard said as they prepared to leave. "I suggest you use this time to reconsider your attitude."

 

The door slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the stone chamber, leaving me alone with my rage and terror.

 

*This can't be happening,* I thought desperately. *This can't be real.*

 

But the cold stone against my back and the weight of the shackles on my wrists told a different story.

 

Minutes later—or maybe hours, I couldn't tell in the windowless cell—the door opened again. This time, a different man entered, carrying what looked like a whip.

 

"Miss Blackwood," he said in a voice devoid of emotion, "you've been sentenced to disciplinary correction for disobedience and disrespect to Alliance staff."

 

*They're going to whip me.*

 

"This is illegal," I said, my voice cracking despite my efforts to stay strong. "You can't do this."

 

"According to your contract, disciplinary measures are within our rights when deemed necessary for training purposes," he replied, unfurling the whip. "This will continue until you're ready to comply with program requirements."

 

The first lash across my back felt like fire, and I couldn't suppress the scream that tore from my throat.