The days following the lesson stretched into something unbearable. Natasha moved through campus in a fog, her body present but her mind perpetually elsewhere. The rawness in her throat had faded after two days, but the memory of it lingered. She found herself pressing her fingers to her neck in quiet moments, seeking the ghost of that fullness.
She attended her classes. She took notes. She smiled when appropriate and nodded when expected. But underneath the performance of normalcy, something had fundamentally shifted. The rules played in a constant loop in her mind. Your body belongs to me. You will not touch yourself without permission. You will learn to beg for what you want. You will learn to swallow.
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