11

Michael led Cassy into the privacy of the corridor and thrust the photographs into her hand. Then he folded his arms across his chest and quietly watched her reaction as she stood nervously before him, her eyes falling on the indecent pictures.

She scanned the photographs, shame overwhelming her. Then she lifted her pleading eyes to his angry amber ones. “Please, I’m really sorry.” She implored him.

“I’m trying to figure out how you hoped to prove your virginity to me.”

"I…actually…” she began to stutter, and he gave her a curt wave of dismissal.

“Let me guess.” He interrupted in the same vein. “You were going to cry and pretend it hurts, right? After all, it is said that some women do not bleed. They probably lost it from rigorous physical activity like exercise, right?”

She started shaking her head in denial.

“No?” he pressed. “Okay. Maybe you had plans of using the fake blood capsule, which I hear can be inserted a few hours before penetrative interc