TASTEFULLY INDECENT
07
I didn’t bother waiting a full month after Level 6.
The bruises had only just started to yellow at the edges, but the ache between my legs never really faded. Every time I crossed my thighs in a meeting or felt the seatbelt press against my hips in a Bolt ride, I remembered the stretch, the burn, the way three bodies had turned me into nothing but holes and heat and helpless release. The forum had gone quiet on Level 7—most threads stopped at 6, like people either broke for good or simply couldn’t describe what came next. One anonymous post lingered in my mind: “Level 7 isn’t about more people. It’s about more inside you. Until there’s no room left for anything else—not thought, not fear,