Shame Application の小説・ストーリー

“You are clumsy. You are weak. You are a disappointment.” The shame burned Jax more than the anger. I felt it sting my own cheeks. I didn’t try to soothe his anger. Anger can be useful. It can keep you warm when things are cold. So I just listened. I let him feel that someone else knew his shame, that someone else saw the unfairness. I am a secret witness to his pain. He didn’t know I was there, but I hoped that somewhere deep inside, he felt a little less alone. This is how I am building my army. I am doing so not with swords but with secrets and shared feelings.

“And I know shame only works if you accept it. You shouldn’t.” “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one whose life just imploded.” “You’re right. I’m not.” He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and set it on the bar between us. Simple black card stock with silver lettering. Just a name and a phone number. “But everyone’s life implodes eventually. The question is what you do after.” “And what should I do?” “That’s not for me to decide.” He pushed the card closer to me. “But if you decide you’re tired of carrying shame for something you didn’t do, call me.”

The memory of seven years ago becomes fresh again. After Elarion’s birth, she came to me, speaking in more parables than my heart was ready to comprehend. “At the beginning of rejection, it seems as though acceptance of shame marks its end. But in the phase of impending danger, shame becomes the very instinct of survival. If you swallow your shame whole, it becomes the very sword to your throat. Therefore, one must never cuddle the end of any peril they find themselves in.” When her words finally made sense, they became the stillness beneath my feet —

I winced at the thought. And suddenly, a terrifying new question hit me like a slap: Did he stay? Was he in the room when I passed out? I sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering. If I had to see him today… if he looked at me with even a hint of pity or disgust… I might actually die. And worst of all? Deep down, beneath the embarrassment and shame… I still wanted him. I wanted him so badly it made my chest ache. ------- I hadn't eaten all day. Not because I wasn’t hungry—but because shame is surprisingly filling when it's fresh. But now it was nearly 2 p.m., and my stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself.

And this specific moment, in this specific room, with laughter coming at me from multiple directions, was producing something in my chest that those three centuries had not fully prepared me for. Shame. The old, particular kind that arrived when the space you had built for yourself was taken from you in public. The coach was still looking at me, still waiting, still with that settled administrative patience. I picked up my bag from the locker. “I’m not going to lie about it,” I said. I kept my voice level and I kept my eyes on the coach and I did not look at the benches. “I’m not going to stand in front of anyone and deny something that is true. If those are my two options, I’m choosing the

She stepped out of her skirt, then her stockings, until she stood naked on the cold concrete, her skin pale against the grey backdrop. Alistair didn't rush. He circled her slowly, like a sculptor examining a block of unhewn marble. The sound of his leather shoes was the only noise in the room. "Shoulders slumped," he noted. "Tension in the lower back. You are holding onto your shame like a shield." "It's cold," she whispered. "Cold is a sensation. Shame is a choice. Stand straight. Chin up. Chest out." Maya obeyed, her muscles locking. She felt exposed, not just physically, but fundamentally.

Her sharp nails dug into his bare backside as the wet heat of her body pressed against his, urging him to complete the act. "Now," She demanded, grinding her slick, wet flesh against his erection. "I need you now." He had no wish for this moment to linger, so with one strong thrust he consummated this sham. Pleasure shot through him like wildfire, at the same time his tormented soul was ripped by the agonizing feelings of guilt and shame. The havoc within seemed to stretch each painful second to eternity, and he carried on and on until sensations and emotions became almost too much to bear. Her scream of pleasure echoed off the room as her body shuddered beneath him, and he managed to withdr

“Mom—this is all my fault!” The feeling of shame washed over me like a glacier of ice melting into my soul. So cold and desolate, tweaking my gut with abhorrence. I felt so filthy. So disgusting. Those dirty hands imprinted into me like hot iron pokers had been forced into my skin and burned a permanent brand into it. “Go away!”

In fact, in the moment, I hate myself more than I hate the world. Shame is like a manacle around my neck as I pull out, stumbling away from her expression of dismay. Betrayal. I zip and button my rampant erection back into my dress pants. I can think of nothing to say. Everything sounds wrong on my tongue, no apology that would be good enough. I all but forced this innocent girl to give me pleasure and she was kind-hearted enough to forgive me, to participate and enjoy it, even though she's innocent of men. God.

Apologies had never come easy to me, especially when I knew I was so deeply in the wrong. As I turned the last corner to our street, the familiar houses lined up like silent witnesses to my shame, I took a deep breath. I needed to make this right. Parking the car, I sat for a moment, gathering my thoughts. The house loomed ahead, a place that had always been my sanctuary, now tinged with the discomfort of my actions. I stepped out and walked up the path, each step feeling heavier than the last.