SAMANTHA
The following day, I made my way to the training area as planned. The morning air was crisp, and I could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on me. The other sex slaves were already there, clustered in tight groups. When they spotted me, their excitement was palpable. They were eagerly anticipating some drama, their eyes gleaming with malicious delight.
I paid them no mind. My attention skipped past those women and settled on someone I recognized. It took me by surprise. It was Molly. What was she doing here? She was at the center of her usual entourage, flanked by her followers and sex slaves. One of the women said something to amuse her, and she erupted in laughter, clearly pleased. Then, our eyes locked, and she gave me a taunting smile. Her gaze filled with scorn and self-satisfaction.
