Sins Of My Body

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming Kickass Heroine Comeback Revenge

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ROSIANNA

“Yes, baby. Oh...yes...!” I cried out louder as the guy thrust deeper into me. Fuck, it felt so good.

The guy spanked my big ass as he impaled me harder with his big cock. I would have told him not to spank me, but I was so deep into the fucking, I ignored him.

I was feeding my addiction. I didn’t really have a choice here.

“Aww fuck,” he groaned, rubbing my clit before his sneaky fingers went much lower, as he plunged into me from behind, over and over.

I could feel my body tighten. My release washed over me as I cried out. I saw stars as it catapulted my body into a whirlwind of sweet pleasure. His groan reached my ear, and his body shook over mine as he found his own release.

I got up after and walked naked to the bathroom without a backward glance. I took my time washing up, not giving a care in the world if my visitor left. I wish he would. It’d make things a lot easier.

An hour later, I came out and was relieved when I saw an empty room.

I didn’t even know his name.

I didn’t care.

I never did.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Rosianna Bells, and I’m twenty-four years old. I own a small but successful textile company, so you can consider me a rich woman. I am addicted to sex. That is the hidden me.

To the outside world, I was a rich, businesslike woman that barely smiles at the opposite sex. People respected me out there in society—which I deserved, by the way. I was what you could consider cool, reserved, and collected. But in the inner world, I was just a sex addict who couldn’t function without regular sex; I’d been that way since I was eighteen. I slept with different guys every few days.

Nameless. Faceless. All I wanted was their dicks. The orgasm they could give me.

I know you’re judging me but save your breath. I don’t care what you, or anybody else for that matter, thinks.

No one has a right to judge me. No one.

Dressed in a well-tailored business suit, I walked into my two-story building of a textile factory the next day and came to a stop at the commotion in the office.

On an average day, everyone organizes themselves and does their jobs perfectly. “Guess this is not a normal day,” I muttered. They were all in a group, murmuring whatever gossip they had going for them.

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