I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Lysander’s pov

Drake wasn’t visible in the frame at all, only me, moaning my head off, my eyes squeezed shut, my jaw slackened with pleasure on every thrust.

Shame ate through my insides like pure acid as the entire lecture hall burst into loud, cruel, unrestrained chatter.

Most of them had the video playing on their own screens now, the audio of my total humiliation echoing off the walls until I couldn’t breathe.

Even through the suffocating haze of my shame, white-hot rage flared deep in my gut, burning through my fear.

Drake had leaked this video.

I hadn’t worn a wig or a mask when I was with Drake, which was why everyone in the building recognized my face instantly.

Gideon had forced me to keep a mask on when he filmed me, but Drake had exposed my bare, defenseless face to the entire world.

He uploaded this to destroy my life simply because I told him to leave me alone, because I dared to push him away.

A hard, humiliating slap landed sharply across my bare ass, jolting me forward in my seat as a wave of mocking laughter erupted behind me.

I twisted around, my face burning with a mix of tears and anger, to see three guys from my class looming over my desk.

"Damn, look at that bounce," the ringleader chuckled, rubbing his palm against his jeans with a disgusting leer.

"I’ve been wanting to do that all semester, to be completely honest."

"Hey, Lysander," he mocked, leaning his hands on my desk. "Had no idea you were so eager to get bent over and taken. How much for a night?"

"I’m not—" I choked out, tears of absolute humiliation stinging the corners of my eyes.

"Who says he’s only into guys?" another guy jeered from the row behind him. "He looks fragile enough to get taken by anyone with cash. How much do you charge?"

"Don’t worry, sweet boy," the ringleader smirked, leaning down so close I could smell the stale coffee on his breath.

"Once you taste real cock, you’ll forget all about whatever toys you were using in that video."

My seat partner laughed loudly, clapping his hands together. "I volunteer to go first!"

"You’ll get your turn in line," the ringleader grinned, flicking my ear. "Something tells me Lysander likes getting used for hours on end. Don’t you, puppy?"

I couldn’t stop shaking, panic completely suffocating the desperate words of protest in my throat as no one in the room stepped in to help.

Instead, dozens of students were holding up their smartphones, recording my breakdown while whispering and giggling among themselves.

"Just listen to him in the video," the first guy sneered, leaning in further. "He sounds like he’s begging for it. Name your price, Lysander."

My vision began to swim, hot bile rising in my throat until it was the only thing I could taste.

"Does your mom know you’re selling yourself out on campus?" another jeered, the room erupting into a deafening, terrifying roar of laughter.

Rage sharpened in my blood, snapping the fragile thread of my sanity before I even realized what my body was doing.

I lunged out of my seat with a wild cry, throwing myself at the ringleader and clawing frantically at his face and eyes with my nails.

Yells of pain echoed through the room as my hands made contact, but I was vastly outnumbered as four guys grabbed my arms to pin me down.

I fought, kicked, and scratched with every ounce of strength left in my body until the sharp, shrill blast of a security whistle cut through the chaos.

Strong, heavy arms yanked me off the floor, dragging my trembling, exhausted body down the hallway toward the holding cell in the east wing.

The holding room was freezing, silent, and completely empty save for a single heavy wooden chair bolted to the floor.

The security guard threw me inside without a word, and the heavy metal door slammed shut, the deadbolt clicking into place with a terrifying thud.

"Wait! Please, let me out!" I screamed, throwing my weight against the reinforced metal, but only got the fading sound of heavy boots in response.

Panicking, I backed away into the shadows of the dark, windowless room, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

This holding cell was used for violent campus incidents before city police arrived, feeling far more like an isolated prison cell than a waiting area.

It was dark, freezing cold, with only one tiny, tinted transom window high up near the ceiling that admitted almost no sunlight.

My mind raced wildly, absolute horror settling deep into my bones as I realized the full, irreversible consequences of the leak.

If the video was circulating on the department group chats, it was only a matter of time before it reached my mother and Darius.

My hands shook so violently I almost dropped my phone twice as I pulled it out of my back pocket.

My mother would be completely heartbroken, utterly devastated by the public scandal and what it meant for my reputation.

Darius would turn his back on me, realizing his new stepson was a ruined, filthy scandal waiting to blow up in the press.

Gideon would laugh in my face, utterly thrilled to see me thrown out onto the street with nowhere left to go.

And Drake... Drake would come back for me, dragging me back to his penthouse with no one left in the world to protect me.

Hyperventilation seized my chest, my lungs constricting as I gasped desperately for air that simply wouldn’t fill my lungs.

I staggered back to the metal door, pounding my bruised knuckles against the cold steel until my skin tore and bled.

"Let me out!" I sobbed, my voice cracking painfully. "Please, somebody let me out!"

My heart hammered so violently against my ribs I genuinely thought it was going to burst inside my chest.

Darkness began creeping into the edges of my vision, swirling around me like a heavy, suffocating trap.

My knees gave out completely, and I slumped toward the cold floor, my chest heaving as the entire room spun out of control.

My whole body was hyper-aware of the fact that I was hyperventilating to death, my mind convincing me my heart was failing right then and there.

Just as my consciousness began to slip away into blackness, the heavy electronic lock clicked, and the door swung wide open.

Warm afternoon sunlight poured into the dark room, chasing away the shadows as I tumbled forward onto a broad, solid chest.

A subtle cologne hit my nose a fraction of a second before a sickeningly familiar voice chuckled darkly against my ear.

"Poor, pathetic sweet Lysander," Gideon whispered, his voice dripping with dark, insincere sympathy as his arms locked around me.

"You really shouldn’t have ignored my calls, little brother."

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