The traitorous comfort in Valentina's mind was the most humiliating part: "It's fine... at least I won't have to have actual sex, the kind that feels like intimacy or something human today."
'This is just... this is just slave work.'
'If I get some real food, I won't have to do the other things.'
That pathetic, selfish bargain she was making with herself made her want to scream and vomit all at once. The thought that "not having sex" was a potential reward for accepting this degradation was revolting.
Desperation, sharp and ugly, took over her voice. The hunger in her stomach was like a living thing, gnawing at her insides, acidic and painful, making her feel faint.
She looked up at Rex, whose hand was still possessive and rough on her nape, the fingers occasionally leaving red marks on her thinning skin, and begged.
