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23. A Naked Truth

Carlo’s hand slowly trailed up from her sore backside to her hair, stroking Lyla’s trembling body as if soothing a frightened kitten.

After a long silence, he spoke, his voice much gentler than before. “Lyla, you were wrong.”

“Yes, I was wrong,” Lyla obediently nodded.

“No, what I mean is—you were wrong,” Carlo repeated, lifting her chin gently to make her face forward.

In front of her, the equipment screen lit up, displaying a blank coordinate grid. Now, a winding line appeared, wavering slightly but showing an overall slow and steady rise.

Lyla knew this experiment well enough to understand exactly what it meant.

Her earlier guilt disappeared, replaced by an overwhelming wave of shame as the undeniable truth stared her in the face.

Carlo had been right. She was wrong. If she truly believed in science, trusted that experiments didn’t lie, then she had to admit the truth. She enjoyed being controlled and had, in fact, felt a certain pleasure in the measured pain.

Carlo's hand slid fro
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