Page 15

S tepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around myself and walk to my room. Axe is sprawled in a chair, scowling. The sight of him stops me in my tracks.

“Have fun?” He slowly stands and walks over to me, his eyes burning into mine.

“What are you doing in here?” I quickly step back.

“This is my house.” He closes in, and I back up until my back is against the wall. “And you’re my property.”

“I am not your property.”

“Yes, you are,” he growls, leaning in. “Your body belongs to me.” His lips are inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. “I own you, little siren.” He roughly grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Spencer just took me to dinner,” I blurt out.

“I don’t give a shit,” he snaps. “You don’t ignore me. Do you understand?” Tears prick my eyes, and my lip quivers. I’m exhausted and overwhelmed; I just want to sleep.

“Axel,” I whisper, locking eyes with him. “Please.” My voice cracks as the tears spill over. “Just leave me alone. Please.”

For a moment, I catch a glimpse of something in his eyes—sympathy, maybe even remorse. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone.

He reaches for the towel, yanking it away like he owns me. Impulsively, I react, slapping him hard across the face. The shock of what I’ve done hits me immediately. My palm stings, and my breath quickens.

He slowly turns to me, his eyes burning with rage. Fuck.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that,” he growls.

In one swift move, he grabs me by the neck and throws me onto the bed, dragging me until my head hangs over the edge. His belt is off in an instant, and before I can even process it, he’s tightening it around my throat.

Panic surges through me as I kick and thrash, desperate to break free, but his strength is overwhelming. My vision blurs as the belt constricts tighter, choking off my air.

“You are mine, little siren,” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Mine to control, mine to fuck, and mine to kill .”

“No,” I croak, but my protest is cut short as he pulls the belt tighter, pushing me closer to the edge of unconsciousness.

“Yes.” He tightens his belt further.

The world fades, darkness closing in as my fight slips away.

I’m so tired, so weak.

His eyes are nothing but dark voids, the brown replaced with black—the devil’s eyes.

My fingers claw at the belt cutting into my throat.

“Stop fighting,” he commands, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “Make it worse, and you’ll regret it.”

My mind races, convinced he’s going to kill me. Just when I think I’m about to lose consciousness, he loosens it, allowing a rush of oxygen to fill my lungs. The relief is so intense it’s almost painful.

“Fuck,” I wheeze, but the belt is still too tight.

“Look at me,” he demands, and despite everything, my tear-filled eyes snap up to meet his.

The sound of his zipper sends a chill down my spine, and when his cock springs free, a cold dread seeps into my bones. His hand moves slowly, as he strokes himself, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Open your mouth.”

I shake my head, and he tightens the belt, further darkening my vision. “Do as I say.”

My lips part involuntarily as I gasp, and he shoves his cock between them, thrusting into my mouth. The head hits the back of my throat, and I gag, my mouth stretched painfully wide around his hard length.

He pulls back, only to slam forward again, forcing himself deeper.

“Don’t get any fucking ideas.” He fists my hair, keeping my head in place.

The other hand grips the belt, choking off my air once more. The thought of biting him flits through my mind, but I’m too weak to act on it.

His hips keep moving, each thrust pushing his cock deeper, hitting the back of my throat repeatedly. He lets out a low, satisfied moan. “Take it, little siren,” he groans, as if this is all I’m good for.

A whore. Worthless.

Tears blur my vision as I struggle to swallow around his cock. I’m so focused on not choking that I almost miss the feel of his fingers invading my pussy. He plunges them inside me without warning, forcing a muffled gasp from my mouth.

“That’s right,” he rasps, his eyes burning into mine with twisted satisfaction. “Take it. Take it all.”

His fingers plunge deeper, and I involuntarily clench around them, my body betraying me in the worst way. I hate how easily I respond to his touch, how he knows exactly what buttons to press.

I feel trapped—vulnerable and exposed, like a wild animal caught in a snare. My heart races, adrenaline surging through me, desperate for a way out.

His thrusts are relentless, his cock hitting the back of my throat again and again, each one more punishing than the last. His fingers work in sync with his hips, pushing my body to react in ways I despise. My core tightens, my body trembling with unwanted pleasure.

I want to fight him. I want to kick, scratch, bite—anything to make this stop. But I can’t...it feels too damn good.

His grip on the belt loosens just enough for me to gasp for air, but it’s a cruel reprieve. “Fucking hell,” he growls, his cock pulsing against my tongue. “Your mouth feels so fucking good, little siren.”

Stop enjoying this! my mind screams, but my body refuses to listen.

“You want me to fuck your throat raw? To come in your pretty mouth?”

Stop enjoying this!

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation, but it’s useless. His fingers inside me, his hard length in my mouth—it’s overwhelming. My body starts to surrender, little by little, until I can’t hold back the moan that vibrates around his cock. Shame burns through me, but I can’t stop.

His thrusts grow more aggressive, the belt tightening around my throat once more. “Fuck,” he groans, lost in his own sick pleasure.

He put a collar on you! I scream inwardly, desperately trying to regain control.

This isn’t a fucking romance novel. He’s not some sexy, tortured hero. He’s a monster—a cruel, heartless bastard. He’s hurting you, degrading you, violating you.

He imprisoned you in a basement! This isn’t some twisted fairy tale; he’s no Prince Charming. He’s the fucking devil.

My brain screams at me to wake up and stop letting him win. Stop giving in to him. But the darkness inside me, the part I keep locked up, is reveling in the attention. The kind of attention only a monster can give—one that leaves me feeling filthy, tainted, and ruined.

As much as I despise him, there’s a broken part of me that craves him.

It sickens me to admit it, but it’s the truth.

His fingers pump in and out of my pussy, and his cock slams into the back of my throat, over and over. All I can think about is how much I want to come.

It’s wrong. It’s twisted. But my body doesn’t give a damn.

“You’re mine, little siren,” he snarls, pounding viciously now, his cock hitting that spot that blocks my oxygen.

I’m drowning in him—his smell, his taste, his touch.

“Your body belongs to me. Your pleasure is mine. Your pain is mine. Your screams, your moans, your everything. It’s all mine.”

His fingers are relentless, plunging deep and hard, each thrust a brutal reminder of his control. His cock throbs, the taste of his pre-cum thick and heavy on my tongue. I don’t even know how many fingers he’s using, but it feels like he’s stretching me to my limit.

I’m his plaything. His toy. A slave to his every whim. And god, I fucking hate it.

My hips grind against his fingers, and my body betrays me with every surge of pleasure. His cock pulses in my mouth, and he grunts, his fingers working faster.

“Swallow it all,” he growls, his voice strained.

His cock swells, and then he spills his cum down my throat. His orgasm is violent, his body shaking, muscles tensing. His eyes roll back, jaw clenched in pure ecstasy.

His fingers keep moving, and my walls tighten, the pleasure suffocating. I can’t fight it; I can’t resist it. One final rough thrust and I reluctantly shatter, a muffled cry ripping from my lips as I clench around his fingers.

He groans, his cock still pulsing as he empties down my throat.

Tears blur my vision as I gasp for air, desperate, but it’s not enough. I swallowed his cum, and the thought makes me want to vomit.

He finally pulls his fingers out, and I can’t help the whimper that escapes me. The belt loosens, and my eyes lock with his. I’m panting, gasping for breath.

Without warning, he yanks my face close, crashing his lips into mine. His kiss is bruising, his tongue invading my mouth, tasting his cum mixed with my tears.

“You’re a monster,” I rasp, tears streaming down my cheeks. “You’re a monster!”

“I’m worse than a monster. I’m your fucking husband.” His grip tightens on my throat.

I hate him.

I hate him so much.

“If you ever run off again, I’ll tie you up and whip you until you can hardly walk. And if you ever”—his eyes flare with rage— “slap me again, I’ll make you wish you were dead.” His thumb grazes my bottom lip, and I can’t look away, trapped in his gaze.

Every instinct screams at me to fight back, to shove him away. But fear has me paralyzed, swallowing my defiance.

“I’m going to enjoy breaking you, Rory.” A wicked smile curls at the edges of his lips. And just like that, he turns and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

My heart hammers, the sound deafening in my ears as everything crashes down around me. Disgust. Confusion. Rage. They hit all at once, choking me. How could I enjoy that?

A bitter taste rises in my throat, my mind scrambling for excuses, anything to explain it away. It’s been too long since anyone touched me. That’s all it is—just the deprivation, the loneliness messing with my head .

I cling to the lies, desperate for them to be true.

But the more I say them, the emptier they feel.

I’m even more broken than I thought.

So much more broken.