My Life For His Debt

Rodah's POV

I woke up the next morning with my body still sore in the worst places. My pussy felt sensitive from the way Martinez had licked and sucked me last night until I screamed. I hated how easily I had given in.

“That was not the plan,” I whispered to myself.

A silver tray sat on the table with hot breakfast — eggs, fruit, fresh coffee. Next to it was a note in his sharp handwriting and a deep red silk dress laid out with matching high heels.

I picked up the note and read it quickly.

'Eat your breakfast. Be ready in two hours. We are going to a meeting and I want my wife with me.

Last night you swore you would never let me fuck you. Yet you were coming hard on my tongue before you even finished your sentence. Don’t lie to yourself again, Rodah.'

My face burned red. “Bastard,” I whispered as I balled the note in my fists.

The dress looked expensive.

Everything in this house screamed money — the huge bed, the marble bathroom, the heavy curtains. This was the world I had walked into to save my father.

One million dollars. My life for his debt.

The door came open and young maid stepped in politely.

“Good morning, Mrs. Martinez. The master asked me to help you with your dress and hair.”

“Hmm. The master, huh?”

She nodded.

“He does not like delays. He'll have me do whatever you want me to so you can be ready in two hours.”

I turned to her.

“I don’t need help. You can leave.”

The maid looked nervous.

“But ma’am, the master is very strict. He wants you ready on time.”

“I said leave,” I told her sharply. “I will get ready myself.”

She hesitated, then bowed slightly.

“As you wish, ma’am.” She left and closed the door quietly.

I smiled to myself. Let him wait.

I ate, then showered. When I finally slipped on the red dress, it hugged my tits and ass tightly. The neckline showed too much cleavage, but if they had picked it for me, then it was what he wanted to have me wear.

Three hours passed. I was deliberately slow — brushing my hair again and again, still barefoot, the red dress on but not zipped fully at the back.

Suddenly the door flew open with a loud bang.

Martinez stormed in, tall and furious in his black jacket and grey dress pants. His white shirt was left unbuttoned at the top, revealing the hairs on his chest.

His eyes narrowed when he saw me half-ready.

“Why the fuck aren’t you ready?” he growled.

I turned slowly and gave him a tight sarcastic smile that didn't light up my eyes.

“I’m trying to look good enough to stand next to a man like you. It takes time to appear as the perfect wife, doesn’t it?”

His jaw clenched hard. “You were told two hours. It’s been three fucking hours. Where is the maid?”

“I sent the maid away,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t need anyone dressing me like a doll.”

Martinez stepped closer, voice low and dangerous.

“You're so bent on testing me, aren't you?”

“Well, haven't you thought about how extremely bossy you are?”

Fury flashed in his eyes. Before I could step back, he grabbed me, bent down, and scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing. One arm under my knees, the other behind my back.

“Put me down right now!” I shouted, kicking my legs.

He picked up my high heels from the floor with his free hand and headed straight for the door.

“Martinez! Let me go! I’m not a fucking child!”

“Shut your mouth,” he ordered.

I thrashed harder, hitting his back with my fists. “Put me down! Now!”

He stopped suddenly in the middle of the wide corridor. His voice dropped to a dark whisper.

“Keep screaming like that and I’ll tear this red dress off your body right here. I’ll push you against the wall, spread your legs wide, and fuck your tight little cunt hard and fast while anyone walking by can watch. You want that? You want everyone to hear you moaning and begging while I pound you in the corridor?”

My heart slammed in my chest. Heat rushed between my legs even as I tried to tell myself that I hated him.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, wife,” he dared.

“My cock is already hard thinking about how wet you got last night. How you swore you wouldn’t let me touch you, yet you came screaming on my tongue in under five minutes. I can fuck you right now and leave you dripping down your thighs for the rest of the day.”

I stopped thrashing. My face felt hot.

“Fine. Just… put me down. I’ll walk.”

He didn’t put me down. He carried me down the long hallway, past expensive paintings and guards who looked away quickly.

I felt small and helpless in his strong arms. His chest was hard against me, and his scent filled my nose again — that same dark cologne from last night.

“Everyone is staring,” I hissed quietly.

“Let them stare,” he said. “They know you belong to me.”

When we reached a side room near the entrance, he finally set me on my feet. He dropped the heels in front of me.

“Put them on. Now.”

I bent down fast and slipped the shoes on. They made my legs look longer, but he still towered over me.

Martinez grabbed my chin roughly and forced me to look up at him.

“You will not make me wait again. Do you understand?”

I glared back, cheeks still burning. “I understand.”

He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching mine.

“Good. And when we come back tonight, I’m going to tie you down again and remind you exactly how fast that stubborn mouth shuts up when my tongue is on your clit.”

My pussy clenched at his words. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to tell him to fuck off. But my body remembered last night too well.

He released my chin and straightened his jacket. “Let’s go. My wife needs to learn how to behave.”

I followed him out to the black car waiting outside, heart racing fast. The red dress clung to every curve.