Chapter 6

His hand cupped my breast, squeezing and caressing it roughly as my breath hitched.

I found myself pushing him away, trying to run, and saying, "I'm sorry, I can't do it. I'm not..." I couldn't finish as he grabbed me from behind and pinned me against the wall. "This should be a last warning to you," he snarled, "don't dare try to talk or escape."

My heart flipped at that... As I stared into his eyes, they were filled with desire...

I kept on pushing him, but he did not budge.

Rather, he took both my hands and pinned them above my head.

He sucked my neckline, giving it a bite, and I yelped.

Tears gushed down my eyes as he used his other free hand and fumbled with my breasts, his lips reconnecting to mine.

His hand went down to my shaved vagina.

I felt his finger inside me, and I winced in pain.

He carried me and dropped me onto his bed, quickly removing his towel.

My fear increased as I saw his dick, so big and hard. My body shivered. His d**k located my vagina, and he plunged in.

I screamed because I felt pain, not pleasure.

He pulled out and pushed in, repeating the process.

Liquids were flowing down my legs, sweat dripping down my body.

My body vibrated in response.

I looked down my leg and saw blood.

"No... no... no... This can't be..." I muffled in tears.

He made sure he stretched me before finally pushing in for the last time.

He beat f***king me mercilessly.

I was a crying mess.

It was pains upon pains, sweat dripping on our bodies. Surely, my own sweat came from the hell I’m enduring, while his was from enjoyment, because he was moaning.

He pulled out of me and carried me.

My legs wrapped around his torso, his head buried in one of my breasts as he suckled like a child.

My eyes were already weak with tears.

My body was limp, and I couldn't do anything.

He short-kissed my lips, slowly spreading my legs before plunging in again.

I am repeatedly crying.

I couldn't do anything or say anything.

After all, I'm his slave, as they do say.

My only prayer was to be alive in the next hours. I'm seriously hungry; I haven't eaten.

My legs were weak, my voice cracked and hoarse.

My eyes drowsy and red with tears.

I just stared at him as he enjoyed himself the whole time.

He groaned as he pushed himself up, looming over me before settling behind me, his presence heavy and oppressive.

“Get out of my room, and don’t make me repeat myself,” he snarled.

I rolled my head weakly against the bed, the hunger gnawing at my insides like a relentless beast. “I’m hungry, please, I’m so hungry,” I whimpered, the words spilling from my lips in a broken chant.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stood up, his movements sharp with irritation, and stalked toward the bathroom. “Don’t let me come back and find you here,” he warned, his voice cold and final.

How could I possibly stand when my body felt like lead? Every muscle ached, every bone screamed in protest. Tears streamed down my face as I lay there, my mind whispering in defiance, I won’t move. If he wants me gone, he’ll have to kill me first. Even death would be better than this miserable existence.

When he returned, a towel slung over his shoulder, his skin still damp from a bath, his eyes darkened with annoyance. “What the hell are you still doing here?” he demanded, his voice laced with impatience.

Weakly, barely above a whisper, I repeated the only words that mattered anymore: “I’m… hungry.”