MasukZerina's POV
As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I'm met with a stranger's gaze. My eyes are red-rimmed from crying, my face gaunt and my skin sallow. I'm a pitiful sight. A shadow of my former self. My golden hair is no longer as bright and beautiful as it has always been. It's an ugly kind of dull gold.
I'm ashamed of the state I'm in, ashamed of the dirt and grime that clings to my skin.
My phone rings somewhere around my room. Weakly, I turned to pick my dirty purse from the floor and fished for my phone. The call dial read.
Shea.
A dull, but happy smile appeared on my lips. My best friend.
I answered the call and put my phone to my ear. There came Shea's voice. Loud and bubbly.
"Hi, Zerina. Will you die if you'd just pick up your phone and call me? It's been a week now. No calls, no text. No smiley face emojis to show that you care about me. Or am I not important to you anymore?"
I can feel her pouting, lying on her bed or sitting on her couch with hot coffee and a slice of toasted bread. I smile again. God, I've missed her.
She is like my soul sister. The only person who truly gets me, stands by me no matter what, through thick and thin, through laughter and tears.
I break down on the phone, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Hey girl, what's going on?" she asks, her tone gentle and concerned. "Everything is going to be alright, okay?"
"When will that be, Shea?" I voice out my frustration. "I'm tired.. tired of living. Tired of being alive in a world that doesn't care."
"Just keep going. There's always a light at the end of a tunnel, " she says. "I would've loved you to come live with me but you know how.. "
"Don't worry, Shea. I will manage.”
After my call with her, I went into the bathroom to have a cold bath. I stripped off what remained of my sexy hot red dress. It's a pity I don't have any favourite dress again. This was my last and the only best dress I had. I twisted the knobs of the tub and let the cold water rush in, fragrant with the last vanilla-scented oils I had and I don't plan on buying any again. It's very expensive and there is no spare money to replace them. I walked into the bathtub and loved how the cold water relaxed my aching muscles that were tight from the exhaustion of staying in a particular position for two days straight, and something or someone else I wasn’t ready to name.
I caught a glimpse of myself through the water — my hips, my breasts and my pussy.
The dirt from my body already changed the transparent look of the water in the tub but it wasn't dirty enough for my eyes not to outline my shape. Would I be called a pervert if I said I was aroused by just looking at my body? Or maybe I'm feeling aroused by the pleasure I could enjoy if I touched myself. If he touched me.
My sinful body had reacted before I even had time to think or stop myself. A sharp wave of heat spread through me, leaving me breathless. I had been holding back from thinking about that stranger and now, I just couldn't continue doing that.
In that room, for the first time, I wasn't traumatized much unlike before. The sudden flashbacks of our hot make-out session helped me get through. It kind of eased me from my fear of the dark.
Even just recalling the echo of his dark voice made my skin tingle and God, I wish he was right here—with me , doing all sorts of sinful things to my body. I know I should be ashamed of myself. Still, I closed my eyes as I willed myself to recall his dirty words.
"Straddle me, red." And I straddled him. I loved how he cursed when I moved my hips. I was encouraged to please him more. But I couldn't keep up. He did things to my body and I never thought I could feel so much pleasure.
I said dirty things too.
"I want your hands on me, your cock. Anything to relieve me from this tension and heat. Please do it."
And he did relieve me of the tension a little. Now, I can not help but imagine how his cock would have felt inside me. That is what I came to him for. For him to deflower me. To fuck me full. Here I am, still a fucking virgin.
"Keep straddling me, little one."
Why does his words turn me on? I wanted to feel his fingers buried deep inside me. I couldn't stop the images that ran through my mind. No matter how I tried. I yearned for his touch.
I shivered underneath the water. The pains from the wounds on my back gotten from the constant whips made me hiss in pain whenever I moved but it didn't stop me from sliding my hands under the water. With shaky breaths, my eyes still closed, I slipped two fingers past my belly, down to my waist until it met my wet, swollen pussy. It felt so hot against my fingers despite the cold temperature surrounding it.
I bit down on my bottom lip, rubbing my fingers gently over my pussy. Slowly, I picked up pace. As I imagined him here, my thighs squeezed tight. His breathing against my neck made the skin on my neck feel hot. I shivered again and it's not because of the cold water, I shivered and trembled because of my Dangerous Panties Wetter.
Slowly, my other hand moved to my already hardened right nipple. I pinched and twisted. Pinched and twisted, until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Ahh" I moaned softly, my body writhing under the water. It splashed on the floor and some into my mouth. I sucked my lower lip, still sliding my fingers—in and out of my pussy. I tried doing it the way I thought he would have done it . Pleasure coiled in my veins.
I should not do this.
"Why am I aroused over a man I barely know?" I muttered softly. "A man who fucking dumped me out in the cold. Zerina, you should be ashamed of yourself. How could you do such a thing."
My mouth kept scolding myself and my brain that should help me stop these sinful activities still encouraged me to keep going.
Here I am, without shaming, chasing pleasure as I rubbed faster. I couldn't help but make muffled sounds of moans , my back arched sharply. My hands moved to my left breast, squeezing it hard.
"Oh, please" I pleaded to the person that has been in my head for the past two days. "Fuck me, harder. I beg you."
I gasped, letting all the pleasure I felt build low in my belly.
"Ohh, Lord." I whimpered. It felt like he was right here with me. Dirty images of his fingers inside me, doing all sorts of things to me flashed in my eyes. Those lips—full, hot and can fucking pleasure me.
I rubbed harder, my breathing sharp and ragged.
This was the first time I'd ever touched myself. I've always been against masturbating, always felt disgusted when I hear of it. I usually ask why people would want to do sinful things with their body. And now, the reverse is the case. I preached against these acts to Dave when he brought p**n videos for me to watch. Look at me now shamelessly doing everything I forbade myself to do and the worst part is that it felt so damn good. I hope I won't get addicted and even if I do.. I just hope I can save myself before it's too late.
My legs twitched and jerked as something ripped through me. It gushed out of my pussy, soaking my fingers. The air in the bathroom was filled with my delicious scent. It was thick and intoxicating.
"Something must be wrong with me." I uttered quietly, staring at my naked self in disbelief. "Mr. Dangerous must have used voodoo on me because tell me why I will be doing every freaking thing I said no to."
And now, I literally wanted to go again, to fuck myself with my fingers while still thinking of him. I know I might never see that stranger again and fuck, I don't know why I'm about to say this or think this but I don't think no one can make me feel the way he makes me feel.
As I scrubbed the sponge against my dirty skin, I sighed heavily "I wish I could see him again and actually ask him why he behaved like that towards me that night. Maybe—just maybe I will get him to touch me again." It was as if something pushed in images of our dirty activities into my mind. That made me clasp my thighs. I was aroused again. "Shit, Zerina. Get a hold of yourself." I closed my eyes, pushing back those images to where they came from. "I would still want to see him again but well, If wishes were horses, beggars like me would...."
The sudden bang on the bathroom door made my eyes widened.
"Zerina!!! " Florence's pitched voice berated from the door. I forgot I was supposed to meet my family for lunch as soon as possible.
With shaky breaths, I tried my best to remove what was left of the dirt in my body before rushing out. I almost slipped and it would've been a heavy fall if I wasn't quick to steady myself before a major disaster occured. I wrapped my white towel around my chest before walking out of the bathroom on bare feet.
Florence was already sitting on my small-sized couch, looking elegant and composed. Far across her were two women dressed in scrubs. I didn't need anyone to tell me they were nurses. I stared at them confused and my eyes darted back to my stepmother. What were two nurses doing in my room?
Author's point of view Lysander had faced assassins without blinking, stared down monsters without flinching, and negotiated with men who would gladly kill for less. Yet, somehow, nothing had prepared him for this. As the main page showed up, Lysander looked at Zerina with astonishment. This was what she wanted to play? What the fuck was there to be excited about? He felt the need to facepalm himself. But then again, what was he expecting from this little wife? He couldn't believe that a King as himself was one day going to play such a childish game. He briefly closed his eyes, resisting the urge to question every decision that had brought him here. He considered leaving but when he glanced at the little girl beside him, nearly glowing with excitement, he leaned back against the bed instead and accepted that this was his fate. Zerina, meanwhile, could hardly sit still. She clutched her game controller. Her eyes were wide, focused and sparkling with excitement that made no
Zerina's point of view Time moved in the slowest, cruelest way it always did when you were anticipating something or someone. I sat cross-legged on the floor of my room, directly in front of the TV, staring at the blank screen like it might magically turn on by itself if I glared enough. Everything was already set up. The blankets were spread neatly across the floor—the softest one I could find, the ones that smelled of clean laundry and comfort too. I had stacked the pillows against the bedstand in a way that made the whole setup look inviting and warm. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Except that one thing was missing. My husband. Oops, I giggled. Those words sounded foreign in my head. I checked the time on my phone again, even though I'd checked it less than ten seconds ago. What were those two brothers discussing down there? I hope everything is fine. Two knuckle heads in one room. My eyes widened. I hope they won't fight there. I wanted to go down and chec
Author's point of view The moment Zerina stepped out of the dining room, it felt as if the air itself grew colder. The silence she left behind wasn't peaceful—no. It was heavy. Like the whole mansion was holding its breath because she wasn't there to soften the atmosphere anymore. Darkling watched her go before he sat down, pushing his plate aside. Lysander's gaze followed Zerina until she completely disappeared from view. Only then did he turn back. The softness he had shown her, that warmth he reserved only for her vanished in a blink. His entire aura shifted just like a predator tossing away its disguise. "What do you want, Icarion?" Lysander's voice was cold. No emotion. Just pure, frigid command. Darkling's jaw clenched. The sound of that name, Icarion—slithered under his skin like poison. "There we go again, brother," he said with a smirk, even though his fists were curling tight. "Calling me the name you know I so much despise." Lysander's lips lifted into a slow,
Zerina's point of view I was still trying to compare their distinct features. I didn't even realize I was staring that hard until, suddenly, the man behind me slid his hands to my waist, pulling my attention back to him. My heart jumped. "Stop looking at him like that, little one," he whispered close to my ear. "If you keep doing that, I might start thinking you're asking for trouble. And dear wife, this single act makes me want to punish you." The little smile he gave me was almost playful, but it still sent a warm shiver down my spine. I didn't know how to answer that. Why would he punish me? "P-punish?" The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. I was kind of confused. "But.. didn't you say you'd only.. um.. punish me if I broke those three rules?" Lysander's lips curved slowly, and suddenly his hand came up to cup my face. His thumb brushed my cheek so gently that my breath tangled in my throat. "Zerina, I never said that I will punish you if you don't ob
Author’s point of view What? They grew up here? Together? Zerina was amazed. It kind of made sense in a way she still couldn't understand. The house looked so ancient like it existed since the 1800's. Or did their parents just build it this way? Was it their taste? And come to think of it...what about their parents? Where were they? Are they dead? A thousand and one question bubbled in her head and as if Lysander knew…the man released a low breath, glaring intensely at his brother for spitting something like that out while Darkling just kept eating without even glancing at him again. He only looked up to smile playfully at the curious Zerina. The room shifted just a little— like the air tightened between the two men. Zerina felt it immediately. It wasn't just the sharp kind of tension. It was quieter, heavier like two storms sitting across from each other. And somehow, Mrs. Aveline's warnings about Darkling only made the weight on Zerina's chest grow stronger. Yet at the
Zerina's point of view My fork slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the plate. His face, which had been calm moments ago, had tightened into something colder. His eyes burned with that terrifying, icy glow I'd come to recognize means he was done being patient. "Now , Zerina!" I swallowed hard and pushed myself up and walked closer to him. His gaze never left me. Every step felt like I was walking towards a storm. When I reached his side, he caught my hand without hesitation... warm fingers wrapping around mine, firm, commanding — and he gently pulled me onto his laps. Yes. His laps again. I froze, halfway perched on his thigh, not even sure how to breathe anymore. I expected him to tell me that I should go to my room. But he didn't.. he didn't push me away. He settled me properly on his lap, one strong arm circling my waist to steady me. I stared at him, stunned. "Take your plate, and continue eating. " I was confused. His voice dropped lower, colder and







