Mag-log inZerina'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?
My heart was already exhausted from the ridiculous jogging torture Lysander had forced me through earlier, yet somehow it began beating even faster. I didn’t even understand how that was possible. It was as if the poor thing had decided to abandon all logic and simply sprint toward its own destruction. Before I even realized what he was doing, Lysander suddenly moved. One second I was standing there, still catching my breath from running, and the next I felt a sudden sting at my wrist as his hand caught it. Everything happened far too quickly. His shadow fell over me. His other hand rose to my face. Then his lips were on mine. Warm. Firm. Brief. So brief that by the time my brain understood what had happened, it was already over. The kiss lasted barely a moment but it was enough for my head to be filled with torrents of memories rushing back in. The way I’d felt that night. My hot flushed body. Gosh, Zerina. Get a hold of yourself. These memories left my entire world spinning.M
Zerina’s Point Of View When I woke up, the sky outside was still dim and grey. For a moment I simply blinked up at the ceiling, trying to understand where I was and why my body felt so warm and comfortable. Then my memory slowly returned. Right… I had been reading while waiting for Lysander. My eyes widened. Wait. WAIT. “Oh my God…” I gasped and shot upright in bed. “Did I seriously fall asleep?!” Panic flooded my system instantly. I whipped my head around the room, searching for any sign of him. There was nothing. No tall, dark, terrifyingly handsome man leaning against the wall. No dangerous presence sitting by the bed. He wasn’t here. “Was he downstairs the whole time?” I muttered nervously. Or had he come in… seen me sleeping… and just left? My stomach twisted. What time was it?! I scrambled across the bed, nearly face-planting on the mattress as I grabbed my phone from the bedside table. The moment I saw the time, my eyes almost popped out of my head. Morning. I
Author’s Point of ViewZero a did not quite know what emotion she was supposed to feel after hearing his explanation. “A-an unripe fruit? Excuse me? Who does he think he—” “Shh… Go upstairs now.”The warmth that had briefly shimmered in his gaze faded, replaced by a cold, shadowed chill that settled over him like dusk swallowing light. Zerina understood in that instant that she should not push him any further. Still, she could not help the agitation rising within her. Being likened to a fruit was one thing—but an unripe fruit? That comparison bruised her pride. She puffed out her cheeks in protest and lifted her foot as if to stomp, but before doing so, she shot him a glare meant to convey her displeasure at being compared to an inanimate object. Fortunately for her, she was already halfway up the stairs—yes, she deliberately chose the staircase instead of the elevator mostly because she didn’t want to be reminded of her trauma and also, so she could imagine stepping on his fa
Lysander set Zerina down gently at the foot of the ladder. He turned toward her afterward and said, “I’ll climb down first. Make sure you grip the ladder properly so the wind doesn’t sweep you away again.” His voice almost carried a trace of concern, yet a sly, dangerous smile curved his lips as he spoke those words. He descended swiftly, and the instant his shoes touched the solid ground below, he tilted his head upward and gestured for her to come down. Zerina swallowed nervously. It had been simple when she climbed up earlier, but now that she was looking down from that height, fear crept into her chest. Fortunately, seeing Lysander waiting beneath her steadied her racing heart. She placed her foot on the first rung, and Lysander immediately noticed the faint tremor in her legs. His posture stiffened as he became alert. This girl was truly unbelievable. How could she speak so boldly and act so fearless, yet tremble over something like this? As Zerina carefully made her way d
Author’s Point Of ViewZerina stared at him as though he had suddenly sprouted another head. “Do something thrilling? What could possibly be more thrilling than watching the sky from up here?” she asked, honestly bewildered. To her, this was already more than enough. She couldn’t imagine anything surpassing this moment—climbing onto the rooftop, resting in her boyfriend’s arms, and admiring the soft, fading colors of the evening sky as they slowly dissolved into grey. It felt like a dream fulfilled, the very peak of romance. Yet a doubt crept in. Perhaps for someone like him—someone who had traveled far, who had seen the world in ways she hadn’t—this might not be extraordinary at all. Lysander’s smirk deepened, sharpening at the edges, and something wicked flickered in his eyes. Without warning, he pushed himself up and twisted his body, shifting so that in the next instant he was half draped over her. His gaze gleamed with dark amusement as he looked down at her, trapping her b
Author’s Point Of View Lysander stood there in complete silence, staring at Zerina as though she had just spoken in a language he did not understand. For a long moment, he truly did not move. He had implied enough. Any other woman would have caught on immediately. Any other woman would have smirked, teased, pushed the tension further. But not Zerina. This little wife had simply declared that she would “work hard” without even knowing what he meant. This foolish little wife… A muscle ticked in his jaw. She had already forgotten the very first warning he had ever given her — to think before she spoke. To understand the weight of her own words. Yet here she was, offering herself into an agreement she barely comprehended. And the worst part? She looked so serious about it. He exhaled slowly through his nose. He only hoped she would not back out of their arrangement later. Because if she did… if she tried to run from something she had willingly stepped into… His gaze d
Author's Point of ViewLysander was standing beside the window, one hand resting against the glass. His eyes were still cold and cruel, but Zerina noticed something different this time. There was no jeweled hardness in their depths. She stepped inside cautiously, and had no idea what to do in the
Zerina's Point Of View I ran along the staircase, using my eyes to search for Mr. Wilson. The marble floor seemed to stretch on forever, a cold, unforgiving expanse that matched the dread pooling in my stomach. I didn’t know what to do. I hated this feeling—the heaviness in my chest, the guilt w
Zerina's Point Of ViewAll the way home, Lysander didn’t say a word. He drove the car with his eyes fixed straight ahead, his grip tight on the steering wheel. The air around him felt heavy and suffocating, and I didn’t need anyone to tell me that he was not in a good mood.I wanted to explain what
Authors Point Of View His voice was as cold as an iceberg. Zerina didn’t know why such a voice—so sharp and distant—could make her heart settle in such an awkward moment. They had only met a few days ago. She didn’t even know him well. But one thing she was certain of was this— She felt safe wi







