⚠️ Warning: Abuse, descriptive sexual acts, please refrain from reading this if you're below 18, forbidden love, BDSM, sex control, manipulation. "Take off your dress,” he ordered, his voice quiet but commanding. One guard hesitated and tried to speak, “But, sir—” Damian’s cold stare silenced him immediately. “I said take it off,” he repeated, this time with no room for argument. The guards exchanged nervous looks and then left the room, closing the door with a chilling finality. Aurora was now alone with this man, the one who had bought her like an object. Her dress felt heavy, her heels like chains. Taking a shaky step toward him, her breathing echoed in the silence. “Please,” Aurora whispered, dropping to her knees. “I’m only eighteen. Don’t do this.” Her voice was small, trembling, but she knew he held all the power.
Lihat lebih banyakI always knew my mother didn’t love me. Even as a small child, I could feel it. Other kids had mothers who held their hands, who smiled and laughed with them. But my mother barely looked at me, and when she did, her eyes were hard, as if she resented me just for being there.
I didn’t understand why, not at first. But as I grew older, I started to understand the things she whispered to herself late at night, when she thought I was asleep. “If only I hadn’t gotten pregnant,” she’d say, her voice bitter, “my life wouldn’t be like this.” I didn’t like hearing those words, but deep down, I knew she blamed me for everything that had gone wrong in her life. My mother got pregnant with me out of wedlock, and my father didn’t want a baby. I don’t remember him; I’ve never even seen a picture of him. He left before I was born, long before I ever had a chance to meet him. I used to wonder if he thought about me, if he ever felt bad about leaving us. But I don’t think he did. To him, I was a mistake—something he wanted to erase, something he walked away from without looking back. It wasn’t just my father who abandoned us. My mother’s parents—the people who should’ve helped her—turned their backs on her, too. They said she’d brought shame to the family by getting pregnant without a husband. To them, I was proof of that shame. I was the child that shouldn’t have happened, and because of that, they acted like neither of us existed. My mother was all alone, and she had no one to rely on. So, we lived alone in a tiny apartment. It was dark and cramped, and everything inside was old and worn. The walls were thin, and we could hear our neighbors arguing or playing loud music late into the night. It was never a place that felt like home, not to me. Home should be warm, safe, and filled with love. But our apartment was just four walls that trapped us both inside. As I got older, I noticed the bills piling up. They were everywhere—on the table, the countertops, even stuffed into drawers. My mother would stare at them for hours, her face tight with worry. And whenever I asked her if something was wrong, she’d snap at me, telling me to mind my own business. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. Those bills were like a ticking clock, counting down to the moment when everything would fall apart. It didn’t help that I was there, just one more mouth to feed. I couldn’t do anything to help, and to my mother, that made me a burden. I’d hear her talking to herself sometimes, saying things like, “If I didn’t have to take care of her, I could get back on my feet.” She acted like everything that had gone wrong in her life was because of me, like I was the reason she couldn’t find happiness. I tried to stay out of her way as much as I could. I’d keep quiet, do my chores, and stay in my room. But nothing I did was ever enough to make her happy. If I tried to talk to her, she’d push me away. If I asked her to spend time with me, she’d roll her eyes, as if I were just a nuisance. She made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me, and over time, I stopped trying. One night, when I was lying in bed, I overheard her talking to someone on the phone. Her voice was low, but I could hear the desperation in it. “I can’t keep doing this,” she said. “I don’t have the money to take care of her.” There was a long pause, and then she added, “She’s useless to me. She’s only making things harder.” My heart sank. I had always known she didn’t love me, but hearing her say those words hurt in a way I couldn’t describe. I curled up under my thin blanket, trying to block out her voice, but the words kept echoing in my head. “Useless.” “A burden.” I’d heard those words before, but hearing her say them so clearly felt like a knife to my heart. The next morning, she barely looked at me. She seemed different, colder somehow, like she had already decided something and there was no going back. I wanted to ask her if something was wrong, but I was too afraid of what she might say. So, I stayed quiet and went about my day, hoping that whatever was bothering her would pass. But it didn’t. A few days later, she told me to get dressed. She said we were going somewhere important, but she wouldn’t tell me where. She just told me to hurry up, her voice sharp and impatient. I quickly put on my best dress—it was old and faded, but it was all I had. As we walked, I felt a strange sense of dread growing in my stomach. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good. We arrived at a large, dark building, and my mother led me inside without saying a word. The air was thick with the smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume, making me feel sick. A tall woman was waiting for us. She had a hard look in her eyes, and when she saw me, she sneered, as if she already knew everything about me. I didn’t like the way she looked at me—it made me feel small and worthless. “This is her?” the woman asked, looking at my mother. My mother nodded, barely glancing in my direction. The woman walked over to me, her eyes cold as she looked me up and down, like I was a piece of meat she was inspecting. “She’ll do,” the woman said, a cruel smile playing on her lips. She pulled out a stack of money and handed it to my mother, who took it without a second thought. My heart stopped as I realized what was happening. She was selling me, trading me away like an old, unwanted object. I looked at my mother, hoping she’d change her mind, hoping she’d look at me and realize what she was doing. But she didn’t even meet my eyes. She just took the money, turned around, and walked away. The door slammed behind her, and the sound echoed in my ears, final and unforgiving. I was alone. The woman’s voice snapped me out of my shock. “Follow me,” she ordered, and I had no choice but to obey. She led me down a dark hallway, the air thick with the smell of smoke and perfume. My heart was pounding, and I felt like I could barely breathe. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me, but I knew it wouldn’t be anything good. She took me to a small, bare room with a cold metal bed and a thin, tattered blanket. She told me to stay there and locked the door behind me. I sank down onto the bed, my mind spinning with fear and anger. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. My mother had sold me, just like that. She didn’t even hesitate. To her, I was just a burden she could finally get rid of. Sitting alone in that cold, dark room, I felt a wave of anger rise up inside me. I hated her for what she had done, for all the years she had made me feel worthless, for abandoning me like I was nothing. But that anger quickly turned to fear as I thought about what might come next. I didn’t know where I was or what these people wanted from me, but I knew I was trapped. For the first time in my life, I truly understood what it meant to be powerless. I was just a girl with no one to help her, no one who cared if she lived or died.The morning light streamed through Luna’s window, warming her face. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the sunlight. Her thoughts from the night before came rushing back, making her sit up in bed.She was free.The word felt strange in her mind. Free. No more cleaning, no more orders, no more fear of punishment. And Raphael… he had offered her a place in his home.Luna hugged her knees to her chest, thinking deeply. She had stayed up most of the night, weighing her options. Starting over sounded like a dream, but the thought of living with Raphael felt so personal, so new. Could she trust him?Her thoughts raced until she finally made a decision. I’ll do it. I’ll accept his offer.With her heart pounding, Luna got out of bed and dressed quickly. She smoothed her hair, her hands trembling slightly. Taking a deep breath, she left her room and walked down the quiet hallway toward Raphael’s door.When she reached it, she hesitated. Her hand hovered over the wood as her nerves got the
Luna sat on her bed, staring out the window. The soft evening light bathed the room in a golden glow, but her thoughts were far from peaceful. She wondered about Aurora, Damian, and even Raphael. Lately, everything seemed to be moving too fast.A knock on her door startled her. She quickly stood up, smoothing her dress. “Come in,” she said softly.Raphael stepped inside, a faint smile on his face. His presence filled the room instantly, making her feel both nervous and curious. “Luna,” he said, his tone calm but with purpose.“Yes, Mr. Raphael?” she replied, her voice polite.“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to her bed.She hesitated but did as he asked, folding her hands in her lap. He remained standing for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.“I just spoke with Damian,” he finally said.Her heart skipped a beat. “Is everything okay?” she asked quickly.“Yes,” Raphael assured her. “Actually, it’s more than okay. I have good news for you.”Luna tilted her head, her brows f
Raphael walked into Damian’s study, finding his brother seated behind his desk with a cup of coffee. Damian looked up, surprised to see Raphael approaching with a serious expression. He leaned back in his chair, setting the cup down.“Well, this is unexpected,” Damian said, gesturing for Raphael to sit. “What brings you here? You look like you have something on your mind.”Raphael didn’t sit. Instead, he stood near the desk, his hands in his pockets. “I need to talk to you about something important,” he said, his tone firm.Damian raised an eyebrow. “Go on. I’m listening.”Raphael hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I want you to free Luna,” he said directly, his eyes locked on Damian’s.Damian tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Free Luna?” he repeated, leaning forward slightly. “That’s a bold request. Why the sudden interest, Raphael?”“It’s not sudden,” Raphael said, his voice steady. “I’ve been watching her, and… she deserves better. She’s been through e
The hospital was quiet, with only the occasional sound of footsteps and the hum of machines breaking the silence. Mr. Taylor, a tall, imposing man with sharp features, walked through the white hallways with purpose. His tailored suit stood out among the casual attire of visitors and medical staff. His eyes scanned the numbers on the doors, searching for the one that matched the information he had received.He paused when he reached the right room, his heart pounding in his chest. His hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitating for the first time in years."This is it," he murmured to himself. "Aurora."He pushed the door open slowly, the sight inside taking his breath away. The room was dimly lit, with a single bed in the center. Aurora lay motionless, her pale face framed by soft, dark hair. Tubes and wires surrounded her, connecting her to machines that beeped rhythmically.Taylor stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.
Damian sat in the grand living room of the mansion, his eyes cold as he stared at the papers laid neatly on the table before him. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows didn’t make the moment any less bitter. He had been waiting for this day, but now that it was here, he felt nothing.Raphael sat nearby, watching his brother silently. He had always known Damian didn’t care for Lina, but even he could feel the tension in the room.A knock on the door broke the silence. One of the maids entered, bowing her head slightly. “Sir, Mrs. Wolfe is here.”Damian didn’t respond, only gesturing for the maid to let her in.Lina walked in, dressed elegantly as always, but her face showed nervousness. She clutched her handbag tightly, her steps hesitant. Seeing Damian’s cold stare made her feel small.“Damian,” she said softly, her voice shaking. “I… I think we should get this over with quickly.”“Sit,” Damian said, his tone flat.Lina sat across from him at the table, her hands trembling s
The night was cold, and Damian walked into the morgue slowly. The call about his father’s accident still played in his mind. His hands were shaking, but he forced himself to stay calm. He needed to see for himself if it was true.A coroner walked up to him, holding a clipboard. She looked at Damian with kind eyes. “Mr. Wolfe?” she asked softly.“Yes,” Damian said, his voice rough.“Please, follow me,” she said, leading him down a hallway.Damian’s steps were heavy, and his heart was beating fast. He wasn’t ready for this, but he had no choice.They stopped at a steel table with a white sheet covering the body. The coroner looked at Damian. “We found these at the scene,” she said, handing him a small plastic bag. Inside were his father’s watch, wallet, and cufflinks.Damian stared at the items for a moment. They felt small and meaningless now.The coroner gently pulled back the sheet, revealing Mr. Wolfe’s face. Damian took a step back, his breath catching in his throat. His father loo
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