All Chapters of Married To A Sex Freak : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

​I hammered my fists uselessly against the hard muscle of his back, desperate for him to acknowledge my plea, to feel the shock of my resistance. But Collins did not flinch, he did not slow his stride, and he did not react to the sound. It was as if my voice, loud and frantic as it was, was swallowed by something that made him not hear my cry. Perhaps it was the sheer wall of his composure, or simply the brutal efficiency of his mind filtering out all resistance.​I was nothing but cargo.​The journey back to the suite was swift and terrifying. Every heavy, measured step he took was a countdown to a renewed punishment. I struggled, twisting my torso, trying to throw off his balance, but he held me with an effortless, unwavering strength. The coldness of his skin pressed into my exposed skin, an agonizing reminder of the state I was in.​My desperation grew, raw and frantic. If I try to stop him now, I would be sealed back in the crimson room, and the brief window of freedom would be

I looked at her in stark, mounting fear. Every instinct screamed that the warm, compassionate ally I knew was gone, replaced by this poised, dangerous stranger. The contrast between her immaculate, corporate fine green dress and the simmering malice in her golden eyes was dizzying.Then she leaned closer to me, her breath warm against my ear, and what she said washed me down—not with water, but with a torrent of agonizing, freezing realization.“You’ve been a fool all these while,” she whispered.Her voice was low, devoid of the familiar sweetness, and filled with a mocking contempt that lacerated my last vestige of hope. Her golden eyes—the same eyes that had always reflected back my distress with sympathy—were cold. As I stared into them, her pupils dilated immediately, not in fear, but in triumph, absorbing the spectacle of my collapse.She didn't stop there. She kept talking, the words dripping like venom, each one a calculated strike against my sanity. “You didn’t think I’d simp

My liberation lasted only seconds before the brutal reality slammed back in. I was on a strange street, barefoot, still reeling from the violence upstairs, and utterly exposed.I looked down at my bare foot, the rough asphalt stinging my sensitive soles. Despite the pain, my body felt light, buoyant with the euphoria of escape, and my feet couldn't stop walking me farther away from that house. The fear was momentarily eclipsed by the sweet, intoxicating taste of freedom. I felt I had nothing to worry about, now that I was free, and now that I had Sarah almost at my reach—even if I couldn't get any means of communicating with her yet.But the real world was a harsh contrast to the crimson prison. The hundreds of eyes that were drooling over me all through my walk were overwhelming. They weren't judging my clothes or my bare feet; they were dissecting the unusual sight of a woman in silk and denim, clearly distressed, moving through the streets. But regardless of that, I kept on with m

My weak eyes opened wider. The fog in my brain fought the light, but the urgency in Bryan's whisper was impossible to ignore. “My wife?” I asked. “What happened to her?” My breaths became unbearably faster now, shallow and panicked, and I just couldn't process anything anymore. I was too weak to fight back the drug that held me. All I could hear was a high-pitched sound, a relentless, whining drone in my ears, and my eyes began to give into the darkness that was struggling to invite me over.Then, after what seemed like an eternity, I heard my name echoed, gentle and familiar: “Collins?” The voice called out twice.My eyes fluttered open. The room was still hazy, but the voice solidified into a figure: it was a concerned Robert.My first words emerged as a dry, barely audible question: “What are you doing here?”​“Well, here I am... for you!” His voice cut through the heavy silence of the house, unnervingly amplified.​The sound, and the implication of his arrival, was a jolt of pure

Aliya's POV***The first thing after the initiated darkness was a suffocating, absolute blanket of it that still lingered, pressed against my eyes, thick as wet velvet. I woke to a hard, involuntary grin—a rictus of pain, every muscle in my body sour and protesting.​Then came the pain. My skull was a bell struck hard, the dull, relentless pounding echoing the frantic hammer-blows of my own heart. I tried to sit up, but a sickening lurch of dizziness sent me collapsing back. The floor was an insult: cold, unyielding concrete, its rough texture scraping a fresh line of agony across my cheek.​“Where am I?” The thought was a swirling vortex of confusion, fear, and the musty, suffocating odor of damp earth and decay clinging to my lungs. The only light was a faint, struggling flicker in the distance, casting long, distorted shadows that danced like mocking phantoms across the crumbling walls.​My memory was a puzzle with half the pieces missing. I grasped for fragments: the painful, t