Page 60 of Isabela

Forcing the words from my mouth, I say, “I promise, Sir.”

The words feel dirty, nothing like when I say them to Gael. My soul feels stained with every small allowance I make in the name of survival. Charles wants to pull the strings in this room, force me to make decisions I never would otherwise, and that’s just another way he plans to break me.

Because I’m choosing this out of a million impossible scenarios.

“Good girl,” he growls, making me whimper. My body bows against the harsh rope, wishing I could run from those words. Charles thinks I’m turned on, and instead ghosts the hand, not holding the knife, over my cool skin. His fingers pinch and hurt me, making my eyes flood with tears.

“That’s it, I just wanted to see how you’ll look when I’m fucking your throat. So very pretty.”

His thumb smears my tears over my skin, smiling as if I pleased him in some way. I tell myself to breathe, even as the soreness in my face reminds me of the punishment I’ll face if I hold my breath again.

As he moves to cut the first rope from my wrist, I hold very still, grateful he cuts the rope completely off, so he can’t tie my hands behind my back. A part of him wants to pretend I want this, or that I can be manipulated into enjoying it.

“Remember, I don’t need you whole to enjoy you,” he murmurs, circling the flat of his knife around my nipple. “Don’t forget to breathe, dear. I think I may have bruised your face a bit.”

I can hear the irony in his words as he reaches over and cuts off the other rope binding my wrist to the bed. I lay still, making sure Charles can see the rise and fall of my chest as he moves down to my legs to cut me loose.

“Come now,” he chuckles. “Show me what a good girl you’re going to be for me.”

The words ‘good girl’ are ruined for me now. A tear rolls down my face for the end of my small foray into sexual expression.

It was fun while it lasted.

Taking a shuddering breath, I sit up, my fingers fisting the sheets as the world tilts. If I ever see Lily again, I’m going to make her scream for me.

Small breaths are the only thing keeping me from puking as my stomach rolls, and I swallow hard as I scoot my body to the edge of the bed.

“I want to see your pussy before you come down here,” Charles says softly. His cock is still standing proudly as he fists it. I’m struggling to keep it together, it’s too hard to fight his words, so I spread my thighs wide for him. “Touch yourself.”

His words make me shudder. I think of Gael whispering in my ear as I drag my fingers over myself. I’m bone dry, and my clit still throbs from when he hit it. I remember my shower with Aria and Gael as I beg my body to make a shred of lubrication, but I can’t do it. Instead, it just hurts, but I pretend for my current audience.

“Mmm, I can’t wait to make you scream when I fuck your tight cunt for the first time. If your virginity doesn’t stain my cock, I’ll be very unhappy, is that understood?” he asks.

I can’t suppress the revulsion that rolls over me, though I force my face not to show it. Charles has the knife at his side as he snaps his fingers as if calling a dog, pointing to the spot between his legs.

Dropping to my knees, because my muscles won’t support me, I crawl to him.

The shame claws at me as I do, but I remind myself that I just need to get to his knife. I’ll do anything for my freedom. Anything. I just don’t know how I’ll live with it afterwards.

Charles tangles his fingers in my hair as he pulls me closer to his shaft. The tip is purple and angry, seeming almost as if it has its own pulse. His other hand is holding the base of the blade.

Even though I make sure not to be obvious that I’m tracking his knife hand, his fingers fist in my hair, yanking my head back.

My cry makes his cock twitch and he hisses as if in pain. “I need to come so damn badly, and you’re going to make that happen,” he says. The blade of the knife touches my neck, forcing me to inhale in terror.

“You will not use your teeth, either. Don’t force me to kill you and fuck you as your body spasms in death. I’ll pretend you love every moment like the slut you are.”

One moment I’m a slut, and the other I’m a good little virgin. Charles is delusional and an asshole. No wonder his wife won’t fuck him anymore.

I have no time to prepare myself as he drops the knife beside himself to grip my jaw. I can’t close it due to the pressure on it, and I scream as he forces his cock into my mouth.

“So warm and wet,” he grunts. “Don’t be dramatic, it’s just a cock. Suck on it, girl.”

I can’t do anything else but as he demands. My fingers twitch as he forces himself down my throat, and I gag, shuddering as I almost puke.

“You will not ruin this by throwing up on me. Suck, Goddamn you!” he roars.

Time has no meaning as I inch my hand up the leg of the chair until my fingers touch the cold steel of the knife. Charles is grunting, lost in the sensations of what he’s forcing me to do, and I’m focusing on cutting off his dick.

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