Page 6 of Gambit
“Make me.” The challenge leaves my lips. Bold and reckless, maybe, but it shifts his weight and draws his focus, and that’s what I need. Any slip, any falter from him, could be my opening.
“Strong words for someone in your position,” he says. He senses my defiance, my refusal to break, and it infuriates him.
“Position is everything,” I reply.
He grins, that vile expression on his face as if he’s won some twisted prize. Reaching over, he tugs on my nipples, drawing them into stiff peaks before he twists them painfully, drawing a sharp breath from my lips.
“This is how they played with her, you know? And now, it’s your turn. They can feel how it burns to see the woman you love with someone else.”
I bite back a scream, refusing him the satisfaction. My mind shrieks for retribution, for the moment when I can make him pay.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I rasp out, each word a defiance. I want him angry and unthinking because anger makes you stupid, and stupid men make mistakes, especially ones thinking with their cock. I sneer as he unzips his pants and drags out apencil dick that leaves no room for doubt about why his wife decided the twins were a better option.
He grips his cock tightly and starts to pump furiously, eyes fixed on me. Disgust ripples through me, but I don’t let it show. No fucking way will he see me flinch.
“Enjoying yourself?” I taunt. “Your wife must’ve been desperate for some proper cock.”
His face contorts with rage, the veins in his neck bulging as he jerks himself off harder. “You’re going to pay for your fucking mouth,” he snarls.
“Big talk for a man compensating with violence because he can’t satisfy a woman,” I snap back, my own rage a living thing inside me now.
His grunts fill the room as his pace quickens. He shoots his load over my tits in a pathetic attempt to assert dominance. He’s panting, sweating, looking down at me with what might be satisfaction.
But this isn’t over—not by a long shot.
I catch my breath, biding my time as he steps back and tucks himself away with shaking hands. The zip ties dig into my skin, but I hardly feel them now. I’m focused on the door, the window—any chance of escape before this escalates to something I can’t stop with my hands zip-tied behind me. For now, I feel he won’t rape me because he doesn’t want to be unfaithful to his wife, wherever the fuck she is, but that won’t last.
Professor Franks sneers, leaning over to smear his cum all over my nipples and tits and down over my stomach. “I want you covered in my cum when they come for you,” he murmurs, close to my ear.
“Pathetic,” I manage to say, locking eyes with him, letting him see the contempt, the rage. “You think this breaks me? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
He doesn’t know, or he doesn’t care. But he definitely doesn’t understand the fire he’s stoking, the inferno he’s building in my soul.
Franks steps back, his chest rising and falling as he looks at me, satisfaction etched into the lines of his face. But it’s a hollow victory, and we both know it. He’s unleashed something in me that can’t be contained, a burning need to tear him down piece by piece.
I take a shallow breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. My body aches, the ties around my wrists biting into my flesh, but my spirit is unbreakable. These bruises, this filth he’s left on me, they’re nothing but fuel for the firestorm that’s coming.
“You think because of your family name, you’re untouchable?”
I laugh, short and sharp, the sound echoing off the cottage walls. “No. I know I’m untouchable because I’ve made myself that way. You think drugging me and tying me up means you’ve won? Your days are numbered, Franks.”
“Empty threats won’t save you,” he sneers.
“Who said anything about saving me?” I retort. “This is about destroying you.”
He turns away, his shoulders tense, but I see the uncertainty. He’s realised his mistake, but there’s no turning back now. Not for him, and certainly not for me.
As he steps out of the room, locking the door behind him, I shift on the bed, testing the strength of my restraints. They’re tight but not impenetrable. Nothing ever is.
Hughes don’t break.
My mind races through every lesson, every strategy I’ve learned. Escape isn’t just an option—it’s a certainty.
4
JAMES
Answeringthe video call with a tap on the screen, Dad’s face fills the display. Before I even get a greeting out, he’s off to the races.
