Page 4 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“It’s the truth.”

The backhand comes so fast, I cry out in shock. His slap splits my lip open, and stars burst behind my eyes from the sheer strength of it.

“Another lie.”

Licking the hot flow of blood from my lip to buy some time, I try to clear the haze fogging my brain. He isn’t my first monster. I won’t survive this if I don’t play along.

“Sixteen, Mr Sanchez.”

“That’s the truth?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. I’ll have no lies, Willow.”

“Sorry, Mr Sanchez.”

“If you’re to be mine, then you will learn some discipline and respect. I won’t have some careless slut walking around my home, understand?”

“Your home?” I dare to whisper.

Lips spreading into a satisfied grin, Mr Sanchez pops a few of his shirt buttons, exposing the dark hair smattering across his chest that covers swirling tattoos.

I can see the bulge of his growing erection through his grey suit trousers. It’s so obvious, near bursting out with anticipation. He cups it and squeezes, his lips parted on a sigh.

“I haven’t purchased you for the night, my love. I just want a trial run before I commit, you see. Then you’ll be coming with me and leaving this filth behind.”

“I don’t understand.”

With a snarl, he rips my flimsy bikini top in one cruel move. It hits the floor, leaving my small, growing breasts on full display. When I try to cover them, he hits me again.

Mr Sanchez licks his lips and stares at my slumped form with hunger. Dizzy from pain, I’ve collapsed back on the bed in a lifeless, compliant heap.

He laughs, unzipping his fly to free his dick. “I want to hear how good your screams are. I’ll want to hear them every day when we’re married.”

Married?

Every day?

Too petrified to move a muscle, I silently beg for someone to come and rescue me. He climbs on top of me and pins my wrists above my head, preventing my escape.

“P-Please, let m-me go!”

“That’s it,” he praises. “Beg me louder.”

“Please… you c-can’t do this.”

Two fingers wrap around my nipple, and he twists so hard that agony races across my chest. His disgustingly hard length is rocking against me, inching ever closer.

“Keep it coming now.”

He hits me again, and the hard punch to my jaw steals any remaining defiance inside me. Limp and sobbing freely, I realise my mistake. I trusted Mario, against my own instincts.

I thought that I was adult enough to navigate this place, and I was wrong. I’ve waded into the danger zone and been snapped up by a ravenous predator.

Leaning closer, his tongue scrapes up the side of my cheek, lapping up my fast-flowing tears. His mouth travels lower, over my shuddering chest, so he can rip the rest of my clothes off.

“Legs open, Willow. Let me see you.”

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