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Dance for me.
A command, not a request.
So I stood up and did as I was commanded.
I danced.
I danced for the Devil.
I danced until my heart bled and I was left with nothing—just emptiness.
The collar felt heavy around my neck, suffocating me. I wore his jewels while dancing for him.
My body moved fluidly and with poise. Even without years of practice, the elegance of dancing didn’t leave me.
Dancing used to be my art—an awe-inspiring art. A graceful and exquisite art. A beauty in the eye of the beholder. But as a dancer, I would feel its beauty too.
Every step I took, I felt it. I imagined it. I saw it.
But in this moment, my dancing wasn’t an art.
I was dancing for seduction. I was dancing to seduce my husband. A temptress in the eyes of the man in front of me.
I was the seductress, and I played my part.
Valentin devoured me with his eyes, snickering, and I could almost imagine him growling as I moved my body for him.
I felt sickened, my naked body flushed with embarrassment and disgust.
The tears fell down my cheeks, my body growing weaker, my head becoming heavier. Humiliated and degraded to the core, I closed my eyes.
In my head, I imagined Viktor. I imagined being a soundless siren to only Viktor.
I danced.
But now, I was dancing for him.
I could see his beautiful smile and his dark brown eyes glowing with adoration as he stared at me dancing.
My body moved easily, and I twirled. I twirled and twirled and twirled.
I forgot the collar. I forgot Valentin.
Instead, I floated away in my fantasyland to Viktor.
And I smiled.
Another tear dripped down my cheek, but I laughed silently, dancing and moving around the room with the same grace.
But now…for a small moment, I was happy. I could be happy with Viktor. My Viktor.
My hero in the world of villains.
I was breathless, high on an euphoric feeling—and then I crashed again.
Hitting the wall of a hard body, I stopped. My dream ended. My dance halted. And I was back in the present.
My eyes fluttered opened, and I silently gasped for breath. My cheeks felt heated and flushed—my whole body was warm.
But then I met the eyes of my husband. The coldness seeped into my body again.
“You dance so beautifully,” he said. “A fucking seductress, making me so hard watching this naked body move around.”
I trembled in his arms, but he held on tight. “Does it make your pussy wet to dance for me like this?”
NO! I mentally screamed and thrashed.
His hand moved down my body and pushed my legs open. His thigh moved in between, stopping me from closing them.
With his gaze still on mine, he thrust a finger inside me. Hard.
My lips parted, and I screamed. Silently.
My body shuddered and my stomach churned when he pushed in another finger. I wasn’t wet like he thought. The intrusion was painful, and it hurt so much. Too much for me to bear.
He thrust his fingers in and out, not caring that I wasn’t responding to his touches.
It appeared like he was tsking at me. “Scream for me, Valeria.”
No. I won’t scream. I will never scream.
Silence. I continued to give him silence. And I would forever give him silence.
A third finger entered me. He tortured me ruthlessly.
“Scream for me!” he thundered. My ears picked up his words, faintly, only because his voice was louder than usual.
I pressed my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
My inside was being ruined, bruised, and injured. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry out.
Briefly, I wondered why he wasn’t giving me the drugs. Why not play with my senses and make me come using the drugs?
But then, that would have been too easy. He wanted to hurt me.
His fingers left me, and my eyes widened, feeling the relief for only a brief second. Valentin dragged me by the hair, and he pushed me on the bed.
With my front on the bed, my legs dangling down and my ass pushed toward him, he mounted me like an animal.
He slammed into me without warning.
My breath left me, and I pushed my face into the mattress, my lips opening to silently scream and scream.
Valentin was rough, and I could feel blood dripping down between my legs. His fingers wrapped around my upper throat, and he squeezed.
I clawed at the mattress, begging for an escape. Begging for relief.
It hurt so much, my insides burning and being cut open, bleeding. My whole body was aching, hurting too much to move. He thrust painfully inside me.
With tears swimming in my eyes, I choked back a loud sob. My chin wobbled with the effort to keep myself from crying.
I didn’t have the strength to fight him. But I never fought him. I let him do whatever he wanted. I always let him.
The tears fell, wetting the mattress until it was soaked where my face pressed against it.
