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It feels like he’s awakened some desire in me that I didn’t know I had. Something dark and wicked that makes me wonder how I could want something like that, as if it was always inside of me somewhere deep down, waiting for a man like Viktor, brutal, handsome, and dominant, to come along and wake it up.
I look over at the door where it’s been splintered, the knob and latch broken, and I remember how I’d felt when I’d heard him kicking it down. I’d been more terrified than I ever had in my entire life—but at the same time, I’d felt a sort of fearful lust that I’d never known I could experience. At that moment, I’d known he was coming for me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I hadn’t known what he had planned, exactly, but a part of me had hoped that it would involve him inside of me, fucking me the way he had on our wedding night.
I’m not supposed to want him.It makes me feel as if there’s something broken inside of me, something that makes me crave things I shouldn’t, want things that should make me ashamed of myself. And I am deeply ashamed of so many things. The way he made me respond on our wedding night, the night of the concert when I let him kiss me and kissed him back in return, the way I handled the situation at his office, the way I can still feel the pulse between my legs every time I shift my weight and feel the sting of the marks on my ass.
It feels as if my life has been turned upside down since the day I said “I do” to Viktor. And with every day that passes, it feels like it’s spinning more and more out of control.
But I don’t see how I have any choice other than to go back.
There’s a tiny part of me that whispers, as I walk towards the broken door, that deep down, Iwantto go back.
That I want to know how this will all play out to the bitter end.
That I can’t run away now.
Viktor is nowhere to be seen when I get back to the house. I took another Uber, knowing better than to call and try to get the driver to come for me. I’m left at the driveway of a house that’s supposed to be half mine now, but after being back at my own home, it’s never felt less like it belongs to me in any way.
But I’m here nonetheless, and I need to make the best of it.
Whatever that currently means.
Olga is talking to Sasha near the foot of the stairs when I walk in, and she gives me a look so ugly that I know Viktor must have told her what happened with Anika and Yelena. A flush of shame washes over me, and I look away, unable to meet her eyes. I can feel Sasha’s nervous gaze on me, and I wonder all over again how she ended up here. What plans Viktor has for her.
I should have gone alone. I wish I had, now. I can’t stand the idea that anyone would think I’d actually harm the girls. If there’s one good thing about this entire fucked-up marriage, it’s my two stepdaughters. But I don’t know how to even go about helping to raise them or protect them when their father does such terrible things—let alone my own child.
I go into one of the guest rooms to lie down, past caring what anyone in the house thinks. If Viktor has allowed my fall from his good graces to spread by telling Olga about the children—or maybe she figured it out on her own—then it doesn’t matter anymore. And frankly, I don’t care. What else can he do to me that he hasn’t already?
I’m sure there’s something. But the fact that I’m lying on my stomach to protect my sore and bruised ass makes me feel very differently.
Exhaustion overwhelms me, and I fall asleep again.
* * *
I’m notsure how long I sleep for, exactly. Long enough that it’s dark outside, the house is quiet, and my mouth feels sticky and dry, my eyes are swollen from too much crying. A quick glance at my phone tells me that it’s nearly midnight, well after most of the house has gone to sleep, including Viktor.
A small, rebellious part of me wants to stay in the guest room tonight. He’s going to demand that I fuck him, probably sooner rather than later, so my first thought is that he ought to concede that I don’t actually have to sleep beside him as well.
But I think my days of Viktor making concessions for me are over. And I don’t want a repeat of today’s punishment so soon, just because I didn’t want to sleep next to him in bed.
I slowly get out of bed, feeling stiff and slow, and walk to the adjoining bathroom to splash some water on my face. With any luck, he’ll be asleep when I go to our room, and I don’t want to wake him up by going into the bathroom in there.
Looking in the mirror feels like a shock. My face is paler than usual, my eyes swollen and red-rimmed, and the cold water on my face helps a little, but not much.Why do you even care?I ask myself as I toss the washcloth in the hamper, running my fingers through my hair so that it’s less of a rat’s nest. It’s not like I need to impress him. He’s already married me, and he’s going to fuck me one way or another. Some reddened eyes and tangled hair aren’t going to dissuade him.
The house is dark when I step out into the hall, and I creep down towards our bedroom, walking softly in an effort to make it there without waking anyone up, especially Viktor. I manage to push the door open almost silently, and it’s then that I catch the glow of his bedside light still on.
But it’s not the only thing I see and not the thing that makes me stop in my tracks, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest.
Viktor is lying on his back, shirtless, his pajama pants unbuttoned, his head thrown back as his hand grips his thick, hard cock, stroking it feverishly as he groans, low and deep in his throat with pleasure.
A rush of arousal like I’ve never felt washes over me as I stare at him, fascinated. I’ve never seen a man masturbate before. Something about the way Viktor looks in this moment, his jaw tense and neck muscles straining, back slightly arched, forearm flexing as he grips his thick length, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I stand there in the doorway, frozen as I watch him rub his thumb over the swollen head, glistening with his arousal as he strokes it down the shaft, squeezing and slowing his movements as his hand flexes around his cock, another groan of pleasure slipping from his lips.
I don’t know how long I stand there, watching him pleasure himself, feeling the steadily growing wetness between my thighs at the sight. It’s pornographic in its intensity, watching the handsome man on the bed stroke himself closer and closer to climax. Part of me wants to join him, while another part wants to flee back to the dark safety of the guest room.
And while I’m standing there frozen with indecision, Viktor opens his eyes.
It’s impossible for him not to see me standing there. I’m in the middle of the doorway, staring. A cruel smile curves his lips as he stops stroking, holding his rigid cock as he teases the head with his thumb and lets his gaze rake over me, lust plain in his eyes.
“Come here,” he says simply, the order clear in his voice.
