Page 6 of Signed For Him

He watches me as he chews his food. The food I made, like the perfectly capable housewife he wants me to be. So I do, I act amazingly. I'd never been interested in drama or the theatre classes in school, but my gosh, have I put on the largest and most deceitful act of my life since being in his presence. If being what he wants me to be allows me to be hurt only by him then I can cope with that. I would prefer to be hurt by only him, even over and over again, than to be tortured and tormented by the animals I have caught glances and whispers of in the hallways.

Gray has told me of the barbaric things that go on outside of the confines of Liam’s apartment, and as much as I hate being a prisoner and hurt by him, it is preferable than being treated even worse by those outside the door that holds me here.

"I'm not sure you seeing him so regularly is a good thing. He acts out after he's seen you, and you give me more attitude too. I'm not sure I like it," he tells me, his lips lifting into a smirk that he knows will goad me. He does this on purpose - tries to antagonise me so that I say something he doesn't like or act aggressively and then enjoys punishing me for it.

Five hours and he won't be in charge of me anymore. I just need to make sure he doesn't know that.

Despite my initial reservations about giving in to him, I knew I had to. It was the only way to live here. I spent my first few days out of the hospital in this apartment with him, with the occasional visit from Gray when he was allowed to see me. I also spent the first few days telling Liam exactly what I thought in between my crying fits and outbursts of anger - until he snapped. I had since decided that I would be smart. Wise. Use the brain that my father had raised me with and be exactly what Liam wanted until I found a way to get myself and Gray away from here.

The strong, independent and stubborn part of me hated it but it was the safest way to live.

I had just about given up on the hope of being rescued. I had no doubt in my mind that my father, Crow, Victor, and both clubs would have been looking for me, but wherever I am must be far enough away and so far off the radar that they can't find me, or else I wouldn't still be in this hellhole. Assuming that Gray’s plan works though, I can be out of here tonight.

"What if I promise to be good? And I'll make sure that Gray doesn't act out anymore either. You know how hard I've been trying," I insist as I look at him once more, masking the frustration and anger I wish I could unleash without consequence.

Liam hums for a moment, twisting his fork over and over in his hand before placing it down on his plate and looking at me with a triumphant grin.

"I tell you what, how about we go to the bedroom and if you're a good girl, I'll let Gray come and see you later when I go to work." I can feel the bile rising up my throat, but I fight to hold it down.

I thought the pain would be the worst form of torture he would put me through while being in this cage, but I was wrong. So wrong. Within hours of returning from the hospital room after his first beating of me, he insisted that I kiss him. To show him how sorry I was. Within a week, he insisted that I hug him, to show my care and gratitude. A few days later, he whipped me, making me promise to always call him Daddy or Master when he forced himself inside of or on top of me. As if my body hadn't been through enough. As if my mind could handle anymore forms of torture. I didn't always give in to begin with. I fought. Hard - and ended up once again covered in bruises and cuts. So now I do give in.

I'm not someone that enjoys pain, or someone that is good with pain. I remember hearing stories from the Cobras wives about how well they had handled the pain in childbirth, how high their pain threshold was. Mine is not. I am terrible with pain and I can't claim otherwise. Between the mental and physical torture of being here, the forced orgasms are the better option.

Liam stands from his chair, the scraping of the wooden chair on the tiled floor sending shivers through me as he tucks it back in and begins his walk to me, his hand out, waiting for mine to be placed over top of his.

Five hours and this won't be my life anymore.

I lift my unsteady body up and place my hand in his calloused one, feeling revolted at even our hands touching - in part because I’m not at all revolted. His warmth and his soft touches do things to my body that I despise.

I always used to think holding hands was such a romantic gesture and now the only thing romantic about my life is the overwhelming sadness when I wake from a dream filled with Crow.

I close my eyes, willing away any thoughts of him or anyone else outside of this place, knowing it will only make this next part harder as he pulls me along to the bedroom.

So much of why I hate it is because I don't. I don't hate it at all and that guts me more than anything else. The first few times I pleasured him, I ran to the bathroom to be sick as soon as he left, but the longer it goes on, the more I've learned how to push the right buttons with him, how to get my way without him knowing that I'm doing it.

I've learnt a lot - one of the newest things I've learnt is that Liam is very capable sexually. Although I would much prefer I didn't have to do it, to give in to him, the fact that he insists on making me have an orgasm daily kills me because every single time, it makes me feel like I am losing my sanity. Losing my sanity because my body adores his touch while my mind will do anything to get rid of it. And the longer I'm away from Victor and Crow, the more I start to wonder if it might be easier to let the submissive, vulnerable, darker side of me learn to care for Liam. But now Gray has a plan.

Five hours.

I feel like my whole mindset is altering every day, every time he touches me or becomes tender with me.

"Strip for me, baby girl. Let me see what's mine," he whispers in my ear as we enter his bedroom.

I waste no time, immediately taking off the dress covering my body and placing it on the nightstand on my side of the bed. I'm left with a slight chill, wearing only my bra and underwear. Ones that Liam picked out, of course. I keep my eyes downcast, gazing at the cream carpet - just how he likes it.

"Now get on your knees, baby. Show your master how good you can be," he demands, the lust already filling his voice, thickening it if possible.

I take a step closer to him and fall to my knees, waiting while he strips himself of the clothes he's wearing.

It's so strange to be in such a fucked up routine. To know what I'm meant to do and yet somehow, knowing gives me comfort. I know what I can and can't do now. I know what makes him angry. I know what pleases him and until the moment I'm out of this place, pleasing him keeps me from being hurt. Pleasing him pleases me in the most screwed up way. The sounds he makes when I turn him on fuels me to do it even more.

His length bobs in front of me, already fully erect as his hands grasp my hair, forcing my head forward until his length takes residence inside of my mouth.

I move my head rhythmically back and forth, sucking and licking at the muscle in my mouth as Liam rocks his hips into me further. His moans fill the air around me. My eyes water incessantly as he pushes his cock to the back of my throat, choking me on it.

"You're such a good girl, aren't you?" he asks as he juts forward once more before pulling his cock from my mouth, signalling for me to move to the bed.

I lay on my back on the bed, exactly as he likes, as he stands at the base and watches me with a smile on his face.

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