•••
"She was his weakness. So he broke her, slowly, gently and exactly the way she craved."
•••
Before she could gather her courage again, she whispered breathlessly, “Pl...please open,”
But he was already there, silencing her with the gentle press of a single finger against her lips.
“Shh… Watch it,” he warned, voice low, velvet threaded with steel.
Her breath caught in her throat.
His touch was not cruel, but commanding. She swallowed, her throat dry, skin prickling with heat. Her heart pounded so violently she feared he might hear it.
This man, her husband, was impossible.
He made her feel like she was always standing on a knife's edge. Between fury and surrender. Between running and falling. Between hating him, and needing him more than air.
And still… she didn’t move.
Not because she trusted him.
Not because she had forgiven him.
But because something in her, some unspoken, trembling part, longed to stay dangerously close to the fire that threatened to consume her.
She didn’t realize what he intended until he sat back and pulled the laptop onto his thighs. His arm remained wrapped around her middle, keeping her seated squarely on his lap, her hands now pinned behind her back, bound with his own silk tie.
With a single key pressed, the video began to play.
Two hours.
Two hours of surveillance footage.
She didn’t understand at first. Her breath was shaky, her eyes darting between the screen and his unreadable expression.
And then, every thirty minutes, he began removing a piece of her jewelry.
First, her earrings, gently tugged from her earlobes, the shimmering diamonds replaced by the warmth of his fingers.
Then, her dainty pendant, unclasped from behind, his knuckles brushing the base of her throat.
Her bangles followed, one by one sliding down her arms, each removed with lingering touches that sent waves of heat curling through her belly.
And somewhere past the first hour, when her breathing had grown shallow, when confusion mixed with dread, he reached under her dress, and with a sharp, practiced motion, tore the clasp of her bra loose.
She gasped softly.
She didn’t ask him to stop.
She didn’t need to tell him to.
Her dress still hung on her frame, but barely. Her body trembled as he adjusted her on his lap, the fabric of her loosened bra no longer supporting her, merely clinging to her skin by memory alone.
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𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬
Storie d'amore••• "Just because I haven't touched you as a husband should, that doesn't mean I won't," he said, his voice low and menacing. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't dare move from where she stood, his presence overwhelming her completely. She could b...
