I always thought I had control. I believed I could resist temptation, that my mind was stronger than my desires. But I was wrong.
I am startled by the gentle tracing of his finger along my throat. A shiver runs through me, a mix of fear and anticipation.
He leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against my neck, his voice a seductive whisper “I think I’m actually going to enjoy this.”
Then, just as suddenly, he steps away. “I have preparations to make,” he says, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The room is quiet, the air thick with unspoken promises. Sleep creeps in, stealing me away from the reality I refuse to face.
When I wake, regret hits me before my eyes even open. His hand is around my throat, firm, unyielding. “You will learn respect,” he growls, tightening his grip as I struggle for breath.
My feeble attempt at humor only makes things worse, and my vision blurs just before he lets go.
Darkness. Restraints. The blindfold presses against my skin, disorienting me further. And then it all floods back, I am here because I was sold.
My brother auctioned me off like a possession, a mere sex slave, a reminder of the powerlessness of women in this world.
Somewhere deep inside, I know I should fight. I know I should resist. But when his touch returns, igniting something dangerous within me, I realize the truth, some cravings are meant to be denied.
Others? They consume you whole.
