The moment Masimo grabs my neck, I feel the panic surge through me. His grip is firm, just enough to hold me in place, but not to suffocate me. My heart races as he throws me onto the bed with a force that leaves me winded. He crawls toward me, each movement slow, deliberate, and filled with an animalistic intensity that terrifies me. I try to scramble away, but I hit the headboard, and there’s nowhere left to go.
I attempt to slide off the bed, but his hand snatches my wrist, yanking me back. The impact with the bed knocks the breath out of me, and before I can recover, he’s on top of me, his weight pinning my legs beneath him. His hand presses both my wrists above my head, and with the other, he traces the outline of my collarbone, his touch sending shivers down my spine.
“Wh...what the fuck are you doing? Get off me, you bastard!” I shout, but my voice wavers, betraying the fear pulsing through me.
Masimo’s eyes darken, the lust in them mingling with a hunger I’ve never seen before. “Let me show you what this man with a ‘small dick’ can do, Ian. It’ll be fun, you know. And I need to teach you how to speak to your elders...or rather, how to speak to your lawfully wedded husband.”
His hand slips under my shirt, his cold fingers making contact with my warm skin. My entire body jerks at the sensation, the unexpected pleasure twisting inside me. I hate that I’m reacting to his touch, that my body is betraying the fear and revulsion I feel.
I’ve been with men before, always the submissive one, but this...this is different. There’s something primal about the way he touches me, something that stirs a need deep within me that I didn’t know existed. His hand moves slowly up my body, stopping at my left nipple, and he circles it with his thumb before giving it a firm pinch. A wave of pleasure hits me so hard that a moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.
Humiliation floods through me, and I clamp my mouth shut, turning my face away, but he doesn’t let up. His hand continues to move, teasing, tormenting, until I’m squirming beneath him, desperate to escape the sensations that are overwhelming me.
His fingers reach the waistband of my pants, and I freeze, panic seizing me. This is too much. I can’t do this. Not with him. Not like this.
“Please,” I sob, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry. Please don’t touch me. I’ll behave, I swear, but please get off me.”
For a moment, I think I see something soften in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “Tears don’t work on me, pretty boy. You should have thought of this when you disrespected me. But I’ll consider it this time. Only this time. If you don’t behave, and even one curse word escapes that small mouth of yours, I’ll do more than what I did today, and your tears won’t help you then.”
His voice is commanding, his words a chilling promise. He slowly withdraws his hand, leaving my body tingling in the aftermath of his touch. I’m trembling, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but I manage to whisper, “Ian... It’s Ian.”
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His brows furrow in confusion, and I clarify, “Call me Ian, please.”
He smirks, releasing my wrists as he stands, the tension in the room easing just slightly. “Ian,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue before he leaves.
I lay there for what feels like an eternity, trying to calm my racing heart. The room is suffocating, the silence pressing down on me. I try to sleep, but it’s impossible, so I wander the room, pacing back and forth until exhaustion forces me to sit on the bed.
Hours pass, and I decide I need to get out. I can’t stay locked in this room, trapped in my thoughts. I approach the guards stationed outside the door, trying to reason with them.
“Please,” I say, “I just need to get out for a bit. I’m not going to run. I just need some air, something to do.”
They don’t even acknowledge me, their expressions blank. Frustration boils inside me, but I know there’s nothing I can do. I’m trapped.
When Masimo finally returns, I can’t hold back my anger. “Can’t I get out of this room? I know this is a forced marriage, and you think I might run away, but I won’t! We’re married now, and I have no interest in running. I’m a doctor. I need to be doing something, working, studying—anything other than sitting in this room all day! Can’t you at least get me some books if you’re going to lock me up?”
His gaze hardens, but there’s a glimmer of something else there too—maybe regret? “You’re only allowed to leave this room with me. Going out alone isn’t an option. As for the books, write down the names, and I’ll have my guards fetch them. I’ll try to come by more often so you don’t get bored, and if you want, I can get a TV in here.”
“Do you have a Netflix subscription? If not, get one. I love Netflix, and the series I love is available only there.”
To my surprise, he laughs—a deep, rumbling sound that catches me off guard. “Yes, I have a subscription. I’m not that old, Ian. You looked like an angry kitten with that scowl on your face.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I quickly change the subject. “Can I get my phone too? I won’t text anyone or tell anyone anything. We’re married now, and I’m not stupid. Please?”
I give him my best puppy-dog eyes, hoping to sway him, but he only shakes his head. “Ian, those eyes won’t work on me. I’m sorry, but I won’t give you your phone until you’ve earned my trust.”
With that, he leaves, and the room feels emptier than ever. The hours drag on, and I find myself staring out the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Dinner comes and goes, and I eat in silence, my mind too exhausted to think.
As night falls, I begin to wonder where Masimo sleeps. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I decide to sneak out of the room. I tiptoe past the sleeping guard, careful not to make a sound. But as I reach the stairs, a strong hand grabs my thigh, and before I can react, I’m hoisted onto someone’s shoulder—Masimo’s shoulder.
I scream in surprise, my fists pounding uselessly against his back as he carries me back to the room. He throws me onto the bed with a force that knocks the wind out of me, and I scramble to sit up, my heart pounding in my chest.
He opens the bedside drawer, and my blood runs cold as he pulls out a gun, pointing it directly at my face. My breath catches in my throat, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. This is it. This is how I die.
But as I look into his eyes, I see something I didn’t expect—disappointment. Why would he be disappointed? And then, I realize it isn’t just disappointment. There’s something else there, something darker, something that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Masimo,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Please...”
He doesn’t respond, his finger hovering over the trigger. I can’t move, can’t breathe. All I can do is stare at the gun, the cold metal glinting in the dim light, and wait for the inevitable.
My life is in his hands, and all I can think is, What the fuck have I done?