33. Isabelle

33

ISABELLE

With a shaky hand, I put down the phone. Ebarardo's eyes narrowed on mine as I faced him. "She—she didn't mean it. It was a mistake."

"And yet she said it anyway."

I backed away, but I wasn't fast enough. "Please?—"

He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to him. I could feel his fingers bruising my skin, his nails breaking through the surface. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to control my breathing. I'd been through enough of these to know there was no escaping him when he felt like taking out his anger on me.

"Please? Are you begging me?"

I swallowed hard, knowing what begging would accomplish. But it was the only way to get out of the punishment that was sure to follow if I didn't. With a shaky nod, he pushed me to my knees.

"Then beg."

"Ebarardo, please don't be upset with my mother. It was a slip of the tongue. You know she was only making conversation."

His eyes darkened. "This doesn't sound much like begging."

I slid my shaky hand up his leg, desperately hoping to please him enough to stay the punishment that would inevitably follow if I failed. "I will do anything to please you. Anything at all."

His eyes darkened, making me shiver with the knowledge of what was to come. "Take me out."

I had done this many times over the years, but the threat of possible punishment had me eagerly unzipping his pants and taking out his already hard length. If I didn't do everything just as he wanted, I would end up so bruised I wouldn't be able to walk for a week. Even after all this time, I still couldn't find pleasure in anything he did to me. I tried and failed, and he knew it, which only angered him and turned him on at the same time.

He liked my pain. The knowledge that he had so much control over me was a thrill for him. I tried to enjoy it. I sometimes pleasured myself when I knew he would be coming for me, but I hadn't had much experience before he forced me to be his wife. The good times were clouded by the bad. I had nothing to fall back on to visualize the pleasure. And my own touch did little to help when all I felt was disgust.

Stroking him, I looked up into his eyes just as he wanted.

"Open your mouth."

I did as he asked, but knew better than to take him without him telling me.

"Stick out your tongue."

Again, I did as he asked, tightening my fist around his length.

The sudden intrusion as he thrust inside my mouth had me gagging and nearly vomiting, but I swallowed it down. The last time I threw up on him, I had to take an ice bath to soothe my wounded behind.

My hand slipped from his cock as he fucked my mouth hard. I gripped his hips, holding on as best I could. Tears streamed down my face as he used me. I hoped and prayed it would end with him coming in my mouth. But when he suddenly stopped and pulled out, that dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach swarmed with full force.

I knew what was coming.

He yanked me off my feet and spun me around, bending me over the bed harshly. The first time he told me to call my mother in the bedroom, I thought it would be for privacy. Afterward, I realized it was so he could control me and take out his anger on me when the call was over.

A burst of cool air swept over my backside as he lifted my dress and yanked down my underwear. I squeezed my eyes closed, praying it would end quickly, though it never did. I felt his chest press to my back and his hot breath tickle my ear.

"Tell me again just how much you want to please me."

My lips quivered as I whispered, "Please, take what you need."

He gripped my hair hard and yanked my head back. "What I need?"

"What you want," I corrected. "Anything you want."

His fist tightened around my hair because of the mistake. My fingers curled in the blanket on the bed, holding on as I felt his cock at my backside. It was going to hurt even more this time. Wording was everything with him, and I just made a critical error.

Pain tore through me as he entered me in one hard thrust. I bit my lip, trying not to make a sound. My body stretched around him and I felt the tearing that I knew would take too long to heal. My body jerked as he used me, but I kept quiet, repeating his words in my head.

It's not about what he needs. It's what he wants. His pleasure is all that matters.

I knew better. I shouldn't have let that slip ever occur, but I was rattled after my phone call with my mother. If he hurt her, I would never forgive myself. And his decision was based on a random whim of the day.

There was no predicting my husband or what would set him off most days. I only knew how to watch what I said when he decided I had done something wrong and he took it out on me.

I heard his grunts of displeasure and started to panic. I didn't know how to make this better for him. The pain and burning intensified until I couldn't handle it anymore. I cried out as I gripped the sheet tighter. My knuckles were white and cramped, but I held on.

His low chuckle made my eyes fly open, and then I realized why he had been upset. He leaned over me again, yanking my head back.

"Your tears make me hard, my love. Cry for me."

Fear spiked when he stopped suddenly. I heard a drawer open and wanted to turn, but that would only get me in trouble. I swallowed down the bile as I felt something prod my vagina. He pushed and I cried out. It was way too big. Whatever it was, this was not even close to pleasant. Once it was settled inside me, I felt him at my back entrance again.

"No," I whimpered, knowing it would be too much to take.

"You said to take what I wanted. Do you want to please me?"

My whole body trembled as I whispered, "Yes."

I tried to imagine anything other than what happened next. It was a blur of tears and crying so hard I couldn't breathe. I could have sworn I heard him laughing as he tormented me. I wanted nothing more than to escape this horrible reality, but the only way out was death, and I was watched too closely to ever make that a reality.

When the pain finally subsided, I collapsed to the ground, staring off at the underside of the bed. It was over, but for how much longer? This would be my life forever unless I found a way to stop it.

And then I remembered my mother's words. Someone was coming. The name Max didn't mean anything to me, but there was someone else here who might understand her meaning. I had to get a message to him. As terrified as I was, I would do anything to escape this place, or I would die trying.