I blinked my eyes open, a throbbing ache pulsing through my skull. My mind was a foggy mess, fragments of memory slipping away like smoke.

  What the hell happened? A sharp voice cut through the haze.

  "Are you fucking serious? Did you really get... goddamn it," Elena snapped, her tone dripping with disgust. I looked up, meeting her icy stare.

  Her eyes bore into me, pinning me like I was some kind of vermin. That's when I noticed the cold air on my skin—my pants and underwear were bunched around my ankles.

  A wave of embarrassment crashed over me as I fumbled to yank them back up, my hands shaky and clumsy.

  "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a sneer. I tried to stand, but my legs were jelly beneath me, my strength sapped.

  Before I could even process it, Elena stepped forward, her grip like iron as she hoisted me up with arming ease. She slung me over her shoulder like I weighed nothing, her fingers digging into my leg.

  "Let me... go," I mumbled, my voice weak as I squirmed in her hold. My arms filed pathetically, trying to push against her, but it was like fighting a brick wall. Her grip didn't budge an inch.

  "Did you not learn your lesson?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, each word ced with a chilling promise. "I own you, Miguel." Her decration sent a shiver down my spine, the weight of her control pressing down on me harder than her physical hold.

  I thrashed one st time, desperation fueling me, but exhaustion took over. My body went limp, surrendering to her as she carried me off, her steps steady and unyielding.

  "You see what happened when you left me? You need me, Miguel. Without me, you'd just be a stupid bimbo getting raped left and right." Her voice was cold, sharp, ced with a venom that made my chest tighten.

  I hated that she was right. I was too weak for this world, too fragile to stand on my own. The truth of it burned, settling like a weight in my gut.

  "J-Just don't hit me anymore... and don't be mean to me..." My voice came out small, barely above a whisper, as I sighed. It was the most I could ask of her, the bare minimum I could hope for. I braced myself for her response, already knowing it wouldn't be kind.

  "I'll do whatever the fuck I want," she snapped, her tone unyielding. "I have the right to be mad, especially when my own boyfriend gets raped because he can't bother to wear clothes that aren't revealing." Her words smmed into me, making my head throb even worse.

  The ache behind my eyes intensified, a mix of physical pain and the sting of her bme. She was still furious, not even a shred of softness in her.

  Not a hint of the Elena I thought I knew. She refused to help, refused to see me as anything but the cause of my own suffering.

  She carried me home with a swift, determined stride, her grip on me unrelenting. I didn't make a sound the entire way, my body limp in her hold, my mind too tired to fight.

  But with every step, her anger seemed to grow. She muttered under her breath, each word a fresh accusation, bming me for what happened, piling on the guilt.

  "If you hadn't dressed like that..." she hissed again at one point, her voice low but searing. "If you weren't so damn careless..." Her words trailed off into a growl, but the message was clear.

  She wasn't the Elena I remembered, the one who at least pretended to care. This version of her was a stranger, cold and merciless, and I didn't know how to reach her—or if I even could.

  "And to think," she muttered, her voice low and almost thoughtful, "I skipped work for you. Any other girl would've left you out there. Left you to rot."

  She let out a quiet, humorless ugh. "But not me. I love you, Miguel. And I know you love me too."

  Her grip tightened slightly, just enough to remind me I had no choice. "You'll learn," she added softly. "Oh yes... you will. Very soon."

  Each step she took up the staircase echoed sharply through the cold, empty space. The sound seemed too loud, too final, bouncing off the concrete walls like a countdown. I stared at the floor, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, every thought scrambling over the next.

  What was she going to do now?

  The fear sat heavy in my chest, thick and suffocating. I had no one to call. No one to run to.

  No one in this country who could hear me or help me or even understand what was happening. I felt painfully small, like a child being dragged somewhere they didn't want to go, knowing protest would only make it worse.

  We passed Delih's door.

  The sight of it made my stomach twist violently. That stupid door. That stupid moment. If only I'd walked faster. If only I'd kept my head down. If only I'd avoided her completely. One small interaction, and everything had shattered.

  The keys jingled. The door unlocked.

  Before I could even process it, I was inside again. The door closed behind us with a solid click that sounded far too loud in my ears.

  A second ter, I was id down on the bed—our bed, or maybe just hers now. The sheets were familiar, the room unchanged, and somehow that made it worse. Like the apartment itself was pretending nothing was wrong.

  I y there stiff and silent, staring up at the ceiling, my body tense and my mind racing. My heart wouldn't slow. My hands trembled at my sides.

  This wasn't my Elena.

  And as the realization settled in, cold and heavy, one thought drowned out all the others:

  I wasn't safe anymore.

  "Fuck, I just realized you probably still have the stench of those women all over you. Get your ass in the shower, now," Elena snapped, yanking me off the bed with a rough tug. She threw a towel at me, the fabric smacking against my chest. I didn't argue, didn't even think to. Fear had me on autopilot, my body moving before my mind could catch up.

  I stumbled into the bathroom, the tile cold under my bare feet, and stepped into the shower without waiting for the water to warm up. The icy spray hit me like a sp, stinging my skin, burning in a way that almost drowned out the memories cwing at my brain. Almost.

  I grabbed the soap and scrubbed, hard, dragging it over every inch of my body until my skin was raw and red. My arms, my chest, my legs—none of it felt clean enough. I could still feel their hands, their nails, the weight of their bodies pressing into me.

  Every touch lingered like a ghost, etched into my flesh, and no amount of scrubbing could erase it.

  My pelvis ached the worst, a sharp, throbbing pain that made me wince as I moved.

  I gnced down, and there it was—a dark purple bruise spreading across the skin, ugly and jagged. A brutal reminder of the women who'd forced themselves on me, their grips tight and unrelenting.

  My stomach churned. Part of me wanted to believe I deserved it, that somehow I'd brought this on myself. The thought gnawed at me.

  Finally, I reached my manhood, washing it with trembling hands, the cold water numbing the ache but not the shame.

  I stepped out of the shower soon after, the air biting at my damp skin as I grabbed the towel and dried off.

  Staring at myself in the fogged-up mirror, I barely recognized the hollow eyes looking back. I'd just gotten clean, but for what? I knew it wouldn't st.

  Elena was waiting out there, and I could already feel the dread pooling in my gut. I knew exactly what she was pnning, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it. My hands tightened around the towel, knuckles whitening, as I braced myself for what was coming next.

  I stepped out of the bathroom, a bit of water still clinging to my skin, when Elena's sharp voice sliced through the air. "Don't even think about putting on clothes. Get over here now." Her tone was ice-cold, commanding, and I froze for a split second.

  My towel slipped from my grip out of sheer instinct—fear, really. One wrong move, and I'd be on the receiving end of one of her stinging sps, or worse.

  I shuffled toward her, bare and exposed, my heart thudding in my chest. Her eyes raked over me as I stood before her, vulnerable. Her hands moved with deliberate slowness, fingers tracing invisible lines across my chest, down my sides, over every inch of me.

  It was like she was studying a canvas, inspecting a piece of art she both loathed and craved.

  "Look at this slutty body," she murmured, her voice dripping with disdain and something darker, hungrier.

  Her fingers lingered on my hip before she delivered a sharp sp, the sound cracking through the quiet room. I couldn't hold back the whine that escaped my lips, the sting blooming hot across my skin.

  And yet, as much as I hated the pain, my body betrayed me—my cock twitched, hardening despite myself, as if it had a mind of its own.

  "Of course you like that, you little whore," she sneered, a cruel smirk curling her lips as she noticed my reaction. "Get on the bed. Now." Her words left no room for hesitation, and I obeyed without a second thought, crawling onto the mattress and lying down beside her.

  She sat there, perched like a predator, her gaze heavy as it roamed over me again. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the intensity of her stare, but she wasn't having it.

  "Open those eyes," she snapped, her voice like a whip. My lids fluttered open instantly, meeting her piercing look, and I knew there was no hiding from whatever she had pnned next.

  She positioned herself in front of my hips, her hands gripping my thighs as she pushed my legs apart, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. I braced myself, knowing full well I was going to despise every moment of what was coming.

  "Getting you hard wasn't the challenge I expected..." she remarked with a smirk, her voice dripping with control. Without any warning, she pushed herself against me.

  I gasped the instant I felt my shaft slide inside her, her tight walls clenching around me, instinctively trying to draw me in deeper, as if hungry for more.

  She started moving, her thrusts picking up speed, each one harsh and deliberate. These were the same ruthless movements I'd come to dread, the kind she unleashed when her anger took over.

  I tried to hold it together, to mask the torment, but I couldn't. Tears spilled from my eyes, streaming down my face as my chest tightened with sharp, aching sobs.

  "Take it... you little whore. I own you. Say you love me," she commanded, her hand wrapping around my throat. Her grip tightened, squeezing with such force that spots danced in my vision, my head swimming as I teetered on the edge of consciousness.

  A sharp sp nded across my cheek, the sting blooming into a hot, red mark.

  "I-I love you, Elena..." I choked out between sobs, my voice trembling and broken. She didn't let up, her thrusts relentless, each one punctuated by her low moans and guttural grunts of satisfaction.

  "Perfect... this fucking dick is mine, and mine alone..." she growled through clenched teeth, her moans growing louder as she smmed into my pelvis even harder.

  The force rocked my entire body, pain and exhaustion mingling as her rhythm became almost punishing, her grip on my neck tightening just enough to keep me aware of every brutal second.

  She ughed through her ragged grunts and moans, her voice dripping with raw possessiveness.

  "Nobody else will ever feel this cock, EVER." A shiver raced down my spine, chilling my sweat-slicked skin as goosebumps erupted across my back. What had happened to my Elena? She wasn't the tender, careful lover I once knew. This was something feral, something unhinged.

  "Fuck! I'm so damn close... shit, this is too fucking good..." Her words slurred with lust, and I swore I saw a thin line of drool slip from the corner of her mouth.

  Her fingers dug into my thighs, nails biting into my flesh as she smmed into me with one final, punishing thrust. I felt her release, hot and overwhelming, soaking my pelvis as her cum spilled out, dripping down between us in sticky rivulets.

  My own cock throbbed, battered and tender, aching from the relentless pace. Every nerve screamed in a mix of pain and overstimution.

  I wanted to curl into a ball, to shrink away from the intensity and disappear into myself. She was too rough, too unstoppable, and I was caught in the storm of her desire.

  She colpsed beside me, her body slick with sweat as she pulled me into a tight, possessive cuddle. Her hot breath fanned over my hair, sending tingles down my neck as her nails scratched slow, deliberate lines across my back.

  The sensation was both soothing and menacing, a strange mix of comfort and control.

  "You'll learn... you'll understand soon, Miguel," she murmured, her voice low and thick with something I couldn't pce—promise or threat, I wasn't sure.

  "Soon," she repeated, her lips brushing the shell of my ear.

  ——

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