Falling for the Villain by M. Robinson

CHAPTER FIVE

Juliet

“Get on the bed.”

He sensed my apprehension.

“Juliet…” he cautioned before I slowly walked toward the mattress and sat on the edge.

“Remove the towel.”

I peeked up at him through my lashes to find his eyes still remained dark and callous. Throwing the towel at his feet, he smirked at my attempt to be rebellious. His Adam’s apple moved, walking over to me, each footstep deliberately calculated and precise. He kneeled down to my level, sitting on the soles of his shoes before grabbing my chin, settling it to look directly at him.

“Spread your legs, pet.”

“What?” I asked in confusion, sheer terror, my voice caught in my throat almost like my body was rebelling against his demands.

“You heard me.”

“I-I-I-I…”

“I-I-I…” he mocked in an agitated tone, both infuriating me and making me want to cry.

“Why must you defy me? That pride of yours isn’t doing anything other than making me hurt you. But maybe that what’s you what … for me to hurt you?”

I fervently shook my head; he was insane. “That’s absurd. Why would I want you to hurt me?”

“Then prove me wrong, Juliet. Be a good girl and spread your legs for me. Unless you want me to force you?”

When I didn’t move fast enough, he slapped my thigh. There would be a handprint where he’d struck me, I knew it—like he was marking me everywhere.

“Now!”

I jumped, shaking. “Please…”

“Please what, pet?”

“Please don’t make me do this.”

“You’re sadly mistaken if you think for one second that I care about what you want. You either spread your legs for me, or I’ll spread them for you. The choice is once again yours. Choose wisely because, with the way I’m feeling, I’ll have no mercy on you.”

“Why are you doing this to me? What do you want? Is it money?”

He scoffed out a snide chuckle, letting go of my chin to lean back and sit on the balls of his feet.

“Take a good look around. Does it look like I need money?”

“Then what is it? I don’t understand. Just please make me understand. You at least owe me that.”

He narrowed his devious eyes at me, making me shiver from the expression on his face. I was fully aware I was pushing his limits, but I couldn’t help it. I was a fucking Sinacore. It was in my blood. It was how I was made. I wasn’t used to cowering down to anyone. My family would be so unbelievably disappointed in me. The shame of just thinking about what my father and brother would say seeing me like this…

Naked on a bed.

With a sadistic son of a bitch ordering me to spread my legs.

I could never tell them.

But I could at least know in my soul that I fought, that I tried to become more than the monster in front of me, that while he was making demands, confusing me, dominating me, I could make my own plans—revenge.

“I don’t owe you one damn thing, pet. It’s best if you recognize that.”

I wanted to scream.

Fight.

Kill him.

Not one part of me wanted to spread my legs for his amusement.

“If I do, then what? What happens after that?”

He probably knew I was buying time, but it was all I had. My questions, and it was, unfortunately, the one thing that truly pissed him off.

“Spread your fucking legs, and you’ll find out.”

This was where I truly lost my shit. I had nothing left to lose, nothing to gain.

“Fuck you!”

He growled from deep within his chest and lunged at me.

Instantly, I shouted, “I’m sorry!”

It didn’t matter. I knew it wouldn’t. Although, it didn’t stop me from repeating it over and over like a mantra, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He roughly shoved me back onto the bed with his hand over my neck. I thought he was going to choke me, hit me, hurt me in ways I never thought possible.

I wasn’t wrong.

He was going to hurt me, just not in the way I imagined.

My hands instinctively went to his sharp hold over my neck.

“Please! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!”

“You aren’t”—he leaned forward close to my ear—“but you will be.”

Locking me in place with his tight, crippling grip, he slapped my pussy so fucking hard that my legs just spread open for him. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see what he was going to do next.

“Look at me!”

“No!”

“I said fucking look at me!”

“No!”

He didn’t waver, cupping his hand over my mouth and nose; I couldn’t breathe. Instinctively, I kicked my legs which only made him straddle my body. I thrashed around, at least I tried to, but I was losing air. My oxygen was depleting, and it didn’t help that I was wasting it pitifully trying to fight him off.

I was going to pass out, and at this point, I didn’t give a shit. It meant I didn’t have to look at him, hear him, want to kill him for however long I was out.

Everything started going dark.

Darker.

Black.

Complete and utter opaqueness. Until the only thing I could see was my life playing out for me like a tragic Shakespearian play. I saw it all, starting from when I was little. I went from being with my captor, with his hands around my neck, to being home.

Safe and sound.

Happy.

Loved.

At first, I thought I was dreaming. My head felt heavy, and my body even heavier; the room felt like it was spinning. I was lightheaded, and even though I had just woken up from fainting, I was tired, exhausted even. I slowly moved my head side-to-side, trying to wake up. Only then did I realize there was something on my eyes, keeping me from being able to see or open them.

I should’ve felt fear, but I was drained of any emotion. I allowed it to take over and passed out again. The next time I woke up, I was less hazed, recognizing instantly that my displacement had not changed. I was in the exact same position I was in before.

Except this time, there was what felt like a rope tied around my wrists and ankles, binding my arms to the headboard, and my legs were spread apart, knotted by rope to the bedposts. I couldn’t close them. I wanted to yell, but it came out as a muffled shriek. Nobody was going to rescue me but me, and I couldn’t even get out of the damn ropes or stay awake long enough to scream. Not that it mattered.

I remembered a psych class, where the professor did an entire lecture on fear and how it motivated people, how it was one of the only things that could create a perfect world, and I remembered hating that it made sense, that it sounded right. Not everything was fueled by adrenaline, fed by fear, and there was nothing I could do about the way I responded, even when I told myself to calm down, to think, to negotiate. I felt myself constantly defaulting , protecting myself.

I tried to move until my skin felt raw, fighting until my body couldn’t move anymore, and I was sweating profusely. I should have been crying, and I couldn’t tell if I was in shock because I didn’t feel anything.

I was numb.

It was only then that I felt the back of a hand touch the side of my face, and I froze, not moving one muscle. My mind went into overload…

“Is it you?” I asked, my voice trembling. Thinking it could be someone else—I was unsure of which would be better or worse. Him or someone new…

As if reading my mind, he countered, “Do you want it to be?”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. His hand was still on the side of my face and hadn’t moved. It was comforting and creepy all at the same time. My breathing was labored, and my heart was racing. More questions started to arise in my mind.

Before I could continue with my mindless thoughts, he asked, “Are you done with your temper tantrum?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Rat bastard and his demeaning praise.

“Can you please take the blindfold off?” I tried again, voice easy, all traces of the tremble gone.

“Seeing as you wouldn’t look me in the eyes before, I assumed you wanted to stay in your self-preservation of darkness.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

“How convenient,” he snapped.

“Please. I won’t fight you again.”

“You’re tied to your bed, pet. You can’t do much of anything right now.”

I whimpered, wanting to see.

“You really do have a pretty pussy, Juliet,” he laughed at me, stripping away the last bit of my dignity. “It’s just the right shade of pink.”

I sucked in air from the fresh tears coming out of my eyes. I’d never in my life felt lower, more demeaned, embarrassed, afraid, and yet I responded; I physically responded like someone sick in the head.

“Pet … when someone pays you a compliment, you should say thank you. Where the fuck are your manners? I bathe you, I give you water, food, shelter, and now, I tell you that your cunt is pretty, and what do you say?” he taunted, hitting something hard against the soles of my feet.

I whimpered again.

Was that a cane?

He did it a couple more times.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I shouted, appeasing him while still trying to keep my fight on the inside. I had to escape, and if that meant I thanked him for his insanity, then so be it.

“Much better. We’re going to have to work on those manners and respect, pet. I won’t have you disrespecting me.”

“What are you going to do to me?” I questioned again. How many times would we have this conversation? And how many times would I be punished for the truth?

“Whatever the fuck I want.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“You earn the right to know my name, Juliet. And we both know how much of a bad girl you’ve been. You disappoint me.”

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing I could reply that would simply appease him.

“Look what my punishment has done for your manners; this is the politest you’ve been since you arrived.”

“Can you please just tell me your name?”

“Don’t be so needy, pet. I don’t like it.”

I sniffled, just wanting something for myself. Anything. At this point, I’d probably beg on my hands and knees just to know his initials.

“Why do you think you deserve to know my name? Do you think you’re going to refer to me by it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m done answering your questions.”

“You haven’t answered a single one.”

“You will refer to me as Master. There. Now you know my name.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Am I being trafficked? Is that what this is about? Are you training me to sell me?”

“No. I’m breaking you for me.”

His answer made my heart slow down.

“Is that what you want? To break me?”

I would never forget the next thing that flew out of his mouth.

“You’ll soon find out.”

In the following weeks, I learned a lot about myself.

Especially how right he was.