CHAPTER 4

My heart pounded with such ferocity. It felt like it might burst from my chest. Bound and gagged, every breath was a struggle, every thought a desperate cry for freedom. He took a step back, his eyes raking over me with a mixture of possessiveness and malice. I could feel his gaze lingering on my restrained form.

He turned away, moving towards the table of instruments. The sound of his footsteps echoed ominously in the confined space, each step a prelude to the torment that awaited. I pulled at my restraints, the cuffs digging painfully into my wrists, but they held fast. Panic surged through me, my mind racing for a way out, a way to escape this nightmare.

"Ah, this should do nicely," he murmured, lifting a flogger from the table. He tested its weight, swinging it experimentally through the air. The leather tails made a soft, menacing sound as they cut through the silence. He turned back to me, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"Now, wife," he said, his voice a dark whisper, "it's time to remind you of your place."

He approached the bed, the flogger held loosely in one hand. I tried to squirm away, my body straining against the cuffs, but it was futile. His presence loomed over me, a shadow of menace. With a flick of his wrist, the flogger came down, the leather tails striking my thigh with a stinging bite. I cried out, the sound muffled by the gag, tears streaming down my face.

"Do you feel that?" he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "That's the price of defiance."

He brought the flogger down again and again, each strike a searing reminder of my helplessness. My cries filled the room, though they were little more than muffled whimpers. I thrashed against the bed, the restraints biting into my skin, but there was no escape.

Just as I thought I could bear no more, he stopped, his breathing heavy. He leaned over me, his face inches from mine. His eyes were dark, filled with a twisted pleasure that sent a chill down my spine.

"You see, wife," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin, "this is where you belong. At my mercy, completely under my control."

He reached out, tracing a finger along the tear-streaked path on my cheek. I flinched at his touch, my body recoiling instinctively. His smile widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

I realised then that my cries and struggles only fed his sadistic pleasure. The more I fought, the more he revelled in my terror. A wave of resignation washed over me. There was no escape, no relief from this nightmare. My body ached from the flogging, and my spirit felt on the verge of breaking. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stop struggling, to stop giving him the satisfaction of my fear.

A new resolve formed within me. If I couldn't escape, I could at least deny him the pleasure of seeing my terror. I would endure whatever he planned without giving him the reactions he craved. With a deep breath, I forced my body to go still, my muscles to relax against the restraints. I braced myself for whatever came next, deciding to face it with silent defiance.

Inwardly, I was breaking. Never in a million years had I imagined my first time would be like this. A pang of sorrow pierced my heart as I thought about my family, my brothers. How worried they must be now, not knowing where I was, if I was safe. A stream of tears ran down my face, each one a testament to my despair and regret.

Why hadn't I listened to them? They had warned me not to go to the mall alone. They had told me it wasn't safe. I had brushed off their concerns, convinced that nothing bad could happen to me. Now, I was paying the price for my recklessness. This was my fault. I had ignored their warnings, and now I was trapped in this hell, a prisoner to this monster's twisted desires.

He watched me, his satisfaction faltering slightly as he realised I was no longer struggling. His hand gripped the flogger tighter, frustration flashing in his eyes. He wanted my terror, my screams. I would not give him the satisfaction. I would endure, silently, hoping that maybe if he sees that this is my first time, he will let me go. The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, but I blinked them away, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "What's this?" he taunted, his voice a cruel whisper. "Giving up already?"

I said nothing, my eyes staring up at the ceiling, refusing to meet his gaze. Inside, I was trembling, but I forced myself to remain still, to show no reaction.

"Interesting," he murmured, his tone laced with curiosity. "Let's see how long you can keep that up."

As he moved away to select another instrument of torment, I closed my eyes, a fresh wave of tears slipping down my cheeks. I thought of my brothers, of their laughter, their protective and warm hugs. I held onto those memories, using them to steel myself against the pain that was sure to come.

He moved to the table of implements, selecting a set of clamps connected by a delicate chain. The sight of them filled me with fresh horror. He approached me slowly, savouring my fear once more.

With careful precision, he attached the clamps to my nipples, tightening them until pain shot through my chest. I cried out, the sound muffled by the gag. He gave the chain a gentle tug, and I felt the searing pain intensify, tears blurring my vision further.

He moved towards me, his eyes gleaming with a malevolent intensity. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to undress. The sound of fabric rustling filled the room, a prelude to the horror unfolding before me. As he shed his clothes, my eyes were drawn to the bulge straining against his underwear. A surge of panic coursed through me. I'd never seen anything like it before, and the thought of that monstrous appendage tearing through me filled me with dread.

I tried to look away, but my gaze was irresistibly drawn back to the sight. My thoughts spiralled, each one more frantic than the last. Would that thing tear me apart? Could I even survive this? The questions looped in my mind, a relentless torment.

He moved to the other side of the bed, retrieving something from a tiny sealed plastic bag. Inside was a single pill. Before I could process the significance, he grabbed my face and removed the gag from my mouth. I gasped, about to speak, but before I could utter a word, he forced the pill into my mouth. His hands clamped over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air until I had no choice but to swallow the pill. It slid down my throat painfully, and then he replaced the gag, ensuring I couldn't spit it out.

He then turned and left the room, leaving me alone with my fear and the growing numbness spreading through my body. When he returned, he carried a large medical bag, placed it on the table, and then turned towards me. He approached me again, his eyes unreadable now. With deft movements, he undid the cuffs, but my relief was short-lived because my body was already succumbing to the effects of the pill. I felt numb, weak, and utterly helpless. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to a spreader bar. He spread my legs wide, clasping my feet tightly in place.

I tried to speak, to ask him what he was going to do, but my words came out weak and slurred. "What...what are you...?" My voice trailed off as the world around me started to fade. The last thing I saw was him pulling out something that looked like a catheter and a syringe.

~~~~~

My eyes snapped open, and a heavy headache throbbed in my skull as I reached up to touch my head. The movement made me aware of an IV drip inserted into my veins, and panic surged through me. I darted my gaze around the room. Memories flooded back in a rush, sending a chill down my spine as I realised where I was — in his room. I jolted upright but felt something hard press against my stomach.

Frantically, I threw aside the sheets that covered me. As I looked down, utter terror and disbelief gripped me — my stomach was swollen, unmistakably large.

Before I could comprehend why, the door swung open, and a woman dressed like a nurse hurried in. Her eyes widened upon seeing me, and she rushed towards me. "Mrs. Anderson, you need to lie back down," she urged, her voice tinged with concern and urgency. I swatted her hands away in panic, tearing the IV out of my vein. Blood spurted from the needle site, and I yelped in fear, "I need to get out of here! My brothers must be worried!"

The nurse gently but firmly guided me back onto the bed, whisper-yelling, "Calm down, Mrs. Anderson. What you're doing isn't safe for you or the baby."

Frozen against her grip, I looked up at her. "What did you just say?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"You're five months pregnant, Mrs. Anderson," she replied softly, her expression a mix of compassion and confusion.

I looked down at my swollen stomach in disbelief, then back at her, then down again. "How... How is this possible? Why am I pregnant? Is it... is it his?" I turned back to her, desperation in my voice. "Does this mean I've been lying here for five months?"