Please, Mr Giordano
“Strip.” He ordered simply, his eyes boring tentatively, “I'll not give you the liberty of picking up your clothes if you will not do as you're told.”
“You married me to get revenge on me!” I spat, angrily. “You are not supposed to have any carnal knowledge of me, I won't let it happen.”
He smiled. The same smile that cuts across his lips yet doesn't reach his face.
“You want me to have sex with you?”
“Isn't that what you mean by stripping?”
I asked, confusion boldly written on my face. A loud, dry mocking laugh from him almost made me wish for death.
“No wife.” He whispered, standing up from the bed towards me. “I don't want to see any of my properties on you in my house, I want you tattered and extremely void, I want to see what you will do when you're all bare before me.” I stumbled backwards at the hatred in his voice. “I want to see you at your lowest, Now strip!”
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