𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Eight

Emily

My body ached in places I didn't know could hurt. My muscles still screamed from yesterday's events, my skin was still sensitive from the endless shocks of the taser. Every part of me was raw physically and mentally.

The asshole stepped into the room, his presence swallowing up the little space like a black hole. He didn't say anything at first. Just stared at me with those cold, hollow eyes, studying me like I was some kind of experiment, some broken thing he needed to finish breaking. I was still naked, vulnerable, exactly how he wanted me. This wasn't just about pain. It was about control. It was about making me something less than human.

He set a tray down on the bedside table beside me. Mashed potatoes. Macaroni. Corn. My stomach growled in response, even though the sight of the food made me sick. My mouth was dry, my throat aching for something to drink. But this this felt wrong. Like every part of this was another piece of his game.

He watched me with that same predatory gleam, his hand resting on the taser, his eyes daring me to refuse. "Eat," he said, the word short, clipped. It wasn't a request.

I hesitated, but hunger gnawed at me, making my head spin. I had no choice. I picked up the fork and started shoveling the food into my mouth, trying to block out the fact that he was watching my every move, judging me with every bite I took. Even this was another form of humiliation.

The food tasted like nothing. It felt like paste in my mouth, but I swallowed it down because I knew what would happen if I didn't. He took a step closer, and I tensed, my muscles tightening involuntarily as his shadow fell over me. He was holding something behind his back, and I could see the gleam of metal peeking out.

"Come over here and get on your hands and knees," he said, his voice low and cold.

My heart stopped. I stared at him, frozen in place. No. Not again. I can't do this.

But He didn't care about my thoughts or my fear. He yanked the taser from behind his back and raised it slightly, just enough to remind me of the agony it could bring. My body reacted before my mind could, and I dropped to my hands and knees, feeling the cold floor press against my bare skin.

"Good girl," he muttered, circling me like a predator cornering its prey. "Now, crawl."

Crawl. Like an animal. Like a dog.

My chest tightened, my pride flaring up for just a moment. This is what he wants. To make me nothing. To strip away every piece of me.

"No," I whispered. I wasn't sure why I said it. Maybe it was the last shred of fire left in me, that little spark of resistance. Maybe I wanted to believe I still had control over something, anything.

His face twisted, that familiar look of disgust flashing across his features. He didn't say a word. The crackle of the taser filled the air, and the next second, it was pressed against my side. The jolt sent me sprawling onto the floor, a scream tearing from my throat as pain shot through every nerve.

"Do you want to make this harder than it has to be?" He said, his voice calm, but with that edge of menace that always sent chills down my spine.

I shook my head, gasping for air, trying to catch my breath as the aftershocks of the taser left me trembling. But I couldn't bring myself to move. My body was done. My spirit was frayed, hanging by a thread.

He crouched down beside me, grabbing my chin roughly, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes bored into mine, empty and soulless. "Call me 'master.'"

I stared at him, bile rising in my throat. Never. I won't give him that. I won't let him own me like that. But I didn't have a choice, did I? He would make me say it, over and over again, until I broke.