ELEANOR
I let out a slow, shaky breath, and finally, I nodded. Without another word, I turned around, my back now facing him, and every nerve in my body on high alert.
My heart pounded painfully in my chest as my eyes flickered to the gun on the dresser, its dark metal gleaming under the dim lights of Armando’s room. I had no idea if it was loaded or not, but I wasn’t about to find out. My hands trembled by my sides, and when I finally found my voice, it came out low, nearly a whisper.
“What… what do you want from me this time?”
I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of his gaze heavy, making it hard to breathe. He leaned in close, so close I could feel his breath on my ear, and then he whispered, his voice stiff and commanding, “Shhh… be quiet.”
A cold shiver slid down my spine, my heartbeat skidding as my stomach dropped. I shut my eyes, feeling them sting as tears started to form. I didn’t know what he was about to do, but he wasn’t messing around.
I heard him open the drawer, the sound of metal clinking as he rummaged through it. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to keep from looking, from imagining what he was pulling out.
The noise of the drawer sliding shut made me jump. I couldn’t see what he had taken out, but I could feel his presence-he was back in front of me. And when I finally cracked my eyes open, I saw him holding a pair of metal cuffs.
“No…” I barely whispered, my voice shaky.
Armando, he didn’t listen. He reached down, gripping my wrists with cold, unyielding hands, and before I knew it, the cuffs were clasped tight around my wrists. I stared up at him-my eyes wide, but he didn’t waver, he didn’t look away.
“Armando, what… what are you doing?” My lips trembled, and I barely recognized the sound of my own voice.
“Not a word,” he replied, his tone low and unyielding, silencing any questions I might’ve had.
He began to move, slowly circling around me, one hand grazing over my neck as he moved. His fingers brushed my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I felt my entire body tense, every nerve heightened by the awareness of the gun just a few feet away.
I wanted to tell him to stop, to ask him what this was all about, but I couldn’t get a single word out. My throat felt tight and my heart raced as he continued his slow, silent movements around me.
I knew then that there was nothing I could say, no amount of pleading or begging that would change whatever he was planning. He had me exactly where he wanted me, and there was nothing I could possibly do about it.
He moved back to the dresser, opening the drawer again, and this time, when he turned around, he held a pair of scissors in his hand. I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting as I watched him.
He didn’t speak. He just raised the scissors, letting the metal glint in the low light as he moved toward me. My eyes widened as he brought the blades to my shoulder, just grazing over the skin there before lowering them to the fabric of my nightgown.
I held my breath, not daring to move as he started to slide the scissors along the fabric, letting the cold metal press against me. He took his time, the blades grazing over my chest, lingering over my collarbone and sliding down towards my shoulder again.
Without a word, he snipped the left strap.
The fabric fell, slipping down to reveal bare skin. I felt the cool air hit me, my cheeks heating as I realized how exposed I was, but he just kept going, moving slowly and deliberately. He was watching my reaction, taking in every twitch, every shiver that I couldn’t control.
I wanted to turn away, to pull back, but the cuffs on my wrists kept me trapped. I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on steadying my breathing, even as my body betrayed me, reacting to his touch against my will.
The scissors grazed over my chest, close enough to make me tense, to make my skin tingle, but he didn’t press down, didn’t cut further. He just let the metal linger, taunting me, testing my reaction.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. It sent another shiver through me, but I kept my eyes shut, trying to block out everything, to pretend this wasn’t happening.
He reached up, gripping my chin firmly, his fingers pressing against my skin, forcing me to look at him. His gaze was dark and steady as he held me there, his eyes locked on mine.
“Is this still that little game of yours?” I barely recognized my own voice, but I couldn’t hide the bitterness. “What do you want from me?”
His grip tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “What I want,” he murmured, his tone chillingly calm, “You don’t get to question me.”
He held my gaze a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Finally, Armando let go, and I sagged slightly, the fight slipping out of me as I accepted that I had no control here.
But even as I stood there, vulnerable and trapped, a part of me refused to let him see how afraid I was. I kept my head up, my eyes locked on his, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
And for just a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold, calculating look that had always made me question whether Armando was capable of anything human.
I didn’t know what he wanted, but his silence was unsettling, like he was just waiting for me to break.
“Why are you doing this?” I managed to ask, my voice soft.
Armando didn’t answer. Instead, his hand moved to my chest-his fingers tracing the fabric of my dress and his thumbs pressing in lazy circles. His touch sent an unwanted thrill down my spine, but it also felt like an invasion. The dress was already slipping, and he was making sure it fell further, exposing me in a way that made me want to curl up and disappear. I looked down, heat rushing to my face, but he wasn’t about to let me escape.
“Why won’t you just let me be?” I tried again, clinging to what little control I had left. “Or… or send me away if you don’t want me here.” My voice shook, though I hated showing weakness. “You don’t have to do this. You have… her,” I said, gesturing weakly to the girl on the bed. “You already have your slut in your bed. Isn’t she enough?”
He leaned close, his breath brushing the side of my neck as he inhaled, lingering like he was savoring the scent of something precious. “We’re getting to that,” he murmured, his voice low with a dark promise hanging on his words.
He raised a hand, motioning to the girl on the bed to come closer.
Before I could react, he was pulling me toward the bed, fingers gripping my arm with a force that told me resistance would be useless. I swallowed-my heart hammering in my chest as he raised a hand, motioning to the girl on the bed to come closer.
I watched as the she slid off the bed and came to stand beside me.
Then, in one smooth motion, her hand reached out, trailing along my shoulder and down my arm. I shivered, unable to pull away as her fingers explored, gentle and teasing.
I tried to turn my head, to shut out the way her touch made my skin prickle with a mixture of fear and something disturbingly close to anticipation.
“Stop it,” I whispered, though my voice sounded weak even to me.
But she only smiled, a small, amused curve of her lips. “You don’t want me to stop,” she replied, her voice soft, almost kind. There was no malice, just a calm confidence that unsettled me more.
Who the hell did she think she was touching me that way?
“Please…” I tried to step back, but Armando was there, his hand slipping to the small of my back, guiding me back toward her. “I… I don’t want this.”
“Then why are you still here?” His voice was quiet but sharp with sacarsm, cutting through my hesitation. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as they swept over me, like he was dissecting me with each glance. “If you really didn’t want this, Eleanor, you’d be gone already.” He mocked.
I swallowed, my throat tight. “You think I’d just… stay and let this happen?” My voice wavered, frustration and fear tangling together. “I’d leave if you weren’t holding me here Armando, and you know that.”
The girl’s fingers brushed my jaw, tilting my face up to meet her gaze.
Her touch was gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to Armando’s calculated intensity. “Shhh…” she murmured, her tone soothing, like I was a child she was lulling to sleep. “Relax… there’s no need to fight.”
Every nerve in my body was screaming, every instinct urging me to run, to push them away, to somehow escape this nightmare. And yet… as much as I hated myself for it, a strange warmth began to spread through me, a confusing, unwelcome sensation that made it harder to think, harder to resist.
“Why… are you doing this to me?” I forced the words out, my voice barely a whisper. “What do you get out of this? Making me feel…” I trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought, ashamed of the way my body was betraying me.
Armando’s hand tightened on my arm, pulling me closer. “You’re more honest than you think, Eleanor. Your body doesn’t lie,” he said in a low dark tone, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“No,” I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that was clouding my thoughts. “This isn’t… I don’t want this!”