prologue
Selina
One bite.
Just take one bite.
I listlessly poke at the spaghetti, meatballs, and Caesar salad on my plate, trying to work up the resolve to take a bite; I don’t really have an appetite for anything.
I’ve lost my appetite.
All food has become tasteless and odorless.
In fact... everything has lost its meaning. Music has lost its meaning... as have books, coffee, movies, crochet, colors, clothes, going for walks, and friends. Nothing evokes the same feelings in me anymore.
And I know the problem isn't with the world—it’s with me.
Nothing is the way it used to be.
It’s as if I’ve ceased to exist.
Because of him.
A stray tear traced a path down my cheek; I quickly wiped it away to keep more from following—as if crying over him were a crime. I didn't want to weep for him again. But it was no avail. Cascades of tears poured down my cheeks at the memory of him.
The memory of our last moment together flooded my mind...
I pushed my plate away and sprang up from the chair. As I turned to leave, I banged against the edge of the dining table, but I didn't register the pain; I felt nothing. Everything was numb—except for my broken heart.
My legs could no longer hold me up; I sank down, resting my arms on the sofa, and continued to weep.
Three months.
Three months without seeing him.
A year and five months of his deception.
Why?
Why does everything good in my life just slip away?
After what felt like an eternity, my sobbing subsided and my tears dried, though I was still gasping for breath.
Suddenly, I felt a prickling sensation—a sign of another presence in the studio apartment. I glanced around the living room, which was dimly lit by the glow from the kitchen. Everything was in its place.
I registered the hum of the refrigerator and the fluttering of curtains from my bedroom; I must have left the windows open. Quieting my breathing, I rose on weary legs. A shiver ran down my legs and my nipples hardened from the cold; I was wearing nothing but black panties and a short nightgown, with no bra. I headed to my room and closed the windows, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end from the feeling that I was being watched.
I headed to the shared bathroom in the hallway and closed the door behind me. I stripped off my panties and shirt, then stepped behind the curtain of the bathtub—which doubled as a shower. After testing the water with my finger to ensure it was warm, I slipped underneath the spray. The rainfall- shower beat down on me; I hoped it would cleanse my mind of the swirling thoughts filling my head. I closed my eyes and tilted my face up, letting the droplets strike me directly.
The sound of the door closing snapped me out of my thoughts. I quickly opened my eyes and looked toward the noise, turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain to see who had entered, and...
Damn.
I gasped when I saw Kostya leaning against the door, his arms crossed, staring straight at me. It was as if he could see right through the yellow curtain.
"Kostya! What are you doing here?" I shouted hysterically.
"How did you get in?" I demanded.
"Why are you here? What do you want?" I hurriedly stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel to wrap around myself.
"I missed you too, moya babochka," he finally replied. He uncrossed his arms and started walking toward me.
"Get out of here." He didn't listen, of course.
"Get out, or I’ll call the police," I threatened.
"Are you sure?" he retorted mockingly, given what I had recently discovered about him.
Was I? No, I wasn't sure; the police were likely on his side if he could respond like that.
That led me to wonder just how much control the Nikolayev family held over the city.
"What do you want? Just go—we’re done," I said in desperation.
"Net." He shook his head in disagreement. "We aren't done, and we never will be. You are mine forever, just as you promised—or have you forgotten your promise?" He tilted his head.
"Just leave me alone, you criminal," I shouted in frustration. His dark grin made me instantly regret bringing up the elephant in the room.
"All the labels you throw at me don't change the fact that you belong to me, and I’m here to take what’s mine."
"No. Just... no. You can't take me after deceiving me for all this time."
He sighed. "I had hoped you wouldn't give me a reason to use this, but deep down, I knew I’d need it." He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and stepped closer until he was standing right in front of me.
Damn his scent so good.
The sight of the handcuffs, combined with his dark, intense gaze and the underlying intent behind it, filled me with fear.
"Kostya, please... just go away. Go back to wherever you’ve been all this time." My heart betrayed my words; his scent was still clouding my mind, making me ache for his nearness.
For his touch.
"You need to understand now: I’m never letting you go. And I didn't leave of my own free will."
"Leave." The word was barely a whisper, yet he heard it.
"Never." With that, he began fastening one cuff around my wrist. "Wait—what are you doing? Get away." He paid no heed to my protests or my resistance. He took my other hand, looped the chain over the curtain rod, and locked the second cuff around my free wrist; but amidst my struggling, my towel slipped to the floor.
I was left hanging from the curtain rod.
Naked.
Right in front of him.
Yet, his eyes never left my face.
"Never. I’m never walking away. How could I leave you when I belong to you ?" His desperate tone conveyed so much of his pain.
"Untie me, and then we’ll talk." I turned my face away. He gripped my chin and turned my face back to his. "Will you listen to me and come back into my arms?" "No—of course not. We’re going to discuss our relationship and how things need to end—amicably, without any trouble." My heart ached just saying it, but I had to protect myself.
"It seems I didn't make myself clear enough..."
"You are all fucking mine. We aren't separating, or any of that 'amicable' nonsense."
"Now, say it," he roared in anger.
"Say 'Kostya I am yours,'" he insisted.
Oh God... he was really starting to scare me. "Kostya, listen to me. You’re angry right now; let’s discuss things calmly and..."
Big mistake.
"Fuck it." He began unbuckling his belt and wrapped it twice around his hand.
"What are you doing?" Even though he saw how terrified I was, he remained unmoved; instead, he commanded, "Turn around."
A command.
A command delivered with absolute calm.
A calm masking an underlying rage—a rage ready to explode at any moment.
A simple command, yet heavy with the weight of what I was about to endure.
"Kostya..." I said, calling out his name. God, I was terrified of what was coming; I didn't want to feel the sting of that belt. In all the time I’d known Kostya, he had never tried anything like that with me.
"I said turn around." His roar betrayed his dwindling patience, compelling me to obey instantly.
"Last chance. Say you belong to me and that you’ll never leave my side, and I’ll untie you right now and make you feel comfortable—or..." He didn't finish; I knew exactly what would happen.
He would strike me with his belt.
Part of me is tempted to obey him, just to feel his touch upon me. But no—I am done with the deception and the lies; I choose myself.
"I don't belong to you; we're finished ahhh—" I screamed in pain at the searing sting across my ass. "Stop! What are you doing?" I struggled violently against my restraints, trying to break free, but it was useless.
"Ah!" A second blow landed with even greater force, leaving a searing, white-hot burn where he struck, I could no longer hold back my tears; they streamed down my cheeks. "Let me go..." The third blow landed on the fleshiest part of my ass, forcing a gasp and a scream from me; my damp skin made the strikes even more agonizing.
"You are mine, and you will never leave my sight again." "We will never part; I’m binding you to me forever." And with every threat—or promise, depending on your perspective—his belt came down harder, punctuating his words.
The blows continued fiercely against my ass, occasionally landing on my thighs, amidst my weeping and pleas for him to stop.
Honestly, I don’t know what I was babbling while he struck so hard; my head rested on my shoulder, and my ass was arched as if begging for more.
In truth, I was.
I don’t know what I should be feeling right now—anger, pain, or happiness? At the very least, I know I am somewhat confused. Pain and pleasure mingled in a bewildering blend; every strike brought a searing, white-hot sting that built up a pleasure threatening to explode, leaving me craving more.
This mounting tension inside me was unbearable; I wanted to touch myself, I wanted to reach my climax. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blows subsided.
I whimpered softly.
I want more.
The bathroom was quiet, save for the sound of my low sobbing and the chain scraping against the metal bar as I shifted.
I looked at him. "I'm sorry," I murmured softly—it seemed like the right thing to say; maybe he’d unlock my restraints.
"For?" He raised a blonde eyebrow mockingly.
"For not answering your calls?" Damn it, why did that come out as a question?
"And?" He was still mocking me.
"For blocking you every time you called from a different number."
"And?" What else? Damn it, think.
"For... for... for staying away from you," I managed to get out.
"Is that what you're sorry for?"
"Yes?"
"No. Sel, you aren't sorry for leaving me; you're sorry you couldn't hide from me."
Urgh, he was so stubborn.
He brought his head close to mine until we were sharing the same breath; his forest-colored eyes captivated me, making me lose myself in their depths. He moved even closer, leaving barely an inch between us, and I tilted my head toward him, ready for our lips to meet.
He pulled away and shook his head. "You disappointed me, Sel."
There it was—him calling me by that name that sent waves of warmth through my heart.
"You left me the moment you got the chance, refused to answer my calls or hear me out, and the biggest mistake of all was thinking you could actually get away from me." His tone was calm, yet it masked an underlying darkness.
"And now, you’re apologizing just so you can run away again."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—what have I gotten myself into?
I let out a gasp as his hand fully covered my sex; his fingers delved into my wet folds. He smiled and said, "You are absolutely drenched." The squelching sounds of my folds—which he had begun to toy with—filled the room; I was mortified right then and there. Why was my body betraying me in front of him?
To make matters worse, I felt myself growing even wetter by his long, skillful fingers, he found my clit and began pressing down in firm, circular motions while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside me, making me gasp in relief as I leaned partially against his shoulder.
He pinched my clit and curled his fingers against that magical spot—the one that made my vision blur for a moment and my legs go weak beneath me. His fingers kept working, and I felt I was close—so close. Just a few more strokes of his fingers and I would come.
But he stopped.
"No," I protested.
"Promise me you won't leave me again, and I'll make you feel good," he whispered close to my ear.
"Never." He resumed his assault with his fingers. Every time I reached the edge, he would stop, and ask me for the same thing.
But this time, I couldn't hold back any longer; I cried out in frustration when he pulled his fingers away just as I was on the verge of climaxing.
"I hate you," I whispered weakly, my legs buckling.
"No, you don't."
"Let me go."
"Will you promise me?" Despair and frustration made me agree to anything just so he would set me free. "Yes, I promise." I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked at him.
"What do you promise?" he asked firmly, he can see I'm not serious.
"I won't leave you."
For now.
But I didn't say that last part out loud. He seemed satisfied with my answer.
"And?"
Urgh!
"I'm yours" just for tonight.
Tomorrow, I will find escape from this.
"Moya babochka..." With that, he began kissing me ravenously, and I found myself returning the passion with equal intensity.
Damn, I had missed him. When he pulled back slightly, he murmured against my lips, "Mine." Then he moved on to kiss my neck, collarbone, and shoulders, trailing lower to kiss my breasts while muttering like a man possessed, "Sel, Sel, Sel."
He lowered himself further to kiss my stomach. "Sel, Sel, Sel, Sel... moya babochka... my love." "Don't leave me, okay?" "I won't let you get away from me again." He turned me around and began kissing my ass, licking the marks left by his belt—sensations that made me hiss.
He spread my cheeks and buried his face between them, alternating between licking and kissing my vagina from behind. I felt sheer bliss and ecstasy—the sensation of his mouth against me, and the reality of him kneeling before me.
Well, behind me—but it didn't matter; the point was that he was kneeling for me. It was enough to make me come right then and there. I had always loved seeing Kostya kneeling for me.
"Mmm... hng, ah... there, yes, right there," I gasped happily as he began to fuck me with his tongue. "Come for me," he murmured against my folds, then intensified his efforts, he pinched and teased my clit between his fingers, and I started seeing stars. "Fuck... ah... Kostya," I moaned his name as I cum. "Good girl." That was the last thing I heard as I felt myself slowly losing consciousness.
