Page 12 of Claimed By the Pakhan

Something she knows will be bad for her.

5

FIA

The wallsof this house are yellingget outas I wander aimlessly through the corridors, desperate to trigger another memory.

While Emil is locked away in his study, I take the opportunity to walk around the house, waiting for something to click in my brain.

But the fog is thick, impossible to shift.

I take my time walking down each corridor, exploring each room, and I’m still in the same fucking boat I was in an hour ago.

Luka seems like a trustworthy guy. Unlike the man who brought me here, he seems honest, like there’s no secret agenda hidden up his sleeves.

Perhaps that explains why my clit has been throbbing all afternoon with the memory of him. There’s excitement in the unknown. Luka is the guy you confide in, whereas Emil is the guy who makes you turn your back on your morals…

And all for what? A good time?

His intentions are definitely blacker than his eyes. My pussy clings to the memory of him as I stumble into his room, the air filled with his sharp cologne.

Not fucking helping.

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is furnished with dark oak, matching the gloomy atmosphere outside. The floor-to-ceiling windows seem to be a running motif, a feature in most rooms in the house.

I walk toward the window, folding my arms over my chest. Branches bounce as tiny birds hop their way across the trees. The forest looks never ending. Even two stories up, I’m struggling to find a way out, or even a gap in the trees that will allow me to see more than two yards ahead.

A tranquil feeling spreads through me, erasing some anxiety. It’s a familiar feeling, like I’m slipping into déjà vu. The feeling passes as soon as I turn around, examining the unmade bed.

I frown, running my hands over the soft blankets, the texture somewhat familiar underneath my fingertips.

And then something unusual captures my attention, causing me to rush over to the wooden headboard. Unusual markings are indented into the wood. I gasp, trailing my fingers over the marks. They look a lot like fingernails.

My heart picks up, my temperature rising as I compare my own fingernails to the scratches on the board. Panic breaks out in the form of a white-hot flash, causing me to stumble into the bed. A faint spell washes over me, causing the room to spin. Just to be sure, I hold my fingernail up against the markings again, flexing my hand. And each scratch matches up perfectly…

What the actual fuck?

The alarm bells ringing in my ears are muted by my own arousal. The last fucking thing I should be feeling is horny, but can I blame myself? I was hit by a car. The rational side of my brain is still asleep in that coma.

I stare at the headboard, analyzing each scratch when the room spins again. I fall back, grabbing the sheets for support as the fog clears for just a moment.

“Such a fucking dirty girl,” grunts Emil. “Turn around so I can fuck you from behind.”

He flips me onto my back, my face pressed into the headboard.

He grabs my hands, crossing them over and pinning them above my head.

“What… are you doing?” I gag, barely able to speak.

“Taking away your ability to touch yourself.” He slams my hands into the headboard. “I’m the only person in this world who can you. If I see you rubbing your own pussy again, I'll handcuff you next time.”

His voice fades, replaced by a ringing silence as I sit back into the bed, blinking away the memory. My clit is throbbing even more than before.

I slam my head back into the headboard, groaning. Fuck Emil for being so self-entitled. And fuck me for allowing him to treat me that way. I’m pretty sure Emil likes to exercise violence in all areas of his life, even in the bedroom.

The markings on the wall must mean I touched myself without his permission and was punished as a result.

What will he do now if he catches me fingering myself on his bed? Lock me in chains? Punish me through violent sex? There’s a way we can find out.