Wicked Love

He smiled as he twisted the knife; the one plunged into her heart. She winced at the pain, as the tears ran down her face. She pressed against her shackles, unable to escape, unable to run away.

“Does that hurt, my dear?” Her tormentor asked wickedly before laughing.

She looked up at him with hope in her eyes. “Please stop.” She begged in a low whimper.
He eyed her, amused at her request. “Now why would I do that? You are mine to do with as I please and what pleases me is to hurt you, over and over again.” Another chuckle from his sweet mouth.

Another tear from her as she remembered that sweet mouth kissing her, filling her head with ideas of love and loyalty of security and protection. ’I’ll be your home.’ He had whispered to her late into the night. ‘I will take care of you.’ Her heart fluttered at the memory.

She looked at him, at the home he had built her and her heart was defeated. She knew this was her prison and the rest of her life she would be tortured by the only man she had ever truly loved.

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