Page 109 of Chained

He slams his phone onto his bedside table and walks over to me, his hands grabbing both sides of my face to pull me to his. His mouth crashes against mine, teeth hitting and tongue invading. The taste of champagne lingers on his tongue. He pulls away, leaving us both breathless.

"Be stripped and ready for when I'm back. I want your cunt dripping for me," he commands, pushing me away and storming out of the room.

I stand for a second, my mind aching momentarily from the emotional whiplash. My fingers trace the feel of his mouth that lingers on my lips. My eyes wander around the room. I shouldn't snoop; I should be prepping for what's to come next, but instead I'm opening his wardrobe door and peeping inside.

My eyes fall on the small metal box that sits hidden under an old jacket. I shouldn't. I shouldn't look, but I can't stop my hands from taking hold. It's heavy and cold, and I see the lock. There's no way it's open, there's no way he'd leave something valuable unlocked. No matter how much he says no one comes here.

I lift the lid anyway, knowing with every second I waste is another second closer to him coming back. Moving to the bed, I slowly sit down and place the box on my lap. Fumbling inside, I inspect what's inside. I pull out a small, crimson velvet bag, and I place it beside me. At the bottom of the box sits a very big, thick journal.

I let my curiosity get the better of me, opening the page and see in scrawled handwriting.

Property of Vincent Reigns.

2016.

I swallow. It's not just a journal. It's his journal. A little diary of his mind. Fuck, my fingers itch to keep reading. My palms sweat, fingertips sticking to the pages as I slowly move each one. He'll kill me for looking, but he's going to kill me anyway. So what's the harm?

13th of March 2016

Dear Diary,

She looked at me today.

I was in the parlour for the first time since my father had humiliated me, and she was on the stage. I couldn't drag my eyes away from her, I don't know how anyone could. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Fuck, the kind most men would dream about.

My beautiful Lola.

I'm not allowed to touch her. Well, not in public anyway, but it's getting harder. Every night she fills my dreams, her slender body and perky breasts. The need for her growing stronger with every breath.

I want her so bad, but will she ever want me back?

I keep turning the pages, every thought and feeling Vincent ever had spilled out in secret. My mind so invested with every word, I tune out everything else. I need to know who she is.

18th of June 2016

Dear Diary,

She laughed at me.

She fucking laughed so hard after I finished inside of her too quick. My cursed cock burst as soon as I felt her pussy wrap around it.

I couldn't stop myself.

She wouldn't stop laughing, and even when she did, I could still hear it. Could still hear the way she'd mocked me for my size and for the fake pleasure I'd bought her.

Fuck, I couldn't take it. I had to teach her a lesson. I had to punish her.

I grabbed her by the throat, dragging her to the bathroom as I filled the bathtub. She wouldn't stop apologising, tears streamed down her cheeks, and the craziest thing happened.

The more she sobbed.

The harder my cock became.

I dunked her head under the water, holding it in place. Her body jerked against the porcelain until she couldn't take it anymore. Then I let her breathe—but only when I slid myself back inside her.

16th of September 2016

Dear Diary,