Chapter 74
Since that mistaken night, Amanda had prayed to whover could answer her cries to never see Marcus again. The mistake had been made. She had intertwined herself with another man who wasn’t her husband.
Amanda left that motel after Marcus had her again, clutching sha and regret as she ran out. After getting to her room, she spent hours under the shower, scrubbing her skin raw, hoping it would clean and erase the bad mory. Her skin reddened and softened from scrubbing, but that didn’t help with the revolt she was feeling.
Then so days later, she received a call from an unknown number, and she jumped, having a bad feeling. She looked at the unknown number as her phone buzzed repeatedly until she picked it up. Her chest tightened the mont she heard his voice.
"Miss ?" Marcus asked, voice laced with mockery.
Amanda felt a heavy lump in her throat as she gripped her phone. She didn’t know how to respond, no words coming out of her mouth as she quickly ended the call. She clutched her phone, looking at the number, then blocked it imdiately. Pacing in her room, her thoughts spiraled. How did he get her number? They didn’t exchange numbers that night. Why did she let her body override her rational thoughts? She bit her fingers anxiously, and throughout that day, she didn’t touch her phone.
Then the next day, Amanda received a ssage from an unknown number again, and attached to it was a once-view video. Amanda swallowed and tapped on it. Her breath caught in her throat because the video was her.
On her back, moaning, her legs wrapped around Marcus, her face contorted in pleasure, his na a broken gasp from her lips, bobbing down on him like a wanton. Amanda slamd the phone down and whipped her head around in panic, scared that soone saw or heard her illicit, lewd sounds.
God! God, her heart slamd against her chest. She wanted to scream as she picked her phone back up, the screen slightly cracked, as her fingers hovered and she typed with trembling hands. What do you want?
The reply ca so hours later, by which ti she had nearly uprooted all the hair on her head from anxiety and waiting. "et at the hotel on Great Street. Room 108."
Amanda didn’t want to go, every fiber in her body screaming not to, yet she couldn’t disobey. The video mustn’t be released, or else she was done. She had to go, to know what he wanted.
When she got to the address, she saw Marcus already naked on the bed with a smug grin as he clicked on his phone and moaning sounds ca out. Amanda squeaked, fiddling with her fingers as she waited for Marcus.
Marcus smirked without speaking, gestured with his index finger for Amanda to co closer, and ordered her to strip. Amanda’s hands trembled as she undressed, her body shaking. He pointed to the bed and told her to bend over, mounting her like an animal—no warmth, no lube, no affection. It hurt—her heart, her head, everything. He pounded her with pure control, pure domination, and pure sadism.
And since then, it has beco a routine. Marcus called her out anyti, anywhere, to et him and mounted her, ordering her to do all kinds of monstrous things for his twisted desires. Amanda couldn’t refute. He would call and threaten her.
She would show up in any dress he asked for, offer her body like a doll, and leave alone feeling filthier each ti. And she fucking liked it, which always edged him again and again. Yet when she got back to her room, she scrubbed and scrubbed until she couldn’t feel her skin anymore.
And every ti she wanted to fight back, say no, resist—he would remind her of the video, punish her, and humiliate her.
"Your daddy would be so proud to see this side of you," he’d whisper cruelly in her ear. "And your husband? Maybe he’ll finally see how dirty you are for the attention you crave." Then he’d continue biting, thrusting, and hitting.
Then it got worse. Marcus wasn’t satisfied with sex anymore. He started asking for money—large sums. He would send account details and give ultimatums. Any delay, he said, and I’ll send it to your father. Or your precious husband. And fuck you till you won’t feel your hole, or better yet, share your stinking ass with my friends.
Amanda could feel her bank account drying. The man was bleeding her dry. He was controlling every aspect of her life, collected her credit card, checked her phone in case she had told anyone. Marcus cornered her, trapped her so she couldn’t even press her phone freely.
Her phone quickly beca her prison. It was like he was tracking her, spying and stalking her.
Every vibration always sent her heart into a spiral.
Buzz.
Transfer two thousand before midnight.
Buzz.
Don’t test , whore.
Buzz.
You’re my slave until I say otherwise.
Buzz.
Do you want to co down there to fuck you in front of your husband?
Amanda’s throat tightened. She wanted to scream, to run away, to erase what had happened—but she knew it was impossible. She had no choice but to nod at Marcus’s demands.
Aaron and her father mustn’t know about the secret. Her life would be over. Yet she had mastered the art of the poker face—smile and head high to hide it, to hide behind the model, posh façade.
.
At the family dinner a day before their vacation, Amanda sat between her father and Aaron. Her father had called for her and her husband to visit before traveling, and here she was, her stomach a ball of nerves when her father kept throwing her concerned glances, gently touching her shoulder or asking if she was tired.
While Aaron didn’t even bat an eyelash and continued cutting and eating his steak, Amanda laughed awkwardly. "Everything is fine," she whispered each ti with a forced smile, stabbing at her food without appetite. Her stomach couldn’t hold food.
But nothing was fine. She was jumpy and couldn’t maintain eye contact.
Her mind was drowning.
How long could she keep this up?
Marcus wasn’t just blackmailing her now.
He was breaking her. Bit by bit.
That night, Amanda paced her room alone, the walls closing in around her. Her brain throbbed from overthinking. Her heartbeat was erratic. Her body felt foreign, no longer hers. She felt caged and suffocated.
There was no one she could talk to because she didn’t know if Marcus would be listening. Her father would be devastated. And Aaron would hesitate to break the sham she called a marriage.
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