Dangerous Beginnings (The Beginnings Duet #1)

Chains of Desire

Chapter 51

Chains of Desire

Isabella

As we get into the car, a heavy silence descends upon us like a suffocating blanket. My heart pounds in my chest, the alcohol coursing through my veins amplifying my anxiety. I steal a glance at Aslanov, but his expression remains inscrutable, his features carved from stone.

The car glides through the streets of Moscow, the city lights casting eerie shadows across the interior. My mind races with a thousand questions, but I know better than to voice them in the oppressive silence that surrounds us.

Just when I think we’re headed back to the mansion, the car suddenly veers off course, turning left into the dense woods that border the outskirts of the city. My breath catches in my throat as a sense of dread washes over me like a tidal wave. Fuck .

My fingers tremble as I grip the edge of my seat, my eyes darting nervously to the dark expanse of trees outside the window. The silence in the car is deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic beat of my heart.

Aslanov’s gaze remains fixed on the road ahead, his hands steady on the steering wheel. His silence is suffocating, his intentions veiled behind a mask of impassivity. My mind races with fear and anticipation, my thoughts consumed by the unknown. The car continues to wind its way through the labyrinth of trees, the darkness closing in around us like a vice. My pulse quickens with each passing moment, my senses heightened to the point of overload. And then, just when I fear I can’t bear the tension any longer, the car comes to a stop in a small clearing deep within the woods.

As the car comes to a halt in the heart of the dense forest, my eyes widen as I take in my surroundings. To my right, nestled among the towering trees, stands a rustic wooden cabin overlooking a serene lake. The scene before me is both beautiful and haunting, the eerie silence of the forest lending an air of mystery to the secluded spot. This is not the mansion. My heart races with a mixture of fear and fascination as I realize I’ve never been here before. I cast a hesitant glance at Aslanov, but his expression remains unreadable as he steps out of the car and strides around to my side.

With a silent command, he opens the car door, his gaze fixed on me with a silent intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

His hand wraps around my throat, applying light pressure as he pushes me against the leather car seat.

“Are you scared of me?” His lips were so dangerously close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I hesitantly shake my head. “Say it.” His command makes my hair stand up straight, yet my mouth speaks for me.

“I am not scared of you.” Barely above a whisper. But I am. He doesn’t move, instead he watches me. I breathe out, “What’s stopping you?” A mere breath of a whisper.

“Our agreement, your consent .” I stare at him in disbelief, and I swallow. No Isabella, do not, I repeat; do not give him your consent.

A stupid grin appears on his face, while his eyes darken a little. My breath quickens and my heart rate rises. He seems to notice the war within my head, and he’s winning, again. His finger runs along my jaw.

“That’s it, “he mumbles, “Give into it.”

A full-body shiver runs down my spine and back up. The cold air hits my face. But the edge is gone, alcohol courses through my blood. I taste fear on my tongue like a bad omen. I whisper the omen, my voice barely above a breathless murmur. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He clarifies.

I stare at him. “You have my consent.”

His lips curve into an evil smile, a silent acknowledgment of his victory over me. His hot breath comes near my ear. “You should have never given me that consent.” He applies more pressure on my neck, “I am now able to do terrible, awful things to you.” I shiver, lips trembling.

My heart pounds in my chest as I watch Aslanov walk to the back of the car, the trunk. I watch him in the viewfinder, he retrieves zip ties. My breath catches in my throat as a sense of dread washes over me.

When he comes back, I offer no resistance as he secures my wrists and then ankles with ruthless efficiency, the plastic biting into my skin with each tight loop.

A whimper escapes my lips as he turns me around, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he tightens them even further. A painful cry echoes from my lips. But the cry isn’t long heard as a piece of tape covers my dry lips and another one. I whimper into the tape.

I feel exposed and vulnerable, utterly at his mercy as he effortlessly lifts me over his shoulder, my body hanging limply against his back. I widen my eyes as he carries me like a bag of potatoes towards the cabin. My breath picks up and I wonder if the Devil will kill me tonight—in pleasurable ways. We enter the cabin, and a warmth washes over me, the fireplace is burning.

“Scared yet?” His voice cuts through the silence like a knife, his eyes ablaze with a cruel intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

As he carries me into the cabin, I know that I am about to confront the true extent of his power—and the depths of my own fear.

He positions me onto a chair in the center of the dimly lit cabin next to the fireplace, a shiver courses through my spine despite the heat of the fire, my every instinct screaming for escape. With a predatory grace, he approaches me, his finger tracing the curve of my jaw with a chilling tenderness that belies the darkness lurking within him.

But as he moves behind me, his touch turns cruel, his fingers gripping my ponytail with a force that sends waves of pain radiating through my skull. I scream into the tape, the sound muffled by its suffocating grip as I struggle against my restraints.

With a sinister calmness , he locks the door and closes all the blinds, casting the cabin into an eerie darkness that mirrors the depths of his twisted desires. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the steady rhythm of his boots against the wooden floor, each step a chilling reminder of the predator that lurks within.

The last window closes with a loud bang, and I flinch. No longer able to suppress some of the fear inside of me. Trapped in the suffocating confines of the cabin, my heart races with a primal fear, my every breath a desperate plea for salvation from the darkness that threatens to consume me whole.

With deliberate slowness, he drags a chair across the wooden floor, the scraping sound echoing through the eerie silence of the cabin. Positioning it directly in front of where I am sitting, he settles into the seat with predatory grace, his knees spread wide in a commanding stance.

With a cold intensity in his eyes, he reaches out and pulls my chair closer to his own, the movement so deliberate and calm. Our faces are mere inches apart, I can feel the heat radiating from his body, the air thick with tension and anticipation. Locked in his gaze, my breath catches in my throat.

“You see, Isabella,” he begins, his voice low and menacing, “fear is such a fascinating thing. It has the power to strip away everything—your confidence, your strength, your very sense of self.” My breath catches in my throat as his words wash over me, the weight of his dominance pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. “But it’s not just fear that intrigues me,” Aslanov continues, his eyes blazing with a dangerous intensity. “It’s the way people respond to it. The way it twists and contorts them, bending them to my will.” With a cruel smile, he reaches out and traces a finger along my jawline, yet I don’t turn my face away. “You, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with malice, “are no exception. I daresay you might be more susceptible than most.”

This time I turn my face away, scrunching the bridge of my nose. His hand finds my jaw and with one swift pull, he makes eye contact with me once more. “Eyes on me Isabella,” he pauses, “eyes on the criminal that’s going to make you cum over and over again until it becomes torture.” Oh my. A rash of heat runs up my neck. A shiver of anticipation races down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I can neither deny nor control.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he hoists me over his shoulder again and carries me into a darkened room, my body limps with fear and resignation. The sound of my muffled whimpering fills the air as he navigates through the shadows, his steps echoing against the wooden floorboards.

Upon reaching the room, he sets me down gently, his touch almost tender against my skin. But any semblance of gentleness is quickly shattered as he secures my wrists to the hook dangling from the ceiling, leaving me suspended in the darkness like a trapped bird.

My breath catches in my throat as I hang there, my body trembling with the effort to maintain my balance on tiptoe. My heart pounds in my chest, the weight of my captivity pressing down on me with suffocating force.

With a cruel smile, he produces a sharp blade and cuts through the zip ties binding my ankles, freeing my legs with a swift motion. He walks around me, so eerily calm and slow.

I can feel the heat of his body pressed against my back, his presence comforting yet commanding presence that left me feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated. With each breath, I can feel the tension building between us, the anticipation of what was to come sending a shiver down my spine.

Aslanov’s hands deftly move to remove his tie, the smooth silk fabric sliding through his fingers and the sound lingering through the room. With a practiced motion, he places the tie over my eyes, the luxurious material enveloping me in darkness. It smells like him, it’s intoxicating.

I can feel his presence behind me, his warmth radiating against my skin as he secures the tie in place. I lean in against him until he disappears from behind me, his body heat leaving me. Suddenly very aware of the situation I’m in, my breathing picks up. My toes curl on the wooden floor under me, trying to remain balanced.

After a silence the tape is ripped from my mouth with a swift motion, his fingers brush against my skin with a possessive grip. I winch as the adhesive pulls at my skin, my lips tingling with the sudden rush of sensation.

“Quiet.”

My mouth immediately clasp shut.

“I only want to hear your whimpers, moans, and your cries of fucking submission.”

My lip trembles, where can I sign up for that mental asylum?

Suddenly his hands tug at the dress I’m wearing, slowly moving it down towards my ankles, leaving it on the floor. I can feel him kneel in front of me. And as he slowly comes back up his hand traces my inner thigh. I let my head fall back and curl my toes at the sensation. This is the worst sin I’m going to commit, and I’m aroused by that thought.

Aslanov’s touch sends waves of pleasure coursing through my body, igniting a fire deep within me that threatens to consume me entirely. With each tantalizing caress, my breath hitches in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest as desire courses through my veins. And just before my heated core, he stops, pulling his hand away. I can feel the heat of his body lingering in the air, his presence a potent reminder of the power he holds over me.

“Having second thoughts Isabella?” A soft whimper escapes my mouth. “Bad girl,” he murmurs as he brushes his lips against my cheek.

“I’m not,” I murmur under my breath.

“There’s nowhere you could hide from me, I’d hunt you down.” And for that, I knew it was the truth. Shivers run down my body, causing goosebumps everywhere.

Aslanov’s voice cuts through the darkness again, low and commanding, as he speaks just inches from my ear. “ You’re mine ,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.

His words send a shiver down my spine, my heart racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, even though I can’t see him through the blindfold.

With deliberate slowness, he trails his fingertips along my exposed skin, tracing a path from my collarbone down to the curve of my hip. Each touch is calculated, designed to elicit a response from me, to make me squirm with anticipation. And I do.

But just as I begin to lose myself in the sensation, he pulls away, leaving me hanging on the edge of desire. “You want more?” he taunts, his voice dripping with malice.

“Yes,” I moan as his hand suddenly slaps my bare ass, hard. A yelp escapes my mouth as I bite my lips closed.

“Beg.” My heart rate drops. “And I’ll promise you that you’ll have to beg me harder for my touch than I’d ever had to beg you.” His lips are now pressed against my ear and my whole skin is covered in goosebumps.

Before I can respond, he leans in close, his lips brushing against mine in a tantalizing tease. My whole body trembles with need, craving more of his touch, more of his control.

But just as quickly as he initiates the kiss, he pulls away, leaving me breathless and wanting. “You want me, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice a rough lure. “How desperate are you exactly?”

A frustrated scream fills the room…he is mimicking me from the time I suppressed him in the cell. And it fucking backfires. I should have known that action wasn’t going to be left unpunished. I grit my teeth together.

“Very.”

His lips trail down my neck. Aslanov’s voice cuts through the charged atmosphere, low and commanding.

“Beg, Isabella,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. My breath hitches in my throat, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and desire. I know that I should resist, that I should maintain some semblance of control. But now, all I want is his touch.

“I…” my voice barely above a whisper as I struggle to find the words. Aslanov’s lips leave my skin. “Beg,” he repeats, his voice firm and unwavering. It’s a demand. And it comes out harsh. A shiver runs down my spine as I feel myself succumbing to his command. My balance is barely there as I struggle to remain straight onto my toes that just touch the wooden floor.

With a shaky breath, I finally give in to the overwhelming need that courses through my veins.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling with desire. “Please, I need more.” He hums in response. “Please touch me.” I croak out.

Aslanov

After every man I have commanded and every plea I have heard in my lifetime so far, hers have satisfied me the most. Her submission could make me hard every single fucking time.

I don’t deserve her, but fuck it, I’m beyond caring. I’ve never been a good man anyway.

“Good girl,” I murmur, my voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down Isabella’s spine. And then, with a tantalizing tease, I brush my finger against the fabric of her panties, sliding them to the side with agonizing slowness. Isabella’s breath catches in her throat, her body trembling. She tries to steady herself and pulls onto the chain above her. The wooden floor beneath us creaks at her failed attempts to maintain balance. My fingers stop at her core, she is fucking soaking . A smirk creeps its way up on my lips. I look down at her, her tiny frame. Struggling. I push my fingers against her entrance but don’t move them inside yet. She tries to move towards me. My lips brush hers and as she tries to lean in to kiss me, I pull away. Isabella lets out a pleading cry , her voice filled with longing and desperation.

“Please, Aslanov…”

“I’ll take your plea into consideration, baby.” A frustrated cry leaves her lips.

I move towards the drawers in the room. Opening it up, retrieving a shiny tiny bullet vibrator. Closing the drawer, I turn my attention back to her. She’s struggling against the bonds. She’s searching for me. I walk back over to her, my boots making the wooden floor creak once more.

As I push aside her panties, exposing her most intimate parts, a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. I revel in the power I hold over her, in the way she responds so eagerly to my touch.

With practiced precision, I insert the vibrator, watching as her breath catches. Stepping back, I pour myself a glass of vodka, the clear liquid glinting in the dim light of the room. I take a slow sip, savoring the taste as I admire Isabella’s writhing form. She squirms, her skin flushed with desire.

Activating the vibrator with a flick of my wrist, I watch with dark amusement as Isabella’s moans fill the air, her body trembling with pleasure as she struggles to maintain her composure. Her toes curl and her head falls back.

And as I sit back in the chair, remote in hand, I take in the sight before me with satisfaction. Isabella is a vision of submission, her every movement a testament to the power I hold over her.

I recline in my chair, the leather creaking softly beneath me as I take a leisurely sip of vodka, my gaze fixed on Isabella’s writhing form. With a remote in hand, I watch her intently, a small smirk playing on my lips as I increase the intensity of the vibrations. I could watch her all night and never get tired.

But just as she’s on the brink of climax, I abruptly stop the vibrations, leaving her panting and desperate for more. A cruel smile dances across my features as I watch her struggle against her bonds. My cock growing with need.

Isabella

I’m a pleading and whimpering mess. He’s playing with me. I’m breathing fast as the vibrations come to a stop. I don’t feel Aslanov near me, but I can feel his gaze burning me behind the blindfold. My legs are shaking, and it is becoming hard to maintain balance. My panties are soaked .

With deliberate slowness, he rises from his chair and approaches me, his footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room. I can feel him come closer; every sense in my body is heightened. My breath catches in my throat as I sense his presence drawing nearer, my anticipation mounting with each passing moment.

“Please.”

“Please what?” Aslanov’s voice is low and husky, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Please touch me.”

He’s barely touched me and I’m yearning for it. I can feel his gaze on me, his taunting eyes. He circles me, his presence commanding the room as he moves.

“Such impatience,” he muses, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill down my spine. “But patience is a virtue, Izabella” My name rolls off his Russian tongue.

My breath hitches in my throat as I feel his warm breath laced with vodka against my skin, his proximity igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume me entirely. I can sense his power, his control, radiating off him in waves, and it both terrifies and excites me.

With a flick of his wrist, Aslanov resumes the vibrations. My hips instinctively buck against the sensation, a desperate moan escaping my lips as I struggle against the zip-tie. Aslanov’s chuckle fills the air, dark and intoxicating. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he taunts, his voice laced with amusement. “Are you suffering, my love ?”

I purse my lips. “Yes”, I whimper. Always truthful.

“Good,” he whispers back in my ear.