Good Girl
Chapter 37
Good Girl
Isabella
I swallow hard, feeling a surge of fear rise within me. I know I’ve made a grave mistake, one that I will undoubtedly pay for dearly. But as I gaze up at Aslanov’s impassive face, I can’t help but wonder what punishment he has in store for me. I tried to talk to him, but he shushed me down.
I nervously fiddle with my fingers as after just 10 minutes we reach the porch again. So much anxiety fills me. He unlocks the car door, it swings open with force, the cold air coming in with him. Not a second later, he’s at my door, grabbing me by the upper arm while slamming the door shut behind me. His boots echo against the floor, as he drags me inside the house. I whimper against his strong hold. I know I won’t be able to escape from his reach and something warm inside of me doesn’t want to. When we reach the living room of the house, he pulls the jacket off me and throws it on the floor.
Pointing at my shoes I take them off, my fingers shaking while untying the laces. He doesn’t move, nor remove his coat or shoes. As I rise to my full height again, I’m now even smaller than before.
Without another word, Aslanov reaches out and grabs me by the neck, his grip unyielding. He pulls me to my feet and leads me out of the room, his steps purposeful and determined.
As we walk through the silent halls of the mansion, a sense of dread settles over me like a heavy blanket. I know that whatever awaits me on the other side of that door will be nothing short of a nightmare. As he pushes open the door and leads me into the darkness beyond, I steel myself for whatever fate may await me, knowing that I am powerless to escape the clutches of a man like Aslanov. He leads me down a dimly lit corridor, the shadows seeming to dance around us like malevolent spirits. I can feel the weight of his gaze burning into my back, a constant reminder of the gravity of my transgression.
Finally, we reach a heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway. Aslanov pushes it open without hesitation, revealing a dimly lit room beyond. My heart pounds in my chest as I step inside, the air heavy with anticipation. I swallow my own heart down. It’s his room. It’s big and separated into three sections: a bedroom, an office, and a luxurious black bathroom. The click of the door behind me makes my back hairs stand up straight as it is followed by a locked sound. He locked the door. Suddenly the cold of the tile floor rushes through my veins.
I came here willingly, and I have a feeling that nothing will stop this man from doing everything he pleases to me. His words linger in my head. ‘Once you’ve chosen you can crawl, cry, and beg all you want but nothing will stop me.’
“I am so fucking done with your behavior.”
“I’m so-”
His voice cuts me off immediately. “Quiet, you do not get to speak unless I grant you permission.”
My teeth click shut.
He walks around me like I’m the next prey he is about to catch. His cologne fills the room, and his tattoos look more black than normal under the dimly lit room. Dangerous, so very dangerous.
“I know you want to be a good girl for me, yet you act like a fucking brat.”
I’m about to get it. He’s going to murder me in cold blood. His tone is laced with venom. But the way he calls me a good girl sends heat down my body.
As he circles around me, his presence feels suffocating, like the air in the room is thick with tension. I can feel his gaze, weighing me down, dissecting me with every step he takes. My heart races, a wild drumbeat echoing in my chest. His words, dripping with both authority and desire, send shivers down my spine. I swallow hard, trying to push down the fear that threatens to consume me. But beneath the fear, there’s a flicker of something else—an inexplicable pull toward him, a dangerous allure that I can’t deny. With each passing moment, the space between us narrows, until finally, he stands before me, his eyes boring into mine with a predatory intensity. I can’t look away, can’t escape the magnetic force drawing me closer to him.
And then, with a voice as smooth as silk and as sharp as a blade, he whispers, “Now, show me just how good you can be. And perhaps I’ll reduce your punishment.” As his words hang in the air, a wave of anticipation crashes over me, mingling with the fear that courses through my veins. His proximity is overwhelming, his presence dominating the room like a predator staking its claim. I can feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on me, urging me to comply, to surrender to his will. My mind races, searching for a way out, a shred of defiance to cling to, but all I find is the undeniable pull of submission . I know what he wants.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, I lower myself to my knees, the cool tile biting into my skin as I sink before him. His gaze is unwavering, dark, and intense, stripping away any pretense of resistance. With a flicker of something primal in his eyes, he reaches out, tracing a finger along the curve of my jaw, sending sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. I shiver, unable to tear my gaze away from his, transfixed by the raw hunger burning within them. And then, without a word, he leans in close, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, “ That’s a good girl .” He pushes my gaze towards the ground. “Respect is earned. Maybe by the end of this, you can look me in the eyes again.”
As I sit there, my gaze fixed on the floor, he begins to speak, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
“You disappoint me,” he says, his tone heavy with reproach. My stomach starts to feel sick as he pronounces those words. “You may speak now.”
Feeling the weight of his disappointment settle like a stone in the pit of my stomach. “I…I’m sorry,” I mumble, unable to meet his gaze.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” he replies, his voice stern, cutting me off.
I swallow hard, feeling a surge of guilt wash over me. “I didn’t mean to,” I protested weakly. “I just…”
“Just what?” he interrupts, his tone sharp. “Just thought you could do as you pleased?”
I shake my head. His boots click against the floor as he walks around me. I don’t dare to take my eyes off the floor. For a minute his presence feels further away, giving me space to breathe. The room echoes the sound of a bottle opening and liquid being poured.
“Sneaking out, leaving the house. Something bad could have happened, even with Dominik.”
Not long after his presence returns behind me. Does he care? The thought fills me from within like a warm summer breeze. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. He walks behind me before speaking again.
“Maybe you have forgotten who I am?”
I tremble lightly at his tone. His warm breath comes close to my ear, “Do not move an inch.” Goosebumps appear everywhere on my pale skin. His presence is gone after a minute, leaving me completely alone.
Reminders of the past flow in my mind as his question lingers through my mind. Images of him in prison come back to life and so do the images of me in the cell he held me in. I better behave. As I kneel there, the minutes into hours, the ache in my knees grows more pronounced with each passing moment. But still, he remains indifferent, focused solely on his work as if I were nothing more than a mere afterthought. It has given me a bellyache. I feel guilty. I feel like a disappointment. He’s manipulating me because the sole thing I crave right now is his touch or even his attention. And that’s exactly what he planned. And even though I’m aware of it, I can’t shake the feeling and want to get away. His words hit me like a punch to the gut, the sting of his rejection burning like a branding iron against my skin. And as I sit there, alone and forgotten in the corner of his room, regret fills me for the action I have committed.
As the hours pass, I remain in my designated spot, my knees growing stiff and sore with each passing moment. Despite the discomfort, I dare not move, determined to prove my obedience and earn back his favor. His Russian voice occasionally lingers through the room as he speaks on the phone. But there is no attention towards me at all.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I hear his footsteps approaching. My heart leaps in my chest as he stands before me, his presence looming over me like a shadow. And then, to my surprise, I feel his hand gently brush against my head, his touch sending shivers down my spine. It’s a small gesture, but it fills me with a sense of warmth and reassurance, a silent acknowledgment of my efforts to please him. And I lean into it.
“You have done well,” he says softly, his voice a low rumble that sends a wave of relief washing over me. Butterflies fly in my stomach as I hear his words, a mixture of gratitude and longing swirling within me. But sure enough, after a moment’s hesitation, he gestures for me to rise. With a beating heart, I push myself to my feet, every muscle protesting the movement. Everything hurts, my knees are barely able to hold my body up. I don’t meet his eyes. I’m not sure I have earned that.
“Back to your room,” he suddenly commands, his voice firm but not unkind. I nod with irritation, unable to meet his gaze as I turn to leave, the ache in my heart growing with each step.
Before I open the door and drag myself out of his room I hesitantly wait.
My stomach twitches as I look at the door handle, he’s denying me.
“No.”
The moment the door slams shut, I feel it—his presence closing in around me, suffocating and oppressive. Before I can react, he pushes me hard against the cold, unyielding wood, his body pressing into mine, trapping me. His grip on my red ponytail is brutal as he yanks my head back, forcing my eyes to meet his. I can’t look away.
His fingers tighten around my hair, pulling it sharply, and the sting makes tears well up in my eyes. I try to fight it, to pull away, but I can’t—his hold is unbreakable. I whimper, the pain sharp, but it’s his eyes I can’t escape. He’s so close now, his breath hot on my face, and my lips tremble under his gaze.
I hate this—hate how vulnerable I feel in this moment, how he’s reduced me to this. But I can’t let him see my fear.
“You don’t get to just send me away like that,” I hiss, my voice barely above a whisper. My body is trembling, but I refuse to give in. Another whimper escapes my mouth, and I curse myself for it.
His mouth hovers dangerously close to mine, and I feel the heat radiating off him. “It’s with the best intentions for you,” he says, and the cold, calculated tone makes my blood run cold.
“Don’t make me laugh,” I manage to choke out, still trying to fight, trying to push against him, but it’s useless. I can’t break free. His grip tightens even more, his fingers like iron around my ponytail.
“You do nothing with good intentions for anyone but yourself,” I hear him growl, and the words cut through me like a blade.
An evil smirk plays on his lips as the moonlight glows into his piercing green eyes. My body vibrates with heat. With one swift move, he presses a blade against my throat while his body presses me into the door. His dark silhouette leans over me like a dark shadow. “Think twice before opening your mouth again, is this what you want?” My pulse quickens. “I’m not your gentle romance boyfriend from the little princess books you have read.”
“I’m shocked,” I state sarcastically as his eyebrows raise and a wider evil smile exposes on his lips, his dimples appear and his eyes gleam in the dark.
“Who says I even want you?” The words leave my lips way sooner than they get to be processed in my head.
Now the smile turns into a laugh, “well…well…really?”
He connects the tip of the blade with my chin, positioning it so if I open my mouth, it will cut me. His face comes close, inches away from mine.
“If I put my hand up this skirt,” he pauses while letting go of my ponytail . “How wet would you be for me?”
My cheeks stain red and there is no denying what can be felt. An awful redness spreads on my face, I can just feel the blood pumping through my skin. His hand reaches lower without him ever breaking eye contact with me. My chin is forced in place by the blade, making it impossible for me to move my gaze away from his. His fingers leave a trail on my skin, slowly reaching under my skirt. His finger presses against my black lace panties.
“You’re soaked and I haven’t even touched you yet solnyshko.”
I whimper against his touch. Suddenly he spins me around while throwing the knife onto the floor. My back presses against him and his hand wraps around my throat from behind. My hands immediately fly up to his hand and arm cutting off my airway. His hand doesn’t budge a little as I try to push it away. His grip is like stone.
Out of nowhere, a knock on the door is heard and Aslanov’s hand goes from my throat to my mouth. I struggle against his grasp as his lips come near my ear, “shh, silence .”
Casually he answers to the voice on the other side of the door. It’s a male voice but I have no idea what they are saying. Aslanov’s other free hand reaches down towards my stomach and further. His hand finds its way into my panties and a finger presses against my slit. I go still as he clamps my mouth shut, Russian sentences coming out of his mouth close to my ear as he’s talking to the person outside the door. As he speaks a finger enters me. A muffled sound leaves my lips, stopped by his hand. His finger slips in and out, causing me to burn with arousal. Not much later he adds another finger, and my moans become louder into his inked stained hand.
A couple of minutes later the conversation dies and Aslanov’s hand dissolves from my mouth back to my throat. I whimper, filled with lust as he presses me against his back. He’s hard.
“Feel what you do to me, “he mumbles in my ear.
His grip is so strong that it cuts off most of my air, and I’m unable to answer. I try to catch my breath. He walks me over to his bed, laced with black silk sheets. Precisely how I imagined his bedroom to look like. Once we reach the bed he lets go of me, pushing me onto it. Immediately he hovers over me, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the mattress above my head.
His gaze remains locked onto mine, an unspoken command in his eyes, as he secures my wrists with one hand. With the other, he reaches for his tie—a familiar black silk tie that I’ve seen him wear countless times. The sight of it sends a shiver down my spine. He loosens the fabric with practiced ease, then begins to bind my wrists to the headboard with deliberate precision. Each knot tightens my pulse, the restraint both thrilling and terrifying.
My hair spills out around me, a wild halo framing my flushed face. My skin is stained a deep red from the heat of our earlier moments, and my breath comes in uneven gasps. His thumb brushes across my lips, the cool metal of his rings grazing my skin. There’s a gentleness to his touch that contrasts sharply with the power he exerts, a paradox that leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.
My lips part instinctively, and when his thumb edges into my mouth, I wrap my lips around it, sucking lightly. His gaze darkens, a flicker of something dangerous passing through his eyes. A few seconds pass, thick with tension, before he pulls away and rises from the bed, leaving me bound and helpless.
He strides into the adjacent room, and I’m left staring at the ceiling, my heart pounding in my chest. When he returns, there’s nothing in his hands, but as he turns to remove his coat, I catch a glimpse of something shiny in his pocket—a knife. My stomach twists with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Aslanov drapes his coat over the chair beside the bed, then begins unbuttoning his black shirt. My eyes are drawn to his chest, where each undone button reveals more of the intricate tattoos that cover his skin. His body is a masterpiece of ink and muscle, each design telling a story that I can’t quite decipher. When he’s finished, he leaves the shirt open, the fabric hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, teasing me with the promise of what lies beneath.
He’s so fucking powerful, every inch of him exuding dominance and control. The air between us thickens with unspoken tension as our eyes remain locked, the silence charged with anticipation. I am so intimate with him, that I will know every detail of his body.
Aslanov clicks his tongue, a small sound that feels like a command in the oppressive quiet. He moves closer, his presence overwhelming as he looms above me once more. With a swift motion, he draws the knife from his pocket, the blade catching the moonlight as he slices through my shirt in one fluid movement. The fabric falls away, revealing my black lace bralette, and a faint, unreadable expression flickers in his eyes before disappearing.
His gaze lingers on my exposed skin, taking in the delicate lace that barely covers me. The air feels electric, every nerve in my body attuned to his slightest movement. He slides the skirt down my legs, the roughness of his hands a stark contrast to the soft fabric as it pools on the floor.
Then, his hand pauses between my legs, his fingers hooking the edge of my panties and pushing them aside. His thumb finds my sensitive clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The touch sends a jolt of pleasure through me, my vision blurring as the intensity of the moment overwhelms my senses. All of it melds together in a heady mix of fear, desire, and submission. My vision hazes.
Aslanov
So help me God.
She’s more beautiful than I ever allowed myself to imagine. Her long, fiery red hair fans out across the black silk pillow, a stark contrast that makes her look even more ethereal, like a forbidden vision come to life. Her body arches at my touch, a delicate rose unfurling in the dark, each breath she takes pulling me deeper into a place I should never have ventured.
She has no idea what she’s done to me.
I’ve broken my own rules for her. From the moment our eyes met in that cold, sterile prison, I knew I was stepping onto dangerous ground. She was just another mark, another pawn in a game I’ve played a thousand times before. But the second she looked up at me with those wide, brown eyes, everything changed. I should’ve walked away then. I should’ve let someone else deal with her.
But I couldn’t.
Now, here she is, in my bed, her sweet moans filling the room like a siren’s song, calling to the darkest parts of me. The memory of her on her knees, looking up at me with a mix of fear and something else—something darker—has etched itself into my mind. It’s like a brand, seared so deep beneath my inked skin that no amount of time will ever remove it.
I shouldn’t want this.
But I can’t stop.
Her body responds to every touch, every movement of my fingers as I rub her aching clit. She’s soft and yielding under me, completely unaware of the war raging inside my head. Bending down, I breathe in her scent, a mixture of innocence and something sweeter, something just for me. I bite back the groan that threatens to escape, swallowing the primal urge that rises within me.
The need to mark her, to make her mine, is overwhelming. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s a raw, brutal desire to claim her in a way that will ruin her for anyone else, a way that will ensure she’s mine, even if she doesn’t want to be. The thought sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine, my control slipping further away with every second.
She stirs beneath me, her body responding to my touch in ways that drive me to the brink of madness. I’ve been with countless women, used them, discarded them. But this one…this one is different. She’s wormed her way under my skin, wrapped herself around the parts of me that I’ve kept locked away for years.
I want to mark her, to leave a piece of myself on her soul, something that will never fade. So that even if she walks away from me, even if she tries to forget, she’ll always carry this moment with her.
Isabella
I pull at the binds at my wrists as his fingers rub the most sensitive spot. It feels way too good. This is so wrong; he’s going to destroy me. Yet every fiber of my being responds when he touches me. He’s my first, I’ve always kept my distance from men. I have never been interested either. It all changed once he came along, he heightened my senses in ways I never thought were possible.
Suddenly my bralette snaps open. I gasp as his hot mouth collides with my nipple. All the same while his other hand works on my clit. My stomach flips an inferno of lust raging through my middle and scorching up my spine. I move my hips towards his fingers, wanting more. Craving more, a frustrated groan fills me. I can feel his mouth curl up in a smirk against my raw and hot skin, “where are your manners, Izabella?” Not here .
His hot breath touches my skin, his Russian accent intoxicates me from inside.
“Please, more.”
I don’t need to see his face to know he’s looking at me like the Devil. The problem was that I summoned him myself. I let him in myself.
“Say my name solnyshko.” His voice is raw and his touch ignites.
The hold on my body roughens as he circles my clit and nipple.
“A-Aslanov, please.”
With one last kiss on my breast, his face comes inches closer to mine. My breath gets coughing up in my throat at the sight of meeting him ever so close. His hand wraps around my throat and suddenly two of his fingers enter me, rough. A loud moan escapes my throat, it’s primal. His face is inches away from mine as his hot breath drifts into my face, “I should kill you for making me feel this way.”
His fingers enter me, in, and out. Multiple times, faster and faster. My breath becomes faster, and my hips rise to his touch. It’s not enough. I need more of him. I’m a moaning mess at this point, his hands are rough. His entire hand covers my neck, it’s so much bigger that he could snap my neck within one second. The thought doesn’t last long as he ups the speed, and my body vibrates. My arousal drips down my tights. I am nothing but sensation, lost in a rhythm that is both too much and not enough. I’m near my climax.
Lost in the heat of the moment, I surrender myself to him completely, giving in to the primal hunger that courses through my veins. His hands roam over my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he claims me as his own in the most primal of ways. There’s a roughness to his movements, a primal urgency that sends a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through me. He’s biting my neck softly, leaving bruises in their wake as he claims me as his own. As I’m about to reach my climax, he stops.
His teeth click, “Not so fast love, welcome to your punishment .”