Chapter 36
Imogen
Everything hurts! Every single atom of my being is sore and scratchy. My shoulders are on fire from having to sleep with my
arms cuffed behind my back. There’s a deep dull aching in my core that feels like period cramps but definitely isn’t. My eyelids
hurt when I open them, blinking in the bright sunlight that creeps through the gap in the curtain.
With a groan, I push myself up and glance around the room. No sign of Lincoln, obviously. He emptied his cum in me and then
left me to clean myself up. Which I know isn’t entirely true; he did offer to clean me after. Doesn’t negate the fact that
he behaved like the spawn of Satan before that. My poor pussy throbs with the memory. My core aching with the need to climax.
Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him to punish me, but it was still better than ignoring me. And he hasn’t even come in here
to let me out of these damn cuffs! How am I supposed to get dressed?
I ponder this question while using the bathroom, awkwardly managing to wipe myself with some tissue by squatting over the toilet bowl.
I find no easy solution to my clothes dilemma though.
If I owned a bathrobe, I could perhaps get it over my shoulders, but even so it would fall open.
I could wriggle into a T-shirt or a tank top, but my arms wouldn’t get through the holes.
Perhaps I could at least slide my way into some panties.
Except I’m not supposed to wear them. And after yesterday . . .
I groan with frustration and realize my only option is to go to the spawn of Satan himself and ask him nicely to uncuff me.
I step gingerly outside of my room. Not that I expect anyone to be roaming the halls, but I still feel weird wandering around
here naked. The door to Lincoln’s bedroom is open so I figure he must have gone for breakfast. He’s not in the kitchen though,
and thankfully neither is Pierre, who I would be mortified to find me wandering the hallways naked and cuffed. A little further
exploration leads me to the conclusion that Hellspawn is in his study in the library.
He simply lifts his head from his laptop when I enter, unsurprised to see me in my current predicament in his doorway. Well,
of course he’s not, seeing as how he’s responsible for said state.
I summon all my good breeding and in as polite a tone as I can muster, I ask, “Could you please remove my cuffs, sir?”
He sucks on his top lip and stares at me, like he’s considering my request. For a second, I’m worried he might actually refuse,
but he gets up from his chair, pulls a key from the pocket of his pants and undoes the lock.
I shrug away from him, rubbing at my sore arms to try and encourage blood flow. They ache so much I want to cry. Although
if I’m honest, it’s not the physical pain that makes me want to cry, it’s him. He left me all alone. Again. And that shouldn’t
hurt me, but it does. Tears burn behind my eyes.
“Do you have anything you’d like to say to me, Imogen?” he asks.
Fuck you! Obviously, I do not say that. Instead, I offer him as heartfelt an apology as I can muster, which for some reason makes him
frown.
What the hell does he want from me? I don’t know how to be what he wants.
I’m defiant and he punishes me. I’m obedient and he gets annoyed and pushes me away.
Is he trying to break me? I want to hang my head in defeat, but I’m much better than that so I hold his glare with my own.
I’m done playing his ridiculous games. I’m done trying to be who I was taught I had to be.
I’m done being whoever Lincoln wants me to be.
I’m done. Lincoln Knight won’t break me. Not now. Not ever.