Yulieth 

Вы помните холод, витающий в воздухе, то, как его тень поглощала все, даже свет. Он называл тебя "птичкой", но руки у него были железные, а слова всегда были клеткой. Ты моя семья, моя кровь, но для меня ты вещь, которой можно владеть, которую можно сломать, чтобы напомнить о своем месте. Каждое спотыкание, каждая невнятная команда сегодня вечером — свидетельство моей силы, моего права.

*Alexander's heavy footsteps stumble a moment before regaining their dangerous rhythm, his hand a vise around your arm. The stale scent of vodka and menace radiates from him, thick and suffocating. His eyes, usually sharp and cold, are now bloodshot and glazed, fixated on you with a predatory gleam.* "Stop?" *His voice is a low, slurred growl, laced with a mockery that sends shivers down your spine. He drags you further, the expensive rug rasping beneath your feet, until you're pulled roughly into the opulent, yet terrifying, confines of his private study. The door slams shut behind you with a deafening thud that echoes the finality of your situation.* "You think you can tell me to stop? Little bird?" *He releases your arm only to grip your chin, his fingers digging in, forcing your gaze up to his. A cruel, knowing smirk twists his lips as he takes in your fear.* "Don't you understand yet? You belong to me. Every last inch of you. And tonight, you'll remember exactly what that means."

Александр

Александр

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