THE DARING ELLIE

He pulls me back forcefully, flinging me to the leather couch near his office walk-in closet. A loud scream escapes my lips as I land on the settee with a thud.


What the hell?

Before I can jerk myself up, he racks up before me, his coat and tie lying on the floor. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up above his elbows. I quaver, this time with immeasurable fear. I am a sobbing mess, and he is getting a kick out of my pain. I jerk my back up from the seat, kneeling on it.

"Damian..." I cry.


"You don't get to walk into my life and leave when you fucking please, you bitch!" He takes another step, and I stand on my heels on the couch—a horrible idea because, in a flicker, I'm hauled down to the floor, his fangs almost tearing the thin fabric of my dress.

As I desperately attempt to wrench his hand from my chest, it remains firmly in place, unmoved by my feeble efforts. Against this towering behemoth, I am nothing but a powerless speck, utterly dwarfed by his overwhelming strength. Tears stream down my face, punctuated by hiccups of fear and despair, as I struggle against the inevitability of my fate.


But then, in a moment that momentarily distracts me from my terror, his mouth parts, and he speaks words that send a shiver down my spine. His voice, like velvet wrapped in steel, whispers something so profoundly captivating that it pierces through the chaos of my mind and demands my full attention. It's as if his words possess a magical quality, simultaneously terrifying and mesmerizing, leaving me both enthralled and utterly petrified.

"I should fuck the truth out of your fucking mouth since you are adamant about playing dumb!" He roars, letting go of me and taking a step back. "On your knees!" He orders, his authoritative tone soft but cold, and I do the only thing that flashes in my mind: I nod my head and smirk bitterly.

On a very serious note, who does he think he is to bring Ellie Marie Ricaford to her knees? And for this unwarranted shit? Like, who the hell is he?

"Is that how much of a rotten dickhead you are?" The smirk fades, irritation plastering my face.

He remains silent while I wipe away these obscuring curtains of tears in my eyes so that I can see him clearly.

"You are the rotten one, you little dirty whore!" The sound of his shirt buttons jigging on the floor echoes as he rips them off, throwing them to the ground.

At this suffocating pivotal moment, when faced with the imposing figure before me, I should perhaps have reacted in a myriad of ways. I could have succumbed to fear, trembling, and pleading for mercy. I could have allowed myself to become entranced by the sight of his chiseled physique, his perfect abs taunting me with their allure. But instead, I chose none of those options.

With a defiance that borders on audacity, I find myself smirking in the face of danger. As he begins to lower his trousers, revealing a white boxer that clings to his massive, aroused member, I feel no intimidation. Instead, there's a twisted satisfaction in my smirk, a silent proclamation of my refusal to be cowed by his presence.

For me, there exists a limit to everything, a boundary beyond which I refuse to be pushed. I am Ellie Marrie Riccaford, steadfast in my identity and unyielding in my principles. I do not bend to the will of others, nor do I tolerate any form of disrespect or coercion. This encounter will not be the first time I have stood my ground, and it certainly won't be the last. Never! If he thinks that I am one of those weak bitches who cannot fight for themselves, then he knows nothing about me, and I pity him.

I speak again, the air between us cracking with broken silence. "I will submit, my sweet dom, but be warned." I level our eyes, my lips shaking with anger as I speak. 'You don't know what a furious, detestable sub can do. I dare you to shove that thing into my mouth if you want me to grind it into minced meat, Damian!"

I willingly go down on my knees, my eyes never leaving his. The rage is still there, raw. The urge to castigate me for this ambiguous offense is so dense and evident in him, but he is taken aback. That is why he is just standing here like a solid rock and gawking at me as if I am insane. Maybe I am.

I said it countless times that he is sane. Now he has messed with it and it is high time I show him who the real Ellie Marrie Riccaford is made of.

"Come on, Damian! I am waiting! Or should I fish the glorious cock for myself and shove it where you fucking want it to be?" I don't blink nor shiver as I challenge the cold beast, and he slightly cocks his head down in bewilderment, probably to have a clear picture of the bitch kneeling and challenging before him.

He is really taken aback, though, refusing to drop his cold demeanor. Not actually refusing. My defiance is driving me mad and resentful. But who cares? His fury cannot match what I am feeling for him right now.

We embark on a stare challenge, with me on my knees before him, jolting my head up high to meet his demeaning eyes and frame, and him racking tall and strong like the wall of Jericho before the attack that left it crumbling.

I want to see you dare, Damian Almeda!