Caged Obsession- Tragic Romance

. Days bleed into nights, and the endless cycle of monotony becomes a soft, muffled background hum. There's less chance of my having the hope of a better life if all the not

of a peach. Those same hands once caused delight-caressed me like I was something precious. Now, they're instruments of devastation, reducing me to a hollow shell of the person I used to be. "Good girl," he mutters, his voice low and gravelly in my ear. It's a term of endearment turned weapon, a reminder of how thoroughly he's trained me. My stomach churns, but I force myself to arch into him, meeting his thrusts with mechanical precision. Vic's movements quicken at my strangled cry, his pace unrelenting. My mind drifts, desperate to detach from the moment. I lift my hips in time with his, not because I want to, but because it's easier this way. Easier to let him finish than to deal with the consequences of resistance. Somewhere deep within me, a spark flares to life-a flicker of something I can't quite name. It's not hope; that's been snuffed out long ago. Maybe it's defiance. Or maybe it's just the primal need to feel something, anything, that isn't this suffocating numbness. Each thrust of his cock blurs the line between pleasure and pain until I can't tell one from the other. They blend into a fathomless darkness that wraps around me like a shroud. I reach for it, yearning for its bleak comfort. In the void, I don't have to think. Don't have to feel. But Vic's grunts drag me back, tethering me to reality. The pleasure ebbs away with each sharp exhalation in my ear, leaving behind an irritating itch I can't scratch. I want to growl and claw at him, to rage against the chains he's wrapped around my soul. But instead, I twist my fists into the bedspread, knuckles white from the effort of keeping still. The sound of the alarm clock cuts through the room, a harsh, relentless d