Chapter 176 : THE PUNISHMENT

It was a gun...

Cold metal. Black and deadly. Pointed directly at her forehead.

Panic choked her, stealing her voice and her courage. She couldn't even lift her head to meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on the metal inches from her face. The gun seemed to grow larger, heavier, with each passing second. She squeezed her eyes shut, the sight of the gun too much to bear.

"Getting scared, baby girl?" He cooed. Yes. He had achieved what he wanted. He reveled in the raw terror that flickered in her tightly shut eyes. A single tear escaped her tightly shut lids.

The gun remained pressed against her skin for a moment longer before it was slowly lowered.

His left hand yanked at her hair, pulling her head back in a sharp jerk. "Up," he growled, the single word an order. He didn't use excessive force, just enough to remind her of her fragile position.

Another sharp cry tore from her throat as she was yanked to her knees. The throbbing pain in her knee, forgotten in the face of the gun, flared back to life.

Seeing the gun disappear, Ava spat, "Stop playing with me." 

Ibrahim chuckled, "Oh, there are many dangerous games, Ava and believe me, I'm one of the most exciting."

He tossed the gun carelessly onto the bed. Ava flinched, her gaze darting between the discarded weapon and Ibrahim's face. He reached for the buttons of his pants, slowly, deliberately unfastening them with one hand. His other hand remained firmly entangled in her hair, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.

"What are you doing?" she whispered with wide eyes.

"Making your wish come true," he purred, "Remember what occupied your thoughts last night?"

Wish? What wish? The ice cream. The ice cream in the fridge, the very one that had sparked her forbidden imaginings – it had been him. He'd orchestrated it all. 

He'd planted it there, a seed of desire, a twisted test he'd been monitoring. Shame burned through her. The innocent treat, the catalyst for her secret desires – desires she'd never dared voice, not even in the deepest recesses of her mind. How long had he been watching her? How long had he known she was in Thailand, living in a false sense of security? 

Ibrahim undid another button and in the dim light, the dark outline of his manhood came into view, a familiar yet terrifying sight. She knew its size, its heat, the way it could both pleasure and terrify her.

 "Open your mouth, Ava," 

Ava strained against the constraints of the belt, her wrists burning with the friction. Her lips were pressed shut in a defiant line.

His face darkened as he witnessed her resistance, "So, you choose the difficult way." He yanked on her hair with a viciousness that brought tears to her eyes, tilting her head back until her throat strained.

The moment Ava opened her mouth to scream, Ibrahim seized the opportunity. And he forced his manhood past her trembling lips. He thrust forward, a growl ripping from his throat as she was forced to accommodate him. One hand, still tangled in her hair, tilted her head at a punishing angle while the other moved, unbuttoning his black shirt with a violence that mirrored the storm raging within him.

Through tear-blurred vision, she glared at him, her eyes burning with fury. She tried to turn her head, to break free of the suffocating touch, but his grip on her hair was like a vice.

"Such fire," he growled, "Even rage becomes beautiful on you, my wife." His words were a twisted caress, a justification for the violence he was enacting. "You want it just as bad as I do, so don't fight it."

With each thrust, his growl deepened. He roughly fucked her mouth, not caring about her well-being or comfort. Spit dripped down her chin. Her mouth was now a numb battleground, invaded and conquered. Her tongue lay heavy and sluggish against the inside of her cheek.

"Ahh...Fuck" Ibrahim groaned as he felt Ava's lips on his cock, his grip on her head tightening.

A choked gag escaped Ava's lips as Ibrahim thrust his hips forward, forcing more of his length into her unwilling mouth. He controlled the pace, the wet slick of arousal glinting under the dim light as he withdrew and thrust again. 

"Take it all, babygirl. There's plenty to go around." 

Her glare could have melted iron. Her eyes locked onto his. She was barely managing to handle half of his length and Ibrahim was telling to take it all. 

 Again tears blurred her vision but failing to extinguish the fire in her gaze. They weren't tears of submission, but of a caged tigress forced to bear the unwanted touch of a hunter. If looks could kill, Ibrahim would have been in serious trouble. Her nostrils flared with each ragged breath, and the set of her jaw could have cracked stone.

Ibrahim couldn't help but let out a dark chuckle. "That look. It's enough to set a man ablaze. Even if you're glaring at him like a cornered cat. Let the anger flow. Let it fuel you. Because in the end, it all feeds the same fire, doesn't it?

Ava's face turned beet red as her anger reached a boiling point. She whipped her head to the side in a desperate attempt to break free. His manhood slipped from her mouth with a wet pop.

Gasping for breath, Ava spat out the venomous words that came to mind, "If killing wasn't a crime, I'd tear you apart with my bare hands right here, right now!"

Ibrahim tucked himself back into his pants, a cruel smirk twisting his lips, "When did you start talking like such a little firebrand?"

He leaned in close and brushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek, "But wouldn't that be a glorious end? To die at the hands of the woman I possess? A death intertwined with passion. Believe me, Ava. I wouldn't mind being your victim."

Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her face. "What do you want, Ibrahim? Wasn't it enough? Taking everything... my innocence, a piece of me I can never get back. Was that not enough of a sacrifice? Don't you see the wreckage you've left behind? Or do you enjoy it? Does it bring you some sick pleasure to see me sitting here, broken and powerless like a pathetic doll at your mercy?"

Her words seemed to drift past Ibrahim, UNHEARD. His gaze was fixed on a red stain blossoming on the light wash denim at her knee. The injury was now aggravated by her kneeling position.

Ibrahim wondered if Ava could even feel the pain, considering how steadfastly she maintained her position still, despite the injury. 

"I never thought I could hate someone this much," Ava continued, "From the moment I laid eyes on you, it's been nothing but manipulation. Enough! I'm done being your pawn."

He reached out, intending to ease the leather belt from her clenched fist. But Ava scrambled back until the wall met her spine. "Don't you dare touch me! Just get away. Don't you dare pretend you care. All I want is for you to leave me alone. Go!"

His jaw clenched tight. In her current state, any attempt at closeness, even to tend to her wound, would be misconstrued. He fought the urge to argue, to explain. His gaze lingered on the stain spreading on her jeans.

With a sigh that ruffled the air, Ibrahim scooped his discarded shirt and coat off the floor. The weight of them felt insignificant compared to the heavy silence hanging between them. He cast one last look at Ava. Her tear-streaked face etched in his memory. Then, with a quiet resolve, he turned and left the room.

She curled in on herself, knees pulled to her chest, burying her face between them. It was a futile attempt to shut out the world, to shut out the memory of his touch, of his will dominating hers.

 The vulnerability he'd stolen from her with his touch felt amplified now. Her own body felt alien, violated. Her sobs weren't the sharp, angry cries of moments ago. Now, they were deep, wracking gutturals that shook her entire frame.

The belt mocked her from her bound wrists. Desperation clawed at her. She twisted and strained, the leather digging into her flesh as she fumbled blindly behind her back. But the buckle remained stubbornly fastened. It was a symbol of her current state - TRAPPED, POWERLESS, AND UTTERLY ALONE.