Chapter 40: Chapter Thirty-nine

Hunter’s arm tightened around her waist as he guided her into the elevator. His movements were calm, almost casual, and Mirabella could feel the composure and command humming beneath his skin. She leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator, her heart beating unevenly as they began to descend.

The familiar hum of the machine filled the silence until it finally stopped with a soft chime. The doors slid open to reveal an entirely different world.

Mirabella frowned immediately. The place was unfamiliar. Shadows danced across the crimson-lit corridor, and the air itself seemed heavier. She turned to look at Hunter, her eyes full of questions.

But he only pressed a hand against the small of her back, steady and firm, and nudged her forward.

“Don’t be scared by the things you’ll see,” he said calmly, his deep voice echoing in the hallway.

Still confused, Mirabella glanced around, but before she could ask what he meant, different sounds reached her ears.

Moans. Loud, raw, uninhibited. Groans, growls, gasps of pleasure and pain. The deeper they walked into the corridor, the more intense and louder the noises grew, bouncing off the red-painted walls like an erotic soundtrack to a world she had never known existed.

Her steps slowed without her realizing it.

There were rooms lined up on either side of the corridor. Some doors were wide open, others were covered only with transparent, net-like curtains that barely concealed what was happening inside while few others were closed. To her shock, she could see clearly through most of the curtains. The people in the rooms weren’t hiding. They didn't mind being seen.

The sounds grew louder and rawer. Her chest tightened. Her pulse quickened. She didn’t know if it was fear, unease, or something else twisting in her stomach and for a moment she hesitated.

Hunter noticed her hesitation instantly and he reached back, gripped her hand firmly, and tugged her along until they stopped in front of the very first room.

Mirabella froze. Her breathing grew uneven, rushed, her chest rising and falling as she stared at the thin curtain that concealed nothing.

Inside, the room was set like some forbidden fantasy. Chains hung from the ceiling, glinting under the dim lights. A wide black bed dominated one corner, an equally dark couch sat opposite the bed. In the middle of the room was a woman. She was completely naked.

Her wrists were chained apart, high above her head, her ankles spread wide and bound as well. Thick black rope circled her torso, pressing her breasts together tightly. A chain wound around her neck, its pull making her posture arch painfully.

It looked painful and unbearable.

A tall lean but muscled man, who was equally naked circled her like a predator. A whip dangled from his hand, which he snapped against her skin at intervals, leaving faint red lines across her body. His other hand roamed possessively over her whole body and stayed on her breasts, squeezing and pinching.

Mirabella’s stomach lurched when he moved behind her, grabbed her hips, and with one thrust, drove himself inside her.

The woman screamed, her voice echoing through the room as her head fell back and her back ached.

Mirabella gasped, stumbling back slightly, her face twisting with horror. She would have looked away, but Hunter’s warm palm slid up to her nape, holding her in place gently yet firmly. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice low and possessive.

“Don’t get carried away by what he’s doing to her Bella,” he whispered, his tone both warning and commanding. “And don’t desire him in any way. I brought you here to show you something—not for you to think of another man touching you.”

A cold shiver ran down her spine. She turned her head slightly, her wide eyes filled with horror as she looked at him. He had been expecting it. He knew she hadn't seen something like this in her life before. It's all new to her. He knew she wasn’t ready for this kind of raw, unfiltered reality.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Her throat felt dry.

Hunter stepped into her space, keeping her gaze locked with his as he began to explain, his voice slow and deliberate.

“What you just saw is a submissive pleasing her master. Doing whatever he desires. And before you ask…no, she wasn’t forced. She agreed to it. She enjoys it. It’s her choice.”

Mirabella swallowed hard. “But… It looks painful. She looks like she’s suffering.”

Hunter shook his head, his dark eyes unblinking. “It’s not suffering, Bella. It’s called painful pleasure. She may scream, she may writhe, she may cry but every second of it is something she consents to. If she asks him to stop, he’ll stop. But right now? She’s enjoying it. She wants it.”

Mirabella shook her head slightly, still processing. Her voice was faint but steady. “Some people… actually like that?”

“Yes,” Hunter said simply. “Some people crave pain with pleasure. It makes them feel good and alive. Just like how I make you feel sometimes when I fuck you hard and cruelly… when you think you can’t take anymore, but your body begs me not to stop. Asking for more.”

Her cheeks burned instantly. She hated how accurate that was.

She inhaled and then exhaled deeply, trying to steady herself, then asked quietly, “Do you… like this too?”

Her question was soft but it carried weight. She knew the answer already. Hunter had chained her to his bed before, had pushed her boundaries more than once—but never this extreme.

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, his gaze boring deep into hers. He didn’t speak right away. He studied her instead, scanning her face for every flicker of emotion. He saw her unease. Her shock. Her surprise and something else he couldn’t name.

He didn't see fear in her eyes.

She wasn’t scared. She was unsettled, maybe even disgusted, but not afraid.

He didn’t answer her question. Not directly. Instead, he clasped her hand tightly and pulled her forward.

“Come. There’s more.”

They walked deeper into the corridor.

Every room they passed had its own forbidden scene playing out. Groups of three, four, even six or seven tangled bodies moved in synchronized lust. Men and women, moaning, screaming, clawing at each other. Some chained, some bound, some kneeling. The air was thick with sex, with sweat, with raw hunger.

Mirabella’s eyes widened at every passing glance. Her steps faltered again and again, but Hunter’s firm grip on her hand dragged her along, anchoring her.

“This corridor is endless…” she whispered under her breath, but Hunter only smirked.

They reached a staircase. Without hesitation, he guided her down.

The next floor was no different. More rooms. More cries. Only louder, wilder, more animalistic. Screams that blurred the line between agony and ecstasy rang through the air. The walls vibrated with it. It was overwhelming.

Mirabella pressed closer to Hunter, her discomfort rising. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling lightly.

Hunter noticed. His thumb rubbed circles over her hand. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture was enough.

At last, he led her to another elevator. They stepped inside, the doors closing behind them, cutting off the deafening sounds.

Mirabella exhaled in relief, her lungs finally free of the weight.

The elevator descended again.

When the doors opened this time, the atmosphere shifted drastically.

The walls were black, dark as night, and the air smelled of sweat, blood, and smoke. The sound wasn’t moaning anymore—it was roaring. Cheering. Cursing.

Hunter stepped out confidently, pulling Mirabella with him.

They rounded a corner, and her eyes widened at the sight.

Crowds filled the space, surrounding a large underground ring. People shouted, whistled, and threw bets as two muscled men clashed in the center. Punch after punch, brutal and raw. Sweat and blood flew with every strike.

Mirabella’s jaw dropped when she recognized them.

Nate and Ramos. Hunter’s men.

Her stomach twisted as she watched Nate take a brutal punch to the nose. Blood spurted, his head snapping back. She winced, certain his nose had broken, certain it would bruise horribly.

Tobias spotted them immediately and moved through the crowd to usher them toward a section reserved for Hunter. Everyone shifted uncomfortablely. No one dared block Hunter Groves.

Hunter sat down first, then pulled Mirabella down—onto his lap.

Her eyes widened, but he didn’t budge. His arms locked around her waist firmly. “Stay.”

The crowd around them buzzed, some stealing glances but quickly looking away. Nobody dared look for too long; he was that intimidating. A few of Hunter’s men whistled and hollered playfully, but the moment passed quickly as their attention returned to the fight.

Mirabella wriggled uncomfortably on Hunter’s lap, trying to focus on the fight but failing. Every punch, every grunt, every roar from the crowd rattled her nerves.

She flinched again as Ramos’s fist slammed into Nate’s ribs with a sickening thud.

Hunter wasn’t watching the fight. His dark eyes stayed glued to his girl as he studied every flicker of her reaction. Her curiosity. Her unease. Her attempts to understand. His hand slipped low, trailing over the hem of her skirt, his fingers caressing her exposed thigh. The softness of her skin was something else.

She shivered at his touch, trying to ignore it, but she has never succeeded in trying to ignore him or his hand on her body.

Hunter smirked. He knew what he was doing to her and the signal he was sending to her body. She didn’t know it yet, but tonight was only the beginning. She was seeing his world. He knew she was going to have a lot of questions in her mind and when they got home, he was going to answer every one of her questions while buried deep inside her.