Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing bleary, unfocused eyes that struggled to discern the intruder in the subdued light. The contours of the room were hazy, and the figure looming above her was an enigma, a silhouette swathed in obscurity.
Drowsiness clung to her like a silken veil, heavy as lead, making her limbs seem unresponsive. As the hand continued undressing her, the weight of her eyelids became insurmountable. The boundaries between wakefulness and sleep blurred, and, in that delicate liminal space, she yielded to the beckoning embrace of slumber. Her eyes fell shut, and consciousness drifted away like a fragile dream, leaving her to the tender mercies of the night.
The surroundings were foreign to Theressa, an unfamiliar territory she couldn't recall ever setting foot in, let alone heard of. Everything about the room seemed to exude opulence. The king-size bed stood like a regal centerpiece, draped in satin sheets that whispered luxury. A vast glass window allowed a glimpse of an alien landscape, and the room itself seemed like a cavern of decadence, from the dark walls to the plush carpet underfoot. Even the chandelier overhead was a study in dark elegance.
But for all its grandeur, the darkness of the room sent shivers down her spine. It was a darkness that felt oppressive, as though it might swallow her whole. Her heart began to race, and the migraine that had been lurking at the edges of her consciousness now hammered at her temples.
Theressa's mind was a jumbled puzzle of fragmented memories, and fear gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. Had she been kidnapped? The room offered no comfort, no answers. It was a place of unsettling mystery, and she was adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
The abrupt knock on the door jolted her, her eyes widening as she clutched the duvet closer to her body. Panic coursed through her veins, and as she surveyed her attire, her confusion deepened. She was no longer in the red midi dress she'd worn to the club. Instead, she found herself clad in an oversized white shirt, but there were no panties. Her mind raced with disturbing questions: "What in the world did they do to me?"
A voice from beyond the door shattered her bewildered thoughts. "Miss Theressa, Master would like you to have breakfast with him." The words hung in the air, and Theressa grappled with a rush of fear and curiosity.
Her decision unfolded after moments of anxious deliberation. She needed to understand how and why she had ended up in this unfamiliar place. Her trembling hand reached for the doorknob, and with a deep breath, she turned it slowly, revealing the figure that stood on the other side.
"Good morning, Miss," the elderly woman greeted with a slight bow. Confusion gripped Theressa, but she returned the greeting with a bow of her own. It was a gesture that masked her trepidation, for she was about to embark on a journey into the unknown, with questions yet to be answered and a master she had yet to meet.
"I'll walk you to meet Master," the elderly woman declared, a fleeting smile playing on her lips, before she set off down the hallway. Theressa barely had time to respond before the woman had taken her leave, striding away with a certain briskness that betrayed no concern for her guest's disheveled state.
"But I'm not fully dressed," Theressa muttered, her complaint lost in the silence that followed. It left her with a heavy sense of disquiet, her chest aching at the woman's apparent indifference. The oversized shirt clung to her like an ill-fitting dress, and she moved with measured steps, desperately hoping that her lack of proper attire would go unnoticed.
It wasn't long before the woman stopped abruptly, and Theressa's forehead met the woman's back with a painful thud. Wincing, she began to apologize, her voice tinged with humility. The elderly woman, however, continued her progress without acknowledging the collision, leaving Theressa to nurse her wounded pride.
"Have a seat," a voice commanded, snapping Theressa out of her discomfort. Her hand fell away from her forehead, and her eyes locked onto the man who had spoken.
Her eyes widened in shock, and her mouth hung agape. She pointed an accusatory finger at the man before her. "YOU!" Theressa scolded, her face contorted with anger and confusion. Marcelo, the CEO of a renowned car production company, sat calmly at the table, slicing his steak and casting peculiar glances her way.
"What did you do to me?" Theressa continued her tirade, her fury uncontained. She felt an overwhelming urge to pounce on him, to demand answers, but the realization of his stature held her back. Her memory was an impenetrable fog, her migraine a persistent throb, but even in her confusion, she couldn't bring herself to admit ignorance to Marcelo's probing question.
"So, let me get this straight," Theressa began, her tone a curious blend of disbelief and defiance. She sat there, posture rigid, on the edge of the dining chair, her brows furrowing in confusion. "I got drunk at some party last night, and you decided to bring me here? Is that your grand plan, to force me into working for you?"
Honesty was on her side, and she knew it. She hadn't the faintest recollection of encountering Marcelo at any club, nor could she recall consuming enough alcohol to warrant the haze of intoxication she found herself in.
Marcelo, a figure of calm and composure, regarded her with a measured, piercing gaze. He lifted a crystal glass filled with crimson wine, its contents dancing in the dim ambient light. "So, you really don't remember?" he inquired, his voice steady as he took a deliberate sip from the glass.
Theressa's arms remained firmly crossed beneath her chest, her eyes locking onto Marcelo's like twin daggers, her defiance unwavering. She met his gaze unflinchingly, a hint of frustration simmering beneath the surface, her memory shrouded in uncertainty. As Marcelo rose from his seat, the clinking of cutlery against fine china punctuated the room. Slowly, he began to close the distance between them, each step deliberate, each movement calculated, leaving her with a palpable sense of impending revelation.
"You don't remember holding me tightly?" Marcelo smirked.
Theressa shook her head and was about to respond to Marcelo's infuriating question but she paused as she had began to have sudden flash backs. Her eyes widened in shock, she couldn't believe those were her own memories, everything had began to play out in her head, the stranger walking her out, her been taken away by Marcelo, how she clunged and begged Marcelo. Theressa's hands had fallen to her side, her face showing obvious distress.
"Begging me to pleasure you" Marcelo continued, his voice hunting Theressa who was already ashamed of herself at this point, she wanted to hide herself, she wanted to stay away from this man.
In that charged moment, they were so close that the warmth of their breaths mingled in the small space between them. Marcelo's unwavering gaze bore into Theressa, and given their significant height difference, she felt herself looking up, making the proximity all the more intense.
The air between them seemed to thicken, crackling with unspoken tension. Theressa's heart raced in her chest, its rhythm a frantic drumbeat that echoed in her ears. Heat rushed to her cheeks, painting them a rosy hue, and she couldn't help but bite down on her lower lip.
Marcelo's intensity held her captive, his eyes locked onto hers, and in that nearness, words seemed superfluous. It was a moment suspended in time, where their proximity spoke volumes, where desire hung heavy in the air, and where the world beyond them faded into obscurity. "Begging me to fuck you like a slut" Marcelo stated in a low tone.
Her breathe hitched from Marcelo's statement. "I wasn't in my right mind" Theressa turned away from Marcelo's too ashamed to look at him in the eyes. She silently cursed the stranger that did this to her. She wasn't able to defend herself anymore.
"I'm sorry"Theressa whispered.
Marcelo finally took a step back, turning to walk back to his seat, leaving Theressa standing with her arms crossed at her front.
"Sit" Marcelo commanded, he wasn't teasing her anymore. His face had returnedto the cold and heartless look that gave Theressa the chills.
Theressa obediently took a seat opposite Marcelo, thanks to the long dinning table they were far apart which put some ease to Theressa.
Emphasizing on the SOME ease. After that intense confrontation Theressa couldn't help but feel the drug from last night is still lingering.
Why else would she still want this man.