Hope

Hope
I walk into Michael’s office in the mansion. Lately, he hasn’t been spending much time here. His business is run from a building in downtown New York, and last week he took me to see his workplace. I felt like a queen being presented to her subjects. I especially liked that his secretary was also a soldier who helps protect my husband. Michael makes me feel safe. Whether it’s a man or a woman working with him, I know he would never do anything to hurt me.

Our time at the company was brief. Right after, he dropped me off at the ladies’ club, and I spent the rest of the day busy with my tasks. It’s satisfying to have something to occupy myself with inside the organization, even though the desire to study is always on my mind. I understand the situation I’m in, and for now, I’m happy with what I have.

I knock three times on the mahogany door, and Michael allows me in. I turn the handle and push the door open, spotting the doctor who treated me at the compound, seated with a briefcase in front of him, and Simon, the head of IT for the organization, by his side. Michael is behind his desk. I don’t know what they want with me, but judging from my husband’s content expression and the other men’s presence, I have a slight idea.

“Good morning,” I greet, walking in with my chin raised and moving to stand beside Michael. “You called me, darling?”

“Yes.” He stands, taking my hand in his. “The trackers I ordered for you have finally arrived. We’re going to put them in.”

“All right.”

I walk around his desk and sit on the couch facing the doctor, extending my arm. The man gives me a restrained smile—I can almost guess he’s wondering why he has to do this, since doctors don’t usually give injections once they leave med school. I’d feel more comfortable if a nurse were here, but I imagine this has to be kept secret.

“Mr. Bianchi requested five trackers,” Simon says, opening a folder with the devices.

I pull back my arm and pick one up. It’s tiny, about the size of a pill. I can see the wires inside through the transparent shell and a small red light blinking.

“You said five?” I frown, looking at my husband, who sits beside me.

“One for each limb.” He touches my arm. “I won’t risk someone finding one tracker and losing your signal.”

His calm, firm voice gives me the certainty that I’m important to him. I blink, fighting the urge to cry from the emotion of knowing how deeply Michael cares for me. Soon we’ll make a month of marriage, and every single day has been a perfect repetition of care, tenderness, trust, and a passion that burns my soul, demanding I be honest with every word I speak to him.

“I’m going to turn into a computer!” I joke, trying to lighten the lump in my throat.

“As long as I know where you are, that’s fine. You can start, doctor,” Michael instructs.

“Hope, first I’ll apply a small local anesthetic and then inject the trackers with a thicker needle. All right?”

“Yes.”

“First in the right calf,” Michael says.

I hold my husband’s hand and lean against his chest, turning my leg upward. The doctor moves, takes my shin in both gloved hands, applies the anesthetic, then grabs a large syringe, places the tracker inside, and injects it. Thanks to the anesthetic, I don’t feel anything, though there’s a small one-millimeter cut when he pulls the needle out. With the help of a thread and needle, he stitches the spot, then places a bandage.

He repeats the procedure on my left thigh, right arm, nape, and lower back. I still think five trackers might be overkill, but I stay quiet. Remembering the desperation I went through when I was kidnapped—and how everything would have been solved faster if I had one of these—makes me hold my tongue and trust my husband. He knows best.

“We’re done,” the doctor says, placing the last bandage on my lower back.

“Now let’s check if they’re working,” Simon says, staring at the tablet screen. “Do you feel any discomfort, Hope?”

“Not much,” I reply, sitting normally, though my thigh hurts a bit against the upholstery.

“Here are all the signals.” He shows me the screen, five small points glowing, all showing I’m inside the mansion. “If one malfunctions, we’ll get a report on the tablet. If they’re removed from your skin, the heat change will trigger an alert and lock the last known location. For now, these are the best trackers in the world, and unless they’re removed, we’ll find you—even underground.”

“All right,” I say.

“You may go,” Michael dismisses the men.

They say goodbye and leave the office. I lie down on the couch, on the arm that wasn’t pierced, feeling like Swiss cheese. Michael’s large hand slides along my exposed thigh, pushing up the fabric of my shorts. His fingers graze my intimacy, and that’s all it takes to spark me alive.

“Come here,” he calls, his voice dripping with lust. I love when Michael changes his tone when speaking to me.

“Yes?” I wrap my arms around his neck, straddling his waist.

“I have something for you, but I don’t know if I should give it before or after I fuck you.” I shiver at his crude words.

“How much will I want to please you after I get my gift?” I trace his jawline.

“A lot.” His hand squeezes my ass, tugging at my shorts, trying to reach my back entrance. “I think you’ll want to give me this sweet little ass.” He plants a quick kiss on my lips.

He’s been trying to convince me for days to let him take me there, but I’ve stood firm in my refusal. Anal sex doesn’t turn me on much, while Michael almost loses his mind whenever we fuck doggy-style and his fingers tease my ass. Deep down, I like how denying him makes him lose control.

“Oh, it must be something really good then,” I whisper against his lips. “Give it to me first, then we’ll decide.”

“Naughty girl.” He smacks my ass hard, making me fall against his chest. He stands with me in his arms and carries me to his desk, sitting with me in his lap.

“If you sign these papers,” he says, handing me some documents, “you’ll be the newest medical student at New York University.”

“Really?” I ask, my chest bursting with joy.

Michael nods, and I scream, hugging him tight, covering his face with kisses. The emotion shoots through my body like an electric shock. I capture his lips in a long kiss, full of tenderness and gratitude. I never thought I’d be able to study again so soon.

I let go of his face to take the papers and carefully read every word written on the white sheets. All my transfer documentation has already been filled in. I’ll be able to return next semester, which starts in four months. He’s really doing this for me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes wet. “Thank you so much,” I sob, hardly able to hold back the emotion.

“And just to make it clear,” he says with a casual look, “I didn’t do this just to get your sweet little ass. I know you’ll give it to me sooner or later.” I laugh at his shamelessness and hit his chest. “I want you to be happy in our marriage and free to do what you want. Becoming a doctor in the organization will not only make you useful, but it showed me women have more to contribute than just raising our children.”

“I’ll be eternally grateful to you,” I declare, my vision blurred as a new feeling rises in my heart. The words dance on the tip of my tongue. “Thank you, Michael,” I repeat, holding back the urge to confess my passion. I’m afraid everything we’ve built might crumble if I let the truth slip. I want to preserve these happy moments as long as I can. So when the storm comes, I’ll have them to remind me of the good days.

“Now, can I have your ass?” he asks mischievously. I laugh, shaking my head.

“Not yet, sorry.” I capture his lips before he can say anything else dirty.

“At least I have your pussy.” His playful tone makes me giggle.

“Completely yours.”

That sexy scent fills my senses. Michael lifts me up, carrying me to the couch. He lays me down gently, but when he kneels, I see the fire burning in his blue eyes, making me shiver in anticipation.

“If it weren’t for those damn stitches, I’d fuck you until you passed out,” he growls, removing his tie. The scene unfolds before my eyes, hot and heavy. “Get naked.”

Breathing unevenly, I obey. I pull my shirt over my head, then slide off my shorts, careful not to brush against the bandages. Bra and panties follow. Michael stands, watching me, the tie the only thing left. He wraps it around his hand, and I tremble, wondering what’s next.

“Put your wrists above your head.” I obey.

He straddles me, kneeling on my stomach. His cock strains against his pants, hard as steel, and I salivate with the need to have it in my mouth. His hand grabs my wrists, and with the other, he threads the tie between them, binding me. I love when Michael ties me up during sex. It leaves me completely at his mercy, trusting that he’ll never hurt me—only give me pleasure.