Page 11 of Making the King

The six seemingly small words make me smile.

He’s right… he owes me. Maybe if I help out, I can garner enough favors for my freedom.

I’m so engrossed in my thoughts I don’t notice Rochus has moved until his hand closes around my upper arm, and he hauls me to my feet.

“Enough of this,” he growls.

I kick out at him, but narrowly miss him when he moves to the side.

“Let go of me,” I demand, outraged he’s touching me.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. On our wedding day, he did say he couldn’t wait to fuck me, so this must be him reaching the end of his patience. Panic claws at my throat and I shake my arm, trying to dislodge his grip.

Rather than doing as I say, he moves until his body is flush against mine. Then he effortlessly throws me over his shoulder.

“Rochus!” I cry out, and slap his back, but he doesn’t budge.

As he carries me over to the small bathroom, my breath quickens. No. I’m not going in there. I flail my arms and legs, doing my best to hurt him. Despite landing a few good punches, he doesn’t react apart from a grunt or two.

“You’re going to have to play nice eventually,” he says as he puts me down on the bathroom floor.

My vision wavers, and it feels like the walls are closing in on me.

“I won’t let you fuck me,” I scream as I fight to keep my panic at bay.

Rochus chuckles. “I’m not in the habit of forcing anyone to have sex with me. But I don’t want to smell you all day. So get in the fucking shower.”

When I try to push past him, he quickly darts out the door, slamming it behind him. As I hear what sounds like furniture scraping against the floor, I jump into action and throw myself at the door.

It’s too late.

Whatever he moved is barricading the door, preventing me from getting out. Not that it deters me from kicking and punching the fucking door.

“Let me out,” I scream.

No answer.

“Rochus!” I snarl his name.

When that doesn’t work, I spin around and look for anything I can use to help me escape my new prison. Of course, there’s nothing. As I go through the cabinet and shower, I don’t even find a razor. The motherfucker must be hiding it.

Swallowing, I try a different tactic. “Please let me out. I promise I’ll be nice.”

Still no answer.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I swear the damn walls are moving nearer. If I don’t get out of here soon, they’ll swallow me whole.

“P-please,” I sob, not able to control my panic.

I can’t be in here much longer. The walls are almost touching my arms, and the light is flickering. If it goes out, I’ll… I can’t… I have to get out.

I only have one thing left to bargain with. Rochus doesn’t know I’m still a virgin, or maybe he does since I’ve been locked up since we got married. But unlike many other inmates, I didn’t indulge in any kind of sexual activities. I’m as untouched as I was three years ago.

Fuck, I really don’t want to give my body to him, but I will if it’s my ticket out of this cursed room.

“I’ll make you feel good if you let me out,” I offer, my voice breaking off on a whimper as the light flickers again.

When he still doesn’t let me out, I start kicking and punching again while screaming at the top of my lungs. I even ram my head against the door.

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