The night was restless. A storm had broken loose over the city, and the streets lay deserted under the merciless downpour. Thunder cracked like an angry beast across the heavens, and lightning ripped the sky apart, painting the world in fleeting white flashes before drowning it again in darkness.
On that storm-drenched road, a young girl of barely twenty years was running. Her bare feet splashed through puddles as she stumbled forward, her breath ragged, her chest heaving. Her face was pale, her wide eyes red from tears, and every few steps she glanced back over her shoulder, convinced that someone was chasing her.
Her black nighty clung to her trembling body, soaked to the bone. Every raindrop glistened on her skin under the brief glow of lightning, making her look like a fragile, broken angel fallen onto a merciless earth. Fear was etched into every line of her face, and though her lips trembled, no scream escaped. Only the storm carried her pain.
She tripped. Her body hit the wet ground with a thud, mud staining her knees and palms. Pain jolted through her, forcing a sharp cry from her lips. "Ahhh…" Tears mingled with raindrops as they streamed down her face. But she did not stop. Wiping her face with trembling hands, she forced herself to her feet again and staggered forward.
Through the curtain of rain, she spotted four or five men gathered under a broken streetlight. For a moment, hope flickered in her eyes. Maybe—just maybe—she wasn't alone in this nightmare.
"Please… help me!" she cried, her voice trembling, her words tumbling over themselves. "P-please… help me! I… I need a phone… please!"
The men fell silent. Their eyes locked on her as if time itself had stopped. They were transfixed, stunned by her beauty, her fragility, her trembling form under the nighty plastered against her curves. In that haunting storm, she looked otherworldly, like some heavenly vision misplaced in the filth of the earth.
Big, kohl-lined eyes brimming with terror. Soft, trembling lips. Her long, wet hair plastered against her cheeks and shoulders. And the nighty—soaked through, revealing more than it concealed—made her seem almost ethereal.
But the moment of stunned silence broke. The men's gazes hardened, and something darker surfaced in their eyes. Malice. Hunger.
One of them stepped forward, his smile sharp and crooked. "Of course, miss. We'll help you."
The girl froze. Instinct screamed within her—something was wrong. She stepped back, shaking her head, but her lips still whispered, "Please… just the phone. That's all I need."
Another man laughed, a harsh sound swallowed by thunder. "We'll take care of you."
Their laughter grew, echoing through the empty street. They began to circle her like predators scenting blood. Fear clawed at her throat. She stumbled backward, whispering, "No… no, I don't need help. Please—stay away!"
And then—they lunged.
But before their hands could touch her, blinding white light flooded the street. Headlights.
The men cried out, shielding their eyes as several black luxury cars screeched to a halt. The doors opened in unison, and men in brown uniforms stepped out. Broad-shouldered, disciplined, their movements precise—they were not ordinary men. They were bodyguards, trained and merciless.
Within seconds, the stormy silence shattered into screams. The men who had cornered her were seized, their cries echoing into the night as the bodyguards dragged them aside. Even through the rain, the girl could hear the sickening sounds of violence—their pleas for mercy, the ruthless punishment unleashed upon them. She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling, tears spilling anew.
But her terror only grew. Because she knew these cars. These uniforms.
She had not escaped. She had been found.
The girl's knees buckled as another car door opened, and a man stepped out with calculated grace. His name was Monty Thomas—the personal assistant, the shadow of the devil himself. Without a word, he opened the rear door of the car, bowing slightly as though he were welcoming royalty.
And then he appeared.
The storm seemed to pause for a heartbeat.
A towering man emerged, six foot four, every inch of him carved with raw power. His broad frame was wrapped in black, his steps heavy yet deliberate. His handsome face was carved from stone, but it was his eyes—glowing a dangerous shade of blue—that sent a chill deeper than the storm itself.
Every guard bowed their head. No one dared look directly at him.
But the girl did. She couldn't help it. And the sight of him shattered what little hope she had left.
Her lips trembled. Her body shook. Because she had been running from this man.
The very man now walking toward her.
"Please… no…" she whispered, stumbling back until her heel slipped against the wet ground. Her chest tightened with suffocating dread.
The man's jaw clenched, the veins in his hand tightening as though fury itself ran through his blood. With a sudden motion, he seized her wrist. His grip was iron, unyielding, making her cry out in pain.
"Y-you're hurting me," she sobbed, trying to pull away. But his hold only grew harsher, branding her delicate skin with the cruel strength of his fingers.
"How dare you run from me?" His voice was low, a growl carried by thunder. "You think you can escape me? You think you have wings now?"
His words dripped with venom, his fury barely contained.
She shook her head violently, tears streaming. "No, please—I won't! I won't do it again!"
He caught her chin in his hand, forcing her terrified eyes to meet his. "You dare defy me?" His voice was ice. "Then you will learn what punishment means."
She whimpered, pleading, "Please… I'll never run again. I promise! Don't—please!"
But mercy was not in his eyes.
With ruthless strength, he dragged her toward the waiting car, ignoring her cries and struggles. He shoved her inside, slamming the door shut. The convoy roared to life, slicing through the stormy night as the cars sped away from the empty street.
The city blurred past. Soon, the cars pulled up to towering iron gates, which opened slowly, revealing a mansion that looked more like a fortress than a home. Its walls loomed high, its windows dark, its very presence radiating power and dread.
The girl's heart pounded as she was dragged inside. Servants lined the entrance hall, heads bowed low in silence, afraid to even glance at her. Shame burned on their faces—they had failed to prevent her escape, and they knew the consequences.
He did not spare them a glance. His fury was fixed on the trembling girl.
Through corridors lit by golden chandeliers, up a sweeping staircase, and into a vast, cold room, he pulled her. At last, he flung her to the floor. She cried out, landing hard on her knees, her body trembling from pain and fear.
He loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her whole. She tried to crawl back, her voice cracking as she whispered, "I beg you… please… I'll never run again."
But he grabbed her arm, yanking her up with terrifying force. His voice was a snarl, raw and merciless: "You thought you could defy me. You thought you could fly free. Now you will pay."
Her back hit the wall as he pushed her against it, his face inches from hers. His breath was heavy with rage, his blue eyes burning.
"I'll show you what happens," he growled, "when someone tries to escape me."
She sobbed, shaking her head. "No… no… I can't take it, please—"
But he did not listen.
With a brutal motion, he pulled her toward the bed, casting her down upon it. The storm outside roared, the thunder crashing as if the heavens themselves bore witness to her cries.
Her voice broke into the night, pleading, begging, but the mansion swallowed every sound.
The walls trembled with her screams. The storm carried them away.
And in that vast, merciless room, the girl's sobs echoed like the wail of a soul trapped in chains.
That night, she realized—there was no escape.
Not from him.
Not from the dark fate her life had become.
Then that executioner tore the nighty of that innocent girl and separated it from her body. Only her bra and panties were left on her body. She kept sliding backwards on the bed and covering her chest with her hands. Seeing this the monster got even more angry. He quickly removed all the clothes from his muscular body and pulled both the legs of that innocent girl downwards and in a single jerk separated her panty from her waist and keeping both her legs upwards on his shoulders he thrusted his hard thick penis into her vagina with great force.