Bound To My Ex's Father And Brother

Elena’s POV “Fasten the leather collar around your neck. Make sure to fit snugly, but not choking.” The woman in the YouTube tutorial says as I latch the collar’s hook, after I just spent thirty agonizing minutes squeezing my ass into a custom black lace corset. I say a silent prayer to God, hoping tonight will be the night my husband finally looks at me like he desires me. It’s been two years. Two full years of a dead s*x life. Every time I tried to initiate it, Ronan had an excuse. He was always tired, stressed about work. Or his personal favorite: “Maybe if you hit the treadmill, Elena, I’d actually get hard.” I tried, but for some reason, my body has a problem losing weight. But today is our third anniversary. I already prepared a candlelit dinner, bought top-tier champagne, just to spice things up tonight. Maybe a little b**m was what our s*x life needed. I was going to wait in our bedroom and give him the surprise of his life. The heavy thud of the front door closing suddenly echoes downstairs. He’s early today. A nervous thrill shoots through my stomach—until I hear a second voice. A high-pitched, annoying giggle that I would recognize anywhere. Cassandra. My cousin. My heart instantly drops to my stomach. What the hell is she doing here? Today is our anniversary for godsake. Panic suddenly claws at my throat. I look down at my absurd, overly tight lingerie, and a wave of embarassment weighs on me. I can’t let her see me like this. Scrambling as fast as I can, I slip into the master en-suite bathroom to wait, leaving the door crack open just an inch so I can see. Footsteps pad into the bedroom. Then, the sound of a zipper being violently pulled down. "Ronan, wait, what if she comes home early?" Cassandra’s voice is breathy. Then the wet sound of kissing follows. My heart rate pikes. This can’t be happening. I can’t be hearing right. "Let her. I don’t care, " Ronan groans. I peep through the door’s crack and watch my husband throw my cousin onto our marital bed. "She’s probably at that stupid bakery of hers, gobbling down her cakes like the glutton she is. God, I needed this. I needed you." I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob tearing up my throat. There they were, tangled in the expensive silk sheets I bought for our anniversary. It was supposed to be and Ronan in those sheets. "You really don't feel bad?" Cassandra’s voice is mocking as she speaks, her voice laced with pure venom. "She used her dead parents' entire inheritance to fund your company, Ro. She thinks you guys are building an empire for your future kids." Ronan lets out a harsh, cruel laugh that makes my blood run ice cold. "Kids? With her? Are you insane?" He laughs, spreads her legs so wide and thrusts into her. Cassandra moans performatively, running her hands down his back. Ronan continues. "Did you see her at dinner last week? She’s huge. I wouldn't put a baby in that. Thank God I've been crushing birth control pills into her morning vitamins for the last eight months. If she got pregnant, I'd be trapped." The world suddenly tilts on its axis. The air leaves my lungs, as a faint gasp escapes my lips. Tears spill down my eyes, as my heart bleeds. My husband hadn't just cheated on me. He had drugged me to keep me from having the one thing I wanted most in this world, a child. That explains why I added weight sporadically. The pills did this to me. And I’d spend eight months blaming myself and trying everything I can to lose weight just to be perfect for him. The sadness instantly evaporates, and my fists clench at my sides. All I can feel is a blinding, white-hot rage. Without a second though, I kick the bathroom door open so hard it rebounds off the wall with a deafening crack. They both jump, seperating their genitals. Cassandra shrieks, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts. Ronan freezes, his face draining of color before his eyes dart over my body—taking in the outfit I’d forced myself in for him. "Elena," he starts, but I hold up a shaky hand. "Don't. Don't even try to speak," I spit out, my voice vibrating with fury. I wait for the remorse. I wait for him to fall to his knees and beg, even though I know I won’t forgive him. But Ronan, the spoiled, narcissistic coward I had sacrificed everything for, just sneeres. He straightens, a mocking grin flashing on his pretty face. "You know what? Good. I'm glad you heard," he says, his eyes raking over my body with pure disgust. "Look at yourself, Elena. You look like a stuffed sausage in that lingerie. You're boring, you're heavy, and you expect me to just pretend I'm attracted to you? I'm a man. I have needs." "I gave you everything!" I scream, the betrayal ripping my chest wide open. "I paid for your life! I starved myself just to look perfect for you, while you drugged me everyday." "And you're still fat," Cassandra cuts in from the bed, a smug, wicked smile plastered on her face. I glare at her, and the next thing I know, I’m unleashing my anger on her, grabbing her hair and trying to rip it from her scalp. “Call me fat one more time!” I bite out, while she screams, flailing her skinny arms to scratch at me. Ronan suddenly grabs my shoulder from behind and yanks me so hard that I fall on the ground. Pain shoots through my body. “Don’t you dare touch my Cassandra, you fat b***h!” he barks, wrapping his arms around her to comfort her, while I just lie there. I look at both of them—at the trash I had let ruin my life. Without another word, I pull myself to my feet, grab my winter trench coat from the armchair, and throw it over my lingerie. "I hope you both rot in hell," I hiss, and walk away. I storm out, ignoring Ronan yelling my name. Immediately I step out, freezing Chicago rain pours down on me. Pulling my coat tight around me, I practically throw myself into the Mercedes parked in the driveway. It was the car I bought for him, but now, I’m taking it back My hands shake violently as I gripped the steering wheel. I need to get far away from here as fast as possible. I need to feel something other than the betrayal and pain cutting deep in my chest. I need to know that I’m not a repulsive, discarded piece of garbage. I need to be f****d. I yank open the center console, looking for a tissue to wipe my nose. Instead, a heavy, matte-black metal card falls onto the passenger seat. I pick it up. It has no details written on it, except for an embossed crest and a single word in gold lettering: THE VAULT. It’s address is written behind it. I know what it was. Ronan's wealthy friends have talked about it. It’s an elite, underground b**m club where the city's millionaires and billionaires go to indulge their darkest and most brutal fantasies. Now, I have direction. I slam my foot on the gas and drive. Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in a dark alleyway in front of a pair of massive iron doors. An intimidating, giant bouncer steps out of the shadows. I don’t say a word as I nervously hold up the black metal card for him to see. The bouncer looks at the card, then looks at me. Without a word, or even a warm welcome, he steps aside. The heavy metal doors of The Vault opens slowly. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I step into the underworld.