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1087 Words
"Take off your clothes."
The words were sharp. Unfeeling. Like a blade slicing through the tense silence of the dimly lit room.
Izzy’s heart slammed against her ribs. She felt the air leave her lungs as her entire body stiffened.
Had she heard him correctly?
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“P-Pardon?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Seth’s jaw clenched. His broad frame was still, but there was something in his stance—something dangerous, something unreadable—that sent a chill up her spine. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and his dark eyes pinned her in place.
“Are you deaf?” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
Her stomach twisted into knots.
“No, sir…” she whispered, her pulse pounding so hard it roared in her ears.
His expression didn’t change. If anything, it hardened.
“Then why the hell aren’t you doing what I told you to do?”
A violent shudder tore through her, and for a second, she thought she might faint.
This was it.
She had known what she was getting into the moment she walked into this room. The moment she made the decision to sell herself for money—money she didn’t have, money she desperately needed.
For Mom.
She forced the thought through her mind like a knife carving into wood.
Slowly, her trembling hands reached for the hem of her shirt.
The fabric felt heavy. Suffocating. Like she was peeling away her dignity with it.
Her vision blurred as she pulled the garment over her head, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.
"Take everything off. I don’t want a single piece of clothing left on you."
His voice sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over her.
Izzy bit her lip, her fingers fumbling as she reached behind her back. Her bra came loose, the straps slipping down her shoulders like silk. She hesitated—just for a moment—before letting it fall to the floor.
Her hands instinctively moved to cover herself, but she knew that wasn’t allowed.
Her stomach twisted painfully as she unbuttoned her jeans. She hesitated, then slid them down her legs, stepping out of them one foot at a time.
Finally, with one last shaky breath, she slipped off her underwear.
There.
She stood in front of him, completely exposed.
The weight of his gaze burned into her skin, and she hated it.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
No one had ever seen her like this before. No one was ever supposed to.
Even when life had been cruel—when she had nothing—her mother had always told her, Hold on to your dignity, Isabel. No matter how hard things get.
But dignity wouldn’t pay hospital bills. Dignity wouldn’t save her mother’s life.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She wanted to disappear. To melt into the shadows of the room and never be seen again.
Then—
A sudden, tight grip on her arm.
Izzy gasped. Her eyes flew open in shock as Seth grabbed her.
His touch was firm. Unyielding.
His jaw clenched, and for the first time, there was something in his expression—something simmering beneath the surface.
"You can’t offer what you can’t give, Isabel Carter."
His voice was lower now, rougher.
She swallowed hard. “I-I know… That’s why I’m trying… I-I have to do this… for my mom…”
Her voice broke on the last word.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she didn’t even try to stop them anymore.
Seth’s grip on her arm tightened—just slightly. His nostrils flared.
For a moment, he said nothing. Just stared at her.
And then—
"Sit in that chair."
Izzy hesitated.
His voice was quieter, but no less commanding.
She moved on autopilot, lowering herself onto the plush leather seat.
Her body felt stiff. Her skin prickled with humiliation.
She barely had time to steady her breathing before his next words shattered what little composure she had left.
"Show me how you pleasure yourself."
The command hung in the air like a slap.
Her entire body locked up.
Her breath hitched.
She felt like she had been plunged into ice water.
No.
She couldn’t.
She didn’t even know how.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Seth’s expression didn’t change.
Her stomach twisted painfully.
She forced herself to swallow.
For the surgery… You need fifty thousand dollars, Isabel.
Her hands trembled violently as they moved between her legs.
“Wider.”
She flinched.
"When I say wide, I mean wide, Isabel. I want to see what you’re doing."
Her breath came in shallow gasps.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Her shoulders shook.
She couldn’t do this.
A choked sob slipped past her lips.
And suddenly—
"That’s enough!"
His voice sliced through the tension.
Izzy’s eyes flew open.
Before she could react, Seth yanked her up from the chair.
She stumbled against him, her hands instinctively clutching his shirt for balance.
“Get dressed and get the f*ck out of here.”
His voice was raw. Unforgiving.
“B-but sir, I-I need—”
“I don’t give a sh*t what you need.” His jaw ticked, his grip tightening. “I need my woman crying out of pleasure while I’m f*cking her, not sobbing before anything even starts.”
Izzy flinched at his words.
A bitter, broken sound escaped her lips—half a laugh, half a sob.
He shoved her back onto the couch.
Then he grabbed her clothes and threw them at her.
“Get dressed and leave. When I come back, I don’t want to see you here.”
Izzy’s hands shook as she scrambled to put her clothes back on, her mind spinning.
Seth turned away.
He had to.
If he looked at her any longer, he wasn’t sure what he would do.
He had expected desperation. He had expected tears.
But he hadn’t expected this.
He hadn’t expected to feel anything.
And he hated it.
Because for the first time in his life, he didn’t despise the woman trying to sell herself.
He despised himself.
He clenched his fists and forced himself to leave.
As he strode out of the room, the image of Isabel curled up on that couch—shaking, fragile, broken—seared itself into his mind.
And for reasons he couldn’t explain…
It f*cking haunted him.
- Writer
