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Beg For Me, My Love

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 696    |    Released on: 09/07/2025

had discreetly retreated to the back room, leaving Sophia and me in a bubble of tense silence. Her p

ay she looked at me, with a trust so complete it scared me. Then, the image shifted to the present: this cold, polished woman whose eyes held no trace

shame that was consuming me. My own studio, once my sanctuary, now felt like a c

ppy," Sophia said, her voice cutting

g the same old things, I see. All that passion, all that talk of 'authenticity.' And it led you... h

I managed to say, my voice

ed, snapping the sketchbook shut. "

art being co-opted and sanitized before it was even created. I wanted to tell her about her parents, about the che

I said weakly. "You

w, don't you?" Her eyes darted to the medical bill again. "Your sister. How convenien

or of my pride and pinpointed the desperate truth underneath. I was

attoo on my forearm, a simple wave pattern we had designed together years ago. Her touch was cold,

phy artist,' to be precise. You'll work exclusively for me, on projects I choose

me to a possession, an object she could own and display. The very thing I had fea

our pet. I'll do the tattoo, I'll take the money

"You're not in a position to negotiate, Etha

and held it between two fing

watch your 'authentic' world crumble around you. The choice is yours

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Beg For Me, My Love
Beg For Me, My Love
“The steady hum of my tattoo gun was usually my sanctuary, but today, it couldn't drown out the screaming numbers on Olivia' s medical bill-a crushing reminder that my artistic integrity wouldn't save my sister. Then the bell above the door chimed, and she walked back into my life, a ghost from a past I' d desperately tried to outrun. Sophia Davis, the woman I' d chosen to brutally abandon five years ago to protect her from my "unworthy" existence, now stood in my humble studio, elegant and cold, looking like she' d stepped straight off a magazine cover. She didn't come to reminisce; she came to collect, dropping a blank check on Olivia's bill and declaring, "I want to see you beg, Ethan." My pride demanded I refuse, but the image of Olivia's frail face forced the humiliating words from my lips: "Please, Sophia, I need this job. I... I'll do anything." She watched, her eyes gleaming with triumph, before labeling me her "trophy artist," a personal possession to be controlled. I thought I understood her cold, calculated revenge-until a late-night call from her best friend led me to Sophia, drunk and vulnerable, muttering, "Get Ethan. He's my dog. He has to come when I call." As I carried her home, the ice queen slipped, hinting at a pain just as deep as mine, and a lingering desire to see me.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 1012 Chapter 1113 Chapter 1214 Chapter 13