Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance

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by Savannah Rose


  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Fuck yourself,” she replied.

  Chapter Nineteen

  SOFIA

  The trouble with having a pet is that you have to take care of it if you want it to live.

  I didn't want Maddox to live, which made our current scenario such a weird juxtaposition. The fates are funny like that, and as I've heard it said, everything happens for a reason. My 'everything' was wrecking the Insatiable, which led me to the 'reason'. I'd found the shithead's Achilles heel.

  I'd known people like him, but never to his degree of perversion. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out this guy was a freak for his fetishes.

  The night I'd spent spread eagled on his bed like some double-D heroine in a bondage movie was a crash course in what made this fucker tick. He lived for his cock. He existed for his power. Maddox was nothing more than a ten-figure junkie, and his drugs of choice were sex and domination.

  And yessiree, withdraws were a bitch.

  Up until very recently, I didn't believe that sexual addiction was a real condition. The way he'd screamed, though, when I denied him his pleasure – brought him right up to the edge of his climax then took it away – I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. His anguish. His pain. It was fascinating. And no one deserved it more.

  That's why my waterproof notebook was becoming a journal. As I watched him pant like the dog he was, catching his breath after such a catastrophic denial, I wrote down my observations.

  As I sat on the outcrop of rocks, waiting for a fish to bite and listening to the roar of the waves, I contemplated how I felt about it.

  They were new feelings. Very foreign to me. I'd have to marinate on them for a while, but I suspected – just as I suspected Maddox's fuck-reliance could be used against him, ten points for me – I could grow to like those feelings.

  I'd been a zombie for so long. Grieving was the only emotion I knew. All the better to enjoy myself, and being able to take revenge on the son of a bitch responsible for my misery was a gift from the gods.

  The fates are funny like that.

  So, to take care of him in a sense was a reasonable give-and-take.

  I'd give.

  I'd take.

  I'd love every god damn minute of it.

  Even if it killed him. Especially if it killed him.

  I thought these lovely things as I washed my knife. A clean campsite is a happy camp site, and this little island had all the possibilities of becoming the happiest place on earth.

  I swirled the boa around in the pot I was using to hold gray water, brought it out, and watched the drips fall from the blade. One by one. They were like tears.

  “Hey, Sofia?”

  I didn't turn around.

  “Sofee, the cuffs. They're really hurting.”

  Next to the pot, the rag-gag. It was super disgusting. And he was whining.

  I took the knife, and the gag, back to where he was tied. His eyes got satisfyingly wide when he saw the shredded fabric in my hand. Parts of it had become stiff with dried fluids.

  “Are you complaining, Maddy? Because I hate complainers. You're not a girly man, are you?” I asked, kneeling beside him. He tried to back away, but of course he couldn't go anywhere. “Nah. Maddox isn't a pussy. He's a big strong guy. He likes to tie women up because he's so big and strong and he has to show them just how big and strong he is. That he can do things to them that no other man has ever done. Hurt them like no other man has ever hurt them.”

  I set the knife beside me, and snapped the rag in front of his face.

  “Manly Maddy. He's a whiner, whiner, pants on fire,” I sang, and went to stuff it in his mouth. He shook his head, desperately, then craned his neck to the side, as far as he could.

  “I won't talk, alright? I won't.”

  “There's nothing wrong with talking. It's the pissing and moaning that I really can't stand.”

  “Well, what… what do you want to talk about?”

  Oh, interesting tactic, I thought. That gets an A for effort. He was also pleading with me in a roundabout way, and I found that pleasing in its haplessness.

  “What should we talk about, dear?”

  He turned back to me, still staring at his gag. Then he looked me in the eyes.

  “Whatever you want.”

  A smirk etched my lips. “Golly. Whatever I want? That's so bighearted of you. Hmm, let, me, think…” I stroked the handle of my knife, then took it up from the sand, wiped the granules away from it, and tapped it against my temple. Gave it a one Mississippi, two Mississippi. Three. “Oh! I know!”

  I scampered over to my supplies, took his special bag from the midst of it, then brought it back over.

  I was jubilant. A kid at Christmas. A dark, disturbed kid. And a creepy, horrible Christmas. I opened the bag and put my hands inside.

  “You brought so many things for our trip! You're not a light packer, that's for sure,” I chuckled. “And for the life of me, I don't know what half of this stuff is for. I mean, I know you're a sexual fruit cake, but who needs this many toys? Someone who can't get it up? That isn't a problem with you, though, Maddy, now is it? Are these just for games? Games you like to play?”

  “Yes,” he said. Quietly, too. Almost like he was embarrassed. Except, I knew that wasn’t the case because Maddox didn’t do embarrassed.

  “Do your lady friends like to play your games?”

  “I… I never hurt anybody.”

  “Bullshit!” I screamed, and he flinched. Actually flinched. That was a genuine reaction. A fearful, involuntary response. I'd have to note the instinct in my journal. “You do hurt people, you asswiping son-of-a-fuck, and you're so smug, so conceited, you don't even know it. And the really fucked up part is, even if you did know…? You wouldn't care. That view you have from your ivory fucking tower is a dandy one, Maddox, but it's too high. You're so far off the ground you can't see anything for what it really is.”

  “I don't know what you're –”

  “Shut up,” I said, and found just the right accessory for what I was just talking about. A blindfold. How perfect was that? I twirled it on my finger, and smiled at it. Smiled at him. “This is your view, Maddy,” I said, and tied it around his head. Pulled it tight. Real tight. “Here's what you actually see.”

  His breath was already becoming ragged. Hitched.

  “You're a blind man, you bastard. A blind man with perfect vision,” I said, and put my hand against his cheek. Traced his cut with my fingertips. Watched as his chest expanded with deep, aggravated inhale, then exhale.

  He really did have the perfect body. Lean and muscled, pecs that may as well have been sculpted from stone. His abdomen was ripped, too. A literal six pack – the kind nobody actually has outside of airbrushed magazine covers – and I found myself strangely attracted to it. Human beings are wired that way. So primitively. With all our knowledge and science and technology… deep down? We’re animals. Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

  Maddox was a beast of a specimen. But he was also a trapped and helpless beast. All he could move were his legs, digging the heels of his feet into the sand as I drew my hand down his jawline, to his throat.

  Now that he was blind, every other sense was magnified, and I was quite sure touch was topping the list. My touch.

  “Do you like that, Maddy?” I said, scraping my fingernails across his collar bones. I dug a little harder, a little deeper. Thin red lines appeared on his flesh, cat-claw scratches. I could play connect the dots with the splash of freckles on his skin. Freckles. Interesting. “I asked, do you like that?”

  He shook his head, scrunching his eyes closed and said, “...don't...”

  “Don't? Meaning you don't like it?” I glanced down below his waist. Sure enough, his special soldier was coming to attention. Phhbt. Soldier? More like a general. “I think you're lying, Maddy. Well, I mean, obviously you're lying. Are you saying you don't like me touching you?”

  “Unlock the cuffs,” he said through
a raspy, gritted voice.

  He was getting aggravated. I could hear the anger just below the surface. Rising to the top.

  “That's a silly thing to say,” I remarked, and reached behind me. I took one of his oh so secret toys from the bag. “You know I can't do such a thing. I won't do such a thing. But what I will do, since you said you don't like me touching you –”

  “I didn't say that. I didn't say that!” He kicked out at the sand, strained against the binds that wouldn't give even a single inch. The muscles in his neck protruded like cords of rope.

  “What I will do,” I said, and turned the little object on. It hummed in my hand, a jelly soft tube, no bigger than an egg. “Is let this do the touching for me.”

  He froze, recognized the sound of the little vibrator.

  From the looks of it, I would assume it was suitable for using on all genders. And for the briefest of moments, I thought of putting it against my nipple, just to see how it would feel. It would be better, though, to have him see me do that to myself. And now wasn't my turn. It was his.

  The little egg had a few settings, but I kept it on the one that felt as though it had a tiny rolling pins inside. They moved up and down the tube, in pulsing rhythms. Pretty ingenious. With one hand pushing against his chest, his gasping, heaving chest, I put the toy against his inner thigh. So he'd know it was there.

  “Is that better?”

  He didn't seem to be capable of answering, which made this even more fun. There was the tiniest bit of spittle in the corner of his mouth. I didn't find it appalling or gross. I found it very, very gratifying.

  “Yeah, I think that is better,” I cooed, and slipped the ring around his cock.

  His hitching breath stopped as the sensation began to work its magic. I hadn't used something like this before, yet, it was fairly self-explanatory.

  I pulled it up his shaft, then back down. Repeating as necessary. And to Maddox, it was very, very necessary. He was moaning, his legs no longer kicking, but stretched out in front of him, trying to lift his hips from the sand. He was craving it more, and more.

  I obliged him, squeezing the vibrator tighter. And tighter. Faster. All the while digging my nails into his chest.

  He was getting close. So close. His abdomen rose and fell, and I suspected he was trying not to moan, trying to keep it quiet as the orgasm began to knock on his door. That was the best part, when it began to announce itself on the threshold, hovering, teasing, waiting for you to beg.

  Maddox's jaw clenched, and I imagined he was digging his own nails into the palms of his hands as the toy and I continued to pleasure him.

  The gasps were wonderful. Even more so as they escalated to genuine groans.

  “You wanna come, Maddy?”

  His mouth parted. His breathing wasn't rhythmic anymore, just a random pattern of desperation. The release, that grand and glorious release was on its way, stalled in that marvelous, almost painful state. Right before it hits.

  “...y-yes, yes...” he managed, somehow.

  My knuckles went white on the ring. I wanted to grab a handful of flesh, but his chest was so tight, so muscled, all I could do was press my fingers in harder.

  I put my lips close to his ear. “Say the magic word.”

  He filled his lungs, held his breath, and a short, guttural moan locked in his throat. It was all he was able to do, in the seconds before he would climax.

  “Oops,” I whispered. “Too late.”

  I pulled off the ring, and tossed it back in his bag. Two points!

  I gave myself a little fist pump, hah-hah, then began untying the blindfold. I wanted to see his eyes, right now. I wanted to see what he was thinking. What he was feeling. Moreover, I wanted to see pain.

  He did not disappoint.

  Not sure if I'd call it shock, or the nth degree of disbelief. Perhaps a combination of the two. His eyes were wide, staring at me, and I swear he was hyperventilating. His dick was still hard, the drops of pre-ejaculatory celebrations dripping in sad disappointment down his shaft. All dressed up and nowhere to go, as it were. Those were kind of like tears, too. Like the ones that were making his eyes wet. Excellent.

  “Do you even know what the magic word is?” I asked him, watching him try to catch his breath. Watching him go back to a more… flaccid state. “Probably not, huh? I mean, why say 'please' when you've been handed everything on a silver fucking platter? So I guess it's reasonable. Pathetic and lame, not very polite, but reasonable.”

  “What… do you… want,” he spat through gritted teeth.

  “What kind of question is that? And what makes you think I want anything? Other than what I already have, I can't think of a god damn thing.”

  He blinked, slowly, looking at me as if I were some evil Amazonian empress descended from the planet Estrogenia.

  “They'll find us,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, maybe,” I shrugged. “Not for a while, though. A very long while, I'd imagine. They put the tracking system in the master cabin, which was a weird choice, but, hey. I'm not a sailor, so what do I know?” I crawled over to my water supply, and took up a bottle. Took a nice, long sip, and smacked my lips. Maddox was staring at me. “I smashed the shit out of it,” I said, and started giggling.

  “You're fucking nuts,” he announced in a revelatory fashion, as if informing himself the world was, indeed, round.

  I returned his glare, going from giggle to growl in two point two seconds.

  “And we have you to thank for it.”

  I replaced the bottle cap, and waited for him to respond. It looked like he didn't know how. I gestured around our little slice of paradise with my Arrowhead.

  “See all this, Maddy? Your doing. Your fault. No one but you to thank, or blame, so, gracias,” I said, getting to my feet.

  My back was a little stiff, and my knee winced at being bent for a time. Much too young to feel this damn old, as a country legend once crooned.

  Maddox shifted from side to side, searching his stupid memory banks for any recollection whatsoever. Aside from kidnapping and attempted sexual assault, he probably wasn't able to come up with much.

  I buckled up his bag of tricks – not wanting sand or sand chiggers to call it home – and brought it back to my side of camp. Next to my food, my survival kit. Mine, mine, mine. That last see-whatcha-get session was worthy of a piece of chocolate, so I helped myself to one, making sure Maddox was able to see me chewing its ooey, gooey deliciousness.

  He was starting to look a bit shitty, I thought. Bedraggled. Unkempt. Bastard, mother fucking cock sucker or not, he was a handsome piece of shit. And if I were to continue to enjoy myself the way I was, I'd rather he look better for the occasion. He needed a shower. Hell, I needed a shower. Which got me to thinking.

  Before he'd made the fatal, dumbass mistake of wandering into my neck of the island, I'd gone on a quick explore. I'd found a couple of flowering papaya trees – because as we know, life's funny like that – bird tracks, a handful of edible floras, and a lovely little pond. It was fed by a stream from the cliff above. Not what I'd call a waterfall, more of a water trickle. A nice, natural place to bathe without sand and saltwater getting in your private orifices.

  How I was going to get him there hadn't yet sprung to mind.

  “Sofia...?”

  “What,” I said flatly, licking the bit of chocolate from my fingers.

  “I'm sorry,” he said.

  I snorted. Although that had a wee more sincerity to it, I didn't believe it for a hot second. Mister Chairman of the Board and Everything Else in the World was a conniving little fuck.

  I figured he'd taken acting classes so he could come across as sympathetic and relatable when he was giving press conference, explaining why he had to pull the rug out from under other people's lives.

  “Tell it to the judge, asshole,” I said, and gave the survival kit one last search. Maybe it was like a purse. Purses eat things like keys and lipsticks and pill bottles, and it's only after you dump
the whole thing out does it barf up the belongings you were looking for. The stuff you swore was in there.

  “I'll just tell it to you,” Maddox said. “You're like a judge right now, anyway, so.” He paused to swallow over fake, forced emotion. “I'm sorry.”

  Same items as before. The candles, locking pot, compass. Paracord. Hmm. Paracord. I knew exactly how I was going to use that… and, wait. Just a second. There was a strip of Velcro on the inside, securing a compartment of sorts. How the shit did I miss that?

  “For whatever I did, or however I did it, I apologize, okay?”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Desperate words from a desperate man,” I said, pulling the Velcro away from itself. Damn. This was industrial strength stuff. Almost needed a crowbar here. “You're only saying shit you think I want to hear, so just knock it the fuck off.”

  “Why won't you tell me!?” he shouted, sounding a lot like he was going nuts.

  “Make up your mind, Maddox. You want to know what you did, or you want to know why I won't tell you? You don't get unlimited questions, here.”

  The Velcro compartment was being a total bitch. I gripped it with both hands, pulled it with more force than really should be necessary, and after a mighty struggle, separated it from itself.

  Bingo.

  A gun.

  Well, a flare gun, but the point is this little number could do some serious damage if pointed somewhere other than the sky. Say, at a certain deserving person's private parts. I took it from the compartment, and grinned.

  “Look what I found,” I said, displaying my new found treasure. “And they say there is no God.”

  His expression was exactly what I wanted. His eyes, rimmed with the red rage of anger, frustration, and fear, went wider than ever.

  “I say that's bullshit. Of course there's a God. He loves me, Maddy. And I can safely say with the most confidence of assurance, he does not feel the same about you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  SOFIA

 

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