“Just me,” or “good girl,” I murmured now and then. Most of the bruises had faded. A new canvas for pain. Already I could imagine her squeals.
Thank god she couldn’t hear my nasty thoughts.
What was the name for a man like me? Pain-oholic sounded right though fucked-up would do too.
I started checking her body again, turning her a little this way and that with my hands at her waist, bending to kiss her back, her nape, while wondering where it would be too dangerous for those sharp points to rest. Bad was anywhere that blood would spill badly if punctured, or that would choke her, or maim her permanently. Not her throat, not her face. God, no.
Her mouth was in mid-pout, her feet flat on the floor, muscles quiet. She seemed...at rest, calm. My handling and talking had relaxed her.
I inhaled. Damn. She trusted me.
“I’m starting now.”
I began to wind on the wire, beginning with her legs. Sometimes I’d be brought up short by a glimpse of a particularly fascinating part of her body or by the leak of blood where a wire scratched her pale skin. Or, worst of all, by a restrained whimper. Those quiet female noises grabbed me every time. They were like the scent of prey to a hound on a trail. Fresh meat. Something to devour.
I’d catch myself looking or listening, shake myself, and move on. I lessened the cruelty by stroking her as I went. With the lick of my tongue and nips of teeth, I laid the ground for the course of the wire. I found ways to help her feel more than pain. I sucked on her nipples, ran my hands over her mound and all the while I desperately tried to stay disengaged.
Impossible...but I kept trying.
The wire was starting to restrict her responses to pleasure. Her body would undulate then she’d hiss or whimper, catch herself, and stiffen.
Once only, I kissed her. The softness of her lips contrasted with the hardness of the metal across her belly. I held my bare hand against the wire as I moved her lips aside with my tongue.
Her moans then that gorgeous flinch from the metal while I breathed into her mouth, kissed her hard, and penetrated her mouth with my tongue...it was so addictive.
My heart did away with blood and pumped obsession.
Where the barbs dug in just under her nipples and below her breasts, or where they pressed on her mons above her clit, I had problems. Some things were too mouthwatering to avoid seeing. My inner sadist was being bad.
Sharp and deadly versus soft and vulnerable. Like fire to an arsonist, searing me, searing her.
Move on.
But the urge, ohmigod, the fucking urge took me in its vice, ground me up, spat me out all delirious. Those glittering shards embedded in my mind.
I retreated, backed away, breathing hard, stood there with my hands at my sides, overwhelmed.
I could look at this forever, my siren in wire.
“Pieter?” She searched blindly for me, carefully, so as not to rub on wire. “Where are you? Please?”
My cock was begging me so much I’d have fucked her in an instant.
Didn’t matter, none of it. The alternative was Gregor. I could help her still.
I understood now. A man faced with a beautiful naked woman parading on a beach could look away, but gift him with that woman to touch and play with and he’d have no hope of staying calm. Neither did I, when handed this.
She couldn’t see the state I was in.
I wiped my mouth and stepped closer. “I’m here.”
When it came to switch on the vibe, I flicked the cord out of the way then I took one look at my wire-wrapped beauty.
There were gaps, there was looseness, but I had no idea what would happen when she came.
“We are ready, Mister Pieter! Make it good.”
I stepped up and squashed the rounded head of the vibe to her clit, nestled it in so the lips of her pussy bulged out around it.
“Ready, meisie?”
Her mouth opened and I paused a moment to admire the swell of those ripened curves. Even there, she mesmerized me. I pressed the switch.
The hum made her hiss and arch instantly then jerk back as the wire’s points dug in.
My heart thumped but I held the vibe in position.
Her little whines built in intensity as the climax came over her. She screamed then rocked and juddered into the vibe, her thighs tensing, but little else of her moving. Surprising to me, how fast that had arrived. Thirty seconds?
“More, Mister Pieter!”
I didn’t need prompting. I’d left her nipples bare of wire so I pulled and pinched them as I revolved the vibe’s head in small circles.
She shook her head, begging. “Not...more. Not yet.”
“Shh.”
“No!”
I undid the blindfold. Eye contact might help her.
Then I put my whole hand on her mouth, listening to the hiss of air through her nose to make sure she could breathe. She looked at me, then down, focusing on my hand, as if fascinated by my hold on her. As I worked at her clit, her eyes hazed and her hips arched out, until the wires must be hurting. The tips dented her skin. This time, her screams and whole body shudders lasted for ages. Small droplets of blood trickled down her upper thighs. Sweat stood out on her brow.
Her gasps and screams through my fingers had been...enthralling. Watching her come while in pain...like this. Fok.
I stepped back, still holding the vibe, to wipe my forearm across my face. My breathing was a little chaotic. The vibe hummed on while I counted. It was thirty-five before she recovered and relaxed and her hands uncurled from the chains above.
But there was blood. I frowned and dragged myself out of my sadistic study.
I’d failed a little by enjoying this, but I’d succeeded too. She wasn’t injured, just scratched.
“More, Mister Pieter!”
Shit.
“Last time,” I yelled back at them. No reply. I took a deep breath and approached her.
My relief when she came again and no one screamed more at me was immense.
There was some fresh bleeding on her stomach. I’d check that when the wires came off.
Before I could unwrap her, they ordered me to back away and be restrained. I bowed my head a moment before obeying.
The lock of the cuffs on my wrists brought Gregor into the room.
“You were a little too gentle and look.” He went to one knee and picked up the silver bracelet with the angel. “She has to wear this or I punish her. You know this angel, hey?” He nodded at Jasmine.
Her lips trembled. Above her head, her fingers tightened on the chains making them sway and clink.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“It was my fault!”
But he ignored me, tugged on the gloves I’d dropped, and began to roughly remove the wire.
“My fault! Not hers.” I seethed.
“Never mind. Next time you will know. Be silent or this will be worse for her.”
I lost count of the new scratches he created and the slaps he gave her face and breasts. Jazmine was sobbing uncontrollably by the end, streaked with red like a cake iced entirely the wrong way.
Yet another point on the list of reasons to kill him.
When I ground my teeth, the guards near me laughed. So many people to kill, so little time. I gave myself some gold stars for caring. They almost cancelled out the black marks I’d gained for wallowing in her pain.
By the time they delivered me to her room, she was there, waiting, naked except for the blood. Exhaustion blurred my mind, but I went to her.
The distress and her choked out noes drove me away for all of half a minute before I growled, advanced again, and tucked her into my arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I rocked her a while, aghast at how much I’d done to her. Not all of it had been Gregor’s fault.
Now that I had her, she didn’t move at all. That scared me most of all. She hadn’t forgiven me for the boy. What was going on in her thoughts?
; Chapter 18
“Come. You have to clean off the blood. Don’t stay too long. It’ll keep the wounds from clotting if you do.” A voice like the tide coming in, soft and persuasive. With his big hands on my back, he herded me to the shower then turned it on, held me there a second, as if afraid I’d fall, or wander off...
Mute, blank, nothing happening in my head, I stood there with the cold water pouring down me, stirring up the pains. I hissed but with time the pain dulled. Cold. I shivered.
At least some of the bad seemed to wash away in the flow.
The things they’d done to me.
Maybe I deserved it. Maybe. My tears mingled with the water. I’d done bad things in life. Maybe this was karma. My eyelids drifted down.
I stood there, being washed away, being hurt.
But it wasn’t Pieter. It was him, Gregor. The dismissive, casual violence he did to me, as if I were nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing in this awful world. I was a piece of dirt to him, a piece of temporary enjoyment. Gregor would kill me as easily as he’d crack an egg.
I opened my eyes and put my palms on the white wall, leaned in.
As each blow of his had bruised me, the pain had hammered me down inside. Why did what Gregor did or thought matter? I despised him. I gave him power by letting anything he did to me hurt.
Pieter was different. Even when he’d killed that boy, he’d said it was his only option, that he did it for me. I hated the boy dying. Yet the why of it...it made Pieter more in my eyes. Even if he hurt me and did what Gregor asked with no protest at all, he was my warped hero.
Everything that happened in this place was dirtied.
The water was helping. Under it, with the roar in my ears, I felt protected in some weird way. Here was safety.
Of course, Pieter didn’t protest because that might make things worse for me. Everything he did here seemed aimed at me. He liked hurting me but the difference between his type of pain and Gregor’s was vast and puzzling. I didn’t really understand why he helped me. I didn’t understand why he liked hurting me. Worst of all, I didn’t understand how he made me like it.
When my shivering started again, I stirred.
Don’t stay long. It’d been ages, hadn’t it? My mind wasn’t functioning well.
Where had he gone?
I shut off the water and dripped dry, watching the droplets dribble down the strands of my hair, down my legs, then into the drain. Still, he didn’t come to me.
The towel was a gray-white but by the time I’d dried myself it’d become a mess of pink, red, and gray. My belly leaked blood. My legs too. Watery blood. My breasts were patched with blue and dark red bruises. Those were from Gregor. I stuffed my face in the towel and breathed there shaking. Everything about me might fall apart if I moved. I shouldn’t have turned off the water.
“Give me that.” From behind, he took the towel from me and wrapped me up. Warmth. His body gave me something solid to lean into.
All my head seemed to register was that here was security. Safe again. Though he said something to me, I’d lost the ability to concentrate.
We were moving and at some point, somehow, we reached the bed. Once I hit the sheets, my thinking shut down and I was gone.
When I woke it was light still. Or was it morning? From the pallid color of the wall next to the bed, it was early morning. I’d slept and now I hurt. So stiff. Places unstuck as I rolled over, my head ending up half off the bed. The sheet slipped away. I was still without clothes.
Last night in the Room had really happened. I shut away a sudden vision of Gregor hitting me.
Was Pieter here? Had they taken him away? I panicked, stupidly, focusing through sleep-glued eyes. There he was.
He sat on the floor, back against the wall near the door, head shaded by his hands. This glowering man, who scared me as much as attracted me, was lost in some reverie.
None of my lovers, few in number that they were, had ever seen me exposed as rawly as he had. If they had, I doubted they’d have cared for me. I’d become so dirty. Sullied was the word. If only I could get home again and curl up in bed. If no one saw me, it wouldn’t matter.
A dream but a good one.
I wanted to be alone as much as I wanted to be with someone. Just look at what had happened here – people had messed up my beautifully organized life. Fuck them all.
I pried myself from bed, set my feet on the floor.
I limped to him, hesitated when I reached his side. When had I ever hugged anyone voluntarily? Over-effusive boyfriends never stayed with me long. Family gatherings were a nightmare.
But I longed to touch him, this man who had wrapped me in barbed wire.
Yes? No? Touching him by myself made my stomach twist. I stretched out my arm, my forefinger an inch from his shoulder. He was unaware.
I lowered my arm, willing him to turn and see me, because that would be so much better.
A strand of my hair grazed his cheek.
Then he did turn, and he looked at me and nodded, then hauled himself to his feet. He raised his hands as if to draw me close, only to lower them.
A pang of disappointment saddened me.
“How are you? I’m sorry, I was thinking.”
About what? A score of possibilities reared their heads.
The darkness I’d glimpsed in his expression daunted me. The man had demons. With his past, I expected that. Asking what he’d been thinking might give me more than I wanted right then.
I shrugged then winced. Tiredness dulled my reply. My jaw ached when I opened my mouth. “I’m sore.”
“Mmm.” His gaze travelled over me. I could see him stopping at each wound, a frown would touch his brow then he’d move on. “I wish we could do more than wash these down.”
“There are bandages and some sort of antiseptic.” I pointed at the plate bearing Gregor’s gifts. “They brought it yesterday.”
“They left it before they took you to the Room?”
I nodded, remembering how it had bothered me.
“Fok them. Fok them all to hell and back, but I can use it. Come to the middle so I can play doctors and nurses.” He flashed me a smile then waited, maybe to see if I had it in me to smile back.
Wrapped up in misery but grateful, I walked to the middle and pretended to be tough when he dabbed iodine on the cuts.
“Doesn’t look like you need stitches. These will hurt for days, you poor baby.”
Baby? How weird being called that and by this man who’d made some of these holes in me. Then he came in close. I dropped into flight or fight mode and stiffened.
He whispered into my ear, “I’m getting us out. You need hope. Here it is. I’ve figured a way.”
So soft. Had I imagined those words?
I stared at the wall like a robot then cautiously turned my head. He gave the slightest nod.
Last time I’d had hope it’d been the boy guard and look what had happened there.
A nightmare I’d never forget, while that boy would be silent forever, wherever they’d buried him. If they had. He could be lying out there somewhere in the jungle.
I blinked.
Pieter wasn’t a man for casual promises. Like Gregor, he reserved words for when he meant them.
The next burn of the iodine seemed to add fire to my mind. Getting out. If only.
My vengeful daydream surfaced.
Run to the police. Fuck them over. God, I prayed they’d all die horribly. Then dig to find out who organized this shithole torture palace. Someone could rip this enterprise open to the world with the right article. I could do it. I fucking could.
Please let it happen.
The pain from a dab zapped me back to earth. “Owie.” I ducked away, tried to shift my feet, only to be brought up short by his hand wrapped around my knee.
“Stay, girl.”
“I never thought I’d see you kneeling for me.”
Pieter grunted.
I might be a prisoner still, but I had hope now, because of him
.
He rose from where he’d been painting my thigh. Back in my real life, I’d have been horrified at a man doing this while I was naked.
“Better?” His question was loaded with extra significance.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
My thoughts tracked sideways. I needed hope but, oh my, if I wrote an exposé about this place, if we escaped, would it bring him down too?
I shook myself. Of all the things to worry about.
What a beautifully constructed man he was.
Even as I trailed my way along, from those biceps you could bounce a bullet off, to the thickness of his shoulders, to his small smile, I knew a truth. He wasn’t for me. I wasn’t for him. Some people were as opposite as the arctic and the middle of the sun. Sure, he could make me come a zillion times while he worked his magic with pain, and that had been such a revelation. But in my life? Mr. Let me hold you still while I fuck you and beat you? He adored pain. He killed without looking back.
Me, I could barely squash a cockroach.
I’d be more likely to invite a serial murderer to my bed. Ice trickled in my veins. For all I knew, he was one.
How many women had been through here and sold off as slaves? Too many. There was no doubt in me – given the chance for revenge by my usual means, the power of the word, I’d do it. Whether it hurt him or not.
Escape. Please let it be so.
He nestled his hands at my waist.
Accompanied by the bone-deep throb of bruises and the sting, that touch seemed to affirm some connection between us. Wrong. My pussy clenched. Stupid female reaction. I held my breath, resisting.
The intensity in his gaze added to his hold, as if he claimed me. What big brown eyes you have, sir. I shivered. The familiar pull and push. Running backwards until I hit the wall wrestled with staying in his hands.
I took a controlled yet ragged breath. Time to reclaim some me. “Let go. Please.”
When he did so I felt lighter, relieved, and bereft.
Chapter 19
If she wanted distance right now, I would give it to her even though every instinct in me said to give her a big hug. I wasn’t sure how she was even standing. She swayed as I looked at her. For a little librarian, she had strength in her, down deep, where it counted. Some of the men I’d worked and fought with could’ve learned from her. She bounced when others would shatter.
Seize me From Darkness (Pierced Hearts Book 4) Page 12