29. Renzo

29

Igrip the hilt of my knife, Soulcarver, as I run the blade along the sharpening stone. The metallic scrape sends shivers down my spine. Tonight's the night. Camila. Sweet, innocent Camila. She has no idea what's coming.

I can't help but chuckle darkly as I test the blade's sharpness against my thumb. A bead of crimson wells up, and I lick it off, savoring the coppery taste. It's just a small taste of what's to come.

My thoughts are racing, jumping from one delicious scenario to the next. I imagine Camila's soft skin yielding under my blade, her screams of pain and pleasure echoing in my ears. I'll make her beg for more, beg for me to stop until she doesn't know the difference anymore.

I can barely contain my excitement, setting Soulcarver down and picking up another knife, running my fingers along the serrated edge. Each has a purpose, a special way to make Camila squirm and writhe.

I wonder if she'll cry when I cut her or if she'll moan like the little slut I know she is. Maybe I'll make her lick her own blood off my blade. The thought makes me hard.

I glance at the clock, my leg bouncing impatiently. Just a few more hours until playtime. Until I can make Camila mine in every way possible.

I grin at the mirror, a manic glint in my eye, as I imagine all the ways I'll break her tonight. She'll never be the same after I'm done with her. And that's just the way I like it.

I stare at the array of masks lining my bedroom wall, each unique. My fingers trail over the Call of Duty ghost mask. I consider the possibilities it presents, imagining the fear in Camila's eyes when she sees its stark whiteness looming over her. The same fear I saw the first time.

But no, not tonight.

I focus on the Ghostface mask, its simple yet haunting facade concealing identity while allowing intimacy through the mouth and eyes. I run my tongue over the rough edges of its scream, imagining eliciting those same screams from Camila's lips.

Shaking my head, I know that's not right either. I want her to see my face, to look into my eyes while I subject her to my darkest desires. Let her see the barely contained madness lying just beneath the surface.

Next, I examine the tactical masks, their aggressive design speaking to the animalistic urges I can barely control. Full-faced, complete anonymity to act without consequence, unrestrained by society's rules. Tempting but too detached from what I have planned. Half-faced, allowing me to expose just enough humanity to lure my prey in before revealing the monster within.

My eyes are drawn to an all-black metal one with a grill over the mouth. Yes, this is the one. This mask embodies the blend of humanity and monster I want my bookworm to be acquainted with tonight. I grab it off the wall, turning it in my hands. Camila is a pretty little prize. And tonight, I will get to experience her cunt wrapped around my dick while she stares at me with the intoxicating mix of fear and desire.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror on my wall, I feel the transformation taking hold. I am no longer simply Renzo. Tonight, I become something more—an embodiment of fear and domination.

I grin to myself, running my fingers over the array of knives laid out before me. Each one is perfectly honed and ready for my special brand of playtime. A knock at the door interrupts my preparations.

"Come in," I call out, not bothering to look up.

The door opens, and Dante steps inside cautiously. "Hey Ren, what you doing?"

I chuckle. If Dante's back, our princess is, too, because he's been on Camila duty today. "I'm just getting ready for tonight. Elio's permitted me to play with our little captive however I want."

Dante frowns, clearly uneasy. "That seems like a bad idea."

I slam my fist on the table, anger flaring up instantly. How dare Dante question me? Doesn't he understand I've been waiting for this? Craving it?

"Listen to me very carefully," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "You don't get a say in this. Elio has given me control tonight, and I fully intend to indulge. So do yourself a favor and stay the hell out of it."

Dante puts his hands up in surrender, but I can see the concern in his eyes. It only serves to fuel my adrenaline more. He has no idea what I'm capable of.

I pick up one of my knives, turning it slowly in my hands. The overhead light glints off the razor-sharp edge. I can't resist running my tongue along it, relishing the metallic tang.

"I've been dreaming about this for weeks," I continue. "Imagining all the ways I can make my little bookworm scream. And now that the time has finally come, nothing will get in my way."

Dante just shakes his head. "Careful, Ren. Don't take it too far." But his words lack conviction. He knows better than to push me when I'm in this state.

"Get out. I've got work to do."

Dante turns and leaves without another word. As soon as the door clicks shut, I feel myself descending into beautiful, blissful madness. Tonight will be a masterpiece of agony and ecstasy. And little Camila has the starring role.

I secure the mask and stare at myself in the mirror, loving the darkness that stares back. Soon, Camila's nightmare will begin. She'll never forget this face for as long as she lives. That's something I guarantee.