CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MIRA

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Christian is a sadist.

Any doubt I may have had vanishes an hour later as he drags me to the edge of release only to stop. To leave me sweaty and breathless, a mindless creature desperate for whatever little pleasure he allows me.

“Quiet, Mira,” he says with a cruel smirk that mirrors the twisted pleasure in his eyes. “You know what will happen if you wake him up.”

The nick he’d given my right breast burns in reminder. It’s no bigger than a thumbnail and as shallow as a papercut, but the surprise of it, the sting had stunned me into silence.

“I warned you,” he’d drawled after licking the droplet of blood clean with his tongue.

I nearly came from that sight alone, but — like the threat of waking Daniel — the punishment for cumming without his say was worse.

“Days,” he’d growled into my ear while pumping his cock into my convulsing body. “No cumming. We’ll take turns with you, but you get nothing.”

I wish I could say I hate what he’s doing to me, what he’s forced me to do while Daniel lies a few feet away, but, God, no. I love it with equal measure.

He’s so cold. Methodical. His torture is vicious and still I’m soaking the bed. Soaking his cock every time he drives it inside me. His hand.

The handle of his sanitized knife.

“Look at you being such a good little whore for your uncle,” he’d taunted. “You’ll fuck whatever I put in here, won’t you?”

I was so past shame and mortification that his ruthless heckling only made me wetter. He wasn’t wrong. My sex is a swollen patch of need he has hypersensitized so masterfully, I would crawl through glass just to feel one finger inside me.

“Turn over. Hands stay on the bars.”

The position has my wrists crossing over my head, but I twist over, slightly catching on the tattered ruins of my shredded top.

Most of it was sliced off by his knife. Some of it torn under his punishing hands. It’s safe to say the shirt is garbage after this.

The same hand presses into the back of my head, stuffs my face into my pillow as he takes me from behind. The iron bars cut into my damp palms, but I hang on. Taking the spirals of beautiful pain spooling in my belly with every assault. The feathers catch my raspy whines for more.

His movements are slow and measured. He’s so careful not to jostle the mattress, shake the bed, make any sound as he terrorizes me. He reaches around and brushes his fingers over my clit. I can feel him and me, and probably Daniel from earlier dripping in a steady patter from my lips, but I know he doesn’t care about that. His only mission is to make sure my clit never stops pulsing.

He pulls out just long enough to reach for one of the many dark shapes I can barely make out on the nightstand. I hear a pop before he returns.

Cold, slippery liquid drizzles down the crack of my ass. It rolls down my opening and follows the stream off my lips to the mattress.

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass, sweetheart?”

I shake my head, but the muscle in question clenches reflexively as I realize what he’s about to do.

“Me neither. Earlier, what you did, that was my first.”

I feel a bit of pride in that. The gesture had caught even me by surprise. I never would have with Daniel. His blow jobs are always dominating and controlling. He wants to be the one fucking. Christian had been so relaxed, so adorable. Hearing him biting back his noises had been such a thrill. It made me want to do more just to make him lose that control.

It had been amazing.

A light swat hit the side of my ass, pulling me back to the lube he’s rubbing into my back entrance.

“Stop that,” he tells me with a hint of amusement.

I must have been clenching around him without realizing, but fuck him. He’s been torturing me for a damn hour and I know it’s been an hour because he keeps whispering how long it’s been. So, if a little clenching is putting a wrench in his sadistic fun...

I squeeze the muscles hugging his veiny girth.

“You better stop,” he warns in a breathless growl.

I draw forward and slam back against him, rolling my hips on the downward plunge. His low, hissing curse elicits a grin from me that dies with the thrust of his thumb inside my ass.

“I told you to stop,” he pants, pulling out only to drive two fingers in.

Two!

My nerves scream even as my own cry of pain is lodged in my chest and caught in my pillow.

He snickers as he fucks both holes with slow, even drives. I can feel the rub of his fingers and dick through the thin membrane separating the two, can feel the stretch and pull of my unused channel accommodating him.

“You’re loving this,” he mocks. “You like the pain, don’t you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I meet his every thrust — so close. “No...”

I don’t miss his low chuckle or the way his free hand smooths over the globe of my right ass cheek. He caresses the flesh before tracing a slow circle.

“You need a matching mark on your other side.”

I realize he means Daniel’s bite mark and I shiver at the thought of having another one from Christian on the other side.

“Mark me, Christian,” I whisper.

I hear his deep, rumbling groan wash through the room, barely controlled.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, but not tonight.”

I’m only given a second to feel my disappointment before he’s pulling away from me. I’m dragged down onto my back. I keep my arms up because he hasn’t told me to pull them down yet.

He notices and his kiss is breathtaking. It curls my toes and rushes down my body with the consistency of warm honey.

“Such a good, fucking girl,” he breaths into my ear. “Good girls get a treat.”

Excitement shoots through me as he twists his body over and reaches for something else on the nightstand. I don’t see what it is until I hear the familiar, faint buzz and his lips are at my ear once more.

“Found this under your pillow.” My vibrator slips between my thighs, my lips and grazes my clit. “It smells like your pussy.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as he moves the silicone back and forth over all my swollen nerve endings.

“Don’t cum, Mira,” he coaxes.

“You ... you said I was getting a treat,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

The toy penetrates my vagina. Its little slender shape does nothing to fill my walls the way the boys do, but the vibration makes up for it.

“You will,” he says. “The night isn’t over. I still have so much fun for us planned.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry as he slides up and around my clit with the tip.

“Please, Christian, please let me cum. It’s been hours!”

“An hour and a half,” he corrects. “Not yet.”

Hot tears burn my eyes as frustration builds in my throat. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because, my darling little brat, I can. Because you suffer so sweetly. Because your pain makes me so fucking hard.”

Without warning, the device has nudged my back entrance and is lodged in my ass.

I don’t know what I feel first.

Surprise?

Horror?

Pain?

Everything avalanches over me in a crashing wave that only intensifies when Christian climbs over me and pushes himself in, too.

The combination of the persistent humming and Christian’s steady thrusting, I know I’m not going to make it.

“If you cum, Mira my love, I will start all over again,” he threatens in my ear as my body shudders and tightens.

“Asshole!” I sob.

He snickers still fucking me, still driving deeper, faster inside me until I feel his cock bulge and twitch. Hot cum hits my walls and leaks down my ass to cover the handle of my toy.

Christian pushes up onto his hands to peer down my humming body to where he’s still buried inside me. He reaches down and pinches my clit. Hard.

My cry is immediately silenced with the clap of his palm over my mouth and his harsh, “Quiet!”

But my bundle is still squeezed between his thumb and index. He’s still tugging and twisting. And I can’t breathe as I try to scream, but he keeps it contained behind his hand.

With his hand still in place, he releases my helpless muscle and reaches for something on the nightstand.

“Do not fucking scream, Mira,” he warns and lifts his palm.

I’m wheezing and panting and can barely see through the sweat and tears blinding me, but I jump when cold metal slides across my clit. My body twitches even as panic slices through me.

I blink and try to focus on his hands buried in the shadows between my legs. Something glints. Scissors?

“Christian...”

He must have heard the fear in my voice because he stops and moves over me. He bends and kisses me gently.

“I won’t ever hurt you. If I do and you want me to stop at any time, just say red. I don’t care what’s happening or how far in we are. I will always stop, understand?”

I nod and he skims his lips over mine again.

“What’s your safeword?”

I take a deep breath. “Red.”

“And you will use it, okay? I will never get upset if you do.”

Feeling assured, I drop back as he moves back between my legs. The distraction helped a bit. The blazing inferno has calmed slightly, chased away by panic, but it’s still there and returns to full bloom when the metal pieces clamp on either side of my clit and squeezes.

Pliers!

Needle nose pliers are strapped around my nerve endings with a single elastic across the handles to keep it shut.

It doesn’t hurt. The elastic must not be pulled tight enough, but the pressure, the weight of the arms pulling is a whole other sensation, especially when Christian is licking the tiny piece of pink flesh poking up between the prongs and my vibrator is sending coils of electricity across my body.

He tugs and nudges the pliers every chance he gets while sucking on my nipples. The tool is given just enough pull to mimic the motions of his lips.

I’m doing my best not to cum.

I’ve done everything in my power to think about literally anything that isn’t the way he’s playing my body like it’s his personal playground. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, especially when he releases my clit, and the rush of blood has my head reeling.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, the real fun is only just starting.”