Her hair was fine! Or it had been, before they’d released it from the ponytail. Now it was all in her face, but without her voice, she couldn’t argue.
“She’ll manage,” Kenny said, tugging the leash gently when she hesitated at the steps. “Two steps, then the porch.”
She scrambled and managed the steps, face hot with shame, and then scurried across the porch and up the last step to stumble through the front door on all fours, forehead nearly grazing the threshold as the men’s voices drifted above her.
“Already a problem,” Silas said. “Can’t even move right.”
“She’ll learn,” Kenny answered evenly. “Structure fixes everything.”
The house smelled warm and inviting, leather, wood polish, clean pine, but it was no comfort. She crawled across glossy hardwoods into the kitchen, the sound of her mitts dull against the floor, her own humiliation louder than her footsteps.
Kenny lifted her onto the long kitchen table, and Silas looped straps under the table and cinched them tight across her chest and hips. Boone lifted her legs wide and Silas ran another strap to trap them against her torso, spread wide so they’d have complete access to her pussy and clit.
“Hideous,” Silas said, yanking her thighs wider before he tightened the strap more. His fingers pinched cruelly at the hair on her mons. “Like a feral animal. A proper pet should be smooth. Obedient. Worth looking at.”
Her eyes flooded, head shaking frantically, but the straps held her tight, her body immobilized and her cunt displayed between her spread legs.
“Wax,” he barked, and someone settled a large pot near her hip.
He dipped the stick in, expertly applied it to the side of her mons, and pressed the fabric over it. Dipped the stick again, mirrored the motion on the other side, and pressed the fabric in place.
And then he ripped the first off, tearing hair and skin alike, and she tried to scream. Her mouth opened, her body convulsed, but no sound came. Only silence where her humanity used to exist.
The silence was worse than the pain.
Until he ripped the second strip off, and the shock multiplied exponentially. Her voiceless screams tore out of her in brutal quiet, and she mouthedplease,again and again, trying with all her might to beg, to speak, but the words dissolved before they ever formed. Tears rolled down the side of her face as Silas applied more wax. More strips. Four this time before he ripped them away.
Each strip tore away more than hair — it stripped her humanity, her identity. Stripped her down to nerve endings and obedience. The pain was brutal, but she’d known this was one of Silas’s kinks. Ofcoursehe pulled it out for this.
But that knowledge didn’t make it easier to live through. Over and over, brutal, methodical, each rip blinding, her body jerking uselessly against the straps.
“Pathetic,” Silas said coldly. “Can’t even scream properly. Just flopping around like a fish.”
Her thighs trembled. Her stomach clenched. Shame coated her as heavy as the tears on her face. And beneath it all, her cunt throbbed, clit swollen, her body betraying her with raw, needy arousal she couldn’t deny because this was the degradation she’d dreamed of, being treated like an animal. A pet. Creature.
When the last strip left her bare, raw, burning, Silas carried the wax heater away and then leaned close and whispered, “Better, but still not fuckable.”
Silas stood and flicked her clit. “Waxed smooth, but filth still collects inside. If she’s to be our pet, she has to be cleaned properly.”
Boone stepped to her with a brush — a great big round one with a thick handle and dense bristles. “This’ll do it.” His voice was matter-of-fact, like he was talking about scrubbing a dirty floor.
Her eyes went wide, mouth formingnoagain and again, but no sound came out.
Boone pressed the bristled head against her swollen slit andpushed.
Stiff nylon bristles scraped over her folds and poked into her tender flesh, and she thrashed against the straps, back arching as the horrible thing scraped her insides.
He pressed harder, working the head into her inch by inch until the entire thing was buried deep, the bristles flaring against her walls, the smooth handle at her entrance.
She bucked, tears streaming, as he turned the brush, the rough points dragging against every nerve-ending, scraping and stabbing with each twist.
“Not enough,” Silas said, voice sharp with disdain. “You’re coddling her. In and out while you twist, and harder. That cunt needs a good scouring.”
Boone pulled it out and she thrashed all over again, certain she had to be bleeding by now.
Jaw tight, Boone handed the brush to Silas, who shoved it in with no care, burying the bristled head inside her in a brutal thrust that had her mouth wide open in a scream the vampire’s brain-hack swallowed whole. Her belly clenched, thighs straining against the straps, tears pouring.
Then he twisted.
