The blindfold comes first—black silk against her skin. Next, the isolate her in silence. With sight and sound removed, her other senses heighten instantly. I can tell by how she jumps when I touch her unexpectedly, how her breathing changes when I move near her.
“Perfect,” I murmur, though she can’t hear me.
I leave her there—bound, blind, deaf—and retreat to my office. On my laptop screen, the feed from the hidden cameras shows four different angles of my bedroom. Amelia remains still at first, then begins testing her bonds. I watch her body language shift from relaxed to uncertain, cataloging every expression, every twitch.
Ten minutes pass before I return, carrying ice in one hand and lit candles in the other. I set them on the nightstand and remove one earplug.
“Color?” I ask.
“Green,” she responds immediately, voice eager despite her vulnerability.
I replace the earplug and select an ice cube, pressing it against her nipple without warning. Her body arches dramatically off the bed as much as the restraints allow. I trace cold paths across her stomach, between her breasts, down to her inner thighs.
When her skin is covered in glistening trails of melted ice, I lift a candle. The first drop of hot wax falls on her sternum. She gasps, her body a perfect canvas of contrasts—raised red wax patterns against skin still cool from the ice.
I carefully remove the wax, each patch peeling away to reveal sensitive skin beneath. Amelia flinches beautifully with each pull. When her body is clean, I brush my fingers between her legs, finding her soaked.
“So responsive,” I murmur, removing her earplugs. “I’m going to make you beg now.”
I spread her legs wider, positioning myself between them. With deliberate precision, I begin stroking her clit in slow circles, watching her body respond. Just as her breathing quickens, I stop.
“No,” she whimpers.
“You come when I allow it,” I tell her, voice rough through the mask. “Not before.”
I resume my ministrations, building her up again. Her hips buck against my hand, seeking more pressure. Again, I withdraw just before she crests.
“Fuck,” she gasps. “Please.”
“Please, what?” I drag my fingertips lightly over her swollen flesh. “Use your words.”
“Please let me come.”
“No.”
I start again, this time pushing two fingers inside her while my thumb circles her clit. Her internal muscles clench around me, her body desperate for release. When she’s right at the edge, breath coming in short gasps, I pull away completely.
“You’re my toy,” I whisper against her ear. “Your pleasure belongs to me. Your pain belongs to me. Every inch of this perfect body is mine to use however I want.”
By the fifth denial, she’s trembling uncontrollably. By the seventh, tears leak from beneath her blindfold. I lean down, licking them away.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re desperate,” I growl. “Look at you, dripping for me, begging for me.”
The tenth time, she’s incoherent. “Please... God... can’t... please,” she sobs, her body shaking violently. “I’ll do anything... please...”
I slide three fingers inside her, curling them against that perfect spot while my thumb presses hard against her clit.
“Come for me now,” I command. “Now.”
She shatters completely, her entire body shaking as she screams. I keep my fingers inside her, pushing her through each aftershock, prolonging her pleasure until she’s gasping for breath.
19
GABE
Iwake to the scent of her still lingering on the sheets, but the warmth beside me has disappeared. My hand slides across the empty space where Amelia’s body should be curled against mine. No sleepy murmurs, no tangle of limbs. Just cold sheets and silence in my apartment above The Blue Room.
“Amelia?”
