My breasts spill free, rising and falling with each breath. He seeks out a nipple, suckling my flesh to a taut peak. Then he licks his way to my other nipple, tongue lashing and teeth nipping. I hold myself rigid and brace for the pain that’s sure to come. My thong is destroyed with a sharp tug, then his rough fingers explore my velvet folds.
“You shaved?” Sandman murmurs huskily, straightening above me.
“Meela waxed me,” I answer him, ensnared in his blue irises.
“Keep your pussy just like this,” he orders, raw hunger simmering in his heated gaze.
“Okay,” I whisper, tears leaving glistening paths down my cheeks.
Sandman masterfully strokes the heartbeat between my thighs—firm, teasing, relentless. My body becomes a furnace, his unwanted touch stoking a fire within me. A fire that rapidly spreads to my belly and below. It strengthens, wild and unconstrained, evolving from spark to sweltering blaze in minutes. I’m almost there… just a little more. He abruptly pulls his hand away, promptly extinguishing the conflagration.
“You don’t get to orgasm tonight,” Sandman sneers and brandishes a lighter. “Tonight, we play a game.”
“W-what game?”
“I’m going to hold the flame close to your pretty brown nipple for ten seconds,” he explains, rubbing the lighter around my areola. “If you can’t handle the heat, just say so, but then you lose.”
“What happens if I lose?” I question, dreading his response.
“Then tomorrow you get liar tattooed here.” Sandman slides his index finger across my throat. “It’s fitting, considering what you did. Wouldn’t you say?” He rolls his thumb down the spark wheel, expelling the flame. “One, two, three…” he counts, pausing between each number.
Though the flame isn’t touching skin, I still feel the burn. I bite down on my bottom lip, attempting to counteract the pain.
Don’t give in, don’t give in, don’t give in.
I can’t let him win… not this game. He counts more slowly, one second equivalent to two. More tears come. I’m on the verge of caving in when he reaches the magic number. The air swooshes from my lungs.I fucking did it.
“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Sandman announces, moving the lighter to my other nipple. “The game isn’t over.”
“What? No,” I say, panicked. “You didn’t say both.”
“That was a test run,” he replies, starting the torture all over again. “The real game begins now.”
Sandman counts even slower, one second now equivalent to three. There’s no question that he wants me to lose his twisted game. His dick is rock hard, my suffering giving him sexual gratification. It’s beyond sick. He’sbeyondsick. I wail my agony, the harsh sound reverberating through the kitchen until the game is over.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he croons, palming my drenched cheek. “Round two, or do you prefer a different game?”
“Different game,” I choke out.
He smiles and quickly swaps the lighter for the handgun tucked into his waistband at the small of his back.
I inhale a sharp breath.Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“This is a Smith & Wesson. Zeus gave me this beauty for my birthday last year.”
“What game is this?”
A sinister gleam shines in his cerulean depths. “Russian roulette.”
“No, no, no.” I frantically shake my head from side to side. “I don’t want to play this game.”
“One bullet,” he states, pointing the muzzle against my forehead. “Six chambers.”
Only one bullet… he already had this planned. Sandman pulls the trigger, and I scream hysterically. He’s really going to kill me this time.
“Please stop!”
Click.Again, he pulls the trigger.
