“Oh, gawwwd,” I groan, rolling my eyes.
He tightens the pliers, and I shriek. “What was that now, Briella Darling?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Good girl. And now…” He pulls the pliers off, puts them away, and takes out a screwdriver. “It’s not as big as my cock, but let’s see you be a good girl and suck on it for me. Then, we’ll move on to the hammer handle. And then…my axe.” Seth smirks to one side and touches the screwdriver handle to my lips. “Open, Darling. That’s my girl.”
I work hard to conceal my grin because if he picks up any of his axes, he’ll learn what I did earlier. I bob up and down, wetting the handle and taking it deeper.
“Look at you,” he remarks with approval, and I hate how it warms my insides and drives more wetness to my center. “So beautiful taking my tools. Let’s see what else you can take.”
It appears…Jude has the tongue, Vincent has the tats, Rory has the toys, and Seth…has the tools.
Next, the lumberjack plunges the hammer handle into my mouth. My body thrums, needing more. Seth leans in, narrows his eyes, and moves the handle deeper. I choke, gagging, but he doesn’t pull back. Not an inch.
For a second, I get a glimpse of the devil in his eyes. Like he hides that devil behind a comical and casual mask, but Seth is just as rotten to the core. He gets off on the violence, on the pain. I should know. While Rory did the beating to unleash his violence, I should remember Seth was the one who broughtthe axe down on Joah, chopping him, cutting off pieces, before Raphael finalized the killing blow.
Just like Seth had no qualms about assaulting me in the cavern. He was eager for it. Somehow, his comical, casual nature makes it worse. But tonight? He’s showing me something deeper, something darker. Not crazy like Rory. Not tortured like Vincent. Not calculated like Jude. Not commanding like Raphael.
Seth is showing me his intensity. He’s obsessive, relentless, and ruthless. When push comes to shove, if anyone were to threaten his Kin, Seth may just be the worst of them all. Now, I’m a part of that Kin.
After I start to gag more and my vision blurs from lack of air, Seth finally retrieves the hammer handle, then shoves it into his belt. Tapping the wood, watching me with that possessive, savage gleam in his eye and all his muscles bulging, he moves to one of the nearby chomping stumps. The axe is stuck blade-down in the weathered, scarred stump at the end of the woodpile. I strain my neck, keeping my gaze fixed on him. My insides overheat with eagerness, amusement, and pride.
The moment Seth grips the handle and tugs, the blade goes flying! It hits the side of the butcher shed. Laughter spurts from my mouth as Seth guffaws, eyes wide, before he turns to me and growls low.
“The fuck did you do?” he demands.
I bite my tongue, trying to stem my giggles, but I can’t. I just can’t. I’m in the worst position, the most vulnerable position, but I still can’t stifle my laughter.
Chucking the bladeless handle, Seth sneers and grabs the next axe…hanging from a sling at the end of the nearby fence. This time, the wooden handle splits right down the middle. I spit laughter again.
With his muscles bulging and a vein in his neck throbbing with frustration, he tries every axe on the hooks driven into the side of his woodshed. They all meet with the same fate.
Finally, Seth advances toward me with violence brewing in his eyes. I shudder when he grips my hair, yanking my head back. “You think this is funny?”
Breathy laughter leaves my nostrils, and I nod. “You didn’t really think I’d forgive and forget because you’re oh-so-sweet, did you, Seth?”
“Do you know how long it’s going to take me to repair all this shit?” He glares, stabbing his face close to mine, hot breath hovering above my mouth.
I shrug and smile sweetly. “Maybe, by then, I’ll forgive you.”
The next thing I know, Seth pulls out a roll of duct tape from his tool belt. “No man’s belt is complete without it.” He winks.
My eyes go wide right before he picks up one of the fallen blades…and the handle, and makes his way around me. An icy, metallic sensation hits my pussy, and I realize he’s rubbing the face of the axe blade along my labia. Then, he trains the barest, keenest tip to my clitoris.
“Fuckfuckfuck!” I cry. But when he dips the wooden handle into my lips, collecting my fluids, and rimming my hole, I moan. The combination of the warm wood and the cold, cruel blade surges more heat through me. Deadly teasing. Dominant and deadly.
His warm mouth rubs along my spine until he licks at my sensitive ass, tracing the inflamed chains of the brand while he still works my clit with that blade.
The pressure coils inside me, nearly to the breaking point. I arch my back, thrusting out my hips, wanting more, needing more. But Seth pulls away.
Rising but planting his hot chest against my back, Seth murmurs in my ear, deep and silky, “Prepare for your light discipline, Briella. By the barest definition of the word.”
For the next hour, he edges me, alternating between tools. He torments my clit with the coarse rope, the axe and hammer blades and handles, the screwdriver, and even the utility knife. For an hour, I’m writhing and gasping and moaning, trying to claim my pleasure, but he pinches my clit anytime I get close. So close so many times.
At one point, he even made a fire. The heat blended with the cold autumn wind has sent me into sensory overdrive. I’ve even felt a few embers crackle against my ass. Harmless. They only caused a light sting.
When I’m screeching, Seth finally croons low in my ear. “Are you ready to beg, Briella Darling?”
