“Hold still.”
His fingers prod at my pussy, and I suck the side of my cheek between my teeth, clamping down and allowing the copperytaste of blood to distract me from whatever he’s doing. Cool metal digs into sensitive flesh, and I fight to stay still. “A little tighter, I think,” he mutters, intentionally loud enough for me to hear. The pain increases with whatever the fuck he’s doing, but it is external—and for that I am grateful.
He rises and goes to the side of the room where a number of instruments hang on the wall. Typical BDSM tools like whips, canes, and restraints, but also pliers and hacksaws gleam in the swinging light. The washed room suddenly makes sense, and cold realization washes through me. My heart thuds against my ribs as he selects something and returns, keeping it from view as he stalks toward me. He chuckles at my continued silence, then angles a mirror between my legs and wraps his other hand in my hair, forcing my head down to look.
“It’s a clamp. Nothing too bad to get us started, but it exposes your clit and pussy. A simple but effective tool. Plus, if I do this—“ He releases my head, but I can’t look away as he fiddles with something. “It keeps the pressure on and increases the pain.”
“Awesome.”
If he wants my participation, he will get it. But not how he hoped. The longer he spends trying to break me, the less time he has with Steph and the closer Hunter will get.
Keep breathing.
It’s just my body. He can’t have my mind or my heart.
“You grew prettier with age,” he purrs as his fingers trail down my cheek. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy breaking you.”
“You grew old. Tired.” I drop my eyes to his waist. “Soft.”
The backhand happens so fast, it only registers after the fact. I lick the blood from my lip and grin at him, hoping my teeth are stained red. “You’ll have to do better than that, Johnny.”
He steps away and grabs two belts from his wall of tools, binding my knees to the legs of the chair and tugging on the clamp. A hiss leaves my lips against my will, making him smile.
Then he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather through the loops with a snap.Been there, done that.I can disassociate like a pro. “You had me fooled at the club. I knew there was something familiar about you, but I couldn’t quite grasp it in time. Then you escaped. That was your mistake.”
“Escaping seems like a you problem. Perhaps you need new staff.”
“Take a breath, Eleanor, this is going to hurt.”
The first lash makes a scream tear from my throat, the unfamiliar shock breaking my conditioning. By the fifth, he’s panting, a growl tainting his breaths, and I’m locking away the agony inside the vault I never fucking open. He taught me to adapt quickly or suffer more correction. His frustration at my lack of response is his doing.
“The problem with your escape is how you slipped through the fingers of my best trained man. The most loyal soldier I created.” James. No good deed goes unpunished. “I couldn’t fathom how he made a mistake, so the question became not how you escaped, but why.” Another lash.Keep breathing.Bright stars flicker around the edges of my vision.He will come for you.
Jonathan steps to the side and fire blazes across my breasts as he releases his anger on my body. “Then Christopher tracked you down, but your alias led to a thousand different avenues, none of which made any fucking sense. So I asked myself, ‘Who would have the means and motivation to protect their identity so ruthlessly?’”
His belt clangs to the floor as he inspects his handiwork, pulling at the piercings on my nipples until I cry out. He tilts his head, and I watch manic delight enter his gaze.Fuck.He unbinds my legs and grips my elbow, lifting me out of the chair with ease. My legs wobble like a newborn foal, each step sending a blaze of fire scattering over my flesh.
“Kneel.”
He puts pressure on my shoulder, and I drop down to the ground with a growl. “Put your pathetic dick anywhere near my mouth, and you will lose it.”
His laughter echoes around the miserable room, the black walls soaking it in like they absorb all emotions splattered across their surface, storing the memories and bearing witness to the anguish felt. No amount of scrubbing will erase the horrors they’ve witnessed. There is no redemption here.
“Not today, Eleanor. Soon. Once I’ve shattered your mind into a million pieces, you will choke on my cock and not fight me if I choose to suffocate you with it. I wonder if you take it as well as your mother.”
I tilt my head back and spit in his face. He smirks as he wipes it away with the bottom of his shirt. Death is too fucking kind for this abomination. He needs to suffer.
He reaches for a set of silver chains on the wall and drops them on the floor in front of me. He winks as he clips two hooks to the piercings in my breasts, then loops the other end through a metal hoop embedded in the floor and pulls, forcing me forward until he connects the final hook to my clit piercing. My knees widen to prevent me from face planting the fucking floor as I find myself completely at his mercy.
Mercy. What a joke. He has none.
He gasps, the sound too loud to be genuine. “Almost forgot. Don’t want you spoiling the surprise.”
He pushes a ball gag between my lips and yanks the strap tight. Tears pool along my lashes as he covers my head in a thin black cotton hood, hiding the room completely from view.
Breathe.
His shoes move away, and I twist my hands in the cuffs. If I can find something small, I can pop these suckers. There’s a screech of metal, and my limbs freeze in fear. “James, you’re needed.”
