Page 128 of Two Sides of Sin

I tried to scream. I tore at the chains binding my wrists to the trunk, thrashing my legs wildly, but the shackle at my ankle held fast. The maniac in front of me was an immovable wall of stone. He held my head to the side, his crushing grip on my jaw forcing me to look through the trees in the direction of the panicked voice.

A faint, sweeping beam of light cut through the brush.

My heart stopped. Through the gaps in the pines, I saw a familiar silhouette stalking frantically through the dark. It was Julian. His costume pushed back over his head, a heavy Maglite in one hand, shouting my name into the void.

But I was part of the forest now, bound in depravity. We were too deep in the shadows, out of sight and hidden from any light.

Instead, I was forced to hang there and watch him. Unable to move, unable to scream, as the terrifying stranger in front of me continued to brutally fuck me against the tree, the chains clinking and swaying with every devastating thrust, while my boyfriend frantically searched for me.

This isn’t happening. This is all just a bad dream.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to dissociate, to focus on literally anything else but the man claiming me. But my body was a traitor.

I didn’t know if it was the lingering fog of the alcohol, the terrifying allure of the costume, or the simple, sickening fact that I was clearly broken in the head—but I didn’t want him to stop. I hated myself for it. Every cell in my brain was screaming for Julian to look over, to see me bound to this tree, and help me, yet every nerve ending was singing under this strangers touch. I didn’t want to be a witness to my own damnation, but I was being forced to feel every second of it.

As the second wave of my climax began to swell in my gut, he reached up. His gloved hand didn’t just cover my mouth this time; his fingers curled around the heavy chain looped at my throat.

With a merciless tug, he pulled the metal tight.

The world around me slowly blurred. The air in my lungs was cut off instantly, replaced by the cold, unyielding pressure of the links biting into my windpipe. I couldn’t gasp. I couldn’t scream. I could only choke on the sudden, terrifying silence of my own breath.

My vision began to darken at the edges, the frantic spots of light dancing behind my eyelids as the lack of oxygen sent my nervous system into a terminal spin. It was the final catalyst.

The pressure at my throat and the friction between my legs collided, sending a massive, world-ending orgasm through my body. I came undone around him once more, in total suffocating silence. Without air to fuel a scream, the climax was a frenzied, convulsing earthquake that rocked my spine against the tree. I was milking him for everything I had, my pussy clamping relentlessly around him while my lungs burned for air and a mercy he wasn’t ready to give.

He held the chain tight, watching the light flicker in my eyes, absorbing every tremor of my body as I shattered in his grip. Only when my pulses began to fade into a dull, heavy throb did he finally slacken the steel, allowing a painful lungful of air to rush back into my chest.

He was unfazed by Julian’s voice echoing in the trees. He held me there, pinned against the bark, as I slowly began to come down from the height of the most depraved thrill I’ve ever experienced, the cold night air hitting my sweat-soaked skin.

He leaned down, his cold lips brushing the shell of my ear while my body continued to twitch and sob against the clinking chains.

“Good girl,” he praised, “Oh, and when you wake up… tell my brother I said hi.”

Before I could even process the horrific message, I felt a pinch in the side of my neck.

“And next time he tells you to stay inside…” he bit out, the coldness of his tone returning with a detached edge. “You should probably listen.”

A thick, icy chemical instantly flooded my veins. The panicked beating of my heart quickly slowed to a dull, heavy thud. Julian’s distant voice warped and faded into static, the hollow ringing of the chains against the tree becoming the last thing I heard before the terrifying figure above me blurred into shadows, and the world collapsed into nothingness.

Chapter 66

Cain

Ihave never claimed to be a good man. Not even once.

A controlling, manipulative, narcissistic psychopath… Yes. I wear those titles like honorary badges. I have always embraced the dark, oppressive reality of my existence. I’ve always left the pathetic, bleeding-heart role of the saint entirely to my brother.

I stood motionless, not moving for the longest time, captivated with the vision before me. I simply existed in the dark, my breath slow and shallow behind the mask, as I drank in the sight of my masterpiece. She was draped against the roots of that tree like a fallen dead angel caught in a spider web, the white of her costume stained and tainted.

I watched the way the sedative softened her, the way her head lolled back against the bark, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat where the chain had just been biting. I stayed there, a silent presence in the brush, memorising the sight in front of me, needing to anchor myself in this exact moment, refusing to let it slip away.

Julian’s frantic light continued to sweep through the pines in the distance—a desperate search for a girl who had already been stolen. I watched him miss her again and again, his incompetence only making the scene before me feel more sacred. It was almost insulting, really. I felt a flicker of genuine shame for him—at how pathetically easy it had been to bypass his defences. He’d left the doors unlocked and the perimeter unguarded, practically gift-wrapping her for me. He’d made it so effortless that there was no challenge left in the hunt, only the execution.

I stepped forwards one last time, the forest swallowing the sound of my boots. With a slow click, I released the pressure at her ankles and slid the steel links from her wrists, granting her unconscious body the small mercy of unbinding her from the tree.

The chains pooled in the dirt at her feet like discarded snake skin.

I traced the curve of her jaw with a gloved thumb, memorising the way she looked draped in the wreckage of her own surrender.