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A knock at the door was my only salvation from his furrowed brow and ticking jaw. Overwhelmed by uncertainty, I waited in worsening fear with every millisecond that passed. Would he tell them to come in, or would his words prove true?
“You’re going to lay back in the center of the bed, or you’re choosing my men over me. And you know how I feel about you choosing other men.”
“Another choice.” I knew I never wanted to experience Armon’s physical punishment ever again. Accepting the only reasonable option, I pulled a blanket over me and moved to the center of the bed and lay on my back. With a defeated focus on the ceiling.
"Remember, anything you touched was something you wanted used on you." He was close, but I didn’t dare look at him.
I thought to the horrible room with the men who’d been bound. The meticulous bindings. The pillory. The fucking machine. Every torture device lined up on the table. And I touched so many things.
I blinked upward, never taking my eyes off the white ceiling above. Though when he came into my periphery, my heart began to pound. He would do something. It would be merciless.
“I know you want me to remain in here with you, so I will,” he said with unnerving calm.
If only I could ignore the slight movement and light squeak of the mattress to the right of me. At least he didn’t pull off the blanket when he straddled me. Still, I refused to acknowledge his presence.
“I hear some women love this so much, they do it to themselves and invite people over. Who knows, maybe you’ll be calling for me non-stop.”
I didn’t want to know what he intended. The rope came into view, warning of part of his plan. I lay prone as he took one hand and tied my wrist before securing it to the bed. Just for his own fun, he worked slow, leaning forward as he adjusted the tension. The silk boxers smoothly slid his erection against my cheek with his movement, but he acted oblivious to the motion.
This was what it felt like to want a man and not want him at the same time. It must be the same way a woman felt as she waited and believed sweet promises of change. When she tried to ignore the ache between her legs for a man she knew she shouldn’t desire. Yes, even now, I wanted him. I wanted that light touch on every inch of my body. I wanted to be helpless to stop him from pleasing me as he had before.
Once he had both wrists secured, he said, “I would bind your legs, but I know how much you want to wrap them around me.”
A swallow caught in my throat. What did that even mean? I finally looked up to him as he leaned sideways, bringing a strip of black fabric in front of me. The gentle touch that brought it against my face only meant he was leading up to torture me with something horrible. I wasn’t certain what he planned, but tears already filled my eyes that he carefully covered with the smooth cloth.
“Please,” I sobbed. “Whatever you’re planning, please don’t.”
“It’s only darkness, Sweet One.” His statement made no sense. This would be more than darkness.
The words were a haunting, though. In truth, I’d said that to Katya, but he took it out of context. The darkness was better than what she suffered from my father or brother. And at least I went to her in the night to rid her of pain as best I could. She couldn’t possibly have told him everything I did for her if he held so much contempt for me.
Before he moved away, he said, “I have things to do, so if you make any noise, I’ll have to gag you.” He had to have planned something nightmarish and was building up to it. Soon enough, I’d feel it, be it the vibrator and clamps or something worse.
Darkness and discomfort mixed with the burn of my shoulder, but nothing happened as I waited for Armon’s next move. It felt like a dark void of cold with aches where ropes dug into my wrists.
All I could do was lay still. I didn’t know if he was here or I was alone, but I didn’t want to risk being gagged. I hated him more by the moment, while also desperate for the freedom he could provide.
The stillness became a torment. Harsh touch would be better than no touch at all. I would prefer pain to this feeling, but he knew that. He knew loneliness was an unbearable punishment to me, and he must have relished every moment of my suffering.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sasha
The first sensation seemed like my imagination. A featherlight touch that trailed my side, but then it was over. I wouldn’t break, I couldn’t. He was doing this to shatter me.
After more time passed by, I tugged at the binding on my wrists. Maybe it was over, and the promised gag wouldn’t be used. “Untie me.”
No Answer. He was here, but he refused me. He must have loved every moment of this. Now I would rather the horrid vibrator to this, especially as an equal amount of time passed by in that darkness.
Finally, after what had to be hours, the bed dipped and slightly groaned from his weight. "Am I making you happy now, Sweet One?" The words were whispered beside my ear.
Too many emotions swirled within me. I wanted to cry and thank him for returning. I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to see him with the look of passion he had the day before. I wanted a knife, so I could stab him in the chest. I only got to see blackness in a broken rage.
"Admit that you love what I do to you." He removed the fabric over my eyes, but an equal blackness still surrounded me. “Now say it.”
I wouldn’t say it. Any way my body reacted wasn’t real. He wasn’t someone who brought me joy, merely relief for the suffering he caused. Yet he knew my secrets and how to provide my body with unbelievable bliss.
He let out a hum. "I know what you want." The blanket slowly slid downward, chilling my flesh as it exposed me.
