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My heart races as Snow steps forward, anticipation and dread mingling together inside me. I don’t know what to expect, but I know it’s going to be brutal. Seytan nods, a wicked grin stretching across her face.
“Excellent,” she purrs. “Let’s see what Mr Frost is made of.”
I snort. “I always wanted a Mr Frosty toy but I was never allowed.”
Snow moves towards the wall of tools, his eyes scanning over them thoughtfully. I try to catch his gaze, but he doesn’t look at me. He selects a gas-powered blow torch, and I can’t help but let out a shuddering breath. Snow turns back to me, the purple-blue flame flickering ominously in his hand.
I brace myself, but the first burn still makes me gasp in pain. Snow runs the torch down my arm, burning through the skin with ease. My skin bubbles up, blisters and breaks, spilling hot blood down my skin and onto the floor. I grit my teeth, trying to keep my screams inside, but it’s nearly impossible. Snow is moving with precision, burning more and more into my flesh, and I can feel the tears starting to form at the corners of my eyes.
As the pain increases, so does my arousal. It’s a twisted sensation, but I can’t deny the way my body feels – hot and tight and wanting. I know I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I can’t help it. Snow leans in close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You like that, don’t you?” he whispers, and I can feel a rush of wetness between my legs. I can’t deny the pleasure that’s coursing through me. Snow is hurting me, but he’s also making me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before. I’m gasping and panting, and I can see the way Snow’s eyes are darkening with lust. He’s enjoying this as much as I am.
The burning changes to cutting, when he pulls out a long, thin scalpel. Slicing my skin into ribbons with ease and precision. When he’s satisfied he’s inflicted enough damage, he changes to a poking and prodding, hell-bent on causing as much suffering as possible.
Snow runs the scalpel along my flesh with barely any pressure. It’s maddening. I can feel the desire winding tight in my belly, and every time Snow flicks the blade, I have to stop myself from crying out. It hurts, but it also feels incredible. I’m torn as to what I want more – Snow to stop or keep going. He watches me carefully, appraising me as he cuts and prods. It reminds me of a cat toying with a mouse, and I wonder how long I’ll last.
I should hate him, and maybe I do, but I can’t deny that I want him too.
I don’t know how much time passes, but Snow is still working on me when Nightshade calls out in a bored tone, “Enough. Let someone else have a turn.”
“No.” Snow shakes his head, eyes alight. “I want to keep going.”
“You can’t,” Bones insists. “It’s my turn.” He steps forward.
“You’ll fucking wait your turn!” Snow huffs.
“I think you’ll find that her skin is starting to break apart. It’s probably not a great idea to drag this out,” Bones says.
I squirm in my seat, feeling it and knowing that he’s right. It feels like Snow has been at me for hours, but it’s probably only been a few minutes.
“I’ll take over,” Nightshade says, his tone brokering no argument.
Nightshade steps forward, grim determination in his eyes. He moves to Snow’s second tool of choice and picks up the scalpel. He examines it, standing very still with the tool in his hand. My heart starts to sink but then he drops it to the floor with a noisy clatter and kicks it away.
“Pathetic,” he murmurs, shaking his head. His eyes skim over the apparatus on the wall and light up when he finds whatever it is he’s looking for.
I’m breathing hard and coated in a sheen of sweat, so when he steps out of my line of vision, I don’t turn my head to follow him and see what he selects. It won’t make any difference. It’s not like I can stop him.
I feel him behind me, and then his hand snakes around my throat and tightens. My eyes widen and I open my mouth to shout but his hand cuts across my windpipe, choking me and making it impossible to breathe. I buck and struggle in my chair, but I can’t break free.
My pussy is clenching in time to my panicked pounding pulse.
Still gripping my throat in a vise-like grip, he moves around to the front of the chair to face me. He’s so strong, I can barely believe it. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying, and yet I can’t move. He’s holding me tight, his hand like a vice around my throat, cutting off all my air.
Panic rises in my chest.
I thrash in the chair, trying to break free, but I can’t make him stop. My vision is tunnelling, and the room is starting to go grey and hazy at the edges. My heart is pounding, and I can feel blood rushing to my face. I’m dizzy and black spots are dancing across my vision. And I’m so fucking close. I try to beg him without words to end it, but he doesn’t.
He flexes his fingers and releases me, and my head hits my chest as I try to gulp air down me like a cold beverage on a hot summer’s day.
When I no longer feel like I’m dry drowning, I drag my head up with difficulty. Night’s gaze is impenetrable, giving nothing away. Goosebumps erupt all over my body and my nipples pebble against the thin fabric of my top. Nightshade notices and his dark eyes dilate.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” I whisper.
Murder flashes across his features and he stalks over to the wall of goodies.
When he returns, his expression is carefully schooled, and in his hand is a tiny clear vial, filled with a deep blue liquid.
“What’s that?” Snow asks, tilting his head and sizing me up.
