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If there’s one thing I didn’t count on, it’s the sudden claustrophobia.
There’s a flash of brilliant white. It fades back into darkness, and my eyesight is worse off than it was. I let out a whimper, covering my face with my free hand.
“I knew you were awake.”
I cringe.
The edge of the bed dips, and I unwillingly shift toward Knox. He takes my hand and guides it above my head, strong-arming me when I resist.
“As we speak, movers are boxing up all your shit and delivering it into my condo. They’ve been instructed to ignore any moaning, though. Don’t you worry.”
“What—”
The intensebuzzcuts me off. I jerk, although nothing touches me. Just his one hand lingering on my wrist, his nail running under the cuff.
“Scream all you want. No one’s coming to help you.” He pulls at the edge of my panties.
I flinch. I hadn’t realized I was wearing anything—there’s a whisper of sheets against the rest of my skin, especially my bare breasts. The thought should make me panic, but instead I just… curl my fingers into my palms and try not to give him what he wants.
Which is, arguably, any reaction.
“Oh, one more thing.”
He puts something over my ears. Headphones? They’re thick, and there’s a band across the top of my head, and after a second, everything goes silent.
I can’t hear anything—not even Knox.
He touches my panties again, shifting them aside. My body breaks out in goosebumps at the cool liquid and object that fits almost perfectly against my clit. I’m afraid he’s going to pushit inside me, but it doesn’t go in. It’s just held in place by my underwear.
It buzzes to life. I don’t hear it—I can’t hear anything—but I feel it. It’s concentrated directly on my clit, a powerful sucking force I have never felt before. My back comes off the bed, and only the restraints keep me from falling off it.
I come too fast. It’s like a steam-engine train blasting through me, pleasure turned up to level fifteen. I think I make noise. How could I not? I feel the groan vibrate in my throat, my chest. I’ve never used a vibrator before, but now I’m regretting it. Becauseholy shit.
When I eventually sag back down, he doesn’t shut off the toy like I thought he might. Or rather, like I hoped he would. It stays steady against my throbbing, newly sensitive clit.
The bed lifts.
He’s leaving?
There’s a crack of light, and I latch on to the sight of him slipping out into the hall.
The door closes again, leaving me to…this.
I don’t know how long it takes me to come again. I think I make more noise, pleading screaming nonsense. Stops and oh no’s and endless moans. I don’t know how loud I am, if my voice is just above a whisper or a yell. The toy presents never-ending pleasure that’s pressing more toward pain, but it’s all wrapped up together.
One without the other wouldn’t work.
And then again.
On the fourth, I’m shouting curses. My throat hurts with the strain of volume. Sweat coats my skin, I can’t keep from panting, and my wrists are sore from yanking on the bonds.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
The toy dies on the cusp of number eight, and I collapse in a puddle of bones and jelly muscles.
