Page 32

I pull the plug from her mouth, now warm and slick with her spit, and press the pointed tip to her entrance.

She mewls, her body immediately resisting.

“Breathe,” I tell her, and I don’t stop putting pressure until her body is forced to accept it. The plug pops into place, the pink diamond heart nestled snugly between her cheeks, almost mocking in its cuteness.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, stroking her thigh. “Wasn’t that hard, now was it?” Then I step back, admiring my work in her all glory. Goddamn, she is a vision.

“I hate you!” Her voice is raw, her chest rising and falling in frantic little bursts as she jerks against the restraints.

And she has absolutely no idea what’s coming.

“Oh, my little bunny…” I cock my head, grinning beneath the mask. “You’re about to hate me so much more .”

I step to the wall, dragging my fingers over all the paddles and whips, taunting her.

“No!” she wails, tossing her head from side to side. “Please, don’t!”

“You beg so pretty,” I whisper, stopping. “But it’s time for your punishment.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise. Please, don’t do this.”

“Ah, that’s what you were so scared of…” I chuckle, loving how the aroma of her fear fills the space between us. “Is it the pain? Or the fact that you just might enjoy it?”

She stays silent. It’s both. It’s always both with her.

I sigh. “That’s okay, I can get more creative if you want.”

Instead, I pick up the candle and approach her back. The flame dances across her jawline as I step closer.

She’s crying uncontrollably now. Pretty little tears tracking down her flushed cheeks, slipping down her throat, wetting the soft curves of her breasts.

Fucking perfect.

I tilt the candle just enough. A single bead of melted wax swells at the tip before falling. It lands just above her collarbone.

She screams in shock. The sound is sharp, high-pitched, and so fucking sweet it makes my cock throb inside my jeans. Her body thrashes against the bindings, muscles tightening, trying to escape the heat. But there’s no escape. She’s stretched open and entirely at my mercy. Where she belongs.

Her chest heaves with panicked, stuttered breaths. The wax cools almost instantly, hardening against her skin, but the damage is done. I know a small, angry-red mark blossoms beneath it.

I exhale sharply through my nose, grip tightening around the candle. I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.

But she’s made me like this. Made me cruel.

I lift the candle again, the flame flickering violently as I tip it toward her chest. The drip lands on her breastbone, and she cries out, head tilting back, exposing the pale, vulnerable curve of her throat.

Another drip.

Then another.

Slow and precise, I let the wax fall in a perfect line between her breasts, watching the way it pools, the way her chest rises and falls so frantically. The wax cools against her skin, leaving behind angry little blotches, stark against her pale flesh.

“Such a pretty little thing,” I murmur, dragging my gloved fingers through the cooling wax, breaking the hardened pieces apart into small pieces, watching them fall away from her skin. Underneath, she’s so pink. So raw and warm. So mine.

My cock strains painfully against the denim fabric, sticky with precum. God, what is she doing to me…

I pinch her nipple between my fingers, rolling the stiffened peak. “So sensitive, too. I barely did anything, and you’re already shaking.” I tilt the candle one more, and this time, I pour a cascade of hot wax directly over her bare breasts.

Her adorable scream is muffled by the way her head snaps back, every muscle tensing, legs straining against the leather straps binding her apart.

The wax splashes over her nipples, and fuck, the way they tighten so beautifully under the punishment, her body convulsing under the mix of pain and pleasure, her whimpers hitting some primal part of me—it ruins me.

“Are you crying because it hurts… or because you like it?” My voice is hoarse, dark, curling with amusement.

She gasps instead of answering, sucking in quick, panicked breaths through her nose.

I grip her chin between my fingers and force her to look at me. Her lips part, gasping. Those big, terrified eyes stare right into the dark slits of my mask. She shudders but doesn’t answer.

I drag my thumb over her cheek, smearing the tears there, then lower it to her swollen, trembling bottom lip. My thumb presses in.

“Open.”

She resists for a second—just a second—but I push harder, and her lips part with a choked gasp. I slide my thumb over her tongue, pressing down, feeling her wet heat wrap around the leather of my glove. And I have to choke down a moan.

“Good girl.” My voice is rough, uneven.

Her teeth clench. She hates that praise, and it only makes me smile under my mask. I pull my hand back, trailing saliva over her chin, and suddenly—I slap her. Not hard enough to cause her pain. Just enough to make her jump. Just enough to remind her who she belongs to now.

I bring the candle in my other hand closer to her face. She sucks in a sharp, broken breath, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

I cup her throat, thumb pressing gently over her pulse, feeling it race. She’s so alive.So fucking aroused in all her fear.

“Answer me, you little slut. Did you like it?”

She hesitates—just a flicker of resistance, but I see it. Feel it in the way her breath catches, in the way the adrenaline rushes through her veins, her body arching to get closer.

My grip on her throat tightens, and her lips part in a silent moan, “Yes.”

She’s so fucked up. Perhaps even more than I am.

But my cock aches to be buried inside her cunt.

“Good.” I let go of her throat, but I don’t let her breathe. Not yet.

The wax coats her nipple, the hardened little pink bud disappearing under the molten heat. She screams and her body convulses, every muscle contracting as she fights the overwhelming sensations. God, it’s beautiful.

“You love it,” I whisper.

I don’t even give her a chance to deny it. I tilt the candle further, dragging it down the length of her quivering belly. The wax splatters, spreading over her ribs, her stomach, filling the dips between her curves.

She sobs, squirming against the bindings, her body glowing under the soft flicker of candlelight.

I let my free hand wander up her body, dragging across her belly, her chest, the ruined, wax-slicked peaks of her perfect, trembling tits. Then back down again.

“Baby, look at yourself,” I murmur, reaching out to stroke her hip, the wax still warm against my fingertips. “Terrified. Trembling. So fucking perfect.” I trail the candle lower, just to the top of her thigh.

She freezes. Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps. I can hear her heart pounding.

“Oh, Bunny,” I hum, my tone almost mocking. “You know where this is going, don’t you?”

Her thighs quiver and she tries to clamp them shut, but I’ve kept her spread just for this.

Just like I kept her lovely pink pussy untouched so she can feel all of it at once.

I tip the candle, and the wax falls directly over her inner thigh. She mewls, tugging against the restraints, but I don’t stop.

I keep pouring, watching it coat her delicate skin, pooling dangerously close to where she’s already soaking wet and pulsing with need.

I let it cool for a moment, admiring the way it clings to her. My gloved hand brushes against the wax, pressing down lightly, feeling the heat radiate from her skin.

“You’re burning for me,” I rasp in a thick voice.

Her shuddering whimper only makes my cock throb harder. I bring the candle lower and hover just above her bared, trembling little pussy.

Her breath hitches, and she shakes her head, frantic. “No!”

I tip the candle anyway.

The first drop lands directly on her swollen clit, peeking between her puffy lips.

She shrieks, her entire body seizing up, her voice breaking into sharp, choked cries.

I keep pouring, slow and precise, watching as the wax coats her like a second skin—from her silky smooth mound, pretty pink folds, down to the crack of her ass where the butt plug still rests flush.

She writhes, moaning loudly, her body convulsing under the onslaught of sensation—pain and pleasure, heat and cold, too much and not enough.

I let the wax cool for a moment before slapping between her legs, crushing the pieces away and revealing her flushed, swollen cunt. It glistens in the candlelight, contracting around nothing.

What a horny little nympho.

I hum in satisfaction, dragging my leather-clad fingers through her slit, feeling how soaked she is. “You’re dripping like a whore.” I lean into her, inhaling her scent through my mask. “I fucking love it.”

Her breath hitches as I press my thumb to her aching clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the oversensitive bud.

“It turns you on to be used like this,” I whisper, voice dark and low. “To be forced against your will, to push your boundaries to the limits. Doesn’t it?”

She whimpers, shaking her head, but I can feel the way her hips twitch forward, the way she grinds against my hand, needy and weak.

I smile to myself. “This is how it’s always going to be. You’re mine now. My perfect little toy,” I murmur, my fingers dipping lower.

She shudders violently, a broken sob catching in her throat as I slide two fingers inside her.

Deep. Slow. Unstoppable.

She’s sobbing. Writhing. Humiliated and helpless, yet still desperate. Her cunt clenches so tight around my fingers, as if begging me for more before her pride can stop her.

A rough, choked laugh scrapes up from my chest like it’s burning its way out. “You were made for this,” I croon, thrusting deeper, curling my fingers, and pressing against that sensitive, aching little spot inside her.

Her walls flutter around me, squeezing, her sweet juices dripping down my wrist. I know she’s so close, and I let her ride that edge.

Her body trembles uncontrollably against the leather straps. Her chest heaves, still covered with wax drips and red marks. Tears track down her cute face, hot and wet, shimmering in the flickering light.

My God, she looks so fucking perfect.

I have never been this enthralled with anyone before her.

“You want me to finish you off, don’t you?”

She shakes her head, frantic, but I know better. Her body can’t lie to me. And it’s about to betray her.

“Really now? You think I don’t feel the way your pussy is choking my fingers, so fucking greedy to cum?” I halt any movement just when she’s about to reach her peak, and she gasps, disappointed. “You’re lying to me again!”

I want her ruined.

I want her obliterated.

I lift the candle, and the sheer terror that flashes in her dazed, teary eyes makes my balls tighten painfully.

I tilt it, letting the wax drip onto her overstimulated clit.

She squeals. It’s beautiful. Her body convulses against the restraints, her back arching, her thighs quaking, her cunt clamping so hard around my fingers I groan aloud.

“Fuck yes!” I renew pumping in and out of her, tipping the candle again. I watch in awe as the wax coats her, dripping over her folds, framing the hot little wet hole I’m working open with my hand.

She’s trembling wildly, gasping, sobbing, fighting it, but she can’t help how good it feels.

And just when she’s about to break, I stop. “No, no, no.” Withdrawing my fingers, I slap her swollen clit. “You don’t cum until I let you.” I smack it again. And again. Then I pour more wax over it, making her yelp. I’m crazy about that sound. I could blow my load just from listening to her.

“Please! Ghost, I can’t take this anymore! This is torture!” she bawls, pleading like the pathetic little slut she is.

“That’s the point, Bun-bun.”

“Please, let me cum! Please!”

How could I ever resist her?

Even now, even after everything, she’s still my weakness.

And I fucking despise her for it.

But I give in.

I blow the candle, tossing it behind me before I grip the wooden plank, leaning against her. Resting my forehead against hers, I slip my finger back into her heated, pulsing cunt.

“Oh, Daddy,” she whimpers, breathing into me, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her soft, damp lips parting.

Damnit, I want to kiss her. I almost yank off the balaclava before I get a grip and remind myself why I’m doing this.

I fuck her with deep, fast strokes, making sure I hit her G-spot with each thrust. Wet, squelching sounds fill the quiet room, only interrupted by her moans.

I feel it the second it hits her. The way she locks up.

The way she breaks. And the orgasm slams through her, hard and violent, tearing a ragged scream from her throat as she comes, convulsing, wrecked, mine .

Her pussy tightens, spasms, gushing around my fingers, sucking them in like she never wants to let go.

I let her ride it out, watching her unravel beneath me, knowing that after tonight, she’ll never be the same.

In the distance, I hear them approaching.

Just in time.

I slip my fingers out of her and have her clean my glove before I grab a chain leash off the table and clip it to the ring on her collar.

“Come, sweetheart,” I murmur as I unfasten her binds, helping her off the cross. “You have a guest.”

She blinks at me, confused through her haze as I force her onto her hands and knees.

“You promised him a date, after all.”