Page 37

I can’t.

My toes barely touch the ground, my legs trembling, my thighs slick with panicked sweat and something else—something shameful.

The ropes press into my flesh, the rough fibers burning where they bite into my arms, my breasts, my pussy.

The anal hook is seated deep, impaling me, the metal ball stretching me wide.

Every shift of my weight sends a jolt of pain and pleasure straight to my core, the crotch rope sawing against my swollen clit.

And he just sits there, watching me.

Ghost lounges in the chair across from me.

Naked. All lean muscle and ink over his tanned skin.

His pierced cock is hard in his hand, stroking slow, so large that it rivals the beasts he calls “his brothers”.

A mocking smirk plays on his full lips, his eyes dark, almost fully black, drinking in every twitch of my drained body, every desperate whimper I can’t swallow down.

I hate him.

And I hate how much I want him at the same time.

Seeing him without the mask is even worse… because he is so fucking breathtaking. I just can’t understand how such a beautiful man can be this cruel.

Fuck him and his perfect face.

My nipples ache, hard and sensitive beneath the Shibari harness, my clit pulsing with need. Every little movement drags the hook deeper into my tight, virgin ass. Every inhale makes the unforgiving ropes dig harder. Every exhale turns into a moan.

The pressure between my legs is unbearable. My hips jerk on their own, seeking more friction, more anything, even as my thighs quiver with exhaustion. Last night was too much. My pussy hasn’t recovered from the stretch of too many cocks, from how many times they made me cum against my will.

And now? Oh fuck. It hurts. And it’s too much…

That pain feels too good .

I can’t hold it.

A spark races up my spine, and my blurred vision whites out as a sudden orgasm crashes into me like wildfire, violent and raw.

My back arches, my hips rolling shamelessly against the harsh hemp, as my ass clenches around the intrusion.

A scream tears from my throat as my legs give out, my weight sagging into the bindings, and the hook feels like it’s in my stomach—I’m suspended now, pathetic, like a broken doll.

Ghost tsks, standing in one fluid motion. “Already?” His voice is a velvet blade, slicing through the haze. “That was fast, little bunny.”

I sob, my body still twitching from the aftershocks, as I plead, “Please, I can’t take anymore.”

But he doesn’t care. He seizes my chin, fingertips digging in hard enough to pry my jaw apart, forcing me to look directly into his hunter eyes.

There’s that sinister, unhuman flicker in them, but it doesn’t take away from how much I yearn for him.

He most likely is a beast, just like the rest of them—I’m almost certain.

Yet, my heart can’t tell the difference. Our history runs too deep, the feelings too real. Some fractured part of me still can’t let go of him, clinging to memories… to what we could’ve been.

“How bad did it hurt?” he asks in that deep, gravelly voice that makes my stomach flutter.

I don’t have an answer—how could I ever put it into words? Because he doesn’t necessarily mean physical pain. He knows he’s shattering me from within. And he relishes it.

“Good,” he rasps against my lips. “Now you know what a fucking torture it is to love you.”

God, I need that man to destroy me entirely.

The next thing I know, he kisses me. Or maybe I kiss him first. Doesn’t matter anyway.

It’s not tender. It’s desperate, punishing, filled with passion.

Our mouths crash like we’re trying to fight each other, like we’re both starved and furious that we still crave the taste.

His hand fists in my hair, pulling hard enough to draw a gasp, and I bite his bottom lip until I taste blood.

There’s no mercy in it. Just hunger and hatred twisted together—two people trying to devour the pieces they broke in each other.

He steps back too fast, breath ragged, brushing one hand through the dark hair that’s fallen messily over his forehead.

He’s affected. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way for me to get through to him.

“Daddy, please,” I whisper softly. “You don’t need to do this. I’m yours .”

He freezes for a brief moment, frowning as though he‘s contemplating it. But when his eyes meet mine again, they are hardly human.

Without responding, he strolls toward a heavy wooden table set against the far wall like he has all the time in the world. My stomach churns as my eyes scan what’s laid out there. Neat, pristine rows of meticulously arranged tools—gleaming metal, leather, toys.

He reaches for the ball gag from the table before returning to stand in front of me. My pulse spikes, breath hitches, but the rubber already presses against my lips. My muffled protest dies in my throat as I’m forced to accept it, the strap cinching tight behind my head.

He steps back, tilting his head. “Better.”

Before I know it, his hands are on my tits, rough and possessive, squeezing hard. Then— slap . The sharp sting across my flesh makes me jerk, my nipples arching, and my muffled cry escapes the gag.

“I want you to feel everything I give you,” he murmurs into my ear, his thick, dark stubble tickling my skin. “Pain. Pleasure. Fear. I want all of it. Can you give that to me, Princess?”

He does it again, harder, slapping my other breast, before his mouth replaces his palm, sucking one peak between his teeth.

I jolt as he bites down. The pain is bright, electric, and my cunt pulses in response, betraying me with a treacherous ripple of heat.

“Don't pretend you don’t want it,” he whispers against my flesh. “I can smell it on you.”

“No,” I muffle over the gag, drool trickling down my chin.

He chuckles darkly, then flicks his pierced tongue over my other nipple before sucking it into his mouth—warm, teasing, coaxing.

When he pulls away, the clamps come next, cold metal pinching my tender nipples tight.

The constant pressure is making my back bow off the ropes.

It hurts, but not in the way I expect. I feel it between my legs, a slow, pulsing ache like it’s a direct link to that sharp pinch.

Ghost’s fingers slide under the thin chain connecting the clamps, wrapping it around his knuckles, giving a light tug. A whimper escapes me before I can swallow it down.

He hums in approval, watching me struggle. “You’re so fucking stunning like this, Bunny.”

Then another pull. The pain lances through my chest, sharp and searing. I scream against the gag, saliva spilling over my lips as I squirm, trying to escape the sensation. My body jerks in its bindings, but there’s nowhere to go.

“See? You can be good when you try.” He smiles at that, cruel and pleased, and I just want to fucking kill him.

With all the strength I have left, I try to kick, but all it does is causing the hook in my ass to shift, massaging that wonderful spot inside me.

I hate him.

I hate what he’d done to me.

And I hate how he’s making me feel.

But he’s just starting.

He grabs something else from the table, and before I can get a peek, he kneels, fastening binds over my ankles.

I whimper, struggling, but my legs are yanked apart as the spreader bar locks into place with a metallic clink, keeping me open. Vulnerable. Just the way he likes it.

Then he rises to his full height and tugs the other end of the chain that’s suspending me from the ceiling.

The ground disappears beneath me until my face is level with his. My body dangles uselessly, weightless in the lacework of knots, like a fly caught in a spider's web.

Tears spill over my cheeks, but my screams are nothing now. Just muffled, pathetic little noises behind the gag, swallowed by the thick wooden walls of the cabin.

He strokes my hair almost lovingly. “Shhh. No use wasting your breath.”

I shake my head desperately, pleading with my eyes, but he only watches me. Drinking in my helplessness. Savoring it. His cock bobs, drop of precum traveling down his shaft between the barbells of his Jacob’s ladder.

He’s so hot, I just want to shout.

He curses under his breath as he moves, but not towards the table.

I follow him with the corner of my eye, and just then, I notice there’s a camera on the stand in the corner.

He brings it closer, setting it in front of me before the red light flicks on.

I don’t know why he records it. Maybe so he can have a torture porn to jerk off to after he kills me. Or maybe it’s just to piss me off more.

Joke’s on him because I can’t feel any more humiliated or mortified than I already am.

“Now,” he says, voice velvety smooth, as he approaches me again, “let’s teach you how to behave.”

The next thing I hear is a soft rustle of leather. And the first strike lands with a swishing sound as it cuts the air, ending in a sharp bite of pain across my stomach.

I jolt, my head falling forward, and I cry behind the gag.

The flogger snaps against my skin again, this time lashing across my breasts. A shock of heat blooms where it lands, a sting that fades into something warmer, sending a ripple of electric sensation far more dangerous through me.

Why is my body reacting this way?

He keeps going. My thighs. My hips. The curve of my ass.

I whimper, my skin heating, burning, pulsing, but my traitorous flesh shivers. Heat coils low in my belly, tighter and tighter with each punishing strike.

I’m enjoying this.

He tsks, dragging the flogger between my legs, teasing me with the soft leather before the next impact—this one right where I’m most sensitive. A ragged, broken moan rips from my throat as I beg him to stop.

To my surprise, he steps away. I almost thank him before I hear the distinct crack of something firmer cutting through the air. My breath stutters.

I look up to see the long riding crop in his hand, and my body immediately tenses, bracing.