Page 77 of Redemption

I crane my neck back so that I can keep the wickedly sharp hunting knife in my line of sight.

The last time he held a blade to my throat, he was the masked man. He terrorized me and violated me.

He’s wearing a different skull mask now. The image of my alluring demon morphs into a horrific, macabre memory.

He strokes the length of my spine with his free hand and shushes me gently. The knife is nowhere near my skin; he’s holding it at least two feet away from me, and it’s pointed outward, not toward me.

“I took this fantasy from you,” he rumbles. “I want to give it back.”

My chest convulses on a shuddering breath. Terror still rides me hard, but his words touch something deep inside me.

He wants my consent. I could stop him right now if I wanted to.

But I don’t speak. I don’t use my safe word.

I want to take ownership of this fantasy, too.

I close my eyes briefly and breathe through the worst of the clawing horror, until it subsides into fizzy, thrilling fear once again. I allow myself to sink into the giddy sensation, like I’m riding a rollercoaster.

I’m safe with Dane.

“Good girl,” he praises. “So brave for me.”

My eyes flutter open, and the blade glints in the moonlight as he slowly moves it closer to my body. When I don’t scream orcringe away, he grasps my wrists with his other hand. The rope tugs slightly as he slips the knife through the knot.

I go utterly still.

“Be careful, little dove,” he warns gently. “I don’t want to accidentally clip your wings.”

The blade slices upward, away from my body. The rope falls from my wrists, but I don’t dare to move. I’m hardly breathing, and I’m becoming lightheaded from lack of oxygen.

He shifts behind me, and I’m on my back.

The knife is still in his hand, and this time, the tip is pointed at my chest.

“Dane…” His name is little more than a pleading whisper.

“Master,” he corrects me. “You’re mine, Abigail. It’s time you remembered what that means.”

The knife flicks beneath the leather cord that connects the nipple clamps. The bells jingle softly as he slowly draws it upward on the flat of the blade.

“I wonder what will happen first,” he muses, eyes glittering with cruel fascination. “Will the cord be severed, or will those tight little clamps be tugged off of your nipples?”

“Don’t.” I dread the pain of the latter threat.

“You do beg so sweetly, but that won’t spare you. You’re my helpless little plaything now. Mine to toy with however I want.”

He slowly raises the knife, increasing the pressure on the cord. It begins to tug at the clamps, pulling on my abused nipples. Pain spears through me in sharp spikes that somehow turn to pure pleasure when they reach my core. I cry out and arch my back, desperate to alleviate the strain.

“Would you like that?” he taunts. “You could be my obedient little fucktoy. Or you can continue to suffer for me.”

I growl through gritted teeth, the only sound I’m able to make when pain rakes at me, commanding most of my attention.

“You brought this on yourself,”

That’s my only warning before he jerks the knife away from me. He doesn’t turn it to sever the cord with the sharp edge. My scream fills the maze when the nipple clamps are yanked free. The searing shock of pain makes my vision flash white for an instant.

I blink rapidly, and tears stream down my temples to wet my hair. The world comes back into sharp focus when I see the knife hovering just above my stinging nipple.