Page 62 of Every Shade of Shadow

It’s a serial killer’s wet dream.

Told you.

With horror, I realize the rumors are true. Darkwood’s personal dungeon is no myth. It’s a reality—a sickening truth. If Sabrina laid her eyes on this, she’d straight up hit the floor.

The Professor himself turns before me, arms wide. “How do you like my office, my pet?”

I can’t reply. How the hell am I supposed to answer that?

But he’s proud of it, a toddler showing off their toy room.

He steps forward, stroking my face with the back of his hand.

I flinch away.

“So soft,’ he says. “A petal. But,” he looks around, “which device is worthy of such a rose, because that is what’s required of the next trial.”

Him and his fucking trials.

I shake quietly, my heart thundering against my ribcage.

I try and comfort myself, but no implement I can see looks like it was built for anything other than pain.

I don’t know why, but I try to cover myself.

Darkwood smiles, moving forward and taking my arms. He stretches them out, holding me naked and exposed before him.

He admires my body. “A petal indeed.” He runs his hand over my abdomen and down towards my sex.

“The rack,” he says, which sounds ominous as fuck.

He lifts me easily, hands under my thighs, walking me to what appears to be a wooden table in the center of the room.

As we get closer, I see the table is actually a rectangular frame with multiple wooden rollers down the center.

Leave, I think, but my body will not comply.

The Professor lifts me onto the table, laying me on my back on the rollers. He binds my wrists tight with rope above my head, lashing my ankles together likewise. Satisfied, he pulls the bonds once more, smiling wider when I cry out.

Because I’m not sure if I signed up for this, to be literally tortured, but I’m snared in his trap now. There’s no more freedom to be found.

The spanking? That I could handle, painful as it was. And the Fire Lash…that too was bearable, just, but this? I’m not so sure.

With me secured, the Professor takes his time savoring my submission. There’s no denying the pleasure in his eyes as he studies my prone body.

He leans close to my ear, his seductive voice doing little to make this more tolerable. “You don’t know what you’re in for, little lamb, but know the pain I produce here, and it will be substantial, will increase your power significantly.” He looks to the corner of the room. “See already how the shadows hunger for it.”

Flat on my back, I can only turn my head to the side, my breathing increasing with my panic as I see spectral shapes and shadows dancing there.

I feel them, the pull.

To my side, Darkwood begins to strip, removing his shirt and pants carefully, folding them and placing them on a nearby table.

He motions his head at a large handle attached to the side of the table. “That, my pet, increases tension on your bonds. Each crank will bring with it more pain, slowing stretching you out until your joints dislocate or simply separate completely. Sometimes things go ‘pop,’” he says, emphasizing the ‘p.’ “Bone, cartilage, ligaments.”

He strips off his underwear and his cock comes free big as a baby’s arm. Forked veins run across the shaft, the plumb head smooth.

The Professor catches me looking. “Does it please you, my cock? It soon will, I assure you. You will beg for it before we are done here.”

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