Page 63 of Every Shade of Shadow

I shift uneasily.

“Shall we begin?” he says. “Simply say ‘stop’ when you’re ready for me to fuck you, to take your innocence.”

I stiffen. So that is what he intends—to deflower me.

What else? I consider. The whole time, this whole dance, has been leading to this. It’s here and I want to what? Run away?

But I never pictured I would lose my virginity in a dungeon strapped to a torture table.

“And now,” he says, “the spell, to transfer pain to power.”

He speaks it, lips barely moving and the spell itself largely inaudible, but I feel it coursing through me, my skin becoming sensitive and hot.

I will try, I tell myself. I will take whatever he has in store for me.

But with the first crank of the lever, I start to think otherwise.

My ankles and wrists pull away from my body, stretching me out, my spine straight against the rollers. I breathe in rapid puffs.

The shadows scatter, running out to my extremities.

The Professor cranks the lever again, his thick cock standing to attention. I scream as my joints are pulled to their limits.

Already? I think, concern welling up.

I’m dizzy, the room starting to spin at the edges. I scream out in agony, my vision beginning to blur.

“Any time,” he reminds me in a steady voice, and cranks the lever again.

The pain is so excruciating now I cannot let out another scream. It seems like all the energy has left my muscles, my vocal cords paralyzed. Instead, I leave my mouth open as my breasts flatten into pancakes and my joints pull to their absolute extremity.

This can’t be happening.

Told you, says stupid Imaginary Sabrina.

“Are you ready to be fucked yet, little lamb?”

Yes, no. I cannot decide. Anything to end this pain, to be free of it even for a few minutes.

“Very well.” Another pull of the lever and my broken body actually cracks. Something gives way—I’m not sure what. I am on the very edge of destruction. Of absolute dismemberment. I can only inhale in short rasps, shadows, pale light, and Darkwood’s figure blurred into a shapeless mass.

“The next pull of this lever will break you. Trust me on this.”

Darkwood holds the lever, baiting me.

I relent.

I thought I was stronger than this, but my body can’t take any more.

All that bravado and I tap out so soon.

“Stop,” I pant.

He smiles, hand lifting off the lever. “As you wish.”

He moves to the foot of the rack, stepping free of the shadows. I see more scars there, magical mishaps, but also the rigid muscle of a man in his prime. His tattoos swim, cover almost every inch of his torso and chest.

He takes hold of a smaller lever in the corner and begins to turn it. My legs begin to spread apart.

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