Page 41 of Hide Me Darling

Moving to the other side of the bed, they repeat the process with my other arm. By the time they are done, a lot of the feeling has started coming back and I'm able to jerk my arms and pull on the chains, but my strength is still weak and it just gets a low chuckle from both of them, the voice changer in their masks creating a sinister echo to the sound.

I can feel the leather cuff digging into my skin, the chains rattling softly with each movement. Abel’s grip on me is firm but not painful, his body a solid, unyielding presence behind me.

He must have raised his mask because I can feel his breath against my neck, slow and measured, sniffing at my skin. It contrasts sharply with my own rapid, panicked breaths, but I can’t move my head enough to see his face. Then I feel his tongue touch my neck, licking at me, tasting me.

The red of Cain’s mask makes him look like the devil incarnate as he kneels on the end of the bed. He wraps his hands around my ankles, his grip firm while his gloved fingers press into the bare skin there as he spreads them apart. I’m surprised he hasn’t bound them too, he leaves them free, but I can’t get them to cooperate with me.

My breath hitches, a mix of fear and something else I don’t want to acknowledge coursing through me. The sensation of being so completely at their mercy, so utterly controlled, stirs something deep inside me.

“Such a beautiful little shadow,” Cain murmurs, his voice a dark caress. “You pretend to be so strong, but you crave this, don’t you?”

I struggle against the chains and try to push against the strong body of Abel behind me, more out of instinct than any real desire to escape. The truth is, there is a part of me that is inexplicably drawn to this, to them.

They may be killers, but so am I. If they are going to enjoy the chase, I should be able to as well.

The loss of control—it’s intoxicating in a way I hadn’t expected. I can feel exactly how much Abel is enjoying my struggle, his hardening cock pressing against my back through our clothes.

Cain’s touch is deliberate, his fingers trailing up my legs as he moves to kneel between them. “Feeling coming back now?” he asks with a tilt of his head. He reaches behind himself and when his hand reappears he has a knife held in it, making my heart race. “Because I want you to be able to feel this.”

With a swift and deliberate motion, Cain slices through the fabric of my shirt and bra before he presses the edge of the blade against the sensitive skin of my breast. The sharp pain slices through the haze of fear, jolting me into a sharper awareness. I scream, a desperate sound mingling with the sound of rattling chains.

“That’s it baby, scream for us,” Abel's modulated voice whispers close to my ear with a groan. He must have pulled his mask back down when he was done sniffing me.

The knife traces a path, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to heighten my fear and discomfort. My body feels extra sensitive, still tingling and weak from whatever drug they had administered, but also like I’m now hyper focused on every touch against my skin.

He moves the blade across to my other breast, slapping the flat of it against my nipple and I whimper in response. Abel reaches around, his gloved hand sliding over the line of red blood starting to create a path over the curve of my breast. He smears it over my other nipple, spreading it like its paint as he circles a finger around the sensitive peak. He pinches the nipple between his fingers at the same moment Cain presses the blade into the skin at the side of my other breast.

I scream again, loud enough that I’m surprised that someone isn’t beating down the door to the house. Abel’s other hand moves to the new cut, spreading the blood over that breast too, and I jerk against the restraints when his fingers move over the fresh cut, probing for more.

“Why is no one coming to help me?” I grit out in frustration.

They both chuckle, the sound echoing around the room and making me shiver.

Abel brings one of his blood stained hands up to wrap around my throat, turning my face toward his, the neon green light shining brightly in my eyes. “You should be careful here, little shadow, the people in this town are just as twisted as we are,” he whispers and my heart sinks at his words.

The blade suddenly digs into the skin of my upper arm, I try to jerk away but Abel holds me firm. I grit my teeth against the pain, but I refuse to scream now, I refuse to give them exactly what they want. And it won’t make a difference anyway. Moments later he pulls the knife away again, trailing it gently down my body as I shake in agony and desire. It makes me want to lash out at him.

Cain's voice, distorted yet ominously smooth, fills the room. "Let's make this memorable, shall we?" With deliberate slowness, he traces the tip of the knife along the curve of my thigh through my leggings, leaving a cold, chilling sensation in its wake. He isn’t applying enough pressure to cut the material of the leggings yet, it’s just enough to tease, sending shivers through my body. Each touch feels calculated, purposeful, as if he's building and savoring the fear that pulses through me.

I swallow hard, my chest heaving with rapid breaths. The knife's tip moves to trace delicate patterns across the bare skin of my belly, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The sensation is both terrifying and strangely electrifying.

His other hand comes up to touch where his blade has already opened my skin. His fingertips move along each stinging cut, before spreading the blood. I hear the catch in his breath, the soft groan, almost like he is mesmerized by how it looks on my bare skin.

Abel’s hand returns to my breast, twisting and pulling on my nipple as his other tightens around my throat. It’s like his fingers have a direct line to my pussy, I can feel each pull and twist along the entire length of my body.

My body betrays me, responding to their touch despite my mind’s protests. I can feel the heat pooling in my core, a flush spreading across my skin. My breaths come faster, more shallow, as the conflicting emotions war within me.

As the blade hovers dangerously close to my pussy, I struggle harder against the chains, my heart pounding in my ears. "Please," I manage to choke out, my voice trembling.

Cain's masked face tilts slightly, almost inquisitively, as if my plea intrigues him. "Please what, little shadow?" His voice is taunting, a dark amusement lacing his words. "Do you want me to stop? Or do you want more?"

My mind races with conflicting thoughts, fear battling against a disturbing curiosity that twists my insides. Every touch, every cut, seems to awaken a primal response within me, a response that both thrills and horrifies.

"Please," I manage again, my voice barely above a whisper, betraying my own conflicted desires. The chains rattle softly as I strain against them, my body taut with tension.

Cain's masked face looms over me, his eyes hidden behind the eerie glow of his mask. "You're trembling, little shadow," he observes with a hint of amusement in his voice. "And your body tells me exactly why that is."

Abel's grip flexes around my throat, his touch strangely possessive yet oddly comforting in its firmness. His other hand continues its torment, fingers twisting and pulling. It’s as if he knows exactly how to play my body like an instrument, each touch resonating deep within.

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