Watch me come for you.
I slide the wet fingertip over my clit. A moan escapes me, the sensation spreading through my hips.
Slowly, I circle the sensitive nub, applying more pressure with each stroke. I am so turned on that my body begins to writhe in need.
I feel like I’m starring in my own little erotic movie, my own fantasy. But the best part is knowing what I’m doing to him.
I bite my lip and stroke harder, faster.
Watch me come for you, my beautiful monster.
My breath becomes shallow. The sensation begins to peak. It feels like all the blood has rushed between my legs, the drum-like throbbing building to an almost painful crescendo.
Faster, faster, faster.
I scream his name as I come.
Astor.
Oh God, Astor.
I drop my head against the pillow, pull my fingers up to my belly, and close my eyes for a minute to regain my composure.
When I open them, he’s gone.
Twenty-Nine
Sabine
After cleaning myself up, I pull on a sweatshirt and panties, and then crawl into bed. I lie there for over an hour, daydreaming of Astor and all the things I want to do to him. Wondering if he’s masturbating now, thinking of me, envisioning me too.
I’m desperate for him.
I’ve never felt this way in my life. Never needed something so badly.
My captor.
Sighing at the insanity of it all, I roll over, and my heart jumps into my throat.
On the pillow next to mine lies a pink baby doll.
Its head has been cut off.
Thirty
Sabine
The moment the sun rises, I am showered, dressed, and striding down the hallway, creepy headless doll in hand.
Today’s fashion-forward outfit includes (another) pair of baggy jeans (rolled at the ankles so not to trip over the hem), granny panties, and a white cashmere sweater. The sweater is rather nice, which leads me to believe Prishna included it by accident.
As usual, the lake house is eerily quiet. No television, no music, no voices, hardly any lights on.
I pass the kitchen, ignoring the pull of fresh coffee because I am on a mission. I bang on the door at the end of the hallway.
No answer.
I bang again.