Page 88 of Eden's Deliverance

We hurt her. I’m not a pussy; I can handle taking accountability for my actions and the consequences that come with them.

The only thing that matters to me is that she belongs to us.

Unfinished basements really give me the fucking creeps.

Dark splotches of discoloration cover the low-hanging wood beams, splintered and nearly rotted from age alone. Spiderwebs spread across each corner where one of the beams meets a wall or column, giving off the eerie image of a killer’s lair. It doesn’t really have the appeal of a makeshift sex dungeon, but it’s what I have to work with.

Attached to the healthiest beam I could find, a triangle spreader bar hangs from a rope I tied to the column, allowing me to raise and lower her as needed. My darling Scarlett sits on her knees, arms raised and bound by the spreader with tape still covering her mouth.

She’s a true vision; her naked form displayed vulnerably in front of me, hair knotted from her interrupted slumber, her eyes covered with the same tie she used to blind me, and her poor knees cut to hell from the rough concrete flooring.

Her chest heaves in frustration as we sit and watch her, saying absolutely nothing to break the silence. Skylar sits in a chair behind her, legs spread wide while he leans back and soaks in this image of her. His fist is pressed to his mouth like he’s fighting the urge to speak or moan, but his eyes are devouring every inch of her gorgeous body.

The good thing about blindfolding her is that we don’t have to hide. We can take off our masks, get undressed, and fully indulge in the greatest pleasures of her without our identities being compromised.

Really, that’s the only thing that had me worried at Eden. She insisted I undress, and my life flashed before my eyes. I’ve been having my backpiece worked on for months now while Scarlett’s been at the tattoo studio, so she would have recognized it in an instant and blown up our entire charade. Not to mention the flash tattoo on my bicep from Friday the 13th.

No artist ever forgets a piece they’ve done.

I crouch down to meet her on the floor and remove the tape, ripping my arm back when her teeth chomp out at me. “Vicious little thing, aren’t you?” I tease.

She wets her lips before speaking, her tongue darting out to spread the moisture around. “You weren’t supposed to kidnap me. I have a real life, you fucks. My friend will know I’m missing and they’ll report it.”

“Which friend would that be? We know about the spat with your blonde bestie. She’ll give you the space we need for a few days of fun,” Skylar joins in, standing from his chair to kneel behind her and twirl a lock of her hair around his fingertip.

He’s on board, alright.

She flinches at the sudden touch, but otherwise remains unshaken. “My friend, Julian, and my colleagues. They’re all going to be at my work today and they’ll know if I don’t show up.”

Skylar’s eyes flick to mine. Looks like one of us needs to go back for her phone. “Another boytoy, Ruby?” he whispers in her ear, but she curls away from him—his breath too sensitive on her skin, and his words too threatening. “How many suitors do we have to fight off? That makes three now, huh?”

“I’m not with him, I swear,” she tries to explain, but he grabs her jaw and stretches her head back to rest his chin on her forehead.

“But you like him?” he pries. When she doesn’t respond, his fingers tighten until she whimpers a soft cry. “Answer. Do you like him?”

A tear tracks down her cheek from beneath the tie, and I can’t help but smile. Especially when she says, “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not with him.”

Skylar won’t let it go, though. This is how he plays. “Well, it’s still a problem we need to deal with, isn’t it? Our friend here seems to think you’ve given yourself over to us, but that can’t be true if you’re still thinking about someone else.”

“Which is it, Ruby?” I chime in, running my fingers lightly over her chest and down through her cleavage. “Are you ours, or someone else’s?”

She sucks her lips in to stifle a moan when I reach her nipple, pinching it between my fingertips until it’s rock-hard. Skylar lets go of her jaw to grope her other breast, but she uses her freedom to pull one of the oldest tricks in her book.

Rearing back for a second before lunging forward, she sends a glob of spit flying onto my face.

Lucky shot.

“I’m nobody’s,” she hisses. “I’m not his. I’m not yours. I’m mine.”

“Right.” It wouldn’t be Scarlett without the fight. I try to remember that as I wipe the saliva from my cheek and resist the urge to fucking slap her. “We’ll see about that,” I challenge, using my nails to cut into her nipple until she screams.

Skylar and I both stand, and he goes for the rope tied around the column when I signal for him to lift her. I search through my toy box for an especially fun gadget, then stalk back over to where she now hangs, toes barely touching the ground.

He takes his place behind her again, and when he sees what’s in my hand, his arms reach out on either side of her head to grab the straps from me. Lying in wait, he holds each band of the ball gag while I fidget with the clamps chained to it, pinching the clasps open to position them on each of her nipples.

When she empties her lungs with a shrilling wail, Skylar pops the gag into her open mouth and secures the buckle at the back of her head. “That’s the last time you’ll ever spit on him, do you hear me?” he whispers in her ear before shoving her head forward.

She sobs uncontrollably, saliva pooling around the ball and dripping down the corners of her mouth until she’s fucking drenched in it. A drop falls onto her tit, so I lick it up and move to the clamp, swirling and flicking my tongue against the device until she’s so overstimulated she can’t stand.

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