Page 28 of Deviant

Her body slumps, Dustin grabs her arm to hold her and I turn back, once more focusing on the next steps.

Someone is setting me up. Someone is stitching me up.

I call Conrad; as typical, the man doesn’t pick up. No doubt he’s busy fucking, or drinking, or God knows what, but I leave a voicemail telling him to call me back. We need to be careful, we need to watch ourselves.

And I need to find out who the hell is behind all this so I can skin them alive.

When I get back to the house, I’m more than wound up. I need an outlet, I need a way to vent, and luckily, I have just that down in the basement.

She screams as I drag her out. I’m not gentle. If she had any hair I’d be pulling her along by it. It’s almost a shame that I did shave her, but needs must, and taking such steps was necessary for the psychological effect, if nothing else.

She stares up at me as I plonk her down in the middle of my playroom, though it resembles more of a medieval dungeon with all the torture devices I have.

For a second, our eyes connect and I’d love to know what she’s thinking, what that determined little mind of hersis plotting. I know she still thinks she can beat me, I can see it in the defiant way she acts.

I hope that lasts.

And I want it to.

I want to keep fighting, to keep pushing, to truly indulge in every little fucked up thing I can think of before she finally cracks.

As I grab her right arm, she lashes out. One hard punch that hits me in my ribs. But it makes no difference. She’s strung up, stretched, spread eagled on rack, with every inch of her on perfect display. In truth, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as a woman’s body when it’s displayed like this. No art in the world, no fine jewellery, nothing compares to the magnificence of a woman forced to comply.

I made an adjustment to the original design so that there’s a bracket to hold the head upright, and, as Liliana stares right back at me, I know it was a genius move.

Too many of my past toys have ducked their faces, dropped their gaze, drifted off when they’re exhausted or their shame has taken them.

Liliana will be permitted no such mercy.

No, I’ll get to witness every moment of her pain, of her ecstasy, of her emotions too, as she’s forced to watch what I do to her from the giant mirror on the opposite wall.

With my hands, I run them down both her thighs. Already I can feel the way she’s turning to softness and while I like the idea of her being pliable, I do wonder how much I’ll miss her strength when it’s finally gone.

With one firm push, I wedge the toy inside her.

She gasps, giving me a delicious hit of her shock before her face turns once more to stone.

She’s tough, I’ll give her that. Tough. Stubborn. Absolutely perfect.

A quick tap of the control makes the egg come to life. The ropes creak as her body responds, but it’s only a low vibration, enough to tease, not to satisfy.

Yesterday, she had the audacity to think she could deny me an orgasm.

Today, she’ll be learning that she isn’t permitted such a decision.

She’ll come when I decide. She’ll come as many times as I choose.

I’ll make her body submit over and over to her shame and eventually she will get the message that I am her master. I am her everything.

I move to stand behind her, marvelling at how well we fit, how our bodies seem made for one another. Destined for one another. With a raise of my hand and a sharp flick, I bring the leather whip down onto her back.

And she hisses.

Oh, how she hisses.

“I gave you orders, pet.” I say calmly. “I told you exactly how you were to greet me when I entered your cell. That you were to be ready for me, and yet, so far, you’ve not obeyed once.”

No, the little minx was curled up, half asleep when I walked in. Even when I’d cleared my throat and made my presence known, she’d made no attempt to move, no attempt to do as she was told.

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