Page 58 of Devious Delusions

Her eyes slowly travel from between her legs to my face—the mask—and she just stares. The bright blue has nearly been fully eaten up by her pupils, but the small ring is even more hypnotic against her reddened cheeks.

She doesn’t answer, so I add in the same low whisper, “Remember me, Delilah. Who am I?”

Her brows slowly come together as she fights the tension in her body to answer.

“You’re the ghost,” she whispers back. “The one who was chasing me?”

I pull my hand back and nod. “I’m the only one who chases you. Now, be my good little whore and try not to break.”

All of her old toys I stole have been cleaned since I’ve kept them for her, but she stares at the fake dick, then to me as I take it out of the box. It’s not the largest in her collection, but she’ll earn them all one by one. I lower the vibrations as I slowly feed the tip of the fake dick into her. She clenches and mumbles a bunch of incoherent nonsense.

I don’t watch the dick entering her when I can replay it back on the cameras whenever I want. I watch her face. Her mouth opens, elongating the sounds she’s making as I lose the gentleness and push the dildo inside her until the base is pressed against her lips.

Her groan is fucking feral and there’s going to be a wet spot on my boxers from how much my dick leaks precum at the sound of it, but we’re still playing my game and it isn’t over yet.

26

DELILAH

My eyes burn along with every inch of my skin. It travels through me as he tortures me and changes the speed of the vibrations. The buzzing is more intense and shakes my thigh along with the rest of my body.

He slaps his wet fingers against my cheek and his voice is darker, more violent.

“Do not fucking drop it.”

I clench around the toy as he slowly pulls his hand back.

The box on the floor between us is mine, and every item other than the plastic wrap is something from the memories I thought weren’t real.

I can’t focus with the way he keeps changing the rhythm of the vibrator. It’s intense and the addition of the dildo has me clenching harder. Every time I do, it makes it press against my over-heightened nerves until I can’t take it anymore, so I scream.

My scream echoes off the glass and my vision doubles as I climax. It’s violent and my inner muscles work on the aftershocks as they make the dildo shallowly thrust. My ghostquickly presses his hand through the hole in the seat to keep it in place and awe wraps around his voice.

“Such an impatient little thing. Did I say you were allowed to come?”

I can’t draw enough air into my lungs and whimper as he slaps his fingers off my cheek again. There’s more force and it stings. But the awe remains as he says, “It’s okay, koukla mou, you’ll enjoy your punishment.”

The vibrations are more intense than they ever have been, and I thrash. My movements are fast and panicked, making the chair rock, but he grabs my shoulder and pushes down, forcing me to remain in place. It distracts me from his hand leaving between my thighs and going back into the box.

He pulls out another toy. This one is wider, and he coos, “Shhh, I told you not to break yet.”

The hand on my shoulder leaves and he gently brushes my hair off my forehead. Sweat coats my skin, making errant strands stick to it, but he remains gentle as he positions his hand back under me. I clench at the sensation of the new toy tracing the seam of the other that’s still inside me, but he hardens his voice.

“You are my little fucking doll.” Grabbing the hair at my crown in his fist, he pulls my head back. “Your devious cunt is mine, and if you stopped giving it away, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

He slowly pushes the other toy into me, and I whimper at the burn of them both stretching me. My breathing shallows and I hold my breath like that will help with the intensity of the vibrations. His palm glides forward until his fingers are pressed against my ass, and my muscles are too sore to clench. The frame of the seat digs into the back of my thighs and my shoulders burn with my arms tied behind my back, but the pain is satisfying.

My head falls forward as he pushes his palm up, so both of the toys are inside me. He pulses his palm and strokes my cheek with the knuckles of his free hand as he softly asks, “Do you remember what you did to me?”

I don’t have the energy to shake my head or answer with the way he’s torturing me, but I can hear the hurt in his voice. It’s deep and angry, no matter how much he attempts to disguise it. The ghost is real, and he hates me. He hates me to the point that he wants to ruin me when none of my memories, the ones without Asher and the ones with him, have anything to tell me who he is.

He gently taps his knuckles on my cheekbone. They barely dent my skin as he does it as though it’s a hint to who he is, then the words follow the two slow taps.

“Knock. Knock.”

I can’t think.

I can’t fucking do anything.

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