Page 33 of Sinister Games

Holding the candle over my arm, he leaned in close. The flame gave his features a shadowed, more sinister appearance. “Do you know why pain increases pleasure?”

“Richard, please.” Pleading, I tried to pull my arm free. His grip remained firm.

“Some believe it is because the pathways in the brain for both pleasure and pain overlap.”

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I felt the heat radiating from the candle.

“This isn’t funny, Richard.”

“I’m not laughing, Elizabeth.”

As he tilted the votive holder over my arm, I watched as the white candle wax, made clear from heat, pooled near the edge. Beads of sweat slipped between my breasts as my heart raced. Once more I tried to pull away.

“The real secret why pain increases pleasure lies in the anticipation. You see, little one, pleasure can be elusive but pain… pain never disappoints.” Richard rocked the glass holder between his fingers; each time the wax creeped closer to the edge. “Can you feel it? How all your senses are now alert? You can feel everything from the beating of your heart to each ragged breath escaping your lips.”

A single drop of wax fell onto my wrist.

Stifling a cry, I tried to wrench my arm away. “I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead.”

His boldness stunned me. We were in the middle of a public restaurant. He was a public figure. Surely he wasn’t so arrogant as to think a woman could scream “help” in his presence and nothing would happen?

I bit my lip so hard, the sickening metallic tang of blood mixed with the dried fruit taste of the port on my tongue.

“It’s intriguing how close our responses to both pleasure and pain can be. Heavy breathing. Moans. The tensing of the body. All the same.”

This time he tilted the candle deeper, allowing a line of hot wax to splash down onto my wrist. I began to cry. The liquid burn of the wax stung the thin delicate skin. Desperately I wanted to scratch off the drying bits but didn’t dare. Pressing my free hand between my thighs, I begged, “I don’t like this game. It hurts.”

“That’s the point.”

He splashed more wax onto my wrist. Pink skin began to blossom beneath the wax, creating a macabre design, an intricate web of pristine white and mottled red. The pain had taken on a sharp pitch, driven to higher levels by my fear.

“You see, by experiencing pain first, you have cleared a direct path to pleasure in your mind. Your body is primed to experience it. Begging for it. It is no longer an elusive mist but rather a pulsing, throbbing reality.”

Richard tilted the candle again. The hot wax poured over the wick, extinguishing the flame. A swirl of smoke rose between us along with the acrid scent of sulphur.

A sign of the devil.

Richard tossed the candle aside. His arm snaked out, grabbing me around the neck. My dress tore as I was forced to my knees before him. A submissive bowing before her dark lord.

Reaching for his belt buckle, he growled, “Now comes the pleasure.”

Despite the violence and pain, I actually found myself staring at his large hands as they methodically slipped the long leather strap through the metal buckle. My mouth went dry. I licked my lips, feeling my pulse rise even higher as I waited to see his cock. I had only felt it a few times as he pressed it against my hip or thigh. Now I wanted to see if the length and breadth of it matched my imagination.

Caring little about the patrons who circled our small enclosure, I slid my hands along the tops of his thighs, hissing as the still throbbing skin of my right forearm grazed the fabric of his trousers. It burned but not as much as that sting when the hot wax first made contact. Now it was a dull ache that still heightened my senses and made me even more aware of each movement and breath.

The pain–pleasure connection.

Pulling open the flaps of his trousers, Richard fisted the length of his cock and pulled it free.

Holy hell.

He was even bigger than I imagined. It was a leviathan. Thick and long, it jutted halfway up his muscled torso. Tentatively, I reached out my hand to touch the pulsing length. He felt smooth and hot, the purple tip shining with pre-cum. I held my hand up; he was almost twice the length over my fingertips.

Richard spread his knees wider and used the hand that was still on the back of my neck to push me forward.

“Have you ever deep throated a man?”

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