Page 46 of Where Sinners Repent

Ignoring her feeble attempts, I unlatch the case. Inside, everything sits in neat rows, each item secured. Sterile antiseptic wipes. A long, silver piercing needle. And a steel clamp. And finally, two silver piercings.

I grab the other two brand-new toys, in the colour black. Setting it all up in front of me. Seeing them laid out before me, while her scared whines echo in the open space, has my imagination racing. And my cock aching in sick need.

I pick up the wand sex toy and some duct tape, weighing them in my hands for a moment before turning back to her. Forcing each moment to be slow and unhurried. Her muffled cries stop when her eyes lock onto what I’m carrying, then flick up to my face.

Her relief is palpable.

Now, she mistakes this for some twisted pleasure. In some ways, she’s right. In others she’s so very wrong.

I stop just in front of her, staring down at her wet lashes. Her eyes are pretty. So blue and clear. Shining even brighter after her tears have leaked out.

I hold her gaze as I lower the wand, making sure the head of it is nestled by her clit. The moment it touches her, she whimpers. She’s as sick as I thought, because it sounds like she’s enjoying it.

Enjoying it even though her entire body trembles in utter terror.

She jolts at the sound of ripping duct tape as I tug it around her thigh, tightly securing the toy against her taut muscle.

I never smile. Yet the sight of her completely at my mercy, helpless beneath my gaze, drags one from me anyway. Her brows draw.

At least she’s smart enough to realise that a smile from me is not something she should want.

Reaching down, I turn the toy to high. Her entire body jolts as the buzzing sound fills the air and her eyes squeeze shut.

The muscles in her stomach tighten as she tries to manoeuvre the toy off her clit, but it just moves with her.

For a moment, I just watch.

Such a responsive thing, with her screwed-up face, and her hands balled into fists above her. Sweat begins to coat her soft skin.

Under nothing but the moonlight, she looks mythical. We’ll see if I feel the same way after I tear her apart.

Finally, another whimper falls past the ball gag, muffled and drenched in arousal. Those eyes flutter open, and a glazed sheen coats them.

She’s right where I want her.

The muscles in her arms strain under ink and sweat, yanking her arms trying to free herself. She stops with a jolt as another whine slips past the gag, her eyes rolling. Nostrils flaring, she tries to catch her breath.

Every second the wand vibrates on her clit drives her closer to orgasm. The first of many.

“It’s okay,” I say, barely a whisper. “You can come.”

As if my words were the match, she detonates. Sweet, raspy cries and her taut body, falling apart after only moments of stimulation.

She sags, eyes prying open to blink at me. It’s obvious that she thinks I’m going to turn the toy off now. When I don’t make a move, and the wand continues to assault her oversensitive cunt, her eyes flare.

She thrashes against the restraints, shaking her head in desperate refusal. A broken sound catches in her throat. Around the ball gag, saliva starts to drip from the corners of her mouth down her neck and chest. Each fighting breath has more dripping down her cleavage.

Returning to the workbench, I reach for the antiseptic wipe and tear open the packet. Across from me, she’s fighting the pleasure I’m giving her. Trying to keep her attention on whatever I’m doing. Her eyes follow my every movement, never once leaving me as I step back into her space.

Her pink nipples are already peaked. Running the cool wipe over them, she flinches instinctively, a shaky breath escaping. Fear flickers across her face now, replacing the defiance that she’d tried to cling to only moments before.

Every swipe of the antiseptic wipe is thorough, making sure everything that I’m about to play with is completely sterile. I want them to heal nicely before I hurt them again.

I take my time. More time to watch her mind whirl with confusion. More time to watch her come apart.

Only then do I set the used wipe aside and return to the bench, reaching for the next item without a word. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the uneven rhythm of her breathing and the soft buzzing of the vibrator.

Every second forces her to imagine what my next move is.