“Why are you doing this?” I cry out.
He turns back to face me. “Tonight was the first and last time you threatened my life. I gave you one chance only. You wasted it. It’ll never happen again.” He drags his gaze one more time over my sheet-covered body before stepping out and closing the door.
I can’t believe it. He’s serious. He’s punishing me by leaving me like this until the vibrator battery runs flat. Indignant anger heats my veins as other parts of my body heat with unwanted arousal. I try to mentally override the sensations by focusing on my vexation, but the physical won’t be denied. I feel because I’m human. I become needy despite my desire not to.
The setting is too low to get me off quickly. It takes a long time, and finally I’m so frustrated I wiggle and squirm to set the orgasm off. The relief is instantaneous and intense, but brief. My clit is oversensitive. I can barely tolerate the uninterrupted hum penetrating my flesh and bones. Moving in an attempt to escape the torturous stimulation doesn’t help. The toy is strapped on too tightly.
After suffering the relentless vibrations for the longest time ever, pleasure starts to build anew. My need climbs. I’m wet, and it only makes it worse. Somehow, the assault on my lower body parts feels more intense, or maybe it’s just because my body is so sensitive after the first orgasm. The need for release rises slowly, driving me to tears. It’s like a rubber band that stretches and stretches. When the tension finally breaks, I’m panting. Unfortunately, this time I hardly feel the release, because the need is as constant now as the unbearable sensitivity of my flesh. My clit throbs, and my folds are swollen. My nipples remain hard. My lower body contracts as another cycle of need commences.
I’m clenching my teeth not to make a sound. I won’t give Maxime the satisfaction. By the time the sun is bright and high, I’m drenched in sweat, and the sheet around my sex is soaked. It hurts to come, but I can’t stop. Every cycle is agonizingly slow, the constant need always outweighing the brief release. It becomes so intense my whole body pulls tight with spasms until my toes curl. My muscles ache. There’s a strange burning sensation on the soles of my feet. My hair sticks to my forehead. When another cruel climax takes over my body, my eyes roll back in my head.
At some point during the afternoon, I’m so exhausted I fall asleep, only to be woken with another release that tears me apart. I don’t know how many times I come, only that when the battery finally hums too weak to wrench more agony from my body, I sink into the mattress with a sob of relief. It’s like falling into a weightless void. It’s only when I’m able relax my muscles for the first time that I realize how tense they’ve been drawn all day. I’m aching all over, but at last I can escape into the blissful reprieve of darkness.
Chapter 9
Maxime
The thought of Zoe coming around a vibrator in my bed is a temptation impossible to resist. I go to my study and lock the door behind me before activating the security camera, letting the image reroute to my laptop. I enable sound, too. I told her not to make noise. I can’t let her get away with anything, not after she pushed an icepick against my heart and broke my skin. Not after the attempt on her life last night. Her obedience is all the more important. As long as she obeys me, I can keep her safe. It’s defiance that opens opportunities for my opponents and puts her at risk.
With her dark hair spread over my pillow and her naked limbs stretched under the sheet, she’s too beautiful to be human. I wish I’d left her uncovered to better appreciate the view, but her body temperature will eventually drop from exhaustion, and I didn’t want her to be cold.
Watching her wrestle with her arousal, I take the tupper dish Francine had given me yesterday from the windowsill and place it in front of the laptop on my desk. I flick the lid off with a finger. The inhabitant immediately raises its tail. It’s a buthus occitanus, a black scorpion. Francine found it in the kitchen. They’re hardy little buggers to kill, so she threw a plastic container over the invader and slid the lid underneath to catch it inside. It tries to climb out of its prison, but the container is too deep.
A moan pulls my gaze to the screen. Head thrown back, Zoe orgasms so hard I can see her body convulse under the sheet. I smile. She’s gorgeous when she comes. I’m looking forward to witnessing every one of her climaxes. I wonder how many times she’ll come.
The scorpion turns inside the container. Leaning forward, I study it. Their venom isn’t deadly. There are plenty of the small species around here. They favor the rocky landscape. Every year, we find at least a dozen in the garden.
I’m not a huge cigar fan like my father, but I light one now and suck on the end until the tip glows red. I’m a punishment behind, tonight excluded. I never made up for the night I fucked Zoe like a whore in the hotel.
Taking a big drag on the cigar, I roll the smoke around in my mouth before exhaling it into the container. It makes the scorpion furious. They don’t like smoke. It swings its claws in the air, snapping its pinches together. I inhale and blow on it again, aggravating the little creature. Smoke is a danger. Its instinctive reaction is to escape that danger and to protect itself by attacking whatever threatens its life. When it’s in full-blown survival mode, I stick my finger in the container.
It behaves exactly like it should. It hollows its back and zaps me with the sharp tip of its tail.
Motherfucking Jesus.
It hurts like a bitch. The burn is like nothing I’ve felt before. It creeps through my finger and up my arm, setting fire to my veins. It’s different to the flames that cooked my skin. That burn came from the outside and melted inward with pain. This one starts on the inside, burning outward until it feels like my nails may peel back from my skin.
“Good job, buddy,” I say as I sink back into my chair with grunts of agony.
I don’t cut off my blood circulation to prevent the poison from spreading. I eat it up eagerly, letting my body’s natural functioning carry it farther. My heart pumps faster. My blood flows stronger. The poison burns in my shoulder and down my chest. Sweat breaks out over my body.
Zoe comes.
Perfect. Beautiful.
I take a last drag of the cigar before putting the tip out on my finger, right on the sting.
Fuck, that hurts.
It sizzles and burns, killing one pain with another, but the affected parts of my body continue to hum as the venom works through my system, and Zoe starts crying from frustration.
The only way I can handle her tears is if I hurt myself worse than I’m hurting her. This isn’t hurt for Zoe per se—I didn’t lie about not physically hurting her—but sexual suffering can sometimes be worse. Her agony is riveting. It stokes my fire, making a different kind of poison burn in my blood. I want her lips around me. I want to fuck her mouth and come down her throat while agony rips through me, while three kinds of fire are wracking my body.
I unzip and take my cock in my hand. I’m so hard I’m aching. Going to my flower now won’t serve tonight’s lesson. She’s got to live this one out alone. I stroke a couple of times, making the burn in my arm brighter. Closing my fist, I squeeze hard and rip my hand up and down. I let the cocktail of pain fuel me, mixing rough pleasure with agonizing suffering and twisted stalking on a laptop screen until my balls draw up and violent release erupts.