Seize me From Darkness (Pierced Hearts Book 4) (18 page)

Sometime late morning, they came for me, locked me up, bagged me,
and marched me away.

If only I was Bruce Lee and able to defeat armed men with my kung
fu skills while blind and restrained. I’d loved those old movies but I knew when not to push, when to cooperate. Rebelling might get me injured and I needed to be fit.

The guard had
been stupid to take a job here, and stupid to blurt out his plans to us like he had. When a cop, I’d reserved my sympathy for the victims, not the criminals. Always.

It occurred to me that I’d not have thought much of my
self for falling into my current predicament. I’d have shrugged, muttered
poes
and moved on. Those who live by the gun die by the gun. Only in Gregor’s case, it was often the knife.

W
hen they took off my bag in the Room, I saw that today the knife wasn’t being featured. Under the center lights, they had a roll of single-stranded barbed wire, pliers, and a pair of heavy gloves.

And
...

I swallowed.

Jazmine, naked, hands tied above her head to the chains, with her head still bagged. Seeing her like that always shot a jolt of lust into me.

I’d have bet a million dollars they hadn’t told her what was at her feet. They wanted me to show her the surprise. My mouth was dry and my hands were sweating as the last guard unlocked them.

Be good, man. Be good.

“She’s waiting for you,” he said, chuckling. “Give us a fucking good show, man. I
wanked ten times a night all week after the last show.”

Driving my fist through his che
st would have to wait, but I made a rare exception to my rule of disengagement and mouthed
you bastard
in the direction of the dark window.

Gregor started up. “Go to her and take off the bag, please, Pieter. We want her to see what is coming.”

Her feet shifted on the floor, toes clenching. As I approached, her head swung my way and I could hear rasping breaths. Getting enough oxygen in those bags was often dicey.

Looking wasn’t a crime if she didn’t know, surely?

The peekaboo secrets of her sex where the beginning of her slit showed and the cute round targets of her nipples were blatant advertisements of her femaleness. I lingered, willing my cock to behave.

She was the definition of alluring.

“It’s me, Jazmine. Ignore him. Just listen to me. What you’ll see isn’t good, but it’s not that bad either. Think of it as creative wrapping. ” I whispered the last. “I will be as gentle as I can.”

Their no talking rules may or may not have been in effect. I didn’t care.

Then I undid the neck cord and took off the bag. Her gasp and facial flinch made me want to hug her.
Fuck no.
I needed to make this look worse than it was, not better.

“
Is that barbed wire?” Her question was so quiet I had to strain to hear it.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She sucked in her bottom lip and looked to me.

“
Keep watching me. Don’t look down.”

The speaker clicked on.
“You are going to wrap the little miss here in the wire. It should be most interesting when you make her orgasm. Hmm? All those nasty fucking sharp wires. Digging in? Hmm?”

Where was a rocket
-propelled grenade when you needed one?

“Answer me, Pieter.”

I nodded slowly, while I looked at her small feet and the remnants of red toenail polish. That reminder of normality disturbed me. “Yes. It will be interesting.”

Then I found a blindfold
and fastened it over her eyes.

“Why’d you do that,” she asked.

“I think it’ll be better for you if you can’t see the wire.”

Her breasts rose and fell. The overhead light
ing painted her nipples glossy and luscious and shone on the upper slopes of her breasts and her long thighs. I resisted touching.
Pretend she’s made of thorns.

“Answer me this,” she added quietly,
her voice wobbling. “Are you afraid I’ll see you enjoying this? Have you got a hard-on, Pieter?”

You cl
ever girl.

I said nothing,
afraid the thickness in my throat would mess up my words. She’d hear my excitement. I couldn’t afford that. I’d lose her.

“
Shhh.” I put my palm over her mouth. If she continued, I’d gag her.

I had
n’t expected my reaction to be this extreme. It didn’t matter. I’d be careful, like I’d told her. This was happening whether I enjoyed it or not.

How could I not? She was female and I was a sadist given carte blanche with a roll of barbed wire and her naked body.

But with the roll of wire at my feet, glinting like the silver angel on her wrist, with the gloves in one hand, and the heavy pliers in the other, I made myself stop and think. What was tumbling around in my head was making me feel like a schizoid evil clown.

I’d vowed to help her, not feast off her defilement.

I sauntered over to pretend I needed something at the rack of implements, but all I was doing was staring at the wall. Dirty red-brown rust marks meandered across the cracks.

Victim. She’s a victim.
I care for those, remember? I’d never have done anything like this to Elenor, or not and enjoyed it. Why was this different?

It shouldn’t be.
Where had my resolution to be good gone?

Perhaps because
, deep down, I’d convinced myself that I could make her like this?

Yay for me
, and what a good convenient excuse. I’d beat the most hard-core alcoholic at this game – how to get your fix without breaking the rules.

I
didn’t
need to be a switched-on sadist to make this particular scene work. They’d left me an electric vibe to make her come. The white lead trailed across the floor to where it lay near her feet. Wrapping her in wire wasn’t a delicate composition of pain and pleasure like before. This was construction work.

Pretend you’re wrapping a cake in wire.
Where was the pleasure in that?

If I got off on this
, I’d be one step closer to the gutter.

“Are you doing fine, Pieter?” Even through the crackles I could hear Gregor’s amusement. “We are getting just a little bored here.”

I clenched my hand on the pliers then shuffled on the gloves. I turned and made for the wire.

“Good man!”

Fok jou.

I
picked up the coil and played with the wire – bent it, got the feel of it and its springiness, tested the points on my skin. At least it seemed super clean. I looked her over, ambling in a circle while trailing my fingertips at her waist.

“Just me,”
or “good girl,” I murmured now and then. Most of the bruises had faded. A new canvas for pain. Already I could imagine her squeals.

Thank god she couldn’t hear my nasty thoughts.

What was the name for a man like me? Pain-oholic sounded right though fucked-up would do too.

I started checking her body again, turning her a little this way and that with my hands at her waist,
bending to kiss her back, her nape, while wondering where it would be too dangerous for those sharp points to rest. Bad was anywhere that blood would spill badly if punctured, or that would choke her, or maim her permanently. Not her throat, not her face.
God, no.

Her mouth was in mid
-pout, her feet flat on the floor, muscles quiet. She seemed...at rest, calm. My handling and talking had relaxed her.

I inhaled.
Damn.
She trusted me.

“I’m starting now.”

I began to wind on the wire, beginning with her legs. Sometimes I’d be brought up short by a glimpse of a particularly fascinating part of her body or by the leak of blood where a wire scratched her pale skin. Or, worst of all, by a restrained whimper. Those quiet female noises grabbed me every time. They were like the scent of prey to a hound on a trail. Fresh meat. Something to devour.

I
’d catch myself looking or listening, shake myself, and move on. I lessened the cruelty by stroking her as I went. With the lick of my tongue and nips of teeth, I laid the ground for the course of the wire. I found ways to help her feel more than pain. I sucked on her nipples, ran my hands over her mound and all the while I desperately tried to stay disengaged.

Impossible...but
I kept trying.

The wire was starting to restrict her responses to pleasure. Her body would undulate then she’d hiss
or whimper, catch herself, and stiffen.

O
nce only, I kissed her. The softness of her lips contrasted with the hardness of the metal across her belly. I held my bare hand against the wire as I moved her lips aside with my tongue.

Her moans
then that gorgeous flinch from the metal while I breathed into her mouth, kissed her hard, and penetrated her mouth with my tongue...it was so addictive.

My heart
did away with blood and pumped obsession.

Where the barbs dug in just under her nipples and below her breasts, or where they pressed on her mons above her clit, I had problems. Some things were too mouthwatering to avoid
seeing.
My inner sadist was being bad.

Sharp and deadly versus soft and vulnerable.
Like fire to an arsonist, searing me, searing her.

Move on.

But the urge,
ohmigod
, the fucking urge took me in its vice, ground me up, spat me out all delirious. Those glittering shards embedded in my mind.

I retreated, backed away,
breathing hard, stood there with my hands at my sides, overwhelmed.

I could look at this forever, my siren in wire.

“Pieter?” She searched blindly for me, carefully, so as not to rub on wire. “Where are you? Please?”

M
y cock was begging me so much I’d have fucked her in an instant.

Did
n’t
matter
, none of it. The alternative was Gregor. I could help her still.

I understood now. A man faced with a beautiful
naked woman parading on a beach could look away, but gift him with that woman to touch and play with and he’d have no hope of staying calm. Neither did I, when handed this.

She couldn’t see the state I was in.

I wiped my mouth and stepped closer. “I’m here.”

When it came to switch on the vibe, I
flicked the cord out of the way then I took one look at my wire-wrapped beauty.

There were gaps, there was looseness, but I had no idea what would happen when she
came.

“We are ready, Mister Pieter! Make it good.”

I stepped up and squashed the rounded head of the vibe to her clit, nestled it in so the lips of her pussy bulged out around it.

“Ready,
meisie
?”

Her mouth opened
and I paused a moment to admire the swell of those ripened curves. Even there, she mesmerized me. I pressed the switch.

The hum made her hiss
and arch instantly then jerk back as the wire’s points dug in.

My heart
thumped but I held the vibe in position.

Her little
whines built in intensity as the climax came over her. She screamed then rocked and juddered into the vibe, her thighs tensing, but little else of her moving. Surprising to me, how fast that had arrived. Thirty seconds?

“More, Mister Pieter!”

I didn’t need prompting. I’d left her nipples bare of wire so I pulled and pinched them as I revolved the vibe’s head in small circles.

She shook her head, begging
. “Not...more. Not yet.”

“
Shh.”

“No!”

I undid the blindfold. Eye contact might help her.

Then I
put my whole hand on her mouth, listening to the hiss of air through her nose to make sure she could breathe. She looked at me, then down, focusing on my hand, as if fascinated by my hold on her. As I worked at her clit, her eyes hazed and her hips arched out, until the wires must be hurting. The tips dented her skin. This time, her screams and whole body shudders lasted for ages. Small droplets of blood trickled down her upper thighs. Sweat stood out on her brow.

Her gasps and screams through my fingers had been...enthralling. Watching her come while in pain...like this.
Fok.

I stepped back
, still holding the vibe, to wipe my forearm across my face. My breathing was a little chaotic. The vibe hummed on while I counted. It was thirty-five before she recovered and relaxed and her hands uncurled from the chains above.

But there was blood. I frowned and dragged myself out of my sadistic study.