Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
8
Lula
Victor sets down the tool he was holding, something silver and vicious-looking. When he trails his fingers up and down my torso, I’m so on edge that I flinch from his comforting touch.
“Shhhh,” he shushes me. “We’ll start off easy.”
“I bet you say that to all your victims.” How many people has he had on this table to carve into until they beg for death?
He fondles my breasts, and I close my eyes again, goosebumps prickling over my body.
“No, beautiful. You will want to watch this.” He holds up what looks like small silver tweezers in one hand while the other rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Then, he clamps it with the tweezer’s padded end. Pain bites into me and subsides almost immediately. I clench my jaw. Is it better to holler loudly now and pretend I’m more sensitive than I am?
No, I decide, watching him study me and stroke my chest, tracing the spot where my sword necklace used to lie. He wants my real responses. Faking it will make him angry.
Not that this is a game I can win. I’ve calculated my odds of survival at less than ten percent.
He clamps my other nipple and reaches under the table. There’s a whirring sound, and the table starts to rise. Victor waits for it to finish its movement, stroking my leg. His fingers find the raised edge of my most recent scar, and I suck in a breath.
He reaches down and stops the table from moving, leaning down to study the slight scar on my thigh.
“What is this?” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Who hurt you?” He raises his head, making it clear the question was aimed at me.
“It was stupid.” I shake my head and remember his admonishment to be truthful. “My one souvenir from the shootout with Bruno.” A reminder that I got so close to Stephanos only to fail. “There were chairs and tables in the way, and in all the shooting, there was shrapnel.” It wasn’t even a bullet. It was a splinter.
I admit this to Victor, but he doesn’t laugh. He nods, looking thoughtful.
“I misjudged him,” I admit. “Stephanos. I never knew he’d have men who’d be so loyal.”
“Ah. Yes. Bruno. He is loyal. Like a puppy you raise to tear out men’s throats but also to eat from your hand.”
He touches the button under the table, and it continues to rise before tipping forward. I’m on an incline with my head higher than my feet, my weight supported by the steel table and little metal platforms under my heels. With the slight pull of gravity, the tweezer clamps hang from my nipples.
Victor takes a moment to toy with them. “Easy, right?” He unclamps my first nipple, and I suck in a breath. Blood flows back into the tender bud. “Now, let’s try these.” He holds up a new pair of wicked-looking clamps with tiny screws on one end and little chains on the other. Each chain is tipped with a tiny black jewel. “They’re not as bad as the clover clamps. We’ll work our way up to those.”
He leans in close, his breath caressing my face as he clamps me. First, he twists my nipples this way and that, lifting my full breasts until my back arches off the table. I should hate being manhandled like this, but something about his intense attention mesmerizes me. Every touch stokes the heated longing deep in my core. I try to fight it, but it’s inexorable, like a rising tide.
It’s a relief when he’s finished. He plays with the dangling jewels, then tightens the screws. The sharp sting steals my breath.
“Too much?” He watches my expression. “Breathe through it.” He drops his hand, stroking the tops of my thighs. “Vera. Breathe.”
“Don’t call me that.” I almost laugh. “That was my mother’s name.”
“All right, then. Lula.” He purrs my nickname. I’ve never heard anyone speak it outside of family. It sounds different on the lips of a man who’s been inside me. A melodic rise and fall, a line of a song. “You must breathe for me. Otherwise, you might lose consciousness, and what’s the fun in that?”
“I thought you’d like me unconscious. Or dead.”
“The dead feel no pain.” He tightens the screws another millimeter. “What do you know of endorphins?”
“Feel-good chemicals. The body’s response to pain.”
“Natural morphine. The body releases a load at a time. A round of pain, another load. More time, an increase in pain, another load.” Another turn of the screws. My belly is taut as if that will help disperse the sting. “Eventually, you will grow high from it. That is where you will be malleable to me.” He puts his face close to me, nuzzling my cheek like a lover. “I will take you to the edge of what you can endure, again and again. Then, I will stretch your limits until you can take more.”