Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t have typed that. Before River’s answer appeared, I already knew what he was going to tell me.
You’re worried. Either you’ve become emotionally invested, or I’ve missed something and should be there to check in on him. Which is it?
I suppressed a sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose.
River hadn’t missed a thing, and he knew it. Despite our experience, we tailored each scene and treated a new partner for what he was—new. New to us. New to our dynamic. But as co-Sadists, River and I had perfected our way of communicating with each other, and if there was anything about Shay that River needed to know, he could count on me to convey it.
Knowing full well that it was impossible to evade the answer for very long, I opted for a cop-out reply for the moment.
See you in 30 minutes for your shift.
This was Shay’s fault. It was he who made me fret and bite my thumbnail as if I were a nervous preteen. For the love of Christ, no matter how much I’d always preferred physical sadism over mental, watching and assisting River with his scenes had never failed to excite me. Until now.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. A young man who denied having Little tendencies—and to be fair, he wasn’t a Little in any obvious, outward way whatsoever—and yet, he drew out the Daddy Dom in me with a force I hadn’t anticipated. Because those glimpses of vulnerability he revealed were unlike anything else. I watched him sit there on the floor, rocking back and forth, whimpering, pleading to go to the bathroom, hands cuffed, bag over his head, and all I wanted to do was run over to him and tell him Daddy was here.
I checked my watch.
Seven minutes until River was due.
He was sticking to the plan, which meant he was about to mindfuck Shay pretty hard.
To the boy, it would feel like River was running a sharp blade across his body. In reality, it was a glass pin—similar to the kind Ivy used for knitting—dipped in a bucket of ice. The cold combined with the thin needle had fooled plenty of subs.
Ivy liked to call it the “mindfucky wand.”
I usually found it funny.
Eight
Shay Acton
I sniffled and gnashed my teeth harder.
…forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine…
Sweat and tears burned in my eyes, and my face itched like crazy. I couldn’t shake it. I kept rubbing my face against my knee, but it only made the itching worse, and my hands were killing me. My shoulders protested painfully, my ass was cold, the room was chilly but had a humidity to it that made me feel like I was running a constant cold sweat. But worst of all was my stomach. I had to pee so damn badly.
River probably wanted me to humiliate myself by pissing right here.
…fifty, sixty…
Wait. I shook my head. I got it wrong again.
…thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two…
I didn’t know why I was counting anymore. I’d tried to search for patterns in the thread count of the burlap bag, but it wasn’t bright enough. It strained my eyes. So I’d started counting to one hundred instead, over and over.
…sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six…
“Ow…” I whimpered as I tried to stretch my arms within my confines. The cuffs weren’t that tight; my wrists didn’t hurt much. My shoulders, though…fucking hell. Tears streamed down continuously at this point, and my breath kept hitching on a cry. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to pee and then sleep for a week in River and Reese’s bed.
I tried to stretch my neck a little. Never knowing when that loud-as-fuck music or laughter would return had forced me into a position where I was keeping my head lowered. Ready to press one ear against my shoulder to drown it out.
What number was I on?
Fuck. I had to start over.
One, two, three, four, five…
I missed Reese. I wanted him here to comfort me and tell me everything was gonna be all right, even though I already knew.
I was fucking pathetic!
I snarled to myself and took a deep breath, which I promptly choked on when I heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening. Holy shit. My heart started pounding instantly, and I turned toward the sound. They’re here! They’re back! They’d actually left me. So, there had to be a camera of some sort, right?
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I rasped. “Please. I beg you.”
“I put my knife around here somewhere…”
The low muttering had to belong to River, and I was so relieved to hear a voice other than my own that I became weepy.
“River, is that you?” I croaked. “May I please, please, please go to the bathroom?”
“Riv—”
“Quiet,” River snapped. At me, I assumed.
Emotions surged forward. The defeat was too crushing. It hurt my heart—like, my goddamn feelings. Hell, everything hurt. There was pressure on my chest, my eyes stung, and my throat closed up. A rushing sound in my ears prevented me from deciphering anything, though I thought I could hear whispering.