Sapphire Scars (The Jewelry Box #3) Read Online Pepper Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Jewelry Box Series by Pepper Winters
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Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
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My heart picked up speed, growing sicker by the moment.

I love you. I balled my hands.

She half smiled, fear tiptoeing through her golden gaze.

Tearing her eyes away, she looked at something at four o’clock. A round mirrored ball—large enough to splay someone over, glittered with shackles and chains.

Images of Ily tied down in whatever position I wanted shot into my head.

Parts of me rebelled.

Parts of me woke up.

My monster prowled with its shadows of depressing darkness, twisting me the fuck up for wanting any of this.

Victor beamed at his playground. “What do you think?”

I locked my quaking knees, ignored my aching cock. “Looks fun.”

“Oh it is.” He winked. “Beaucoup fun. I look forward to teaching you how to use each one.”

My heart stopped.

“I think you should start with the St Andrew’s cross, seeing as you enjoyed Ily on a cross in my trophy room. This one can be tilted, flipped upside down, and widened…depending on your preference and access to what hole you require.”

I wanted to be sick.

I laughed instead. “Sounds good.”

“Let’s get the games going, shall we?” Victor strode toward the cross and quirked his finger. “Come here, Ilyana. Allow me to give your Master a quick demonstration.”

She flicked me a panicked look.

I shutdown all my terror.

Every molecule wanted to forbid her, but I nodded. “Go to him.”

I coughed.

Those three words gagged me.

Stuck like glass shards in my throat.

With a heartbreaking inhale, Ily obeyed.

With more poise and elegance than I could stand, she climbed to her feet, padded barefoot down the stone steps, and cut across the large pit.

Rachel looked up and gave her a quick smile.

Ily gave her one back.

With tight fists, she stopped before Victor.

She didn’t speak. She merely stood there…brilliant and brave, serene and submissive.

“You’re learning, my pet.” Grabbing her by the shoulders, Victor spun her around and pushed her against the cross.

She grunted as her back slammed against the hard wood.

I saw red.

I drowned in black.

I stalked forward, ready to tear his motherfucking head off.

And…stopped myself with agonising self-control.

Play along.

Distract him.

Do your part.

“Oh, I apologise, Ilyana. Did that hurt?” Victor smirked.

Keeping all her hate hidden, Ily bowed her head. “No, Sir V.”

He chuckled. “I have to say, I’m liking this improved version of you.” Pawing at the sash of her black dressing gown, he spread it wide and revealed her perfect body. She didn’t look at me as he tore it off her shoulders, leaving her bare.

He cupped one of her breasts, grazing his thumb over a nipple.

My restraint snapped. “Victor.”

“Yes, I know. Yours.” Letting her breast go, he grabbed her wrist and slammed it above her head.

Guilt and grief and godawful fury churned toxic in my stomach.

With a happy huff, Victor fastened her golden cuff onto a hook, then repeated the process with her right arm. Once both hands were trapped above her head, he toed the leather buckles dangling near her ankles. “It’s up to you how tightly she’s bound. Personally? I just confine the wrists. It’s easier to do this.” Grabbing her by the hips, he flipped her around. She moaned as her cheek and breasts wedged against the cross, her wrists criss-crossing with the hook twisting on its length of chain above.

Tears shot to my eyes.

Followed by the hottest, sickest gush of lust.

Fuck, I grew hard.

Achingly hard.

With a heady groan, Victor ran his hand down her waist and cupped her ass.

“Victor,” I snarled.

God, what was this doing to her?

Being touched by the man who raped her last night?

Having me stand by and allow him?

Jesus Christ.

He chuckled and let her go. “With their ankles unbound, it gives them a bit of leeway to dance under the whip’s sting.”

My head rushed with static.

I couldn’t breathe.

Stay in the role!

Wiping my mouth, I choked, “I can imagine.”

“Oh, no need to imagine, mon ami. You’re about to do it.”

I shivered with equal parts desire and despair.

“Have you ever whipped someone, Henri?”

“That’s it, Onn Ree. See how they welt for you? You’re very good at this, my boy.”

Swallowing my past, I shook my head.

No way would I admit I could swing a flogger at seven years old. That my education in this filth started well before I could read.

No wonder my mind blocked it out so completely.

Flipping Ily back to face us, Victor ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Let’s see how much you’re willing to fight when my friend paints you in lashes, hmm? Henri seems to think you’ll stay belligerent. Me? I think you’ll start begging. Shall we take a bet?”

Letting her go, he came toward me and stole the bag dangling forgotten on my fingers. Pulling the whip out, he tossed the bag to the side then yanked off the black ribbon. The oaky tannin smell grew stronger as the long length unspooled and landed across my loafers.

My cock thickened to painful levels.

I’d worn jeans and a black t-shirt; I sweated right through them.


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