Chapter 26 Estella #4
A choked yelp escapes me when he switches to another function. The toy shifts, adding a pulsing air-pressure suction that closes around my clit. My eyes roll back as he holds it there, letting the device surround me, pull me in, release, then draw me again.
And again.
And again.
“Cut off their hands for touching you,” he continues. “Rip out their tongues for licking you, kissing you.”
More sweat beads along my hairline, my back, and my face, sliding hotly down my temples. My mouth works helplessly against the tape, nearly sucking it in with every broken, desperate sound. The pleasure is blinding, flaring over my skin like molten gold.
Still, it isn’t enough for him.
A slick, wet sound joins the vibrating hum as he activates the third mode. A tapping begins—light but relentless—joining the suction and the vibration in a merciless trinity. The added rhythm pulses through me, through every soaked, trembling inch of me.
And the world narrows to that point of touch. That unbearable pressure. That rising, unstoppable wave.
This is a goddamn punishment. Dante isn’t hiding his intentions—or his obsession. His feelings are right here, stretched across every inch of me like shadow and heat.
And this… this is the other side of the coin I get. His jealous, possessive side.
As if I needed more reasons to be consumed by this man.
“You’re mine, Estella,” he growls, voice soaked in devotion and danger. “I own every bit of pain, and everything else inside you. Your heart, your body, your soul. There’s no escaping me, little shadow. I’d peel apart every corner of this planet to find you.”
His movements grow rougher, more demanding, his resolve sharpening as pleasure floods through me. Too far gone to care, I start grinding against the toy and his fingers, chasing the orgasm that pulses like lightning in my veins.
But the second I do, he pulls everything away, leaving a jagged, icy emptiness that slices through me harder than shattered glass.
My back arches, desperation wrenching my body, muffled pleas escaping through the tape. My breath stutters, and every part of me shakes.
He leans in, his body looming above me like a storm cloud ready to swallow what’s left of me. Slowly, he peels the tape from my mouth, and the air strikes my wet lips. I lick them instinctively, tasting the warm trails of saliva.
His face stays inches from mine, close enough for me to feel every exhale he releases.
He brings the toy back to my pussy, and the world snaps back into motion.
The vibrations, the tapping, the suction on my clit—each sensation slams into me at once, ripping raw moans and broken cries from my throat.
“Do you want to cum?” he murmurs, voice low and sinful.
My head feels impossibly heavy as I lean forward, desperate to kiss him, but he withdraws just a fraction—enough to force me to speak.
“Yes,” I breathe, the word fragile and strained. My chest heaves, every breath a battle between pleasure and the sting of what he denied me moments ago.
“Are you mine, Estella?”
The tension coils again, pleasure detonating behind my ribs and down my legs. I twitch helplessly, trying to grind against the toy, or his hand, or anything that might close the distance.
The rope tightens around my wrists and ankles, biting into my skin, and I know the marks will be brutal in the morning. The thought flashes white-hot through my mind, sending a shiver so intense it drags a sound from my throat I didn’t even know I could make.
For the first time in my life, the world feels different—painted in vivid, violent colors. For the first time, someone has reached into the familiar hollow inside me and twisted it, transforming pain into something breathtaking.
Then, Dante pulls the toy away again. Every sensation vanishes in an instant, leaving me gasping, broken, clawing at empty air. A fractured cry tears out of me, and the bed creaks under my desperate writhing as I try to escape the ropes, but they hold me tight, digging deeper into my skin.
Lights burst behind my eyes, stars exploding across the darkness as a high-pitched ringing fills my ears. My bladder throbs, painfully full, pressure spiraling tight enough that it feels like I’m on the verge of completely losing control.
It isn’t natural. None of it. And I can’t understand how my body survives this kind of torture.
It feels as if I’ve been cast into the center of an ocean during a violent storm.
Enormous, monstrous waves rise out of nowhere and crash over me, swallowing me whole, dragging me down into the depths and holding me there long enough for hope to drain from my bones.
And then—just when darkness begins to creep into the edges of my vision—I jolt back to the surface, lungs opening on instinct, gulping down the fresh, salty, intoxicating air that hits so hard it gives me a headache.
I used to wonder what it felt like to stand on the brink of death. I thought I had brushed against it when I was younger, before the asylum, before the recruitment.
But this… this bears no resemblance to anything that came before.
This is fire—pure, ravenous wildfire tearing through me with such feverish intensity that it blinds me, numbs me, pushes me toward delirium.
And I’m drawn to it. Drawn to those flames and the death they hide within them. Fully aware I will be burned, yet understanding the burn’s agony will reward me with something indescribable and consuming.
“Yes,” I manage, breath catching on the word. I can feel his gaze mapping every inch of me, tracking each twitch, each tremor, each futile attempt to break free. He demands an answer, and I give him one. “I’m yours.”
A hush falls over us, broken only by my ragged breaths and the faint whimpers that snag in my throat.
I feel the sheen of sweat coating my skin, the strands of hair plastered to the sides of my face.
I feel my heartbeat thrumming wildly, and the tears slipping down my cheeks in glistening trails of desperation.
The world collapses around us, leaving only the flames that dance at the edges of my vision while we cross a boundary neither of us should touch.
And then he drags everything back into existence. His mouth crashes against mine, stealing what remains of my oxygen. His lips hit every sensitive place I never even knew existed, and the moment he does, I splinter into a thousand fragments.
I sink my teeth into his lower lip, clamping down hard. A rough, animal sound breaks from him, vibrating across my mouth. His free hand closes around my body, anchoring me as every muscle tightens and snaps like overstretched wire.
I bite harder, feel the warm rush of his blood bursting beneath my teeth, smearing and trailing down our chins.
Instinct takes over, and my hips move on their own—rocking, grinding against the toy or the hand replacing it, I can’t tell.
I only know I’m doing the one thing my body is capable of doing now.
I bite deeper, my husky moans spilling into his mouth while he holds me together. Heat races through my nerves, tingling and burning as the orgasm tears through me—ripping me apart, igniting every sense until I’m nothing but fire, breath, and a wreck of tremors.
My heart lurches wildly in my chest, pounding out an erratic, uneven rhythm. I keep riding the last trembling waves of sensation until my strength finally gives out and I collapse onto the mattress, sending a soft ripple through it.
His hand loosens from my waist, fingers drifting upward, searching for my face.
I can’t see anything—whether it’s the darkness of the room or the murkiness still clinging to my vision, I can’t tell—but I feel him brush the damp strands of hair away from my skin.
Something soft grazes my forehead, traces my temples, then glides down my cheeks, wiping away the sheen of sweat that clings to me.
It moves down my neck, and I sense him leaning in. A moment later, he begins untying me—my wrists first, then my legs.
Still, I don’t move.
I can’t.
Whatever he did to me tore my soul clean out of my body, and I have no idea if I’ll ever fully recover from it.
Both his hands come around me, lifting me as if I weigh nothing at all. My head spins as he carries me into another room. I try to focus, try to make sense of where we are, but everything is a blur.
Then he flicks his lighter, and a small flame comes alive—quivering, casting bronze glints across his features.
My blurred gaze follows him as he begins lighting the candles, one after another, sending tiny fires blooming around us.
When I inhale deeply, the scent of warm wax and faint, sweet caramel curls into my lungs.
He sets the lighter down on the sink with a soft click, and when I glance down, I catch my reflection wavering in the clean, glistening water. Slowly, he lowers me into the bathtub, letting my body sink into the warm steam rising in soft, curling tendrils.
The moment the heat wraps around my skin, a low groan escapes me. He adjusts me carefully, settling me so every inch of me is submerged in the soothing warmth.
I close my eyes, letting the back of my head rest against the warmed tile. I hear him moving around the room, gathering something, and then he takes my hand. Gentle circles begin to spiral across my skin as he massages it with a sponge—slow, delicate motions that unravel me.
I let myself drift, sinking into the quiet, into the tenderness of his touch that pulls fresh tears to my eyes. And somewhere in the hush of my thoughts, I hear his voice—soft and warm, like sweet honey sliding over the edges of my consciousness.
“And I’m yours.”