27. Santa
Chapter 27
Santa
H er fatigued body lies limp against the padded bench I strapped her to, and I watch as she endeavors to look around my space. Her eyes widen dramatically as she glimpses all my whips, crops, floggers, and paddles against the wall. I have to bite my bottom lip to restrain my laughter. She doesn’t look excited to see all my favorite toys that I’ve prepared for us to enjoy over our Christmas holiday. A pained moan leaves her lips, and her face scrunches up in distress. I scramble further back on the bench, getting a good look at her swollen pussy and her ass, that’s dripping with my cum. I hunger for a taste of her, and I can’t stop myself from sliding off the bench to my knees, lifting my mask to my nose, and burying my mouth against her puckered hole. I lick and suck all of her juices, mixed with my cum, off of her asshole before plunging my tongue inside of her pussy. I can tell she’s sore, as she hisses at my intrusion and tries to flinch away from me. The rich taste of her pussy juices, my cum, and a hint of blood assaults my tastebuds. Fuck, I must have hurt her a little when I fisted her pussy. A part of me feels a sensation I’m unaccustomed to, and it makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Is that remorse that I’m feeling?
I pull back from her pussy, and watch as a lone crystal tear slides down her cheek, and disappears into her rich auburn hair. Is she crying because I hurt her, she’s scared, or due to the realization that she will die here, and never leave me? “You’re... a monster,” she gasps, her lips trembling as more tears pool against her hairline.
I don’t bother to respond and dispute her accusation, I am what she names me. Her petite body tries to twist on the bench, and it’s comical to watch as she attempts to contort herself, but ends up further exhausting herself and out of breath. Her legs squeeze closed, and I know she must be in pain, all of the adrenaline and euphoria having now faded. I tuck my spent cock away into my pants and leave the room, ensuring to lock the door behind me, as her swearing follows me from the space. She really does have a dirty potty mouth, and I’m going to have to cure her of that. I walk down the corridor to the door that leads to my bedroom. I move within the space without taking in any of the details until I reach my destination. For a moment, I grind to a halt; what the fuck am I doing right now? Am I about to run a bath for my captive?
The part of myself that I no longer recognize snarls back that she’s hurt and in pain, and reasons that we can’t continue to fuck her if she can’t take it. The part I do recognize counters that we shouldn’t care, that she’ll bleed a lot more before we’re done. I rip off the mask and stare at my features in the large mirror. The man who stares back at me is becoming a stranger, and I don’t like it one bit. Chrissy Cranbrook is changing me little by little, lessening the psychopath and making him feel. I don’t want the void inside of me filled by anything, especially not emotions that make me rethink my actions. I like myself unpredictable and unconquerable. Why is this one tiny, foul-mouthed woman changing me?
A frustrated growl leaves my lips, as I move towards the large copper bathtub I have in the space, turn on the water, and pour some bath salts inside of it. I’m not being weak or unreasonable; I argue with myself. I want to enjoy her for as long as possible, and although I relish listening to her screams, I would rather they be in pleasure rather than in pain, but at the end of the day, none of that will matter when I tire of her.
When the tub is nearly full, and the rich scent of lavender and eucalyptus fills the air, I re-don my mask and head back to my playroom to get her. At the door, I press my head against the wood surface and listen, as her heavy sobs make their way through the surface. Fuck, how bad could I have hurt her? Has she never been fisted before? Based on her porn history, I find that highly unlikely. I enter the room, and the sight causes my chest to tighten. She’s managed to twist her lower body on the bench until she’s on her side, and her knees are drawn up against her chest. Her arms are still outstretched above her and restrained in my leather cuffs, and her face is all red from the strain and her crying. Dammit all to hell.
I lean down and press my masked face against her hair, not really sure how to comfort her. “My sweet temptation, are you alright? What is causing you to cry like this?” My voice is gruff and accusatory through the mask, and she flinches and tries to make herself smaller. I move over to my wall and grab a pair of metal handcuffs from a hook, moving back and securing one wrist in its metal band, before releasing it from the leather cuff, and repeating it with her other wrist. She doesn’t even attempt to fight me; her arms go limp in my grasp, as she uses her fallen hair to hide herself from me. I push it away from her face, and stare into her dark brown eyes, filled with misery, before wrapping my arms around her and lifting her bridal style in my grasp. “Tell me, or I’ll punish you,” I demand as I move towards the door.
Her head leans against my shoulder as soft sobs wrack her body, and I tighten my grip on her delicate flesh. She feels right in my arms, as if this is where she has always belonged. The thought rips through me, and where fear should be present at such a vulnerable emotion, I only feel certainty. I press my masked nose against her hair, wishing I didn’t have anything between us. “I... I’ll never see Toothless again... he’ll think I abandoned... him. You... left my baby... without his momma... at Christmas.”
Toothless? Baby? What the fuck, she’s balling her eyes out over that slobbering beast? I release a frustrated groan against her hair, as I make my way through my bedroom and into my bathroom. All the while, more tears slide down her face, and her skin pebbles from the cool air. I force her to slide down my body until she’s on unsteady feet, and I hold her by her elbow. “Don’t try to fight me or escape, temptation. I don’t want to hurt you further today.” I release my hold and grab my blade from my pocket, slicing down the front of the wet shirt and cutting it off her body.
Her pink nipples stand at attention, causing my mouth to salivate with the need to lick and suck them. I’m just about to say fuck it, and to do just that, when she flinches and tightens her legs, bouncing a little on the spot. “What’s the matter with you?” I question, perplexed.
A flush of pink crosses her cheeks and neck, and a groan escapes her pouty lips. “I have to pee, asshole, and you have my arms tied up.” Pee? A chuckle sounds in the air, and I realize with shock that it’s coming from me. I grab her by the elbow and lead her to the toilet, forcing her to sit down against her mumbled protests. I stare intently at her, waiting for her to do her business, but instead, only silence greets me, and she bows her head, hiding her features from me. “I can’t go if you’re staring at me, creeper,” she hisses.
I roll my eyes and turn away, but still keep her in my sight through the reflection in the mirror. When she’s done peeing, I turn back around and grab some toilet paper, ready to clean her, and she starts screaming at me like a banshee. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! You’re not doing that to me! Oh my God, what is the matter with you!”
I lean down until I’m right in front of her, my amusement rising with her antics. “Little temptation, I just licked your ass clean not twenty minutes ago, you think a little pee is going to deter me?” I don’t wait for her outraged response. I grab her shoulder, forcing her to lean forward, and wipe her clean. “You’re an asshole!”
“If you don’t quit yelling, I’m going to shove my cock back inside of your asshole without lube, then we’ll see if you think wiping your pussy is the worst of my sins,” I grunt, as I lift her in my arms carefully and carry her to the bathtub, and place her inside. A cooing sound leaves her lips as she leans against the copper surface, and sinks below the water, until only her face is exposed. My eyes take her in, as she closes her eyes and relaxes in the hot water, even though a predator stands next to her.
“Will you ever let me go?” she asks in a small voice, her eyes remaining shut and refusing to look at me. A part of me wants to lie to her, leading her to believe that there is a possibility she will get her life back. I want her to fight, thinking she can survive me, but I also don’t want to give her false hope. “You will never leave me, not alive, temptation. Whatever world you knew before me is gone to you now.”
She nods her head but remains silent, and a pang of pain hits me in my chest as I watch more of her tears slide down her intriguing face, and disappear into the water. Something about her silent acceptance doesn’t make me feel like I’ve won anything. Instead, all I experience is a great loss. How can that be when I have my temptation here as my captive, and she’s mine now? I have no answers, and as the silence thickens between us, for the first time in my life, I discern that I have truly wronged someone.