Chapter 10
Mason
She’s a fucking virgin!
I did not see this coming.
After all this research, all this careful planning, considering everything that could go wrong or interfere with my plan, I never expected this. Why didn’t I? It makes perfect sense for a girl like her. I couldn’t find a lot of information about her family, but what little I did find out made it pretty clear that she grew up sheltered and secluded from the world. She was never a troublemaker, not in the traditional sense—just a burden to an overchallenged father.
Grace, however, was a good girl, a very good girl. Bemused, dreamy, and reserved. Of course a girl like her would still be a virgin at 19 years old. She never let anyone in, either because she didn’t want to or because she couldn’t—so why would she engage in the most intimate act there is between two people?
And it means that I will be her first. I have to do this right.
And I will.
I check the time as I make my way up the stairs. It’s already late in the evening. They must have noticed her disappearance by now. I wonder when they will contact her family, or if they already did? Once this happens, things will get interesting, and dangerous. I should make the best of the time we have until then, undisturbed by any commotion from the outside.
I head straight for my bedroom and open the bottommost drawer of my dresser, fetching the Hitachi magic wand and some rope, before I return downstairs to the basement.
Her cheeks are flushed in a beautiful blend of shame and arousal when I get back to her. Little droplets of sweat are pearling at her temples, causing fine strand of hair to stick to her pretty face. Her eyes widen when she sees the toy in my hand, but I’m not sure whether it’s due to shock or recognition.
“Do you know what this is?” I ask, holding up the Hitachi wand.
She frowns at me. “Something to hurt me with?”
“Quite the contrary, but yes, it can be used very effectively for torment,” I let her know.
There’s a hint of fear in her expression when she looks at me now, eyes slanted and her lips slightly parted, while her chest heaves under nervous breaths.
“You deserve punishment, you know that,” I say, plugging the Hitachi in the only outlet of the room, right next to the bed. “But you’re lucky, because I’m in a merciful mood. You can still get out of this.”
She narrows her eyes. “Is that so?”
“I’m fair like that, yes.”
“And what would I have to do?” she implores, sounding impatient.
“It’s quite simple: Tell me about your scars,” I inform her, using the vibrator in my hand to point at the inside of her thighs.
Her eyes follow the motion, and the frown re-emerges.
“You’re really obsessed with those scars, aren’t you,” she murmurs. “It’s nothing. They’re old.”
I sit down on the mattress next to her. “How old?”
“I don’t know, months, some of them years,” she answers, speaking through gritted teeth, as if every word was painful to produce.
“Why did you stop?”
She looks visibly uncomfortable as her eyes dart back and forth between me and the Hitachi wand in my hand.
“You did this yourself, didn’t you?” I probe, trying to make her go on.
“Mhm,” she responds, her face tense and her lips pressed firmly together.
I clear my throat, before asking one of the most difficult questions to her.
“Why, Grace? Why did you hurt yourself?”
“It’s none of your business,” she shoots backs at me, the crease between her brows deepening. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. No one does.”
“Fine, you’re probably right, I can’t relate,” I admit. “But I will take a guess anyway, if you don’t mind.”
Curving her eyebrows, she regards me with a curious look, kissed with skepticism.
“I think you were trying to fill a void in your life, that no one and nothing else could fill,” I begin. “You’re lacking something, but you don’t know what. Maybe you’re feeling too little, or too much, or nothing at all—either way, it doesn’t feel right. Nothing ever does. You’re trapped in a vacuum, your senses muffled and your mind detached.”
She remains stoic as she listens to me, her face not revealing the faintest hint of a reaction.
“Am I right?” I ask. “Or at least getting close?”
She sighs. “Does it matter?”
“You want to feel,” I go on, ignoring her remark. “You want to feel more than others, deeper, stronger. Normal is not enough for you—you crave an extreme, which scares you.”
She averts her eyes and rests her head back on the mattress, focusing on the ceiling above her.
“But the cuts are never deep enough, are they?” I implore further. “And the jumps never high enough. You never found what you’re looking for-”
“Stop it,” she cuts me off. “I don’t like it when people tell me what I should think or feel.”
“I’m not saying that’s what you should feel,” I clarify. “This is simply an educated guess, based on what I know about you.”
She doesn’t move her head, but her eyes find me again, one eyebrow twitching as she casts me a bugged look.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” she whispers, the tone of her voice contradicting her words.
I shrug. “Well, then enlighten me. Why did you cut yourself? Why do enjoy putting yourself in danger by jumping from high cliffs?”
She shakes her head, her lips firmly pressed together, as they were before.
“Fine, don’t,” I sigh, as I turn around to place the Hitachi between her legs.
She tenses up, tearing on her restraints to no avail, while I use another piece of rope to secure the wand at her core, the large head firmly pressed against her exposed entrance.
“What are you d-”
Her question dies the moment I hit the power button, and the wand erupts in violent vibrations, hitting her most sensitive spot with full force.
And then I watch.