Page 60 of Cold Bastard
I pushed off the door and walked toward her slowly, deliberately, giving her time to see me coming. Giving her time to understand that there was nowhere to go.
“This,” I said, gesturing to the surrounding room, “is where you are going to spend the next seventy-two hours.”
She swallowed hard, her throat working. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” I stopped a few feet away from her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off my body, but not close enough to touch. Not yet. “But you are still here. And you are still mine.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” I cut her off, my voice dropping to a growl. “The second you opened your eyes and watched me come all over you, you became mine. The second you didn’t scream, didn’t fight, didn’t do a goddamn thing to stop me, you gave yourself to me.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.” I leaned in, my face inches from hers. “And now I’m going to show you exactly what that means.”
She tried to press herself further into the wall, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
“Do you know what a sadist needs, Alexandra?” I asked, my voice soft now, almost conversational. “Do you know what drives us? What we crave?”
She didn’t answer. Just stared at me with those wide, terrified eyes.
“Control,” I said. “Absolute, unquestionable control. Not just over your body. Over your mind. Over your will. Over every single thought that crosses through your head.”
I reached out and traced a finger down her cheek, feeling her flinch under my touch.
“I’m going to break you,” I continued, my voice steady and clinical. “Not all at once. That would be too easy. Too quick. No, I’m going to take my time. I’m going to peel away every layer of resistance, every defense mechanism, every lie you’ve told yourself about who you are and what you want.”
Her breathing was coming faster now, shallow and panicked.
“I’m going to start with your body,” I said, my finger trailing down her neck, over her collarbone, stopping just above the swell of her breast. “I’m going to tie you to my bed. Wrists and ankles secured to the posts. Spread wide. Vulnerable. And then I’m going to touch you. Everywhere. Every inch of skin. Every sensitive spot. I’m going to learn your body better than you know it yourself.”
She whimpered, a soft, broken sound that sent a surge of satisfaction through me.
“And while I’m touching you,” I continued, “I’m going to hurt you. Not enough to cause real damage. Just enough to make you understand that pain and pleasure aren’t separate things.They’re two sides of the same coin. And I’m going to flip that coin over and over until you can’t tell the difference anymore.”
I moved my hand lower, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her tank top. She gasped, and her body jerked away from my touch, but the wall behind her kept her trapped.
“I’m going to use my hands first,” I said, squeezing gently, feeling her nipple harden under my palm. “I’m going to pinch and twist and pull until you’re begging me to stop. And then I’m going to keep going. Because your begging doesn’t mean anything to me. Not yet.”
I released her breast and stepped back, giving her a moment to breathe.
“After my hands, I’ll move on to the implements.” I gestured to the wall behind her. “That flogger? I’m going to use it on your back, your ass, your thighs. The falls will kiss your skin, leaving red marks that will fade in a few hours. But you’ll feel them. You’ll feel every single strike.”
She was trembling now, her whole body shaking.
“The cane is next,” I said, my voice still calm, still clinical. “It’s going to hurt more than the flogger. A lot more. It’ll leave welts that will last for days. And every time you sit down, every time you move, you’ll remember me. You’ll remember this room. You’ll remember what I did to you.”
I walked over to the wall and picked up the rattan cane, running my fingers along its length.
“I’m going to strike you here,” I said, tapping the cane against my own thigh. “And here.” I moved it to my hip. “And here.” I brought it up to my ribs. “I’m going to map out your body with pain. I’m going to teach you that every part of you belongs to me.”
I set the cane back on the rack and turned to face her.
“But pain is only half of it,” I continued. “The other half is pleasure. And that’s where things get really interesting.”
She was crying now, as silent tears streamed down her face.
“I’m going to make you come, Alexandra,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Over and over again. I’m going to use my fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’m going to bring you to the edge and hold you there until you’re sobbing and begging and completely out of your mind.”
