Under his fingers, my body hummed.
Still looking deep into my eyes, Rien slid his hand back down under my panties. I sucked in air and didn’t scream as his fingers moved alongside my entrance, his hot needful fingertips probing, stroking, caressing my folds. My heart pounded in my ears, thrumming like music.
“Rien…”
He said nothing, only leaned forward. His lips were inches from mine. His eyes fixed mine, and I thought again of the rabbits in that book. How, when they had come face to face with a predator, they froze and could not move. Even if I had not been sedated, I don’t think I could have moved an inch.
Again his fingers slid into me, thick and slow. I gasped as he filled me, stretching my opening slowly, slowly, so slowly that my eyes burned with tears of frustration.
“Rien.”
His lips moved slightly, but I could not make out his words. His fingers slid out, then back again, again slowly. I moaned. Forgotten were all of my promises to myself. I could not keep myself from wanting this, no, not when his fingers stretched me and tortured me with the thought of ecstasy just over the edge. I would fall, he would make me fall. My body ached to arch against his fingers, but I had no control over any muscles down there and I had to wait.
Wait for him.
“Please, Rien,” I murmured, staring up into his eyes. I could not read his face; he was hidden from me. His fingers slid in and out faster, though, and I cried out loud as his thumb grazed my swollen, aching clit.
“Yes.” I said. I could feel the end coming. I felt my body rising up inside as his rhythm matched exactly what I would have chosen, had I been able to move. His fingers thrust into me over and over, his thumb brushing me again and sending another gasp shuddering through my body. I was close. So close.
The light in the room seemed to flicker and dim, but that was only my eyelashes fluttering as I felt the pressure inside of me build and come to a head.
“Harder,” I whispered, “harder, oh please, harder,” and clenched my eyes shut, waiting for my release.
Then his fingers slid out and he was gone.
Gone?
My body ached for fingers that no longer touched me. I opened my eyes, my breath ragged in my throat, staring up at him in disbelief. My body clenched, clenched at nothing. He was gone, and I felt utterly hollow. His face was implacable, totally unreadable. He didn’t frown, or scowl.
“Rien,” I gasped. “Please don’t… don’t stop…”
He smiled as he leaned back, away from me, and raised his hand between us. His fingers glistened in the light. As I watched, he licked my juices off of his hand, one finger at a time.
I moaned. My body was wracked with a need that overpowered all rational thought.
“That’s enough playtime for now. You’re an excellent actress, Sara. I almost believed you there, at the end.”
Anger flooded me. I hated him for bringing me here. I hated him for the pain and the pleasure, for offering me release and tearing it away at the last moment. Most of all, I hated him for not believing me.
“You can’t…” I whimpered, hating too the sound of my own voice, whiny and clinging. “Please. You can’t stop. I’m so close.”
“You’re not close to anything,” Rien said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re still holding on to whatever ideas you had of me before. You’re not here. You’re somewhere else.”
“I’m not,” I cried angrily. “I swear…”
“Next time,” he said, standing up, “I want you to keep your eyes open. The whole time. You understand? Or I’ll never take you any further.”
He put his hands in his pockets and stood there casually, waiting for my reply. My whole body, every cell, clamored for touch, and now he was pulling away. Taunting me. Teasing me. Making me want something and then taking it away. I hated him for it.
“Fuck you,” I hissed.
He smiled then. I hated him even more for smiling because he was so beautiful when he smiled. A beautiful face that hid a monster behind it.
“I like you, Sara,” he said, his smile twinkling in his eyes. “I think we’ll have a lot of fun together. You won’t have very much fun right now, I suppose. You probably won’t be able to move for another hour.”
A cry choked in my throat. An hour? I had to wait an hour before I could move. An hour before I could touch myself and get rid of this awful ache. It seemed impossible.
“Or I could bring you around sooner and strap you back down on the operating table in the other room. I’m heading there now, actually. If you’d like to join Mr. Steadhill and see what real torture is, I’m sure I could arrange it.”