Seize me From Darkness (Pierced Hearts Book 4) by Cari Silverwood Page A
Authors: Cari Silverwood
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Pieter.”
After a heavy pause, my friendly guard, lazing by the door, heaved himself upright and slid a knife across the floor to me. I picked it up by the brown handle and rotated it. Light curled across the steel.
Lekker . Very nice. Pity I couldn’t stick it in Gregor.
“And Pieter, no excessive chatting to her this time. The mic registers it. We will know.”
No talking? Shit.
The edge of the knife was well honed. The guard tensed when I stared his way, but there was no point in angering him. I turned to Jazmine, walked a slow circle around her, while she vaguely followed the sound of my path by tilting her head.
They wanted me to cut off her clothes? She knew I had to be rough. I should do it properly.
Her dress was thin and soft and my grasp of the hem made it ride up the back of her thighs. I gathered it some more until I pulled her off balance and she gasped and staggered into me. The knife carved through the fistful of cloth. Casually, I tossed the weapon in the direction of the guard before I tore the top of each sleeve. The dress slipped to the floor.
Naked and, damn , that ivory-white expanse of female skin. No bikini tan lines. I sucked in a long breath. Pervert that I was, I couldn’t help looking.
With her head covered, she appeared more of an object, a thing , than my wife had ever been in our S and m scenes. But what a cute thing. The slope of her spine as it curved into her waist, the tease of her glossy hair across the small of her back, the tremble of her hip when I rested my hand there and pulled her to me, her ass to my groin.
I held her tight er, fingers digging in. So soft. My fingers dug in more, as if they were obeying another, deeper call, until she squirmed the smallest amount...and whimpered.
“I’m going to show you the other side of pain, bokkie .”
I recognized the familiar zing of an ticipation. Inflicting pain on women did things to me. Before had been different. This time, I had consent, of sorts. She knew what I did. Why.
I neede d to allow myself to enjoy the sadism. It gave me a hyperawareness I’d never get if I stayed distant and gritted my teeth. I had to devote myself. All amped up, I was a gourmet and expert sadist, I could taste the pain with my eyes, my hands...maybe my tongue.
Ja , she was a meal laid out before me. I circled her, twitchy to get going, to see what toys they had.
This was bad.
Be guilty after.
I had to zone in , see every reaction, every flinch, every blanch of skin and trickle of blood from the strikes. And there would be blood.
I’d realized last night that blood was the only way I’d be likely to convince Gregor and co that I’d done it properly. I hadn’t told her that. It seemed wiser and kinder not to.
Zone in.
Just me. Just you.
This was a woman I’d have jumped at the chance to scene with, if she’d ever asked me in Cape Town, when I was young and free and, yes, stupid. Getting my brother killed had proved my stupidity.
I sniffed. Zone in.
I must be Master here and dance on the precipice. Pain. Pleasure. Starting now, my little captive. That thought sneaked in and I let it pass. For this to work, she had to be mine in these scenes. Not theirs. Mine.
There was no safeword. No hiding. She was my woman to do with as I wished. My balls tightened.
Such a heady situation, enough to spin me off into space if I wasn’t careful.
I’d long ago learnt to disassociate from the violence of what I did for a living. It acted as a buffer though some things still got through. I’d talked to a doctor and it was the same for him and the suffering and death he saw from day to day. Either you took that mental step back, or the stress would pull you apart. I could do this, though it was weird because I also had to keep my emotions engaged as a sadist.
Jazmine had no training, no buffer. She was an innocent. I had to keep that in mind.
I stepped away.
The jacket was uncomfortably tight. I took it off and tossed it aside, rolled up the
After a heavy pause, my friendly guard, lazing by the door, heaved himself upright and slid a knife across the floor to me. I picked it up by the brown handle and rotated it. Light curled across the steel.
Lekker . Very nice. Pity I couldn’t stick it in Gregor.
“And Pieter, no excessive chatting to her this time. The mic registers it. We will know.”
No talking? Shit.
The edge of the knife was well honed. The guard tensed when I stared his way, but there was no point in angering him. I turned to Jazmine, walked a slow circle around her, while she vaguely followed the sound of my path by tilting her head.
They wanted me to cut off her clothes? She knew I had to be rough. I should do it properly.
Her dress was thin and soft and my grasp of the hem made it ride up the back of her thighs. I gathered it some more until I pulled her off balance and she gasped and staggered into me. The knife carved through the fistful of cloth. Casually, I tossed the weapon in the direction of the guard before I tore the top of each sleeve. The dress slipped to the floor.
Naked and, damn , that ivory-white expanse of female skin. No bikini tan lines. I sucked in a long breath. Pervert that I was, I couldn’t help looking.
With her head covered, she appeared more of an object, a thing , than my wife had ever been in our S and m scenes. But what a cute thing. The slope of her spine as it curved into her waist, the tease of her glossy hair across the small of her back, the tremble of her hip when I rested my hand there and pulled her to me, her ass to my groin.
I held her tight er, fingers digging in. So soft. My fingers dug in more, as if they were obeying another, deeper call, until she squirmed the smallest amount...and whimpered.
“I’m going to show you the other side of pain, bokkie .”
I recognized the familiar zing of an ticipation. Inflicting pain on women did things to me. Before had been different. This time, I had consent, of sorts. She knew what I did. Why.
I neede d to allow myself to enjoy the sadism. It gave me a hyperawareness I’d never get if I stayed distant and gritted my teeth. I had to devote myself. All amped up, I was a gourmet and expert sadist, I could taste the pain with my eyes, my hands...maybe my tongue.
Ja , she was a meal laid out before me. I circled her, twitchy to get going, to see what toys they had.
This was bad.
Be guilty after.
I had to zone in , see every reaction, every flinch, every blanch of skin and trickle of blood from the strikes. And there would be blood.
I’d realized last night that blood was the only way I’d be likely to convince Gregor and co that I’d done it properly. I hadn’t told her that. It seemed wiser and kinder not to.
Zone in.
Just me. Just you.
This was a woman I’d have jumped at the chance to scene with, if she’d ever asked me in Cape Town, when I was young and free and, yes, stupid. Getting my brother killed had proved my stupidity.
I sniffed. Zone in.
I must be Master here and dance on the precipice. Pain. Pleasure. Starting now, my little captive. That thought sneaked in and I let it pass. For this to work, she had to be mine in these scenes. Not theirs. Mine.
There was no safeword. No hiding. She was my woman to do with as I wished. My balls tightened.
Such a heady situation, enough to spin me off into space if I wasn’t careful.
I’d long ago learnt to disassociate from the violence of what I did for a living. It acted as a buffer though some things still got through. I’d talked to a doctor and it was the same for him and the suffering and death he saw from day to day. Either you took that mental step back, or the stress would pull you apart. I could do this, though it was weird because I also had to keep my emotions engaged as a sadist.
Jazmine had no training, no buffer. She was an innocent. I had to keep that in mind.
I stepped away.
The jacket was uncomfortably tight. I took it off and tossed it aside, rolled up the
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