As we enter the bedroom, the hunger that I’ve been restraining since yesterday intensifies, the monster inside me demanding his due. The distance I’m sensing from Nora only makes it worse. I can feel the barriers she’s trying to erect between us, the way she’s trying to shut me out of her thoughts, and it maddens me, feeding the sadistic yearning coiling within.

I am going to smash those barriers tonight. I am going to tear them down until she has no defenses left—until I own her mind fully again.

She excuses herself to go take a quick shower, and I let her, walking over to the bed to wait for her return. I am already semi-hard, my cock stirring in anticipation of what I’m going to do to her, and my pants are starting to feel uncomfortably tight. Hearing the water turn on, I undress, then reach into the bedside drawer and pull out an assortment of tools I plan to use on her tonight.

True to her word, Nora doesn’t take long. Five minutes, and she’s coming out of the bathroom, a plush white towel wrapped around her petite body. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her golden skin is damp, droplets of water still clinging to her neck and shoulders. She must’ve taken off the Band-Aids in order to shower, because I can see a tiny scab and some bruising on her arm where the tracker went in. The sight of it fills me with an odd mixture of emotions—relief that I can now always keep an eye on her and something that tastes strangely like regret.

Her gaze flicks toward the bed, and she stops dead in her tracks, her eyes widening as she takes in the objects I laid out.

I smile, enjoying the startled expression on her face. We haven’t played with toys in a while—at least not to this extent. “Drop the towel and get on the bed,” I command, getting up and reaching for the blindfold.

She looks up at me, her lips parted and her skin softly flushed, and I know that she’s excited by this too—that her needs now mirror mine. There’s only a hint of hesitation in her movements as she unwraps the towel and lets it fall to the floor, leaving her standing there fully naked.

As I feast my eyes on her slim, shapely body, my balls tighten and my heartbeat picks up. Rationally I know there must be women more beautiful than Nora out there, but if there are, I can’t think of any. From the top of her head down to her dainty toes, she fits my preferences to a tee. My body craves her with an intensity that seems to be growing stronger every day, with a desperation that almost consumes me.

She climbs onto the bed, getting into a kneeling position with her feet tucked underneath her tight, round ass. Her movements are fluid and graceful, like those of a sleek little cat.

Getting on my knees behind her, I move her hair off her shoulder and gently kiss her neck, enjoying the way her breathing changes in response. She smells like warm female skin and flower-scented body wash, a mixture that makes my head spin and my dick throb with need. Some nights this is all I want from her—the sweetness of her response, the feel of her in my arms. Some nights I want to treat her like the fragile, breakable creature she is.

Tonight, however, I want something different.

Pulling back, I tie the blindfold around her eyes, making sure she can’t see anything. I want her to focus solely on the sensations she’ll be experiencing, to feel everything as acutely as possible. Next, I pick up a pair of padded handcuffs and snap them around her wrists, securing her hands behind her back.

“Um, Julian . . .” Her tongue comes out to moisten her lower lip. “What are you going to do to me?”

I smile, the tiny hint of fear in her voice turning me on even more. “What do you think I’m going to do to you, my pet?”

“Flog me?” she guesses, her voice low and a bit husky. I can see her nipples growing taut as she speaks, and I know the idea is not exactly repellent to her.

“No, baby,” I murmur, reaching for one of the other items I have prepared—a pair of nipple clamps connected by a thin metal chain. “You’re not healed enough for that yet. I have other things in mind for you today.” And picking up the clamps, I wrap my arms around her from the back and pinch her left nipple between my fingers. Then I apply one of the clamps to the hard bud, tightening the screw until her breath hisses out between her teeth.

“How does it feel?” I ask softly, leaning down to kiss the top of her ear as I reach for her right nipple. Her bound hands, curled tightly into fists, press into my stomach, reminding me of her helplessness. “I want to hear you describe it . . .”

She draws in a shuddering breath, her chest heaving. “It hurts—” she begins to say, then cries out sharply as I apply the second clamp to her nipple and tighten it the same way.

“Good . . .” I lightly bite her earlobe. My erection brushes against her lower back, the contact sending vibrations of pleasure down to my balls. “And now?”

“It—it hurts even more . . .” Her words come out in a ragged whisper. Her back is tense against me, and I know that she’s telling the truth, that her sensitive nipples are likely in agony from the vicious bite of the toy. I’ve used nipple clamps on her before, on the island, but those were a gentler version, capable of applying only light pressure. These are much more hardcore, and I smile darkly as I imagine how much they’ll hurt when they come off.

Cupping the undersides of her breasts with my hands, I squeeze them lightly, molding the soft flesh with my fingers. “Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?” I murmur as she jerks in pain, the movement of my hands pulling on the chain between her nipples. “My poor baby, so sweet, yet so abused . . .”