Page 71 of Goldsin

His dick is as hard as stone.Fucking psycho.

You are dripping-wet, the voice in my head says.He could bend you down and slide his dick right in, it slurs.You aren’t so different from him.

I nearly lose the strength in my legs.

He must know, because he tightens his arm, preventing me from falling to my knees in front of him. I know the sadistic bastard would love nothing more.

As if reading my thoughts he says, “We’re both fucked in the head. We have the same affliction. We’re hooked on pain.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, bracing myself for the inevitable burn.

But instead all I smell is burning skin. No pain.

I snap my eyes open and gasp at what I see.

Julian is pressing the heated flat iron against hislower abdomen. His expression is blank through it all, gaze locked with mine as if daringmeto react to his pain.

I twist to my right, hand reaching for the burning iron. “Julian, stop!”

I’m inches away from reaching it when he pulls it away. A faint hiss, more delight than pain, is all that comes out of him.

“Who is Master? Why were you holding onto that page at Victoria’s cabin? Why did you kill DeMarco?” he asks me again, his tone unwavering, unaffected by the red patch of raw skin on his stomach.

Wh-what just happened?

I stare at him, wide-eyed.

Words evade me.

Did he just ...? Why would he do that to himself?

One second.

Two.

At my lack of an answer, he lowers the flat iron to sear the flesh of his right pec. The skin sizzles as my stomach flips.And his lips twitch.In sick pleasure.

That’s when it hits me. The realization he is so far gone. So out of his awful mind.

He deserves it, and yet ... I can’t stand to see him hurt himself. Even if he enjoys it. Because there must be something far worse going on with him if he does.

It’s my weakness.Heis my weakness.

“Please stop!” I scream, the force scratching at my throat, eyes welling up.

At the sound of my voice he hesitates, then he pulls the flat iron away. Even with the rawness of my expression he watches me expectantly. Waiting.

I know this is it. Even if I make it out of here without spilling my secret to him, he’ll find another opportunity to do far worse.

Maybe this is the day I die.

It would feel better to die than to live with the failure of disgracing my mother’s memory.

His hand moves higher, until it’s just a breath away from his neck.

“Okay!” I grab his arm. “I’ll talk.”

“Good fucking girl.” His voice is hoarse.

---