Page 85 of Lost to the Woods

She screams in shock. The sound is sharp, high-pitched, and so fucking sweet it makes my cock throb inside my jeans. Her body thrashes against the bindings, muscles tightening, trying to escape the heat. But there’s no escape. She’s stretched open and entirely at my mercy. Where she belongs.

Her chest heaves with panicked, stuttered breaths. The wax cools almost instantly, hardening against her skin, but the damage is done. I know a small, angry-red mark blossoms beneath it.

I exhale sharply through my nose, grip tightening around the candle. I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.

But she’s made me like this. Made me cruel.

I lift the candle again, the flame flickering violently as I tip it toward her chest. The drip lands on her breastbone, and she cries out, head tilting back, exposing the pale, vulnerable curve of her throat.

Another drip.

Then another.

Slow and precise, I let the wax fall in a perfect line between her breasts, watching the way it pools, the way her chest rises and falls so frantically. The wax cools against her skin, leaving behind angry little blotches, stark against her pale flesh.

“Such a pretty little thing,” I murmur, dragging my gloved fingers through the cooling wax, breaking the hardened pieces apart into small pieces, watching them fall away from her skin. Underneath, she’s so pink. So raw and warm. So mine.

My cock strains painfully against the denim fabric, sticky with precum. God, what is she doing to me…

I pinch her nipple between my fingers, rolling the stiffened peak. “So sensitive, too. I barely did anything, and you’re already shaking.” I tilt the candle one more, and this time, I pour a cascade of hot wax directly over her bare breasts.

Her adorable scream is muffled by the way her head snaps back, every muscle tensing, legs straining against the leather straps binding her apart. The wax splashes over her nipples, and fuck, the way they tighten so beautifully under the punishment, her body convulsing under the mix of pain and pleasure, her whimpers hitting some primal part of me—it ruins me.

“Are you crying because it hurts… or because you like it?” My voice is hoarse, dark, curling with amusement.

She gasps instead of answering, sucking in quick, panicked breaths through her nose.

I grip her chin between my fingers and force her to look at me. Her lips part, gasping. Those big, terrified eyes stare right into the dark slits of my mask. She shudders but doesn’t answer.

I drag my thumb over her cheek, smearing the tears there, then lower it to her swollen, trembling bottom lip. My thumb presses in.

“Open.”

She resists for a second—just a second—but I push harder, and her lips part with a choked gasp. I slide my thumb over her tongue, pressing down, feeling her wet heat wrap around the leather of my glove. And I have to choke down a moan.

“Good girl.” My voice is rough, uneven.

Her teeth clench. She hates that praise, and it only makes me smile under my mask. I pull my hand back, trailing saliva over her chin, and suddenly—I slap her. Not hard enough to cause her pain. Just enough to make her jump. Just enough to remind her who she belongs to now.

I bring the candle in my other hand closer to her face. She sucks in a sharp, broken breath, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

I cup her throat, thumb pressing gently over her pulse, feeling it race. She’s so alive.So fucking aroused in all her fear.

“Answer me, you little slut. Did you like it?”

She hesitates—just a flicker of resistance, but I see it. Feel it in the way her breath catches, in the way the adrenaline rushes through her veins, her body arching to get closer.

My grip on her throat tightens, and her lips part in a silent moan, “Yes.”

She’s so fucked up. Perhaps even more than I am.

But my cock aches to be buried inside her cunt.

“Good.” I let go of her throat, but I don’t let her breathe. Not yet.

The wax coats her nipple, the hardened little pink bud disappearing under the molten heat. She screams and her body convulses, every muscle contracting as she fights the overwhelming sensations. God, it’s beautiful.

“You love it,” I whisper.

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