Page 160 of Ignite

Another contestant. Another challenge. That’s what I’m telling myself.

I don’t flinch anymore. I’ve trained myself not to. Told myself I built these tests for strength, not cruelty. But some nights…like this one…something creeps under my skin.

The girl is trembling as the guard leads her into Cabin Six’s sauna. Her arms are wrapped tight around her stomach like she’s trying to hold herself together. Soaked and shivering, her skin flushed red from the ice. She’s hugging herself, legs trembling beneath her as Reggie leads her toward the sauna door. She stumbles once. He catches her elbow, just long enough to keep her from falling. No tenderness. Just protocol.

I squint at the screen. Am I just looking for similarities? Trying to hurt myself?

He follows her in, lifting a thick leather collar from the wall and fastens it around her throat.

I flinch.

She doesn’t.

Her chin tilts up defiantly, and the collar clicks into place with a magnetic lock and snaps to a chain bolted to the wall. It allows just enough slack for her to sit down on the bench, but not enough to move freely.

She’s trapped.

Exposed.

My thumb hovers over the button.

The remote in my hand is small. A polished green that matches the toy.

Control Unit 6reads the screen, and the timer begins to count down from ten minutes. That’s all she has to do: climax within that time frame.

She shifts uncomfortably, tugging at the collar, then glances toward the glass window that separates the sauna from the rest of the cabin.

She can’t see the camera. But she knows.

She knows someone is watching.

My thumb hovers over the button.

Just procedure.

I press it.

The moment I press the button, her back arches.

It’s not violent. Not yet. A slow hum. Barely a pulse.

But it makes her squirm. Her thighs press together instinctively. Her eyes slam shut. I wish this feed was better quality in that lighting so I could see her eyes beneath the mask.

I start to feel it burning up inside of me, watching her already squirming under my control.

I don’t want to get hard for this. I hate that I am.

Because this isn’t sex. It’s not pleasure. It’s survival dressed in sadism. If Hallie could see this, she would hate me.

The timer on the wall starts ticking down from ten minutes.

The moisture in the sauna fogs the screen, but I don’t take my eyes off her. Every twitch. Every tremble. I see it all.

She shifts her hips. She’s already flushed from the ice bath, but now her skin is blooming pink for another reason.

Her head tips back against the wood behind her, and she lets out a low, shuddering breath.

The vibrator pulses.

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