“I die a little more, still in silence, paralysed by you, in fear, in pain.”

“Now now Ellindt, you know I love it when you beg.” Chuckling silently, every jolt from my hold causes her hands pulsating pain, and I bend to speak intimately into her ear again, “But I love it more when you scream.”

“Aye,” he smiles, joy igniting in his stormy gray eyes, stroking my hand possessively as if unwilling to let me go for fear I am nothing more than a hallucination about to wear off.”

“Fear only has power when I cower under the illusion.”

“You can only push me so far little slakax, and then I will do what has to be done, with or without your permission.”

“Lifting, smiling back at her giggle, her relief, I tease, “If you want to bleed sweetheart, I can make you bleed. I promise if I do it will be way more fun.”

“Do not feed fear. Starve it.”