CONTENT WARNING
This book contains mature themes and graphic content that may be disturbing to some readers. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Please prioritize your mental health and well-being.
If these themes may trigger trauma or cause distress, we encourage you to consider whether this book is right for you at this time.
Read more: Disciplinary Diary (anthology of BDSM theme) in KDPChapter 1
The tripod stood in the corner. Its red light blinked like a slow, heavy pulse. Erik adjusted the lens. He wanted to see every inch of Reece’s shaking frame. He watched the sweat bead on Reece’s collarbone before it ran down his chest.
"Smile for the camera, Reece," Erik whispered. His voice was rough. "This is for Mia. A souvenir of the moment her prince finally paid his taxes."
Erik picked up the cattle prod. A blue spark hissed between the tips. Reece’s eyes went wide. He didn't look scared. He looked hungry.
His gaze locked onto Erik with a heat that made the basement feel like a furnace. He stopped struggling. He went still and offered himself up.
Erik pressed the metal tip against Reece’s damp ribs.
Fifty thousand volts burned through Reece’s body.
"MMMMGGHHH!" A deep, primal scream broke out behind the tape. Reece’s muscles snapped tight. His back arched off the chair in a violent curve. His head snapped back, showing the straining tendons of his neck.
Erik waited for the satisfaction of revenge. It never came. Instead, a heavy throb hit his own veins. Watching Reece break triggered something dark. Erik’s breath caught. This wasn't justice. It was a sense of ownership.
He pulled the prod away. He leaned in close. Their lips almost touched through the tape. "Does that hurt, Reece? Or is it the only real thing you've felt in years?"
Reece slumped forward. He was gasping.
"Hhhh... hnnn..." His chest heaved against Erik’s vest. Sweat made his skin look like polished glass. He looked up through wet lashes. The terror was gone. His eyes were dark and devoted.
Reece leaned his forehead against Erik’s shoulder. It was a slow surrender. He wasn't looking at a captor. He was looking at a god. He looked at Erik as if this brutal touch was the first time he had truly been handled.
Erik felt his hands shake. He hated Reece. He wanted to ruin him. But Reece’s heat was like a drug. The hunter was being caught by the prey.
The basement was freezing, but Erik was burning up. He gripped the cattle prod. The blue spark hissed. He didn't aim for the ribs this time. He dragged the cold metal slowly down the skin of Reece’s inner thigh.
"MRGHHH! MRG-HHH!" Reece’s body hit a new peak of pain. His spine snapped straight. A muffled wail tore through the tape. His thigh muscles jumped under the current. Erik watched Reece’s throat work as he swallowed the screams.
Erik felt a sharp ache in his own body. His heart hammered. He was starving for more. Seeing this golden boy reduced to a shaking mess was better than any high. Erik’s breathing became jagged. He leaned in and smelled the ozone and Reece’s desperate sweat.
Then Reece did something impossible.
As the electricity died, he didn't pull away. He leaned into the sting. He tilted his head back and offered his throat to the camera. His pupils were wide. He looked at Erik with pure worship. It wasn't a plea for mercy. It was an invitation.
Reece began to rock the chair. He wasn't trying to escape. He was rubbing his bound wrists together. His eyes were fixed on Erik with a wet heat. Even through the tape, he looked like he was praying. He was enjoying the cruelty.
Erik grabbed Reece’s jaw with a gloved hand. He squeezed until Reece’s lips parted behind the tape.
"You like this, don't you?" Erik whispered. His voice was thick. "You sick piece of trash. You want me to break you."
"Mmm-hmmm..." Reece let out a low hum. He closed his eyes. He nuzzled his face into Erik’s palm like a cat.
Erik looked at the red light. He was supposed to be the hero. He was the brother seeking justice. But he knew he would never show this to his sister. This was his private toy now.
"Shit," Erik hissed. His pulse was a roar.
He didn't pull away. He let his hand slide down Reece’s wet chest. He trailed his fingers over Reece's skin. Every time he touched him, Reece’s body bucked. He circled the skin around his nipples.
"Mmmph... mgh..." He was seeking the contact. It was a silent taunt.
Erik reached for his kit. He pulled out three heavy steel clamps. He snapped two onto each Reece’s nipples. He clamped the third firmly onto tip skin of Reece’s manhood.
Strange, he didn't flinch.
He let out a long, low moan. It was muffled by the tape but heavy with twisted pleasure. He slumped forward. His hot breath soaked through Erik’s shirt. He was not look like a victim. He was more like a follower at an altar.
Erik’s jaw tightened. "You think this is a game, huh ?"
He kicked the chair legs out. Reece dropped. He was suspended by his wrists from a hook in the ceiling. His toes barely touched the floor. A bar forced his legs wide. He was completely exposed.
