Beiträge ein Zeitgenössisch

My eyes are saucers in my head. My face a frozen mask of trepidation. My mouth hangs open in a silent scream, gaping like a fish out of water; the very thing he’s so clearly committed to demonstrate. My pupils dilate at the sight of the new object—yet another chain, adorned with clamps. My ears perk up at the sound of them clinking against the quiet. Without him even saying it, my entire body tenses as my back caves, my chest shrinking away from it instinctively. Frost reaches for something… Weiterlesen

Consciousness hits me like a big bag of bricks, bashing into my brittle body so that my limbs are suddenly heavy and unresponsive. Even as I comprehend, it’s hard to think straight. Frost’s cold eyes continue to stare, all the way into my brain matter, and I can see the calculation in his gaze, the way he’s assessing me. Like he’s capturing my reaction. Weighing my value. I can do little else but mimic as I watch him retrieve yet another item from his impeccably-organized, seemingly endless archive of tools:… Weiterlesen

Patent fear rolls down my spine. Like ice water. No, straight up ice. I can’t even swallow. Geese erupt across my flesh like an allergic reaction, hot spots abruptly forming beneath my skin. I can’t tell if it’s my body’s acute recollection of the previous crop’s parting gift or the anticipation of what’s to come with this new one. The one I feared the most. The image of the appropriately-named slapper crop sits in my direct line of view, displaying the crown from which it begets its cruel title. Oh… Weiterlesen

Frost’s mammoth wall shelf looms in the distance like a living creature in its den, so large it feels like it’s right next to me instead of tens of feet away. Frost himself stops in front of a column of shelves that stretches all the way to touch the ceiling, like an onlooking giant and his beanstalk. In ominous silence, I watch as he reaches inside one of the compartments, retrieving something. An object. My eyes dart to the label lining its resting place at the same time he draws… Weiterlesen

Mortification grips my neck with far more force and intensity than Frost had, fighting for and easily winning the top spot in the tournament of emotional warfare ensuing within me. My eyes close against the treacherous sound. Against the conflicting sensations his irritatingly sexy fingers evoke. Against the exhausting knowledge that my body refuses to side with its owner. It’s like they have a mind of their own, his fingers; separate beings in their own right, competent and confident in their execution of their owner’s will. They slide down the… Weiterlesen

Crazy. It honestly feels like just last week. I remember the way my windshield wipers would falter. How they would hesitate and stutter before finally making a weak pass over the glass. But unlike the wipers I needed—still need—to replace, Frost’s sure thumbs move with precision. Boldness. Creating heat with their strokes instead of clearing moistu— A sigh escapes me before I can stop it, the following inhale just as audible as I do my damnedest not to think about the gradual, growing collection between thighs that now hurt from… Weiterlesen

I’m lifting the glass to my lips when I hear the entrance open up again. The reemergence of footsteps sends a jolt through my body and almost sends liquid sputtering out of my mouth. I don’t turn back to confirm Frost’s presence. Don’t need to. Don’t want to. I wish I could block out the sound of his advancement, my heart jumping with each forward step he takes. Invisible insects crawl across my shoulder blades and down my arms, my limbs trembling, taut links of bundled-up tension. He comes to… Weiterlesen

Ein greifbarer Schauer überkommt mich, als mir ein weiteres Wortpaar in den Sinn kommt. Harte Grenze. Ein Ruck durchbohrt meine Eingeweide und meine Hände fallen auf den Tisch, als meine Finger das Glas loslassen, um meine Schenkel zu umklammern. Impulsiv lasse ich den Kopf sinken, meine Schultern zittern, während sie sich abmühen, meinen starren Körper zu stützen. Meine Eingeweide splittern fast, als ich das Schleifen von Frosts Stuhl über den Boden höre, mein Kopf zuckt hoch, um ihn zu treffen, der sich von ihm erhebt. Die Art, wie er mich überragt, ist fast komisch, aber da ist … Weiterlesen

Safe. Word. Two words. They fall on my ears like anvils, wringing my eyes back to his. I have none as air catches in my throat. The word ‘safe’ swings like a knife, slicing through my brain and the silence. I can’t think, can’t move, can’t breathe. All I can do is stare at him, willing my limbs to work, my lungs to fill with air.  The entire world narrows to just him; this blue-eyed demon watching me, cataloguing my every movement—or lack thereof—and my heart pitter-patters as I regard… Weiterlesen