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withdrawal. You’re in ecstasy. Do it now, or I swear I’ll kill you.”
    She pushed him away. “Don’t threaten me.” She opened his special black box. She was naked, had a curvy body, shapely legs, tight ass. Things he would have appreciated before. Things he would have enjoyed before.
    Now he only craved one thing.
    She turned toward him, the leather pouch in her hand. “Lie down.”
    He obeyed and lay on the hard floor. She took two needles from his kit. He quivered. She straddled him and sank his dick deep inside her. She shuddered. “I hate this.”
    She was a liar.
    He could barely speak, but the words had to be said.
    “You hate that you enjoy it.”
    She held the two needles in front of him. Taunted him. He moaned. “Please. Please please please.”
    She moved and gyrated on top of him, sending him into agony not from sex, but from the inability to release. But it was always about her. Her, her, her, her . . .
    . . . she found the nerve on the side of his neck and put in one needle. The pain surged through his body as his nerves reacted to the invasion. He’d taught her well.
    “Kill me,” he moaned. “God, kill me.”
    She then inserted the second needle high on his inner thigh and he screamed, tears streaming from his eyes, sweat pouring off his body as his hips moved violently. The first time they’d done this, he’d bucked her off him, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t about her pleasure, it was about his pain. Now she anticipated it. Enjoyed it. Craved his agony so she could get off.
    He exploded within her, the pain giving him the release he needed. He whimpered with humiliation and pulled out the needles himself. The pain subsided. A lesser man would be disabled for several minutes, but he’d had practice.
    He flipped her over, holding her down by her neck.
    “Don’t make me wait again.”
    “I’m s-s—” she began.
    He glared at her and for the first time saw that small glimmer of fear in the back of her eyes. He smiled, giddy, excited. She did fear him. She damn well should. He could kill her.
    No no no! Ethan couldn’t kill Karin. He needed her. What would he do without her? He couldn’t survive. He wouldn’t be able to finish their plans. He kissed her lips. Her neck.
    “I need you.” He started crying and hated himself for it.
    “Don’t, baby. Don’t cry. I’ll take care of you.”
    “Are you mocking me?” he asked.
    “No, of course not!”
    He didn’t believe her. “Don’t move.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    He took one of the needles that had been in his body, and without hesitation, inserted it just under her nipple. The pain that crossed her face delighted him. He could see why she became so excited watching the others suffer.
    She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t think. He counted off the seconds. One. Two. Three.
    Ten seconds would feel like hours. He knew. He’d been there. He’d been through far worse. If only she knew. If only she’d been there. To watch. Would she have gotten all hot and horny watching him suffer? Hearing him scream? Would she fuck the man with the black gloves as Ethan froze in pain?
    Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Whoops. Too long.
    He pulled out the needle. She rolled over and threw up on the wood floor.
    “Bas-bastard.”
    He stood, happy. Odd feeling, but there it was. Birds singing and a zip-a-dee-do-dah day. He laughed and dressed. “I’m hungry,” he said. “I’ll make dinner, okay? Your favorite.”
    Karin watched Ethan as he walked to the kitchen, whistling. Jekyll and Hyde. Bastard. She’d shoot him in the back for what he’d done to her if she didn’t need him to finish teaching her the tools of his trade. She had watched him and had learned, but there was nothing like doing it herself. And he didn’t let her do it often. When she pushed too hard, he clammed up and it was almost impossible to get him to open up again.
    He was a fucking lunatic. But she’d forgotten that Ethan, though probably certifiably insane, was