What an excruciatingly odd feeling, Carter thought to himself as he watched the tremors of orgasm overtake Demetria's body. With each new project, each new victim he had captured and subjected to unspeakable torment, he had found new ways of causing pain, and it had felt wonderful. With each cruelty he visited upon his victims, he had gotten one step closer to understanding the mechanisms of his own brain, one step closer to mapping out the mysterious terrain of his emotional landscape. Yet things were different with Demetria. She still felt the pain, it was obvious in her reaction, and yet somehow it seemed to mean something different to her. She felt it differently, and so did he. He looked down at the pale panting girl before him, and wondered …show more content…
He'd created a small scene when he arrived, and he'd been down here now for several minutes. If he let this go on any longer he would run the risk of yet another bystander wandering on to the scene, one less... pliant... than the frail form before him. Scooping the exhausted girl up into his arms, he carried her over to a slightly stained metal table, which he had bolted to the floor and modified to accommodate restraints. He normally used it for delicate work, when he needed his victim's stretched out like a canvas and unable to resist. Setting Demetria on the table, he secured her left ankle and right wrist in leather cuffs. He didn't bother with her other limbs, he didn't think she would resist him and was fairly certain he could overpower her anyway, but he didn't want her exploring his workshop unsupervised. "Stay here then, and wait for me. I'll return when I've finished cleaning up your mess." He felt an odd twinge in his gut as he walked away from her without so much as a backwards glance, but did his best to ignore …show more content…
How foolish of him. He had almost certainly caused a scene. Stepping outside, he closed the door and locked it, checking it quickly to ensure that Demetria hadn't damaged the locking mechanism when she picked it. It held fast. Good. He righted the trash can, and retrieved the lid from where it had rolled out onto the street, relieved that the garbage had been picked up earlier that morning and thus wasn't strewn all over his lawn. He looked around, to see if his sudden arrival had attracted any unwanted attention, but the cul-de-sac seemed quiet. It was still early in the afternoon, and most of these homes were owned by highly-paid office workers or small business owners. He was the only student with the means to live here. Climbing back into his car, he parked it in the garage, and re-entered his home via the internal