Chapter 136 Mind Fucking

Chapter 136 Mind Fucking
Massimo’s fingers worked quickly but carefully behind her head, untying the blindfold. The silk slipped away, and Eloise blinked against the sudden light, her vision blurry with tears. 
Her gaze immediately dropped to his hand. He was holding a black credit card, smooth and ordinary.
Not the knife.
“I thought…” Her voice cracked, raw from screaming.
“You are still new to this, Cara,” Massimo said gently, his voice gentle and steady. “It’s okay for you to freak out.”
Somehow, his calm understanding only made her angrier. The vulnerability, the shame of how much she had enjoyed the terror, twisted painfully inside her chest.
“Please untie me,” she whispered, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Eloise,” he began, voice softening further, but he obeyed, releasing the cuffs from her wrists and ankles carefully. The moment her feet touched the floor, her legs buckled. Massimo caught her instantly, his strong arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her against his solid chest.
“Easy,” he murmured, holding her upright.
She tried to push away from him, but he held her firmly, not letting her escape. “Let me take care of you.”
Eloise looked down at herself — her skin marked with dried wax, streaks of her own release glistening on her thighs. The evidence of how violently her body had betrayed her. I must be sick for liking that. For wanting it. Shame burned hot in her throat.
“I can do it myself,” she insisted, her voice shaky.
Massimo’s arms tightened around her. “Please,” he begged, the rare desperation in his voice slicing through her defenses. “Let me, Cara. Please.”
She could see it in his eyes, the raw need to care for her, to fix what he had broken. With a trembling breath, she stopped fighting.
Massimo lifted her effortlessly into his arms, cradling her against his chest as if she were something precious and fragile. 
He carried her to the large, soft bed in the corner of the playroom and laid her down gently. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered.
He disappeared into the attached bathroom and returned moments later with a pail of warm water and several soft cloths. His black shirt stretched across his powerful shoulders and chest as he moved, the fabric slightly damp with sweat.
 His thick dark hair fell across his forehead, and when he leaned over her, the familiar scent of him tickled her nose.
He started with her chest, wiping away the remnants of wax with careful, reverent strokes. The warm cloth glided between her breasts, over her sensitive nipples, then down her stomach. 
He leaned in and kissed every welt left by the flogger, his lips feather-light against the reddened skin.
“I should have been more gentle,” he said quietly, regret thick in his voice.
Eloise watched him, seeing the genuine pain and self-loathing in his blue eyes. Her anger softened, just a little, under the tenderness of his touch. 
He moved lower, cleaning between her legs with careful, intimate strokes. The warm cloth soothed her swollen, sensitive flesh. To distract herself from how exposed and vulnerable she felt, she spoke.
“What was that thing you did with the credit card?”
“Mind fucking,” Massimo answered gently, his eyes never leaving hers as he continued cleaning her. 
“It’s when I play with your fear on purpose. Make you believe something dangerous is happening when it isn’t. It’s psychological edge play—pushing the mind as hard as the body. I wanted to see how deep you could go with me.”
Eloise swallowed. “You already used the knife earlier… so you made me think you were doing it again.”
Massimo’s blue eyes locked onto hers, intense and unflinching. “I love pushing you to your limits, Eloise. But I went too far this time.”
She looked down, cheeks burning. He had seen everything—how wet she had gotten, how hard she had come from the terror. Her anger had been nothing more than armor against that terrifying vulnerability.
“So what,” she said, meeting his gaze with defiance, “you have this much experience with it?”
Massimo’s jaw tightened for a moment, his walls rising instinctively. But then he exhaled slowly, a rueful smile touching his lips as he continued wiping her thighs with gentle care.
“I’ve done much darker things with others,” he admitted quietly. “With Regina… and the women before her. It was always about power. Release. Control. Nothing more."
He set the cloth aside and looked at her fully, his expression raw. “But with you… it’s different. I care. Too much. That’s what terrifies me.”