Maybe if she was frightened enough, she wouldn’t give him any more trouble. She’d be good and compliant.

As he swung his flashlight’s beam across the cracked floor, he found her cowering in a corner, looking scared enough to piss herself.

Perfect!

The room was as he’d left it, but the disarray and blood, the untidiness of it all bothered him. He, himself, was neat. Precise. Even though this underground room was just a work space and a prison, he kept it well-ordered. But now he didn’t like the broken light giving off its weird illumination, or the way his work had been strewn over the workbench in his struggles to dislodge Zoe as she’d attacked him.

No, the prison wasn’t right. Wouldn’t do.

Frowning, he glanced at Chloe in the corner. She’d been staring at him, he’d felt it, but now she shrank away, tried in vain to cover her body and avoid eye contact.

Weakling.

At least she wouldn’t give him any trouble, he decided, as he slowly removed his clothes, hanging his jeans and shirt on hooks in the wall, stripping bare before putting on his apron. It unnerved her to see him naked, to be without any shred of clothing herself in his presence. He sensed it, but that was a good thing. For him. Realizing that she was on edge was comforting. Calming. He’d let her watch him work, see that he was righting the small room, creating the perfect space for his ritual.

Taking care, he refolded Chloe’s clothes and felt a tightening in his gut as he did the same with her sister’s. The short dresses were so soft, a clingy material that felt like satin in his fingers. He couldn’t help but fantasize when he considered the smooth fabric stretched over their bodies, molding as it had to their skin. His cock twitched a bit as he imagined how the silken material stretched over their breasts, how it would feel to his touch, a bit of resistance between his palms and their nipples. He stole a glance at Chloe, at her boobs, so white, with blue veins visible and tiny, hard nipples that looked like buttons. Sexy buttons. A tingle invaded his crotch. He licked the edges of his teeth. Turning a bit, he gave her a gift, a quick glimpse of his cock, thickening with thoughts of sex with the two of them, their long, streaked hair falling over him, their mouths painted red, bright red, and ready to open to him. He let out a groan when he thought of those slick, scarlet lips and the joy they could bring.

Stop it.

He heard Myra’s voice as clearly as if she were in the room with him, his conscience sounding as shrewish as her cloying reminders.

You have work to do! The nagging voice never let up.

His dick started to shrivel.