by Box Set
A poker stick with the sharp burn of electricity built into it caught my eye. Taking the long, rod-like device from its hook off the wall, I studied how it worked. Smooth plastic grip, a long pole structure, a ‘U’ shape fork at the opposite end. Thumbing the switch, I flicked it on. There was no indication it was working, but I knew it did. Algis was meticulous with his instruments of torture.
“You stupid fucking whore. I’m going to kill you slowly, make sure you feel that pain for fucking months before I give you death.”
Pressing the stick into his ribs, Algis roared with pain, his body quivering with the jolt of electricity. Magnificent.
“Kalė!”
Spittle flew from his mouth, and though I had no idea what he’d just said, I knew it couldn’t be nice.
“You may call me, mistress,” I crooned, the exact same words he’d used on me all those years ago.
“I’d rather eat shit.”
Glancing down at the excrement below his feet, my smile grew. “That can be arranged.”
Not wanting to touch that mess, though, I lowered the electric fork to his cock and pressed it into the flesh there. His screams were pleasing to hear, so sweet and tortured. For a brief moment, I wondered if perhaps I was just as sick as him. Maybe I was, but I hadn’t always been this way. Before me had been pure, gentle Lucy. Algis ruined her.
The cords in Algis’ neck were tight, his head was thrown back in agony, and his body pulsed with the current. Pulling the stick from his flesh, I watched as he sagged with relief. He didn’t deserve relief, I was never gifted it. I poked him again and again, until the dry crusted blood on his neck caught my attention. Blood, we needed more of that. Dropping the prodding stick, I moved to the surgical table and picked up the knife Hart had given me yesterday. Bringing it reverently to my chest, I paused, a gleam from the table grabbing my attention. A scalpel lay on a black velvet cloth, along with other surgical looking instruments. Placing my knife down, I picked up the scalpel. It was brilliant, so sleek, so sharp, so pretty. It was extraordinary how striking a blade could appear when standing on the other side of it. Moving back to Algis, I smiled again. His breathing was coming fast, short, and sharp. A sheen of sweat coated his waxy skin, hawk-like eyes bloodshot, tears squeezing out the corners.
“You’re a crazy bitch,” he spat out with a rasping voice.
“Thank you.”
It wasn’t a compliment, but I was going to accept it as one, because he could have called me a whore or a fuck toy or a slut. Crazy was so much better and far more accurate. Raising the scalpel to his chest, I pressed the blade against his skin, watching it depress with elasticity before piercing the flesh. A bead of blood pooled and dripped into his wiry chest hair.
“Call me mistress,” I whispered.
“Not a fucking chance.”
Perfect. Pressing harder, I sliced him open, his low growl soon becoming a pitiful wail. Blood coated his flesh as I continued to cut, starting at one side of his chest, and after several minutes, finishing at the other. Standing back, I took in my work. The word beauty was carved into his body for all to see.
“I think this means I own you,” I sang.
“Do your worst, slut, but it won’t change the fact I had your virgin pussy, ass, and mouth.” There was no doubt he was in pain, but the fight in his words pissed me off.
Memories attacked my mind, and I brought my hands to my head, pressing against the pressure of the violence trying to escape. Throwing the scalpel aside, I grabbed a long, thick, heavy rubber baton and began swinging it at Algis’ body. His laughter was quick to fade as I swung and swung, the blood from the wounds on his chest splattering, the slap against his flesh comforting. The grunts and groans were satisfying, but not nearly as much as his limp body when I finally moved away. I wanted to end him so bad, to watch him take that last breath. Then I wanted to sit back and watch his lifeless form burn while I roasted marshmallows in the flames.
Glancing to the corner of the room, I found Hart sitting on a leather sofa, his long legs sprawled out before him, one hand resting on the armrest, the other rubbing at the dark hair on his jaw. He shook his head, just once, as if hearing my thoughts. No killing. Letting out a long sigh of disappointment, I didn’t miss the smirk he tried to hide behind his hand as I returned to the wall of instruments. Grabbing the nipple clamps that hung from a long, thick chain, I returned to Algis.
“I hated these,” I murmured, as I squeezed one of the clamps with sharp metal teeth.
Reaching forward, I attached one to his right nipple, then left. Algis moaned, and I wondered if it sounded anything like the pained moan I had let out when he used them on me. Gathering the chain that hung to his groin in one hand, I pulled. His flesh jerked forward with the clamps, and I grinned as Algis’ moans became screams. More beautiful cries. These weren’t like normal bondage clamps. They were sharp, and the teeth bit into your skin, holding like the jaws of a vicious animal. I pulled and pulled, until one nipple tore free, followed quickly by the other.
Those screams disappeared, even though his mouth was still agape, eyes wide with shock, and I missed the sound immediately. Racing to the table, I picked up my knife and returned to his abused body. I wrapped my hand around his flaccid cock, pulled it taut, and placed the knife against the shaft. Before cutting, though, I looked to Hart.
Shrugging, he said, “I’ve heard of many men surviving castration. I’ll make sure he gets to Charlie still breathing.”
Hearing what I needed, I looked back to Algis. He looked beaten, bloody, and ruined. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough.
“Call me mistress.” Leaning in close, my hair whispered across his abused flesh, the white strands stained red. “Or better yet, say you’re sorry.”
“Fuck. You.”
His words were faint, but I didn’t miss them. Pulling his cock even tighter, I sliced through the flesh with the knife from his kitchen. Those lovely cries were back, and the depths of pain laced within them were soothing to my soul. Slicing through the organ wasn’t as difficult as one might think. Somewhat like slicing through a thick, tough, raw steak. Blood coated my hands, sprayed over the shirt I was wearing, and down my legs. With a final slice through a stringy substance that might have been nerves, I raised the organ for Algis to see. He was delirious with pain, the whites of his eyes blood red, spit dripping from his mouth, tears running down his face. This here was real beauty.
With one hand, I tugged his mouth open, then stuffed his dick inside it. Half-hearted muffled groans pulled another smile to my lips as I took a few steps away. This was what I’d dreamed of, his destruction, his pain, his humiliation. The monster inside me purred, my memories faded, and my shoulders pressed back. Something close to happiness filled me like an empty cup beneath a flowing faucet. Looking toward Hart, I found he had shifted. He was still sitting on the sofa, but his legs had spread wider, his once relaxed body taut, his hand resting over the obvious hardness behind his zipper. Sharp cheekbones were flushed with color, his lids hooded. Lust, I’d seen it enough times to know it. Turning, I moved to the sink and carefully washed the blood from my hands. Killing a man filled me with happiness, yet Hart filled me with something else.
Trepidation?
Wonder?
Fear?
Algis was blissfully silent as I passed him, skipping across the room to stand before Hart.
“You’re aroused?” I asked, my hands going to my hips. Hart gave me a single, short nod. “You get off on pain.” I knew men like this. Algis was a man who grew lustful with pain.
“Not just any pain, not your pain. His pain. He deserved your vengeance, and it was fucking beautiful.”
My gaze lowered to the bulge in his pants, and before I could think too deeply about what I was doing, I removed my bloody shirt and straddled Hart’s thighs.
13
HART
Majestic. There was no other word for it. Her revenge had been glorious, the wild way she methodically destroyed Al
gimas, stunning. With every hit and slice, I grew harder and harder. Not once did she falter, she was perfect. Now, as she straddled my legs, her naked body on display, blood sprayed down her legs and a few flecks on her cheeks and tangled in her hair, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Tentatively, she reached for my zipper.
“You don’t need to do this,” I choked out, my hand stopping hers.
Pausing, she looked me in the eye. “This isn’t about need . . . it’s about want.”
Never a more poetic phrase. Careful fingers pulled the tongue of my zipper down, and I groaned loudly when she reached in and pulled my cock free. Had I ever been so hard?
“This part of a man has always been used to hurt me,” she confessed, her fingers timidly exploring my length. My eyes just about rolled back in my head, my desire simmered so close to the surface it would only take a few strokes to bring me relief.
“I would never hurt you, you have my word.”
Offering a small nod, Beauty began to caress me, her grip firm as she rose to the tip, twisting just slightly before returning to the base. While her very touch was the epitome of heaven, if we were to continue, we needed lubrication. One glance at the spread lips of her pussy splayed so prettily before me, and I knew she was wet.
“Use your pussy and ride my cock.” Her hand stilled and fear battled for dominance in her big, blue eyes. “I won’t enter you. You’re in control here. Just slide along my cock and get yourself off while you get me off. I want to see you come, beautiful.”
Ever so fucking slowly, she moved, positioning her pussy right over my dick that lay rigid against my stomach. Lowering herself, I groaned out loud this time as her wet heat reached my tender flesh. When she moved, an experimental slide, my head fell back onto the sofa. It felt fucking incredible. It wasn’t long before her confidence grew as she rocked her hips in a seductive dance, her breasts swaying above my mouth, the nipples beautifully peaked. I managed to keep my hands firmly at my sides as she slid back and forth along my dick. I don’t think I’d ever had a woman take me in such a way, and there wasn’t much that could beat sinking into a wet cunt, but fuck if this didn’t come close. Faster and faster she moved, sliding over me, her wetness creating the sweetest friction. My orgasm was already beginning to build, the familiar tightening in my balls, and I wanted to stop it almost as much as I wanted to feel it. Beauty took the option from my hands as she gripped my cock, pumping me hard as she rocked furiously, her rhythm lost to passion. I came hard, my body becoming rigid, my mind numb as my heart tried to explode from my chest. As the rush began to fade, and sense returned, I watched Beauty throw her head back, her lips forming the most perfect “O.” Her long, throaty moan spoke of her enjoyment as she continued to rub her pussy against my cock while her body trembled.
Fucking glorious.
It took a few short moments for her to return from the bliss she’d rocked herself to, and when she did, she slumped forward. There was no fear as she pressed her naked body against mine, her head resting in the crook of my neck. Unable to resist, I brought my hands around her and pressed one palm to her back, the other tangled in her hair, holding her close to my body. I wanted her as close as I could get her. No, not wanted, needed.
The smell of my seed and her arousal perfumed the tainted air in the dungeon. This had been a poignant moment of regaining control for Beauty. She’d unleashed her monster and purged some of that hate and anger that was coiled around her heart. Climbing onto my lap and bringing us both to orgasm had been the perfect way to sate our blood lust. I’d told her she was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit anywhere. I was wrong. She was my motherfucking missing piece that I didn’t even know was lost. Eventually, Beauty pulled back a few inches. A tear slipped over her lashes, rolling down her pale cheek and falling from her chin. Raising a finger, I wiped it away.
“No tears,” I gruffly ordered.
Breathing deeply, she nodded, holding back the onslaught I knew was brewing so close to the surface. Call me callous, but I couldn’t face her tears, they’d slay me. Noticing the blood on my palm, I chuckled.
“Perhaps we should take a shower, hmmm?”
Beauty slid off my lap and stood, while I tucked my dick away then reached for her hand. We ignored Algimas as we left the dungeon and climbed the stairs to the upper level of the house. I was tired of looking at this stark-white monstrosity, the bland coloring was getting under my skin. It wouldn’t be too much longer and Matis would start to stink the place worse than the underlying scent of clove cigarettes already in the air. It was time to leave. I needed one of my men to retrieve Algimas and get him to Decena. I would normally deliver acquisitions in person, but Beauty and I had another mission awaiting. From my back pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and sent a quick text to Raul giving him new orders and asking him to bring some clothes. He was already inside the property, working on the computer downstairs.
The bathroom was as ostentatious as the rest of the house. Blindingly white with gold trimming. I missed the stone shower that sat outside my beachside home, the sun, moon, and stars free to peek into the wide, open room. The cubicle before us had plenty of space, with double shower heads, and Beauty was quick to climb in and get the water started. Stripping off my clothes, I joined her, she at one end, me the other. Both of us just stood there, heated water washing away the blood and stench of death. Beauty’s eyes roamed over my body, starting at my feet and working their way up to my face. Under her smoldering inspection, my dick unsurprisingly hardened again. Ignoring my uncontrollable appendage, I searched through the line-up of body washes to find the least scented and began scrubbing. After a few minutes, I discovered Beauty had followed my lead as she soaped her pale skin. Now my cock was standing to full mast, my balls tight and aching. Fuck it. Soaping my hand, I lowered it to my painfully hard dick and began to stroke, up and down, up and down. Remembering Beauty’s hand on me, shy, yet expert, helped fuel my desire. Gripping my shaft a little tighter, I stroked faster, and when I opened my eyes, I found Beauty paused midway through bathing, her mouth slightly agape as she watched me. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to stop, I kept sliding my hand up and down the silky length before reaching lower with my free hand to cup my balls. Beauty looked utterly enthralled, her gaze glued to my hand as it worked the tension out of my cock. All too soon, my thighs pulled taut, my balls drew up high, and I came into the spray of water. With one final slide of my hand, and a gasp of pleasure, I released my cock to finish showering.
“Why did you do that?” Beauty asked, only now returning to the task at hand.
“Because watching you made me hard again.”
“I could have helped,” she whispered.
Smiling, I turned off the shower and strode to her side of the wide, open space. Placing one finger under her chin, I lifted her gaze to mine.
“Your purpose in life isn’t to avail me of my constant lust for you. I can take care of myself, and if you feel the need, you are more than welcome to help me out. Or even use me to get yourself off. I can assure you, I’ll always be most willing.”
Pressing a quick, chaste kiss to her lips, I turned my back and left the shower, finding a towel to dry off. In Algimas’ bedroom, I ignored the chains secured to the floor by the side of the bed. Paying them any attention would just inflame my anger. Raul had brought up my bag, and a pile of clothes with tags still attached sat beside it. I dressed quickly and watched as a naked Beauty thumbed curiously through the black jeans, plain blue cotton shirt, and black sweater. There was no underwear, but that didn’t seem to bother her as she dressed. The jeans hugged her small frame leaving little to the imagination, the shirt was tight over her breasts, and the sweater was a little baggy. A pair of flip flops finished the ensemble. She looked far removed from the killer she had proved she could be.
Moving back to the lower level of the house, Beauty followed but came to an abrupt standstill when we entered the kitchen to find Raul sitting on the countertop, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his h
and. Tea, that’s what I needed right now, a steaming pot of Earl Gray.
“Beauty, this is Raul, one of the men who works on jobs with me. He is the tech genius I mentioned earlier. He’s been working on Algimas’ computer to find this girl he claims to have bought.”
She didn’t move, her eyes wide and body poised not sure whether to fight or flee.
“Buenos días, señorita,” Raul offered, raising his cup toward Beauty.
“Have you spoken to Sylvie and the kids?”
Raul’s grin grew even wider, if that were at all possible. The man loved his family and loved talking about them even more.
“Sí, Maria told me her mama has been grumpy since her papa went away. I think Sylvie will have your bolas next time she sees you for calling me in to work when our bebé is only five-weeks-old.”
“You have a baby?” Beauty asked, her eyes turning from panic to interest.
Raul pulled his cell phone from his pocket and jumped down from the countertop.
“I have five niños. Let me show you.”
Beauty tensed as Raul approached. He was military trained and had a sharp eye, he wouldn’t have missed it, yet he continued forward as if there weren’t a young woman ready to reach for the closest knife and fight her way out of the kitchen if need be. Holding up his phone, he began to proudly show off his brood.
“This is Maria, she is twelve, and oh, she has fire, just like her mama,” he declared proudly. “Diego is nine, he is the smartest niño I’ve ever known. Javi and Teyo are four-year-old twin boys and trouble with a capital T, and Samuel is the bebe. He is five-weeks-old.”
With her eyes transfixed on the phone, Beauty’s body relaxed by the smallest of margins. Raul had that way about him, his relaxed attitude belaying the dangerous man that lay beneath his easygoing persona. He could thaw the coldest of hearts and worm his way into the lives of the most private people.