Dirty Revenge

by Ella Miles

She smirks, and her eyes gleam with her defiance. Her dark eyes scan my body looking for a clue to what happened. Her mouth falls open when she finds it.

  “Oh my god! You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing,” I say, although I know it needs stitches. Adela only let me go after I promised I would go to the hospital. But I can’t go to a hospital today. I’ll put a bandage on and go in the morning.

  “Out, Gia,” my voice rings out its final warning. I can’t handle being near her for one more second.

  She ignores me as her hands pull the buttons of my shirt apart. Her hands go to my wounds, and she carefully examines it.

  “You were shot,” she says calmly. Her eyes slowly moving back up from the wound to my eyes.

  I don’t answer her. She didn’t question me anyway. She’s been around enough bullet wounds to know the answer without me explaining.

  She sees whatever she is searching for in my eyes, and then she steps out of the tub brushing past me and disappearing out of the bathroom. Finally listening to my command.

  It’s what I wanted, but I’m left in the cold, empty bathroom by myself, and I suddenly wish she would have continued to disobey me. At least it would give me something to focus on.

  “Sit,” her voice rings through the bathroom as she places a first aid kit on the counter.

  I sink onto the edge of the tub. I don’t know why I listen to her. Probably because I have no fight left in me.

  She opens the first aid kit and starts digging through it. She sighs and pulls a few items out of it.

  “The hydrogen peroxide is expired, and there is nothing to stitch the wound closed. Let me clean it for you, and I think I can use these band-aids and gauze to at least stop the bleeding until Michi can get us some better supplies.”

  My eyes stay on her body, only a towel covering her naked body. Her hair is pulled up in a bun on top of her head, but a few curls hang down dripping water down onto her chest. The only part of her hair that got wet when she took a bath.

  I don’t say anything, and neither does she, as she kneels next to my body so she can examine the wound on my stomach. She pushes my shirt open, and I let it fall off my body.

  She takes out the expired peroxide and some gauze.

  “This is going to sting,” she warns. Her big eyes fill with something I wasn’t expecting to see. Kindness.

  I don’t move as she pours the liquid onto my wound. It doesn’t sting. Maybe on another day, I would feel the burn, but not today. Today I’m too overwhelmed with my grief to feel something as minute as a tiny sting.

  Gia bites her lip as she works. Her careful fingers work quickly as she uses the band-aids like a stitch pulling my wound closed. She then takes the gauze and places it with a larger wrapping to protect the wound.

  When she finishes, she sits back examining it, but I know she did a good job. The bleeding has slowed and will eventually stop. She did so well I may not even need stitches to keep the wound closed.

  She doesn’t ask me what happened. She doesn’t ask how I ended up with a bullet wound.

  And I don’t ask how she knows how to heal a wound so well.

  We both come from the same world. We know. We both deal with evil every day. We create it and harness it. I don’t have to explain what happened. But the bullet isn’t what is causing my despair. On any other day, I would be angry. I don’t like having my life, or any of my employees’ lives, threatened. But today, it was just a blip on the never-ending pain I feel.

  I didn’t even realize I had been shot until Adela pointed it out to me and made me promise I would go to the hospital. At least now that Gia has fixed me up I won’t bleed to death tonight.

  We both sit on the edge of the bath for a while, neither speaking or looking at each other. Occasionally she glances at me in the mirror out of the corner of her eye. She wants to say more. I can see it, but she knows I won’t answer.

  I can’t answer even if I wanted to.

  Slowly Gia stands. She licks her lips, turning to me with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

  Any other day I would revel in that look. I would do almost anything to see it. But tonight it does nothing for me.

  She drops the towel. I watch as it puddles on the floor.

  She clears her throat, and my gaze travels upward over her thin legs that used to be scattered with heavy bruises. Now the bruises have lightened to the point of almost disappearing. The red cuts have turned to thin scars.

  My eyes hover for a second over her pussy that appears to already be swollen and dripping. I don’t allow my eyes to linger. If I had sex with her right now, I would destroy her. But as my eyes travel further up over her perky breasts and her red lips, I’m lost to my own darkness.

  I couldn’t get my revenge tonight, but I’m desperate to take it out on her. I can’t drink the whiskey, but maybe if I drink her, I’ll be able to forget. If only for a few minutes. Or I’ll pass out afterward from the ecstasy.

  “Use me,” she says, her voice strong and determined.

  Her words are exactly what I want to hear, but I know if I give in, I won’t be able to hold back. I will ruin her. Destroy her. She will hate me more than she hates Dante.

  “No.” My voice rolls through the room bouncing off the walls. It took everything inside me to say it, and I don’t have the strength to repeat it. But my voice tells her that. If she doesn’t leave, I will demolish her.

  She swallows hard, considering my unsaid words with every breath.

  “I want to see your monster.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t think you are one.”

  “Last chance.” My voice is heavy with my final warning.

  “Show me the darkest part of you. Show me the worst. Show me how bad you truly are.”

  She’s testing me. Trying to release me, thinking if the worst part of me is out, then when my best returns, I’ll let her go. It’s a horrible plan because she won’t survive the night.

  I grab her smooth, slippery body and force her against the bathroom wall.

  She gasps, her mouth wide and open as her head hits the wall roughly bouncing off.

  I know it hurt, but the darkness doesn’t care. I like the pain, the suffering, the agony. It matches my own and stops me from feeling alone.

  “Your darkness doesn’t scare me.”

  “It should.”

  I squeeze her neck tightly, watching the tiniest bit of panic in her eyes. But she doesn’t struggle against me. She lets me suck the oxygen from her throat. I squeeze until she is on the verge of panicking. I’ve seen the look in her eyes before.

  I saw it the first time she was with Dante. She didn’t fight because it turned him on, but her eyes said she was defiant. She would survive.

  She’s wearing the same look now.

  An idea forms in my head. A dark and dangerous one.

  “Stand here and don’t move.” I turn and walk out of the bathroom, heading to my living room. I pull a security camera from a box I keep under the coffee table and carry it back to the bedroom. I flick the light on but don’t actually turn it on. Gia won’t know that though.

  Then, I start gathering everything. A whip, rope, candles, and a knife. I lay them out on the bed so she will see them all when she enters. She wants the worst. She’s about to get it.

  “Come here, Gia.”

  My voice is loud and dominating, but I don’t yell. And I know Gia will comply. She wants me to hurt her, so she can use it against me to get me to give her up later. She won’t fight me tonight. She wants the worst.

  I hear her careful footsteps against the tile and then she’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom. Her eyes flicker to the bed and then to me.

  Fear.

  I see it in her eyes this time, but she blinks, and it’s gone.

  She takes deep breaths in and out, and I can’t take my eyes off her breasts as they rise and fall.

  I glance at the clock on the wall. Nine PM. Three hours until this day is over. And
I plan on using every single one of them fucking Gia. She doesn’t know it yet, but tonight will be the longest night of her life.

  “You can’t hide your fear, beautiful. I can see it in your eyes. Hear it in your breath. It oozes out of you.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  I shake my head as I walk to her.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No.”

  I stop in front of her, watching as her breathing picks up speed, and she tries to anticipate my next move.

  I touch her cheek letting my finger travel slowly down her neck. Goosebumps form over her arms. I love mixing calm with roughness. I like the extremes. I like being rough with a woman and seeing her limits.

  In a split second, I change. I grab her body roughly and slam her to the bed. Her eyes close to keep in the pain. I expect her to tell me to stop at any point. I know she will last longer than this, for no reason other than her pride, but I know there will be more fear when she opens her eyes.

  I walk slowly to the edge of the bed where I laid out my toys for tonight, so she could anticipate what is coming next, and her fear would intensify.

  I grab the rope in my hand, feeling the threads, as I wait for her to open her eyes.

  She does, and I get the most beautiful view into her soul. It’s not fear I see. It’s lust, and my darkness reflecting back at me. Being rough with her turned her on.

  I smirk, knowing it won’t last.

  She eyes the rope in my hand, and she licks her lips slowly.

  I grab her wrist and stretch her hand to the end of the bed, tying it to the bedpost. She tests the rope as I move to her second hand. It’s only when both hands are tied up, does the panic start to creep in.

  My lips lower to hers, and I kiss her roughly, enjoying her arms tied up, knowing she can’t get free. At least, she thinks she can’t get free. All she would have to say is one word, and I’d stop: “no.” The second she says it this ends. I’m a monster, but not a rapist. I like hurting my victims by pushing them to their limit and not letting them know the rules.

  When I pull back, her mouth lingers trying to kiss me further. I grab her ankle and tie it to the bedpost and then spread her other leg wide and tie it to the other bedpost.

  She pants, both wanting me to come back and scared of what comes next, as she looks over at the items lying next to her. I take my time walking over to the dresser where I placed the camera.

  I press the top, and the red light comes on, indicating the camera is on.

  “I have clients tomorrow I owe a large debt to. They would love to see a video of my hot new slave.”

  I would never show your body to any man.

  “I owe them for saving my life. They might cancel my debt if I share you with them.”

  I would never share you with anyone.

  Her eyes flicker with every word.

  “I don’t believe you,” she says, but her eyes focus in on the camera. She thinks she knows who I am, but she’s never seen what turns me on. What I crave more than anything.

  I walk toward her, my mind racing with all the horrendous things I want to do to her body. Whip her, bite her, suffocate her, cut her, fuck her. I want to mark her body. I want her to know she is mine. I want her to follow my every command. I want to know every inch of her body.

  “You should,” I say, grabbing the whip and hitting her smooth stomach with it.

  She arches her back against the sharp pain, and she groans quietly, low in her throat. It’s enough to make me hard in an instant and forget everything shitty about this day.

  I strike her again, this time over her throbbing pussy. I get the reaction I need. A sharp cry followed by her body writhing against the rope keeping her body in position for me.

  Normally, I would be able to be patient with her. Take my time to bring each strike. Take my time with each method of torturing her body. But today, I’m too worked up. I need to do everything to her body all at once. Afterward, I will take my time. My breathing has quickened, and my pulse is a venom shooting through my body with the need to own her body as no man has before.

  She’s going to hate me.

  She raises her eyebrow like she knows I might back down. I might stop. We both want me to continue, just for entirely different reasons.

  I can’t stop. Not unless she says no.

  “Please,” she begs. It’s not a plea to stop; it’s a plea to continue.

  I toss the whip on the floor after striking her body several more times, watching her perfect flesh turn pink in every place I hit her. And every time I’m rewarded with a cry, a groan, and, once, a tear. It hurts, but she doesn’t tell me to stop.

  I love her cries, it feeds the darkness, but when I climb up on the bed and find her thighs wet with her desire, I lose my fucking mind. She likes my darkness.

  I can’t wait to be inside her. So I grab her hips and take her all at once, my cock driving inside her.

  She winces from the pain, but I don’t give her time to rest. I fuck her hard as my mouth devours her breasts. I bite hard on her nipple.

  And I know she would have slapped me if her hands were free. Her body jerks at the sharp pain.

  “Want me to stop, princess?”

  I lick her nipple, softening the pain before I strike again.

  “Never,” she whispers, but I’m not sure even she believes her own words.

  I grin before biting down hard again. I move my mouth up, needing to leave a permanent mark with my teeth, branding her as mine. I bite down hard on the fleshy part of her breast.

  “Fuck you, Conti!”

  Just the reaction I was hoping for. My dick grows harder inside of her, reaching depths I haven’t explored yet.

  I’ve tied her up, beaten her, exposed her to other men, and bitten her. But it’s not enough. She feels the pain. She’s experienced what I’m capable of. But she’s not been terrified.

  I kiss her roughly, our tongues tangling and fighting with each other, telling me everything she is feeling. She’s feeling a lot of emotions right now, but the main emotion she pushes through is determination. Don’t stop.

  Never.

  The words she spoke earlier ring in my head. Never is a long time.

  I grab the knife, the last of the toys for tonight. I bring it to her neck, and she freezes. The knife scares her. I knew it would. I’ve seen the fear in her eyes when Dante used it on her before.

  I let her feel the cold metal against her neck. Let her know her life is in my hands. How easy it would be for me to kill her if I wanted to.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I say, surprising us both with my compliment at this moment.

  I swallow hard, needing to see her bleed.

  She bites her lip, still holding her breath as she stares at me, realizing how big of a mistake she just made. I still my cock inside her.

  “I want to make you bleed. I want you to know your body is mine to do as I please. And now that you’ve offered your body so willingly to me, you’re mine, forever.”

  She sucks in a breath when I say forever, and I take the moment to scar her body. The knife pierces her skin at her neck, spilling red blood onto her glorious neck.

  “Fuck!” she cries out as the pain hits her. I drive my cock inside her, hitting the glorious spot inside that will mark this moment not only with pain but pleasure.

  My tongue laps over the cut, moving the blood over her neck while I continue to fuck her.

  Tears trickle down her cheek, but she doesn’t tell me to stop. She doesn’t tell me to go to hell. She doesn’t curse me at all.

  She lets me fuck her.

  I grab her neck, smearing the blood across her perfect skin as I do. I squeeze and watch the panic rise in her eyes as she can’t catch her breath.

  I fuck her harder, faster until she is mine completely. Mine to keep alive. Mine to make come. Mine to let die.

  “Come, princess.”

  “I—”

  “Come.” I don’t want to hear any words exce
pt her glorious screams as she comes.

  I loosen my grip on her neck and dive my head down to kiss her and bring her back to life. She moans into my mouth taking my oxygen from me. And then she comes, screaming my fucking last name. The only name she knew to call me for all those weeks when Dante thought she was his. She was never his; she was always mine.

  I shoot my cum into her tight cunt. Marking her again as mine. As soon as I finish, I take the knife and cut her arms and legs free.

  And then I wait for the slap. I wait for the curse. I wait for the yelling.

  Instead, she cries.

  Shit.

  I really did break her.

  I run to the bathroom, grab a wet washcloth and some band-aids to heal her.

  I sit carefully on the bed next to her as she cries more tears. Her hands are gripping her neck where blood still oozes.

  I slowly push her hands down as I press the washcloth to her skin.

  “I’m sorry. My monster is horrible. I’m sorry I hurt you. You should have told me to stop, and I would have.”

  Gia stops crying almost instantly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

  I frown. “Your neck is bleeding. Your body is pink and red where I struck you. Your pussy is battered after how roughly I fucked you without making sure you were ready for me. I hurt you.”

  She pushes my hand down.

  “No, you didn’t. I thought you would. I was prepared for it. I thought after talking with Adela that I hated you. I just needed you to push me a little harder, and I would hate you forever. I knew you would push me far and rip me to pieces. I thought doing so would fill me with enough anger, all I would focus on going forward is the need to get my revenge on you.”

  I nod, understanding her need for revenge. I used her tonight to get my revenge.

  “But I don’t hate you.”

  “How? You must hate me.” I hate me.

  “What Adela told me about you, hurt. I thought I could never forgive you, but just now I realized something. You were my guardian angel.”

  “Huh?”

  “You watched me the entire time I was with Dante, didn’t you?”

  I suck in a breath, not liking where this is going.

  “Didn’t you?” she presses again.

  “Yes, I watched you.”