6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Vincent
F lipping the cloth back over her mouth, I continue with the waterboarding. After exhausting another pitcher full of water, she’s a mess. She tries twisting her head side to side to avoid the water, but she can’t. I’ve done enough waterboarding to recognize the signs of distress. They all eventually cry. They all eventually beg me to stop. And they all eventually give me what I want.
Except she hasn’t.
Yet.
She’s a helluva lot tougher than I thought. Her sobs should be music to my ears, but my satisfaction doesn’t come without stabs of guilt, a sensation I haven’t felt for anyone except Irene, for whom I am drowning in guilt. I didn’t think there was room left for me to feel remorse for anyone else.
Instead of pouring another round of water onto her, I slide my fingers between her thighs to stroke her clit. Her present circumstance, where she’s fighting for a simple breath, doesn’t lend itself to arousal. That, and I know she hates my touch. But her body is another beast. As she has shown before, despite my sadistic torments, her omega traits prevail. I’ve never seen such intense corporal desires.
She grows wetter between the legs. Her body shivers, either from arousal or the waterboarding. Quietly, I continue to fondle her as I watch her chest rise and fall. Noticing the droplets of water that landed about her collar, her shoulders, and her breasts, my body warms. Blood throbs in my groin as I remember how it felt to be buried inside of her, to have her hot, wet pussy wrapped about my cock.
She whimpers faintly when I drag her moisture over her now swollen clit .
“That feel good, pet?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. Unfortunately for her, there’s no right answer. Still, I’m curious to see what answer she chooses.
“We’re going to continue with the waterboarding until you answer my question,” I tell her before nodding at Cho.
As he pours the water, her body strains and thrashes against the restraints.
She doesn’t hide her crying anymore. I should push the waterboarding. It may not take much more to break her.
But I don’t. The memory of her coming, that first time in the pillory and again in the cage, has me aroused. I won’t be satisfied until I see her do it again.
After several minutes, her crying dies down. I continue to caress her gently, my tender touch telling her to relax, that it’s going to be okay.
Irene once said that my embrace made her feel safe, as if my arms could protect her against anything. But she was wrong. She perished because of me. Someone found out about us. They took her out to get to me.
This “Irene” knows the truth: that my touch is deadly.
But she hasn’t failed to come for me anyway.
I flip the bottom of the cloth over her mouth to let her suck in air and answer me. Rolling my fingers over her clit, I ask again, “That feel good?”
After whimpering and sniffling for a few minutes, she’s able to answer. “Yes.”
Walking over to the chest of drawers, I pull out the oscillator. After placing it to her clit, I turn it on. She squeaks at the concentrated vibrations and starts to pant and grunt, groaning when I turn off the device.
“I want you to tell me how much you like being molested by your master,” I tell her.
“I like being molested by my master,” she whispers without much hesitation, a far cry from her first day filled with defiance.
I stroke her with the oscillator. “Tell me in dirty details what a slut like you wants. ”
“I want—”
“Start with ‘a slut like me wants.’”
“A slut like me wants you—”
“My master,” I correct.
“My master to—”
“Start over.”
“I want— A slut like me wants my master to turn the vibrator back on.”
I wait for her to elaborate.
“That vibrator felt so good,” she adds.
“You can be more creative, more dirty than that.”
“I like that vibrator. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I’m horny for it.”
“Have you always been such a horny little slut?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more. Tell me how you’re a horny little slut.”
When she doesn’t respond, I prompt her by turning on the oscillator for a few seconds.
“I once masturbated twenty times in a single day. ”
“Twenty? How slutty. No wonder your daddy fucked you all the time.”
She frowns.
I know she hates it when I say things like that, so I continue. “Your daddy the one who popped your cherry?”
“You’re so fucking disgusting,” she murmurs.
“Then who got to pop your cherry?”
“None of your damn business.”
I turn off the oscillator.
“Just some boy from school,” she answers.
“He pop your anal cherry too or did daddy do that one for you?”
“No one did, you sick fucking bastard.”
I’m getting under her skin, and it seems to energize her, giving her a second wind. I could slap her back down. Let Cho and Reggie waterboard her ad nauseum, but the scent of her arousal has gotten stronger. I feel unsettled, as if I’m the one being denied the beautiful vibrations of the oscillator.
Deciding I want to see her come, I use the oscillator to draw circles on her clit. “I’ll take that as a compliment, pet. I like how angry you get for me.”
Her frown deepens as she realizes there’s no winning with me. Messing with her is so much fucking fun. I uncover her face to look into her eyes. “Tell me how much you hate me.”
“I hate you like nothing else,” she says with unwavering conviction.
“But you like coming for me anyway.”
With my free hand, I cup a breast. It’s a nice size. Not too small, not too large. Though it doesn’t really matter to me. Irene was petite and had a small chest, but she was perfection.
But with Ramona’s tits, there’s a lot I can do with them.
“So you can’t hate me all that much,” I conclude provokingly.
She calls me out. “And I thought you were smart. If I weren’t an omega, there’s no way in hell I’d ever come for you.”
I let the oscillator drift over the plentiful nerves of her urethral opening. She shivers and whimpers.
“I don’t know about that,” I counter.
“The fact that I tried to kill you doesn’t clue you in on how I really feel about you? ‘Hate’ isn’t a strong enough word.”
“Why is that? What exactly did I do to you? Did you want a date and I turned you down?”
I know it’s nothing like that. She’s too lucid to be so emotional that she’d attempt to assassinate me over something so trivial. I just like to get under her skin.
She gives a sarcastic grunt.
“Is it because I killed your hubby or boyfriend?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond.
“Fiancé? I know. The most special man in your life. Daddy.”
She stiffens. And it’s not the stiffening of her body trying to force back an impending orgasm. I had long suspected that she blames me for the death of at least one loved one. But Esen, my head of security, hasn’t been able to connect her with any of our body counts .
I lean toward her ear and say softly, “I had Daddy killed.”
She stifles a croak. Her chest heaves. Her nose has been running off and on throughout the waterboarding, and her sniffling grows louder.
Suddenly she sounds like a whimpering little girl to me.
Fuck. I’m such an asshole.
First I kill her father. Then I use the memory of her father in the most disgusting way.
I get her hate. I get her desire for revenge. If I were in her shoes, I would’ve done the same.
“Who was Daddy?” I ask.
She doesn’t say anything.
“Maybe he deserves more respect than I’ve given him.”
Still nothing.
I switch tactics. “Except I know the names of each and every body count. Your father can’t have been very significant if he doesn’t even register. ”
I can feel her glare through her face covering.
I continue running the oscillator over her clit and down to her perineum. “You and I both know your name isn’t Lazzarelli. Instead of giving me the names of your accomplices, you can just give me yours. I’ll let you come. I’ll stop the waterboarding. I’ll let you have a quick and easy death, instead of one that’s painful and drawn out.”
“All that just for a name?”
“I’d say you’re getting the better end of the deal.”
She doesn’t flinch. “But I already gave you a name. Irene.”
I stiffen.
Sensing my reaction, she repeats, “Irene. My name is Irene.”
The fucking bitch.
Just when I was going to go soft on her, she stabs my wound. On purpose. How does she even know? Could she possibly have a connection to my Irene?
More likely she picked up on my reaction the first time she dropped that name. She’s a perceptive fucking bitch.
Suppressing my rage, I say, “So you want to do it like that. I’ll withdraw my offer then.”
Turning off the oscillator, I pull the wet cloth over her whole face. She starts to tremble.
“Wait,” I tell Cho before he pours water over her.
From the dresser, I retrieve a pair of weights dangling from nipple clamps. She stifles a cry when I clip them to her hardened nubs. I nod to Cho and watch as the weights, hanging down from the sides of her body, sway with every thrash. Her body convulses under the water, causing the weights to pull on her nipples, but there’s nothing she can do. She can’t control her body’s response to the waterboarding, so her nipples get no relief.
I dare her to pull that name shit again.