Chapter 6
Six
Nicolas
The next few hours pass by slowly, and normally, holding pliers to a man’s tongue is a favorite pastime of mine. I love getting them to sputter their confessions, to give up names through tears and desperation-ridden eyes right before I cover the room in their blood.
It’s not as satisfying after spending the morning with my little herder, though.
How someone could be so cute and sexy at the same time I don’t know, but he does both words justice.
He was so fucking needy too, eager to hear my praise and for me to tell him to come.
I don’t know what got him to the edge more, holding out for the words or me saying them.
I’m normally a fan of a good edging—it’s like playing with my food right before devouring it—but today I wanted to see him mess all over the place.
Those sounds and the way his body shook . . . they had me stuck in my head all day, and getting away from my thoughts of him didn’t last long.
“You’re going to let me go now, right?” the man begs. Once again, nothing; my body and brain would rather be somewhere else. In my room or truck, on the other side of my phone or computer screen, watching my Little Bo touch himself and practice getting ready for me.
“No. I’ve had a change of heart.” I grin and his eyes widen, hands in fists as he struggles against the ropes.
I yank his tongue out more, closing my fingers around the handles, and his tongue falls into his lap, blood squirting on my face.
I tug him by his hair, tilting his head back before yanking out each of his front teeth.
His body convulses, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and I keep going, torturing him more for taking up so much of my time.
I missed Patrick’s video because I was stuck down here for hours, using several tactics to get the information I needed.
We could have done this quickly and easily, but of course this man had to make me work harder for it, so now I’m making him work harder for the end of his misery.
Gurgling sounds surround me, and he twitches a few more times before going lifeless as I remove one of his eyes.
Getting up from my stool, I take off my gloves and toss them in a metal trash can.
The stench of blood is stronger than before, decorating my arms and clothes.
Would my little Bo get pleasure out of watching me work like I do him?
Or would he be disgusted and scared? I’ve avoided relationships and dating for a reason.
One-night stands had gotten too risky and I was worried what would happen when I craved more.
I never did until now, and that more keeps growing.
Like I said before, when I want something, I fucking want it.
I burn for it and froth at the fucking mouth going after it.
And I want my little Bo. His sweet little innocent moments, his bad days, his good days and those moments where he isn't afraid to let his deepest desires out.
I'm trying not to take too much at one time but it's getting difficult to hold back.
I've been doing my best to stay busy with work while struggling not to look in on him every now and then, but fuck does he look so welcoming sleeping naked above the covers with his hips arched.
With a new set of gloves on, I get a zip-lock bag from the shelf in the corner and gather all the small pieces of my little friend inside to leave for his brother.
Maybe this will get him to leave my client alone, and hopefully with all the names I got of the men planning to sabotage him, he’ll pay me to go after them too.
Not like I’m hurting for clients. People always have enemies and spouses they want to see pay.
As long as they do, I don’t have to worry about money, or about losing control of the dark hunger inside me with anyone I care about.
Not that I have very many of those left.
Another reason I keep people at a distance.
I can't stand to lose anyone else due to who I am.
Due to the consequences that come with my line of work.
Blood drips onto the plastic tarp covering my floor and I wrap the body up, carrying it to my truck bed.
Once loaded, I return to what I call my office and wash everything off with the hose, not stopping until the water going down the drain in the floor is clear.
I mop the floors with bleach and burn all the evidence in the trash bin.
All except one tooth. I drop it into a jar with the rest and place it behind a picture on the wall, shoving it deep into the hole.
They’re keepsakes. Reminders of what I’m capable of and how far I’ve come.
They’d also be my downfall if anyone found them, but I needed the small risk after everything started to feel so easy.
Since I don’t make deliveries to my brother’s place until nightfall, I have plenty of time to kill with the person I’d much rather have tied up in my house.
Picturing him down here, so close to the real me and knowing what I’ve done, sends a thrill through me.
After fixing myself a sandwich, I stomp toward my computer and bring up Little Bo Peep’s site, sending him a message.
Sheep Finder: Are you able to leave your room tonight?
Little Bo Peep: Negative. My phone is older and the quality is getting worse, along with the connection. I'm trying to keep everything on my webcam going forward until I can get a better setup.
Sheep Finder: I can send you money for a new one.
Little Bo Peep: On top of what you’re already giving me?
Sheep Finder: Yes, we can call it a gift.
Little Bo Peep: You mean like the one you’re supposedly getting to me somehow.
Sheep Finder: Yes.
Little Bo Peep: Whatever you want. It’s your money.
I almost tell him he’s mine too, but we can wait for that, for when I have my cock buried deep inside him and I’m leaving my fingerprints behind on his pretty neck.
Sheep Finder: Indeed. We’ll keep tonight’s activity inside then. Tomorrow’s too.
Little Bo Peep: Tomorrow? If it’s at 6 a.m. again I won’t be able to make it.
Sheep Finder: Before your midday nap works.
Little Bo Peep: Okay. I’m changing my clothes and tidying up a little before we get started.
Sheep Finder: Can I watch?
Little Bo Peep: You want to watch me clean?
Sheep Finder: I want to watch whatever you’ll let me. You can pretend I’m not here. Or not. Whichever you prefer.
Little Bo Peep: I’d rather know you are.
Sheep Finder: In that case, I’ll be everywhere you need me.
Little Bo Peep: I haven’t eaten anything since morning so should probably cook myself something real quick.
Sheep Finder: I want to see that too, and if at any time you look back at me watching and need to get off, I want you to release yourself all over the screen.
Next thing I know the camera is turning on and my cute little freckled sweetheart shows up on the other side of the screen.
Sheep Finder: There you are, my pretty little bo.
“Here I am,” he says, cheeks heating. “Should I change first?”
Sheep Finder: You should take your dirty clothes off, but no sense putting new ones on only to get dirty or naked again minutes later.
“You have a very good point.” He stands up, lifting his shirt over his head and setting in on the chair.
His pants come off next and he stays in his underwear as he takes his dirty laundry to the bathroom.
When he returns, he’s tugging on the elastic of his jockstrap.
His breaths are sharp as he comes closer, winking at me before bending over to pick up his shoes from the floor.
His ass is in clear view, globes bouncing as he lifts the dustpan to carry it to the other side of the room.
Cock aching, I undo my pants, and my gaze moves everywhere he is. He doesn’t look back at me for a long time, humming softly to himself as he strips his bed. Silky pink sheets replace the white ones, and he shakes his ass at the camera as he leans down to stretch each corner over the mattress.
Moans slip from his pretty lips, and he presses his body to one of the pillows as he puts on the new pillowcase, humping the soft object. Horny little thing. He really loves being watched. It’s turning him on too much for him to control his urges.
Turning around, he looks at me and straightens his back.
A pretty crimson color dusts his cheeks and spreads to his chest as he slips a hand into his underwear.
“I’m getting wet again and I want to show someone.
Hopefully there’s someone nearby watching me.
” He steps closer, lashes fluttering. He’s too perfect.
If only he really knew exactly how much I watched him.
How addictive it's become. How it's my favorite way to start and end my day.
Biting his lower lip, he ducks forward and lifts his hand so I can see the wet spot on the thin blue fabric.
I stroke myself, long and slow, letting out a garbled groan.
My tip leaks and I’m almost as wet as he is, but he clearly is a heavier producer.
Rubbing over his precum-stained underwear, he circles his hips and sticks out his tongue.
I want to taste it. I want to run my tongue and mouth over all of him.
Dropping his hand, he approaches the computer and carries it with him to the kitchen.
I keep my hand still on my cock as he dances in front of the stove, my body burning with need as he waves his perfect ass around.
I’m throbbing by the time he’s done making himself a grilled cheese, and when he sits down at the table to eat, he scoots back enough for me to see his groin.
Spreading his legs, he tugs the front of his underwear to the side and his cock springs free.
Angry and red, it dribbles on the wooden chair between his pretty flushed thighs.