9. CHAPTER NINE #3
Counting my breaths and grounding myself did fuck all for me that night, all those years ago.
My first kill.
I’d enjoyed the feeling of metal slicing through flesh and cartilage a little too much.
They were already dead when I started stabbing.
Every part of his body felt different. Each needed distinct amounts of pressure for the blade to fully sink in.
I chipped at some bones. Sliced open his cheeks from mouth to temple.
Dragged my knife down the middle of his chest and cracked open his ribs.
I was a monster, and he was Harry.
It was my therapy.
Fate had thrown me into bed with the Romanian mafia, and I was already their bitch.
Jude leans forward and hums in my ear; “You’re bigger than I thought you’d be, little Curren.”
“I’m not little.”
“Not here.” He drags his fist the full length of my shaft, twists around the head, and draws back. “How good do you think you taste?”
“Why don’t you find out?”
“Good boys don’t tell me what to do.”
Goddamn. The way those words affect me.
“Sorry,” I apologize again without thought, like I haven’t spent the last three decades avoiding the word.
He laughs, “You will be… Unless you try to run away again.”
“Screw you.” I try to roll my hips and fuck Jude’s hand, but he squeezes so hard my back hunches.
“I want to hear you beg.”
“I… I…” I stare down at his hand strangling my cock. “Harder.”
I can feel Jude smile against my neck. “You’re full of surprises… Little Curren.”
I bite down on the tip of my tongue to stop from cursing back at him.
“Good…” With his grip still tight, he drags his hand down my cock. The friction hurts. And when he squeezes the head, I hiss in pain. “…Boy.”
Jude’s other hand is warm against my balls as he cups them. The contrast is the only thing saving me from breaking.
But then, two of his fingers wrap around and trap my balls below them.
He squeezes tighter.
Pulls down.
Stretches.
He tugs the head of my cock in the opposite direction.
It’s fucking agony.
The veins in his forearms are bulging as he ruts against my ass.
I arch back into him, hissing again when the slight movement elevates the pain. But I fucking need it.
“I told you to beg.”
“I… I...” I stammer out as the room spins. “I need...”
“Yes?”
“Please… hurt me more.”
One by one, Jude’s fingers unfurl from the head of my cock to trace at the scarred letters again. “Bitch, ha?”
“Y—yeah.”
“So what the fuck is this, bitch?” he demands, shoving his palm in my face. I try to focus on it, but it’s too close. “You got my hand dirty… What do you say?”
As I exhale; the heat of my breath intensifying the smell of my pre-cum. "I'm sorry."
“And what should you do?”
I stick my tongue out, and Jude drags his hand down over it.
“Make sure you get it all,” he tells me, and separates his fingers. “Such a good puppy.”
My eyes roll back and I fight to stay on my feet.
So hot.
So fucking hot.
While licking the remnants of pre-cum from my lips, Jude lets go of my balls, grips the base of my dick even tighter than before, and slaps it. Hard. The pain is immediate, harsh, and all-consuming.
“More,” I beg, and he does it again.
My body jerks in response, and a cry rips from my traitorous throat before I can stop it.
“Look at you. You’re hard as a fucking rock. You masochistic little bitch.”
I whimper, and it’s pitiful.
I’m ashamed, but even more turned on.
He slaps me again, and a guttural moan fills the room.
“You little pain slut,” Jude laughs, and another slap follows in quick succession.
I gasp.
My knees almost buckle.
“Say it again.”
The air feels freezing against the red, inflamed skin, and I beg, "More."
“Spit.” His hand is back in my face.
I obey. Then with his other hand still clamped around the base of my dick, Jude works up and down my length.
He’s fast, then agonizingly slow.
He thumbs my slit. Digs his nail into it.
“Fuck!” I bang my forehead against the wall.
My mind is blank.
Nothing exists but the pain between my legs.
“M… More.”
He digs his nail in again. “Such a desperate little whore.”
But it’s not enough.
I want more.
I need more.
“Please… Please.” My words are broken gasps.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please. I need you to… punish me for what I did.”
Jude squats behind me. “I thought I told you, you did nothing wrong?”
He slides my knife out of its harness, and my hands ball into fists.
My eyes are locked on my purple-red, swollen cock.
Jude grinds against me again, and I push back like I know I shouldn’t.
“Naughty,” he says, pressing himself against my back so he can look down over my shoulder.
It’s an all-black Seal knife with a custom molded handle. It doesn’t sit right in his hand, but it still makes my dick twitch when he drags the tip over my sack.
I hold my breath.
Jude wraps his free arm around me and flattens his palm against my chest.
He traces a vein, snaking his way up my shaft.
He runs the knife around my tip until it’s out of sight and pressing against my frenulum.
“Does this scare you?”
The question hangs in the air as Jude holds the knife perfectly vertical; the tip of the blade resting against my nerves. Less than an ounce more pressure would see it puncture my skin.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I trust you.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
“I… I’m not.” My voice breaks on the lie.
I can’t see his face, but I can taste his shit-eating grin.
Holding my dick still with the flat of the knife, Jude swipes two fingers over the head. “You’re leaking again,” he mocks, smearing it over my lips.
My body feels light, like I’d be floating if his body wasn’t grounding me.
His fingers dig into my cheeks as he twists my head around so he can lick my lips.
Transfixed, I watch him savor my taste. He dives in for more, his tongue circling my mouth. Inside and out. “We taste good.”
His voice is like a buzzing in my ears.
I flinch at the icy touch of carbon steel against my balls.
“I think I should fuck you with this,” he tells me, and my response is a heady nod. I’d agree to anything right now. “Or… should I do it with my gun?”
My head falls forward.
I’m losing control.
I’m not even sure where I am anymore.
There’s a thud against the wall and both of Jude’s hands are holding me.
I look up to see my knife sticking out of the fancy gray wallpaper.
He drags me back. To the bed, I think.
I’m backwards on his lap.
His hands diverge; one to wrap around my neck, and the other to grip my dick.
“Shhh,” he whispers, choking me tighter when my moans grow too loud.
He pumps my overstimulated cock better than I’ve ever done myself.
“Breathe,” he commands, and I think I take a breath. “You’re such a pretty little puppy.”
Every nerve ending in my body sears hot and cold at the same time.
Jude’s fist pumps faster with each pass.
I push back against him.
His fingers and thumb dig into the soft patches beneath my ears.
He tells me to breathe again, but he’s mocking me. Because as soon as his hand leaves my neck, his arm is wrapped around it.
My windpipe is completely constricted.
The room grows hazy.
I squirm against his grip.
Jude’s breath is ragged now, too.
I’m close.
My toes scrape across the carpet.
I grab onto his thighs beneath me.
“Ready?” he asks, even though he knows I can’t answer.
This is it.
This is everything.
The culmination of twenty-five years and—
I land heavy on my knees with a thud.
On all fours, I gasp for air; disoriented.
The room refocuses to the sound of Jude snickering. I look back at him, and he smiles down at me. “How ya feeling, puppy?”
My eyes narrow, and I see red. I can feel the devil rising in me and my sights are set on Jude’s smug face.
His grin falters when I stand. But then, as if to spite me, he leans back like he’s daring me to move.
The smile is wiped completely off his face when I lunge at him.
He falls back onto the bed beneath me.
Both my hands are around his throat and my weight is bearing down on him.
His top lip curls and he rasps out, “Bad puppy.”