4 #2
He smells so good. Like pine trees and freedom.
“I’m so… drunk,” I mumble, and this time, it’s more for myself than for him.
“Mhm hmm. That’s right, baby.”
_
“Hey, baby.”
Asshole!
I don’t think Daddy would consider asshole to be a swear word.
Well, maybe he would. But then, he would probably be somewhat forgiving of my foul mouth given that I appear to be stark-naked, with my hands and feet cuffed to the bed, and a knife is currently stroking down my stomach, held by a very attractive and homicidal-looking man.
No, not attractive—did I think the word attractive?
There’s nothing attractive about the way his dark green eyes glint at me, or his scruffy beard or chiseled jawline. Or the dark hair that touches his shoulders. Or the tattoos that litter his neck and wind all the way up one side of his face, to his forehead.
Or the twenty pounds of muscle he’s packed on since I last saw him.
Fine, maybe he is kind of attractive. In fact, I’d probably still have a crush on him if he weren’t currently holding a knife against my stomach.
Then again, that’s not exactly a dealbreaker, either.
“Wakey wakey.”
His mocking words cut through my annoying inner monologue. I sigh.
“You’re a real coward, aren’t you, Finn? Couldn’t you at least kill me without drugging me first?”
He chuckles, and wetness gathers between my legs as the knife blade strokes my lower stomach. Damn, I wish I weren’t tied spread-eagled to this bed. His eyes rove over to my pussy, and his laugh turns gloating. But he doesn’t comment on it.
“That’s funny coming from a girl whose MO is sinking syringes into people’s necks.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a woman. How else could I overpower a 200-pound man?”
“Hmm. Very feminist of you.”
You piece of sh...
He goes back to raking the knife over my upper body, from my neck over my tit down to my lower belly, but always stopping before it goes further. I have to force myself not to arch into it.
In my defense, sex in the Arctic tundra was not a frequent occurence. I’m feeling pretty desperate these days.
“Well, go on,” I snap. “Kill me.”
“Oh, I will.” He smirks, and I repress a shiver.
“But you’re so pretty, Cass. I’ve spent four whole years fantasizing about you.
Thinking of how I’d use your body, fuck it until your holes bleed, before sinking my knife into you.
Maybe I’ll stab your pussy first. Hack off your breasts after.
Then your lips. Riddle your ass with puncture wounds.
Bet you’d like that, huh?” He runs his blade over my folds then shows me the moisture.
Well, I guess he’s got me. I do find that pretty hot. I’m not sure what that says about me, but then again, I have a tendency to masturbate after a killing session. I would’ve done it after my dinner if he hadn’t drugged me first.
I’ve long ago given up trying to understand myself.
I actually groan in disappointment when he sets the blade down. But it’s only to reach for my nipples and tweak them.
“Bet you like getting pain just as much as you like giving it, huh? I’ve never heard you scream, Cass. I’ve thought about it a whole lot these past years. I wonder if you scream high-pitched, or low and husky. Can’t wait to find out.”
He pinches my nipples so hard that I wonder if they’ll still exist when he removes his hands. I clench my jaw, unwilling to make even the smallest sound.
It’s not hard to keep my screams in my mouth.
Haven’t I had two broken wrists? And my fair share of stab wounds, and even two gunshot wounds.
My body is scarred, and as he pinches, he trails his tongue hungrily over the biggest one, the one that starts right under my breast and goes all the way down to my navel.
“Good girl,” he praises, at last withdrawing his hands. “Not a single sound. But we’re just gonna have to try harder, aren’t we? I won’t leave here till you scream.”
I assume he also won’t leave here until I’m dead, and I’m determined not to give him the satisfaction of the scream, at least. I wait, my heart beating a little harder than I’d like to admit, as his hands follow the trail of his tongue down to my hips, before raking back up again.
“How can I make my baby scream?” he coos.
“I’m not your baby.”
“Yes, you are. You’re my cute, pretty baby. I’m gonna have a lot of fun chopping you up into tiny, adorable pieces.”
“I hate you.”
He smirks, pressing his mouth against mine, tugging at my lower lip between his teeth. He’s surprisingly gentle after the nipple torture session, and I can’t help but sink into it a little. It has a lot more effect on me than I’d like to admit.
But he sees it. Damn it, he sees it all.
His chuckle against me makes my lips vibrate.
Then he pulls back, and I suck in a breath of air, trying to calm myself.
It feels like I’m a teenager with my hormones out of control.
Only even as a teenager, I was perfectly in control.
I always have been. So what the hell is going on?
I’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice it at first when he sets two more weapons on the mattress beside me. A hunting rifle… and an ax.
“Bit of an overkill, isn’t it?” I ask, trying not to show how nervous I am.
“Well, I figured I’d let you choose. We’ll test each one out on you, see which one you’d prefer. See? I’m nice like that.”
Oh, fuck. Sorry for the swear word, Daddy. But this is going to hurt.
“Pretty sure I won’t be able to tell you that. You’d have to wound me in exactly the right spots if you want me to stay not only conscious but lucid enough to react.”
I should know.
But he’s been in jail for the past five years. There’s just no way he’s got any kind of real training. Right?
He laughs softly, showing me a row of even teeth. “Oh, no, baby. I’m not planning on trying them out on you that way. I’ve been fixating on you for years. I’m not killing you yet. I want to have some fun with you first. Don’t worry, I disinfected them.”
Before my brain has time to process his meaning, he grabs the knife again, stroking up and down my pussy with the sharp edge, but so lightly it doesn’t hurt.
It only feels terribly uncomfortable, because it sends zaps of current up my core.
And yet I can’t squirm at all. The smallest movement would cut me.
My intimate parts are probably the only thing that are intact on me, and I’d like to keep them that way.
I force myself to breathe slowly, willing myself not to arch into the blade. It’s harder than it should be to not grind into it when I feel its sharp tickle circle my bud. Beads of sweat pop out on my temple from the sheer effort of staying still.
“Good girl,” he praises, and I can’t tell if I want to gouge out his eyes or call him daddy.
What the hell?
At last, he takes some sort of pity on me—or maybe he’s just tired of this form of torture and has decided to switch to another one.
He flips the blade around so that the handle is aligned to my pussy.
He smirks at me as the blade slowly cuts into his skin, completely unbothered by the blood that pearls against his fingers.
And then, he drives the handle into me. Slowly.
“Ooooh shit,” I let out, feeling my pussy grip the ridged object. “Oh, fuck. I mean, shit. Sorry, daddy.”
Damn it. I just spoke all those words aloud. It’s been far too long since I’ve gotten laid. Finn speeds up his movement, pumping me with the handle, and wetness pools around it.
“Don’t apologize,” he croons. “You’re being a very good girl for me, Cass. I like it when you call me daddy.”
“I… I wasn’t calling you daddy!” I gasp, panting in my desperate attempt not to moan as every one of his thrusts touches my G-spot. “I was apologizing to my… my… my daddy… for swearing!”
My brain is fried. I forget myself, riding the knife handle, my legs shaking with the effort of not orgasming for my future killer around the weapon he’s probably going to kill me with later.
Unless he chooses one of the other weapons to do the deed. Or all three of them.
“Huh. Isn’t your daddy dead?” He drives into me harder, pushing the handle in such a way that it strokes my inner walls. I feel my pussy gripping it, milking the handle, and I grit my teeth as the orgasm draws near, no matter how hard I try to keep it at bay.
“I heard all about that,” he continues, stroking my inner thigh with one hand as the other drives the knife handle into me.
Oh, God, it feels so good. “I heard how that girl at our school, that clumsy idiot named Piper Day, accidentally fell over a bag containing your dad. Or well, his feet, his dick and his head. They never did find the rest of it, did they? And wasn’t it her boyfriend who killed your daddy, and then snapped your wrists when you tried to kill him?
It’s a good thing I didn’t find you that day.
I would’ve killed you on the spot, and this is so much better, don’t you think? ”
“Fuck you! Piece of shit! Fuck you! Fuck!” By now, I no longer care about what’s coming out my mouth; my body is covered in a wet sheen from how hard I’m trying to stay in control. It’s just too hard not to let the swear words loose. I don’t even have the energy to apologize to Daddy anymore.
And he always did hate it when I swore.
“Oooh, naughty.” Finn pauses his hand, and the orgasm that I had been seconds away to giving in to hovers desperately just out of reach. I nearly scream before I remember how happy that would make him. “What did your daddy used to do when you swore?”
“I never swore,” I pant, squeezing my eyes shut in case he can read my mind—at this point I wouldn’t put it past him. “I was always perfectly in control, his, uhm…” His good girl.
“Sure.” Finn reaches up to tuck a strand of my straight blond hair behind my ear. “Sure, Cass. I’m sure you’ve always been such a good girl for your daddy.”
Fuck you.