11. Kaleb
Kaleb
It only took two minutes and thirteen seconds to secure her writhing body to the St. Andrew’s cross, and cut all her clothes from her body.
And another twenty-nine seconds to shove a ball gag into her pouty little mouth and strap it around her head.
My eyes take her in as I slowly circle her. Her body is so small. Round and soft. Dark patches of ink across every expanse of tanned skin. Heavy tits heave with each ragged breath, eyes full of the perfect mix of fear and fury following my steps.
Her mascara is smudged already. Red lipstick smeared from her fight while I shoved the rubber ball between her teeth.
God, she fought so hard.
Now she is stuck, bared to me with her legs spread and her arms strapped to the cross. The gag muffles each word she tries to say. Nothing but muted screams to make my dick hard. Stalking behind her, she goes taut, head twisting to keep her eyes on me. When I round her again, her eyes are fiery.
Loose black hair falls in her face, pulled free during her struggle. Icy blue eyes are so full of fire. She trembles as my knuckle drags down her tear-stained cheek. Teasing her delicate throat, tumbling over her soft tits, her chest heaving with panting breath. Music to my fucking ears.
My fingertips continue down to a tattoo. A black heat, and barbed wire. So intricate. So real.
My hand stalls, tracing the ink, painfully slow, as she squirms and whimpers more and more, my dick getting harder and harder, the anticipation of what’s to come, lighting us both on fire.
Whipping my hand up, I grip her loose ponytail in my fist, yanking her head back. One step closes the distance between us, her soft body pressing against mine.
Her nostrils flare with each laboured breath.
My grip tightens, only enough to make her defiance burn brighter. Around the gag, her lip curls. She refuses to look away from my cold stare, even as her breathing grows rougher. Her fury burns hot enough that I can feel it. Taste it.
I’ve had men piss themselves at this point.
Her shoulders pull against the restraints again, chains clinking with a sharp rattle. She testes every connection, every weakness, refusing to accept that there isn’t any.
The fight she puts up is impressive.
She lifts her chin another inch despite my grip around her dark strands. Although fear radiates in her eyes, there isn’t a trace of weakness.
Only hardness.
Only a silent promise that, given the opportunity, she’ll sink her claws into me.
With her cat eyes and dark hair, she reminds me of a stray cat.
I give her a small smirk, making her a silent promise of my own.
After I’m done with her, she’ll know what real fear is.
I’ll ruin her before my brother even realises that she’s missing. Maybe then, he’ll see just how delicate and weak the girl is. Maybe then, he’ll learn his lesson about choosing someone over me.
His brother. His blood.
“I’m going to ruin you, Black Cat,” I promise in a whisper.
Her defiance fractures. Just for a split second. Real, palpable terror shivering through her.
“My brother won’t recognise you when I’m done.” I bite my lip at the image.
Her brow furrows, and I know she still thinks I’m Kai. Just like that night when she kept moaning his name instead of mine.
Releasing her hair, I take a step back.
Everything I want to do with this body whirls around my mind.
My knife. The night I snuck into her room and sliced her flesh, the outcome was... unexpected. I anticipated fear and disgust. She gave me more.
Her blood was so sweet.
Or maybe my hands. They ache to wrap around her throat. To slap and make her skin turn red.
No.
As soon as I turn my back, she cries out, the chains around her wrists and ankles rattle furiously. She has no idea of the pain she’s about to be in.
We might be merciless killers, but this place isn’t just used for torturing enemy men.
It’s our place of sin. Our place of fun, as sick as it may be.
Pain is the only constant in our lives. The only language that never lies. It has shaped me until I stopped trying to become anything else. Anything good.
This room isn’t just where enemies break.
It’s where the rules that everyone else clings to no longer exist.
Where monsters get to stop pretending that they’re human.
This place has changed over the years.
Ash had once joked that every generation of Devils left something behind. A collection of weapons and tools. Stains. My gaze drifts over the shelves lining the wall.
Everything in this room exists for one purpose; To strip people back to who they really are.
Sometimes weapons aren’t needed. Sometimes, it is the exact opposite...
Fear has a way of peeling back falsities.
Glancing at the girl strapped to my cross, I wonder what I’ll find when I strip back all of her layers, piece by piece.
How long will she last? I guess I’ll find out.
Ever since that night I sliced her tongue, I ordered a few presents for her. Ones specifically designed to ruin her. Kai will realise she’s gone soon. He’ll come looking for her.
And when he does, she’ll be so far gone.
My hands wrap around my first tool. A small, square case. Each step is mechanical as I make my way back to her, laying it on the table where I usually keep my knives. She jerks and pulls at her restraints. Using up all her precious energy.
Ignoring her feeble attempts, I unlatch the case. Inside, everything sits in neat rows, each item secured. Sterile antiseptic wipes. A long, silver piercing needle. And a steel clamp. And finally, two silver piercings.
I grab the other two brand-new toys, in the colour black. Setting it all up in front of me. Seeing them laid out before me, while her scared whines echo in the open space, has my imagination racing. And my cock aching in sick need.
I pick up the wand sex toy and some duct tape, weighing them in my hands for a moment before turning back to her. Forcing each moment to be slow and unhurried. Her muffled cries stop when her eyes lock onto what I’m carrying, then flick up to my face.
Her relief is palpable.
Now, she mistakes this for some twisted pleasure. In some ways, she’s right. In others she’s so very wrong.
I stop just in front of her, staring down at her wet lashes. Her eyes are pretty. So blue and clear. Shining even brighter after her tears have leaked out.
I hold her gaze as I lower the wand, making sure the head of it is nestled by her clit. The moment it touches her, she whimpers. She’s as sick as I thought, because it sounds like she’s enjoying it.
Enjoying it even though her entire body trembles in utter terror.
She jolts at the sound of ripping duct tape as I tug it around her thigh, tightly securing the toy against her taut muscle.
I never smile. Yet the sight of her completely at my mercy, helpless beneath my gaze, drags one from me anyway. Her brows draw.
At least she’s smart enough to realise that a smile from me is not something she should want.
Reaching down, I turn the toy to high. Her entire body jolts as the buzzing sound fills the air and her eyes squeeze shut.
The muscles in her stomach tighten as she tries to manoeuvre the toy off her clit, but it just moves with her.
For a moment, I just watch.
Such a responsive thing, with her screwed-up face, and her hands balled into fists above her. Sweat begins to coat her soft skin.
Under nothing but the moonlight, she looks mythical. We’ll see if I feel the same way after I tear her apart.
Finally, another whimper falls past the ball gag, muffled and drenched in arousal. Those eyes flutter open, and a glazed sheen coats them.
She’s right where I want her.
The muscles in her arms strain under ink and sweat, yanking her arms trying to free herself. She stops with a jolt as another whine slips past the gag, her eyes rolling. Nostrils flaring, she tries to catch her breath.
Every second the wand vibrates on her clit drives her closer to orgasm. The first of many.
“It’s okay,” I say, barely a whisper. “You can come.”
As if my words were the match, she detonates. Sweet, raspy cries and her taut body, falling apart after only moments of stimulation.
She sags, eyes prying open to blink at me. It’s obvious that she thinks I’m going to turn the toy off now. When I don’t make a move, and the wand continues to assault her oversensitive cunt, her eyes flare.
She thrashes against the restraints, shaking her head in desperate refusal. A broken sound catches in her throat. Around the ball gag, saliva starts to drip from the corners of her mouth down her neck and chest. Each fighting breath has more dripping down her cleavage.
Returning to the workbench, I reach for the antiseptic wipe and tear open the packet. Across from me, she’s fighting the pleasure I’m giving her. Trying to keep her attention on whatever I’m doing. Her eyes follow my every movement, never once leaving me as I step back into her space.
Her pink nipples are already peaked. Running the cool wipe over them, she flinches instinctively, a shaky breath escaping. Fear flickers across her face now, replacing the defiance that she’d tried to cling to only moments before.
Every swipe of the antiseptic wipe is thorough, making sure everything that I’m about to play with is completely sterile. I want them to heal nicely before I hurt them again.
I take my time. More time to watch her mind whirl with confusion. More time to watch her come apart.
Only then do I set the used wipe aside and return to the bench, reaching for the next item without a word. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the uneven rhythm of her breathing and the soft buzzing of the vibrator.
Every second forces her to imagine what my next move is.
Lifting the long, pointed needle gives me the reaction I expected. She sounds so sweet when she’s scared. The perfect raspiness mixed with sheer panic. Unable to resist, I watch her over my shoulder.
Now, she’s fighting her restraints. Fighting with everything she has. It’s useless. Those chains have held grown men while I’ve stripped the skin from their bodies, piece by piece.