13. Chapter 13 #2
The assault intensified as his mouth closed over me and together with his hand worked in rhythm up and down my dick. A drip of spit rolled down my balls.
My heart hammered against my battered ribs. Every breath came faster, and the instinct to fight surged through me. I pulled against the restraints until the chair shifted and the cuffs cut deeper.
Pedro only sucked and stroked me faster.
Isabeast smiled. “There’s that panic. You’ve hidden it so well.”
I shut out her voice and focused on escape and how Mouse needed me to help her. Anything to cut me off from the reality of what was happening.
Mouse would hear enough to understand what was going on. I couldn’t hide all the panic or every sound they dragged from me. What I could deny Isabeast was the one thing she wanted most.
Submission.
Mouse had taken a mortal risk because she believed I might be strong enough to get us both out. I needed her on my side. I needed her to trust that pain and humiliation would not make me hand her back to the monsters in this compound.
So I kept my eyes on the floor.
Isabeast’s hand closed around my throat.
The pressure started slowly, almost gently, then tightened until my next breath stalled halfway in.
My pulse pounded beneath her fingers.
“Give me those pretty green eyes.”
Black edged into my vision.
I still refused.
She fisted Pedro’s hair with her free hand and drove the assault harder. My dick slid deep into his throat. The head caught on the tight ring as he swallowed me down. Isabeast took control of the pace, drawing him up and pushing him back down again.
“You like having your dick sucked. You’re about to come down this man’s throat, and it’s freaking you the fuck out that you like it so much,” she purred. “That’s what frightens you, isn’t it? Your body doesn’t care who gives it pleasure. It only cares that someone knows how.”
The room blurred.
My balls drew up. I wanted no part of it, but the hand around my throat denied me the air I needed to fight it. Panic tangled with the unwanted throbbing of my dick until I could no longer tell which one made my muscles shake.
Part of me wanted to give her something.
One look.
A few words.
Whatever would make this degradation stop.
I could call her Isabella. I could thank her. I could let her believe she’d won for the few seconds it took to end this.
Anything would be better than coming down this man’s throat while she and these bastards watched.
Her grip tightened.
Pedro took my balls in his hand.
Fuck. I was right there.
“Look at me, Lachlan.”
Mouse’s soft voice came back to me.
Will they come for you?
She’d asked because she needed hope. She’d kissed me because freedom sounded too impossible to believe without proof.
If I gave Isabeast what she wanted now, Mouse might decide I was no different from every other man she’d heard Ciro break—a man who promised strength until misery made the promise inconvenient.
I couldn’t control every physical reaction.
But I could control where I looked.
I could control the words that left my mouth.
And I could make this cruel woman regret coming close enough to demand either.
She leaned in until her nose nearly touched mine. Blood roared in my ears as everything narrowed to her mouth.
“Come for me,” she whispered. “Break for me, my Irish pet. Show everyone what a good boy you can be.”
I didn’t care if I died. That beast was going to taste my wrath on her lips.
I lunged.
My teeth caught the corner of her lower lip, and I bit down with every ounce of strength I had left.
Isabeast screamed.
She jerked backward, but I held on until the corner of her lip split before she ripped herself free. Blood spilled over her mouth and down her chin.
The hand around my throat disappeared, and air tore into my lungs.
Pedro pulled away from me as she stumbled back, one hand clamped over her bleeding mouth.
For one perfect second, no one moved.
Then Pedro stood and punched me.
His fist drove into my stomach. The next blow landed across my ribs, and the chair skidded back.
Pain exploded through me.
And I welcomed it.
Pain was simple. It belonged to muscles, bone, and breath. It cut through the panic and destroyed the involuntary response they’d dragged from me.
Pedro hit me again.
My cock softened as the agony of the beating pulled me back into myself.
I laughed through the pain.
That infuriated him more.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” His fist buried itself in my side.
“Enough,” Mateo ordered.
Pedro ignored him and swung again.
Mateo caught his arm before the blow landed. “I said enough. Ciro needs him alive and capable of speaking.”
Isabeast stared at me.
I smiled at her.
Her eyes promised murder.
“You’re going to pay for that,” she said, the words distorted by the injury.
“Already did.”
She stepped toward me, but Mateo blocked her path.
“That needs stitches.”
“Move,” she demanded.
“You damage him further, and Ciro will punish you.” Mateo’s voice remained calm. “Get the wound treated. He’ll still be here when you return.”
She glared at him, then at me.
“Put the blindfold back on.”
Pedro snatched the cloth off the floor.
I didn’t fight when he yanked it across my eyes. The knot pulled tight behind my head, pressing the material against my skin until every beat of my heart throbbed beneath it.
“Pain works better when he can’t see it coming,” she sneered. “Leave him exactly as he is. No shirt. Leave his pants open. No food and no water.”
Her fingers hooked into my wet hair and gave it a sharp tug.
“That Irish steel will either kill you or make you worth a fortune once it bends. Sit here in your own filth for a while, mutt. Hunger, thirst, and shame will teach you what pride costs.”
I turned my face toward her voice.
“Get the other side stitched while you’re at it. Your mouth’s still leaking bullshit.”
She made a furious sound. Boots rushed closer, and her hand was ripped from my hair. A brief struggle followed, then footsteps crossed the room. The heavy door opened and slammed shut behind them.
Silence returned.
My head fell forward.
I shook hard enough to rattle the cuffs. My lungs still ached from the bucket and the choking. My ribs protested every breath, and humiliation clung to my skin more stubbornly than the cellar’s dank air.
But I hadn’t thanked her.
I hadn’t looked at her when she ordered me to.
I hadn’t fucking come down that man’s throat.
And Isabeast had left bleeding badly enough that she would remember my teeth every time she saw the scar at the corner of her mouth.
Darkness crept over me with my shirt lying in pieces on the floor, my pants undone, and my cock exposed to the cool air. I held on to the taste of her blood until the dungeon disappeared.