Page 8 of Vow of Hate

“No. I will make you beg for me. That is much more satisfying, don’t you think?”

“How?”

“Let me show you.” I grip the back of her shirt and rip it right off her. She gasps when her bare breasts are exposed. I can tell she wants to wrap her arms around herself but I rip her pants and underwear off her before she can.

“Please,” she sobs. “Please don’t do this.”

I don’t show her any mercy as I grab her arm and walk her over to the cross. The large cross that has binds attached to it. I’ve hoisted many a woman on this cross and fucked them for hours. All the women I brought back here loved it. Sienna might not love it now but I know in time, she will.

I admire her sexy little body. It’s lithe and lean. Tiny but she has a roundness to her breast and hips that indicate she’s a grown woman. She has the kind of body any man would love to fuck.

And I will fuck her one day. But part of the excitement is dragging things out. When I’ve tortured people in the past, I never just kill them within a day. I take my time as long as time allows.

I bring her arms overhead and bind them with the ties attached to the cross. Then I bind her feet to it. Sienna is spread out wide, fully naked for me. Her pretty tears only make my cock hard.

I wipe her tears away. “I like it when you cry. But if you keep it up for too long, it’s going to annoy me. I want us to have fun together, Sienna. Can you do that for me?”

“Just kill me,” she whispers. “My mom is most likely dead. I don’t want to live. I don’t want to be tortured.”

“Mmm.” I think on it for just a moment before I answer. “No. I will not kill you. Not when you’re mine now. You’re not Gabriel’s. You’re not your mother’s. You’re mine. Mine to do with as I please. Mine to have fun with. Just you and me now, Sienna.”

I can see the horror on her face from my words and I only laugh.

Chapter Three

Sienna

Dante’s mansion is elegant and beautiful. Soft grey walls mixed with glass decorations and accents. Dark hardwood floors that give the place warmth.

It’s just a shame a mad man like him lives in such a nice place.

For some reason, that thought makes me cry harder as I’m bound, naked, to his cross in his strange room full of objects I don’t understand. The wall across from me is covered in whips and floggers and what look to be the shape of a man’s penis. I was never allowed to date since I was saving myself for marriage.

Catholicism was a big part of my life growing up. I was taught to only give my body to my husband after we were married. My father was going to find a good man for me to marry one day. But then he died and all those plans changed.

And now Dante has kidnapped me and stripped me naked and has tied me to this cross. Why does he even have a large cross in his home? It feels like defilement against God.

I stare at the things on the wall harder. The things that are shaped like a man’s penis. I can’t tell what they’re all made of but some look soft and some look like they’re made of wood. Some are colorful like bright purple and blue while some look exactly like… a man’s penis. I may be saving myself for marriage but I still understand anatomy. My mother made sure of it. It was my father who was the religious one and instilled those beliefs in me but my mother had always been a little bit rebellious. She was fine with me waiting for marriage for the sake of my reputation but she always thought I should understand some things.

But she never taught about the things Dante has on his wall. Why does he even have them? It doesn’t matter, I guess. A man like him doesn’t make sense because a man like him is insane.

I tug at the binds around my wrists but they only dig in tighter. I’m not escaping this nightmare I’m in, am I? I’m not going anywhere.

My arms begin to ache after an hour of this. I know because fortunately, Dante has a clock mounted to the wall. It almost feels like a slap in the face. Counting down the hours until he returns to do who knows what with me.

I was supposed to be free by now. My mother and I would have been leaving for America the following night.

And now, I’m probably going to die here after Dante tortures me. I don’t even know all the ways someone can torture another person but I’m sure Dante knows. I’m sure he’s done it to countless people.

The memory of him shooting my mother in the stomach hits me and I cry harder. Is she dead? Or by some miracle, is she alive?

Even if she does survive that, will I survive long enough to be able to see her again? That thought settles in my stomach like a weight. Dread curls over my limbs. I’m on my own here. I might have to accept that I’ll never see my mom again.

After a few hours of me bound to the cross, crying my eyes out, I no longer have tears to fall. Everything is out of me and I’m left here, feeling like a husk.

That’s when Dante returns. Four hours like this. My arms are numb given they’ve been tied over my head. Maybe that’s for the best. The less I can feel, the less Dante can hurt me.

He strolls into the room with a smirk. “How do you feel now?”