Page 40 of His Last Will

I eye his limp dick. “You don’t deserve this.” Murmuring under my breath, I draw a line from his groin to his piss hole. The man screams as much as he can around the gag. Begging, pleading.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m done with your pathetic package.” Setting down the paring knife, I pick up the carving fork.

“Saw this and thought it would be perfect for you.”

Grasping his limp dick, I lift it and eye his balls. Two balls for two prongs. Perfect.

Aiming, I hit it in one. Each point slices through the pouch of skin and pierces the testes resting inside. The man vomits, but the ball gag prevents him from releasing it. Oh, this motherfucker thinks he’s gonna go by choking on his own vomit?

I place my hand around the man’s throat and massage the thick liquid back down, forcing him to swallow it.

Grabbing the rope and his useless prick, I wrap them together like a gift. Whenever his cock moves, the blades will slide.

“Starting without me, Ari?” The deep voice comes from behind me, but I don’t turn to look.

He doesn’t say anything else to me, just grabs a knife for himself and spins it between his fingers, walking over to the man writhing beneath my knife.

“Got you by the balls, does she?” Aiden smirks and slices a long line on his chest. “Ari has a lot of men by the balls.” He chuckles as he jiggles the tip of the carving fork, generating another wail from the pathetic excuse of a man.

Tsk. Tsk. “Now, none of that,” Aiden reprimands the man who’s trying to dislodge the knife in his sack. Walking over to his desk, Aiden opens the drawer and grabs something. “The real testament to the type of man you are is what Ari decides to do with the balls once she has them in her grasp. For example,”—Aiden gestures to the fork—“your balls are now filleted like a piece of meat. Meatballs, if you will.” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “Not looking too good for you. I, on the other hand, was balls deep in her cunt not even an hour ago.”

Aiden produces two small magnets. He lifts the fork up and places the small cylinders just beneath where the man’s balls lay. The fork seeks connection immediately, and the knife is now sticking straight up. Aiden hums, “Comes in handy, doesn’t it? All my tools in here have a magnetic layer. It’s high-powered, and now this piece of shit can’t dislodge it overnight.”

I gape at him. Brilliant. Okay, clearly I have more to learn from him.

Aiden looks down at me, contemplating his words, clearly trying not to end up with a fork in his balls as well. “Should we talk about why you ran away?” He knows why.

“No. It won’t be happening again,” I say, placing the boundary firmly in place. “And if it does…well, this is your visual for what will happen.” I gesture to the body.

Aiden pulls me closer and gives me a hard look. “Ari, we will be fucking again. Especially once we are married. I have an insatiable appetite for your pussy, and the only reason I’ve let you get away from me for this long is so you had time to grieve.”

I shake my head, and his eyes go dark, flashing with anger. “No, that’s not what I meant. You will never touch me on Brodie’s grave ever again. Anywhere else? Well… we can negotiate, but it’s pretty fair game. I don’t even necessarily have a problem with people watching.”

His features soften as a smile takes over his face. It’s almost creepy when you look too closely. A sort of inhumane glee. “Oh, Ari… you do not know what you have unleashed.”

With that, he slams the man’s shelf back into place and grabs my hand. “Now the real fun can begin.”

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

AIDEN

“Is your little cock getting hard while I inject my serum into you, Z?” I would cringe at the words coming from Ashton’s mouth, but he does actually mean his serum and not a crude word for his cum. He’s leaning over a bound man in the middle of his office.

Interesting. He’s not normally so hands-on…

Ashton doesn’t take on his own research subjects. He usually sends them to me and only checks in to ask for the test results. The current study dealing with pain receptors has pretty mixed results, so maybe he wants a closer look. This man looks fairly average to me; a little young, but old enough. I would put him in his early twenties—same as us—but more tired. Dark bags under his eyes are prominent, given his pale, soft skin, his cheekbones defined on his thin frame. Highlighted even further by the almost-white hair that frames his face. In fact, the most color this man has to him is the purple ball gag currently filling his mouth.

Z, if that’s really his name, doesn’t respond. Not that I expect him to with the gag firmly in place. But I do wonder what he would say because, unlike the others that are dragged through this hall to their death and look like they could piss themselves, Z looks like he is trying to taunt Ashton with his eyes. Like he is challenging him to do worse. There is no fear or resignation to be found. And if his chubbed-up dick is anything to go by, Z is not hating this at all.

Z’s body shivers and his eyes roll back in his head as the liquid is injected into him. His hips writhe as he tries to get friction on his cock. Ashton watches him with amusement behind his thick glasses. I clear my throat, interrupting them as I step further into the room. Ashton glances over at me as he removes the needle, pats the head of Z’s dick, and makes his way to the biohazard waste to drop the needle and his gloves.

“Is there something I should know about?” I ask, nodding in Z’s direction.

Ashton watches Z squirm on the table until he tires himself out. “This one is mine,” he replies as I notice him trying to hide his smirk.

Well, okay then.