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The knife dipped below the waistband of my panties and rested against my mound. The coolness of the steel against my intimate skin had me gasp again as Knox brought his lips to my ear. “Stay still, Esme. It would be a shame to scar this pussy of yours.”
“Please…”
He tapped the metal of the knife against my clit, causing a surprising surge of sinful arousal. The twisted sense of desire while shaking in horror, due to my captive situation, weakened my knees. Beads of sweat formed on my upper lip as I focused on not collapsing to the floor, jamming the blade right through me.
“By the time I’m done with you, penance will be paid and your life will be spared. But while you earn your credits, your life belongs to me. You belong to me. I will be your master, your sir…” He paused for a moment and examined my body from head to toe. “Fuck that. For you. For you, my dear Esme, I will be your daddy, and you will be my baby girl. My filthy, dirty, raw baby girl. Yes, Oz will like seeing you call me Daddy.” He gave a wicked smile, clearly pleased with his thoughts of what that would mean. “I will be the man who controls every single breath you take and move you make. You will call me Daddy, my shattered sparrow. Trust that Daddy knows best, and you’ll survive this ordeal.”
He was serious. This man was fucking serious.
“Do you understand what I am saying, Esme?”
I nodded, trying to stay as still as I could as the knife resting on my pussy reminded me how precarious my situation was.
“Answer me the proper way,” he said firmly.
Not sure what he meant exactly, I tried to guess and replied, “Yes, sir.”
“No, you do not call me sir. Not for you. That’s too common, and I can already see that you are far from common. You will call me Daddy, dirty girl. Say it.”
I swallowed hard and with wide eyes tried one last time to beg for mercy. “Please don’t do this. I swear I won’t say a single word to the police. I’ll go to jail. I’ll do whatever Oz wants me to do and say whatever he wants me to say. I promise you that I have learned my lesson. We don’t need to do this.”
“But we do.”
“Please,” I pleaded as fresh tears fell. “I beg you.”
“You aren’t begging yet. Trust me. But you will. When I’m done with you, you will be begging for more. You will beg for my cock to be inside of you. You will plead with those tears in your eyes for my tongue to go lower and deeper. You will beg, dirty girl. Trust me. You will beg.” He pressed the knife a little harder against my mound. “Now say it. Say yes, Daddy.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered.
“Say it louder.” The knife went even lower, rubbing my clit with the burn of seduction on its descent.
“Yes, Daddy!” I said louder as I tensed. It felt good—but was so fucking wrong.
“Say it again and look me in the eyes like a good girl.”
I opened my blurry tear-filled eyes wide and stared at him. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Very good,” Knox praised. “You just earned yourself a credit.” He began rubbing the knife up and down in a slow and sensual manner. He inhaled again, brought his lips to my ear, and whispered, “I smell you, dirty girl. I can smell those naughty juices of yours. I have a feeling we are going to have great fun paying your dues.”
I began to cry harder—more out of shame and humiliation this time rather than fear. My body hungered for more, and I hated myself for it.
I was his. His.
Oz was giving me mercy. My own monster.
There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could say. My cries grew louder and joined the screams from the other rooms. It was a symphony of misery. A chorus of terror. And as I looked at my new Daddy—my Monster of Mercy—I realized he would be the man orchestrating it all.
3
“So now we begin,” Knox said, removing the knife from my panties.
He raised the blade up to meet our eye level. Glancing at it, I could see it was coated with my signs of fucked-up lust and twisted sexual need. It glistened with sin. Knox was right. I was a dirty girl. Yes, filthy. So fucking wrong. I should be screaming. Demanding freedom. I should be fighting to escape, but instead I was nearly coming on a weapon used to kill.
There was a sparkle in Knox’s eye and a smirk on his face as he put the blade back in its holder on his belt. “Oz likes to watch on occasion from afar. There are cameras everywhere in this manor. He wants to make sure that the women are grateful for his mercy.” Knox’s face grew serious. “And if he doesn’t feel you are, he may revoke his mercy right away. Before your penance even begins. So, I advise you to be a good little girl. Do you understand?”
