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My body tenses thinking they are about to use another weapon now that they’ve gotten bored with the belt and baton. Instead, they turn their backs to me and head for the door.
“Wait!” I shout as loudly as I can. My voice is weak, but they each stop in their tracks.
Ace looks over his shoulder, piercing me with his harsh gaze, but quickly looks forward again. “Have a good night, temptress,” he says tauntingly.
They all walk out the door leaving me hanging here, exhausted, battered, and alone.
Fucking hell.
It’s been a week since the guys tortured me, hitting me with belts and whips, stretching my arms to capacity, stabbing me, biting me, and shocking me with the baton. They almost had me at my breaking point. There was one time at the end I wanted to give in, that I wanted to crack and beg them for mercy, but I stayed strong. My entire body was battered, bruised, and bloody. Thankfully, they eventually came back, taking me down before allowing me to clean myself up, and make sure my wounds were clean. The guys didn’t offer any first-aid for them, so I had to make sure I disinfected them good enough in the shower to prevent infection. The evidence of their torture is still present on my body, but it’s slowly beginning to heal.
They have to do a hell of a lot worse than that to get me to cough up any information. I can take the pain. I suffered through continuous pain for years—what they’re doing isn’t any different. The only true difference is the sick way my body craved their touch and was stimulated by the fucking torture they inflicted. There’s undeniably something wrong with me being into it. I should hate what they did to me. I should be disgusted, but for some reason, I’m not completely repulsed.
They’ve been eerily quiet for the last week and I’m not sure how I feel about that. The silence inside this cell is deafening. Any time one of them comes to bring me food or take me to the bathroom, they don’t say anything. I try to taunt them or push their buttons, but I get nothing.
Ace probably has both Blais and Theon’s leashes so tight that he’s directing their every move. He’s got a stick so far up his own ass I’m surprised he can sit down. The man is nothing if not controlling. He’s wound up so tight it’s no wonder he has to torture me to get hard.
The silence though. It’s almost worse than when they’re angry or fucking toying with me.The calm after the storm is the worst.Silence means they’re plotting and I don’t like that. Ace promised it would only get worse for me and if that last session was any indication of what they’ll do, it fills my chest with fear. What they did was agonizing, but I know they could’ve done a lot worse to me.
It takes a lot to scare me, but these guys don’t fuck around. They seem trained, organized, and way too into this for it to be something casual. Not to mention the fact that they kidnapped an FBI agent with no indication of what I wanted or what I was looking into.
That lets me know they have some skeletons in their closets that they don’t want coming out.
Footsteps echo down the hall, the sound bouncing off the walls as they get closer. By the way the heel of the shoe hits the ground first and the lightness of the steps, it’s Ace coming to grace me with his presence. I’ve been able to figure out the cadence of each of their walks the longer I’ve been down here.
My heart aches as memories of my sister and I flood my brain. When we were little, I used to do the exact same thing. We’d be in my room doing something we weren’t supposed to be doing like watching TV past bedtime or sneaking snacks. I’d know by the sound of the footsteps who was coming to get onto us, before they reached my room telling me whether we were going to be grounded. Dad always had a soft spot for his little girls.
God, I miss my family.
Sitting up on the bed, I cross my legs and lean against the wall so I’m ready for when he gets in here. He puts the key in the lock, opening the door wide. Stepping into the cell, he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him letting me know we aren’t planning on staying in this room.
“Stand up and turn around,” he demands, throwing the clothes he was holding on the bed.
“Fuck off.” It’s so easy to push his buttons that it just comes naturally now to give him sass. The man is so uptight, any little thing sets him off.
“I wouldn’t be a bitch tonight if I were you. You’re in for a rude awakening if you don’t cooperate so I suggest you get your attitude in check now, before we have to humble your cocky ass,” Ace says in a gruff tone.
“Humor me. What else do you think you can do to me that’s actually going to work? Your little torture game a week ago didn’t work, so what does the magician have up his sleeve this time?” I say smugly. His eyes narrow on me, but then he smiles right back.
Fuck. That’s not good. If Ace smiles, that means he’s going to go for the jugular, I know it. Why can’t I just shut the fuck up?
“Get your ass off that bed now. I don’t like repeating myself.”
Still refusing to do what he says, I keep my ass planted on the mattress. It only sets him off more, because the next thing I know I’m on my feet, and he’s pushing me face-first into the concrete wall with his body flush against mine. I try to pull my elbow back and slam it into him, but he slides his arm through mine, locking it in place as he grabs ahold of my other elbow at the same time.
“Listen here. Your attitude and the games you think you’re playing are getting old, to the point where I’m tired of dealing with you. So if you’re not careful, I might just cut your throat now and be done with you. You want that? You want me to slice your throat right here and now?” He pushes his knee between my legs, spreading them apart. “Should I fuck your pretty little pussy before I end your miserable life? I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Keep telling yourself it’s what I want. We both know how fucking hard you get any time you’re around me. You’re just not man enough to admit it so you have to hide behind your threats,” I grunt out as he pushes my head harder into the concrete, causing my cheek to ache.
“They aren’t threats. They’re promises.” He pulls me slightly away from the wall and his free hand is wrapping around the front side of my body, trailing down my stomach.
“Tell me, Zamira. Are you wet for me already? Is the thought of me fucking you turning you on?” His hand slowly inches toward my waistband and I know that if he sticks his hand down there, it’ll be wetter than the ocean. My entire body is buzzing with lust from this little exchange and I’m not sure if I should be disgusted with myself or not.
“I think I’ll check and see just how much you really hate me,” he seductively whispers in my ear. I try to wiggle my hips and push my ass into him to get free, but it’s no use. I’m met with a tighter grip on my arms and his hard cock pressing into my backside.
He lowers his hand into my sweats, finding my slick folds. A gasp escapes me as I try to hold back a moan while his giant fingers play with my clit.
“You’re fucking soaked for me.” His hot breath skates across my cheek. “You like it when I'm in control of you, when I command you. You like thinking of all the fucked-up things we could do to you. It turns you on, doesn’t it? You’re just as sick as us. Ms. FBI agent isn’t as innocent as she pretends to be.”
