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I bring the knife down and hold the tip under her chin, pointing up so she can’t bring her head down.
“Your reign is over, baby. The old king is dead.”
Sam squats behind her, puts his hand on mine that’s holding her hair, and whispers in her ear.
“Long live the king.”
Her neck is taut. She must be so uncomfortable, but she can’t bring it back down. We’re holding her too tightly, and I have a knife by her throat. She must be in pain. Her limbs are probably hurting from the awkward position.
“Are you comfortable?” I check.
“No,” she rasps.
Her first words in a while. It’s like she’s unable to think for herself since Sam brought her out of his office. Her intellectual capability is limited, her thoughts lasting only long enough to answer orders.
“Good,” I admit.
The knowledge of her being forced to stay the way I put her, despite the pain, shoots pleasure down my spine.
Sam lets go of her, peels the trench coat from her shoulders, and disappears from my field of vision. My eyes are too taken by the sight in front of me to notice what he’s doing.
Rose is only wearing see-through lace, her dark nipples poking through and standing to attention. I take in her entire body. Her tanned skin peppered with small tattoos, that big one on her shoulder and collarbone that looks so out of place compared to the others.
I want to uncover every single one of Rose’s secrets. Explore her and delve so deep into her soul that she will know nothing but answering to me. She will do nothing but live for me.
Her skinny form looks so weak on her knees. Without her height and genius, she is nothing but a small woman bent to my will, ready to be used, seeking the abuse I’m more than willing to give her.
“Hold your hands behind your back,” I tell her. She obeys without a thought. She has none of them left.
“Look at yourself,” I chuckle. “A simple doll too dumb to think anymore.”
She blinks up at me, taking in my words and agreeing by keeping silent.
“I want her hands tied behind her back,” I order to whoever wants to hear it.
I don’t have to wait long before Sam locks heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists.
“Perfect,” I smile down at her. “All ready for my use.”
I let go of her hair, keeping my knife under her chin so she can’t move, and squat in front of her.
“Enough of that senseless silence, doll. I want to hear your screams now.”
And the moment my fingers push her thong to the side, and I run the pad of one digit against the slickness that has already reached the seam of her lips, is the exact moment she comes back to life.
She gasps, taking in a deep breath and attempting to bring her head down. She realizes too late that my knife is still against her skin. She flinches, tilting her neck back up to avoid a cut.
“Spread your legs wider.” I watch, fascinated, as she shifts on her knees. “Good.” She trembles at my last word, and I take a mental note.
My girl might love the pain, but she needs the reward that comes with it. The praise for listening and taking the ache.
Her new position allows her lips to spread more for me. I use my thumb and ring finger to open them wider and tease her entrance with my index and middle finger.
“That’s a very wet girl,” I mock her. “All it takes is a bit of humiliation. A bit of pain.” I enter her with two fingers, not bothering to prep her any more than she already did with her sick needs. She moans so loudly I feel the men beside us shift.
“Does that feel good?” I ask her as I move in and out of her at a slow pace, taking my time to drag pleasure out of her.
“Y-yes,” she moans without an ounce of shame, knowing Sam and Lik are watching us. I give her what she needs, pushing in, pulling out, spreading wetness all the way to her clit. Going back in, I make sure to fill her up as much as possible before coming back to two knuckles in and curling my fingers.
