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It's one thing to enjoy cutting if it's being done sexually. I've never done blood play. I'm sure others who do, enjoy it, but this is a different kind of fucked up. He's making me bleed for shits and giggles, making it all the more dangerous because he won't care if I bleed out.
He walks over and turns the television on, then the video camera, grinning at me the whole time. Stalking around to where I'm sitting, he caresses my cheek with the back of his leather-gloved fingers, “Let's play.”
I stare into the camera, trying to convey something to the Lords. I'm unsure what that is, but I want them to know I'm trying to be strong. I'm sure they're pissed at me for getting into this mess...I'm pissed at myself; I should have known better. I've always said that I wouldn't be that ditzy blonde who walks into danger and look where I'm at.
“Good morning, Sinners!” The fucker's robotic voice cuts into my thoughts, “I see that some are not taking my threats seriously. Either that or this slut means nothing to all of you.”
I growl behind the tape and try to move away from him when his hand comes up and pulls my hair back behind my shoulders as he stands behind me again. I can see him on the screen, but his head is cut off again.
When his hands slide over my shoulders and stop over the two wounds he made last time, my heart stops, “As I said yesterday, every day that goes by, your little whore will receive another cut...after I reopen her old ones.”
Before I realize what he's doing, pain streaks through my chest where he had cut me, “MMPH!!” I scream through the tape, but he isn't finished as he does the same to the other cut. He's ripped open the first cuts he glued.
“She bleeds so pretty, don't you think?” He uses his hand and smears my blood all over my upper chest. “Now, let's see how well your whore really takes pain, shall we?”
I watch on the television as the asshole wraps a strap around my forehead and ties it to the back of the chair. I can no longer look down, but I can still see the screen. Once he's done, he moves to stand before me, then squats; his hand caressing the bare skin on my midsection.
“This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I suggest you sit still; otherwise, I may go too deep,” he fucking chuckles and begins.
It starts as a burning pain and quickly escalates the longer he keeps going. There are times when he retraces over whatever it is he's doing until I feel wetness drip. If it doesn't bleed right the first time, he retraces it. I hold as still as possible, but I can't help the scream that comes out at each new cut he gives me. My face is soaked with tears, and I can feel my nose begin to run.
He chuckles and stands up, stepping back to admire his handiwork, “Fucking gorgeous! You are such a mess but look how hard I am, Cat.” He grabs his package, but I close my eyes, “Awe, do you think I'm going to fuck you? Ha! I don't want the Lord's sloppy seconds, and I already told you that I don't take women against their will, sexually,” another chuckle comes out, “Besides, you're marked as the Lord's whore, and I wouldn't dare fuck what is theirs.” He finally moves away, and I open my eyes to see the words 'Whore of Sin, Property of the Lords'carved into my mid-section. “Well, what do you think?” he whispers in my ear.
Tears and snot streak my face as he grips my jaw and turns back to the camera, “The next time, I will carve up this pretty little face! Time is ticking, boys...”
He goes and turns the television and camera off. I'm expecting another blow to my head like last time, but nothing comes; he must be on his own today. When he rips the tape from my mouth and shoves a pill into it, he glares at me in a warning. He then brings a bottle of water to my lips, and I take a drink. I sputter and cough, but eventually, I get the water down.
“That's a good girl,” he then releases my head, “I will be right back with the glue to close those chest wounds.”
I wait until he closes the door behind him, pretending to stretch my neck in case someone watches the camera. When I turn my head opposite the camera, I spit out the pill and watch it roll into the room's shadows.
My head is slumpedover when I hear him return. Making sure my breathing is slow and steady, I pretend to be passed out from the drug he gave me. I've only got one chance to get this right, or he will probably kill me. I'm not even sure if anyone else is here, but it doesn't matter; I have to try.
“Stupid bitch,” I hear him say before there is a sting to my cheek, “Out like a light.”
Thank God I'm able to remain still when he slaps me in the face. I just let my head flop around as if I were passed out. I want to smile when I feel him cutting the tape from around my leg. He knicks me with the knife, but again, I don't react.
“What's one more cut?” he says amusedly before going around to remove the tape from my wrists behind the chair.
I have to wait before doing anything because my limbs are so numb that if I try anything, I will fail. So, I suffer through the fact that this fucker lays me on the cold cement floor and strips me down. Surprisingly, he really doesn't touch me inappropriately. He washes the blood from my body and cleans my face before redressing me. He's smarter this time as I feel the draft in my crotch, knowing he's already cut it out for bathroom use.
He doesn't move me right away, but I don't dare try to open my eyes yet. It's not until I hear him moving the bucket from under the chair and hear his footsteps recede that I crack one eye open. The guy doesn't leave the room but does walk over to the door and sets the bucket outside as he grabs another one.
During this time, I notice how close I am to the cart, and hope soars as I start thinking of my next move. I wait until he's cleaned the chair of my blood and then comes to stand over me. Even with my eyes closed, I feel his stare on me, and I wonder what he's thinking about.
“It's a shame. All they have to do is come clean. Tell the truth about what they did, and all of this can be over.” I want him to keep talking to see if he reveals anything more, but then his hands lift me under my armpits.
This is my chance. I take a deep breath and then put my weight on my feet. I'm still a bit weak, but I can stand. Startling him, I bring my knee up and slam it into his groin, causing him to let go of me, and when he bends over enough, I head butt him in the nose. The fucker drops like a rock.
“YOU FUCKING LITTLE BITCH!” He grabs both his groin and his nose at the same time as he lies on the floor.
Stumbling over to the tray, I fall into it, knocking it and all its contents onto the floor. I curse and go to crawl over to one of the scalpels when his hand reaches out, gripping my ankle. I struggle to get him to remove his hand, and when he brings his other hand up, I kick out hard, hitting him in the face again.
“I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU FOR THIS!” he screams.
A sharp pain slices through my hand as it finds one of the scalpels, but I don't care. My adrenaline is on overdrive as I grip the small blade and swing it at my kidnapper. I feel it make contact, and he curses. It's not enough. I lift my hand and bring it down again and again. I am fueled by rage, and I can't stop.
His hand finally grabs my wrist and squeezes, making me drop the scalpel. He backhands me, and I fly backward, hitting the turned-over cart. I crawl further away and see a hunting knife close by. Snatching that up, I return to him and straddle him as he lays on his back.
