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Not all the Cruz Cunts were downstairs, but as far as I know, they’ve all sworn off the Kings. Hmm, guess not everyone was onboard about saying no to the D.
“A little,” Gunner says with a smirk.
Said smirk vanishes when someone whimpers in what sounds like pain.
“What the fuck, Gunner?” I can’t quite believe my ears.
Not waiting for his answer, I put all my weight into pushing the door. I have no idea how I manage to gain enough force to swing it further open. Gunner’s a big man that definitely shouldn’t have any problems standing against me. So the only explanation I can think of is that I managed to surprise him.
My eyes widen as I immediately see a very naked Rhiannon.
She’s lying on her stomach across his couch. Her arms are forced backward by the rope tied around her wrists and ankles. She’s literally gagging on a black ball while drool drips down her chin.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as I finally notice the blood.
There are what looks like at least twenty cuts across her back, thighs, and buttocks. Blood is literally pooling beneath her, soaking the already crimson stained fabric of the couch.
Unable to stop myself, I dart toward her and remove the gag from her mouth. “What the fuck is going on?” I demand angrily.
The wild and scared look in her eyes vanishes as she looks over my shoulder, and she giggles. Fucking giggles.
“Oh hey, Zoe. We’re just… ummm… we’re roleplaying.”
“You’re roleplaying?” I repeat, not sure I believe her.
“Don’t judge me,” she hisses. “We all have our kinks, don’t we?”
I turn to look at Gunner. “Is this true?”
Something about this doesn’t seem right. But maybe I’m just showing my naivete. In my time here with the Cruz Kings, I’ve seen people do things I would never have thought of as sexy. Rose likes being pissed on, and Munroe likes drinking Rose’s urine.
“Of course it’s true,” Gunner says, smiling widely.
I point at him. “But what are your roles?”
“Stay out of it,” Rhiannon sneers. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Princess.”
Well, I guess that’s my answer, isn’t it? She wouldn’t be insulting her only option of being rescued if she was in dire straits.
“Fine, fine,” I say placatingly as I hold my hands up in the air. “I’ll come find you tomorrow,” I say to Gunner.
He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. We can talk now. She won’t repeat what we talk about.”
I contemplate his words, but it doesn’t take me long to decide against it. It’s one thing to ask Gunner for help, another to do it in front of someone else.
“That’s okay, it’s no rush,” I say quickly.
Gunner sighs deeply. “The things I do for you, Sugar,” he rasps mysteriously.
I watch as he cuts Rhiannon free and hands her some clothes. He even follows her into his bathroom where I hear them whisper. It’s a shame I can’t hear what’s being said, because I’m really fucking curious.
While they’re gone, I look around. This is only the third room up here I’ve been inside. So far, they all look pretty identical. The only real difference is the decor. Where Grayson’s is sparse, the Cruz Cunts’ is filled with clutter. But Gunner’s… it reminds me of a dark dungeon. There is sex paraphernalia everywhere, including whips, paddles, and a row of knives that hang on the wall.
Until yesterday, blood play had never interested me. But fuck. Cutting Gray like that… it was beyond arousing, and now I think I understand its allure.
But this… it looks like it’s taken straight out of a movie villain design. Though I try not to judge, it’s fucking hard when there is what looks like dried blood almost everywhere, and countless spots of unidentifiable white crusted substance.
Fucking ew.
