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A grin was already forming on my lips. I dug into the back, pulled out a pair of scissors, and went to work cutting away Marco’s clothes.
“Get off of me, you stupid bitch,” Marco grunted as I tore his pants away in strips. “Filthy whore.”
“I’ve been called worse,” I said as I cut and ripped away his underwear. I glanced down, and frowned. “Oh, goodness. Your soul might be small, but at least you have a big cock,” I said.
The massive appendage sat like a snake between his legs.
“Yes,” Marco hissed, spit flying from his lips. “I’ll rape you with it, huh? Fuck you until you beg me to stop? Make your asshole bleed? Would you like that, you psycho cunt?”
“I’ll get to that soon,” I said, nodding toward his crotch. “I may save that for last.”
Within minutes, I had him nearly naked, and he continued thrashing around. It was funny how they all did the same thing. Every person I punished always thought they could get away. If only they fought a little harder, then maybe god would somehow give them a little extra fight. A bit more oomph. Pathetic.
“This is not going to be fun for you?” I said, leaning close to Marco’s face. “But it will be for me.”
To start things off on the right foot, I jammed the scissors between the flesh of his index and middle fingers and brought the blades together. Snip. blood pooled between his fingers.
“God damn it,” Marco grunted.
I’d only used the very tip, just enough to slice the skin. The blood beaded up, crimson, wet, and thick. A drop like a perfectly carved and polished ruby. It was sexual in a way I couldn’t even begin to describe. Like the glimmering droplet of precum at the tip of a cock before it slid home. I was hornier than I thought I’d ever been in my life. Desperate for both pain and agony, along with pleasure.
“Take your clothes off, Drake,” I said.
“What?” A hint of confusion in his voice. “I’m not sure that’s?—”
“I said take them off, god damn it,” I repeated, already pulling my own off.
“As you say,” Drake said, kicking away his shoes.
Within minutes, Drake and I stood, naked. Even the gloves and masks had been discarded. From the backpack, I’d retrieved a metal pair of pliers.
Looking Drake in the eyes, I said, “I’m going to break his fingers. I want you to pleasure me while I do.”
A slow smile spread across his lips. “Done.”
“You’re crazy,” Marco said, his head snapping back and forth between the two of us. “You’re out of your fucking mind. Help!” he screeched the last word, looking toward the door.
“None of that,” Drake said, and he picked up his shirt and tied it around Marco’s mouth, cinching it tight, limiting him to only vague grunts rather than shouts for help.
Bending forward, I took Marco’s hand in mine and pinched his right index finger between the jaws of the pliers. Drake kneeled down behind me, clutched my ass, and buried his face in my pussy. My eyes rolled back in pleasure as his tongue slipped inside me.
“Oh god,” I moaned. Marco stared back at me in shocked and confused silence.
As he ate me, Drake brought a hand down, slapping my ass with a loud crack, and I nearly came right then. I clenched my fingers around the handle and yanked upward. Another crack sounded, but this time, it was Marco’s finger.
He jerked and shook, the gag preventing him from screaming, but the sounds that did come out, sounded like the squeals of a pig. The bone of the finger protruded from the skin, more blood oozing out. Drake flicked his tongue across my clit, sending electric tingles all along my back and into my stomach. I pressed my hips back against him as I put the pliers on the next finger, and bent it back, this time going slow instead of fast.
Marco’s eyes were wild as he stared at what I was doing. The middle finger bent further and further, the skin stretching taut and white. His legs thrummed against the bindings. Drake slid a finger into me, and I pushed the final inch. The bone broke in what felt and sounded like two different places. Drake fucked me with his hand while Marco cried out in agony. Tears leaked from his eyes.
I steadied myself, hands on the wingbacks of the chair, as Drake continued using his hands and tongue on me, alternating fucking me with his tongue and fingers. An orgasm was already beginning, boiling up from deep within me, but I wasn’t ready yet. I still had too much to do.
I rose, pulling my ass away from him. Drake looked up and winked at me. I hurried to the bag, while Marco sobbed, staring at his two ruined fingers.
His sobs stopped when he saw the scalpel in my hand as I turned back to him. His eyes locked on the tool, a keen sound of panic issuing from his gagged mouth. Without hesitating, I walked back to him, leaned forward and drew the blade across his collar bone, pressing deep enough that the metal grated against the bone beneath.
For a single moment, the wound was nothing but a steadily widening gash. Then, as though startled by the situation and finally coming to its senses, his body released the torrent of blood that sheeted down his chest. Marco sobbed as I made another cut on the opposite collar bone.
Behind me, Drake’s hands grasped my hips, and a moment later his thick cock slipped into me. He buried himself to his balls, filling me and making me gasp in delight.
