Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“I had to.”
“Just work on that.” I point to Enzo’s pants. “Will you?”
Thomas nods and grabs the scissors, getting to work. He rips through the material efficiently, and when he’s finished, there are nothing but scraps on the floor. Enzo’s flaccid dick is on full display, and it’s not something I particularly care to see, but I’ve given this day a lot of thought. I’ve had nothing but time to plan how I would do this. The only suitable punishment in my mind was an eye for an eye. So, for everything he did to Natalia, I’m going to give it back, ten times worse.
I drag over the mechanical sex machine I borrowed from the Cat House and adjust the height until it looks right. Thomas watches me curiously as I grab my bag and pull out three huge dildo attachments.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” Enzo wheezes as he stirs and looks down. “Come on, man. Are you kidding me?”
“Which one do you think?” I ask Thomas.
A dark sense of satisfaction flashes in his eyes as he points at the largest model.
“I thought so too.” I toss the others aside and screw it onto the machine.
“How’s that work exactly?” Thomas asks. “Does it just go right in?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
Enzo starts to freak the fuck out, thrashing against the chair, but it does him no good. The legs are bolted to the floor, and Thomas bound him so tight there’s no chance of him moving.
With the dildo attached, I turn on the machine, and it thrusts forward, pounding against Enzo’s puckered flesh. He squeals. Thomas and I cringe. The dildo rams but doesn’t make entry because it’s on the lowest setting. I solve that problem by cranking it up to the max, and on the next rotation, it splits his skin wide open. Enzo lets out a blood-curdling wail, and Thomas gags, but neither of us can look away from the horror show.
“How does it feel?” I ask Enzo. “What’s it like being on the other end of it?”
His eyes water, the moisture dripping down his cheeks, and for the first time in his life, he has nothing to say. He’s still squirming, trying to test the limits of his restraints. His attempts get him nowhere, and eventually, he starts to beg like I suspected he would.
“Okay, okay, I’m fucking sorry, alright. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry. Just quit already.”
I cock my head to the side curiously. “Did you quit when they asked you to?”
He retches again, but this time nothing comes up. “Just kill me. Just fucking kill me.”
I lean down to look him in the eyes. “We haven’t even begun yet.”
He turns away, his knuckles white as he grips the arms of the chair. For the next fifteen minutes, we let him suffer before I decide he’s become too accustomed to the pain to reap anything more from it. Then I turn off the machine and grab my knife, offering it to Thomas first.
“You take a couple,” I tell him. “For your wife.”
He glances at the knife, and for a second, I’m not sure he’s going to do it. Then he looks at Enzo, and the rage he’s repressed comes back all over again. He stabs him in the gut twice, twisting the blade to inflict as much damage as possible before he hands it back to me. I wasn’t expecting him to go that deep, but it’s too late to turn back now. Enzo’s already delirious, and I don’t want him to die on me before I finish the plan I started.
I stab him once in the gut myself, and he grunts, his chin tipping forward as he starts to murmur something I can’t quite understand.
“What?” I squeeze his face in my palm.
“Where’s my mother?” he whispers. “Just tell me. Did you kill her after everything she did for you?”
I wipe the blade on his shirt to clean off the blood. “Tell me where Elizabeth is, and I’ll tell you what happened to Gwen.”
“She’s fucking dead,” he chokes out. “Buried in the yard beneath the rose bushes.”
I don’t have to ask him if Gwen knew about that too. At this point, I wouldn’t doubt if she helped him dig the grave.
“Where is my mother?” Blood coats his lips, and I know I’m losing time.
“Natalia killed her,” I answer coldly. “She’s fish bait now.”
He wails at the lie like I knew he would, renewing his fight against the restraints. “You motherfucker.”
I hand the knife to Thomas and gesture at Enzo’s cock. “We’re running out of time. Cut it off.”
He blinks at me, and I arch a brow at him, waiting. His fingers curl around the handle, and he lowers himself on one knee, reaching out to grab the useless tube of flesh.