Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
With a slow, gentle push, I watch the crimson stain get bigger and bigger. More pained sounds come from this asshole, and it brings me pleasure. I push deeper into his mouth until he’s coughing up blood.
“Mm… seems you’re unprepared to get throat fucked, bastardo,” I tell him, as I shove the thick weapon into his mouth, toward his esophagus. Gagging sounds bounce off the walls, a symphony of torture that makes me happy. “Te gusta?” I ask—do you like it—as he regards me with tears streaming down his face.
I pull the knife from his mouth. It’s coated in blood, and I trail it down to his neck, pressing into the clavicle, watching more of his life force trickle from the wounds. I gesture to my men who rip the shirt from his torso, and I continue my trail down his chest. The red line that follows my blade is beautifully artistic. I think.
“Her cunt was everything and more,” he spits at me. “So tight, warm, and wet for me. Did you know she was wet for me as I fucked her hole? Nada más que una puta.”
Rage burns through me, and I pull my Zippo from my pocket and flick it until the flame dances before me. I bring my knife to the orange heat and watch as it sizzles with the crimson bubbling. Once I know it’s hot enough, I place the flat surface of the hot steel against his skin, and I can’t help but laugh when he screams in agony.
“Does that make your dick hard?” I chuckle, warming up the weapon once more and placing it against his stomach. Motioning for my men, I step back and watch them remove his jeans and boxer briefs. Once he’s naked, I turn to Javier. “It’s time.” Turning my attention back to Rodrigo, I tell him, “Ask for mercy. Or apologize to me.”
“I will never ask for mercy,” he spits at me. “And you can go fuck yourself. I got what I wanted. Your whore’s cunt belongs to me. She’ll never feel you again.”
I smile. Javier hands me the metal clippers and closes the distance between me and the asshole I’m about to show just how much I think of his threats. Placing the clippers at his groin, I push each metal blade on either side of his limp, shriveled dick, and I shut the clippers.
“If you for one second think that your poor excuse for a dick did anything to my beauty, you’re sorely fucking mistaken.” I hand Javier the clippers and watch as the final part of my plan is about to come to fruition.
Two of my men soak Rodrigo in the clear liquid. Every inch of him is wet with gasoline. I haven’t done this in a long time. The first time I saw a man burn alive was when I turned ten, and my father made sure I watched him torture someone. The man in question had been one of my mother’s lovers, and the moment Luis Cordero found out, he made sure the man felt agony like nothing before.
That’s one thing I learned from dear papá is that when you love, you do it with everything inside you. There are no half-assed attempts.
“Time to say your prayers,” I tell Rodrigo, before I drop a match on the ground. The flames eat up the distance quickly, and soon enough, all that’s heard echoing around us are the cries of a man on fire. The stench of burning flesh permeates through my veins, and I know it’s a smell that won’t go away anytime soon.
“Quite the spectacle,” Javier remarks. “I thought my one and only friend had gone soft,” he chuckles from beside me, as we watch the fucker burn.
“Nothing soft about me, asshole,” I bite out with a grin on my face. When I turn to him, I nudge him toward the door. “Take a photo of the aftermath, then let’s get back to the hospital. I have a woman waiting on me, and I can’t leave her alone for too long.”
Time to save my girl.
34
Sofía
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
It’s an ongoing sound that I can’t place. I can’t move, and fear skyrockets through me, before I feel warmth on my body. A hand. Someone is touching me, but I don’t know who. My mouth opens, I think it does, but I can’t find my voice.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Again, a hand moves to my face. It’s a gentle, commanding touch, and the moment the cologne of my visitor invades my senses, I calm. The spicy scent mixed with the smell of cigarettes tell me exactly who it is.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
“I’m here, juguete,” Victor’s voice is like a salve to the agony that’s taken over my body. All the things I want to tell him I can’t, not yet. Memories take hold of me, and I can feel the tear trickling down the side of my face when I recall what happened.