Page 13 of Bloody Savage God
Walking across the shiny wooden floorboards, I pick up the phone in the corner of the room and demand that an employee bring me the toy bag I left at the coat check downstairs. The whole time, Mike’s gaze stays on me. Unblinking, as if he is the predator, rather than the prey, already down on the ground.
He has a hunger in his eyes that I’ve never come across. A hunger that has my own skin prickling with excitement.
While I wait for my bag to be delivered, I check the black armoire standing beside the bed and find ropes and cuffs.
“Sit up and hold out your hands,” I order, turning around to the man who’s still staring at me. He shows no hesitation, which has me a little miffed. Clearly he hasn’t caught on yet that today his limits will be pushed. Otherwise, he might be a bit more hesitant.
Buckling the fleece lined cuffs around his wrists, I secure him to the floor restraint points on the legs of the bed. Down near the ground, where he belongs. Below me.
Finally, a quiet knock at the door announces the arrival of my toys. Perfect.
“Bring it in and drop it on the armoire, please.”
I have no intention of having an audience for what I’m about to do, so I wait until the woman in Club Steel’s all-black uniform has left before I turn to Mike again.
“So, you decided you want a bit of domination, but you’re too much of a bitch to actually show your face?”
Mike actually laughs at that, which leaves me almost incredulous. Most men in a club like Steel are eager to serve a Mistress, to the point of it getting boring to even make a command. They are so pathetic in their need to please, which is probably why it has been a while since I visited. None of them need to be broken anymore.
In a way, it’s the same reason that makes most of thesoldatithat have ever dared to approach me for something intimate so uninteresting. They might have enough balls to dare my father’s displeasure, but they wouldn’t be able to hold their own against me.
Besides the knowledge that I function better when I get to dish out pain to release some of my tension, it was mostly the memory of the masked stranger that had me itching to come back, and now here he is. Ready for me to start the breaking in.
Mike grins at me. “I crave your personal style of violence, and I’m happy to kneel for it, but my mask stays on.” He says it with all the confidence in the world, no hint of worry that he might displease me evident in his tone.
How interesting.
A confident masochist without the submissive streak? Okay, then.
Time to test how committed to pain he really is. I walk to the armoire and get my personal toys from the linen duffel I keep stocked for private play like this. First up will be the ball stretcher.
“If that’s how you want to play it.” I smile as I walk towards him. “Let’s see if you’re worth my time. Spread your legs.”
He has to maneuver a bit, with his hands attached to the small chain on the bottom of the bedposts, but he manages, pushing himself up willingly. This is turning into a power play scene, and somehow it’s the perfect distraction from the nagging sense that something has been off at home.
Mikhail
Gianna has no idea who I am. And it’s a fucking rush.
I’ve obsessed over this woman for what feels like forever, and finally I have her right here in front of me. Getting her to do exactly what I’d hoped. She’s going to let out that part of her that the fancy pictures on their business website hide.
The part of her I’m craving.
My cock juts out eagerly. This craving for pain is a curious thing I discovered when I was a teen. Hurting others never bothered me. It can be fun, in fact, but when an associate of my father’s took me to her car and tried to seduce me, I figured out it turned me on a lot more when she got pissed at my rejection.
When she slapped me, my thirteen-year-old dick had saluted her efforts. Others would have looked at it as child abuse, but for me, it had been the awakening of my inner self. I had stopped trying to get away in earnest, getting her to let out her frustration on me instead.
Shame isn’t something many of us in the life experience after a while, but I suspected it was her first time actually going after that dark desire of hers. To claim someone so young. And she’d let it all out on me.
When she finally rode my cock in the backseat of that car, I’d come harder than I could have ever imagined. Her hands wrapped around my neck and her lips covering my mouth. Afterwards, I grabbed the knife in my boot and stuck it in her neck, right where I knew the carotid artery is.
The feel of her blood on my hands had only made the high I was flying on more exhilarating. The pulsing way the red liquid had seeped out of her had mimicked the way my cock had pulsed inside of her pussy as she went stiff.
When I’d gone back in, I’d grinned at my father and told him she’d tried to touch me, but that I managed to stick her before anything happened. I’d known I wouldn’t need to worry about my cum being found inside her cunt by the police. Her body was incinerated by the fire at the solid waste management facility where my father regularly greased palms to make bodies disappear. At thirteen I had already been well-integrated into the Bratva’s machinery. My father had even permitted me to ride along with the men he’d ordered to take care of her useless body.
Now, with that memory playing in my mind, I eagerly await what Gianna has planned for me. Men who always want to be in control miss out on so much creativity, and a woman as intelligent as Gianna is bound to have something good in mind. Especially after I’ve been challenging her the way I have.
I just can’t help but get off on that sparkle of irritation in her eyes. The irritation that tries to hide the way my defiance turns her on. And there isn’t a question in my mind that she’s as horny as I am. Her focus is entirely on me, her cheeks slightly flushed, making her look even more fucking gorgeous.
