The memory of eleven-year-old me—wailing in pain but repeating his revolting script—echoed through my brain, and I shuddered, stuffing those memories back in their box where they belonged.
“Perhaps, but until you’re a good girl and tell me you love the pain—which you’ll say, sooner or later—I know one thing I can do that will bring me worlds of pleasure.” He picked up one of my deadly sharp daggers from off the dresser and approached the foot of the bed where my ankles were still zip-tied to the frame. With almost gentle fingers, he untied the delicate, red satin bows around my ankles and slid the shoes from my feet.
“Do me a favor, would you, dear?” he asked casually as he trailed the tip of my knife over the sole of one foot.
“Oh yeah?” I replied sarcastically. “What’s that?”
“Scream.” He grinned, slamming the blade into the center of my foot so that it protruded out through the top. I badly wish I could say I gritted my teeth and swallowed my scream of pain, but I did not. Partly from sheer shock but largely from the overwhelming, searing agony radiating up from my foot, the scream that did rip from my throat was one of pure misery, and I was repulsed to see Gray’s dick visibly harden through his slacks when I desperately looked down the bed at him. Evidently, he didn’t need me to follow the script after all.
Not that it changed anything. I knew all too well how easily he got off on hearing me beg, and I’d be fucking damned if I made this easy for him. If he wanted to get his sick and twisted rocks off, he could go about it the hard way.
“Perfect.” He grinned, then yanked the knife back out again and left me sobbing. I thrashed against my bonds, desperately trying to push some strength into my limbs. Not much, just enough to break the damn zip ties, a feat that would have been a walk in the park at my full power.
“Uh-ah-ah,” Gray tsked. “You heard what the good doctor said, no bumping the blood drain. Sure you don’t have anything you want to say to me?”
“Bite me, you sick fuck,” I panted, feeling my face slick with sweat as I worked to control my pain and fear.
He sighed as though he’d expected something different. Waving my slick, blood-coated blade in the air, his beady eyes took in my trembling frame. “Now, that blood is earning me a pretty damn huge favor, so I can’t go wasting too much of it before the bags are full. After, though... well, after the doctor retrieves what he came here for, then all bets are off. I intend to see exactly how much you can heal from before you finally give up.”
Circling around to the side of the bed, he stood over me a moment before slamming the long dagger straight into my belly, all the way to the hilt. Another tormented cry tore from my throat, and my breath came in short, sharp gasps.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit.
After years of torture at Gray’s hands, I’d thought myself capable of withstanding any pain, but the memories had faded and this… well this was a lot worse than I’d remembered.
Logically, I knew my body was going into shock. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened, so I knew the warning signs. On the one hand, it meant a break from the cruelty, but on the other, I’d be unconscious. Call me crazy, but I considered passing out a win for Gray, almost as much as if I said what he wanted to hear. So no, I’d cling to consciousness with everything I had.
“I wonder how well you’ll heal if I leave that there,” Gray mused, tapping the hilt of the knife thoughtfully. “I can’t pull it out; you’ll bleed far too quickly, and that would be counterintuitive with the blood collection. I may be a sadistic prick, but I’m not stupid.”
He tapped the hilt a few more times while he appeared to be pondering his options. Meanwhile, I could feel sweat beading and rolling down my forehead as my body tried to comprehend all that was happening.
“Feeling chatty yet, Foxy Girl?” Gray enquired, running his slug-like tongue over his lips while he leered at me.
There was so little magic left in me, and it was rushing all over my body like it didn’t know what to try and fix first. I wanted to tell it not to bother, but of course I knew it wasn’t sentient. If it was madly trying to heal my wounds, it was because my subconscious desire to live was forcing it to.
I didn’t bother trying to respond to Gray. What was the point?
“Hmm, well, just a little more blood loss shouldn’t hurt,” Gray pondered aloud, then gripped the hilt of my dagger and twisted.
“Motherfucker,” I finally gasped out from behind clenched teeth after screaming yet again. “As soon as I’m free, I’m going to rip your balls off with my bare hands and shove them down your throat so far you choke on them.”
The twisted man barked a laugh and grinned down at me. “Don’t be pathetic, Foxy. You’re not getting free this time. Now be a good girl and beg for more; tell Mr. Gray how much you love it. How much you love me for giving you what you crave.” He stood close beside the bed, and I could clearly see his erection straining at his pants along with the little flecks of saliva beading at the corners of his mouth.
“Eat a dick, Richard,” I snarled, spitting at him once more and causing a furious frown to cloud his features. Glaring at me with eyes narrowed in anger, he stalked back over to the dresser where all my weapons had been dumped and picked up two more knives.
“I said,” he ground out from behind clenched teeth. “Beg me for more, you little bitch.”
“And I said,” I panted, desperately fighting the lightheadedness of my impending pass out. “Eat a fucking dick, Dick.”
An enraged growl rumbled out of him, and he raised his hand up high, then slammed one of the blades deep into my thigh. A shudder rippled through me as I felt the blade hit my femur and scrape off it to the side.
“Try. Again.” He glowered down at me, but I was already too far gone to give a flying fuck what he might do next.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I gasped, and his eyes lit up, clearly thinking I was about to beg for my life. Deluded fuck. “I’m not going to kill you straight away. That’s far too kind to a pervert like you. I think after I castrate you, I’ll drop you in a maximum security prison and ensure they know just how much you get off on torturing and raping little kids.”
His eye twitched in rage, and he slammed another knife into my other thigh, glaring at me feverishly as I howled.
Briefly, my stubborn determination slipped, and I considered telling him what he wanted to hear. I knew from experience he would lose interest pretty quickly after getting off, but I had promised myself over and over in the years since Omega had rescued me that I wouldn’t give him control again. I wasn’t a helpless kid anymore. I was an adult. I was powerful. This—this was fleeting. He couldn’t touch me.