Chapter 4 4. Alma - The Prison 4
My eyebrows inch up when I see the pocketknife in his hand, and I can only imagine what he’s planning to do with it.
I brace myself for what’s to come. Pain is no stranger to me, as my line of work has placed me in many life-or-death situations, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fear for my life. I simply choose not to show it.
Yes, I might know how to hold my ground and beat the shit out of a man, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get scared. It would be stupid not to. Fear isn’t necessarily a sign of weakness—it can just as easily be a sign of wisdom if one takes the time to weigh their options without letting emotions cloud their judgment. I can’t say I haven’t done stupid shit in dire situations, but I can say that I’ve always survived the shitty situations I’ve found myself in.
“I thought you wanted to help me shower, not kill me,” I sneer, yanking on the damn hook with the last of my strength, hoping it will finally give in, but the damn thing is as stubborn as a mule.
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “I’m not going to kill you, only take off your dress, kitten.”
My lips part, and for a moment, no sound comes out. “You haven’t asked nicely.”
He laughs at that. “I don’t have to ask for permission to see my woman naked. Besides, how else am I supposed to wash you?”
I’ve dealt with a lot of assholes in my life, but this one takes the cake. The audacity of this man, thinking he can see me naked whenever he wants. He’ll learn soon enough that it’ll never happen.
“Now, be a good kitten, and stay still.”
Nothing bugs me more than being told what to do by an asshole.
Knowing the hook will hold, I raise my legs, wanting to kick him right in the chest, but he catches my right ankle and flips me around so fast that I don’t have time to react.
He moves right behind me, pressing my chest against the wall while whispering into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Be careful not to hurt yourself, kitten. You might have claws,” he says, running the knife along my leg until it reaches the hem of my dress, the cold blade slipping beneath it and brushing against my skin, “but I’d hate to see you hurt yourself.” The sound of fabric tearing follows as he cuts my dress open from the hem all the way up to my hipbone. “But if you keep insisting on playing, I don’t mind.” The tip of the knife moves dangerously close to my pussy while his cock presses against my ass. “Just make sure you’re ready for more.”
Trapped between him and the wall, there’s little I can do except go along with what he wants until I find an opening, and when that happens, he’ll regret messing with me.
“Fine! Fine!” I grit. “I’ll behave.”
Lying has never been a problem, especially when it comes to men.
The tip of the knife presses against my clit as he keeps speaking. “Because I love to play.” A shiver runs down my spine, but not from fear—from anticipation, which is confusing.
It’s been a while since I’ve fooled around with a man, and it shows in the way my body reacts to what the officer is doing to me. “It would be such a shame to accidentally nick your pussy, but it’s always better when it hurts.”
“The only thing that’s going to hurt is your dick when I slice it open, and we’ll see how you like it,” I shoot back. Taking a wild guess, I add, “But what else can I expect from a Duke but to threaten a woman with violence?”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Pain is not a threat, but something to be savored.” He runs the blunt side of the blade along my labia. “Admit how much you want me, kitten.”
“You are not man enough for me,” I snarl.
The knife moves to my inner thigh, the sharp tip gently biting into my skin, and a few drops of blood run down my thigh.
“You know what I think, kitten?” he purrs into my ear while shoving his cock even harder against my ass. “I think you’re lying. I bet you’ve never had a dick as big as mine inside you, but I promise that once I fuck you, you’ll realize I’m the perfect man for you.”
I laugh at how cocky he is.
The knife returns to my hipbone, cutting open more of my dress.
“All you men talk about is fucking and all the ways you can make a woman subservient, like that’s our only role in life–to serve men.” I don’t try to hide the disdain in my voice as I speak.
The blade reaches my torso, and it slides all the way to my chest, the tip stabbing me, making me hiss in pain. His hips surge forward, pressing me even harder against the wall.
“Pain is such a wonderful thing,” he says as he finishes cutting open my dress. “It can be used to break someone,” he adds as he starts working on my right sleeve, slicing the fabric in two, “or in bed, turning boring sex into something unforgettable.”
“I’m not into pain,” I let him know.
“I can teach you.”
“That would be a no for me.”
“It’s always better when it hurts, kitten. Imagine being fucked hard, while your skin is whipped, sweet pain coursing through you, merging with all that pleasure you feel, making you come so hard, you will always crave that sort of orgasm.”
