“Shall I replicate what you did to Carter? I could string you up again and whip you, make you choose the knife you’d like cutting into your flesh. Did he ever tell you what it feels like to be electrocuted? Or waterboarded? Those are always fun options.”
“Do it then!” he hisses. “Stop fucking taunting me anddo something!”
I tsk in disappointment and lean forward from behind him, whispering in his ear, “What was that about not breaking you?”
Walking back to the crank, I raise him up again, only this time, I allow him to have more footing—I’m generous like that.
With my knife, I cut his clothes open, enjoying the way they hang on him in tatters. “Too bad you’re not my type…” I muse. “I could bend you over a table and fuck you, like you did Carter. But alas, I’d be stooping to Allesandro’s level if I did that. Though…maybe you like that sort of thing. Hmm?”
Tracing the blade of my knife down his spine, I enjoy the dots of red left behind. When I get to his ass, I tap the knife against his flesh, the tip leaving small, shallow cuts behind.
“Is that it, Cristian? Do you like rapists?”
He jerks, making the knife cut deeper into his ass—what a pity. “Fuck you, Ten.”
Readjusting my grip on the handle, I slice across his ass, reopening the old scar there from where Carter cut him open during his captivity.
I never understood their need to mark each other up—until I met Benjamin. Now, I want my Topolino to wear my marks every day of his life, so others will see where he belongs. Irrational? Maybe, but no one ever accused me of being in my right mind, especially with what is mine.
“Do you think Keegan will give Carter what he needs? I don’t think he’s the type for blood play, or even knife play. No…I think he’ll show Carter a healthy way to get what he desires.”
“Iknow what my husband needs,” he argues.
“Do you even believe your lies?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Cristian doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t matter, denial is a silly thing, and he won’t be able to hide from the truth for long.
Physical torture would be so much easier, but Cristian is right in that he knows me and my methods too well. If I’m going to not only teach him a lesson, but get him to admit he’s been hiding behind his false sense of what a Boss should be, then I need to put in a little more effort. Psychological torture is fucking exhausting.
“Both Doc and Dr. Ranlen are tied up,” I tell him, circling around and facing him again. “Good news for you, as that means I can only hurt you so much without running the risk of needing medical intervention. Or maybe I’ll kill you. Oops, turns out you’re not as strong as we thought…”
“Are you losing your touch, Ten? Can’t even do what you’ve so proudly boasted about for so long? Has Benjamin made you weak?”
Everything in me stills, and I give him my best smile. “Oh, Cris…you should have known better than to taunt me like that.”
Heading to the pushcart that’s already been prepared for this, I move it over to where he hangs, pulling the remnants of his pants off, exposing his cock.
He thrashes, but it doesn’t do him any good. I don’t hesitate, reaching for his soft cock and attaching a clip to it. Another gets placed on his scrotum, and even I wince a little when he does, the metal biting into his flesh.
“Try not to puke on me,” I tell him impassively.
Backing up, I adjust the dials and turn the machine on, enjoying the way his body shakes with the electric currents. Turning the dial up a notch, I watch as his eyes roll in the back of his head, his body convulsing.
I don’t want to kill him, so the fun ends too soon. Cristian gasps for breath as his body shakes, and he spits blood out of his mouth from where he must have bitten his tongue.
Putting the heavy duty gloves on, I wait a few more moments, until his body stops shaking, and then remove the clips. The burn mark on his dick is rather impressive, and I hope it scars.
“Ready to give in yet?”
He bares his blood-stained teeth. “Never…”
I grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.” I turn to leave. The men currently watching him can clean up my toy, as Cristian needs a small break with his thoughts. “One last thing before I go.” I spin on my heel. “Remember how you refused to allow Roman to watch the video of you torturing Carter?”
“H—he was fifteen…” He gasps—I imagine the electrocution is making him feel a little jittery. “He didn’t need to see that…”
“He asked me when he was eighteen,” I tell him casually. “I said yes.”
Cristian raises his head, his onyx eyes alight with fury. “What?”
