That rage transfers to those in proximity—guards, mainly—but today they’re nowhere to be found. An equally polished man stands beside him now.
“Mr. Harris, how are you today?”
Back against the dewy stone wall, I tilt my head in confusion, unsure of how to navigate this sudden pleasantry. I opt to remain silent, face flat, while Marone introduces me to his scowling associate.
“My apologies, Mr. Georgiou. He’s usually very well behaved.” I bite back the string of curses that wants to spill past my lips, waiting to see where this interaction goes. It leads Marone closer to me, but not before he double-checks that my wrists are shackled together and my knife is out of sight.
“Mr. Georgiou,” he starts, taking my jaw in a powerful grip, “was really impressed with your demonstration out there and has expressed great interest in you. Isn’t that exciting?” Digging his nails into the divots of my jaw, Marone forces myhead up and down. “Say yes, Blade. Won’t you be a good dog and say yes?”
I can’t help the tears that spring to my eyes when the pain becomes too much. The constraint becomes too much; my teeth feel like they’re about to crumble under the pressure, but I grind out a short, “Yes,” anyway, just to make it end.
“Good! See!” he exclaims, patting me tenderly on the cheek. “I told you he listens.” You just have to be a little firm with them sometimes, remind them who’s in charge.”
Mr. Georgiou has yet to say a word, but he comes further into the light, examining me and my filthy clothes like a specimen underneath a microscope.
“He looks ill,” he finally utters, voice thick with a dense Mediterranean accent.
“No,” Marone confirms. “He’s healthy as a horse, an undefeated champion. Good for your collection, wouldn’t you say so?”
What? “What are you talking about?” My question goes ignored.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Georgiou proclaims, doubt thick in his tone. “He looks too… dirty. Impure. I need clean. My clients like clean.” He keeps repeating that. Clean. Clean. Clean. As if I can help the fucking condition of a cave-like cell. Blood packs into my pores, as does the dirt crusted between my teeth. Yes, I’m fucking dirty, and still, I hear whispers of buying and selling.
Property.
Again, I would be someone’s property.
The notion doesn’t frighten me. I doubt anything could be worse than this.
Mr. Georgiou speaks, and I remember it can always get worse from here.
“They prefer boys back home.”
“We prefer the boys back there as well.” They both laugh, howling at the sick and twisted things they do overseas.
“Does he perform well?” Georgiou asks.
“I’ve never tested him out that way before. Would you like to do the honors?” Georgiou removes his tailored jacket the second the offer is on the table. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he begins unbuttoning the first couple of clasps, strolling in my direction.
Fear makes it impossible to stay still, but I fight the urge to lose control altogether. Be calm, Cade. Be smart. This will only work if you're calm and smart, but ice takes over anyway. I can rationalize it all I want. I can mull over the split-second idea millions of times, but the ice…takes…over.
I freeze when his hands fall upon my thighs, gripping the torn material of my bottoms in his powerful grasp.
I stay frozen when they are pulled past my ankles.
I’m paralyzed when his hand wraps around me, squeezing and tugging just enough to see how hard I can get. That’s when the shakes begin, entirely out of my control. It isn’t until I feel his tongue that my body slowly starts to become mine again.
My mind suddenly remembers the knives tucked beneath me, my arm working all on its own to retrieve one. I wish I could have seen it when the dull metal first sliced into Mr. Georgiou’s side, but my arm seems to be the only part of me free. Still, I feel his scream reverberate around my cock. It lasts maybe a minute, rising and falling in every octave before it all went silent—not just the shrieks of pain, but the whole world, altogether.
All I remember from that moment is a flash of a concrete slab coming down on the top of my head. I thought my world ended, but when I woke, all was as it was before—only, I looked a little more impure now.
Massaging the strip that is barely healed, Bunny hums a quiet tune. Her fingers trace every discovered scar and fresh wound, from scalp to neck, stopping only to swear, “I’m going to kill him for this.” Eyeing the bullet hole, “And this.”
I don’t doubt Bunny for a second. There’s a fire that rages inside her. It’s the same flame that kept me alive, and though I may no longer need to burn, I will make sure to give her everything she asks for.
Sucking on her pulsing clit, I nod in thanks, vowing to deliver each one of them to her feet.
“Promise?” she asks, out of breath. I respond with a long sweep of my tongue across her opening, swallowing every drop of her juices, with a wide Cheshire grin. Knees buckling, Bunny lays all her weight on me, trusting that I’ll keep her steady with fingernails embedded into my skin. My fingers dig into her as well, clenching the soft muscle around her thighs while I spear her pussy.
