Jules and Simon take their place behind each man tied to the chairs. Lev walks into the center of the room like he’s on stage about to perform for an audience. He’s wearing his signature demonic grin, which makes those intense hawk-shaped eyes even more savage.
Am I drooling right now?
“Shall we start?” he says.
Let playtime begin.
Chapter 13 - Lev
Fuckme,haveIneeded this. It feels like forever since I was last down here. While part of me wants to rush through so I can get that high as quickly as possible, the other part of me wants to savor every second, every cry, every scream, and every drop of blood I am about to serve on these two cunts.
Luckily Carlos was on board. Dima just informed me that he wanted this filmed for proof and let’s just say he was less than happy with the footage of their meeting with Jake. He had noticed some issues with shipping and some inconsistencies on amounts delivered, but they had not been able to work out what was happening. Now the cards have all fallen into place. He was angry, but considering how he has only been our distributor for a few months, as a kindness so to speak, he was fine with us dealing with his boys. Maybe Carlos isn't the dick I thought after all.
“Remove their shirts,” I order Jules and Simon, who are both standing behind each of the men currently strapped into their seats.
Of course one of them starts shouting and complaining, trying hard to wiggle out of his restraints. It's amazing how the human mind works, even though they know deep down this is the end, that they can't escape. They still hold onto the hope of breaking free and surviving. But I enjoy this part. Dima hates it when they get all noisy, but I enjoy them crying, trying to find a way out. It amuses me. The guys tear their shirts open with the knives they have retrieved from the wall to reveal their bare chests.
Hugo is the more controlled one. Going by the scars on his face, he has been through a lot in life that's probably made him stronger, as opposed to the hysterical Mario who is putting up a decent fight. His black curly hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead.
I can almost taste the salty panic. Mario will be the best one to start with. I have found they are more likely to give answers when the desperation to live takes hold with the fear of the pain that is coming. I stand in front of Mario with my special knife that's normally used for skinning animals, but over the years I have used it for flaying human skin. Works just as good for that.
“Mario, tell me, what were you meeting Jake and Tommy about the other night?” I ask as I gently glide the side of the knife down his face, not cutting the skin, but building the tension, hoping to raise his anxiety.
“I didn’t want to be there … it wasn’t my idea, I swear!” he shouts, shaking against the chair so hard the metal is rattling around the base as his jittery movements cause it to rock.
“That wasn’t what I asked, maybe you need an incentive. Here is what I'll do. For everything I do to your friend Hugo here, I will do the same to you if you don't give me a straight answer, got it?” I ask, moving over to Hugo who is sitting in a more rigid manner. It's a lie, though. His rapid breathing and heavy sweating give him away. He’s not as bad as Mario, but the signs are there in the subtle glisten above his mouth and along his hairline. I walk behind him, wanting Mario to have the full view of what I am doing to Hugo. Mario’s eyes follow the knife as I slowly drag it down Hugo's chest before I stop above his left nipple.
Holding him by the shoulder, I swiftly flick the knife down in a slicing motion, removing his nipple, it’s like cutting butter. Trying to hold in his scream, the little grunts of pain that come from him are low and guttural. Snot and spit drip down his face as he grips his lips in between his teeth, trying so hard to control himself. I smile and pick up the severed nipple with my fingers and take it over to Mario. Oh dear, Mario does not look good. His olive skin is so pale, tinged with green. It looks like he is about to vomit, so I wiggle the nipple close to his face.
“Now, shall I make it a pair? I took his left, maybe I should remove your right one." I laugh, having the best time.
“Please don't…please, Lev. I will tell you anything,” he pleads.
They always do.
I drop the nasty piece of flesh onto the ground and look over at Hugo who is bleeding quite a lot from the wound, but he is still holding strong, refusing to show weakness. I can respect that. I happen to glance over to where Aaron is sitting on the countertop, and I’m not sure if my eyes may be deceiving me. He looks like he is on the verge of cumming. His eyes are hooded, his tongue repeatedly licking his lower lip. As I trail my eyes down his body, I see him subtly rub his hand over his crotch. Fucking hell that's hot. My dick starts to rise to the occasion. This is fucking perfect. I am quickly brought back to the room when Dima clears his throat and looks at Aaron, his face scrunched in disbelief.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Aaron? This is an interrogation, not a jerk-off session. Stop rubbing your dick,” Dima says.
“Shut up, D. Let him do what he wants. You seem to have forgotten what you and Seb did down here in front of everyone a few months ago,” I remind him.
“That was different,” Dima says, and I swear there is a sulkiness in his voice.
I roll my eyes. “No, it wasn’t. You don't like it, you can leave.” I walk over to Aaron and stand in between his legs where they are parted against the countertop.
He flinches when he realizes that I’m in front of him. He must have been in his own world. That weird-ass smile lights up his face. I lean in towards him. “Enjoying the show, doe?”
He legit moans in an airy way, his mouth hovering over my lips. “Yes,” he whispers.
I swear you could touch the sexual energy between us right now.
I grin at him and hold the back of his neck. “You can have your fun, doe, but remember you are not to cum. You can only do that sitting on my dick.” I lick the side of his face, needing to taste him, and his body trembles under my touch, which forces his thighs to grip around my hips harder.
“I promise,” he whimpers, so obedient.
Tearing myself away from him, I walk back to the toys I am about to play with. It is no joke how hard my dick is, but it makes this scenario feel more empowering. I have always wanted to mix my two addictions at once, and it looks like that is about to happen, courtesy of my little weirdo in the corner.My little weirdo? Where the fuck did that come from?He isn’t mine. It’s the dick lust making me think that.
Moving away from those thoughts, I get back to work.
