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“Really?” The client angled his head, assessing me. “You’re that enamored of her? I was going to have you fuck her ass while I fucked her mouth, but I like this idea. Of course, if you can’t get it up, I’ll have you shot after.”
This man was Gregor’s equal. I stared at him. If it wasn’t me, he’d get a guard to ass fuck her. “Do it.”
Though she couldn’t speak, Jazmine pleaded with me with her eyes and made whining sounds. I figured she was saying no. I ignored her.
He nodded. “Take the stool over there. I’m not having him near me with his hands free.”
Now this had possibilities. The bolt cutters were big, mean looking, and heavy. A lethal thing if you hit someone with it. I could kill with it. But eight, no ten men? If I killed Gregor and him, would the others scatter? They’d get me, but maybe I could free Jazmine and she could run? So dangerous a situation, so iffy, but it might be her last chance at freedom.
Never ever give in.
Only Gregor had ideas too. They hauled over the stool, strapped one arm to my body, thoroughly, and forced me to my knees. There were guns on me. No one gave me an inch. They strapped my knees together, before freeing my other hand with a chain attached. Then they chained it down to the stool. I had nowhere to go.
Fok them.
I was going to lose a finger, at least.
A guard wearing a baseball cap came forward and took the bolt cutters. “Which one?”
“The little finger.” The client unzipped and took out his cock, began to roll on a condom.
Grinning at me, the guard anchored down the stool with his boot on the rung underneath the seat, and fitted the blades over and under my finger. “Say cheese.”
Then he closed it with a crunch.
The pain was immense, burning my hand, burning up my arm, exploding in my head. I screamed once then tensed up, shuddering.
Blood squirted from the stump. Least he’d missed the one next to it, my logical mind informed me.
I bowed my head and muttered curses. My finger lay in the mud inches away, blood staining the ground. More blood dripped from the edge of the stool. Grunting in air like I’d run a race, or had a digit bloody well severed, I raised myself up. They wouldn’t see me grovel.
The client had his cock an inch away from Jazmine’s mouth with Gregor holding her head in place. He studied me. “Take another finger. The one next to it.”
“Sure. Man, you’re fucked.” The guard wriggled the blades through the blood and under my next digit.
I stared at my hand, said a goodbye to my finger, and had a mental block. Why was I doing this again?
Because of her. I looked at Jazmine, waiting there, gasping and wriggling to avoid the cock he was presenting to her mouth, waiting to be defiled yet again. If I could’ve killed them all with my eyes, it was done, then, in that very second.
When it was me hurting her, it was better, because I cared for her. My sight blurred and I blinked to clear it. I could have wept but not for me. For her. I’d give a whole hand to have her for my own.
I met the guard’s eyes, took in that stupid grin. “Fok jou.”
“You too.” His chuckle ended in blood as his head ruptured. Pieces of flesh splattered into the air and pattered like rain onto my face.
What the fok?
It took me all of three seconds to figure it out, with the rapid thwap of rounds coming in. Some harder, with more boom. These were sniper rounds. An attack.
I ducked, spent all of a millionth of a second on the asshole next to me twitching and bleeding out through a hole in his brain.
Were these good guys or bad? They couldn’t be worse than Gregor?
Bullets cracked through the air. Strapped in place, though trying to keep my head low, I watched the guards spin and fall. The Client was down. Gregor sprinted toward the nearest covered way. He tripped, tumbled, and slid, with blood spray decorating his vicinity, like a ragdoll through the slush. When his body stopped sliding, he moved not at all.
Gone. Possibly dead. Badly wounded at least. Fuck yeah.
I was sorry they weren’t mine to kill. These ambushers shot straight and fast.
