Firethorne

Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Maya

F irethorne knelt down, moving his knife towards me, and I jerked backwards, scuttling away from him as best I could, but there was nowhere for me to go.

“Stay still, unless you want the knife to cut more than your ties,” he hissed, running the blade under the tie at my ankles and cutting it loose. I stilled, and he did the same to the one on my wrists, freeing me. A move I didn’t see coming.

“I’m full of surprises,” he said, raising his brow at me, and then leaning into me, he ripped the tape from my mouth and threw it into the fire behind us, before whispering, “I like it better when they fight me. It turns me on.”

He wanted me to fight.

It gave him pleasure.

And knowing that made me want to wretch.

I rubbed over the ache at my wrists and watched him stand up, throw the knife back onto his desk, then turn to face me, evil emanating from every pore.

“I won’t go easy on you,” he stated. “You cost me a hell of a lot of money. You cost me my reputation, too. Something I cherish more than anything in my line of business.” He came to stand over me. “I’m the best at what I do, you see. People come to me because they know I can cater to every sick and twisted fantasy they’ve ever had.” He cocked his head as he stared down at me. “And I’m about to show you what some of those fantasies are.”

“Go to hell,” I snarled, and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, I’ve lived in hell all my life.” And grabbing the belt on his trousers, he pulled hard to open it, as he said, “It’s my favourite place.”

He whipped his belt from his trousers and wrapped it around my neck, and I clawed at the leather as he pushed the belt through the buckle and tightened it, creating a noose for my neck, making it difficult for me to breathe.

“I thought we’d do a little choking first; a bit of extreme breath play while you suck my dick.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you pass out, unless I really have to. I need to feel you sucking me, and if you do it well enough, you get to breathe. Anything else, and I’ll choke the fucking life out of you. Think of it as a kinky game of Russian Roulette. If you perform, you live. Give me substandard head, and well... I don’t think I need to tell you what the consequences will be. But just know, when you’re unconscious, I will do the most fucked up shit to your body. So, trust me, staying conscious is the aim of the game.”

I’d always said I hated Firethorne. But in this moment, I despised him with every fibre of my being. I wanted to rain hell down on him. Make him bleed and feel every second of pain that he’d caused other people inflicted on him now.

If he wanted a game, I’d play. But I’d play by my rules.

He kept one hand on the belt and used the other to pop the button of his trousers open and pull the zip down. Then he pushed his trousers and boxers to his ankles and stood there, smirking at me, with his rancid cock standing to attention.

My heart broke as tears fell down my cheeks, and fear made my ears ring and my body shake.

No one was coming for me.

No one was going to save me.

I had to do this for myself.

He yanked my head forward by tugging on the belt and seethed, “Open your mouth, you fucking slut, and suck my fucking cock.”

I didn’t open at first.

I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to do this.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing myself away from this nightmare.

I felt the belt go slack, and I opened my eyes just in time to see his fist flying towards my face. A steel fist that hit my cheek hard and rattled my brain, knocking me onto my side from the force of the impact. Stars danced in front of my eyes, and the ringing in my ears turned to an ear-splitting screech that made me cry out in pain.

He leaned down, spit flying from his mouth as he screwed his face up and snarled, “I said suck my dick. Hesitate again and I’ll use my knife to pry your fucking mouth open and then slice your face on every thrust. Do you understand?”

I nodded through my tears.

“Good. Now get on your knees and do your fucking job.”

He took a hold of the belt again and jerked on it, forcing me to kneel. Then he took his dick in his free hand and pushed it against my lips.

“Open wide, slut. Let me in.” And with a quieter, more menacing tone, he added, “I can’t wait to split your fucking throat in two.”

I breathed slowly through my nose, buying myself seconds before facing the inevitable.

“Remember,” he teased. “Suck me good and you’ll get through to the next stage.”

I didn’t want to get through to the next stage.

I wanted to die.

No.

Scrap that.

I wanted him to die.

Fighting against every instinct, I slowly opened my mouth, and he shoved himself inside me.

He used the belt for a while to lightly choke me as I sucked him and willed my mind to escape this room, to be anywhere but here. But eventually, he let go of it, getting lost in the way I was making him feel, holding the back of my head as he thrust hard into me and threw his head back, groaning into the room.

That’s when I let my survival instincts kick in, and as he pushed his dick right down my throat, I didn’t hesitate. I bared my teeth and bit down hard, as hard as I could, determined to never let go.

“Fucking Christ!” he screamed, as he fisted my hair and tried to pull me off him, but my teeth were clamped tight, and I wasn’t going to let go.

He grabbed the belt and started to pull, but my teeth bit harder, forcing him to claw at my face, trying to force my jaw open as his blood coated my lips and filled my mouth, streaming down my throat. He lashed out, smacking and punching the side of my face, my head, any part of me he could hit, but this was the only chance I had. I wasn’t going to let it go.

The knife was too far away for him to grab, and as I felt my teeth sinking through his flesh, I started to shake my head like a dog with a rag in its mouth. Within seconds, I’d bitten his dick off, blood pouring down my chin, and he slumped to the floor, passing out in front of me.

I wretched as I spat his dick out of my throat, puking all over the carpet as his blooded dick fell to the floor. And then, I shut my brain off, refusing to think about what I’d done as I lurched forward, grabbing the knife from the desk.

I knelt beside his body, holding the knife in both hands, and then I raised it over my head and plunged it into his chest.

“That’s for my father,” I hissed, and I yanked it back out again, then plunged it back in.

“And that’s from me, you fucking piece of shit. Rot in hell,” I snarled, as I pulled it out and then pushed myself to stand on quivering, boneless legs, holding the bloody knife in my hand in a death-like grip.

I stared at his lifeless body for a moment, then I spat at him, and turned my back, before darting across the room.

I had to get out of this hellhole, but before I did, I needed to find Damien.