Page 87 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

“Just get this over with,” I snap.

A harsh hand comes down hard on my backside. I shriek in shock, popping straight up, only to be shoved back down. With his hand in my hair, slamming me nose first into the hard surface of the desk, Thomas growls and brings his hand down against my ass again—harder, more painful.

I sob and twist my neck to the side as my nose throbs. Droplets of blood slip down over my upper lip from one nostril and land beneath me, smearing the surface of the desk. I stare at that smudge of red, zoning in on it as Thomas wails against my backside. His hand slams repeatedly against me, lighting my ass on fire as he takes out his irritation on me. Violently. Wickedly.

“You’ll learn to be quite more accommodating, MiKayla,” he snarls behind me, breathing hard. “Or you’ll regret it.”

I already regret it. I regret coming here. I regret being born. I regret life itself, but I don’t say as much. I just close my eyes once more and let him hit me. I don’t fight back. I try not to tense up because that just makes it hurt worse.

Thomas doesn’t stop at one or two, he keeps going until the flesh of my ass feels paper thin. Until I’m sure I’m bruised black and blue. When he finally calms down, he releases my head and I hear the tell-tale sound of his belt sliding out of its loops. It’s time. I suck in a breath and hold it in my chest, waiting.

Several seconds pass and still, nothing is pressing against my ass. There are no fingers, no dick. I press my hands flat on the surface of the desk and risk a look back. That’s what he was waiting for apparently, though, because the second I do—Thomas arches his arm up, his belt folded over in his hand. I watch it come down, swishing through the air with a sound that I’ll never forget.

The belt lands harshly on my already sore asscheeks and I scream out, scrambling against the desk to get away. Thomas’ hands grip my hair, yanking my head back, craning it until I swear to God my neck is going to snap.

“You’ll learn to obey me,” he says. “You’ll learn to bend to my every fucking command and you’ll learn to do it with a smile.”

I’m bleeding. I have to be. He broke skin. I know it. There’s something wet leaking down the backs of my thighs and I know it’s not arousal. Tears fall down my cheeks, dripping from my jawline as I gasp for breath. Despite the pain, though, despite the fear coursing through me, I shake my head.

“Never!” I hiss back. “I’ll never fucking break for you.”

I half expect another hit with the belt, but instead, Thomas shocks me. He strokes my wet cheek with the flat side of the leather weapon and grins. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart,” he says.

Repulsion fills me as he then shoves me back against the desk and drags my arms behind me, wrapping the same belt he just used on me around my wrists until they’re bound and tight. Trussed up like a fucking animal ready for consumption, I try to take my breaths even and slowly. I know if I can’t, I’ll lose it. I’ll pass out and I highly doubt that Thomas will wait for me to wake up to continue his torment.

I need to be awake. I need to feel it. I need to know what’s happening to me. Even if I don’t want it. Even if it’s against my will. Knowing what’s happening is far better than not knowing.

“Prepare yourself, MiKayla,” Thomas says as he takes his place behind me.

The firm head of his cock prods my backside. He moves it up and down between my cheeks. My eyes shoot to the door behind me, even as more tears fall. I don’t know what I’m thinking—perhaps that someone will step in. That someone will save me. The door remains shut.

Thomas releases an irritated huff. “You just had to make this harder on yourself, didn’t you?” he snaps.

I don’t know what he means as he rips my head up and then tears down one side of the loose collar of my dress. The back of the collar yanks at my neck, bowing my head forward as it cuts into my skin. He pinches my nipple hard through the fabric of my bra.

“Get wet, you stupid bitch.” His words make me realize what’s frustrating him so much right now, and as it sinks in, I laugh.

I shake my head, ignoring the bite of agony as he pulls and twists at my nipple, trying to incite arousal. Nothing is happening, though. Because there is nothing in Thomas Kincaid that I would ever find attractive. He’s a monster in human skin. Disgusting. Perverted. I hate him.

After a while, he seems to realize this because he reaches back under my ass and slips his fingers around my opening only to find me dry as the Sahara Desert. With a growl, he releases my nipple, letting me fall face forward on the desk once more. His knuckles brush against my sore, bruised ass as I feel him pumping his cock against my back.

When Thomas laughs, however, I stiffen. “Maybe this is for the best,” he says, his strokes slowing against my asscheeks. “Maybe this will be your first lesson.” He bends against my back, his chest to my spine as he whispers into my ear. “From now on, I expect you to prepare yourself. Be ready for my cock whenever and wherever I please, MiKayla. Or pain like this is what you’ll experience each and every time.”

I don’t even have the chance to ask what he means before he sets the head of his cock against my opening and pushes forward. A scream rockets up my throat as he splits me open. His responding grunt as he sets two hands against my sides and yanks me back onto his dick fills my ears. Something opens up inside of me and rips free. I gasp and sob and struggle against his hold and the belt binding me.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking much. My insides are being shredded apart. His cock slices deep, thrusting into me with careless abandon that tears me open and leaves me bleeding. I’m almost relieved for the blood, too, because at least now there’s some sort of liquid to ease the painful passage.

Thomas laughs again. “A virgin?” he chuckles. “How priceless! And here I thought my son had plowed your cunt before now. What a gift you’ve given me, MiKayla.”

Vomit archesup my throat and my hand clenches on the gun, the trigger warm against my finger. I slam back into my body, the memory fading just as quickly as it came on. I glance up through the windshield, realizing we’re here.

Right back where it all started, the Kincaid Industries office building. I throw the car into park and yank the keys out of the ignition. I don’t even bother to leave them in the car—I don’t want to risk the chance of Thomas getting away and coming down here to take it. As I step out, keeping my gun trained on him through the open doorway, I turn and toss them as hard as I can.

Thomas’ eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do—”

I direct the barrel of the gun to the side and pull the trigger. Glass shatters behind him as the passenger side window takes the bullet. It stops his demands.

“We’re going up,” I say, leaving the door open and rounding the car. "Don’t be stupid and I won’t have to shoot you.” Thomas scowls at me and shakes his head, glass fragments falling out of his hair as he does. Blood slips down his cheek from where one cut into the side of his face. I unlock the cuffs and step back. “Get out. Let’s go.”

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