Page 124 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

“I know; I know,” I drawled in a low voice, taking the knife out of his holster. “I can’t seem to shut up.”

My hand held the knife as my eyes traveled over his pathetic form. He was so sure of himself, he came here alone. No guard at the door. Just him and I. If I died today, at least I made the fucker pay. There would be no mercy for him. He never offered it to anyone else.

My hand darted out in a quick move and sliced the skin on his throat. The look of confusion on his face was priceless. It was just a surface cut, but enough to make him bleed like a pig that he was. Suddenly his groin was forgotten and his hands lifted to his neck, gripping his bleeding wound. A pained wheeze escaped him, and I couldn’t help but relish in his pain.

Maybe I was fucked up, but I actually enjoyed his groans, painful wheezing. I shifted my body, to ensure nobody could surprise me from behind. Though if I was a betting woman, I’d bet that nobody would come. There were way too many screams echoing down this godforsaken hallway.

“It’s good you already unbuckled your pants,” I continued in a dark tone as I pulled his pants and boxers further down his legs in one swift move.

I shoved a knife into his shoulder and another scream pierced the air. He stared up at me in surprised horror. It was the first time I’d done this. Usually I pulled the trigger, from a safe distance. From the far corner of my mind, I noticed his blood trickling down the handle of the knife and onto my hands, staining them red.

His blood will forever be on my hands.

The thought didn’t bother me. Not one bit. This earth would be a safer, better place without him.

“Okay, time to get to work,” I announced with a dark smile curving my lips. Maybe having my memories back flipped a switch in my brain. Or maybe I was just fucked up all along. I enjoyed this, seeing Marco motherfucking King in his vulnerable state.

He was a dead man and he knew it.

I took his dick into my one hand. “I bet you didn’t think I'd touch your dick like this,” I deadpanned in a cold voice. Truthfully, I didn’t want to touch him, but fuck if I’d let him get off easy. This was for every fucking woman he tortured, raped, killed or let walk this earth in her broken state.

He tried to scramble, shift backwards but I had a tight grip on his dick. “Don’t worry, Marco motherfucking King. I won’t let go of your dick.”

His hand reached out, his nail scraping against my cheek. I knew he got me, the sting instant. It was actually pathetic. He fought worse than a girl. At least women scratched better than that.

I yanked on his dick hard, forcing him to stop moving. He instantly yelped and cried out.

“Now, now, don’t cry,” I said as I placed the blade against the limp skin of his dick. “We are only getting started.”

Realization of what I was about to do sunk into his eyes and he attempted to kick me, saving his pathetic jewel. If you could even call that shriveled, disgusting thing a jewel.

His leg connected with my rib, but I didn’t flinch. Truthfully, he could break my ribs and I’d never let go of that dick of his. Instead I squeezed his dick so hard, he wheezed, then threw up. He attempted to turn to his side, but I forced him to remain still, my one hand on his dick. With my hand that clutched the knife, I brought it to his face and shoved it against his jaw, forcing him to swallow his bile.

“Now that’s a good boy,” I spat out.

Fuck, I could do this for hours and days to him. Degrade him. Punish him. Make him cry. Plead for mercy.

Of course, he’d never get any.

I twisted my hand and punched him against his cheekbone with the handle of my knife. I grinned watching the bruise form almost instantly. I wished I could record this and send it to all the women he hurt.

Bringing back my focus to his little member, limp between his legs, I grinned viciously.

“This little guy will never work again,” I purred, meeting his gaze, relishing in the terror in his eyes. “You will never forgetmyname,” I taunted. “For however short your life will be, you’ll screammyname.”

Then I sliced, the flesh of his cock splitting. I took my time, his screams shattering against the walls. I might end up deaf after this, but fuck it. It was so goddamn worth it.

His member was cut off too soon. Much to my dismay. He made women hurt for hours, taking turns with his men over and over, until they were raw and bleeding.

“Yeah, this was too quick,” I murmured more to myself, discarding his cock into a corner. It landed with barely a thud.

He wailed but none of his pleading, screams or cries got to me. In my mind, I was in a dark room, lost to hate and brutality. It was time to dish it out.

“Stop it,” he wailed, his bottom half of the torso gushing with blood. Interesting how much blood was in that little body member. “What do you want?”

I locked eyes with him. “One word,” I said, digging my blade into his thigh. “To hear your screams.”

ChapterForty-One

---