9. Dante

CHAPTER 9

DANTE

Her pretty mouth drops open as she looks at the tribute to me that I cut into her skin, but the devastation I counted on never follows. I would almost describe her gaze as pleased.

"It's pretty," she murmurs, but that only means she's a better actress than I thought.

Who would be pleased to be marked by a monster?

I slap the wounds with an open palm, and she sobs, open-mouthed. Tears cover her pretty cheeks. Simply for my entertainment, I push her so her body sways. Still, she holds firm to her lies.

"I'll do anything to make it up to you, but I can't take swinging like this anymore. Please cut me down. I'm going to be sick."

That would add nicely to her humiliation. I push her again, and her tits and ass look incredible wrapped in rope, delicious as they sway past me.

"What if I wanted you to stay there to make it up to me? What if hanging there forever was how I wanted you to atone?"

That scares her, eyes widening and lips parting on a pant, but she swallows her initial reaction. "Fine. Whatever you want, Dante."

She looks down, staring at the cuts I've put on her, still not reacting the way I want.

"You're not going to beg?"

"Beg for what?"

"Your life?"

"It's yours now."

"You're giving it to me, or I'm taking it?"

"I said anything, Dante, and I suppose this isn't much in the grand scheme of things." She turns slightly green from the motion sickness, and sympathy swamps me.

I'm being unduly influenced by that false innocence I saw on her face while she was unconscious. By how good she felt when I fucked her repeatedly without her consent. The illusion of sincerity on her perfect face terrifies me.

I take the knife I used to carve my initial into her leg and unceremoniously saw the rope holding her up. She slams to the ground with only one foot free and unable to balance her. The other is bent at the knee and pressed against her calf in a useless position.

She flounders in front of me, her ass on display, and her cheek pressed into the cold floor. I smile at the sight. I'd like that to be where the sensation stops, but then the strangest hint of something like regret runs through me. It can't be that though because I would never feel bad for my little backstabber.

I pull my cock out of my pants and give it a couple of strokes, the fact we have an audience is almost meaningless to me. It's like she's the only person to exist. I've felt that way since the moment I killed Rosario, leaving only her to die.

My hope that their presence makes this worse for her goes up in flames as she stares at me. She seems like she might be as distracted as I am. It would be a shame for all these theatrics to be a wasted effort. The least I can do is fuck her face in front of them.

I grab her by her hair, yanking her body up, not caring how she bends and twists and whines. Her body is a mottled combination of red and white, with blood and rope burn—stunning. She arches as far as she can with the rope binding her, bending to my will.

When I force her head to my groin, I expect more resistance, but she's a whore through and through. She opens her mouth wide, expecting me to slide down her throat, but instead, I spit right on her tongue.

"Oh my god, I'm gonna fucking hurl," some girl says from the audience, and she's lucky I don't see her face.

I'm surprised by the protective flare of rage even if it's not the first time I've felt it tonight. I want Tatiana humiliated, but all of a sudden it feels like the wrong type of humiliation. I don't want people looking at her who call her disgusting.

"Would you like to be next?" It's not a genuine offer, I don't want to fuck her, but I might enjoy hacking her to pieces.

The girl screams and runs away, and much to my surprise, Tatiana pouts. She closes her mouth with my spit still on her tongue, not even attempting to remove it, and I hate to admit how much I enjoy that.

"Are you jealous?" I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me, and shoot her absurd question back at her.

"Please put your cock in my mouth."

"Were you jealous thinking about another girl in your position right now?"

I squeeze harder and give her a shake. Her lip raises in a little snarl.

"You've already hurt and humiliated me. What else do you need? Just give me your cock, Dante."

"Only if you tell the truth, Little Backstabber. Why are you upset? This is the first time tonight you've pouted."

I trace the pearly head over her lips, enjoying the way they shine with my pre-cum like it's gloss. No good ever comes out of this pretty, lying mouth, but fuck, can it make you feel good.

"The idea of another woman with you makes me fucking crazy."

She sticks out her tongue even farther to taste my head. The soft swipe jerks a small bead of cum out of my cock, and I can't help my soft groan.

I don't tell her that she's the first woman who's gotten my dick hard in two years or explain to her that when she's near me the constant pain dulls and feels further away, perhaps a devil on my shoulder rather than touching every part of me. I don't care about people in the room or the scene I've intentionally set up to humiliate her. All I care about is the feeling of her tongue on my dick.

We must've both gone insane, because there's no reason for this hatred, animosity, and betrayal to form into something more. There's no reason for her to feel so good around me. I fucking hate her.

I do hate her.

But maybe I need her too. I haven't felt alive in two years, and I need to play with her a little bit longer before I kill her and I'm dead again. She can't get away with what she's done just because she's the only thing left that makes me feel whole. My feelings aren't more important than justice. She has to pay, but in the back of my mind sits the fear of what I'll become when I have no revenge left.

"All I know is you're mine until you die. No one but me will ever touch you. That means I'm yours too."

"But I'm still going to die?" She closes her eyes, waiting for my response.

"Of course. There's no changing that now." My hand remains tangled in her hair, but I don't have it in me to yank it anymore.

The slightest tightening crinkles the corner of her eyes and the edges of her mouth as delicate tear runs down her cheek, but she swallows, stowing her pain.

"Okay, I understand." She nods repeatedly, and something about the action makes her seem like a small helpless child, but that's even more dangerous than assuming innocence of her. "Then let me suck your cock, and you decide when I die."

"This shit is depressing," someone comments.

I agree.

"Fuck her face!" another whoops. My initial instinct is to kill him, but sometimes you have to give the audience what they want.

Pushing my cock against her hot, wet tongue, I slide quickly to the back of her throat. I have no desire to take anything slow. She owes me hard, fast—however and whatever I want. Her mouth slurps around my cock, like she wants this. Like my cock down her throat turns her on.

She closes her lips tight around me, and the suction draws my balls up to my body. I don't remember head feeling this good, but there have been so few things in the intervening years that I've enjoyed. The sensation of pleasure is just more acute now, it's not that her tongue and lips are perfect.

She grunts as she leans forward, pulling my cock as deeply down her throat as possible. Once there, she swallows around my head, nearly drawing my cum out of me in one move.

She requires little coaxing and uses what leverage she has over her tied body to work and suck my cock like her life depends on it. I use her hair to hold her in place.

I could fuck her throat, but she's trying to make this up to me. It makes how hard she tries to suck my cock all the sweeter. I close my eyes and gently nudge my hips to get even farther down her throat as she tries her best to swallow me to my base. Is she actually sorry?

"Take a deep breath," I say, and push, working past her resistance.

I shove my other hand into her hair, the good and the bad, and for once, they don't feel all that different with those silky, soft strands between them. When I pull it, she moans.

"You like sucking monster dick?"

"Not a monster," she mumbles around me.

"Then what the fuck am I?" It's starting to bother me that she keeps saying shit like that.

I pull her off my cock so she can answer.

"You're just a man, Dante. Scarred and fucked up but human."

I shove my cock back down her throat to prove she's wrong, rougher this time, pulling her hair by the roots as tight as possible and making it hurt more than I need to.

"What do you call this, then?"

She doesn't answer, she can't. She just tears up and gags around my length battering the back of her throat.

When she moans, the vibrations move up my shaft and into my balls. My self-hatred flares, but the sound of her being pleased with my taste is too good to resist. My cum shoots straight down her throat, and I continue pumping my hips until every drop of my orgasm is spent and she's gagging and drooling in a stream down her pitiful chin.

I look up, my orgasm still pounding in my veins, and find someone standing a little bit too close, watching a little too hard. When she takes another step forward, switching herself out of the shadows and into the spotlight, her mouth drops open.

It's clear Katie recognizes me from the party. Maybe she recognizes Tatiana too, but I can't be certain as she's facing her back. She scrambles for something to say, but eventually closes her mouth and walks away. Smart girl.

I don't say anything to Tatiana, letting this bit of shame stew to deliver later. This will hurt her worse than all the people watching, and I can't wait to break her.