Page 71 of Making the King

“Little one, you may want to avert your eyes. This ain’t gonna be pretty.” Cain suggests to Rose, but she shakes her head, refusing to miss the downfall of her abusers.

Standing before the three naked men who are now looking very fucking panicked on their knees, Cara glares at them, taking the time to stare each man in the eye as they look up at their punisher pleadingly. They won’t find any mercy from anyone here. Not from me, my men, and certainly, not from Cara.

They should be very fucking scared.

Pacing in front of them, Cara eyes each one before looking at the blade, a frown crinkling her brow.

“Want me to walk you through it, mi pequeño salvaje?” Cain asks, stepping up beside her and she nods.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“It would be an honor.” He gives her a bow, before setting his shotgun aside and pulling out his own blade.

Then he starts to instruct her. He goes over what parts of the body hurt the most to be slashed, or stabbed, and before we know it, as red starts to paint the light blue carpet under the men’s knees, Cara needs no more instruction as she doles out her first punishment. And fuck, I just know it won’t be her last.

The men’s cries are drowned out by Cain’s singing. It’s not even a real song, but something he makes up as he goes, singing about their demise and Cara’s reign.

When Cara has had enough of slashing and stabbing, she leans in close to each trembling man, ignoring their sobs and apologies for being scum, as she starts carving something into their chests. One by one, she drags the sharp tip of the knife over each man’s flesh, spelling out a word on each.

Rapist.

Paedo.

Pervert.

“Haha yes!” Cain sing-songs, clapping like he’s giving a standing ovation at a fucking Broadway show. “A masterpiece if I ever saw it.”

“Is it bad that I agree?” Stretch asks, tilting his head to look at the angry bleeding letters.

“Not at all. I think we are all on the same page right now.” I admit, feeling my cock stir at the sight of Cara painted in the metallic crimson of their blood.

Turning to me, she looks thoughtful. “Husband, I’m sorry, but I have to do this last part, and if you don’t want to see me touch another man’s dick, then you should turn away.”

My brows shoot up as Cain cheers and Munroe mutters, “Fuck me, we’ve created a monster.”

As much as I never want to see her hand wrapped around another man’s cock, this is different.

“I’m not turning around, Killer. Do your worst.”

Slowly, her plump lips spread wide, her white teeth flashing as she gives me a nod and turns back to the pleading men, who we all fucking ignore.

Flexing her gloved hand, Cara bends, coming eye to eye with the first old college buddy.

“Say goodbye to your puny dick.”

Then she wraps her hand around the limp member and starts sawing the blade through it.

His screams are piercing, and he passes out slumping to the side before she’s even halfway through, but she keeps going until it’s cut free.

“You look hungry.” She tells the unconscious man, stepping over his body to pry his lips apart before shoving his dick in his mouth.

“Fuck. No, please.” Old college buddy number two cries with mortification, eyeing his friend in his humiliated state before he starts pissing himself.

“Oh now, that’s uncalled for.” Cara announces, straightening to glare down at him.

“P-please don’t.”

Cara turns a raised brow to us, but looks past us men, and focuses on Rose, who is now standing as she watches quietly.

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