Page 14 of Broken Empire
The man looked up at the camera nestled within the chandelier above our heads. Then he tapped the very tip of the blade on my white silken underwear, directly between my wide-open legs. “Can you all see this?” he said. “She’s a dirty little girl, isn’t she? Already so wet. What should we do next?”
“I’m not wet,” I muttered, barely moving my lips to get the words out. I was still scared that the slightest movement from me would cause the knife to slip and stab me.
The man chuckled. “Liar,” he said, gently tracing the knife over the underwear again. “We can all see it soaking through the fabric.”
Shame flashed over my face in hot waves as I realized the man was right. I could feel it between my legs—wet, sticky arousal. I wasn’t turned on, though. There wasn’t a single molecule in my body that wanted what was happening to me right now.
I knew it was just a normal biological response. Humans processed fear and arousal in the same way, causing the heart to beat faster and pump more blood around the body, which prepared them to run or fight if it was a fear response and also sent blood rushing to the sexual organs to ready the body for sex if it was an arousal response. This made both responses feel the same with stomach butterflies, flushing cheeks, and a racing pulse. It also explained why a lot of women felt themselves getting wet when they were terrified and not even slightly turned on.
That was exactly what my body was experiencing right now. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t stop me from feeling horribly ashamed, because I knew the cameras were capturing every second of the humiliating experience.
The man slowly ran the knife down the left side of my underwear, shredding it at the seam. Then he reached down and tore it away, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable.
Tears sprang to my eyes as he held the tip of the knife right over my clit, as if he were about to slice it right off. “Please,” I whimpered. “Don’t hurt me.”
He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Not today, anyway,” he said. “The viewers have other plans for you.”
“What plans?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “The viewers want to see you come.”
“I... I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” The knife dangled perilously close to my pussy again, and every inch of my body began to tremble.
“Can’t,” I said. “I… I can’t come like this.”
“You can and you will,” the man said. “You have five seconds to start doing what the viewers have asked of you, or you’ll receive a flogging on camera. I know which one I’d prefer if I were you. So what’s it going to be? An orgasm or thirty lashes?”
Choking back a sob, I complied with the request to touch myself. What choice did I have?
I moved one hand down to part my lips while the other slid over my clit to rub it in slow circles. It didn’t feel good at all, even though my body was wet and ready for action. I just couldn’t bring myself to feel any pleasure from it. I was too scared and desperate to avoid punishment to concentrate on anything other than the threat hanging over me.
“More,” the man in black commanded. “The viewers want a real show. They’ll know if you fake it, by the way, and I will too. Try a stunt like that and you’ll get fifty lashes.”
I gulped down a fresh set of tears. How the hell did these people expect me to climax when all I could think about was being strung up and viciously whipped in front of them for failing to please them?
I kept stroking my clit with trembling fingers, willing myself to feel something beyond terror. At the same time, I moved my free hand down to slide a finger inside myself.
It wasn’t working. I still felt nothing but fear.
“Come on, doll,” the man said, bringing the knife to rest near my throat. “You can do better than that.”
I closed my eyes and let my mind drift back in time to when I was trapped in Beaumont Castle under Killian’s rule. He had a knife then too, only he was able to wield it and use it in a way that made me melt and beg for more.
A frisson of pleasure jolted through me, and I let out a tiny moan.
“That’s it,” the man said. “More of that.”
Yes, Killian, I said silently, pretending it was him commanding me to touch myself.I’ll do anything you want.
It was working. A pleasant buzz was beginning to build in my core now, and I could feel myself getting wetter.
“Fuck, yes,” the man above me hissed through his teeth. “Spread that pussy right open.”
I slipped another finger inside my pussy and fucked myself slowly, curling the pads of my fingers to hit the sensitive spot on the slick front wall. When I was relaxed and loosened up, I slid the fingers out and pulled my lower lips apart so anyone watching could see right inside me.
“Jesus, that’s perfect,” the man above me muttered. “Keep going.”
