Page 10 of Death By Chocolate

He lowers his head. We’re nose to nose. “Say that shit to my face, bitch.”

Fuck this bastard. “Take your ring off my fucking finger,” I scream. “You ass bitch, broke dick motherfucker.”

He chuckled. “Never,” he hisses. “Till death, Daniella. I own your body, your soul. I’m your first and your last. That fucking smart ass mouth, it’s mine, bitch.”

Slowly, he starts to undo his belt. “Get on your fucking knees, Daniella. I’mma wash your mouth out with my fucking nut.”

He smiles when I wobble, then kneel. He juts his stiff cock at my closed lips.

“Open up. Suck and don’t fuck up. You bite me this time; I’ll carve a snake on your forehead.”

Careful to keep my face blank, I give my best performance of a good little wife. He watches as I part my lips. My eyes stay glued to his face, looking, looking, but then I hear his deep exhale.

Strike now.

I bury my teeth in his inner thigh. At the same time, I drive the heel of my palm into his nut sack. “Awww, you, bitch. Shit.” His knee buckles before he lurches backward. “Let go, bitch,” he bellows, the words are strangled, with a broken rhythm of high squeals and low groans.

Then one of his pained grunts ignited an insane like glee within me. Happiness erupted in my heart, spreading heat, a dormant volcano of emotion once buried, erupting with force, cracking a hole in barren earth, reclaiming what was.

There’s blood. I taste the sweet liquid, unlike his thick cum, against my tongue. It’s delicious, filling me beyond meat and potatoes. His screams are precious revenge. Even as he rains blows down on my head. One lands on my shoulder. Another lands on the back of my neck.

I’m pounding his nuts, trying like hell has no fury to make creamy nut butter for the first time.

We’re down, and I revel in the equality of it all. But not for long. I scrabble to the bedroom door, my run to freedom. The handle, I yank it. Nothing. Again, I pull.

He’s there, slamming me against the door, forcing my bruised thighs apart. He wiggles the fingers on his right hand in my face. “I bio-locked us in for the night, wife. Maybe I’ll bring a Friend.”

My pulse spikes with the mention of Oscar’s albino boa constrictor slithering over my naked body. I hate snakes. But I no longer fear them. “Sorry,” I choke out, hungry for air. “I-I’ll be—good.”

“You better be, bitch,” he spits, baring his teeth, “or I’ll light a fire.”

Nightmares, the sick scent of cooked flesh, and knee-buckling pain slam into me harder than Oscar’s prison yard bulk.

He won’t win this round, maybe I won’t either. Tonight’s meal came with a steak knife. With my free hand, I grip the handle at my back, pulling it free of my panties. My mother’s words give me courage.Your Daddy may keep you safe. I teach you will keep you alive.

Daniella must die. But, like a phoenix from the ash, that Da’bitch Dani will live, and she will exorcise her demons.

With a warrior’s cry, I find the pulse that powers the monster. I deliver the first strike to Oscar’s jugular. Plunging the blade deep before wrenching it free. Blood sprays my face, a warm, cleansing rain. “Get the fuck, off of me.”

I scream. And scream. And scream. The monsters who live inside these walls have heard my strangled sobs for many years.

They won’t come.

No one will come.

Fuck them, the voice says.

With a gleeful grin, Dani uses her blade again—shredding, stabbing, sawing. She looks over at Friend, coiled across his hanging bridge. Another slithering extension of Oscar, she’d hack to pieces before her departure. “You’re next, albino bastard.”

Again, Dani—fearless, savage, brave—smiles.

But, Daniella, the princess who dreamed of a daring hero coming to her rescue—screams.

5

DANI

AND I AM TELLING YOU I’M NOT GOING

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