Page 11 of Sinful Submission

The one holding my hair pushed my forehead into the wall. “Shut up, bitch.”

“Make me.” I slammed my head back, hearing the cartilage in his nose crunch under my headbang.

“Aaaaah you fuckin’ cunt!”

His grip loosened, and I spun around, landing a solid kick to his partner’s knee. The crack was satisfying. These men were strong, but they didn’t have the training my lovers did.

The third one, however, the one whose nose I’d broken – caught me with a backhand that sent me sliding across the floor. My vision blurred as he stalked over to me, grabbed my throat, lifted me like a dangling rag doll, and pinned me to the wall. His fingers dug into my flesh, and for a moment, I saw stars.

“Enough!” He squeezed. “You want to play rough? Fine. But remember… you asked for this.”

I met his eyes, refusing to show fear. Instead, I was powered by my need to survive, and the same hunger I saw in my men’s eyes before they took a life was the same way I felt – thirsty for blood.

“Look at you.” He shook me. “You think your bravery will save you? It won’t. You’re a caged bird.”

“Your men aren’t coming no matter what you say. At least not until we summon them into the trap that you’re going to help us provide.” He released my throat, stepping back.

“I’m not helping you do shit, motherfucker.”

“As if you have a choice.”

A new ziptie was produced and tied around my wrists – tighter this time. He shoved me toward a metal chair. They weren’t taking chances after my little display.

The chair was bolted to the floor—industrial strength type shit. Someone had planned this part carefully, but the difference between their amateur handling and the professional setup nagged at me.

Blood dripped from my split lip as they secured me, and instead of pain, I felt arousal spike through me. I could recognize a transformation brewing. Before Titan, Cruz, and Storm, violence turned my stomach, or at least I’d indoctrinated myself with that belief for so long that I naturally believed it. Now, violence made me wet, as was apparent by the way mypussy thumped. Deep down, a revelation was rising – I’d always wanted to let my sinful nature spill into the world. Holding back never felt as natural as letting go.

I remembered the first time I saw Titan truly unleash his sin. The way his muscles rippled as he broke a man’s jaw for touching me. How he’d pushed me against the wall after, his dick hard against my ass as he growled “mine” in my ear.

“Stop fucking smiling.”The one with the broken nose snapped, drawing me back to the present. Blood still stained his shirt.

“Why? Scared?”

His hand whipped across my face, and pain throbbed in my head. I grimaced and locked my jaw, holding steady as the sting magnified before slowly subsided.

Through the grimy windows,I caught glimpses of more shipping containers, and seagulls could be heard nearby. Every detail was a breadcrumb for when my men came hunting.

One suit who stood in the background watching pressed a burner phone to his ear. “She’s awake.” A pause. “No, she’s...feistier than expected.” Another pause. “Understood.”

I tracked their movements as they talked in low voices. The one I’d kneed in the groin limped severely. The one with the broken nose kept touching his face. The third one continued to wail and moan from me cracking his leg.

They thought they had me under control, tied to this chair like a sacrifice. But they didn’t understand what I’d become. Living with three killers changed you. It opened doors in your mind that you locked long ago.

The sun was setting through the dirty glass, and somewhere out there, Titan was hunting, Cruz was connecting the dots, and Storm was zeroing in. The thought sent shivers down my spine.They would come for me with fire in their veins and death in their hands.

I shifted in the chair, testing my bonds. The zip ties were tight, but not impossible. I could feel the plastic digging into my wrists, creating raw patches that would make escape harder.

“You really thinkthey’ll find you?” The uninjured one who watched us asked, lighting a cigarette. The flame pulled me into another zone. It reminded me of how Titan played with fire and how much I wanted to know why. “This place isn’t on any map.”

“They don’t need maps.” I met his gaze steadily. “They just need to follow the pussy ass niggas walking around like they own shit.”

He blew smoke in my face. I didn’t flinch. “Those are some big words from a woman tied to a chair.”

“As are the words coming from a dead man walking.”

Slap!

The sting settled in my jaw, and I grimaced again, but seeing the fear in his eyes was worth it. These men were used to victims who cried and begged. They didn’t know what to do with someone who smiled through the pain.

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