Page 48 of Viripotent

It’s not an outright lie, and she undoes my button glaring up at me. She’s careful not to touch my dick as she lowers my zipper with her nostrils flaring and murder is facing off against me.

“I might as well get a sample of how disappointed I’ll be once we’re married.”

Like fuck she’ll be disappointed, we’ve already established what she wants despite her earlier lie.

My hand moves without me thinking and I hold her wrist pushing her hand into my trousers. Fitting my lips by her ear, my voice is low not wanting my live punching bag to hear.

“Don’t lie when we both know you’re soaking your little panties right now.”

She hums as she squeezes my dick through my boxers. I’m not fully hard with the task needing to be completed clinking behind me and she turns into me. Her lips brush my jaw with each low husky syllable falling off them.

“We both know you’re a selfish bastard and I’d be getting myself off,” then she lets me go, but I catch sight of the way she bites the corner of her lip as I straighten.

She drops it straight away and I step in front of her blocking the soon-to-be-dead man from seeing her as he begs for his life. Tracing the edge of her lip that was caught between her teeth as it glistens, I tilt her head back so she’s looking up at me fully and lower my voice.

“You seemed to be drooling. Fix your problem, then I’ll plug your other leak.”

She flushes, her cheeks turning ruddy as she shifts uncomfortably on the seat.

She sits taller and presses against my hip with another command on her tongue.

“Go fuck your little torture victim.”

I take a controlled breath to stop myself from throttling her intentionally. Fuck it, she’s allowed herself some false comfort because I’ve been kind so far and she’ll see what I’m truly capable of now. That will stop her running her mouth and demanding shit from me like I’m some errand boy to her whims and fancies.

I turn and stop Dima from hanging the fucker up on the hook. The chain is already threaded through it and my new toy shakes as I pull off the rest of my clothes so I’m in my boxers.

“Please, God, I didn’t do anything.”

Snot runs into his mouth sticking in his facial hair. He’s younger than the average, around Inessa’s age. He has an athletic build too. He could be an opponent rather than solely an outlet. My smile feels dark and sinister as I change my mind. It’s only fair I use the suka for release when he done the same to me. I stand free of any blood in nothing other than my boxers, but he whimpers full of fear making me laugh.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you recognize me?”

Stopping myself from saying anything more with Inessa being present, I select a random knife from the table and test the weight as I change my mind and want it to be a fair fight. Dima looks at me, awaiting instruction and I stretch my neck to the side speaking around a calm smile.

“Get rid of the chains, I’m in a good mood.”

Catching the knife by the handle, I point it at my entertainment and lightness fills me.

“It’s your lucky day, I’ll give you a chance.”

The shaking intensifies, and he stares at me wide eyed. People act like I’m fucking crazy when offering them a knife while I only have myself. It’s bullshit. I like their fear, it’s the one thing I’ve worked for over the last twenty-five years. That fear is intoxicating, and it stops everything.

The sick fuckers who have committed unspeakable sins always back away in terror without the privacy of whatever fucking basement they used to get their kicks. He drops to the floor as Dima undoes the mechanism, the chain hitting the concrete with a heavy clang. He stumbles as they’re removed and takes a step forward.

I can’t help myself and pretend to slash him, the pure fucking fear staring back at me has my head falling back from the force of my laugh. Holding it between my finger and thumb, I throw it on the floor behind him and roll my shoulders waiting until it’s in his hand for it all to turn silent. For it all to stop, just like that day I found the off switch for pain. It’s never my own that quiets the noise. The pain of others is the only thing that allows the calm in.

TWENTY

Inessa

Every time I’ve called Vlad the devil he’s been dressed in a suit. Right now, his skin is covered in red, and I’m torn between disgust and appreciation at how easily he’s literally tearing chunks out of his now dead opponent. The other man is my age, mid 20s and he’s not part of the Bratva. Whatever punishment he’s receiving is personal given the introduction at the beginning and the fact there are no tattoos on the back of his hands. I know the rules, civilians are kept unharmed as per the alliance Grandfather has with the Conglomerate, but I don’t even blink or attempt to stop Vlad.

There’s blood everywhere, not just his body but the space around us. He isn’t a man or the monster, he’s an animal and blood drips from his mouth as he spits the man’s ear on the ground. The wild look in his eyes is caused by pain. He’s unguarded and my chest splinters seeing it on his features. Looking around for something, he fixes on Dima and stalks closer with nothing but the same rage. Dima isn’t a small man by any means, he’s easily a few inches shorter than Vlad and they have the same build. He’s usually grumpy with his face setin hard lines, but he attempts to survive as he takes a small step backwards and speaks calmly.

“Legkiy brat.”

Vlad continues advancing, I can see his profile, the violence intensifying as he’s locked away from reality.

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