Page 41 of Emperor of Corruption
He’s frozen for a millisecond—then, two. After a moment, his hold on my waist tightens, one hand slips into my hair, and he doubles me over with the ravenous force of his kiss. His tongue plunges into my mouth, invading and conquering. His teeth clash against mine. His erection grows against my belly. I force back the sob that’s crawling up my throat, desperately praying that this kiss will make him hesitate before torturing me to death.
Rhea was serious when she told me he’d dispose of me if I became an inconvenience. He must know that I met with her, mere hours ago. I’m not sure how, but he does, and I am going to suffer immensely for it.
He jerks my head away from his with a vicious yank of my hair, baring his teeth at me. “Now,you kiss me of your own volition? Not out of passion, but out of fear.”
He’spissed. I’d hoped the kiss might diffuse him, but instead, it’s made him angrier than ever. He’s going to destroy me. I can see the rabid beast in his eyes.
He releases a low, cruel chuckle. “Seductive, manipulative littlevixen,” he growls. “Get on the bed right now or I will make you regret the day you were born.”
Another sob crawls up my throat.This is it for me. There have been many times in my life when IthoughtI’d die, but this is the moment Iactuallydie, and Killian’s going to enjoy making me suffer until the very end.
“Please,no.” My grip on his shirt tightens. He yanks me away from him.
“The hard way it is, then. It can never be easy with you, can it?” He starts walking me backwards, utilizing his grip on my hair to guide me. I sob and I beg, but my pleas fall on deaf ears. I barely have any pride or dignity left; all I have is the burning need to survive,somehow. Maybe if I please him, he’ll let me go—
My knees hit the back of my bed. Before I can fall, Killian flips me over, so I land face-first, eye-level with the most terrifying whip in the collection. My tears fall even harder as I struggle, but my struggles are useless. Before I can push myself up, Killian’s gathered both of my hands behind my back, and snaps cool metal over them.
He pushes me up the bed, until my breasts are smooshed against the tails of the whip. I try to release a screech—he stuffs his fingers in my mouth, cutting off the sound as soon as it begins. He shoves them so far in that I instinctively gag, nausea overwhelming me.
“None of that. I’d like some peace while I do what needs to be done.” His fingers leave my mouth, confusing me. I struggle vehemently against the handcuffs, but a moment later, before I can try to scream again, the silicone gag presses against my lips. I try to shut them, but another vicious yank on my hair forces them to part, and Killian shoves the gag in. The cry I force out is muffled around it. Now, any noise I make won’t carry. Any hope that my neighbors might hear me and call the police goes up in flames.
He fastens the band of the gag around my head, leaving me bound at my hands and blocked at my mouth.
And, because eventhatisn’t enough for him, my feet are next. They go in a spreader bar, ankles locked into the cuffs, and he widens it until my thighs burn with a stretch. My legs are spread-eagle and held immobile. My hands are as well.
I tried to beg him for mercy, and I failed. He has no mercy. He’s going to torture me to death and enjoy every moment of it.
I’m completely fucked.
The cool, sharp edge of a blade presses into my neck. I tense up and release a squeak of fear around the gag.
He’s going to carve me up like a Christmas turkey and leave my body to be found some days or weeks later.
Instead of the pain I expect, I hear a sharp tear. My shirt sags on my shoulders.He’s not killing meyet; he’s undressing me in the cruelest way possible.He cuts it away, quickly and methodically, leaving me only in my bra.
Then come my pants, and my panties. With each slice, I feel any hope of survival draining from me. Each rip of fabric is a lock sealing on my fate.
All I can do now is pray that he makes it quick, that I don’t suffer too much… but I doubt my prayers will have the desired outcome. No, Killian’s already decided what he’ll do—all I’m capable of now is waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to bore quickly so he slits my throat.
“You have been anextraordinarilynaughty girl.” Killian maneuvers the spreader bar, shoving it upwards so my knees are folded beneath me and my ass and pussy are on display, open for him to use and abuse in whatever way he wishes.
“I’m almost impressed that you still have some fire left in you. I would be admiring you, if I weren’t sofucking angry.” He slaps my ass. I’mstillbruised from the belting last weekend, so it hurtsbadly.“Now, allow me to dispel the worst of your fear; I’m not going to kill you. But once this is over, you mightwishyou were dead.”
He’s going to torture me without offering me the sweet mercy of death. He might decapitate or maim me. Cut off a few fingers or limbs.
He takes a seat on the edge of the bed in front of me, facing me. In his hands, he holds a ginger root and a knife. He holds my gaze as he slices a knot off the tip.
“Have you ever heard about figging?” he asks conversationally. He begins peeling the ginger, slicing away the skin one strip at a time. I knowexactlywhat figging is, and I have a dreadful sense this evening is going to take a turn for the very worst.
Ishouldn’ttrust that Killian won’t kill me tonight… but what motivation would he have to lie? Hewantsmy fear—I can see it in his eyes. He wants me terrified, trembling, crying. And he’s an expert at getting what he wants. If he were going to kill me, I think he’d taunt me with the knowledge.
Instead, he’s going to make me wish I were dead.
“It’s been used repeatedly throughout history,” Killian says, slicing off a piece of the ginger’s skin. “First, during the times of ancient Greece.”Slice, slice, slice.“It was slightly different back then: when female slaves disobeyed, their owners would punish them by shoving peeled radish root up their rectum and leaving them to suffer. The Romans later adopted that practice, with ginger. Then, it surfaced again in the 19thcentury, and evolved to be an intense BDSM punishment.”
The top of the ginger is peeled now, and my heart races as he beginsshapingit. It starts to take the form of a butt plug. He’s going to shove it in my ass and whip me—every time he hits me, I’ll clench around the root, and it’ll hurt even more.
Ialreadywish I were dead. The punishment isn’t just painful; it’ll be more humiliating than anything else he’s done to me to date.
