Chapter 13 - by Jouley
Jordan
I told them to bring me the pretty one.. The one whose boyfriend was killed in the raid. She had a look about her, proud, stubborn, willful and damn sexy. I wanted her.
I watch as Drake brings her in, her eyes half shut in defiance and most likely the lasting effects of one or more blows to the head. It's a surprise most of them are even still able to walk, what with all the rough housing the boys like to dish out.
Me? I don't rough house. I aim to inflict pain, and don't joke around about it either. I want this bohemian to myself, so once she's in the cell I send Drake away, much to the mans disappointment.
Boo Hoo. He can go fk one of the others, because this one is mine.
Hands clasped behind my back, I approach the girl.. Or would woman be a more appropriate term? Her age is hidden behind dried blood and tears. She doesn't make a movement as I approach, obviously already resigned to her fate.
Damn. I would have liked to be the one to break her. I guess I'll just have to settle for a little reckless fun. Though not too reckless, for I'm aware this woman is one of the bohemians kept in solitary, and therefor one that's not too be fatally harmed.
It saddens me, for there were so many things I could do to her, but will have to wait until her usefulness is no more.
Now, standing in front of her, I run my hand along her jaw line, watching as her eyes remain cold and stony, staring into space behind me. Once more I wish she still had the fight left in her. I much prefer the look of a girl who knows her fate, and would do anything from receiving it.
I let my hand travel down her neck, over the mound of one of her breasts and down across her bare stomach. She hardly makes a move, except unconsciously shuddering at my cold fingers on her flesh. When my hands reach her trousers, I notice the button and zipper have been torn, and are only held closed now by a lose ribbon.
Aww. Without hesitation, I pull at the tie, causing the flaps of her shorts to fall open and reveal to me purpling flesh. For the third time I frown at not having gotten to the woman first.
I lead her over towards a table situated in the center of the cell, and without any force, she leans her body over it's edge until her chest presses into it's cold, sticky surface.
I wonder if she knows who's blood she's now covered in. I toy with the idea of telling her, but shrug it off. Mental torture had never been one of my favourite methods.
With the girl now doubled over the table, I begin to pull down her shorts, the thin fabric easily pushing down her clammy backside and down to her knees then ankles.
Now that she's revealed to me, I can feel my own body start to react.. There was always something about a submissive woman, exposed, that sent chills through my body. This woman was no exception. I wanted her, now.
Reaching to my belt, I pull out my laser baton and carefully switch the power off. As much as I like to inflict pain, accidentally charging the weapon in a situation like this isn't something I wanted to do. Or have to clean up and explain.
As I push the baton against the woman's fleshy mound, I can see the woman start to tense. She hasn't put up a fight yet, and the hope she might start turns me on even more. It's a false hope though, for as I push the impromptu phallus deep into her gut, she falls still, not even making the slightest noise.
Not that it matters, as I can feel the stickiness of blood on the weapon as I pull it back out of her. I hadn't realized I'd pushed it in far enough to cause damage, I was too wound up in my own feelings at the idea of fucking this pretty thing.
It doesn't take long till I find myself grinding my hips into the back of her leg, my hands still pushing and pulling at the baton, not at all trying to get the woman off but only worried now about my own impending pleasure.
It's a bit of sick, twisted irony, but that's what I love about my job.