It wasn't supposed to be like this. With my back pinned against the wall and my hands above my head, tears spilling from my eyes as he took me over the edge once again.
" You're a mystery, Sarah." I sob out, my breasts bouncing from each of his thr...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Knowledge is power.
The more you know, the higher your chances of winning.
But anything that comes with power has a price to pay. A price not everyone can always pay because of how it can destroy you.
And that price is your heart.
You see so many things, do so many things and know so many things that aren't always good.
And with all that darkness your soul sucks in, the heart has to sacrifice itself in order to keep the soul alive.
But sometimes that's just how it is, you have to kill your heart to keep your soul alive.
It's been three fucking days and Juan has yet to confess anything despite the continuous torture he is in.
He is on the brink of death and I know his body won't be able to handle more torture without dying, which I can't let happen because I know he is hiding something if he is willing to get into this much pain.
But my anger has only been increasing and my patience is running thin, I need him to start spitting out what he knows, which is why I conclude that without giving him a break, I'm going to spend my whole day torturing him until he confesses.
It's almost evening and we are supposed to have another meeting tonight, I can't stand another three hour long brain torture without getting to any conclusion.
I quickly down the last of my whiskey before getting up to place my handgun in the back of my pants. Making my way to the basement, one of my men nods at me in respect and moves out the way, letting me open the door to the room Juan is in.
As soon as I enter, the smell of blood and rotting flesh intoxicates my nose, but it doesn't bother me much because I've practically been raised around the smell.
The sight of Juan almost makes me pity him because he is just putting himself through this torture by not giving me what I want.
The flesh on his stomach is practically skimmed off and he has lost a few fingers, his nose seems to be broken, a few teeth are missing and the left side of his chest almost has no flesh.
He doesn't even bother looking up at my direction anymore, completely accepting his fate that's to come.
It's silent the whole time I walk over to the now bloodied table to pick up a beautiful boning knife.
There is one part left on his body that seems to be untouched, the most sacred part of a male's body.
Even when I'm standing in-front of him, he doesn't acknowledge my presence, not until the tip of the knife is poking the head of his dick at-least.
When I start pushing the tip of the knife harder into his dick, he finally speaks his first words in three days, " Please."
It's barely a whisper, his energy drained from all the torture and blood loss. I stop the pressure I am inflicting on him and wait another second before speaking, " What do you know?"
