Dangerous beginnings / MADE MEN BOOK 1

Silva - Forest

Triggers; prey and hunter play, breath-play, fear play, emotional distress, power dynamics, captivity and masked man.

Part 3
Aslanov

As I stride away from the secluded cabin she already infiltrates my mind and senses. Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, a twinge of unease worms its way into my chest, a fleeting moment of regret for leaving her in such a vulnerable state.

She's unlike anyone I've ever encountered before, her strength and resilience both captivating and infuriating. And yet, there's something undeniably intoxicating about her, something that draws me to her with an almost magnetic force.

I curse under my breath, irritation flaring within me at the unexpected disruption to my plans. The urgency of the situation gnaws at my insides, fueling the flames of my frustration.

As I navigate through the winding roads, my mind replays our encounter over and over again, each memory igniting a fierce hunger within me. I can still feel the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips, the way she moaned and writhed beneath me as I teased her to the edge of ecstasy and then denied her release.

The lights of the city skyline beckon in the distance, a chaotic symphony of temptation and vice. My jaw clenches with determination as I navigate the bustling streets, my focus honed on the task at hand.

Arriving at the casino, I push open the heavy doors with purpose, the cacophony of voices and flashing lights assaulting my senses.

As I descend into the depths of the casino, the cacophony of voices and flashing lights fade into the background, replaced by the ominous atmosphere of the basement. The air is heavy with the scent of sweat and fear, a stark reminder of the power I wield in this underworld.

Pushing open the heavy doors with purpose, I stride into the chamber where Petrov's first man is being held captive by my men. The room falls silent as my presence commands attention, my every movement exuding an air of authority that brooks no disobedience.

My men bow their heads in deference as I approach, their loyalty unwavering in the face of adversity. Without a word, I assess the situation, my gaze locking onto the trembling figure of Petrov's first man.

He's missing three fingers and all his front teeth till thus far.

Though one.

With a flick of my wrist, I signal for the interrogation to continue, my expression impassive as my men carry out my orders with ruthless efficiency. The sound of screams echoes off the walls, a chilling symphony of pain and suffering that serves as a reminder of the price of defiance.

After loosing all his teeth and no more fingers to cut I decide it is time to establish this situation myself.

Taking a knife on the side of the iron table and approaching the man in question.

I need this done quickly, I need to get back to my little woman.

Without a warning I carve out his left eyeball. His screams ring off the walls and through the gag. I rip the gag out of his mouth and when I want to shove his own eye into it he screams, "p-please, please! No m-more!"

I grin, evil, so very evil. He knows what we want to know, no question necessary. "H-he's at the Shadow Club." He breathes out.