Beauty and the Beast | Fillie

Princess

➵

He had shot her thigh.
And she swore that she had never felt so much pain in all of her life.

Millie rolled on the floor, as she was pressing her palms on the wound. God, it burnt, it bloody hurt and she wanted to stop it already.
Her wrenching crying and spams had a kind of arousal effect on him; as if her shocking pain was the fuel to his insanity.

"You are starting to get predictable. I don't like having chats with people who run away."

His threat didn't stop her to try to get out of there anyway. She tried to crawl, with just the force of her forearms, to the only exit of the plane; panting, drenched with sweat and with the adrenaline pumping in her lungs.

And that scene was so amusing to him; Millie Brown was really a girl who never stopped fighting, who tried her best to find a solution, that unrepeatable ray of sunshine in the storm. But now the storm couldn't be stopped; she had to live in it.

And she had to like it.

"Where are you going? We haven't finished yet." He hissed, letting the gun fall from his hand.

He didn't need it now.
That was about to be his favorite part; the begging scene that made him feel so powerful, at the top of the world.

"I don't like people who walk away from me."

Limping, Modine got closer, stopping her pathetic scene by pressing his foot on her back and making her silently scream.

Then, she grabbed her by her ankle and dragged her back, near the seats.

As he was doing it, the carpets colored with the blood gushing out from the wound in the leg. Millie's desperate screams pierced his ears, and the more she did it, the more he liked it.

"Let me go!" Her chocked voice was a wrenching plea, as she was trying to sink her nails into the carpets with all the force she had.

"Caleb! Gaten! Help me!" Her screams were meant to fade away in the thin air, since nobody was there besides the two of them.

Her fingers flamed because of that enforce, but the pain in the leg was all that her brain could think about. Millie let the hold go, and she wanted to kick her legs so bad; but the left one just burnt too much now.

Having enough of her, he finally turned around with a soft kick, as his foot landed on her chest, pressing it on the rib cage and cutting all of air supply. A symphony of coughing escaped her lips as he was staring down her that petite little body he desired to posses in that right moment.

Millie looked at him terrified: her arms were in complete surrender, as her mouth was exhaling loudly, trying to stop to shiver and calm herself down.

But she couldn't.
She really couldn't.

"I dreamt for this moment since December." He talked deliciously, grabbing his Swiss pocket knife he always carried with him.

He knelt down, clasping her hands together as the sharp, mortal blade was cutting the denim fabric off her lower stomach.

"What are you do-doing? No!" She tried to move her hands, but it was horrifying how strong he was.