Page 5 of Brutal
“Vocal?” the guy who got me into this whole mess scoffs. “Mimi here is a hell of a lot more than vocal. How many guys did she bite, huh? She should come with a warning — and a hefty discount!”
“You’re the first she’s bitten,” Elena lies. “Mimosa knows the importance of keeping her teeth to herself, if she wants to keep those teeth.”
I’d bitten quite a few men when this had all started, but the punishments for that had been too severe. It had never been customers, anyway—just men who’d been brought in to “train” me.
Mostly, it had changed when the “boss” came in with a set of pliers and threatened to pull my teeth out one-by-one if I didn’t start complying.
Brutal chuckles, seeming entirely too amused, and for a moment, there’s only silence. They must be staring at each other.
Or at me.
Then the crop comes down onto my ass with a hard thud, and I jerk, crying out in what’s mostly discomfort.
He starts off slow, like he’s warming up, but steadily builds into a rhythm that puts more and more pressure on spots he’d already smacked with the crop before.
Fuck. It hurts. The crop is thin, and each strike feels like a sharp cut. I try to relax into it so that it doesn’t hurt as much, but even when this was happening regularly, I was never any good at simply accepting the pain.
It’s not as bad as it could be, though. He isn’t attacking my back at all, focusing only on my ass and thighs. The pace he chooses means I have time to get used to the pain before it ramps up another notch.
It’s almost like he’s holding back.
That’s impossible, though. He has no reason to hold back.
But it still feels like he is.
The idiot guy whose cock I’d bitten is into it, though. When I turn my head to look at him, I can see his hand back in his pants — pity I hadn’t maimed him more — and he’s cheering Brutal on like he’s doing something heroic.
Brutal grits his teeth, finally stopping. “Can you get rid of that clown?” he demands. I hear rustling, then a few footsteps before the familiar sound of cash being pressed into someone’s hand — Elena’s, maybe?
“Of course,” Elena says. “Could you please leave, Mr. Jones?”
The way she emphasizes the name, I think we all realize it’s an alias.
“What the fuck? No, I’m not leaving. I paid to be here! And it’s still me she bit!” Jones complains.
“Usually I like an audience,” Brutal says, smacking the crop into the palm of his hand. Even though he didn’t touch me with it, I still flinch. “But you’re just fucking annoying. Mimi isn’t for you, not anymore. You blew it.” He laughs. “Or didn’t blow it, which is your own fucking fault, limp dick.”
“You dick?—”
“Please, Mr. Jones,” Elena interrupts. “Leave quietly, or I’ll be forced to call security to kick you out.”
Jones makes a frustrated noise, but he must know he doesn’t have a chance. If he causes a scene, he’ll piss off the owners of this operation, and everybody who comes to visit me has to know exactly how dangerous this mafia group is.
“Fine. But you’ve just lost yourself a customer,” Jones mutters.
Brutal bursts out laughing, the sound mocking as Jones zips up his pants, then I hear footsteps as he storms out.
“‘You’ve just lost yourself a customer,’” Brutal repeats through his laughter. “Man. My friend Chase’ll get a good kick out of this. Chase… Oh, right. Tell your boss I’m ready to make my purchase.”
I turn to look as he hands the crop back to Elena.
“Purchase?” I say, dazed. I accidentally clench my ass, and I hiss when I push against the welts.
Purchase doesn’t sound like the right word. Purchase sounds like something you do at a grocery store, not a run-down building with cells that hold dirty, beaten women.
“Oh, yeah. Guess I forgot to tell you, what with you biting the dude’s dick and all for what I’m absolutely sure was the first time,” Brutal drawls. “You’re coming home with me. Doesn’t that sound like fun, Mimi?”
“No,” I answer honestly. I realize what I said a second too late, but thankfully Brutal doesn’t appear to be insulted.