Alena’s Revenge by K.A Knight

Chapter Fifteen

Alena

My breath freezes as I stare into those dark, dangerous eyes. He means it. I have a choice, it’s my body, but if I choose wrong, he will leave me here without a thought. He’s built like that. He said he wasn’t a hero, and he truly meant it. He would leave me here to die without a backwards glance. If I want my revenge, I first need to rectify what they did to me. For some reason, the carving in my stomach is breaking me like nothing else has.

I need it to be gone, which isn’t an option. But I can change it. I can stop it from being my weakness and make it my strength.

I have an idea.

Turning away, I crouch down, spurred by the pain as it pulls on the letters carved into my skin. I search the dead guard’s pockets until I find his sharp, glinting knife, and then I stand and turn to Boogeyman. He frowns in confusion as I pull the knife out and show it to him. His eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t seem concerned I’ll use it on him, so just to test him, I rush him. He snarls, grabs my throat, and slams me into the wall effortlessly, holding me above the floor as my feet kick.

His scowling face gets right into mine as he slides me up the wall with just one hand until I’m the same height as him, and then he squeezes, his lips tilted down angrily. “Don’t try that shit, you’ll die before you hit the floor.”

I grin, even as he clenches harder. “I had to see if you were worth the hype,” I wheeze, and press the blade to his chest. “Here, I don’t have a steady enough hand.” I cough, and he releases his grip enough so I can talk. My body lights up at almost being pressed against his. My needy, idiot pussy pulses unashamedly at the strength he has in just one hand. “You’ll have to do it.”

“Do what?” he asks, even more perplexed.

“Change it, carve it into something else,” I rasp and then relax into his touch, smiling at him. “I won’t even fight you… or I’ll try not to.” He smirks. “I’m not saying I won’t swear or scream…”

“Oh, don’t worry, it won’t stop me.” He lets me go, and I slump down the wall, almost falling as he flips the blade in a quick, deft hand and balances it on one fingertip, testing it. Blood wells, and he nods before flipping it back and addressing me.

“You will probably need to lie down or you’ll fall,” he suggests.

“Just do it,” I almost yell. There’s no point in wasting time. I brace myself against the wall, keeping my eyes on his. He doesn’t hesitate. He holds my waist, his hand spanning nearly all of my ribcage as he presses the blade to the wounds, not asking what to change it to. Good, I wouldn’t know, but anything is better than that name on my skin. It makes me feel more violated than I’ve ever been before.

“It’s going to hurt. Don’t scream too loudly or they will come, and I’ll have to stop and kill them then start again,” he murmurs, and without warning, he slashes downwards. Agony roars through me, more than ever before.

I almost bite my tongue off to hold back the scream, but it slips free and he snarls, glaring at me for a moment. I heave in breaths and close my eyes as my body shakes. I pant and breathe through the sickness and dizziness, and when I feel better, I open my eyes and nod for him to continue. I brace again as he looks down, pressing the knife to my skin. The cool metal feels cold against my overheated flesh.

He cuts again, and I rip myself away with a scream. He snarls, angry now, and covers my mouth with his bloody hand, the knife still in his grasp. I taste my blood on his skin, the blade cutting into my cheek as I shake my head. He removes his hand slightly, and I wet my lips, accidentally licking away the blood. He groans as he follows the movement of my tongue with those dark, dangerous eyes. “I can’t, it hurts too badly.” I hate myself for admitting that.

He sighs and looks down at my stomach for a moment. “Distract me,” I suggest, knowing we need to do this. He needs to finish it. I don’t want to die here with my captor’s name on my stomach. I can’t. I won’t.

“Distract me,” I repeat. He meets my gaze, probably thinking I want him to talk to me, but I have something else in mind.

How do you counter pain?

Pleasure.

“Make me come,” I say unashamedly as I swallow my blood. His eyes flare with interest, but he doesn’t move or speak. “I’m not asking to marry you, for God’s sake, I’m telling you to fuck me. Make me come while you cut me, that way I won’t feel it as badly.”

He doesn’t move, and I snap, kicking out at him. “Fucking hell, I’ll do it myself.” I reach down, ignoring the feeling of my skin. The last time I came, I touched myself. I didn’t have this many scars, nor was I this skinny. He holds my gaze as I part my thighs, grounding me to him as I rub my throbbing clit. He groans, dropping his eyes to my fingers as his muscles clench. But it’s not enough, I need more… I need to feel something other than my rapists’ cocks, more than my own fingers.

I need someone to take control, to bring me pleasure and not let up until I’m screaming and writhing. I whimper, rubbing desperately before gliding my fingers down my pussy and dipping them inside my channel, coating them in my cream as I fuck myself on them, watching his body and eyes the entire time.

“Stop,” he mutters, even as he presses closer, his dark eyes on my fingers.

“Please,” I whimper.

I don’t even see him move. One second, my fingers are spearing my pussy, and the next, he has them trapped in his grip between us, the glistening tips held there. My heart stutters before it races, and my nipples tighten at the raw hunger spread across that dark, dangerous face.

Eyes locked on mine, he leans in and wraps his thick lips around the tips of my fingers, the wet cavern of his mouth making me gasp. He sucks hard, and I jerk forward before he releases me and his long tongue laves my digits, cleaning them of my cream. He watches me the whole time, and when he leans back, his eyes are blown wide, his lips are parted on a groan, his cheeks are flushed, and his chest is heaving.

“Fuck,” he snaps. He throws my hand away before grabbing and lifting me, and then he slams me back into the hard wall, knocking the wind from my lungs. Every man I was with before… before this shit show doesn’t hold a flame to him, to the dominance and danger flowing through his veins. I’ve had rough sex before, but even then, they worried about hurting me, ensuring I was in the moment and okay.

Boogeyman?

He doesn’t give a fuck if I’m hurt or dying. He takes what he wants, and right now, that’s me. His large hands grab my thighs, the knife pressing into one of my scars and almost reopening it. The flash of pain makes me groan and rub against him. He holds me still as he lowers his head, his lips almost pressing to mine as he speaks.

“I won’t fit yet,” he mutters.

“I don’t care,” I murmur. “Make it hurt, rip me, I don’t care. Just fuck me,” I snarl, fighting his hold and feeling the pain bloom in my stomach. I remember the other men’s hands, their touches, their bodies. I need him to replace them with someone I choose, someone I want. “Make me bleed, make me come and scream, Boogeyman. Kill me if you can,” I dare, knowing he won’t back down now.

He can’t.

I’m his new prey.

He lets go of one of my legs and holds me there like I weigh nothing as he reaches between us, unzips his jeans, and pulls out his hard cock. I swallow, eyes wide. Shit, he wasn’t messing around. It’s fucking huge, wide as hell, and so long, my eyes water at the thought of having it inside me. But under that sudden fear at the size of his monster cock is desire—a low, burning desire to feel it tear me apart, to slam inside of me as he cuts me.

To make me bleed, even as he makes me come.

I’m fucked up. I blame them. But maybe I was before I was ever kidnapped. I don’t give a fuck, it’s not going to change now. This is who I am, and I refuse to be ashamed or hate myself the way they want me to. My body has got me through all the torture and trauma, and now it gets what it wants.

Boogeyman… Shit, I can’t keep calling him that.

“What’s your name?” I ask, my eyes flickering to his then back down to his monster cock.

He ignores me, as usual.

He releases his cock and drags his open hand down my pussy, gathering my cream before wrapping it around his hard length and stroking, coating it in my need. I shiver in his hold, watching him. My breathing quickens as I prepare for the pain and pleasure that is soon to follow. He observes me silently the entire time.

He reaches down and slides those huge fingers, intersected with scars, down my pussy and back up before slapping my clit, making me cry out at the sudden surge of pleasure. He does it again, harder and harder, until I’m groaning and grinding into his hand, and then he moves away before circling my dripping hole.

Without warning, he shoves two of those thick, scarred fingers inside me, and the sudden, sharp pain has a squeal leaving my lips. He glares at me, silencing me as he slams them into my channel and twists, stretching me before crooking them and rubbing my wall. He brushes over that spot that has my leg jerking in his grip and my eyes closing as I relax into the wall, lifting my hips to take his fingers, even as the pain fades to a burning pleasure. He adds another and another. There are four fingers inside me, and he doesn’t wait for me to adjust.

No, Boogeyman pulls them out and slams them back in, fucking me with them. The pain and pleasure mingle, making me pant and grunt as I ride them unashamedly. I shake my head, it’s too much yet not enough at the same time. The wet squelch of his fingers is loud, even over my breathing, as he rams them into me.

He’s finally had enough, silencing my cries by smashing his lips against mine. I moan into his mouth as he forces my lips open and slips his tongue in, tangling it with mine. He dominates my mouth as his hand speeds up, his thumb hitting my clit in sync with his thrusts. I lift and grind, twisting on his hand as he swallows my cries. I have to rip my head away, needing to breathe, and he kisses down my chin to my chest. His tongue drags through the blood there as he rolls his eyes up to watch me.

He blows air over my hard nipple before lapping it with his tongue and finally drawing it into his mouth, sucking hard before his teeth come down on the tip. He bites into my sensitive skin until I cry out again. Growling in anger, he slips his fingers from my channel for a moment as he juggles me, and then I feel something cold and wet against my clit and pussy.

Hard.

Metal.

The knife.

He pops my nipple from his mouth. “Scream one more time, and I’ll cut your clit, understood?” he snarls. My eyes widen as my pussy clenches, and I nod. His head lowers again, going to my other breast, leaving a bite mark behind. His fingers pummel into my pussy, restarting that punishing pace as he builds me higher and higher towards an orgasm. I don’t know if it’s him, the pain, or the threat of the knife, but it has me wilder than ever.

I twist and buck, biting my lip to stop myself from crying out. I fight him… and Boogeyman? He loves it. He eats it up. He slams me against the wall, removing his hand just as I was about to fall into the abyss of an orgasm. I feel his cock then, pressing to my pussy as he releases my nipple and leans back, staring at me. His lips are red, and his eyes are wild. He pushes the knife harder against my clit, grinding it down, and it throws me over the edge.

I come so hard I see stars.

Yet through that pleasure, I feel the knife move, and a moment later, agony tears through me. I force my eyes open, even as my legs shake and my pussy pulses. The pain and pleasure meet, making me silent and wild. Blood streams down my belly to my pussy, mixing with my cream.

He cuts me as I come. He makes another quick slice and then pushes his cock into me, forcing it through my tight, fluttering channel with a snarl. He pulls out and pushes back in, even as I struggle to breathe, caught in his grip like a bunny in a net.

Nothing compares to him. I thought I was strong. So strong, so sure. Boogeyman is a monster. He craves pain, bloodshed, and chaos, and he’s fucking me, forcing that huge cock into my pussy and not giving me an inch of leeway. The knife is still pressed against my skin, waiting for the next cut. The anticipation makes me gasp as I look down, watching his huge cock stretch my hole as it rams in and out of me, glistening with my cream and blood.

As I’m looking, he takes the knife and rubs the blunt side against my clit. The pleasure builds again, mixed with pain and fullness, and I’m on the cliff, coming again when he runs the wet knife across my skin to the side, digging the sharp end into one of the healing letters. With a smooth move, he swipes down.

My head falls back as I fight through the haze of pain that slowly tips to pleasure as he fucks me with long, hard thrusts, slanting my hips to hit that spot inside me over and over again. My eyes close without permission, my body tightens up, and every single part of me hurts and sparks with pleasure. I can’t breathe.

Can’t see.

Can’t think or hear.

All I feel is the mixture he’s created as the pleasure grows, tempered each time he slices.

He brings the handle of the knife to my clit as he fucks me, throwing me back over that edge again and making me come. He leans in and swallows my scream, my blood undoubtedly rubbing across his body as I squirt around his cock.

He groans into my mouth, slamming into me and stilling. I feel his cum filling me. His tongue and cock anchor me to this world when I feel like I might fall into the abyss of darkness. The pain, the pleasure are too much, but he keeps me here, dragging me back until I feel every hard, hurting inch of it.

When I can finally pry my eyes open again, they lock on his dark ones. He’s breathing heavily too, and I can hear the racing of his heart as he pins me to the wall, his softening cock still inside me. Without a word, he pulls out and drops me to my feet. I slide down the wall to my ass, wincing at the pain it causes in my sore pussy and stomach.

He licks his lips, buttoning his jeans as I watch. His stomach is coated in my blood, and for some reason, that makes my breath catch, seeing those glistening abs move and the bright crimson marking him. Swallowing, I drag my gaze away and drop them to my stomach to see what he did.

He’s changed the letters. They are bloody and red, contrasting with my pale stomach like a declaration.

“Bitch?” I read, then lift my head to see him smirking at me.

At least it isn’t ‘dog’ or some shit. In fact, I kinda like it.

“That’s my name now?” I ask.

“Yes, now get your ass up. It’s time to get your revenge, Bitch.”