Reese

“Look, if it were down to me, you know I’d let you do whatever you wanted to him. But he’s Hank’s son, so even though he’s an asshole, I can’t kill him. Hank would be sad, and I don’t want that.”

“Are you sure? Because from where I’m sitting, I’m thinking Hank might prefer to cut his losses,” Sugar says, both of us aware that he’s awake and playing possum.

“Well, given the shit he’s pulled, I doubt Hank would mind if you rough him up a little. Oh, and remember that guy? Oh, what’s his name…Randy…no…Robert?”

“Big, mean, and enjoys forcing straight dudes to take his Coke-can cock up their virgin asses?” Sugar questions with a wicked grin as the color drains from Mike’s face.

“That’s the one.”

“Ah, you mean Roberto? It’s funny you mention him. I heard he just got out of prison. What perfect timing! We could get him to drop by for a visit, let this asshole know exactly who we are.”

Mike whimpers as Sugar laughs maniacally.

“He’s finally awake. What’s that little man? I couldn’t hear you above the sound of you pissing yourself.”

“Let me go, and I won’t say anything,” he whispers as Sugar struts toward him.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that, silly boy. It’s hard to talk with no tongue and a dick wedged in your throat.”

He starts crying, which, to be honest, makes me want to punch him.

I stomp over to him and grip his hair, yanking his head back so that he has no choice but to look up at me.

“Look at you. You’re pathetic. Did you give a single fuck about your father when you left him bleeding and unconscious? No. So tell me why I should care what happens to you.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Fuck.” He fights against his restraints, making the chair he’s tied to wobble.

“It’s not me you need to say sorry to. You think I give a fuck about you? I don’t. If I had my way, you’d be dead for touching him. But I won’t put him through that hurt. I guess that’s the difference between us. I’d never do anything to cause that man an ounce of pain.”

“That, and you don’t piss yourself like a baby when you’re tied up.”

I turn to look at Sugar. “Actually, being tied up is kind of fun.”

“Well yeah, but being poked with a big dick isn’t the same as being poked with a sharp knife, now is it?”

“I suppose there is that,” I concede.

With a shake of her head, Sugar lifts her leg and presses her bright pink heel against Mike’s dick.

“How about you tell me everything I want to know, and I’ll make sure you get out of here mostly intact.”

He shakes his head, looking between us as if searching for an ally, but he is shit out of luck.

I run through scenarios in my head, knowing we’ll need to work the psychological angle more than the slice and dice one. Pity.

As I bite my lip, I remember him sneering at the two men kissing at the bar beside him. It was a tender moment that he tarnished with his obvious prejudiced mindset, but it gives me an idea now.

“Give me a second, Sugar. I have a present for him before we start.”

Sugar looks at me for a beat before stepping back and returning to the chair opposite.

Just like Sugar, I lift my leg and place my foot where hers was.

He swallows hard, watching me as I dip my hand beneath my dress and slide my fingers inside my pussy.

“I think before we call Roberto, we should give you a little preview of what’s to come. Talking of cum. Have you ever tasted any? Oh, not a woman’s. I doubt you’ve ever gone down on one in your life, which is just as well. It’s my experience that selfish assholes have no idea how to give pleasure. Finding the clit ends up like a game of whack-a-mole.”

“I hate those guys. Those are worse than the ones who just can’t find it at all. Like, what is it with guys and asking for directions? If they ever bother to ask, I could show them where that sucker is in a heartbeat. But nooooo,” Sugar complains.