Make You Beg

“Cheers.” I take a big gulp, and she does the same before placing hers in the cup holder. She turns the knob on the dash, turning up the volume to “Middle Finger” by Bohnes, clearly ready to party.

I throw back another drink, needing to get there as well.

GRAYSON LAW

I stand next to Scout when his phone goes off, signaling a text. “They’re here.”

“Showtime,” I whisper.

“See you soon.” He walks off into the shadows of the performing arts building.

I go in search of our little doll. Just as I walk outside, I watch her get out of the car. She wears a white dress and red high heels.

She reminds me of an angel. Fitting. The devil is going to make the angel sin while worshiping from her knees. Standing back. I watch her and Jamie enter the building. There’s a crowd tonight. A kid from California is here to fight a UT student.

They hold hands as if they’re best friends and nothing ever happened, making their way through the crowd, but I watch them get separated as a fight breaks out between two guys, pushing them apart.

She stops and turns a three-sixty, calling out for Jamie.

I squeeze my way through everyone and come up behind her. Leaning down, I say, “Little doll.”

She spins around to face me. Her blue eyes widen. She goes to turn and run, but I grab her upper arm and yank her backward, running her into people.

We make it through the crowd, and I turn to head down the narrow hallway and to the single door at the end. I push it open and shove her inside.

“Law!” she snaps. “What the hell are you doing?”

I give her my back, dig into my jeans pocket and pull out the padlock. I pull the chain that sits through the door handle and railing to the right, sliding the padlock into the links and lock it.

“What are you doing?” she asks when she hears it click.

I ignore her and bring her around the front of the auditorium. Back in the day this place was as rich as Westbrook. Classy and built for royalty. It’s three stories tall with multiple balconies on each level, looking down at the stage. There’s fifteen seats, ten rows deep on either side of the aisle on the lower level. I see my bag sitting on the floor by the seat on the end of the front row.

I shove her into it.

“Law?” she demands.

Bending down, I grab the roll of duct tape out of the bag and stand. Leaning over, I grab the same arm, hold it down to the dingy and rotten armrest of the old chair and start wrapping it around her small wrist, quickly making my way up to her elbow. Securing her entire forearm to the chair.

“Law, please.” Her voice changes to panic as her free hand tries to undo what I just did.

Too late.

I grab her other arm and repeat the action to the opposite armrest.

Then I drop to my knees and wrap it around her ankles, making my way up her calves. Once to her knees, I tear it off and stand.

She stares up at me, fear and rage battling in her blue eyes. She wiggles and throws her head back, screaming.

I smile. “Even if they could hear you, they can’t get to you.” I finally speak. There are only two ways out of here and I secured one, while I know Scout took care of the other.

While she throws curse words at me, I tear off two more short pieces of tape and place them on the end of the chair next to her. “For later,” I say.

Then I reach down into the bag and pull out my knife.

She stiffens, her eyes glued to it. “What … what are you doing?”

“We’re going to play,” I say simply.

“No. No. Please…” she starts begging, trying to shove her body into the seat.

“Shh.” I place the flat end of the blade against her lips, silencing her. She fights back a sob, afraid to move. Her lips trembling against the cold steel. “I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it. If you don’t obey, then I’m going to make you bleed. Do you understand?”

She takes in a shaky breath but gives me the slightest nod.

“Good, doll … now… part your lips and lick the knife.”

I have the blade pressed flatly against her lips, so it won’t cut her. Yet. All I have to do is turn it in just the slightest, and there will be a stream of blood dripping from her mouth.

She parts her lips and pushes her tongue out. I maneuver the blade slowly down over it, pressing it to her chin. I look into her open and willing mouth, wanting to remove the knife and replace it with my cock. But that’s not why we’re here.