Violent Things

He began to buck against my beloved wildly, but Bates tugged on his arms again, pushed his knee further into his back, and strained him to the point that he had no choice but to stop his futile attempts at escape.

“What’s your name?” I inquired as I continued to rub my hand over his hardening cock.

“Fuck you,” he spat at me.

I smiled as I slid my hand into the side of his briefs, trailing the skin of his shaft, then dug my nails in.

“Fuck!” he croaked again and I glanced up hopefully at Bates for a look of approval. He kept his face as carefully banal as he could, but I could tell by the way his jaw was squared so tightly that he didn’t like what I was doing.

You will soon.

“Answer her question or I swear to God, I’ll rip your fucking arms off,” he barked at the man as he began to bend him back and push him forward all at the same time.

His rage was a thing of rare beauty.

He always kept it carefully tucked away and I never saw it as often as I would like, so when I did, I somehow managed to fall a little deeper in love with him.

“I think he’s ready now,” I said to my lover when the still unnamed stranger’s cock became fully hard in my grip.

He. I don’t think I like that much anymore.

“What’s your name?” I asked him again, as patiently, methodically, as I was stroking his dick.

“Jensen,” he spat out pitifully.

With a nod, I reached for the handle of the knife and held it out to Bates.

I wasn’t going to need it.

I knew I was strong enough for what needed to be done.