(c) 2009 M Roulette Chatelaine
(Steal my shit, and I’ll be hunting YOU down.)
CHAPTER ONE —
. use me
I dig my heel deeper into the soft pouch of flesh between his legs, protected only by a thin layer of fabric, thanks to my generosity of allowing him to leave his pants on. Trust me, I didn’t have to. His eyes are wide, and he’d be begging and pleading with me to spare him the pain and humiliation, were he able to. I’ll have to remember to buy a new pair of hosiery in the hotel lobby, I mentally note before alleviating just enough pressure; it should allow the man to speak. Oh, except for the hose. I yank that quickly out of his mouth, enjoying the nice red lines that have formed at the outer edges of his lips due to him having to accommodate the big ball of lingerie.
“Well?” With my other arm casually against my thigh, pistol in hand, of course, I look right at him. Ready for my answer. Too bad for him, it appears he has nothing. Nothing doesn’t fly with me. Not in my work, and not in my play. I hate that I keep getting the two mixed up.
“She said … ” He begins.
“That’s right, Jimmy. You take a nice deep breath and think carefully about your words.” Somewhere in the back of my brain, I realise Cassandra would kill me, if she knew I was here. Not that I cared, or that it would stop me. Cass and I were friends. This is what friends do – when one of them gets date-raped, at least. “Do you think I have all day?”
“What?” He sputters. “I, I … I don’t even know who you are!”
Well, that’s a no-shit. Nor will he ever. If he wants to live. Against my better judgment, I’m not always a sadistic hell-bitch. I do ensure that the punishment fits the crime. And, well, California, and thereby, Los Angeles, isn’t going to make rape a capital crime anytime soon. Regardless of my own personal, albeit biased, feelings toward the subject matter. (more…)