Prettiest Psycho by Crystal North EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Crystal North
- Language: English
- Genre: Erotic Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
PISTOL WHIP ME, DADDY
‘TIME FOR TEA’ – EMILIE AUTUMN
KOOKABURRA
God, this place is a fucking dump. I think the straitjacket, ankle
manacles and fucking muzzle used to transport me here were a touch
unnecessary. Though I guess I did bite my handler’s finger off. Tasted like a
grisly hotdog. But I’ve eaten worse.
Makes me laugh that they had the biggest, baddest, meanest looking
sons of bitches to keep me in my place, yet with just one look they were
quaking in their combat boots and reaching for their extra restraints.
Pathetic.
Joke’s on them; I’m into that shit.
Even when BBA – Baddest Bitch A, also known as chief douchebag,
head of security – came at me, teeth bared and gun in hand, my thighs were
clenching with hope. Fucking do it. Shoot me. Or at the very least pistol
whip me, Daddy.
Snort.
Of course he didn’t.
Didn’t want to get that close. Even with me all restrained and trussed up
like a gift under the Christmas tree. They didn’t want to risk it.
So here I am. Waking from my sedation – because even restrained better
than Hannibal fucking Lecter I’m apparently a flight risk – in the middle of
bumfuck nowhere, where the weather is fucking diabolical if the grey skies
and drizzle on the window pane are anything to go by.
I’m surprised they’ve left me unattended in what appears to be a
shrink’s office, all restraints gone. They must be watching. As if I’d be so
stupid as to try to escape when I still have the remains of fuck knows what
sleepy juice coursing through my veins and no idea of the lie of the land.
Stupid and reckless I am not.
I’m playing the long game, baby.
And as soon as I get out of here, I’ll hitch a ride right back to my
hometown to finish what I started. Namely, laying my demons to rest in
hell. There’s still many names on my list. This is a side quest for me, not the
finale to my story.
“Ah, Miss Kingfisher, you’re awake. I am Director Seytan.”
“Conscious,” I correct, refusing to turn to see who has just joined me in
the shrinky dink. Director Satan?
“Excuse me?” The voice is definitely female. Affronted. Maybe she
doesn’t like being corrected. Maybe she’s got a wart on her clit because I
didn’t immediately jump to attention upon her arrival.
She doesn’t walk to her desk and take a seat. That would mean putting
herself in the line of fire. It would mean showing weakness. It would mean
losing.
Oh, I love a good game. Bring it, bitch.
She clears her throat. It’s not a nervous gesture, it’s an angry one. Like a
huff that’s half oesophageal and half nasal. Attractive.
I don’t bother to hide my smirk, it’s not like she can see my face
anymore than I can see hers.
Eventually, when she realises that I’m not going to draw my eyes away
from the dreary vista outside the window, she huffs and stomps over to her
desk. In my periphery, she takes a seat and stares at me, expectantly.
Studying me intently while I tally raindrops that could almost rival my body
count.
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