“Nick…”
The thought of him cutting off my fingers nearly collapses my knees. I can’t imagine the unbearable pain of having it done. Can I live the rest of my life without two fingers? How long does it take to heal? How long would I bleed? How many stitches would it take to mend the severed digits?
Oh God, is this my reality?
Am I truly about to lose two fingers because of this?
“I’m sorry. Please don’t do this,” I beg.
Tears begin to stream down my face. I can’t keep a strong appearance like Maxim had done before his fingers were nearly sliced off. I can’t pretend I’m not afraid. I can’t simply allow this without screaming and crying and doing whatever it takes to prevent it. I’ll have zero shame in begging to keep all my fingers.
He takes large steps toward me, his cane hitting heavy on the flagstone flooring. “There’re consequences for what you’ve done.” He backs me all the way against the wall. “Two fingers.”
I put my palm against his chest, feeling his heart beat. “Don’t do this, Nick. Please don’t. Please.” I can barely get the words out between my sobs. “I’ll do anything.”
He shakes his head. His eyes locked with mine. “You can’t be allowed to get away with this without there being a punishment. Two fingers. I’m sorry, but I can’t let this go without acting. I’m a man of conviction. You know this.”
“Be a man of mercy,” I plead.
“I’m sorry. Two fingers.”
He raises his cane, my eyes darting to the blade on top.
“No, no.” This can’t be happening. No.
Nick raises the cane up, the knife now on full display. I hold my breath. I have no choice but to wait.
Do I at least get to choose which two fingers are cut off?
Nick holds up two fingers with his free hand to show me which ones he plans to cut off. “These two.” It’s his index and middle finger.
Then without warning, he takes his two fingers and shoves them up my pussy. He drops his cane to the floor, uses his free hand to prop himself against the wall, and begins finger-fucking my pussy with his two fingers.
Over and over, he shoves them hard inside of me. Tears fall from my eyes as I process the emotions of relief of him not actually cutting my fingers off and the sensation of having him fuck my pussy instead. Fear blends with the impending orgasm, and I don’t know what to do other than allow my muscles to give way. I fall to the floor as my legs can no longer hold my weight. Nick guides me down as his fingers are still firmly rooted inside of me.
Once I’m lying on the ground, he positions himself over me and says, “Two fingers.” And shoves them even deeper inside of me. I’ve never been more relieved to have all my digits intact and someone else’s fucking me.
I’m strong.
But not strong enough to resist him.
I’m nothing but a woman. A woman with a burning need and a hunger I can’t control.
I ran from him. I escaped him. I shouldn’t be here, doing this, but how the hell am I supposed to resist?
My mother fights addiction. Not me. Never have I suffered from that in my life.
Until now.
Nick Hudson is my addiction. An addiction far greater than any junkie could experience. I know this. I can feel it. But I have no desire to fight the urge any longer.
“I warned you,” he growls, lying above me, his palm braced against the stone floor of the room. “I told you there would be consequences.”
His lips brush far too lightly and much too briefly over my mouth before moving down to trace along the column of my neck, causing me to groan and quiver as I turn my head to the side, allowing him easier access. His tongue licks along my collarbone, and goose bumps break out over my flesh. I’m so immersed in the sensations he’s creating I haven’t even noticed his two fingers are no longer inside of me, and I miss the fullness.
“Fuck me,” I beg, my body on fire for more.
“Shhh,” he says with a smile and a look in his eyes that has my pussy clutching in expectation of what’s hopefully to come.