Don’t give up.
Don’t give in.
You’re strong.
Mitch touched his shoulder, running his finger along the length.
With the knife still in his hand, Noah held onto the handle, finding the strength as he did so. All he needed was the perfect, weakened moment.
Mitch stood in front of him, looking so smug it sickened him.
One.
Two.
Three.
He counted each word, spelling them in his mind. Trying to do anything to calm the rage that was building inside him.
Skye’s sudden scream made him tense.
“Don’t you worry about her.” Mitch’s hands went to his pants and began to unbutton them.
Noah resumed the counting.
He was used to being patient. Waiting for the ball, knowing the right moment when to call, to make the winning pass.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Mitch’s pants were open, and as he pulled his dick out, Noah waited. Mitch was rock hard. His length stood out in front of him, so close to Noah’s face.
“Go on, boy. Have a little taste. You’re going to have to get used to cock. Your mouth is going to be…”
Mitch didn’t get to finish his words as Noah brought his knife out and slammed it against Mitch’s groin. He pulled the blade out and did it again.
The next time, he grabbed Mitch’s dick and used the knife, which was incredibly sharp, seeing as he’d spent hours since his last escape sharpening it.
He severed Mitch’s dick right off, holding the dead piece of flesh in his hands while Mitch fell to the floor and screamed.
Noah felt oddly detached as he stared at his captor.
The man who had hurt him.
Beaten Skye so that he’d hurt her.
Tortured her in order to hurt him as well, weakening him. Noah kicked him over with his boot as Mitch continued to scream.
It was just a little pain.
They had all experienced it at his hand.
Crouching down, Noah watched him. The blood excited him as it spilled from Mitch’s body. The cock still in his hand seemed odd.