I patted her knee several times during our initial conversation, just to be able to touch her and imagine what her skin must have felt like underneath the cargo pants she wore. She must have noticed my interest in her, because she taunted me. It seemed she wanted to use my attraction to her to get me to set her free, or to get close to me so she could milk me for information. I wasn’t going to fall for it.
Those blue eyes made it difficult, though. They were expressive and piercing. I could almost read her thoughts through them, or at least the thoughts she wanted me to see. It was such a shame, I thought, that we had to meet the way we did. I could have had a lot of fun with her if she’d just been another woman instead of the thief who’d been stealing my product and robbing me of my clients’ confidence.
She asked me to torture her, and when I told her I wouldn’t, she suggested doing other physical things to get her to talk. I didn’t want to hear her talk. I wanted to hear her moan. I wanted to hear her voice, heavy with desire, moan deep within her throat. I wanted to torture her with sex, to make her want me and not give it to her. I wanted to please her until she simply gave me all the information I wanted on who her boss was and where he was.
When I threatened to set her free and get word to her boss that she’d been caught, I could tell she grew nervous. She knew I would get word back to him pretty quickly that she was being sent back to him empty-handed, just as I’d gotten word to him about moving all of my heroin back to our empty basement at HQ, where I had her now.
I decided it was time to have a little fun with her.
“Still sure you don’t want to talk?” I asked her as I approached with a knife in my hand.
She just smiled at me and taunted me with those delicious lips and seductive eyes.
I pressed the knife under her chin.
“See, at this point, I could use this knife to cut your ropes and send you running away from your boss, or I can use it to cut your tender flesh,” I taunted her, whispering in her ear as I pressed the point of the blade lightly against the skin under her chin.
She strained her head back, away from the knife. Her thin fingers clenched the arms of the chair. Leaning back, stretching her back along the chair, I could see her tits pushing out against her shirt over the ropes around her waist. Her neck wasn’t what I wanted to cut. Neither were the ropes. I wanted to cut those clothes off of her, to expose her.
Maybe a little exposure would do her good, I thought. I figured there were two possible outcomes that would be served by stripping her. Either I’d get the answers I wanted or we’d have sex. Either outcome was fine by me.
“You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” I asked. She wasn’t just gorgeous. She was fearless. I could see why her boss had hired her in the first place.
“Is there anything to be afraid of?” she asked in response, cutting her eyes to me and giving me a smug little grin.
I threw the knife to the side. It clattered when it hit the concrete floor, and the sound filled the room, amplified as it bounced around the concrete walls. I grabbed her underneath her chin and pushed her back, lifting the front legs of the chair off the floor.
“If you had any sense, you would be afraid,” I growled at her.
“Is that the best you got?” she spat back at me.
“Who the fuck do you work for?” I snapped at her.
Her eyes shifted away from me, looking straight ahead now to avoid the question.
“You’ll talk,” I told her. I pushed the chair back until I had her lying on her back on the floor.
“Or what? You’ll let me take a nap?” she smarted off again.
“You wanted to be tortured and beaten,” I told her, “so I’m going to start.” I placed a boot across her throat and rested my foot there. I wanted to threaten her. I didn’t want to actually hurt her. When she tilted her chin up to give me better access, I decided against it. I couldn’t imagine hurting someone as beautiful as she was. She’d obviously gotten in over her head by working for her boss, whoever that was.
“Do it,” she said. “Crush my throat, big man. You won’t get anything out of me, then.” She laughed mockingly.
“Dammit,” I cursed her, pulling my boot away and going back for the knife. I didn’t know what I was going to do to her. I wanted to make her talk, but I also didn’t want to use any of my normal tactics. I simply couldn’t bring myself to damage her.
Then, as I grabbed the knife from the floor, I got an idea.
“You were right,” I told her. “There are other ways to make you talk. I’ve got you in a pretty compromising position right now,” I reminded her.