Chapter 2

(Warning! Mention of Violence, gore, and blood. Proceed with caution.

Kayla Santino

He barely closes the door before attacking my body with nasty kisses.

The empty dark room brings me a sense of Deja Vu, and I struggle to locate the switch to turn the lights on.

"Easy there, big boy, we have all night to ourselves," I mumble seductively, and he reluctantly stops kissing me, but he keeps his dirty hands all over my body.

"I can't help it when you're this hot." he glances at my body up and down, licking his chapped lips with lust clear in his dark eyes.

It makes me feel so dirty, but I gotta do what I have to, to lure him into my trap.

"This hotness is only yours tonight. Be a good boy for me and get into bed. I like taking care of my men," I whisper in his ear, slowly biting my lip, and he stumbles hurriedly to the bed.

Stupid.

I slowly take my coat off, exposing my little red dress, and his eyes almost bulge out. I know I am already naked in his mind, and it causes my body to form goosebumps.

I take slow steps towards him, his eyes trailing from my long neck to my ample cleavage, to my tiny waist, my obvious curves, and finally my bare, long legs.

He swallows dryly, his Adam's apple bobbing, and I can clearly see the bulge in his pants.

I internally scoff.

I slowly push him onto the bed, making him lie flat on his back.

Thanks to the owner of this club, they keep in mind everyone's sexual fantasies because on each bedpost, hung silver shiny cufflinks, which fuck knows, I very much needed right now.

Grabbing his wrists above his head, I quickly cuffed them, making his hands bound.

He didn't see it coming, and he still thinks we are here for a good time. That's just for me now.

"Kinky, I see," he laments, smirking. Soon, that smirk will fade away. Just a little longer.

"Yeah, that stuff turns me extremely on." I bite my lip seductively, and he groans. Frustrated.

Idiot.

"I can relate, now do your thing, beautiful, I can't wait any longer," he impatiently says.

I look at his erect dick and smirk. I can't wait for the moment when I cut it off and feed it to him.

Yikes.

"Okay, big boy, just allow me to bind your legs, too. I love being in total control." A horny man will do anything and everything you ask for, provided you ease his erection, and so when he frantically nodded, I knew his end was calling out for him.

After cuffing his legs on the side of the bed posts, I gave him a satisfied smile, and he smiled right back.

Excellent.

I slowly lifted the dress above my head as he watched anxiously. He thought I was getting naked for him, but I didn't want blood on my dress.

He didn't have to know that. Yet.

He looked at my red lingerie with murky, lustful eyes, and I gave him time to appreciate what he wouldn't have.

His eyes bulged out nervously when they saw the holster holding my gun and my three special knives.

Specifically made for me, and my name, 'Kay,' is engraved on them.

They're my badass little bitches.

"Now that we are set," I start taking the blonde wig off. I use the wipes to clean the excessive makeup from my face because it's time we reintroduced ourselves.

I live my contacts on because he'll surely remember the face he looked at when he raped me for two weeks.

Every fucking day for two weeks.

Turning around to face him, a gasp leaves his lips when he finally recognizes me.

Good.

"Where were we? Oh! Let's reintroduce" I make my way towards him and stop when I am standing directly where he can see me.

" I am Kayla Santino," I smirk at the look on his face. I think by now he understands why we are here." And you are Travis Santiago, how can I forget you so easily?" I force an exaggerated laugh.

"What do you want bitch, I thought you died," he says arrogantly, anger clear in his voice.

"Oh! It's her ghost; she came to drag you to hell with her," I mock, laughing. It's true, though. These beasts killed the once-happy girl I was.

Now I'm just a depressed bitch who's after revenge. I don't even know who I am anymore, I'm like a walking shadow of who I was.

He joins me in laughing, his famous laugh, " You can't do shit. You are still that weak little bitch waiting for daddy to save her trivial pathetic ass, it didn't work for you, didn't it?" he finalizes laughing like the maniac he is.

Let's show him who this little bitch is, then. I take my gloves from my coat and put them on, silently staring at him.

Wordlessly, I grab one of my blades and rip his trousers and boxers, specifically the area around his dick.

"Actually, I can do shit," I mumble, holding his flattened dick and balls altogether in my left hand, and his eyes are not daring me anymore.

They hold fear instead. The same mine held when I watched them rip my clothes. Were they fazed? Not even a little.

I swiftly cut through the flesh with no slightest remorse on my face and blankly watch him howl in pain. Just like I did.

His cry sounds like music to my ears instead; it makes me happy that I am not the one hopeless, that I am no longer on the receiving end.

I shove the bloody thing in his mouth to muffle his screams and hold it there so he won't spit it out.

Gross.

"Feels good, does it? I'm just doing the women in hell a favor, because none of them deserves to be raped as you did to me, Travis." I pull my hand away from his mouth, and he spits out his manhood immediately.

He whimpers, tears of pain trailing down his face.

"Come on, Travis, talk to me," I mock him, twirling the blade between my fingers.

"I'm not talking to you, crazy bitch" he spits out. Still not ready to beg.

Good. I take my gun and waste no time shooting him in his right knee. Weak points.

He wails louder, but it doesn't faze me at all.

"Please," he cries out, and I smirk. "I'm sorry, okay." We both know if he gets out of here, he'll do it again and probably kill me. He's not sorry; he's trying to save his ass.

"Good, because I am sorry too. People like you don't deserve to walk around freely." They kidnap and rape women and later sell them into slavery without mercy whatsoever.

And they're never caught.

"That's not what I want to hear, Travis." I hold his chin aggressively, "I want you to beg me to kill you," I say sternly, and he gulps.

Who would have known that the so strong, merciless, and wicked men could also cry?

"No, please," he cries out.

Unexpectedly, I cut two of his fingers and he screams bloody loudly. His body is covered with blood, sweat, and tears from the immense pain, but we are not done yet.

"You tortured and raped a young girl for two weeks. I begged and begged, but you didn't listen. You only laughed at my face, did you know you still haunt me to this day?" I stab his thigh deeply and twist the knife

" Answer my fucking question, Travis, did you know I haven't slept in 6 months?" I ask, immersing the whole knife's length in his flesh.

"No.... no, I don't, please forgive me," he pleads. His wrinkled forehead is sweaty.

"That's not what I want to hear." I use my gun to shoot the other knee and insert the knife in the bullet hole and twist it. The site is disgusting.

Will you judge me if I tell you I don't feel any ounce of pity?

"Please...please..." he cries. My father always says, 'Never leave loose ends. If you leave your enemy alive, he'll come back for you.

They could have killed me when they had a chance because I am not leaving loose ends on my side.

"Please, what, Travis?" I mumble, looking into his teary eyes.

He hesitates to stare pleadingly into my eyes; we both know what's about to happen, but he chooses to delay it." Please kill me," he sighs defeatedly.

I pat his cheek, smiling, a real one in 6 months. "That's a good choice, Travis. How do you want to die?" I am a good person, and I feel he deserves to decide for himself how he's to meet the devil.

"Just make it quick, okay," he says, exasperated. Gun it is, "I hope in your next life you won't cross my path, Travis, see you in hell," I say, blowing his brains out, ending his misery.

Two more.

I sigh, entering the bathroom to refresh myself before putting my dress back on. When I get out, I'm startled by a presence beside the door.

" That was an impressive sweetheart," he says, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

He's tall, masculine, and hot. His voice is thick with a clear accent, probably not from here. He looks like a man not to be messed with.

"Thank you," I say, grabbing my jacket and ready to leave." You got my room all messy, angel," he smirks, and I roll my eyes.

So he's the owner of the club? The Armani suit he's wearing holds tightly to his broad arms, and his black shiny leather shoes show just how well-off he is.

"I will have someone clean it up, if you excuse me, I would like to get home." I put my coat on, tucking my hands in the pockets, imitating him.

"Do you know who I am?" he raises his eyebrow questioningly at me. He's attractive, and he has tattoos peeking from the collars of his shirt and chest.

Deep brown eyes stare at me with a sharp jaw and a stern face. I have never seen him before.

"Nope, am I supposed to know you?" I wonder, furrowing my brows in confusion.

"Soon, angel, soon. I will have people clean the room.

Go home," he dismissed. I left the club with one question in mind.

Who is he?