7: Fingered and Claimed

7

Briar's POV

I was alarmed by his question, even though I shouldn’t have been. But the way he talked about killing him calmly made my stomach twist.

“How do you want him to die?” he repeated, his voice steady, his gaze fixed on my face.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to look at him.

“I don’t,” I said quickly. “I don’t want you to kill him.”

The words rushed out of me, uneven and strained. “I’m sure he’s already learned his lesson. He knows better now.”

For a moment, Azrael simply stared at me. Then he laughed. More of an amused laugh than loud and cruel.

“Oh, little kitten,” he said softly, leaning back in his chair. “You misunderstand.”

His eyes flicked toward the man hanging in chains. “He wants to die.”

My breath caught. “What?”

“He has been begging for death ever since he realized who he put his hands on.”

The man let out a broken, hoarse sound that might have been a sob or a plea, and my skin crawled.

Azrael tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a curiosity. Then, without taking his eyes off me, he lifted two fingers and gestured behind him.

“Bring him down,” he said.

Two men stepped forward from the shadows. I hadn’t even noticed them standing there. They unhooked the chains and lowered the man until his feet hit the ground. He collapsed instantly, crying out in pain.

“What are you doing?” I asked, panic rising in my chest.

Azrael didn’t answer me. “Break his bones,” he said calmly. “Start with his fingers, and make sure he stays alive until the last one.”

They dragged the man to a chair and forced him down into it, strapping him in before he could even resist. When the first crack sounded, my entire body jolted.

The scream that followed ripped through me.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, my vision blurring as the sounds piled on top of each other: the snapping, the screaming, the muffled sobs. Something inside me recoiled violently, my instincts screaming at me to get away.

I turned, my feet already moving, but a hand caught my wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Azrael asked calmly.

Before I could answer, he pulled me back, lifted me, and placed me onto his thighs with an ease of something that was familiar. I stiffened instantly.

“Watch,” he said quietly near my ear.

“What?” I whipped my head back to look at him in shock. “I can’t. I can't do that!”

Another bone snapped, and I flinched violently. My hands curled into fists in my lap, nails digging into my skin.

Azrael let out a soft, almost disappointed sound.

“Weakling,” he murmured. “And weaklings don’t have a space on Fangshire’s throne.”

Tears began to burn at the back of my eyes, as I trembled. “Please, just let me go,” I said, my voice breaking.

He didn’t loosen his hold on me. “You have to watch and get used to it. This is how you’ll treat your enemies from now on.”

Another scream echoed through, and my trembling worsened. I couldn’t stop it. My breath came faster and uneven, my entire body reacting against my will.

Azrael's grip tightened slightly, and when he spoke again, his voice was a guttural groan, “If you can’t calm down, then perhaps I should give you a better reason to tremble.”

His palm slid slowly over my thigh.

And suddenly, my fear took on an entirely different meaning as I realized exactly what he was about to do.

My eyes widened in alarm.

“No,” I yelled in panic and squirmed to get off his thighs, “you can't do this.”

He leaned over and looked at me, his dark eyes gleaming with predatory amusement.

He slipped his hand under my nightgown, and I jerked, but there was nowhere to go. The man's agonized scream cut through the air as the guard twisted his arm with a sickening crack.

“No!” I struggled in his hold, but I kept hitting solid muscle. “Let me go. I don't want this.”

Azrael’s lips curled into a smirk, and his fingers deftly pushed aside my panties, brushing against my folds, making me gasp.

He paused, his touch stilling for a heartbeat, then his eyes darkened with triumph.

“Liar,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, “you don't want this, and yet, you're soaked.”

I was soaked, my pussy lips slick and swollen, with my juices coating his fingertips as he parted me.

The man's chair scraped against the floor as he thrashed, the guard now driving a hammer into his knee, bone shattering with a wet crunch. Blood pooled, and the metallic tang mixed with the musky scent of my arousal.

My cheeks burned with shame. “Stop touching me,” I hissed, twisting my hips to escape, but Azrael's other hand gripped my thigh, holding me open.

His fingers delved deeper, sliding through my wetness with ease, circling my clit before plunging one thick digit into my tight heat, making me whimper.

“Fuck, Briar, you're dripping,” Azrael growled, his voice laced with dark delight.

He pumped his finger slowly, feeling my walls clench around him involuntarily.

“Even with that piece of shit dying right there, screaming his lungs out. Does this turn you on? Watching a rapist get what's coming to him while your cunt weeps for my touch?”

I shook my head furiously, biting my lip to stifle a moan as his finger curled inside me, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

The man's cries peaked—a guttural wail as his bones kept getting broken, and his cries filled the room. But my pussy fluttered, more slick, gushing out to coat Azrael's hand.

“No, I... I hate this,” I gasped, but my hips bucked against his hand, chasing the friction despite myself.

Azrael chuckled, low and mocking, adding a second finger, stretching me wider. He thrust them in and out with deliberate slowness, while his thumb was grinding against my clit in firm circles.

“Bullshit,” he teased, his face inches from mine, watching every twitch of my expression.

“Look at you, squirming like a needy little slut. Your pussy's sucking me in, Briar. So fucking wet and hot. Bet you love this. You love me forcing you open while the world burns around us.”

He scissored his fingers, rubbing my inner walls, the wet squelch of my arousal obscene over the man's fading whimpers.

One of the men had moved on, now using pliers to break the man's toes one by one, each crack eliciting a fresh scream that turned into sobs.

Blood dripped steadily, the floor slick with it, and my eyes darted there, transfixed by the horror. But Azrael's fingers didn't relent; he fucked me harder now, three fingers plunging deep, his palm slapping against my mound with each drive.

“Azrael, please…” I whimpered, my resistance crumbling as pleasure coiled tight in my belly.

My hands clutched at his thighs, nails digging in, not pushing away anymore, but holding him to steady myself to move my hips.

“That's it, ride my fingers,” Azrael commanded, his voice rough with lust, “my sweet little girl.”

He leaned in, nipping at my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse. “Feel how your body's begging for it? Clenching so tight, like it never wants me to stop. You're gonna cum for me, aren't you? Right here, with a rapist stinking up the room.'

My breath hitched, my thighs quivering as I ground down on his hand, my clit throbbing under his thumb.

The sounds—the wet slide of his fingers in my sopping pussy, the man's last rattle as life left him—pushed me over the edge.

Shame burned through me, but so did the ecstasy, wild and consuming.

“Oh god, Azrael... fuck!” I cried out, my voice breaking as my orgasm crashed over me.

My pussy spasmed around his fingers, walls milking them in rhythmic pulses, a gush of cream squirting out to soak his wrist.

I rode the waves, hips jerking erratically, my back arching off him as pleasure ripped through me, making my toes curl.

Azrael didn't stop, drawing out my climax with expert twists of his fingers, teasing my oversensitive clit until I sobbed from the intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmured, finally withdrawing his hand, holding it up so I could see my juices glistening on his skin.

He smeared them across my lips, forcing me to taste myself.

The man's corpse hung limp, eyes vacant, but I could only focus on Azrael's intense gaze, my body still humming from my release and my heart racing wildly while Azrael grinned at me.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, my little kitten.”