Chapter 42: Diego

The thick, heavy door swung open and Diego strode in, his arm slung casually around Santos’ shoulder like they were old drinking buddies swapping war stories. Diego’s laughter, low and mocking, cutting through the thick air of the room. Santos walked beside him, his face a mask of stoic calm, but I caught the misery etched in the tight lines around his mouth, the way his jaw clenched just a fraction too hard. When his eyes landed on me standing there handcuffed, mouth sealed with that cruel chain, the new tattoos and piercings, he froze for a split second and the mask nearly slipped. Rage flashed in his dark gaze, raw and unguarded, before he swallowed it down, forcing his expression back to neutral.

Diego noticed me too, his eyes lighting up with possessive glee. He waved a hand in my direction like I was some prized filly he’d just won at auction. ‘Look at this one, Santos,’ he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. ‘What a night she put on. Strung up from the chandelier like a goddamn piñata, her mind shattered by that VR hypnosis. Then fucked raw by two horses, one after the other. She’s broken now, completely obedient. This slut will do anything I say.’ He jabbed a thick finger into Santos’ chest, hard enough to make him wince. ‘You did a fantastic job training her, mi amigo. But you shouldn’t have lied, shouldn’t have hidden her away like your little secret. That was a mistake.’

Diego’s gaze shifted to my mouth, the chain glinting under the room’s dim lights. ‘My men just told me about this lip chain trick. Sounds fun. Gotta try it myself.’ He undid the knot on the chain, yanked the drawstring loose just enough to part my lips. His free hand unzipped his pants, pulling out his thick cock, already half-hard and veined from the evening’s indulgences. He forced it between my plump lips, tugging the chain tight to seal me around him like a custom fleshlight. The metal bit into my skin, holding me locked in place as he thrust forward, filling my toothless mouth completely.

My forked tongue twisted helplessly against his shaft, the split tip sliding along the underside while my bare gums rubbed slick and smooth over every inch. I bobbed as best I could, the chain restricting my movement, making each suck a strained, airtight pull. Santos stood there, watching it all, his eyes locked on mine with barely contained fury. Diego groaned, gripping my bald head, but after a few minutes, his thrusts grew sharper, more frustrated. ‘Not good enough,’ he snarled, pulling a sleek pistol from his waistband. The cold barrel pressed against my temple, the metal chilling my scalp as he held it steady. ‘Do better, puta. Suck like your worthless life depends on it.’

The gun motivated me. For someone who was already dead, why did I want to live so badly? A bullet through the brain would be a sweet release, an instantaneous death, a mercy. The final punishment for my sins. A reason to live? I glanced at Santos. Love had been better than any drug. I wanted to feel it again. Adrenaline spiked through my veins as I redoubled my efforts. I hollowed my cheeks, my tongue flicking desperately, gums massaging him with wet, sliding pressure. Diego’s hips bucked, but his eyes flicked to Santos, catching the subtle widening of his stare, the fear that cracked his impassive facade. A slow, evil grin spread across Diego’s face. ‘You love this slut, don’t you? Like, really love her. That’s why you didn’t want to share, why you’ve been acting all strange around her.’ He laughed. ‘Pathetic.’ Diego pointed the gun at Santos. ‘Strip, Santos. Now.’

Santos didn’t move at first, his body rigid. Diego cocked the gun with a sharp click, aimed it back at my head. ‘I said strip.’ Reluctantly, Santos peeled off his shirt, revealing the lean muscles scarred from years of hard living, then dropped his pants, his thick, long cock hanging heavy between his legs. Naked and exposed, he stood there, vulnerability twisting his features. Diego waved the gun toward the armchair in the corner, its leather worn and shadowed. ‘Sit. Watch me finish with your whore.’

I glanced at Santos as he sank into the chair, his eyes meeting mine— a storm of anger, love, and helplessness swirling there. It broke something in me, but I couldn’t speak, couldn’t reach him. Diego yanked the chain harder, fucking my face with renewed vigor, the gun still pressed to my head. His cock throbbed, swelling as he chased his release. With a guttural grunt, he buried himself deep and came, hot ropes of cum flooding my throat. I swallowed it all, the bitter salt coating my tongue, my stomach twisting with revulsion, not at the act or even the cum, but at Diego.

He pulled out, wiping his cock on my cheek before resealing the chain tight across my lips. ‘On your hands and knees, bitch.’ I dropped to the floor, the rug’s coarse fibers tickling knees and palms. Diego settled into the chair next to Santos, his cock still flopping out of his pants, propping his boots on my back like I was furniture. The weight pressed down, my pierced back arching under the strain. ‘You too,’ he ordered Santos, waving the gun lazily. ‘Put your feet up. Or do I need to make an example?’ Santos hesitated, then complied, his bare feet resting on my shoulders, the warmth of his skin a cruel contrast to Diego’s cold leather. I trembled beneath them, my body a living footstool, the chain forcing me to breathe through my nose.

Diego lit a thick cigar, the flame flickering in the low light as he puffed, acrid smoke curling toward the ceiling mirrors. He tapped the ash onto my back, the burning flecks searing my tattooed skin, making me flinch. Another tap, then another, the heat blooming into red welts. ‘You know,’ he said, exhaling a cloud that hung heavy, ‘I wasn’t always like this. Back in my youth, I was an idealistic kid, happy as hell. Just wanted to help people, make the world better. But life has a way of breaking you.’ He took a long drag, his voice turning reflective, almost wistful.