Coming into focus before anything else was the business of a colt .45 resting just inside the bars of what he realizes is a cage. His cage. Cain’s surprise at the gravity of his situation could only be bested by the beautiful woman staring him down, her upper lip curling into a sneer with each passing second that he knelt there agape.
“Yes, even a useless shit for brains like you can recognize how truly well fucked you are,” She tossed her head slightly and puffed out a manic chuckle, then her eyes snapped back to pin him once more like a pair of nail-drivers. “and doubly so, because Constance knows how much I absolutely HATE babysitting detail,” leather creaked as the woman uncrossed her legs and leaned forward on her stool. “Now that you’re awake, we’re going to remedy that. You’re going to keep me entertained, else I might get bored and just blow your fucking brains out. Then I could order tacos.”
Cain’s captor reached over with her left hand and placed the lit cigarette between her lips, took a slow drag, then casually racked the pistol. “Wait! Stop, please!” Cain flung a hand out against the bars and knelt in supplication, starting to hyperventilate. “Please, I’ll do anything, just tell me…” his words trailed off as he beheld the unpredictable madness in this woman’s eyes and words failed.
Her sneer returned with a mixture of amusement and contempt as she pulled the cig from her lip and ashed it into Cain’s face. Then in a movement so fast barely saw it, her boot swung up and pistoned him in the gut, and Cain found himself doubled over and dry heaving, his vision blurry again but with tears. “That’s better,” with a viper’s sweetness “lower. Now we’ll begin. Wrap your lips around this heel, and start sucking. You’d better do a real fucking good job too, because if you cant get me off I’m going to punch it through your eye socket.” …