Status Updates From Twisted in Obsession (Destr...

“You were a bad, bad boy, Jericho. Time to pay,” Arrow murmurs into his ear.
I blink several times when Jericho collapses into Arrow’s arms with his eyes shut.
“Shush, Sheppy Boy. Daddy Jer is going to pay for being a selfish dick,” he hums, slightly petting Jericho’s dark hair. “Now, who wants to help me get him upstairs? He’s going to watch a wonderful show that he
can’t participate in.

“Aw. Mommy and Daddy are fighting again. Want me to hold him down, Kitten? We can slice off his nipples like pepperonis.” Arrow grins.
“Errr,” I stammer, trying to shake the imagery out of my mind. “No thanks to slicing off his nipples…” Actually, it’s probably not a bad idea. It’ll teach him some manners. Take a man’s nipples, and then, he’ll learn.

“Okay,” I say, turning toward the rock. “But if they eat me, I'll come back to haunt you.”
He grins. “If you ever die, Kitten. I'm burying myself alive with your dead body.”
“And they say romance is dead,” I murmur.

“Lie down on the rock,” he demands again, gesturing to it. “Please.” When a psycho says please, you know you're in for it. Shit.

“Kitten, do you trust me?” Arrow eyes me when I freeze and my expression goes blank.
Absolutely not. No way in hell do I trust this man. Right? I can't trust him. He's in the mafia. He lives with two other psychos. Right?
“Yes.”
Well, that was an unexpected turn of events. Apparently my mind was not on board with the whole—we don't trust this man—vibe we had going on.

I swear my fight or flight is about to kick in, and I'm a damn runner. Looking behind me, I spy the lions in the same position near the pond. In fact, their eyes have closed and they're taking a nap. So, that's a good sign, right? They nap. I run. Perfect solution.

“Lions?” I squeak, widening my eyes. “You aren't going to feed me to them, are you?”
Oh, great job, Journey. Give him ideas.
His entire body stiffens. “Only bad people meet the sharp end of my lion's teeth. Not you, Kitten. I'll let you pet them, and they'll absolutely love you. They’ll want to lick you, But they won’t. Only I can lick you.”

“How do these things fit in, Kitten?” He
shakes the box a little, listening as they rustle on the inside without a care.
“Can I put it in your pussy? Oh, there’s instructions…” he carries on about the tampon box he’s studying.

“All right, Kitten. I found them. Supers for a super good pussy.” Arrow wiggles his brows, holding up the box of tampons next to his face.
“That’s not what it means,” I grumble, swiping the box away from him. “For fuck’s sake.” I swipe a hand down my face when he grabs a box of regulars.
“Regular? But your pussy is otherworldly, not this,” he grunts, shaking the box like it has a prize inside.

“Do you think he poisoned them?” Arrow quips. “He wouldn’t. He likes your pussy too much.” I hear the grin in his voice without looking in his direction.

“My father thought I was too fucking out of my mind,” Arrow chuckles darkly. “Maybe I was. But who wouldn’t want a dead squirrel as a present? Ungrateful bastard,” he huffs under his breath. “But then I came here…” his words trail off, too, with a grunt.

“Let me cut your clothes off, Kitten. Then we can discuss letters. First, we need to punish you with our dicks,” Arrow says, yanking the small knife right out of his chest as small amounts of blood stain his black shirt. He holds it up in the moonlight, inspecting the blood on the shiny metal. “From our own kitchen, too.” He clicks his tongue at me.

“Let me cut your clothes off, Kitten. Then we can discuss letters. First, we need to punish you with our dicks,” Arrow says, yanking the small knife right out of his chest as small amounts of blood stain his black shirt. He holds it up in the moonlight, inspecting the blood on the shiny metal. “From our own kitchen, too.” He clicks his tongue at me.

You stabbed me," Arrow states without emotion, staring down at the knife hanging from his chest. “That’s fucking hot,” he basically purrs.
"Yeah, and I'll do it again. But for now, bye!" I shout, taking off through the mud and rain, weaving through the massive trees to evade capture.

“Time to strappy strappy you to the chair, big boy," I quip, humming to myself, locking several leather straps around our newest toy's limbs.

“So, you beat his ass?” I ask, leaning back into the seat.
“More than⁠
—”
“Arrow, I don’t think Journey needs to hear about your extracurricular activities with sharp objects,” Jericho reprimands, undoing the first three buttons of his white undershirt.

“Now, let's choppity chop off some fingers.” Arrow’s gleeful laugh echoes through the private lane as I take one last look around the property.