“I was just going to say don’t let Samantha or her friends get to you. They’re bitches on a good day,” he says, and I nearly full belly laugh.
“Oh, that is the understatement of the year. I think you’re being far too kind with that assessment. She’s a step away from being called a cunt and I don’t like calling any woman a cunt. Woman solidarity and all that jazz. You know pussy power.” I know I am rambling at this point, but I keep going, “Her and her boyfriend, aka your boy Rowan, are King and Queen of the pompous douche club and can eat a bag of diseased dicks.”
With that, he fully belly laughs, mirth filling his eyes, but there’s something else there. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like his eyes are hiding the true nature of his soul.
I shake my head clear. Even if there’s more, it’s not my job to figure it out.
“Rowan is a good guy, I think you both just got off on the wrong foot. Just give him a chance.”
Now, I’m the one amused. Chuckling, I retort, “Yeah, Rowan calling me trash totally signals that he’s a ‘good guy’ and that I should give the asshole another chance.”
His eyes shadow, and this time I catch a glimpse of the darkness before it vanishes. Knowing I need to end this, I steel my spine and explain, “Look, I don’t have time for any more drama. So, I’ll stay in my lane, and your merry band of shitheads can live happily ever after.”
His lips part to speak when one of Sam’s clones, Brittany I believe, comes over and drapes herself on his arm.
“Karl baby, what are you doing over here with the help? Your food is getting cold.”
Yup, time to go. I’m not interested in watching any more of this bullshit play out. My patience can only be asked to do so much before it runs out, and I need this job. I swear if my siblings weren’t already falling in love with this town, I would convince Mom we should leave. These people are far too much. But I’d do anything for them, including putting up with petty barbs about being the help.
Sighing, I sidestep Karl’s hand and start on my side work, hoping these assholes don’t take all night.
KARL
The sharp tang of blood fills my nostrils as the whirring of the whip flies through the air. Garbled moans sing across the black walls lined with metal Victorian-aged sconces, finished in Corsican gold, bringing warm glowing light into the room.
The man reversely strapped, his back exposed, to the cherry wood St. Andrews cross, wrists bound by barbed wire, is not here for pleasure. His fate is far worse.
“What did you think would happen to you Glen? Did you think there would be a reprieve for you because your uncle is a member of the council?” August asks, cracking the glass and razor-lined whip against his ass this time. Glen’s back is riddled with shards of glass embedded in his flesh.
August’s playing with his food again. Glen can’t answer. He’s been gagged with a nine-inch cock, modeled after yours truly. I grin at the thought that he’s choking on my dick.
“Stop toying with him, Wy, and remember not to kill him. We need answers and his uncle wants him to be taught a lesson, not murdered,” Liam reminds him from the other side of the room, taking a moment to look away from his computer screen before bringing a chilled glass of amber liquid to his lips.
August’s lips pull down into a frown, going from gleeful to petulant because his toy is being taken from him.
“Fine. He’s all yours Karl,” he huffs, skulking to the bar to pour himself a drink.
Now the fun can begin.
Removing my coal-colored leather jacket, I place it on the back of the matching-colored couch with one hand, while using the other to grab my Nimravus Tanto aluminum-handled blade from its sheath.
I tsk. “Glen, you’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?” Chuckling, I approach my prey. “How does it feel to be choking balls deep on my dick?” I tease.
Grunting protests cause a stirring in my groin as I begin to make shallow slices along his exposed ribs.
I’m not into men. I’m into screams and the feel of pain, with no gender discrimination- pain doesn’t care what your sex is. I’m going to need to fuck after this.
Leaning down so he can feel the bass of my voice rumble in his ear, I say, “I’m going to pull my dick from your mouth and you’re going to answer all of our questions. If you don’t, my fake cock will be filling another hole. Nod if you understand.”
The slow up and down shake of his head confirms his willingness to cooperate as August makes his way over from the bar.
Smiling at his surrender, I pat his cheek with my blood-covered blade before I speak, “Good boy.”
August removes the gag and Glen splutters, sucking precious air into his lungs.
His choked inhales trap me. I remember a time when my life was almost choked out of me. A time when I was at the mercy of people who wanted to try and ruin the Fraternitas. So, they decided to take its heirs. They only were able to get to two of us- Liam and me, but I was the only one taken.
I shudder at the memory and the feelings they invoke. Channeling that rage, I turn back to the outlet that I hope will help release my demons.
Seeing the storm in my eyes, Rowan grabs my shoulder. “Don’t let the demons pull you under, brother.”
Meeting the worried espresso gaze, I give him a quick nod. “I’ve got this.”
Taking a quick cleansing breath, I mentally put my mask firmly back in place. Thoughts of that week of my life still cause my body to tense. A lot can happen to a ten-year-old boy when in captivity, even for only a week.
“Now Glen, what was your business with the Senator?” I ask, clearing my head of all distractions so I can inhale all of my prey’s fears.
This is where I am most alive. These moments of seeing the trembles of terror shake from their bodies and the taste of their pain is still the best meal I’ve ever had.
“Go fu-uck you-yourself,” Glen rasps. My smile grows.
Glen really wants to play.
“Oh no, Glenny, it’s not me who’ll be getting fucked,” I croon, grabbing the dildo from August’s hold. “The question is, will it be with or without vaseline?”
He starts to thrash, ignoring the tearing at the flesh on his wrists, threatening to cut an artery and bleed out.
We can’t have that.
“Wy, why don’t we remove the barbed wire? It seems Glen would rather die than be ass fucked,” I instruct while I grab the booty tape. As August works, I squat so my head is level with his hip, applying the strips to pull his anus into view.
“No lubrication for you. You’ve been a bad boy. Didn’t your Mommy ever teach you to watch your fucking mouth or at the very least be weary of the monsters under your bed?” I question, tilting my cold stare into his water-ridden blue eyes.
“Do I get a turn?” August asks, having finished removing the wire from Glen’s wrists, which are still bound by the leather straps of the cross.
“No Wy. Come have a seat and let Karl get answers,” Rowan states from his perch on the couch. August tenses for a moment but complies, understanding that answers are more important than bickering.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.