56. Cal Walker
Alexa, play: Deep End - Vanthe, Awon, Melrose Avenue
“ T his way, Mr. Walker.”
I followed Damian into a room I hadn’t seen in years. It was damp and rectangular in shape. A green moss had begun to grow in a thin, slimy film on the walls. There was a large steel bathtub in the center of the floor, though I knew from experience the faucets weren’t attached to anything. The water came from the hoses fastened to various spigots around the perimeter of the room.
The tub was bolted to the ground, and chains that ended with manacles were fastened to the feet of the basin.
McGreggor stood next to the tub in full Kevlar, holding an AK-47.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. If it came down to me and McGreggor in a fight, I would win. The only reason I was going along with this at all was to appease fucking Damian enough that he wouldn’t go after Ryan.
The extra muscle was unnecessary.
“Undress,” Ryker ordered, and I didn’t hesitate. I unzipped my hoodie and discarded it before undoing my jeans.
Stepping out of my boxers, I turned to Damian, raising an eyebrow. I knew what came next, but he wanted to order me to do it. It took the fun out of it if I did it before he had a chance to lord his power over me.
“Into the tub, Callum,” he drawled, and I tongued my lip ring in agitation.
This was gonna fucking suck.
Climbing into the rusty, cold basin, I leaned back against the end without a faucet and held my wrists up. McGreggor came forward and fastened the manacles to my arms, and I sneered at him while he chained me up.
“My eyes are up here, McGreggs,” I taunted him, and his face went red with fury, which gave me a small pulse of satisfaction.
“We’ll see how witty you’re feeling after a few days of fucking torture, asshole.”
I shrugged and leaned my head back against the tub, closing my eyes like I was settling into a nice long day at the spa.
“Do your worst, McGreggs. Show me what you got.”
“Enough. Both of you,” Damian snapped, and I peeked at him out from under my eyelashes, tugging slightly on my newly chained arms to see how much give I had.
Not fucking much.
Boo.
Maybe McGreggs wasn’t as much of a dumbass as I originally gave him credit for. I hated it when the plebs proved me wrong.
Womp womp.
“So what are we starting with?” I drawled, feigning interest. “Waterboarding? Shock therapy? Fingernail removal? What’s on the agenda?”
“Callum. I. Said. Enough ,” Ryker warned, and I let out an annoyed huff.
Opening my eyes, I watched him bend down to pick up one of the hoses, turning on the spigot.
My skin turned to gooseflesh. I knew it was going to be cold as fuck. It was already pretty chilly in here; getting soaked with freezing water was going to be hella uncomfortable.
“Spray him down,” Damian said, handing the hose to McGreggor, who gave me a sadistic smirk.
“Gladly.” He grinned, cranking the nozzle on the hose to what I was sure was fucking pressure washer levels of intensity before blasting me directly in the chest with it.
I tensed and grit my teeth against the freezing spray as he leisurely cut the water stream across my naked body. He intentionally passed it over my dick, and I snarled at him, jerking at the rusty chains that prevented me from attacking his bitch ass for being such a cunt.
“Enough,” Ryker ordered, and the water immediately stopped. I was unable to keep myself from shivering. My teeth chattered without my permission as I glanced over at Ryker, who was fiddling with what looked like a Bluetooth speaker and my phone.
“Now, let’s see what you have on your most played list, Callum,” Damian drawled, and I frowned.
What was this asshole doing?
He used my face to unlock my phone and connected it to the speaker before turning on one of my favorite dubstep playlists. He made a face, shaking his head in disappointment.
“You have such terrible taste in music,” he drawled, and I shrugged.
“Don’t listen to it, then.”
“Oh no, Callum. We’re going to listen to it together every day. When your music plays, you’ll know it’s time for a session.”
I narrowed my eyes on him.
What was he up to?
“Then when we’re done here, every time you listen to your shitty music, you’ll remember who you belong to and the lessons you’re going to learn right here, in this room.”
“Jesus Christ, Damian. You really are a fucking prick,” I growled through chattering teeth. I was fucking freezing and already so uncomfortable that the dubstep was grating on my nerves more than soothing me like it normally did.
The echo of the music ringing through the concrete room wasn’t helping either.
“We’ll also use it to make sure you don’t get too much sleep.”
“Perfect. Can’t wait,” I snapped, and McGregor slipped out of the room as Damian perched on the edge of the tub.
I glared at him as he reached forward and stroked the side of my face, looking at me with an expression that was almost tender.
“I’m doing this for your own good, Callum. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll thank me for this later.”
I highly fucking doubt that, ass wipe.
McGreggor reappeared, but now, instead of the gun, he was holding a long black stick with two prongs on the end.
I knew exactly what it was the second I laid eyes on it.
Mother fucker.
This was why he hosed me down. That was an electric cattle prodder.
It would have sucked on its own, but wet, I was going to feel that shit through my entire body.
“Now. Let’s begin. Who is it you belong to, Callum?”
I eyed McGreggor warily as he circled the basin, settling on the opposite side of Damian. Sighing, I closed my eyes and dropped my head back against the tub, imagining the way Ryan’s cheeks had flushed the night before when he asked me to stay over.
“You. I belong to you, Damian,” I lied, only to immediately scream as the cattle prodder was rammed into my ribcage. The shock tore through my entire body, rattling my teeth and my bones so hard I could barely think.
The pain felt like it lasted forever, but it likely barely lasted a few seconds.
I was panting and groaning by the time McGreggor pulled back, and I jerked away from Damian’s hand as he ran his fingers through my hair, making soothing sounds in the back of his throat.
“Hmm. I don’t think you believe that, Callum. Not yet. But don’t worry. We’ll get there.” He hummed, and he turned the volume on my phone up, cranking the dubstep louder.
“Again. Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I whispered, this time bracing for the shock before it came, though it didn’t do much to alleviate the agonizing pain that tore through me.
I thrashed in the tub so violently that my chains rattled. McGreggor held the fucking thing into me for an unreasonably long time while I seized. Damian raked his fingers through my hair over and over again for the duration of the shock, whispering fucked up words of comfort and praise to me like he wasn’t the reason this was happening to me in the first place.
“Hose him down again,” Damian ordered after McGreggor removed the prodder from my skin. I was gasping for breath when the cold stream of water hit me directly in the face. I choked and sputtered on it and was mid-cough when they hit me with the cattle prodder again.
My brain went blank, and I couldn’t think. I was pretty sure I was screaming, but I couldn’t be sure what was my voice, what was the music, and what was my imagination.
Over and over again, they alternated between the hose and the electricity, all while the pounding base of my ‘most listened to’ playlist echoed around me, competing with my screams of agony.
I tried to think of Ryan, Vox, Naomi, and Cass, but after enough time, I couldn’t really think of anything.
Everything hurt, and I just wanted it to end.
I could do this. I could do this.
I had done it before, and I would do it again.
I just needed to convince Damian that I truly believed I belonged to him, and this would all stop.
I just didn’t know how to do that.
Not when I was starting to believe that I belonged to someone else entirely, and I think the devil with the whiskey eyes fucking knew it.