Chapter 11
Hollow
She goes slack in my hand right as the words leave my mouth.
It’s perfect timing.
I hold her there for a second longer than necessary, feeling the last bit of fight drain out of her body, her weight settling into my grip.
There’s something satisfying about that part.
Not the struggle, but the way she falls quiet in my hold.
The control I have in this moment is consuming.
I tilt my head slightly, studying her face as it softens, as everything in her finally gives out. Then, without any rush, I loosen my grip and let her drop just enough before catching her again, this time slinging her over my shoulder like a heap of meat.
She’s lighter than I expected.
Or maybe I’m just stronger than most.
Either way, it works.
I turn, already moving, boots echoing down the hallway as I carry her back the way she came.
There’s a faint smear of blood trailing behind us from her leg.
I notice it, but I don’t stop.
Once I reach the security room, I give the door a sharp kick, sending it slamming open as it thuds hard against the wall.
I notice him right away, leaning back against the desk, his head tipped to the side as he lazily moves the flashlight in his hand, letting the beam drift back and forth in slow sweeps.
Garrett sits across the room, partially awake now.
Barely.
His head hangs forward, shoulders slumped while his body is tied tight to the chair.
His pants are back on, but that doesn’t change what’s missing.
I step inside a few feet and kick the door shut behind me before crossing the room.
I drop her into the chair opposite of him.
Her body slumps forward at first since she’s still fully out, but I grab her by the back of the neck and pull her upright, forcing her head back into place.
I reach for the rope already laid out and tie her wrists to the chair first. I pull them firmly behind it, binding them tight enough that there’s no give, no chance of slipping free when she comes to.
Then I continue on to her ankles.
I crouch, dragging her legs into position. The one fucked up leg is still oozing blood, but seems to be slowing as old blood dries around it.
I tie them down just as tight, anchoring her to the chair.
Once I straighten, I take a step back to take it all in.
Garrett lifts his head slowly, eyes unfocused at first before landing on her.
A small amount of adrenaline jolts him fully awake as he finally notices that she’s in the room with him.
That she’s still alive.
His body jerks against the restraints, a rough grunt sliding from him as he fights against the chair.
“V- Vicky.”
I glance over at my partner, “That sedative you gave him doesn’t seem to be working that well.” My eyes shift to Garrett, before they drift over to her.
My head tilts slightly as I watch her take shaky, but steady, breaths in.
My gaze lingers on my weak Puppet as her head shifts, consciousness flickering in for a moment.
“She’ll open those pretty eyes soon. Should we give her something fun to wake up to?”
I move toward Garrett, watching his eyes widen as he registers my approach. Unlike my counterpart, I don’t need chaos to achieve my goals. I prefer precision in the acts I commit.
“I think we should give him something to remember us by,” I say, voice smooth behind my mask. “Something more.. artistic.”
My partner laughs, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Yes! Like a painting.”
I pull my switchblade from my back pocket; different from the hunting knife my partner prefers. This one’s blade is sharper and less prone to jagged lines. Garrett thrashes against his restraints as I approach, but it’s futile.
“Hold him. I don’t want to mess up the design.” I lean in toward Garrett’s face. “There’s no fixing it once I start.”
My partner circles behind Garrett’s chair, gripping his head with both hands, forcing him to face forward. I lean down, bringing the blade close to his face.
“You know what’s fascinating about facial scars?” I ask, pressing just enough to dimple the skin of his forehead without breaking it. “They tell stories. And yours will say cheater for the rest of your life.”
I slice the first letter in slowly. Blood wells immediately, trickling down his face as he screams. I make another cut, spelling out the word I promised he’d have forever. “Perfect,” I murmur, admiring my work as I finish up the last letter.
My partner grows restless behind him, his breathing heavy with excitement. I step aside, giving him room.
“He’s all yours,” I say.
He doesn’t waste time. He circles to face Garrett, undoing his pants with frantic movements. Garrett tries to turn away, but my partner grips his jaw, forcing him to look up.
“You like cock so much?” he taunts, stroking himself roughly. “I bet you’ll take this so fucking good.”
Garrett’s eyes squeeze shut, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood from his fresh wounds.
“Open your fucking eyes!” my partner shouts, slapping Garrett hard across his face with his cock. “Watch me.”
Slap.
“Watch!”
Garrett’s eyes snap open, terror evident in his gaze. My partner continues stroking, his movements growing erratic, his breathing ragged. “Open your mouth,” he growls at Garrett.
When Garrett keeps his lips pressed firmly together, I reach around and pinch his nose shut. Eventually, his survival instinct kicks in and his mouth opens with a desperate gasp for air.
“That’s it,” my partner moans, positioning himself inches from Garrett’s face. “Take it all.”
He finishes with a guttural groan, his release spattering across Garrett’s face; across his cheeks, the cuts on his head and into his unwillingly open mouth. Garrett retches, choking on the warm fluid.
“How’s that feel?” my partner asks, voice husky. “Nice and warm, right? Just how you like it.”
Garrett sobs, his entire body trembling.
My partner laughs manically and continues. “Extra protein! Rub it right in. It’s great for the skin.”
I watch dispassionately, then step forward once my partner steps back. I run my fingers through the sticky substance on Garrett’s face, collecting it deliberately.
With the substance coating my fingers, I turn toward Puppet, who’s beginning to stir in her chair. Her eyelids flutter as consciousness slowly, but fully, returns.
I approach her with measured steps, my cum-coated fingers extended. When I reach her, I run my fingers over her chapped lips, lubricating them.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, admiring it as if it were my cum on her lips instead.
Puppet’s eyes open fully now, confusion giving way to horror as she realizes what’s happening. She tries to jerk away, but the ropes hold her firmly in place.
“Hello, Puppet,” I say, voice low. “Hope you’re not too upset. We got a little creative with your ex while you were sleeping.”
Her gaze moves to Garrett’s face. Understanding dawns as she looks at his coated skin. She retches, though nothing comes up.
“You’re both sick,” she manages to say, voice hoarse from her earlier screaming.
“V- Vicky, don’t t- talk to them.” Garrett stutters out.
I raise a brow under my mask and look at her, “Perhaps,” I acknowledge.
I turn to my partner, who’s watching with obvious delight. “I think it’s time we move to phase two, don’t you?”
He nods eagerly as he puts his dick away, already reaching for his bag of tools.
“You see, Puppet,” I whisper, dragging my fingers down her shoulders, savoring the tension in her body, “all of this foreplay has been just that. Foreplay.”
A soft chuckle slips out. “We’re just getting started.”
I lean closer, voice shifting into a darker tone.
“Now we get to have some real fun with you.”