Dayanara #2
“You sick son of a bitch! How can you lie there and say that shit!? They’ll never want you. They hate you. You’re a fucking sick monster. I only pretended to believe in your goddamn rants to get close to you. To bring about this here. I want you dead!” Jess snarled. Someone had slipped off the gag.
“No, don’t say that, Jess. We’re best friends. I love your sisters. They’re meant to be my wives. Make them see and let me go,” Marshall begged.
“I’m sick of his voice. Put the guard and cloth back, please,” I stated.
They did as I asked, even as Marshall tried to wiggle his head to avoid it.
Once it was all back in place, I poured again.
I did it a total of four times. Each time, his fear increased, knowing what to expect, and from worrying if I’d go too far and actually drown him.
I played a mental and physical torture game. It was one I knew well.
After the fourth time, as he lay there gasping, Payne shook his head. “Damn, my brothers have found themselves a gem. I can’t wait to see what else you do.”
“Thank you. I think for my next act, I should get things a little bloody. After all, you went to all this trouble to get me these protective barriers.”
I reached to the back of my neck, under my shirt. There was a sliding sound as I brought out my knife. As the light glinted off the shiny blade, Marshall whimpered.
“No, you can’t do this to me. Please, Daya, listen to me. You need to let me explain. I want to see Breezy. Bring her to me,” Marshall demanded.
“She’s right here,” Stryder said.
I’d noticed he’d gone outside, but I thought it was to get some air. I was wrong. He led my sister inside. Her gaze instantly zeroed in on our abuser.
“Stryder, why did you bring her here?” I demanded to know.
“She texted me and insisted she had to be here. She said she’d come herself if I didn’t get her.
She has the same right to see this through, Daya.
I don’t want her to witness it, but she claims it’s the only way she can fully heal.
She needs to know he’s gone and to get some of her rage out,” my cousin explained.
I understood her need. I just didn’t want her to witness the ugliness or to see me as the one doing it.
“Breezy,” I said, but she prevented me from saying more.
“Do you think anything you do to him is worse than what I’ve dreamed of doing these past six years?
That I haven’t plotted out elaborate ways to torture him?
Don’t mistake my nature to mean I’m not capable of it.
I need this, Daya. I have to watch the monster die.
” Her tone was steady and firm. Determination was written all over her face. Seeing that, I couldn’t send her away.
“Okay, then stay. But if you feel the need to leave, do it. Don’t stay to prove anything,” I replied. She stood next to our cousin, who wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“Breezy, please come here. I need to talk to you. I love you. I know you love me, too. Don’t let them do this to us,” Marshall pleaded. Before I could ask for more duct tape, Predator slapped a new piece over his mouth. I gave him a grateful smile.
“Where was I? Oh, I remember. I was about to introduce you to a friend of mine. This guy here has been through so much with me. You know, Marshall, you were always so vain. You knew you were handsome, and you had a nice body. First, girls, then women, were always fawning over you. You used it to your advantage. I heard you when I was young, bragging to Jess about it. You used them and then tossed them aside, even as a teenager. I think the outside should match the inside.”
He tried to move away, but it was in vain. He was still restrained. The muffled words grew in volume as he shook his head. His eyes were so wide open, I saw white all around the irises.
I started with his face. I made two-inch slices on his cheeks, chin, forehead, and then across his nose.
His screams were evident despite the tape.
Tears ran down his face, mingling with the blood, making the cuts sting worse.
I didn’t go deep. I wasn’t trying to have him bleed out.
They went only deep enough to open the skin and scratch the underlying layer.
From there, I methodically worked my way down the front of his body, though I skipped over his cock.
His sigh of relief made me smirk. He had no idea I had plans for that useless piece of flesh later.
Even the soles of his feet and palms of his hands weren’t spared.
Blood dripped from the table. Luckily, next to the table on the floor, there was a drain. Cleanup would be easy.
When I finished, I faced my audience. There had been murmurs of approval, a few hisses, and more. No one seemed upset at being left to watch. Breezy was a tad pale, but she was standing tall.
“Would you happen to have any salt here? I forgot to bring any from the house,” I said to the bunch as a whole.
“Sure do,” Stalker said. He went to one of the cabinets and came back with a large container.
“I want to help,” Breezy called out as she stepped forward.
“You need to have a getup like mine,” I told her.
Within no time, she was outfitted in the same, down to the gloves. Once she was, I pointed to the opposite side of the table. She took up a spot there and held out her hands. I poured a decent amount of salt into her gloved hands.
“Rub the salt in nice and deep. We want him to feel it,” I told her.
“Got it,” she said.
Methodically, with me taking one half of his face and body and her the other, we coated the cuts in salt and rubbed.
His muffled cries grew again. Tears poured down his face.
He gave us incredulous looks. The fucker still didn’t get it.
When we were finished, his entire body shook.
The salt helped to slow the bleeding. Stepping away.
I stripped off the bloody gloves and placed them in a bag that Renegade held out, then slipped on a clean pair. My sister did the same.
“What’s next?” Breezy asked.
“I think that I’ve been stingy. The rest of our family should be given a chance at making him suffer, including Jess. How about we give him a much-deserved beating?” I suggested.
This suggestion was met with cheers.
“I recommend we hang him up over on one of those hooks hanging from the ceiling. It’ll give us a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of his body,” Predator recommended.
“I agree,” Stalker said.
I allowed them to handle moving Marshall over.
He had to be dragged because he was shaking and refused to put pressure on his soles.
Blood streaks followed him. Once he was secure, they came back.
I watched as they all put on gloves, even Jess.
He’d been untied and allowed to participate.
I wanted to see if he would hit Marshall as hard as the others or go easy on him.
I was still deciding whether he lied. Then, to my delight, Payne came through yet again with brass knuckles for everyone.
“I take it this has been done before as a group,” I teased.
The guys surrounding us grinned.
“Ladies get first punches,” Stryder said.
The impact felt good to me. I landed two punches before allowing my place to be taken. And that was how we went, taking turns over the next fifteen minutes or so. Not a spot was safe, not even his precious cock. The first to punch him there was Breezy as she screamed out her pain.
By the time we were tired enough to take a break, he was a bloody, battered mess. Jess had hit the hardest, I think. His face had taken punishment, too. His eyes were swelling shut. Wanting to hear him again, I tore the tape off his mouth. Snot ran down his face along with tears.
“Please, please, just kill me,” he whispered.
“Did you stop when we begged? When those other girls did? No. I think you can take more,” Breezy snapped. His head dropped to hang loose on his upper chest.
We moved off to speak out of his earshot. The other Warriors joined us.
“What else do you want to do to him?” Bull asked.
I knew what my finale was to be, but before then, I thought he should suffer more.
A thought came to mind. It was something I’d seen when I was in the Marines.
It had been done to a female civilian. It made me cringe.
The same could be done to Marshall. I knew it hurt like a bitch for a guy, too, because I’d done it to the terrorist who had hurt the woman when he was captured.
“Payne, those cabinets of magic you have. Would you happen to have any needle and thread, or something along those lines?” I asked.
“I’ve got fishing line and large veterinarian needles capable of using the fishing line to make sutures. Will that work?” he asked.
“Perfect. You’re a godsend,” I told him.
As he went to get them, I gestured to Breezy to follow me. She did, displaying puzzlement.