Chapter 26 #2
In the center is a large metal bed-like contraption, but it lacks the warmth and comfort the word bed denotes. It has stirrups with foot and hand straps. It is angled upwards, and in front of the other end is a very large cream dildo strapped to a machine bolted into the ground.
I step into the container, my eyes wide as my gaze flits from one torture device to another. There are various collars, some with double-edged spikes and others with tiny needles along the underside. Some even look like the ones you would put on a dog, sending electricity through the body.
At the back of the container is another large device, which straps attached to a board in the shape of a human body.
This one can rotate in different directions, spinning whoever was on it in various directions.
By the looks of it, you could also keep a person upside down by using a latch on the underside to secure the position.
Something on the table next to this contraption catches my eye, and when I approach it, Damon joins me there.
I pick up a glass bottle, the creamy white substance inside moving as I do. Is it some sort of lubrication gel?
“What is it?”
“Semen.” I place it carefully with the rest and take a step backward. It is lubrication, just not the one I was thinking of. There must be about ten eight-ounce glass jars here.
“They were kept chilled.” Damon picks up a sizeable bulbous pump, the phallus shape of them already alluding to their use.
“You fill these up and then insert it into the vagina. Using the machine to turn you upside down so it doesn’t run out,” he says, pointing to the contraption behind me.
I’ve been so caught up in my emotions that it is only now, as I look at Damon, that I truly see the rage he is trying to keep a tight reign on.
His other hand is fisted, and his jaw ticks with restraint.
His eyes are also almost black. The frame of his body is rigid.
Granite. He is a pressure cooker waiting to explode.
And after seeing this, I don’t blame him.
This room was designed for me and intended for more of what he had given me in Lady Chatman's bathroom.
“You are not his first. Gavin stumbled across a case from seven years ago. A woman was found badly beaten, her throat cut, and left for dead in a secluded part of the forest. Somehow, her jugular vein was missed, and after lying there for three hours using her panties the attacker shoved in her mouth as a bandage for her neck, she crawled onto a walking path. A hiker found her. She was in the ICU for months, and they thought she would never speak again. But a few months later, she was able to tell the police about her ordeal.” My eyes drift to the folder in his hand containing the information he is relaying.
“She describes a room like that. She even describes glass jars filled with semen similar to this. She was kept for a year, and when she couldn’t conceive, he decided to kill her. They never caught her attacker, but here is a sketch.”
He pulls out a paper and there, staring back at me, is Lowrens.
He is plain-looking, but that might be the problem.
He could be mistaken for any number of people.
But now that I have seen him, the resemblance is spot on.
Especially his eyes. His victim managed to depict them in the same way I remember them from the bathroom.
“She is probably not his first.”
I hand him the picture and then look around the room again as the scope of his intentions really sinks in. I was going to be a prisoner, used for sex and bred, maybe even murdered .
“I’m sorry, but it's time.”
Lowrens is dragged in, the look of shock on his face priceless.
Damon points to the weird bed-like contraption. His guards drag him over to it, laying him face down before strapping his hands and feet.
Damon walks over to the collars and grabs one with a double-edged spike. When he turns, and Lowrens sees it, he shakes his head vigorously, his eyes pleading. But no one here will answer with mercy. He has shown none to the people he has done bad things to.
With the help of one of Damon's guards, the collar is strapped around Lowrens’ neck, and only now do I realize how horrific it really is. It is a torture tool used to keep your face angled up. If you didn’t, the double-pronged sharp points dug into the skin under your chin or on the upper sternum.
Pushing the bed forward, I could now see the complete picture as Lowrens' face is brought closer to the cock attached to the machine just in front of it.
Without the tape, his mouth would be at the right angle for penetration.
Depending on where the bed was positioned, the depth could vary.
Especially if there was penetration from the back and the bed slid forward.
I think of the girl who went through this, and I cannot feel sorry for this monster.
I stumble back as movement behind me catches my attention.
A massive man, clad in chains, is brought in.
His prison jumpsuit strains against his enormous frame, looking two sizes too small for someone this size.
His muscles bulge, and the veins on his neck are raised.
He has a tear tattoo under his left eye, and when his gaze catches mine, I am floored by the color—a brilliant turquoise, like the beaches of Cancun.
“This is Bobby ‘one fist’ Brown. He is in prison for murder. Though his victims are specific. He only targets rapists. And his name has been earned in the very specific way he delivers justice to the victims of those monsters. I thought these two should meet.”
I snap my mouth shut when I realize it is hanging open. Damon’s words form a jumbled image in my mind, merging with the image in reality. It was clear what would happen here.
Bobby eyes Lowrens, whose ass is spread wide thanks to the straps and design of the metal bed. His hearing is not impaired, so his eyes are as wide as mine, understanding like I have what is about to happen to him.
“Come. You won’t stay for this. The sedative should kick in soon, and when you wake up, everything will be over.”
“Sedative?” I ask, confused.
He points to the bottle of water I slipped into my jacket pocket.
“Don’t be angry with me. I think staying awake and mulling over this is not useful. You have been through a lot. Bob will take you home to sleep. I will be there when this is done.”
As if his words create the feeling, I start feeling sleepy, even yawning before capturing it with my palm. I’m not angry with him. I don’t have the energy to be. It has been a lot. There is no denying it, and this is precisely what I want. To escape, even just for a short while.
Bob is standing at the entrance to the warehouse, his eyes everywhere as usual. Always watching.
Damon stops us just before we get to him, spinning me around to face him.
“This changes nothing between us.” He holds my hand up and kisses my finger with the ring on before leaning in and capturing my lips. The kiss is gentle and sweet, and I melt into him.
“Can’t you come with me?” I ask when we finally pull apart, his expression torn .
“I want to. But I must see this through.” I nod, understanding.
He was doing this for both of us. God knows I couldn’t see what was about to happen.
My made-up visuals were already distributing enough, imagine the reality.
A shiver racks my body at the thought, and he dips his head in Bob's direction.
“I will see you soon, rainbow.”
With a final look, I turn around and walk towards Bob, not looking back. I didn’t want to remember this place.
And I wouldn’t. After tonight, all of this would be my past. Damon would be my future.