Chapter 9
Tomás
I’m a little late. Though the sunlight is fading, and my Jag has those long glints shining off its blackness, and the gravel I walk on is dulled, Aaron has remembered and opens the door for me.
“Welcome to my den of iniquity.”
He opens his arms and we exchange a quick brotherly hug.
“Chamos, what have you done with her while I was away?” I laugh. “Where is she?”
“You’ll see. I might tell you.” He grins. “You’re as interested in her as I am. Got you by the balls?”
“The dick, maybe.”
We pace down his long hallway, cut to the right toward the courtyard. Lucy races up and bounces almost into my arms, so I pat her enthusiastically—there is no other way to pat a crazy dog like her. “Such a good dog!”
She trots alongside with a ball in her mouth as we pass the fountain and head to the house’s opposite wing.
Juniper is in the entertainment-slash-living room, kneeling on the floor and wearing one of the see-through dresses Aaron often gives his temporary subs when he has them at the house. The longest he keeps them is about a month. This one, maybe less, considering she almost has a death wish.
The room seems to hold its breath when I recall that.
That red collar still binds her neck, and she’s leashed to an anchor point beside the sofa.
She half-smiles at me. Behind me, Aaron leaves the glass door open to the courtyard and Lucy enters and flops onto the rug beside this woman. She gets patted, of course. The dog is irresistible.
Juniper is the same. Simply seeing her mouth, those big eyes, remembering how fucking crazy she was to kill Nathan, it makes me want to fuck her stupid. Am I attracted to this guerrera? Of course. No matter her fierceness, this one will not be controlling us.
At my side, I curl my hands into fists then uncurl them. Aaron sits behind Juniper, caging her with his legs.
I eye them all, the dog with the tongue lolling out that radiates happiness, the murderous woman hugging Lucy’s neck, and this friend of mine who made this girl some promises he might regret.
I don’t want any of them hurt.
“The video?” I ask him.
“Play it.” He nudges the girl.
Juniper searches the floor, finds a phone and presses play. I sit next to Aaron and try to look shocked as it unspools or, at the least, surprised.
I am both of those. This is it. This is the video I took from the drone, but a small section of it. The one I sent on to Karsten. I may have deleted it off my devices, but it is the same one.
I cannot tell him this. I don’t have clearance to do this and may never get it from Karsten. I don’t know why he had me take it even. For fun? I doubt it.
“And do you think that was rape not CNC?” I gesture at the TV screen.
“That’s my question too. They almost drowned her, and she’s affected by drink, drugs, or both. I don’t know but they were careless of her safety.”
Juniper says quietly, “I always suspected she had some sort of brain damage from the drowning. It took her days to report it.” Her eyes are swimming with unshed tears when she reclines her head to look up at me.
I grunt, noncommittally. I’ve interrogated people.
I’ve killed under orders and to save my own skin, but this feels worse.
I never knew how my sister or parents died except that it was the hands of my colleagues in the secret police, and it happened after I reported something a smart man would walk past, but it ate at my conscience.
I suspect their deaths were worse than this.
I never saw them again. Their bodies vanished.
None of that helps me to lie. I can do it, but the scars of the past haunt me. I fled the country and I am here, free, and they are gone, and what am I doing? The same I always did—obey, obey orders and do not question.
The silence has stretched for too long.
I shrug. “We cannot tell, cannot say whether yes or no, this is rape. You need more than this.”
“Agree.” Aaron leans back, uses his legs across Juniper’s front to pull her into the V of his legs and the sofa’s edge.
Casually he drapes a hand over her neck, then grips the collar and turns it, as if he is saying ‘we have you now,’ I guess.
Is that him being reassuring? What happened while I was away? I have missed something, maybe.
Sex can bring more than orgasms. It gives a connection that helps center you. It brings benefits, for me, maybe for her. The remains of tears are there, but she’s rapt in him trapping her like that.
I lean closer and cup her chin so she must face me. “One cannot ignore a beautiful woman like you. Those tears? You should cry only when you must. Life is to be lived while we have it. Take the joy.” I release her, make a fist. “You must seize the joy when you can because it saves us from misery.”
Here am I being a philosopher. Me, the murderer and coward.
I brush the back of my hand over her cheek before trailing it down to her breast as Aaron shifts his leg to give me some space. She blinks and watches me do so, with her tongue poking at the inside of her mouth but giving little away as to what she is feeling, thinking.
Aaron leans further back, watching us.
So, I go to one knee and put my mouth to her breast at the tip and suck. Her body responds instantly, stiffening. She gasps as I bite her nipple. I get a squeal from her.
Aaron laughs as I unmouth her tit, leaving her areola glistening, her nipple puckered.
“What do you want to do to her, sir?” I trace my forefinger under her breast then snake a line downward over the dress. “This video is not enough for anything. It could be dangerous to show it to anyone else.”
I cannot tell him of my involvement. That it was a job.
Not unless I am sure it was a bad job. The fraternity requires consent, though I guess Miss Juniper is a special case.
I have standards, even if they are wobbly ones, and that give and take is needed to murder people. She and I have that in common.
“I know. I’m going to pull it apart and look for answers. Now? Now I need you to suggest a punishment for Miss Juniper here. She gave me lip. Gave a bad thank you when I offered my services.”
“Your services? I thought—”
“I reaffirmed our deal. She has been a beautiful toy though. Loves being played with. The sounds she makes are epic.” When she starts to speak, he covers her mouth with his palm. “Shush. I need Tomás to tell me that punishment.”
“Something down here?” When I slowly lift the bottom of the little dress to reveal her pussy, she looks alarmed but squirms her rear end in place. The slim arrow of hair left on her mons is perfect.
“This cute signpost must lead to your cunt, yes?” I wander my finger to the start of her slit, then slip it an inch deeper along the seam, sinking it between her lips but not inside her.
She makes a muffled grunt but scowls at me as I squeeze my finger back and forth through the slick of her arousal then around and around her swollen clit.
“You want ideas, sir? You, the man who loves feeding ladies to piranhas?”
“No need for the sir, anymore.”
The soft but urgent breathing she begins to make. I keep massaging her slit as if it’s a minor thing I barely know I’m doing, but I am watching, and I am listening.
The piranhas are an old joke between us, and her mad glare, despite where my finger delves, tells me he’s said it to her.
“I think we need to rest her from anything nasty,” he adds. I keep circling her clit. “The CNC party is next week, and if she’s already covered in bruises she mightn’t enjoy it.”
“This is true. Just a small spanking? Then while you’re at your computer, we can put her in the cage.”
I swear this elicits a choked growl from her as I gradually sink my finger into her entrance where her internal muscles instantly squeeze onto me. A nice welcome.
“I guess that rules out stitching your pussy together?”
A frown wrinkles her cute forehead. His hand remains over her mouth, but her nostrils flare, and her eyes light up.
She throws up her hands as if to shove me away, but I intercept the lunge and trap her wrists, then watch her buck against our holds on her as Aaron clamps in his legs.
In that split second of reaction, I feel the kick of anticipation.
I’ve struck gold with that suggestion, which makes me wonder how she would take it.
Making her come while she’s stitched together. Dios mio, si.
Her wetness on my fingers smears her wrist. The mindfuck of arousal and fear always grabs my balls.
“We take the stitches out after, so it’s permitted,” I say quietly, while she grumbles at me past his smothering hand. “We should try that on you, but not yet.” Then I lick the wetness off her wrist. “Another day.”
“I heard that, you bastard.” Aaron has the spark of a sadistic thrill gleaming in his eyes. “Put it down as a definite possible. I’d make sure she wanted it first.”
“Sure. She will, if we coax her.” Her eyes widen at my words. She has no idea how persuasive Aaron and I can be. “Let’s put her over the sofa arm and get that spanking done.”