Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
A shiver wracks my frame as the light begins to creep in through the floor length windows. The bastards didn’t even leave me with so much as a blanket after tying me up. The only warmth I’ve had is the hearth across the way, and even then, that went out hours ago.
Two of them came down a little earlier, but neither of them spared me so much as a glance. Talking to one another, they walked over to check my bindings, but didn’t once look at me or try to engage.
I can’t say I’m not happy about that. Once the alcohol wore off and the magnitude of what I did hit me, regret and terror sunk deep into my bones. To be honest, I’m surprised they’ve not tied me up with the hostage and set about laying into me themselves. Another shiver wracks my frame with the thought.
They are terrifying . When the two biggest ones picked me up in the bathroom last night, I truly thought that was it for me. And much to my dismay, the only saving Grace– ha , how ironic–I had was Gracie. She’s the only reason why I think I’m alive right now. Even if she hates me, she’d never allow them to hurt me. She hasn’t got it in her.
A crash in the hallway has me flinching and the mess of lights wrapped around me tightens further into my skin, pissing me off. The damn tinsel itches. A candy cane dangles in front of my nose, swinging every time I shift. My legs are bound with some kind of ribbon–red and green, of course–and there’s even a glittery bow slapped on me like I’m some kind of Christmas present.
This whole tied up thing was bad enough the first time, but after what I did last night, I still can’t rule out the possibility of retribution on top of this humiliation. It was bad enough me trying to take Grace from under their feet, but to let their hostage go…
Terror doesn’t cut the feeling that continues to wash over me in waves. I’m tied up and at the mercy of three, very real, very violent men. They’ve slaughtered people for less before, I’m sure of it.
I’m confident Grace wouldn’t allow any harm to come to me, but she’s not here now. So really, what’s stopping them?
As if in answer to all my unvoiced questions, the lights come on and the two who went to fix the breakers emerge from the hallway.
“Key should be down in a minute and then we can get started.”
“I’ll go grab the stuff.” With a nod, Atlas walks off towards the kitchen as Teddy turns to face me. Looking me dead in the eyes, my heart races and my stomach bottoms as I realize they firmly have me in their sights. They are not here for a friendly chat. No. They’re here for something far worse.
Moving over to the fire, he directs his attention to stoking it and getting a good flame going.
“You know, I’ve never truly enjoyed inflicting pain upon others.” I swallow thickly at his words. “It’s merely been a necessary part of the job. But this time? Well…this time it’s personal.”
The fire flares up, and so does my panic. My throat is dry, and I can’t even swallow, let alone say something that might save me. What could I even say? Sorry?
Yeah, I’m sure that’ll fix this.
My pulse thrums in my head as he takes his phone out and connects to the surround sound, playing upbeat Christmas music that’s at complete odds to my current predicament.
Atlas strolls back in, holding a bag. He sets it down, and I swear my heart tries to jump out of my chest. It’s like they’re setting up for something. Whatever it is, it’s not gonna be good for me.
I can’t help it–I try to squirm away, but the Christmas lights dig into me tighter, and my shoulders scream in protest. “Wait, wait! I didn’t mean for it to happen like that!” My voice cracks, and I sound pathetic, but I don’t care.
Dignity isn’t gonna save me now.
Teddy steps closer, crouching down so we’re eye level. His face is calm, but his eyes are sharp, like he’s peeling me apart layer by layer. “What didn’t you mean, huh?” he asks, his voice low and slow, like he’s giving me a chance to dig my grave deeper. “Be specific.”
I stammer, my brain racing. “The-the hostage! I wasn’t–I mean, I didn’t mean to–I panicked!”
Atlas snorts from where he’s leaning against the wall. “You panicked, huh?” He folds his arms, shaking his head. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“I swear! I-I didn’t mean to-”
“Shut up.” Teddy’s voice cuts through me like a knife. My mouth snaps shut, but my whole body’s trembling. He stands, brushing invisible dust off his pants, and then looks at Atlas. “Key’s taking too long. Go get him.”
Atlas smirks, pushing off the wall. “Sure. Don’t start the fun without me.” He saunters off, leaving me alone with Teddy, who’s now pacing in front of me, like a lion circling a wounded antelope.
My breathing gets faster, and I can’t stop shaking. “P-please. Grace wouldn’t want this. She’d–she’d stop you!”
Teddy stops, looking at me like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever met. “Grace isn’t here,” he says, his tone flat and final. “And it’s not like we’re going to kill you.”
Relief tries to trickle in, but the barely there stream is instantly shut off as two sets of footsteps bound down the stairs and Atlas and Key enter my line of sight.
Okay, so maybe Teddy and Atlas aren’t the scariest of the three, the unhinged glee in Key’s eyes instantly has sweat pouring down my back. There’s just something about a man that can gain so much joy from hurting others that is simply terrifying.
“Alright, time for your potty break,” Key says with a wicked grin, untangling me just enough to haul me to my feet. My knees wobble as blood rushes back to them, and I stumble forward.
“I-I don’t need-” I start, but Atlas gives me a look, cold and sharp, that shuts me up mid-sentence.
“Oh, you need it,” Teddy says, stepping forward to grab the tinsel-wrapped bow around my chest and steer me toward the bathroom. “Trust me, you don’t want to have an accident while we’re working. It makes everything messier.”
“W-working?!” My voice comes out high and panicked, and Key snickers behind me.
Teddy pushes open the bathroom door, then gives me a shove inside. “Five minutes. No funny business, or we’re skipping the courtesy.”
I swallow hard and nod, my palms sweating as I catch sight of Atlas standing just outside the door, arms crossed and glaring off into the distance. They don’t even close the door all the way, leaving it cracked just enough to make it clear I’ve got no shot at slipping away.
I shuffle to the toilet and do my business, the Christmas lights dragging behind me with a faint jingle. I barely even have time to finish when the door swings open fully, and Atlas steps in, grabbing me by the shoulder. “Time’s up.”
Dragging me back into the living room, the twinkling Christmas lights trail behind me like some kind of pathetic parade float.
“Did you wash your hands?” Key asks, fake concern dripping from his voice as he plops onto the couch.
“I-what?” I stammer, my brain too scrambled to process anything.
Key laughs. “Relax, no one cares. Not like you’ll have any use for your hands.”
Atlas shoves me down onto the floor, my legs wobbling uselessly under me as I land hard. The stupid decorations swing with the jostling, jingling like I’m some kind of idiot holiday decoration. The heat of the fire warms one side of me, but the rest of my body is ice-cold, especially now that the terror is clawing its way back up my spine.
Key grins, lounging on the couch like he’s settling in for a show. He picks up a candy cane from the coffee table and bites off the end with a sharp crack, all while staring at me like I’m the entertainment. “Ready, Jason?”
I shake my head furiously. “No, no, no–whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure it’s illegal! Grace wouldn’t-”
“Don’t you dare say her fucking name again.” Teddy crouches down in front of me, his face calm and steady, but his voice sharp as a blade. “Grace has nothing to do with what happens next. This is about you, Jason. Your actions. Your mistakes.”
Atlas walks over to the coffee table, shuffling through the supplies he brought into the room. A few fear-filled minutes later the buzzing sound of a tattoo machine fills the room, and my heart drops into my stomach.
“No,” I whisper. “No, no, you can’t-”
“We can,” Atlas says simply, plugging the machine in and testing it on a scrap of what looks like pigskin. The needle hums, and he tilts his head toward me before handing the contraption off to Key. “And we will.”
Key chuckles. “Oh, Jason, you’re gonna love this. It’s the perfect little addition to your...holiday makeover.”
I twist, desperate, my hands straining against the lights still tangled around me. “Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for any of it to happen! I was stupid. I was selfish. But you can’t do this!”
Teddy leans closer, his face inches from mine. His voice drops to a deadly calm whisper. “You didn’t mean to cheat on Grace? You didn’t mean to try and kidnap her and let our hostage go? Or you didn’t mean to get caught?”
“I-” My throat closes up, and no words come out. Teddy’s eyes burn into mine, waiting, daring me to lie.
“Exactly what I thought,” he says, straightening up. “Atlas, get him ready.”
Atlas steps forward, and I start thrashing again, kicking and squirming, but it’s no use. He pins me down with one hand, his grip iron-tight on my chest, while using the lights and garland to tie my legs together and my hands to my sides. Key steps forward with the machined needle, the whirring sound grows louder, filling my ears.
“You’re gonna love your new additions, Jason,” Key says, his grin almost splitting his face. “Ladies love tattoos after all.”
“What?! No!” I shout, my voice cracking.
Teddy rolls his eyes. “Well, maybe not this sort of ink.”
Atlas just smirks, looming over me with a boot on my chest.
“God, I’m so glad I bring this thing everywhere I go.” Key sighs while lovingly stroking the instrument of my doom in his hand. “Never used it for something like this though!” He winks at me.
Key crouches down, his grin wide and unnerving, the tattoo needle buzzing ominously in his gloved hand. “Alright, Jason, hold still. I mean, not that it matters if you squirm–just makes it more interesting for me.”
“Stop! Please, I beg you!” I thrash harder, but Atlas leans down, pressing more weight on his boot planted squarely on my chest. The garland and lights dig into my skin, and I can’t move.
“Jason,” Teddy drawls from the armchair, spinning a cookie cutter idly between his fingers. “You should save your energy. You may not be a fan of this part, but I promise–this is the easy bit.”
Key laughs, giving the machine a test buzz. “Yeah, let’s get started, big guy.” He shifts his position, kneeling over me with a gleam in his eye. “First up, your belly. Gotta give you a nice, bold message for anyone who sees you shirtless.”
“What?!” I choke out, twisting as much as I can. “No, no, no-”
“Relax, Jason,” Key cuts in, his tone mockingly gentle as he tilts the buzzing needle closer and wrenches my shirt up. “You want to be an honest man from now on, don’t you?”
“I promise I’ll-” The moment the needle touches my skin, the words dissolve into a shout. The sharp, stinging pain slices through me as Key begins his work, his grin never faltering.
“You’re lucky I have such good handwriting,” Key quips, pausing to wipe away the blood and ink. “Otherwise, this would look like a ransom note.”
The others chuckle darkly, but my vision threatens to swim with tears. “Stop! Please, I’ll do anything–just stop!”
Teddy leans back, his legs crossed casually. “Should’ve thought about that before you decided to treat Grace like a piece of shit, Jason. Actions have consequences.”
Atlas nods in agreement, his foot firm on my chest as Key finishes the last stroke of the tattoo. The machine finally goes silent, leaving a dull ache across my stomach. Key sits back, admiring his work.
“Beautiful,” he says, wiping the area clean. “I think cheater looks real classy in bold, Old English style, don’t you?”
The others nod in approval, and I can’t even look down to see the damage. I know it’s there, scarring my skin and branding me with a truth that hurts.
“Now for part two,” Atlas states simply. When I hear the buzz of the machine again, my stomach drops.
“Don’t worry, Jason,” Key says gleefully, moving lower down my body. “We’re just adding some flare.”
“Please, no!” I sob, shaking my head violently. “Not there! Anywhere but there!”
“Oh, definitely there,” Key sings gleefully as he pulls down my pants and boxers in one swift movement. “A couple of decorative touches, you might say. Really makes the whole package unforgettable.”
Key exaggeratedly gags as he grabs my junk in one hand and stretches the skin between his fingers, before pressing the needle down with his other hand. The pain is sharp and immediate as it stabs into the soft flesh of my cock, and I can’t stop the scream that rips from my throat. The humiliation burns worse than the sting of the tattoo. I thrash helplessly, but it only makes the process longer.
“Hold still, drama queen. It doesn’t even hurt that bad.” Key tuts, like he’s reprimanding a small child, before humming and continuing his work.
It’s agonizing, it’s downright violating, and it lasts for what feels like forever. I cry, I scream. But he doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied.
Key finishes his work with a flourish, wiping the area clean. “Done! Now he’s got something to show off at every holiday party. Sit him up, Atlas. Let him see the magic.”
Removing his foot off my chest, Atlas kneels down and grabs me by the hair. Yanking me up into a semi-seated position, he forces my gaze down. There, in a disgusting pattern that’s forever inked into the skin of my dick, is a collection of very lifelike, oozing warts from the head of my extremely deflated dick to the base.
“Step three,” Atlas says, pulling up my pants and flipping me roughly onto my stomach without giving me a second to relax or process what just happened.
My body aches, every muscle screaming in protest as Atlas lifts my shirt from where it fell when he sat me up. Leaving my bare stomach pressed to the floor, the cold surface against the cheater tattoo is a cruel contrast to the searing pain, and almost a bit of relief to the agony; if it didn’t remind me of its existence.
My cries devolve into hoarse, broken sobs, my body trembling uncontrollably under Atlas’ foot once more. The garland around me jingles faintly with every shudder, acting as an obnoxious reminder of how ridiculous I look–like some kind of sick Christmas joke.
“This is the fun part,” Teddy says smoothly, crouching down next to me and parades a cookie cutter attached to a metal poker in front of my face. The festive, metallic gingerbread man glowing faintly from the heat of the fire. The sight alone makes bile rise in my throat.
“No,” I croak, barely able to form the word. “Please, no…no more…”
“Aw, come on, Jason,” Key chimes in, his grin as wide as ever. “We’ve been gentle so far. This is the grand finale.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, tears streaming down my face and pooling beneath me. My voice cracks, the words barely audible through the thick congestion from my sniveling. “Please!”
Atlas shifts, pressing his foot harder into my back. “It’s too late for all that.”
Teddy leans closer, his expression chillingly calm as he spins the cookie cutter brand contraption in his hand. “You see, Jason, this isn’t just about what you did. It’s about ensuring you never forget. Consider this…a permanent Christmas memory.”
Key laughs, his head tilting back with glee. “Oh, it’s definitely gonna be memorable. Every time he sits down, every time he looks in the mirror, everytime he somehow convinces a woman to open her legs…”
The red-hot cookie cutter hovers above my lower back, and I can feel the intense heat radiating from it, even before it touches my skin. My breath comes in tiny panicked gasps, my body unnaturally still as I try to avoid the metal touching my skin, but there’s no escape.
“Three little gingerbread men,” Teddy says, his voice almost cheerful now. “One for each of us. To remember us by.”
The first press of the metal onto my skin sends an explosion of pain through me so intense, I see white. The hiss of burning flesh fills the air, followed by my piercing scream. It’s guttural, raw, and primal, my body twisting uselessly under the weight of my tormentors.
“Hold still, or this one’s gonna come out crooked,” Teddy says, his tone clipped but amused. The brand lifts away, leaving a sizzling burn that radiates agony across my entire lower back and up my spine.
I’m sobbing uncontrollably now, my face pressed into the floor as my nose leaks freely. “Please–no more, no more–please…”
Key crouches beside me, tapping my cheek with his finger as if to stop me from blacking out. “We’re just getting started, buddy. Two more to go. Gotta make the full set.”
Rockin’ around the Christmas tree starts playing in the background as Atlas shifts and the brand comes down a second time, this time on the opposite side. The pain is somehow worse than the first, the fresh burn merging with the previous one to create a continuous wave of searing agony.
I scream again, my voice breaking into hoarse, breathless cries as I try to at least distract myself with the music. But it’s no use. Nothing can take away the torture of being branded like cattle.
My vision blurs from the endless tears, and I barely notice Key as he admires Atlas’ handiwork.
“Looks great,” he says, his tone full of admiration. “I think the left side came out even better though.”
“Shut up, asshole,” Atlas grumbles at his more joyful counterpart.
“Third one’s yours, Key,” Teddy says, taking the cookie cutter brand from Atlas and passing it to him, interrupting their bickering.
“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” Key’s grin grows even wider as he reheats the brand in the fire, right in front of my face. The metal glows bright once more, and he twirls it in his hand, giving me a wink. Key gives Atlas a silent order and I whimper. Grabbing me by the hair once more, Atlas raises my head and turns it so I can see all three of them.
“Stop…” My weak plea comes out on a croaky whisper.
“Relax, Jason,” Key says as he positions the final brand just above the previous two. “Think of this as a bonding moment.”
The third brand presses down, right in the center of my lower back and the pain is unimaginable. Sending shockwaves through my entire body, my scream cuts off into a choking sob as my body finally goes limp, the fight completely drained from me. The smell of burnt flesh fills my nostrils, and my stomach churns violently.
“Perfect,” Key says, lifting the brand away and setting it aside. “It’s like a festive tramp stamp!”
Atlas finally steps back, releasing my head which falls to the floor with a thump. My cheek sticks to the cold wood as darkness teases at my consciousness and my body trembles with aftershocks of pain, every nerve alight with agony.
Teddy crouches down beside me, grabbing my chin roughly and tilting my head up to him. “Listen closely, Jason,” he says, his voice low and even. “You’re gonna leave Grace alone from now on. If we even hear a whisper of you approaching her, this will look like a vacation compared to what we’ll do next.”
I can’t muster a response as my sobs choke me, the tears and snot a neverending reminder of the pain and humiliation I just endured.
Letting my head drop with a thud, Teddy stands and dusts off his hands. Atlas must follow some sort of cue as he hauls me back to my chair in the corner, making quick work of retying and redecorating me.
“And if you speak a word of what happened tonight to Grace, or anyone else, well…just try me.” Atlas’ words are like a whip as he sneers in my face before stepping aside and letting Key shift into view.
“Merry Christmas, Jason,” Key says with a smirk, tossing a handful of shiny tinsel over my restrained, trembling body. “I hope you liked your presents.”
The three of them walk away, their laughter echoing through the house as I sit there, shattered and humiliated. The sound of Michael Bublé's rendition of Holly Jolly Christmas ringing around the room as the fire crackles away in the hearth and the snow continues to fall outside; the room remaining cozy and calm, like the whole thing was just a dream.
Yet, my new tattoos throb with every shallow breath I take, and the brands sting worse with each twitch of my muscles. The smell of burnt skin lingers in the air, acting a cruel reminder of my past mistakes.
“ Have a holly jolly Christmas, it’s the best time of the year. Now I don’t know if there will be snow, but have a cup of cheer… ”
I don’t think I’ve ever been so sorry in my life.