Chapter 9 #2
The pain burned. I thought he might actually rip the roots right out of my head. I’d gone too far again…but I couldn’t just sit there and watch him abuse my friend.
He shoved me in front of the sink and finally let go.
“Lean forward. Hold on to the sides tightly.”
Panic flared in my chest.
What the fuck is he going to do to me now?
I did as I was told, heart hammering, my fingers clamping onto the porcelain for dear life. From the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for a bar of soap from the holder. He stood beside me, towering over my shorter frame.
“Open your fucking mouth,” he growled.
My stomach twisted.
Oh God. No. Not fucking soap!
Still, I opened my mouth, knowing better than to push him any further. He smirked with sick delight and shoved the bar over my lips and against my tongue. The bitterness hit instantly. I gagged at the harsh, chemical taste.
“Bite down, bitch. And don’t let it drop. You hear me?”
I clamped my lips around it, the vile flavor coating my tongue like poison. My stomach lurched, fighting the urge to dry heave. Then I saw him grab the hairbrush from the other end of the sink. His grip tightened around the handle as if it were a weapon.
“I’m going to whack your ass good and hard. I’m in charge here, not you, green eyes. And if that bar slips from your mouth, I’ll grab the cane and beat you worse than I did my own brothers. Understood?”
I nodded, a single tear escaping the corner of my eye.
This man wasn’t just cruel. He was the fucking devil.
I braced myself.
He inhaled slowly, deep and controlled, then brought the brush down with brutal force across my backside.
The sting exploded through my skin. I jerked forward with a muffled cry, the soap still clenched between my teeth.
His voice was harsh, angry and threatening.
“You’ll learn to keep that rotten pie hole shut, even if I have to skin you alive! I want to hear you suck on that soap.”
Tears trickled from my eyes, pooling against the porcelain. I sucked on the bitter bar, fighting the urge to vomit.
It was the nastiest shit I’d ever tasted….chemical, chalky and just gross! The brush landed hard and viciously across my ass, each strike forcing me forward with a jolt.
But I didn’t let the soap fall. I refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
Low moans pushed past the bar clenched between my teeth. “Ugh... ugh... ugh…” was all I allowed.
I zoned out, drifting somewhere else.
I thought about Atlas. Of how he spanked me, but not like this. With him, it was different; delicious and dirty. I remembered the butterfly vibrator strapped tightly between my thighs, the way he’d watch me squirm and sob in pleasure. He made me into his pain slut—his. And I fucking loved it.
God, the orgasms. The way he held me after. His rough hands, his kisses, the way he murmured my name.
I missed him so much it hurt.
So I relaxed.
My body floated the way he taught me to during his training, my mind slipping from this nightmare, finding comfort in my thoughts of the one man who made pain feel like pleasure. I leaned into each strike, lost in my dreams of Atlas. Focusing on his scent, his voice, and his handsome face.
Clenching my thighs together, I felt my sex throb. A low moan escaped my lips, my backside now numb from the repeated whacks. Hector's surprised voice pulled me out of my fantasy.
"What the fuck?" He threw the brush onto the floor.
"Are you enjoying this?"
I shook my head, still sucking on the nasty soap, as I was brought back to reality. The vile cartel grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling me away from the sink. I almost lost the bar when a loud gasp escaped my lips.
Thank God I bit down before it slipped from my mouth. He pushed me to my knees. The floor stung beneath my skin. My ass throbbed with heat.
I held my tears back.
He let go of my hair and crouched beside me, pulling the vile bar from my mouth. He lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to look into his dead eyes.
"Who trained you to take a beating?" He demanded. He raised a brow, with an evil smirk on his face.
"I want the fucking truth. Don't piss me off more than you already have because I'll have no problem bending you over and brutally fucking you in both holes. Spill it!"
I swallowed hard, trying to hide my fear. Anal sex with this man would not be pleasurable. If I told him about Atlas and who he was, he might kill Beck and me to keep him off his trail. I decided to tell him a portion of the truth without giving up too much information.
“I was with someone for a while,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from the soap's aftertaste.
“He wasn’t gentle. He liked…control.”
Hector's eyes glittered with cruel interest. “A man trained you, huh? Some bastard who beat you for fun?”
Is this guy nuts? He loves beating women for fun.
I held his stare, though my heart pounded like a jackhammer. “Not for fun,” I said. “To break me.”
That seemed to amuse him.
He chuckled darkly, fingers brushing a strand of hair from my cheek with mock tenderness. “Looks like he didn’t finish the job.”
I flinched but didn’t speak.
His gaze sharpened, calculating. “Was he cartel? Military?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then who the fuck was he?”
I hesitated, then whispered, “Just a man who liked to hurt girls. He’s dead now.”
Let him believe that. Let him think Atlas was dead and buried, that there was no one coming. If he knows he's an assassin, there's no telling what he might do to us.
Hector studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stood and kicked the soap across the floor.
“Get up,” he snapped.
I struggled to my feet, legs trembling, backside blazing.
He threw me a sideways glance.
"I will be in charge of training you and your whiny sidekick since my brothers are out of commission for a while. Your little crybaby friend will tend to the welts on your ass, then we’ll eat dinner."
He yelled to Beck, ordering her to the bathroom. She obeyed immediately, standing by the sink awaiting instructions.
The creep grinned at me, pulling at the crotch of his pants, then glanced at Becca.
"You'll both be sucking my dick pretty soon."
The thought of him violating my mouth made me cringe. He's a disgusting piece of shit.
His voice took on a more sinister tone as he stared at me.
"By the way, I won’t go easy on you once we start. I’m interested in seeing how far your dead lover pushed you, but don't worry; I won’t kill you in the process."
Becca squirmed at the mention of my dead lover, but she said nothing.
I hope to God he doesn't try to get the information out of her.
My nerves were shot. This guy was a hundred times worse than Atlas.
His evil laugh vibrated in my ears, then he ordered Becca to take care of my bruised bottom.
He walked out of the bathroom, leaving us alone. I looked at my reflection…tear-stained and red-eyed.
But deep inside, a flicker of fire remained.
I wasn’t broken.
Not yet.
Becca tended to my cuts and welts without saying much because there was a camera in the bathroom, of course. When she was finished applying the medicine, we walked into the kitchen. We were both still naked, our embarrassment long gone. Even my friend didn't flinch.
I checked out her cheek where the asshole struck her, but there wasn't any bruising, just a slight red mark.
Hector was already sitting at the table waiting for us. He smiled, as if nothing had just happened.
"As you can see, I put pads on my chairs. I don't want any pussy snot on my furniture."
I felt the heat on my cheeks. I looked over at Beck and saw she was blushing as well. How humiliating. If he doesn't want discharge on his ugly chairs, then maybe he should put clothes on us.
Asshole!!
He looked at Becca and pointed to the seat next to him.
"You sit there."
Becca sat nervously, tightening her fists at her sides. I think she was afraid he was going to smack her again.
He gestured to me.
"You sit over there," he said, pointing to the chair on the opposite side of him.
I did as I was told. My ass was sore, so thank god for the cushion, and right now my stomach was rumbling. All I wanted to do was dig into the delicious food in front of me. My mouth watered.
It smelled amazing. There was American cuisine set on the table. Roasted chicken, potatoes, green beans, hot dinner rolls, baked ham and chocolate cake. My fucking stomach started growling as the scent drifted by my nose. We had eaten barely anything for two days.
Just the soggy ass sandwiches from the van.
Hector rose from his seat. He grabbed Becca's plate first and filled it up with a little of everything, and set it in front of her.
The dickhead then walked over to where I sat, grabbed my plate and went over to the stove.
He lifted the lid off the small saucepan sitting on the burner, grabbed a big spoon and put a huge glob of sticky crap on my dish.
The fucking loser walked back over to the table with a shit-eating grin on his smug face and placed it in front of me.
"This was made special for you, green eyes. It's oatmeal. When you stop running your smart mouth and behave yourself, you may eat the good stuff."
He smirked, caressing my arm.
"You will eat it as is, and if you can change that fucking attitude of yours tomorrow, I might let you have some bacon and eggs with me and your little friend. Now eat up. You both have twenty minutes to finish, then you will shower and be put to bed for the night."
My lips pressed together tightly, hating every inch of this asshole. I felt the tears prick my eyes, but I didn't allow them to fall. I would not let this ass-wipe win. Scooping a huge spoonful of the nasty cement-like slop, I shoved it in my mouth and swallowed it.