Stalker
Watching our woman methodically torture Webb had been eye-opening.
I had even more respect for who she was and what she’d done.
And to see Breezy take part had been a surprise.
But I agreed she needed the catharsis, too.
Sure, I would’ve loved having a bigger hand in making the fucker pay, but my need wasn’t as important as theirs.
Payne stood there, the fishing line attached to large needles in his hands.
He was enjoying the hell out of this. I’d have to watch him, or he’d be dragging our woman into future sessions.
Or at least, picking her brain for ideas.
We were lucky he had an old lady he adored.
Otherwise, we might have to fight to keep Daya.
Both women returned from their private conversation. I’d seen a head shake, then a nod as they talked. I wondered what it was about.
“Alright, we’re ready. Breezy and I will handle this part. Thank you for everything you did on the other parts, guys. And thank you, Payne,” Daya said as she held out her hands.
Breezy mimicked her. He placed a needle with an attached line in each of their palms. They walked back to where Webb hung.
He was moaning pitifully. From one blink to the next, Daya and Breezy jerked off his underwear, letting them drop to the floor.
What the hell were they about to do? I got my answer quickly.
Both women crouched down. Daya gripped his flaccid cock while Breezy grabbed his ball sac.
Hisses and groans broke out of all our mouths as the first push was made.
The needles were forced through his cock and sac.
Webb’s blood-curdling scream broke free and kept coming the whole time they sewed his cock to his lower stomach and his sac to his inner thighs.
I admit, when they stopped sewing, I was sweating, and my cock and balls ached in a bad way.
“Christ, that was something,” Iceman muttered.
A sharper scream came out of Webb. Daya and Breezy had gripped his sewn appendages and jerked as hard as they could, tearing the sutures free by ripping them through the skin of his shaft and sac. Blood welled up.
“Fuck, talk about a new meaning to tackle kit,” Tank muttered.
As Webb kept caterwauling, the women came over to us.
“He’s not going to last too long with all that bleeding. I have one final thing. I need him taken outside and staked out on the ground, face down. And I need him far from the building.”
“It’s time. I’ll show you where to put him,” Payne said in delight as he rubbed his hands.
I was back to wondering what the hell she had planned and why she involved Payne.
However, I didn’t ask. I helped Predator cut Webb down.
We dragged him out of the building. I was about to stop ten feet outside the door, but Payne kept walking.
He took us to a spot a hundred feet from the building.
When we dropped our load, Payne produced from a small duffel bag he'd brought four stakes, two mallets, and fresh zip ties.
Working fast, we spread Webb out and restrained him again. He was whimpering.
“I want everyone to get back. You can’t be less than a hundred feet near him. And cover your ears,” Daya said as she held out her hand.
Our enforcer slipped something into her hand, then he gestured for us all to follow him. He took us to stand along the outer wall of The Cellar, where the entrance was. That was when I saw how diabolical our woman was.
“Marshall, I want you to know that we’ll forget about you in no time. And we’ll go on to love and live happily. You didn’t break us. But we broke you. Enjoy your eternity in hell. I hope you suffer this time every day,” she said loud enough for us to hear her.
Then she crouched next to his ass. As she worked, I heard her murmuring. There was a minute or so of movement, then she took off, rushing back to us. As she did, I saw her unraveling more of the fishing line. When she reached us, she tugged hard.
Webb was shouting the word “no” over and over as soon as she began working on him. After she reached us and tugged, his voice hit a new octave. We stood there, waiting to see what would happen. After a couple of minutes, Webb’s voice began to fade away.
“Hailstorm, what’re we waiting for?” I asked.
“Just another minute. You’ll see,” she said confidently.
She was right. We did. Right before his voice went quiet, Daya warned us, “Cover your ears.”
We barely had time to do it before a tremendous explosion went off.
It shook the ground and even with our ears covered, made them ring.
Debris shot up in the air and then rained down.
As it did, I blinked to make sure I saw clearly.
Where Webb had been lying, there was now a depression in the ground.
The debris that rained down was his body, blown to pieces.
“What did you do?” Jess asked softly when our ears stopped ringing.
“I taped a grenade between his ass cheeks and told him to squeeze, or it would go off. To make sure he wouldn’t let it go before I got clear, I taped his cheeks together tightly and attached the line so I could tear the tape loose.”
“God, I fucking love it! I gotta steal that one, Daya,” Payne crowed.
The rest of us stood there, letting what happened sink in. Thank God we were far enough out of town and from neighbors, other than Haven and Mooring, to not hear it. At least those two knew to call us before they ever called the cops.
As if on cue, Payne announced, “No worries, I warned the rest of the club with a text a bit ago not to panic when they heard a boom. And to make sure Haven and Mooring knew it. We’re good.
Though it makes cleanup a bit messier, it’s so fucking worth it.
You’re the bomb,” he told our old lady as he fist-bumped and then laughed maniacally.
I turned to Predator. He appeared as stunned as I felt. “Remind me never to piss our hailstorm off,” I told my best friend.
“And you remind me,” he said. Then we both began laughing as we swept Daya into our arms.