43. Chapter 43
43
Sophie
“You know, we planned something special for you.” It’s the first time Caleb has addressed me in a while, maybe hours.
The ball gag keeps me from doing anything other than moaning an ‘oh goody’.
“What was that?” Jesse teases. Without warning, my chair tilts back and my arms and legs jerk, but I have nothing to grab onto. My ankles and wrists are still bound. “I’m having trouble understanding you.”
Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you cow-fucking, cum-guzzling butt-monkeys. Natalie’s knack for creative insults must be rubbing off on me.
They spin my chair and drag me for several feet before coming to a stop, spinning me again, and setting the front two legs back on the ground. I’ve lost all sense of direction, unsure if I’m by the closed door from earlier or the big, graffitied window–are they going to throw me off of it?
“Take the blindfold off,” Caleb orders. “I want her to watch as we put together her set .”
The fuck?
Jesse takes off the blindfold, but not the gag. My jaw aches and I’ve been drooling so bad that saliva has dripped from my chin down onto my tank top. The sight that greets me makes my stomach churn.
The white door that was on the other side of the table is open now and I’m much closer, sitting just a couple of feet in front of the doorway. A heavy-duty, metal saw horse is visible in the center of the room. Set up on either side are large, halogen work lights. Last, on the far side of the room, angled at the saw horse, is a tripod with a camera attached to it.
They’re going to film their abuse, the sick fucks. This has to be Jesse’s idea. Caleb was never this twisted.
Any words I’d speak to save myself would be lost to the gag, but words won’t work on these two anyway. The only language they speak is violence.
Jesse and Caleb each grab an arm and haul me up. Something inside me snaps and I fight, flailing my bound hands and screaming around the ball in my mouth. Tears squeeze from my eyes as the brothers tighten their grip on my arms.
“Now you react. Fucking cow!” Jesse yells in my ear. “We’re gonna teach you a fucking lesson. Act like a slut, get treated like a slut.”
“Not that we’ll have time to test you on the material before-” He’s silenced, likely by a look from his brother.
Caleb’s words make me stop, my head whipping around to look at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. When I’m a foot from the saw horse, they drop me and I grunt. Jesse takes a knife and holds it against my throat, bringing his face even with mine.
“I’m going to undo these,” he growls. “But if you try to get away, it’s going to be so much worse for you. Understand?” The blade pushes into my skin, pricking it, drawing blood.
Oh, goody –a scar to match the one his brother gave me.
I nod, readying myself to do exactly what I’m not supposed to do.
He cuts through the ropes around my ankles and I remain still, breathing heavily through my nose. Jesse saws through the ropes around my wrists. The moment I feel the last threads break, I bring up my foot and send it crashing into his chest. I don’t watch him tumble away. Scrambling to my feet, I stumble toward the door.
I barely make it three steps before something hits my head and I go down. My chin scrapes the concrete floor while my hands take the bulk of my weight, sending pain shooting through my wrists. My ears ring and the world goes all fuzzy as someone straddles me. I kick my feet, trying to scream around the gag that I would’ve taken off if I’d gotten any further. My thighs scrape on the rough concrete floor and I reach back, trying to claw whichever brother is on top of me.
“You fucking bitch.” Jesse’s voice is further away, grunting in pain.
“Can’t believe you trusted her,” Caleb mutters, letting all of his weight settle onto my ass. “Get over here and help me. ”
He hisses when I reach back with both hands and dig my nails into his legs. If I go down, I’m getting DNA evidence.
“That fucking hurt, man,” Jesse complains.
“Of course it did. Get over here.”
Caleb lifts his weight, but before I can react, two pairs of hands grab me once more. They drag me back to the saw horse and Jesse holds me while I continue to flail. Caleb rips my leggings down and off. I try to kick him in the face, but he dodges my foot. Jesse pulls my arms painfully backward for that move. I try to throw my head back into his mouth or nose or something , but I don’t make contact.
“Nice try, bitch,” he growls in my ear. “I can’t wait to watch you cry. You’ll be begging for fucking mercy.”
They leave my tank top in place and force one of my legs over the saw horse. The corners are sharp, digging into my tender areas. I’m forced face down so that my sternum rests directly on the cold metal. The bar only reaches from my collarbone to somewhere beneath my stomach. One good thing about the extra weight on my body is that it relieves the pressure on the sensitive skin below my hips.
While Caleb ties my ankles and knees in place against the supports, Jesse ties my arms down. I’m bound in the shape of the sawhorse with my limbs stretched out. Jesse’s ropes are tight and I don’t know if it’s the stress or if they’re genuinely cutting off the circulation to my hands, but my fingers feel tingly. My limbs are restless and I flex my fingers to try to keep the blood flowing. My chest is tight, the anxiety of being unable to move is already stealing my ability to breathe. The rage from earlier–that blood-boiling, scream-inducing rage–isn’t enough to quell the panic.
The brothers’ hands disappear and I catch a glimpse of Caleb pulling on a black ski mask before he goes to start the recording on the camera. He walks over and pinches my chin, turning my head toward the lens.
“Say hi, Honey.” He laughs. “Oh wait, you can’t.” He turns his head to the camera. “You see, we’re going to have some fun with you, our unwilling whore.” He glances back at me and then his attention is on the camera once more when he drops my chin. “And then we have the ultimate surprise.”
“But we’ll save that for later,” Jesse chimes in. “Don’t want to spoil it for Honey, here.”
WHACK!
I cry out when something makes contact with my ass. I’m able to twist my head just enough to see that Jesse is holding a long piece of wood, an off-cut as if from a construction site. I have enough brain power to wonder if that’s where all of this came from. The building we’re in can’t have housed it, so it’s clear this equipment is missing from somewhere.
WHACK!
Another smack brings me out of my thoughts and I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain. My hands are trembling, my breathing coming in ragged and short.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just listened to me. If you’d stayed with me,” Caleb says as Jesse hits me again, in the same spot as the first two times. “If you weren’t such a disgusting slut .”
I used to like pain. Not to this extent, but I used to like rough sex and choking and all of that stuff, but now…
WHACK!
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, whether from the stinging and throbbing of my buttcheeks or the situation, I’m not sure. Those tears begin to well, threatening to spill over and if they do, I don’t know how much longer I’ll last. Caleb intends to break me. I want it to be difficult, but my body might have other ideas.
WHACK!
I cry out, muffled by the gag, and my eyes start leaking.
“Are those tears?” Caleb’s tone is mocking as he walks away.
When he returns, my head is hanging to take the weight off of my neck, but I can see the black riding crop in his hand. It’s obviously a tool specifically made for kink. I steel myself against the oncoming pain, squeezing my eyes and tensing my body.
The board lands another blow just as the crop finds my back.
“I think she should count,” Jesse grunts from behind me.
“Did you hear that, slut?” Caleb drags the crop down my back before swatting me again. “Count while we punish you.”
WHACK!
I remain silent. I can’t, you fucking idiot. The gag remains in my mouth. Do they want me to grunt?
“I said count .” Caleb ends the sentence with another blow, followed closely by the board in Jesse’s hand.
He steps around in front of me and grips my chin tight, angling my neck so that I’m forced to look at him.
“Count, you stupid cunt,” he orders. “I don’t care if you have to drool through every goddamn word. Count or I’ll give you a real excuse.”
I can’t help. I really can’t help it. My eyes roll when he tries to sound intimidating by grabbing his crotch. The back of his hand strikes my face.
“Maybe when we’re done with you, we’ll send the video to your boyfriends.” He drops my chin and steps over to my side. “Make them watch,” he smacks me, “while we bruise your ass.” Jesse and Caleb land blows at the same time. “Listen to you scream and cry whine like a bitch while I fuck that asshole dry.”
WHACK!
“You’re a fucking whore,” Caleb continues. “Say it!”
WHACK!
“Say it,” he repeats through gritted teeth.
Tears continue to fall from my eyes, rolling up my face before falling into my hair. Each blow lands in a different spot now and I know my whole body will be black and blue and purple beneath angry red welts tomorrow. I remain silent.
Clearly giving up the idea of making me gargle the gag, Caleb attacks my arms and back while the board in Jesse’s hands collides with my calves, my thighs, my ass.
“You’re mine,” Caleb snarls. “Mine to mark, mine to play with, my whore, fucking mine .”
He drops the riding crop and crouches in front of me. His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head up so that he can hold a knife directly before my face.
“Don’t worry,” he chuckles darkly. “I’ll leave your face pretty.”
He swipes the knife along my upper arm and I cry out again around the gag, squeezing my eyes shut. Another slice on my opposite forearm sends pain radiating through my body while Jesse’s board continues to make contact.
“I don’t think she likes this, Jesse.”
No shit, Sherlock . I open my eyes when I realize the blade hasn’t cut me a third time.
“Maybe she’ll like phase two,” Jesse retorts.
The board clatters to the floor, imitating the drop of my stomach at his words. I’m pretty sure I know what phase two is.
Caleb’s hand tightens in my hair and he shakes me to ensure he has my attention. He brushes the end of the knife along my cheek, not enough pressure to break the skin.
“I’m going to take this gag off.” He taps the ball between my teeth with the blade. “You can scream all you want… while your mouth is free.” He smirks and my chest goes cold .
“Won’t be free for long.”
Fingers–I think it’s fingers–swipe through my very dry pussy as Caleb undoes the buckle behind my head and lets the gag fall to the ground. I work my jaw, moving it side to side, then in a circle, trying to ignore what’s being done behind me.
Fuck, my jaw hurts. Now I know what some of Natalie’s subs feel like during her longer sessions. I want nothing more than to let my mouth just hang open and relax, but I know that’s not what’s about to happen. I think I knew from the moment I woke up on that floor what their plan was. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.
Caleb mutters something about teaching me a lesson while he unzips his pants, but then his brother speaks up.
“I thought you wanted her snatch first.”
I hate that word. It’s a ridiculous thought, but it’s the one that breaks through the pain radiating through my entire body.
“Fuckin’ right, I do.” Caleb looks like a toddler walking away, his pants sliding down further with each step. He trades places with his brother.
I want to squeeze my eyes shut, but I will not give in to the fear. I will not react. This time, I’ll remain silent as the fucking grave.
“And I,” Jesse says, standing in front of me, “get to fuck this pretty little mouth.” He squeezes my chin and forces my head back and up as far as it will go so that I can see his eyes through the holes in the ski mask. The same beady, brown eyes as his brother’s. “And then we’re gonna cut your slut throat and dump your body where no one is ever gonna fucking find you.”
My jaw clenches. That is Jesse’s idea. This sick, twisted fuck doesn’t like that I made his brother look weak and him too, by extension.
Jesse pulls down his boxers to reveal a rather pathetically small dick. Even if I didn’t make porn and stare at well-endowed men all the time, this guy would be considered small. Talk about an inferiority complex. These two should be studied.
If Natalie were here, she’d launch into a slew of insults like she does with her subs. I’ve heard her in action. It’s a thing of beauty. Instead, all I can make out through pinched cheeks are two words.
“How cute.” My voice is low, but Jesse catches my insult nonetheless.
The back of his hand makes contact with my cheek as he drops my chin and my world spins, my ears ringing once more. He grabs my jaw again and I’m forced to look at his face.
“What was that, bitch? ”
Oh my, Jesse, what an inadequate dick you have there.
I remain silent and Jesse sneers. I don’t know what Caleb has been waiting for. There’s no barrier between his cock and my entrance. When Jesse takes a step forward, bringing himself that much closer to my face, I clamp my mouth closed. If he ever gets between my lips, I’ll bite his dick off, I swear.
My whole body is trembling, my chest still tight. The only thing in my line of sight seems to be the smaller-than-average erection in front of me.
A loud bang rings through the space, echoing in the tiny room. My eyes shut on instinct and I hear a thud behind me. Another bang and the ringing in my ears, which hasn’t stopped since the last slap across my cheek, grows louder. My jaw is free. I hear a similar thud in front of me. When I open my eyes, Jesse is crumpled to the ground, dick on display, a gaping hole in his chest. I think I can see one of his ribs poking through. His eyes stare absently at the ceiling as blood pools beneath him.
A sob rips from me as tears stream freely down my face. Trying to breathe feels overwhelming, the air choking me as I attempt to gulp it down. The pressure of the metal becomes too much, my immobile limbs bringing me closer to the brink of a meltdown. The panic attack finally strikes and I breathe faster, hyperventilating.
A warm touch lands on my ankles and I scream, trying to kick, but instead I barely move. My torso wiggles on the sawhorse, the edges digging into my skin. Someone’s trying to shush me, to shut me up, but I won’t be quieted. I continue to scream, even when my first leg is freed, kicking out at whoever it is. I won’t go down without a fight.
I won’t.
I won’t.
I won’t.
“Sophie.” It’s a voice I don’t recognize so I continue to try to battle.
My second leg is freed and I lash out again, rubbing my sensitive skin raw on the metal. For some reason, this person doesn’t seem to care. I don’t make contact so maybe they’re just not worried I’ll hurt them. My aim obviously needs work.
“Get away!” I cry when they crouch next to my arm, cutting through the rope around my wrist.
“Sophie, it’s ok.” The heavily tattooed man doesn’t exactly look friendly, but his voice is soft. He focuses on what he’s doing, careful not to slice my skin as he frees my right arm before moving to my left side.
My screaming has stopped, my throat raw. I’m not sure when, but I stopped fighting .
“I’m going to help you off of there,” he says gently, as he cuts the last of my bonds. “I want you to keep your eyes on me. I’m getting you out of here. Can I touch you?”
My entire body is trembling, but what choice do I have? I nod. He stands as he reaches for the soft spots beneath my arms. I cry out when he hauls me up, the relief of the pressure on my sternum and stomach verging on pain. My leg drags clumsily over the sawhorse and I collapse into his arms.
When I try to look around, his large hand shields my eyes.
“Just look at me,” he reminds me.
My legs are weak, but I find just enough strength to walk from the room with his help. The stranger lowers me into a chair, the freezing metal shocking my system when it hits my bruised and battered body.
“I’m going to put your pants on.”
I hadn’t realized he was holding my leggings. I’m surprised Caleb and his brother didn’t cut them off.
Caleb.
Jesse.
I know Jesse’s fate, but when I turn to look and find out Caleb’s, the stranger places his hand on the side of my face again to keep me from turning. He shakes his head and then readies the first side of my leggings, scrunching it up and holding it out so I can put my foot inside. I’m reminded of when Miles helped me dress back in Miami. It feels like a lifetime ago.
When my second leg is in, he holds out a hand and helps me stand while he pulls the leggings up to my waist. He’s careful with me, his hands soft, his movements slow.
“We’re going to leave. Brody and Miles are waiting downstairs.”
Their names bring fresh tears.
They came for me.