Ridgely leered at him, licking his chapped lips. Maddi shuddered again as the man returned his hand to Maddi's cock. Maddi realized there was no way he was going to be able to fake an erection, thus continuing the charade. He exhaled, closed his eyes and thought of Edgar; soon, his cock was swelling, the result of the combination of memories of Edgar and the disgusting man's ministrations.
Ridgely seemed convinced of Maddi's interest; however, Maddi began struggling to keep up the pretense as thinking of Edgar brought back memories of their recent parting. He fought not to cry as he remembered the look on Edgar's face when he turned to walk out the door. Fortunately for Maddi, Ridgely was too distracted with his own pleasure.
Maddi forced the image of Edgar's face from his mind, spent another moment focusing instead on sex with him and opened his eyes. Maddi whimpered, looking at Ridgely, whose eyes were glazed over as he continued rubbing himself. "Yeah, man, that feels so good," he choked the words out. "If you let me up, I'll make you feel just as good. Not all the way up; I don't want that crazy woman to hurt you. Just my hands, maybe. I'll make you feel so good, I promise."
This got Ridgely's attention; the man stopped rubbing his own crotch and released Maddi's hard cock. He was staring at Maddi, trying to decide whether to believe him. Maddi pressed his advantage, licking his lips provocatively and squirming against his bonds. "I'm so hot for you now," he paused, allowing an inner grimace, "daddy, you can do anything you want, but please let me up so I can make you feel good."
This pushed Ridgely over the edge and he leaned over Maddi, working to untie his left hand. As he did so, Maddi got a whiff of the man's particularly strong body odor and fought not to gag. His efforts were rewarded when he felt the cuff fall away from his left hand and Ridgely began working on the right one.
Maddi focused all of his attention on Ridgely's throat, just below the man's Adam's apple; a well-aimed blow would cause considerable pain and a feeling of choking, more than enough to distract the disgusting man while Maddi escaped. He'd have to go without clothing, unless there was something convenient at hand. The bed sheet would do in a pinch, but he didn't mind being naked in public if it meant getting away from Ridgely and Jarvis.
Finally, Ridgely managed to get the cuff off of Maddi's right wrist. Maddi took a moment to rub both wrists and leverage himself into a seated position. The expectant look on Ridgely's face reminded Maddi of a dog waiting for a treat after performing a trick; if his plan worked, this dog would soon be writhing on the floor, gasping for air. Maddi faked a stretch, moving both arms above his head before bringing them down, hands level with his shoulders. He gave Ridgely a look filled with lascivious promise and, flattening his right hand, struck out at his captor's throat, fingertips connecting with the spot just below Ridgely's Adam's apple.
As expected, the man gasped, grabbed his throat and fell of the bed. Maddi wasted no time and began unfastening the cuffs around his ankles. Ridgely was wheezing on the floor, clutching his throat with both hands, no longer a threat for the moment. As the last cuff came free, Maddi quickly glanced around the room and saw his clothes in a heap on the floor near the door. He grabbed them and ran for the front door, dressing as he went. He paused long enough to put his pants on, palmed the door open and ran right into Jarvis.
His first thought was to run right over the woman; she was about an inch shorter, he should be able to take her. That thought disappeared in a flash, replaced by shock as he found himself on floor; she had run over him. He moved to get up only to find her standing there, pointing a mini at him, the look on her face more frightening than the small gun.
She looked down at the shrinking bulge in his pants and, in a voice colder than ice, said, "Ridgely. I should've known that walking erection wouldn't be able to control himself. If I was nicer, I'd offer you some mouthwash, Mr. Bristow. I can't imagine the taste he must've left behind."
"Not necessary, thanks," Maddi said. "We never got that far."
"Hmm. You just earned some respect. So, I'm not going to find that disgusting pig of a man in post-coital sleep, then?" She looked at him, waiting for an answer.
"No, you're not. You will find him on the floor, hoping that I didn't damage his trachea when I hit him," Maddi answered. He was no martial artist, but he was wondering if he could sweep her feet before she had a chance to shoot him. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. As dispassionately as one would discard a used tissue, she swept the mini down his body and shot him in the left knee. He howled in pain, grabbed his knee and tried to push away from her. He ended up on the floor at her feet.
"Stop it or I'll blow out the other one," Jarvis said. Her voice held the same tone as though she was offering him a drink. "It's a mini-bullet, but, as I'm sure you're now aware, it still hurts like hell. You're lucky I chose your knee and not your crotch; don't make me change my mind. Now get up! We're going back to the bedroom."
"Get up?" Maddi hollered. "How, you crazy bitch? You shot me!"
"Your manners need work, Mr. Bristow," Jarvis replied and shot him in the right knee. "I suggest you fix them quickly, before I run out of non-lethal places to shoot. Obviously, you're not getting up now; but you can scoot your ass across the floor. Get to it or shall I shoot you in the foot?"
The pain was overwhelming and Maddi was losing the advantage of the adrenaline he'd built up after his plan worked on Ridgely. He was feeling nauseated by the pain and near tears, but he started pulling himself backward as instructed. "Good boy," Jarvis said, her smile more frightening than her gun. "Keep at it," she followed him, never losing her aim on his left foot.
Halfway to the bedroom, he lost the fight against the tears. He stopped moving and sat, crying fat, hot tears of pain and hopelessness. Just yesterday, he'd found who he'd been sure was the man of his dreams, his future mate, and now he'd probably never see Edgar again. He had no idea what this insane creature wanted from Edgar; if money, that wouldn't be a problem, not after what Edgar told him. That didn't mean she'd ever let Maddi live, though; her disregard for life so thoroughly confounded Maddi that he didn't think there were any lines she wouldn't cross.
He sat there, bleeding and crying, until Jarvis kicked one of his feet. The blow sent a searing jolt of pain through his leg, followed closely by a wave of nausea so strong, he leaned to one side and vomited all over the carpet.
Jarvis waited until he was done, then said, "Well, that ought to improve the smell in here. Anything to compete with Ridgely's stench. Now quit blubbing and get your ass moving or I will make you wish you were already dead!"
He briefly contemplated telling her to go fuck herself, sure now that he'd never get out of it alive anyway. The sudden pain in his right ear as a mini-bullet grazed him, knocked that thought out of his mind. Obviously, Jarvis was no amateur and could cause him even worse suffering before letting him die. He began dragging himself toward the bedroom again.
His efforts were interrupted by a gagging croak. Ridgely was at the bedroom door, trying to speak. "B-bastard!" he managed to get out, before lapsing into a coughing fit. When he finally got control of himself, he moved as though to kick Maddi. The younger man turned to face front again and covered his head, preparing for the blow.
It never came, though. Instead, Maddi heard the hissing discharge of the mini and a thud as Ridgely hit the floor. He twisted around to see the man clutching his chest just below his right collar bone. Jarvis carefully stepped around Maddi and stood over the fallen Ridgely. "You are a fucking waste of oxygen, Ridgely," she said. "I've known people who were slaves to their pleasures. Hell, I make my living off of them; but you! You're the worst. You have so little self-control, you can't even last thirty minutes without letting your hormones take over. Now get your ass up and get in there!" she gestured at the bedroom with the mini.
Ridgely hauled himself up, grunting and panting, and obeyed. Jarvis squatted just behind and to Maddi's left. "And you. Crafty little fucker, you are," she said. "You were smart to take advantage of him; I have to giv
e you credit for that. However," she grabbed a handful of Maddi's hair and yanked his head back. He felt her soft breath against his ear as she said, "If you try any of that shit with me, I'll cut your tongue out and eat it for lunch." She released his hair, stood, and said, "Now get moving! We have some work to do in the bedroom."
Jarvis waited for Maddi to drag himself up onto the bed before coming into the room herself. He was shaking with pain and exertion and his knees were bleeding badly. Once he was settled, Jarvis turned her attention to Ridgely.
"I told you what would happen if you fucked with me, asshole," she said. She turned to Maddi and added, "Why is it no one ever listens? Is it really so fucking hard to do what you're told? I want you to pay attention, pretty boy; I'm going to show asswipe over there," she gestured over her shoulder with her thumb, "what happens when I don't get my way." She looked at the sheets then, seeing all the blood as though for the first time. "Let's fix those knees."
She left the room and returned a moment later with a small bag. "I picked a few things up to help convince your rich boyfriend to pay for you. Then asshole decided to fuck up; so I guess I'll use them on him. Lucky for you, they can also help with your knees." She dumped the bag's contents on the bed. Maddi blanched upon seeing razor blades, isopropyl alcohol, gauze pads, and Prozine injectable anesthetic; she'd gone to a bodmod shop. There was no telling what she might have in mind for him or for the softly whimpering Ridgely.
"Those jeans have to come off, though," she said. "Your choice: you do it or he does," she pointed the mini at Ridgely.
"I-I'll do it," Maddi said through the pain. "Wh-what are you going to do with this stuff?" he nodded at the supplies.
"I was going to send your boyfriend a piece of you, an ear or maybe your cock, to show him I'm serious. Don't worry," she said at the horrified expression on Maddi's face, "like I said, asshole fucked up, so I'll patch you up and send Edgar his pitiful prick. Different dick, same message, eh? Now strip."
Maddi unbuttoned his pants and began working them off slowly, trying not to cause himself more pain than he already felt. He was too preoccupied to notice Ridgely moving up behind Jarvis. He got the pants past his shattered knees and was about to try getting them completely off when he heard the hiss of the mini again. Ridgely cried out in pain and fell to the floor, clutching his own shattered knee.
Jarvis looked at Maddi as though she'd only swatted a fly, not shot a man. "Not very bright, is he? Trying to sneak up on me with that body odor? Please!" Maddi looked back at her, unsure of how to respond. "Let me help with those," she said. "You'll never get them off without bending what's left of your knees."
"No, no, I'll get it, that's okay!" Maddi stammered, but Jarvis was already moving. She grabbed the cuffs of his pants and yanked them off with one brutal tug. He let loose a short scream and began to slip into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembered before the blackness claimed him was the sharp sting of coagulant spray hitting his wounds.
CHAPTER 22
Edgar jerked awake, still at his desk, as the HC announced a package delivery. He looked out the window, surprised to see it was already morning. "Direct it to be left at the desk," he ordered the HC. As an afterthought he added, "Full security scan." The HC chimed its acknowledgement as Edgar went for some coffee.
There were no messages waiting when he returned to his desk. He checked the time: Seven-forty. He rubbed his hands over his face, wishing for the hundredth time that last night was just a bad dream. After a swallow of coffee, he ordered the HC to call Evans.
"Evans here, Mr. Aeternum," came the crisp British voice. "How may I assist you?"
"Just checking for news, Evans," Edgar said, knowing full well that Evans would've called had there been any. Doing something was better than waiting, though.
"I'm afraid there's nothing new, sir," Evans replied. "Though your article on the behaviors of psychopaths was most enlightening, I must say. While my agents have located the sites of Miss Campbell's previous tortures, it's not good news. They all occurred at the victims' homes; my agents are watching Mr. Bristow's residence and no one other than his roommates is present."
"Damn," muttered Edgar. "I don't suppose she might have returned to one of her previous victims' places?"
"No sir," answered Evans. "I've already looked. The homes have new inhabitants and nothing untoward is happening. I did have an idea based on your suggestion and your article, sir. It may take a while because she was very good at concealing her efforts while under the bank's employ; however, there may be value in finding her extortion victims' identities."
Edgar perked up at that, "Brilliant idea, Evans! Maybe she's using one of them as a base?"
"Precisely my thought, sir," Evans replied. "As I said, I'm already looking into it. At first, the bank was less than cooperative. However, when I suggested that Miss Jarvis-Campbell's doings might accidentally be leaked to the public, they came around; rather quickly, if I do say so." There was no hiding the satisfaction in Evans' voice.
"Good man," Edgar said. "Keep me posted. I need to get some food. Plus, I have a package waiting for me downstairs."
"A package, sir?" Evans' was all business again. "Were you expecting a delivery?"
Edgar's blood ran cold at the tone in his barrister's voice. "No, why?" he asked.
"Have it brought up at once," Evans said firmly. "I'll hold."
"Not until you tell me what you're thinking, Evans!" there was an edge of fear in Edgar's voice.
"It may be a coincidence, sir," the barrister replied cautiously. "However, according to her record, Miss Campbell has a habit of sending ransom notices accompanied by items of a…" he paused, "somewhat extreme personal nature."
"Are you telling me that bitch hacked pieces off of her victims to send with the ransom notes?" Edgar practically yelled.
"I'm afraid so, sir," Evans said, "though it could merely be coincidental."
"Evans, for a barrister, you're a bad liar. Hold on!" Edgar put the call on hold and instructed the front desk to deliver the package. They assured him it would be there in minutes. He picked up Evans' call again as he waited. "I'm not sure I want to know," he said, "but exactly what parts does she send?"
Evans sighed, a sure sign he was feeling sympathy for Edgar's situation. "There is no pattern, sir," he finally said. "Sometimes a finger, other times an ear; she sent a hand once," he trailed off, ending with another sigh. "And, in one particularly gruesome case, she sent her victim's genitals." This time, the barrister didn't bother with an attempt at comfort.
Edgar sat quietly, bile in his throat, thoughts of Maddi carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey in his mind's eye. Before he could speak, the HC announced a clerk with his package. "Keep the line open, Mr. Aeternum," Evans requested.
"Sure, sure," Edgar said, hurrying to the door. After a quick exchange with the clerk, he came back to his desk. "I have it," he said, staring at the box. Despite knowing what must be done, he couldn't bring himself to open it.
"Sir," Evans voice was subdued. "I understand. I wish I could say I didn't, but I do. I was in your place once, a long time ago. If I was there, I'd open it for you, but I'm not. The longer we wait, the longer she has him, sir."
That quiet pronouncement brought Edgar to his senses and he slit the closures on the box. Slowly, he opened it and began removing the packing materials. There was a faint chemical odor emanating from it, but he didn't recognize the smell. Finally, he uncovered an envelope, took it out and opened it. Before he removed the letter, he told Evans what he'd found.
"Good, sir," the barrister replied, voice still tense. "Read it first before looking for more. Aloud, if you would, please?"
"Yeah, no problem," Edgar said. He fumbled with the paper, hands feeling numb and disconnected. "I have it. Here we go," and he began to read:
"Mr. Aeternum,
Congratulations on the first round. I didn't expect you to give in right away, but I'll admit to being very surprised at your response to my suit. You'r
e a bigger target than I usually go for, but a chunk of your account would allow me to retire. Can't blame a girl for trying, right?
Your barrister is a real bastard, by the way. I know he's the one behind the 'reassignment', as my previous employer called it. I guess he didn't know I don't like losing; nor, for that matter, do I like rural life on shithole colony worlds. I'm not a rank amateur, Edgar; I won't be tossed away like some piece of fluff.
Speaking of fluff… Your little boyfriend is quite the tasty-looking piece. Or, was, anyway. He's been slightly modified…"
Edgar dropped the letter. He felt as though he'd just been hit in the stomach by one of Basca's killer punches. Nothing registered in that moment, except Campbell's words, "He's been slightly modified." It took him several seconds to hear Evans' concerned voice over the comm.
"Mr. Aeternum! Are you there? Dammit, man, answer me!" the barrister's voice thundered.
"Sorry, Evans," Edgar said, almost whispering. He bent to retrieve the letter. "I, uh…" he managed before Evans cut him off.
"No need to explain, sir. Please continue; it's important," he said.
"You're right," Edgar answered, beginning to read from where he'd left off.
"He's been slightly modified and will require some time to heal. Of course, the first mods were necessary as he was attempting to escape. Naughty boy! It's amazing the damage a mini will do to someone's knees. As I said, that was just necessity; normally, I prefer a more artistic approach to such things. Assuming you haven't already found it, there's a little surprise for you in the bottom of the box. I'm afraid I'm not as good as I once was, but it's at least semi-recognizable. Of course, even if you had pretty boy there and a surgeon standing by, it's beyond reattachment. Sorry. I hear strap-ons are very realistic these days, though.
Now, to business; I know the size of your trust. Mommy and Daddy must've been fucking loaded! I want half. You trust fund children sicken me. This is the number for an account I've established:
Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love Page 23