“Maybe you’ve just been with the wrong women. Most Doms need an emotional connection with their subs—something more than impact play and showing off their latest kink skill.”
Not a direct question, so Marc just thought about what Adam had said for a moment. He’d gone on to play Top for any number of women at the resort after his induction into the lifestyle. He’d even gotten to enjoy himself with some of the women after a while, but any time he thought about Mrs. Giovanni, he felt only one thing—dirty.
Without warning, Adam hauled him up on his feet again, but, when his knees buckled, Adam held him until he became steady. “Remain on your fucking feet!” Adam confused him. One minute he cared, the next he treated him like shit. Marc locked his knees and fought to remain upright.
“Time for you to take another piss.”
Mortified at having Adam treat him like a child, Marc cringed when only a few drops hit the bucket. Probably getting dehydrated, but asking for water wouldn’t help speed this scene up. Adam would meet his needs, not his wants.
“You done?”
Marc nodded.
“Fine, but next time you can piss on the floor if that’s the best you can do. I’m not giving you any special favors if you don’t appreciate all I’m doing for you.”
Marc’s face burned with shame. He’d never felt so exposed. Not since he’d been in Mrs. Giovanni’s suite.
Adam yanked him by his arms several steps again, probably back to where he’d been a few minutes ago, and unclipped the wrist cuffs.
“Drink this.” Adam handed him a bottle of water and lifted the hood up over Marc’s mouth and nose. Marc fought the urge to rip the hood the rest of the way off, now that his hands were free. That would only make Adam angry.
Marc’s hand shook as he brought the cold liquid to his lips and devoured it. By the weight of the bottle, he guessed it was only half filled. Barely enough to keep his kidneys functioning. When he finished the contents, he crushed the plastic bottle and handed it back to Adam, who pulled Marc’s hands behind his back again. Marc gritted his teeth to keep from screaming at the counter strain on already aching shoulder sockets and muscles.
“Step up, one foot on each box.” Adam helped guide him onto two wobbly boxes. “Bend your fucking knees and lean forward. Pretend you’re leaning over the john to puke your guts out. You might just feel like puking after drinking that water.”
Marc assumed the position he thought Adam wanted and fought to find his balance. His legs began shaking almost immediately, making the unstable boxes do the same, but he managed to regain his footing, such as it was.
Adam won’t harm you.
Several tugs of the wrist cuffs, and they were clipped behind his back. Adam ran rope through them again. Probably using some sort of pulley to stretch his arms behind him, he nearly yanked Marc’s arms to the breaking point. Another fucking Abu Ghraib stress position. Sweat soaked his hood in a matter of minutes.
Adam is doing this for my own good. I trust him.
He no more than had that thought when a knock at the door made him jump. “Adam! Open the door!”
Karla?
“What are you doing down here, Kitten?” Adam’s voice receded. The door opened. “I told you not to—good God, Karla! What have you done to your hand?”
“I was trying to fix dinner. The knife slipped. I think I’m going to pass out, Adam. Oh!”
“Fuck! Lean on me, Kitten. How long has it been bleeding like that?”
“Ten minutes. I tried to stop it by holding it under cold water.” She hiccupped through her sobs. “I applied pressure. I can’t make it stop bleeding.”
Sounded like a deep tissue wound. “Cut me down, Adam. Let me have a look.”
“I’m scared, Adam. What if something happens to the—”
“Come on. I’m getting you to the hospital.”
“What about Marc?”
“He’s not going anywhere.”
Marc heard the shuffle of footsteps followed by a deafening silence.
“Untie me, Adam!”
No response.
“Adam! Karla!”
The silence dragged on interminably. They’d left him here. Marc began to shift from one leg to the other to relieve the stress. The boxes shook so badly, he decided he’d better stand as still as possible. If he fell off of either of them, he’d pull his fucking arms out of their sockets.
How could Adam just leave him tied and alone like this? How long would it have taken the man to cut him down before he’d taken Karla to the hospital? Adam would never have left a sub alone and vulnerable like this.
All bets were off when it came to anything happening to Karla. Adam couldn’t see reason when worrying about her or the baby.
The strain on Marc’s arms forced him to unbend his knees, but when he tried to straighten his back somewhat, the movement set the boxes shaking violently. He resumed his original position.
Did anyone other than Adam and Karla know he was down here? As time stretched out into what seemed like hours, Marc lost control of his bladder. Piss ran down his legs. He didn’t care anymore. No one could see him.
His body began to shake uncontrollably. So tired. He wanted to sleep, but how could he do so without inflicting major injury on his arms?
The one person he’d trusted to always have his back had abandoned him.
“I’ll take care of you.”
Marc jerked awake at the sound of that voice. “Gino? You came back?”
“I told you I’d always take care of you. What the fuck kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”
Marc ignored the question. “I thought you were dead.”
“Nah. Taken prisoner. I escaped.”
A prisoner of war? Why had Adam lied to him when he’d described the scenario of Gino’s death in detail? He’d said he even went in to recover Gino’s body.
Adam lied. Everyone did.
“Cut these ropes. Let me down.”
“I can’t.” Did Marc detect a Spanish accent in Gino?
“Why the fuck not?”
“Top will string me up by the balls if I mess with what he’s trying to do here.”
“He’s not even here. He left me!”
“You sure about that?”
How could he be certain of anything anymore? But all indications were that Adam had taken Karla to the ER. “I’m sure.”
“He’s my master sergeant, too, and was long before you ever knew him. I won’t disobey Top. That man went through hell for his Marines in our…my recon unit. You don’t even know the half of it.”
Marc had seen the old shrapnel scars on Adam’s back when he treated Adam on the scene of the cougar attack. Marc had a decent idea of what Adam had suffered for his Marines.
Wait! Hadn’t those injuries happened during the mission that killed Gino? But Gino was here saying he’d escaped, too. His head hurt trying to sort out truth from lies.
“Take off this hood, Gino. I want to see you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m pretty messed up. Besides, you heard what I said about Top’s orders.”
Fine. Marc would talk with him then. Maybe he could work out whatever Adam had wanted him to earlier.
“You going to come home?”
“Can’t.”
Marc’s anger flared. “Why the fuck not? You know how much they miss you.”
“Can’t, but you have no excuse for staying away. Why the fuck are you cutting them off? They love you.”
“Not like they loved—love—you.”
“Bullshit. They loved us both equally.”
“Yeah, whatever you say.”
Gino paused a while before adding, “I’m sorry about Melissa, Marc.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She really didn’t matter. “Wait ’til you meet my new girl, Angelina. I’m going to marry her someday.”
Silence.
Would Gino make a move on Angelina, too? “Tou
ch her and I’ll break your fucking face.”
Mine.
“Hear me, Gino? I mean it.”
No response.
He was gone? Marc’s eyes filled with tears and he shouted, “Don’t fucking leave me again. You promised!”
His body jerked as he caught himself before he fell off the boxes.
Bzzzt.
“Fuck!” Marc jerked awake smelling burning flesh. Had Adam zapped him again with the stun gun? He’d fallen asleep. Had he been dreaming? Hallucinating, more like it. Gino alive? Impossible. While he’d give anything to have his brother back to be able to apologize to Gino for the way they’d parted that last time, he knew in his heart he was dead. His mind was playing tricks on him. Sleep deprived psychosis.
Why hadn’t Marc told him he was sorry just a few minutes ago? Goddamn it! He’d had his chance in that exchange with him, whether real or a figment of his imagination. Instead, Gino had been the one to apologize for screwing Melissa.
“I’m sorry, Gino!” He knew no one was there but screamed out anyway. “I was wrong! I always expected you to come back. You promised you’d never leave me.”
Silence.
Tears dripped off his nose. What day was it? Would anyone be in the house to be able to hear him? Was it a club night? Did Adam close the entire club or just the dungeon area?
What if club members were looking at him now? He’d asked Adam not to allow spectators. But Adam was in control or had been before he left him alone down here.
How could Adam fucking leave someone alone and restrained in a position like this? Even if he did have to get Karla help stat, he could have at least called someone to take over the scene.
He must have. Surely they were there watching over him now. “Damián! Grant! Somebody get me the fuck out of here!”
No response.
Panic clawed at his chest. Marc twisted his fingers in an effort to reach the buckles on the wrist cuffs. Handcuffs would be easier to get out of. Or Velcro closures. He needed to find a way to get down from here. “This scene is over, Adam! Red! You hear me? I’m putting an end to this fucking scene!”
Silence.
“Can anybody goddamned hear me? Dungeon monitors, do your fucking jobs!”
Not that he’d always done his job as a DM. Marc remembered back to when he’d been the DM Supervisor charged with protecting the submissives in the club and making sure the scenes being played out were safe and consensual.
Angelina’s screams that night cut him to the core even to this day. She’d been left at the hands of a poser Dom who had beaten her beyond her limits all because Marc had been late to his post.
Some protector he was.
“Amore, I’m so sorry. I failed you, too.” Shame washed over him. “I left you with Sir Asshole too long. My fault.”
Exhausted, his legs began to shake with the effort to remain on the boxes. How long had he been left here? Abandoned. Gino could have cut him down.
But Adam leaving him alone cut even deeper. He’d trusted Adam to take care of him in this scene. But hadn’t Marc instructed him to involve as few people as possible? Maybe if he’d trusted his other friends, someone might have been here to step in when Adam left to take care of Karla’s injury.
Why hadn’t he cut Marc down? Hell, he could have treated her and stabilized the wound in minutes. Adam knew he had emergency medical training but had panicked. His paralyzing fear that something would happen to Karla or the baby was…
But Adam had suffered both those losses in the past. No wonder he didn’t trust Marc to take care of Karla. Adam expected Marc to fuck up, just like that other time…
“Bambino mio!” If his hands had been freed, Marc would have covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear her voice ever again. Block it out. “Water! Marco, bring Mama water!”
Marc’s throat burned as a racking sob tore from deep inside.
“Fuck you, Gino! Fuck you, too, Adam!” Leave me. I don’t care. “I don’t need any of you! Do you fucking hear me? I don’t need you! Rot in hell, for all I care!”
He gasped for air as his lungs constricted. The hood was wet with tears.
“Bambino mio! I need you!”
“Mama, I’m sorry. I failed you.” He drew another ragged breath. “All my fault.” The crushing weight on his heart threatened to consume him. “I let you die.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Bingo. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Adam watched the monitor as they moved into hour fifty-four.
Adam squeezed Damián’s shoulder. “Convinced him you were Gino.”
Damián shrugged. “Flubbed up once saying our recon unit, but his head’s so fucked up, I don’t think he noticed.
“You also did a great job on the music selections, too. I’m not sure I’d have been able to hold it together for more than two days of listening to that shit, the way Doc did. You’d have had to lock me up after about thirty minutes.”
“I don’t know why you two think it’s so fucking awful,” Damián said. “I find metal music relaxing.”
Adam shook his head and turned to watch Marc struggle against his restraints.
That’s it, Doc. Exhaust yourself.
If Marc had already reached the mild psychosis phase, this interrogation might go quicker than Adam had predicted. Of course, Marc showed up Friday looking as if he’d had little to no sleep the last couple nights, which probably helped speed him toward the breaking point.
Adam continued, “Where’d you get that stun gun?”
“Made it myself. It’s great for a mindfuck like this.”
“Remind me never to volunteer to do a demo with you using it.”
Damián grinned. They watched silently a few minutes before Damián interjected, “Before I forget, Savannah, Marisol, and I are flying out to California Friday. Already got our tickets. Do you think you’re going to need me here that long?”
“No problem. Looks like he’ll be in aftercare no later than Wednesday. Hope so, anyway. That’s Karla’s birthday. Grant’s coming in tomorrow morning for the duration, including the week we’ll probably need for aftercare.”
Adam had never done a scene this edgy or drawn out, not for someone he cared about anyway. All three of them had been through SERE resistance training, but had been on the receiving end then, not dishing out the torture.
Marc stopped fighting but hadn’t fallen asleep yet, as far as Adam could judge from the strain in his forearm flexors.
“What’s taking you all to SoCal again so soon? It’s too early for any court appearances against those neutered scumbags.” Dishing out torture to shitheads like Savannah’s father and Lyle? Well, that had been pure, unadulterated pleasure.
“Nothing like that. Just a marriage prep talk with Father Martine.”
Adam had never had a church wedding so hadn’t had any preparation classes. Maybe he could have used some—both times. Karla was none too happy with him lately. Knowing she carried not one but two little Montagues just strengthened his resolve even more. He would let nothing jeopardize the health and safety of his family.
“That’s good,” Adam said. Savannah wasn’t strong enough to face her abusers yet. He kept his eye on Marc for any signs of danger. While the rope was rigged to give way if Marc fell off the boxes, he still could get a nasty head injury if he hit the boxes instead of the mattresses surrounding them. “Son, you make sure I’m in the front row for those hearings whenever the DA lets you know they’ve been scheduled. I’m going to make sure those shitheads remember everything we promised them if they try to skirt justice.”
Damián nodded. “I’ll be right there with you.” He paused before adding, “I’m taking Savannah on base Saturday to visit some of the recon unit members. Another deployment coming up.”
“Tell them hi from me. Semper Fi.” Adam watched Marc’s head nod. “How’s Savannah doing?” The rescue had only been five weeks ago.
“Surprisingly well. The slut mindfuck worked better than expected.”
“Judging by the headboard you broke, I’d say so.”
Damián grinned. “Thanks for helping me plan parts of that scene. Hardest one I’ve ever had to do.”
“Redirecting those messages from fucking abusers sometimes takes extreme measures.” Adam wasn’t sure he’d ever rid himself of the tapes in his own head, although reuniting with his mother last year had helped him heal some of the hurts and correct some of the bad information he’d stored away. “Keep an eye on her. Survivors of childhood shit have had a lifetime to learn to mask things so as not to worry those around them.” He ought to know.
Was that what was going on with Marc? Some kind of abuse from his past? “Never know when a trigger will hit.”
“Don’t have to tell me. She’s still having a lot of nightmares from the abduction, mostly worrying about Marisol’s safety even though she protected her from harm. Hopefully those will decrease the farther we get away from the incident.”
Marc’s head rolled forward, and his body relaxed, straining his biceps. “You’re on, son.”
Damián nodded and picked up the leather tawse. Marc didn’t flinch or correct himself as Damián approached. Must be in a micro-sleep if not REM even. Damián aimed for his ass.
Slap!
“Fuck, Adam!”
Adam grinned and waited to see if Damián would announce his presence in the scene.
Marc’s body tensed and began shaking as he nearly toppled off the boxes.
“Wrong, my friend. Not Adam. Your worst nightmare. You know what I can do to that soft body of yours.”
Marc’s body tensed. He had to be squirming at hearing Damián’s voice. Adam grinned. Marc wouldn’t let his guard down for a while now. He found his balance on the boxes again before Damián returned to the observation area in the weight room.
Adam shook his head. “I must be slipping, because I didn’t get so much as a Merda out of the man last time I hit him with the tawse.”
Damián grinned back at him and shrugged. “You’re not the sadist around here.”
“Looks like you have things under control. I’m going to go catch a few hours of shut-eye. Grant’s due at 0700 hours. We need to mess with his head and straighten out some shit for memories that have him stuck.”
Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) Page 42