by Tim Miller
Lisa pinched her lips shut, closed her eyes, and turned her head away.
“Open,” Ivy said softly, but Lisa ignored her. With her other hand, Ivy punched her hard across the side of the face. Lisa saw stars as she blinked, now feeling dazed. “Open!” Ivy said this time more forcefully. Lisa opened her mouth a tiny bit as Ivy shoved Lisa’s own finger on her severed hand into her mouth. She could taste Ivy’s juices, which tasted sweet; under normal conditions she might have even enjoyed it.
“Suck, bitch,” Ivy said. Fearing further torture, Lisa wrapped her lips around the finger and began sucking, or acting like she was, until Ivy was satisfied and pulled it away. Ivy returned the hand in between her legs and erotically grinded her hips against the severed hands as she moaned and sighed. Lisa looked on in both horror and bizarre fascination, temporarily ignoring the dull, throbbing pain in her stump. Ivy worked her hips faster and faster until she was orgasming.
Ivy moaned and cried out as she came, her whole body tensed and twitched for over a minute before she calmed down and her breathing returned to normal. She took a deep breath and tossed the hand aside, before zipping her pants back up and adjusting her hair.
“There, now we’ve both fingered each other. Felt good didn’t it?”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I enjoy it. And you’re mine. I paid for you.”
“Paid who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Ivy picked up a strap from the table with a set of metal clasps. She walked behind Lisa and wrapped it around her mouth. Lisa jerked her head and screamed but Ivy fastened it around the back of her head. She reached up and affixed each of the four clasps around the corners of Lisa’s mouth, and then cinched the strap tight, which stretched Lisa’s mouth open. Lisa screamed as her mouth was now stuck wide open.
Ivy walked to the table and picked up a small drill.
“I’m not gonna bullshit you,” she said. “This is going to hurt like a motherfucker.” As she shoved the drill into Lisa’s mouth, drilling into one of her molars. The drill whirred as the drill dug through the tooth’s enamel and into the root, striking the nerve. Lisa howled in pain as the coppery taste of her own blood filled her mouth. Ivy pulled the drill back and began on another tooth. Lisa continued to scream and tried to flail at Ivy, striking her weakly with her stump which Ivy ignored.
After drilling through several more teeth, Ivy set the drill down and looked Lisa over. Blood ran down her chin as Lisa sobbed, her mouth still stuck open.
“Damn girl, you’re a mess,” Ivy said as she picked up the drill again and lifted Lisa’s eyelid. Lisa screamed again as the drill whirred as Ivy slowly moved it closer and closer to her eyeball. Lisa helplessly tried to struggle until the tip of the drill bit touched her eyeball, puncturing the sclera as milky fluid squirted all over her face and onto Ivy’s leather. Ivy removed the drill as Lisa’s whole body continued to tremble.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Lisa screamed as Ivy reached up and lifted her other eyelid, Lisa struggled again as Ivy ran the drill into the other eye. Lisa kicked and thrashed as Ivy pulled away and watched as Lisa tried looking around.
“Oh my God! I can’t see! I can’t see! Please! Help me! I can’t see!”
Ivy ignored her as she picked up a power saw and revved the motor just inches from Lisa’s face.
“What is that? What are you going to do?” Lisa screamed as Ivy reached up and ran the drill along the top of Lisa’s head. Once again she screamed as blood trickled down her forehead. She ran the drill all the way around and turned it off. Lisa shook and twitched, still trying to look around.
“What did you do? What’s happening?”
Ivy pulled on Lisa’s hair on the top of her head as the top of her skull popped off. She sat it on the table looking up at the exposed brain.
“What is that? What are you doing?” Lisa blinked her eyes repeatedly but everything remained black, though her eyelids felt sticky from the milky fluid still oozing from her eye sockets. Ivy picked up an ice pick from the table and began poking at Lisa’s brain. She thrust the ice pick through one spot and pulled it out. She thrust it into another spot and then another as if she were poking a pin cushion. As she poked holes into Lisa’s brain, Lisa began to see stars in her darkness as well as visions of different colors and shapes. Her speech was slurred as she continued talking.
“Wha err yu do ug? Wha haffening to me?
Ivy kept poking until she grew bored, listening to Lisa jabber away. Soon Lisa wasn’t even making any sense. Her sounds were random noises and cackles as Ivy picked up a knife and began carving chunks out of the brain until Lisa stopped moving completely.
Chapter 7
Sophie sat on the couch watching the other rich bitches mingle around her. Sophie also wasn’t Sophie anymore. Mr. White had given her a new name, Laura Camp. She wasn’t sure who came up with that, or why, but Laura it was. They still wouldn’t tell her where Brett was, other than he was on an assignment. Since he used to be a reporter, maybe they had him investigating something. No telling with these people.
Mr. White had given her an invite to some party, full of rich snobs. She didn’t have the first clue how she was supposed to join one of these Country Clubs. It’s not like you could just go sign up online. He’d told her to attend the party and make friends. They’d flown her out to Dallas and set her up in her own house, giving her a BMW to drive. She’d hung out for several weeks just getting acclimated to her new surroundings. She was kind of liking acting like a rich person.
As she thought about her shopping sprees and other recent adventures as “new money” a beautiful Hispanic woman approached her. Laura stood and shook her hand.
“Hi, I’m Camila. So glad you could make it.”
“Thank you. I’m Laura.”
“Great to meet you. So Barry told me a lot about you. Said your startup really took off last year?”
Who the fuck is Barry? Mr. White had briefed her on her cover story but apparently left out a few details.
“Oh yeah. Barry tends to exaggerate. But yeah. It wasn’t last year, we launched three or four years ago. Who knew, all from a silly iPhone and Android app?”
“Yeah, I have a few friends who did well with those. Did you develop it yourself?”
“No. I’m a computer idiot mostly. It was my idea. Then I hired a team of developers, using my savings to get us started, and managed to get a couple investors. My team designed the app, which is really just a silly game. Instead of launching birds at pigs, you launch bowling balls at buildings and try to knock the building down. It’s addictive as hell. They can buy coins to power up and launch bigger items all the way up to a rocket or wrecking ball. So yeah, it's gotten crazy.”
“Yeah, I’ve played it. It really is addictive,” Camila said as she brushed her jet black hair aside. It was hard to believe a woman so charming and stunning could be behind something as horrific as the Country Club, but here she was. Laura had to remember that. This woman was pure evil. “So let me introduce you to some folks.”
Camila walked her around and met several ladies, all dressed in expensive dresses, all independently wealthy. Several weren’t even married. More than a few were widows, which had Laura wondering, especially with as young as some of them were. One woman stood out to her, this stunning black woman named Ivy. Something about her was just captivating. Mainly the way she talked. Her voice was almost hypnotic.
“So great to meet you,” Ivy said. “I love that dress. Who made it?”
Laura had to make up a story on the fly about having it custom made. It was a good thing she had gotten good at bullshitting over the past several years while on the run. She was literally making shit up as she went along. Ivy told her all about the chain of car dealerships she owned throughout the Dallas area. She and her husband had started them up. He apparently had wanted to sell them once they grew. She wanted to expand and open several more. He wanted to sell them and travel. Unfortunately,
he died of a heart attack one day.
Ivy had kept the company and opened her other dealerships. She now had a dozen locations and raked in millions a year. From listening to her, it sounded like Ivy had been the brains and backbone of the company from the start. He had the connections to get investors, but once they got started, he was quickly in over his head.
“Wow, that’s really amazing,” Laura said. “So you run everything by yourself?”
Ivy smiled brightly.
“Not totally. My sister helps a lot with the bean counting and things. I’m still very hands-on though. I visit each dealership at least once a week and check in with the managers to make sure things are going smoothly. It’s tough out there. You take your eyes off the road for a minute and someone will come take you out.”
“I bet. Sounds cutthroat.” Laura almost cringed at her use of the word, but she wasn’t supposed to know about any of that just yet. Though she wondered what kind of role Ivy played at the club, if any. She seemed so elegant and soft spoken.
“Oh it is. But despite my appearance I can be a real cunt when I have to. So I do pretty well.”
“That’s great!”
“So how do you know Camila?” Ivy asked.
“Oh through Barry.”
“Yeah! Barry! He’s great. He’s brought a lot of us together.”
Laura decided she needed to find out just who the hell Barry is.
“Yeah, that’s amazing,” Laura said as Camila walked up. Ivy stepped away as Camila and Laura chatted for a while. She told Laura how she’d started her own law firm several years ago. She started off doing criminal and family law and then took some personal injury cases. Over time, the personal injury cases paid so well she dropped the others and focused on that. Now she ran the second largest personal injury firm in Dallas. Her husband had also helped her start her firm, and he had died in a car accident a year after their firm had opened.
As they talked, Laura was careful not to drink too much wine. She took a few sips here and there, and when Camila wasn’t looking she dumped most of it in a plant before getting a refill. She wanted to look like she was having a good time without getting drunk and saying something stupid. One wrong word and these bitches would have her strapped to a table in their new club. No way was she going to let that happen.
Once the party ended, Camila and Laura exchanged numbers. Camila told her there was another get-together in a few days and she’d be letting her know. After she arrived at her home, she took out the cell phone Mr. White had left her and called.
“So how’d it go?” Mr. White asked.
“Fine I guess. Who the hell is Barry?”
“Oh Barry! He’s a former club organizer. Well, he still is, technically, he’s also working with us.”
“You mean like a double agent?”
“Something like that, yes. You find anything out?”
“Just hung out with this Camila chick, met a bunch of other ladies and then Camila said she’d call me about another get together next week.”
“Good! Good! Sounds like you made a great impression. I knew you would.”
“Yeah I had to bullshit a lot. Hopefully I won’t forget the crap I told them.”
“I’m sure you did fine.”
“I was hoping they’d mention the club or invite me in.”
“Oh not on the first time. They’re getting to know you and they like you. You’re tough, like them, and they can see that.”
“Good. I just hope no one recognizes me. My face was all over the news a few years ago.”
“Yes but you look different now. Your hair was much shorter than and you were well…how should I put it? Rougher looking.”
“Well thanks.”
“It’s really a compliment. You’d been on the run for a while. You clean up quite nicely.”
“Whatever. Hey. So what do I do if they ask how I know Barry or ask me shit about him? I never heard of the guy.”
“I really can’t tell you too much about him. We need to protect him”
“I get that but they think I know him. What if they ask?”
“Do what you did tonight. Tell them bullshit. Goodnight Laura,” he said as he hung up. She tossed the phone onto the bed and slipped out of her dress. Heading into the bathroom, she started a bath in her large tub. At least if she had to act rich she should enjoy herself a tiny bit. No telling if or when this job was going to get her killed.
Chapter 8
After several weeks on the job, Derek was starting to get the hang of it. Working at the club wasn’t overly difficult. All he had to do was herd people in and out, luckily he didn’t have to clean up. They had other crews for that. He had no idea where they found those guys. The cleanup guys were all pale and sullen as if they hadn’t seen the sun in years. They didn’t talk either.
It took him a few days to stop throwing up. The first night was the worst. When he saw what those women did to those people. At first he was terrified, it took every ounce of strength in him to not turn and run away. He knew the place was well fortified and acting like that would only get him killed. No wonder it paid what it did. He remembered Camila warning him about severe consequences for breaking the rules. Derek didn’t even want to imagine what those consequences consisted of.
Most nights were fairly quiet. Other than the screams coming from the various rooms, you wouldn’t think anything was going on at all. Members arrived, went to their rooms and did their thing. Most left shortly after, but others hung out in the lounge and mingled. The lounge was more like a small nightclub. There was even a live band some nights.
Derek wasn’t sure which shocked him more, the amount of brutal savagery these women were capable of, or the sheer volumes of alcohol they could consume. Either way, any illusions he’d previously had about women being the weaker sex went out the window in that first week. The only night any of them acted off was when Mr. Black came to visit. He apparently ran the place, or was in charge of the people who ran the place.
Camila had been running around barking at everyone to get the place cleaned and organized. She also ordered Derek to prepare one of the “assets” as she liked to call them. It took him a bit to not look at them as people. He’d killed plenty of people in Iraq and had done his best to compartmentalize it in his head. By thinking of them as the enemy, they weren’t human to him. They were trying to kill him, so he had to kill them first. It was the same with these assets. If he didn’t do his job, he’d be killed. No way was he going to be strapped to one of those tables and torn apart.
Derek walked into the holding room and knelt down, opening one of the cages and grabbing one of the men who had been locked down there for over a week. He wasn’t sure why they’d been holding onto him, but the guy had been there too long as far as Derek was concerned. He was tired of hearing the guy’s begging and pleading all day. There had been some new assets added in since the previous day.
He opened the door to the sound of screaming and wailing. When he opened the cage, he grabbed the man by the hair and dragged him from the cage. The man tried to struggle but was weak from being underfed and cooped up for so long. Derek punched him in the ribs several times, which was enough to weaken the man. He placed the zip ties around his wrists and pulled him to his feet.
“Please don’t do this!” the man said. “You can’t do this! We’re not just animals. I’m a person! We’re people! My name is Paul. Paul Geary! I have a family. I have a girlfriend and we have a little boy together. I’m sure they miss me. I bet the police are looking for me right now!”
Derek ignored him as he dragged him by the arm to one of their larger suites on the first floor. This one wasn’t located with the other rooms. It was a VIP suite Derek hadn’t seen used before. When he stepped inside, he saw it was much larger than the other rooms. There was a large table in the center just like the others. This one however, had not just a table with various instruments, but also a mini kitchen along the wall, a mini bar and various pots, pans and cooking
utensils.
“What’s going on? What’s going to happen to me?” The man cried as Derek strapped him to the table. Once he got the man strapped down he turned to walk out of the room but the man continued begging.
“Please! Say something! I’ve seen you coming and going for days! You’re about to kill me and you won’t even talk! Why? Why?”
Derek finally shrugged.
“I got nothing to say, man. This is just a job for me.”
“Are they going to hurt me bad? Will I die quick at least? At least tell me that!”
“You are going to feel more pain than you ever thought possible. Trust me,” Derek said and turned and left the room. As he returned to the main hall, Camila was there talking to a young man wearing a suit. The man reminded him of Christian Bale in American Psycho. Young, handsome, with far too perfect and too chiseled features. The man flashed Derek a smile and extended his hand.
“Derek!” Camila said. “This is Mr. Black, he’s the one who got our club going! He came to pay us a personal visit. Isn’t that amazing!”
“Yes. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Derek lied. Other than that he was some kind of boss he knew nothing about the man.
“Thank you, Derek. Same for you. Camila speaks quite highly of you. I review all of the new hires, and as you can imagine some don’t work out quite so well. Separation from our organization is a bit of a painful process,” Mr. Black said with a smirk. “But that is why I’m lucky to have Camila here. She has a good eye for talent. We’ve only ever had a couple of problems under her leadership here.”
“So if I may ask, sir,” Derek began before he could stop himself. “What is your role here? I thought Camila ran the club.”