Breaking The Mold

by Drew Sera

  I messed with her mind and body last night. I wore her down physically and mentally, and I loved seeing the defeat on her face. I kept her tied up to the stairs, facing the woods for about fifteen minutes. Then I’d bring her inside, flog her, and then chain her back up in the room. I left her alone in the dark room for a few hours and then took her back outside and left her for another fifteen minutes while tied to the stairs. Then I’d bring her inside out of the element, flog her, and leave her in the dark room again. After our fourth cycle of this, I decided that I had achieved the results I wanted. I brought her inside, fucked her, and got her to scream while I flogged her. Her raw scream sent tingles up my spine today. Since her skin was still cold, the flogger probably felt like a hot sword slicing through her skin. Unintentionally, I broke some skin on her back due to the skin’s temperature.

  She shivered and curled up on the floor after I finished whipping her. I brought her some toast and water, but she looked defeated and resigned. I wondered if we were possibly getting closer to her realizing I had no intentions of giving her back to Everett and Graves.

  I actually had a place all set up in the Cayman Islands, and she was going to make me a lot of money. But before I went anywhere with this one, I was going to make sure she was rid of anything Everett and Graves. I knew we were getting closer. At least I thought so until I went back to see if she had finished her toast.

  When I walked into the room, she begged me to hurt her and not Graves. Unfucking real. I tied her to a staircase and left her in the freezing cold for several cycles. I had flogged her, fucked her, and barely fed her. Yet the bitch was still thinking of Graves and Everett. She had a stronger will than I anticipated she’d have. I went a little off the plan. I was irate and seeing red.

  I held her up against the wall and decided to make a nice video of her passing out under my hand for Everett. I hoped it would cause him extreme distress. I wondered if he’s going to start lashing out at the Golden Boy due to stress. I’d enjoy watching Everett beat the fuck out of the beloved Anthony Graves.

  My video turned out perfectly, and I obtained the desired effect of her passing out. That would definitely upset Everett. While I was applying just the right amount of pressure to her twig neck, I was a little surprised she had so much energy to fight, given her weakened state.

  Hours later when she came around, I began pushing her mind some more. She’s so weak from what I’d thrown at her physically that she couldn’t think straight.

  “You shouldn’t give a fuck about Graves.” I began my mind fucking some more. “Graves told me he didn’t care what I did to you as long as I left him alone.”

  She shook her head at me after being knocked out for a few hours. The crazy bitch actually shook her head. She was calling me a liar. She said, “Anthony would never say that.” I hit her so hard in the face that I saw her eyelids flutter and then they stayed closed as she slumped against the wall. I was fucking pissed. Her play card from Irons said that dark rooms were something to avoid.

  No.

  She wasn’t going to be so lucky. Sydney and the dark were going to become good friends.

  I was running out of time. It’s already the 15th, and I had a very small window of time to deliver at least Sydney to the Caribbean. I figured she would have been much easier to break. Her mental toughness surprised me.

  The buyer in the Caribbean was expecting delivery between the 15th and the 25th. And I still had work to do with Sydney.

  Tammie had to go. She was just in the way. Anytime the gag was removed so she could eat and hydrate, she just slurred, rambled and bitched. She couldn’t be sold. Tammie merely looked the part of what many buyers over there wanted. But she wasn’t docile or submissive. Not like Sydney was.

  I made up my mind to remove Tammie from the equation. With her deceased, my brother would get the money as her beneficiary that I had her set up. After I ate a quick dinner and had Sydney gagged outside in the cold element, I set off to the room I kept Tammie in to take care of it.

  Afterward, I sat against the wall in her room. I had a lot of blood on my hands now. But it would help my brother, and that’s what made this worth it. And now I needed to go instill the fear of death into Sydney. She needed to see that I was capable of killing so she’d behave. I had to start the move with her and desperately needed her to behave.

  Holding Sydney tight in my arms as I opened the closet door felt amazing. She had her gag on still, and I wrapped my hand firmly around her throat. I wanted to feel her pulse. I flung the closet door open and held her tightly in my arms as she screamed through the gag. Tammie hung from a rope in the closet, her heavy, lifeless feet banging against the door and the back of the closet. Sydney screamed and fought against me until she grew tired and weak. I held her tightly while she shook with fear.

  I was enjoying it until I started to feel her struggle for air. Her throat made swallowing motions one right after another without pause. She was congested and wasn’t getting enough air, and it appeared that she was having a panic attack. I couldn’t afford for Sydney to die on me. No, not Sydney. The other one was expendable, but not Everett’s whore. I told her I’d take her gag off as long as she was quiet. She nodded frantically and gasped for air when I removed the gag just in time to get out of the way of her vomit.

  She stuttered when she asked me where Graves was. The fucking cunt actually asked me about fucking Graves. I wished to hell I had him here. I’d let her watch as I fucked him then beat him to death. Fucking Golden Boy. It always made me irate that so many unattached subs would line up and almost beg for a fucking chance to please him. There was always a long line of bottoms and subs that wanted an opportunity to take part in a threesome with him and Everett.

  “Why would you fucking ask me about Graves? Fucking useless prick that he is.” I roughly chained her to the floor close to the open closet door. I was going to leave her here with the body tonight. “Just remember, you’re a useless cunt, and Everett doesn’t give a fuck about you. Neither does Graves. I was going to bring him in here, but he said he didn’t want to be near you. You know why? You’re damaged trash. You can sit here and face that closet tonight. Decide if you want to end up like her.”

  She was a quivering mess, and my words obviously hurt. I grabbed her head and whispered in her ear, “Sleep tight.”

  Phase two of my plan to fuck with Everett was coming, and Blake was coming along for the ride.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  January 2014

  Blake

  I was eating dinner with Colin and Anthony when I received a disturbing text from an unknown number. I knew it was from Paul because since he kidnapped Sydney, he’d been on a text and video assault with Colin. And now, I guessed it was my turn to receive some of it.

  702-555-9051: Better not lose sight of that boy of yours. He might fall into the wrong hands. By the way, FUCK YOU!

  Colin’s cell phone went off at the same time. We looked at one another, and I knew it was the same text message. He bolted from the table, and I glanced at Anthony.

  “What does it say, Blake?” Anthony asked me.

  I handed him my phone and watched his eyebrows shoot up. He smirked and handed me back the phone.

  “Blake, he’s not going to get me,” Anthony said with confidence.

  I didn’t think Paul would get him either, but Paul wasn’t thinking clearly and any threat, as idle as it seemed, must be taken seriously. Paul was dangerous.

  Through the evening I received picture texts from unknown numbers. The pictures were incredibly disturbing in nature. They were either photos of Anthony and Colin engaged in scenes at the club or photos that Paul took of him and a male sub. In those, Anthony’s head appeared to have been photo edited onto Paul’s sub’s body.

  I got home late, and I decided to reach out to Amy in the morning and just make sure she’s doing okay.

  And to make sure she hadn’t gone missing.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  January 2014<
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  Paul

  We were leaving in the morning, and everything’s packed up. Sydney was conforming, and I had one day left to appear with her in the Caribbean for the buyer to see her.

  My flight was scheduled, and even though I thought I’d have Graves and Everett out of her head, I could still work it out of her once we arrived. Besides, I was sure last night’s beating and mental game inside and outside might have done the trick.

  Bringing her inside was like dragging in a soaked dead body. She was heavy in my hands, and since I hosed her off before chaining her to the stairs, her hair had ice crystals in it. Her skin was pale, and teeth were chattering. She looked defeated, and I just about threw my hands up in victory. Just about.

  She was saying something under her breath. Or maybe that was all she could muster for full strength at the moment. As I got closer though, I heard it. Loud and fucking clear.

  “Anth-ony, C-col-in,” she chattered.

  Anger seared hot through my veins, and I grabbed her by her neck and threw her down. I had packed all the whips, so all I had was my own belt. I tore it from my pants and began beating her with it uncontrollably. She curled up in a ball on the floor as I rained force down on her. Blood became apparent, and then I was seized with more anger. I had cut her up pretty bad. It would take fucking weeks, maybe a month for these marks to heal. It only made me beat her harder. I only stopped when I grew tired.

  Everett should see this. Fucking gorgeous. Realizing that I had gone through my supply of phones, I grabbed Sydney’s. I powered the thing on, snapped a few photos and sent them to Everett. Fuck him!

  As my luck would have it, I had to endure the fucking sick display of him smiling as I selected his name from Sydney’s phone and hit send. Fucking Everett. I quickly shut the phone off and chained her back up.

  I stood up and looked at her cell phone.

  Fuck, I used her phone.

  I quickly thought. Chances were that it’s ok. In the back of my head, as I finished packing up the last few bits, I still worried.

  I sat on the couch thinking about Johnny. His surgery was scheduled for the end of the month, and I’d be back barely in time. While I was thinking of my brother, I heard a car coming down the snowy road.

  What the fuck?

  I put my gun in the waistband of the back of my pants and cautiously walked out on the porch, ready to turn anyone around. I waited as the headlights drew closer, revealing the vehicle. I was expecting a stranger who had turned down the wrong path, or even the police possibly. But I wasn’t expecting to see Colin fucking Everett’s goddamn Range Rover.

  I took off in a sprint to the thick woods. Behind me, I heard four car doors shut. I knew for sure Colin, Anthony, and Matt were back there. Blake was possibly the fourth.

  Fucking think!

  I knew the woods as I had been out for walks multiple times during the days. Sydney was most likely a lost cause now. Tammie was gone, but my brother would have the beneficiary money.

  He would be okay.

  My time most likely was limited. Even if I escaped the woods, it wouldn’t be long before I was caught, and I couldn’t make my brothers watch me go down.

  I ducked behind a thick tree to catch my breath and think. And then I heard the voice that still to this fucking day made my heart jump.

  “Paul! You fucking coward!”

  Anthony.

  Goddammit.

  I never had him. I chased him for so long, and Blake was right, I’d never have him. I reached into my pocket for the knife and quietly opened it. If I couldn’t have him, no one was going to have him.

  Certainly not Colin fucking Everett.

  When Anthony got close, I reached out and stabbed him.

  “Fuck!” he grunted.

  I hurt him! I fucking caused him pain!

  I stood there staring at Anthony as he reached for his side. He pulled the knife out and knocked me to the ground.

  Wake up! This is your one and only chance with him! This is your last shot!

  Punches were thrown, and we both fought for footing on the slick, snowy ground.

  Come on, Graves! Give me all your fire and rage!

  I punched Anthony in the side where I had stabbed him and watched him buckle. I tackled him, and as I had his body against mine on the ground, everything came to life in me. It lasted for a moment until he knocked me off of him.

  “You’re going to regret touching a hair on her head, you fucking asshole!” he swore at me.

  He made me laugh. God, I’d been waiting for decades for this.

  “Let’s go, Graves. I’m dying to see what you’re really made of,” I challenged.

  I saw the fire and fury as he charged at me.

  “Come on, Graves! Show me the fire that you hide from everyone! Show me your darkness! I know it’s in you! I saw it the day you walked into Irons!”

  We punched and hurled each other around and eventually went to the damp ground again.

  “I could have helped you! I wanted to help you after your dad died!”

  I had him pinned under me now and sat over him just below his waist. I was going to feel this fucking guy if it’s the last thing I do.

  “Hey!” Blake yelled.

  Fucking Blake. Always around to bail this fucking guy out. Not this time. I pulled the gun out and aimed at Blake.

  “Stop right there, Blake. You can fucking watch. Everyone is so goddamn obsessed with fucking Anthony Graves. Literally. I’ve been dying to see what all the fuss is over!”

  “Paul, this ends now,” Blake yelled.

  “It never had to start Blake! Fucking Everett just wouldn’t let me play once! He embarrassed me in front of other Masters and subs! And that fucking cunt never fully got them out of her mind! I broke her down to nothing, and when I had her right where I wanted her, she said this prick’s name! Fucking Anthony Graves!”

  I punched Anthony’s stomach and pressed harder on his side when I saw the blood come out of his mouth. He squirmed under me, and it felt so good. His pants were undone, and I ran my hand along his abdomen and then up to his chest, gripping and squeezing as I went.

  “Stop, Paul!” Blake yelled again.

  I took my eyes off Anthony for a second, and he took advantage, hitting me hard in the face with packed snow. I brushed it off and regained control. I punched Anthony in the face and then shot him in the upper chest.

  He wailed in pain and began writhing around under me.

  “You’re making it so hard for me to be hard on you, Anthony,” I said as I continued to grab at him. “But I’m trying my best. But deep down I’m burning inside…just like you.”

  “I’m nothing like you, Paul,” Anthony wheezed out at me as blood seeped from his mouth.

  As I glared at him, I heard a gun and then felt the pain in my back. Had I been shot? Who? Startled, I dropped the gun and felt everything moving slowly as we scrambled for it.

  I looked down and saw his gray eyes disappear as the barrel of my gun appeared and was pointed at me.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  February 2014

  I kissed my wife and Kelsie goodbye and set out for the four-hour drive to Costa Mesa, California. I was confident everything at home would be fine until I returned late tonight.

  “Why aren’t you flying?” Kelsie asked me before I left.

  “The drive will be good for me sweetheart.”

  My head was so full that it could explode. I needed to be back tonight for sure because I was on breakfast detail tomorrow morning with Colin, Sydney and Anthony.

  It’d only been a few weeks, and everything was still very fresh. I realize life is precious and I almost lost the person who I considered my son; Anthony. Nearly losing him on top of his recent revelation to me of how he spent his childhood made it more important that I make sure he knew what he meant to me.

  Nightmares have shaken me ever since that night in the woods. The visual reminders of that night, I may never get over. I lost a friend that ni
ght and nearly lost Anthony. Truth be told though, I had lost Paul’s friendship many years ago. He changed over the years and became someone that I didn’t recognize.

  I pulled up to a modest home in sunny Costa Mesa and checked the address again before I got out of the car. The home was painted a slate blue and had white trim and shutters. It was very nautical and appropriate for the area.

  I rang the doorbell and waited.

  The door opened and Amy stood before me. She looked healthy and smiled when she saw me.

  “Blake, it’s so nice to see you!”

  Amy stepped out on the porch and wrapped her arms around me. As I held her close, I wondered if it was a good idea for me to have come. She seemed to be in such good spirits and was most likely trying to move on.

  “Come in, please,” she invited me inside.

  Amy led me through her home to the patio, and we settled there to talk. When I told her what happened, she sat still and looked down. Moments later, she covered her mouth with her hand and her shoulders began to quiver. I moved to her and embraced her as she cried.

  “Loving J.P. was never hard.” Amy sniffled and smiled. “He came with that carefree smile and those handsome eyes. He was clever and as quick as a whip.” Amy’s face shifted to a frown. “I loved him, but it was so lonely loving him. He was with me one moment and then next he was intensely obsessed with Anthony Graves.”

  I looked away and squinted in the sunlight and took a deep breath.

  “It was an obsession that love couldn’t even overcome. Never in my wildest imagination did I ever think that the obsession with Anthony was as deep and dark as it was.”

  I spent the afternoon talking to Amy about everything and her hands caught my eyes again. I reached out and held them open. The scars were still there from when Paul canned her in anger.