Samantha started crying.
“Put her back down!”
“Do you want to be lifted up too?” Jimmy asked.
Megan didn’t reply.
Jimmy took hold of Samantha’s shirt and pulled it up all the way over her head and wrapped it around the ropes. He then used his knife and cut off her bra, exposing her completely.
“Stop it!” Megan shouted. “Leave her alone!”
Jimmy turned and came at her with the knife, which he pushed up against her right breast, the cloth of her shirt barely masking the feel of the sharp point as it threatened to pierce the flesh just under her nipple. “Don’t say another word unless you want to spend another night hanging from your wrists, after I whip the shit out of you.”
All Megan could focus on was the knife, her body unable to back up because his other hand was holding her in place.
Please don’t cut me!
Her lips stayed sealed.
Jimmy pulled the tip away and went back to Samantha, his hand setting the knife on the floor so he could scrub her clean with the square of cloth he had cut.
Samantha gasped at the water, which was probably really cold and almost instantly started to shiver despite how warm it still was within the room.
The smell of wet wool hit the air as Jimmy repeatedly plunged the square into the bucket, and then roughly ran it over Samantha’s bare skin, his hand pressing so hard that the fabric left red scratches up and down her pale flesh.
Megan got a chill when he scrubbed Samantha’s groin, her mind thinking he would probably drop pants and start fucking her, but that didn’t happen. Still, she didn’t want him touching her like that - no way - and would do whatever she could to prevent it.
Samantha’s cleansing ended eventually, her naked body completely raw looking from the wool as it dangled from the ropes.
Jimmy put the square back in the bucket and came toward Megan.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Megan said.
Jimmy stared at her for a second and then said, “You don’t want to push me right now, I’m not in the mood.”
“And you don’t want to touch me right now because I’m not in the mood!”
Jimmy shook his head and grabbed at her pants to undo them, his hand struggling with her jeans as she twisted and turned. The quick movements hurt her wrists, but the pain was worth it given the satisfaction she gained by making things difficult for him.
Without warning Jimmy grabbed her throat and squeezed.
Megan tried to breath, but nothing got through and she gagged.
“Stop fighting me!” Jimmy ordered and then let go.
Megan gasped, but then twisted away again when he tried to undo her pants.
“God dammit!” Jimmy shouted at her. “Stop!”
“No!” Megan shouted back. She then spit on him with all the force she could muster.
Jimmy’s hand came out of nowhere and smashed into the side of her face.
Tears sprang to her eyes and her busted lip quivered at the blow, but the resistance did not stop.
Jimmy struck her again.
Megan still didn’t stop even though parts of her mind were pleading with her to do so.
“Fine!” Jimmy snapped and grabbed the bucket of water.
Megan saw what was coming and quickly tried to shift herself out of the way, but couldn’t, and caught the splash full force, her eyes closing at the last second as the water came at her.
“Ahhhh,” she gasped at the coldness. She then felt her body being lifted into the air just like Samantha’s had been, only this time it didn’t stop until her feet were once again several inches off the floor.
“I don’t know why you fight me like this,” Jimmy said. “You always lose in the end.”
Megan didn’t reply.
Jimmy undid his belt.
Megan had an idea what was coming and braced herself.
“I told you that from now on I will punish Samantha if you act out,” Jimmy said. “First I shall show you what it feels like to be whipped.”
Jimmy disappeared behind her.
A second later the belt snapped across her wet back, the thin fabric of her shirt offering no protection whatsoever.
Don’t scream!
Megan bit down hard, her teeth trying to lock in place.
Jimmy hit her again.
The only sound that echoed was the leather snapping across her back.
Jimmy hit her again, and again, and again.
Megan just barely managed to stay silent this time.
The next blow was the hardest of all, one that she knew Jimmy used all his strength on. Not screaming once the leather landed was impossible, especially when the tip wrapped around her body and snapped into her breast.
Jimmy hit her five more times after that, his arm holding nothing back with each blow, the leather cracking as it cut into her and causing her body to sway in the air.
“Please stop!” Megan cried, tears running down her checks.
Jimmy paused for a moment and then came around and wrapped the belt around her throat and pulled.
Megan couldn’t breathe at all.
“I could do this all night and would if you two didn’t smell so bad. Tomorrow morning I’m going to clean you with soap whether you like it or not and then will whip you again just so you remember how it feels. Samantha too.”
He let go and she struggled for air, her violent gasps completely audible.
Jimmy gave Samantha five good strikes after that, each one causing her to scream, and then let her shirt fall back down over her body, one which wasn’t completely soaked like Megan’s clothes were.
He then let her down so that she was on her knees. The position would still be incredibly painful, but nowhere near as bad as hanging from the wrists, or even standing.
Please let me down too, Megan said to herself, her body already starting to shiver with the cold wet clothes. Please.
Jimmy did let her down enough so that her toes could support her weight a bit; though she was sure it wasn’t a result of her thoughts.
* * *
Jimmy looked at the torn fingernail on his left hand in what was left of the sunlight in the Hood’s yard and grimaced. The nail had gotten caught on Megan’s pants while she had been twisting away from him, either on the button or the zipper, and before he even realized it the nail had ripped.
At first the rip didn’t hurt all that much since the nail itself didn’t have any nerves, but then as the air started touching the sensitive skin beneath, and as the area near the cuticle realized the nail had split down into the root, the pain arrived and it was bad. Anger followed but it did little to mask the throb pulsating from the middle finger.
Had it been his right hand he wouldn’t have been able to do much more in the fallout shelter, but since it wasn’t he still had been able to whip Megan. The actions weren’t pleasurable though which is why he hadn’t gone all out. Instead it had felt like a necessary task, one which he had wanted to finish quickly so he could head home and tend to his finger.
Most of my visits feel like necessary task, Jimmy realized. Almost as if they are pets that I no longer want but need to take care of.
It was frustrating. His fantasies had never detailed any of this stuff. Instead he had always seen the girls hanging from their wrists and doing whatever he ordered them to do, their minds too weak and scared to even consider the possibility of disobeying him.
Go back in, cut off her cloths, and leave her hanging naked all night.
Jimmy considered this for a long time but ultimately vetoed the idea, mostly because it seemed like too much of a hassle at the moment. He also had never really cared much for nudity. It seemed boring. He would much rather force her into some humiliating fetish outfit and leave her there. That wasn’t a possibility either.
Still, you should have done something more.
Tomorrow morning he would punish her, that is, if he wasn’t too tired after cleaning them again.
&nbs
p; He took another look at his finger and then headed into the woods to get his bike. Once that was in hand he started walking toward the street and was just exiting the yard when a sheriff deputy cruiser drove by.
He froze.
The cruiser continued forward for several feet and then came to a halt.
Run!
The impulse was strong, but he didn’t give in to it, his eyes having seen enough real life police shows to know such action was foolish. Instead he stood his ground as if he had done nothing wrong and waited for the deputy to back up.
A second later he was face to face with Deputy Paul Widgeon who just happened to be the youngest law enforcement official with the Sheriff Department, one who had been honorably discharged from the military two years earlier after serving three combat tours. The guy was a town hero, one who everyone had welcomed home after his military discharge with a huge barbecue behind the Mayor’s Office. It had been fun.
“Hey Jimmy,” Paul said. “What are you doing out and about?”
“Just riding my bike,” Jimmy said. His heart was racing even though he knew Paul well. When he and Alan had been younger and Paul in high school the guy would help them organize games of capture the flag in the woods.
“Looks more like you’re walking your bike.”
“Yeah, that’s because I fell,” Jimmy said. He held up his finger. “Look.”
“Ouch,” Paul said. “Let me get the first aid kit and fix that up for you.”
“Oh don’t worry about it; I know you guys are busy. I’ll just clean it at home.”
“Nonsense.” Paul popped the trunk and got out, the limp he had came home with from the war just barely visible thanks to all the hours he spent conditioning it. “I’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”
Jimmy sighed. This was the last thing he wanted or needed, especially this close to the fallout shelter.
“You’ve been riding your bike quite a bit I hear,” Paul said. “Trying to get in shape for something?”
Jimmy shrugged. “More like I’m really restless and am not sure what I want to do now that school is pretty much over. I’ll be graduating soon and have no plans really.”
“I know what you mean.” He took hold of Jimmy’s hand and looked at the finger. “Ah, not too bad. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch though I bet.”
“It does.”
Paul gently touched the uplifted part of fingernail. “I’ll have to cut this part off completely,” he said. “It’ll hurt for a moment, but will feel much better once everything is bandaged up, okay?”
“Um . . . okay,” Jimmy said.
He watched while Paul pulled out a small pair of scissors from the First Aid Kit and got them positioned to cut away the torn part of nail.
“Hold still,” Paul ordered.
Jimmy did.
The first cut wasn’t so bad, but then the scissors pressed into the nail bed and everything went white hot and it was all Jimmy could do not to jerk his hand away. Thankfully it didn’t last long. Two quick snips and the flipped up part of torn nail that would have snagged on everything was gone.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Paul said.
Jimmy glared at him.
“Let me just wrap that up and you’ll be on your way.” Paul started wrapping the finger. “By the way, any idea what could have happened to those two girls?”
“What?”
“You’ve been riding your bike so much I wondered if maybe you saw something,” Paul said. His hands pressed down hard on Jimmy’s finger with the gauze so that it wouldn’t slip free.
“Yeah, but I never saw anything and I heard they were taken when they were walking home from school, so me and Alan probably weren’t even home yet.”
“That’s the theory at least. The last place anyone ever saw the two was at school so we assume they were taken while walking home.” He paused to tear a strip of white tape. “This is the road they would have been taken on; at least, this is the road Samantha King should have been walking home on. Did you know that?”
Jimmy was going to say no but then realized that couldn’t possibly be true given all the talk at school and instead said, “Yeah, I’d heard that.”
“What I can’t figure it who would do such a thing?” Paul asked. “If it had just been Samantha King then I could see someone just coming into town and grabbing the first girl he saw. But you’d think they would leave town right away, not stay around and grab another girl. Too risky, don’t you think?”
Jimmy nodded.
“That’s why I believe it’s someone in town.”
“But who?” Jimmy asked.
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Who could do something like this? Makes you wonder what goes on behind closed doors.”
“Yeah, ahhh!”
“Sorry, had to press the tape down into it so it sticks.”
“Wasn’t expecting it,” Jimmy said.
“The gauze pad is medicated too so you don’t have to worry about disinfecting it, just make sure you take everything off in a day or two and put on a fresh bandage.”
“Okay.”
“And be careful. I know you say you didn’t see anything, but you might not realize you did see something and the person or persons responsible for all this might come after you.”
“Okay,” Jimmy said again.
“In fact, maybe it would be better if you rode on the other side of town since this area seems to be the focal point of everything.”
“I really like this area though.”
“Suit yourself, just be cautious. I don’t want anyone else to disappear or get hurt.”
“I appreciate that and will be extra careful.” You have no idea just how careful I will be.
“Great. Can you make it home from here or do you need a ride back?”
Jimmy didn’t want to get into the car. “I’m fine.” To prove it he jumped up onto the bike. “See.” He tried not to show how much his finger hurt when gripping the handle, but had a feeling he didn’t do a very good job because it hurt like hell.
“I see,” Paul said. “Be safe.”
Jimmy wanted to ask him if they had any suspects but figured that would be too much at the moment and simply started riding home.
Paul followed for a while, but then turned at the next intersection.
Jimmy sighed. He had had enough close calls at the Hood place for a while. Hopefully his trips there would be uneventful from this point on.
* * *
Deputy Paul Widgeon followed Jimmy Hawthorn on his bike until the first intersection and then made a right turn at Elm as if he were planning on patrolling another area, but really was just using the road to wrap around to the left, the three way intersection half a mile down making this possible, one which eventually connected back to the road the Hood place was on.
Paul slowed the vehicle as it came upon a turn off that dead ended into a cul-de-sac five houses down, the house to the right of the center being the King household. Like all the houses along the right side of this road their home backed up into the woods, ones that didn’t end until they came upon the farm fields a few miles away. The houses on the left also backed up into the woods, but those stretches eventually opened up into other backyards on the north side of town, properties that gradually got bigger and bigger as they headed south toward the Hood place.
After a moment Paul continued his journey back to the Hood house, his eyes noting the last house before their property began about half a mile from the actual home. The land had been in the Hood family a long time and a decade earlier it could have made them rich beyond their wildest dreams if they had sold it to developers. Now no one would buy it, the last new house having been built back when Paul was in Iraq, back before Wall Street had gone into its first nosedive.
Jimmy, what were you doing out here? Paul asked himself while pulling up alongside the Hood’s crumbling driveway. What were you hiding from me?
Jimmy’s story about falling off his bike had been bullshit because finger
nails wouldn’t tear outward when impacting the ground from a fall. Plus he had had no other wounds on his body, not fresh ones anyway, and if he truly had taken all the impact of a fall on his hand like that, the broken fingernail would have been the least of his pains. Nothing had been broken though, a fact made obvious by the way Paul had been able to twist his hand back and forth while bandaging it. It also hadn’t been swollen. So now the question was what had Jimmy been doing that would leave him with a torn finger?
No answer would arrive without a little investigating, so he got out and walked around. He was pretty sure that whatever had happened to Jimmy’s finger had happened on this property because why come here after the fact - unless he had been going home from the school and took the old wooded path. Of course such a situation would bring up two more questions the first being what would he had been doing at the school after hours, the second being why he would head home on this path when taking the sidewalk provided to him would be much faster.
Could he have snagged his finger while riding, which is why there were no other injuries?
Paul asked himself this while in the backyard, his eyes looking at the thick brush everywhere. If one were cutting though that on their bike it would be possible to get a stick caught up under the fingernail and rip it outward, but then why lie about falling?
And why was he out in the woods to begin with?
He knew Jimmy had been riding his bike a lot. He had witnessed it a few times this past week, and others had as well, most concerned by the very idea Paul had planted in Jimmy’s head about him being a target in case he had seen something he didn’t realize. Paul, however also wondered if Jimmy could have had anything to do with the two girls having disappeared. Most in the department didn’t think a high school student could be behind something like that, but Paul knew differently. Paul had been overseas and had seen what people his age were capable off. Hell, Jimmy was eighteen and that had been the age Paul had been the first time he had ever killed someone, his eyes fascinated by the damage the grenade had done in the room where the insurgent had been waiting.
If another girl is reported missing this evening maybe . . . an image of a fingernail being ripped in a struggle filled his head.
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