“Queenhearts wins again. One thousand dollars—no lube!” he calls out, moving behind me.
The thick dildo on the rod behind my ass is pressed between my cheeks. An electric fucking machine. No lube.
I begin to fight, twisting and turning, tugging. Ignoring the pain bursting through every muscle, I wage a war against my binds.
And fail.
His hands pry open my ass cheeks.
I’m splitting in two, being ripped apart. I can’t hold back the sob as the dildo lodges completely inside me. Fire erupts, my vision blacks out, but I’m not given a moment to adjust or absorb it. The machine is turned on, and I’m being fucked by it from behind.
No! NO! NO! I can’t stand it. I won’t survive this. Being prodded and beaten bruises my mind, but this total violation, this utter degradation, scrapes out my insides. I’ll never be whole again.
Over and over, the dildo goes in and out. No matter how much I struggle, it continues.
The pings get faster.
“They’re loving their KenDoll tonight,” he says, tweaking my still-hard cock.
“Now, for the last part.”
Beardman stands in front of me, gripping my hair until I’m facing his groin. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt and shoves down his dirty jeans.
His short, fat, veiny cock emerges from his pants.
I’m going to kill this fucker.
I’m going to kill him.
Kill him.
Kill him.
Eight
Brian
“So, what happened with the mayor’s daughter?” Cathy asks as I accelerate onto the highway.
“It was the deputy mayor’s daughter,” I correct her with a side glance. “And you want to talk about that now?”
She throws her foot over her knee. “We have at least twenty minutes till we get there, and I could use the distraction.”
I get what she means. We aren’t exactly headed toward tea with the queen. We may not know what we’ll find when we get there, but we know it’s going to keep us up at night for months.
“Ella Romero was seventeen. She told me she was twenty-one, and she looked every bit of it. We were at a bar for shit’s sake.” I curse at the slowpoke in front of me and merge to pass. “With all her makeup and the outfit she had on, I swear, she looked of age.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.” She puts her hands up in the air. “I made Sarah change her clothes more than once when she was in high school. I can’t tell you how many Saturday nights that girl was trying to walk out of my house looking like she just graduated college.”
“Exactly.” I point a finger. “Well, she was all over me—you know how it is.”
She gives me a hard eyeroll. “Yeah, I know, you’re a big stud.”
“Right. So, we had a few drinks, then she asked if I could drive her home. Her friends had partnered up for the night. I’m not leaving anyone stranded, so I said sure.”
“Hoping by drive her home she means do the horizontal hustle in her bed.”
I shoot her an incredulous look. “Who the hell talks that way?” I laugh.
She waves a hand. “Never mind. Go on.”
“Any changes from Todd?” I ask, gesturing toward her phone in her lap.
“No. Still the same place. Now, go on.”
She must really need the distraction. This story circulated the station for a month. No way she hasn’t already heard it.
“So, I drove her home.”
“And?” she presses.
“And her fucking father comes out of the house waving his damn hands in the air yelling about where the hell she’d been. And then he saw me in the car.”
“And your lovable face is so memorable,” she adds.
“Yes. He recognized me. And when he smelled the liquor on her breath, he didn’t even bother to listen to anything I said. It didn’t matter that she looked at least twenty-three. She was seventeen, and my career was in the shitter.”
“Yeah, that’d do it. You’re lucky he didn’t take your badge for serving a minor.”
“I didn’t buy her a single drink. She had a tab going at the bar with her daddy’s credit card. Stupid girl.”
Cathy snorts. A shitty story doesn’t deserve much laughter. Especially since she’s probably off on a European cruise for spring break while I’m paying the penance for Ella’s life decisions.
“Okay, take the next exit.” Cathy straightens up in her seat. “It’s a mile and a half from the exit.”
“In a residential area?” Could these assclowns be so bold as to use a house in the middle of suburbia?
“No, industrial.” She opens her screen wider. “Looks like warehouses, office buildings, that sort of thing.”
“Any word from Pierce?”
“Not a peep. Maybe he decided to go without us,” she says.
I take the exit faster than the recommended speed limit.
“Go right,” Cathy navigates for me.
“If I was going to have an underground porn ring, this would be the place to do it,” I say as I take another turn. The buildings are rundown, abandoned.
“The airport wants to expand its runways. They’ve bought most of this land already. There are just a few holdouts,” Cathy explains.
“Call Todd and have him track down the owner of the building.” I slow the car to a roll as we pull in front of the blinking dot. “A print shop.” I park the car across the street. “Where the fuck is everyone?” There’s not a cop in sight. The PD should already be here.
“Pierce says backup’s arriving in ten minutes.”
“Fucking hell. You talked to him almost half an hour ago!” A light flickers from the building, and I cut off my headlights.
“Ten minutes isn’t bad. We’ll wait,” she says.
I blow out my frustration. Images of that girl burn into my brain, playing on a fucking loop. The cuts, the bruises…
“That sick fuck had a razor blade, Cathy. He was going to skin her.” I turn off the ignition.
“What are you doing?” she asks, but I’m already out of the car.
Her hurried footsteps trail behind me as I make my way to the main entrance.
“We should wait.”
“They should have been here,” I growl, pulling my gun from my hip as I try the door.
Locked.
’Cause that would make it too easy.
Keeping close to the building and avoiding the high windows, we make our way around to the back. A loading dock with one truck nestled in the bay. I signal for Cathy to follow me to the open truck door. We climb in, and hot air blows into the cargo hold. I cover my mouth with my sleeve as Cathy coughs behind me. The back door is rolled up, giving view to the inside of the warehouse. Bare, dark, except for a single bulb swinging several feet from the truck.
“Brian, I can’t breathe.” Cathy coughs again, tugging on my jacket. We shouldn’t be here. We should have waited.
“I smell fruit loops,” I say, stumbling forward. I shove at her, miss, and go down to my knees. She’s next to me, coughing and muttering.
“What?” I ask, my voice slurred. Or she’s slurred.
Everything’s wavy and moving.
“Are we moving?”
“I’m so…I can’t…” Cathy collapses in front of me, and I bend lower to check on her, but everything’s dark, and my mind slips away from me.
* * *
A hard cough breaks against my ribs, and I wake with a start. Sucking in clean air, I gasp for more.
“Ah, good. Finally fucking awake,” a dark voice chides me.
I blink, trying to clear my vision, but it’s all foggy. My head isn’t any clearer as I focus on the voices.
“Give him another minute. It took a hell of a lot more gas to get him to go down than the girl,” another voice says.
The girl.
Cathy.
I lift my head from the ground.
“Cathy.” My voice is scratchy and hurts my throat.
>
“She’s here, don’t worry,” the first voice says. A sharp smack against flesh draws my attention. We’re in a large room. The walls are white, pristine, but the floor has no coverings. I’m lying on cold concrete, Cathy draped over a bench to my left. She’s naked.
“Cathy!” I try to get to her, but my muscles give out, and I crumble down again.
Muffled cries sound from her direction.
“She can’t talk right now,” the second voice explains, and another smack resounds from him hitting her bare ass.
A deep red welt crosses her ass cheeks, matching on her thighs. Lighter marks trail up and down her thighs and ass. They’ve been beating her.
Rage makes my muscles work. I stumble forward, only to have a boot land in my stomach. I roll to my side, wrapping my arms around my middle.
The cold floor seeps into my skin as I suck in as much air as my body will allow until the pain subsides. Boots scratch along the concrete until they appear before my face.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the first voice says, his tone hard and angry. “You don’t listen to directions though, do you?” He nudges my shoulder with his toe.
I jerk away from him, shaking my head. Whatever they used to knock us out is clogging my thoughts.
“Cathy, are you all right?” I call to her, ignoring the asshole for a minute.
“She’s doing just fine, aren’t you, sweetheart?” the second voice says with so much saccharine, I chance looking at her.
He’s rubbing her head with his hand while smothering her face into his groin.
“You fucker!” I lurch for her, but that fucking boot knocks me down again.
Panicked sounds erupt from behind Cathy’s gag as she strains against the ties holding her down.
“Leave her alone!” I scream, but it comes out garbled. Fuck.
“Let’s go, lover boy.” Strong arms tuck under my pits before I’m hauled to my feet. Pulling forward is useless with the drugs still in my system. I can’t get away from him.
“Bossman, his cock isn’t ready.” Disappointment underlies the second man’s complaint.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” I’m tugged forward, my bare feet scraping against the ground.
Air licks at my skin. All of my skin. My cock lies limp and exposed, just like the rest of me.
Bossman drags me to Cathy and tosses me like a rag doll over her ass. My hands slam onto the bench, and my pelvis hits her beaten ass. The impact makes her squeal.
“Get your cock hard, boy,” Bossman orders, but he might as well have told me to introduce him to God.
“I…no…” I push off the bench, trying to scramble off Cathy as a boot kicks into my ass. My cock lurches between her ass cheeks. I’m limp, but my cock pushes between her ass cheeks, like a smooshed hotdog inside a bun.
She goes rigid beneath me, her ass cheeks clenching around me.
They want me to fuck her.
Oh god.
“Brian!” Cathy cries out as soon as her tormentor rips the gag from her mouth.
“See, now she can scream for you. Get your cock ready.” Electricity zaps my back, and I jump. “Stroke yourself,” he orders, and another shock shoots through me.
“Fuck! Stop!” I turn, but he’s there, zapping and shocking me until I’m finally firm on my feet.
“Go on!” He aims the prod at my stomach, and I twist away just before the shock touches skin.
“Okay!” I put my hand out to ward him off and use my left hand to grab my dick. Nothing is going to wake my cock up, not with Cathy crying and the pain coursing through my body.
“That’s it. Good boy. Once you’re ready, you’re going to fuck her ass.” He moves in front of me, and I finally get a clear view of his face. Round, perfectly round, with fat pushing his eyelids nearly closed.
“I’m not…no!”
“Sure, you are,” the bearded man says in that sweet tone of his. The air burns my lungs.
Bearded man points a gun at Cathy.
“Wait. No.” I jerk my cock, harder, faster. Please! Please get hard!
He smacks her again and again with the knotted rope in his hand, lashing at her back.
“Stop it!” I scramble forward again, and a jolt of electricity burns into my thigh, paralyzing the muscles. “Fuck!”
“Better hurry up,” the bearded man says, pulling the hammer back.
Cathy’s head jerks up at the sound.
“Brian. It’s okay…it’s okay, just do it. It’s okay.” Fear drips from her plea.
My cock starts to react, and I stand behind her.
“Cathy.” I beg for anyone to make this stop. My cock softens again, but I tug harder. I clench my eyes, shutting off the view of her beaten ass. She whimpers softly, and I shake my head, trying to clear it. My heart beats harder. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple. Panic grips my throat, but I jerk harder and harder. A broken sob breaks loose, and it takes a full second for me to realize it’s coming from me. My cock slacks again.
“Go on.” Another shock to my back, and I ball my hands into fists, punching the bench beneath Cathy.
“Brian. Listen.” She sniffles. “It’s okay. Do it. Do what they say.”
I blink back helpless tears. I have a fucking badge. I have a gun. I have a brown belt for fuck’s sake. How is this happening?
Searing electricity bursts across my side. That fucking prod.
“Okay!” I spit on my hand, then work the saliva over my cock.
Cathy’s body stiffens in preparation for the invasion.
“Go on.” He stands behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder. Thick cigar stench covers him, and he hasn’t brushed his teeth in a decade.
I spread her ass cheeks, and her dark ring of muscle clenches.
“Cathy…please…unclench,” I whisper. Make it easy, please god, make this easy. But I haven’t believed in God for years. And my lack of worship is earning a penalty.
She screams as I push through the tight ring, and every muscle in my body stiffens. Fuck!
“Breathe, Cathy. Just breathe.” I try to work her through it, but my spit isn’t nearly enough lubrication. And as far as I know, she hasn’t been with a man in years.
“Go ahead!” The prod strikes again, sending more scorching pain into my side.
I’m forced forward, and my cock shoves past the tight ring of Cathy’s asshole.
The shrill of her scream will never leave my memory.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Huh. Look at that. He actually did it.” The bearded man laughs.
A shot rings out, taking away all sound from the room. I fall backwards onto my ass as blood splatters across my chest. It pools to the ground, and I blink, following the thick crimson trail to the source.
“Cathy!”
Her body is limp over the bench, blood spilling beneath her.
“I did what you wanted!” I scream, scrambling to my feet, slipping on her blood in the process.
Bossman stands over me, a cloth in his hand.
“I know. But we already have a dolly. And now we have a KenDoll. It’s been a while since we’ve had one of those.”
I’m shoved back to the ground as the cloth smothers me until the fog returns and my vision blurs into nothing.
Nine
DOLLY
Another hotdog.
I press my finger into it on the metal tray. Cold.
“You have to eat to keep your strength up,” Ken says to me from his cell.
He’s leaning against the wall, watching me from between the bars. I don’t mind when he stares at me. It’s not creepy and scary like when Beardman and Bossman do it. Because Ken won’t hurt me. He’s always checking on me. When Beardman brings me back to my cell, Ken doesn’t make me tell him what happened. He just tells me to make sure I wash the cuts the next time they bring us some water.
“Did you get one?” I ask, scooting toward the door so I can see into his cell.
“Yeah. I ate it a
lready. It’s your turn.” He points to the tray. “Eat.”
He’s bossy sometimes. Beardman hasn’t taken him upstairs in a few days. He gets bossier the longer they leave him alone. I think he’s trying to come up with a plan.
I pick up the hotdog and take a small bite. My stomach rolls as soon as I swallow it, but I get the rest of it down. As gross as it is, I could eat three more of them if they were on the tray.
“Ken, they haven’t come for you in a few days. That means…” I don’t finish my though. It pulls my heart deeper inside my chest. Every time they take him, he comes back with bigger welts. He’s not giving into them the way he should. He fights them and doesn’t do what they want until they force him.
He’s not as smart as me.
“I know.” He stretches his arms across his chest. “It’s okay. I’m ready.”
“You shouldn’t fight them. They hurt you so bad.”
He levels a stare on me. “The longer they keep me upstairs, the longer you stay down here,” he tells me.
“You don’t have to do that.” I push up to my feet. The concrete is still cold, but they let me keep the dress on the last time they had me in front of the cameras.
“Tell me something you remember from before.” He changes the subject. He told me the more we try to remember about before we were brought here, the stronger our minds will be. Sometimes my mind is clear and I can remember fun things, but a lot of times, I’m in a fog.
“Like what?” I’m not muddled today.
“You still haven’t told me how you got here.”
I frown. “Let’s talk about something else.” I sit on my cot and curl into myself.
“It will help. If you can remember anything about the building, about where you were brought in,” he says. Ken thinks we can escape, but he hasn’t been here as long as I have. He doesn’t understand there’s no way out.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I bury my face in my knees, hugging them closer to me. It’s warmer in my cell than before. Does that mean it’s warmer outside? If I could get a grasp on time, the days wouldn’t feel so endless. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hopeless.
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