Beautiful Torture

by C. P. Mandara

  "Let's see how talented you are, Harper," I say, playing to my audience. "Let's see just how much you can take." Grabbing each side of her head in my hands I plunge hard, counting as I go. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. This is a little game, and she'll figure it out soon enough. Giving her a chance to breathe I then repeat the game, but this time I double the number. When I release her she splutters like mad, and begins to tremble all over. That's odd. Perhaps she's played this before, or maybe she can already see what's coming just around the corner.

  The next time I fuck her throat to the count of forty, without letting her come up for air. By the time I've pulled out her face is ashen. She knows what's coming next.

  "Think you can hold your breath for a minute and twenty?" She's not got much of a choice, but hey, that's not my problem.

  "Please don't do this," she stutters miserably. Fear has taken hold and damned if it doesn't look good on her.

  "You know how to get yourself out of this mess. Anytime you want to press the escape button, all you have to do is say." My voice is mocking. We both know she won't pull the escape cord.

  She shakes her head. We are doing this. Praise the lord. Hallelujah. I give her one last chance to talk, for Brandt's sake, but she doesn't say another word. She's concentrating on taking in as much oxygen as she can, and I can't say I blame her. This next part is going to be tough - for her. I, on the other hand, am going to enjoy it immensely.

  "No last words then?" I taunt her, with my cock tracing a wet, sticky path around her lips. This is purely for Brandt. I suspect he's jealous as hell watching this play out, and I don't know what I'm hoping to achieve, but I know it's something dramatic. I want a reaction. I either want his lips on mine, trying to take my face off, or I want his hands around my throat trying to kill me. Either will do because it means that he still cares. It's his general indifference that I can't stand.

  Twisting Harper's hair sideways, so Brandt can get a better view of us, I cup her face in my hands. I then kiss the top of her head gently, purely to put fire inside the loins of the bloke on the stairs, and then I shove my cock home where it belongs.

  Attempting to count while you're trying your hardest not to come is quite a challenging experience. I'm not sure I'm going to make it to eighty, but I'm going to try my best. I'm enjoying myself far too much to just let go and shoot at the earliest opportunity. I need to drag this out and get Brandt's attention. If I don't get it this time, I'll almost certainly get it on my next turn.

  Poor Harper is looking almost green by the time I reach sixty. I'm slamming my slug home as fast as I can, and she's taking it like a trooper. There's no question she's done this before. This little slut knows exactly what she's doing, and if I'm not careful I'm going to blow. Thankfully, just like her, I've had a little practise too. I know how to drag this out, and even though in this instance I don't want to, I will, even if it is just to torment Brandt.

  When we get to eighty I pull back and Harper sways forward, gasping painfully for breath. I catch her before she falls, knowing she is light-headed because of the lack of oxygen in her system. She's not going to make the next one, and we both know it.

  Holding her against my waist, while I wait for her to recover, I wink at Brandt. I think we have this one in the bag.

  "Want to talk yet, Harper?" My voice is once again mocking. It isn't really a question. It's a statement. She can't take another round, and unless the girl is completely stupid she'll call a halt to this now. I can feel Brandt's eyes on us from the side-lines. He's been waiting for this speech for five years, so I suspect he's quite anxious to hear what she's got to say.

  She doesn't say anything for a moment, and I wonder if she's still trying to catch her breath. When I bend down to peel her head away from my body, the look on her face is one of abject misery.

  "Do you have something to say?" I ask again. All eyes are on her as we wait for her answer.

  Her head then dips towards the floor as she says, "No." I can barely hear it, but I know damn well it isn't a 'yes'.

  "No?" I repeat, astounded. I want to make damn sure I heard that right. Tilting her face upwards with my finger, I watch her expression carefully.

  "No," she says a little louder. There is no defiance there. She's not angry, she's just resigned to her fate. I can't believe this.

  "You're willing to risk your life to keep hold of the secret?" I want to make sure I understand her reasoning.

  "Yes. I'm willing to risk my life. I'm not willing to risk yours. If you want to kill me, you might as well get it over with." That's my cue to see red. Who does she think she's playing with here?

  "We're both criminals, Harper. Brandt more by association, but you're protecting no one. We can handle ourselves. You can't. No one is coming to save you, sweetheart. Why don't you just get this over with?"

  "No." Now there's defiance. Her head is held high as she keeps my gaze, and her posture is rigid. Fine. Once I've made a threat I always make sure to carry it out, so if she wants to do this the hard way, I'm on board. Brandt might not be, though. I wonder if, by any chance, he's left the key to her cell upstairs. If so, this just might work.

  Chapter 15 - Harper

  When Gabriel's cock enters my mouth for the last time, I try to figure out how much time one-hundred-and-sixty seconds is. It takes me longer than it should. Nothing is working as I would like, and there's probably a reason for that. I eventually work out that if I want to live through this, I'll need to hold my breath for three minutes, or somehow manage a gasp of air in between his lunges into my throat. I already know neither's going to happen, so either Brandt saves me, or they can try to revive me because I'm pretty sure I won't be conscious at the end of it.

  It's one thing to think it, and another entirely to accept it. I don't want to die. I know I haven't got any choice in the matter, but that's the long and short of it. Still, at least this death is preferable to the one Mal would deliver. Perhaps I should thank my lucky stars that these guys are getting me ahead of the game.

  Gabriel's voice sounds in my head as he begins his countdown. I don't want to listen. I know that when he gets past eighty my lungs will feel like they're on fire, and the lights in my head will start to go out. Everything will go fuzzy and grey, and then gradually darker as the pounding continues. Eventually the darkness will win, which is when things won't hurt any more.

  But there is no blocking the sound out. Forty, forty-one, forty-two. The burn has already begun in my chest and is spreading through my body. Radiating outwards from my stomach, the trapped air feels like an inflated balloon in my chest. Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two. How is it that the bastard is as twisted as Mal? They could be fucking brothers. What's the chances of me finding two of the same? Ten to one? One hundred to one? I have no idea, and I don't really give a fuck because I have more important things to worry about. There's yelling and banging now, but I can't make sense of it. My vision is clouding over and my head is swimming with dizziness. Gabriel must be holding me up because I'd be in a heap on the floor otherwise. I'm not even going to make it as far as I did last time. The stress of this whole ordeal has finally crept up with me. Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three. My head flops forward, but Gabriel slaps it and I have no choice but to spring back into the land of the living. It won't be for long, though. I. Can't. Breathe.

  "Get off her now, you animal!"

  All of a sudden my mouth is freed with a sucking pop and I crumple to the floor. For a moment I can't make sense of anything happening around me. All sound is muffled and my vision is blurred. I lay there, on the floor, gasping for air as my lungs take their time to re-inflate. It's a painful business, and it takes a while before I can concentrate on anything else. When I do manage to get myself firmly back into the land of the living, all sorts of nastiness is going on.

  "If you kill her I'll kill you!" This comes from Brandt. When I flip my head over to the side to watch what's happening I can see he's got his hands around Gabriel's n
eck and he's about ten centimetres up in the air, being shaking from side to side. I'd like to say I felt sorry for him, but that would be a big fat lie.

  "If you're serious about learning the truth," Gabriel croaks, "you'll need to fight fire with fire. Otherwise you may as well just let her go now. Since when have you gone soft? You never used to be such a pussy. You've only been out a week, and already you're forgetting everything you learnt." Gabriel doesn't appear to be worried about Brandt killing him, judging by the insults being flung around.

  "I'm not letting you do that to her. No matter what she's done, she doesn't deserve that. You'll have to think of another way." Brandt lowers Gabriel to the floor, but doesn't release him. The body language between the pair is insane. It's almost as if Brandt doesn't want to let go. It's almost as if...

  Gabriel moves his head forward a quarter of an inch and licks his lips. I think he's hoping Brandt will close the distance and kiss him. There's an awkward pause where I wonder the same. Do these two still care for each other? I can't decide. Even though Brandt's got Gabriel by the scruff of the neck there is no fear in his eyes. He's not worried that a fist is going to come his way, like any other man in his position would be. Brandt then pulls his own head back and drops him like a hot potato.

  "You still care about me. Admit it," Gabriel says, and I swear the man almost pouts.

  Brandt looks ready to kill him. "Fuck you," he snaps. There's definitely bad blood between them. I wonder who's been cheating on who? Actually, I don't. I know who's been cheating, and it isn't Brandt. I wonder where this is going. Brandt's face is now completely devoid of emotion. Gabriel is wasting his time. Brandt's moved on, and the train has long since left the station.

  "Everybody's allowed to make one mistake, Brandt," Gabriel whines petulantly.

  "Yep, I agree, but nobody has to stand around while they go make mistakes two, three, and four."

  Oh great. I've just had a near death experience and now I'm about to witness a male catfight. Can my life get any better? Yay. I wonder if they left the cell door open?

  "That's unfair. I only made the one mistake."

  I begin inching towards the door. There's no way they're paying any attention to me at the moment. I should be able to slip away relatively easily while they're taking more shots at each other than an average bottle of tequila holds.

  "Don't even think of going for that door, Harper, or I swear I'll throw you to the wolves, and by that I mean Gabriel."

  I let out a huff of air. Brandt must have eyes in the back of his head. Mind you, where am I going to go? We've been down that avenue before.

  Feeling a long line of drool and god knows what else drop off my chin, I examine the puddle on the floor in disgust. I must look an absolute state. Shaking my head, I sigh; who cares what I look like? It's not as if I'm trying to impress these idiots. But I still need to get away. They can't be here when Mal comes looking. I can't have any more collateral damage in my life.

  Brandt must be able to read my mind because he walks to the door and slams it shut. I hear it click into place, so I know it's locked. I'm not getting out unless I intend to go through his pockets searching for the key, and that isn't an option.

  "Why don't you throw her this way, Brandt? Why are you protecting her? Don't you want to find out the truth?" Gabriel is once again up close and personal in Brandt's space, and the two are facing off like wild animals - the big scary kind.

  "You know I do, but I don't want to kill her." Brandt places both hands against his chest and pushes him away. It's obvious he wants to keep his distance, yet Gabriel keeps up the pressure.

  "You are becoming a pussy. I'd wager you'd rather I hurt you, than lay a finger on your precious little princess. Isn't that right? You're the only one who's allowed to touch, Harper. Tell me I'm wrong." Brandt doesn't answer but I can see his gaze drawn down to those beautiful abs, his mouth as he bites his bottom lip, and the swift shake of his head as he tries to get rid of the spell that surrounds him. I know, because I've been there. Even now, after the monstrous blowjob, I'm not entirely averse to the idea of sleeping with the prick which just goes to show how fucked up my hormones are.

  "You want me, Brandt. I know you want me. Why won't you just admit it? Why does this always have to go down the hard way?" Gabriel's voice is deadly in its hushed undertones, and Brandt's back instantly stiffens.

  "Don't you even think about it," he hisses. While I have no idea what they're talking about, I have a feeling that something unpleasant is about to happen. Hopefully it won't be to me this time, but there are no guarantees.

  Sure enough, the pair begin to circle each other like the predators they are, and Brandt flexes his fingers in preparation for a fight. Oh Jesus. This is the last thing I need. If Brandt somehow gets knocked out, I'm dead.

  Shuffling back against the wall I try to figure out who's the more experienced fighter between them. My face drops. It's got to be Gabriel. Brandt's not a street rat. His parents would have coddled him in every aspect of his life. While he might have learned a thing or two in prison, he's not a seasoned pro. I'll bet Gabriel's been doing this shit for most of his life. He reminds me of Mal. He's quick, sneaky, ruthless and unpredictable. That pretty much means he's a wild card.

  "Unghh." The first person to throw a punch is Gabriel, and he hits Brandt square in the stomach. I know it hurts because the look on Brandt's face is pained but he doesn't double over. Instead he retaliates with an uppercut, but he's not fast enough as Gabriel simply ducks to the side. Gabriel then unleashes a volley of kicks and punches that look carefully orchestrated and placed to do maximum damage. This guy has to be trained in martial arts. I know I'm not an expert, but he's too neat and far too precise. When they keep coming, and Brandt hasn't gotten a fist or foot to connect with anything in ages, I start saying my prayers. If I wasn't doomed before, I am now.

  "You know you can't win, Browning. Why don't you just give up now, pretty boy?"

  Brandt, who's looking slightly worse for wear with a split lip and bleeding nose, does no such thing.

  "I'm not letting you kill her. If you do that you'll be dead to me. Do you understand? I know an eye for an eye works in your world, but that's not how we do things in mine. Promise me, Gabriel. Promise me you won't touch her."

  Gabriel takes to the air with his feet in response, and I can hear them connect with Brandt's bones in sickening thuds and cracks. As they move towards me, having almost forgotten I'm here, my eyes widen and I shuffle sideways towards the bed. The last thing I want to do is get in their way. I've been a punching bag for Alex too many times in my life. I can't go through that again. Cowering against the metal frame, getting ready to dive underneath it, I watch the sickening display of testosterone with barely disguised horror. There's no way Brandt can win this fight. That's abundantly clear from the amount of damage he's taking.

  "Stop. Stop!" I scream. No one hears me. They're too focused on trying to take chunks out of each other. I can't bear it any longer. Diving under the bedframe I begin rocking back and forth. Both Brandt and Gabriel are lost in their little world, and I am lost in mine.

  The surrounding violence triggers memories. This time I'm back in Mal's little apartment at the back of his warehouse and we are not alone. Waiting for Mal to finish 'his business', as it were, I'm dressed in nothing more than a skimpy basque and thigh-high stockings. Now when I get summoned, I get requests. Today I've been asked to come in this get up and I can't help but wonder what kind of mess Alex has got himself into.

  I know Alex doesn't like this arrangement. He doesn't mind sharing me, mostly because it seriously messes with my head, but he doesn't like long-term sharing; the kind where relationships can form. Alex is a very jealous man and the current arrangement I have with Mal, where I visit him every weekend, is tearing him apart. I can see it in his eyes, I can hear it in his voice, and most importantly, I can feel it in his fists when he takes out his anger on me. We are sleeping together less, and while that's a good thi
ng, it's also a bad thing because he has no way to let off steam. He's constantly imagining what Mal and I are doing in bed, and this is made worse by the requests for sexy lingerie, amongst other things, that come directly via his phone. Mal is marking his territory and rubbing Alex's face in it, mostly because he knows there's no way Alex can retaliate. They're rival dealers, but Mal's empire is far bigger than Alex's and he has a lot more manpower behind him. Alex isn't stupid. He can't kill Mal, and even if he could, he'd be dead shortly after. He's got no choice but to watch me follow instructions, while we both hope Mal will get bored with the pairing very shortly. Actually, I'm not sure who's more anxious for it to be over, me or Alex, and that's saying something.

  There are sounds of screaming coming from the warehouse, and they've been going on for quite a while. I don't open the door to watch what's unfolding. I got more than my fair share of that when I had to walk the short distance to this tiny apartment. By the looks of things, some bloke has really pissed Mal off because he was tied naked to a chair in the middle of the warehouse floor. That was enough to tell me to walk quickly, but I didn't walk quickly enough.

  Mal was waving some kind of small tube about, his eyes sparkling with glee. An educated guess says it was superglue. This is because the naked man had one eye which appeared to be glued shut, while Mal had begun to work on the other.

  "Not my eyes man, anything but my eyes!" was being screamed at the top of the naked man's lungs as Mal layered his eyelashes with copious amount of glue. That was the first time I decided there was no way I could ever cross Mal. The second came about ten seconds afterwards with his next sentence.

  "It's better this way," Mal rasps, "because you really don't want to know when I'm about to smash your testicles in two with a sledgehammer."