by Emma Cole
“Emmett?” I’m nervous about bringing this up, so I don’t even attempt to look at him, “I'm not going to break without you all holding me together. I don't want you to think it's your responsibility to take care of me or that you have to be affectionate just because we're being forced to have sex.” I get quieter as he stiffens next to me, and I brave a glance up. Rex and Braeden are also doing impeccable impersonations of statues. I think they all know something I don’t. Emmett takes a deep breath and then speaks.
“It’s not that I don't or even didn’t want to in the past, hellcat. I just felt it would be over stepping boundaries. And frankly, it wouldn't matter if we weren't having sex, I'd still comfort you.” I’m confused, but I don’t push it.
That is until Brent opens his big fat mouth. I hadn’t realized he was eavesdropping in the kitchen area.
“He’s got the hots for you, smart one. I swear, you’re seriously oblivious, or just in denial about the men around you. It’s not appropriate to cop a feel, even innocently, from your buddy’s girl.” I’m gonna smack him. Maybe I’ll chuck one of those giant dildos at him again. He’s embarrassed Emmett, and that isn't very nice. Maybe I am in denial, but he could have been more tactful.
“Could you be any more of an ass? I swear you like being a prick. It’s fine, Emmett. In the effort for full disclosure, I thought you were hot too. Doesn’t mean I would have acted on it,” I add when I get the stiffy effect going on around me again. “I’m not blind, you guys. Rex, I wouldn’t have cheated on you or anything like that either. Now I’m not saying I wouldn’t have gone for a threesome or two—” I trail off again at the shocked faces. “What?! You can’t really be surprised by that. You have seen what he looks like, right?” I’m talking to Rex directly at the end since he's looking a little grumpy.
“I’m not mad. I’m just thinking that I should have asked a long time ago, and I’m kicking myself for not doing it.” I laugh at that one. I can definitely see him being cranky about missing out.
“Alright, so now that that’s out of the way I’m napping until the other two come back with food.” I shut my awkward mouth and put my head on Emmett’s chest, soon lulled to sleep by his steady, if a tad rapid, heartbeat.
I awake to low male voices again. This is becoming a theme. Without opening my eyes to check, I'm pretty sure it’s Apollo. I’m getting fairly familiar with their voices.
“The exhibition has been moved up. It’s tomorrow night. I’ve left a message for my contact. I just hope he understands it when he receives it. I don’t want to worry any of you, but if this goes south, you’ll be sold tomorrow and separated and shipped out the following morning. I can’t stall that. That’s also if you aren’t claimed by buyers tomorrow night afterwards. The only rule that has to be abided by is all acts must be complete before bidding begins. Even those with prior buyers have to wait for the first options to be given. There’s always a chance that a buyer changes his or her mind, and then the merchandise goes up for auction.” Fully coming awake, the panic sets in; shallow breaths and a rapid heart rate cue Emmett in that I heard the conversation. He takes up rubbing small soothing circles on my back in reassurance.
“Don’t worry, hellcat," he whispers, "we’ll make it out. We have trackers to implant for all of us tonight. In case we get separated we’ll be able to find everyone. No matter what, stay safe and cooperate. We'll come for you." Worry sits heavily in his tone.
Tipping my head back to peek up at him, I find him gazing down at me with a furrow between his eyes. "No checking out on us, alright? You're a fighter, don't give up now." He speaks too quietly for the others to notice. This is only between us.
"I'll try," Is all I can offer him. Making an effort to stay calm, I manage to drift back off. Relatively safe for now.
What I think is a short time later, I wake up. No windows really messes with gauging the time in here. I'm in bed between Emmett and Braeden, and the others are nowhere to be seen. Remembering that the day is moved up, I nudge Emmett. I have an idea, and I'll need him for it.
He bolts up, startled. "Chill, everything's fine." He relaxes, flopping back onto the bed. "Sshhh, geez you're gonna wake Braeden up," I whisper.
"Too late, Braeden is already awake," the man in question interjects.
"Fine, whatever. I have an idea I think Emmett can help me with. Remember the whips?"
Braeden chuckles while Emmett answers, "How could we forget the whips?"
Rolling my eyes at them, I explain, "I want Emmett to be my cigarette girl. I'll train him as much as possible now, and that'll give us weapons and a reason to have them. It'll be a novelty that, hopefully, no one will question. It can be our last act." I'm optimistic that if things go sideways, I'll be able to defend myself.
Half-baked plan in place, we get up and dressed to go find the others.
Rex is asleep on the couch when we exit the bedroom, but the door to the training room is propped open. At least one of the others is in there. Upon entering the room, my steps freeze; Brent is hovering over Marcus' back which is covered in welts, rent flesh, and in several places, blood. My swift intake of air is enough to alert them that they'd been intruded on. Marcus tries to quickly move off the exam chair he's resting against, but the abrupt move causes him to grunt in pain and one of the plastic strips Brent was using to pop loose, letting the cut bead up and run over with bright red blood. Marcus tries to kick me out, probably not realizing I'm not his only company.
"Lark, out!" What happened to Four?
I snort. "Right, and since when have I listened to your grumpy ass? And what the hell happened to your back?" Before he can answer, I realize we're missing a person. "Where's Apollo?"
Silence ensues for a moment, and I think he's not going to answer. I can feel the heat of the guys from behind me, causing a small shiver to work its way across my skin. Whether it’s from muscle memory of being in this room or the lower temp isn't clear. Probably a combination of both.
"He's in the shower back there." Marcus tips his head toward the nearly seamless door I'd wondered about before. An extra bathroom would have been nice to know about. "Washing the mess off, I'd imagine. As for my back— Apollo happened. Or rather, Robert. He forced Apollo's actions by questioning who was in control— me or him. You should be able to fill in the blanks from there." His matter-of-fact explanation reeks of suppressed anger and pain.
Brent stays silent while curses and jostling happen behind me; the guys are pissed. Braeden stalks toward the hidden bathroom, intent clear in his attitude.
"Braeden, no." I rush to get in front of him.
Apollo chooses that moment to come out, steam escaping from the door around him. Dressed in a pair of gray sweats and barefoot, he's rubbing a towel on his head when he notices his silent audience. A tightening in the corner of his mouth and a short nod are the only signs he gives that he knows what he did was wrong.
Braeden makes no move to follow him as he goes to go check on Marcus. It's a private moment I feel we're all intruding on when Apollo rests his forehead on top of Marcus' head.
To distract the others, I get us back on track to the purpose of our visit to the room. Going to the cupboard where I'd found the whips before, I reach in to select several. Freezing mid motion, I remember that Marcus was most likely up close and personal with one not too long ago. I shake off the hesitation since much worse than a beating can, and has, happened here.
I go over my thoughts again and catch the attention of the others. Even Rex has wandered in now, sleepy face still going on as he heads straight to Apollo and they take up a low conversation.
I do the best I can to instruct Emmett. By the time we're done, he can at least wield it. The last bit of time I use for target practice and a few runs of snapping straws from between his lips. It takes three tries before he didn't flinch backwards. I ignore Rex's muttered, "Damn, that's hot," but the others get on him for it. Apollo worries that it might be too attention garnering with Robert, but ultimately he admits
it's a smart way to defend myself.
With twelve hours until the party begins, Apollo and Marcus herd us all to bed and showers.
Chapter Twenty-One
Game Time
"Why do I have to wear this? I look like a cosplay reject," I complain to Marcus about my outfit. He just gives me a bland look and gestures to himself and the holey metallic shirt and black leather pants. Okay, maybe we all have complaints.
"Come on, Birdie. You're rocking the warrior princess vibe." I roll my eyes at Braeden, trying to stay upbeat, but I still see the worry in his eyes.
Apollo strides into the bedroom, dressed much the same as Marcus. "We're as prepared as we can be. Remember, don't react or draw more attention than necessary." He pauses before delivering his last bit of news. "Our inside contact has disappeared. I took the chance on orchestrating for the video feed to the exhibition rooms to be cut off shortly after it begins. Robert won't want to alert the buyers that anything is amiss by announcing it. And I've sent a message to your handler." He indicates Rex and Emmett. "You all need immediate extraction. I gave him all the information I could send and hope they get here before anyone finds out. It's only a matter of when, not if, it's exposed."
If I wasn't afraid of being out of it, I'd ask for the drugs right about now. I was fucking petrified about our near future. Obviously, there was more to what had happened with Apollo and Marcus than they'd divulged.
Group somber, we all file to the outer door. Out of the corner of my vision I catch Apollo giving Marcus' shoulder an affectionate squeeze and a wry grin. Marcus catches me watching, expression resigned.
"It was a pipe dream to hope we'd make it out. Now our focus is saving you five and as many other Innocents as possible. And inflicting as much damage as we can before we're taken out." Marcus pushes up under my chin to close my mouth, dropping a peck on my lips as he walks past, then squaring his shoulders to face what's coming.
Braeden catches my attention, minutely motioning to our two martyrs. In silent commiseration, we agree they're coming with us too. Won't they be surprised when they realize we won't let them sacrifice themselves?
Walking into the exhibition room, it takes all I've got not to flip out or run right the hell back out. The guys are swallowing hard and averting their eyes too. Marcus and Brent trail a step behind and to Apollo’s sides. They both hold leads to the leather cuffs binding my, Rex, Emmett, and Brade's hands in front of us. We make our way through the exhibits to our own area. The queening stool and pillories and such are one thing, but the piercing station, faux medical set-up, and a contraption resembling an iron maiden give me the shivers. Kitty corner to our spot is a black sheet covered object. I don't even want to know.
A nervous sweat gathers that not even an industrial strength antiperspirant is going to hinder. At least I'll have the excuse of exertion to cover it up soon. We arrive at our area and spread out to go over the positions of equipment and supplies and double check that there hasn't been any tampering. Brent managed to bring in an uncontaminated lubricant under the guise of me being extremely sensitive to the general dosed one that's used to keep the pets compliant. Technically, it's only supposed to be for me, and I'm to be drugged up by injection instead.
We spend a short time with last-minute instructions and are taking our places, along with the other occupants in the room, when Robert enters with an entourage.
A group of men and women head straight for our corner, making me tense up in worry. Several of the men are obviously guards, one in particular I'd prefer not to see again. As they get closer, one of the men is hooded and bound, being led by a guard.
Thankfully, for us, not so much the hooded man, they veer over to the covered contraption.
The big burly man is strapped to a saddle with a bit between his teeth and a halter on, the reins drawn up between his legs and crossed between his buttocks to hold them spread. His legs are bent and bound as well as his arms. His hood is pulled off and blinders put on with a screen in front of his face showing the framework behind him being directed at his ass. He’s panicked and moaning.
His posted on the board for his exhibit is of a guard caught trying out the merchandise and prolapsing a sold girl's anus before she was collected by her owner. The difference in price is being made up by auctioning him to the horse fetish buyers. Apparently their slaves don’t last long, and this is his tryout to see if he can take it. I do a double take when I realize it's the man who was assaulting Emily in the janitor’s closet. But she wasn't prolapsed when I helped clean her up. My face drains of blood as I realize she probably was abused further after Marcus and Apollo left her. I move away to find one of them and demand answers, but HE comes in, and we’re directed to watch. A case is opened, and Robert begins speaking.
“This was specifically made to size with a few embellishments. As you can see, it has a tube for the ejaculate. It’s compared to a high-pressure hose when it empties. It also has three ‘hooks’. Those are going to swell as the ejaculate is expelled before they’re pulled out. Lubrication will be the liquid. A stallion only ruts for about two minutes before it’s done, and there will be three rounds, so everyone has a chance to watch.”
The horse dildo is pulled out and attached to the apparatus that will be doing the penetrating. We all watch with wide eyes as it’s tested. It’s eighteen inches long and three inches in diameter according to Robert. A tube is inserted into the man several inches, and Robert twists something at the base of the dildo to release the hooks. A four-leaf clover looking thing swells out of the tip to twice the width it already was, and the other end of the tube is hooked to it. Two more smaller bulges pop out along the shaft, and a bag is attached to the tube on the back of it.
Another twist and the man squeals around the bit. The tube had been inserted into the man's ass, and within seconds, the bag that contained at least a pint was sprayed into him. The tube is withdrawn from the anus, and lube leaks out, dripping to the floor. The dildo is reset, and more lubrication is rubbed over it. It’s lined up with the man’s ass, and now he’s making unintelligible noises and trying to escape. Not that he can move an inch. I have a feeling this is going to do internal damage and think that’s probably the point.
An example is being made out of him. I don’t want to watch, but I’m afraid to look away with Robert observing. Robert addresses the small crowd once more. “The subject has been minimally stretched. The merchandise he damaged wasn’t even given lubrication, so he should feel lucky. If he survives the night, the highest bid takes him to the farm.” Robert finishes his speech, motioning for the guard doing the operating to begin.
The tip is lined up with the man’s puckered hole, and the machine flipped on. Slowly but steadily, the machine forces the huge rod into the man’s backside until the base is swallowed, and the metal arm follows it an inch or so into the gaping entrance. The man is staring at the screen in horror, now crying. His ass is going to be wrecked. The dildo is removed until the tip slips free, showing the tunnel-like hole left behind. A button is pushed, and a timer pops up. 120 seconds. Suddenly, the machine starts plunging hard and fast, ruthlessly impaling the man’s ass. He’s screaming around the bit, and the timer counts down. At ten seconds to go, it holds deep, and the man gets higher pitched. The hooks must have been released, and the bag begins emptying.
Lube is leaking around the metal rod, and then it starts to withdraw. The man is in a complete panic, and soon I can see why. The first ball passes and pulls on the abused hole. The second comes out larger, and now I can see flesh coming out along the shaft. With the third and final ball, several inches of bright pink insides builds up around a bulge trying to come out before the sphincter gives up, and it comes loose with a gush of fluid and a long prolapsed tube of the man’s ass.
The man passes out directly after, and I see some pink tint to the fluid coming out. Several of the patrons go up to fondle the extruding tissue and poke their fingers in it. Finally, the guard comes with a glove and slowly inse
rts it back into its cavity. You can tell it’s hanging a little loose, and I doubt it will ever go back to what it was.
***
Robert claps his hands sharply, signaling for the exhibition to begin. While everyone had been preoccupied, several more of Robert’s "guests" aka prospective buyers had come into the room. The set up is much the same as the night on the stage had been. Servers for refreshments and pets to pass around.
Our group is third in the line up with Robert doing his spiel about his son Apollo's special project. I’m not sure how much more I can stomach, muffled screams of pain and pleasure permeate the area. It's a hedonistic atmosphere that the sick fucks in charge are getting off on. Literally, in some cases.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Party Crashers
Stomach still churning from the display, Emmett and I take our places with the whips, beginning our sequence like pornographic carnival performers. We'd been nixed on going last as we would be too tired. I snap a paper straw from his mouth, garnering appreciative and interested looks from some of the men watching our part of the show.
Twitching my wrist to make the snake-like tail slither across the floor back to me in preparation for the next strike, I'm interrupted by a percussive booming coming from the entrance Robert had come through.
An air of disquiet runs through the crowd as the commotion continues. Robert has a phone out, lips moving swiftly and thunder written across his face. Pausing, he glances up to our corner, zeroing in on Apollo. Death sits in his eyes. A shiver courses down my spine as he and his entourage of guards start moving our way. The guards are quickly engaged with other issues when an entrance opens up from a wall, allowing people covered head to toe in riot gear to swarm the room. Dull black helmets hide their identities, making it unclear whether they are friend or foe. Regardless, they have guns and are pointing them, demanding everyone get down.
