By Way of Pain: Assassins (Criminal Delights Book 12)

by J. M. Dabney

  I shook my head to clear it of its newest contemplation and stared at the shelves. I'd studied Harrison for years. His obvious enjoyment of food. I knew the ones he savored the most. The scrunch of his face when he only brought a sandwich for lunch. I'd spent a long time peering into the bakery cases. I justified my care in picking his foods as I was charged with his keeping until the time that I saw fit to exterminate him. His comfort was my responsibility.

  Glancing down, I cataloged the contents among the food basics. I'd never took care of anything in my life. My needs were minimal at best. I was probably thinner than was healthy, but eating was an unenjoyable chore. When I received no pleasure from anything, what was the point?

  Irritation moved beneath my skin at the uselessness of my thought process, and I finished the rest of my shopping trip as quickly as possible. The politeness of the cashier made me snarl my nose, and her glance at me made her start packing my purchases quicker. I'd been away from Harrison for nearly ten hours. I'd kept a watch on him over the course of the day. I knew every move he'd made. I'd set up the cameras when I'd dropped off his food before I’d left the house.

  I didn't understand this compulsion to simply watch him. While not classically so, he was a beautiful man. He was handling his captivity well. My second work phone vibrated gently in my pocket, and I paid for my purchases in cash. I was a man who left no more paper trail than necessary. I paid my taxes and made regular deposits, while my other money was sent to offshore accounts for my planned retirement.

  Everything was planned down to the day I would leave this life behind and live anonymously in a country far away. My calculations told me I had another ten years, although I understood I was well past my life expectancy already. My body not only marred by the years of my self-harm, but also wounds of my trade. Knife and bullet wounds, a boss that I'd dispatched long ago in retaliation for attempting to blow me up, I'd literally given him my pound of flesh. Craters of missing pieces marred my side and back.

  The last time I tried to take someone to my bed for a fuck even I could recognize the disgust they thought they hid before I noticed. Too thin and mangled to be pleasing to someone’s eyes. The study of humanity became more interesting than humans themselves.

  We were a demented, cruel people, although there was a minority of our species that seemed worthy of redemption. However, I didn't know many of them, the portion of the species I dealt with daily deserved whatever punishment they received.

  I stowed my purchases in my trunk and leisurely made my way to the driver's side door. As always, I memorized my surroundings and the people that took up a portion of the scenery. I knew when I returned home that I could pick out every detail down to how many breaths a person took. Remembering everything kept me alive.

  Once seated in my car, I checked the message on my secondary phone. Rarely did I receive jobs only a few weeks apart. A month or two would elapse in order for the heat to die down, or in certain cases, for a case to go cold. My service included a cremation of the person, unless my employer used the victim as a warning to enemies. I'd burned my last assignment down to ash and scattered them over a two-mile stretch of gravel road.

  The drive to the park for me to pick up the new job packet took me away from my plans of returning home. I kept to my typical routine of sitting on the bench and staring out over the water. My two personalities warring for dominance. Routine kept me centered. I hadn't taken a life outside of my assignments in years, but my steely control was slipping. Soon I would have to do away with Harrison. I'd make his death quick. Yet he'd cause me to break my rule, no civilian deaths. He's someone who'd be missed even if it was only as a regular who hadn't returned.

  I anticipated the questions that would arise when they realized I hadn't reported my employee missing. Lying was second nature, employees left jobs all the time, and I pushed the thought aside.

  On my way out of the city, I made several wrong turns. When I felt it safe to assume no one was following me, I headed to my cabin. The supplies I'd left him wouldn't last much longer unless he'd decided to conserve them in the event that I wouldn't feed him regularly. He was a big man, but confined as he was, he wouldn't burn the calories he would with regular activity.

  I'd feed my guest and then study the details of the file and start to plan the job. The nuances of the planning stage invigorated me, and it was almost as if it amounted to foreplay. Anticipation building slowly to the climax—the killing. Those were the details I wouldn't rush. The act of killing was the ultimate power. A stranger at my mercy begging for their life. Even through the futility of their pathetic pleas, human nature urged a person to survive.

  How could I give them something that I was unsure I could even feel?

  Mercy, is that what made me spare Harrison's life? Did I feel something deeper than the visceral nature of my preparations to end his life? I was unsure of a lot in my existence lately. Almost four decades of careful study and mimicking the fickleness of human sentiment hadn't readied me for my unwillingness to do away with one useless human.

  Our Earth slowly died with the increase in Global Warming. Crop failures. Malnutrition killing thousands a day. Mother nature was the most prolific serial killer in human history. Humans were no more important than a single speck of sand. Organisms to die out during the next great epoch. None of us were worthy of the space we occupied, yet in our arrogance, we placed ourselves at the top of the food chain. My life was measured in the lives I took and not in the days which passed. I didn't long for the permanence of leaving a legacy behind. As I'd always believed I live on borrowed time. I was nothing more than a loose end that would be tied up in a neat package. Buried in an unmarked grave. A feast for worms. I needed no accolades or a person missing me because it was meaningless when you were alone in the darkness—rotting cell by cell. When my time was up, nothing existed beyond that, and I didn't require some foolish person to mourn when I wasn't worth the emotional expense of bereavement and tears.

  Chapter Eight

  Harrison

  I attempted to twist my body far enough to see the newest damage to my back. While sore it wasn't painful, only a few spots made me scream in agony when they touched the wall, or I rolled onto my back. I'd tried to clean up as best as I could with the freezing water coming from the spigot. The stench of my unwashed body sickened me. Being hairy, I'd always taken great care with myself.

  My captor had left me a tray that consisted of what I could assume were two meals, and there were a few snacks as well. I attempted to count my time there by the trays he left. But what if he didn’t feed me every day? After his lessons, I had a tendency to sleep for hours, maybe a full day. I was so tired afterward that I didn’t know what reality and time were anymore.

  I savored the coffee. My caffeine headache made my head throb as I'd tried to fall asleep. While I was sure he fed me on a regular basis, I'd saved the prepackaged snack bars and fruit just in case. I stowed them away under the edge of my airbed.

  I tried not to think of how long he'd kept me so far, or the fact that he was quite clear that he was going to murder me. He claimed he'd be merciful and make it quick. Yet, what happened if I angered him and he left me to starve to death down here? I was sure I'd read somewhere that a person could live for weeks without food depending on body fat and I had plenty of that. Water was another thing altogether, but unless somehow, he turned off the water to the house, I had a fresh supply to stay hydrated.

  All the cruel things he could do to me played in my head. And I realized I'd watched too many true crime shows. My mind went darker with each scenario. The punishment I'd received confused me though. The praise had thrown me off, and I had yet to recover. His body hadn't responded to the pain he’d inflicted, but hadn't he clearly told me that all he wanted was my pain? I assumed he’d force me at some point. Although after whipping me, he hadn’t seemed to react at all to what he’d done.

  I stiffened in my crouch as I hugged the thermos to my chest as footsteps echoed
on the floor above. The few sips of coffee that remained were for later. I followed his movements from what I assumed was one room to the next, staring at the spots where he briefly paused. A shiver worked through me, and I promptly wondered if he would give me clothes. It perplexed me why a stranger would want to keep me, and I went over the details of his face exposed by his mask, the thinness of his frame, and tried to remember if I knew him somehow.

  The hours I was left alone, I planned an impossible escape. Could I overpower him in some way? I was a big guy but in no way did that mean I could defend myself. As slender as he was, he hadn't appeared to have any issue with controlling me. I knew it was mostly my terror that kept me confined there. I'd almost tried earlier, I spent long moments at the bottom of the stairs and focused on the light beneath the base of the door.

  The only thing I could think was he was up there, waiting for me to make a move and finally give him the excuse to kill me. Silence didn't mean he left the house. All I could do was watch the unbroken line of light. At one point, I'd placed my foot on the bottom step and cringed as it creaked beneath my weight. I'd immediately brought it back to the dirt of the cellar floor.

  In my boredom, I'd carried my lantern around and searched through boxes for items that might have proved useful. The contents were musty and some discolored with mold—no clothes or weapons. I did find a few water-stained romances that appeared to be from the eighties. I'd placed them on the shelf with the books he'd provided. I loved to read but hadn't relaxed enough to attempt to check out what he'd given me.

  Minutes crept by and then I heard water running through the pipes. My stomach began to rumble with the first stirrings of hunger, and I assumed it was around dinnertime. I needed to devise a way to track my time since I'd became conscious. I was still leery if I was still in the city or not. While the windowless room made it impossible, I still thought I should hear some noises. Horns honking in traffic. Loud voices coming from the streets. Yet I heard nothing but silence only broken by the flow of water through pipes, sometimes my heartbeat as it increased with panic as the lantern dimmed.

  Like the food, I didn't want to overuse my only source of light since he removed the overhead bulb each time he left. I was growing weary of worrying and wondered how lost I'd become when my hope disappeared. The locks at the top of the steps clicked, and I used my heels to move me backward until my body pushed flush to the wall. I peeked through the small spaces between the slats of the makeshift storage closet and only saw his outline from the light drifting down the stairs. Clutching the blanket tightly around myself, I jerked as he screwed in the bulb.

  I squinted at the sudden brightness. He looked elegant in all black. It highlighted his slender frame, but my gaze locked on the tray he had balanced on one hand. I never looked away from the food steaming, and I frown as he lowered to place it on the ground.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  I did so hoping that meant he intended to remove my wrist restraints. The tender skin was raw from the constant abrasion of the unforgiving metal. A tiny sound of relief left me as he unlocked first one wrist then the other.

  “Eat.”

  It was a single order, and then he was gone with the empty tray. I didn't hesitate—it was one of my favorite meals. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and I wasn't even going to turn my nose up at the brussel sprouts. All I was given was a spoon. I ignored the movement outside my enclosure as I finished eating. As soon as I took my last bite, he returned, and I backed up to put a safe distance between us.

  He entered my space and gripped my hair. His surprising strength forced me to my feet. I tried to catch the blanket I used to conceal myself, but it fell to the floor. As I was led to the outer room, I noticed the large mat on the floor. A bar of soap, shampoo and a bucket of water sat atop it. He roughly released my hair, and I stumbled, using my hands to cover my crotch. He wore black leather gloves, and he lowered himself to a chair he'd placed nearby.

  “Wash.” His voice was low and harsh.

  I looked into the bucket to find a cup.

  “Boy, I don't like to repeat myself.” He said nothing else, and he was on his feet, he surged across the short space that separated us. With his hand fisted in my hair, he made me bend over. The first slap of his hand shocked me, but the second ruthlessly pulled me out of my surprise. I cried out as he spanked one cheek, then the other, repeating until I was attempting to get away. One minute he punished me and the next I was there bent over with him once more calmly seated.

  “Wash. You definitely don't want me to do it.”

  I started to kneel to wet my hair and body with the cup.

  “No, I want to see every inch of you. Keep your back to me as you bend over to wash your hair.”

  Humiliation caused my body to flush at what he meant. The entire time I washed my hair, I was aware of my ass cheeks on display, my balls hanging low, and I didn't dare look in his direction. I tried to block him out, enjoy the feeling of hair free of sweat and dirt. It took three cups of water to rinse the lather from my wavy hair. I took a deep breath as I used the cup to wet my body. I rubbed the soap between my hands, and the scent was musky and masculine, not some off-brand from the local discount shop.

  I ran my hands over my chest, and just as I was about to stroke my hands lower to take care of my groin, he ordered, “I said I wanted to see. Must I punish you again?”

  “No-no,” I stuttered.

  My ass was sore and on fire, the hot water wasn't soothing the pain. I didn't want another spanking. At least when I had to endure the lashes from his whip, he didn't touch me. I didn't want his hands on me. I quickly turned and scrubbed my cock and balls, taking care not to linger.

  “Slower.”

  I stared at him to find him watching me. His legs crossed and his hands were folded over his lap. I continued to wash and rinse until my front was as clean as I could get it bathing with a cup and bucket. When I turned, I contorted trying to wash as much of my back as I could reach, feeling the welts that remained from my whipping. I soaped my hands again and hesitated when I reached my ass.

  “Bend over, hold your cheeks apart and stay that way until I say so.”

  I did as ordered, but I was so nervous I was in danger of losing my dinner. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, counting each inhale and exhale to eight, then seven. By the time I reached two, I was calmer.

  “Has anyone ever fucked you before, boy?”

  “No.”

  “Use a finger to fuck your ass.”

  I must have paused too long.

  “Must I repeat myself?”

  I thrust a single soapy finger past the tight rim of my hole.

  “Deeper until you find your gland. Then I want you to stroke over it.”

  I swallowed around the returning lump in my throat as I did what he asked. I hated him. I tightened around my finger as a zing of pleasure traveled my spine, and I clenched my thighs. Shame infused my being as my cock painfully hardened in the ungiving metal of the cage.

  “Finish washing. I think we're done with your lesson tonight.”

  I pulled my fingers from my body and rinsed the soap without hesitation. I straightened and shivered as the water began to turn chilly on my body. Suddenly I wished for my blanket. I stepped back as he approached me with a towel. His touch was impersonal as he briskly dried me.

  “You smell like me now.”

  I lifted my gaze to his face as he spoke and the softness of his tone shocked me. His moods shifted so quickly I couldn't keep up. One minute he was humiliating me and the next he almost seemed to care. My arms were pinned to my side as he used the oversized towel to dry my back. His face was so close to mine that his leather-covered cheek nearly brushed mine. The differences in our sizes was noticeable as it appeared that I was a few inches taller than him and fifty pounds heavier. He was lean yet strong.

  “Stay, I have a reward for you.”

  I was dizzy with another shift. He removed the items I used to bat
he and only left the plastic mat I stood on. Why was I just standing there? The door to what looked like the kitchen stood open and I watched him as he moved around the tidy, brightly lit room. If I could knock him off balance, just take him by surprise, I could make a run for it. Yet I just stood there as he ordered. Other than the whipping and spanking, he hadn't made a move to touch me inappropriately since I'd awakened. His body didn't seem to respond at all. The only thing that worried me was the fact that he found no need to assault me sexually. All he wanted was me to suffer, and then he'd kill me.

  Dying wasn't something I wanted, yes, I found my life empty, but I was in no hurry to end it. If I could just do as he asked, maybe when the time came, he wouldn't kill me. I could take the pain. I just had to make sure I kept his interest—no matter what that took.

  Chapter Nine

  Cowen

  When I left the house hours before to make the trip into one of the more exclusive neighborhoods, I analyzed the event from a few days before. While I'd seen Harrison naked, I hadn't taken the time to study him. While he was soft and didn't have an overabundance of muscle, I'd enjoyed the way he looked. My body was naturally devoid of hair except for the sparse hair at the base of my penis. The excessive hair on his chest, ass, and legs was pleasant to look at, and the thick bush around his cock was springy and soft. I remembered the feel of it when I'd secured his chastity device.

  I hadn't planned to touch him when I ordered him to bathe, but I couldn’t allow him to disobey my commands. Spanking him was so different from the times I’d whipped him. His ass soft and shook under the impact of my hand. My hand sank into the lush curves. I shook my head as I brought my attention back to my task at hand.

  It was just my next step of stripping him of his body autonomy. He needed to learn that his body no longer belonged to him—that it was mine alone. Whatever I wanted to do to him was my prerogative. He would submit without thought. What I wanted I'd get, and the sooner he realized that, his life with me would become easier. The last few days, I did nothing more than make sure he was fed.