“Does it hurt?” he asked, the threat of a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.
Sick fuck.
Biting down on her lip, she tried to stay silent, to swallow the whimpers, but when he forced a third finger inside her she cried out. Tears rolling, hands forming fists as her core spasmed, twitched around the invasion.
“You’re going to be such a lovely broken doll. Someone will pay so much to make you cry like this.” He thrust his fingers inside her already bruised and violated flesh. “To hurt you like this. Worse than this.”
“Worse?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. She’d opened her eyes just in time to see his smile spread.
“Oh yes… this was just an introduction. I have so much more to show you.” He slid his fingers from her and the tension fled her muscles as the pain dulled to a throb once more. “Open.”
Beth shook her head, clenching her teeth as he brought his hand towards her mouth. The shine on his fingers made her cringe, whining low in her chest.
“You will learn…” He grabbed her face hard with his other hand, fingers digging into her jaw until he forced it open. Sliding tainted digits over her tongue, she tasted the mix of them, the linger of soap, the hint of copper and salt, just before she gagged as he pushed them too far. “Fighting me only results in punishment for you. Suffering.”
He gagged her again, and her stomach threatened to heave, but he didn’t even flinch as he pressed down on her tongue and forced her mouth wider with his knuckles.
“I will enjoy making you into a thing. Stripping everything from you that you think makes you a person.” Another plunge of his fingers into her throat, wet choking sounds escaping as she tried to deny his words. The inevitability of them.
You won’t win.
You won’t.
“Suck, slut. Clean your mess off my fingers.” He released her jaw, fingers still too far back on her tongue, and she immediately bit down.
His body jerked, but he was fast, responding instantly to her pathetic defiance. Fist buried in her hair as he wrenched her head back, fingers pulled free from her mouth, and then he backhanded her. Wet knuckles popping loudly against her cheek as pain starburst and spread across her face.
Why had she done that? Why, why, why…
“That was very stupid, cunt. Do you know how my customers would handle biting?” He shook her by her hair, somehow still calm, steady gaze burning into her eyes as she tried to fight the tears. “They’d knock each and every one of your pretty white teeth out. Is that what you want?”
“NO!” she shouted, and the fear took over. Sobbing as she twisted in the ropes, the stinging burn a chastisement.
“Beg.”
Shaking, she swallowed the abundance of saliva pooling in her mouth and pleaded. “I’m sorry I bit you, please don’t—” Fear made her hiccup, whining as she clenched her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. “Please not my teeth, I won’t do it again. I’ll never do it again. I swear!”
He released her hair and she heard him walking around the bed, opening her eyes to see him at a cabinet where he slid a drawer open. Closed it. All so calm, so fucking slowly. But the knife in his hand when he turned around made her sob harder. Oh God.
“No, no, no! I’m sorry! I said I was SORRY!”
Walking with that even, measured pace of his, he approached the end of the bed. The knife touched the arch of her foot and she stilled instantly, terrified and gasping, air wheezing in tightening lungs. “You’re going to be so entertaining,” he said softly, almost to himself, and then he raised his eyes to hers. “Don’t move.”
This time there was no urge to be defiant. He slid the sharp edge of the knife under the rope and worked at it until it broke, freeing her ankle. Raw, bright red skin revealed.
He repeated the action at her other ankle but, when she moved her leg, he caught it and snapped her back to the bed, the sharp edge of the knife against her calf. “I told you not to move, slave.”
Beth found herself nodding, but a tiny voice inside her argued. Urged her to fight. To kick him. To hurt him.
She didn’t do anything.
Lying as still as he’d commanded, she pressed her lips together and tried to slow her breathing, to stop the tears as he freed one wrist. His slow walk around the end of the bed made her flinch, because she was keeping her legs open for him, and she knew he was looking between them at the place he’d already hurt her.
This was just an introduction. I have so much more to show you.
As her last limb was cut free, he put a knee on the bed beside her arm, his weight making the bed sink. She flinched as he reached towards her — but then his hand slid under her neck and she heard the click of something metallic.
Why did she keep opening her eyes?
He was there above her, looking down like she was still just a bug pinned to a board for him. Only now the ropes were gone, and she wasn’t moving by choice. She was obeying, and the camera in the ceiling was watching.
“Open your mouth.”
There were a hundred pleas she wanted to say, a thousand questions she wanted to ask. So many whys and useless things. Instead, she opened her fucking mouth.
“Wider.”
She stretched her lips, her aching jaw, and he brought the knife into view. For a nanosecond she started to close her mouth, but his head tilted the tiniest fraction and she stopped. Kept it open, eyes glued to the shining edge of the blade.
“I want to make something clear, so that you don’t misunderstand.” Turning the knife in his fingers, he angled it down and then slid the flat of it over her bottom lip, the sharp point inside her mouth. “I am not merciful. When you are disobedient, you will be punished. Severely.”
A whimper escaped her throat, but as the flat of the blade moved deeper and brushed her tongue — she froze. Pressed her tongue to the floor of her mouth, tears making her eyes sting as the metal stroked back and forth.
“I will let you keep your teeth, but only because you are prettier with them than without them. Worth more.” His other hand lifted, brushing hair off her forehead, unsticking it from the drying tears on her cheeks. “But at some point, I will fuck your throat, and I want you to remember this moment. Think about this knife as I slide my cock into your mouth, and remember that if you ever bite me again, I can do terrible things to you and still leave you pretty on the outside. Blink if you understand.”
She blinked slowly, squeezing her eyes shut before she opened them again.
“Good girl.” Withdrawing the knife with the careful, measured pace he seemed to do everything except fucking, she watched it until he held it above her. Only then did she gasp air into burning lungs, licking her lips, too terrified to move. “Now that you understand, it’s time for your punishment.”
Six
Anthony
Scrolling through her medical file on his phone, Anthony stood next to the cart as other shoppers moved past him. Some glared at him, one woman looked him over, but it was all white noise. The haze of humans existing, the metallic clatter of carts, the beeping of registers. So much white noise. It made it somewhat difficult to focus on the small device in his hands, but then he found what he was looking for.
Memorizing the brand of birth control, he verified that it was monophasic, and then sent the order in. Computers were so much easier than people. Just zeros and ones, and once you understood them you could make them do whatever you wanted. No need to threaten them or slide a knife into their proverbial mouths. They just worked. Every time.
Tucking his phone into his pocket he walked down the aisle, adding items to his cart from the list in his mind. Food for him, and food for her. She wouldn’t actually need to eat for a while, but hunger was an excellent motivator. Still, when he fed her, it would not be from his plate.
That was Marcus’ fetish.
Of course, Marcus had the culinary palate of a street dog. He would eat well when he thought about it, but he’d also seen his brother eat
a package of beef jerky with the same satisfaction as filet mignon with béarnaise sauce.
His phone buzzed repeatedly in his pocket and he answered without looking at the screen. Only one person had this number. “Yes?”
“You started with the cattle prod?” Marcus didn’t even bother with a hello, knowing it was pointless, but his tone was still challenging to dissect. Without other cues to help him along, Anthony couldn’t tell if the intent of the question was positive or negative. Delight or disgust. Yet another reason he avoided the phone.
“I did,” he confirmed needlessly. Clearly, his brother had been watching the recording of the live stream and already knew the answer.
“You haven’t even had her a whole day.”
Glancing at his watch, he noted it had only been about fourteen hours. “Correct.”
“You should’ve let me have her first, this is going to make her more challenging.” A growl and a curse punctuated his statement.
Definitely a negative response.
“How will it be more challenging? Enlighten me.” Coddling Marcus was an exhausting exercise, but one that was required to keep him engaged and productive. Without the opportunity to vent his silly frustrations, his brother’s work quality plummeted. He could sulk like a child for days.
“You started out too strong. All pain, no pleasure. What incentive does she have to respond to you now?”
“Avoiding it,” he clipped, looking around at the milling cattle with their rickety carts creating so much noise that it was unlikely anyone could even hear him. Regardless, it was always wise to be cautious.
“Did she even come when you fucked her?”
“No, but that is where you always make your mistakes. It is not about them, they are nothing.” Anthony sighed when Marcus muttered on the other end of the phone. Worse than having to listen to him speak was having to listen to him when he was incoherent.
At least when the slaves were incoherent, they were usually making pleasant sounds.
“She bled.”
“Yes, I’ve already received several emails asking me to do it again, and in other ways.” Anthony wondered if she would scream as he took her ass. There was a good chance no one had ever fucked her there — such a treat to be the first.
“We don’t make them bleed,” Marcus stated it like there was some book of rules to which they were both held. As if every rule he made Marcus follow was not written by his own hand.
Even the rules on the wall were his.
Everything was, but Marcus forgot that sometimes.
“Sometimes we do. You have become overzealous in the past and done the same.”
“Is that what you were? Overzealous?” His brother tried to mock his tone, mimic him, but there was too much emotion in Marcus to ever succeed in that.
“That is ridiculous, and you know it. Did you want to have a conversation or were you simply calling to replay the events of last night for me?” Bored already with Marcus’ antics, Anthony smiled when he saw the artisan cheese counter was open. At least there was one benefit to shopping on a Saturday morning when people crowded the store.
“I want to talk to you about not fucking up this slave! This is why it takes you almost three fucking months to get anywhere with—” Marcus continued to rant as Anthony held the phone down to his side and approached the counter.
“Hello, sir. Are you interested in trying one of our aged Goudas?” The smiling woman was wearing a black apron, her auburn hair pulled into a high ponytail at the back of her head. Her nametag read: Amanda.
“Yes. Where is it from?” Anthony watched as the woman looked him over with a quick glance before cutting off a slice from the wedge of cheese in front of her.
“Beemster, it’s a Dutch brand. Quite good, aged eighteen months, and it has a sweet finish.” Amanda rattled off her knowledge before handing him the tiny slice on a petite napkin.
“Thank you, just a moment.” Lifting the phone back to his ear, he could hear Marcus muttering curses and insults. “Are you done, Marcus?”
“Where the fuck did you go? Are you at the fucking grocery store?” He was angry, that was an easy emotion to identify but, before he answered, he leaned the cell phone against his shoulder so he could break off a bite of the cheese. It was as delightful as the woman had described.
“This is good,” he acknowledged, and the woman beamed.
“Are you ignoring me, Anthony? What the fuck! Did you leave the girl already?” His shouting was loud enough that Amanda’s eyebrows pulled together slightly, her eyes flicking to the cell phone.
“I’m here, and yes, I needed to get groceries, so I am at the grocery store. Currently, I’m sampling an aged gouda from Beemster, it—”
“I don’t give a FUCK about cheese, Anthony!” Marcus interrupted him, shouting, and Anthony simply sighed as he savored the last bite.
“That is quite clear. One moment.” Holding the phone away from his ear, he turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. “My brother is emotional. I apologize for the interruption. What other cheeses would you recommend?”
“Oh!” For a moment she was flustered, a delicate blush of color coming to her cheeks, and then she leaned down and opened the sliding back of the case. An instant later she lifted out a Comté that he already knew he enjoyed. “This is a French cheese called Comté from Saint Antoine. If you like Gruyère, then I’m sure you’ll enjoy this, it’s one of my absolute favorites. They actually skim it and heat it in copper vats, and when it’s aged it just takes on the best flavor, and I really think you’ll like it if you try it. I mean, if you like cheese.”
The woman was babbling, nervous. He could tell by the slight shaking of her hands as she unwrapped the cellophane from around the wedge. Her knowledge of the cheese was impressive, even more so that she knew the process of making it.
Why on earth was she wasting her skills standing under the abysmal lighting of this grocery store? She should be at an artisan shop directing people who would appreciate it.
“It sounds delightful,” Anthony replied when she stared at him, her blush now a bright pink across her nose and cheeks. It brought out the red in her hair. She handed over a fresh napkin and he took it as he placed the phone back to his ear.
“—asshole. There’s a fucking slave waiting, and this bitch is talking about cheese.”
“Language, Marcus,” he chastised, feeling a frisson of irritation as his brother insulted her. “I’m shopping, she is answering my questions. If you’re done losing your temper, we can hang up.”
“Where the fuck is the girl, Anthony?”
A smile curled his mouth as he bit down on the Comté and the quiet nuttiness of brown butter coated his tongue. If Marcus was asking that question, it meant he had not continued to watch the feed. “Why don’t you check the video?”
Pulling the phone away, he nodded at her, crumpling the empty napkin in his fist. “I’ll take some of the Beemster, the Comté, and one other that you recommend.”
“What would you like?” she asked, so eager to serve.
“Surprise me.” His response made her bounce on her toes, a broad smile on her face as she crouched behind the counter to seek out something that could surprise him. As if that were possible… but at least it would be something delicious. The girl had a good palate.
Looking down at his phone, he moved out of the call and brought up the control panel for the video controls in the house. Keeping the phone close to his chest, he looked down at her pale form against the concrete. It was shiny from the thin layer of water he’d left her in after her wake-up call, her collar chained to the floor with less than two feet of lead. Not enough for her to sit up all the way, which he had done on purpose.
Knowing that by now Marcus was looking at the video, he tapped the remote activation button and watched her scream, body jerking, water splashing. Then he turned off the electric jolt and moved back to the phone screen so he could rest it against his shoulder. “Do you see?” he as
ked Marcus.
“She’s going to get sick, and you’re not even there if something went wrong. What if she’d reacted badly to the shock?”
“Are you questioning me, Marcus?” The edge to his tone had made the smile fade from Amanda’s face, and he sighed, offering what he hoped would pass for an authentic, human smile. “What did you choose for the third one?”
“Um…” Her blue eyes flicked to the phone in his hand, and then, as if she remembered her customer service training, she plastered the smile back on her face. “I, um, I hope you like it. It’s more subtle, but very good. A Pyrénées Sheep cheese from Abbaye de Belloc. We only just got some this month, so I really hope more people buy some so they keep it in stock.”
“Well, if I enjoy it, I’ll make sure to come back and buy more.”
“If you like her so much, why not just fucking take her? She can talk to you about cheese while you electrocute her,” Marcus muttered.
“No,” he replied, abrupt, and then he took the packages from Amanda, watching her reaction as her fingers touched his. The flush was back, and he wondered if she was aroused or afraid of him.
Human emotions were so needlessly complicated.
“I really do hope you like them.”
“Thank you, Amanda.” He set the cheeses in the basket and then pushed the cart away, pressing the phone to his ear.
“Amanda.” Marcus huffed. “Maybe I’ll take her and bring her up here. See what she can teach me about cheese while I—”
“The answer is no.”
“What the fuck, Anthony? Are you really protecting that cunt?” He laughed. “She sounded young, was she pretty? Is that the deal, you want her for yourself after you’re done with Beth?”
“I want her to be here so that this hovel of a store continues to carry decent cheeses. If you do something without my permission, there will be consequences.” He kept his voice hushed as he paused near the bagged lettuce, but his brother knew he did not make idle threats and Marcus’ laughter wound down to a growl.
Breaking Beth Page 4
