by JJ Giles
But Brian didn’t feel it, no, the sensation of frigidity rapidly giving way to the most intense sense of being burned from the inside out. Brian’s vocalizations amounted to grunting gasps.
Quite affectionately, Jerry loosed the gag and let Brian scream.
“Make it stop...please, my Lord, make it stop,” Brian cried.
But Jerry only reached out and crushed the penis in his grip. Driving the spikes into the soft flesh, another fresh scream of unadulterated delight was his reward. Only then, did he stuff a piece of cloth in Brian’s mouth.
Jerry straightened the wheel and unhitched the feet. Brian merely dangled as Jerry wrapped his ankles and calves in plastic wrap. He lowered Brian to the floor, let him stand on his feet and loosed his arms. Quickly, Brian’s hand went behind him to try to retrieve the router bit. But the router bit was something once embarked upon couldn’t be quit.
“You have to suffer it,” Jerry reminded. Quickly, he grabbed Brian’s wrist.
Brian shook with the pain of this ticklishness inside of him, as if caterpillars crawled into his abdomen toward his chest. The most sadistic sensation of all, the feel of being invaded by pernicious forces, the chemical set every one of his itch nerves on fire internally.
Another grip on his penis reminded him to be still, to let his arms be at his sides and endure this. He heard another rip of the plastic wrap and felt it on his chest snugging his arms tightly to his body. It drove the nails deep into the muscles there.
His body was dragged away, placed on a horse.
Ah, but it was burning again inside and the first crack of the paddle on his ass had him burning outside, too. The desire to experience Morgan’s kind of love simply vanished.
* * * *
When he opened his eyes, Brian found himself in his father’s bed. A phallus was stuffed into his rectum, the plastic wrap around his hips holding it there. His penis was a pincushion now; his chest muscles flinched uncontrollably to the daggers driven there. And when the vibrator wiggled it sent a volt or two to the maiden and ground out on the penis.
Yet his father hovered over him, his father’s smile genuinely paternal and full of pride as if his son just recovered from some horrific illness that threatened to divide them for all time.
“Better?” Jerry asked. Tenderly, he divided Brian’s hair with his fingers and pushed it away from his face.
Wantonly, Brian stared. His father’s expression reminded him of the night Jerry hung over him, laying cold compresses on his body to break a fever. Tears streamed out of his eyes and the thought that he could have survived ten years without his father in his life made him realize that a bout of temporary insanity had just ended. “Can you ever forgive me?” he cried.
Quickly, Jerry gathered his son into his arms, his own tears melting over Brian’s shoulder and dripping from the plastic. “You’ve come back to me?”
“Yes...yes,” Brian gasped shivering. He wanted nothing more than to return that embrace, his father the most affectionate man in the world. How he used to feed his son, hold his son on his lap and rock him to sleep, play softball, soccer, and watch war movies and horror flicks together in bed.
But after Jerry’s father died, Jerry became such an asshole. Drank constantly, raged against everything, everyone. The only thing they had in common was the dungeon, the last little bit of love, hatred, respect and disregard they had for each other expressed only there.
“I love you,” Jerry whispered. “God, I love you. Please don’t ever leave me again.” Carefully, he laid Brian’s body back to the sheets and wiped his eyes.
As his father wiped his nose, he began to sob. The emptiness in his heart was more than he could bear. “No. Not now. I need you so badly.”
“I’m here for you.” He pulled the thin cotton sheet over his son and kissed his cheek. “I’ll stay right here with you. Try to sleep.” Filled with relief, he pulled another pillow under Brian’s head.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s over now,” Jerry reassured him. It wasn’t actually necessary to talk about ‘that day.’ He reached up to dim the lights. “We’re alright. You just sleep and I’ll be here with you.” Again, he kissed Brian’s forehead and rose quietly, slipped out of his shirt and nestled into the chair.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brian awoke to the soft snoring of his father and opened his eyes to see Jerry still propped in the chair with his feet tossed to the ottoman. He had refused to leave his son, although there were other beds in the house, this bed that he could have gotten comfortable in.
From the distance of thirty-five years, Brian looked back to remember the happiest days of his life, those spent with his father. Brian hadn’t known that they were decadently wealthy people. That his great grandfather had been the president of the United States. That Abernathys littered the world like debris spewed from a volcano that traveled the globe on air currents and fell back to the surface somewhere.
Brian only knew his father’s love.
His earliest memory was that of his father and their nightly voyage into the bathtub together. When his sister was old enough to join them, Jerry no longer got in but sat by the side of the tub and watched, washed them, scolded Brian for splashing water in her face.
The servants and the security guards were of no account. They were everyday life. Brian wasn’t allowed to be shipped off to some distant boarding school. He stayed at home and attended the Academy.
Brian was sixteen when his grandfather died. Died in his sleep. So many people in the Mansion that morning when the ambulance came and took him out of the house. All the wailing, the shivering. The bourbon and scotch and the sobbing. It was the first time he’d ever heard his father’s voice bark out orders at people like they were dogs.
Later that night, Brian edged into the darkened living room lit only by an errant ray from the grand entry hall. Filled with fear by the day’s events, he’d whispered, “Dad.”
“What is it?” Jerry snarled.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. Your grandfather’s job is my job now.” And everybody knew that grandpa’s job was to be a dickhead. “Go to bed.”
The day everything changed, nothing ever again changed.
At least not until the day his father caught him and his best friend since elementary school in the playroom when he was seventeen. But it only returned them to each other on a superficial level. His father still forced him into accounting and into the accounting department at Abernathy Acquisitions. Taught him the finer points of white-collar crime where Brian languished for want of fresh air.
Until last night he hadn’t seen his father...his real father...since the day his grandfather died. He could only believe that Morgan was responsible for that. That his father stayed the entire night, watched over him, protected him as always he had, comforted him.
Jerry stirred as if he could feel his son’s steady and wanton gaze upon him. Quietly, he arose and went to the bed to sit on the edge, again hovering over Brian with a smile. Casually, he opened the drawer on the night table and retrieved a switchblade. With the flick of a button, the blade locked into place and Jerry laid back the sheet. A horrendous jerk loosed the plastic from Brian’s body.
“You slept well,” Jerry noted.
“Like I haven’t in quite a while.” Brian was grateful.
Jerry smiled. “You know I’ll be staying here for awhile. You’re welcome to stay with us.”
The sentiment swelled in Brian’s heart. “I appreciate that. But it’s asking a little much for you to put me to bed every night like you used to.”
“I don’t know about that. You’re my son. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
Broadly, Brian smiled, a little sadness in it no longer feeling like a kid. “But you’re having some problems yourself right now. Maybe when you get through them... Is there anything I can do?”
Jerry shook his head. “Just know that your mother and I are going to be much better off
without each other than we are at present. And don’t be angry about it. Be happy for us.”
For a moment, Brian paused. “You know I didn’t give you Morgan’s e-mail address so you could get divorced. I was hoping it would bring you two back together.”
Jerry drew in a heavy breath. “Well, if it was your intention to save us, it has. The time I’ve spent with Morgan has made me realize that I’ve been living my life all wrong. Since the day your grandfather died. Since before that actually, but I was still a kid then and didn’t know better. Kept on doing it after I was grown and should have known better. And I believe that the time Morgan has spent with Cheryl hasn’t hurt at all.”
“Morgan...and Mom?”
“Got the invoices to prove it. She was actually quieting down a little until last week she freaked out and ran away to France again.”
“And she has a lover there?”
“For thirty years.”
“I never knew that.”
“I didn’t want you to know. There was no good reason to drag you and your sister into our miserable lives. And no matter what you want to believe, it wasn’t me who threw your mother down the stairs and caused the damage you saw the day you stopped in at the Mansion and then came screaming at me. She came home from France that way.”
Incredulously, Brian stared as he rearranged his limbs for the first time in hours. “This guy in France keeps beating her up and still she goes back there?”
Jerry threw up his hands. “I’ve never put any restrictions on her or forbid her to do anything she thinks will make her happy. And yes, she still goes to France. That’s not to say I’ve never touched her because I have and I’m not proud of it. But that was years ago before I learned how to not let the things she’s doing and saying affect me.”
“Jesus, I didn’t know this.” From what he’d seen of his mother lately, some of that made sense.
“And if you had known, it would have made a difference?”
“Of course it would have. My mother isn’t exactly the maternal type, if you know what I mean. Alex has always been more maternal than she ever was.”
Easily, Jerry agreed with a bitter grin.
“So what's with you two? I know you’ve never had any real affection for him.”
Jerry looked away. How wrong he was, but Brian didn’t know the whole story. “I don’t know. He wandered into my office a few weeks ago, maybe a month, I don’t know. He’s redecorating my office now. Yesterday was the first time I’ve seen him since then. I don’t know. Just don’t have the fight in me anymore, I guess.”
“Sooo...let me understand this. When your dad died, you inherited everything, right? You loved everything he loved, like money, hated everything he hated like Alex and went to the pinnacle of the Tower to command. It was your job.”
With that, Jerry averted his gaze to his son’s broad chest, dappled with the least little bit of fur, unlike him. “If it needs to be reduced to a single sentence...yes. Yet, I hated my father, Brian. Hated that man from the day I was born until the day he died, and still I hate him.” His voice rose with anger and frustration, and it thrust him off the bed away from Brian and into the room.
“Dad…” Helplessly, he watched as his father pace aimlessly with his fists clenched. But Jerry wouldn’t be stilled and he threw open the bedroom door and stormed the living room.
Quickly, Brian grabbed a towel from the bathroom, cinched it around his waist and followed only to see Alex curled at the end of the sofa, wide-eyed at Jerry’s rage.
Jerry glared at Alex. “Tell the boy why I won’t tolerate even the mention of our father ever again.”
Quickly, Alex glanced at Brian and shook his head, an indication to be still. Yet Alex stayed on the sofa, refusing to further irritate his brother. “Jerry...Jerry...”
Like a lunatic, Jerry turned ready to do battle.
“Jerry, he’s dead. He’s exactly where he ought to be. He can’t hurt us anymore.” Alex’s voice was soft but insistent. “There’s no damage he can cause any longer unless you allow him to act through you. Don’t do that, please, Jerry. Please, don’t let him do that to you any longer. To us any longer. To the entire family anymore.”
The time stretched long as Jerry stared at Alex, the expression of a madman ready to explode creasing his face. Jerry’s fingers were splayed as if he might choke the very life out of the next thing to cross his path. Yet Alex held his gaze, refusing to give up until Jerry began to breathe again, the tension loosening its grip on his body.
“Brian and I will get you some coffee and then in a little while, we’ll call for breakfast.”
Jerry nodded. He collapsed into an overstuffed chair and threw his legs to the ottoman. Only then did Alex swirl off the sofa and go to Brian, his hand around Brian’s arm to drag him away to the kitchen.
Behind the closed door, Brian cried, “What the hell was that?”
Bitterly, Alex stared into Brian, the same height as he. “I don’t know how the topic of the old man came up, Precious, but we obviously don’t want to go there again. I know you’re only trying to understand why your life is so fucked up, understand the motivations of the people around you. Suffice to say, it’s an ugly, brutal, drawn out affair that would make the Marquis de Sade look like a nun. Your grandfather was a sick son of a bitch.” His hand held to his stomach to stroke the ache there. “Just the mention of him drives your father to madness, as you can see.”
Brian fell against the granite countertop, disheartened but even more curious as to what happened. He didn’t know how to ask.
“Some things are just personal, Brian. The humiliations and suffering your grandfather visited upon all of us kids needs to remain private. None of us want to go back there anymore. Most of us buried our grief with him. Unfortunately, your father, being the oldest, was forced into a situation I don’t think he really wanted, became the CEO, responsible for the family, the image, the fucking money. And yes, I think things are changing for him. I believe sincerely that he doesn’t have the fight in him anymore to sail the ship to the destination your grandfather plotted.”
“But you two are closer than I ever understood, aren’t you?”
Sadly, Alex sniffed. “We were, Precious. But that was a very long time ago. Long before you were born when your grandfather drove a wedge between us. And I don’t know yet if he wants that to change or not, but I’ll stay here in the penthouse and be available to him if he needs me.”
“You had a very calming effect on him. I think he needs you.”
“We’ll see.” Quietly, he turned to the coffee pot. “So let’s just agree that we won’t remind him of anything that hurts him so badly and continue to very gently draw him out. I heard you two in the discipline room last night. He needs that very badly.”
Brian animated with the thought of it. “I can use a little of that myself.”
“Perfect.” He placed a cup in Brian’s hand. “So let’s go chat him up about...I don’t know...he’s very interested in your business, for one.”
“My father? Interested in flowers and the quality of dirt?”
Alex laughed. “Just you, Precious. Whatever interests you interests him.”
Brian’s expression grew somber with the thought of it. Because nothing in the world interested Brian more than Morgan. Yet he followed Alex to the living room and stared at his father a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Jerry’s expression was so pained, it was as if the man inside was only moments from total annihilation and was refusing to accept it.
Quickly, Brian went to him and fell before him. He laid his naked chest against his father’s and wrapped his arms tightly around Jerry’s waist. Jerry clutched tightly, tried so valiantly to restrain the tears threatening to break free.
“Oh, Brian,” he breathed. Those tears did break free at the very sound of his son’s name. Jerry’s arms locked around Brian and Jerry rocked him, sobbing uncontrollably to think what Brian had suffered throu
gh the years. How deeply Brian had suffered, and he had let it happen.
“Dad,” Brian gasped.
But Jerry only held tighter and shook his head, unable to talk about it.
Brian lingered in that embrace feeling the horror inside of Jerry break free. But where did it come from? How could it be contained? The thought that it could no longer be contained was quite obvious, but where did it come from? Brian merely allowed his body to be crushed by his father’s desperation, feeling as if he were the rope around Jerry’s neck that might finally save him or dispatch him for all time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As miserable as ever a man was, Brian found himself driving aimlessly. He could only begin to guess what his father had been through. At least as much as Brian. But apparently Morgan was helping a little.
Thoughtlessly, he drove until he came upon a church. Suddenly, he realized that’s exactly what he needed. To confess. Without hesitation, he followed the pathway of old tile worn through to the concrete underneath. He stopped at the secretary’s desk to ask for Father Romanelli.
“He’s in his office. Go on in,” she said with a smile.
Unhesitatingly, he opened the door. “Hey, Dad,” he whispered.
The old priest turned with a scowl on his face. “Where the hell have you been, boy? And give me a cigarette.”
Brian threw the pack and the lighter to the desk and flopped on a threadbare sofa cushion, his vision trained on Romeo. “I’ve really fucked up.”
The scowl on Romeo’s face softened a little, but returned to anger. The smoke curled around his face and slid over his bald head, his gaze drilling into Brian. “You walked out on an incredible woman so I have to believe that the devil has taken possession of you, boy.”
