FLAMES
By C.P. Mandara
Book Three of A Sexy Special Agent Series
Flames © 2019 C.P. Mandara
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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FLAMES
Book Three in The Sexy Special Agent BDSM Series
I’ve been left in the hands of a monster. He’s beaten me up, torn my flesh to ribbons, and tried to steal my soul – but even though I crave death, my body refuses to die.
Just when I begin to think that there is no God, an angel arrives to save me. Now it’s James Leveritt against Alain Dumortier with my life riding in the balance. I’m in love with both of them, but I’ll need to kill one if I want to survive.
The stakes have never been higher.
You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind – Mahatma Gandhi
Previously…
“Wake her up.”
“If I wake her up too soon, she’ll just drop again from exhaustion. She hasn’t been fed for three days.”
“Wake her up.”
I didn’t want to wake up. Alain and Geraud were arguing loudly, and I knew that as soon as my eyes opened, more pain would follow.
“Give her five more minutes. It’s no fun working with someone who’s virtually catatonic.” Alain’s voice was lazy, but I didn’t miss the edge to it.
“Wake. Her. Up.”
“Fine. Have it your way.”
A backhander across the side of my cheek sent my chair flying, and I clattered noisily to the floor – again. Opening my eyes slowly, I saw Geraud looming above me, and the man did not look happy. It's funny what a near-death experience can do to a person. Taking a swift look at the livid bruises around his neck, I marvelled that the man was alive at all. I'd probably missed my target by all of three seconds, max.
Glancing around the room, making sure my eyes did not linger upon him, I noticed a couple of guards posted near the doors. They were the only other people in the room. If I wasn't tied to a chair, I might have been able to come up with something, but wriggling out of steel restraints wasn't one of my specialities.
“Break her legs.”
That gave me a reason for concern, and even my opiate-laced brain suddenly woke up and took notice. This was going to fucking hurt, and we'd barely started. The bastard could have given me a little warm up punching session before going straight for my femurs, surely?
When the two goons from the rear of the room began moving forward menacingly, I wondered for a moment if I should start praying, but I didn’t. Looking up at Alain from the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he intended to do next. What did you do as an encore to that? Perhaps I’d be hung, drawn and quartered. I’d heard that was quite good fun.
As he advanced towards me, looking so fucking beautiful, he could almost have been angelic, and I couldn't help but wonder if our next session might cure me of my ridiculous infatuation. It would probably be hard to lust after a man who systematically began breaking every bone in your body. I reckoned there was a fifty/fifty chance. It all depended upon how much enthusiasm he put into the job.
Looking up towards him, and flinching at the stone cold expression I saw there, I decided I would begin praying. In situations like this, it was the only thing you could do.
Kiel, I think I might shortly be coming to join you. Tell them to light the fires, and roll out the welcome mat, sweetheart.
Chapter One - Lois
“Break her legs,” repeated Geraud. His fearsome demeanour told me he meant every word. I steeled my expression to show no fear, but inside I was a wreck. If Adie decided to follow up on that command, almost certain death would follow. My escape plans were limited enough as it was, but if they started breaking all the major bones in my body, that was my cue to say goodbye.
“It’s too soon to do that. You’re getting ahead of yourself, Dad.” Adie rolled his eyes and looked bored.
"Says who? The fucking bitch tried to kill me." Geraud pointed to the livid garrotte marks around his neck as his face went purple with rage. It appeared he was still harbouring a grudge from my recent attempt to sever his head from his neck — strange man. To add insult to injury, not only had my effort failed, but I'd targeted the wrong fucking man. Some assassin I was.
"I'm well aware of that," said Adie. "But if you want decent intel on who was behind the attack, you can't dish out that much pain yet. You'll need to be patient and let me do my job." Adie and Geraud were now speaking in French, but thankfully, I was rather good at most European languages, so I had no trouble following the conversation.
“I want her to suffer in every way imaginable,” Geraud barked, with some very animated hand gestures.
“Bien Sur. We both know I'm very good at that. Give me a day or two to get what I can out of her, and then you can have your fun." Adie had one of his razor-sharp Japanese blades in his right hand, and he ran the tip of his index finger over the point. A thin red line bloomed on his fingertip, and he smiled. "You do want this dragged out over several days, don't you, father? It would be a shame to kill her too quickly. I haven't even broken the needles out yet."
Geraud caught his breath and then sighed. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, his mouth curled up into a sneer of disgust. "You're right. I can't think straight when I'm around this bitch. You do your thing. You have two days to get everything you can out of her, and then I'm sending in the big boys. We clear?"
“Absolument." Adie took a handkerchief out of his pocket and slowly wiped his blade clean. He then grinned at me. "We're going to have a lot of fun, you and I," he purred. Then his gaze switched back to Geraud. "Why don't you rest up, Dad. I've got things under control here for now, and I know we have a shipment coming in today. Unless you'd rather I took care of that, and you carried on down here?" Adie tilted his head and looked at his father, calculatingly. My heart stuttered in my chest. If I was left alone with Geraud, I wouldn't last five minutes. The man had murder written all over his features. Still, that was probably the kinder option. Adie would make me suffer unimaginably under his hand – of that I was sure.
Geraud appeared to think about it. His hand rubbed the stubble over his jaw, up and down, as his eyes flickered this way and that. Although my expression was flat as I stared at both of them, inside, I was a churning mass of adrenaline and endorphins. What did I want? A quick execution, or the chance at living another day? It was a sad state of affairs that I couldn't choose one above the other.
When Geraud finally made his mind up, he waved his hand in the air dismissively. "No, you take care of it. I have the Bratva in today to pick up some girls, and there are a few things we need to discuss. If I get side-tracked down here, I'll end up keeping them waiting, and they don't like that much."
Adie smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I’d noticed. By the way, I’d change into a polo neck before you meet with them
.” He gave his father a wink.
Geraud rubbed his neck protectively. “Fucking bitch. You give her your worst, you hear me?” He gave Adie a dark look.
Stepping back, Adie flicked the knife over in his hand as he regarded me. “Oh, I intend to. You know you can count on me.” The slow smile that had been playing around his features turned into a grin as he picked up a leather-bound pouch and began unlacing it. “Go have your fun, father. We can talk later.”
Geraud nodded, and without another look at me, walked silently from the room.
Adie waited for him to leave, watching as the door slammed shut, and then told the two guards watching us to stand outside the room. They didn't need to be told twice. He then unbuckled the gag I was wearing and drew his handkerchief across my face. It came away wet and sticky with my saliva. Urgh.
“I take it they’ve watched you work before,” I said dryly, indicating the guards’ hasty departure.
Adie grinned. "Something like that." Pulling a long needle out of his leather pouch, he pinged it with his finger, and I watched it wobble from left to right. I had a bad feeling about this.
“Do I want to know what you’re going to do with those?” I said, and my eyes followed the needle that was now coming towards me.
“I don’t think you do, but it would spoil the surprise if I told you now, sweetheart.”
“Oh goody,” I drawled, “I love surprises.” My tough gal demeanour was fooling no one, though, and we both knew it.
"I don't think you're going to like this one." Adie then popped his needle in a glass full of liquid, which I sincerely hoped was some kind of sterilising fluid. Mind you, if I was going to die shortly, it hardly mattered.
“Why didn’t you let Geraud kill me?” I whispered.
Adie picked up his needle, shook it rigorously in his right hand, and bent in close so he could whisper in my ear. “I have no idea. It would have been the kinder thing to do, but then I’m not known for my benevolent tendencies.” He leaned over, and picked up the ball gag, pushing it back in my mouth. “Trust me when I say you’re going to need that in a minute.” He didn’t buckle the thing up, though, and I toyed with the idea of spitting it out. Adie read my mind.
"I wouldn't." He then grabbed my elbow, and I felt the tip of something sharp puncture my flesh and burrow down deep. My breath caught. The needle kept going. All of a sudden I began screaming, and if I hadn't had the damn gag in my mouth, I might have bitten my tongue off. Whatever Adie was doing behind me, it was excruciating, and pain sliced down from my elbow to my fingertips – and this was just the beginning of our torture session. This was my appetiser. The heroin Adie had given me earlier had long since worn off, and though I have never taken drugs in my life, I was well on the way to being a junkie. It wouldn't be long before I was begging someone to end my miserable existence. Why, oh why, hadn't I listened to James? He'd told me all of this over and over again, I'd just been too stubborn to listen to him, and now I was paying the price. In my worst nightmares, I had never envisaged this scenario.
After five minutes of extreme agony, Adie pulled the needle out and came round the front to check on me.
He kept his voice low as he said, “How are you doing, Thirty-Eight? Need me to shoot you up again?”
Fuck you, I thought and shook my head. I wasn't dead yet, and pain would remind me that I still had something to live for. There was a way out of this awful mess, and if I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and focused, maybe I'd still be able to achieve my objective. At least the right guy was in front of me, now.
Adie's eyes twinkled. "I love that about you, Thirty-Eight. You have a delightful streak of masochism that you wear so well. You already know that tears turn me on, but your face is so fucking expressive, I could sit there and watch you writhe in pain all day." His voice was louder now, and he was playing to the cameras. "After the needles, we'll try a little question and answer session, and I think you're going to enjoy what I have lined up for you." I didn't. I had a feeling this day was going to be one of the longest of my life, and I'd probably bear several scars from the beast before it was over. Whether my life was destined to be a long one or a short one remained to be seen, but my money was on the latter.
Getting his cell phone out of his pocket, Adie then barked into it, "Bring me a free-standing mirror. The biggest one you can find. I want the girl to watch as I work." He then picked up his needle and went back to business behind me. He had me screaming in seconds.
The mirror took less than ten minutes to arrive. It was for Adie's benefit rather than mine because I had my eyes closed most of the time, while I was screeching blue murder through the gag. Yelling and screaming helps to alleviate pain, believe it or not, and I was putting that research to the test today.
When he went for the ulnar nerve in my arm for the third time with his vicious needle, it was all I could do not to sob out loud. Having a needle pierce through a nerve is never a fun experience, but imagine someone playing with that nerve constantly for a good half hour or more. Believe me when I tell you you've not felt anything like it. James hadn't prepped me for anything like this, not that it would have done him much good if he had.
“Are you going to cry for me, Thirty-Eight?” I ignored the question. I had no idea why Adie was still talking to me. I couldn’t speak through the gag, and my face was contorted up into such lines of distress, I wouldn’t have been able to talk anyway. Perhaps he just liked to listen to the sound of his own voice as he worked. It wouldn’t surprise me. Waggling his needle left and right, he then elicited a vicious yell from me, and my eyes watered. Whatever he was doing inside my arm was damn unpleasant, that much was for certain. “Answer me, Thirty-Eight. Shake for ‘no,’ nod for ‘yes.’”
If you want an answer, I thought darkly, you’d better stop waving that damn needle about inside me. There was only so much coordination I could control through that kind of pain. Adie obviously figured the same thing because he then withdrew the needle and crouched down to face me.
“Answer the question, Thirty-Eight. Are you going to do tears?” He was back to his Spanish purr, and the sound cut straight through me, especially as his dark chocolate eyes were now hitting the back of my retinas. How the fuck could I be lusting after the man who was currently torturing me? How was that even possible?
Adie brushed his thumb down the inside of my cheek, making my insides clench. “Thirty-Eight. Don’t make me break out the knives. Answer the question.” His voice had now dropped a decibel or two, and that spelt trouble. Mind you, now that the ‘needling’ had stopped, I answered his question my own way – by shrugging my shoulders. Would I cry? It was highly probable, but we weren’t there yet. It all depended upon what he had in store for me. I had no idea why this was important, but I was most appreciative of the break.
"Spit it out." He held his palm out for the gag, and I looked at him through slanted eyes. His hand stayed where it was. Fine. If he wanted it, it was his. I hawked the thing out.
“How are you doing?” his voice was a low purr that I only just managed to catch.
“Just peachy,” I murmured. There may have been a good shot of sarcasm in my tone.
“Excellent. It’s about to get a whole lot worse. Sure you don’t want something for the pain?” He raised an eyebrow at me and waited for my response.
“Positive. You have fun back there,” I said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I intend to." He then looked at me rather quizzically. "James told me you'd be different from most of the females I'd encountered, but I figured that meant you'd be drop-dead gorgeous." He stared at me and waited for me to squirm. I didn't move a muscle. "Don't get me wrong, you are – but you are so much more than just a pretty face." He shook his head as if amazed at what he was saying. It didn't stop him talking though. " I'd love to know what you're thinking right now," he purred, popping his finger under my chin and lifting it up so that he could eyeball me.
“I don’t think you would,” I whispered tightly
.
He gave me a slow grin. “Try me.”
“Fine. You asked. Right now, I’m thinking how much I’d love to shove that very sharp blade of yours through at least one major vital organ. At the moment, I’m thinking I’d make it quick, but I suspect my opinion on that matter will change in a few hours time.” This probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say to your torturer, especially as he had talked about trying to get me out of here, but I didn’t trust him after my botched escape, nor would I again in a hurry.
His grin didn’t waver. “Good luck with that, Thirty-Eight. I suggest you keep those thoughts uppermost in your mind while I get back to work. They’ll be good for morale. Trust me.” He then pressed the gag back in my mouth, and I opened wide like a good girl. If we were going back to the needles, I was going to need it.
Standing back to admire my pitiful position, he then said, "You've probably made the right choice with regards to drugs. In a few hours, I'll be hitting you with all sorts of things, so you might as well get a couple of hours detox in while you can." I then watched him move back behind me, and I couldn't help but close my eyes in anticipation of what was to come.
“Brace yourself, Thirty-Eight. We’re going again.”
Adie liked to talk while he worked. On the upside, I got to brace myself in advance, on the downside, I got all the horrific details of what he was about to ahead of time.
“Needle now going in, Thirty-Eight.” He didn’t need to tell me that. I could feel the damn thing skewering a hole inside of me. Chomping down on my black ball, I got ready for the inevitable jolt of agony that would follow. “Did you know that the ulnar nerve is the largest unprotected nerve in the body? That’s why it works so well with the needles – it’s easy to target. All I’m doing is attacking what is essentially your ‘funny bone’ over and over again. It’s a vicious sort of pain, isn’t it, Thirty-Eight? I’ve broken many operatives with my needles, some after we’d barely even started.” Well, you aren’t going to break me, asshole. I’d already prepared myself for death, and if that involved excruciating pain over the next two days – so be it.
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