by P. Brier
“What do you want” she stutters, obviously terrified.
“Your blood” Marco offers with a laugh.
12: This Is Going to Hurt
“Justice, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Some see an innocent victim. Others will see evil incarnate getting exactly what's deserved.”
― Emily Thorne
Now…
Jesse Montgomery
THIS IS GOING to hurt. His voice echoes in my head as I try to adjust my body on the frigid ground. He hasn't said another word since he informed me of my upcoming doom. He is going to hurt me, and in a way, I deserve it.
"I'm s-sorry" I murmur between sobs. My body wailing in agony. He answers with a chuckle.
"You will be"
I hear him pulling something out of a bag, the sound of metals clinking causes me to shiver. I don't look up though. I am too exhausted and my arms are screaming from being the only thing holding me up for god knows how long. There is a tingling sensation throbbing through my upper arms, which causes cries to escape my lips. I feel his eyes on me, and I shrink back in both fear and anticipation. This is happening.
"Get up" he demands
I don't move, my body on strike, refusing to obey. I might deserve this, but I am not going to die without a fight, I just can't. I continue to look at the bland concrete, prolonging the enviable. This is going to hurt.
"Cute" he walks up to me and grabs my arm, not gently. I scream in protest and try to get free. I use my other hand and drag them down his forearm. Blood and skin cells coating my finger nails. He snickers at my attempt. I know, cute.
He throws me over his shoulder, and walks out the door. Where is he taking me? I wiggle, trying to make him lose his balance. His hands come down hard on my ass, making me yelp in response. He continues walking towards another room and throws me down in a bathtub. The hard marble abusing my body. He turns on the water, I scream as ice cold water hits my cuts and bruises. My body flailing like a fish out of water trying to avoid the abusive current.
After my lips have turned azure, he turns off the stream and pulls me into his arms. It isn't a lover's embrace. It's a necessity, I couldn't hold myself up if I tried. He half carries, half drags my lifeless body back into my cell. He pulls the chair from the corner and sets me into it. He ties my arms and begins to tie my legs. Fight, Jesse. Fight NOW, my conscience screams.
I bring my head back as he's tying my left leg to the chair and I smash it into his forehead. The room spins, but the attack caught him off guard and I try to break the chair leg with my untied limb. Before I can get out of my confines, he grabs my legs with a growl and ties it with swift motions to the chair. I failed. Blood trickles down my forehead, and Bane looks no worse for wear. Only extremely agitated.
"That was stupid" he pulls a knife from his pocket and brings it to my only remaining sleeve, he slices through it with precision till it falls at my waist, leaving me naked from my belly button up.
"I am going to use and abuse this body, and you're going to love every single part of it, just like the whore you are, and right when you're about to come apart, I will take your pleasure and turn it into pain" he whispers in my ear, "and when you beg to die, I will decide if I am merciful or, let's say, drawn out on your ending" he growls.
He stares at my bare chest, and he moans in approval. Glad you like it. He leans in closer and licks the blood on my forehead. Running his calloused fingers down my cheek, when he finds my neck and grabs hold, he forces my eyes to his. He smooths his other down my shoulders towards my breast. A hand cups the flesh as his thumb rubs circles around my harden nub. I try to bite back a moan, warmth pulsing at my core. I am wet.
"You still respond to me; it is such a waste." he growls.
He uses the knife to rid my body of the rest of my coverage. His hand comes down and slaps my swollen nipple with such harshness, my teeth dig into my lip to hold back the sound of my arousal. He steps back and grabs something else out of the bag. I hear something smacking the ground, with a swooshing sound following each crack. Is that a whip?
He slithers around the chair and puts both hands on each side of my body, caging me in. I look at his right hand holding the whip. My eyes widen. It has a wooden handle and multiple strips wrapped in eloquent leather.
Noticing my curiosity, he raises an eyebrow and speaks with a mixture of domination and lust "It's a flogger", he smirks.
"It can bring pleasure or pain" he spoke with a husky growl. "I decide what you get, I am in control"
Stepping back, he brings the flogger into the air and carries it down on my right thigh almost softly. The slight pain arousing. A whimper escapes my lips, my body already brought to perfect submission.
"Pleasure" he husks.
Then he brings it down much harder, leaving raised slashes on my thigh. I bellow in pain. My vision getting blurry either from tears or pain, probably both.
"Pain" he confirms.
"Both work together, now count" he demands.
I must have looked confused, because he shakes his head and sighs in frustration. Stupid me.
"Count. The. Strikes" he snarls impatiently. He brings the flogger down on my right leg, harder than the left.
"O-one" I stutter.
Crack.
"Two" I cry
Crack. Crack.
"Three, F-four", a wet substance trickles down my leg. Blood.
He drops the device and kneels in front of me, allowing me time to catch my breath. My body is confused on what is happening. I shouldn't be enjoying this. He pushes my knees apart and brings his hand to my throbbing pussy, he rubs the sensitive nerves between my legs. I raise my hips to meet his ministrations. Slowly, his thumb rubs torturous circles on my hardened clit, giving the pleasure in pain. I start to come apart, when he stops with a smirk. Leaving me breathless to grab the flogger from the ground.
His eyes almost soft, he looks at me one last time before anger takes over his features. He strikes my flesh, one after another. Each attack getting firmer and more painful. He forgets to make me count after so many strangled attempts. He is lost in subspace. I am lost in anguish and lustful confusion. Not caring or noticing my cries. I howl for him to stop but he is gone. The abuse comes repeatedly, without mercy. This is going to hurt. But was I supposed to like the pain.
"PLEASE, stop" I cry. The fear of the situation making it hard to breathe, "I c-can't breathe, please" hyperventilating. Praying he will see I have had enough.
He stops, out of breath, and I hear his pained whisper "You deserve this, and more" the sight of concern etched into his eyes. That is the last thing I see as I lose consciousness and all I feel is bleak cold nothingness.
✽ ✽ ✽
Then…
Franco pushes me over to Bane, and I stumble, but Bane’s arms wrap around me, stopping me from falling.
Father and his two goons, one being my new brother, point their guns at us. This is it. Bane pulls me closer to him, and whispers in my ear, “When I say run, you run”. I nod.
I’m terrified. I knew it wouldn’t take father long to search for me, and he wouldn’t be happy, but didn’t think he would find me this fast. I watch as his hand goes to his hip and with emanate speed he pulls a pistol from the back of his jeans, and shoots Franco in the head. Father and Travis both freeze at the sudden events. He falls with a thump.
“Run!!”
I take off as fast as I can and run to the truck. I hear gunfire from behind, but I don’t stop. Please be okay. I get to the truck and fumble for the keys. I start it up and notice I don’t hear gunfire anymore. All I hear is my erratic breathing. My shaky hands go to turn on the headlights. The beam falls on the scene and notice Travis is gone. I don’t know if he is dead or if he ran. Father and Bane are in a standoff, both guns pointed at each other’s head.
“Jesse, get out the car” my father orders
“Stay where you are” Bane yells.
“I could blow his head off princess”
; “Not before I take you with me, asshole” Bane counters.
With a quickness Bane gets down and kicks my father’s legs out from under him, but not before a bullet rips through his shoulder.
“No” I yell as he falls to ground.
My father laughs and gets his footing. He stands over Bane, ready for the kill. Without thinking I put the truck in gear, and drive the truck in my father’s direction. A flash of shock appears in his eyes. Before I feel the thump of his body underneath the tires, I say a silent prayer that Bane was far enough away. The sound of his body crushing underneath the tire will be imbedded in my memory forever. I let out a squeal and slam on the breaks.
“Bane, Bane, Bane” I scream as I get out of the car, “Where are you.” Not seeing him anywhere. I hear a grunt and look behind the cement support, he is on the floor, blood coating his arm. He must have rolled out of the way when he saw me speeding for my father.
I fall to the floor and grab Bane in my arms. I almost lost him again, and my heart can’t take losing him again.
“Why do you always try to leave me” I criticize.
“You should know by now, you terrify the shit out of me” he grunts.
Without thinking about it, I bring my lips down on to his. He is shocked at first, he stares at me not sure what to do, then his lips move with mine and a moan escapes his lips. His uninjured hand cups the back of my neck. He returns every motion. His tongue mixing with mine. Both of us getting lost in each other caresses. Soft but eager. He grunts in pain, but smiles into my lips.
“I should kick your ass, you almost killed me” he teases. Our foreheads touching. His breath fanning my lips.
“Shut up, I saved your ass”.
I just killed my father, but I feel nothing. No remorse, no sadness, just pure emptiness. Bane is alive that is all that matters.
“Let’s get out of here, asshole” I chuckle.
Before we have a chance to move, the sound of someone coughing stops us in our tracks. Bane puts his hand up to stop me from moving towards the sound, wanting to check it out first.
He peeks over the barrier, “its Travis, he is shot”
He pulls his gun up to end him when I rush to his side, “No, let him live. Please.”
“He will come after you”
“He is my brother, he has his face”
Bane looks at Travis, a sneer plastered on his face.
“You come near her, I see your face, I will end you. Don’t test me. She saved your ass, don’t waste it on calling my bluff”
13: Knight in Shining….
“You're the perfect mayhem to my malice.”
― Cassia Brightmore, Flatline
Now…
Bane Stratus
THE MEMORY OF the cuffs being slapped on my wrist and the sound of bars slamming shut assaults my every waking moment. More than the cries of the men I have killed. That is why I can’t go soft when it comes to her. But the look in her eyes when I was whipping her. She looked aroused, but terrified at her body’s reaction. She didn’t want to like it, but she sure as fuck did. Instead of making me feel nothing, I felt all over. My cock having the brunt of it. I had to walk away. I had always loved the darker side of sex, but I never thought sweet little Jess, would enjoy it as well.
I slam my hand down on my desk and growl in frustration. She framed me for murder. I can’t have feelings for her. She is a job. A very personal one. I take a shot of whiskey and march back to her room. Its time she learns her lesson. She can’t tell me to stop and expect obedience. She is my toy, not the other way around. Not anymore.
I march down the stairs to the basement, when the sound of sniffling stops me in my tracks. Good. She should be crying. I spent three years in prison and nobody cared about my tears. Not that I had any. I was angry, ready for revenge. The look of indifference in her eyes when they hauled me off to the pen was nail on my coffin. I died that day. She broke the only trust I ever lent out. She betrayed me in the worst way possible. She changed me. For that she needs to suffer.
I barge into the room and notice her in the same spot I left, tied to the chair. Her head is down and she is shaking. The welts on her legs, stomach, and breast are raised and pink. Making my dick hard. That is my mark on her body. But she isn’t mine, never was. By the end of the night she will be nothing but a cold body. Its time I put the nail in her coffin, but first I’m going to have some fun.
She doesn’t look up or attempt to lift her head. Exhaustion obviously taking its toll. She lays limp in her chair waiting for my next move. I walk behind her and grab her hair close to her head and pull her head back. She yelps, which causes electricity to course through my dick. Fuck, she is still sexy as hell.
“You don’t speak unless spoken to, understand” I spit, “you don’t tell me what to do. You are nothing but a toy and I am going to use you as one”
She doesn’t say anything. Not that I expected her too.
“The words “stop” and “no” are no longer in your vocabulary. Use either one again and I’ll do worse than this”.
Tears well up in her eyes and she blinks them away. I let go of her hair and stand in front of her. I unzip my zipper and remove my pants. She thinks she can get submission from me by appealing to my humanity. Well, guess what sweetheart, my humanity died long ago, you were the one to kill it.
I grab hold of my cock and watch as she stares in shock at my aloofness, no romance, just pure rage. The kind of rage I am going to take out on her plump, pink mouth.
“Open up. If you bite me I swear to God, you will regret it.” I warn. This is going to be fun.
She nods. I lean my hips further. Hesitantly she opens her mouth and takes me in. She is slow and soft, moving up and down my shaft. A look mixed with fear and desire becomes her. Fuck, she looks delicious. But this is about me, not her. I begin to push harder, reaching the back of her throat. The sound of her gagging is music to my ears. Tears fall from her eyes and her face turns red from lack of oxygen. I fuck her face with abandon, not caring if she is hurting or not. Her mouth feels incredible, warm and wet. I grind my hips into her mouth. She tries to pull back but I grab the back of her head and hold her still. This isn’t enough, the ecstasy coursing through my veins wants more of her fucking body.
I pull my dick free from her mouth and she takes ragged breaths.
“You Bastard’ she whispers.
I slap her across the face, and she recoils from the impact.
“Watch your tongue” I smirk, the innuendo not being lost on her.
I untie her wrists from behind the chair, and they slump to her sides. She is exhausted. From the look in her eyes, I bet if I feel between her legs she is wet. For me.
“Lay on the floor, spread your legs. Don’t fight me and I won’t hurt you, much”
She delays and a warning growl escapes my lips. She gets the hint and scrambles to the floor. Laying on her back, she spreads her legs. Her pussy is bared to me and everything in me wants to get a taste. Her little cunt is pink and bare, her thigh glistens with moisture from her arousal. But when I look at her face, I don’t see desire. I see fear. Pain. Nothing. She looks empty. I lean down, almost wanting to comfort her but instead I grab a chunk of her hair, and pull her close. She yelps.
A feeling I don’t want to feel forms in my gut. Guilt. I have never felt guilt for anyone I have killed, yet I’m dragging this out longer than need be. Anyone else, would have been dead the minuet they arrived. But not her. No matter what she does, I can’t shake the feeling that she is more than what I believe. It’s as if she knew this would happen and that she believed it’s what she deserves. It is, but I suddenly have a moral compass. Instead of killing her, I’m playing with her, and the more I play with my new toy. The more the old Bane wants to rescue her. Fuck. I need to end this, and quick.
Part Two
14: Nothing More, Nothing Less.
“The whirlwind in his brain—which had so many times tugged his pituitary in ways that made him TAKE i
nstead of GIVE—
subsided for the very first time.
Tightness in his crotch usually corresponded with a tightness in his gut, making him want to CONTROL, to CHOKE, to SUBDUE... but not this time.
Not ever again.”
― Jake Vander-Ark, Fallout Dreams
Then…
Jesse Montgomery
IT’S BEEN FIVE months since I killed my father. Right now, we are in Kansas heading to California. We have been staying at hotels for the last few months, and I am ready to settle. I’m tired of traveling, and Bane has been grumpier than usual since my father’s demise. You would think he would be happy he is dead, but instead he is consumed with finding Travis. After we dropped him off at the hospital, we never checked back, until we saw on the news about a John Doe that disappeared in the night, we knew it was Travis. He keeps us moving so that we are never in the same spot for long. Harder for Travis to find us that way.
“How much longer till we stop” I whine, “I’m in desperate need for a shower” sounding like a child on purpose.
He rolls his eyes, “It’s not even dark” he states, without rewarding me with a glance.
“I get it, but I need to stop Bane, we have been driving for days, I need a break” I drone, “plus, you keep going and I’ll just annoy you more. So, you might as well give in”
He glances at me; a smirk plays his full lips. “Fine” he concurs.
I smile, and he continues driving. After driving for another thirty long agonizing minuets, we pull up to shady motel in the middle of nowhere. I sigh, home sweet home, for now.
Bane grabs our bags and checks us in. The motel was basic, three levels all open to the highway. The metal stairs creak beneath our feet. When we reach room 106, the smell of cigarettes and musk assault our senses. But I couldn’t go another mile. I dealt with worse.
“Home sweet home” Bane mumbles. Speaking my thoughts. He tosses the bags on the floor and throws himself on the only bed in the small room. Butterflies flutter in my belly at the prospect of sleeping next to him. His brute arms wrapping around me in an intimate embrace. His breath fanning my neck as he curls around me. I look to his eyes and find this focused on me. Lust and want swirl in his irises and it take everything out of me to not run to him. He breaks the contact and looks away.
