Beautiful Torture

by C. P. Mandara

  Hunkering down into the bedcovers, as far as my cuffed arm will allow, I try to stop thinking about death, and wonder if a night in Brandt's bed will be better than a night in my cell. What am I doing? Is the small element of safety I'll feel with him beside me worth the inevitable conclusion that will happen when both of us wake up tomorrow? We'll either end up fucking or fighting, and I'm not sure which is worse.

  When I hear Brandt's footfalls coming my way a few minutes later, I turn away from the door and huddle myself up into a foetal position. I'm shivering so hard I can hear my teeth banging together, and I'm not entirely sure it's from the cold. I feel like I'm falling apart at the seams - seams which were already frayed to begin with.

  His weight, when he sits down, makes the bed dip, and my body rolls back towards the middle. That's the last place I want to be, but I can hardly shift back to my corner while he's watching me. I'll have to sneak back into place later, when he's asleep. Meanwhile, I do a subtle little wiggle that will at least give him some space to lie down.

  "Calm down, Harper. I'm not going to eat you." Brandt's tone is dry. "Well, not today, anyway." I roll my eyes, thankful that he can't see me. Like that's supposed to reassure me. I hear him kick off his jeans and pull his shirt over his head. The next thing I know his body is flush against mine, and I nearly have a seizure.

  "Do you want the handcuff to remain like that, or would you rather be cuffed to me? You'll probably sleep easier if your arm is down beside you." My eyes blink at that. A few days ago I'd have never got a concession like that out of Brandt. He must be feeling guilty. Perhaps he does have a heart, after all.

  "To you, please." Trying to sleep with my arm at a right angle above me will be almost impossible, but I'm afraid the alternative might be just as bad. When Brandt releases my wrist from the headboard to reattach it to his wrist, he then wraps our cuffed hands around the front of my body and presses himself against my back. Oh God. I can't sleep like this.

  "Try to relax, Harper. You'll warm up soon. Gabriel won't come anywhere near us tonight. He's sleeping down the far end of the hall, and besides, I've locked the door."

  "Is that supposed to reassure me? He picked the lock to my cage, remember?" I can feel pressure building in my chest, knowing there will be a shitstorm brewing for me first thing tomorrow morning. I just hope Brandt will be on my side.

  "He won't hurt you tonight. I'm right here. I won't let him touch you." Brandt's voice is already sleepy, and I can feel him relaxing into the soft mattress.

  "And tomorrow?" I whisper.

  "Tomorrow is another day entirely," he murmurs. That sentence makes me want to explode on the spot, but it's the last word I get out of him. I then spend the entire night tossing and turning between the comforting warmth his arms provide around me.

  When I wake up the next morning, it's early. Maybe five or six o'clock, judging by the light outside. Brandt isn't beside me, and once again my arm is locked to the headboard above me. It can't have been there long. It's not sore yet. My free hand reaches out to feel the empty space in the bed beside me, and sure enough, it's still warm. I wonder if he's checking on Gabriel.

  Straining my ears I listen carefully for any sounds or movement, but I hear nothing. Either they're too far away from me or the door is really thick. The Victorians certainly built their houses to last, but they didn't know a whole lot about insulation. It feels freezing outside the covers that now cocoon me. I hope Brandt doesn't put me back in my cell. All I will be able to think about is Gabriel, and when he intends to get his own back. I know his kind. He won't let my retaliation go unpunished. He will get his pound of flesh. They're probably discussing what they're going to do to me right now.

  The door opens, making me gasp out loud, and in walks Brandt carrying two steaming mugs.

  "Coffee," I whisper. "Oh God, how I've missed coffee." The smell is tantalising. This isn't your standard variety of instant, either. This is proper coffee. The type that is filtered through posh chrome machines with lots of whirring and giant puffs of steam.

  "Coffee," Brandt confirms, "which you can have as soon as you start talking. Why did you set me up?"

  Oh God, we're back to that again? I want to cry.

  "I can't tell you that. They'll kill me, and they'll probably kill you, too. You don't know what you're dealing with here. Let it go." Brandt's always been clueless about what was going on right under his nose in college. He was a kid when all of this went down, though. We both were. Neither of us are now. We both had to grow up far too quickly.

  "Who is they?" Brandt barks at me, placing the cup carefully on his bedside table.

  "Keep your fucking coffee," I spit, turning away from him. We're back to square one and we're going around in circles. If he wants to start pulling my toenails out, he'd better get started.

  Brandt sits down on the bed with a resigned sigh. "Harper, I'll get this out of you, one way or the other. I'd rather not do it the hard way, but if you don't play ball that's what will happen. I don't have much time left."

  I laugh. A sad little laugh that Brandt won't understand, and that's probably for the best.

  "You have plenty of time left, Brandt. I, on the other hand, have very little. They'll come for me. It won't be long now, and even up here they'll find me. You might as well kill me now." Mal has too many contacts, both inside prison and out. Nothing stays secret from him for long. He knows I'm a loose end with Alex gone, and if I'm no longer in the trade, he'll make sure I don't pose a threat to business.

  "No one will find you up here. What are you talking about?"

  Brandt looks exasperated, but I cannot give him what he needs. I still care about him. If I keep him in the dark, there's a chance Mal won't kill him when he finds me. Hopefully, I'll be far away from here by then. I keep trying to run, but life is not playing fair. Mind you, when did it ever?

  "Just do whatever you have planned to make me feel miserable today, Brandt. I cannot talk to you. You've already been through enough, and I can't put you through any more. The rest of this sorry mess will be on me. I deserve it, and I'm ready for it."

  Brandt's face darkens. He doesn't understand, and why would he? He has no idea what I've got myself into.

  "Ready for what? Don't do this, Harper," he threatens. His hands curl into fists, and the look in his eyes is almost one of defeat. He thought after the last episode with Gabriel I would just cave in and do everything he says. If it was only my life at risk, I would, but I can't have anyone else's death on my conscience. I'm already weighed down with the burden of my misdeeds. I can't add any more to the list. Mal won't let me suffer for too much longer, anyway. So there's that to look forward to, I guess.

  "If I talk, I put you at risk. I know you don't understand, but that's the truth of the matter. I got in with the wrong crowd back at college and there's nothing I can do to undo that. People will come for me. I don't want you to be here when they do."

  "I don't believe you."

  Brandt thinks I'm making all this up, and I can understand why. I have no proof. I'm not sure I could verify my sorry tale even if I wanted to. The meth labs have probably been moved by now, and along with most of the other shit. Nothing stays still for long in the drugs trade.

  "Then don't believe me, but one day you will, Brandt. Take my word for it." I just hope he'll still be alive and breathing when that happens.

  "I'll take you straight back down to that cell, Harper. I'll let Gabriel have some fun with you. Stop this now before something happens that we both regret." Brandt's face hardens and I can tell all his earlier friendliness has gone. Now he has me right back where he wants me, the old rules apply. All the promises of yesterday have flown out of the window. He is not my saviour. While I am under this roof we are enemies, and I have to remember that.

  "Then take me back down there and watch him electrocute me." I suspect Gabriel has all that and worse planned for when he gets his hands on me. He's in another category entirely to Brandt. That man knows how to deal
out pain, and lots of it. I can tell just by looking at him.

  "That's not funny, Harper." He's not kidding. I'm not particularly looking forward to it, but I am resigned to the fact.

  "Do what you have to do, Brandt. I'm done arguing." I am. This morning, I feel just as exhausted as yesterday, and it has nothing to do with my lack of sleep. My situation up here is about to go nuclear, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like it.

  Brandt then stands and picks up my mug of coffee. For a moment I worry that he might throw it over me, but he simply walks around the bed and places it on the small wooden table next to me.

  "I'm going to let you drink this while you think about what you're letting yourself in for today. I'm not going to protect you unless you have the decency to confess all. If not at the police station, you could at least make me understand what happened that day. You owe me that much, Harper."

  I do. I owe him all that and more, but I'll put him in danger if I do so. I'm no stranger to taking pain, though. If he wants to dish it out, I'm pretty sure he can't top what Mal did to me. Gabriel is another matter entirely. I have a feeling that man could make me confess in seconds if he put his mind to it, and that terrifies me.

  "Thank you for the coffee," I whisper. It's a small kindness, but it means a lot in my world right now.

  Brandt gives me a dark look and shakes his head. "I suspect you won't be thanking me in an hour or so's time, Harper. Think carefully. I'll be back in twenty minutes." He turns his back to me and strides angrily out of the room, shutting the door with a sharp click behind him.

  Once he's gone I almost snatch the coffee from the bedside table. It's as if I'm scared that if I don't drink it immediately someone will walk in and take it away. Alex was like that. If I took too long eating, he would just remove my plate from under my nose and dump the contents in the bin. The man had quite a temper on him, but I think it was more that he wanted to keep me stick thin and appealing, so all his friends would want to fuck me. I was a trophy wife to him, and I have no illusions otherwise. I'm not even sure the man loved me. He wanted me simply because everyone else wanted me, and he always liked to win. Dating was a competition as far as he was concerned. Could he get the girl? Well, he made sure of that, whether I liked it or not. Alex was the type of man who didn't like to lose.

  Taking a sip of coffee, I swear when the mug burns my fingertips and the heat scalds my tongue. Serves me right for being so eager. It smells so good, though. I don't remember the last time I had a cup of decent coffee. All I know is that it was a very long time ago. Even so, the taste of it upon my lips is heaven. Its bittersweet aroma leaves an acid-like burn on my tongue, but it reminds me of better times. I need to savour every moment of the good stuff that comes my way because these moments are becoming few and far between. God. Since when did I get excited over coffee? How tragic. I'm a living, breathing, walking disaster. Everything I touch seems to disintegrate. Blowing on the surface of my mug to cool the molten lava within, I am once again lost in memories.

  Mal bends me over the bed roughly, before hitching up my skirt. The cologne he wears is sweet and overpowering, and I can smell the whisky on his breath as he leans over me. His body is powerful and heavy, and I can feel his erection straining against his crotch.

  "Have you got a little present for me, darlin,'" he asks, as his hands splayed wide over my backside. I'm not sure what I've got for him, but I wish to hell it were HIV. His fingers knead my ass with a fierce intensity that has me gasping in pain rather than pleasure, but this doesn't deter him in the slightest. He kicks my legs apart with his booted feet and rests his weight upon my back as he gropes between my legs. At least the man has his priorities in order. Drugs first, then sex. I wouldn't want to think I was special. Mal wastes no time retrieving his package, and pulls it out of my pussy like his fingers are on fire. Maybe he just wants to check the merchandise is the real deal; who knows?

  Sure enough, I hear the crinkle of plastic and then I can hear him sniffing, checking that the stuff is genuine. It had damn well better be, else Alex has just sold me down the river. A few painful seconds go by as I wait for his verdict. I have at least three heart-attacks while I wait for him to speak, but unfortunately I do not manage to pass out on the floor. Life is so unfair.

  "Stuff's good," he grunts, before resuming his fierce manhandling of my ass. I have a bad feeling about this. This isn't going to be the normal MO. Usually I'm forced down on my knees while the fucker in front of me does his best to remove my tonsils. I'm used to this and can almost cope with it. Today, I have a nasty suspicion it will not be that easy.

  "Do you like pain, 'Arper?" And those there, are words I never want to hear. It's not because I don't like pain - I do, and especially during sex. It's because I never tell the sick bastards to stop once they've started. I'll be the one on the floor begging for more, while I'm bleeding out of every major artery I own. Alex finds this incredibly amusing and has tested my powers of miraculous recuperation more than once.

  "Yes," I moan. I'm going to regret those words, but I say them anyway. Besides, I know damn well that Alex has already told him everything he needs to know about me.

  "That's good," Mal says, slapping my ass so hard I squeal in pain. "Are you going to be my good little slut this evening, darlin'?" he asks.

  There really is only one answer to that question, so I give him the 'yes' he's looking for. The next thing I know his teeth are sinking into my ass so hard, I'm pretty sure he's just drawn blood. I squeal in horror and immediately try to get up, but there's an elbow in my back pinning me down.

  "Ah, I don't think so, babe. You're 'ere for the duration," he barks. "All you've got to do is stay there like a good little whore and do every damn thing I tell you. Think you can manage that?" He's leaning over me and barking each word directly into my eardrum. My whole body trembles as flecks of spit fly across my face. I have never been so scared in my life, and I have had plenty to be scared about, trust me.

  "Yes," I whimper, hoping that somehow I manage to get out of here alive. There have been others who haven't. I hear things on the grapevine. Some of the girls in the lab try to befriend me, mistakenly thinking I have some influence over Alex. They tell me all sorts of secrets, trying to gain my confidence. They're wasting their time. I don't know anything of value, and I can't help them work their way up in this industry. If they want to suck Alex's cock they're welcome to it, but otherwise there's not a lot of room for promotion around these parts.

  "Good," he sneers. "I like a woman who can follow simple instructions. You might come in 'andy." Mal then positions his cock at the entrance to my pussy, wrapping both hands around my neck as he begins squeezing. Pressing tightly against my windpipe, he thrusts brutally forward, impaling me with large, monstrous thrusts that feel as if they're trying to break me apart. He pounds into me with as much force as he can muster, and I'm counting down the seconds in my head. When I get to sixty I can feel my lungs screaming for air. Is he going to let me breathe again? Or is this where I die? Panic is peeling me wide open and I have never felt so vulnerable. All sorts of crappy thoughts are reeling through my head.

  There is no one around.

  I'm half-naked.

  He's a drug lord.

  He has a gun.

  He can easily overpower me.

  No one will care if I end up dead in a dumpster tomorrow.

  I don't want to die.

  Alex, you complete and utter bastard, I think as the last of my air evaporates. He knew this would happen, and yet he sent me here anyway. I hope he rots in hell. My head lolls once as I nearly blackout, and then Mal's hands miraculously loosen their grip and I take in giant, gasping breaths of air.

  "That's right, sweetheart. Breathe while you can. You've got ten seconds of air before I start over." His fingers reach for my neck again and I almost begin choking in terror at the thought of what he's about to do. This is obviously some sort of fun game for him. There's nothing like a bit of 'will-she-live' or 'won't-
she' while you're messing about underneath the sheets. No wonder no one wants to have sex with this monster. He's a freaking lunatic.

  Sucking in air like there's no tomorrow, I get no chance to recover before Mal's hands encircle my neck once more. It's obvious he wants to feel my fear because he lets his hands caress the soft flesh in front of my throat before he applies any pressure. This kind of foreplay is enough to send me crazy, and sure enough, I start thrashing about underneath him. I can't go through that again. My throat is still sore from the last attack and this time I'll pass out, and who knows what he'll do to me then. This guy is a loon.

  He lets me thrash about on the bed for a few seconds, and I know that my struggling is turning him on because his cock is rock hard and pulsing heavily against my clit. Jesus Christ, how do I extricate myself from this mess? Pushing back against him has no effect whatsoever because the man is built like a tank, and trying to slip sideways is equally as ineffective, especially as he's decided to sheath his cock in me again, effectively pinning me to the bed.

  "Please," I whimper, as his hands tighten once more. I don't manage to get another word out before his thumb is pressing against my trachea, cutting both my air supply and voice off at the same time.

  "The word 'please' on a woman's lips is so fucking adorable," he says, before bending down to sink his teeth into my ear. I can't even scream, the pressure against my throat is so tight. My eyes are bulging in their sockets, and I have an awful feeling that I may not make it out of this room alive. "I think you're going to say 'please' lots this evening, 'Arper. Who knows? Maybe if you're a good girl, and you do everything I tell you to, maybe I'll even let you live through the experience. Stranger things 'ave 'appened." He thrusts into me again, over and over, brutally hard until this time I do blackout. I am revived shortly after by a slap around the face, and I find myself wheezing as I try to drag air into my chest. It hurts so much. Even breathing is painful now. Black spots dance before my eyes as my lungs burn.