Beautiful Torture

by C. P. Mandara

  "Fine. I'll sit." I'll do anything if it means putting some distance between us.

  Alex lets me go slowly, sliding the tips of his fingers gently against my neck before letting them tangle in my mane of hair. He then grabs a handful and yanks my head back, making me gasp out loud.

  "Yes, you will. You'll sit and you'll listen to every word I have to say. When I've finished things are going to change around here. I'm sick of playing your games, Harper. Now, we're going to play my way." He gives my head another tug and I let out a small whimper, before he roughly pushes me away from him.

  I walk slowly to the chair with my legs wobbling beneath me. For a moment I wonder if I'm going to make it, but they hold out. Fear has grabbed a hold of me, and it feels like someone has put my heart in a vice. What is going on here?

  Grabbing hold of both arms of the chair I lower myself back down carefully. I have a feeling I'm not going to like what happens next, and sure enough, my sixth sense pulls through admirably.

  "You're in love with Brandt Browning, aren't you?" Alex strolls towards me, ignoring the sofa on the other side of the lounge, preferring to stand and tower over me.

  "I am not," I hotly deny, and it's mostly true. I might be infatuated with him, but I'm not in love with him - not yet.

  "You're lying. I've seen you look at him. I've even talked to your friends. You're crushing on that boy bad, aren't you, Harper?" Alex raises his eyebrows, waiting for a reaction from me, but I don't give him one.

  "I'm not in the market for a boyfriend, Alex. I'm here to study and get good grades. If I don't, I get kicked out. It's that simple. I don't want you and I don't want Brandt - end of discussion."

  He shakes his head and gives me a nasty smile. "You're lying, Harper. Not only that, you're wasting your time on someone who will never look at you twice. He's not from our world, Harper. He's destined for great things, with a father who's probably going to rule the country one day. His family's going to pick him a well-to-do missus, and he'll be shipped off to make beautiful, posh fucking babies. Maybe he'll go into politics, too. Whatever he does, believe me when I say his future doesn't include you, babe."

  "I don't want a boyfriend," I reiterate, trying not to let those home-truths hurt too much. He's not telling me anything I don't know already, but it's not nice to have them thrust in my face.

  "Yet, he's standing in our way, Harper." Alex pins me with a searing look that reduces my insides to acid. "I think if I got rid of him I'd have you all to myself, wouldn't I, Harper? If I took him out of the picture there'd be no barriers left. There'd just be you and me." Alex sits down on the arm of my chair and rubs his hand against my jean-clad knee. I want to throw up all over it. I'm pretty sure I can see where this conversation is going, and I'm not going to like it much.

  Alex's fingers rise up my legs, and I stare at them, completely horrified and turned on all at the same time. I'm disgusted with myself, but there's no fighting it.

  "He's not," I whisper, while my eyes follow his fingertips intently. They continue their journey upwards, lightly skimming my crotch, before lingering on the top button faster of my jeans. Then, very deftly, they pop it open. "Stop," I whisper, my voice nothing more than a breathy croak. Releasing their vicelike grip of the chair arms, my hands immediately try to push his away, but button number two has already followed the same path as number one, and I'm not strong enough to get him off me.

  "Stop isn't going to be a word in your vocabulary for too much longer, Harper. In fact, I never want to hear it on your lips again." The last button is released, and my jeans peel open, revealing a pair of black, lacy panties beneath. I close my eyes and hold my breath, not daring to look at him.

  "No, this can't happen," I moan, but I'm not allowed to drown in my misery for long. Alex grips my chin and brings my face upwards.

  "Look at me, Harper," he orders, but I can't move a muscle. "Look at me," he repeats, "or I'm going to thrust two fingers in your cunt, smear your juices on my lips, and then make you taste yourself." My eyes fly open and, unfortunately, my panties flood.

  "We are going to be an item whether you like it or not. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which is it to be?" His fingers dive into the front of my jeans and grip my pussy hard. I gasp out loud, but don't answer him. Staring at his eyes, beautiful green emerald eyes that a girl could get lost in, I blink several times. My body has just gone into meltdown and talking will be nigh on impossible for a couple of seconds at least.

  Alex has no patience for that. "Still undecided, huh? Well, let me tell you how it's going down if you choose the hard route." His fingers brush my panties to the side, before two of them thrust deeply inside me. I squeal in shock but can't open my mouth to say a word. I've got to get out of here.

  Alex can see the panic in my eyes, and it excites him. He likes to be in control. I can tell because his face is now pressed up against me as he purrs in my ear, and I can feel the pulse in his neck. His heart rate is out of control.

  "If you don't want to play ball, Harper, I'm going to do something a little unpleasant to your best buddy." I immediately think of Lucy, and now my pulse is skyrocketing. What does he intend to do to her? If he touches her, I swear I'll kill him.

  "No," I wail, trying to wiggle my way out from the death-grip his fingers have on me. "No." My voice is finally back, but my head is all over the place. What do I do now?

  "Yes," Alex continues, "I'm going to plant some drugs in his room, and then I'm going to call the cops. I reckon it should get him put inside for a few years. What do you think, Harper? Would you like to be responsible for ending someone's life like that?"

  This is when I realise Alex is not talking about Lucy. He said 'he', and that 'he' is almost certainly Brandt. This is my first inkling that Alex Wilkinson is a very jealous man.

  "Jail changes people, Harper. Job prospects virtually disappear overnight, your family give up on you, you've got no friends, no money, and plenty of enemies everywhere you look. Jail can kill, too. Make a few mistakes, and you might never see the light of day again. One phone call from me, and that will be Brandt's life." Alex's thumb begins to massage my clit, and I can't help the whimper that escapes me. "Will you be able to live with the fact that you were responsible for his downfall? Hell, he might even commit suicide while on the inside. A lot of inmates do." His thumb presses harder and harder, and my hips buck up to meet him of their own accord. I want to die of shame. How can I be enjoying this? The man is a monster.

  "And the easy way?" I croak. I know I'm out of options here. I can't have that on my conscience. If Brandt gets locked away because of this it will kill something inside me, something I may never be able to recover from. There has to be another way.

  Alex smiles like the predator he is. "The easy way is simple. You agree to date me until I've had enough of you. It's that simple. If you agree to that, I'll leave your precious little buddy alone, but you are never to go near him again. Do we have an understanding?"

  Alex's fingers don't stop the whole time he's talking. I nod, then shake my head, then nod again. I have no idea what I'm doing. His fingers suddenly stop and his eyes narrow. Taking out his phone he speed-dials someone and barks, "You know that package I want planted? You've got the go ahead."

  "Stop!" I wail. "Stop. I'll do it. Yes." My eyes are large, round, and shocked. I'm not really sure what I've just agreed to, but I know that in the next couple of days I will be. What's just gone down here is going to change my life, and not for the better.

  "Change of plan," Alex says into the phone. "I'll be in touch." He hangs up. "Glad you've seen sense," he says, withdrawing his fingers slowly from my drenched pussy. He then smears them around his lips, just as he'd threatened to earlier. "Well, we'd better test this newfound change of opinion, then. Kiss me, Harper. Show me you mean what you say."

  I have a split second's hesitation over what I should do. There must be a way to wriggle out of this without hurting anyone, but I don't think that answer is goin
g to come to me anytime soon. Alex can sense my indecision because his face hardens. Picking up his phone once more his fingers prepare to dial, but I don't give them a chance to hit the button. My lips crash on his and my arms pull him to me. I know I've got to sell this. If I want to keep the man off Brandt's back for the foreseeable future I'll need to play nicely. I'm not exactly sure who Alex is yet, that he can order people around to do his dirty work, but I swear I'm going to find out. If he thinks he can trap me, then it's my job to outwit him at the earliest opportunity. Until then, we play by his rules.

  The kiss isn't unpleasant. Like I've said before, I find Alex attractive and there's chemistry between us. Once I've succumbed to it, it wraps itself around my body and mind like a dark, twisted fantasy. I need this, but I know I shouldn't have it. The taste of myself on his lips is the icing on a very decadent, double chocolate gateau. When we finally pull apart, both desperate for air, he looks almost as lost as I do. We're both reeling, unsure of what that just was. I don't want to think about it; I have this awful feeling I've just tossed what's left of my life down the drain.

  "So, we have a deal?" Alex looks at my lips, now swollen with the force of our kiss, and gives the bottom one a small nip. Pleasure shoots through me.

  "You don't play fair," I whimper. Alex merely raises his eyebrows in response and begins fastening up the buttons of my jeans, one by one. I'd much rather he flung me on the floor and fucked me senseless, but I also know that once I go down that route there is no return.

  "Just you remember that, baby. With you, I will never play fair." Standing up, he places a soft kiss on my forehead before letting himself out as silently as he came in.

  The man is like Jekyll and Hyde, with a lot more emphasis on the latter. I need to get rid of him or he'll destroy me.

  Chapter 10 - Gabriel

  I haven't travelled all the way up to Scotland to babysit some duplicitous bitch who'll do the dirty on us the minute she sets foot out of this joint. If it was up to me, I'd kill her now. Unfortunately I can't do that. If I do, Brandt is likely to kill me.

  Why am I here? It's a good question. I want my man back. I lost him in prison, for numerous reasons, not least of which is the fact that Brandt's not happy about sleeping with men - even though he enjoys it. That's my fault, by the way. I made him enjoy it. Every time we slept together I made sure the bastard came. It probably made his homophobic guilt worse, but that was half the fun of it.

  It didn't take him as long to come to terms with being bisexual as I thought it would. Technically, the man isn't gay because there's no way he'd pick sleeping with me over sleeping with a woman, but I'm wondering if I can't change his mind. It's been a while since he's been with a girl, and the fact that he's resisted sleeping with Harper this long is promising. It's at least given me pause for thought.

  I'm currently lying face-up in a bedroom that hasn't changed much in one hundred years, and I'm trying desperately to put my world to rights. Whichever path I seem to choose has Brandt in it, even though he doesn't want me in that way any more - or so he says.

  I hurt him. I hurt him really fucking bad, and he pushed me away. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly deserved it, but I didn't expect to be affected by it. Brandt was the first guy I've ever lost, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. I paid big time for that mistake and probably lost the love of my life in the process. I harbour no illusions that Brandt will ever come back to me, but fate has given me this opportunity to try and make it up to him, and I'd be a fool not to use it.

  Running my hand through a day's worth of stubble, I wonder if I should shave. At the moment I stand more chance of sleeping with Harper than Brandt, so I'm not sure I care. Besides, girls like the rough-and-ready look, or so I've been told. It's been so long since I've been with a girl I can barely remember. I'm not sure whether I want to fuck her or bury her in cement, but that's not my call. If I want to get rid of her as soon as possible, the best way to do it is to get her to squeal like a pig - it's just a matter of finding the right buttons to press. The trouble is, Brandt is unlikely to allow that, unless he's pissed...

  I have a lightbulb moment. Ka-Ching! It's time to get to work.

  Running downstairs I start to prepare breakfast. It's not for me, as I've already eaten. I'm going to cook for Harper. I may even get brownie points from Brandt because he clearly forgot to feed his princess this morning, not that she's actually getting fed now, but that's beside the point. Now, what should I make her? Something messy, I think. Porridge? Brandt would probably approve. It was the prison food of champions. Then we'll need some yogurt on the side. A nice cup of tea, too. I'd better make sure it isn't too hot, or that could backfire on me later. Hmm, what else? Some diced fruit in a little honey? Oh yes. That has possibilities.

  First things first, though. I've got to disable his camera upstairs. If I don't shut that off I'm going to be booted out of here faster than you can say Speedy Gonzales, and I'll have more than a slightly disgruntled coyote on my tail. I can do without the drama. If I do this right, Harper talks. She also gets kicked out, while I get plenty of cosy time with my main man. If I fuck it up I'm unlikely to set eyes on him again, so the onus is on me to get it right first time.

  The camera is easily dealt with. All I have to do is unplug the receiver upstairs and then turn it on again as soon as he shows up. No, scrap that. As soon as he notices the missing footage he'll know I'm lying. I need to come up with something else. Cleo, my cat, then strolls into the room and begins to wind herself around my leg. Bending down to stroke her fluffy black fur, she looks back at me with lidded eyes and purrs happily. At least someone around these parts is easily pleased. I'm down on my haunches, rubbing the spot behind her ears that she loves, when it suddenly comes to me. I can blame it all on the damn cat. It's perfectly believable. I smile big and I smile wide. This is too perfect.

  Bending down to kiss Cleo on the top of her head, I apologize to her for what I'm about to do. She is going to get in a spot of bother for this, but it's nothing she can't handle. Picking her up, I make a good deal of fuss over her before I carefully deposit her back outside the room and close the door. I then go over to Brandt's laptop, and using my arm, I sweep the thing on to the hard wooden floor with a good deal more force than necessary, but I want to make sure it's broken. When it crashes to the floor, only to bounce up and crash again, I'm confident that my work is done. The screen has also gone blank, and when I tap the on and off button nothing happens. So far, so good.

  Exiting the bedroom, careful to leave the door open so my backup story holds water, I return to the kitchen to get Harper's tray ready. Looking at my watch, I note that it's been about forty minutes since Brandt left, so that means I need to get a wriggle on. Pouring the porridge into a bowl with some milk, I shove it in the microwave. Next, I set out a little pot of yogurt with a spoon beside it. I also chop up apples, bananas, strawberries and melon, and place them hurriedly on a plate before drizzling some honey on top of them. There are no points for presentation today. Last but not least, I boil the kettle for her mug of tea. Pouring a generous helping of milk into the bottom of the mug, I see that I have approximately ten minutes left until Brandt gets in. It's perfect timing, providing he doesn't decide to double his normal run. I'm pretty sure he won't. He's nervous about having me in the house with Harper. An hour will be all he's prepared to risk.

  Carrying the tray carefully down the hallway, I watch my step as I begin the descent into the basement. The light down here is bad, so I take extra time and care. It wouldn't do to break anything just yet. When I finally manage to make it to the bottom, my eyes see nothing but mattress. I wait for a few seconds, listening for any sound of movement, but there is nothing. Harper is out cold, judging by the soft, even breaths I can hear. My luck really is in today. It will make what I'm about to do so much easier.

  Slowly placing the tray on the floor, I get out my lock picks. It won't take as long to conquer this beast a second time around because I know what I'm doing. Su
re enough, in less than two minutes I have access. Now it's time to start throwing things around and breaking them. Picking up the tray once more, I let loose a nasty grin. I wonder what Harper is going to make of this?

  The first thing I let fly is the bowl of porridge. It smacks into the wall and explodes everywhere like gooey white confetti. Globs of soggy oats and milk splatter the wall and floor. It looks like someone's thrown up - which is exactly the look I was after. Perfect. Harper lets out a shocked gasp from behind the mattress and presses herself further against the wall. She'd be well advised to stay there for the next few minutes, but that's not my problem. The next thing to go is the tub of yogurt, and I hurl it at the base of her bed. It shoots out of the container in all directions, leaving strings of dripping goo slithering down the wall and bed, like I've just spunked all over it. Excellent. This just gets better and better.

  "Stop it!" Harper shrieks, wondering what the hell I'm up to. She'll figure it out soon enough, though. I then throw the plate of fruit up at the ceiling, and shards of porcelain rain down, skittering across the floor as the fruit lands on top of it in sticky puddles of honey.

  "What on earth are you doing?" Harper asks incredulously, cowering behind the mattress, figuring that the crazy person is coming for her next. I'm not. I'm going to wait it out until Brandt begs me to take her on. Then I'll have all the time in the world to do exactly what I want to her, and there are lots of things happily flittering through my mind at the moment. I want to tie her up, I want to throat fuck her, I want to spank her, pull her hair - hell, there isn't much I don't want to do to her. But if I start doing shit uninvited I'm going to get into trouble and that won't get me what I want. I need to play this the smart way.

  Finally, picking up the mug of tea, satisfied that I've done enough damage, I pop a finger in the contents, just to make sure I'm not going to do myself an injury. The tea is warm but not scalding hot, so it looks like I put enough milk in. It's now time for the finale. Tipping the mug of tea over myself, I let the mug drop to the floor where it crashes into a thousand pieces and joins the rest of the broken debris. Looking at my watch, I figure Brandt is due back any time now. All I have to do is sit and wait for the fireworks - and there's going to be plenty of them. When Brandt gets here his temper is not only going to hit the roof, it's going to burst on through it.