Beautiful Torture
Page 20
"Let me do it," I say. "Leave Brandt alone." My voice is loud, clear, and firm. I mean exactly what I say. I don't mind them torturing me, but I can't watch somebody else take it. I never have been able to. We all have our weaknesses.
Brandt looks at me as if I've just grown two heads, and Gabriel gives me a puzzled look. He can't figure me out. Too bad. My request doesn't throw him for long, though.
"No can do, Harper. Been there, got the T-shirt. I have new fish to fry." I can see the bones of his tattooed ribcage peeking out at me and they move in a macabre dance as he positions himself for blowjob number two. What the hell is this guy on? If he popped a Viagra we could be at this for hours.
"You promised me you wouldn't do this," Brandt finally manages to spit, when he realises he's been backed into a corner on a one-way street to completely fucked up. His eyes are closed tightly shut, as if he's afraid of what he'll see when he opens them. The view isn't too awful, to be fair, but then, I'm not the man who had to put up with Gabriel's caveman shit for the last year or so.
Gabriel slides his hand along the side of Brandt's cheek, his thumb caressing the flesh softly. "Things change," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, you knew I'd come for you, eventually. What we had between us was too strong to let go of." That's a pained voice if I ever heard one. There's definitely some unfinished business between these two.
"I wasn't the one who let go of it." Brandt is still refusing to look at Gabriel, which is almost a crying shame as the man looks like an avenging God when he's half-naked. I'm pretty sure there aren't many who could resist that body, let alone face, and I'm not one of them. Perhaps that's why Brandt's keeping his eyes shut. I suspect Gabriel gets his own way far too often.
"It was a mistake and you need to let me explain." The words are curt and clipped. It seems there are more secrets in this room than just mine. I'm not the only one who has some explaining to do.
"Don't want to hear it. If you want to fuck me, go ahead. Just make sure you kill me afterwards, because if you let me live I'm coming for you, and I won't stop until there's a large hole bleeding out of your chest."
Brandt does open his eyes then, and the expression within them is dead. He's already preparing himself for what's ahead. It's a kind of emotional shut down. I've had to use the same technique no end of times with Mal.
It's just a blowjob; Gabriel won't actually fuck him. I'm trying to justify my lack of action in my head, but it's not working. I shouldn't be allowing this to happen. But if I talk everything becomes so much worse. Mind you, if Mal finds me with these two in tow he's liable to kill them anyway, so I might as well just tell all. I'll have no way to bargain for Brandt's life if the worst happens, but it was probably a long shot anyway.
"Harper, eyes on us, sweetheart, else there'll be trouble." That's Gabriel reminding me that this show is solely for my benefit. Actually, I suspect some of it is for his too, not that he'd admit it.
My eyes reluctantly refocus on the gruesome twosome. The evil monster is now tipping Brandt's head back, positioning him for penetration. How can I let something like this happen? How can I stand here and watch? But somehow I do, with the kind of sick fascination that is usually reserved for perverts and sex pests. Since when did male on male turn me on? I don't know the answer to that question, but the truth of the matter is that I am utterly entranced by this pairing. What is wrong with me?
"Harper go stand behind Brandt and fondle his balls, sweetheart. He likes that." Oh shit; now I'm going to have an active part in this?
"Wait, let me just get those ties off your wrists." The penknife comes out again, and with a quick slash my hands are free. "You even think of doing anything stupid and I'll take it out on poor old Brandt here, after I do some serious damage to you. We clear?"
I nod. We are clear.
"Then what are you waiting for? Get on your knees and let those fingers get to work."
After a moment's hesitation, I obey. Gabriel will just start barking out more threats if I don't do as I'm told, and I have no wish to be hurt further, if I can possibly avoid it. My poor knees are still throbbing with pain, and my backside isn't faring much better.
Kneeling behind Brandt's prone body, I hiss as the flesh across my knees stretches. There's no other way to do this, though, so I bite through the pain until they connect with the concrete.
"Pain and arousal are such a wicked combination, aren't they?" Gabriel seems to know exactly what he's doing, every damn step of the way. In response, I grunt. I don't want to be aroused by this, but I am. Reaching under Brandt's naked body, my hand tentatively brushes against his thigh, and I can feel his legs tighten in response.
"I don't think Brandt's had sex in a while, Harper. While I'm pretty sure he's got himself off quite a few times in the last couple of days, I don't think self-service is anywhere near as good as the real thing. Let's make this good for him, shall we? How about we show him what he's been missing?"
When my hands gently cup his balls there's a soft, tormented gurgle from Brandt. It tells me that Gabriel's cock is already inside his mouth and my eyes flutter closed as I begin to imagine the two of them together. I suspect Brandt will never forgive me for putting him through this, and I'll have to live with that. It's just another thing in a long line of many fuck ups that my conscience will have to endure. I'm quite surprised that the weight of my misdeeds hasn't managed to crush me yet, but there's still time. If this goes the way I expect it to, I'll be ground into dust soon enough.
"That's it, Harper. Roll his balls in your fingertips and use your thumb to stroke his perineum. Let's make sure he has some fun." Brandt isn't on the same page as his friend. He's still very firmly in the 'I-want-to-murder-you' camp. Kicking back with his hips he sends me flying, and I'm guessing his teeth sink into Gabriel's cock because there is a moment's shocked silence, accompanied by a loud howl of pain.
"You fucking cunt!" Gabriel hisses, grabbing Brandt's hair while he gives him a vicious backhander. I swear I can feel the force of the blow from here and my eyes smart just thinking about it. He then bends down to whisper something in Brandt's ear, and though I strain my ears hard to hear what it is, I can't hear a thing. It's probably more threats. Whatever he's said, it seems to quiet Brandt down. One moment the man is trying to bust both hands off at the wrist and in the next, he's as placid as a meditating monk on marijuana. Something is most certainly up, but as per normal, I'll be the last to know about it.
"Harper, get your ass back here." Gabriel is back to shouting orders and I can't help but roll my eyes in frustration. Looking at the locked cell door with longing, I wonder if I'd have put more effort into my previous escape attempt had I know what was waiting for me. I have a feeling I could have given it an extra ten percent at the beginning, and that might have made all the difference.
"Grab his dick and work it, little lady, but don't let him come. Only I get to decide if he climaxes or not."
I can kinda see why Brandt split from the crazy control freak because he's probably more than your average nut job could handle. With this in mind, I do exactly as I'm told. I'm in a locked cell, with at least one crazy person who may or may not have murder on his mind. I'm taking no chances.
"Grabbing his dick," I confirm dryly, as my fingers close around the beautifully soft, silky skin of Brandt's cock, "and pumping it up and down." With any luck that should appease the beast or beasts. There's not one person in this room who's on my team, that's for sure.
After around two minutes Brandt is putty in my very capable hands, and I'm getting a perverse sense of satisfaction from making him suffer for a change. He's making cute little gurgling noises, some of which are due to Gabriel's cock trying to strangle him, but most are because my very talented fingers are milking the life out of him. I figure this is probably the least I owe him, and if he wants to come, I'm going to let him. Gabriel can take it out on my ass later. I'm not overly bothered if I can't sit on it next week because I probably won't be alive to worry about i
t.
Tightening my grip around Brandt's cock I give it a few more almost violent tugs, certain that he's about to come any second. Gabriel must think the same thing too, because he's suddenly yanking my hand away and pushing me backwards.
There's then a loud roar and Brandt's head snaps backwards as Gabriel has finally finished with him. Stepping under his victim's cuffed hands, Gabriel walks around the back of him, fastening his eyes on me. He's not come. I wondered if he'd just emptied himself in Brandt's mouth, but his cock is still straining proudly through the flies of his jeans. As he swaggers to me my gaze dips downwards, admiring the beauty of his body and trying to figure out how something so gorgeous can be so deadly at the same time.
"Want to watch me fuck your BFF, Harper?" I struggle to my feet, moving backwards in the hope the man can't get too close to me, but there is nowhere to run. Those incredible tattoos are moving with catlike grace towards me and I can't take my eyes off them. Before I know what's happening, he's got me pressed up against the wall and I can feel his cock trying to poke a hole in my belly. My breath hitches.
"Don't pin this on me," I hiss. "This is what you've wanted all along. Brandt is going to hate you if you go through with this, and he'll never forgive you. I don't give a shit either way." Gabriel's black eyes stare into mine before his lips trail a soft line of kisses down my cheek. I swear I lose half my brain cells in that instant. My body is officially uncontrollable.
"Ah, but we are going to pin this on you," Gabriel purrs. "If you want to stop it, all you have to do is talk. We're not asking for much, Harper. Just the honest truth. If you can give us that, then I'll stop all of this nastiness in its tracks. If not, I'll bend him over while you watch, and then, when I've finished with him, I'll start on you. I can be really creative when I set my mind to it. For a girl who likes pain, I think you'll appreciate just how devious I can be."
He picks me up, pushing me high against the wall as his cock slides underneath my pussy. He rubs it back and forth against my slit in long, slow movements. The friction has me gasping.
"I think I'm going to enjoy playing with my new toys, Harper. You're both locked inside this little cell with me until I've had enough of you, and I have a feeling it could take a month or more before I'm well and truly bored with you both. There are so many possibilities. I might even let you two fuck each other, when I need a rest. I wonder how many creative punishments I could come up with, before I broke you both? I suspect you'll fall faster than Brandt, but who knows? There's a chance you might surprise me."
He drops me without warning, and I land with a bone-jarring thud on the floor. My knees scream at the impact but I bottle the sound up, mainly because I know my tormentor would enjoy it.
"Okay, sweetheart. It's time to finish what I've started. You can go sit over there on the bed and watch. When we're done I'll see about punishing you for your earlier behaviour. Off you go now."
When I lurch forward, trying my best to follow his instructions, Gabriel lands a hard swat to my ass as he strides past me. I suck in a heaving breath and clench my fingers into fists. I want to kill him, but I'm well aware that I don't have the skill set for that job, and I'm pretty sure Brandt doesn't either. We are royally fucked, and in more ways than one.
Settling myself gingerly down on the bed, I grab the sides of the thin mattress for support and wonder if this will all end if I talk; there's no guarantee Gabriel will release us if he gets what he wants. I don't trust him any further than I can throw him, and as there's no chance I can pick the guy up with my pathetic arms, that isn't far.
"Are you sitting comfortably, Harper?" Gabriel calls out, almost pleasantly, as he throws a look my way. He is now standing directly in front of Brandt's ass, and I instantly feel sick. He won't do this. I'm almost ninety-nine percent positive there's no chance this will happen. Mind you, I've always been overly optimistic.
Playing to the crowd (me), Gabriel brings his penknife back out of his pocket, and my heart dives down to my feet. What is he up to now? I swear if he starts slicing him open I'm going to run over there and tackle him to the floor. Okay, fine, try to tackle him to the floor. I can't watch any more nastiness. I had enough of that with Mal.
But Gabriel doesn't do what I expect. Instead, he begins slicing a line through the back of Brandt's T-shirt. When he's cut a big enough split he simply grips both ends and tears the fabric in two. I swear Brandt and I both wince at the same time. We both know what's coming and for all my earlier talk, I am nowhere near as convinced that this won't happen now. It is happening.
"I like my men naked, Harper. Don't you?" Gabriel turns around to grin at me, while his fingertips draw a meandering line down the expanse of Brandt's back. It is covered with bold black, twisting tats, and when matched with Gabriel's torso, I think I nearly come on the spot.
Gabriel hasn't finished, though. "I like them even better when they're naked and helpless." He then fists his cock, aiming the beast towards me, and I watch in horror as he primes it for his target.
"If you love him you can't do this. It'll kill him," I whisper. My eyes don't leave his fist. It's making swift, jerky movements, and the beast is once again standing firmly to attention.
"It's because I love him that I am doing this," Gabriel says, far too quietly. The soft sound of that voice sends shards of ice up my spine.
Gabriel then walks over to the bag he brought and takes out a bottle of lubricant. Pumping three squirts into his right hand, he slowly covers himself in the viscous fluid, before pumping another two squirts onto his fingertips. Positioning himself back behind Brandt, he presses his fingers firmly between his ass cheeks and begins to prep him for what's ahead.
"There's no lube in prison, Harper. Who said romance was dead?" Those words cut a steely, unpleasant path down my spine, while I watch those fingers do their worst. For some sick reason, I can't tear my eyes away.
Brandt, who has been fairly quiet until now, finally panics. He goes crazy against the bars, howling for all he's worth - and I can take any more.
"Stop it!" I scream. "For God's sake, stop it!"
Gabriel is placing his cock against the entrance to Brandt's ass, and I nearly go into meltdown.
"I'll talk!" I yell. "I swear I'll talk! Please stop it. No more. I can't take any more." I begin screaming hysterically, and I don't stop until Gabriel claps a hand over my mouth.
Chapter 20 - Harper
"I've stopped. I'm not going to hurt him. Calm down." This is Gabriel trying to placate me after what's happened. Understandably, it's not having much of an effect. I'm still screaming through the hand he has plastered over my mouth, and I'm not planning on stopping. I need to. Tears are pouring from my eyes, and breathing is almost impossible because when I throw a fit, I do it in style. I'm on all fours on the floor and waving my arms around frantically, which is the same thing I was doing when begging him to stop five minutes ago.
"I'm okay, Harper. He's taken the cuffs off. He's not going to hurt me. Calm down." This is Brandt. His voice is oddly shaky, but his tone is soothing. There are too many tears for me to see a thing, but I can somehow tell that he's close. "Move out of the way. Let me hold her. You're just making it worse." Someone grabs my arms and presses them to my sides. Oddly, I do not fight them. I can tell instantly that it's not Gabriel. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do.
"Don't fight me. Relax. We're going to let you go, Harper. We just want to know your story. We want to know what happened. No one's going to hurt you now." The voice beside my ear confirms that it is indeed Brandt, and he then picks me up and cradles me in his arms. Considering we've both been horribly wronged in the past hour or so, this is almost laughable, but I don't send him away. For one, I haven't the energy, and secondly, his arms feel too good wrapped around me. The cold that seems to have permeated every single cell of my body slowly begins to recede as he rocks me gently back and forward. Eventually the tears subside of their own accord, and I rub at my eyes with trembling, fluttering hands.
"What now?" I whisper. I can barely see straight, and I think it's a combination of exhaustion and stress. I just want to collapse somewhere warm.
"Now we have a drink. It's been a stressful day. We deserve a drink, don't you think?" Brandt is standing up, moving through the door of the cell and up the stairs of the frigidly cold room that has been my prison for the past few days. I hope this is the last time I'm down here, because I certainly won't be sad to see the back of it. I think I'd rather die than go back to the boredom and concrete, and that's saying something.
For some reason I expect to be taken upstairs to Brandt's bedroom, but I'm not. Instead, I'm wrapped in a soft, wool blanket and propped up on a leather armchair next to a roaring fireplace. A massive Victorian mahogany bookcase adorns the far wall, and there are velvet-lined tables around us. Card tables, perhaps? There is so much history contained within these walls, and I bet it has its fair share of stories to tell. I almost laugh. None so odd as the one currently unfolding, I bet.
Brandt is busying himself with a large bottle of what must be Scotch. The amber liquid almost glistens in the firelight as he pours, and he decants it into two heavy crystal glasses. Passing one to me, he sits down beside me and waits for me to take a sip. Perhaps he's hoping alcohol will help loosen my tongue. He needn't worry. He asked for this sorry tale and he'll get it. Now that I've committed myself to talk, it's almost a relief to finally get it off my chest. I've been holding it inside for far too long. There might still be a way to save him after this is all over. If I tell him to run, there's a chance he'll listen after he's heard me out.
"Drink." Brandt clinks the side of his glass to mine, and tips it up to his lips. He takes a hefty swig and settles into the armchair opposite me. Grimacing, I do as I'm told. I know what whisky tastes like, and I'm not particularly looking forward to draining the glass - but I'm going to do it all the same. Hopefully it will make the rest of the evening slightly more palatable. This past week hasn't been one of my best.