AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You and Declan, Master.”
Declan's hands have snaked around to begin to rub my breasts. I arch shamelessly into his touch. I know this is sick and twisted, but my head falls back against his shoulder, and I close my eyes, letting him fondle me however he wants.
I jump at a hard slap. But there’s no pain because I wasn't the recipient. Seven just slapped Andrew.
“Keep your eyes open. Watch. Her. Before you die, you need to know that she was always perfect. The problem was always you. You are the failure. You are the one who doesn't know how to touch a woman and keep her happy. You destroyed her life because you are a fuck up. Watch how responsive she is. Look at what you could have had, you fucking fool.”
There is malice in Andrew's gaze as it meets mine. And the part of me that my masters have twisted beyond repair loves it because there isn't a goddamn thing he can do to me now. It hurt every time he called me frigid, every time he acted as though there was something wrong and broken with me that I couldn't come with him. And I don't just mean on the inside, I mean at all. I couldn't come at all with him. And now he's getting a front row seat to the truth and what he could never have.
Maybe it should bother me more that he's watching this, but he's seen me naked hundreds of times. He's never seen this, though.
“You will not say a single word while this is happening,” Seven tells Andrew. “Otherwise, we'll keep you alive longer, and trust me when I say you don't want that.”
Declan strokes between my legs, pushing two large fingers inside me. He rubs my inner walls, knowing exactly how and where to touch me. And then Seven joins him, and he kisses me, his hand gripped possessively around my neck while Declan continues his relentless finger fucking. It doesn't take long for me to come. They've trained me too well. Seven pulls back to allow my screams of pleasure to fill the abandoned factory.
Declan doesn't stop until I beg him, pleading that I can't take anymore.
“What do you say to me?” he asks, still gently fondling me, not ready to stop yet.
“Thank you, Master,” I say on a sated sigh. I give him this without shame or fear. He pulls his hand away, pressing his wet fingers into my mouth. I suck on them without prompting.
“Such a good girl,” he soothes, stroking my hair.
I can only whimper in reply.
When I come down off this high, I open my eyes and look over at Andrew. I expect to see shock or disgust on his face. But instead, I see raw lust and anger, as though I had been somehow selfishly withholding this from him all this time.
My gaze shifts to Seven. He's standing next to Andrew again, but he's watching me.
“Take her to the car,” Seven says.
Declan lifts the ropes binding my arms off the hook. I'd lost track of how much that hurt, hanging there, but now I'm newly aware. He unties the ropes and rubs my wrists, then he brings each one to his lips, kissing the chafed skin. He lifts me up and carries me out of the factory. The sun has disappeared behind the trees, and I shiver against the chill in the air.
He settles me in the car and takes off his suit jacket and puts it on me. He takes a first aid kit out of the glove box and rubs an aloe gel into my wrists where the ropes rubbed me raw in my struggle.
Classical music flows into the car as he turns the key in the ignition. He turns the heat on.
“Stay,” he orders.
I nod. Why would I run now?
14
I watch the clock on the dash as it marches on. Two hours pass before Declan returns to the car. In the glare of the headlights I can see his shirt is covered in blood. I'm surprisingly horrified by this. I knew they were monsters. But I've never seen it in this visceral, violent way before. He and Seven just spent all this time torturing a man to death while I sat out in the car in the dark. This is what they have inside them.
As bad as Andrew was, it still twists something in my gut to know the amount of suffering he just endured. It's so stupid because he had every intention to carve me up like a turkey. Declan takes off the bloody shirt, pops the trunk, and stuffs it inside before getting into the driver's side.
He starts to pull out of the huge parking lot.
“Wait... what about Seven?”
“He's doing clean up and disposal. He'll meet us back at the house later.”
I almost ask how the hell he'll do that if we take the car but then I realize he's going to take Andrew's car... and get rid of it.
We drive silently away from the meat-packing plant and onto a lonely abandoned road. I'm lost deep in thought. I was with Andrew for two years. I thought he was an asshole, a piece of shit. Was he also a sociopath? It's so tempting to try to shift him into that category. He was going to torture me to death. I have no doubt of that.
We want to believe every violent terrible person is crazy. We want to believe every sociopath is a crazed violent lunatic. But I'm not sure if that's true. We want to believe that there’s a special category of not-really-human who does bad things and that we can never be in that category because we’re sane. We’re real people, and they are not.
