My little curse doesn't acknowledge my presence, just leans forward. "Now fuck him," she instructs. "Hard enough that he feels it tomorrow. And the day after."
"I can't—I've never—" The guy’s voice breaks, his hands shaking as they grip Ashford's hips.
"Figure it out," Brynn says, pointing her gun at his kneecap. "Or I redesign your leg."
The guy thrusts forward his semi-erect limb, horror etched on his face, but not even close to the one on Ashford’s. He screams, his face contorting, tears streaming down his cheeks as the larger guy enters him, in an attempt to save his own life.
"Who's above you?" Brynn demands, leaning closer to them. "Who gives the orders?"
Ashford still says nothing, the faint sound of bodies slapping together dominating the room.
"Harder," Brynn orders the guy, whose face is a mix of revulsion and terror. "Make him feel what those girls felt, or I swear I’ll make you switch."
“I can’t get it hard enough,” the man pumping into Ashford whines like the little bitch he really is, still moving his hips like his life depends on it.And guess what? It does.
“Then I’ll keep you both here until you make it happen. I don’t care if it takes until tonight, tomorrow morning, or two fucking days.” Brynn threatens, and I can see the large guy closing his eyes, probably imagining his fucked up version of a proper sex scene.
“Ashford...” she asks again, punctuating his name.
More grunting, more gasping, but no real word about what we want.
Soon, Ashford’s groans grow louder, his slumped dick hitting against the desk as the guy behind him pumps faster and faster, a prisoner now to his fantasy.Well, I’ll be damned.
Ashford looks like he’s going to faint any second, screams of pain barely muffled, but his words still defy us. "I won't tell you anything."
"Really?" Brynn sounds almost amused. "Well then, let's try something else." A pause, then: "You, I didn’t get your name.”
“Ray,” the man behind Ashford answers through gritted teeth, without even opening his eyes.
“Okay, Ray. Grab his cock."
"What?" Both men's voices unite in horror.
"You heard me," Brynn says. "Help him relax. Stroke him while you fuck him. I want him to enjoy this. You seem to be." She can’t hold back a chuckle as the young woman beside her looks like she’s ready to grab the popcorn. “Consider it my gift. Neither of you cared about bringing satisfaction to the women you abused. But I’m feeling generous today. Call me your guardian angel,” Brynn’s eyes move to me to catch the pride inmy gaze. She’s as twisted as I suspected, and I live for every second of it. “Now, grab his dick before I decide to shoot both of your junks off. And you’d better pray I get it on first try.”
Ray definitely wants to live, so he grabs Ashford’s cock, pushing the saggy skin back in a single expert move.
"No!" Ashford's voice breaks with genuine terror. "Don't touch me there!” He tries to get away, but Ray plants a large hand on his back, holding him in place as he fucks harder into him, one arm wrapped around Ashford, fingers locked on his small limp cock.
The image is hard to watch, and I’ve seen a lot of twisted things in my existence. But I’m starting to consider keeping this guy, Ray, around. He’s definitely the most efficient torture tool to use on any enemy. Because it’s then that Ashford realizes he has no way out, and that eventually he’s going to come at the hands of his friend, who surprisingly, looks like he’s going to finish soon.
“Fuck, I'll tell you! I'll tell you, okay! It's Senator James McAllister! It's fucking McAllister!" he groans as Raymond speeds up, trapping him completely against the desk and his body.
I go still, the name, the last one I’d hoped to hear. McAllister is also one of the Valiants, a regular at Kharon for the past five years. He’s the one who kept an eye on me and was asking too many questions as I was trying to get Brynn out. A nosy, self-centered motherfucker with enough connections to make this a hundred times more complicated than I suspected.
"Interesting," Brynn says, amused. "You endured being fucked against your will, but the threat of a man giving you a handjob is what broke you." Her laugh is cold, almost deranged. "You men are all the same. Truth time, Ashford. Tell me everything about McAllister's involvement, or I'll have him stroke you until you come like the hypocritical piece of shit you are."
I lean against the wall, processing this new information. I suspected other Valiants were involved, but it was difficult to follow every one of them without a solid piece of information. There are a few regulars, but in total, I’m looking at around forty people over the last ten years. All influential, and all with enough resources to pose a threat.
McAllister’s involvement explains so much. His political connections, his wealth. But if he's involved, this conspiracy runs deeper than I imagined. The Senate Intelligence Committee, defense contracts, international connections—McAllister has his fingers in all of them. It could be anything.
I check my watch. Ten minutes since Brynn began her unusual, but very effectiveinterrogation.Just in timefor my men to step in. Ian, one of my main security experts, has already passed the reception and texted he’s coming this way. I step outside for a second and catch him right as he’s heading toward the door.
"We're going to have two guests leaving shortly," I inform him. "Prepare the van."
As Ian leaves to comply, I hear Ashford, broken and defeated, though not revealing any other useful information, except that McAllister has an unhealthy fixation on Kharon. That gets me thinking there could be a connection between the uniform Brynn said Elias was wearing and this guy’s obsession.
Brynn has done her job well. I can hear her keep pushing him, but I don’t think she’s going to get much more out of him.
