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Rape. Torture. Mutilation. Death.
Tears fill my eyes. I can’t help myself.
He said he’d send Joshua videos every day. He wants this to last. That means he won’t kill me right away.
Oh God, Joshua, come for me. Please find me. Please. Will Joshua still want me after I shot him in the foot? After I tried to escape? Don’t abandon me, Joshua, please…
Micah looks down at me with his alien eyes. “You shouldn’t have turned me down, Tamara. If you’d gone home with me that night, I would probably have screwed you and forgotten you. But instead I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I realized that Joshua might find you as intriguing as I did. And you’d be the perfect weapon to get back at him.”
He walks over to the tray and pulls on a black ski mask that obscures his face. He’s thought ahead. Joshua won’t be able to take this video to the police to use against Micah.
Stiff and helpless, I can do nothing but watch as he turns on the camera and fiddles around on the tray. Then he comes over with a wad of something wet and cold and rubs it across my right nipple. I smell a whiff of something astringent; he’s sterilizing my nipple.
He grabs something from the tray; it’s an alarmingly thick steel needle, and it’s attached to some kind of silver jewelry.
“Hold still now,” he says to me. “This is going to hurt like a bitch.”
He presses it against my left nipple, then very slowly pushes it through. I go rigid with pain, grinding my teeth so I don’t scream. It feels as if my nipple is being pinched with red-hot pliers, and he draws it out for way longer than necessary. I know people who’ve had their nipples pierced; they said it was one quick pinch and then it was over. Micah’s doing everything possible to make this agonizing for me. Then he does some kind of clamping thing that hurts so much that tears spill onto my cheeks.
I look down and see that there’s a silver barbell screwed through my nipple.
He repeats the process with my right nipple, using a fresh needle. Then, when he’s got the barbell affixed, he twists it, and I let out a shriek of pain. “How does that feel, Tamara? Do you like it?” I don’t answer, so he twists the left nipple too. “What was that? I didn’t hear you!”
“No!” I scream, panting from the pain. “No, I don’t like it!”
“What a shame. Maybe you’ll like it better when I do it to your pussy.”
I close my eyes as he rubs something cold on my clit, then grit my teeth and go rigid with pain as he shoves a needle through it.
He fumbles with the needle. When I glance down, I see that there’s a big dangling ring there. He reaches down and pinches my tender flesh, wrenching another scream from me.
He looks at the camera. “Wasn’t that fun, Joshua? I’ve got all the time in the world. I’m going to make her mine, and I’m going to mark every inch of her body. I notice that you never fucked her in the ass. Thank you for that. I look forward to popping that cherry. And in the end, of course, I’m going to kill her in ways that will make even you weep and vomit. Will that be in a week? A month? Will she still be sane by then, or will she be a gibbering monkey? I know the answer to those questions, but no spoilers here, my friend.”
He avoided saying brother. He’s hiding his identity.
He unstraps my wrist and ankle cuffs and snaps his fingers at me. “Up.”
I slide off the chair, wincing at the pain that pulses from each of my new piercings.
“Now I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. And if you don’t, I’ll peel your friend’s face off with a cheese grater.”
Well, he sure knows how to put a girl in the mood.
And he’s still wearing the mask.
He gathers me in his arms and pulls me up against him. Reluctantly, I press my lips against his and open my mouth for him. I let him slide his tongue across mine, and force down my gag reflex. I try to pretend he’s Joshua, but it doesn’t work, and all I want to do is bite his tongue off. If I had a better idea of what was on the other side of that door, I’d do it.
He pulls back, shaking his head. “Poor performance there, Tamara.” He slides his fingers between my legs, rubbing them back and forth. I shudder at his touch and start to step back, but he grabs my arm and holds me in place. There’s no point in fighting; that’s what he wants from me. I just stand there, gritting my teeth, and endure it as he saws into my pussy with his fingers. “You’re not even wet for me. Your cunt’s drier than the Sahara. That makes me sad. Heather, now, she positively drips with excitement for me. She hates herself for it, of course, which makes it even more fun.”
I don’t answer. I just stare down at the floor.
“By the way, there was one room that Joshua took you into that didn’t have cameras in it.” He leaves his fingers there between my legs, wedged between the folds of my pussy, as he talks. Revulsion curdles my stomach, and I struggle not to vomit up the Gatorade. “You went in there for hours every day. What was in there? Another torture room?”
I’m confused. There’s only one place that I can think of. “You mean…the exercise room?”
“Ah, of course. Joshua likes his women fit. He would want you to have a perfect body.” He pulls his fingers from between my legs and runs his hand up my flat, muscular stomach. “Mission accomplished.”
He drops the hand that was holding my arm. I hug myself and look away, keeping my face blank, but my mind is racing. Hedoesn’tknow about the Krav Maga and the sparring. We talked about it outside the room occasionally, but not that often, and Micah probably didn’t listen to every conversation that Joshua and I ever had. So it’s possible he never heard us discuss our daily practice sessions. Even if he did hear us mention it, apparently he doesn’t know the extent of my training. He must have thought we were just play-fighting, just part of our exercise routine, like Boxercise classes. He doesn’t realize that I trained every single day for months.
