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In the distant interior of the building the faint but familiar sound of a gagged man trying to call for help echoed toward us.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked, turning to Drake with wide-eyed surprise.
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand.
The warehouse stank of rust, dirt, and mildew. Beneath our feet, the grittiness of the concrete floor made scratching hissing sounds as we walked. The further we walked into the building the more I noticed an electric glow at the center. Some type of lighting had been set up. Through old-world shelving, I finally caught sight of it. Three large portable spotlights had been set up. Drake led me around the shelves, and at last I saw what he’d surprised me with.
A man. He sat tied to a chair, thrashing and bucking at the zip ties and ropes that bound him. Tears, snot, and sweat smeared his face. When he saw us round the corner, he screamed, his shout muffled by a thick gag. The fabric had been tied so tight that his cheeks were pulled taut, unable to actually close his mouth.
“Who is he?” I asked, already feeling the electric tingle of excitement dancing across my skin.
Drake put a hand on my back and leaned in close. “His name is Judah Milroy. I’ve actually been looking for him for some time. An American expat who came to Europe after his crimes were discovered back home.”
I eyed the man, his intense gaze locking on mine. He wanted help, had assumed that when I showed up, I’d try and save him, try and fight Drake. Whatever he saw in my eyes must have told him his savior was nowhere in sight. After a few seconds, he flinched away, screaming out for help again, this time more fervently.
“What did he do?” I hissed, teeth gritting. My fingers ached to hold a knife.
“He was a multi-year volunteer as youth camp counselor at a Methodist church summer camp. He enjoyed girls and boys alike, and must have decided that was the best place to find his prey. By the time victims came forward, he’d molested and raped nearly thirty-two children, ages eight to twelve. His father had money, lots of it. Bought him all the best lawyers.” Drake walked over to the man and began to untie his gag. “Even Daddy’s money couldn’t stop the victims from telling their stories. Apparently our man Judah was very good at intimidation, gaslighting, and coercion. It seems that when things looked incredibly bleak, Judah’s lawyers asked for house arrest until the end of the trial. The judge agreed, but he had to turn over his passport. As you and I know, however, new passports are easy to come by when you have money.
“He ran and came to Europe. The father told the authorities that he’d attacked him; the pictures were very believable.” Drake leaned down to speak directly to Judah. “Did you and Daddy plan it out? Hit me here and here, but not there? Not too much blood but not too little?”
“You don’t understand,” the man said, mouth finally free of the gag. “Please, you’ve got the wrong guy. My name is Charles. Charles Craig. I don’t know who this Judah person is. Please.”
“Yes, yes,” Drake muttered. “Charles Craig, a pretty well-made false identity, but you’re not as smart as you think. Probably never been told no in your life, have you, Judah? Daddy’s money bought you all you ever wanted. You probably thought those kids belonged to you. Well, you fucked up when you used one of your old usernames on a porn site. You see, I’ve been looking for you, and had all those usernames set to ping me if they were used. Honestly, Interpol and the FBI more than likely were notified as well, but,” Drake shook his head sadly, “bureaucracy is a slow churning beast. Jurisdiction, cross organization planning, extradition? All things that have to be figured out. You’d have had at least two or three days before they found you. Imagine my surprise when the IP address of the username showed you were right here. Less than ten miles from where my lovely lady and I were vacationing.”
Judah stared at Drake in wide eyed horror, swallowing convulsively. There was understanding in his eyes. The dark pitiless pools of Drake’s own eyes gave the man no comfort, so he turned to me again.
“Ma’am, please? You have to help me. He’s crazy. He kidnapped me. You have to help?”
I glared at him. Drake was always right. This man was guilty of everything, and most likely more. The rich little fuck had probably raped girls in high school and molested kids for years. Cruising through life thinking he was untouchable.
Instead of answering the man, I turned to Drake and smiled. “This is the best gift ever. Thank you, babe.”
The man’s face went slack with shock, and he gaped at us as Drake walked over, pulled me close, and kissed me.
Drake’s body pressed into mine, the heat of his mouth and the thought of what I was about to do made my head spin. My pussy throbbed as his tongue slid into my mouth, and I imagined sliding a blade into the man next to us.
When he pulled away from me, I moaned, wishing we could continue. That thought was pushed aside when he went a few feet and pulled an old dirty tarp off of a table. What I saw there filled me with excitement. Several knives, a hammer, a screwdriver, and what looked a bit like a bolt cutter, but the blades were curved rather than straight.
“Do you approve?” Drake asked, gesturing to the items.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, and anyone listening might have thought I was talking about some diamond jewelry.
“No,” Judah screamed and thrashed harder. “Please.” His shout echoed through the building, but I’d seen the area we were in. There was no one around to hear him.
Drake beckoned me over, and I joined him, running a finger across the bolt cutter-like tool. “What is this?”
“Cable cutters. Made for cutting through copper and steel cables. Up to two inches thick.” He shrugged. “It was what they had lying around here. I was in a hurry and couldn’t get any fresh tools for you.”
I caressed his cheek. “They’re perfect.”
My body thrummed with energy and excitement. It had been so long since I’d punished. So many days and weeks since I’d been able to bask in the cacophony of suffering. I felt like an addict who’d gone cold turkey and now a dealer had shown up with exactly what I needed.
Lifting the cable cutters, I held it out at arm’s length. The twenty-four-inch handles ended in two wickedly curved blades. When I opened and closed them a few times, I heard and felt the rust and dirt inside grinding. These had not been used in a long time. They needed to be oiled. Maybe blood would be a good lubricant?
Judah looked like a cornered animal as I stepped toward him. The acrid smell of piss hit my nose, and a stream patterned to the ground beneath his seat.
“Ugh,” I said. “Why do they always piss themselves?”
