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Will he still look at me the same? Does doing this make me just as bad as DuGray? Will this ruin me? Ruin us?
Should I be the better person and just kill him?
“Case?” I startle just as Jake wraps his fingers around the back of my neck. “You okay?”
“I just - what does this make me?”
“What? Hurting him?” I nod, my throat suddenly feeling too tight to speak. “It doesn’t make you anything, baby boy. But if it heals you? If it gives you closure? Then do it. We’re all here for you.”
I stare at the row of instruments hanging from the hooks on the wall. The one in the middle is what I was coming for. If I drop the end of the bench where it has a hinge, I can attach these to his balls and let them hang so it weighs them down. He only ever did three of them on me, but he owns ten. I was curious how many it’d take before he’d give in and apologize. I know the night he did the three on me, I passed out and woke up covered in my own vomit. I couldn’t feel them for a week after, and there were tiny dots of blood around the area where the skin had threatened to rip.
Then I was going to yank on them as hard as I could and see if I could pull his sack right off.
And while he slowly - or quickly? I’m not entirely sure how the human body works - bled out, I was going to carve two words into his chest. My happy ending. My battle cry.
What would Jake think of me then?
What would I think of me?
“Is he scared?” DuGray asks, laughing hoarsely. “I told you, esclave. You’re weak. Worthless. I’m right here, you stupid slut! I’m right here and you can’t even do it, can you?”
Someone shuts him up, doing something to him that makes him wail in pain. I look into Jake’s eyes. “What if you don’t love me after?”
He smiles, laughing a little under his breath. “Nothing will ever make me stop loving you, little one. I’m in this.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” And he doesn’t break those. “You have three choices - you can do what you planned, you can let us do it for you, or we can kill him right now and head home.”
I look over at DuGray. The man who stole everything from me. Who made me into something that wasn’t human. He grins at me, teeth slick with blood. They removed the rest of his tape. “The first time I fucked you, you were so strong. So brave. You fought so hard your wrists and ankles bled from the restraints. You screamed until you had blood coming out of your mouth. And your hole-” he shakes his head, whistling. “But do you remember the night I broke you? It took longer than most, I’ll give you that. You put up a fight. You made me work for it. Do you remember?”
The sharp scent of lavender and spices from his cologne. The metallic tang of blood that’s been lingering on my tongue since Raph fucked my mouth with his gun. Electric zaps of pain shooting through my body, too many parts of me injured to pinpoint where it’s even coming from anymore. It could be my back seeping blood from when they used a cheese grater on it. Or my hole that was impossibly stretched around something I couldn’t identify, held inside by a pole from the floor. Or my puffy, bleeding nipples weighed down until they were a breath away from ripping off. Maybe it was coming from my balls, crushed between plates so hard I threw up when he originally did it. Or my caged cock with a spiked sound stuffed inside the slit. Or the soles of my feet, caned until they no longer felt like feet, making me have to lean most of my weight back against the pole attached to whatever was in my hole.
“Are you ready yet, esclave? Do you understand your place now?
“Ah, you do remember,” he says, his voice just as low and amused as that night. “You broke so beautifully for me, esclave. How long do you think it’d take for me to break you again?”
“Probably not long,” I admit, that memory lingering a little too close for my liking. I can taste the metal. Can feel the echoes of pain. It’s easy then, coming to my decision. “But that doesn’t matter because I’m the one in charge tonight. So, I guess I should ask - how long do you think it’ll take for me to break you?”
Chapter Forty-Six
Jake
My boy is violently shaking by the time he takes a step away from DuGray. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, his hand holding the knife we gave him a few minutes ago trembling so hard I don’t know how he has a grip on it. Especially considering the blood all over it.
The words WE WON are carved into DuGray’s naked chest and stomach, drops of blood trickling from the wobbly letters. The leather restraints kept him as still as they could while Casey worked, but it’s harder than one might think to write with a knife on skin.
It’s not the only source of blood coming from the man on the bench. His body is covered in it. His nipples are practically ripped off, Casey using a cheese grater - something I don’t even want to fucking know why was here, let alone why Casey wasn’t surprised to find it - on them. He also used that particular instrument on his cock. DuGray stopped talking altogether after that, just blinking dazedly up at the ceiling. He still made plenty of noise when Casey started adding weights to his balls, though.
After four weights - and some violent convulsing - he had turned his glazed eyes on Casey and slurred an apology. It was wrong. What I did to you. You’re not a slave. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please just fucking kill me.
Casey had asked if he remembered when Casey begged for that. For death. If he remembered ignoring him. Then he proceeded to ignore DuGray, continuing to add weight.
He ran out of weights to use on the man’s balls after ten, the scrotum pulled so far down it looks fucking fake now. That’s when he started carving the words. It’s also when DuGray passed out.
“How do we wake him up?” he asks, his voice shaking just as bad as his body.
Travis and I exchange a look before Travis says, “We have sniffing salts. If those don’t work, I have adrenaline.”
