Waiting in the Throes

Chapter 19: Visitors Visited

I woke up to the sounds of Al moving around the room. Through the curtains, I could see the beginnings of a hazy, grey and humid day beginning. Al turned around from whatever he was doing and offered a soft, close-lipped smile.

“Morning,” he greeted, keeping his voice hushed. It had been a little over a month since the drive-in. It was the beginning of August and my four month ‘anniversary’ was approaching. Since I had passed the test my captors had given me, no mention had been made of Jason and Richard and I had begun to think that the promise of a road trip to see them had just been an elaborate ruse created to see how much they could control me. Still, for the past month, Jason’s words had rung in my ears Bide your time, be smart and wait until you know you can run… Make them think they are breaking you down. There was no making them think, they had broken me down. I couldn’t afford to take stupid risks anymore… but I had a chance to run– a much better chance to run now than ever before. I could survive a little while longer… long enough to get on the road to Richard’s house, which would give me my chance. As a result, I had numbly done everything asked of me; submitted to Phil’s cruel bedroom games, played the perfect submissive lover for Al, all in the hopes that my compliance would eventually buy me a chance at freedom. I was so afraid of them snatching it away that I had endured everything. Al sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at me.

“It’s early,” he said. Usually that was my cue– permission to go back to sleep.

“Washroom,” I croaked, and he nodded. He went to the bathroom where I knew he kept the keys for the anklet that kept me tethered to the bed at night and came back a moment later, stooping to un-cuff my foot. I freed myself from the tangle of sheets and stumbled to the bathroom, hissing at the cold tile before composing myself enough to quickly empty my bladder and return to bed. As I crawled under the sheets again, Al sat down on the edge of the bed again.

“You want a shower?” he asked. It struck me as an odd question but I brushed it off, curling onto my side in the soft sheets. He knew what was left on my skin each night.

“No, I want to go back to sleep,” I said tiredly, already closing my eyes once again. After months with him I was sure he would let me.

“You sure?”

“Yes– just let me sleep,” I grumbled.

“Okay, but we’re going to be awhile in the car.”

My eyes shot open just as I felt the tell-tale prick of a needle in my thigh. My eyes fell on a suitcase perched on the chair in the corner for a second before flickering back to Al’s face. Jason’s words were the last part of the puzzle before darkness took me:

I think he drugs me sometime before I wake up. I usually wake up blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back, in the back of the car with no idea where I am or how long we’ve been on the road.

My face felt warm on one side and it was dark. Bits and pieces started to fit themselves into place. I was in a moving vehicle and my limbs were cramped and uncomfortable, but my arms were not tied behind my back– they were bound in front of me. The radio station betrayed that we had crossed state lines into Vermont. And my bladder was screaming at me for relief. From the front seat, I could hear my jailors talking casually.

“Al?” I croaked. Both men fell silent and I could hear and feel the shifting of the person in the passenger seat from my position on the floor in the back of what I figured, was the SUV.

“Hey,” he greeted and I heard the click of a seatbelt being undone, the warning ping of the car’s seatbelt system before a hand came down to lightly touch the top of my head.

“I need to go the bathroom,” I said pathetically. I heard Phil sigh from the driver’s seat.

“Hey, you knew this was coming,” Al replied to his partner before turning his attentions to me again, “Hold on a minute, Phil just needs to get pulled over.” A few seconds passed and I felt the car start to slow down before the low rumble of tires on gravel reverberated up through my spine.

Run, run now! Yeah, remember how well that worked out for you the last time you ran and couldn’t see? I listened to the stillness as the car came to rest at the side of the road and Al got out of the car and opened the door I was leaning against, catching me quickly as I tipped backwards. He pulled me to my feet and I stumbled, hands tied in front of me, unable to see.

“We can take the blindfold off can we not?” Al called into the truck to Phil. There was an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, but he’s staying on the floor of the car, the less he sees, the better, we’re close enough anyway.” No sooner had Phil consented than I could feel the fabric over my face start to fall away. I closed my eyes in anticipation of the bright sun before very slowly cracking them open again and looking around. We were at the side of what looked like a country road. It wasn’t busy and both sides of the road were bordered with overgrown fields and woody looking areas.

“Where are we?” I asked without really expecting any sort of answer.

“Another twenty minutes or so from Richard’s place,” Al said, voice straining as he stretched his arms over his head. He brought a hand down to the small of my back and gave me a gentle push towards the ditch.

“So hurry up,” he prompted. I took a couple of tentative steps forward and glanced over my shoulder to see Phil undoing his seatbelt, ready to grab me if I ran. I fumbled with the jeans someone had put me in before finally freeing myself enough to go relieve myself without pissing all over and stared ahead into the field. It was obviously someone’s property and was fenced off and though the fence was low, there was no chance of me making it over easily, and with no goal of a house or building anywhere in sight, running wasn't worth the risk. And then there was Jason.

What if I run and they do something to him? The thought was stomach churning. I was going to have to make my move on the way home.

Richard’s house was located on a private road– at least that’s what I could figure from where I sat on the floor of the car. The trees stretched up, mature and tall, filtering the light from the bright day into columns illuminating the ground below. Phil navigated the road slowly, Al directing him as we got closer and closer to our destination. Finally the car took one final turn, travelled a short distance and came to a surprisingly slow, smooth stop. My heart thrummed nervously in anticipation of seeing Jason one last time. Before it is every man for himself and you run off… you selfish asshole. I quickly pushed my secondary thought away. I had no idea how long Phil and Al were planning on staying. I had to make the most of the one positive thing about that. Phil killed the ignition and got out of the car at the same time as Al, leaving me alone and without the fear of immediate repercussions, I slowly eased myself up off the floor and onto the backseat.

The house was impressive to say the least, as much as I did not want to admit it. Somehow it managed to occupy the space between a Chalet-style and Cape-cod style home with surprising balance. The entire house was dark blue siding, except for the garage, which was elaborate stone work. White shutters and a red front door made the house look pleasant, clean and inviting, but I knew better. The house was about appearances, a cloak over a chamber of horror. This was where Jason was kept. This is where Richard the monster raped and tortured his victim. This was Jason’s white farmhouse. Like the farmhouse, the house was on a large piece of land with no neighbors as far as I could see from my position in the truck, but that may have been an illusion created by the trees that made up much of the property.

The front door opened and Richard emerged alone. I watched Phil walk towards the front steps and heard the muffled sounds of the two men greeting each other, watched Al wave from where he stayed closer to the car. My entire body buzzed with nerves, like an electrical current was humming through me. I was no longer in familiar territory. At the farmhouse I knew I was in the middle of nowhere, I knew what would happen to me if I misbehaved, I knew what to expect of Phil and Al and when to expect it… here things would going to be different, terrifyingly different. The car door opened beside me suddenly and I jumped.

“Hey, let’s go inside,” Al greeted, “give me your hands.” I twisted in the seat and thrust my wrists at him silently and waited while he released my hands from the cable tie confining them. Then I eased myself from the car and onto the gravel drive. Al guided my path with an arm wrapped around my lower back. I walked slowly, eyes downcast because I didn’t want to look to the two men on the porch. I was finally forced to look up when Richard greeted me.

“Hello Brennan,” he said politely, like he was an old family friend. I slowly pulled my eyes up from the porch floorboards to Richard’s chin, enough to make it look like I was looking at his face.

“Hi,” I managed to mumble in reply.

“Jason is inside,” Richard said, answering the question I had managed to bite off before asking.

“Shall we?” Richard invited, his arm gesturing towards the slightly ajar front door. Inside the house was clean; a level of clean even higher than Phil kept the farmhouse. No wonder the two men got along so well.

“Let me show you where your rooms and bathroom are,” Richard said politely, the perfect host. Al held onto my hand the same way he had at the theatre, pleasant looking to anyone who was watching but deceptively firm. God the drive-in. It felt like that night had occurred years ago, though it had been little over a month. I followed, taking in the muted paint colours, the tasteful artwork. It was hard to believe Richard was, for all appearances, a single straight man. Then again, he was also portraying himself as the quiet widower. Anyone who visited him would probably assume most of the décor was left over from the days when his wife was still alive. I saw no trace of Jason and my stomach began to coil itself into a tight knot.

“I didn’t know how you wanted to arrange everything, and I have plenty of space in the house if you prefer, but I thought you would like this instead,” Richard said, coming to a stop in between the kitchen and living room at a set of double glass doors, “I figured you would like some privacy though and this seemed like the best option.” He opened a door and revealed a large, open space that seemed endless where it bordered the woods. Richard slipped out from behind Phil, Al and I where we had stopped on the stone slab patio and walked towards the white outbuilding directly across the fairy expansive lawn from the doors.

“Rich, you didn’t have to–” Phil began with humility and Richard waved a hand dismissively to cut him off before pulling a set of keys from his pocket and unlocking the double doors of the small, cottage-like structure. Phil casually strolled across the lawn and Al followed, pulling me along with him. When Rich opened the double doors I balked, my slow brain putting two and two together. What I had originally thought was a workshop, was a modest, but new-looking guesthouse. When we stepped inside the room revealed a sofa and two wicker chairs facing a small, wall-mounted television. On the opposite wall was a small breakfast bar with a coffee maker and a bar sink, and right in the middle of the room, was a huge King-sized bed. I couldn’t supress the tremor that wracked through my frame.

“The bathroom isn’t huge, but it’s right through that door,” Richard said, gesturing to a door I hadn’t noticed, nestled in the corner a few feet from the bed, “It has a stand-up shower and fresh towels, but if you need anything, or prefer a bath, just let me know or come on in to the house.”

“Rich this is perfect,” Al said politely, “when did you build this?”

“I started working on it last year– remember that pile of wood in the backyard?”

Al let out a low whistle.

 “I can’t believe you got this up before the snow,” he replied.

“Well, I did– but I just finished painting and all of that a month ago, I wanted to surprise you guys when you got here, especially after I got the call that your evening out was a success.” At the mention of the night of me and Al’s ‘date’ my head snapped up.

“Well it looks amazing,” Al replied. Rich smiled and clasped his hands together.

“Well, I will let you get settled while I go and get some food ready, I know it’s a little late for lunch, but I figured you wouldn’t really be stopping,” Richard said, eyes casting over to me for a few seconds.

“That sounds great,” Phil said, “I’ll follow you in, get our bags out of the truck.” Richard nodded and Phil turned back to Al.

“You want to grab a shower or something?” he asked Al, looking pointedly at me.

“Yeah, that sounds great, I feel like smell kinda funky from sitting in that car for so long,” he joked, then looked to Richard, “See you inside?”

“Absolutely, take your time, I think Jason needs to freshen up as well.” I knew the addition of Jason had been added for my benefit, or torture depending on how one wanted to look at it.

A minute later Al and I stood alone in the open room. He dropped my hand and gave me a gentle push in the direction of the “bedroom” area of the room. I stayed away from the bed, feeling a twinge of pain writhe deep in my core. My existence for the foreseeable future was limited to about three hundred square feet of living space with a bed that would easily fit me and both of my captors.

“Let’s go take a shower,” he said, vocalizing what he wanted. I nodded and moved towards the door to the small bathroom, staying as far from the bed as was possible.

Hands caressed my hips and I flinched, barely controlling the urge to step away from Al under the heavy stream of water. It smelled different here, crisp and mineral and made my skin feel slick and slimy when the soap hit it.

“You’re so sexy,” a voice purred in my ear as one arm wrapped around my hips, pulling me close, erection bumping against my thigh. The action set me off balance and I slapped a hand out to the shower wall to keep steady. Through the heavy stream of water I could hear Phil moving around in the main room of the guesthouse, organizing things. I tried to breathe normally, not react.

“I can’t wait until tonight, you and me and Phil… that nice big bed.” A violent tremor raced through me at the thought. Two sets of hands touching me, two people with insatiable sexual appetites and no escape from them. Minutes passed, and I stayed completely silent. My own self-control amazed me.

“Let’s do your hair,” Al finally said softly.

I fidgeted nervously where I sat on the sofa in Richard’s living room, in between Al and Phil. My nerves felt like they were in a tight coil at the base of my spine. I chewed on my fingernails until Phil grabbed my hand and pulled away from my mouth, hissing at me to stop. When Richard entered the room with Jason my chest immediately tightened. He looked almost exactly the same except something was wrong, something in the way he moved, the way he held himself. Something was irreversibly changed about him. It sent a shudder of fear down my spine. What had Richard done to him?

Richard lightly pushed Jason into a chair and he stumbled before landing in the seat, wincing as he did. He stared at his hands, not even looking up. I couldn’t rip my eyes from him. He was so much thinner than the last time I had seen him. His cheekbones stood out sharply, underneath them shadowed and sallow. He looked like he’d been sick for a long time. Like a cancer patient, except with more hair.

“I’ll go grab everything, we can eat in here,” Richard said pleasantly, “If you don’t mind watching Jason for a moment.”

“Can I give you a hand?” Phil asked.

“I don’t mind watching Jason,” Al inserted. It was then, while all three men were momentarily preoccupied that Jason hazarded a glance my way, offering a weak, close lipped grimace that was supposed to resemble a smile. I returned it but neither of us exchanged a word.

“That would be great,” Richard replied to both men, before turning to head for the kitchen, Phil following in his wake.

“So how are you Jason?” Al asked conversationally after about a minute of somewhat awkward silence. Jason’s head swivelled in his direction. He blinked and it seemed like him tongue was tangled in his mouth before he spoke.

“Fine,” he replied, one word, but his voice sounded gravely and hoarse. It was then that Richard and Phil returned.

“We’ve been having some residual discipline issues, haven’t we?” Richard interjected as he re-entered the room, setting a stack of small plates and a platter of sandwiches on the coffee table. Phil followed, a pitcher of Ice Tea and a stack of glasses in hand.

“Oh?” Al inquired. He looked from Richard to Jason and back again.

“What happened?” Phil asked.

“I’ll tell you in detail later, given our somewhat impressionable audience,” Richard said nonchalantly, casting a glance my way, “We wouldn’t want Brennan to get any ideas when he is progressing so well. So I will say we had a severe setback in Jason’s training and he needed to be reminded of what his proper role is within this household.”

And there it was. Jason had done something to provoke Richard. The stone in the pit of my stomach didn’t go away, instead it grew heavier, was joined by butterflies. I desperately wanted to find a way to be alone with Jason, to ask him what had happened. It was impossible to tell if it was something so simple as disobeying a request in the bedroom, or something much worse.

“Help yourselves,” Richard invited as Phil sat down again on the sofa beside me. I had no appetite. Jason on the other hand, practically lunged at the food, his reach for a plate a mere afterthought.

“I am exhausted,” Phil complained as he stepped into the guesthouse ahead of me and Al, “I’m going to go grab a shower before we hit the hay.”

The afternoon had passed slowly, agonizingly slow, since Jason and I occupied the same room, but had no way to communicate but for the rare moments of eye contact and casual observations of each other, eyes skimming, sometimes focusing in on one detail, others trying to bring in as much information in as short a period of time as possible. I paid almost no attention to what Richard, Phil and Al were talking about.

Finally I knew one way I could get a few minutes alone with Jason.

“Can I go the washroom?” I blurted. I hated myself for feeling the need to ask permission, but took a certain satisfaction in derailing the conversation the men were having. The room went quiet and Rich turned to Jason.

“Prove to me I can trust you again,” he said coldly. Jason slowly unfolded himself, keeping eye contact with Richard, like he was afraid at any second, the man would snap at him for leaving the chair. Once his feet had touched the ground and was standing in place, he finally looked in my direction. I immediately stood up to follow.

“It’s this way,” he mumbled. I followed him out of the doorway that sat in between the living room and dining room, he looked over his shoulder, tilting his head ever so slightly– no doubt noticing my newly acquired limp . Neither of us said a word as we walked down the hallway, turned down another and entered the bathroom. I was thankful it was somewhat far away from the rest of the rooms. It meant whatever we said was going to be out of ear shot, and we would have plenty of warning about someone barging in. I shut the door behind us, barely looking around the neutral bathroom before we both blurted the same question.

“What happened to you?”

“I tried to run again,” I answered first, figuring explaining my limp was a lot easier than Jason explaining his overall decline, “They decided enough was enough and burned the sole of my foot with an iron.” Jason looked even more ill than he had already been looking. He bit his lower lip and hesitated.

“I tried to poison him.”

The words hung in the air above us, heavy and dark and almost surreal.

“You what?” I said. I had to have had an auditory hallucination, there was no way I had heard what I thought I’d heard.

“I shouldn’t say I tried, I did,” Jason explained. A tingle of sadistic glee started in my stomach until I was reminded that for this act of defiance, Jason must have paid a dear price.

“You… poisoned…” I couldn’t fathom how he would have gotten away with it.

“You’d better go if you really need to,” Jason said, a quick interlude in his story. I nodded and turned around in the direction of the toilet.

“He left some cleaner or some shit under the sink, which normally he doesn’t do– he keeps it in a locked cabinet in the laundry room downstairs. I don’t know why it wasn’t there that time.” Jason explained, voice muted in the small room to keep it from echoing.

“He was stewing something he had caught while out hunting on the stove, the phone rang and he picked it up. I was in the kitchen with him at the time. Most of the time, if we are in the same room, he doesn’t bother to restrain me at all– he could easily catch me before I could get anywhere as you know.” At that Jason looked pained, glancing down at my foot in sympathy where I could see his reflection in the large bathroom mirror.

“He stepped into the living room, I guess for privacy and that’s when I did it– I grabbed the container from under the sink– I’d seen it earlier when he’d opened the cupboard to get some dish soap– and dumped as much as I could into the stew, stirred it in so that he wouldn’t be able to see the difference. Then I put the stuff back under the sink and the spoon back in exactly the right place before he came back.” My eyes widened in disbelief.

“Couldn’t he taste it?” I asked, voice a near whisper, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hall. Jason shrugged.

“I don’t know… the meat may have covered the taste.”

“What about you?”

“I told him I wasn’t feeling well,” Jason supplied. I hurried to put myself back in my pants and turn around.

“What happened?” I asked, my heart pounding like it does when one watches a horror movie, anticipating something bad lurking in the shadows.

“He suspected something was wrong when he started puking up blood,” Jason replied, “and he knew when he realized that it couldn’t be a coincidence that I wouldn’t eat the stew.” I shuddered, a sick, satisfied part of me picturing Richard helpless and ill before once again, I was reminded of the reality that Jason’s plan hadn’t worked. I moved to the sink, turned on the water and kept listening.

“I didn’t add enough.” Jason added the last sentence shakily, “I didn’t add enough and he had time to punish me.” As I wiped my hands on the towel I froze.

“Punish you?”

I was trying to figure out how someone so sick could punish him with any ease.

“He locked me in a room in the basement, before he drove himself to the hospital,” Jason explained, “I was alone, tied to a cot for days. No toilet, no food, nothing– it was like when he first took me. I didn’t know when he was going to come back for me or even if he was going to come back… but he did. I could tell he’d spent the last few days in the hospital. I told him I was sorry, I begged for him to let me out and he told me I hadn’t been punished enough yet. I needed a dose of my own medicine.”

Instantly I knew where this was going.

“After seven days he finally gave me something to eat.”

I wanted to be sick.

“Stew,” I breathed out. Jason nodded, and it was in that silence I heard footsteps in the hallway.

“He wouldn’t give me anything else until I had eaten enough to satisfy him. It had been out on the stove the whole few days. He made me eat until I was sick enough to need medical attention… he treated me at home. Al told him where he could get liquid charcoal to induce vomiting for the chemical, but also told him I probably had food poisoning.” A chill ran down my spine. Al knew what Richard had done. Known it and asked Jason how he was doing.

“When…”

“Almost right after we got back from your place, at most two weeks later” Jason replied, not even conscious of the fact that he had referred to the farmhouse as my place.

“But you’re still…”

“Sick?” Jason interjected. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. I jumped.

“You fall in?” Phil called from the other side of the door, voice stern for something that was supposed to be a joke.

“No, I’m coming,” I called, trying to level out the shaking in my voice.

“Well hurry up already,” Phil called before I heard his footsteps retreat at least a few feet.

For a second neither Jason nor I spoke.

“He’s still doing it… poisoning me,” Jason said, voice low, cautious, “Every once in awhile he feeds me something that makes me sick, just to remind me not to cross him again… I don’t know what to eat, what not to eat, when to trust him. Today was the first time in a long time I have been able to put something in my stomach and know it won’t make me sick. I doubt Al and Phil know about that.”

I glanced back at the door before taking the two quick steps needed to reach Jason and grab the fingertips of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. The door abruptly open and I twisted around quickly, dropping Jason’s hand but it was too late. Phil had already seen.

“Mmm, well Brennan and I showered earlier,” Al replied, “but we can join you if you want…”

My stomach clenched waiting for the other man’s answer, but Phil cast a lazy, lover’s smile at his partner.

“S’ok, I won’t be long,” he replied, leaning over to swipe his lips across his lover’s quickly before disappearing into the bathroom. Al grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of the bed and I resisted.

“I’m not tired,” I mumbled. I wasn’t. My brain was reeling, trying to think of an escape plan, but not just for me– for Jason too. Richard was killing him, not just by deliberately poisoning his food, but by psychologically torturing him. It wasn’t enough to get myself out anymore. I couldn’t do it, wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I got out and Jason didn’t. Sure I could run for help, but who was to say Richard wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of things, or take Jason somewhere before help arrived? My stomach churned at the thought; Jason, alone with all three men, completely at their mercy because I chose to leave him there and save my own skin.

“That’s okay, there are plenty of other things we can do,” he replied suggestively. I tried to pull my hand back from him. If Phil came out of the bathroom he would want to join Al in whatever activity we were engaged in and after what he had seen between me and Jason– as little as it was– was enough to make me afraid of him at least for the night.

“Come on, we’ll get warmed up before we have some fun with Phil,” he purred, pulling me into him, my back pressed against his chest. I tried to pull away but he gripped harder.

“Let’s not let that big bed go to waste.”

***

“What are you thinking about?” Jason’s words punctured the bubble of thought I had been lost in. It was three days later and I was in the face of yet another ‘anniversary’. Four months. It felt like it had been four years. Another anniversary meant the excruciating pain I had experienced the same day every month for the past three months. I had never been able to beg, bargain or fight my way out of it.

“Right now?”

Jason nodded.

“That I really don’t want tonight to come,” I said miserably. He breathed in shakily and brushed the back of his hand against mine, and turned his face to the lawn. We were sitting in an enclosed veranda, locked out of the house, locked in from the yard where Phil, Al and Richard sat by the mid-sized pool, drinking a few beers.

“Because it’s the fourteenth,” Jason said simply. I nodded.

“So you have the despised tradition of celebrating anniversaries as well,” I replied, half question, half statement. Jason shook his head in confirmation. My stomach felt ill as I remembered the date.

“Two days ago…”

“Don’t think about it, it wasn’t that bad,” Jason replied, “I’ve had worse, he’s mellowed over the years.”

We were silent for a few minutes as Richard sauntered closer to the veranda and grabbed a couple of beers from the cooler before turning and heading back to the other two men. Really what I had been thinking about in much more detail was how I was going to escape. I had already memorized all the exits and certain details about the house, chiefly that Rich had an alarm system that indicated whenever a window or door was opened or closed with a brief tone. If I didn’t know where a door led, I wasn’t going to risk using it. I was unsure of what to tell Jason. Part of me desperately wanted to tell him what I was planning, the other part of me nagged, reminded me of all the times I had failed, told me it would be cruel to get his hopes up only to have them crushed. If I tried and failed, it would be best that he knew nothing about any plans I may have to avoid being punished.

“There’s no way out,” Jason said flatly, reading my mind. I sat up, spine ram-rod straight, a chilled sensation dribbling down my spine as I got the sensation he had been inside my head. Jason gave me a wry smile.

“Seriously, what else could you be thinking about so hard?” I nodded in conceit.

“It won’t work, not here,” he said, “You know where you are now, just try and convince them not to drug you on the return trip, at least for the first half– then make your break for it.” I said nothing, all the while thinking about what kind of person I would be if I did nothing to help him.

***

My heart pounded in my ears, my stomach felt like lead. I had backed myself into a corner, stupidly not paying attention to the fact that the bathroom had no lock. I was hunched on the floor, arms locked around my knees trying to breathe. Moments before I had dove from the foot of the bed, in an act of desperation, kicking myself free from the grip Phil had on my ankle before stupidly lunging for the bathroom. I’d slammed the door behind me, catching his fingers in the jam for a few seconds before realizing that the door had no lock. A million miles away I could hear swearing. I had just made everything worse. When Phil stumbled into the bathroom, his gaze was murderous.

“Please… I’m sorry,” I whimpered, drawing in on myself more, wanting to disappear. I was naked already, shaking on the bathroom floor. Phil was still shaking his hand up and down, trying to regulate the blood flow to and from his wounded fingertips. He grimaced into a smile before reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking me across floor, my slick skin squeaking across the tile until I was back out in the bedroom.

“You know what the funny thing is?” he sneered as he leaned down and pulled me up from the floor to toss me onto the bed, “I was going to be nice to you tonight, give you some options, but now, now I know what I want.”

“Hey!” Al said sharply, “Do you forget there are three of us here?” He pulled me almost protectively to him– almost. I knew his guise of protection only extended to the borders of his lust.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t love the feeling of him wrapped around both of us?” Phil asked as he climbed back on the bed, his movements slow, deliberate to calm his partner. He looked over my shoulder, maintaining eye contact with Al as he spoke.

“I do…” Al conceded, “but it hurts him,” he added hesitantly, thumb brushing across my hipbone.

“He can take it, he has taken it,” Phil reasoned, before his eyes flickered to mine, “He likes the way it feels.” I knew what he was implying and nausea was over me. The fact that I couldn’t control my body even after months of abuse made me feel like I had no control at all, worse yet it made me feel like something was seriously wrong with me, deep in some inaccessible spot of my mind. Something I couldn’t fix. Maybe Phil was right.

“Even if there is a little… damage… he’ll heal, you of all people should know that one,” Phil continued when Al made no move to make things progress. Finally after a few seconds of tension, Phil leaned forward and kissed Al then pulled away.

“How about you just watch for now? I’ll show you I can be gentle. You can join when I have him nice and relaxed,” he proposed. I felt Al’s grip around me slacken, slowly releasing me. Phil smirked, clearly pleased with his idea– and what it was doing to me. His version of gentle was way different than mine.

“Go have a seat,” Phil prompted, glancing over his shoulder at one of the cushioned wicker chairs, “you’ll want to have a nice view.” I felt Al move away from behind me completely and watched over my shoulder as he moved to one of the chairs, turning it towards the bed so that he had a perfect view. My eyes flickered back to Phil and I found myself backing away from him, moving towards the edge of the bed Al had just been occupying. He had other ideas. I was yanked back towards the middle of the mattress, Phil maneuvering us into something close to a seated position against the headboard.

“What do you want me to do to him first?” he asked. I watched Al, trying to gauge what kind of mood he was in, trying to plead for him to not draw this out, to just get it over with.

“I want foreplay,” he demanded, bring his hand down to his own erection to give it a few tugs. Phil dipped his head, licking a stripe from my ear to my collarbone before biting down. I lurched in his arms.

“Easy…” Phil murmured in my ear. His hands wandered across my stomach, moved further down. I twisted in his arms, arching away from his touch. In his arms I was more of a challenge to control. He was still bigger than me, but not by the margin of his partner.

“Stop,” he grunted, one arm crossing over my stomach to hold onto me tightly, the other in my hair, grabbing a handful to yank my head back with, “You don’t want me to get the handcuffs, do you?” I shook my head frantically and stilled. Whenever he had to restrain me, he got more violent, his hands free for more sadistic ventures than merely holding me down.

“How do you want me to touch him?” Phil asked, turning his attention to Al, who was watching us intently. His eyes were completely glazed over with lust, any shred of humanity or sympathy for me was rapidly dissolving. Phil fingers crawled across my hip and roughly grabbed my soft dick, firmly stroking.

“Like this?” I closed my eyes tightly, when Al’s eyes blazed and he nodded, once again touching himself. Phil’s lips and teeth sucked at bit at the back of my neck, the hand not stroking me roughly fisted in my hair. It had grown out enough now that it was almost to my chin, giving him enough of a handful to really secure his grip close to my scalp. Al groaned in response. Phil kept moving his hand, biting me, sucking on the back of my neck harshly. He was deliberately leaving a mark.

“Want me to get him ready for you, stretch him?” Phil’s voice was beside my ear but directed at Al. I was shaking harder. Please say no. My eyes opened when Phil released my hair. Al hadn’t said anything at all but I knew what his answer was. Adjusting one arm around my waist Phil leaned over to one of the bedside tables for the abandoned bottle of lube from earlier. I started shaking and tried desperately to calm myself with the fact that Al was still sitting in his chair, watching. He seemed almost in a trance watching what was transpiring on the bed. I heard the cap of the lubricant pop open and squirmed in Phil’s arms. He wouldn’t use enough and I knew it. When I felt his erection brush up against me I braced my feet against his shins, arching myself away from him as much as possible.

“Stop squirming,” he growled. I didn’t. I grabbed for the headboard and used it as leverage to pull away from his grip. At that moment, Al seemed to come out of whatever lust-driven haze he was in.

“You’re not being gentle,” he chastised. Phil reached up with his other arm and swept both of mine away from the headboard, hand still sticky with lubricant though he’d wiped it on the sheets. His arms held me in a vice-like grip but I knew he wouldn’t be able to hold me down and get what he wanted. His legs wrapped around mine as I clawed at his arms with my bad arm, the good one sandwiched between my torso and the mattress.

“What do you want me to do?” Phil grunted. One arm released me so that he could harshly slap my thigh.

“Stop it,” he growled as I felt the sensation of my blood racing to, then fleeing from where his hand had been.

“You know what I want,” Al panted.

“Think you’ll be able to control yourself long enough?” Phil said, his tone light, joking. Al nodded feverishly.

“I’ll need to handcuff him to the headboard, he won’t stay still for this, he never does,” Phil warned. My mind raced. Phil’s tastes were varied and always twisted. Al’s were much more limited and simple. The only thing they seemed to have in common was using me in their games.

“Okay,” Al conceded. Phil released me with a violent shove forward that I wasn’t expecting. My head was spinning. I was going to be ill. I swallowed in gasps of air. I wanted this to be over. All I wanted was to bare the pain and have everything over with for another month. My eyes snapped up as the first of two metal wristlets clamped over my left wrist. With a sharp tug, Phil pulled my arm up to the headboard. I struggled and moved my other hand as far out of his reach as I could but he quickly clambered over me, claiming my other wrist and wrenching it over my head to secure it behind me. I heard the click and he pulled away immediately, letting me buck and writhe and growl in protest. I yanked on the metal from my position on my back, arms tethered above my head but started to curl into a miserable ball– or as close to one as I could. My chest heaved in air.

“Roll over,” Phil ordered, one hand already on my thigh, pushing me onto my stomach. He hovered over me, one knee on either side of my legs. His erection glistened with leftover lube. Maybe letting him fuck me while Al watched would be enough. I swallowed hard, gulping in a breath, and did what I was told but instead of feeling his shadow over me I felt it retreat. My arms twisted uncomfortably over each other. When his hands grabbed my hips and pulled me up onto my knees a shudder raced through me. The pain was coming. I pushed my face into the pillow in front of me and got ready to bite down. But pain didn’t come. Instead it was warm breath, and a probing tongue. I immediately tried to shrink away from Phil, but his hands gripped my hips tightly. From out of sight Al moaned.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he groaned. I could hear him stroking himself, picking up pace. He was getting off on watching his partner rim me. Heat coiled in my stomach, washing over me along with a wave of nausea. I was dizzy with the struggle to keep my both my nausea and my disobedient body under control when a sudden, sharp pain stabbed at my entrance– Phil’s fingernail as he jammed two fingers roughly inside of me. I couldn’t help but cry out in pain.

“You think that hurts?” Phil snickered, leaning over me so that only I could hear. He pulled me down onto my side, his fingers roughly prodding and prying until he very suddenly yanked them free and I knew why. Phil’s hands grabbed both of my hips and twisted us into a position I hadn’t been in before. He lay on his back, my back pressed to his chest, with me mostly on top of him. With one hand he grabbed my hip, with the other he reached down to guide his erection. I threw my weight to the side. I knew why he’d picked this position– it gave Al the best possible view, and it forced me to look at him. Phil’s hand brutally grabbed my hips, yanking me back onto his lap. I refused to co-operate, bringing my knees together, arching away from him. Frustrated he wrapped one arm around my waist, used the other to line his erection up in what he probably considered ‘close enough’ to the right place, and pulled me down harshly against him. My cry was cut short as a sharp pain ripped through me, stealing the air from my lungs. Finally the cry re-emerged, a desperate whimper. I gripped the headboard hard to keep the cuffs from pulling at my wrists and realized, I’d closed my eyes. I opened them slowly, staring up at the ceiling before locating the other man in the room. Al was staring, transfixed, one hand gripping the base of his erection to stave off orgasm.

“You need to get over here,” Phil said, looking over my shoulder to Al, who nodded, and scrambled from the chair eagerly. My breathing was coming in quick gasps when he crawled over the foot of the bed and swiped the lube from the bedspread where it sat, slapping against Phil’s thigh with each thrust. The man under me slowed and stopped as his partner slicked his own length.

“Hold still,” he ordered in my ear. I didn’t. I pulled my knees together, looking up at the other man pleadingly as I tried to pull my body away from Phil’s.

“Al,” I whimpered. His hair was still held back by the ponytail, giving me an unobstructed view of his face. I couldn’t do this again. It hurt too much. I would spend half of the next day in bed before one of them would force me to get up, to shower, to eat something when all I wanted to do was curl up in a hole somewhere and die. When Al moved closer I shifted as far back as Phil’s grip would allow, tugging against the handcuffs desperately, wishing for probably the hundredth time since I’d been abducted that the metal would break. It never did. When Al’s erection brushed my thigh I jumped away, bringing both of my feet up to brace on his thighs, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small alcove- like space where the bed sat.

“Don’t,” I garbled, “please, please don’t.” My insides clenched around Phil. My back hurt, my arms hurt. Al reached forward and brushed the hair out of my face. I could feel the pinpricks of tears at the corners of my eyes. His expression was tender, but deranged with desire. He wasn’t listening to me, not at all. Though it would hurt, I did the only thing I could think of. I pushed my feet hard against Al’s thighs and kicked back, Phil’s erection slipping free at an awkward, painful angle. Al, caught off balance pitched forward as my knees fell to the sides, his head colliding with mine. My jaw clamped close, and I bit my tongue, tasting blood immediately. My head rang at the unexpected skull to skull contact.

Al reeled back, gasping, looking at me in complete shock. One of Phil’s hands reached up and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, and my neck ached at the sudden, sharp movement.

“If you don’t start behaving yourself right now, I’m going to make you do things you never dreamed of with your little friend,” Phil growled. I froze. He’s lying. He has to be. Or is he?

“You think I’m playing?” Phil asked sharply, yanking my hair back to make sure I was paying attention. He continued speaking as he realigned himself with his free hand and pushed into me. After the sharp withdrawal the pain was even worse. My cry echoed in the small space.

“I’m not,” Phil answered his own question, “Richard knows your behaviour is less than ideal. So he gave me a bargaining chip, made me a very generous offer to make another movie– whatever kind I want– with both of you in it if you misbehave.” I couldn’t breathe. If I did anything wrong, Jason was going to suffer the consequences right along with me. I wasn’t sure he wasn’t already doomed to that fate.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, barely audible, voice hoarse.

“Show me,” Phil instructed, letting go of my hair. My brain was a few steps behind. Phil’s lips were at my ear.

“Tell Al what you want,” he prompted. I want to be let go. I want the pain to stop. I want to die. Al was looking down at me, his gaze expectant, slightly sympathetic, his hands were on my hips, rubbing up my sides to my ribs before traveling down again. He probably thought he was being soothing.

“Say it,” Phil ordered, keeping his tone controlled and light, “say it or tomorrow we make a movie.” That was when floodgates opened and I was inundated a memory for every sense. The smell of sawdust, the bright light above my head, the shadow of Phil’s form as he loomed over me, the parched taste of dust in my dry mouth, the cool tip of a metal screw driver and the sound of my own ragged breathing as I stuttered...

“I w-want you to fuck m-me.”

“Good boy,” Phil praised, his lips curling where they touched my skin and that’s when I realized I had actually repeated the words aloud. Tears rolled back into my hairline and I closed my eyes to hold them in as Al aligned himself and pushed and then the pain washed over me. I seized and cried out, the horrible pressure giving way to an agonizing ache. I struggled. It hurt and I couldn’t help but try and move away, but with both men holding on to me and my hands cuffed above me I knew I couldn’t win.

When it was over all three of us lay breathing hard on the soiled sheets. I was trying to breathe normally but the pain was excruciating, universal, but focused, pulsing and tearing and writhing inside of me. Phil was the first to get up.

“Ughhh, I need a shower, I’m covered in your sweat,” he complained as if he was the one who had the right to feel dirty.

“Join me?” he asked Al.

“I need a minute,” Al groaned, laying back against the pillow with his eyes closed where he had collapsed after withdrawing.

“Suit yourself,” Phil said as he backed off the bed. A moment later the bathroom door closed and I heard the shower start to run. Al opened his eyes and turned to look at me, his eyes scanning my form, up my arms to the headboard.

“Let me grab the keys,” he said quietly and got up to route around in a drawer or suitcase. I closed my eyes. I wanted sleep and I knew it wouldn’t come easy. Might as well start trying now. I listened to Al shuffle through a few more drawers and suitcases, becoming frustrated. Finally he sighed heavily and knocked on the bathroom door before entering.

“Babe, where did you put the keys?” I just barely heard him ask Phil. My stomach twisted nervously. I was handcuffed to the headboard and they didn’t know where the keys were? I couldn’t hear well enough to hear Phil’s response from inside the shower.

“I checked there,” I heard Al protest. A few minutes later both men emerged from the bathroom, Phil with a towel wrapped around his waist. Al moved around the foot of the bed and went to the dresser, pulled out a pair of grey track pants and hastily pulled them up over his hips.

“They have to be somewhere,” Phil muttered.

“I swear, I checked everything,” Al replied sounding a little defensive. This was not happening. I tried to stay calm but anxiety was rearing its head and I was becoming frantic. Phil clambered onto the bed with me and I shrank away. His hands fiddled with the metal and then I heard him groan.

“I brought keys,” he said, “Just the wrong fucking keys.”

“What?” I croaked. I yanked on the cuffs, unable to hide my distress.

“Calm down,” Al said gently, “I’m sure Rich has something we can use to undo them.” My heart was pounding out of control. My racing blood made everything hurt more.

“You take a shower,” Phil grumbled to Al, “I’ll go get him.”

It felt like an eternity before Phil returned with Richard in tow. He let out a low whistle when he got in the door.

“What were you three up to?” I was used to seeing him in business casual attire, so used to it that I couldn’t help but stare at him for a few minutes in his track pants and t-shirt. His collared shirts hid arms that were muscular and powerful looking. In one hand he held a small black box. He took a few easy strides towards the bed and set the box on the end of the bed near my feet.

“See, this is why, for short term use, I like the plastic quick restraints riot cops use, or cable ties– no keys,” Richard said with a smirk. He was fishing through things in the box and finally pulled out what he was looked for and moved closer to me. I reflexively shrank away from him when he leaned over me.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said to me, pulling his hands away from me, open palmed but for one finger holding the tool against his palm.

“I don’t like the plastic ties, no style, just function” Phil remarked casually while Richard started to pick the lock on the cuffs.

“Yeah, also no keys,” he chirped. Al was standing on the other side of the bed, head tilted, watching Richard work.

“What can I say, kid needs to be put in his place every once in awhile,” Phil replied, “I might as well have my fun.”

“Yeah well, by the looks of things he’d probably slice his wrists open on the plastic judging by how hard he was pulling on these,” Richard retorted. There was a sudden click and I felt the metal clasp free itself from my right hand.

“Well there’s one side,” Richard declared. I was thankful, but the feeling was overshadowed by the fact that I was alone in a room with three men who had forced me to do unspeakable things. I pulled my aching arms away from the headboard. My left arm really hurt, pain splintering up from wrist to elbow in repeated, sharp bolts.

“Sit up,” Richard ordered, pulling away from me to stand. I looked at him trying to veil my disbelief.

“I don’t know if he can do that at the moment,” Phil said with a smirk, “he had a rough ride tonight. Didn’t you Brennan?” I stared at him blankly, picturing a bullet ripping through his chest, Call of Duty style, wishing it were reality. Richard smirked.

“Careful not to break your toys,” he lectured as he reached out and took my wrist.

He had a much more difficult time with the second cuff, but the three men chatted as if it were nothing. When the metal finally fell away from my hands I curled in on myself.

“What do you say Brennan?” Al chastised.

“Thank you,” I muttered under my breath.

“Well, if you need another pair, I’m sure I can dig one up,” Richard said, glancing up at Phil and Al with a smirk, “In the meantime…” he handed the metal cuffs over to Phil, “…careful with these.”

“Thanks Rich,” Al said, “Sorry to wake you.” Rich laughed.

“Trust me, you didn’t wake me,” he replied as he strode out the door with Phil “Have a good night!”

“Come on, I’ll start the shower,” Al said gently, taking my right hand. I yanked it away from him.

“No,” I muttered. For once I didn’t care how dirty I was. A shower wasn’t going to make a shred of difference to change anything other than what was physically on me… in me.

“It’ll make you–”

“No it won’t,” I cut him the rest of Al’s sentence–‘feel better’–off. I turned away from him and the bathroom door and started when I saw Phil standing beside the bed.

“Do what he says,” he ordered flatly, his eyes challenging me, “Or do you want me to put these back on until morning?” He let the handcuffs dangle from his index finger and I shrank back, “It might make our little movie more interesting.”

“No,” I said sharply. Phil raised an eyebrow.

 “I’ll do it,” I muttered.

“I’ll start the water,” Al volunteered and this time, I didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes for a few precious minutes of peace.