Page 2 of Crave You

Shawn steps forward next and follows up Lucien’s punch with one of his own, this time a hard jab of a shot to the ribs. Again, Geoffrey winces in pain and he cries out this time. Damien needs no permission to take his turn, and he walks up to Geoffrey and stands in front of him. He doesn’t punch him. He reaches down and takes Geoffrey’s middle finger and then he pulls it upwards, snapping it in one fast movement. Geoffrey screams as Damien stands back, satisfied.

“Don’t be shy.” I say. “Keep going and get the bastard talking.”

I know I could make him talk more quickly than these three could, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t mind at all if this is going to go on for longer than necessary.

Shawn and Lucien both take their turns again, and again, they both choose to pummel Geoffrey’s torso area. Damien moves in for his turn and this time, he isn’t messing around with a broken finger. He takes Geoffrey’s ear in his fingers and twists it. Geoffrey screams and Damien twists it harder, lifting it as he does. Geoffrey tries to come up with it but he can only sit helplessly screaming while Damien does his best to detach the ear.

“OK, OK. I’ll talk. It was me. I’m sorry. I didn’t … I don’t know what came over me. I’ll tell the dean it was me and me alone! I’ll do whatever you want to make it right, I swear it. I’ll apologize to that girl as well. My parents have money. I’ll give her money,” Geoffrey all but screams.

None of us pay any attention to him. All eyes are on me now. I smile at the others and nod my head.

“Go,” I say. “Wait for me in the upstairs lounge.”

Shawn and Lucien hate anything like this. They will do it because it has to be done, but they get no pleasure from it. Damien, however, loves it — as do I. However, he knows better than to go against my wishes, so he reluctantly joins the others as they file to the exit.

I wait until the door closes behind the three of them and then I turn to Geoffrey.

“So, what was it like?” I ask.

Geoffrey wisely refrains from answering.

“Were they good? Did it make you feel like a man getting your picture taken with those half-drugged cuties? Did you feel powerful?” I am shouting now, and Geoffrey cowers back in the chair. Yeah, he should be afraid, if he knows what’s good for him.

“You fucking disgust me,” I say.

I move behind Geoffrey where there is a little trolley with some stuff laid out that I brought in earlier to use once we got to this point. I pick up a pair of pliers and go back around to face Geoffrey. He sees the pliers and his face blanches and he begins shaking his head from side to side, tears streaming down his face.

“No,” he whispers. “No.”

I only take one step towards him, and he starts to scream for help. No one will hear him; this room is fully sound-proofed. I made sure of that after I moved in. When someone has done something that makes me want to do this shit to them, then I like to hear them scream, but I don’t want the entire college to know.

I grab Geoffrey’s left hand and use the pliers to pull off the nail of his littlest finger. His scream changes from one of fear to one of agony and I smile. I love to inflict pain. I love to feel the power it offers. I love the moment when they realize that I’m not going to stop just because they cry and beg. I love to watch their eyes change as they finally accept that hope is gone, and that it will end when I fucking say it will. An unwilling smile twists on my face. I shouldn’t enjoy this – inflicting pain – but I do. I always have. Ever since I was four years old – that four-month heat wave I spent stomping on every ant I could find in the summer house, that satisfying crunch of the coyote’s neck as my foot connected with it mid-lunge for my mom’s throat – it has been like this.

It’s not retribution – it’s justice. And that’s the hitch. The one that has caused me more grief than any other: I love to hurt the deserving.

I move on to Geoffrey’s ring finger, but I don’t take the nail. Instead, I hover over it for a moment, and then I step back to look at him. Snot and tears are coursing down his face and he can hardly even speak from the pain and horror he is experiencing.

“You know what to do, don’t you Geoffrey,” I say in a voice that is almost soothing, but which still holds a hint of threat. “You tell the dean that it was all down to you and that you forced the others to help you and cover up for you. I’m not sure he’ll believe you, mind, but he will be happy to have an excuse to close this whole sorry chapter.”

Geoffrey nods enthusiastically hearing an ending in my words.

Which reminds me, I add and Geoffrey looks at me apprehensively. “What will you say Geoffrey, if anyone asks you how you hurt your finger?”

“Ah— ah— a lacrosse accident,” he stutters. I am surprised at Geoffrey’s ability to think so quickly, especially given the circumstances, but I just nod.

“That’s great Geoffrey,” I say “given that your little finger is only one out of ten and I know where to find the other nine any time I like.”

Blood is dripping from Geoffrey’s finger onto the chair arm and the ground, and I shake my head and make a tutting sound with my tongue.

“You are a messy guest aren’t you Geoffrey,” I say. “I will get someone to come down and clean you up a bit before they show you out.”

I need to go and take a shower and I’d also love to do something about my almost rock-hard cock.

* * *

When I get upstairs the boys are slouched around the lounge room on various armchairs. Shawn is on the sofa and Tilly Powell is half-lying next to him, her head almost in his lap. The dog-end of a joint is hanging from her slack fingers. Shawn’s half-lidded eyes tell me she didn’t smoke it alone.

Tilly is in Shawn’s sister, Erin’s, college and is studying drama. It’s a good choice as she has always struck me a bit of a drama queen, and she loves being the center of attention. I know that she also knows that my dad is huge in the TV and film industry. She has made it blatantly obvious, every time we meet, that she is willing to do anything to get close to me as a way in to my dad’s influence. Only the material of Shawn’s pants separates her blonde head and luscious lips from his cock. I feel mine jerk in an involuntary reaction.

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