Page 27 of Darkest Descent

Hopefully, he would join us in hell.

17

Alice

Hunter gave us a week alone, like he was avoiding the horror he had unleashed in his basement. We would have believed he’d abandoned us, left us to rot now that he had managed to break us down to our very marrow, but food arrived sporadically.

And I heard him, saw him, when he thought we were asleep. He would bring food and water, exchange our bucket. He didn’t want us dying, but he wanted nothing else, either. Unless it was for our emotions to fester with my wounds, of course, then he was nailing it.

They weren’t festering, though. By some miracle, the needle marks were healing. My ass hurt less every day. The only thing festering down here was our stench. The water given was just enough to keep us hydrated and for Asher to pat my injuries clean. And the food was only just sufficient to keep our stomachs from caving in. We’d both began losing weight. It hadn’t been long enough for anything significant, but there was a new dip in Asher’s cheeks that I didn’t like.

But with all of it, the tension never ebbed. I was ready at every moment to use the needle as a weapon. The tiny, inconsequential little tool that could change everything if I could just land it right. Time the moment of our bid for freedom. And I would. Thoughts of how I would do it consumed me. What point he would choose to come back and unleash his devilry?

Asher and I never stopped touching. It didn’t turn into anything other than comforting touches and gentle kisses. I didn’t think we could ever return to that, not even as death approached. I was broken, bruised. Both internal and external torture had rendered me incapable of those thoughts. Even as they reveled in the darkness sunk deep in my bones, the thoughts stayed at odds with my actions.

As what I assumed was the evening settled in, Asher and I found ourselves huddled on the mattress, stroking each other’s arms and humming pop songs to pass the time. It had been longer than usual since food arrived, and it had us both on edge. Something was about to happen. Change heated the air.

Neither of us flinched when the door opened, and Hunter walked in with a new bag, a fresh bucket and a wicked smirk.

“Stop that,” he said in way of greeting – not like I would expect a polite hello from our tormentor, but he was more abrupt than usual, less teasing. “Stand.” His eyes coursed over my body as I stood, so used to my nakedness it meant nothing now. Asher came up behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist to hold my wobbling frame steady.

We both felt it. This would be the last time.

“Stand in front of me,” Hunter continued in his new, more brusque way. “I’ve decided it’s about time to let you both upstairs again.”

I felt Asher’s surprise at that, along with my own. My eyes dropped to the bag in Hunter’s grasp, and he chuckled. Something was different. Wrong with him. He appeared erratic. Frantic.

“There are stipulations, of course,” he said with a smirk, some of that smugness I’d come to know from him leaking out. “I liked the needles in you.” He looked me in the eye, enjoying my wince. “Has me wondering what a piercing would look like…”

He held a hand up when both of us opened our mouth to protest, tutting and shaking his head. “Don’t worry, that’s not for now.” He laughed, a bitter, cold sound. “I’ve got something more fun in store today. If you want me to trust you…” He met both our eyes, one before the other. “It’s time to break the last barrier.”

“What do you mean?” I muttered, afraid. What the hell else was there left? These games, this sexual torture… what could he possibly want now? This man terrified me, but in that moment, when his smile stretched and his eyes grew wilder, that terror intensified. Something was very wrong. A sense of danger rippled through me, a reminder that I was prey to this man, a thing to destroy, and every hair on my body stood up. Death was coming for us.

Hunter’s grin was broad, manic, and he dug into his bag, producing a… I didn’t know. It was a hose like object with some attachments.

“Give your brother an enema.” His words were full of glee. “His ass is mine. And while I like a bit of fluid play, scat isn’t my thing. And you two stink.” He plonked the tools in my hands. “You can have filthy bodies, but he’ll have a squeaky clean ass.”

Biding our time. That’s what we were doing. I think Hunter was too. He seemed twitchy, glaring up at the ceiling every few seconds.

“What’s going on?” I blurted, unable to help myself. My fight was trying to claw its way past the flight. The stupidity of my loud mouth.

Hunter stared at me, tilted his head. “You’re giving your brother an enema so I can shove my cock into his clean hole. You don’t need to know more than that.”

I followed his eyeline to the ceiling, to the light bulb that I was certain housed a camera. Who was watching? Was it live? A pay-per-view service? Or was it more private than that? The mystery of it itched at my skin. I was done being his puppet. It was ending today.

“I don’t know how,” I muttered, dropping my gaze to give the bastard as much submission as possible. If I took it too far, he’d realize. He’d sense it was fucking fake.

Hunter stepped forward and stroked my cheek, calming a little. “I’ll teach you, beautiful girl. I want to watch close up anyhow.” His fingers curled into my greasy hair. “Do a good job and I’ll let you shower after.”

He grasped my strands hard until I winced, then let me go. “On all fours,” he told Asher.

As Asher passed me, he squeezed my hand. Almost the end. This was never happening again. We would both drift through whatever the fuck Hunter had planned until the right moment approached.

My brother sank to his hands and knees in the middle of the room, the apparent place for our torture, right at Hunter’s feet.

Trying to hold back the thousands of insults racing through my mind, the urge to jump our captor and claw his eyes out, I fell down behind Asher on my knees and read the instructions on the enema kit. “Um, I think we need water for this.”

Hunter grinned and nodded, leaving our space for a moment before returning with the bucket he’d brought in. I dreaded to see the contents, begging for it to be only water. Warm, hopefully. I dipped my finger in, finding it icy cold. It was just water, thank fuck. My mind fell into the dark pit of all the things he could have forced me to push into Asher. All components to make the act so much more severe. But this wasn’t the torture. Not yet.

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