Page 92 of Thorns of Malice

"Worse things have happened."

"Worse things? That poor girl was only fourteen! She was here visiting her sister at Gamma Sigma Phi! Her father is extremely prominent in Washington, DC!"

I pretend to be shocked, but I knew who it was and her age when I added it to the video. I blurt out, "She was only fourteen? Wow! That's illegal, isn't it?"

"Her father's already called me. He said they're going to be suing the university."

"How do they know it's her? Whoever created the video blurred her face out."

Dean Bramwell shouts, "It's pretty hard not to know it's her when she has that birthmark and tattoo right next to her—" He shuts his mouth again.

"Her pussy?" I offer once again.

"Ugh." He pours another glass of bourbon and swigs it back.

I point to the tumbler. "You might want to slow down on that stuff."

"I'm going to lose my job," he repeats.

"And I told you you're not."

Bramwell shakes his head. He hits fast-forward again and then stops.

A young man's body appears. His face is blurred, but you can still see the blindfold. Ropes attached to the ceiling bind his wrists.

Avery kisses him and giggles, saying seductively,"Are you ready for your gift?"

"Yes!"he exclaims, his dick hard and pointing straight in the air.

"Okay, baby. Hold on one second. I want to take my clothes off to do this."

"You're so fucking sexy,"he mutters.

Avery steps back, disappears from the screen, and reappears with a frat pledge from years ago. She motions at the restrained guy's cock.

The pledge kneels and begins sucking him off.

"Oh God, Avery. Oh God,"he moans. Avery holds the frat boy's head down, thrusting him over and over, faster and faster, until cum leaks out of his mouth and the restrained man is shouting obscenities. Bramwell pauses the screen with no color in his cheeks. "That's Matt Montague."

"Matt Montague? The attorney?"

"Yes, Matt Montague, the attorney," Dean Bramwell repeats, as if I'm deaf.

I peer closer. "How do you know it's Matt? I don't see any birthmarks or tattoos."

"It's him," Bramwell insists.

I'm curious how Bramwell knows it's Matt. I blurred his face really well. So I push, "But how do you know it's him?"

Bramwell explodes, "I play golf with his father every Sunday! He grew up on the course with us and at my house! That's Matt Montague, no doubt about it. And there's another scene with him."

"Is there?" I innocently ask.

"How could you not have watched this before you came over?" Bramwell reprimands.

"Would you want to see your sister naked, doing horrible things to people?" I question.

Bramwell shakes his head, fast-forwards a little bit, and then stops. "Look at what they did to him!"

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