Page 48 of Brutal Savior

Keep calm. Remember she’s breakable.

Quinn’s crazy hair is strewn all across the pillow, and she’s tucked on her left side, curled over herself protectively. I take a moment to look at her, taking in the red spots of color on her high, delicate cheekbones. Eve said she had at least six drinks, which would be a lot for her tiny frame.

Without wasting any more time, I get to work.

First, I use a sharp set of kitchen scissors to cut off all her clothes. She’ll be pissed I ruined her new outfit, but too bad. Serves her right, and she still hasn’t shown any sign of waking up.

Next, I attach the device I picked up from another Brother who likes tinkering with gadgets. It’s a modern version of a chastity belt, perfect because it stops her from touching herself without denying me any access at all.

One metal cuff around each of her slender wrists and a metal strip I attach with special body adhesive on her clit hood. It’s as strong as superglue but designed not to irritate sensitive skin. I might pierce her later to attach it permanently, but even she'd wake up to that.

As angry and dissociated as I am, locking those cuffs still sends a thrill through me. Only my thumbprint can unlock them. There’s something beautiful about her naked body, decorated only with my cuffs. When she deserves it, I’ll give her a collar to match.

She mutters in her sleep, unintelligible nonsense. I pause, waiting for her to settle before I pull out the final item. The gag is the smallest of five, each of them plastic and decorated with a rubber cock. Whilst it’s fastened, she’ll have to deal with it down her throat.

Each one gets a little bigger, with the last one matching my own size. After a few weeks of training with these beauties, her gag reflex will be a thing of the past.

And as a bonus, they’re uncomfortable and humiliating as all fuck. I’m getting hard just looking at it, imagining how much she’s going to hate me for this when she wakes up. Now for the tricky part.

Moving so, so slowly, I pull her mouth open and slide the tip of the rubber dick inside. I half expect her to twist away, but no. The little minx relaxes, welcoming it in. I’d swear she actually sucks it. What kind of dream is she having?

Christ, now I’m rock-solid.

This starter gag is pretty conservative in length. With her being on the piss last night, the last thing I want is her gettingsick. It slides in, and I tighten and fasten the straps quickly, less worried about waking her now. She’ll be up soon enough anyway.

Job done, I step back and wait. It only takes a minute before she’s shifting in her sleep, mouth working and trying to close. Her brows furrow, and her hand comes up to feel at the gag in sleepy confusion.

A whine escapes her. Then another. Her head shifts back and forth, trying to dislodge the gag. Finally, her eyes open.

She’s dazed, blinking in the low light until her vision clears and lands on me. Her eyes snap to full alert, and she tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Her hand flies up, feeling the gag, and she sits, pressing herself against the headboard. I could have tied her up, but honestly, watching her skitter about is more fun. Try and escape if you want, love. See how far you get.

I smile and take a seat on the edge of the bed. She watches me, tensed to flee. Everything about her screams prey. Her delicate body; her quick, jerky movements. I’m a predator, and she fucking knows it.

Without any rush, I bend to collect the box containing all my ruined items. She mumbles as I place it on the bed between us and moves away from it as if keeping away from the evidence can save her from the consequences. I take out the four items and lay them, one by one, on the bed.

“I don’t know why you did this, and honestly I don’t give a shit.” I hold out the first ball, covered in bunny rabbits. “My grandad got this one for me as a graduation gift. He didn’t have much dough at the time—neither of us did—so he saved his pension for a few months to afford it. He’s a tough old bastard, but he couldn't stop smiling when he gave it to me.”

She stares at it, skin growing even paler than usual.

“One punishment for this one. You’re wearing it.” Her hand goes again to the gag. “Can you feel it? That’s a rubber dildo down your throat. I’m kind, so this isn’t even a big one.”

I reach out and run my finger around the stretched O of her lips. “They get bigger, though. And you’ll be spending two hours a day, every single day, wearing one until you can handle the largest without gagging. And not just alone in here. You’ll wear it out and about, and when my friends are around. You’ll wear it whenever I fucking say.”

She shakes her head frantically, but stills as I retrieve the second of the wrecked soccer balls. She’s scrawled “You lying cunt” over and over this one. Lying? It jumps out at me, and I file it away to question her later. It’s not like she can answer now.

“This one I got for Grandad for his eightieth. He had it displayed in his living room till we moved to the US. Once we got here, he wanted me to keep it because, and I quote, ‘I don’t trust those fucking cleaners.’ Getting paranoid in his old age, my grandad. It’d break his heart to see this.”

The discomfort of the gag is really getting to her now. Her mouth must be dry as all fuck. I can see her throat working, desperate to expel the intruding pressure of the gag.

“One punishment for this one.” I grab her hand. She tries to pull away, but then her gaze lands on the cuff, and she freezes. “Do you like them? They’re not just pretty. Let me show you what they do. Touch your clit.”

She shakes her head, understandably wary of a trap. I trace the edge of the cuff with my finger. “You won’t get in trouble. I’ve told you to do it. Now, touch your fucking clit.”

She inches her hand downward. When she reaches the area I told her was off-limits, she pauses, hand frozen. Then she carries on, shifting her legs wide enough to touch the tip of her middle finger to her clit. I’d love to watch her get herself off, and I will, soon, but that’s reserved for girls who can behave.

I wait, a small smile on my lips, until five seconds pass and the cuff lets out its warning. A single beep. I grip Quinn’s hand before she can jerk away. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Sound rips out of the cuffs, an ear-splitting warble like an air raid siren, louder than a personal attack alarm. At the same time, both cuffs lurch into motion, the sort of rough vibration that feels like an electric shock. Rough enough to be painful and leave bruises on Quinn’s wrists.

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