Page 6 of Slayer

One thing I’m sure of is that her brother has nothing to do with any of it. However, he has caught my eye, and unfortunately for him that means he is coming too. The torture I’m planning for him is going to be more enjoyable than what I have planned for his sister and anyone else involved, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.

My need to rescue him from this unimpressive life is overwhelming. Besides, whoever she is working with is bound to come looking for her at some point and I wouldn't like my treasure getting caught in the crosshairs. Rising up from the kiddie stool, I give a nod.

Caeo and Eddie pull our two prisoners to their feet, but I hesitate to give the next order. Not because I have doubts about taking them, but because I want to appreciate the sight of them accepting their future. Caeo has his hands around the boy's upper arms, Porter leans against him, like a perfect submissive.

Tiffany is clearly the more dominant of the pair, continuing to wriggle against Eddie and Harrie, Marley isn't so capable, all he can manage is hobbling out of the house. Despite the short two inch blade, the kid really did damage. Missing all the blood vessels and bone, my best guess is that he managed to nick the nerve. There is little pain, but Marley can't seem to walk on the leg.

Tiffany keeps repeating that the drugs aren't hers, this is all a misunderstanding. Part of me wishes I just sent Caeo to deal with this now, but then I would have missed finding my new favourite thing. I give the nod, and everyone heads for the car.

The boot of Caeo's saloon is far less comfortable than the back of mine, but as the boy is shoved backwards into the small boot, I have an urge to change the order. No, having him in my car with me would give the wrong impression. I want him to appreciate the attention I give him when we arrive.

“To the warehouse?” Caeo calls, heading to the driver's seat.

“No. We're going home. I want to take my time with these two.” I want to hurt that boy so badly, but in all the right ways. I want to break his body and make him beg. My new treasure has no idea what I have in store for him.

The whole drive home has me thinking and rethinking my next move. There's only one way to win Porter's trust, and that's to give up the sister as a show of good faith. I bet he’d do anything to get the stupid girl out of this mess. But I can’t let her go without telling me who her dealer is. I have to offer him a deal that doesn't involve letting her go.

Once the gates of my property boundary close behind me, a heavy sigh slips out. Home and free. I climb out and wait as my men retrieve the prisoners. Each one gets a bag over their heads before being lifted out of the car. It's not to keep them from knowing where they are, it's to make them really understand the position they are in.

“Put them in the cages.” I'm not in the business of storing living cargo, but a man of my stature comes across many enemies and traitors. It's always useful to have somewhere secure to house people, even at home.

When we reach the basement, the bags are ripped off my dazed and disoriented captives' heads. I want so badly to get ahead of myself and ravish that boy now. Those needy eyes are begging me to hurt him. But this is a patient game, I will not get ahead of myself.

It's been a while since I housed anyone in the prison here. It's a large space in the basement, poorly decorated with tiny, high windows. The space is open and empty, except for the support pillars gathered around. The cages made from metal bars, welded to the floor and ceiling, with supports from side to side. Positioned on the far side of the underground space, we have to cross the whole room to reach them. One is large and comfortable, like a regular bedroom, but with bars. The other one is small and basic, just large enough for a single mattress. Now which captive for which cage?

I know the decision, but it's good to ponder while my dazed victims watch me with pleading eyes. The larger cage has a bed, table and chair, a toilet, and space to walk around. The other has a mattress on the floor and enough space to pace alongside it.

“Bind him properly and put the boy in there.” Bound in a small cage is exactly what my boy needs right now. I need to make it clear he isn't fighting his way out of this one. Even a vicious animal will break given enough time, but I like the fact this little kitty has claws.

I back up and give my men room, but I am watching every minute of this. That poor boy is going to learn his sweet looks are going to get him a whole heap of one on one torment.

Switching the cuffs for leather restraints will stop him hurting himself, even with his arms remaining trapped behind his back; he keeps the gag for now. My little treasure is then dropped on the mattress, and to add insult to injury, a thick chain is attached to his wrist restraints, pinning him, quite unnecessarily, to the wall. It’s a good look for him. I’ll have to make sure I have one installed in my bedroom immediately.

Tiffany has her hands released and my men abandon her as she is on the bed of the large cage, completely unrestrained.

So unfair. So perfect.

My eyes fix on my treasure, his eyes try to fix on me. He is the innocent victim here, and yet he is the one being punished.

He doesn't understand, his muffled begging is music to my ears. And not helping his cause at all. In fact, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. This boy is mine. For now, I will be fair to him and let him rest, but only because work calls me away. I have a dealer to find.

five

Porter

Well,thisisawhole new level of fucked-up. My jaw is aching from the rubber ball holding it open. I can open my mouth wider to ease the stiffness, but it doesn't help much overall. Words don't even sound like words, I've got no chance of asking Annie why she did it. Growing up without a proper mum because of what the drugs did to her has sworn me off them for life. Annie hates Mum for raising us the way she did, and now she's got herself in this mess, dealing drugs to people like Mum.

Investigating the straps around my wrists is fruitless, they're locked on and there is no way of undoing them without a key. All I can do is gurgle at Annie, who is annoyingly less restrained and significantly more comfortable than I am, considering this is her mess. She paces around her cage and completely ignores the fact I'm even here. No words of encouragement or anything. No apology for dragging me into this mess. I don’t even know what time it is or how long we’ve been here, but it feels like forever.

This is exactly what happened to mum. Not the kidnapping thing, but everything else about my sister is mirroring Mum. She needed more money, and started out as a drug mule, got herself pregnant, then got herself addicted. She may have moved cities to escape the dealers, but she never managed to escape the drugs. She told the father she was pregnant, but I don't think he cared. His name is down as unknown on our birth certificates and has never cared about us. I know how hard it was for Mum raising twins alone, living off government benefits. However, the more capable Annie and I got, the less capable she became. By seven we were doing our own housework and laundry, by nine, Mum no longer left the house. And despite that, Annie still worked for a drug dealer in his club. She still stole from him. I suppose she could have a vigilante plan to get the drugs off the street, but the risks certainly aren't worth it. I just wish she'd tell me instead of acting like I'm not here.

The sound of metal clanking by the door is the tell-tale sign we're about to have company again.

“Hello again.” Thayer walks over in his designer suit and shiny shoes. He's dressed the part of evil super villain. His hot, gorgeous body and looks someone like me would kill for, but still super villain.

Sexy super villain.

I'm naturally drawn to men like him in the club, giving guys like Thayer a private lap dance is no hardship. They are always the hard hitters and big tippers. I need to remember this situation is hugely different. Being cuffed to the wall is no warmup act.

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