HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS Part 44
Warnings: This Chapter: Graphic violence (torture) explicit sexual content, non-con. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Lia (Cheebles) is still there with me helping - thanks Lia.
His first sensation was the smell, the dank, honeyed, foulness of a rotten cellar with the acrid tones of cheap nicotine. It was damp and chill and he was dizzy even with his eyelids shut. He decided not to open them yet. His feet were uncovered and cold on a sharp sandy surface. There was pressure on his wrists and ankles and something prickled and chafed at them. He thought he might be tied to a chair. His left arm ached with two bright dots of pain near his shoulder. The edges of his mouth were sore and wet drool coated them. His tongue was dry with rough fabric taut across it. His stomach growled, it felt empty and nauseous. His hair clung to his head in wet knots. Somewhere close by there was a steady drip as fluid dispersed on the ground and there were sounds of deliberately hushed movement about him, the crunch of feet on the rough floor and the faint rustle of clothing. He tried to recall where he was but he couldn’t think straight. Jared wondered if he could drift back to sleep and this would all be an unpleasant nightmare.
Before the architect could consider the option of returning to unconsciousness, warm fingers firmly grasped his left foot . There was a sudden, blinding hot shard of pain as a spike was jammed mercilessly between the nail and the flesh of his toe. He jerked backward but found himself restrained. He tried to scream but a pitiful, muffled moan was all he could manage. His eyes flew wide open to a shocking bright white light and filled with tears.
“Tol’ yo he’s awake.” Laing crowed.
“I’d forgotten how much fun this is.” Emma spoke as she dropped Jared’s foot back to the floor and wiped the blood on her pants.
Jared grunted, trying to speak. Laing moved behind him “Ya wan’ me t’ take this aht?” fingers settled on the knot at the back of his head.
“You want that, you have to play nice, Jay.” Emma was bending at eye level. He nodded frantically.
“Real nice.” droned Laing as his fingers trailed to the back of his neck and under his shirt-collar.
Fingernails scraped a pathway on his skin but the movement was slow and deliberate, a harsh caress. “He’s perty Em, a real prince. ”
Emma trailed her own hands down his neck and rested them on the top button. His eyes widened as she nimbly unhooked it and moved to the next. The chair shook as he tried to jerk himself away but he just earned himself a harsh stinging slap on his cheek. Strong fingers twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck and wrenched his head back, leaving his neck exposed. He heard the click and fizz of a lighter, saw a red glow and heard the sucking breath of a cigarette being lit. The rough fingers tangled into his hair to restrain him as the circle of dry heat sizzled into the soft flesh under his ear. He screamed into the gag and another tear rolled down his cheek but anger flared in the hazel cat-eyes.
Laing pulled tufts of hair out by the roots as he removed his hand. He took the cigarette from Emma and put it to his own lips, inhaling a long drag. “It’s no fun wit’ one, we should wait fur de-tec-tive Ackles.” He passed the cigarette to Emma who sucked on it and blew a steady stream of bitter smoke into Jared’s face. They passed it between them until there was nothing but a stub left. Emma giggled and with a deft flick stubbed it out on the back of Jared’s hand, leaving a crimson disc of pain. She resumed the slow descent of her fingers, button by button then pushed his shirt wide open, as far back on his shoulders as his tied form would allow. She hmmmed appreciatively and let her hands roam over his chest, flicking lightly over his nipples. He squirmed and Laing’s heavy hand stung hard against his face. “Time t’learn the rules Boy.”
She lifted her hands and eased the gag out of his mouth, she placed her hand over his lips as it fell with a wet plop to his chin. “No screaming.” she said “You won’t like what happens if you scream.” He glared defiantly at them but held his tongue. He wouldn’t fight pointless battles, he had to wait for an opportunity. His spirits were secretly raised by the mention of Jensen. They were expecting his boyfriend, his green-eyed detective and if Jensen knew where to find him, the full force of the FBI and police would follow. He had to stay alert and keep his captors calm. Whatever they did to him, they wanted him alive for now. He could co-operate, he had to.
Laing proffered the cup of water and Emma put it to his lips. “The drugs make you thirsty don’t they? Feel sick and dizzy?” He leaned his head forward to take a sip and she drew it back and threw it in his face. “Made me feel like shit, forced me out. You still stuck ‘em in me, stood by while the nurses fed them to me.”
He remembered now, needles full of Caitlin's sedative, stabbed brutally into his arm, one after another whilst the knife was held to his throat, the gun at his head. He wasn’t sure if they’d given him two or three. It wasn't significant, he was here and there was no escape from his predicament. “The drugs made me sleep Emma. How could they have forced you anywhere?"
She looked puzzled for a moment, Laing reached across and this time the hand was in a fist. It was a jarring blow that whipped his head to the side with bruising pain. For the first time Jared wondered what Laing knew about Kate. Did he really think this was Emma? Or was he playing a cruel game with her? Did Jensen get it wrong and this was the real Emma? They forced me out. No. This was his Caitlin and there was hope yet of getting her back. “Is this the game you played before, with Jensen? Is that what you’re doing with me?” He steeled himself for another blow but Laing observed him coolly and picked at his nails with the tip of a small dagger.
“Didna work aht , techno - ology is a fine thing Jay-red but it don’t always work aht. This time I git to watch Em here at work. She‘s the finest of em all.”
“So what about your husband Emma, does he get to join in? Where is he?” he twisted his head to look at her.
“He joined in too much last time. Really was obsessed with the little bitch. Had to go.” She flicked her eyes upward in an expression of disdain.
There was an echoing clang and, before he could shout out, Jared felt the gag being forced back into his mouth and the cold blade of Emma’s knife squeezed against his Adam’s apple. She pressed the tip harder than necessary and he made a faint hiss as it made a shallow cut in his skin. A slow trickle of blood slid, wet and warm, toward his chest.
***
The hatch clanged shut with an air of finality. Inside was black as space and the steps were slippery with algae. The smell of mold and damp assailed him and he fought the memories of a similar smell, in a similar place, almost a year before. Jensen struggled to keep his footing, relying on his cane for support while gripping the torch with its slim arc of light. His leg shook with the strain of staying upright on the troublesome stairs and his back ached with complaint. He could discern bright white light filtering from somewhere ahead and to the right. He pictured the drawing in his mind. It looked like they were in the old nurse’s station, the widest and deepest area of the basement. He stumbled on a loose stone as he reached the final stair. It ricocheted and hit the wall with a dull echo. There’s nothing like announcing his arrival, he thought. The detective stopped, checked his clip and slid it back into his gun. It was a comforting but unnecessary gesture.
“C’mon in De-tect-tive Ackles, ya boyfran’ is waitin’ on yo.”
“Predictable but quick, Detective Ackles. You should put down your gun. I have a very pretty knife. Right now it’s embedded in your lover’s neck. Now I can ease up the pressure and he lives to see you die, or I can press a bit harder and you can watch him choke on his own blood. What do you say Detective?”
He pressed his back against the wall and sidled up to the entrance. He peeked his head around the corner of the wide and solid wall. It was as expected, there could be no clear aim until he was visible. He might be able to get off a shot and one of them would die but he wouldn’t save Jay. He closed his eyes and braced himself. He called out, delaying the moment. “What do you want from us?”
“Aw. We jus’ wanna play, Det-ec-tive. Call it a rematch.”
“You can’t win. There’ll be a SWAT team here in minutes and there’s no way out.”
“You’re lying, if you had back up you wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t let you. You came on your own Jensen.” Emma spoke coldly.
“an’ we got a way aht, always a way aht, ain’t that right Em?”
There was a long pause. She knows something he doesn’t thought Jensen.
“What you really want is to finish this with me. If I drop my weapon and come in, will you let Jared go?”
There was no answer to that, just a muffled thump, a sudden high pitched moan, whimpering and heavy breathing. There were peals of laughter from Emma with a choked chuckle from Laing .
“What did you do? What the fuck did you do?”
“I think Karl nailed him. Shall we see what other noises he can make or will you be coming in?”
Bile rose unbidden in the back of his throat and he clenched his fist around his stick. Images of Tom flashed, clear and unforgotten, face contorted in blazing agony, hand outstretched, with fingers splayed and nailed tight to the wooden surface of a bench. He let himself vomit, there by the wall. It saved doing it later.
“Aw now Ackles, yous gettin’ soft. We ain’t hardly started.”
“Then what’s the benefit of coming in?”
“Ya get to take some o’ ya boyfran’s pain for him. Mebbe he can jus’ watch.”
There wasn’t a choice, there was never a choice. He stepped out of the dark into the blinding light, he dropped his gun on the floor and raised his right hand leaving the other on his cane. Laing shuffled toward him, with a twisted, evil grin, snapping a piece of rope in his hand. His heavy boots scraped on the rough surface. He lifted one foot and kicked the cane firmly away from the detective and, as he struggled to keep his balance, he raised it again and kicked hard against his right shin. Jensen fell to the ground. “Well, ain’t it nice to see ole frans.” he said tipping his head to observe him. He raised his foot once more and swung a deep blow into the detective’s stomach. Jensen doubled up and The Player crouched, victorious beside him.
Jared squeaked and struggled against his binding and Emma raised another thin line of blood, a surface scratch with the sting of an extended paper cut. He stilled, his eyes, fixed on his boyfriend, glassy with tears.
Laing was good at knots. He’d had the opportunity to perfect them. He dragged Jensen over to a sturdy wooden chair opposite Jared, by his tied wrists. His ankles were hobbled together. Jensen didn’t complain or shout as Laing used a long length of rope to wrap him firmly to it. He wanted to remain ungagged. He needed to take an opportunity to speak if it looked like Emma was wavering. He locked his gaze on the big-hearted brunette tied to the chair opposite him. He took in his bare torso, the bruising, the burns and the blood. “I love you. I’m so sorry.” he choked out quietly.
“Aw, ain’t that sweet. Mebbe we should let t’lad have his say afore we start.” He loosened the rag in Jared’s mouth. Jared took a short moment to consider his words. He blinked at Jensen then let his eyes fix on Emma’s. “You have to remember.” he paused “I’d never hurt you.” he switched his gaze back to Jensen and smiled sadly but fondly “I love you.” Emma shivered and stared into empty space until Laing roused her. She flexed her hand, staring down at the inked J2 figures on the back of it. She turned it over and her palm and wrist were covered in small neat writing. Over and again. Remember.
“Which one of ya is gonna start then. Don’ be shy.” Laing thumbed through a deck of cards, shuffling them expertly. The sound tore through Jensen like a physical pain and he flinched.
“I will.” They spoke together. Emma looked between them and smirked. “We should let the detective catch up.”
“I don’t want a card.” Jensen spoke up. If his voice trembled, only he sensed it. “I’m playing this game too. If I do this, I want something else.”
“Them’s not ya rules, boy.”
“You’ll enjoy it.”
Laing’s interest was peaked and Emma was leaning in to listen. “You answer a question about the game. You get to tell us about it. We can't tell because neither of us is getting out alive. We play the game right and we get to satisfy our curiosity before we die.” Jensen did his best to look nonchalant about Laing’s answer.
Laing beckoned Emma and they huddled in a corner whispering. Emma came back first. “If Ackles completes a task, he asks me something. If Jared completes a task, Karl will answer. One question and you don’t get to argue with our answers. You don’t speak unless you’re given permission. Is that clear?” Both of them affirmed with a nod.
Emma crouched in front of Jensen. She looked him in the face. “We’ll get started then. Something simple. You make a noise, you lose.” She rose and went to stand by a sturdy old workbench at the far side of the space. There was a jumble of items on it and she picked several up, turning them slowly in her hand, angling them so Jensen could see clearly. Pliers, nails, a hammer, a scalpel, a cattle prod, her fingers fondled the head of a hammer as she weighed it in her palm. “This.” She hovered over him. “Pick a finger Detective, stretch it out, curl the rest away. Would you like some help?” she showed him a smooth off-cut of wood. He opened his mouth and let her place it between his teeth. He locked eyes with her, making his fury at the situation evident. The hammer came down with a sickening crunch and tears spilled from the green-gold eyes. He bit down, his teeth leaving deep grooves in the wood. He didn’t cry out, not a sound. Laing watched from a seat in the far recess of the space. He reached to his crotch and palmed himself through his pants. Emma flushed with excitement and snatched the wood from his mouth. “Very good." she praised. "Question time.”
“Did your husband, James Painter, make the knife marks on your body?” She looked at him blankly “I don’t have any..” her voice faded as her right hand unconsciously reached to her left shoulder and began to trace a pattern.
“Agin.” Laing gestured for Emma to continue with Jensen.
Once more she considered the assortment of tools slowly, finally picking a pair of scissors and a long thin nail. She bounced the hammer in her hand and approached him. She pulled his T-shirt and hoodie away from his body and sliced roughly with scissors until they fell off his torso in strips. She massaged her hands over his chest, dug her fingers viciously into the indent of his hips and down his treasure trail. She giggled as she unbuckled his belt. “Just teasing.” she said as she dropped the buckle back onto his lap. “Same rules” she added and shoved the wood back in his mouth. She sank to the floor and removed his shoes and socks.
He curled his toes away from her hand, fear and anticipation coursing through him. He caught a whimper before it emerged and bit down harder. His jaw ached with the effort. She brushed his toes lightly, tickling them, drawing out the inevitable. He almost didn’t expect it when the the lengthy nail was driven with the force of the hammer, into the soft arch of his foot. The world blurred and span, he ground his teeth so hard he felt enamel crumble as a tooth chipped. He stayed silent. “Now, put your foot back on the floor and keep it there.” He winced and fresh tears flowed as the pain was renewed.
Laing undid his fly and put his hand inside to pull on his swollen cock. He licked his lips and masturbated crudely, showing off to his prisoners. Emma frowned and her hand pressed hard against her forehead. She was getting a headache.
Jensen asked his next question. “How did Kate get herself untied?”
She answered without delay. “There was a sharp piece of metal in the wall. She used it to cut the rope on her wrists.”
Laing reacted to this news. “The bitch got loose. Ya neveh tole me.”
Emma spoke soothingly. “Your genius netcam wasn’t working. It’s OK. She did me a favor. She killed James.”
“Ya tole me , tha’ was you.”
“I just said he got too friendly and had to go. S’OK. Your turn. I think you need to get some relief for that.” She nodded to the purple headed cock that he was gripping. She leaned against the bench, wincing with pain and rubbing at her temples with one hand while the other continued tracing patterns on her body. Her eyes closed as her breath quickened.
Laing stood in front of Jared, he twisted his face into an evil parody of a smile. “Your turn perty boy.” He pushed down his trousers and continued fisting his cock. He put his hand on the back of the brunette’s neck and pushed his face down onto it. “Suck. Ya bite, ya lose, ya spit, ya lose.” Jared cleared his mind and took a deep breath. He‘d done this hundreds of times with complete strangers, why should this be any different? It was though. If he didn’t do it then it would be forced on Jensen with no benefit, no question, and he understood the detective’s logic. He wondered why there was no police rescue and if Jensen had really come here alone. He opened his mouth and swallowed the thick length, breathing shallowly as the smell of rancid sweat reached his nose. He gagged as it was rammed hard to the back of his throat.
***
Kate floats in the everlasting blue. She needs to reach Emma. Emma is laughing, cold and deranged. She’s been laughing for too long and Kate needs to silence her. She concentrates but her arms and legs can’t move through the formless blue. Emma stays out of her reach taunting her with the sound. Kate hears a word and repeats it. ‘Remember‘. She traces in the air and a familiar pattern of smooth red lines appear. She remembers. ‘Riordan‘. The lines expand and become form, a sturdy scaffold frame. She steps on the first pole and climbs to the second. She passes over a platform and continues to weave the same familiar pattern until she’s there. She taps Emma on the shoulder and Emma turns in surprise to gaze at her mirror image. “You’re dead. Time to go.” Kate says and dismisses her with a flick of her wrist.
***
“No!” Jensen saw Emma’s eyes fly open, wide and shocked. Her fingers felt the knife on her belt and she nervously flicked at the pop fastener. Laing and Jared jumped in surprise, Laing withdrew entirely from the architect’s mouth to look over at her.
“I want you.” Emma said. She sucked her finger into her mouth and looked at Karl Laing with a sultry expression. “I’m so horny right now.” she took her wet fingers from her mouth and trailed them to her breasts. She took Laing’s hand and pulled him toward her. "Leave him for now. He can clean up." She led him to a chair, sat him down and straddled his lap, leaning over to suck on his neck. She hmmed. He pulled her close, his hands fumbled with her shirt, tugging it over her head, ripping the material. His hands were held aloft, above them both as it finally broke loose and he lost balance with it still in his hands. “Say my name,” mumbled Emma.
“Em, Emma, Christ, yes!”
“Wrong! Dumb fuck!” There was a glint as she raised her arm and light reflected from the finely made knife. She gave no time for anyone to react before she sliced, vicious, deep, clean and even into his neck and through his jugular. It really is a good weight, she thought. “My name is Katherine Elise Riordan and you lose,” she hissed. He gurgled as his blood sprayed in a fountain, coating every surface within it‘s arc. She didn’t flinch as the warm fluid splattered her face in a bad parody of a horror movie. She watched with mild interest as the life drained from him and the terror in his eyes faded into a blank stare.
Thick crimson gore dripped from the tip of her blade. "That's better," she said and turned toward Jensen.
Continued in Part 45 here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/13186.html
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Lia (Cheebles) is still there with me helping - thanks Lia.
His first sensation was the smell, the dank, honeyed, foulness of a rotten cellar with the acrid tones of cheap nicotine. It was damp and chill and he was dizzy even with his eyelids shut. He decided not to open them yet. His feet were uncovered and cold on a sharp sandy surface. There was pressure on his wrists and ankles and something prickled and chafed at them. He thought he might be tied to a chair. His left arm ached with two bright dots of pain near his shoulder. The edges of his mouth were sore and wet drool coated them. His tongue was dry with rough fabric taut across it. His stomach growled, it felt empty and nauseous. His hair clung to his head in wet knots. Somewhere close by there was a steady drip as fluid dispersed on the ground and there were sounds of deliberately hushed movement about him, the crunch of feet on the rough floor and the faint rustle of clothing. He tried to recall where he was but he couldn’t think straight. Jared wondered if he could drift back to sleep and this would all be an unpleasant nightmare.
Before the architect could consider the option of returning to unconsciousness, warm fingers firmly grasped his left foot . There was a sudden, blinding hot shard of pain as a spike was jammed mercilessly between the nail and the flesh of his toe. He jerked backward but found himself restrained. He tried to scream but a pitiful, muffled moan was all he could manage. His eyes flew wide open to a shocking bright white light and filled with tears.
“Tol’ yo he’s awake.” Laing crowed.
“I’d forgotten how much fun this is.” Emma spoke as she dropped Jared’s foot back to the floor and wiped the blood on her pants.
Jared grunted, trying to speak. Laing moved behind him “Ya wan’ me t’ take this aht?” fingers settled on the knot at the back of his head.
“You want that, you have to play nice, Jay.” Emma was bending at eye level. He nodded frantically.
“Real nice.” droned Laing as his fingers trailed to the back of his neck and under his shirt-collar.
Fingernails scraped a pathway on his skin but the movement was slow and deliberate, a harsh caress. “He’s perty Em, a real prince. ”
Emma trailed her own hands down his neck and rested them on the top button. His eyes widened as she nimbly unhooked it and moved to the next. The chair shook as he tried to jerk himself away but he just earned himself a harsh stinging slap on his cheek. Strong fingers twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck and wrenched his head back, leaving his neck exposed. He heard the click and fizz of a lighter, saw a red glow and heard the sucking breath of a cigarette being lit. The rough fingers tangled into his hair to restrain him as the circle of dry heat sizzled into the soft flesh under his ear. He screamed into the gag and another tear rolled down his cheek but anger flared in the hazel cat-eyes.
Laing pulled tufts of hair out by the roots as he removed his hand. He took the cigarette from Emma and put it to his own lips, inhaling a long drag. “It’s no fun wit’ one, we should wait fur de-tec-tive Ackles.” He passed the cigarette to Emma who sucked on it and blew a steady stream of bitter smoke into Jared’s face. They passed it between them until there was nothing but a stub left. Emma giggled and with a deft flick stubbed it out on the back of Jared’s hand, leaving a crimson disc of pain. She resumed the slow descent of her fingers, button by button then pushed his shirt wide open, as far back on his shoulders as his tied form would allow. She hmmmed appreciatively and let her hands roam over his chest, flicking lightly over his nipples. He squirmed and Laing’s heavy hand stung hard against his face. “Time t’learn the rules Boy.”
She lifted her hands and eased the gag out of his mouth, she placed her hand over his lips as it fell with a wet plop to his chin. “No screaming.” she said “You won’t like what happens if you scream.” He glared defiantly at them but held his tongue. He wouldn’t fight pointless battles, he had to wait for an opportunity. His spirits were secretly raised by the mention of Jensen. They were expecting his boyfriend, his green-eyed detective and if Jensen knew where to find him, the full force of the FBI and police would follow. He had to stay alert and keep his captors calm. Whatever they did to him, they wanted him alive for now. He could co-operate, he had to.
Laing proffered the cup of water and Emma put it to his lips. “The drugs make you thirsty don’t they? Feel sick and dizzy?” He leaned his head forward to take a sip and she drew it back and threw it in his face. “Made me feel like shit, forced me out. You still stuck ‘em in me, stood by while the nurses fed them to me.”
He remembered now, needles full of Caitlin's sedative, stabbed brutally into his arm, one after another whilst the knife was held to his throat, the gun at his head. He wasn’t sure if they’d given him two or three. It wasn't significant, he was here and there was no escape from his predicament. “The drugs made me sleep Emma. How could they have forced you anywhere?"
She looked puzzled for a moment, Laing reached across and this time the hand was in a fist. It was a jarring blow that whipped his head to the side with bruising pain. For the first time Jared wondered what Laing knew about Kate. Did he really think this was Emma? Or was he playing a cruel game with her? Did Jensen get it wrong and this was the real Emma? They forced me out. No. This was his Caitlin and there was hope yet of getting her back. “Is this the game you played before, with Jensen? Is that what you’re doing with me?” He steeled himself for another blow but Laing observed him coolly and picked at his nails with the tip of a small dagger.
“Didna work aht , techno - ology is a fine thing Jay-red but it don’t always work aht. This time I git to watch Em here at work. She‘s the finest of em all.”
“So what about your husband Emma, does he get to join in? Where is he?” he twisted his head to look at her.
“He joined in too much last time. Really was obsessed with the little bitch. Had to go.” She flicked her eyes upward in an expression of disdain.
There was an echoing clang and, before he could shout out, Jared felt the gag being forced back into his mouth and the cold blade of Emma’s knife squeezed against his Adam’s apple. She pressed the tip harder than necessary and he made a faint hiss as it made a shallow cut in his skin. A slow trickle of blood slid, wet and warm, toward his chest.
***
The hatch clanged shut with an air of finality. Inside was black as space and the steps were slippery with algae. The smell of mold and damp assailed him and he fought the memories of a similar smell, in a similar place, almost a year before. Jensen struggled to keep his footing, relying on his cane for support while gripping the torch with its slim arc of light. His leg shook with the strain of staying upright on the troublesome stairs and his back ached with complaint. He could discern bright white light filtering from somewhere ahead and to the right. He pictured the drawing in his mind. It looked like they were in the old nurse’s station, the widest and deepest area of the basement. He stumbled on a loose stone as he reached the final stair. It ricocheted and hit the wall with a dull echo. There’s nothing like announcing his arrival, he thought. The detective stopped, checked his clip and slid it back into his gun. It was a comforting but unnecessary gesture.
“C’mon in De-tect-tive Ackles, ya boyfran’ is waitin’ on yo.”
“Predictable but quick, Detective Ackles. You should put down your gun. I have a very pretty knife. Right now it’s embedded in your lover’s neck. Now I can ease up the pressure and he lives to see you die, or I can press a bit harder and you can watch him choke on his own blood. What do you say Detective?”
He pressed his back against the wall and sidled up to the entrance. He peeked his head around the corner of the wide and solid wall. It was as expected, there could be no clear aim until he was visible. He might be able to get off a shot and one of them would die but he wouldn’t save Jay. He closed his eyes and braced himself. He called out, delaying the moment. “What do you want from us?”
“Aw. We jus’ wanna play, Det-ec-tive. Call it a rematch.”
“You can’t win. There’ll be a SWAT team here in minutes and there’s no way out.”
“You’re lying, if you had back up you wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t let you. You came on your own Jensen.” Emma spoke coldly.
“an’ we got a way aht, always a way aht, ain’t that right Em?”
There was a long pause. She knows something he doesn’t thought Jensen.
“What you really want is to finish this with me. If I drop my weapon and come in, will you let Jared go?”
There was no answer to that, just a muffled thump, a sudden high pitched moan, whimpering and heavy breathing. There were peals of laughter from Emma with a choked chuckle from Laing .
“What did you do? What the fuck did you do?”
“I think Karl nailed him. Shall we see what other noises he can make or will you be coming in?”
Bile rose unbidden in the back of his throat and he clenched his fist around his stick. Images of Tom flashed, clear and unforgotten, face contorted in blazing agony, hand outstretched, with fingers splayed and nailed tight to the wooden surface of a bench. He let himself vomit, there by the wall. It saved doing it later.
“Aw now Ackles, yous gettin’ soft. We ain’t hardly started.”
“Then what’s the benefit of coming in?”
“Ya get to take some o’ ya boyfran’s pain for him. Mebbe he can jus’ watch.”
There wasn’t a choice, there was never a choice. He stepped out of the dark into the blinding light, he dropped his gun on the floor and raised his right hand leaving the other on his cane. Laing shuffled toward him, with a twisted, evil grin, snapping a piece of rope in his hand. His heavy boots scraped on the rough surface. He lifted one foot and kicked the cane firmly away from the detective and, as he struggled to keep his balance, he raised it again and kicked hard against his right shin. Jensen fell to the ground. “Well, ain’t it nice to see ole frans.” he said tipping his head to observe him. He raised his foot once more and swung a deep blow into the detective’s stomach. Jensen doubled up and The Player crouched, victorious beside him.
Jared squeaked and struggled against his binding and Emma raised another thin line of blood, a surface scratch with the sting of an extended paper cut. He stilled, his eyes, fixed on his boyfriend, glassy with tears.
Laing was good at knots. He’d had the opportunity to perfect them. He dragged Jensen over to a sturdy wooden chair opposite Jared, by his tied wrists. His ankles were hobbled together. Jensen didn’t complain or shout as Laing used a long length of rope to wrap him firmly to it. He wanted to remain ungagged. He needed to take an opportunity to speak if it looked like Emma was wavering. He locked his gaze on the big-hearted brunette tied to the chair opposite him. He took in his bare torso, the bruising, the burns and the blood. “I love you. I’m so sorry.” he choked out quietly.
“Aw, ain’t that sweet. Mebbe we should let t’lad have his say afore we start.” He loosened the rag in Jared’s mouth. Jared took a short moment to consider his words. He blinked at Jensen then let his eyes fix on Emma’s. “You have to remember.” he paused “I’d never hurt you.” he switched his gaze back to Jensen and smiled sadly but fondly “I love you.” Emma shivered and stared into empty space until Laing roused her. She flexed her hand, staring down at the inked J2 figures on the back of it. She turned it over and her palm and wrist were covered in small neat writing. Over and again. Remember.
“Which one of ya is gonna start then. Don’ be shy.” Laing thumbed through a deck of cards, shuffling them expertly. The sound tore through Jensen like a physical pain and he flinched.
“I will.” They spoke together. Emma looked between them and smirked. “We should let the detective catch up.”
“I don’t want a card.” Jensen spoke up. If his voice trembled, only he sensed it. “I’m playing this game too. If I do this, I want something else.”
“Them’s not ya rules, boy.”
“You’ll enjoy it.”
Laing’s interest was peaked and Emma was leaning in to listen. “You answer a question about the game. You get to tell us about it. We can't tell because neither of us is getting out alive. We play the game right and we get to satisfy our curiosity before we die.” Jensen did his best to look nonchalant about Laing’s answer.
Laing beckoned Emma and they huddled in a corner whispering. Emma came back first. “If Ackles completes a task, he asks me something. If Jared completes a task, Karl will answer. One question and you don’t get to argue with our answers. You don’t speak unless you’re given permission. Is that clear?” Both of them affirmed with a nod.
Emma crouched in front of Jensen. She looked him in the face. “We’ll get started then. Something simple. You make a noise, you lose.” She rose and went to stand by a sturdy old workbench at the far side of the space. There was a jumble of items on it and she picked several up, turning them slowly in her hand, angling them so Jensen could see clearly. Pliers, nails, a hammer, a scalpel, a cattle prod, her fingers fondled the head of a hammer as she weighed it in her palm. “This.” She hovered over him. “Pick a finger Detective, stretch it out, curl the rest away. Would you like some help?” she showed him a smooth off-cut of wood. He opened his mouth and let her place it between his teeth. He locked eyes with her, making his fury at the situation evident. The hammer came down with a sickening crunch and tears spilled from the green-gold eyes. He bit down, his teeth leaving deep grooves in the wood. He didn’t cry out, not a sound. Laing watched from a seat in the far recess of the space. He reached to his crotch and palmed himself through his pants. Emma flushed with excitement and snatched the wood from his mouth. “Very good." she praised. "Question time.”
“Did your husband, James Painter, make the knife marks on your body?” She looked at him blankly “I don’t have any..” her voice faded as her right hand unconsciously reached to her left shoulder and began to trace a pattern.
“Agin.” Laing gestured for Emma to continue with Jensen.
Once more she considered the assortment of tools slowly, finally picking a pair of scissors and a long thin nail. She bounced the hammer in her hand and approached him. She pulled his T-shirt and hoodie away from his body and sliced roughly with scissors until they fell off his torso in strips. She massaged her hands over his chest, dug her fingers viciously into the indent of his hips and down his treasure trail. She giggled as she unbuckled his belt. “Just teasing.” she said as she dropped the buckle back onto his lap. “Same rules” she added and shoved the wood back in his mouth. She sank to the floor and removed his shoes and socks.
He curled his toes away from her hand, fear and anticipation coursing through him. He caught a whimper before it emerged and bit down harder. His jaw ached with the effort. She brushed his toes lightly, tickling them, drawing out the inevitable. He almost didn’t expect it when the the lengthy nail was driven with the force of the hammer, into the soft arch of his foot. The world blurred and span, he ground his teeth so hard he felt enamel crumble as a tooth chipped. He stayed silent. “Now, put your foot back on the floor and keep it there.” He winced and fresh tears flowed as the pain was renewed.
Laing undid his fly and put his hand inside to pull on his swollen cock. He licked his lips and masturbated crudely, showing off to his prisoners. Emma frowned and her hand pressed hard against her forehead. She was getting a headache.
Jensen asked his next question. “How did Kate get herself untied?”
She answered without delay. “There was a sharp piece of metal in the wall. She used it to cut the rope on her wrists.”
Laing reacted to this news. “The bitch got loose. Ya neveh tole me.”
Emma spoke soothingly. “Your genius netcam wasn’t working. It’s OK. She did me a favor. She killed James.”
“Ya tole me , tha’ was you.”
“I just said he got too friendly and had to go. S’OK. Your turn. I think you need to get some relief for that.” She nodded to the purple headed cock that he was gripping. She leaned against the bench, wincing with pain and rubbing at her temples with one hand while the other continued tracing patterns on her body. Her eyes closed as her breath quickened.
Laing stood in front of Jared, he twisted his face into an evil parody of a smile. “Your turn perty boy.” He pushed down his trousers and continued fisting his cock. He put his hand on the back of the brunette’s neck and pushed his face down onto it. “Suck. Ya bite, ya lose, ya spit, ya lose.” Jared cleared his mind and took a deep breath. He‘d done this hundreds of times with complete strangers, why should this be any different? It was though. If he didn’t do it then it would be forced on Jensen with no benefit, no question, and he understood the detective’s logic. He wondered why there was no police rescue and if Jensen had really come here alone. He opened his mouth and swallowed the thick length, breathing shallowly as the smell of rancid sweat reached his nose. He gagged as it was rammed hard to the back of his throat.
***
Kate floats in the everlasting blue. She needs to reach Emma. Emma is laughing, cold and deranged. She’s been laughing for too long and Kate needs to silence her. She concentrates but her arms and legs can’t move through the formless blue. Emma stays out of her reach taunting her with the sound. Kate hears a word and repeats it. ‘Remember‘. She traces in the air and a familiar pattern of smooth red lines appear. She remembers. ‘Riordan‘. The lines expand and become form, a sturdy scaffold frame. She steps on the first pole and climbs to the second. She passes over a platform and continues to weave the same familiar pattern until she’s there. She taps Emma on the shoulder and Emma turns in surprise to gaze at her mirror image. “You’re dead. Time to go.” Kate says and dismisses her with a flick of her wrist.
***
“No!” Jensen saw Emma’s eyes fly open, wide and shocked. Her fingers felt the knife on her belt and she nervously flicked at the pop fastener. Laing and Jared jumped in surprise, Laing withdrew entirely from the architect’s mouth to look over at her.
“I want you.” Emma said. She sucked her finger into her mouth and looked at Karl Laing with a sultry expression. “I’m so horny right now.” she took her wet fingers from her mouth and trailed them to her breasts. She took Laing’s hand and pulled him toward her. "Leave him for now. He can clean up." She led him to a chair, sat him down and straddled his lap, leaning over to suck on his neck. She hmmed. He pulled her close, his hands fumbled with her shirt, tugging it over her head, ripping the material. His hands were held aloft, above them both as it finally broke loose and he lost balance with it still in his hands. “Say my name,” mumbled Emma.
“Em, Emma, Christ, yes!”
“Wrong! Dumb fuck!” There was a glint as she raised her arm and light reflected from the finely made knife. She gave no time for anyone to react before she sliced, vicious, deep, clean and even into his neck and through his jugular. It really is a good weight, she thought. “My name is Katherine Elise Riordan and you lose,” she hissed. He gurgled as his blood sprayed in a fountain, coating every surface within it‘s arc. She didn’t flinch as the warm fluid splattered her face in a bad parody of a horror movie. She watched with mild interest as the life drained from him and the terror in his eyes faded into a blank stare.
Thick crimson gore dripped from the tip of her blade. "That's better," she said and turned toward Jensen.
Continued in Part 45 here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/13186.html