Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I placed the remote on my thigh, staring at the digits on it. If I pressed four, “Bestrafe Mich” by Rammstein would blare out of the speakers on the highest volume. My brother’s subtle humor would probably be lost on Shay, unless he knew that the title of the song meant “Punish me.” If I pressed five, there would be a recording of a studio audience laughing uproariously. Button number six wasn’t as heart-attack-inducing. That track started with a single breath and slowly morphed into several people panting and gasping.
Those were the three buttons River had designated for this part.
“How fucking long am I supposed to wait?” Shay snapped. “Y’all said we were starting yesterday. And all you did was forbid me to sleep. Great. Just great. Some Sadists you are.”
I pressed a fist to my mouth to prevent any laughter from slipping out. Unfortunately, the urge to clear my throat rose too fast for me to suppress it, so I had no choice but to use the audio. I pressed play on the fourth track, and the shower room was instantly flooded with loud, grinding guitars, furious drums, heavy bass, and dark, German lyrics.
The ear-piercing onslaught startled Shay, and he ducked his head as if something were coming at him.
I coughed into my fist and cleared my throat. Since the track was playing, I took the opportunity to dig out my water bottle and quench my thirst too. Then I got settled once more and turned off the music, leaving us in utter silence except for Shay’s heavy breathing.
Oh, perfect. I pressed the sixth button. I couldn’t not. One slow breath filled the air, followed by a second and a third, mocking his own breathing.
“What the fuck!” Shay fought against his restraints and turned halfway around, his ass still glued to the floor. “Is that the best you’ve got? Fuckers!”
I cocked my head at him. He was getting defensive, which could only mean one thing. The fatigue was taking its toll. Everything River was doing to him was working.
The sounds of labored breathing and gasping reached their crescendo before they faded, one breath after another.
Shay sat still in the center of the floor. About three or four feet away from a shower drain.
All alone.
His breathing evened out, and he pulled up his knee to rest his forehead on it. His profile was hauntingly beautiful. Without making a sound, I retrieved my phone and took a picture of him.
“You don’t scare me,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead against his knee. I bet the burlap sack was itchy. He flexed his fingers again too. “I’m not scared.”
I cast a glance at the ceiling. Aside from the fixed shower heads, there were several hooks attached to the ceiling for suspensions, and Shay would get a taste of that soon enough.
But not today.
The slow torture continued.
In the span of approximately ten minutes, I wore Shay down further by repeatedly pressing my thumb on two of the tracks. Ten seconds of Rammstein, ten seconds of silence, rinse and repeat until his shock morphed into anger—until he’d learned the pattern and stopped twitching whenever the track exploded in the echoing chamber. Then I let the silence stretch for a bit.
Shay waited. I could see how tense his body was as he braced himself.
Ten seconds became twenty and thirty and forty…and just as he let out a breath and thought the assault was over, I pushed play on the recorded laughter.
“Oh, come on!” he shouted over the cacophony of cackling.
I grinned, flooded with a sense of childish fucking glee.
Shay growled furiously and stomped his foot where he sat.
His transformation was incredible to witness. I wished the sack over his head wouldn’t shield his facial expressions, but his body spoke volumes anyway. He could be visibly angry and tense one second, only to deflate and come off as pitiful and weak the next.
I could only imagine his thought process, how he tried to make sense of everything, and how he struggled to prepare for the unknown.
Once the laughter had ended, he drew a long breath and rolled his shoulders. His arms being restrained that way had to hurt by now. He’d been cuffed for over an hour at this point.
And still, this was just the beginning.
The third hour was when things got really interesting.
Shay was exhausted, in pain, and had said that he needed to go to the bathroom.
Using the iPad, I sent River a message.
He’s getting upset. Should I do my pain session with him now or later?
Originally, I was going to do it after River’s interrogation, but sensing that Shay was nearing the brink of tears…
River’s reply popped up.
Unlike you, I at least try to stick to my plans. How’s he holding up otherwise?
Figures.
I responded.
The fatigue is getting to him. He needs to go to the bathroom. He’s hungry. If I could just give him a session with a whip or a flogger, I think it would stabilize him a bit. He’d get some form of release so you can continue for longer.