Suffer the Flesh (13 page)

“Unzip his pants,” Zoey said. “Hurry. Pull them down. Underwear too.” When Tamara finished, Zoey said, “Now get up, and hold the gun on him. We’ll shoot the fucker if we have to. Won’t bother me one bit.”

Tamara climbed off, and the gagged man started to buck, kicked his legs, tried to throw Zoey off. She leaned back and grabbed his testicles. Immediately his movements stopped. She squeezed, tightened the grip. He grunted, spasmed once.

“Now get up. Nice and easy.” She slid off his torso, her hand a death-grip on his balls, and she led him off the floor. Walked him across the room that way, directed him to the rack.

“Jess, tie him down.”

His wrists and ankles were secured, and he screamed into the gag.

Zoey rushed to the front of the room, Tamara directly behind her. “We’ll have to do this again in a minute. Kill the lights and—”

But Pete burst into the room.

 “Kurt! Kurt! Guess what I found! Bloody rags, and a toilet full of—”

For a moment nobody moved. Just stared at one another in shock, until Pete broke the freeze.

“Ah, shit!” he said, reaching for the gun jutting from his waistband.

Zoey attacked, slamming into the wall, pinning him back. He recovered quickly and yanked the gun out of his pants. She grabbed his wrist, and they struggled for control.

Tamara charged his legs, knocking him off balance. The gun flew out of his hand and clattered out of reach on the floor. He lost his footing and landed hard on his ass, grunting.

Tamara pounced, flying through the air like some overgrown trapeze artist and landed solidly on his stomach, every drop of air squeezed out of his lungs, all two hundred fifty plus pounds pinning him down. His hands slammed the floor, punched violently at her as he frantically tried to draw a breath. She pressed harder, not allowing him the luxury of air.

His skin tone changed from magenta to eggplant to grayish blue. Even after it was apparent he was dead, she wouldn’t get up.

“Way to go,” Zoey said, grinning. “You can get up, Tamara. He’s dead.”

“I-I can’t,” she said, voice quivering. Her T-shirt had ridden up, exposing fleshy, cocoa butt cheeks. “I’m shaking too much.”

“Okay then, take it easy.” She closed the door, looked back. “You gonna fuck him or what?”

Tamara coughed, slowly rolled off his corpse.

Across the room, Jessica was tightening the tension on the rack restraints. Zoey remembered a story she’d heard as a child, about a demented family that lived in the woods and would capture wayward travelers wandering the dusty back road. The traveler would be tested on the rack. If his limbs were too long, they would chop pieces away until he was a perfect fit. If he was too short, his arms and legs were stretched, tearing from his body, until he became the perfect length for the rack. The rare, lucky man was the one who was already the perfect length, and they would let him go.

Kurt screamed as his wrists were stretched to agonizing lengths. Screams that were muffled by the gag and rose up from his throat. Movement had become agony, so he stopped thrashing.

“Want me to sit on that asshole, too?” Tamara asked.

“No,” Jessica said. “This one’s mine.” She fondled his swollen testicles and then squashed them, her face reddening with the strain.

Tears streamed out of his eyes.

Tamara struggled to her feet and yanked her T-shirt over her ample frame. “‘One more turn of the rack, baby.’ Isn’t that what you said to me before, asshole?” She hovered over him, spit in his face.

He sobbed, turned his head from side to side, eyes pleading.

Jessica cranked the handle, having to use her body to propel it. One more powerful jerk and they heard a pop! and saw his shoulder dislocate. The ruptured testicle was the least of his problems. Tiny blood vessels exploded on his cheeks, his red face tinged with blue, every muscle in his neck corded.

“Now what?” Tamara asked.

“We’ve got guns,” Zoey said. “Let’s use them.”

Chapter 13

F
orming a plan was next to impossible because they didn’t know what they were up against. Didn’t know where the other men were, what they were doing.

The four women sat propped beside or against the closed door because it didn’t lock, and they didn’t need any more surprises.

“Been a long time now," Tamara said. “Someone’s bound to come by to see what’s going on.”

“That’s true,” Zoey said. She’d started bleeding again and was using Pete’s shirt to staunch the flow. “I doubt they’ll come one at a time. We’re not that lucky. Hey, when you guys were in the cafeteria, how many of them were there?”

“Eight, maybe more.” Jessica sighed, massaging her temples. “And they all had guns.”

Kim yawned, stretched. “Sorry I missed all the fun tonight. Wish I could have seen you all in action.”

“You were really out of it, baby,” Tamara said, rubbing Kim’s shoulder.

“I thought I was going to die. It was impossible to breathe. These guys aren’t fooling around.

“You have a plan, Zoey?” Jessica asked.

“I was thinking about the observation room above Room Two.” Zoey picture the layout and tried to imagine a way down the endless corridor to reach the stairwell to the observation room. “They seem to be gathered there. But that door’s usually locked.”

“They unlocked everything,” Tamara said. “Most of the doors are open. They must know what’s up there. They’re probably using it. They had video equipment, and that’s a perfect spot to shoot from.”

“That’s our best chance,” Zoey said.

“If you get caught up there, you’re trapped. No way out, probably.” Kim’s voice was weak.

“You can say that about any area down here. No place is safe. Sitting in here ain’t safe.” Tamara stood, went to check on Kurt tied to the rack. He’d stopped struggling a while ago and emitted a constant low-grade whine.

“Here’s my idea,” Zoey said. “Kim stays and rests. She’s no use to us right now.”

Kim opened her mouth but Zoey shook her head. “They nearly killed you, Kim, and you’re too out of it to go hunting. I’ll take a gun and see if I can get upstairs. Tamara, Jessica, you stay here and try to handle whatever comes through that door.”

“Uh-uh, I’ll go with you,” Tamara said. “You might need help.”

“Kim needs help right now. And Jessica won’t be ale to handle the men by herself. We really can’t use the guns, unless we have no choice. Gunshots would bring them running, and then we’re dead for sure.”

Tamara sat beside them, crossed her thick legs at the ankles, and pulled her T-shirt over her knees.

Jessica looked from Kurt to Pete and then back to the women. “If those guys see this, we’re all dead.”

No one responded. Zoey imagined they were all experiencing the same fear and dread that consumed her. “Let’s go,” Zoey said, getting up. “Let’s do this.”

Kim leaned against the wall, doubled over. Tamara led her to the corner of the room and made her lie down.

“Be on alert,” Zoey said. The gun felt massive, and it scared her. She’d never held one before. Living in New York City, she’d never had the need for one. Pistol permits were nearly impossible to get unless you had a dangerous, high profile job, one where you needed security. As a computer technician, there wasn’t much reason for her to own a gun.

“Safety off,” Jessica said, pointing at the pistol. “Otherwise you won’t get far.”

“Safety?” Zoey studied the firearm, had no clue where the safety was.

Jessica pointed it out. “It’s a Beretta. Slide that back. Cock the hammer, aim and shoot. Simple.”

Zoey smiled, rolled her eyes. “Yes, simple. Sure. Piece of cake.” She tossed Pete’s bloody shirt on his corpse. She rested against the door for a moment, building courage to turn the knob, to take that first step outside the security blanket of the room.

She nodded once, peered into the hall. Empty.

The stairwell leading to the observation area was at the far end of the hall, above Room Two, about thirty feet away. Took that first step out, her toes touching the cold tiles. Slowly at first, she walked past open doors that revealed nothing but dark, gaping maws. Moved faster, feet slapping, sounding like thunderclaps in the stillness of the corridor.

She was nearly there when a door she had just passed suddenly opened.

Bile filled her throat as she panicked. No place to hide, not even a tiny alcove to stuff herself into. A searing pain shot through her temples, and she leaned into the wall as if hoping to be obscured by it.

Two men stepped into the hall, facing away from her. She recognized one as Jeff, the freak from the nursery who liked to watch. The one who had pissed on her. They started walking down the hall, in the direction she had just come from. She held her breath, her body trembling, and she desperately wanted to scream.

“Close the goddamned door,” Jeff said. “You raised in a barn or something?”

“Fuck it, let
them
close it. I’m sick of this shit Zack’s got us doing. I didn’t agree to this when I paid my goddamned fortune.”

The sound of Jeff’s laughter followed them down the hall.

Her legs didn’t want to work. She forced herself to turn, to make it the last few feet to the stairwell.

The door was open. Once inside, she listened for movement. No voices, but heard the humming of equipment, and a light slapping sound. The old wooden staircase was solidly built, and she hoped it wouldn’t creek. One step, stop, listen. Then another. She didn’t know the layout of the room above. If someone was there, would she see his face, or his back?

The gun nearly slipped from her slick fingers. Sweat trickled down her face. Three more steps to the top. Two. The next step would bring her near the landing, would expose her head.

She couldn’t do this. Every nerve in her body was charged, every muscle over-wound. Every step a discovery in self-reliance.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn back. Maybe they’d forgive her, go easy on her.

Maybe they’d torture and kill her.

One more step. Tiny step.

She forced the step and peered over the edge. Discovered the source of the slapping noise.

He was sitting in a swivel chair, deeply engrossed in whatever was happening below. His engorged cock was in his hand, and he was beating off. His body was at an angle, not quite facing away.

She waited. He threw back his head and groaned, pounded harder. Cum spurted onto his hand, and he was lost in the throes of orgasm.

Zoey sprang up behind him, seized his testicles, and clamped down.

His eyes popped open and then his mouth, a look of utter shock on his face. “What the fuck?” He tried to move away but she squeezed tighter, and he doubled over.

She pressed the gun against the back of his head. “Don’t move, or I’ll rip them right off and shove them down your throat.”

Now what?
She hadn’t thought this would work and didn’t have part two planned.

“The fuck?” he muttered.

“Shut your mouth,” she snapped, pressing the gun harder, at the same time applying more pressure to his balls.

His gun rested on the console a few feet away.

“I’m going to start moving you to the floor. I suggest you follow, unless you want two foot testicles. Nice and slow now.”

She pulled him in the direction she wanted and he followed, his hands splayed out in front of his body.

She raised her arm and cocked it back, and with a powerful swing smashed him in the back of his head with the gun.

He collapsed the rest of the way, landing hard. Blood seeped from the head wound.

She pulled her hand out from beneath his body, hoping he was unconscious, no way to know for certain. Using extension cords she yanked from outlets, carefully watching him every few seconds, she tightly bound his hands and feet. Her gun was on the floor beside her, inches away, but he didn’t move. Using a third cord, she hog-tied his hands and feet together behind his back. Grabbed the towel draped on the back of the chair and stuffed part of it in his mouth, wrapped the rest around his head and tied it at the back of his neck.

She raced downstairs and closed and locked the door. Rushed back up. Her prisoner hadn’t moved. Video cameras mounted on tripods or secured to posts were recording the room below. She reached to shut them off but changed her mind. If she somehow survived this, the tapes would be evidence.

Zoey looked at the room below the observation area. Horrified, her mouth fell open.

Chapter 14

E
veryone was there, other than the three she left behind in Room Six. The women, guards, visitors, even James. The torture devices Jessica had described were in the room as well, and they were in use.

Dizzying waves overpowered her, and she gripped the console. Couldn’t watch this, had never seen anything like it. On the panel she noticed the volume button and turned it on.