Page 47 of Frat Row

The agony throbbing in my arms pulls me from the darkness, bringing me back to the present.

I sluggishly open my eyes, not wanting to see the mess I am in now.

Facing it head-on, I frantically take in my predicament.

My stomach sinks as I come to. My arms are suspended above my head with my wrists tied into an intricate knot and attached to an elongated hook hanging from a metal rod that extends to each side of the room, anchoring me.

A cool breeze brushes my skin, and I suddenly notice that I am naked and exposed.

Looking down, I see that the tops of my toes are barely brushing the floor.

That is when I glimpse the multiple drains in the floor, coated in a nasty, rust-colored substance that matches the splotches on the walls.

There are no windows, and the walls appear to be deteriorated concrete, suggesting that this place has been here for a while, something you would see if you stripped away a building to the studs.

Sheer panic consumes me when I look over and see a leather apron hanging with rubber boots alongside it and a table of assorted tools, pliers of all sizes, a hammer, axes, a chainsaw, and other tools I do not know the name of. All are spread out in a neat line with sharp or jagged edges.

At least my torturer is organized. Wow, what a relief. The tools are clean.

My arms feel as if they are going to rip out of their sockets. I must have been out for a while. Suddenly, it all floods back to me in a jumbled mess—leaving the warehouse, meeting Martin, going into his house, eating dessert, and touring the home.

It was all a setup to catch me off guard and believe his facade. But why? Why show any type of kindness and then inevitably hold me in a place I knew was a possibility?

It is all part of his ruse.

The heavy footsteps outside the concrete door grow louder as they approach. One by one, the assortment of locks is unlocked, and Martin strolls in, whistling to himself.

“Hello, my dear Cassidy,” he croons in a calm but terrifying voice.

I swallow a lump in my throat as sweat beads and slips down between my breasts.

He walks over to me and yanks on the rope, pulling my arms from my body further, and a loud cry is wrenched from my lips from the shock of the pain. My skin is crawling from the evil aura he gives off.

“You can give me the silent treatment now, but you’ll be really talkative here soon when we begin, pleading for me to stop.” There’s a danger lurking in his eyes, accompanied by a twisted grin.

“Begin what?” I startle, my voice cracking.

Martin pats me on the head before grabbing my face harshly between his hands, possessively growling, “You are mine. I own every inch, every crevice of you. You are breathing because I allow it.”

He turns his head, eyes focused on the table of tools, and gestures to them with a sick smile on his face; silence ensues as he studies me, waiting for a reaction.

“You can’t expect me to think you’re going to use those on me,” I whisper, shaking in disbelief, uneasiness spreading through my stomach.

“Cassidy, how many times do I have to remind you? You are my property, and I will do whatever I damn well please to you.” He brushes his hand up and down over the tools, savoring my anticipation and fear.

I release a shaky breath as his eyes roam over me.

Martin selects a long wrench and comes back over to me. While standing in front of me, he drags it lightly from my wrists and over my nose and mouth, pausing on my right breast.

Cupping underneath my breast and yanking it toward him, he latches on, sucking and biting down on my nipple.

Fighting every instinct not to cry out, I squirm, trying to get away from him.

At last, the burn wins out, and I let out a guttural scream as he bites even harder until his teeth are under my skin and blood oozes out.

Tears drip down my cheeks, completely at his mercy, wiggling relentlessly, wanting to block this out or, at the very least, focus on the other pain in my arms.

Martin laps at the blood pouring from my nipple, erotically licking, sucking, and pulling on my entire breast.

“As I was saying, I own every piece of you. You are nothing more than the plot of land I bought yesterday.” He leans back and continues dragging the wrench down my navel, stopping at my pussy.

He takes the wrench and drags it between my legs, lifting it to his nose and smelling it.

My core pulses as I brace my body for the inevitable torture.

“Ahh, just what I thought. What a sweet smell.” He then licks the wrench, tasting my juices.

“You taste divine,” he purrs in my ear.

My blood runs cold as my head spins. Resuming the mental torment, he carries on stroking the wrench down my body until he gets to my toes, tapping every toe on both of my feet as I am paralyzed with dread.

“Why are you doing this?” I bravely blurt out.

“The question you should be asking is, why not? When you are a man like me who has the world at his fingertips, I want what others cannot have, cannot even fathom. Human flesh. The total power over another person, knowing that at any moment I could take your life if I so wish it.”

Reeling at what he just said, my stomach coils, and I ask, “So there have been others you have done this to?”

He throws his head back and laughs heartily. “Oh, my dear girl, there have been many, many others. Men, women, children. Specifically, whatever I am craving at any given moment. My appetite knows no bounds, and it is insatiable,” he taunts.

“All of this is some kind of sick game to you from the moment I met you?”

“Oh yes, I love filling your stomach, getting you comfortable, having you under the impression that kindness is going to be bestowed on you after what you endured at the auction house, and then having you wake up here.

It is always the same, and the delight that washes over me knowing it was all premeditated and I was the puppet master the entire time, it's unmatched,” Martin joyfully reveals.

“You’re a sadistic fuck,” I snarl, shaking my head at him.

“Oh, Cassidy, I am just a wealthy man who gets bored with his wife and can come down here and let this little persona of mine out of his cage. I get off on pain. In fact, I wish I could bottle it up and bathe in it.”

I’m frozen, but I must keep him talking. He is a narcissist and loves talking about himself, so I will just play the part of ignorance, which I am sure he will just eat up.

“What kind of pain?” I wince, not wanting an in-depth answer from him.

“Every kind, but physical pain is what really does it for me. I love watching blood flow from another’s body from what I inflicted. I have been obsessively going through scenarios about exactly what I want to do to you tonight since you have been sleeping, and I haven’t come to a decision yet.”

“Sleeping? You drugged me!” I spat at him angrily.

“Same thing. You were quite fond of the milk.” He shrugs indifferently.

I think back to the glass of milk he gave me. He was across the room when he grabbed the glasses. He could have crushed anything into the glass and had it prepared before I even got there.

Just like an innocent lamb, so na?ve for the slaughter.

“Look at your tight little body.” He lays his hand on his bulge, stroking it up and down. “We really are going to have the best time together.” He nuzzles the side of my neck, inhaling deeply

“I doubt that,” I snap back.

He goes over to his tools of torture again, walking back and forth, causing chills to break out across my skin.

My hands are numb, having lost all feeling, and my head hangs down, wishing my mind could drift away from here.

Martin selects surgical-looking pliers. They are silver and appear to be about two feet long.

Holy fucking shit. This guy really does get off on extreme torture.

Sucking on my bottom lip as firmly as possible, I try to prevent myself from shaking.

“I love inflicting pain on others. The screams, the crying, the fear, the helplessness, and the begging, all of it gets me off in a way nothing else does,” he whispers more to himself than to me.

“I spend all day in the OR, operating on patients that are asleep and can’t feel the pain I’m inflicting. ”

Of course, I would get a sadist as my master.

He clasps the top of a metal chair and tows it over until he is sitting about three feet in front of me. He props one of his ankles on top of his thigh so that he can rest the pliers on his lap.

“The goal is not to mar you just yet. You are my new plaything. I want to extend my time with you as long as possible. I wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours, at least not for a while,” he claims. eerily calm.

“I will extract piece by piece from you until you are broken down to the point you plead with me to take your life. The fire will eventually leave your eyes, and it will give me immense pleasure. And so, the cycle goes on.”

“I will kill you!” I shout, not knowing where that bravery came from as it glided through my lips.

He laughs maniacally. “Many have tried throughout the years, but all have failed. You are at my disposal and have no leverage here.” He waves his hand up and down, motioning to the predicament I’m in.

“I don’t know how you and this organization have gotten away with this for so long, but I will burn it to the ground,” I boldly shriek at him.

“Oh, my dear, you do not know the half of it and all the powerful people behind it. We get away with murder while people sit on death row.” He snickers.

“Enough of the small talk; let's get started, shall we?”