Page 32 of The Player

“It’s just meat, nothing else,” I said, trying to help her through this.

Needle dick started shaking, his body reacting to whatever drug had been put into the needles, but I stayed focused, running from the table to him and slamming the needles in, pushing, then running to get more.

Over and over we went. Filling his stomach, his thighs, and his ass full of needles.

As we did, the time ticked down, but I focused on the table, feeling relief when I saw the pile diminishing as we worked as a team. Needle after needle after needle. So many fucking needles. But we were winning. We’d got this.

The guy swung in his chains, looking like a fucking pin cushion as he hung from the ceiling. His eyes bled as white froth that couldn’t make it through his mouth came spurting out of his nose. The jerks from his muscles subsided as the drugs dragged him under, taking him straight to Hell, but we never gave up. Even when the stench of death and the filth that left his body as he died filled our nostrils and made it difficult to breathe, we kept on. Our task was to dispense them all. We wouldn’t stop until we did.

One minute passed, and the needles began to scatter on the table as they became fewer and fewer. We were on the last lap, and we were winning. We had to win.

I scooped up the last pile of needles and raced over to him, stabbing them into his chest and panting as I stood back.

But nothing happened.

No green light.

What the fuck was going on?

“We used all the needles!” Bryony shouted, spinning around to try and aim her voice to wherever he was listening. “Why aren’t you turning the lights green, you fucking freak?”

“Maybe we missed one?” I replied, running back to the table, scrabbling around, checking every inch, but there was nothing. So I crouched down, looking on the floor, seeing if by chance we’d dropped one. But again, there was nothing.

Twenty seconds.

Nineteen.

Eighteen.

“No! No! No!” Bryony shouted, her hands shooting into her hair as she pulled the strands in frustration.

“What the fuck am I missing?” I shouted, my heart now pounding in my ears. This wasn’t fucking happening.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

And then I saw it.

A knitting needle lying at the edge of the room, hidden in the shadows.

“Fucking bastard,” I screamed, darting across to get it and then charging over to the mark.

Five.

Four.

With three seconds to go, I stabbed it into his eyeball, a primal shout coming from the depths of my soul as I inserted the last fucking needle.

And then, the room fell silent.

Two.

One.

And the green light came on.

I panted, doubling over and bracing my hands on my knees as I caught my breath.