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10

Hayes

You couldn’t imagine my pleasure when I received a call from Greyson, demanding that Hudson and I abduct Oliver immediately for potentially aiding in Lane’s escape.

I was sorely tempted to jerk off during the call, but I’d managed to wait until after.

The only reason we had been waiting and playing it safe with some light stalking and dinner dates was because Greyson always got on us about consent and all of that shit. He was a complete hypocrite, but that actually worked to our favor in this case. He’d been against us kidnapping Oliver prior to all of this, but funnily enough, now he was giving us direct orders to do just that.

It was late—maybe an hour or two past closing time—when we stealthily climbed the steps leading to Oliver’s apartment.

We had a few options on how to proceed. Ultimately, we decided to just knock and see if he was awake; if he was, he’d most likely open the door for us, forgoing the need for us to pick the lock.

Did he completely trust us yet? No, definitely not. But we had started to build a rapport with him, so I was sure he’d let us in.

We hid our weapons; mine in my jacket, and Hudson’s on his back, tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Schooling our features so we appeared friendly and non-threatening, we stood vibrating with rare excitement as Hudson raised his fist to rap on the door.

We shared a satisfied look when we heard the light padding of Oliver’s footsteps from inside the apartment.

Unbeknownst to Oliver, the metallic click of the door unlocking sounded so similar to the locking mechanism on his new collar. The door slowly creaked open, exposing a rather tired-looking Oliver; his eyes foggy with sleep as he looked up at us through long, dark lashes.

“Hayes? Hudson? What are you doing here? We didn’t have plans, did we?” Oliver yawned, rubbing his eyes before looking at us more clearly.

“Oh, we have plans; they’re just a surprise for you,” I drawled, smiling at his confused frown.

I then pulled my handgun on him.

It took a few seconds for Oliver to process the gun pointed at his head. When he did, all color drained from his skin. His body began to tremble, and his breath came faster.

“I-I–Why…p-please, n-no,” he stammered, his eyes wide with fear. I watched intently as they pooled with crystalline tears.

“It’s alright, pet. We won’t hurt you. All you need to do is behave,” I cooed. Hudson stepped forward, grabbing Oliver’s arm as he tried to jerk away from us.

“Don’t shake so much. You look like a chihuahua,” Hudson said as he wrapped himself around our prey and walked him out the door.

“S-Sorry, just s-scared…” Oliver whispered, his voice breaking, eyes downcast.

I smiled brightly at him. “We aren’t going to hurt you if you stay quiet while we get you to our car. Think you can do that, or do I need to gag you?” I held up the ball gag that I’d stashed in my jacket. Oliver’s eyes widened at the gag as he shook his head.

“No, I-I can be good,” he said.

“Good.”

The three of us descended the stairs, meeting the black sedan we’d parked in the small alleyway. Hudson helped a shaking Oliver into the backseat as I sat behind the wheel. Before starting the engine, I turned in my seat to see my brother cuff Oliver’s wrists, then pull him onto his lap with Oliver’s legs straddling his thighs.

“I’m not sure this is a s-safe position if we crash,” Oliver nervously said under his breath.

Hudson leaned forward and sucked Oliver’s earlobe into his mouth. Oliver spluttered and tried to wiggle away from my brother. His wiggling only resulted in Hudson’s cock grinding against his crotch, causing him to gasp and bite down on his lower lip.

Hudson purred directly into Oliver’s ear, “You might be more comfortable after coming, pet.” He slid his hand under Oliver.

Oliver whined, “Stop it, Hudson! What are you—No, no, stop it! Don’t—Stop—Ohh…Oh my god.” Need swirled in my gut as I watched Hudson’s long fingers thrust in and out of our pet’s front hole. “N-no–Hudson, stop! Stop, please,” he panted, his head rolling on my brother’s shoulder as his hips began undulating.

“Come on,” Hudson demanded, quickening the pace of his thrusts, “You need to get used to coming for us, little pup.” His thumb found Oliver’s clit—or teeny-tiny dick, as I had begun thinking of it as—and began rubbing circles into it. Oliver’s panting and bitten-off moans became louder as he neared his climax.

Suddenly, his body stiffened. A long whine poured out of his slack mouth as he collapsed onto Hudson.

He clung onto Hudson, his hands bunching up the fabric of his shirt. Hudson wrapped his arms around Oliver in a hug and gave me a nod to start driving.

I pulled out of the alley, heading towards our house, listening happily to the small cries and hiccups coming from behind me.

Our trip lasted about thirty minutes, and by the end of it, Oliver had cried out all of his tears. I think he even fell asleep for a moment.

Hudson lifted him out of the car, carrying him in a bridal hold through the garage, into the house, and down the stairs to the basement. As Hudson was holding our precious cargo, I assisted in putting in the codes to our security system and locked doors. Our quaint torture room was located behind three of the heavy metal doors.

I heard a small whimper from Oliver as we entered the cement room. I understood why–the room was eerily empty besides a metal chair in the middle, a locked glass cell in the back right-hand corner, and a wall of various torture implements.

There were a few ominous dark stains underneath the chair that Oliver’s eyes focused on.

“I’m going to die,” he said dejectedly, voice so small.

“No, no. No, you probably won’t. We aren’t planning on killing you,” I explained, locking the restraints around Oliver’s wrists, ankles, and stomach after Hudson had gently placed him down on the chair.

“Why…Why am I here?” Oliver clenched his eyes closed, close to hyperventilating.

Hudson answered, “Well, I guess the main reason is that Grey’s pissed at you, but we always wanted to do this anyway.”

“H-he’s mad at me? Why? I know I wasn’t nice to Lane earlier, but I’ve been beating myself up about it all day, and I was g-gonna apologize. I really didn’t mean what I said! I’m so sorry,” Oliver wept, shaking.

“We don’t care what you said. Well, at least Hudson and I don’t care–Grey probably does. But that’s not why you’re here. He wants to know where Lane is,” I explained.

“What do you mean? He’s at Greyson’s apartment, isn’t he? I was just over there earlier.”

“No, he apparently left after your conversation. Where is he?” Hudson questioned, running his fingers through Oliver’s brown hair.

“He left? Really?” Oliver tilted his head back so that he could look up at Hudson.

I pulled a small butterfly knife from one of my pockets. Standing directly in front of Oliver, I flicked the blade open and just barely let it touch underneath his chin. As soon as he felt the pointed tip, he froze.

As I softly ran the point of the knife from his chin to his chest, he gradually returned his head to its normal position. I held the small blade at the center of his rib cage, pressing into the skin just slightly.

“Please don’t,” Oliver blurted, searching my eyes. I enjoyed the desperation, confusion, and fear in his gaze.

I shushed him, “Don’t worry. I’m just playing a bit. We decided to wait until after Greyson’s tantrum to really enjoy you, so I’m just getting a little taste now.” I flicked the knife, falling to my knees and leaning into his body. My tongue met his shivering chest, lapping up the droplets of his blood.

Fuuuuck .

Unable to control the growing need in my pants, I unbuckled and pulled my dick out, stroking it fast as I continued tonguing Oliver’s wound. My orgasm hit hard; cum sprayed out of my cock and onto the concrete floor below Oliver, joining the old blood stains.

Oliver began to wail loudly, “P-please stop, please! I won’t even tell anyone. I’ll-I can move to another state even! Please, please. I don’t understand w-what’s happening. Are you serial k-killers?” I bit back a chuckle. “Just l-let me go, please! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m… I’m s-scared.”

He continued to plead, gradually getting louder and louder. Eventually, those pleas turned to curses and threats once his anger had taken over.

“Let me go, you fucking motherfuckers!” He yelled, jerking in his restraints. All he was accomplishing was bruising himself. “You can’t just do this to people!”

The corner of my mouth tipped up slightly as I heard the sound of Greyson walking down the basement steps. I was hoping he wouldn’t take too long with whatever he wanted to do, and then Hudson and I would finally be able to show Oliver his new role in life as our slutty little pet.

As Greyson entered the room, Oliver went utterly still.

“Oliver,” Grey acknowledged him with a sneer.

“Psychopathic piece of shit!” Oliver spat at his best friend’s lover. Hudson and I laughed, amused by his rather brave outburst. I loved that he had that in him.

“Alright, little guy. Here’s your last chance. Tell your future brother-in-law what he wants to know,” Hudson quipped, smirking. Oliver bristled; I wondered if he was more thrown off by ‘future-brother-in-law’ or ‘last chance’. Greyson prowled forward to stand directly in front of Oliver. He would have towered over him anyway, but with Oliver sitting down, the size difference was crazy; I felt smug as Hudson and I were several inches taller than our brother, making our own size difference with Oliver downright obscene.

“Walk me through it. Lane never would have left on his own,” Greyson uttered contemptuously, kicking one of the metal chair legs.

“I already told them like a million times,” That was an exaggeration, “but I guess you’re all too fucking stupid to understand, so I’ll go through it again. Yes, I strongly encouraged Lane to run away with me. Keywords being with me . I haven’t heard from him since I left your apartment.”

It was fascinating watching him interact with Grey; he was so very different with us. More submissive. His hind brain already recognized us as his Masters. Sure, he had yelled and cursed us, but you could tell he was holding back. With Greyson, he was truly fighting; his hatred for him burned in his eyes. It was beautiful. I was learning so much about our new pet already.

Greyson seethed, “Are there any people besides you and his parents that he could have gone to?”

“Not that I know of.” His voice then got small as he mumbled, “I didn’t think he’d go by himself. That isn’t what I wanted.”

Greyson turned to nod at me. I knew what he wanted, and it certainly wasn’t going to gain us any progress with Oliver, but we deferred to him for a reason. He was the only reason we had survived our childhood.

“Do just one for now,” Greyson instructed. I walked to the wall holding our torture instruments, retrieving the rubber mallet. As I began walking back to Oliver, I felt a nagging from deep within telling me to stop. I reasoned with myself as I stared down at his wet face—snot and tears everywhere—that it was only psychological torture.

He hiccuped, tears falling as he begged each of us, “Please don’t. I’m s-so sorry. Please! Lane wouldn’t want you to hurt me. P-Please!” When I wouldn’t respond, he whipped his head around to catch Hudson’s gaze. He pitifully pleaded, “You… Y-you p-promised– promised you wouldn’t hurt me!”

Hudson looked at him with a blank stare—one that only I could see through—before shrugging. I almost grimaced as Oliver’s face fell in despair when Hudson answered, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

I knelt beside the chair, caught in a bubble of Oliver’s whimpers and broken sounds. He braced himself as I began to raise the mallet; his eyes clenched shut as if that would shut out the scene going on around him.

I gave a short caress to his ankle, then swung.