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13

Oliver

When I woke up, it was dark. At first, I couldn’t understand where I was, and my memories of the night before were foggy.

Everything came flooding back when I rolled over onto my back and felt pressure where there shouldn’t have been pressure.

The gun; Hudson fingering me; peeing myself; the pills; the… I couldn’t breathe.

I wanted to scream; I wanted to throw things. But I couldn’t. I think I was in shock, unable to move an inch, to swallow, to whisper, to anything.

I thought they wanted to date me.

I was so fucking dumb. So stupid.

They were going to kill me, weren’t they? The date and all the visits to my shop were all to get me to lower my guard.

A silent tear trickled from my eye. I’d just been an easy target.

The loud creak of the door opening echoed in the dismal room, jolting me out of the stupor I’d been in. Ignoring the aching discomfort from whatever was in my ass, I scrambled backwards until my back was flat against the wall of the glass box cell thing I was in.

When I managed to glance up, I found Hayes standing near the door of my cell, holding a tray.

“I have breakfast. Mind if I come in?” he asked politely.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, but I don’t think I have a choice,” I responded cuttingly.

Hayes’s lips quirked up. “No, you don’t. Be good, and stay still until I close the door.” He tapped a code into the electronic lock, opening the door once it beeped. The door closed and locked behind him, leaving us locked in together. Hayes walked over to where I was sitting, lowering himself to the floor and placing the tray between us. I watched him suspiciously as he gestured to the food. “It’s just oatmeal and toast. I wasn’t sure if you’d be nauseous after last night, so it’s nothing special, but won’t bother your stomach.”

I glared at him, but pulled the tray closer to me. I looked at the cup beside the food. “Is that apple juice?”

“Yes. I figured your sugar might’ve crashed after all the excitement. I can bring you more if you finish that cup.”

I stared blankly at it. “Why did you do this?”

His head tilted. “I’m assuming you’re not asking about breakfast?” I nodded, my gaze lowered to avoid eye contact. He sighed, “Didn’t we go over this last night?”

“Yeah, but… I—” Hayes cut me off.

“Shh, pet.” I flinched as he reached over to pet my hair. “This was how it was always going to end up.”

My breathing quickened. I snapped, “But what is this? I just need to know if I’m going to be killed, or—or harvested for organs, or pimped out, or—”

“Oliver,” Hayes said, his voice low and firm, “be quiet. None of that is happening.”

I burst out into a waterfall of tears. I sobbed, “I’m scared. I don’t understand! I don’t want to be here!” Hyperventilating, I struggled to keep speaking. “I just—please—I-I don’t want—to—die.” Hayes pulled me onto him, rotating me so that we were chest to chest.

“Breathe. Breathe with me, baby,” he instructed. He hugged me tightly, pressing my face into his chest. I tried to follow his inhales and exhales. “Good boy. Keep breathing with me. Good job. I know this is a big transition for you, and it’s going to be difficult getting used to your new life.”

I whimpered, “My… new life?” Hayes reached a hand behind me to pull the breakfast tray to him. He brought the cup of apple juice to my lips, smiling when I cautiously opened my mouth to drink.

“You will live as mine and Hudson’s pet.” Setting the cup down, he began to feed me the rest of my meal as he continued to talk. “You won’t stay down here for long. It’s just for a few days, or until you’re ready to go upstairs.”

“But what does that mean? Being your pet? I-I-I don’t understand. You’re fucking insane,” I exasperated.

“Well, it’s just what it sounds like. You’ve never heard of pet play?” I was going to scream. Was he saying they kidnapped me for a kinky fantasy of theirs?

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you guys?” I fumed, using the weird mitten contraptions on my hands to push away the toast Hayes was nudging against my pursed lips. He rolled his eyes at me, taking a bite and tossing it aside.

“Many things,” he divulged, a slow smirk spreading across his chiseled face. “But I promise we’ll be dedicated owners. If you’re good, you’ll want for nothing. You’ll have all the toys, treats, and attention you want.”

I hesitated, my eyebrows furrowed, “What if I’m bad?” I yelped as Hayes lunged forward, knocking me onto the ground and wrapping his hand around my throat. I swallowed nervously as he hovered above me, predatory intent clear in his expression. Lowering his body so that it covered my own, he rolled his hips, grinding his erection over my embarrassingly tiny shorts.

My jaw clenched as I held back a moan from his frotting. Hayes tightened his grip around my throat, causing me to gasp for air.

He leaned his head to the side, breathing into my ear. His voice wrapped around my brain as he murmured lowly, “Do you want to find out, pet? There are so many delicious ways to punish you.” My chest burned as his hand around my neck squeezed even harder.

I choked out, “N-no, I-I’ll be good.”

“Have you noticed that your shorts get wetter the harder I choke you?” he purred, leaving his one hand on my throat but using his other to travel seductively down my body, petting me all the way down to my intimate area. My breath hitched as his fingers slid underneath the waistband.

“Wait, H-Hayes, don’t,” I gasped.

“How many fingers did Hudson use in this dripping boy cunt of yours?” My brain stuttered at his vulgar language. Hayes pushed a finger into me, his voice dangerously sultry as he demanded, “Oliver, speak.” His finger pumped in and out with great force.

“T-two. Please, don’t,” I panted.

He hummed, pushing in a second finger, “Two isn’t nearly enough to prepare you for our cocks.” I whined pitifully, my hips shaking, as I listened to the wet slapping of his palm against my skin. Every once in awhile, he’d grind his palm down onto my dick.

“I’m close,” I whimpered.

He tsked. “You can come, but I’m not stopping until your greedy little hole takes four of my fingers.”

“I can’t—that’s too much,” I begged, tears welling up in my eyes as I stared up at him.

“Shhh.”

“B-but—”

“Shut up, pet, unless you want to bleed when I fuck you,” he hissed, forcing a third finger into me. I thrashed underneath him, but it meant nothing when he was more than double my body weight. My hole stung.

Some stinging was better than tearing, though.

God, it felt like too much. My mind felt fuzzy, on the verge of going blank completely. And then I was coming, unable to hold it as Hayes curled his fingers to thrust against my G-spot. I sobbed and trembled as he finally pushed in the fourth finger during my toe-curling orgasm. The hand around my throat disappeared, instead pressing on my lower stomach as he continued his thrusting almost his entire hand into me.

“No!” I shrieked, feeling a familiar urge rising. “Stop, stop—Hayes! Hayes, I-I’m gonna pee! Please, stop, stop, stop—ah, ah!” My pleas were ignored; his hand moving so quickly that it blurred.

“Let it go, pet. Give it to me,” Hayes demanded, his face flushed and eyes burning with intensity.

“Nooo, p-please, please, it’s coming, n—” The world went white; fireworks going off in my brain. I wailed as I felt the warmth gushing out of me.

Hayes finally removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them one by one.

“That’s dirty, don’t…” I said brokenly.

His eyes seemed to soften as he said, “It’s not pee, precious. You squirted. You did such a good job, letting so much out for me. Such a good boy. Absolutely perfect.” My limp body melted at the praise. “You like being my good boy?” I gave him the tiniest of nods, refusing to meet his eyes. “You’re so damn perfect. Fuck. Look at you, fucked-out, soaked, and owned. Our beautiful boy.”

“Fuck, Hayes. You were supposed to wait for me to get back,” Hudson’s accusatory voice resounded across the basement room, surprising me since I hadn’t even heard the door open. I was too exhausted to bother turning my head to see him, so I just closed my eyes and listened to the twins’ conversation.

“I haven’t fucked him. Just got him stretched out on my fingers,” Hayes said, pausing after. I listened as he let out a frustrated sigh. He leaned over my prone body to gently stroke my cheek. “Rest for a moment, pup. We’ll get you cleaned up right after we finish fixing Hudson’s mess.” His hand patted my cheek, before he rose and left my peripheral. The beeping noise signaled to me that he had unlocked the door to my glass cage. A moment later, the subsequent beep told me it was locked again.

A quiet gurgling noise registered, almost completely drowned out by their voices.

Hudson argued out of sight, “Look, I know it’s not ideal, but I was instructed to have some fun before getting rid of him.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Hudson. Fuck… Okay. They want anything specific, or were we given free rein?” Hayes asked.

“Free rein,” Hudson promptly responded. “And maybe this could be helpful. Y’know, showing a certain little puppy what we’re capable of.” My mind was still hazy, but my ears perked up—he was definitely talking about me.

“If it backfires, it’s on you. Got it?” There was the sound of tape being ripped off of something, and then screams.

My body instinctively reacted; my head whipped towards the source of the noise. Then, I froze.

Someone was in the chair.

* * *

The man appeared to be in his late thirties; his black hair was just starting to show some salt in its strands. His back was facing me, so I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but I could make an educated guess based on the screaming that it wasn’t a happy one.

Hudson was quick to notice my attention. He smiled at me, causing shivers to creep down my spine. “Morning, pup. Sorry, I missed breakfast, but I brought back some entertainment!” Hayes groaned from beside him.

“Grey would advise against this,” he muttered, a small frown on his face as we made eye contact.

Hudson scoffed, “Well, I don’t see him here, plus Oliver is ours; therefore, we get to make the rules.” Inopportune time that it was, I still couldn’t help but be reminded of Lane at the mention of their brother’s name.

“Is Lane okay?” I called out, my voice wavering. Not that I deserved to be so worried after what I’d said to him, but I just needed him to be okay.

Hayes responded, “Yes, Greyson found him a few hours ago and took him home.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that before you fingered me?” Oh, fuck. Luckily, instead of hurting me for my insolence, the twins burst out in laughter.

“No. Fingering you took precedence,” Hayes taunted. My heart, acting traitorously as always, skipped in my chest at his easy banter. I was quick to remind it that there was literally a stranger tied up in what I assumed—based on my own experiences and the various blood stains on the cement below it—was their torture chair.

“We should turn him around so Oliver can watch,” Hudson said, referring to the stranger in the chair.

Hayes grunted, “The chair’s bolted to the ground, idiot.”

Yes, yes, as it should remain. Please.

“Stop spoiling the fun. Why don’t we undo the guy and have him straddle the back of the chair?” Hudson suggested.

Nope, no; no need to go to such lengths.

I watched with bated breath as Hayes thought it over, nodding his agreement after little internal debate.

After some rearranging on their part, I made the asinine mistake of looking at the man’s face, which led to me accidentally making eye contact with him.

“Help, please!” he begged, his tear-stained face already so bruised-up that I couldn’t picture what the man normally would’ve looked like. “Please! They’re insane!”

Hudson clucked, “Not sure if you’ve realized it, buddy, but your requested savior isn’t in a position to assist.”

“I’m sorry,” I struggled to say, eaten up by his desperate pleas.

Hayes snapped, grabbing the stranger’s hair painfully, “Stop fucking looking at him or I’ll tear out your eyes.”

“That sounds fun, actually,” Hudson mused.

“ Actually,” mimicked Hayes, “I just thought of a fun game we could play.” Jesus Christ. I did not need to be a character in a Saw movie today.

“Um… how about we don’t do that?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, pet. You’d just be a spectator. Ford here is the contestant, I’ll be the host, and Hudson will be the Vanna White,” said Hayes, earning a look of confusion from his brother.

“I’m sorry, but who?” Hudson’s brow knitted.

The man they had been calling Ford said, “That lady who reveals the letters on the board.”

Hayes backhanded him. “No one asked you.”

At the same time, Hudson snapped his fingers and recalled, “Ohhh! I don’t have any dresses lying around, but I’ll do my best.” I almost laughed as he winked over at me.

“Well then. Here’s how it’ll go. I’ll ask Ford some questions, and if he answers them correctly, nothing will happen. If he answers incorrectly, Hudson will break one of his fingers with a hammer.”

Holy fuck.

Ford yelled, panicked, “Hell, no! Fucking lunatics. Why would I agree to that?”

Hayes chuckled, “You’re going to die either way. If you refuse to play, I’ll skin your face and dump lemon concentrate on you. If you play and answer the questions correctly, we’ll just put a bullet in your skull. So, what’ll it be?”

“Fuck. Fine. I’ll play your fucking game,” Ford sneered, sweat dripping down his face, as his eyes tracked Hudson grabbing a hammer off the tool wall. For a split second, I almost thanked the doomed man; I did not want to ever witness the torture Hayes had described.

“Great!” said Hayes. “Question one… let’s see. Did you enjoy poisoning your wife?”

“What?” I blurted. Hayes circled the chair like a predator, throwing a brief smile over his shoulder at me.

“I—What? I did no such thing!” Ford protested, his face growing red.

Crunch.

I stared in shock at Ford’s newly mangled pointer finger.

“Oops—hand slipped,” Hudson cooed mockingly.

Hayes sighed, “You’re supposed to wait until I say whether the answer’s correct or not.”

“Ugh, fine. Go on.”

“Question two, then. Did you really think she wouldn’t figure it out?” Hayes asked, looking blankly at the man spluttering and wriggling below him.

“She—Did Sheila put you up to this?” Ford shrieked.

“Do you have a defective brain? It’s a yes or no answer,” Hayes grunted.

“Fuck! I didn’t fuckin—”

Crunch.

“Listen, buddy. We’re not the cops, and we already know the answers, so the smartest move would be to just answer the questions,” Hayes griped, a look of contempt shrouding his face.

“B-but why—if you already know…” Ford bit out as he struggled to speak between gasps of pain.

“Because it’s fun,” Hudson answered.

“Alright, question three. Do you know that your online mistress is a catfish?”

“Ivanka? She’s not fake! We’ve been together for three years!”

Hayes huffed in amusement. “Well, I guess you chose no, which is technically correct, even though she is indeed a catfish.” Ford breathed a harsh sigh of relief.

“Aw, damn…” pouted Hudson, looking longingly at Ford’s hand.

“Next question,” continued Hayes. “Do you deserve to live?”

“Yes! Y-yes, please! Ple—”

Crunch.

Another grating scream.

“You’re no fun to play with, Ford. We’re getting rather bored here. Aren’t we, pet?” My eyes came back into focus, meeting Hayes’s line of sight. I didn’t appreciate that I was already responding to pet as my title.

“S-sorry, what?” I stammered.

Hayes’s lips tipped up as he softly replied, “You’re bored, yes? You want the game to be over?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Yes.”

My body reacted to the gunshot before my brain did, hunching into myself at the noise.

“There. All done,” Hayes sang.

I made the mistake of peeking through my fingers towards his voice. Blood pooled under the chair, covering the preexisting stains, making me wonder exactly how many lives had been lost—how many times this room had been graced with death herself.

Would she soon be back for me?