The Executioner (11 page)

I change the subject when I see a rack of dresses hanging in the dressing room we’re seated in that looks more like a five star suite. “I love that dress,” I say as I rise, going over to finger it. I’m shocked when Selena makes her way over and takes it off the hanger to give it to me. “You can have it.” She reads the shocked expression on my face and hugs me. “I told you, you’re part of the family.

Tears well up in my eyes because this is the first time in my life I have ever been part of anything. I know I can’t leave Trent but the thing about it is…I don’t want to.

The three of us look up when there is a tap at the door and a voice informs us that the men are through with their meeting.

We make our way out and say our goodbyes. I feel good with the buzz I have going on, but better about being part of something that is bigger than I am.

Trent grabs my arm, pulling me out the door and seating me in the car. I can’t read him. His face looks like stone and it’s scaring me a little.

“Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?”

He looks over at me through hooded eyes and raises a sardonic brow. “Should you be?”

My answer is to look away and stare out the window as I search my mind. Suddenly the space in the car seems too small; Trent seems to take it all up with his intensity. I have never been around anyone who affects me like he does and I don’t know how to deal with him. I find myself becoming more and more nervous and by the time we make it up to his mansion, my heart is racing.

As soon as he opens the door, I take off running and all I hear is a sadistic laugh ringing in my ears from behind me. I run up to the bedroom and quickly hide in the closet to avoid him. Something is wrong. He’s pissed and I don’t know why. I don’t fucking want to know why either. My ass is still burning from the caning I got and getting another one isn’t on my agenda for this evening.

“I can smell you—you smell like prey. Predator wants to play,” he taunts me, making his way into the closet. I crouch back into the corner, looking up at the terrifying hooded man above me. The hoodie juts out from his face, casting shadows on the menacing bone structure of a killer.

He jerks the dress I am holding onto tightly and close to my body as if it will protect me.

“Do you think that I need another man to buy clothes for my woman? He gives me no time to answer as he continues, “Did you do any coke tonight? Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I don’t do street drugs. You know that. And Selena gave the dress to me. I would never take a dress from another man. He was at the table with you all night. How could he have given me anything?”

I watch in horror as he takes the dress and tears it from top to bottom and repeats my own words back to me.

“Curious prey, curious prey, let me whisper my intentions into your curious ear.”

He reaches down, fisting my dress, and pulls me right up into his face. My legs are dangling and tears have begun to stream down my face. “I don’t know what you want.”

“I think I have made it very clear that I want you. He tilts his head and asks, “Are you thinking of going somewhere, my little pet?”

I frantically shake my head no and I can’t help but be impressed that he is holding me up mid-air, my legs dangling as if I’m weightless.

“Do you like what you see?” he growls. A monster, do you like knowing the man who holds you in his power is a monster?”

My hand trembles as I touch his face and whisper, “My beautiful monster.”

“I don’t like you taking anything from another man.”

“Selena gave it to me.”

I jump as his voice turns to ice and he jerks me closer, “Who the fuck do you think bought it for her? Maybe you want to sleep in the basement tonight?”

“No! Anything I’ll do anything!”

His hooded eyes take on a look of amusement. “Anything?”

“Yes, for you…anything.”

He walks into the bedroom, still carrying me, and tosses me onto the bed. He grabs a set of handcuffs and the clink I hear as he squeezes them on makes my abdomen clench, partly due to fear and partly due to excitement.

He reaches into his boot and pulls out a very large knife with a long ivory handle.

“Please don’t hurt me. Please, Trent.”

“You may call me Executioner.”

His eyes hold a faraway look as the knife slices through my gold glittered dress like butter. He holds the knife in his teeth as he splits the dress open and eyes my now naked chest. I couldn’t wear a bra tonight due to the cut of the dress and, judging by the rapt expression on his face, my Executioner couldn’t be more pleased.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply as he takes in my scent. “Mmm, Clive Christian No 1. Only the best for the woman I own. Do I own you, my love?” He places the knife at my throat and eyes me.”

“I grit my teeth and though he scares the shit out of me, I meet him head on. “Yes, and you don’t need to hold a knife to my throat to have my allegiance.”

“But it’s so much fun and I want to play. You did say anything…”

He positions himself between my legs and runs his tongue over my slit as he slips the knife handle into my pussy. I jump out of fear.

“I wouldn’t do that. Bend your knees, Vixen, I’m hungry and I want to eat. Oh, that sweet pussy of yours,” he moans between licks and begins to step up the pace of sliding the knife in and out.

The mixture of fear and pleasure send me into a tsunami of bliss as my body gives way to a man who is one step away from being over the fucking edge crazy.

He rips out of his clothes, wasting no time in his quest to get naked. I marvel at his body that looks more like a gladiator than an ordinary man.

“Whose fucking property are you?” he hisses in my face as he fists two handfuls of hair on each side of my head, forcing me to look at him.

“Yours, ah fuck, yours,” It’s all I can do to get the words out because he feels so good stretching my opening beyond its limits and forcing me to take all he has to give.

“Every fiber of your being is mine. If anybody is going to take care of you, it’s me, Vixen. All those clothes in there, I bought them before you were even here. The beauty products, the shoes, the lingerie, and, most certainly, the scents you wear. I don’t need another man to take care of what belongs to me.”

He slams his cock deeper into me to make his point.

“I get it, I get it, don’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I’m going to hurt you. That’s inevitable but I will never, ever harm you…”

Dr. Winslow

I make my way to the basement and watch her sleep again. It hasn’t even been a week yet and she is already showing signs of Stockholm Syndrome. It is closing in around her and taking over her very soul.

I unlock the cage and viciously pull her out by her hair. I’m purposely treating her cruelly and not having sex with her. My reasons for doing this are twofold. One, I want to prove that a person will bond with someone no matter how cruel they are under the right circumstances and two, I don’t have sex with her because it makes it harder to bond and proves point number one. She is bonding with a cruel monster who gives her nothing but what I see fit to give her.

I viciously yank her out of the cage, half dragging her, and pull her over to a small window.

I string her up on a hook which I have securely screwed into a rafter type board in the ceiling.

She can see people’s feet, ankles, and calves as they walk past, completely unaware of her plight.

I cock my brow and turn my head slightly as I knowingly eye her.

“Go ahead and scream. That glass is so thick that they will never hear you. Even if someone did hear you, who is going to help a whore like you? You know, I don’t know about you, but I am famished! I’m going to get something to eat,” I state as I walk away and leave her hanging.

I’m certain she can hear my hear my sadistic laughter and, once again, the sound of my hard soled shoes echoes in her ears as my steps fade away with my exit.

I’m a psychiatrist and I know the thoughts going through her head. I’m sure they’re thoughts like
I hate him! Why does he torment me so? Have I done something wrong? I’m hungry too.
She’ll stand there and sulk as tears stream down her face.

It gives me a sense of power knowing that I am the one who is being a cruel asshole and yet she questions herself as if she has done something wrong. I know these things because I have spent my life studying the human psyche.

An hour or two later, I return and I am intrigued with the fact that she looks at the clock to see what time it is. She will never know because one of my mind fuck tactics was to take away her sense of time.
I made sure of that the day I removed the hands from that clock that she hates. Imagine being subjected to a loudly ticking clock that gives no evidence of time—quite the paradox…

I look at her blankly so as not to give her ammunition.

Her stomach growls loudly. Once again, her body has betrayed her.

“I thought dinner would be nice.” I facetiously bat my eyes. “Are you hungry?” Of course I heard her stomach growl, it’s just another mind fuck. I’m having much more fun than I ever believed I would. Perhaps there is a part of me that is deranged. I’m finding out new things about myself in the midst of my research. I’m much crueler than I realized.

I can tell she’s hungry, she’s pissed, and she’s tired of hanging on that hook.

I wave the bag under her nose. “Umm,” I taunt. I unhook her and state, “Yummy grease, salt, fries, meat, and all you have to do is crawl over to me on all fours to get it.”

I don’t respond to tears, anger, fits, or even reasoning,
I think to myself.
The only thing I will respond to is her obedience and her submission, so make it good, girl; make it good.

She seductively sways over to me and purposely casts her eyes downward. She is trying to use the lure of her sexual wiles on me. I’m certain she is wondering why I haven’t raped her yet. She has every intention of making me believe her—making me believe that she is going to be obedient to my every whim. Her compliance isn’t heartfelt, not yet at least.

She tops the whole charade off with a kiss on top of my Italian leather shoe. Oh, she is good. I’ll give her that but does she honestly think that I’m buying this award winning act of compliance?

I laugh to myself. I’ve seen this sudden spontaneous obedience and acceptance in my research before. Patients who are married to an abusive husband begin to comply to avoid the beatings. Even though it isn’t heartfelt in the beginning, it becomes such a habit for mere survival’s sake that soon it is ingrained in their personality and becomes true submission. The mind will do wondrous things to protect itself from insanity. Very cunning, very cunning she is. Oh, she has learned a lot from the hand that life has dealt her. The foster care, the group homes, and the abandonment have all played integral parts in shaping the personality of a woman who is only able to bond in adverse situations.

“Very good,” I smirk as I hold out a french fry. “You have earned this but if you want the whole meal, then you have to eat it off the floor!”

I dump the bag out and fries go everywhere. I then unwrap the hamburger and open it, dumping it on the floor. As she crawls over to eat, I step on it, smashing it into the concrete. I peer down at her, looking over my glasses and spit out my words with contempt, “You ungrateful bitch, no thank you?”

She leans in kissing the top of my shoe once again and mutters, “Thank you.”

I smash it again, twisting with my foot for good measure. “Now lick it up and you better not use your hands.”

I stand over her, watching her feed like a trapped animal. Yes, she is bonding with a cruel bastard and I’m enjoying every moment of it. I let her finish eating and then make her crawl to the toilet in the corner of the basement. I turn around, giving her privacy as she lifts her dress. It’s all part of the mind fuck. She will begin to wonder why I don’t want her sexually and it will feed her insecurities. Soon, she will begin to do anything to please me—anything to make me want her.

I let her finish, make my way over to the cage, and hold the door open. She crawls in without me even telling her to. Every day she becomes more and more bonded to a man who treats worse than most people treat their dogs.

I make my way up the steps and into my office. I find myself wondering for the first time if I should keep her instead of kill her. I won’t worry about it now. I have an event to go to tonight and I need to get some work done before I go.

My fingers begin to fluently type as I write the book that will make me famous and ensure that I go down in history the way I deserve. People will finally see me for the genius I am and give me the respect that should go with my profession…

Executioner

Following the quack doctor has paid off and Kansas and I have been able to discover that he has a shitty house in the run down part of town. Having access to his office has also proved fruitful because it keeps me up to date on his appointments.

I eye Kansas and begin speaking.

“Kansas, I don’t know if you realize how deep into things you are with me. Once you met my blood brotherhood, it took things to a whole ‘nother level. Miller is a hit man and his woman is too; they’re hired killers. Diego is a top drug lord, and me… well, I’m just a crazy mother fucker who will never let you go. We are hitting the guy tonight and I have to know you’re okay with that. Do you want to go or stay behind while we take care of business?”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“I’m not, but… I don’t know what kind of crazy shit will go down tonight. All I do know is that I can’t have that woman’s blood on my hands and I need that mother fucker to sign off on my physical.” I shake my head, muttering.

“From what I can tell, you guys may be killers but it isn’t like you randomly go around killing people. The people you guys do kill deserve it. I’m in.”

“Good girl.” I grab her by the back of her neck and pull her in, kissing her deeply. She is the one good thing that has come out of all this mess. Hell, she is the one good thing that has ever come out of anything as far as I am concerned.

We’ll make our way home and grab something to eat and take a nap before we hit the house tonight and get this woman back home.

It gives me time to call the boys and solidify that tonight is the night. I push away the panic that tries to rise up in me as I think about the possibility that she might be dead already. I know she isn’t though because the doctor wouldn’t be spending so much time at this dilapidated dump if she was. He is too accustomed to the finer things in life. I start the car and put it in gear to go and get ready to pull this job off. I will feel a hell of a lot better when I know this woman is safe… and when my fucking papers are signed off on.