7
LEE
The last four days of my life have been utter hell. I was once trapped in a building during a gunfight for five days, with only two MREs and one canteen of water, and that was a fucking picnic compared to the last few days with Ms. Epiphany Krushner.
I could kill Porter for admitting our sexual preferences and lifestyle choices because I think that knowledge fuels the fire in her attempt to break us.
It’s not supposed to be this way.
The brat does not break the Doms.
We tame the brat.
While she’d gently needled us from the moment we met, the true torture didn’t start until after Reese and his team secured Leti and we allowed the two of them to talk on the phone. Since then, she’s been relentless. Whining, then teasing, then complaining, then teasing, then arguing, and then teasing. How does a woman tease three men at the same time, you may ask? Well, she’s special because she not only gives us attention as a group, but she torments us each individually, too.
First, if any of us is standing, she brushes up against us, or drops something and then bends over to pick it up.
And her mouth! My God, the shit that comes out of her mouth. She turns everything we say into a sexual innuendo.
It’s a curse and a talent.
For example, the morning after we got settled, Case took her outside to teach her how to shoot one of our guns. I have no intentions of her ever putting her hands on one, but I relented once he gave me a good argument. Standing in a clearing facing the woods, Case stood behind her, instructing her on how to stand. He reached around to fix her grip, and she used that opportunity to arch her back and grind her ass against him.
That sent Case on an hour-long hike.
In the middle of that night, we awoke to shouts from the downstairs bedroom where Porter was sleeping. It appears our little brat took it upon herself to crawl into his bed while he was asleep in nothing more than a tank top and a pair of boy shorts. When I asked her what the fuck she was thinking, her response was, “I felt like it.”
That’s when Porter left to take a cold shower.
This morning, she started the day by doing yoga in the living room where I was sleeping on the couch. I woke up to a downward facing dog inches from my nose, and although she has clothes with her; I swear she only wears the shortest of shorts and sports bras in our presence. Nothing about her online persona, except when she’s modeling her athletic wear, prepared me for her constant state of undress—which tells me she’s doing it on purpose.
I’m now on my own hike, checking the cameras stationed along the perimeter of the property and sneaking up on the truck to see if someone has tampered with it. Being cooped up with three other people twenty-four seven would grate on most people, but I usually have no problem. Of course, I’ve never had somebody test my control nonstop either.
I swear, Case, Porter and I have taken so many fucking cold showers in the last four days, my cock is raw from jerking off.
You think she’d be absolutely horrified and in a perpetual state of heightened awareness knowing that although her sister is safe, her would-be kidnappers are still at large. But she seems to be completely immune. Or at least, that’s what she wants us to believe. Porter mentioned watching her mask slip into place multiple times on the drive up, and I’ve witnessed it a couple of times myself. She’s been burying her feelings for so long—and I know she’s mortified about crying in front of us the other night.
Unfortunately, when Reese and the team extricated Leti, there was only one person at the house to take into custody. He’s some random burnout who did not know why he was there. All he knew was he got paid one thousand dollars to sit on his ass and watch TV for twenty-four hours. He knew there was somebody in the back bedroom, but he had no idea who they were, or why they were there, and his only job was to call a phone number should someone come back.
Reese called that number and the same masked voice we caught on tape at the house answered it. It was at that moment I regretted not going after the tan van.
I walk through the front door at the same time Porter comes out of the downstairs bathroom shirtless, with a towel around his neck. Thirty seconds later, Case walks in behind me from God knows where. I glance around the room and then take a couple of steps to the left to look up the stairs where the master bedroom door is wide open.
Listening for movement from above, I hear nothing. “Where is she?”
“I think she’s upstairs.” Case says at the same time that Porter says, “I thought she was with you.”
“Epi?” I called up the stairs. When I get no response, I glance at the monitors, but Porter’s already checking the cameras.
He hisses. “Son of a bitch. She’s at the truck parked on the road.”
I pat my pockets, looking for the keys, and realize they’re empty. “I’m gonna string her up and beat her ass until it’s purple!”
Case is already running to his truck, his keys in his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
We jump in the truck and tear ass down the road. I clench my fists on my thigh and imagine the worst punishments possible for her. She thinks going a few days without Internet access is torture? She doesn’t know the meaning of hell, but she’s about to learn today.
Case pulls his truck in front of mine before she even has the driver’s door closed. I’m out of the passenger seat and ripping her door open before she can lock it.