Byron rubs his hands together. “Excellent. And I promise, she’s much better behaved than Quinn.”
“Hey,” I shout. “Don’t be a pussy, Mr. R. Didn’t you want a girl who-”
I don’t get to finish my taunt. Byron steps in and slaps me, going after the same spot as Jacqueline. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. I’ve got business with our guest, but you and I are not done. Don’t you think for a second that liking pain means I can’t find a way to make you suffer.” He turns to Jefferson. “Jonah, she’s all yours. Edwin, Corbin and Hunter, get the other residents back to work.”
Reed grabs my arm. “I’ll see to Quinn.”
“No,” says Byron. “You’re with us. Get Hayden ready.”
Reed sneers, but then complies, giving me a glance before following Byron.
Jefferson waits until everyone leaves, and we’re alone. Then he starts unchaining me from the ceiling, careful not to let my hands go free for an instant.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” I mutter, trying to wrench my wrist free of his grip, but he’s surprisingly strong for an old man.
“Save it, Quinn. You really think I give a shit what you think?”
He cuffs my wrists, as expected, but also applies a second pair to my upper arms, making certain I can’t take a swing at him. With my ankles still bound from before, I’m pretty helpless.
“Walk,” Jefferson commands.
“Fuck you.”
He sighs, then twists my elbow so hard I shriek, worried it’ll break.
“Quinn, I have wanted a piece of you since the second I first saw you, and I’m mad that it’s taken me this long to pay you a visit.” He yanks my arm, and all I can do is move in the direction he’s going. “I’m also less than thrilled that you’ve got a thing for pain — it kinda takes the fun out of it for me. But Byron’s got the right idea — I’m sure there’s plenty we can do that you won’t like one bit.”
Chapter 14
I fight Jefferson over every step, attempting to shake off his grip or stomp on his feet — anything I can imagine to slow us down. None of it works, not that it really makes a difference — even if I did elude his grasp, where would I go? Without any help, escaping from the prison is impossible. A day hasn’t gone by where I haven’t thought about it, but each time my neck itches where Reed injected that implant back when I first arrived.
Still, I’m not going to walk calmly toward whatever hell he has planned for me. My heart wants to pound away, blasting my system with adrenaline, but I force myself to take deep breaths and stay calm. I can’t count on Reed to bust in and stop this man from doing as he pleases. In fact, I almost don’t want him to. I’m going to take Judge Jefferson down a peg, somehow. I need to be ready, and willing, to take my shot.
The only problem is, will I get one? And what am I willing to do for one? I can’t help thinking of Jacqueline and Corbin, and what she did, but the idea repulses me.
Maybe if it was Reed… but Jefferson? No. Absolutely not.
Knowing I have to act fast, I start to panic as we reach the entrance to the dungeon. However, instead of trying to take me inside, Jefferson pushes me past the open door.
What?
I’m not sure why, but he has another destination in mind, which actually scares me more — at least in the dungeon, I knew what to expect.
He leads me on, eventually taking me to what looks a lot like a motel room: cheaply carpeted, most of its space is occupied by a queen-size bed, wooden dressers and a boxy television.
“What the fuck is this?”
Jefferson chuckles. “Membership has its benefits. A private room, for instance, so I can take my time and not worry about where I’ll spend the night. I don’t bring girls here, usually, but I’m improvising.”
That makes two of us.
Jefferson throws me down onto the bed, eliciting fresh aches from my still sore ass. Shaking his head, he says, “Normally I’d start by strapping you down to a table and tanning your ass with a belt, but you’d probably enjoy it. So on our way here, I asked myself, ‘What could I possibly do that she will really hate?’ I’ve had a few ideas, and we’re going to get to all of them.”
As I watch, the judge opens a cabinet drawer and starts unloading its contents, starting with several dildos and plugs, handcuffs, rope and a ball gag. He makes a show of positioning each one for me to see, but none of it scares me until he starts taking out a series of glass bottles. Coming in a variety of shapes and sizes, they hold liquids of different colors and transparency — none of them are labeled.
“Wondering what these are?” he asks, grinning to himself. “This one is just oil, which I’m going to need, don’t you think? This one here is a root extract — a little of this poured into your anus will burn for hours. The only question is whether I use it first, or last. Then there’s my favorite here: a fast-acting paralytic agent, it’ll render you incapable of moving for several minutes at a time, though you’ll be fully conscious. I like it because I can’t stand all these cuffs and ropes. They tend to get in the way, you know? As for the rest? Don’t worry, you’ll see.”
When he finishes, his hand wavers over the bottles. Should I rush him now, while he’s partially distracted? If I make a mistake, I won’t get another chance. I need him to let his guard down fully — make him think he has me under control.