23- My 2nd Punishment

Isabella

Ugh! I mentally groan, feeling myself stir as my senses slowly return to me. A fucking migraine now pounding within my head making me want to curl up and hide. Attempting to move my hand, I find myself suddenly unable to, the movement cut short.

Attempting to move the rest of my limbs, I slowly begin to realize that I can’t. My body sore as my chin rests softly against my chest. A ringing in my ears as a high pitched tune pierces the depths of my soul. Making me queasy. A few minutes later I slowly feel my senses returning and the events leading up to this now flood my brain.

Without opening my eyes, another high pitch scream reaches my ears as well as high end curses as I now realize it’s not a tune, but someone screaming and cursing.

“STOP! PLEASE! NO MORE!” comes a female voice; their voice shaking. The sound of tears within their voice as she pleads for mercy.

Wait! That’s not just some girl. That’s Angel!

Snapping my eyes open, I move to adjust them quickly, taking in the scene before me. For there in front of me was Angel and Caleb. Gasping, tears begin to rise before I’m even aware of my own surroundings.

Taking in the scene before me, I realize I’m in a cold, damp cement room. No windows, no doors, no exits. Only a single light that managed to hover just above the room, reflecting downwards. A small metal grate in the floor, a drain. Looking further, my eyes move to the middle of the room. Caleb and Angel both hanging high. Their feet fully off the ground, their hands high above their heads, secured by a thick rope and metal hook. Their clothes tattered and torn while covered in blood. Each of their faces swollen and bruised. Their noses black and blue with dry blood running down each of their faces. Both struggling with their restraints as a lone figure stood in the shadows, his back to me.

Taking a second to access my surroundings, I slowly realize I’m off to the side, sitting on a hard wooden chair. My arms, legs, and torso all strapped down by thick leather straps which also seem to be extremely tight. My hands now purple from the lack of circulation. Trying my mouth, I suddenly realize I have a ball gag within my mouth, muting my screams as I attempt to speak.

Thrashing against my restraints, my chair begins to move, scraping against the cement flooring as I gain the attention of the man in the shadows.

Turning around, he slowly notices me. “Ah, Good, you're awake! I shall let the Bosses know,” slowly he moves to pick up his phone, remaining in the shadows as he lifts his phone to his ear. Speaking a language that sounded almost ancient.

Refusing to move, he moves to watch as Caleb, Angel and I all struggle within our restraints. Angel barely conscious and Caleb close to it. The need to hold them and tell them everything would be okay, greater.

After a few seconds, the sound of a metal door opens. The sound of footsteps could be heard harshly as they make their way down in what I can only assume to be stairs. Then, more lights suddenly turn on and the room is fully illuminated. The once single light becomes many. The cement box now coated in rusty large patches of red, including the walls and floor. The man now someone I remember from breakfast, now standing by a large metal table that had many tools laid out. His sleeves rolled up as his tattooed arms peeked out from his navy blue shirt. Blood covering each arm. Next to him, I see Lucus, Alex, Grant and Tony.

“Thank you Victor. We'll take it from here” remarks Grant nicely, nodding to the man I now knew as Victor. Nodding, Victor moves to leave, heading up a large flight of metal stairs behind him before moving to exit through the door at the top right corner of the platform.

Cautiously, I move to turn my eyes back to my fiance’s. Each of them smirking, their faces looking like a pack of hungry wolves at dinner time.

Shuddering, I move to see each of them unbutton their dress shirt sleeve before rolling them up to their elbows. Alex making his way over to me slowly, his dominating aura coming off him in waves. Almost like he’s getting a new toy suddenly as he moves to stand behind me. My breath quickening as he moves to lay his large hands on top of my shoulders, closing my eyes in fear as he did.

Feeling the hotness of his breath near my ear, his hands move to squeeze my shoulders painfully. “OPEN! Open those eyes Piccolo (Little One)” knowing that was an order and not a suggestion I do. Knowing that if I didn’t I’d be in even more trouble than I already was in now.

Once open, I turn to see Grant holding a large wooden bat within his hand. His large body standing between Angel and Caleb.

Lucus bringing a chair over to sit next to me. His large frame straddling the chair while resting his front against the back of the chair, arms folded gently along the top of it. An unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth.

Tony leaning against the wall closest to the stairs, his eyes watching.

Grabbing a lighter from his pocket, Lucus moves to light the cigarette. A rush of that awful smell filling my senses as he did, making me nauseous. “Isabella,” he says, inhaling another puff. “I have to admit that I’m impressed with you. Furious, but impressed”. Glancing towards me, he looks to Alex and I, Alex squeezing my shoulders once more.

“You're the first person to actually escape from us. Which isn’t easy to do”. Another nauseating puff gets released. “Did you really think that we wouldn’t find you?” he asks tauntingly, as I had a gag in my mouth and couldn’t answer him directly.

“I must admit, that little car stunt of yours as well as your little game with the exits were brilliant. You almost had Tony running for his money” his voice now filled with Venom. “Almost”.

At the tone of his voice, the guys chuckle. My eyes still focused on Grant as he circles my friends, the wooden bat still held tightly within his grasp.

Shifting my focus to Lucus, I hear him exhale loudly. “Now then… My sweet Neonata (Baby Girl), How should we punish you” he says, almost casually before nodding over to Grant.

Looking at Grant, I see him lift up the bat before swinging it. Landing blow after blow into Caleb and Angel, alternating bodies as they scream. Their screams blood curdling, as my screams become muffled by the gag in my mouth.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Grant hitting Angel and Caleb over and over again. Hitting their torso, knees, back. By the tenth strike, Angel had managed to pass out while Caleb was struggling to hold on.

My vision blurring from all the tears I were shedding, my wrists beginning to bleed from all my pulling. Crying, my muffle pleas fall on deaf ears. Realizing I’m truly helpless as I watch my friends get beaten right in front of me. Over and Over.

When both become unconscious, Grant moves to stop, putting his bloody bat back on the table behind him. Once done, does he move to switch places with Alex. Both kissing my head as they did. Yuck, disgusting. Grant now placing his hands where Alex once had his, as Alex moves over to Caleb and Angel. Revealing a small silver knife from his pocket as he moves to the opposite side of the wall.

Returning, he moves to bring two buckets of water before proceeding to throw water at each of them. Each instantly gasping for air. Water now dripping from their bodies as the color red dripped off them and into the drain below.

Placing the buckets back down, does Alex make his way over to them. His eyes level with each of them as he whispers to them, causing their eyes to widen in fear before they struggle.

Taking his knife, Alex firmly pressed it to Angel first. The tip of the knife slowly tracing along her skin. A light trail of blood rises as he makes his way down her cheek, followed by her neck, then breast until slowly he approaches her torso and belly button.

Smirking, he moves to stand directly in front of her. Bending down he moves to use his knife on her. Her cries ignored by all.

Pulling away, Alex moves to reveal large bloody letters along her midsection. The words; “SLUT” appear as I begin to thrash, trying to plead for mercy through my gag as Alex moves to Caleb next. Repeating the action. Trailing the knife down from his cheek, to his neck to his chest until he eventually rested on his torso. The tip of his blade digging in as he wrote the words; “CUNT.”