Desmoterion, page 6
“You’re probably better off here than back at the party. That asshole Petrov would force you into sex after too long. He does it with all of those who work for him.”
“Even you?” Colin pressed against the bars to get a good look at the man, shrouded in darkness in the corner of his cell. When no answer came, Colin asked, “What’s your name?”
“Henny.”
“As in Henshall Strong?”
Henny moved out of the shadows, his long red hair matted and unkempt while dressed in what appeared to be filthy rags. “What the hell is it to you?”
Colin bit his lip. “Let’s just say I’ve heard of him and leave it at that.”
“They’re at it again?” Henny groaned, shaking his head. “Fucking fools, all of them. Especially Dupont.”
“Probably.” But Girish was still in action and Colin wondered how the hothead didn’t crack sooner.
Henny sat down by the metal bars. “Is Dupont still there?”
Colin frowned at the look of sadness in Henny’s eyes. “Yeah, he’s a supervisor.”
“It was, but I was hoping he’d have been killed by now. He left me to rot. He could have intercepted but didn’t.”
* * *
Kipper’s jaw clenched as he eavesdropped on the hushed exchange between Colin and Henny. He knew nothing could be done to save Henny from his grim fate. Trent had exhausted every possible avenue, but the final authority to act rested with their leader.
“Failure is a crucial part of the learning process,” the leader had droned as if the sound of Henny’s rape and torture over the loud speakers was mere background music. Kipper harbored a lasting grudge against their leader for his indifference to anyone. He’d have taken action against him if not for the realization that it would be nothing short of suicidal.
Plenty had met their demise over the years Kipper had been imprisoned inside the organization. Yet, this was a unique anguish; Henny had been his childhood friend, growing up next door to each other and the best of friends since day one.
Neither of them would have found themselves ensnared in this nightmarish ordeal if it weren’t for Kipper’s ill-conceived attempt to hack into a government database, altering their conscription statuses to ‘completed’ in a desperate effort to aid his friend. The gravity of the potential repercussions hadn’t occurred to him.
Ironically, it was not Henny’s record that aroused suspicion and led to his capture; it had already been altered ten minutes prior. Instead, it was Kipper’s own record that was detected and traced back to the hacking attempt.
Kipper was apprehended and charged while Henny made a daring escape. The subsequent murder charge against Henny had stemmed from an accident while evading a military pursuer — an act of self-defense and far out of character.
By a stroke of luck—or perhaps fate—both had ended up in the same prison. In an ironic twist, their shared incarceration offered a glimmer of positivity. Little did they know what unforeseen events awaited them; life rarely unfolded as planned.
Kipper’s gaze drifted from the painful past as the leader inquired, “Anything new on Colin’s feed?”
Taking a deep breath and setting aside the haunting memories of Henny for the moment, Kipper replied, “Not yet.”
Delgado’s eyes widened at their ongoing conversation. “Sir, are you following this?”
Kipper refocused his attention on the discussion at hand. “Did Henny just mention ‘dock six’?”
“Yes, sir,” Delgado confirmed. “Shall I initiate a search? It might be the location for the cargo.”
Kipper turned to their leader, a hint of hope gleaming in his eyes.
“Proceed. Despite Colin’s reckless outburst, he might have unwittingly provided us with the answer.”
* * *
After serving the last of the food, Girish’s fancy clothes were drenched with sweat and smelled of food; he wanted to get out as soon as possible. The other servers stood off to one side of the kitchen and glared at Girish, but he ignored them.
The continued unwanted advances of the man with silver hair troubled him more. How he’d last the rest of the night was unsure.
There wasn’t much left for him to do other than serve after-dinner drinks, so someone should recover him soon. He might have a better chance of escaping this hell if he tried to slip out into the alley. He moved to the doorway that led to the hall, but the older man from before intercepted him. “No leaving! Get back against the wall. It’s almost cleanup time.”
Girish returned to stand against the wall again, doubt eating inside him.
* * *
Trent strained his ears, eavesdropping on the hushed conversations resonating through the opulent ballroom, while Girish discreetly glided among the guests, serving decadent desserts and exquisite drinks.
Recording the chatter felt futile now; if the location of dock six was confirmed, Girish had completed his crucial part of the mission, and they could set rescue plans in motion. But if their hopes were dashed, if it wasn’t, then Girish would have to endure whatever might come next. If Petrov took Girish away, his feed might be lost. If Petrov took Girish captive, his live feed might be severed. Strangely, only the ballroom and dining room were visible on the camera. At least this played to their advantage.
The mere thought of Girish being manhandled chilled Trent to the bone, a tormenting notion that had haunted him from the beginning. It was bad enough the first time he’d heard it inflicted on Henny. Such were the burdens of a team leader, hearing and processing things he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy.
* * *
As the last crumbs of dessert disappeared and they consumed the final drops of liquid courage, Girish observed the guests’ gradual departures with cautious relief. Grateful that their previous audacious comments hadn’t materialized into anything worse, he yearned for this trial to end.
He watched and waited, eyes flitting between the ostentatious patrons, hoping for any word from Trent or a signal for his escape. The lecherous man’s eyes had been glued to Girish’s every move all night, frequently indulging in unwelcome advances, his touch like a poisonous serpent, but fortunately, the man disappeared, along with the other guests.
But instead of seizing Girish, the man returned to the ballroom, addressing the remaining servers with an unsettling grin. “I’ve enjoyed every moment with you all tonight. While I’d love to stay, and I value the time I spend with each of you. I’ve decided to grace our newest member with my presence. Fear not, dear servers; I’ll pay you a visit later.”
Girish winced, fearing the implications of the man’s words. His fellow servers grumbled about being overlooked and quickly dispersed, leaving Girish alone with the silver-haired predator.
Drawing closer, the man’s broad smile revealed gleaming teeth. “Tonight, you belong to me.”
Girish stifled a shudder as the man’s hand slithered across his cheek.
The man chuckled darkly, gripping Girish’s hand. “Shall we?”
Desperate for a lifeline in this perilous situation, Girish sent a silent plea to Trent. Desmoterion surely wouldn’t allow him to come to harm, or would it?
* * *
The man led Girish into a spacious bedroom in the upper levels of what appeared to be a fancy house. Having only seen the downstairs and kitchen, he didn’t realize there would be anyone living above it.
“It looks like I need to break you in. I hadn’t realized how inexperienced you are with all of this.” The man smiled at Girish, reaching out to stroke the side of his face again.
Girish swallowed hard, trying not to flinch when he was touched. He believed Trent would intercede at some point. The party was over, his job done with the end of it.
Why wasn’t Trent intervening?
He wanted to ask Trent, but that would alert this asshole to what they were doing and therefore get Girish killed. Though at this point with the prospect of being coerced into sex, Girish wondered if death would be a better option. At least he wouldn’t have to endure a creepy old man fondling him.
The man undid the bow tie Trent worked so hard to make perfect with a flick of his hand. He tossed it to the side, going for Girish’s white shirt next to pull it open.
Girish turned his head, unable to look at the man when he rubbed his fingers over Girish’s nipples. The less he had to see of this, the better.
Sadly, that didn’t work.
The man yanked on Girish’s long hair, forcing him to turn back. “I didn’t say you could look away. You are mine tonight and no one else’s. You do as I say, or I will end your life in an instant.
“At least I wouldn’t have to put up with being touched by you.”
The man’s face twisted in anger, shoving Girish down to his knees and holding him there. “Looks like I need to teach you some manners. The first lesson is to clean your mouth out.”
Girish wondered just what that meant when the man’s cock shoved into his mouth. He choked on the wide girth, unable to catch his breath with it, forcing in deeper until it was almost down his throat.
Tears sprung from his eyes as he desperately fought for breath.
The man eased out but quickly thrust back in again.“It will stay in there until you show me some respect, even if I have to kill you with it. I doubt a man like yourself would want to be killed choking on a cock.”
Looking up, Girish glared at the man.
He laughed. “I’ve seen that look many times, but I’ve cured all of them.” He grabbed Girish’s long hair and pushed his head face first into his crotch. “Now, I expect you to please me until I say not to. You will learn that you are nothing without me.”
Girish gagged on the cock, praying for Trent to intercede.
CHAPTER FOUR
The horrific noises coming through his earpiece made Trent grimace. He didn’t need to see what was happening to Girish, the sounds painted enough of a picture.
Instead, he turned to Kipper and said, “Any news on Colin’s location? Girish won’t last the night if we don’t narrow it down. Petrov will just as soon rape Girish to death than to ever admit defeat.”
Ward shook his head. “Dock six could be anywhere at this point. They’re jamming our signal, so I’m not able to lock onto Colin.”
Kipper leaned over Ward’s console and tapped a few buttons. “Try searching the town that Girish is in now. It has to be close to that, as Colin’s signal wasn’t dead for long.”
Ward entered a few more things and then got a result. “Okay, so there are four dock sixes in the area. One in the south, one in the north, one in the west, and one in the east.”
“Then scan each one. You should be able to see if there are containers in the locations. Whatever blocks your scans might be the correct one. Then we can send someone down to check it out.”
Trent glanced over at their leader. “Is that the plan? Free the cargo?”
The leader looked up at the digital clock hanging overhead. “We lose this mission at midnight, and there’s only an hour left. If we can narrow it down fast enough, we can tell them which one to go for after it passes.”
Trent pushed a button on the console. “Emyr, can you do a scan of the house? Where is Girish?”
Silence, and then Emyr’s voice popped in, “Reception is garbage at the moment, but I believe he’s upstairs. Not sure which room it doesn’t look like he’s on the main floor any more. Do you want me to send Arden inside to retrieve him?”
“No, just keep tabs on the building for now. We’re working on a lead from someone else.”
* * *
Blinking tears from his eyes, but Girish was determined not to give the sadistic asshole the satisfaction of seeing him break. Sticking to the resolve wasn’t easy when gagging on a cock that thrust so hard it made his mouth sore and breathing difficult.
The earlier slap across his face still stung; it came as a result of Girish’s last protest. “I expect you to suck it like you mean it instead of just slack-mouthed,” the scum has said.
Now, the silver-haired man thrust hard into Girish’s mouth. “Finally, you’re learning. Good boy.” A sound of approval lined his tone. “I want you to worship it as if it was the thing you ever tasted.”
Without looking at the man’s face, Girish imagined a smile accompanying the words and grunts of pleasure. He sighed, wondering how to give the best blow job, get it over, and be done with the thing. He had little in the way of good experience. He’d always liked girls and hadn’t handled any cocks but his own by choice.
Though he tried to contain himself to survive the situation, anger seeped through his veins. He was angry at the asshole who forced him into this, both the silver haired man and fucking Trent, who’d snatched him from one prison to dump him in another. And who’d abandoned him into the hands of a fucking rapist on this mission?
He had to wonder if Trent wasn’t a sadist fuck who enjoyed seeing Girish brutalized at the hands of an asshole. Did it get him off? Make him feel like the superior dick?
Thinking back to the last time he’d seen Trent — the bow tie incident — didn’t help; the softness of Trent’s hands on his neck and chest. Was it all an act to get Girish to do this, using him like a pawn?
Anger raged at the betrayal, and Girish intended to channel it into survival mode because he had unfinished business.
If he ever got out of this, he was going to give Trent a piece of his mind — with his fists.
* * *
Ward took off his headphones and set them on the table.
The leader saw it and said, “No one said to remove those.”
“It’s not my job to hear someone being raped. I’m here to find Colin’s location, nothing more.”
Kipper shoved the headphones on Ward’s head. “Then listen to Colin’s feed instead. Maybe you can hear ambient stuff we haven’t picked up yet.”
Ward grumbled and switched to the second feed. He was about to continue searching when he froze.
Kipper touched the back of his chair. “What is it?”
Ward turned up the volume on the feed. “You hear that? That ringing. What is it?”
Kipper put on his headphones again to listen. “What ringing?”
“In the distance. Crank up the volume to hear it. Sounds like ringing.”
Delgado cranked his feed up and listened. “No, it's a horn. Like from a vehicle or a boat.”
Ward turned to Delgado. “Patch into satellite feeds over the docks. I wonder if we can pinpoint that location by the sound of it.”
Delgado typed into his keyboard, capturing a part of the sound and transmitting it to the search parameters. He figured it would take a while, but instead, it popped up with a picture of a blue boat. “I got a location!”
Kipper leaned over the console. “They’re at the western docks judging by the satellite images, and probably in that enormous building off to the side. It would easily hold what they might have in there.”
Trent turned to their leader. “Orders?”
The leader nodded at Kipper. “Good work; transmit this to our field operatives to check out. Once they report back, we’ll know for sure.”
“And Girish?”
The leader shrugged at Trent. “He’ll have to wait until the confirmation.”
Trent kept listening, wondering if Girish would indeed hold out long enough.
* * *
Girish’s mouth and lips started to feel numb, while his jaw and neck were screaming at him in pain. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.
The smug asshole over him grinned at the fact that he was getting tired.
Girish wanted to smash his face so badly, but he couldn’t do that well in this position. He wondered what he could do to get out of this situation.
He could try spitting it out, but he doubted that would fly with the asshole, who would shove it back in harder.
This called for desperate measures.
Girish bit down hard.
The scream overhead was much higher than Girish expected this sort of man to emit. Either way, it was just enough to empty Girish’s mouth. He toppled the man over and he tried to punch him in the nuts.
This tactic didn’t distract the man enough for him to kick Girish off, landing a hit into Girish’s stomach. The man jumped to his feet, kicking at Girish’s ribs as he lay prone on the ground. “You will respect my authority! If you ever do that again, I will break out every single one of your teeth.”
Girish pushed off the floor, the anger at Trent giving him more confidence, if only to deck Trent when he saw him next. “Just try it, asshole. I’m done playing by your rules.”
“Is that so? You think an uncoordinated loaf like yourself is going to take me down. Think again.”
“We’ll see.” Girish grinned, getting into a martial arts pose.
The man took off his suit coat, tossing it over the bed. He rolled up his shirt cuffs and shook his head at Girish. “I’m sad that I’ll be damaging you. You had so much potential to be one of my favorites, but now you’ve ruined that.”
Girish spat at the man. “By the way, you taste like shit. You might want to wash down there better every once in a while.”
The man’s eyes turned a darker shade as he lunged for Girish.
* * *
The words coming from the radio took a surprising turn. “Well, I didn’t expect that.” Trent shook his head with sorrow, certain that Girish would be smashed to a pulp and killed. “Even I couldn’t take down Misha Petrov.”
Kipper scoffed to the right of Trent. “From what Mike says, Girish is a hothead, and every move he makes is liable to get him killed. It’s a wonder he’s lasted this long.”
Strangely, Trent felt the urge to say something in Girish’s defense, but it made no sense, so he said, “It’s a shame we aren’t getting a video feed for this. Maybe Girish can take him down a peg.”
“Isn’t it? Apparently, our new recruit has acquired newfound confidence, at least until he gets hit enough times to realize a fight with Petrov equals a painful defeat; I admire him for trying.”
