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They’d fed me and let me shower under guard, given me pants and a shirt. I stood there, still dog-tired from the combo of beatings and drugs, but also furious and blind. The sack idea was a sound one. Unless you were some superhero who could sense the drop of a hair from ten yards away with your eyes closed, being blind made the strongest man into a victim.
Now, they were setting me free for the worst of reasons. The fuckers. I flexed my muscles covertly, clenched and unclenched my fists, getting ready for when the last restraint fell away. Kicking somebody’s head in was always on the menu, if they gave me an opening. If they made a mistake. If you waited long enough, everyone made mistakes.
I couldn’t see the room with the canvas sack on my head but I could smell it. Beneath the scent of cleaning fluids was a thick aroma of sex, blood, sweat and, yes, fear. Whatever had been done in here, the consequences had leached into the walls.
You could smell fear. In my days in South Africa, I’d had my fill of being scared shitless while enforcing the law, while shooting soldiers in the bush when I could barely see a few yards ahead of me and they were shooting back. I’d smelled the stench of fear and adrenalin from a crowd as they hacked to death a man in front of me. Fear and me were drinking buddies from way back.
As they unstrapped and uncuffed my arms, leaving only the chain-linked manacles on my ankles, I ran through what Gregor, the manager of this house had said.
“Remember. Your job is to make love. To make her suffer, a little. If she makes no interesting noises, hmm, we will take you off the job. For her sake, do it right.”
Damn, that creep deserved to die. For calling it love, for starters. What they wanted from me made me want to vomit.
The strap around my neck was unbuckled and the sack removed. I squinted, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights ten feet above.
“I am watching you from behind bulletproof glass. Do not make us shoot you, Pieter. Do not harm the young man who has freed you.”
I did a circle on the spot and I watched the man back away toward the door then lean against it. He wasn’t armed and he was the only person in here – apart from me and the woman kneeling, facedown, in the middle of the room. If I attacked him, I was certain I wouldn’t get out of this room alive. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to give me someone they weren’t willing to sacrifice. Poor bastard.
I grinned at him wickedly, to let him know that on a bad day, I might use him to decorate the walls with red.
The woman.
I inhaled, let it out. Kak. They hadn’t said her name, at least, I didn’t think they had...but I knew who this was, even with her head covered – Jazmine. The waves of ebony hair cascading over her shoulders were unmistakable. She was unmistakable.
The blatant display of her cunt shocked me. I should have expected such things, here. To my dismay, my cock stirred though I knew it was pure physical reaction. It didn’t make me a bad man, just human.
In Australia, I’d helped her escape because she’d impressed me in many small ways – her courage, her selflessness toward the other women. She’d said she had a baby waiting for her and that had tugged at my better self too. But I couldn’t hide from myself that her looks had influenced me also. If she’d been on a beach, or asleep in my bed, I’d have happily watched her for hours.
I hesitated.
“Go to her. Do your job.” The chuckle that followed came through clearly on the speaker.
I took that first step to her. What the hell was I going to do?
I’d done so many horrific things in my life that the Devil would have a hard time listing them all. But this act was on a whole new sordid scale of its own.
The manacles clinked as I walked. I could hear my breathing then hers and a faint tapping that I belatedly recognized as I stood over her. Her teeth were chattering.
Maybe all those men I’d seen die, who knew it was coming, had also had chattering teeth. Maybe the one with the burning tire around his neck and with the mob using their machetes and bricks on his body had shaken this much? Even if I’d been close enough, I’d never have heard him over the screaming.
I looked down at her.
The men I’d killed close-up were the worst. I couldn’t forget them...their faces exploding, the teeth, blood, and bits of bone flying.
At least a man could fight back.
How could a man do this to a woman?
“Pieter! You’re boring us. Fail and I have five men who will be happy to play with her.”
“Jou fokken holnaaier poes,” I cursed Gregor in Afrikaans, under my breath. The man gave swear words a bad name.
She was terrified.
Why had they chosen me? I’d been going to be killed but tortured first. Someone had arrived and chosen me to do this for some reason I couldn’t recall, though I think I’d heard them explain. It would be worse for her if I said no. They’d kill me outright. I’d go to my death with a clear conscience with respect to this at least. Even if I couldn’t wash away the rest of my dirty past.
That was my easy path, the cowardly one.
