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Bong. “Dahlia, I present you, again, with Branson Lander. On the table you will find a length of rope. I want him choked until he passes out. You will then wake him in whatever painful way you can imagine, and repeat. Make him beg for death, but don’t kill him. There are further plans for him. Please proceed.”
With numb fingers, I scooped the rope off the table. The hemp fibers were rough on the palms of my hands. It was a quarter inch thick, and roughly four feet long. On one end, a loop had been tied. This was the simplest of tools I’d been given yet. Easy to understand and easy to use. I clenched my hand around it and looked over my shoulder at Branson again. My mental state was fragile, I could sense it. If I wanted to keep myself from tipping fully over the edge, I needed something to focus on. Something to enjoy.
Branson shook his head and cried as I walked over to him. I wrapped the rope around his neck, slid the free end through the loop and pulled it tight. Bringing the free end to the back of his neck I pulled down hard. A gagging rasp burst from his mouth as I put my weight against his neck, cutting off the blood supply.
His head tipped back, and even in his weakened state his hands and legs still jerked and pulled at the ties. I pulled harder, and the last wispy sounds of breath finally cut off. He was suffocating. A warm pleasant sensation pulsed between my legs as I did it. The rope trembled as he struggled and fought, the same way I’d fought all those times as a child. Gritting my teeth, I pulled even harder, putting almost my full body weight on the rope.
Branson had stopped squirming and fighting. He was unconscious, judging by the tension of the rope. Still, I couldn’t stop. Sam had told me not to go further than choking him unconscious, but I was too far gone. Rubbing my thighs together as I pulled the rope sent aching waves of pleasure through my body. My worries vanished. Nothing existed but me, the rope, and Branson. Any punishments that might come were far to the back of my mind, all I could think of was finishing this. Once and for all.
A haze of spontaneous rage filled me, and I jerked on the rope, hard, lifting my feet off the ground and jumping, landing with my full weight on the hemp cord. A muffled crackling sound erupted from Branson’s throat, and his head tipped back even further. I stared into his lifeless eyes and nearly came. The pleasure welled up deep inside me and was ready to cascade over the edge. All that stopped me was the sudden understanding and clarity that I’d disobeyed. I’d killed him when I’d been told not to. It was the biggest rule I’d broken while here.
Collapsing to the ground, I sat, wincing, waiting, preparing, for what came next, all while staring into the dead eyes of my rapist. Several moments later, to my surprise, the door of the playroom clicked open. Swiveling my head toward it, I stared at the sliver of open freedom. Before I could overthink it, I leaped to my feet and ran. My feet skidded on the floor as I rounded the corner out of the playroom.
Why hadn’t I been punished? Why? The thought rattled away inside my mind as I ran. I nearly shrieked when my cuff buzzed. Jerking to a halt, I hissed and pulled my wrist to my chest, but it wasn’t a shock. It was only a notifying vibration. A message displayed, short and concise: Go to dinner.
What? Confusion roared in my mind. Some kind of retribution was coming. It had to be. Sam never allowed anyone to go against his orders unpunished. Though, if he hadn’t yet, maybe I’d be safe. Could that have been a test? He’d wanted to see if I could push past my limits and do what needed to be done even in the face of discipline? Taking a deep steadying breath, I forced myself to walk.
After a corner, I was brought up short when Drake walked out of the Music Room. He glanced over and saw me, his eyes widening in shock. I must have looked crazed after all that had happened.
“Dahlia? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice was low and dripping with worry and concern.
Care, protection, comfort. All the things I’d desired my entire life were in those questions. The only person who’d given me all those things, and he was right here. Close enough to touch. Sexual need flooded within me. I remembered the pleasure I’d had killing Branson. How close I’d been to coming. I took three quick steps toward him and pressed him against the wall.
“What the hell—”
I cut his words off with a kiss. Shoving my tongue into his mouth, I ran my hand down until I cupped his crotch. His dick was hardening already, and I stroked it to get it harder.
Drake pushed me away and held my arms, trying to look into my eyes. “What happened? Are you okay? Your hands are red. Did you get hurt?”
The rope had burned my palms, but the pain was minimal, and if I was honest the hot burning sensation of my skin added to the pleasure that was building within me.
“It’s nothing. Hurry and fuck me. Right here,” I whispered and shoved my hands under the waistband of his sweatpants.
Before I could get a hold of his cock, both he and I received a sharp and strong shock from the bracelets. Instinctively, I pulled my hand free and grabbed my wrist, wincing in pain.
Drake took me by the hand. “No time for that. We need to get to dinner. He called us there early. It shouldn’t be time for at least another hour. Something is wrong. Hurry.”
“God damn it,” I hissed, and let him pull me along. I felt like a child pouting as we went.
We stepped through the door of the dining room seconds later. The others were already there. I hadn’t been in the room more than three seconds when Bri jumped up from her seat and stalked straight toward me.
With a laugh, she said, “There’s the bitch. About time.”
I had time to frown, and my lips were on the verge of forming a word, when her hand shot out, grabbed a wad of hair from the top of my head and jerked me toward the wall. Tumbling sideways, my forehead slammed into the wallpapered sheetrock. A burst of stars flashed across my vision as I made contact. My teeth clacked together, and Drake cursed as I slid to my knees, pain radiating out from my forehead down my body. Blinking rapidly, I turned to see Drake pulling Bri away from me. She had a steak knife in her right hand, but Drake had that wrist clenched in his fingers.
As strong as Drake was, Bri still managed to pull him forward until she was close enough to strike out with her foot or free hand. Worrying that she was going to kill me, I gritted my teeth and snarled before jumping up and slamming my palms into her chest. Her breasts compressed under my palms as I hit her as hard as I could. Her head snapped forward as she was shoved backward. Drake’s grip was broken by the violence of my attack. Bri fell straight back, slamming into the ground, and the knife skittered. Liam knelt down to check on Bri, cradling her head as she tried to sit back up.
I stood over her, pointing down at the cuff on her wrist. “What was your order?” I shouted.
Bri looked at me petulantly. “It said you disobeyed an order. I was supposed to scare you. Cut you a few times with the knife. Nothing deep, but enough to freak you at. I guess he wanted me to put you back in line.” Bri’s sulky look faded, and she shook her head. The bad girl persona slipped, and she looked at me with what I could only describe as sorrow. “I had to. You know how it is. If I didn’t, he’d punish me, and make someone else do it.”
My eyes were still wide with anger, pain throbbed at my forehead, and my fists were clenched with rage. I wasn’t angry at Bri, though. I was angry at Sam. He was going to kill us all. Eventually, there would be no one left. Even Drake wasn’t safe. No matter how well you played the game and took orders it would never end. One thing the guy hadn’t realized was how much stronger he’d made us by forcing the housemates to torture and kill. We’d gone beyond what most humans had ever dreamed, and whether the rest of them understood, we were strong enough to fight back.
Sweeping my gaze across all of them, I said, “Either we get out now, or we end up killing each other. Either— ah!” the cuff shocked me, but I gritted my teeth and went on. “Either we die fighting, or we die whimpering. What do you want to do?”
Another shock burst through my wrist, searing with pain. I clenched my fingers and jaw, but didn’t let the suffering show. Liam stared at me in wide eyed shock; Elise’s mouth hung open in surprise. No one had ever been so bold about escape before. Usually it was in hushed whispers and furtive conversations in hallways. This was like an act of war. The words I’d spoken couldn’t be taken back. The entire group hung on a razor’s edge, ready to tumble into freedom or the abyss.
“There’s more of us than him,” Payton said, slowly resigned to his fate. “We can do this.”
