Ghosting up the stairs on silent feet, we search each room until we find his. Ernesto is fast asleep, wrapped up in blankets like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Withdrawing a gun from the back of his waistband, Trey clocks him over the head, hopefully knocking him out long enough to move him.
With Ernesto being a coach, I’m unsurprised to discover that he has his own basketball court, and thought it a fitting place to stage his death. The court, being several hundred yards from the house, runs on a separate electrical supply from the house. Trey switches the floodlights on, the bright lights blinding us momentarily.
Removing ropes from the backpack, we string him up to the hoop, letting his body dangle like a worm on a hook. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for him to wake, and he pisses himself when he sees the two faceless people standing before him.
“Ernesto Diaz!” I call out. “You are accused of child abuse. Rape. Torture. How do you plead?”
His eyes fly wide, the whites showing as he struggles against the binds. “What? Who the fuck are you?”
“How do you plead?” Trey booms out, his voice carrying through the surrounding trees.
Ernesto kicks out, legs flailing as he tries to get his feet on the ground. “Fuck! Not guilty,” he cries back, his voice trembling.
“Wrong answer,” I reply, a maddening giggle escaping.
“Who are you?” he sobs.
Reaching up, I pull my mask off, stepping closer so he can make out my features. Trey follows suit, but Ernesto has eyes only for me before they shutter closed in defeat.
“Rebecca.”
“Ernesto. You have been a naughty, naughty boy. Don’t think I haven’t remembered everything you did to me and my sisters. But maybe you should tell my companion here what you did.”
He shakes his head, once again struggling at the ropes. He lets out a shout, screaming for help. Pity for him he chose privacy over having neighbors.
Ernesto has me pressed tightly to the wall in the basement, my arms shackled above my head, legs far apart and tied with wires at my ankles. If I move the wrong way, the wires will cut deeply into my skin, so I’m careful to remain as still as possible.
I clench my jaw as tightly as I can when the whip finds my back. My calf muscles constrict painfully as I try to stop myself writhing from the agony. I will not give him my cries of pain. He and the others have taken so much that I’m determined to keep those to myself. Pathetic, really, wanting to keep my tears and suffering for me. But it’s my only act of rebellion, my one way of fighting back.
The monster within takes notes, cataloging every sin against me. Waiting for the day I let it free and allow it to get the vengeance it craves.
The whip falls again, and again, my back twisting and arching with each stroke. When my back is sufficiently bloodied, Ernesto tosses it to the floor, striding towards me with his cock in his hand.
He chuckles under his breath, rubbing his hands through the welts, smearing the blood over his erection. “If you had just cried out, Rebecca, I would have spared you this next part. I would have given it to one of your sisters instead.” He licks up the side of my face, holding my head in place by my hair so I cannot turn away. Stepping back, he spreads my ass cheeks before thrusting into me, an exuberant shout bouncing off the walls. My hands form fists as I keep my lips clamped closed, doing my best to ignore the pain as he fucks me.
Rachel is crying from her cage, calling out to me, always forced to watch her sisters get raped and abused. Knowing that it won’t be long before it’s her turn.
Rage and despair whirl through me, and I vow to myself that one day, I will return the favor. I will make them pay.
Shaking off the memories, I raise my head, my gaze locking onto Ernesto’s. Grabbing a knife, I walk towards him, his pleading tapering off as he sees the promise in my eyes. He goes very still, eyeing the knife as I carefully cut the damp boxers off him.
Pulling a brand-new replica of one of Trey’s “redemptions” from the backpack, I stroke the handle, fondling the braided cords as if they were my lover. The barbed metal ends wink back at me, and I feel the darkness tugging, entreating.
Giving over to them, my arm lashes out, the singing metal flying out, striking my foe with a force that sends his head flying back, mouth opened on a scream. Blood rushes from the wounds, trickling down his chest in little rivulets that soak into the ground below him. Again and again I strike; nothing off-limits, nothing missed.
When I finally step back, he is a masterpiece of ripped flesh and blood. His eyes are closed, head limp, and for a moment, I worry that I went too far. That I won’t get to finish what I need to.
Turning, I see Trey sitting on the ground, watching me raptly. He sends me a wink and waits patiently for me to finish.
I check Ernesto’s pulse, and luckily it’s still going, although it’s a little thready. Rummaging through the bag, I pull out the sixteen-inch dildo. I’m going to recreate what Ernesto did to me. Eye for an eye, right?
Slapping him over the face is quite satisfying, so I do it again, and once more. He slowly opens his eyes, and I delight in seeing there’s nothing left in them but defeat. Good.
Waving the dildo in his face, I grin at him. “Let’s not forget the final part, eh Ernesto?” Swiping my hands through his blood, I smear it all over, then turn him around.
“If you just had been a decent human being, this wouldn’t be happening,” I say to him, changing the words he said to me. “I would be delivering this to someone else instead.” I work the monster dildo into his ass, twisting and turning it until it can’t go any further.
And then I pull it back, thrusting it in over and over as Ernesto cries out, begging for a reprieve from the torment.
