Читать книгу Loose Ends - Don Easton - Страница 14

Wizard eyed the girl casually. She probably hadn’t reached puberty yet. She had barely spoken a word in the twenty-five minutes he had been driving. Not unusual. Grown men were usually afraid to speak or make eye contact with him. He spotted The Suit’s car parked two blocks away from the motel. Always cautious, The Suit. Always cautious.

Wizard pulled into the motel unit. It was composed of individual cabins. It was remote, which was why Wizard had chosen it. He had given The Suit the key to the room earlier.

The kid became agitated in her seat. Soon she found the courage to speak.

“What are we doing?” She said it as a question, but Wizard knew that her brain had already told her what she was afraid was going to happen. Her brain was not that experienced. Nothing in her imagination could prepare her for The Suit.

“This isn’t for modelling, is it? There aren’t going to be any pictures taken for —”

Wizard parked in front of one of the cabins and said, “Listen, kid. The guy in there, well he only likes to look. He won’t touch ya. There could be a lot of money in it for you. He does take pictures but keeps ’em for himself. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

“I’ve heard of guys like that. He’ll put them out on the Internet or something!”

Wizard chuckled. “Not this guy. He’s so afraid that someone will find out about his hobby that you won’t even see him.”

“I won’t see him?”

“He wears a mask. He’s probably more afraid of you than you will be of him.”

“No! I think you better drive me —”

“I didn’t bring you here for nothing! Pay me fifty bucks, then I’ll drive you back!”

“I don’t have any money,” she whimpered.

“Then you either get inside that room and have your picture taken, or you can stay in the car with me and I’ll take it out on trade!”

Wizard started to undo his belt but stopped as Marcie quickly reached for the door.

“I’ll wait and give you a ride back after. Don’t try and fuck with me! I’ll be watching! Oh, and give him this,” he said, handing her a small flap of folded paper.

Marcie walked up to the cabin but glanced back at the man in the car. A street light cast shadows on his face, but she could see his goatee and knew he was watching. She knocked on the door.

She noticed the curtains move, and a man’s voice said, “Come in.”

Marcie opened the door and stepped in. The only light in the room was dim and came from a table lamp. She saw the man standing at the back of the room beside the bedroom door. He was wearing a mask of President Bush and had on a jogging suit.

“Lock the door!”

Marcie fumbled with the latch and locked the door.

“You’re late!”

“Sorry, it wasn’t my —”

“Shut up! No talking! I don’t want you to talk at all!”

Marcie swallowed but didn’t speak. From the sound of his voice, she guessed he was slightly older than her own dad.

“Take off all your clothes and sit on the sofa and wait.”

Marcie could feel her body shaking. She glanced toward the locked door but then thought of the man in the car.

“Hurry up! Are you trying to make me angry?” the man yelled.

“No, mister,” Marcie replied.

“I said no talking! Now take ’em off!”

Marcie thought about what the man with the goatee had said. He was the type who only looks. It made sense. He didn’t want her to undress in the bedroom. She placed the paper packet on the coffee table and started to take off her clothes. Her hands were shaking and she had trouble with the buttons on her shirt.

“You are a young one, that’s real gooood.”

She finished undressing and looked back at the man.

“Turn the light off and sit down!”

Marcie flicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness, then sat on the sofa and drew her knees up to her chest. The man grunted something and went into the bedroom.

She could hear him muttering. A few minutes later she heard the bedroom door open and close, then he walked in and turned on a lamp. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she gawked up at him.

He was wearing only socks, shoes, and his plastic mask. He was a thin man with wavy black hair. There was no hair on his chest and his skin was creamy white. When she saw what he was carrying in his other hand, she bit her lip and began to tremble.

It was a leather leash attached to a choke-chain collar — the kind used to control large dogs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch you,” he said in a quiet, soothing voice. “Let me move the hair back from your pretty face a bit.” He gently stroked her hair with his fingers.

Marcie quivered and drew her knees tighter to her chest.

“There, that’s a good little bitch. Sit still … that’s a girl.”

Without warning, he slipped the chain over her head.

“Mister? What —”

Her words were choked off as he savagely jerked the end of the leash and wrapped a loop of it around his fist. The chain bit deep into her neck as he dragged her onto the floor.

“Bad bitch! I told you to keep quiet!”

He squeezed the collar tight while whipping the end of the leather leash across her body with his other hand. She twisted and turned, her legs writhing as she clawed at the chain. Her fingernails broke and the jagged remains gouged her throat as she frantically fought for air.

The pain started to go away. She realized she was still lying on the floor and the collar had loosened. Her lungs sucked in air and she gulped it down like water. She began to sob, but the air exploded from her lungs as the toe of his shoe struck deep into her stomach.

“You’re not at all trained, are you? You need lessons!”

He jerked on the leash and began to walk and drag her behind him. She started to get to her feet but he yanked down on the leash, bringing her to her hands and knees.

Her scream was cut short by a kick to the side of her rib cage. The pain tore through her chest. Each breath she took caused more pain. She stayed on her hands and knees, looking down at the floor. She opened and closed her eyes, trying to see through her tears.

This isn’t happening! It’s my body, but it isn’t me! It’s only a dream! It has to be! He’s moving again … I have to keep up. It hurts so much to breathe … this isn’t a dream!

“That’s right, bitch! Walk on all fours!”

He started walking her back and forth and around the coffee table, then stopped.

“Heel!” he said, barking out the command.

Marcie stayed quivering on her hands and knees. He slapped her thighs with the leash and said, “On the floor!”

Marcie sat back on her heels.

“Keep your hands on the floor,” he snarled.

Seconds later, he started walking again, leading her on her hands and knees.

Marcie was breathing deeply. She could taste the dust rising from the carpet as it found its way into her eyes and down her nose and throat. Her arms and knees burned from being dragged across the rug. Then he patted the floor beside the sofa and said, “Lie down!”

He sat on the sofa for a few minutes, only to get up and jerk her around the room on the leash again and again.

Eventually he seemed to tire of the ritual and turned on the television. He sat on the sofa to watch. Marcie stared blankly out into the room. Her brain seemed to be turning off and on. This is all a nightmare. Wake up!

She watched him open the paper packet on the coffee table and tap out two lines of sparkling white powder. He got down on his knees beside her and turned his back to her and slid his mask up on his head. She could hear the sound, like a pig, as he placed a finger alongside his nose and snorted the cocaine. She turned her head as his bare ass touched her face. He then pulled the mask down and turned and patted her on the head before settling back on the sofa. She sensed that he was smiling at her from behind the mask.

She could feel the swelling in her throat and the burning sensation where the sweat running down from her head found its way into the open wounds around her neck.

He stood up and lightly tugged on the leash. Without thinking, she got up on her hands and knees.

“That’s a good bitch! You’re young enough to teach!”

He walked around the room once more, then led her into the washroom. He stopped in front of the sink and poured himself a glass of water. She stared down at the tiled floor. It felt cool and soothed her bloody fingertips and the burning sensation on her knees. She could hear him swallow slowly and smack his lips.

“You’ve been a good bitch,” he said quietly.

His voice sounded gentle. Her mind started to come back to reality as she grasped at the hope it would soon be over. At least he hasn’t touched me…

“Do you want a drink of water? Well, do you?”

She sensed that to say no would make him angry. She looked up and nodded her head.

“Okay, drink then!” He flung open the toilet lid and pointed inside.

“No!” she replied, shaking her head.

“You don’t tell me no! You stupid bitch!”

The chain tightened around her neck; her fingers instinctively clawed at her throat. She kicked out with her feet as he dragged her across the floor. He didn’t loosen his grip on the collar while grabbing her hair with his other hand and shoving her head inside the toilet bowl. Down into the water … out … down again.

Briefly, she thought the water was full of small black bugs, but realized it was only her vision clouding over. Seconds later, darkness engulfed her.

He loosened his grip and she became conscious and blinked her eyes as water dripped from her face into the toilet bowl.

“Drink, you bitch! I said drink!”

She felt him grab her hair as he dunked her head into the toilet again, before letting go. She lowered her face and touched the water with her lips.

“Lap! I want to hear you lap!” he shouted.

She made a lapping noise with her tongue. She felt his legs on each side of her rib cage as he stood straddling her. Pain shot through her side where he had kicked her. Automatically she squeezed closer to his opposite leg.

“Lap, you bitch!”

A condom wrapper fell in the toilet beside her face. “No DNA for you, bitch,” he muttered. She glanced back and saw him masturbating.

“Lap, I said!”

She turned her head back into the bowl and felt his legs grip her body while his hand twisted and pulled on her hair. Moments later he relaxed. She could hear the sound of her own breathing in the bowl.

Without warning he yanked on the leash, pulling her backward onto the floor.

She scrambled on her hands and knees to keep from being choked as he half-dragged her across the hall and opened the bedroom door, hauling her inside. Then she heard him say, “Okay, Cutesy! Come here, boy, it’s your turn. Now … be a good little bitch and lick him off. Go on! Blow him!”