KIWI

The building we’re in rattles loudly and shakes all the way down to the foundation. If it wasn’t for the massive explosion that followed, I’d have thought it was an earthquake.

“Aww, looks like your boyfriend went looking for you.” Gunnar snickers, “too bad he’s dead now.”

I spit in his face again, “fuck you,” I growl.

He slaps me again.

Adrenaline spiking through my veins again and the pain isn’t nearly as bad as it should be, “tie her to the bed. She needs a real lesson.” Gunnar orders the other man in the room with us. I haven’t been able to figure out who he is, and frankly, I don’t care, not anymore. Gunnar leaves the room through a door straight ahead of me. The space is mostly empty but there are a few filing cabinets and what looks like an old desk next to one of them, behind the man approaching me is a table line with instruments. From this angle, I can’t make them all out, but it doesn’t look pretty.

Now’s my chance to escape. I take a deep breath as the man comes into the light. I haven’t a clue who the man is, I’ve never seen him before. He’s not even wearing a Wicked Angels patch. I narrow my eyes at him as he comes close to me.

He squats down before me as if he’s going to try and undo my bindings and instead, he leans forward and runs a fat, wet tongue over my nipple. Disgust and fear creeps into every corner of my body. I watch the man’s pupils dilate as lust consumes him. Fuck.

He opens his mouth again and I try to squirm away from him and the next thing I know, I’m crying out as pain ignites in my right breast as he bites down so hard he breaks the skin.

Hissing and breathing hard through my teeth, trying to find a way to process the pain he’s inflicted on me. I need to find my head, I need to get out of here.

He looks up at me with the evilest smirk I’ve ever seen in my entire life, blood, my blood, dripping down his chin. Then his hands are at my thigh, my breathing halts as I wait to see what he’s going to do next. I expect him to come north, to touch me down there, but instead, he traces his callused fingers down my leg. His touch makes my stomach roll.

Breathe, I tell myself over and over again. You can do this. I chant in my head. The pain in my breast a reminder of this vindictive asshole. A reminder that I need to get out of here. I need to get myself safe. I can do this.

His hand finally reaches my binding at my right ankle. I notice that he’s put himself in a vulnerable position, but I debate on whether or not connecting with his crotch is a good idea. Anyone this sadistic would probably be more turned on by a kick to the junk. But I have to do something. I test my wrists and I realize they aren’t bound to the chair. Good.

I need my other leg free. I can’t go anywhere if I don’t have that. He frees my leg and the blood rushes into my foot. It’s painful as it does.

The man before me stands and side steps to the other leg and squats again. He leans forward, repeating the process of licking my nipple. I don’t fight him. I let him do it. This time, he sucks it into his mouth and bites on it hard. I flinch but fight the urge to pull away from him. I don’t want him biting me again like he’s already done.

I don’t make a noise. No approval, no disapproval, nothing. I shut down. He continues licking and sucking while his hands trace patterns on my legs. His fingers coming awfully close to my sex and I try in vein to pull my legs together. He pinches the inside of my thigh, hard and I scream. Reflexively my legs fall open and his fingers brush the outside of my panties and I cringe. Oh god, this cannot be happening to me. I cry, but say nothing.

Growing bored with what he’s doing, his hands trace down my leg and I suck in a deep, relived breath. Bracing for what I’m about to do. He finally frees my nipple and my ankle. The blood rushes into my foot, the pain is almost unbearable this time, but I’ve got to do something if I’m going to get out of this. I lift my leg and connect the bottom of my foot with his crotch. He grunts. I push on him and he falls down. I lift my arms and stand up, pressing my foot hard and firmly into his crotch. He laughs.

I lift my foot and stomp down, hard once, twice, and finally a third time I connect and he doubles over in pain.

I move out of his reach and move toward his head. He’s squirming on the ground trying to reach me but he can’t, I stay out of reach and he’s fighting with cupping his balls or reaching for me. When he goes back to cup his shit again, I lift my foot and connect with his nose.

Blood spurts out and I both hear and feel the crunch that happens when I do. I lift my foot and bring it down again, but I miss. I dance forward and connect with him again. This time I catch him in his eye socket and he falls still. I throw down one more blow on the side of his face for good measure. My heel connecting with his temple.

Now that I’m not in the spotlight anymore, I can finally see some of what’s in the darkness and my eyes roam over to the table I saw, over by where this asshole was standing. I notice several tools on the table. I go to the table, hoping to find a knife or something. I look over the shit that’s there and some of it doesn’t make any sense. There’s a twisted piece of metal that’s at the end of a poker like you’d use in a fireplace. I shake my head and look down the line of shit and finally, at the end of everything is a knife. I turn around, grabbing it with my hand. It takes me a couple tries because I can’t see where my hands are behind my back and on the table, but I manage to grab the hilt of the knife and I do my best maneuver my hands enough to cut my bindings. It doesn’t work and I drop the knife.

I go back the chair. My eyes roaming over the idiot on the ground. He’s still passed out but I catch a glimpse of something under his shirt. Thank fucking god he’s got a gun.

When you watch movies, you see people get out of handcuffs by bringing them around their asses, then their legs coming through. I have to tell you that it’s not that simple to do. Especially when you’re cursed with a longer torso and out of time. I stand up, bending over, trying to hook my arms under my ass. It takes a couple tries and an enormous amount of pain in my wrists but I manage to do just that.

I sit down carefully, but I tweak my wrists in the process and I cry out. “Stop,” I scream, “no,” I add as I grunt and groan trying to move my hands down my thighs. My shoulders are burning like nothing I’ve ever felt before I can see blood dripping from my wrists.

I grit my teeth and push them forward before I’m able to move one of my legs enough to get it to fall back to the ground. Once that one is out, the other comes out quickly. I fall to my knees and knee crawl my way back to the knife. I pick it up and get it turned around and tucked under the cable ties wrapped around my wrists. Unable to get the leverage I start to panic. Gunnar is gonna come back in here any second. With the blade hooked under the tie, I lift my hands to the table, catching the hilt on it and pushing up. The knife pulls on my bindings and my wrists ignite in a warm rush of pain and blood, but the tie snaps. Freeing my hands.

The knife falls to the ground.

The door kicks open.

I have two choices, charge the asshole and hope for the best or dive for sicko’s gun. My eyes go from Gunnar to sicko and back to Gunnar. He’s staring at me dumbstruck. He can’t believe I managed to take down his number two.

I use his distraction to dive toward the sick bastard. Gunnar springs into action just as my hands land on the waist of the assholes jeans.

Then Gunnar is jumping on me, pinning me to the ground. My ribs explode in pain and I feel the crack of at least two ribs as I scream in pain. My air cut off by his heavy weight on my back.

I bring my foot up, trying to kick him, but I miss. Fuck.

His hand goes into my hair and he grabs it, hard, pulling so hard I see stars as he wretches my head back. I feel his hand come to my chin. Fuck.

I hear the grinding of bone in my neck. I cry as pain ignites every nerve in my body.

I don’t know how I do it exactly, but somehow, I manage to extract asshole’s gun from his waist and Gunnar’s hand comes away from my chin as he tries reaching for it. His hand still in my hair, pushes my head forward, giving me reprieve from the pain and allowing me to focus. He leans forward, further crushing my back, ribs and lungs beneath his weight. I squirm, throwing him off balance just enough to put him back on his knees. His hand in my hair pulling my head back up. “Fuck,” I cry out as I finally manage to pull some air into my lungs.

I get the gun in my right hand, his left reaching for it.

I tilt my right hand back, the barrel of the gun pointing backward toward him and he scurries off of me to my left to get away from the gun. I roll to my right, bringing the gun around. A shot rings out. Pain slices into my leg. “Fuck,” I growl and start firing the gun as I bring it around, I catch his shoulder, my focus returns and I fire three more shots. Each one into his chest as he jerks and slumps against the chair I started in.