~ His Pet ~ Chapter Seven

"~ His Pet ~ Chapter Six" 


Chapter 7

Riker's Correctional Facility
Riker's Island NY
Monday June 10th

Every inch of Summer's body ached as she stood shivering beneath the scalding water. Her mind screamed with an agony the body could not yet grasp. A soft sob escaped between her clenched teeth as she scrubbed franticly at her traitorous flesh, trying to erase the feel of his hands on her. Batista had been relentless and ever so creative. She was sure she was at least a quarter of the way through the Karma Sutra, thanks to the tireless convict. The night played through her tortured thoughts with all the vivid brutality of a Night of the Living Dead flick.

Her body's betrayal shattered Summer. How could she respond as a woman to this monster? Even now, he ground his spent member inside her, his long fingers plucking at her sensitive nipples until she writhed and whimpered like a whore for him. The harsh gasps and muffled cries at the door told her that her... their ...capturer she corrected, still watched and obviously took his pleasure from this sick little game.

Batista continued his sensual grind, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he licked and nipped at her nape. One hand twisted and teased her nipples to painful peaks while the other slowly stroked her clit. White-hot anger coursing through her veins, she screamed in outrage. Desperate to end the unbearable humiliation, she twisted and bucked like a wild mustang to rid herself of this man on her back. The big man's response was immediate as his arm released around her throat to grab the back of her neck, forcing her head to the cold floor as he thrust his hips hard in a reminder of her position.

She ground her teeth together, struggling to move and feeling him hardening inside her tight walls. Summer was scared and a little intimidated with Batista's recovery time, as he started to thrust with long sure strokes. His free hand slid back down over her mound once again. The ease with which his thick digit teased the delicate bud into a hard, throbbing, knot of pure need, was terrifying. She could have sworn the big man was in here for drug trafficking, but perhaps he had moonlighted as a gigolo. The sound that came from deep in her throat was part moan of pleasure, part groan of despair. As her natural moisture started to flow, his thrusts became faster, deeper, harder. On its own accord, her body started to rock back into his thrusts, aching for the fulfillment it knew he could deliver. Even as her cries of pleasure had echoed, sobs of self disgust had wracked her body.

Shaking herself from her pointless self-loathing, she slowly twisted the shower knobs to off and wrapped a towel about her. Limping to her locker, she pulled out a fresh uniform as her weary mind played back this morning's continued horror. Talk about an awkward morning after.

The precise click of dress shoes on the corridors tiled floor woke Summer from her uneasy slumber. She still lay on the cold floor, curled into a ball, back pressed to Batista's warm chest. She had lost track of the number of times he had ravished her body through the night. When he had finally decided to sleep, she had discovered that the big man liked to cuddle. He had soothed her struggles and sobs with soft caresses and a deep crooning voice, until god damn her, she had snuggled into him accepting the warmth and comfort he offered.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw he was awake as well and watching the door. His dark eyes were leery and hooded. She could feel his mighty muscles tensing in preparation for whomever or whatever would be coming through that door. The foot steps stopped outside the door and Batista's massive arms tightened around her, drawing her tighter to his body in what seemed to be a possessive or protective gesture. The door opened and Summer's heart sank as she stared into the sinister, grey eyes of the warden.

The smug smile that curved his too thin lips sent shivers dancing down her spine. She recoiled from the menace that radiated from him, pressing her self deeper into Batista's embrace.

"How sweet, my pet. You have become protective of your little whore already. Like a mastiff with his bone," he sneered.

Batista tensed slightly but didn't move as the master continued.

"Perhaps you should have considered my proposal with a tad more care, little girl. I think you would have found my advances to be a bit more civilized and the accommodations much more to your liking."

She took a deep breath, her body tensing in anger, but before she could get a word out, Batista's huge arms painfully crushed the air from her lungs. Panic filled her as she fought for air and her ribs creaked with the pressure. The warden's annoying nasal laugh filled the room as blackness started to swirl before her terrified eyes.

"David's been enjoying my hospitality for a while, little girl, and I believe he is politely telling you to pick your words with care," he whispered coolly.

Batista loosened his grip and she franticly sucked in great gasping breaths. She bit down on the inside of her cheek until a sickening copper taste flooded her tongue and she felt she had some control over her temper. Looking slowly up at the warden, she wanted badly to wipe the superior smirk from his lips. She opened her mouth to speak and he held up an admonishing finger.

"Shut up and put these on," he ordered tossing her a pair of NYPD grey sweats and a matching t-shirt.

She stared at them dumbly for a long moment. They were Bryce's. After washing them, she had stuffed them in her duffle bag, intending to drop them off at his place after shift. She was shaken from her stupor by an urgent nudge from Batista. She glanced back at the warden and the look on his lean, pinched face made her heart leap into her throat. His grey eyes gleamed with a maniacal glow. The fucker scared the ever-loving shit out of her and he wondered why she had politely declined his advances. Hastily, she scrambled into the sweats, trying not to think of Bryce and the night they had shared. She was becoming the queen of bad morning afters; first Captain Catholic, and now her starring role in beauty and the beast.

Dread crawled down her spine as she followed the warden through the lower halls of Riker's . The knowledge that there was a tunnel connecting the Asylum with the prison filled her with despair. Its existence spoke of years of these little games going undetected. As they took another turn in the seemingly endless maze of dark halls, she recognized solitary confinement. Her stomach flip-flopped in fear. She hesitated, heart pounding, as Warden Souder paused before a cell door, looking back at her expectantly.

"Don't be shy, officer Leblanc. I am sure a familiar face will be a comfort to him."

Watching the warden from the corner of her eye, she inched forward, fighting the rising panic. Glancing inside the cell, she allowed a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. When they did, her knees crumbled. Catching herself on the door, she struggled to pull it together. She shook her head mutely. It couldn't be.

"Charlie?" she choked.

The slender man stirred from his fetal position, turning to the door. He brushed his long, matted hair back, revealing a face scarcely recognizable through the swelling and bruising.

Staring at her baby brother through the small window, Summer just wanted to curl up and cry with him. He lay naked and alone on the cold, hard floor of "the hole" when only weeks ago, he had been safe in a medium security facility upstate. She turned slowly to Souder. It was painfully obvious the smug bastard had planned his revenge ever since she had declined his advances. What the fuck was it with men anyway? She had never kidded herself into thinking she was anything special in the looks department. Did she have "Easy Lay" or "Door Mat" tattooed on her somewhere she wasn't aware of?

"Check mate," she whispered.

Souder smiled.

"The game is just beginning, Leblanc."

Her talk with the warden had been simple and to the point. She kept her mouth shut, did as she was told, and both she and her brother Charlie would live. Checking her uniform in the full-length mirror, she let her mask fall into place and headed for her cellblock.


Liberty Apartments
Queens, New York
Monday June 10th

Sinking to her knees, the phone tumbled from nerveless fingers. Heart pounding, she struggled to draw a breath, terror threatening to overwhelm her. Her stomach heaved and she lunged for the trashcan just as lunch came back up. Bile burned her throat, eyes watering as she emptied limited contents. Eyes squeezed shut, dry heaves wracked her slender body. Her mind franticly tried to make sense of Souder's voicemail. Shaking her head mutely, Summer staggered to her feet. Frantic, her eyes darted around the cozy apartment. The thought of the sick bastard defiling her only haven was too much.

Snatching up her duffle bag, she hastily emptied it of all but her toiletries. Gathering a couple changes of clothing from a basket she hadn't put away, she stuffed them in the bag along with a book she was reading. Standing on tiptoe, she retrieved a lock box from the top of the closet. Removing her credit card, she slammed the box haphazardly back to the top shelf and spun, grabbing the bag and her purse on the way to the door.


McSorley's Pub
7th Street Manhattan
Monday June 10th

Taking a long pull on his beer, Bryce sighed and settled back against the booth. Rubbing at tired eyes, he rolled his shoulders, casually cracking his neck. He was exhausted. Carson had ordered them off for twelve hours, and yet his mind wouldn't shut down. He prayed a couple cold ones would take the edge off enough to allow sleep. The urge to drink until he didn't dream was strong. His sharp gaze worked the room noting bloodshot eyes, dark circles, enlarged capillaries, vacant stares, and trembling hands. Wearing the badge took its toll.

The door opened and several heads turned. Bryce followed their craning stares and was surprised to spot Summer. She paused just inside the door looking self conscious as she clutched a large bag over her shoulder. Slowly, she started to weave her way through the crowded tables, head lowered, avoiding the leering invitations tossed her way. He stood as a fool caught the strap on her duffle. He didn't need to say a word. Foolish, but not looking for trouble, the young officer released his hold with a respectful nod in Bryce's direction. Summer stepped gratefully into the curve of his arm, allowing him to direct her into his booth.

Realizing that the other was likely waiting on someone, they spoke as one. Apologetic words tumbled forth, both stuttering and stammering as they spoke over one another. A burst of self-conscious laughter halted their words. Silence hung awkward for a long moment before they both blurted,

"I didn't feel like being alone."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the booth. Bryce toyed with his beer; berating himself for the blush he felt warming his cheeks. He muffled a curse into the long neck bottle, lamenting his complete lack of charm when it came to dealing with this particular female.

Across from him, Summer traced the individual tiles in the table top with a finger. She wondered what it was about this man that made her feel safe, regardless of his obvious discomfort. She lifted her head and spoke, hoping to eradicate his tension and find comfort in their similarities.

"I'm not sure what is worse," she mused, "the constant stress or the sleepless nights."

"The sleepless nights, alone," Callahan supplied flatly, polishing off his beer and raising a finger to a waitress.

"Coming home to a cold, empty apartment," she countered.

"Meals for one."

"No one to share your day with."

"Uneven mattress wear."

Summer arched a questioning brow at him.

He shrugged innocently and they both laughed.

"~ His Pet ~ Chapter Eight"