Unshackle (Deliver 7)

Hopefully.

He wouldn’t ask the cartel a single question about Vera. If they told him she was dead, he wouldn’t believe them. He couldn’t. By the looks of the instruments they were considering, they intended to torture him. Physically. Psychologically. Any manner they pleased.

The silver lining? He didn’t see a container of spiders anywhere.

Silvia turned and sashayed toward him. Her red lips curved into a smirk, causing his heart to whack against his ribs like a caged animal. Then he saw the apparatus in her hand.

A metal dildo the size of Tomas’ dick strapped to a leather harness. Strap-ons were Liv Reed’s specialty, and he’d been on the receiving end of her thrusts more than once. But she’d used phalluses with a squeezable texture. Never metal.

Wordlessly, he watched Silvia lift her red dress and expose her bare cunt. Just as wordlessly, her brothers gathered around, staring boldly at the disturbingly erotic view their sister gave them.

This was an area of kink he had no experience in. She was blood-related to three of these men. They’d all been raised together since childhood. Talk about a mindfuck.

The sounds of quickening breaths coming from them made his blood shudder. Twitchy hands, chilling grins, the stench of anticipation. Then the deep voice of the oldest son, echoing through the room. “Answer our questions, and we’ll let you go.”

No, they wouldn’t.

He lay his cheek on the cold steel table and tried to relax his muscles. Van had trained him how to endure this without injury. The key was in not fighting the invasion.

Marco and Silvia stepped out of sight behind him, making it impossible to remain calm.

“What’s your real name?” Miguel approached the table near Luke’s head and unzipped the fly of his suit pants.

“I’m not interested in your dick, sisterfucker.”

“I’m not interested in yours, either. But I do love to watch my sister fuck.”

Feminine hands curled around the muscles of Luke’s ass, stroking and fondling and coiling him with anger.

“He’s so beautiful.” She bent over his back, fingers wandering everywhere, her hair tickling his spine with dread. “Just look at this body. Big and strong and powerful. I want to keep him.”

“We’ll see.” Miguel pulled out his erection and lazily stroked it. “Tell us who you’re connected with, John.”

Luke squeezed his eyes shut as her hand found his flaccid cock.

Please, don’t react. Dear fucking God, don’t give her what she wants.

His body would respond to her touch eventually. But he stalled it by casting his mind back to the pond and replaying his horror and fear as spiders teemed over Vera’s head. He thought about how close she’d come to dying in that water and the anguish he would’ve been experiencing now had he been forced to witness that.

“He’s not getting hard.” Silvia tightened her strokes, her grip too clumsy and aggressive.

It was the wrong hand.

The wrong fucking woman.

Miguel slammed a fist on the table, prompting Luke’s eyes to flash open. “Then make him hard.”

No, no, no. He couldn’t do this to Vera. He couldn’t respond to another woman’s touch.

A voice in his head whispered, You’re not doing it. It’s not your fault. This is rape.

Didn’t matter. As Silvia slipped under the table and drew him into her mouth, he saw red. He roared. He thrashed in the shackles. And he hardened.

Spittles of rage sprayed the steel surface beneath his lips. He choked as she sucked. His balls withered as she groped. His skin peeled away from burning muscles, shrinking with the force of his unholy wrath. And still, his cock did what it was designed to do. It swelled in the suction of wet heat.

Shame threaded through him. Vulnerability and helplessness throttled him on all sides. He’d been here before. Pinned down and degraded beneath Van’s cruelty. Only this time was worse.

He belonged to someone else. His body wasn’t just betraying him. It was betraying the woman he loved.

Voices barked in a fog around him. Questions. Demands. They fired their inquiries one after the other as a dry finger probed his ass and forced its way inside.

Her fingernail scratched through the unbearable penetration. He tried to relax, but a strange buzz flogged his ears. Heat pricked the backs of his eyes, and his vision blurred.

He checked out, left the room, and went to a place inside his head.

He couldn’t be present while Silvia sodomized him, milked him, and repeated the torture. And he couldn’t allow himself to succumb to a moment of weakness and expose his vigilante operation, his friends, or anything related to Vera.

He burrowed so effectively inside his mind that he didn’t sense the world around him. Until blinding agony seared through his rectum.

A strangled scream burst from deep in his chest. He knew the metal phallus had torn something inside him before she pulled back and rammed into him again.

Cold fire. Scathing pressure. If he’d still had an erection, it was long gone. Bile welled in his throat. He came close to blacking out as his spirit vacated his body and crashed back into his organs so violently that he shook, heaved from an empty stomach, and felt horribly, miserably dead.