"You can f.u.c.k right off. I have nothing to apologize for. They deserve it. Every f.u.c.king bruise. Especially Sheila. f.u.c.king worthless c.u.n.t. Can't even f.u.c.king wear clothes. At least I dressed her."

I thought of the French maid outfit Sheila was wearing when I first met her. Falling out of it, was more like it. Three sizes too small for her. Some dress. But, I kept my opinions to myself.

"Evan? How many girls have you had here?"

"What the f.u.c.k is it to you?"

"Call me curious."

"Seven. Counting the b.i.t.c.h over there, eight. Mostly hookers desperate to keep out of jail. What are you a f.u.c.king cop? A f.u.c.king FBI agent?"

"How many have you killed?"

He sneered. "Seven." I couldn't tell if he was lying or not. I thought I saw truth in his eyes, but I had a hard time telling. It was easier for me to tell if a female was lying.

Jane bent her head to my ear. She whispered, "I think he's telling the truth." She shuddered. Jane was pretty good when it came to these things. I believed her. Thus I believed him. I was dealing with a G.o.dd.a.m.n serial killer here most likely. And I now knew what Sheila's ultimate fate would likely be if I didn't intervene for her on the prime timeline.

I nodded. I turned Jane's head and whispered in her ear. "Tie his ankles apart." She looked at me questioningly but walked past him to the closet to get some rope.

I held the madman's gaze until he finally looked away.

"Sheila?" he called his former slave. I wasn't sure what he was up to. But I was taking Jane's warning seriously. Sheila might turn on me if she was afraid of Mayer enough. "Honey? I didn't mean to hurt you. Truly."

Sheila turned to me helplessly. Frightened.

"Awful big bruises for being unintentional," I commented.

"Tell him, Sheila. Tell him that I didn't mean to hurt you. You fell down some stairs by mistake."

I waited wondering what she'd do. I knew what had happened. If you renamed his feet stairs, then the descriptions might have been more accurate.

Tears were forming again in Sheila's eyes. I briefly debated the idea of getting her out of here, before he managed to get to her. If he managed to regain control of her, I would have a h.e.l.l of a time rea.s.serting myself as her master. I didn't particularly want to go through that. On the other hand, if she managed to resist him, she'd be well on her way to recovery. To usher her out, or have her stay and fight him.

Jane emerged with the rope. She paused as she processed what was going on. I could almost see her mind working. She was still behind him holding the rope easily behind her, out of his sight.

Jane spoke up, saving me from making the decision. Mayer turned and glared at her. "Sheila. Sweetheart. Look in a mirror. That one over there." Sheila's mind locked onto the female voice and obeyed. Looked at herself in the wall mirror. Cringing at the sight of herself. "See that stain on the carpet?" Jane pointed to the remains of the b.l.o.o.d.y caesar. Sheila nodded mutely. "When we found you, honey, he'd just kicked the h.e.l.l out of you because you brought him the wrong drink. You couldn't pick the right one. They were both b.l.o.o.d.y caesars. Or tomato juice. Or whatever the h.e.l.l he put in them. It didn't matter. That's the point. He'd poured the thing over your head, whatever it was, and kicked you until you fell. He raped you. You wanted to have s.e.x with him after that? Did he even ask? Then he slapped you silly. Look at your face darling."

Christi had walked slowly over to the weeping girl. Gently touched her shoulder. She continued where Jane had paused, "He did this. You think he didn't mean to hurt you? You honestly believe you fell down stairs? This is your chance to kick the h.e.l.l out of him instead of the other way around."

I watched Christi and Jane in amazement. These naked women saying all the right things. Far better than I ever could have. They far better understood the workings of the female mind.

"You f.u.c.king little wh.o.r.e," he hissed at Christi. "Who the f.u.c.k do you think you are?"

Christi turned to face the judge. "Your worst f.u.c.king nightmare. I'm going to make you wish you were never ever f.u.c.king born. It's going to be a pleasure to kick the s.h.i.t out of you. You worm."

Jane moved slowly in front of him. Still holding her coil of rope loosely in her hands.

"What the f.u.c.k do you think you are going to do with that, b.i.t.c.h?" he growled as Jane moved into his line of sight with the rope.

"I've been ordered to tie your feet," she replied with hate in her eyes. She really didn't like this guy calling her a b.i.t.c.h. And he knew it. He was taking advantage of it. Trying to provoke her. She'd get her chance to get even. If she held on to her self-control.

"The h.e.l.l you will. b.i.t.c.h."

"I have to."

"You come within kicking distance and I swear I'll give you a kick that will make that c.u.n.t's ribs look normal."

I nodded to Jane. It wasn't necessary to force her to endure one of those kicks. She paused just outside what she judged was his kicking range. She silently gazed at him, almost rage smoldering behind her brown eyes. Waiting. I rose from the chair and walked over to him until my face was centimeters from his. He didn't try to kick at me. Knew better. "I'm getting real tired of your mouth."

"Too f.u.c.king b ... oooooooooooooofffff." The air collapsed out of him.

My right fist crashed into his stomach. I drove my left into his solar plexus. He looked a little like a fish out of water. Trying to convince his paralyzed muscles to breathe. Mouth silently opening and closing. I smiled and motioned for Jane to continue. I walked slowly back to my chair.

Jane knelt by his feet as he was far more interested in trying to breathe than to worry about what she was doing. Jane had wrapped cord around both ankles and tossed the ropes to the side before he could draw breath. She had scampered well out of range before he had recovered sufficiently to even think about kicking out at her. She bent to tie the cords off to spread him, as ordered, but I signaled to her to wait. She padded over to my chair.

"He'll resist you tying them off anyway. Wait until he's a bit weaker. Just tie them off loosely so he can't get an effective kick at you." I turned to Sheila as Jane moved off to tie off the ankle ropes loosely to the eyebolts set in the wall. Sheila was still gazing at her battered body in the mirror, tears silently tracing down her face. "Sheila? You want the first shot at this guy?"

She was still crying a bit. She shook her head. She'd join in when she was ready.

I motioned Jane and Christi. They didn't need to be told twice. He was still shaky from my punches, and his face actually registered some fear as the two girls approached him. It briefly crossed my mind that I was really glad I wasn't in his place. I knew these girls.

Chapter 81.

Mayer weakly aimed a kick out at Jane, but being unfettered she easily danced out of the way. His ankle actually didn't get very far or have any real strength, being brought up short by the ropes Jane had attached to him. I thought I even heard her stifle a laugh. My mind flashed back to Sheila desperately trying to avoid that same foot. Her knees and hands bound. Unable to simply dance away. She wasn't laughing at the time.

Mayer simply wasn't all that coordinated. I actually had my doubts if he could have mounted any kind of offense or defense against Jane. Even if he'd been unbound. She was more in shape and faster than he was. h.e.l.l, even Sheila was probably a match for him despite the size differences. His style was to use blackmail and treachery to wear the girls down. Bully them. Then, when they were bound, and defenseless, he'd break them. Batter them physically while they were unable to fight back until they no longer believed in themselves. Believed that he was bigger, stronger, more powerful than them. Sheila hadn't been completely broken yet. But she was well on her way. The technique, while not elegant, would work. I had to give the b.a.s.t.a.r.d that.

Jane sauntered up to him, behind the kick and whispered something in his ear. All I caught was the word "b.a.l.l.s". He paled at whatever she had said to him and tensed. She casually balled her fist and swung it in an wide arc. It hit him under his ribs. Not quite hitting his solar plexus. He grunted and then incredibly he grinned.

Jane had struck out at me once. Granted she wasn't really trying at the time. Just hammering her small fists into my chest in an expression of female frustration. I remembered after her marathon in the mall. It hadn't actually hurt all that much. She simply didn't have the strength to seriously hurt him. Not with her fists. But I wasn't even sure she was trying to hurt him at this point. Just getting out her frustrations.

Christi stepped in and let her right hit him in approximately the same place. This time his eyes registered a bit of discomfort. After all, I had softened the area already. Jane got the idea and again drove her fist into his midriff. She grunted as she felt the force of the blow in her hand and arm. Christi followed with another strike. Alternating, the girls used their small fists, always aiming to hit him in the same place. Just below the solar plexus. Finally, he began to break under the constant pounding. I suspect that the girls were hurting themselves more than him, but I wasn't really sure. I could still see the hate smoldering in their eyes and his.

Finally Evan began to breathe a little harder and grunt as the small fists continued to rain down on him. Quant.i.ty was making up for quality. At least that was the theory.

Jane suddenly stepped back, cradling her right hand. She managed a weak smile in my direction.

"I think I softened him up for you," she managed to get out. She was breathing hard. Her hand obviously in pain. You could hurt yourself if you didn't know how to throw an effective punch. I doubted Jane knew how. I was tempted to teach her.

"You okay?" I asked her.

"I'm alright. I'm feeling a bit better now." I a.s.sumed that she meant that her anger was fading. Punching someone tended to be a good release for anger. Even if it wasn't particularly effective and hurt the puncher more than the punchee. Pure stress relief.

Christi threw a couple more weak punches at him and stepped back as well. Knowing that she wasn't being particularly effective. He felt them, but it wasn't hurting him to the degree these girls wanted. Christi rubbed her knuckles as well.

Evan recovered his breath faster than the girls.

"You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.hes. .h.i.t like girls," he taunted them. Despite his words, I could see that he was feeling it. I decided to let the girls fight this battle themselves. They didn't need me. Let them figure out how to hurt him. They were smart.

At the words, I could see the anger building back in Jane's eyes. When he'd finished speaking, she suddenly whirled on him. She hissed at him, "For the last f.u.c.king time. You don't have the f.u.c.king right to call me a b.i.t.c.h." Tears of hate and anger were forming in her eyes.

She instinctively swung out her leg. It actually was a d.a.m.n good approximation of a roundhouse kick. Probably dumb luck. Her bare foot caught him hard in the side. About where he'd let Sheila have it. She almost fell with the effort. Her anger more than made up for her small size. I wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of that kick. Even with her foot bare, she managed to connect hard.

Evan gasped as her foot connected with his body. Again, he completely lost his wind. Not expecting the vehemence behind the blow. Trying to draw breath. Jane managed to regain her balance and stumbled back to her feet. Her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. This was quite visually stimulating. The way the girls moved and strained, trying to hurt Mayer. Their perspiration sheening their bare skin.

She watched Mayer as he managed to convince his paralyzed diaphragm to begin working again. He struggled to gasp out one word. "b.i.t.c.h."

Jane closed her eyes, looking defeated. She'd put everything into that kick. She drew in another deep breath and lashed out again with her bare foot. Aiming for the same place. She was an athletic girl. Her legs had some muscle behind them. Her foot connected just under his ribs again. She cried out as her bare foot took some punishment from the effort. I could see that she was hurting herself. But she was more than determined to hurt him more, despite her own pain.

This time, when her foot hit him, Evan grunted in pain. I couldn't imagine him maintaining his obnoxiousness much longer in the face of these kicks. I knew that when Jane tired, or couldn't take the pain any more, Christi would gladly take over. If I were him, I'd be saving my strength instead of insulting the women. They'd barely begun.

Jane's kick didn't knock her quite as off balance as last time. She was beginning to get the motion of the kick down a little better. She returned to her feet and regarded him. More satisfied with the look of pain on his face. This one had almost definitely hurt Mayer more than her.

This just looked so surreal. Here was this older guy, in a business suit, tied to the ceiling. This pet.i.te completely nude teenager standing shakily in front of him. Almost pure rage emanating from her. It was like a palpable fog surrounding her. Completely and utterly focused on her task, ignoring her nudity. Drilling roundhouse kicks into his double breasted gray suit. It just struck me as unreal. Watching her bare foot, with her deep red toenails, so feminine, so delicate, so viciously striking into him. Flashes of her s.e.x as she stumbled. Her bare body sheened with her efforts, like she was covered in baby oil. Her soft grunts as she kicked him. Sounds like you might expect a quiet woman to make during love making. I shook my head, trying to clear the impressions. Wanting to watch the display. Make sure everything was going smoothly.

He raised his head and looked at her. Still breathing hard from her last kick. "All your f.u.c.king fingers and toes. Enjoy this while you can, b.i.t.c.h. I'll have you screaming soon enough."

Jane closed her eyes at the words. Opened them and aimed another kick into his side. This time he tried to avoid it. The first sign that he was actually feeling it. The ropes held him in place as Jane's bare foot connected again. He let out an involuntary cry, but I doubted if he was anywhere near the pain level he'd caused in Sheila with the same technique. Jane simply didn't have the weight or the technique. She tried to make up for it in pure spirit.

This time Jane didn't wait for him to recover. She lashed out again. Regained her balance. Kicked him again. And again. And again. He was twisting in the bonds. Christi and I were watching in fascination as Jane just continued the onslaught with her feet. Mayer couldn't breathe. Completely unable to tense, or avoid the kicks to his side. Jane finally stumbled and fell to the carpet. She buried her head in her arms and wept there. Her right leg slowly moving back and forth on the floor. Her breathing a mixture of frustrated sobs, simple fatigue and pain. She was certainly getting her work out today.

Christi bent down to Jane. "Are you alright?"

"I. I guess. My foot hurts." Jane managed to get out.

Christi smiled. "If it makes you feel any better, he's hurting too. Probably worse that you are. Guess we aren't much in the fighting department. We'll do it together. He'll hurt."

Mayer recovered more quickly than the upset girl on the floor. Incredibly he mouthed off again.

"Hey b.i.t.c.h? That the best you can do? Christ, it's going to be fun to break your f.u.c.king weak fingers. And I'll teach you not to f.u.c.king kick me either." He was breathing a bit hard, and was in some obvious discomfort. But he still managed to be an a.s.shole. Didn't he realize that it only made it easier on the girls to hit him when they were angry? Not the brightest star in the sky.

Christi rose to her bare feet and regarded the bound man. She began to walk towards him. Getting ready to continue the kicking exercise. She stopped when she felt a small hand on her shoulder. Turning, her eyes widened as she realized it was Sheila.

Sheila, her face showing obvious fright but also a measure of pure determination, whispered to Christi. "My turn."

Christi gave her a kiss on the cheek, her unbruised left one, and backed off. Nodding silently. Knowing that Sheila needed to do this. To confront her tormentor.

Sheila walked hesitantly up to her former master. She glanced down briefly at Jane who had managed to draw herself up into a sitting position, hugging her knees and rocking herself slowly. Her eyes were still tearing a bit mostly in frustration, but she watched Sheila approach Mayer. Fascinated.

"What the f.u.c.k do you think you are doing, c.u.n.t?" Mayer stared in hate at the nude frightened woman in front of him.

"Y-you hurt me." Sheila whispered.

"And I enjoyed every f.u.c.king second of your pain. Those bruises hurt? How about your ribs? b.l.o.o.d.y useless c.u.n.t."

Sheila dropped her eyes. Tears overfilling them. Her bare body shook as she tried to control her fear and pain. I watched the drama in fascination. I idly wondered if she would break, or she'd manage to overcome her fear.

"I. I hate you." She managed to gasp out.

"You pathetic little c.u.n.t. f.u.c.k. Why don't you just untie me and let things get back to normal. I won't punish you."

I watched as her head rose, her eyes flashed and she drew in her breath. She gathered some of her formidable inner strength. She managed to stop crying. Her eyes locked with his.

"You will punish me. You always will no matter what I do. I hate you. I may be standing here, naked and scared. But I'm ten times better than you are. A hundred time better. I'm not a c.u.n.t." She spat out the word. "I have a c.u.n.t. And you'll never ever use it again. I'm not worthless. I'm not useless. I'm Sheila McBain. And that was never. Ever. f.u.c.king. Good enough for you. I deserve better than that."

She gathered her strength and spat in his face. Her spit splashed into his forehead trickled down.

He sneered at her. Unable to comprehend what she was going through.

"You are a pathetic worthless c.u.n.t. Remember those fingers and toes? That's really going to hurt. I promise it. I'll do it nice and slow. Breaking one every ten minutes. Letting you feel it. And when I run out of fingers and toes, after I ream you, I'm going make you watch as I gut you alive. You f.u.c.king waste of skin."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Wincing at the pain in her side. With no warning at all, she mimicked Jane's roundhouse kick. She put every ounce of her strength behind that kick. Her bare foot connected with his side and he twisted in agony. She fell heavily to the floor, in tears as the force of the fall drove the pain deep into her side. She lay there gasping and wept. Jane, favouring her right foot, crawled over to Sheila and just cradled her. Trying to ease her pain. Even through her tears, Sheila looked like she had just shaken the weight of the world off her shoulders. She'd just let out months of pain, suffering, frustration and humiliation. She was beginning to heal. She needed this. Badly. She sobbed uncontrollably in Jane's arms.

Evan just moaned as he tried to control his pain. Despite her handicaps, the kick had been a vicious one. It had landed squarely on the same spot that Jane had targeted. I wasn't a great judge of these things, but it wouldn't have surprised me if she had managed to crack a rib on him. An eye for an eye, if she had actually managed to do it.

Between gasps Mayer still managed to get the word out. "b.i.t.c.h," he whispered. Still defiant. The man had more stamina than I had originally given him credit for.

I watched as Christi moved slowly towards the man.

She spoke to him. "I want you to apologize to both of them and me."

"f.u.c.k you, b.i.t.c.h."

She stiffened her fingers and slowly pressed them into the area that Sheila had just kicked. Deep into his flesh. I could see the pain in his face as Christi probed his side. But he gritted his teeth and refused to yield.

Jane murmured from the floor. "It's not worth it Christi."

Christi held his gaze. She was taller than the other two girls and could pretty much look directly into his eyes, though she did have to look up a bit. Her eyes were mere centimeters away from his. He glared back at her, easily enduring the pain her fingers were causing. Keeping her left fingers ground into his side, I watched as she brought her right hand up to touch him through his pants.

"You want to f.u.c.k me. Don't you b.i.t.c.h? I'm a lot better than him. Trust me little girl." He had noticed the pressure of her hand. Mistaken it for an intimate gesture. He rocked his hips obscenely into her hand.

His mouth then opened in a soundless scream. I saw her right hand gently squeezing about where his b.a.l.l.s were. It didn't take much of a squeeze there to cause intense pain. Ask any male. She released him.

"You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h. You can't do that." He pulled desperately at the ropes. Bucking his hips against the pain.

Sheila had managed to control her crying and was watching Christi with her undivided attention. Jane idly stroked Sheila's hair but was all eyes as well.

Evan turned to me with desperation in his eyes. He spoke to me. "Call your b.i.t.c.h off. You must know what it feels like. You can't let her do this."

I shrugged.

"Evan, darling. I can do whatever the h.e.l.l I want. I told you I was your worst nightmare," Christi spoke softly to him. She jerked her head towards me. "He gave me permission to do whatever the h.e.l.l I want. As long as it doesn't kill you. Why he wants a f.u.c.khead like you alive, I don't understand." To be honest I doubted if any of the women had the stomach to actually kill anyone anyway. She gave him another squeeze. He cried out again. "This won't kill you. Unfortunately."