Page 13 of Saved By The King's Gamma

The branding iron.

Liam raises an approving eyebrow as he observes my choice, chuckling underneath his breath at the accompanying whimper from our plaything on the table. There are few things more satisfying than shaping willful flesh with fire and metal.

With one hand firmly gripping the branding iron’s handle, I turn to face Liam.

“Fancy a barbecue?” I suggest gleefully, enjoying how Doyle squirms on the cold table at the mere mention of flame meeting skin. The rush of fear alone is enough to stoke our own excitement further.

“Delightful!” Liam responds enthusiastically. “Medium-rare or well done? Oh I could make some Doyle steaks. I will make Alpha Dean taste him!” Liam almost squeals with excitement.

A surge of electricity zips through me at his words. This is why we make such good partners in crime; it is this shared joy in our vile actions that adds a dark spice to everything we do.

“Let’s start with medium-rare and see how he fares, we don’t want him dying too quickly.” I suggest. The thrill of the approaching torment igniting a sickening harmony within us.

“We need fire, I will go ask the Alpha if he has a gas burner,” Liam says, strutting out through the front doors before I hear a shriek from someone outside. No doubt from the state of him since he is covered in blood.

While I wait for him to return, I relish in Doyle’s helpless whimpers knowing what is coming.

Liam returns with a small, portable burner.

“Here we go,” he chimes, setting the gas burner down with care. His eyes gleam with anticipation as he ignites the flame, casting an ominous glow around the room.

I hold the branding iron over the flame, watching as it begins to glow red, then white. The smell of heated metal fills the air, an appetizer to the main course. My pulse quickens in anticipation as Doyle’s weeping intensifies.

“Aw, now don’t start crying just yet,” I coo down at him. “I haven’t even touched you with it yet.”

Sweat beads down Doyle’s face in rivulets, mingling with the tears that stain his cheeks. His body shudders under our hands and we exchange amused glances over him.

Once satisfied that the iron has been adequately heated, I lift it from the flame. The air sizzles ominously around it and a small wisp of smoke curls toward the ceiling.

“Ready?” I ask Liam, though it barely registers as a question. Liam nods in response nonetheless, his eyes fixed on the branding iron with an obsessive fascination.

I let out a low hum of satisfaction at Liam’s eagerness before turning my attention back to our victim. I lower my hand slowly until the glowing head of the branding iron is inches from Doyle’s sweat-slicked skin.

He writhes beneath me trying fruitlessly to escape but it only serves to heighten my amusement. The whimpering reaches a frenzied pitch as his flesh sizzles and burns, the smell of seared meat wafting into the air. Liam nearly doubles over in laughter at the sight, clapping a bloodied hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. The man is crazy, and I love him for it.

I lift the brand from Doyle’s chest, revealing a perfectly rendered burn of a cock, of course Liam made his brands into dicks. His screams still reverberate around the room long after the branding iron has left his skin.

Liam’s predatory grin returns as he regards Doyle. He wipes his bloody hands on his apron and holds up another tool - a matching cookie cutter.

“I believe it’s your turn, brother.”

“I promised Alpha Dean a dick steak! I even found some marinade,” he chuckles, producing a marinade sauce from his apron pocket. Doyle whimpers as Liam approaches and stabs the cookie cutter into his chest, sawing it back and forth around the brand to make his steak piece. Doyle passes out and Liam pouts. “Oi wakey wakey,” Liam slaps his face a couple times.

“Pussy, hopefully he wakes when I make sausages from his intestines. For now I want to marinade this, we could restock his fridges at this rate, plenty of Mr. Porky to go around.” Liam chuckles, using his knife to slice his dick shaped steak out.

8

A gnawing hunger twists my stomach, relentless and cruel. I am absolutely starving, my body weakened by the relentless denial of sustenance since I arrived in this wretched place. The mere thought of food sends a surge of longing through me, but the girls who dared to offer me a morsel of anything were met with brutal beatings. I can’t bear to witness their suffering, not when my torment is unbearable. So, when the heavy door creaks open, I release a weary sigh and reluctantly disentangle myself from the bed, knowing all too well what awaits me.

Slumping onto the cold, unforgiving ground, I lean against the rough wall, seeking a smidge of comfort in this wretched existence. Only Kade enters the room this time, his imposing figure halting in front of me. Usually, it would be Cassandra who made her periodic visits, injecting me with some vile concoction that prevented my ability to shift. But today, she is nowhere to be seen.

“Get up!” he barks, his voice dripping with malice.

“Pardon?” I respond, confusion clouding my senses. This is not the usual routine, which scares me. Kade always derives pleasure from forcing me to watch as he indulges in indecent behavior with those poor girls before forcing himself upon me afterward, making me taste them on his cock. Now, his intentions seem different. A flicker of unease tingles in the air as he kicks me.

“Get up and get on the bed,” he commands, his tone laced with an unfamiliar urgency. Before I can comprehend his words, he reaches down and seizes my arm, wrenching me to my feet. My body rebels against his grip, instinctively fighting against the impending violation. My hand lashes out, delivering a stinging slap across his face, but it is futile as he retaliates with a vicious blow to mine. Pain ricochets through my body, blurring my vision and leaving my face throbbing with agony. Blood spurts from my nose, staining the air with a metallic tang as I stagger backward, my hair ripped painfully from his grasp.

In a daze, I stare at the ceiling, disoriented by the chaos unfolding around me. Kade’s furious growls reverberate in my ears as he lunges at me. Desperation fuels my actions as I lift my leg, quickly striking his balls. The impact elicits a grunt of pain, affording me a momentary respite to roll away and escape his clutches. But he is relentless, gripping my hair and wrenching my head back with brute force.

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