Page 52 of Submit
“I’m going to kill you!” He yells as he strikes me with his shoulder, pushing me back a few steps.
It’s all he can do though. I’m bigger and stronger, and more sound in body. He’s smaller, thinner, and obviously doesn’t work on himself like I do. My muscles are cut to perfection and his are padded with too many cheeseburgers and skipped gym days. It makes me laugh as he tries his hardest to knock me down and I don’t oblige.
“Go ahead and try.” I say, wrapping my forearm around his neck and twisting his body, pulling him off me, pushing him back then taunting him. “Come on try again.” I say, waiting for him to charge again.
When he hits me the second time with the same shoulder, I simply deflect him away, then kick him in the side of the knee as he stumbles to my right. His leg buckles in and he goes down again, landing next to his discarded bullwhip. I drop my weapon and pick up his, wrapping the tail around my left hand, holding the handle in my right, pulling it taut.
He kicks and struggles as I wrap it around his neck from behind and pull tightly. His fingers grab at it frantically, trying to pull it away as his face turns bright red and his breathing stops.
“This feel good? You like this?”
He’s fighting with everything he has, and the more he flails, the happier it makes me. I want him panicking, fighting to live, and knowing that he’s going to die anyways.
Commotion at the broken down door and out in the hall makes me look up just as three security guards rush into the room. They pause, staring at me for a second, before coming for me. But when they see Millie on the bed, bleeding and hurt, instead of grabbing me and stopping me, they rush to her.
“Get her out of here.” I yell to them. They know me, they know I would never behave this way unless called for, and again, my status above him makes me untouchable. “He refused her a safe word. She’s hurt.” I call to them over my shoulder as I tighten the whip even more around Tyler’s weak neck.
“Mister Lambert, take it outside.” The voice brings my attention back to the door, and the older, white-haired man standing there with a scowl on his age wrinkled face.
“Max.”
“Adrian. Outside. You will not do this in here.” He says, furrowing his brows in disappointment at me. “Management will not approve.”
“You gonna stop me from taking him out of here?”
Silently he steps to the side, lowers his head, and motions to the open exit with a sweep of his hand. A wordless invitation to complete my task without interference.
“Up.” I bark at the flailing Tyler, releasing the tension on his throat enough that he can cough and wheeze in some air.
His arms flap around lifelessly as I drag him to his feet, directing him with the leather strap around his throat, pushing him from the room, making him trip over his own feet and almost go down a couple times. The only thing keeping him up is my strong chokehold.
“Thank you for your cooperation.” Max says as I drag the barely conscious Tyler past him. Leaning in to whisper to me, Max smiles and gives me a secret little wink. “Make it hurt.”
“Will do Max. Will do.” I say to him, feeling him brush against my side, his hand going into my pocket for a brief second before he pats me on the back and shoos us out of the room, where I drag Tyer down the hall and towards the steel door at the end labeled emergency exit.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
The cold winter air blasts me in the face as the door swings open, slamming into the brick of the building with a loud clamor, making chunks of the masonry fall to the ground and disappear into the fluffy snow cover.
Max follows us out, escorting us to make sure we’re fully out of the building, but with the look on his face, I know he intends to stay. He wants to watch, and he wants to know that it’s done, painfully. Whatever he slipped into my pocket is heavy, and weighs on my pants, and as I toss Tyler to the ground I reach in and wrap my fingers around it.
“You’re a bad boy Max.” I say, holding the large folding pocket knife in my palm, rocking it back and forth, feeling the weight of it.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sir.” He says with a devious smile and leans against the open doorframe. “Carry on.”
He’s seen the damage Tyler can do, and he’s had to stand aside and watch without being able to do anything. He’s like me, just a much older version. By the way he speaks, and they way he knows me, it’s like he’s seeing himself in me, and I feel the same towards him. He can’t do anything, but me? I can, and I am.
Tyler is in his jeans and no shirt, being barefoot, and with his ski mask discarded in the play room, he’s exposed to the elements. His bare skin must burn against the fresh snow, and as he rolls around, hacking and wheezing, he’s leaving red splotches on the bright white ground.
The knife clicks as I flick it open with the thumb stud, bringing the blade from the handle. It’s beautiful actually, with a stainless steel, super sharp, smooth edge that has the perfect curve for slicing.
A quick slice is too easy for him, he won’t suffer like he needs to, and it wouldn’t give Max enough of what I know he craves to see. With a barked yell, I kick my foot out, connecting with Tyler’s face, snapping him back, tossing his naked torso down into the snow again. He’s trying to get up, but with every advance he makes, I knock him down again.
He gets to his hands and knees, and I kick his ribs, lifting him off the ground before he crashes back down face first, his bloody face leaving a perfect imprint in the whiteness. He tries again, pulling his hands towards his waist and pushes, and I slam my foot down on the small of his back, flattening him.
His breathing is labored, and bloody spittle falls from his mouth as he tries to curse me. He may be weaker than me, but he’s taking much more of a beating than I expected him too.
