Tatum snorts as he nods, going to the sink to wash his hands.
“It’ll hurt like a motherfucker if he tries to open his mouth at the very least,” Jamie says quietly.
“That’s the point. Traitors usually get their tongues cut out, but I want him to enjoy the taste of his own dick while we remind him of all his sins,” I say.
Beckham gags at my words, and Jamie pulls a bottle of water from one of his many pockets.
“Don’t think about it,” he suggests, pushing the bottle into Beckham’s hand.
Beckham coughs as he nods, taking a sip.
Tatum dries his hands before picking up a needle and thread that’s on the table.
“Won’t he bleed out?” Beckham asks nervously, pointing to the hole where Ralph’s dick was.
“Nah,” Tatum says, but picks up the blow torch to cauterize the wound. “I’ll fix it.”
Starting the flame, he runs it over the wound, grinning as Ralph screams. “Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire…” Tatum sings off key loudly as I snicker.
Even Beckham cracks a smile as he leans against the wall. While I wouldn’t suggest using a blow torch in a medical setting, we don’t plan to keep Ralph alive for longer than the next hour. It’ll be fine.
“Alright, moving on,” Tatum says, turning off the blow torch to continue with his sewing.
Ralph tried to throw up while Tatum was busy with the blow torch, but since I won’t let him open his mouth, he’s forced to swallow it back down. Tatum works painstakingly slowly with his needle and thread, ensuring that it hurts as much as possible as he sews up Ralph’s lips.
“Perfect,” he mutters. “Let’s take a photo to show Edgar, shall we?”
Since my fingers aren’t as messy, I take a photo of a smiling Tatum, pointing at Ralph’s ruined pelvis.
“You might want to leave for this next part, Beckham,” Tatum says, picking up a pole. “I think he needs to feel what he put you through. This pole is bigger than his little cock, but there won’t be any lube to help him.”
“Oh my god,” Beckham whispers, straightening. “No, I’ll stay. If it gets to be too much, I’ll step out.”
“Okay,” Tatum says, easily.
Moving around Ralph’s body, I hold open his ass cheeks, while Tatum makes the pole fit as Ralph is forced to scream with a mouthful of cock. I’m pretty sure he pukes again, but that’s toodamn bad. Tatum continues to sing highly inappropriate songs as he rapes Ralph with the pole, until he gets bored.
“I think fire is a great way for him to die,” Tatum muses, tossing the pole to the side.
Stepping back, I watch as Tatum grabs a roller and some paint thinner and begins to cover Ralph in it. The room can withstand a bomb if we set one off in here, so I’m not really worried about it.
“Do you know if we have the bow and arrows in this room?” Tatum asks conversationally.
Ralph is flailing, finally understanding that his death is going to be gruesome. We aren’t going to just kill him, but flambé his ass too.
“In the closet,” I reply, pulling off the gloves and washing my hands. “Anything else you need?”
“The kind of arrows that I can light up with a nice fire,” Tatum says, stepping back to survey his work. “Aww, now the little alpha is crying. Too little, too late, dickhead.”
“Beckham, how’s your aim?” I ask, moving to the doors for safety reasons. I hand him the safety goggles and the bow, enjoying the way his jaw drops.
“I guess it’s okay?” he says, trying to piece together what’s about to happen.
“Perfect,” I say as Tatum and Jamie join us.
“Alaric is going to light your arrows, and you’re going to shoot them at Ralph,” Tatum says. “He’s living target practice until he’s dead. Afterward, Alaric and I will drive him out to the pig farm so they can have the bastard. They don’t care how well cooked their meat is, they’ll still eat it.”
“Ready?” I ask, waiting for Beckham to get into position and pull back his arrow. “Here we go.”
