He just needed to wait until Jonathan visited Regan.
“This isn’t part of our deal,” Regan said, bringing Bryson back to the present.
“No, it isn’t,” Bryson snapped, stalking over to Regan. “You,” he said, poking a finger into his shoulder, “are supposed to be on your knees, begging me to stop. But instead, you’re fucking around with your normal bullshit. You wanna go back on our deal and bring my brothers up here, be my guest. But do it, and I’m done. We’re done.”
The words felt like poison on his lips.
Regan’s eyes assessed him.
Bryson steeled himself. If Regan called his bluff, he would be forced to move up his timeline.
Whatever Regan saw in Bryson’s eyes must have convinced him, because he nodded and jerked his chin towards the far wardrobe.
There, now they were getting somewhere.
Bryson moved to the large closet, anxious to see thespecialsurprise Regan had for him today.
In their many sessions, the pair had engaged in several risky activities. Including breath play, waterboarding, forced orgasms and knife play, but nothing would have prepared him for the Picana in the closet.
A copper tube about a foot-and-a-half long and the handle was connected to a large car battery.
“I want to use it on you first,” Regan whispered from right behind him.
Bryson’s skin pimpled at the proximity.
The Picana was an electric torture device. It delivered high-voltage shocks applied in short increments. Its design was specifically meant to deliver a high amount of pain while keeping its victims alive. Portable and easy to use, it was a common torture method.
Any feelings Bryson had in the moment had to be pushed aside. Regan could and would smell any hint of weakness. Hands gripping the device, Bryson didn’t even need to take a steadying breath. The weeks together had solidified what Bryson’s father had started. When he turned to face Regan, Bryson was a stone wall.
“Take it then,” Bryson said.
Hot pain shot through Bryson’s shoulder as the prod’s metal brushed his skin. His entire body tensed involuntarily, andBryson felt himself arch away from the chair. His fingers dug into the seat’s edge, and his teeth locked together.
Normally, play like this would start with a lower voltage, and at higher levels he would be provided with something to bite on to protect his teeth.
But nothing that happened with Regan was safe, sane, or consensual.
When the voltage stopped, relief filled his limbs, only to be immediately replaced with another round of punishment.
By the fifth time, the smell of burnt skin had filled the room. And Bryson struggled to stay conscious. His body couldn’t accept what was happening to it, and if he wasn’t careful, he would go into shock.
Bryson focused on his breath, trying to ground himself.
Adria’s face flashed in his mind, and he grasped at the sensation of her arms around him. Her breathing and the gentle thrum of her heart. Her red-painted lips parting in pleasure as her head fell back.
Regan jabbed the device into his side, and electricity thrummed through his body. Instead of stopping, Regan kept the electric pulses coming. Adria’s sensation jolted away, and the room blinked.
For one terrifying moment, Bryson was surrounded in darkness. But then soft hands were on his head. Fingers running through his hair. His mother’s voice floating around him.“Bryson, open your eyes. It’s your turn.”
Bryson looked into his mother’s porcelain face. His brother Luca had just finished slitting a man’s throat. The dead man’s face was frozen in a shocked expression. Like he truly believed that Luca would spare him.
Blood poured from the wound unnaturally as men carried him away.
His mother’s hand was soft at his back, as his father took the bloodied knife from Luca and handed it to him.
“Bring in the next one,” Callen said.
His father’s words and the world blurred around him as Bryson noticed the smell of something awful. Another wave of stench brought his focus back into his body.
