"Hello Melanie. Long time no see."
Through groggy eyes Melanie was unable to recognise the voice, or what was visible of the caller's shadowy face. She was desolated that it wasn't Peter returning with a change of heart. She took a step out of the dim light of the passageway, noticing that the chicken fried rice had completely dried, and appeared like a black hole in the night time pavement.
"What do you want?" she asked, angry at being disturbed in the early hours.
The man said nothing until his head was properly lit.
Suddenly galvanised into frantic action, she turned and fled back into the flat. But her attempts to slam the door were futile. Unable to resist his superior weight she released the door and leapt up the stairs, managing three steps before the strong grip of fingers wrapped about her ankle and brought her to the floor.
"Where do you think you're fucking going, bitch! I want a word with you."
With a heavy boot he kicked the door shut and Melanie was trapped. Her desire to resist and fight back dissolved as he looped rope around her wrists. He continued winding, finishing only when he had secured both hands tightly together.
"Remember this?" he growled. "You should have known you'd never be free. But we'd have left you alone if only you'd kept your big mouth shut. It's your own fault." He got up from the stairs and went towards the flat, Melanie stumbling behind. Inside he took one look at the room and spat out his thoughts.
"What a fucking mess! You're still a dirty pig!" He pulled the rope hard, sending her crashing onto the settee, her legs flailing upwards revealing her pantieless gash which he spotted straight away.
"No fucking knickers, the place like a tip, nothing changes, does it? You're still a fucking scrubber." He glared hard at her, trembling with anger, waiting for her to agree. "Ain't you?" he roared again. "Still a fucking scrubber, still sucking cocks for half a lager! Well?"
She simply stared up at him towering above her, half numb with shock, half terrified with fear. "Well?" he repeated. "What are you?"
"A scrubber," she whispered.
"I didn't hear you."
"A scrubber!"
"And what do you do?" he asked again, in a quieter voice.
"I suck cocks."
Knowing he had her beaten he slumped down in a chair opposite.
"Don't you worry about sucking cocks tonight," he told her. "There's going to be plenty of time for that after you've told me who this bloke is."
Melanie climbed off the settee and onto the floor then crawled across to her tormentor and clasped his knees.
"Please Colin," she pleaded. "I don't know anything. Honestly. I haven't seen you or Lincoln for years, I haven't said anything to anyone." She moved her tied hands along his thigh hoping to appease him but he rose and walked away. Still on her hands and knees she followed him around the floor trying to think how she could please him and diffuse his anger.
"Why don't you take me to bed?" she suggested. "You used to like to fuck me. You and your brother."
Colin moved to stand near her head then raised his diesel drenched boot and brought it firmly down on the back of her neck, pressing her face into a cold, greasy dish of black bean sauce, forcing her to gag as the mixture covered her mouth. Leaning over her, he gathered a knot of the flimsy kimono in his hand and tore it from her back leaving her naked backside jutting upwards, then he whipped around the loose end of the rope and lashed her arse crevice soundly, bisecting the buttocks and leaving a red weal that was broken only by the spot of her clenched arsehole.
"Give me his name, and no shit."
He pressed her face further into the juice, staining and stinging her eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been working the pub for a couple 'a weeks. I haven't seen no-one."
He gave her another lash with the rope, landing the hairy hemp in the same spot as before.
"Let's try again, shall we? Who's the fucking guy you were seen with?"
"When?"
The rope bit again leaving a thick red weal along the smile of her bottom, as if she'd applied lipstick to it. Colin gave her another stroke to brighten it further.
"Don't get smart, bitch," he warned. "You weren't smart when we fucked you stupid in the wagon and you're not fucking smart now. Stupid yes. Smart, bollocks."
He dragged her along the floor towards the bedroom, burning her skin on the nylon fibres of the carpet.
"Still got shit for brains," he scorned, and began loosening the belt on his jeans. "Looks like I'm going to have to teach you all over again."
Melanie looked on in terror as the thick leather belt slipped through each loop of his trousers.
"Please," she begged. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm past listening, bitch," he replied. "Past worrying about you. I've worried for you long enough. No more second chances, no more time. I'm going to have the skin off your arse for a waistcoat." He pulled Melanie up on the bed and gagged her with a pair of her own knickers, forcing them deep inside her mouth. Then he picked up a lacy suspender belt and wrapped it tightly around her face, preventing her from pushing the panties out.
"Now," he said, with cool detachment. "Let's get that arse up in the air." He pulled the ironing board Melanie had left open into the centre of the room and forced her to lie along it, the curved end pushing into her thighs. After tying the rope to the one end he tipped open her dressing table drawers until he found her underwear, then he took some stockings and secured her ankles to the legs of the board.
Then he picked up his belt.
He gripped the buckle firmly in his palm then wrapped the leather strap tightly around his hand several times. Without any more conversation he brought the leather around in a great arc to connect with Melanie's already stinging buttocks.
The slap of leather on skin sent quivers the length of her body, sending her head snapping backwards in response to the pain. He left it at the one for the moment, walking around to see the tears welling in her eyes.
"Do you remember now?"
She shook her head, not in defiance, for she wanted to tell him Peter's name more than anything. She wanted to stop the pain, wanted to go back to being a nobody, like she was last week. Just another tart in another pub. But Peter deserved more than betrayal. He was a decent bloke and she longed to do something decent for once in her life.
Colin went behind her and brought the belt brutally down twice more. Once for each cheek. Again he gave it time for the sting to reverberate through her body, for the initial fire to die down before returning in burning echoes that gradually levelled to a constant searing heat across her flesh. While her bottom throbbed he went casually about the room pulling out drawers and spilling the contents, kicking her intimate things around the floor and destroying the few possessions she owned.
"What do we have here?" he sneered, picking up a large black vibrator. He turned it on and rubbed the buzzing dildo around her face before pushing it beneath her and between her breasts. As the purring phallus tickled her tits, Colin started tearing apart her knickers, taunting and teasing her as he did.
"Business been good?" he mocked, sniffing the crotch of one flimsy red pair. "I bet you give a good fuck in all this gear. Two up for the sailors is it? Maybe a gang bang if they're in a hurry. What do you charge? A tenner? A fiver? I bet you'd do it for a drink, or a bag of chips?"
He threw the ripped remains of the last pair of knickers on her back then resumed her lashing, this time giving her six, seven, eight strokes of the belt.
The pain no longer came in waves, it coursed through Melanie's body in one continuous eternal throb, burning, stinging and all consuming.
But she wouldn't break! She wouldn't!
"I'm impressed," he said, with a grim smile. "That's quite some dedication. I just hope he's worth it."
The sight of Colin replacing his belt brought great relief and Melanie's bottom relaxed a little. The flesh lost its tightness if not its crimson hue. He didn't untie her though, but went about the flat kicking over tables and smashing plates. Melanie couldn't give a shit about that, as long as he left her alone. He could break up the entire place for all she cared, it was all crap anyway.
Suddenly the sounds of destruction ceased. Colin was standing in the bedroom, the door of the airing cupboard open and broken against the wall. The cupboard, like the flat, was big, it took up the entire recess on the side of the chimney breast. On one side was shelves for towels and blankets, on the other a huge copper boiler for hot water.
"You know what?" said Colin. "I've run out of fucking cigarettes."
He went across and untied Melanie, then took her over to the cupboard and began tying her around the gleaming boiler, her breasts pressed against the shining metal.
"I'm going to nip down to the garage and get some," he informed her. He checked that she was secure. "And when I get back, I think I'll take a bath."
He flicked the switch that turned on the immersion heater.
Melanie's eyelids peeled back, exposing the trembling whites. Through the saliva drenched knickers she began to scream her submission but Colin wasn't listening now. When he neared the bedroom door he turned and spoke to her.
"I'll try not to be long," he said calmly. "I just hope the car doesn't break down or something happen to me while I'm out."
She heard the outside door shut and almost immediately felt the gurgling water rise inside the tank as it began to heat up. In an effort to remain calm she tried to recall how long it took for the water to get hot when she used the heater. Twenty five, thirty minutes. That gave him half an hour to get to the garage and back. That was if he was coming back. Maybe he'd had enough. Maybe he'd thought she wouldn't tell him Peter's name no matter what, and had just decided to do her in as painfully as possible.
She began to panic at the thought of hot copper searing her flesh, scorched skin peeling away like the film on cold milky coffee. The more she panicked the more her temperature rose with the fear. Or was that the boiler heating up already?
She struggled uselessly against her bonds, raising the heat still further. Perspiration began to run in rivulets down her temples and forehead, dropping in tiny beads from the tip of her nose, and as the sweat increased she felt her naked belly and breasts become slippery against the warm copper.
Time ticked away. Inside the boiler tiny bubbles formed along the length of the hot tungsten element before leaving it to float away as the temperature increased. Melanie tried lifting parts of her body away from the metal. In order to do that she had to press another part onto it, but soon the whole boiler would be too hot to touch. Her sweating increased, her thoughts became confused.
What to do?
She couldn't scream, couldn't break her bonds. Perhaps if she squeezed the boiler tighter death would come quicker, but the human pysche isn't built to embrace death quite so easily. Her nerve ends, already sensing the danger, were telling her to run, to get away, driving her to the very edge of madness. Frantically she began jerking, pulling, straining at the chords that held her firmly against the burning metal.
"Struggling so soon?" Colin checked his watch. "It's only been fifteen minutes and already you're losing your nerve." He came across and placed his palm on the water tank, feeling its temperature, then in mock surprise he shook his hand as if trying to cool it down.
Melanie could only plead with her eyes, imploring him to release her before she was seriously burned.
"You know?" said Colin, composed and confident. "If you'd only have learnt your lesson the first time, none of this would have happened. Are you sorry?"
Melanie nodded her head furiously.
"Have you learnt your lesson now, at long last?"
Again she nodded in affirmation.
"And what about the name, are you willing to tell me his name now?"
Without hesitation she motioned her submission with further movements of her head. Colin stood behind her and ran a finger down the line of her bottom.
"How do I know you'll tell the truth?" He got down on his knees and opened the cheeks of Melanie's arse noting the wet line of sweat running down it. "You might say anything just to get me to release you?"
This time Melanie shook her head to assure him of her compliance.
Colin got to his feet and removed his trousers slowly. "I don't believe you Melanie. You always were a liar." He positioned himself behind her feeling the heat from her body as well as the rapidly warming tank. Taking hold of his erect prick he lowered it down to her anus and forced himself inside, crushing her against the hot copper tank where the heat forced her to push back. The effect sent him deeper up her darkest hole, delivering him into raptures of sexual delight.
"Hot isn't it?" he sneered, pumping at her snatching ring piece. "I like them sweating and squirming."
The heat now was almost unbearable and Colin savoured the feel of a woman struggling back onto him, impaling herself ever deeper on his engorged cock. Almost on the verge of coming, yet never losing control of his senses, he finally undid the suspender belt gag and pulled the knickers out of Melanie's mouth.
"Talk!" he snarled, his hips still pounding at her backside.
"His name is Peter Warburton," screamed Melanie. "He's the husband of Susan Warburton, one of the girls Lincoln has been using in his cab."
Colin increased the speed and power of his strokes at the memory of the fucks he and his brother had taken on the man's wife, the things they'd done to her back at the depot. "Tough shit on him," he snarled and spewed his spunk up Melanie's arsehole.
Melanie surveyed the damage to her apartment.
Everything was in tatters, her clothes were in shreds and scattered about the room. The furniture had been smashed and doors hung precariously from bent hinges. Her only sensation was numbness, her mind existing in a void of consciousness.
She was awake yet unaware, blind to the colours around her, deaf to any sounds. She had escaped this nightmare once, but the nightmare was back, more terrifying than before. The demons had been watching her all this time. They had been learning new tortures, new torments, saving them up for the day they returned.
In the corner lay the severed head of Barnie, her childhood teddy. His disembowelled body hung absurdly from the corner of the cracked dressing table mirror, a shard of glass running through his middle. Barnie had been her lifelong confessor, the only male thing that had never treated her badly, and the only remaining link to childhood innocence. Now he was gone too. She felt truly alone and abandoned by everyone.
With a deep sigh of resignation she turned towards Colin.
"What now?"
He pulled her up by the rope still wrapped around her wrists and stood her to attention.
"For a start," he said, removing her earrings, rings and ankle chain. "We can get rid of this shit. Women need to be naked and that's how I keep them." He stood directly in front of her and weighed her heavy tits in his hands. "I'll tell you what though," he added, "you ain't half kept a good body for a cock sucking bum fucked whore. I expected you to have tits round your waist and an arse sagging past your knees." He looked at the dark saddle of hair where she hadn't bleached it for a while. "You still look like a fucking tart, but at least you're in good shape."
He set off for the door, pulling Melanie behind him.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"You'll find out soon enough," he answered. "Then I'm going to do what we should have done ten years ago."
He dragged her down the stairs and out of the flat to his car, which was parked near the door. Opening the boot he told the naked woman to get in. She did as she was told and he slammed the boot shut, blocking out the faint morning light that was just appearing with the dawn.
If she'd fought for a few seconds she might have been rescued by the milkman out on his rounds. He came around the corner just as Colin was locking her in.
"Morning," he said, cheerily. "It's a cold one, eh?"
"Isn't it just," replied Colin with a smile. "Only us daft buggers stupid enough to be out in it."
The milkman left the usual pint on Melanie's doorstep and went on his way, whistling the theme tune from The Dambusters, as he went.
The sudden realisation that the engine had stopped woke Melanie from her sleep. She had tried to stay awake but had finally succumbed through sheer exhaustion. Now she had no chance of gauging how long they'd been travelling. She felt the car shake as the driver alighted and heard the key slide in the lock.
As the lid began to open she squinted her eyes, preparing herself for the shock of the sunlight. There was none. The car was in some sort of warehouse type building, with a very high roof supporting light bulbs at the end of long cables. Only a couple of them were lit, creating shadows that failed to illuminate the corner recesses.
She studied as much as she could before Colin pulled her into a lean-to office alongside one wall. Inside she only had to see an invoice for Felix Ferry to realise she was in the lorry depot. Colin saw that she'd spotted the letter heading and laughed.
"It won't do you any good, bitch. There's no way you're going to escape again."
He dragged her over to what looked like a huge meat refrigerator and pulled back the lever before flicking on a switch. The door opened slowly with a long ominous groan and a dull orange glow emanated from inside. When the doorway was finally free he marched Melanie quickly to one corner of the room and threaded the rope through the eye of a hook attached to a bar in the ceiling.
Facing into the corner, she allowed her hands to be pulled upwards then felt a strip of leather cross her face forcing its way between her teeth.
As he tightened the gag Colin's efforts pulled back her head and Melanie became aware that she wasn't alone. In two of the other corners she saw a naked woman suspended up by her wrists and gagged as she was. Neither of them moved. Their heads fell limp between their arms, missing the wall only by an inch or two. If they weren't asleep, they could only be dead.
When he finished tying the gag Colin left the room, closing the door. Melanie twisted her head despite the pain and tried to make contact with the others. At least they could see each other if they made the effort. Outside the box, Colin checked the door was locked securely then flicked the switch, turning off the orange light and plunging the women inside into total, complete, soundproof darkness.