He screamed like a bitch when I ripped his fingernails out, even through the gag he made plenty of noise.
I tossed the dripping pliers onto the pile of tools on the table, then waited....
Eventually he stopped thrashing around as the pain dulled. The leather straps held tight, the chair stayed solid on the floor.
“I'll bet you're wondering why this is happening?” I said as I removed the gag.
The thing in the chair sobbed and mewled, tear-flooded eyes downcast.
“Eleven seventeen East Hardaker Avenue mean anything to you?” I asked him.
He raised his head and took a good look at me, I could see the connection being made.
“Look, she never told me she was married, how could I know?”
“All the pictures around the house of me and her would give most people a clue, anyway this isn't about you screwing my wife.”
“Look, I... She was... ”
“I already told you, this isn't about you screwing my wife. I've been impotent for years, and she misses the physical side that I can't do no more, so we have an arrangement, I always know who and when, and I give her the space she needs. I love my wife, and she loves me, she uses men like you, but she loves ME! Comprendez?
“Please... look... I... I'll never see her again...”
“Oh, I already know that.”
“So... why?...” He said, lips quivering, eyes streaming, snot and blood dripping.
“Because you took advantage, that's why.”
“You should have left the house when she asked you to, you should have left my booze alone when she told you to, and you shouldn't have slapped her and then fallen asleep in my bed.”
I refastened the gag tightly around his mouth.
His eyes bulged as he watched me pick up the secateurs from the table...
“Now, I reckon you've just about paid for the bed, so I figure you still have to pick up the tab for the slap, and half a bottle of Jack Daniels.”
©2010 Stephen. J. Green.