The Gilded Madonna, Garrick Jones [best fiction novels txt] 📗

him, he may not be able to go through his ritual before sodomising me and then slitting my throat. I was positive he’d never stick his penis in my mouth, no matter what threats he used against Mark. Murderers of his sort were fixated on their ceremonies. Everything had to be “just so”. It was worth the risk, refusing to go along with his requirements. Maybe he’d just shoot me. I didn’t know.

“Tell Smith this is my farewell outfit, copper,” he said to Mark. “I wear it when I say goodbye to people. If he says another word I’ll have to gag him again. Maybe I’ll make you sit on the end of the bed and he can gag on what’s between your legs, eh?”

Mark turned his head in disgust. I could feel the anger growing in my belly; not a good sign. I had to get into self–preservation mode, pull myself back to the days of fight for your life, something that required a cool head and a will of steel.

He threw his hat across the room and then stretched over me, rubbing himself against my buttocks.

“What shall we talk about, copper?” he said to Mark while I lay as still as I could, despite my revulsion and the fear of unwanted sexual assault.

“The children,” Mark said. “Tell me whether the children are safe.”

“Of course they are. None of us boys would ever hurt a child. We promised Johnny.”

“But their parents—”

“Their parents can make more. They’re being looked after. My mate, Freckles, who so kindly looked after you? You see, he and his missus can’t have kids. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because he tried to save me on the night Johnny left when they all took turns and then beat me rotten afterwards. For his efforts, they held Freckles down and one of them kicked him in the nuts over and over. Told the superintendent he’d been kicked by a horse and said if any of us spoke up, they’d kill us, not only us two, but also my other mates, those who were friends of Johnny’s. The doctors at the hospital couldn’t do anything to save his balls. This is his reward—his and his wife’s—two nice quiet children of their own.”

“But they’ll be desperate for their mother and father, Dennis. They’ll be scared and frightened.”

“They’ll get over it, won’t they, Clyde?” he said, giving me a pelvic bump and then biting the back of my neck. I clenched my buttocks involuntarily. “Oo, nice to see you’re anxious for a bit of rough love. Save it for when we get serious,” he said and then licked my ear. I shook my head away.

“Think of those kids, Dennis,” Mark pleaded. “Don’t you remember what it was like to be left by your mother? I was too young, but my entire life I’d have given anything—”

“My mother tied me up and left me like a dog at the entrance gate of the home I grew up in. I’ve hated her for as long as I remember, Detective. At least these children will be loved and cared for. What do you think, Clyde?” he added, bouncing hard against me. The action pressed my hips into the bed and strained the small of my back, but my arms and legs were so stretched apart, each bounce pulled at my joints. I winced.

“Oh, am I hurting you?” he asked. “Here, let’s make it easy. I want you to enjoy this as much as me.”

He pushed a hand down between us and started to knead against my anus with his knuckles, rolling his hand as he did so and chuckling at my discomfort. I turned my head into the mattress and bit it hard to stop myself screaming, not because what he was doing hurt, but with the frustration of having allowed myself to be immobilised so completely.

“Now, don’t do anything rash, Clyde,” he said. “I’m going to move your hands together, one at a time onto the top handrail, to allow you to relax a little. Your shoulders and your arse cheeks are as tight as a drum.”

He put one knee in the middle of my back, the other immobilising one arm while he quickly unlocked one cuff from the underside of the bedframe and then snapped it shut on the long top rail of the bed. He did the same with the other. “Better, Clyde? Come on, show me what you can do,” he said, kneeling between my legs and grabbing my scrotum in his hand, his thumb and forefinger encircling the neck of my ball sack. I arched my back. The pain was minimal, but it was a reflex action, trying to draw away to protect myself. He laughed and slapped my arse, several times on each cheek, chuckling as I flinched with each slap, until I finally relaxed into the mattress.

“Why are you doing this to Clyde?” Mark asked.

Kemeny stretched on his side on my back, leaning on one arm, the elbow of which pushed against the base of my skull. I grunted. He was playing with me, but I felt that the longer I appeared to be annoyed, and not afraid, the better my chances were. I couldn’t imagine he’d let me go, but if I appeared to be acquiescent, perhaps I could come up with some plan to get away. The only thing I could think of was to ask to be allowed to use the dunny, to clean myself out before he … then, maybe I could overpower him in some way or another. I had no plan, but I was quick at seizing the moment. I knew I could wing it if I could get into the right position with him slightly off guard.

“Why am I doing this to Clyde? Because he took away the only person in my life I really cared about.”

“Really? Tell me how you think he did that.”

All at once, I sensed the aggressive change in his body. He growled out his reply. “Because it