Kiss of the Bees

It took time to make the tape, asking her leading questions in a way that elicited mumbled but predictable answers. By the end of that, though, Mitch was concerned that it would soon be time to leave for town to keep the date with Quentin. Still Lani Walker dozed on and off. That frustrated Mitch no end. What he required from her— what he wanted more than anything—was awareness and fear. Without those, what he was doing just wasn’t good enough. He knew he would have to treat her with scopolamine once more before they left for town—a much lighter dose this time—but in the meantime . . .

Taking out a pair of rubber-handled kitchen tongs he had purchased new for that sole purpose, he laid the metal teeth on the burner of the stove, turned on the fire, and set them to heat. He didn’t take them off the flame until the rubber handles were starting to smolder.

When Mitch returned to the bed, he found Lani Walker sleeping peacefully once again. He stood for a moment looking down at her and feeling godlike, observing the smooth skin of her body, flawless still, except for those few white marks. He had the power to leave that body flawless or to mar it forever. There was never any real question of whether or not he would do it. There was only one decision left to make—choosing which one he would take.

“Lani!” he called out sharply. “Lani, wake up.”

The long lashes fluttered open, but the dark eyes that looked questioningly up at him were vague and confused. There was no still comprehension in them, still no fear.

“Watch this,” he said.

For ease of use, Mitch had left the tape recorder sitting on the floor beside the bed with the controls set on pause. With his gloved left hand, he reached down and punched the “record” button, then he slammed his good knee into her abdomen. The force of the blow sent the wind rushing out of her. Holding her pinioned to the bed with the full weight of his body, he clamped the scorching teeth of the tongs into the fullness of her right breast, an inch and a half on either side of the tender brown nipple.

Even tied hand and foot, Lani bucked so hard beneath him that she almost pitched him off her. He had to grab hold of her waist with his free hand to keep from being thrown onto the floor. Even that far away, the fierce heat from the searing tongs warmed the skin of Mitch’s own face. The shockingly sweet smell of singeing flesh filled his nostrils.

It was a magic moment for Mitch. Feeling that naked body writhe in agony beneath his was as good as any sex he ever remembered. But the best part about it was the scream. That was far more than he could have hoped; better than anything he had ever imagined. Hearing Lani Walker’s shriek of torment, it was all Mitch could do to hold back an answering moan of his own, one of exquisite pleasure rather than pain.

At last she lay still beneath him. As soon as she did so, he unclasped the tongs. He had to force the metal free from the charred skin. Around the wounded flesh, a wave of shocked goose bumps slid across her body. Mitch was surprised to see them. Who knows? he thought. Maybe it did as much for her as it did for me.

Reaching down, he quickly switched off the tape before she had a chance to say something that might somehow lessen the impact of that beautifully unearthly scream. Her sudden stillness was so complete that for a moment Mitch was afraid she might have fainted, thus depriving him and putting a temporary end to his fun. But no, when he looked down, her watery, tear-filled eyes were wide open, staring up at him in outraged, accusing silence.

Mitch Johnson wanted her to speak to him then, but she did not. If nothing else, he would have liked her to beg and plead with him not to hurt her again, but she didn’t do that, either. After that one shrill, involuntary cry, no further sound escaped Lani Walker’s lips, not even a whimper.

As the girl studied him, Mitch thought about Eve in the Garden of Eden. Like Eve growing beyond her mindless goodness, Lani had emerged from the cocoon of her drug-induced slumber. Willingly or not, she had now tasted the forbidden fruit. The dark, burning eyes she focused on him had been forever robbed of their trusting innocence.

“Welcome to the real world, babe,” Mitch Johnson said, then he turned and walked away.

He held the tongs under running water from the faucet long enough to cool them down, until the fierce heat sizzled away, first into steam and then into nothing. Once they were cool enough, he put them back in the shopping bag they’d come in originally. Then he rewound the tape to the beginning, returned it to the plastic carrying case, and put that in the bag as well.

This one’s for you, Andy, he thought. It’s a promise I made and one I kept. Somehow I doubt Diana Ladd Walker will like it as much as you would. In fact, she won’t like it at all, but it’s something she and Brandon Walker will never forget, not as long as they live.

The pain was so blindingly intense that for a time Lani wasn’t aware of anything else. The whole universe seemed centered in the seared flesh of her wounded breast. It overwhelmed her whole being. There were no words that encompassed that awful hurt, no thoughts that made such inhuman cruelty understandable.

At last, though, through her unseeing anguish, Lani became aware of the man standing over her, aware of his eyes pressing in on her and of her nakedness under that invasive gaze. She squirmed, as if hoping to escape that look, but the scarves binding her hands and legs held her fast. The only way to combat that look was to stare back at him, holding his gaze with her own.

Studying him, she was suddenly aware that he wanted something more from her, as if what he had already taken wasn’t enough; as if he longed for something else in order to achieve real satisfaction.

Trying to imagine what that could be somehow took her mind away from the searing pain arcing through her body like the burning blue flash of her father’s welding torch. And then, as clearly as if she had read his thoughts, she knew. Standing there, clothed in his presumed superiority, he was waiting for her to speak, to say something. It was almost as though he needed her to acknowledge his brutality and then bow before it.

Her only weapon was to deny him that satisfaction. She kept quiet, biting her lips to hold them together. After a long moment, he melted out of her line of vision, leaving her to ride out the terrible pain alone and in utter silence.

But somehow she wasn’t alone. The vision came surging at her out of the past the moment she closed her eyes.

Lani was five years old again, standing naked in front of the mirror in her parents’ bathroom. She had pawed through her mother’s makeup and found the tube of concealer, the white lipstick-looking stuff Diana sometimes put under her eyes before she applied her other makeup.

Carefully, looking down at her body rather than watching her reflection in the mirror, Lani drew a perfect pair