We got back inside. Our man was still by the door, almost like a trembling mannequin. A battered up one, at that. The whole image was truly pathetic. He was softly whimpering and mumbling to himself, and... well, I've already told you what he looked like. A broken, puked on mess. I really needed to do something about that stench.
I grabbed his arm and led him to the shower. He followed, lost in his own mind. I shoved him in and turned the water on. The poor thing started whimpering harder at the touch of the cool water. I didn't have the patience to wait for it to warm up, honestly.
After a couple minutes I realized the stench wouldn't get out of his shirt – not without a proper wash, anyway – so I simply ripped it all out, which made him cry harder.
I noticed Andrei was leaning against the bathroom's door frame, but I ignored him. The damned stench was still there, and it was starting to make me nauseous. I tried to find some soap to see if it would work, but Andrei stopped me, handing me a knife. "You'll want to take off his pants, too. It honestly smells like our friend also shat himself." His grin was there, wider than usual. "But, don't cut the belt, Sasha. We don't have any more." Our black tie suits meant no belt, indeed.
I sighed before cutting off his pants. Yep, the stench was now much worse, which meant Andrei had been right. I covered my nose, partly mocking the guy, partly trying not to puke. "Take that shit off and wash yourself, man. I'm not cleaning up your shit, you know." I forcefully turned him around and took the knife to his throat. "Are you even listening? Clean up. Or else."
He started whimpering loudly but did as told. Andrei signed me to follow him and leave the guy to his cleaning – which honestly was a great idea. The fresh air of the room was definitely something else.
Andrei sat casually on the bed, staring at me, wildly grinning. "So, what are you willing to do, Sasha?"
I couldn't help smiling. "Anything, Andrei. Anything you want."
He was delighted by my answer. "Show me. Make me proud. Tear him to shreds and then some."
I nodded.
Our guy finally got out of the bathroom, covered in a towel after realizing he couldn't really wear his waiter clothes anymore.
I laughed at the sight. Poor thing. Oh, well. As Andrei says, life's not fair. "Hey, man. Come here." I patted on the bed. "And drop that towel, we want to see what you have to offer."
"P-please..."
I went up to him and torn the towel from his hands. There was nothing to actually laugh at, but I laughed all the same – I had to put up an act, the truth didn't matter anymore. "Oh, boy! Look at you! Is your family from Asia, or something? Well, don't worry, it's a good thing we're not girls for you to try to pleasure – else you'd be pretty much doomed!"
Andrei was openly laughing at the dumb teasing. "Maybe he's the girl, huh? I'm no expert, but I can't really see a big difference." Okay, I laughed out loud at that one. He got up and close to us – to our waiter. "What do you say, huh? Are you our little whore?"
Oh, shit. I totally saw where this was going. Andrei grabbed the guy and brutally threw him onto the bed. The poor thing crashed hard, and was now trying to make sense of what had just happened, trying to get up, when Andrei drew a roll of duct tape out of a drawer – Seriously, what the hell was it doing in a hotel room? – and threw it at me. "Tie him up, Sasha. I'll hold him."
So I did. Legs together, bent over his belly and firmly secured there, arms crossed on his back, and an improvised gag – his constant whimpering was starting to get annoying. Removing all that tape was going to be hell – for him, anyway. It seemed like the kind that manages to get stuck and rips out chunks of skin at a time.
Andrei dragged him to the edge of the bed and then sat beside him, turning the guy's head so he'd see him. "Do you know what happens now, my little whore?"
The guy started crying harder, but the tape gag muted most of the noise.
Andrei let out a creepy smirk, as he softly caressed the man's head. "I'm gonna fuck you up." Without any more messing around, he got up and unzipped his pants – but he wasn't all that hard yet. ... You see, for him, his dick was merely just another weapon. ... A quite big one, if you ask me. Anyway, he had to give it a soft massage before he could actually get started and... fuck the guy up.
And I truly mean up. You see, with me, he tended to be somewhat gentle – we were only playing games, a controlled environment in his own words. This was different. This was real life. And he could be a real beast if he wanted.
Even with the gag, the guy's high-pitched screams echoed in my eardrums, at moments threatening to blow them up. I couldn't help staring. It was a nightmarish sight – but it was also eerily beautiful. The beast that got its prey. Nature at its finest. Except this wasn't a TV documentary on wildlife, this was my boss fucking a poor waiter. ... I didn't see such a big difference, if you ask me.
Before I knew it, it was over. Performance wasn't on the script – as with all weapons, it was the end result that mattered. And you didn't exactly need hours for that. A few minutes were more than enough to tear anyone's soul apart. ... And their asshole too. As Andrei took a deep breath to relax, I realized he had blood all over his thing. Shit. No wonder the guy had been screaming like a girl.
Now our waiter was silent. Fully realizing what he'd gotten into – or so he thought. I knew better. This had just started. We had a long night before us, and our guy had a lifetime of hell – or, well, what was left of it. Hopefully. Though, knowing Andrei, he might as well let him go, and remember. Shit. No wonder so many people sworn he was the devil himself.
Andrei sat and looked at me, beaming. "Hey, Sasha. It's alright, I won't ask you to do that, I know you too have had quite the night." He paused for a moment, so as to stress his funny joke. "But the night is far from over, isn't it?"
I smiled back. "It has just begun."
