"Uh-huh." Barty agreed, leaning back against said car now and pulling the padlock Bill had opened and left open when he'd broken in out of his pocket. He dangled it off his finger, raising his eyebrows. "I guess no one's explained to you yet how padlocks work. We can work on that."
A lot of education possibilities in that area. He had a lot of ideas already. "Do you like my house, Bill? You got to take a tour. Liked the automatic lights? So much fancy technology here."
He put the padlock back into his pocket for now, holding up his phone instead. And showing Bill the screen, playing the footage of Bill discovering the dungeon. "Hasn't it occurred to you that a house like this would have cameras?"
"Nah." Fuck. His eyes widened and he looked at Barty for a while before eyeing up the ceiling, trying to work out how to worm his way out of this one. "Right, so, I can give you the stuff back. I didn't take anything much, honest. Like a pair of socks and ... stupid card didn't even work." He didn't know how to activate it so it was just in his jacket pocket. "You can call the cops, if you fancy."
Then he could warn them about psycho serial killer man who drugged him and tied him up. "Cause-Cause you don't wanna, like, you know, do this sort of thing. Then we're both in trouble..."
"I don't see why I'd be in trouble. No one's seen me take you." Barty shrugged, not overly worried. He also turned his phone around, put it into camera mode and took a few pictures of Bill right now. Negotiating phase. It was fun to witness.
"I'm not the biggest fan of cops. I prefer sorting things out personally. Man to man." He pushed away from the car and stepped closer to Bill, looking down at him. He ran his fingers through Bill's hair, then grabbed it to force his head back. Pretty boy, admittedly.
"You'll look cute when you're scared. I like that."
"If you're settling it man to man than you should let me go." Wasn't that usually a fight. Cause he was an alright fighter and maybe he could outrun this bastard after a few good hits and get to the cops. No way did this guy not have a murder basement somewhere or a creepy cabin in the woods he used to torture people. Maybe he was a fucking gangster! Fucker had Tesla money, he had to be corrupt somehow.
He gritted his teeth and glared at Barty, his pride wounded. "I'm not scared. This is just fucking stupid." He tried the cuffs again and then huffed in annoyance. "If you wanna settle it like men, let me go."
"Well, I was thinking of a different kind of exercise, but sure." Barty shrugged his shoulders and then put his hand into the other pocket, fishing out the keys for the handcuffs. He handed them to Bill and stepped back again, leaning against the car and calmly watching.
Scrawny little boy. No, he was not worried about taking him in a fight. "Shame you want to do it the hard way."
Bill wasted little time taking the cuffs off. Well, he definitely called his bluff but come on, he stood a better chance. He was tall, thin and rich. Probably never had a fight in his poncy little life. "Come on, mate. 'Ave at it then."
He raised his fists and partially circled Barty, eyes on the front of the garage and then the door to the house. Probably the door to the house he wanted, then he could leave by the front door. He doubted the garage would open for him. "What? You scared to fight me. Pussy." He moved closer and spat at Barty, smirking a little before he surged forward and decked the bloody bastard in the face.
Ugh. How gross was that? Barty was relieved the spit didn't actually hit him, not that he liked it on his floor either, even if this was the garage. He didn't have time to obsess over that right now, he had a twink punching above his weight to deal with.
Barty was faster, for one thing. He moved his arm to keep Bill's hand from actually connecting with his face, then snatched his wrist. A moment later and he had thrown him over his shoulder onto the ground, hard.
He had a feeling that hard was the only way Bill would learn, so he was on top of him immediately, punching him in the face twice. Then he used a grip on his shoulder to bodily turn Bill around, so he was lying face down under him. He kept him pinned, sitting on his thighs and twisting his arms behind his back, sure to be painful.
Jesus, where the fuck did that come from? Bill groaned in pain and struggled under Barty, happy to play as unfair as he could as he tried to scratch at Barty and knock him off but nothing seemed to work. Barty was actually strong - who would have thought that? The posh bloke had him pinned.
"Get off me!"
He tried his best to get up but it was useless. He just needed a second. A fucking second of him releasing his weight and then he was legging it to the door. Should have just done that to begin with. "I'm gonna kick your teeth in, you arse!"
"Somehow I doubt that." Someone was slow about learning a lesson, it seemed. Barty took his wrists in one hand - they were slim enough - and forced them high up on his back, wanting it to hurt. With his free hand, he reached inside his inner jacket pocket and got his knife out. He'd come prepared, after all.
He held the blade against the side of Bill's face, wondering whether reality would sink in enough for him to hold still. "Don't move now. Show me you can be a good boy, Bill, or we will have to do this the hard way."
There was a knife against him and he had no idea what to do but he didn't stop struggling at first because why would he? The first reaction to have is not stay still, it's to panic... right? That was normal. Eventually he did finally still, lying on the floor with his face against the garage floor, eyeing up the knife from the side.
"You're a lunatic, you are. You can't fucking kill me, I told people about you. I told them you were dodgy and if I'm missing, it's you! I'm not an idiot." Not entirely, at least. "People will know." Well. Alfie knew. And maybe Tommy but Tommy was dead clever.
"Right. I think I can deal with your not so much boyfriend just fine. Read your messages. Very illuminating." Mostly reminded him of how gross twenty-something year olds could be.
Barty didn't cut him much, but he did cut him. On his cheek, just below the eye. To make it more real. To make him understand. "Anyway. I have no intention of killing you. You're much more fun alive."
He leaned over to grab the handcuffs and put them on Bill's wrists. "You broke into my house. I'll break you."
He hissed at the cut and closed his eyes, terrified this fucked would go up and try to stab his eye out. He couldn't predict him at all, he just knew he was bad news. Rich, strong and had a fucking torture dungeon. "It's not just my mate, I told other people!" Well, worth a try, maybe it would scare Barty into thinking twice.
God, he hoped Alfie was smart and told Tommy so he'd call the cops. That was his best odds. "Come on, mate. This is just nuts. I can pay you back and-and I'll not tell anyone about this, yeah?"
Barty simply didn't reply now, he kept a hold of the boy's cuffed hands and got off the floor, pulling Bill with him. Then, holding him close with an arm around him, he spoke near his ear as he gestured to the door. "Do you want to go up or down?"
He could terrify him either way, which was what he was really after. For a start. "You should stop arguing. Just gives me more incentive to shut you up."
So that was his options then? Murder basement or kinky dungeon. Fucking hell. "I-I wanna stay here." The garage was okay, not a lot of things in here and he was pretty sure if he had to, he could yell and someone might hear. If he got into that house, he was never getting back out. Fuck. "Let's stay, yeah?"
He closed his eyes, cursing whatever bad luck he had, wondering if he was really dodgy or just kind of freaky. "Come on, mate, I can make it worth your time to let me go. I'll ... suck you off? I'm good at it, promise. Then we call it quits."
"Of course you'll suck me off. I'm sure you'll do well. If you don't, I'm not feeding you." Seemed simple enough. Barty marched Bill along with him as he approached the door, which opened automatically once they were close enough.
He walked through the narrow hallway, Bill in front of him, then pressed the button on his keys that made the door to the basement open. Down worked for him. Gave Bill something to work towards.
It was dark here, brick walls and wooden stairs. And, once they started walking down and the light came out, the basement was clean. Clean, with a cage standing in it. Some rings on the wall, and a door leading to another room. Simple was best sometimes.
"Nah, I said garage. If it ain't an option, I should get to pick!" Bill insisted because that wasn't fair, he didn't want to pick the murder basement. He wanted to resist but he knew it was pointless to fight him. He had to think fast or he was going to be stuck in the murder basement.
What were the odds that yelling would work? The door was still open. What other tool did he have? Had to be somewhere nearby or maybe someone else had access to the cameras. "HELP!"
Worth a shot. He swung his leg back and kicked Barty as hard as he could, fighting against him to try and get back up those stairs. "THERE'S A MAD FUCKER HERE!"
"Mad fucker, hm?" Funny. Barty let go of Bill and then gave him a light shove. He could see how he made his way down the rest of the stairs, he just hoped he'd not break his neck.
The door slammed shut above them, automated like most of his doors. Barty leisurely made his way down the stairs, grabbing Bill by the hair once he reached him, to drag him along. He walked over to the middle of the basement and let go of him, looking down. "You should probably stay down, bitch boy. You don't have the manners to be admitted up in the house yet."
"Fucking hell." Bill muttered because he had just fallen down the rest of the stairs and had no hands to catch himself so his head was ringing a bit and his ears were ringing. He yelped when Barty started dragging him by his hair, struggling against him. "Come on, this ain't funny. I learned my lesson and I'm not -- I'm not into kinky shit so if you're coming onto me, it's a no, mate. It's really ... come on, this is fucked up. You can see that, can't you?"
What the hell was he going to do with him in here? Why was there a cage? Why did anyone ever need a cage?! "You really don't have to do this."
"I really don't. I get off on it though, so why wouldn't I?" Seemed like a good argument to him. He looked down at Bill and considered his options here, mostly thinking of what he wanted and how quickly he wanted it. "Take your jeans off, Bill. I'm sure you can manage, squirm around a bit."
Couldn't be that difficult, the boy seemed decently flexible. "I think a couple days in here will have you mellow out a little." Seemed reasonable enough. "We'll see. It never takes me that long to make someone appreciate kink. Anyway, this is for me. Not for you. I'm enjoying myself."
"So you have done this before?" Well, didn't that just spell doom for him? He looked down at himself and then frowned. "I got my shoes on..." Would be hard to wriggle himself entirely out of his jeans but he was in a murder basement with no escape, he was not going to question it all too hard. He wriggled and writhed and yeah, the jeans didn't really stay on hips. They weren't his, he nicked them from Alfie. The leg dragged along the floor too, wasn't he best look.
He looked up at Barty and pulled a face, a little uneasy. "If I'm gone a couple of days, I'll get in trouble. I have work and stuff. I can't be here that long." He had work, he had money he owed his dealer, he had a deadline for payment. It would cause all kinds of problems. Then again, he'd probably never leave again so what did it matter. "Please, mate..."
"Shh, darling. You worry too much. Or about the wrong things, at least." Barty lifted his shoulders a little, watching Bill. "All that matters to you right now is in here. It's me. Only you and me. The past doesn't matter. We'll see about the future. Outside isn't an option. So focus on me and maybe we can get through this without that much fuss."
He doubted it. But one never knew. "You can take your shoes off too, darling." He supposed he should have clarified. It was nice that he tried to follow to the letter though.
"Right." Bill used his feet to get his shoes off, which took some struggling on the second one. "Don't toss my shit, it's all I have right now." He didn't know if he'd live or not but he kind of wanted to be buried in pants and that was his only pair so here's hoping.
Once he was out of his jeans and shoes, he looked up at Barty and frowned. "What if I paid you back?" He had to keep trying, he knew he had to 'focus on the now' or whatever but the now was a murder basement. "I'll make it up to you." He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. "We can make a deal." He knew he couldn't but he hadn't accepted it yet, he didn't want to.
"I don't need to make a deal. I already have you." Seemed simple enough for him, but he supposed he could understand why it was taking Bill some time to wrap his head around. Didn't mean he was about to humour him, however.
He looked Bill over and then crouched down in front of him, catching his eyes. "Do you remember when you spat on me, bitch boy?" A more appropriate nickname for this line of conversation.
"There's punishment for that. Clearly you can't control your drooling so well."
"It weren't drool, I ain't a baby." He fucking spat at him, he didn't like Barty saying it that way. It all sounded demeaning. And it was. It was very demeaning cause this arrogant fucker was in charge and fucking knew it. Bill looked away from Barty purposefully, just trying to control what he could in this whole mess.
"I'm not a child." He didn't need punishing. "If you're that pissed over it, call the cops like a normal person, you barmy cunt."
Barty huffed out a laugh. Barmy count, he actually liked that one. He smiled and then moved quite suddenly, grabbing one of Bill's wrists and dragging him over to the cage. He knelt down next to him and quickly unlocked one of the cuffs. Then he wrapped the cuffs' chain around two bars of the cage before closing the cuff around Bill's wrist again.
"Stay down."
That said, Barty got up and headed for the door that led to another basement room. "I'm getting you a few things. Have you ever heard of a stress position?"
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A lot of education possibilities in that area. He had a lot of ideas already. "Do you like my house, Bill? You got to take a tour. Liked the automatic lights? So much fancy technology here."
He put the padlock back into his pocket for now, holding up his phone instead. And showing Bill the screen, playing the footage of Bill discovering the dungeon. "Hasn't it occurred to you that a house like this would have cameras?"
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"Nah." Fuck. His eyes widened and he looked at Barty for a while before eyeing up the ceiling, trying to work out how to worm his way out of this one. "Right, so, I can give you the stuff back. I didn't take anything much, honest. Like a pair of socks and ... stupid card didn't even work." He didn't know how to activate it so it was just in his jacket pocket. "You can call the cops, if you fancy."
Then he could warn them about psycho serial killer man who drugged him and tied him up. "Cause-Cause you don't wanna, like, you know, do this sort of thing. Then we're both in trouble..."
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"I'm not the biggest fan of cops. I prefer sorting things out personally. Man to man." He pushed away from the car and stepped closer to Bill, looking down at him. He ran his fingers through Bill's hair, then grabbed it to force his head back. Pretty boy, admittedly.
"You'll look cute when you're scared. I like that."
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He gritted his teeth and glared at Barty, his pride wounded. "I'm not scared. This is just fucking stupid." He tried the cuffs again and then huffed in annoyance. "If you wanna settle it like men, let me go."
So he had an honest chance at winning.
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Scrawny little boy. No, he was not worried about taking him in a fight. "Shame you want to do it the hard way."
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He raised his fists and partially circled Barty, eyes on the front of the garage and then the door to the house. Probably the door to the house he wanted, then he could leave by the front door. He doubted the garage would open for him. "What? You scared to fight me. Pussy." He moved closer and spat at Barty, smirking a little before he surged forward and decked the bloody bastard in the face.
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Barty was faster, for one thing. He moved his arm to keep Bill's hand from actually connecting with his face, then snatched his wrist. A moment later and he had thrown him over his shoulder onto the ground, hard.
He had a feeling that hard was the only way Bill would learn, so he was on top of him immediately, punching him in the face twice. Then he used a grip on his shoulder to bodily turn Bill around, so he was lying face down under him. He kept him pinned, sitting on his thighs and twisting his arms behind his back, sure to be painful.
"I suggest you give up."
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"Get off me!"
He tried his best to get up but it was useless. He just needed a second. A fucking second of him releasing his weight and then he was legging it to the door. Should have just done that to begin with. "I'm gonna kick your teeth in, you arse!"
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He held the blade against the side of Bill's face, wondering whether reality would sink in enough for him to hold still. "Don't move now. Show me you can be a good boy, Bill, or we will have to do this the hard way."
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"You're a lunatic, you are. You can't fucking kill me, I told people about you. I told them you were dodgy and if I'm missing, it's you! I'm not an idiot." Not entirely, at least. "People will know." Well. Alfie knew. And maybe Tommy but Tommy was dead clever.
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Barty didn't cut him much, but he did cut him. On his cheek, just below the eye. To make it more real. To make him understand. "Anyway. I have no intention of killing you. You're much more fun alive."
He leaned over to grab the handcuffs and put them on Bill's wrists. "You broke into my house. I'll break you."
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God, he hoped Alfie was smart and told Tommy so he'd call the cops. That was his best odds. "Come on, mate. This is just nuts. I can pay you back and-and I'll not tell anyone about this, yeah?"
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He could terrify him either way, which was what he was really after. For a start. "You should stop arguing. Just gives me more incentive to shut you up."
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He closed his eyes, cursing whatever bad luck he had, wondering if he was really dodgy or just kind of freaky. "Come on, mate, I can make it worth your time to let me go. I'll ... suck you off? I'm good at it, promise. Then we call it quits."
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He walked through the narrow hallway, Bill in front of him, then pressed the button on his keys that made the door to the basement open. Down worked for him. Gave Bill something to work towards.
It was dark here, brick walls and wooden stairs. And, once they started walking down and the light came out, the basement was clean. Clean, with a cage standing in it. Some rings on the wall, and a door leading to another room. Simple was best sometimes.
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What were the odds that yelling would work? The door was still open. What other tool did he have? Had to be somewhere nearby or maybe someone else had access to the cameras. "HELP!"
Worth a shot. He swung his leg back and kicked Barty as hard as he could, fighting against him to try and get back up those stairs. "THERE'S A MAD FUCKER HERE!"
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The door slammed shut above them, automated like most of his doors. Barty leisurely made his way down the stairs, grabbing Bill by the hair once he reached him, to drag him along. He walked over to the middle of the basement and let go of him, looking down. "You should probably stay down, bitch boy. You don't have the manners to be admitted up in the house yet."
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What the hell was he going to do with him in here? Why was there a cage? Why did anyone ever need a cage?! "You really don't have to do this."
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Couldn't be that difficult, the boy seemed decently flexible. "I think a couple days in here will have you mellow out a little." Seemed reasonable enough. "We'll see. It never takes me that long to make someone appreciate kink. Anyway, this is for me. Not for you. I'm enjoying myself."
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He looked up at Barty and pulled a face, a little uneasy. "If I'm gone a couple of days, I'll get in trouble. I have work and stuff. I can't be here that long." He had work, he had money he owed his dealer, he had a deadline for payment. It would cause all kinds of problems. Then again, he'd probably never leave again so what did it matter. "Please, mate..."
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He doubted it. But one never knew. "You can take your shoes off too, darling." He supposed he should have clarified. It was nice that he tried to follow to the letter though.
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Once he was out of his jeans and shoes, he looked up at Barty and frowned. "What if I paid you back?" He had to keep trying, he knew he had to 'focus on the now' or whatever but the now was a murder basement. "I'll make it up to you." He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. "We can make a deal." He knew he couldn't but he hadn't accepted it yet, he didn't want to.
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He looked Bill over and then crouched down in front of him, catching his eyes. "Do you remember when you spat on me, bitch boy?" A more appropriate nickname for this line of conversation.
"There's punishment for that. Clearly you can't control your drooling so well."
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"I'm not a child." He didn't need punishing. "If you're that pissed over it, call the cops like a normal person, you barmy cunt."
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"Stay down."
That said, Barty got up and headed for the door that led to another basement room. "I'm getting you a few things. Have you ever heard of a stress position?"
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