Derek choked and sputtered, his broken body unable to fight back. The sound was wet, pathetic, like the wheeze of a dying animal.
But Brandon wasn't finished. Holding Derek steady, he began to tie him to the chair with thick ropes, each knot pulled tight with meticulous precision.
Derek squirmed weakly, his breath hitching as the ropes bit into his battered skin, but it was no use.
Brandon's hands worked quickly and expertly, binding Derek so securely that even the faintest attempt at resistance was futile.
When the ropes were done, Brandon stepped back, surveying his work. Derek slumped forward, his head drooping, but the bindings held him upright, forcing him to remain on display.
"Good work," Ross said with a faint smile. His eyes flicked to the bed, where crimson stains from Derek's earlier torment had seeped into the sheets.
"Now, clean this up. I want everything spotless."
