The stark sound of metal scraping metal, together with an overwhelming feeling of coldness, coaxed Tom to open his eyes. Groggily, he surveyed his surroundings. A dark, box-like room encased him, lack of light distorting his perception of just how big it was. All at once he became aware of the smooth steel on which he was seated; the seat itself was icy cold against his skin, while various elaborate parts of the supposed chair dug harshly into his tender back.

…His naked back. His blood ran cold as he felt the creamy white flesh of his thighs nestled snugly together and realised he was definitely nude. A good squirm confirmed his belief that he was indeed fastened tightly to the piece of furniture. Naked, restrained, and in a place that sure as hell was not his flat. Not good.

“Awake at last, then.”

The familiar voice accompanied a faint figure before him that loomed closer, abandoning its bed of shadows from which it had birthed. In a flash, the voice clicked into place.

“Booker?”

All at once, a sharp snap echoed as a makeshift blind was drawn and the last light of dusk flooded in through a window. The moon was out and accompanied the pale haze, casting poles of silvery light down the centre of the room. There was the leering face of Dennis Booker, all smarmy and snake-eyed, his thick, ebony lashes and perfectly sculpted eyebrows complimented by the beam of the moon.

“Hi Tommy.”

Tom struggled again in a vain attempt to liberate himself, before meeting Dennis’ amused gaze, and inquiring, flustered, “Where am I?”

Dennis’s face split into a wide, classic grin. “Church Belfry.”

Tom was becoming increasingly alarmed. “Did-Did you bring me here?!”

His only answer was a mad gleam in Dennis’ eyes in the stagnating trademark grin.

“Why the hell am I up here?!”

Dennis laughed slightly and looked to the floor.

“Answer me!!”

Dennis raised his head and strolled casually towards the bound and naked young man.

“Just thought you and I could do with a little quality time together,” he circled Tom like a vulture, before seizing a handful of his soft chestnut locks from behind, and wrenching the dark head back. He smirked as his stare locked with that of the wide, feminine eyes below him, and the plump cherub lips that glutted on the indigo shadow.

The eyes flickered to meet with the sight of a long slender blade glinting avariciously between Booker’s fingers. A knife. His bottom lip trembled and his heart fluttered.

“De-Dennis. Please. We- we don’t need a weapon to worry about. You use that thing and things are gonna get ugly. I’ll have to arrest you…”

His voice trailed away as he became away of Booker’s harsh laughter. “Well get you, little buddy,” he sputtered between giggles, “telling me the score, am I gonna go to prison, Mr police officer, sir? You gonna karate chop all that rope to pieces and arrest me butt naked in a church tower? Jeez, Tommy, you’re a stupid little bitch, aren’t you?”

“Let me go!!” Tom spluttered indignantly.

But Dennis just laughed more. “That plan B, was it Tommy?”

“You’re gonna be in alota trouble, Booker!”

“Ooh, plan C! Nice try there Tommy!”

“PLEASE!”

Silence fell as Booker stopped laughing. Poor Tom was red in the face; humiliation coursed through him and his gaze retreated to his naked thighs.

Booker finally spoke. “Ohh….I like plan D…” The rumble of that smouldering voice amidst the chill of the night air was agonising. Tom tried to block it out, focusing intently on the crook of his thigh, as if trying to pierce the baby-soft skin. “… I like plan D a lot, Tommy. You just keep on beggin like a good little bitch; you never know, I might treat ya.”

Tom’s gawping mouth snapped shut to restrain the screams and curses that threatened to leap out. He finally regained his composure. “What are you gonna do?”

Booker grinned. “Have a guess.”

Tom snarled and resumed glaring intently at his lap. He wasn’t expecting what Booker did next.

In seconds, his hair was yanked back with tremendous force, and a hand flew to his neck.

“Come on, Tommy, guess!”

Tom choked but refused to answer. However, a forceful squeeze of the tender throat made up his mind. “A-abuse me.”

“Could we be a little more specific?” A hand released his hair and slowly ghosted down to his thigh. Tom’s eyes followed it, terrified.

“R-rape…” He finally chocked out.

Booker grinned. “Wrong.”

A feeling of relief washed over Tom’s being, and he shut his eyes in silent thankfulness.

“Well,” Snapped Booker, “when I say wrong, what I really mean is…not yet. I’ve got plans for you, Tommy. Real nice ones. But first…” His lean leg hooked over Tom in an instant, as he immediately straddled the older officer, “…There is one thing…” He grabbed Tom’s hair again, forcing his head still and within reach, “…I desperately need to see to.”

Tom’s wide, horrified eyes watched Booker as he once again retrieved the glinting knife…only it was not a knife. As he twiddled the item leisurely between his fingers, the light of the moon illuminated another ‘blade’ opposite the opposite one; his perception clicked into focus as he realised the object was much smaller than he had first thought, the two slim prongs wafer thin and curling gracefully inwards at the ends. Sense struck him. It was a pair tweezers.

Hot breath engulfed his as Booker’s tyrannical countenance drew nearer, until their mouths were centimetres apart, and the tweezers hovered dangerously overhead.

“You know what I can’t stand about you Tommy…” His voice was gruff and intimate, “…You’re soo fuckin pretty. What with your little pouty lips and those big brown eyes…but you let yourself down, baby. You don’t take care of yourself…”

Tom desperately struggled and twisted his head wildly as Dennis’ huge weight overwhelmed him. Booker licked his finger seductively before pressing it to Tom’s forehead and sliding it along one of the sparse eyebrows.

“Cos you see babe, you’re a sexy little bitch. Had my eye on you the moment we met…”

At this point, he located his first target, positioned the prongs, and turned gracefully to meet with Tom’s ear. “…But how can I fuck someone who doesn’t take care of their eyebrows?”

“Booker…no…please, Dennis…don’t - ”

A deafening scream erupted from the belfry, tearing apart the silence of the night.

Not a moment before dawn did the screaming stop; and the dead below could resume their eternal sleep.