‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
33
Taylor waited until he was sure the convulsing had stopped before he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again he saw Nate standing over him, fingers poised over the trigger.
“Not a lot of fight left in you, is there?” he tilted his head, “you’re coming along well then.”
Taylor held back the urge to scream at him, knowing another shock was going to come his way regardless. A moment later, it hit him. He barely made out Nate’s laugh through the pain.
As he bent down to remove the pins, Taylor tried to catch his breath again. Once they were gone his hands flew to his chest and he rolled onto his side and coughed.
“So how’s your training coming along then?” Nate asked as he walked back to the table, as if he expected Taylor to answer him straight away.
Taylor barely managed to look up in his direction, still shaking slightly as the electricity slowly dissipated from his system.
“Haven’t learnt to answer immediately yet, I see…”
Taylor opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead he grunted as he struggled to turn over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees.
“Stay down,” Nate instructed, sinking a foot into Taylor’s back and forcing him down onto his stomach.
His arms awkwardly stretched out in front, the cuffs holding his wrists tight. Keeping his foot in place Nate reached down and grabbed the back of Taylor’s collar. Taylor immediately scrambled to try and reach the front of it to pull it back down as he choked.
“I’m pretty sure you’re aware that if I wanted to ‘hurt’ Isaac, there’d be nothing you could do to stop me,” Nate’s words cut into him like a knife, “same goes for your younger brother, of course. I’m surprised he’s still alive today as it is.”
He finally let the collar go and Taylor fell flat again as he tried to catch his breath. When Nate finally removed his foot he began crawling forward in an effort to get away. When he heard Nate return to the table he picked up speed and picked himself up so that he was sitting back against a wall. His eyes locked onto Nate again as he continued to cough.
“But I guess hope is about all you have left now, isn’t it?” Nate smirked.
“It’s something they’ll never take away,” Taylor couldn’t help himself, but his voice was distant.
“We’ll soon see about that,” Nate said absently, making Taylor only slightly relieved that he didn’t seem phased by him talking back.
He watched as Nate rummaged through the box, the metallic clinks only adding to his nerves. What he pulled out next made Taylor shiver, and even mildly relieved when the door opened again. He looked up to see the master return to the room.
“Any problems?” he directed his question to Nate.
“Just vocally,” Nate held up the lockable ball gag, “maybe we should demonstrate how easy it really is to stay silent for a generous amount of time?”
Taylor’s eyes darted between them.
“I don’t see why not,” the master said casually before directing his next statement at Taylor, “here.”
Taylor looked to where he’d pointed, back in his usual kneeling spot. Taylor glanced at Nate as he worked himself up to complying, before whispering a quiet prayer to himself and crawling over to it.
Once he was there Nate grabbed his hair as the master fitted the gag as comfortably as he could.
“Good boy,” he gave him a derogatory pat on the head as he stood again.
“Not a lot of fight left in you, is there?” he tilted his head, “you’re coming along well then.”
Taylor held back the urge to scream at him, knowing another shock was going to come his way regardless. A moment later, it hit him. He barely made out Nate’s laugh through the pain.
As he bent down to remove the pins, Taylor tried to catch his breath again. Once they were gone his hands flew to his chest and he rolled onto his side and coughed.
“So how’s your training coming along then?” Nate asked as he walked back to the table, as if he expected Taylor to answer him straight away.
Taylor barely managed to look up in his direction, still shaking slightly as the electricity slowly dissipated from his system.
“Haven’t learnt to answer immediately yet, I see…”
Taylor opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead he grunted as he struggled to turn over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees.
“Stay down,” Nate instructed, sinking a foot into Taylor’s back and forcing him down onto his stomach.
His arms awkwardly stretched out in front, the cuffs holding his wrists tight. Keeping his foot in place Nate reached down and grabbed the back of Taylor’s collar. Taylor immediately scrambled to try and reach the front of it to pull it back down as he choked.
“I’m pretty sure you’re aware that if I wanted to ‘hurt’ Isaac, there’d be nothing you could do to stop me,” Nate’s words cut into him like a knife, “same goes for your younger brother, of course. I’m surprised he’s still alive today as it is.”
He finally let the collar go and Taylor fell flat again as he tried to catch his breath. When Nate finally removed his foot he began crawling forward in an effort to get away. When he heard Nate return to the table he picked up speed and picked himself up so that he was sitting back against a wall. His eyes locked onto Nate again as he continued to cough.
“But I guess hope is about all you have left now, isn’t it?” Nate smirked.
“It’s something they’ll never take away,” Taylor couldn’t help himself, but his voice was distant.
“We’ll soon see about that,” Nate said absently, making Taylor only slightly relieved that he didn’t seem phased by him talking back.
He watched as Nate rummaged through the box, the metallic clinks only adding to his nerves. What he pulled out next made Taylor shiver, and even mildly relieved when the door opened again. He looked up to see the master return to the room.
“Any problems?” he directed his question to Nate.
“Just vocally,” Nate held up the lockable ball gag, “maybe we should demonstrate how easy it really is to stay silent for a generous amount of time?”
Taylor’s eyes darted between them.
“I don’t see why not,” the master said casually before directing his next statement at Taylor, “here.”
Taylor looked to where he’d pointed, back in his usual kneeling spot. Taylor glanced at Nate as he worked himself up to complying, before whispering a quiet prayer to himself and crawling over to it.
Once he was there Nate grabbed his hair as the master fitted the gag as comfortably as he could.
“Good boy,” he gave him a derogatory pat on the head as he stood again.