1 Name: Anonymous : 2009-08-27 11:22 [Del]
Morphine
Part 1
This wasn’t fair. Not at all. Skylar stood, leaning against the wall of some abandoned building, panting heavily and praying that they would not find him. Who exactly was looking for him, no, hunting him, he did not know, but he was aware that whatever he did, he did not want to be found.
This had to have something to do this those men. He knew he should not have taken that job they offered, but he really had no choice. He had no money, no family, and no home. No options. His eighteen years of life had not prepared him for this.
Drug running. Or something like that. It did not really matter now.
Skylar’s breath slowed slightly as he managed to calm himself just a bit. Hyperventilating would get him nowhere. He moved, and was about to peek around the corner to see if there was anyone coming, but the next thing he knew something slammed into his side and he momentarily blacked out.
When he could think again he became aware that the side of his face was pressed against the brick wall. A leather gloved hand was on the other side of his head, doing the pressing. His arms were caught between his body and the wall. He tried to see the person who had him, but he could only catch a glance of long black hair tied over one shoulder. The person leaned closer and he felt their warm breath on his neck. He shivered.
“I’ve caught you, prettyboy. No more hiding.” It was a man’s voice. If anything, it made the entire situation worse. The larger figure leaned against the boy, and he felt something hard pressing against his thigh. He half wished it was a gun, but had a feeling it was not. A hand, snaking its way under his shirt. Skylar’s breath began to come faster. He tried to form words, but the sounds escaped him.
The crunching of snow alerting him to the presence of at least one more person. He said something the boy could not hear, and then laughed. The man holding shifted his weight and replied. “No, not yet. You can put the gun away.” A thrill of fear went through the boy, and he knew the man felt it. He had not noticed exactly to what degree before that moment, but their bodies were very close.
Skylar was distracted from this, however, when the man removed his hand from under his shirt, which had been lying on his stomach harmlessly, and unsnapped the blond boy’s pants. He let out a squeak and attempted futilely to pull away.
“Nu-uh,” the man’s voice was full of amusement. “I’m going to get something out of this, even if you are a boy.” Skylar blushed automatically as a finger was hooked into the waistband of his jeans and dragged downwards. To his horror it snagged the top of his underwear and that came down too, revealing a line of smooth pale flesh. The man stopped only when Skylar’s prominent hipbone was almost fully revealed, and reached around to the other side. The boy swallowed, shaking. He knew what was going to happen. And there was no way he was going to be able to stop it.
“P-please, sir,” he managed to stutter out, glancing at the tall figure overshadowing him. The leather glove paused in action and the blond felt more than saw the gaze transfer to his face. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, what to beg for, what to offer, but he knew the lot of them were useless. Instead, he spoke words that he did not even remember thinking. “Please, not here. Not in front of…” he trailed off, looking down at the shadow of the watcher. He could not be sure, but he felt there were others there as well.
A pause. A laugh. Skylar winced at the sound, mentally cowered in fear at the man who laughed at his begging question. He closed his eyes, breath coming faster. He felt cold.
Finally, without warning, the man removed the grip on his skull, but before the boy could move he had grabbed him around the waist and hauled him over his shoulder. The blond let out a sound meaning of which he was not sure of and did not try to get released. The arm encircling his waist had a tight grip.
“I’ll be back shortly,” the man said in what was probably an amused voice. There were chuckles.
He was brought – there was absolutely no participation from him, nor any ask for it – to a dark SUV waiting at the side of the empty road. Skylar glanced up and down the street from his awkward position and saw nobody. He wondered idly if anyone would hear his screams. For he knew he would scream.
He had never been one for masturbation, but he had attempted a few times, when I particularly attractive woman or idea set him off and there was no other way of composing himself. In one particularly heated moment he had dared to push two fingers into himself – the pain that resulted took away any thoughts of completing that orgasm.
Maybe it was the speed at which they were inserted, maybe it was the lack of lubricant, but Skylar doubted either speed or lubricant would be cared about with this man. The thought made him shudder and the man made an amused sound.
The car door was opened and he was thrown unceremoniously inside, with only minor consideration made so he did not hit his head on the doorframe. He landed, sprawled on his back, his shirt riding up and his pants down so even more of his virgin body was revealed. He found the man staring at him, but not at his face, and glanced down to find in horror that his pants had gone low enough to reveal a little blond. He immediately curled up into a ball, hiding himself, face red, and the man laughed. He climbed in after the boy, and locked the doors. Child safety locks. No escape.
Skylar peeked out of his humiliated cocoon to get his first real look at the man who assaulted him. He was younger than the boy had expected, though much older than him, with smooth, attractive looks and a half smile that did not nearly reach his eyes. The man cocked his head, and he realized he had been staring. The blushing continued and he quickly looked away. A soft laugh.
There was silence for a few moments. It was freezing in the car and Skylar gave a little involuntary shiver.
“Cold are you?” The man’s unexpected voice caused the boy to start, and he blushed again at the amused smile this drew from his captor. Dammit, this was no time to be worrying about embarrassment, but he still was. But soon enough the fear would overshadow it.
“Nevermind, I’ll find out,” leather gloved hands reaching towards him, forcing the legs down and pulling up his shirt. Strange feelings as fingers encased in softer than skin gloves ran across his erect nipples. He caught his breath in his throat. There was a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. A condescending smile that said, “You like that, don’t you, faggot?” and the hands were removed.
Another moment of silence. Then, “Get only your stomach.” Skylar felt the fear grip him. Now was the moment. He obediently turned onto his stomach, the low pants revealing just the beginning of the ridge between his buttocks. He grasped the edge of the seat and closed his eyes, waiting for it to start, waiting for it to end. He would survive this. Whether he would be able to deal with it for the rest of his life was up for debate. He was already psychologically fragile from seeing enough murders to have this added on. He felt tears burning in his eyes and he ground his teeth, refusing to cry. Maybe they would just shoot him afterwards so he would not have the rest of his life to deal with it. That would be nice.
As he waited, patiently, he heard movement and risked opening his eyes. The man was leaning into the front seat. Curious but terrified, Skylar watched as he turned on the car and the heat. His body automatically relaxed as the leather seats beneath him began to warm up. Damn.
“Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, now.” The man returned to his former position, this time almost kneeling on the back of the boy’s knees. He took his sweet time removing his coat, left his shirt on, and undid his pants. Skylar watched all this over his shoulder, panic rising steadily. He had to look away, however, when he pulled the dark jeans down. The man was not wearing underwear, and the other really did not want to see.
The boy’s pants, and underwear, getting dragged down until they were in line with the other side, and both sides being brought even lower. An arm hooked around his stomach brought him so he was kneeling, practically sitting on the other’s lap. He felt the warm invasion against the very edge of his skin, threatening. And then slowly, the man, still gloved, brought his hand and laid it down and spread him, before leaning forward and penetrating the boy.
The first moment brought a gasp, the second a pained cry. Both were ignored as it was removed, nearly all of the way, then slammed forward with a great deal of force behind it. Skylar could not help it, it hurt. He cried out and grabbed the door handle, as if trying to somehow escape, trying to pull away. But the grip was firm, and he was pulled back with a laugh that was not very amused at all. “Best not to try that again. Stay still or it will only hurt more. You’re a virgin, I take it?”
A strangled noise that was sort of a yes.
The next insertion was slow but rough, as the man angled downwards to press into the sensitive flesh and stretch the tense muscle. The pain made Skylar gag.
“Good. Maybe I won’t kill you after all.”
Skylar was not sure if he prefer that right now.
If he had not been in too much pain to be nearly incoherent, the boy would have been surprised that the speed did not really matter much at all. The two things that hurt him the worst were the friction and the stretching.
He had become very aware over the last few seconds as to why the use of lubricant was so urged upon in anal sex. He supposed it was the equivalent of rug burn, stingy and itchy and generally uncomfortable, but on the mucous membrane it felt like there was sandpaper inside him. He was sure he was tearing, and vaguely hoped that the blood would smooth the penetrations.
And the stretching. Oh God, the stretching. If anyone had been caring about how to reduce the pain, including Skylar himself, who was a little distracted, they would have told him to stop tensing up his sphincters. No one did tell him, however, and he stayed tense, making it nearly impossible to avoid a great deal of pain on his part. But the clenched muscles were stretched apart by the force of the unwanted invasion, and every millimeter made Skylar almost retch, make him force himself with all his willpower not to pull away. Because the only thing worse than what was currently happening, in his mind, was what would happen to him if he tried to fight back.
As the man paused to adjust his position, Skylar took the opportunity to drag his hand to his mouth. And as soon as the push occurred, he bit down hard onto the flesh, the newfound hurt both distracting him from the pain of having his rectum torn up, and the hand muffling his screams. He tasted blood as his teeth sunk into the soft skin.
He was allowed to stay like this for a few blissful moments before the man noticed his silence and looked to see what he was doing. He grabbed the boy’s hair and yanked his head back, and Skylar released his hand to avoid further injury. He glanced down at it and saw that it was bleeding and had even puncture marks where his teeth had been.
The man did not allow him this observation for long, however, before he yanked his hair again, getting a cry out of the boy. Another forceful push collected another one. A few more and he was sobbing. His head held back at a painful angle and he could feel the blood dripping from his anus. No, it did not make the motions any smoother.
“Don’t do that,” the man said in what was quite a calm voice for the situation. “I want to hear you scream when I come.” He released his grip on the boy’s hair, who fell back to the seat, lost in hysterics. He shuddered at every movement the man made against him.
Eventually, he did come. He had managed to prolong it a lot more than he normally cared too to torment the boy, but no man is impervious to coming. This man especially was finding it harder and harder to ignore the screaming and crying boy, and how very tight he was, until at last he decided the other had had enough. Of that torture, at least.
So he released, and pulled out, causing an extra special scream as he forced the semen into the bleeding anal fissures. The boy utterly collapsed as he pulled out, the only movement from his desperate panting. His anus was red and swollen and dripping blood and other fluids. The man smiled as he looked down at his work, redoing his pants.
Skylar was a mixture of relieved and half-dead, the fear and pain having taken so much away from him. He was so out of it that his body actually relaxed when he felt the barrel of a gun press itself to the back of his head. It was finally over. Totally and completely over. He shut his eyes and waited.
And then opened them again, letting out a soft gasp, when he felt the gun leave his head and slowly drag down his back. The barrel stayed next to the skin or the cloth, tracing every minor curvature of the boy’s spine. It came to a halt, the tip resting on his tailbone. There it stayed for a few moments, as if the holder was considering something. And then it slid down into the blood-lubricated slit and pushed against his ruined entrance.
Another gasp. “N-n-no, please, no-”
And then it pushed in.
It was hard, and cold, and a strange shape. The boy’s rectal muscles were strained and sore and he cried out as the gun pushed deeper against them. He clenched, as if to push it out, but that just wracked him with pain so badly and he nearly threw up right there, on the nice leather seats. Some reasonable part of him far away wondered if the man was angry with him for getting blood all over the place.
Eventually it was as deep in his as it would get. A single further push caused another ugly scream and an automatic clenching of his stomach that caused a wave of cramps to overtake him. He said something like “Ngh…” and vomit dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
The man ignored this. His tone of voice reflected an entirely different situation. “Now, I haven’t decided whether I’ll shoot you yet. So, first, we’re going to play a bit of a game. Alright?
There was silence for a moment as Skylar, fading in and out of consciousness, wondered if he should reply. The gun was cocked and a rush of fear went through him. He wanted to be shot in the head, not like this. Maybe if, he could convince him to…
“Yes, s-sir,” he managed, before coughing up some more of his stomach contents.
“Good,” the man replied crisply. At least, the boy noticed, he doesn’t sound amused anymore.
“Tell me, if I pulled the trigger right now, not accounting for friction, what organs would I puncture? In order.”
Skylar tried to collect his thoughts but this was far to complicated a question for him right now. Terrified that he was taking too long, he forced himself to mumble out the first relevant word that came to his head. “Intestines…”
“Which one?”
This took a few moments to be comprehended by the boy. “L-large…” he said, momentarily become slightly more awake. His eyes were barely open, and images danced in front of him.
“Good. What next?”
He desperately tried to remember the little of anatomy he had learned in school. Weren’t your intestines all coiled upside you, going every which way? He took an accurate guess. “Small?”
The man laughed at his tone, knowing that he really had no idea. “What next?”
Think, think, your small intestine connected to your “Stomach?” Speaking of which, Skylar had an ache there the likes of which he had never had before.
Another ‘next?’. The blond thought vaguely that the bullet would have stopped already by then. Oh, but he said no friction. “Throat.”
“Yes. And then mouth, and then through the top of your skull.” Skylar thought maybe the game was over, but the man continued. “Although you were right with the order, the large intestine would be punctured again after the small intestine, which would be gone through several times, and the stomach would probably be gone through at least twice. It might go through the liver as well.” He noted the bleary and confused look the boy was giving him. “I used to be a surgeon,” he said casually, by way of explanation.
Oh. Great. Skylar turned his head and muffled a groan of pain into the seat.
But it was still not over. “Let’s see. How about if I tilted it like this-?” The aforementioned tilt was to the side, something the blond could not handle. He screamed and tried desperately to pull his hips away from that awful penetration, but there was suddenly an arm around his waist, grip steel. “Answer me,” the man said coolly.
“I-I- I don’t know!” was all he could say. He could not think right now.
“Then-” The gun was arced even further to the side, as much was the organ would allow, which was not a lot. “I will teach you.” He pulled up the other’s shirt and tapped lightly on the back of his ribs. “You know what are here?”
“No…” he whimpered, clutching the seat.
“Your kidneys. If I aimed like this –” tilted a little upwards this time, caused another scream-gag-cry. “I would hit one. A little lower and I’d hit your liver which is –” another aiming, though this one not quite as bad. “Here. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Barely a whisper.
Silence for a moment. “I think you’ve had enough for today.” And the quick, painful removal of the gun. Glancing over his shoulder in wonderment, Skylar saw a cloth produced to wipe the blood, semen and interstitial fluid off the barrel. It was then used to clean off the seat, before being shoved back into a pocket. He holstered the gun and brought underwear and pants back up on the boy, who swayed slightly in a semblance of cooperation. He was then scooped up into the man’s arms, and he opened the car door.
He must have called to his buddies, as the other men began to walk over and get in vehicle, but Skylar was too wrapped up in staring in horror up at the man who held him, the man who had just raped him with a gun and himself.
He stared screaming and thrashing, careful not to touch the other but desperate to get out of his grip. The grip only tightened, though, and he found his arms and legs trapped against the warm, awful body of the other. “Stop it, please, stop…” he was sobbing.
Without speaking, arms both somewhat occupied, the man somehow clambered into the passenger seat and closed the door. Skylar lay on his lap, positioned so his feet were up against the window, head lying on the armrest. He continued to struggle, desperate to get away from that man.
“Here, give me some morphine.” He heard, a million miles away.
“Why? You gonna waste it on that kid?”
A bit of arguing before a syringe full of clear liquid was handed to the man. Skylar stared at the needle, eyes wide, fear evident.
Perhaps it was stupid for him to still have his old phobias after such an assault on him, but he was terrified of needles. He began to thrash more, hitting the windows with his shoes, but the man leaned on him with his elbows, and drove them into his stomach and crotch. The sudden pain made the boy freeze, and the other took advantage of that.
The hair band keeping his over the shoulder braid in place was removed, and snapped onto the boy’s lower arm. This arm was pulled away from him, palm forced flat, and as soon as a vein began to make itself known on the compressed flesh, the needle was jabbed into it, the syringe evenly emptied as Skylar stared in horror at the long silver thing sticking out of him, too scared to move.
The syringe was empty, the needle pulled out with a minor sting. The elastic pulled off his arm. The blond continued to stare at his arm, this time in confusion, as if he did not understand what was happening. The morphine took a few seconds to hit him.
When it did, it was like nothing that had ever happened. It was cool, somehow, inside of him, like his insides had been dipped in aloe. His pain faded into a buzzing sensation. Suddenly everything was somewhat okay, and if it wasn’t, it did not have to be dealt with right now. Skylar watched, only a minor thrill of fear going through him, as another half-full syringe was emptied into the same vein.
He had never done drugs, although he knew something about them, and he wondered why morphine was not more popular. Or maybe all drugs were this way.
He spent the ride to wherever they were going half asleep, head nestled in the crook of the man’s arm. After a while he began to come back to reality, but the other spotted it, smiled, and administered another dose of the delicious drug.
When they arrived at their destination, Skylar was very drowsy and did not really pay attention when he was brought into a building and carried down a flight of stairs. It smelled like candy. Or maybe he was just imagining it.
The man exchanged words with someone he did not bother to look at, and he was just held and rocked for a few moments before being brought into what looked like a bedroom. He was lain face down on a sheet on the bed. It crinkled as if there was a tarp under it. In retrospect, Skylar guessed that there probably was.
He did not start getting worried until the man gently took his arms and outstretched them, before handcuffing him to the bed. At this point, however, he began to get very, very, worried. He tried to pull away and cry out, but was soothed with murmured calming words and another dose of morphine. Had he still been coherent, he would have realized that he was getting a lot more morphine than recommended.
He also would have taken note of the fact that after his pants and underwear were completely removed, an inauspicious fact in itself, and his legs were strapped down, the straps went over his calves, not his ankles, like one would expect. He would find out the reason for this very soon however.
The man disappeared for a few moments before Skylar felt the weight shift on the bed. Someone was sitting behind him, between his legs. He had the decency to blush at what was getting revealed to him.
“You’ve been good so far,” the man began, and the other got a sinking feeling that this was not going to end well. “But you should not have run away from me in the first place. I spent a lot of time and effort finding you.”
There were some sounds the boy did not understand, and then the feeling of something, cold, sharp, against the back of his ankle. His eyes widened and he gasped just before the blade sunk in.
When it did, he found out very well what the tight fetters were for. He strained against them, desperately pulling away from the man, from the blade, from the pain, but it was futile. He felt as what must have been a scalpel cut a little deeper and it felt like something snapped inside his leg. He let out a strangled cry.
The reversing of blade was almost as bad as it was going in. Once it was out, however, Skylar collapsed downwards, the morphine almost useless against the pain in his ankle. What the hell had he done?
Then something else sharp poked into his skin, next to the wound, and he tensed, preparing for another slash. But it was a point, not a blade, and it did not sink in very far, and then turned and got pushed out of the skin. It took a few moments of him panting and begging incomprehensibly and choking to realize it was a needle. His wound was being stitched up.
The stitches took what felt like years, but they distracted him from the continuing pain from the wound, so he was grateful. He tensed at every intrusion of the needle, bit his lip as it went through and winced as the thread, or whatever was used for stitches, got pulled after it.
It was finally over and he felt the gaze being carefully laid down, the bandage wrapped around it. Oh, God, it was over.
“One more.”
His eyes widened immediately and he felt his stomach plunge. He knew he should have guessed that it would happen to both legs, whatever was going on, but he didn’t. He felt tears form, now that he thought he had run out. All this for running away? He thought he already got his punishment with the rape. Why couldn’t they have just killed him?
The second one was the same, and yet at the same time worse. Skylar did not know why, but somehow the part he feared most was the odd snapping sensation in his leg. He spent the stitching clutching the sheets and whatever was under it, teeth clenched, ever muscle in his body tense. He knew it was not helping at all, but that was all he could do.
It was over. Sweat stuck his blond bangs to his forehead, and he was on the verge of passing out when he felt the last pull of the needle. It was bandaged. The man stood up once more and came back with another syringe.
Skylar marveled at the fact that he was almost welcoming of the needle now, when what could not have been more than a few hours ago he had been screaming at the sight of it. This time when the elastic was taken off his arm, the man slid it onto his wrist and shook out his long hair. It was wavy from being braided.
He smiled down at the semi-conscious boy and gently rubbed his side. “You’ve been so good,” he said quietly. He leaned over and placed his mouth by the other’s ear. “This last one is the hardest, but you will get more morphine when it’s over.”
The boy, who had been almost drowsing, became suddenly awake at this. Another one?
Again?
He felt like little pieces of him were being stolen with each false hope crushed.
But he did say last one. This gave Skylar the semblance of something to look forward to, to cling onto while he lay there and screamed in his head.
Of course, he had no idea what was going to happen.
The man got on the bed in the same place. The other glanced over his shoulder and found that he was kneeling, facing the exposed boy’s genitals. He somehow found it in him to blush.
He watched as the man took the elastic off his wrist, felt as he picked up his scrotum gently in one hand, and winced as he looped it around the base, and wound it around, one, two, three times. He adjusted it slightly so it was the very closest it could be the body. Skylar saw him pick up the scalpel and their eyes met. The boy could not read anything in the man’s face.
He had the thought ‘Oh my God, he’s going to cut it off’.
And then he did.
The actual removal of the tissue did not take very long, but the other was too focused on the pain to realize. It was deposited in a bio-hazard bag to be disposed of properly later, and the man went to work suturing the blood vessels and whatnot.
Skylar was not aware of what he did, only that there was a pain in his genitals, dulled slightly by the morphine. It was more shock of what was happening than pain that caused him to remain tense, keep sobbing and crying out.
He was very, very close to passing out when the man put the stitches in. His limp body shuddered at every piercing of the flesh, every drag of the thread. Gauze and bandages were put on.
It was over. Maybe. Finally over.
For today.
He was unshackled, given another dose of morphine. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the man pulling off his latex gloves.
And he finally fainted into the soft, drug induced coma of sleep.
