Paul stood outside the door of Richard's room and listened to the rhythmic beeps from inside.  Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  Beepbeep.  He took a deep drag of his cigarette and the beeping started again.  Mitch was trying to figure out the alarm code and from the sound of it he was only changing one number each time.  Clever Mitch.  Not that it would do him any good, Richard changed the codes every other week when he had a boy in his room.  The odds that Mitch would come across the correct one before Richard changed it were slim to impossible, not that he was going to tell Mitch that.  The poor kid needed some kind of hope.

He silently dropped the stump of his fag and pulled out another one, lighting it and taking a deep drag.  God, this was harder than it should be.  He looked forward to going into the room almost as much as he dreaded it.  He'd never looked forward to seeing any of Richard's other boys.  In fact, he generally stayed the hell away from Richard's home while they were there.  But then, most of them had acclimatized to their situation quickly and Paul had preferred the illusion that they wanted to be there to the reality that he saw when he was alone with them.

Duncan wrapped his arm around Richard's neck, smiling up at him with heartbreaking ease.  "You'll come home soon, then?  I get lonely without you."

Richard smiled back and ran a hand through the messy brown hair, pulling the head back slightly to gaze down into the pale blue eyes.  "Of course you get lonely.  Now watch television and I'll bring you back something nice."  Without letting go of the young man's head, he turned to Paul, who was sitting, uninterested at his computer desk.  "Keep a close eye on him, Paul."

Duncan pouted prettily as Richard left, clasping his hands behind his back the moment his arms were free and watching the door close.  Paul leaned back in the chair and watched, half interested, half annoyed, as Duncan's pout melted off his face the moment the lock clicked, leaving him looking vacant.  He didn't unclasp his hands, he didn't sit down, he didn't move at all.  He just stared at the door.  It was... disconcerting.

The first day that Paul had seen Duncan after his capture, the boy had rushed the door the moment it opened and Richard had had to physically drag the struggling boy out of the way so Paul could shut and lock the door.  The second time he had seen him, the boy had been sitting on the bed, huddled in blankets, staring at the television in morose silence.  He hadn't even responded when asked if he wanted food. 

After only two weeks, however, Paul had seen a remarkable change.  He'd walked in with Richard and Duncan had practically bowled them over in his eagerness to get to Richard, kissing and fawning over him enthusiastically.  He'd smiled and asked what presents Richard had brought for him.  He'd blushed when Richard had complimented him, biting his lip and playing coy when Richard implied sex.  He'd even teased Richard a little, brushing his hand against the tops of Richard's thighs while they were sitting on the bed together.

Now... Paul stared openly at the young man standing in the middle of the room, his face and body language betraying no more emotion than a teaspoon.  "Duncan?"

The boy looked over, startled from his thoughts, but he didn't smile, he didn't speak, just walked over to the bed and sat down, picking up the remote without turning the television on.  Paul shrugged and started to turn away.

"You're Paul, right?"

He stopped and looked back, but Duncan was still staring forward, unblinking.  After a moment, he nodded, "Yeah, I'm Paul."

"If I..."  Duncan bit his lip, but didn't look over, "If I asked you to let me go, would you?"

It seemed strange to reconcile this creature with the boy who had, for the past few weeks, been nothing but happy.  It was odd, disconcerting and Paul really wasn't sure what to make of it.  "No."

Duncan let his lip go, "Thought so," and he'd turned on the television with a sigh, laying his head on his knees.

It wasn't until the day that Richard told Duncan he was going home that Paul realized exactly how much of an act the entire two months had been.  Duncan's face had literally lit up and he'd smiled and kept asking Richard if he meant it over and over, even when it looked like Richard was getting annoyed with him.  As he'd gathered the things Richard told him to, his step had been lighter, he'd actually giggled a few times, quite unlike the seductive little nymph that Paul had seen only a few times over the last few weeks.

The others had gone much the same way.  With each boy it had become harder for Paul to ignore the fact that they didn't want to be there and that what they were doing was wrong, but Richard was right about a lot of things.  They were all cock hungry sluts that had been picked up at bars like Humps, when they were too drunk and high to know what they were doing.  They were also all adults, capable to making their own decisions and if they had fallen pray so easily, then maybe they really were getting what they deserved.  At the very least, Richard was not overly mean to them - he treated them well enough, fed them, clothed them, bought them things, and he never hurt them.  They all went home eventually, having learned a very valuable lesson about accepting drinks with strangers.

It could be worse.  Richard could beat them, he could starve them, he could force them to run around the room naked, he could lock the television so they couldn't watch anything; hell, he could lock them in his closet and only take them out when he wanted them.  It could be worse.

Beep. Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  Beepbeep.

It had gotten worse, though.  Mitch was the first one that Richard had actually physically hit and Paul still wasn't sure what had changed.  Maybe it was that Mitch had lied to him and Richard was still angry about that.  Maybe Richard had changed.  It didn't matter, though, because he'd still let Mitch go.  He'd still take the kid home, a little worse for the wear, and Mitch would probably never slut himself out again.  He thought briefly about the night of the party and the sounds of Mitch's pleas for them to stop.  Come to that, the kid may never have sex at all ever again.

He took another deep breath and dropped the cigarette, stomping it out and fishing for his keys, making as much noise as possible.  There was a good amount of scrambling and then the sound of the television coming on, very loudly at first before the volume was turned down.  He allowed himself a moment to chuckle silently before opening the door and stepping inside.

"Morning, Mitch!"

He stopped and had to force himself to close and lock the door.  Mitch was sitting on the floor in front of the bed, his face completely white and his hands shaking around the remote.  What gave Paul pause, however, was not the fear, because he had expected that, but the angry purple and green bruise that marred his jaw line.  "Mitch?"

The boy looked down, pulling his legs tighter against his chest defensively.  Paul walked over, ignoring the obvious flinch.  "Hey, look at me."

After a moment, Mitch turned his face up a little, his eyes were impossibly wide and Paul knew what he was afraid of, as much as it pained him to admit it.  Mitch was afraid of punishment. "I'm not mad at you, Mitch, okay?  What did Richard hit you for?"

Please say he'd tried to escape.  If Richard had hit Mitch in an attempt to get out the door, then maybe it had been a matter of self defense, in a way, but... he looked at the bruise again and felt an ache in his chest.  No, no matter what Mitch had done, he was still a fifteen-year-old boy.  Unlike the other whores that Richard dragged up here, Mitch didn't know what he was doing or how to handle it.  "Never mind.  It doesn't matter."

Mitch's eyes reflected hurt and Paul put a hand on his head.  "There's no excuse for hitting you.  I'll have a talk with him."

Mitch sagged against the bed.  Paul wasn't mad at him.  Paul didn't know that he'd been trying to figure out the alarm.  Paul would talk to Richard about hitting him.  Not that it would do any good.  In the short three weeks that he'd been there, it had become painfully clear that, despite what he may think, Paul knew nothing about Richard.  Although, maybe it would help, at least a little, because Richard apparently cared what Paul thought.

He sighed and looked at the Tivo control in his hand.  He had to get out of here.  He couldn't just sit here and do nothing all day.  The school books helped, but he felt perpetually dirty because Richard wouldn't let him get out of the pyjamas and no amount of showering made him feel clean.

Paul sat down besides him and put an arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer and a hand lazily rested on top of his head.  The warmth felt nice, it felt like caring.  "Paul?"

"Hm."

"Who's Wayne Guider?"

The hand on his head stopped stroking for a second and Mitch felt himself pushed back, Paul's eyes taking in his expression carefully.  "Where did you hear that name?"

He shrugged, but something in Paul's eyes told him that lying was out of the question.  "I saw it, on a letter from England Revenue that Richard brought home the other day."

Paul's mouth formed an 'oh'. "That's why he hit you, isn't it?  You said something about the letter and he got upset."

It wasn't a question, so Mitch didn't bother answering it.

With a sigh, Paul leaned back against the bed again.  "Wayne Richard Guider.  His mother's maiden name is Carter.  Richard Carter is his stage name."

Mitch wondered why he'd never thought of that before.  Actors always had stage names.  Why wouldn't the famous Richard Carter have one too?  But Wayne?  The name didn't fit him somehow.  "Really?"

"Yes.  My real name is Paul Hubert Gerring.  I refused to use Hubert, but Zalinsky was my grandmother's surname and Richard liked it, he said it made me sound cultured."

"Wayne."  He thought of Richard with his roughed good looks.  "He doesn't look like a Wayne really."

Paul shook his head, "No, never has.  He was already calling himself Richard in first year."

Mitch looked down at the remote, rubbing his thumb across the 'live TV' button without pushing it.   "You don't really look like a Zalinsky, either.  Your hair's blonde."

With a chuckle, Paul reached over the bed to the fridge at the end and pulled out a soda, offering one to Mitch.  "My grandmother hates it.  My entire family has brown hair except for me and she keeps accusing me of dying it."

"Do you?"

"Nope."  Paul took a long drink.  "It was darker when I was young, but it lightened up around third year.  Richard likes it."

Mitch forced himself to swallow past the stone in the throat.  That last thing Paul had said, that was the crux of his problem.  Paul seemed to lean very heavily on Richard for everything, but what Mitch wanted to know was, how heavily, because it seemed to him that Paul liked him and maybe he could use that to get the man to help him.  Only, if Paul really did only do what Richard told him to, then there was no point in getting his hopes up.

"Do you... do you like that name?  Zalinsky, I mean."

Paul shrugged, "I don't know.  I never really fancied becoming an actor, to be honest.  I always wanted to be a doctor, like my father, but Richard just has a way of getting people to do what he wants.  I was applying for med-school and Richard came to me and said he wanted me to be in one of his movies.  Eventually, I agreed and the next thing I knew I had a stage name, I was in the tabloids and I had agents and lawyers and god knows what else.  It all happened very quickly."

He leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner.  "To tell you the truth, I was a little scared at first.  Richard's always been good with people - he loves being in the spotlight.  I'm just the opposite, I'd be perfectly happy sitting in a dark corner, being ignored by the rest of the world."

"You could."  Mitch nearly bit his tongue.  "I mean... well, you have a lot of money now, so if you wanted to go away and hide from everyone, you could."

Paul's eyes glazed over in thought for a moment before he nodded, slowly.  "Yeah, I suppose I could."  He shook his head.  "That=s enough serious talk for one day, I think.  What do you want to watch?"

Mitch dropped the subject, because it was obvious that Paul wanted to.  Besides, he'd gotten his answer.  Paul was a nice guy, but he was completely under Richard's thumb.  He didn't even really think for himself anymore, so there was no use in hoping he would defy Richard and set Mitch free.  However, having Paul around was nice and Mitch would much rather keep him as a friend than annoy him until he went away.

"I still haven't started the second season of Dead Like Me."

"Brilliant."  Paul ruffled his hair as he stood up and went to put the disc in and Mitch tried very hard to be annoyed with him.  It was really hard to be annoyed, though, when Paul smiled at him like that.  Oh well, he'd try later.

*****

It had taken almost another two weeks to get her hands on it, but now that she had it, Cynthia wasn't sure what to do with it.  She held the thick, plastic card and examined it.  Cynthia Redding, age 18.  It looked so authentic, she could go anywhere with this, but how was she going to get there?  Mitch had snuck out the window and used the bus, but then his parents hadn't had an alarm on their house.  She couldn't open her window without setting off sirens in every room of the house and bringing the police down on them.

The police.  She scoffed.  They hadn't found anything new in weeks, not since they'd run into a dead end at Humps.  The bar tender reported that Mitch had drunk a lot, though he couldn't really remember how much, he'd seen him on the dance floor for a minute and then nothing for the rest of the evening.  Mr. Dearing thought Mitch might have gone to a different bar, but so far no one had reported seeing him anywhere else and the precious few leads they had gotten had dried up.

She turned the ID over in her hand while she contemplated what she was about to do.  Cynthia didn't want to.  She wanted to stay right there in Hatfield, so that when Mitch got home she could hug him and listen to him vent about everything that had happened, but there was just no way she was going to be able to sneak out of her mother's house.  She slid the card into her purse and shoved the black bag under her bed before standing up and walking to the kitchen.

Her mother had just gotten home and was cutting onions to cook dinner.  It had been the only positive thing to come out of this whole affair.  Her mother, having realized how easily it could have been her own recalcitrant daughter who had snuck out and disappeared, had begun to make a real effort to be a mother.  She'd started cooking dinner, although she burned half of everything, if she had work to do after hours, she brought it home, she'd even offered to help Cynthia with her homework.  It was just another reason for Cynthia to hate what she was about to do.

"Mum?"

Her mother looked up and Cynthia winched as she saw the knife nearly cut off a finger.  "Yes, dear?"

"I was thinking," she shoved her hands in her pockets and clenched her fists.  This was for Mitch, she could do this for Mitch.  "I want to go stay with dad for a while."

Putting down the knife abruptly, her mother grabbed a clothe and wiped her hands.  "Why?"

"I just can't take it anymore.  It's been a month and... and nothing.  Everywhere I go in school and at home, it all reminds me of Mitch.  I need... a little time, maybe?  It's hard to think he's not here and he might never be here again.  It'll be easier at dad's," she gulped at the flash of pain that crossed her mother's face, "there isn't as much there that reminds me of Mitch.  I..."

Her mother sighed, "Of course, I'm sorry.  I've been smothering you and..."

"That's not it!"  She stepped forward and then thought better of it, stepping back again.  "I really, really like what's been going on here.  I like having you home.  I like eating dinner with you.  I just... I really can't take Mitch being missing and everything.  The kids at school all stare at me, but they never say anything.  I don't feel right talking to the Dearings, not after I lied to them and it isn't getting easier.  I... please?  Just for a month?  Maybe two?  Just until I can get my head straight."

Reluctantly, her mother nodded, "I'll call your father tomorrow and we'll get things settled."

Cynthia forced herself not to sigh in relief.  She'd been so afraid that nothing she'd say was going to make a difference, but it had.  She was going to London to stay with her father and she'd be able to sneak out and go to the clubs and... well, she didn't know what she was going to do after that, but she'd figure that out when she got there.  "Thank you, mum."

She turned around, not wanting to see the hurt reflected in her mother's face again.  She had to do this.  In a few months she'd come home, maybe with Mitch, maybe not, but at least she'd have tried.  Maybe... maybe if she found him, the Dearings would understand how sorry she was that she'd lied.

*****

 

Tanner was a sadomasochistic, drama queen with a bad-boy attitude and a fetish for saying no in the crudest ways possible.  He wasn't all that tall, though he did stand a good few inches above Mitch.  He was, however, spindly thin and ridiculously flexible.  Not to say he went around the room stretching obscenely, but it was in the way he moved on and off the bed and the way he bent his thin legs around his boyfriend, Jessie, or Paul when the man let him.

Jessie was the polar opposite.  He was tall, taller than Richard by at least two inches and he was built like a body builder.  He had brown hair, buzzed close to his head and murky brown eyes that penetrated when they stared.  Most importantly, however, he was sadistic in a cold, calculating kind of way that made Mitch prefer good-old, insane Tanner.

When Jessie had walked into the room that first time, he had been wearing a pair of jeans and a button down shirt that stretched over his arms.  He had seen Mitch and he=d smiled, "Richard, mate, please explain to me why I'm not surprised."

That was Mitch's first impression and everything that had followed had been like a downhill battle.  The party had gone much like the other one.  They'd played video games, drank various forms of alcohol, ate pizza and talked.  Jessie had a job handling accounts out of the country, though Mitch couldn't really discern anything beyond that, and was often gone for weeks on end.  When they'd gotten bored of the games, Richard had brought out the pills.

Mitch had fought it this time.  He really had.  He'd bitten Richard and he'd kicked Jessie so hard in the ribs, he thought he might have cracked them, but it didn't do any good, they just chuckled at him, forced it past his lips and then Richard had held a hand over his mouth until it had dissolved into powder on his numbing tongue.  Then they had fucked him.

To be honest, Mitch couldn't even remember the order.  He knew that Richard fucked him first, shoving his face in a pillow and slamming into him so hard that not even the drugs could make it pleasurable.  He knew that Louis and Mickey had gone at him together, one at each end and that Richard had told them they couldn't do double penetration anymore.  He knew Tanner had fucked Paul again and that Paul had, at some point fucked him, Richard whispering to Paul the whole time, telling him how good it was and how much he loved to watch it.

Most of all, though, he remembered Jessie.  Jessie liked pain.  Jessie liked to bite his nipple until it bled and laugh at his pathetic attempts to scoot away.  Jessie liked toys.  Until that night, Mitch had only seen butt plugs in the rare porn he'd occasionally smuggled home.  But these weren't the small little black rubber things he'd seen in videos, these were huge and one or two of them had strange nubs on it that made it feel like something alien was inside him.  It didn't help that whatever they'd made him take made his skin feel five times too sensitive.  He also remembered that Jessie had leaned over him and promised that this was only the beginning, that Richard said he had to be gentle, but that he couldn't wait until he had free reign to do whatever he wanted.

When Mitch had woken up the next morning, sore and aching, it had been that memory that drove him to the bathroom to toss up the pizza and soda lingering in his stomach.  Richard hadn't said anything about it, though.  He had gotten up and stood in the doorway, leering at him in disgust as he panted over the porcelain bowl.  After he was sure Mitch was done, he'd told him to take a shower and had gone back into the room to clean up the mess left by his friends.

Mitch didn't move for several minutes, still afraid that the fear gripping his stomach would make him sick again.  This was hell.  Absolute hell.  He couldn't take another two months of this, nobody could; but they had, hadn't they?  Seven other boys had been in this exact position and they had held themselves together long enough to get home.

Pushing himself up, he stumbled to the shower and turned it on, sitting on the floor under the cold spray, waiting for it to warm up.  He wasn't bleeding as badly this time.  Hardly at all, actually.  If Richard held off on him, he'd be fine by the end of the day.  Well, not fine, he'd still be sore, but he could handle sore, it was the tearing and ripping that made him weak in the knees that he couldn't handle.  Of course, there was no guarantee that Richard would lay off him, but maybe... maybe if it seemed like he wanted to, Mitch could offer him something else.  He could give him a hand-job, or he could... he could give him a blow-job, even, he'd do it without threats and he'd try, he=d really try.

He grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some out onto his hand, lathering his hair and dragging his nails over his scalp in an effort to really clean it.  He could do this.  He could do this.  He could do this.

 

*****

 

Richard stood outside the bathroom, listening to the sounds coming from the shower – the splashing of the water against the tile; the thumping of bottles being picked up and put down; the occasional sob that broke through when the kid couldn't hold it back any longer.  It was amazing how not a single one of his boys had reacted the same way to the parties.  Gregory had thrown violent temper tantrums, hitting and breaking things.  Duncan had gone into shocked silence.  Derrick had flinched at every touch for two days.  Mitchell tried to pretend he could handle it, but kept breaking down anyway.

It was so... interesting.  He wondered how long it would take to break the little brat completely.  Another few weeks at least.  Most of the boys gave up in a matter of days.  Realizing that they couldn't get out and knowing what he wanted, they capitulated, playing the part of willing lover to keep him happy and themselves alive.  However, his boys had always been little sluts, whores.  They really had been fucked so many times that they probably weren't all that phased by another cock, another trick.  Mitchell was a virgin.  Using his body to get what he wanted wasn't something he was used to.

"Shut up and pick up!"

Richard looked at his phone, raising his eyebrow.

"Shut up and pick up!"

Hm, Jessie usually didn't call this early in the morning, especially not the night after a party.

"Shut up and..."

"Jessie, to what do I owe this egregiously early pleasure?"

Jessie chuckled on the other end, "Ten o'clock is hardly egregiously early, but I just wanted to check up on you, make sure everything was in order."

"Everything's fine, just like it always is."  Richard sat on the edge of his desk, eyeing the door to the bathroom.  "What are you really calling for?"

"You know me too well.  I was just wondering what your plans were for the kid."

Richard chuckled, "I'm going to take him home, Jessie, same as the others."

The sound of a lighter flicking on the other end made him raise an eyebrow.  Jessie was a chain smoker, but he usually didn't do it on the phone.  "What about Paul?"

"What about Paul?"  The shower turned off and he stood up, stepping out the front door and closing it.  The kid didn't need to hear this conversation.

"You know 'what about Paul.'  I was doped out of my mind last night and even I could tell that he's getting attached to the kid."

"Paul's my business, Jessie.  I'll handle him when and how I want to.  If he gets too attached, I'll deal with it, same as I always do."

There was silence, then,  "Yeah, same as you've been doing since grade school, right?"

He crooked a smile, "Right.  Hey, Jessie, I was thinking that maybe Wednesday you and Tanner could come over for a little fun.  Maybe bring the kit."

"The kit?  What are you thinking?"

"Something in green, to bring out the kid's eyes."

Jessie coughed on a chuckle.  "Yeah, whatever.  See you Wednesday."

"Bye, Jessie."

He hung up the phone and looked back at his door thoughtfully.  Yes, something green.

 

*****

 

Richard hadn't touched him in three days.  He hadn't done anything to him at all except stare at him, which was creepy, but at least he wasn't being used.  Not that he expected this reprieve to last.  In those three days, Paul had only come by once and that had been a very brief visit, to make sure that he was doing okay and that he wasn't bleeding or anymore bruised than he had been before.  He wasn't.

"He=s out with Claudia, showing her a good time and all that." 

That was what Richard was said.  Claudia was a girl that Paul was apparently dating and Mitch didn't know why that bothered him so much except that he kept seeing Paul=s face, sometimes smiling at him when they watched movies, sometimes gazing down at him in lust, and other times, downcast and resigned to whatever Richard told him.  Somehow, he couldn't reconcile that person with anyone who would go out and date a girl, much less one named Claudia.

Richard had said it was healthy, which meant it would take Paul's mind off Mitch and that had hurt, because it was true.  Why worry about the dark little secret, locked in a room of eternal hell when there was a bright eyed girl that he could take everywhere and show off to anyone?  It made him realize, not for the first time, the absolute hopelessness of his situation.  He could fantasize about Paul coming to his senses and rescuing him all he wanted, but the odds of that happening were higher than he could count.

Still, not even resignation could have prepared him for what happened when Richard finally did touch him.  Richard had been gone all day, out with Tanner and Jessie, or that was what he'd said and Mitch had been stuck in the room watching television and occasionally trying to figure out the code on the door.  He hadn't had much time for that lately, as Richard was almost always there.

He'd been watching the news when the door unlocked.  He quickly changed it to Cartoon Network and cringed as program was Pokemon.  Richard looked at the screen and raised one eyebrow before shrugging.  He had to know that wasn't what Mitch was watching, but apparently he wasn't in the mood to argue about it.  Tanner came in holding a satchel over his shoulder, eyeing Mitch hungrily and Jessie stood behind him, with an equally disturbing, pleased look on his face.

Richard sat on the bed behind him, spreading his legs to straddle either side of Mitch's shoulders.  AHey, Mitchell-dear, we brought you a present."  Mitch didn't look back until his face was grabbed and forced around.  "Don't you want to know what it is?"  When he didn't respond, Richard shrugged again and let go of his jaw.  "Well, then, I suppose it'll have to be a surprise."

Without warning, he moved his legs, putting them over Mitch's shoulders and wedging them between his arms and body, pinning Mitch with his back against the bed.  Instinctively, Mitch struggled.  He didn't know what it was they were planning, but with Jessie and Tanner there, it couldn't be good.

I can't wait till Richard let's me really play with you, little boy.  I'm going to make you hurt so pretty.

Jessie moved forward and Mitch braced himself to kick, but the larger man was ready and this time he wasn't impeded by drugs.  He caught Mitch's feet and forced his legs straight, sitting on them just bellow his knees.  Mitch gave a wordless cry as he realized that with his legs and back forced straight that this, he could hardly move.  Of course, that was probably the point.

Tanner sat down next to him, unzipping the bag, and looked up at Richard.  "It'll go easier if he can't see."

Mitch tried to move his head away when he saw Richard reaching for him, but there really wasn't anywhere he could go that Richard couldn't follow.  One hand latched onto his forehead, the other under his chin and Richard forced his head back and between his legs, so that the only thing Mitch could see was Richard's face and the ceiling.  "Be good, Mitchell-dear, and this'll be over in no time."

"Richard..."

"Shhh."  Richard smiled down at him and his chest tightened in fear as he heard the crinkle of a plastic bag opening and Tanner rummaging for something inside it.

"What..."  But Richard wouldn't tell him 'what', not if his sadistic smile was anything to go by.  "Please don't.  Whatever it is you're going to do, I... just please don't?"  Richard chuckle and Mitch fought the sob that was threatening to come out of his chest.  He couldn't, however, fight the tears that he felt trickling down his temples.  What was it they didn't want him to see?

He felt small hands unbuttoning his night shirt and opening it to reveal the smooth, pale expanse of his chest.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry for whatever I did.  I won't do it again.  Just... just tell me and I'll..."

"Be quiet.  This isn't anything you did, this is something I want and you're going to give it to me, right?"

The sob turned into a shriek and he bucked as he felt something cold touch his left nipple.  Jessie cursed and pressed his hands on Mitch's thighs.  Tanner chuckled, "Calm down, Mitch, the less you move, the quicker I get this done."

The cold came back and tightened on his nipple like a pair of tweezers pinching it just to the point of painful.  "I don't understand.  Richard..."

Richard moved his hand from Mitch's chin to his mouth, covering it and holding his jaw closed, "I said 'sh', Mitchell-dear, if you were supposed to understand, I would have let you see."

Mitch tried desperately to move anything, but the two men holding him down didn't budge and he could only sit there, crying silently and making muffled please as Tanner did something to his right.  There was clicking and a hissing sound.  Nearly a minute later, it stopped with another click and Tanner took a deep breath, "All right, boys, hold him tight."

Something hot and sharp touched his nipple and Mitch had just enough time to remember something Richard had said, something about a piercing, before white hot pain shot through his chest and made him convulse, screaming into Richard's hand.  The pain quickly dulled to a hot throb, accompanied by an odd pressure in his nipple, but he couldn't hold back the sobs any more and the tears were flowing freely.

Tanner's slender fingers pet his shuddering abdomen.  "Calm down, come on, the worst part's over."

Worst part?!  There was more?  Of course there was more, Richard hadn't let go of him yet.  He cried out as something was tugged out of his tender, raw nipple and he felt something warm trickle down his chest.  Fingers squeezed his nipple and then something was being pushed into the hole, through it, sliding against the torn tissue.  Mitch whined and clenched his eyes shut against the cruel look of satisfaction on Richard's face.  Then everything stopped and he clenched his eyes tighter, because he didn't dare hope it was over.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?  Let's get this thing closed up and then you can have a look."

A few painful tugs and Tanner sighed happily.  "There you go, Richard, tagged and labeled."  Tagged.  Labeled.  Mitch's stomach dropped at the implication.   Someone flicked at the piercing and he gasped at the sensation of pain.  "Did you want the other, or..."

His eyes shot open and Mitch tried to scream "no" from behind the hand, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good.  If Richard wanted his fucking cock pierced, there was nothing he could do about it.  Richard looked down at him, head tilted to one side.  "I think so."

"He won't be able to suck cock for a week, two if it swells up or gets infected."

Richard smiled, locking eyes with Mitch purposefully, "Then we'll have to make sure it doesn't get infected.  Besides, he's good for other things."

Mitch's brain had locked up.  He couldn't process what they were saying, what they were thinking about doing.  It wasn't his other nipple, because that wouldn't affect his ability to suck cock... would it?  Was there some mysterious link between left nipples and cock sucking that he didn't know about?

Richard's hand moved away from his mouth, but he really wasn't sure what he was going to say now.  "You listening, Mitchell-dear?"

He couldn't nod, because Richard was still holding his forehead, but managed a choked, "yes," despite his fear.

"I need you to stick out your tongue."

His tongue...?  No.  He knew what they were thinking and he clenched his jaw shut, his eyes wide in defiance and horror at the thought.  Richard frowned, "Don't be stupid, I can make you open your mouth, love, and I can make it stay open.  One way or another, this is going to happen.  The only difference is whether you piss me off in the process."

Richard was right and he hated himself for having to admit that.  They were three grown men and he was one teenage boy.  Reluctantly, he relaxed his jaw.  It was okay, he'd take it out when he got home, just like he would take out the nipple ring and burn the stupid clothes and throw away the movies and anything else Richard had bought for him.

He had time to see Richard smile before the hand on his forehead moved to cover his eyes.  "Stick out your tongue."

Slowly, he did as he was told, trying to ignore the pathetic whimpers that kept coming from his throat.  He hated that he was so weak, that he couldn't do anything to stop this, that his only choices were to fight and make it more painful, or do what he was told and maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

The plastic rustled again and he immediately drew his tongue back into his mouth.  "Mitchell-dear."  He sobbed and then stuck it back out.

Tanner dabbed something on his tongue that tasted funny and then like nothing at all, because the spot had gone numb.  "It's just Oral-B.  Now, I need you to take deep breath and hold it."

Despite his shaking, he managed to do as he was told.  He felt Tanner straddle his lap and thought he felt something metal against his lip and the next moment the pain of something ripping through his tongue.  Instinctively, he pulled his tongue away, but something clicked against his teeth and he stopped moving.

Tanner clucked, "Come on, back out, Mitch, as far you can.  We're almost finished."

The needle was pulled the rest of the way through and Mitch gripped the blanket hanging off the edge of the bed as Tanner forced a thicker bar into the bleeding whole.  Mitch's whole body was convulsing and he tried to work his legs free, not to kick anyone, but because he wanted to brace his feet.  Finally Tanner moved away and Richard let go of him.  He pulled his tongue into his mouth, startled by the weight of the bar and little ball that rested against the bottom of his mouth.  It felt so heavy.

As Richard unwound his leg from Mitch's arms, Mitch pulled his legs up, curling into a ball.  They were all staring at him, like they expected something.  He looked down and saw a little hoop in his nipple with a green ball hanging off it.  There was blood all over his chest and on Tanner's hands and Jessie took one of those slender hands and kissed the tip of a bloody finger, licking the red from his lips afterwards.  Oh, god, he was going to be sick.

He felt his stomach heave and Tanner looked over at him suddenly before moving away from his boyfriend, his face set hard in agitation, "Take a deep breath through your nose."  He did, because he was too terrified and sickened to disobey.  "Now another."  The nausea was started to recede.  "Tilt you head back and keep breathing."  His stomach settled itself, but he continued to sit with his head back, breathing through his nose with his eyes closed.

Distantly, he realized that Richard was saying goodbye to Tanner and Jessie, thanking them for their help and saying that he'd see them later.  Jessie chuckled and said, "You owe me, Richard Carter," before shutting the door behind him.  Mitch felt choked on the fear of what that implied.  He could barely survive what Richard did to him, he didn't even want to imagine what Jessie would do.

Richard sat on the floor, straddling Mitch's hips and looked down at him hungrily.  Mitch closed his eyes and kept his head tilted back, half afraid he'd be sick and half relieved to have an excuse not to respond.  "You look so fucking sexy, Mitchell-dear."  Richard's hand moved over his chest, pressing his cold finger tips into the smooth skin.  As the fingers brushed against the freshly pierced nipple, Mitch jerked.  It hurt, but it had also sent a shock of something not entirely unlike pleasure from the top of his head to the tips of toes, settling in his groin.

Groaning in disgust at his body's enthusiastic reaction, Mitch tried to wriggle out from under Richard, who moved to sit between Mitch's legs and took Mitch's wrists in one of his hands, trapping them against the bed behind him while he licked and bit the boy's neck.

"Nn."  Mitch didn't want it to feel good, he hated that his cock was already half hard, but Richard was an experienced lover and for all that this was rape to Mitch, it seemed to be about some deluded fantasy for Richard.

The tongue left a wet trail up the side of his neck to his ear and Richard's husky voice filled his head.  "I'm going to let go, Mitchell-dear, and you're not going to move.  You're going to stay absolutely still until I tell you to do otherwise.  Clear?"

Mitch clenched his eyes shut and nodded tersely.  Richard let go of his hands and it took all his effort to clench the blankets and keep them where they were.  He wanted to fight off his attacker, his rapist, but fighting hadn't done him any good up until now and if he moved too much, he thought he might be sick again.  Hell, if he tried talk right now, he might be sick.

Richard got up and went to the bathroom, returning shortly with a small wet cloth that he used to gently wipe the blood off Mitch=s chest.  The little hole through Mitch's nipple was still bleeding, but just slightly and Richard leaned down, flicking his tongue over the tip of the forcibly hardened nub, chuckling when Mitch jumped slightly at the stimulation.

His pyjama bottoms came off, slipping over his hips with an ease that was becoming sickeningly familiar and Richard set about cleaning the rest of him, gently rubbing his leg where the blood had soaked through.  "Mitchell-dear, sit on the bed and lay back."

Mitch nearly sobbed, but did as he was told, not wanting to be tied down again.  Richard pushed his knees apart, and Mitch felt his face turning bright red at the close inspection of his most private regions.  Somehow, it didn't matter than he'd had sex with this man, because that hadn't been this... intimate.

Instinctively, he tried to draw his knees together, but Richard put his hands on them and firmly pushed them back apart.  Mitch took a few deep, shaky breaths and managed to keep them open, despite his desperate need for modesty.  Richard drew the quickly cooling cloth up Mitch's thigh and over his arse, pushing it between his crack and dragging it over his arsehole slowly and firmly before pulling it away and replacing it with something else warm and wet and small that brushed tentatively against the puckered entrance before pressing into it, massaging the tightness with firm pressure.  Richard's tongue.  Oh, dear god, Richard was rimming him and it felt... it felt...  He moaned, despite the pain the vibrations in his mouth caused his tongue.  It felt good, incredibly good and disgusting and wrong all at the same time.

Richard's fingers pulled his arse cheeks further apart and Richard pushed his tongue past the waning resistance in Mitch's arse.  Mitch panted helplessly as Richard fucked him with his tongue, soothing the tight entrance with slow, deliberate in-and-out movements.  Richard pulled away, wiping his mouth and spitting on his hand, rubbing it over his cock before sitting up and positioning himself, slipping almost effortlessly into Mitch's carefully prepared body.

It hurt, god it hurt, but not as much as it had even three days ago.  However, despite the pain, Mitch could feel his erection throbbing obscenely between his legs.  Richard pushed his legs up and leaned over, fucking him.  Mitch gripped the covers tighter, feeling his fingernails biting into his palms through the fabric and then Richard was still, and Mitch knew he was coming by the spread of warmth deep inside him.  Lazily, Richard reached between them, pulling Mitch off.

When it was finally over, Mitch opened his eyes and instantly regretted it.  Richard was leering down at him, crooked smile on his face and his eyes slightly dazed with the afterglow of sex.  "You're so fucking perfect, Mitchell-dear."  He leaned forward, as if to kiss him, but thought better of it and nuzzled his neck for a moment instead before pushing himself off the bed.  "Get up, time for a shower and I bought a new video game.  We'll order pizza tonight and run pedestrians over."

Mitch had no idea what Richard was talking about, but he pushed himself off the bed and followed the actor into the bathroom, trying to ignore the hands that washed him, carefully slipping inside his arse and cupping his balls.  He really was never going to be clean after this.  Looking down, he eyed the small silver hoop through his nipple with distaste.  There was something hanging from it, but from this angle, he couldn't make out what.  Not that it mattered.

Richard turned him around and scrubbed his back, continuing to massage him in a way that reminded Mitch of lovers.

He didn=t feel like eating pizza.

 

tbc