The clicking of chains and the sudden dripping of water awoken me up with a start. I wasn’t under my blankets in my room; I wasn’t even in my room. More of a vast darkness, the only light I could see came from a lit lantern not far from where I was perched. Yes, perched. My arms were restrained above my head my iron chains, my legs dangling under me. The blood flow was gone, my fingers frozen. Where was I? The place looked so familiar, as if I had been here once before, in a nightmare.

I heard it, a clicking coming near me, from the hills of ones shoes. Oh please, have mercy on me, whoever walked forward. I soft chuckle filled the air, the voice laughing as if he had heard my thoughts. “Your pitiless god can not help you, my dear hikari.” The voice whispered, from behind me, I tried turning by the ligament in my arm begun to hurt.

I heard a clanging, oh that clanging could only say one thing. O it was, my voice sounded through out the abyss, the sound of leather hitting my flesh, and the droplets of blood upon the ground. I screamed, even louder, as he repeated that action over again. Twice, a third time, forth, fifth, I must have lost count sometime after, the pain to intense to care.

He gripped my hair, pulling me up to look at him, him and that sadistic smile. The smile grew as he crushed his lips to mine, pushing me further against those chains. My eyes widen as I try to move my face from his, but it only rewards a slap.

“You fucking, British whore, open your legs as the rest of your family and generation has done!” He ordered, and I feel hurt. That insult went deep, and I want to hit him for it, but doing that will only return with punches. My bags begin to tear out, for he has no released my hair, and I scream louder than I have before. I wish one could hear me, maybe another spirit of the millennium items.

Bakura, the name which I call my darker half, clasped his mouth upon my lips in a section, diving into my mouth as if it is his life source to continue with. I screamed loudly as he removed my pants, smiling down at my nude side.

“Not surprised.” He whispered. “Why don’t you wear anything under?”

I feel tempted to spit in his face, but that would only lead to more pain. “Because, my grandmumsie use to say that when you go to bed, why waste underwear? I use to have accidents as a child, when I stayed with her, so I grew use to not wearing any at all.” I waited for him to backhand me, but he didn’t only chuckled in amusement.

Pushing against me, I felt his erection press against my thigh, and I gasped. I knew what he wanted, but my innocence would not let me think of how he wanted it. I waited for him to push into me, but he didn’t, my eyes opened to stare down upon him. Why is he staring at my erection with eyes of lust, I cringe as he puts my whole shaft in his mouth.

His tongue works expertly upon me, sucking and nipping down my shaft, his fingers working their way inside my rear, prepping me up. I couldn’t conceal the moan that escapes my lips as he continued his ministrations; his dry fingers going towards three and the whole vast of world can hear my cry.

Bakura stares up at me, smiling murderously upon my face. Is it all my crying, the screams for help? He stands up, and it seems he is about to tower over my lithe body, had I just realized he was so tall, and by the bulge in his pants, so big. I bit my lip as he reached behind me and picked up a whip, at the tip was a spike. Not that large, but enough to do damage, as he proved.

With a ‘swish’ the leather slammed into my chest, the spike digging in my skin, and torn out immediately after. Did my voice sound that hoarse? It must, because I screamed so loud that my own yami covered his ears and winced. My breathing has grown ragged, and my sight has become blurry, and the tears have dried. My yami stares at me, smiling evilly as he walks behind me.

In one quick thrust, he slams straight inside me, and I scream. Oh lord, please take me away; this hurts, my mind immediately thinks as he slams in me again, entirely missing my prostate. Past my virgin wall, he slams once again inside me, and my knees begin to give away as I whimper.

“God, so tight, Ryou.” Bakura moans, thrashing inside me. How deep can he go before I tear in half? Screaming, I feel blood roll down my slender legs, falling down Bakura’s as well as his pants come hard and husky. His language changing from Japanese to some weird one, but I know he’s calling me a “damned English slut” never, am I anything else to him but a slut. He moans as he releases in me, and I’m still far from that type of pleasure.

No, he isn’t done, just because he found the end of pleasure, oh no, he continues slamming in me. Enjoying all the pain I am in, I’m not in as much pain to his size anymore, but I don’t want to me, I just cry for him to stop in whispers.

“Please Ba-” My words stop as his hand imprints into my cheek, and his husked voice says to call him master. I don’t think I was listening well; because all I remember is the world swirling around me, then total darkness.

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A nudging of my shoulder wakes me up, and I stare into my father’s smiling face. He tells me to wake up and take a shower, and I nod weakly. Sitting up, I growled at the pain that entered, up, my back, so I sat back down again.

So it wasn’t a dream, my yami really did rape me. Yet, against all the pain he put me through, the beatings, and insults…I knew he was going to do it again, and this time, I couldn’t wait.

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There are a lot of Ryou and Bakura stories, where abuse is in order, but not many have it that Ryou craves for the abuse. About the British insults, please! Don’t come after me, I’m innocent, Bakura made me do it!