Ryan’s house, the next morning.
Drew froze when he saw the broken glass. Up until that point, he had only been a little irritated. When Colin and Ryan had failed to show up for the rehearsal, there had been confusion and impatience, but not really any worry. When Drew had pulled up to Ryan’s house and seen both his friend’s cars outside, he assumed they were here together. That left him puzzled, but still not really worried. But now, standing at the front door of Ryan’s house and seeing the broken window, Drew felt that first slipping tendril of fear.
He put a hand to the door, and it swung inward, pushing the broken glass in front of it along the carpet. Drew paused for a moment, wondering if he should call someone. For all he knew, whoever broke the glass could still be in the house. He listened carefully for the sound of intruders, but got only silence. And for some reason he couldn’t identify, the house just *felt* empty.
Drew stepped carefully over the threshold, looking around warily as he avoided treading on any of the razor sharp shards. The house looked basically normal at first glance, until he looked toward the kitchen. One of the high backed wooden chairs was knocked over, lying on its side. Drew moved closer, still staring at the chair. It was interesting, how that one little thing could make the whole room look wrong. He noticed that the salt shaker was also knocked over, and a fan of salt crystals was scattered across the table. Without thinking about it, he pinched some between the thumb and finger of his left hand and threw it over his shoulder.
Funny how rational thinking people will revert to superstition when they’re scared.
The rest of the first floor looked pretty normal, but Drew could still feel his heart hammering in his ears. That knocked over chair, the spilled salt, the broken glass...something was clearly wrong here.
He began moving up the stairs, freezing when one step creaked loudly under his weight. The noise was startling in the silent house, and Drew swallowed, hoping he was right about the house being empty.
Ryan’s room was at the top of the stairs, but Drew noticed the guest room first, because there was a broken dresser lying half way through the open door. Frowning, he moved toward it and looked in. The room was a wreck. A mirror on the wall had been broken, for no apparent reason except that it could be done. The small bedside table was overturned, the drawers pulled out and tossed on the bed. The dresser had splintered along the side when it had been thrown to the floor. The raw wood peeked through the cherry finish, and Drew shook his head. He knew Ryan took pride in his home.
##Man, Ryan is gonna be pissed when he sees
this...if he sees it. Who did this? And where the hell are Ryan and Colin? This...this doesn’t look good. For either of them.##
Swallowing nervously, Drew walked back toward the master bedroom. The door was only slightly ajar, and he pushed it open with a trembling hand. The place was a mess. Clothes, strewn everywhere. More overturned furniture, the bed pulled apart, the closet hanging open. The half-packed suitcases didn’t escape Drew’s notice, either.
##I know they were here, their cars are
still outside. So they were here when this
happened... Oh God, they’re in
real trouble. I can’t...I have to do
something. What the hell am I going to
do?##
Drew stood still, staring helplessly around the trashed room. The casual destruction here was appalling. Whoever did this liked to break things for the sheer enjoyment of it. Wiping a small, chubby hand across his face, Drew wasn’t surprised when it came away sweaty. Someone bad had been here...and that someone might come back.
The thought only increased his fear, and Drew backed out of the room, looking around nervously. The house didn’t feel empty anymore. He seemed to sense eyes on him, and Drew ducked his head, hunching his shoulders in a defensive posture. He hurried down the stairs, and then paused, catching sight of the phone mounted on the kitchen wall.
Of course. He had to call the police. They would know what to do. Quickly crossing the living room again, Drew picked up the phone, dialing 911 before it registered in his mind that there was no dial tone.
Somehow, he wasn’t really surprised.
He stared absently at the overturned kitchen chair for a moment before reaching down and quickly putting it back on its legs. That simple action made the room seem saner, and Drew sat heavily in the chair, cupping his chin in his palm. Worry for his two missing friends was clouding his ability to think.
##Okay, focus. Whoever broke in must have done something
with them. God, I hope they’re still
alive. They have to be alive. They’re more valuable that way. But the kind of people who would break into a
house and tear it apart for no reason might not think that way. Oh shit, guys, please be okay. Please?
Right. Think.
Why would anyone want to hurt Ryan and Colin? People love them. Maybe someone kidnapped them for
ransom...no. If they wanted money, they
would have asked for it by now. We
haven’t gotten any phone calls or letters asking for money. But why else would anyone take them?
I mean, nobody has anything against Ryan and
Colin, right? Well...probably not. Let me just think about this. Everything was fine at the taping, then they came here, and...the
suitcases. On the
floor. Half filled with
clothes. They were going to Colin’s
house! Because of that creepy letter
that Ryan got!
That has to be it. I mean, shit, he got it just yesterday. Right to his front door. The one with the broken
window.
Oh, shit.
They’re in trouble.
What am I going to do?##
* * * * *
Same time, in the basement
“Well now, didn’t we just look cozy? You two sure you’re not fucking?” Chris asked, smirking knowingly. Colin just stared at him, his eyes darker than usual with anger. Ryan hid his face against Colin’s shoulder for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and glared at Chris, setting his jaw in stubborn defiance.
“Awwww...is my pet scared? Gonna pretend to be tough? Well, don’t look to your buddy for help -- he’s not very reliable.” Ryan shook his head, denying the implication, and Chris raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you can depend on him? How quickly you forget what happened yesterday. When he just stood there and watched you suffer.”
“That’s not true!” Ryan snapped, eyes flashing. “He bit that shithead partner of yours, got away, tried so fucking hard to make you stop, you goddamn little sicko, and you know it!”
“Oh really? Didn’t try hard enough, did he? After all, you’re still here.” Chris smiled softly, almost regretfully. He gave Ryan a pitying look. “You really didn’t want to suck me off yesterday, did you? But you did...because of him.”
Colin narrowed his eyes, glaring at Chris. “You bastard, he did it because of you, because you forced him--“
“Shut up! I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my pet,” Chris said silkily, holding Ryan’s gaze with his own. It was like looking into the eyes of a snake -- cold, calculating, and hypnotic.
“If he wasn’t here, you would never have done that, right?” Ryan remained silent, but he no longer looked so sure of himself. If it wasn’t for Colin, he would have followed his instinct and bitten right through anything that bastard put in his mouth. “Don’t you remember when we first captured you, and I had my hand on you, right between your legs, grabbing whatever the hell I wanted to grab? Right by the front door, pet? Remember how he just stood there and watched? I think...I think maybe he likes watching.”
“No!” Ryan and Colin spoke together, but Colin was alarmed when he heard the tone of Ryan’s voice. It wasn’t outraged denial, like his, but instead sounded confused and maybe the tiniest bit doubtful. He was angry, but...unsure.
“Ryan, you know that’s not--“
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up? I don’t like it when my toys don’t obey,” Chris hissed, giving Colin a clearly threatening look. Without warning, he suddenly lashed out with a foot, kicking Ryan in the side. Ryan yelped in pain and hunched over, clutching at the hurt, and Colin shot to his feet, already pulling back a fist. Chris just shook his head and raised an eyebrow, saying, “Try it, and I promise he’ll pay for it. I told you to shut up, and I meant it. Disobedience is not tolerated.”
For a moment, Colin almost hit him anyway, but then he pulled back. Sinking back down beside Ryan, he put a concerned hand on his friend’s back, but Ryan waved him off, saying, “I’m okay.”
Chris watched the whole exchange with narrowed eyes, still irritated with Colin. This one was necessary, a control device for his pet, but his backtalk was irritating. Chris smiled inwardly, while still keeping the patient, almost sad look on his face. His pet was already looking doubtful, confused...exactly as he had predicted. Chris could feel his breathing quicken in anticipation of what was to come, but he forced himself to go slowly. For this to work, it had to be done just right.
“Now pet, you have to admit, he’s been making things more difficult for you since this started. If I didn’t have him to threaten, you might have escaped getting from the house to the van. If he wasn’t here you might have fought, and gotten away. It’s fear for him that’s holding you back. You don’t want him to be hurt. Kind of ironic, since he has no problem seeing you get hurt.”
Colin’s jaw dropped in indignation and he leaned forward, clenching his fists. Chris only raised an eyebrow at him, and said, “You see? There he is now, about to say something more, when he knows I don’t like him backtalking. And who do you think will pay for his impertinence? Why, you will, my pet. And he knows it. Yet still, he talks. He doesn’t care about you.”
Ryan turned to glance at Colin, who snapped his jaw shut. He wanted so badly to deny the accusation, to scream at this bastard, but he was neatly trapped. If he said anything now, Ryan would think Chris was right.
Ryan shook his head after a moment, glaring up at Chris. “That’s not true. He’s my best friend. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”
“Oh really?” Chris replied softly. “Is that so? Well, we’re about to find out.”
Chris nodded to Jack and Ben, and they quickly hauled Colin to his feet. Jack slid his knife along Colin’s forearm, barely scratching the surface and leaving blood to well up like a string of crimson pearls. Hissing in pain, Colin yanked the arm away, glaring at his captors. Ryan jumped up, fists clenched, angry green eyes fixed on the blood dripping down Colin’s arm. He opened his mouth to yell at Jack, but Chris didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“Hush, pet, unless you want to make it worse. Besides, he deserves it for what he’s about to do to you.” Ryan just looked at him in confusion, either not understanding the suggestion or not wanting to understand, but Colin felt a sliver of fear pierce his chest as the possible implications of that statement hit home.
“I’m not going to do anything to Ryan,” Colin snapped, emphasizing his friend’s name. He hated how Chris insisted on calling him ‘pet.’
“Oh, but you are. You’re going to prove me right, by betraying him in the worst possible way. You’re going to fuck him,” Chris added with a gleeful laugh.
There was a shocked pause, and then Colin breathed, “My God, you’re insane.” Chris stepped close to Ryan, staring him in the eyes. Ryan moved back, keeping some distance from the man who had assaulted him less than twenty-four hours ago. The solid wooden post thunked into his back, halting his retreat, and Ryan bit his lip nervously, trying not to look as scared as he felt. Chris brought out his own knife with a practiced flick of his wrist and traced it gently along the contours of Ryan’s face. He continued to stare into those frightened green eyes, but he addressed his words to Colin.
“Such a pretty face...would be a shame to ruin it. But I will -- don’t doubt that for a second. I can cut him for hours...I’m very good at what I do. Before I’m done with him he’ll be begging for death. And you...you get to watch it happen.” Colin felt his breathing catch in his throat as he saw the flash of terror in Ryan’s eyes. “Just like you’re watching now. I can make my pet bleed so much...you don’t realize how much blood is in a person, do you? You’ll find out. He’s quiet now, trying to be tough, but I can make him scream. Did you know that in the extremes of pain, a man’s scream is very much like a woman’s? I can bring him to that point so fast, or I can make it slow. I can keep him there, on the edge of consciousness, awake to feel the pain, for hours. You’ll see, and you’ll just stand there. See, pet?” he said, addressing Ryan again. “See how he just stands there and watches? Such a simple thing I’m asking him to do, to save you this pain, and yet he refuses.”
“Stop it! Leave him alone!” Colin winced at the edge of panic in his voice, struggling against the men who were still holding him.
“You can stop this anytime you want. You just have to do as I say...you want to anyway. I see the way you look at him, don’t even try to deny it.” Colin was shaking his head furiously, desperately trying to get away from Jack and Ben. They held him, seemingly without effort, and he could only watch helplessly as the blade began to draw blood from a spot under Ryan’s jaw. Ryan stiffened, trying to pull away from the painful contact, but Chris stayed with him, applying steady pressure. As Colin looked on in horror, the knife began to dig deeper, sliding down Ryan’s throat. It wasn’t deep enough to cut anything major, but that could change at any second. Blood was beginning to soak the top of Ryan’s shirt, and his eyes were wide, staring helplessly at the knife.
“So, are you just going to watch me hurt him?” Chris asked, actually sounding curious. He asked the question the same way he might have asked whether Colin preferred coffee or tea -- as if the answer really didn’t matter to him either way. The complete lack of feeling in his voice was the last straw for Colin. He realized then that this man wasn’t bluffing. He really would torture and kill Ryan if he didn’t get the cooperation he wanted.
“No! Don’t hurt him! Please...just stop it!”
“Then you’ll do what I say?” Chris asked, still calmly curious. Like a scientist monitoring the outcome of a routine experiment.
“Yes, goddammit, anything, just stop it!” Chris immediately removed the blade, allowing Ryan to put a hand to the long, shallow cut. Blood seeped out past his fingers as he gingerly applied pressure, wincing with pain. Colin stared helplessly at his friend, terrified of what he had just agreed to.
Chris waved Colin over, nodding at Jack and Ben to release him. Colin rushed to Ryan’s side, but stopped short when he saw the wariness in his friend’s eyes. That Ryan could actually be frightened of him tore at Colin’s heart, but there was no time for reassurance.
Chris felt adrenalin shoot through his body as the critical step arrived. The older one, the control device, had agreed to cooperate, but saying and doing are two different things. He would need prodding and instruction to make the betrayal complete. Catching the wariness in his pet’s eyes, Chris felt a flash of triumph. Already the pet was unsure, doubting, frightened. It was like cracking a safe. There are tough cracks and easy cracks, but no impossible cracks. The friendship between his two captives was a tough one, but Chris had his chisel in place and had lifted that first vital corner. Now it was just a matter of working a little further in. The time for slow, careful manipulation was over. He had to keep things moving quickly before his pet could stop and think. Chris noticed that the control captive was in no condition to carry out his orders, and he smirked slightly. Now he knew where to begin.
“Now, pet, I think he needs a little help to...ah, get ready.” Smirking, Chris directed a meaningful look at Colin’s groin, and then looked pointedly at Ryan. “Why don’t you give him a...hand?” When Ryan didn’t move, Chris lifted the knife again, his eyes narrowing in impatience.
Colin couldn’t stand to watch helplessly while Ryan was hurt -- not again. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed his best friend’s bloodied hand, placing it firmly against his crotch. Ryan’s eyes fixed on Colin’s in shock, and his jaw dropped.
“I’m sorry...God, I’m so sorry, but we have to, Ry. Please, I can’t just let him hurt you.” Colin tried to communicate with his eyes; tried to assure Ryan that he wouldn’t respond to the touch. He had no intention of actually betraying his best friend in such a way. If he could just keep from responding, then Chris would have no choice but to give up. Wouldn’t he? Or would he just hurt Ryan because Colin didn’t follow his orders? Colin shook his head in frustration. He would just have to go through the motions, act like he was trying to cooperate, and maybe Chris would be satisfied with that. And maybe he would kill Ryan in a fit of frustration. Colin had no way of knowing, no way of predicting what this dangerous psychopath would do. At that moment, Colin felt completely trapped -- all his options were bad.<
“You see? You see how he starts it? Now, undo his pants, and go to work. You know your job, and so does he.” The smooth tenor voice was calm and certain, and Ryan found himself believing it. Like a man in a trance, he obeyed, slipping his hand into Colin’s loose fitting pants and beginning to stroke him. Glancing down, Colin could see Ryan’s blood on the light material, like a scarlet mark of his guilt.
“Ryan, don’t listen to him.” Pausing a moment, Colin leaned a little closer and whispered, “I won’t do this, Ryan, I won’t respond, I just have to pretend to cooperate so he won’t hurt you.” Ryan just looked at him, still confused and wary.
“I don’t want to do this...if there was any other way...” Colin’s voice was pleading, desperate, but his body was betraying him. Ryan was surprisingly skilled, and despite his wishes to the contrary, Colin was responding. Ryan felt it and paused, looking at his friend with surprised hurt. Chris saw the expression, and the growing evidence of Colin’s arousal, and he moved in like a shark to the kill.
“There! He’s going to use you -- just like I did. That’s all you are to him, to your so-called best friend -- something to be taken advantage of. He doesn’t care about you any more than I do.”
Ryan’s emerald eyes filled with tears, and he trembled, looking away and biting his lip. Now there was nowhere safe to run, no one to help him. Even Colin, the man he had trusted more than anyone else, was no longer safe. The fear of being raped again was overpowering his reason, and Ryan felt he could truly understand the term, ‘stabbed in the back.’ He couldn’t believe this...it couldn’t be real. His best friend, the person he always depended on, was actually going to...to rape him? No! Ryan didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was in the palm of his hand.
“Why, Colin? How could you do this to me?” The question was barely whispered through trembling lips. Colin felt a terrible pain slice into his chest as he saw the empty sadness in Ryan’s eyes. Fear followed the pain, and he started speaking very rapidly, desperate to make Ryan understand.
“No! Please, you have to believe me, please Ryan, I don’t want to do this!” Instead of replying, Ryan suddenly moved his hand, which had never ceased its gentle stroking. Colin gasped in response, his body reacting even though his mind was desperately trying to avoid it. For Ryan, this was the last straw, and he turned away. The betrayal tasted very bitter indeed, and he swallowed, fear making his mouth dry and cottony. To be frightened of his best friend was more than he could bear, and Ryan felt the first tears slip down his cheeks. He gritted his teeth angrily, shaking his head, still overwhelmed by how deeply Colin had hurt him. Chris smiled triumphantly, and said nothing. His work was done. Ryan had just been neatly cut off from his one source of comfort and support. After such a painful betrayal, Chris was sure their relationship would be permanently broken, leaving him in prime position to pick up the pieces and claim Ryan as his own.
Colin felt like his heart was breaking. Ryan’s downcast eyes, his taut, trembling body, and worst of all, his apparent resigned acceptance of his fate -- Colin shook his head vehemently, refusing to allow this to happen.
“Ryan? Please, please, look at me. You have to listen, if you’ll just...please! Ryan...if you ever trusted me -- if you ever loved me -- you’ll listen to me now.” Colin held his breath, waiting to see if Ryan would respond. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, and his throat was tight with emotion -- mostly a paralyzing fear that he’d just lost the best friend he’d ever had. The man he was closest to, the man he loved like a brother...and maybe more. For a long moment, Ryan didn’t move...and then, ever so slowly, he lifted his face to look Colin in the eyes. The terrible blankness in those familiar features was enough to push Colin over the edge, and he began to cry, pleading with Ryan between sobs.
“Oh, God, Ryan, I’m so sorry...please, you’ve got to believe me! I would never do this! If there was any other way, any other choice, I would take it! I don’t care what they do to me; I swear I would rather die than hurt you! But I can’t...I can’t let them hurt you. Not when I could do something to stop it! Seeing you suffer and being helpless to stop it...I can’t do that again!
“So instead of letting them hurt me you do it yourself?” Ryan interrupted, his voice shaking. “Oh, that’s just so much fucking better, isn’t it!”
“No, Ryan! Please, please, hear what I’m saying. When that bastard was...forcing you, and I couldn’t do anything -- never again, Ryan! I would do anything to save you from that...even this.” Colin’s voice broke again as he choked out the words. Dropping his hands in a gesture of hopelessness, he continued in a low, sad voice, “But it’s for you. Not for me...never! Please, I...I’m so sorry. If there was any other way, I swear I would take it. Anything! To keep from doing this...please, you just have to believe me! Listen to me! Oh, Ryan...please...”
Colin trailed off, and buried his face in his hands, muffling the choked sobs. He almost didn’t hear the tiny, faint voice when it said, “I believe you.”
“What?” The question came from two men, Chris in angry disbelief and Colin in trembling hope.
“I said, I believe you,” Ryan repeated, staring into Colin’s eyes. Unable to speak, Colin only widened his eyes, silently asking for more. “That you would do this...risk everything, to keep me from getting hurt...” Ryan was shaking his head in disbelief, and he added, “I never should have doubted you.”
Colin felt relief wash over him in a numbing wave, and he sagged, his knees nearly buckling. “Ryan...oh, God, Ryan...” Suddenly, words were just not enough, and Colin threw himself into Ryan’s open arms, clinging to the slender frame with all his might. Ryan held him just as tight, and both men spoke at once, whispering nonsense to each other.
“I was so scared...so sorry...thought I’d lost you...love you...” Ryan’s words were muffled against Colin’s shoulder, but the older man understood them perfectly. Mostly because he was mumbling the same things into Ryan’s neck.
This might have gone on for a long time had they not been forcefully yanked apart. Jack was holding Colin, and Chris twisted Ryan’s arms painfully behind his back, snarling furiously in his ear.
“You think you’re so fucking clever, huh? You’re not so smart, you little slut, cause now you’re *really* in for it!” Jabbing a finger in Colin’s direction, he snapped, “Get that crybaby outta here...I need some time alone with my pet.”
“No! Ryan...” Colin protested, reaching for his friend. Ryan tried to move toward him, only to be brutally jerked back by Chris. He reached out with one long arm, his fingertips brushing against Colin’s outstretched hand for a brief moment. Jack and Ben were busily undoing the ankle chain that held Colin in place, and soon they were dragging him away. Colin kept his eyes on Ryan, his hand still out as if they could touch one last time, and called out again, “Don’t let him get to you! I’ll find a way to get you out of here, I swear! I love you, Ryan!”
“I lo--“ Ryan’s reply was cut short when Chris slapped a hand over his mouth, but Colin heard enough. As he was pulled quickly away, he kept his eyes fixed on Ryan, desperately clinging to the sight. Chris had Ryan’s arms twisted behind his back and was whispering something in his ear -- something bad, judging by the look on Ryan’s face. Their eyes met one last time, and Colin felt something wrench inside him. He was scared of where he was going, and what was going to happen to him, but he was even more scared for Ryan, being left alone with that raving psychotic.
Colin kicked desperately, twisting his body, trying to get away, but the two men held on grimly, dragging his struggling form through the basement. Colin couldn’t see Ryan anymore, only the glow of light getting further away by the second. God only knew what that bastard was doing to him... But Colin knew, he’d known all along that it would come to this, as soon as he saw the possessive way Chris touched Ryan, the desire in his cold eyes, and the knowledge only made him fight harder, thrashing helplessly. There was no fucking way he could just let that happen! He had to get back there and help Ryan, had to do something... Colin clenched his fists in helpless frustration, hating his inability to act. He was useless to Ryan now...just as he had been all along. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to win. Colin kept his eyes trained on that dwindling point of light, until the two thugs dragged him around a corner and into darkness once again.
He was brought through a narrow doorway into another part of the seemingly endless basement, and his ankle was chained to a conveniently positioned metal ring in the wall. Jack leaned into him, thrusting a hand into Colin’s still-open pants. Struggling only got his wrists cuffed to the wall, and soon he was helplessly bound. Jack continued to grope him, but Colin noted with grim satisfaction that the man kept a careful distance from his mouth.
Ben, looking on with a voyeuristic smile, nodded at Colin and said, “Be glad you’re in here with us. Cause Chris is really pissed, and he gets a little crazy when he’s mad.”
Wanting to lash out because of his worry over Ryan, Colin very nearly made a smart remark, but bit it back. This was probably not the time to be a smartass. Instead, he asked, “What do you mean?”
Jerking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Ryan, Ben replied, “I just mean your friend is in big trouble. I hope you got a good look at him before you left, cause chances are, you’re never going to see him again.”
Colin tried not to look as horrified as he felt. This was exactly what he had feared the most. Never seeing Ryan again...he couldn’t stand the thought of it. Ryan had been his best friend for nearly half his life, his confidante, his trusted companion; the one man he could say ‘I love you’ to with complete honesty. His mind was conjuring up all kinds of terrible images about what that bastard might be doing to his Ryan... Chris, forcing himself into Ryan, cutting him with the knife...Ryan’s blood soaking into the hard dirt floors...those sweet, familiar eyes dulling as the spirit faded into despair... Colin shuddered, trying -- and failing -- to push away the appalling thoughts. Jack must have seen the abject misery in his eyes, because he smiled vindictively, leaning in as close as he dared.
“That’s what you get, isn’t it? Serves you right, you little fucking biter...you should’ve just fucked him like Chris said. Now he’s going to suffer more than you can possibly imagine -- and its all...your...fault!” Jack emphasized each word with a hard thump on Colin’s chest, grinning with gleeful malice.
The words echoed in his mind...’all your fault.’ Colin gritted his teeth, feeling the guilt like a weight on his shoulders. Colin could see Ryan in his mind again, reaching out for him, desperate, and he couldn’t help but think he should have just cooperated. Done what Chris wanted, and then maybe they would still be together. But that was no good...the only real solution would be if he wasn’t here. Then that bastard couldn’t use him against Ryan. If he wasn’t there, none of this would ever have happened. Colin shuddered, slumping his shoulders just a little more. He would just have to do something, find a way to get out of here, anything but just standing here and feeling guilty. Blinking a few times, Colin shook himself, looking around the room so he wouldn’t have to meet Jack’s leering gaze. He couldn’t help but feel that this place was too huge to just be a basement. It seemed to be a whole underground complex, all with dirt floors and occasional hanging bulbs leaving islands of light in the sea of darkness. Jack and Ben clearly knew their way around, and Colin wondered just how many people were brought down here. The whole place looked to be set up deliberately to hold and control captives.
There were heavy iron rings embedded in the dirt floor and the concrete walls, with chains and manacles hanging from them. Colin felt a sense of unreality looking at them, since they looked like a fake prop out of a medieval movie or something. He wondered briefly where one would go to buy chains and manacles. Maybe Chris had them custom made or something. He certainly had the money, if this place was any indication, and the necessary dedication.
Colin felt a wry smile twitch at his lips at the thought -- dedication. Yeah, that was one way of putting it. Another, more accurate way would be insanity. The very thought of Ryan being trapped alone with that madman made his stomach turn, and he smacked a palm against the wall behind him in frustration. He looked around the room again, as if some magical way to escape would appear if he just searched hard enough. But he only saw Jack and Ben, staring at him. Jack’s vindictive smile was slipping away, to be replaced by raw, possessive desire, and Colin shuddered. He suddenly had a rather disturbing idea of what those rings in the floor were used for. An image came to mind, unbidden and unwanted: his arms chained to those rings, ankles equally bound to the floor, his back arched as he thrashed helplessly on his hands and knees, while Jack--
No. Colin pushed the thought from his mind as hard as he could. But another glance at the look on Jack’s face brought it back again -- the man was looking at the iron rings and licking his lips, as if he knew exactly what Colin was thinking.
Colin shook his head in helpless denial, and found himself looking to Ben, who had so far been the least violent one, for help. Ben was also staring at him, seeming enthralled, but he didn’t have the same leer as Jack did. His smallish pudgy frame made him look less threatening, but Colin hadn’t forgotten the way he looked at Chris -- with admiration that bordered on hero-worship.
Seeing the pleading glance, Ben only smiled sadly and shrugged. “Jack’s right, y’know. You should’ve listened to Chris. He’s the smartest man I know, and he *always* gets what he wants. You should never try to fight him -- it only makes things worse.” Stepping to the doorway, Ben glanced back in Ryan’s direction, cocking his head in a listening posture. Jack did the same, and Colin felt his stomach leap into his throat as the sound of screaming echoed through the basement. The screams were constant, sounding like someone in terrible pain. They were also unmistakably Ryan’s. Colin’s eyes widened and he twisted his body, whipping back and forth in a futile effort to escape his bonds. He didn’t know what he could do, but he couldn’t just sit there and listen to his friend in such pain and do nothing! He had to get away, even if it meant ripping his fucking arm off to get out of these chains.
“What the fuck is that bastard doing to him?” Colin breathed, shuddering and thrashing against his chains again as the screams reached a new pitch. Jack only smirked, and Ben looked at him earnestly, like a teacher explaining something to a rather slow student.
“Chris is *very* good at what he does. He’s the best...the master. I wouldn’t want to be in your friend’s place right now...cause *nobody* balks Chris and gets away with it. Nobody.” Ben cocked his head again, a small smile curving his lips, like he was actually enjoying the harsh screaming. Then, suddenly and without warning, the sounds stopped. Complete silence fell again as Colin tried not to think what the sudden stop might mean. Ryan was all right. Ryan HAD to be all right.
But of course, no one screams like that when they’re all right. At least Ryan was alive. Or had been, a few seconds ago. But no...Colin refused to even think that way. Ryan was alive. Colin fixed that one imperative in his mind. Ryan was alive, and Colin was going to find a way to get him out. That was the only way. Ryan being anything but alive...simply not an option.
Colin felt like crying again. His chest tightened and he blinked rapidly, swallowing in an effort to maintain control. He was still shaking his head, trying desperately to deny the reality of the situation. Everything that had happened in the last day -- Is that all it’s been? A day? -- had taught him that these men were capable of anything. But he still didn’t want to believe it -- not about Ryan. Colin kicked the wall behind him, yanking helplessly at the chains once again. He wanted so damn badly to get away from here, to act, to fight back. He could feel his heartbeat rushing in his ears, and his legs felt rubbery -- the tortured screams were still echoing in his mind. But even worse was the way those screams had stopped so suddenly; he almost wished he could hear them again, just to know Ryan was alive. Colin struggled uselessly against the bonds, causing Jack to laugh derisively.
“You’re not going anywhere...and don’t be so worried about your little slut of a friend.” Colin’s dark eyes flashed furiously at this label, and Jack laughed again before he continued, “He is! Didn’t you see the way he took Chris in his mouth? He was fucking loving it! Right now, he’s probably taking it up the ass and getting off on it! So quit thinking about him. You have more...pressing...concerns.” Jack lifted his eyebrows suggestively and began undoing Colin’s pants. When Colin thrashed against the wall, making it as difficult as possible, Jack pulled the knife again.
“Don’t you cut him! He’s going to be mine, don’t forget...I’ll get Chris!” Ben shook his finger warningly at Jack, looking for all the world like a child threatening to tell the teacher.
“Relax, Benny...I’m just gonna change his sense of style a bit. He’s...overdressed.” With that, Jack swiftly sliced through Colin’s pants, still marked by that bloody handprint at the crotch, tossing the ruined shreds in the corner. He made quick work of the shirt as well, and soon Colin was left shivering in his boxer shorts. He turned his body in an effort to cover his exposed skin, his face burning. Jack lifted his hands as if to remove Colin’s shorts, and then paused, casting a quick glance back at Ben.
“You’re so worried about me hurting him...why don’t you do this?” Ben’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he grinned like a kid getting a sudden surprise gift.
“I thought...Chris said I only get him after he’s done with the other one. Won’t he be mad?” Ben obviously wanted to take Jack up on the offer, but his unswerving loyalty to Chris was holding him back. Colin watched all this silently, dreading the moment when he would be fully naked in front of these men. Already, he felt more vulnerable, and the sense of helplessness was only growing. He actually hoped it would be Ben who eventually did the honors...he seemed like he would at least try to do it gently.
“Chris wants him naked. It’ll make him more cooperative. C’mon, Benny...you know you want to. He’s gonna be yours anyway, this is just a little...sneak preview.” Jack’s voice was wheedling and persistent, and Ben gave in. Stepping forward and giggling excitedly, he carefully pulled the shorts down, cutting them away where they were blocked by the ankle chains. Colin was now completely stripped, and he felt the blood rush to his skin, sending a flush from the tips of his ears to the top of his chest. Being naked in front of fully dressed strangers was an incredibly embarrassing, incredibly vulnerable feeling, and Colin instinctively tried to hide behind his hands. They were still chained to the wall, so he could only make an abortive half-movement as he turned his body, feeling their eyes raking over his bare skin. Ben was gaping at him, looking completely enthralled. Jack smiled in satisfaction, and moved on to the next step. He was determined to repay Colin for biting him, and for getting him in trouble with Chris. He just had to get Ben to play along.
“Let’s touch him, Benny. Just a little bit.” Ben started shaking his head, ready to voice yet another nervous objection. “C’mon, we’ve already touched him! When Chris was doing the other one earlier, I was touching him! It’s okay as long as we don’t kill him. That’s the only hard and fast rule...at least, until he’s not needed anymore.” Colin looked nervously between Jack and Ben, panic rising in his belly, making his heartbeat echo rapidly in his ears. To be discussed this way, like a piece of meat on display, was both terrifying and degrading.
“Don’t listen to him, Benny! Chris said not to! You have to...he’ll be mad!” Colin was desperate, but his strident, demanding tone was a mistake. Jack leapt on it immediately, turning the pleading to his advantage.
“Are you going to let him tell you what to do? You’re the boss of him, Benny! He’s just property -- Chris said so! You can do anything you want to him!”
“Yeah! You can’t tell me what to do!” Ben answered, gaining courage from Jack’s relentless badgering. Like a kid performing a dare, he lightly traced a hand over Colin’s bare abdomen, then yanked it back and looked around nervously, as if afraid of getting caught. Jack clapped him on the back in congratulations, nodding encouragingly.
“See? He’s yours...what do you want to do with him?” When Ben shrugged, Jack stepped in and cupped a hand on Colin’s ass, saying, “You want to do this? Cause you can, y’know. Go ahead...I’ll help you.” Licking his lips in excitement, Ben followed Jack’s lead, allowing his hand to rest firmly on the rounded flesh. Colin tried to jerk away, but the chains kept him still, and he had no choice but to tolerate it. Jack’s hand was cool and dry; Ben’s warm and sweaty. Colin trembled, trying again to pull away. His already rapid breathing speeded up a little more and his stomach lurched nauseatingly. He wanted to beg them to stop, but he was afraid that would just give Jack more ammunition to use against him.
Jack gritted his teeth, impatient with the slow process of getting Ben to cooperate. He decided he didn’t have time for this shit, and went straight for the goal, knowing Ben was gullible enough to go along. “Hey!” Jack exclaimed, as if he’d just had a great idea. “I know what we can do! Let’s fuck him!” Colin easily saw through the weak acting job, but Ben seemed to eat it up. It was obvious this had been Jack’s goal from the start, and he was just manipulating Ben to get what he wanted, but the hapless young man didn’t realize it.
“Oh, I don’t know, Jack--“
“Come on! We’ll use the chains to get him on the floor...we won’t have to hurt him at all! Don’t you want to?”
“Well...” Ben was clearly giving in, and Colin couldn’t help himself anymore. He just couldn’t stand by silently while they discussed their plans to rape him.
“No!” Colin begged, looking earnestly at Ben. “Please...it *will* hurt me! You can’t do this! Please--“
“He’s doing it again!” Jack snapped, cutting him off. “He’s trying to give you orders again. Are you going to let him get away with that? Well, are you?”
Ben seemed to puff with pride, and he stuck his chin out stubbornly. “No, I’m not! I can do anything I want to you...pet!” The dominant statement was ruined by the way he kept giggling, but Ben was still terrifying to Colin. He struggled desperately as the two men moved him to a hands-and-knees position on the floor, attaching his wrists and ankles to more of those conveniently placed iron rings. Colin was painfully aware that this was exactly what he had imagined happening. Then Ben’s clumsily probing fingers began sliding down his back, and all rational thought was pushed aside.
**No!
Oh God, please, this can’t be happening!
Stop...Ryan, help me! Make them
go away! Don’t let them touch me anymore
-- I can’t stand it! Shit! I have to get away somehow...I can’t let this
happen! Please, no... Oh God, he’s getting too
damn close...those hands all over me...no fucking way! I can feel him trying to get in...stop it, you fucking bastard!**
Colin struggled as much as possible against his bonds, twisting his body in an effort to avoid the invasive touches. Jack was holding him still, the strong hands digging painfully into his hips. Ben was nervous, but excited, and he kept trying to position his body behind Colin and insistently prodded at the struggling man with his fingers. Colin clamped himself shut, fighting with everything he had, but Ben was persistent and he managed to slide first one, and then two fingers inside.
**Holy fucking Christ, no! Can't breathe, fuck it hurts. Get the fuck away from me!
Leave me alone you goddamn shit-for-brains
idiotic bastard! Stop this! You won't
get to me -- I’ll never let you win! God, I can’t just let this happen... Have
to fight it... Oh God, no matter what I do, he won't stop, won't get out of my
own goddamn body. Please, *please*
someone make them stop this... STOP touching me damn
it! Just get away from me... Please, help, someone... You can’t do this! You just can’t...please...just stop... I
can’t...this can’t happen to me! No...NO!**
Colin was losing the fight. His panicked thrashing was slowly diminishing as terror sapped his energy. Ben still hadn’t managed to penetrate with anything other than his fingers, but he inevitably would. Colin was gasping for breath, sobbing and pleading incoherently with them to stop. Ben was too excited and aroused to listen to the pleading, his breath coming in short panting gasps, his mouth open and his tongue protruding slightly. Jack only grinned vindictively as he enjoyed Colin’s misery.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The cold voice from the doorway froze all three of them in place, and then Colin quickly twisted his body, pulling away from Ben’s grasping hands and insistent prodding. But this time, Ben didn’t remount -- instead, he sat back on his heels and gave Chris a deer-in-the-headlights look.
“I...he...it was Jack’s idea!” Ben pointed accusingly at Jack, and then sheepishly hurried to pull up his pants, casting nervous looks at Chris the whole time.
“You little shit! You wanted to do him! It’s not like I fucking twisted your arm--“
“I don’t want to hear it,” Chris interrupted, holding up a hand. “And don’t worry, you’ll be able to do whatever you want with him soon enough. Once my pet is broken, I won’t need him for control anymore.” Ben nodded quickly, happy that he wasn’t being punished for his actions. Jack just rolled his eyes and snorted derisively, muttering something that sounded a lot like ‘fucking pathetic little pup.’
“What was that?” Chris asked, his eyes hard.
“Nothing, boss. Nothing at all,” Jack hastened to reply, glaring at Ben.
“Right,” Chris continued, “that’s why I came to get you two. My pet it either going to be broken -- or he’s going to die in the process. Either way, you should see it. It’ll be a real...learning experience.” Ben nodded eagerly, moving toward Chris, his body language that of a dog that knows it has misbehaved. Jack waited until Chris looked away to roll his eyes.
Chris gave Colin a long look, taking in the trembling nakedness and the tears still drying on his face. He smiled faintly, raising an appreciative eyebrow. “Not bad...when I’m done with my pet, I may just take a turn with you myself. For now, you might as well stay in that position...you’re going to be spending a lot of time that way, and you should get used to it.” He turned to leave, and then paused as a thought occurred to him.
Looking back over his shoulder, Chris said, “Oh, and don’t even think about seeing him again. One way or another, the man you knew as Ryan Stiles is going to die. When I break him, he’ll be a different creature altogether -- not a man anymore, but simply a toy for my amusement and pleasure. And if he proves too stubborn and is no longer worth the effort...” Chris drew a finger across his throat, leaving no question as to his intentions. With that chilling promise, he walked out, his men trailing in his wake.
Colin was left alone, naked and shivering, still trembling from the near rape. His mind was flying in a million directions at once, and he collapsed to the ground, shaking helplessly and sobbing in despair.
**No...please...this can’t be real. Oh God...Ryan...They want to take him away from me. They can’t...oh, God, what am I going to do? I have to do something, save him. Save myself... What if they come back and... Shit. This is getting me nowhere, but if they touch me again...I couldn't stand it! God I just want to go home. Oh, Ryan, where are you? Please be okay... wherever you are, you better be okay. I’m so scared...I need you. I wish I could hold you again... I need to know you're okay. I need to feel you and I need you to hold me too. They wouldn’t stop... Their hands were all over and he was going to... God just fucking STOP thinking about it! What are they doing to you? If they...I'll kill them. I couldn’t stand to lose you. Not my Ryan! I can’t let them... I can’t...please, just get me out of here. Someone help me...I can’t stand to be so alone. It’s so cold...please...I want to go home.**
* * *
Interlude
Chris smiled faintly to himself as he watched his pet sleep. Normally he didn’t allow his pets to sleep more than an hour at a time, but this one had earned it. Chris could still feel the echoes of pleasure in his body. The first time, thrusting himself into the trembling, struggling body of a new pet, was always the best. Chris thrived on the taking, the control, the blood. It was so sweet to know that this person, this real human being, was merely a toy for him to play with. And to break, if he so chose. What made the orgasm that much more intense was this feeling, this feeling of complete and total control over a human being, the fact that he was HIS to play with, HIS to hurt, HIS to make a slut out of. The pet’s feelings didn’t matter; all that mattered was his own physical pleasure. He could remember how the pet had screamed, the pain written in every inch of his body. And the best part was that he put that pain there. The pet was his to hurt, his to control and possess. He could do whatever he wanted. And he had wanted this pet for so long. But Chris was a patient man, careful and deliberate, and now it was paying off. His plans had worked perfectly.
Well...except for that fuck-up with the older one. That still stung a bit. Chris had underestimated the strength of his captives’ bond, and that irked him. Usually he could predict exactly how his toys would react, and manipulate them like puppets. His pet forgiving the other one had only strengthened their connection, and Chris knew that could mean trouble. He was confident in his ability to break the current pet -- provided he had nothing to hold on for. But now...well, separating them was clearly the only way to go. If he couldn’t break them up emotionally, then it had to be done physically.
That wasn’t as effective though, and Chris frowned slightly. Now that the pet had something to hold on to, something to fight for, he might not be so easy to break. Chris knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew how to read his pets, but this one was a challenge. Forgiving the older one after Chris had carefully orchestrated that beautiful betrayal had really thrown his plans. So he really couldn’t be sure if the pet would break. There was still time, of course. Plenty of time to play, to push, to hurt. To see exactly what made this pet tick, and what made him crack. And if, in the end, he simply refused to break, then he would have to be killed. Regrettable, but these things happen.
Maybe he could bring back the other one, the control one, and make his pet watch as he was worked over by the boys. They clearly wanted to do it, if the little scene he had walked in on earlier was any indication. As far as Chris was concerned, raping someone was the worst possible thing that could be done to them. He took pride in knowing that he was inflicting the most painful, most damaging thing possible on his pets. And if that was done to the control captive, his usefulness would be lost.
Still...being forced to watch that done to someone he was so close to would certainly be damaging to his pet. It was tricky, because it might break him, or it might just strengthen his resolve, making him hate Chris even more. Chris had the feeling that this particular pet would respond with anger. Shrugging, he filed the possibility away for later use. There were still many other tricks to try before he resorted to permanently damaging the older one.
Right now, Chris didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know if the pet would break in a few days, or a few weeks, or never. He didn’t know if he would have a new toy or simply be forced to kill again.
And wouldn’t knowing spoil the fun?
End part 4
* * * * *
Colin had completely lost track of time. He felt sure that he had been down here for days, but his time sense was all screwed up. He had no frame of reference, no night and day, the meals were small and erratic, the sleep was often interrupted, and time stretched out interminably. If he had to guess, Colin would say he’d been here for a couple weeks, but that was probably way off. The small room where he was held captive was always the same -- bare concrete walls, earthen floor, single unadorned bulb hanging overhead, casting harsh light over his bare body. Colin wished they would turn the light off sometimes; he hated feeling so exposed.
Sometimes he thought he heard Ryan’s screams again, but that might have just been in his mind. Lack of food and sleep was making Colin dazed and barely coherent. At first, he had counted the times that they came in to feed him, hoping to keep track of time that way. But the feeding was so erratic and rare that it made a poor timekeeper. Sometimes they would make him wait for what seemed like days, but was probably only hours. His hunger only stretched out the time. Other times they would wake him up to feed him, when it seemed like he had just fallen asleep. Exhaustion constantly dragged at the edges of his mind, making everything fuzzy and unreal.
Coherent thought often gave way to a basic, animalistic survival. It was all about getting enough to eat, finding a way to get some rest while still chained in an upright position, catching every drop of water that they teasingly drizzled down his face. Water was especially important. They never gave him enough, and Colin usually felt like he had a rusty razor blade in his throat. Swallowing was incredibly painful. He wished they would call him by his name once in a while...it was always ‘pet’ or some other epithet. Colin felt like he was losing his identity. Like he wasn’t a person anymore...more like an animal. His thoughts never seemed to make much sense, and they tended to revolve around somehow killing these monsters and getting to Ryan. His mind seemed to...to tilt, almost, and Colin understood that true lunacy was perhaps not that far away. Sometimes he would feel like crying, in frustration and fear, worry for Ryan, but tears wouldn’t come. His body refused to waste the liquid.
He lived in fear of Jack and Ben returning to finish what they had started. So far, they hadn’t actually raped him, but they talked of little else. Every time they entered the room to give him a little water, or some tiny bit of food, he had to endure their touches and snide remarks. Ben was growing bolder, but Colin noticed that the slow-witted man never entered the room alone. Jack was always there to chaperone, and Colin felt the smallest sliver of hope. If he could somehow get Ben alone and talk to him, he might be able to con the gullible man. It hadn’t escaped Colin’s notice that Ben wanted to touch him very badly, and he thought if he could appeal to that desire, he could overcome Ben’s already shaky common sense.
“Hey now sweet thing,” Jack’s crude voice called, snapping Colin out of his thoughts. “You’re looking a bit cold...maybe Benny and I should warm you up, hmmm?” Jack entered the room like he owned the place, with Ben trailing in his wake, his eyes roving over Colin’s exposed skin. Colin glared at them, but kept his mouth shut. Every time he spoke, he was punished, usually with a thorough groping. Or more. Colin gritted his teeth, clamping his jaw firmly shut as he remembered what had happened the last time he had spoken.
* * *
“Get the fuck away from me, you disgusting piece of shit!” Colin spat the words out, glaring at Jack, who had a hand sliding up his inner thigh. He also managed to shoot out a little saliva, catching Jack just below the left eye. Pretty remarkable, considering how thirsty he was, but it was worth it to watch Jack pull back in disgust. Colin grinned at him, showing so many teeth that it was more of a snarl.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one, fuckhead,” Jack snapped, and quickly began rearranging the chains. They went through a complicated system of rings and locks, so that it was possible to move Colin around the room without ever actually taking the chains off his arms and legs. Colin thrashed, struggling, until Jack kneed him in the groin. He doubled over as best he could with his restraints, sucking in a gasping breath through clenched teeth.
“Hey! You’re not supposed to do that, remember?” Ben said, frowning. He could see that Jack was moving Colin to a hands-and-knees position, and he assumed that Jack was going to try and rape him again.
“Shut up, you fucking pup, I know what I’m doing,” Jack replied over his shoulder. Colin was trembling on the floor, still trying to curl in around the pain where Jack had kneed him. Nausea was rolling in his stomach and he swallowed hard, trying to control it. He couldn’t afford to lose any precious food or liquid.
Colin’s filthy, naked body was chained firmly in place, and Jack waited until he thought the pain had faded. He wanted to make sure this little fucking biter could feel every second of what he was going to do. Pausing a moment to stare into Colin’s eyes, Jack grinned maliciously at him and pulled a hand back. Then he brought it forward at a punishing speed, his palm landing a stinging strike right on Colin’s ass.
Colin jerked in pain, biting his lip to keep from crying out. His eyes widened in disbelief -- this asshole wasn’t actually going to...to spank him, right? He tried to twist his body back and forth, to dodge the blows, but Jack just kept going. Colin felt blood rush to his face as the humiliation sank in, and he lowered his head, staring grimly at the ground. The smacking sounds echoed around the small room, along with Jack’s satisfied grunts and Ben’s giggles. He seemed to think it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.
Clenching his teeth and clawing helplessly at the dirt beneath his hands, Colin somehow managed to keep from crying out. The stinging, burning pain only seemed to go up and up, and he could never see when another blow was coming. Jack didn’t keep up a regular rhythm, but instead paused erratically, so that Colin wouldn’t know when to expect another strike.
He wasn’t sure how long the degrading experience continued, but when it was finally over he was left trembling. His chest kept hitching, and Colin thought he would probably be crying if his body didn’t need the fluid so much. He gritted his teeth again, glaring over his shoulder at Jack, who was grinning smugly. Colin could feel his muscles practically vibrating with his desire to beat the shit out of that bastard, but the chains kept him still. He didn’t say a word as Jack pulled him back into an upright position against the wall. Not even when his sore, abraded skin brushed against the rough concrete. Jack paused to stare into his eyes, raising an eyebrow to give him a pointed look.
“Think about that the next time you want to get smart with me, motherfucker.”
* * *
Colin hadn’t spoken a word since then. So far his silence had made things easier, although they certainly didn’t leave him alone. There were still gropes and pinches, but Colin kept his mouth shut and tried not to react. There was no point in provoking anything. Some part of him felt guilty for keeping quiet -- it felt a little too much like giving up. Colin shoved the guilt away, telling himself that this was about survival.
**Oh is it? Is it really?
Or is it just about not getting hurt anymore? Maybe you just don’t want to risk another one
of those humiliating spanking sessions.
Maybe you’re just fucking lazy.
Maybe you’re weak and scared and too damn useless to get Ryan out of
this place. Hmmm? You think that could be it?**
Colin shushed the whispering voice harshly. He would get Ryan out of here. Somehow. And until then, he needed to stay in relatively good condition. Getting himself beaten, or...anything else...wouldn’t do Ryan any good. And of course he was afraid of getting hurt! There was no shame in that. No one wanted to get hurt. He wasn’t giving up, he was...being practical. Yeah. Practical.
Colin told himself that a lot.
Nudging Ben with an elbow, Jack nodded toward Colin and said, “Go on, Benny, remember what Chris taught you? Remember the way he did it with--“ Jack stopped suddenly at glanced over his shoulder nervously, and then glared at Colin momentarily. Colin only looked at him in confusion, not sure what was going on. Jack narrowed his eyes, and then seemed to shake off his worry, saying, “That was pretty funny, for a second I was sure he was gonna get bitten.”
Ben moved forward, a bit of bread soaked in broth in his hand. He held it up to Colin’s face, waving it enticingly. When Colin leaned forward, unable to resist the appetizing smell, Ben yanked his hand back, grinning and giggling nervously.
“Ah ah ah...pet...you have to ask nicely.” Casting a glance over his shoulder to receive an approving look from Jack, Ben turned back to Colin and continued. “You have to say, ‘please may I have some, master Ben?’” Colin set his jaw stubbornly, refusing to play this game. He couldn’t help but notice what Jack had said about ‘Remember the way he did it with...’ Did this mean that Ryan was being fed the same way? That he was still alive and able to eat, at least? Colin concentrated on that thin hope, trying to ignore his stomach’s rumbling. It had been a long time since his last meager feeding, and it was all he could do to keep from desperately trying to snatch the bread from Ben’s hands.
“Come on, pet...do as I say...I know you’re hungry. It’s not so much to ask...such a simple thing, to get what you need.” Ben’s cajoling voice was weakening Colin’s resistance, and his pride was losing to his hunger. Telling himself that he needed to stay healthy so he could get out of here, Colin swallowed his pride.
“PleasemayIhavesome,masterBen,” he spat through gritted teeth, glaring at his captors. Ben nodded and moved his hand forward, but Jack pulled his arm back just before Colin would have gotten the food.
“Now you know Chris wouldn’t let any of *his* pets get away with asking like that. Look at the disobedience in his eyes!” Jack said, indicating Colin’s glare with a wave of his hand. “You need to make him mean it, or it’s no good.”
Colin felt anger flare in his belly again as he thought of Ryan being forced to beg this way. Jack’s supercilious attitude had a way of immediately getting under his skin, but Colin was actually glad of the man’s big mouth this time. If Chris was feeding Ryan, then he must be alive. Of course, it was possible that Chris had another pet, or that Jack and Ben were just playing with him, lying about everything -- but Colin refused to think that way. Ryan was alive. Ryan HAD to be alive.
Ben turned back to Colin, with a pouting, childish look on his face. “Yeah, you didn’t mean it! You were just pretending to ask nicely. You better say it and mean it, or no food for you!”
With a considerable effort, Colin marshaled all of his acting skills and pasted a subservient look on his face. Reminding himself that this was for Ryan, and his own health, Colin asked contritely, “Please may I have some, master Ben?”
Accepting the question as sufficiently obsequious, Ben gave him the bread. He pulled another piece from the bowl in Jack’s hands, and then turned again, holding it up. Colin licked his lips, his body already responding to the food by demanding more. He opened his mouth for the next piece, but Ben held back, looking at him expectantly. Colin’s pride tried to well up again when he realized he had to beg for every single bite, but he shoved it back down harshly.
Anger for his own humiliation and for the thought of Ryan being treated the same way coursed through Colin’s nerve endings, making his fists clench and his stomach tighten. His dark, intense eyes flashed wildly, but Colin showed no other sign. He had to eat, to maintain his strength, for when he got Ryan out of this place. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he thought of little else. Instead of railing helplessly at Ben’s authority, Colin asked nicely for the food again. And again. Every time he had to beg, he felt like he was losing a little piece of himself, but Colin kept going. For Ryan -- always, for Ryan.
When the humiliating feeding was over, Ben, very much daring, held out his fingers to Colin and instructed him to lick them clean. Jack raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised at Ben’s initiative, but he smiled approvingly. Colin’s first impulse was to bite, but he knew that would only mean another nauseating groping session -- and maybe more.
Closing his eyes for a moment in helpless misery, Colin opened his mouth and allowed the invasive fingers to enter. The foreign flesh in his mouth made his stomach turn, and Colin found himself wondering if this was how Ryan had felt. He didn’t actually lick the fingers -- no amount of swallowing his pride would allow that. Luckily, Ben seemed satisfied with the lack of resistance, and after an intolerably long time, he withdrew his hand. Colin stared at the ground, too humiliated by the whole feeding and finger-cleaning process to meet their eyes.
Throwing an arm around Ben’s shoulders, Jack led him out of the room. He did take the time to give Colin a firm smack on the ass first though, just to see his head jerk up in frightened surprise. Colin stared at them, aware that he looked scared and resentful, but unable to help it. Jack snickered as he caught the look, glancing back over his shoulder to give Colin one last leering grin before he left.
Alone again, Colin immediately spat on the ground, trying to get the feeling of those fingers out of his mouth. Unbidden, a thought came to his mind -- Helping Hands. How many times had he had his fingers in Ryan’s mouth? Too many to count. How could that contact feel so comfortable, and this one feel so repugnant? Colin shook his head helplessly, closing his eyes in an effort to get some rest. Being chained in an upright position against the wall was very awkward...his whole body hurt. The cold made him shiver almost constantly, which was also draining. Exhaustion warred with mental turmoil and physical pain, leaving Colin in a half-sleep state, his mind wandering aimlessly.
**God, Ryan, where are
you? Miss you so much. What the fuck is that son of a bitch doing to
you? I... I need you, Ry... I can’t stop
shaking. I need you so much. Please be all right! Please?
They keep coming back to me...keep touching me...stop it! Why won’t they leave me the fuck alone? Is anyone here? I don’t know... I don’t care...all I care about is you. What are they doing to you? How much worse is it than what they’re doing
to me? Probably a lot... God, I hope not. If that bastard hurts you, I swear I’ll
fucking tear him apart. No one hurts my
best friend! I’ll...do something. Don’t know what. I need to get out of here...need to be warm
and safe again. I hate being so fucking
helpless...are you cold too? Did they
take your clothes? Hate that...feel so exposed...what if they come back? They’ll touch me again! No more, please! I can’t take anymore. I have to find a way out...somehow...has to
be a way. I can’t just stay here like
this! Can’t...have to...oh, Ryan, I need
you so fucking bad. Need you here with
me. I’m so fucking scared...please,
where are you? Are you all right? You have to be! Can’t let them hurt you...can’t let them hurt
me...got to get away. Wish I could feel
your arms around me...so strong. You’ve
gotta be strong, Ry...don’t let them get to you. I swear I’ll find a way out of here. Swear I’ll see you again. My Ryan...need to
see you, to hold you. But they won’t let
me... Bastards! I hate them...so much...I’m gonna make them
to suffer for doing this! Got to get out of here...think of something...Ryan. Can’t think of anything but
you. Want to see you so
bad...want to be with you again. Where
are you Ry? Help me...please...**
* * * * *
Colin didn’t have to wait much longer for his opportunity to get away. The next time someone entered his cell, he wasn’t surprised to note that it was a single person, instead of two. Sometimes Jack came in alone, and Colin felt his body tense in reaction. Jack alone was always bad, because he tended to do absolutely everything short of actually raping Colin. The intruder was lingering in the doorway, and Colin squinted, wishing for the umpteenth time that he had his glasses. When the figure moved closer, Colin’s eyes widened as he recognized Ben. The one who was never left alone with him -- the slow-witted, easily manipulated, strangely childlike one. Colin’s mind immediately began whirling, trying to find a way to use this to his advantage. Who knew when such an opportunity might arise again?
“Hi Benny...”
Ben paused, surprised by the greeting, and even more surprised by the low, sultry tone of voice it was delivered in.
“Um...hi...pet,” he replied slowly, trying to look masterful but only coming off as nervous.
“I’m glad you decided to come in alone...I hate when Jack touches me, you know,” Colin purred, watching Ben’s reaction carefully. The strangely intense man seemed to be enthralled, but wary, and Colin forced himself to go slowly. He couldn’t rush this, or he might lose his one chance. “Why don’t you touch me more, Benny? I’d like that...”
“Wha...you...you would? Really?” Ben was blinking in confusion; still not sure whether he should believe Colin.
“Oh, yes indeed,” Colin replied, and then paused, frantically trying to think of the right thing to say. Ben was slow, but fiercely loyal to Chris, to the point of hero-worship. He wanted to be just like that psychotic bastard -- that was it. The first real hope ran through Colin as he saw the key -- and seized it. “You’re such a good master...just like Chris!”
Ben’s eyes lit up, and a huge grin split his face. Colin tried to avoid showing his excitement, keeping his eyes downcast in a pose of submission. Ben stepped forward, putting a possessive hand on the back of Colin’s neck. “Yeah, I am...and you’re my pet, and I can touch you if I want to!” Colin felt a twinge of nervousness at this, and he spoke quickly, trying to maintain control of the situation.
“I just wish I could touch you, Master Ben...” he said wistfully, casting a deliberately flirty look up through his eyelashes. Ben grinned at the title, his chest puffing visibly.
“You can touch me, pet. Go ahead!”
“But I can’t, Master Ben...these chains are in the way.” Colin paused carefully -- this was the most delicate part of his plan. He could feel time slipping away so fast, and he was painfully aware that Jack could walk in at any moment. He wanted to grab Ben and scream at him to follow the hint, make the connection, but the man was just standing there, listening to his plodding thoughts. Finally Colin couldn’t stand it anymore, and he added desperately, “But if you were to take the chains off, then I could do exactly what you said...like a good pet!”
Colin could see the light dawn in Ben’s eyes as he finally understood what his captive was asking. Realization turned to a confused frown as Ben slowly shook his head, saying, “Oh, I don’t know, Chris wouldn’t like that...”
“But...but, the chains are to control me, right? And you don’t need them, because you’re my master, right?” Colin tried to keep the pleading edge out of his voice, striving to sound calm and rational. Ben was still shaking his head, but he looked like he was thinking about it. “Please, Master Ben, I want to touch you...to be with you. You’re so hot, I want to touch you right now!” Ben still looked uncertain, and Colin tried one last desperate tactic. “I’ll prove it! Kiss me! I never let Jack kiss me, but I want you to do it, cause I want you, Master Ben! Please!”
Ben was finally swayed, and he grinned suggestively, lifting Colin’s chin with a fingertip. “I knew it...you’ve wanted me from the start, haven’t you? My pet...” Smugness practically oozing from his pores, Ben leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against Colin’s. Closing his eyes reflexively, Colin did his best to return the kiss, difficult considering he’d never kissed another man before. Well, except Ryan, but that was totally different, and not just because it was on stage. After all, this kiss was just an act too; he certainly didn’t *want* to be kissing Ben. Ryan was different because his lips were warm and soft, while Ben’s were rubbery and too wet, but that wasn’t it either. It went beyond the physical differences, and Colin realized that kissing Ryan was different simply because it felt good...sweet, and right, and natural. Even though they’d only done it on stage. With Ben, it was disgusting and he had to force himself to respond, but with Ryan...he thought briefly that it would be the other way around. He’d have a hard time *not* responding.
After what seemed like forever, Ben finally broke the kiss, smiling triumphantly. Colin forced a dazed smile onto his face, and looked at Ben adoringly. From the inside, it felt like the weakest acting job he’d ever done, but Ben seemed to eat it up. Colin was terrified that they would be interrupted before his effort could pay off, making the whole disgusting kiss worthless. Quickly, before common sense could penetrate the cloud of smug satisfaction that surrounded Ben, Colin pressed his plan further.
“Oh, yes Master Ben, that was wonderful. Can’t I please touch you now? Please...I want you so bad!” The words sounded false to Colin’s ears, trite and meaningless, but Ben nodded, giggling happily. He quickly removed Colin’s wrist cuffs, and Colin threw his arms around Ben and begged him to release the ankles as well. Still giggling in excitement, Ben crouched to do just that.
Colin saw his chance. Ben was at his feet, fiddling with the ankle chain, his back exposed. Heavy metal chains still hung from the wall, and Colin silently curled one of them around his hands, creating a makeshift bludgeon. Lifting his arms high, Colin swung them down and connected the cold iron to the back of Ben’s head. The impact sent a jarring shock through his body, and Ben collapsed without a sound. Colin immediately bent down to remove the chains binding his ankles. They were locked.
Hands shaking, on the verge of panic, he pulled at them desperately for a few seconds before reason reasserted itself. Ben was going to unlock them; therefore, Ben must have a key. Colin gingerly rolled the unconscious man onto his back, freezing when Ben moaned softly. Colin stared at him for a moment and then grabbed the chain and smacked him with it again. Colin was shaking, glaring down at Ben, and it was hard to stop hitting him. He wanted to beat the unconscious man with the chain, make him bleed and break and...and never wake up. Colin dropped the chain, staring at it in horror. He scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to get a grip.
Ben continued to lay still, and Colin quickly felt his way through the other man’s pockets. Finding the keys on a ring in his hip pocket, Colin carefully pulled them out and started trying each one. There were at least ten keys on the ring, and Colin felt like time was just rushing past faster and faster. He was convinced that Jack was going to walk in any minute, and when he did, Colin would never get another chance to escape.
His trembling hands finally found the right key, and the lock turned, releasing his right ankle. Colin immediately surged to his feet, only to be stopped by the chain around his *other* ankle. With a muttered curse, he frantically applied the key to that cuff, but it wouldn’t turn. Panic was reaching its cold fingers into Colin’s mind, and he kept thrusting the wrong key at the lock, cursing it under his breath. Finally, he realized it must be a different key, and tried them all until he found the right one. Freed from his bonds at last, Colin took a deep breath and headed for the doorway.
A last minute idea occurred to Colin, and he turned back, looking at Ben’s unconscious form. Time was calling to him, frantically urging him to move, to get the hell out of here before something went wrong, but he forced himself to go back. Grabbing one of the chains that had so recently bound his ankles, Colin snapped it around Ben’s ankle. For good measure, he put the other ankle chain on Ben’s wrist, pulling him around slightly so the chain would reach. When he yanked on the man’s arm, his jacket fell open, exposing a shiny glint underneath. Colin paused, then moved the jacket and found Ben’s knife tucked inside. He quickly grabbed it and looked for a place to put it. That was when he remembered that he was naked.
Smiling slightly at the irony, Colin quickly stripped Ben of his jacket and pants, working with frantic speed. He was especially nervous when he had to temporarily remove the chains in order to get the clothes off, but Ben never stirred. After what seemed like forever, Colin was finally dressed, armed, and free. It felt amazingly good to be wearing clothes again, even if they were ill fitting. As the final touch, he cut off a swatch of Ben’s shirt and stuffed it in the man’s mouth, effectively gagging him. Knife in hand, Colin set off in search of Ryan.
* * *
~~~Ryan~~~
Ryan could still feel things, but not in the way the he had felt them in the beginning. The first time that sick fucker took him by force he had felt it very keenly. He could still remember the sense of terrible intrusion. He had struggled, thrashed hard against the chains, despite the way he was punished for fighting. The first time with the blade...
No. Don’t think about that.
Okay, not thinking about it. Ryan was, in fact, very good at thinking about nothing. It had been hard at first, to let his mind float away, but now it was just the opposite. Now it was hard to stay inside his head. The pain was grounding, in a way. It made things more real. In the rare times when the bastard wasn’t hurting him, everything got gray. Ryan worried about that, but only mildly. It didn’t really matter that much. Not a lot mattered anymore. Except for the blade, of course--
Didn’t we decide we weren’t going to think about that?
Ryan could still feel the tearing thrusts, and he wondered briefly just how badly he was being damaged on the inside. It wouldn’t be so bad if Chris ever let him heal from the first few times, but there were no breaks. Once, he had asked for some time without the pain, broken down and cried, begging for that psycho to stop. That was the first time that the blade had come out.
Stop it! No more with the blade. Just...stop it. Please?
It was no use. The image kept coming back, and Ryan let it come. Fighting was just too hard. He didn’t want to fight anymore.
* * *
“Please, please, stop it, I can’t take it anymore, please...” Ryan was sobbing, twisting his body away from the clutching hands, ashamed of his weakness but unable to help it. Chris raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly, nodding.
“Yes, you can. And you will. But this is an important milestone, pet. I think...yes. I think you’re ready for the next step.”
Ryan shuddered involuntarily, not knowing what the next step was but knowing it would be bad. Chris was smiling. That was always a bad sign. But to his surprise, Chris pulled out of him, giving him a firm smack on the ass in the process. Ryan didn’t flinch -- he knew perfectly well that flinching was against the rules. So was talking, but so far Chris hadn’t punished him for that.
Ryan swallowed, wincing at the pain in his dry throat. He could feel his breathing quicken as he watched Chris with wide eyes. Chris was at the edge of his vision, pulling something out of a cabinet that lay in the shadows beyond the reach of the single light bulb. Ryan could feel his abused muscles tensing as he watched Chris, and he sniffled slightly, still very close to tears. But they wouldn’t be tears, would they? No, his body needed the water too much to waste it that way.
Chris came back with his hands behind his back, walking slowly, almost strutting. His chin was lifted and his face had what Ryan had come to know as his hurting expression. It was a kind of light that came into his eyes, and his lips drew back slightly, not in a smile but something close. The sight of that expression made Ryan curl up as much as he could with the chains restraining him. The first time he had seen that look Chris had dripped something that burned terribly on his legs. He shivered uncontrollably, curling tighter and tighter as the younger man approached.
“Hush now, pet,” he said quietly. His tone held the pleased indulgence that a mother might show to her child at changing time. He began to unlock the chains that held Ryan’s wrists, leaving him held only by his ankles. Ryan glanced at him in confusion before quickly looking away again -- direct eye contact was seen as insubordination. He nearly shot to his feet, some residual part of his mind seeing an opportunity to escape, but he didn’t try it. Chris had shown him early on the futility of trying to escape. He had removed all but one chain around Ryan’s ankle and stood back, telling him to try his best. Every time Ryan even got close to Chris, he received a hard punch to somewhere soft. The bastard was deceptively quick. Before long, Ryan wanted to quit trying, but Chris wouldn’t let him. He insisted that Ryan keep struggling for (hours? a day?) until he was absolutely exhausted and covered with bruises. Ryan had learned the lesson well.
Still, when the chains were taken off his hands, his first instinct was to reach up and throttle that bastard. His arms actually lifted slightly, his hands curled into claws. Ryan yanked them back quickly, cringing in anticipation of another long ‘try to escape’ session. But Chris let it go...he seemed to be in a particularly forgiving mood today. Which only frightened Ryan even more.
“Don’t be frightened, pet. We’ve reached an important stage! I think you’re ready to be fucked without the chains. You just need a little...discipline.” He was still speaking in that happy, indulgent tone of voice, and Ryan felt his stomach twist as he hunched his shoulders. Chris never sounded happy unless he was about to do something terrible.
“Look at me,” Chris said, and Ryan obeyed without thinking. Obedience had been taught very early on. It wasn’t the pain that kept him from disobeying so much as the deprivation. Chris would deny him food, water, sleep, anything to make him cooperative. After the first few (hours? days?) awake, Ryan had been a shambles. Thought was replaced by a kind of skating awareness, and colors took on a strange echoing tinge. He wasn’t sure if it was the thirst, the hunger, or the exhaustion; but whatever it was, it made him obey now.
He looked up at Chris, and saw what looked like a lighter in his hand. Oddly enough, the first feeling the lighter produced in Ryan was an intense craving for a cigarette... something he hadn’t felt for a while. It took a few seconds for the thought that Chris intended to burn him to cross Ryan’s mind. When it did, his eyes widened, and he blurted out, “No! Don’t, please--“
Cutting himself off sharply, Ryan cringed in anticipation of some punishment for speaking. He ducked his head and curled his body, covering all his soft places instinctively. But Chris only chuckled, still smiling softly.
“No, no, pet...it’s not what you think. I’m far more creative than that.”
Ryan shivered again. He knew perfectly well how creative Chris was. The acid on his legs had only been the first of many little games. Chris liked to use Ryan’s own body to torture him. Feeding him just enough to keep the hunger awake and gnawing at his belly. Dripping water in his desperately opened mouth, allowing it to trickle down his throat, and then telling him that the water was laced with a powerful drug that would make him throw up everything he had just eaten. This, right after Ryan had finally been fed enough to feel, if not full, at least not starving anymore.
The vomiting had gone on until blood came from his torn throat. Ryan swallowed, taking controlled breaths and counting backwards until the nausea roiling in his belly settled again. It was never good to think about that particular experience.
“Look at me, pet,” Chris said again, jerking Ryan out of his unpleasant memories. Ryan looked up, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the smooth, manicured hands of his tormentor. Mustn’t look in his eyes. Never, never; don’t make him mad; don’t set him off again.
Chris was still holding the lighter, and in the other hand, what looked like a smooth piece of metal. Ryan squinted, trying to make out details in the dim light. His vision had been blurry of late -- and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the dehydration, or the exhaustion...maybe the world was getting blurry. Maybe everything was turning into water
(water, water, oh please, need some)
and swimming away. Maybe this dark hole in the ground would fill up and he would swim away. Maybe he would drown. Maybe that would be better.
Ryan bit his lip, trying to bring himself back to reality. It wasn’t that hard...not then. Chris flicked his wrist, and the metal thing in his hand snapped open. Ryan’s eyes widened when he realized it was a straight razor. He began shaking his head helplessly. No...surely he wouldn’t. Surely not. This couldn’t be happening.
“Yes, pet. It’s real,” Chris said, smirking. Ryan just looked at him, frantically trying to control his thoughts. He knew Chris couldn’t read his mind, of course he couldn’t, but...better not to think anything rebellious. Just in case.
Chris flipped the top of the lighter open, and some part of Ryan’s mind noted that it was a Zippo. Hey, the never fail, the old reliable, gotta love those Zippo lighters, oh yeah. His first lighter had been a Zippo, back when he was too young to buy cigarettes but did anyway, his height making him look older, or maybe the 7-11 clerks just didn’t care, let the kid get his cigarettes--
Okay. Back to earth. It was getting harder and harder to keep his mind steady. It seemed to get bigger and more diffuse over time, like a balloon being blown up. And the rubber sides get thinner and thinner, until... No. Just...don’t think about that. Think about what Chris is doing. What is he doing?
Chris was holding the razor in the flame from the lighter, just letting the metal sit right there in the flickering orange flame. Ryan could see the heat wavering in the air over the blade, and he backed away without thinking. No...Chris wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.
He did.
* * *
Ryan bit his lip, hard, to keep from making noise. It hadn’t taken many cuts for him to learn that particular bit of discipline. And that sick fucker was right about being ready to be raped without the chains. There was still an ankle chain, of course, but the rest were gone. All Chris had to do was order him to assume the position, and Ryan did as he was told. It didn’t really bother him so much anymore. When it started, he would just let his mind float away.
Not all the pain was so easy to escape from, though. The pain of rape was nothing compared to the blade. Ryan would do anything to avoid that. Sometimes that bastard would make him choose. Would he rather have some water and allow himself to be cut, or go without, and avoid the blade? That was always a hard choice. Ryan’s throat hurt all the time now, and he couldn’t stand very well. Standing made him so dizzy.
Sometimes, he took the cuts, just so he could have the water. Chris always dealt it out so sparingly, making Ryan lick it out of his cupped palm. Sometimes that vicious fucker would cut him and make him lick up the blood, but there wasn’t much. The hot blade cauterized as it cut, so the bleeding was actually quite minimal. That kept him from passing out, so he could feel everything. Chris had explained all this, speaking like an artist explaining his painting.
Choosing whether to go thirsty or take the cuts, that was a hard choice. Choosing whether to fight the rape or accept it and maybe avoid cuts -- that was easy. Of all the things Chris did, the rape was probably the least painful. Of course, Ryan hadn’t felt that way in the beginning, but the beginning was very far away now.
Everything was very far away. Except for Colin. Colin was always there in the front of his mind, telling him not to give up. Ryan wanted to give up. Fighting was so damn hard, and he was so tired all the time. That damn asshole never stopped, never let up, never gave him time to recover or think. Not that thinking was something that Ryan did a lot of. Oh no, thinking had evaporated some time ago, leaving only a thin shell of instinct and reaction.
But Colin, he wouldn’t give up either. He harried Ryan relentlessly, don’t give up, fight him, fight it...sometimes Ryan wanted to yell at him to go away. Just go away and leave me alone. He could hear Colin when he (slept? dreamed?) during the times that Chris wasn’t there. Sometimes he could even see Colin, but he was always hazy and transparent.
Ryan thought that maybe Colin was dead, and he was seeing a ghost. He always shoved that thought away hard though. It couldn’t be. Colin was all he was fighting for now, so he had to be alive. Because if Ryan was fighting for nothing, he thought he really would go insane.
Sometimes he wondered if he already had.
But no, and no, and no again. Colin was alive. Even though Chris had been so angry with him, so angry...never make that psychotic bastard angry. Never never. Just be quiet, that’s the important thing. Quiet is what matters.
Ryan was dimly aware that someone was watching this time, as the sick fucker raped him, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t Chris and it wasn’t Colin, no one else mattered. He swallowed again, wincing at the pain in his throat. It was worse than the pain of the tearing intrusion into his body, worse even than some of the cuts. Ryan could feel his body getting weaker, and he thought that he should probably allow some cuts so he could get some water next time the sadistic bastard offered. But wouldn’t it be easier to just deny the offer?
Wouldn’t it be easier to let himself die?
Yes, yes it would. But Colin, always Colin, telling him to hang on, keep fighting. Go away, Colin. Leave me alone.
* * *
~~~Colin~~~
Colin had no idea what was running through Ryan’s mind at that moment. He wasn’t even sure what was running through his mind. Conscious thought had been replaced by sheer emotional reaction as he took in the scene below the single hanging lit bulb.
Jack was standing a few feet away, his back to Colin as he watched his boss at work. Chris was stripped from the waist down, his pants lying in a pile off to one side. The gun rested on a small folding table, which was set up close by. Ryan was completely naked. Chris was behind Ryan, brutally forcing himself into the helpless man with rough, tearing thrusts. Ryan’s jaw was clenched in pain, his face a picture of misery, his eyes open and unseeing, but he was eerily silent.
As he took in the scene, Colin felt shock hit him like a punch in the stomach and his body shook violently in reaction. He half-raised his fists, gritting his teeth and staring at Chris furiously. Colin wanted -- needed -- to charge in and stop this assault, but the thinnest thread of reason held him back. His self-control was wavering badly though, and his breathing came in harsh, ragged gasps. The look on Ryan’s face...the blood and bruises...Colin could think of nothing else but stopping the brutal rape. He could feel his body wanting to rush forward, and he shut his eyes briefly, trying to maintain control. Some rational part of his mind was trying to tell him that he couldn’t win if he didn’t plan this right, but it was rapidly being eclipsed by his need to do something -- anything -- to tear that fucking psycho away from Ryan. Then, as Colin watched in horrified shock, the tiniest of sobs escaped Ryan’s lips. Chris immediately paused, shaking his head ruefully.
“Oh, and you were doing so well this time, my pet. Too bad.” The words were regretful, but the tone was not -- it was, in fact, almost eager. Still keeping his dick buried to the hilt in Ryan’s bleeding body, Chris reached over to the table, where something was resting next to a lit candle. When he lifted it, Colin could see it was a pearl-handled straight razor, and that the blade was red-hot from sitting in the candle flame. His eyes half closed in a sick, twisted pleasure, Chris slowly and deliberately drew the razor’s edge in a careful line down Ryan’s back. There was an audible hissing sound as the heated blade effortlessly slipped through Ryan’s skin. As he cut, Chris thrust forward slightly with his hips, his moan mingling with the soft whispering sound of Ryan’s skin burning.
Colin bit his hand to muffle his gasp, watching in horror and renewed shock as Ryan’s whole body stiffened in agony. His back arched and his head thrashed from side to side, but Ryan still remained perfectly silent. Colin saw a trickle of blood run down Ryan’s chin -- he had bitten through his lip to keep from crying out. The sight of that blood was the last straw for Colin. His battered self-control snapped, and a red haze descended over his vision. He was dimly aware of a rushing sound echoing in his ears. All reason and planning was swept away in a torrent of pure fury. Colin flew around the corner like a wild animal, screaming in rage, thrusting the knife ahead of him and heading straight for the monster that was hurting his best friend.
Jack only looked up in time to see Colin blow by him, and he stood still in confusion for a few seconds. That was all the time Colin needed to tackle Chris, who was hindered by the hot blade in his hand and the fact he was still inside Ryan. Colin waved the knife wildly, moving without thought or skill, bent on hurting Chris as much as possible. It was sheer luck that landed the blade in the bastard’s thigh, and Chris twisted away in pain, pulling the knife out of Colin’s hands. Ryan, still on his hands and knees, turned and met Colin’s dark, wild eyes. The moment stretched out timelessly -- Chris was still turning away, Jack just starting to move forward, and everything seemed to freeze. Even the candle flame danced more slowly as Colin and Ryan stared into each other’s eyes.
Colin felt some strange emotion reach up and clutch at his chest, making him catch his breath. All he wanted was to rush forward and hold Ryan in his arms, and never let him go. Ryan’s shimmering green eyes held the same wish, and Colin actually started to lift his arms in anticipation.
That was when the smooth click of the gun being cocked broke the spell. Suddenly, everything was moving fast again, and Colin turned to see Chris leveling the gun at him, cold certainty in his eyes.
Now Colin felt like he was the one moving in slow motion, instead of the others. He felt trapped in quicksand, unable to react to anything. The empty, dark hole at the end of the gun barrel seemed to grow, ready to swallow him. Colin stared helplessly, transfixed. He surely would have been lost...had it not been for the hurtling body that knocked him to the ground. Ryan stood in front of him, shaking visibly, his chin thrust out in defiance. His eyes dared Chris to shoot. Colin stared up at his best friend, gaping in awe. Not only had Ryan risked his life, he was standing up to the man who had surely terrorized him relentlessly. At that moment, Colin thought he had never loved Ryan more.
He had no time for such warm thoughts though, because Jack was suddenly on him, pulling him to his feet, and grappling for control. Colin struggled frantically, painfully aware that Chris and Ryan were still staring at each other, the loaded gun between them. He desperately hoped that Chris wouldn’t shoot his valued possession.
Ryan was hoping the same thing -- in fact, he was counting on it. The gun was still pointed at him, but Chris was hesitating. Then, as Ryan watched with baited breath, Chris seemed to come to a decision. He straightened his shooting arm, shaking his head regretfully, and began to tighten his finger on the trigger. Ryan leapt forward, grabbing the arm and wresting it to the side. He was weak from days of torture and little food, but Chris was hampered by the knife still in his thigh.
Ryan and Chris struggled for control of the gun, each man grabbing at it desperately. Behind them, Colin and Jack were fighting as well. Jack had the advantage of being well fed and rested, while Colin was driven by pure terror. Their struggles led them into Ryan’s line of sight, and he glanced over. Chris followed his gaze, and then shot a malicious look at Ryan. Yanking control of the gun away from him, Chris pointed it at Colin, only a few feet away. He couldn’t miss. In a panicked, desperate move, Ryan threw himself on Chris, hitting him just as he pulled the trigger. With a flash of light and a loud report, the gun went off.
End Part 5