Shakey Psyche

The Operative

Chapters 56-62

"You gotta be kidding, Doctor," John said, butting in finally.

"Extreme trauma has been known to work in cases of suppressed memories. Although, in one as young as Seth, it might do more harm than good." The doctor was still looking at me with that strange look of pity and concern.

"I think I can handle it, Doctor," I said with a slight smile. I showed him my wrists. "These aren't exactly marks left by someone kissing me."

The drive back to the house was in silence. I was contemplating what I was going to have to go through to get my memories back. If it wasn't so damn important that I know this, I wouldn't even imagine doing it. I wouldn't even care about not knowing, but there were sixty-three other boys to think about.

"I need to know, John," I told him as we pulled into the drive. "I'm the only one that can solve this."

"Why's it so important that you do?" he asked, leaning over the steering wheel, looking at me from there.

"Because if I don't, it could happen again," I reasoned.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "But let yourself heal before you do anything."

"That's reasonable."

So, I did. Over the next few days, I healed up from my wounds. John and I didn't even have sex during that time. His cock would be needed later for the session. God, I was dreading it. Contrary to popular belief among my friends, I don't like pain. At least not to the extent that I was going to have to take this to.

"Regular pain won't work with me, John," I said after being with him for a week.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that," he said. "After last week's session on the table."

Finally, about ten days after waking up on the beach, I figured that I'd healed up enough for what needed to be done. John had told me that they had a room that used to be used for interrogations a long time before, but hadn't been used in decades. I figured they'd stopped using it around the time of the Rodney King fiasco.

That morning, John took me to the precinct. Everything was set up with the commander and the doctor. Both would be there to make sure things didn't get too far out of hand. John would be there as well, of course.

"You're sure about this, Seth?" the commander was asking as I was standing in front of him when we got there.

"I need to do this, sir," I said, worried myself. "And, as much as I hate to say it, this can't stop until I get my memory back. No matter how much I beg and plead and scream. It doesn't stop."

"How will we know that?"

"You won't; I will."

I took my clothes off right there and handed them to John. He took my arms and tied them behind my back at the wrists and elbows with ropes. A noose was fit over my head and tightened around my throat. From there, he pulled me from the office and I was led to the stairs going downward.

The stairs ended at a door which opened up into the cells where the inmates were held for trials. As John led me through the room, every one of the prisoners shouted cat-calls, whistles, and screams of humiliation at me. Some threw food at me as we walked. When we got to the other side, it was a welcomed respite from that beginning. The next set of stairs led down further into the bowels of the Earth. It was two levels of walking downward before we went through another door. It opened up into the room that would be the chamber for my torment.

It was very similar to the punishment rooms back at the facility. There were hooks on the walls for chains, grates on the floor, and instruments of torture in different areas throughout the room. Basically, it was pretty much what I expected, needed, but didn't want.

"Last chance, Seth," he said, turning towards me.

"Now, you tell me," I answered back, flipping my hair to get some food out of it. We shared a smile together and then I got serious. "I need to do this."

He nodded in return.

"One word of warning," I said before he stood. "I will fight you."

"Understood."

He then pulled me to the middle of the room where my ankles were pulled apart and shackled to the floor over the grate running the length of the room. Then another set of shackles were applied to my arms right above the ropes tying my elbows together. I thought that my arms were going to be pulled upwards, but they weren't. John got a smaller rope to tie to my wrists and then through my legs, attaching it to my balls. Once that was done, the chains leading to the shackles on my upper arms were pulled tight, lifting me off the ground and pulling on my nuts.

"Agghh," I cried as the chain got to the limit of my body's taughtness.

From there, a hood was put over my head. John patted my butt and then left me to an empty room. Time passed, but nothing happened. Or, at least I thought nothing happened. After some time, I realized that the room was getting hotter, steamier. Sweat began running off my body, steadily dripping onto the floor.

Then, without warning, I heard a hissing sound, and my feet and legs felt like they were on fire. Steam erupted from the floor. The room got even hotter. But, no one touched me.

In my mind, I knew what they were doing. They were slowly, steadily wearing down my defenses; weakening me.

Soon enough, someone walked inside.

"Are you thirsty?" It was John.

"Fuck you," I growled back. Kindness wasn't what was needed here, unfortunately.

I didn't know how long I'd been in there, but my resistance was still up. Time wasn't all that important, anyway. Only results mattered in this case. Only answers. I had them, but I couldn't get to them. They were going to have to make me get them. And it wasn't going to be easy.

"Not nice, bitch," he answered.

I was lowered back down to the ground. He removed the shackles and ropes from my ankles and wrists. I was forced to my knees and then down to the ground, on my belly. The hood was torn off my head, but he had me by my blond hair. I opened my eyes to see him, and he had that look on his face. And then his cock touched my backdoor.

"Remember this?" he asked.

"How could I forget something so small?"

John's cock was inside me before I had another thought go through my head. I screamed at the suddenness of it. It didn't stop him. Another thrust and he had all of his manhood deep inside my being. I screamed again.

"Not so small, eh?"

"You wish, Tripod," I hurled back at him through gritted teeth.

Both of us knew better. His slightly longer than ten inch [25 cm] tool laid into me extremely rough for what seemed like forever. When he finally came, he pulled out and sprayed my back and butt. Pushing himself off my back, he returned a second later with a rope and a collar. After putting the collar around my neck, he forced my arms behind my back with my wrists together again. But, this time, they were tied and pulled up as high as they could go, touching my spinal column between my shoulder blades. My hands were so high up, that my fingers were able to touch the base of my neck. The rope was then tied off to the collar.

I was then yanked to my feet where a harness was about to be wrapped around my body. I was weakening, but I wasn't so weak that I couldn't fight back. And I did. I raised up and kneed John in the face, causing his nose to bleed. He backhanded me hard, sending me flying across the room.

"Do that again, and I'll make you pay for it a lot worse, bitch," he growled, pulling me up by the arms.

"Go fuck yourself, asshole," I spat back at him as he put me on my knees again.

"Boy, you got a mouth on you. Time to really use it."

He yanked my head back hard and shoved his cock into my mouth.

"One tooth, and you'll leave here without them."

John jammed all of himself into my oral orifice, getting it down my throat. I gagged, but it didn't stop him. When he was sufficiently hard enough, he began fucking my throat hard with his cock. He shoved it all the way in each time, making my nose hit his pubis with every stroke. It was like he wanted to touch my stomach with it.

"Fuck, yeah," he cooed all the while.

When he got bored with doing that, I was turned around for another anal rape. Making me feel each and every inch, John took me for a second time. I groaned at the violation, but could do less than nothing about it. My own dick was getting scraped on the stone floor each time he pounded into me. He didn't finish that time, but it wasn't from lack of trying. He eventually tired out and pulled his pole out of me.

After he did, he pulled me back to the middle of the room. My legs were spread apart and shackled to the floor. I was picked up again and a cable was attached to the back of the collar where my hands were tied. Then he reach through my legs from behind and the cable was attached to the rope around my nuts. The slack in the cable was taken out at the same time that my nuts were pulled backwards.

I realized right then that if my head went down, it put stress on my already abused nuts. The hood was then replaced over my head. He slapped me across the face again, and then walked out of the room. Moments later, a load of hot steam came up from between my legs, burning my legs, nuts, and butt.

I screamed.

It was then that I felt it; the memory of a cock inside me, filling me while a belly pressed against my back. More steam was released, causing a significant amount of pain to my tender underside. And I yelled again. Though the pain released the memory, it also took it away from me again. I remembered nothing else beyond that.

The room became increasingly sweltering. Every bit of it was like being in a swampland. I lowered my head down, forgetting about the cable, and my nuts were pulled backward, painfully. I straightened back up. The blasts of steam stopped, but the room's temperature didn't stop rising.

"STOP!!!" I bellowed. It was getting to be too much, but no one was listening. The room got hotter and hotter.

I felt faint at one point, but didn't drop. I was just lightheaded. A few minutes later, I did relax my body, only to pull on my seared nuts again. I stood back up. The trick was working, I was torturing myself. With no relief in sight.

Then suddenly, blasts of ice-cold water hit my body. It was like needles shooting into me. And I screamed again. I actually screamed myself hoarse, eventually only letting out a few tiny squeaking noises. The jets didn't stop for the longest time, pelting me all over the place. Even in the face; soaking the hood. It made it difficult to breathe, but I did manage to get some sort of oxygen.

When they stopped, my body sunk down, pulling on my nuts once again. So, I had to stand back up. Up, down, up, down; exhaustion, pain, exhaustion, pain. I don't know how long it lasted, but when someone finally opened the door, I almost thanked them. I didn't know what they were there to do to me, but whatever it was, it had to be better than what I was getting. I was wrong.

Whoever it was, took a cane to my butt as hard as possible. I felt a new sensation of pain, causing me to squeak out another scream. This person didn't stop until I was a blubbering pile of flesh, begging for it to be over with. They never spoke; it was the torture and nothing else. I didn't bother keeping up with how many times he caned me, because it didn't matter; he was going to keep going no matter how many times I pleaded for it to end. When he was done, he rubbed something all over my skin. It smelled like mint eucalyptus and was warm on initial contact. Moments later, it got hot and kept getting hot.

"PLEASE," I asked, through my torn throat, "make it stop!"

The pain was unbearably tormenting. The person walked away, but not out of the room. A second later, he returned and stopped right beside me. I then felt the cane touch my dick.

"Please not that," I begged. It went unheeded.

The first swipe caused the worst amount of pain I'd ever felt in my life, even taking into account everything I'd gone through. And he wasn't finished. The cane struck my boyhood over ten times before it was done. I shrieked on each and every one of them. I couldn't help it.

You will respect me, boy.

Another tidbit memory, as the voice was different, but still unfamiliar. There were no faces or bodies to put to the voice, but the pain was waking up things more and more.

"Please, no more," I asked this person.

I got another swipe along the stalk of my cock from the cane. I found a new reservoir of screams. Although, I knew that they'd only just begun with me. And already, I was in more pain than I could imagine. I wondered just how much it was going to take for this to work.

This person nailed my unprotected sex one final hard strike. Done with that portion, he set the cane down, but returned momentarily. The same sports cream he'd used on my abused backside was applied to the welts on my cock. And I screamed again and again, going beyond begging for the stuff to be taken off the tender skin. No doing.

After some time of listening to me beg and plead with him, a strike hit my chest from the same type of cane. Pain erupted from my chest right below my nipples. Even through my sobs and screams, the cane continued raining down hit after hit on my chest. When he was done, more cream was applied, sending new sensations of pain through me.

I thought that when he was done with that, another part of my young body would be tormented, but it wasn't. I felt a finger trace along my cheek, and moments later, he left the room. And I was alone, in severe pain and thinking, but alone. The sports cream that had been smeared into my body's skin kept me from losing consciousness, from both the pain and the smell of it. I worked to get to the memories I'd already freed. Another line from the man I'd heard before came to me.

I love your tight ass, bitch, he'd said.

I felt his hands on my arms as his cock penetrated me from behind again. I was now becoming more familiar with his voice. The voice was one thing, but I needed to see his face. If I could get that far, just that one face, the rest would be unnecessary.

I remained in that position for some time before the door opened yet again. The footsteps closed in on me and released the cable from the collar. I sunk to the floor, exhausted. But rest wasn't what this person had in mind for me.

Grabbing me by my hair, he took his turn at having his way with me. It wasn't John; I knew his cock and this wasn't it. It was large, though. He pummeled away at me just as roughly, making me feel all of him with each thrust. His assault on my innards lasted longer than I'd thought it would, but he did finally finish inside me.

Done, he pulled out, but didn't leave. A bar was placed on my back and my ankles released. They were retied to the harness that had gone around my waist, putting me into a strained hogtie. I felt the harness being attached to the bar and then the sensation of being hoisted into the air. It wasn't far, but I was still suspended.

The man came back over and grabbed my head by the hood. It was callously yanked upward. Moments later, I felt liquid hit the fabric and it smelled like piss. He pissed into the hood until he was totally drained. My head was released and then he walked out.

Thanks for the fuck, boy, the man's voice said again in my head. But, I still couldn't make out a face.

I hung in midair, in my misery and pain for God knows how long. I thought about the voices more and more, trying to force a face to come to me, but nothing did. Even as tied up in the most uncomfortable position that I was, I knew that I'd eventually fallen asleep. I was jolted awake from the door opening and closing and my body revolting in agony at being bent painfully in half for so long.

I was lowered back down to the floor again and untied. But, if I thought for a second that this was an act of mercy, it was a lonely thought. My wrists were shackled again and I was pulled up by them to hang in the air. My legs were pulled apart and once more shackled to the floor, spread apart. When that was done, I was pulled to the limits of my young body.

Something cold and solid was shoved up my ass, and embedded in my rectum. From years of experience, I knew it had to be a buttplug. With that in place, something was placed around my dick all the way to my pubic region. I felt something like a strap go around my waist, making sure whatever was on my cock was staying put.

I know what this is. That one was my own little voice.

The machine was started up and instantly began sucking on my cock. A minute later, a jolt of electricity shot through my guts, causing my sphincter to tighten until it passed. I tried ejecting the plug, but the harness was placed over it, to keep it inside me.

Trying to control my own body, I worked to keep from cumming. But, there was no way I could stop it. The milking machine took me to the brink way too soon and I climaxed. The heartless machine didn't stop, though. It kept working my prick back to full strength and then to a second orgasm.

My prostate was shocked time and time again by that damn plug that was up my butt. By the time I hit my fourth climax, I was begging for this to be over. Every defense was being torn down. Every wall was being shattered. Every ounce of strength was being sucked from my body as if it went into the tube surrounding my cock.

On the fifth one, I screamed at the pain of it. There was just no reasoning with a machine; cold and heartless.

Ah, music; sweet music.

More and more dialogue was coming to me, but it was in bits and pieces. The more pain I went through, the more I got. I didn't want any more pain, but I didn't want it to stop, either. This mystery had to be solved, and soon, before I lost was left of my mind.

"Hello, Seth," a cool voice said as it entered the room.

I'd just shaken from my sixth painfully dry orgasm and I begged the commander for it to stop. The machine was turned off, but not removed from my boyhood. I was grateful for the reprieve. The hood was removed from my head. The first time in what felt like forever since I'd smelled fresh air.

"How is it going? Got anything?" he asked.

"A few things," I gasped.

"I hate this, Seth," he said. I looked up at him and he had a look of utter pity on his face.

"So do I, but I have to do it."

He gave me some water to drink, which helped a lot. The hood was replaced, and the machine restarted. I groaned almost immediately. The damn thing made me cum three more excruciating times. As it was working on getting me up to my tenth climax, someone else entered the room. I also just got a huge jolt from the plug.

The machine was stopped and pulled off me. I gasped at the sensation.

I may never get hard again.

When I was let down, I just flopped to the ground and didn't move. But, it wasn't over. The man that had released me, pulled the plug out of my ass and replaced it with his cock. I groaned again at the intrusion, but otherwise remained still and complacent. He drilled all the way inside and then began fucking me in earnest. It lasted longer than I would have believed, but it finally ended.

After this one was done with me, my wrists were shackled to the floor, palms down. Something was put over them to keep my hands from being able to be knotted up into fists. The hood was ripped off my head, but almost instantly, a blindfold was placed over my eyes; I didn't see much more than a blinding light.

This guy then pulled my hair back and tied it up to itself into a knot. A moment later, my legs were bound at the ankles by some sort of cuffs; leather, I think. A hook was then shoved heartlessly into my torn hole, with the external part running up my tailbone.

I put it all together as to what he was going a moment later when my legs were pulled upwards behind my back. A rope went through the knot in my hair and tied to the hook in my butt. It was then pulled so tight my back felt like it was about to crack. I groaned at the extreme bend I was put into. My knees were tied together, and he left the room.

Seconds later, I screamed again from steam coming from the floor and lancing my hands. I tried again to make my hands into fists, but it was no good. I just kept yelling until it stopped. When it did, nothing happened. It was stagnation. I flinched at one point, pulling on my legs and it pulled just as hard on my hair and butt.

I thought I might actually die from all that they were doing to me. There wasn't an area on my body that didn't hurt from being whipped, steamed, or abused in some way.

I struggled to get more from the voice, but only got more silence.

I don't know how long I stayed like I was, but it felt like a day past eternity. I was actually grateful when I heard the door open again. That was, until I felt the cane hit the bottoms of my upturned feet. I didn't stop shrieking the entirety of the foot-caning. I know it lasted longer than ten strikes, but how long exactly, I'm not entirely sure. But, when it was over, the man just left the room.

There was no way in hell I could get any rest or sleep in the position I was place in, so I just had to endure it. Totally awake, I had to suffer through it. Some time later, my hands were hit with another blast of hot steam, causing me to scream some more. I was getting beyond the point of wanting this to end. But, however long it was, no more information came my way before the next person took his turn with me.

The very second I was untied, I flopped forward to lie dead still on the floor. Waiting. The shackles, cuffs, ropes, and hood was removed from my body. And even though the blindfold was removed, I kept my eyes closed. It was then that I felt this one climb onto my back and his body weigh down on top of me. His cock began invading my hole almost immediately. I groaned upon initial penetration, but that was all.

When he'd gotten his cock all the way inside for the first time, I knew the man was black. His kinky-curly pubic hair was the telltale sign of it. But even with his large cock up inside me, I still couldn't do much more than lie there and take it. I was just too worn out and tired.

"All the fight gone outta you, boy?" he asked.

A fuzzy outline of a face came into view as I closed my eyes.

"That all you got, Nigger?" I wheezed out to him.

He stopped fucking me for the briefest of seconds. I got a hard slap upside the head for an answer. And another one to my back. That was followed by an extremely hard shove of his huge cock inside me, causing pain all the way up to my stomach. I hissed at it, but didn't say anything more.

"Feel that, bitch?" he practically shrieked at me.

From there, it was nothing short of a brutal rape on my insides. He didn't stop his manic thrusting until he came, and that wasn't quick. When he was done, he yanked me up by only my hair and dragged me across the room. I was then bound to a sawhorse similarly to the way Bull was in Afghanistan. My upper arms, wrists, ankles, knees and thighs were bound to the legs of it. The harness that was on my waist was also secured to the bench.

I didn't bother looking to see what he was going to do next. But, I heard something being wheeled over to me and placed to my rear. A moment later, and something as hard as a cock was being stuffed inside my asshole. At that, I had to turn around to see what was about to go on. It was a dildo larger than anything else I'd ever had inside me attached to a machine with a crank motor on it.

"Fuck, NO!" I screamed at him, knowing how that thing would tear me apart.

I only got a sneer in answer. He flipped a switch, and the dildo thrust inside me; hard, indeed, tearing me apart. But, it didn't stop. The gears pulled it back out again almost instantly. It sawed into me, and then even more so once it had gotten all of it into me. The black man changed the setting, and from there, it just tore into my hole like nothing was there. He pulled a leather strap down and as the fucking machine bore into me, he brought the strap down across both cheeks of my unprotected ass with all of his strength.

"AAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" I screamed to the top of my ripped throat.

"Call me a nigger, bitch?"

Take that, bitch!

Another lash, harder than before, landing on the same spot. I cried even louder.

"STOP IT!" I shouted, unable to take any more abuse.

"Fuck you, bitch," he growled and lashed me again.

Fuck you, you fucking bitch!

The machine never slowed down. And my ass, inside and out, was being torn apart. Another lash, followed by several pumps of the dildo in me.

Damn, the whole thing hurt like hell, but the memories began flooding my mind with more and more clarity. He kept hitting me with that strap, reddening an already red ass, then turning it purple, and then I saw blood come from the area.

He stopped, knowing he'd gone too far with it. He dropped the strap onto the floor and then looked at his handiwork. I saw him cover his mouth as he exited the room. And the machine continued laying into me. I was alone in that room for an ungodly amount of time, enduring a sodomizing that any whore on the street would be begging for mercy. But, it didn't stop.

Call it exhaustion, call it going beyond the point of extreme endurance, whatever, but at some point, I passed out. It was right then that I saw the man's face as clear as day. But, it wasn't just that one face I saw. I saw and remembered everything I'd gone through over that time. It was like a door opening on a room I'd never visited before.

Everything came back to me.

When I woke up, I'd rather not have. Every fiber in my being cried out for mercy. I was lying on my back, which hurt, but I couldn't move to turn over to give it some relief. Only because it was probably the right thing to do, I opened my eyes. I was wrong; it was the wrong thing to do.

"Good morning, Seth," Parker said, but was not smiling.

"It was," I retorted. "What're you doing here?"

If I'd jabbed him in the eye with a needle, I doubted that I could have pissed him off any more. He was at the bed in an instant.

"One of my best operatives goes missing for over two months and then when he's found he has the nerve to ask what I'm doing here?" he practically hissed at me. His eyes were bugging out of their sockets and his face was redder than a turnip. "If you weren't in this bed, you'd be in the punishment room for the next week, boy!

"Now, explain yourself!"

I really thought about just keeping my mouth shut. Let him torture me some more. After all that I'd been through, he had the nerve to get angry just because I didn't report in to him.

"I needed to find out what happened to me on my own," I said back to him. I was trying to be as calm as possible, knowing that he probably had a contract out on me after I didn't report in to him. I wondered if he did nor not.

"What do you mean by that?"

I told him what happened when I woke up on the beach and meeting John and then having to go through the session just to remember what happened. It was then that a question popped into my head.

"Why didn't you talk to John about this?"

"All I knew was that you were in the hospital and someone had dropped you off. The only name they gave was yours. So, I don't know who this 'John Sanders' is."

"He's a cop with the LAPD. But never mind him for now. I know what happened. And if you'll refrain from getting Simon out to kill me, I'll tell you."

Parker took a deep breath to help himself calm down. When he was significantly calmer, he pulled out a recorder and told me to begin. I nodded and began regaling him the story of my two months… .

October--

I woke up from the dart's venom naked and tied up, naturally. But, I was tied tighter than I thought was possible. I was lying flat with my arms secured to my side and my legs together. Even my big toes were tied together. I couldn't move a muscle. Some sort of blindfold was over my eyes, blinding me, and a gag was preventing me from talking.

I noticed first that whatever I was in, was moving. I bounced with each and every hole the truck had hit. When the first one hit, I heard a muffled grunt come from below me, so that told me that I wasn't alone. The truck rolled on for the longest time. I wondered if I was going back to Afghanistan again.

When the truck finally stopped, I heard a door open from the back. Fresh air rushed into the truck immediately. It was a little cooler than what was inside the space we were in, but not by much. Also, it was fresher, which was always a plus. Someone came onto the truck. They began offloading us that were on the truck one by one. When I was taken off, I was carried out and set on the ground. I felt my legs freed and then one of the ropes used on my legs was put around my throat. After that, someone pulled on the rope, and I walked. The only thing I could conclude was that we were in a chain.

A moment later, we entered a building as I felt the temperature change. But, also, a door closed behind me a second later. We walked a few more steps, but then stopped. The blindfold and gag were removed and I saw that there were five boys in front of me, tied similarly. I looked to the right to see a large man that looked similarly unintelligent.

I smelled something rank and turned to see an odd sight. A frame was against a wall with a pedestal next to it. The pedestal was steaming hot with ten irons lying in it. I was cut off the chain first and taken to the frame. My arms were cut free by the stupid looking man, but then tied spread eagled to the wooden frame.

The man moved over to the pedestal and returned with an iron. I saw that the iron had a number 4 on it, in reverse. He grabbed my right shoulder and seconds later, I felt an intensely hot pain shoot out from my shoulder blade, causing me to scream to the top of my lungs. He held it there for an ungodly amount of time. The acrid smell was actually my burning flesh.

Finally, he removed it, to come at me with the number 7 iron. I screamed again as the number was branded right below the first one. When it was over, I was pulled off the frame and hauled over to a man next to the door. This other one tied my hands behind my back again and forced me to sit on the floor next to the exit.

The boy that was in front of me was next. His name was Anthony and he looked to be about seven or eight or so. Screaming even more than I did, he was branded with the number 48 on his shoulder.

When the last of the six of us were branded, we were put back into a chain, but with me in the lead. We were then led outside and to another building. I tried looking around to get a view of where we were, but got nothing of any real importance. Once we were in the building, I looked and saw the building was actually one room. And it was covered with blond haired boys. Ignoring my looks, he dragged me to the side and cuffed me to the wall with steel manacles. The other five were cuffed to places around the room.

From there, the two men left out the door they'd just brought us in by.

"Hello," the boy next to me said as I gingerly touched the brand on my shoulder. I hissed at the pain of it, but nodded back to him.

I took a moment to scan the room again. Most of the boys looked to be about my age or younger. Only a few appeared to be any older. I turned back to the kid next to me.

"How long you been here?" I asked.

"A few weeks, I think," he said, shrugging.

"Do you have a number, too?" He nodded and turned to show me a number '25' on his shoulder. "Do you know why we're here?"

"No," he answered, turning back to face me and shaking his head. His blond hair was curly and sort of bounced a little when he moved.

I frowned at his response. It meant that none of the men that were guarding us were talking.

Sure enough, that evening, when we were finally fed, not one of the men talked. One of the boys that came in with me asked, but was summarily slapped for asking. The rest of us took the hint and didn't say a word.

We were fed a meal in the morning and a meal in the evening. We were allowed one bathroom break a day, too. Otherwise, we were left to ourselves until the truck delivered another load of blond haired boys. It seemed to last forever, as there was nothing more to do but sit there in the bonds and wait.

I got to know a few of them. Tyler was the one next to me and he was from Las Vegas. Christopher, on the other side of me, was hailed from Tempe, Arizona. Sonny was a boy cuffed to a pillar right across from us, and he came from El Paso. All of them had the same story of being shot with a dart and then waking up on the truck.

The numbers of the brands increased as well. I kept count of both the numbers and the days I was locked up in there. It was two weeks and a few days when the number reached 64 with one lone boy named Mark.

"That's strange," I said, mainly to myself, but Sonny asked what I meant by that. "He's all by himself."

"So?" Tyler asked.

"We've all been brought here in groups, but that kid was a single. I wonder why."

I got my answer that evening. A man walked in the room wearing a nice set of clothes. He seemed out of place for this setting. When he spoke, it seemed as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"I will not waste your time by introducing myself or any of my men to you," he began. Most of the boys then sat up and paid attention. Mark was still whining about his shoulder too much to care. "However, I will tell you why you're here."

He cleared his throat once and then continued.

"You're here to be sold one at a time to some of my clients."

Figures.

"But also, you're going to entertain us by competing against one another. The winners of each competition will move onward. The losers will summarily be sold off upon losing. The final winner is released and is free to go."

"Yeah, right," I spat at him, with a few of the others echoing my dissent.

He turned towards me with a look of disdain.

"You have my word, Seth," he said calmly.

"And that means nothing to us, asshole," I countered. "You've taken us from our homes and families for your own twisted amusement and now you tell us that you'll just let us go when we're done."

"Only one of you will be released," he answered. "Only one; the rest will be sold."

He turned back to the general assembly to tell us we would begin in a week's time. After that, he turned and left, giving me one final look.

"You probably shouldn't make him mad, Seth," Tyler said once the men were gone.

"Who cares?" I growled. The fucker will get his.

So, our routine was unchanged over the course of the next week. During that time, I sized all the others up. Only a few of them seemed to look like they would give me problems in any competition. My edge was that I'd been fucked so many times that anything sexual, they were going to lose. I liked my chances at this winning a lot. Now, the only thing is, I wondered if he was going to keep to his word.

Probably not.

The first day that we were supposed to go up against each other, we heard a rumbling from outside. One of the boys asked about the noise.

"It's cars," I said to the general public.

"Can't be," another answered with, "it's too noisy."

"It can be if there are a lot of them."

The rumbling continued for the next few hours, and I knew it had to be cars arriving. It was like a sports gathering, but extremely illegal. I was curious about just how they kept things like this hidden. Finally, the stupid looking man came into the room with two others behind him.

We were lined up in order of our numbers, hands tied behind our backs, ropes tied to our ankles, but with loose lines to allow us to walk, and then ropes connecting us in line. As my number was one of the highest, I was towards the end of the line. When we were all connected, the first one, a younger kid, was pulled out of the room and into the sunlight.

In one long blond trail, we walked from the holding cell to a huge, flat building. The procession was a quiet one, with each of us worried and concerned about what was going to happen to us. The door we were led into opened into a room that looked like a jail cell, but larger. We weren't untied, at least not yet.

The barred door at the other end was opened and we were led out into an arena like setting. Cheers erupted when the first boy exited into the circle. The big man in the lead walked us around the center of a large oval, showing us off to the spectators. Jeers, cat-calls, shouts and taunts were hurled at each of us as we made the circuit.

Most of the other boys were looking at the ground or concentrating on the crowd's yells. I was looking at the four large poles in the center of the circle. At the top of each of them, were a set of shackles. Several of them were also on the floor. It took no imagination from me to know what was probably coming, but how were they going to make this into a contest?

The troop of boys was walked around and then we were pulled back into the cell where they took all the ropes off our bodies. As the ropes were being taken off, I heard just how they were going to make this a contest. A man's voice boomed throughout the arena, addressing the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, "now that all of you have seen the merchandise, you will now see the first event. It will be a test of endurance.

"Two boys will be secured to the poles and whipped. The first one to cry out the word 'stop' is the loser and will be up for bid immediately. The winner will be returned to the holding area for the next event."

Cheers erupted from the sadistic crowd. The sixty-four of us were stunned. The man in charge of us and three others took the first four numbers and left for the arena. The door was closed and all we could do was watch. The wall facing the arena was nothing but bars, so all of us had an unobstructed view of the contest.

All four boys were strung up the poles by their wrists. The shackles that were on the ground were attached to their ankles, but all four of them were still off the ground. The first one, youngest of the four, when he was left hanging, couldn't hold it any more and peed on the ground. The crowd laughed like crazy.

The man that was assigned to bind the boy was the one to dish out the whipping as well. Two men lined up behind the first two boys and got their whips ready. When the announcer told them to start, both men let loose with their whips, lashing both boys' backs. Both boys screamed, but neither cried out to stop. It took four lashes before the first boy cried for it to stop. He was given five more lashes by the head man as the second boy was let down from the pole.

The winner of that contest was led out of the arena, presumably for the main holding cell, while the loser was stood in the middle of the circle. The bidding began for him almost immediately. He was finally sold to a woman in the stands for forty thousand dollars. From there, they moved on to the next two boys to begin whipping.

As they were being tormented, the two other men came to the cell to get the next two in line. And so it went. At the nearest opportunity, I pulled Christopher, Sonny, and Tyler aside.

"You guys know we're pretty much fucked," I told them.

"All we have to do is give up, Seth," Christopher suggested.

"No, Chris," I told him, and the others agreed. "If one of us gives up, we're sold off and that life can't be good. We'll spend the rest of our lives getting fucked day in and day out. And only God knows what else they'll do to us."

"So," Tyler started, "what do you suggest?"

"Like I said; we're fucked."

By the time we were finished with our conversation, and the realization sank in on the rest of them, they were in the middle of whipping two boys with numbers in the middle teens. Soon, they came for Tyler and the boy he was competing against.

The boys that had just competed both took twelve lashes when number twenty-three called out for it to quit. Some quit almost immediately, while others held out longer. Each of us knew the price of losing, but only one of us could win and leave. I was still skeptical about that, but it was my only way out of this.

Tyler ended up losing that first competition to a boy about my age. Sonny and Christopher went up against each other when their numbers were up, with Sonny winning, but barely. They both took a dozen lashes and it looked like he was going to quit, but Chris yelled out before he did. He got his extra lashes as Sonny was released and taken to the cell.

The boy that had the number after me was scrawny and small. His name was Timmy and he was every bit of what his name would conjure up in one's mind; weak and scared. He'd been scared the whole time. He was begging them to stop when they branded him with his number.

By the time the two of us were led, Timmy dragged, out, the crowd had settled down, but it was still cheering at the bloodshed when two boys were whipped abnormally long. Most of us held on for at least four lashes, with the loser getting a fifth, but then there were those that wanted to outlast the other.

Timmy was set up across from me, already crying for his mommy. When the man took my arms, I just raised them up.

"Confident, are you?" he said, smirking.

"Just because I know that kid's a wimp," I answered back.

Sure enough, after one lash for each of us, Timmy was screaming for it to stop. The man behind me groaned, but walked up to me nonetheless. He uncuffed me, setting me back down on my feet. I looked up to him and smirked.

"Guess you were right," he said smirking back.

He led me back to the holding area while the bidding began on Timmy. I asked the guy if I could stay to hear the final amount. He shrugged and so in the tunnel, we stayed to watch. Timmy was sold for just over fifty thousand dollars to someone above us in the stands.

I helped Sonny with his wounds after I was chained to the wall in my spot. By the end of that evening, we were down to thirty-two of us. We were told that the next event would be the following week. Most of us were glad for that small reprieve, giving us time to recover from our wounds.

The worst one was a kid my age with a number in the thirties. He'd taken twenty lashes of the whip, bringing quite a bit of blood to the surface, before his opponent began begging for the whipping to stop. Unless he had some sort of reserve strength, I doubted he'd make it through the next competition.

We spent the week recovering from the whipping. They also fed us a little better, with three meals a day and a second trip to the bathroom per day. The men that looked after us never touched us when we were in there. I was sure they were under orders to keep their hands off us.

The morning of the next competition, the cars rolled in, creating the same amount of noise as before. The men walked in as the cars began settling down in the parking area. When they tied us this time, it was with our hands in front of us. We were placed in numerical order and then led out towards the arena. Through the cell and into the oval to another roaring crowd we walked.

The four wooden poles that were there before were gone, to be replaced by steel poles. But each of these poles had two arms on them. One was about five feet [1½ m] off the ground with an extremely mean looking dildo on it pointing upwards. The fake cocks had to have been only about nine inches [23 cm] long, but they got wider as they went downward. The other arm was at the very top with a pulley and a rope.

"I wonder where that thing's going," the boy behind me whispered as we were led to the cell on the side.

"Up our asses," I told him, after turning around. I got a stunned look in return.

As the man began removing the rope from our necks, the announcer stated exactly what I'd told just told them. We would be lifted up by our wrists on the pulley and lowered down onto the dildos. From there, our weight would pull us down further until we cried out for it to stop. Once again, though, it was a one-on-one competition.

The first four boys were taken out to line up at the poles. None of them were looking forward to this at all. All four boys had their wrists clipped to the ropes and the slack was taken out. But, only the first two were lifted off the ground. The other two men from the second set of boys helped the first ones to aim the dildos to the assholes of their intended victims.

Holding their buttcheeks apart, both of them were speared by the rubber cocks, causing each to cry out. Neither one admitted defeat right off, so their weight began pulling them downward, impaling them further and further, spreading their holes wider. When the first kid was about halfway down, he screamed for this to end. Both boys were pulled off the dildos, but only the winner was lowered back to the ground fully. As the winner was being untied, the loser had to endure ten more lashes of the whip before he was let loose. He was bid on and the summarily sold.

On the third set, we found out what happens if someone tries to use the pole behind them to pull themselves off the dildo. It hurts worse; the poles were greased to prevent just such a notion. The boy that tried, slipped and impaled himself on it even harder, causing him to lose almost instantly.

Also, if any boy struggled against the men pulling them onto the dildo, once they were under control, they were pulled down hard onto it. The loser on the fourth set tried to evade getting grabbed by the man under him. Once the legs were grabbed, he was yanked down hard onto the rubber dick, piercing him painfully. It ripped his hole, causing even more screams from him than would have been if he'd just surrendered to the test. He gave up just as fast as the previous loser.

When it was my turn, the boy that had been in front of me, by the name of William, and I walked out to the crowd. I was feeling particularly daring with this one. There was no way this kid was going to beat me. I walked out to the pole and handed the man my wrists. I was pulled up and waited for the couple in front of us to finish. It took a while, I'd have to say. Both of them were unyielding. Finally, one just couldn't take it any more and called out.

William and I were hoisted up just as the loser was starting to begin to be sold. We had to wait suspended for a few minutes until the bidding was over, but once he was sold, I began descending again. I opened my legs wider than necessary, much to the delight of the crowd, and the man aimed me for the prong. I grunted as the dildo split me apart, and clenched my buttcheeks closed as tight as possible.

I looked up towards the crowd to see the man that was in charge of all this; the one that had visited us that one day. The one responsible for all of our suffering. He was smiling with a great deal of confidence. I scowled.

I'm going to cut your heart out before this is all over with.

The rope slackened and I realized that my full weight was on the dildo. I held on hard, pushing my muscles to their limits to keep the thing from going any farther into me. I strained all that I had to keep up with this particular torment. As the crowd got louder watching us, I just concentrated on what I had to do to keep from sliding down any more.

The boy behind me cried out, but not for it to stop. He just screamed. The crowd loved it. Neither one of us was giving in to this. I groaned under my own weight, but refused to yield. Then the dildo slipped a little, pushing into me more so. I let out a small yelp, and then doubled my efforts to keep it from going any more.

"PLEASE!! STOP! I GIVE!" the other boy cried just as my own limits were in danger of being breeched.

I was hauled back up, leaving some blood behind, and then set down on my feet. William was given his ten licks of the whip and then placed in the center to be sold. I asked to stay again, and he was sold to a man on the far side for forty-five thousand dollars.

I looked back up to see the man that was heading this whole operation and he was applauding at the price. From there, I turned and was led back to the holding cell and the shackles I had grown used to wearing.

November--

Even two days later, all sixteen of us were still sorer than hell. But, after we were fed our noon meal that day, the dumb brute of a man walked back inside. He came straight to me. I was released from the shackles and then my arms tied behind my back. Once the rope was around my neck, he pulled me out of the cell.

We walked straight to the arena, but it was down a different hallway. It led to an office area where a secretary let us pass. The head man was behind his desk with his feet propped up, talking on the phone. The brute led me to stand in front of the desk.

"… I'm glad you enjoy him, Karl," he was saying. "Yeah. See you on Saturday. Sure, you can bring him, just keep him under control. If he escapes, he's not our responsibility. Okay. See you then."

And then he hung up the phone. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the gorilla that had been holding on to the leash around my neck. Once we were alone, he turned his full attention to me.

"You know I've already got a few bids on you?" he said, templing his fingers under his chin.

"You'll have to disappoint them," I countered.

"There's one that's actually very nice to be with," he offered.

"I don't care; I'm not for sale."

"I see you have a few scars," he said, trying to engage me in conversation.

"They're from getting fucked by a bulldozer," I retorted. He sighed, but I wasn't falling for it. "What am I doing here, now? I haven't lost anything and I've entertained your people quite well. So…?"

"As head of this operation, I have the right to refrain from selling any one of you to any of the clients." He seemed to be going somewhere, so I let him talk. "And, if you should lose along the way, I want you to know that you'll be mine for however long I want you."

"I won't lose, and when I leave, the authorities will be told about you," I challenged.

"You won't remember me," he answered.

"Excuse me?" I asked, genuinely shocked at that.

"You'll see if you do win."

That gave me something to think about over the course of the next few days. By the end of the week, the ones that were still left there had pretty much healed up from the previous ordeal. The one thing that was noticeable, was that we weren't like what I had at the facility. There was no 'camaraderie' feel. No one really talked to anyone else. And, as Sonny had lost the previous week, I also refrained from talking to any of the others.

As the weekend came around, the cars filled the place back up. And even though we were down to sixteen combatants, the crowd was still the same size.

Here we go again.

"Wonder what they've got for us this time," one of the kids in front of me mused.

"Bash our heads in with a bowling ball," I suggested.

I got a few chuckles from some of the others, but that was it.

After going through the cell and into the arena, the challenge was a mystery to me. In the middle of the arena was a rectangle pit with sand in it. A rope was strung out along the length of the pit. One of the wooden poles with the shackles was back at the end of the oval circuit. We traversed the circle and were put into the cage awaiting the announcer's instructions.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began.

"That's up for debate," I retorted and got a few snorts in answer.

"Tonight's event will be one of strength as two boys will battle it out in a tug-of-war," the announcer continued.

"That's not so bad," one boy said, but I was skeptical.

Two boys, the one that had just spoken being one of them, were taken out of the cell and led to the ropes. They were put at opposite ends of the rope and made to get down on their hands and knees, facing in opposite directions. The men then picked up the ends of the rope and tied the end around the nuts of each boy.

"Oh, shit," one of the boys next to me commented.

"The rules are simple," the announcer said as they were getting ready. "The loser of this contest will be the one that either cries out to quit or gets dragged across the middle of the field. Also, if one of them touches their balls or the rope, they automatically lose.

"Ready?" he practically shouted.

The crowd certainly was as it cheered. A whistle blew and both boys pulled away from the other. Pain was etched on each of their faces as their balls were put to the test. One boy screamed, but made a lunge to try and get his opponent pulled his direction. The ploy worked, but only momentarily. After that, he lost some ground, allowing the other boy to get back into it.

As the one that had tried to take the win began losing, he screamed in pain, but I got the feeling it wasn't from any pain from his balls. He seemed to try and pull himself off the ground like it was stabbing needles in his legs or something. He became desperate, trying to scramble out of where he was, but it was no use. The other boy kept pulling, forcing the loser to come towards him.

With no other choice, the boy screamed out that he quit. The winner curled into a ball, trying to relieve some of the pain his gonads were feeling as the loser was stood up and taken to the pole to be whipped. He was given ten more agonizing lashes and then put on display to be sold.

Over the course of the next few battles, I realized that something was in the middle of the pit. Something was hurting them if they touched the sand in the middle.

It must be heated, my inner voice suggested. I couldn't argue with that. That had to be it.

I was in the fifth fight of the night. When the fourth one was over, my opponent and I were led out to the pit. As the fourth boy of the night was being sold, the two of us were hooked up to the rope. I waited, knowing that my nuts were about to be put through the worse pain they'd ever gone through.

After a few minutes of waiting, the whistle blew and I pulled. My nuts were instantly assaulted with an unimaginable pain, but I wasn't giving in. The other boy started pulling during my lapse in concentration, but I quickly got into it and dug into the sand to make up the lost ground.

"RAARGHH!" I screamed as I pulled hard, but remembered what happened in the first battle. I'd pulled him towards me a little and that little began to build into a little more. I grunted again and pulled again, straining my limits to the edge. Every inch was painful, but I'd been put through a lot of painful events in my life. This one could not be any different.

I continued gaining ground until the boy behind me screamed in pain. I took the moment of pain as a good sign and pulled even harder, dragging him onto the hot sand in the middle. He shrieked even more and I pulled with more intensity. He kept crying out, but not giving up. With a final pull, I got the whistle from the announcer; I'd pulled him far enough into the middle of the field.

Groaning, I curled up into a ball, trying to get over the pain I now felt. There was just no way to describe it. If they weren't still attached, I'd say they'd been yanked off my body. One of the men came over and lifted me to my feet. I walked out of the arena as if I looked like Quasimodo. I didn't bother staying behind to see the results of the auction.

It took a whole three days for all eight of us to get over that little experience. Even on Wednesday morning, I was still sore if something even grazed my privates. With only eight of us in a place built to handle over sixty kids, it certainly seemed empty. It sort of echoed what we all felt inside; empty. Even I had a hard time feeling upbeat about anything.

When Saturday came around, it was back to the arena. As soon as the time was nigh, we were put in line to be led out with our hands behind our backs again. The crowd went wild again when we emerged from the cell into the ring. The others looked to see what they had in mind for us while I looked around the arena at the audience.

I saw a few of the other boys that had been sold before us. Most of the ones that I saw were still nude with only a collar around their necks. Their 'owners' were sitting next to them holding the leashes. I cursed them privately and then turned in the direction the other seven were looking to see what was in store for me.

It was a strange contraption with the poles. The arm at the top was just a simple rope through a pulley again. But at the bottom, the horizontal pole ended with two cuffs to the side of it. In front of the bottom pole was the confusing part. It was another pole on wheels with a set of pulleys and two water buckets to the side. A container of water was on the top with hoses leading to the sides above the buckets.

"Wonder what that's all about," one of the others asked as we were filed into the cell.

"Whatever it is," I said, "it ain't there for our health."

"Ain't that the truth," he answered back.

The first set of two were led out. I would be in the last set of the day for this little torture endeavor. I watched as the two were led to the poles that were more permanent. First thing that happened was that both of their ankles were cuffed to the bottom horizontal pole. Then, each one had their hands pulled up as high as they could go behind their backs, bending them over at the waist. Each of them groaned at the extreme angle they were put in.

The strange contraption was pushed into place in front of them. From the bottom, clamps were pulled up and clamped to both nipples on each boy. Both boys hissed as the teeth sunk into the skin of each one.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer started, "now that the first set of boys are prepared and ready, the test will begin."

A valve was opened and water began running out of the container at the top, filling the buckets. I could see that both of the boys were already uncomfortable in their pain, but then I saw the skin on their chest begin to pull away. I then got the idea of this.

"The water's weighing down the buckets, pulling on their nipples," I informed the other five that were still there.

"Owww," one of them commented needlessly. I couldn't agree more.

As we watched, the clamps began to seriously dig into the two boys' skin. Blood began dripping down one of their chests, but both of them had been showing signs of serious distress since the beginning. A minute or so later, the one bleeding began screaming, but not calling a halt to his torment. I had to give it to him; it was another minute or two before he actually did give up.

The clamps were pulled from his nipples and some more blood flowed down his chest. The winner also bled a little, but not as much. The loser was given ten lashes from the whip across only his buttocks while he was still tied as he was. He screamed at the last four of them.

When the two boys in front of me and my opponent left, the kid turned to me.

"You're not going to win," he challenged. "I will not be sold away like some piece of furniture."

"We'll see," I retorted.

The two of us watched the match before us, having one boy outlast the other. As he was getting his ten lashes, the two of us were brought out before an erupting crowd. We were put into the position of being bent over. Privately, I actually thought about Tom drilling me in this position and had to quell a smirk before someone saw it.

When the clamps were applied, I hissed and heard one from behind me as well.

"Begin," I heard from the announcer, and the ache in my chest got a little worse.

I found out how things got more painful. The teeth on the clamps dug into my chest harder and harder with the weight of the buckets filling up with water. Soon, the pain became excruciating, but I remained tightlipped, bearing it in silence. I figured that the kid behind me would probably feel emboldened if I voiced my pain, so I kept my mouth shut. For once.

But the pain was getting unbearable. The crowd noise was nonexistent through the pain that was surging through my body. The blood pounding in my ears helped drown it all out. Just as I was about to scream out in pain for it to stop, the agony suddenly lifted. My rival had surrendered.

When they took the clamps off, I screamed at the sheer torture of it. I looked down to see blood running down my chest. I was so tired and aching that I collapsed onto the ground when I was fully released. They carried me off as the other boy began getting his ten lashes of the whip.

A nurse was there for the four of us that won the contest. She seemed okay, as opposed to Dr. Wells back at the facility. She applied some sort of cream to the puncture holes in our chest. It stunk like embalming fluid, but eased the pain in my chest to a dull ache almost on contact. From there, we were led back to the cell to recover before the following week's event.

I kept thinking about how each of us weren't interested in getting to know each other. We were all in the same boat; made to compete for the sadistic pleasure of others, but there was no camaraderie. I missed having at least Simon to talk to and Tom to sleep with. That time was one of the loneliest times I could remember. And I'm including the orphanage I was at to begin with.

The four of us were totally healed up by Thursday of that week. And by the time Saturday rolled around, all of us were ready for whatever came our way. I could see it in their eyes; they wanted freedom as much as I did.

So, it's on, eh?

I quieted my little voice and got ready. Our hands were put in front of us again that week. And, used to the routine, we were tied into a chain and then led to the separate building. Even though I'd gone through all the tortures and torments, that day seemed different somehow. Things just felt different. Once we were in the arena, I concentrated on what the challenge was. I heard a gasp come from the boy in the lead. I had to agree.

In the center of the arena were two cages. Both of them were square with wide iron bands forming the sides in a crossing pattern. It looked like a series of tic-tac-toe boards all put together. They were hung from the top of a pole with electric cords coming down to them. At the bottom of each was a floor of iron spikes sticking upwards and two small platforms in the middle of the floors. I looked a little closer to see spikes coming out horizontally from the walls as well.

This time, they didn't bother with putting the four of us in the cell. The boy I was supposed to go up against and I were placed to the side as the first two were taken to the cages. The ropes were removed from their wrists and then they were pushed into the cages. They stepped up onto the small platforms and then had their wrists put in the manacles extending down from the roofs. They were pulled tightly, making sure only the balls of their feet were touching the plates. Even if that weren't the case, those things weren't very large anyway.

After they were prepared, the doors were closed on them and the two men backed away. The announcer informed everyone that as the challenge began, what was happening to the two in the cages. The plates under their feet were being heated up. Eventually, they were going to have to quit.

But, as I watched, neither boy was willing to do that. One of them pulled his foot up, to get one of the spikes from the walls going into his leg. The other one tried lifting himself off the plate, only to get shocked by electricity in the manacles. He had to replace his feet back on the plate, but missed, getting them stuck with a spike from the floor. Finally, the boy to my right cried out for the torture to stop.

He was given ten lashes of the whip after being pulled out of the cage. While he was being sold, the two of us that were on the side were led to the cages for the next round. By the time the bidding was over, the plates were cool enough for us to step up on without any pain. But, that would change.

My body was stretched out in the manacles and I grabbed on to them with my hands to keep steady. The plates then began to get warm. And warmer and warmer and warmer. I got a little antsy at the unpleasant feeling and began shifting my weight around, but it didn't help. I pulled myself up by the manacles, knowing I was going to get shocked. My body took a huge jolt, but it helped my feet out. Finally, I couldn't take the shock any longer and screamed.

"STOP!" I cried, probably right before the other kid. But, I'd lost, nonetheless.

I'd had enough of this. Whatever the man that was in charge of all this had in mind for me had to be better than what I'd gone through.

I was led down from the cage and made to stand before the crowd. The man in charge stood and nodded. I was led to a pole and whipped harshly for all ten lashes. I cried out on the last three. When they were done, I was let down and then led away without the benefit of an auction. The crowd was highly disappointed.

"So," he was saying, sitting behind the desk, "you were going to win, eh?"

I was standing before him, nude as ever, with my hands in manacles and the chain dangling down to the ground in front of me. My feet were sore, so I was standing with most of my weight on the heels. I was really in no mood for any chit-chat. I'd lost and I hate losing like this with a passion.

"Why did you lose?" he asked.

"What does it matter? I lost and I belong to you, I suppose. What else matters?"

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me; I wanted the fuck out of here," I growled at him menacingly.

"You still have some fight in you," he commented, bemused, "I like that, but watch your tone of voice with me, boy. I only have so much patience."

"Whatever."'

To be honest, the man wasn't bad looking, but I wasn't there for that. Not only having to do my job, this guy also gave me the creeps. He reminded me of Nathan Smith, but with a significant amount of control. He looked as if he'd have no trouble torturing his own offspring if it suited his purposes.

He walked around his desk and grabbed the chain in front of me. I was led to the side of his office where he strung the chain up to a hook in the ceiling. I was pulled off my feet and made to hang only by my wrists.

"I'll enjoy you later," he said with a smirk.

Looking forward to it, shithead.

He ran his finger down the side of my face and then went back to his desk. For the remainder of the day, I hung there in his office. People came and went, looking at me, then him, doing some work, and then they would leave. All the while, I did nothing but hang by my wrists.

I found out a few things while I was there, though. The man's name was Grant; Harrison Grant. He did most of his business out of California. I also found out that that was where we were at that time; northern Cali.

When the day was done, I was let down and pulled along behind him. We left the facility and entered a black limo. From there, he took me to a small house away from the area. Obviously, he owned it as well. After we walked inside, he didn't bother with any preliminaries.

I was taken to his bedroom. A pulley raised me up by my wrists again off in the corner of the room. When I was at the right height, he took a step back. I heard clothes rustling from behind me and I knew what was coming next. Seconds later, he stepped back to me and buried his cock inside me. He was big, I will admit, giving me cause to scream a bit; mainly that it had been a while since anything had gone up there.

"Not so brave any more, are you?"

I didn't bother answering; I was sure he didn't want to hear what I had to say. He just plowed into me again, just as savagely as the initial thrust. I yelped out again, but it didn't stop him. Nothing was going to stop him.

"You've been fucked before," he whispered into my ear.

"By bigger cocks than yours," I retorted, purposefully trying to make him angry.

With his hand already all the way around my waist, he held onto me as he shoved hard into my body.

"AGH!" I cried at the violence of it.

"I think not," he came back with.

With nothing more that needed to be said, he continued laying into me until he came. He pulled out and shot his load all over my back and butt. He walked away to clean up in his bathroom. I thought he was through with me. He wasn't.

When he returned, my legs were pulled spread outward and then shackled to the floor. From my vantage point, I couldn't see what he was doing, but I heard something being dragged to me. I figured that it probably wasn't for my benefit, so I held on for the worst. When it was under me, I heard a crank and then something touched the crack to my butt.

A moment later, that 'something' began spreading my cheeks apart and then pushing into me. One more crank and it insistently tried to get inside me. Another crank and I groaned at the pain of being split apart from back there. A third one and I was penetrated painfully.

"AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!" I bellowed as the rod was forced further and further into my body.

"Who was fucking you, boy?" I heard him ask.

"None of your business!" I screamed back at him and he cranked again. I screamed in agony at it. "NO!!!!" I cried as I got another turn.

"I can keep going, you know," he informed me dispassionately.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed out to him.

God, it was tearing me up, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He pushed more of the rod into me and then stopped. And then pain exploded across my buttcheek. And I screamed again. The whip lashed me again and again, but I refused to give in.

He continued with the whipping, getting marks on my chest, back, butt, legs, privates (getting a huge shriek from me), and arms. But I wouldn't say anything about it.

"You are stubborn, I'll give you that, Seth," he said after about thirty lashes.

I had no more strength for a comeback, so I kept silent. Grant wound up the whip and then went to bed, leaving me with a very wide hard dildo forced into me, hanging from the ceiling for the night. If the nights at the facility in Virginia were long, they were nothing compared to that one. I spent the whole time trying to pull myself off the hard piece of rubber with no success. My legs were just tied way too tight for that.

When the sun began creeping into the room, I knew my resistance was low, but I refused to give in to anything he would have for me that day. It took longer for Grant to wake up, and when he did, he returned to the whip. I got several more painful lashes from it before he headed out for his breakfast.

Grant returned, freshly showered and smelling nicely, to get dressed. My head was yanked back by my hair even more moments later, making me look into his eyes.

"You will tell me what I want to know before this is over with," he said as if he were ordering a pizza.

"I wouldn't count on it," I gasped back.

After giving the device under me one more crank, sending renewed shards of pain into my innards, he turned and left the house.

"When I cut your heart out, I'm going to make you see it just before you die," I promised.

December -

The torture stopped that evening. After a whole, grueling day of dealing with a hard piece of huge rubber up my ass, he returned to his house. The dildo was removed, but only long enough for me to get fucked again. It took him forever before he came, probably due to the fact that my asshole had been ripped apart.

When he was through fucking me, I was let down from the ceiling, but the dildo was replaced. A rope was tied around my waist, keeping it inside me. That night, he tied me up in a hogtie and put me on the floor at the foot of his bed. There was absolutely no way I could move, so I figured that I'd bide my time.

For the first time in three days, I was fed the following morning. It wasn't much, just a small bowl of cereal, but it tasted like a steak to me. When he left the house that day, I was strung up to the hook in the hogtie. That evening was another rough fucking, only to be hung back up from the ceiling. The dildo was removed for that night, only to be replaced the following day after his morning fuck.

That Saturday, he pulled me down from the hook. Following his morning constitutional fuck, he bound me for the day. My arms were pulled behind my back and tied tightly at the wrists and elbows by ropes. Another set of ropes tied my wrists to two ropes wound around my thighs right at the hip joints. A thick collar was put around my neck, to be attached to a leash. The asshole wasn't finished, though. A ballgag was shoved into my mouth and locked behind my head.

Just as I was, I was led back to the arena for the final bout between the last two boys. I was sure that their names were Stephen and Mason, but it was pretty much irrelevant. They were in for a time with this last one. Both of them just had to be tasting their freedom. All they had to do was outlast one last person. Of course, there was the catch. Both of them wanted it. Badly.

Grant pulled me to the place where he normally sat and then locked the leash to the chair. I was made to sit on my knees next to him. As the place began filling up with the other sadists, I saw some of the ones that had lost before still there. I saw Tyler and Chris, but not Sonny. His master had probably left with him back to where he'd come from. They looked okay, but a little more subdued.

I saw Timmy and he looked barely recognizable, and utterly miserable. His blond hair had been totally shaved off. Earrings now pierced his nipples, nose, lower lip, and navel. They appeared to be permanent also. He had a harness on as well with a collar locked around his neck. Attached to the rings in his nipples was a small chain leading down to the ring in his navel. When I saw his dick, it was bent downward at an unnatural angle.

At one point, I saw him turn and saw his brand had been covered up by a tattoo. It had fully covered it with the word 'SLAVE' in red and a black oval around it. The woman sitting next to him reminded me of Dr. Wells; not with her good looks, but in body language.

"Like what you see?" I heard from my left.

The look I gave him was murderous. If I could have shot daggers from my eyes only once in my life, I would have done it right then. As it was the only thing I could do, I looked at him and then looked away. All of a sudden, I was jerked to him by the leash.

"You will respect me, boy," he hissed in my face.

I gave him the same look as before. I wanted him to know how much I hated him and how much I would always hate him. It was for the suffering all sixty-four of us were going through because of him and his greed. Finally, tired of me, I'm assuming, he turned away to look at the center of the arena. I did likewise.

The poles that used to be in the center of the arena had been replaced with two long tables or benches. At one end of them was a wooden roller with two chains on each. It was obviously a rack. So, they had to endure this torture. I was glad I was where I was.

The last two boys were led in, to the roar of the crowd. They were walked around the outside of the oval, allowing everyone to get a clear cut look at them. Once that was done, both of them were led to the backs of the racks. Then the announcer started.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he broke with, "the two boys before you will go through the worst tortures we have. We are also going to give them a chance right now to give up before it begins.

"Once this begins, it will not end for either one until completion. When it's done, another opportunity will be given at that time. If no one surrenders, the next step is taken. And so on."

The crowd looked expectantly at the two boys. Both of them shook their heads, no. It was on.

Their legs were manacled to the legs of the tables at the ankles, knees, and at the hip joints. Once that was done, they were bent over the edge of the tables. The chains were pulled down from the rollers. It was then that I saw what the steel cuffs looked like. On the end of them, pointing away from the victims, were hooks. When the cuffs were closed around the boys' wrists, the hooks sunk in to the backs of their hands. As they screamed, the crowd grew almost into a frenzy. It made me sick.

The hooks went all the way through both hands on both boys before the rollers pulled the chains tight, forcing them to be stretched out from the waist. When the crowd died down, two naked men walked onto the floor; one black, one white. But, both men were hung larger than any elephant.

Oh, shit.

They began stroking their cocks and when they were fully grown, more than a foot [30 cm] long each and as round as my wrists, they walked up to their intended targets. Both boys could see the other over the tables. Each of them saw what was in store for them.

"I GIVE UP!!! I WANT OUT!!!!" the one on my right called out.

"It is too late, boy," the announcer told him. "This will go until the men have their orgasms inside your cute little behinds."

"NOOOOOOO!!!!! PLEASE!!!!! NOOOOO!!" he begged and cried. But it was no use.

The announcer nodded to the two men and they lined up their mammoth cocks to the two suffering boys' virgin holes. Even though we'd all been pierced by the dildos before, this was something completely different. I ought to know.

As both men began pressing their manhoods into their intended preys, the audience watched with bated breath. When the shrieking began from both of them, I knew the missiles had penetrated the fertile ground of both boys. Their innocence was now lost. Forever. I knew that feeling well. No matter who won this, both of them had lost.

The two mountainous cocks continued their treks into both boys, penetrating, ripping, rending, and destroying the entire distance. The youngsters screamed in agony, both of them begged for it to be over, but the savage rapes continued. The boy on the left stopped screaming at one point, and got a shocked look on his face. Then the man shoved forward harder, and the squealing restarted.

It was torturous to watch this, but I made myself do it. I wanted to remember this. I wanted to have this on my mind as soon as I got the opportunity to kill Harrison Grant. To make damn sure I took it. I was hating this man worse than Omar.

The two men in the arena had fully taken their intended victims. Now, they were beginning to royally fuck them. The begging and pleading for it to end was coming from both preteens, but it didn't end. At least not quickly. It seemed to me to go on forever, and I wasn't even one of the ones getting it.

The man on my right came first, sending a copious amount of jizm into his boy. Even before his cock weakened and slipped out of the ruined orifice, cum ran out of the hole. Blood was also flowing, and had been for a little while, from his torn virginity. The hooks in his hands had also torn some and more blood flowed from there as well.

Just as the first man withdrew his cock, the second one shouted that he was cumming. The same thing had gone on with the poor kid as did with his counterpart. As soon as he cleared the torn hole that was once small and tight, cum and blood ran freely from it.

"Who's ready to quit?" the announcer asked them.

"I AM!" Both boys shouted simultaneously.

The crowd roared with laughter at the change of attitudes. I even heard a chuckle from Grant next to me.

"Well, we can't have both of you quitting, boys," the announcer said, with faux sympathy. "So, here's what we're going to do.

"The next step will go until one of you passes out. The one that remains awake will be the winner."

Both boys groaned at that, knowing that now there was no way out of this living hell they were in. I was now grateful that I'd quit the previous week. Even though I'd gone through my own week of hell, this was much worse.

Two men released the ankles of both boys from the table, but not the other bands. The feet were pulled upwards and tied to their upper legs, forcing them to point skyward. While that was going on, two boxes were brought out and opened. Inside them were several canes of different sizes. The crowd seemed to get into this even more so when they saw that.

"Begin," the announcer called.

The first slashes of the canes struck both boys on the bottoms of their feet, causing shrieks of agony to echo through the arena. The caning of the feet went on throughout the screaming no matter how much they pleaded for it to end. Both men had worked through one broken cane when blood began showing up on the feet of both boys. But neither one had passed out.

When a second cane had broken from the man with the boy on my left, the boy had not moved from it. They looked him over and found him to be unconscious. The one on the right was still moving, but barely. It was over.

The loser was whipped, even while unconscious, and then sold. When he was carted off, the winner hauled to the middle and summarily put up for auction. I looked right to Grant with a glare that I had hoped would haunt him. Grant just smiled at me and looked down to the man in the arena holding the boy up. All he did was nod.

The boy was devastated, and I don't blame him. Even I bought into it somewhat. Ten minutes later, the boy was sold to an Oriental man for almost a hundred thousand dollars.

Grant hauled me to my feet and then led me out by the leash. As we walked, I continued looking at people, trying to commit their faces to memory. But, the moment we were out the door, everyone took off into different directions. So much so, that identifying them all was out of the question. I just began concentrating on figuring out a way out of all this mess.

We got to the limo, where Grant climbed in and then pulled me in after him. He forced me down to the floor of the vehicle to use my face and head as a footrest for the drive. The ride took about three hours. I thought maybe he'd fly us where ever he was going, but we drove the distance.

When the car finally stopped, Grant pulled me out into a garage and then into a house that was probably larger than the state of Connecticut.

A nude boy in his mid-teens walked over to us as we entered. He seemed okay, but definitely submissive. He'd probably been a slave for a long time.

"Welcome back, Master," he said with a bow; his neatly trimmed hair slipped but returned to its place when he stood back erect.

"Thank you, Mitchell," Grant said, blowing past him.

Grant took me up the stairs to the third floor. I was summarily thrown onto the bed. I knew what was coming next. Hell, I think even Helen Keller would have known what was coming next.

The rope was removed from my legs that held my hands down. After that, my arms were raised up as high as they could go without breaking. Grant aimed his cock for my backside and then shoved it inside me with zero preamble. I only grunted at the suddenness of it, but then remained silent throughout the rest of his fun.

"Now that felt good," he commented when he was done and began pulling out of me.

So glad you enjoyed yourself, asswipe. Your day will come.

When he was completely done, he pulled on a robe and then yanked me off the bed by my tied arms. I was practically dragged down the hall and then down the stairs to the second floor. He picked me up just as we reached a door at the end of the hallway. I gained my balance before he opened the door to a room of horrors.

Every instrument of dishing out pain was in this room. Reflexively, I groaned. He caught it and smiled. Grant pulled me into the room and over to a spot similar to what the house before had, but this one was permanent.

My arms were untied and, before I could get any real circulation back to them, were shackled to the manacles coming down from the ceiling. My ankles were spread and put into shackles on the floor. He touched a button on the wall and I was hoisted up to hang from my wrists. Another touch on the wall and a dildo came up from under the floor. A moment later, and it ripped into my young boyhole and I screamed through the ballgag. It continued invading me and I felt every damn ridge on the plastic rod.

When it was inside me farther than I thought possible, causing me more than my fair share of pain, it pulled out. Grant smiled at the results and turned from the room. Moments later, as the dildo began shoving itself back inside me, the lights were turned out and I was left alone. Again.

The fucking continued to build in intensity and speed. And after a while, I was getting fucked harder than I'd ever been in my life, all points considered. Without much more resistance in me, I screamed into the night. But it was for naught. No one came to stop the torture. I held on to my sanity by leaving my mind behind and just trying to think of something else.

When the lights finally came on, Grant walked over and stopped the machine from doing any more damage. I was raped again without being let down from the chains. And I was left hanging when he was done. The whole day I was left alone there. Mitchell fed me once halfway through the day, but that was all. That night, he took me again.

"There is no escape for you, young one," he said the next morning after a similar night. "You are mine. It is time you learned that."

He'd been standing behind me and zipping up his pants before heading to work; he'd gotten in his normal morning rape. I was left hanging for the day, but without anything shoved inside me.

That was the first week I was there. That Friday morning, though, I was taken down, retied with my arms behind me, and cleaned up by Mitchell. I thought about taking Mitchell down and escaping, but I quickly decided against it. I wanted Grant and he wasn't there at that time. I would have to wait till later.

When I was sufficiently clean, he pulled me to the first floor where I saw five other boys about my age. I was a little shocked, but put it out of my head. Three of them were blond, one brown haired, and one red haired.

All of them had ballgags in their mouths, so talking was completely out. They weren't tied up, but they were naked and carrying ropes. Cages were mounted around their groins and locked in place, preventing any type of play with those parts.

Mitchell took all six of us to the front door. He flipped a switch and then led us outside to the front walk. On both sides of the walk were a total of twelve poles. The red-haired boy was tied first to the pole on our left farthest away from the house.

His arms were pulled up to their limits and his wrists tied to the top, making sure he was stretched out fully. A string was then used to tie his fingers to the pole before Mitchell continued onward. Another rope was used on his arms right below the elbows, and one more, securing his shoulders to the pole. The next rope was put right below his armpits, another at his belly, right below the ribcage, and another at the pelvic region.

A small chain was linked to the boy's cage on his cock, pulling it downward and through his legs. The next three sets of ropes were put at the boy's thighs, knees, and then at the ankles. The boy's big toes were wound together by a string as well.

A blond boy was next, being tied to a pole that was in the shape of a cross with an extra link at the top. His harness on his head was linked to that. His arms were, of course, tied to the crossbars of the cross, at the wrists, elbows and shoulders. Ropes were also used for his neck, chest, and pelvic region. And then three more for his lower legs as well, with strings for his toes and fingers.

The brown-haired boy was third. He was knelt before the next pole. Bands were put across his legs at the ankles and knees. His cock cage was also chained to the pole behind him. A rope secured his thighs, pelvis, and chest to the pole behind him. His arms were pulled back and tied off at the elbows and wrists. One more rope went around his neck, putting him fully to the rod. The belt that held the ballgag in his mouth was also secured to the pole.

A young blond-haired boy came next. His face was a little flattened, and not all that attractive, and I supposed that was why he was put in this forth spot. First, his head was put into a hole in the middle of a cross, at waist height. After that, Mitchell tied his arms behind his back, each wrist to the opposite elbow, and then to his body. When that was done, the boy's body was upended, putting his legs over the bar of the cross. Mitchell put ropes on his ankles, tied them together, and then down to the back of the cross. His knees were then secured to the bar. A final rope wound around his thighs and then to the cross, making sure the boy couldn't move.

The fifth boy was made to squat down. A rope was tied to each leg just below the knee. Another rope tied his ankles to his upper thighs. A rope was wound around his chest right under his armpits and pulled down through a hook on the ground. From there, Mitchell pulled his arms back and tied them at the wrists and elbows. He then pulled his arms back and upwards as far as they could go. That rope was tied off at the top of the pole. The last rope was used for tying his head harness to his arms, immobilizing his head. Strings tied his fingers together and some sort of bands were used to put over his feet, holding them in place under his body.

I was last. The last pole was the one that had a dildo sticking up from a horizontal line. Mitchell put me on it and forced it inside my hole. I screamed at the suddenness of the insertion and groaned once I was all the way down. But after the previous week's torments, I was used to taking the abuse. Hell, even without that week, I'd say I was used to the abuse.

Mitchell tied my ankles to the bottom of the pole, pulling the down and backward, also making sure the entire thick dildo was inside me completely. When he was done there, he took my wrists, tied them together, and pulled them up over my head, bending me backwards. I was stretched to my body's limit before he was through. My elbows were also tied together right behind my head. My fingers weren't neglected, either.

With all six of us tied to the poles, Mitchell left and went back inside. None of us could move anything except our eyeballs. The day grew longer and longer. There were some grunts and groans, but for the most part it was quiet.

As the sun was getting lower in the sky, he came back outside with black leather blindfolds for our eyes. I heard him walk away a few moments later, leaving us to ourselves again. I knew we'd been out there for only a few hours, but even my high thresholds were being pushed. Most of the previous few days had caught up to me and were wearing me thin.

Then I heard a car pull up. Doors opened and closed. Footsteps followed. There was some giggling from a woman and I knew that it wasn't Grant. But a moment later, I heard a boy whine about not wanting to do something. Then there was a slap. He relented. There were some more noises and then more silence.

Another car pulled up and a man's voice was heard pulling something along behind him. It was then that I realized what was happening. Others were bringing their slaves or property to be tied to the posts across from the six of us. Sure enough; over the next few moments four others were secured before it was all over with. Some grunts and groans came from across the walk, but pretty much silence for a while. Then another car pulled up to the house. Some people got out and walked by. There were some giggles, but nothing else. Another car got there. More people filed by. One made a comment that Harrison finds the most interesting sculptures available.

Talk about clueless…

Throughout the next few hours, more and more people arrived. It was obvious that it was a party at the house. And these people were the wealthy ones from the area. They had to be; they were too stupid not to be.

When the trail of people died off, I heard a distant rumble. A storm was blowing in. A final car arrived and it was then that I felt the first raindrop. After that, it was like unleashing a dam. The twelve of us were pummeled by winds and driving rain for longer than I care to think about. One of the boys from across the walk wailed throughout the entire storm. I'm not a fan of storms either, but this kid was going insane while tied there.

The night seemed to last forever. Soon, though, people began leaving, but we stayed the way we were. Even the ones others had brought over weren't taken down. No one came to get us that night. We had to ride out the entire storm. The whole time, I kept thinking of different ways to kill Grant.

The next morning, when the storm was over, we were finally let down. Mitchell was the one that came and got us. When I was lifted off that fucking dildo, I groaned at the sensation of my asshole returning to some semblance of normal. At least there wasn't a telephone pole shoved up inside it, preventing it from closing any longer.

My legs didn't work at all when I was put down on the ground, so I just collapsed. Mitchell picked me up and carried me inside. I barely remember the trip to the room the slaves shared. All I remember was waking up some time later to a room full of snoring boys. Aching, I got up and stretched out my tender naked body. I felt better, but still as sore as hell. I walked over to the door to find it unlocked.

When I walked out, I saw that I was on the second floor landing. I turned and walked down the stairs to the main area of the huge house. I heard someone approaching and hid behind the curl of the stairs. It was Mitchell carrying a tray to the study. When the doors had shut behind him, I snuck over to it. As I looked through the crack, I saw that Grant was there. Good.

I waited for Mitchell to leave by the side of the doors. When he left the room and the door closed, I grabbed him by the mouth with one hand and pulled hard. He hit the floor and while he was confused, I pulled has hard as I could, twisting his head around until I heard his neck pop. Once it did, I kept pulling, making sure that he was completely dead. After that, I turned back to the room where Grant was.

Scowling slightly, I walked over and opened the door. As I entered, Grant was sitting at his desk at the far side of the room. He was a little shocked to see me when he looked up, but recovered quickly enough to smile.

"Hello, Seth," he stated, putting down his pen.

I didn't answer; I just kept walking towards him, obviously angry. He stood up and when he did, he saw Mitchell's body lying outside the room.

"What did you do to him?" he asked.

"The same thing I'm going to do to you," I countered.

Grant came at me quickly and I moved faster than I have ever moved in my short life. I vaulted over a chair and down towards the fireplace. When I turned back towards him, I had the poker in my hands. I didn't know he was right behind me. The poker went right into his gut and embedded itself into his midsection.

Realization came over his face. I smiled up as he looked down at it. As difficult as it was to do, I yanked the rod out of him and then swung it across his face like a bat. He hit the floor in a heap. Quickly, I ran right to his desk where I found a sharp knife. When I got back to him, he was trying to crawl away from me.

I jumped onto him, driving the knife into his back.

"Say hello to a friend of mine when you get to hell," I hissed in his ear. And with that, I twisted the knife as hard as I could, making sure he'd die. He flinched and twitched a little, but then laid still.

Now fully feeling the effects of the previous several weeks, I rolled off him to lie down. I needed rest. Following a few moments' respite, I got up and headed to the computer. I pulled up the files I needed to name all the people that were there at the arena and where they were originally from. As I was saving the info on a thumb-drive, I heard a door open from the front of the house.

I looked up to see one of the henchmen from the arena enter the doorframe of the study. Quickly, I grabbed the drive and ran to the side. When I got out the door, he yelled for me, but I wasn't even close to stopping. I ran. Plain and simple; I ran like my life depended on it. I didn't care which direction I was going, either. I just knew I needed to get the fuck out of that area.

I heard a shot being fired at me, but I didn't slow down. If I'd been shot, I'd know it.

Don't concern yourself with 'almost'; just keep moving.

Like I needed to know that little tidbit of information. When I thought I'd lost him some time later, I decided to hide the thumb-drive. Instead of shoving it somewhere where they'd find it just by simply probing me, I found a recognizable rock to place it under. Once it was secure, I turned and continued running.

The chase lasted longer than either of us thought was possible. But it ended at a multi-story cliff. I turned to try to go back, but moments later, the henchman and two others cleared the treeline and saw me. I baulked. I took a look over my shoulder to see the drop and then back to the encroaching three men.

"Give me the drive, boy, and I'll kill you quick," the lead man said, smiling as he drew closer to me.

"Yeah, like I'd believe that," I countered back to him.

"I promise," he remarked, but with a smile that was about as trusting as a cat sneaking up on a stupid canary.

"Fuck you, shithead," I shot back and then turned towards the drop.

A quick crouch and spring, and I was airborne. As I fell, I felt a sting in my arm. And then nothing…

Once I finished telling Parker everything, he took it from there. Teams were dispatched almost immediately. People were found and arrested. The harddrive was located in the woods as well. More arrests were made. Of the sixty boys that I'd been with, only half of them were returned to their rightful places. The rest of them were lost to us; even my outfit. We never found them.

I transported home after about a week longer in the hospital. It was good to get there. It was good to see the place once again. And it was good to see Tom; mostly Tom. When he was standing in the doorway as I was dropped off, I ran to him and threw myself into his arms.

"Missed you," he said, snuggling his mouth into my neck.

"I bet," I retorted.

I held onto him as hard as I could, just feeling his closeness as much as possible. It felt safe. It felt comfortable. It felt like home to me.

With Parker and the others rounding up the group I'd infiltrated, and I wasn't needed, I planned to spend as much time as I could with Tom. He finished up the day with the trainees and I made my rounds with the others as well. I talked with Simon for a while, but I was antsy to get back into Tom's arms that night.

I was naked and waiting for him on the bed when he walked in that evening.

"Feeling better?"

"Just wanting you inside me," I said sincerely.

"I think I can handle that."

"I hope so."

Tom eased himself out of his clothes and then on top of my prone body.

"The brand is a new thing," he commented and then kissed it.

"Yeah, well, don't get too used to it," I said with a scowl, "it comes off tomorrow."

"I kinda like it," he said after a second kiss.

"I don't. And since it's my skin; it's gone."

"Take it easy, Seth," he said.

"Please just fuck me, Tom," I said in an almost whiny voice. He stopped what he was doing and I turned to look at him. "What?"

"Is that all you want?"

"No," I said, with a furled brow, "I want you, but right now, I need to have you inside me."

"I understand," he said and then pushed his cock into me.

I closed my eyes to being spread apart by his wonderful tool yet again. I missed having him there. Those ten weeks were long ones and I really need him. Once I'd felt him all the way there, he stopped. His body began weighing me down into the mattress.

"You alive back there?" I asked after a few minutes of nothing.

"Just enjoying your whole smooth body," he said while worming his hands under me.

He pressed his body downward even more so, forcing me to take all of what he had to give. I accepted it without complaint, and with a smile. I moved my hands downward to feel his side as he bore down on me harder. I hummed with warm feelings.

"Like that?" he asked and I nodded. I cooed as his cock began to be pulled out and then driven back into me. Damn, it felt good. I squeezed my legs closed to feel more of him in and on me.

"Harder, Tom," I whispered.

He pushed his frame off my back and drove hard into my boyhole. I grunted at it, but wanted more. He gave me more. Tom delivered the fucking I needed from him. It wasn't a cold and callous type; it was one that I had grown used to from the man I had fallen for. Time and time again, he drove his cock home in my body and I loved every one of them.

"UGH!" he groaned and then I felt his warm seed spread inside me.

"You've missed me," I told him when he'd collapsed onto my back.

"More than I care to imagine," he answered.

I fell asleep that night with him inside and on top of me. And I slept contently.

When I woke the next morning, I felt his firmness sawing in and out of my hole again. I smirked and then just laid there to let him fuck me however he wanted for a while.

"Did I say you could do this to me?" I asked after he'd been drilling into me for some time.

"UGH! I didn't know I needed permission," he said after a hard thrust.

"Now you know," I giggled back.

"You want me to stop, then?" he asked quickly.

I paused a moment.

"Oh," I said, sounding bored, "you might as well finish."

"Well, sorry if I'm that boring," he said with a significant amount of sarcasm.

"Bore all you want," I shot back to him and we shared a short laugh.

He continued pummeling my insides for the next half hour until both of us came. We showered and then had breakfast downstairs in the café. Simon walked in and sat down with us. After a few minutes, I got the impression something was off.

"What's going on?" I asked after a few minutes of observing their behavior. They looked at each other and then back to me. "Well?"

"Tom and I…," Simon started, but I finished.

"… fucked," I said and Simon nodded. I looked to Tom who also nodded.

"You were gone for a long time, Seth," Tom said, shrugging.

"I'm not mad," I told him. "As long as Simon's not pregnant, I don't care." I thought Simon was going to fall out of his chair from laughter. "Is there something beyond that, though?" I asked, after the laughter died down.

"No," Tom answered.

"Well," Simon threw in, "there is Lon to worry about."

"He's become viciously sadistic over the past few months," Tom finished for him.

"You know he's killed someone already," I offered.

"Yeah," Tom said, "we know. That's why he's here."

"Do you know how it happened?"

"His best friend," Tom started while nodding. "Apparently the friend told Lon's parents that he was smoking so Lon hit him with a bat. Several times. The boy ended up dying in the hospital."

"Routhe found him in a juvie center," Simon finished up with.

"Yeah," Tom continued a bit more, "he was getting fucked by two older boys when Routhe got there."

I spent the day watching the group, especially Lon. I knew the boy had killed someone and had a huge chip on his shoulder about something. I just didn't know the details till that day.

That Saturday, I went through a laser surgery to remove the brand and larger scars from my body. It took the rest of the day and three days later to totally heal from it. However, when it was over and done with, I was as smooth as ever. Even the older, more set-in scars were removed.

"I kind of liked a few of those lines, Seth," Tom said that night while he was fucking me. "It gave you a bit of character."

"I, ugh," I said, "didn't." He drilled his cock into me again as I took a breath. "I like being smooth. Ugh! It helps me do my job better."

We fucked for the next hour and let the conversation drop. When he was done, he fell asleep while I was a little restless. I went to the glass wall to look out over the lights of the city, hoping it would help, but it didn't. So, I decided to take a walk around the facility.

When I got through the sleeping quarters, I heard some of the sounds they were piping into each of the cells. They were peaceful sounds, but I knew what was underlying them.

"Can't sleep?" I heard from the right. I looked over to see Lon awake in cell 12.

"Just a little insomnia," I said, shaking my head. I decided to let him out. He was slightly surprised, but emerged from the cage nonetheless.

"Heard you had an interesting mission," he said once we were in the cafeteria.

"Nothing I'm not used to," I answered back. "But, to be honest, I prefer missions that are simpler. A quick pull of the trigger, for instance."

"You like killing people?"

"Don't you?" I asked, looking at him seriously.

"I did what I thought I had to do," he growled back at me.

"And I do what I have to do," I answered simply. "That's what this facility is all about; getting all of you to understand and comply with what's necessary."

"You mean taking orders like a good little boy."

"I mean doing what's needed in the right way," I answered, frowning a little. "It's no big deal that you can kill; anyone can do that. It's that you have to do it correctly for the bigger picture.

"Yes, there are times you have to kill someone arbitrarily, or in self-defense, but most of the missions you go on are designed for a specific purpose and are needed to be done precisely as directed."

He got a look on his face that appeared to be of an understanding one. We both seemed to let that conversation be the last one between us for the night. After some more time, I returned him to his cage and then I set off for my apartment.

The rest of January was spent with me getting some rest, getting royally fucked by Tom almost daily, and watching Lon's training. He seemed to improve; not his performance, it was his attitude.

I turned eleven on the twenty-fifth with a party containing Simon and Tom. A few presents were exchanged, but it was that night that I liked the most. Simon offered himself to me while Tom drilled me from behind. I took Tom's cock and then fucked Simon pretty hard while Tom held on to me, keeping himself inside. That little trick lasted about half an hour.

When that was finished, Tom rolled over onto his back, where I rode his manhood to completion. After he came, I stayed where I was, keeping him inside me for as long as I could, and sucked Simon's dick until he orgasmed. We rested a while and turned things around. I got on all-fours, took Tom from behind while Simon and I did a sixty-nine, sucking each other's cocks. We didn't finish our fun until way after midnight, but when we stopped and folded up into bed, the three of us slept wonderfully.

February blew in and through like nothing. It was the end of that month that the class of trainees were 'kidnapped' and taken downstairs. I helped them. I took Evan Gentry while he slept; he never saw a thing. Damn, I was good.

I carried him over my shoulder and downstairs to an interrogation room. From there, I laid him out on the floor over the grate in the middle. Each extremity was manacled and raised about two feet [60 cm] off the floor. They were pulled out in four directions, stretching him pretty far out. He wouldn't be able to pull his arms or legs into him very far. He hung downward in the middle, so I attached a belt around his waist and a chain to the back. When I was done, he hung almost perfectly parallel to the floor.

I slipped a harness over his head, blinding him and making it more difficult to hear anything. I smirked a little, knowing what he was in for.

When he was ready, I went to the other rooms to check on the other eleven. Ethan was put onto a cross, backside out by Mr. Charles. Funny how I still refer to most of them by their last names. Anyway, Lon was stretched out over a rack with his feet extended over the end of the table. I knew he was going to be a tough nut to crack; my condolences to his body.

After seeing all the others, I went back to the room with an unconscious Evan still hung waiting to wake up. I waited patiently for him. As I waited, the door opened and Parker entered. We nodded to each other and then he came to sit down next to me.

"You okay with this?" he asked after a few minutes of quiet.

"I know it's needed," I said with a shrug.

"You weren't so sure two years ago," he reminded me.

"I wasn't this person two years ago," I answered back. "Too much has changed; Afghanistan, Iran, California… What I hate the most is that there has to be a reason for all of us to go through this.

"Why can't we all just get along…?" I asked, smirking up to him and got a rare laugh in response.

After an hour, we heard him stirring. I looked up to Parker and he nodded. It was time to get started. I stood up and then decided to accelerate the waking up process. I quietly walked around him, lining up between his feet and then gave him a swift kick to his unprotected nuts. He woke up fully screaming.

I reached down to them and gave them a hard squeeze, eliciting another scream. I kept squeezing for several minutes before releasing them. He gasped out in relief.

"Wha…, what's… . going on?" he asked, gasping for air. Parker nodded to me and, this time, I punched him there. He screeched again.

"I ask the questions, young one," Parker said in his fake Russian accent. He let the tone sink in to Evan. "Now, let us begin with a simple question; what is your name?"

While Parker was talking to the boy, I walked over to the wall for a thick cane made out of rubber.

Boy, do I remember this thing.

Oh, you're back; wonderful.

Never left.

I snorted as I walked back over to a whimpering Evan.

"My name?" Evan asked; child-like.

"Yes," Parker answered, "your name. That should be simple enough, even for an American."

Evan didn't answer, so I brought the cane down hard, vertically, onto his left buttcheek. The screaming was vaguely familiar. While he screamed, I whipped his right cheek for good measure, getting even more yelling from him.

"Your name?"

"Evan!" he gave quickly.

"You are going to have to answer my questions faster if you do not wish to be hurt, boy," Parker said, dispassionately.

"Now, Evan," he continued, "what were you doing at that facility?"

"What do you mean?" I looked to Parker, who nodded. I whipped him twice more with the cane, getting the desired response from our young victim. "I don't understand!" he yelled when the screaming stopped.

"It was a fairly easy question, American," Parker commented. "We found you at a facility. What were you doing there?"

"I… I was…," Evan said, stalling.

I nailed him again. He was breathing harder than ever when the shrieking stopped. His butt was looking like it had jail cell bars on it. The lines were thick and angry red.

"Stop stalling, boy!" Parker growled.

"I was going to school," the boy replied.

"And just what were you learning there?"

Evan stalled again, but this time, I'd lined up to his left. So, when I lashed his backside again, the line was horizontal, crossing the previous ones. I thought he'd torn a few throat muscles out with that yell. But, it wasn't over, yet.

"I…"

He took too long and got two more from the cane. His backside was now looking like a waffle iron. I smirked, knowing full well what that felt like.

"PLEASE! STOP HITTING ME!" he screamed at us.

"Answer the question and the hitting will stop; what were you learning there?"

"It was normal school stuff!"

"You are lying," Parker said, simply, and Evan got three more lashes of the cane.

"PLEASE!" Evan bellowed. "I can't tell you."

"Oh? And why not? Nothing seems to be preventing your mouth from working."

"No, it's just…," he said, stalling again. I looked to Parker and he gave a quick shake of his head. I waited while Evan breathed heavily, gathering his thoughts. "It's just that… they'll kill me if I say something."

Parker walked over and grabbed him by the chin. Even though Evan couldn't see anything, he raised the boy's head up, holding on tight.

"So will I if you don't." Parker backed off, allowing Evan's head to fall. "We are going to give you some time to think over your situation. When we return, I expect more cooperation from you."

I gave the kid two quick lashes and then we walked out.

"That was fairly mild," I said once the door was closed. "I took a lot worse, you know."

"You were a special case, Seth," he said simply.

Ain't that the truth.

Piss off.

Always a bridesmaid; never a bride…

I wasn't sure which was worse; having that voice or not having that voice. At that time I was opting for the former. It seemed to be the full embodiment of my more rapier wit. But, at that time, I certainly didn't need the sarcasm.

Parker headed to his office while I went into the viewing room to keep an eye on Evan. The door opened and Tom walked in. I smiled and nodded to him as he sat down next to me. For a few minutes, we just stared at Evan hanging in his misery in the room. It seemed weird to me to be on this side of it; especially after just two years of going through it myself. I almost felt like I belonged in there as well.

"You okay?" he asked finally.

"I kind of miss the others; James, Leon, Mike."

Tom was about to answer back when Darren Nash entered the torture chamber. Evan was immediately on the defensive, but Nash didn't say a word. He just walked around to stand between his legs and unzip his fly. All three of us knew what was coming next. I began massaging my hardening cock through my pants as Tom chuckled.

"Sadist," he playfully chided me.

"Pervert," I retorted.

But, just as Nash pulled his cock out to line up at Evan's backdoor, Tom and I both pulled our pants down. I glided into his lap to place myself over his manhood. When Nash took Evan's hole, getting a loud scream from it, I pushed myself down on my own personal spear. I grunted, but kept going.

Nash was not kind about taking the boy; not in the least. He forced him to take all of his cock brutally. He could have used the chain in Evan's middle to use, but he grabbed the boy by the hair to hang on to.

While Evan endured his own rape, I fucked myself on Tom's cock, stroking my boyhood with a frenzy. I peaked first, though, but I didn't stop giving Tom his pleasure. He was next, releasing his seed into my innards for safekeeping. We watched Evan get raped for a solid fifteen more minutes while we relaxed and recovered.

We redressed as Nash zipped up and exited the room. Tom kissed me and left our room as well. I stayed to keep an eye on Evan. The boy cried for quite some time, but it soon evolved into whimpers and moans.

Parker and I went back to talk to Evan about an hour after that. Evan jilted a little as we entered; he'd probably slipped into an uneasy nap.

"Get some sleep, boy?" Parker asked as he walked up to him.

"Please…," the boy whined.

"Tell me what I want to know, and you will be let go," Parker said evenly.

"But I can't. Please believe me."

"I believe you, boy, but that changes nothing; I still need to know what you know. Tell me and it will be over."

"Promise?" he asked innocently.

I had to grab my mouth with one hand and hold onto my stomach with the other or I would have burst out laughing. I simply stalked away to the side of the room to recompose myself. When I turned back around, Parker was giving me a sort of smirk, but with a glare that told me to stop. It wasn't easy, but I managed to gain the composure I needed and then took my place next to the horizontal child.

Still looking at me crossly, Parker told Evan that he would be let go when he gave up the information. Evan sighed.

"We… were being trained to spy on you," he said, giving up.

I was a little disappointed. We'd only just gotten started on the boy, and already, he'd given in. Parker sighed as well, knowing that it should have gone on for longer.

"He is yours," he said to me and turned. Evan jerked his head up.

"What?!" he cried, disbelieving. "You said-"

"-I lied," Parker answered, interrupting him.

"NO!!! Wait!"

Parker left the room, giving me pretty much full reign in doing what I wanted with the boy. I grabbed a whip off the wall and lashed his side with it. Evan yelled, but it didn't stop me from doing what was necessary. I tagged his side with the whip several times, each time with just the tip of it.

I moved to the other side to match the left one, making sure it was even. His cock and balls, from behind, were next.

"STOP! PLEASE STOP!" he cried out after the third one nailed his jewels. "YOU'RE KILLING ME!!!!!"

I got him seven more times in the privates before I stopped. I replaced the whip on the wall and took down four sets of chains. They were connected to the manacles on his wrist and ankles, and then to the chain in the middle. I raised him up a little, and then disconnected the ones leading to the wall. His midsection dropped down when I let the chain go from the belt. All of his weight now rested on his extremities. His tummy was only about six inches [15 cm] from the floor, so I took him up another six inches [15 cm] or so.

From there, I released a blast of scalding hot steam from the floor. He reared his head back and shrieked in agony. Writhing in his bonds, I let another one go. He pulled at the restraints, but they didn't offer much help in getting him any relief from the hot gasses. I kept it up several more times, with each one getting worse.

The fight in him was totally gone, but the session was not over with. He needed a lesson about those that are out in the world.

I let him down to the ground. All the tension was released in his arms and legs, allowing him to put them on the floor. He didn't move. I walked to the side and pulled the sawhorse to the middle of the room.

"Oh, God, no," he groaned as I lifted him from the floor. I knew better than to say anything to him. My prepubescent voice would give away the ruse.

I put him on the sawhorse and released the chains from the manacles, but put them to the device. His upper arms were then attached to it, followed by his thighs. I went behind him, noticing the blood from his rape, but ignoring it as well, and began binding up his small nuts.

"Please, no more," he begged.

I strapped them down to the end and then left him for a moment. The wall had an opening where a pole could be inserted into a fucking machine. I attached the pole and then put a thick, eight-inch [20 cm] long dildo on the end. It was lined up to his hole. When it touched his personal cavity, he reared his head up, knowing something else was about to invade him.

"Nooo, not again," he groaned and begged again.

With a flick of a switch, the rod shot forward, impaling him viciously. He reared again and screamed again. The machine made him take it all the way to the hilt and then it pulled out till just the head was still inside. I set the controls to give him a brutally hard fuck and then left the room.

I had lunch in the viewing room while Evan continued to be fucked harder than ever. Simon walked in after a while to watch the show.

"Gave up too soon?" I nodded. "Can't blame the kid."

"Simon, even you lasted longer than he did. Hell, Mike outlasted him."

"Yeah, Parker said that he was the first to ditch."

"Anyone else give up?"

"Just Max; an hour after Evan."

"How's Ethan doing?"

"Holding his own," he said and then got a kind of smirk on his face. "Of course Lon is making things as difficult as possible. He actually spit at Powers's face."

"Ya gotta give him credit; he's got guts."

"Yeah, too much of them."

He sat there for a few more minutes, watching the machine rape the living shit out of Evan, and then left for one of the other rooms. When I figured that the torture wasn't doing much to him any longer, I left to talk to Parker about changing things up. Parker thought that I had a good idea and let me do it.

I'd decided a little mind game would probably work wonders here. So, I entered the room and removed the dildo from the boy's backside. Blood and brown stuff was all over it, but that would be his job to clean it up later. He gasped in relief.

I went to the wall and pulled off a hammer. I laid it on his back. He flinched. From there, it travelled down his back to his butt. I tapped the welts lining his backside a few times with it before going between his legs. When the hammer touched the boy's cock, he got scared.

"Jesus, no," he said with considerable fear.

I pulled it back and landed it hard on the stalk of his cock. He screamed as if hell itself was in the room. I didn't hit him as hard as I could with it; more to get his attention. When he'd stopped screaming, I tapped his nuts.

"PLEASE! NO! NOT THAT!"

I tapped them pretty hard a few times, but not too hard. He groaned when I took it away. I reared back again and nailed the hammer right where it was intended; the sawhorse right next to his groin. He'd squinted, anticipating the hit, and when it came he yelled, but then stopped.

I dropped the hammer on the floor next to him and walked around to his head. I yanked his head up by his hair so I had his complete attention.

"Remember that, Evan," I scathingly told him, and then threw his head down.

"Seth?" he asked as I began removing his limbs from the sawhorse. "This… wasn't real?"

"The lines in your butt are real enough," I informed him.

"Why?" he gasped out as I helped him stand.

"Follow me," I told him and walked out of the room.

I had to stop at the door to wait for him. After all, he'd been in there, in one place, for longer than he'd thought possible. It had been a while since he'd been in the PR, so he wasn't used to the abuse.

"What you have to understand, Evan," I said, once we were upstairs, "is that you guys are doing a job that's extremely dangerous.

"Forgetting for a moment that you're putting yourself in harm's way, but also others know things as well. Imagine having to put your very life into someone else's hands just because they know you."

"What do you mean?"

"What if Jake were captured by someone? How long do you think it would take someone before he broke and began spilling his guts about everything? You broke down in less than one day.

"One little mistake could cost you not only your life, but others as well."

"I didn't know."

"Not to mention that there are those in the world that would love to fuck, torture, and kill a kid just for the simple pleasure of it. And then there's one last possibility."

"What?"

"That it's extremely possible that you'll be asked to have sex and/or be tortured to do your job. There may be only that one way into an organization or area and be believed that you're a simple kid while still holding on to your sanity.

"You have to know what it feels like to go through this type of shit so that when it happens you can deal with it while still screaming your head off."

"Did you go through this?"

"Everyone went through this," I said with a look. "But, it took damn near a week of them torturing me before it stopped, and they never got me to say anything."

"How did it stop?"

"One of them made a mistake and I caught on to what was going on," I said with a smirk of satisfaction. "But, that was my life, my test, my endurance. You have to go through yours."

"Or?"

We were at the main door that I'd once arrived at to test myself. The sun shown into the room nicely. The beauty wasn't lost on me as I turned to face him fully.

"Or you'll be taken from this program and Ethan will be an only child," I said simply.

He got a shocked look on his face, understanding fully what I was implying.

"What do I need to do?"

"Find the strength to get past the bullshit of this place. And know that however bad things are here, they're worse if things go badly out there."

I turned and began walking away. He was behind me a few seconds later. I wove the two of us through the labyrinth of the facility to the door going into the training area.

"In here are your cages," I said, and then motioned down the hallway. "Down there are the stairs leading back down to the rooms you were just in. It is your choice."

With shoulders slumped, he turned towards the hall to the stairs.

I put a hood over his head and the harness over that, pretty much blocking out everything, when we first stepped into the room. After that, I pulled his arms behind his back and bound his wrists to each other and then his upper arms just above the elbows.

Letting him be for a moment, I put a stand to the side with an abnormally large dildo on the top. I pulled him over to have him squat over the top, bending him at the knees. I linked a chain attached to a pulley to the cuffs on his wrists. I cranked the pulley until he speared himself down on the dildo.

He screamed again as it tore into him, but I didn't stop until the head was just past his sphincter barrier. Once that was in, getting another cry from him, I stopped. Now, he had to rely on his leg muscles to keep himself off the rest of the dildo. He didn't last long when he began sliding downward. It invaded him more so, sliding further into his young body.

Evan went down more and more, getting more of the rubber cock into him, making him hurt more and more. When he was down far enough, I walked over and unzipped my pants. I fished out my good-sized cock, grabbed the harness on his head, and brought his mouth to my crotch. He didn't open his mouth.

"Open," I told him, putting his mouth against my pubis. He kept his mouth shut. I slapped him hard enough for him to loose a little on the dildo. He screeched and then pulled back up.

"Open," I repeated. I got no response, so I slapped him hard on the other side. This time, he knew it was coming, so he was ready. It took five more hard hits before he opened his mouth.

I shoved my cock inside, only to get his teeth. This time, I punched his head; hard. One more time and he released my cock.

"Oh, you want to play, huh?" I said, putting my cock away.

I went around behind him and yanked him down hard on the dildo. I was sure someone in Ohio heard his cry. I pulled him up by his harness and shoved him back down again. I fucked him on that thing several more times, making him feel every last one of them. After that, I released him from there, pulled the dildo out, only to replace it with the real thing.

With his arms over my shoulder, I forced my cock into him. It wasn't the same size as the dildo, but it was enough to know I was displeased with him. I fucked him as hard as I could for the next half hour before I orgasmed and pulled out.

"I got you on that one," he said as I zipped up.

Not on this one, though.

I manacled his ankles together and pulled him up to hang upside down. I put clover clamps on his nipples, linked to the floor, and then took the slack out of them by the chain attached to his feet.

Evan begged me to stop after just a few seconds, but there was no way that was going to happen. The cane was used on his butt, legs, feet, stomach, and crotch until I was tired of it. When I was done, I unzipped my fly and let the acrid fluid of urine run down his body. He would be smelling that for a long time.

With one last punch to his nuts, I left the room. Ethan looked worse than his brother, but had not said a single thing. In fact, he was cursing out anyone that stepped in the room, fighting the whole way. Some of the others had given in by this time, but the torments weren't over for them.

Ayden, who was tapped for posing as Powers's slave, was enduring a lot, but riding through the pain quite well. Jesus managed for a short while, but then gave in. Only one impressed us all; Lon.

Lon was getting cornholed by Powers and taking Tom down his throat when I walked into the viewing room of his particular torture chamber. Parker was there ahead of me, making notes. When I saw his white skin, the one tale-tell sign that it was him in the room, I turned to Parker.

"Lon?"

"And he hasn't said a word," Parker answered, nodding.

"Not even a scream?"

"Oh, he's screamed, but that's all he's done. No words, whatsoever. To say I'm impressed would be putting it mildly."

"Agreed."

We watched as Lon squirmed while getting double-fucked by two extremely large cocks.

"I'm gonna hate tonight," I commented.

"Why?"

"Because it's going to take Tom forever to cum," I answered back with a smirk. Parker chuckled and we went back to watching the show.

Charles took my place watching Evan while I headed back to my apartment. Tom walked through the door a few hours later. I'd stripped and was lying on the bed with my legs spread open.

"That an invitation?"

"I don't know," I said, still reading the book, "think you can get it up after doing that to Lon?"

"I think I can manage," he shot back.

Tom fucked me unceasingly for over an hour with his magnificent tool. At first, it was just me on my stomach until we moved up to have me on my hands and knees.

"Will you hurry the fuck up?" I asked after forty-five minutes of taking him. My asshole was getting sorer than ever.

"Hey, I've cum three times already, today," he said, with a particularly hard, lascivious thrust.

"Grab my hair," I suggested. He did and began using it to get leverage in fucking me even harder.

After another half hour's time, he finally shot a diminished load into my bowels. Tired and sore, I collapsed back down to the bed; spent.

I woke the next day sorer than I'd been in forever. Charles had worked Evan over pretty well throughout the night, and the boy was looking pitiful. It didn't stop me from doing my job, though. Charles had turned him over to hang from his wrists, but he was stretched to his limits, looking like every connection was going to pop. He tasted the sting of the whip over more parts of his body than he cared to imagine.

I tortured him for the full day and then allowed him to rest that night in the cage that I was once put into. I'd tied him into a severely tight hogtie and then threw him into the room for the night. Tom was too tired to fuck, and I was too sore, so we just fell asleep in each other's arms.

The torture lasted for a week for all of them. Evan was particularly tormented by me. So much so, that for a week afterward, he was walking like he had weights attached to his balls. All of them were in sorry shape when I told them the truth of what had been going on.

The next week, recovery took place. Lon recovered the quickest. Evan took the longest, and was off-limits from the instructors for two weeks.

On the Monday after their recovery, I had something to do. I walked into the living quarters area and had them line up.

"Okay," I told them, "you know that from now on, the instructors are going to be making your lives worse." They didn't like the sound of that, but nodded. They knew what was coming. "So, all of you, except Lon, go on to the classroom."

They were a little shocked, but walked out.

"Why me?" he asked when we were alone.

"There's something you need to do," I told him and had him follow me out.

We headed downstairs, where he became a little more apprehensive. I took him into a room where a death row inmate was tied to a chair. His arms were behind him, over the back of the chair, tied to the bar on the legs. A hood covered his head with a gag over his mouth.

I walked over to the pedestal where a 9mil sat ominously. Grabbing the gun, I handed it and the mag to Lon. I motioned to the inmate. Lon got the implication.

"Who is he?" he asked as he loaded the weapon. The slide was pulled back, chambering a bullet.

"Doesn't matter."

"A test?"

"Everything's a test, Lon."

Shrugging, Lon sighed, aimed for the man's head and pulled the trigger. The noise was as loud as I remembered it being. A cleaning crew came in and swept up the mess as I turned to Lon.

"Well done," I told him with a smile. He just shrugged his shoulders.

March continued with the boys getting fucked more times than any of us cared to count. I smiled, remembering those weeks following my time downstairs. I took Max a few times, Jake once or twice, and Evan several times, but never Lon. For some reason, he bothered me. I got the feeling that he'd sell us out if the inclination ever hit him.

By the end of that month, I was really kind of itching for a mission. I let my feelings be known to Parker one day and he told me that there may be one coming up soon. I nodded that I would be patient.

At the beginning of the second week of April, Parker called me into his office. I was to go into Romania.

"But," he said, hold me up a little.

There's always a 'butt'.

Quiet…

"I want you to take someone with you," he finished.

"Let me guess; Lon," I said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"I seem to have trained you too well, Seth," he said with a smirk of his own.

We smiled together and then he laid out the plans for the mission.

Lon was led to the briefing room where I told him the mission. He was a little shocked at being chosen so soon in the training.

"I was chosen quite soon also," I said with a simple look.

From there, the two of us worked out the plan and practiced. I was the leader and sniper. Lon was there for support and coverage. We took about a week to finish practicing and then got ready to leave Saturday. He was good, I'd have to give him that much. Not that he reminded me of anything close to myself, but he kept up very well.

Friday night, I spent getting in one last fuck with Tom. We got kind of wild, with me being tied to the bed in a spread-eagled fashion and him just going to town on my young ass as hard as he could. I thought that after tormenting youngsters downstairs that he'd be too worn out to do anything, but he got it up with his usual ease.

The next morning, I got a farewell kiss from Tom and then Lon and I headed out for the hangar. I smiled quickly when I saw that his collar was gone. He seemed to be more introspective along the way, so I let him stew inside himself. As long as he did his job, then his mind processes were his own.

We arrived at the takeoff, ready to go. The flight was going to be a long one, so Lon and I busied ourselves with idle conversation. I was really curious about Lon, and wanted to find out more about him, but as he wasn't all that gregarious, I let it go.

The two of us got ready about an hour away. We checked our gear and then stood at the tailgate. He seemed okay, but I tapped him on the shoulder to make sure. He nodded that he was. The gate lowered and when the light turned green, we launched ourselves into Eastern Europe.

Lon and I landed just over the border in Romania without being seen. Once assembled and our parachutes hidden, we headed straight to Bucharest; their capitol city. It wasn't all that far, all things considered, but it still took us over three days to get there.

We slipped into the city completely unnoticed. There was an abandoned building that was easily accessible, so after stowing our gear, we started looking around. The clothes we had helped us blend into the surroundings so well, that no one gave us a second glance.

Lon was the one that found our target; their vice-president. Our government wanted to keep the president in power, but his vice was way too politically extreme. We watched him for two days, gauging how we were actually going to do it, and then altered our plans to make it happen.

After getting our gear, we headed to the ambush site. We radioed into our people with the info needed and they gave us the go. Lon and I slept in shifts at the location with him waking me up as the sun was coming over the horizon. It would be another hour before the target was going to be in place, so we ate.

Finally, it came. The car was coming down the road, and we were ready. I aimed the rifle towards the car. I controlled my breathing enough to get ready. Lon watched my back while I concentrated on the target.

"What the fuck?" Lon asked. I turned to see what he was talking about, only to see an RPG coming our direction.

Our reflexes were the only thing that saved us. We rolled out of the way just as the rocket hit the side of the building we were on. The side of the building fell away, all of a sudden, taking Lon with it. I swung around and grabbed his hand.

"Don't let me fall, Seth," he said, understandably terrified; we were six stories up, after all.

"You trust me?"

"I don't exactly have a fucking choice, do I?" he screamed back at me.

"Skip the sarcasm, Lon!"

"Yes, I do, alright?"

"Then, when I say so, let go of my hand. Alright?"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Just do it!"

I used all the muscles I could muster and began swinging him back and forth.

"NOW!" I yelled at the right time, swinging him into the building on the floor that was under us. He hit the floor and rolled away. I swung my body down and onto the spot he'd just landed.

We left the packs and rifle behind, just to get the hell out of there. Men with a lot more guns than we had were on their way up towards us.

Something's weird, here.

They had an awfully quick response time to get all those men to come after us.

"We're fucked," Lon said.

Not that he didn't have a good point, but we had to start thinking of a way out of there. I saw a window across the alleyway and began running. I jumped through the glass and over the alley. I didn't quite make it. I had to grab onto the window on the far side; my right hand was the only thing that saved me. Lon was right behind me, but landed on the floor beneath me. He also had to go through the window, but that one as opposed to the one I'd gone through. A second later, I felt a hand on my ankle.

"You trust me?" he asked. As I didn't have time for a pithy comeback, I let go.

I swung down as a bullet hit the very spot I had just vacated. But, I knew he didn't have time to haul me back up, so I told him to let go of my leg.

"Are you nuts?"

"Just do it, damn it!"

He let go as another shot rang out. I fell to the third floor, grabbed the window edge, and then swung in to the window itself. I hit a kitchen table, rolled over someone's ignored breakfast, and then hit the floor. Hurt, but still needing to leave, I headed for the door. I exited, with Lon running down the stairs to meet me.

"Man, you got guts," he said with an uncharacteristic smile.

"Just experience," I told him. "You okay?"

"Just a few cuts from the glass. You?"

"Same."

A door downstairs burst open. Lon and I looked at each other.

"Here we go again," he said with a frown.

I grabbed a grenade that was on his harness and pulled the pin. I let the spoon fly and counted. At two seconds, I dropped. It exploded right as the men were getting to the top of the second floor. Bullets sang out in our direction, but I'd backed us off for them to miss.

I thought about going back into the room I'd just left, but nixed it quickly. Instead, I took us down the hall to a room on the opposite side of the building. After shooting the door handle, I kicked in the door to reveal a naked apartment.

Lon went right to the far side of the place to tell me that there was something down there to catch our fall; a dumpster. We were still three stories up, but quickly running out of options. He backed up to me and we took a running start, crashing through yet another window, falling all three stories.

The landing wasn't perfect; I'd banged my arm on the edge, but it wasn't broken. Lon took a hit on the side, probably cracking rib or two, but he hung in with me. As quick as we could, we climbed out of the fowl-smelling bin to begin running again. There was an open field, which I disliked with extreme prejudice, or the other side of the building. We took that option, moving along side the building towards the street. A man with a gun came running around the corner, shouting in Russian, and I tagged him in the forehead.

Things got worse when three more showed up. Lon got two and I got one. I grabbed another grenade and threw it. A car exploded next to the exit, hopefully, sending people scattering in different directions. I had to get two more as we left, but we got out of there. Lon cleared the way past the building on the opposite side of the vacant lot, but as I was about to go around the corner, something tagged my left leg, sending me screaming to the ground.

"What?" Lon asked, turning around.

"Just go!" I told him through gritted teeth. "Get the fuck out of here!"

Lon knew how serious it was, and ran. I rolled over to shoot again, only to face down six men coming for me. There was no way out. I dropped my gun on the ground.

"Go fuck yourself," I challenged the man in front of me.

"That is physically impossible, child," he answered back calmly.

"Try it; just to make sure," I growled.

My foot hurt like hell from the bullet wound. It'd gone completely through, taking a little meat with it, but I knew it would eventually heal. If I lived, that is. I was caught, facing a firing squad, at the very least, and I really wasn't looking forward to the interrogation part of all this. So, my attitude showed up.

"Where is your friend?" he asked for the hundredth time.

"With any luck, fucking your little girl," I shot back. I got a slap across the face for that one. "Or better yet, your four year old son." A backhand to the other side. "I can just see him taking a cock up the ass ri-"

I didn't get to finish. I'd been sitting, tied to a chair, in the office. The next hit had me flying across the room. I landed badly on my left arm, causing a slight cry to escape. I spit blood out of my mouth and onto the floor.

"Guess you didn't like that idea…," I answered back with a slight smile at him. "Or do you…?" I looked at him coming at me. "Maybe you do it, yourself!" I was yanked to my feet and off the chair.

Viciously, I was thrown back to the floor, onto my stomach, knocking some wind out of my lungs. He didn't stop. He practically ripped my pants off me, taking even less time with his own pants, and then lined up to my boyhole.

"This what you were talking about?" he sneered as he hissed in my ear.

"Do your worst, shithead," I challenged in Russian.

He speared me, but his cock was significantly smaller than Tom's. It was thinner and shorter. Another time in my life to be grateful I was used to something so large. I scowled at his clumsy attempt to rape me. When he penetrated my hole, it was like having a finger up there, as opposed to a man's cock.

"Should I be screaming right now?" I asked calmly.

"How many do this to you, boy?" he asked.

"One; and he's a lot better at it than you are," I shot back. "At least he can get it hard."

I received another hard slap for that one. As I just laid there on the floor, he continued laying into me, but I barely even felt his pathetic dick. He came inside me, spilling his juices into my entrails and having some of it drip outside. When he was done, the remainder of my clothes were cut from my body, leaving me completely nude. After that, I was picked back up and slammed back down on the chair.

"Let us begin again," he said, sneering.

I turned away, ignoring him. He straightened back up, looking down at me. His boot moved to begin pressing on my injured foot. I strained as hard as I could and then moved the foot out of the way. He bent down to tie my foot to the leg of the chair and I kicked him in the face with the other one. It was hard enough to draw blood from his nose.

"Fucking brat!" he bellowed, touching his nose.

"Aw, want a Band-Aid?" I scoffed.

In one motion, he sat back up and punched me across the jaw and mouth. I went flying again out of the chair. He was on me soon enough, after I spit out some more of my own blood. I was hoisted up and then thrown hard against the wall behind me.

"I have had enough of you, boy!"

"My thoughts exactly, shithead!" I spewed back at him.

I was marched, force-marched, down the hall and into a cell. I rolled away from him as he closed the door. When he walked away, I looked around the room; two men were sitting off to the side, looking at me.

Oh, shit.

The two men looked at each other and then came for me. In the state I was in, I didn't stand a chance. One held me down, pulling my arms upward, and the other took me from behind. His cock was also smaller than Tom's but larger than the one that had just fucked me.

"You are very loose, boy," he commented in Russian.

"Your dick is just small, Kike!" I knew that would get him riled up. To be told one has a small dick is one thing, but to be called a Jew, in Russia, I might as well have told him he fucked his mother.

I got a slap across the back of my head and a vicious slam of his hips into me. The one that was holding me down began fishing his cock out of his pants. I saw it coming.

"Whatever you put in my mouth, you're going to lose," I warned him.

"If you do anything like that, I will kill you," he answered back.

"I'm dead already, stupid."

He didn't heed my warning. He yanked my head up by my hair, causing my mouth to open. His cock was shoved inside as far as he could get it. I took a deep breath, and bit down. Hard!

The guy screamed, but I continued pressing my advantage. With all the strength I could muster, I pushed my teeth through the fibers of his dick, and eventually they met in the middle. He screamed and slapped my head several times, trying to get me off his dick, but nothing stopped me. This guy was losing it no matter what.

"Let him go!" I heard from behind me.

I twisted my head back and forth as hard as I could, tearing the meat that was in my mouth from its moorings on the man's body. With one final yank, it was ripped from him. My throat muscles forced it up and I spit the blood-engorged digit out onto the floor.

Seconds later, as the man lay screaming on the floor of the cell, the cell door opened. I looked to see two cops standing at the door taking in the whole scene. The man that was raping me from behind, pulled out and rolled off. The other one was curled up into a ball, crying about his missing manhood.

The two cops recovered quickly enough to grab the wounded man and lead him from the cell. When the door closed again, I rolled away from the other one to sit up and face him.

"Want to try that with me again?" I jeered. The man shook his head and stayed against the wall. I used my good foot to push myself further away from him to rest against the other wall.

I knew that eventually they would come for me; it was only a matter of time. I rested, trying to get some of my strength back, knowing I was going to need as much as I could get. My cellmate kept to himself for the whole time.

"How very smart of him."

"A smart Russian; who would have thought?"

"Yeah; didn't see that one coming."

I chuckled lightly at my own joke, but continued to just sit there relaxing.

Finally, some hours later, the door opened again. Two cops entered, pulling the would-be rapist from the room. Another man entered after he left; this one was well dressed and smart looking. But, he was just the prelim for the next person; President Gavril Siperco. I recognized him right off the bat.

"You know who I am," he said, and since it wasn't exactly a state secret, I nodded. "And I know who you are; Seth Addams, an American spy."

"Double-oh seven, at your service," I sarcastically shot at him.

"Do you know what we do to spies?" he asked, kneeling down to get close to eye-level to me.

"Give them a tour of the country?"

"We shoot them," he said, ignoring my witticism.

"Just give me a blindfold and a cigarette, first," I came back with.

"I do not think so."

"Fine; then just the cigarette. I always wanted to pick up a bad habit before I died."

"You do not seem to take this very seriously, Seth," he stated.

"Just get on with it," I said finally, sighing.

"What I meant before, is that you will not be killed," he said with a smile. "At least not yet."

I looked away, not really caring what he had in mind for me. It was going to be some form of torture, or something similar, to be sure. I just didn't want to hear him gloat about it.

"Bring him," he said, standing back up.

Siperco exited and two men entered. They grabbed me and then hauled me to my feet. As the president led the way out, the two men walked me down the hall behind him. The posse left the building to go to the parking lot. Siperco climbed into a car while I was led to a police van. Four cops and the two men stood guard over me while we traveled the capitol city streets.

I was just waiting for an opportunity, but they knew that also. All six pairs of eyes never left me. I didn't know whether to be turned on or proud that I was getting this kind of attention. So, for the duration of the ride, I knelt on the floor, ready to make things difficult if the opportunity presented itself. It didn't.

The truck stopped and I was led out. I saw that we were at the capitol building for this country. As President Siperco walked up the steps, I was led, limping, along behind him. When we entered the building, he told his two assistants to have me cleaned up and then brought to him. If there was one thing that confused me, it was this.

They ran me through a shower, got me cleaned up, and treated my foot. A collar was locked around my neck and then a leash attached to the front. My hands were then locked behind my back. A set of tight manacles with a chain between them were locked onto my ankles.

"Do you know why I am briefly sparing you?" Siperco asked as I limped into his office.

"You want another boy to fuck?" I spat at him.

"You are extremely rude and crass, even for an American. Do you know that?"

"And those are my best qualities," I answered him with the same amount of venom. "Just stop the games and tell me the answer to your riddle."

"Very well," he said with a smug look. "There is something I want you to see, but it will have to wait until tomorrow afternoon."

"What is it?"

"You will have to wait and see."

He nodded to the men keeping me from strangling him with his own necktie and I was turned and then led from the room. We walked the halls until we got to a set of double doors. It was a bedroom suite with a four-poster bed set in the middle.

The two men led me to the bed where I was tied tightly to it, spread-eagled. When I was down and tied, they left the room, closing the door behind them. All I could do, was wait. Too bad I didn't have a gun hidden in my ass; I really could have used one at that time.

Some hours later, Siperco entered the room. He walked to the side of the bed, carrying a plate of food. He offered me a slice from a cut-up apple. I glared up at him.

"You must be hungry," he stated with a smile.

I made to bite him and he pulled the fruit away.

"Not my fingers or you will lose yours; one at a time," he warned.

For some reason or other, I nodded. He fed me the fruit again and I took it. I was fed the meal that way until everything on the plate was gone. Done, he stood and left the room for a bathroom to the side. When he came back inside the bedroom, he was wearing only a robe.

"Figured as much," I commented when I saw him.

"I will enjoy hearing you scream, boy," he said dispassionately.

"Don't count on it," I countered.

My eyes lit up when he removed the robe; he was quite well hung. That thing had to be at least ten inches long and damn thick. He smiled when he saw my reaction. I turned away from him; I'd been through this before.

His weight began pressing me downward into the mattress as he slithered up my small frame. The hairs of his beard grazed the skin of my back when his lips made contact with my shoulder blade. I shuddered at the sensation. As soon as his head cleared my shoulder, I felt his manhood at my backdoor.

Knowing that there was no way to avoid this, I relaxed my gluteal muscles, allowing him easier access. The head began penetrating me, spreading me open.

"Ugghh," I groaned, gripping my fists together, pulling at the ropes. He didn't stop; not that I expected him to. "AGGHH!" I cried as his cockhead broke past my barrier. From there, I grunted, keeping my screams to myself.

"As I said," he remarked, continuing to slice into me.

I ignored his comment and just concentrated on getting through it. More and more of his manhood bore into my body. The pain got worse and worse, but I refused to give him the pleasure of hearing me scream. Taking longer than a short eternity, I finally felt his pubic hairs against my smooth bottom. Moments later, his pubis ground into the same area, completing the journey into me. It was like he had pushed himself into my liver.

"I am impressed, young one," he said casually. "Most of the whores here are screaming by now."

Not really wanting to spout anything back to him, for fear of having all my innards spill out of my mouth, I kept my trap shut.

Pushing himself off my back, with his hand to the back of my head, he began to fuck me properly. My shredded boyhole screamed out in pain as his cock withdrew from me. The fucking thing hurt like nothing else. I felt like I was back in that room with Powers the first time getting drilled.

Siperco made sure I felt every single solitary inch of himself. His cock was driven back into me harder than before. Once all the way in, he pulled out just as far; he knew how to fuck a kid, I'll give him that much. Not really caring too much more about me, he began building into a frenzy until he finally came deep into me.

But, it wasn't over, yet. His cock never deflated. It was like my Marine in Moscow; the fucker just didn't quit. This second time around, though, he acted so similar to Omar that it was scary. He grabbed on to my waist and used my hole to masturbate himself. That was my only purpose for being there for him; to get off as many times as possible.

His cock pummeled me for over an hour before shooting more of his spunk inside me.

"You seem to be bleeding a little back here," he said as if he were reporting the weather.

As if that was news…

He left the room and returned with some bathroom tissue to wipe up the blood and cum seeping out of me. When enough had been mopped up, Siperco sat down next to me. Casually, almost caringly, he ran his fingers along my slim frame. But I wasn't going to fall for that again. He can be as caring as Christ, for all I cared; he was still going to get the business end of 9mil if I ever got the chance.

"You must realize by now that you do not have a chance," he said after a while.

"Whatever," I told him, plainly as bored sounding as I could.

"You have no future but what I give you, child."

"I've heard that before."

"Perhaps, but I do have to tell you; I do not want to kill you."

"I don't care," I said, turning my head around to look at him properly. "Do what you have to, because there is only one thing that will stop me from killing you."

"I can think of several," he said, smirking confidently. "But what is it that you are thinking?"

"Death."

And with that, I turned back away from him.

Being extremely careful that I didn't do anything to escape, Siperco untied me from the bed and then retied me into a tight hogtie. From there, he hung me by my wrists and ankles over the middle of the bed. Before slipping under the covers, he shoved a cloth into my mouth and made sure it stayed there by a leather belt around my head.

Well, this is one way to keep the wound elevated.

I ignored the comment from my voice and just settled in for an extremely long night. One of the many things that came to mind, was, why the hell was I being kept alive? There had to be boys here for him to fuck, so, why me? I had to be used as a bargaining chip with America. But, then, what was it that he was needing me to watch the next day?

I thought about Tom, Simon, and the others at the facility and how I was missing being there with them. I was also worried about Lon, hoping he'd gotten out of the country. I could die without a problem, if I knew that he was safe.

Wait a minute…

The thought came to me right then. How did their forces know where we were so quickly? They had to know something was up ahead of time; no two ways about it. But, how?

I squirmed with both the thoughts in my head and the bindings on my body for well into the night and early morning. Siperco woke me up as the sun rudely shot into the room from below.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, as the gag was taken out of my mouth.

"That's a matter of opinion," I spouted back at him.

He let me down, back onto the bed, for another hard fuck. It hurt worse than the previous night's shagging, but I remained as silent as I could. He only got a few grunts and groans out of me till he came.

I was cleaned up again, tied again as I was the day before, and then led downstairs to his office. Once we got there, I was tied with my back to the front of his desk. My arms were pulled up to rest on the top, but pulled back to their limits. My legs were pulled under the desk and tied apart to the legs on the opposite side.

An hour later, with him going about his business as if nothing strange was going on, an assistant of his brought a television into the room. He flipped it on, turned it to CNN, and left the room without comment.

At noon, or so, lunch was brought in, and I was actually fed again. Believe it or not, but I was actually getting bored until CNN went wild. The anchorman called a halt and the channel cut to a commercial.

Whatever, I told myself.

A minute or so later, the program came back on. The announcer had a worried look on his face as he began reading to the audience.

"We just got word that a few moments ago, a facility designated for the CIA training has been attacked."

"WHAT?!" Instinctively, I knew which building they were talking about, and just who did it. Why else would Siperco have set things up they way he has?

"The building, according to preliminary reports, has been demolished by explosives."

I yanked hard on my bonds, trying to get to Siperco, who had come around the desk to stand to the side. The desk, unknown to me at the time, was bolted down to the floor; it wasn't moving.

"I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, FUCKER!!!!!" I bellowed at him, still trying to get at him through my bonds. I wanted to kill him worse than I wanted Grant, Smith, and Omar. "YOUR DAYS ARE FUCKING NUMBERED! NOTHING'S GOING TO STOP ME!!!"

He ignored me, of course, still watching the program. The building showed up on the screen, and I was right; it was the facility that I'd been calling home for three years, now. I watched, helplessly, as teams swarmed in to help those that were there. Fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, everything was called in to do the job. I had never wanted to be anywhere so badly in my life, but I wanted to be there right then.

I tired myself out, screaming obscenities and threats at Siperco. My arms and legs were worn down fully from trying to escape. I was left in a heap, still tied to the desk, crying, as one word came to my mind.

Tom.

"You have nowhere to go, now, child," he said simply as he sat down in a chair in front of me. "You must know that you have no future in America. But, you can have one with me; here."

I looked up hard and fast at him.

"You must be fucking joking." He just looked at me blankly. "You are going to die screaming, asshole, and I am going to laugh the whole time."

"I am sorry you will not see reason, Seth," he said, sadly, getting up from the chair.

He made a phone call, telling someone to enter. A few minutes later, the door opened and the same two men as the day before walked inside. Siperco walked around the desk to stand in front of me.

"Before you leave me forever, I want to show you how this was done," he said, showing me a file. "We had him there, planted for your group for a while, now. We knew your people would be coming for him soon enough."

He opened the file to show me Lon's picture attached to a form. My anger resurfaced almost instantly. But, it made sense; no wonder things happened the way they did.

"Take him," the president said to the two men.

I was untied and then retied with cuffs. A hood went over my head, next.

"Watch your back, Siperco," I warned and then was pulled from the room.

They took me to a facility outside of town. Knowing people in that area of the world, I was either going to live long enough only to give men some pleasure, or killed off immediately. I opted for the latter of the two. Siperco was right about something; I had nothing else to live for. They might as well go ahead and get it over with.

I was thrown into a tight cell with less room to move around than the cage I was in from the beginning. They fed me a cup of water and a piece of bread an hour or so later. A little beyond that, they came for me. I was yanked from the cell to be led to yet another room.

Three other men met me there. I was tossed around to each of them like a forgotten doll; used and abused and put away wet. All four of them fucked me at least twice before it was over with. Their cocks weren't anything I wasn't used to, so it was just that it took forever.

"We were told to kill you, boy," the one that seemed like he was in charge told me when he had his third fuck with me.

"Then you'd better do it," I gasped as I took yet another man's cock inside me from behind.

"But it would be a waste of such a wonderful ass," he said, getting two others to laugh with him while the last one continued fucking me.

The gang rape lasted another round and then they left me. The room was locked behind them, but I wasn't tied up. The main problem was, that there wasn't anything in the room I could use to get myself out of this. After scoring a zero in that area, I just sat down on the far side of the room.

As I contemplated how many ways I was going to kill Lon if I got out of this mess, I heard the familiar sound of a bullet being fired from a gun with a silencer. I quickly moved to the wall next to the door. I got ready to pounce on whomever was about to open the door. When the door opened, I saw a gun enter and sweep the room. I grabbed it, twisting it out the person's hands. When I circled around with it, Lon was already grabbing for another one.

"Stop!" I told him.

"Seth!" he exclaimed quickly. "Thank God it was you."

"Meaning what?" I asked, still drawing a bead on him. He got a confused look on his face. "What the fuck did you mean by that?"

"I meant, I'm glad I found you," he said, but still looking at me cautiously. "You want to lower that thing?"

I snapped off a round right past his right ear.

"What the fuck was that about?" he asked, shocked.

"Why are you here, Lon?"

"Rescuing your ass. What else?"

"How 'bout killing me to finish the job?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? Kill you?"

I heard some men in the hall, so I quickly grabbed him and pulled him into the room. I put the gun to his head and then closed the door.

"Make a sound, and it'll be your last," I growled at him.

I stayed sharp as I heard three men run past the doorway. When they were gone, I turned my full attention to Lon. Still keeping a bead on him, I circled around to face him fully.

"What's going on, Seth?" he asked.

"That was going to be my question."

"Will you just talk to me?"

"The facility back home was hit; hard."

"What?" I nodded. It took him a moment, but he pieced it together. "And you think I had something to do with it?" I nodded again. "Why would you think that?

I told him about the file Siperco showed me with his picture in it. He denied what I was accusing him of, naturally, but I wasn't going to just give in right then.

"Why would I come here looking for you, if I was working for them?"

"As I said; to make sure I was dead."

"I was here to prevent that!!" I waited for a moment to see what else he had to say about it. "Why would I help rescue you yesterday only to kill you today? If I wanted you dead, I would have just let them do it.

"Think about it, Seth. You always told me to think first. Now, it's your turn."

"Why were you so comfortable killing that guy back at the facility?"

"Because," he said, sighing, "I knew it was coming. Simon had told me that sooner or later, I was going to have to kill someone just because I was told to do it."

He turned and walked away, showing me his back. I never let the gun move away from his body.

"My best friend fucked me over and I beat him for it."

"Yeah, I know."

"What you don't know, is why."

"You were smoking."

"No," he said, turning around to face me. "I gave him a blowjob. He told some of his friends about it and it went from there. I hated him for it.

"When I was sent to that juvie facility, they found about it also, but used that to get whatever they wanted from me. I gave it to them, but I never trusted them with anything. It wasn't till I came to the facility in Virginia that I dared to begin trusting people again. I don't just give away my loyalties easily, Seth. I need them.

"Now, you can trust me, someone you've worked with for over a year, or someone you've just met."

"But how would they have a file on you?"

"How the fuck should I know? All I know is, I didn't betray you or the others. And I don't know how I can convince you of that other than my word. That's all I have left."

Just then, the door opened, and I swung in that direction. I shot, killing the guy entering, but he also took a bullet from a gun fired from beside me. I looked to see Lon holding the gun towards the door.

"Alright," I said, lowering my gun, "if not you, then who?"

"I don't know, but whoever it was betrayed all of us."

I grabbed a set of clothes real quick, and we got ready. From there, Lon and I fought our way through the detention facility, killing just about anything in our path. After two hours of shooting, every single guard in the place was dead; quietly dead, but dead, nonetheless.

There was one man I desperately needed to take out before we left, and that was the head of the place. He was the one in the room I was in when I got there, and there was no way he was going to survive this. Lon and I found him in his office where I put a round through his forehead.

"Now what?" Lon asked.

I still wasn't sure I could trust him, so I kept a close watch on his movements.

"Now, we unleash hell on the city," I said, moving past him.

"Just how're the two of us going to do that?"

"With a little help from our enemies," I finished off with, heading towards the cells.

We opened all of the doors letting over two hundred prisoners escape from the prison. They were all too happy to help us, sort of. With the guards of the prison dead, they went wild upon their release. Some of them were a bit scary in their own right, but I didn't care. We needed a major distraction to confuse those in the city. They also had to know a few people on the outside.

Anarchy had to reign for a while for us to get to where we needed to be. It did. Before the sun came up, the escaped prisoners, their compatriots, and other dissidents in the city rioted. Fires raked through the buildings. People, in groups, ran in every direction, fleeing the destruction.

"Like I said; unleash hell," I told Lon as we approached the center of the city.

"One question, though," he started and I nodded. "If we take out Siperco, then his vice would take over. Weren't we trying to prevent that?"

"Let this country take care of itself. As we don't have orders any longer, I only want Siperco." I told him with a significant amount of intensity. "Preferably dead; with his heart on a platter."

"Isn't that supposed to be 'his head on a platter'?"

"Not in this case," I said venomously. "And if you don't want to come along, I'll understand. This is between me and him."

"You think I can make it back to America without you?"

"Come on, then," I said simply and then walked right past him.

I led the way to the capitol building. When we got there, the whole place was surrounded by their military and policemen. I scowled at the site, but wasn't going to be denied.

"Now what?" he asked as we viewed the scene from our cover.

"Working on it," I answered back.

My options were extremely limited, that was for sure. I surveyed the situation, noting that they only had soldiers or policemen there. A few personnel carriers, but there was nothing more lethal than guns. I guess they didn't think they needed anything heavier. They were wrong.

"Come on," I told him, and turned from the side of the building.

Through the anarchy, we made our way to an armory depot about a mile away. The people totally ignored the two of us, figuring we were just simple boys running for cover or safety. When we got there, I saw that only half a dozen men were guarding it. They had been split up into teams of two.

"Get the guy on the right," I told him, and he nodded when we saw one set walking around.

Two shots later, they were on their way to hell. We shot across the street and into the depot. Lon took out two others while I cut away part of the fence.

He seems to be doing his job.

For now.

Once inside, we split the last two men and then headed to where I wanted to go; the motor pool.

"You gotta be kidding," he said, stopping when he saw where I was leading.

I turned back with a sneer and then turned back around to continue running. I ran up to the first tank that was available; a T-72. I had him help me load four rounds into the tank and then we slipped into it. I gave him brief, real brief, lesson on how to fire the thing with the auto-loader.

"That's it?" he asked when I was done.

"Just point, aim, and shoot; the machine pretty much does the rest."

I started it up, and hit the controls. And we were off. It wasn't exactly fast, but then, it wasn't designed by Lamborghini. For some reason or other, people got out of our way as we moved through the streets. When we were a block away from the capitol building, I stopped the tank.

The men that were protecting it weren't moving. I suppose they thought that the tank was on their side; their mistake. I turned to Lon and asked if he was ready. He nodded.

"FIRE!"

The gun was louder than I thought possible. The shell hit the left side of the line. Men scattered.

"Again; to the right," I told him.

The missile took out the right side of the street, dispersing them even more. I drove the tank on the left side of the street, telling Lon to aim to the right. I told him to fire again when we got a good shot. The right portion of the road exploded nicely.

"Wheel the turret around and get the left as I go up the steps."

He nodded and the top began turning while I continued driving. The war machine climbed the steps, barreling down on the building itself. Lon shot the last shell we had, causing any pursuit from the left to be out of the question. I rammed the tank into and through the front door.

Honey, I'm home.

I came out firing when I lifted the lid, nailing three men in suits as they rounded the corner. I then exited the vehicle, looking for Siperco. Lon took up behind me, keeping the Romanian militia off our backs.

He wasn't in his office, but I figured that. I thought I'd check the obvious first. After searching for another ten minutes, believing that each one was going to be my last, I finally found him.

"How do you know?" Lon asked when I told him where he was.

"Because five men don't stand outside an empty room," I retorted.

"Last one," he said as I grabbed the grenade from his chest.

I nodded that I understood and then pulled the pin. After the spoon flew, I counted to three seconds, and then threw it around the corner. It exploded, killing all five men instantly. Lon and I tapped them again for good measure as we approached the door.

Through signals, I told Lon what to do. He nodded and we kicked the door in. Someone shot, but we weren't there. I turned the corner and drew a bead on one man; he was dead instantly. Lon got one other one. The last one was Siperco with a gun in his hand.

"Drop it," I growled at him.

He looked at me, knowing it was useless. In a flash, he pulled the gun back and pointed it at his temple. That was NOT what I wanted. My last bullet shot the gun from his hand before he could pull the trigger. I quickly discarded the gun, to grab one of the ones on the floor. I advanced on Siperco, keeping a bead on him.

"Nothing coming, Seth," Lon said, taking his place at the door.

"Just kill me, boy," Siperco growled at me as I got to him, "because you are not getting anything from me."

"We'll see about that," I answered back. "As you can now assume, I don't believe what you said about Lon.

"Tell me who it is; it'll spare you a lot of pain."

He ignored me. I shot his good shoulder, sending him backwards. I picked up a wooden nameplate from the desk and as his back was turned, I nailed him across the back of the head; hard. I hit him one more time to be sure he was out.

"There was a dolly in the hallway; bring it here," I told Lon. He nodded and left. While he was gone, I took care of the bullet holes I put into my target. I didn't want him to die; at least not yet.

I tied the soon-to-be-ex-president to the dolly when Lon had brought it. It was resting on four wheels, so both of us were able to guide it through the building. Lon took one side, and I took the other, pulling it along behind us.

We only killed three men on the way to the garage; we'd done all of our killing on the way in, apparently. I found a non-descript car and we threw Siperco into the back seat. I had to break the car out of the garage, going through the gate, using the bumper to entice the guards to vacate the spot.

I maneuvered the car through the streets, trying not to hit too many people, but some did sort of get in the way.

"You need to work on improving your driving," Lon said after I hit and ran over a Romanian soldier.

"What're you talking about?" I asked, still concentrating on my driving. "This IS improved. I would have missed that guy a few months ago."

Lon chuckled as we continued attempting to leave the city. Half an hour later, we cleared the urban setting and made it into an abandoned part of the country. I found a deserted warehouse off the beaten path to hide out in. We tied Siperco on the floor to four support beams in a spread-eagled style.

We ate a small meal while we waited for him to wake up.

"What're we going to do now, Seth?" Lon asked between bites.

"Beat the shit out of him," I hissed.

"No, I mean, now that there's no one at the facility," he answered back. "What happens to us once this is over with?"

I stood up and turned away from him. All I could think about right then was Tom.

"There's nothing for us anymore," I said back to him. "Our chain of command is dead, our friends are dead, there's nothing.

"When this is over with, I'm out," I said, turning back to him. "The money be damned, I'm done."

"They'll come for you, you know."

"With Parker and Jones dead, the only one that knows about any of us is President Taylor."

"You'll miss this, Seth," he said with a smirk.

"I've lost too much to miss any of this, Lon."

"How touching," I heard from behind me.

Wiping my eyes clear, I turned to face a conscious prisoner. He was glaring at me with an ice-cold look. I grabbed a two-by-four and stalked over to him.

"Spare us the time, Siperco, and just tell me who your mole is," I demanded when I arrived.

"What is it you Americans say? 'Go fuck yourself'?"

"Your pain, but you were warned," I said, swinging the board to nail his left forearm, breaking both bones.

He screamed as we heard the crunch of bones being shattered. I didn't ask again, I just took the wood to the upper arm's bone as well. The scream was impressive.

"I got three more limbs, a pelvis, several ribs; all kinds of choices," I told him, warning him. "Plus these," I said, tapping his pants between his spread legs. "It's up to you."

Siperco looked away, and got all three bones on his right arm broken.

"At least now they match," I commented to him with a certain amount of satisfaction. Lon chuckled from behind me as I took aim at his ribs.

Not getting anything from the man, I swung hard, getting at least three of them to break. The echo of his scream lasted at least a minute longer than his actual one.

"I can keep it up, asshole," I told him.

"Alright," he said as I took aim for his nuts. I'd pulled the board back and was about to swing, but stopped. "Simon."

"WHAT??!!"

He nodded, looking away from me. I looked at Lon, and he was as surprised as I was, and then back to Siperco.

"We found him in Eastern Europe last year and convinced him to work for us."

"Brainwashed him, you mean," I corrected, remembering how Simon was when he returned from that particular mission. Even so, my rage was barely being kept in check.

"It was not all that difficult," he said, turning back to look at me, "he has no love for your country; you in particular."

"Why point the finger at Lon, though?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"A safety. If you had lived, I was hoping that you would have shot him and no one would have been the wiser."

Instead of hitting him with the board, I kicked him just as hard in the nuts; out of frustration, anger, and pure hatred at what they'd done to my friend. Siperco screamed, of course, but I was way beyond caring. I threw the board down and walked away. I needed some time to myself.

At the side of the building, I thought about Simon and all we'd gone through together. We'd had our problems through the past several years, but I never thought Simon would have done this. I just didn't think he'd have been capable of doing something this devious. It was like learning that my parents had fucked me over. I felt like my stomach had been sucker-punched. Taking a deep breath to recover my senses, I walked back over.

"Before I kill you," I said, scathingly to Siperco, "where is Simon now?"

"A safe house in New York," he said, and I knew he was telling the truth. I nodded and then turned to Lon.

"Tie his hands together."

Lon nodded and did as I told him. When that was done, I took the free end of the rope and tied it to the tail of the car. His legs were cut loose.

"You know how to drive this thing?" I asked to a smiling Lon. He nodded and got into the driver's seat.

I shot out the back window and then cleared the glass out. From there, I climbed onto the back of the car and sat down on the backboard, looking at Siperco.

"Not over ten, Lon," I told him as he put the car into 'drive'.

"You got it."

The car pulled out and Siperco began running behind it. I kept a close watch on him as we got back out onto the street. He lasted all of about two miles [3 km] before tripping. We didn't stop. He screamed as we drug him along behind the car; the broken bones didn't help, either.

"Take it up to twenty, Lon," I shouted to him.

The car sped up, dragging the man behind us. There was no way he was going to be able to stand back up. All he could do was scream as more and more of him was peeled away on the asphalt. Siperco passed out soon enough and I told Lon to take it up another ten.

"Hold her steady," I said after a little more fun. Taking aim, I shot the man in the head, causing some of the matter to explode.

I didn't bother stopping to untie him from the back bumper. I moved into the passenger seat as Lon continued driving eastward. Neither one of us talked while we continued the drive; no words were necessary.

We made it across the border to Bulgaria easily enough. The car had died about ten miles [15 km] from the border, but I wasn't going to use it anyway. We'd crossed on foot and then headed south towards Turkey. A train eased our passage south, but we still had about a hundred miles [150 km] to go when we jumped off it.

The journey wasn't all that difficult. The main problem we had was food. Both of us were used to eating only about one meal a day, but getting even that was never easy. After four more days of travel, we crossed the border into one of the most notorious countries in the world for boys.

"You think the stories are true?" Lon asked, absentmindedly as we walked farther south.

"I hope so, because we don't have anything else to trade," I answered.

We stole a car when we were about two days south of the border. It got us into Istanbul before it died of malnutrition. From there, I knew it was going to be tricky. We were going to have to find a boat going to America, and those had to be rare. It was early morning when Lon and I made it to the shipping piers on the western side of the city.

After doing some looking and searching, we located a few ships heading westward; one looked promising. It was going to London. I smiled at that.

"What?" he asked when he saw me smile.

"We'll get some help in London," I answered, still liking what I saw. But, I turned serious when I looked at him. "You know what we're going to have to do to get home, right?"

Lon nodded and then we turned towards the shipping lanes. Reasoning that we didn't need them any longer, we threw our guns into the water as we walked along the walk. I spotted the boat I was looking for a few minutes later. A man was working the side of the ship as we walked up. He looked us up and down as we approached.

"Is your captain here?" I asked in Turkish. He got a sort of quizzical look on his face, but nodded anyway.

I nodded back and we boarded. We found the bridge of the ship and the captain was talking to another man when we entered. He stopped when he saw us.

"What do you want, boy?" he asked in English.

"A ride," I answered simply. His right eyebrow shot up and then returned to normal as he looked me over. "Basically, passage to London."

"We are not a cruise ship," he said with a warning in his voice.

"I know that," I said, looking at him intently. "And we are willing to work the entire way, doing…" I looked to the man standing next to him, and then back to the captain. "Anything."

"Anything?" the other man asked. The captain turned to him and told him to leave. Disgruntled, but accepting, the man left, with one last look in our direction.

"You do not realize what you are talking about, boy," the captain stated once we were alone.

"Yes we do," Lon argued.

"And as long as we're not maimed or overly done, we'll do it," I added.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

We nodded.

"Very well," the captain conceded. He told us to go to his cabin and wait for him there.

We nodded and headed off. Lon spotted the room with a sign on the door marking the correct room. The name above it read 'Deniz Ozan'. We entered and then showered in the private shower. It was then that I saw a scar on Lon's leg, right next to his groin I'd missed before.

"It happened in juvie," he said, shrugging when I asked about it.

Knowing what we were in for, we decided to skip redressing, and just wait for Ozan. Lon seemed okay with what was going to happen, but a little more nervous than I was. I asked him about it.

"I'm okay," he said with a shrug. "It's not like we have any real choices in this."

Ozan walked into the room as I was about to offer a rebuttal, so I kept my mouth shut. The man didn't say anything, but simply began removing his clothing. I went to his small bed to lie on my stomach, waiting for him. As he walked over, I saw that he was about the same size as Tom in the crotch.

Spreading my legs, I took a deep breath. Ozan mounted me and then began sliding his cock into my body. I groaned as I took him; it had been a few weeks, after all.

"You are used to this," he said, needlessly, once he was fully embedded inside me.

"More than you can imagine," I grunted back.

I looked over to Lon to see him stroking his stiffy. Smirking, I motioned for him to join us. I put him down in front of me, to straddle my face. As Ozan continued laying into me, I began sucking Lon's small dick.

Under my expert coaxing, Lon came a few minutes later, but it took the man fucking me a lot longer to finish. When he did, it seemed like gallons of jizm were pumped into my innards.

"With all that," I said to Ozan, "you must have a ton of kids."

"Only one," he answered, chuckling.

The ship left the docks an hour later, with the two of us still in the captain's room. Once we were clear of the area, Ozan came back to the room for me again. I rode his large tool for over half an hour until he came inside me. I sucked Lon off again, also.

"You seem to enjoy this," he said as I pulled off him.

I shrugged back at him, but kept quiet. Silently, I missed Tom. It wasn't his cock I missed the most; it was him. I would have to mourn him later, though.

Ozan told us to go to the others. Lon and I knew what that would mean. It was a crew of fifteen and we were going to take them all. We weren't on the deck longer than two minutes before three men came at us. I was driven down to all-fours, taking one from behind and the other down my throat. Lon had to suck the third one.

Just as the one in my boyhole finished, two more men came out on the deck. Lon took one and I took the other. He squealed as the man speared him and I saw what he was crying about; it was fucking huge. The cock wasn't long, but it was thicker than anything even I'd taken. The man grabbed Lon's waist and shoved inside as hard as he could, causing Lon to scream again.

That whole day, we spent taking cock after cock inside us. When one was done, it was almost immediately replaced by another. Mouth or ass; it didn't matter. We knew what we were getting ourselves into, but it was still taxing on our young bodies. As they were winding down for the day, I also had to take 'Stumpy', as we called him. I thought I'd die from that thing tearing into me.

When it was over, we headed back to the captain's cabin for one last fuck and some sleep. We both showered, Ozan fucked Lon this time, and then we turned over for our rest. Worn out, and well fucked, we were gone within a minute.

Our London-bound journey took another three days of getting fucked. Stumpy just had to have each of us twice daily.

"I'll never walk right again," Lon complained after the third day of getting it from him.

"I know the feeling," I commented, thinking the same thing. "Tom's was easier to take than that guy's cock." Lon knew how I felt about talking about him, so he just let the comment dissipate.

When we made it into London harbor, Ozan, after getting one last fuck with the two of us, gave us a couple hundred dollars each.

"Good luck to you, child," he said, hugging me. For some reason or other, I hugged him back.

"We will miss you," Stumpy called to us as we walked down the plank away from the ship. I turned and gave him a good-natured middle finger. "We will miss that, too."

"I won't," Lon said as I turned around.

I smiled to him and then we made our way into the city. I knew what I was searching for, the only thing was to find it. I found a cyber café where I could look up what I needed. The place we were looking for, was the Weatherby residence right outside of the London limits.

"How far?" Lon asked.

"Just over ten miles [15 km]," I told him after looking it up on the map.

I wrote down the directions and then we skated out of the area. Along the way, we got some better fitting clothes, or at least ones that didn't belong in a former Soviet Republic.

As to not to attract any undue attention, Lon and I walked the necessary ten miles [15 km]. But, to us, it wasn't all that difficult. A person's body can get used to the most strangest of things.

"So, just who is it that we're going to go see?" he asked once we were on our way.

"One of my own classmates. His name's Benjamin Young."

He nodded and I told him a little more about Ben as we walked. We arrived at the house as the sun was going down. The thing was, for lack of a better word, fucking huge.

"Does that thing have it's own zip code?" Lon asked when we saw it for the first time.

"More like area code," I shot back.

There were at least three stories, several sections, and more than ten acres of plush land surrounding it. If there was anywhere good to serve as a slave, this had to be it. Hell, I wouldn't care if I were raped on a daily basis if I got to serve here. I hoped Ben felt the same way about it. Only one way to be sure.

The gate had a guard at it, but that was it. The rest of his security was electronic. We went to a place close to it where I could observe the cameras and not be seen. As we were watching, Weatherby arrived in his limousine.

"Not too bad looking," Lon commented as we saw him exit the car for the walkway.

After another two hours of watching the place, I came up with a plan for getting us in there. I told Lon to do exactly as I told him or it was over. He nodded.

When I was ready, I took off for the side of the fence. When I got there, I timed it and then Lon ran over. He boosted me over the top and then I helped him over. After we dropped down, we took off for the house. With a little device Lon had with him, I managed to pick the lock and we slipped inside unnoticed.

By the time we'd made the attempt, most of the house was gone for the day. So, as we made it inside properly, it was mostly vacant and dark. Lon and I heard some faint noises coming from the upstairs area, so we began making our way there. I felt a little naked, not having a gun, but as we weren't here to kill anyone, I made sure it didn't bother me too much.

The noises we had heard were coming from the fourth, yes, fourth, floor. The floor was made to accommodate one thing, and one thing only; the master bedroom and bath.

Must be nice to be this rich.

When we got to the large double-doors, we waited to listen to the sounds. They were sounds of someone being gagged and tortured. Using hand-signals, I told Lon what we were going to do, and he nodded in agreement. On the count of three, we threw the doors open and rushed the room. The sight was enough to make us stop.

Charles Weatherby was standing at the foot of the bed with a leather strap in his hand, ready to strike. Julia Weatherby was lying flat on her back on the bed, with her legs spread out as wide as possible.

Ben was in between the two. He was bent at the waist, with his butt in the air, feet on the rail at the foot of the bed, and his ankles secured to the posters. His arms were tied behind his back, each wrist tied to the opposite elbow and a strap leading to the collar around his neck from the forearms. His mouth was planted in Julia's snatch with a leather belt wrapped around her butt and his head, securing it right there. His raised butt was red from taking several beatings.

"What the hell is this?" Weatherby asked, still in mid-swing.

"I was going to ask the same thing," I answered.

"Look," he said, lowering the strap, "I don't know who you are, boy, but I suggest you leave my home immediately." He gave me one of 'those' looks, while turning towards me.

"Actually, I came to see Ben, and I'm glad I am, as you seem to enjoy abusing him."

"He enjoys it," he retorted, offhandedly.

I raised an eyebrow at that. It wouldn't surprise me, but this did seem a bit extreme for Ben. Ben began panicking when Julia lowered her leg and he saw me. She undid the belt so he could be free.

"Master, please," he cried, "don't let him near me."

"Relax, Ben," I said, holding up my hands. "I'm not here for that."

Ben calmed down a little, but was still a little on edge. Charles looked at me, wondering. Julia was the one that said something that surprised me.

"You must be Seth," she said, moving back and away from Ben's head.

Scowling, I looked at her and then to Ben.

"Oh, well done, Ben," I scathingly chided him.

"Don't be so quick to judge, Seth," she said, getting up to put on a robe. Charles had lowered the strap, but continued to stand there looking like he'd eaten a piece of raw fish. "He didn't say anything until last week when the building exploded."

"Actually, that's why I'm here," I said, turning back to her. She seemed to be the more 'alpha' of the two of them. "Could you untie him so we could talk? It's kind of difficult to talk to his butt."

Both Lon and Charles chortled a little, but Julia simply nodded. She nodded again, but this time to her husband, and he began untying Ben. Once down, Ben stretched out his lithe frame and then cautiously walked over to us. I turned and led the two of them out the door.

"I need your help, Ben," I said once we were on the stairs, walking downward.

"For what?" he asked, with a bit of a British accent.

"To get the person who did that," Lon cut in.

"Just who are you?" Ben asked, a little perturbed.

"Ben; Lon. Lon; Ben," I said turning back around to them. Neither of them looked like they liked the other, but they shook hands, nonetheless. "Now that we've had Mouseketeer Roll-call, let me get back to the main problem. We know who attacked us, but we need help getting back at them."

"Who?"

I took a deep breath and sighed.

"Simon."

"You're joking," he said back, obviously surprised, but there was something else in his face that made me question a little more.

"What did you know about him? I know you know something."

"When you came back from Afghanistan," he said, nodding, "and you won that fight, I overheard him talking to Mike."

"And…?"

"And he said that one day he would get back at you for what you did."

"Just what did you do?" Lon asked me.

"It's a long story, Lon," I answered and then turned back to Ben. "Did you tell anyone what you heard?"

"I just thought it was him mouthing off, and getting it out of his system," he said, shrugging. "I mean we all say things like that when we're angry, it doesn't mean that anything comes of it."

He seemed to apologizing for it, but I told him that it wasn't his fault. He was right; we all say things we don't mean sometimes. But, now, in retrospect, I wished he had said something to someone.

"Can you help us with this?" I asked him finally.

"Let me tell the Weatherbys I'll be leaving," he said with a nod. "Life is always a lot more interesting around you, Seth."

"Not from what we saw," I retorted with a smirk.

He disappeared upstairs. A few minutes later, the three of them walked out of the room. Julia said that not only would she let Ben go, but also help us in what we were doing.

"Help us?" I asked, and got a nod in response. "How?"

"My jet will fly the three of you to New York," she said warmly.

I looked to Ben, to try and get a read on her personality from him. He nodded back with confidence, so I in-turn nodded an acceptance from her. We made the plans to leave for America the next day, and then we were shown to our rooms for the night.

I couldn't sleep, to be honest. It was the first real chance I'd had any time to stop and think. I couldn't help but think of Tom, Parker, Jones, and all the others that had lost their lives because of Simon.

Simon.

An intense growl rumbled in my chest at the name. He would get his for all this calamity. If there was any time that I ever truly hated anyone, it was now more than any other. I doubted if there were any words strong enough to convey my extreme hatred for him over what he'd done.

I woke up the next morning, feeling less than restful. The Weatherbys gave us some breakfast and then led us to the car in the drive. We were driven into London, Heathrow airport, and then to a hangar off to the side. The jet was fully fueled and ready for takeoff.

"Good luck," Julia said to Ben as he was about climb the stairs.

"Thank you, Miss," Ben answered back and then gave her a hug.

He turned and began climbing the stairs.

"What?" he asked when he saw the smirk on my face.

"Nothing."

"Oh, shut up."

We shared a short chuckle and then the plane took off westward. The three of us settled into the seats. When the attendant gave us our sodas and left, Ben turned to me.

"Got a plan?"

"Kill Simon."

"Yeah," he said with a shared snort with Lon, "I got that much. I was thinking about anything specific."

"Until we get there and find out what the situation really is, I won't know how to handle it. Plus, we need one more person to make this work."

"Who?"

"Remmie; he's in New York."

I told him about what happened in Russia and how we got him out of there. Both of them listened intently to the story. When I was done, we sat back and just enjoyed the peace and quiet of the journey. To me, it felt like the calm before the storm.

What happens when the storm is over, though?

Valid question, but I didn't have an answer.

It was dark when we landed in New York. I was grateful for that, as it helped hide us from prying eyes. I also saw that it was now the end of May; we'd spent an entire month in Europe and I didn't even notice it.

The three of us made our way through the streets of the city. More than once we were propositioned by men passing by. Ben got noticed more than Lon or myself, but we declined their most gracious invitations. Three hours later, we'd made it to where I knew Remmie was staying; a simple small house in a calm neighborhood. I knew that a nice family had taken him in when he'd left the facility.

I picked the lock on the back door and then the three of us slipped inside. We found Remmie at a computer in the back room.

"Hello, Seth," he said calmly, and turning around.

"I shouldn't be surprised," I said with a smile and small laugh.

He stood and we shook hands with a half-hug. He did the same with Ben and I introduced him to Lon. Then he turned back to me.

"Do you know what happened?" I asked and he nodded.

"And I know who did it," he added. "Simon."

"Yeah, I know," I told him, getting another patented scowl. "How do you know, though?"

"He survived the blast," he said with a shrug and then turned back to the computer.

Pulling up a news page, he showed where he and the other trainees had "escaped the blast by being in the field at the time."

"They were on the obstacle course at the time," Remmie explained. "Which wasn't his job. I find it extremely convenient that he just happened to take that particular job at that particular time."

"At least the others got out, too," Lon commented.

"Anyone else survive?"

"No."

I took a deep breath, recovering my senses to go on.

"Where are the trainees now?" I asked Remmie.

"It took some time to find out, as the project's been shut down," he said, looking at me, wondering what I would do. I sighed and told him to continue. "The trainees were sent to different places around the country, but not back to their original cities. They were given explicit orders not to say anything to anyone or there would be severe consequences."

"And Simon?"

"He's at a safehouse here in New York; Manhattan, actually."

"You know the address?" I asked and got an emphatic nod in response. "Thanks. We'll take it from here."

"Whoa," he said, getting a cross look on his face, " you think you're just going to leave me here? After all we've been through, Seth?"

"You have a good life, here, Remmie," I told him simply, "and I don't want to do anything to fuck that up for you."

"Are you kidding? I've been bored out of my fucking mind for the past year. No way you're leaving me behind."

"You're sure?"

"Definitely."

"Then let's get to work," I said with a smile.

I had him pull up the map of the place Simon was staying at. From there, I outlined a plan of attack on the building. It was a six story structure, double-story townhome set-up in the heart of Manhattan. Simon's residence was on the second floor, and the last one at the back. Through the blueprints, we also saw that it had an escape route.

"Just the thing every hideout needs," Ben commented sarcastically.

"We're going to need equipment," I told Remmie as we finished laughing.

"I thought you might say that," he said with a certain amount of smugness. "There's a place a few blocks from here that we can stock up on everything we need."

"What about your 'parents' here?"

"They'll be gone for another two hours or so tonight; they work late," he said offhandedly.

We set up the plan and then left the house. Remmie left the adults a note, telling them that he was going out with some friends.

"Well, it's not a lie," he said, shrugging.

I rolled my eyes and we got going.

The place Remmie mentioned was easily broken into; he'd already disabled the alarm system a few days prior without their knowledge. I told them what we would need and so we were in and out inside of ten minutes.

From there, we headed to Manhattan. And Simon. My blood boiled at the very thought of his name, but I kept it in check. It was a twenty minute train ride into the upper side of New York. Damn, it was nice. But, I couldn't waste my attentions on the niceties of the surroundings. I was there for one thing; vengeance.

We got to the designated building following an hour's walk. We slipped into the alleyway across the street from the townhouses. Lon, Remmie, and Ben got into their black fatigues. From there, they slipped the packs back onto their backs and began climbing the two buildings.

After watching them for a moment, I grabbed the two devices I would need and then walked away from my target. I circled around the blocks to come up behind the building Simon was residing in. I looked up to see the others completing their particular parts of this mission. Two lines were strung over the edifice. One line had two of them on it, with the second carrying just Remmie. Lon was to place explosives on the roof, while the other two were to place them on the sides.

When I saw Remmie pulling himself back up, I radioed in to each of them.

"All set," Remmie answered.

"Good here, too," Ben responded.

"Go for it," Lon said.

I waited for them to get clear, and then I pressed the button. Six explosives blew out the sides and top of the structure. Shouts were coming from every direction. As I walked up to the building, I pulled my gun out and got ready. Seconds later, Simon tumbled out of his escape chute. He landed awkwardly, but I waited for him to recover his senses.

"Good morning, Simon," I said, pointing the pistol at him.

"SETH!" he cried. "I-"

"-don't bother," I said, dismissively. "I already know."

His demeanor changed immediately.

"No, you DON'T!" he exclaimed. "You don't know what they did to me, or anything."

"Does that really matter?" I said, looking hard at him. "You were an operative, trained to deal with that type of torture. They should have never been able to get to you."

"Not everyone can be like you, Seth."

"No one ever asked you to be," I told him, planning on continuing, but he stopped me.

"Yes, they did," he snarled at me. "When you disappeared to Afghanistan, and I began taking over, they all wanted me to do what you did. They all wanted me to be you. Well, I'm not."

"That much is obvious," I retorted with a smirk. "I wouldn't have fallen for such a blatant scheme as the one tonight."

He reached behind him, but I shot on the ground in front of him to make him stop.

"The next one won't be a miss," I warned him.

He didn't listen, and drew his gun. As it was coming around his body, I shot, sending the gun backwards. He grabbed his hand in shock.

"Just kill me!" he cried.

"No, but you will wish I had."

"What the fuck is this?" Remmie cried into my ear.

"I've got something better in mind, Rem," I told him.

If there was one thing I'd learned through everything it was this; men love boys. And where I was going to be taking Simon, they were going to love him.

I trussed him up, and gagged him tightly. The others approached as I was finishing up. Lon was looking at me in a quizzical manner, Ben was neutral, but Remington was fuming.

"Will you just trust me?" I asked, looking Remmie's direction. Not waiting for a response from him, I turned to Ben next. "Hail a taxi."

"Seriously?"

I nodded. He looked at me, still not believing what he'd just heard, but shrugged and walked away. I had Lon and Remmie help me with a struggling and squirming Simon. When the taxi stopped for Ben, I had them get into the back with Simon while I slipped into the front seat.

"What's going on, here?" the driver asked, as I began hearing sirens approaching.

We didn't have time for 'twenty questions', so I pulled out my gun and pointed it at him.

"Just drive the fucking car," I told him. He began driving the fucking car.

We got away as the police and rescue people arrived. Simon kept trying to get out of his bindings, but I wasn't worried that he would escape. I told the driver where to go and he looked at me with a shocked look on his face. I heard some chuckling from the back seat to see Remmie trying to hold in his giggles.

"You're evil," he said, still smiling, " you know that?"

"Glad to see you finally agree with me."

"Why there?" Lon asked.

"You'll see," Remmie answered.

The drive lasted another hour. When we arrived, I paid the driver while the others dragged Simon and our gear from the back seat. He sped off, leaving us a block from a state penitentiary. But, this one was not your ordinary state pen; it housed every single pedophile the region had ever captured. Several years prior, through many attempts at keeping them safe behind bars, they decided to take them out and transplant them all here; Livingston State Pen.

"What's so special about this place?" Lon asked while we picked up the gear.

I explained it to him as I hauled Simon over my shoulder. He struggled against me, so I slammed him down hard on the pavement. He stopped. When we got to the side of the institution, I turned towards Remmie and Ben.

"I assume you know what to do?" They nodded and then set off. As they left, I turned to Lon. "I need you to help me with asshole, here."

"No problem," he said, nodding.

We watched my two comrades make it to one of the four towers and shoot the grappling hooks upward. They climbed up, made it inside and then let us know it was all clear.

"That was easy," Lon commented.

"Getting into a prison is easy," I said as we grabbed Simon between us. "It's when you want to leave that they have problems with."

I linked Simon's ankles to one of the ropes while Lon scaled the wall with the other one. I took off after him. Once all four of us were up, we hauled our catch up as well. I saw the two guards down and I was a little concerned, but Remmie signed that they were only unconscious.

We quietly descended the stairs and then just as quietly crossed the compound. The searchlights weren't too difficult to evade, so we got to the other side unnoticed. Ben picked the lock to the door and then we entered right after him.

Through signs and signals, I told Ben and Remmie to get the biggest, ugliest pedophile that was in the place and meet us in the back room where the laundry is done. They nodded and left. Lon and I headed downstairs to the laundry room.

While we waited for them, I cut Simon's clothes from him, leaving him still tightly bound, but as naked as the day he was born. After that, all we could do was sit and wait. But, it was only a few minutes of anxious silence before they got there.

The two of them showed up with a black man that was about six and a half feet [2 m] tall, probably weight about two-fifty [115 kg], all of it solid muscle, and a look about him that I just loved. Remmie had led the way, with Ben holding the gun on him. When he arrived, I smiled, but then, so did he.

"What's your name?" I asked quietly. "And keep your voice down."

"Andrews; Silas Andrews," he answered back just as silently.

"Well, Silas Andrews, I have a gift for you," I said, stepping aside. The gleam in his eye told me we had our man. "Only one thing I'm going to ask; don't kill him right off. I would like him to suffer for a while."

"Kill him?" he asked, stupefied. "No way we would let this piece of pussy go to waste."

"Enjoy yourselves, then."

I chuckled at the last memory. When I looked up, I saw Mike and Sara looking at me. It was that strange mixture of shock, pity, and revulsion that was on their faces. I cleared my throat, and reset myself.

"Sorry," I said, "but, every time I think of Simon now, I have to laugh."

"Do you know what happened to him?" Mike asked.

"According to the news papers," I said, nodding, "the guards found him about a month later. They said that the boy had gotten in there, but they didn't know how. He was taken to the local hospital for 'multiple injuries, including a number of brands, a torn ear, several broken bones that were never set properly, and a severely abused anal muscle'; their words exactly.

"After the regular hospital, he was taken to a psychiatric one for extended observation," I concluded.

They continued looking at me, expecting something else.

"When the four of us left, we made our way down to Washington D.C." I misted up a little as I continued, remembering Tom Gower. "They were right; no one had made it out of the explosion alive. Tom, Parker, Jones, Dr. Wells, Lucius, all of them died. Their names are even on the wall at Langley.

"The president gave all four of us citations, commending us on a well-done job. Ben went back to England and still lives with the Weatherbys. Remmie returned to New York and his acquired family. Lon still works for the CIA, doing everything he can for them. As he puts it, 'where else can I legally kill someone, get fucked, and torture someone, while getting paid for it?'"

I was a little surprised when I heard them chuckle along with me.

"Me," I said, gathering myself together, "well, I sort of drifted. The CIA thought I'd done more than my share of the work and released me with double what they'd promised me originally. I put the money into an account to draw interest until I'm sure I know what I want to do with it.

"But from the time that I left the company till I showed up here, I just sort of toured the country. I was in no real hurry to do anything or go anywhere. I felt like I needed some real time alone; not being fucked or having to kill anyone.

"So," I said, standing and grabbing my pack, "that's it. My story; warts and all."

"You can still stay here, Seth," Mike offered.

I turned to him with a seriously sad look in my eyes.

"You people are too good to know someone like me," I replied. "My being here has already put you guys in danger. Sara almost died because of it.

"No, it's better this way," I told him, stepping out towards the door.

The two of them came to the door with me. I got hugs from both of them and then turned towards the road leading to the street.

"Tell Lora that I'll miss her," I asked and they nodded.

I hated leaving them, but it was better for them. The sun had already set as I stepped out onto the blacktop. I walked along the road, with nothing more than my thoughts, for several miles. I was thankful for that time.

Then, when I'd gone just over ten miles [15 km], a car pulled off the road to stop a few feet in front of me. I walked up to the passenger side and bent down to look inside. A man in his mid-thirties turned to me from the driver's side.

"Need a ride?" he asked.

"Sure," I said with a shrug, pulling my pack off my back. "Why not?"

I slid into the seat and put the pack down on the floorboard in front of me. My thin knife in easy access.

"The name's Tom; Tom Peterson," he said, extending his hand to me.

Of course it is.

"Adam," I answered, shaking his hand.

"Where you headed, Adam?"

"East."

"What's east?"

"A friend of mine's in the hospital," I said with a smirk. "Thought I'd go cheer him up."

"Well, that's nice of you."

Yeah, ain't it…

The End