Save Me

Save Me

How long had he been here? There was no way of knowing. Days did not exist for him anymore. Now, his world was all darkness and concrete. His minutes passed like hours. The soft thumping of his heart his only companion in the cold stillness. Uneven stone pressed at his bones, only a soft layer of skin to separate the two, and he seemed to be in a constant state of discomfort. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and tried once again to sleep.

Overhead, the sound of thudding footsteps approached and descended a flight of uncarpeted stairs. Three bolts were unlatched and the basement door was pushed open and a light clicked on. The boy attempted to shield his eyes from the bare bulb, moaning softly as it seemed to send shots of pain straight to his temples. The boots clomped over and a hand tangled in the dirty black hair, pulling up roughly. "On your knees, Cuntface."

"My name is Corey," he repeated for the umpteenth time, although this repetition lacked the force and conviction of his earlier attempts to get rid of the horrid nickname.

The comment earned him a small rumble of laughter and a vicious yank to his hair as the booted monster leaned down to look Corey in the eyes. "Still got some fight left in ya, huh? I knew I'd picked me a good one this time."

Corey held the gaze, pursing his lips together tightly. He thought about spitting but remembered the reaction it had brought on last time and decided self preservation was more important than a symbolic act of defiance. Instead he just stared intently, trying not to waver, letting it be known he hadn't been beaten yet. Boots laughed again and threw Corey forcefully to the floor, the concrete smashing his lips into his teeth and drawing a trickle of blood. He licked at it gingerly as he watched the man, Perry, head into the other room. A slow groan escaped Corey's lips as he once again thought of the events that had led him here, replaying them in his mind as if he could turn time around and find a way to prevent it.

Perry had become a regular at the Belladonna two months ago. He came in twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, always alone and always sitting in the back booth in Corey's section. He wasn't bad looking, no hunk and far from a pretty boy, but he had nicely shaped shoulders and a graceful curve to his neck. Still, Corey had decided almost instantly upon seeing him that he would never go home with this man. It was sort of a sixth sense he had, knowing which strangers were safe to take candy from and which weren't. He always paid close attention to this instinct and so far it had never led him wrong.

He performed his waiterly duties like any seasoned professional, always making sure Perry's cup was full and obliging him in an occasional chat when business was slow and he couldn't think up a proper excuse to get away. On several occasions he was invited back to his place for a drink and on each Corey declined and silently preyed the creep would take the hint and stop coming in.

It was a slow Monday night, slower than usual, and Corey just didn't feel like putting up with the club any longer. When he saw Perry come in and take up his usual seat, Corey decided it'd be a good time to take a night off. He pulled on his coat and headed out the back, shoving his hands in the pockets to try and escape the cold. He'd only made it a few feet when a voice called out behind him. "Need a lift?"

He stifled a groan, recognizing that throaty sound, and called over his shoulder, "No thanks Perry, I like to walk." He quickened his pace slightly, his head bowed against the deadly Chicago wind. The hand on his shoulder made him spin around, fully prepared to rip Perry a new one and be done with the man for good. That's when the damp cloth covered his face. Each breath brought with it the strong sent of chloroform and his eyes grew heavy against the dim light of dusk.

When he'd awoke, he'd been much like he his now: naked on the stone floor, his hands cuffed tightly behind him and his ankles in iron shackles. That was about a week ago, but Corey couldn't be sure.

Although the position he was in was the same as when he'd first awoken, there were other things about him that were different. The skin under his left eye was a deep shade of purple, droplets of dried blood adorned each nipple where the tension rings had been twisted until they were nearly pulled out, rope burns covered most of his body and there was a lattice of swollen welts on the bottoms of his feet making it impossible for him to stand.

Perry came back, naked now and carrying a small bag. He lifted Corey by the hair again and started shoving his prick between those sweet lips. Corey never thought he'd see the day when a cock in his mouth could feel so utterly revolting and for the first time in years he had to concisely try and settle his gag reflex. The face fuck didn't last too long, Perry had yet to break Corey's will enough that'd he'd actually perform felattio and a slack, unresponding jaw can only provide so much pleasure. He was thrown back on his stomach and mounted from behind. He'd lost count of the times Perry had dry fucked him, each one being more violent and painful than the last, his small ass never seeming to have enough time to heal. "Got some friends coming over later," the beast grunted through clenched teeth. "They all want to see the pretty little prize I caught for myself. Your cock hungry, whore ass is gonna get a real good workout tonight."

There was a sharp pain in Corey's neck and then a cold rush under his skin. Perry had injected him with something again. He liked to have Corey fully conscious when he was using him but kept him drugged most other times to 'keep him quiet.' Corey whimpered softly as the injection started to take effect and as Perry shot his load straight up his ass. How many more would be doing that tonight? Corey'd always prided himself on how careful he was. He'd had too many sex partners to count but condoms were always a must, now matter what, and now he had some strang creep's spunk infesting him with God knows what. A few tears slipped through his lashes, the drugs seemed to pull some of the fight from him. "How long..." he whispered, trying hard to hold back his sobs, "how long until I can go home?"

"You mean that one room hole in the wall you call an apartment?" Perry sneered at him. "That was cleaned out yesterday, Cuntface. Told the landlord you'd gone back home to mommy. Threw most of your junk in the trash. Kept out a few choice pieces though." He emptied the bag by Corey's head. He focused his eyes on a pile of women's undergarments, a pleather mini skirt and a velvet top. "We want you to look pretty for my guests, don't we Cuntface?"

There was a hard smack to Corey's ass and the sounds of retreating footsteps. The room went dark and the door was bolted shut again as Corey was left staring at his pile of cloths, the only possessions he had left in the world, that would aid in his ultimate degradation tonight. He cried softly in the dark and as the drugs flowed through his veins and weakened his system, he dreamed less for a chance to escape. He dreamed instead of a savior. Some God among men bursting through the door and whisking him away in his arms, taking him to a place that was a warm and safe. "Save me," he whispered, sobbing softly, before falling into an uneasy sleep.