The lights glared down, the faint buzz of fluorescents the only sound in the basement aside from the harsh hiss of Lex’s breath. Fire licked at his shoulders. Insistent, ever increasing, like acid eating away at his joints. It spread up his arms, and into his pecs, seeping into his musculature. His legs were trembling, muscles straining to keep him that fraction of an inch high enough to keep the pressure off his shoulders. Failing when exhaustion overcame him, and the increased strain stained his vision red with agony.
And it didn’t end. Constant, keening pain. Time passed like nails down a chalkboard. Slow and excruciating. If he hadn’t emptied his stomach off the side of the porch at the Maplethorpe house when Clark had first gone after the fucking psychopath, he might have ended his misery the most undignified way possible, choked on his own vomit.
As it was, when the pain got so bad it induced nausea, the only thing he was able to cough up was bile. It ate at his throat, acid and vile, but he was able to swallow it back down and breathe.
They had to know he was missing by now. The Kent’s had to have let someone know – – please God. They had to be looking for him. His father would have brought in the authorities. Would have his own people searching. This wasn’t one of those life lesson sort of situations that he might sit back and let Lex work out on his own.
There was a point when exhaustion and pain began to erode thought. When his brain began to conserve, shutting out all the extraneous things, all focus narrowed down to red tinged suffering and the effort to keep from just sagging forward and dragging his arms out of their sockets.
He didn’t hear the steps when Decker came back down. Didn’t notice the man’s presence at all until he unhooked the chain holding his wrists. And the sudden release of tension as his arms dropped down out of their locked position brought on a whole new world of agony. He fell onto his side, shrieking into the gag, shoulders, back, legs all one cohesive whole of spasming muscle. When it eased enough that he could see and think beyond the hurt, and pant into the gag instead of scream, Decker unclasped his ankle cuffs from the thigh bands. Pulled him up and off the bed with an arm under his elbow and God, it hurt, shoulders still burning.
His legs splayed out from under him, cramping from holding the same position for however many hours he’d been there. Decker just hauled him back up and dragged him to a corner where there was a tattered armchair next to an end table. There was a small, threadbare area rug under it, and it was the only thing that saved Lex’s knees when Decker threw him down. Decker shoved him forward, against the seat of the chair and Lex leaned there, concentrating on breathing, head spinning with exhaustion. When his hands were uncuffed, he didn’t have the strength to fight it. His wrists were recuffed to the outside rings on the straps around his thighs.
Decker pulled him back off the chair, moved around and sat down in it, legs spread, boots on either side of Lex’s knees. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was coming. He swayed, odd little blank spots in his thinking, brain misfiring from the burning pain of cramped muscles and chronic lack of sleep.
“You look good on your knees, Lex,” Decker laid a hand on his skull, and Lex summoned energy he hadn’t thought he had and jerked way, glaring. Decker just grinned at him and gripped the back of his head. “Look good naked.”
The man looped a finger through the ring on the back of the gag strap and pulled Lex back until he was leaning awkwardly, supported by Decker’s hand, because God knew he hadn’t the strength in his back at the moment to support himself at this angle. Decker’s other hand slid down his stomach, rubbed his hairless pubic mound. “Always ashamed of this, weren’t you? Bald all over. That why you never fucked most people more than once? ‘Cause once they saw how naked you were under all your pretty clothes, you were ashamed to go back for a second round?”
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Lex thought at him, hating the bastard even more because there might actually have been a grain of truth in there. That this man, hidden in the shadows all those years, watching him, had picked up on.
“Nothing to be ashamed about,” Decker told him, still petting him, big fingers grazing his penis, slipping down to knead his aching balls still trapped in the spreader. “I never seen skin so pretty as yours.”
He drew Lex back towards, him, reaching up with the other hand to unfasten the buckle at the back of Lex’s neck. Then he eased the leather ball gag out from behind Lex’s teeth. His jaw was so stiff he could barely close it. He dropped his head, panting and drooling a little. Decker wiped it off with a thumb, tilted his chin up and looked him dead in the eye.
“You’re gonna use that pretty mouth and you’re going to suck me.
Lex managed the barest curve of a smile. “Sure.”
He’d bite the fucker’s cock off.
Decker’s fingers tightened on his jaw. “I will knock your ass out the moment I feel teeth, and when you wake up, you’ll have your balls stuffed in your mouth. You don’t need balls to fill my needs, boy. Might make you more manageable without. Do you doubt me?”
Lex tried to jerk his chin away. Failed. Glared back at Decker until the man asked again, slow and serious, the look in his eyes that of a man that never bluffed. “Do you doubt me?”
He remembered the things in the report his father had shown him and didn’t doubt at all.
He swallowed, shook his head minutely. “No.”
Decker held his gaze a moment more, then nodded, released his jaw and unfastened his pants. Lex hadn’t gotten a particularly good look at his cock before, but it bobbed in excruciating detail before his face now. Maybe 7 and a half inches long with a flared mushroom head that was already tight and shiny and purple. The veins were big and dark under ruddy skin. Lots of dark pubic hair that disappeared in a thick trail under his shirt.
“Open up,” Decker suggested, fist around the base of his cock, aiming it towards Lex’s mouth.
“You know they’re out in force looking for me right now, don’t you?”
Decker narrowed his eyes, moved his free hand to the back of Lex’s neck. The cock head nudged his lips. “If I want you to use your mouth to talk, I’ll tell you.”
Charming. “They know it’s you. My father probably has all those army shrinks who know you inside and out profiling you as we speak.”
His reflexes were slow enough he didn’t see the blow coming. Not a hard hit, just a solid, openhanded slap across the side of his face. “I told you, the right to talk is earned.”
“Fuck y – -” Was as far as he got before he got slapped again. Harder this time, almost enough to knock him over. The sting in his cheek was starting to numb. There were lights dancing at the edges of his vision.
Decker grabbed his jaw, fingers biting into the hinge, forcing his mouth open, jerked him forward with the other hand on the back of his head. The big head of his cock slipped past his lips and his teeth probably did scrape, but he had no control over it, as Decker rammed it down his throat. No complimentary moment to get used to the intrusion, just his nose pressed against Decker’s thick pubic hair, his throat chafing as the cock head opened it, shoved halfway down his throat, him gagging and choking, gag reflex going into overdrive.
“That’s your problem, Lex,” Decker said holding him there, while he suffocated, no air able to pass the obstruction in his esophagus. “You think you’re entitled. Think you can do what you want and ignore simple rules.”
He pulled out, let Lex draw half a strangled breath, and shoved back in. “You ignore my rules, you suffer for it. You keep suffering until you learn how to obey.”
Out again, and Lex gasped, feeling light headed from near asphyxiation. Lecture apparently over, Decker grasped the sides of his face, thumbs still pinching into the hinge of his jaw and proceeded with a thorough skull fuck.
It didn’t take him long to come. A dozen thrusts or more and his semen was filling Lex’s throat, burning as it went down from the abrasion of an unexpected and particularly rough deep throating.
Decker pulled out, and Lex doubled, stomach heaving, bile and come trying to surge back up his throat. He clenched his teeth, biting back a sob of purest frustration and disgust.
“What the fuck do you expect to gain from this?” he cried, voice as raw as his throat felt. “If you worked for my father, you know he won’t give you a dime.” Which was as true and lamentable a statement as Lex had ever uttered, because Lionel Luthor didn’t deal with extortionists. He might spend a fortune hunting them down, but he wouldn’t bend to their demands.
Another slap, and this one did knock him over, and he lay there, cheek pressed to the rug, head spinning until Decker pulled him back up again. “I gave you fair warning, Lex. Told you to keep your damned mouth shut. Now you learn the price of disobedience.”
He reached for the gag, and Lex hissed through his teeth, pulling away, trying to deny it.
“No – -no –” Useless protest. Decker forced it back into his mouth, cinched it tight, then hauled him to his feet. He had marginally more strength in his legs, but he still swayed. He wasn’t able to quite straighten up, wrists locked around the area of mid-thigh. Decker dragged him along anyway, pushed him face first against a roughly made version of a Saint Andrew’s Cross, constructed of 2 x 6’s bolted to the cement wall. A homemade bondage scaffold complete with eye rings for securing arms and legs. Fuck. Just fuck.
Decker kicked his ankles apart, secured one, then the other, assuring limited ability to fight it when he loosed Lex’s arm and forced it to the apex of the right beam. Lex fought him anyway, mindless panic that got him nothing but a fist in the kidney, driving the air out of him, letting Decker drag his arm up and lock it in place. He followed suit with the other. Which left Lex spread eagle and yanking ineffectually at the cuffs, belly pressed into the intersection of wood, everything else dangling.
How was he supposed to deal with the bastard when he wouldn’t let him talk long enough to reason? And he could reason, he could reason very prettily, if he could just get his equilibrium long enough to choke back the rage and the frustration and the burning need to see this man dead. And the fear. The fear wasn’t making it any easier to come up with calm rationalizations, even inside his own head.
He heard the slither of leather, like the sound of a belt sliding out of the loops of a pair of pants. Vaguely familiar. Lionel had on occasion, when he’d been deep in his cups and mourning the loss of a wife and the burden of a disappointing heir, had a penchant for employing a similar method of discipline. Never on bare skin though. Never more than a strike or two before he realized what he was about and shut himself down.
Lex shut his eyes and tried to relax his jaw. Tried to find a calm place. A place where he could take this and not disgrace himself. Jerked when he felt Decker’s hand between his legs, cupping his genitals, fondling overly sensitized, trapped balls. The smooth, hard feel of leather touched them, Decker stroking him with the looped belt.
God. Oh, God. He began to loose the rhythm of his breath and he hadn’t been hit once yet.
“Five lashes for every time you’ve spoken out of turn.” Decker said, moving the edge of the belt up between the crack of his ass, over the flat butt of the plug stretching his insides, trailing it up his back. “One between the legs for each time you’ve been disrespectful. I won’t hear foul language from you.”
Oh Fuck. Oh Fuck. Oh – –
He gasped into the gag at the sound of the first strike. It hit him across the swell of his ass. It took a second for the sting to register, and then it hit hot and sharp. The pain from the second one came faster, and he bit into the gag, choking back the scream.
The crack of the leather echoed in his head, always preceding the burn of pain. He tried to calculate how many times he’d spoken, how many tonight that Decker could call him on – -three ?- – and the one aborted ‘fuck you’. Fifteen lashes? He tried to count, so he could keep track – – but the shock of each impact shredded his concentration. He thought it had far gone beyond fifteen, so there might be discrepancies between his count and Decker’s. He couldn’t keep the scream from battering against the gag when the belt caught him across the small of the back and felt like it had torn right through his skin into flesh and bone beneath.
That was nothing compared to the pain that shot through him when the belt lashed up between his legs, snapping against exposed genitals. That pain rushed up, like a fist slamming him in the gut from the inside. Huge and swelling and dulling out the fire in his back.
Again, and he was suffocating from it, not able to get enough air through the gag, heaving and choking and trying to press his body through the wall to get away. A third time – – a fucking third time and he didn’t remember saying the words that earned that one – – and it was too much, and everything tilted, a black wall of agony, bile in his mouth, coiling in his throat.
He must have passed out. He was sagging against the cross, when he came to, back on fire. Balls throbbing. Throat burning and raw. His vision was blurry. His face was wet. So much for not disgracing himself. Brilliant plan.
The pressure on his wrists was making his hands numb. He didn’t think he could get his legs under him if he tried. Pain and exhaustion were at bitter odds.
Decker moved behind him and he flinched. The man didn’t even touch him and he jerked, heart thudding in his throat.
“When I hurt you, it’s for your own good.” A finger lightly trailed a welt on his back and he sucked in air, recoiling mentally. There was no place physically to escape.
A thick, folded cloth pressed across his nose. One inhalation told him it was more of the chloroform. A second and his head was spinning and the fumes were sucking him down. The last thing he heard was Decker whispering.
“Now you can sleep.”
And he did.
Lex was soft. His pain thresholds easy to break. But then, he wasn’t a solider. He hadn’t been trained to endure torture and deprivation. Physically, he could be broken. Mentally he would be more of a challenge. There were different levels that a man retreated to, when he was trying to escape pain. A smart man would swallow his pride and play at obedience to avoid punishment. But it would be an act and inside his head, he’d be rebelling. Holding onto hope and resentment, plotting retaliation. And though Lex was young and hot headed, he was clever. He’d do what needed doing eventually, to avoid the pain.
Grudging obedience wasn’t what Decker wanted from him. Oh, it would do for a start, but what Decker needed, what Lex needed to adapt to this new life Decker was gifting him with, was acceptance of it. Absolute submission. Unblinking welcome of whatever use Decker chose to put him. He’d welcome the pain eventually. Beg for things he couldn’t conceive of now, once Decker had utterly destroyed the man he was now.
It would take more than breaking his body for that. There were men he’d worked with during his time in the service that could fuck with a hostile’s head without ever touching him. Without ever making him scream. It was effective, but it took time and there were other techniques that let a man get his hands dirty. Head games had never been Decker’s preferred method for breaking a man. Getting to the mind through the body was a more satisfying sport. The body and the mind were symbiotic in that the one would eventually shatter if you put enough pressure on the other.
He spread ointment on the worst of the welts once he had Lex down from the cross and back onto the bed. He hadn’t been gentle with his use of the belt and there was blood where it had struck the same spot repeatedly. Lex had fine skin. Fragile skin and he marked easily. Decker didn’t want scars. He might mark him later, a brand of some sort to remind him who he belonged to. Decker was meticulous with his things, and though his weapons and his gear were worn from hard usage, they were never anything but oiled and honed and spit shined, in perfect condition to do his bidding.
He removed the gag, pulled out the big plug and felt his stomach flutter in excitement as the flared end of it stretched the swollen lips of Lex’s asshole wide to accommodate its exodus. The leather ball spreader came off more gingerly, the leather biting into the swollen flesh. He shifted them in his hand, gently. Rolling them a little in their bruised sack. Lex didn’t stir through any of it, deep in the grips of the anesthetic.
Decker liked his struggles, loved his body writhing under him, but he liked this too. The sublime feeling of a body limp and lax and completely his to arrange.
He crossed Lex’s wrists, clipped the cuffs together and attached them over his head to one of the vertical headboard supports. Laid a hand on the back of his naked skull. Licked the thin skin and tasted the faint salty flavor of sweat. Licked at the fading marks on the back of his neck where the gag strap and buckle had bit into his flesh.
He’d let him sleep a few hours, before waking him. He’d keep him from a regular sleep cycle, keep him exhausted and keep him disoriented enough not to know when rest would next be allowed. The lights would never go out and he’d lose his sense of time. It wouldn’t take long. Decker had seen men crumble from that subtle pressure alone.
He’d shower him again when he let him wake. Clean him out again on the inside. Give him water, but no food. A few days without and he’d be more malleable, less able to put up a fight if he tried. And he needed to know Decker was stronger than him, more capable. That Decker could take him with or without restraints if he wanted.
The voices in his head were quiet, somewhat mollified by the infliction of pain. By the punishment. It was a relief almost, not to hear them whispering at the edge of his thoughts. He bit at the sharp jut of one shoulder blade. Left an imprint of teeth next to the welt that diagonally intersected it. Beautiful.
He was hard and there was no reason to deny himself anything when it came to Lex. Not anymore. He slapped a little of the ointment on his cock head and sank in. Almost like fucking a corpse, with the utter lack of response. Better, though, when the cavity he was plowing was warm and throbbing in time with a pulse. He shoved in as deep and as hard as he could, the skin of Lex’s ass so hot from the whipping that it likened to burn Decker’s balls and his stomach when he pressed tight. He dug his fingers in, leaving white imprints in reddened flesh. Grunted with the exertion of it, until his balls tightened and he came. Emptied himself deep in Lex’s guts, and sighed in satisfaction. That was four loads of his Lex had inside him. Three up the ass, one down the throat. It made Decker feel warm, satisfied in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. A feeling of accomplishment that he hadn’t truly experienced since he’d been booted out of the military and his missions had become so much less grand in scale.
He spread a little lube on the plug and twisted it back in. He wanted everything trapped inside, wanted it to saturate Lex from the inside and kill everything that freakish boy he’d let fuck him might have stained. And tomorrow after he let the enema stretch Lex’s belly until the skin was thin and taut, and he rinsed it all out, he’d start all over and fill him up again.
He thought it was a ritual he might grow to love.
The police were at the farm again. In the company of the FBI this time, asking more questions and pressuring them about Clark.
Lies came out of their mouths that Jonathan cringed at. They’d never used their religion to cover any of Clark’s secrets, but they used it now, excuse for not allowing them to take him away to the hospital or allow their doctors to come and give him more than a cursory look. Martha had read on the internet about parents able to refuse care on the basis of religious beliefs – – and winning when the authorities tried to force the issue in court.
It made Jonathan sick to his stomach to pretend – – to use his God in that way – – but what choice did they have?
Four days and Clark hadn’t woken. The wounds had finally healed. All the little ones had closed up with in the hour. The entrance wounds on his skull had taken a little longer. The big ones where the bullets had ripped out the other side of his skull, where bone was missing in chunks – – those were slower to mend. But they did. Four days and his body was whole, but he showed no signs of waking.
Four days that they’d been fending off authorities desperate to uncover any clue they could about Lex Luthor’s whereabouts.
Short of telling them the parts about Clark’s powers, they’d told them everything else that had happened. What Lex had told them, what they’d seen on their own. Beyond that, all they could do was sit and watch Clark and hope the damage done inside his skull healed as thoroughly as the rest of his body. Hoped that he was the same boy he’d been before, because growing back brain matter and retaining what had been held within might be two different things.
Four days and he tried to get his work done, drove himself to exhaustion doing things that needed doing and couldn’t half finish in a day what they’d been able to accomplish in a morning with Clark’s abilities to help out. It kept him from thinking though, from letting him fall into a pit of worry over his boy. He’d drag in at night and have an extra beer or two with supper, and try not and talk about what if’s with Martha, who was trying damned hard to hold it together. Martha who’d done her crying and was dry eyed and resolute.
It was Martha that had been on the phone with the school, explaining that Clark was sick and couldn’t come in. Martha who’d turned away Chloe and Lana from coming to see him, promising them with a smile that Jonathan had no idea how she’d managed, that she’d have Clark call them when he was feeling better.
Pete they let come in, because Pete knew and Pete might be able to help with the cover story if this dragged on too long. But the boy looked traumatized after seeing Clark, pale with bandages wrapped around his head to hide the healing wounds, and sat down at the kitchen table after with his hands shaking while they tried to explain what had happened. Tried to explain their hopes that Clark would come out of this.
The boy didn’t understand as much as he pretended. Pete just saw a friend he’d thought pretty much invulnerable lying there paler than Clark had ever been in his life, quieter than he’d ever been, stiller than it was possible for a body to get and not be dead.
Martha might have quit her crying, but sometimes out in the field, Jonathan felt the hot sting of tears when he thought about it.
He worried about Lex to, in that part of his brain not taken up with concern for his own boy. Never would have thought he’d sit up nights with a care for what a Luthor was going through – – but it had been four days and no sign of him. He figured he was probably dead. Probably buried somewhere out in the Kansas back country, if what the bastard that had taken him had done to Clark was any indication. And Jonathan didn’t wish that on him. Despite what he and Clark had been up to – – and he didn’t want to think about that and have angry thoughts about a kid that was either dead or wishing he were – – he didn’t wish it on him.
Not after he’d traded himself for Clark.
The police had found his phone out beyond the picnic shelter. Found his wallet in the trashcan. The rain had washed away any other evidence and thank god for that, because a lot of Clark’s blood had spilled. They didn’t need them testing that and figuring out there was a boy here they needed to take a closer look at regardless of his parent’s wishes.
They’d been shown pictures of the man who’d done it. A man Jonathan’s age for God’s sake, that had served his country. They hadn’t recognized him, but Pete said that Lana had ID’d him as coming into the Talon a lot over the past months. Said she was shaken pretty badly, knowing she’d been waiting the table of psychopathic killer all those weeks. Said he’d mostly come in when Lex had been there, stalking a kid less than half his age.
It made Jonathan’s stomach turn. Made him buy a second shotgun, so he could have one in the truck and one in the house. If word reached this bastard that Clark was still alive, Jonathan didn’t know what he might do. Didn’t know whether he was the sort of man that wouldn’t stand to leave a job unfinished.
One way or another, he’d protect his family best he could.
Clark’s hands were on him. Big and clever, firm around his cock, stroking in time with the unbearable pulse of vibration rocking him from within. He clenched up, thrusting into Clark’s hand, moaning as Clark leaned over him, weight pressing him down in the mattress, tongue sliding into mouth. He tasted of beer. His lips were thick, hard, lacking that sweet softness of Clark’s mouth. There was the burn of springy body hair scraping a nipple that felt raw.
He swam up, out of the murky grey of drug-induced unconsciousness – – panic rushed in to fill the shadows. He jerked his head away, gasping, that knife-edge horror of not knowing what the bastard had been doing to him while he was out crowding in and making him jerk helplessly against the cuffs holding his hands over his head.
The hand on his cock tightened. Decker pushed himself up on an elbow, gave Lex a warning look, then gathered up cock and balls and cinched a leather band around the base of both, then another around the base of Lex’s still erect penis. It bobbed there, angling up towards his belly. Decker slapped it, made it dance, and all the while the unending vibration of whatever he’d stuck up Lex’s ass pressed against his prostate, making the whole of his body clench and shiver. And he hated himself, hated that he was weak enough to shudder when the man touched him, reviled himself for feeling sensation, even if it were overwhelmingly colored by revulsion when the man clenched his fist around his cock and pumped.
He couldn’t think. However long Decker had put him out this time, hadn’t been enough to chase away the exhaustion. It echoed in his skull, made vision blur around the edges. Or maybe he was still groggy from the last vestiges of the drug. Maybe it was all some especially vivid nightmare – – some acid trip from a hit he didn’t remember taking.
Decker dipped down again, trying to force his tongue into his mouth. Lex clenched his teeth, refusing. Short of wedging his jaw open, that was one intimacy the man wouldn’t get out of him. The things he could force, Lex couldn’t stop. The things that needed his cooperation – – well, he’d come to the conclusion some point yesterday – – the day before – – today – – he had no idea exactly when – – that the bastard enjoyed hurting him too much to stop simply because he offered less resistance.
But Decker didn’t seem overly offended at the rebuff, happy perhaps that he’d gotten a hard-on out of him. He moved down to suck on a swollen red nipple. Before he’d slapped the chloroform laced rag over Lex’s face the last time, there’d been a great deal of time spent exploring the realm of nipple torture.
He hissed through his teeth when the man bit down hard enough to draw blood, then sucked like he was trying to find a hidden wellspring of milk.
“Son of a bitch! Stop! Stop!” Almost he missed the gag, when Decker lifted his head, gave him a look that said he’d taken note and there would be reprisal. He had no innate ability it seemed, to keep his fucking mouth shut.
“Oh, God. No – – I didn’t – -” The panic was mortifying. But pride had taken second tier to fear and pain somewhere along the way. Decker placed the tips of his fingers across Lex’s mouth.
“You were good yesterday. Not a word out of you.”
Sure he’d been good. He’d had a gag filling his mouth or Decker’s cock, stifling everything but muffled screams, from the time he’d woken to the time Decker had finished with him and knocked him out. He blinked up, shivering. It was cold down here, too cold for anything but fear sweat. He felt it on his skin now.
Decker unclipped the chain from his cuffs, hauled him up and everything tilted. His knees gave out and Decker pulled him against his side, taking his weight. He’d had water and a bottle of some sort of protein shake since he’d been here. The whole of his body trembled from the lack of anything more solid. The bastard was starving him, and whether it was on purpose or because he was too fucking unhinged to realize food was one of those things essential to continued living, Lex wasn’t sure. He’d bring it up next time he felt the need for a thorough beating.
He sobbed a little at that, couldn’t do anything to stop it but clench his teeth and try and swallow it. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t found him yet. He couldn’t fathom how all of his father’s money hadn’t been able to hire a force to sweep the fucking state and hunt him down. What if they thought he were dead? What if they’d given up? But no, it hadn’t been that long- – it couldn’t have been that long – – and Lionel Luthor had a great deal of influence on the state, if not the federal level. Lionel would want him back. Lionel needed an heir and Lex was all he had.
His knees hit the carpet in front of Decker’s chair. He couldn’t think fast enough to resist, mind still sluggish, when his cuffs were unclipped from each other and reattached to the rings on the ones around his ankles. Decker liked him in this position when he was forcing his cock down his throat. He bit back another desperate choked sound at the fact that he was actually starting to pick out a pattern in the bastard’s preferences.
Decker sat down, naked as Lex was, save for the mat of dark hair on his body. His cock was thick and leaking, veiny and hideous. Lex hated the shape of the flared head. Hated the feel of it in every conceivable way.
Words wanted to bubble out of him. Threats, bitter derision, desperate attempts at rationalization – – he bit them back. Knelt there, the blood trapped behind the cinch of the cock ring keeping him hard enough to hurt, trying not to noticeably shake.
Decker picked up a long rod from the side table. It had a thick black rubber grip at one end, but the majority of it was a long metal shaft with two metal prongs at the far end. A cattle prod. A fucking cattle prod. Lex couldn’t take his eyes off it. Decker ran the length of across his big palm.
“Remember the club in Metropolis?” Decker said and idly rubbed the pronged tips of the rod across Lex’s cheek. “Remember that little fag whore that you went down on your knees and sucked cock for in the men’s urinal?”
Lex shifted his eyes up to Decker, warily. The gritty details of that cocaine and methamphetamine spurred encounter had not been wide spread. Just the cell phone shots of the walk out in handcuffs, and the gossip rag supposition of who had propositioned whom.
“Remember how you worked that little prick? Like you were the pro? Remember that, Lex?”
“Oh – – God,” he whispered it. “You were there?”
Decker grinned down at him. “Had to see you on your knees, boy. Had to see your pretty pink mouth wrapped around somebody’s cock. Paid him pretty good to fuck you up and get you someplace private. Didn’t even see me there, did you?”
God. God. His head was spinning, trying to remember that night. That sordid, fucked up, humiliating night, that he only remembered a fraction of to this day.
“You set me up.”
Decker shrugged, ran the prong down his belly and nudged his cock. “Wasn’t hard. Not like you wouldn’t have found someone to play the slut with. Didn’t call the cops, though. They ruined the show. Made sure the little whore wouldn’t talk afterwards though. Last thing I did before your daddy turned on me.”
Lex swallowed, seeing something come unglued in Decker’s gaze as he thought about that betrayal.
“It wasn’t me,” he said softly, reasonably. “I didn’t know.”
Decker’s mouth tightened. His hand did and a jolt of current shot through Lex’s cock strong enough to knock him backwards. He writhed, back arched, screaming pain radiating outwards from the point of the shock. It churned in his gut with reverberating aftershocks. He lay there, panting, splayed out awkwardly, wrists trapped at his ankles. Even the cock ring hadn’t been able to maintain his erection. It felt like he’d peed himself a little.
Decker grinned down, eyes gleaming with a sort of anticipatory madness. Touched the prongs to one of his nipples and hit him again. He shrieked, writhing, heart feeling like it had been shocked out of rhythm. He couldn’t catch his breath. His chest burned over the shocked nipple, all the muscles contracting. He shuddered on the rug at Decker’s feet, until the man hauled him upright.
There was blood in his mouth this time. Salty and thick from where he’d bitten through his cheek.
“Open your mouth,” Decker directed, the prongs of the rod gently nudging his lips.
He sobbed. It broke free, and he couldn’t stop it. Shook his head, refusing. Decker nodded touched the prod to his belly and hit him again.
He blacked out that time, came back with everything spasming, everything clenched in agony. Decker stood over him, bare feet on either side of his shoulders. The prod held loose in his hands.
“Open your mouth,” he asked again and Lex did it, jaw trembling form either aftershock of simple terror.
He felt the hard metal prongs of the cattle prod slide into his mouth, clacking a little on his bottom teeth as Decker slipped it in. He crouched over Lex’s chest, sat his bare ass down on his ribs and stripped the breath out of him.
“Suck it,” he said, finger caressing the trigger. “Suck like it’s the best cock you ever tasted, you fucking slut.”
He shut his eyes and did that too, sucked on the ungainly thing as best he could while Decker slid it back and forth in his mouth. The blood was still trickling down the back of his throat. There was wetness at his temples. Absolute humiliation. He didn’t know how to stop it.
“Open.” Decker finally directed, giving Lex the grace to open his mouth wide and save teeth as Decker pulled the prod out, shiny from Lex’s saliva.
He pulled him up to his knees again, kicked them wide and stepped up close, leaking cock against Lex’s cheek, the tip of the prod idly running a course down his back.
“You need one more lesson?” Decker asked softly.
Lex was shaking. He couldn’t stop shaking. He shook his head. It was just a dick. He could shut his eyes and find someplace dark and safe inside his head and do whatever this man wanted if it saved him debilitating pain. Not to was simply insane.
“No, I think you need one more.” Decker touched the prong to the tip of his cock and the world fragmented into red hot waves of pain.
Electric shock meant for a cow’s tough hide put Lex out for more than few moments the last time Decker put a surge of current through him. He lay there twitching, limbs bizarrely twisted from the way Decker had him bound. Drool and tears making lines down the sides of his face. It was erotic. The twitching and the way the arch of his back made his ribs press up under fine, thin skin; the patter of pulse in the concave of his belly.
The kid didn’t have lot of extra meat on him to begin with, all lean muscle and sleek firm flesh, but another couple of weeks on the diet Decker had him on and he’d be able to count the individual ribs. Be able to run his hands across them and almost feel the bones.
It made him leak a little more thinking about it. The complete control over Lex, inside and out.
He gave him another minute, then bent over and slapped him back into consciousness. Pulled him up onto his knees while he was still reeling, eyes soft and dazed. Pretty.
He sat down, pulled Lex right up close, shoulders tight to the inside of Decker’s thick thighs, then slouched back in the chair, planning on drawing this out a good long time. He lifted Lex’s chin with the prod, gave him a long look. He could feel the tremors still shaking the kid’s body, whether from the last shock or the fear of another one, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. But he liked the feel of them.
The barest moment of hesitation, but not enough to warrant punishment. The mouth opened wide, a big inviting oval.
Decker took a breath, all those clamoring whispers in the back of his head hushed at the sight of him laying the fat head of his cock inside Lex’s sweet mouth. Hushed at the sight of the kid leaning there, neck arched out, eyes shut, jaw trembling a little, waiting on Decker’s command.
Lex did, wrapping his lips tight and enveloping the tip of Decker’s cock in soft, wet warmth. Decker rested the end of the prod on Lex’s shoulder, a constant reminder, and relaxed back into the chair, luxuriating in the feel, giving little commands now and then that Lex followed to a T. He’d always guessed Lex would be good at this. Fantasized about it.
He made him tongue the pee slit, made him suck his balls and lick the loose skin beneath them, made him work his own way down the shaft, until his nose was pressed into Decker’s bristly thatch and his throat bulged with the thickness of Decker’s tool. When Decker balls tightened and he couldn’t take the pleasure anymore, he sat forward, grabbed the kid by the ears and started fucking his face at a harder pace.
The little helpless sounds Lex made pushed him over the edge and he emptied himself down that tight, pulsing throat.
He wiped the tip of his softening cock across Lex’s swollen lips when he pulled out, and the kid just sat there, eyes fixed somewhere around his mid-section, like he was someplace else in his head. It bothered Decker, that escape from his reality. He didn’t want to start a precedent.
He slapped him, twice. Hard enough to snap his eyes back into focus. Then so he’d know he did good, he rubbed the spot.
Something very much like horror seeped into Lex’s blue eyes. Desperate and appalled. Like he’d realized he’d lost some critical conflict during this exercise. And Decker didn’t mind if he knew; if he realized he was breaking piece by piece. Decker had no intention of giving him time to repair the damages.
“You did good. I have a reward for you.”
He reached to the table for the collar. Wide black leather, with a padlock to keep it in place. Stainless steel D-ring in the back by the buckle, a hanging O ring at the front, and the finishing touch that he’d made himself – – Lex’s name etched out on a little stainless plate.
He held it up, so Lex could get a good long look, the last time he’d see it after it was snug around his neck.
Lex stared at it, some of that dull horror edged out by a quizzical sort of narrowing of his eyes. He dropped his head and his shoulders shook. A desperate sound escaped him.
“You sick, sad bastard.” Lex looked back up at him, the faintest trace of wetness in his lashes. It was laughter. Hollow, scornful laughter.
“Is that what you want? A dog? Go the fucking pound.”
Decker drew a breath, hand clenching around the collar, black anger rising. The voices in his head that had been appeased by Lex’s submission rose up in offense, clamoring vitriolicly for immediate retaliation. He jammed the cattle prod against his base of his throat, hitting him with a jolt of electricity. Lex went backwards, choking, body bowing backwards as it dealt with the current. Decker surged up, the rage taking full hold, kicked him barefooted between his vulnerable spread thighs. Hard enough to shove him a foot off the area rug and onto the concrete.
The scream was choked, ragged, as if he couldn’t properly draw the air to fuel it. It wasn’t nearly enough. He stalked to the supply cabinet, found a dildo that very few men could match in size, ten inches, as thick as his wrist, big enough to rip the insolent little prick’s ass open.
He kicked him onto his side, then jerked him onto his belly, pulled him by the short chain that connected one wrist and ankle fully out onto the cement floor, because blood on the carpet would be hard to clean.
The butt plug came out with a slick plop, his come leaking out of Lex’s loosened ass. And the little fuck ought to thank him for filling him up with it, because it was all the lubrication he was going to get. He pressed the huge rubber dickhead against his hole, started to work it in, watched the pink swollen lips stretch thin to take the goddamned big thing.
Lex was fighting it, body clenching, sides heaving with his labored breath. Decker used his own knees to force Lex’s thighs wider and twisted until the big flared rubber head was inside. Lex started screaming. It started out curses and threats, because Lex had a problem with retaining simple rules, turned into gasping pleas and apologies, ended up incoherent garbled wails like the thing had rammed right up his throat by the time he had it shoved in deep.
He started fucking him with it, hard at first to get it far enough out to ram back in, but there was a tear in his asshole that was leaking blood and that and Decker’s own come started easing the way. He battered him with it, pounding his insides, one long brutal assault that had him sweating and Lex shuddering and mostly quiet, half conscious and drooling on the floor by the time his arm got tired enough to make him stop. He jerked it out, got a sharp little whimper of pain from Lex but not much more.
The kid’s hole was puffy and gaping, big as a quarter, the one little split still trickling blood. He considered ramming his fist up there, feeling around Lex’s squishy insides. Figured it wouldn’t take much effort now, stretched as he was.
He leaned over his back, and asked him. “Ever been fisted, Lex?”
Lex shut his eyes not bothering to answer. The quaking of his body was sporadic and harsh. Like he was trembling on the edge of shock. It would be a Goddamned shame if he were bleeding internally. It was the only thing that kept Decker from carrying through with the fisting idea. He sat for a moment, considering options, some of the black rage fading. He’d gotten carried away with that – – could have killed Lex and killing Lex wasn’t his goal. But once the rage was upon him, his control was limited. There were bodies around the world to attest to that. He needed a little away time. He needed to go up stairs and take a break, drink a few beers and jerk off to internet porn. Maybe pick up a few new ideas.
He pushed himself up, got the collar and fastened it around Lex’s neck. Snapped the padlock shut and made it permanent. Lex didn’t open his eyes throughout the process.
“I warned you. Repeatedly.” He snapped a leash onto the ring at the back. Unclipped wrist cuffs from ankles and Lex straightened his legs with a sigh.
Decker stood, wrapped the end of the leash around his fist and pulled. Lex got the idea after a minute, when the collar started choking him, and with a miserable groan pushed himself to his knees, knelt there on all fours, all his limbs shaking like he had palsy, and Decker had a mind to keep him like that, make him crawl like a dog. Later maybe.
He yanked again and with an effort, Lex climbed painfully to his feet, swayed there, gasping, no doubt the pain in his ass eating through him. He looked up, eyes a little hazed with the hurt, met Decker’s gaze.
“I got a dog,” Decker said, no restraints between them now but the leash in his hand. He willed the kid to make a try at him. Willed him to do anything he could construe as a reason to smack him down again.
Lex flinched. Looked like he was fighting some internal battle, then said very softly. Hoarse like he’d screamed his throat bloody. He probably had. “Go ahead, kill me now. It’ll be easier on both of us.”
Decker smiled at him. “When I kill you, it won’t be easy and it won’t be quick and it won’t be because you want it. But I’ll make you beg for it, if you keep pushing me.”
Lex lifted his chin, but kept his hands at his sides. Trying so hard to maintain the shredded remains of his pride, Decker could see it in his eyes. Hurting bad and scared shitless. Decker could see that, too.
He uncoiled the leash from his fist. Let it drop. “Go the shower.”
Lex swallowed, eyes darting just a little, edge of panic creeping in. Thinking maybe of making a run for it. Decker wished he would.
“One.” Decker held up a finger, and Lex drew a frantic breath, all his control shattered, all his options down to two things. Obey or suffer the consequences.
“Two and if I get to three, you won’t like the punishment. That I promise.”
Lex lowered his eyes, hiding the blue of his eyes with auburn tipped lashes, Decker saw the moment he tensed, knew the moment the decision had been made to defy him. The kid had guts, he’d give him that.
He even surprised him the way he went about it. Smart-like. Making that first move towards the shower, like he was capitulating, before spinning, quicker than Decker would have given him credit for, clasping both hands together and swinging around to slam Decker in the side of the face with the heavy cuffs. The padlock and buckles bit into his face, splitting skin, staggering him off his balance, while Lex darted past him, fast as the kid could move after having his ass tore up by that big dildo.
Decker took a moment to touch the blood on the side of his face. There was a split on his cheek. The sting was inconsequential. Nothing. He’d suffered gunshots and breaks and soldiered on in the service. He rubbed the blood between his fingers while Lex hit the steps, licked it off, before striding after him.
He heard the kid jerk at the door, discover the series of deadbolts, and start cursing. He put his back to it when Decker started the climb.
“Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch – – I’ll see you dead. There’s nowhere you can run that I won’t have you found you murdering, sick bastard – -” Lex was close to hyperventilating, asthma attack coming on, maybe. As far as Decker knew, he hadn’t had one since before he’d lost his hair. It’d be a complication if Decker had to deal with that now. He knew how to perform an emergency tracheotomy if he needed.
“You assume you’ll ever be free to give those orders, boy.” He kept up the stairs, waiting for the move. Lex had the high ground, but there was nowhere to go. Decker could go back, get the cattle prod and just take him down, but he preferred the more hands on method of blocking the kick Lex sent for his chest, and lunging forward, grabbing the other ankle and jerking it out from beneath him. Lex went down, feet loosing purchase, ass hitting the stair two steps down from the door, crying out from the pain of that, even as Decker scrambled up and over him, drawing back a fist and driving it into his gut. He’d avoid the face if he could, he didn’t want broken bones marring Lex’s features. He hit him again, then grabbed him by the neck with the other hand, fingers biting into the soft indention that hid the carotid and clamped down.
Lex clawed at his hand, trying to break that grip, but it was too late by then. Less than ten seconds and he was floundering, eyes rolling back, fight going out of him. Decker knelt over him a few moments longer, fingers stroking the fine leather collar, thinking he ought to add a dog tag with a ‘property of D. Decker’ to the back ring. He grinned at the notion, then pulled Lex up over his shoulder and carried him back downstairs.
Tossed him down on the bed and stood there, deciding what to do with him. He’d promised punishment and he wouldn’t start a precedent of not living up to his word. He went to his cabinet and looked at his assortment of ‘tools’. The simple ones were often the best, but sometimes it took creativity to get a point across.
He picked up a hook, gleaming chrome and thick around as his thumb with a lemon sized ball at the short end and an ‘O’ ring at the other. It looked like nothing so much as a Goddamned big fish hook with a blunt knob where the pointy end should be. He picked up a few leather straps and a bit of rope.
He folded Lex’s arms behind him, wrist to elbow, lashed them tight, before slapping him awake. He wanted him to see the hook before he put it inside him. He came awake quick, startled, and ready to put up a fight. Decker put him down with a knee pressed into his gut and there was nothing he could do as Decker leaned over but stare up at him with narrow, furious blue eyes. For a smart kid, he seemed to have more spunk than sense. Decker liked it.
He held up the hook and Lex’s eyes went from him to it, some of the narrowness rounding out as he took it in.
“Ever seen one of these? Know how it works?”
“I’ve got a general idea,” Lex ground out. Not even close to broken, like his attempt at submission earlier had all been an act to soften Decker up and now that he was found out, he didn’t give a shit. He would.
Decker grinned, flipped him back over onto his stomach, his legs half off the bed Decker between his spread thighs. He dug his thumbs into his ass cheeks, pulling firm flesh away from the inflamed hole. Still puffy around the edges, still leaking a little blood, but it was closing up. Lex’s body was amazingly elastic.
Lex’s fists clenched and he made a hissing sound as Decker prodded the sensitive lips of his anus with a big finger. Then he picked up the hook and pressed the shiny chrome ball against the hole, twisted it a little to get it past the loosened muscle, and Lex’s body accepted it with a quiet little suckling sound. He seated it deep, until the curve of the hook was close up against Lex’s ass and the straight portion was snug between his cheeks. Lex didn’t make much more of a sound after that, just clenched his jaw and lay there waiting to see what Decker would do next.
He tied the rope around the ‘o’ ring at the top of the hook, then dragged Lex up by his bound arms. Hauled him across the room with one hand on the ring at the back of his collar and the other firm around the hook that protruded about up to the small of his back. He rotated it a little, and heard the kid gasp softly as the ball pressed up against things inside him. He stopped him in the center of the room, smacked him hard enough to make him stagger when he started to bolt, then threaded the rope through a hook dangling from a ceiling beam, then drew it down and fastened it to the back ring of the collar while he was recovering. Pulled it tight so that it drew Lex up to the balls of his feet, the pressure divided between the hook deep in his ass and the collar around his neck. Without his hands to balance him it was a constant balancing act, either cutting off his air or putting tremendous pressure on the thing in his ass.
Decker stood in front of him. On his toes, they were eye level. Lex’s were strained with discomfort and fury.
“You like it?” Decker asked.
“Its fucking fantastic,” Lex growled, then shut his eyes, catching himself too late. Remembering the cursing rule. Decker shook his head. “That’s one to the nuts. You’re a slow learner.”
“God – – God – -” Lex was panting, sweat beginning to make the thin skin of his skull shine.
Decker fetched a new gag. A special one that matched the hook. All chrome and thick and phallus shaped, designed to stretch the jaw wide and stuff the mouth to overflowing. He caught Lex’s head when he tried to jerk away, stood for a second enjoying the cry of pain as he lost his balance and all his weight came down upon the hook. Decker squeezed his jaw open and forced the gag in between his teeth while he was recovering. It nestled cold and hard against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and he squealed a little around it, complaining. Decker just strapped it into place.
He walked around him, enjoying the view. Ran his hands along the tense line of his shoulders, the shell of his ear. Lex jerked his head away from that. He rubbed a nipple, pink and hard, then rolled it roughly between his fingers. Lex shut his eyes and panted around the gag.
Decker got the cattle prod then. Turned it down to the lowest setting, and started tracing it along certain places on Lex’s body. The curve of his ass. The back of his knee. The metal hook protruding from his ass – – and that made his body shake like he was palsied, so Decker did it again. He laid it to the slit of his cock, and watched it twitch and flop. Turned up the juice and hit his balls, punishment for the curse word.
It was hard to scream past the mouth filling gag, but Decker got the gist of the strangled sounds Lex was making. He stopped those about a half hour in, and hung there, not making much of an effort to take his weight off the hook and his collar.
Decker thought he’d give him a reprieve, the time to get his strength back and keep from choking, so he pressed up behind him, dragged his ass cheeks open and squeezed the head of his cock up inside him alongside the hook. It felt amazing, all the gushy warmth of Lex’s guts on the one side of him and the unforgiving metal of the hook and its knob on the other. It bruised the tip of his cock every time he rammed in, but it was a good pain. The sort that made him grind his teeth and thrust harder. He reached around, pulling and twisting Lex’s nipples as he fucked, scraping a hand down his flat, heaving belly to his limp cock, trapped inside its band of leather. He started jerking, hard and fast and Lex’s head rolled back onto his shoulder, lashes fluttering, little trickles of drool running down the corners of his stretched lips. Any fight that had been in him was long gone now. All that was left was exhausted and beaten, and about to be filled with Decker’s spunk.
He released with a grunt, straining deep inside, his cock head and the hook knot almost side by side. Lex didn’t so much as shudder. Decker stood behind him, hands on his hips for a moment, then leaned forward and suggested. “You better get your feet under you. If you don’t, this hooks either gonna rip its way right out of you, or you’re gonna choke. Either way, you’re hanging here for – – let’s start at an hour and see how that goes.”
Lex’s eyes flickered at him. Dull blue, defeated. Decker smiled and went to get a beer before he sat down and watched Lex writhe.
Jonathan Kent was in the barn struggling to pry a rusted lug nut off the tractor when he heard Martha calling for him.
She was already halfway up the stairs by the time he slammed through the door, panic eating him up inside.
“Is it Clark?” He took the stairs two at a time after her.
She was nodding, trying to get an explanation out past her labored breath. “I came to check on him – -”
Jonathan pushed past her into Clark’s room. Saw for himself.
Clark was up and standing by the window, in nothing but the boxer shorts they put him when they’d cleaned him up and brought him up here.
“Clark? Son?” Jonathan’s voice cracked.
Clark didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Just stood there, in the shaft of sunlight coming in past the curtains.
Jonathan moved to his side, put a hand cautiously on his bare arm, trying to shift him around so he could see his eyes. Clark was hard to move when he didn’t want to. It took Martha coming up and squeezing in between him and the window, soft talking, her hands on his arms, before he consented to the pressure to turn.
There wasn’t much in his eyes when he did. Just an unblinking, blank green stare, like he really wasn’t seeing them at all.
“Clark? Can you hear me?”
He took his face between his hands, trying to force eye contact. Clark stared right through him. Literally maybe. God knew what was going on inside his head. He preyed to God something was.
They got him dressed. He was malleable enough, especially in response to Martha’s soft prodding, that he sat on the edge of the bed when she pushed him down, and stood when she caught his wrists and urged him to. Nothing other than that though. They had to fasten his jeans, and pull his arms through the arms of his T-shirt.
Almost it was enough to make a man cry. But he didn’t, telling himself that a week ago he’d thought his son was dead.
“We need to see if he’ll eat.” Martha was taking charge, thinking practical thoughts when all a man could do was stand there helplessly and wonder how in hell they were going to deal with this.
They got him downstairs, a damned awkward trip, with her on Clark’s arm and Jonathan tugging his wrist. It wasn’t from any weakness on Clark’s part, just that his legs didn’t seem to get the concept of stairs. Or his brain didn’t.
They got him to the table, sat him down, but he didn’t show any interest in food. Not even Martha’s fried chicken, which was the surest sign of any that Clark wasn’t up there, because there was nothing the boy liked better than his mother’s cooking.
Martha sat for a long time, just talking to him, just chattering, lots of nonsense things that Jonathan barely heard himself. Figuring maybe that just the sound of her voice might trigger something inside him. He tried to a little, but kept getting choked up. She’d reach over and pat his hand, his wife, stronger than he was when it came to things like this.
Finally he had to escape the house and Clark’s blank gaze. He went out and worked until dark on the tractor, only half paying attention to what he was doing. When he came back in, she’d gotten Clark to the couch, and was sitting there with him reading out loud one of the books she’d used to read to him when he was younger.
There was something warming in a pot on the stove. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he ladled out a bowl anyway, consumed it standing by the sink, then went in and sat down in his armchair across from them and listened to her voice.
“I don’t think he slept,” Martha said softly to him, next morning. She’d dozed on the couch, curled up under an afghan next to Clark, while Jonathan had slept in their bed alone.
The sheriff drove up that afternoon, with one of the suited federal agents in the car. There wasn’t a lot they could do with Clark sitting on the couch and not easy to move with any speed, but let them in.
“He’s in shock,” Martha said, when they tried to ask him questions about that night with Lex. “He hasn’t spoken to us yet, either.”
“Maybe you haven’t been pressing hard enough, ma’am.” The Federal agent said in a tone of voice that suggested he’d like to get Clark alone in an interrogation room and try and do a little pressing of his own. Jonathan clenched his fists.
The sheriff frowned, mustache twitching. “I think these folks know their son better than we do, Agent Malone. They’ll give us a call when he snaps out of it.”
Jonathan nodded in grateful agreement. “You can count on it, Ethan.”
“Has there been any word on Lex?” Martha asked as Jonathan was ushering them out the door.
“No ma’am. It’s like he fell off the face of the earth. No ransom demands, no contact, no anything. It’s why we’re so hot to talk with your boy. Any clue we can get would be a big help.”
“It’s been over a week,” she said and Sheriff Ethan nodded somberly, knowing probably better than Jonathan did the chances of Lex even still being alive.
He leaned in, like he didn’t want the departing fed to hear him sharing details of the case. “It’s the lack of demands that has them worried. By all accounts the man that took him is a stone cold killer. Army trained, you know. We’ve already tracked down a string of murders we can pin on him. Clark’s damned lucky, let me tell you. This guy don’t usually leave living victims.”
She stood there, white faced, while Jonathan shook the sheriff’s hand and sent him on his way.
“That poor boy,” she whispered, and he put his arm around her, pulled her close. She had a big heart. Big enough to break for another man’s son while theirs was sitting on the couch, not much more than a vegetable. It was just one of the reasons he loved her so much.
Lex would have offered Decker everything he had. Signed over his company, emptied his bank accounts, offered any tangible possession he owned if he thought it would have made a difference. But, the only thing Decker seemed to want from him was him, a shuddering, submissive mess at his feet.
He was getting it, more often than not. The sound of his footsteps on the stairs had begun to make Lex shake uncontrollably. Fear like nothing he’d ever known, even in those miserable years after the meteor shower when he’d wanted to hide from the world, took hold and wouldn’t let go. He didn’t know when the pain was coming or what shape it would take. Sometimes Decker’s twisted mind would snap and he’d go into fugue state rages when the violence was brutal and unrelenting. Other’s he was meticulous and slow in his games, very much attached to his ‘toys’ and his devices. The end result was always the same. Lex pushed past the point of resistance, reduced to screams or whimpers or desperate pleas for succor that never came.
Decker hated it when he called Clark’s name, and sometimes he did, when his mind was white with pain or exhaustion and Clark images and Clark memories were the only thing that seemed real beneath the grim reality of his new existence.
He’d get beaten then, whipped mercilessly, before Decker fucked him with a vigor born of inarticulate rage. He’d be lucky if all Decker used was his cock to do it.
Lex’s body was one huge, throbbing ache. But he healed quickly. The cuts and the tears, the places where teeth or nails or other instruments broke skin, faded fast. Since the meteor shower all his scrapes and bruises tended to heal rapidly. The only scars he had were the ones he’d gotten young, before the rocks fell from the sky. Other things mended with unusual vigor as well. Decker raped him daily, with a variety of tools in a variety of ways. Had a fascination with opening him up and violating him on the inside that was rabid obsession. He should have lost all muscle control at his point, should have been loose and halfway to ruined, but he healed. His muscles sprang back after a few hours respite, usually when Decker was taking his own rest, and he was tight enough to hurt again when the man started back up.
It was no blessing.
Begging for simple substance was the worst. More humiliating than the things Decker forced on his body. More humiliating that the constant feel of the wretched collar around his neck. Water was earned. He’d almost forgotten what solid food tasted like, his diet consisting primarily of protein shakes, the occasional cup of yogurt which he was forced to eat in the most mortifying way. And semen. A great deal of semen. He couldn’t get the rancid taste of the man out of his mouth.
He felt dizzy most of the time, stomach aching with the emptiness. Occasionally Decker slipped something in the shakes that made the world would blur and soften and made him less inclined to nausea when Decker stuck his tongue down his throat. Made him hazily content to just lie there under the man when he was in the mood for romance.
Most of the time the man wasn’t so gentle.
He took up a project while Lex was hanging, arms drawn up behind him, gagged, a stainless steel vibrating dildo up his ass, that he’d been warned upon pain of a session with the cattle prod, not to let slip out. The constant, varying vibration from the dildo was turning his insides to the sort of jelly that induced spontaneous, helpless erections. Which in turn caused the metal, spiked band around the base of his cock to bit into engorged flesh. The excruciating pain of which deflated the budding erection, until the fucking vibrator convinced his body to start it all up again. It was a nasty cycle that he was helpless to stop.
He spent the better part of a day like that, unbearable pressure on his shoulders and back warring with unbearable sensation of another sort radiating out from his lower regions.
Decker was building a rack. Had lugged a welding machine down the basement steps and was spot welding iron bars onto a Y-shaped frame. Lex’s attention to detail was fragmented, but it seemed to be tiltable, with hinges on the two leg sections that allowed them to swing in and out. Nothing about it looked comfortable. But then comfort wasn’t Decker’s aim.
By the time he’d finished, Lex was too far gone with exhaustion and pain to notice any finishing touches. He barely noticed the man coming up, running hands down the quivering line of his back, down his hip to his presently engorged penis. There was blood running in tickling little trails down his balls where the spikes had pieced sensitive skin. The vibrator was still resolutely churning in his ass.
Decker pulled it out and went to deposit it the sink. He had a care for keeping his toys clean. He came back, and loosed Lex’s wrists. The pain surged anew with the pressure off, it always did and Lex pitched forward, vision graying. Decker caught him, one hand kneading his screaming shoulders.
“I’d let you try out the new rack tonight, but I haven’t got the current hooked up yet. Tomorrow I’ll get a couple of batteries, get the juice flowing and we’ll give her a test run.” He said it conversationally, like he was suggesting Lex test drive a potential new car.
Lex moaned into the gag, in so much discomfort now, from unending hours bent over with his arms stretched behind him, that he’d almost welcome the change.
Decker slapped the head of his cock and pain throbbed through him. “You need to pee? Come?”
He made an incoherent sound, just wanting the damn the evil ring off him. Decker didn’t bother unclipping his ankle cuffs, lifting him off his feet instead and hauling him the twenty feet to the toilet and shower. Sat him on his feet before the toilet, so close behind him Lex could feel the erection against his ass through the fatigues. Decker reached around and started unscrewing the bolt that fastened the thing on.
It took about five seconds after the blood started flowing for the pain to hit. He leaned back against Decker and choked on the scream that wanted to bubble up his throat, the only thing keeping him from collapsing into a curled knot on the floor, Decker’s arm around his waist and his hand slowly pumping Lex’s burning cock. He had no idea whether it was urine or semen that flowed out of him, the flood of release most likely would have been equally painful in his current state. It was most certainly blood lubricating Decker’s hand as he fondled him, pinching the base and rubbing in the hurt.
He half fainted from it. Only marginally aware of Decker taking his weight again, an arm under his shoulders, one under his knees and carting him back to the bed. The dizziness wouldn’t stop.
He moaned from it, tossing his head. He was going to die here, like this, in terror and in pain, either from a miscalculation on his captor’s part, or a premeditated move, planned and carried out with all the slow, meticulous care that the bastard had promised.
It was inconceivable that this could go on indefinitely otherwise. He’d loose his grip on sanity. And given the choice between gibbering madness and death, death was the more attractive alternative.