Chattanooga Supernaturals: Riding The Storm Part 14

"Put me on speakerphone, so we can all have a proper conversation."

Abbott put his phone in the center of the table and Abel said, "What can I do for you, Aaron?"

"Since you've been brought into this by virtue of one of your people, can I ask for your help in neutralizing the situation on behalf of your girl, without having to resort to the treaty between the Owls and Swans?"

Abel was silent a few moments and finally said, "No, but I'll do it as a personal favor to you, to try to make up for the insult to you and your wife when I ordered her abduction. She's long since forgiven me, but I'm aware you have not."

Aaron was silent long enough Kendra thought he was going to refuse, but he finally said, "I'll consider a step towards forgiveness, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. What do you need from me?"

"I need to work with Abbott and Kendra while they're still awake. I'll contact you with your instructions after dawn."

Chapter Fifteen.

Eric had known someone was in his head, but hadn't been able to get them out. They'd somehow forced him to remain motionless as they boarded his yacht, put him on a boat, drove to a marina, transferred him to a car, drove to the middle of nowhere, and then flew him to wherever here was. All he knew was it was on top of a remote mountain, with no visible streets leading to the mostly underground fortress.

Putting a shield up didn't kick out the intruder in his brain, but when the people who'd abducted him handed him over to other people, he felt them pounding his shields, unsuccessfully trying to get in.

"I thought this man wasn't a human companion?"

"Not to my knowledge, why?"

"I can't get in. Did you have problems?"

"None." He felt someone else trying to come in, and then, "He wasn't shielded when we took him. He's been taught, but hasn't learned to hold them fulltime, apparently."

Eric realized he could move now that everyone was out of his head, but knew he was no match against vampires. He pointed his thoughts towards Abbott, called to him, but there was no response. He tried Kendra, but again, no response.

He took a breath and told his captors, "I'm under the protection of The Abbott, and demand to make a phone call."

"The Abbott will be compensated for your loss. Did he teach you to shield?"

"No one taught me. I read a book after a testing made me curious." He concentrated on the true portion of his statement, and hoped they didn't smell the lie.

One of the vampires grew long talons on her hands, stepped to him, and within seconds Eric's clothes were in tatters at his feet.

"First lesson will be what happens to you when you shield your mind from us."

Someone grabbed his arms, held them behind his back, and another person knelt before him and grabbed his nuts. Eric sidestepped them, but the pain in his arms and b.a.l.l.s had him moving back in place with a scream.

Five seconds later his c.o.c.k was in a steel prison, a steel ring was snug behind his b.a.l.l.s, nearly strangling them, and someone put a heavy weight at the base of the ring, dragging his b.a.l.l.s toward the floor. Eric closed his eyes, breathed through the pain, and concentrated on the egg shaped metal shield around him, as if he were in a one-person s.p.a.ceship.

Kendra and Abbott would come for him, he just had to keep everyone out of his head until he was rescued.

"Can't you just bite him and force him to our will?" one of the men asked, and another answered, "Not until The Abbott and his third have been compensated and the paperwork complete. Natalia might choose to do so when she arrives, but I won't risk the wrath of The Abbott by having the blood of someone under his protection flowing through my veins."

This person stepped in front of Eric and sounded like an attorney, his voice precise and authoritative as he said, "You'll earn water, food, sleep, and the ability to enjoy an erection with good behavior. Misbehavior will earn you pain and humiliation. Your girlfriend started legal proceedings for a hearing, and until the hearing we can't alter you permanently." Eric opened his eyes and took in the teenager in front of him, common sense telling him if this was a vampire, the teen looks were deceiving. The boy-man continued. "Since by all accounts you're likely an a.n.a.l virgin, we can't f.u.c.k your a.s.s until after the hearing, but nothing says you can't provide oral s.e.x to both the males and females who demand it. We can't turn you into a vampire or any kind of shapeshifter, nor can we do anything that'll create a permanent scar. However, there are millions of things we can do to bring you inline, until the hearing where you become the irrevocable property of the Media Council, from which point we can do whatever we wish, including kill you, should you prove to be untrainable."

He looked to someone behind Eric and said, "Standard intake procedures, with physical shackles and an extra guard, since we can't force his compliance as yet. Use as many guards as you need to get him into the restraints."

Eric tried to fight, but with five people working on him at once, within minutes he was in a contraption so devious, only the truly sick and demented could've come up with it.

Metal bars were bound to the outsides of his legs, wide elastic and Velcro straps joining them above his ankles, above and below his knees, and at the top of his thighs. The bars came to practically his underarms, and were connected to his torso as well. The bars were articulated at his knees and hips in a sick mechanical exoskeleton.

More bars were put on his arms, and ended in a metal fist they folded his hand into.

The articulated joints could be locked into position, forcing him to stand, sit, spread his legs, hold them together... he was no longer in control of his limbs.

Rough hands pushed him over a contraption, his body bent at the waist and his limbs secured to the equipment via the exoskeleton, his arms over his head, his legs spread, and he jerked in his restraints as a greased finger touched his a.s.shole.

"They said you had to leave my a.s.s alone!"

"No, we can't f.u.c.k you here, or do anything to take away your virginity. This is a thin, standard enema tube. The trainers hate it when they literally scare the s.h.i.t out of their pupils, so you'll be cleaned before you enter the official training areas."

Eric had given submissives enemas before, but he'd been kind, gentle, and talked them through it. Ma.s.saged their tummies when they cramped, told them how good they were doing, encouraged them they could hold more, helped them change positions when they asked nice.

But this was brutal. The double balloon valve a.s.sured the water they put in would stay until they allowed it out, and they had a pressure monitor, and only stopped putting more water in when the pressure told them they were at risk of rupturing his bowels. He screamed and begged through the cramps, but they didn't slow the water, and it was impossible for him to move to try to relieve the pressure or the cramps.

Through it all, he kept the image of the shield in his head, determined the a.s.sholes were not going to get into his head again.

While the water went in, they added more weights to the ring around his b.a.l.l.s, used a vibrator on the solid steel cage around his c.o.c.k, and added cruel, teethed, biting nipple clamps.

He almost gave in when they added weights to the nipple clamps, too, but he remembered how it'd felt to not have control of his limbs, where he looked, or even what he thought, and he held the shield strong.

When they finally decided to stop the water, they bent him forward a little more, adjusted his head, and put a Jennings gag in his mouth. He knew what was coming next, and he closed his eyes, imagined the s.p.a.ce-age strong metal egg around him, and waited for someone to stick their c.o.c.k in his mouth.

He lost track of the number of men who f.u.c.ked his mouth, more than ten, probably less than twenty, before they finally released the nozzle in his a.s.s and s.h.i.tty water flowed out of him.

He was in an arena, of sorts, though it only sat perhaps two dozen people, all of the seats were full as he stood in place and spewed s.h.i.t and water all over the floor, his legs, and feet.

Someone hosed him down with ice cold water, and he held back the whimper in his throat as the balloon was once again poked into his a.s.s and inflated, then the outer balloon, and the water started again.

The cramps were worse this time, and he was screaming long before enough water was in for the pressure to start hurting. He didn't know what they'd put in the water, and no one volunteered the information, but it burned and cramped like the fires of h.e.l.l.

They gave him five enemas, the last two coming out just water with no smell, before moving him.

He must've given fifty b.l.o.w. .j.o.bs, and his jaw ached from being held open so long. His throat was sore from having so many c.o.c.ks a.s.sault and invade, and he had a good idea of who used him simply because he was available, and who enjoyed hurting and humiliating him. He had no idea what he'd do with the information, but it'd seemed important to make note.

Also, he was used to Kendra being cool to the touch, and many of the men who raped his mouth and throat were, but many were also warm, some downright hot, and he wondered if some weren't shapeshifters.

If so, his hopes of being left alone once dawn hit were dashed.

He was once again sprayed down with freezing cold water, though nothing had smelled on this last expulsion. Someone put shaving cream in the crack of his a.s.s, and he was very still as he felt a straight razor shaving his a.s.shole.

When they finished his a.s.shole and the back of his nuts, he was placed on a hard table, his limbs situated so he felt like a dead roach lying on his back, and the s.a.d.i.s.tic b.a.s.t.a.r.d working on him proceeded to shave his entire groin, stomach, chest, and underarms. Never mind his chest and stomach were hairless. His arms were also shaved, and he dreaded the itch when everything started growing back.

He kept himself neatly trimmed, but didn't like having to deal with stubble, so he didn't often shave anything terribly close... but that wasn't the point here. Being forced into position, no way to move or fight, while someone methodically shaved him, was humiliating.

However, Eric held the shield around his mind. They might rape his body, but they wouldn't rape his mind again.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the metal armor around him, transporting himself to another place as the man used the straight razor on Eric's throat and face. He wanted to protest when his eyebrows were shaved, but refused to acknowledge what was being done to him.

Next, they sat him up and used the straight razor to get rid of the hair on his head, too, and now Eric felt them stripping him of his ident.i.ty with every sc.r.a.pe of the razor. Silly, really, to feel your ident.i.ty is wound up in your hair, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

They stood him up, leaned him over a single metal bar, and he knew his hipbones would be bruised before long.

Someone relaxed the reticulated exoskeleton around his arms, placed his hands on the back of his head, and locked the joints again.

His knees were locked straight, his hips bent at an angle so he leaned over the bar and couldn't stand, no matter how hard he fought against the metal holding him in place.

Fury laced through his veins, but still, he held the image of the shiny, strong, metal egg around him, keeping the mother-f.u.c.kers out of his head.

"You will call me Master," the man standing in front of him demanded. "I am the primary trainer, and since you've proven to be a bit of a problem child, you'll begin your lessons with me."

"f.u.c.k you, a.s.shole."

The trainer motioned to people behind him, and Eric felt the joints at his hips being let loose, and then his legs were spread wide. The bar was lowered a little as his legs went wider, and wider, and then they not only tightened the hip joints down again, they ran a strap around his big toe, around his ankle, and then connected this loop to a recessed attachment point in the floor. When he tried to move his foot, it pulled painfully on his big toe.

Perhaps he should keep his thoughts to himself until Kendra arrived to rescue him.

"Address me as Master," the trainer demanded, but Eric closed his eyes and didn't speak.

He grunted as he felt a needle going through his n.u.t.s.a.c.k, in one side and out the other, though it didn't penetrate the ball inside, it only speared the s.c.r.o.t.u.m. It hurt, but as long as there was no infection, it wasn't damaging.

He remembered what they'd told him about not being able to permanently alter him in any way, and took comfort he could withstand whatever they threw at him for however many more hours it would be until his rescue team arrived.

"Bark for me."

Again, Eric remained silent, and this time a horrible clamp was placed on the skin at his side, perhaps six inches below his armpit, had he been standing.

He groaned, but didn't scream, and the man again ordered "Address me as Master."

This time he received a needle through his right nipple as well as a strike from a horrid, thick, loopy johnny to the meat of his left a.s.s cheek.

His torturer went back and forth with questions, and orders - who taught you to shield your mind, oink like a pig, address me as Master, what is your official designation with Kendra - but Eric stayed silent.

After each question, someone attached another cruel clamp somewhere on his body, or stuck a needle through his skin and back out the other side, as if sewing... and then struck him with either the loopy johnny or a cruel leather strap.

So, when they finally asked a question he didn't mind answering, he only paused a few seconds before answering, "I live on my yacht, where your people abducted me."

This time, the clamp on his left nipple, the most painful item they'd put on him, was removed, and someone ran a gentle hand over his a.s.s, soothing where they'd been striking.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I create video games."

A needle came out of the top of his arm... giving him immense relief to the nerve it'd been skewering, and someone rubbed across the skin where it'd come out, further easing the pain.

Four more questions he didn't mind answering, followed by something painful being removed, and then a soothing gesture, and then, "Address me as Master."

It would've been so easy to do it, to keep from feeling pain again, but he took a breath and held it, sealing his lips shut to be sure he didn't accidently follow the order.

An even crueler clamp went onto his nipple, and the strap struck his a.s.s three times, instead of once, each pulling a tortured scream from him.

"Bark like a dog."

A count of ten, in his head, and the skin of his right kneecap was pulled out, and a needle rammed into it and out the other side, through both layers of flesh.

This time, the loopy johnny hit his right calf, then his left calf, and Eric screamed when he moved his feet the two inches his bondage allowed, only to jerk his big toes. He moved his feet back into position to relieve the pressure on his toes, suddenly so overwhelmed with the pain going from his face to his feet, in so many places and ways.

You can do this, he told himself. It's a simple, biological fear and pain response - adrenaline and endorphins. Ride it out. You've been in worse pain after a s...o...b..arding tumble off the mountain, and then in the b.u.mpy helicopter ride to the hospital. Hold it together. Help will come.

He reinforced his shields and thought of Kendra. He didn't know why he couldn't contact Kendra or Abbott - whether it was distance, or perhaps if the supernaturals had done something to keep him from reaching out for help.

He was certain, however, that Kendra would come for him.

The torture went on for hours, basic conditioning behavior - obey and you're treated with kindness, disobey and you're hurt. He wished he had the willpower to disobey every command, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt for the commands he didn't mind answering... the ones they already knew the answer to.

Eventually, they took the tubular cage off his c.o.c.k and replaced it with one shaped like a spiral cage. This one wouldn't allow him an erection, either, but let them poke needles into his c.o.c.k, put clamps on it, and torture him even worse with a vibrator.

"Drop your shields and the chast.i.ty cage goes away, Eric."

He never dropped them, no matter the threat, no matter the promise of whatever reward they offered if he let them into his mind.

He was aware when a good portion of the people left, including the trainer working on him, and figured this meant it was dawn. New people came in, bent him over a little more, and then his mouth was once again raped, over and over, and many of the men came around a second time.

No one told him to release the shield on his mind, and he wondered if any of the shapeshifters had the ability to control him, should he drop the shield. He held it strong, though, just in case.

One of the shapeshifters rammed his c.o.c.k down Eric's throat and held inside. At first, Eric thought he was imagining the already huge c.o.c.k lengthening, but then he realized he wasn't, and his stomach tried to make him puke, but the c.o.c.k was lodged firmly in his throat and what felt like halfway down his esophagus, so nothing could come up.

As the shapeshifter withdrew his c.o.c.k, sure enough, it was nearly a foot long as it came out - skinnier than when it went in, but still thick enough to stretch Eric's throat and make him gag.

When the man finally came, he did so buried deep, his c.o.c.k jerking as it spurted inside Eric, dumping the load straight into his gut. He fought to move his arms, still at the back of his head, but couldn't move them, couldn't do anything to escape or even change positions to relieve his aching muscles... he had to take what man after man after man gave him.

When the main trainer returned, Eric was full of hope. If this was dusk, Kendra could be here in the next hour. He might not have to hold on much longer.

He'd been given two ounces of water in increments, and Eric suspected it was once an hour. It wasn't enough to soothe his thirst, but would keep him alive. He'd also ingested no telling how much e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e, but he didn't want to think of that.

When he'd told them he needed a bathroom, they'd told him to pee where he was. Eventually, he'd been forced to do just that, and they'd once again sprayed him down with cold water.