When evil is a palpable thing, you know, or at least you should. We all tell ourselves that we're good, and the brutality of the world at large can't touch our lives. That the bad things only happen to other people. Richard swam within a sea of agony.
All the illusions on which his life was built tumbled down. The foundation of his mind was beyond damaged it was eradicated. Everything that made him a person and gave him definition as a man was taken away. And in the background of his mind, the entire time was something laughing at him. And saying, "I was once like you, so long ago when man was just an infant...you disgust me!" then new, fresh waves of pain would inundate around him. He wanted to cry out, to scream, some expression of his terror and torture, but his own mouth had turned traitor.
No matter how hard he tried, there was no part of his body that would move. Nothing that would respond to his command. A part of his mind screamed at him that this wasn't right, he should be able to stop it if he wanted to. But in the end, nothing could stop the agony.
He passed out several times, but when he awoke, he noticed something else. The blinding barrage of nerve fire was gone. Oh, he hurt, he hurt worse than he ever had in his life. Worse than the time the bullies at the private academy his parents sent him to found out he'd slept with a classmate. They'd beat him so bad he'd had to go to the hospital. That was nothing compared to this, and still, the ache of his body was as nothing compared to what had been happening to him over the past several hours.
"I see you're awake, it is about time. The sun is close to rising and you have work to do." The cold smile was enough to make him shudder even from across the room. Richard rose from the place where he had been on the floor. He could smell the urine and excrement where in his thrashing he'd lost control of his bowels.
"Wash yourself, you are a frightful mess." Richard jumped as though scalded. He ran to the bathroom, afraid that to move too slowly would be seen as defiance. He could here the laughter behind him, could feel the strings of his master's mind as it pulled him to its will.
The water was turned on and he jumped in, it was biting cold, but he didn't feel it. He had to get clean, and fast. Soon all the shit and urine had run down the drain, and the liquid soap had cleansed his body, the hidden places, those places that would bring his master pleasure. The happier the master was, the less pain he would feel.
He was out of the shower and his towel was being quick about its work. He could feel the master getting impatient with his progress, it was like a thousand violin bows playing on broken glass, and every note was an agony. His eyes glazed as he felt the influence.
Finally when he was certain that he was dry, so as not to become musty, he emerged into the room. The red headed source of his agony and salvation sat on the edge of the bed. A toothy grin that would have been cute on anyone else, but on this semblance of life it was a blasphemy. To look upon that angelic face was to know death by fire, being stoned until dead. It was to see babies torn to pieces by wild dogs while their mothers laughed. It was to see an ocean of suffering and not be able to do a damned thing about it, because you know that at any moment it is going to swallow you.
"Come here." Richard knelt at his masters leather wrapped knee. His long wavy brown hair falling into his face. "Do you know why I chose you?"
Richard shook his head, "I can't hear you!" The words echoed in his mind until there was nothing left but the pounding. He forced himself to say it, "I don't know master."
That smile was back, "Of course you don't, you don't know anything." His hand was tracing lazy circles around Richard's brow, his long thick fingers toying with the hair. "But that is sufficient, your stupidity will serve me well. It will lead me straight to what I really want." This last was said as his face broke into a full smile. "Now, stand."
Richard shot to his feet, he was followed by the master. His hand trailed down richard's back, wherever it touched the skin reddened and blistered. He felt the dimpled buttock, perfection given form, found the hole hidden in its warm confines. "Oh Richard, it seems as though you don't love me, your ass isn't even warm." He couldn't see the tears Richard was already crying. But he could smell them in the air, and then one hand snaked around to the other man's face and collected some of those tears on his finger, so that he might taste Richard's pain. The other hand found that dark little hole and pushed in, which would have been quite enough pain. But the fire that shot through Richard's prone body wasn't the fire of exposed nerves treated roughly. It was the fire of dark magic blistering his most sensitive skin. When the cock, easily the largest he'd ever seen, slammed into him, with the same overwhelming fire, his back arched and he screamed. He screamed so loud his voice broke. His agony manifested only by the sound of powerful slaps against his burning ass, his dry throated rasps, and the unmistakable smell of burning flesh.
It had doubled back. Hunter couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. The thing had been waiting for him at the club. The bridge had been a diversion to occupy him for a time. He shuddered to think what could have occurred while he was scouting the waterfront. The trail was so cold now that it couldn't lead him anywhere. He had little in way of tapable resources, and without something remarkably like divine intervention, he was in very serious trouble. His only saving grace was the sun. He could see it rising over the edge of far away buildings. It would pen the creature in, keeping it from hurting more people until the break of day. He turned sharp on his heel. The smell of fish and polluted air had become to much for him. Besides, now his back as against a wall, and he had to make hard decisions. One thing was for certain however. He couldn't do this alone. He didn't know this city he didn't know these people. Without knowledge of both, he was alone and without a fall back position. He headed for downtown. His coat, a long brown thing of some soft hide the people of New York would have called the height of fashion, in the mid eighties, billowed behind him. His mind was in a deep turmoil of frustration. Every hour that passed was another person that could be hurt, or far, far worse. The only saving grace was the sun, and there weren't nearly enough sunlit hours to combat the relative feeding frenzy the night brought about. And it wasn't even starting yet. This one had barely had the time it needed to fully control the form it had taken. Soon the full effect of its powers would become manifest, and then it would be hundred times more dangerous. If it reached adult hood before the hunter could neutralize it, the real danger would come from the things ability to reproduce. And He knew there was no way he could stop all the children alone. The only other time throughout history that one had escaped death to live into reproduction had taken five hunters several years and many, many lives. No, it could not happen again. Hunter picked his way through the people that were now rushing on their way to work. His head tipped down and the dark fedora hid eyes that he knew were far too memorable. He only glanced up on occasion to see which street he was on, and to ask for directions to the next landmark. It had taken him a long time to put all the information he had together so that he could navigate the city without letting the person he was gleaning the information from know what he was doing. Finally, he was there, a large brownstone building. The type you don't see much anymore. Not that he'd ever seen one, but that didn't matter. He felt out with his senses, and got a surprise. His grin spread wide, and his teeth gleamed in the early morning light. This would be a very large, very entertaining surprise. He went through the unlocked door, or at least it was unlocked after he waved his hand and expelled a breath of power to turn the tumblers. It was a complicated lock, not like the ones back home. There weren't many doors in the jungle, but that only meant that if there was a door, then there was something extra special behind it. He followed the 'scent' up the stairs, several flights of them.
Finally he came to a door with 27A in bronze lettering on it. He large hand came out and rapped once. There was no answer, like a sound in the forest that causes everything to go still. He knocked again, this time he hears some grunts, and a giggle from beyond.
They had tried to sleep all the way through the night. But at some obscure point in the early morning, a gently, tickling, caress awoke Darren. Then he felt something warm and wet on his neck, then teeth on his earlobe. At this point he was awake enough to feel the hard cock pressing between the soft globes of his buttocks.
He maneuvered a little so the straining tip could find the opening more easily. He felt a finger coating with spit push at the pucker until it loosened and allowed the guest in. After several minutes of sheer bliss, the finger withdrew and he felt something larger and hotter demand entrance, wild horses and guardian angels couldn't convince him to keep Terry's dick out.
He pushed back, catching the other man a little by surprise. He bit back the urge to cry out, fully aware that the pain was only momentary. He felt the dick swell inside him. The heat was a pulsing thing in his bottom, it screamed pleasure at his mind. Suddenly it dawned on him, this was beyond the most pleasurable fuck he ever had. The dick wasn't just seesawing against his prostate. He was orgasming, a low level orgasm yes, but it was continuous. The pleasure in his ass was so powerful it was beyond anything he'd ever felt before.
He realized this wasn't just a bedroom skill that someone picked up, he knew he was right, when he looked to the wall he could see the outline of his body as Terry glowed behind him. He pushed the cock from his ass and flopped around on the bed so he could face the man who would work magic on his body without permission.
"Wha...I, don't be mad." Darren looked at him hard for a minute.
"Gottcha, I want you on top. I want to see you glow when you're inside me." Darren purred into Terry's ear.
For his part the blonde witch was more than happy to comply. He rolled on top of Darren and lined his fuck tool up with the sweet dark hole and pulsed inside of him in one long, deep thrust. This time his own pleasure was intensified by the look of wonder and beauty on Darren's face. The glow became brighter, and the pleasure he lent to Darren's ass intensified, and the two of them came long before either one of them wanted to.
As they lay there panting for long minutes after, Darren finally got enough strength to say, "God, that was amazing." Though it was more of a rasp.
"thanks, thought you'd like it." He could hear the unabashed humor in Terry's voice.
"Who taught you how to do that?" Darren was curious, if the only training Terry had ever gotten was from an old Indian, than Darren now had a mental image he didn't want.
"I taught myself, with a few of the local village lads to practice on." He smirked. The statement snapped at Darren, he certainly knew that Terry hadn't been a virgin. The thought of golden boy Terry with those dark skinned, exotic Indians was enough to light the fire under Darren again. He wondered if his sex drive was ever going to be the same again, with terry around.
The sun was peaking up from beyond the canyon of buildings and they both decided food was the order of the day, so they wrapped up in the top blanket and walked together to the kitchen, taking turns swiping something out of the fridge and feeding it to the other. It was like a honeymoon without the marriage. When Terry got out the pickles, they both laughed, not that they didn't eat them in record time. But soon after they pulled up short. A knock sounded on the door. They were dead quiet.
Darren knew that no one knew where this apartment was, his parents didn't even know yet as his family and he rarely socialized together, and his infrequent calls and visits to their estate had recently dropped even more. Who the fuck was at his door? Another knock, "you gonna answer it?"
Darren thought for a second, "Yeah, I hope it is my dad, if he saw you and me like this he'd have a heart attack!" Terry pinched him on the ribs eliciting a grunt for his troubles.
"That is evil!" he hissed, but they were both giggling. Darren made for the door, with Terry wrapped in the blanket with him. They got to the door, and there not being a keyhole, threw back the deadbolt and opened the door in a hurry. Sure that whomever waited beyond was going die at their little joke, they yelled 'hello', as the door flew open.
Darren wasn't sure what happened, though he felt Terry stiffen behind him and not in the way he come to love so much. And he was sure he heard a little gasp. Darren didn't know what the fuss was, but he wanted to salvage a little dignity. "Sorry, thought you were someone else, how can I help you."
The man smiled, his swarthy, faintly handsome features glowed with a strange kind of gentle light. "I would appreciate a glass of water and a chance to sit down. It has been a long night." His voice held more than a trace of a Spanish accent, though it held some odd inflections that he had never heard before.
"Well sir, wherever you come from, here we generally like to know who people are, before we allow them into our homes." Darren was too shocked at the outright gall of the man, far too shocked to actually be angry.
The man smiled again and his perfect teeth shown with personality. "A wise tradition, though it does point to a somewhat jaded outlook on life. That is the good thing about living in the jungle, everyone knows everyone and no one is a stranger, at least not for long...isn't that right Terry?" The man smiled again and somehow managed to walk right past Darren into the living room. He couldn't have been sure, but some of the same rush he felt on the few occasions terry had done something of a mystic nature jolted through his head.
"Wha...Terry do you know this guy?" Darren's temper was beginning to overtake his shock. He looked at the person bundled up with him in the too constricting blanket.
"Dar, you remember I told you about Tep. He's the one that helped with... you know." Terry seemed reluctant to say anything, and his voice had pitched much lower. It was so low a whisper would have deafened them all.
"You told me about 'ol Tep', you said he was an old Indian joo joo man or something." Darren could swear he heard a snort at the old comment.
"And that I am Darren, I have been 'ol tep for more years than you have been alive, a good deal more. Now, Terry if you would be so kind, I really would like that glass of water now." Terry moved without thinking. He unraveled himself from the blanket and strode nude to the kitchen. Darren was nonplussed; his eyebrows touched his forehead. Terry had never been cavalier about nudity, even in high school, that he would so casually choose to show his naked body in front of someone spoke volumes about the person. The only problem was the he didn't have a clue what it said.
Darren flicked his eyes over to the man on the couch; he could here the icemaker then the sink running. Terry appeared from the corner of his eye and handed him the stranger's glass. "You have to give it to him Dar." Darren, who was not following any of this look at him in confusion; as though seeking explanation.
"It is custom, you don't want to insult him. He never leaves the jungle, if he's here, then there is a damn good reason." There was insistence in Terry's eyes, so he went along with it. He didn't like it, he wasn't the type to allow other's rudeness in his home.
"Here you go," he handed the glass of water to the stranger who took it with a polite nod of the head, and tasted the water. Apparently it wasn't up to his standards, his large nose wrinkled and his mouth made a twisting gesture. Darren rolled his eyes. "I should have expected this from such a place, the water here is as dead as the people!"
It wasn't the usual kind of comment one would have expected, though Darren knew it was rude. Before he could say anything Terry jumped into the exchange, "So, Tep, what brings you to the big apple?"
"Apple, I have seen no apples, I see no fruit or trees. This place is dead achisa, how can you choose to live in a place such as this one. I will never understand your desire to leave." The words were those spoken from a weary father to his headstrong son, and it touched a serious nerve. Darren could tell that this tacit compliance with his wishes bothered Terry. Then Tep's eyes looked up at Darren with a sharp, appraising gaze, "or maybe it is all too easy to understand. Get him back to the jungle Terry, unlearn him of all this drudgery." He gestured around him. Terry knew it wasn't a penthouse, but he was proud of what he had done with the place.
Terry, apparently was used to the man's wanderings and tangents, he cut in sharply, "Tep, cut to the chase, you didn't come here for one errant pupil, what the hell dragged your ass out of the jungle?"
The man grinned, from looking into his eyes, you wanted to call him old, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. His face was too young. "Ah Terry, I miss you. No one else will say such things to me. They are so afraid of hurting my feelings, to think they come from a line of proud warriors, now they are scared of my shadow!" He sighed; it was a weary, concerned sound.
"You are of course, right. I didn't come to this forsaken outpost of man for you. Though I would have given time I think." He took another sip of the water. "Achisa we have a very large problem."
Terry was intent to hear what it was; Darren had slipped back into the comfortable little envelope of shock he'd dwelled in for the last day and a half.
"It escaped." Darren didn't know what 'it' was, but Terry apparently did, he let out a string of obscenities that would have made any sailor glow with pride.
"how?"
Tep didn't answer immediately, his head tilted to one side and he wasn't looking directly at Terry, avoiding his eyes. "Peter."
Terry's entire mood changed, he was no longer intent, he too was stunned. He sat back against the edge of the futon, his eyes wide and focused on Tep. "How, how in the hell could this happen!" The fury of his voice was enough to make Darren flinch, he knew enough to wait and watch while this little drama played itself out.
Tep seemed not to notice the very not friendly look he was getting. "I am not entirely certain. After what happened to your Peter, he should have been insane and starving in the jungle. Not in new York, feasting on half the town and growing smart enough and fast enough to outwit and outrun me." There was fire in the voice, and something else. It made Darren shiver, and he didn't want to inspect it too closely.
Terry didn't back down from whatever it was, but oddly at first it seemed as though he was mad at Tep, but now Darren wasn't so sure. Terry was looking pissed all right, but at something abstract. Darren didn't know anything, and to be honest at this point he was getting just a little bit tired of it.
"Wait a minute... you said he's...what, here?!" Terry's eyes got wider still, "How the hell did he get here? I didn't think they left the jungle!"
"In the olden times they never got past the boundaries of the empire, which would be what is now all jungle. It wasn't a matter of them not wanting out, our hunters were simply too good." Tep said this with pride; it beamed out of him.
Darren had finally stomached the last revelation he could take, without throwing something that is. He raised his hand, "Excuse me, the peanut gallery has a few questions."
Tep and Terry both looked at him, Terry realizing for the first time in five minutes that he was in the room. And Tep with all the irritation of a crabby grandfather who really doesn't want to get stuck with the grandkids so his brats can go necking at the drive in. "Yes?"
"You can drop the tone with me buster, you are in my house, and no matter how 'dead' it may be, you will not disrespect me under my own roof! And second," he rounded on Terry, "I have swallowed a lot from you, and will swallow more, but this shit has to stop. Tell me what the hell is going on, and I mean now, or get your shit and get out!" he was seething. He had taken years of abuse at Richard's hands, had sacrificed his pride and dignity, been pushed under the rug for everyone else's convenience. He was tired of it, and that knowing little smirk that Tep seemed to wear like a hat, sure as hell wasn't helping much.
In answer to his outburst Tep laughed, and Darren knew he was about to hit someone for the first time in his life. "I like this one Terry, he has spleen. Can't say that for a lot of kids these days." He looked back at Darren, "fine, young man, you want answers, for what it is worth what I know, you shall know."
Darren took his seat on an errant bar stool, he didn't care if he was three feet taller than the other man. He knew he was being dwarfed. "Peter, as I'm sure you have been told, is as you American's would say, an asshole. He did foul and dishonest things to our little Achisa, and would have done far worse had he not been stopped. Now he is in your city, and is somehow changed." Tep looked at him, his dark eyes mirrors, as though challenging him.
Darren wanted to back down, but his pride wouldn't let him. He stared straight back into those eyes, feeling smaller every second he did so. "That is crazy...but, no more crazy than the rest of it."
Tep smiled, there was very little humor in it, "Well, now that we have your approval..."
Darren perked right back up, "You can leave you know. No matter what is goin on with this Pete guy."
Tep made a placating gesture with his hands. "Fine, no more words. I need his help," his large chin pointed at Terry, "He knows Peter's mind, or what was once his mind. I cannot track him anymore. This city makes it too difficult."
Terry looked a little stricken, "Tep I can't seek his mind. I don't know how, and besides, I can't face that again." His words carried a bit of the tremor that had started in his gut.
Tep's expression softened, "Of course not Achisa, I know you lack the knowledge, and I would not knowingly put you in harms way, all I need is access to your mind for a brief moment."
He was so sore it hurt to breath, though it wasn't as bad as the first time. His master had healed him, then fucked him again with his burning cock. He could still feel tension as his stomach remembered the agony.
After that had been another healing. Even that hurt, what Richard knew should have brought pleasure, he didn't know how he knew it, but he did, brought only more pain. That's when he figured out that his master was prolonging the process, making the muscle knit slowly and tear apart every time he moved.
"Come here, slave." Richard crawled along the floor, his every movement and testament to the agony of his unmarked flesh. He knew it was by this creature's will that he lived, and only by its will could he die. The only way he would be granted his release was to serve, if he did as he was told. Anything else, and there was no suffering imaginable that could equal what his master would give him.
Richard didn't look up, not without being spoken to. He felt a soft hand, lift his chin. The naked form before him was beautiful; there wasn't a mark on him. The skin was flawless, and somehow that perfection made it even worse to behold. The hand tightened as though sensing his thoughts. "Do you wish to please me?" There was no reason beyond its own natural sadism, for his master to ask. It knew exactly what he wanted.
"Yes master." Full lips parted in a smile that could freeze an angel's heart.
"Good," His head was pushed onto the waiting crotch. The cock didn't burn as it had before. Now he was being given a chance to prove his worth, now and only now. His tongue darted along the head, flicking the sensitive nerves into frenzy. The thick mushroom finally sliding into a mouth both hot and moist. Then an inch of the shaft, Richard's expert tongue was flowing around the organ that was his torture, and his salvation. He did everything he knew to please that cock. His master let out no sounds of pleasure, though his expertise must have garnered some response.
He didn't feel the hands that flipped him and around. This told Richard that there probably hadn't been any. His legs were wrenched open, he heard the hips pop. The stab of pain was more than his senses could take and he could no longer feel his legs.
His master walked in front of him, his cock large and swollen. Normally the prick would have made Richard excited, to see it so wonderfully engorged. But attached to this creature it was beyond repulsive.
The master put his head by Richard's, "You still think. You'll learn." He walked around Richard's levitating body. Taking the age old position behind him, using its precum it slicked the suffering hole. The touch of the cock venom started the flesh to sizzling. The little pucker trembled and tried to close, as though attempting to shut out the pain. It was no use, the four inch thick cock slid into the hole. Richard had stopped to care why no one heard his screams.
Eventually his mind could take no more pain and he didn't even feel the rhythmic thrusts against his ass. He could only see the tremors in the room when harder contact was made with his body. Eventually he felt the rush of burning cum as it ate its way trhough his body. He wondered if unchecked it would eventually consume him all the way to the heart. He would never be given the chance to know, the burning stopped and then true pain began. The monster was healing him. He broke with reality and sank into the soft confines of a sleep so deep that no pain could touch him there.