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Island Slave

By: vividwhite

folder Angst › Slash - Male/Male

Rating: Adult ++

Chapters: 5

Views: 9,191

Reviews: 14

Recommended: 0

Currently Reading: 5

Category: Angst › Slash - Male/Male

Rating: Adult ++

Chapters: 5

Views: 9,191

Reviews: 14

Recommended: 0

Currently Reading: 5

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited

No Escape

Chapter Four

-

A month had passed since Cirris had been brought to Prince Farahi, but not much had changed.

Despite the Prince's friendly overtures, calm voice, and promises, Cirris had no trust in the man because he had no trust in any man. Unlike with Luthias, he owed Farahi nothing.

Yet, his life was easy. Not that he knew how to relax, even though there seemed to be no one trying to catch him here. The other servants rarely favored him a glance, and when they did, it was to offer up a polite smile before continuing on with their duties. The small but ornate mansion was downright peaceful compared to the bustle of the hotel and casino he had lived in for so many years.

After a couple of weeks, Cirris slept for the first time in his bed, instead of on the floor in the corner, hidden. His body no longer trembled constantly, nor were his senses on red alert every second of every day.

Still, he remained alone as much as possible out of habit for the sake of his safety.

Alone, that is, as far as people were concerned.

As it turned out, Prince Farahi loved animals, and owned many. In his barn and paddocks lived two adopted, older Heritage Brumbies, and one Brumby yearling. He also had several pets; two dogs, five housecats, and almost every feral feline on the island came to his place for snacks, which were put out every day for them.

The dogs of course stayed close by the house, or they followed Farahi. But the cats were different, more subtle in their seeking of affection, more aloof. Cirris understood them.

The Prince was amazed watching him, at just how quickly he was accepted by these wild cats. By the hour the boy would patiently sit amongst them, making only soft sounds and subtle movements, enticing them to trust him.

Other times, he would stand at the pasture fence gazing at the horses. Interestingly, Farahi noticed that Cirris spoke to the animals often and long, under his breath. Farahi, who didn’t intrude on the other’s space, couldn’t distinguish the words, but it was easy to judge the animal’s reactions. Cirris became like one of them.

Yet, as social as the boy was with animals, he would have nothing to do with Farahi. The Prince tried every day to invite Cirris to follow him to his boat, or to the gym or even just to the entertainment room to watch a movie, but Cirris balked, expecting each time to be forced or punished. However, Farahi had no such ideas, and although disappointed by the constant rejection, he left Cirris without an unkind word. This again reinforcing that he meant the boy no harm. His efforts were remained fruitless, and he gave up any hope of getting through to Cirris.

When Farahi didn’t bother to invite him away anymore, Cirris watched the Prince leaving each time, bereft, for he was beginning to have some small amount of interest in the other man. Very little, but to the lonely Cirris, this budding fondness was something rare, something unusual. He had never met anyone like Farahi and he was curious.

However, he could not submit to even the smallest of the Prince’s wishes, although the empty place in his heart had him wishing to.

The problem was, he was sure that sooner or later--this he believed completely--that the true nature of why he was here would be revealed. It would be for the use of his body, of this there wasn't a doubt in his mind. The Prince would fuck him, as the man who had brought him here had said he would. Farahi would try and be gentle. He would attempt, in vain, to stimulate some carnal urge that Cirris would not feel, and he would not take it well that he could not force him to like it. Punishment would surely follow.

Cirris had dealt with men such as he before. Sooner or later, the man's patience would grow thin...

To his way of thinking, there could not be friendship in this manner. From all he knew of other people, it was not possible. So he befriended the animals, who were safe, who wanted nothing but food and love, who did not try to trap him or hurt him. Who had no hidden agendas.

And as he had known it would, the day arrived when his fears were realized.

However, it came from a totally unexpected direction. It was not the Prince who summoned him, but the Queen mother, Sophia.

Only by virtue of marriage, and in honor of tradition, was Sophia called Queen. Had Sophia been inclined, or shown the slightest bit of wisdom, she might have been respected by the people of Montag, and she could have been crowned after her husband's death. However, she was passed over in favor of her son by the parliament, a fact that she didn't really mind. Oh, it had stung her ego some when the decree was first handed down that he would rule as regent, but now she was simply glad not to have the responsibilities, nor have to attend those boring perfunctory affairs.

It had been almost four months since the slave had come to live with them. She was getting impatient waiting for her son to break Cirris in to his purpose. Whenever she tried to mention it to him he only shook his head and changed the subject.

Although Farahi didn't realize it, his mother had been the driving force behind his buying of Cirris in the first place. It was she who had kept up her reminding nags that as Prince it was only fitting that he surround himself with objects to please him. That included concubines, at least until he married. It was one of the perks of a monarchical society. It was expected of him, so much so that the lack of it might be noticed, even whispered about that he was not completely normal. Whether he chose males or females or both, didn’t matter.

It was tradition on Montag.

However, Sophia’s reasons were not as casual, nor as unselfish as they seemed. She badly wanted a sex slave for herself, but for a woman, even a Queen--or perhaps especially for a Queen--it was considered disgraceful. Unbefitting. A double standard Sophia was not prepared to live with.

She had finagled the purchased of Cirris, by manipulating her son, and now she meant to make use of him. She had waited long enough. Only she and her personal servant would know about what she had in mind. And of course, Cirris himself; however he didn’t really count, as he would never have access to any respectable company to tell his sordid tale to.

That is if he ever spoke; she had heard that he didn't. Which suited her fine.

Sophia planned to spend that night enjoying her new toy. She would try to beat her old record of six orgasms. But it was not so easy as that; Cirris was not as willing as she would have thought.

Her handmaiden brought the boy to her and he stood before her, unafraid, beginning to feel at home and expecting to be told to change clothes or clean up or help with the chores. Instead, the Queen dismissed her servant and began to undress.

“You know how to pleasure a woman, I presume?” she asked Cirris as she unfastened her bra. "You have been trained?"

The slave said nothing, but he looked perplexed.

“Look, my cute little toy, I want to ride your face until the sun comes up. Any objections?“ Sophia tried to explain with less subtly.

Annoyed when he still didn’t answer, she raised her voice and tried to order him to do her bidding, but he didn’t seem to understand, and in the end she had had no choice but to call for a guard, since, obviously, the boy was a moron.

In truth, Cirris was not stupid, he was simply inexperienced and scared. As he had matured, a few of the prostitutes at his former home, especially when they had had too many drinks, had on occasion grabbed him, pressed against him and attempted to coax him into having sex. However, none had ever forced him, and he had always made good his escape without any violence.

Sophia, however, was not to be denied. Angrily, she snatched up her phone.

The head of the mansion guards, a big, muscular man by the name of Diego, was called upon, and he arrived only minutes later. He actually grabbed the confused Cirris and tied him down on her bed, his arms outstretched and fettered to the headboard.

Cirris had not expected this and had allowed himself to be caught too easily.

Never had he overtly feared women, but he learned to be very scared of them during that one long night of sexual service. Sophia was insatiable, and since Cirris could not be aroused, it was his mouth that suffered the consequences. She exhausted him with the hours she forced him to orally pleasure her, and was harsh with him when he didn't perform perfectly to her satisfaction. Worse, he had a terrible fear of smothering which she paid no heed to, angering instead when he struggled.

It dawned on her that she could use this to her advantage. Sophia learned exactly how to get Cirris to obey her, to put effort into pleasing her.

For the most part, he lay there with his eyes closed and endured, as he always had with men, and in truth it wasn‘t much different.

When morning came and she released him, a very worn-out Cirris stumbled out of her room and dashed for his own room, but still didn’t feel safe. Out of the mansion he ran, to the woods where he remained for a couple of days in hiding, sore and frightened. It was hunger that drove him back inside, but his shaking had gotten worse again, and once more he remained on constant alert, giving everyone, including Farahi as wide a berth as possible.

The Prince just couldn’t comprehend why the boy’s behavior that regressed back to total distrust, and it saddened him, for he believed that Cirris must have been badly mistreated on Narto to continue to be so scared. He was beginning to think that this troubled slave would never be social to any degree, and should just be left alone, and another procured.

Maybe, with some luck, his mother would simply forget all about him needing a sexual outlet and he would not need to spend money on another. Twenty-five thousand dollars was no mere pittance, and had gained him nothing but problems. But then, he thought of poor Cirris. Maybe it was for the best that he was here, and safe.

* * *

It goes without saying how unsafe Cirris felt now. And fate was about to take another swipe at him. Things went from bad to worse.

It was a week later when Sophia requested him for a second night of love-making, and sent the same personal servant out to fetch him. The moment that Cirris saw the handmaiden approaching, he fled in terror.

The woman informed the Queen of the boy’s refusal to allow her to come within fifty feet of him; so Sophia called for the head of the guards again.

Diego considered himself bisexual, although he had watched the striking slave over the last few months with some envy. He watched Cirris more so than he eyed any of the island's females. He himself was a strong brute of a man, broad-shouldered and possessing large, powerful hands. Despite the thinning hair on his head, and the blanket of it that covered his chest, he was not unattractive, and his body builder’s physique caused quite a few second looks when he walked amongst the beach-goers without any shirt.

Sophia asked him to catch Cirris for her. Diego knew enough about Cirris to take several of the house servants with him to help catch him, and they cornered the boy, backing him to the beach and trapping him against the sea.

Seeing this and curious about what was going on, Farahi wandered over.

"What did he do? Why must you bail him up?" the Prince asked.

Diego, without looking over, answered, “Your mother has given this boy orders, which he chooses to ignore. She has told me to teach him some manners.”

“Go easy on him,” Farahi told his guard. “I don’t believe he can help it. He’s been traumatized in some fashion, I would bet on it.“

Diego just grunted, and went back to his task. He knew who ran the household, and it wasn’t the Prince.

Farahi remained there to watch, out of the way, leaning up to a tree.

Seven people surrounded the one young man and closed the circle slowly. Diego, once he was bodily close enough, made a pounce for Cirris, who evaded him with reflexes and agility that would have done a gazelle proud. Down into the sand the big guard fell, empty-handed, and he got to his feet spitting the grit out of his mouth. Three of the servants meanwhile threw themselves on the boy, then a fourth and a fifth. Finally, Cirris went down under them. Silent, no longer struggling.

Farahi whistled and grinned, then cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered over; “Maybe I should appoint him as head guard!”

Diego, who was not in the slightest amused, didn't even look at the Prince, he just brushed himself off and then took control of the trembling slave, who was gripped tight by at least twelve hands. Holding both of the slave's arms behind his back, resisting the urge to jerk and twist and hurt, not even using the rope slung over his shoulder while Farahi was watching, Diego headed off with all the composure he could muster, to deliver Cirris to Sophia.

But inside, he was fuming with anger.

* * *

Sophia joined Farahi in the living room the next afternoon.

"I want to speak with you, my son."

"Sit down, Mother. What's on your mind?"

"It's about that boy you bought. He needs training. Even Diego can barely handle him. He is sullen and disobedient, and I won't have it. He will not obey the simplest commands!”

“What sort of commands?” Farahi wondered.

“Er, ah, well, last week I asked him to go to pick me a fresh pineapple. He never came back,” Sopia said quickly. “Anyway, I told Diego to take him to his place and spend a month or two teaching him what he needs to know about proper service and obeying orders."

Prince Farahi sighed. "I had hoped that with time and kindness and freedom, he would come around and be part of the family. This training you speak of, it sounds like it might only harm him more."

"It's been months, son. That young man needs to know his place! I have waited for you to act on the matter, but since you won't, I have. How much more harmed could he be? He runs away, he hides, and he refuses to speak to anyone except cats."

"I suppose you have a point," acknowledged the Prince. "I thought for a while that he was beginning to trust me. But then he just started avoiding me again for no apparent reason. Fine, mother. We can try it your way. Are you sure Diego is up for the task? I don't wish for anyone to treat the boy cruelly. We could hire someone."

"Diego is perfect for this job. He's sensitive. He isn't a cruel man, and will not be any harsher than he needs to be. He keeps the guards in line, doesn't he, without even raising his voice? Besides, we don't need outsiders knowing about our problems."

"I suppose you‘re right again-- as usual."

"No worries, Far."

"Yes, Mother," said the Prince, but he was disquieted at the thought. He believed that Cirris had been through enough. But as he usually did, he gave in to his mother‘s wishes.

Often, during the weeks that Cirris was away, he thought of him and hoped that he was all right.

* * *

Diego, who had wanted to get his hands on Cirris in the worst way, did so with revenge in mind. Since taking him from Sophia's bedroom, he had dragged the boy to his house with rope wound about him and had then proceeded to beat him half-senseless. However, he was far from satisfied.

Next, he stripped the barely unconscious Cirris naked in silence.

He then closed handcuffs about the rope-burned wrists tight, too tight-- as further payment for making him look bad in front of the Prince. At the moment, Cirris could not feel it, but Diego knew that he would later.

While the slave was still out cold, he padlocked dog-tie chain to his ankles with less than a foot of give. Lastly, he tied a rope to the handcuffs. Then, he waited for Cirris to wake up. When the boy finally did, it was almost instant--one quick inspiration of air and his eyes popped wide open. His entire body tensed in preparation for whatever terror might be waiting.

Seeing Diego, he immediately began to scuttle his way to the wall, but Diego stepped in front of him.

“Don’t move!” he bellowed.

Cirris stopped moving and again looked at his hands. The guard found it amusing, as he watched, while Cirris checked on them carefully, pulling them and wincing, then rattling the chain on his ankles, looking it over from every angle, searching for a weakness.

"You are not getting loose," Diego finally said, and Cirris startled and looked up at him. "Now, we are at my place, just the two of us, where I will instruct you in what is proper and what is not for the next two months. Keep resisting, and it'll go hard on you, I promise."

Cirris didn't answer, just looked again at his hands, cuffed in front of him, already turning uncomfortably numb.

"You know, maybe a demonstration of what your life might end up like if you don't change that attitude is in order," Diego said, and got no response. He nodded. "Fine. Go ahead, play dumb with me, but I've spoken to a few people on Montag and I know that you can understand, and can even talk. You asked for this, boy."

Diego made a couple phone calls, even as he stood there over Cirris, glaring, with his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest.

He then looked down and said, "Like I told you, you are not getting loose. Not until you give your will over for training. You will speak to me. You will tell me that I am your master and that you wish to learn to serve the Prince and the Queen. 'Till then, your ass is mine, literally. I've got a few friends who will be dropping by later. Your ass is theirs, too. In fact, that cute little butt of yours is going to see more action than the slot machines where you used to live. You are, after all, a whore, bought and paid for. You can enjoy it, or you can fight it, either way you will be fucked. Being fucked is the reason you live here on Montag. Your body belongs to the royal family, and you will submit it for use as needed. Up to you entirely how much pain you will have to go through before you accept this."

Cirris made no sound, gave no answer. Diego, frustrated, roughly took hold of one arm and dragged him to the bed. Without ceremony, he threw Cirris down face first, straddled him and pulled his bound hands out from under him and up over his head.

Diego, lying atop the young slave’s back, proceeded to attach the rope to the headboard.

“I forgot to ask if you’ve had a cock up your ass before, boy. I hope so. For your sake.”

Cirris just closed his eyes, ready for whatever the man planned to do to him, because he had to. Having been fucked every single day for all of three years-- and dozens of times since-- he wasn’t exactly afraid of the pain. He hated it, though. The act itself; he had yet to learn to hate people. They were only what they were, and he accepted that.

Life was hard and people were selfish and merciless, and being fucked was simply the consequence of getting caught, of being tied and chained and confined. No one on Earth hated imprisonment more than Cirris did. But it also calmed him, for he would bear whatever was to come and try to remain clear-minded.

Sooner or later, maybe tomorrow, maybe not until next year, but someday, someone would get sloppy and forget to tie him proper and then he would escape. That was the day he would live for. No matter how long it took.

Shaking all over, he allowed himself to be jerked up onto his hands and knees, and he felt the cold sensation of some sort of oil being applied to his anus, and then the hard head of the guard's erection circling the area, seeking purchase and then driving straight into his body. Hard.

Cirris arched his back with pain, and gasped, but he didn’t scream. Too much noise had never been tolerated from him while he was being used, quietness had been beaten into him from time before memory.

Diego’s big hands clutched to the narrow waist and pulled as he thrust and rotated his hips until he had buried himself right to the hilt. It felt wonderful inside the slave's body, tight and hot and slick and he could not remain still more than a few seconds. He pulled out and pushed in, then began to slam himself against Cirris. His first orgasm came quickly, deep inside the boy he climaxed. Once his body relaxed, he let his breath out with appreciation.

“Best fuck ever,” he said, still moving slightly and getting hard again. “I’m ready for seconds.”

This time, he rested his head down on Cirris as his hips churned up and down, back and forth and his second orgasm wasn’t as explosively great as his first, but he had no complaints.

Diego had washed up and was fixing himself a sandwich when he heard the knock on the door.

Looking over at Cirris, he said, “Ah, the party is starting. You’re about to have a really, really long night! You’ll be raw by morning and maybe more cooperative. You ready to talk to me?”

Diego could see the boy trembling, the eyes wide on his, but he said nothing, not so much as a nod or shake of his head.

“Suit yourself, kid. Trust me, by the end of the night you'll be singing like a canary.”

Landon, the man at the door, was almost six and half feet tall with shaggy red hair and an unkempt auburn beard. He also weighed over three hundred pounds. Diego grinned when he saw him.

“Landon! C’mon in, big guy! Want a beer?”

Landon nodded while gazing lustfully over at Cirris chained to the bed.

“Oh man, that him? Nice-looking lay! My donger's already gettin' hard.”

Diego went to the refrigerator and returned with two beers, one of which he handed to his heavy-set friend. “Yeah, he's pretty all right. The Prince paid quite a bit of money for him to come here. You will be the first to fuck him! Well, except for me. I’m not sure how many are coming to join us tonight. Could be quite a few. That slave is getting broken in the hard way. You see, he‘s not convinced that he wants to have sex with the royal family, but for what he cost, he sure as hell is going to anyway.”

Landon snorted. “I’ll gladly help you convince him.”

Giving the huge man a pat on the back, he said, “He’s all yours. Do what you want to him, only don’t unchain him. He's a fucking escape artist.”

Landon, not taking his eyes off the beautiful whore shivering on the bed, gulped down his beer and then went straight forward, removing his clothes. Like Cirris, he said nothing, just climbed on the squeaky bed, sagging the springs as he took hold on the slave and pulled him down flat on his belly. Cirris tried to turn over, badly frightened by the man's size, but Landon held him easy and climbed in between his legs.

Positioned, eager and rock-hard ready, Landon let his erection sink into the boy with an ecstatic moan, and he closed his eyes and put his head back. A minute later, he was humping merrily away.

* * *

Diego reclined back in the chair, sipping his beer and watching out of the corner of his eye, the spectacle of his extra large friend sweating and grunting on the bed across the room. He himself still felt euphoric and half asleep, enjoying the rhythmic, if mismatched, lover's dance with its accompanying symphony.

Landon was so massive that his movements back and forth drew breathless wheezes and whimpers from the boy beneath him. The man’s stamina amazed Diego as the time went by, fifteen then twenty then thirty minutes without any let up or slowing down.

Occasionally, he saw Cirris struggle, trying to wedge his arm under them to lift himself off the sheets and get some air, but Landon each time just grabbed said offending limb and jerked it back away, placing his own arm on top to keep it there. Each time the slave tried this, Landon pressed his whole body down on the gasping slave for a few seconds in reprimand, while tightening his grip around Cirris’ shoulders and head.

It was a long, brutal rape. That’s how Diego saw it, despite the fact that he didn’t believe you could rape a slave. It was their job to get fucked. But not tortured this way, not for an hour with hardly a break in the slow pace, for that’s how long it took before Landon changed his strokes to fast and hard and then groaned long to announce the pinnacle of his pleasure.

When he got off the slave with a couple numbing slaps to his little ass, Landon laughed looking down at him, at his hectic, hypoxic color.

"Look at that, will you? I've turned your whore a pretty shade of purple," he called across the room to Diego. The guard laughed with him.

Cirris was exhausted beyond reason from the exertion of fighting to get air into his lungs. He was panicked as he tried to curl up against the headboard so the man couldn’t get on top of him again. That feeling of his ribs compressed, of desperation to breathe was one of his worst nightmares, half-remembered horrors from his long days and nights in a dark, backyard shed when he had been too young to have even attended school. When he had been so small that two grown men could easily overwhelm and suffocate him during their use of him.

Three more men arrived over the course of the evening to fuck the recalcitrant slave, then no more; not as many as Diego had hoped would show up. Not to mention that Cirris seemed to take it all in stride, making so very little noise no matter how hard he was fucked. As long as he could get air, he just lay there with his eyes closed, ignoring the pain, quiet and still.

By two in the morning, all four men were spent, and they had headed for home. Diego stood over the bed, his hands folded across his chest. Not only had Cirris not spoken, he had not opened his eyes for hours. Bruised and scratched and bleeding, his blond hair askew with dried sweat and his wrists red and raw around the cuffs, he lay nonetheless silent.

"You stubborn, foolish boy," Diego told him. "You think you've won something? Not hardly. I'm just starting to think of ways to break you."

Cirris didn't look up, didn't move. Diego had a barely controlled urge to slap him and keep slapping him until his annoyance faded.

However, he held back, and whispered, "Tomorrow, slave."

�@

* * *

It was mid-morning the next day. All of the breakable furniture had been lined up along the wall in Diego's living room.

Diego had removed the cuffs and the chains and he stood there before Cirris, who was now crouched in fight or flee stance. In one hand Diego held a baseball bat.

"You're a stubborn little shit, but you will submit to me, or I'll beat what passes for your brain in. This is it, boy, the end of my patience. You are going to get hurt. Sure that you don't want to spare yourself?

Cirris, his chest heaving, remained on guard, silent. Unlike the day before, he was not helplessly bound, and he would do his best to avoid another beating.

And so he surprised Diego by attacking him first.

Feigning to the right, Cirris raised his hand to strike, and the bigger man put his free arm up to block. Like lightening, Cirris ducked back and struck the man in the solar plexus, and then delivered the coup de grace-- an uppercut to the genitals. The baseball bat hit the floor.

Down to his knees Diego went, howling with pain and fury, while Cirris wasted no time grabbing up an old shirt thrown over the back of a chair and wrapping one forearm with it. He then self-defenestrated right through the pane of glass, protected arm leading the way.

Once outside on the lawn, he sprinted off, heading for the beach. He knew he was far from his home with Luthias and he had no clue how to get back there, but it was the only safe place he knew, and he had to think of some way.

He paced like a tiger in a cage, back and forth in the wet sand with the salty water lapping at his feet, gazing off into the distance where he knew the other island was. When he saw Diego approaching, he could think of nothing else to do, so he dove into the surf and began to swim toward Narto.

“You crazy, little fool,” Diego said under his breath. Then he ran for the piers a mile down the beach, his outrage now out of control.

* * *

Diego plucked Cirris out of the water, banging him against the side of the small boat, almost breaking his arm with the force he used. It hadn’t been easy to find the boy, who had managed to swim a mile off shore before Diego spotted him.

Quickly, he had wrapped rope and net about the wayward slave, then held him to the bottom of the small motorboat with one foot as he returned to the island.

It was embarrassing. On the boat dock, a few people questioned him, but he ignored them, hoping that the incident would not become gossip and find its way to the Prince.

After all, he was a trained guard with half a foot and eighty pounds on Cirris, and he had been beaten so easily and so fast that despite his anger, he also felt a tiny bit of admiration.

He couldn’t help it. But it would not stand in his way. He was going to break that boy’s will or every single bone in his body.

Never in his life had he faced a more challenging, or daunting task.

He was not discouraged.

Not yet.

* * *

�@

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Island Slave

No Escape

Age Verification Required