Nailed

Nailed

By Scarlet

 

Disclaimer: This is a fic featuring nonconsensual sex – that is, RAPE. There is bloodletting, oral, and anal sex in this story. There is violent sex between men. This is not a story for the faint of heart or the young. If you are under 18 and reading this story, you are violating the law, so GO. NOW. And as to the rest ou … u … I do not attempt to justify this story. It is wrong, evil, degrading, and I should probably have never written it. But if you e-mail me and tell me this is gross and I am going against all that is right and good with the world, I will agree and leave the story up. I don't particularly care.

 

Explanation: I suppose you could say this is a written as a filler to a world created by me and a friend. The situation is as follows: Kenji Yamamoto, a Necromancer, walks (stupidly) into a situation that ends with him subjected to … torture at the hands of a coven of vampires and their demonic master. In this world, magic is dictated by blood, so if one does not have much blood to go around,
one does not have much magic. Necromancy is a form of magic. One has to drink the blood of a vampire to become a vampire, which is why Kenji is not turned into a vampire by merely being bitten.

 

In his home life, Kenji lusts after Ken, a fellow member of the male half of the species, who is involved with Aya, a man who is halfway a ghost. Aya likes to screw Kenji in his spare time. Why? Apparently, Kenji is a good fuck. Being that Kenji is deprived and has no real willpower, he doesn't complain much.

 

And now you know what you need to know. Enjoy – if you're into this kind of thing.

 

* * *

 

What … was this place?

Everything felt fuzzed over, dry, and distant. What was this buzzing in the back of his head …?

The wall was that sick manila color, the color of builder's paint. He groaned and leaned back, and things came briefly into focus when his spine contacted the hard wood of the back of his chair. He melted into it, and the world faded again. Had he been drugged? He tried to remember what had happened, but the memories of how he had ended up in this off-white, stuffy room were just out of reach.

It was so dangerous here …

Ah, where were his allies!? His friends, the dead people … with his mind, he reached out to them, but they too danced on the edge of his consciousness, just beyond his mental grasp. He had the urge to cry, and he batted it off. In the end, he was always alone. Always …

No … no. He wasn't alone. He gasped for breath. There were enemies everywhere around him. So many of them! How many!? Where was his knife, his gun—his—

Something dark passed in front of him. He tried to focus on it, but it was gone before he could, and then everything was sharply snapped into place by a fist in his hair. He flinched from the pain; hairs separated from his head. "Ah—"

"Oh, it lives," hissed a voice above him. He looked up, and a pale face with dark eyes leered down at him. Vampire. It bared its teeth and lowered its head to his neck, inhaling. "Such a good s – s – so tasty." Something wet and slimy scraped itself over his skin like a caress. It wasn't a good feeling at all. He jerked his head away.

The fist in his hair jerked his head back viciously. "Don't fight it!" came the command, and then teeth knifed through his skin like paper, into his vein. For an instant it hurt; for an instant, he could barely breathe for the pain. And then the world softened and began to become fuzzy at the edges again. He felt as if his body were drying up from the inside out; his skin was shriveling. He wanted to pull the vampire off his neck, but his arms wouldn't move from where they crossed behind his back. They were bound? He didn't remember it happening …

He didn't remember a lot of thin

They were … taking … his friends …

His head lolled, his eyes shut, and he fell unconscious.

 

* * *

 

When Kenji woke up again, the first thing he was aware of was how his head was spinning. The next thing he was aware of was the dried blood on his throat and the pain in his bound, swollen wrists. The last thing he was aware of was the vaguest sense of vampires and werewolves completely surrounding him.

His brain pounded in his skull. Where was he, and how had he gotten here? He cracked his eyes open, but they wouldn't focus, and it hurt to much to force them. He shut them again.

He could sense the danger. Instinctively he reached out with his sense for the dead, grasping for any bodies or souls in the vicinity. For him, the 'vicinity' could be as much as a mile square, but now … now … he could barely sense the basement levels.

Kenji only had the vaguest idea of how many times he'd been bitten, but it had to have been a lot more than he could remember. He was weak from blood loss and now he couldn't even feel the dead …

He hadn't felt so alone for a decade. He forced the panic welling within him back down and tried to keep his breathing even. Someone would be watching him. It was probably already only a matter of time before someone realized he was awake
again.

But he was too late; fingers wrapped around his jaw. "You're awake." There was a pause. "Mm … so, Necromancer, are you?"

Kenji flinched at the voice and slowly, slowly openes eys eyes, forcing them to focus despite how much it hurt. He gazed at a pale face framed by wild purple hair and set with dark eyes. He had fangs; it was a vampire. Kenji lowered his gaze. "No," he rasped out. "I'm not a Necromancer."

"Liar." The fingers on his jaw tightened. "That is such bullshit. Nothing tastes that fucking good except Necromancer blood."

"And you'd know," Kenji breathed out. Maybe if he could fake fainting this vampire would leave him alone. He let his eyes fall shut and slumped in his chair again.

"No, bastard, no falling asleep this time," the vampire sneered, slapping him across the face; Kenji's eyes flew open again at the sting of it. The vampire gripped his face more tightly. "You're so pretty … like a little girl." He huffed hot acidic breath on Kenji's face as he leaned in close. "Pretty like a … a ghost. Got the same eyes," he sneered.

Kenji did not particularly like the direction this conversation was taking. "Stop it," he rasped.

"What, are you going to stop me?" the vampire shifted his grip again, lips brushing against Kenji's with each word. "How, stupid little Necromancer? You can't sic your army on us, can you? You'd have done it by now. You don't have enough blood to do it, do you?"

There was nothing he could say to that, so he said nothing.

The vampire crushed his mouth to Kenji's; he kissed the Necromancer as if trying to draw out his very soul, leaning in as Kenji pulled back until they were sprawled over the small wooden chair, Kenji leaning over the back of it and the vampire kneeling over him, forcing his head to arch back over the wood.

He said nothing more. There was nothing else to say.

If the vampire was afraid of waking someone else up, he gave no indication. He stepped back off the chair and dragged Kenji off after him, forcing him to the hardwood floor on his back. Kenji gasped for air, and suddenly terror coursed through his veins like a second wind; he arched his back and bucked upwards, fighting madly with his free legs and teeth, biting whatever strayed too close.

He saw stars when the vampire cracked his head against the ground the first time, blanked out for a moment the second time, and was rendered immobile the third. Everything shook and trembled, but it was not an earthquake; no, it was only his own vision that wobbled like that.
"So, you wanna fight, do you, Necromancer?" The vampire gasped for breath; his hair was hanging in his eyes. "You wanna fight something?" He was reaching down to himself; unoninoning his jeans, freeing something … that Kenji had not thought a vampire could still use.

Sharp nails scraped over his skin, shoving up his shirt; sharp nails raked down his stomach, and fingers undid his jeans and began to push them down.

Kenji came to life wildly, bucking again, crying out. "Stop, you bastard! S-stop!" His voice was hoarse and dry; the scream barely reached the walls of the room.

And those hands did, but only for an instant. The vampire scooted up over him, sneering, and his penis loomed dangerously close, large, and … hard …

"Shut the fuck up, Necromancer," he snarled, forcing Kenji's mouth open with a hand in his teeth, and shoving himself in until Kenji choked violently, gagging, out of breath.

It tasted terrible. Aya had tasted terrible, but this tasted worse, like bugs in his mouth, like … it was some sort of horrible invasion. Kenji could not imagine a penis ever tasting good. Whoever thought oral sex was romantic was deranged.

"Can't take it, can you?" the vampire sneered. He was sweating, blood coming from his pores, and it smelled bad. "And here I thought you were some sort of little pretty whore." He bounced on Kenji's mouth and Kenji felt tears in his eyes – a reaction to his gag reflex being violated again and again, the offending object remaining lodged in the back of his throat.

If he comes in my mouth I am going to die right here, he thought insanely.

But the vampire pulled out, apparently not finding his unwilling victim a satisfying blowjob. "Piece of shit." He shoved Kenji's head back down to the floor. "Stop wriggling like some fucking worm."

Kenji barely heard the words, gasping for breath; spots danced in front of his eyes.

He came to his senses when hands yanked his pants and boxers over his thighs, leaving his crotch and ass exposed. "Well … guess you are all man." The vampire's filthy hands closed on Kenji's balls and rubbed them, amused when his victim squirmed and arched his back.

Eye wide, head shoved to the floor, Kenji gasped for breath. "D-do-don't do this," he squeaked. Was that his voice, that pathetic sound!? He licked his lips and begged. "Please stop. Please, please …"

Something hard was coming in contact with his anus. "Oh, don't let me stop you begging, pretty little Necromancer," breathed the vampire, his body stretching over Kenji's , his stomach pressed against Kenji's limp member. The silk material of his clothes felt odd against Kenji's skin. "Since you can't seem to put your mouth to better use, you might as well scream." He reached down with one hand and lifted Kenji's leg, and with one swift movement, he stabbed into him.

Kenji arched his back and squeezed his eyes shut and screamed for all he was worth, praying, praying that somewhere there was someone who would come, who would hear this and want to end it. His rear end burned, and even the vampire looked pained for an instant, although he sneered anyway. "Tight. Did I take your virginity, kid?"

It felt as if he had. He was bigger than Aya, or so it seemed, as the vampire bucked further into him, reveling in Kes pas pain and the power trip he was receiving from it. His jeans were rough against Kenji's balls; the zipper scraped them. "Stop," Kenji sobbed – he did not know when he had begun crying in earnest. "Stop, please … stop! Aaugh!"

But the vampire did not listen; he stretched out over top of him again, and rammed up into him over and over, and dug his teeth into the vein of his neck, already violated countless times. He lowered his hand from Kenji's hair and held up his hips instead. But this time the world did not thankfully fade away; the pain was acute, and as if creating an electric loop, each thrust seemed to be only more excruciating as the vampire took his blood as well.

Minutes passed like hours, and then the vampire gasped needfully, and trembled, and something deep inside Kenji caught on fire, erupting with blossoming agony. And then the vampire collapsed over him, still embedded in his victim at both ends.

Kenji trembled like a leaf under him, shaking, his arms under his own body numbed but his hands clenched. It seemed like ages before the vampire dislodged first his teeth, then his phallus from Kenji's broken body, trailing the wetness of semen and faint traces of blood after himself. "Well," he said dryly, "not quite a piece of heaven, but it'll have to do." He sneered, zipping up his pants. "You're not a bad fuck for all that."

What he wanted to say was that the vampire probably didn't have any experience to compare this one to. What he wanted to say was that the vampire probably had to rape all his sexual partners. What he wanted to say was that the vampire would regret this when Kenji spent an hour carving his genitals off.

What he said was, "Fuck you," in a gasping voice.

The vampire smirked. "I’d let you, but I don't think you'd be able to satisfy me, Necromancer." He took Kenji's limp penis in his hand. "This thing is pathetic. You couldn't satisfy the smallest woman." He leaned over and kissed Kenji's cheek. "But then, you're probably gay, aren't you? Too pretty to make a woman happy. Little uke boy, I'll bet. You'll be taking it up the ass all your life."

Kenji flinched at the words he knew were true. Lusting after a man who had no interest in him, getting nailed by Aya only when it suited Aya … bastard though he was, the vampire was right. He hated himself for it.

The vampire pulled the boy's pants and boxers back up around his waist, and left them unbuttoned and unzipped, and lifted Kenji back onto the chair. Kenji's ass protested violently and he bit his tongue to keep from voicing the pain of it. "That's right, just sit back and take it." The vampire sneered at him. "Something this tasty … we won't let you go to waste." There was a pause, and the vampire began to leave the room. "I promise it."

 

* * *

 

And so it was that the next time there was an audience of vampires and a werewolf, an audience that sneered and kicked and laughed as the purple-haired vampire proudly fucked him again like he was some sort of difficult conquest – as if taking the Necromancer down had been all his own work, and a costly task. He held him by the hips and tore Kenji's pants all the way down to his ankles, and his shirt up as high as it would go; he pushed Kenji down on his stomach and penetrated him from behind, using saliva for a lubricant to ease the pain on his own phallus, not Kenji's anus.

They laughed at his sobbed pleas for them to stop. He expected no different, but still Kenji could not keep the cries for help from passing his lips desperately.

He fainted when the vampire finished with him.

 

* * *

 

When Kenji woke up some time later, he was still sprawled out on the ground, stickiness between his bared legs. He tried to get his legs under himself; the pain stabbed him, and tears pricked his eyes, and he gasped for breath raggedly. It hurt so much …

Again, he reached out for the souls of the dead, but he could not feel them. He didn't have enough blood … the potency was so reduced that he could barely focus enough to perceive them. Nothing dead was close enough to hear his call.

He couldn't help but feel the demon that came into the room, though.

Normally, the presence that poured into the room wouldn't have phased him. It was not shockingly potent nor terrifying; it was not even as strong as Ki's aura. Normally, he would have pulled out his magnum, his knife, and a lot of sarcasm and taken this demon down.

But now, mostly naked on the cold wooden floor, ass exposed and violated, drained of blood, hands bound behind him … he whimpered pathetically and shut his eyes, wishing himself back into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

"You're not fooling me, Necromancer," the demon breathed. His voice was even and deep. "I know you're awake."

Kenji lay still, cheek pressed to the floor. There was nothing to be said.

"I can smell how scared you are." Something scraped across the floor, and shoes appeared in Kenji's vision as the demon slid the wooden chair around in front of him, and took a seat there. "Your fear tastes good."

"You weren't here before," Kenji said hoarsely. It seemed to take all his effort to get out the words, and he deflated against the floor again.

"Thatruetrue. I'm told you were a good show, though, begging for mercy." The black shoes were planted wide apart; he was sitting with his knees spread. Kenji could almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Squirming against Hijiri. Crying." He paused. "They all think you're gay. Are they right?"

Kenji shook his head slightly. "What do you want?" he asked.

Fingers fisted in his hair and he was hauled upwards until Kenji's weight rested on his calves; Kenji grimaced and twisted in the iron gript fot found he could not escape. His shirt, shoved up into his armpits, tumbled halfway down to cover his chest.

"Me? I want your blood, boy." He pressed a finger to Kenji's neck; the still-fresh wounds broke open and trickled slightly. "You are … exquisitely powerful." He licked his lips.

Was the demon getting an erection from this?

The grip on his hair changed subtly, and before anything else could be said, Kenji's face was shoved into the demon's crotch. He couldn't help the panicked reaction he had; he jerked back against the demon's hand, adrenaline spiking his wearied
system. And the demon laughed. "Scared, Necromancer? Afraid I'm going to make you choke on me?" He yanked Kenji's head away long enough to undo the zipper on his black pants, and his erection sprang free. "If you bite me, boy, I will
castrate you." And with that, he shoved Kenji's head down on his penis.

Kenji choked violently, coughing and trying desperately to pull back off the demon's erection; the demon only tried harder to grind Kenji's nose into his pubic hair. The gag reflex kicked in and with it a panic reaction started when Kenji realized he couldn't breathe; he jerked his head back. The demon held him fast.

"That's it, boy. Take it." He bucked his hips into Kenji's throat; tears ran down Kenji's face, his face turning an unnatural shade of red. He squirmed with terror, rendered mute by the penis in his mouth, until –

The demon came violently, arching his back and trembling; Kenji's throat swallowed instinctively until the cock in his mouth softened and its owner pulled out of him. Kenji gasped for breath, quivering, coughing, completely unable to move, and done in by the adrenaline rush.

"God, you're good." The demon stood over him. "I've never had someone so terrified under me; I've never come so fast." He took another quaking breath.

Kenji curled up on the floor and threw up violently, retching the semen in his stomach and dry heaving afterwards. He could not move when a needle was shoved into his neck and blood was drawn out. "Such jailbait; pretty, but vulnerable." A hand patted his hair as if he was a pet. "And good with his mouth, too."

Kenji hiccupped and wished he could die.

"Ah, now, we can't have that." A pair of hands passed over his eyes. "I think it's time you went to sleep. Don't you, boy?"

Kenji didn't answer. He was already out cold.

 

* * *

 

He woke up to a dry fear in the pit of his stomach, a roiling terror that wouldn't settle. He whimpered and scooted away until he was pressed against the wall; there he quivered but did not move. He was scared. The fear wouldn't go away. The thing making him scared wouldn't go away. It wasn't in the same room, but it was close. He wedged himself into a corner and there he remained, inconsolable.

If something came for him, he did not remember it.

 

* * *

 

Things had gone back to being fuzzy. His whole body ached now, in places where aches were normal and in places where aches were not so normal. He felt irrational fear every time the purple-haired vampire looked in his direction, and lowered his head away from the demon that commanded them all.

He knew his memory had holes in it, but filling those holes was not something he was eager to do.

He had to escape.

And so he made an escape attempt.

It was clumsy and poorly executed; it did not end well. He couldn't remember the ending; it was fuzzed over and elipped out of his grasp like butter when he tried to think about it.

He was sure it was why his back ached and his shoulders burned.

 

* * *

 

And then he was laying on his stomach on the ground, outside, his pants around his waist where they were supposed to be.

How had he gotten here …?

Oh, right … he'd slaughtered them with an army of zombies, but managed to get himself tossed out the window just before his victory was complete.

That really didn't explain why his ass hurt so badly …

Maybe it was overall pain. Maybe he was overreacting. He wobbled to his feet and staggered when they did not support him right away.

Lauren … how was Lauren? How long had it been since he'd seen her … a week? More?

He had to see her …

And so he staggered home with a broken beat to his steps.

 

Fin?