Forgotten

Forgotten


A pounding head ache and a nagging sense of something not quite right tugged at his awareness. He ached all over, but he couldn’t feel his hands. Why was he so cold?

Before he could take further inventory cold water poured down him, shocking the breath and some of the sense right out of him. He shook his head trying to clear it of the fog and get his hair out of his eyes. He heard sharp foot falls and a hand in his hair jerked his head up. Blinding pain lanced through his head and everything went white for a moment.

“Well, Danny boy, so good of you to rejoin us.” The sneering voice was familiar, but he still couldn’t quite place it or the face thrust into his own.

He tried shaking his head again to clear it, but all that did was get his head slammed back into the bars behind him. His shoulders screamed with the strain of supporting his sagging body. He tried to move his arms, but they appeared to be bound behind him. Maybe that explained his numb hands. The water made his clothes cling to him and he was colder than ever now. His teeth began to chatter and he wasn’t entirely sure it was just from the chill.

What was going on here? Who was this guy? Why would he call him Danny? That wasn’t his name, was it? The shivering was making it hard to focus on anything.

“Now let’s see... Where were we?” The hand in his hair tightened its grip and wrenched him around so the other man could stare into his eyes. “Oh, yes… Just what did you hope to achieve here?”

He blinked, feeling stupid as his mind refused to contemplate the question. There was some other point that seemed to be more important. If only he could figure out what it was.

The blank look on his face must have convinced the other man that he had no idea what the answer to that or any other question was. With a grunt of disgust, his head was flung down, jarring him further and nearly causing him to bite his lip. He made another attempt to shake the hair out of his eyes and was finally able to get an unobstructed view.

He was in just his underwear and a t-shirt. A rather strange thing to be wearing in a situation like this he thought muzzily. No wonder he was so cold. The water dripping from him pooled on the concrete floor. The metal bars behind him bit into his back and arms painfully. All he could do was shiver while he tried to get his brain working. He would have to figure out just what was taking place here if he was going to get out of this.

"Hey, Chris! Just how hard did you hit him?" The man shouted angrily at someone he couldn't see.

He only vaguely registered the argument taking place at the other end of what he would have called a cell, if it hadn't been for the stacks of boxes with the fragile and this end up stencils on them. Some kind of secure storage? For some reason that possibility made a weird kind of sense to him. So far it was the only thing that made sense.

The shoes came back into view. He raised his head to get a better view of his tormentor. The guy was solid and dressed in a suit. The jacket had been removed and the tie was loosened, but otherwise he could have been any other stereotypical man in black. Right now he was rolling up his sleeves and that didn't bode well for getting out of here.

The man reached for him and he flinched away as fingers traced the side of his face and brushed the hair away from his eyes. "Tch... Now, Danny why would you do that?" But for some reason the guy didn't look upset at all. Instead he seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in the response that he had evoked.

"John, I'm going to go search his locker and his apartment," the other said. Chris?

John kept him pinned down with his stare as the other man walked over, opened the gate and pulled it closed with a clash behind him. Chris' footsteps faded off into the distance, leaving him alone with John.

"Now you're wondering just who you have been left alone with, aren't you?" The smile on his captor's face made his blood run cold. "Oh, Danny boy, let me show you the real me.”

He cringed as John pressed the side of his nail into the corner of his eye and drew it down to the corner of his mouth, pressing until he winced. John merely gave the same cold smile before drawing his hand down the front of the wet shirt and pinched the hardened nipples until he drew a grunt of discomfort and a pained expression. "See? If you had made that face more often, I probably would have treasured you more... Or not."

Was this really someone who knew him? Something about the name John just didn’t ring true. He couldn't remember ever having known anyone like this.

"What made you think that approaching me would get you whatever you came here for? You should have stuck to one of the techs you were pretending to be. It would have been a lot safer for you. We know how to protect our secrets from people like you," he continued in a conversational tone as John twisted the poor nub of flesh until he yelped.

Those hard fingers dug into his hair and wrenched his head up again. Teeth crashed into his lips in a punishing parody of a kiss that split his lip. When he attempted to resist the rough treatment, John bit his lip until it bled and he feared it would rip.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" he managed to mutter around his damaged lip. He had been afraid before, but now he was terrified. He didn't know what John wanted, but he could clearly see that the man would go to extreme lengths to get it.

"You really don't know?" The speculative look thrown his way lingered before becoming decisive. "It's true. You don't know. That's even better."

John smirked and reached down and grabbed his cock through the wet briefs, kneading it expertly. Even through his fear, he had to admit the man seemed to know his body. John knew just were and how to touch him to arouse him in spite of the situation. Could this man truly have been his lover? Surely he wouldn't have stayed with a man like this.

Hands reached behind him and he heard metal snick. His arms slid suddenly free of the bars and he fell to his knees in front of his captor. He saw the hand cuff still attached to one wrist. Deep grooves cut into both wrists and the rush of returning blood flow was so painful that his breath hissed between his teeth. It hurt too much to contemplate rubbing them.

He heard a zipper and looked up just in time to see an engorged cock thrust in his face. John grabbed his head and pulled him forward, grinding his cock into his face. "Got you were you belong." He tried to raise his hands and push away from John, but his arms wouldn't answer him. Wet sticky trails of precum covered his face, and the head of the man's cock pressed against his injured mouth. He thought about biting the man, but feared the burst of violence he had no doubt would ensue. He had no illusions about his ability to defend himself in his current condition.

“You know what I want and I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you do a bad job.” The threat with the undisguised undercurrent of violence made him go completely still. He felt like a bird mesmerized by a snake as he opened his mouth to do as he was ordered.

John pulled his head forward while simultaneously thrusting to the back of his throat, choking him and very nearly making him bite the man’s cock. John’s hands slid down around his throat and tightened. “I’d be careful, if I were you.” He growled out.

He began to gray out with that cock blocking his breathing and the hands tightening around his throat. When he started to slump to the floor, John pulled back and let him breath. His harsh gasps mixed with the cruel laughter spilling from John.

“Oh, yeah. I should have done this before.”

Before he caught his breath again, John was thrusting, burying himself to the root. He tried to time his breathing to the thrusts and not gag every time the head hit the back of his throat, but John was purposely throwing him off with sudden untimed thrusts. Just when he thought he might gray out again, John pulled back.

John stepped behind him and cuffed his hands again then pulled him up by his arm and pushed him face down over one of the crates. Fear tried to come but he was too exhausted by the rough treatment and too little air to do more than make a cry of protest and try to wriggle off the box. A hard hand between his shoulders kept him firmly in place as another pulled his briefs down to his knees. This time he couldn’t keep the sob from rising up in his throat.

“Yeah, baby, that’s what I like to hear.” The chuckle coming from the man behind him was so out of place that he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

He heard a foil packet tear and shuddered. The hand moved from his shoulders and spread his cheeks for the blunt head of the cock to press against his hole. No prep, no condom, just lube. John forced his way in with one hard push. He could no longer keep the sobs inside, but this only served to spur John on. John thrust hard and deep, obviously not caring how much damage he did.

John claimed to know him, but did he really know someone capable of treating him like this? He just tried to hang on through the brutal rape. He knew that he would always fear John now.

A lube slick hand reached under him and started stroking his flaccid cock. It appeared that John wanted to take away all his defenses as well. When even the techniques that usually had him writhing in seconds failed to get a response, John tilted his hips just right and rubbed over his gland. Against his will, pleasure began to coil through the pain and his cock throbbed to life.

“You’re going to cum when I want you to.” Teeth closed on his shoulder. He felt something slide down his back and feared that John had drawn blood yet again.

John kept nailing his gland until he felt his balls draw up and his cum pulsed out of him. John dropped his cock, dug his fingers into his hips and thrust hard and fast through his orgasm. Hot fluid filled him in long drawn out pulses. “Oh, fuck yeah!”

John pressed deep inside him and did not allow him to slump away until the last of the shudders wracking John’s body subsided. Then he pulled out abruptly and pushed him to the floor. He lay there with blood running down his thighs, on the cold concrete, his hands cuffed behind his back and his briefs around his knees. He lacked the energy to even try to cover his shame.

Returning footsteps echoed down the hallway. He despondently glanced to see that Chris had come back from his errand. John was calmly wiping himself off on his handkerchief before tucking himself back into his slacks. Chris looked away and as his eyes raked over the rest of the room the revulsion in them was unmistakable.

“There was nothing in his locker or apartment. I don’t know who he was working for. Were you able to get anything out of him?” Chris said with obvious distaste on his face.

“No, he doesn’t remember anything. Don’t know how long that will last.”

“What will we do with him?”

“Take him back to my place and put him in the guest room. Tomorrow I will have HR remove him from the database and we’ll remove any signs he ever existed. He’ll be forgotten.” John walked out of the room without a look back.