The Prize Fighter

by DemiX

Author's Notes: The waitress refusing Rodney a drink, is my Mary-Sue. I don't own any characters mentioned. Panzer/Rysher do. Some of the conversation is taken verbatim from the show but most of the talk is from my imagination. Mr. Yellow, Black, Red and Brown are my own characters.

Beta: For Fan4Richie/AKA Ursula. Thanks for the speedy beta.

Rated: slash A

Pairing: Rodney Lange, Highland

Series: Companion story, Five Things That Never Happened to Rodney Lange.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My day was done. Finally. Two men were dead, and I could have cared less.

It all started, when I woke up one morning hung over and hurting from the previous night's bare-knuckled fights. The promoter of the illegal contest was a slimy man I know only as Mr.Coleman. He had set the fight up in payment for the extremely high gambling debts, that I owed to another shark who was even meaner than Coleman. Coleman had his finger in everyone's pie, including mine. When he saw an opportunity to own another person, he took it.

Coleman owned many people, including my sister; luckily she paid her way with the man by working virtually for free in his seedy pub, the "Dugout."

Last night, he had tossed me into a ring with a fighter who was clearly a heavy weight, while I, no tiny man, made middleweight only. I took one look at the guy and knew that I was going to lose, no matter how hard I fought. Of course, Coleman wanted me to lose, so he could keep me further in debt to him. The way it worked was...He tells me he has bet big on me to win, and, if I do, then he'll cut me lose from the indentured servitude in which I seemed doomed to always be. But he rigged the fight with the other fighter's trainer and set up an improbable no-win situation for me. Last night, as I stood in my corner wishing for a drink and hoping that my eyes didn't swell shut for 4 days again after this, I saw the other fighter eyeing me. I could tell that he felt it was beneath him to kick the shit out of a smaller guy, but he'll do it anyway...I guess someone owned him too.

To make a long story short, I lost the fight. Luckily, the fighter didn't do too much damage before knocking me out. I came away in round five of the battle unconscious with a bloody nose and two beautifully matched bruised cheekbones. At least my eyes were still open and not too purple.

After I came too, Coleman gave me fifty bucks for the effort and then told me that since I lost he had some errands for me to do for him tomorrow. He grinned at me like he knew something that I didn't - which he probably did. Anyway, his walking -missing- link sidekick, a goon named Wallace, told me to meet him in the morning at the club. Then they both left. And I took my fifty bucks, bought a bottle of good tequila and proceeded to drink most of it, alone, in my crummy two-room apartment, that Coleman rented for me. I know I drink too much, but how else am I going to forget the misery of my life? I can't do drugs like most people. I'm a fighter, granted a second rate one, but still I fight. Drugs would diminish my body too much in too short of time. I'm only twenty-five and as dismal as it may seem, I still have rely on my fairly healthy body to get by. Fighting is a tough way to make a living, but it's the only way I know how.

I spent the whole next day feeling miserable and sick. Coleman's right hand man led the way and I followed him as we went from one lowlife to another collecting money; debts owed to Coleman. Every time someone was way overdue, and could not pay, I was called in to kick the shit out of him, in order to encourage him to get some money together by the next visit or else. I did as I was told and my day ended with a tally of ten guys sporting broken noses, black eyes or in one case, cracked ribs. Missing link released me, finally for the day.

As soon as I got back to my place, I tried to wash off the grime of the day. My knuckles where stained with other men's blood. Touring through the empty kitchen told me that again, I'd spent too much on booze and not enough on food...again... So, I drank what little there was left of my good tequila and rounded out my dinner with a thick chunk of sharp cheese and a slice of plain, unbuttered bread. I couldn't really eat anyway; hurting people on command all day seemed to take away what little appetite I did have. I tossed on my battered jean jacket, and the only clean pair of jeans in the drawer, which were too tight. Locking up the apartment, I went to the dugout thinking that, if Iris, my 28 year old sister wasn't on shift yet, I'd be able to get another drink and put it on her tab.

I hated being broke and relying on my sister to take care of me. One day, I kept swearing to myself, I'd return the favour. At the bar, I walked down the stairs and as I passed a sign bearing the logo of a foreign brand of beer, I looked at myself in the mirror portion of it. I had not shaved and being dark haired, the dusk of a five o'clock shadow had just started to darken my face. I was bruised and battered so what matter did a couple of whiskers make anyway. Shrugging I grinned at my own reflection then homed in for the bar. I looked around and was pleased that I couldn't immediately spot Iris. Her coat was hanging on the hook, so I knew she was here. I decided to take advantage of the fact that she was busy elsewhere.

"Hey, Lani..." I shouted to the other waitress working. She turned and looked at me, giving me a large smile. The waitress was in her middle thirties and short. Not half bad looking for a woman ten pounds overweight and nine years my senior; if that was your type.

Her hair was dishwater blond hair and her eyes blue and the moment, she was flashing me a grin that said she found me attractive. Being unscrupulous, I played the flirt card.

"What'll you have?" Lani asked demurely.

"A shot of Southern Comfort and a pint to chase it with." I blinked my eyes at her and ran my tongue seductively over my lips. She made a face at me then, and clearly, whether she found me attractive or not, she was not going to give me a drink.

"I meant a non alcoholic beverage, Rod."

That old bitch, suddenly, under her scrutiny, I was magically turned into one of her bratty kids.

"One shot. One." I spread my hands wide. "What's the big deal?" One lousy shot?"

"Iris said no."

I gave the waitress another wide-eyed shit-eating smile and tried again.

"Oh, Iris says. Iris says no." I coughed twice and sniffed, "She's my sister you know. Not my mother."

"It's her tab. She said food was okay; but no booze."

"Okay. Can I have a beer then?" If she was going to treat me like one of her kids, then I thought I could at least act like one. So I gave her an 'I've been naughty' look after asking the question. I was close to breaking Lani down when Iris showed up.

"Rodney we talked about it, come on." Iris said.

She tapped me on the back of the head then walked away. I refused to look at her. I was pissed off and took the opportunity to sulk a bit, before growing tired of being ignored. As I was leaving, Coleman stopped me on the way out. He instructed me to take a few days to heal my face then to come to the bar around 8:00 on Friday night. As he spoke to me, Coleman raised his hand and ran his fingers provocatively down my stubbled cheek.

I mumbled that I would be there and tore my arm out of his grip. I heard him and his goon laughing after me as I stumbled away from them. My face felt numb where he had touched. The implications behind it were clear, and I did not like them. But I owed him. What could I do?

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

On Friday night I showed up on time as instructed. Wallace pointed up the stairs, indicating that that's where I should go. The second floor of the bar was off limits to the public. Coleman's office was up there along with three small, out of the way, bedrooms. A private bathroom, with a sink, toilet and shower, was also located upstairs. When I entered the upstairs, I saw that Coleman was seated comfortably near a private bar, smoking a very smelly cigar.

"You're on time. Good." Coleman said.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked him nervously.

He laughed at me then and after a pregnant pause in which he blew smoke rings, Coleman answered.

"Now you're going to find out what it's like to owe money. What it really means to do as you're told." The way he was looking at me made me nervous, and I wished for a drink, just one little drink. But I knew that that was not going to happen.

"Right now, Wallace is telling Iris that I own your markers. To spare you the humiliation, she'll do what ever I want her to. Which is to seduce Sully's contender, George." From out of the shadows stepped the man in question.

I looked over at him and grimaced. I didn't really know George or his trainer Sully very well. But I knew enough to recognize that Sully had a crush on my sister. He would not like George and Iris getting together. George, it seemed was oblivious to that fact.

"You can't do this. Iris is a nice girl. Name something else and I'll do it. Another bare knuckle bout, or some more strong arm tactics for Wallace...."

"Shut up Rodney." Coleman said calmly. "You and your sister will do as you're told. Now get out of here. Wait for me at the bar, I have something I want you to do later."

Reluctantly, I turned and went back down the stairs. I stopped Iris at the bottom and said, "Don't do this."

"It's okay." Iris reassured.

"No, it's not. You're doing it for me." I told her. I was genuinely sad, for her, for me, and the piss- poor spot into which I had backed. She stared at me dispassionately for a second, then turned, and ascended the stairs. I could do nothing now but wait.

A few minutes later, the little guy named Sully and his fighter George came tumbling down the narrow staircase.

Sully was like a banty rooster; tiny but tough. He was all over George, who obviously did not want to fight the little man back. Coleman and Wallace in the meantime strolled by the fight as the pub bouncers broke it up and they sat at a table in the back.

The smug look on Coleman's face pissed me off. Obviously he had set up the whole scenario with Iris. His intention was not in prostituting her out, but in provoking Sully into doing something foolish. And typical to a hotheaded Irishman, Sully reacted exactly the way Coleman expected him too. I was furious; he had no right to toy with people this way.

I went right up to Coleman, breaking up his chat with Wallace. I said, "You've gone too far this time." I shot a quick look at the missing link, just to make sure he wasn't going to take my head off for speaking my piece. Coleman moved over in the booth, indicating that I should sit next to him.

"Did you say something?" Coleman asked, his tone mocking.

"You. You can't use people like this."

"I can't?"

"No." I interjected quickly.

"Why? Because you're going to stop me?"

That bastard was tripping on the power he had over people, myself included. He dropped his hand to my lap and squeezed my genitals. I squirmed and tried to get up but Coleman cupped my basket fully and that held me in place. Wallace leered at me from across the table, like I should have known that this is how I would really have to pay my debts.

Using me for muscle was just an excuse.

"Come on Rodney." Coleman said, "Pretty man like you, you don't think I'd waste those good looks on a thug in the ring do ya?"

I stared hard at Coleman, braving his clutching fist. "What do you want?"

"Family like yours... you're all good looking.... Iris knows the score, now, so do you." He let go of my cock, and laughed. "There are a couple of men who have seen you fight. They want you to come to a party they're throwing...tonight, in their hotel room."

I didn't like the look on Coleman's face. It was too relaxed, like there was a catch. So I asked him. "What kind of party? What kind of men?"

"Very rich men who pay well for an evening with a handsome..." Coleman ran his fingers softly over my jaw as he spoke,"...rugged man. They want someone who wouldn't normally screw a guy." He ran his fingers through my short, greasy hair. "I know what you did when you were younger, Rod... I'm sure you can still remember how to suck a cock..."

Coleman was talking slowly, like he was picturing me on my knees swallowing down some old geezer's dick. He probably was.... and I was sure it was his cock I was sucking in his fantasy. "So I expect that you will remember what to do when the time comes." Well, partying with men for money wasn't something I hadn't done before. But I had to try to get out of it one more time. "Don't you think I'm a little old to be a whore...why don't you hire a street hooker for them?"

Coleman held my jaw tightly between his fingers and said sharply, "Because, I told you already...they want a man...not a boy...they're not frigging perverts you know."

"I don't want to be your party boy Coleman. I'll get in the ring for you; I'll beat up anyone you ask me too. But please..." I didn't want to beg, but my voice was whiny, I couldn't help it. I'd done enough whoring in my life; I'd thought that being in my twenties would have changed all that. I despised having to do it back then, still hated the very thought of it now.

"Rodney, face it. You're a beautiful man; those big green eyes of yours draw admirers to you. You're body, keeps them interested." Now I knew why Coleman had me partake in the bare-knuckle fight. I had been wearing a tight pair of warm up shorts, similar to bicycle shorts, and that was it. I may as well have been naked in that ring. Bastard, he had this set up for longer than I had assumed.

"Besides...Rod...If you don't do this, I'll send your sister instead. Some guys and your 100 pound sister...maybe I'll do that anyways...."

"NO!" I shouted jumping up. There was no way I wanted Iris alone with any men. Wallace leapt up when I did and grabbed me by the neck and forced me down so that my torso and cheek were pushed against the dirty tabletop. He had my left armed pinned against the middle of my back. I had to hand it to him, for such a big guy, he was quick. No wonder he was the only bodyguard that Coleman needed.

"Then you'll do as I say if you don't want Iris to go in your place. Now, there's a bag under the table. Take it to the bathroom and change into the clothes. Comb your hair. Wallace will drive you over to the hotel." Coleman leaned down, close and spoke directly to my face. "Do a good job, and after a few more parties, I'll consider you and Iris to have paid your debts. Don't embarrass me, Rodney..." He warned. "Wallace will come back for you after a couple of hours." He patted my ass and laughing, went back up the stairs.

Bastard, I thought. Threaten me by threatening Iris. He knew how to get me to play his game, his way. Wallace slowly let me up. I glared at him and he at me. Then I grabbed the plain brown paper bag by the jute handles and went into the men's room. I shucked my clothes quickly and put on the ones provided. I did up the plain, faded blue jeans; they were a bit too tight for me. They cupped my jewels and showed them off, rather than flattened them out. There was a frayed tear in the denim just below my right ass cheek, every time I moved I could feel a puff of cold air on the exposed bit of flesh.

Shaking my head at Coleman's lack of originality in clothing choices, I pulled the shirt out of the bag, and like the jeans, it was fairly simple cut. It was an indigo blue Lycra and cotton mix T-shirt that hugged my body. The material fit in such a way that rather than covering up my pec and abdomen muscles, it clung to them. The shirt was so snug that it looked like I had painted it on. Last was an ordinary jean jacket. I shrugged it on and then faced the mirror. I splashed warm water over my face, and studied it in the mirror for a few seconds. Both Iris and I had our father's eyes, much to my abusive mother's chagrin. The bruising was mostly gone around them now and a shadow of whiskers darkened my face. For a fighter I had gotten off easy. I'd had plenty of bloody noses in my time but never a broken one.

Remarkably, my nose was still straight. I did have many small scars around my eyes however, but I guess that's what Coleman meant when he called me rugged. The nicks were small and not that noticeable, unless you were looking for them. There was a comb in the pocket of the jacket, so I pulled it out and combed my hair, brushing my short bangs up so that they stood straight up, away from my forehead.

I looked good. Too good. I thought glumly. Sick of my own image, I turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom. I passed Iris on my way to Wallace and, after a quick double take; she grabbed me by the arm and stopped me.

"Where are you going...dressed like that." She said.

Obviously I looked like a whore. "To a party." I said dully. There was no need to explain what kind of party it was. She knew.

"Don't go Rodney. Don't. We'll think of something else."

"There's no other way." I said.

"Don't...."

I cut her off. "You want to go instead of me?" I asked her, my voice cold and distant. She hesitated for a second, like she was going to speak, but in the end she said nothing. Just looked at me sadly then let go of my arm and back away a few steps.

Of course she wouldn't want to go. Who the hell would?

"I'll be all right." I said, giving her a small, encouraging smile.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Wallace and I were standing at the door of penthouse suite number 3, waiting for the door to open to let us in. "How many other...guys...like me will be there?" I asked. On the drive to the posh hotel, neither one of us spoke to the other.

Smiling cruelly, Wallace replied, "Just you Rodney."

"What?" I said. "Me and four guys?" The way Coleman talked, there would be other whore's there to entertain the revellers.

The door opened then, and Wallace gave me a bit of a shove through it. "I'll be back in two hours." He said, reaching out to slam the door behind me. The man who had let me in was either in his late thirties or early forties, I couldn't be sure. He was blond and blue eyed, and thankfully, not that ugly. He pulled a key from his pocket and locked the deadbolt from the inside, then pocketed the key again.

"You're ours for the next couple'a hours." He said with a leer. I turned to and looked at the closed door, my exit to freedom, cut off from me now. I was trapped in the penthouse until they decided to let me out.

Blondie grabbed me by the back of the neck and guided me down the hall and into the living room of the suite. Three men, all around the same age as blondie, turned away from the wet bar and looked at me. None of the other three men were ugly, neither were they extremely good-looking. In fact, they were all rather ordinary. Bland was what came to mind.

Blondie pulled off my jacket.

"Rod. This is Mr. Black, Mr. Brown, Mr. Red and I'm Mr. Yellow." He pointed to each man as he said his 'name'. Obviously they had picked those monikers because of their hair colour. Mr. Black did in fact, have short black hair, and so on. Mr. Red gasped when my jacket had come off. I guess he approved of the shirt.

"Rod. the bod..." Commented Mr. Brown, whose hairline was receding slightly. Rod the bod...not very original, I'd heard that one before. Many times--too many.

Red turned back to the bar and poured me a drink. "Good." I thought to my self. I was going to need something to help me get through the evening. He fiddled around for a second, before facing me again, with a strange grin plastered on his face.

I had never felt this on display, even when fighting in a ring with nothing on but a pair of shorts. Red held the drink out, and I readily accepted it. I swallowed down the three ounces of good scotch in one swallow. I had no pride left. Red took the crystal tumbler back and filled it again. And again, I drank the contents up immediately. Six ounces of good booze would do for a start. At least it would take the edge off.

Red, Brown and Black sauntered over the large couch and sat themselves down. All three had their eyes on me. Yellow was standing behind me still. I ignored the seated men and looked around at my surroundings. The penthouse suite was huge, bigger than my crappy apartment by about 500 square feet. A four-poster, king-sized bed sat in a small well-lit alcove of the room. It rested on a raised dais that was about two feet in height. Spotlights in the ceiling shone at the end of the bed, I studied the bed, realizing that the sheets were made of blue satin. How totally tacky.

After a few minutes of looking around, I started to feel dizzy. Turning toward the couch, the three men seated suddenly multiplied into six.

"Shit." I muttered.

Those bastards had drugged me. Probably slipped something into my first shot of scotch. "What did you give me?" I said, slowly, turning toward Yellow. He gave me a merciless smile in answer to my question. And I knew right then, that this was not going to go as easy as I thought it would. All of a sudden, Yellow and his cohorts looked like predators.

"Don't worry Rod." Yellow said. He ran his fingers over my chest and raised my nipples. "It's only a couple of tabs of ecstasy."

I tried to pull away, determined to leave the room, not caring what I owed Coleman.

Yellow wrapped his fingers around my throat and squeezed. He moved so that he was standing behind me, giving the men on the couch a perfect sight line in which to watch me. I brought my hands up to try and break the grip, but between the weakness from the drugs and my lack of co-ordination, I could do nothing to stop him. I felt helpless.

Coleman probably told them that they would have to do something incapacitate me. Under normal circumstances, I could kick the shit out of each and every one of these men. Then again, perhaps they were simply four hyenas taking pleasure in tearing a part weaker prey. Maybe Coleman never told them a thing about me, knowing all along what these four degenerates liked.

Numb. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thanked god that Iris had not come here in my place. Yellow let up, and I gasped for air. He laughed harshly, "Don't worry Rod. You only have to let one of us fuck you. The rest you can blow."

Yellow reached around front of me and fondled my balls through the jean material while he kept the other hand on my throat. He spoke directly into my ear.

"We won't hurt you, too bad." The three on the couch chuckled at Yellow's comments. Even though I was trapped in a fog, I could focus enough to see their erections through their $2000 suit pants. Suddenly, I had to get out of there. I brought my elbow back into Yellow's stomach, pushing the air out of the snooty bastard and doubling him over. I pushed my hand into his pocket and came up with the key before the others could react. Surprise, for the moment, was on my side.

"Get him!" Yellow ordered, still in pain from my elbow digging into his guts. He was lucky, if I hadn't been drugged, I could have split his fucking spleen for him had I been so inclined. Which I was, I just didn't have the strength behind me at the moment.

I staggered to the door and actually managed to get the key into the lock before one of the cowards zapped me in the back of the shoulder with a low current tazer. I remember screaming, but that was it. I woke up a few minutes later with my shirt off, my jeans still on and my hands cuffed behind my back. I was wearing a thick choke chain, the kind used for training dogs, around my neck. Attached to it was a thick leather leash, which Yellow held the other end. I was laying face up on the blue satin sheets, which were strangely enough, cold.

"Fuck." I swore loudly.

I had really done it this time. I struggled to get up but Yellow yanked the leash and the silver chain choked the fight right out of me. As soon as I stopped struggling, he eased off of the tension and my air and colour came back to me.

I stared up at him with defiant eyes, glaring at the deviant as best as I could. Unfortunately, this only encouraged he and his partners in this crime.

"Fuck, Coleman was right! He's perfect." Black said from the other side of the bed, where he, Brown and Red stood watching Yellow mistreat me.

I swung my eyes over to the others and glared hard at them. Bastards got off on seeing me this way. Brown rubbed at his crotch while Red unzipped his pants. Presumably, Red was going to get his rocks off first.

"Sit up." Yellow instructed.

He yanked and pulled the chain taught, forcing me to do what he said. Brown settled himself comfortably on a chaise lounge, on the other side of the room. He sipped his rusty nail calmly, and watched the proceedings. Black perched himself in a black leather chair, not to far from where Brown was sitting, and worked on his drink. Red, nude from the waist down, sat on the end of the bed and waited for me.

"Get over here and suck me." Red commanded.

"I won the card draw." Yellow hissed into my left ear. "You'll blow them three and then I'm going to fuck you raw..."

Without warning, I jerked my head to the left and smashed into his cheekbone. Yellow bellowed in rage and punched me back, right in the face. The blow hurt, but, being used to getting hit in the face, I shook it off. The bruise from the impact was already starting to form; I could feel it. Pulling on the chain and leash violently, Yellow forced me off the bed like a naughty yellow lab who had snuck onto his masters feather duvet. Having no arms, I landed hard on the carpeted dais, grunting on impact. I glared up at my 'master' and started struggling to my feet.

"No." He said pushing me down. "Crawl, on your knees."

I obeyed his command, and as I silently swore to kill Coleman for putting me up here in this hotel room, I made my way to where Red sat on the bed. Yellow, stuck close, holding the leash, ready to control me if need be.

Red's cock was small, but fat. It was crimson red, very hard and jutted out proudly from his orange-fringed lap. His cock dripped with anticipation of what I was going to do for him. I told myself that this was something I could do.... To just close my mind and think about sparring in the ring instead. I knelt down in front of the first 'customer' of the night and searched his bright blue eyes, just to see if he held any sympathy for me at all.

He didn't. His look was predatory bordering on psychotic.

I bent my head, but before my mouth made contact with him, Red grabbed a handful of my hair. He yanked my head back, pulling on the roots of my hair painfully, "Do it right or I'll kick the shit out of you." He laughed and released me. Bastard, the only way he could beat me up was to have me drugged and cuffed. Which of course, I was. I took his threat seriously...

Now, I all I wanted to do was get through these for guys and get out of here. Wallace was coming back; he had said so. So I knew that though these cocksuckers could hurt me, bad, they couldn't at least, kill me. And getting gang-banged and beaten up was still better than being dead.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

The next half hour passed in a hazy blur. Thank goodness. I remember crawling on my knees and I remember how each and every one of those men's' cocks tasted in my mouth, but not much more. I also vaguely recalled puking after Brown forced me to swallow his spunk. But, after that, my head swam and I mercifully passed out. Between the ecstasy and the tazer, my body could take no more abuse.

When I came to again, I was back on the bed. I wasn't sure exactly how long I had been unconscious, but it wasn't that long. Red, Black and Brown were back on the couch, sitting shoulder to shoulder and sipping what looked like fresh drinks.

Yellow was the one who had revived me. He put down the cup that had held the ice water that he tossed in my face and smiled at me evilly as I fluttered my lids open. My jeans and underwear were long gone and I was no longer cuffed behind my back. I had been placed face down, on my belly.

Oh, I was still handcuffed, but now my arms were pulled up and held captive, the cuffs were threaded through the wrought iron headboard. I still wore the choke chain and the leash was tethered to the iron as well. The pillow below my face was replaced with a dry one. And as I lay there, trying to figure out what was going to happen to me next, Yellow slowly, removed his expensive shirt and pants.

"If you're going to fuck me, why am I still restrained?" I asked, knowing I couldn't change what was going to come next.

"Because, pretty man." Yellow caressed my cheek, then my bare back as he spoke, "It's the way I like things done."

I shifted my focus to just beyond his nude frame, and saw, to some relief, on the nightstand, a condom, some lubricant and a small bottle of coconut-scented oil. Yellow climbed onto my back and moved around so that he was settled right on the backs of my thighs. Reaching out, he plucked the bottle of oil off of the stand and then dripped some onto the small of my back. Then, he proceeded to give me a gentle, almost loving massage. I found this to be most puzzling, and at the time, I thought perhaps, despite the brutality he really wanted to make love to me, not just fuck me.

However, Yellow was very Jeckyll and Hyde-like. Right after the soothing massage, he leaned down and bit into my shoulder hard enough to break the skin and draw a good amount of blood. I hollered in protest, but he only laughed and slapped my ass cheek hard. When he leaned over for the condom I could feel his erection jabbing right at my ass. That was when I clued in to what he was really about.

Yellow needed the gentleness of soft caresses, of running his hands over my slick flesh to give him the hard-on, and then he needed the harsh slaps, the rough trade play to maintain the erection.

Yellow donned the rubber, and instead of using the lube or even the coconut oil, he scooped up some of the warm blood that was dripping from the bite on my shoulder and rubbed it over his cock. I looked back over my shoulder and watched as Yellow stared down at his red covered dick, mesmerized by the sight of my blood on his organ. I cast a quick glance at the three amigos on the couch. All of them sat forward, mouths open and breaths coming rapidly at the thought of watching their friend screw me.

Useless Pricks. They were nothing spectators in Yellows bizarre fantasy. No wonder they had to pay for sex. Two thick pillows were propped up under my belly, raising my ass up in the air; inviting Yellow even more I suppose. Strangely enough, I had remained fairly calm and absolutely silent after the biting incident. I'd been screwed before, a very long time ago. But I still remember what that felt like, so I knew what to expect. Yellow spanked my buttocks again, bringing up the redness. He drew some of the oil off of my back and smeared it at my opening. Then he parted my cheeks and slowly worked the head of his cock in. During that, I tensed up tight and he pushed on the bite mark threateningly with his thumb, silently telling me to 'loosen up' which I tried to do, but when you're restrained with an audience its hard to grow comfortable enough to relax.

Once I was ready, or rather he felt that I was ready; Yellow buried his cock inside me in one thrust. I yelled again, at the top of my lungs but that did not stop him from pushing in and out of me brutally. Eventually, the burning and ripping numbed enough for me to bear the reaming I was receiving and I quit fighting him. I tried not to incite his arousal further, so I simply lay there limp. But He was too far gone by then to notice what state I was in.

The peanut gallery cheered Yellow on by saying things like, "Fuck him hard..." and "...hurt him...make his ass bleed."

Well, I knew from the minimal preparation on my part that there would be blood, how much? I wouldn't know the answer to that question until he let me up.

Those vultures on the couch just wanted to see me subjugated, and Yellow had certainly done that. In a matter of hours with a little help from some drugs, I had been reduced to an object; a thing to be toyed with then disposed of, like unwanted trash.

I felt Yellow's sweat hit the back of my neck, and then came his hot breath in my ear. hispering so his friends couldn't hear he said, "I'll give you a thousand dollars if you meet me again. No restraints...no audience. Just you and me making love..."

I immediately shook my head no, afraid to answer him for fear of pissing him off again. If Yellow actually thought that I would fall for the just you and me bit he had another think coming. These men had found it necessary to drug me, tazer me and tie me up.... and there were four of them against one...Fuck, there would be no telling what Yellow would do alone...murder me even? Then again, perhaps he really did want to be alone with me. But a grand for a fuck or ten thousand it didn't matter. He was never going to find out because after I left here, I was going to kill Coleman, and then I'd never have to look at one of these diseased bastards again.

"Fine then!" Yellow hissed, punctuating his angry words with another deep thrust. "I'll leave you something to remember me by." While wildly jamming into me, Yellow yanked back my head by pulling my hair, the choke chain tightened, and I began to gasp for air. He covered my mouth with his own and stuck his tongue down deep. I tried to avoid his molesting tongue but could not, and suddenly I was beginning to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen.

Yellow, sensing this pulled away and bit the side of my mouth and part of my lower lip, at the same time. The bastard had broken my skin again. Getting a lip split, or bitten into, has got to be one of the most painful things ever, probably because the nerve endings are so close to the surface. Yellow hurt me by biting me there and hurt me bad.

His mouth smothered my screams. He resumed his previous position and then climaxed inside of me.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Finally, the sex was over and I barricaded myself in the posh bathroom by locking the door and pushing the chair that was in there underneath the gold coloured knob. I showered away the stink of the four men's cologne and rinsed as much of the aftertaste of their spunk from the lining of my mouth as I could.

I was battered and bruised and bleeding, but alive. And in the end, that's what mattered. The bruised cheekbone and the raw red ring around my neck would eventually heal, I could only hope the memories of the night would disappear with the marks. There was a knock on the door and one of the men, I didn't know who, announced that Wallace was waiting for me.

Finally, I could escape the nightmare.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

In the car, Wallace commented with a callous laugh that I looked 'well used.'

I ignored him and stared out my window; all the way back to the bar. Visions of the most painful ways for Coleman and Wallace to die, pirouetting around in my head.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

On to Five Things That Never Happened to Rodney

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