Lost in the Dark

*WARNING: This chapter contains nonconsensual sex between men. If you don't like it, I advise you not to read it.*

He'd woken up two weeks earlier and had recovered in record time. He knelt there, wrists tied firmly in front of him. He stared up at me, fighting to keep his eyes open, looking worse than he had when we'd first found him floating in the water. He twitched, blinking rapidly.

"I imagine you know why you're here in my office," I said, grinning. Mutie bastard, I'd make him suffer. Make him pay for what he'd done, for what he was. Mutants had ruined my life; that isn't something you forget easily. No one could ever know the pure and unadulterated terror of finding your wife dead in the garage because you were unable to give her a normal child. I approached Toynbee, suddenly realizing that I hadn't tasted flesh in twenty years. My wife and I had stopped making love after we'd discovered Jason's mutation; we were on the verge of divorce when she'd killed herself. "Answer me, you shit."

He shrugged, finally looking up at me with wide, sleep-deprived eyes. "I can only assume that you're going to do what you let all the others do," he said. His voice sounded thick and heavy. His cheeks bulged slightly, from swollen bruises and from small metal chips that had been sewn ithemthem. They prevented him from extending his tongue. That was probably his only asset, disgusting as it was. It was powerful, strong, and whip-like. The metal bits in his cheeks sent small electrical currents through his jaw every time he tried to extend the muscle.

I smiled at him. "I thought it was what you queers like," I taunted. He only stared up at me, refusing to respond. "You mean to tell me you aren't having a good time here? All the boys you could possibly want..." He glared, then looked away. I grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head up, forcing him to look me in the eye. "Answer me, you limey fag."

"Go to hell," he spat. I shoved him, knocking his head against my desk. He slumped against the ground, groaning as I shoved him onto his stomach. I kicked him, and he groaned again. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up onto his knees again. He was breathing heavily as I shoved his face against the floor, forcing him to use his face, neck, and shoulders to support his body weight.

I jerked his pants down, grinning at the bruises that spattered the backs of his thighs and ass. I wanted to add to them, to make him scream for mercy. I wanted to make him suffer, to reduce him to bitter tears. I entered him as roughly as I could. I felt no resistance, the others had broken him in, and he was still wet from whoever had had a turn with him earlier. I was harsh, brutal, and relentless, but I got no reaction. He was motionless, his mouth clamped shut. "Scream," I hissed, pushing harder, "scream for me you limey piece of shit."

He was silent. I finished, pulling away from him and tugging my pants back up. I felt hollow, unsatisfied. Toynbee got up slowly, clumsily pulling his own pants up. He turned to me, smirking. "You call that sodomy?" he asked, "I’ve had better from inanimate objects."

I was too angry to speak. I struck him, hitting him square in the jaw. His head snapped back, a few dime-sized droplets of blood hitting the floor. He was still grinning. I was about to lunge at him, to beat him to a bloody pulp, when there was a sharp knock at the door. I looked down at my watch, realizing that it was time for the teleporter’s training session. I left, allowing the men to drag Toynbee back to his cell. I didn’t care what they did with him. They could’ve killed him for all I cared.

I’d never felt so unfulfilled in my life. I was used to succeeding, especially in torturing mutants. I had just performed the most disgusting, dehumanizing act I could think of and Toynbee had laughed at me. The little shit.

I would’ve cut his balls off if he hadn’t escaped three days later.