“He looks sweet, don’t he?”
“Back off man, this little bitch is mine.”
“The hell you say! He’s on my block, he’s mine!”
“You’ll get your biscuit after I butter it punk!”
The sound of a fist hitting a cheek was a sound he knew very well, and it was what woke him finally as David opened his eyes, or thought he did. He woke to darkness, though he didn’t recall falling asleep. What in the hell had they done to him? Where were the others? He pushed his lips and tongue against the clothing wrap covering his mouth, trying to loosen it, only to find that it was secured in place somehow. Trying to move he found that he was tied down to the chair they’d sat him in as well, his arms, legs, and torso bound in such a way that he could barely wiggle, let along move that well.
David tensed as he could sense and smell the nearness of another person, the reek of cabbage and something that smelled like shit wafting over him as a disgusting, lecherous voice came pouring into his ear.
“Yeah, that’s right. You squirm little bitch. That’s how I like ’em, raw and wriggling. You’re gonna fit just fine on my pole you sweet little guppy.”
David’s breath was coming fast and hard as he felt his nostrils widening in response. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the hood, but he could feel rough, eager fingers grab both of his knees, squeezing hard as his heartbeat intensified. In the distance he could hear the first two men still fighting, the wet, packing sound of flesh and bone striking flesh as he felt his body begin to shake.
“Ooh yeah little boy,” the voice said as something he didn’t want to guess at brushed against his belly, “Shake for me.”
“What the hell is going on in here?!” roared a voice suddenly, “Get your asses off my block and back to your cells! Move it! Move it! Move it NOW!!”
David had never been so happy to hear a cop in his life, but he couldn’t help thinking that he’d be telling his parents all about this shit. By the time they were home he expected his folks to have filed one hell of a lawsuit against this place.
“Well what is this bullshit?!” the officer roared, stomping over to him with heavy, thundering strides. “Did you soil my chair little boy?!”
David groaned as he suddenly felt the wetness in his jeans. As if to make matters worse, he’d somehow pissed himself without knowing it. When was this going to end?
(to be continued)