Shadows in Mind Ch. 05

Five: Tiny

Under City, Trandor- Sector Security reported a shooting near the 104th block of sector F067 of the Under City last night. Officials believe it was gang related, though witnesses are not talking. The victim, an unidentified female estimated to be in her early thirties, was shot in the chest with an energy weapon. The coroner reports death would have only taken moments, as the heart sustained extensive damage. This is just the most recent bout of violence in an area overwhelmed with crime and violence. Sector Security is asking that any witnesses step forward, and are asking for help identifying the body. They insist anonymity of witnesses will be their utmost concern. Please contact Officer Denver at the F067 Department of Security.

-Excerpt from the Trandor Post, June 3 1222 AF

Tripper turned away, squeezing his eyes shut tightly; but the scene before him followed, looping endlessly. A little blonde boy, walking down the dirty streets of the Sewer, hand in hand with an angel. A shortcut; an alley they had taken a hundred times before. Laughter. Threats. Menacing grins glaring down at him, red eyes glowing in the darkness. Blaster fire. A boy cries. Loss. He clutched at his head, shaking it futilely. Nothing could shatter the memories hold on him. Not here, not trapped in his own mind, with nothing to distract; nothing to help him turn away; no drugs to distort and destroy. His mind insisted he replay it, again and again. He was helpless to stop it. He cried out, shrieking, his voice broken and filled with terror, fear, loss, desperation.

A little blonde boy, walking down the dirty streets of the Sewer, hand in hand with an angel. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he felt his heart hitch in his chest, a pain worse than anything he had ever done to himself, worse than anyone at the estate had done, worse than anything anyone could do. A shortcut; an alley they had taken a hundred times before. No! Don't go there! He cried out, but his voice was lost in the dream, like a whisper in space. Laughter. Noooo! Threats. Menacing grins glaring down at him, red eyes glowing in the darkness. Leave us alone! Blaster fire. A boy cries. Loss. Please no. No more. Leave me be...

A little blonde boy, walking down the dirty-

(You can stop it.) A new voice. Unfamiliar. Soft, beautiful. Caring, concerned. Loving? (Only you can stop it.)

-streets of the Sewer, hand in hand with an angel. A shortcut; an alley-

(You never healed, when you were a boy. You never had the chance. Now, now that you remember, you must heal.)

"How?"

-they had taken a hundred times before. Laughter. Threats. Menacing grins-

(It was not your fault. You were never to blame.)

"Who are you?"

A face in the darkness. His mother's face; beautiful, her hair crowned with silver hair. No, not his mother, his angel. She moved forwards, into the light of his mind, and his mouth hung agape. An Angel. A real Angel. She smiled at him, her face so beautiful it caused a spike of ache in his heart. She was a creature of gentle grace, tall, naked, skin the color of honey. Full breasts and pert nipples, short silver curls obscuring her pelvis. And wings. Wings of silver and gold, delicate looking, fragile, stretching up above her and around her, like the wings of a butterfly. An Angel.

-glaring down at him, red eyes glowing in the darkness. Blaster Fire. A boys cries. Loss. A little blonde-

(It was not your fault,) the Angel repeated.

He looked away, unable to withstand her look of pity, the love radiating from her. Such a beautiful creature. He could not stand that she looked at him like that, it hurt him to know how wrong she was, it hurt him to know he would have to tell her. He wanted to never hurt her. "

It was my fault." He whispered. Tears like rivers, an ocean of regret and misery. A darkness on his heart and a shadow in his mind, a weight on his shoulders. "My fault," he sobbed. "My fault she's gone."

-boy, walking down the dirty streets of the Sewer, hand in hand-

(No. Not your fault, never your fault. You must forgive yourself, to be healed.)

"Never. Impossible. I will never forgive myself for what I did. Never!"

-with an angel. An angel. An angel. An angel.-

(I need you. I need you whole. Forgive yourself. Please. For me.)

-angelangelangelangel-

(Only you can help me. Only you can save me.)

He turned away. He could never do it. Whatever she wanted, this creature of beauty that tried to wrest his dreams away from him, tried to make him see something else, tried to love him, forgive him, this angel angel angel angel- No.

(Please. Only you-)

"No!" he screamed, and the dream shattered around him. The angels eyes, silver, followed him back, and he awoke with a cry, his throat hoarse and his cheeks wet. The room was dark and empty, lonely. He stared into the dark, tears making rivers down his face, and pushed the memory away.

Realty crashed in; Pip, and the fight in the showers. Victoria, and her threats. The cursed planet and every cursed thing on it. His balls ached, his stomach was painfully empty, and his head was pounding. The last scraps of his dream fled. He grimaced, and tried to make out his surroundings, but it was too dark; he tried to move, but found that he was restrained. He was stretched over some hard surface, bent forward at the waist. His wrists were stretched out and bound to either side. His feet, on the ground, were spread as far as he could bear; his ass was up in the air.

"Crap," he muttered. He had little doubt that whatever came next would not be enjoyable.

He waited in the dark a long time. His mind wandered. He thought of friends in the Sewer. It had not been the nicest place, but it had been home. Even amongst the dregs of society, he had known people of worth, people he had enjoyed to spend time with. He missed them; something he never would have thought.

He thought of escape. He was sure the border around the valley was the answer. Something about it drew him. Almost as if it wanted him to-

Sudden light flooded the room, interrupting his thoughts. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and everything gradually came into focus. He was a stage in some sort of amphitheater, facing hundreds of seats curving around him. As he watched, people filed in, filling the chairs. Slaves and Madams alike. All eyes were on him, and he swallowed; his throat was suddenly dry, hoarse.

From behind, a whisper; "We discussed it." Victoria's voice was filled with cruel amusement. "Sexual denial was not working. Pain seems to have little effect, one would almost think you were a masochist. Even your conditioning seems to have not taken hold as it should have. You remain defiant. Today we will try something else." Tripper practically heard the Mistress smile. "Humiliation."

Before him, the crowd was settling; he saw Cinnamon and met the man's gaze, before the other glanced away with a frown. He heard laughter from the audience, excited conversation. Many were pointing at him and smiling. He noticed some looking off to one side of the stage, and strained his neck trying to look; he just made out a giant monitor, displaying a clear shot of his ass from behind. Tripper groaned and flushed red.

Victoria stepped in front of him, and the noise of the audience stilled. He could now see the leather harness she wore around her waist, with a massive dildo hanging obscenely from her pelvis. "Crap," he muttered again. He watched as she squirted some lube into her hand and threw aside the container, and then rubbed the lube onto the dildo.

Without a word, Victoria moved behind him. He grunted as he felt the tip of the rubber cock prod at his asshole. He clenched, and closed his eyes in fear. He heard the audience laugh, and his face went crimson. There were too many people out there; he wondered if Victoria had invited others from around the valley just to witness his humiliation.

Slowly, she pushed it in; he tried to clamp down, to stop her, but it only hurt more. To the audience's amusement, he gasped as he felt the head of the cock force its way past his sphincter. She pushed, and the dildo slowly, inexorably sunk deeper into his ass. He tried to squirm, to move away, but the restraints wouldn't allow it. He grunted in pain as it went deeper, and he felt Victoria's hips against his rear. She leaner over him, bringing her lips near his ear. "I'm going to fuck you now, for the amusement of everyone here. And then... well, let's just say you will be here awhile. Oh, and you may cum; I want everyone here to see how much you love my big cock deep in your ass."

Victoria leaned back, and he felt the cock pulling out with her. She paused, with just the head still inside of him, and then slammed forward. She pounded on his ass, plunging the strap-on in as hard as she could manage, her pace unforgiving. He panted and groaned under her. The pain was bearable, a tightness and cramping pain in his ass. But the fact that everyone was watching... He felt his anger rise, even as he felt horribly shamed. He looked down at the ground and closed his eyes, clamping his jaw shut, refusing to cry out. His silence only seemed to infuriate her; her pace increased, her thrusts hammering into him.

Tripper had no idea how long she spent sodomizing him; but eventually, he felt a strange pressure in his gut, almost as if he had to pee. He growled in his throat, but still refused to cry out. He felt something dribbling from his cock, and knew the woman had made him cum. She laughed behind him, and the audience laughed with her. She pulled out, and the audience cheered. Tripper held his eyes tightly shut, and felt like crying.

When he felt another dildo press into his abused ass, he opened his eyes and glanced at the screen; Lucinda was pushing her dildo into him. Slowly, with long deep strokes, she began fucking him. He fought it, but the tears slipped out. The audience cheered at his misery.

***

He had lost track of how many women raped his ass, but it seemed as if they had finally stopped. His body ached. His hands and feet were numb in their bondage, and his ass felt as one would expect after being fucked by ten or twenty dildos. The crowd was cheering, some on their feet clapping. The lights dimmed around him, leaving only a spotlight on the stage directed on him; mercifully, it meant he could no longer see the audience.

Mistress Victoria's voice called out, amplified for the room; "And now for the main event. This lowly slave scum dared damage my property, nearly killing one of my favorites, and causing disfiguration that could be permanent. I had a request from another of my favorites, in regards to this cruel and horrible crime. I have decided to grant the request." She paused dramatically, and inwardly Tripper muttered, wondering what else they could possibly do to him. "Please let me introduce the brother of the victim of this heinous crime; Slave Tiny!"

The audience roared, and Tripper craned his neck to make out what was happening. Pip's twin stepped into the spotlight, caressing his swollen member; it was just as large as his brothers, bigger by several inches than any of the dildos he had taken. The man's face was twisted in hatred at what he had been done to his brother. He advanced with a menacing sneer, and Tripper let his head fall forward again, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He felt the head of the giant man's cock press against his ass, and he whimpered. "No, please," he whispered. His voice, amplified, echoed through the amphitheater, and the audience roared. The giant did not wait long; he slammed into him, and Tripper cried out in pain. Tiny did not hesitate, did not ease into it; he starting fucking him hard, grabbing Tripper from behind and around his neck, squeezing and crushing. His vision began to darken as he gasped for air, as the man ravaged his ass.

Before it was over, Tripper blacked out from the pain, and lack of oxygen. He was relieved of the experience of the giant man filling his ass with his cum.

***

This time, Tripper did not dream. When he awoke again, he whimpered in pain. The memories of what they had done to him filled his mind, and he shuddered. He was lying face down on his cot in his cell of a room, and he could feel wet stickiness between his legs, and dribbling out of his ass. Slowly, he rolled off the bed, and lurched to the door.

He made his way down the hallway, and stumbled into the showers, which were thankfully empty. Twenty minutes later he emerged, feeling a bit better, though still very sore, tired and hungry. Cinnamon was waiting in the hall with a resolution for one of those.

"Hungry?" He asked simply. Tripper nodded. "Let's get some breakfast. We have some time before you have to report to Madam Jade."

Tripper groaned, but followed the other slave without a word. He was not looking forward to another session with another sadist psycho bitch. He needed to find a way out fast; after the treatment the day before, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Already, he felt like it would be easier to just do as he was told, to avoid more punishment. It felt as if his will was slowly being smothered, and he wasn't happy about it.

"How long have I been here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cinnamon glanced at him, concern showing him his face. "You arrived on Eightday night. It's Tuesday morning now. So just over two days."

Tripper rubbed his temple and groaned. It seemed like a lot longer. He definitely had to get out of there.

They entered a large cafeteria; Cinnamon led him to a buffet style line. Along the way, Tripper saw slaves looking at him and laughing, whispering to their friends and pointing. He blushed a bright red, and looked away.

He helped himself to a plate of scrambled eggs, some vegetables and a couple slices of bacon. His stomach rumbled loudly as they made their way to the tables, and sat down on a long bench. He dived in, ignoring everything else as he at last filled his stomach again.

When he finished, he felt better. He glanced at Cinnamon; the slave was smiling in his direction.

"What?"

"You feel better," Cinnamon explained. "I think you needed that."

"What I need is to get out of here. Fast."

"That's not going to happen," Cinnamon looked at him with pity. "You won't ever be allowed to leave. I've told you this before. As long as you fight it, they will make you suffer. If you don't break and submit to them, they will eventually kill you. I've seen it happen. Mistress would rather not waste a resource in that way, and it doesn't happen often, but she will never let you go. My friend, just accept it. Submit to her, do everything she asks, and all the suffering will go away. You can be happy here; I am."

Tripper shook his head. The rage he felt as they violated him was still there. "No. I will not submit to this. I am free. And I am going to get away from this place. And then I'm going to burn it to the fucking ground." He stood, stepping over the bench, and strolled towards the door.

Cinnamon rushed after, a look of shock on his face. "You swore!" he gasped when he caught up. "How did you do that?"

Tripper had not even noticed. He smiled. "See? I can find a way out of anything."

"How?" Cinnamon demanded. "That's impossible!"

"Fucked if I know," Tripper laughed. He waited for the pain, but nothing happened. He laughed again. They had almost beaten him; he knew he had been close. Despite his words, he could not have taken much more. Surrender would be easier, he knew it. But he could swear again. Such a minor victory... But he felt hope again. If he could find a way around that, he could find a way out.

Cinnamon took the lead, and Tripper let him; he knew they were headed for his next session, but he smiled at the thought. He felt a plan forming in his mind. "When I get out of here," he asked, his smile not wavering. "You're welcome to come with me, hey. You don't have to be a slave."

Cinnamon stumbled a bit as they walked. He glanced at Tripper, his expression unreadable. "You really think you are going to get out of here?" Tripper nodded. "I've never known another life. This is my home."

"You didn't answer my question," Tripper observed.

"And I don't need to you. There is no escape."

"Cin, when I figure my way out of this shit hole, hey, I promise I'll ask you again. You think 'bout that, and be ready to pack your shit and fly."

They continued on in silence, eventually arriving at a door. Cinnamon knocked, and they waited for the door to open. Before it did, Tripper lowered his eyes and wiped the grin from his face. Cinnamon, sensing something, glanced at him sharply with a frown, before leaving him to his fate.