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Original Fiction
BABEL

I woke up and I knew I was still in trouble. My arms from wrists and my legs from ankles ached shockingly, as if there were red-hot rods going through my bones and muscles. Another flow of fire was my spine.

It seemed I pissed myself while dozing - I didn't feel the urge now and the smell was there. Well, I didn't dirty my legs - not in this position, hanging on four chains attached to the ceiling. I was not spread-eagled, actually, though my limbs were pulled apart widely, granting access to any of my private places.

There was something poked into my ass; it hurt enormously. Another accord to the cacophony of pains.

I heard his steps when he was on the stairs. Then the key clicked in the lock and - with the door ajar - he came in a blaze. I screwed up my eyes shut for long seconds before I could look at the girandole in his hand. Yellow light was dancing on his stone-beautiful face and his eyes, long and narrow, were gleaming.

He stopped between my parted legs and scrubbed with his fingernails the seared flesh on my foot. I jerked swinging on the chains and gave him a cry.

"Good," he said tilting his head awry. "Make it loud. Please me!"

I watched him warily - the candles mostly - but he didn't seem to use them now. He put them on the small table and returned to me.

"Well," he said, "how is your ass? Is it ready for me now?"

He yanked the hilt of the whip out of my hole. A hot wave of pain rose to my chest - and a hot stream of blood ran down on my skin.

"Ready for another day of fun?" his low voice was void of emotion - while he approached the top of my body. These words. He didn't invent them. He just repeated.

He took my forearm in his palms and, raising me a little, rubbed my raw hand against the cuff. I felt like fainting. The cuffs were a little too loose for my wrists - they stopped where my hands started and cut there ferociously.

Now he was behind me. I felt his grip of my hair, him pulling my head back. I saw his turned upside-down figure in front of my eyes. My face was on the level of his crotch.

"Want to suck my dick?" he said tonelessly pressing the bulge of his pants to my mouth.

* * *

For the first time I saw him at The Kite inn, sitting alone at the table. Three or four empty glasses bunched already in front of him and one more he was raising to his lips now. He was young, about twenty-four, maybe; a tall reedy man and the loveliest one I've ever seen. His dark-brown hair was shoulder-blade-long and the collar of his laced shirt was open showing his smooth hairless chest.

He looked lost, deeply wounded mentally. Later I found out he mourned his brother who got killed in a stupid quarrel between two rich Southern planters. He was rich, too.

I winked to the inn-keeper. He didn't try to prevent me. He was paid - and paid well for being cooperative.

I shook my head letting my hair down freely before I came up to him. His eyes were glazed - he didn't want to see me until I touched his elbow.

"Monsieur," my voice was tiny, almost a whisper. "Are you lonely, monsieur?"

It seemed he needed time to realize what he saw. Then his mouth softened.

"Pretty girl," he spoke in an uncertain drawl, part due to his drunkenness, part to his French accent. "Pretty whorish girl visiting me."

"I am," I said leaning to his arm, with my fingers fondling him through the shirt.

"Pretty whore, pretty slut," he chanted. "Do you want a drink?"

"If it pleases you," I whispered. He ordered me wine. I sipped a little of it - I needed my head clear. He glanced at me when I put the glass away.

"Pretty wet lips," he said reaching for my lips with his finger. I took it into my mouth, sucking and biting it gently. He stroked my cheek with his other fingers - tender but detached.

I let his finger go and slid face down between his thighs. My hot breath caressed his cock through the material.

"Oh," he said - half-gasp, half-laughter. "You are quick, honey."

"I want to suck your dick," I whispered into his crotch.

His hand reached to unbutton the pants. I pushed it aside gently.

"Not here. Let's go."

His long thin arm enwrapped me. I heard the chink of two golden coins dropped on the table. We stood up. He was so much taller than me - my head only reached his chest. He chuckled absent-mindedly and held me tight.

I supported him. Twice we both were close to falling down, due to his drunken staggering. But when we were out-of-doors, he became better.

"Dolly," he said, "what is your name?"

"Babel," I said. He giggled, startled.

"Babel! What a weird name your parents gave to you!"

"They didn't give it to me," I said.

In the docks we stopped behind the barrack, where the breath of water was not so sharp. He raised me on my tip-toes taking my lips into his mouth. His hand reached to my chest under the scarf.

I hastily glided down on my knees. His cock was pressed painfully to the cloth of his pants. I released it - dark-pink, beautifully shaped 8-incher oozing pre-cum like small pearls. It went through my mouth right into my throat.

"Mon Dieu," he breathed out, with his voice almost a moan. "Yes, yes, don't stop, do it, do it!"

I did it. My lips were round and wet and tight and I slid up and down on his itching shaft, with every movement banging my forehead against the cloth of his pants and feeling his balls pressing to my chin.

His bony fingers massaged my head plaited in my hair - not really pulling me closer - I didn't need it - but because he probably liked the sensation. He was concentrated on his cumming. I felt he was close. And when his hips moved forward suddenly and urgently, I held my breath and let him in to my throat the farthest.

I began to breathe again when his cock became limp. He became limp himself - laughing under his breath, lazy, languid. My mouth was polishing his soft prick.

And then the voice of my big brother said:

"You've fucked my bitch."

I felt his huge smelly presence behind myself in the darkness. For a short moment the palm of my client lay on my shoulder in a kind of protective gesture.

Then another of my big brothers stepped out.

"Get away," he pushed me aside. I saw my man, big-eyed, arranging his clothes hurriedly. He darted quick glances from Hector to Castor.

"Look," his voice was amiable; that is, he made it sound amiably. "I am going to pay. Do you think I'll leave that sweet girl without payment?"

Hector laughed.

"We don't need no money. We are not pimps."

"What do you need, then?" now his voice was sharp.

"You," Castor said.

He looked from one of them to the other again. I wouldn't say he understood. He understood only that he was in trouble. His hand slid fleetly to the gun on his belt. There was no gun. For a moment he couldn't believe it - and then he looked at me with realization.

"Merde," his lips verbalized. And then Pollux approached him from behind and brought his heavy fist onto his temple.

He collapsed. Hector whistled and I heard soft neighing and tip-top of our horses. They threw him across the saddle of Hector's stallion and mounted themselves.

"Babel," Pollux called me, tapping the croup of his horse. I jumped up there and braced my arms around his chest.

* * *

The first thing I did when we got to the place was to change my clothes. Now, in pants, with my hair in tail and without streaks of coal on my lids I didn't look girlish at all. I went to my big brothers.

They didn't have their time wasted. The man was stripped naked and tied with his hands above his head. His ankles, however, still were not fixed - and he kicked desperately trying to reach any of my big brothers.

He was sober and fully conscious - only a little blood in his hair, nothing bad. The expression of his eyes was furious. But under all this fury I couldn't help seeing the terror that must have seized his heart.

He slid his glance by me, obviously not recognizing. He cursed. He threatened.

"What do you want from me? You white rubbish! How dared you to take my clothes?! Let me go or I swear you'll end up on the gallows!"

It was only Pollux who replied him occasionally.

"We don't get to the gallows, you fool. Because nobody will know."

I came up to the man, carefully, so that he couldn't reach me with his kick, and bent over him. I still was an unfamiliar boy for him. I took both my hands full of his soft sleek hair and drew my face closer to his.

"What is your name, dolly?" I asked in my hasty sing-sang whisper.

That was when he understood. His mouth worked for a moment - and then he spat in my face.

"Stay back," Hector ordered to me. "It's our turn to have fun."

I sat down on the window-sill wiping my face with the sleeve. I watched Hector and Castor approaching him. They caught his ankles and pulled them up spreading widely. There were loops attached on the level of his head - and they put his feet through them. He grunted - a suppressed moan. He stopped babbling. Now his eyes were very big and very startled - it seemed he couldn't believe his body was forced to take this position.

I knew what he felt. He was practically doubled - an inconvenient pose even if you are used to be flexible - and almost unbearable for the first time. My big brothers knew what they wanted. His ass, his cock and balls, his tiny flat tits, his face - nothing was out of their reach.

I saw Hector started moving his hands along his body. The foreplay. I felt sick in stomach. I knew it all so well. In a moment he would stroke his belly, play with hair of his bush, squeeze his balls in the palm.

I jumped down and moved closer. I felt shaky - but my 6-inch boner throbbed achingly in my pants - and I let it go. It was so good to sense my hand on it.

Hector was at the exposed hole of the man. His ass-cheeks were spread widely - and though he tried to get them together, it was hopeless. His hole was pink and tiny and very clean. It's so small, I thought, Hector won't be able to get into it. But he would, I knew, he would.

One of his hands played with the balls of the man - small balls now, pulled up into his belly. His other hand was unbuttoning his pants.

The man tried to see what was happening. His head was raised painfully, a frown between his brows. He didn't speak any more - either shocked or terrorized. Then Castor grabbed his hair and made him lie flat. I knew what for. He stepped behind him and leant down, putting his mouth on the mouth of the man.

For a moment he thrashed, disgusted. And then he felt Castor's teeth on his lips. My insides made somersault when I noticed how Castor's mouth started working sucking blood from his lips.

"Mnnn!" the man made some noise. His breath was short, almost gasps. It seemed, for a while he forgot about Hector approaching his ass.

Hector had his dark stiffened prick ready for invasion. I looked at it with a kind of fainting feeling. I knew it so well, every inch of it, every vein. And still, when he put it to the tiny hole of the man, I felt ready to erupt.

Now he recalled about Hector. He flinched - not of pain but of fright. Then Hector drove his dick in and the man shrieked.

A sharp, shrilling cry broken on half and muffled by Castor's mouth. I clenched my teeth and felt the jet of cum hitting my palm. White and slippery, it dripped on the floor from my hand and from the head of my cock.

I heard Pollux laughing.

"Babel likes it better than we do," he said.

Hector wanted to shove his dick in to the end - but, evidently, the grip was too tight. So, he was half in. When he started pulling out, the man puked. I saw Castor withdrawing hastily.

"Filthy pig!" he hissed through his blood-smeared teeth.

Both Pollux and Hector laughed.

The man had his eyes wide open. His chest was trembling - as if something was fluttering inside it. He breathed in and breathed in - and didn't breathe out. Pollux slapped him to relax - or he could pass out.

Hector thrust into him again, now until his balls hit the man's crack.

I had another hard-on ready for me. My hand on my cock moved in the same rhythm as Hector's cock moved inside the man.

Castor didn't try any more to kiss. Instead he took out his cock and, sticking it into the man's soft hair, started jerking off. It was Pollux who looked like one to many. So, he got the held of the man's tiny nipples and tweaked them.

Hector reached his usual speed in no time at all. There was no ass or cunt so tight he couldn't split open in a minute. Now he pumped the man so swiftly that his hips almost blurred. There was no way the man could breath in cadence with this frantic ride - so, he panted unevenly, giving a soft sob form time to time. His eyes were wild, unfocusing.

I cummed at the same moment with Hector. Castor cummed a little before, flooding the hair of the man with his jism. We all three gasped. Then Hector withdrew his limp cock from the hole and came up to the man's face.

He was too smart to give it him to the mouth to clean. The man will suck them, of course, in time - but not yet. He used the hair to wipe his dick.

Now there was a moment when nobody tormented the man. He quivered agonizingly, struggling with his own sobs. Then he saw Pollux taking position at his battered hole.

"No, please..." he stopped abruptly. There was no way they would obey him - and he knew it.

While Pollux was fucking him, Hector took a candle and brought it to the arm of the man. He moved the little flame along the inside of his upper arm. The man jerked greatly, trying not to groan.

"It feels so good," Pollux uttered.

"I know it's good," Hector said.

By the moment Pollux had his cum, Castor was hard once more. The man sucked air desperately, helpless against one more cock going into his torn opening. They gave him two other sources of pain, with Pollux torturing his swollen nipples and Hector slowly palming his balls. Sometimes he screamed inarticulately. His screams were what aroused me the most. When he started screaming I got my hard-on again.

My cock was dark-red and rubbed sore because of all my beating-off. I dropped on my knees - I was too exhausted to stand. My big brothers laughed at me a little.

With Castor done, they decided for a rest. I heard them planning to have late supper when they were leaving the room. Pollux called me to follow.

"The bitch is going to have her fun," Hector said.

When the door was shut after them, I stood up.

They didn't untie him. I walked around. Now, with nobody in the room except me, he didn't look so much destroyed. He still was gasping, clearly unable to regulate his breath - but his eyes were normal. And full of hatred.

"Pig," I hummed coming up to his exhibited ass. "Filthy pig shitted himself."

Now his hole had nothing similar with that tiny pinkish spot. It gaped insolently, turned inside out, wet and glistening with all the liquids mixed inside it. I knew I could drive my stiff rod into it - and it would be sloppy loose - but he would feel pain - the pain I didn't ever feel any more.

I didn't do it. What I did was to shove my two fingers in it. He winced greatly. I pulled them out, covered in blood, mucus and sperm of my big brothers. I licked my fingers.

He watched me warily and disgustedly. I was close to his face now. My hand danced on my cock.

"I'll kill you, damned kid," he said in a low voice but intently. "I'll kill every one of you."

"Speak, pig," I said, jerking my cock over his face, "you'll have some of it into your mouth."

He didn't get it into his mouth when I cummed. There was very little of my spunk and he got it on his face.

We held him for four days.

It was seven months ago.

* * *

"Beg me," he said rubbing his cloth-covered cock against my lips. "Beg me for forgiveness. And if you do it well enough, I'll probably leave you alive."

"I am sorry," I said; I had difficulty to speak with my head so much thrown back. He put his palm on my throat. I thought he would crush it now - but he only probed how it was moving when I spoke. "Please, please, forgive me, monsieur."

"Suck it!" he shoved the hilt of the whip into my mouth. "You like to suck things that went to the ass, don't you?"

The hilt had carving on it. That's how he injured my ass when fucking me with it. I took it into my mouth tasting blood. I was afraid he would thrust it into my throat deep, making with it the same he did with my bottom.

But he let me simply clean it of my own shit and then took it in hand.

"Beg," he said.

I saw him raising the whip and heard swish. It placed right on my crotch, stinging my balls and leaving worm-like trace up to my belly. I yelled.

"Pardon me, oh, God, pardon me!"

He chuckled a little. Another welt swelled on the inside on my thigh.

"Do you understand now how it feels?"

"Yes! Yes, sure," I tried not to start choking. He slashed me again.

"Do you have remorse?"

"Yes, yes, I have it!"

"You lie!" he whipped me once more. "Do you have remorse?"

"Yes!" I shouted.

"Don't you lie to me! Do you have remorse?"

"No!" I broke in tears. If only he didn't hit my balls...

"No?" he stopped. "Why?"

"Because I am hurt," I sobbed. "I can't think about you when I am hurt..."

"You are rotten bastard," he said with loathing. "You deserve to die."

He could kill me all right. With all these swamps around New Orleans he had enough place to dispose from the body. And nobody would notice the disappearance of a waif I was.

He took my hair and wound it around his fist.

"Beautiful hair," he said. "So soft, and yellow, and deceptive. I can tear it up, like that," suddenly he yanked his hand. I yelped - it felt like the roots of my hair were on fire. "I'll tear it up - and nobody will take you for a girl any more."

He pulled again. Tears rose in my eyes.

"Please, don't do it, monsieur."

He let me go. He walked around me pinching fresh welts on my chest and belly. I rocked on the chains trying to escape his hand.

"How old are you, Babel?" he asked coldly.

"Fifteen," I said.

"You are so young and so spoiled," he said musing. "You won't be better

when grow up."

My heart sank.

His fingernails were sticking into my nipple, piercing the skin.

"One of your big brothers, one of twins, said to me it was your idea. Isn't it?" he asked.

"No, I swear, no..."

"I don't know why," he went on, "but I believe him and not you. Why did you think of it?"

Because I was tired of being alone in all that, I thought. But there was no way he would make me confess and got killed for my confession.

"That is why you hate me so much?" I said. "Because you think it was me who suggested to kidnap you and others?"

"I hate all of you equally," he said flatly.

"But you didn't take them..."

"I took them," he answered. "A good brother you are not to know about it!"

"I am not their brother," I whispered under my breath. "I was not. Their father used to fuck my mother. When she died they took care about me. Succession, isn't it?"

"Anyway," he said - and his lips flickered a little mean smile. "I didn't have troubles with finding them. But I had to spend a lot of time to find you."

"I broke loose from them, at last," I explained struggling with pain. He still was hurting me with his fingers moving down along the welt - where the skin above my bush was burnt and blistered. "Soon after."

"I see," he said distantly. "Had a good time, prostituting at Palmetto Hotel in Baton Rouge, dancing in girl's clothes and sucking cocks of every merchant who wanted to pay for it."

He caught me there. He brought me tied and blindfolded - and I even didn't know it was him until we were at his estate.

"You have an appropriate name," he said. "A whore. You are a natural-born whore, aren't you, Babel?"

"No," I said. "I am not."

He moved again. He was between my legs once more. His fingers touched my hole, the scabs of blood around it.

"You didn't even feel when I fucked you," he said. "Maybe, now you will be more sensitive."

He pushed the tip of his prick into my hole. I felt bleeding again.

"Oui," he mumbled under his breath. "Feel it! Feel it like I felt. A whore feeling pain like a virgin."

I screwed up my eyes. He swung me on the chains, moving in and out. He moaned steadily. When he cummed, he pushed me away, freeing himself.

"Will you lick my dick, bitch?" he asked. "Or I'll knock out enough of your teeth so that you can't bite?"

"I'll lick it," I said. I didn't mind. It didn't hurt.

He pissed into my mouth then.

"Thank me, bitch," he said. "As I thanked you when you did it."

"Thank you," I said.

He took the girandole and went to the door.

"Two more days left," he said at the threshold.

The End

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