I came round in an unfamiliar bed. For a while I lay flat looking to the immaculate white ceiling above me. My senses were slow in returning to me. I felt creased sheets under me and a kind of soft heavy blanket partly covered me.

I shifted. My body was in a dull tiresome ache - as if somebody stomped on me. And I had the sorest fuckhole in my life. But the most specific thing was that my mind was absolutely void of memories what this place was and how I got there.

Okay, it was not the first time when I wound up asking his name a man I spent night with. But now - I understood it when looked around - there was nobody to ask.

I was alone in a small room where the most part of space was taken by the bed I lay in. It was lit with yellowish electric light, neither bright, nor dim. The walls were white and of a little rippled quality, finished with wooden panels in their bottom parts.

My brains still were not working properly - that is why I obviously didn't notice at once that there were no windows in the room. There were two doors instead, one of them a bit opened.

I put my feet on the floor. The carpet surface was soft and warm. No my shoes at the bed. But what shoes! I glanced around once more and I didn't see any of my clothes either.

Barefoot I made some steps to the opened door. It was to a tiny bathroom, of the corresponding size with the room: only shower, sink and lavatory there. Somehow disappointed, I turned to the other door. It was clearly different from the first one. It was more solid, completely smooth, without any handles or slots and fit so tightly that there was only a hardly visible border between it and the wall. I pushed it with both my hands. It didn't give in. Well, it didn't look like it was going to give in.

I walked a circle around the room. I didn't know what to think. It could be everything - from an evidence that my night partner had somehow weird tastes - to a silly joke of my friends waiting for me to start panicking.

If it was the case, I was not going to please them. I didn't have claustrophobia, for all I knew. I returned to the bathroom. In a huge mirror on the wall I saw my own naked figure. There was a fairly more damage made to my body than my raw asshole. I had long nasty scratches on my hips, obviously from somebody's fingernails, quite scabbed - but when I touched them, I felt heat of pain going through my body. One of my nipples was bruised to purple and badly swollen.

It looked like I had a rather stormy sex.

I turned on the water. My mouth was painfully dry - and all in all I felt like my stomach was empty and tightened. I drank some palms of water before stepping under the shower. The water had a vague metallic blend - but it was hot and I was glad to wash the crust of whitish sperm on my legs and belly.

I had a slightly unpleasant feeling not knowing who cummed on me. But whom could I blame for it but myself? The last thing I remembered was my coming to the rave party and this little pill I put on my tongue. I had to pick up a fuckin' son of bitch there and come to his place. I probably even was encouraging him to fuck me hard, to hurt me - I was up to it when on dope.

The only thing was this obliging guy was not very polite to disappear like this. I would be much calm if I saw him.

No, it was not the only thing. There was something more that disturbed me - and I couldn't grasp it for a while. I understood when I ran my hands over my face, washing. Bristle. It was to rough for one day. Hell! It looked more like a week than one night!

Now, when I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes were black of widened pupils.

Nothing changed in the room when I returned. I tried the solid door once more and sat down on the bed. There was nothing I could do. I put the blanket around me. I was shivering. I still didn't want to think about the explanation that was the only one possible. That the guy I hooked turned out to be a sicky and locked me here, keeping me on medicines and making sex to me. What kind of fucker he had to be to tear my asshole this way!

Thinking about it made me feel dizzy. Why did I never think that something bad could happen to me? I was told to be more careful - I never listened - until it became too late. I curled on my side, clasping the blanket. I stared at the door waiting for him to come.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, it was dark. I had to fall asleep. I missed the changes when they happened. I was on my back, with my hands raised over my head and fastened there. Not in ropes, not even in cuffs. The rings on my wrists were more firm, fixed together and clipped to the wall a little above.

There was somebody on me. The room was so dark that I couldn't see anything. But I felt a lot of him - he was heavy and huge and swarmed on me. His scent was a strong one - but though I was clouded by it, I couldn't define if it was sweat or spicy perfume or something foul.

I thrashed under him. These were quite helpless movements - he was simply a bulk (that didn't surprise me, taking into account my tastes) - but at least I gave him to know that I was conscious.

"Wait! No!" I didn't like the way he was doing it - silently, only with his breath touching my face.

He didn't answer. I felt his chest pressed to mine. It caused me troubles with breathing. His big cold hands grabbed my thighs spreading them wider and pulling up. His fingers went right into the scratches, making me flinch. I wondered how often he did it.

His cock was set against my cleft. I shuddered feeling its size. I had to expect it - according to the condition of my hole - but it didn't help me to cope with the thought that he would drive it inside me right now.

I twitched desperately.

"No! Don't do it! You don't have right! I don't want you to!"

Without saying a word he raised himself on one hand and slapped me with the other. His strength was enormous. It felt like a shell exploded in my head. My lips became numb but they must have been splinted because a thin stream of blood tickled my chin.

He returned his hands to the position, digging his fingers in my skin. I was helpless - and the first stunning wave of pain went through me with the thick head of his cock penetrating my ass.

"Ooh, God!"

I didn't scream. Not because I was so patient, I would like to scream - but my throat was so contracted that I couldn't manage anything loud enough. He started thrusting - and I made more noise, moans in synch with his advance inside me. Even with the stretching he already gave to my ass he could not possibly insert his entire dick at once. He did it in several portions --and when he was in I thought I felt the tip of it right in my belly.

I whimpered uncontrollably. The pain didn't subside. But it was nothing in comparison with the agonizing torment when he began to really fuck me. My own howls frightened that little part of my mind that could register anything else but the blinding pain.

He battered my ass using his strength to shove his cock into me as deep as possible. And it was not deep enough for him because he was pulling my hips closer to him , scraping my skin to bleeding.

"God, stop it! Please, stop it!" sometimes I could articulate the words but more often I just wailed. Neither this not that seemed to affect him.

He speeded up. I heard his breath becoming panting. His cock was pulverizing me, beating my rectum to numbness. I made shrieks, anxious to pass out.

I didn't. He cummed before it. I felt jets of his liquid blasting inside me, one by one, huge amounts. I never even could imagine someone to ejaculate this much.

His cock limped. He did hurt me dragging this flaccid thing through my wounded rectum - but not far as much as before. I was sobbing because I was already weak of pain.

He didn't say a word getting up from me. For a moment in the lit square of the opening door I saw his grotesque silhouette - and then he left.

* * *

Only after some time I realized that he didn't release my hands. I lay uncovered, in darkness, on the sheets soaking in his semen and my blood.

I was cold and exhausted. The only sound I heard was my own sobbing.

Maybe, I fainted for a while - I didn't know. Somehow it seemed to me that only quite a short time passed. But it had to be a longer term - because he was again in the room with me.

I felt his presence on the bed very near. Despair seized me - I was so much hurt, I couldn't stand it once more! Not yet.

"Oh, please, please, don't!" my voice broke when I started. Tears ran from my eyes. I heard his breath - a sigh. No answer.

Instead he leant to me - and I sensed his cold hand with extremely long fingers on my cheek. It seemed he saw me perfectly because suddenly his wet tongue touched the flow of blood from my lips. His tongue was huge, too, and somehow rough. He licked the blood and rather carefully touched the splits. I groaned. He lapped my tears - I couldn't stop shedding them.

And then he started crawling over me.

I pissed myself. I was afraid of this pain so much - it just went beyond my control. He grunted something - I understood he felt what happened. He was sitting between my thighs.

"Why are you going to do it again?" I spoke and my voice was almost unrecognizably shaky. "Are you horny again? Oh, Christ, please, give me some more time!"

His palm patted my belly.

"My God!" I felt he took my hips again. There was no mercy from him.

I blacked out when he started.

* * *

My hands were free when I came to my senses. Light again. It hurt to move. On the floor at the bed I saw a tray with a tall glass and some kind of food on the plate - half-liquid paste, unappetizing looking. I sipped the drink. It had a strange taste but I thought I would enjoy it - if I were not in such pain.

I still was dryly dirty - but the sheets under me seemed to be changed. No more piss or semen. And - actually - I couldn't see any device on the wall above my head where my hands could be attached.

With quite a difficulty I dragged myself to the bathroom. My face in the mirror was the one of walking dead. I got under the water.

Maybe, there was some pain-killer in the drink - but I started feeling better after a while. Not completely, of course. As much as I wanted to clean my hole from the fuckin' sperm of this bastard, I couldn't even think about touching it.

I found toothbrush, paste, hairbrush and a disposable razor. I hated him taking care about me this way - and still I hated even more to be this slovenly. I brought myself in order and returned to the room. Well, somehow the paste on the plate didn't seem so disgusting for me. I probed it with the finger and licked it. It was not bad.

I walked a little after I ate. The door was shut - as if it didn't never open. I pushed the walls with faint hope that one of them suddenly would yield. In vain, of course.

Soon I was tired of moving. It ached to sit - but I didn't want to lie down. I wanted to be ready when he came. He didn't have to get me while I was sleeping - no more again. The door stayed shut.

* * *

Time was a mess for me after a while. I couldn't monitor any more how long the periods when I slept and when I was awake were. The minutes when I was fucked seemed to go forever. All other was in blur. It took a lot for me to understand that there were two of them, my jailers. The thing why I couldn't believe it was that it seemed impossible for me that there were two people in the world with such big members.

But one of them was cruel. The one who was leaving these inflamed scratches on my body; the one who put his mouth on my nipples and bit them without caring how much he hurt me. Soon I came to fear him frantically. The bad thing was there was no system in their visits. Sometimes one came two or three times in succession --and even if I was not asleep, I couldn't identify them on silhouette. Both were very tall - and in the short moment when they appeared in the lit doorway I saw that they matched it exactly - and it was stretched-hand high for me.

I used to think the other one kind. He never punched me and sometimes, if I whined especially pitifully, he changed his mind from fucking me and jerked off on me instead. He caressed me. He played with my genitals without hurting them. I tried to speak to him.

He never answered. But I didn't doubt he understood me.

I was in pain constantly. It dulled when I drank their drinks and, as the food they gave to me was half-liquid, I didn't have many problems with shitting. No, I didn't get accustomed to what was being done to me. But I felt too tired to do anything.

* * *

He was kissing me. His thick tongue wandered in my mouth. I didn't mind - the longer he did it, the farther from me was the moment of penetration. My head rested in his palm.

I didn't know why I responded him. I was strained in apprehension of pain - but I passed my tongue over his. He didn't seem to notice it at first. A little less reluctantly I flickered it once more. I never could understand why he tasted so strange. I licked his huge language in my mouth.

He withdrew. It was as if he supported himself on his hands, looking at me in the darkness.

"C'mon," I whispered. "Kiss me."

Our tongues intertwined. They pushed and battled as if we were lovers. I heard his sigh when he let me go.

I moved my curled fingers fixed in the rings.

"C'mere. Let me touch you."

After a pause he shifted. I felt his head approaching my hands. His skull was bald. A vast perfect form, smooth and cold. I patted it in the manner he sometimes patted me. A low murmur escaped him.

I tried to reach to his face. He didn't allow me. The tips of my fingers only brushed it. He backed.

He was kissing my chest and belly now. His lips were tender where his fellow hurt me. He kissed my bush, gently pulling the hair with his lips. He kissed my prick in the same way, just printing his kisses on it.

I was soft. He put his tongue into my slit and licked a little from it. His breath was slightly warm.

He licked his finger and probed my ass. I clenched my teeth not to scream. He pulled my hips up suddenly, more upward than usually. And I felt his tongue licking around my anus.

It was painful - but somehow it was pleasant, too. It seemed to soothe the splits on my skin. He pushed his tongue inside. I moaned. He took it away. He rocked me slightly.

When he lay down on me, he didn't insert his cock. He put it between my thighs, imitating the fucking. It took a while but he cummed at last. I was afraid to believe my luck.

* * *

I spoke to him every time he was with me. Okay, he didn't give up fucking at all - but he used other ways as often as not. I asked him questions.

"Where are we? Why do you hold me? Will you let me go?"

He kept silence.

"Are you going to keep me here forever? You can't. Nobody do it. You are breaking me. I can't live this way.

"I want to speak to somebody. I want to see somebody. I am going mad with these walls and this light. Please, do something to me. Give me a TV set, at least, a video! I don't know! I have to walk out - I am tired here!"

On my next period of awakening I found some books on the floor at the bed. The Bible, Shakespeare and "Mein Kampf" in German. Was I supposed to read it? I wound up going through "Romeo and Juliet".

And then, once, when I was asleep, I was taken out of the room. I came to myself standing blindfolded on something that felt like grass under my feet. I felt a sharp gush of wind rippling my hair. There were sounds and scents of a garden around me - fresh as they can be only at night. After all this time of my imprisonment they made me feel dizzy. A strong aroma of ripe apples, rustle of leaves - and a pretty singing of a bird.

I made several steps. And at once familiar hands seized me around my chest and dragged me - where? Back to my room?

I cried for so long after it that my warders never let me out again.

* * *

I thought about it quite often after that. It was November when I got caught. Could it be possible that I spent so much time here? I didn't know. What I knew was - if I could be kept here for so long - there was nothing that would prevent them from keeping me any longer. I got sick when I realized it.

Yes, my existence became less grim, at least physically. But I started having nightmares almost every time I slept. I was coming to the door, pushing it as always - and it surrendered to me. And then I understood there was nothing after the threshold.

I don't remember how I got the idea. Was it the certainty in my dream that the door opened after a simple push? Though I often was destroyed by pain by the time my partners left me, I, however, noticed that they didn't use any remote control device when leaving. That could mean one thing - the door had the lock only from outside. When they were with me, it stayed unlocked.

And, really, why not - I was fastened tightly to the rings then.

It was my kind one I started pressing - but who else? The other never listened to me.

"Why don't you let me touch you?" I asked. "I want to make love to you. I want to caress you. Don't you want me to have pleasure?"

At first he put his palm on my mouth - as always when he didn't want me to speak. But I was determined. The only thing I couldn't do for him to assure him in my good will was to get hard-on - and he didn't seem to wait for it. All other things that made sex look voluntary I did.

It was a kind of shock for me when I felt that he didn't cuff one of my hands for the first time.

I slid my palm over his shoulder, down on his long back. His cold skin was perfectly smooth, almost slippery. It felt like silky cloth covering steel carcass. His muscles were unyielding.

He lay over me, partly risen on his hands. His cock pushed heavily in my belly. Reluctantly I reached my hand for it.

Now I could feel exactly how big it was. I was far from joining my fingers around it. And it was hard, harder than any cock I had in my hand ever.

With hesitation I started jerking him off. He gave a sigh - of pleasure, probably, at least he didn't stop me.

I braced his hips with my legs, pulling him closer, and masturbate his phallus ferociously. The tip of it was poking in my abdomen. He grunted. I increased the speed and the pressure of my hand. I squeezed his cock violently. He gasped and exploded in a great blast. The spurt of his semen flooded me.

He fell on me, all spent. His arms didn't support him. For a moment his weight was unbearable - but he rolled near to me almost at once. His breath tickled me.

I dipped my fingers in the smeared pool of liquid on my belly. I knew he looked at me. I smiled and put the fingers into my mouth.

I felt cold. I knew how sperm tasted. This one tasted wrong.

* * *

I shut my mind from everything. The only thought I afforded was if he would set both my hands free next time. He did.

He covered my face with kisses. I stroked his immensely broad shoulders, waiting for his breath to quicken. When he jointed his mouth with mine, I groped for a little blade under the sheet. I'd wrenched it out of one of disposable razors. I was careful - in case if they could watch me (and I didn't doubt they could) - I worked under the blanket.

When he raised himself on his elbows over me, I slashed the blade where his eyes had to be.

Small it was - but it was sharp. I felt something warm plashing on my face. A shrill cry rang in my ears - an impossible cry - something I never heard before.

I rolled out from under him. He screamed tearingly. I hit the door with all my body. It slid open. For a moment the light blinded me - but I couldn't wait to get accustomed to it.

There was something in front of me. A long corridor, high and narrow. I took right - simply because it looked like there was something there. I ran by the doors on both sides of me. I don't know why I didn't try them.

There was nobody after me. The corridor finished with another door. I pressed the handle - it didn't move. In a kind of daze I pushed it - the same result. Then I pulled it to myself and it opened.

There was another corridor, a little broader. I ran along it. I seemed to hear something in front of me - the kind of sound water made when licking the shore. Could it be possible? I strove there. I found one more door and I knew already how the handles worked.

I opened it and stepped over the threshold. Oh my GodŁ I needed a while to understand. It was not an exit from the house. It was just one more room, almost empty, with white paneled walls I knew so well. And still the sound of the sea was here - and the scent, similar to how decomposing sea-weeds smelled, only highly blended with metal. And I felt warm, almost hot water washing my feet.

Then the figure from the low armchair in the center of the room stood up - and I started fainting even before it reached to me and slammed my head into the wall.

* * *

He was wakening me. It was something new - usually they both didn't care if I was responsive. I opened my eyes. I was in my room. The sheets, painfully familiar, were in front of my eyes.

I lay on my stomach. My arms were stretched apart and fastened to the solid rings on the wall in front of me.

When I shifted, I heard the first swish above me. The pain was stinging. More a burn that a lash. I gritted my teeth. He was whipping me. I felt my skin was splitting under his heavy blows.

I made my mind not to scream. I was bitter and spiteful and I thought it was a good way to die under his lashes.

Only I didn't stand. He beat so hard and so long - and I gave in to moans. And to squeals after a while. And he made me ask him about mercy. I hated my own voice repeating:

"Please, please, I am sorry! I don't do it any more!"

I thought I wouldn't be able to bear even one more - but I had more and I didn't die, nothing. When he stopped, I couldn't believe it. I feared I still felt the lash on my back. And he didn't left. He was mounting me. His penis went deep into my rectum in one thrust.

He fucked me hard - even he never was so cruel to me - grounding me with his blows; his fingernails were stuck in the bloody welts on my shoulders and his teeth dug there, too.

I cried but my voice sounded strange to me and the words seemed meaningless.

He didn't cum into me. I felt him yanking his full-hard cock out and fountaining on my back, mixing his sperm with my blood.

I sobbed. He hurt me so much - but now it had to be over. And then I felt him pushing into my ass something else. It was not all! He didn't think he punished me enough!

At first I didn't understand what it was. The pain was beyond imagination and it dulled my wits. It was bigger and harder than even his cock and of angular form. It tore me. My blood was a hot stream in my crotch. He was pushing it deeper inside me, no less excruciating, not for a moment, and he pulled it back quickly and sharply - to push again.

He was fisting me! I screamed my lungs out. There was red mist in front of my eyes. I screamed without hearing my screams any more.

He stopped. It was the only reason why I didn't get mad. There was blood leaking out of my mouth - I didn't know why. His arm in my anus was burning. But he stopped.

In a while I understood another presence in the room. I didn't see - not through red - and my own sobs were the loudest sound for me. But the other one was here, too. The one I hurt with the blade.

He stood over me and I heard his voice for the first time. It sounded guttural, hoarse. I didn't understand anything. He seemed to be angry.

The one with his limb in my ass replied sharply. He stirred his fist. I coughed in shriek and in blood. They argued over me, quickly and temperamentally.

Then, after a pause, the fist was pulled out of me - in one swift motion.

I felt I was dying.

* * *

It was a long time until I could lie on my back. And much longer time until I could start accepting their organs again.

I was motionless mostly, shuddering from time to time. He spent a lot of time with me, giving me to drink, cleaning me and taking care about my injuries.

They didn't switch off the light any more - as I knew now what I didn't want to know for so long - because it is the last idea that can be accepted if you want to consider yourself mentally sane. They were not humans.

His perfect satin skin was a deep navy-blue color. Only on his face, across the bridge of his nose and his lashless lids there was a long swollen scar of bright purple.

They were not humans. And the place they kept me in was not a house. And even if I could open every door around me, I had nowhere to go from here.

He spoke to me. His voice became a murmur when he tried to get me out of my estrangement. He touched me with tender fingers where it didn't hurt.

I can't say how much time passed before I had a feeble wish to speak back to him.

"What is your name?" I asked.

I told already, he understood me completely - while I didn't understand a word of his. What he said sounded imperceptible for me, still less imitable.

"I didn't get it," I said. He spread his hands helplessly and smiled. Their mimic was sparse but recognizable.

"My name is Jerry," I said.

He repeated. It was useless - I wouldn't catch my own name in his pronunciation if I didn't know it was it.

* * *

I was asleep when it happened. The quake threw me down from the bed. I slammed into the wall and dumbfound saw the light in my room changing from yellow to dark-red. Somewhere far there were shrilling sounds of mechanisms.

It seemed the ship was shaken. It was not in its normal position any more. The wall I was pressed to became the floor.

I waited, stricken with horror, if the knock occurred again.

It never happened. The sounds stopped. Everything stopped. Only the red light. I didn't know what happened. Did we collide with anything? Or was it an inner break? Or, maybe, we were attacked by another spaceship? It could be whatever.

In a while I tried to get to the door. It was right over me now. And I thought how lucky I was that the bed was fastened to the floor - everything else dropped down already. I climbed on the bed and pushed the door - as I did it thousand times. And once more it didn't open.

I returned to my place. There was nothing I could do. Only wait.

Time passed. Maybe, several hours. As much as I was tensed and scared, I still got tired. I slept. It had to be for a while because my body was numb when I woke up.

Still no changes. I wondered if my jailers got killed in the collision. Then I didn't have any chances.

I crawled to the bathroom. As I partly expected - and feared - there was no water, when I turned on the tap.

I didn't want to die. My life seemed disgusting for me - and still I didn't want to die. The feeling was so strong that it amazed me.

I lay on the floor - on the wall - and wrapped the blanket around me. There were my books lying torn and open near.

I didn't know how much time passed. I was terribly thirsty. I didn't stir my tongue in my mouth because it caused sores on it - and even so it was sore.

I felt the wall going up - and at the first moment I couldn't believe it. I didn't dare. But when I rolled back on the floor and the pillow dropped softly on my face, I stopped doubting. I was not alone. They would save me.

The minutes became torture for me. I was too tense to pass out. I hypnotized the door with my stare. And I lapsed into despair hundred times before it opened really.

There was Mine in the doorway. My God! Never I was so glad to see anyone in my life! I threw myself into his arms with a yelp. The cold plate of his chest was pressed to my face. I kissed his unyielding body, wailing bitterly under my breath.

His fingers ran over my hair tenderly and remotely. Then he embraced me and led with him.

* * *

There were fresh scars on his face and his body. He sat in front of me in a room with a table and two high chairs. He looked at me while I drank.

I called him Mine. Not because it was close to his real name. And, actually, it's me who was his, not him - mine. But I used to think about him this way - in difference from the other one who never stopped hurting me.

When I finished, he beckoned me to follow.

The other one lay flat in the oblong capsule in a small room. His skin had a pale-blue color - and it told me that he was dead even before I saw the gap on his chest with the fragments of bones crushed and broken.

I stood still over him, with Mine stooping his head. I had a strange feeling. I couldn't possibly feel sorry for the being who took his pleasure in torturing me. And yet I felt real sorrow. Maybe, for Mine. He was alone now. As I was alone.

* * *

We lay on the hot sand. The sun was bright and caressing - and I heard the plash of waves just near to me. I used to love this particular imitation - and Mine seemed to enjoy it, too. It had to remind him about his own land.

His long-fingered hand was travelling around my crotch, playing with my hair and touching my hardening prick in short, teasing motions. He rested on his elbow at my side. My fingers glided blindly over his soft lips - and he caught them into his mouth, biting their tips gently. He rounded his palm on my cock. I thrust my hips up a little, provoking him. He stroked, not really squeezing, listening to my small grunts.

When I cummed, his hand was splashed all over. He put it to my lips. I licked it lazily, feeling the slight ferrum taste of his skin mixed with the taste of my own semen.

Then he lay on his back and I bent down to his prominent organ throbbing of juices.

Sometimes I felt I loved him more than I loved anyone of my human lovers.

Once I asked him:

"Will you return me home now, when you are the captain?"

He shook his head adamantly.

"Why?" I waited. "You don't want to stay here alone?"

He shook his head again. He took me to the captain's cabin and showed me some maps and calculations. I didn't understand it then - but with time I learned - and the numbers gained meaning for me.

It could take several years to get to the Earth again.

The End.