Angels Never Cry
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By: Ryoko [Raiju]
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"Come here, boy." The large man commanded, pulling the fragile boy to fall in his lap. The teenager nearly choking on the iron collar. He swallowed hard, looking up at the man to show him his agony, but expecting no pity. Surprisingly, he was let go for a brief moment, gasping only a single gasp of breath before suddenly pulled back to his master's side, chain so taught that it could've snapped, had it been only a little thinner. "By god, what are you waiting for woman?! Strip him already, Almire!"
The woman hesitated, running to the teenager and fumbling with his clothes until each piece of cloth lay on the floor around his ankles. The boy stood emotionlessly, facing away from the older man at the three guards that stood before the door.
"Take it like a man, brat." He pulled the boy to his lap, instantly causing a scream as he was forced into; never even hearing the man's pants being undone. He bit his lip hard to stop from crying, holding in everything he could as he was forced through. He sat there, motionless for a moment, slowly letting out the breath he'd began to hold. His head was snapped back as the collar was pulled on, as well as he hair. "Get to work, brat." Obeying like the puppet he was, he let himself be used mercilessly, his body ready to catch on fire when he was done being molested. Falling to the floor in front of the, now relieved, master of his, he panted furiously, pushing himself up against all that pulled him down.
The man had been angered by the boy's weakness and pulled him to his feet by the collar, nearly falling again as he choked against the iron being tightly pressed into his windpipe. He reached down and redressed himself, kneeling beside his master and looking emotionlessly at the floor. Never once did he dare to look up at the man that bound and raped him, for merely LOOKING at him would cause a rough molesting or beating, both of which he didn't need more of today.
At least tomorrow he could escape this. Tomorrow he'd be safe. But, for the time being, he sat quietly by the man's side, his head bowed, as a number of business suit-wearing men strode into and out of the room, doing brief business with the man, and then leaving the room.
This teenager, he'd been here, like this, for three years, ever since he'd moved to Japan after his parents' deaths. He now lived with his uncle: his master and owner, who refused to say he was a blood-relative of the boy.
As an older, more refined, gentleman entered the room; the teenager's chain was jerked.
"Almire, get the kid out of here." His uncle ordered, handing the chain over to the frightened woman.
"Come, Dominique." She whispered, walking the teenager out of the room.
Once outside the doors, she brought him to a secretive corner and held him protectively, letting him cry as much as he could onto her shoulder.
"It's alright to cry, little one, it's okay to cry. Go on, let it out." She whispered, running her fingers through his short brown hair as he cried harder and harder, not uttering the slightest sound.
His crying was cut short when both of them heard footsteps and immediately began walking to the boy's bedroom, closing the door and wishing that there was a handle on the door, just to be able to lock it. He needed that sense of security, especially right now.
"Get washed up, little one." She whispered, walking him to the small bathroom and unlocking the collar from his neck, then letting him go inside of his own free will. After the door was closed, he started the shower and tore the rags from his body, closing the door to the large shower stall and collapsing to the floor, his head huddled between his knees as he sobbed quietly, letting the hot water burn his dirty skin. If only the water would take away more than that...if only it could take away his memories, his pain...and above all: HIM.
Tomorrow he'd be safe. Everything would be okay the second he got out of this place and entered the doors of the school lobby. The second he entered those doors; he didn't have to worry anymore. Most people avoided him in school, seeing him as 'too quiet and withdrawn', though, that was only the male section. Any girl that saw him, died for his charming smile, which was so rare and hard to come by.
He couldn't understand why he'd never been able to leave. Sure, he'd attempted endless times to get away from his uncle's abuse, but always ended up being dragged back. The man had a lot of co-workers and customers that would know Dominique anywhere. If he was any other place but school or by his uncle's side, than he was dragged back to the house, where his punishment would follow. His aunt, Almire, had helped him a couple of times, using herself as a decoy so he could escape, but the woman barely survived each beating or whatever else she got. She was too weak to stand up against her husband, and had previously felt Dominique's exact pain, but could do nothing in contrast to either factor. She always did her best to stop his pain, and thus was normally there as a shoulder for him to cry on, hoping that it was enough to help the boy along.
Exhausted from the day's usage and excessive crying he'd been doing, the boy fell onto the mat on the floor, curling into a ball to keep warm, holding the long shirt and shorts tightly together to produce more heat. Rarely was this heat enough, but tonight it was. Thankfully, it was warm tonight, regardless of the springtime weather.
He knew he had to tell someone. But whom could he go to? The police worked with his uncle as well. Jeez, more than HALF of the station had done business with the man. Why did his uncle have so many clients? He ran several prostitution rings along the coast, and Dominique was frequently used to show the quality of his employed whores. However, Dominique was no whore. He wanted to be free from this, from the daily pain and daily molestation. He couldn't keep quiet about it any longer...someone had to know. Omi. Yeah, Omi would listen to him and understand, and he also had those friends of his...the guys that worked at the flower shop...they knew a lot of people. If he told Omi about what was happening, then he'd be saved...but...he didn't want to burden the boy. He'd wait until it came up in one of their conversations.
"Omi...help me...please, help me." He whimpered. With the thoughts tugging at his mind, and warm tears cascading down his face, he fell asleep.
**********
Game Over?
Continue?
**********
By: Ryoko [Raiju]
**********
"Come here, boy." The large man commanded, pulling the fragile boy to fall in his lap. The teenager nearly choking on the iron collar. He swallowed hard, looking up at the man to show him his agony, but expecting no pity. Surprisingly, he was let go for a brief moment, gasping only a single gasp of breath before suddenly pulled back to his master's side, chain so taught that it could've snapped, had it been only a little thinner. "By god, what are you waiting for woman?! Strip him already, Almire!"
The woman hesitated, running to the teenager and fumbling with his clothes until each piece of cloth lay on the floor around his ankles. The boy stood emotionlessly, facing away from the older man at the three guards that stood before the door.
"Take it like a man, brat." He pulled the boy to his lap, instantly causing a scream as he was forced into; never even hearing the man's pants being undone. He bit his lip hard to stop from crying, holding in everything he could as he was forced through. He sat there, motionless for a moment, slowly letting out the breath he'd began to hold. His head was snapped back as the collar was pulled on, as well as he hair. "Get to work, brat." Obeying like the puppet he was, he let himself be used mercilessly, his body ready to catch on fire when he was done being molested. Falling to the floor in front of the, now relieved, master of his, he panted furiously, pushing himself up against all that pulled him down.
The man had been angered by the boy's weakness and pulled him to his feet by the collar, nearly falling again as he choked against the iron being tightly pressed into his windpipe. He reached down and redressed himself, kneeling beside his master and looking emotionlessly at the floor. Never once did he dare to look up at the man that bound and raped him, for merely LOOKING at him would cause a rough molesting or beating, both of which he didn't need more of today.
At least tomorrow he could escape this. Tomorrow he'd be safe. But, for the time being, he sat quietly by the man's side, his head bowed, as a number of business suit-wearing men strode into and out of the room, doing brief business with the man, and then leaving the room.
This teenager, he'd been here, like this, for three years, ever since he'd moved to Japan after his parents' deaths. He now lived with his uncle: his master and owner, who refused to say he was a blood-relative of the boy.
As an older, more refined, gentleman entered the room; the teenager's chain was jerked.
"Almire, get the kid out of here." His uncle ordered, handing the chain over to the frightened woman.
"Come, Dominique." She whispered, walking the teenager out of the room.
Once outside the doors, she brought him to a secretive corner and held him protectively, letting him cry as much as he could onto her shoulder.
"It's alright to cry, little one, it's okay to cry. Go on, let it out." She whispered, running her fingers through his short brown hair as he cried harder and harder, not uttering the slightest sound.
His crying was cut short when both of them heard footsteps and immediately began walking to the boy's bedroom, closing the door and wishing that there was a handle on the door, just to be able to lock it. He needed that sense of security, especially right now.
"Get washed up, little one." She whispered, walking him to the small bathroom and unlocking the collar from his neck, then letting him go inside of his own free will. After the door was closed, he started the shower and tore the rags from his body, closing the door to the large shower stall and collapsing to the floor, his head huddled between his knees as he sobbed quietly, letting the hot water burn his dirty skin. If only the water would take away more than that...if only it could take away his memories, his pain...and above all: HIM.
Tomorrow he'd be safe. Everything would be okay the second he got out of this place and entered the doors of the school lobby. The second he entered those doors; he didn't have to worry anymore. Most people avoided him in school, seeing him as 'too quiet and withdrawn', though, that was only the male section. Any girl that saw him, died for his charming smile, which was so rare and hard to come by.
He couldn't understand why he'd never been able to leave. Sure, he'd attempted endless times to get away from his uncle's abuse, but always ended up being dragged back. The man had a lot of co-workers and customers that would know Dominique anywhere. If he was any other place but school or by his uncle's side, than he was dragged back to the house, where his punishment would follow. His aunt, Almire, had helped him a couple of times, using herself as a decoy so he could escape, but the woman barely survived each beating or whatever else she got. She was too weak to stand up against her husband, and had previously felt Dominique's exact pain, but could do nothing in contrast to either factor. She always did her best to stop his pain, and thus was normally there as a shoulder for him to cry on, hoping that it was enough to help the boy along.
Exhausted from the day's usage and excessive crying he'd been doing, the boy fell onto the mat on the floor, curling into a ball to keep warm, holding the long shirt and shorts tightly together to produce more heat. Rarely was this heat enough, but tonight it was. Thankfully, it was warm tonight, regardless of the springtime weather.
He knew he had to tell someone. But whom could he go to? The police worked with his uncle as well. Jeez, more than HALF of the station had done business with the man. Why did his uncle have so many clients? He ran several prostitution rings along the coast, and Dominique was frequently used to show the quality of his employed whores. However, Dominique was no whore. He wanted to be free from this, from the daily pain and daily molestation. He couldn't keep quiet about it any longer...someone had to know. Omi. Yeah, Omi would listen to him and understand, and he also had those friends of his...the guys that worked at the flower shop...they knew a lot of people. If he told Omi about what was happening, then he'd be saved...but...he didn't want to burden the boy. He'd wait until it came up in one of their conversations.
"Omi...help me...please, help me." He whimpered. With the thoughts tugging at his mind, and warm tears cascading down his face, he fell asleep.
**********
Game Over?
Continue?