Title: Smother Me
Rating: R or pg13?
Paring: Will/Jack
Summery: Will has been hurt, abused, and everything else you can imagine. He has to escape, but to where? Who will he find? A certain infamous pirate! (I am horrible with summaries.)
Warning: Prostitution, abuse, and slash.
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The boy shut his eyes tight, and balled his hands into a fist. He bit down oh his lip, to not cry out as his first customer rammed into his small, thin body. The man made slow, long, and hard penetrations, making him cringe. He didn't like his new job, but he had no say. He was only a slave, or more precise a dirty, slave boy. His master found out this was a much better, easier way to make money. This was the first time experiencing it and he started to bleed. His eyes watered and, his lip started to bleed too.
He cried out, and tried to move away from the large man, but to no avail. His dirty, large hands grabbed him, his dirty fingernails digging into his soft skin and forcing him down. Once he was done he smiled down at him. His teeth yellow and chipped, and his putrid breath in his face. "Next time you'll be getting something better" He zipped up his pants and left.
The boy shakily stood up and walked into the bathroom of the dingy motel. He took the towel and cleaned himself up, letting more tears slid down his face. He didn't know how he got into his predicament, but he didn't like it. He needed to escape, but there was no place to go. He didn't know anybody, his parents were dead and he didn't have any other relatives he knew.
He slowly pulled his clothes on his frail body and walked out of the motel. Standing outside was his master, grinning at him. "You did well, he paid 65 dollars. Since you did so well let's say we find you another costumer. Once you get better at it we'll have at least a dozen people coming to see your pretty, little face! Boy, your making me some good money!"
He bowed his head down, as his hands trembled. He nodded and followed his master along, walking into various pubs and getting people to look at him. They walked into a pub, there were so many prostitutes, lying around, lazily kissing other men and giving them dances. He cringed and looked up at his master. His master was talking to this man, who was eyeing him up and down and smiling seductively at him. He shuddered and turned around, rather looking at the men and women who were so clearly drunk.
"Hey, Whelp get your ass over here!" his master yelled beckoning for him to come towards them. He slowly walked towards them afraid of the man with those menacing eyes.
"Look isn't he a pretty, little thing! He's young to, everybody loves the young ones. A ripe 15 years old!" he said showing him off.
"How much?" he said his words soft, but his stare still cold, and hard remained staring at him.
"He will be 40 for a half an hour and 65 for an hour. What do you say? Do we have a deal?" he smiled a cheeky grin and waited patiently for his response.
"Alright, I'll have him for an hour. I'll show him a good time." He smirked down at him. He lifted off his stool and took hold of his small wrist.
"Take him to the motel across the street! Room 107!" his master yelled happily, at the bar. The boy began to tremble, and he pleaded with the man.
"Please, please leave me alone. I can't do this, please." He pulled back and stood frozen with fear. The man sneered at him, and slapped him hard across the face.
"Shut your mouth up, boy. You listen to what I say, if you don't I'll make you wish you were dead" he whispered menacingly into his ear and dragged him to the hotel room. He barged open the door and trust him inside. The boy looked around the room wildly and looked for a way to escape, but to his misfortune there was no way other than the door and the man was standing right in front of it.
"Strip, right now! Strip!" he yelled and he quickly and silently took off his raggedy clothes. He stood there terrified, his eyes wide and his heart pounding.
"What's your name, pretty boy?" he asked licking the boys face maliciously. When he didn't respond he slapped him hard across the face again.
"Did you not hear me!? What's your name?" he shouted, angrily.
The boy stuttered and with much difficulty managed to spit out his name.
"My…My name is Will"
He smiled, "Well Will let me show you what real pain and pleasure feels like."
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Will opened his eyes and found he was lying in the motel room as the night before. He shuddered just remembering it. He began to get out of the bed when a burning pain shot threw his body.
His wrists were scarred and bloody, and he noticed he had a few deep cuts in his arm. His head was bleeding, and he felt very dizzy. He felt sick and heaved on the side of the bed.
"Why? Why me, why me?" he repeated over and over, crying as he let out what little food he had in his stomach. His stomached ached and his vision began to blur.
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He lay on the bed, unable to move from last night. He tried to forget it, tried to forget everything that happened, but it was burned into his memory. How the man roped his wrist on the bed post. How he fucked him unmercifully, grinning every time he cried out in pain. After he bashed his head against the head post, and kicked him a few times at his ribs, all because he had struggled and fought back against the man.
Will could not seem to stop shedding his tears. He did not sob but they kept sliding down his face, making the pillow wet. It was morning outside and the sun shone brightly, eager to get the day started. He pulled the covers over his body and curled into a ball, wishing everything would go away.
His master barged into the door and made Will jump three feet into the air. He looked around and found his master. "Hey there, you did great last night, he gave extra money, said you were great. I knew I had a good feeling about you when I bought you at Port Royale. Yup, that Norrington said you'd be great for any kind of work. Oh, How right he was, oh how right."
"Get dressed and come with me. You look to thin, some people wont like that, go steal some food if you want, but don't you dare get caught."
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This has happened for two long years. Two long years of pain, and torture, abuse and anything else you could think of. His body was scarred in many different places, and he no longer struggled against the men. But, he always had that small hope that one day he would leave. Anymore and this would be the death of him. He was 17 years old now, wiser and stronger then when he first started off. He decided now that he had had enough. He had to find a way to escape. He couldn't keep living like this. He left, to walk around the town, finding ways to escape.
He would leave the next night, leaving only with the clothes on his back. He did not own any real possessions. How would he be able to leave, without his master knowing? He didn't know yet, but he was determined to find a way out of this hell.
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Hey please R&R and tell me what you think, what I should work on, and anything else you want to say. Please don't flame. I hope you enjoyed it.
