Hello? Is this the Abuse Spencer Reid Club? (ASRC) I'd like to hand in my resume ;)

Besides that I would just like to mention that this is my first CM fanfic! I've actually been searching for a fic like this one (and I've practically read all the complete Raped!Reid fics) with Reid handling his rape alone instead of having the team supporting him.

I hope that this is an okay first chapter. Depending on your response, it will help me decide if I should finish it or not.

(Slash may occur but most likely not…unless you want it to.)

WARNING: Involves NON-CON (Rape) and Self harm. If any of this is a trigger please do not read! The very beginning of the story is a part of the Rape Scene.

"You save yourself or you remain unsaved."
― Alice Sebold

Spencer had never felt so disgusted with himself in his entire life than in that moment. His back was arched, ass high and presentable with skin glistening in musky sweat. Wet, matted, dark brown hair stuck to the sides of his damp temple and Spencer couldn't see through the mess covering his eyes, never mind how blurred his actual vision was.

He was burning. Spencer's skin was aflame with want and need. He needed release, needed to be taken care of. Touch was a craving that would not go away. He ached.

A sob escaped his saliva coated pink lips as a large tanned muscular hand gently caressed his sensitive flesh. White teeth nipped playfully at his ear and Spencer shivered when his molester laughed lowly at the action. "Aw, look at you." He murmured softly, almost soothingly.

Spencer's hair was pushed away from his eyes and the rock hard chest against his back rumbled in amusement. "Such a pretty boy you are. So beautiful, so fair, such a precious boy." The young FBI agent gasped at the cool breath traveling across his perspiring neck.

The man's member was resting red, hot and stiff between his plump ass cheeks; newly pink from the previous spanking. Spencer could feel the heat directly against his quivering tight hole. He wanted it. He wanted it inside him, wrecking him, fucking him.

No. No I don't. It is just the drug he gave me stimulating my libido. I do not want this! I do not want this! I do not want—

Calloused fingers tugged and twisted at his erect nipples and a broken moan escaped him despite Spencer not wanting it to. He didn't want to encourage—his clouded brain searched for the man's name—Manuel, that's the name he gave me, anyway.

"Do you know why I chose you, my pretty little boy?" Manuel asked while leaning away off of Spencer's back. The sight of the trembling body beneath him was a beautiful and satisfying one. Spencer's lean back was bent so nicely, his perfect ass was pressed up against his cock like it was meant to be there, like it was made for him to fuck relentlessly.

Spencer shoved his face in the pillow, ashamed for being horny beyond all reason. The metal chains encircling his wrists rattled from the movement. The sound made it all the worse. Spencer was being raped, molested, sexually abused yet he was sporting a hard on. He was disgusting. Repulsive.

Manuel's hand smacked his ass hard, the sting bringing Spencer back to his senses. "Pretty boy, you're just like a little child." The man's wide hands groped at his globes, kneading them and squishing them together. Spencer moaned loudly into the pillow as his skin tingled. Hopefully Manuel didn't hear it. Then he would be disgusted too.

I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want it! Please, let me go! I don't want it! No!

"P-Please…" his throat was dry, his tongue heavy. His mouth felt like cotton. "I don't…I don't…want…"

"Shut up, slut. It's not rape if you like it," Manuel hissed while grabbing his erection and squeezing. "You fucking love this, whore." Another sob made way up Spencer's throat. Cool tears cascaded down his flushed cheeks, leaving a trail of wet.

Spencer didn't know. His mind didn't want this. His mind screamed that this was rape and that he was drugged and he didn't want it. But his body? It was screaming for sex, pleasure, friction. It literally burned. There was fire under Spencer's skin itching to be touched, caressed and held.

I need it inside me. I can't take this heat anymore. I can't. I don't want it. But I can't.

Manuel groaned loudly as he spread Spencer wide; pushing the other's skinny legs farther apart before diving down and dotting kisses across his ass. The feather-like touches felt wonderful on his skin. Spencer tried to move away with what little strength he could muster but Manuel gripped his hips harshly and pulled him closer.

The agent tried to ignore the wonderful feeling of licks and tiny bites. He had to keep reminding himself that he was drugged. That he didn't like being raped. That the man making him feel a way that he's never felt before is because of some narcotic substance.

Something slimy and small poked at his anus. He gasped when the tongue pushed past his tight ring of muscles and licked along his insides. It didn't hurt terribly but it did give him a dull pain. However the pleasure that overcame him was enough to make him ejaculate right there.

That's exactly what he did.

"What a good boy," Manuel cooed in a voice one would speak while talking to a child.

He was disgusting. A disgrace. He didn't deserve to work in the BAU. Not while he was orgasming over being raped. People who are raped don't feel any pleasure, they don't get any merit. People who are raped don't cum from being touched by a rapist.

Spencer cried. He cried and moaned and came plenty of times in the next four hours as he was fucked into a cheap mattress by Manuel in a building he didn't know the name of. When he passed out from exhaustion his body still drummed with want.

The next time Reid woke up he was lying on his side, no longer handcuffed and now facing a bureau clustered with everyday items. A bright thin yellow blanket was pulled up to his bony shoulders and for a brief moment he wondered where he was. Birds chirped lightly outside the unfamiliar window and although Reid wasn't a morning person without at least one cup of coffee in his system it sounded soothing.

That's when the memories came rushing in, flooding his mind and drowning the calmness instantly.

Reid held his breath, gripped the soft sheet around him tightly and listened for sound. After deeming himself alone and relatively safe he numbly crawled out of the stranger's bed, ignoring the piercing pain shooting up his back and bottom.

The young agent noticed his clothes in a messy pile on the floor in the corner of the small room and limped over to it. Bending over had never been so painful. The ache from earlier was different from the ache he had now. Before it was an ache of want and now it was an ache of pain and regret.

Reid dressed as quickly as his battered body allowed. He felt dirty. Used. Wasted. Like trash.

When he took the train back towards his home, when he entered his apartment, when he stripped down and entered the boiling shower, only then did he cry. Broken sobs racked his thin frame. With every gasp for breath he shuddered and shook in terror and humiliation.

He was revolting. Selfish. Ugly. A Whore, just like Manuel said. Reid was nothing.

The hot water made his pale yet bruised skin an angry red but Reid still felt his touch. He still felt the hands on him; his arms, legs, hips, everywhere. He would never be clean again. He would never be himself again. His gifted eidetic memory replayed the scene over and over like a scratched record.

The water cooled over the past hour and Reid climbed out of the shower shivering. Instead of grabbing a towel however he dropped to his knees and vomited in the toilet until nothing but bile dripped out from his mouth. Liquid drops traveled down his body, his hair was soaked and sticking to his skin. Reid hugged the john and whimpered in pain and self-hatred.

Reid needed somebody. He needed comfort and love and sympathy and…and…

The genius used the seat to help him into a standing position. Then he reached out and leaned tiredly against the sink before turning and looking in the mirror. Reid didn't usually like looking in the mirror. He always felt uncomfortable when gazing at the reflection that stared back at him. His thoughts didn't change, in fact, they grew worse.

Hickeys appeared across his neck and shoulders here and there, his lip was thinly split from being bitten at last night. Looking down at his horribly skinny and hideous body he noticed bruises on his thighs and hips. Reid sniveled while turning away.

He hated himself. He hated his body, his everything.

Closing his hazel eyes, Reid tried to take deep and steady breaths. He needed to calm down but it was difficult. How could he calm down when he was raped and enjoyed it? How could he calm down when girls and boys alike suffer with trauma and here he is, also suffering but had the pleasure of feeling good? Spencer Reid was selfish. He didn't deserve anything.

Even though it was nearing the afternoon Reid managed to get to his comfortable bed and lie down without dressing. Why should he dress when others weren't able? His figure shivered from fear, internal hysteria and cold while tears silently slid down his pale face.

Reid wanted to die.

So what do you think so far? Love it? Hate it?

Question of the Chapter:

Do you think what happened to Reid would be considered Rape? (Just want to know your opinion)