Trust

[THIS IS A REVISED CHAPTER]

An AU ZoSan-fic by LucyNyy

Summary: AU-high school life. Sanji is believed to live the perfect life, he's handsome and a straight A student at Arabasta High. But behind the façade his life is not so perfect as one think, can a certain green haired teen help him out or will he back away when he figures out the truth?

This is my first fan-fiction published, so reviews are welcomed, anything to help me get better.

Rated M (for good reason)

Includes Rape, Torture, boyXboy, Yaoi, Swearing, sex and very graphical content. (If you don't like, don't read!)

Eventual ZoroXSanji

Disclaimer: I do NOT own One Piece or any of its characters; they all belong to the wonderful Eiichiro Oda. I do not earn any money on this story nor do I want to. I simply write for the fun of it.

1#

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean to be late, but one of the teachers wanted to talk to me about me earning some extra points for college, I'm sorry, just please…"

It was the second time this week that he had come home late due to teachers wanting to talk to him about how well he was doing or about some extra work to earn some extra points. He tried so hard to get home on time, but somehow he always ended up being late by 5 to 10 minutes. He wasn't one of the popular students at school, mostly due to people being afraid of him. He didn't mind it much; he would rather be alone than to live through the pain when they left him later, like always. He was a straight A-student and the teachers liked him, and that was all that mattered now, he needed a scholarship so he could get away from the hell that was his life. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

He had come home 10 minutes late due to his home-ec teacher wanted to talk to him about doing some extra work to gain some extra points for his culinary scholarship next year, of course he was interested and he knew he had to take the offer, he had just wished that it would take less time than it did. His father was furious, being home on time was one of the things that he was most obsessed with, saying that being on time to whatever would benefit him for the rest of his life, it was just that his way of teaching included punishing his son whenever he did anything wrong. It seemed that in his father's mind this was considered normal, punishment and reward, though there was a serious lack of the latter. He wanted to believe that this was his father's way of showing his love, but that wouldn't explain why he always got blamed and punished for every mishap that happened around the house. Maybe if his mother was still alive his father wouldn't hurt him so much, but he knew that it was his fault she was dead, and he deserved to be punished for that.

"How many times have I told you to be home on time?" His father screamed as he sent a fist flying to his face sending him across the room. "You little piece of shit, I should have given you to an orphanage the moment you were born! Now get into my room and strip your bottom half, you will get your punishment for this!"

He slowly got up from the floor, his head pulsating from the impact from where his father had hit him. Slightly dizzy he stumbled towards the master bedroom without saying a word. He had learned to keep his mouth shut the hard way when he was younger. Having being beaten since he could remember he had once tried to stand against his father, but that had led to worse punishment than he could ever imagine. Now that it had become a daily routine he knew that keeping his mouth shut, the punishment would go without him being tied down and whipped while his father had his way with him, though his father would do that occasionally for the fun of it.

He got to the bedroom and stripped as his father had said, bending over the bed and spreading his feet apart. He heard his father take of his belt and walked behind him. "You were 10 minutes late boy, that means 10 strikes, and you will count them aloud!"

"Yes father." He could not stand against him, submitting was the only way to get through it, and he hated himself for being so weak.

The first strike was always the worst. As he heard the snap of leather against naked flesh, he bit down hard onto his arm as to not scream aloud when the pain came. "One" he panted through his teeth. The next one followed right after and he had to concentrate to not yell out; by the fifth he could barely feel it due to the numbness, but he knew the pain would come later, it always did.

He heard his father starting to pant slightly and knew that it turned him on immensely to see his son so weak. As the tenth strike was done he let himself fall down on the bed, burrowing his head in the sheets hiding the tears that had started to fall down his cheeks. Fuck.

His father took his pants off and he felt him lean over his back. "If you had come home on time we wouldn't have to do that as foreplay, but since you don't seem to learn I have to punish you harder and harder each time, not that I mind it, but you do want to walk tomorrow don't you?" His father's hands stroked his hair slowly, almost caressingly, it was sickening.

Yes, he would like to walk tomorrow, but arguing with his father wasn't something he was willing to do at this point, so he simply nodded his agreement hoping it would be enough for now. He really didn't want his father to hear his cracked up voice as he knew it would be due to his crying.

"Good, now if you come home late more this week you know what I have to do right?" His father's voice was hoarse as he was started to pull his hear, he nodded again, not daring to speak, he knew what was coming and he had to ready himself for it.

Forcing his lower half to relax he waited for his father to thrust into him, without prepping him and the use of lube, he just hoped he wouldn't get ripped this time. He felt the hand on his hair slowly sliding down his body to join the other on his hips and then his father's thumbs pressed his ass apart. He tried to relax again and mentally escape into the safe place in his mind, like he usually did, but with the force his father thrust his cock into him he could not think of anything besides the feeling of being ripped apart and the excruciating pain that erupted in his lower back. He didn't get the time to adjust to his father's size before he drove all the way out and then thrust hard into him again, hitting his prostate dead on, making his vision white for a second. The pleasure that would have come with that was lost in the overwhelming pain that ripped through his body. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck I'm getting hard by this, damn. He hated that what his father was doing was turning him on. Cursing his treacherous body for getting turned on by this torture he bit down on his arm to try focus on that pain instead and as to not scream out from the pain. He would not give his father the pleasure of hearing him scream.

Then as he was sure his father noticed he had gotten aroused he had started to apply more force in each thrust increasing the speed making the thrusts at random and it was getting harder and harder to keep from screaming. The pain was just too much now, the tears was streaming faster down his cheeks and he wanted to scream for his father to stop, but he couldn't and wouldn't let his father see how much it hurt. He would never let the man win that battle.

Through the pain he started to feel the build up to his own climax, he wished his body to stop betraying him, not wanting to show his father how much his body enjoyed being used as a sex-toy while his mind screamed for it all to end. His father was close to coming now, he could feel it, the thrust was slowing down but the force behind them was still equally strong if not stronger. He could feel his father's breath on his back sending shivers down his back, suddenly his father reached under him and started to stroke his member in time with the thrusts. Damn, why did he have to do that? Fuck I can't hold on any longer.

"I'm... dad... coming..." he tried as hard as he could to keep his voice steady, but he noticed it was shaky, and he was sure his father had heard it to. "Then come you piece of shit!" and as on cue he came hard on the bed beneath him while his father pumped him through it. His father came too after a couple of more hard thrusts and rode out his climax until he collapsed onto his sons back.

When his father had pulled out and gone to the bathroom to clean up the after effects, he had just wanted to curl up on the bed and let the nightmares take him, but he couldn't move, it just hurt too much, both from the whipping and the sex. Fuck I hate this! I hate him and I hate this fucking weak body! He wanted to yell and scream to his father about how much he hated him for what he was doing to him, how much he hurt him day in and day out, but he didn't have the strength or the courage to do it. He felt so completely weak and vulnerable and he hated it.

While waiting for the throbbing pain to subside he heard his father enter the shower in the bathroom across the hall, he needed a shower too he reminded himself, his father's cum and his own blood was still running down his thighs and his stomach was plastered with his own cum. Disgusting. And as if that mental image was not enough the only thing he could smell around him was sex and the stench from his father's alcohol breath. It would have turned anyone's stomach around, but as he was so used to it by now he only felt disgusted by it because of his own weakness, and for not being able to stand up to the bastard.

Noticing he was able to move slightly again, he dragged himself onto the bed and curled up so to be in the most comfortable position he could find. Years of being beaten and raped had given him a lot of time to find out how to live through pain and how to avoid positions that would bring more pain than needed. It had become a part of his daily life now, in the beginning his father would only beat him, and occasionally use his belt to whip him. Then on his tenth birthday his father had said it was a birthday present and forced him onto the bed, stripped him and raped him. From there the whipping became more violent, the cuts got deeper and his father had to patch him up because he was unable to do it himself. The raping was not used for punishment until a while later when he had carelessly spoken his mind about the torture he was receiving. His father had tied him up against the wall and fucked him so hard he wasn't able to sit or stand for about a day afterwards. He was eleven then.

God I hate this and shit I really need a cigarette. Lifting his hands he reached into his pocket on his hoodie, which he was thankful to have left on, and fished out a cigarette. He knew his father hated it when he smoked in his room, but he didn't really mind it now, he wouldn't fuck him again tonight after this, and what was a couple of more punches, he was hurting anyway.

Lighting up and taking a deep drag he let the nicotine fill his lungs. The buzz helped him calm down a bit and he felt himself relax a bit more. His father was still in the shower, probably jerking off, he was always good for more rounds after he had fucked him. At least he had the decency to keep it to one go and not rip him anymore than he already did. Finishing the cig he finally felt the exhaustion from the day coming over him and after dropping the cig in the glass of water on the bedside table he drifted off into his normal nightmare filled sleep.

/Standing in front of him was the mirror; he was looking at his beaten body. He was bleeding, he could see that, and he knew why. The razor in his hand told him he was the one who had made the cuts on his forearms. Looking up, he saw his face, his lip was split from where his father had hit him and his chin was slightly swollen. "You're weak!" His reflection screamed at him and he knew it was true. He was weak. "Come on take the blade and end your pathetic life!" No, he didn't want to die, but his body wouldn't listen, he saw how his hand raised itself and placed the blade on his wrist and how it was dragged down hard in a vertical line along the skin. He wanted to stop, he didn't want this, he tried to scream for his body to stop but no noises would come. He watched as his blood dripped from his wound and he knew it was too late now, he had done the unspeakable. As the blood continued to flow he fell to floor and darkness came over him/

Waking up he noticed he was covered in sweat and his body was shaking. Just another dream huh... Looking around he noticed he was in his own room, he still had his hoodie on and his father had had the decency to put his boxer back on. Why fucking thank you for that, now it's gonna be covered with cum and blood. Cursing under his breath he sat up slowly, trying to minimize the pain shooting up his spine as he did so. On his bedside table his father had left some painkillers and a glass of water for him like usual. He took the pills and drained them together with the water in one go. Looking over to the watch it read 0515, three hours until school started. Well at least he had some time to get ready and presentable then and maybe he could get some homework done too.

When the painkillers started to kick in he slowly put his feet on the floor and got up. Stumbling slightly he reached the bathroom door, noticing the door into his father's room was open he quickly took a glance inside to make sure he hadn't woken him. He hadn't, letting out a sigh of relief he closed the door and went into the bathroom locking the door behind him. Another important thing he had learned the hard way. Taking off his clothes he looked himself in the full-body mirror, the damage from yesterday wasn't as bad as he had thought; his lip was split and his chin slightly swollen, his ribs wasn't aching so much anymore, though you could still see a slight hint of reddening from where his father had kicked him some days earlier. His forearms bore the signs of his recent cutting; though they weren't that deep he knew there would be some scarring later. Turning around he saw the marks of his father's leather belt red against his creamy white skin. There were still traces of blood and cum along his thighs and he didn't really dare to think about how he was going to take a shit later. Damn him if I need stitches again; fuck if I have to ask him to call her again.

He hated that he had had to go to an acquaintance of his father to get stitched up in the rear no more than six times this year, and four of them the last two months. She was paid to keep her mouth shut about it and so she did. Not even asking him about what it was his father was doing to him, but he guessed she knew and could not say anything on the matter. But either way it was humiliating, having to ask for someone to patch him up when his father got a bit too rough. Before he would be kind enough to at least use some type of lube and prep him first, but that was a while ago, when he was a bit younger. Now a days he would just thrust in without warning and keep on thrusting until he came, not bothering about the pain he would cause his son the next couple of days. Well, he was kind enough to give him a couple of painkillers in the morning to dull the pain enough for him to get through the day, so some humanity was still left in him at least.

Finishing the damage control he stepped into the shower, and he welcomed the hot water as it washed away the evidence of what was left from yesterday. Letting the spray hit his back helping him relax his sore shoulders and softening the tenseness in his muscles. Letting his mind drift as he thought of Vivi's slender waist, Nami's enormous breasts and Kaya's cute and oh so kissable lips. Damn, what would I do if those girls were single? Too bad Vivi is Khoza's, Nami is Luffy's and Kaya is Usopp's. It's just unfair how they can have such gorgeous girls and I have none. He stroked his member slowly imagining three of the most beautiful of flowers around him. It didn't take long until he found his release, panting slightly he cleaned himself once more and exited the shower.

He dressed in his usual attire, black skinny-fit jeans, studded belt, a fitted orange button-up shirt and a black west on top. His hair fixed so that it covered his left eye and applied some make-up to cover up his bruised chin where his hair didn't reach. It had taken him some time to learn how to do it, but at least it would be better than to have to answer how he got the bruise in the first place. He had usually answered that he got into a fight on his way home from work, but since his father had made it a daily activity, it was getting harder to find cover stories so he had given up and bought the make-up instead. Looking in the mirror again he found it acceptable, his shirt covered his arms well enough so the cuts didn't show, it hung loosely around his chest so it didn't irritate his tender ribs and his jeans were just loose enough so it didn't irritate his thighs too much. He put his victorian pocket watch in his jeans and hooked the chain to the belt hoop above. Looking at the watch it read 0610. Noticing he still had an hour and an half until he had to leave for school he made his way to the kitchen, knowing his father was expecting him to make him breakfast before leaving.

When breakfast was finished he rapped his father's in tinfoil and put it in the fridge, hoping he would be sleeping until he was gone. Looking at his watch again he still had an hour left, so he brought out his books and thought he might finish up some of next week's assignments, not that he really needed to, but the extra points would come in handy later. Once every couple of minutes he would strain his ears for the sound of his father waking up, but he only heard his snoring. Sighing in relief every time he noticed he really couldn't concentrate on his work so he gave up. Packing up his things he contemplated going to school early, he could always go to the library and study there.

To Father

I've gone to school a bit early; your breakfast is in the fridge, just take off the tinfoil and put it in the microwave for about two minutes and it should be fine. I have work after school so I will be home at 10pm.

Sanji.

Leaving the note on the kitchen counter where he knew his father would see it; he put on his black converse and left the house.