Learn to Lose

Arkin attempted to move but it didn't take more than a few jerks for him to understand he was restrained. His arms were bound behind his back and something metallic was digging into his ankle. It hurt and if he jerked his foot it heart more. It was like metal teeth biting into his flesh and there was a rattle similar to a chain. He figured it was some sort of modified cuff designed to not only immobilize but also cause pain. His arms also hurt but only because the binding was so tight. Some sort of rope was woven all the way up to his elbows and he couldn't move so much as a finger. His eyes were also covered and that was probably the most terrifying realization of all. Not being able to see, a sense so integral to his survival, was horrifying and Arkin was a man who'd experienced his fair share of terror. He was lying on his side on a concrete floor of sorts. It was dusty and Arkin resisted the urge to cough since the rippling movements would just serve to aggravate his injuries.

He recalled being cut by The Collector until he'd eventually passed out and while he was very aware of the dozens of sharp injuries he couldn't feel blood seeping out of them. Actually, upon further reflexion he though there was something like gauze wrapped around his chest and arms. Had The Collector treated his injuries? To anyone else this would seem like an act of kindness but Arkin knew better. He was just being kept alive to provide further entertainment and their current setting wasn't exactly sterile. The risk of infection was no small joke. Arkin listened as carefully as he could but he couldn't hear any tell-tale signs of his abuser. The only things he heard were some distant wailing of agony most definitely coming from another victim of the sick bastard and the occasional jingle of chains.

Arkin groaned as he tried again to sit up but it didn't go very far. He could endure the pain but saw no point in going through with it when he had no way of getting out of there. No, for the first time in close to a week he was alone with time to think and he had to take advantage of it. He had to order his thoughts before The Collector returned and began working on his again. Thinking was fucking impossible when the sadist was burning bits of his skin with a lighter just to see it sizzle. The best way for him to get away was via the red trunk since it was the only time The Collector walked away from him. Trying to make a run for it while inside this death trap of a house was almost certain suicide though with enough time he'd be desperate enough to try anything. He loathed the idea of playing bait so some other unfortunate sucker would be drawn down the inescapable rabbit hole but if he escaped then he could bring help. He could devote his remaining life to finding, catching and killing this monster made flesh.

A sudden noise far too close to him made Arkin still like a scared deer. He'd been wrong. He was not alone. He listened again but bar the small noise he was surrounded by silence again. This time however Arkin wouldn't be fooled. Another noise made him flinch then groan then still once the silence returned. This time the fucker had thrown a small object across the room in an attempt to mask his location and Arkin got his game. He was trying to make him paranoid and toy with him. What a sick joke!

'Where the fuck are you?! I know I'm not alone in the room so come on! Fucking to something or do you plan to just watch me like a sick creep?! Fucking pervert-!' The blow to his side caught him unawares though it really shouldn't have. He coiled in a tight arc as he rode the waves of pain stemming from his exposed midsection. Rough coughs shook him as The Collector paced around him, clearly no longer concerned with hiding his identity.

'So what happened? Did I hit the nail on the head?' Lisa always did say that Arkin didn't know when to shut up and as always, the woman was never wrong. The Collector was clearly not in the mood to be taunted and he proved his point by stamping on Arkin's ribs. There definitely was a snap and Arkin gasped, unable to do more than gulp down air as he was reintroduced to the agony of being a prized piece of this man's collection.

As he continued ridding out the pain, he felt The Collector's hand close around the nape of his neck and drag him like rag across the floor. He attempted to get to his knees but he couldn't by himself, not with a hurt ankle and a broken rib. He asked the man to stop but of course his plea fell on deaf ears until he was shoved back to the floor, face first. With no hands to cushion his fall, his chin bumped against the concrete and he felt his teeth rattle inside his skull. A little bit harder and they would have broken. Thankfully he hadn't snapped off his tongue but his chin was definitely busted. He felt blood run down in sticky, hot rivets and he spat out some more. A sluggish moan was cut off when The Collector yanked him to his knees by grabbing his upper arm in a vice like grip and silently warning him to stay there by applying considerable force to his shoulders. Arkin spat out another mouthful of blood but stayed put.

The Collector began moving around him, getting something which dragged along the floor. Arkin couldn't place the noise and there was a loud bang less than a foot from him. It took everything he had not to flinch away but he did cow, making himself just a little bit smaller. The Collector moved some more before everything ceased and Arkin was back inside that bubble of oppressive silence. He knew the man was right in front of him because he could smell him. He expected someone as monstrous as The Collector to stink of rot and decay but his smell was unnervingly normal. He wore no cologne as that could give away a hint to a personal preference. Arkin did detect hints of mint and formaldehyde and he shuddered to imagine what The Collector was preserving. There was also something else mixed in and this scent Arkin couldn't figure out. It was something distinctively The Collector and it set the fine hairs on the nape of his neck standing on edge. Subconsciously he'd probably already isolated this scent and filed it away in his subconscious as something to be terrified of. When he tried to focus on it, his brain roared at him to run. If only it were that easy.

Leather clad fingers grabbed his short hair and squeezed uncomfortably. His neck was forced back at a sharp angle and Arkin wondered if he was looking into the face of his attacker. He wondered if The Collector was even wearing his mask now that his victim was blinded. More fingers ran down his face, tracing his cheekbones and finally cupping his chin, pressing on the fresh cut with no regard for Arkin's comfort. He pried his mouth open and Arkin couldn't put up much of an opposition. He wondered if the Collector was going to make him eat roaches or something just to watch him squirm. Instead the killer shoved his fingers down his throat making Arkin gag from the shock as well as the act itself. The Collector touched along his teeth starting with his back molars, lingering on the empty spots where he'd personally had fun with some pliers, then focused on tracing his tongue, pulling on it with just enough force to make Arkin squirm. He'd seen the man tear out a tongue out before and he knew how little tolerance the serial killer had for back talk, yet Arkin had chance his luck anyway and perhaps Lady Fate was ready to collect. He squeezed his eyes shut, readying himself for the agony to come but The Collector released his verbal muscle moments later.

'What do you want from me?' Arkin whispered the question because he was so fucking tired of being in the dark. He didn't actually expect an answer but he felt compelled to ask anyway. The Collector eased up on his grip, allowing Arkin's head to fall at a more natural angle and he wished he could rub the back of his neck.

'Shhhh.' The command was a lot gentler than Arkin would have expected. He thought the man would snap once more, probably beat his face to a bloody pulp, but instead the man reinserted his fingers into his mouth, this time running two digits along his tongue in languid movements. At first Arkin wanted to spit them out but every time he tried the other hand dug into his scalp, warning him to stop or suffer the consequences. Arkin didn't know how long The Collector continued repeating his back and forth strokes but it was enough for him to become accustomed to it. The only time the other man stopped was when he removed the glove and Arkin was treated to his naked fingers running across his tongue. Compared to the leather they tasted nice, clean. Arkin felt himself fall into a trance, lolled by the repetitive action.

When it finally stopped Arkin actually whined at the loss, earning him a reassuring pat in response. He caught himself a moment later but the damage had been done. He'd let his abuser know that he was growing accustomed to his treatment and that was a big no-no. The collector opened his mouth again and kept his fingers on his jaw long enough for Arkin to get the memo. Keep it open. He heard the shuffle of clothing and something that sounded like a zipper and then yet another maddening pause during which Arkin kept his mouth dutifully open. It began to hurt and his bones ached but he dared not close it.

Finally he felt something move along the tip of his tongue again. It wasn't fingers and Arkin didn't know what to make of it. It was hot and salty. It pushed a little further along and it stretched his lips around an impressive girth. He fought to breathe as more of the foreign object pushed inside his mouth, throbbing along his tongue. The act continued until the tip of it could literally go no further and Arkin was blinking away tears. He wanted to clench his teeth since his jaw was in considerable discomfort but that would have been a terrible mistake, no matter how much he wanted to get back at The Collector. It was around the halfway mark that he understood what was violating his mouth and he would have gagged if he wasn't so focused on not suffocating. He must have genuinely struck a nerve when he called the sadist a pervert because he was certainly getting off on shoving his cock down a bound victim's throat. Nobody normal enjoyed this sort of shit with a non-consensual victim, not that Arkin needed any more proof to see how sick the killer was.

The thought of emasculating The Collector was almost too good to resist but in the end his need to self-preserve won. He didn't like sucking cock but this wasn't the first time he'd done it. During his time in the clink Arkin wasn't too proud of some things he'd had to do to survive. It wasn't about pleasure or want then and it wasn't about either of those things now. It was all about playing his part in order to keep breathing and with a bit of divine intervention, be free as well. The Collector stayed still for a moment until Arkin begun making distressed noises and he pulled back just in time for the thief to begin a violent bout of coughing. The Collector allowed him to recollect himself until Arkin began gasping lung-fulls of oxygen. Then his head was forced back up. Fingers hooked the corners of his lips and forced his mouth open so that uninvited length could invade him again. It moved along his tongue the same way the fingers previously had, slow and steady until it was almost comforting. Honestly Arkin was beginning to think more and more this creature was not human and his ability to stoically keep his member engorged for the long minutes it took to get Arkin's defences completely down was downright impressive.

At some point in time Arkin couldn't quite pinpoint, he'd begun leaning into the thrusts and that's when The Collector deemed him ready. The thrusts increased in pace and the hand on the back of his head began to push him along as well. Arkin didn't bother to fight it since he couldn't even begin to attempt winning. In his experience sometimes it was smarter to learn when to lose. He could feel the friction of his own blood running across his lips, mixing with precum and saliva, but didn't linger on the thought.

He could tell the man was getting closer and closer to his release from the frantic increase in pace. The hand on the back of his head was holding him in place how, the killer's hips doing all the work. The Collector was fucking into Arkin's mouth, chasing his pleasure while the thief tried to hold on. Each breath was shallower and shallower and he was getting dizzy. This would be one pathetic way to go. Choked to death on a sociopath's cock. RIP Arkin O'Brian. Fortunately the hectic pace began to lose its consistency and Arkin heard an almost inhuman growl, his only warning before hot ribbons of cum shot down his throat. He was forced to swallow it down and he did so while The Collector clenched and unclenched the fingers tangled in his hair. They were meant as a reassuring gesture and strangely enough it helped Arkin as he used his tongue to clean the Collector's member, knowing the man wouldn't take it out of his mouth until he did so. When the member left his lips with an obscene pop, Arkin dared hope this was the last of it but he should have known better than to hope.

He felt a jab, as quick as the sting of a wasp, along his neck. He'd felt tired before but now he was exhausted on a whole new level. His skin itched and sagged, beginning to weigh him down as if he'd been injected with led. His head bowed under its own weight and he swayed it from side to side like a drunk. He expected for his face to get another face full of concrete but something else caught him and lifted him, causing no small amount of pain to shoot up his ribs and ankle. He couldn't even begin to guess where The Collector was bringing him next but he felt hopeful that it wouldn't be to his death. Arkin was sure he'd made himself useful to his abuser, judging from the salty taste heavy on his tongue and while he didn't look forwards to a repeat there were very few things he wouldn't do to escape this man's collection. If only to spite him like no other victim ever had, Arkin would suck The Collector's cock every night if it meant one day he got to cut it off and shove it down its owner's throat. Despite the terrible circumstances, Arkin fell into a sated slumber filled with hopeful dreams rather than traumatic nightmares.