Ratchet heard the Smuggler spit into his hand. His eyes were wide, his body growing numb in terror. He couldn't look at Clank. He was just barely keeping himself together. He knew if he saw him, saw that horrified look on his face, he would completely snap. He never wanted Clank to see him like this, this helpless, this broken. He needed to swallow his pride and do whatever he could to keep his friend alive.
The Smuggler hoisted his waist up, his ankles forced to bend back awkwardly to accommodate. It hurt, and he feared they may break, but he knew that would be nothing compared to the other pain he was about to endure. He let his head droop down to the floor, and wrapped his hands tightly around his chains, trying to prepare for it as much as he could. Ratchet felt something wet and blunt butt against his entrance.
"Ready for me, darlin'?" The Smuggler drawled.
Ratchet had never done this before, but he knew there was supposed to be more preparation than this. He knew it was going to hurt. It was going to hurt a lot. Ratchet bit his lip and tried to take a deep breath. He breathed in, held it, and began to push it back out. The Smuggler suddenly began entering him. That breath quickly and harshly went right back in. He could feel it inside him, just the tip of it. He was right, it hurt. It felt weird, uncomfortable, and it hurt. He tried to breathe again, to slowly take in more air, but gasped sharply, when the Smuggler buried himself deeper.
"Don't worry, darlin', I've got ya." The Smuggler murmured.
The Smuggler continued to push into him. Breathing exercises completely abandoned, Ratchet's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Fuck, fuck, it hurt so much! The Smuggler sat like that for a moment. Ratchet could feel himself stretched around him, his body twitching and straining to compensate for the sudden intrusion.
Then the Smuggler thrust.
Ratchet cried out. Loud and high pitched, from the back of his throat. His toes curled, his knees quaked. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt!
He thrust again and Ratchet screamed.
"That's it darlin' sing for me. You're so tight." The Smuggler murmured.
Ratchet screamed again, louder this time. He couldn't help it. It hurt, it hurt so fucking much! It felt like his insides were being shredded apart. How the Smuggler was able to glean any sort of pleasure from this, he had no idea. He must have been as insane a masochist as he was a sadist.
Ratchet felt like he was going to throw up, like he was going to pass out. He felt like he was dying. The blowjob before was nothing compared to this. There, he would have choked to death. Here? He would be fucked in half, organs ruptured and left to slowly bleed out. He almost wished he had died then, then he could be spared from this.
Suddenly, there was a different scream. So loud and strained it cut like a knife through the air. It caused Ratchet to look up, for the Smuggler to actually pause. It had been only one word, but cried out in such desperation, it had functioned like a spell, immediately acting as intended.
"STOP," Clank cried again, "No MORe!"
The robot shook in his binds so hard it seemed like he could nearly phase through them. His head twitched anxiously and erratically, exposed wires lighting up in time like a light show.
"PLEASe, please! HURt me instEAD IF YOu must, but LEAve RATCHet alone!"
"Clank…" Ratchet whispered hoarsely.
The Smuggler pulled out of Ratchet, letting him hit the floor harshly with a grunt. He pulled out his knife.
"If you're worried about me killing him, you don't have to, not now anyway. Once I sell you two off to the highest bidder, then you can plead to them for your life."
He stood over Clank, and fixed him with a dangerous look.
"But, if you insist."
The Smuggler swung his fist, slamming the butt of his knife into Clank's eye. The glass shattered, littering the ground in tiny green crystals.
"You bastard!" Ratchet roared.
"Scream all you want kiddo, it just turns me on," the Smuggler laughed, waving the knife in front of Clank, who shrank back from it. Ratchet growled.
"You're mine to do with as I please," He continued, before moving back over to Ratchet, "I decide what happens next. I decide where you go, what you do, and whether you live or die. Understand?"
Suddenly, Ratchet felt something warm and wet. It felt almost pleasant, like a warm shower, that is, if he wasn't horrifyingly aware of what it was. He coiled inwards, trying to shield himself as it cascaded down him. It quickly morphed from warm to frigid, seeping into his fur, and sticking to his skin. Its pungent odor made him gag.
"Understand?" He repeated, laughing savagely, "You're my bitch, now."
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