"I want him dead." Agamemnon growled. It had been hours since he had heard the tell tale sounds from Achilles' tent and fury still engulfed him.
"But my lord, would it not be more.....satisfying, if we let the prince suffer? Also, his body is very pleasing, if you get my drift....." the surly warrior spoke silkily. He knew that his king wanted to kill Paris, and he was more than willing to agree, but not after they had put Paris to use.
The king nodded. "Yes.....it would be an excellent opportunity to break Achilles."
"How would we get him out of the camp?" the warrior, who went by Christopher, asked.
"I will find a way.....maybe confine him in my tent and have guards all around him? We do not have to tell him of the rat's torment." Agamemnon suggested, his cruel mind reeling.
"Excellent. When do you need this done?"
"Tonight. Just after dusk. Capture him and give him hell." the king ordered. "I will order Achilles here before you begin the attack."
"When should we stop the abuse, my lord?" Christopher questioned, truly enjoying where this conversation was going.
Agamemnon grinned. "Don't. Violate him until he dies. Do not be afraid to be rough."
Christopher bowed. "As you wish, my king." With that he left the tent.
"And he requests my presence why?" Achilles questioned, venom in his voice. Paris stood behind his new found lover, listening closely.
The guard smiled. "He orders your presence. He told me not to speak of his purpose."
Achilles turned to Paris. "I shall be back soon, Paris." Paris nodded, and watched Achilles walk out of the tent.
Moments later, 2 huge men burst into the tent and grabbed the former prince. Paris struggled, but the weight of the men overpowered him.
"Unhand me!" Paris commanded, but his voice shook.
The one with black hair snarled, and Paris recognized him as the man who had tormented him before. "I think not, Paris. You have been found out by the king, and you will pay."
Paris' eyes widened in fear and sweat began to form on his brow.
The men dragged him out of the tent and stuffed a gag into his mouth. They walked for sometime until they came to a large campsite with many men gathered around. Angry but excited shouts of obscene names were directed at Paris and he stiffened.
"Paris, the king had ordered us to kill you for your sins." Christopher shouted, and Paris tensed, fear coursing through his veins.
"Only, you are much to pretty a gem to pass us by. We will have you as many times as it takes for you to find death." Christopher whispered into Paris' ear, delighting in the shudder that passed through the younger man.
Abruptly, he pushed Paris to the ground and began ripping his robe off of him. Paris struggled, but again, the weight was too heavy. He shouted for help, anything, but was silenced by a heavy blow to his head.
When Christopher thrust himself into Paris, a soft, broken wail left his lips. The excruciating pain made him feel faint. He cried out softly for the man to stop, but he was lost in his own pleasure at Paris' body.
After the warrior reached his peak inside of Paris, he pulled out roughly. Paris thanked the Gods that the assault had stopped for some time. But, his hopes were crushed as he saw another man approach him and began to disrobe.
"Nooooo.....don't....." Paris sobbed. He wasn't sure he could survive another onslaught. Nothing he did stopped the man before him, though, as he started another invasion.
"Let me out this instant!" Achilles yelled, angered to know he was trapped in the king's tent. Agamemnon had never been in the tent, and to Achilles' dismay, four large, burly warriors blocked the entrance.
His instincts told him that something had happened to Paris, and if these guards didn't let him out he would kill them.
The first agonized scream rang through the air, and following that was loud pleading. Achilles recognized Paris' voice. A blinding, cold fear coursed through his veins.
He walked up to the guards and hissed, "If you want to live, let me go from this tent." Achilles did not expect the hard blow that came from the warrior's large fist. It knocked the wind out of him and he stumbled.
Achilles felt helpless as he heard Paris' anguished moans fill the air. He did not have his weapons with him; he was helpless.
His fear blinding him, he took off at a run towards the guards. One put up their shield and Achilles' hit it right on. Letting out a quiet groan of pain, Achilles backed down.
It seemed like hours before Achilles made up his mind. He gave a hard punch to the one guard and grabbed his sword. He swiftly stabbed and killed each one of the, and left the tent, searching for Paris.
(A/N: This is slightly before Achilles escapes)
"No.....please, stop, no!" The pain was so unbearable that Paris felt no shame in begging. He felt his insides being torn and tears ran down his face. He did not stifle his desperate screams anymore. The enormous man above him groaned with pleasure and pounded into him hard, making blood flow freely out of Paris' abused passage. Paris screamed Achilles' name between agonized wails.
After the second man reached his climax inside of him, Paris passed out for a brief period of time. The aches in and on his body were too much.
The darkness was comforting. The hurt seemed to have ceased for a time.
More searing pain jerked Paris back to consciousness. He wearily opened his brown eyes and saw a different man moving above him. The horrible ache that twisted his body had worsened tenfold, and he heard shouts and yells of delight from the Greek men around him. Paris let out a loud scream when the man who was taking him thrust brutally.
What seemed like hours passed. Paris was barely conscious. Rough, hard kisses made his lips bleed and ruthless, barbaric touches on his body made bruises appear. Paris felt himself slipping into permanent darkness.
Achilles....where was he.....
'I love you, Achilles.....' Paris thought to himself, but stopped his thoughts were interrupted by his own loud moan of distress.
Everything was fogging up. He no longer heard the taunts and laughter of the Greeks. All he knew was the misery.
Then.....he heard a furious shout fill the air. He thought he heard someone shout his lover's name, but couldn't be sure. He just felt the third man pull out of him.
Paris was sure he heard his own name being called, but couldn't be sure. Black fog engulfed him, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.
Achilles wiped the blood off of the guard's sword on one of the dead corpse's clothing. Fury and devastation ran through his shaking body at seeing Paris being violated and hurt. He prayed that he was not too late.
He ran to his lover, and choked back a sob.
Blood covered Paris' long legs and body. Dark bruises were all over his slender form, marring the perfect golden skin. Scratches decorated his shoulders and back.
Paris' face was deathly pale and his lips were cracked and bleeding. His silky curls were matted and mussed.
The young man had obviously endured many violations and rape.
Achilles knelt down and carefully, very tenderly, gathered Paris into his arms.
"Paris.....Paris, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Achilles sobbed, and gently cradled his lover's broken body in his arms. "Please forgive me. Please do not die.....do not leave me."
He looked to the heavens. "Don't take Paris away from me, please. I'm so sorry that I killed all of those men, so sorry that I had to be a murderer. You took Patroclus away from me.....please do not take Paris from me," Achilles pleaded with the Gods, tears streaming down his handsome face.
Achilles shakily pressed a kiss to Paris' brow. "I love you so much, my Paris. I have so much love for you.....do not leave me alone, beloved. Please....."
To be continued. Will not post next chapter if I don't get any reviews! HINT
"But my lord, would it not be more.....satisfying, if we let the prince suffer? Also, his body is very pleasing, if you get my drift....." the surly warrior spoke silkily. He knew that his king wanted to kill Paris, and he was more than willing to agree, but not after they had put Paris to use.
The king nodded. "Yes.....it would be an excellent opportunity to break Achilles."
"How would we get him out of the camp?" the warrior, who went by Christopher, asked.
"I will find a way.....maybe confine him in my tent and have guards all around him? We do not have to tell him of the rat's torment." Agamemnon suggested, his cruel mind reeling.
"Excellent. When do you need this done?"
"Tonight. Just after dusk. Capture him and give him hell." the king ordered. "I will order Achilles here before you begin the attack."
"When should we stop the abuse, my lord?" Christopher questioned, truly enjoying where this conversation was going.
Agamemnon grinned. "Don't. Violate him until he dies. Do not be afraid to be rough."
Christopher bowed. "As you wish, my king." With that he left the tent.
"And he requests my presence why?" Achilles questioned, venom in his voice. Paris stood behind his new found lover, listening closely.
The guard smiled. "He orders your presence. He told me not to speak of his purpose."
Achilles turned to Paris. "I shall be back soon, Paris." Paris nodded, and watched Achilles walk out of the tent.
Moments later, 2 huge men burst into the tent and grabbed the former prince. Paris struggled, but the weight of the men overpowered him.
"Unhand me!" Paris commanded, but his voice shook.
The one with black hair snarled, and Paris recognized him as the man who had tormented him before. "I think not, Paris. You have been found out by the king, and you will pay."
Paris' eyes widened in fear and sweat began to form on his brow.
The men dragged him out of the tent and stuffed a gag into his mouth. They walked for sometime until they came to a large campsite with many men gathered around. Angry but excited shouts of obscene names were directed at Paris and he stiffened.
"Paris, the king had ordered us to kill you for your sins." Christopher shouted, and Paris tensed, fear coursing through his veins.
"Only, you are much to pretty a gem to pass us by. We will have you as many times as it takes for you to find death." Christopher whispered into Paris' ear, delighting in the shudder that passed through the younger man.
Abruptly, he pushed Paris to the ground and began ripping his robe off of him. Paris struggled, but again, the weight was too heavy. He shouted for help, anything, but was silenced by a heavy blow to his head.
When Christopher thrust himself into Paris, a soft, broken wail left his lips. The excruciating pain made him feel faint. He cried out softly for the man to stop, but he was lost in his own pleasure at Paris' body.
After the warrior reached his peak inside of Paris, he pulled out roughly. Paris thanked the Gods that the assault had stopped for some time. But, his hopes were crushed as he saw another man approach him and began to disrobe.
"Nooooo.....don't....." Paris sobbed. He wasn't sure he could survive another onslaught. Nothing he did stopped the man before him, though, as he started another invasion.
"Let me out this instant!" Achilles yelled, angered to know he was trapped in the king's tent. Agamemnon had never been in the tent, and to Achilles' dismay, four large, burly warriors blocked the entrance.
His instincts told him that something had happened to Paris, and if these guards didn't let him out he would kill them.
The first agonized scream rang through the air, and following that was loud pleading. Achilles recognized Paris' voice. A blinding, cold fear coursed through his veins.
He walked up to the guards and hissed, "If you want to live, let me go from this tent." Achilles did not expect the hard blow that came from the warrior's large fist. It knocked the wind out of him and he stumbled.
Achilles felt helpless as he heard Paris' anguished moans fill the air. He did not have his weapons with him; he was helpless.
His fear blinding him, he took off at a run towards the guards. One put up their shield and Achilles' hit it right on. Letting out a quiet groan of pain, Achilles backed down.
It seemed like hours before Achilles made up his mind. He gave a hard punch to the one guard and grabbed his sword. He swiftly stabbed and killed each one of the, and left the tent, searching for Paris.
(A/N: This is slightly before Achilles escapes)
"No.....please, stop, no!" The pain was so unbearable that Paris felt no shame in begging. He felt his insides being torn and tears ran down his face. He did not stifle his desperate screams anymore. The enormous man above him groaned with pleasure and pounded into him hard, making blood flow freely out of Paris' abused passage. Paris screamed Achilles' name between agonized wails.
After the second man reached his climax inside of him, Paris passed out for a brief period of time. The aches in and on his body were too much.
The darkness was comforting. The hurt seemed to have ceased for a time.
More searing pain jerked Paris back to consciousness. He wearily opened his brown eyes and saw a different man moving above him. The horrible ache that twisted his body had worsened tenfold, and he heard shouts and yells of delight from the Greek men around him. Paris let out a loud scream when the man who was taking him thrust brutally.
What seemed like hours passed. Paris was barely conscious. Rough, hard kisses made his lips bleed and ruthless, barbaric touches on his body made bruises appear. Paris felt himself slipping into permanent darkness.
Achilles....where was he.....
'I love you, Achilles.....' Paris thought to himself, but stopped his thoughts were interrupted by his own loud moan of distress.
Everything was fogging up. He no longer heard the taunts and laughter of the Greeks. All he knew was the misery.
Then.....he heard a furious shout fill the air. He thought he heard someone shout his lover's name, but couldn't be sure. He just felt the third man pull out of him.
Paris was sure he heard his own name being called, but couldn't be sure. Black fog engulfed him, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.
Achilles wiped the blood off of the guard's sword on one of the dead corpse's clothing. Fury and devastation ran through his shaking body at seeing Paris being violated and hurt. He prayed that he was not too late.
He ran to his lover, and choked back a sob.
Blood covered Paris' long legs and body. Dark bruises were all over his slender form, marring the perfect golden skin. Scratches decorated his shoulders and back.
Paris' face was deathly pale and his lips were cracked and bleeding. His silky curls were matted and mussed.
The young man had obviously endured many violations and rape.
Achilles knelt down and carefully, very tenderly, gathered Paris into his arms.
"Paris.....Paris, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Achilles sobbed, and gently cradled his lover's broken body in his arms. "Please forgive me. Please do not die.....do not leave me."
He looked to the heavens. "Don't take Paris away from me, please. I'm so sorry that I killed all of those men, so sorry that I had to be a murderer. You took Patroclus away from me.....please do not take Paris from me," Achilles pleaded with the Gods, tears streaming down his handsome face.
Achilles shakily pressed a kiss to Paris' brow. "I love you so much, my Paris. I have so much love for you.....do not leave me alone, beloved. Please....."
To be continued. Will not post next chapter if I don't get any reviews! HINT