Hours had gone by or so it felt and Alvarez was still desperately trying not to think. Sat in the middle of the floor, knees drawn up with an arm on top, he kept lifting and dropping his head to elbow, his right hand picking at the floor. 'Ciento veinticuatro, ciento veinticinco, ciento veinticseis', he had responded, 'ciento veintis'….. Oh fuck it.

He gave up. His mind kept returning to that storage room. Counting didn't help, planning revenge hadn't helped. This was something he was going to have to figure out. Head rolling on now folded arms, he focused on what he knew.

There had been two of them and they must be from Em City to have managed to get into that storage room. Anyone from Gen Pop wouldn't have had a chance. Still, neither should these two. It had been planned and timed well. For them anyway. So, two prisoners from Em City. One who wanted Alvarez and one just along for the ride. A favour? Paying a debt? Or just liked to see someone get their arse done over?

Yet that hadn't happened. Whoever he was, he seemed to want Alvarez, not just the chance of a quick fuck, wanted or not. Well, Miguel did not want. His stomach turned over. He roared, getting to his feet and began pacing around the room. To the door, change direction, back to the door, change direction, interlocked hands pulling his head down. Around the room, turn go around again.

He'd never been tempted to have sex with another prisoner. So many turned to other inmates just due to lack of female contact. Some took by force. You could ask Beecher about that. Some called it love. You could ask him about that too. Not that you'd likely get an answer.

But he'd always managed to avoid the first. That is until now and couldn't imagine the second. So why had his body betrayed him? He'd been forcibly taken, convinced he would die. Then it had seemed he was to be taken in some sort of bondage fetish episode. But no, that hadn't happened either. Instead he'd been turned on.

Miguel headed into a corner, arms folded defensively across his waist. He felt sick. He pushed into the corner, rubbing his face hard into the filthy wall then sliding down, tight into a ball. He wanted to hide. In a room with nothing but a rusty bucket and patches of every bodily fluid imaginable, he still felt vulnerable. He supposed that that was the idea of throwing you naked into a cold disgusting room but that wasn't the reason. No. He already knew he couldn't trust anyone in this place. Now, he couldn't even trust his own body.

His mind he hadn't really trusted for a while now but this was a new betrayal.

He had been grabbed, tied and assaulted. He touched the back of his head. It was still painful from being smacked into that pillar. His arms were stiff and ached, his wrists sore from straining at the bindings but, through it all, he could still feel that soft tender kiss by his ear, that hand on his belly and, passing a hesitant finger over, yes, he found his nipples tender, tingling.

Kneeling, still facing into the corner, he ran his hands over his buttocks. They were bruised. Exploring, he found four small tender patches on each cheek, no doubt when he was pulled upwards just before the shank he'd not been able to use was found.

Losing his train of thought, he realised that he was still touching his butt, caressing it slowly. He placed a hand on his belly, middle finger dipping to brush the top of his prick. He pressed down hard, rubbing his finger back and forth. His other hand now pushed down on the back of his head as he continued to rub his cock feeling it beginning to rise.

He froze. What was he doing? Jerking off he had no qualms about but he was copying what had been done to him.

Elbow jammed into the corner, he leant on his hand, covering his face and let out a despairing sob.

Standing up violently, he began to pace once more, hands jammed under armpits, staring at the floor. The circling slowed and he found himself back in a corner, perhaps the same one. Arms extended, he placed both palms on the wall and stared down. He could practically feel his prick twitching to be touched, to be licked.

Left hand back on his belly again, he let the fingertips brush the top of his shaft playing through the dark wiry hair. He then ran his middle finger down to the head and back. He was repeating the action slowly, just like the tongue had, then fast, then agonisingly slowly, ending by cupping just the end in a loose fist. Not good enough.

At this moment, at this time, he wanted that warm soft mouth around his rising cock. He could imagine the whiskers brushing his thighs. He relaxed the arm to the wall, buried his face in the crook of his elbow and thrust his hips forwards, fucking his own fist. He drew back, plunged again. Repeating the motion he tightened his fist. The hand dry, it tugged at the sensitive skin adding pain to the sensations flooding his body from the groin. Good, he deserved pain; he should not be jerking himself off to fantasies of an unidentified male who used assault as a seduction method. And it shouldn't be working damn it!

He stopped the rapid movements sensing that if continued he would tear skin. He didn't need that much pain. Turning, shoulders braced against the wall, he circled the now leaking head with a delicate finger, spreading his precum then continued the motion with a palm.

A thought struck him making his penis jump. What would it be like to have a cock shoved up his ass? He had a momentary impulse to use his fingers in an attempt to find out then dismissed it with a sickened grunt at himself, despising that he should have thought of such a sickening notion, but still his aching prick begged attention.

Spitting onto his palm, he passed his curled hand up and down the shaft, pressing in along the top, paying particular attention to the spot just behind the head. He could feel the eruption forming, pressure building up. Throwing back his head, the wall connected with the already sore spot, pain shot through him as he spurted a jet of creamy fluid into the air to land feet away adding his own unique stain to the room. In his mind he heard the whispered words once more, "Next time my, Michel."

With an agonised roar he spurted his last and collapsed to the floor where he beat his fists in time to the pounding of his heart. He was going to find out who the bastard was and make him pay for making Miguel Alvarez react like this!

==000==

TBC...