Hi guys! Are you okay? I hope so! Thanks for all the reviews.
A quick observation: yes I changed my username.
I know it's been weeks since the episodes but need to say: 9x03 was great, Jay's story with Knox explains a lot of his morals and justice sense and why he doesn't talk about the Army and Jesse's acting was speechless. 9x04 - what an extraordinary episode and phenomenal Jesse's and Tracy's acting! Especially Tracy's. That's why CPD is my favorite series and our lovebirds are my favorite actors and people in the whole world. A cruel case...Hailey's panic attack...Jay fuming and spilling rage at Voight...the punch...the end...heartbreaking...I'm still speechless and processing the happenings. 9x05: Can the writers find a love interest for Kevin? He has passed through so much and deserves happiness! And the whole situation reminded me of Camilla and Jay in season 5...no! Can Vanessa return, please? 9x06: Indeed, I wasn't able to watch fully but I saw parts and I love it. Adam being a dad, I didn't know I needed it until now. And that detective was suspicious from the beginning. About 9x07: Geez OMG please don't fire Jay. I don't think Voight will do but...you know...is CPD, everything can happen.
References to CPD 3x05 will be in this chapter.
Warnings: mentions and words related to bullying, rape, sexual object, drug use, abstinence crisis's symptoms.
Anyways, what about we go to the chapter? Let's go!
5 hours of the trip
The rattle of the fast van passing through a worn-out speed bump or a giant hole made his cut back collide on the side of the van and a sudden stop alerted him to danger. They were moving, changing locations. Where did they stop? The gas station, the gasoline smell is his indication. He opens his eyes and observes his surroundings. He is lying on his side on the no window back of an apparent van, still naked, the bruises all over his battered body become an awful yellow monotone, crusts of congealed blood filled the whip's cuts from end to end, and with each movement, it tugged ardently at his skin, his wrists are restrained in front of him to the ground side of the van, limiting his movements to a little wriggle room to curl up in a ball and sit. Sweating cold and shivering from the scare, a freezing wind invading his naked body, the stomach growling with hunger and the mouth lamenting the scarcity of water - by the way, when was the last time he ate and drank something? - he subconsciously activated his survival mode and knew he needed to escape. In theory, the best moment is now, his ears aren't registering any voice, meaning he is alone, or he is too numb to discern it. Holy shit. His body and his mind are too numb. Those damn drugs are doing a number on him and taking him to the limit of patience and vulnerability. He can't be drugged anymore.
However, in a place in the back of his mind whispers for him to do something on his power to a new round of the miracle drug, his eyes water, his feet tingle, and his teeth grind of desire...no, no, no, abstinence crisis's symptoms. His years of experience as a cop made him easily identify. He tries to scream for a minimum chance to alert the passers-by of his miserable condition but he can't. He is gagged, a big red ball full of his saliva checking him, and the maxilla is sore for the time involuntarily opened. Sick sons of a bitches, he internally curses. Kicking the metal awkwardly and frantically is unworthy, the van didn't even move a centimeter and he was feeling out of air. The gag plus the high dose of drugs had weakened his force to a minimum and his vulnerability to a maximum. Suddenly, the back door opened. Nathan enters, throwing the strong incandescent light of a flashlight right in his face and blinding him until he is face to face with him.
"Hey sweet, it isn't time yet. We just stopped for a snack!" Another syringe appears in his line of vision on his hand.
"Pls no...no" he screams through the gag, anxiety taking over him to a mere thought of being drugged.
"You don't want to be drugged, whore?" Nod vehemently. "So be obedient and shut the fuck mouth of yours while I ungagged you or a soul could join us here and are plenty of outside." He smiles at the instant submission of the captive. "That's what I thought." He works on the gag as promised and equally not surprisingly the cop kept the vow and the silence. Well, his mouth kept but not his stomach growling. "Someone is hungry."
"Yes...master" he whispers, questioning himself if he should have said something after the threat or had done right in affirming the true statement in his terms.
"No wonder, you haven't eaten for a day." That explains a lot. "I bought a sandwich, juice, and water for the trip. When we get to the house, you will eat more quantity and more nutritious food." He says smirking mockingly because nevertheless to say the lie and irony were known while opening from the packaging. The risk of the food is medicated and in his normal condition he would never and ever accept food from a criminal, he took down his pride and permitted being fed to satisfy his necessary body. Although his desire was for onion meat with barbecue sauce or a pizza or a heavy hamburger and bottles of beers to satisfy hunger then the simple sandwich, juice, and water offered, for now, was enough to increase strength and chances of escape. That's when the quiet unknown henchman and Mrs. Bunker entered the front seat, the last one devouring and fucking him with the grey sights. "We should get back to the road to arrive early," Nathan says while picking the knife previously used on his mark.
"Yeah, we should to me fuck him early." He chuckles and turns to the front, Jay shivers entirely and prays for a high transit or anything to delay as much as possible the arrival.
As it has been invoking like a spirit, the excruciating pain from the burn mark has attitude and manifested, he closes his eyes and jaw tightly, works on stabilizing his breathing, and searches for distraction amongst. The drive was excruciatingly anguished. He registered each speed bump, each hole, each semaphore's stop, each corner turned, each street's sound, each street's scent, each meter converted in kilometers, each second converted in minutes, each information he could save onto his pathetic memory. After approximately 3 kilometers and 30 minutes of roading - if his accounts were right what he vehemently doubts as he already forgot the results of the other aspects - the van stopped for once. His only movement is to widen his eyes and feel a cold metal touch on his temple. Mrs. Bunker.
"Your master is releasing you. Just an alert: do not try to run and fight or I have a gun and I won't hesitate in using."
"'I have a gun and I won't hesitate in using'. What a childish argument." He repeats, imitating the grave tone and mocking, unable to contain himself before taking knowledge of the force on his comic phrases in his actual scenario. Nathan throws an advert bloodied look and is about to reprimand when the older man laughed and squeezed painfully the nerve on the dislocated shoulder, Jay wincing in pain.
"He is hilarious, I adore his audacity. Go rest for tomorrow night, Nathan, let me and my boys deal with this piece of shit here. It will be a pleasure!" A silent Nathan unlocks the handcuffs, and, after a gentle slap and a kiss on his lips, goes out of the van."Boys." Two black-bearded tall muscular black men, identical as twins, and a glasses tinier muscular brunette black man vested like bodyguards simultaneously covered the entire back. "Grab him." As simultaneous as they arrive, robotically the tallest grab each leg and push him outside. The sunlight blinds his no-used eyes and incapacitates him from fighting back before they grab his arms, the smaller leading the way to the front.
When used to the light, he horrifiedly observes the stunning surroundings. Through high canopies and thick perfectly lined tree trunks, the stunning gigantic wine mansion, analog to Fort Knox, with thousands of front windows, a heavy, highest-quality ipe door being guarded by other two men in suits, black glasses, and a long weapon, and Greco-Roman white columns spread along the front, containing more armed guards in each one, emerged above a stairway divided to either side of the seemingly 5 meters tiled paths he was standing on at the beginning with his newest kidnappers. Does he have an idea how much the mansion costs? He does know it costs more than he can afford, his salary would never permit such an investment. On a vacation trip, it would be a genuine present to rest in this paradise. The house is a free, undesirable unpleasant ticket to Hades' home. He blushes disgusted as he feels the distant guard's stare at his naked silhouette provocatively, some making impressed expressions, others lowering the glasses, and others biting and passing the fingertips sexually the lips, and he tries to curl up and protect his genitals. He had never felt so vulnerable.
His instincts scream to outside his human being to not reach the mansion anyway and he starts battling the firm grip in his arms as he is being dragged into the entrance. He is capable of launching his bare feet into one henchmen's knee, who let go of him to hug the injury and a fist into the other henchmen's face, drawing blood from the cut lip. As he was about to start running into the forest, a big black hand covered his mouth, his head is thrown against the kneeled injured man and he presses a knife against his throat. The rich businessman clicks his tongue as walks in his direction, sounding disappointed and pissed at parents reprimanding the disobedient son or daughter.
"Headstrong bitch! When will you learn your damn place and behave accordingly?"
"NEVER!" he screams and spills right in his fancy leather shoe. "FUCK YOU!" Furious emerges from inside from the exterior of the man and Jay tenses his muscles for a potential attack that didn't come at all. Instead, light white material is thrown at his face. Underwear.
"I see your discomfort by the looks. Consider this as a gratitude act. Put this on." he says, nodding to the man to free him while pointing the gun at him. With difficult breath and much effort, Jay hesitantly follows the man's order and puts the underwear on, nevertheless to say he is feeling a bit more comfortable despite all the situation. He looks behind at the direction of the guards, some still have interest in his form, others lose interest, looking away. Nauseate. A kick on his knees made him fall to the floor by his hands and the mansion's owner guards his gun and makes him look above. "Don't think I forget what you have done here but we have arrived. I'm fucking you and...I'm sure my guys want to play with you for a while as your punishment. Pick him!"
"What? No, no, please, anything but that!" with a ninja technique, both injured men hastily grab and drag him inside.
After a long and difficult drag to the mansion, Jay stops his instigating worthless riot when he comes across the interior. If the exterior is extraordinary, the interior is stunningly goldenly luxurious and elegant. Right at the entrance, a spiral staircase leads to the upper floors of the high-ceilinged mansion, visibly highest quality comfortable furniture behind the stairs where he ponders the living room, pictures with people and vases of various sizes and shapes with the worn-out old-fashioned gilt frame, hunting bounty and hunting weapons hanging all over the walls, and more armed guards like the outside walking around the halls or whispering in groups about obviously him. Unless there are more in the non-visible parts of the fortress, there are 23 guards in total. It will be so easy to escape, he thinks ironically. He tries to crane his neck to search for an escape route or an unprotected weapon but the guards pull him to a side wooden door, also with a golden frame - what a sick fascination and hell's disastrous gold taste for orientation the filth of wealth. Upon opening the doors, the bright-lit and chic environment like solstice day are replaced by the usual darkest and poorest darkness that inhabits the house's basement, the simple endless staircase, lit by a single dim lamp swinging from side to side in a hypnotizing rhythm, led to an equally dark and frightening corridor but nothing out of the ordinary in the way of the prison of all the kidnappings in his life until the owner steps in front to open the right door in the dead-end corridor.
"Make yourself at home, bitch!" The bodyguard pushes him inside, he collides his knees and hands on the floor and hastily closes the door with a bang. "Don't enjoy being lonely so much, I'm right back." He hears laughs and the three kidnappers' steps walking away from the locked door.
He attentively studies the room. Besides the filthy, red bucket and the tiny window just to say there's a hole illuminated by the sun, the prison is empty. Looking at the bucket, an urge to pee grows. Impulsively, he made and felt physically relieved, mentally not. As he quickly climbs into his underwear, he screams in pain as the thin cloth rubs the initials marked on his torso. As he predicted, it's bright red with pus' bubbles among contrasting with the purplish-yellow bruises from the beating and the memories of the burning red blade ripping through the skin, the pain radiating from head to toe, his screams of agony mixed with the torturers' hysterical laughter inundate her mind like a tsunami. He grabs his head and searches for a camera, the preceding feeling of vigilance is fulfilled again to his being. He should have made this before peeing. He let his guard down. He can't underestimate these criminals and what they can have in store for him.
For a celebration, I invited them to a party tomorrow. You are going to be the fucktoy for me and my guests!
He keeps reviving the phrases. Defeated by the lack of what to do and by the most horrifying torture, which is not pain inflicted itself, it is the endless wait for when it will come, he starts walking frantically and quickly in circles, his thoughts running a million miles an hour. He has to focus on something else. Focus on the information he had collected of the trip and mansion's description...for what? To give to who? He doesn't have a team. He hasn't someone looking out for him. He won't be found. He is on his own now. Will understandably walked out. Erin understandably walked out. Antonio understandably walked out. Alvin understandably walked out. Kim understandably walked out. Mouse understandably walked out. Adam understandably walked out. Kevin understandably walked out. Trudy understandably walked out. Everyone understandably walked out. They were so furious. They blame you. They hate you. They told me how insignificant you are. How worthless you are. How you were always a burden to carry around. How bored they were about having you around. How they never considered you their family but, their merit, they fooled you so good you had believed. How suck you are as a cop. How suck you are as a friend, brother, partner and boyfriend. How much they wish you had died. Let's be straight, boy, have you ever thought they loved you? Have you ever thought they care about you? When I told my plans, they couldn't express in words their gratitude for me to stay forever with you and show what we agreed that you are really born for. You are worthless. You are a burden. You are a shame. You don't deserve to be loved. You deserve to be fucked. You are just my fucktoy, my whore, my bitch meant to beg on your knees for my cock in your holes. Voight is dead. Voight's lifeless body lay on his back in a pool of blood under him from a single shot on his head.
He chokes a scream with his arm. He needs to forget them, forget himself, forget his state, forget his worthlessness, forget the kidnapping, forget the torture, forget the mark, forget the rape, forget the words, forget the shame, forget the sadness overcoming him, forget the premature death, forget the understandable hate of his loved previous family, forget everything with an intense numbness' sensation, intenser than any beer or whiskey's cold liquid can bring to the drinker and he knows the exact way to do so and what he needs. An old sensation and for a new round of the miracle drug traveling in his veins calming his soul and shutting down the tragic world he lives on warms his cold body, makes his breathing increase, his body sweat cold, his eyes water, his feet tingle, and his teeth grind of desire...no! Not again. He falls against the opposite door's wall and screams his lungs out as his mental walls break down and tears streamed down his face. He has suffered a lot before, he had grown all the hurtful memories before, he was trained to withstand pain like it was nothing, he should be used to pain, both physically and mentally, but years of repetition and swallowing down his throat turns too much to handle. Screaming and crying for the understandable hate of his loved previous family. Screaming and crying for the premature death. Screaming and crying for the words, the shame, the worthlessness, the sadness overcoming. Screaming and crying for the kidnapping, the torture, the mark, the pain, the rape. Screaming and crying for being vulnerable and useless, letting his walls down more than once in front of criminals. Screaming and crying. He did until heavy footsteps and the noise of a door opened.
"Easy, whore, easy, let me have the privilege of making you hoarse from crying out with my cock inside your little ass and mouth." The rich businessman says, carrying a suitcase written Bunker in gold letters in the front, while the two presumed twin offenders walk in his direction, whose eyes flash with fury at the wounds inflicted on arrival. He starts to crawl backward with feet and hands, back against the wall all the time, to evade the touch until he is ambushed in the corner.
"Get off me, motherfuckers!" He tries to struggle in the grip but is stopped with burning, typically from a slap, on his cheek.
"Get him on his knees." The video game's characters obey the command and do it, the one who had received the kick on his respective part chuckles quietly pleasantly. "Did you forget what your master said: you obey him, me, our guys and guests, pretty boy." He repeats what was told hours ago where they were as calmingly and cold-blooded unlocks the locks and opens the briefcase. He unrolls a small chain connected to a wide fluffy leather black handcuff and ties firmly in a crack at the end of the wall, looking defiantly and malevolently at the intrigued curious prisoner of the room motion. "Excited to assume your slut role, boy?" They drag a kneeled reluctant furious hostage to the stretched-out position the older wanted on the floor and, once positioned, he tied his hand to the object. Returning to the briefcase, he takes out a black collar, which was written slut in silver, but before he could put it, he delights and gets extremely hard in the boy's horrified puppy baby blue look and writhing due to the welts in his back. "Man, you are making it unbearably hard. Let's test out the function first."
'You know, we could always give one a test drive.'
'Test out the...function?'
'I hope we're talking about the same thing.'
"No, leave me alone." Memories of his conversation with Erin as he helped her choose the sofa in her new apartment after her spiral down flooded his mind, closing his eyes to the black man undressing one by one himself to nothing. He shouldn't have opened but his observant instincts reached and he opened his eyes and almost passed out of the vision. If Nathan's member is respectably big, his is immense. It captured full attention, the head reddens, the testicles swollen in desire, and pre-ejaculatory fluids smeared over to the tip. He drags his long nails over the bare muscular legs until reaching the hem's underwear and puts it down, throwing further, compressing and pinning his body to the ground by pinning the prisoner's sides between his legs and leaning over him sufficiently to whisper.
"Tomorrow night we are having the party and you are being the fucktoy." he breathes heavily and murmurs sensually coarsely, driving his big black hands over the prisoner's bruised torso. "There will be plenty of people anxious to play but since the master told me about you...after seeing you…You are one hell of a kind, I didn't know the police contracted bitch to work inside." He giggles. "I'm as anxious to bury my cock inside your tight ass. You're all mine to play with." He teases the beneath man.
"Look...I know you think it'll help you...but it won't...let me go and I swear I can reduce your sentence!" Embarrassed and left without a choice, he tries to plead, a hopeful sentinel of cases settled in legal prosecution agreements however the top men's wild laugh is an unquestionable and unnecessary disagreement.
"You're all mine fucktoy to play with now. You are participating in this as well." A suggestive smirk and his predator-eagle eyes make him shallow dry as his powerful right-hand slides down his sternum to palm the unclothed and flaccid member. "Get hard for me, whore!" The man starts rubbing it.
"Fuck." Jay, despite his effort to keep silent, moans, flushes at the touch, and whispers a curse, condemning his body for reacting positively at the torturer. A new wave of betrayal and disappointment overwhelms him. He is about to betray and disappoint everyone for the second time. Betray and disappoint the team, his former team, cumming into the host's hands and not being able to do his goddam police work or provide a minimum of difficulty for his newest rapist. Betray and disappoint Erin, the love of his life, cumming into not just one but a second rapist's hands. Betray and disappoint Voight, his dead boss, cumming into the host's hands of his murderer and him, the reason for his death. Betray and disappoint himself in contradicting all the physical healed not forgotten injuries and psychological not healed either forgotten traumas, names, the monsters from his childhood he got over the years by many people in his life. How could you think anyone could love you? You are nothing but trouble! Hadn't you realized yet everybody among you walks away and you are the motive, your insignificant kid! Why do you just kill yourself? It would be better for the world!
"You are handsome." Still rubbing hard and fast the boy raped's penis, he delivers a line of kisses down on Halstead's chest and adjusts himself at the ass' entrance, "You are being so good to me, getting deliciously hard. Let me use you now." and inserts his pre-ejaculating hard member into him.
"AAAAAAAAAA Fuck!" Jay throws his head back, cries out in pain in the contortion of his body around the violent tortuous undesired invader, feeling a metal stick ripping him from the inside out twice. The black man's firm and large body structure were vision-able painful just imagining the pain that could come if he decided to use it as a punching bag would be destructive and now, using him as a sex toy, the wave of pain is excruciating unimaginable exponential times worse exploding throughout his battered body. Ignoring it, a whole new wave of fight washes over the young man, his lower limbs desperately swinging in an attempt to make any form of contact with his attack and he levitates his trembling weak legs and kicks with both heels the man's stomach, knocking off him of the ability to breath. As he foresees, the old lad steps behind and grasps his stomach in pure suffering.
"Disgusting worthless filthy slut!" His grave voice is hoarse and breathless and the rage that stands on his predator eagle eyes roars as a caged tiger and Halstead cowered and shallows dry. He advances on the naked youth and kicks his solar plexus. Halstead sees stars in his vision, the unconscious world almost salutes him and he succumbs to the invitation unless something or someone has the mercy, or, in his specific case, the lack of the attribute, to remain conscious. To his misery, he has someone murmuring something inaudible and slapping his face three times and just stopped when his baby blue eyes met his giant black ones. "You thought it hurt when your master raped you? I'm not as forgiving as him. You take what I give you. You deserve this!" Slow-motion. He squeezes his eyes shut to the sound and the sensation of spitting saliva on his entrance and his rapist reentered him, the rage flaming his being transferred to the violence. Once inside, his wide and huge manhood immediately reaches Halstead's prostate, the boy humming his misery, once adjusted and using his massive hips to increase the harm, brutally thrusts in and out.
"Why are you doing this?" Rhetorically he begs lowly between the thrusts. The man leans over his chest and whispers hotly in his ear.
"Because that's why you were born for." The beneath nods in disagreement. "You are nice and tight, boy, perfect for this. You just don't want to admit it but you are enjoying this as much as I do." He insisted nods in disagreement. "Tomorrow night…" his talk becomes erratic and breathtaking as he is achieving his orgasm. "...you will finally comprehend...and appreciate...someone will give your mouth something better to do instead of saying shit...fuck this tight delicious ass…" he gives one of the cheeks a slap "...when we fuck you simultaneously from both ends, slut…" The pain in his rear lit anew.
Jay shits down the world, focusing his attention on a point on a wall. Will. Mouse. Antonio. Erin. Adam. Kevin. Alvin. Trudy. Kim. Firehouse. Gaffney. Molly's. Voight. He gives up and gives in hope, walls up, dignity, and bravery when the final phrase is uttered, and the ruthless savage rhythm is set. He doesn't give a damn about crying copiously silent tears rolling down his face meanwhile he feels his blood stroking down his thighs, staying there permanently forever. He doesn't give a damn about begging for mercy and kindness to one of the most merciless and unkind men alive although he doesn't have the strength to do it. He doesn't give a damn about remaining unbreakable and invulnerable. He does give a damn, though, about taking what is given, rewatching and relistening all the traumatic acts he was put through and he overcomes most of them alone, it's crashing him down. There is no salvation. He is on his own. A piece of meal laying on that floor to a maniac man's sexual pleasure. His body doesn't belong to him since the warehouse. His soul, spirit, and essence abandoned him. That's how he is dying. Beaten, bloody, used, alone, abandoned on a concrete floor. He isn't heart or brain dead yet, time and his masters will determine his physical death, he is dead to the world.
He is the mindless sex slave Nathan and Bunker seem to desire.
Jay Halstead is gone.
Minutes appeared forever but the climax came and his newly complete rapist empty himself and in the same way he entered, he goes away as a job done. Nothing more than a job done.
"Drug…"
"What?" Perplexed, the man cleaning his bloodied penis had understood the question but needed confirmation from the almost sleepy abused body. "What have you said, bitch?"
"Drug me, master, please."
"See? You are such a slave slut. I would love to record and send it to the police central department, what a slut they had inside the organization without knowing." He prepares another syringe with the medications he had on the bag as well as the collar. The boy doesn't resist as he gently pushes his head to the other side to inject the needle on the same previous barely swollen spot on the neck and, to his surprise and hardness, a genuine smile appeared on his lips as the drug made its function and relaxed him. His watery ocean eyes and his high drugged mind vaguely registered him collocating the collar around the neck and whispering in his ear. "Get used to it, you are using it until the end of time." Too tired to reply, he observes his eyes closing for good, stands up, picks his polaroid, takes a few photos of the naked sleepy abused lad, and goes away.
That's it for chapter 12! The next chapter will have the party. Who is excited? Jay isn't. Give me suggestions about what can happen there to Jay, please! I have some but I would love to hear from you. Hope you liked this one! See you soon!