Fic: Sparkling Stars XII: Broken (3/6)
Title: Sparkling Stars XII: Broken (3/6)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Christy/Virgil, The Brothel Master
Fandom: McHale's Navy
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Hurt/Comfort
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
General Summary: When Virgil falls ill, his high fever sends his mind back to the brothel during.one of his worst experiences there.
Chapter Summary: Pain, fear, humiliation, brokenness.
Date Of Completion: January 20, 2023
Date Of Posting: January 23, 2023
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 2451
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author's Notes: The song Three Little Fishies (by Kay Kyser) was used in the episode Movies Are Your Best Diversion (1x5) and, yes, the crew saw the movie Penelope Of Blueberry Hill seven times! 😄
The entire series can be found here.
III
TO THE SADDLE
"When I break a slave to the saddle, he's ridden hard and put away wet. Then he's taken out for the next dozen men."
Hiram 'Tex' Gritter
Certified Slave-Breaker
Comment To The Press
March 2, 1938
It was quiet, the only sound that of his own raspy breathing. Pain throbbed everywhere in his battered body. His thigh was aching and his ribs were on fire. His wrist's pain was so severe that he felt sick to his stomach. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks as his body curled up, the position he had landed in on the bed after being thrown into his room.
They won't help me. What if my broken ribs puncture a lung? I'll die all alone. One of the few humane things about this place is when a slave is dying, he's allowed to request a fellow slave at his side.
Virgil shook with pain and fear. He closed his eyes, the fingers of his right hand digging into the sheets. He struggled to breathe. Something was wrong.
God, I know you don't listen to slaves' prayers, but maybe just this once? Please! I don't want to die alone!
He sobbed quietly. He would die alone, forgotten by his parents. No one would care. It would be as if he had never existed.
God, please, help me.
The sound of footsteps could be heard passing in the hall. Voices were muffled as the business of the brothel went on while he might be dying.
Can I really survive? Am I buying trouble?
The pain told him otherwise. It burned him, consumed him, seared through him as his entire body throbbed.
I'm all alone.
He let the tears flow. What if his eyes became swollen? If he survived until morning, he would not be servicing anyone for awhile.
His struggles to breathe continued. Would this be the end for him, dying from a beating that he had done nothing to earn?
Who knew when I arrived here that would end up fighting for my life, naked and alone?
Alone.
& & & & & &
Several Months Earlier
September 1939
Virgil was still numb with shock. He was pushed into a nondescript building with several other young men, handcuffed like himself. They were lined up against the wall by the various agents and policemen. They departed as another group entered the room.
Virgil rubbed his wrists. The police had taken their cuffs back.
The most striking man was one clothed in a black robe with a hood. His face was visible, sharp features and square jaw his most prominent features. Dark eyes looked over the young men. He carried a silver truncheon and tapped it in the palm of his hand.
The guards were dressed very differently. They wore white jackets belted at the waist, dark- blue pants and black knee-high boots. White, close-fitting helmets also employed chin straps. They carried black truncheons in white-gloved hands.
It was a lot of protection. Did captives riot? Virgil was confused. Was he dreaming all this? This couldn't be happening!
"I am the Brothel Master. There are six of us, rotating 24-hour cycles. First order: strip."
Virgil blinked. Had he heard correctly?
"Do not dawdle. Strip now!"
Guards circulated with baskets as watches and other jewelry were deposited. Virgil tugged off the Crucifixion ring he had received for his Confirmation a few years ago. He reluctantly placed it in the basket.
"Empty your pockets," said the guard.
Virgil could have kicked himself for absently putting his rosary in his pants pocket. Now that was gone, too. The rosary beads, ruby-red with a string of silver, made a slight rattle as they were lowered into the basket.
He began to strip by unbuttoning his red plaid shirt. More and larger baskets were passed around to deposit the clothes. With fumbling fingers he removed his belt and unsnapped his jeans. He toed off his sneakers and tugged his jeans down and off. Next, his socks. Now only his underwear was left.
He hesitated. He was accustomed to nudity in front of other guys in the locker room, but being naked in a room of fully-clothed men? That was a different story.
Another captive was slow in removing his underwear and the brothel Master's truncheon came down hard on the captive's thigh. The young man yelped and quickly pulled down his underwear.
Virgil did so, too, uncomfortably aware of avid gazes on him. He kept his hands by his sides, uncertain what to do with them.
Once everyone had disrobed, the guards with the large baskets left. Another guard with a smaller basket stepped up to the Master's side, and a second guard with a clipboard and pen joined him. Starting at the end of the line, the Master snapped and locked collars and wrist manacles around each captive. He read off a serial number etched into the underside of the collar and the second guard quickly wrote it down.
Virgil's nerves were on edge by the time the Brothel Master reached his place in line. The man' s eyes flicked over Virgil's chest. His long fingers reached into the basket and drew out a collar.
The collar was painted gold and was not a solid band. A series of circles formed an interlocking pattern. As it was placed around his neck, Virgil could tell it was lightweight. The Master read off the number 1676. He trembled slightly as the cold metal touched his skin and the lock snapped shut. He lifted his arms as he had seen the others do, and manacles matching the collar's design were locked around his wrists. The Brothel Master moved on to the next man.
This can't be happening! I don't care how many times they re-checked my test results. There has to be a mistake.
One of the captives was voicing the same sentiment. "Sir, there has to be a mistake."
"I assure you there is not." The truncheon came up and slid across the man's lips. "Speak again without permission and you will regret it. Also, I am to be addressed as 'Master'. 'Sir' is for the guards." He slapped the captive's face hard.
Virgil trembled slightly. He had to wake up from this nightmare!
After the Master finished collaring and manacling the new arrivals, he stood in the center of the room. "You will be taken to the infirmary after this session to be examined by the doctors. First, some questions, and I warn you, the examinations will reveal if you are lying. You will not enjoy the punishment." A set of four guards with baskets appeared. "Raise your hand if you are an anal virgin."
Swallowing hard, Virgil slowly raised his hand. Of the twenty-five newcomers, only five kept their hands down. They were directed to stand apart against another wall. Green plastic wristbands were tied around their arms just above their manacles.
"How many of you are oral virgins, meaning you have never had your mouth stuffed with cock?"
Virgil raised his hand again, sick at the Master's blunt statement. This time six captives kept their hands down, five from the anal virgins' line and one from the non-virgins. All six were directed to another wall, and they received blue wristbands.
"Now those of you who are oral virgins will receive yellow wristbands, and anal virgins will receive red."
Virgil was quickly banded with yellow and red wristbands. The majority of the newcomers wore the same colors.
"Now, your first lessons: your legs must be spread at all times, whether standing, sitting, kneeling or sleeping." The Master chose a captive and slid the truncheon between his closed thighs and nudged t hem apart, eight-to-ten inches. "When you walk, this rule doesn't apply, but at rest as quoted, they must be spread so that you are open and ready at all times. Guards and Masters will always check and your thighs will know the kiss of the truncheon if they are not spread."
The Brothel Master made a slow survey of the captives, who quickly made sure their legs were properly spread.
"Now, step away from the wall out to here..." he traced an imaginary line "...and turn around. When given the command, Present, bend in half." After everyone obeyed, the Brothel Master said, "The next command is Display. Take your hands, grasp your buttocks, and pull them apart as wide as you can "
Virgil was shocked. He was frozen and noticed others were as well
"Come, come, now." The Master's tone was impatient. "Be warned that slow obedience invites swift and sure punishment. Pull those cheeks apart."
Virgil obeyed, his face flaming with shame and embarrassment. He could feel tears prickle his eyes.
"Good, good." The Master went down the line, making comments. When he reached Virgil his hand massaged the small of his back and his truncheon rubbed the inner walls of Virgil's buttocks, nudging the entrance to his body but not plunging in. "Exquisite," he murmured. "I can hear the bidding for your cherry once the lustful hordes see this." Tears flowed down Virgil's face.
The Brothel Master finished his inspection, a guard's comment of "Fresh meat" eliciting chuckles.
"For the next two weeks, you will all receive oral sex training, even the non-virgins. We have techniques you must learn to please your clientele. And non-virgins will receive anal sex training, and anal virgins will be untouched until your first night of your service in the brothel."
He paused, then said, "Blues and Greens, the command is Undisplay, meaning remove your hands and let your buttocks snap back to normal. Straighten up. Turn around."
He continued, "Anal virgins will be auctioned off to the highest bidder who will 'pop your cherry'. The following morning your anal training will begin. The guards may use you at any time starting today with the exception of anal fucking if you wear a red band. Brothel Masters may order you to their beds at any time."
He ordered the Blues and Reds to Undisplay and Straighten next. Amusement entered the Master''s voice. "Enjoy these two weeks, anal virgins, because after your cherry's popped, you will be stuffed every day."
Virgil's hands were trembling. His buttocks quivered as he kept them open, tears blurring his vision.
"Your mutation allows this two-week window here in the beginning, but after that, you will require daily fucking, mostly provided by your clients but the guards and Brothel Masters will stuff you regularly."
"Yellows and Reds, Undisplay. Straighten up. Turn around."
Virgil could not meet the Master's eyes. He tried to blink away his tears.
"Hands behind your back, wrists crossed. This is your proper placement of hands when standing or kneeling. Your legs will always be apart." The Brothel Master's tone went from neutral to cold. "You are now proper slaves, property of the United States Government. What is between those ass cheeks you pulled apart is now your main focus." He clapped his hands. "Now off to the infirmary."
Each slave was spanked hard by the Brothel Master as they passed him.
& & & & & &
That first day was seared into Virgil's memory. Those two weeks of training heaped humiliation upon humiliation and shock upon shock onto him.
The pain from the beating was constant and throbbing. His left hip was painfully sore, not so much from the beating but from being on his side so long. His breathing was more ragged now. Panic was beginning to blow up inside him as he begged, Holy Mother, help me! Ask Your Son to help me! God, please. Is anybody up there?
Moonlight was streaming through his window. It was nailed shut and made of thick plate glass to prevent him breaking it, but where would he go? Greenwich Village, where there was a homosexual community? FH carriers could not just blend into the woodwork. Needing to be sexed at least once a day presented a problem for a runaway slave.
He dared not move but the fear was entwining with the pain. What if he survived and they beat him again? What if he was going to die?
Please!
Virgil felt strangled, stars dancing before his eyes as he couldn't breathe. And that was when it happened.
He was never quite sure if it was physical, psychological, both or neither, but he felt something break inside him. Like a piece of a glacier breaking off and plunging into the sea, he lost part of himself.
Bewildered, he felt a numbness spread through his body like that Arctic ice. He began to shiver, terrified his broken ribs would puncture his lungs.
Now he understood why broken slaves slid their eyes away, and refused to talk about how their punishment, whether severe whipping, paddling or beating, broke them. Shame flooded Virgil's face.
He felt a strong urge to pull his ass cheeks apart, but he dared not move his broken wrist. His thighs quivered, desperate to spread apart, and his back wanted to arch, offering his chest. His head tilted back, his mouth trembling, craving thick cock filling it
I'm well and truly a slave now.
He sobbed, despair crushing him. His eyes burned from crying, his vision blurring. The moonlight streamed into darkness.
He gasped. What was that? Daring not to hope, he stretched out a trembling right arm.
& & & & & &
Christy grunted as he rolled off his cot. He had to use the bathroom but he checked on Virgil first. He touched his friend's forehead. Still hot. Disappointed, he shambled off to the bathroom.
He did his business and while washing his hands at the sink, grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. He sure needed the sleep. He knew the nurses were sitting by Virgil's bedside in shifts. He had heard them talking during shift change. Virgil needed continuous monitoring at this stage of the disease.
Christy left the bathroom, checking his watch by the moonlight streaming through the window. It was 2 A.M.
No nurse. She must have stepped out for a minute. He decided to stay with Virgil until she returned.
He realized that he could hear quiet sobbing. Disturbed, Christy quickly went over to the bed. Tears like silver streamed down his friend's face.
"Aww, Virg." Christy sat on the edge of the bed and gently touched Virgil's thick hair. "I wish that you could believe that you're safe now."
Virgil began to move restlessly, his sobbing breaking Christy's heart. "Holy Mother," Virgil whispered. Other words were mumbled. Christy was ready to go find the nurse when he was shocked to see Virgil staring at him.
"Virg?"
Virgil's eyes were bright with tears and fever. They were huge in a face pulled taut by suffering.
Virgil stretched out a shaking arm. "Are you an angel?"
This chapter can also be read on AO3.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)