Project: Ganymede (Resident Evil ChrisxWesker) Part 2/?
Chris growls out through the gag, made of the remains of his shirt, and once more shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the tight blindfold over his eyes. Unlike the gag, this is more professionally designed, remaining tight around his head and thicker around where his eyes were, keeping Chris from seeing even if he opened them. He hears Wesker laugh, rubbing a hand through Chris’ hair once more as Chris mutters more curses through the gag at Wesker, hating the treatment. The drug is still making him uncoordinated and weak, but Wesker had still cuffed Chris’ arms behind his back with a shorter, solid-bar style handcuff. It was smaller than a chain handcuff, more secure in some ways, and kept his arms strained with how his hands were so close, the angle meaning they were low on his back instead of higher up, where he might have a chance to break free.
The continued touching by Wesker only serves to remind Chris of who still has him. The chill of his skin and hands, reminding Chris of his inhumanity, that the person he’d once followed was dead and this thing was the real Wesker, cold and unfeeling and only wanting to cause suffering for his own psychotic needs. He curses again as the hand petting Chris’ hair moves down and traces his ear and down neck, another holding his shoulder and upper back.
“You never were creative with your curses,” Wesker says as a hand go back through Chris’ hair, grip tightening and pulling Chris head back and up towards where the ceiling was, or had been last Chris checked, while Wesker’s other hand moves along Chris’ throat and begins to trace his chest muscles. Chris squirms, trying to move away, but the lingering effects of the drug, his still-painful ass from being violated twice by Wesker and his guard, and Wesker’s tight hold that becomes painful in his hair doesn’t allow for much give as the unwanted exploration continues. Chris hears his former commander say, as casually as before, “Whatever is that little team you joined feeding you, Chris? You were never so…” a finger ran lightly along Chris side, getting him to jump at the sensation, “’Wide’, in your muscular definition. This can’t all be for me, can it?”
Chris refused to answer, trying to focus on breathing and ignoring the almost intimate tracing as Wesker splayed his hand over Chris’ stomach, admiring his six-pack and coming dangerously close to Chris’ abused cock. “Which was it, Chris? I doubt it was for any of the companies after Umbrella, though I must admit, you were quite handy with ensuring the last of their creations was thoroughly tested and found…lacking.” Chris ignored the taunt, instead filing the information away for when he escaped, when he was debriefed, to add to Wesker’s file so they could better track and find him, better stop his mad schemes and genocidal actions. “Was this all for the beating I gave you when you came for your sister?” Wesker chuckles as he begins to stroke Chris’ leg lightly, almost intimately, as Chris feels his breath briefly pick up before he focuses it back. No, he won’t give Wesker the satisfaction of seeing him panic again, of hearing him beg like that. He’ll kill Wesker this time, for everything he’s done, for everyone who died because of him and for every friend and team member he killed and used as a guinea pig in his sick experimentations.
“You’ve gone quiet on me, Chris,” Wesker purrs in his ear, body pressing Chris’ back into the same high-back chair they’d taken him in, the pressure pulling at his shoulders and the cold skin only serving to remind Chris that Wesker isn’t human anymore - he was never really the commander that Chris looked up to, the leader and friend that Chris believed him to be. “I’m beginning to think I’m boring you.” The last sentence carried a familiar edge to it, and Chris felt Wesker’s teeth graze his neck as he shuddered in repulsion from the contact.
“Sir,” a new voice (remember it - accented, not from here, but somewhere else…where? Europe maybe? - covers it, different…) gets Wesker to at least be quiet as he waits to hear what the man (older? No, only a bit older than I am, I need to see him, get a visual so I can find out who he is, who’s working for Wesker) to pause in his exploration of Chris’ body.
“The preparations are done, and we only await your orders before we begin.”
Chris feels and hears Wesker’s low chuckle rumble through his chest before Wesker whispers to him, “Time to see how much training you’ll need, Chris. You may have been my best man, but your current employers have woefully neglected your training, and I need to remedy that. My best man must be back to his best shape.”
An involuntary “fuck you” is muffled by the gag, but obviously Wesker realizes what it is, laughing a bit as he lets go of Chris’ hair, saying to the man who spoke up from…near the door? (I need to get the layout again, figure out where I am in the building, so I can get out and escape) that he would be on his way, and then speaking to the guard about taking Chris to ‘the cell’ before the sound of his boots echoed on the floor, Chris mentally counting it and remembering Wesker’s easy stride before they stop and turn. “I expect you and the men to entertain Chris while I am away. I will start my training when I return.”
Chris felt his blood run cold at that, hearing the happy and lustful affirmative from the guard (one was watching, waiting, holding the other’s uniform…right? Then where is he? Or is he sending me with his naked guard? No, I heard someone getting dressed so where…) before he feels the guard’s hands on him, the one easily lifting him up into a over-the-shoulder carry and taking the time to slap Chris’ ass before squeezing it, as if testing it’s firmness. He hears two sets of boots - Wesker and the other guard (?) - head in the opposite direction. Chris feels his mind suddenly rally even as his body still struggles with the drug and his inability to really fight back against his current predicament.
I won’t let this happen again. No. Damn you, Wesker, I’m not going to be used for your sick games!
It’s not completely a fight as the one carries Chris out, the BSAA agent kicking and managing a good connection that causes the guard to fold and drop Chris onto hard, metal-plated floors before he tries to scramble up and away. The method doesn’t worth, the guard recovering quicker than Chris had anticipated as he pulls him back up before he hits Chris hard, sending him reeling to the deck. The guard picks him up in a sort of improvised fireman’s carry that has Chris too light-headed from the hit and the near-choke-hold on him to really focus on escape or where they were going.
Some part of Chris thought to an old book he’d read with Claire when they were kids, a mystery about finding the location of a missing person and it being nearby, but that no one knew that because precautions were taken to make it seem far away. He isn’t sure why, but the thought that being blindfolded and turned around, body drugged and mind shaken from the hit, not to mention from being violated in such a way, seemed to make him feel like they weren’t really going far, simply that he was being spun around to make it feel like they were, and so he couldn’t get a good idea of where he was, if Chris somehow got out and escaped the place.
That doesn’t stop him from continuing to fight when he could, to pull and kick and struggle the moment he thought he might get away with it, no matter what the consequence. He won’t turn back into that pathetic, whining person he was when Wesker violated him. He’s not about to give in, no matter what protocol might say, or anything else.
He doubts the guard is really worse for wear from Chris’ struggles when they do stop and he hears the sound of various languages being spoken, a few he recognizes as local dialects, and others as Afrikaans or some European ones, and a few accented English from various points around the globe. His anger at them all for taking in Wesker’s lies, for selling out their own humanity for whatever Wesker promised them, made Chris determined to not give in, no matter what. He wasn’t about to let them break him. He wouldn’t become the pathetic thing that had briefly raised its head at Wesker’s violation of his body.
The guards all talk loudly, and Chris shakes his head as he passed around from various hands after being set down, some smelling of smoke from various types of drugs or cigarettes, others with the stink of beer and alcohol on them. They all laugh as he manages to clock one by throwing his head back when he hears them get too close, their hot, sour-smelling breath on his shoulder and blood hitting there to show that he landed a solid hit. Chrs tries to escape, getting only a stop before he’s caught and turned again, a curse coming muffled from the man before Chris gets a fist in his face for his troubles, more cheering and laughter as he vaguely hears the ‘rules’ go around.
“Nothing permanent - no, not ours - we can have some fun - nothing too bad - we’ll get all the others…”
Others…Chris almost wants to tell them there won’t be others, but he doubts they’ll believe that, since he’d lead the BSAA teams through plenty of clean-ups where their comrades and fellow assholes were caught and either killed or taken for trial. They wouldn’t come in half-cocked and full of self-assuredness like Chris had, and they certainly weren’t about to come so soon after Chris had run off on his own to try to take down Wesker.
Chris could hope that his team, or a team, would come for him, but he also knows that if they do, he’ll be benched for all of the bullshit reasons until the next BOW or hint of Wesker shows up. Meantime, the men around him are chatting in too many languages, either with one another or in a small group, as one of the men - taller than Chris, leaner, wearing combat pants that did nothing to hide how hard he was, muttered something before pushing Chris to his knees, the impact making Chris let out a muffled cry of pain before he’s turned around, the gag pulled off at the same time a zipper sounds near his ear, and a thick cock is shoved into his mouth.
Chris bites down hard, the hand in his hair to try to push him deeper letting go as the man let out his own yell of pain and anger, pulling away as Chris yelled out, “You fucking ba-“ before someone hits him again, sending him down to the floor as a booted foot hits low on his chest, winding him and getting Chris to curl up before the same hands pull him back up and the same movement is repeated. The winding and sudden loss of air doesn’t stop Chris from biting down again, just as hard, the men now laughing around him as he’s hit hard enough to be nearly sent sprawling, a few yells from the other men apparently telling the man who tried to get Chris to suck his cock to stop, one saying with a thick Australian accent, “You dumbass, he’s gagged for a reason,” as Chris is dragged up and put over the back of some sort of furniture - he thinks a couch, his sense of direction is screwed from the constant turning and the blindfold keeping him from really being able to focus well, the feel of two fingers pushed deep into him making Chris struggle against the hold of the Australian man, cursing as the man chuckles lustfully and begins to pump his fingers. “See, he’s a little kitten now.”
“Fucking bastards,” Chris growls out, trying to pull away or shake off the man as another finger moves in, the three pushing hard as the Australian man begins to spread them while he slowly moves them in and out of Chris, “I’m gonna kill you for this, you pieces of shit.”
Another man walks around Chris, pulling his head up by his hair and shoving the gag, or at least a similar cloth ball, back into his mouth and using another to tie it up, muttering, “He’s no more a kitten then a tiger is, you’re playing with fire here.” He’s got an accent Chris can’t place as easily as some of the others, a sort of odd, near-generic African accent that Chris almost thinks is faked, and badly at that.
“Oh, I’m sure we could get him more amenable,” the Australian man says as he continues to finger-fuck Chris, moving quicker into Chris as the BSAA agent lets out curses and threats into the new gag, panting as his fight to get free only serves to tire him out. “See? Give us an hour to relax him, and he’ll be as hungry as any of the other guests.”
“Then you can be the first to test that out,” the faked-African says as Chris hears him walk away, Chris yelling out a curse at the implication he’d give in to these assholes. There are more jeers and cheers from the others, others apparently coming nearby and starting to pleasure themselves as Chris renews his struggles, the Australian man pulling out his fingers as he instead pushes in his cock, getting Chris to let out more curses and to try to move as far forward as he can, the man pulling him back using the short handcuffs as a hold before saying, “Oh, God, for someone who took three fingers in their ass, you sure are tight, whore.”
Chris’ “fuck you” is obvious understood by some of the men, who seem to find the whole thing too funny as the Australian man begins to move, his pace hard and erratic as his other hand going to grab Chris’ wrist. Chris doesn’t waste time, bending his hands enough to grab what feels like a pinky and ring finger before he bends them in a way they shouldn’t go, hearing the Australian’s high-pitched scream of pain as the fingers pop before others manage to get him to let go, more than a few yelling something in their own language and the laughter obviously stopped from the fact that Chris was not about to let him simply fuck him until Wesker came to get him in exchange for supposed ‘others’.
One of the other men picks up where the hurt and still-screaming Australian does, this time grabbing Chris’ shoulder and wrist before pushing him further forward, making him too off-balance to do anything but yell through his gag as the man pushes deeply into Chris’ ass, pace fast and hard as Chris curses and moans at the pain. There’s nothing about it that brings him pleasure, and his body responds to the whole thing like some sort of invasion, as if now in concert with his mind as it fights against the possibility of more rape.
Where was this when Wesker was raping me?
Chris doesn’t bother to consider it as he feels the man push into him once more, cum going in, and a few men laughing about something that Chris finally hears in English as one of them says, “He ain’t even hard. Even that last bitch we got was wet by now.”
Of course his employees are rapists assholes who are only satisfied by prisoners to fuck. One of the men pulls him up by the shoulder, Chris trying to get away as the man held Chris up, an arm wrapped around his torso before he begins to painfully jack Chris off, Chris letting out a yell of pain and anger as he pushed away and fought, the man cheering the other on for a moment until they, and Chris, seemed to notice that nothing was going on with his cock. It was still flaccid and not responding to the painful stimulation, though Chris couldn’t see their reactions, he could feel it. The man holding him let out a growl of frustration as he pushed Chris away, Chris hitting a table and folding over as another man pulled him back up by his neck, the tight grip making it hard for Chris to breath, the sound of cheering meaning the men apparently had a better way to ‘use’ Chris then as their fuck-toy.
=
The four-man group of BSAA agents are easy enough to lure into the older area of the compound, and obviously are trained well enough to make it far enough to confront Wesker without much general bruising or attacks. He smirks when he sees one of them, blonde and so young, balk, shaking as he sees the ripped tactical vest that belonged to Chris in Wesker’s hand.
There’s always one weak link, and Wesker can see the others are equally shaken, obviously trying to remind their training. Still, the time it took them to pick up on Chris’ signal and get here is troubling, though no more so than their failed training.
Pathetic. Even faced with the inelegant Cerebus or the other ‘BOW’ in the mansion, Chris didn’t lose his cool, ensuring his teammates were safe before himself, even that holdover Beta team member, Chambers. Chris had laughed at Wesker and challenged Tyrant - at the time the best creation of Umbrella and Wesker’s research - and then continued to face Wesker down. Even when he had fallen to begging for mercy as he was taken by Wesker, he’d still threatened Wesker, a threat that Wesker actually felt he should take seriously. After all, Chris has been the only one to even get close to killing him. Even Sergi and the Red Queen had been no match for Wesker, but Chris Redfield…silly, dull, unintelligent, human Chris Redfield…had gotten so much closer. If not for the Prototype virus and the soon-to-be Uroboros, Wesker would be another casualty of the mess Umbrella had been creating through the way they handled things.
He’d be another dead Wesker child, the legacy of that old man and his wish for immortality, instead of the one who would bring about a new world.
“Where is he, you bastard?” the young blonde one yelled, raising his gun and getting Wesker to smirk as he dropped the torn jacket. It would have been a better effect if there was some blood on it, he thinks, but instead he’s silent, judging them as one of them tries to calm down the other man, muttering something that Wesker barely picks up on before one of them attempts to go at him.
Oh, their training is based off the STARS original training. Good.
That will make this easier.
=
No one approaches Chris after the semi-brutal beating and near-gang-rape - apparently the three other guys who were cocky enough to try to make him their blow-doll were still sporting the teeth marks and, in one’s case, still bleeding, and that ruined the fun as much as Chris’ inability to perform did.
In a way, that’s almost worse than when he was being thrown around and jeered at, because he was hard all throughout that first rape, but now….
He vaguely remembers the beating and screams from the men who’d tried to shove cocks down his throat, heard them say to simply ‘leave him’, and he’d been shoved onto a chair, rope or something similar going around his ankles and chest to hold him into place before he was left somewhere that seemed to have no sound. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in this isolated area, only that the moment he wasn’t being beaten, moved, or raped, his body stopped really responding to his demands, and seemed to barely give him any input.
Chris’ head was ringing from the beating, and the only sound he could hear being the tinnitus from it. But from the outside group, there was no loud sound, and even when he tried to move or tip over his chair before the drug’s effects took hold again, he found it secured firmly to the ground, at least enough so that his weakened body couldn’t move it.
At least wasn’t being manhandled or taken by Wesker’s men and their probably huge list of diseases and viruses, but at the same time, the drug was making his mind wander through his memories of his capture and rape, or further back to the other times he’d faced Wesker and been beaten, or had to try to fight him, only to lose and have Wesker escape death. It gives Chris too much time to realize how much of an idiot he’s been since his last encounter with Wesker, and the ones before that. It was his choice to come alone on this mission, to not call for back-up when the merest hint of Wesker showed up, and it meant that if he got out of this, he was probably going to be benched until their superiors got him in to see someone or something.
Not happening. Taking him out of the game to talk about his feelings, to evaluate him and just put him behind some desk wasn’t going to help anyone. He’d heard of some good being done, but all of it was by others who’d been there for the first few outbreaks - the few from STARS that managed to survive both the mansion and Raccoon City, or others who had joined after one event or another from escaped BOW. The groups of kids he’s training are all already hardened in their own ways, but a few of them are there for the world-travels or ability to get wealth - and they all know the dangers.
Because of wherever he is, not to mention the drug’s effects, Chris is unaware of the new arrivals until his chair is pulled back, turned, and hauled forward enough to jar his body and, thus, wake up his mind to things. The chair legs scraping loudly and he hears the return of the jeers and cheers from the guards, hears someone say something about the ‘new catches’ and bets being made of who they are, how many, and of what type. A cold sweat runs down Chris’ spine at the muddled words, fear at the lost hours here, not to mention what the guard’s talk could mean, bringing up his old doubts.
Fuck!
Someone, or a group, got caught, and that means that he’s only here because he’s about to be returned to Wesker. Chris lets out a yell of annoyance, grateful for his voice despite the rocking motions that require him to focus, right before he hears someone call his last name, a few others letting out gasps. Chris stills, recognizing the voice, and instantly a new fear creeps into his thoughts.
Marks…then…shit, no!
“Chris,” his name comes out as a purr from nearby, getting Chris to try to regulate his breathing as Wesker’s boots echo in the guard’s room, “I think you should properly welcome your rescue team.” Wesker pulls off the blindfold, Chris blinking at the sudden change in lighting and ducking his head as he struggles to move away from Wesker, the chair nearly falling backwards in his attempt but for Wesker’s grip on it, tilting it slightly back before pushing it up and moving to one side, allowing him a full view of his men. Zane Marks and Hosea Little are two men that Chris had trained, the young men having survived a BOW outbreak near their home and managed to rally who they could to help the few survivors escape. Zane is like Chris was in the past - tall, short hair in a military crew cut, and piercing dark eyes as opposed to Chris’ blue ones - but his face is different, more handsome, and clean-cut instead of the stubble that Chris always manages before the military regulations kick into his mind and he has to shave it all off. His hair is also far closer to a blonde color than Chris’ ever would be, not without the benefit of dye.
Hosea is different, with his curly dark hair and darker eyes, but no other features showing his Hebrew lineage, or the half-lineage he got from his mother’s side. He appeared worried for Chris, but also aware of the dangers as his eyes darted around towards the other men and especially to Wesker. The other two men Chris only knew from reputation - Hawkins was a strict professional, grizzled and ruggedly handsome in his own way, and Ramiro looked like he should be straight out of Zapata’s army, mustache and all.
Right now all four of them were handcuffed like he’d been, but all four were also at least in clothing - he was naked and covered in bruises, ass still burning from the abuse he’d suffered - and now Wesker cast a glance at them before looking back at Chris, reaching to run his thumb along near Chris’ upper lip and to pull the gag slightly, but not completely out.
“What’s the matter, Chris? Shouldn’t you be welcoming your saviors?” The guards laugh at that, Chris glaring at Wesker as the other man smirks at him, obviously relishing in his power over Chris and the others. This was always a possibility, but Chris never wanted them to be in any sort of danger, especially not from Wesker or his men. It would be red in Wesker’s already blood-soaked ledger, but also more dead friends and colleagues that Chris would have to answer for. That they were trapped here with him, with Wesker and his men, was Chris’ fault.
He’d misjudged, and now those others would pay for it.
Wesker shifts, moving to pull Chris’ head back, getting him to realize just how short the back of the chair he’s tied to is as his back bows with the pull. Wesker forces Chris to look at him as the captured men are stuck, waiting, while the guards look on lustfully, obviously salivating at the idea of getting the four new men to rape. Wesker was once more wearing his dark clothing, the trousers tight enough to show the outline of his erection as Wesker said, “You’ve been so vocal before…why not speak now? The blonde one seems particularly taken with you.” Chris continues to glares at Wesker as he lets go of Chris head, letting him sit up and look back at the four, trying to convey an apology for being such an idiot and getting them into this situation. Zane looks upset by it, as if the thought of Chris apologizing for them being here and in such danger is not something he should think about, and Hosea seems resigned but not about to accept that apology, his own, weak glare saying that he obviously takes responsibility for this instead of Chris. The other two are equally indignant at Chris’ attempt at a silent apology, though Hawkins looks a little unnerved by the amount of guards in the room.
Wesker thumb goes back to where the gag is, pulling it from Chris mouth and leaving it to dangle along his neck, like a loose collar, as Wesker grips his jaw painfully, tilting his head up so he can now glare at Wesker, who’s obviously pleased with himself and his ‘catch’, as well as what it’s doing to Chris. “I heard you were giving my men trouble. That you put four into the medical wing when they tried to use your mouth.” Wesker’s other hand tracing Chris’ lips and smirking as Chris tries to move away, the grip too strong to allow him any sort of movement. Wesker seems to find Chris’ continue resistance something to smile about, as he moves a hand to his trousers, palming his erection as Chris glares at him, humiliation already coming up at the thought of what might happen if he allows this. The others’ lives are on the line - when it was just Chris, he was fine with doing what he could to defend himself, consequences be damned, but now? Now there are others he’s responsible for.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Chris, slowly grinding,” Wesker says, reaching up to run his hand up into Chris’ hair, the grip on his jaw remaining steady as Wesker pats him, like some sort of dog. “If you don’t fight me in this, I’m going to assume I don’t have your attention. I do have your attention, don’t I?”
Chris glares at him, still silent. The hand on his jaw goes to his throat, lifting him easily, chair and all, as Zane yells out. The moment Zane yells and fights, Wesker drops Chris, sending him crashing to one side, the bruises and jarring change from choked to being on the floor sideways making Chris cough before he sees Wesker holding Zane off the ground, everyone silent as Zane struggles, unable to lift up his hands, cuffed as they were, to try to relieve the pressure as Wesker squeezed the life out of him.
“Wesker!” Chris yells, or tries to, his call coming out more like a croak as he pushes, trying to fight, finally yelling, “Don’t you dare, you fucking bastard! I’ll kill you!”
“Too little, too late, Chris,” Wesker says, Zane’s struggles growing weak before he’s dropped, also coughing as he draws in breath. Wesker watches him before kicking him hard, sending the younger man up with the force and causing the other three to try to come to his rescue, stopped by the guns against their heads as Zane lands back on the ground, groaning but alive, at least for now. Wesker glances at Chris, apparently upset by his look still on Zane, if the fact that he’s once more facing Wesker with a hand on his throat is any indication.
“I thought I explained this to you, Chris. Or do I not have your attention?”
“b-bas-tard-l-let-m-me-go,” Chris manages to choke out, the answer getting Wesker to tilt his head, as if listening as Chris feels the added weight start to pull on his neck, the tight restraint keeping him from falling or breathing as he stops his movement, focusing on trying to stay awake before Wesker once more drops him. This time the chair staying upright, Chris’ attempt to pull in air being the only reason he doesn’t see Wesker move to the side, not until he turns Chris head painfully to shove his freed cock down Chris’ throat.
Chris chokes on it, his instinct to bite down starting right before Wesker grabs his jaw, the pressure holding it open as he keeps it there, Chris struggling to pull in breath and curse as Wesker commands, “Take them.”
Chris barely manages to look over, seeing two of the guards roughly pick up the struggling and dazed Zane as Hosea calls for him, the other man doing his best to fight back as he’s shoved over the side of a couch nearby while the other two are taken further back, out of Chris’ line of sight though both let out cries of pain that seem to indicate they aren’t being made to suck dick like Chris is.
Wesker begins to move at that, his pace as quick as when he’d violated Chris before, the hand on his jaw powerful enough to hold him still as Chris does his best to fight, to pull back or change the angle and use it to his advantage to cause Wesker more pain then pleasure. However, the hold is too tight for him to do more than just try, and the pain when he squeezes nearly causes Chris to cry out around the meaty cock in his mouth. Between the pain the humiliation of being violated in front of his men right before their own violation, and the lack of air from having a cock go down his throat, Wesker pushing it in deep enough to nearly get Chris to choke more than once, he doesn’t realize what’s going on until he feels someone land on his lap, a guard saying darkly, “You want a taste of your supervisor’s cock?” before he feels someone’s hot, panting breath along his flaccid cock. Chris panics at that, Wesker seeming to figure it out enough to stop his assault and instead pull out, letting go of Chris’ jaw in favor of using one hand, slick with Wesker’s own pre-cum, to pull at Chris cock while the other teases Chris’ nipples and chest.
“You piece of shit bastards, let him go!” Chris yells as the guard grabs the still-dazed Zane, shoving his mouth down on Chris’ half-hard cock and forcing it to bob as Chris starts to curse at the undeniably pleasurable sensation. Wesker’s hand keeps Zane from taking it all whole, and the pressure and feel of Wesker’s soft glove, not to mention the hot breath and slickness from Zane’s mouth gets Chris to involuntarily let out a groan of pleasure, his mind rebelling at what was happening. No, he can’t be used as some sort of instrument for Zane’s torture too! He won’t!
Wesker straightens from where he’d been leaning over to ‘help’ Zane, the cum-coated hand going to Chris cheek as the other ones goes back to his jaw. Just as Chris began to curse them again, Wesker turns Chis’ head and shoves his own cock back down Chris’ throat, forcing him to deep-throat it again. The inhuman thing keeps it there as Chris shifts and struggles to breathe, the pleasure from Zane being raped on Chris’ dick getting Chris’ hips to react involuntarily, jerking upwards. Chris doesn’t quite realize what was happening until he hears Zane choke himself on the sudden deepthroating that Chris had given him as well. Wesker’s laugh fills Chris with anger and shame, his inability to control his body’s actions having caused someone else to get hurt.
“He seems to like that,” Wesker’s taunting voice makes the guard laugh, Chris trying to yell at them but unable to as Wesker begins to fuck his face, the pace as steady and hard as the beginning when he took Chris’ ass, giving Chris hardly any time to fight back or even think, his body and mind too focused on the need for air, as well as the pleasure/pain signals it was getting. Some part of his mind was confused and angry at his body, for giving in when Wesker touched him when he’d managed to fight off and not respond to the guards when they were attacking him and trying to fuck him.
He hears Zane choke again as he’s pushed down onto Chris’ cock, feels the instinctive swallowing motion around his own cock and ends up moaning around Wesker’s cock in response. Chris closes his eyes, not wanting to watch this, but the earlier sensory-deprivation makes that hard, his skin now far more sensitive as Zane continues to bob up and down, head forced down as Chris’ body rejects his mind’s attempt to control it, instead going on instinct and jerking up and into the wet, warm hole.
Wesker doesn’t laugh, instead pulling out his cock and slapping Chris hard, forcing Chris to open his eyes at the pain, seeing Hosea being taken by two men, one on each end, as another jerked off over his back. The other two are further in but Chris can now see them, one being fucked over a table by three men, the other either unconscious or gagged as he’s fucked mercilessly over another table, the jerking seeming to signal how close the guard is to coming. Wesker’s hand forces Chris’ head, and thus his eyes, back to the shade-covered eyes of his former commander as he begins to pant at the buildup of pleasure.
“Don’t look away from this, Chris. What did I just say about attention?”
“f-fuck you…” Chris manages to pant out, the air allowing him to think straight for a moment before Wesker pulls Chris’ head forward, back onto Wesker’s pale cock. This time Chris manages a brief bite, the hold on the side of his head instead of against his jaw, but Wesker only laughs at that, pulling out to readjust his hold back to Chris jaw, looking down with a smirk at his glare, before going back to fucking his mouth. Zane lets out his own moan around Chris cock, Chris seeing that the guard had pulled down Zane’s trousers, using Zane’s own belt to redden the younger man’s ass with light slaps. Wesker’s two hands were now being used to hold both Chris and Zane, forcing them both to suck cock as Wesker lets out a groan, speeding up his thrusts as Chris feels his own body begin to do the same, the sounds that Zane made with each hit on his reddening ass and the motion that Wesker is forcing him to do only serving to make Chris’ body react as well, hips jerking up to meet Zane’s mouth as it goes down on him.
Wesker’s pace picks as Chris’ groans from the pleasure starts to peak, Zane’s own sounds almost turning to similar moans. Chris glances over and sees the guard had stopped hitting him, instead working his fingers expertly into Zane, each movement getting Zane to moan and start to push his hips back on them. The guard is starting to push faster and harder into Zane, the younger man shaking as he gets closer to release, starting to suck Chris’ cock instead of being choked by it. Chris feels himself blush at the realization even as Wesker’s pace becomes almost brutal, as Chris feels the pressure building up, his hips shaking and losing their rhythm right before he lets out a muffled yell, cumming down Zane’s throat. The younger man groans as well, choking a bit on the cum before he’s pulled off, some of it getting on his face before Zane lets out his own yell of surprise, impaled deep on the guard’s dick as he begins to pump in and out of him, pulling him away from the other two. Chris’ attention goes back to Wesker the moment he feels the sudden jerking sensation, Wesker letting out a satisfied yell before pushing in again, cumming down Chris’ throat.
Chris barely manages to cough most of it back up, some going down his throat simply because it hit the back of it or when he finally managed to take in a deep breath. Chris spits the rest at Wesker as he laughs, moving to pull apart the ropes holding Chris and picking him up easily, pulling him out towards the door as the guards continue around them. Chris glares at him, shame and humiliation warring through him as Wesker holds him, the smirk on his face as he locks glowing eyes with Chris’ blue ones.
“Time for some privacy, Chris, and the real training to begin.”.
The continued touching by Wesker only serves to remind Chris of who still has him. The chill of his skin and hands, reminding Chris of his inhumanity, that the person he’d once followed was dead and this thing was the real Wesker, cold and unfeeling and only wanting to cause suffering for his own psychotic needs. He curses again as the hand petting Chris’ hair moves down and traces his ear and down neck, another holding his shoulder and upper back.
“You never were creative with your curses,” Wesker says as a hand go back through Chris’ hair, grip tightening and pulling Chris head back and up towards where the ceiling was, or had been last Chris checked, while Wesker’s other hand moves along Chris’ throat and begins to trace his chest muscles. Chris squirms, trying to move away, but the lingering effects of the drug, his still-painful ass from being violated twice by Wesker and his guard, and Wesker’s tight hold that becomes painful in his hair doesn’t allow for much give as the unwanted exploration continues. Chris hears his former commander say, as casually as before, “Whatever is that little team you joined feeding you, Chris? You were never so…” a finger ran lightly along Chris side, getting him to jump at the sensation, “’Wide’, in your muscular definition. This can’t all be for me, can it?”
Chris refused to answer, trying to focus on breathing and ignoring the almost intimate tracing as Wesker splayed his hand over Chris’ stomach, admiring his six-pack and coming dangerously close to Chris’ abused cock. “Which was it, Chris? I doubt it was for any of the companies after Umbrella, though I must admit, you were quite handy with ensuring the last of their creations was thoroughly tested and found…lacking.” Chris ignored the taunt, instead filing the information away for when he escaped, when he was debriefed, to add to Wesker’s file so they could better track and find him, better stop his mad schemes and genocidal actions. “Was this all for the beating I gave you when you came for your sister?” Wesker chuckles as he begins to stroke Chris’ leg lightly, almost intimately, as Chris feels his breath briefly pick up before he focuses it back. No, he won’t give Wesker the satisfaction of seeing him panic again, of hearing him beg like that. He’ll kill Wesker this time, for everything he’s done, for everyone who died because of him and for every friend and team member he killed and used as a guinea pig in his sick experimentations.
“You’ve gone quiet on me, Chris,” Wesker purrs in his ear, body pressing Chris’ back into the same high-back chair they’d taken him in, the pressure pulling at his shoulders and the cold skin only serving to remind Chris that Wesker isn’t human anymore - he was never really the commander that Chris looked up to, the leader and friend that Chris believed him to be. “I’m beginning to think I’m boring you.” The last sentence carried a familiar edge to it, and Chris felt Wesker’s teeth graze his neck as he shuddered in repulsion from the contact.
“Sir,” a new voice (remember it - accented, not from here, but somewhere else…where? Europe maybe? - covers it, different…) gets Wesker to at least be quiet as he waits to hear what the man (older? No, only a bit older than I am, I need to see him, get a visual so I can find out who he is, who’s working for Wesker) to pause in his exploration of Chris’ body.
“The preparations are done, and we only await your orders before we begin.”
Chris feels and hears Wesker’s low chuckle rumble through his chest before Wesker whispers to him, “Time to see how much training you’ll need, Chris. You may have been my best man, but your current employers have woefully neglected your training, and I need to remedy that. My best man must be back to his best shape.”
An involuntary “fuck you” is muffled by the gag, but obviously Wesker realizes what it is, laughing a bit as he lets go of Chris’ hair, saying to the man who spoke up from…near the door? (I need to get the layout again, figure out where I am in the building, so I can get out and escape) that he would be on his way, and then speaking to the guard about taking Chris to ‘the cell’ before the sound of his boots echoed on the floor, Chris mentally counting it and remembering Wesker’s easy stride before they stop and turn. “I expect you and the men to entertain Chris while I am away. I will start my training when I return.”
Chris felt his blood run cold at that, hearing the happy and lustful affirmative from the guard (one was watching, waiting, holding the other’s uniform…right? Then where is he? Or is he sending me with his naked guard? No, I heard someone getting dressed so where…) before he feels the guard’s hands on him, the one easily lifting him up into a over-the-shoulder carry and taking the time to slap Chris’ ass before squeezing it, as if testing it’s firmness. He hears two sets of boots - Wesker and the other guard (?) - head in the opposite direction. Chris feels his mind suddenly rally even as his body still struggles with the drug and his inability to really fight back against his current predicament.
I won’t let this happen again. No. Damn you, Wesker, I’m not going to be used for your sick games!
It’s not completely a fight as the one carries Chris out, the BSAA agent kicking and managing a good connection that causes the guard to fold and drop Chris onto hard, metal-plated floors before he tries to scramble up and away. The method doesn’t worth, the guard recovering quicker than Chris had anticipated as he pulls him back up before he hits Chris hard, sending him reeling to the deck. The guard picks him up in a sort of improvised fireman’s carry that has Chris too light-headed from the hit and the near-choke-hold on him to really focus on escape or where they were going.
Some part of Chris thought to an old book he’d read with Claire when they were kids, a mystery about finding the location of a missing person and it being nearby, but that no one knew that because precautions were taken to make it seem far away. He isn’t sure why, but the thought that being blindfolded and turned around, body drugged and mind shaken from the hit, not to mention from being violated in such a way, seemed to make him feel like they weren’t really going far, simply that he was being spun around to make it feel like they were, and so he couldn’t get a good idea of where he was, if Chris somehow got out and escaped the place.
That doesn’t stop him from continuing to fight when he could, to pull and kick and struggle the moment he thought he might get away with it, no matter what the consequence. He won’t turn back into that pathetic, whining person he was when Wesker violated him. He’s not about to give in, no matter what protocol might say, or anything else.
He doubts the guard is really worse for wear from Chris’ struggles when they do stop and he hears the sound of various languages being spoken, a few he recognizes as local dialects, and others as Afrikaans or some European ones, and a few accented English from various points around the globe. His anger at them all for taking in Wesker’s lies, for selling out their own humanity for whatever Wesker promised them, made Chris determined to not give in, no matter what. He wasn’t about to let them break him. He wouldn’t become the pathetic thing that had briefly raised its head at Wesker’s violation of his body.
The guards all talk loudly, and Chris shakes his head as he passed around from various hands after being set down, some smelling of smoke from various types of drugs or cigarettes, others with the stink of beer and alcohol on them. They all laugh as he manages to clock one by throwing his head back when he hears them get too close, their hot, sour-smelling breath on his shoulder and blood hitting there to show that he landed a solid hit. Chrs tries to escape, getting only a stop before he’s caught and turned again, a curse coming muffled from the man before Chris gets a fist in his face for his troubles, more cheering and laughter as he vaguely hears the ‘rules’ go around.
“Nothing permanent - no, not ours - we can have some fun - nothing too bad - we’ll get all the others…”
Others…Chris almost wants to tell them there won’t be others, but he doubts they’ll believe that, since he’d lead the BSAA teams through plenty of clean-ups where their comrades and fellow assholes were caught and either killed or taken for trial. They wouldn’t come in half-cocked and full of self-assuredness like Chris had, and they certainly weren’t about to come so soon after Chris had run off on his own to try to take down Wesker.
Chris could hope that his team, or a team, would come for him, but he also knows that if they do, he’ll be benched for all of the bullshit reasons until the next BOW or hint of Wesker shows up. Meantime, the men around him are chatting in too many languages, either with one another or in a small group, as one of the men - taller than Chris, leaner, wearing combat pants that did nothing to hide how hard he was, muttered something before pushing Chris to his knees, the impact making Chris let out a muffled cry of pain before he’s turned around, the gag pulled off at the same time a zipper sounds near his ear, and a thick cock is shoved into his mouth.
Chris bites down hard, the hand in his hair to try to push him deeper letting go as the man let out his own yell of pain and anger, pulling away as Chris yelled out, “You fucking ba-“ before someone hits him again, sending him down to the floor as a booted foot hits low on his chest, winding him and getting Chris to curl up before the same hands pull him back up and the same movement is repeated. The winding and sudden loss of air doesn’t stop Chris from biting down again, just as hard, the men now laughing around him as he’s hit hard enough to be nearly sent sprawling, a few yells from the other men apparently telling the man who tried to get Chris to suck his cock to stop, one saying with a thick Australian accent, “You dumbass, he’s gagged for a reason,” as Chris is dragged up and put over the back of some sort of furniture - he thinks a couch, his sense of direction is screwed from the constant turning and the blindfold keeping him from really being able to focus well, the feel of two fingers pushed deep into him making Chris struggle against the hold of the Australian man, cursing as the man chuckles lustfully and begins to pump his fingers. “See, he’s a little kitten now.”
“Fucking bastards,” Chris growls out, trying to pull away or shake off the man as another finger moves in, the three pushing hard as the Australian man begins to spread them while he slowly moves them in and out of Chris, “I’m gonna kill you for this, you pieces of shit.”
Another man walks around Chris, pulling his head up by his hair and shoving the gag, or at least a similar cloth ball, back into his mouth and using another to tie it up, muttering, “He’s no more a kitten then a tiger is, you’re playing with fire here.” He’s got an accent Chris can’t place as easily as some of the others, a sort of odd, near-generic African accent that Chris almost thinks is faked, and badly at that.
“Oh, I’m sure we could get him more amenable,” the Australian man says as he continues to finger-fuck Chris, moving quicker into Chris as the BSAA agent lets out curses and threats into the new gag, panting as his fight to get free only serves to tire him out. “See? Give us an hour to relax him, and he’ll be as hungry as any of the other guests.”
“Then you can be the first to test that out,” the faked-African says as Chris hears him walk away, Chris yelling out a curse at the implication he’d give in to these assholes. There are more jeers and cheers from the others, others apparently coming nearby and starting to pleasure themselves as Chris renews his struggles, the Australian man pulling out his fingers as he instead pushes in his cock, getting Chris to let out more curses and to try to move as far forward as he can, the man pulling him back using the short handcuffs as a hold before saying, “Oh, God, for someone who took three fingers in their ass, you sure are tight, whore.”
Chris’ “fuck you” is obvious understood by some of the men, who seem to find the whole thing too funny as the Australian man begins to move, his pace hard and erratic as his other hand going to grab Chris’ wrist. Chris doesn’t waste time, bending his hands enough to grab what feels like a pinky and ring finger before he bends them in a way they shouldn’t go, hearing the Australian’s high-pitched scream of pain as the fingers pop before others manage to get him to let go, more than a few yelling something in their own language and the laughter obviously stopped from the fact that Chris was not about to let him simply fuck him until Wesker came to get him in exchange for supposed ‘others’.
One of the other men picks up where the hurt and still-screaming Australian does, this time grabbing Chris’ shoulder and wrist before pushing him further forward, making him too off-balance to do anything but yell through his gag as the man pushes deeply into Chris’ ass, pace fast and hard as Chris curses and moans at the pain. There’s nothing about it that brings him pleasure, and his body responds to the whole thing like some sort of invasion, as if now in concert with his mind as it fights against the possibility of more rape.
Where was this when Wesker was raping me?
Chris doesn’t bother to consider it as he feels the man push into him once more, cum going in, and a few men laughing about something that Chris finally hears in English as one of them says, “He ain’t even hard. Even that last bitch we got was wet by now.”
Of course his employees are rapists assholes who are only satisfied by prisoners to fuck. One of the men pulls him up by the shoulder, Chris trying to get away as the man held Chris up, an arm wrapped around his torso before he begins to painfully jack Chris off, Chris letting out a yell of pain and anger as he pushed away and fought, the man cheering the other on for a moment until they, and Chris, seemed to notice that nothing was going on with his cock. It was still flaccid and not responding to the painful stimulation, though Chris couldn’t see their reactions, he could feel it. The man holding him let out a growl of frustration as he pushed Chris away, Chris hitting a table and folding over as another man pulled him back up by his neck, the tight grip making it hard for Chris to breath, the sound of cheering meaning the men apparently had a better way to ‘use’ Chris then as their fuck-toy.
=
The four-man group of BSAA agents are easy enough to lure into the older area of the compound, and obviously are trained well enough to make it far enough to confront Wesker without much general bruising or attacks. He smirks when he sees one of them, blonde and so young, balk, shaking as he sees the ripped tactical vest that belonged to Chris in Wesker’s hand.
There’s always one weak link, and Wesker can see the others are equally shaken, obviously trying to remind their training. Still, the time it took them to pick up on Chris’ signal and get here is troubling, though no more so than their failed training.
Pathetic. Even faced with the inelegant Cerebus or the other ‘BOW’ in the mansion, Chris didn’t lose his cool, ensuring his teammates were safe before himself, even that holdover Beta team member, Chambers. Chris had laughed at Wesker and challenged Tyrant - at the time the best creation of Umbrella and Wesker’s research - and then continued to face Wesker down. Even when he had fallen to begging for mercy as he was taken by Wesker, he’d still threatened Wesker, a threat that Wesker actually felt he should take seriously. After all, Chris has been the only one to even get close to killing him. Even Sergi and the Red Queen had been no match for Wesker, but Chris Redfield…silly, dull, unintelligent, human Chris Redfield…had gotten so much closer. If not for the Prototype virus and the soon-to-be Uroboros, Wesker would be another casualty of the mess Umbrella had been creating through the way they handled things.
He’d be another dead Wesker child, the legacy of that old man and his wish for immortality, instead of the one who would bring about a new world.
“Where is he, you bastard?” the young blonde one yelled, raising his gun and getting Wesker to smirk as he dropped the torn jacket. It would have been a better effect if there was some blood on it, he thinks, but instead he’s silent, judging them as one of them tries to calm down the other man, muttering something that Wesker barely picks up on before one of them attempts to go at him.
Oh, their training is based off the STARS original training. Good.
That will make this easier.
=
No one approaches Chris after the semi-brutal beating and near-gang-rape - apparently the three other guys who were cocky enough to try to make him their blow-doll were still sporting the teeth marks and, in one’s case, still bleeding, and that ruined the fun as much as Chris’ inability to perform did.
In a way, that’s almost worse than when he was being thrown around and jeered at, because he was hard all throughout that first rape, but now….
He vaguely remembers the beating and screams from the men who’d tried to shove cocks down his throat, heard them say to simply ‘leave him’, and he’d been shoved onto a chair, rope or something similar going around his ankles and chest to hold him into place before he was left somewhere that seemed to have no sound. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in this isolated area, only that the moment he wasn’t being beaten, moved, or raped, his body stopped really responding to his demands, and seemed to barely give him any input.
Chris’ head was ringing from the beating, and the only sound he could hear being the tinnitus from it. But from the outside group, there was no loud sound, and even when he tried to move or tip over his chair before the drug’s effects took hold again, he found it secured firmly to the ground, at least enough so that his weakened body couldn’t move it.
At least wasn’t being manhandled or taken by Wesker’s men and their probably huge list of diseases and viruses, but at the same time, the drug was making his mind wander through his memories of his capture and rape, or further back to the other times he’d faced Wesker and been beaten, or had to try to fight him, only to lose and have Wesker escape death. It gives Chris too much time to realize how much of an idiot he’s been since his last encounter with Wesker, and the ones before that. It was his choice to come alone on this mission, to not call for back-up when the merest hint of Wesker showed up, and it meant that if he got out of this, he was probably going to be benched until their superiors got him in to see someone or something.
Not happening. Taking him out of the game to talk about his feelings, to evaluate him and just put him behind some desk wasn’t going to help anyone. He’d heard of some good being done, but all of it was by others who’d been there for the first few outbreaks - the few from STARS that managed to survive both the mansion and Raccoon City, or others who had joined after one event or another from escaped BOW. The groups of kids he’s training are all already hardened in their own ways, but a few of them are there for the world-travels or ability to get wealth - and they all know the dangers.
Because of wherever he is, not to mention the drug’s effects, Chris is unaware of the new arrivals until his chair is pulled back, turned, and hauled forward enough to jar his body and, thus, wake up his mind to things. The chair legs scraping loudly and he hears the return of the jeers and cheers from the guards, hears someone say something about the ‘new catches’ and bets being made of who they are, how many, and of what type. A cold sweat runs down Chris’ spine at the muddled words, fear at the lost hours here, not to mention what the guard’s talk could mean, bringing up his old doubts.
Fuck!
Someone, or a group, got caught, and that means that he’s only here because he’s about to be returned to Wesker. Chris lets out a yell of annoyance, grateful for his voice despite the rocking motions that require him to focus, right before he hears someone call his last name, a few others letting out gasps. Chris stills, recognizing the voice, and instantly a new fear creeps into his thoughts.
Marks…then…shit, no!
“Chris,” his name comes out as a purr from nearby, getting Chris to try to regulate his breathing as Wesker’s boots echo in the guard’s room, “I think you should properly welcome your rescue team.” Wesker pulls off the blindfold, Chris blinking at the sudden change in lighting and ducking his head as he struggles to move away from Wesker, the chair nearly falling backwards in his attempt but for Wesker’s grip on it, tilting it slightly back before pushing it up and moving to one side, allowing him a full view of his men. Zane Marks and Hosea Little are two men that Chris had trained, the young men having survived a BOW outbreak near their home and managed to rally who they could to help the few survivors escape. Zane is like Chris was in the past - tall, short hair in a military crew cut, and piercing dark eyes as opposed to Chris’ blue ones - but his face is different, more handsome, and clean-cut instead of the stubble that Chris always manages before the military regulations kick into his mind and he has to shave it all off. His hair is also far closer to a blonde color than Chris’ ever would be, not without the benefit of dye.
Hosea is different, with his curly dark hair and darker eyes, but no other features showing his Hebrew lineage, or the half-lineage he got from his mother’s side. He appeared worried for Chris, but also aware of the dangers as his eyes darted around towards the other men and especially to Wesker. The other two men Chris only knew from reputation - Hawkins was a strict professional, grizzled and ruggedly handsome in his own way, and Ramiro looked like he should be straight out of Zapata’s army, mustache and all.
Right now all four of them were handcuffed like he’d been, but all four were also at least in clothing - he was naked and covered in bruises, ass still burning from the abuse he’d suffered - and now Wesker cast a glance at them before looking back at Chris, reaching to run his thumb along near Chris’ upper lip and to pull the gag slightly, but not completely out.
“What’s the matter, Chris? Shouldn’t you be welcoming your saviors?” The guards laugh at that, Chris glaring at Wesker as the other man smirks at him, obviously relishing in his power over Chris and the others. This was always a possibility, but Chris never wanted them to be in any sort of danger, especially not from Wesker or his men. It would be red in Wesker’s already blood-soaked ledger, but also more dead friends and colleagues that Chris would have to answer for. That they were trapped here with him, with Wesker and his men, was Chris’ fault.
He’d misjudged, and now those others would pay for it.
Wesker shifts, moving to pull Chris’ head back, getting him to realize just how short the back of the chair he’s tied to is as his back bows with the pull. Wesker forces Chris to look at him as the captured men are stuck, waiting, while the guards look on lustfully, obviously salivating at the idea of getting the four new men to rape. Wesker was once more wearing his dark clothing, the trousers tight enough to show the outline of his erection as Wesker said, “You’ve been so vocal before…why not speak now? The blonde one seems particularly taken with you.” Chris continues to glares at Wesker as he lets go of Chris head, letting him sit up and look back at the four, trying to convey an apology for being such an idiot and getting them into this situation. Zane looks upset by it, as if the thought of Chris apologizing for them being here and in such danger is not something he should think about, and Hosea seems resigned but not about to accept that apology, his own, weak glare saying that he obviously takes responsibility for this instead of Chris. The other two are equally indignant at Chris’ attempt at a silent apology, though Hawkins looks a little unnerved by the amount of guards in the room.
Wesker thumb goes back to where the gag is, pulling it from Chris mouth and leaving it to dangle along his neck, like a loose collar, as Wesker grips his jaw painfully, tilting his head up so he can now glare at Wesker, who’s obviously pleased with himself and his ‘catch’, as well as what it’s doing to Chris. “I heard you were giving my men trouble. That you put four into the medical wing when they tried to use your mouth.” Wesker’s other hand tracing Chris’ lips and smirking as Chris tries to move away, the grip too strong to allow him any sort of movement. Wesker seems to find Chris’ continue resistance something to smile about, as he moves a hand to his trousers, palming his erection as Chris glares at him, humiliation already coming up at the thought of what might happen if he allows this. The others’ lives are on the line - when it was just Chris, he was fine with doing what he could to defend himself, consequences be damned, but now? Now there are others he’s responsible for.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Chris, slowly grinding,” Wesker says, reaching up to run his hand up into Chris’ hair, the grip on his jaw remaining steady as Wesker pats him, like some sort of dog. “If you don’t fight me in this, I’m going to assume I don’t have your attention. I do have your attention, don’t I?”
Chris glares at him, still silent. The hand on his jaw goes to his throat, lifting him easily, chair and all, as Zane yells out. The moment Zane yells and fights, Wesker drops Chris, sending him crashing to one side, the bruises and jarring change from choked to being on the floor sideways making Chris cough before he sees Wesker holding Zane off the ground, everyone silent as Zane struggles, unable to lift up his hands, cuffed as they were, to try to relieve the pressure as Wesker squeezed the life out of him.
“Wesker!” Chris yells, or tries to, his call coming out more like a croak as he pushes, trying to fight, finally yelling, “Don’t you dare, you fucking bastard! I’ll kill you!”
“Too little, too late, Chris,” Wesker says, Zane’s struggles growing weak before he’s dropped, also coughing as he draws in breath. Wesker watches him before kicking him hard, sending the younger man up with the force and causing the other three to try to come to his rescue, stopped by the guns against their heads as Zane lands back on the ground, groaning but alive, at least for now. Wesker glances at Chris, apparently upset by his look still on Zane, if the fact that he’s once more facing Wesker with a hand on his throat is any indication.
“I thought I explained this to you, Chris. Or do I not have your attention?”
“b-bas-tard-l-let-m-me-go,” Chris manages to choke out, the answer getting Wesker to tilt his head, as if listening as Chris feels the added weight start to pull on his neck, the tight restraint keeping him from falling or breathing as he stops his movement, focusing on trying to stay awake before Wesker once more drops him. This time the chair staying upright, Chris’ attempt to pull in air being the only reason he doesn’t see Wesker move to the side, not until he turns Chris head painfully to shove his freed cock down Chris’ throat.
Chris chokes on it, his instinct to bite down starting right before Wesker grabs his jaw, the pressure holding it open as he keeps it there, Chris struggling to pull in breath and curse as Wesker commands, “Take them.”
Chris barely manages to look over, seeing two of the guards roughly pick up the struggling and dazed Zane as Hosea calls for him, the other man doing his best to fight back as he’s shoved over the side of a couch nearby while the other two are taken further back, out of Chris’ line of sight though both let out cries of pain that seem to indicate they aren’t being made to suck dick like Chris is.
Wesker begins to move at that, his pace as quick as when he’d violated Chris before, the hand on his jaw powerful enough to hold him still as Chris does his best to fight, to pull back or change the angle and use it to his advantage to cause Wesker more pain then pleasure. However, the hold is too tight for him to do more than just try, and the pain when he squeezes nearly causes Chris to cry out around the meaty cock in his mouth. Between the pain the humiliation of being violated in front of his men right before their own violation, and the lack of air from having a cock go down his throat, Wesker pushing it in deep enough to nearly get Chris to choke more than once, he doesn’t realize what’s going on until he feels someone land on his lap, a guard saying darkly, “You want a taste of your supervisor’s cock?” before he feels someone’s hot, panting breath along his flaccid cock. Chris panics at that, Wesker seeming to figure it out enough to stop his assault and instead pull out, letting go of Chris’ jaw in favor of using one hand, slick with Wesker’s own pre-cum, to pull at Chris cock while the other teases Chris’ nipples and chest.
“You piece of shit bastards, let him go!” Chris yells as the guard grabs the still-dazed Zane, shoving his mouth down on Chris’ half-hard cock and forcing it to bob as Chris starts to curse at the undeniably pleasurable sensation. Wesker’s hand keeps Zane from taking it all whole, and the pressure and feel of Wesker’s soft glove, not to mention the hot breath and slickness from Zane’s mouth gets Chris to involuntarily let out a groan of pleasure, his mind rebelling at what was happening. No, he can’t be used as some sort of instrument for Zane’s torture too! He won’t!
Wesker straightens from where he’d been leaning over to ‘help’ Zane, the cum-coated hand going to Chris cheek as the other ones goes back to his jaw. Just as Chris began to curse them again, Wesker turns Chis’ head and shoves his own cock back down Chris’ throat, forcing him to deep-throat it again. The inhuman thing keeps it there as Chris shifts and struggles to breathe, the pleasure from Zane being raped on Chris’ dick getting Chris’ hips to react involuntarily, jerking upwards. Chris doesn’t quite realize what was happening until he hears Zane choke himself on the sudden deepthroating that Chris had given him as well. Wesker’s laugh fills Chris with anger and shame, his inability to control his body’s actions having caused someone else to get hurt.
“He seems to like that,” Wesker’s taunting voice makes the guard laugh, Chris trying to yell at them but unable to as Wesker begins to fuck his face, the pace as steady and hard as the beginning when he took Chris’ ass, giving Chris hardly any time to fight back or even think, his body and mind too focused on the need for air, as well as the pleasure/pain signals it was getting. Some part of his mind was confused and angry at his body, for giving in when Wesker touched him when he’d managed to fight off and not respond to the guards when they were attacking him and trying to fuck him.
He hears Zane choke again as he’s pushed down onto Chris’ cock, feels the instinctive swallowing motion around his own cock and ends up moaning around Wesker’s cock in response. Chris closes his eyes, not wanting to watch this, but the earlier sensory-deprivation makes that hard, his skin now far more sensitive as Zane continues to bob up and down, head forced down as Chris’ body rejects his mind’s attempt to control it, instead going on instinct and jerking up and into the wet, warm hole.
Wesker doesn’t laugh, instead pulling out his cock and slapping Chris hard, forcing Chris to open his eyes at the pain, seeing Hosea being taken by two men, one on each end, as another jerked off over his back. The other two are further in but Chris can now see them, one being fucked over a table by three men, the other either unconscious or gagged as he’s fucked mercilessly over another table, the jerking seeming to signal how close the guard is to coming. Wesker’s hand forces Chris’ head, and thus his eyes, back to the shade-covered eyes of his former commander as he begins to pant at the buildup of pleasure.
“Don’t look away from this, Chris. What did I just say about attention?”
“f-fuck you…” Chris manages to pant out, the air allowing him to think straight for a moment before Wesker pulls Chris’ head forward, back onto Wesker’s pale cock. This time Chris manages a brief bite, the hold on the side of his head instead of against his jaw, but Wesker only laughs at that, pulling out to readjust his hold back to Chris jaw, looking down with a smirk at his glare, before going back to fucking his mouth. Zane lets out his own moan around Chris cock, Chris seeing that the guard had pulled down Zane’s trousers, using Zane’s own belt to redden the younger man’s ass with light slaps. Wesker’s two hands were now being used to hold both Chris and Zane, forcing them both to suck cock as Wesker lets out a groan, speeding up his thrusts as Chris feels his own body begin to do the same, the sounds that Zane made with each hit on his reddening ass and the motion that Wesker is forcing him to do only serving to make Chris’ body react as well, hips jerking up to meet Zane’s mouth as it goes down on him.
Wesker’s pace picks as Chris’ groans from the pleasure starts to peak, Zane’s own sounds almost turning to similar moans. Chris glances over and sees the guard had stopped hitting him, instead working his fingers expertly into Zane, each movement getting Zane to moan and start to push his hips back on them. The guard is starting to push faster and harder into Zane, the younger man shaking as he gets closer to release, starting to suck Chris’ cock instead of being choked by it. Chris feels himself blush at the realization even as Wesker’s pace becomes almost brutal, as Chris feels the pressure building up, his hips shaking and losing their rhythm right before he lets out a muffled yell, cumming down Zane’s throat. The younger man groans as well, choking a bit on the cum before he’s pulled off, some of it getting on his face before Zane lets out his own yell of surprise, impaled deep on the guard’s dick as he begins to pump in and out of him, pulling him away from the other two. Chris’ attention goes back to Wesker the moment he feels the sudden jerking sensation, Wesker letting out a satisfied yell before pushing in again, cumming down Chris’ throat.
Chris barely manages to cough most of it back up, some going down his throat simply because it hit the back of it or when he finally managed to take in a deep breath. Chris spits the rest at Wesker as he laughs, moving to pull apart the ropes holding Chris and picking him up easily, pulling him out towards the door as the guards continue around them. Chris glares at him, shame and humiliation warring through him as Wesker holds him, the smirk on his face as he locks glowing eyes with Chris’ blue ones.
“Time for some privacy, Chris, and the real training to begin.”.