Anon posting is not required, but most definitely allowed. If you think you recognise an anon, keep it to yourself and don’t out them. IP tracking is off, and will remain that way.
Multiple fills are encouraged, and all kinds of fills are accepted! Fic, art,
( Read more... )
Re: Complications Part 10
anonymous
July 21 2014, 00:24:45 UTC
Harriet felt Sherlock minutely increase his grip on her as the footsteps came closer, and closer.. and she hugged him back just as tightly as she realised their intended destination. Her voice was nothing more than a wavering whisper as she tried to offer what little comfort she could.
"It will be okay, just.. go away in your head. I'll be here when it's all over, I'll look after you. Keep thinking of freedom."
Sherlock felt his pulse jumping erratically as the two bosses came to a halt outside their cell, and glared right at him with hatred blazing in their eyes as they held a tazer level with his chest.
"Lie down on your stomach, hands on your head. You move one muscle and I'll taze you /then/ fuck you. Nice way or hard way, your choice."
The detective chose the nice way, and only clutched desperately to his only lifeline for a moment longer before allowing her to scramble away to the opposite side of their shared living space. He did as instructed, and didn't so much as flinch while they secured Irish eights around his wrists, and dragged him back to his feet.
"Walk. No shit from you this time, you've already got enough to regret."
He shivered, yet his legs felt numb as they carried him forwards, seemingly against his will towards the door that the men had emerged from. The inmates he passed all seemed to shrink away to the backs of their cells before the glum procession, and Sherlock wondered what horrors they had all endured to make them so fearful. Every single one of these people were utterly broken. How does any human being manage to cause that amount of damage in another?
'Won't be long before you know the answer to that, and you'll wish you didn't' his own mind helpfully supplied.
It felt like walking to his own execution. As they passed through the open door into the lavishly furnished room beyond, he knew he'd never go back to the man he was before. One glance at the place, with it's perverse tools of torture all proudly displayed, and he knew he was going to leave with scars. Physically, mental, emotional. A hat trick.
Re: Complications Part 11
anonymous
July 21 2014, 01:20:38 UTC
((Sorry that part was too long so had to split into two. Anyway from here be scenes of very graphic rape and torture, so those of a squeamish disposition look away now.))
The same eleven men who'd been privy to his capture at the club earlier were all present, all with the same hateful expressions which Sherlock knew he at least partly had earned directed towards him. The Russian guy, whom he overheard being referred to as 'Sergei' (so nice to put a name to the face), lead him to the bed that took pride and centre of the room, and backed him into it until his knees hit the edge and he was forced to topple over onto the surprisingly soft mattress. He expected tearing hands then, expected to be ganged up on by all and sundry until they got what they clearly wanted.. but nothing happened.
Instead, Sergei held out his hand for the tazer gun his companion had been wielding, and casually leaned back on a desk (the one bearing all manner of objects that Sherlock preferred not to look at directly) as though bored. There was a hungry spark in his eyes that he couldn't quite disguise however, and Sherlock felt a shudder of loathing run up his spine with the knowledge that this man wanted him. He was about to offer some goading remark out of spite, when the thick tones of his least favourite man in the universe cut him off before he could so much as open his mouth.
"We play a game. We ask you to do things for us, and you obey. You perform good and you get certain.. treats. You perform bad and, well.. " He waved the tazer casually in the air. "We make life very, VERY painful. This is phase one punishment, you don't wanna see phase two. Clear so far?"
"Crystal."
"Ah this is good yes. So treats.. I'm feeling I must elaborate. See.. we own you, we can do anything we are wanting to you and nobody will care, but we treating well who treat /us/ well. If you are good we feed you. If you are good we give medicine when you are sick." Here the Russian's cold blue eyes flashed dangerously, and Sherlock knew he wouldn't like what he was about to hear. "If you are good, we don't all dry fuck you till you bleed out on the carpet."
Oh.. no he certainly hadn't liked that at all. He could feel the blood rushing away from his face leaving him white as a sheet, as he realised just how much pain could be inflicted by the use of bodies alone, never mind the instruments he still couldn't quite pretend didn't exist right there on the desk.
"You strip, I will be unlocking handcuffs but don't you be trying to run now. The door behind me is locked and I will be making you regret trying."
Sherlock swallowed hard, flicked his gaze to each man in turn and saw no pity in a single one of them as Sergei unlocked his cuffs as promised, then sat back to watch as the detective nervously fingered the buttons of his shirt. He knew this would all go easier if he would just comply.. he knew he had to remain in control for as long as possible. Pain made it so difficult to concentrate.
Harriet's words of comfort echoed in his mind 'just.. go away in your head.' He tried to pretend he was at home, in the comfort of his own room at 221b Baker Street, just getting changed. Yeah that was all.. he wasn't being watched by a group of other men as he shed his shirt and his jeans quickly, methodically, trying to be as totally UNsexy as possible. Sherlock felt goosebumps rising all over his skin as he sat perched on the very edge of the bed, totally naked, waiting for further instructions. Shame burned as he felt eyes boring into him like lasers, taking in every millimetre and owning it.
Perhaps now was a bad time to remember that the only sexual experiences he'd had so far to date were all involving his own right hand.
"You /are/ pretty.. pretty as a girl everywhere! I bet you even get all wet for us and everything!" He didn't even know who'd said that, he didn't much care, he just wished they would all have a sudden strike of conscience before going through with this.
Re: Complications Part 12
anonymous
July 21 2014, 01:22:18 UTC
Sergei hummed in approval as he unzipped his flies and pulled his semi erect cock out shamelessly, giving it a few firm tugs and smiling when Sherlock couldn't look away. The man was huge! He felt his jaw go slack as he stared at the engorged cock, quickly darkening with increased blood flow as the Russian casually wanked in front of everyone.
Sergei laughed at his expression, and stood in front of Sherlock then, thrusting his now fully erect penis into the detectives face and holding the back of his head before he could pull away.
"Put your pretty mouth to good use. I am sure you are knowing what to do."
Sherlock panicked as the weeping head of Sergei's cock brushed against his lips, and gagged even as he instinctively wrenched away from his captors grasp. He found that the others had all moved in close behind him, ready to hold him in place however, and he cried out as he was pulled down to the floor and forced onto his knees while Sergei sat in the space he'd vacated, knees either side of Sherlock's head, grinning as Sherlock was pinned mercilessly by the other men. The detective, even in his moment of panic, noticed flashes of white light going off every few seconds, and knew someone was taking pictures. He honestly thought he might cry.
"No.. please no just.. please.. my brother he'll pay you anything you want, just let me g-" Something cold and wet brushed against his backside and he jumped forwards away from the touch, gasping in fear.. and Sergei used the lapse in concentration to force Sherlocks head down, sliding himself past Sherlocks lips and right to the back of his throat, where the detective gagged around the intruding length.
He retched and choked but still the relentless pressure on the back of his head held him steady. Salt and bitter, acrid unpleasantness spread over his tongue, and his senses were invaded by the overpowering musk that seemed to be enveloping his every cell, clinging. He knew that scent wouldn't wash out no matter how hard he scrubbed. The groan as Sergei began thrusting slowly in and out, getting deeper down Sherlock's throat each time, was also something he wouldn't be forgetting. There would be nightmares.. terrible nightmares.. but they would pale in comparison to the living one he was enduring at that moment.
The Russian fucked his throat carelessly, not concerned with the pain it caused his victim, but he never allowed Sherlock to black out from lack of oxygen. Just as his vision began to darken the intrusion would pull out, and he would gasp in great lungfuls of air before being forced back onto the length. It was agony. His throat was raw and bleeding, the fingers in his hair tearing and nails scratching his scalp. The hands holding him still were bruising tight. The slicked up finger probing his entrance was almost nothing compared to the pain he was already going through.. until another was added and he was stretched beyond the level of discomfort.
Re: Complications Part 13
anonymous
July 21 2014, 01:22:55 UTC
((Short part but the character limit on these posts fucked me over -_- ))
Sherlock felt tears leaking from the corner of his eyes as Sergei picked up his pace, laughing along with his friends as he rammed his cock again and again down his throat, and he couldn't stop himself from crying out. His voice was muffled around the engorged organ he was currently sucking off, and he could tell by the way Sergei hissed under his breath that the vibrations of Sherlock's voice had felt good. That more than anything else made shame twist in Sherlock's guts. The last thing he wanted to do was give Sergei pleasure by choice, even accidentally.
Finally with a shuddering groan the Russian came, shooting hot ropes of thick hot ejaculate down Sherlock's windpipe, and he was finally left to retch out the contents of his stomach onto the carpet as Sergei pulled his head back and away.
"Tut.. that was expensive. Oh well you are worth more, for being such a good lay. I could have you every day and never get bored of that pretty little mouth."
Sherlock tried not to whimper as his cheek was caressed almost tenderly, but wasn't sure he was entirely successful. He wasn't sure of anything any more. Except that it hurt.. it /still/ hurt. Ah.. of course someone was still finger fucking him from behind, that might explain why.
He dropped his head to the edge of the bed and bit the covers as a third finger was added, and he felt his entrance tear. The fingers were well lubricated, but he was a virgin, and nothing even close to relaxed enough to allow that kind of intrusion. It was only going to get worse too Sherlock thought with a groan, especially if Sergei's friends were even half as big as he had been.
'Please dear god let this be over soon' Sherlock pleaded silently.
"It will be okay, just.. go away in your head. I'll be here when it's all over, I'll look after you. Keep thinking of freedom."
Sherlock felt his pulse jumping erratically as the two bosses came to a halt outside their cell, and glared right at him with hatred blazing in their eyes as they held a tazer level with his chest.
"Lie down on your stomach, hands on your head. You move one muscle and I'll taze you /then/ fuck you. Nice way or hard way, your choice."
The detective chose the nice way, and only clutched desperately to his only lifeline for a moment longer before allowing her to scramble away to the opposite side of their shared living space. He did as instructed, and didn't so much as flinch while they secured Irish eights around his wrists, and dragged him back to his feet.
"Walk. No shit from you this time, you've already got enough to regret."
He shivered, yet his legs felt numb as they carried him forwards, seemingly against his will towards the door that the men had emerged from. The inmates he passed all seemed to shrink away to the backs of their cells before the glum procession, and Sherlock wondered what horrors they had all endured to make them so fearful. Every single one of these people were utterly broken. How does any human being manage to cause that amount of damage in another?
'Won't be long before you know the answer to that, and you'll wish you didn't' his own mind helpfully supplied.
It felt like walking to his own execution. As they passed through the open door into the lavishly furnished room beyond, he knew he'd never go back to the man he was before. One glance at the place, with it's perverse tools of torture all proudly displayed, and he knew he was going to leave with scars. Physically, mental, emotional. A hat trick.
Reply
The same eleven men who'd been privy to his capture at the club earlier were all present, all with the same hateful expressions which Sherlock knew he at least partly had earned directed towards him. The Russian guy, whom he overheard being referred to as 'Sergei' (so nice to put a name to the face), lead him to the bed that took pride and centre of the room, and backed him into it until his knees hit the edge and he was forced to topple over onto the surprisingly soft mattress. He expected tearing hands then, expected to be ganged up on by all and sundry until they got what they clearly wanted.. but nothing happened.
Instead, Sergei held out his hand for the tazer gun his companion had been wielding, and casually leaned back on a desk (the one bearing all manner of objects that Sherlock preferred not to look at directly) as though bored. There was a hungry spark in his eyes that he couldn't quite disguise however, and Sherlock felt a shudder of loathing run up his spine with the knowledge that this man wanted him. He was about to offer some goading remark out of spite, when the thick tones of his least favourite man in the universe cut him off before he could so much as open his mouth.
"We play a game. We ask you to do things for us, and you obey. You perform good and you get certain.. treats. You perform bad and, well.. " He waved the tazer casually in the air. "We make life very, VERY painful. This is phase one punishment, you don't wanna see phase two. Clear so far?"
"Crystal."
"Ah this is good yes. So treats.. I'm feeling I must elaborate. See.. we own you, we can do anything we are wanting to you and nobody will care, but we treating well who treat /us/ well. If you are good we feed you. If you are good we give medicine when you are sick." Here the Russian's cold blue eyes flashed dangerously, and Sherlock knew he wouldn't like what he was about to hear. "If you are good, we don't all dry fuck you till you bleed out on the carpet."
Oh.. no he certainly hadn't liked that at all. He could feel the blood rushing away from his face leaving him white as a sheet, as he realised just how much pain could be inflicted by the use of bodies alone, never mind the instruments he still couldn't quite pretend didn't exist right there on the desk.
"You strip, I will be unlocking handcuffs but don't you be trying to run now. The door behind me is locked and I will be making you regret trying."
Sherlock swallowed hard, flicked his gaze to each man in turn and saw no pity in a single one of them as Sergei unlocked his cuffs as promised, then sat back to watch as the detective nervously fingered the buttons of his shirt. He knew this would all go easier if he would just comply.. he knew he had to remain in control for as long as possible. Pain made it so difficult to concentrate.
Harriet's words of comfort echoed in his mind 'just.. go away in your head.' He tried to pretend he was at home, in the comfort of his own room at 221b Baker Street, just getting changed. Yeah that was all.. he wasn't being watched by a group of other men as he shed his shirt and his jeans quickly, methodically, trying to be as totally UNsexy as possible. Sherlock felt goosebumps rising all over his skin as he sat perched on the very edge of the bed, totally naked, waiting for further instructions. Shame burned as he felt eyes boring into him like lasers, taking in every millimetre and owning it.
Perhaps now was a bad time to remember that the only sexual experiences he'd had so far to date were all involving his own right hand.
"You /are/ pretty.. pretty as a girl everywhere! I bet you even get all wet for us and everything!" He didn't even know who'd said that, he didn't much care, he just wished they would all have a sudden strike of conscience before going through with this.
Reply
Sergei laughed at his expression, and stood in front of Sherlock then, thrusting his now fully erect penis into the detectives face and holding the back of his head before he could pull away.
"Put your pretty mouth to good use. I am sure you are knowing what to do."
Sherlock panicked as the weeping head of Sergei's cock brushed against his lips, and gagged even as he instinctively wrenched away from his captors grasp. He found that the others had all moved in close behind him, ready to hold him in place however, and he cried out as he was pulled down to the floor and forced onto his knees while Sergei sat in the space he'd vacated, knees either side of Sherlock's head, grinning as Sherlock was pinned mercilessly by the other men. The detective, even in his moment of panic, noticed flashes of white light going off every few seconds, and knew someone was taking pictures. He honestly thought he might cry.
"No.. please no just.. please.. my brother he'll pay you anything you want, just let me g-" Something cold and wet brushed against his backside and he jumped forwards away from the touch, gasping in fear.. and Sergei used the lapse in concentration to force Sherlocks head down, sliding himself past Sherlocks lips and right to the back of his throat, where the detective gagged around the intruding length.
He retched and choked but still the relentless pressure on the back of his head held him steady. Salt and bitter, acrid unpleasantness spread over his tongue, and his senses were invaded by the overpowering musk that seemed to be enveloping his every cell, clinging. He knew that scent wouldn't wash out no matter how hard he scrubbed. The groan as Sergei began thrusting slowly in and out, getting deeper down Sherlock's throat each time, was also something he wouldn't be forgetting. There would be nightmares.. terrible nightmares.. but they would pale in comparison to the living one he was enduring at that moment.
The Russian fucked his throat carelessly, not concerned with the pain it caused his victim, but he never allowed Sherlock to black out from lack of oxygen. Just as his vision began to darken the intrusion would pull out, and he would gasp in great lungfuls of air before being forced back onto the length. It was agony. His throat was raw and bleeding, the fingers in his hair tearing and nails scratching his scalp. The hands holding him still were bruising tight. The slicked up finger probing his entrance was almost nothing compared to the pain he was already going through.. until another was added and he was stretched beyond the level of discomfort.
Reply
Sherlock felt tears leaking from the corner of his eyes as Sergei picked up his pace, laughing along with his friends as he rammed his cock again and again down his throat, and he couldn't stop himself from crying out. His voice was muffled around the engorged organ he was currently sucking off, and he could tell by the way Sergei hissed under his breath that the vibrations of Sherlock's voice had felt good. That more than anything else made shame twist in Sherlock's guts. The last thing he wanted to do was give Sergei pleasure by choice, even accidentally.
Finally with a shuddering groan the Russian came, shooting hot ropes of thick hot ejaculate down Sherlock's windpipe, and he was finally left to retch out the contents of his stomach onto the carpet as Sergei pulled his head back and away.
"Tut.. that was expensive. Oh well you are worth more, for being such a good lay. I could have you every day and never get bored of that pretty little mouth."
Sherlock tried not to whimper as his cheek was caressed almost tenderly, but wasn't sure he was entirely successful. He wasn't sure of anything any more. Except that it hurt.. it /still/ hurt. Ah.. of course someone was still finger fucking him from behind, that might explain why.
He dropped his head to the edge of the bed and bit the covers as a third finger was added, and he felt his entrance tear. The fingers were well lubricated, but he was a virgin, and nothing even close to relaxed enough to allow that kind of intrusion. It was only going to get worse too Sherlock thought with a groan, especially if Sergei's friends were even half as big as he had been.
'Please dear god let this be over soon' Sherlock pleaded silently.
Reply
Oh Sherlock :(
(admittedly I like all the angst though)
Reply
Yeah.. it's gonna get better for him though I promise! Eventually.. >.>
Things are going to get so much worse before they get better though.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment