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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1423497--His-Pet--Chapter-Eight
Rated: GC · Chapter · Drama · #1423497
Man,Beast,Victim..at the mercy of a twisted warden, what choice is there?He's "His Pet."
Chapter 8

Riker's Correctional Facility
Riker's Island, NY
Friday, June 21st

The primal roar of pain and rage echoed through the deserted asylum. Blood and sweat trickled down the man's heavily muscled torso as he stumbled and fell hard to his knees. His arms were useless bound behind him as they were. His still form made an easy target, and the cutting bite of the whip forced him unsteadily back to his feet. He spun, trying desperately to avoid the Nazi fuck and his merciless taser. The whip licked at his ankles, making him dance awkwardly and eliciting laughter from his tormentors. Another hard strike of the taser knotted the big man's muscles, sending him crashing to the floor writhing in agony.

"Come on fag boy. You can't be done yet," Schottenheimer taunted, burying the toe of his heavy boot in Batista's stomach. "Maybe we should go get that pretty little butt buddy of yours and see how tough he is."

The Warden smiled as his pet bellowed his answer to the challenge, staggering to his feet and bull rushing the startled hack. The convict's shoulder smashed into Schottenheimer's mid section, knocking the air out of him and driving him into the wall. The refresher lesson was going well. He could feel his shaft hardening, watching the raw animalistic power and savagery of his pet. He had decided to add a little twist to the next game to spice things up. The last couple of weeks, Batista had been obedient, but not as hungry and brutal as his master desired. That was about to change. This tune up would serve to remind the beast exactly what type of punishment his master could dish out when disappointed.

Schottenheimer pressed the taser hard against the inmate's corded neck and was rewarded with instant freedom as Batista crumbled. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the officer held the arc punishing his insubordination. The Warden stepped in, plying the whip viciously as Batista tried weakly to get to his feet. He stumbled and fell again, the pain and blood loss leaving him slightly dizzy and uncoordinated. He hung his mighty head, for the moment unable to rise. His massive chest rose and fell like bellows at the forge. He seemed lost in the pain of the whip as he knelt there trying to catch his breath. Suddenly, he threw his head back and screamed his fury. The bellow spoke of pain, desperation, and loneliness. Only one within hearing cared.

Summer LeBlanc stood to the side, fighting the bile that rose up in her throat at the cruelty of the Warden and Correctional Officer Schottenheimer. This beating had been going on for well over an hour, and she wasn't sure David could take much more. The last image she had of her brother, Charlie, just three days past, now bruised and beaten, scared and lonely, danced in her tortured mind, blending with David's. Tears streamed unheeded down her cheeks as she watched David try unsuccessfully to get to his feet. She took an involuntary step forward as Schottenheimer's boot found the back of his knee sending him down hard face first.
She could feel the Warden's cold gaze upon her, but could not check the soft sobs that wracked her. As warped and twisted as it was, she had developed feelings...a rapport with David over the past couple of weeks. It was sick what they were doing to this man. They were successfully stripping him of every last bit of humanity. The Warden was molding him into the ultimate killing machine. In time, he would be nothing but an animal. He barely looked more then that now, but late at night, that man held her shivering naked form in his arms and comforted her.

An evil glint in his grey eyes, the Warden stepped the pace up a bit. He wielded the whip expertly; never breaking a sweat. The lash of the whip licked at his ribs and wrapped around him to leave angry welts over his six-pack. Blood trails streaked his upper body where the lash broke the skin and soaked the waist band of his grey work pants. Schottenheimer swept in like the vulture he was, to torture the big man with the taser over and over again. He laughed pressing the weapon to Batista's back, watching the poor bastard jerk, his mighty muscles spasming, and mouth wide in a silent scream. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Releasing the arc, the big Aryan looked challengingly to the Warden. His smirk and sparkling blue eyes seemed to dare the man to take Batista's pain to a new level.

Gasping and sobbing for breath, Batista slumped forward his broad forehead pressed to the soothing coolness of the cement floor. Anger seared through his brain. Gritting his teeth, he growled and twisted with far more grace then one would normally expect from a man of his size, lashing out with bare feet. The blow caught the officer by surprise, knocking him to the floor. The taser skidded just out of his reach. Batista was on the smaller man in a flash, his white teeth bared as he went for the throat. Summer screamed as David's teeth sank into Schottenheimer's throat, cutting the hack's angry curses off in a sickening gurgle. Blood spurted unchecked as the enraged beast twisted his sequoia neck savagely and raised his head from his prey, flesh dangling from his barbaric snarl.

Warden Donald Souder's face was expressionless as he locked eyes with his pet. Deep in the pit of his stomach, he felt the tiniest niggling of fear coupled with a previously unparalleled excitement as he watched the blood dripping from Batista's sinister snarl. Correctional Officer Schottenheimer's body twitched. His eyes were wide and unseeing. A strangled gurgle announced his passing and all was still. Souder's full and undivided attention snapped back to the monstrous figure before him as the big man rose slowly from his crouch. His movements seemed very sure, where only minutes before, he had been unsteady on his feet. Blood still flowed from the corners of his lips. His nostrils flared. His noble head lowered slightly and obsidian orbs glittered menacingly as he advanced towards the man he called Master.

"Well done David," the older man whispered in a silky smooth voice. He didn't let the superior smirk reach his lips as he watched the big man hesitate in confusion. "After such an inspired showing you deserve a VERY SPECIAL treat," he continued.

David's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but his head cocked slightly as he stilled and listened.

Keeping one eye on his highly agitated pet, the Warden glanced at Correctional Officer LeBlanc. He was relieved to see that the harlot had pulled herself together, all though, she was obviously shaken. "Bring me Taylor Tomlinson."

"NO!" Batista thundered, the fire back in his ebony eyes.

The Warden held his hands up hastily demanding silence from his pet and fought the impulse to back away as Batista moved closer. Even with the big man's arms safely secured behind his back, he was a force to be reckoned with. The fool Schottenheimer had discovered that the hard and lethal way.

"Calm down David. I am VERY pleased with you. As a reward for your tremendous break through, I have decided to grant you some time with your...lover," he soothed in a voice soft and oily smooth, barely hesitating over the term of lover.

"LEAVE TAYLOR OUT OF THIS!" Batista roared. His biceps bulged and the cords in his massive neck stood out grotesquely as he strained at his restraints.

"Do as you're told officer LeBlanc," he ordered, his voice still soft but with the snap of command that got her moving. Taylor had always been, and would continue to be, the ultimate trump card. The beast had a ridiculous soft spot for the handsome blond. To the Warden it seemed an absurd amount of devotion for a piece of ass, but it was an advantage he could use. Perhaps someday, his pet would learn as he had, that the bitches were more trouble then they were worth.

Batista's breath was coming in short harsh gasps as he strained dangerously and panic started to overwhelm him. Screaming his frustration through clenched teeth, he wrenched at his bound wrists. He could feel the sticky warmth of fresh blood as the zip strip cut deeper into his mangled wrists. Rage flowed through his veins like napalm. His heart hammered in his chest. He would kill this rotten son of a bitch before he allowed him to harm Taylor. Taylor was everything to him. Taylor loved him. Taylor believed in him. Both were something that no one else had ever done. He was innocence and light. He grimaced at his poetic bull shit, but there was no denying Taylor was his salvation.

He watched the master through lowered lashes trying to read the man. He seemed genuinely pleased. He didn't seem angry about that fuck Schottenheimer at all. That confused him. His heavy brow furrowed as he struggled to understand the man in front of him. He felt dizzy. What in the fuck did he want? He blew out an exasperated snort through his nose and couldn't help notice the slight tensing in the master. The corner of his lip turned up slightly. The fucker better fear him. The smile got a little bigger as he thought of Taylor. If his lover could read his thoughts, he would have chided David for his atrocious language. He always quipped that such foulness should not pour from lips so beautiful. It was sappy drivel, but it made warmth spiral in the pit of his stomach. He was tired, so damn tired.

David's head whipped up as he heard the gate at the end of the block open. The shock and horror on his lover's face was visible even from a distance. He must look quite the sight. He took a step forward despite his weariness. The master was NOT going to hurt Taylor while breath remained in his body. The master's voice in the silence startled him.

"Tomlinson, Batista's been hurt. Please take care of him."

David stared at the man, but the master met his gaze squarely. LeBlanc released Taylor and he made a beeline towards his lover. Batista whirled with a growl, making Taylor change his path to swing wide of the Warden coming in behind David. The big man flinched as Taylor's beautiful, long fingers flicked over him in a nervous inventory. A soft, almost keening noise came from deep in the blond's chest as he saw the damage.

"Please, can we release his hands?" he implored the Warden.

The warden pulled a small blade from his pocket. David immediately moved himself more firmly in front of Taylor. His massive form completely hid the six-foot man from sight.

"Really Pet, you have such a suspicious mind." The Warden chuckled and dropped the knife to kick it across the floor.

David didn't move or relax his stance. Looking cautiously at his lover, Taylor bent down and retrieved the knife. Fresh blood flowed as he cut the restraints, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Follow me gentlemen," the Warden instructed, and turning on a heel, stalked towards the Asylum's offices. Taylor tried to wrap an arm around David's waist as he swayed on his feet. He flinched and shrugged the smaller man's arm off. He stepped in front of Taylor again as they started slowly down the hall, determined to protect him.

They followed the Warden into one of the larger offices, then into an adjoining room. The adjoining room was an efficiency apartment. There was a tiny bathroom, kitchenette, and sofa bed. The Warden stepped aside and motioned the two men deeper into the room. His cold eyes bore into Taylor's.

"What you need will be brought to you. In the mean time, you take care of him in anyway he sees fit. Do you understand?"

Taylor nodded mutely, not trusting his voice at the moment. David watched the master warily as he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The sound of the lock slipping home seemed to echo in the small room. Both men stood in the center of the room for a long moment, lost in their private thoughts. David took a step and swayed dangerously on his feet. Taylor immediately moved to steer his lover to a nearby chair. The big man sat down heavily. His forearms rested across his thighs as he hung his head in weariness. Checking the bathroom, Taylor returned with a cool, wet rag. Kneeling in front of his lover, he gently cleaned the blood and sweat from his face. He crooned soothingly to the big man as he worked his way over the massive torso.

Watching David worriedly, Taylor made trip after trip to the sink to rinse out the rag. David never moved. His dark eyes were closed. His breathing sounded harsh in the silence. Several of the deeper gashes in his bronzed back continued to bleed despite Taylor's best efforts. The blood soaked waist band worried him. He had no idea how much blood David had lost. Questions whirled through his mind. What had David done to warrant such a savage beating? How long had it gone on? What part did the bloodied body of Schottenheimer play? Taylor's stomach rolled as the gory image of the dead hack flashed through his mind. He shivered. The crimson mask that had covered David's snarling visage and stained his normally pearly white teeth would forever haunt his dreams. He jumped as a large hand grasped his wrist.

David's heart sunk as he saw the shadow of fear in his lover's blue eyes. Trust didn't come easy to the gorgeous blond, for good reasons. Prison was no picnic for the most hardened of men, but for a sheltered, high society, male model, the transition had been pure hell. By the time David had transferred in, Taylor had already been the cell blocks play toy. His cell mate, Conrad, a fat, greasy, malodorous, tattoo covered Hell's Angel want to be, had been pimping him out to who ever he pleased when he wasn't sampling Taylor's many talents himself. He had been beaten and raped so many times, even he had lost track. By this time, he had learned the hard way that fighting back was futile. He had been half starved, Conrad feeling he could help himself to Taylor's food as easily as a piece of ass.

In the short time Riker's Big House had been open, Conrad had been busy establishing himself as something of the Big Dog. David had come in with a pretty nasty reputation, from New York State's nastiest Big House, Sing Sing. In addition to Sing Sing, he had spent time at Clinton, the largest of New York's seventy Correctional Facilities, and Auburn. He was both well known by, and acquainted with, a good number of the new facility's residents. His arrival at Riker's had been ill received by the self-appointed Big Dog, and the bets started rolling in.

To no one's surprise, David and Conrad had clashed immediately. It hadn't taken ol' Conrad long to realize he had bitten off more then he could chew. In a desperate bid to keep his "stroke" in the cell block, he had tried to make friends with the big man. He had graciously offered up a free sample of Taylor's services as a gesture of good will, figuring any one that had been incarcerated for five years, on this trip, wouldn't pass up a piece of ass. What he hadn't counted on, was David liking it well enough that he decided to keep Taylor for his own. Before the bewildered red neck had known what hit him, David had put a word in the right hack's ear, and Taylor had been moved in with him.

Both men jumped as the dead bolt sounded again. David stood and determinedly thrust Taylor behind him. He relaxed slightly when it was only Leblanc that pushed the door open cautiously, her hand resting lightly on her night stick. Watching the two of them, she stepped back and pushed a heavily laden cart into view. Pushing the cart into the room, she glanced uncertainly at David again. The uncomfortable silence stretched out for what seemed an eternity.

"Are you going to be ok?" she finally asked, clearing her throat softly.

The corner of David's beautiful lips quirked up in a half smile, and he nodded.
"I'll be fine."

This time she nodded, then stood, studying the floor intently for several long moments.

"It was self defense," she murmured, raising her head to meet David's gaze. Matching ebony eyes spoke volumes as they held. A tear trickled down Summer's bronzed cheek. "He could have killed you." The lump in her throat made the words come out a strangled whisper.

"A part of me wishes he had." David admitted quietly.

Summer shook her head in mute disagreement as Taylor stepped hastily from behind his lover's protective bulk.

"NO David! Please don't say that. I LOVE you!" he cried, reaching up to cup David's face in his hands.

The big man smiled down at his distraught lover, but there was only sadness in his eyes.

"You don't understand Tay. The things he makes me do..." His big body shuddered in revulsion. "I don't deserve to live," he said, the anguish in his voice so poignant from one usually so stoic.

Unhesitant, Taylor reached his arms around David's neck to pull him down into a comforting embrace. David nuzzled his face into the crook of Taylor's neck and shoulder, a soft sob escaping him. His mighty shoulders shook as Taylor rocked him slowly, crooning comfortingly in his ear. Summer's gaze met Taylor's. At her questioning look, he nodded to let the hack know he had it covered. He would take care of David. She nodded in return, and with one last look to the big man, quietly took her leave. The deadbolt sounded with her departure and they were alone.

Looking around the sparse living quarters, Taylor realized that he had never had the pleasure of being this "ALONE" with David. Hell, he had only dreamed of being alone with the big man. Sure, they had stolen a moment here or there in the showers or under the stairs, but you always knew there was a hack a hair's breadth away from sending one or both of you to "the hole". If the hacks didn't catch you, another inmate was always a threat to drive home a deadly shank when attentions were diverted.

He gently steered the big man to the folded out hide-a-bed and pulled him to sit. He didn't protest when sitting wasn't good enough. David pressed him down to stretch out on his back. David's warm body followed and Taylor allowed himself to close his eyes and luxuriate in his lover's heat. They laid there for some time, just holding one another, each lost in their own thoughts. David's soft sobs ceased. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. His nose and lips caressed the column of Taylor's throat, breathing in the scent of his lover, as if he could forever imprint it on his senses. Finally, with a sigh, he eased into sleep. Taylor smiled and kissed the dark head lying so trustingly on his chest. With a final glance towards the door and a feverent prayer, he allowed his blue eyes to drift shut and the bliss of David's arms to lull him to sleep.

"~His Pet~ Chapter Nine
© Copyright 2008 Mara ♣ McBain (irish_hussy69 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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