Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 14/19

[anniespinkhouse]

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Part Fourteen




“I think you need to suck on a soother, little one.” Pot-belly beckoned Jared, and he crawled, like a good boy. Someone behind him laughed. Jared ignored it. A few hours, that was all, and nothing he wasn't used to. The group was work-sweaty but not unclean, and most of them seemed more respectful than Pot-belly and his sidekick, Long-nose. Jared whimpered like a baby before obediently opening his mouth, for the short, thick cock, that was pushed between his lips. He made sure his teeth were covered and suckled loudly, giving a content sounding sigh and dribbling copiously over the dick, so saliva slid to Pot-belly's balls. He was paid to play a role and damned if he wouldn't do it.

“Oh you sloppy, dirty, child,” the man reacted to the dribble with a tug of hair that pulled Jared up with a whine, until his mouth barely grazed the slitted tip. “Lick up your mess, boy, or I'll smack your ass.”

Jared was concerned that the rest of the group was holding back, so he wriggled his bare backside invitingly, while he licked the length of Pot-belly's dick like a lollipop. He dived further and wrapped his tongue around the man's balls, sucking his own saliva off, mimicking the enthusiasm of a small boy with a lollipop.

Pot-belly wasn't going to last long. Jared suspected that the group's celebratory booking to the Road House was probably his idea, and the result of a long held, but not explored, fascination. No doubt he needed an excuse to visit, and wasn't brave enough on his own. His colleagues, who had been tipsy and loud when they arrived, were suddenly reserved and doubtful when left alone in a large nursery-style room, to gang-bang the lanky, now naked boy, wearing only a large toddler harness and a cock ring. Jared wondered if any of them were even gay. However, Jared was the party favor, and he needed to get the party started. He wriggled his whole body, and his ass shook again. Somebody groaned, and another whispered, “That's just wrong.”

He felt the first smack with the sharp sting of an open palm. He allowed it to rock him into Pot-belly, encasing his dick in his mouth, letting it slide to the back of his throat before rocking back till he was just suckling the tip again, flicking his tongue against the bubble of the condom. Pot-belly groaned and his cock twitched, “Oh, yes, little boy needs to be taught. He needs a good spanking.”

A second, third and fourth smack rained hard on Jared's ass, rocking him to and fro, and he knew it would be wine-red with hand prints. He heard the sound of zippers and then there were fingers groping and stroking his inner thighs, cupping his balls and rolling them. It was progress, and he was grateful for the cock ring. Between the sweet, pleasure-pain of being spanked, the anticipation of being well and truly fucked, and the stimulation of his sacs, he was already hard and wanting.

Another three harsh slaps and Pot-belly came with a high-pitched squeal, his fingers tugging painfully at Jared's hair. “Oh, fuck, so sweet, you gotta try him. He's a little cock-slut.”

Long-nose had his cock in his hand, beating-off by the side of them. He tugged at Jared's reins, so the harness dug into his chest. “Shall we teach you the words?”

Jared nodded, “Coke-slub,” he lisped.

“Jesus, skip the baby-shit, Dave, I bet his ass is tight. Can we fuck him already?”

Privately, Jared thought that whoever called 'Dave' out was right. They paid a premium for the age-play but if they weren't all comfortable with it, then it would be better to skip it.

“I found toys to play with,” someone said triumphantly. They had explored the room and found the wooden box with the teddy engraved on it. Jared sent up a little prayer of thanks. “I bet little Blue likes Daddy's friends to play with his toys?”

Jared smiled, “Blue, like to play toys.”

He felt another smack on his ass. His flesh was warm with blood that rushed to the surface and the ache was delicious.

“Blue can suck me off first,” declared Long-nose.

Pot-belly smirked and pinched one of Jared's nipples brutally, causing him to gasp, “Sounds like a plan.”

Behind him, two of the party teamed up. They swatted his ass cheeks in turn, creating a rhythm that steadily increased the pain of the punishment, and sent him rocking onto Long-nose's proportionally long dick. He adjusted, best he could, to the rapid pace and deep-throating, despite his hands being unavailable on all fours. It didn't take many thrusts before there was drawn out grunt and the man was shooting his load, into a condom, while buried deep. Jared breathed slowly through his nose. He had learned to cope with the burning intrusion of having his throat fucked, but he hated the sensation of limited air. As one cock was softening and being pulled from his mouth, arms wound around his waist and hoisted him, back to chest with one of the men behind him. His ass came into contact with the fabric of a suit and he hissed in pain. He found himself sat on the lap of a man on the huge nursing chair. Jared was seated with his legs splayed wide over firm thighs, and he let his head rest back on the man's shoulder, displaying his neck. An erect cock poked at him through the pants fabric. Lips kissed his neck, and fingers played with his nipples. The other four men crowded around them, with cries of 'selfish,' and 'unfair.”

“I think we're being rude,” the man whose lap he sat on, spoke smoothly. He stroked Jared's flat belly, and fingers explored his navel and the dents of his hips, as hands roamed. “Blue doesn't know our names.”

Jared squirmed on his lap, grinding against him, hallelujah, one of them had manners. He whimpered and moaned as his ear was sucked and nibbled, and one by one, the five men who were going to fuck him, were introduced. It didn't take long. Within moments he was manhandled again, bent over the conveniently sturdy changing table, with hands pulling his ass cheeks apart. A dildo was pressed through the well-lubed furled muscle, opening him up and displaying him for everyone to see. They twisted and turned it, pushed it deep and pulled it out, before they lost interest and put it away. Jared felt the nudge of warm flesh at his hole and he was breached in moments, cock plunging into him, brushing his prostate with a jolt of nerve tingling excitement. He bucked back against it, chasing an orgasm he couldn't have, with the cock ring on. He was fucked deep and hard, and when he was offered a dick at his lips he suckled it down, spit roasted to the cheers of the rest of the group.

They took it in turns to fuck him, interspersed it with the humiliation of dragging him around by his reins, having him suck juice from a toddler cup, and jigging him on their laps, while they fondled every part of him. They admired his eager erection and full balls and denied his pleas to be able to come. Jared was sweat-slick and tearful, he writhed and moaned, begged and cried for release as they played with him. He crawled between them, in a game of Simon Says that had him sucking or licking them as they shouted out, and when he got it wrong, he was corrected with more smacks, or a clamp on his nipple or balls that swung with a heavy weight for the next round of the game. It didn't decrease his arousal, He was in agony, and he needed to come, but Pot-belly was delighted with the prospect of Blue's blue-balls.

When the evening was over, the room stank of sex, sweat and latex and he could hear their harsh breaths. Jared was fucked out, with his hole puffed and raw, panting through his need for release. Deft fingers finally released his cock ring and he was told to jerk himself off while they watched. He spread his legs wide, and made sure he gave them a final show, fisting his cock hard and coming with a scream over his chest and belly, before dipping a thumb through the thick fluid, putting it to his mouth, and sucking on it, with a curled, childish hand. He collapsed into the comfort of the cot-sided bed and directed them to the showers. They dressed and left with mumbled thanks and a tip from three of them. Jared thanked them in return, and called Madame to confirm there were no extras. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't carry him.

Jared closed his eyes. He would rest a little before he cleaned the room and showered. He questioned why he had agreed to take a business party. They were invariably harder to please than the regular daddies, and customers who had a genuine kink. If he was honest with himself, this is how he preferred it to be. He didn't want soft words and love that was make-believe. He had experienced that with Jensen, and Jensen was the only one who had ever made it feel right. This was Jared’s penance, and, if it hurt enough, then when his financial debt was paid, maybe his conscience could also be clean.

“Blue? Are you okay?” Clif loomed over him.

Jared opened his eyes. He was still in the nursery. He tried to sit but he was dizzy.

“Fucking animals. How rough were they?”

“Not bad. I'm tired.” He tried to keep his eyes open but everything was gray and fuzzy. He felt Clif throw a blanket over him. Then he was weightless, being carried.

There was a rush of warm water over his skin, and a scrub of soap. Clif supported him as he was rinsed off, and roughly dried. Jared remembered a time when he would have been ashamed of his helpless nudity, but his dignity was long gone. He was wrapped in a towel and carried to his bed. He mumbled thanks and sank into the comfort of his mattress.

When he stirred, Madame sat on the edge of his bed and he was tucked in. “I didn't think that group would ever warm up,” she said, “but they told me they had a wonderful time. They'll be recommending us. Well done!”

Jared was an excellent whore. That much Jensen had taught him. He was a good fuck, but not good enough to stay around for.

Madame patted his arm. “I think you should take Lou tomorrow night. Since we're closed on Wednesday, you will be recovered for the prom special on Thursday.”

He tiredly agreed with her.

Some time during the night, Jared woke to find Mouse wound around him in a hug. The gesture wasn't sexual. They all had bad days, and when one of them was hurt or low, beds were invariably shared. Gem insisted that it prevented tears the next day. Jared didn't know how true it was, but he cuddled Mouse and went back to sleep.



“MAIL!”

Chad and Bunny fought to be the first to inspect the postcard that arrived with the mailman. Jared ate his breakfast, sitting stiffly in pain, but their antics made him smile.

The first picture-cards had arrived together, a month after he came to the Road House. There had been two from Morocco, one from Madrid and one from Paris. They were all addressed to the Road House in the same neat hand, but there was no message or name. Everyone had puzzled over the sender, and even regular customers had joined in speculating on the mystery. A cork board had been nailed to the wall by Matt, and as each new postcard arrived, it was pinned in a collage. They had become so regular, once a week, that Chad arranged a sweepstake to guess the origin of the next card.

Jared glanced at the board. There were now forty eight cards. He thought his favorites were the modern art print from Marrakech, the one of Mary Poppins dancing in the rain, from London, and one with pink pigeons from Mauritius.

For the last eight weeks, the cards had all originated from towns in Bangladesh and were stamped with the logo of a charity which aimed to improve conditions in the extreme poverty of third-world slums.

“Dhaka,” announced Chad, “Mouse is the winner.”

“Our mystery sender is getting lazy,” decided Bunny, as she chewed her toast.

“Or taking life more seriously,” argued Mia.

Jared stayed quiet. He frowned. More and more he had started to wonder about the life of a mercenary and where it would take a soldier.

“Hey. This is odd. It's addressed to Blue. It's local, and it isn't a tax return.”

He snapped his head up in surprise. There was nobody to send him mail.

The envelope was thick. He stared at the neatly written address, and his heart missed a beat. It was the same handwriting as the mystery postcard sender.

“Open it!” Everyone spoke at once.

Jared eased the flap open and tugged at the card inside. He pulled it out slowly and looked in shock at it. He opened it up but there was no personal message. He stood the card on the table and stared at it.

Mia was the first to react, “Is it your birthday?” They were all gaping at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Fuck you. Fuck you, Jensen Ackles. You don't get to do this. Jared picked the card up, put it back in its envelope, grabbed Bunny's lighter from the table and set fire to it. He dropped it in the kitchen sink and watched it burn. Chad pushed him out of the way to douse it with water, but there was only ash left. “What did you do that for?” Chad yelled.

Jared wasn't listening. He left his breakfast, left the kitchen and walked away.

Mouse found him, down by the canal, watching children feed the ducks. She sat beside him on the low brick wall of a bombed-out building. She put her arms around his waist in a hug, and rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair blew in the wind and her small hand smoothed over his hip. Jared loved all of Madame's other children but Mouse was the always the quiet calm in a storm. For once, he wondered what her story was, and how she shouldered the pain of her life.

“This must be murder on your ass,” she said after a while.

“I like to feel the pain.”

“It takes all sorts.”

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Same as you, I push it all down and think about paying my debt. I don't have some asshole reminding me of what I was. I never was special in the first place.”

She tilted her face up at him. Not for the first time, her wide green eyes, and the sprinkle of freckles over her snub nose, gave him a jolt. In the first few weeks in the house, it had made him avoid her. He regretted it now. She was a steady and loyal friend. When they were required to play together she was gentle and businesslike, and there was no awkwardness after the session. He didn't always feel the same about Bunny and Chad.

“You were always special, Mouse, even if nobody appreciated you.” He kissed her nose.

“Not like you,” she said it with meaning.

“What?”

“Even Chad put it together in the end.”

He drew breath, slightly panicky, “Do you think any of the customers know?”

“Like they're going to tell? The Padalecki kid was seventeen. They would have to admit to knowingly fucking a minor.”

“I deserve this. I did bad things. Good people got hurt, some died. I doubt the same could be said of you.”

She looked out over the water, squinting into the sun. “I killed my mother,” she said, without emotion. “It was worth it. She'll never hurt my baby brother again. Don't tell Madame that I told.”

“Of course not.”

“C'mon. We're going somewhere.” She tugged his arm.

Jared rolled his eyes when he saw where she was leading him, but they were both addicted to cupcakes.

“Hey. Birthday cake!” she announced.

“What are you going to do, after your ledger is paid?” Jared spoke through the froth of a caramel cappuccino.

“I don't know. I might ask Madame if I can stay on for six months, like Gem, until I have some savings. Then I'll probably get my own certificate. Go independent. I don't have any other skills. It's scary. I'll miss the house, and all of you, especially having Clif, and Matt around, to keep us safe. What about you?”

“I wanted to go to school, but I don't see how. Madame says that at the rate I'm earning I have another year with her. Maybe she would let me have a year after that, or be like Katie and rent from her.”

“You'll find a way.” Mouse covered his hand with hers, and they found more cheerful topics to discuss.



Jared was still beautiful, and so very young. Eighteen today, to Jensen's thirty, with his future still unwritten. Jensen thought Jared was taller, and a little broader. His hair was tinted like autumn leaves, and fell to his shoulders soft and shiny, blowing over his face to hide the silvery scar on his cheek. He walked with a slight limp and stiffness which Jensen recognized from his own time, as China. It made him frown. The girl, Mouse, hugged Jared, and he kissed the top of her head. She was tiny in his arms, but they looked good together. They huddled over coffee and shared the most sparkly, pink, and frou-frou cupcake in the shop. The thing Jensen noticed most was that she made Jared smile.

He followed them, at a distance, past the shattered evidence of civil uprising. The cities were returning to some sort of normal, but remote towns like this, remained debris-ridden and unsanitary.

Quintas had been a shock. Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise that the first thing he did, once he had control, was to take down his erstwhile mob competitors and squeeze their illegal practices until it hurt. He shut down drug rings, exposed cruel slave farms, and arrested rivals on contrived charges, to give the people the public executions of the bullies who had terrorized them. On the whole, the people were prepared to overlook Quintas's own crimes as an acceptable trade-off. The people's revolutionaries merged into his troops, strengthening his position, and the rest of the world suddenly wanted to do business. Apparently, the ability to run multiple crooked businesses, combined with ruthlessness, and an enormous ego, were precisely the skills required to lead the country. In two months, there would be an election, and Quintas was touted to be everybody's favorite.

The alley door shut behind Jared, and Jensen checked his watch. His sleeve caught on sunburned and freckled skin. In Dhaka, it had been easy to forget the intensity of the sun as he mixed mortar, dug, lifted, and nailed corrugated roofs. The eight week project, to build basic hygiene facilities in run-down schools, had flown by in a haze of camaraderie, with destitute children hanging off him, eager to learn, and always with a ready smile. For the first time in his life, he was proud of what he had achieved. Jensen didn't know what came next, but he knew that for all the gods he sought absolution with, he wouldn't find peace until he made amends with Jared.

He had two hours before Madame Ferris opened shop, another three before Clif took his break and left his understudy at the door. Jensen took out a crumpled note in his pocket and smoothed it. He memorized the address, strengthened his resolve, and hailed a cab.

Jensen picked his way past stinking drains, and ignored pasty-faced youths offering a good time, crystal meth and smack, until he was at a graffiti-splashed apartment with broken glass by the door. “He rang the bell and knocked, until he heard the loud growl of an angry man, “Get yer feckin' ass away from t'door. We're not buyin'.”

He tried the door handle and a lock pick. When that didn't work, he calmly took a square of plastic explosive from his pack, set the fuse, and sheltered under the concrete stairwell, until the door was blown off its hinges. There was a familiar thrill that came with the action, and he relished it. There was silence for only a few seconds before Jensen's, no Alec's, step-father emerged through the cloud of dust, clutching a sawn-off shotgun and raging for the culprit. His pupils were mere pinpricks, his drugged state making him too hazy to perceive real danger. Alec's mother stood behind him, wringing her hands, a barely recognizable, yellow-skinned ghost. Jensen had the shotgun in his own hands before his step father could react. He shoved and kicked the grizzled old bully back into the apartment, with ease, to have him grovel on the floor, under him, and he wasn't as large or frightening as Jensen remembered him.

Years of suppressed anger boiled in Jensen, and this time he wouldn’t project it onto an innocent kid. This time he was going to put the source down forever, like a rabid dog. His mother wailed and hit out, but she was flying high and unable to aim. She punched the wall, and wailed again. “Hi, mom!” Jensen greeted cheerfully, holding his stepfather's own gun to the man's head. “I'm home.”

Her hand leaped to her mouth. She stared hard at him and rocked. “No, it can't be.”

“You’re either lying or a faggot,” his stepfather spat at him.

“Oh, I'm gay. I love men. I love fucking men, consensually. Boys are beautiful, but I wouldn't rape young boys. That would make me not just a faggot but a sick, perverted, faggot. I'm not low enough to force drugs on a kid either. You though, you know all about it, because you are a sick perverted faggot.”

His mother looked between her husband and the man restraining him under his boot. “Alec in the sky with diamonds. Your eyes shine, like dead.” She swayed and continued muttering under her breath.

“I was twelve, and dad had just died.” Jensen couldn’t prevent the tear in his eye and a hitch in his breath. His step-father struggled and ranted incoherently. Jensen crunched a boot into his jaw to silence him. “This piece of shit raped me, and you were too high to care.” Jensen shook his head at his mother’s emaciated state, “You still are,” he noted softly. “You pretended not to notice, every single time. Well done. You get all the parenting awards, mom. This creep, well, he gets an award of sorts too.”

Jensen pulled the trigger. He ignored the recoil and blood spatter, as he watched step-father's disbelief turn to glazed eyes and a pool of blood. Jensen felt nothing. He cleaned his prints from the gun, placed it in his step-father's hand and looked down at his pale and trembling mother. He waited for her to say something, sorry, anything, but she was mute. Jensen sat her in a chair, and placed a cup of water by her side. “Get yourself clean. I forgive you, but that's all you get. I won't come back.” He walked away from his mother, and from his past. He wasn't Alec any longer, hadn't been since he was fourteen, when Madame Ferris spotted a street-kid who was starved and beaten. She had picked him up, called him China, and made him hers.

The new bouncer at the Road House let Jensen in without a glance. He bought a drink from the bar, where Matt eyed him with suspicion but didn't seem to place him. Jensen swept the rooms with his eyes, looking for Jared. It wasn't his day off, and he couldn't see him in the guest area. An old man sat reading a paper in the corner of the room, Lou, and it was with a sick feeling that he realized that there was somebody under the table with him. He could guess who it was.

A petite brunette in a short lacy dress, sashayed over to him with a coy smile,

“Gem?”

“Hey there, what can I do for…China? What are you doing here?”

“I came in the front door. I want an appointment.”

Gem regained her composure. “Of course, sir. If you'd like to accompany me to the desk, I can arrange that. Have you any preference for boy or girl.”

“I want Blue for an hour. Any room. Bill me for everything, and I'll cover it, just don't tell him that it's me.”

Gem looked at Jensen doubtfully, “Wait here, sir. I have to check something.”

Jensen side-eyed Lou. He calculated the chances of grabbing Jared and hot-tailing it out of there, and they weren't high, which is how he managed to still be waiting when Madame Ferris, grasped his ear and dragged him like an errant schoolboy, to her office. “What in hell are you up to, China?”

Clif positioned himself outside the office and Ferris closed the door. “Are you trying to steal one of my assets?”

“No, no. I want an appointment. I can pay.”

She leaned her elbows on her desk, “Help me out here, China. Why should I let you near my boy? You damn near killed him. When you said 'I did it', I assumed you meant, you got the boy out of harm's way, not that you broke his spirit and beat him almost to death. Then you left without goodbye and broke the rest of him. He hasn't been easy you know. It was months before I could trust him not to hurt himself or run. Sometimes he needs physical restraint, other times he lets customers hurt him, and encourages them to go too far. We have to monitor him. Do you know who he hates, more than anyone else?”

Jensen worried at his lip, the blood had drained from his face, “No.”

“You and himself. Now, tell me again why I should let you fuck my boy and fuck him up again?”

“I just want an hour to talk to him. I need to explain.”

“You could have called by, outside working hours.”

“I knew he wouldn't see me.”

“So, you have your answer. I won't force an employee to take an appointment with someone who has previously hurt them.”

“I won't ever hurt him again. I've changed. He changed me, and I have to tell him what he means to me.” He bit his lip until a trace of blood appeared. “It's been a year, and I looked for something…I had to find something...I kept looking...but then I realized, I left it here with you. Do you understand? I want to make things right with him, that's all. Then, if he wants me to get lost forever, I will.”

“For a bright man, you can be incredibly stupid, China.” She leaned back in her chair. “I'll talk to him. Come by tomorrow. If he refuses to see you, then you will leave without fuss, or I will personally chop off your balls. Do you understand me?”

Jensen breathed a sigh of relief, “Yes, ma'am.”

“Now, scram!” Madame Ferris showed Jensen out.

Part fifteen