Riding the Storm (18 page)

Eric had known someone was in his head, but hadn’t been able
to get them out. They’d somehow forced him to remain motionless as they boarded
his yacht, put him on a boat, drove to a marina, transferred him to a car,
drove to the middle of nowhere, and then flew him to wherever
here
was.
All he knew was it was on top of a remote mountain, with no visible streets
leading to the mostly underground fortress.

Putting a shield up didn’t kick out the intruder in his
brain, but when the people who’d abducted him handed him over to other people,
he felt them pounding his shields, unsuccessfully trying to get in.

“I thought this man wasn’t a human companion?”

“Not to my knowledge, why?”

“I can’t get in. Did you have problems?”

“None.” He felt someone else trying to come in, and then,
“He wasn’t shielded when we took him. He’s been taught, but hasn’t learned to
hold them fulltime, apparently.”

Eric realized he could move now that everyone was out of his
head, but knew he was no match against vampires. He pointed his thoughts
towards Abbott, called to him, but there was no response. He tried Kendra, but
again, no response.

He took a breath and told his captors, “I’m under the
protection of The Abbott, and demand to make a phone call.”

“The Abbott will be compensated for your loss. Did he teach
you to shield?”

“No one taught me. I read a book after a testing made me
curious.” He concentrated on the true portion of his statement, and hoped they
didn’t smell the lie.

One of the vampires grew long talons on her hands, stepped
to him, and within seconds Eric’s clothes were in tatters at his feet.

“First lesson will be what happens to you when you shield
your mind from us.”

Someone grabbed his arms, held them behind his back, and
another person knelt before him and grabbed his nuts. Eric sidestepped them,
but the pain in his arms and balls had him moving back in place with a scream.

Five seconds later his cock was in a steel prison, a steel
ring was snug behind his balls, nearly strangling them, and someone put a heavy
weight at the base of the ring, dragging his balls toward the floor. Eric
closed his eyes, breathed through the pain, and concentrated on the egg shaped
metal shield around him, as if he were in a one-person spaceship.

Kendra and Abbott would come for him, he just had to keep
everyone out of his head until he was rescued.

“Can’t you just bite him and force him to our will?” one of
the men asked, and another answered, “Not until The Abbott and his third have
been compensated and the paperwork complete. Natalia might choose to do so when
she arrives, but I won’t risk the wrath of The Abbott by having the blood of
someone under his protection flowing through my veins.”

This person stepped in front of Eric and sounded like an
attorney, his voice precise and authoritative as he said, “You’ll earn water,
food, sleep, and the ability to enjoy an erection with good behavior.
Misbehavior will earn you pain and humiliation. Your girlfriend started legal
proceedings for a hearing, and until the hearing we can’t alter you
permanently.” Eric opened his eyes and took in the teenager in front of him,
common sense telling him if this was a vampire, the teen looks were deceiving.
The boy-man continued. “Since by all accounts you’re likely an anal virgin, we
can’t fuck your ass until after the hearing, but nothing says you can’t provide
oral sex to both the males and females who demand it. We can’t turn you into a
vampire or any kind of shapeshifter, nor can we do anything that’ll create a
permanent scar. However, there are millions of things we can do to bring you
inline, until the hearing where you become the irrevocable property of the
Media Council, from which point we can do whatever we wish, including kill you,
should you prove to be untrainable.”

He looked to someone behind Eric and said, “Standard intake
procedures, with physical shackles and an extra guard, since we can’t force his
compliance as yet. Use as many guards as you need to get him into the
restraints.”

Eric tried to fight, but with five people working on him at
once, within minutes he was in a contraption so devious, only the truly sick
and demented could’ve come up with it.

Metal bars were bound to the outsides of his legs, wide
elastic and Velcro straps joining them above his ankles, above and below his
knees, and at the top of his thighs. The bars came to practically his
underarms, and were connected to his torso as well. The bars were articulated
at his knees and hips in a sick mechanical exoskeleton.

More bars were put on his arms, and ended in a metal fist
they folded his hand into.

The articulated joints could be locked into position, forcing
him to stand, sit, spread his legs, hold them together… he was no longer in
control of his limbs.

Rough hands pushed him over a contraption, his body bent at
the waist and his limbs secured to the equipment via the exoskeleton, his arms
over his head, his legs spread, and he jerked in his restraints as a greased
finger touched his asshole.

“They said you had to leave my ass alone!”

“No, we can’t fuck you here, or do anything to take away
your virginity. This is a thin, standard enema tube. The trainers hate it when
they literally scare the shit out of their pupils, so you’ll be cleaned before
you enter the official training areas.”

Eric had given submissives enemas before, but he’d been
kind, gentle, and talked them through it. Massaged their tummies when they
cramped, told them how good they were doing, encouraged them they could hold
more, helped them change positions when they asked nice.

But this was
brutal
. The double balloon valve assured
the water they put in would stay until they allowed it out, and they had a
pressure monitor, and only stopped putting more water in when the pressure told
them they were at risk of rupturing his bowels. He screamed and begged through
the cramps, but they didn’t slow the water, and it was impossible for him to
move to try to relieve the pressure or the cramps.

Through it all, he kept the image of the shield in his head,
determined the assholes were
not
going to get into his head again.

While the water went in, they added more weights to the ring
around his balls, used a vibrator on the solid steel cage around his cock, and
added cruel, teethed, biting nipple clamps.

He almost gave in when they added weights to the nipple
clamps, too, but he remembered how it’d felt to not have control of his limbs,
where he looked, or even what he thought, and he held the shield strong.

When they finally decided to stop the water, they bent him
forward a little more, adjusted his head, and put a Jennings gag in his mouth.
He knew what was coming next, and he closed his eyes, imagined the space-age
strong metal egg around him, and waited for someone to stick their cock in his
mouth.

He lost track of the number of men who fucked his mouth,
more than ten, probably less than twenty, before they finally released the
nozzle in his ass and shitty water flowed out of him.

He was in an arena, of sorts, though it only sat perhaps two
dozen people, all of the seats were full as he stood in place and spewed shit
and water all over the floor, his legs, and feet.

Someone hosed him down with ice cold water, and he held back
the whimper in his throat as the balloon was once again poked into his ass and
inflated, then the outer balloon, and the water started again.

The cramps were worse this time, and he was screaming long
before enough water was in for the pressure to start hurting. He didn’t know
what they’d put in the water, and no one volunteered the information, but it
burned and cramped like the fires of hell.

They gave him five enemas, the last two coming out just
water with no smell, before moving him.

He must’ve given fifty blow jobs, and his jaw ached from
being held open so long. His throat was sore from having so many cocks assault
and invade, and he had a good idea of who used him simply because he was
available, and who enjoyed hurting and humiliating him. He had no idea what
he’d do with the information, but it’d seemed important to make note.

Also, he was used to Kendra being cool to the touch, and
many of the men who raped his mouth and throat were, but many were also warm,
some downright hot, and he wondered if some weren’t shapeshifters.

If so, his hopes of being left alone once dawn hit were
dashed.

He was once again sprayed down with freezing cold water,
though nothing had smelled on this last expulsion. Someone put shaving cream in
the crack of his ass, and he was very still as he felt a straight razor shaving
his asshole.

When they finished his asshole and the back of his nuts, he
was placed on a hard table, his limbs situated so he felt like a dead roach
lying on his back, and the sadistic bastard working on him proceeded to shave
his entire groin, stomach, chest, and underarms. Never mind his chest and
stomach were hairless. His arms were also shaved, and he dreaded the itch when
everything started growing back.

He kept himself neatly trimmed, but didn’t like having to
deal with stubble, so he didn’t often shave anything terribly close… but that
wasn’t the point here. Being forced into position, no way to move or fight,
while someone methodically shaved him, was humiliating.

However, Eric held the shield around his mind. They might
rape his body, but they wouldn’t rape his mind again.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the metal armor
around him, transporting himself to another place as the man used the straight
razor on Eric’s throat and face. He wanted to protest when his eyebrows were
shaved, but refused to acknowledge what was being done to him.

Next, they sat him up and used the straight razor to get rid
of the hair on his head, too, and now Eric felt them stripping him of his identity
with every scrape of the razor. Silly, really, to feel your identity is wound
up in your hair, but he couldn’t shake the feeling.

They stood him up, leaned him over a single metal bar, and
he knew his hipbones would be bruised before long.

Someone relaxed the reticulated exoskeleton around his arms,
placed his hands on the back of his head, and locked the joints again.

His knees were locked straight, his hips bent at an angle so
he leaned over the bar and couldn’t stand, no matter how hard he fought against
the metal holding him in place.

Fury laced through his veins, but still, he held the image
of the shiny, strong, metal egg around him, keeping the mother-fuckers out of
his head.

“You will call me Master,” the man standing in front of him
demanded. “I am the primary trainer, and since you’ve proven to be a bit of a
problem child, you’ll begin your lessons with me.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

The trainer motioned to people behind him, and Eric felt the
joints at his hips being let loose, and then his legs were spread wide. The bar
was lowered a little as his legs went wider, and wider, and then they not only
tightened the hip joints down again, they ran a strap around his big toe,
around his ankle, and then connected this loop to a recessed attachment point in
the floor. When he tried to move his foot, it pulled painfully on his big toe.

Perhaps he should keep his thoughts to himself until Kendra
arrived to rescue him.

“Address me as Master,” the trainer demanded, but Eric
closed his eyes and didn’t speak.

He grunted as he felt a needle going through his nutsack, in
one side and out the other, though it didn’t penetrate the ball inside, it only
speared the scrotum. It hurt, but as long as there was no infection, it wasn’t
damaging.

He remembered what they’d told him about not being able to
permanently alter him in any way, and took comfort he could withstand whatever
they threw at him for however many more hours it would be until his rescue team
arrived.

“Bark for me.”

Again, Eric remained silent, and this time a horrible clamp
was placed on the skin at his side, perhaps six inches below his armpit, had he
been standing.

He groaned, but didn’t scream, and the man again ordered
“Address me as Master.”

This time he received a needle through his right nipple as
well as a strike from a horrid, thick, loopy johnny to the meat of his left ass
cheek.

His torturer went back and forth with questions, and orders
— who taught you to shield your mind, oink like a pig, address me as
Master, what is your official designation with Kendra — but Eric stayed
silent.

After each question, someone attached another cruel clamp
somewhere on his body, or stuck a needle through his skin and back out the
other side, as if sewing… and then struck him with either the loopy johnny or a
cruel leather strap.

So, when they finally asked a question he didn’t mind
answering, he only paused a few seconds before answering, “I live on my yacht,
where your people abducted me.”

This time, the clamp on his left nipple, the most painful
item they’d put on him, was removed, and someone ran a gentle hand over his
ass, soothing where they’d been striking.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I create video games.”

A needle came out of the top of his arm… giving him immense
relief to the nerve it’d been skewering, and someone rubbed across the skin
where it’d come out, further easing the pain.

Four more questions he didn’t mind answering, followed by
something painful being removed, and then a soothing gesture, and then,
“Address me as Master.”

It would’ve been so easy to do it, to keep from feeling pain
again, but he took a breath and held it, sealing his lips shut to be sure he
didn’t accidently follow the order.