One By One

Chapter 3: Adams

"It's about time, asshole!" John yelled as Benedict appeared in front of his cell. He stood up, folded his arms across his chest. "I have been waiting here forever. What, like, twelve hours?"

"I was busy with other things." Benedict said with a smirk, and that smirk spoke of untold evils. It made a chill run up John's spine, but he stood his ground.

The cell opened. Benedict, along with his british soldiers, entered.
The soldiers had ropes and chains, and Benedict had a satchel over one shoulder. What was about to happen wouldn't be good. John backed up and balled his hands into fists. He crouched, ready to fight and throw punches.

"Get his clothes off." Benedict ordered of the men. They dropped the ropes and chains, and went in for him. John threw a punch, but his wrist was caught in a big hand. He screamed in fury and fear and bit at the hand that held him. More hands came, touched on him, and tore at his clothes. He screamed, fought, twisted, even bit at them. He struggled and thrashed.

Though, it did nothing. Despite everything, he found himself very much naked. His chest was heaving, tears threatening to spill. He looked at the British soldiers and couldn't help smiling in satisfaction. They were bleeding from his nails and teeth. Maybe he'd just kill one of them.
He knew that infection from even a human bite could take one's life.

They went for the ropes and chains.
His hands were cuffed together, his arms pulled up over his head, the chains being attached to hooks in the ceiling. The ropes were tied around his thighs and then tied to hooks in the floor, leaving his legs spread wide.
The position he was in resemble an X. His ponytail dangled over his shoulders, slightly hiding his small left man breast from view. But John was sure that Benedict would want to see them.
He was sick like that.

John spit on the floor at Benedict's feet, panting. Benedict just smiled at him.
The soldiers retreated from the cell, leaving him and Benedict alone.

"Get on with it, fuckface." John hissed as Ben just stared at him with a blank face.

"Just admiring the view. You're not different from your friend in looks, but obviously your weight characteristics are quite different." He stepped close to him and moved his hair back over his shoulders. He looked him up and down, gaining an expression that could be considered a leer.

"What do you want from me?"

Benedict let out a tired sigh, though it was all for dramatics. "Everyone keeps asking me that when I think it should be fairly obvious. Here I have you, chained and tied up naked, just for me."

John's lower lip trembled, terrified tears threatening to spill. He wanted to bite him, spit on him, but he was afraid of what would happen if he did that.
He was right: he was completely vulnerable to him.

He knew what was going to happen.

Benedict trailed a hand over his body, almost touching his more intimate places. John shuddered in revulsion.
It was okay when his partners touched him like this, but NEVER had he wanted Benedict's touch. He very suddenly wanted him dead, dead, burned and destroyed. He deserved it for what he was about to do to him.

Then, John realized something. Benedict had said "everyone". He must have been visiting the other Fathers. But had he raped them like he was going to rape him?

"What did you do to them?" John demanded.

"The same thing I'm going to do to you. I wonder if James and Thomas have recovered yet."