Chains and The Church

Chapter 8

Some time later, after I'd calmed down, the guests began to arrive. The man led them in to see me after they arrived. Some gasped and smiled, sick smiles just the same, as if they were delighted to see me. Some laughed at my appearance, as if I was a funny piece of artwork. Others had no reaction, just patting the man on the back and saying "good job, Seymour."

Finally, I learned his name. Seymour. I did my best to commit it to memory, but could barely comprehend it at all. I whimpered softly and reached a hand out, using all my strength. Someone took it - a man. He hummed and traced his fingers from my wrist to my torso, which was still wrapped in bandages. He rubbed my chest and shoulders, still holding my hand with his other one. This new man ran his fingers up my neck and to my face, his chuckle echoing in my ears as he leaned down, slowly starting to kiss my neck. I wanted to scream. Sure, the touch was nice but I was used to Seymour. Being handled by another man was terrifying. I couldn't do anything but groan as his hand traced down lower and lower.

A second man come over, starting to rub up my legs as the first man continued. Then another man. I was violated. I was trying to move away. I couldn't move, even with my greatest effort and strength. I wanted to curl into myself, which was nearly impossible with everyone holding my limbs, let alone the drugs. I continued to whine in useless protest. Finally, I heard another voice echo in my ears, this time female. "Alright boys, you've had enough fun now. Let the poor thing go. It's my turn."

They seemed to obey her and let me go. The touching ceased and I did what I could to curl into myself, though it wasn't much. My body was only getting heavier and heavier, and it ached. I wondered how long the serum would last. Someone picked me up, then sat me in the woman's lap. She stroked my hair and held my head in her lap. "Look at the sweet boy. He doesn't deserve all of that," she cooed into my ear. I barely cared that she was another stranger - she seemed much less threatening than the men, and wasn't touching me like they were. She stroked my hair and gently kissed my forehead once. She rubbed my chest comfortingly and held me close in her lap. I whimpered, but she shushed me. "I know, those men are so forward. Not even a little foreplay." She hummed and moved her hand down, rubbing my thigh as she continued to stroke my hair. I realized that she had the same intention as the men, but was much gentler. I didn't want the intentions behind her touch, but couldn't help but lean in to them. At least she was tender and slow. I could deal with that.

She continued to touch me wherever she wanted before I heard Seymour's voice. I blinked and looked around for him. "Look at him. Such a good pet, isn't he? Being sweet to you?"

"Oh yes, he is," the woman replied. "He is very beautiful. Where did you find him?"

"He was military. I'd been following them for a while. It wasn't hard, seeing as I was the one they were looking for." Seymour laughed. "Caught them in a bar one night and got him away. Spiked his drink. He was just too beautiful to pass up. He's still learning what it means to be a pet, but he's a good boy now, aren't you, pet?"

I whimpered and used my strength to reach an arm out to him. I wanted to scream, to beg for help. I didn't want to be touched like this any longer. I wanted to die.

The man chuckled, leaning down and kissing me full on the lips as he held my hand, stroking my arm. "Oh pet, you're so sweet," he hummed. "Good boy."

Like that, he was gone. The woman got up from beneath me and left me alone on the couch. The chattering of voices echoed in my ears as I tried to remember what Seymour had said. He was the one we had been looking for? I could barely function in my state, and couldn't put anything together. I could barely remember the life before this one. Before the basement.

Someone took my hand and I swallowed hard, letting out a soft groan. I didn't want any more. I didn't want anything else. The room still spun, especially when I was picked up. The chattering had stopped and the room was silent except for one voice, saying something too fast for me to understand. I whimpered as I was carried somewhere, cold air hitting my body. The world spun, but it was brighter, and I was outside. I should see snow on the ground, and several cars around. Too many to count. I didn't know what was happening as I was put into a car and buckled. I still couldn't move from whatever drugs I was given. I couldn't form a sentence. I could barely squeak out a word - "h-help..."