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Description
Part VII

Bloody, broken and beaten, Harley balled himself up in a ball after they all left. They each too their fill of him to the point he was bleeding. Bruises, bite marks, and scratches were all over him. He was sobbing into his knees. Why was this happening to him?

They all knew what happened. They all heard his screams. But some of the slaves were sympathetic to him and others weren't. The three boys he knew and became somewhat of friends with walked in with caution. They all had the same shocked and horrified expression on their faces. Harley's beating was particularly bloody and violent.

"Harley…?" one of them said. Brian, the eldest one knelt down to his injured friend. Harley flinched and shook more in his ball. He was terrified. Were these boys going to do the same thing to him? He didn't know. He couldn't trust anyone, not anymore.

"Please, don't hurt me" he said. The grogginess in his voice made it clear, he had been crying and suffered from a sore throat as well along with the other injuries to his body. His poor hole, swollen to the point it pained him to think about it, which was hard. It was still leaking the releases of the seven men who left hours ago. The semen stung in the tears the men made inside of him. Harley cried.

"We're not going to hurt you, Harley" David said kneeling down now as well. His bell sounded slightly, bringing a glimmer of humor into the uncomfortable silence.

"We just want to help you" Simon said. He stood behind the other two boys with his hands behind him. He was afraid. He was afraid to see Harley in the state he was in. A few months ago, Simon was in the exact same position Harley was in now. He didn't want a visual to the pain Harley was in. It would bring the memories back. The memories Simon learned to suppress so he could survive. He was young and innocent, but he was still a tortured victim.

Harley let go. He threw himself into Brian's arms and cried. He sobbed to no end and even after he had no tears left, he still cried. He let out all the pain, all of the suffering. Everything about him, his past and his present, flowed out like an open book for all to read. Brian held him close. He was his security blanket.

It wasn't his fault, even though he thought it was. Harley blamed himself for his parents dying, for the family being split apart. He was only seven, but he remembered it like it was yesterday.

He was in the hospital with a broken leg. He and his brother were rough housing and he fell out of the tree house. His parents were worried sick. He was after all, their 'baby'. The doctor's orders were for Harley to spend the night for more tests. His parents agreed.

Harley couldn't sleep without his blanket. He begged his mother for it, and after begging and pleading she finally agreed to go and get it along with a pair of fresh clothes for him the next day. He was bubbly after getting word he was going to get his blanket. His parents left to retrieve his things from their house, leaving him in the care of the doctors and in the watch of his older brother, George. They never came back.

There was a horrible freeway accident. An 18-wheeler flipped over and crushed their car. They were dead on arrival. George always blamed Harley. It was his fault his parents were killed, all because he wanted his stupid blanket. George never forgave Harley for that and that anger separated them since that day. Harley brought his mind back to the three in front of him. They had been speaking to him.

"Why does it have to hurt so much?" Harley sobbed into the older boy's shoulder. Every move he made reawakened his sores all over himself. Still, Brian held him steady and snug. He wanted him to feel safe.

"They want it to hurt" he said coldly, "They like it when it hurts"

"I just want the pain to go away" he cried. Harley kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see anymore. He didn't want to feel anymore. He didn't want to be anymore.

There was more silence. This was the first time he has ever opened up to people. Talking about his feelings was something Harley had never been able to do. It was almost funny how situations could change people. Almost.

They sat with him, sitting for hours. Harley stayed in Brian's arms. He would fall asleep and awake again. His dreams turned to horrible nightmares, reliving the things they did to him, what they made him do. Why did they make it have to hurt?

"They made me do things…Things I didn't even know how to do. It hurt. And when I didn't know how to do them, they hit me even harder.…" Harley cried, "They put things inside of me. Themselves and other things… fists, pipes, even the chains. Anything they could find" David rubbed Harley's beaten back soothingly.

"They burned me too" Harley said sitting up slightly to expose his chest. Along with scratches and bruises, there were burns, burns from cigarettes and the fire itself. The burns were all over, his chest, his legs, his arms, and his sensitive areas. Remembering all of the burn marks brought him to tears again.

"What's that over there?" David asked pointing to some metal plate in the corner. Harley gasped and remembered more.

Harley scooted around so his back was to the boys. He led their eyes downward. They all gasped in horror. Scald and burned into one of his round butt cheeks was a shape, a brand mark. They branded him with a star on his rear, like cowboys did to cattle. Harley was cattle.

None of the other boys knew what to say or what to do. None of them ever got branded. What was there to do? They were silent, but promised to be there for Harley however he needed them, and they were. They were there for him almost the entire night. Finally Harley was able to stand, sort of, and function. He thanked then again and told them he was going to go to sleep. He shouldn't have had then leave.

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Someone new walked into Harley's iron room. He locked and bolted the door behind him and crept to the bed. He had no fear. He'd been doing this to the others for some time. He had power and drive like none of the others. He was different.

Harley awoke to the uncomfortable feeling of someone sitting on top of him. He was lying facedown, with his face in his pillows. But it was not one of the Masters here to violate him again. It was someone new, another sex slave.

"If you think what they did was brutal….just wait till I'm done with you" Victor said kneeling into Harley's ear. He cowered lower into the bed.

"Daniel may be your master…but I'll take control of you in ways he can't" Victor promised tightening the ropes around Harley's wrists and ankles. He was spread out widely on the bed. His eyes already began to water.

"I'm not into guys, but for you…I'll make the exception" he said. He shoved in. Harley screamed into the pillow.

And once again...Harley was taken...

Description
Part VII

Bloody, broken and beaten, Harley balled himself up in a ball after they all left. They each too their fill of him to the point he was bleeding. Bruises, bite marks, and scratches were all over him. He was sobbing into his knees. Why was this happening to him?

They all knew what happened. They all heard his screams. But some of the slaves were sympathetic to him and others weren't. The three boys he knew and became somewhat of friends with walked in with caution. They all had the same shocked and horrified expression on their faces. Harley's beating was particularly bloody and violent.

"Harley…?" one of them said. Brian, the eldest one knelt down to his injured friend. Harley flinched and shook more in his ball. He was terrified. Were these boys going to do the same thing to him? He didn't know. He couldn't trust anyone, not anymore.

"Please, don't hurt me" he said. The grogginess in his voice made it clear, he had been crying and suffered from a sore throat as well along with the other injuries to his body. His poor hole, swollen to the point it pained him to think about it, which was hard. It was still leaking the releases of the seven men who left hours ago. The semen stung in the tears the men made inside of him. Harley cried.

"We're not going to hurt you, Harley" David said kneeling down now as well. His bell sounded slightly, bringing a glimmer of humor into the uncomfortable silence.

"We just want to help you" Simon said. He stood behind the other two boys with his hands behind him. He was afraid. He was afraid to see Harley in the state he was in. A few months ago, Simon was in the exact same position Harley was in now. He didn't want a visual to the pain Harley was in. It would bring the memories back. The memories Simon learned to suppress so he could survive. He was young and innocent, but he was still a tortured victim.

Harley let go. He threw himself into Brian's arms and cried. He sobbed to no end and even after he had no tears left, he still cried. He let out all the pain, all of the suffering. Everything about him, his past and his present, flowed out like an open book for all to read. Brian held him close. He was his security blanket.

It wasn't his fault, even though he thought it was. Harley blamed himself for his parents dying, for the family being split apart. He was only seven, but he remembered it like it was yesterday.

He was in the hospital with a broken leg. He and his brother were rough housing and he fell out of the tree house. His parents were worried sick. He was after all, their 'baby'. The doctor's orders were for Harley to spend the night for more tests. His parents agreed.

Harley couldn't sleep without his blanket. He begged his mother for it, and after begging and pleading she finally agreed to go and get it along with a pair of fresh clothes for him the next day. He was bubbly after getting word he was going to get his blanket. His parents left to retrieve his things from their house, leaving him in the care of the doctors and in the watch of his older brother, George. They never came back.

There was a horrible freeway accident. An 18-wheeler flipped over and crushed their car. They were dead on arrival. George always blamed Harley. It was his fault his parents were killed, all because he wanted his stupid blanket. George never forgave Harley for that and that anger separated them since that day. Harley brought his mind back to the three in front of him. They had been speaking to him.

"Why does it have to hurt so much?" Harley sobbed into the older boy's shoulder. Every move he made reawakened his sores all over himself. Still, Brian held him steady and snug. He wanted him to feel safe.

"They want it to hurt" he said coldly, "They like it when it hurts"

"I just want the pain to go away" he cried. Harley kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see anymore. He didn't want to feel anymore. He didn't want to be anymore.

There was more silence. This was the first time he has ever opened up to people. Talking about his feelings was something Harley had never been able to do. It was almost funny how situations could change people. Almost.

They sat with him, sitting for hours. Harley stayed in Brian's arms. He would fall asleep and awake again. His dreams turned to horrible nightmares, reliving the things they did to him, what they made him do. Why did they make it have to hurt?

"They made me do things…Things I didn't even know how to do. It hurt. And when I didn't know how to do them, they hit me even harder.…" Harley cried, "They put things inside of me. Themselves and other things… fists, pipes, even the chains. Anything they could find" David rubbed Harley's beaten back soothingly.

"They burned me too" Harley said sitting up slightly to expose his chest. Along with scratches and bruises, there were burns, burns from cigarettes and the fire itself. The burns were all over, his chest, his legs, his arms, and his sensitive areas. Remembering all of the burn marks brought him to tears again.

"What's that over there?" David asked pointing to some metal plate in the corner. Harley gasped and remembered more.

Harley scooted around so his back was to the boys. He led their eyes downward. They all gasped in horror. Scald and burned into one of his round butt cheeks was a shape, a brand mark. They branded him with a star on his rear, like cowboys did to cattle. Harley was cattle.

None of the other boys knew what to say or what to do. None of them ever got branded. What was there to do? They were silent, but promised to be there for Harley however he needed them, and they were. They were there for him almost the entire night. Finally Harley was able to stand, sort of, and function. He thanked then again and told them he was going to go to sleep. He shouldn't have had then leave.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone new walked into Harley's iron room. He locked and bolted the door behind him and crept to the bed. He had no fear. He'd been doing this to the others for some time. He had power and drive like none of the others. He was different.

Harley awoke to the uncomfortable feeling of someone sitting on top of him. He was lying facedown, with his face in his pillows. But it was not one of the Masters here to violate him again. It was someone new, another sex slave.

"If you think what they did was brutal….just wait till I'm done with you" Victor said kneeling into Harley's ear. He cowered lower into the bed.

"Daniel may be your master…but I'll take control of you in ways he can't" Victor promised tightening the ropes around Harley's wrists and ankles. He was spread out widely on the bed. His eyes already began to water.

"I'm not into guys, but for you…I'll make the exception" he said. He shoved in. Harley screamed into the pillow.

And once again...Harley was taken...