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Playgirl	By : Obsolescence Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Marilyn Manson Views: 2350 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Marilyn Manson. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Characters: Manson, Tim, & Sascha
Warnings/Spoilers: This story contains extreme abuse, rape, torture, sex, cursing, and Swedish.
Author Notes: Every review you give will go to the 'change the way Manson fan fiction is written' fund. Thank you for your support and donation.
Also, there is more than a few chapters to this, if you want the others just say so in your review. As my profile says I write for me and I have a hard time knowing if a reader wants more.
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Waking up was becoming a task. I thought as my eyes focused in on the room. Shivered and pulled the blankets up closer to my chin. I slowly stand up and stretched out my limbs, my burns stinging then the feeling faded away.
I slowly stood up and put on clothes, complete with socks and a hat. I wrapped my arms around my torso and slowly wondered downstairs to see if Brian was still here. Opening every door to see if he retreated somewhere.
Then, in the oppressing silence, my stomach growled, demanding to be filled. I chuckled at it, food not crossing my mind much in the past two days but apparently my body was in dire need. I walked slowly to the kitchen, wishing he’d keep the house at a higher temperature.
I walked into the kitchen and found him reading by the window looking out on the forest he called a backyard.
“You’re awake.” He sounded bored and irritated.
“I am.”
“Come here.” I shook my head.
“I’m going to eat something.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am.”
“Tim.” My name was growled in a warning.
“Brian.” I rolled my eyes. I knew I’d regret what I just did soon enough, when he stood, setting his book on the table, he did it softly as not to damage the book, and walked over to me in quiet determination and anger.
I faced him and looked up at him. Our eyes met, but only briefly, his hand came up to my throat. He quickly forced me against the cabinets. His thigh coming between my legs. His pelvis pushed up against my hips holding me still.
Pushing me harder against the metal hardware, I flinched, but tried not to show it looking him straight into his hazel brown eyes.
“Now, Tim you are going to listen to what I asked of you. Remember that talk about permanency?” My muscles tensed, but I tried not to look like it affected me. I refused to be Twiggy 2.0.
I wouldn’t be one of those whores, coke skinny, and his puppet. I was already sick of this, and I was going to stand up for food, whether or not it got me hurt. He needed to learn that he wasn’t god, and wouldn’t be his martyr(more unintentional puns).
He released my throat. “Got it?”
“No.” He looked like someone had told him Santa Clause didn’t exist.
“What did you say?” His hand raised up to strangle me again. I smacked it away.
“No, I am going to eat.”
“Tim.”
“What?”
“Follow orders and–”
“Be a good little drone? No.”
“Yes.” His hand raised up and struck me across. The force knocking me almost to the counter if I wouldn’t have caught myself. I swallowed, then with every remaining bit of my backbone I forced myself to look back at him.
“No.”
“Skold.” He growled. I knew I was in trouble but I had to fight back. I had to, I didn’t want this house, him, and all this pain to be my tomb.
“Listen, how about we met in the middle, I’ll eat less.” Not that I ate all that much prior. But maybe, just maybe he could compromise.
“No.” He said shoving his hip against my crotch, making me yelp slightly that made him smirk. No, I wouldn’t, don’t give in. I inhaled sharply.
“I am going to eat whether you like it or not.” He snarled and pulled away quickly my socks slipping on the tiles. My ass landing painfully on the floor. His foot pressing up against my stomach, slowly sliding down adding pressure.
“Tim, think wisely, remember you are at my mercy and you don’t have much ‘wiggle’ room.” His foot pressed down. Tears pressing up against my eyelids. I let out a almost silent growl and I grabbed his leg, digging almost-there nails into the flesh.
He hissed and jerked his foot up catching me under the jaw. My tongue catching between my teeth. He saw the look of pain and chuckled lightly.
“You cannot win this. . .Fitta.” I flinched at the word. His foot pressed against my shoulder and pushed me back into the cabinets. “Don’t you understand anything I am try to teach you.” He used my shoulder to propel his foot off me, my shoulder digging into the handle’s screw.
“Brian.” He kicked me in the stomach. I gasped, and as I regained my breath I said. “I’ll tell Dita. I’ll tell her to check the cameras, I’ll tell her.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” He growled, and crouched down to my face. “I would.” I said firmly.
He snarled, and just hovered before me before he decided I wasn’t giving into his look.
“600 calories a day.”
“700.”
“You are in no position to haggle with me.”
“700.”
“620.”
“650.”
“630. Final offer, or I’ll put you in a “tragic” car crash.”
“Fine 630 it is.”
He reached down and grabbed my hair. I tried to push him off, but his foot got quite friendly with my face. He tugged me along the floor, and then slowly approached the stairs. I flailed and tried to slow him down.
“Brian!” He twisted my hair in his fist. Out of my mouth came something I am going to copyright as a grelp (growl yelp). He opened the door, and pulled me down the stairs. The burns on my back stinging as the carpet rubbed against them.
The trip down 23 stairs seems much longer when your hair is slowly being pulled out of your scalp. I knew where I was headed. The memory fresh in my mind. The horrible dark box, I was whining pathetically at him hoping he’d reconsider.
The sound of the keys pulling getting pulled out of his pocket and being pushed into the lock, made me freeze, all the little hairs on my body standing on end. The door was pushed open banging in the silence of my mind like a firecracker, making me jump and try to run, his hand gripping hard, yanking out, hundreds of hairs. He pulled me inside and threw me in the middle of the room.
I got my look around. It was some dungeon, but much scarier, nothing looked like it brought pleasure: Cages, boxes, bags, chains, an examining table, a selection of knives, wires, various lengths of barbed wire, an examining table, and various other painful toys. Like the sexual version of Hostel.
He closed the door and pulled the keys out to lock it again. My eyes were trying to take in the sterile room.
“I thought you’d love it. “Suffer and be used,” “Tie me up and set me free.” You know all those wonderful lyrics you wrote.”
“Yes, but that was consensual!” My eyes widened, and I swallowed.
“This isn’t.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. I shivered. “Now, take off your clothes.”
I, shakingly, concurred with him. Standing slowly and pulling off my clothes. There was no escape from the room, and I’d rather have him hurt me at this level of anger than at any other level. He nodded, without a smirk, and my final pieces of clothes met the floor.
Slowly he walked up, pinching my stomach grabbing the excess skin. “We need to get this off you. It doesn’t fit the image, fat never works.” I stared at him, my “eyebrows” slightly furrowed. He rigidly pointed at the only table in the room. I shook then breathed out a no.
He raised an "eyebrow” at me. I started to cry silent tears as I turned and walked to the table my body shaking as I sat up on it. He strode forward and pushed his hand against my chest pushing me back against it. The rails coming up. I tried to sit up, but he pressed harder on my chest.
“Stay or it’s back in the box for you.” I shook harder. Tears catching in the shell of my ears diluting his voice, making it deeper.
He moved his hand off my chest and secured three straps across my chest my hips and my shoulders, and then cuffing my hands in the typical hospital cuffs, that came with the bed.
“Ple–”
“Ever since I found out, I wanted to see you like this.” Again my eyes grew and I inhaled deeply. His steps precise as he went to my feet and pulled up the stirrups. The straps held me still, as I tried to move away from them.
He yanked my leg up to one and secured it. Then, he moved to the other. I, quickly, began to move it. A loud smack echoed through the room followed by my cry. A red welt appearing on my inner thigh. He put my other leg into the stirrup.
I wriggled around on the table, breaths coming quickly. I realized I was panicking and I did my best to calm myself before I started to really hyperventilate. I head castors rolling along the floor and I strained my neck up.
“Tim meet the hammer.” I looked at the machine. “This is your company for the night.” I got a closer look a cog and an axil, and . . . Someone, save me, I was going to be fucked a machine. He wheeled it up and quickly made sure everything was in order.
Then. . . Then.
“What’s your name again, kid?”
“T-Thim. . .sir.”
“It’s a good name for a boy like you. So what were you doing on the street?”He paused. “Oh just jump on.”
I smiled at the man, he was in his mid-forties, and defiantly Swedish. His blonde hair flecked with some grey. Lines and bags under his eyes from saving kids lives. It took me a few tries but I got on the table.
“So Thim, You didn’t answer my question why were you on the street, it’s the middle of winter.”
“I don’t know, My parents just dropped me off. Can you help me find them?”
“Sure kid.” He smiled slightly. “Just lay back and relax.” I nodded, and wiggled on the table. His hands pulled my legs into the stirrups. I shivered a bit. He looked at me.
“Well this isn’t going to do. Thim I need to check and make sure you’re not hurt so I am going to take off your clothes okay.” As I had never been to the doctor I just nodded, flashing him a dorky grin.
His hands undid my belt and pulled the pants off of me. Returning to put my feet in the stirrups. He sat down a chair with wheels. Sliding across the concrete floor to put on some gloves, and grabbing a bottle.
My eyes widened and I cried out. Shakingly my body slumped against the table, my abdomen contorting, and making me feel like I was going to vomit. My thighs tried to come together.
“Hush Tim, It’ll be all right, You know you love it, a sex fiend like you. Now, I’m wondering why I never did this to John.”
“Thim this is going to hurt a bit, but it’ll pass okay?”
“Yes, Okay.”
Down in my nether regions I felt a sharp sting. My back arched off the table and I tired to pull away.
“Thim I said it would pass. Do you want to have the plague?”
“N-no, but it hurts.”
“It’ll get better.” His fingers probed around inside of me, my body not adjusting to it fast enough. As I writhed and flinched on the table. His fingers kept pressing in deeper, when finally he pulled them out.
“You seem clean kid, but I need to check this out closer.”
I, again, spasmed, my heart beating rapidly. The machine pressing in faster, I could barely breathe. A rough hand pressed against my forehead.
“It’ll feel good I promise.”
“Okay kid this is a tool, and it’ll hurt a bit more than my fingers, but I need to check or you could die.”
“I don’t want to die!”
“Well then don’t try to pull away.” I nodded again, and he slid toward me. Pushing the metal against, me, the shoving it in. I whimpered and he moaned.
“See kid was that too bad?”
“N-no.”
“Okay.” His hand tightened and he pulled at the handles. I screamed out, and again his fingers probed inside me, but now he had a flashlight.
“You sure are bleeding kid.”
“S-sorry. I don’t mean to.”
“It’s okay.” He pushed around inside me. “You look clean.”
“This mean I-I’m not gunna die?”
“No you look pretty healthy but there is one more test I’d like to do.”
“O-Okay.”
I was screaming by now. I don’t know how long I had been but I was. I felt like I was dying. My breathing in hitches. I couldn’t see much of anything too many dots clouding my vision. My legs and arms twitching, and they were cold. My heartbeat erratic, singing in my burning ears.
“Kid your pretty tight.” The back of my head was digging into the table. “Such a pretty thing like you, I thought you’d already be used.”
“P-please, stop. It hurts.”
“Kid don’t make me gag you.” His hips pressing into mine. My small body not able to handle the size.
He moaned, the most disgusting moan you would ever hear as tears flooded my eyes and fell sloppily onto his table. The pediatrician bucking into me harder. Making the tears flow faster.
“Stop!”
I heard a laugh.
“We’re almost done Thim.”
“No, please I’ll be good! I’ll do anything just stop”
“Kid, shut up, I’m almost there.”
Bruising force with a moan from him and a cry from me. He made one final thrust and came. Stinging my insides.
“I think I’ll keep you around Thim.”
I was gasping as the machine stopped, air finally returning. I craned my neck to look at Manson. He gave me a smirk, and touched my sweaty forehead.
“You were a good boy Tim other than you were talking in Swedish. But you were good, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”
“Th-th-a-nk yo-u.” I whispered.
“But one final thing.”
“Wh-a?”
“Inexorable.” And I blacked out.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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