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Regen (Rain)	By : maybebaby Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2558 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Regen (Rain) 6/28
Author: akasha6
Beta and co-writer: MrNaked
Translation: lisa_thecat
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Till/Richard, Richard/Christoph, Christoph/Paul, Till/Gert
Disclaimer: None of this is true, it's all work of fiction.
Warning: This story contains imagery and ideas that some might find gory, immoral and possibly offending. (violence, BDSM, non-consensual sex, incest)

The author would like to thank MrNaked for the wonderful job he did as a beta and co-writer and to lisa_thecat for the translation.

Chapter 6

Darkness. Physical pain mixed with the feeling of being completely helpless. Hot tears streamed down Richard’s cheeks. He wasn’t even able to sob or even feel sad. There were only those big, heavy and hot tears running down, in absolute silence along the shapes of his face.

He couldn’t remember when it was the last time he cried. Maybe that day when, for the first time, he allowed himself lead to a cheap motel room. Back then, the shame and the repulsion he felt toward himself, and what he had done, brought tears of anger and frustration in his eyes; but to be totally at a man’s mercy – that was certainly the worst feeling possible.

Why did it have to be a man like Till? Till - a man in whose blue eyes he would rather lose himself into. How much hate, hurt and sorrow must one bare in his heart, to become like him.

Richard tried to get up, but the pain made him fall back on the bed. He gave in to his thoughts spiraling through his head.

How did the last hours pass?

The dark cellar; three men; the light vibration of the air against his bare skin, shortly before the whip lashed his torso, and then, this sound over and over again.

The touches, that forceful hand grabbing him by the hair and jerking his head, making him feel like his neck was about to snap.

“Look me in the eyes, you little whore! Confess! Say it, you always wanted a big fat cock up your little ass! Beg for it, faggot!”

The rough penetration. Their groans. His growls of pain with each thrust.

Eventually he complied, knowing that it wouldn’t have stopped otherwise - the forceful yanking of his head, threatening his neck to snap. He managed to emit, spitting the words as if he wanted to rid his mouth of such shameful ideas: “I love cock, I want a big, fat cock to fuck me!”

Next, he didn’t know for how long had he been lying on the cold metallic table, with his hands tied above his head, sound of a chain rattling chains following his every attempt to move.

Each new scrap of memory was like a new lash over his already abused brain. He gathered his strengths and sat up on the bed. He felt the sweat sliding over his skin, into the fresh wounds, burning him like liquid fire.

Yet, he struggled with his own body to stand up. But someone slammed open the door to the room, again. The bright light from the corridor blinded Richard for a split of a second, so he was able only to feel grabbed by the arm and dragged off the bed.

“You didn’t have enough, my pretty!”

When his eyes got adjusted to the light, he saw this very well built man, all dressed in black leather. Richard felt too weakened and powerless, so he complied and followed the guy without putting any fight. Actually, Richard felt so weakened, that he was about to collapse on the hallway. But he managed somehow to remain conscious and standing on his feet.

Again, the heavy oak door to the room in the cellar was wide opened.

“Here he is, Boss.”

With these words Richard was dropped at the feet of a big gray-haired man, and the big heavy leather boot of his companion pressed on his shoulder. The gray-haired man leaned over Richard’s face, those blue eyes scanning his drained features. For Richard those eyes were so familiar - blue like the deepest sea. So he looked like hypnotized in their deep waters.

“Bring Till down here, and tell Gert that his meal is hot and ready.” The old, gray haired man said on a low and content tone, while fixing Richard with his glare.

Richard breathed heavily, he felt sick, he needed some water - he needed his hit.

Two strong arms grabbed him from behind, and he found himself shoved against the cold and damp cellar wall. As his arms were shackled again in two iron rings above his head, he could do nothing but moan loudly.

*

Till threw the bottle in the tall bushes that surrounded the terrace and went back in the lounge. As he was stepping back in the room, he spotted one of his father’s men walking toward him.

“Your father wants to see you. He is down in the cellar. You have to go to him,” the guy announced to Till.

“In the cellar? What does he want in the cellar?”

Till tried to look in his eyes, but the man remained unreadable, as always. He already had bad experiences with these men that clung to his dad like flies, or like vultures waiting for the leftovers of his fat banquet. Reluctantly, Till walked to the stairs.

“Where’s Richard?” Till turned, but he saw two other men climbing down after him.

He realized that they meant business. Something inside him started trembling slightly. He had to go down there, he knew what would have happened if he wouldn’t go. He lowered his eyelids as if trying to hide that memory from the rest of the world, as if the memory would have stand in front of him so hideous that he didn’t want to see it. It was about those 100 days he was forced to spend as the prisoner of one of the many cold and wet cells in the basement of that house. 100 days away from the world, and from the day- light. This is how his father broke this solid and strong man; Till did everything his father required of him, no matter how insane or wrong that thing was. Everything. Because nothing mattered anymore for him; it was like the world turned in this place of gray shadows, and nothing was worth anything.

Till stopped in front of the big oak door that led to the largest room in the cellar, the so-called “workshop”.

“What’s this?” Till grumbled when he saw who was inside that room. He turned to leave but the two men behind him overpowered him, took him by the arms and pushed him through the open door.

“Here you are. It’s so nice when you actually obey me once in a while.” Till’s father said walking closer to him. “Let him go.”

The men set his arms free and stepped back in the shadows of the cellar.

“Listen, Till, I’m giving you the following choice. Either you devote yourself to pleasing the man that has paid a whole lot of money for you, or I’ll personally whip the life out of your little new friend and then I set my men on him.” His father announced calmly to him on a low voice. “So, which will it be, will you save the ass of your beloved new toy?”

His father grabbed Till by the back of his neck and directed him gently to the wall where was Richard cuffed by the iron rings on the ceiling.

“Look at him, isn’t he sweet?”

The father’s fingers squeezed Till’s back of the neck pushing him closer to the body hung like a piece of meat in the abattoir.

Till ran his fingers through his wet with rain hair, as if he wanted to see Richard better. He felt this squeeze in his heart, and an “Oh my God, Richard,” slipped his lips.

He reached out and the tips of his fingers touched wet with sweat strands of Richard’s black hair. He swore to himself to not allow anything to happen to Richard.

Till turned to face his father.
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Regen (Rain)