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The Whore House	By : GabrielPierce Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1524 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Whore House
- 1
Disclaimer: just in case you didn't realize, this is a work of pure fiction...i dont' mean to imply that either Darren or Daniel have a certain sexual prefernce...i'm just writing this for my own enjoyment and sharing...
The Whore House
Darren
Shudder as the door flies open. Obediently, without comment or order I rise to my knees. No orders are needed here. I know what's expected. I just wish it wasn't so dark. I can't even see the moon, the shutters are locked tight. Whoever's entered is drunk, ( not that surprising really). They stagger, stumble towards the. Male or female? I listen. Heavy footfalls, heavy breathing. Male. I cringe, this is going to hurt.
Daniel
Clarity increases with pleasure. Moans, grunts are escaping my body. My latest victim silent. Guess they've been trained that way, suits me damned fine. Pleasure, pressure, building in my balls, my head. Close, so gods damned cloooose. I thrust harder, deeper, my body working without my control, the drugs took care of that. My hand slips drunkenly from it's hold. Cock. Shit. Fuck. It's a guy! Who'm I to complain? I run my fingers up the limp shaft. I want him hard. I drive in deeper, all…most…there…Faster. Harder. "Ahhhh." Strangled moan. My body explodes through the head of my cock. A groan escapes my parched, cracked lips. I shift an inch and suddenly I'm slumped on the bed beside him. His head is hung low, something dark and sticky running down between his eyes. I reach out to taste it. He flinches. Blood. Musta been thrashing his head against the bed head. That felt good, but my stomach feels like…I roll over just in time for my stomach to empty itself onto the floor beside this poor excuse for a bed. Spinning room. Jesus, fuck, I feel shoddy.
Darren
He searches for a hole, any hole to penetrate. Fumbling, cursing. His words slurred beyond comprehension. He could be speaking another language for all his mumblings. Maybe he is. I hope he's not giving me orders. Pain shoots up my spine. My forehead bashes into the bedhead. Wrought iron. I'm silent. Guess he found what he was looking for. I grit my teeth. Pain as he slides out then cursing thrusts deep again. I hope that hurt him. Pain, muscles lock in agony. He shifted his angle and is now bombarding my prostrate. Tears well in my eyes. Pain. I want to scream. Silence. Except for his grunts, groans, moans.
He's moving faster, harder. I can feel blood sliding down between my eyes. Even if I could see, the room would be spinning too fast to notice detail. His hand slips, caresses my limp dick. He pauses a moment then resumes his rhythm, harder this time. My head smashing against the iron. It's hard to concentrate, hard to keep unmoving, quiet, conscious. I need to sleep. My tightly closed eyes squeeze tighter. Stop, stop, I want this to stop. Can't …keep… conscious. His body jerks inside me, coming hard, convulsing.
Eventually he slumps down beside me. I can't move, muscles are beyond my control, I feel like I'm floating. Don't move. Don't do anything wrong. Don't give him an excuse to beat you. Not that half of them ever need an excuse. I repeat the mantra to try and keep control of myself, to stop the quick decent into darkness.
Fingertips on my forehead. I flinch involuntarily. I force my eyes to open but I'm staring straight down. He's looking at me. Still, silent for a moment then he rolls over, away from me. I almost sigh in relief. He vomits over the side of the bed. I hear it splatter onto the floor. He doesn't move again. I can barely smell the mess he's made through the stench that already permeates this room. I want to lie down but my muscles aren't moving and I don't have the energy to force them.
Still Darren...
When guards come hours later to remove him and a cleaner arrives to straighten the room my muscles still aren't responding but it doesn't matter cause I can hardly feel anything of my body. Hand in my hair, head yanked back. "Is he dead?" Pause. "Nah he's breathing." "Should we grab the doc?" "Nah,he's fine." Their voices sound erethral, hollow, echoing, far away. I don't even feel the next visitor.
Darren
I'm begining to get familiar with that footfall. Each time he's less and less drunk. Each time he fucks me till I bleed, but at least he doesn't beat me, merely collapses beside me. I can feel eyes on me now, squinting in he darkness.
Daniel
It's too dark in here. I'm begining to wonder. Wonder what he looks like this good fuck of mine. People have begun to notice my preference for this place. I say it's the good wine, but i'm drinking less and less of the watery shit they serve. I keep coming back for him. Don't know why, just know he feels good. Doesn't complain, doesn't move, doesn't make a noise. Might as well be a corpse, but he's warm. Only difference and a damn good one at that. Brought him some of my own whisky this time, he's been slipping lately, needs something strong to keep him up. Wonder when they fed him last. Maybe I should bring him food. "Heads up buddy."
Darren
He reefs my head back, pushes a bottle to my lips and I almost choke. Whiskey. I cough. He pushes it to my lips again. I swallow this time. Liquid. I don't care what kind. my body convulses in revulsion, shakes with disgust. He laughs, slaps me on the back and recpas the bottle. He's stone cold sober tonight. "Like that eh boy?" Like it? I don't care, it's liquid and i'm so gods damned thirsty. Hunger i can ignor, but not thirst. He doesn't speak again, just fucks me.
Daniel.
Whiskey didn't seem to work all that well, he collapsed three quarters of my way through. So i brought him food this time, and water. I even remembered to bring a damned light. He doesn't even rise to his knees when the door opens. I can see the cream expanse of his back, shoulders, and arse. He's slumped face down on the mattress, unmoving, hands tied together above his head. Fuck is he dead?
Darren.
I can't move. I heard the door open. Should I be doing something? I'm supposed to be doing something... Hands are pushing, pulling at one shouldr. What? Moments later i'm on my back. Hey?
Daniel
He's pretty. Beyond the dirt, the blood, the sweat, tears, dust and gods know what else he's actually pretty. Probably the reason he ended up here in the first place. Lot of good it did him. "Oi. Open your eyes."
Darren
Light! Ahh! Fuck. Shit. "Are you...I ah...brought some food, water." I freeze. Whaaat? He stuffs bread in my face. I can't move. "Eat it." he orders. I force my mouth to open, bite the bread and chew. He puts a mug of water to my lips after I swallow.I guzzle the lot before he can take it away. "Thirsy?" I force my eyes open again. The light hurts. I squint. "Pretty boy aren't you." he's frowning. I'm shocked, he doesn't look any loder than me. Blonde. Green or blue eyes. Tall, thin. "More water?" I can't move. i'm not supposed to move. "I guess so." He puts another mug to my lips. I guzzle the lot.
Daniel
Seems to like the water. He really is pretty, and this room is a dump. Maybe we can use another room next time. But then I remember. There won't be a next time. I have to go home to my wife. Back to the woman where sex is a negotiation and a manipulation. I should just keep fucking him instead, that'd fuck up her plans. I freeze. Could i? he can't cost much. Not that I dont' have the money, but... Hell why not? I'll need to get him to my hotel, cleaned up and ready to travel by tomorrow morning. "Can you walk?"
Darren.
Can I what??? He sighs. "Stay here." I can't move can I? He's gone awhile and i'm guessing he's not coming back. Vision begins to blur around the edges, my eyes slide close.
Two sets of heavy footsteps. "You'll have to carry him." I'm frozen. What's going on? Suddenly i'm fully awear. More awear than i've been for months, years, i've lost track. What's going on? Where are they takeing me? Are they going to kill me? I try to move. "Keep still!" I freeze, heart pounding.Daniel
Home. Well what’s been home for the last three months. “Put him in the room, lay him on the bed.” He grunted. Big burly, ugly brut. I heard a thump. Growling I stride through the doorway. “What the hell was that?” “He slipped.” Open innocence. I don’t like this pathetic, smelly excuse for a man. I snort. “Should I bind him again, to the bed?” “No, just leave him where he is.” His eyes flicker from the pleasure slave to my belt purse. I make him wait while I ring for and speak to a number of servants. That should teach him to drop valuable packages. Finally at leisure I pull out two coppers and throw them at him. Watch as he saunters off in silence.
I watch the rise and fall of his slim chest, bones. Disgusting really, he’ll have to be fattened up. He isn’t moving otherwise. Servants should arrive soon to wash and clothe him decently, ready for my departure. I wonder briefly if I should get him a separate carriage, but in the end it’ll be too much trouble, he’ll have to travel with me, he sure as hell can’t ride or walk. I scoff internally at the thought of servants riding, slaves don’t ride, they walk or ride with the baggage cart, but my luggage left this morning. How inconvenient, now I’ll have to share my carriage with a slave. It’s almost intolerable, but he does have a pretty face, and I’m sure he’ll find ways of entertaining me. The image of him bobbing up and down on my cock flits through my head. “Hmm…you may be more useful than I thought.” Pleased with myself I go off to a late dinner.
Darren
Where am I? Where have they taken me? Are they going to kill me? Thump I’ve fallen. We’ve stopped at last. I’m finally on solid ground again. I sigh softly into the cold this pallet. It feels like heaven after the hard bed, and it’s clean, it’s not wet, damp, sodden and rotting in places, a putrid stench of vomit, cum, blood, sweat, my tears. Heaven, this is heaven. People…should I be doing something? Getting up? I try to move and fail. Too weak. People, footsteps coming and going then nothing. I’m alone. Then people again I’m being picked up, carried. Splash! Ahhhh! They’re drowning me! My eyes fly open, my limps flailing. Hard fingers hold me down, but not under the water. “Be still!” an old woman commands. I freeze obedient. Two other women hold me tight. I’m in a tub of water. Bath! My god it’s a bath. Without another word they begin to wash me. I lay back, unable to move, letting their hands wash over me. They push me down under the water and I come up gasping. They scrub my skin roughly, then my scalp, my hair. I’m pulled up and suddenly half my knotted hair is gone. Minutes later it’s short and untangled round my face, at my neck. Finally I’m hauled out of the bath and briskly dried then dressed. Clothes…I haven’t felt clothes…in …it must be years. They’re so soft, the pants just the right size, the shirt hangs from my shoulders but they’re the finest clothes I’ve ever worn.
I’ve been sold! The thought finally hits. Jacob sold me to that man. He must be rich for these clothes to be so fine and me only a slave. I wonder what he wants me for. Probably a pleasure slave. A personal pleasure slave? I can only hope. He doesn’t beat me, well at least he hasn’t yet. Things could be worse, I could still be tied to that bed.
- 1
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The Whore House