by Max Vos
Stone lost all sense of time. He had no way of knowing how long Benoit banged away at his ass. The pain had dulled to the point where he didn’t truly feel it, or anything else. His mind was numb, but his body was still reacting to the physical assault. In his mind‘s eye, he had split into two different beings. One was the physical, the other his inner being, floating up above himself, slowly dying, crying out in agony.
Physically, he could feel his nuts draw up and discharge their pent-up inventory. He was coming, and coming hard. His dick pulsed and jerked as cum splattered the side of the table and floor. Then it was Benoit’s turn. He could feel Benoit’s dick swell, just before hot white lava splattered his insides. Oddly enough, Stone noticed that Benoit must have had an immense pent-up load of cum, since he felt some of it slipping out of him, running down his leg.
When Benoit collapsed on top of Stone’s back, his breath labored, he whispered into Stone’s ear, “Sammy, I’m sorry it had to happen like this. I know this isn’t the way you wanted it, but I hope you’ll get some satisfaction that it finally did happen.”
What Benoit said exploded in Stone’s head, his mind screaming, He knew! He knew I wanted him all this time! He knew it!
The applause and cheering brought Stone back to the present. His whole world crashed in upon itself. Benoit knew I wanted him. Did he also know I loved him?
The broken Marine didn’t have time to contemplate this as Benoit was pulled off him. Someone was roughly wiping up the cum dripping from his well-fucked ass and legs. The air was cool where the cum had been, making it all seem so surreal.
Abdul was giving some sort of speech, and his men cheered as he finished. It wasn’t long before Stone knew what they were cheering about.
In front of him, a man dropped his pants and shoved his semi-hard dick in Stone’s mouth, while another plunged his erection into the Marine’s ass. The dick in Stone’s mouth tasted nasty, and the crotch smelled rank, like old stale piss. The two men pounded into him from either end until they both exploded. Stone’s mouth was filled with spunk, and he could feel the deposit of the other man added to Benoit’s.
When both men were finished, others took their place. Stone finally lost count after three, no longer caring. There seemed to be an endless line of men using him as a cum depository. Load after load pumped into the prone American. His lips were bruised, and he could taste the slight coppery flavor of blood. When the next man stepped up and pushed his manhood into Stone’s now well-used hole, it was actually audible. For some odd reason, Stone found that funny.
How long the gang rape lasted, Stone had no idea and didn’t care. He was totally detached from the whole ordeal. Inside, he was dead. The man he respected, who Stone hoped respected him, the one he had secretly loved, knew about him and the desire he thought he had hidden from him. What Stone had thought was his secret hadn’t been such a secret after all.
The new man who had been thrust into Stone’s life, Abbas, had just witnessed his being fucked by these dirty animals. The look of disgust on his face was fresh in Stone’s mind. He was now no better than any common street whore, and who would ever want someone like that? His mind screamed, my heart may still be beating, I may still be breathing, but inside I am dead. Nothing matters any more.
It was over. Finally. Stone hardly noticed the cramping in his legs and shoulders. It didn’t matter. The taste in his mouth of having swallowed so many loads of semen didn’t matter. His gaping asshole, oozing copious amounts of splooge that ran down the inside of his legs all the way to the floor, didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more. He was dead, after all.
Stone was untied and pulled to his feet. Two men held him up, his legs cramping so hard that he couldn’t stand on his own. Looking up, he saw Benoit, his hands bound, hanging from a hook in the wall above his head, a dirty rag stuffed into his mouth. A boot was tied to him, and hung from his testicles. Benoit, his friend, the one he had secretly loved, the one whom Stone had trusted his life to, had just witnessed the whole thing. Benoit’s handsome face was tear-stained, and his eyes were those of a wounded animal. Stone lowered his head, unable to look him in the eye.
Stone was dragged back to his cell and tossed onto the thin mattress. Once he was alone, he pulled the scratchy wool blanket around himself. The Marine curled up and waited for his body to catch up to his soul. He prayed for his heart to stop, for it all to end.
Chapter 7
Stone slept. His body shut down, and his mind escaped in sleep. He slept until he felt something or someone stroking his cheek softly. It must be a dream, he thought at first, but when he heard his name whispered, he knew he was awake. He also knew it was Abbas. Why is he here?
That last person Stone wanted to see was him, remembering the look on his face. As a matter of fact, he didn’t want to see anyone. He curled into himself even more tightly, trying to discourage the other man. He wanted Abbas to go away and leave him alone. The only peace the shattered Marine knew right then was sleep, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to that peace.
“Sam, please.” Abbas spoke softly, a whisper, close to Stone’s ear.
Stone refused to answer, only moving closer to the wall, pulling himself even more tightly into a ball, hoping the Arab would go away.
“I brought you something to eat.” Abbas pushed closer to the man curled up in a fetal position. “You need to keep up your strength.”
There was no way for Stone to escape him. He had moved as far into the corner as he could, but still Abbas persisted.
“Go away.”
“You must eat.” Abbas attempted to pull Stone away from the wall.
Still, Stone refused to move. He just ignored Abbas, praying he would go away. Then, startled, the Marine felt the other man lie down behind him. Abbas spooned up close to Stone’s cold body, holding him against his warm one. With one hand he stroked the American’s head, and rubbed his shoulder with the other.
Despite himself, Stone relaxed into Abbas. His warm body pushed some of the cold away, again making Stone realize how used to cold he had become. Feeling Stone’s body loosen up, Abbas wrapped his arm around him, his palm flat against his chest, rubbing in small circles.
“Why are you here, Abbas?” Stone had to know.
“I care what happens to you, Samuel J. Stone.” The way he said it implied that the Marine should have known this.
“I saw the way you looked at me.” A bitter taste arose in Stone’s mouth as he recalled that look. The memory was still vivid in his mind. The total disgust that he’d seen on Abbas’s face flashed in his head. His body cringed at the recollection, his jaw tightening.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sam.” Abbas pulled Sam closer to his body.
How can he not know what I’m talking about? His response pissed Stone off.
“Get away from me, Abbas!” Stone jerked away from him as far as he could, pushing his hand off him.
“I do not understand.” Abbas was obviously startled.
Stone could tell Abbas didn’t get what he was talking about. Rolling over so he could see Abbas’s face in the dim moonlight streaming through the small gap of the window.
“I saw the look of disgust on your face when you looked at me.” Stone kept studying Abbas’s face for any signs of lying. “The revulsion was abundantly clear as those…those…savages fucking raped me.”
Abbas took hold of Stone, pulling him into his body. “Oh, Sam, I wasn’t looking at you. It was at the others, at them, at the whole situation. They were the ones I found so repulsive!”
The anguish in Abbas’s voice convinced Stone that he was telling the truth. Stone finally relaxed and allowed himself to be pulled into Abbas’s warmth, his masculine, clean scent enveloping the Marine’s senses. The Arab’s strong arms wrapped around Stone, breaking down the emotional wall that he had erected. Torrents of pent-up feelings burst from the abused man. Burying his face in Abbas’s firm chest, Stone sobbed uncontrollably while the other man held him.
Everything came pouring out. Stone had not cried like this since his Grandpa had died when he was eleven. It was such a foreign feeling to him.
Stone did not know how long it went on, but it had to have been quite a while, because of the wetness of Abbas’s Western-style shirt. With the tip of his forefinger, Abbas lifted Stone’s chin, and while looking into his eyes, he tried to kiss the Marine.
Panic alarms went off in Stone’s head, knowing how many loads of cum he had been forced to swallow. Feeling filthy, he withdrew and turned his head away.
“Please, don’t,” Stone pleaded. “I’m so…with…you know what…”
“It does not matter to me, Sam.” Abbas grasped what Stone was trying to say.
“But it does to me!”
Stone felt so used, so dirty. The many ejaculations that had been pumped into him were still seeping out of his ass, reinforcing that fact.
“All right, Sam, I won’t force anything on you.” Abbas’s voice soothed.
Abbas’s hand circled, rubbing Stone’s back as he held him. It was so good to feel his warmth, the security of his body next to his; Stone couldn’t help but press further into him.
“Do you think you can eat something?” Stone felt the warm breath caress his ear as Abbas spoke. “Will you at least try?”
“I’ll try,” Stone murmured into his shoulder, still having no appetite.
Helping him sit up, Abbas handed Stone a substantially larger foil package than what he’d brought the day before. Unfolding it, he was rewarded with a flat bread of some kind, filled with meat and a sort of cream sauce, still slightly warm. When the aroma wafted up to his nose, Stone’s stomach rumbled loudly.
Abbas chuckled. “Perhaps you are hungrier than you thought.”
Stone devoured the meal Abbas had brought. The only food he’d had in the last three days had been the stale bread, Gummy Bears, and jerky that Abbas had brought him. Although it wasn’t a large meal, it satisfied him, and made him at least feel full.
“I have another surprise for you.” Abbas stretched out his leg, dug in his pocket, and pulled out a small square of foil and a toothbrush, the head also wrapped in foil. “The toothbrush is used, but I washed it in alcohol,” he said. “You must use it now so that I may take it with me. If it were found, it would endanger us both.”
“Oh my God, thank you.” Stone was so relieved to see a way to cleanse his mouth.
With some of the water Stone brushed his teeth, using the toothpaste in the small foil pouch. He scoured out his mouth, brushing so hard he could taste blood. Rinsing out his mouth, then the toothbrush, Stone rewrapped the toothbrush and handed both items back to Abbas.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Stone said softly, sitting close to Abbas. “For the food, and now this.”
Abbas tucked the blanket around the naked, chilled Marine, and then drew him close once again. “I will do whatever I can. I am only sorry it isn’t more.” He paused for a moment, and Stone could feel his arm tense around him. “I would have stopped what happened earlier if I could have, Sam. I hope you believe me.”
Thinking on this a moment, reexamining all the things that had taken place, Stone knew that there was nothing that Abbas could have done.
“I know, Abbas, I know. I’m sorry that I doubted you.” Everything that had happened replayed in his mind, like a film on fast-forward. There was nothing Abbas could have done, and he understood this.
“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question, but was in a way. Abbas was expecting an answer.
Stone froze. Was I that fucking transparent?
“Yes, Abbas, I do love him,” Stone whispered, tears filling his eyes. “I love him as a brother, as a friend. He has a wife and infant son at home who love him also.”
“But you are in love with him,” Abbas said, his sadness apparent.
“I thought I was…maybe, at one time.” Stone was so conflicted now with everything that had happened. “We are…were very close. I think maybe I confused my feelings for him.” The Marine looked at Abbas. “I don’t know what I feel any more.” which was true. “I don’t want to feel anything right now.”
Abbas didn’t say anything.
Stone put his hand on the Arab’s thigh, still looking at him. “Please, Abbas, I am so torn right now…I…”
Abbas nodded, looking towards the beaten man. “You needn’t explain, Sam.”
“You know what I wish?” Stone asked Abbas.
“What do you wish?” His slight smile brightened the American somewhat.
“I wish that we had met back home, and you were at Emory. I wish that we could have met on different terms.” Stone wanted that to be true right now, but knew it was only a fantasy.
“If that could have happened, Sam, I think I would be a much happier man than I am today.” The smile was gone, replaced by a faraway, longing look.
This time it was Stone who took the initiative. It was he who touched the dark-skinned chin, a heavy five-o’clock shadow making it scratchy. Stone brought the chin forward, then kissed Abbas’s dark rose lips gently.
The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but long enough to confirm to Stone that Abbas was a special man. He was a man whom Stone wanted to get to know. That was until reality slammed into him like a runaway train.
Abbas must have seen or sensed the quick change in the man who had just kissed him.
“We must have hope, Sam.” Their eyes locked. Both men understood the predicament they were currently in. “We have to wait until we can make a move. Patience is going to be required.”
“I hope I can hold out.” This was the first time Stone doubted himself.
“You are strong of mind and strong of will, Sam. You must keep hope in here.” Abbas tapped Stone’s chest, over his heart.
“I’ll try, Abbas. I will try.”
Abbas kissed him, almost chastely.
“I must go,” he announced as he stood up.
“Abbas?” He turned back to Stone. “Do you think you can help Benoit?” the Marine tentatively asked him. “Please?”
His mouth tightened slightly. He nodded, and then he was gone.
Chapter 8
Abbas stealthily slipped inside the door of Benoit’s cold prison cell, not knowing what kind of reception he would get. He had mixed feelings about this handsome American. On one hand, he felt obligated to try and like the man because he was Samuel’s friend, but on the other, as much as he hated to admit it, he was jealous of him as well.
“What do you want?” Benoit’s voice was gruff and suspicious.
“I told Samuel that I would try and help you,” Abbas answered quietly.
“Yeah?” Surprise mixed with suspicion was evident. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Abbas looked deep in thought for a moment. “What would you need for me to prove it to you?”
“Tell me something you know about Sam,” Benoit said without hesitation.
“Samuel J. Stone is from Atlanta. He also told me that you have a wife and infant son waiting for you back home.” Abbas wasn’t sure if this would be enough to convince Benoit.
Benoit moved toward Abbas, who could barely make out his shape in the small room. Then Benoit came within inches of Abbas, startling him. Peering at him, Benoit judged him, seeing if he was being truthful. Abbas did not hold this against him; he would be suspicious as well had the rolls been reversed. Benoit must have been satisfied with what he saw.
“I brought you something to eat.” Abbas pulled out a foil packet and handed it to Benoit.
Benoit took the parcel and unwrapped it cautiously, his eyes darting back and forth between it and Abbas, still not trusting the Arab completely. Bringing the packet to his face, he smelled it.
“I assure you, there is nothing wrong with it. It is only food.” The frustration seeped into Abbas’s voice as he spoke. “I’m taking a considerable risk in seeing you at all.” The Arab was also acutely aware of Benoit’s nakedness.
Benoit
stopped. He looked even closer at Abbas. “Why would you be at risk?”
“As I told Samuel, I am as much a prisoner here as you are,” Abbas spat out. “I do not wish to be here anymore than you do.”
Benoit took a small, tentative bite of the flat bread with some sort of meat and cream sauce. That was all it took. The only thing that he’d had to eat in the last three days was some stale hard bread, and his body needed food. He devoured the rest in three bites.
“Thank you…?” Benoit was asking for a name.
“Abbas. Abbas Hakim.”
“Thank you, Abbas.”
“I must take the trash with me,” Abbas explained. “There can be no evidence that I was here.”
Benoit wadded up the used foil and handed it back to Abbas, who placed it in his pocket.
“Is Sam okay?” Even in the dim light, Abbas could see the look of concern on Sam’s friend’s face.
“He is…hurt here,” Abbas said, his fist thumping his chest. “It is more from you witnessing his shame and humiliation than anything else. Samuel will be okay, in time,” Abbas answered, but even he was not confident in his answer, and Benoit picked up on that.
Benoit put both hands on Abbas’s shoulders and shook him slightly. He asked, “Tell me the truth. Is he going to be all right?”
“What happened today–well, now yesterday–took its toll on him,” Abbas admitted to Benoit.
“I wanted to kill those bastards for what they did to him.” Benoit turned his head and spat after his statement.
Before Abbas could think or stop himself, “It wasn’t so much them that he had the issue with.”
Benoit froze. The realization of what Abbas had said sank in. His eyes were wide, and even in the cold, dim light, the moisture in his eyes was clear. “It was because of me, wasn’t it?”
Abbas took a little more time answering. “Yes, I believe so. He could have dealt with the others…but not you.”
The look on Benoit’s face told Abbas everything. “You knew, didn’t you?” Abbas could hardly contain the anger he felt, rising inside of him.
