Friday, January 20, 2012

Majorca Flats -- 282


 “My hands were tied together, and my feet. Then he came in. He didn't put on the light. He just—oh, God! —he just …” Cody stopped and swallowed. “He tied my legs back to the bed-head and he … fuck … he fucked me.” He stopped unable to continue. The silence in the room was broken only by soft voices from the house behind and by the temple-bell calls of magpies outside.
Cody swallowed the water. He looked at Colin, all at once angry. “I suppose you think that we like that sort of thing! That we enjoy being raped!”
Colin shook his head. “No. No one likes to be raped.” His face was wary.
Cody looked down at the table top. There was a tense silence. At last he said, “He didn't use lube. He just … Then after that, every time he did it, it hurt. And he would shout and mutter things at me. 'You're a foul pervert!' 'This is your punishment from God', stuff like that. Only he was getting off on it. He was hard, rigid with excitement. Oh, fucking Jesus, I don't think I'll ever be able to have sex again.” He stopped again. “When I close my eyes,” he said at last, “I see his face. His eyes. Staring at me. Filled with hate. And he made me look at him. He cut me every time he fucked me.” Cody pulled off his T-shirt and turned so that they could see the cuts on his body. “And when I closed my eyes and refused to look at him … he … cut a chunk ... out of me.” Cody jerkily pulled down the boardies Michael had lent him and showed them his buttocks, almost as if he were proud of it, as if he wanted to rub their face in the reality. The square inch hole in his flesh was scabbed but had started to bleed again.




Episodes 1 to 220 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)

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