All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at:
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PJ
D'n'M Part 5
From Chapter 2:
Nico opened his mouth to protest, to tell Santos to stop, to demand that Miguel should make all this go away. But one look at the expression on Miguel's face and whatever words were about to come out of Nico's mouth became frozen in his throat. It wouldn't be long before they were replaced by something much, much harder to swallow.
Be advised, this chapter includes scenes of child sexual abuse.
Chapter 3:
"If you've got any sense in that head of yours you'll stop making a fuss and let him do whatever he wants to do. Just get it done." Santos had pulled Nico into a room at the far end of the upstairs passageway. He had not been there before. The room he shared with his mum was at the back of La Casa on the ground floor. The part of the house that Santos had brought him to was unfamiliar to him although he knew it was where business involving the girls took place.
The room he was now in was subtly-lit and airy, with an old-fashioned ceiling fan whirring above his head. Its main feature was a large bed against the far wall with a multi-coloured cover and a mound of pillows. In one corner stood an antique chair upholstered in a cheery blue and white striped pattern, and in another a wooden chest of drawers with a variety of pots, bottles and tubes along with a pile of plain, white towels. There was an upright wooden chair beside the single window which was draped with floral patterned curtains. There was a pale-coloured rug on the tiled floor. On each wall, apart from the one with the window, hung a large mirror. Opposite the window was a second, closed, door. Nico had no idea where it led. This could have been the master bedroom of any middle class villa in the city. At the time he registered none of the details, it was only later, much later, that they came back to him as clear as a photo. He realised his arm was hurting from where Santos had been gripping him, not entirely unkindly. "If you keep fighting it'll go much worse for you. Stay quiet, do what you're told, survive another day."
Nico couldn't remember hearing Santos say so much at one time before. He realised that the older boy sounded anxious, as if there was something he knew but wasn't sharing. It made him feel strangely uncomfortable. What, he wondered, was going on?
"What ... what do you mean, `Let him do whatever he wants'"? he asked, his voice unsteady, "And why have you brought me here?"
"Too many questions," was the enigmatic answer. "Take off your clothes. Leave on just your underwear."
Take off his clothes? This instruction made no sense to Nico at all. Was he being expected to sleep in this strange room instead the one he shared with his mother downstairs? He looked questioningly at the older boy, silently asking for an answer. When it came it wasn't at all what he expected.
"Don't be an idiot," was the blunt reply. "You know well enough what goes on up here. Your mother does it, though the boss says not nearly often or well enough these days."
This answer created even more confusion in Nico's mind. Yes, he wasn't stupid or blind, he'd lived there long enough to know exactly what went on with La Casa's visitors in these upstairs rooms. It was, after all, the main reason why they came there in the first place. But that knowledge didn't at all help to explain why he had been brought to the room.
"But that stuff, the upstairs stuff, that's just with the girls. I'm a boy," he concluded, indignantly. But even as he was saying it he was remembering the bad old days when he and his mum had had no choice but to try to survive on the streets with all the other no-hopers, end-of-the-liners, stoners, criminals and no-goods. And some of them, some of the other children - both girls and boys, some his age and even younger - he knew what they did, had to do, to guarantee the next meal. And not just for themselves either. Often it was for even younger brothers and sisters who had been orphaned young or simply abandoned by parents who couldn't cope, didn't care, were too drugged up or in prison. Yes, he knew what went on in the world, but surely not in La Casa, not to him, not Miguel's acknowledged favourite.
"Get your clothes off now or I'll rip them off." Santos had obviously come to the end of his patience and his harsh words shook Nico out of his mental journey back to his grim and messy past and bang into what was beginning to feel like an even worse present. He toed off his Nikes and pulled his T over his head. There he stopped.
"And the shorts. Like I said before, just leave your underwear."
Nico hesitated.
"Now!"
Santos advanced towards him. Nico dropped his shorts. Santos pushed him over towards the bed and turned to go but before leaving the room he looked back over his shoulder, "It won't be too bad. He likes you. Just do whatever he tells you and ask no questions. Remember, if he enjoys you he'll want to come back and that will make the boss happy too, and that will be good for you and for your mum. You know what they say, `No pain, no gain.'"
Pain? What did Santos mean by pain? Nico genuinely had no idea but he was finally starting to realise that life was about to take a trip down the toilet. It was obviously time to run, to get out of there, but at the exact same moment that he arrived at that decision the door opened and Su Excelencia walked into the room. Too late. He'd missed his chance to escape. But then again, maybe it wasn't too late. Like Santos said, the man liked him, had smiled at him and stroked him, had sat him on his knee and given him money. Did that sound like someone who wanted to hurt him? Inflict pain on him? Surely, reasoned Nico in his racing-at-a-hundred-miles-an-hour mind, surely he'd simply have to explain that there'd been a mistake, that he was a boy, that the sort of things he wanted to do were things that men did with girls, that he'd be better off with someone like Tori. Yes, Tori. He could offer to go and get Tori. That way he'd be doing all of them a favour, Su Excelencia would get the pleasure he was expecting, Tori would get business from La Casa's premier visitor and, most importantly, he'd get himself out of this terrifying situation. They'd all be winners.
"Ah, good," said Su Excelencia as he took a step into the room, using the voice that had been smoothed and cultured by hundreds of years of privilege and breeding, "You're ready for me. Thank you, er ..." he added, looking towards Santos.
"Santos," said Santos, making to walk past the man to leave the room. But he didn't make it to the door.
"No Santos, stay. Just in case ..."
"In case?"
"In case the boy needs some ... encouragement," said the man, ominously.
Nico didn't really understand the significance of the words but he couldn't miss the underlying tone of menace they contained. It was a tone he'd never heard before from Su Excelencia and it only further reinforced his feeling that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and, worse, that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Santos looked uncomfortably around the room as if hoping to find another way out. Not finding one (probably the other door led to a bathroom thought Nico), he went and stood beside the upright wooden chair on the window wall.
"Sit," instructed Su Excelencia, "You might as well be comfortable." Then glancing across at Nico, "I hope we'll all be comfortable."
It was then that the man moved across the room and came to stand behind Nico, his more than six-foot height towering over the child who stood now, shivering slightly (though it wasn't at all cold) like a young colt, with his hands cupped over his boy-parts and his eyes tightly closed. Nico felt the front of the adult body pressed close to the back of his. He was relieved to realise that it was still a clothed body, fully clothed, and that no-one had said anything about him taking off his only-worn-for-a --few-days Fruit of the Looms. Almost immediately there were adult hands on his shoulders and adult lips kissing the side of his neck. Weird. Almost as a reflex he opened his eyes and found himself looking directly at his own reflection in the mirror across the room as the hands that had been on his shoulders began to travel downwards, first across his totally flat chest and then down over his equally featureless tummy. It was only too obvious to the boy where they were heading.
Then, as he continued to look in the mirror, he realised that he had never before taken the time to stop and examine his almost-naked self. What he saw seemed pretty ordinary and unremarkable, just like any boy of similar age that you might see on any street in the city. His shoulders and hips were narrow, his arms and legs thin but beginning to lengthen with the effects of the hormones that were newly flooding through them. His blonde hair was clean but untidy and his young face with its blue eyes was, at yet, unspoiled by those same chemicals that often played havoc with teenage skin. The pale and the tanned parts of his body that had so caught Miguel's attention stood out in sharp contrast to each other. He looked okay, but nothing special was his silent verdict but it seemed as if Su Excelencia didn't share that opinion. As the man's hands continued on their journey Nico tried to wriggle away. He was stilled by a harsh, "Do not move unless I tell you to," spoken directly into his ear in a voice with very little of its usual veneer of culture and reasonableness.
There was none of the softness in the voice that he had become used to during all the previous visits, downstairs in the big main room of La Casa, no, nor none of the warmth or affection either. Nico was quickly realising that everything he had experienced with the man before had been nothing more than a façade, a charade, a pretence. The reality was, in fact, that the hands that were making their inexorable way further down his body, pushing aside Nico's own and beginning to rub up and down over the thinly-clad young boy bulge, those hands were capable of more cruelty than even Nico, with his experiences on the streets of the city, had ever experienced or could imagine. He looked towards Santos, sitting by the window, but he just raised his shoulders in a silent shrug. There was nothing he could do to help. `Do what you're told and survive another day' was what the gesture seemed to be reminding him. Nico tried to thrust the middle part of his body backwards, away from the invading hands. The result was him being pushed roughly to his knees and turned forcibly round so he was face-on to the man's own mid-section or, more specifically, his zipper.
"That was not very clever," hissed Su Excelencia. "This could have all been very pleasurable for both of us, but now you've spoiled it and need to be taught a lesson." He turned towards Santos, still sitting on the chair by the window.
"Come over here. If he tries to move hit him hard. But not his face. We wouldn't want to upset Senor Miguel by spoiling this young pretty one's good looks, now would we?"
Nico could hear Santos approaching but he didn't dare turn his head to look for fear of what might happen to him if he did. In the time it took the older boy to cross the room Su Excelencia had lowered his zip and pulled out his dick. There was no chance of Nico disobeying the man by moving because he was frozen to the spot. He had never seen a grown man's stiffie before, had no idea how big, how powerful, how threatening one could look, especially one that was just inches from his face.
"Open your mouth and put out your tongue."
The fact that Nico followed neither instruction had nothing to do with defiance and everything to do with shock -- the shock of being in this situation at all, the shock of, as it seemed, Su Excelencia's total personality change, the shock of being all but naked and on his knees, the shock of being faced with a fully hard, grown man's penis. But his failure to comply with the order had consequences that Nico, literally, was not in a position to see. The man looked meaningfully at Santos who, reluctantly, delivered a sharp slap to the back of Nico's head. The shock of the blow forced the boy's mouth open. The man's blood-filled member was immediately rammed in.
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