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:
pjalexander1753@gmail.com
PJ
D'n'M Part 5
From Chapter 9:
Which meant that Nico had no idea of everything that was going on thousands of miles away to the north to reunite him with his mum's family, and the silence which turned from days into weeks into months simply confirmed to him every negative thing that she had told him about them. With each passing day he became more and more surly and angry and increasingly feared by the other residents, and even by some of the staff. He continued to speak only when there was absolutely no alternative, but his range of gestures, facial expressions and occasional expletive-filled outbursts became both familiar and recognisable and it was never difficult to work out what he wanted or how he was feeling or, most dangerously, who had crossed the line into his jealously-guarded, keep-away-or-you'll-regret-it personal space.
Chapter 10:
There were voices in the darkness, whispered voices. Three or four at least. Nico, lying on his side and instantly wide awake, immediately balled his fists. Other than that he didn't move. Silence. He strained to hear. One voice now, a commanding tone, but too quiet to make out the actual words. Nico tensed, readying himself for whatever was about to happen, knowing that, whatever it was, he was the intended target. Suddenly the bed covers were pulled off and rough hands rolled him onto his back. Brilliant white light pierced the darkness and bored into his eyes. Instinctively he slammed his lids shut but a stinging slap across his face forced them open again.
"Get him up," hissed a voice, one Nico recognised. Alvarez, one of the two boys who had tried and failed to put him in his place when he had first arrived at Our Lady of Flowers. Ever since then Alvarez had made it clear that he considered there to be unfinished business and that he was just biding his time. Well, it looked as if that time had come.
More hands dragged him from his bed, pulling him to his feet and pining his hands behind his back. Whoever was holding the torch made sure to keep it shining directly at Nico so he was totally unable to work out who, apart from Alvarez, was part of this ambush. But he didn't have time to think about it. In one swift move his boxer shorts were pulled down to his knees, exposing his junk and his butt and effectively making it impossible for him to get away. The front of his T was pulled up and over his head, along with the neck hole, then dragged half way down his arms, pinning them to his sides. He was as fully rendered immobile and helpless as if he'd been tied with ropes.
"Take him." Alvarez again. As soon as the order was given Nico felt himself being grabbed by his upper arms and yanked forwards, his feet dragging painfully behind him across the wooden floor. He didn't struggle or try to resist, simply forced his body to go limp and compliant, something he'd had plenty of experience of during his years working the streets of BA. Still the only light came from the torch, or maybe it was a phone. Whatever, he couldn't see the others but he knew there were at least four. Not the best odds.
His cheek still stung from where it had been slapped so he wasn't about to struggle or call out or, indeed, do anything to risk being struck again. Or worse. But he was thinking. Alvarez, he knew, was a thug and a bully who ruled the other boys in the dorm through fear and reputation. At sixteen he was the oldest and, just like most bullies Nico had ever encountered, Alvarez rarely laid a hand on any of his victims. For that he relied on his two side-kicks, Rocco and Bernard. So it was a certain bet that they were both among his attackers. The other most likely candidate to make up the foursome was Enrique, fourteen years old but barely five feet tall and with an endless repertoire of acts of meanness and spite. Nico had once seen him dribble spit into the evening meal of one of the younger children and smirk to himself as the food was eaten. On another occasion he had smeared the teddy bear of another child -- younger again -- with his own shit and left it under the boy's pillow to be discovered at bedtime. Of course, nothing was ever said for fear of what Alvarez might do to the `tell-tale'.
All of this was going through Nico's mind as he was dragged out of the dorm, down the corridor and into the locker room, with every step the light was shone in his face, forcing him to squint and turn his head away. He may have looked as if he was simply accepting what was happening to him but all the time he was weighing his chances of coming out on top in any physical confrontation between him and his ambushers. Somewhere between nil and zero he judged. Best to bide his time, see what, exactly, they had planned for him and then react in whatever way seemed both appropriate and possible. After all, he reminded himself, his many years' experience of surviving on the streets of the city had equipped him well for situations like the one he was in now.
Once in the locker room Alvarez ordered the two boys holding his arms to let him go. Nico dropped painfully to his knees. He was immediately pushed in the back and fell forwards, ending up sprawled on the hard, tiled floor. The bright torch light snapped off and was replaced by the harsh fluorescent ceiling lights. From his position on the floor Nico could see only two pairs of feet and the lower legs they were attached to. These must belong to two of the youngest boys, he decided, as they were completely smooth and hairless. Not the teenage Alvarez or any of his principal henchmen, then. That must mean that every one of the occupants of the dorm was involved. The others must all be behind him. He didn't have to wait long to find out.
"Turn him over," came the order, and two, maybe three pairs of hands were immediately heaving him roughly onto his back, leaving him lying with his hands and arms pinned uncomfortably underneath him and, with his boxers now around his ankles, leaving him effectively naked and completely vulnerable.
He looked up and turned his head from left to right. Lined up on either side of him were all seven of the other boys from his dorm, each of them, from the two youngest whose names Nico could never remember, up to the self-appointed leader Alvarez, wearing only sleep shorts or boxers. Well, almost. In addition to the shorts, each boy had a thin strip of dark coloured, two-holed fabric tied around his eyes. Like pathetic, cut-down imitations of Zorro, the famous Mexican hero thought Nico who almost made the mistake of laughing out loud at such a ridiculous sight. He stopped himself just in time to prevent the response such a reaction was bound to have provoked. Instead he lay still, looking up and slightly to his right where Alvarez was standing, staring down at him.
"Not so special now, eh?" sneered the older boy. "Thought you were the great El Silencioso, didn't you? No chance. More like El Patetico." He laughed, looking menacingly around at the other boys who quickly joined in. The sound of not-entirely-genuine laughter bounced harshly off the tiled walls and floor where Nico lay.
"Think you're too good for the rest of us, do you? No, I don't think so." Alvarez paused to allow his mouth to fill with saliva which he then formed into a ball and allowed to fall. It would have hit Nico directly between the eyes if he hadn't seen it in time and moved his head to one side.
"Think you're better than us?" Alvarez nodded to Rocco and Bernard who stepped forward and each placed a foot firmly on one of Nico's shoulders. The message was clear. "We'll see about that." Again a pause and again a bomb of spit fell from Alvarez' lips. Nico stayed still and tried not to flinch as the missile hit him squarely on his left cheek.
"Think you're too good to join in a game of football?" Again a nod, this time to the pint-sized Enrique, who instantly hawked up a large gobbet of mucus which he very expertly fired directly at Nico's face, hitting him just below his mouth. This time he couldn't quite control the instinct to flinch as it began to drip down his chin. His reward was a second direct hit.
"Too good to jerk-off with the big boys? Well, that's no surprise, not with such a pathetic little dick. And you call those balls?" he asked derisively. "Even Isidore has a bigger pair and he's only eight."
`Oh yes, Isidore,' remembered Nico as he looked round to see one of the two youngest boys break into a grin and begin to rub the front of his dino-patterned shorts. But the young boy wasn't allowed the limelight for long and it was just a few seconds before Alvarez was speaking again.
"And think you're so special that you never shower with the rest of us?" Nico could have replied by pointing out the obvious, that he was always awake and out of bed way earlier than anyone else in the dorm so, of course, he showered alone every morning. But he knew to save his breath and, hopefully, save himself from being bombarded again. As he soon discovered, he wasn't going to be so lucky.
"Okay men." Alvarez again. Men! It seemed that no-one else was going to speak. Or maybe they weren't allowed. Or that they didn't dare. "Time to give El Gran Hombre a shower he'll never forget." Alvarez slipped one hand down and under the waistband of his shorts, expertly flipping it under his balls and grabbing hold of an impressively thick, near-adult-sized five-inch flaccid dick and pointing it directly at Nico's horizontal body. Six other hands copied so that, within seconds, six other dicks, of various stages of growth and development, were being pointed at him by six other hands.
"Let him have it!"
The wetting that Nico endured didn't last long, maybe half a minute, but there was no part of him that wasn't soaked and stinking of piss at the end of those humiliating thirty seconds -- his hair, his torso, his junk, his face, his ... everything. Human piss is warm as it leaves a boy's body but it doesn't stay that way for long. Nico lay in a pool of rapidly-cooling yellow liquid, desperately trying to make sure that no more went in his mouth or up his nose. More than enough had already gone there. Alvarez had made sure of that with his careful aim and, clearly, very full bladder.
As the last drips were being shaken off, Alvarez looked at the others boys and, with a turn of his head in the direction of the door, dismissed them back to the dorm. Almost in unison the five boys returned their dicks back into their shorts and left the room. Nico watched them go. Since accepting that he was in a no-win' situation, when he'd seen that all the other boys from the dorm were involved in his ambush, he'd been trying to do something that he'd become expert at during his years on the streets, the years of being a dump for any low-life with enough pesos to make it worth his while. He'd been using his mind to take him away from the cold and unforgiving floor of the shower room and out into the yard behind the kitchens, out to the one place he could just be', the place where he had no past and no future, the place where he could let go and allow himself to become a machine for repeatedly kicking a thoughtless ball against an unquestioning wall. But seeing Alvarez' six side-kicks exit the room, leaving him alone with only the torturer-in-chief for company, brought Nico back to the hard floor at lightning speed.
"Just you and me now," Alvarez announced menacingly. "You, piss-soaked and pathetic, cut down to your proper size and, if you've any sense at all, knowing exactly where you figure in the order of things. Right at the bottom."
Nico watched and listened, conscious, with half his attention, that his back ached and that his arms and shoulders were more or less completely numb and that, no matter what was about to happen, there was absolutely fuck-all he could do about it. Alvarez was the one in control. All Nico could do was accept.
For the first time since they'd entered the room Alvarez moved. He took two paces towards Nico and came to a stop astride his victim, one foot on either side of his naked chest. It was then that Nico realised that Alvarez still had his shorts hooked beneath his balls, his hand gently stroking his expanding dick.
"I've heard that you're a good fuck, or, at least, a willing one. But only for cash. Well, even if I had any money, I wouldn't waste it on a creeping low-life like you. And there's no way I'm gonna actually put my hands on such a stinking pile of piss."
Alvarez' dick was getting thicker and longer.
"Then I thought, maybe your pretty-boy face deserved a good fucking, and that I was the man to do it. But then, no. There's no knowing what's been in that hole before, what filthy germs and diseases are hiding in that wordless mouth of yours, just waiting to infect every other sad case, desperate enough to poke his dick in there."
Both of Alvarez' hands were now focused between his legs, one stroking up and down his dick with increasing urgency and the other massaging his balls which, Nico now noticed, were easily adult-sized. So, if he wasn't going to fuck him in either his butt or his mouth, what was he going to do? Nico didn't have to wait long for an answer. The dick-stroking suddenly became much more determined and, from his position almost directly underneath the swinging balls, Nico saw the pre-cum forming at the tip and being spread over the purple head with every downward stroke. Alvarez' breathing became louder and then more ragged and his right knee began to shake. With his worm's-eye view, the next thing Nico saw was the impressive ball-sac begin to contract and draw upwards, a sure sign of what was about to happen. He had no idea of the number of times he had witnessed a set of balls give up their load -- probably hundreds - but never before had he been in a situation anything like the one he was in now. All he could do was lay there and wait.
Alvarez began to groan, his hand flew up and down in a frenzy and his back arched. Then, at the moment when he knew he was about to let go he lifted one foot and stamped it down hard on Nico's balls.
"Now you know who's got the grandes cojones. And don't you ever forget it."
Nico couldn't help himself. He opened his mouth and screamed with pain. Cum spattered down, into his mouth, into his hair, into his eyes. He would have spat it out but it was at that moment that the kicking began.
He didn't know how long he'd been out of it, maybe an hour, maybe just a few seconds. What he did know was that his body, now lying face down again, felt as if it was on fire. With every breath a piercing pain shot deep into his chest and his balls throbbed, but not in a good way. He tried moving his shoulders but instantly regretted it and when he moved his tongue around inside his mouth he discovered it was full of an obnoxious mixture of blood, cum, piss and spit. And he stank.
As far as he could tell he was alone. The lights had been switched off and there was no sound other than his own laboured breathing and the drip, drip, dripping of one of the shower heads. He risked lifting his head. Fuck! That hurt. He tried again, only more slowly and carefully this time. His field of vision was blurred and pretty limited but it confirmed what he had been hoping -- that there was no-one else in the room with him.
Trying to ignore the pain in his balls and his shoulders, he managed to move his arms just enough to release them from the grip of his sodden T. What a relief. He could move them for the first time in, what, an hour? Two? In truth he had no idea how long it had been since he'd been dragged from his bed but, from looking up at the row of windows above his head, he could see that it was still night. He tried using his arms to push his upper body off the floor but the mixture of numbness and pain soon convinced him that it was not a good idea. But he knew he had to move. Alvarez or, more likely, one of his side-kicks, could come back at any moment and there was no way he could tolerate a second round of punishment. He needed to get out but he also needed to wash the piss and the blood and the cum from his aching body. With a burst of effort and energy that would have made a super-hero proud Nico managed to roll himself onto his back and then into a sitting position. Ignoring the pain shooting out from between his legs he started to push himself backwards towards the benches that lined the walls. Every muscle screamed and every instinct begged him to stop. No chance. He was going to get up, get clean and get out. Maybe later he'd get even but for now that was not his top priority.
Once he'd managed to get himself up onto the bench his next goal was a shower. He took a breath as deep as he could bear before heaving himself into a more-or-less standing position. Five, six steps was what he estimated it would take to get from the bench to the nearest shower head. In reality there were no steps, just a pathetic, agonizing shuffle. But it did the job and eventually he was leaning with his back against the cold, hard wall with soft, warm water flowing down over his bruised and battered body. The water felt wonderful and he soon started to react to its gentle massage. Completely spontaneously his knees began to bend and he started to slide downwards but he quickly put a stop to that. If he allowed himself to end up back on the floor he knew there was no guarantee he'd have the strength or the will to get back up again. He turned and lifted his face to the spray, filling his mouth and then swilling it out, finally washing away the last of his own blood and Alvarez' cum. He started to feel clean again, at least on the outside.
Shutting off the water, Nico concentrated on getting out of the showers by slowly and deliberately placing one foot in front of the other, just like a drunk trying to convince a police officer that he was sober. He knew there was no way he was going to dress again in his piss-soaked shorts and T and, equally obviously, he wasn't going to go walking the streets of the city stark naked, even in the dead of night. But there were always lost or abandoned items of clothing left behind in the locker room and it wasn't long before he'd found a discarded sweater to dry himself with, an only slightly-too-small pair of football shorts and a long-sleeved T that would have looked okay on a big-built adult. But Nico wasn't in a position to be picky so he carefully dried and painfully dressed himself, then started looking around for something to wear on his feet. After a couple of minutes with no luck he decided he couldn't afford to waste any more time. He had to get out of there and put as much distance as possible between him and Our Lady of Flowers before it was properly light and anyone reported him missing. There were already the first signs of night turning into day coming faintly through the windows so he'd just have to go barefoot. It wouldn't be the first time.
Getting out of the building turned out to be surprisingly easy. As he crept painfully but noiselessly along the main central corridor his attention was grabbed by the movement of a curtain, fluttering in the nearly-dawn breeze. If it had been hanging by an open standard window Nico doubted he'd have had the strength to climb out but, luckily, it hung beside a pair of French doors which opened onto the wide verandah at the back of the home. From there he just had to limp across the shadowed garden, through the main gate and then out onto the street.
Although there was an early-morning chill in the air the pavement was still slightly warm beneath his feet and he knew it would quickly heat up once the sun rose. But that prospect didn't bother him. He had no intention of being on the streets for long. He turned and limped off in the direction of the river. Looking around he realised just how early it must be. Apart from a team of street cleaners that he passed soon after he left the grounds of Our Lady of Flowers and an elderly woman setting up her news-stand, he saw no-one. A couple of taxis were idling outside the Palace Hotel, a place he knew from his days running errands for Miguel. A siren wailed in the distance. A few minutes later he crossed the street to avoid a couple of drunks. `Typical La Casa types,' he thought.
Thoughts of Miguel and La Casa catapulted his mind back to what had happened to him just a few short and painful hours earlier, in particular to something Alvarez had said which had been bouncing in and out of his brain ever since he had come round on the floor of the locker room.
How could he have known about Nico's past? Who had been talking about him? What, exactly, had they said? Who else knew and who had they been gabbing to? So many questions and fuck-all answers. His aching body was still making every step an effort but the nagging in his head was almost as bad. Not knowing who knew what about him, about his mum and about his past was almost worse than all the shameful, disgusting things that had happened to him, not just tonight but ever since his mum had ... If Alvarez knew about her, their life on the streets, the whoring, the drugs ... Nico knew he was a survivor, he had proved that so many times, but even for him there were limits. And if Alvarez knew then everyone else, if not now, then some time pretty soon, they would know too. And he didn't think he could live with that, not with everyone knowing everything. `Cos what sort of life would it be? How could he hope to make any sort of new start? Who would give him that chance? More, unanswerable, questions.
He'd pretty much lost track of time but not, it seemed, of direction. Without being fully aware of it his steps had brought him almost the whole length of the Avenue Irala and he was now standing on the Avenue Pedro de Mendoza overlooking the river. The pavement was edged with a continuous metal railing but it was only waist height so not difficult to climb.
Nico sat on the top bar, looking down at the water as it flowed towards the ocean just a few hundred yards away downstream. It looked so different from the place where he used to go to get clean and, sometimes, to escape from all the crap his life was full of. No, this definitely wasn't a section of the river where anyone would come to relax and have fun, but then, he wasn't anyone and he wasn't here to swim. Would his mum think this was the right thing to do? Pointless question. She had barely been able to make decisions for herself, much less anyone else, even her only son. Would his far away family ever know about him? Another pointless question. His mum had made it 100% clear that they were a bunch of shits who wouldn't want to have anything to do with him even if they knew he existed. And there was no-one else. No-one who would miss so much as a heartbeat if he wasn't around anymore. So why stay?
Nico turned his face towards the sea. The sun was rising and the city was coming to life. Out in the bay was one of those huge container ships arriving from, well, who knew where? Maybe from wherever his unknown and unknowing family lived. And somewhere over to his right another siren. He stood with his feet on the bottom rail. All he had to do now was let his mind go free, free to score the dramatic, last-minute, winning goal in the World Cup final. His mum would be proud. That would be a good ending.
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