The Soul in the Cellular Chapter 11
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE SOUL IN THE CELLULAR" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
THE SOUL IN THE CELLULAR
by Andrej Koymasky © 2018
written on 3rd of February, 1995
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by MiMu
CHAPTER 11
IGNACE
IThe day after, as soon as he had some free time, Eugenio took his cellular and asked the voice to tell him about Ignace.
"Yes. I am the son of a weaver. Our family is really numerous, and my father has difficulties to manage to make both ends meet, even though my two elder brothers and I are working. I am twelve. I work as a dishwasher and scullery boy in a restaurant patronized by wealthy bourgeois. At home, we sleep in two rooms: my parents with my three sisters in one and in the other, divided in two beds, us six boys. I sleep with Robert, the oldest, who is fourteen, and with Pierre, my brother of eight. In the other bed sleeps Mathieu, who is thirteen, Noel, ten years old, and Paul who is six.
One night I wake up feeling that Robert is doing strange movements: he is masturbating. I ask him what the hell he is doing, and he explains it to me, touches me, jacks me off. I like it. For some nights, we continue that way, as soon as the other brothers are sleeping, until once he persuades me to try something different. He makes me lay on my tummy, lays on my shoulders, points his hard tool between my small buttocks, and pushes until he can put it all inside me. It is a strange but not unpleasant sensation... Then he starts moving up and down and this also doesn't bother me, eve if I don't find it so pleasurable. But he seems to like it very much, and after some nights, I start to feel some good vibrations in my body.
What on the contrary I don't like at all, is what happens to me a few months later. I have just finished to wash up in the kitchen. I am the last. I go, as every night, to see the owner to get that day's pay. The master counts the coins, is about to give them to me, but he stops. He looks at me in a strange way. Tells me to come closer. Then he tells me that I am a nice lad, that I'm growing well, that he likes me. Even if after all these are compliments, I feel ill at ease for the way he is looking at me.
He is sitting at his desk, turns with the chair towards me, pulls me between his spread legs, caresses me. But when his hand starts to finger me between my legs, I step back. He blocks me up, says that he wants to see my dick and unbuttons my breeches. I try to stop him. He insists, tells me that he knows I jerk off hiding from my father, and that he just wants to amuse himself with me. He lowers my breeches and caresses me between my legs. I am terribly embarrassed, I beg him to stop, but it is as if he doesn't hear me. He feels my little ass, rummages with his finger and pushes it inside my little hole. That vexes me and gives me too much embarrassment, so I again ask him to stop, but this is absolutely not his intention.
Little by little he undresses me, then starts to undress himself too. He forces me on my knees and pulls my face against his hard rod and tells me to suck it. I try to resist, just the idea to put my lips on that meat tube from were we piss, disgusts me, we never did that, my brother and I. He brushes his hard meat and balls all over my face, and continues to tell me that I have to lick it, to suck it. I keep my mouth stubbornly closed, until he becomes really angry, slaps my face several times with energy and tells me that I just have to obey. I start to be quite scared and in the end, I open my mouth. He warns me not to let him feel my teeth then he pushes it inside my mouth and, holding my head with both hands, makes me move it back and forth on his big rod. I have the gag reflex, and try to pull back. He slaps me again then continues to use my head and mouth to get his pleasure. I manage to suppress the gag reflex...
Then he takes me, puts me with my chest on his desk, my legs hanging down, spreads open my little buttocks and start to push with his big rod in my hole. He starts to open my hole and the pain is so strong that I scream. He plugs my mouth with his hand and continues to push his way inside me with strong stokes. The pain is really strong, I try to wriggle out, uselessly, he continues to push his tool inside me, impaling me, stretching my bowel in a very painful way. I feel completely open, defenceless, and suddenly all my vigour seems to abandon me and I just lay there, limp. He then starts to hammer inside me, emitting short pleasure groans that make me think of a pig gulping down at his trough... and I am the trough. His hands claw my small buttocks, roughly kneading them. And finally he pushes all the way inside me, and he spurts, jet after jet, inside me. Now, sated, he pulls out, dresses again and makes me dress. Then, he tells me that I better not tell anything to anybody about what 'we' did, if I don't want to lose my work...
On the contrary, as I am back home and as soon as my father is back also, I tell him everything. He listens to me, shakes his head, then tells me that we cannot afford to lose my salary, that finding another job is really impossible, that I have to be patient, to endure, because those are things that happens... and that, if my boss wants to do it again, I should better not rise objections. And that, no matter how painful it is, it is just a question of time until I get used to it...
Being disappointed, embittered, I tell that night everything to my brother Robert, he embraces and caresses me, and tells me: 'How do you think we have these two rooms for so little money? Since two years I have to do the same thing with our house lord. That's why every week it is me who has to bring him the money... and my ass.' Then he tells me that we have no other possibility but to console each other, because at least we love each other. He kisses me, caresses me and for that night we don't make love, because I am still too hurting.
After that evening I try to end my work before the others, but my boss understands my aim and gives me more work so that I am the last to finish, thus he can fuck me. I have no escape. I have to undergo my boss fucking me, and I suffer from it. There is no tenderness, no care, he just wants to use me for his pleasure. Anyway little by little the physical pain goes away. My only consolation is my brother Robert, and to know that he shares my same misfortune. This seems to quite strengthen our union. I like making love with him, anyway, because he is tender and loving.
I am fifteen, when one night, after having been used by my boss like usual, three drunk soldiers of our Dutch King grasp me, drag me in an alley and rape me. They lower my trousers, make me bend and fuck me at the same time in the ass and in the mouth, and they laugh and tell me that we Belgians are only good for that, to be fucked by Dutch. They leave me just when they hear people coming and run away, leaving me on the pavement, half naked. The people who are coming succour me. They ask me what happened. When I tell them, they take me home and ask my father to report the crime to the authorities. My father is hesitant, but these people, men of the bourgeoisie who never accepted that Belgium was united to Holland, and that our King had to be a Dutch, see a good occasion in my case to rise the public opinion, so they give my father money to convince him to go with them to report the crime.
All the newspapers report my rape.
But my father's boss is a Flemish, pro-Dutch, and he tells my father that he has to withdraw the report to the police if he doesn't want to be fired. So my father goes to the police and tells them that I invented everything, because I hate the Dutch, and withdraws the report. But the thing doesn't end here, in fact as a consequence the police arrest me for defamation and offence to the Royal Army, and I am put in prison.
The very first moment I put foot in the prison, I am at once prey of the other inmates that use me to sate their greed for sex. They just snap their fingers, and I have to kneel between their legs to satisfy them with my mouth. I try to rebel, but I am just badly beaten and they eat my food, and soon I understand that I can only comply. What, at the beginning, makes me feel more sick is that quite often I have to perform my blowjobs in front of everybody. But nobody seems to care, so I soon get used to it. This is at daytime. At night, they come to my pallet and, without saying a word, they just lower my trousers and fuck me, some quite in hurry, some other taking good part of the night to slowly enjoy my ass. You can guess, we are around thirty inmates in the same wide cell, each day at least three or four of them require my services."
"But, you were put in the same cell with adults? Not in the minor prison?" Eugenio asks, astounded.
"There is no minor prison in this time, and the cells are normally communal, for big groups of people. And my impression is that the wardens just share out the minors or youngest inmates between the different cells, just with the purpose to give vent to the older inmates' sexual urge.
When I am free again, I am seventeen. My old boss doesn't want me any more in his restaurant. I look for a work, but can't find any. At home, my father seems reluctantly to seeing me, perhaps he feels guilty. Only my brother Robert welcomes me again. Just when I am in his arms and he makes love with me, at night, I feel someway relieved; he gives me warmth, affection, tenderness. But I don't know what to do. All day long I roam around the city, hoping to find a work, of any kind. Until, one evening, while I sit on the stairs of a church after the umpteenth 'No' and don't feel like going back home, a guy approaches me. It is a bourgeois. He looks at me then asks me how much I want. I don't understand: how much do I want, for what? He explains to me in clear words: to be fucked by him. I look at him flabbergasted, but then I think that, after all, after having been used by dozens of men, it is not bad doing it for money. So I ask him how much he is willing to give me. And I accept.
He takes me to a very cheap hotel, makes me undress and for a while he turns around me, looking at my body and feeling me, until he manages to give me an erection. I'm ashamed but excited: normally I was just fucked and forgot about... Then he undresses, and I see that he already has a strong hard on. He lies on the bed and asks me to lick and kiss his body. I obey. He continues to touch me to keep me aroused. Then he asks me to suck his cock and wet it well with my spit, because he wants to fuck my ass. And in fact after a while, he makes me stand on my knees, holding myself on the bed's headboard with both hands, kneels between my legs, takes me at my waist and penetrates me with only one steady, determined, long and slow push. Then, when he is completely inside me, he holds me on my chest and tummy with both his arms, and waving back and forward his groin, he starts to fuck me. Meanwhile he brushes my nipples and genitals and nibs at my neck and shoulders. It is not at all unpleasant. He fucks me for a long while, until he squeezes me strongly and pushes himself the deepest he can, and with a set of short but strong strokes, he unloads inside me. He remains still for a while, slightly panting, then very slowly slips out of me. He makes me sit on the bed, crouches between my legs and tells me that he wants to drink my milk! So he starts to suck me, until I give him all my sperm that he greedily swallows. Then, with a sated expression, he tells me to dress again. He pays me and we leave the hotel, and part without a word.
So, I start my career as a prostitute. I discover where are the place are where the customers looks for boys like me, and I align my price level with that of the other boys. At home I say I have found a work as a scullery boy in a restaurant very far from home, so I can also justify the fact that I come back home at the small hours. I don't even have the courage to tell the truth to Robert, I am too ashamed. In fact I think that having sex being forced, and having sex for money is not the same thing.
I don't bring home all the money I earn, I cannot, in fact no scullery boy could earn so much money. So I hide part of it. I want to save enough money to leave the town. I dream of a better future, far from there. Possibly in England.
I am nineteen and half when I can realize my dream: I board a ship and leave for England. It is all but easy! I undervalued the problem of language. Not speaking English I can't find a work and my savings rapidly finish. So I start again to prostitute myself, you don't need to speak for that. I survive, start again to save some money and, more important, I learn English.
I am twenty-one years old when I decide to move to Bristol, a town that is flourishing as an industrial centre. But here it is also not easy to find a job. Until one day when, speaking with the young owner of a manufacture, from the way he is looking at me, I understand that he is attracted to me. In the meantime I learned to recognize the lust which sparkled in the eyes of my clients when we were haggling about the price. So, when he tells me that he has no use for non-specialized workers, I tell him that I am ready to do anything, just to get a work. He doesn't wait for any more words: he tells me that if I really am ready to please him, perhaps he can give me some work. I tell him I'm ready to please him as he better likes. He decides to immediately test me. He locks his office door with the key, asks me to what extent I'm ready to do really anything and feels with his hand between my legs.
I let him do it. He opens my trousers, lowers them, makes me bend on his desk and takes me with such ardour that at each of his strokes the table moves. I want to be hired at any price, so I do my best to give him pleasure: I make my hole throb, and emit low, fake pleasure moans, knowing that this can arouse him even more, I push myself against his groin to meet his pushes, I slightly waver my pelvis. He asks me if I like being fucked by him, and I answer that he is a real man, that I love how he fucks me. He mounts me at full gallop now, and in a short while he gets a very strong orgasm. When I can stand again, I see in his eyes that he is really satisfied. In fact he hires me. But not for the factory, instead as a servant in his house. He assigns me a small room, not in the garret like the other servants of the family, but behind the laundry room. And he comes to visit me quite often: each time he wants to give vent to his lust.
Anyway I have a work, the family is big, there is a lot to do in that house. The father, him and his two brothers, older than him, are the owners of the manufactory and the family is more than wealthy. Altogether we are eleven servants living in that house, included Ryan, the seventeen years old son of the butler and the cook. I understand he is attracted to me, and I manage to bring him to confess me that he likes men, and me in particular. So we start to make love when we can withdraw without raising any suspect. I am his first man, so I have to teach him everything, but he is eager to learn. And sex between us is good, it is very similar to what I had with my brother Robert, just much more varied. When we make love we exchange lot of tenderness and affection and it is good to be in each others arms. We normally start our secret encounters embracing, kissing caressing each other and we slowly undress each other. Then we suck each other with real passion for a while, until he asks me, he begs me to fuck him... I like it very much to take him, and I don't want to penetrate him from the back but from his front, because I like looking at his smiling face while I move inside him... He always gives me splendid orgasms and he too comes while I'm coming inside him... It is really good sex."
"Were you in love?" Eugenio asked.
"Not really in love, but we were really well together. In some way he needed me and I needed him. Possibly, if our relationship could continue, we could also have fallen in love with each other. But, after not even one year that I've lived in that house, the young master and I are caught by his father, who first whips me with anger, then chases me from his home on the spot, because I corrupted his son! Just be aware that his son is five years older than me!
At this point I am twenty-two years old, and even if I try again to prostitute myself, I can't find enough clients. It is going from bad to worst. I start to pilfer and I'm lucky, I never get caught. I also start to beg and I sleep wherever I can. This life continues for six years, in a more and more bad state, so that I show almost ten years more than my age. And I am twenty-eight when, after two weeks of strong fever, I die for starvation under a bridge, lonely, feeling an immense pain all over my body. It is 1838, we are on the climax of the industrial revolution. Well I prefer the barbarian epoch, believe me..."
Eugenio kept silent for a while. Then, thoughtfully he said: "It is an horrible story..."
"Do you think that such things don't happen any more? Here in Europe? I whish it would be like that, but sincerely I don't believe it. Yes, there is more equality, more justice, more laws to protect the weak, but..."
"I preferred the stories you were telling me before..."
"I don't doubt that. Well, the next one I am going to tell you will be different, I promise you."
"Yes.. it will be better. I still have time, why don't you tell me now something more pleasurable?"
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 12
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