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Contusion

By Ros Williams
Page 2 of 11

She'll come, Avon though as he was taken into the body of the prison, she's not had enough of me yet. She'll find some excuse to visit me...and that's enough. She's a lifeline between me and that outside world I'll never forsake, no matter what. Whatever they try to do to me here, I'll never give up...

They entered a bleak room, cold and forbidding. "Strip," Jarrel said. Avon made no move.

"Strip!" Jarrel snarled, reaching out to the prisoner.

"Don't touch me," Avon said, the menace clear in his tone.

"Don't you understand?" Jarrel shouted. "You're a convict here. More...you're nothing; you're dirt. When I say 'do this', you do it, and quickly. Now, strip!"

"No," Avon said flatly. "Not for you."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Not for you," Avon repeated.

"I'll tell you something," Jarrel said harshly. "The Governor isn't the only one around here who wants..."

"You too?" Avon queried. "This is becoming monotonous."

Jarrel's face was suffused with rage. "Do as I tell you!" he flared, beside himself with fury.

"Make me," Avon murmured.

"I will, believe me! You'll wish you'd never been born."

"Unoriginal," Avon said, "And, furthermore, unlikely."

"I'll break you..."

Perhaps, Avon thought, but by heaven I'll make you suffer also. He waited quietly as Jarrel shouted for assistance and put up no resistance when the prison guards tore his clothes from him. It will be so much harder for you now, Avon though as he stood at last naked before the Sub Commandant, so very much harder to approach me... "Contempt makes a useful barrier, Jarrel," he remarked calmly, "And you look such a fool in front of your underlings, don't you?"

Jarrel lowered his eyes and stared as the papers on his desk. Such a simple trap, he thought furiously and I fell right into it. Making a pretence to read the documents, he slowly calmed himself and when at last he felt able to speak coherently, he looked at the dark eyed prisoner again. "You've been declared fit or adequately so; fit enough. I shall check you over and then you will be taken to your cell." Signalling to the two guards who had remained in the room to be wary of the prisoner, he moved forward. Keep still," he said to Avon, "Or they'll knock you out stun you. Then you won't know what is happening to you, will you?" Grinning nastily, he gazed at the lurid scars still clear on Avon's body. "They'll go in time," he said, fought to ease the agony in his centre.

"Don't play games with me, scum," Avon said.

Jarrel staggered to his feet and lurched away towards his desk. He leaned on it, panting and gestured to the guards. "Take him away," he said breathlessly. "Take him and do what you like with him. Anything on my orders so long as you do not damage his face nor render him impotent. And you," he snarled at Avon, "Oh, you'll be a little more compliant, I think, when we meet again!"

"I doubt it," Avon murmured, as he was dragged unceremoniously from the room.

*** *** *** *** ***

He was hauled into a cell and flung upon the floor. As he tried to rise to his feet, his legs were swept from under him and he fell heavily on his bruised shoulder. A gasp of pain escaped him, to be succeeded by another as he was kicked violently by brutal feet. He curled himself as much as he could, trying to escape the blows, one hand over his head while flailing with the other to try and trip one or other of his assailants. At last he succeeded and the smaller of the two men crashed down beside him. Ignoring the kicks of the other man as best he could, Avon seized the hair of the man on the ground and brought a vicious blow up into his groin. But he was still weak from his injuries and his strength was failing fast.

"Get out of the way, Krell," exclaimed the taller man and Krell struggling, dragged himself from Avon's weakening grasp.

"Give 'im one for me, Fabe," Krell shouted as Fabe fell upon Avon's back, pinning his flailing body to the ground.

"Don't worry," Fabe laughed, "I shall --- and not just one either. I m really looking forward to this..." He rolled his body forward and Avon felt with a sick revulsion the man's thickening erection, then Fabe eased himself up on to Avon's shoulders. "We'll have to tie him," he said, "I don't think we can hold this one still long enough to really enjoy ourselves, Krell."

By stages they subdued Avon and lashed him over the side of the hard, rudimentary bed, face down, with his arms and legs splayed out.

"Yeah! Come on, Fabe, let us get on with it. I'm desperate already."

"You'll have to be desperate a bit longer," Fabe said unsympathetically as he ripped open his garments and released his raging discomfort.

Avon could see Krell's face. He watched the man, both fascinated and disgusted by his eager gaze, the saliva dripped from parted, slack lips and the urgent masturbating as Krell watched his colleague's exertions. I am not a fool, Avon told himself, and all my life, I have known that this could happen to me. I am only too well aware from past, abortive experiences I have unwillingly been forced to face that there is something about me which men such as these find attractive...and I also know that resistance such as I have shown only inflames them further. Yet I cannot lie passive and let them do it, I have to fight, to assert myself, to retain my own integrity...initially, that is, or so it will seem. Grimly, Avon ignored as best he could his own sex's involuntary arousal and equally involuntary releases.

This is phase one of my plan, Avon mused, forcing his mind to think and think and plot ahead, to follow the course he had mapped out over the long, dreary days in the prison hospital. They will think they have subdued me, a little, so let us see what they will do next! Exerting all his formidable, logical will, Avon lay flaccid and unresisting as the two men worked feverishly upon him, enduring without words and with as few expressions of pain as possible their violent abuse. He waited patiently until they staggered away, and then he turned his head as far as he could and caught the eye of Fabe.

"Pathetic," Avon said contemptuously.

"What?" Fabe's face darkened. "What the hell do you mean by that? Do you want another dose, eh?"

"You aren't up to it," Avon continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm and Alpha superiority. "Is that the best you could do? Rape? That wasn't rape, it was a feeble attempt to simulate it. Surely you aren't going to stop yet, are you? Perhaps you could send someone more competent to me, someone who might, perhaps, be able to satisfy my lust?" He nearly laughed aloud at the stunned expression on Fabe's brutish face. "Don't you understand?" he continued coldly. "You are inadequate."

"Do 'im again!" Krell hissed at Fabe.

"To hell with his lust!" Fabe gritted, forced by exhaustion to avoid the issue. "I've had my fill and that's all that matters." He delivered a sharp kick on Avon's buttocks, causing Avon, in spite of all his willpower, to groan with pain, then walked to the door.

"Are you going to release him?" Krell ventured.

"He can stay like that awhile longer," Fabe snapped, his discomfiture at Avon's contempt showing through his tough exterior. "It won't hurt him to feel vulnerable for a bit longer. Come to think of it, ask around see if anyone else fancies a bout with him. Perhaps he'll come across someone he'll fancy, eh?" Digging Krell in the ribs, Fabe forced a sick grin onto his face. "You can come back later and untie him," he added. "Just in time for the delicious, five course dinner, perhaps?" He sniggered and left the cell as steadily as his legs would allow.

Krell glanced at Avon. "Serves you right, you bastard," he said, but there was just a touch of admiration in his voice and Avon noticed it immediately. So, Avon thought, this man hates the other. That's information which could be useful...

*** *** *** *** ***

"You're a bloody fool, talking to Fabe like that," Krell remarked as he talked to Avon two hours later. "If you'd kept your mouth shut, he'd have released you then and there and he probably wouldn't have sent the others in to you either."

Avon shrugged, then winced as even the slight movement caused him pain. He ached in every part of his body and his various half healed injuries were giving him hell. He had endured the ministrations of four other eager, vicious men and had finally passed out from the agony in his body. He flexed his wrists and ankles slowly, trying to release the cramps in them and then struggling to move himself into a foetal position on the bed, grimacing in disgust as he wallowed in the wet about his groin.

"What's the matter?" he asked Krell, who was still standing nearby. "Wanting another go, are you? Carry on...you're well aware I haven't the strength to resist you now, even with my arms and legs free."

On an impulse, Krell moved closer and squatted on his haunches so that his face was on a level with Avon's. He gazed almost admiringly into the fine, dark eyes and Avon saw again that spark of interest and almost sympathy. "I'll tell you something," Krell said suddenly, his voice low and confidential. "The surveillance is off at this time of night. Venn...he likes to watch what goes on in the cells and not just for the sake of security. He doesn't do a great deal, himself, because he's too damn fastidious to touch any but the superior bloody Alphas like you, but he likes to see us... Well, I don't care all that much most of the time, but now and again I think to myself, why can't we have a bit of privacy from his stuck up, prying eyes, eh? Surveillance starts at eight in the morning and goes on all day until about now. You can't be sure exactly when it'll come on and when it'll go off but one thing you can be sure of is that you aren't often going to be disturbed during the night. Venn likes his 'sleep', he does." Krell sniggered meaningfully.

"You'll be wondering why I'm telling you all this. Well, this is why. Sure, you're a rotten Alpha but you're also like me, one of the Fraternity. I've seen your record and I've heard of your family on Earth. I used to live on Earth before I was caught rifling the Prison Governor's safe and they sent me to this dump... You're one of the underground hierarchy, the clever ones. You didn't get yourself involved, I guess, or I'd have heard of you as well when I was there because I knew all about the Bosses, believe me. We don't get many of your type here. They're all political prisoners in this hole and most of them are damn fools, but you, you're different. You aren't a fool, even I can tell that and you know what's what...

"I can't help you. It's more than my life's worth to do anything that stupid. But maybe I can ease the way a little for old time's sake."

Avon smiled faintly. This could, he thought, be some devious trick and yet I have a hunch that he's genuine. He's one of those sentimental fools who regard the Gang Bosses on Earth as Lords of Creation, looks up to them and panders to their every whim. Well, I can't see what you can do for me just now, my friend, but we shall see...

Avon nodded curtly. "Help me to sit up," he commanded imperiously. The effort was agonising, even with help, but once up he felt considerably happier. "I have to go," Krell said. "I've been here long enough as it is. But you'll see me about."

*** *** *** *** ***


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