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Ravaged	By : highlandgirl Category: G through L > Highlander Views: 2655 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Ravaged

by

Frances Rolfe

Rating: NC-17, Slash, m/m, bond, fist, tort, humil, N/C

Summary: Duncan's nightmares take definite form and bring back painful, suppressed experiences by one of Methos' playful antics.

Key: ****** Scene change,
Italics thoughts, *** Flashback

Disclaimer: Highlander and its characters are property of Panzer/Davis. I do not receive any monetary recompense this story.

Warning: This chapter contains violent torture and forced sex. If this is not to your taste, please do not read any further.

Chapter 3

Of Bliss and Brutality

Duncan's awareness slowly began to seep into his subconscious as a bright light pierced through his closed eyelids. He cracked an eye open, only to be blinded by a brilliant afternoon sun. The rumpled Scot turned over onto his ach ach and slammed his pillow over his head. His brain was fuzzy and his well-developed muscles curiously sluggish. "What time is it?" he mumbled as the top sheet slid off his nude body and onto the floor.

'Whack!'

Duncan's bare bottom was sharply slapped causing the Scot to grope a fumbling hand back to rub his injured anatomy.

"It's four o'clock in the afternoon and time for younglings like you to be up and about," a cheerful voice informed him.

MacLeod mo, "G, "Go away, Methos. Haven't you done enough to me?" He drew his right knee into a bent position, rolling his body to the left. Facing away from the eldest Immortal, the Highlander flopped his right arm across his face.

"Too many Mauna Loas last night," Methos observed. Slipping up to the bed, the slender man traced his forefinger down the Scot's broad golden-hued back. The provocative digit followed an unseen line from the midpoint of Duncan's shoulders down to his waist and further onto the Scot's fissure that divided the two firm mounds of buttocks. He dipped his long, pointer finger into the crevice and gently poked until it rested on the circular entrance he sought.

MacLeisibisibly shuddered and pushed himself onto his elbows. However, before he could move further, Methos shoved him back onto the bed and instructed, "Not this time, youngling. I'm in control."

Duncan twisted his face around to see Methos' hazel eyes shining with mischief. "Adam?" Mac hesitantly began, his chocolate brown eyes dilating from his trepidation.

At first, Methos' open gaze absorbed the Scot's tense shoulders and wrinkled forehead. Then he saw the Highlander's tightly clenched teeth. The ancient frowned and sat beside the prone Immortal and gently touched his shoulder. "Duncan? Are you all right," he softly asked. "I won't hurt you," he reassured the obviously shaken Immortal.

MacLeod abruptly stood and almost fled to the window. He stared into open space for long silent moments. The five thousand year old Immortal didn't say anything. He proceeded to gather up the forgotten bed sheet and walk up behind him, wordlessly draping the maroon percale fabric around his shoulders and nude form.

Duncan remained impassive, his sightless vision observing an invisible image through the loft's glass window. Methos glided his hands through Duncan's dark brown, wavy hair in long soothing strokes. He then slowly shifted his nimble fingers onto MacLeod's shoulders, massaging and kneading the younger Immortal's rigid neck and back.

Mac's mind, meanwhile, had catapulted itself back to the seventeenth century.

* * *

The cell was the size of a large closet. The odoriferous space was windowless and reeked of urine, body sweat and feces. A scattering of moldy hay covered the dirt floor. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was spending his seventy-fifth birthday lying on a stone slab instead of a bed. His wrists were shackled to two iron rings situated on either side of the wall just above his head.

The tall Scot's long muscular legs were spread apart and anchored in place by a pair of iron rings embedded into the stone. The Highlander's waist length brown hair was matted and filthy and clung to his perspiration soaked body. As consciousness once again returned to the young Immortal, Duncan shivered in the cold, clammy air. He had long since been divested of his clo. Ma. MacLeod's bare chest, hips and groin grated against the roughly textured masonry. At first the Scot's memory was hazy, but shortly it came racing back with crystal clarity.

MacLeod had been drinking in a pub near the wharf of a tiny English waterfront town. He'd jumped a slave ship, bound for the Indies and Americas, the night before. Two local toughs, looking for a fight, taunted him about his kilt and long hair. MacLeod had been well into his cups by that time and an all out brawl erupted. It was broken up by three local sheriff's deputies. The last thing MacLeod remembered was the butt end of a stout club crashing onto his thick skull.

MacLeod shuddered as his mind relived the guards raping him. All three of them had violated his body in ways he'd never known existed. The men kept pleasuring themselves on the young Highland lad until he lay bleeding and inertthe the filthy cell floor, covered in dried blood and semen.

Duncan hadn't yet figured out why these men were doing all of this to him. Unless of course it was because he had been a crew member on the slaver. The three men took delight in seeing how much pain could be inflicted upon the handsome Scot. They would then make bets as to how long it would take the Immortal's body to rejuvenate itself.

After the guards' last session, however, he had awakened to him himself anchored to the stone cot or torture table. He'd yet determined just which one it was.
Probably both, he grimly thought.

A groan escaped his swollen, crusty, dry lips as he felt something nibbling on his scrotum. The Immortal feebly twitched his body to chase off the rodent that was feasting on his most vulnerable part.

Duncan cursed loudly when the invader, instead of being frightened off, just bit the man's twin sacks that much harder. A spasm of blinding pain exploded throughout the Scot's battered, naked body.

Unfortunately, the noise only served to alert one of his jailers that he was awake and prepared for more of their amusement. A hulking giant of a man, well over six feet, five inches tall peered through the tiny cell window. He laughed and taunted, "I see you're feeding one of our house pets. Maybe I'll come and join him."

MacLeod tightly closed his eyes and turned his head toward the wall. The sound of the iron key grinding open the aging lock and the heavy door being shoved open reverberated in the Immortal's ears.

The jailer lumbered over to the helpless Scot and brushed aside the feasting rat. His booming voice bellowed out his mocking laughter as his meaty hand yanked the Highlander's testicles. He then grabbed a fistful of Duncan's hair and jerked his prisoner's head back. The young Immortal's brown eyes met his jailer's steel blue ones. The giant's graveled laughter filled the tiny cell as he drug his claw-like hand down MacLeod's bare torso. John thrust his begrimed fingers into the skin folds just above Duncan's rectum. The huge deputy smiled a toothless grin as he poked all five of his large fingers into MacLeod's tight opening. Duncan's body spasmed against the abrupt catastrophic pain. Despite the Scot's efforts to remain stoic, a sob escaped his tightly pressed lips. Much to the Immortal's chagrin, his kidneys involuntarily spurted urine all over his body. The warm, straw colored fluid leaked over the sides of the bed. John laughed as Duncan's face flushed a bright crimson.

"John!" a high pitched, nasal voice called from the open door. "Sheriff's comin'. Leave some for him."

John released his prisoner's hair as he jerked his blood stained hand from Duncan's rectum. The guard slapped each of the Highlander's buttocks two blistering stings before lumbering back to the door.

The former chieftain's son rested his throbbing head against the frigid stone. He vainly attempted to open and close his hands. The iron imprisoning his wrists and ankles, however, brooked no movement. MacLeod's pain-fogged brain could not begin to think of an escape from the hell in which he now found himself.

After what seemed too short an interval of time, Duncan's senses and stomach were violently assaulted by the dizziness and nausea heralding the approach of another Immortal. MacLeod twisted his neck to see a man in his middle forties, of average height and light blond hair enter the room. He was soon followed by the three guards, John, Patrick and another nondescript thug named Timothy. The four men's eyes glittered with anticipation of the fun they would have with their newest prisoner.

The young Scot couldn't suppress the harsh tremor of fear that rocked his nude, beleaguered body.

"Well, well, youngling. You are finally awake and my men have prepared you well," the Immortal sheriff gloated. "You are entirely under my control. I suggest you cooperate with me."

Duncan felt his feathery light fingers flutter over his shoulders and back. The lawman's beguiling caresses explored underneath the Highlander's arms, whispering over his breasts. They slid from the center of the prisoner's waist down to the topmost point of his shapely buttocks. They slowly slid the entire length between Duncan's dimpled cheeks, not stopping until the man's fingers dipped gently into the Scot's already abused anus. The blond continued to trail his hands leisurely over Duncan's thighs, stopping briefly to cup the tender areas directly behind his knees.

Gradually, the sheriff worked his seductive hands along MacLeod's legs to his ankles and finally his feet. The older Immortal even pressed gently in between each of the Scot's toes. It was as though the man were checking a horse or a piece of meat for its strength and endurance. After all of Duncan's posterior anatomy had been examined, the sheriff ordered his men to reposition the Highlander onto his back.

The three jailers opened the heavy locks securing the irons on MacLeod's ankles and wrists. They flipped him over and again reclamped his extremities to the rungs. Duncan's chest and stomach lay open and exposed, as did his groin and outspread legs.

John leaned over and thumped Duncan's flaccid penis and laughed. "Can you make that wake up, Master?" he sniggered to the sheriff.

The Immortal's greenish-brown eyes and thin lips smiled a tight grin. He thenetchetched his exploring hands onto the Scot's face. His light fingertips caressed Duncan's neck, shoulders and down the center of his chest to his navel. His tormentor's probing hand retraced its path to circle each of the Highlander's breasts. The sheriff rubbed and pinched the tiny nubs until they were taut and protruding. Lemuel, as his cohorts called him, moved his possessive hands and probing eyes to the Scot's abdomen. He paused to fondle even the smallest depression and curve of the Highlander's almost perfectly proportioned body. He feathered light strokes through Duncan's pubic hair, stopping to twist the soft curls around his fingers. Then, Lemuel bent over and closed succulent lips over the top portion of MacLeod's penis, dipping his tongue into the opening and trailing around its tip several rotations.

He lifted the Highlander's two heavy sacs. The sheriff looked up and met the Scot's vision. He returned MacLeod's questioning look with a wicked grin. He fondled first one testicle, then the othHe sHe squeezed the concealed treasures encased within the pouches of skin. Priest's soft hands then drifted beneath the hardening bulges to MacLeod's tight web of muscle. Lemuel deftly invaded it with one, then two, then three fingers. Duncan fought his body's responses to the unwanted stimuli, to no avail. It wasn't long until the eight hundred year old Immortal achieved his planned response of the Highlander's stiffening penis.

Lemuel Priest pretended not to notice his captive's burgeoning tool. He continued rubbing Duncan's groin and rectal areas. His persistent, invading hands flicked across the handsome man's hardening shaft. Soon, MacLeod's soft moans were audible to all four men.

John looked at his master, who merely nodded. The giant lumbered out of the room. He soon returned with a single strip of rawhide, a foot long, tubular shaped piece of hard leather and two sets of chains, one of which had clamps on each end.

John handed the sheriff the rawhide. Priest bent over and enclosed his soft, moist lips and mouth over the Scot's erection. When the youngster's rod was fully engorged, the jailer slipped the leather around its base and tightened it. Thus, Duncan's restricted organ was not only unable to eject its semen, but it was forced to remain in its prominent, painful upright position.

Lemuel was next given a short chain with clamps. Priest squeezed the tissue, or skin, around Duncan's left breast. Once the tip was prominently displayed, he lowered his mouth onto it and began to suck and tease it. When the nipple was hardened and jutting out, the jailer fittne one of the clamps around it.

Duncan's eyes widened in horror as the other Immortal then moved to his right side and repeated the procedure. Warm tears of frustration, pain and humiliation filled the young Highlander's eyes and streadowndown his face.

When Lemuel finished securing both clamps, he jerked on the chain. The distraught Immortal cried out. Priest smiled that same evil grin and commented, "We have to make sure your tits stay ready for us, youngling."

The blond sheriff attached the second chain around the center of the one connecting Duncan's breasts. He then pulled it taut and fastened it onto the rawhide strap that bound the boy's penis. For the moment, the older man laid the remaining portion of chain onto MacLeod's trembling stomach.

Priest surveyed his work thus far and reach down between Duncan's outstretched legs. He instructed Patrick and Timothy to lift the prisoner's buttocks up from the stone slab.

With the two jailers blocking his view, MacLeod was unable to see what Priest was doing. He could only feel the men firmly anchoring his hips. Their master lifted the Scot's scrotum up from the tight opening. The Highlander's rectum was still aching from the first guard's earlier abuse.

All at once, Duncan felt a tremendous pressure against his ass. An object at least the size of an elongated gourd was suddenly rammed into his anal opening. MacLeod screamed and bucked his hips as his entire lower body felt as if it were on fire. The cylinder was advanced until only its tip was visible to the men. Priest reached his hand through the open-ended instrument and felt the boy's intestines beyond its furthest edge.

Duncan loudly sobbed as he futilely struggled against his captors. The older Immortal's henchmen continued to hold him down, however, as Priest fastened the lower portion of chain onto a hook fixed into the side of the cylinder.

Once everything was secure, Patrick and Timothy released their hold on the helpless man. Lemuel pulled on the chains that bound Duncan's breasts to his penis and dilated anus. If one chain was yanked, it caused the other two end be be pulled as well. Duncan would thus be controlled by both the pain and restriction of movement to his most vulnerable organs.

Tears of throbbing pain and mental anguish streamed from the young Immortal's eyes. Lemuel leaned over and kissed each side of MacLeod's moisture-streaked face.

"No...don't," Duncan tried to say but his words were smothered by the sheriff's lips and mouth.

The older Immortal shoved his tongue deep into his captive's orifice, captured and laved every portion of Duncan's sensual mouth. After satisfying himself, Lemuel replaced his tongue with his cock. Shoving his organ deep within the Highlander's sensitive mouth, he stimulated himself until he ejaculated his fluid. However, Priest held the youngster's lips, forcing Duncan was to swallow the thick fluid.

Priest stood up and dusted off his hands. He nodded to his men, who removed the Highlander's shackles. The giant wrenched MacLeod's arms behind him and pushed the stumbling, weakened Scot into a shuffling gait out the jail door and down the hall.

Duncan was taken to a bathing room. Here the three watchdogs soaped the Highlander's exhausted body. Using their callused hands, John, Patrick and Timothy scrubbed and fondled the young Immortal's every crack and crevice. Duncan's long heavy mane of hair was also lathered with the harsh lye soap. MacLeod stood trembling in the center of his guards as John sluiced him with a bucket of cold water. Duncan gasped from the shock of the frigid water on his heated skin. Goosebumps pimpled his exquisite naked form. John laughed as he upended yet another pail of water over the prisoner's hair. Patrick and Timothy wiped him dry with heavy cloths and combed his hair with their fingers.

MacLeod's proud head hung in shame and degradation.
Why doesn't Priest just take my head? he thought to himself.
Why prolong my agony?

Lemuel Priest walked to the door of the wash room. Seeing that his men were finished with the Immortal, he reached over and jerked Duncan's nipple chains, drawing the Scot close to him. MacLeod winced as the sharp points bit into the tender flesh of his chest, cock and ass.

Priest chuckled. "Come, come, youngling. The fun hasn't even begun." The older Immortal probed his finger into Duncan's navel and caressed the Scot's tight abdomen until he reached lad'lad's throbbing member. The Sheriff inserted his fingernail into the slit and twisted around and around, causing Duncan's shaft to drip with pre-cum. The man looked at Duncan's privates and then into the Highlander's flushed face and laughed. "Youngling, my guests will enjoy you. They'll line my pockets with lots of money before this night's through."

With that, he led the small procession down a dim corridor into a brilliantly lit room. Men and women wearing hoods and masks leered with rabid fascination at the tall handsome naked man.

John shoved Duncan to the center of the room. A contraption was rigged in the center of it. Four stakes had been strategically placed in a semicircle. A leather sling swung from a rope dangling from the room's ceiling. John lifted the Highlander up until his upper back was resting in the sling. He then looped smaller slings around the Immortal's shoulders.

As Timothy tightened the rig drawing the Scot up off the floor, the Highlander's chest protruded, affording its easy access to the visitors. Patrick spread Duncan's legs wide and secured each one to a post. When the guards were finished, Duncan was lying in an almost supine position, the difference being that he was suspended a foot off the ground in midair. As a final check, Lemuel approached the human offering and tightened the chains securing the Scot's private parts. Duncan couldn't repress his moan.

A tall woman with blonde hair and wearing a black mask walked to MacLeod. She pushed aside the Highlander's hair until she could see his face.

With a flick of her wrist, Patrick came up behind MacLeod and tied his hair back with a leather thong.

The woman caressed the captive's cheek and leaned in totureture his swollen mouth. She sucked and plunged her tongue deep into Duncan's mouth and throat, her clothing brushing his bare form. She then licked a path to first his right tit, then his left one, pausing to bite the chains with her teeth. She smiled when she succeeded in eliciting a gasp from him as the chains bit into his abused nubs. With that the blonde rubbed her body against MacLeod's hardened shaft.

The woman was soon joined by her companions. They slowly circled the Highlander, pinching him in first one vulnerable area, then another. One man grabbed Duncan's left breast in his wet, slobbering mouth. He sucked and bit the malted ted flesh until it dribbled blood. Another man took possession of MacLeod's right imprisoned nub. He suckled it as though he was nursing milk.

Reaching up between the Scot's legs, a dark-haired woman grabbed both of Duncan's testicles. She jerked hard on them as if trying to wrench them from his body, then laughed as he stifled a moaning sob.

The group continued pleing ing themselves on MacLeod's body. They took turns pinching his bottom, sucking his imprisoned penis, shoving their hands up into the hollow cylinder gaping from his rectum. One man lit a match and stuck it between MacLeod's buttocks, laughing when the burning stick blistered the Scot's flesh. The Highlander was bitten, burned, fucked and violated in the most depraved of ways. He'd never imagined any of this could happen, much less to himself.

After what seemed an eternity, the three guards lowered Duncan from his perch. Instead of ending the nightmare, however, they tied him in a prone position to a high bed that was approximately waist high. John reached between Duncan's bottom and jerked out the leather tube. He then stepped back as two other guards inserted a hose up into MacLeod's tortured rectum. Water was poured from a bucket into the Highlander. His buttocks werein pin pinched together with heavy cloth to prevent the water from exiting the Scot's body.

He then was turned onto his back with his arms and legs tied to the corners. The mattress had a hole, enabling his buttocks to protrude in midair. The guards stepped back out of the way and the male guests took turns spanking it with switches. The women took perverted pleasure in watching the sparks fly as MacLeod's Immortal body healed itself. They soon began impaling themselves on his stiff rod.

As if al thi this were not enough, the group selected fruits and vegetables from a nearby table and began stuffing the produce into Duncan's open anatomy. Before long, bananas, carrots, tomatoes and various other things filled the Highlander's rectum, penis, mouth and ears.

The men took water buckets and flushed the Highlander's body yet again, both inside and out. It was the women's turn, once more. They licked the moisture from his beleaguered body with their tongues.

MacLeod had long since numbed from the prolonged assault to his body and senses. He found himself begging to be released or mercifully beheaded. Anything to end his agony.

The blond woman, who appeared to be the leader of the group, approached MacLeod's face. She gently smoothed his perspiration soaked hair from it and kissed his cheek. "Very good, Lemuel. We like this one," she approved. "His magnificent body is fun to play with." Money changed hands with Priest bowing and thag thg the woman for her generosity.

After the last patron had finally departed, Lemuel walked over to the limp, unconscious man. He stood there long moments until the Scot had once again awakened. Priest motioned to John, Patrick and Timothy who stood nearby to unshackle and turn the Scot onto his hands and knees. Lemuel withdrew his shaft and shoved the rigid protrusion deep within Duncan's buttocks. The young Highlander could feel hea hear the slapping of his rapist's assault of his flesh.

He was yet again turned onto his back and his legs elevated. Lemuel, John, Patrick and Timothy all took their turns, until, at last, it was over, at least for a while.

The worst part of his entire ordeal was being forced to watch their every assault to his body. He was made to pay strict attention each time the men shoved their hardened members inside him. When the four men finally satiated their vile appetites, John lifted Duncan's exhausted, inert body over hiouldoulder and deposited him back in his cell.

* * *

When Duncan's vision returned tocovecover, he could barely see through the tears flooding his face and neck. Not until Methos turned him around and pulled him into a tight embrace did he belatedly realize he had been relating the vile experiences to Methos' disbelieving ears. Neither man said a word.

Methos embraced the Highlander, supporting him with his presence and concern, as he, too, weor hor his friend.

* * * * * *

--To Be Continued--
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Ravaged