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Night	By : kattanon Category: S through Z > The Shield Views: 1080 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Shield, 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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Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Night � Chapter 8.

Dutch groaned as he began to wake up, he tried to roll over but found his hands were stuck on something above his head and he couldn�t get them free. Sensation was returning to his body and he felt as if he�d been run over by a truck. Slowly he opened his eyes and instantly regretted it, quickly shutting them again as bright, dazzling light blinded him and seemed to stab into his brain. His stomach rolled and he felt nausea building, suddenly vomit rose up into his mouth. He turned his head to the side and was sick, he tasted the burning, bitterness of bile as his stomach tried to expel it�s contents, he could hear it splattering onto the floor. In fact as he began to dry heave he felt as if his body was trying to expel most of his major organs, or at the very least turn itself inside out. When he finally finished he felt weak and shaky absolutely exhausted, a strange lethargy settled into his limbs. Slowly and carefully he gradually opened his eyes frowning for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings he saw, the strange bed he was lying on. Then suddenly memory came slamming into the forefront of his mind, turning quickly his stomach began to heave again as the past two days came back to him.

When he�d been cut down earlier he�d fleetingly thought of trying to escape, trying to overpower the man who�d held a knife to his throat, but had decided it was too risky, he�d decided to bide his time and wait for a better opportunity. If he�d known what was in store for him Dutch felt pretty sure he would of willingly taken the risk and tried. Instead he�d just meekly allowed that bastard to push him along like a lamb to the slaughter. The punches he�d taken and the blow to his head had stunned him, but the moment he�d felt the table edge cutting into him as he�d been bent over it the truth that he�d been trying so hard to ignore could be denied no longer. He�d known what was coming, what he was about to suffer and that knowledge had terrified him. He�d struggled and in an attempt at bravado he�d shouted, demanded to be released, but when he�d been punched again and his legs pulled apart and secured to the table legs he�d lost it, crying, begging to be released. He�d felt like a coward, a sniveling coward but he hadn�t been able to stop himself and at the same time he�d been ashamed by his reaction, he was a man he should be stoic, brave not crying like a baby. Hell he should have been able to fight, get free, and stop this from happening to him. Then his attacker had been all over him, touching him, talking about love and care, about Dutch being at home with him, insane nonsense which frightened Dutch because it showed him the this mad man only had a tenuous grasp on reality at best. When he had felt the erection pressed against his backside every muscle in his body had clenched tight, an instinctive reaction against the violation he�d known was coming. Then that first attack, no not attack it was rape, god it was so hard to even think the word but that was the truth it was no good trying to deny it, trying to sublimate it. The pain had been overwhelming; he�d felt as if he was being split in two, ripped apart. The feel of burning agony as his body had been invaded accompanied by the feeling of his own flesh tearing, being ripped open. Above his own screams and sobs he�d had to listen to his rapist cooing in his ear, about how good it felt, how good he was, Jesus. He could remember babbling out a denial trying to convince himself that none of it was real, a dream, a nightmare instead. Then he�d felt that pig go still, gripping his hips bruisingly hard and he�d recognised the signs, he�d known that his body was about to be polluted. He�d never be able to get clean again, it was too deep inside of him and would never be able to be scrubbed away. He remembered feeling something deep down inside himself break at that point, not something physical, no it had been something deeper than that, something more important than that. The bite to his shoulder had shot a sharp pain through him that had brought him back to himself, and he�d broken down sobbing, consumed by shame and humiliation. Then he�d been left there feeling the filth running down the insides of his legs.

How long he�d stayed like that crying his face wet with tears that the now sodden blindfold could no longer absorb, he didnnow now but then he�d heard the door open again. He was back, talking to Dutch like he was his best friend, come to help him. Dutch had been so afraid he didn�t think he�d survive another encounter with this monster, and then that hand had touched him and he�d freaked out, totally lost it. It had been a relief to find the anger inside of himself, tho thought that all that was left in there was fear and pain, but there it had been burning and hot, and he�d reached out and grabbed onto it with all his strength. He�d let it consume him, overwhelming his terror; defiance coming to the fore he�d screamed at that sicko, threatened to kill him. For one moment it had felt so good, it had felt as if he was still inside of himself after all. However, it had also provoked a fury in the other man, and Dutch had paid a heavy price for that few seconds of self. firsfirst blow had elicited a surprised yelp from him, but then he�d tried to keep his cries inside, he didn�t want to give this pervert the satisfaction of hearing his pain. That resolution had lasted for about eleven blows then Dutch hadn�t been able to internalize his suffering any more. It had been a long time since he�d felt the pain from a belt. He�d forgotten that after the initial flare of pain that a more intense agony followed in the place the blow had fallen. When blows were rained down on you in rapid succession there was no time for the pain to dissipate and so your whole existence became pain, and you could no longer differentiate between the blows, it all blurred together. Eventually the blows had ceased and Dutch had heard the man behind him panting because of the exertion of the beating he�d inflicted. Dutch had known what would follow and sure enough almost immediately he�d felt that loathsome touch on his body again. He�d felt himself being positioned as if he was an inanimate object and then that burning agony again. He�d not been able to scream this time, his strength gone, his voice had been screamed out during the beating he�d suffered. He hadn�t been able to fight at all, no he�d just lain there and taken it, God how could he have done that he should of summoned some strength from somewhere, but it had been too much his body had just shut down. When he�d been finished with he�d been released from the table and had collapsed to the cold floor, unable to move, unable to separate one source of pain from another. All he�d been able to do was softly cry out his misery into the gathering darkness.

Dutch had known it was dark when he�d finally been able to stir enough to reach up and push the blindfold from his . I. It had been completely black, it was strange how you got used to light when you lived in the city, where no night was ever truly dark, but this was an all encompassing, impenetrable blanket. He�d tried to move but the pain from his injuries which moved through his body in waves in time with his heartbeat, and combined with the freezing cold, which had leeched into his bones from the stone floor he was lying on, had robbed his limbs of any ability to support his body weight. In the end he�d given up and carefully pulling his knees as close to his chest as he could he�d curled into a fetal position and had been carried away into a, thankfully dreamless, sleep.

He�d been awoken the next morning by a large, strong body pressing him into the floor and a stinging prick, like a wasp�s sting on his arm. He�d panicked, as he�d felt the warmth of the drug surging through his body, his blood warming with it. Then a rush of pleasure had overtaken him. He felt a strange feeling of euphoria as his pain and fear rapidly melted away, he heard the word morphine and knew this should bother him but somehow he no longer cared about much except this feeling of relief. It was becoming hard to focus his eyes, and a feeling of detachment from his own body began to affect him, it was as if he was floating above himself. As if from a distance he felt himself being moved onto something soft, it was bliss he sank int. t. His arms were pulled above his head and rope was looped around them, there was another person present but the drugged stupor he was in didn�t allow this fact to alarm him. From somewhere deep inside himself he heard his own voice shouting at him, screaming at him to resist, but it was so easy to turn away from that voice and embrace the warmth instead. He felt a warm wetness being wiped over him, a smell of oranges and limes, a feeling of cleanliness as he was washed. For a moment he dozed off, when he was startled awake he felt slightly more alert, but not much and he eagerly reached for the detached, floaty feeling he�d enjoyed before. As he�d reached out with his senses Dutch had encountered another familiar feeling, arousal. The gently stroking hand had felt so good he�d heard himself moan and arch up into the touch. He�d moaned again as he�d felt his penis being enveloped in a warm, wet and very skillful mouth. Dutch felt himself giving over his whole body to the pleasurable sensations coursing through him. He couldn�t stop the little cry of disappointment from escaping from him when that talented mouth had left his erection. He heard a deep laugh and a heavy body moved against him, rubbing itself against him, a hardness pressing against his stomach, as the mouth moved slowly from one nipple to another, a burning trail of pleasure left in its wake. Something wasn�t right, something was nagging at his subconscious. Dutch tried to ignore it, tried to give himself over to the pleasure, but it wouldn�t go away it worried away at the back of his mind. The warm, wet mouth had moved up his neck and was nuzzling his ear, sending bolts of desire straight to his groin. A voice speaking to him, laughing at him, he felt a hand on his erection again stroking him higher and higher. The words in his ear began to make sense; they began to permeate the whirlpool of sensation he was caught up in,

"I knew you�d enjoy it�just relax�oh yeah you want it�mmnn oh good boy that�s it."

The voice began to merge with another voice from his past; a voice he knew was coming from his memory, from his nightmares, his father. He felt himself frowning beginning to weakly struggle, trying unsuccessfully to move his hands so he could push that burning touch away from his body. He could hear his own voice now,

"No..n.. no�stop,"

However, it was too late he could feel the flush of excited pleasure begin to rise up within him as his orgasm began to rapidly build. He felt himself thrust once, twice into the hand that enveloped him and then he felt himself cumming, arching up an excitement he now knew was wrong consuming him.

Shuddering, his whole body trembling he slowly came back to himself and as he opened his eyes Dutch looked up for the first time to clearly see the face of his torturer. Grinning the man leaned towards him,

"I knew you wanted it, wanted me, you came like the slut you are," with that he rubbed his hand over Dutch�s face, he rubbed Dutch�s own cum over his face.

Dutch had frozen then, unable to respond, his guilt, his compliance smeared cold and drying over his pale face. The other man had continued to laugh, continued to taunt him as he�d spread Dutch�s legs and entered him. The morphine was still dulling his pain receptors and Dutch felt nothing except his body being rhythmically driven into the mattress below him, animal grunts of pleasure in his ear. He deserved this, this was his punishment. Although intellectually Dutch knew that the drug had lowered his defenses, it had impaired his judgement. Men who were raped often ejaculated the fear of the attack confusing the body into arousal against their will, physical stimulation leading to an involuntary and unwanted response. However, he couldn�t shut out that insidious voice that was whispering inside his head, telling him it was his fault, that he gave out the signals, that he made daddy do this. Dutch was so lost inside himself that he barely noticed the man cum inside him or the weight of him leaving his body. He was glad when he felt another sting on his arm; he gratefully gave himself up into the drugged oblivion that rushed through his veins.
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- 9
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