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“You are going to drink your drink, like a good boy, and then you’re going to have another, and another, and by then, you won’t care who’s fucking you.”
Tears sprung to his eyes. No, that wasn’t going to happen. Finding courage from somewhere, he grabbed Jack’s hand, throwing it off his thigh.
“I’m drinking nothing, and you’re going to let me leave. Right now.” Ashok stood. He was scared, but most of all, he was livid. To think he was so stupid to believe that this could have been something more. He needed to go.
“Poor pretty Ashok. Go running back to Daddy.”
His father was the last person he’d be running to, but he said nothing and stormed out of the bar, standing just outside the door to gather his composure. It was still early, at least, and there were plenty of people around. He just needed to get to his bus stop so he could go home and try to forget tonight had ever happened.
He moved away, his head down, and disappeared into the crowds. He felt a little safer knowing that Jack was back at the bar, probably drinking himself into oblivion. Hopefully, he could avoid having to see him at work again by checking the rosters. The last thing he wanted was to run into him again.
The bus stop was in sight, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Almost home where he could make himself and his mum a hot chocolate and snuggle down in his bed to catch up on the latest episode of Drag Race.
Someone jostled him from behind, and a steely grip took a hold of his wrist.
“You’re not getting away from me that easily, Daddy’s boy. I’m taking that arse, whether you like it or not.”
Jack forcibly dragged him away from the crowds into a disused alleyway, far enough in that they wouldn’t be spotted. He threw him against a wall, his head rebounding with a crack.
Fuck, that hurt. He saw stars, and his vision swam, Jack’s now ugly face blurring before his eyes.
Hard lips pressed to his, and a foul-tasting tongue invaded his mouth. He gagged, fighting the urge to throw up.
He tried desperately to push him off, but vice-like hands held him in place. He tried to bring his knee up, knowing if he could catch Jack, he might loosen his grip, giving him precious seconds to escape this torture.
Jack was stronger, though, and forced his thigh between Ashok’s, pressing hard against his cock.
“You like that, eh? Want me to do it some more?” Ashok fought, thumping and trying his hardest to push Jack away, but nothing worked.
He tried to scream, but a hand clamped over his mouth. Just how many hands did he have? It wasn’t until he looked around that he noticed Jack’s two friends standing on either side. He’d been so occupied that he’d failed to notice their arrival.
“Hold him. Let’s see what he’s got down here.” Ashok’s arms were held out to the sides, and there was nothing he could do as Jack worked to open the button and zip on his jeans.
“What the…?” Jack exclaimed as he pulled them open, kneeling in front of him. “Oh, what do we have here, boys? Seems Ashok here has a little ‘kink’.”
Ashok knew what he was referring to. He’d decided to wear a light-blue lace thong, hoping it would give him the confidence he needed to get through the night. He was regretting that decision now, hoping against hope that someone would hear the noise and come to rescue him.
Jack shoved his hand down the front and squeezed hard, eliciting a cry from Ashok, tears streaming down his face. Please let this end soon.
“I think I might have found a kink too. That’s a fucking turn-on if ever I saw it. I think you should see just how much, don’t you?” Jack stood, a wicked smile on his face as he slipped his trousers down his thighs, revealing a hard cock jutting out from his body.
He waggled it in Ashok’s direction.
“Ever suck a cock, kinky boy?” He thrust it through his hand, taking a step towards Ashok. “Someone needs to get on their knees and worship this.”
Ashok shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. The one time he let his defences down, and this was what happened. If he ever got out of this, he was never trusting another man. Ever.
He felt himself being pushed to his knees as the two men holding his arms laughed.
“Yeah, suck it, you cocksucker. Ram it down his throat, Jack. Make him puke.”
Ashok wasn’t sure how, but he managed to wrangle one arm free and lunged forward, punching Jack in the dick. A howl erupted, and he broke free, running for his life back down the alley, towards the safety of the crowd.
Before he could get to the entrance, he was tackled to the floor and dragged out of sight, the darkness swallowing him up. Rubbish and filth clung to his skin, the smell causing him to vomit. Kicks and thumps rained down on him, and he curled into a ball, trying to protect his body. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Everything hurt—every muscle, every bone, every part of him. The pain was agonising, and he wished it would end. Pain coursed up his arm as a sharp sting stole the air from his lungs.
“Jack. That’s enough. We don’t want to kill him.” For a moment it all stopped, and his injuries sang, pain racking his body.
He whimpered, waiting for it to start again, relieved when the sound of footsteps moved away.
