Part of Roy just couldn't, absolutely wouldn't, believe it. No one could possibly want him so badly as to go through all the effort of kidnapping him—not for the purpose of rape. To kill yes. Hold hostage, that was a risk he accepted long ago. He'd even contemplated capture, imprisonment, and torture at the hands of an enemy military. Rape hadn't even occurred to him, not since the end of the Ishbal war.
I'm almost thirty. I'm too old. I'm too powerful. I'm too MALE. I'm too in control of my life and my destiny. There is simply NO WAY I could be raped by this skinny fourteen-year-old with large innocent eyes and a high unbroken voice—it's impossible.
There was no denying the straps holding his wrists behind his back, or the sweaty slap of flesh against the inside of his thighs, or the small sharp pains coming from his ass as his muscles spasmed around the boy's cock. It was like the longest, most uncomfortable shit he'd ever had, and it just—kept—going. How long could it go on? It had to end sometime.
Roy smelled mildew and sweat, and felt the starched sheet rub abrasively against his cheek. He concentrated on that feeling, because it distracted him, and he desperately wanted distraction. He wanted to claw his way out of the moment to somewhere else, some other time and place, but his mind kept bringing him back to the cock inside of him. Every time it drew out he hoped it would go that last inch and let him be, but it kept coming back, repeating the cycle, endlessly.
It couldn't get worse than this. He found hate boiling around his heart, hate for a kid half his age who really DAMN WELL should know better. If Roy's hands were free and he had his gloves, he'd have scorched the kid. He'd done it before during the war—he'd looked kids Al's age in the face and snapped his fingers. He'd done a lot of hateful things in Ishbal.
He couldn't take it anymore, even if it was futile, his mind demanded that he fight back somehow. Roy pushed with his knees and tried to move that extra inch, and pull him out. Just for a seconds freedom it would be worth it.
Roy's mind went completely blank and he was utterly in the moment—no inner dialogue, no emotions, no expectations, just sensation. A fraction of a seconds worth of pressure, a snap of burn that lingered longer, then faded into an itch. Shock and surprise that held on just a bit longer than the physical act.
It was as if the pain had slid sideways, because, for a moment, the cock hadn't hurt. He still felt pressure and fullness, the unending slide, but not pain. For a moment there had been no shame attached to the act.
Then everything came back. Al had hit him again—a waif of a boy hitting Roy as if he were a small child. Roy felt utterly humiliated, not just by the action, but by his own repeated reaction. Al had punished him and he had given the boy exactly what he desired. Roy hated his body.
Roy heard a snicker and turned his head. Greed stood close by taking in his expression and reactions. Roy was not going to blush. He refused to give that creep the satisfaction of knowing just how much this whole thing was affecting him.
God, it just had to end, before Roy did something he'd really regret. He was torn between wanting to scream insults, and wanting to beg. If he did the first, Greed would rip apart his body. If he did the second, he would carve a jagged hole in his own soul. Roy didn't want to die, and he didn't want to lose what shred of dignity he had left either, but he didn't know how much longer he could just grit his teeth and take it.
Roy's hands clenched uselessly and again he tried to twist and slide out of the restraints, only to feel the leather hold him firmly and unyieldingly. "Just get it over with," he told Al.
It couldn't get worse, but it did. Al sped up and suddenly his muscles had no time to adjust between fullness and emptiness. He felt bruised. His skin was stretched and chafed. Although he concentrated on relaxing as hard as he could, he couldn't stop clenching up. It was utterly out of his control. He was tearing in a thousand tiny prickly places. Al wasn't going to stop. This was forever.
But then it did end. He heard Al's breathy groan, felt his fingers dig deep into his hips, the rhythm sped up, jerked then stopped. Then the kid slipped out. Roy just breathed, the emptiness inside of him felt as much an invasion as the cock had been before.
It was over—except it wasn't.
I'm a survivor, he told himself as Greed took up the position recently vacated by Al. I've been dark places before, darker than this. I've heard worse orders and done fouler deeds. At least with this no one is getting hurt but myself, and I'm tough. I can take it. I have no choice.
Dying wasn't an option. If he died then all of what Roy stood for was lost. He would have failed as a man in every sense of the word. He'd have let Greed win. He would have broken his word to Ed. He would have spit in the face of his own ambitions.
The desire to lash out overcame Roy and he kicked, getting nothing but air. He felt a hot line of pain on his back, and then a wetter, softer, more revolting touch. Greed chides were nothing compared to what he leveled at himself. He had to stop this. He had to be smarter than this.
If he provoked Greed into maiming him, then achieving his goals would be more difficult. And what gain would there be? Could he really provoke Greed OUT of raping him? Or would Greed just find it more exciting fuck. Would he be playing into the hands of a sadist, gaining nothing from it but hollow reassurance that he hadn't given up?
No. That wasn't an option either. As contrary as it sounded, he needed to be man enough to give in. He needed to be strong enough to let himself be weak, and he would gain control through surrender. He had to draw Greed off his guard, get on his good side, be a good whore.
It was one thing to say that to himself, but it was another to do it. Greed's hand squirmed under Roy's naked belly, lifting him up so his weight rested on his cheek and knees. Roy felt his ass tighten up in anticipation of pain, and he wasn't disappointed. His stretched muscles offered little resistance to Greed's cock, and soon he felt the man pressing deeper into him, going farther than Al had, filling him beyond capacity. All he wanted to do was bear down and push the unwanted thing out, but he was incapable of it.
Pretend, Al had whispered in his ear. He would not be giving up, simply putting on another layer of protection. He could gain power over the situation, if he could just pretend he liked it. Roy could stroke Greed's ego, and let that monster think that he was so good even rape at his hands was a pleasure.
Roy looked over at the two boys, sitting side by side on the other bed, naked, watching him with blank faces. They didn't even have the decency to turn their heads. Or maybe it was just that they were brave enough to look horror straight in the eye. They knew this game. That's what Al had been hinting at. They'd been playing this game for a long, long time. If a boy half his age could put up the act, than so could Roy.
In his own, twisted, screwed up way, Al had been trying to help. Still, Roy couldn't find a place in his heart to forgive him—not yet.
And Ed, last night it had been Ed in this position, taking it from him. Had Ed felt this? Had Ed pretended to enjoy it. No, the boy had come, a person couldn't fake that. How had Ed done it? How could anyone possibly enjoy this act
Then Roy remembered back the one time before. It hadn't been rape, but it hadn't been that enjoyable either. He'd been twenty-two, a Major and State Alchemist, and he spent his days during the Ishball war being shifted from unit to unit on almost a daily basis. He'd met up with Hughes by accident and spent most of the day following his friend's unit around the rubble.
That night Roy, Hughes and a handful of others looked for a place to hole up. They were deep in the no-man zone that was the southwest corner of the city. It had been a hellishly hot summers night, and the group of them had been exhausted and emotionally drained. Most of the civilians had abandoned the area, the only people left were snipers and stone throwers, and perversely old women. Although Ishaballens refused to use the alchemically perfected firearms that the Amestris Military used, they had no trouble making explosive traps out of gunpowder and metal shards. Finding the house, reasonably intact and unbooby-trapped had been quite a stroke of luck.
The house must have belonged to a non-believer because while raiding the place Hughes and Roy had come across several bottles of whiskey. The enlisted had taken their share and commandeered the living room. As officers, Hughes and Roy had separated themselves out, taking the marginally cooler master bedroom as their personal retreat.
Roy doffed his ridiculously impractical coat, and then followed up with his undershirt. He threw himself on the bed with unselfconscious abandon, then stretched lazily on his back, letting the night air from the window evaporate the sweat off his skin.
Hughes took a swig from the bottle and looked casually over at Roy. "Fuck," he said, "you look like Perry's wet dream."
Perry was the company slut. Some men dealt with death and destruction by growing harder, some men took drugs, Perry turned to sex, and had been spending every moment he could either propositioning or fucking anyone who would let him near. Male, female, old, young, ugly, fat. It didn't matter. He'd screw anyone. He'd top, bottom, threesome, he didn't care. He'd even take time out in the middle of a squirmish to give a blowjob. And at six foot four and two hundred and fifty pounds, some found it hard to refuse his offers.
Roy had. Repeatedly.
"I wonder what he gets out of it," said Roy, wiping the sweat off his chest with an idle hand. He hadn't meant the gesture to be alluring, but in retrospect he knew it had been.
"God, Roy," was Hughes response. "Keep doing that and you are going to find out." Hughes hit the bottle one more time.
Roy had turned over onto his side and looked at his fellow officer. "Am I turning you on," he laughed. The booze made him feel languid and comfortable and for some reason it seemed really funny that Hughes of all people was getting hot off of his sweaty, dust stained body.
"How curious are you?" asked Hughes.
Roy thought. His inhibitions were down. He liked and trusted Hughes. He'd never even kissed a man before. It seemed an interesting idea to pursue. "I could do it," he said. "What about you?"
"Yeah." Hughes took a last swig and then put the whiskey down on a table near the bed.
There was an awkward moment, both of them considering what they were doing, very aware that just outside the door were ten grunts who would be more than a little amused by the two of them getting it on. Even though they had both slept with women, and knew how that dance went, this tune was unfamiliar, and they had to fumble it out.
Hughes approached Roy, sliding onto the bed, one foot still on the floor and lowered his face over Roy's. Then just as Roy could feel the other's breath over his lips, they'd both spontaneously guffawed, and Hughes moved back a bit.
The breath alone had made all of Roy's senses come to alert. He felt his nipples hardening. Then as if fighting a repelling magnetic current they had tried again. Hughes lowered his face and this time brushed his lips against Roy's. It was so shallow as to almost be chaste and yet incredibly sensitizing at the same time.
It had been like the first time he'd kissed a girl. It had, honestly, taken his breath away.
Roy gritted his teeth and tried to ignore what Greed was doing to him. The sheets rubbed uncomfortably against his face. Greed held his hips in a brutal grip and lifted him up in time with his downward thrust. Then he switched back to shallower more rapid thrusts, changing the angle each time as if trying to find a fresh spot to bruise inside of Roy's body.
It helps if you concentrate on the idea of it feeling good Al had said.
How do I do that?
Make up a story in your head about this being some adventure, and sell it to yourself.
Suddenly Roy understood what Al meant by, Pretend . He wasn't saying that Roy should put on an act for Greed, he meant Roy should put on an act for himself.
He could pretend it was Hughes. He could give Greed what he wanted and still hold onto his integrity at the same time. It was a solution. The memory of Hughes kiss had actually stirred something of a reaction in him. He could be the whore Greed wanted with his body and still protect his own mind.
He could get Greed's confidence. Put him off guard. Make him "happy" enough to be sloppy. If Greed wanted Roy to be willing—he could pretend to do that. And he could pretend to himself at the same time that he was in someone else's arms.
"More," he whispered. It was the hardest word he'd ever spoken.
The thrusts slowed a moment. "What was that? Louder."
"Please, more." I'm not talking to Greed, this is Hughes, thought Roy. And I'm not here, I'm then. I can do this. I can sell this idea to myself.
The results were immediate and positive. Greed drew out, leaving Roy hopeful for a moment that it was over, but no, Greed was just repositioning him.
Not Greed, Hughes. Roy closed his eyes. It was Hughes' hands cupped under his ass, lifting him up pulling him close. Hughes' overeager and trembling hands that pressed him back down again.
Roy winced as he was entered, but there was no spasm this time. The cock slid in easily, farther, farther, all the way in.
"That's good. Let it feel good. Let it fill you just right."
Shut up Greed. Please. Shut up. I'm not here, I'm there. Back in that place. Back with Hughes.
Hughes kissed him again, this time Roy felt the man's lips press firmer. Roy felt the scratchiness of Hughes beard against his chin. It was strange and that was a turn on. Partly out of a desire to show off, partly because he liked it, Roy took the initiative. Roy kissed him like he would have one of his dates, drawing in his mouth, sweeping his tongue over Hughes lips and gently easing it inside, between the teeth. Roy found Hughes tongue and stoked it, prodded it. Hughes tasted like whiskey, hot and sharp.
Hughes' breath had caught, then came in faster. Roy pushed up on his elbows and rolled over, sitting up now, pushing the older man with his mouth. Directing him with ravenous kisses and grabbing his body and pulling him until Hughes was seated on the bed.
Then they broke for a moment, and each withdrew to remove his own clothes.
Greed's pajama shirt brushed against Roy's nipples. That was wrong and it irritated Roy. It was hard to keep up the fantasy when elements like this didn't mesh. Still for the most part this was working. Roy's cock was firm now in Greed's hands. The monster had lubed him up and was now pumping his erection, and it did feel good. Not Greed's hands, Roy corrected, Hughes.
Roy used his thighs to raise and lower himself on the other's cock. It didn't hurt anymore. It felt good. It stroked and rubbed him on the inside, awaking nerves he had forgotten he had. Roy kept his eyes closed and rode at a slow but steady pace.
Hughes had sat on the edge of the bed with Roy in his lap. Roy didn't know how they had come to decide that Roy would be the one taking it. It just somehow happened. One minute Roy was kissing him, the next he felt the man's erection pressing against the cleft of his butt.
"This isn't going to work," Roy said. "Don't we need lube?"
It was an awkward moment. Then Hughes looked past Roy's shoulder. "Over there, can you reach it?"
Roy looked. On the table next to the bottle of liquor was a glass jar with a fancy label on it. Hand cream. Scented. "My ass is going to smell like beautiful women," said Roy.
Hughes had laughed. Roy was able to reach it, barely. He handed it to Hughes, who slathered a goodly amount on his cock.
Roy bit back a hiss and rode Greed's cock harder. Oh yes, there was definitely pleasure now, and not just from the hand. The pressure inside was building towards something. It wouldn't take much longer.
It was almost the same as back then. The same pleasure mixed with pain, the same struggle to remain relaxed. God, even Greed's breath, his lips against Roy's neck was so close to what he'd felt with Hughes. He could almost hear Hughes' voice, asking him if it was still okay.
Hughes hadn't stretched him first, and Roy hadn't thought of that detail either. Sodomy was a new experience for both of them, and although Roy vaguely knew about that step, at the appropriate moment, it had fled his mind. Which is why it hurt like a fucking son of a bitch when Hughes impaled him.
Roy wasn't sure if it was masculine pride or a desire not to hurt his friend's feelings which had lead him to hide how much he wasn't enjoying being fucked. He had thought about Perry and the way the guy could ride cock all day long with a smile. If that grunt could take this and enjoy it, then damn it, Roy could, too. There had to be a trick or something.
Hughes let Roy set the pace. That helped. And when Roy discovered he could angle his hips just so and make it feel a lot better, the act turned from masochism back into the realm of normal sex.
It was mostly the novelty of the act that had brought Roy to come, and it honestly hadn't been a great orgasm. Hughes on the other hand seemed to enjoy it a great deal. It had only been after Roy got off that Hughes had realized he'd been hurt. Hughes had been upset about that, but Roy had brushed it off.
"I would have stopped you if I didn't like it," he lied. He however couldn't hide the fact he could barely walk the next day. They'd come up with the excuse that he was suffering from food poisoning and ended up spending an extra day in the house.
It was ironic, even though Roy had been willing with Hughes, being fucked then had actually been a far more uncomfortable act than being raped by Greed was now.
Roy was close. He was doing it. Hughes. This was the second fuck that Hughes had asked for, and never gotten. This was the make up fuck to erase the bad taste of the first. This was the fuck that should have happened but didn't. That never would happen because they had both moved on in their lives.
This was Hughes lips on his neck, Hughes hand on his cock, rubbing him in time. It was Hughes pounding him, filling him. This time it was ok. Better than ok. It was good. He was going to come now. Yes.
Roy threw back his head and let out a little cry. Then he flopped forward. The other finished just a moment after him.
Greed was talking again. Oh shut up, Greed. Shut the fuck up. I did what you wanted.
Greed wouldn't stop talking, and his voice was all wrong, the inflections, the tone, all wrong. Roy bit his lip, and his stomach tensed. The words, oh God, the words. It wasn't Hughes, it hadn't been Hughes.
Roy had just fucked a monster and had come. He'd enjoyed it. In front of witnesses no less. Was it even rape anymore? Of course, it was, Roy chided himself. I'm not going to fall into that guilt trap.
Greed was gushing over him in a most unHughes like way, and Roy just fucking COULDN'T keep the illusion. Roy was suddenly filled with such intense hate of Greed, of the two boys, of himself that he wanted to scream. But he bit it back.
He was not going to cry for Greed. Fuck it he was NOT GOING TO FUCKING CRY about this. Tears helped nothing.
Greed pushed him down and he arched his back turning his head away trying to hide his face behind his fringe of black hair. He turned his head away, but Greed had seen. Greed was mad. Fuck it, it couldn't get any worse.
"You need to straighten up your attitude," Greed said, pressing Roy into the mattress.
Roy's hands dug uncomfortably into the small of his back and his legs were pushed up and over Greeds shoulders. A new position, but the same damn act. When would it end?
It was hopeless. Hopeless.
Greed took him with long strokes, nearly leaving his body before mercilessly pounding back in. There was no pleasure in this anymore. It was like being beaten.
"I'm going to fuck you sore tonight," said Greed. "Whether you like it or not, it's going to happen Roy. If you choose to take a poor attitude, that is your decision, but you should know, how I will treat you depends on how you choose to face the situation. Do you understand?"
Screw you, thought Roy.
Greed slapped his face. Everything froze. Roy's train of thought derailed.
"Do you understand?"
"No." said Roy.
Greed never stopped thrusting, but his rhythm slowed and his strokes were shorter.
"I expect my family to love me, Roy. Because I love them back. I show kindness, tenderness, and I expect loyalty and respect. That is family. If I were you, I'd aim for that, because I would never cut the hands off of a family member. And when I fuck them, I'm the best goddamn lover in existence.
"Then there are whores. I don't love the whores, their job is to make me feel good any way they can. It's a one way street. As long as they can fake their pleasure well enough, I don't really give a damn if they really enjoyed it or not, I hope they did, but that's not my problem. I just don't want to see them cringe and whine. THAT is a turn off.
"And then there are my victims. They are the people I TRY to hurt, because they damn well deserve it. I like to see them cry. I like to hear them scream. I get satisfaction out of that, even if it's not what pleases my cock the most.
"Now Roy, it's up to you if you want to be family, whore, or victim. If you choose to enjoy this, the way I know you are capable of, then I will give you great pleasure in return. If you cry, I'm going to give you a damn good reason for it."
Greed stroked Roy's cheek with his thumb. "It's your choice sweetheart."
Greed came again. Was it the fourth or fifth? Roy allowed himself to sigh with relief, and hoped this time it would be enough to satisfy. But Greed grabbed his waist and pulled him to the edge of the bed, draping his lower half over the side. It began again.
No. No more. Roy tried to crawl back up into the bed, out of reach, but Greed's hands were firm on his back.
Roy concentrated on making himself relax. No resistance. Boneless. He was sweaty and exhausted, and his brain had overloaded some time ago.
Just survive the next few minutes, that's all he had to do. Just get through this minute, and then the next, and then the next. If he took it in small enough increments it was bearable.
The whap to the back of his head took him by surprise. "Don't fall asleep on me, Roy."
"What do you want?" Roy asked, hoping to keep the whine out of his voice. Greed didn't like whining, and Roy didn't want to piss Greed off. Right now the only Roy wanted was to make Greed happy so that this long punishing reaming would end. All thoughts of his former life had fled. He was in the now and he couldn't imagine ever being anywhere else.
"I want you to enjoy this."
Greed might as well have told Roy to enjoy having his foot crushed under a train. Roy concentrated on steadying his breathing because he didn't want his exhaustion to sound like a sob. That would only make Greed be crueler.
Greed pet his hair. "Is it that difficult?"
Roy just heaved a sigh. Telling Greed that he was already so very sore would just anger the man.
"It's been a while, Roy," said Greed reaching around his hip and stroking Roy's limp member. "You should have recovered by now. I will tell you what, I will stop this as soon as you come for me again. I will keep this up until you do."
Roy closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He had no doubt at this point that Greed could fuck him indefinitely. Greed could probably even kill him this way.
"I'll try," he said. "Please."
Greed stroked him and simultaneously became gentler. That almost didn't matter Roy's ass was so tender even slow strokes inflamed his bruised insides. Roy tried to remember Hughes, but he couldn't, he couldn't remember ten minutes ago.
This was impossible. He couldn't come again. Roy felt his chest hitch in again, and he fought to keep his emotions in check.
Greed seemed to understand. "I know you are hurting, but that isn't all bad. You can interpret pain in more than one way. Pain can be pleasure, too. You can choose to like it. It's all attitude. If your mind is where it should be, your body will follow. As bad as this feels you'll recover from this, and one day you may thank me for expanding your senses. You will come to remember tonight fondly."
Greed continued to minister to Roy's cock. Pretend, he thought. Pretend I like pain. Pretend pain is good. Pain and pleasure are the same.
"Much better Roy. Hold that thought. Turn your face, yes, like that, I want to see your expression." Greed grabbed Roy's hair with one hand and turned his neck as far it would go to one side. At this point Roy would let Greed do anything. He had no strength left.
"Ed," called Greed. "Get the short strap."
Roy saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and heard footsteps crossing the room.
"Yes," said Greed. "That one. Good. Now Roy, you have some interesting reactions to pain. Let's see if this helps you."
Greed worked Roy's cock and continued to thrust in a steady, slow way. Pain is good. Pain feels nice. Hot. I like pain. It's naughty. God help him, it was working. It did feel just a bit better.
Suddenly, he felt a biting sting against his right thigh and heard a crack. The world narrowed. Thought ended. Roy knew he was feeling something but he honestly couldn't identify it. Was it good? Was it bad?
Pain is good, it must be good. I have to come so this must be good.
Crack. Now there was a second stinging line, a bit lower, closer to the knee.
"Good job, Roy, you are hard again. You like this."
I like this, agreed Roy desperately.
His body responded. He was climbing up to the top again. Greed's cock hit his prostate, stirring it again. It felt very good.
"I wonder if I can make you come without rubbing your cock," said Greed idly, removing his hand and leaving Roy hard, dangling. Roy wanted to rub himself against the side of the bed, but didn't dare. His pleasure quickly began to wane.
No—don't make this any harder—"Please," said Roy.
"Beg me to continue, Roy," said Greed.
"Please, I beg you."
"Call me sir."
"Sir, please, I beg you, keep rubbing my cock."
The strap hit him on his shoulder, catching the edge of the burn. Roy hissed. Pain feels good. I like pain. Pain is hot.
Then Greed resumed fisting his cock. "Come and this will end," said Greed.
Roy couldn't tell the feelings apart anymore. He didn't want to. With every ounce of concentration he had he convinced himself that pleasure and pain were the same. Greed went back to striking his outer thigh, three cracks in a row.
That was it, the sting of his flesh more even than the hand on his cock brought Roy up over the edge. He screwed his eyes shut and screamed, feeling the familiar surge of pleasure at his balls, climbing up into his body and back down again through his cock. It was a hard come, overwhelming in its intensity.
Greed's cock pulled out. Roy sighed with relief.
"Very, very good," purred Greed. "Very good, pet. Now thank me."
Greed hit him with the strap again. "Call me sir."
"Thank you, sir."
Greed caressed his hair, his cheek. "Better."
It's over. Roy almost didn't believe it, the punishment had gone on so long. How long? It was getting lighter outside. It felt like hours, but there was no knowing. All Roy wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but Greed had other ideas.
Greed hoisted him back up on the bed and put him in a sitting position. Roy tried to lie down, but Greed steadied him and held him upright. "No sleeping yet, pet."
No. Not done. Greed had promised—or had he?
Roy stared dully at Greed's face. Sweat ran into his eyes and stung a bit, but there was nothing Roy could do to wipe it away. The fetters on his wrists were firm. The room reeked of sex, and Roy felt a trickle of something wet his thighs. He didn't know if it was blood or come or a mix. He wished he could wipe it. It tickled.
"You were very good there, in the end," said Greed, still kneeling on the floor in front of Roy's knees. "You are a fast learner. Good. We are going to talk now about obedience, pet." Greeds hand idly stroked Roy's knee, then slid up, finding the edge of the strap mark, testing the welt with a gentle finger.
"You are mine," Greed continued. "And that means, what I ask for you give to the best of your ability. No complaints, no hesitation. Though at times it may seem my demands are impossible, as you have just seen, they are not. You have it in your capability to satisfy me. It's simply a matter of putting your mind in the right place."
Greed pushed Roy's knees apart and moved between them, still kneeling. Roy made no effort to keep him out. He had no expectations anymore. "You are a very focused person. Alchemy is not for the weak minded. I want you to focus for me now on giving me exactly what I ask for, no matter how strange. Can you do that?"
Roy said nothing.
Greed slapped his face, hard. Roy heard ringing in his ear and he blinked with surprise.
"When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Are you going to do exactly what I tell you to?"
"Yes, sir," Roy said, dazed.
"Good, pet." Greed smiled. He looked down and seemed to notice the half full glass of water for the first time. "Are you thirsty?" Greed asked. He stood up and retrieved the glass and offered it in Roy's direction.
Roy was thirsty. "Yes, sir."
Greed smiled and poured the water onto the wood floor. It spread out and ran toward the back of the room. "Then drink, pet."
Roy looked at the puddle hopelessly. What was he supposed to do?
Greed grabbed his hair and pushed him forward, off the bed and nose first into the puddle. "Lap it up. Lick it."
Roy felt a vague stirring of his former will. The floor didn't look all that clean. He felt a stir of revulsion. "Hurry, Roy, or I will see to it that the only water you drink is from the floor."
Roy licked the floor tentatively. It tasted like water and wood, bit musty. He licked again. It was hard getting enough this way to actually drink. Roy wished he could use his arms to balance, instead of having to rest his body on his chin. His thighs trembled.
"All of it, Roy."
Moving about was hard. His ass was sore and his legs didn't want to work. Even his chest and stomach felt like they'd been put through heavy exercise. He was so tired, but he did what he could, moving himself through the puddle, licking it, getting just a tiny bit to run down his dry throat.
Roy stopped, his eyes staring blindly under the bed. It took him a moment to realized that Greed has spanked him. Why? Was he doing something wrong? Then he felt Greeds hand stroke his buttock. "Don't stop, Roy, keep going."
His mouth took him towards the other bed. He could see Ed's naked legs, and with effort he looked upwards. Ed was staring down on him with a sad expression.
I am sad, Roy thought. I'm pathetic. This is low. This is fucking humiliating.
Greeds hands were on him again, stroking his back up to his thigh and then a wayward finger slid moistly into his slack and ravaged anus. Roy shuddered. Greed had promised, he was sure of it.
"Hmmm, you were injured here I think," said Greed almost idly, "It may take a day or two before you are ready for me again."
The finger mercifully withdrew. "Al, get the tail—pony please. He is a Mustang after all." Greed suddenly moved and tucked an arm around Roy's waist, pinning him. Roy tensed with anticipation of whatever was coming.
"I think the problem is you are too tight. You need a good long stretching."
Sure enough he was being violated again, by something considerably bigger than Greed's finger. Roy clenched his teeth. Pain is pleasure, he told himself. The invader was smooth and cold, thick and long, It filled him up almost as much as Greed had. He fought not to struggle.
Once the dildo was seated, Greed and Al went to work attaching the straps. Someone slid a ring over Roy's limp member, another band pulled at Roy's scrotum, stretching it, cinching tight around the base. Finally straps were tightened around Roy's hips and thighs holding everything in place.
Roy felt hair brush against his thighs. He looked between his own legs and saw a horse tail flowing down past his knees. He knew he must look ridiculous.
Greed grabbed Roy's hair and lifted him into a kneeling position. "As wonderful as it is to watch you obey me, my sweet, I'm tired. And I suspect you are, too. We shall do more of this after we've both had a bit of rest." Greed tilted Roy's chin so that their eyes met. "You are so very beautiful." He let Roy's head go. "I'll help you to the bed."
Roy could barely walk. Every shift of his thighs tugged the straps which in turn made the horse tail sway and the dildo shift inside of him. Greed's strength pushed him on, mincing foot by foot until he reached the bed. He was then helped down to lie on his stomach, the ridiculous tail pointing up in the air. Roy could just barely touch the tail with his fingers. There was no hope that he could remove the straps.
Apparently that gesture alone was enough to trigger another stinging spank. "I can't have you messing with that, pet. Al, gloves." Roy's hands were balled into fists and placed in tight sacks.
"We don't want want you making arrays while your keepers sleep either. There that should keep you in line."
Greed ran a hand once more in Roys hair, mussing it up affectionately. "Goodnight. Sleep well."
Roy said nothing.
When Greed was gone, Ed spoke up softly. "Are you okay?"
"Not really," said Roy, tiredly.
"I'm sorry," said Ed. "Are you still thirsty?"
Roy was, but he didn't want to move and he couldn't drink lying on his stomach like this. "No."
There was silence. "I'm sorry," said Ed. "It's my fault you are here."
Yes it is, Roy wanted to say, but he didn't. The boy seemed sympathetic to him, he shouldn't squander that. "Ed, please untie my hands. Just for a little. You can put them back on in a few minutes." It was a hope. Just a few minutes of stolen freedom—that's all he wanted.
"I'm sorry," said Ed. "I can't."
Roy closed his eyes. It was never going to end.