Scooter and Malachi

by Nicholas Hall

Chapter 3

"The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keeper of the walls took away my veil from me."

(Song of Solomon)

Terror in the night can be eased by love!

Malachi's voice, softly, tearfully spoken into my ear as I held him against me, clutched at my heart such like the talons of a hawk grasping the smallest of rodents as the rodent struggled in vain to free itself; rumbled to my very depths, plummeting like a rock slide roaring down a precipitous slope from a majestic peak, tossing aside objects in its thunderous path; and sent cold, icy shivers of fear, sorrow, and helplessness up and down my spine as I came to realize how he was injured, his external and internal hurt, fears foisted upon him as he'd possibly not faced before, all inflicted by the cruelty, viciousness, and lawlessness of others!

There was little else I could offer him at the time except the comfort of my arms, my words of concern for him and my reassurance. Cupping his head with one hand, holding it close to my shoulder and face, cheek to cheek with mine, allowing him to cry out his anguish and hurt, expunging the terrors of both night and day haunting him as best he could, resting my other hand around his back holding him upright, his sobbing lessened and I felt him shiver! Fearing he was growing cold, I moved to step back to retrieve his blanket so I might cover him!

"Please hold me!" he pleaded. "Don't let me go!"

Reassuring him I wouldn't, I did an extraordinary thing, for me, I thought. I brought my lips to his and kissed him! I pulled my head back quickly suddenly fearful of his reaction and how he'd feel about me once he understood the meaning of the kiss was just more than comfort on my part.

"Oh, Malachi," I said quickly, apologizing for my boldness, "I am so sorry, I shouldn't have done that!"

Malachi just snuggled in to my neck closer, murmured a soft, "It's okay; thank you!" and kissed me back, on my neck, bringing shivers of erotic delight to my already stiff prong, adding, "You sure smell good!"

"I need to get you covered," I sighed, "you're shivering. If I can get you to your chair would you like to lie down for a while?"

I felt him nod his agreement against my shoulder, his cheek again rested against mine. His voice was soft, pleading, urging me to continue our close contact, lending him my warmth, my comfort, allowing me to absorb and share in his care. "Can we sit together on the couch?"

It took some doing but I'd placed pillows strategically on the couch so his injured leg would be elevated by one and one to lay his head on, arranged his blanket so I could cover him with it easily, maneuvered his chair, with him in it, to the couch, and with both of us working at it, seated him on the couch. I lifted his legs, placing his injured one on the pillow, fluffed up the pillow for his head, and was about to help him swing around to lay down, when he asked,

"Can I rest my head on your lap?"

I sat on the couch, helped him lay down with his head resting on my lap, and waited, anticipating some other instruction or for him to fall asleep or for my ever stiffening prong, small as it may seem to others, would jab him in the neck, and cause him to either scramble away or, hope against hope, turn his head so his lips rested on it! God save me if he did; I'd spew on the spot.

Sleep wasn't on his mind however! Malachi looked up at me, his grey-green eyes moist, yet trusting, hopeful, and still wary! Seeming to make up his mind, he smiled, closed those beautiful eyes, evidently not wanting to see my reaction when he spoke.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm living with Uncle Dave instead of my mother and father?"

I wondered that all week, but I just answered, "Only if you want to tell me!"

"The truth is," he began, opening his eyes, peering deeply into mine, "my mother hates me and I have no idea where my father is!" and closed his eyes again.

Well, that certainly was a strange, but troubling, opening statement. I waited patiently for him to continue.

I heard the front door open and footsteps coming through the house toward the family room as Malachi started to tell me his story. Looking up briefly, I saw Cayden Allison and Mr. Taylor standing in the doorway. Touching my finger to my lips, they came silently into the room, and sat down. If Malachi heard them, he didn't react, instead his eyes popped open, looked intensely into mine, begging me to listen, wanting me to understand his life up until we met, and accept him for what it was and he is!

"My mother, Susan Taylor, two years younger than Uncle Dave, met my father, Jericho Vincenzo Duranleau in Madison, Wisconsin. She worked as a secretary in some government office and he was a student of the arts, specifically dance; an entering freshman at the University. She was twenty-seven and he was seventeen!"

"She must have gotten pregnant the first time he fucked her since my appearance into the world came about ten months later. She made no bones about it; I was a product of her recreation and a mistake, vowing never to let it happen again! I was a burden on her life; as a result my care during my early years was by my father and his friends."

"I don't think she ever really loved him, only kept him around as a boy-toy with a big cock! I later learned he wasn't the only pecker she enjoyed having stuffed up her snatch. They never married and perhaps that's just as well! My first real memory of him was when I was maybe two or three years old."

Jericho Duranleau was a loving, caring father who, when Malachi woke during the night, would change him, feed him, cuddle him close to his chest while walking, singing softly and quietly dancing to unheard music until the small babe fell asleep. When Malachi grew older, if he woke during the night, it was his father who comforted him, held him, and rocked him until he fell asleep again.

Malachi could remember sitting on his father's lap while attending a recital, concert, or the ballet, content to be held, listening to the music! Many times, as he grew older, his father would take him along to social gatherings where Jericho's many friends, both male and female, would willingly entertain the small, beautiful boy with the sparkling grey-green eyes!

Jericho finished his Bachelor of Arts degree and began a master's degree program when Malachi was six years old. His mother continued to relegate care of him to his father, and, beyond providing a place to live, money for food, and a warm place for Jericho to stuff his prod, pretty much left them alone! Susan had other interests! It was also the age Jericho enrolled Malachi in a dance studio owned by one of his friends. Malachi exhibited a natural rhythm, grace, and coordination for dance and Jericho wanted to develop the talent the boy had.

Dance instruction, by a variety of teachers, included not only ballet but tap, ballroom, and performance dance and was provided free of charge to Malachi since Jericho worked part-time as an instructor. The pay from his instructor's position at the studio and from his position as a graduate-assistant, paid for his tuition and fees for his Master's degree.

At approximately the same age, Malachi stopped taking a "bath" in the tub and began showering with his father. He thought nothing of it, but remembered being fascinated by the difference in the size of his dad's penis compared to his. When he asked his father about it, Jerry explained carefully and completely how his would develop as he grew. It satisfied Malachi's curiosity!

Life was pretty good for Malachi when his father was around. He enjoyed school, was a good student, did well at dance, and exhibited a natural talent in art, but was left alone and unloved by his mother, who'd find any excuse to punish or degrade him.

Malachi was eight years old when his father received his Master's Degree and began short touring trips with a dance company doing summer stock performances. Usually the tours would last two to four weeks, sometimes six weeks, before Jericho was back home. While he was away, Susan would entertain young men overnight in their apartment, wrapping her legs around the college boys' hips who were willing to service her. On more than one occasion, while she was entertaining, Malachi would sneak to her bedroom door to watch as a young man, bare-assed naked, his butt up in the air and his dick buried deep between her thighs, would pump and pump until she'd moan and he'd tense his butt cheeks, and deposit his offering into the well-used collection basket. Malachi found viewing her lover's cocks, stiff or soft, long or short, much more tantalizing than any female he'd ever seen! The sight of those male appendages stiffened his little spike as hard as concrete.

Much to his mother's chagrin and despite her derisive comments directed toward him and his father, Jericho allowed Malachi's hair to grow until it could be fashioned into a "man-bun,' resting on the upper back of his head, adding to the beauty and attraction of the young lad. Malachi, proud of it, would smile, almost seductively when other men or boys would smile and wink at him, admiring his appearance. Needless to say, there were also those at school who'd make unkind, homophobic remarks about and to him, but Malachi showed no visible regard for them even though the remarks wounded him deeply.

The same remarks made by his mother were rebuked by his father in Malachi's defense, but when he was gone, she delighted in taunting and ridiculing him. She encouraged the same treatment of him by her lovers, only drew the line at physical abuse of him by them.

When he was nine, Jericho decided to take him along on the summer tour with a stock company. The company performed mainly ballet but there was an occasional modern dance performance as well. Malachi was given some small parts and had the opportunity to practice, learn, and perform not only with his father, but other performers as well.

It didn't take him long to become accustomed to donning either his practice tights or shorts or performance leotards or tights and other clothing while in a communal dressing room with the other, usually older, males in the company. He was witness to a wide assortment of male sex organs ranging from large, thick cocks to smaller although he was one of the smallest and from totally erect ones to flaccid ones. Showering with the other males caused him concern at first, but he was always with his father and was reassured everything was fine. Seeing others in an aroused state as well, calmed his fears, and timidity.

Malachi, while on summer tour, also witnessed his first, open, male-to-male sex while showering. Two young men, new to the company and obviously in love, while showering fondled each other to hardness, and quicker than you could say "upsy daisy" one turned the other to face the wall, shoved his hard prong up the butt of the other, and with four or five pumps, fired his seed deep into his lover's butt.

One of the other men, standing next to Malachi and his father, commented, "Christ, he's faster than a monkey fuck!" Malachi never saw a monkey fuck, but what he saw was quite remarkable and stored the image away for future reference.

When several other men and a couple of the women made certain visual and spoken overtures toward him, Jericho let it be known Malachi was off limits and hence, he wasn't to be bothered. It was also the first time Malachi shared a room with his father and several other men. Malachi had a roll-away bed and he learned his father enjoyed the company of other men and women as well in his bed. Others seemed unconcerned about the sexual activity in Jericho's bed; they were well occupied with their own sexual encounters. Malachi would fall asleep amidst the groans, moans, yelps, and other expressions of sexual gratification emanating from the couples or threesomes, depending!

Malachi, looking over at his son one time, while he extracted his large prong from the ass of a young male dancer, said, "I would prefer you not say anything to your mother about this. She has a strong and violent reaction to two males having sex."

Malachi wasn't about to say anything, he'd heard enough at home to convince him his mother had no compunction about having as many young guys mount her as she could, but couldn't tolerate gays! He didn't want the wrath of his mother pouring down on both him and his father, risking not going on summer tours anymore. No, he'd keep his mouth shut about a lot of things.

The tour the year he turned eleven was a pivotal year for him; one affecting his life and future career choices. A young high school art teacher, also a dancer, befriended him, not in a sexual way, but more like a big brother, when he first noticed Malachi doodling on a sketch pad while waiting for his father to finish practicing.

Malachi paused in his narration and with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face, the first I'd witnessed since I came in the house earlier, teased, "You'll notice I said doodling on the sketch pad, not dribbling on it, or diddling my pecker under it!" laughed and continued.

"I didn't know what to expect when he sat beside me, looked over at my drawing – a male ballet dancer in tights, arms outstretched and one leg extended in a classic pose, and said 'Nice.' With his guidance and tutelage I discovered I enjoyed the visual arts even more than the performing arts, although I had no desire to abandon one for the other."

Jim Carpenter, the art teacher, recognized an innate talent for drawing and general creativity in Malachi Duranleau and, with his father's approval, began instructing young Malachi. His encouragement, subtle motivations, and critiques moved Malachi's desire to develop his talent and celebrate his giftedness even though others might not! He was artsy and with Jim Carpenter's support, proud of it.

"The fine arts are the soul of our humanity and an expression of all things beautiful and unfortunately, not so beautiful, in our world!" Jim Carpenter told him. "It's how the artist expresses it, in song, dance, writing, drawing, painting, and other means which reveals the inner depth of the artist and his or her relationship with the world and its creatures, including man."

From him Malachi also learned to appreciate his own talents, build his desire to improve himself through future studies, and the importance of keeping a low profile while growing up or while among strangers or those who might not understand his sexual preferences, since by now, there was no doubt in Malachi's mind he was gay. He learned to hide in the open, disguising his true self from others; he had the man-bun cut off, much to his father's dismay, and opted for an ordinary, normal haircut. He learned to dress in such a manner as to disguise his lithe frame and cute face so he wouldn't stand out in a crowd; he began learning survival skills at an early age.

Malachi was twelve years old and in seventh grade when, just before Christmas, his parents got into a terrible fight. His dad was supposed to be leaving on an overseas tour with a touring dance company. Their quarrels had been becoming more and more frequent, vehement, and impassioned with anger and menace toward each other ever since the completion of the previous summer stock tour. His mother seemed almost on the edge of violence as she shouted degrading remarks at his father. Malachi tried not to listen, but often his name came up during the verbal exchanges. Many times he'd hear the apartment door slam as his father left the house. However, not once, did his father fail to come to Malachi's room, kiss him goodnight, and tell him how much he loved him.

His mother, however, was a different matter. Her animosity toward Malachi increased, driving him to become more reticent, more withdrawn around her, in order to avoid a conflict.

Jericho was scheduled to be gone for six to eight weeks on the tour. It was the night before he was to leave the terrible fight broke out. It ended with the sound of a hard slap! His father came to his room, kissed him, saying, "Malachi, know I will always love you, no matter what." and left. It was the last time Malachi ever saw his father.

Malachi inhaled a deep breath, held it, and slowly exhaled, his eyes still focused on my face as if he was examining it carefully and committing to memory every aspect, curve, line, lines, and the softness or hardness of my features.

"The next morning when I woke up, my mother demanded my cell phone and my Chrome Book®. I had no choice but to surrender them to her. It angered me, but did little good to fight her! They were gifts from my dad and the only way we could contact each other when he was away. I always looked forward to hearing from him when he traveled and now I needed to hear from him more than ever."

"She hit me with even a bigger bombshell; she told me we were moving the day after Christmas. When I asked her where, she told me Kenosha."

Susan previously asked for, unbeknownst to Malachi or Jericho, and received a transfer to a government office in Kenosha. Once there, it didn't take her long to convince some guy to share her bed and help with expenses. Malachi remembered all he'd learned from Mr. Carpenter; kept a low profile, did his homework, and until the ninth grade didn't participate in any dance classes or school activities.

The school presented a spring musical variety show each year featuring vocal, dance, and instrumental solos and groups. For want of something to do and keep him away from his mother and her boyfriends, Malachi signed up for the stage crew, helping design and build the sets for the various acts. During one of the practices, while he was working with the crew painting a backdrop, a group performing a vocal act, was struggling with some dance steps they wanted to incorporate into the act. Malachi stepped over, moved to one of the boys, saying,

"Watch!" took the boys hand, adding, "Follow me" and walked him through the steps until the other boy could do them.

In a half hour he was able to teach the group a dance step he thought would be appropriate for their number and left them to practice.

The vocal music teacher in charge of the performance took Malachi aside and asked, "Not only are you a creative artist, but an accomplished dancer. Would you like to take over the job of choreographer and help the others?"

His mother was furious when she heard he'd agreed and demanded he quit. When he told her no, she slapped his face, once, twice, and finally three times. He walked to the kitchen, returned with a heavy iron skillet, held it up in front of her, and said softly,

"Mother, you've forgotten I've grown! If you ever lay a hand on me again, I'll smash both of your hands with this skillet, ending your secretary career. The only way you'll survive is by fucking for money!"

Malachi had grown not only taller, but his dance training had strengthened and toned his muscles. He was still light framed and slender, but he wasn't a bit fearful about following through on his threat and she knew it.

Not only was he growing taller, but he'd been changing sexually as well. His balls dropped, a patch of black pubic hair was forming at the base of his lengthening and thickening teen cock, and he was beginning to spew white streams of cock snot. He'd received more than one admiring or jealous look from other boys in the boys shower room after physical education class.

Malachi was careful, however. He kept his desires and sexual orientation well closeted. The music teacher also made arrangements for Malachi to continue his dance lessons at a local studio at no cost.

In the spring of his tenth grade year of high school, his mother began seeing another man; an older fellow, much older than her usual playmates. Malachi estimated the man was probably three to five years older than his mother. He'd show up about every two weeks, they'd take off to a motel, leaving Malachi home alone, and return Sunday morning. She never commented and Malachi never asked any questions.

Their relationship continued into Malachi's junior year of high school.

"I woke up from a nap one Sunday afternoon, the end of September, to the sound of voices in the apartment. Mother left on Friday evening to be with her boyfriend and I didn't expect her back until evening since lately that'd been her pattern. I thought she'd either returned early or my father found me."

"Opening my bedroom door carefully, since I wasn't certain what I'd find, I was disappointed to see my mother standing there with her boyfriend and two younger men. Clad only in my boxer briefs, I hastened to step back into my room, but was met with a command from my mother to get out there and meet my new family."

"My heart sank; no good could come from this, I thought, and I was right! Holding my hands in front of me to conceal my bulge, I stepped out and faced the four of them. The two younger men eyed me over as if I was some sort of exhibit in a zoo or livestock at the state fair."

His mother spoke up; "Malachi, I want you to meet Judge Clarence Lawson, a judge from near Atlanta, Georgia and his two sons Myron, age twenty-two, and Warren, age twenty. Clarence and I were married yesterday and we'll be moving to Georgia on Monday morning, as soon as I can contact your school and have your records transferred and turn in your books."

Malachi was so shocked by her announcement, his mouth gaped, and he was momentarily stunned to silence. When he did find his voice, he shouted, "You might be, but I'm sure as hell not going to!" and stepped back into his bedroom, locking the door as he did.

The door knob jiggled as someone on the other side tested it to see if the door was locked. A strong voice, Judge Lawson, demanded, "Young man, open this door! You will obey your mother and me! Do you hear me boy?"

Malachi didn't respond.

Judge Lawson then ordered, "Myron, open the door."

It was a cheap lock and popped open the minute Myron pushed against it.

Judge Lawson and his two sons walked into the bedroom. The Judge was no small man and neither were his sons, physical resistance against any one of the three would've proven disastrous for Malachi. The Judge also "tended to the gut" while his sons looked like weight lifters.

"Now, boy," the Judge admonished, "you'll do as you're told. You have your bags packed and ready to leave in the morning. What you don't take gets trashed; understand me, boy?'

Malachi eyed the two thuggish looking sons and decided discretion was the better part of valor and nodded.

The Judge scratched his chin, waggled a finger menacingly at Malachi threatening, "You try anything stupid like taking off during the night, I'll have every law dog in this state and all the surrounding states chasing you down like a coon headed for a tree. When you're caught, and you will be, I'll have you locked up until you're forty years old or until every old pedo in prison has sampled you so much you'll be dead."

"Yeah," smirked Myron, "Your asshole will be so well used, it'll pop open whenever you see a cock!"

Both Lawson boys laughed until the Judge shushed them with "Enough!"

Warren just couldn't resist getting the last word in however. He walked up to Malachi, moved his hands away from his crotch, and with a menacing smile, said, "If I have to help you pack, whatever fits up your ass goes and what doesn't, stays. You'll take more than you think that way since I'll probably pack it tight with my fat cock!"

The three of them left his room, but Malachi stayed near the door, hoping to get some sort of clue what else they might try. The Lawson boys were told to watch the door during the rest of the day, letting him go only to the bathroom, and make certain he didn't leave during the night.

Malachi heard Myron say, "He don't look like no nigger boy to me."

"Well, he is, half anyway, according to his mother," the Judge responded.

"Never saw a grey eyed nigger before!" commented Warren.

"They're green!" snorted Myron.


"Well, he doesn't have fat lips or kinky hair," growled Warren.

"Bet he's got a fat, long cock though," laughed Myron.

"He's not even black, more light tan or something!" speculated Myron.

"Maybe he's a high-yellow!" snorted Warren.

"Enough!" growled Judge Lawson.

"What the hell did she keep his daddy around for if he was a nigger?" asked Myron.

"Well," answered the Judge, "he looked white, tanned, but white. She'd grown suspicious after she read somewhere on the Internet about niggers trying to pass for white and watched him more closely. As the boy grew she was convinced then."

"Why she kick the boy's daddy out?" asked Warren.

"Came home one day early and found his old man buried balls deep up the ass of another, young nigger boy and the shit hit the fan! Said she couldn't abide a queer, especially a nigger one!"

"Suppose the boy is too?" asked Myron.

Malachi didn't wait to hear the answer, trying to stifle the sobs growing in his chest. He slid a chair under the door and began packing, readying himself for a very uncertain future. His sadness, distress, coupled with anger wasn't so much what they said about him, since he really didn't give a shit what color he was, or the fact it was only one reason why his own mother rejected him, but the realization and first-hand observation of the plethora of hatred, anathema, enmity, and total disregard for others who might look, act, believe, or be of a different color other than the white of his mother and her new husband and his family. Malachi knew the four of them were only a microcosm of a larger, yet active, noisy, hateful, right-wing, highly dangerous, minority population!

His distress, heartache, and mental suffering was exacerbated by his knowledge of his own father's bi-sexuality. More than once he'd witnessed his father coupling with a person of either gender, knowing, hope against hope their secrets wouldn't be revealed to his mother and those who'd do them harm. Malachi wasn't bi-sexual, but gay, of that he was certain. He only had to keep it concealed until he was able to get away and be on his own. With those two bigoted and evil ape sons of the Judge hovering about, always watching him, he'd have to be very, very careful and not do anything which might reveal himself, his plans, or bring their wrath raining down upon him in a physical sense. He'd continue to follow the advice of Mr. Carpenter; head down, hide in plain sight, and keep his own counsel, he hoped.

The Judge's house was located in a relatively fashionable neighborhood in a small city of about twenty-thousand about an hour and a half or so from Atlanta. There were five bedrooms in the house; two occupied by the "bigot brothers," one by his mother and her husband, a spare for guests, and one for him. The Judge employed a cook (black), a housekeeper (Latina), and a groundskeeper (black). None of the three lived on the premises and all entered through the back door of the house.

Malachi settled into his new school, rode the city bus to school every day (there was a bus stop three blocks away), and thought continually how he could raise the money he needed to fund his escape from what he considered a crippling hell. Although he had his own room and had a certain degree of freedom, he also knew he was watched; his every coming and going observed by someone, almost as if he was an incarcerated prisoner on daily work release. If not his mother, the Judge, his two sons, then by the hired help who he figured reported to the Judge on a daily basis. They weren't the only ones watching, seeing what others didn't want seen, storing away information; even the caged cat or penned bunny rabbit watch and plan.

Malachi was never addressed by his name, but instead the disparaging word "boy!" meant to establish his place in the pecking order of the household and society. If he was anywhere near Myron or Warren, his presence seemed to give them license to cuff him alongside the head on anywhere on his body with some derogatory, bigoted comment to express their feelings toward him. The house was filled with hate and his only escape was school. He did use the school's computer system to try to locate his father, but was unsuccessful.

As one day evolved into the next, his need to escape grew, but he didn't know when, how, or where he'd raise the funds to expedite it. Malachi knew of no family, either on his mother's side or father's since neither of them ever mentioned having any, so the hopes of seeking refuge there was nigh unto impossible. He did know if he could get back to Madison, something or someone would turn up to help him. He'd gone to school there and his father received his degrees from the University there. Surely there'd be some leads or a refuge of some sort for him there? He'd be safe and able to reconnect with his life there.

A luck break for him came a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. Walking by the guidance office, scanning the bulletin board outside the office, he noticed a posting for a waiter's position at one of the more established and popular dining supper clubs about two miles from his home. At dinner that evening he broached the idea of applying to his mother and the Judge, noting there was a bus connection which he could use to get to work and get home afterwards. Must to his surprise, both approved, with one caveat; he was turn over his check each week to the Judge who would in turn, dole out a weekly allowance to him. Malachi quickly agreed! He'd traveled enough with his father over the years to know the base wage for wait staff was minimum wage, but the real money was in the tips, paid in cash.

Although he'd never waited tables before, he was confident he could do it and do it well. He'd been in enough restaurants with his father and well-schooled in what good service should be! It didn't take much for him to convince the owner he could do the job. He'd work weekends, Friday and Saturday nights until the kitchen closed and Sundays, brunch through the evening dinner hours.

Malachi was young, handsome (almost pretty for a boy), slim, graceful, well-mannered, poised, polite, and eloquent in his language in dealing with customers. He made certain his customers received the best of service, making certain his table's entrées were hot and ready on time so the meal flowed! He was a performer by experience and used his time on the stage to his financial advantage, garnering large tips from his customers. Dressed in a form-fitting white shirt, red bowtie, and tight, grey slacks hugging his hips, accentuating his nice, firm, slightly bubble posterior, he discovered if he dressed sans boxer briefs under his slacks, his more than adult-sized cock hanging heavy, thick, and long down the inside of his right thigh, clearly outlining the size and tempting offering, his tips improved dramatically! On more than one occasion he was offered a pleasant night away from the restaurant by both males and females, although the offer was made more by men than women. Alas he would say, he couldn't since he was needed at home.

Oh, he thought about it; a lot, especially at night, after work, naked in his bed, his heavy, thick cock in his hands, slowly stroking up and down, slipping his foreskin back and forth over the wide, slick head, pausing only to taste himself of the clear, sticky liquid dripping from the widening slit at the end of his swollen, sensitive penis. Resuming, after his pause, more vigorous in his attention to his growing lust until, legs outstretched, toes curled, stomach tensing, and cock swelling as the thick tube on the underside began pulsing out his white, thick load of semen! A handful of tissues was usually necessary to sop up the copious, sticky substance.

Malachi was never on the receiving end while he fantasized, unless it was to suck his imaginary lover's cock until his lover's eyes crossed! No, he was the one mounting and breeding his lover's ass, time and time again.

Malachi was still a virgin when it came to gay sex with another male and vowed to remain so until he really, really found someone he was ready to commit to for a long term relationship. Gay marriage was legal in many states and it was that type of relationship he looked forward to; no one night stands for him. Besides, the danger of life threatening STD's was all too real, even with all of the modern drugs available.

He dutifully handed over his checks each week to Judge Lawson and just as faithfully stashed his cash under the stiff piece of material in the bottom of his soft, nylon luggage. He figured it would be the last place anyone would look, especially since he kept his ballet practice clothes there.

Malachi never felt so alone and unloved as he did in the Lawson house.

The weekend spring break began, culminating with the Monday after Easter Sunday a week away, Malachi was scheduled to work Friday and Saturday night and on Sunday from brunch through the dinner hour. He would then have a week without school to finalize his plans. He figured he could take off on Easter Saturday after work and be out of the state before dawn on Easter Sunday. Since they'd expect him to be at work while they all were at church, they probably wouldn't miss him until Monday when the school called wondering where he was. At last count, he had well over a thousand dollars stashed and with what he would make in tips this weekend, he'd have enough to last him until he could find someone in Madison to help him.

Malachi exited the city bus and started to walk the three blocks to the Judge's house. It had been a busy, but profitable night at the restaurant; with over one hundred and eighty dollars in his jeans pockets from very appreciative customers, he was confident he'd have enough by the end of the weekend, he'd be able to escape. The night was cool, so he zipped up his nylon jacket, hunkered his head down, and stepped up his pace. A block from the house, so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he never heard their approach until he was quickly grabbed from behind, held tight while someone placed a foul smelling cloth across his face, and he passed out!

Eyes covered, hands secured behind his back, and completely naked when he awoke, Malachi lay on a bed or at the very least a couch or padded table of some sort. He was no longer outside, but inside – somewhere! Malachi tried to move, but discovered his body was very weak, with little strength to do anything. There was a strange taste on his tongue, his stomach rumbled, and his bowels felt as if they'd been invaded and emptied, and he had a massive hard-on.

A voice, near his face, said, "We see you are awake, our young, beautiful, virgin playmate! Let's have a better look at you!" and the person behind the voice began stroking his cock and fondling his balls.

"Nice- so very nice."

"Where am I?" Malachi croaked through his dry throat.

"Why you're with us, in our little playhouse, safe from any discovery, and here to provide for our pleasure and entertainment."

"What are you going to do to me?" Malachi asked, fear and anxiety causing his voice to tremble.

"Why, sweet boy," the voice answered lustily with confident satisfaction, "we're going to fuck you and fuck you until we are satisfied or our little gathering must disband for the weekend."

"What do you mean us?"

"The gathering of men in this room who are watching as I stroke your hard cock and play with your rather large balls," the voice paused, as he was encouraged by soft background voices to stroke Malachi more slowly.

Laughing, almost cackling, the voice continued, "We've cleaned you out and given you some medication to keep you hard and make you want to be fucked, so fucked you shall be."

Malachi began to sob, coughing out, "Why me?"

"Because we paid a goodly sum for a virgin boy and you're it! Don't cry- yet, there'll be time for that later. You'll not be indiscriminately fucked – at first. We had our little auction and the highest bidder gets to pop your virgin ass and take your cherry. After him, the next higher bidder gets his turn, and so on down the line until all have had their first time, then it's anyone's pleasure at any time."

Malachi's face changed from the sadness he exhibited to despair, hurt, anger, and helplessness, as his eyes pleaded with me. Stroking his face gently, I cautioned him gently, "You don't have to tell me what happened."

"I need to," he pleaded desperately, tears flooding his eyes, cascading down his cheeks in rivulets onto my hand, "you have to understand the horrors, the fear, and how they conquered me, shamed me as I submitted!"

Strong arms loosened his bonds and hauled him up, leaned him over a small table, secured his arms in front of him, spread his legs and tied them in place, exposing his backside to all in the room and available for his first rapist to begin. No matter how much he screamed, pleaded, begged them not to let this happen, his voice reached seemingly deaf ears. He was purchased for the sole purpose of giving his abductors sexual pleasure.

"Someone stood in front of me, holding my shoulders, his hard cock brushing my face and my lips. I had every expectation of being raped from both ends at once! I felt a man wiggle in between my legs, scooch himself forward until the head of his cock nudged my asshole. I begged even louder and then cursed him an all of them for their viciousness and lack of compassion, to no avail."

With one hard, push, as Malachi shrieked in pain, the man buried his cock balls deep in Malachi's rectum, tearing, stretching the anal ring of muscles in order to accommodate his girth, amid loud cheering from his fellows as being the first to breach the virgin teen "boy cunt," as one reveler shouted.

"He pumped faster and faster as he fucked me!" Malachi sobbed all the harder as he relayed to me the pain and shame he felt. "I don't know what happened, Scooter, but I came; I shot my load all over the floor. Did I like it that much or what?"

Before I could answer him and tell him only what I knew concerning how anal sex could make someone ejaculate, he answered it himself.

"His cock kept hitting a spot inside me, stimulating me, and I reasoned, even as drugged as I was, he was rubbing my prostate. It wasn't long until I felt his cock swell and he shoved forward, hard, and shot his wad up into my guts! For god's sake, Scooter, he was fucking me bareback!"

Malachi's first rapist pulled out and another took his place, also fucking him bareback. The man holding his head, held a bottle under Malachi's nose and as he continued to screech in pain, inhaled the fumes, and the pain seemed to lessen, as well as his resistance! The bottle was removed and replaced with a hard cock, quickly shoved into his mouth where the man ejaculated, forcing Malachi to swallow or drown!

One after another of the men took their turns while Malachi's backside was available. Eventually he was turned over on his back, carried to another table of some sort, where his arms were again secured, but his legs were spread apart and placed in some sort of holders. He reasoned it was similar to an examination table found in a doctor's office. The parade of rapist began again, although, since they'd found release already, they were slower to reach their peak this time and took more time. Malachi would dose off, but would awaken to find another man busy either sucking him off or lodged deep inside his butt, thumping away!

"Soon, it became only something to endure, I was so numb in spirit and sore in body. I could feel stuff leaking from my behind and as sore as I was, I knew it just had to be blood mixed with their cock snot! I wondered what I'd done to deserve this and sometimes, blamed myself for dressing the way I did at work. I was almost convinced this gang rape was all my fault."

"But it wasn't," I said determinedly, angry someone would do this to another human being, "those assholes bought you for no other reason to use you as a sex slave! They are …."

Malachi interrupted me; "I know; at some point I became determined they wouldn't break me."

The orgy ended sometime, he couldn't remember when, only the same voice who introduced him to the mob, wakened him.

"Party's over and it's time for you to leave!"

Strong arms slipped his jeans back on him, gave him a sniff of something, sending him off into dreamland. This time he awoke in the back of car and was pulled from it by two of his captors. The mysterious voice said, "Now we wait."

"For what?" Malachi asked, fearful of his fate, wondering if he was going to be killed here or somewhere else.

"For a buyer," the voice said. "We intend to re-coop our investment. If you're lucky, you might be sold to someone in the States; if not, someone from overseas. Either way, they'll fuck you until they tire of you and then put you to work on the streets earning your keep."

"I didn't think I had anything to lose at this point, so, I asked if they brought my medicine!"

When he was asked what medicine, Malachi named a couple of HIV drugs. One of his captors shouted angrily, "No way, you were a guaranteed virgin, free from disease; never been fucked! You lie!"

Malachi smiled with a mocking sneer saying, "Maybe my ass was virgin, but I'd been trading blow jobs with guys since I was thirteen. I've been infected for almost two years now. So, for you and all your buddies who fucked or sucked me, welcome to the club."

"That's when they started beating me! The next time I woke up, it was in the hospital a couple of days letter, trussed up like a Christmas goose in casts and bandages, a cop outside my room door, and charged with prostitution!"

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