Prize resisted. March smacked his face. Prize tried to escape. Halden held him in place by the arms. Prize showed his teeth and March and Halden inserted leather-covered blocks in his mouth so he could not bite down. His jaw was held open. Leather straps buckled behind his head. March forced his penis into Prize's mouth. It tasted of dirt and urine.
And the three of them taught Prize to lick and suck as he was licked and sucked. Miss Liz guided him, demonstrated each move on March. Helped Prize mirror her movements. Each failure to master a tongue flick was followed by Halden's heavy strap sending ribbons of fire along Prize's back or chest. He learned to send March over the edge. He learned to tease. He learned to swallow his cum. He learned to keep his mouth soft. In time the blocks were removed.
Prize suffered Halden's beatings and March's humiliations. He repeated his life story in the whorehouse where his mother sold him. He learned his lessons from Miss Liz. How to lick and suck. When to use his teeth. How to open to pain and pleasure. How to be left wanting and incomplete. How to please without being pleased. How to relieve his pain by giving pleasure.
Mrs. Featherwink walked with a lighter step. She exuded calm. She fell asleep early each morning counting money in her mind. Her future was secure.
During a quiet time upstairs as the whores and extraspecials moved alone to their beds, March entered the cell. Prize struggled to his feet to accept Cruel's instructions. He was told to kneel. Cruel shoved Prize's chest to the cold floor and told him to push his ass in the air. He grabbed the manacled hands and pulled back and up. He kicked Prize's legs apart and positioned his legs between them, holding them spread. Prize panicked and struggled. Cruel pulled back harder on the manacles. Prize felt a cold hand on his buttocks. His crease was stroked. A finger played with his anus. It pushed at the clenched ring. Prize gasped and struggled harder. He tried to fall to his belly and drop his ass. The finger withdrew. Pants opened. Cruel ran his engorged penis down the soft skin between Prize's cheeks. He spit and pushed at the anus. He spit again. Prize screamed and bucked. He only succeeded in pushing himself against Cruel.
The cell door bounced off the wall as Brutal entered. He kicked March in the side. He pulled him from Prize. He shouted and smashed his boot into March in the face. The strap fell as he was dragged out the door. March never entered the cell alone again. Prize never practiced Miss Liz's lessons on March again. Brutal took his place.
But March wasn't gone. During the quiet hours he positioned himself at the cell door and talked to Prize. He told him what he wanted to do to him. What he would do to him. He told him where he was going. He told him a rich man would buy him, and when he tired, he'd sell him. And when the next man was done with him, he would be sold again. In time he there would be a whore house and many men. After that, when he was no longer young enough or pretty enough, the Turtle waited. He told him of being tied to a fuck bench. Of the return of the wooden mouth blocks or removal of his teeth. He told him about bottles, whip handles, iron rods, devices with bulbous heads. He told him how he planned to take him. He told him how he planned to shove his fist up Prize's ass. He told him how patrons would bet on how long it would take him to cum. He talked of blood and animals. He said all this in the lisp he developed after Halden kicked out three of his teeth. He talked until Prize sobbed. He talked until Prize's mind went white with fear. And Prize turned his face to the rough stone wall, dropped the handkerchief, and prayed for death.
* * *
Halden gave him a beating like none before. Prize gasped out his lessons. He pleaded his history and still the belt descended on his back and legs. He cursed his mother. He begged Halden to let him please him. Prize crawled to meet the blows hoping to do the one thing that would appease Halden. He presented his ass. He lay supine and lifted and spread his legs. The belt licked at his inner thighs. He pushed his ass up to meet the belt. Anything to find the right thing to make it stop. His hands were freed. He wrapped his arms around Halden's upper legs and pressed his cheek against his crotch. And the belt fell on his back. He pushed out his buttocks and the belt continued to fall. He pushed his lips to the rising bulge in the trousers and the beating continued. He was pulled back by the hair. A collar of thick leather clicked tightly around his neck.
"Your auction number." Halden let an iron disk fall on Prize's neck.
A warm enema bag was pushed into his hands. He fumbled to insert the nozzle. He cleaned himself as Halden watched, tapping the belt in his hand. He met his eyes. He parted his lips and opened his mouth as Miss Liz had taught him to entice Halden. The warm water filled him. He expelled it on the floor and filled himself again. Halden smiled. He ran his middle finger along the inside of Prize's lower lip. Prize maneuvered it into his mouth and sucked. It tasted of grease and dirt. Halden handed him a second bag. Prize smelled lemons. He spread his cheeks with trembling fingers. He fingered his own asshole to help relax the sphincter. He cleaned his rectum twice more. A tub was brought into the room. He stood and let Halden wash him with a rough cloth. He spread his legs. His penis and balls were soaped. The strokes were practiced and firm. The picture of a fine horse being washed by grooms in the stable yard flashed in his mind. He stepped shivering from the tub and stood as Halden rained blows on his chest.
He was left dazed on clean straw. He was not fed.
In the early morning quiet, light from a bull's-eye lantern caused him to recoil. He began his litany and a hand was clamped across his mouth. He put up a protective arm. A blanket was draped over his bruised shoulders. He was pushed to the door. He recoiled at the threshold and was half dragged half carried into the corridor. Up cold steps. Another door opened. Chill early morning air. An open carriage door. Had he looked up, Prize would have glimpsed Halden swathed in a great cloak, sitting in the coachman's seat.
He fell to the floor. He saw good boots and trousers made of fine cloth. The door shut and the horses made the carriage jump as they clattered down the alley. He waited on the floor his legs pulled to his chest.
"You are rescued," came a well modulated voice from the darkness above. A blanket was adjusted to cover him.
