The Pigtown Chronicles: Chapter 3.14 – Mercy in the Darkness

For Jimmy, time was counted in the silence between each strike of the flogger, between the hollow scream of the shade, and the next thud of the leather on flesh, or whatever passed for flesh on Marlon’s body. No, not Marlon. This thing was not Marlon. Just a shadow, just an imposter, just a fraud. Jimmy had never wielded a flogger before, and in his haphazard strikes, he often struck himself in the process. The sharp sting of the leather was enough to remind him of his own gullibility, his inaction, the weakness of his love. The darkness of the prison never changed, there was no sign of dawn, or day, just the perpetual twilight of the lamps in the cavernous space. He’d lost count of the strikes several times now, but he had to be close to a thousand hits. His muscles were aching, but each time he struck the shade it would reform, look a little less like Marlon, a little less like anyone at all, and that was enough to push him onward, to keep hitting him, and if the pommel of the flogger hadn’t come loose and fallen off, he might have have never stopped. It did fall off though, and on the next swing, with his grip loosened by fatigue and sweat, the flogger flew from his hand, bounced off Marlon’s shoulder, and landed behind the cross a few yards off.

Jimmy let his arms hang for a moment, sweat dripping from him, and stared at the shade, who stared back. The look from the shade was still furious and angry, but the fear was more present now, and when Jimmy saw that, a flutter of pleasure shot through him, enough that his cock got hard, and he pulled back, tried to rein himself in, tried to figure out what he was even doing.

He was alone, aside from the shade. At some point, the Warden and the other two guards must have left him there to his own devices. He didn’t understand why they would have left him, or where they might have gone–the guards had restrained him, after all, and now he was completely unsupervised. 

“Well, come on then Mr. Guard, you’re not finished already, are you?” the shade said. Like his face, it resembled Marlon’s, but was no longer quite perfect. 

Jimmy looked over at the shade, and scowled at him. “Why did you call me that?”

The shade laughed at him, and the rush of anger in his chest, running all the way up the back of his spine, and then down to his cock and balls, confused him. He didn’t like feeling confused, he didn’t like this…this prisoner laughing at him. He should punish him, beat him, fuck him, torture him–

Jimmy shook his head, the intrusive thoughts nearly overwhelming him. He gripped his head in his hands, felt just how large they were on his face, pulled them away and looked down. This was wrong–his arms were wrong. Jimmy had never been a muscular kid, just a low effort twink really, but the forearms he was staring down at were bulging with muscle, as were the biceps, and they were hairy, and this wasn’t his body, it couldn’t be his.

“You’re one of them now,” the shade said, “You might as well just accept it. No one gets out of this prison–no one other than Shadow, I suppose, but that was an exception, I think. I wanted to drain you myself, but we can’t always get what we want. Knowing that you’re trapped here, same as me though, I can live with that, mostly.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jimmy said, his voice gruff and deeper. Was that from the shouts and hollers he could remember leaving his throat while he’d been wielding the flogger, or was it really different? There was no mirror anywhere that he could see, but running his hands over his face, feeling the stubble verging on beard, the angular jaw beneath that, the heavy brow, the short cropped hair, he could feel what he would see well enough. “I don’t…want to hurt you, I just wanted him back, but you…you took him from me, and–”

“I did. I took him from you. You want vengeance. Come on then, let’s get this over with.”

Jimmy did want to hurt him, badly. Wanted to flay him until he no longer looked human, until he was just a quivering pile of shadow, shapeless, something they could throw in a cage and forget about until it acted up again, and then they’d beat it again, over and over, until…

The thought faded away. The pain was the point. The torture was the purpose. That’s what his thoughts were telling him, but he still had enough of himself there to question it, push back against it. He didn’t see where that would lead, didn’t know what that would get him. Certainly not satisfaction or justice. The shade was saying these things, goading him on, but for all his projected confidence, the shade was terrified. Jimmy could smell it on him, and while part of him was hungry for that fear, he also found it curious. He stepped closer, looking at the shade now, at how Marlon’s face was still there, but a bit off, no longer symmetrical, no longer perfect. But still his, still the young man Jimmy had loved. He took the shade’s face in his hands, leaned in and kissed him on the lips, tenderly at first, then pushing his tongue in like he always had with Marlon. For a moment, the shade reciprocated, and then turned his face away. “What are you doing? Why would you do that?”

“I loved him. You were part of him, so I…think I would have loved you too, and you were part of him, and I think, you love me a little too, or a part of me. If I hurt you, if you lose…his face, then he’ll be gone, forever.” He used one thick hand to bring the shade’s face back over, so it faced him. “I would never want to hurt him, and so, I don’t think I want to hurt you either.”

He kissed the shade again, and he resisted for a moment, and then relented, pushing back, just like Marlon would have, Jimmy coming closer and pressing his cock against the shade’s own, feeling them throb together, when a hand landed on his shoulder and hauled him away. Jimmy lurched around and found himself facing the Warden, his face furious, and he laid a heavy slap across Jimmy’s face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, guard?”

“I–I’m not–” another slap, this one hard enough to send him stumbling back a couple of steps, cheek red and stinging. He licked his lips, and tasted a bit of blood from where a ring on the Warden’s finger had bit into his flesh.

“Apparently I was too optimistic in leaving you unsupervised. You seemed to be coming along so nicely. Pick up the whip, and punish that fucking shade, guard.”

The thoughts in his head grew more intense, almost a scream, the hatred behind them heating up his chest like a furnace. He nearly grabbed the whip, desperate to push it out of him, away from him, at anyone else. If he held onto it all, surely it would kill him, he would catch flame and burn to a cinder. He resisted though, he didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially not that last bit of Marlon that still remained, not that, anything but that. The fever broke after a moment, and he could see with mostly clear eyes again. The Warden seethed, picked up the whip himself, but instead of turning it on the shade, he cracked it across Jimmy’s chest, raising a red welt and a line of blood down one hairy pec and part of his belly. He shouted in pain, spun around in time for the next strike to land across his back, and he screamed in agony.

“I have no patience for guards who will not do their duty down here. If you won’t wield the whip, then you’ll be under it, do you understand?”

The Warden came up to him, and shoved the handle into his hand. “Use it. Punish the thing, it deserves it, you know it does.”

Jimmy turned to face the shade again, the anger welling up, even more powerful, washing so much away with it. He closed his eyes, and cracked it across the shade’s body, leaving a deep gash down the front that took a moment to heal entirely. It hurt though. It hurt just as much as when the whip had been turned on him, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t keep doing this. He would be here forever. All around him, he could hear the screams of men being tortured, the laughs and moans and grunts of the guards thrilling in it. He raised the whip again, then tossed it to the side and rushed forward, grabbing at the restraints holding the shade to the cross. They were simple buckles, unsecured with locks thankfully, and he got one arm free before the Warden grabbed him and dragged him back, throwing him to the floor. That was enough for the shade to phase out, sliding free of the rest in a matter of moments, before the Warden could grab his light. The shade was gone into the darkness, and Jimmy chuckled.

“You fucking–do you have any idea how fucking valuable those are down here!” the Warden shouted, rolling Jimmy over onto his back. “Flesh–flesh can only take so much, but those things, we can beat them, over and over, and they always come back, fresh and vibrant–and the screams!” He spit in Jimmy’s face, and his hands wrapped around his neck, closing tight, “You’ll be in a cage then, you’ll be my personal punching bag from now on, you’ll regret this for the rest of your life, you’ll–”

That was the last thing that Jimmy heard, before the darkness shrouded him, and he was gone.

At first, he thought he’d been choked out. He was awake, though, and the darkness around him wasn’t a void–it was textured, and there, a short distance from him, was the shade. “He loved you, you know. I loved you too, both of you, shade and man,” he said. “You freed me, I freed you. We’re even.”

The darkness opened up underneath him, and Jimmy landed on the pavement below hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He rolled over onto his back and there the shade was, standing over him. The look in his eyes was pure hunger, desire, lust. Then he was gone, and Jimmy was left in a strange alley, alone. From the look of the sky, it was just past twilight. Not dawn though–evening from where the remains of the sun glinted in the windows over him. He tried to stand up, but the exhaustion overwhelmed him at last. The pavement didn’t make for comfortable sleep, but he passed out all the same, unprepared for the Pigtown hangover that awaited him the next morning.

Frat Daddy – Interlude #1 (Carter)

So, given the answers on the last survey, I found that the chapters were going to be too rushed if I tried to fit everything in, but I was also a bit hesitant to have this story turn into some massive monstrosity. That said, I’ve been getting good feedback on it, I’ve been enjoying it, and so I figured I might as well embrace it and just let it get larger until I get a bit sick of it. This is the first interlude in the story, which are little asides, as Daddy takes the boys, one or two at a time, and gives them some private sessions of various kinds. There won’t be any surveys after these interludes, only after the chunks that advance the narrative further. I considered making some of these interludes Patron Only, but for now, I’ll go ahead and post them publicly.


On Friday night, the boys lined up in the living room, and Daddy came before them and considered them all quietly. None of the young men quite knew how to feel about this. Daddy had told them that, each weekend, he would select one or two boys to spend the weekend with him at his house next door, but it wasn’t clear whether this would be considered a punishment or a reward. 

“Carter, come along with me. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Carter gulped, but at the same time, he found himself…excited. Ever since that moment in the bathroom, where he’d allowed Daddy to cut off all of his hair, he’d found himself adrift, no longer sure of who he was, or what he was doing, or who he was becoming. But one thing he knew for sure, was that he would follow Daddy wherever he lead him. Daddy had apparently sensed the same thing in him, or perhaps something else. Carter followed him down into the basement, through the tunnel connecting the two houses together, and back up into Daddy’s home. Carter was scared, but doing his best to not show it too badly. Daddy saw his nerves, and pulled him into a hug. 

“No need to fret tonight. We’ll have dinner, have a smoke, talk a bit. Tomorrow, I have something special planned however. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Daddy cooked for them both. It was strange, seeing the figure who had spent all week dominating them doing something so domestic and ordinary. It was also the first real food that Carter had tasted in a week. The shakes from the machine weren’t bad–but they also weren’t this delicious. Regardless of what might come tomorrow, he would at least relish this. After they’d eaten, they adjourned to Daddy’s smoking room lined with humidors, smoked a cigar together, and spoke. Well, Daddy asked Carter questions, and he answered them as best he could. Questions about his youth, about his family, about manhood, about what he wanted. Questions that Carter couldn’t really answer anymore. He’d grown up in a rather free spirited family, independently wealthy, one of two children with enough freedom that they could both pursue whatever they wanted. He’d thought he’d wanted that freedom–the hair had been an expression of that, certainly. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

They finished their smokes, and Carter expected Daddy to ravage him at last, but instead, he led him to a guest room, and told him to sleep well. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, and he’d need his sleep. Carter didn’t think he’d be able to sleep at all, but was surprised that, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, and didn’t wake up until Daddy knocked on his door the next morning. They ate a light breakfast, but the nerves had returned, and Carter found it hard to eat, wondering what Daddy had in store for him today. He knew better than to ask–Daddy would tell him when he was ready for Carter to know.

Then, Daddy spoke to him, said…something, and Carter…couldn’t recall what happened next. But when he was next aware of what was happening to him, he was in darkness–total darkness. He was upright, his hands shackled and strung to the ceiling with chains, from what he could hear. His legs also had shackles on them, with a bar between them, keeping them spread apart, and also bolted to the floor. There was light then, and…Daddy walked in, but not…not Daddy. He wasn’t Daddy right now. Right now…he was Sarge. The leather uniform was gone, replaced by a pair of fatigues, combat boots, and a cap. 

Ethan stepped into the room, took a drag on his cigar, and admired the boy for a moment where he was suspended in the middle of his dungeon. Carter was a handsome man, well built, with a small coating of hair on his chest and a modest bush around a sizable cock, and a heavy sack below. He was looking at him now, eyes wide with something between fear and helpless arousal, as he tried to take in what was happening to him now. “I…Sarge…” he said, and the word sent a jolt right to Ethan’s cock, “What am I doing here?”

“What you told me last night, Cadet, none of that surprises me. You lack structure and discipline. You crave it, but without a real man giving it to you, you have become shaggy and overgrown, both outside and inside. I’m going to train you into something new, into a proper man–isn’t that what you want boy?”

Ethan had stepped into the room, and as he spoke, ran a hand along Carter’s stomach, bulging a bit from his new diet, but still plenty firm. Carter flinched at the touch, and then shuddered a bit as the hand came around to his back, was joined by another one, and ran down the whole of his back down to his ass, groping and pinching enough to make him wince slightly. “I…I don’t know, Sir…”

“Why did you let me cut your hair, cadet?”

“Because…in the mirror. I…I didn’t want to become that…that person.”

“And what did you see in the mirror? What scared you more there, than the prospect of me cutting off that beautiful hair,” Ethan said, and ran his hand over Ethan’s scalp, feeling the young man shudder again, his young cock pulsing slightly. 

“I…I was old.”

“Everyone gets old,” Ethan said, and gave Carter a sharp slap on the ass, making him gasp, “What did you see! Be honest boy.”

“He…he was a loser, Sir.”

Another sharp smack, another gasp.

“He didn’t have anything left! There…there was nothing, I don’t know what you want me to say Sir, I don’t know, I just…I couldn’t…”

Ethan stepped around, and looked the boy in the eye. Carter flinched like Ethan had struck him again, and dropped his eyes almost immediately. 

“He…you…I didn’t want to look like that Sir. I…wanted to be like you. He looked like he had no control, over anything. But you…Sir…you can control…anyone. I…I want that.”

“Then the first thing you have to learn, Cadet, is self-control,” Ethan said, grabbed hold of Ethan’s nipples in his hands, and tightened the pinch slowly. Almost immediately, Carter began to groan and try and twist away, but Ethan was relentless, tightening, and twisting, with a slight pull, until Carter was begging him to stop–but Ethan just held him there, until he looked at him again, and he saw the fear in his eyes.

“You have no control here. I can do whatever I want to you. You have no choice but to submit to me. The one thing you can control here, is yourself. Your anger. Your pain. Your pleasure. Your fear. Master all of those, and there is nothing I can do to you that will touch you.” Ethan released his tits then, and Carter sighed, and Ethan grabbed hold of Carter’s cock in one hand–and Carter realized he was…hard. Rock hard.

“You seem to have betrayed yourself, Cadet. Do you like having those tits of yours tortured?” Ethan said, and while one hand stroked the young man’s cock slowly, he twisted one tit again…and this time, Carter felt something unexpected. There was pleasure twisted up with the pain now, and he gasped, unsure of which sensation brought it forth. His cock spasmed, and precum shot from the head all over the back of Ethan’s hand. He pulled it away, and wiped it across Carter’s face. “Today, I’m going to show you something else. I’m going to show you just how little control you have over yourself. It will be up to you, do decide if you want to develop the will after that.”

Carter tried to reply, but Ethan pushed a gag into his mouth, secured it around the back of his head, and began. He started with his tits–pumping them first, and then when Carter was moaning, a puddle of precum collecting underneath him, he tugged the pumps off, clipped each of them, and added a weight. His balls were next. Ethan tugged them away from Carter’s body, secured a leather parachute around them, and began adding weight, little by little, until Carter was dribbling pre in an almost constant stream, begging Sarge for release–unsure if he was begging him to allow him to cum, or begging him to let him go, because the pain was growing more excruciatingly exciting. 

Sarge stepped back and admired his work, the boy’s body slick with sweat now, breath quick, cock hard and red and angry and eager to shoot–but not yet. No, not yet. He picked up a paddle from the wall, went around behind him, and went to work on the boy’s ass, each swat causing his body to jolt forward, his the weight on his balls and tits swinging away from him, picking up a rhythm, the boy descending into heaving, gasping, mindless emotion. “Look how easily I’ve broken you, Cadet. I’ve turned you into my little pain pig in less than an hour. I could do whatever I want to do to you, cause you any amount of pain that I want, and you’d beg for more, wouldn’t you? Doesn’t it feel good boy? Don’t you want me to hurt you more?”

Carter couldn’t speak through the gag, but he found himself nodding vigorously. He…did need more. He needed it. Sarge pulled a flogger down next, and began pounding at the boy’s back, sending shockwaves through his body, until he was shaking and shuddering, an orgasm unlike anything he’d ever experienced ripping through him, centered on his forehead, while his cock just kept leaking. Every swing while he convulsed was just more pleasure piled on top of pleasure, and when Daddy stopped swinging, Carter shook, the absence of pain somehow more painful than the beating had been. 

While the bar between his feet was bolted to the floor in the middle, it could swivel–and Sarge spun the young man around so he was facing behind him now–and again, Carter found himself face to face with a mirror, and again, the reflection looking back at him…it wasn’t his own. It was another future, and while his ego was horrified, the part of him that was growing more and more addicted to pain looked at himself in wonder. At the balls stretched down between his thighs, the scrotum covered his studs and rings. The tits tortured so much that they looked like small sausages, pierced through with six or sever rings each. His cock, no longer able to even get hard unless he was being tortured, also pierced all over. His body was completely hairless and pale, and he could see the bruises and welts from sessions with his Master. But it was the eyes that scared him the most. The acceptance, the eagerness, the anticipation. He could feel it now, welling up inside him, how you could become lost in this, if you weren’t careful. Lose yourself and never find your way back again.

“What do you think, Cadet? Do you want to become my little pain pig? Send you back to the house, make you beg all your brothers to spank you, and beat you, and fuck you until that pain addicted cock finally cums? Pierce you all over, tattoo you, make sure no one will ever be able to mistake you for a man ever again? Is that what you want?” Ethan’s hand wrapped its way around his cock and started stroking. “All you have to do is cum, pig. Cum–and I’ll make all your dreams come true.”

Fuck, it was tempting. Carter stared at the image again, and started swinging gently, feeling the weights on his tits and balls pull away from his body, making his cock stiff and ache for release, but he stopped himself. This…he could have this. He could even want this. But he didn’t. Control–he’d lost control of himself, he was allowing his pain and pleasure to rule him–but this wasn’t the kind of man that he wanted to be. This isn’t what Sarge was offering him. He stopped, took a few deep breaths, and Daddy took the gag from his mouth, allowing him to say, “No Sir. Thank you Sir, for the offer. But I don’t want to be a pig Sarge, I want to be a man, like you.”

Ethan smiled, and Carter knew he’d made the right decision. “That’s my boy–I knew you were stronger than the rest.”

Sarge kissed him then, and the tenderness shocked him, and when Sarge moved again, there was a new image in the mirror. Carter, older, muscled and hairy and strong and firm and confident and all of the things he’d always wanted to be, and Ethan kept stroking. Come on Cadet–shoot for your Sarge. You’ve fucking earned it.” 

Carter exploded at last, shooting a massive load all over the floor of the dungeon, and then Sarge embraced him, holding him tight while he collapsed against him, and he took the weights off his balls and tits, released him from the ceiling, and pulled him to the floor, where Carter shook and cried and laughed and Daddy held him tight, telling him how proud of him he was, that one day, he’d be that man in the mirror, and Daddy would do everything in his power to help him get there.

Sunday afternoon, Carter returned to the house, and while there was nothing obviously different about him, the other men could still sense a difference. He seemed…larger, somehow. Taller and broader. Whether he had actually grown, or whether it was just a matter of posture, no one could quite tell. But there was a firmness, a confidence that Carter hadn’t had, not even before all of this, when he’d had his full mane of hair. Tyler nailed it, eventually. Carter…was walking and talking and behaving like Daddy, in a way that he couldn’t quite figure out. It was…hot though. Tyler asked Carter what had happened, what Daddy had done to him, but Carter just smiled, reached out, and gave one of Tyler’s nipples a twist, making him cringe a bit. 

“Want me to show you?” he said, and Tyler nodded.