(Trigger warning, the story contains scenes of a CNC nature and dark themes.)
Camie had no idea how long he’d been sitting there. The rusted swing creaked softly beneath him, rocking in slow, absent-minded motions while the sky above Glasgow shifted from pale grey to the muted orange haze of early evening. His thoughts were a complete snarl. Every time he tried to straighten one out, another crashed into it. Arthur.
People had drifted through the park throughout the afternoon. Dog walkers. Teenagers cutting through on bikes. Mothers with prams. A few passing glances lingered on Camie longer than he liked, but nobody said anything. Nobody bothered him.
The noise reached the park before the boys did. Loud voices. Bursts of laughter. Glass clinking against glass. Five local young team lads swaggered along the pavement bordering the back fence of the park, all trackies, crossbody bags, and cheap bravado. Nike. Adidas. Air Max trainers scraping against the pavement. One of them swigged openly from a bottle of Buckfast before passing it to the next.
They looked about eighteen to twenty-one, the sort of boys who acted invincible in groups and cruel for sport. And Camie, completely lost in his own head, didn’t notice a thing. Not when they slowed down at the fence. Not when one of them elbowed another and pointed. Not even when the shouting started.
“Hooooaaaw, doll face!” one of them barked in a thick Glasgow accent. “Whit you dain sittin lookin aw depressed fur when ye look that good, eh? Another whistled sharply. “Jesus Christ, look at the state ae that body. Yer drivin ma cock mental, hen!” The group erupted into ugly laughter. “Aye, Deano, she’s no even lookin at ye!” one of the others cackled. “Canny even pull a lass sittin alone in a park. That’s brutal.”
“Here, hen!” another shouted louder, voice rough and aggressive. “Why ye aw dressed up like that if ye no lookin fur attention? C’mon tae fuck.” Still Camie didn’t react. The words barely registered through the fog in his head. That seemed to irritate them more. The tallest of the group took another swig of Buckfast before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Who the fuck does this wee cow think she is? Ignorin us?”
“Aye,” another sneered. “Ye canny come out lookin like that, turn aw the lads oan, then act pure offended when folk speak tae ye.” The mood shifted then. Subtly. The joking edge curdled into something uglier. “Maybe she needs a bit ae encouragement.” Before Camie could even realise what was happening, two of them vaulted the park fence. Then another. Then the rest. Only when trainers scraped across the bark chips near the swings did Camie finally jolt back to reality. His head snapped up. Three of them were already standing directly in front of him. His stomach dropped violently. He twisted around in panic only to find the other two behind him, blocking the path back toward the street. For the first time all day, Camie’s mind became perfectly, horribly clear. The boy in the centre stepped closer, squaring his shoulders with a nasty grin stretched across his face.
“Wits wrong, doll face?” he growled. “Think yer too good fur us?” Camie immediately pushed himself upright from the swing, pulse beginning to hammer in his ears. Up close they looked worse. Drunk. Aggressive. The kind of boys who fed off each other’s cruelty. “Look,” Camie said quickly, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his chest, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I really need to go.” He took a step forward. And that was when the lad directly in front of him looked down. His expression changed instantly. The smirk vanished. Something colder replaced it. His eyes locked onto the faint bulge beneath Camie’s clothes. For half a second, silence hung over the group. Then the leader’s face twisted with pure malice. “Grab him.” The words came out sharp and immediate.
Before Camie could react, the two behind him lunged forward. One seized his wrist in a crushing grip while the other yanked hard on one of his braids, jerking his head back painfully. Another hand clamped around his other arm. Camie gasped sharply, panic detonating in his chest as his entire body locked up.
“Please!” he blurted desperately, struggling against them as fear surged hot through his veins. “Please, come on, man, just let me go! I won’t say anything, I swear!”
But the boys only laughed. “Bring him wae us!” The Leader growled with a malicious smirk as he begun to head out of the park. Camie begin thrashing trying to resist and even begin yelling “HELP!!!! HELP!!!!! GET THE FUCK OFF ME HELP!!!!” But that wasn’t wise… not wise at all. At that the remaining 2 boys pulled out very large knifes from the back waistband of their trackies, pointing them at his throat Camie swallowed hard as one of the boys hissed “Shut the fuck up faggot or I’ll do some cosmetic surgery on ye pussy boy!”. Dragging Camie kicking and struggling out of the park the boys lead him behind the nearby block of small convenience stores and bakeries which were all now closed for the night.
Pulled into the disgusting smelling back alley behind the stores Camie’s eyes were beginning to fill with tears as fear flooded his body in a paralysing wave. Pulled over to in front of a dumpster, Camie was forced to his knees by the boys holding his braids and arms. As his knees hit the ground he watch as one boy rummaged around the dumpster, causing the inhabitant rats to scurry on mass in different directions away from the group, after a minute he would pull out multiple thick black zipties. Within an instant the kneeling camie had his ankles zip tied together and his wrists zip tied behind his back… it was becoming very abundantly clear to Camie that escape was not even remotely an option now.
So he begged… “please you don’t understand!! Its a big misunderstanding dude! I don’t wanna be a woman… I’m not even gay!!! Please don’t do this!! Let me go and I’ll never tell anyone I swear!!” Camie whimpered as tears rolled down his cheeks. However at that the leader of this young group of hooligans stood in front of Camie and lowered the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms and like unsheathing a mighty sword there it was right in front of his face. An erect, throbbing 10 inch cock… “your gonna be whatever the fuck we tell ye tae be faggot and your gonna make us fuckin satisfied if you don’t want us to cut your worthless cock off right here in this alley wae our blades aight!!?” The leader growled as he grabbed both of Camie’s braids and pulled camie’s head into his cock. Pressing the cock against camie’s lips the boy became angered when Camie decided to refuse to part his lips, “did a not make masel clear hen?” He smirked as he unexpectedly stamped on Camie’s groin forcing the already helpless and terrified camie to let out an effeminate scream of pain which the boy capitalised on to ram his cock into camies throat.
Pain and fear completely took over for Camie, never could he say he’d ever had an out of body experience but this… this was so traumatic it simply couldn’t be helped. To Camie he appeared to be stood watching in real time as this little football roughen fucked his face hard… pounding back and forth, camie gagging, drying heaving and giving sloppy satisfaction as drool dripped from his aggressively violated mouth. Camie then watched aimless and helplessly as his body was forced to swallow the first semen it had ever tasted from the first cock he’d ever had in his mouth… and what could he do to stop it? Nothing.
Watching on in horror at his body being abused camie watched as an hour of sexual abuse unfolded before his eyes and all of it happening to him. After the first boy the second unzipped camie’s jumpsuit down to belly button area and masturbated in from of Camie’s face until he shot his warm sticky excessive load onto camie’s bare chest and zipped the jumpsuit back up leaving the disgustingness in the jumpsuit with him. Camie’s ghostly out of body self watched in disgust unable to do anything but he watched as his real body could to nothing but scream and whale in a simply pathetic display from a man. The third boy stepped up and simply decided he wanted to be masochistic, he spent a solid 15 minutes stamping on Camies groin, slapping him hard across the face and even forcing Camie’s head down further so he could take a piss into camie’s hair. That one truly disgusted Camie beyond all else so far and that boys face was one Camie swore he’d remember. Next came the fourth boy who thought himself hilarious to make camie gag on his cock until just before orgasm then pulling his cock out and shooting his load at Camie’s forehead, leaving an abundance of warm thick pungent smelling semen to trickle down Camie’s face. The fifth and final boy decided to also face fuck Camie using his now disheveled braids as reins with with to keep camie from pulling away, however as he had his cock service this one spoke to the others “No gonna lie tae ye boys, know its a faggot n that but a hink he just gag this burd n take her back tae the boss’s hoose? Ye know keep her as a toy ye know? Like a sex doll but wae a pulse n that makes good noises?” And for a moment they all entertained conversation on the subject before the man with his cock in Camie’s mouth held up his finger as though asking for quiet and in that moment shot his load onto camies tongue as he slid his cock out.
The roar of the engine however shattered the silence behind the shops. Tyres screamed against wet concrete as Arthur’s car swung violently into the narrow service lane, headlights flooding the alley in harsh white light. A cluster of figures scattered instantly. “Oi—!” One of them turned, shielding his eyes, another bolting outright. A third hesitated just long enough for Arthur to slam the door open and step out “Get the hell away from him!” The command cracked through the air. For a split second it looked like one of them might square up.
Then the car’s headlights, the sudden intrusion, the sheer force in Arthur’s voice broke whatever bravado they had left. They peeled off in different directions, disappearing between the bins and service doors, shoes slapping against concrete as they fled. Arthur took a step after one of them… Stopped. Because he heard it.
A small, broken sound behind him. He turned. And everything in him dropped. Camie was on his knees, his ankles and wrists restrained. Right in the spill of the headlights. For a second Arthur didn’t even move. It was like his brain refused to process what he was seeing.
The pink jacket hung crooked off one shoulder, half twisted as if it had been grabbed. The front of the jumpsuit was no longer neat, zipped not fully up the way it was when he left the house, fabric dark with dampness from the semen beneath and creased like it had been handled aggressively. One of the braids had come loose at the top, his head soaked in pungent smelling piss and cum, clinging messily around his face.
His posture wasn’t just tired. It was collapsed. Shoulders caved inward. Hands slack behind his back. Head slightly bowed like even holding it up was too much effort. He wasn’t looking at Arthur.
He wasn’t looking at anything. Just… staring somewhere low and distant, like he hadn’t fully come back yet. Tears tracked silently down his face, catching in the faint tremble of his jaw. Arthur’s chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt.
“Camie…” He said it quietly. Carefully. Like anything louder might break him. No response. Arthur moved closer, slower now, hands half raised like he was approaching something fragile.
“Hey… hey, it’s me.” Still nothing. Just that same empty, unfocused stare. Arthur swallowed hard, forcing his voice steadier than he felt. “You’re alright. I’ve got you. They’re gone.” That got something. Not a full reaction. Just the faintest flinch. Arthur crouched in front of him, lowering himself to eye level, but not forcing eye contact.
“Can you hear me?” A pause. Then, barely “…yeah.” The word was thin. Strained. Like it had to fight its way out. Arthur nodded immediately, relief flickering across his face even as his jaw tightened. “Good. Good. That’s good.”
He quickly cut the zip ties to free Camie before slipping his jacket off without hesitation and draped it gently around Camie’s shoulders, careful not to startle him. “Here. Just— just take this.” Camie didn’t resist. Didn’t really react at all. Arthur adjusted it lightly, pulling it closed around him, his hands deliberate and slow, making sure every movement was visible, predictable. “No one’s touching you. You’re alright.” Camie’s fingers curled weakly into the fabric. Arthur noticed that. Held onto it. “Yeah. That’s it.”
For a moment he just stayed there, crouched in front of him, grounding the situation, making his presence known without overwhelming him. Then, softer “Can you stand?” A pause. Camie hesitated. Then gave the smallest nod. Arthur moved carefully, one hand hovering near his arm, not grabbing, just there if needed.
“Alright. I’ve got you. Take your time.” Camie pushed himself up, unsteady, and Arthur stepped in immediately when he swayed, catching him by the arms. “Easy— easy.” He didn’t pull him in tight. Didn’t trap him. Just supported him enough to keep him upright. “Got you.” Camie leaned into it more than he probably realised. Arthur felt it. His expression shifted. Something protective. Fierce. Quiet. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”Camie’s voice came out hoarse. “…home.” Arthur nodded immediately. “Yeah. Home.” No argument. No questions.
He guided him toward the car, one hand steady at his back, the other keeping the jacket wrapped around him. When they reached the passenger side, Arthur opened the door and paused “Alright… I’m just going to help you sit, okay?”
A small nod. Arthur moved slowly, easing him down into the seat, making sure he was comfortable before stepping back. Then he reached in, pulling the seatbelt across him carefully, not rushing, not crowding. “There we go.” Camie’s head tilted back slightly against the headrest, eyes still unfocused. Arthur shut the door gently. Walked around to the driver’s side. And just before getting in, He stopped. Hands braced briefly on the roof of the car. Head bowed. For a second, the anger came through. Sharp. Dangerous. Controlled only by effort. Then it was gone. Buried.
Because right now, That wasn’t what mattered. He got in, started the engine again, and pulled away from the alley without another word. For a few minutes, there was only the sound of the road. Then, quieter, “…do you want me to call someone?” Camie shook his head almost immediately. Too quickly. “No.” Arthur glanced over, then back to the road. “Police?” Another shake. “…no.” A pause. Then, barely above a whisper “Just… take me home.” Arthur’s grip on the wheel tightened. “…okay.” No pressure. No pushing. Just, “Home it is.” The car continued through the quiet streets, the city lights passing in soft blurs across the windows.
Arthur didn’t look at him again. Not because he didn’t want to, But because right now, Camie didn’t need to be watched. He needed to be given space. And for once, Arthur gave it.
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