suffering soiree

“Alejandro,” Crowe greeted the man with a friendly tone and a nod of his head. “I’ve brought you the new little plaything.” Jonah winced. He didn’t like the implications of that word one bit. 

Crowe gave Jonah a shove from behind, causing him to nearly trip in the chains as he stumbled forward to catch himself. 

“Ah, so good of you to deliver him,” Alejandro’s voice was smooth and warm, almost too warm. He stepped closer, and Jonah felt his cheeks flush at the way the lantern-light illuminated the man’s face. 

Alejandro was stupidly beautiful—with caramel skin that seemed to glow in the golden gleam of the lanterns, brows that arched in perfect symmetry, and long, dark eyelashes that fluttered when he blinked down at Jonah and let his lips curl up into what Jonah might have interpreted as a comforting smile, had it not been for the devilish twinkle in his brown eyes. His hair was long, down to the middle of his spine, and he let it hang freely without the use of a ribbon to hold it back. The man’s cream-colored tunic hung loosely off his shoulders, unbuttoned down to his mid-torso. His sleeves had been rolled up to just above his elbows, revealing several gold bracelets around his wrists.

“Hello, dear Jonah,” Alejandro purred, and Jonah felt a chill run up his spine for a reason he couldn’t pin down. Perhaps it was the surprise that someone had actually addressed him by name. 

Jonah had to crane his head upwards as the man approached him, and he fidgeted with his hands, nervous to be essentially trapped between the two men who were exchanging him like he was a parcel at a postage station. Alejandro extended a hand and slowly trailed a tanned finger down the side of Jonah’s face, and Jonah felt himself shake a little as he tried not to move. He flicked his eyes down, suddenly more nervous than before. He had no idea what kind of man he would be dealing with now, and he did not want to anger him so soon. 

“Ay.. Que bonito..” the man hummed, and Jonah felt his face redden deeper as that single finger lifted beneath his chin. 

“Mírame, amor,” Alejandro said, and Jonah knew it was an order, despite the smooth and almost gentle way the man had said it. ‘Look at me,’ and Jonah did, lifting eyes to meet Alejandro’s dewy brown gaze.

Suddenly, Aljenadro broke their eye contact to look behind Jonah at Crowe, and his expression instantly narrowed to something bordering on irritation. 

“He reeks of sex, Crowe,” Alejandro said, his tone flat when he addressed the other man. “Why is that?” There was a hint of accusation in his voice now. “You know he’s not to be—”

“Yeahh, yeah,” Crowe cut him off impatiently, as if he’d been expecting this very question. “Don’t look at me. He only got that way after I left him with Jaxon,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“Pinche cabrón..” Alejandro muttered. “Can’t he fucking keep his hands to himself for once?” There was annoyance in his tone, but the warmth returned to his eyes when he looked back at Jonah. 

Alejandro’s finger traced Jonah’s jawline. “Though,” he mused, “Seeing the little thing in person, I can see why he wanted to sample a taste..”

“Yes, yes, he’s very pretty,” said Crowe, who seemed keen on rushing the interaction. Alejandro, on the other hand, took his sweet time, touching Jonah’s face before sliding his fingers down to the bruises on his neck. 

“Hm,” Alejandro frowned. “Captain won’t like this,” he said, tapping at the quickly darkening bruises on Jonah’s neck. “Don’t suppose you know anything about these finger marks do you?” Alejandro quirked an eyebrow at Crowe. 

“It’s as I said. You can fucking ask Jaxon.” Crowe gritted out. “I’ve hardly touched the brat.” Jonah might’ve laughed at the irony if he weren’t so unsettled—he was still sore from Crowe kicking him into the floor.

“And the bruise on his cheekbone?” Alejandro questioned, like a detective investigating every little clue at a crime scene.

“Ahh.. Ahah..” Crowe chuckled a bit nervously, scratching at the back of his head. “That might’ve been my doin’. But Graves an’ I had to get the little rat to stop thrashing so we could restrain him this morning. I’m sure you understand.”

“Hmn,” Alejandro gave a less-than-enthused, flat hum at the confession, but didn’t push it further. 

“Well, nothing a little touching up won’t fix,” his voice ricocheted back into warmth and he smiled back at Jonah, as if to reassure him. “Sí, mi amor?” 

Jonah was more than willing to let them talk over him, it nearly surprised him that he was being directly addressed. 

“Um, y-yes, Sir,” he said quietly, hoping that was the correct answer. 

“Good boy,” Alejandro cooed, petting Jonah’s hair with his hand.

Jonah’s shoulders slumped just slightly in relief. Despite his slight invasiveness, this man was being nice to him so far, and Jonah hoped things would stay that way. As long as he obeyed perfectly. He would. He’d be perfect. He swore it to himself. 

“Look, I’ve got shit to do,” Crowe said abruptly, cutting through the moment of silence. “So if you don’t mind—”

“Sí, sí,” Alejandro said, waving him out with his hand. “Puedes ir, por Dios.” 

Crowe exhaled sharply and handed something small over to Alejandro, who took it in his hand. Jonah didn’t see what it was, but he saw Alejandro slip the object into his pocket. 

Then, Jonah heard Crowe’s impatient footsteps as he exited through the door, sliding it shut behind him. Alejandro’s eyes watched the door close over Jonah’s shoulder, before looking down at the little slave once more. 

The smile crept back onto his face—it looked warm, encouraging even, if Jonah pretended not to notice the mischief in his eyes. Perhaps Jonah was only imagining it—he wanted to be so lucky. At the very least, Jonah was hoping he’d get a bath. The idea of it sparked hope in his chest—he so desperately wanted to get clean after everything that had happened with Jaxon. 

“Now then, cariño,” Alejandro was cooing at him again. “Let’s get you all cleaned up for the Captain, shall we?” 

“Yes, Sir! Th-thank you, Sir,” Jonah exclaimed, thrilled at the prospect of a bath. He was so beyond grateful to hear it that his brain seemed to filter out the second half of that sentence—’for the Capitan.’ He just truly couldn’t believe he was about to be able to bathe in that glamorous tub. 

Shoving down the thought of his inevitable fate, his heart filled with hope so quickly he felt as if it might spill over, and he let Alejandro take his hand in his and lead him over to a changing area behind a folding paper curtain. 

Alejandro positioned Jonah and circled him slowly, his hand on his chin, as if appraising him. Jonah didn’t take his eyes off the bathtub, hungrily eyeing the clear water within.

“You’re in quite a state, amor,” Alejandro commented, running a finger down the lash scars on Jonah’s back. “I’d almost hate to see if what’s beneath the trousers is worse.” Jonah felt chills rise to the surface of his skin. It sounded like a warning. 

“It's, it’s not as bad.. Sir..” Jonah promised sheepishly. It was true, the state of his torso and back really was the worst of it. Between all the burns, the whip scars, and the brand, Carlisle had really done a number on him over the years. 

“You’re lucky you’ve got a pretty face,” Alejandro remarked, his voice warm once again, as though it were a simple compliment and not laced heavily with implication. He ran his hand down Jonah’s front as he walked around him, until they stood face to face once more. 

“I’m going to need you to strip for me, pretty.” There was the order, Jonah thought. He should’ve expected it. Although the purpose of the folding curtain seemed lost on him now, if Alejandro was just going to stand there and watch him change. He’d been hoping he’d get some time alone in the bath, though in hindsight that dream felt rather stupid. He should’ve known they wouldn’t just leave him alone unsupervised, especially in a room like this. 

“Sir..” Jonah said quietly, desperately not wanting to anger him—he didn’t know Alejandro well enough yet to know the limits of his temper. ”How should I.. Um, the, the chains, Sir, um.. They’ll catch on the fabric..” Please don’t snap please don’t snap please don’t—

Alejandro just gave a small hum. “I’ve got just the thing for that, but you’re going to have to be very good for me and do just as I say.” Jonah nodded eagerly, and Alejandro reached into his pocket and withdrew a small key. Jonah’s heart leapt—so there was a key—the chains could be removed.

“Try anything stupid, and I will make you instantly regret it,” Alejandro warned, bending down to unlock one of the padlocks on Jonah’s right ankle. Jonah flexed the joint when the shackle was removed, grateful for the moments of freedom from the bite of the metal. Jonah’s heart sank a bit when Alejandro didn’t undo the other side, and simply stood up once more, pocketing the key. 

“Off,” he ordered, gesturing to Jonah’s trousers. Jonah turned around, shuffling awkwardly as he maneuvered himself with the chain dragging from his left foot.

Alejandro chuckled behind him. “You can go ahead and turn around, but you won’t have any modesty to protect here.”

Jonah didn’t say anything, trying to ignore the heat of embarrassment rising in his cheeks as he slid his trousers and boxers from his thin waist to the floor. Balancing on his right foot, he pulled the fabric free from the chain, and tried to ignore the feeling of Alejandro’s eyes on his bare body as he folded the pieces of fabric and set them on the nearby dressing stool.

“Look at me,” came Alejandro’s order, and Jonah bit his lip as he turned back around, instinctively bringing his hands down between his legs to try and retain even an ounce of dignity. Alejandro knelt once more and re-fastened the shackle around his right ankle, locking the padlock into place, and Jonah felt a pang of dismay when he realized he wouldn’t even be allowed to bathe with his ankles free of the chains. 

“These stay on as a safety measure,” Alejandro warned, flicking his eyes up to Jonah’s disappointed expression. The taller man stood and slid his fingers fondly through Jonah’s hair. “I’m sure you understand, mi amor,” he cooed warmly, in a way that made Jonah want to agree with everything the man said.

“Yes, Sir,” Jonah said quietly, trying not to look too disappointed. He felt foolish. He shouldn’t have expected it in the first place. 

“Now, ven acá,” he said, like he was luring a small animal out from its hiding place. Alejandro brought a gentle hand to the back of Jonah’s neck and led him over to the edge of the tub. Jonah was suddenly fine with the presence of the shackles. Anything if it meant he got to sink into the water that filled that luxurious bathtub.

With the chain fastened to his ankles, Jonah couldn’t lift his foot high enough to clear the edge of the tub, so Alejandro lifted him into a bridal-style carry and set him down into the water below. Jonah tried and failed to suppress a sigh of relief when he felt himself engulfed in the cool, clear water. 

Alejandro left him there to go rummage through the many bottles and jars that lined the shelves along the wall, and Jonah took the chance to sink all the way in, closing his eyes and sliding himself down until his head slipped below the surface. He let the water engulf his face and soak his hair, enjoying a few moments of true peace and silence before he rose back up to breathe. It was the first good feeling he’d felt since he’d woken up in that barrel.

Alejandro had lined up several products on the little side table beside the tub, and was already uncorking one of the bottles. He tipped it into his hand and let a decent amount of the shimmering pinkish soap fill his palm, before he set it back down on the table. 

It was at this point that Jonah realized he wasn’t just going to be given soaps and left to his own devices. Of course not. Alejandro reached his hands out and began to rub the soap into the boy’s hair. Jonah didn’t protest, and when he let it happen, it actually felt kind of nice. 

Alejandro had Jonah dunk his head once more so he could rinse the soap out of his hair, and when he resurfaced, he saw Alejandro sitting back on the small stool, pouring a second liquid—light blue this time–into the palm of his hand. 

“I’m going to ask you to stand up now, cariño.”

“W-wait,” Jonah paled. “I— I can wash myself, I can d-do it myself, Sir, please—”

Alejandro’s eyes snapped up at him, suddenly narrowed and stern. Jonah let out a tiny fearful squeak at the look alone—it scared him to be so vulnerable with someone that was angry. He didn’t want Alejandro to be angry. 

“S-sorry, I’m sorry, Sir—” Jonah immediately pivoted into damage control, and the apology seemed to melt the irritation from Alejandro’s eyes. His brow unfurrowed, and he gave a small smile in its stead. 

“That’s better,” he hummed, standing along with the boy and beginning to rub the soap into Jonah’s chest. 

Jonah swallowed the lump in his throat and flicked his eyes away, trying to pretend there weren’t hands on him right now, trying to mentally sink back into the water where he could float in peace. 

“Arms up,” Alejandro ordered, a level of sternness back in his voice that made Jonah obey immediately. Jonah could smell the fruity scent wafting through the air as Alejandro spread it along his skin. He ran the soap down Jonah’s arms, neck, face, and torso, scrubbing away at every inch of skin, before circling behind him and repeating the motion on his scarred back. 

“The captain has an affinity for luxury soaps—you’re lucky he’s letting me use them on you. Probably more expensive than any you’ve used in your life.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” Jonah said timidly, hoping that was the correct response.

“He’s truly a man of taste, you should know. Enjoys the finer things,” Alejandro spoke as he scrubbed, his voice smooth as the scented soaps he lathered over Jonah’s scarred back. “I suppose he’s a lot like me, in that regard,” Alejandro mused. 

“Perhaps that’s what drew him to recruit me in the first place.. Though I’m not like you,” Alejandro said with an audible smirk. “You’re… special. And we’re going to make you shine for the Captain.” 

The lump his throat seemed to double in size at the implication, and Jonah said nothing at first, but when a moment of silence extended between them, he murmured a “Yes, Sir,” just to be safe, in case Alejandro wanted a response. 

He heard Alejandro’s pleased hum from behind him, the low vibration in his chest was audible to Jonah in their too-close proximity. He could feel Alejandro’s breath on the back of his neck. 

Jonah lowered his arms when Alejandro instructed him to. He was being the perfect doll. His heart froze for a moment when he saw Alejandro pour more of the blue soap into his hands and he realized what came next.

“Sir, c-can I— please—”

“Ay, don’t test me, niño,” Alejandro hissed, his eyes narrowed to serpentine slits, and Jonah snapped back into obedient silence once more. 

The pleasant expression was back on Alejandro’s face the moment Jonah obeyed, and Jonah felt he was going to get whiplash with the speed at which the man’s demeanor seemed to change. Just be good, just be good, Jonah repeated in his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Alejandro’s hands sliding down to his lower body. 

Jonah balled his fingers into fists until he felt his nails digging into his palms. Alejandro was in no rush, it seemed, and he took his time feeling Jonah’s skin between his legs, rubbing the soap in little circles against his most sensitive areas. Jonah bit his lip and bit back a whine—he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to the stimulation. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Alejandro’s hands finally pulled away, and Jonah found himself panting slightly, his head spinning a bit when he allowed himself to reopen his eyes. 

“Sit, mi amor,” Alejandro instructed, and Jonah obeyed, grateful to sink back into the water. Alejandro sat upon the low stool and rinsed his hands in the bath, before taking one of Jonah’s arms and scrubbing his skin beneath the surface of the water to get all the soap off. 

Jonah supposed there was no point in insisting again that he could do it himself. He’d accepted, with a healthy layer of dismay, that that wasn’t the point. Alejandro was to do it, and to make sure it was done perfectly. 

When he’d rinsed the boy’s upper body, he slid his hands even lower until he was rubbing Jonah between his legs beneath the surface of the water. Jonah’s eyes squeezed shut again—Alejandro’s nimble fingers forced a small gasp and an embarrassing whine out of the boy before Jonah could catch it, and he quickly held his breath again, gripping the sides of his legs with his hands.

Suddenly, Jonah felt Alejandro’s fingers probing at his entrance. He whimpered uncontrollably, but when those fingertips started pressing inside him, he gasped, panic gripping at his chest like the claws of a tiger, and his hands snapped up and seized Alejandro’s wrist fiercely. Jonah cried out and shoved his hand away furiously—not even thinking—just running on sheer frantic panic at the way he did not want those fingers probing through his insides—

Alejandro’s hand shot up and fisted into Jonah’s hair. Without warning, Alejandro shoved Jonah’s head down hard, down beneath the surface of the water and held him there. Jonah thrashed as he was forced underwater, his hands clawing and scratching frantically at Alejandro’s arm, trying to free himself. Jonah breathed in a gulp of water in sheer shock—fuckfuckfuckfuck—- His fingernails tore at the other man’s skin, desperate to free himself from Alejandro’s vice grip. 

Alejandro added a second hand, pressing down on Jonah’s face to bolster the grip in his hair. He held him all the way under, gritting his teeth and cursing under his breath as the boy thrashed and kicked and scratched against him. The water Jonah kicked up splashed on Alejandro’s tunic until it was soaked, and Alejandro growled as he shoved Jonah’s head down harder until it slammed against the base of the tub. He dragged him up a few inches and slammed him down again, and again, and again, until finally, Jonah went limp beneath him. 

At last, Alejandro dragged Jonah’s head back above the surface. The boy heaved and wretched, coughing up mouthfuls of water and letting out rough, full-body sobs that shook his entire form as he shuddered in Alejandro’s grip. At last, Alejandro released him, and Jonah continued to cough and gasp for several more long moments, tears running down his face to greet the bath water that soaked him. 

“You stupid fucking mutt,” Alejandro snapped, every ounce of vitriol he had layered thick in his voice. “How dare you. I fucking warned you what would happen.” 

Jonah sobbed into his hands. “I’msorry—“ he slurred. “I’msorry I’msorry—hiic— I’msorry, Sir—“  his voice cracked into another broken cry. 

Alejandro only huffed a breath of irritation. Giving Jonah almost no time to recover from his near-drowning, Alejandro suddenly reached into the water and gripped the chain that bound Jonah’s ankles together. Jonah gasped, still breathless, as Alejandro tugged the chain upwards and dragged Jonah’s body forward until he could prop the boy’s feet up on the edge of the bathtub. Jonah really did feel like a doll—being touched and shoved and posed and manipulated like he couldn't do a damned thing on his own. He hated the feeling, but his head was still spinning, and he feared Alejandro’s wrath enough not to try to resist again. 

More soap in his hands, and Alejandro was rubbing circles into the skin on Jonah’s legs, making his way down to the boy’s feet. Jonah tried not to twitch too much when he felt the man’s fingers between his toes, but it was weirdly sensitive there in a way that almost felt ticklish. It was still a thousand times better than feeling Alejandro’s fingers molesting him between his legs, or shoving his head underwater, so he endured it without a word, only sniffling and trying to suppress the tears that still leaked stubbornly from his eyes.

Eventually, his crying gave way to a sort of numbness, and Jonah felt himself zone out as Alejandro lay his legs back beneath the water once more and scrubbed the soap from his skin. He let himself drift away in his mind, to a calming seashore, the waves lapping and kissing at the white sand, a serene sunset overhead dappling the clouds with shades of pink and orange. 

He let himself float there, drifting somewhere in the seafoam, until he felt a sharp tug in his hair and heard an audible snap that yanked him away and shoved him back into reality—back into the ornate bathtub, deep below the decks of the ship. 

“Oye, niño,” Alejandro said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of Jonah’s face. “Parate,” he ordered, and Jonah obeyed numbly, standing on shaking legs and trying to stop the room from swimming around him. 

Alejandro stood and walked to retrieve a large towel from a nearby cabinet. He wrapped it around Jonah and worked the fabric into Jonah’s soaking wet hair before drying the rest of his upper body. With no warning, Alejandro scooped Jonah up into a bridal carry and set him down on a mat on the floor beside the edge of the tub, and when Jonah caught his balance, the man dragged the towel down his legs before wrapping it around his shoulders and releasing him. Jonah gleaned that Alejandro was finished drying him, and he reached up to grip the edges of the towel now and hold it tightly around himself, eager to recover some semblance of modesty in the presence of the man who controlled everything in his life right now. 

Jonah’s eyes flickered up to the man’s face to assess whether this was allowed, and was surprised when he was once again met with a warm dewy gaze. 

“You’ll need to be better behaved with the Captain, you know. He won’t be as forgiving.” It was a terrifying warning, but he said it so pleasantly that his tone would’ve felt comforting if Jonah didn’t understand the meaning of the words. It was jarring to hear promises of pain presented with such warmth. 

“Ven, cariño,” Alejandro said, leading Jonah over to the vanity to sit upon the stool that rested in front of it. 

Joanh stayed very quiet and very still, save for the little “Yes, Sir,” he uttered automatically out of force of habit. 

Alejandro busied himself with touching up the bruising on Jonah’s face and neck, dabbing a bit of skin-colored cream on with a sponge and dusting it with a thin layer of powder.

“There, that’s much better, don’t you think?” Alejandro mused, and Jonah glanced into the mirror. Indeed, the bruises had virtually disappeared, though the makeup did nothing for the dull pain he still felt throbbing in his neck where Jaxon’s hands had nearly squeezed him into unconsciousness. 

Jonah watched, still and pliant, as Alejandro retrieved a bundle of sheer fabric from a trunk on the other side of the room. When the man unfolded it and held it out, Jonah felt a spike of dread in his chest and a flash of heat beneath the skin of his cheeks. 

The garment was barely something one might consider clothing. It was a short slip dress, with what looked to be large gaps on the front and back of it. When Jonah allowed it to be slipped over his head, the shape of the piece made his eyes widen at the way it hugged at his body. The pale fabric was practically see-through, and was almost completely backless. The front of it was cut so deep it didn’t even have a neckline, exposing his chest and torso all the way down to his waist. 

A series of small loops lined the hems at the front of it, and their presence began to make more sense when Alejandro produced a long length of the thinnest golden chain Jonah had ever seen. He watched, embarrassment and dread twisting like a python in his stomach, as Alejandro wove the delicate chain through the loops of the garment in a corset-like pattern. When he was finished, the gold decorated Jonah’s torso in long zig-zag stripes. 

Alejandro stepped back and hummed in approval. “Ay, que bonito.. It looks so beautiful on you, cariño,” he purred, running his fingers down Jonah’s exposed skin and cupping his thin waist.

Jonah felt like he’d been wrapped up like a present, designed to tempt and tantalize before finally being opened. His hips and lower regions were barely covered by the short dress, and he felt far more like an object than a person dressed in this ridiculous getup. He felt the tears returning to his eyes as he looked at himself in the mirror. He knew he was getting dressed up to be devoured. 

“Oh, I’ve really outdone myself this time, haven’t I,” Alejandro hummed, sliding a hand down Jonah’s bare back. “The Captain will love you like this.” Jonah felt the serpent in his stomach twist his insides around as the creeping dread spiked into a hopeless, humiliated terror.

“Please..” he said softly, though he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He knew there was nothing he could do, nothing Alejandro would do, to stop what was about to happen to him. 

It would make what had happened with Jaxon seem like a sunny walk in the park. Jonah shook as tears streaked down his face, and choked back a small cry of despair when he saw Alejandro’s face twist into a frown of disapproval.

“Ay, don’t cry, niño,” Alejandro ordered, swiping away the droplets that ran down his cheeks. “You’ll mess up your makeup.”

Jonah sniffled and hiccuped, trying to stop the tears. “I— I’m s-sorry, Sir, I’m sorry—” he was feeling like a broken record again. 

Like the everchanging winds, Alejandro’s expression suddenly melted into that of sympathy. “Pobrecito..” he cooed, wrapping his arms around Jonah’s shoulders and guiding his head to rest on the man’s exposed chest. “You’ll be okay, amor. Just be a good little boy and obey, and it will all be okay.” 

Jonah hiccuped into the man’s chest, and tried desperately to convince himself that Alejandro was telling him the truth. 

༻✦༺

Ohhh poor baby Jonah’s really in it now…

LA SIRENA TAGLIST

@spookyboywhump @livelaughwhump @phoenixpromptsandstuff @unforgivenn @befuddled-calico-whump

@bloodthirsty-squirrel @writing-for-gold @thesecretgardenofmymind @unorganisedalienrubbish @thekneelingdoll

@victimeyez @veilofvoices @the-scrapegoat @ladygwennn @atomicsandwichprince 

“Yes, Sir,” his voice was nearly a whisper, and his breath caught in his throat when Jaxon started touching him again. He ran his hands up Jonah’s torso, before wrapping his fingers around Jonah’s neck and giving an experimental little squeeze. Jonah pleaded with his eyes for Jaxon to please not squeeze any tighter. He hated being choked. It reminded him of the way Carlisle would hold him down by the neck and squeeze his throat until he passed out, only to keep fucking him through his unconsciousness. When he finally decided to let go, Jonah would come slowly back to his surroundings, as if summoned from the throes of a nightmare, only to realize that he was still being pinned down and split open by his master. One nightmare for another. And Carlisle would do it again, and again, and again, thrusting Jonah in and out between realms until he couldn't form a single thought beyond ‘No, no, please— no—’

Perhaps Jaxon could see the panic in Jonah’s eyes, for his own gaze widened for just a split second before narrowing back into a nasty snicker. But Jaxon didn’t comment on it, and slid his hands down Jonah’s chest to tug at his nipples. 

“Aa—aah!” Jonah instantly tried to seal his lips shut the moment the sound was forced out, a fierce heat of embarrassment flushing his cheeks when he realized it had happened. He hadn’t meant to—he was always just so ridiculously sensitive there. Carlisle had taken advantage of it constantly. 

Jaxon let out a low chuckle, “My.. Sensitive little thing, aren’t you..” Another statement, phrased like a question. Jonah did not answer him this time, instead biting away at his lower lip to try and muffle any further sound that came out. 

Jaxon, as if taking it as a personal challenge, tugged and twisted sharply on both sides of his chest at once until Jonah’s back forcibly arched up into the motion and he cried out—tears welled up in his eyes at the sheer humiliation of it all. He did not want to be giving Jaxon what he wanted, but Jaxon’s thrilled expression told him that he—or rather, his body—was doing exactly that. 

Jonah let out pathetic, closed mouth whimpers as Jaxon continued his assault, raking nails down his scarred torso and tugging at the sensitive little buds on his chest. At some point, Jaxon’s hands had wound around Jonah’s throat again, and his body reacted automatically—he didn’t even think about it—his hands snapped up and he gripped Jaxon’s wrist, tugging at it to try and make him let go. 

“Please, Sir—” Jonah pleaded. “Please don’t—”

Jaxon cut him off with a fierce slap to the face with his other hand, and Jonah’s head snapped to the side. The force of the blow made his head spin—Jaxon had used the base of his palm for that, surely, for the pain of it reverberated through his cheekbone in a way that Jonah knew would leave a bruise. 

“You stupid fucking slut, don’t you dare try and stop me,” Jaxon spat venom down at Jonah, a previously unseen rage in his eyes. 

“That’s it, I won’t tolerate this,” Jaxon said decisively, before pushing up off of Jonah and climbing down off of the table.

For one brief, stupid moment, Jonah celebrated a small victory. He’d gotten Jaxon to stop.

He rode that high for a flash of a second, before his world came crashing down again when Jaxon reached for him once more and he felt himself being hauled over onto his front. 

“W-wait, Sir—” Jonah begged, no idea what was about to happen to him instead. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Sir, I won’t do it aga—”

“Shut up,” Jaxon growled, and Jonah’s blood ran cold when he felt Jaxon dragging his arms back behind him again.

Jonah tried to twist away—a stupid effort, really—for he paid for it instantly when Jaxon gripped his hair sharply and pulled back, forcing Jonah’s head to crane upwards painfully before Jaxon slammed his face back down into the table so hard Jonah saw stars. 

Jonah gasped at the shock of the impact, before Jaxon did it a second time, just for good measure. Sparks popped and danced in his vision, and Jonah moaned in pain against the wood. This had happened to him far too many times today—at this rate, he’d be well concussed before sundown. 

Jaxon slid his belt—Italian leather—off in one swift motion, making quick work of restraining the boy’s hands behind him. Jonah was still dazed, swimming in the sea of stars that flickered behind his eyelids, and he barely even registered what was happening before he felt a grip at his shoulder and realized he was being rolled back onto his front again.

He panted for air, still trying to recover from the pounding agony in his head, while Jaxon climbed back on top of him and gripped his hair in a fist. Jaxon leaned down to study Jonah’s face. The boy’s eyes were lidded and unfocused now, his lips were parted and wet with what was probably drool. He looked dizzy and pained and so fucking out of it—it was a beautiful sight in Jaxon’s eyes. 

Jaxon took advantage of the slave’s parted lips, lifting his other hand to shove two fingers into the boy’s panting mouth. Jonah’s eyes went wide with shock at the intrusion, and he almost bit down on instinct before his mind caught up with him and forced him to accept it without resistance. Don’t make it worse don’t make it worse don’t make it worse—

Jaxon slid his digits across Jonah’s teeth, along his tongue, giving the muscle a firm tug and pulling an embarrassing cry of pain from Jonah’s throat. Jaxon snickered, all too pleased with himself, and he drove his fingers in further to force them into the back of the boy’s throat. 

Jonah gagged harshly as Jaxon jabbed the back of his throat with his fingertips, causing the muscles within to spasm around the intrusion. Jonah twisted in his bindings, begging with choked gagging noises and tearful eyes for Jaxon to fucking stop already. He’d beg with words if he could—oh, he would beg so, so well—but there was nothing he could do but twitch against the belt and writhe beneath Jaxon’s hips as his mouth was invaded. 

Jonah, to his horror, could feel Jaxon stiffening over him. The gap between their hips was closing rapidly as Jaxon grew harder in his trousers until the shape of it was pressing down into Jonah’s pelvis.

“Oh, yeahh,” Jaxon nearly moaned. “I bet your throat would feel reeally nice..” 

Jonah’s eyes shot wide open, his chest spiking with dread. He tried to shake his head, whining out some desperate sound that might have meant “Stop,” or “Please don’t,” had he been able to speak. Jaxon simply ignored him, relishing in the fun he was having playing with the little slave boy’s mouth.

After what felt like a lifetime, Jaxon finally pulled his fingers from Jonah’s mouth, and Jonah panted hard as a string of drool stretched from his glistening lips to Jaxon’s now dripping fingers. Jonah closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recover. It was over. He’d endured it, and now it was over. 

Jonah tried to comfort himself with the thought, but his shred of hope was ripped away suddenly when he heard Jaxon’s zipper coming undone. Jonah’s eyes shot open in panic. Shit—he was really about to—

“No! Sir, please don’t— Please! I’ll, I’ll be good just, just please—”

“Oh, fucking relax,” Jaxon snapped, bringing his saliva-slicked fingers to his waist to wrap around his now exposed length. Jaxon groaned when his hand slid down, slickening the surface with Jonah’s drool, before sliding up again, causing Jaxon’s hips to twitch forward in pleasure as he chased it. 

Jonah was whimpering now, not sure what was about to happen, but sure it was absolutely nothing that would let him ‘fucking relax.’

“C’mon pup, don’t give me that look,” Jaxon had a smug, almost blissful smile back on his face. His eyes looked just a bit more lidded than usual now as he stroked himself against Jonah’s bare stomach. 

“It’s a real fucking shame you know,” Jaxon panted, “but I’m not going to fuck you, pet. At least, not today.” 

Jonah blinked up at him, not even sure if he believed him.

Jaxon chuckled at Jonah’s incredulous expression. “See, it's an awful shame, puppy, but we’re not allowed to shove into your pretty holes until the Captain has claimed you first.”

Jonah should have been relieved to hear it, that Jaxon wouldn’t fuck him like this—right there on the table, with Sawyer kneeling on the floor in the very same room. But Jonah felt a spike of horror instead at Jaxon’s words, for it meant his worst fears were confirmed—what the Captain would do to him—what he was there for—the real reason he’d been taken captive.

Jaxon just continued his musings like it was nothing. “But, I suppose I'll have to make do like this.. And besides, you’re so pretty when you’re in pain. I trust you’ll make those gorgeous noises for me until you get me off, yeah?” 

Jonah was trying and failing to hold back his tears. “P-please, Sir, just let me up— Please I, I want to be good, I don’t want to— I don’t want to— to do this— please, Sir—“ 

Jonah was cut off when Jaxon brought his free hand down hard on the side of Jonah’s face. He hit the boy savagely, once—twice—a third time—and Jonah cried out in pain and choked out a sob as his face was assaulted. Jaxon’s other hand never stopped stroking himself. His hips were twitching faster—he was getting closer now.

“Try again, puppy!” Jaxon called, projecting his voice so it boomed throughout the room. 

“AahHH—! I’m sorry I’m sorry!! I’msorry Sir!!” Jonah cried, sobbing through his words, desperate for the pain to stop. 

At last, Jaxon finally stopped hitting him, letting his hand hover in the air above Jonah’s face, poised to slap him again. 

“You gonna be good for me, then?” Jaxon challenged, daring Jonah to fuck this up again and give him another excuse to brutalize the boy. 

“Yes, Sir!” Jonah cried. “Yes Sir, Yes Sir!! Be good! I’ll— I’ll be, be good S-sir!” Jonah was fully sobbing now, as Jaxon’s free hand gripped his sore face and squeezed his cheeks harshly. Tears spilled down his cheeks and ran onto Jaxon’s fingers. 

Jaxon lifted his hand to lap at the tears on his own skin, before cracking a cruel smile and leaning down. Jaxon let his tongue slip out from between his lips and he slowly lapped at the fresh tear streaks that cascaded down Jonah’s reddened face. Jonah shuddered at the feeling of the man’s tongue on his face—as if this couldn’t get any more invasive and humiliating—

Then, to his horror, Jaxon’s free hand was back around his throat, squeezing tighter than before, and Jonah twisted around in vain, his arms still tied uselessly behind him. He gagged and spluttered against Jaxon’s fierce grip, until Jaxon’s fingers tightened even further and cut off Jonah’s breath entirely. At that point, the boy went silent, thrashing in Jaxon’s grip.

Sawyer hadn’t uttered a word this entire time, perhaps out of fear of facing the same treatment—and the only sounds left in the room were the wet sounds of Jaxon fucking into his own hand and his heavy shuddering breath as he lost himself in his own pleasure. 

“Fuck—I’m so close, puppy,” Jaxon panted. “Should I let you have some air?” 

In his rational mind, Jonah would probably rather be unconscious for this, but the process of getting there hurt so fucking much—every fiber of his being was screaming for air. Jonah opened his teary red eyes and pleaded wordlessly with his expression. 

Jaxon squeezed his throat a few moments longer, just to savor it, and when he saw Jonah’s eyes rolling back, his lips turning blue, Jaxon knew the boy was on the brink of unconsciousness—right about to pass out. Then, he finally released him, just seconds before the boy slipped beneath the waves.

The moment Jaxon let go, Jonah was gasping furiously, his lungs burning and straining to draw in as much air as possible. His neck throbbed as Jaxon drew his hand away, and Jonah heaved fresh sobs in its blessed absence. Perhaps it was the way Jonah sounded right then, or perhaps the way he looked up at Jaxon as he desperately cried and gasped for air, but it was all too much for Jaxon—he was losing it—it was driving him over the edge and—

Jaxon squeezed his eyes shut and let out a guttural moan, biting down on his lip and riding out his orgasm as he spilled hot ropes all over Jonah’s bare stomach and chest. Jonah sobbed harder when he felt the warm substance splash over his skin, and the sight of him like that made Jaxon thrust faster into his hand, painting white ribbons over the boy’s scarred flesh. 

Slowly, Jaxon’s breath slowed to deep, heavy exhales, and he chuckled with satisfaction at the way Jonah had come undone with horror and humiliation. 

“Good job, puppy,” Jaxon panted over him and smiled, still a little breathless as he came down from his high. “God, you made me feel so good, and I didn’t even have to fuck you for that. Imagine how much fun it’ll be next time when I take you properly.”

It was a praise Jonah didn’t want. A promise he dreaded. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. Jaxon hadn’t even fucked him, but Jonah still felt disgusting and awful and used. He thought of Carlisle. He didn’t want to think about Carlisle. 

Jonah squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to look at Jaxon anymore. He’d love to never have to see this man again for the rest of his life. He knew he wouldn’t get that wish. 

Jonah felt the smallest tinge of relief when he heard Jaxon’s zipper slide back up and felt the man climb off of him. He kept his eyes shut, wishing he didn’t have skin at all so he wouldn’t have to feel it— until he felt a cool rag being dragged down his now sticky torso.

He flickered his eyes open again. Jaxon was cleaning him off. Jaxon must have seen the brief flicker of unconscious gratitude in Jonah’s eyes, for he let out an amused little hum in the boy’s direction. 

“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “I wasn’t just gonna leave you like that.”

Jonah said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. His throat felt raw. He really was grateful he at least got somewhat cleaned up afterwards, although he didn’t feel Jaxon deserved to hear his thanks. He wouldn’t say it unless the man made him. 

Just then, Jaxon looked down at him, as if reading his mind. “What do you say, puppy?” 

Jonah sniffed, trying not to sob again. He knew his lines. He didn’t want to drag this out. He just wanted it to be over. 

“Th-thank, thank you, S-sir,” he whimpered. And Jaxon gave a hum in approval. 

“Good boy,” the blonde man said, turning to discard the dirty rag into the bucket on the floor. 

With his skin wiped as clean as it could get for now, Jonah felt himself being rolled over onto his side. Jaxon worked at the belt that bound his wrists behind him, and Jonah felt a pang of horror hit his chest when he spotted the mop of tousled black hair, still kneeling on the floor. Sawyer had been in the room the whole time. He’d been so quiet, Jonah had nearly forgotten. He felt another sob rise up his throat at the sheer humiliation that Sawyer, of all people, had just heard everything. He held his breath, trying to swallow it down as Jaxon finally pulled the belt free and released his wrists. 

Sawyer didn’t even look up, seemingly keen on staring down at some particular spot on the floor. He’d stopped scrubbing long ago, but hadn’t uttered a word, hadn’t made a sound, throughout Jaxon’s ‘private time’ with Jonah. Jonah supposed that made sense, if Sawyer didn’t want to bring that attention upon himself. Jonah supposed he probably got plenty of it—despite his clear lack of brain cells, Sawyer was quite good-looking. Jonah would never tell him that, of course, but he could reason that Sawyer was probably not starved for this particular type of attention aboard the vessel. Despite the fact that Sawyer seemed to be practically begging for a beating with every word out of his mouth, it made sense that he’d not be in the business of purposefully inviting more of this particular type of punishment. 

“Mutt,” Jaxon hissed, and when Sawyer finally looked up, Jonah could see that the young man’s face was beet red. 

“You fucking missed a spot.”

Sawyer, to Jonah’s surprise, didn’t bark out some sarcastic retort, he just resignedly crawled over to where Jaxon pointed and worked at the spot on the floor with the rag in his hand. Jonah did hear him mumbling under his breath, however—he caught the word ‘bastard’ somewhere in there.

Jonah just lay there on the table for a few moments, trying to get his head to stop fucking spinning. He knew he’d have finger-shaped bruises darkening around his neck by morning, if not even sooner.

Just then, as the silence hung in the air between the three men, there was a sudden thumping at the door. Jonah startled out of his daze, snapping up into a sitting position before instantly regretting it when a wave of vertigo caused the whole room to spin around him.

“Aye?” He heard Jaxon call out, and the door slid open to reveal Crowe’s sharp features. 

“I’m here for the boy,” Crowe said curtly. “Captain’s orders. He wants him ready for tonight.”

“He’s all yours,” said Jaxon, almost too casually, like what had just taken place was all just some horrible waking nightmare conjured up by Jonah’s overactive imagination.

“Wonderful,” said Crowe flatly, and the man stepped into the room towards the wooden table. He reached out and gripped Jonah’s arm. Jonah flinched back when he saw the hand coming for him, but didn’t pull away when Crowe’s fingers encircled his bicep and tugged him off the surface. 

He followed the motion as Crowe steered him out of the room, though his steps felt weak and awkward in the shackles. He was glad to be away from Jaxon, at least for now, and hoped whatever would happen to him next wouldn’t be worse. Though he did not like the implications of “the Captain” and “tonight.” 

As he was pushed through the wooden corridors, he tried not to think about it, and instead, he thought of Sawyer. Sawyer, who had been left behind, kneeling on the floor, in the room with that man, to be subjected to some unknown fate. Jonah hoped that Jaxon wouldn’t repeat his actions on Sawyer. He hoped Sawyer would keep his mouth shut for once, for his own good. He hoped they'd both make it through the night in one relative piece, without any more torture, if that was even possible for someone with a mouth like Sawyer’s.

Jonah wished he truly believed in God. 

It would be nice to pray to something that would actually listen. 

༻✦༺

Go read the NEXT ONE!!

Thanks for reading! More coming soon…

LA SIRENA TAGLIST

@spookyboywhump @livelaughwhump @phoenixpromptsandstuff @unforgivenn @befuddled-calico-whump

@bloodthirsty-squirrel @writing-for-gold @thesecretgardenofmymind @unorganisedalienrubbish @thekneelingdoll

@victimeyez @veilofvoices @the-scrapegoat @ladygwennn @atomicsandwichprince