Resistance

Down the Rabbit Hole

...How long had it been since things had become like this?? Syrus didn’t know. He wasn’t fully aware of what was going on around him, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel a dull pain throbbing throughout his body.

He could do little more than lift even a single finger, his body still upright thanks to the cement wall he leaned back against as he stared off with a vacant expression, a voice reaching his ears.

“That’s enough.” Someone called out, and Syrus could barely make out a Diou soldier just a ways in front of him, seemingly in an offensive stance before going lax upon the command.

Had he been fighting? Syrus could only assume so by the feeling of that aching sensation.

Then he was aware of someone kneeling in front of him, though he couldn't seem to make out that individual.

“What a mess you are.” The man spoke, the slightest curve of his lips showing his amusement. “You still haven’t shown any progress. What a pity.” The voice had a mocking tone to it, but Syrus couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t have the energy to get up, though he was seized by the feeling that he needed to quickly, and that thought was backed up by the command that rung out in his ears. “Get up.”

His senses were still a mess, and even if he barely heard the command, his body just wouldn’t budge.

“I said get up.” The voice reiterated, a vivid pain bringing him back to reality as his head was yanked up by a fistful of his hair. Silver eyes met his own, and Syrus reflexively recoiled, baring his fangs and hissing. “Good. You still have some zest left in you, hmm?” The man grinned, seemingly delighted to see this before he dragged Syrus off, just like that, hand still gripped firmly around a fistful of his white hair.

Syrus had little power to resist him. He knew doing so was hopeless, but that didn’t stop him as he continued struggling fruitlessly.

That’s right. This man had been trying to draw something out of him. A power even Syrus himself didn’t understand. How could he possibly hope to harness it?

He was left wondering what would become of him next as he was dragged off, only being able to see the dark, cement hallways behind the man as he walked.

A stale smell struck his nose. Even now, he couldn’t get used to that smell, even if he didn’t know how long he had been in this hell already.

Different from the polished, marble floors further up, Syrus had been confined to the lower levels of the castle, put through a variety of what the man would call ‘tests’, tests to pull, or rather, force that ‘power’ out from within him, but to no avail as of thus far.

Only when he heard the sound of a heavy metal door creaking, and the man took a corner, did Syrus know they had reached the man’s destination.

He was thrown onto the hard ground like a rag-doll, the sound of the metal door slamming shut echoing throughout the room.

Of course, Syrus tried to gather his bearings, frantically looking around the room to try and get a feel for what awaited him next...And when he saw the scenery before him, he felt the heat drain from his body.

Various, grueling instruments lined the room, a burning coal fire along one corner. A run down, uncomfortable looking ‘chair’ along the center of the room, and the lingering smell of fear and death that hung heavily in the air...It wasn’t hard to imagine what this room might have been used for, and his fur prickled in a mixture of apprehension and fear as the man approached him, yet again kneeling down in front of him.

“You better dig deep for that power inside of you.” It was an ominous whisper, the image of the man’s grin searing itself within Syrus’ mind. “Because if you can’t, you’re about to have quite an unpleasant time.”

Syrus...Didn’t know what would become of him. Maybe in the end, there would be nothing of him left, but he was far from giving in, powerless as he was...At the very least, he wanted to show he would have plenty of fight left in him, regardless of the outcome.

The man, seeing that fire in Syrus’ eyes, seemed strangely satisfied with that look. As though he had expected nothing less. As though he had hoped for nothing less than that.

“Let’s see how long that bravado of yours will last.”

Syrus was left desperately trying to predict whatever would happen to him from that point, but even with that...Nothing could prepare him for what he would have to endure.

He was dragged off towards the burning coal fire, the embers flickering in the edge of his vision...And a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He broke out into a cold sweat as he was shoved face-first towards the cement wall, not being able to budge even an inch under the man’s strength, which was...Abnormally strong, even in Syrus’ opinion. He couldn’t even turn his head to look at whatever he would do, a metallic scraping sound echoing loudly in his ears...Too loudly. Syrus didn’t have to think on it for long to have an inkling of what was going to happen.

His heart began racing wildly in his chest, the moments of apprehension he was trapped in feeling painstakingly long...Until something hot, unbearably hot was pressed against his back, burning right through the fabric of his shirt in as though it were a thin sheet of paper.

Syrus couldn’t suppress the scream that ripped itself from his throat at the sheer pain of that moment. That pain overshadowed absolutely everything else.

But even so, there was nothing he could feel from within.

How long would he have to endure all of this? Absolutely nothing would end there. No...This was only the ‘beginning’ for him. He would continue to be treated in such a way. Tossed about, tortured, and everything in-between, and yet...Still, he couldn’t harness even an ounce of that so called power that was hidden within him, and Syrus found himself wondering if he ever would.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months...Honestly, he didn’t know how long he had been held captive. Everything melded together until he wasn’t even sure anymore. He wasn’t even able to tell the time of day, as he was always held in that same area within the lower levels of the castle.

A dark, stale room. Both the floors and the walls shared the same, depressing gray, and there was a heavy, musty smell in the air, almost rotting.

The only thing within that room was the single, old and creaky bed that Syrus slept on. Other than that, there was nothing. He was left in silence until the next time he was inevitably dragged out of his room...But that silence didn’t give him any sense of comfort. Rather, it only made him feel more anxious about whatever awaited him next. His body was battered, and his nerves were worn, and yet, somehow, he retained his fighting spirit...But Syrus wondered how long it would be before that too, was whittled away.

Surely he wouldn’t be killed. That man would have done so already, if that were his intention. He’d already made it clear that he wanted to use whatever was sleeping within Syrus.

Maybe he would eventually break somewhere along the way.

Syrus wasn’t sure if that thought made him afraid, or gave him relief, but that didn’t matter as the sound of the metal door opening demanded his attention.

Surely enough, it was that man, and Syrus was immediately on edge, his fur bristling out as he poured whatever fighting spirit he had left into his glare.

However, there was something different about the man, his usually amused demeanor completely lacking.

Rather, he bore no expression at all as he stared Syrus down for several moments before finally closing the distance, getting a firm grip around Syrus’ arm.

Syrus was alarmed, but he couldn’t dislodge the man’s hand, his thoughts racing as he tried to understand what might have been going on in the man’s head.

Was he thinking about what he intended to do next?? Was he angry??? Syrus had no way of knowing. He just couldn’t tell from his empty expression.

“...You're quite an obstinate little thing, aren't you?” The man finally spoke, but it was difficult to judge whether he was angry, or even annoyed, his expression blank and devoid of emotion. “...No matter what I do, it just simply won’t emerge…” He added in with a mutter, seemingly more so to himself. “I can’t use you like this.”

...Use him…?

Perhaps it was a combination of his frayed nerves and mistreatment, but these words alone struck Syrus like a sharp thorn. He felt a wave of anger and agitation, gritting his teeth.

“...Use me...?” He echoed, balling his hand into a fist and trying to yet again yank his arm out of the man’s grasp. “I have no idea what you’ve been on about this entire time, but even if you keep tossing me around, I’ll never do what you want me to!!” He hissed, flattening his ears against his head, his tail lashing against the cement floor with a few, soft thumps. “I don’t belong to you.”

He was infuriated. He didn’t understand anything. Without even knowing why this was happening, he was already thrown into this whole mess. Treated lesser than the dirt this man walked upon, merely because of a ‘power’ he neither knew, nor asked for.

A dark emotion raged within his chest, searing the back of his throat….But like the one time he felt it before, Syrus didn’t understand that feeling.

A long silence passed afterwards in response, and Syrus could only imagine what he was thinking...But then, an eerie smile finally crept along the man’s face.

“...Don’t belong to me??” The man echoed, looking dreadfully amused, his hand dropping from around Syrus’ arm as silver eyes captured his own...And Syrus felt a chill run up his spine. Something flickered there. Something that Syrus didn’t yet understand. “...I don’t believe you understand your own predicament.”

Had Syrus...Gone too far this time around?? He couldn’t help but wonder such a thing, but he tried to brace himself for whatever would happen next...Before he was suddenly shoved towards the bed face-first, the old springs creaking loudly in response.

Confusion and panic swirled in his mind as weight pressed against his back faintly, and he was left trying to grasp the man’s intentions.

“I think a fresh reminder is just what you need. Perhaps even a different...Approach.”

A whisper just beside his ear, causing it to fold back reflexively in response.

What...Was this man going to do to him? Syrus found himself frantically trying to figure that out, his heart racing in his chest.

...But whatever he was expecting was thrown out the window as a hand suddenly slipped under the hem of his shirt, brushing along the bare skin of his hip.

“...Your skin is surprisingly soft, hmm?”

Syrus felt a cold wave of dread overcome him as he began to connect the dots towards something absolutely outrageous.

...There was no way.

He was trying to convince himself that he was misunderstanding...But then, as he glanced over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions were wrong, those silver eyes practically glittered with cruel amusement.

“…!! Get off!!” Syrus hissed, gathering all of his strength to try and throw the man off of him, but to no avail. He simply wouldn’t budge, his weight remained firm against Syrus’ back, and Syrus was seized with mortification and terror. “...No!!” Syrus continued to struggle fruitlessly, his tail thrashing about before it was caught, the man’s hand clamping firmly around it, a soft breath blowing against the back of his ear.

The man’s silence only fueled that sense of dread, and even though Syrus couldn’t see his face, he could feel the grin that played about his lips, his fingers digging past the fur along his tail. A faint sense of pain prickled at the sensation of those fingers digging in. Syrus hated his tail being touched, but all he could do was shake it slightly in frustration, the fur puffing out in response.

The man went about things terribly slowly, deliberately, as he seemed to be considering how he wanted to go about this.

Should he make Syrus scream and cry out in pain?

Or...Should he give him a taste of utter humiliation??

“...A thought just occurred to me.” The man finally spoke up, still whispering just beside Syrus’ ear, his hand sliding further down his tail, sending shivers down his spine as he desperately tried to endure the fear that was rising in his throat. “...I heard the base of a cat’s tail is quite sensitive...Are you the same, I wonder??”

Syrus didn’t want to know, his fur prickling even more as the hand on his tail descended further down even still...Until firmly wrapping around the base of it.

Syrus twitched in response, the feeling of pain still lancing throughout his tail...And yet, at the same time, a strange, tingling sensation spread out. A feeling of discomfort, and something else as the fingers gently kneaded around the base.

...He didn’t like it one bit, but even if he once again tried to yank his tail away, the man’s grip remained firm.

“...Do you feel something after all?” The man questioned, a sudden, moist sound bursting throughout Syrus’ eardrum, his ear folding back even more.

The man had stuck his tongue inside his ear, the damp sensation lingering, and making him feel sick to his stomach.

Then, he heard the sound of his zipper being undone, a hand slipping down into the front of his pants and into his boxers, grabbing him directly without a second thought.

Syrus recoiled, the feeling of being touched there only furthering his sense of mortification. He couldn’t stand it, trying to reach down and pry the hand away, but the sudden, tightening grip around him suggested he do otherwise.

Not wanting to be crushed, Syrus had no choice but to stop resisting, biting his bottom lip in shame and frustration.

The grip loosened, starting to stroke him slowly…Even if Syrus hated this situation with every fiber of his being, he couldn’t fight the steady, sweet sensations that began to flare up in the pit of his stomach.

“…Lively, aren’t you?” The voice continued by his ear yet again, as though to rub salt into his already open wounds and sense of shame, the hand around the base of his tail suddenly tightening. Not too hard, however, sending a strange shudder up his spine.

He felt a faint pressure against his neck, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that he had been bitten there.

…He didn’t want this.

Even so, his body began to feel foreign to him, steadily being swept up by the more frequent, sweet pangs that started overtaking him, bit by bit.

…Why? Even though he hated this so much…He was so confused, so frightened, so angry.

At some point, he was vaguely aware of the fact that his pants had been slipped further down, and like a cold wave of reality, a sudden, damp pressure pressed against him from behind.

This was…Absolutely beyond Syrus’ worst imagination, and yet, he could do nothing as what felt like a finger pressed into him slowly.

An unfamiliar, painful sensation washed over him, but was soon swept away by the continuous motion of the hand at his front. His tail had been released, waving listlessly throughout the air with nowhere to go as he tried to make sense of the unknown sensations spreading through his body.

Without missing a beat, a second digit pressed into him, eventually followed by a third, consistently continuing with that same, steady rhythm. Syrus lost control over his own breathing, his mind starting to cloud over, his body instinctively trying to chase after those feelings, despite how much he hated them…His mind and body seemed to conflict eachother, and aggressively.

He hated the way his own body was reacting, and yet, he could do nothing to stop it. He was at the mercy of this man entirely, the still more frequent, sweet pangs of pleasure passing through him over and over...But even those didn’t compare to the feeling that ignited within him as the fingers rubbed deep. Like fire, an overwhelming ache burned deep within his hips, a small sound managing to break free of his throat.

To Syrus, the voice that escaped him didn’t even sound as though it were his own. Not in the slightest.

He didn’t know what was happening to him, and he was powerless to resist it.

And then suddenly, the fingers within him retreated, along with the heat around his front...Leaving Syrus trembling against the bed...But only for a moment. It was far too soon for him to feel any sense of relief.

A soft rustling sound echoed just before something else pressed against him. Something bigger and hotter than the fingers that had been tormenting him just moments before.

Syrus didn’t have to think too hard to understand what was about to happen to him.

He tried to give one, final effort to get away, but it was soon crushed as his hips were grabbed firmly and tugged further back...And only an instant later, a searing heat began to press into him without mercy.

Syrus felt as though something inside him was crushed alongside that feeling of penetration, a strained cry breaking free from his throat in protest. Pain overtook him, the man’s fingers not holding a candle in comparison to his size. All Syrus could do was desperately try and bear the feeling of being bored into. Desperately try and bear the pain and humiliation.

Tears beaded along the corner of his eyes, but he wasn’t even granted the privilege of trying to bear his shame as the hand returned to his front, stroking him in time with each thrust, igniting a flurry of intolerable sensations throughout his body.

Of course...Syrus knew in the back of his mind that this act wasn’t out of kindness. Not in any way possible.

This man wanted to watch him sink. Wanted to watch him struggle. Wanted to see his shame and frustration.

Even if he wanted to escape, there was no way he could. Not from this man, nor from the feelings he forced throughout Syrus’ body.

All Syrus could do was try and keep up with his rhythm. Try to not break.

Suddenly, lights burst along his vision as the man pressed deep within him, an incredibly strong, sweet sensation bursting throughout his waist, before trickling throughout him slowly. He couldn’t bring himself to suppress the gasp that escaped him.

This man had Syrus exactly where he wanted him. The humiliation of it all truly felt like it was too much for Syrus...Rather than enduring this...He’d prefer to bite his own tongue off. The thought certainly was tantalizing, given the moment, but no sooner had Syrus shakily opened his mouth, the fingers holding his waist suddenly thrust into it, rubbing against his tongue.

“I don’t think so.” The commanding tone echoed by his ear before giving the tip a little nip.

Syrus wasn’t even allowed to try and salvage whatever little pride and dignity he had left. He could only remain at this man’s mercy as he drove him further and further into a corner.

Loose saliva that he was unable to swallow soon began trickling down his chin as he was driven higher and higher. He felt as though he was being gradually backed further and further into that invisible corner, unable to escape...Until his body finally hit that threshold, his back arching as his vision was dyed in pure white.

Any of his lingering thoughts or emotions immediately scattered, leaving him empty as his body fell limply against the bed with a soft thump.

In the back of his mind, he felt a strange warmth begin to spread into the pit of his stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His breathing rapid and shallow, he just laid there, still face-first against the sheets and no longer having the strength to fight back, words reaching his ears.

...But he wasn’t even sure he if he could hear them anymore.

He felt a finger stroke along the curve of his back, almost tenderly, lovingly...But Syrus knew that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Surely even those emotions would be twisted, coming from this man. Perhaps he had simply been imagining such a thing to begin with.

Whatever it was, Syrus didn’t understand.

He was hit by a deep sense of despair, feeling as though he was just falling farther and farther.

He wondered if he would ever be able to climb back up.