Batarian Captive: The Unbreakable Will of a Young Slave

“Hehe, yeah that was fucking hilarious! That little pig of a man, gods I hope that wasn’t an example of what the humans consider ‘fighting’.”

“You said it… Pig-Man didn’t even have a weapon. How the hell was he supposed to stop us? Har har…”

Lysander Shepard slowly and painfully came to. Aches and pains pushing away the heavy veil of weariness. Dull throbs from his broken ankle, wounded leg, and dented forehead beat in time to his pulse. Small tugs of his limbs revealed binds encircling his wrists and for reasons only known to his captors, his aching feet and ankles. His throat felt as though he’d tried to swallow a mouthful of sand, his eyes felt enormous, too big for his sockets, and his chest and stomach ached every time he inhaled.

“Ah! Look here, Shamul! The little one is awake!”

An overhead light was suddenly turned on, stabbing the boy’s puffy eyes, making him moan in pain.

“Urgh…” Was all he could make himself say. He jumped as rough fingers seized his chin and pulled upwards until his neck was craned painfully, and he was looking into the eyes of Geoul.

“Humph…A bit worse for wear.” Geoul muttered, turning the boy’s head to survey the damage. Rage gave Lysander momentarily gave Lysander enough strength to wrench away from the batarian’s grip, growling as he did. Geoul cackled, and lit a fat cigar in his mouth, “Not bad, pretty good even. This one has some fight in him.” He looked over his shoulder, “More than I can say for the rest of these sorry sacks.” Shamul glided into view, eyes on the prisoners, Lysander’s countrymen, lined against the wall opposite him. Shamul stopped in front of a stout woman whom Lysander recognized as Martha, the owner of his father’s favorite deli. ‘Father…’ He thought, as tears clouded his vision.

Shamul raised a hand to the woman, who whimpered, cringing away from him as far as she could. “Strange, isn’t it, Geoul?” The batarian stroked a finger down the woman’s battered cheek, through the silent tears rolling down her face. “We’ve been doing this for what? Thirty years? All the humans we’ve captured have been like little sheep. Like this one.” He said softly, continuing to stroke the woman’s face. “But this one,” he looked over to Lysander, who was openly glaring back, venom streaming from his eyes. He walked over to the boy, leaning forward until their foreheads were almost touching. “This one is so young, and yet so much stronger. Isn’t it strange, Geoul?” His cohort cackled again, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I think I know where this is going. Where do you want him?” Lysander paused in his glaring. He looked around at Geoul who was smirking at him, to Shamul, whose alien and poker straight face made his expression unreadable.

“What…what’re you talking about?” He croaked. Shamul stood back and pointed at a support beam in the middle of the room. “Put ‘im there.” Lysander sputtered in pain as he was hauled to his feet and marched/dragged across the room, he could make out several of his neighbor’s faces, as well as Mica’s teacher. Geoul bound him to the support pole with Lysander kneeling on the floor, pole digging into one shoulder with his feet behind him. Shamul came to stand in front of him; he stood casually, head to one side.

“You have a lot of fight in you, boy… What’s your name?” Lysander rose as much as he could and hissed through through his clenched teeth :

“Go…fuck yourself.”

There was a collective gasp from around him, but he didn’t care. All he knew since he awoke was hatred, Lysander no longer cared if he lived or died, he would not play games for his life. His life ended with a single shot of a pistol. Revenge and anger were all he knew.

Shamul threw his head back and laughed a deep belly laugh, echoed by the other batarians in the room. He looked back at the boy, wiping a purple tear from his eye. Geoul approached and toed the boy’s destroyed ankle, eliciting a yelp. “Watch who you’re talkin’ to brat-ARGH!” Lysander reared on his ruined ankle and shot out his good foot, connecting with the batarian’s leg. “You miserable little shit!” Geoul hissed, grabbing the boy’s bad foot and squeezing for all he was worth. White spots danced in Lysander’s view, he gritted his teeth in an effort to remain silent. He wasn’t going to give the bastard an inch. “Enough.” Shamul said quietly, all the while watching Lysander’s face. Geoul limped away, grumbling, as Shamul filled Lysander’s view. He knelt and leaned into the boy’s face and whispered, “You are truly above the rest, boy… I watched grown men sit in this room, crying and pleading for me to release them. Big men, strong men.” He smiled then, and his smile filled Lysander with fear, he fought to control his face. “But you won’t, will you? You won’t beg…you don’t have anything to lose anymore, your family is dead…you’re all alone.”

Shamul stroked the boy’s face. “If you ask me nicely, if you beg properly, I might just let you go…” The rage that had been extinguished by momentary fear had reignited. Lysander leaned forward and spat in the batarian’s face. A roar behind him from Geoul and a swift kick in the leg quickly followed. It wasn’t until Lysander felt the cold metal of a gun against his back did Shamul intervene. “That’s enough, Geoul.” Both Geoul and Lysander looked around, surprised. Shamul wiped the boy’s spit from his face, the sinister smile still intact. He stood and walked behind Lysander. “Enough of the games I think, eh, Geoul?” His minion gave an evil laugh. Shamul then grabbed hold of Lysander’s pants and pulled until the pooled around the young man’s feet. As realization dawned upon Lysander he shouted, kicking wildly. Two batarians approached, each grabbing a shoulder, holding the boy fast to the support beam. Shamul whistled as he stretched the boy’s buttocks, exposing his puckered hole. “Well, well…if this doesn’t look ever so inviting?” He said coyly, pawing at it. Lysander flinched and shouted again, “Get off, you son of a bitch! I’ll KILL you, you cock sucking-”

“There won’t be any cock-sucking…as of yet.” Shamul purred. Lysander screamed as a cold liquid coated his hole and the batarian slowly rubbed lubricant in and around it. The batarian then raised himself and poised himself at the boy’s entrance. “Ly…” He looked around wildly to see Mica’s teacher, Samson, the only human in the room that would meet his eyes. “Just…just put yourself somewhere else, Ly. Pretend you aren’t here, do that, and you will survive…It’s what I…” He trailed off, eyes beginning water, and dropped his gaze. Shamul grunted, the batarians laughed, and a splitting pain shot into Lysander’s body from his ass. The pain was never ending; with each slow push Lysander felt filthy, used.

Put yourself somewhere else.

Lysander shut his eyes tight and clung to the beam.

Not every day your young man turns sixteen!

Canni help you, Wy? Canni-canni?!

Work like a machine!

No wanna, Mommy no wann-“Oh, this one is just divine! If he were any tighter I’d have to-” It doesn’t help you’ve been trying to frighten me since you ten.

Hard work that has been recognized and- “Mmmmm, I think I’m keeping this one to myself, boys. He’s much to tasty to pass around…Hehe…You all might stretch him too far, ‘specially you Shafur.”

“Aw, boss, why you gotta be like-” Surpassed us all again, did he, Ralph? That he did, that he- “Almost there…almost there, sweet boy…” Lysander felt sick; Shamul’s slow pushes had gone to full throttle thrusting, pushing the boy against the beam faster and faster. He felt a sudden pop, and the pain was gone and replaced, to Lysander’s horror, by arousal. The batarian’s meat pushed and prodded at his prostate, exciting the boy’s traitorous body. “Look, there, boss! His dick is hard! I think the boy is seeing things your way, har har.” Lysander shook his head muttering to himself, “No no no no no no…” Shamul leaned forward and wrapped a hand around the boy’s cock. “Oh, yes yes yes yes yes! You may not want this, but your body knows a good time when it feels one, oh yesssss…!” The batarian came, filling Lysander with his seed, Shamul leaned back, letting his softening member fall from the boy’s channel. He patted Lysander on the back and stood, fixing himself.

He sauntered around to Lysander’s front and knelt in the boy’s face, grinning from ear to ear. “How about now, still feeling as if there’s nothing I can do to you anymore?” Lysander swallowed his fury and schooled a calm face before raising his gaze to meet the batarian’s. Shamul’s smile faltered slightly, “Hmm, not enough for you, eh? Maybe I should let Shafur have a go?” Lysander felt himself slowly losing the fight with his fear, as an enormous and savage looking batarian loomed into view. Shamul noticed the boy’s fear and chuckled again, standing up straight and rubbing his crotch absently. He spoke without looking around to the batarians, “I think I’ll be keeping this one, boys…I like him.” A deep and resounding groan sounded throughout the room, and Shamul frowned, moving to caress his pistol. “Anyone who has a problem with that, speak up by all means.” Lysander had heard the term, ‘thunderous silence’, but had never actually seen one.

The surrounding batarians remained silent, and Shamul gestured to someone behind Lysander. A human girl with one eye and a severe limp stumbled into view, handing something to Shamul and receiving a smack that sent her sprawling. “That’ll do, Sarah, get going.” Sarah stared at the floor, tears rolling from one eye, then stood, bowed, and scurried out of sight. Shamul approached Lysander, an arrogant smile decorating his face. He brandished a long rope attached to a green collar. “This one just goes so well with your eyes, don’t you think?” Shamul inquired lightly. Lysander bared his teeth,

“Touch me with that thing, and I’ll rip your arms off.” He hissed. The batarians hollered in laughter, but Shamul stood still, studying Lysander’s face. “I think if given the opportunity, little one, you’d do just that, wouldn’t you?” Lysander opened his mouth to respond; only to shout in fear when something grabbed hold of his rear. Shafur the hulking batarian was grinning at him, rubbing his monstrous cock against the boy’s naked backside through his own pants.

“He’s too feisty, lemme at him, boss…I can train him up reeeeal good for ya!” Shafur was the only one to laugh at this, and it was short lived; Shamul advanced, fury coming off of him in waves. Shafur scrambled away from the boy, muttering apologies as he went. “Sorry, boss, meant nothing by it…” The room was silent as a tomb, no one, batarian or human dared to speak. Shamul waved two batarians forward, who seized the boy to hold him still as Shamul tied the collar around his neck. Lysander hissed and struggled fruitlessly, this time to no taunts. When they stepped away, Lysander was tethered. Shamul cut the ties holding the boy to the support beam and gave a sharp pull, sending the boy coughing and gagging towards him. However, once the batarian was within strike distance, Lysander lashed out; aiming a punch at the batarian’s gut from the floor. Shamul caught the boy’s wrist and pulled the boy to stand completely on his damaged legs. Lysander opened his mouth to yell out in pain, only to be pulled into a surprisingly gentle embrace. Shamul snaked a hand under the boy’s legs and in an instant, was cradling him against his chest. Without a word to anyone, Shamul walked toward the door, the boy still in his arms.

Creak!

Creak!

Creak!

“Uhh! Good gods, you have to be the tightest-oh my-I can’t believe how amazing you are!”

Lysander closed his eyes, wishing more than anything for it to be over. It had been almost six months since his family had been massacred, he had watched his friends and neighbors loaded up and sold off to other species with hungry looks in their eyes. Ricky, a boy he and Richard had gone to school with, had attempted to run one day in the market. He was put under Shafur’s tender care for his transgression, and still walked with a limp. Martha and Samson were dead; a batarian had decided to take the woman for the fourth consecutive time in their sleeping quarters, and Samson silently choked the batarian to death. Martha had panicked, she screamed long and loud, mind finally broken. They were both discovered and executed right then and there.

Lysander was little more than arm candy for Shamul. After the damage to his legs had been rectified, Shamul had had the boy every night, and every night Lysander came closer and closer to climaxing himself. The entire situation made him feel nauseous.

Shamul, for his part, was alarmingly attentive to the boy. Two hot meals twice a day, a best clothes to wear, and the lightest duties to perform. Lysander often overheard the batarians talking about his treatment.

“I don’t get why Shamul is so obsessed with the boy… He's just so disobedient!”

“Maybe he’s just that good in bed?”

“Feh! Please, nobody is that good! Shamul ought to either kill the boy or have his mind scrambled if he’s so determined to make a sex toy out of him!”

Lysander closed his eyes as he recalled Khanna, his mother’s best friend. Other than himself, she was the one who fought her captivity the hardest. In

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THE END