Chapter Text
Mo Guanshan can remember a time where his life was different. He lived in a small apartment with his mom, and while they often struggled for even the necessities? Life was.. life was ok. Well, not so much his school life but at least his home life was ok.
At school, he was seen as a delinquent, as early in as his elementary years. All because of some rumors and lies. After a few years he had gotten to the point where he figured that if he was going to be seen as a delinquent, he might as well act like it. He got into fights, he became quick to anger, he’d skip classes.. you know, the typical delinquent stuff.
But that’s not who he was, not really at his core.. and perhaps if that was who he really was, he wouldn’t currently be in this predicament. This predicament that’s chased him for years and years to come..
Mo can still remember the day his life was ripped away from him. He had been walking home from school, when he had heard a noise from a near by alleyway. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, leading him to take a peek into the alleyway. He had seen a man, clearly homeless and perhaps a bit out of his mind, mumbling incoherently while digging through a trash bin. And Mo, he had felt bad for the man..
Gods, does he wish sometimes that he had just kept walking.
Mo had walked up the man, calling for him. Asking if he was hungry and offering his leftover sandwich from lunch.. that was the exact moment everything started to go downhill. The man, perhaps drugged up or intoxicated, had turned and grabbed him. It was a back and forth, before his head had been slammed against the brick wall. He still remembers the pain that had radiated through the back of his skull. Causing him to not even notice when the homeless man’s hands left him..
The next thing he knew, a solid force was slamming into the side of his head, affectively knocking him out. Mo was never quite sure what happened when he blocked out. All he knew was that when he woke up, he was no longer in that ally. He was in a faintly lit room, which he would come to find out is a basement. He was sitting on a mattress, a cuff locked firmly around his wrist. The other end of the cuff was locked through a long line of thick chained, which looped around a support beam. He had enough give to stand and walk a few feet, that was it..
Mo’s head had still been pounding, and dried blood could be felt along his temple. He was awake for a mere thirty minutes, before he heard the door at the top of the stairs unlocking. A tall, burly man had made his way down the stairs, and little Mo had pushed himself against the support beam. Because even if he’s been in some fights, he was still but a fourteen year old High-schooler. And he’d never fought a grown man..
Oh gods, did he wish he had never gone down that ally. Did he wish he never approached that damned homeless man. Did he wish he never showed that fear, which had only made the disgusting man and all his followers either smirk or sneer. Did he wish that he simply listened to what he was told to do, instead of letting his pride over rule his basic survival instincts..
He wished he had found a way to escape.
-
That fateful day occurred a little over ten years later. Ten years of brutal punishments, rape, starvation and malnutrition. Ten years of slowly loosing himself, hardly able to remember the face of his own mother and father. Ten years, going from a teenage delinquent to a minor gangs fuck toy. Ten years.. now twenty-four, wishing and praying for the sweet release of death. But fate never did want to go his way, nor did it ever fail to surprise him..
Over the course of those ten years, he was hardly ever let out of that basement. It had been a year before he was allowed, and it was never for anything good. Sometimes he had been used so the leader of the gang, a man that forced him to call him master over the course of several excruciating punishments, could get out of a payment. Sometimes he was brought up as a means of entertainment, made to cook for and serve men who would be allowed to grope and touch him as they pleased. If he were lucky, and if he was good? Really, really good? He was allowed a peek outside, a few minutes to simply look..
The point, is Mo Guanshan can’t remember ever being brought out of the basement for anything other than pain and humiliation, on levels far past what would be given if someone came down to the basement for awhile. And today, as the chain was unlocked from his collar and his bicep grabbed to drag him to his feet, Mo didn’t expect anything different. The cuffs had been temporary, and he still remembers when he was held down but a week into his visit. How the collar had been latched on, and how they had threatened to melt the latch in place if he ever took it off..
Mo had believed it to be a bluff, and had taken the collar off for his first escape attempt.. sometimes he feels along the burn mark on the back of his neck, and he wishes he had simply kept the damned collar on.
Mo has to bite back a whimper as he’s dragged up the stairs. He’s sure his arm will be bruised later, and worse yet he’s sure those will be the most minor of his upcoming injuries. He notes the man seems panicked, said man being one of the lower members of the gang. Which means surely, tonight he will be used to help repay some of the groups debt to some stronger gang.. he feels like he’s going to be sick.
Mo keeps his head down, and he’s sure if it wasn’t for himself being held up and dragged along he would have already collapsed to his knees. His heart feels like it’s mere seconds away from pounding out of his chest, refusing to calm down no matter how deep he attempts to make his breathing.
Within a mere minute, he’s dragged to what he assumes is the sitting room, before being shoved forward. Mo winces as he feels the rug scrape under his knees, surely giving him rug burn. But he’s quick to lower his head to the scratchy carpet, knowing full well what happens when he doesn’t cooperate.
The room is silent, and he can feel someone’s gaze gliding over him. Mo has to hold in his shutter of discomfort. All he has to hide his dignity is a pair of thin boxers. Whoever is looking him over has a clear view of the scars that litter his back, letting everyone know what a horribly disobedient slave he is. Another thing he wishes he could go back and change. He wishes he had just been good, because maybe if he was he’d be treated better. Maybe those who are allowed to do with him as they please wouldn’t snicker. Wouldn’t talk about what a bad boy he is, who seems to enjoy punishment so much that he has lasting scars to show for it.
As the silence stretches on, and as he begins to wonder if his thudding heart beat can be heard, someone finally speaks. Mo can feel himself tensing all over when he hears them. Their voice is deep, radiating authority and demanding respect. But that’s not quite what terrified him.. it was the anger. The unadulterated rage that filtered through. The tone only made him shutter, before desperately trying to push himself closer to the floor.
“ What the hell is this? “ He hears the voice snarl. Mo clenches his eyes shut, muscles tensing in preparation for whatever pain he’s sure will be inflicted soon. His master is the one to respond, and it surprises him to hear how.. nervous his cruelest abuser sounds. Who could this man be, to make even his master stumble over his words?
“ Well, uh.. hope-hopefully, the other half of our payment. “ His master says, making little Mo bite his lower lip. The other half? How big is this payment? How much will he be expected to do and endure..?
“ You can do whatever you want with him! We, we’ve had many others who were satisfied after having a go with him. He may be a guy, but he’s a good fuck, and he knows to sit still through whatever you wish upon him. “ Mo clenches his fists, desperately trying to hold in his trembling. He swears, the anger that radiated from the man only increases as his master speaks. Is he.. is he that displeasing? That the mere thought of him being used as payment could cause so much anger..?
Silence stretched on for a moment longer, before Mo can hear someone moving. Little Mo bites his lower lip hard, faintly able to taste a hint of blood, before shutting his eyes tight when the movement stops in front of him. He expected a few things to potentially happen. Perhaps some sneered and mocking words, or a kick to the ribs. Maybe his hair would be grabbed and his head forced back so his face could be inspected..
Well, I suppose that last one was close. Being so expectant of pain, a surprised gasp leaves little Mo when a hand moves in his peripheral, having never noticed when the man squatted down in front of him. The hand quickly dips down, before grabbing his chin to raise his head up. His heart stutters, mentally wincing. He knows he’s to be quiet, to let others do as they wish to him. Yelping and flinching and the like are signs of resistance, a want outside of whoever currently holds his life in their hands.
Mo can practically feel his masters glare on the back of his head, making him bite back a whimper. He can almost feel the lingering ache and sting that glare promises.. Even with his head raised, Mo keeps his gaze down towards the floor. His vision blurs, and all he can do is pray his tears don’t slip down on to this strangers hand. A stranger who can very well be allowed to do whatever he wishes to him.. gods, he’s screwed.
“ I.. I’m sorry. “ He manages to rasp out. The hold on his chin tightens ever so slightly. Mo quickly squeezes his eyes shut, choking back a sob when he can feel those built up tears slide down his cheeks. They surely land on this strangers hand, promising further future pain.
“ This slave is sorry. “ He says quietly, voice nearly sounding like it’s scraping against the inside of his raw throat. He desperately makes his tone as soft as he can, switching his wording around to come off as subservient as possible. At times, it can lessen the pain planned for him. “ This, this slave knows it’s not allowed to do, or say anything to contradict its superiors wants. “
Mo gulps down a quickly forming lump, feeling cold all over. “ It will, will accept any pun-punishment, you wish to bestow. “ He mumbles. He wants to beg for no punishment, no pain at all. But surely this will only make this stranger angrier, especially when he’s meant to be pleasing enough to pay for the rest of his masters debt..
The silence stretches on once more, and Mo mentally wishes that the man would just get it over with. And for a second, he thinks he will when his hold relinquishes his chin. Mo dips his head down, body stiffening in preparation..
“ Straighten up. “ He hears the strangers deep voice utter, nearly sounding soft. That can’t be right though. Surely no soft tone could ever be used with him. Even so, he quickly straightens up on his knees, because a order is an order no matter what tone is used.
There’s a reason Mo hates when his master, or those given command over him act out of the ordinary. Sure, the ordinary is filled with pain and humiliation. At least, though, he can prepare. At least he can guess what’s about to happen and he knows how to behave.
But when they act out of the ordinary, it’s as if his training goes right out the window. Right now, for instance, when an arm scoops under his legs and braces against his back to lift his much too frail frame.
He can’t hold back his yelp, or the tears that quickly bubble up again. Because he keeps screwing up, fucking over any chance of even a sliver of mercy once he’s taken to a room by this stranger. Fucking over any mercy he could get from his master, who’s surely giving a glare promising all sorts of pain.
Mo doesn’t even have the time to properly apologize at first, what with how he’s being maneuvered around in the strangers arms. He’s soon pressed to the man’s chest, his leg’s subsequently meant to rest near his waist. A hand presses against his back, stabilizing him..
Typically, this is when Mo is meant to put on a bit of a show. Grind against whoever’s holding him, kiss and nip along their neck and collar bone to show how well he’s trained, how eager they want him to seem. He can’t though, not with the panic that courses through him as he realizes exactly what he’d done.
Mo bites his lower lip to keep it from trembling, his body going stiff in preparation for the repercussions he’s sure he’s about to face.
“ Sir, this slave- it, it’s sorry, so sorry, please, it promises to do better, please- “
Mo is interrupted as the hand on his back slides up to the back of his head. His sentence cuts off, breath catching in his throat. He expected to feel his hair get harshly gripped, forcing his head back, something..
But all he feels is the back of his head being cupped, before it’s being pushed closer to the strangers neck.
“ Set your head on my shoulder, facing my neck, there we go little red.. “ The stranger says, tone oddly still coming off as soft as Mo quickly follows orders, desperate to show he can be good. That all his fuck ups were accidents, that he doesn’t deserve to be beaten black and blue..
The name used for him does catch his attention, for just a second. Because it’s something nice. It’s not cruel or demeaning, like when his master calls him a bitch, or a slut, or a whore..
His attention snaps back into focus as the hand on his head slips back down to his back. Surely, him being able to follow one order couldn’t save him from the punishments he’s earned. Perhaps this stranger wants to administer them in private..?
Mo can feel the man moving now, turning before walking in some direction. He isn’t sure where, what with his face hidden away. He holds back a flinch, stiffening when his master speaks up and the man holding him stops.
“ So, this means we’re good, right? We’re square? “ His master asks. Mo can hear the stranger hum, can feel the vibrations through his chest.
“ Cover your ears, as best you can. “ That deep, oddly soft voice mumbles to him. So, with a quickly mumbled “ Yes sir. “, he slowly shifts his head so one ear is pressed against the man’s shoulder. All before he raises one of his own shaky hands to cover his uncovered ear.
A bit muffled, he can hear the man holding him say, “ He’s quite the prize.. but he won’t be paying off your debt. “
It takes everything in Mo not to struggle, to not scream as the soft toned man begins to walk again. The muffled sound of gun shots echoing after them.