Mekhi, tired by an evening's hard work at the restaurant, doffed his apron and donned his jacket. It was an hour before closing, 11:00 pm, and he needed to get home since it was up at 6:00 am for school. He sighed with resignation. Although he wished he didn't have to work, his parents, both Ethiopian, had a strong work ethic and had insisted. Every two weeks, at fifteen hours a week, Mekhi turned over his paycheck to them, just like his brothers did.
Well, he thought, they were poor, and every little bit helped. What didn't help was being black in this southern pit of a town where he faced rejection from the whites for his color and from the blacks because he was an immigrant. Life sucks, he thought, and then you die.
In the restroom he washed his face, trying to remove some of the grease, which naturally accumulated over his entire body. He shuddered at the thought and looked into the mirror. At fifteen he was handsome in that classic Ethiopian way, with kinky black hair, a broad, smooth forehead, and sparse eyebrows over shining dark eyes and a wide, white smile.
All his features were delicate, including his wide, finely shaped, small nose, his generous, small mouth, his fine cheekbones, and his narrow waist giving way to full, firm buttocks and athletic legs. At five foot, two and ninety-five pounds, he was a truly stunning fifteen-year-old boy and promised to be even more so as he aged, his smoky-hued skin only accenting his beauty.
Sighing, he stepped out the back door and started on his nightly trek home. Lost in a daze of exhaustion he didn't notice the truck pulling up behind him until it was just beside him and the boy driving yelled, "Hey Mekhi, working hard?" to the laughter of the boy sharing the cab with him and the three boys in the bed of the truck.
Looking up he saw that it was Bill, Donny, Greg, Callum, and Rob in the truck, a small high school clique of seniors who took great delight in tormenting him as one of the few blacks who went to their school. Used to their abuse, he lowered his head, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and walked on, trying his best to ignore them.
He heard their voices and wondered why they were not shouting epithets at him, and was startled when he heard feet hit the ground. Quickly looking around, he saw that Donny, Greg, and Callum had jumped out of the bed of the truck and were charging at him. Panicked, he turned and tried to flee, only to take three steps before they were on him. His body flew through the air and landed heavily as someone tackled him knocking the wind from him when he hit the ground.
He scrabbled frantically to get back up, to flee but was knocked back to the ground by a fist driving into his kidney. Pain exploded in his back and side as he rolled about in pain, only to be met by a shoe slamming into his stomach, doubling him up. Then he was being kicked and hit all over his torso and legs, the blows raining down on him, thudding dully against his body. He was rolled up in a fetal position, his arms covering his head and face as they pummeled him, pain and the brute force of their attack jerking his body around on the ground. He didn't know how long they beat him, but he quickly dropped into a dull, distancing state as shock set in. He remained curled up when they stopped beating him, his mind empty of anything.
He didn't react when he heard one of the boys yell, "Come on, get him in the truck," and felt hands grip him and toss him into the bed of the truck. The jarring of his body against the truck bed snapped him back into the world. He rolled onto his back and tried to sit up, his body aching from the beating, but was thrown back by a hard slap across his face. When he looked up again, feeling the truck moving beneath him, he stared straight into the barrel of a .38 pistol set snugly in Donny's hand while Greg and Callum looked on, expressions of eager anticipation on their faces. Mekhi trembled. He was terrified now, his eyes frozen on the end of the pistol just inches from his face.
"Now, faggot," Donny drawled, "put your hands above your head."
Still staring at the end of the gun, Mekhi slowly moved his arms above his head, feeling all the aches and bruises throughout his body from the beating he had taken earlier. Oh god, he thought, and shook in fear and closed his eyes as Donny gently caressed his cheek with the gun.
"Open wide," Donny said.
Donny pressed the barrel of the gun against Mekhi’s lips until he parted them slightly. He shivered and felt the knot of fear in his stomach tighten as Donny slid the cold, smooth barrel of the pistol between his lips and into his mouth, his eyes large and white as he used them to plead with Donny.
"Now suck on it, cocksucker," he growled softly.
With a whimper he obeyed him, drawing in his cheeks as he began to suck on the gun, which Donny slowly dragged in and out of his mouth. Callum looked on at the Mekhi’s humiliation and fear with growing satisfaction. At six foot, two and one hundred fifty pounds, both Rob and he were the All-American boys of the high school. What right, Callum thought to himself, does a fucking, stinking, nigger faggot like this have to go to their school? He would make him pay and pay.
Greg looked on, his shock of dark hair tossing in the wind. He rubbed his cock through his pants in anticipation, he would get a shot at the faggot — of that he had no doubt. If the others didn't demand it, he would just take Mekhi and rape the fuck out of him — with an ass like that, it was what he was made for anyway.
Mekhi closed his eyes as tears began running down the side of his face, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucked on the end of Donny's pistol. His mind and body quailed as he felt Donny’s hand on his stomach, pushing up his shirt until he could feel his hand against his flesh. Goosebumps rose on his flesh from the chill and from the contact of Donny’s hand as he rubbed it against his flat, firm stomach. His eyes snapped open as he felt other hands on his hips, undoing the buttons on his jeans. He made a muffled sound and tried to raise his head up when the gun was forced far back against his throat, making him gag, and Donny was leaning over him.
"Don't you move, faggot. Don't you move one little bit, got it?" Donny spit his words out angrily.
Mekhi nodded, his mouth still around the gun, and stared, frozen like a bird by a snake, up into Donny’s blue eyes. His lips still around the muzzle of his gun as hands continued to pull his jeans down his legs until they were bunched around his knees, and he heard Greg whistle over the wind.
"Whewee. Nice. He's got even bigger cock than you Callum."
"Shut the fuck up, Greg. Are you saying this nigger faggot is better than me?"
Greg just smiled at Callum. Callum turned angrily to Mekhi and tore his shoes and socks off before pulling the boy’s jeans from his body.
"Now Callum, I didn't mean it like that. But, you have to admit he's got a big one on him."
"And, wouldn't you love to see those pretty, little legs of his pulled wide, jerking and trembling as someone whipped his balls?"
"Yesss," Callum hissed as he pictured the black boy being abused like that. "Yes, I would."
Mekhi whimpered through the gun when he heard them speaking. What were they saying? Rape? Whipping? What were they going to do to him? He was so terrified he began shaking uncontrollably, wishing he were anywhere else, even dead.
They were all lost in their own thoughts. A silence fell over the back of the truck as Donny slowly pulled the pistol from the young teenager's mouth. Donny knew that he wasn't thinking straight, knew that the mere thought of having such a hot piece of meat to do anything he wanted with was driving him nuts. Most of all he wanted to hurt the faggot, to make him scream and beg and cry and plead with him to stop hurting him, to see his smooth, silky flesh quiver, tremble, and break under his blows. It was almost too much for him.
Greg was wondering which of the nigger’s holes he wanted to fuck first. It had gone this far, he thought, might as well take something away from it, and a good fuck of a hot ass like Mekhi would be just what he ordered.
Callum just wanted to see the little nigger faggot humiliated, and was busy thinking up the best way to do so. He was a little wary of Donny, though: he had never seen him so intense. He figured it didn't matter that much, and then remembered that Greg had a couple of dogs.
Mekhi went into a state of semi-shock as Donny lightly caressed the nigger’s face with the pistol, his eyes crazy as he looked at him, his hand hot against the flesh of his thighs. Mekhi was like a trapped animal, acting solely on instinct: now was the time to lay still, to do nothing. Sometime in the future, it would be a chance to flee, and flee he would, but not now.
For Mekhi, the ride went on and on, but in reality, they pulled up to Greg's home, sitting placidly on fifty acres and set well back from the main road, the tires kicking up gravel from the long, wide driveway, only fifteen minutes later. They had chosen this hangout since his parents were gone for the week. Mekhi was just an added bonus.
As the truck lurched to a skidding halt, Mekhi sprang into motion. With his shoulder he knocked Donny's gun hand and body out of his way and sprung up and out of the truck bed all in one fluid motion, fear and desperation giving him inhuman agility. Hitting the ground hard in bare feet he stumbled to his hands and knees for a moment before he stood and started in a full sprint back toward the road.
Angry voices sounded behind him, and the sound of pursuit followed. He may have escaped had he not stumbled, but after merely fifty yards of freedom he was grabbed from behind and dragged down, the gravel of the roadway skinning up his legs, arms, and stomach. He struggled maniacally in Greg's grip, punching and biting and kicking, to no avail as Callum, Rob, Bill, and Donny caught up and together held him down.
"Let me go! Stop! Please!" he wailed as they turned him onto his back.
They held him spread-eagled against the ground, Donny and Bill holding his legs and the Rob and Callum holding his arms while Greg sat on his stomach.
"Stupid, nigger faggot," Callum hissed to himself, his blood pressure up from the chase. Louder, he said, "Someone shut the faggot up!"
"Here, Greg," Bill motioned, handing him his knife, a wicked looking six-inch blade, "cut him if he keeps yowling."
Greg took the knife reluctantly. Not really wanting to ruin a gorgeous piece of meat like Mekhi, but then again, this wasn't really his ballgame. He slapped Mekhi face hard several times, each time yelling, "Shut up," until it finally registered and Mekhi looked fearfully up at Greg as he waved the knife in front of his face.
His head rocked hard back and forth as Greg slapped him, and finally, he stopped screaming and begging, hearing him for the first time. Then his eyes caught the glint of the knife in the moonlight, and he froze, entranced by the flickering blade.
"Well, well, well," Greg said, seeing that they had things under control, "seems our little Mekhi needs a lesson. What kind of punishment do you think he deserves for trying to run away from us?"
Punishment, punishment? Mekhi's mind screamed even as his eyes remained locked on the blade in Greg's hand. They had beaten him, kidnapped him, made his suck the barrel of a gun, stripped him, and then tackled his bruised body and held him down against the hard gravel in the middle of the night, and now they were talking about punishing him? His mind screamed in protest, but he remained silent.
"Fuck him," Rob's soft voice said, and Greg looked up at him in amazement, seeing a look on his face that he had never before seen, a look of sexual hunger, "fuck him in the dirt and make him beg for it."
Callum laughed and cried, "Come on, go for it guys. He'll love it — all nigger faggots do."
Mekhi framed the word "No" with his lips, but no sound came out. He was terrified, terrified both for his life and his body, terrified knowing now that there was no length to which they would not go. All he could think about was getting out of this alive. Oh, god, he was too young to die.
Although the boys hesitated at this suggestion, they didn't hesitate long. Both Donny and Bill pulled the nigger’s firm, shapely legs further apart, ceding first shot to Greg, while Greg slid down his body until he was sitting on his thighs.
Mekhi had only his t-shirt on now, and he felt completely exposed. The gravel bit into his back and ass as Greg draped himself over him. He began to cry as he realized what was about to happen. He felt the knifepoint at his chin at the same time he felt his cock press against his virgin asshole and shuddered.
"Tell me you want it," Greg hissed, his face just inches from Mekhi’s. "Beg me to fuck you."
Sobbing, he said it as the knife drew blood.
"Oh, please, fuck me. Please. I want it. I want you to fuck me.”
He was cut off as Greg’s hand covered his mouth and his hips jerking forward as he repeatedly tried to jam his cock into Mekhi’s tight, unyielding, virgin asshole.
"Mmmfff," he cried out into his mouth as his body arched in agony, his virgin asshole yielding only slowly to Greg’s onslaught. His muscles cramped as more of Greg’s cock entered him, and with one more thrust, his agony was complete.
"AAAHHHGGG!” he screamed.
Greg removed his hand from Mekhi’s mouth, his head thrown back as he screamed the scream of the damned as he felt his asshole being torn as Greg’s cock surged upward to bury itself fully inside him.
Mekhi collapsed back onto the ground, chest heaving and heart beating, pain invading every part of his being, and began squirming uncontrollably beneath his rapist, trying somehow to escape as he methodically began pumping in and out of his torn asshole.
Greg was in heaven inside by far the tightest fuckhole he'd ever had. His head was at Mekhi’s neck and shoulder, biting, sucking, and kissing as he worked himself inside nigger’s clenching asshole. Callum and Ron were watching, which turned him on that much more. His squirming beneath him made it even better. Hell, the best.
It wasn't long before Greg felt his balls tighten and that impending tingling from his loins. He humped faster, Mekhi’s moans of pain and the encouragement from his friends were further exciting him, and he shot load after load into Mekhi’s ravaged asshole in the best cum of his life.
Mekhi cringed inside as he felt Greg fill him with his seed. The pain was still there, as was the degradation and humiliation, but he had lost his will to fight. He knew he would have to suffer four more rapes, but that didn't matter — he was already beaten.
Rob stared with a maniacal intensity at Mekhi's rape, his beautiful, blue eyes wide with lust. It was such a rush, such a rush to see — no, to have — such a nigger faggot like Mekhi humiliated, broken, raped in the dirt like a animal. He felt a warm glow wash over his body as he watched Mekhi struggle beneath his rapist, and his hand crept down to his own cock. It was hard, so hard and wet, he began to fondle himself, feeling his own orgasm building as he watched Greg about to cum.
Callum loved what he was seeing. Who would have thought Ron would have suggested it? No matter, the black fag was getting just what he deserved. Probably loving it too, for all the crying, begging, and screaming he was performing.
Donny harrumphed to himself as he watched Greg come inside the faggot. He could do better than that. The faggot had only really screamed once. He got up to prove himself as Greg rolled off him.
Bill actually felt a little sorry for Mekhi. Not that he thought the nigger was really human or anything like that, but even animals deserved a little kindness. Of course, when they started getting out of control, they needed a little schooling — it just didn't need to be quite so brutal. He shrugged to himself. He knew he was going to take his pleasure — he was hard as hell — he just didn't have to be as thoughtless as Greg or brutal as he knew Donny was about to be.
Donny told the Greg and Bill to pull Mekhi's legs until his knees were wide apart to either side of his head and his body was bent double, his ass way up in the air. Mekhi had difficulty breathing but was almost beyond caring. He barely reacted when Donny brutally thrust himself balls deep into his asshole — the pain lingering in his balls was worse.
Mekhi screamed as Donny insensately punch fucked his asshole while his hands pulled and jerked his balls. He finally blacked out, unconsciousness finally overtaking his numb mind with welcome oblivion.