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Nowhere	By : FrostDragon Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1989 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any horror movie you probably may recognise this from. This is a non profit work of fiction and should be seen as such.

Chapter List
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- 2
Nowhere – By Dragon Frost
NOW WITH PROLOGUE!!!!!
Summary: Ryou, Yugi, Yami, Kaiba, Jou and Honda are enjoying a relaxing holiday in Egypt, when they are suddenly left stranded in the middle of the desert. Thinking its best to wait and walk at nightfall, the heat and tension soon gets to them and they turn on one another. When nigthtime finally arrives. It becomes clear they are not as alone as they first thought. Hunted down, one by one, the teens are taken captive by a madman that lives underneath the sand. Each one is tortured severely but spared just as long as Ryou submits himself to their captor. The gang now have an oppotunity to survive and figure their escape, but just how long can Ryou last?
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh is owned by its proper creator, and any horror movie refernece you may see belong to its creator (I day this because believe it or not, I don't watch horror, at all).
Ch.0 Prologue
Screams…
Such beautiful screams…They were more heavenly than the fairest of choirs, filled with more emotion then the sincerest of love confession and more beautiful than the deepest hues of roses.
And he enjoyed every second of it.
He thrust back into the tight passage and the boy screamed louder, his body arched, his hair stuck to the sides of his face from the amount of sweat glistening their bodies. The foreigner’s body was a marvellous sight, the skin ever so soft, the firmness of muscles in his long athletic legs from regular exercise. Not to mention the muscles along his abs, that all but quivered under his caress. He ran his blood coated fingers over them and they boy flinched away at the touch, moaning pathetically under his control. How long had it been since he let the boy cum, two days, maybe four?
“Please, please no more. I can’t take it, please take it off.” The boy moan in ecstasy as he felt those fingers explore lower and toy with the string, tied firmly around his testicles.
The captor grinned into the naked boy’s creamy shoulder, sucking hard on the spot he knew well enough to make his captive cry against his own words. Yes the body was too easy to bend to his will, be he couldn’t let his toy enjoy himself too much. Reaching behind, he grabbed the string firmly and tugged, tightly.
Another scream and it only made him harder and he continued to thrust. The boy’s erection throbbed in need, swollen from the string and ached as did the rest of his body that had been abused for the third time this morning. Forced to moan and beg for release or free of the pain from his Master’s toys and weapons to keep him stimulated.
“No! It hurts!” Such a beautiful voice, he was wise to choose this one as his pet.
His puppet was beautiful in every way, held up by the chains wrapped around his neck, arms and right leg. The entire boy’s body was balanced only by his left foot which he had to keep on his toes just to touch the floor. The boy’s legs spread out, unable to close and helpless as the master fondled him for his own amusement.
The Master soon grew bored and sped up his pace, moving faster deeper. The change of pace was too much, old wounds opened and the boy screamed in both pleasure and pain as blood spilt from his entrance, but overcome by the amount of pleasure as his master hit his sweet spot, forcing him to thrust back in rhythm. The blood helped in lubricating the passage and the master thrust faster and faster and the boy panted in need like the bitch he had been trained to become.
“Master, please, please, just end it.” He boy chocked helplessly as his own erection continued to throb, too painfully to let him even remotely enjoy this violation by the hands of the madman that held him captive.
All too soon, something changed in the master’s eyes. He reached his limit and deposited his seed within the bleeding passage, burning the child’s inside, hurting more than he had already been forced to endure.
The madman seemed to stop in time, before he removed himself from his captive and took many silent steps into the darkness, not even bothering to mock his whore, torment him more with his words. He just faded back into the darkness
“You’ve kept me entertained long enough. There’ no point in continuing you, this is your limit.” The master sighed disappointingly.
“W-what do you mea-“
The quick movement of the metal, the silent slicing of flesh against sharp steel. He never saw the knife coming.
“You’re boring me.”
Another scream, he chokes on his own blood, hanging from his chains in panic as the thick, bitter liquid splurges from his pale lips, oh how he envied those lips. He couldn’t help himself, he leaned over and embraced his toy, brushing their lips together, nothing more, just tasting, feeling the texture, missed his toy’s own flavour of enzymes, as well as grit and sand. And a taste of something else, bitter in taste, no, more like salty. Oh yes, it was the taste of his own essence, when he forced his play thing to pleasure him not long ago. It still lingered, dry stains smeared his pale skin. Why were they so white, so much paler then himself. They weren’t this pathetic when they first arrived, they used to be pink, burnt from his countries hot some, their tan arms and shoulders, but still pale, peach in places. Now the only colour left belong to his damaged clothes, ripped in so many places beyond repair. They all had such colourful bodies at first, but now the white had faded into grey, the red, yellows, greens, now brown and even duller grey from the blood, sand, grit and semen. All the colours died, as if they were representing their captive’s wills to live. Yes things had indeed become too dull, even for him.
“Pity, you had so much promise. I had younger ones, even females that lasted longer then you. I have no use for weak minds. There’s no fun in this game anymore.” He sighed at the thought of how many more he would have to go through until he found the perfect toy. Maybe it was a hopeless cause. Oh well, life was a journey after all and even if failure was the final outcome, there was no point in final destination rob him of his fun along the journey to his ultimate prize.
“Sweet dreams.” He chuckled, stealing more last, blood dripped kiss before spitting out the cold texture and turned his back on another defect.
The room stank with the stench of death, sex and so much blood, new and old, wet and dry, it was a required taste but he relished in its scent none the less. This room was one of his favourites, lit by only four torches n each corner of the room, a table he had modified to secure his captives victims captive as he “examined them”. Oh, what wonderful insides humans had. So much more beautiful and spectacular than that of the snakes and scorpions he collected over the years. True, those noble creatures were gifted with their poisonous fangs, pincers and stingers. Such wonderful attachments, while he was forced to work with soft human hands. But that was Ok; as long as he used them correctly, they could be more deadly than the most powerful of predators. It was truly awe-inspiring to see what human hands could create, the amount of torture they could inflict. After all the room had been filled with many tools of his own design, knives, whips, leather off the skin of animals, rope, and so much more that he would not dare ruin the surprise for his next toy. Oh yes, it was getting way too easy, his next victim deserved much more originality and he was prepared to give it.
The madman left the room and the dead body behind to clean up later. First he had the rest to deal with, the rejects, and the ones that had outlived their usefulness. After all, the master was hungry and it had become increasingly difficult to find food in these hot summer days, it was a good thing meat always managed to find a way to deliver itself to him, and so willingly.
He walked past the holding chamber where he normally stored his captives, but only one was left in the small chamber. There were originally three; two boys, brothers and the older brother’s girlfriend. The one left in here was the girl, not chained to the wall as she originally had been. In fact, he had left the door open for the past few days. She was not to his taste, dressed in her white tank top, cargo shorts and sandals. Her hair was held back in a ponytail, he had long since forgotten her hair colour, much like his deceased toy. Was the boy a blonde? No, it must have been the girl. It didn’t matter now, not that it mattered to begin with.
She used to be so beautiful.
The poor dear was most helpful in tormenting the older brother; he started by cutting off her fingers. It was small things each day. That’s how it began, a few digits each day. Depending on his mood he would take a few fingers and thumbs, slowly working his way up her arms. Once all the fingers came off, he hacked off her hands all together, leaving only her wrists. He would later soon hack at them too, up to her wilder and finally working his way up to her petite shoulder blades. Eventually he came to a standstill and could not proceed any further, unless he the thought of chopping her head off was enough to take over. But no, instead he used the same method to take away pieces of her legs. Like before, he started from the bottom; snipping off the toes, hacking at her ankles, up to her knees, and then finally along her highs until she was nothing but a stump. Unable to move on her arm, unable to defend herself or turn away as she was forced to watch her captor torment her friends each day after.
He was surprised she never once died from shock, but that was more fun for him. The boy was pale and devastated by what he did to his love and it gave him great satisfaction, so much so he couldn’t help but take the younger brother right then and there, forcing both to watch helplessly as their youngest was taken. The master left the oldest untouched for a reason of course. He was the strongest and could take any damage the master threw at him, but emotionally the brother was weak. He broke instantly as he was forced to watch the rape of his brother and the dismemberment of his love day and after day.
The female was still there to this day, lifelessly laying there in the middle of the room. No appendages to drag herself away, to curl up and cry in the corner. No, the girl was close to death’s door and the master could be generous enough to help her on the final step to reaching Anubis, Lord of the dead. The thought alone made him chuckle uncontrollable and the girl heard his sickening laughs and panicked. She had long since lost her voice, so her body shook, desperately trying to wiggle away but all she could do was cry silently as he stalked towards her, arm lifted high with his dagger pointing towards her heart.

Far away down the labyrinth corridors and flickering flames held by the torches, a lone man lied face down on a stone tablet, his body spread eagled as his wrist and ankles were held firmly by rope. His mouth was gagged and he continued to scream. He heard so much, so much suffering that his heart couldn’t take it. It was a good thing he was restrained otherwise he wouldn’t have hesitated in taking his own life and those of his brother and girlfriend’s, if only to spare them one more day of torture.
He had been taken away this morning to endure another session, he had never been in this room before, no one had ever been brought to this room before and the man could only prey and hope that this was the day they had all been waiting for. He was in the perfect room, far away from the others but still able to hear their screams as they bounced off the corridors. He had heard the cries of his brother for the last hour and now how they suddenly came to a stop. As much as he hated himself for thinking it; he hoped his brother was dead.
He then heard the footsteps, the ever growing closer steps of the devil that would not let them go. They stopped halfway down the hall and he didn’t need to guess where they stopped at. It was her, always her he tortured with that knife. That was how it was, he tortured his baby brother mentally, his love physically and as for himself? It was the emotional pain he endured and how he wished to trade places with any of them that broke him.
His fatigued mind went to the worst case scenario and cried silently, his faith in god all but gone after meeting the devil face to face. No god could let something so evil walk the earth and stand while good people were tortured days, weeks, months…why couldn’t he remember how long it had been. It seemed like a life time and it might as well have been. Why couldn’t’ it just end?
The footsteps continued again and this time they were accompanied by something slick, but sticky, liquid but thick in texture. He already knew what it was and impatiently waited for his turn.
A wet hand slid along the smoothness of the wooden door and pushed it open without effort. On the other side, the devil himself, leaned against the frame, drench in blood, smiling wickedly as he sauntered into the room, almost drunk in his motioned. That smile had long since burn into the back of his skull. Even in sleep he still saw that same smile mocking him, as well as the laughter, a hideous cackle of delight and madness. Most of all, as worse as they all were, they were nothing compared to the madman’s eyes. He had never seen eyes without pupils, but always on edge, always filled with orgasmic pleasure, the pupils were forever dilated. If the devil walked in human form, he would have used those exact eyes without having to think about it.
The madman danced into the room, letting the remains of the blood dance off his cloak, hair and gold armbands. He took his time circling his final victim, wanting his last companion to hang on as long as possible before he was forced to endure many more nights of loneliness and boredom.
He circled the foreigner many times, each time exmaning one of the four torches standing tall beside the tablet. Finally, on the fourth cycle he stopped and lifting his blood stained hands, he removed the gag and petted his remaining friend lovingly.
“Please…” The pet coughed in his native tongue.
The boy’s word were incomprehensible by this point, but that made little difference to the master, he knew very well what he was saying. He had seen that look in his toy’s eyes time and time again, and just like the other this one had reached its limit. They all had reached their limit and as much as he loved extending their game as long as possible past the breaking point, there was no thrill in it anymore. Old toys had to be thrown away to replace the new ones.
“Please, please let me die.” He cried. There were no tears left to shed, but they were there in his screams. “PLEASE!!!I don’t want to live! Brother! Where’s my brother! Please let him go! Or just tell me he’s dead, don’t put him through anymore!!! I’ll take both their places, just put both out of their miseries”
The captor had yet to say anything, he didn’t understand what this snivelling child was trying to tell him, but he recognised the words, similar words that others before him had screamed before. Just pointless words, nothing more, nothing less. He knew how this would end, so there was no point in dragging it out.
“You can understand me.” He interrupted the boy’s rant, tugging the boy’s head back by his hair to get the point across.
“You’re the only one that ever talks to me, so please don’t lose your mind just yet. I want you to understand me if this is our final conversation together.” He smiled sincerely, as if he were saying good bye to a close friend that was moving away.
For several agonising seconds, the boy quivered under the painful hold the master held over him. His hair was close to ripping from his very scalp but he ignored it. Taking slow, deep breathes, he regained his mental thought. Slowed down his thinking, so he could understand what the madman was trying to tell him. Maybe if he did what he was told, he’d kill him.
“Good boy.” He chirped happily, releasing his death grip on the foreigner.
“Have you noticed something off putting about this room?” He asked casually, going back to circling, this time counter clockwise.
The victim didn’t notice anything out of place, other than it felt equally as dead as the demon that held him against his will. Yes, the room matched the maniac perfectly, dark, cold, eerie. There were not enough words to describe how perfect they were for one another.
“I don’t like this room.” The master mumbled, almost timid like as he faltered in step.
“I don’t’ like this room at all.” He growled in an animal like manner, as if he were being cornered, forced into a cage by a pack of hunters.
“In all the years I lived here I never once took another step back into this room, the room I was born in. The room he died in!”
The captive raised his head at the sentence. The way it was said didn’t sound natural, almost like someone dying held a special meaning only understood to his twisted psyche. The room held a special meaning for this madman, but he would never live long enough to know why, not that he had the desire to find out anyway.
“Hmm, yes someone died in this room. Well, another died as well, but I don’t even remember the face anymore. Maybe it was my father? No, not Father, not my father, but someone’s.”
“Shut the fuck up!” The brother screamed in agony as he struggled against his bonds.
“I don’t care about any of this. I know you’re gonna kill, I know you killed all of them. Just stop fucking with me and end it. I don’t care for your games and I don’t care for this fucked up excuse of understanding or forgiveness!”
He was silenced by a quick elbow to the back.
“Forgiveness? Oh no, you miss understand me my friend. I have never once felt sorry and the amount of months we’ve spent together. Why would I apologize for the amount of joy and pleasure you’ve brought me these past few months? I’ll never forget our time together. I just felt like we were reaching the finale too quickly. No, I wanted to build this up, to honour our time together. But I see how it is and I honour your wishes.”
He slammed the child’s face into the stone slate
“But I won’t tolerate bad language under my roof.” He cackled hysterically as he got up.
Blood spilled from the mouth of the foreigner, dripping onto the cold rock bed before him.
“What I meant for you to figure out before was that I seem to be missing my knife the moment I entered.” The madman chirped as he pretended to search his person for the missing item, before his smile pulled back into a hideous smirk.
“Oh, I remember.” He giggled, walking over to one of the four torches.
The boy’s eyes dilated with fear, as the man reached into the torched, grabbing the handle and pulling out a glowing, red hot steel knife. He turned back to his final toy and lost himself into a fit of laughter as he slowly made his way over to the boy.
He could feel the blade already on his back; he could even see the steam radiating from the madman’s hand as he sluggishly made his way closer. Unable to hold back a scream, he lost his Egyptian tongue and screamed for help in his own language. No matter how much one wished for death, even they will cling onto life when faced with unbearable pain.
“Let’s play a game. How many stabs does it take until someone finally dies? I only ever needed one stab to kill daddy, but now I want to see if I can set a record. Thank you for helping my dear old friend!” He raised the knife and the first stroke went into the side, avoiding any organs.
He relished in the sight of the victim screaming, cursing, and wriggling in pure agony as he tried to escape the heat of the metal that burnt his insides. Finally, he pulled the blade out, but he didn’t give his captive enough time to adjust or regain his breath, bringing the knife back down and into his opposite side.
The cycle continued a random body part each time, blood split, body parts burnt and cooked from the inside out. The madman didn’t seem to stop in his motions, circling his victim slowly and moving gracefully as if this were his final performance on the stage, dancing elegantly before a grand audience.
Time passed to slowly for the victim, screaming for his life as smoke rose from his back, somehow alive despite the pain. For the Master however, their game was going too fast for his enjoyment, but would not dare stop his rhythm, not risking ruining the performance of his life. The dance continued until the victim finally collapsed and laid motionlessly in a pool of his own blood, still conscious but revealing in the sweet release that he was too numbed form bloodlust to feel the pain, too far gone to still be aware of living things like pain and emotion. It was the final stab that released him of his flesh prison and granted him freedom in the arms of the deceased brother.
As if feeling the final stab hitting his own heart, the madman stopped and let go of the knife, choosing to keep it embedded in the shredded, bloody remains. He stumbled back, his eyes wide with realisation.
“Huh, I was too engrossed, I actually lost count. I almost feel cheated.” He smiled in pure insanity, tilting his head in the direction of an untouched bowl of water that just seemed to materialised in the room.
The water was still and clear, but his face almost seemed distorted in its reflection.
“But there’s no time to feel sorry, after all he have so much work to be done. We’ve been too easy of them; it’s time to start work on a new project, new toys, new ways of playing.” He gazed firmly down at the bowl of water and lifted his finger and ran it lovingly down the cheek of his reflection.
“Don’t you agree?” The water settled but the reflection had changed once more. It was not the eyes of a killer, a psychotic maniac, but that of a scared child, a pale faced boy who shook as the blood began to mix with that of his image.
He screamed and tumbled back, the blood coated his hands, gathered underneath his fingernails. The sweat was a constant reminder of what he did to that boy, as was the semen on his clothes as hard evidence to what he did. Blood smeared his face, his hair, and his clothes. Why wouldn’t it come off? Why won’t it come off?!
“I’m sorry…” He quivered, the last months image raced through his head and he cried for each one; being forced to see each one, take part in each slaughter and the knowledge that the blame that each action was no one else’s. The act was down with him, his own two hands were to blame. The blame was always his, the three innocent today, the others before them and the ones yet to come.
“I’M SORRY!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Um…wow…dark….o_O
And I wasn’t joking when Marik said he was just getting started. If this made you feel uncomfortable and scarred you for life (like me) then I really don’t think you wanna keep readying, it’s only gonna get darker from here!
Sorry for those who were expecting a chapter 2, I just throught that this story deserved a better opening that best set the mood for what we were expecting to see in later chapters. So if this is too much, then you really don't want to continue!
Don't blame me for wanring you
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