rareslash | (no subject)

title: Staja 84F
author: Faith

faithennui
fandom: A Clockwork Orange
pairing: Alexander DeLarge/OMC
rating: NC-17

Now I, your humble narrator, never anticipated being much on the receiving end of ultraviolence. After all, I was always the unquestioned leader of my droogs. But, if we’re going to be totally honest, well, when I’m apart from my droogs and apart from the safety of darkness, under the bright institutional lighting of a prison, I’m, well, quite small. Quite small indeed.
I was in the cafeteria just minding my own self, when two much larger men approached me.
I looked up at them. “Can I help you?” I asked.
They found this quite funny and started guffing. “No, no, we’re not needing any help,” one of them- the red-haired one- said.
“Right then. Well, I’ll just get back to my eggiweggs,” I said. I looked down at my plate, but immediately felt a rooker gripping my chin from the bottom.
“I don’t like it when new lewdies come in here without checking in with me,” Red told me.
Un-sodding-believable. “Well, it’s not like I decided to break in here just for fun because it suited me. They just sort of threw me in without really asking what I thought of the whole messel.”
Now, in my humble opinion, this is a pretty dobby argument as to why I didn’t feel the need to announce my arrival to this man.
“Come back to my cell with me,” Red said. I was about to say ‘Thanks, but no thanks’ when his droog sobirat me, which is where the smallness I discussed earlier comes into play.
And so I was carried just like that into this man’s cell. His droog immediately started pulling off my platties and that’s when I knew for sure what was going to sloochat to me. I suppose the Chaplain might’ve suggested that this would be a dobby raz for me to realize how much my own ultraviolence has hurt lewdies, to empathize and to repent. But, if we’re going to be totally honest, I was no more analytical about the whole business on the one end than the other. I suppose what I’m skazating is that in-out is in-out whether or not you’re in or out. But, on the whole, I’d still prefer to be on the one side of things if at all possible.
But back to the story, after his droog had removed my platties, he pinned me to the ground. I thought this was altogether unnecessary since Red could’ve overpowered me on his own. Honestly, where’s the sportsmanship?
Red slid big, callused rookers over my plot, making extra certain to grab my bum violently. He slapped it a few times and left a few red handprints, I’d wager.
“You’re mine now,” he said. I was just about to correct him and explain that I’m mine own and nothing he could do to my humble self could make any difference at all, but I was cut off when I felt his dick plunging into me.
It hurt unbearably. I platched with pain and razrez and was immediately slapped and told to shut up. I guess his droog wanted to make sodding sure I’d shut up, because he covered my rot with his own. I’ve had some bad lubbilubs before, but I must say this was by far the worst. He was a disgusting, grazzy veck, as though just being a veck weren’t bad enough. Besides, his nastier counterpart was still at it, thrusting into my bum, and I suspect it’d be hard to enjoy even the best lubbiub of my jeezny under the circumstances.
After a dobby long while, I felt Red release into me and felt the sickness that went along with that. He slapped my bum once again as he pulled out.
I lay still on the floor, breathing deeply. I couldn’t think of much except how much pain I was in. Then, it finally occurred to me to start thinking of the prospect of repeating the experience every day for a good part of my jeezny.
If pressed, I’d have to say that I feel I’ve paid for my crimes. But what do I know of retribution, really?