The Devil\'s Last Name

Chapter 3

Written by: Fox

Notes:

This is the longest chapter of the story so far.

Tons of Hisoka torture. This is one of the chapters where the summary codes kick in. All hard codes are in use this chapter.

If you can’t stand the idea of Hisoka’s father doing things to him shota and post shota age, or are in denial about Muraki raping Hisoka, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.

~*~

“Damn you Kazutaka.” Tsuzuki murmured angrily as he counted the doorways on his left side.

He had stumbled about in the dark anteroom for almost three minutes when he found the heavy front door and had opened it, letting the minimal daylight from outside filter in. He had glanced around the room, slightly relieved to find that there was no blood on the floor but immediately feeling cold when he saw the flashlight and note left right where Muraki had punched him in the gut.

The note had been simple.

If you want the utsukushi no bouya back, you’ll play my game. The room on your left in the main hall. Number seven.

Tsuzuki stopped outside a dank, dark room and slowly stepped inside, shining the light on the wall next to the door. He flipped on the light switch he saw there and immediately the door shut behind him as the lights flickered to life above his head. He dropped the flashlight which clunked to the wooden floor before rolling away from the now frantic man and jiggled the door handle roughly. He yanked on it with all his strength in hopes of budging it, but found it wouldn’t open. He slammed his fist against the door and stepped back.

He focused himself and began to make the seal for Suzaku. Just as he was about to summon the powerful shikigami there was a voice overhead.

“Now now Tsuzuki-san, that’s not playing my game. If you do that then I will kill the boy before the game can even start.” Muraki’s voice said as it filtered into the room.

Tsuzuki blinked as he looked around the room, noting that there were four large flat screen televisions mounted on the four walls. In the middle of the room was a large, black, metal chair. He looked up and saw speakers mounted on the ceiling.

“So how do I play your game? Huh? I want Hisoka back now you bastard!” Tsuzuki yelled in his angry panic at the intercom.

“Temper temper. You keep calling me that and it’ll just take longer to get him back.”

Tsuzuki grit his teeth and glared at the elaborate sound system. “Fine.”

“Good boy. Now go over to the chair.”

Tsuzuki paced over to the chair and looked down at it in fear and worry. He saw a remote nestled in the middle of the seat, and a joystick on one of the arms. He turned back to the speakers.

“Now what?” he demanded.

“Pick up the remote and turn on the television Tsuzuki.” Even though he couldn’t see the scientist, Tsuzuki could hear the amusement in his voice.

Tsuzuki took a deep breath, braced himself, and did as he was told. He pushed the power button on the remote and nearly jumped when all four televisions buzzed to life, showing four different angles of Hisoka whom was now dressed in a woman’s kimono. Tsuzuki’s eyes went wide and he ran to the tv that showed Hisoka’s face, tears running down the boy’s pale cheeks.

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET HISOKA GO!” Tsuzuki roared angrily, slamming his fist on the wall next to the tv.

“What did we say about calling me names hm? For that, I think Hisoka-chan needs to be punished.”

Tsuzuki watched in horror as Hisoka suddenly closed his eyes and cried out in pain. He turned to the other televisions to see what was hurting Hisoka so much only to find the camera that showed from Hisoka’s bound feet up his body helpful. He bit his lip and felt tears slide down his own cheeks as an obscenely large dildo was forced by someone’s hand into Hisoka’s exposed bottom.

“T-TSUZUKI!” Hisoka screamed in sheer pain and terror as the dildo was pushed hard into him, his body slowly accommodating the oversized intruder. A small trickle of blood seeped from the stretched entrance down to the bed as an unfamiliar voice mumbled something.

“N-no. I.. Please I...” Hisoka was pleading with whoever else was there. Tsuzuki turned to see Hisoka’s red face, his eyes open wide in fear as he panted and pleaded.

“Hisoka...” he murmured sadly.

“Tsuzuki.. Please... Please don’t watch me. Don’t watch me like this.” Hisoka panted out, his eyes closing as he tried not to show his discomfort and pain at what was happening, as well as being reduced to saying these words. Whatever they had threatened him with was enough to make him feel an extraordinary amount of pain and shame at the possibility of Tsuzuki seeing it happen to him.

“Isn’t Hisoka-chan beautiful when he pleads Tsuzuki?” Muraki’s voice spoke smoothly. “I can’t wait for you to see how he was that night.”

“What do you mean?” Tsuzuki growled up at the speakers. His fists were clenched in anger.

“It’s easier to show to you than to explain. So just sit in that beautiful chair that I had designed just for you and watch.”

Tsuzuki slowly walked back over to the chair and sat in it quietly. As soon as he had completely rested his weight in it metal restraints whirred out of the arms to hold his hands down, followed by one more metal strap whirring out of the post to hold his legs still.

He blinked and immediately began to fight the restraints. “What the hell is this Muraki?!”

“Just a precaution. I’m sure you’ll be alright. Your left hand should be able to manipulate the joystick just enough to move your chair so that you can watch any tv you like. Now just watch.” Muraki replied amicably.

Tsuzuki blinked as he watched the tv showing Hisoka’s face. A long thin strip of cloth was placed over Hisoka’s eyes. Hisoka blinked under the veil like material as an odd contraption was placed over the top of his head. It looked almost like half a helmet, but the face part was missing.

“This little machine was designed by a coworker of mine whom deals with empathic and telepathic people. He found that this little creation magnified what the person was feeling or remembering, and projected it so that it looks as if whatever the telepath is remembering or feeling is actually happening to them. Do you want to know what the best part of this is Tsuzuki?”

Tsuzuki cringed and nearly sobbed as it dawned on him what Muraki was going to do.

“The best part is that the telepath doesn’t know the difference between the virtual reality that they are creating and reality. For them, reliving is literal. And what’s more, we can see exactly what it is they are reliving.”

“No... Oh god no.. Hisoka! Don’t do this to him!” Tsuzuki pulled on the restraints, trying to pull free, but the metal didn’t give. “How could you! Monster! Pervert!”

“Let’s start with his earliest memory shall we?” Muraki asked, obviously ignoring Tsuzuki’s words.

The other that was with Hisoka pushed a button on the side of the machine on Hisoka’s head and leaned down, brushing his lips over Hisoka’s. Now that Tsuzuki could see the face of the tormentor he nearly swallowed his tongue. The beauty of the man was an obvious mirror of the boy’s, and he immediately realized whom this person was. This was Nagare, Hisoka’s father, and he was helping in the virtual and literal rape of his own son!

Nagare moved away and to one of the bare walls in the background, sliding his hand into his kimono, obviously starting to rub himself as Hisoka arched, his memories a whir of colorful images over his body.

Tsuzuki clutched the arms of the chair, his knuckles going white as he waited in fear and disgust for the first horrible scene to begin.

Unfortunately, Hisoka would go back to when he was only six or seven. He was laying in bed watching the rain slide down the only window in his room to the outside. He was restless but knew better than to attempt to sneak outside in the rain.

Suddenly he looked to the door as it slid open and was surprised to see his father standing in the doorway. He sat up and watched his father as Nagare walked over to his bed and sat on the edge.

Nagare gently lifted Hisoka’s chin and leaned down, kissing his son deeply on the lips while gazing into the beautiful green eyes with his own snake eyes.

Hisoka was squirming on the bed as he remembered his younger self doing the same, trying to get away to ask his father what he was doing. Tsuzuki flinched as the image of Nagare forcing his tongue into his young son’s mouth was displayed, Hisoka’s eyes wide as he gasped.

Soon Nagare had Hisoka pinned down on the bed, his hands roaming over his young son’s body to free him of the light yukata Hisoka always wore. He continued to hold him down with one arm as he slid open his own kimono, showing his nearly purple headed cock to his child. He grabbed a yelping Hisoka by the hair and then forced him down to his lap to make Hisoka suck on him.

Young Hisoka was groaning as his mouth was filled with his father’s cock, his tongue naturally moving to peek out past his lips as he tried to push away. Tears were streaming down the present and past Hisoka’s cheeks, muffled noises from both filling Tsuzuki’s ears and nearly driving him mad with grief.

Present Nagare just stood in the background, his green eyes full of lust as he watched the first rape of his son.

Soon past Nagare pulled his son’s head back and came, his seed spraying his son’s face, some making a small string from the tip of his slowly shrinking cock to Hisoka’s lips. He pulled away and patted Hisoka’s head, then retied his kimono and left the boy to be cleaned up by a servant alone.

Tsuzuki shook his head and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “How could you... How dare you treat your son that way!”

“That’s not all he did Tsuzuki-san.” Muraki said. “Watch.”

Hisoka was writhing in pain on the bed as a new memory appeared. He looked about ten now and was holding his father’s hand as they walked toward a smaller version of the ancestral home. Hisoka was looking confused as a man that looked nothing like his father approached and called Nagare brother. Nagare bowed to his older brother, then pushed Hisoka forward.

The other man smiled and called himself Hisoka’s uncle, then slowly undid Hisoka’s yukata.

Hisoka seemed sluggish, and at times the memory seemed fuzzy.

“Oh my, I guess that the drug that Nagare-san gave him was strong enough to blur out some of what happened.” Muraki mused. Tsuzuki grit his teeth in anger, nearly growling.

Soon enough though the image was clear and both past and present Hisoka were screaming as Hisoka’s uncle had put him on his hands and knees in the grass on the side of the road. Nagare then kneeled in front of Hisoka and slid his cock into his son’s mouth to quiet him.

The two men would do this over and over, switching places until the sun set and Nagare deemed it was time to go home.

Hisoka groaned as he was taken home, carried by a villager whom had stood by watching.

Present Hisoka was panting and groaning in pain, his eyes closed. He looked so terrified and so betrayed laying there. Tsuzuki dug his nails into the chair.

“Let him be now Muraki... he’s hurt. Please let him go.” he snarled quietly.

“Not yet Tsuzuki-san. Almost, but not yet.”

Tsuzuki nearly screamed in agony as he pulled hard on his restraints, the metal biting into his wrists hard. He moaned pitifully as the blood ran over his forearm and onto the arm of the chair before healing, then ripped open again. He would repeat his actions desperately, the buttons on his cuff snapping off and dropping to the floor as the white dress shirt he wore under his black jacket slowly became crimson around his wrists.

“Tsuzuki...Tsuzuki... Save me. I... I want you to save me.” Hisoka mumbled. His eyes were open as he seemed to look around him, sakura petals falling softly. Hisoka knew this scene, and Tsuzuki could just guess what was going to happen next.

On the hill above where young past Hisoka stood was a blood soaked man in white, a young woman’s body laying limply at his feet, and a blood coated knife in his hand. The man’s back was to him and as he turned his head to look over his shoulder toward the young intruder, Hisoka’s eyes widened in fear.

The figure turned to fully face him, blood dripping from the tip of the knife as the man took his first step forward.

Hisoka turned away and tried to flee, but his knees gave out under him and he fell to them hard. He scrambled forward, only glancing back quickly over his shoulder toward the demon on the hill when he heard a high laugh. His hands clawed at the dirt as he tried to crawl forward, only to slip on the dew coated grass beneath him and fall.

Tsuzuki sucked in his breath and couldn’t stop himself from screaming as he yanked at his restraints, his ankles and wrists rubbed raw and bleeding. One hand became slicked up enough by his own blood that it suddenly slid free, the joint of his thumb having popped out if it’s socket from all the tugging to allow it to just barely squeeze through the tight loop. Immediately he purposely popped the joint of his other thumb out and slid his other hand free, groaning in pain as he did so.

He glanced up to see Hisoka out of his mind with fright, Muraki having grabbed the back of his yukata and pulled it down and free from the boy. Hisoka was scrambling, dirt and grass under his nails as he clawed to get away from Muraki’s hands.

Suddenly the boy found himself facing the ugly blood moon, his once frozen voice now loud and piercing as Muraki finished removing the last of his clothes successfully. The older man ran his hands over Hisoka’s body appreciatively as he murmured the words that would haunt Hisoka forever.

“Such pale skin with eyes like gems... Utsukushi no Bouya... too elegant for a simple and plain death like that woman back there... I wish to watch you draw your last painful breath after I have made you my most beautiful and precious doll....” he mumbled before Muraki’s mouth descended on one tiny pink nipple as one hand held both of Hisoka’s weak and struggling arms over his head, the other hand preoccupied with undoing his own clothes and pushing them off.

Skin as pale and perfect as Hisoka’s was revealed slowly and Tsuzuki’s eyes widened as he began to struggle more. He reached down to his ankles and grabbed at the restraint, trying to find any room to move his feet about, only to find that with both ankles secured together, there wasn’t nearly enough.

Tsuzuki glanced about the room frantically, hoping to see anything that may give him an advantage. The only thing aside from the chair and tv’s was a mirror on the far wall next to the view from the left of Hisoka’s arching body.

Tsuzuki growled in frustration and turned back to the tv to try to gauge how much time he had before Muraki’s rape actually began, only to see an image of the now naked mad scientist holding Hisoka’s wrists over his belly to allow himself some room to go down on the boy.

Tsuzuki grit his teeth in anger at the mistreatment of his partner. The boy’s eyes were filled with tears as he cried out how dirty and wrong Muraki was by doing this, how he hated the man and everything he represented, only to be cut off by his own treacherous body. He cried in pain and confusion as he felt his still small cock harden in Muraki’s mouth, the latter’s tongue massaging the erection into fullness.

Once hard, Muraki released the tiny cock and began to lick at the still hairless balls, his tongue starting at the bottom and washing up to the base of Hisoka’s cock before sliding left, then right, then back down. He would then gently slip his mouth over the tiny sac and suck gently.

This hadn’t been anything like Tsuzuki had imagined. When Tsuzuki had thought of rape, he had merely thought that Hisoka had been ripped and shredded into, Muraki merciless in his endeavor to harm the young boy for his pleasure. Instead, Muraki had started out acting almost like a lover to Hisoka.

This thought was furthered when he saw Muraki press Hisoka’s legs open wide and press his nose and (presumably) his mouth down to lap at Hisoka’s tiny entrance. He moved the chair about to see for sure, and found himself becoming hard against his will at the sight of Muraki’s tongue circling the tight ring of muscle before pressing into Hisoka’s body. This maneuver would be repeated a few times before a struggling Hisoka would gasp, then cry out as he came, his still boyishly watery seed spraying his young belly.

Muraki would move up once Hisoka came and lap away at the boy’s belly. Tsuzuki swivelled his chair around to the top view again and watched every drop disappear from the shivering boy’s belly almost jealously.

Over the intercom would come a raspy, almost victorious laugh. “So you like what you see?”

Tsuzuki turned slightly red in shame and shook his head. “No! I hate it!”

“Then why are you so hard Tsuzuki-san? And you’ve watched everything that’s happened with the most jealous, wanton look I have ever seen.”

Tsuzuki grit his teeth. “I can’t control my body’s reaction, but there is no way I would ever want to harm Hisoka like that!”

He glared around the room, trying to see how it was Muraki could see him, not understanding the almost god-like approach Muraki was taking. His eyes then rested on the mirror, the only thing that seemed out of place.

As he faced the tv to try to figure out how to reach the mirror, he saw Muraki reach for the knife beside his clothes in the grass beside them, and Tsuzuki knew all the gentleness was completely gone from now on. He watched the knife just prick Hisoka’s skin at first, barely cutting him as the lines were first visualized and traced from memory onto the boy’s skin. Then they became wider and much deeper.

“Tissue, bone, muscle... every part of that boy remembers everything I did to him. I didn’t just curse him that night Tsuzuki, I created my masterpiece within him. He is my perfect doll, made to be whatever I choose for him to be, even if what I choose for him is to be broken.” Muraki voice said breathlessly over the intercom. Apparently Muraki was enjoying the show so much that he was stroking himself from where he was.

Tsuzuki felt bile rise in his throat at the thought as he looked down at the chair. His eyes rested on the joystick that controlled the chair’s movement and grabbed it with both hands, hauling up on it with all his might.

Luckily the piece was mostly plastic and wire, and gave with a few forceful tugs, leaving a stump where the metal bar had connected to the apparatus. He pushed the stump with his thumb until he faced the mirror, aimed and threw it with all his might.

The mirror seemed to shiver before the glass splintered, then shattered outward. As the joystick thumped heavily onto the ground glass tinkled around it, hitting the ground in small slivers and revealing that behind it had been another pane of glass, and behind that mounted into the dark hollow of the wall was a camera.

“Now now Tsuzuki, that wasn’t very nice.”

Hisoka’s screams reached a crescendo and as Tsuzuki looked back at the screen in horror, he found that Hisoka was not only being raped in his memory by Muraki, but that the dildo had been removed and replaced by Muraki’s own cock.

Muraki reenacted saying the words and licking away Hisoka’s blood as the curse flared a bright red across the boy’s body. He ran his hands over the slim hips and pale skin as if he remembered every inch of Hisoka’s abused body. Soon enough Hisoka was forced to cum again, his body arching with every frantic scream of fright, pain and pleasure. Muraki groaned and climaxed as well, sluggishly moving off of Hisoka.

Nagare moved forward as if to take Hisoka next, but suddenly Muraki punched him in the stomach. Nagare looked winded and shocked, then coughed up blood before closing his eyes and falling to the ground. Muraki grinned into the camera and held up a poison needle, and Tsuzuki’s last restraint came undone.

“You can have him back now Tsuzuki, but I’d be careful of the memory I didn’t show you if I were you.” He said as he took the machine off of Hisoka’s head, bringing him back from his memories.

Hisoka lay panting and screaming as Tsuzuki rushed for the door, yanking it open and running through the hall. He stopped and looked around, frantic to get to Hisoka. He closed his eyes as he heard Hisoka’s scream, not from the tv, but elsewhere, and followed the sound.

As soon as he entered Hisoka’s room he was at the boy’s side, grabbing the set of keys that had been left and undoing all of Hisoka’s restraints. Once Hisoka was free Tsuzuki reached for the boy but instead found Hisoka rolling off the side of the bed away from him, looking animalistic and angry.

“Hisoka, it’s ok. It’s Tsuzuki, I won’t hurt you.” Tsuzuki tried, his voice quiet and soothing to the disoriented youth.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Hisoka screeched back.

Tsuzuki’s eyes widened in shock at the language that Hisoka had used, and tried again. “Hisoka, it’s the baka you work with. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re hard.” Hisoka’s tone was like a knife. “You betrayed me. How many times did you cum watching that?”

Tsuzuki stepped back, ashamed and fearful. Hisoka wasn’t mad, he was more than sane. “I...”

“I don’t want to hear it!” And with that Hisoka ran for the door, trying to bypass Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki saw the slight chance and tackled him.

Hisoka screamed and a burst of energy exploded from his body, burning Tsuzuki. Despite the pain Tsuzuki refused to let go, his skin searing as Hisoka tried to free himself.

When Hisoka realized Tsuzuki wasn’t going to let go he controlled the energy and began to pound on him with his fists, trying to beat the older man away from himself. When that didn’t work, Hisoka broke down and merely sobbed in pain and fright.

“J-just do it quickly already Tsuzuki. I... I don’t want to feel anymore...” And with that his eyes became dull and tired, his breathing slow.

Tsuzuki looked at the boy with hurt in his eyes, his burnt skin flaking off slowly to reveal new healed skin. “I... Hisoka I don’t want that.”

“Whatever.” His tone was emotionless.

“Hisoka... I need to take you back to Meifu...” Tsuzuki said softly as he scooped the boy into his arms.

But the boy wouldn’t talk back to him, nor would the life return to his eyes.

~*~

To be continued.