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[CW] The Only Solution
Administrator

597 Posts
19 Threads
Registered: Jun 2019

#1


[Content warning: This thread will contain murder, power abuse, reference to prostitution, possible reference to child prostitution, and a lot of other cringe-moments]
 
Was that second drink really necessary? Maybe not. The third certainly wasn’t. But there was still time before his train left and a lot had just happened, and his anxiety about leaving was playing up. He needed some emotional fortification. Simon sat in the corner of the pub. His bag was on the bench beside him. After leaving home, he had gone to say goodbye to a few people and had then ended up here to wait until it was coming to four. Now at last, he could relax. He should focus on the fact that he was leaving this dump. That he would never be mistreated again. That he was going to make a wonderful new life for himself. Of all the opportunities and new experiences that awaited him in York. That he would spend more time with Zech. And they could build up a new life.
 
Well, and who should walk in right this during this reflection but Christopher Hurley?
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Ghost of Unfortunate Pasts

24 Posts
1 Thread

Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 22
Occupation: Sleazeball
Plotter: [Here]
Height: 5'11"
Registered: Jan 2020

#2
[CW: Dehumanization, racism, slavery, normalization of pedophilia, etc.]

There were a few boys like Simon, though Simon was certainly the oldest of them. They were easier on the eyes without all the masculine angles, the force of will, and the difficulty of properly breaking.

He was a dog man for a while, but he was beginning to flirt with the idea of breaking horses instead ... and Simon was his first stallion.

Occasionally he would find a boy - a boy who had not considered other boys in such a way, preferably - drowning his sorrows in the way of his filthy parents. Pliable. Reluctant, but just smart enough to give in for a shilling or two.

And he would own them, like his family owned the plantation slaves in South America. Not on paper - but in mind, in deed, in body. He would pick boys with no chance of escaping their fate.

His eyes hit the red hair first, and then widened in fury at the bag. He smoothed his suit out, strode over, and picked it up like he owned it.

With a sneer down at Simon, he opened it up and spilled the contents wordlessly on the floor. Where on earth did one of his little Whitby sluts think he was going!?
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Administrator

597 Posts
19 Threads
Registered: Jun 2019

#3
Simon had told himself that if he would encounter Mr. Hurley before leaving, he would stand up for himself. He would tell the talking boar that he could go fuck himself. That Simon wasn't his. That his life was his own now, and that Mr. Hurley would never see him again. Even in his mind, he had to tell Mr. Hurley that all the time, whenever he thought of him. Hurley hadn't just taken his body. He had taken his mind. But no more, Simon had told himself.

And yet, as he laid eyes on the man approaching, fear slipped back in. He stood up quickly. With dread, he realized that his bag lay beside him in full view, as evidence that he was leaving without permission. And indeed, Mr. Hurley looked at it with a look that made Simon shrink. His muscles tensed and his breathing became difficult as he watched Hurley open the bag and toss the contents on the floor.

"Stop it." Was all he managed to bring out.
Reply
Ghost of Unfortunate Pasts

24 Posts
1 Thread

Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 22
Occupation: Sleazeball
Plotter: [Here]
Height: 5'11"
Registered: Jan 2020

#4
Hurley let out an indignant, short laugh, though his gaze was broiling with rage.

"And who are you," he said, kicking aside fallen luggage and wiping a foot off on it, "to tell me what to do? Some sodomite sucking cock at the docks!"

As if he were removed from the equation - above it all. As if the ant unable to outrun the magnifying glass were more culpable than the very giant holding it.
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Administrator

597 Posts
19 Threads
Registered: Jun 2019

#5
Simon winced at the stinging words and turned red. He looked around, hoping that no one had heard it - and that no one was seeing what was going on, as if he should be ashamed of himself.

One of his shirts on the floor had a stain on it, where Mr. Hurley had wiped the dirt of the street off on it. He wanted to pick it up, but dared not stoop down with an angry Hurley so close.

"I'm not, anymore. I'm leavin' Whitby." He wanted to sound determined, but he couldn't help the light tremor in his voice.
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