Harry groggily awoke once more to a sharp bang on his head. He winced and blearily opened his eyes. ‘I have got to stop waking up like this’ he thought. Then the previous day came rushing back to him. His eyes snapped open and he at least remembered enough not to sit up right away. He stared at the ceiling lost in thought.
He was nauseated at the thought of what had transpired last time he had awoken. He felt disgusting and could still taste the rancid seed in his mouth. He wondered if they were going to make him do it again.
Where were they taking him? All he knew was that they said they were headed to France. Were they already in France? He chanced moving his head and tilted it to the side and looked around. His view was limited but he could tell he was in a different van. This one seemed even smaller and it had windows but they had been blacked out with paint. He chanced sitting up but he didn’t want to make too much noise, for fear that they would hear him in the back and stop again. Once he was sitting he slowly and noiselessly slid back against the wall. He looked to his left and shouted loudly in alarm.
There was a girl in the corner with her knees to her chest peering over them in fear. Harry had been surprised to see anyone in the van. He paused, frozen in fear, waiting for the van to stop. But all he heard was some muffled shouting and a fist banged on the wall separating the back of the van from the front. He assumed they were just yelling to shut up but they weren’t going to stop. He let out a sigh of relief.
He looked back over to the corner back at the girl who squeaked and hid her face in her knees again. He sighed and looked her over. She was in her pajamas as well, just a thin t-shirt and pants. Harry assumed she had suffered the same fate as he had, being torn from bed at night. He just pulled his knees up and began thinking of ways to escape.
Then it a thought occurred to him. He looked over at the door. Perhaps…he slowly shifted to his knees, glancing fearfully at the wall, hoping not to hear any banging, and slowly began making his way over to the door. He felt the eyes of the girl following his movements. He reached up towards the handle. It was so simple…He grabbed and turned. He felt it hit the lock. He sighed exasperatedly.
“It was worth a try” He murmured. He had hoped that the men were absentminded or perhaps thought he would be unconscious so it wouldn’t matter if the door was locked. He felt his hope slowly draining out of him but he refused to back down. He crept back to his corner. There was nothing he could do at this point, he would just have to try again when another opportunity presented it self.
He heard whispering from his left so he looked over to see the girl looking at him.
“Er…I’m sorry what did you say?” He asked. She repeated herself…in French. Harry sighed.
“Sorry, I don’t speak French” He said looking down at his knees, thinking the conversation over, with the language barrier. He was surprised when she spoke again.
“Where….where are they taking us?” she asked, looking unsure of her words. He overcame his shock at hearing her speak English and stumbled to answer her.
“Well, I don’t know…the only thing they said was they were taking me to France.”
“But….we are in France.” the girl said looking at him curiously. Harry’s eyes bugged out. What? How had they gotten him across the channel? Was he still even with the same men who had taken him before? His mind whirled with these thoughts. He had been out for quite a while then if they had managed to reach the border and they somehow managed to smuggle him onto a boat to get him across the channel and then into another van. He felt tears prick his eyes once more. He was only getting farther and farther away from home and any chance of getting out. The girl looked alarmed at Harry’s undoing and asked one more question. One Harry had asked himself a million times since being taken.
“What do they want with us?” she asked shakily. Harry looked up with her. He was starting to get an idea. He had heard about this when he would hide in the flower beds to listen to the news. Young girls stolen from their beds at night. Or girls who went on vacation and never came back.
Trafficking. It was a disgusting new trend. Lowly scum of men looking for young illegal bodies to lie with. He shuddered at the thought, hoping he was wrong. But his earlier encounter with his captors did not seem like very good foreshadowing of what was to come. He looked up at the girl once more to see her looking at him imploringly. His heart ached and he knew he couldn’t bring himself to scare the wits out of this girl. He could protect her, if only for a little while until he no longer could.
“I…I don’t know” he lied, looking away. She nodded and looked back down at her knees. Harry stole a glance back at her and saw her auburn hair falling, covering her face and her, Harry was sure, blue eyes. She looked to be about the same age as him, 14…maybe 13.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“Aimee.” she replied “et toi…and you?”
“I’m Harry.” He answered. “Do you have any idea where in France we are?”
She looked pensively at the floor of the van.
“They…took me from my home in Calais” she whispered slowly, thinking about how to say what she wanted in English. “It has been a few hours at least but I don’t know which direction they are headed. Probably Paris, and if that is true then we are very close.”
They both sat in silence, wondering if at any second the van would stop and they would be ripped from their little hovel. Aimee glanced up at Harry several times as if she were about to ask something but though better of it. Finally she got up the nerve to speak again.
“Where are you from?” She asked timidly.
“Oh er, Surrey” He responded. At her confused glance he elaborated. “England” Her eyes widened a little.
“Wow.” she said, looking into his eyes. “You must be sad to be so far from home”
Harry looked down. He muttered a small “yes” before getting lost in his thoughts. Aimee took this as her cue to be quiet so the two sat in silence stewing in their own thoughts.
It was approximately an hour later (not that Harry or Aimee had any concept of time) that the van screeched to a halt once more. Harry’s head snapped up and he stared at the back door of the van, praying once again that they wouldn’t come to the back. Somewhere in the back of Harry’s mind he knew that at some point eventually they had to come back here, if only to retrieve them once they reached wherever they were taking them. The van shook with the shock of the doors being slammed shut and he heard one set of footsteps walking away from the van and he allowed himself a sigh of relief before the door was thrown open. He had somehow missed the steps coming towards the back of the van. He was unhappy to find that he was still a captive of mustache man and the man with the beard, the latter was a few yards back from the van relieving himself on a tree. He was also saddened to notice that, once again, it was nighttime and they were on some sort of back road. Mustache man stepped up in the back of the van. He glanced over at Aimee who huddled into her little ball. He just chuckled and walked over to Harry. He grabbed him and dragged him towards the door where the man with the beard, apparently finished had arrived and was climbing up just as his partner was climbing down. Mustache man yanked Harry’s arm, pulling him down from the van causing Harry to yelp which earned him a cuff on the ear. Still holding on to his arm he dragged him a few feet into the woods before he stopped. Harry glanced up at him.
“Do your business, I won’t have you pissing in my car” said Mustache man. Harry paused a moment to see if he would let him go but it appeared he had no plans of releasing Harry’s arm. He didn’t really have to go, but he had already begun to learn the lesson of what happened if you didn’t follow orders. He grabbed the waistband of his pajama pants hesitantly with his right hand, his left still being held captive and out of reach. He kept glancing out of the corner of his eye at mustache man who was staring right at him. He reached inside his pants slowly before mustache man made an annoyed sound. To Harry’s surprise and embarrassment, mustache man switched the arm that was holding Harry’s to his left hand, slid behind Harry and reached around with his right. He jammed his hand right into his pants and grabbed at Harry’s penis, pulling it out. He leaned forward and Harry shivered when his mustache brushed his ear.
“You’d be best to get rid of this shyness cause plenty of people are going to be looking at you soon enough” He whispered.
Harry began shaking, a few stray tears falling down his cheeks. ‘God, why can’t I stop crying anymore!’ he berated himself. He pulled himself together and found that the man was still holding his penis and standing uncomfortably close to him. He reached his right hand forward to grasp himself to “do his business” but the man, once again, seemed like he had no intention of letting go. So, humiliated, Harry simply begin peeing. He felt like a small child just out of diapers. He was actually even shocked that he had anything in him, as he hadn’t had any food or drink since he had been taken which, he guessed, had been at least two days ago. But he just assumed that it had something to do with the drugs that he had been put under. When he finished the man shook him, taking an extra few fondles before he tucked him back into his pants. He turned him around and Harry saw Aimee being pulled out of the bushes by the man with the beard, her cheeks burning red. The man dragged Aimee back to the van and pushed her inside before shutting and locking the door. Harry was confused but was jerked out of his stupor when mustache man changed directions and pulled Harry towards the cab of the van. He climbed inside and pulled Harry in after him tugging him to sit on his lap, slamming the door as the man with the beard climbed in the drivers side. Harry just looked at the floor from his spot on mustache man’s lap until he moved him.
Mustache man pushed Harry backwards until he was laying on the seat with his head in the other man’s lap and his legs draped over mustache man’s legs. He stared at the ceiling trying to ignore where he was and what was going on as mustache man shifted and parted Harry’s legs settling between them and laid over top of him, squishing him in the already cramped cab. Harry looked at mustache man fearfully as fresh tears began coursing down now familiar track lines. Mustache man just stroked his cheek and the man with the beard began stroking his hair. Harry felt nauseous at the feeling of the erections of the older men poking him in the thigh and head.
Mustache man was the first to move. He pushed Harry’s shirt up and was groping his chest and running his hands over his flat stomach which was smooth like porcelain. He then tugged Harry’s pants down to around his knees and ran his hands over his thighs and private area. Harry was blushing red all over. Mustache man flipped him over and hoisted his bum up a little so that he was on all fours now.
“Now remember what boss said” the man with the beard reminded mustache man.
“Don’t’ worry” said mustache man before he opened his trousers and pulled his penis out once again. Harry’s breath was coming in frantic pants, freaking out over the situation. The man with the beard grabbed Harry’s shoulders and pushed them down so that they were touching the seat and his cheek was pressed against the leather. Mustache man spat in his hands crudely and began stroking himself. He spat several more times coating himself in a disgusting excuse for lubricant. Then he eased himself forward and shifted on his knees so that both of Harry’s legs were between them. This enabled him to push Harry’s thighs together tightly and hold them there. Then, he shoved his penis between Harry’s thighs, right where they joined his body. So he began a twisted parody of fucking Harry. Now, although he wasn’t actually fucking him, this was of no comfort to Harry who was still sobbing freely even as his hips were grabbed to meet mustache man’s over and over again. Mustache man finished squirting hot cum onto Harry’s stomach. He pulled Harry’s pants up and turned him over. He pulled Harry’s shirt down and rubbed it around wiping the cum off of Harry’s stomach. Not that it being on the inside of Harry’s shirt was any better.
A few minutes later found Harry kneeling on the floor of the cab between the man with the beard’s legs with his head being pushed to his revealed cock. Harry took it into his mouth but soon found that he was less inclined to thrust into Harry’s mouth as his partner was. He pushed Harry’s head up and down a few times before letting his hand just card through Harry’s hair as he bobbed up and down until he finally came. The man with the beard had barely tucked himself back in before Harry was ripped up and dragged back to the back door once more. He was thrown in and fell to the floor, barely seeing the point in sitting up. He heard the two men converse quietly for a few moments.
“Where should we head to now?”
“I think we’ve driven around enough to throw anyone off our trail, I say we head straight for Paris now”
“Should we put them under?”
“Nah, we’re only about an hour out, there’d be no point. Daray will want them awake to look at them right away.”
Then the men were back in the front and the van was moving again. So avoid sliding all over the van, Harry eventually hoisted himself up and crawled back to his corner. He curled up and stared at the ground for a while before chancing a glance at Aimee.
She was staring at him sadly but also in shock. Harry knew what she must have heard and felt. She obviously would have been able to feel the van rocking as they fucked him and heard the moaning. Which reminded Harry he hadn’t really cleaned himself off and he subconsciously wiped at his mouth which did have a little bit of cum that had dribbled out. He looked away, his cheeks coloring and he was sure he would have felt tears stinging his eyes if he hadn’t already cried most of his tears. He hadn’t even had the energy or the will anymore to try and formulate an escape. He glance back at Aimee and saw one last thing.
Fear.
Harry knew that she saw herself in his eyes. She saw what she would become soon, nothing more than a plaything. Harry looked away once again ashamed of what he had let himself become. Nevermind the fact that he was only 14 and was up against brilliant, dangerous underground folk. The two men who had captured him obviously weren’t brilliant, head honcho material but he knew about the kind of men who ram trafficking schemes. Why do you think they had never been caught? Because they were devious, dangerous and had connections everywhere. Harry doubted truly that he would ever see the light of day again. Because out here he wasn’t the boy who lived who everyone knew and recognized. Out here he was just another nameless face who no one would look twice at. And he was sure nobody would. The entire final stretch of the ride elapsed in complete silence until the van screeched to a halt. Harry heard the familiar feet walking around to the back of the van and was not surprised to see his two captors there once more to drag him away. The man with the mustache pulled Harry while the other one grabbed Aimee. They paused when they grabbed them and glared menacingly.
“One sound…and you’ll wish you had never been born.” Said the man with the beard before they were led out of the van. Harry saw why they were so adamant. For the first time they weren’t in the forest. They were in the city and it was clearly not the upper end. There were homeless and hookers in view. Downtrodden liquor stores with half lit neon signs lit up the street as well as one or two skin clubs. But Harry didn’t know what any of the signs meant, as they were in French. His eyes eventually slid to the building they were being pushed towards. It was sort of sunken in, as if it were trying to be inconspicuous. The only thing Harry found odd about it was the windows. There were four; three of them had pink curtains in them and the fourth was actually bare. But Harry saw a flash of activity and glanced up at the bare window again and saw a blue curtain being put up. He was then torn out of his thoughts as he was shoved roughly up the steps and inside. Where the door slammed shut behind him.
Finnian Siog 