DESCENT INTO DARKNESS

I sat at on the ground cross-legged, feasting on the cooked meat. Around me the celebration continued. Some of the Gayboy Berserkers still worked on skinning and gutting the animals. The Humungus and Wez were busy eyeing the barrels of gasoline. A few Mohawkers looked over the other booty that consisted of blankets, clothing, canned goods, candles and other items the defenders needed to run the compound. The Smegma Crazies busied themselves with unloading the containers of water from their vehicles.

        I don’t know why we just didn’t move the camp to the site we just raided. Whatever we desired was there and it sure would make life easier. But, these marauders seemed to prefer their nomadic lifestyle.

        I finished off the rest of the meat. For once in my life I was stuffed. Now I avoided looking at our three prisoners. But yet, how could I avoid them? They were lashed to poles just off to the bonfire.
 

        Why did Wez give the order to bring back the three captured men? God, we successfully raided the compound. Couldn’t my master just be satisfied with his victory? Why bother holding them captive? I knew the three defenders would never be allowed to join the Dogs of War.
 

        I dreaded the thought upon me since I already had my answer. This was the first time Wez and I did not celebrate after a raid. Once we left the compound, we rode back to camp without making any pit stops. And I knew why Wez chose to wait. He wanted to carry out the torture on the surviving defenders and then cart me off so he could celebrate.
 

        The women continued to cook the meat over an open pit. I realized then I was the only person who did nothing. Now I thought about the raids, the maintenance performed on our camp sites and whatever else had to be done in order to survive. Even Wez had his tasks to oversee since he led all the pillages. While everyone else did their duties, all I had to do was serve my master his food, see to his dressing and then drop my pants so he could fuck me.
 

        Now I felt slightly guilty, so I rose off my lazy butt and headed over to where the Smegma Crazies continued to roll out the containers.
 

        As I approached them, I realized Wez watched me. He frowned and then pointed to the log at the bonfire. Exasperated, I turned on my heel and briskly walked back to where I previously sat. What the hell was the matter with him?
 

        Wez stormed over just as I took a seat on the log.
 

        “What were you going to do?” he snarled.
 

        My eyes narrowed as I glared at him. “Was just going to help with the water containers.”
 

        “You don’t help them,” he spat out. “Is their duty. Is what they must do to show their loyalty.”
 

        “Well, what am I supposed to do?” I asked.
 

        “Nothing,” he firmly replied as he folded his powerful arms. “You are my Golden Youth. You not perform work beneath you. Your only job is to see to me.”
 

        “Fine,” I snapped. “But it does get a little boring, y’know.” Then I quickly covered my mouth, realizing I just spoke out to my master in such a disrespectful manner.
 

        But Wez looked amused. “Don’t worry. You won’t be bored for long.” He turned then, giving his hissy laugh as he stocked away.
 

        I sighed, knowing what he meant. So for another half hour I just watched everyone work. Then when the moon was high in the sky, Wez motioned for me. So I met him halfway and stopped in front of the bonfire.
 

        “Get my weapons,” he ordered.
 

        A feeling of dread overpowered me. I didn’t want to watch the men being tortured. God, already I was responsible for a death. Now I’d have to stand to the side and watch Wez toy with the defenders.
 

        I grabbed his saddle bag off the bike and threw the heavy crossbow over my shoulder. As I headed back to the main bonfire, everyone had gathered around in a huge circle.
 

        Their cheers filled the air as they sampled the cooked meat while eagerly waiting for the torture to begin. I hardly thought this was the time to eat.
 

        The Smegma Crazies and Gayboy Berserkers had parked their vehicles around the bonfire. And the Mohawkers rode their bikes, whooping and shouting, while holding up torches.
 

        The Humungus stepped forward then.
 

        The Toadie stood up on the leader’s big vehicle. “Silence,” he called out. “The Lord Humungus speaks.”
 

        The camp quickly quieted. All that could be heard was the crackling of the bonfires.
 

        The Humungus seated himself in the chair of his vehicle. He switched on the microphone and his amplified voice carried through the night in a thick echo.
 

        “My Dogs of War,” he began, “I commend you for your obedience, loyalty and courage. Because of your warrior fierceness, tonight we celebrate our most successful raid.”
 

        Before he could finish, the camp erupted into loud cheers, whistles and shouts.
 

        “I always said if you followed my command, the wasteland would be ours,” the Humungus stated in a rich voice. “And this raid proves nothing can stop us!”
 

        Again, more cheers filled the night air. Now everyone stood, clapping and shaking their fists. The energy emanating from their bodies filled the atmosphere with electrifying excitement.
 

        “We all celebrate!” the Humungus exclaimed as he now stood, gesturing at his loyal Dogs of War. “Wez, you may begin.”
 

        The master stepped forward and I laid out his saddlebag and weaponry. Then I moved about a foot away, taking my place beside Rebel.
 

        Wez threw back his head and gave a hissy, loud laugh. Then he picked up a knife and deftly walked to the frightened defenders.
 

        His smile was so familiar to me, the same cunning, evil, sadistic smile he gifted me with when we first met. But he made no movement as he stood in front of the prisoners.
 

        Then he turned and looked at me. “Golden Youth,” he hollered, “you may have the honor of leading the torture!”
 

        Oh God, I swear my hair stood on end as everyone began chanting and clapping, eagerly waiting for me to lead the brutal attack on these innocent men.
 

        I took a deep breath and pushed any thoughts aside. Courage. I had to do this. Every marauder was present, along with our leader.
 

        I stepped forward and Wez held out the knife. The bile rose in my throat and I quickly swallowed. My eyes were vacant and staring as I gazed at the one defender.
 

        “What would you like me to do, Master?” I softly asked, still staring at the man who did his best not to show fear.
 

        I laced my fingers around the handle.
 

        “Whatever you wish, Golden Youth,” Wez replied in a gruff voice.
 

        Now everyone began calling out various torturous acts I should perform on the helpless man. I concentrated on drowning out the noise. My head was held high as I stared hard into the prisoner’s eyes.

        I ignored the man’s silent pleas, the mercy he hoped I would show him. I raised the knife just as a hush fell over the crowd and slashed the sharp blade across the man’s face.
 

        The defender screamed from my sudden attack. The blood gushed from his open wound and seeped down his chin. The crowd erupted into another cheer. Once again I raised the blade and the man choked back on his bile and spit on my face.
 

        “Fucking kid!” he roared.
 

        My eyes narrowed. Instinctively, I swiftly moved the knife along his head, severing his ear, and with the back of my hand I wiped the spittle off my face.
 

        The man screamed again, gazing at his ear that lay in the dirt.
 

        I didn’t stop. Something inside of me just snapped. Never did my heart pound with such rage and anger when he thought to spit on me, showing me such disrespect in front of my master and his people.

        I motioned at Rebel to strip the man of his clothes. Rebel stepped forward and yanked down the man’s pants and then tore open his shirt.
 

        “You think to spit on me?” I whispered, my voice laced with hate. “Fucker!”
 

        The man screamed and shuddered when I reached forward and cut off his manly part. His penis fell to the ground as blood gushed from his groin at full force, splattering my clothing.
 

        Then I severed his balls. The sack fell to the ground. I picked up his manly parts and with my body shaking from the rage and hate within me, I shoved the members into his mouth.
 

        The crowd roared with laughter.
 

        I was just about to raise the knife again when Wez tightened his fingers around my wrist. I turned and looked at my master. His eyes blazed with hate. He was as furious as me with this man’s disrespect.
 

        So I stepped to the side and relished watching my master brutally cut out the man’s tongue.
 

        “You dare spit on my Golden Youth,” Wez snarled.
 

        Then he cut off the man’s fingers.
 

        The defender no longer screamed. He seemed to be in shock. Yet the two other prisoners did enough shouting for him. Both were fearful, watching their comrade being slowly cut to pieces, knowing they’d be next.
 

        I felt no mercy for any of them. And watching my master defend my honor filled my loins with lust-filled heat. Before he could sever the man’s nose, I grabbed his hand and yanked him to me.
 

        The master gazed at me with hungry eyes. He handed the knife to Rebel and with the crowd cheering, he picked me up and carted me off to the tent.
 

*****
 

        I sat perched on the rock as the hot sun beat down on me. Yet, I relished the heat warming my skin. My hair was wet and I gave a sigh when Wez lathered up the shampoo and massaged my scalp with his rough fingers.
 

        Both of us were dirty and still caked in blood from the torture last night. It felt so good to cleanse my body of all that transpired.
 

        Wez raised the bucket and poured the water over my hair, washing the last of his seed from my silken strands. I was most likely covered in semen since we didn’t stop our lust-filled attack on each other till dawn began to break.
 

        He picked up the rag and began lathering up the soap, running the cloth along my back. Gently, he kissed the nape of my neck while he continued to bathe me.
 

        “I could sit out here forever,” I softly said.
 

        He rose off the rock and seated himself in front of me. His hands ran along my legs with the wash cloth and then he began washing my feet.
 

        “You like it out here?” he asked.
 

        I didn’t expect my comment to lead into a conversation. And his question took me by surprise. The most Wez ever did is give his grunts, snarls and blast a few orders at me.
 

        “Yeah, I do.” My voice was just barely a whisper.
 

        “Why?” he asked.
 

        “I dunno. It’s just nice.” I shrugged my shoulders.
 

        “What makes it nice?”
 

        I smiled.
 

        His eyes lit up then and he held my one foot in his hand. “Is first time I see you smile,” he gruffly stated. “Why you smile?”
 

        “Cause you asked why it’s nice out here,” I replied. “It’s nice cause we’re out here together, alone. Nobody’s buggin’ us.”
 

        “You like being with me?” he asked. His hazel eyes carefully studied me.
 

        “Yeah, I do.”
 

        “What else you feel in here?” he asked, pointing at my chest as he continued to wash my legs.
 

        I gazed at him. For so long he possessed my body. Yet, now that he asked what lay inside of me, I shuddered. What did I feel?
 

        “Answer me,” he barked.
 

        He stopped washing my legs and stared at me.
 

        “What do you want me to feel, Master?” I asked.
 

        “No,” he growled. Casting aside the rag, he stood, glaring at me. “You tell me what you feel!”

        Then he got on his haunches, hovering over my lap as he gazed into my eyes. He held my cheeks with his fingers and I could hear his heavy breaths.
 

        “I . . .” My body shook. “I . . .” I took a deep breath. “Master, you know I belong to you.”
 

        When Wez backhanded me, I tumbled over, my jaw slack since I never expected him to hit me. My eyes narrowed and I sat up, glaring at him. “Why the fuck did you hit me?” I hollered.
 

        My hand was against my cheek since it throbbed with pain.
 

        “What do you feel?” he roared. He stood and in two strides was upon me. He sat back on his haunches as he grabbed my shoulders and began shaking me.
 

        “Stop it,” I protested. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
 

        “Don’t you ever talk back to me again,” he hissed.
 

        Now our faces were only inches apart. His chest rose and fell with his anger. “I protect you. I share what I have with you. And what do you give me!”
 

        “What more do you want from me?” I asked. “I give you my body. I obey you. I do everything you ask of me.”
 

        “You refuse to answer,” he spat out. “Answer me!”
 

        I held his stare. “Is this what you want?” I asked, pointing at my heart.
 

        “Golden Youth, don’t try my patience,” he warned me.
 

        “Fine,” I snapped. “I love you! That’s what you want me to say, right?”
 

        “Not like this,” Wez hollered as he slammed his fist on the ground.
 

        For the longest time we stared at each other. Oh God, even a sadistic killer desired to be cherished and loved, needing approval from a golden youth no heavier than one-hundred and twenty-five pounds and just under five-ten.
 

        I realized at that moment just like I needed his protection, safety and nourishing care, he also needed me.
 

        “I love you,” I softly said. “I love you, Master.”
 

        Wez drew me against him then, tightly clutching me in his arms. Gently, he stroked my hair. His cheek was pressed deep against mine. He nuzzled my flesh, seeming to want to erase the earlier pain he dealt me with the back of his hand.
 

        “Do you love me, Master?” I whispered.
 

        “You know what I feel,” he quietly replied in his gruff voice.
 

        We tightly hugged again. Now was not the time to be engaging in sex. Instead, we spent our bittersweet moment just lightly touching one another, gently caressing each other’s flesh. I swear his worshiping touch meant more to me than the sexual acts we engaged in. Tasting the master’s manhood, or feeling his tongue between my buttocks, or having him deep inside of me couldn’t compare to the soft feel of his lips pressed against mine and the deep love he held for me emanating from his eyes.
 

        I thought about the Mohawker’s comment when he spoke about the power beauty can possess, greater than strength and what motivates the hunt for sex that keeps this wasteland alive.
 

        Yet, I found something much more powerful than strength, beauty and sex. I knew at that moment I would do anything to ensure Wez never stopped loving me.
 

*****
 

        Once again we moved the camp. By now, at least another six months must have went by. I was setting up the tent, hammering the pegs into the ground. In a few months I’d mark my seventeenth birthday.
 

        I thought about how fast time went. I couldn’t believe how long I’d been with the Dogs of War now.

        Home. I looked to the setting sun and briefly thought about my mother and uncle. Yet, no feelings of sadness or guilt came over me. It seemed like my life before Wez had been nothing but a dream.
 

        I realized if I did have some surviving family, and if they did try to bring me back, I would refuse to return. Never would I allow myself to be separated from Wez and I had no regrets with the path I chose.

        Okay, sure I hadn’t been given a choice. Still, if I had to do this all over again, I would leave with my master.
 

        I possessed a new vest and pants, along with boots much similar to my previous outfit. During our last raid we had come upon other nomads of the wasteland and since I admired the getup one of the younger men had worn, Wez had ensured to scavenge the clothing for me. Yet, I never parted with my collar and chain the master gave me. He seemed to treasure the symbol of his ownership over me as much as I did.
 

        Then I thought about why I needed new clothes. No longer was I a skinny teenager. Manhood was gaining on me and I stood six feet now. With a good helping of testosterone, my chest had filled out, along with my arms. Okay, I’d never possess the muscles Wez did, but at least I wasn’t skinny anymore. My forearms were graced with light, golden hair, along with my legs. My armpits also possessed a thatch of hair. And the once soft, downy stubble around my groin had vanished. Now, I possessed the coarse pubic hair of a man. Just my face remained smooth, along with my chest.
 

        I thought about Wez’s words. Why have a pretty woman when I can have a beautiful golden youth? Did he only like young boys? Would he cast me aside for another young lad?
 

        No! I refused to give up my master. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d let him just toss me into the wasteland while he rode off with someone else.
 

        “Golden Youth, quit thinking,” Wez warned me as he strode up to the tent.
 

        I glanced up at him. “You always seem to know when I’m thinking,” I muttered.
       

        “Can see it in your eyes,” he replied. “You worry. Why now?”
 

        “I’m not worrying,” I insisted. Then I gazed at the hammer, clearing my throat. “We will always be together, right, Master?”
 

        Wez snorted. “You think too much. I told you long time ago, you are mine.”
 

        I glanced up at him and smiled.
 

        “Get back to work,” he ordered me. “Rebel and the others will be back soon.”
 

        I nodded my head. So once the tent was pitched, I made up our bedding of fur robes and began sorting through the candles and other belongings I hauled out from the Landau.
 

        Just then I could hear the mighty roar of engines. Rebel and the other Mohawkers had arrived. Before we located our base camp, they had spied other nomads through their binoculars so they had chased the other marauders while the rest of us continued on. I’d actually been rather surprised Wez didn’t speed off on the chase. Instead, we had rode beside the Humungus.
 

        I left the tent and headed to the bonfire to see what was up. Already, Rebel and the others had gotten off their big bikes. Two captives screamed in fear. Both were women.
 

        Then I became startled when I gazed at the pretty boy who looked maybe a year or two younger than me. He darted out from behind the women, his eyes wide with fear.
 

        The moment was surreal. Memories invaded my mind. Did I look as frightened as the boy when Wez first abducted me? Now I could understand why Wez took me captive.
 

        Vulnerability, innocence, an air of naivety, all those traits spoke of a delicate beauty hidden underneath long lashes, silken hair, a slim, defenseless body and an angelic face. How could one resist such pure exquisiteness?
 

        I searched out my master. He stood at the six-wheeled vehicle with the Humungus. Wez also eyed the prisoners.
 

        A new feeling consumed my soul. Yes, fear was present, but it was so different this time. Along with this great emotion, I could sense something else.
 

        I looked away and began quickly walking. The intense, choking feeling made my skin perspire and my stomach twisted with pain.
 

        All those beautiful traits Wez found enchanting in me had vanished. My descent into darkness was complete. I was as hardened as the others who followed the Humungus.
 

        There was nothing beautiful about me any longer. I had let this life rob me of the warm, shy, caring feelings I’d possessed as a fifteen-year-old boy. And the further I walked, I realized one could not turn back.

        How could I be the person I once was? I killed, I tortured, and sat on a bike, watching sadistic animals murder and rape innocent people. And I celebrated their deaths each time by having sex on a motorcycle.
 

        “I told you to never leave the camp without me,” came the hissing voice.
 

        I turned, realizing Wez had followed me. He was shrouded in darkness, yet I could see the anger in his eyes.
 

        “I’m sorry,” I replied, flustered as I tried to shake off my thoughts. “I didn’t mean to walk so far.”
 

        “I told you to quit thinking,” he spat out. Then his anger vanished. “Come,” he said, extending his arm. “We eat. Serve me my food.”
 

        So I followed him back to the camp. The prisoners were chained together now. Iron links were also locked around their feet and handcuffs encircled their wrists.
 

        I headed to the center of the camp, grabbing a container of smoked jerky. The pretty boy glanced at me, his eyes filled with fear. Quickly, I looked down, grabbing some fresh water.
 

        “Please,” the boy begged.
 

        His beseeching, soft cry startled me. I gazed at the boy and his eyes filled with tears.
 

        “Golden Youth,” Wez barked.
 

        I turned away, trying to shake off the boy’s haunting gaze. The container was clutched tightly against my chest as I strode over to my master.
 

        I set down the container at Wez’s feet.
 

        “Quit looking at him,” he muttered. “I know what you think, Golden Youth. Sometimes you think me so savage that I not have a brain.”
 

        I gasped.
 

        “He not have your courage, and yea, he ask you to help him because he knows you are the only one here who feels sorry for him.”
 

        “What are you talking about?” I muttered. Then I took a seat beside him and readied the food and water. “I’m just like everyone else here.”
 

        Wez gave a snort.
 

        Now I turned and glared at him. “What? You don’t think I am?”
 

        “You only do this to please me,” he gruffly said. “I know you better than you know yourself. You are not like any of us. Is why you are mine. You will never be like any of us.
 

        “They will rape and kill him. And I know you will be sad when this happens.”
 

        “Why doesn’t one of the Berserkers keep him?” I asked.
 

        “He cries and begs. He not have any courage,” Wez muttered. “He not have what it takes to be a warrior of the wasteland.”
 

        “And when you first took me, you thought I did?” I asked.
 

        Wez chewed on the jerky and swallowed the dried meat. Then he took a deep drink of his water. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You not cry. You didn’t beg. You were ready to face death like a warrior.
 

        “You not like what you saw, but you accepted it. You did what you have to do to please me. Your loyalty is strong.”
 

        “You know I’ll do anything you ask of me,” I whispered.
 

        “Yea, I know,” he replied. “Is why you’re my Golden Youth. I watch you grow into a man and you more beautiful now then when I first take you.”
 

        We didn’t talk anymore. Such intimacy was something Wez rarely allowed. I knew he only let me get a peek at his soul in small bits and pieces. Yet, I knew why. How could he be a Dog of War if he was running about like a lovesick, emotional fool?
 

        He said the boy’s rape and killing would bother me. Yet, I felt nothing when I watched a Gayboy Berserker tear off the boy’s clothes and begin sexually assaulting him. Then the Berserker picked up the crossbow. The boy lay on the ground, almost passing out from the brutal assault on his body.
 

        When the Berserker fired the crossbow, I placed my hand on my master’s thigh. “Can we go to bed? I’m horny.”
 

        Wez nodded his head and we rose off the ground. Death haunted the camp, a young boy murdered, but nobody cared.
 

        I guess I didn’t care either because if Wez would have joined in the rape, I would have killed that kid myself.
 

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