Rescuing Angel

Warning: This is a work of fiction, a fantasy. Non-consensual sexual relations in the real world are not fun at all, terrifying and scaring. Fiction is a different beast all together. This story is a bodice ripper variety.

*

The courtroom was filled with sunlight. It made everything look clean and possible, hopeful. Angel Richardson watched sunlight stir up what little dust there was on the table, and refused to think about what would be coming next in his life.

At twenty-three, he hardly looked the part for which he was accused. Blond, shoulder length hair emerald eyes that were as easily guarded in expression as they were flippant or inviting. He didn't really remember much of his life before he'd arrived at Jones University and he couldn't explain where he'd been on the nights in question. He was a slender man, instinctively elegant, with a beautiful face, smooth pale skin, and lush golden eyebrows.

He certainly didn't think he'd killed anyone. Wearing a dark suit with a perfectly knotted tie, it was hard to think he was that kind of person, just from looking at him.

"All rise, the Honorable Judge Mavis Holmes now present!"

His lawyer nudged his elbow and Angel rose, watch for the almost motherly figure to settle herself at the raised desk. The jury followed in a moment later, looking grim.

"Be seated."

Again, Angel's lawyer touched his elbow and the both sat down.

"Mr. Richardson," Judge Holmes started, "This has been a very short trial. The evidence against you is extremely substantial and difficult to refute. The jury's verdict has not been read, but I have the opportunity to offer you a chance to plea bargain."

The room went silent a cold coffee.

The victim's family mumbled.

Angel looked up from the dust he'd been watching. "A plea bargain?"

"I object," Angel's lawyer said. "This is very irregular."

"Mr. Richardson, please approach the bench."

Angel looked at his lawyer, over to the jury foreman, then back to the judge. His lawyer shook his head and Angel realized he'd never much liked his lawyer. He took a step away from him and somehow felt his thoughts begin to clear a little.

"Come here, Mr. Richardson," Judge Holmes said firmly.

He nodded and approached the bench, somehow wishing he'd never go near his own lawyer again. His voice was mellow, softly accented, very softly Southern. "What kind of plea?"

"I think there have been irregularities in this trial which would force a miss trial, but to avoid that I'd like to offer you the opportunity to change your plea to innocent due to temporary insanity. I shall then remand you to the Raven Wood Institute, until such time as medical personal certify that you are sane. It is a private and experimental facility, but I have to think a better option than risking life in prison or execution."

Angel drew a deep breath, his whole body shivering now. The numbness that had clouded his thoughts and future burning off with the dawn. "I don't think I killed anyone."

"That would be difficult to prove, one way or the other, but the doctor in charge of Raven Wood has had some success in resolving these issues. He may be able to help you face whether you committed the crime or not. Do you accept this arrangement?"

"I do."

"I object," his lawyer shouted. "Mr. Richardson's family did not hire me to facilitate his incarceration in a medical facility."

"No, Mr. Bernabe, but I'm not exactly sure what they did hire you for either. If it were within my power, I would investigate Mr. Richardson's family myself." She smacked her gavel down with authority, face grim.

Angel drew another breath, deep and clear, but he was still shivering as the bailiff escorted him out of the courtroom. He wanted to know, really wanted to know, if he were guilty of murder. Perhaps this doctor could help him find the rest of his life as well.

It all moved so quickly, that he found himself leaving the courtroom and being moved into a large windowless van. There were two solidly built guards.

"Clothes," one of them said, "Folded, in the plastic bin."

"What do I change into," Angel asked, backing away again.

"Oh, I don't think you need to change into anything," the second man said, mouth curling into a snarl. "I bet that judge is spitting nails now."

"Why," Angel asked, now pressed against the back doors, hands seeking some kind of latch.

"We went to a lot of trouble to acquire you, Angel," First Man said, "We're not letting you be sent to some medical facility. You were supposed to go to prison for life. From there it was going to be easy to purchase you. Now we've had to resort to piracy." "That judge is a pain in the ass."

"Let me go! People will look for me!"

"I'm sure they will, thanks to that judge, but it won't matter to you, little kitty. You're a sex slave now. Get that? That tight little ass of yours is going to get ridden and like a well trained pony. You like having cock up your ass?"

"Fuck you," Angel growled, tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm an American citizen in America! You can't do this to me!"

The second man pulled a gun, smiling tolerantly. "Time to sleep, Pretty boy."

"Please let me go! I have a life! I have friends."

"Not anymore you don't," Man with a Gun said, aiming. There was a puff of sound and Angel looked down to see a dart in his chest. A couple panicked breaths later darkness closed around him. He slumped towards the floor, calm wrapping thickly around him not matter how he fought against it. The last sensation was just the vibration of the moving van.

***

The next sensation was chill metal against his bare back. He moaned softly, a leg bending, cold feeling even more intense against the base of his foot. "No...."

Gloved fingers skimmed down his side, over bare ribs, across his bare hip. "Yes, yes," a woman's voice said. "Don't be afraid, Angel. I'm a doctor. I'm just going to examine you right now. Relax, enjoy the sensation. You can't stop anything that's going to happen. You're beautiful. This is your future."

"No," Angel said, trying to roll away, only to feel thick leather strap tightening down on his chest. "Please..."

"Angel, relax. I'm going to insert a solid object into your anus. It's just to make it easier to administer an enema shortly. It's not going to hurt."

"Why?"

"Because pain comes later," the woman said, her gloved finger circling slowly around the rosy pucker between Angel's legs.

She couldn't have been the only person in the room, because other hands pulled his ankles into cool stirrups. He bucked, but straps held his feet firmly in the stirrups. Panic drove him to open his eyes, but he found only darkness, no matter how hard he thrashed. Her finger pressed into him, forcing his body open, slowly, unavoidably. Finger slick, the invading digit moved back and forth, slicking his vulnerable entrance up. "See, that's not so bad, is it?"

"Please, don't," he begged, confused by the hardness tightening in his belly and in his cock. "What are you going to do?"

She with drew her finger, but very soon a solid round tipped object replaced it. Pressing forward, spreading his resisting muscle, until it was deep and firmly inside him. The very deepest end swelled then, making him squirm and try to force the object out of his body.

"It won't come out, now that it's properly inserted. It will help your muscles learn to accept objects filling your anus and there is an easy opening for the enema nozzle, so there won't be any fight over that. We'll get you all filled up and cleaned out, dear."

"You can't do this to me!" He cried, knees trying futilely to come together.

She ran her fingers slowly up his hardening cock though, one gloved finger circling the slightly weeping tip.

"Really, I'm about done with you, Angel. You were not harmed in your transport. Next you get to see our esthetician. She's likely going to want to trim your pubic hair, shape your eyebrows a little. You're very beautiful as you are. I doubt she'll need to spend much time with you. Then you'll be off to have your first public enema and perhaps a public spanking. We need you to understand your place here. I think you'll like your time here with us. After you're trained well, we'll find you a Master or a Mistress and you'll be sold."

"Sold?"

"That's right, Angel. You're a sex slave. The life can be very good or it can be very short and unpleasant. You're smart and beautiful. I expect you'll have a very nice time. Bruno, let Leta know she can come visit or new hire now, please."

**

Dr. Theo Long stared at the emerald-eyed man in the photo. He'd lobbied to have Angel transferred to his facility. He was sure he could help him. He was also sure that Angel was innocent. He didn't have any rational explanation for the second certainty.

He'd read the man's history and case file with nearly an obsessive hunger. Never had a patient interested him so very much. The man's poetry and paintings, the way he moved, the sound of his soft spoken voice, the almost shyness of his smile, and Dr. Long understood very well what his feelings added up to. How he'd fallen in love with a man he'd never even met, who he was betting his career on so that he'd have a chance to help the man, these were questions he couldn't answer himself and wasn't going to ask anyone else either.

His secretary tapped at the door. There was no one else who would approach his door with a tentative knock.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Long," she said, opening the door just enough to step inside. "Angel Richardson has been kidnapped. The police pursued the vehicle that took him, but lost it. They are still searching for him."

Theo closed the folder he had been looking at, hiding Angel's face. "Keep me updated, Ms. Hamilton."

"Of course, Doctor."