Chaingang

Title: Chaingang
Author: Frey
Rating: NC-17 (I don't write anything less)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Seriously, if I owned these guys they'd be pornstars, not WWE superstars. *grins*
Warnings/Content: There'll be plenty of explicit, harcore gay sex. Slash-o-plenty. Rape, mostly...lol
Parings: Chris Jericho/Cena, Carlito/Cena, Randy Orton/Cena, Chris Masters/Cena... and JBL watches. More possible pairings to come. --- I changed Christian to Carlito, it fits in more with the current events.

Author's Note: Enjoy?


John reached for his bottle of Old Spice body wash as the scalding hot water of the locker room shower pummelled away at his skin. He loved the way Old Spice smelled; hence he always inhaled the scent deeply before lathering up. A grin spread its way across his lips, reminiscing on his last match, which he'd won of course. Being on RAW was one of the best things that have happened to John Cena in a while; he was planning on enjoying it to the fullest. Moments after spreading the translucent green gel on his body, he started to feel dizzy. His vision blurred, his senses were fading, he started to panic. "What the fuck is going on?!!" he managed to utter before completely blacking out.

"How long was this shit supposed to knock him out for?" was all John managed to hear, his senses slowly returning to him. The voices seemed familiar, but so foreign all at once. John squirmed, he opened his eyes to identify his surroundings, only to have his vision clouded by absolute darkness. His hands writhed at his sides, bound together with what seemed to be a tough rope. He was bound and gagged, blindfolded and all. John Cena started flopping around on the hotel room bed frantically, upsetting the sheets and the other occupants of the room.

"Hey boys, looks like sleeping beauty's up", a familiar voice chuckled...was it, JBL? No doubt, that Texan accent was unmistakable. John's eyes widened beneath the blindfold, he knew how much JBL seeked redemption on him, he was almost afraid of what the other man might do. "Heh, little punk-ass bitch. Who's the bad man now?" another voice said mockingly, sharply nudging John Cena in the ribs. "Fuck, no, no, no..." John thought to himself, squeezing his eyes shut...not that it mattered. A pair of hands untied the gag from John's mouth, hands that have touched him before. "Motherfucking Christ!" John Cena nearly screamed as soon as the gag was removed. He was rewarded with a swift smack across the face, which sent a stinging sensation throughout his face, eyes watering.

John Cena choked back a whimper as he felt a hand slowly stroke its way down his torso; he was wearing nothing but a towel. "Yeah baby, squirm you little slut." That was definitely Randy Orton, no doubt about it. Just...why? "Here, this'll come in handy" he heard another man say, this voice not sounding so familiar. Chris Masters tossed Randy Orton a digital camera while snickering. John spoke shakily; "Who...who else is here?" It was such a turn on to see such a tough "thug" reduced to a shaky mass of meat, irresistible. "Well..." JBL started, "There's me, Randy, Masterpiece, Chris Jericho and Carlito..." he chuckled and grabbed John's prominent jaws between his hand, grasping them firmly. "We're gonna have some fun with you boy, and the most ironic thing is that...you can't see me."

TBC...
Well, what do you think? It's only the first chapter, more of an introduction, preface sort of thing.
The nastiness is yet to come.