Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Chapter 374: Monty ‘Phordite (18+)

ʼThe fuck heʼs been at?!ʼ The word anger could not justify what Monty had been feeling since Ray left the house without giving him his pay. The boys had made a deal, a deal that should not have been broken for the merchant in the maze were not doing charity. ʼIʼm gonna beat the ever living shit out of this bastard…ʼ

Standing in front of Rayʼs house cloaked like a merchant of the maze himself, his dark eyes glanced around late at night trying to find some way to slip into the house without being caught instantly. Moving through the shadows, he slipped closer to the building. Keeping himself hidden in the houseʼs shade, he moved around without a sound until he noticed a window by what shouldʼve been Rayʼs room.

ʼThere, I should be able to unlock it and get in.ʼ Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small hairpin and extended it to be straight. Slipping the pin in between the shutters of the window panels, he moved it up and down until he felt a latch on the other end. ʼPut it under and pull it up, that should do it…ʼ

Doing just as heʼd told himself, the young boy managed to undo the latch holding the window closed. Putting the pin back into his pocket, he looked around the dark streets, ensuring nobody was watching him as he pulled himself in through the window. Once inside, his eyes instantly laid on Ray–fast asleep with beads on beads of sweat trailing down his face and the rest of his body.

ʼIs he sick?ʼ Smelling the sweat and grime in the air, Monty covered his nose and began snooping through Rayʼs room. He was looking for the money he was owed by his ʼso-calledʼ friend. Heʼd bought the portrait from him after all, and itʼs been way past the due date for his payment.

Glancing over to him again as he slept, Monty let down his hood and pondered just why the idiot ran away from giving him his payment. Unaware that Ray was dragged away by his mother before he could give Monty anything, the boy wanted to spit on his face.

ʼYou wanna jerk off to your mom, fucking fine, but pay me you motherfucker.ʼ Still holding his anger, Monty kept looking around for the money that he was owed for peddling the painting. ʼI should beat the shit out of him next time he comes begging me for that dream drug.ʼ

Speaking of the drug, Montyʼs eyes opened wide as he realized that he still had a glass tube full of that stuff in his pouch. Reaching inside, he took out the greenish liquid encased in a vial of glass. Staring at it, he wondered if he should use it to exact revenge on Ray by torturing him in his dream.

A medicine of no name, it was capable of showing dreams so surreal you could feel everything as if it was taking place in reality. Ray often used to either watch his mother being fucked or attempt to fuck her himself, however, even in his dreams he couldnʼt escape his natural inclination to be a cuck.

But Monty had another idea, with just a spill in Rayʼs mouth and a pinch on his shoulder, he could simulate a dream of torture–what kind? He wouldnʼt know, but whatever it turns out to be, would be one hell of an experience for a pay-dodger.

ʼNahhh…I need to sell this, sisterʼs funds must be running dry since winterʼs far gone at this point.ʼ Putting the vial back into his pocket, the aspiring merchant of the underworld, cut his losses short and bagged the money that heʼd just managed to find. ʼItʼs short by a few coins, but–ʼ

Ready to leave, Monty was headed right for the window again, but his body froze at the sight of something familiar sticking out of Rayʼs unzipped bag. It was a pair of female underwear, one heʼd seen before in his household laundry. Although reluctant to touch it at first, upon realizing who it belonged to, he picked it out of the bag and turned his gaze to the sleeping beauty.

ʼAre you fucking serious…ʼ He thought, his fists clenched and his eyes burning with anger. Putting the clothes into his pocket, he tried to keep his calm while looking around for more clothes that belonged to his sister. One after the other, he found plenty–not all of them salvageable since they appeared to have been used for the gnarliest of activity.

”Okay, thatʼs fucking enough!” Instead of running away after getting his money, Monty moved up the bed and grabbed Ray by the collar. Jolted away in shock, the degenerate boy was far too disoriented to talk. But that didnʼt stop Monty from carrying out his punishment ”You can keep those fucking clothes, you bastard.”

Summoning a dark astral hand with his thief abilities, the boy stuffed the used clothes down Rayʼs throat with the dark hand. Choking him as he stared wide-eyed at him, Monty spat on Rayʼs face and began punching him while he struggled to scream with the many pairs of panties down stuffing his mouth.

Unsure if he was dreaming or if this was real life, Rayʼs mind was shattered more than it already was, thanks to the drugs that made him jerk off all day, night and even in his dreams.

By the time he realized what was happening to him, blood covered every inch of his face, his eyes were swollen from the beating and his mouth and throat cut in places from the crust clothes shoved down inside him forcefully.

Leaving him in a bloody mess, his own knuckles now scrapped of skin, Monty stood by the window glaring Ray down. For half an hour, the boy bounced between wanting to beat Ray some more or simply leaving the house. Finally, as he made the decision to let him live, he didnʼt wanna go without at least a word of warning.

”You come to my house next time and so much as look at my sister…” Clenching his fist with narrowed eyebrows, the boy let his anger be known in his temperate tone. ”Iʼll kill you, Ray. You might be a friend, but I donʼt love ya more than my sister loves knitting.”

A comfortable house, a horde of customers every winter even though the folks of the lower city couldnʼt afford to buy new clothes every year, a good standard of education for himself, and enough money to feed themselves until the next winter…In that moment, everything became clear to the tortured boy.

His friend was nothing like the sorry excuse of a man that he was, but rather a brother who innocently loved and secretly helped his sister.

Yet, his mind scrambled by his depravity and the drug to make him dream surreally, all Ray could think was how he could get the cage off of his cock–something that he wouldnʼt have to worry about as the next morning would come, but not in ways he couldʼve expected, instead as an man whose fate would be ʼlockedʼ forever.