Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/1461040. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage, Rape/Non-Con Category: M/M Fandom: Death_Note Character: Mikami_Teru, Kagami_Taro, Original_Male_Character(s) Additional Tags: Sexual_Content, Sexual_Assault, Sexual_Abuse, Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Parent/Child_Incest, Father/Son_Incest, Implied/Referenced_Torture, Torture, Muteness, Blood_and_Injury, Pain, Painful_Sex, Rape, Non- Consensual, Underage_Sex, Anal_Sex, Male_Slash, Slash, S&M, Sadism, Submission, Non-Consensual_Touching, Master/Slave, Corporal_Punishment, Punishment, Humiliation, Situational_Humiliation, Verbal_Abuse, Verbal Bondage, Implied/Referenced_Alcohol_Abuse/Alcoholism, Forced Crossdressing, Implied/Referenced_Child_Abuse, Implied/Referenced_Incest, Implied/Referenced_Domestic_Violence, Implied/Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced_Abuse, Wordcount:_100-1.000, Wordcount:_100-500, Wordcount:_500-1.000, Wordcount:_Over_1.000 Series: Part 1 of House_of_Endless_Torment Stats: Published: 2014-04-18 Words: 1760 ****** 13 years worth of torture ****** by BL_Arata Summary AR where there is no shinigamis or death notes. Rated E for content, language and suggestive themes. Mikami Teru is living with his fraternal twin brother Kagami Taro and their father. Taro likes Teru. For some reason, their father doesn't. At least not the way he should.... Notes See the end of the work for notes Smack! Teru's head threw sideways, when his father's open hand connected with his high cheekbone. The pain he felt quickly subsided. For as long as he could remember, his father had been an abusive drunkard. He didn't know what he could have possibly done to warrant his father's contempt, but he never questioned it. Questions only lead to another punch or kick followed by obscene words. A tearing sound filled Teru's ears as Shimura ripped off his shirt. Small and fading, almost completely invisible bruises covered his chest and upper abdomen. Shimura stared down at his son, his eyes showing no signs of lucidity. Realization of what would come next hit him like a merciless wave during a storm, and he begged, his pleading falling to deaf ears. "Father," Teru pleaded. "At least, let Taro leave the room." Taro, his fraternal twin, was seated in an armchair in the corner of the room. His father glanced briefly in Taro's direction before looking back at Teru with a sadistic grin. "He stays," Shimura said and pulled down his son's pants. Teru closed his eyes. His chest knotted tight in fear as he felt the removal of his boxers, and how Shimura began rubbing his bare rear end. Giving his son's buttocks a final stroke, Shimura stood up. "Wait here," he said and left the room. Swallowing hard in anticipation, Teru shivered on the cold basement floor. When his father returned, he was holding a small box in his hands. Shimura put the box on the floor right next to his son and opened the lid. "Put these on, and don't you say a word," he ordered Teru. With a sigh, Teru picked the outfit out of the box. The outfit consisted of a shirt, a red mini skirt, a pair of lolita styled knee stockings and a plain white colored apron that reached him down to his thighs. He wore no undergarment. "Do you know who you remind me of, Teru," his father asked. Teru shook his head. Shimura took in Teru's feminine appearance and whispered angrily; "Your mother". With a hard shove, Shimura pushed Teru down onto the floor. Teru fell flatly on his back. His father wasted no time to straddle him.  He grabbed his arms and raised them over Teru's head, keeping them immobilized with one hand while the other reached down under Teru's skirt. He began to shiver as he felt his father's fingers stroke his crotch. Shimura lowered his head in order to claim Teru's lips. Wide-eyed, Teru tried to fight against the unwanted kiss, but all it did was make saliva run down his chin, dripping onto the floor as his father deepened the kiss. Shimura grabbed hold of Teru's thigh, put the leg over his broad shoulder and used his bodyweight to add a slight pressure while he kept his firm hold of Teru's wrists. Teru closed his eyes when he felt a finger push into his entrance and a stinging pain soon followed. His father pushed slowly but firmly, rubbing the sides of Teru's rectum. Shimura let go of Teru's wrist, and put his hand on his son's buttock, to spread the distance between the cheeks and press in another finger. The scorching pain inside his bottom made him shiver and a light wave of nausea hit him. Shimura pushed harshly one last time before he evacuated his fingers in favor of the hardened length pressing in his pants. He released his vice grip of Teru and lowered his pants and boxers, revealing the hardened length already dripping of cum. He drew a deep breath, and pressed himself into his son's entrance. Teru's moaning became a full out scream. It didn't take long before tears streamed down his face. Oblivious to his son's weak protests and moaning, Shimura panted and pounded harder, until his face rose towards the ceiling in euphoria.   The feeling was too good, too irresistible. Looking down at his son's pained facial expression, what he saw wasn't a scared eleven year old boy. He saw the face of his ex-wife; the sole object of his hatred. The reason Shimura felt resentment towards Teru was simply because he was the spitting image of his mother. Which is why every punch he threw directed to his ex-wife was landed on Teru's body. At first he'd felt remorse, but with the help of liquor clouding his mind, the guilt faded after the first five months of occasional spankings. The guilt that had prevented him to express his violent tendencies was gone by the time Teru turned nine. Seeing the effects of the abuse he put Teru through left Shimura craving for more, and soon the light swats he planted occasionally on his son's bare bottom became frequent, longer and much harder.   A first, the spanking wasn't that bad. The swats were light and given without any excessive force behind them. Sometimes the spanking he received was done in private, other times they were given in front of his brother's innocent eyes. Every time his father got that look in his eyes, he knew what was going to happen and didn't try to plead or wriggle himself out of it. He knew from experience that resistance was futile, and so when his father told him to go to the chair and pull down his pants, he obeyed without a sound. His father would then sit down and pull him over his lap, putting the right hand on top of his back to lock him in the right position and slightly raise one leg so that his rear end was positioned higher than his lower back and giving the following swats an easy target.  Then, after giving the "lecturing speech", his father would struck him with all the skills developed from years of practice. The red shades his bottom adopted during the spanking faded within the first hour. The aching pain would remain for a few hours and the slight burning sensation was enhanced by the additional corner time he almost always received after a spanking session. He endured it all even though swallowing his pride every time he was ordered to abre his bottom was almost unbearable. He didn't care that his father saw him naked from the waist down, but baring himself in front of his brother for a fifteen minutes worth of spanking made him feel ashamed and self- conscious. The times Taro watched his fraternal twin be spanked by their father's otherwise gentle hands, he couldn't help but feel that Teru deserved it. Surely he had done something wrong to earn that kind of treatment. Since their father loved Taro dearly and would rather bit through his tongue than raise his hand against his youngest son, Taro's perspective was understandably clouded. Wanting to spare his brother from the ugly truth, Teru let him believe that he was bad and deserved to be treated the way their father always had. By the time Teru turned nine, his father's almost loving swats turned vicious.   "Pl-please," Teru pleaded as the intensified pounding made him feel as though he was slowly being ripped apart. "I.. I can't... take... this... any more," he gasped out, the pounding stammering his speech. He didn't want to plead; pleading enhanced the senses of shame. He didn't want to cry; crying ate him up 'til there was nothing left of him save for the hurt. A weird sensation of loss hit him as Shimura pulled out his length. Without a word, Shimura let go of his hold of his son, stood up and put on his pants again. With a satisfied smirk playing in the corner of hi smouth, Shimura pulled up his zipper. He then walked over to his second son and pulled him off the chair. He held Taro in a warm embrace and left the room, leaving his oldest son a sobbing mess on the floor with cum and a few specks of blood dripping between his legs.   It was at that time Shimura's hidden incestuous behavior towards Teru became physical. Traumatized from watching his older brother raped in front of him, Taro developed a selective mutism. During the following year, the abuse Shimura put Teru through was physical, and, the times when he felt the need for a release, sexual. From the four years of watching the abuse, Taro's warped sense of right and wrong took a turn for the worse. It was evident that the sadistic streak Shimura harbored had been passed on to his youngest child. When the twins turned twelve, Taro assisted his father in spanking his other half for the first time. Watching Teru bleed by his hands made Taro feel not only strong and powerful, but ecstatic as well. For him, it almost became a childish game to see how far he would have to go and how many implements he'd have to use before the satisfying scream of pain threatened to deafen his eardrums. During the following year, Taro experimented with various disciplinary tools. The two tools he mainly used to bruise Teru's bare thighs and rear end was a three tailed tawse and a wooden paddle.   One year later With his father's silent encourage, the thirteen year old Taro swooped down the plastic hair brush. The flat side of the brush made contact with Teru's skin with a loud cracking sound. The bare buttock trembled upon contact. A faint rosy shade appeared on Teru's left cheek. Pressing himself against the wall while bending forward, Teru silently counted the swats administered by his brother. 15... whack!... 16... whack!... 17... As he counted the swats, his mind slowly drifted. Apart from the repeated cracking sound the brush made while taking turns to tan each buttock, all that could be heard was Taro's heavy breathing. Whack!... 25... Whack!... 26... Whack!... 27... Whack!... 28... Whack!... 29... With a final whack!, the count ended at 30. Teru panted and opened his tightly shut eyelids, his brow laced of sweat. The burning sensation intensified as Shimura rubbed a considerable amount of tiger balm on Teru's lobster red buttocks. "You may dress yourself," Shimura told his son who was still, stark naked, pressing himself against the wall. With a sigh of relief and eyes watered by unshed tears, Teru put on the black thong and hot-pants. He then proceeded to put on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as per his father's request; the locked collar he wore around his neck for all to see. The name tag, to his father's amusement, read the lone word; "bottom". End Notes Ok... seriously I hadn't planned for this one-shot to go this far, but it sorta had a life on its own. Personally, I can't stand childmolesters so the fact that I wrote this amazes me. Some certain aspects was exaggerated, and while a few elements was borrowed from bdsm, this one-shot most certainly is NOT. Actually, I've had this idea lying in the back of my mind for a while where almost all of the characters ends up in Wammy's for different reasons, and, well, this was supposed to be Teru and Taro's reason. Perhaps you found this one-shot to be gross and poorly written, but if you happen to like to read stuff/fantasies like this, then I hope you enjoyed it. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!