He squirmed when the boxers finally came off. The only good thing that came out of it was he could breathe properly again. He didn't try anything funny, he could have squirmed out of the shirt, but he didn't. There was no point anymore, he was stuck naked on the ground.<br/><br/>Jackson looked up at his terrified, he couldn't imagine multiple men ogling and touching him as they pleased. "I'd rather you kill me then have multiple men touch me..." He imagined them being fat, greasy, or just disgusting looking. None would be muscular like Onin, none would be attractive... They'd be selfish gluttons who'd use him like a cock sleeve and leave him there to stare at their work.<br/><br/>"Aren't you happy I picked up a fork and not a knife, why are you complaining!" He snapped, his emotions were all a mess now. He was feeling too much at once for his brain to function properly. He wanted to cry, to cry and curl up into a small ball and pretend it was all just some nasty dream he had.  He wanted it to be over with so he could lay down away from the other, probably chained somewhere dark and alone.<br/><br/>Slowly he squirmed his wrists and pulled his hands free from the shirt. "My wrists hurt, not like my punches will hurt you anyways fuckface," He set the shirt next to him, knowing if he placed it on his body i'd just be thrown away to expose him all over again.