“What the fuck you think, faggot?” I snarled.
Then I leaned back an’ let my hands go down his legs an’ drew ‘em back up, pullin’ one shorts’ leg up with it. He tried to buck me off, but I smacked my legs against his sides, knockin’ the wind out of him. He stayed still, tryin’ to catch his breath. Then I shifted around to straddle his chest an’ looked down at his crotch. An’ I unzipped his shorts an’ saw he’s wearin’ white Haynes or Jockeys or somethin’ generic, like that. Nice an’ clean, too.
I could just hear Shayes whisperin’, “Please, please, you don’t want to do this. I’m not that way. Please. I got a wife. I got kids. I -- I haven’t seen you. Any of you. Please, just let me go. I -- I won’t report it. Please.”
“Don’t worry,” I whispered, caressin’ his belly. “We’re just gonna have some fun.”
Then I pulled his briefs up away from his dick, an’ saw he was small an’ clean an’ cut. Just like he promised.
He tried to wiggle away, so I let his briefs snap back into position an’ shifted ‘round on him, again, to where I was lyin’ on top of him. Man, my dick was poundin’ against my jeans, beggin’ to get out. An’ he could feel it grindin’ against his own. I held him tighter, like I was comfortin’ him. I could feel how quick he was breathin’. I could feel his heart poundin’. I could smell some kind of stuff on him, like Brut or Old Spice mixed in with his own sweat -- the kind of sweat that still smells clean, still smells alive. An’ I owned him, right then. He was mine, pure an’ simple. Completely mine.
“Oh, Jesus, Christ,” he muttered, “please -- please don’t hurt me.”
“We won’t,” I said.
Then Wayne turned onto his street an’ slowed down, even more, an’ turned down an alley. He pulled up to his back gate an’ stopped. The shed’s door was right beside it. Lenny was there, waitin’.
I could still hear Shayes whisperin’, “Please, really, you don’t want to do this. I’m not like that. It won’t be any good. Please, just let me go. I -- I won’t do anything to you. Please.”
Then Wayne yanked open the side door an’ it slid to a loud stop. Shayes gulped an’ started heavin’. Wayne noticed.
“Sit him up,” he said. “Head between his legs. We don’t want him puking into the gag; he might choke.” I did what he said, then Wayne climbed in an’ put an arm on Shayes’ back an’ whispered, “Hold on. Get back in control. Breathe deep. Don’t talk. Don’t even try. If you do, you’ll vomit.”
Shayes tried real hard to get back in control...but he wasn’t havin’ much luck. So Wayne pulled out a bandana an’ wrapped it around Shayes’ neck, then he undid the gag.
“Coke,” was all Wayne said. A second later, Lenny had a can of it an’ was offerin’ it to him. Wayne took it, pulled Shayes back by the bandana an’ forced some of it down his throat. The guy choked an’ coughed, but he stopped heavin’. “Better?”
After a second, Shayes nodded. Then Wayne coiled the bandana tighter an’ said, “Don’t even try to call for help. Understand?” Shayes nodded, again.
That little action made me positive Wayne was lyin’ ‘bout not doin’ this, before. Maybe he hadn’t with a guy like Shayes, maybe it was just that college kid or with some punk he picked up in a bar or off Santa Monica or even paid to let him do it, but he’d done this, before. I mean, I could palm all the other crap -- the careful plannin’, the wild imagination, the way he wanted the string him up -- all of it on just bein’ caught up in the idea of it. Even after his story, I couldn’t have said for positive he was lyin’ to me. But knowin’ how to keep this guy from lettin’ hurl an’ doin’ it without much of a thought -- he’s had practice. What’s weird is, that calmed me down. An’ it made me even more careful when I was around him.
He kept hold of the bandana as I picked Shayes up to carry him out. The cop struggled a little -- not much -- but I still felt strong carryin’ him into the shed. He’s not exactly a little guy, an’ holdin’ him like you do a bride -- I even felt...oh, I dunno, just plain powerful. It was all good. From the shape of his legs to how smooth an’ healthy his skin felt to even the hair on his calves ticklin’ the hair on my arm -- it was all just right. An’ havin’ the side of his butt pressin’ just above my crotch, it got me close to shootin’ in my briefs.
Shit, y’know, I -- I could tell this was gonna be too fuckin’ good. It was gonna be like that first kid an’ that guard at Mid-State, Carter. An’ I -- I knew I shouldn’t be feelin’ like that. I mean, I’m straight; I really am. I love pussy an’ need the feel of a chick in my bed, at night. An’ I knew, even then, I knew I was headin’ over the edge. I knew I should’ve stopped myself, right then. But I -- I -- I couldn’t; swear to God, I couldn’t. It was like I was addicted to some kind of drug an’ all I could think about was my next fix. Like some low-life junkie piece of shit an’ that ain’t me. That ain’t me. But even as I was thinkin’ all this, I was still carryin’ him into that shed. An’ I -- I couldn’t stop. ‘Cause deep down -- way deep where you never even think to go -- I needed to own him. An’ I couldn’t do that till I owned him whole.
You couldn’t have convinced me of this at the time, but now I can see that I was completely, totally an’ absolutely out of control. I was workin’ like off auto-pilot or like I was some fuckin’ puppet bein’ carried around by invisible strings attached to its own brain. An’ that brain wasn’t at all interested in anything normal or human or acceptable, anymore. It just wanted to be fed some ice cold revenge an’ it’d keep yankin’ at me till it got what it wanted.
An’ that made me one scary motherfucker.
Even to myself.
Chapter Six
This was the first time I’d been in Wayne’s shed. Shit, it was the first time I was really in his back yard. When he’d been talkin’ ‘bout makin’ the shed over, he only showed it to me through the slidin’ glass doors that lead to a two foot wide patio an’ two inch patch of grass between the condo an’ the fence. I think it used to be a garage, since it was big enough for two small cars. There were two windows an’ one door, all inside the fence. The wall facin’ the alley was solid an’ covered with ivy, an’ it crouched in a corner of the yard as if it was leanin’ against the fence an’ just darin’ you to make it leave. It looked nice an’ plain an’ simple, almost homey, not like a prison. But hey, that’s what it was gonna be.
The gate swung to the right an’ the door was there on its left, already ajar. Lenny kept the gate open as Wayne guided me in, usin’ the bandana to keep control of Shayes, then we slipped into the shed an’ Lenny closed the gate an’ joined us inside.
I dunno what I expected, exactly, when Wayne told me ‘bout what he was gonna do to the place -- but what I saw stopped me, cold. First I saw the bed -- a big unfinished-wood four-poster jammed against a wall, its mattress covered with a ratty fitted sheet, nothing else. Handcuffs were connected to each corner post an’ laid out nice an’ neat, waitin’ to be clamped onto Shayes’ wrists an’ ankles. An’ two leather restraints were fastened to a thick dowel that ran between the head posts, to keep his hands above his head some of the time. It made me stop an’ blink at how harsh it looked.
Then I noticed a heavy steel cable hangin’ in the middle of the room. It had a ring on one end that wasn’t completely closed, an’ it slipped through a couple of hooks in the ceilin’ then connected to a sort of pulley bolted to the floor in a corner opposite the bed, so you could raise or lower how high it was. Beside that was a solid wooden chair, an’ next to that was a four-foot tall metal sawhorse padded with leather. An’ then coils of rope on the floor. An’ then some rolled up foam rubber pallets. All nice an’ neat.
The walls were covered with all kinds of misshapen bits of foam in all sorts of colors -- gray, yellow, pink, white, you name it -- even over the windows. They covered the ceilin’, too. Both Wayne’s an’ Lenny’s cameras were already set up on tripods -- one on a short platform, the other in a nearby corner -- an’ the lights were bright. I think the
only reason the place wasn’t like an oven was ‘cause an air conditioner fitted in the wall was goin’ full blast.
Now all of this was sort of expected -- I’d seen the bondage rags Wayne creamed over; seen his diagrams an’ sketches -- but that freak must’ve thought I was a complete an’ total blind idiot or somethin’. ‘Cause I could tell the second I saw the set-up that none of it was new. Not one fuckin’ thing in that room. The bedposts were dull an’ worn where the handcuffs had rubbed against them. The ring on the chain was scratched. The metal post was dinged in a couple places. The chrome on the legs of the sawhorse was scraped. The wooden floor was scuffed from the chair bein’ dragged over it, an’ the chair’s stain an’ polish were faded an’ chipped. They’d used this room before, an’ not just once or twice.
Suddenly I was feelin’ really -- weird. Like I had tiny little sugar ants crawlin’ up an’ down my arms an’ legs an’ over my body. Something about that room was wrong -- way too fuckin’ wrong -- an’ I just wanted to get the fuck out, but I couldn’t move.
Wayne noticed me hesitatin’ so he pointed to the bed. “Toss him there an’ leave him. I want to savor this moment.”
I looked at him. Then looked at the bed. Then remembered I was carryin’ Shayes an’ while he wasn’t strugglin’, he wasn’t exactly what you’d call a lightweight, either. I wandered over to the bed an’ let him drop onto it. He bounced onto his stomach an’ started to roll around -- tryin’ to get comfortable, I guess, since he knew he wasn’t goin’ nowhere. I watched him, for a second. Watched him realize he was on a bed an’ understand what was gonna happen. What was really gonna happen. An’...an’ I gotta hand it to the guy -- he didn’t give up. He scooted ‘round to sit up an’ try to see through the blindfold, an’ he started yammerin’, fast an’ breathless, “Listen, listen, you don’t understand. I’m a cop. I keep a tight, steady schedule. People’re going to be looking for me, soon. Someone may’ve seen your van and they’ll tell the police and it’ll be ten times worse for you if you’ve hurt me in any way, if you’ve done anything to me. So, let me go, please. Be smart about it. I’ll walk away. No harm, no foul. Okay? Okay?”
Wayne just snickered, an’ that’s when it washed over me like cold ocean water. This whole set-up, this whole plan, this whole room -- revenge against a cop had nothin’ to do with it. Neither did loneliness or the world’s hypocrisy or his own sense of injustice. An’ gettin’ a homophobe like Shayes to enjoy what he said he hated -- that was all a lie. This...all of this...it was just another fuck to Wayne an’ Lenny. It was just sex.
How the fuck could I have missed that? Was I that fuckin’ blinded by my own need for revenge? Was I that closed off to the idea that maybe I was bein’ used to get a couple of perverts a guy they could never get on their own? Was I that fuckin’ stupid?
I looked at Wayne like I’d never seen him before. He was standin’ to one side of the bed, watchin’ Shayes move around an’ chatter the same crap, over an’ over. An’ he was rubbin’ his own chest an’ crotch. An’ boner; it was really showin’ in his pants. Lenny was standin’ on the other side, almost lickin’ his lips. There wasn’t any hate or hurt or fear or confusion in their eyes, now; all that was there was just plain lust.
So that’s all it was. Those fuckers were usin’ me -- no, usin’ my anger to help ‘em get their rocks off, that’s all. Not a damn thing more. I started to breathe almost as fast as Shayes, an’ I almost felt sorry for him.
Oh, man, I had to get out of that room.
I tried to back to the door, nice an’ slow, but Wayne noticed an’ came over to me, askin’, “What’s wrong?”
I almost froze...then I muttered, “I -- I need a beer. Or some fresh air. I guess.”
Wayne looked at me. “You’re not backing out? Not now.”
“No, man,” I whispered, barely able to talk. “It’s just this -- this room; it’s freaking me out. No windows. One door. Those cameras.”
“Does it remind you of prison?” I’d swear there was a gleam in his eye when he asked me that. “I understand. There’s a cooler on the patio with some ice cold Beck’s in it, just for you. Why don’t you have one. Or two? Have a smoke. Relax. We’ll get things ready for you.”
I nodded, just wantin’ out. Just wantin’ away from Wayne’s voice. From Shayes’ non-stop beggin’. I backed to the door, opened it behind me an’ slipped outside. As I closed the door, I saw Wayne’d turned back to the bed, an’ he told Shayes, “Don’t waste your voice, gorgeous. You’re ours, now.”
I stumbled over to the patio, tryin’ to calm my brain down. Hell, just calm my breathin’. I found the cooler an’ popped a Beck’s an’ downed it in one gulp. Didn’t even notice it. I grabbed another one an’ had half that into my belly before I took a breath. Then I leaned against this post an’ tried to sort things out. Tried to stop shakin’.
You see -- an’ this ain’t no time for lies -- I...I really honestly wanted to fuck Shayes. Way down deep, I wanted it. An’ yeah, one reason I was doin’ it was to get even for all the crap in my life. To do some damage, but that wasn’t all there is to it. I -- I’d gotten to where I liked the feel of my dick up a guy’s ass. Liked the way his balls’d rub against my pubes. Liked bein’ able to get him off, especially when he didn’t want to. An’ I looked at guys different because of it. When Shayes left, that night, I remember noticin’ how nice his ass was.
Yeah, I told myself it’s cause I wanted to fuck him up, but there really was more to it than that. Same for that stud outside the “A” Club. Yeah, I wanted to hurt ‘em but I...I wanted to hold ‘em, too. I wanted ‘em to be mine. Couple of good-lookin’ guys, both of ‘em. An’ that made me happier to be after ‘em. Wantin’ ‘em. Needin’ ‘em. If that makes any sense. An’ that fuckin’ room. An’ it bein’ all set up to let me do whatever I fuckin’ wanted. An’ it bein’ so fuckin’ obvious it was just there for sex. It made me see what I was doin’ -- part of what I wanted to do -- was just be with ‘em. No matter what. An’ I didn’t care how much it was gonna fuck the guy up. ‘Cause mingled in with all of this was just how much I liked holdin’ a guy, even when I’m rapin’ him. An’ that’s fuckin’ nuts! What the fuck was wrong with me?! I...I...I’m straight! I’m fuckin’ straight!
Ain’t I?
Shit, before motherfuckin’ Paco an’ his boys did me in County, I’d only been with girls. Only liked girls. Only wanted girls. Never even thought about bein’ with a guy. I loved -- love the way girls move an’ smell an’ fit my hands an’ mold into my body. I loved -- love slippin’ my dick into their pussy an’ suckin’ their tits an’ screwin’ till dawn. Me an’ Connie, we could’ve wrote the book about sex between a man an’ woman. Hell, sometimes I could get off just lookin’ at a chick if she was pretty. Like Connie. But since Mid-State...
Man, I gotta admit, after six years there -- I got to where I was just as happy with one of my punks. An’ yeah, I know, I know -- I was makin’ ‘em do things with me. But they still felt right. It all felt right. It felt just as real as with a girl. So does that make me a fag? Did Paco -- hell, did fuckin’ Mid-State turn me queer?
No. No, c’mon, Curt. There was that first time, remember? The first time you fucked a guy? You didn’t get off on it. I mean, you got off, but you didn’t get off. If that makes any sense.
Yeah. Yeah, it does. ‘Cause when it happened, it wasn’t somethin’ I’d exactly planned on. I’d been workin’ in the laundry six months when a couple brothers grabbed this fresh meat -- not even a kid; a guy in his thirties sent up for embezzlement, I think, but he was white an’ the brothers love to nail white guys. They dragged him behind the machines an’ this one buck -- Shamar? -- saw me saw ‘em doin’ it. He told me if I kept quiet, I could have a turn.
I was still livin’ off my right hand, at that time, so I wasn’t all that up for it. So I just said, “It’s all between you guys.”
Shamar smirked an’ said, “C’mon, Curt, ain’t ya even gonna try it out? I mean, shit, in here it don’
t mean shit.”
“‘Cept to the guy who’s bein’ punked.”
“He’s ain’t no guy, now; he’s what you call a commodity.”
That hit me as funny. I laughed an’ said, “You think if I go back there an’ get distracted, you can make me a commodity, too?”
“Shit, man,” he snarled in a nothin’ way, “if I did that, I’d have to kill ya. An’ you’re white, so it’d be the needle for me, but if I didn’t kill ya, I’d have to watch my back the rest of my time in. I seen how you work, how quick you caught on to this place. It’s like you was born to it, man, so you’ll catch ont’ this, soon enough.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’, man. You don’t wanna do it, now, that’s cool. They’s waitin’ for me.”
He started behind the machines but I stopped him. My last couple of yank sessions hadn’t been all that satisfyin’, I had to admit, an’ now he had my curiosity up.
“Wait, wait...you tellin’ me it really helps. Gettin’ off like that?”
“Why you think we doin’ it?”
“Fuck whitey the only way you can.”
His eyes got cold. I got ready for him, just in case. But then he thought about it an’ laughed.
“Curt, you got too much fuckin’ mouth on you.”
“Man, you sound like my mom bitchin’ at me.”
He laughed even harder then motioned for me to join him.
“C’mon, bro’, why don’t you try it out? No other way t’ know if it’s gonna help or not. An’ tell you what -- I’ll even let you pop his cherry.”
How To Rape A Straight Guy Page 11