by J. M. Dabney
In those hours I observed him through the camera I had placed, I realized that I couldn't do away with him. I didn't understand when killing him was marked off as an option. In order to keep him, I needed to break him. I needed to make sure that he learned his only reason for living would be by making me happy.
Yet, I also found myself growing attached to him. I thought about him as I performed my daily tasks at work or simply when I laid in bed at night before I forced my body to rest. I hadn't slept more than a few hours a night in my life. At one point, I'd imagined all the scenarios I’d found intriguing when I moved him upstairs and had him sleeping beside my bed.
I also worried about how I would deal with another human in my space. I barely tolerated my own company. I rarely spoke for the fact that the tone annoyed me.
Thinking of him was dangerous and a distraction I didn't need. I could study the oddness of my reactions to him later. I stretched out in the high grass on my stomach.
I set up on a deserted road that ran along the back of my mark's home. The LED display of my watch flashed the time when I pressed a button on the side. It was almost one a.m., and my mark was having drinks with a scantily clad woman. I imagined the conversation going on between the two. The man's hand was tucked between the woman's thin thighs, and from her expression, she wasn't unwilling to receive his attentions.
My mark set his drink aside, and he dropped to his knees between her spread legs. His hands pushed up the cups of her bikini top to expose firm breasts, and she threw her head back as the man squeezed them. She threw her legs over his shoulders as he ate her pussy. I grew bored with the display.
Sex was a biological imperative to continue the human race. It was a desire some humans had to form a connection with another being on a physical level. As I’d never experienced pleasure during my limited experiments, I saw the act as completely unnecessary.
It would be easy enough to take him out as his female companion occupied him, but I had only received payment for the one kill. Unless she posed an inconvenience, I couldn't justify her elimination. I'd parked my vehicle a mile away and laid in the shrubbery that lined the abandoned road. When I'd staked it out a few days before, I hadn't noticed any fresh tracks in the dirt.
A high-pitched squeal moved along the breeze as my mark's companion reached orgasm. I rolled my eyes as the man pushed his swimming trunks over his ass and I stared down my scope. His head was beside hers. I slowly inhaled, and as I exhaled, I squeezed the trigger. Through the scope I watched my mark's head explode. Brain matter covered her face as the silent, horrified expression turned into a scream.
I calmly stood and slung my rifle over my shoulder. I would melt down the weapon as soon as I returned home. Not only did the furnace do away with the bodies I was contracted to dispose of, but it also served well to destroy other evidence. I made the leisurely hike back to my vehicle, stowed my weapon in the trunk, and got in the driver's seat. I turned on the scanner to monitor police channels.
The reciting of a familiar address made me pay closer attention. It wasn’t for the location of the man I'd just killed, but Harrison's. Suspicious disappearance. A nine-one-one call was made for mail piling up. There was no mention of foul play. That was a complication I didn't need, but one that I'd seen coming. Sooner or later, I figured something would bring his disappearance to the attention of the cops.
I direct deposited Harrison's last paycheck for a full week, doctoring my payroll software that he'd clocked in and out on Monday and Tuesday. That would have him missing for only a few days without being accounted for. I'd driven by his house and didn't see his mail piling up.
The trip home didn't take long as my mark lived on the edge of the city. I made quick work of placing my rifle and my clothes in the furnace. I stoked the embers with an iron bar until the remnants of wood caught, then I placed fresh wood on top. It didn't take long for the seasoned wood to ignite. I strode barefoot across the yard and entered the house. I'd left long after I'd fed Harrison. Entering my office, I slipped behind my desk and sat naked in my leather chair. When I woke my computer, the cameras were the first thing I saw.
He was curled up in the middle of his mattress. I noticed that it was slowly losing air and I would need to take care of that tomorrow after I returned from work. I already anticipated a visit from the police as my office was Harrison's last known place of employment.
I felt none of the concern I probably should have when it came to a visit from law enforcement. I worked with them on quite a few occasions, mostly questioning them on the stand as I defended my clients, but we had a good rapport. I learned that if you treated someone with respect, you were more likely to be thought of with less suspicion. I'd made it almost forty years without a criminal record. Even in my teens, I was above reproach. They hadn't even investigated my parents’ death, and after the age of sixteen, I hadn't repeated my therapy experience. Any tapes and transcripts had ended up burned right along with the doctor's body.
If I knew nothing in life, I knew how to dispose of evidence.
The shifting of Harrison's form made me focus and zoom in the camera a bit more. His blanket shifted and rested low across his hips. I traced the curve of his belly with my gaze. I pulled the memory of him bare in front of me as he bathed and wrapped my hand around my semi-erection. Stroking the length, I assumed men would be ashamed of the fact their dicks wouldn't get hard, but my flaccid length was just a way of life.
Maybe my impotence was about my inability to connect to another person on a human level. My emotional detachment the reason I couldn't sustain an erection long enough to enjoy the act. The inflicting of pain was the only sensation that even made my body respond, but the moment I was done with the punishment, it was nothing.
I released my cock and got up to head to the kitchen for a glass of water before bed. I needed to continue Harrison's lessons. I couldn't allow his comfort to grow until he was unafraid of the death that I'd promised him. Yes, I was no longer killing him, but that didn't mean he needed to know about it. After I got the cops to move in a different direction, I would double my efforts.
I made a list of new purchases I’d need to make in order to move forward. I paused in front of the basement door as I downed the glass of ice-cold water. After I slept and took care of my work day, I had a weekend to keep him on edge. Pain and pleasure, I needed him to be unsure of what came next. Reward or punishment, or could they be one and the same?
I felt invigorated by my new plan and how pretty my boy would be when he finally broke.
Chapter Ten
Harrison
He'd awakened me by flipping me off my mattress. I'd blinked my sleep-blurred eyes as I had tried to figure out what was going on, and then I’d realized he’d exposed the snacks I'd hidden beneath my uncomfortable bed. It had steadily lost air over the last few days until I’d sunk to the hard floor. When I realized he was taking in the contraband, I'd thrown my blanket over them. His mouth had hardened, and he'd grunted as he filled my bed. Without another word, he'd tossed it at me and motioned to my daily allotment of food that would last me until he returned.
I was concerned by the fact he hadn’t spoken to me. He used his words sparingly. No more than just orders. I’d only decided the day before to make myself useful. While I feared what he planned for me, his silence made it worse. Would he have inflated my bed if today was the day? He did appear the type to be nice before he slit my throat.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize he was gone until I heard the basement door slam upstairs. I stared at the ceiling following his sure, even steps. Once I was positive that he was gone, I straightened my space up and stood to go to the bathroom. I still didn't like the shadows or the oppressive darkness of the tiny room.
I'd found a routine in my new reality. Bathroom, cleaning with the ice-cold water and then having my breakfast. I made sure to add the wrapped snack to the growing pile. I didn't know if I'd need them now that I feared he was ready to get rid of me. Maybe
he was readying the space for his next captive.
I slowly ate my breakfast, today he served me waffles and not those frozen ones either. I enjoyed my food, but there was a new addition to the tray. A box with a note that read don't open until ordered.
He seemed too calm to have never attempted this before. I shifted to lie down on the mattress and stared up at the wood beams. The cock cage irritated my balls, and I grew tired of it. It wasn't as if I had felt a normal arousal since he'd locked me in here, but I didn't like the punishment. But wasn't that the point? He wanted to make sure I obeyed.
I hated feeling as if I was an unruly child. I didn't like being made to bathe in front of him. I still shifted uncomfortably remembering him watching me play with my ass. No one had ever witnessed me doing anything of the sort. I was always the chunky, unpopular boy, and while I'd kissed—did all the usual make out stuff—I'd never been to bed with a man.
When I imagined my first time, I'd never pictured I'd be locked in a basement/cellar and forced to expose myself to a man who didn't even seem to respond to the things he did to me. Wasn't that one of the first things I'd assumed when I'd awakened here? Terrified of being forced into sex, raped at a stranger's whim. I tugged the blanket higher on my chest to keep out the chill.
“Remove the blanket.”
I jumped and pressed my back to the wall as an echoing voice came from the darkness. I'd heard him leave. The door had slammed.
How did I not realize that he watched me? He left for long stretches of time as if going to a regular job. He did mention that if I tried to escape, he'd know. I could've tried to escape a dozen times by now. Why hadn't I?
“Pick up the box. Stretch out on your back without the blanket.”
I did as he asked only because I had a feeling my next punishment would be worse. I lay there hating the feeling of being exposed.
“Open the box.”
He didn't waste his words, and I wondered if I'd met him before. The mask and the short sentences spoken in a low voice—almost a whisper. I swallowed around the lump in my throat as I opened the box and everything in me stopped. A massive dildo rested in the box beside a bottle of lube. I didn't care how much lube I used…this was going to hurt. It was twice that of my own toys.
“Fuck yourself—now.”
I opened my mouth to argue as I stared at it and I thought he couldn't humiliate me more than he had when he'd watched me clean myself. My cock couldn't harden in the cage that trapped it. I could pretend I was alone in my bed and play out my favorite fantasy.
I flipped the top of the lube, slicked my fingers and closed my eyes. I made myself comfortable and brought my legs to my chest; the shackles around my ankles making it awkward. I reached past the curve of my belly and smoothed the slick around my hairy hole. With my free hand, I cupped my nuts and lifted them. At the slow thrust of one finger inside my hole, I mentally played out my recent favorite.
Cowen came up behind me in the office, and he placed his forehead between my shoulder blades. I loved that the smaller man liked my bigger body. A moan slipped past my lips, and I bit my lip before another one could escape. I pictured I moved my hands to take his hips. He never made me feel clumsy and unattractive, and he wouldn't assume I was a top because of my size. Just as I readied myself for my toys, I added another finger.
I ignored that my captor watched me on camera, but I couldn't ignore the discomfort as my dick started to harden inside the restrictive metal. Stopping wasn't an option. I knew what he'd do to me when he got home. I didn't carry fond memories of his whip licking over my back and backside.
“On your hands and knees with your ass to the entry.”
I cursed as his brusque voice intruded, but again I did as he asked.
“Enough playing, slick your new toy and fuck yourself.”
I wanted to protest and tell him I wasn't ready, but he didn't care. He wanted to humiliate me, and I wondered if he more than watched me—did he film me? Would there be evidence long after I left this basement? Would it matter if I was dead? Maybe that was the game? He imprisoned me for others to pay to watch him humiliate me—abuse me.
I kept swallowing as nausea built from the nerves anticipating the pain. I straightened only long enough to slick the long, thick dildo, it had to be ten inches, and my thumb and forefinger didn't meet. The lube I used was excessive, but I was relieved that he allowed me even that small amount of comfort. Awkwardly I held the base, my hand and the toy almost too slick for me to hold.
My teeth ground together at the intense burn and pain, whatever hard-on I'd had disappeared in that flash of pain. I whimpered in agony as the fat head popped past my rim. Sweat beaded my skin, thighs shaking as my body rejected the intrusion and the head slipped back out. I screamed, and my back arched as I forced it a few inches inside. I was panting and dripping sweat, as I shallowly fucked myself, trying to take another inch with each push.
I was in agony as the base met my ass. I was stretched so tight I couldn't even think about moving it. My body needed time to adjust, but I was sure my captor's patience was nearing an end. He'd bark his next order at any time. I was afraid to move a fraction of an inch.
“Must I repeat myself, your slowness has earned you ten lashes, would you care to add?”
“N-no.”
“Do it. You're so pretty when you whimper.”
My captor's voice softened just as it had the first night that he’d whipped me. Almost caring, as if what he was doing to me was normal. And who was I to say that I wasn’t just one in a long line of captives.
I lost myself in my thoughts as I did what he ordered. My involuntary whines grew louder as I realized no amount of lube would make this comfortable. A twinge built in my shoulder and back at the odd angle and I tried to shift to make it easier, but nothing I did helped. I fucked myself as hard as possible figuring he'd grow bored sooner rather than later, then something terrible happened. The constant slide of the veined length over my gland started to loosen my hole, and my cock started to harden painfully inside its restraint.
I was horrified by the reaction of my body at the unwanted pleasure and the harder my dick became, the more the metal pinched. I couldn't come without stimulation, but I worked the dildo just so it constantly hit my gland. No longer was I whimpering and an image of me as if I was outside my body formed. Cowen's slender body was behind me. I was no longer filled with something fake—an instrument of my humiliation—it was Cowen taking me. Long powerful strokes, I swore I could almost hear the sounds of his grunts and the way his hips met my ass.
He was whispering to me. Dirty things. Telling me how much he loved my ass. It was his cock and his voice—my captor was no longer observing me as he would a rat trapped in a maze.
“That's enough.”
The anger in the voice took me by surprise, and I froze with the dildo buried deep. My captor never spoke in anything other than a smooth, calm voice, but sometimes it contained a sharpness as it did when he whipped and spanked me. Although, never something that sounded on the verge of rage.
“Good boy. For doing as I asked, I will spare you punishment.”
I waited long minutes on my knees, braced on one hand as I waited for another order, but it never came. Hard-on long gone and I winced as I started to remove the toy, thankful for the relief.
“No, you will sit on your bed with the toy in until I tell you otherwise.”
I played his words over in my head. He wanted me to keep the thing in me. I was sore and raw from the size and insufficient slick. I started to remove it again.
“Do you like the lick of my whip?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Do as I say. I will be watching, boy. I know every move you make.”
I spun and sat down too quickly, and a twinge went through my stomach as the toy went in deeper. I hadn't cried nearly as much as I thought I should, but at that moment, I felt the tremble of my lower lip. A thought struck me, and I was terrified by it, would death be so bad?
>
Chapter Eleven
Cowen
“When is the last time you saw Mr. Clapton, Mr. Kingsley,” The infuriating man asked for a second time since he entered my office. As if he was going to make me slip up on my story.
The big, barrel-chested detective jotted notes in a small notebook, then started watching me from under his bushy brows. He was almost the cliché of a grizzled detective. They'd shown up just as I knew they would. I had just ordered my boy to keep his new toy buried in his ass, and I planned for him to keep it there until I removed it. Having my scene with my boy interrupted had made me less affable to his presence. The detective was ruining my plans for the evening. If there was one thing I hated more than anything it was a disruption to my routine.
It had already taken several days to adjust to taking care of my guest permanently. If Harrison was at my mercy or not, I wasn't willing for him to die due to my neglect.
I concealed my deep breath and tried to control my irritation. “He left my office at five as always. I'm a stickler for my schedule, Tuesday, three weeks ago.”
“Why didn't you report him missing?”
Even if I wasn't currently aware of where Harrison was, it would never have occurred to me to notify authorities over a person not showing up.
“He's my employee…why would I be concerned?”
“He's worked for you for”—he flipped through pages, and I was annoyed he'd forgotten a detail—”three years. Has he missed a day in that time?”
“He's taken the usual sick days which he was upset when I thoroughly rebuked him for his insubordination.”
I felt the odd, uncomfortable pull in my cheeks as I attempted a smile. From his expression, the man didn't like me, and while I didn't care, I'd prefer if I didn't have to spend further time in his company.