Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica)

by Ty Marton

  BREAKDOWN MOTEL

  PART 2

  BY

  TY MARTON

  AND

  RYNNA CRESS

  COPYRIGHT 2012, TY MARTON, RYNNA CRESS, AND APC PUBLISHING

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  AUTHOR’S DISCLAIMER

  This is an adult story focused on themes of bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism between adult men OVER THE AGE OF 18. Subject matter includes explicit sexual activity and increasingly intense BDSM scenes (captivity, dubious consent, fisting, watersports, electro-torture, enemas etc.), and is intended purely as fantasy for mature readers. If such material offends you, or if it is illegal to own or read such material in the area where you live, then you should stop reading now.

  Otherwise… enjoy…

  -TM & RC

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  In just six years serving with the Haciera County Sheriff’s Department, Jeff Kenton had already made his fair share of drug arrests. But Derek Hestrix took the cake.

  It had started off as a routine traffic stop out on Highway 54, deep in the New Mexico flatlands, where the dry brush seemed to stretch on endlessly past the distant horizon. It was the verifiable middle of nowhere – the kind of place you rarely expected to see anybody, let alone a cop. But, just as he did every day he pulled the dreaded desert patrol, Jeff was dutifully making his way up and down the dusty highway between Reynoldsburg and Beso Canyon, half bored out of his mind – that is, until a shining red pickup truck came zooming down the road, blowing right past him at God only knows how fast. After making a quick U-turn and throwing his siren on, it was only a matter of moments before the young officer had the truck pulled over. Noting the truck’s vanity license plate – “SRPRISE” – Jeff stepped out and approached the driver.

  “License and registration, please.”

  It was safe to say the busty blonde behind the wheel was not who he’d been expecting, but he’d learned never to assume anything on the job. She smiled at him, playful and careless, large white teeth glowing behind glossy cherry bomb red lipstick.

  “Aw, do I have to? The picture is three years old – hardly does me any justice…”

  She chuckled to herself, her eyes lazily bobbing from side to side, unable to focus on any one point in space.

  Jeff arched an eyebrow behind his aviator sunglasses, clocking her wooziness. “License and registration please, ma’am,” he repeated. “Now.”

  The authoritative tone didn’t seem to have much effect on the woman. She merely cocked her head at him, smiling flirtatiously.

  “Take those sunglasses off, sugar,” she said, her words slurring. “Lemme see your face. I bet you’re a cute one…”

  Jeff took a heavy breath, shaking his head. He never liked seeing people who were clearly intoxicated. Some of the other guys found it amusing, and would proudly trade war stories about the most ridiculous drunks they had ever encountered. Some of them would have even been thrilled to come across a flirty, doll-faced floozy desperate to charm her way out of a ticket. But not Jeff. Growing up with a useless drunk for a mother and a father who couldn’t stay out of prison, Jeff had developed no such fondness for inebriation.

  “I’m gonna need you to go ahead and step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” he said, taking a step back, keeping his eyes on the woman. Her face was a classic one – the universal ‘oh shit’ moment that brings every mindlessly happy drunk back down to earth. Jeff could see fear begin dawning across her face. She was in trouble, and suddenly, she realized it.

  “Look officer,” she said, clearly struggling to sound sober as she stepped out of the car. “Was I really going that fast? Can’t we work something out?”

  Her hand inched its way forward, her fingertips grazing the front of Jeff’s crotch. He batted it away, maddening memories of his mother easily outweighing the temptation of a sleazy quickie in the hot desert.

  “Watch it,” he snarled. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

  The woman snorted, blowing her bangs up out of her face and moving her hand back in for a second attempt. “What are you, queer or something?”

  With animal-like reflexes, Jeff snatched her wrist, quickly pinning her against the side of the truck and cuffing her hands behind her back. She gave a quick cry of surprise, followed by a defeated whimper.

  “There,” he said, satisfied. “You’re under arrest. Now shut up and stay still.”

  His attention turned to the interior of the truck. He could feel the woman nervously watching him as he searched the cabin, and he heard her groan in despair as he checked under the passenger’s seat.

  Pills - a large-sized plastic bag full of them.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, knowing that by sheer volume, the contents of the bag were likely worth more than he made in a year.

  “Quaaludes?” he asked, holding the bag up for her. “Is this what you’re on?”

  The woman had no answer for him, instead choosing to spit on his shoes, the desperate, flirty bimbo routine gone.

  He ignored her insolence and turned back into the cabin, rooting through her purse until he found her wallet. He pulled it out, opening it and removing her ID.

  “I told you,” she growled, “that picture don’t do me justice.”

  Jeff couldn’t disagree. He held the ID up, his eyes darting back and forth from the picture on the card to the face in front of him. The same eyes, the same nose, the same mole on the chin…

  But the picture on the card was of a man.

  “…Derek Hestrix?”

  “Ugh. Call me Trixie,” she sighed at him.

  “Fine. Trixie, you have the right to remain silent…”

  ~*~

  “I ain’t ever been inside a real sheriff’s department before,” Trixie muttered, still deep in her woozy haze. “Neat.”

  “I somehow doubt that,” Jeff said, leading her inside by her elbow.

  There was a befuddled determination about him. After radioing the arrest in to dispatch, Jeff had been fully prepared to take her straight to county lockup for processing. But no, dispatch had told him – Derek Hestrix was to be brought straight to the station, an order that had come directly from Sheriff Fox himself. Something strange was going on, and Jeff, hot off what could potentially be the department’s biggest drug bust of the year, was anxious. An arrest like this was like a big, shiny gold star on your record, the kind of thing that put ambitious young officers onto the DEA radar for a possible transfer. The last thing Jeff wanted was something stopping him from getting this one into the books.

  “This way,” he said, leading her down the hallway to one of the holding rooms. But Trixie wasn’t cooperating. Instead, she slowed to a stop, fixated by something on the wall. She giggled to herself, and Jeff, already on edge, shot irritated daggers at her.

  “Come on. Don’t make me drag you.”

  She ignored him, still giggling. Jeff followed her gaze to the wall, where a bulletin board hung.

  “That one,” Trixie said, darting her finger out against a
flyer, “he’s my favorite, you know.”

  It was a missing persons flyer, where the photo of a handsome, confident young man smiled back at the two of them.

  “Danny Major,” Jeff read aloud, suddenly interested. “Guy disappeared around here almost a year ago. You know something about him?”

  Trixie’s fixation on the flyer suddenly snapped, her eyes darting back to Jeff’s. That same “oh shit” look spread across her face, and she gave a quick, nervous laugh.

  “I mean, he’s just cute, is all. Don’t ya think?”

  Jeff stared right through her, his wheels beginning to turn.

  “Uh-huh,” he said, filing the moment away. “Whatever. Now move it.”

  “You’re so stiff, officer,” Trixie said, obediently shuffling along. “I like it.”

  Jeff brought Trixie to a holding room, re-cuffing her to the table and telling her to sit tight. Someone would be right with her – just as soon as he figured out why the hell she was here.

  He left her and made his way back down the hall, eager for some answers from the sheriff, but then stopped again at the flyer, giving it a second look. Danny Major… the kid practically disappeared into thin air. For a while, the assumption was that he had been taken hostage by one of the drug cartels along the border, but after a fruitless wait for ransom demands that never came, along with a dead-end investigation that went absolutely nowhere, he was presumed dead. The department had never had anything close to a lead, and most figured the case was simply unsolvable...

  The kind of case that gets you noticed if you solve it…

  “Officer Kenton. Just who I was looking for.”

  Jeff turned from the wall to find Sheriff Fox, tall and brawny as they came, staring down at him over his thick reddish-brown mustache.

  “Sheriff,” Jeff said, shaking the man’s hand. “Been looking for you, too.”

  “Good,” Fox said, his eyes stealing a subtle glance at the flyer on the wall. “How about we step into my office for a bit?”

  Fox’s office was small and simple, framed around a tall window behind the desk with low sunlight streaming in through the blinds. The Sheriff took a seat, the end of the day’s light striping through across the back of his head.

  “Quite an arrest you made today, Kenton,” he said. “And Quaaludes, too. Haven’t seen many of those surface since back when I was a deputy. Hell of a bust.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Fox took his hat off and placed it on the desk, scratching the top of his perfectly bald head as he spoke. “Unfortunately, this is one fish you’re gonna have to throw back.”

  “Sir?”

  “DEA called me just about ninety seconds after you radioed in the arrest. Apparently, our pill-popping friend Derek and his queen-size bag of candy are involved in some kind of sting operation. The tranny’s a snitch, kid, working with the narcs. Gotta let her go.”

  Jeff slumped into his chair, crest-fallen, but then perked back up, confused.

  “She’s got a rap sheet, you know. All of it here within Haciera County ever since she… or I guess he was a teenager. You’re telling me she’s a drug mule now?”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “For Quaaludes? When have we ever seen anything like that?”

  The Sheriff could only throw his hands up and shrug, rising from his seat. “We haven’t. But it isn’t our problem, kid. Save it for the DEA boys. Point is, we’ve gotta let her go – with her pills, too.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jeff shot back, his temper beginning to crack. “She’s high right now, for Christ’s sake!”

  “Look, I get that you’re pissed,” Fox said, placing a hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But it’s just some shit that we’ve gotta eat, and that’s that. All right?”

  Jeff shook his head, rising from his seat in frustration. “It doesn’t make any goddamned sense.”

  Fox watched calmly as Jeff stormed his way out of the office. “Mind the temper there, officer,” he said, the door slamming shut on the sentiment. Fox could only chuckle. Jeff was a good young cop, and he couldn’t blame him for being upset, even if he didn’t always care for the hot-headed attitude.

  He sighed to himself, sitting back down at his desk, weary. It had been an unexpectedly busy day, and it wasn’t over yet. He lifted the phone, dialing a number from memory and bringing the receiver to his ear. After a few rings, someone answered with a quick, “Yes?”

  “It’s taken care of,” Fox said. “They’re releasing her now; she’ll be there in an hour. And Mason? You owe me for this.”

  Fox set the receiver down, ending the call. Smoothing out his mustache, he placed his hat back on his head, then stood up, grabbed his jacket, and left the office.

  As he made his way down the hallway and out of the building, he failed to notice that Danny Major’s missing persons flyer was noticeably absent from the bulletin board where it had hung just minutes before.

  ~*~

  SRPRISE.

  Jeff, fresh off of his shift, sat in his Mustang, Danny’s missing persons photo smiling up at him from the passenger’s seat. Parked just outside the impound lot’s main gate, he stared at the pickup truck sitting on the other side of the chain-link fence.

  What kind of drug mule has vanity plates?

  None of it added up, and Jeff was determined to figure out why, to figure out what was really going on here. Uncharacteristically antsy, he reached into his glove compartment, pulling out a worn, crumpled pack of cigarettes and bringing one to his lips, quickly lighting up and ashing out the cracked window. He’d been camped out for over a half an hour. Typically, at this point in the evening after finishing a day shift, he’d be nursing a beer at home, or maybe lifting weights at the gym. But not tonight.

  He glanced over at Danny’s photo from the flyer, replaying Trixie’s reaction to it over and over in his head. Even with the fog of the drugs hanging over her, it had captured her attention in a moment of unmistakable recognition. This wasn’t just some random face to her, this was someone she knew. Jeff felt certain of it.

  The back doors from the station opened, and sure enough, out came Trixie, escorted by a patrol officer. Jeff tensed up at the long-awaited sight, quickly flinging his half-smoked cigarette out the window, then slinking down low in his seat. Cautious not to be seen, he watched as the officer led Trixie to her truck, opened the door for her, then waved the gate open for her after she had climbed in. Incredulous, he couldn’t help but shake his head as she pulled out of the lot – a drugged up tranny caught with an immense stash of illegal pills, in and out of police custody in just over an hour.

  Jeff waited until she was a few blocks ahead, then turned the ignition and pulled the car into gear, a resolute look of determination chiseled into his face. One way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of this, and it all started with finding out where Trixie was headed. Carefully staying at least a few car lengths behind her at all times, Jeff followed her as she drove out of the city limits, back towards the desert highways where he had first picked her up. The sun had just finished setting, leaving the sky a brilliant mixture of grayish orange in the west and navy blue in the east. By the time the truck finally came to a stop, pulling into a lot out in the middle of nowhere, it was completely dark out.

  “Motel X,” Jeff muttered to himself, pulling over to the side of the road and scoping the place out through a set of binoculars. If he wanted to get any closer without being detected, it would have to be on foot...

  He had never been out this way, and had never heard of Motel X before, even though it was technically within his department’s jurisdiction, sitting out in the middle of no man’s land. There couldn’t be that many motorists coming through here, he wondered, could there? No way could a motel stay in business just off the occasional stray traveler…

  Stepping lightly, he drew near to the entrance of the motel’s property, quickly crouching behind a boulder and pulling his binoculars bac
k out. The only soul in sight was a lanky looking man with glasses and a trucker hat sitting at the front desk of the lobby. Through the window, Jeff could see him eating popcorn and chuckling at something on the TV. Aside from him, there was nobody – no Trixie, no DEA, no pickup truck…

  But there was a camera. Jeff spotted it up a nearby telephone poll, keeping watch over the front lot. Scanning the premises, Jeff found another on top of the roof, and another by the front door… and another… and another…

  Jesus, he thought to himself. What the hell were they protecting here?

  Finally, he decided to risk it, and make his way onto the property. He hopped a fence by the far side of the building, hoping he could catch a blind spot between all the cameras. Hurried low, he crept across the empty parking lot until he was flat against the building, out of sight of any of the cameras he had made note of.

  A loud snigger cut through the silence. Jeff froze, then slowly bent forward, peeking through the window into the lobby, where the front desk attendant was slapping his leg in laughter at the grainy program he was watching on his tiny television. Looking closer, Jeff could see a small row of monitors hidden behind the desk beside him – security feeds from the cameras out front.

  But what about the back? Jeff pursed his lips, creeping away from the front lobby, gradually making his way around the building. As he rounded the motel’s side, he saw it – Trixie’s red pickup. He was getting closer.

  He found himself at the back of the building, where ten rooms stretched down the length of the motel. “X” marked the first one, followed by “IX”, “VIII”, “VII”, and so on. That explained the motel’s name. But Jeff’s attention wasn’t on the ten rooms – it was on a small, house-like building at the back of the lot, where the lights were on, and faint voices could be heard.