by Loki Renard
“You just fucked Bobby, didn’t you?”
“Yes sir…” the sir came out of nowhere. Mark wished it hadn’t. Angelo’s dark eyes were raking over his face, inspecting his soul with an unsettling thoroughness.
“Did he give you what you wanted, Mark? Did he love you?”
How the hell did Angelo know what Mark wanted?
“No. He hates me.”
“We are not men bound by love,” Angelo explained. “We are men of the shadows. You want something Bobby can never give. Your tenderness makes you weak in our presence. You fuck my boy, but he is the one who claims you, because it is your soul that yearns to touch his. He can’t be taken that way.”
“And you?”
“I know what love is for itself,” Angelo said, cryptically. “I know that love is everywhere. I imagine you think that sounds particularly soft for me?”
“Well, yes.”
“That’s because you don’t really understand it. Truly, I mean everywhere,” Angelo repeated with emphasis. “There is love in pain, death, torture. You want so badly to save my boy, but he is beyond redemption, as am I - and as you soon will be.”
“Not me,” Mark insisted as Angelo reached out and wrapped his hand around Mark’s cock, his touch assured.
“Yes. You. You’re one of us.”
“No.”
Angelo smiled. “You lie to yourself. That will be your downfall. I want to fuck you face down on the floor. Lay down.” He released Mark’s cock and looked at the floor between his feet, adding emphasis with one long finger pointed to the carpet.
The sudden change of pace was jarring, but Mark did as he was told and sank toward the floor. His naked skin and cock felt strange against the carpeting. It was a very humbling position, there was no doubting that. He struggled to control his emotions as he prostrated himself before Angelo, knowing that this was all foreplay to the main event. From his position, Mark could only see Angelo’s shoes, expensive Sicilian leather.
“This isn’t just sex, Mark,” Angelo purred from above. “This is a promise that you will remain loyal to us when we set you free. You understand?”
“Yes,” Mark gritted out. It wasn’t a lie. He understood. That didn’t mean he agreed.
“You’ll be tempted to forget this when you leave, so I’m going to make it as memorable as possible,” Angelo said. “Stay there.”
He walked away, leaving Mark face down on the floor, lying there like a piece of debris. As the seconds ticked by Mark seriously considered getting up. He stayed though, because what was the point in getting up when he’d only have to get back down again.
Nose to the carpet, he contemplated what his life had become. He fucked a man that hated him, and he waited to be fucked by a man he had contempt for. He had to get out of here, before he was ruined entirely, just as Angelo predicted.
“Good boy.” Angelo’s rumble of praise as he returned made an unexpected glow of pleasure run through Mark’s body. He tried to will himself not to feel pleased, but failed in the attempt.
Something leathery dangled in front of his eyes. Something thick and snake-like, leathery and tapered to a vicious point. A whip. Oh shit. Angelo Vitali had a fucking whip.
“Whoa… OW!”
The tail of the whip cracked across his bare back, a tongue of fire across his skin. It was followed by another crack and then another, each landing without explanation or mercy. Angelo worked that whip over Mark’s upper back and found his ass too, lash after wicked lash accompanied by sounds like gun shots. He’d met Angelo to the sound of gunfire. How appropriate that their association should end this way too.
“There can be no pleasure without pain, Mark. There is no love where there is no hate. Purity is death.”
Angelo intoned the dark invocation between cracks which lit Mark’s skin and his soul at the same time, building sensation across and through his prone body. It hurt, but he was hard, and the more it hurt, the more his lust rose.
“Fuck me!” Mark grunted as the lash found his ass. It was the only thing he could think of to say. The only thing that had any chance of ending the pain.”
“You want me to fuck you?” Angelo sounded almost mocking.
“Yes!”
“Do you know why?”
“Because I want to be free!”
“No.” The whip cracked again, and the lash found Mark’s other cheek. “You want me to take you because you’re not really one of the good ones, Agent Locke. You’re every bit as depraved as we are. You just want to think of yourself as a hero, but there are many ways to be heroic, and most of them don’t involve a badge and blind allegiance to a state which doesn’t know or care you’re alive. You want me to take you because I know you, Mark. In our time together I’ve come closer to who you are at your core than anyone ever has. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Mark admitted with a sob. It was true. Fuck. He hated it, but this was the most passion and intensity he’d ever experienced in his life. He’d be abandoning it when he left, but he absolutely had to leave, for his sanity and for the greater good.
Angelo dropped to his knees and put his fingers to Mark’s ass. They were already lubricated and ready to start pressing into his reluctant asshole. As much as Mark might have said he wanted it, his ass was not accustomed to being an entry point for anything other than smooth toys and Mark hissed as three of Mark’s thick fingers pushed inside him, disregarding the barrier of his sphincter just like Angelo disregarded all barriers. He took what he wanted. Simple as that.
Angelo started to finger Mark, speaking in that low seductive tone, his voice taking Mark apart bit by bit.
“Truth is everything, Mark. I don’t lie to myself the way you lie to yourself. That’s why I’ll always win, because you’re trapped in a delusion of what you imagine yourself to be instead of reveling in what you truly are.”
The probing fingers twisted inside him, making his ring relax, preparing him for what was to come. Somewhere in the midst of the mind-fuck, Mark found himself relaxing into the inevitability of it all. His back was stinging, his ass was sore, he was hot and needy and none of it mattered because this was all about and for Angelo.
The fingers slid away and then Angelo was behind him. Days of captivity had culminated in this moment, a thick cock pressing at the entrance of his body, putting inexorable pressure on his untrained sphincter.
“Ask me to take you, Mark.”
Mark groaned. “Please… fuck… me.”
At his bidding, Angelo’s thick cock slid slowly into his ass. Mark felt his lower belly clench, his body rebelling against the intrusion, but it was too late. Angelo was already head deep inside him, that thick cock dominating the flesh around it.
“Good boy,” Angelo purred. “What a very, very good boy.”
He urged his dick deeper, spreading Mark’s tight ring.
This was wrong. This was wrong but he had to do it, and the craving deep inside him made it right as he was slowly infiltrated by Angelo’s thick member, their bodies joining and becoming one. He had not known how hot flesh felt inside, how truly alive another man was when he was deep within. After a few moments, Mark truly did not know where he ended and where Angelo began. It was all pressure and force, the squeezing of his sphincter, the slow slide of the lubricated rod deep inside him, finding the pleasure gland that nothing else would.
“Fuck!” He cried out as Angelo’s dick hit his prostate, a bolt of pleasure racing through his body.
Angelo wrapped his arm around Mark’s neck, nearly choking him as he started to thrust with hard, possessive strokes that demanded everything from him.
“You’re mine. I own you,” Angelo hissed in Mark’s ear, short, brutal, stabbing statements reinforcing everything that had taken place between them.
Mark felt Angelo’s ownership like a force of nature. He sensed everything he’d thought he knew about himself being ripped away beneath Angelo’s desire with rough thrusts which took him to the brink of insanity, making
his cock so hard it hurt as it rubbed against the carpet over and over again in time to Angelo’s demanding strokes.
He was going to cum.
He fought against the climax that could not be denied, knowing that would be the end of everything. Angelo had asked for just this one time, and now Mark knew what it was to be fucked by a man who knew how to fuck a man entirely, from his head, to his toes, to his soul. Every thrust seemed to go to the very core of him, hot flesh pleasuring his rag doll body as he flopped beneath Angelo and allowed the man what he had always wanted: total control.
“Cum,” Angelo demanded, grabbing the back of Mark’s hair and pushing him hard against the carpet, the side of his face pinned as his ass waved in the air, welts stinging with every slap of Angelo’s hard hips and abdomen. “Cum for me, boy. Show me you’re mine.”
He began to pound even more roughly and without any semblance of care, fucking Mark ragged, branding his ass from the inside out. Mark’s orgasm was forced from him, banged into the carpet, ejaculate smearing Mark’s lower body as Angelo matched him, shooting thick loads of cum deep inside Mark’s ass. There was no choice but to take them deep inside his well fucked rectum, Angelo’s seed marking him forever.
Then there was silence.
Deep panting breaths.
A moment that was almost sacred.
And then it was gone.
“Good boy,” Angelo said, pulling his softening cock from Mark’s ass. “I’ll have a car prepared to take you wherever you’d like to go.”
Only partly conscious on the floor, Mark barely believed him. “Really?”
“I keep my word,” Angelo said, slapping Mark’s ass. “Sit up. I need to tell you something. Something you have to understand.”
Mark raised himself from the floor and turned to look at Angelo who was kneeling behind him, smiling beatifically. What was it that had to be said now that hadn’t been said before? Angelo had won, Mark had lost, he was now free to limp back to the bureau as a broken traitor. What more was there?
“You’re mine,” Angelo purred, his dark gaze holding triumphant emotion. “And if you betray me, you will experience pain as you have never known.”
16
Bobby and Angelo stood waving as Mark drove away. He’d left in a haze, walking somewhat gingerly, which Bobby found hilarious. Angelo hadn’t gone easy on the fed, not even a little bit. He’d fucked Mark as if Mark had been taking it in the ass for decades. And the whip would leave marks for quite a while as well. That fed wouldn’t forget them any time soon.
Bobby had figured he’d be relieved when Mark left, but he wasn’t sure he was anymore. Mark had taken some of Angelo’s attention off him, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. He hadn’t enjoyed being jealous, but having less of that laser focus on him was handy at times. He’d gotten away with more in the last week than he had in the last year.
“Just us now, boy,” Angelo said, wrapping his arm around Bobby’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” Bobby said guardedly. He didn’t know if that was true, or even if he wanted it to be true. He hated Mark on principle of course, but the guy could fuck. If they got to spend more time together, maybe Bobby would have started to hate him a little less. Or maybe he would have killed him. It was difficult to tell.
“Was any of that true?” He looked at Angelo and asked the question he hadn’t dared ask until Mark was gone.
“Any of what true?”
“What you told him about the FBI not looking for him, you know, them deliberately leaving him behind…”
“They’ve been sweeping the city block by block for the past week,” Angelo said “They’re frantic.”
“So he wasn’t sacrificed on purpose.”
“He was sent in without proper backup, and nobody came when the shots were fired. The rest is conjecture. Incompetence, or malice. They failed to secure his safety in any way. They were too focused on getting us.”
“And, uhm… those shots… they came from the Leonti family?”
Angelo pursed his lips in a way that told Bobby he wasn’t going to share. Hell, Bobby wouldn’t have put it past Angelo to have set the shooting up himself.
“You let him go back to the feds. You think he’ll stay loyal to us?” Bobby tried another question.
“Did he stay loyal to them?” Angelo smiled coldly and clapped Bobby on the shoulder. “We’ve got some preparations to make, my boy.”
Bobby’s brows rose in shock. “You think he’s going to betray us?”
“I’d be surprised if he doesn’t pull over at the first town and call in a strike on this place,” Angelo snorted.
“So why did you fuck him then?”
“Because,” Angelo smiled. “I had to give him something to betray. He is bonded in the flesh with us, my boy. He is ours. Nothing he does from here on out will change that, no matter what he does.”
“So… what… what are you going to do to him? Kill his family?”
“We’ve already established that going after family is a bad idea,” Angelo reminded him. “Besides, Mark doesn’t care about his family. His mother wouldn’t be in that run down nursing home if he did. She’d be living with him and he’d be looking after her like a good son does.”
“So what, then? Angelo?”
Angelo was already walking away.
Bobby shook his head and muttered curses under his breath. This was fucked. If Mark really did betray them, they’d be screwed. There was no way out of it. Angelo was impressive, but he wasn’t bigger than the FBI.
“I shoulda just shot him,” he muttered under his breath as he scurried to catch up.
17
“You bastard. You’re alive! Where the fuck have you been?”
Gary’s welcome wasn’t exactly effusive, but it was good to hear.
Mark was returning to the office for the first time since his captivity. He hadn’t been allowed in for a week. After he’d called in with the good news that he was alive, the bureau had sent him straight to a doctor who had insisted on admitting him to a clinic for observation and treatment even though he was physically fine. A few people had been in to see him during that time, made small efforts to debrief him, but there was concern he’d been traumatized after a week in captivity.
It wasn’t entirely misplaced.
Everything looked different now. Mark had gone into the house in the woods one man and come out another. He’d changed and the world had changed with him. Memories of his time with the Vitali men often intruded on his day, erotic snippets of naked male flesh presented for his use, or sometimes, memories of what it had been like to be beneath Angelo. It had happened just one time, but that one time had redefined everything.
Counselors had worked with Mark to go over some of the events, but he hadn’t really told them much. Certainly he had not told them everything. For the most part he simply regurgitated Angelo’s story. Told them that the Leonti family had shot and captured him.
He didn’t feel bad about lying to the counsellors. Their caring expressions and vanilla smiles were so alien to his experiences he didn’t see how they could possibly understand what it had been like to be there, never knowing if he would cum or be killed, or possibly both.
Worst of all, Mark found himself missing it. He spent his down time watching television, feeling how very plastic and fake this world he had returned to felt. There was nothing vigorous or vicious or primal for him out here. Everything was soft and sanitized and somehow more wrong than right.
“You were taken against your will,” the counselor had said several times when he attempted to explain how he felt. “You were a victim.”
Victim didn’t fit right. Yes he had perhaps been a victim, but he had acted too. That was the part he couldn’t share or come to terms with. He had dominated Robert Vitali almost as enthusiastically as Angelo, and now he had a taste for it. When he saw a handsome young man, his thoughts turned to what that man would look like on his knees begging for release.
In the end, M
ark just had to get back to work. He had to purge himself of this sickness which seemed to have infiltrated his soul. Standing in the office which smelled like deodorant, sweat, and feet, he knew it was good to be back in this building with its shitty coffee and its flickering fluorescent lights. This was where he would set things right again.
Gary followed up his greeting with a hug. A straight, platonic, non-sexual hug. Mark had almost forgotten those existed.
“I know you’re gay, you bastard, so don’t go getting a hard on,” he said, slapping Mark’s back.
“I’ll try to restrain myself,” Mark laughed.
The greetings kept rolling in over the next hour or so, his colleagues greeting him like a hero with hugs, back slaps, and all the coffee and candy he could take. They were so pleased to see him. There were some upsides to being in his own world, a world where he didn’t have to take it in the ass to be allowed to go home at the end of the day.
As the days went on, he started to feel as though Angelo’s spell truly had been broken. With these people around him, officers of the law, people with real power in the world, Angelo Vitali seemed like a paper cut out of a person. Mark was supposed to be working for him now, but at this distance, that just felt like an insane proposition. What could Mark possibly have to fear from a middle of the road mobster who manipulated men with sex? Nothing.
The longer Mark spent at work, the more determined he became that everything he’d suffered was going to be paid back several fold. Angelo had talked about owning him, but he hadn’t heard so much as a peep from Vitali since getting back. So maybe the big bad mobster wasn’t quite as ballsy as he’d made himself out to be inside the walls of his home.
The story about the Leonti family had taken the heat off Vitali for sure. It was frustrating to sit at work and write statements about a crime that had never been committed. He was probably going to have to testify in court about it too - and that made him sick with worry. His story would have a hundred holes in it. He’d be forced to perjure himself for Angelo Vitali, and frankly he wouldn’t have held in a fart for the man now.