by Mark Alders
A noise disturbed him from his thoughts. A sound he recognised—a Ferrari engine. Jason swallowed hard. Seemed Randy was approaching.
“I’m coming, Jason. I hope you didn’t miss me.” With the sound of Randy’s voice, the crack of light in the distance got wider, intense. Jason turned his head.
Seconds later, a flick of a switch and fluorescent bulbs ignited high above him. After a few agonising moments of not being able to see, of waiting for his eyes to adjust, he realised the time had come for his life to end. Unable to control himself, his bladder released. His piss splashed onto a concrete floor.
Seemed he was naked, too.
When his eyes had become accustomed to the light, he could see the full weight of his situation. He was in a dungeon. A torture dungeon to be precise. There were all sorts of tools arranged in racks along the walls, whips, cat ‘o nine tails, spears, branding irons, and straps. There were also numerous pieces of equipment which didn’t bode well for making him feel any ray of hope about his current situation. To his left, cages and a torture rack. To his right, fuck harnesses, suspended strapping and a stock. A dude, naked and emaciated was held within the stock, blood cacked all over him from the beatings he had received. Jason couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. Up ahead, a staircase.
Randy was descending the stairs, a smile on his lips which sent shudders of fear through him like poison from a snake bite. “Are you ready to have a little fun, my man?”
Jason tried to answer. Again, a realisation came to him. He was gagged. All he could manage was a muffled cry out for help. A fat fucking lot of good that did. He’d bet this dungeon was sound proof, too. He could see surveillance cameras dotted about. No doubt to give Randy some jack off material as he watched his dungeon play things being tortured…or re-watch if he recorded his proceedings.
Randy strode up to him, pulled away the gag. The second he did so, Jason said, “What the fuckin’ hell are you going to do with me, cock head? I thought you said I could live?” Although, he had to admit, no longer having the gag around him was a relief.
His boss tutted, waggling his index finger back and forth to emphasise his next words. “I told you, you’ve got to be punished for ratting me out. I now have the cops on my tail, no thanks to you. Besides, this is all part of the job I have for you, remember. You’re going to be the bait in a little trap I am going to set up for Casey Watson.”
“Casey?” As soon as Jason heard that name, his stomach tingled in that delicious way it always did when he had a crush on a guy. The copper who had helped get him into this mess was damn fine. No, he couldn’t think like that. He got himself into this mess. If he wasn’t a runner, a criminal, then perhaps he could have a chance with the likes of Casey Watson. Damn that pig was fucking fine. He shook his head. A bloke like Casey wouldn’t be attracted to the likes of him, not in a million years. Sadness washed over him.
“Aww, you feel for him, don’t you?” Randy ran his fingers over Jason’s cock, startling him. The pressure he applied was sensual, especially when he stroked the silk of his foreskin. Jason liked his cock being touched in such a way. He couldn’t help but become aroused, especially when he thought about Casey taking him away from all this and making sweet love to him. Why couldn’t he have a fairy tale fantasy in the last moments of his life? Why couldn’t he imagine Casey as his knight in shining armour, ready to slay the dragon named Randy?
Jason smiled. “Yeah, I fuckin’ like that pig. What’s it to you?” But he knew his boss only stroked his cock to tease him, give him some false hope before he acted out his real intentions. Randy was like a cat with a mouse, playing with it until it died of shock or exhaustion.
Jason hated being the mouse.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be set free once I have disposed of him. Besides, you’ll forget about Casey soon enough. I mean, you’re such a slut, I’d bet you won’t have any trouble getting your arse filled if you prowled the public toilets, I’m sure. Those business men love skinny white trash.”
Jason winced. The words hurt. He was better than white trash…he just never got the chance to prove such a thing to anyone. No one ever gave him the chance, not since he followed David into hell, anyway. “I’m not a slut. I ain’t trash either. I’m a—”
Randy lashed out, striking Jason across his face. The sting of his actions and the coppery taste of blood struck him worse than he would have liked. He yelped. “Don’t ever answer me back unless I request it. Got it?”
Jason nodded, but the hate he felt for the man before him rose up. Seemed the teasing stage was over. Seemed Randy would now get down to business. He’d better not rile him up anymore. Swallowing the last shred of pride he had, he replied, “Yes…boss.”
Randy smiled, one which sent shivers through Jason. “I think I need to help highlight just who’s in charge here. It’s high time I made you submit to me properly, teach you to respect your superiors.” He turned and proceeded toward a lever on the left hand wall. Jason assumed he would soon be released from his suspended state so Randy could get down to his real intentions, forcing him to submit and then killing him. Sure, he had said he would be let free. Jason didn’t believe his words. No one ever left the dungeon unless it was in a body bag.
Seconds later, and with a clank of metal, Jason hit the floor. The wind was knocked out of him, but relieved he was no longer hanging. His body ached, his feet and hands tingled with painful pins and needles and his back had a shooting pain right where his shoulder blades met. No doubt the result of being hung for fuck knows how long. Probably hours. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“Oh, don’t thank me yet. I still have to have some fun with you.”
Jason looked up, concern washed over him. Then fear, sheer and absolute. “Fuck.”
Randy came over to him, his smile more like a scar now, his eyes intense, his demeanour changed to one of determination. “I will give you two choices, my man.” He grabbed Jason, pulling him up off the ground, his grip unforgiving, his hold tight. Jason winced, wishing with all his might he could turn around and punch the man’s fucking lights out. Then again, he couldn’t resist him right now even if he wanted to. He was weak. Randy’s plan all along, he’d bet. Hanging someone from their ankles and wrists would see to that. “Choice one, I get to whip your pretty flesh while you’re strapped to the rack over there until you fall unconscious. Or choice two, I put you in the harness and fuck you with various objects, including my own meat, until you beg me to stop. The choice is yours.”
Jason spat. A great globule of saliva landed near Randy’s feet, blood still evident. “You’re sick.”
“I know. But my methods are effective. Sure, not as effective as Casey Watson’s, but I don’t know his secret, so good old fashioned torture will have to do. Now, I will ask you one more time, which do you choose?”
“None of them, fuckstain.”
Randy sighed. “You know what? I grow tired of you, Jason, which is quite disappointing considering this morning you showed such potential. Still, I think a good beating on the rack is what you need. Perhaps then you will appreciate the offer of having me fuck you as one which you will jump at next time.”
“I hope Casey comes in here and arrests your fuckin’ arse.”
Randy struck him again.
This time Jason was flung to the floor from the force the blow, the chains secured to him clanking loud, echoing in his mind. His jaw exploded with pain, his mouth filled with blood. He spat, staining the concrete red. He wanted to curl up into a ball, cry his eyes out until someone could hear him, come and save him from this nightmare.
But he couldn’t let Randy get his satisfaction so easily. He decided to spend his last moments alive as the man his Mamma would be proud of. With all the strength left within him, his whole body shaking, he struggled to his feet. Pride overtook him when he stood, looking directly at the man who would finish him off.
Randy’s cruel smile remained. “Don’t speak from now on or I will cut your filthy tongue f
rom your mouth.” His boss grabbed him, pulling him toward the rack, securing him to it without care. Jason offered no resistance. “Even if you scream, I will end it for you. Is that clear, you worthless piece of shit?”
As soon as Jason was tied to the rack, facing out so his back was to the machine, Randy went to a cupboard, opened it, revealing an assortment of tools, all designed to inflict pain in varying degrees of intensity. There were heaps of whips, bludgeons, pikes, and clamps.
Randy studied the tools before him for the longest time. Finally, and much to Jason’s dismay, he selected the container of clamps, the metallic and painful looking ones. “I want to see how much you can take, my man, so I will start light. After all, why should killing someone be a chore? Got to have some fun, too, don’t I?”
Jason swallowed hard. His bladder released again, a warm trickle of urine ran down his legs. But he didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. If anything, he had to hold out as long as he could. Randy had said it himself, the cops had been following him. Perhaps they were here right now, ready to break down the door and save him from death. He sure hoped so.
Randy placed the clamps at the base of the rack, selecting a few. “Shall we begin?” The delight in his words sounded more sinister than anything Jason had ever heard. He hated the man. Fucking hated him with every fibre of his being.
Jason’s gaze landed on the man’s crotch. Randy had a hard on, his trouser front revealing such a thing as easily as if he hadn’t been wearing them at all. Seemed playing with his victims did indeed get the man horny. He’d bet the man’s cock oozed pre-cum, wetting his underwear. From when he sucked him off, he knew he produced a lot. Pity he was an evil fucking bastard, because damn, he was a fine example of manhood. All fit with well-defined muscles and tanned skin for good measure. Then again, beauty wasn’t everything. The man’s mind was the ugliest Jason had ever come across.
When Randy retrieved a couple of clamps from the container, Jason’s stomach turned in a terrible way, one which made him feel nauseous. Moments later, the man hovered a clamp over Jason’s left nipple. “Such a cute little lump you have there, all lovely and pink. You are handsome, I admit. Pity you defied me. Real pity.”
Randy applied the clamp.
An intense pain shot up from his nipple. He gasped and sucked in the air through his teeth. Thank fuck the agony subsided as quick as it had started, otherwise he would have had no choice but to scream out. An action which would have seen him killed sooner rather than later.
“Oh, come now, I’ve only just started. Plenty more where that came from.”
Jason didn’t answer.
Randy applied another clamp. Then another. Each time, Jason squirmed more violently, his eyes watering so his vision blurred. His bottom lip trembled uncontrollably. The chains rattled while he writhed, his mind screaming out, unable to focus on anything but the relief he would feel once the initial pinch of the clamp on his flesh had eased.
There was a moment of rest.
Jason gained back a normal breathing pattern. No longer did he feel the pain from the clamps even though they covered his chest and stomach.
“It’s not all that bad, is it, my man? Besides, I have so much to go through, I wouldn’t hurt you too much at the start. Less fun that way.”
Much to Jason’s horror, Randy grabbed his cock, tugging on his foreskin. He whimpered, knowing full well where the next clamp would be applied. He tried with all his might to remain silent, thankfully succeeding. He couldn’t let Randy win so soon.
A tear rolled down his cheek.
Randy rolled his fingers on Jason’s foreskin, clamping it, preparing it. The sensation made the skin tingle, sending shivers through his body. Jason couldn’t help it, he hardened.
“Oh, I can see you like this.” When Randy finished his words, he applied a clamp to his foreskin.
Jason screamed.
Chapter Six
Bruce leant over to Casey, brushing off crumbs from his trousers which fell from the burger he had gulped down only moments ago, reaching for his cup of soft drink. “Time we did our thing, buddy, don’t you think?” He slurped from the container, replacing it back into the paper holder the take-a-way place provided when he had taken more than half the content.
The time on the car’s dash read a few minutes after midnight. The moment was the one Casey was dreading, yet looking forward to at the same time. He knew such a time would come, especially as their orders were to stakeout Randy Piper and then question him when they got their chance. Seemed him going into his gym presented the best chance they had all day. “Sure thing, I’ll grab the warrant out of the glove box.”
“Just be on guard. This guy’s a psycho and I’m sure he’ll be ready for us.”
“I heard that.”
Together they walked toward the gym, flashlights in hand, even though the grounds were well lit. When they came to the front gate, the buffer between the car park and the building, Bruce tested the latch. It was unlocked. With an annoying squeak of metal over metal, the gate was pushed open.
Bruce gestured for Casey to follow him with a nod of his head. Casey understood. After all, Bruce was the senior man. If he wanted to lead, Casey wouldn’t argue.
As soon as they arrived at the entrance doors of the gym, two security guards approached. One of them nodded, acknowledging their presence. The other, a shorter one with shifty eyes, didn’t look so convinced by them being there.
“What can we do for you, officers?” the taller guard asked.
Bruce replied, “Is the owner about?”
Casey couldn’t help but smile. He knew Randy was inside, his fire-engine red Ferrari had passed them about ten minutes ago. Bruce was just testing the waters with these two, see how much they were willing to give away…which was usually in direct correlation to how well they were paid. Well paid security guards were the hardest to get answers from.
“Naw, he’s probably tucked away in bed inside his fancy mansion or something like that. Better come back tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll show up sooner or later.” The taller guard said, his nametag identifying him as simply, John.
Bruce grunted disapproval under his breath. “Yeah, perhaps you’re right. Hey, don’t suppose you would mind if we just check out the grounds, do you? We’ll be out of here in a jiffy.”
The shorter man looked at the taller one. “I don’t know, if Mr. Piper finds out we let cops nosey around without his permission, it won’t be worth our jobs.”
Bruce came to pat the smaller man on the shoulder. “Well, we won’t tell him if you don’t. Besides, you can join us if you like. Sound fair?”
Again the two guards swapped glances. Finally, the short one said, “I’ll come with you. No need to tie us both up from doing our jobs.”
The man named John nodded. “I’ll meet you all back here in half an hour. Will that be enough time to look around, officers?”
Bruce offered a smile. “Sure.”
Casey could make out the shorter name’s name from his name tag. He was Peter. A man who may be short, but certainly not hindered in any other way. He looked fit, his muscle definition clear, even through his security guards uniform. He had a thick head of black hair, too. Quite handsome. Quite handsome, indeed.
“Okay then, let me show you the grounds, but that’s it. Unless you have a warrant, I can’t let you into the building,” Peter said.
Bruce gestured for Casey to leave the papers in his jacket pocket without drawing attention to his action—well, Peter didn’t seem to notice, anyway. He knew his partner was up to something, but what? Perhaps he wanted to play the warrant card later. See how far he could push things with these guards.
“I understand.” Bruce smiled and winked at Casey. “Say…Peter, what’s that building over there?”
Peter turned. “It’s the chemical storage station. Chlorine and stuff’s held in there out of harm’s way for the pool. Why?”
“Nothing. But I think we should start there.”
Peter
shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you want.”
Casey almost couldn’t contain himself, and had to suppress a chuckle. He didn’t want to give anything away. Bruce, without doubt now, was up to something. When they got to the chemical storage station, away from the sight of the main building, everything became clear. Bruce said, “Casey, I don’t think Peter here is cooperating as best as he could. I think it’s time we questioned him in that way only you know how. What you reckon, buddy?”
Peter’s face flashed concern. “What? What have I done? I’ve cooperated. Besides, I don’t have to answer any questions. You don’t have anything on me.”
Casey didn’t need to be told twice. He came in front of Peter, unzipping his trousers and reaching in to reveal his cock to the man. He had a semi already, the cold night air striking his skin adding to the sensation which accelerated his arousal. “Ready for my questions, Peter?”
“What the freaking hell? What sort of joke is this? Are you sure you’re—”
Peter couldn’t finish his words. Bruce had come around behind him, securing his arms behind his back so the man couldn’t break free. “Be quick, buddy.”
Casey couldn’t help but feel complete and utter admiration for Bruce. Not only did he accept his ability with an open mind, he now helped him, too. They really were a great partnership, like Batman and Robin.
Peter squirmed, doing his best to try and release himself of Bruce’s hold, to no avail. He knew what his partner meant by needing to act quick. Sure, Bruce was massive, able to handle the man easily, but if the security guard got smart and back-kicked him in the balls, his hold would be realised in an instant.
Urgency overtook Casey’s actions and a heartbeat later, and almost without thought, Casey grabbed at the front of Peter’s trousers, finding his zipper and undoing it in no time flat. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”
Before Peter could call out for help, still stunned no doubt by what was happening to him, Casey had pulled his cock free from his clothes. He was intact and of a size which matched his stature. Then again, not all men could be well hung, that was a fact. Perhaps Peter was a grower, his full potential evident when he got a hard on. In any case, Casey wasted no time. He touched his foreskin onto Peter’s. Thankfully, the tingling sensation had started well before he had exposed himself, otherwise the whole interrogation could have been for nothing. His foreskin only did its thing when it tingled. No tingle, no truth from any bloke no matter how hard Casey willed such a thing.