by Loki Renard
He wasn’t Angelo’s prisoner. He was a prisoner of his own treacherous mind.
It was time to take a stand.
Angelo Vitali was just a man. It was easy to be awed by him, but so far he hadn’t actually done anything all that terrible. Mark was beginning to believe that the legends surrounding Angelo were inflated. He wasn’t a monster. He was just a very handsome, charismatic man who knew how to manipulate other men.
Mark got dressed in borrowed clothes, squared his shoulders, and decided to leave. Not escape. Just leave. When he tried the door of his room, he found that it was open. They weren’t bothering to lock him in. They just expected him to hang around until he let Angelo fuck him. That was the level of arrogance he was dealing with. Well, he’d soon show them what he was made of.
He made his way downstairs and found Angelo standing at the bottom of the staircase, almost as if he’d been waiting. A little unexpected, but not of any great concern. Descending from on high, Mark focused on Angelo’s imperfections. The slight crookedness of his ears, the bits of his hair that were more salt than pepper. The pointyness of his elbows. Anything to minimize the impact of the man.
“Hello, boy,” Angelo greeted him.
“Goodbye, Angelo.”
“Hmmm?” Angelo quirked a brow.
“I’m leaving.”
“Oh really?” Angelo’s lips spread in a dark smile. “How fascinating.”
A little chill made its way down Mark’s spine, but he ignored it. He couldn’t give in to fear. That was what Angelo traded on. He was Mr Mindfuck. A player of games. But nobody could win every game all the time.
Mark put on his most confident facade as he closed the distance between himself and Angelo, drawing ever closer to the impeccably dressed model of Sicilian handsomeness.
“I would love to know what you’re thinking,” Angelo added as they came face to face with one another.
“You want to know what I think? I think I can just walk out of here and you’re not going to do a thing because you know that detaining an FBI agent against his will is a federal crime. And you know where that ends up? Pound you in the ass prison.”
With that, Mark started striding toward the front door. Confidence. That was all this would take. With any luck, they’d open the gates for him.
“Come back here, Mark,” Angelo said, his voice quite calm. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Stop me, and I’ll get the judge to add five years,” Mark said over his shoulder.
“Mark, one more step and you’re going to be a very sorry boy, I promise you.”
Mark strode on regardless.
WHAP!
Something long and thin and impossibly hard connected with the back of his knees. Mark crumpled mid-stride and collapsed to the ground with a scream as pain shot through his nervous system. He looked up with wide, pained eyes to see Angelo stood over him, an extendable baton in his hand.
“What the hell!” Mark tried to get up, but Angelo pushed the tip of the baton against Mark’s neck and shook his head.
“Stay right there and don’t get cocky, agent,” Angelo purred. “I can make this as painful as it needs to be. Bobby!”
Bobby emerged from somewhere nearby. He didn’t seem surprised to see Mark writhing on the floor. Neither of these men seemed to be surprised by anything ever. Mark was starting to think the world could explode and Bobby and Angelo would be left behind, looking generally unimpressed.
“Get the chair, Bobby. I think our favorite agent needs a trip downstairs.”
‘The chair’ turned out to be a tall backed wheelchair, which Bobby retrieved from some unseen corner of the house. Mark laid there regretting his choices until Bobby and Angelo picked him and put him into it, ignoring his protestations and stammered attempts at apologies.
He’d fucked up. He knew he’d fucked up. The realization of just how badly he’d fucked up grew as he was wheeled around the foyer and into an elevator he hadn’t known existed.
They went down.
The moment they emerged into a dimly lit basement, Mark tried to get up. Angelo pushed him back down in the chair with a growl.
“Shut up and stay.”
“But…”
“Shut up, or I will gag that pretty mouth,” Angelo said before turning to Bobby. “Get him in position and get him naked.”
Bobby wheeled Mark a few dozen feet further into the semi-darkness then pulled the chair to a halt and walked around to face Mark.
“I knew you’d fuck up sooner or later,” he sneered as he pulled out a knife and slid the gleaming blade down Mark’s shirt, cutting the buttons off in one smooth stroke. The shirt fell open and the knife continued its path downward, through the waistband of his pants and underwear. The material fell away, neatly sliced from his body with impressive skill and what didn’t fall was soon yanked off by Bobby, who showed no interest in tenderness at all. In minutes, Mark was entirely naked and trapped between an evil rock and a malevolent hard place.
Angelo had been waiting patiently for him to be prepared. Once he was satisfied that Mark was properly naked, he began to lecture.
“I don’t tolerate disobedience or arrogance,” Angelo informed him. “You’re mine, Mark. You have no life outside these walls. To the world, you are good as dead. It doesn’t matter what I do to you, understand? You’re debris to be destroyed.”
Gone was the genteel host who shared generous portions of tiramisu. In his place was a cold devil. Angelo’s face was as beautiful as it had ever been, cast in the cool electric light which swung above their heads. He was a perfect tormentor and even as Mark came to fear him, he felt another emotion creeping through his blood, emerging from the very marrow of him. Admiration.
“Don’t hurt me.”
The plea came from his lips without his bidding. It was natural to beg a devil for mercy, and his lips spoke their prayer of their own accord.
“Do as you are told, and it will hurt less.”
That was probably all that passed for mercy where Angelo was concerned.
“You need to learn, Mark. My kindness is not weakness. Bobby, hook him up.”
Bobby grinned and got to work.
As Mark’s eyes adjusted to the low light, he saw that he was in a… well… you could have called it a dungeon if you had a low bar for dungeons. More like a workshop. Lots of metal things, lots of chests containing god knows what. Work benches.
Mark watched as the younger man picked up a thick rubber band marked with metal points. A long lead extended from it, sort of like a mouse cord or something for a computer. He didn’t understand it at all until Bobby slid it over his flaccid cock, pushing it down the shaft until it snugged up against his body. A cock ring of some kind?
Bobby took a plug, similarly dark and marked with metal on the base and smiled more broadly than Mark had ever seen him smile before.
“This is going inside you,” Bobby said. “Spread your legs and lay back.”
Suddenly, Bobby wasn’t the submissive he had been yesterday. Suddenly he was just as powerful as Angelo, drawing power from the master. Mark’s impulse to refuse was significantly tempered by Angelo’s dark stare. He had no doubt that to refuse this would be to make matters much, much worse for himself.
Mark weighed his total lack of options, then spread his thighs.
“Good boy.” Angelo’s approval floated to Mark from the darkness as the plug pressed against his sphincter. Bobby twisted it a few times, spreading lube across Mark’s tight bud, and then it slid inside him, filling him almost three inches deep. It wasn’t physically large. Mark had played with larger on his own, but the humiliation of being plugged as a punishment by a criminal he should have been putting behind bars was almost more than he could take. A hot flush consumed his face, and little tingles ran all the way through his body, starting at his toes and moving all the way to the roots of his hair. He was sticky with sweat as his traitorous rear clutched at the plug, holding the object of torment inside him.
It wasn’t comfortable, but he had a feeling it was going to get much worse very soon. The plug had a cord at the base of it just like the ring. Bobby took the ends of both cords and plugged them into a machine sitting on a nearby table. It lit up with a red light when Angelo flipped a switch.
“There are so many ways to learn a lesson,” Angelo mused. “But I always feel that the most potent lessons are ones that come from within. You were arrogant today, Mark. And you were stupid. Did you really think I’d just let you walk out of here?”
“I figured it was worth a try,” Mark said, grunting softly as he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Having two dark pairs of eyes on him in this very undignified plugged position did not make matters any easier.
His response made Angelo’s lips turn up just a fraction at the corners. “A bluff,” he said. “Well, as you see, I have called that bluff, Mark. And now you pay the price.” He reached out and turned a dial on the machine and a moment later, Mark felt the cock ring and the plug begin to do something to him.
Tingle.
It wasn’t like a vibrator. This was a tingle which came from inside the muscle rather than being imparted to it. It was a very strange sensation and at first Mark was too confused by it to really react.
It felt nice. Definitely pleasurable.
Until it didn’t.
As Angelo turned the power up further, the tingles turned to pricks of pain. Mark started to move about even more uncomfortably. He was faintly aware that his hands were free. There was nothing stopping him from just taking the tormenting apparatus off. He tried reaching for the cock ring…
WHACK!
“Fuck!” He screamed as a belt of electrical stimulation slammed inside his asshole and around his cock.
“Hands off,” Angelo purred, turning the dial back down and returning the stimulation to a simple tingle again. “You’re going to take this, Mark, because you need to learn to behave yourself. Obedience is everything. Submission is survival. Understand?”
When Mark failed to respond in the affirmative, Angelo turned the dial back up and the cracking sensation bolted through Mark’s cock and balls again.
“YES!” Mark cried out.
“I don’t think you do. If you understood, you’d never have disrespected me as you did just now. You would never have thought to try to leave. The problem with you, Mark, is that you still think you’re free. You think you’re part of the world outside this one. You’re not.” Angelo loomed over him, terrible words emitting from that beautiful male face. “You’re mine, Mark. Every part of you. I own your soul.”
Mark’s cock was stinging and his ass was starting to cramp a little. For a time Angelo toyed with the dials, making him dance in pain and then collapse in relief. He was proving his point alright. Mark didn’t feel like himself anymore. He felt like a puppet, dancing on strings attached to the most sensitive parts of him.
“Look how fucking hard he is,” Bobby snorted. “He loves this.”
“What’s not to love? A boy should love his owner,” Angelo said, lowering the stimulation back to the original tingling level. “Do you love me, Mark?”
“No,” Mark gritted out, prepared for more pain. It didn’t come. At least, not right away. His erection continued to tingle with the stimulation Angelo was forcing on it. To Mark’s horror, he realized that orgasm was not out of the question. He might actually cum while Angelo tormented him. What did that mean? Was Bobby right? Did he like this on some sick level?
“You will soon enough,” Angelo smiled. “My name will be synonymous with God. You will pray to me, Mark.”
They were the words of a madman, but they were coming from someone so undoubtedly sane and in control that they left Mark feeling crazy.
“Let me go, please…”
“There’s nowhere to go, Mark. There’s only here. With me.”
“No. Let me go.”
Angelo sighed and turned the dial back up. Mark shouted out immediately. It felt as though he was being belted both inside his asshole and around his cock, a sudden burst of sensation that made his body reel in reaction.
His tormentor turned the unit back down and the pain stopped immediately. Panting and more erect than he had ever been in his life, Mark just stared at Angelo.
“I could leave you hooked up to this for hours,” Angelo said conversationally. “There’s no end to this. This could be the rest of your life, right here, in that chair, being stimulated to orgasm over and over again.”
“Please…”
“That’s the closest you get to prayer, but it’s not enough,” Angelo said. “You have to give yourself to me. You have to give me everything.”
“Please…” Mark groaned as Angelo slowly turned up the dial, ramping the stimulation from gentle tingling to more intense throbbing. It should have been torture, but his body was responding otherwise. His cock was dripping with precum. He was a slave to his flesh, and to its responses to the evil threat Angelo presented.
The dial kept turning. Mark’s writhing grew more intense.
“What was it you said to me upstairs? That I’d be going to ‘pound you in the ass’ prison? There’s only one ass that’s going to be pounded,” Angelo hissed as Mark writhed in pleasure and pain. “And that’s yours.”
Mark came with his cock trapped in the ring, his desire screamed to the rafters as his entire body arched with the pleasure of forced orgasm. He was not in control of himself. He was not in control of anything. The very air he breathed belonged to Angelo. He came screaming, begging, crying. He came until he passed out. And then he came again.
When Mark came fully to his senses, his cock was flaccid and cum was trickling over his belly. Angelo was gone. Only Bobby was left, perching nearby on a stool, watching Mark with those unholy dark eyes. He tossed a towel at Mark.
“Clean up,” he said. “And you can take that shit out of your ass if you want.”
It was almost more embarrassing easing the plug out of his rectum than it had been allowing Bobby to push it in. Bobby looked on, a slightly bored expression on his handsome features as Mark removed the plug and ring and put them to the side.
“You liked watching that I bet,” Mark grunted. “Get me back for what I did to you.”
Bobby shrugged. “I’ll like watching you die.”
Charming.
13
Fucked. He was so fucked. Every move Mark made led him deeper into Angelo’s traps. He couldn’t do anything without wondering if it was somehow planned out for him to fail and be punished.
Once the electrical ordeal was over he’d been sent back to his room, just like the naughty boy he was, or so Angelo said via Bobby, a particularly snarky and vicious proxy. Mark stayed there for three days, being fed on trays Bobby brought him. He didn’t see Angelo in that time, and he was glad not to. His mind and emotions were in chaos, and Angelo only made everything worse.
Mark had to get out of this house. He had to get away from Vitali. But the only way to do that was to let Angelo fuck him. And he couldn’t do that. That went against every value, impulse, and bit of sense he had.
Vitali had been crystal clear about his motivations. He wanted to own him. Mark could see what Angelo had in store for him just by looking at Bobby. That young man had once had his own thriving operation, before Angelo broke him to his will. Now Robert Vitali sucked cock on command. Mark could only imagine Angelo would have him do worse.
Held captive by his thoughts, Mark snapped to quick attention when Angelo walked into the room one afternoon without announcement or warning. Had the man come to gloat? Or to hurt him more? What was his angle now? He moved with a casual stroll and expression which didn’t acknowledge any of the torment he’d put Mark through days earlier. As Mark stared at him, Angelo extended his hand and dropped half a tablet onto the bed.
“Your pill.”
“Thanks,” Mark said taking it and swallowing it back right away. The weaning off the meds was actually sort of working. There were probably side
effects, but his whole situation was so unpleasant he really couldn’t tell if he was suffering stress from being weaned off the benzos, or if it was just what being Angelo Vitali’s captive felt like.
Whatever it was, it felt better when he avoided looking at Angelo. He had already been lying down, so he simply turned his face back to the bed and lay staring at the wall.
“Are you sulking, boy?” Angelo sounded amused.
“I want to go home.”
Angelo made a soft sound of sympathy that Mark didn’t believe for a second. “You know what you have to do.”
“You could fuck anybody, why me?”
“Because there’s no joy in fucking anybody,” Angelo purred.
Mark almost asked if Angelo would be gentle with him. What a ridiculous question. Of course he wouldn’t. He’d be ruthless, twisted, and entirely relentless. Why did the thought of that make him so hard?
Angelo reached out and touched his hair softly. Mark closed his eyes as his tormentor’s fingers brushed lightly across his scalp.
“You’ve belonged to our government since you were eighteen years old,” Angelo murmured. “A soldier, and then a federal agent. They expect you to give your life for your country. All I’m asking for is your body.”
Angelo had a way of making the most perverted propositions sound reasonable.
“I don’t…” Mark trailed off.
He felt the bed sink down behind him as Angelo sat next to him, getting close with his touch and his words.
“You don’t want to be with me? That’s a lie. I can see your desire, Mark. I can feel it whenever you look at me. You want me as much as I want you. But you have these ideas which were injected into your head that keep you from ever being entirely free. You think you’re a prisoner here, but I impose no limitations on what you can feel… it’s the outside world that does that. Shames you for your passions, makes you hide your desires. You think I’m the bad guy, but I’ve only ever hurt you when you needed it.”