The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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CoMPany payLoaD 26 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Both planes circled the small airport, Tom yelling out the window, as if the other plane could very well hear, "We were here first! Take a hike!"
Siding with him, Tony shouts, "Boo-o-o-o-o!" when the other plane loses altitude first.
Tom nicely threatens, "Wait till I catch up with those pilots!"
Tony, knowing the identity of the two, the bearded one being, "Jack Jarrett and Phil Culpepper. Phil, I think could go for some of the fun you could give him, but Jack is as straight as they come!"
"Hmm," Tom thought about it. He's always wanted to be confronted with breaking in a straight man!
Before he could sink more into deep thoughts, seats and seat belts needed to be attended to and minutes after tires touched the air strip.
Leaving the plane, they were confronted by guys they didn't know, though Tom and James had a feeling they were from the Harrellsson enclave.
Tony, as Laurent was doing, clued their companions into, "The blond on the right, is Nolan Harrellsson."
Tom, giving Tony a giggle, says, "He looks like a pushover. Who's the big Arab?"
It was Demont's turn, Tom feeling all tingly about getting to know him.
Thinking they were the only planes in the air, the passengers from both looked up when they heard some buzzing.
Justin Kincade, the youngest of the agents, at twenty-four years old, usually an operative melding in with the college crowd, says, "Ah, the rest of the guests have arrived. Now we can get the party started!"
`Party,' Tom loved the sound of that!
Confronting each other, everyone mixed, being introduced to each other by agents from opposite planes. Tony, Laurent, Patrick, Vince and Justin, it was more like a reunion.
As for the others, Tom made sure he was the first to greet Demont.
"Nice hands," he greets the tall Egyptian.
Demont wondered, thinking some hidden, inner secret, "You think so do you?" His right hand fell from the handshake, coursing down Tom's thigh.
Knowing the flightpath, Tom veers Demont's hand off course, "If you want it, you have to pay up front!"
A year older than Tom, because of his height and weight distribution, he looked much more so than his twenty-four years and expected this to be an easy domination, but also sensed excitement, upon meeting a man much like himself, "Maybe we both find some boys and make them pay for us, huh?"
Tom wasn't exactly sure what Demont meant by it, but was feeling horny and instantly decided he liked Demont.
After speaking his mind, Demont looks up, seeing the pilot from his plane, the bearded one, walking from the plane with a walk on bag in hand. He stood tall, walked briskly and as when he entered the plane, wore shades.
"Excuse me a minute, wouldn't you?" Demont was polite, something which only constitute being so to a man was on the same side of the fence as himself.
Seeing where Demont was headed, Tom had some pulsing down below, only over the fact the pilot was handsome and looked `hot' in the aviation outfit.
"Excuse me?"
Instead of a polite acknowledgement, the pilot says, "I'm in a hurry. If you want to talk you'll have to keep up with me."
He was walking rather briskly, which Demont sped up to keep up. Tom put some pedal to the metal as well.
"I wanted to thank you for the smooth trip," Demont says, the only pick up line he could conjure up.
Tom, on the other hand, cut right through all the red tape and catching up with the pilot, standing a few inches taller, so he had to look up and talk up, "I bet you would look real hot in leather!"
How could Tom `not' say it? Since laying eyes on the pilot, it's the vision implanted in his brain, what he would look like if he wasn't in the airline garb.
It caught his interest, not stopping him, but slowing his gait, "You have an interest?"
Being the pilot was incarcerated on the ranch, until there were passengers flying out, he though he could drum up some hot entertainment.
Demont stands in the wings, until he hears his name called out, "Yo! Demont!" In the short distance he saw Trystan coming towards him, which immediately told him he had to be an occupant of the third plane.
Tom carried on with `the beard', "Only one way to find out. What's your name?"
Most likely he had a good feeling about Tom, without hesitation extending a hand, "Jarrett Horton and you?"
"Tom Houten. My brother and me flew in from Europe."
"James," Jarrett says, "right and as I've heard from the grapevine, you're attached to Tony?"
Tom replies, "I guess with you FBI dudes news travels fast?"
"I'm not with the FBI, though I am a government pilot. But getting back to some hot fun, would you be willing to share Tony tonight?"
Laughing, Tom says, "You know he's a glutton for punishment?"
"I suppose Tony never told you about his first dungeon experience?"
Eyes wide as saucers, Tom tells, "You? You were that guy who whipped his balls as you were jerking him off?"
"Yeah," Jarrett, having a huge grin on his face, "and Tony loved every living minute of it!"
"He told me he wasn't laughing the next day!"
"It was his first time at cock and ball torture." Cunningly, Jarrett finishes off, "And I'm sure it wasn't his last!"
Before they could become too involved in matters of the heart, mind and balls, Jarrett was called over by some officials, Demont and Trystan catching up to Tom.
Across the field James was getting to know Nolan Harrellsson and his partner, then some of the other employees whom could have been threatened by any interceding of a third party's involvement, from Harrellsson's employ, David Schlesinger III, Yalin Tarazi, Jake Golubovic, Hector Iquierdo and Corin McInnes.
Last passenger off the third jet, Nolan yells out, as he rushes towards the bottom of the stairway, "Geoff!?"
Like getting off the plane in Honolulu, Nolan ran into his arms, greeting him, "What are you doing here?"
Concerned about leaving his business, as well as his day to day organized life, more importantly, "I was so worried about you when they briefed us on the terrorist act planned against your building!"
They hugged for what seemed ages, until Hewy coughed up a fake, "Ahem!"
Of course Geoff knew Hewy and they exchanged the same warm greeting.
"Who's minding the shop?" Nolan asks.
Geoff, rolling his eyes, replies, "Gianni Caravaggio."
"What about Pete Savage? Your former partner?"
Dead reckoning, Geoff replies with an exhale of breath, "Pete?" After a look of disgust, "I can't believe I gave up on us for that piece of shit!"
"What do you mean?" Nolan asks.
"He was only looking for money and like an idiot I fell for it."
Three was being a crowd', especially where Nolan and Geoff were at once tight', Hewy third man on the scene in the trio.
"Uh, I better go see what's happening," Hewy made excuse for himself to leave the gathering.
Not making excuse, but telling it like it is, Nolan says, "We had a good thing going Geoff, but since I've met Hewy... well, we're really into making a go of it."
"I'm not here to break up what you two have going," Geoff says with sincerity.
"I know. You're here like us, because of a government security issue."
Because he's been briefed, Geoff asks, "Did they tell you about your father?"
"Don't remind me," Nolan says, as they take to walking towards an out building, where most have congregated.
"Greed," Geoff sums it up.
Nolan, having the whole picture, says, "Greed is what caused the whole plan to hatch and greed is what brought it down."
Geoff replies, "Yup. And now we're all holed up here on this ranch for who knows how long."
Nolan replies, "You make it sound so terrible Geoff. I mean, just because you're a new bachelor, doesn't mean you have to go into mourning. I hear it's a big ranch. There's got to be some hot ranch hands!"
Geoff acknowledges, "I suppose I should start looking on the bright side."
Saying it, he catches several feet in the distance, some hot dude, beard, sunglasses waiting to get into a building, same one a long cue of passengers wait for processing.
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Back in the city, Denis Crew had reported back to the studio, a hopeful the initial stages of his modeling portfolio would commence. So nervous, he phoned Doug and asked him to meet him at the front door.
Entering, the place was abuzz, but it didn't seem like business as usual. Grabbing Denis and Doug by the shirt collars, from behind, they heard a voice in their ears, "This way."
"What's going on?" Denis asks.
Doug too was on the defensive.
Terry, as he quietly dragged them into the makeup studio, says, "The IRS. They're here investigating Glenn Watney for income tax evasion."
"What does that have to do with us?" Doug asks.
"You two are not yet involved with the studio. Trust me, you don't even want to be seen around here."
As Terry was enlightening them on the situation, he was opening the window which led to a side alley. "Ready to jump?"
"Jump?" Denis asks, thinking not only of themselves, but the illustrious career which had been built up for him, stopping before it even got started!
However, when they heard a knock at the door and some gruff voice asking, "Mr. Brownlee," they hightailed it out of there, each carrying a makeup bag from Terry's possessions.
Out in the alleyway, they took the opposite trail, away from the curb. Terry knew all the moves. A one time boyfriend, he banged on the alley door to the haircutting salon. Immediately allowed in, Denis and Doug met Ivan Casanova.
Denis was with Terry. Doug thought Ivan surely a `casanova!' Yet, Terry quickly set Doug straight, thinking the same thing and finding out Ivan had boyfriends crawling out of his pockets!
Regardless, they found themselves out front, with the keys to one of Ivan's many cars, a hot looking mustang. Doug steals the keys, saying, "I'm good with Mustangs!"
Terry snickers, "I bet you are!"
Dumping Terry's shit in the trunk, they made their getaway, Doug asking, "Where to?"
Terry replies, "The airport."
Denis, sort of joking, asks, "We getting out of the country?"
"No," Terry replies with an air of calm, "matter of fact, we're headed `to the country!'"
The two teens were extremely confused, until Terry alerts them to the fact there is a very good reason on how the IRS was able to complete their investigation of Glenn Watney.
"You're not a makeup man?" Denis asks.
Doug assesses, "So you're like a double agent for the government?"
Terry answers with strictest confidence, telling, "Yes, I work for the government and if it wasn't for my investigation into Glenn Watney's books, they would not have been able to formulate the case against him. Does that make you feel uncomfortable about me as a friend?"
Doug replies, "I don't give a shit, as long as it's him and not us!"
Meekly, Denis agrees, "Me too, but what happens to us now?"
"Now? Well, I feel horrible about you boys being put instantly out of work and pulling some strings I've found the other operative involved..."
"There's another spy?"
"Spy?" Terry questions Doug. Then reckons, "Yeah, I guess you can say I'm a spy."
"Who's the other guy? Anybody we know?" Doug interrogates.
"Romero Desario ring a bell?"
Doug, braking for a light, leans extra heavy on the pedal, "Watney's protege? But he was supposed to be learning about photography!"
"Romero does' know a lot about photography. He was a photographer for foreign correspondents before he became employed by the agency. Though, for all intensive purposes, he was told to make mistakes' so he could fit in as a trainee."
The two listened and learned, Denis breaking silence, "And so he's out of work too?"
"Not necessarily. There's always need for a photographer on the ranch. And by the way, I happen to find out through Romero, there's a couple of jobs available for some ranch hands, if it interest you?"
"Sounds good to me!" Doug replies, stepping on the gas.
However, the same wasn't true for Denis, pouting, "I thought I was going to be a model. Mr. Watney even said I could be a supermodel, with my looks!"
Getting cozy with Denis in the back seat, Terry replies, "This doesn't mean it's the end of your dream, Denis. Merely a temporary stepping stone to better things. If you and Doug choose to, there's even a college nearby. You can work the ranch and study at the same time."
"One problem?" Doug brings up.
"What's that?"
He tells Terry, "No loose change in our pockets?"
Terry says, "I can almost guarantee they will be willing to give you a cash advance."
"Yeah, right," Doug says pessimistically, "and then we'll be shoveling cowshit till we're ninety!"
Entering the small airport grounds, they put the conversation off till a later time.
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"Hey, how's it going?" Geoff caught up to his mystery man with the beard and shades.
He got more of a response than Demont, tilting of the glasses, the once over and then a delayed smile, "It's going good. How about yourself?"
Geoff responds, "Can I buy you a drink?"
"If I can buy you dinner?" Jarrett replies.
Whomever had thoughts of Jarrett being straight, must've needed new batteries for their `gaydar'!
Seeing Geoff and Jarrett walking off together, Demont insinuates, "Hey! I saw him first!"
Tom replies, "Don't worry. This place is a boot camp. We'll be seeing more of him when we get out boots on."
Demont tells him, "I hope that's `all' we see on him!"
Tom was all for it, Tony as well.
As Demont turns his attention back to the three man conversation, he rekindles the subject, asking Tony what he likes having done to his balls.
Tony has had an ample amount of cock and ball torture, none quite as intense as with Tom doing it, but it was probably more special because in fact it `was' Tom doing stuff to Tony's cock and balls, but he levels with Demont, "I've always had this fantasy of having long laces tied around each ball sac and then stretched out in different directions. After that though I'm not sure. Do you think you can come up with some good ideas which will get my rocks off?"
Demont was salivating, thinking of at least five things he could do to Tony's balls. One, if Tom permitted would being harnessing Tony's balls with some lassoed lacings, using them as a stirrup as he rode his ass!
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Upon entering a transitioning post, a portal from the outside world, via the airport depot, bags were checked, everyone slightly padded down.
Trystan jokes with the attendant doing him, "When do I get to return the favor?"
He received no verbal reply, but a wiggling of eyebrows.
Such a shame, Trystan sensed, thinking it probably was a rule, since this was a temporary living space, they were not allowed to frat with the employees. Still, after picking up his bags, he asks the dude, who doesn't look much older than his own age of nineteen years , "Got a name?"
"Scott Harbison," he replies.
"Cool. I'm Trystan Carr."
"I know."
Taken aback by the dude already knowing, he replies, "Okay," and bids farewell, "see ya later, huh?"
"Maybe."
As they walked to the next building, the pathway sliced in half by fields, Trystan took into account the sights and scene. He mentions to Demont, walking next to him, "I thought slavery was dead?"
Eyes on the workers in the fields, one or two guys behind plows, whereas there should have been horses pulling or pushing, Demont says of them, "Oh but such `beautiful' slaves!"
A silver-haired dude suddenly appears next to them, saying, "You don't think you're going to get room and board for nothing, do you?"
He was jogging and for an older dude, he seemed in good shape, Trystan saying, as he cruised right by them, "Who the hell does he think he is?"
Trey Smith, the federal officer who arrived on the third plane, along with Demont, Trystan and others, catches the question, "Uncle Art."
"Who's `Uncle Art?'" Trystan replies, watching him disappear into a grouping of glass doors.
"My uncle, dah?" the twenty-eight year old replies.
Based on the uncle's words, Demont asks, "He says we don't get room and board free. Nobody said anything about paying for it!"
Trey sensed being a bit intimidated by Demont's height and the forcefulness of his words, answering, not to slight them, but roping everyone in, "We all have to pull our weight around here."
Trystan, moving along, because of the gap in the triple line, picks up his gear, saying, "I don't like the sound of all this."
Working as a security officer for Harrellsson was one thing, but pushing or pulling an implement meant for a horse was another.
"Damn!" Demont complained, when they reached the triple doors to another building.
It wasn't the modern facility, complete with plants everywhere and a whole wall of water, which contained some fish, but the fact Trey's uncle had put a shirt on!
On the other hand, some took Demont's exclamation as the same as theirs, a modern growing facility they have never witnessed.
However, Demont kind of guessed why Art Smith had a shirt on, the cool temps making his hard nips rub against his own shirt. A hand to his chest even confirming it.
"Playing with yourself again, Demont?"
He wasn't surprised to see Nolan. Okay, he was glad to see him, but most importantly he wanted to gripe, "What's this we have to work for our room and board?"
Knowing the scope of things already, Nolan replies, "We all do!"
Joking and not joking, Demont replies, "Maybe I can get a job in the discipline department. There's got to be some boys who refuse to do the work they tell them to do?"
A pat on the back, Nolan says, "Demont, just make the best of it and `try' to do what they ask you?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, but wrinkled his lips up, so his nose looked like a bull ready for charging. He was feeling kind of glum, until he got tagged hard on the right shoulder from behind, "What the fuck?" Turning around, seeing Jarrett Horton, he says, "You know you almost dislocated my shoulder?" he moves it around.
Jarrett, who stood at six-feet-two, measured up to Demont with little effort, saying, "Know anything about vegetables," he eyes Demont up and down for effect, "besides eating them?"
Speaking truthfully, Demont says, "I'm more a meat and potatoes guy."
Trystan stood there, watching and waiting. He shook his head, just knowing Demont `walked right into this one!'
"Nice to know," he slips his hand down to his crotch, Jarrett saying, "`cause got a nice piece of meat and two potatoes right here for ya!"
He laughed.
Trystan laughed, already knowing something like this was going to befall Demont.
Retaliating, Demont states, "Yeah, well I got a nice piece of sausage already to bake in your oven!"
Not taking it to heart, Jarrett replies, "I think us two are going to get along fine." He picks up Demont's extra bag, asking, "What's in here... your rock collection?" But he handled it okay, slinging the band attached, over his shoulders.
Taking his other bag, Demont replies, "Some things which go along with my hobby!"
In Jarrett's mind, for all he knew, it could be a skateboard, rollerblades, tennis racquet or other, being Demont looked to be in good shape physically.
However, watching Jarrett carry the bag over his shoulder, he pictured the wide bod without the shirt and how nice the leather prison strap would look good against his skin!
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"This is our room," Vince not giving them time to wonder, "how do you like it?"
Hewy ventures to ask, "Our room, Vince?"
He knew he had to be prepared, "Yes. Remember I told you, for security's sake, I would be with you around the clock?"
Nolan says, "I count four beds?"
"Right. One of the employees from your building with take up the fourth bed, David Schlesinger?"
Not knowing how to react, Nolan replies, based on what he's heard, plus his father's favorite patsy, "The office slut?"
Hewy laughs.
"He is," Nolan replies, naming different means by which he's achieved the title, mainly pointing out, "He was the whipping boy for my father for years, not to mention sucking down half the staff in the executive lounge!"
"Perfect!" Vince replies. From his perspective, he's already convinced Hewy and Nolan are tops. "This David and me. We can pair up and become your full time cock slaves!"
Nolan is ready to refute it, Hewy jumping in with, "This sounds like a good idea."
Knowing the two had little knowledge of David, Nolan furthers, "Oh he'll `love' you, Hewy."
Vince then figures, "Oh, so it'll be me who gets your meat forced down my throat, Nolan?"
First of all, hearing David was going to be bunking with them, Nolan wasn't too crazy about the idea. For sure he was not going to interact with him in any bdsm games. So far, if Hewy was okay with it, he was willing to take the tradeoff with Vince. "I guess that's cool."
"Trust me," Vince says, "even though I bombed out taking all that pain jazz, I'm really good at giving a very satisfying blowjob. I can do a fine job at rimming ass too and I'm very good at bathing a hot set of balls and..."
"That'll do, Vince!"
On the other hand, Hewy says, "I hope David Schlesinger is `not' so willing!" He smiles.
Vince asks, "You can really get into that discipline and punishment shit?"
"Trust me, Vince," Nolan informs, "you don't want to be on the taking end of a flogger in his hand!"
"You whipped your own boyfriend?" Vince puts it to Hewy.
Nolan sets him straight, "It was a light whipping. Stung, but didn't break the skin."
Leaving the door open, Vince says, "You'll have to show me about it."
Nolan was not at all sure about whipping Vince, but one thing which turned him on was the build and he had already noticed the open collar, some nice rug laid down on his chest. Hair. It turned him on, something which happened to be a bonus with Hewy, black fur on his chest, except around his nips. A thick trail led to his bellyhole swirl, which in turn... it made him lick his lips, thinking tonight, Hewy might just wind up with three hungry slaveboys!
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`CoMPany payLoaD' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.