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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HuNKeR'd DoWN 03 a continuation of `CoMPany payLoaD', WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Demont! Come in!"
Upon welcoming Demont into the main room of the edited ranch house, Nolan clung to the manual, but what lay in the fold slid to the floor.
"I see you were expecting me!" Demont laughs, hugging both Nolan and the thick book.
"Demont, get it through your hear for once and for all..."
"I know, I know, you don't want to fuck me!" Demont replies, breaking his affectionate hold over Nolan.
"I appreciate the thought Demont, but I assure you, what I did for you comes from a place in the heart where a return gesture is not really necessary?"
Helping Demont get a visa, then citizenship, the monetary aspect, as well as time given, Demont has always hounded Nolan, "I know, but I will find a way!"
"Why do I find that not hard to believe, based on your persistence, Demont?"
Switching subjects, Demont says, "Reason I am here is because of the "Bear and Grill'."
"`Bear and Grill', Demont? In case you haven't noticed we don't have one and I would encourage those who frequent Atlantis..."
"No, I would never suggest. What I would like to say, after talking moments ago to two ranch hands, I feel we need to have a place for those, not much different than patrons at the `Bear and Grill', to release their inner tensions," he says, bending on one knee to pick up the condoms.
Nolan, after warding off repayment for his kindness, jokes, "While you're on your knees, Demont!" he chuckles.
"Gladly!" Demont replies, going for Nolan's zipper!
"I was kidding, okay? Besides, in a few short moments I have to meet Thor for drinks at Atlantis. You're welcome to come along?"
Literally, though put casually, Demont replies, "Another time. I have two boys hanging around in my room for me to return!"
"Hmm, good cocksuckers?" Nolan thinks `sexually.'
"You don't know until you try? Why don't you stop by later," Demont heads for the door. "Bring your friend."
"Sounds inviting, Demont," Nolan replies, leaving an open window for thought.
"You think about the `Bear and Grill'," Demont replies, leaving as quickly as he came.
Thinking about it, Nolan did and in doing so, his hand gravitated to between his legs. He smiled, thinking of being led down the stairs to the basement, the makeshift dungeon, though well-equipped. He smiled, thinking of how he was going to be horribly tortured, only to have a flock of slave boys pamper him with their mouths. He could remember one in particular, Joshua, early twenties, college frat, mostly smooth, emo haircut, but above all winning him over with how tantalizing he could be as a cocksucker and ball-licker. As if it were yesterday, Nolan went at his own zipper. Closing his eyes, he dreamt up the scene, Joshua boosting himself up on the bondage table, lowering his shoulders and without hesitation, driving hard cock into his mouth, Nolan's shaft drilling right down Joshua's throat. Working himself up in a frenzy, Nolan wet his pubes up, gasping with mixed emotion, as if it were Joshua's mouth on him and not his own hand!
%
"That'll teach you bitch!"
One ranch hand, eighteen year old Justin Strand was barely able to touch the floor with his toes, arms stretched above his head, a ball gag in his mouth, his head dropped onto his chest. Both nips had clenching hardware attached, weights making them pull away from his smooth chest. His balls were cinched off with a parachute, both sacs stretched by an attached weight to the chains. Most likely Justin wasn't feeling much pain from the weights on his nips and balls, his back a mass of welts from a whipping, which could have totaled over one hundred lashes. Almost incoherent, eyelids droopy, he couldn't talk if he wanted to, watching Dillon Li torture the other ranch hand, slated for punishment.
Unlike Justin, Chris Ivanatov was bent over a sawhorse-like fixture, bent in half literally, wrists cuffed, attached to the front legs of the bondage implement, ankles the same, all four limbs keeping his bod from thrashing about. As with Justin, both nips and balls were trussed up with menacing hardware and weighted down. Chris' lily white back shone the effects of what a flogger could do. Different than Justin, probably because he had more stamina, an unfortunate situation had befallen Chris.
Even Justin could sense the terror, watching as their torturer held a greased up buttplug and worked it into Chris' ass canal.
When it wouldn't budge in, Dillon would take a rubber mallet and give it varying degrees of pounding.
The sound of Chris' pain emanated from the ball gag, a throaty type of scream.
Fortunately for the two, Demont, after leaving Nolan's place and thinking him kind of receptive to the notion of creating a `Bear and Grill' type of recreational facility, he decided to check out the old rooms where Art Smith used as chambers of corporal punishment.
Demont thought he heard something', thinking it was the squeek of his shoes on the floor, something he found kind of annoying, but thought it would wear off. Standing still in the hallway, his shoes stable, he got the same squeek' in his ear. The closer he came to one of the rooms, sequestered away in the security block, the more he heard the sound, amplified to sound like a howling animal.
He has seen guys playing like this, but when he opened the door, Demont realizes this as not consensual, evident damage to one ranch hand's bod, the stripes and gadgets hanging from nips and balls, meant to instill torment. However, catching his attention big time is the other ranch hand, bod slung over the saw-horse, another behind him, recognizing from the picture in a file sent to him for review, as being the newly annexed security officer, Dillon Li, a mallet in his hand, ready to swing against the ranch hand's ass.
"What the fuck you think you're doing?"
The only logical explanation Dillon could offer was half-truth, since Justin and Chris' names were on the list, "Punishment."
"I see," Demont eyes up Justin, then proceeds towards Chris, glancing to the mallet in Dillon's hand. "And if you were `authorized' to deliver punishment," Demont grabs the mallet out of Dillon's hand, "do you think a fit punishment would be to pound a wedge, far too big to fit in, into a guy's ass?"
"I'm only doing what Art Smith would do and I thought since Art is not here any longer someone should carry on."
Sounded rational, except for, "And I suppose you are next going to tell me you did not know punishments were suspended until after the holidays?"
Dillon might have thought he had things under control, but one of his faults was not a good liar. Slowly he began to weave himself into a corner of fault, "No, I didn't know."
"Tell me something, Mr. Li, do you thoroughly acknowledge the English language, read and write it?"
"Sure," Dillon replies.
"Then how could you possibly not read the notice on the outside door to this facility?"
"I told you. I hadn't knowledge of any such notice."
Demont took him outside the chamber, down a hallway and opened the door in. Much to his surprise, though coming in the door a few minutes prior, there wasn't the notice clinging to the glass. "Hmm," he thought. Even though it slipped by him on his way in, he knew it hung there when speaking with Scott and Noah.
"What notice?" Dillon replies, thinking he has the situation aced.
"My mistake," Demont says, even though he knows he is in the right, that probably Li had torn the sign down, carefully removing the scotch-taped edges. "However, we have the issue of you taking punishment into your own hands. Did you know security personnel would need to be interviewed, sign documents which allows a security officer to follow through and delve out punishment?"
About to enter the room, whereas Dillon thought he handled things cooly, he suddenly felt his heart rate accelerate, a sweat come over him. As soon as he walked through the door, he swung around, slamming the door closed behind him.
Only problem, Demont's big, sturdy, fist-fucking hand was there to catch the edge and pushing it open, saw Li running towards the other side of the room, right past the two ranch hands he was `punishing'.
"Oh no you don't, you little shit!"
Stripped to the waist, Demont was able to grab the back belt area of Li's pants, the Egyptian's big hand and amazing strength pulling a hand right off the knob of the door, pulling him with such force, Dillon fell right on his ass.
Next to him, on the floor, was the wooden mallet. Picking it up, he tried to attack Demont.
Rather than back off, Demont walked confidently forward. Grabbing the rubber part of the mallet, he used it as counterbalance, bringing Li to him, his other hand balled up in a fist, connecting with Li's abs. He knew he had Li licked, picking up some rope and after pushing Li's chest to the floor did some old-fashioned wild west hogtying.
Even though he's played with willing victims in a dungeon setting, Demont had never confronted one under duress. First on his mind was to call for help, which he did, pressing the buzz number, as 911 would be in the real world, star 69' was used to call out the calvary.'
Going back to the two in bondage, he at first wasn't sure who to tackle first. At least he could remove their ball gags. When he did, Justin only moaned. Chris on the contrary, complained of his ass being so, so, excruciatingly sore.
"I've called for help. I'm not sure if I should just pull it out of not."
There were tears in Chris' eyes, something which really moved Demont. Sure, he's had some intense moments at the `Bear and Grill', but none could rival the real life experience he was going through now.
Probably because it was Demont making the call, security and medical personnel were there within about three minutes.
First on the scene was Gene, an off duty EMT, closest to the scene and picking up the buzz emergency on his cell. Right behind him was Trystan, Demont's buddy from the Harrellsson building.
First words to Trystan was, "Get him out of here and don't let him out of your sight!"
One thing which amazed Demont was the take charge attitude of Trystan, getting Li on his feet, after `un-hogtying' his ankles and using force to vacate the room. Like on the outside world, the Miranda Rights counted when making an arrest and Trystan was reciting it word for word, right into Dillon's ear.
As for Gene Kowalski, the thirty-two year old bear went right into action. Unfortunately he had just come from a tag football game, had a grimy shirt on and not wanting to cause infection, chose to strip it. Taking charge too, after checking out Justin, told Demont he could carefully loosen the winch holding his arms above his head. Gene had already figured Justin almost out of it, so didn't think taking off the nip clamps would bother him. He got little reaction, which told him Justin was in bad shape.
As Demont released the winch slowly, as suggested, Gene stood in front of him, catching' the eighteen year old in his arms. Maybe it was fortunate Gene responded, Justin's average bod cushioned' against Gene's beefy front.
Justin falling over Gene, it was at this moment more EMT and security flowed in.
Keeping his cool, but still upset over the whole ordeal, Demont yells, "What fuckin' kept you!"
None responded, very well knowing maybe Demont could be right. As with other areas of Elemental Habitat, there was always room for improvement. Too, they had a situation and now wasn't the time for questioning orders.
When those heard of Demont telling Trystan to take the new' prisoner away, half of the security personal fled. The real' jail was beyond the outside perimeter of the habitat indoors area.
Meanwhile, other medical personnel took over for Gene and soon he was without a patient, free to stand by Demont, asking, "Anything I can do?"
"You've done enough Gene," Demont patted the EMT on the right shoulder, reaching around his back with his right hand, then leaving it on Gene's shoulder.
It felt good to Gene, but more liked the trust instilled in him. He mentions, "Both took quite a beating... and the other stuff done to them. What do you think happened?"
"I honestly don't know Gene. We'll only know the details in the coming days, unless Li chooses not to cooperate."
"What happens when a guy is arrested?"
"Another mystery Gene," Demont replies. Seeing the EMT's getting ready to transport, roll the two out on the gurneys, Demont walks over to the one with Chris attached.
Before he can say anything, there's Gene, like an interpreter, asking, "How bad is he, Desmond?"
Since Gene was there, Demont allowed him to do his bidding. However, he was not impervious to the teen's predicament, fluffing the blond hair out of Chris' face, saying, "Take good care of him. I want to know day or night if anything changes with his condition and oh, I didn't take notice. What was lodged in his ass..."
Desmond, tanned and adorable replies, "We left it in. We're not sure hot wide it is on the other end. Sorry," he compassionately says to Demont.
Locking eyes briefly, Demont says, "I want you there at his side, Desmond. You let me know."
"I'll get the proper clearance," Desmond replies. "You can count on me to see him through."
Three times, when Desmond was helping to take Chris out, he turned to look at Demont.
However, if Demont didn't have a similar attraction, he would not have caught Desmond's glances!
%
"Umpffffffffffff!"
"Oh my god, Patrick!" Denis yells.
All afternoon the two palled around the habitat, Patrick as Denis' personal, showing him almost every nook and cranny. Some of those nooks, like right around the corner from the section housing hydroponic gardening, a flaw in construction created a windowless cranny, commonly referred to as lover's nook'. They stopped there for a little innocent lovemaking, until Quentin Hillman happened upon them. Fortunately for the two, Quentin wasn't on duty, but if he was, informed them he would have given them a warning. For their knowledge, minor infractions, like Lover's Nook wasn't a major offense and since Demont had instructed security to be a little lax, he offered a smile instead of a father's sermon' for each.
At the end of their day, they wound up in the game room. Pool was one of the favorites of The Cowbulls. Through them Patrick was learning how to play. Passing his understanding of the game along to Denis, he didn't mean to be in the way, just as much as Denis didn't mean to draw the cue stick back with such force, it would target Patrick's stomach in the fuckin' way!
Bent over, holding his stomach, Denis says, "I'm so sorry Patrick. Are you like, okay?"
They started out as a duo, but right at this unfortunate moment, the rest of the band walks in, Flick shooting his big mouth off, "Cool, Oak! You and Denis playing for gut-punches?"
"Gut-punches?" Denis replies in question form. "I accidentally hit Patrick in the stomach with the big end of the cue stick! He's hurtin' real bad."
"Baloney!" Seanie yells out.
Flick adds, "Are you kidding? With all that padding Oak has?"
Slowly Patrick stands up, Denis responding, "I hope I didn't hurt you?"
"Not much," the gingered hair cub tells.
Ontario, walking over behind Patrick, grabs his arms, pinning them behind his back, "Why don't we show Denis here what you can really take, Patrick?"
"Lemme go, Ontario!" Patrick wiggles about, shaking off the bondage of threaded arms.
They were always playing for some kind of stakes, whether it was trading off gut-punches, blowjobs, the occasional fucking, instigated mainly by Ontario and little stuff, like the loser having to do the winners laundry for a week.
As for Patrick, "Will you guys shut up about that stuff?" he didn't want Denis to think he was weird because he did weird things.
The remaining clan of band members helped themselves to the pool table, Denis asking, "So, what's this all about, Patrick?"
"Nothing really. Just stuff we do together. At first all I wanted to do is fit in with the guys, but... well it's not like we do stuff to hurt each other," Patrick tries explaining without making Denis get the wrong notion and tear out of there, never wanting to lay eyes on him again.
"I know this sounds like deep stuff, Patrick, but I was kind of liking you. I'd like to keep hanging around with you," which in the eighteen year olds mind, meant a boyfriend relationship, "I don't think we should keep secrets from each other."
Sketchy about the subject too, Patrick asks, "What if I tell you something personal and you decide you don't want to have anything to do with me?"
"My brother told me, in this world today, you gotta let a lot of stuff go over your head. I'm not really sure Patrick, but I think," the two sitting it out, Denis places his hand on the hairy forearm, "we shouldn't be keeping secrets from each other."
"Wow, that's deep stuff, Denis. Almost sounds like..."
"What?"
"I never had a boyfriend before. I suppose I was keeping it a secret that I know a lot about pool and I don't. I was trying to get close to you and maybe I shouldn't have gotten my big stomach in the way."
Smirking, Denis says, "First of all Patrick, you don't have a big stomach."
Lifting his shirt, it wasn't carved out abs, slightly rounded, his ginger hair swirling around his bellyhole.
Denis tells him, "You're not fat. In fact I like your stomach. I like all of you!"
Drifting, his eyes scanned up Patrick's bod, till the reddish hair disappeared under his shirt, at which time Patrick covers it up.
"What I was saying about secrets... well, I don't think this really can be classified as a `secret', but something we haven't gotten to talk about yet?" Denis says nervously, as like Patrick, learning something weird about the other, could cause a rift in the relationship.
Left with a question mark, Patrick figured Denis wanted to get it off his chest, "Want to share it with me?"
Denis sat back in the plastic and metal chair, wiping both hands over his face as if he just washed it.
"If it's too personal, Denis, you don't have to..."
"No," Denis drops both hands to his lap, "it's... the truth is," he takes a deep, deep breath, "I got mixed in with the wrong crowd at school. From there I met this dude on the internet, `Brad'. Twenty years old, he was in college. He took me to his dorm room one day and we had light sex. I sucked him off. He wanted to fuck me, but I told him I wasn't ready. Truth is, I didn't think I was the type who liked to get fucked. Anyway, one thing led to the next and one time, Brad drugged me, was paid money by two other guys who took me to a cabin. From there I was stripped down, bound by my wrists and hung from the ceiling. When I came around, they had their fun torturing me, but before I was rescued, they took turns raping me."
At first, Patrick sat there, his jaw dropped open, then slowly saying, "Like, oh my god, Denis!" With the feelings of concern, sitting at an angle, Patrick leans over from his chair couples his hands with Denis', "I'm so, sorry this happened to you."
"It's okay. I'm mostly over it now, because my brother made me go see a shrink."
With more concern, Patrick says, "And here we've been making light of things, when you... Denis?"
"What?"
Sometime tonight, Patrick was going to tell Denis how he felt about him, but right now seemed like the right time, leading in with, "I'm not sure how to go about this, but I'd like to help you make sure that doesn't happen to you again?"
Denis, figuring things out quick, "That would mean you would have to be around me a lot."
Exact meaning, Patrick replies, "Uh, yeah, I suppose that's a good way of putting it, if you want to?"
"Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh fuckin' yeah! Who's the man? Who's the man?"
Watching Ontario lift a cue stick up towards the ceiling, they all stop the celebration for a moment, the twenty-one year old having to pull the tip out of the corky ceiling tile!
In doing so, Ontario announces, "Who's gonna be first?"
Denis, getting wind of the unusual stakes, asks, "What are they playing for Patrick?"
"I dunno." Calling across the room, Patrick yells, "Hey guys, who's doing what?"
Ontario confronts the pair, "Oh man Oak! Too bad you weren't playing. You don't get to kiss my balls!" He laughs his ass off, turning around, "Who's first?"
"I'll go and get it over with," Seanie volunteers, not which he really minded!
Turning back around, Ontario unbuckles his belt, upzips and allows his jeans to flop down over his thighs. Taking the elastic of his briefs, he stretches it down, over his 8c and nutz, parking it right under the two orbs, which seemed to make them look bigger than they were.
"Here, let me get that out of the way for you, Ontario!" Flick says, picking Ontario's cock up by the head.
"Thanks for pitchin' in, Flick!" Ontario laughs.
Thinking on Denis' ordeal, Patrick asks, "If this is all too much for you Denis, we can split?"
"No, really it's okay, Patrick. This isn't like it was up at the cabin. I trust you guys. Besides, I know you're only doing it to have fun."
Lightening up, Patrick says, "Yeah, well things could get a little horny. You don't know how Seanie loves to tantalize a man's balls!"
True to Patrick's words, not only did Seanie kiss Ontario's balls, but stuck out his tongue and licked. One lick led to another and soon sucking came into play.
"Oh fuck, Seanie!" Ontario crooned.
Though, the ball-sucker was only part of the equation, Flick spitting on his hand lubing up Ontario's 8c in order to stroke it up nice and thick.
As for the others, it was too hot a scenario to allow to go to waste, the sound of zippers unzipping.
"Um, I think I'm having a reaction?" Denis says to Patrick.
Patrick says in a comical manner, "Did you do that or did your cock react on it's own?"
"Probably both?" Denis replies.
"How about we go someplace and I'll take care of it for you?"
Up until now, Patrick had his qualms about whether he would be destined as a top or bottom. Of course, part of the pool challenge he once had to suck Jeremie's cock and liked it, plus over the course of college studies, not impervious to meetups in dorm rooms, being versatile enough to often be the `favorite' guy. He didn't have the tallest timber in the forest, leveling out at 7c, but guys sure loved being poked by a fat stump!
All of them `very, very' busy, none of them noticed Denis and Patrick get up and head for the door, except when it was open and upon their departure, Ontario happening upon opening his eyes, seeing the two vacant chairs, turns his head, "Hey, aren't you guys sticking around for the fireworks?"
Patrick didn't think he needed to respond, Ontario dropping his head back, lips forming a little `o', him rendering, "Oo-o-o-o-oh that feels so fuckin' good, Seanie!"
As for Jeremie and Provo, they slowly stroked themselves to the sounds of sucking, Flick single-handedly unbuckling, unzipping and appeasing himself.
Closing the door, suddenly it opens, Patrick yelling into the room, "Guys! The cops!"
"Oh fuckin' shit!" Ontario calls out, backing up, popping a ballsac out of Seanie's mouth, breaking the hold Flick has on his hard shaft, grabs his briefs and stuffs his junk back into the center pocket of his pants, complaining, "Oh man, I hate it when..." When he's so, so big and has to force it all back into a cramped space.
All the rest follow suit, the sound of zippers and belt buckles. Hastily, cue sticks are tossed around so all are holding one.
"Hey, Seanie," Ontario reminds, "don't forget you still owe me one!"
%
Two things about Thor, Nolan found as superlatives, him being very intelligent and the other, able to carry a conversation, laced with sexuality. Sitting at one of the tables in Atlantis, Thor was off duty and assigned his favorite waiter to `their' table.
Nolan found it comical, anytime Thor wanted something, his hand would shoot up in the air, make a `snap', which couldn't be heard over the big bass speakers, anyhow the same waiter would come flying over. Funny part, sometimes Thor would do it for the hell of it!
"Still light on his feet!" Nolan says after Thor pulled the same scam twice.
Laughing, a product of putting it over on Vincent Zabatino, Thor shows sudden seriousness, "Oh, well you should see him with a whip in his hand!"
It opened up on a new subject, but also, watching Vincent, standing near the bar and apparently on edge, Nolan replies, "Oh really? I never would have guessed."
Probably no one else would either, Vincent standing a short man, one would never guess the power a `shorty' could wield over a guy, flogger or strap in his hand. He might have been 5'9, but toss those numbers around and imagine how Vincent could stand behind a man and almost drive him to tears! Too, the black rimmed glasses might throw a guy off, wondering if he stood behind a man, or preferred bending over in front. Though, the close-cropped beard did seem to age his twenty years somewhat.
"I like the spike!" Nolan opinions.
"I didn't notice," Thor replies. "Was he like, really hard?"
"No, dummy! I meant the spike through his eyebrow?"
"Oh that. Yeah, but personally, I like the little barbells through his nips. You know he trims his chest just so they don't get buried?"
Nolan fakes exclamation, "No-o-o-o-o-o!" Thinking about it though, "Not that I was paying attention that much, but they did look tasty!" He laughs.
Up went Thor's hand and in no time and for the umpteenth time, Vincent appears, in his sleek black pants and bow tie, his natural frontal fur for a shirt.
With a cutesy inflection, Thor says, "Vincent, Nolan has taken a liking to the barbells through you nips!" he laughs.
Frankly, Vincent was tired of the racing to and fro. He had a lot of patience, but enough was enough. However, instead of taking it out on Thor, he says to Nolan, "Then why don't you show me just how much you like them?"
Nolan looks up at Vincent's face, gives a quickie glance to the twenty year old's nips, then around the side of Vincent's bod, staring at Thor, "Is he for real?"
Neither Nolan, nor Thor thought it rude of him, yet the power of alcohol, its hold on them, they weren't so smart enough to catch on to Vincent getting tired of Thor's `game'.
"Ask'm!" Thor replies, taking another sip of his beer.
Licking his lips once, Nolan asks, "They don't ever get rusty, do they?"
"I leave them in when I shower," Vincent replies as he makes use of the pitcher of water he has.
With inside information, Nolan asks, "I hear you're quite good with a flogger?"
Beforehand, Thor neglected to mention Nolan's position, Vincent thinking him possibly one of the new scientists brought on board. If he knew Nolan to be the new VIP on the block he might have kept his comments to himself, instead, "I charge fifty credits, deposited into my account at the credit bureau, one day before we meet up," spoken with no nonsense, conviction.
Thor was about to say something, Nolan's hand in the position of a stop sign.
"Is that a package deal?"
"Only whipping," Vincent answers in all seriousness. "If you want to get fucked, 25 credits. If you want to suck me, another 25 credits. Anything else is negotiable."
"Oh my," Nolan carries on the charade, "I better think about getting a part time job!" he laughs.
However, Vincent, when it came to business he acted out like in deep thought.
"Pretty stiff fees," even though Nolan was feeling quite stiff under the table, wanting to jump at the offer.
"I do have alternative rates for group participation, if you can get two or more?"
Right away, like something snapping in his brain, Nolan thinks of Hewy and Geoff, saying, "I think I can arrange it. When?"
"Only time I have free this week is tonight, after I get off from Atlantis."
Like a little kid, Thor sticks his two cents in, "Am I invited? You know how I like it when you use your crop on my pecs?"
Nolan had to laugh, Vincent turning to Thor, and like their waiter controlled the scene, "You're such a wimp Thor." Turning back to Nolan, "He can't take but one thump of my crop on each nip."
Nolan replies, "I hear a flogger on a guy's back can feel like a sensual massage? You give that kind of whipping?"
"If you want a massage, call a masseur. I start out light and work up to a nice sting. If I think you can take it, I'll pour it on."
It was turning Nolan on, hearing about it, but knew he would wimp out like Thor's nips, if the flogging turned to stinging. Too, not knowing Vincent personally, he wasn't sure about the trust, a virtue of faith in what he was doing and would he be fair. Then again, if Hewy and Geoff were there he would have nothing to worry about, so relinquishes, "Tonight's good. What time?"
"I get off at midnight, unless Thor does cleanup for me?" Vincent looks over his right shoulder, down at Thor.
Feeling like he's holding the cards now, Thor replies, "I suppose I could, if you could waiver the fee for fucking?"
The serious manner Vincent composed himself with never wore off, telling Thor, "Can't promise. You have to take your chances. If I find a hot ass I want to fuck, you're out of luck."
It was decided, Thor cleaning up for Vincent, Vincent getting off at ten, instead of midnight. His next question is, "Which residence are you in?"
Here was the clincher, since the place Nolan and Hewy called home, was one of a kind, "I live at the `ranch house'."
Suddenly, the tough facade started to break down, Vincent sweating it, sticking a finger in the elastic of his bow tie and venting, "Ranch house? But isn't that where..." he left his response open-ended.
"Whatever," Nolan replies, getting up from his chair, "but we've made a done deal."
"But, that would make you..."
Still smiling, like he was the master over Vincent, Nolan replies, "Thah-h-hat's right!"
"Oh the, I don't know."
"What don't you know Vincent?"
Thor had disappeared, wanting to get a jump on the cleanup, which would mean he would have to work to keep up with the dirty mugs floating back to the bar and tidied up the garbage, all the things necessary to close down Atlantis for the night and be ready to open tomorrow without a hassle.
Vincent stood there, tapping one foot, lost for words.
Patting Vincent on the shoulder, Nolan says, "See you in about two hours, Vincent!"
Turning back to the empty table, there's Edd Faisal, who worked for one of the bike'n'hikes, but moonlighted at Atlantis for extra credits.
"What's up, Vin?"
"I think I'm in trouble," meant not real trouble, but making the wrong decision to be brazen to a guy he didn't know.
"Trouble? You in trouble, Vin? Nah! As long as I've know you, you never let any guy intimidate you?" the 6'1 twenty-eight year old replies, scooping up plates and placing them in a tub.
"Not if you knew who I just propositioned for an evening of `our' kind of entertainment, Edd?"
"And who would that be?" Edd acts cool, calm and collective.
"Only the guy who is the CEO of the habitat? I might as well start packing!" Vincent replies, showing an edge of nervousness.
"Wait, before you lose it, Vin. Does he know up front what you are going to be there for?"
"Flogging and get fucked, sure!"
"So what's the problem. He knows up front what to expect. Regardless of what position he holds, it doesn't make him different from any other man."
"I suppose," though Vincent wasn't thoroughly convinced.
"If you want I'll come along?"
Normally, Vincent would want all the action to himself, unless he secured extra credits for Edd to tag along. It's something he didn't mind at all, because when guys saw him walk in with this tall muscle bear, sporting a nearly ten inch fuck tool, they knew their credits were going to be well spent. Aside from this, Edd could play a real hot dominant top. In fact, Vincent had picked up some pointers which made him a sought after top, not just because he sported a thick 8c!
Rushing back to the Ranch House, Nolan getting in the front door, realizes the big news he was bursting with would fall on silence, Hewy not at home. Right away he digs his cell out of his pocket, tapping the keys: 458.
"C'mon... answer...answer," Nolan acts nervous, like he had to tinkle and didn't have a jon to report to.
Hewy didn't pick up, but in his hurried state of excitement, Nolan quickly lay out the facts, hot dominant top', at our place', in two hours', into whipping and fucking', all the important facts laid down by Vincent.
About five minutes later, when Nolan was readying himself for a shower, Hewy calls back and not only informs Nolan of it sounding really hot, but Tommy wanting to come along!
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Reporting back to his quarters in the security shed, Demont opens his door, expecting to find Heath and Marco, with extended arms, still tied up in bondage.
Instead, they cozily were untied and lying in bed, in each others arms.
"Oh that's right," Demont remembers, having let them down, because he didn't know `when' he would be back and that being the case, did not want to have the circulation cut off around wrists, nor balls.
As he stripped off his clothes, he smiles, looking upon the two hot lads as if a work of art. He wondered about something though, Marco, a couple of inches shorter than Heath, in height, spooned Heath, his arms wrapped around him like duct tape. He didn't remember any instructions left behind, whereas they had to refrain from making love.
After shucking his clothes, he had all intentions of joining the two in bed, but they looked so peaceful and calm, Demont took to sacking out on the sofa, borrowing the sheet the two were not using for his covering up.
As he lay there in the dark, yawning a couple of times, his attention turn not towards Heath and Marco, but first to Chris, the poor soul and then his savior, Desmond. As time passes, the more he thinks about the distinction, comparing Chris and Desmond to his relationship with Heath and Marco, he discovers two totally different situations.
The startup of his time with Heath and Marco, he decides was `much work'. Everything added up, the wear and tear on his physical and mental capacities, figuring out clever words which would keep the fantasy going, coupled with having to bind up wrists, two consensual victims at that, hoist them up and then intricately working a single lace around a pair of ballsacs, followed by more talk.
Comparing it to what the future could hold for him, Demont speculates on what it would be like starting out fresh, with a man who had no knowledge of his involvement in the sport of bdsm. First reaction, he felt pity and compassion for Chris, but when Desmond entered the picture he saw in his mind a beautiful man, both in physical features and secondly, the charming way he conducted himself in his profession.
These are some things Demont thought about, lulling himself to sleep.
However, it wasn't to last. As soon as his eyes are closed, they open to the sound of his cell phone buzzing.
"Nolan?" Demont answers.
Changing the tone of his voice, answering, Oh?', Really?', Oh,' I see', Demont comes to conclusion, after the last question, "I might just have the solution to your problem," retort to Nolan voicing his opinion over being worked by a flogger, from the massage stage to `stinging.'
Still having an hour to crash, it would take Demont, guessing, a half hour for himself to get up, rouse Marco and Heath out of bed and the three of them all showered and readied for their night out at Nolan's place!
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ThE eND!
Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`CoMPany payLoaD/RancH HanDs - HuNKeR'd DoWN', may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.