DISCLAIMER: This story contains characters who are said to resemble celebrities. There is ABSOLUTELY NO CONNECTION OR IMPLICATION ABOUT THESE CELEBRITIES. Enjoy the characters as they are.
Christopher Schnur died a very wealthy man. No one knew how much money he had, and no one ever would because, well, read on. In addition to having "more money than God," as one commentator had written, he had two sons: Walter and Darren. The two men (now 31 and 28), were as different from each other as night and day: probably because the genes of their different mothers had come through more strongly than Christopher's. There was Walter: dark, with dark eyes, a very heavy beard and moustache, and a compact, solid body. He had been the sole son Christopher and his first wife, Sonja, had sired. Sonja was a dark haired Argentinian woman, and very striking. Her beauty came across in the striking good looks that Walter possessed: think of a young Raul Julia, and you'll have an idea of how Walter presented. It was a combination of Sonja's beauty and Christopher's inherent cruelty that ended that first marriage. Christopher was very jealous: he didn't want Sonja to leave the house. EVER. When she did, he would devise punishments of increasing severity for her. It got to the point where one day, when she left the house, she didn't come back. She took her son with her, and Christopher didn't see him for 18 years. Sonja felt a mixture of love and disgust about her son, and eventually, the disgust took over, and grew stronger when she learned that her son was gay.
She learned it when she heard Walters "school friend" screaming in pain, ran up to Walter's room, and found him whipping his friend with his belt, "for cheating at cards." Sonja contacted her lawyer, and she had Walter shipped off to his father as quickly as possible.
Christopher's obscene wealth meant he never lacked for female companionship, and his second wife, Ingrid, had been a former model and beauty competition winner. She was Swedish, and Darren was the son Christopher had with her. If Walter were solid and dark, Darren was tall, but solid, with very thick, dark blond hair, eyes that could be called hazel, or blue green, or occasionally, gray, when he was upset. Need an image? Think of a young Michael York. Somewhere in Christopher's past there must have been a strong gay streak. Darren was gay too. Christopher found out about it when he came home, heard his son moaning from his bedroom, and forced the locked door open, to find his son being fucked by one of the landscapers. Christopher had a much more open mind about sexuality than his first wife did, and he just laughed. "Try not to make too much noise guys. If you need a gag, let me know." Darren blushed at that. Why did his father have a gag? He found out. Read on. Walter was already living in Christopher's house when Darren's "leanings" as his mom referred to them, were known. Walter hadn't acted on any of his own "leanings" since he moved back to his father's house, but his step mother knew: the housekeeper reported on the soiled handkerchiefs she'd find hidden in Walter's room, and at her employer's instructions, simply washed them and put them back with Walter's clothes. Ingrid truly didn't care. Darren was the "apple of her eye," and she tried to avoid Walter as much as possible.
Christopher saw this, and he also saw the impact it had on his sons: they despised each other. Walter was three years older, but their ages were close enough that the COULD have done things together. They didn't. Even after they had both decided that they wanted to try their lot as actors, they did not share acting studios, or leads, or rehearse scenes together, nothing. They didn't even go to the same high school or college.
That his sons got along so badly frustrated Christopher, and in a moment of perhaps misguided whimsy, he thought that he could bring them together, over ping pong. Yes, ping pong. (By that point in his life, Christopher's once very agile mind was beginning to go. Or maybe it hadn't). He had the ping pong table installed in their finished basement.
"You can have your friends over, of course, but this is designed so that the two of you can play with each other." The minute Walter had the ping pong paddle in his hand, he began to scheme. "Thank you father. I fully expect my friends and I will be using it, because I'm going to kick Darren's ass in any game we play." Darren smiled. "Think so, big brother? I don't." Darren figured that because he was taller, and quicker, he'd be more than a match for Walter. He was wrong. Some of their matches were close, but they usually ended with a sweating, frustrated Darren, and a gloating Walter. One night, when they came down to play, Walter announced his plan. "How about this time, we make it interesting Darren? The winner gets to paddle the loser's.... ass." "I don't think so Walter," Darren answered, and Walter smiled. "I should have known. Of course you're afraid I'll do more than kick your ass. You're only interested in it getting fucked by some of the trash you cruise." That Walter knew, was enough to piss off Darren to the point where he said. "LET'S GO. You can use a good thrashing." This game was close. VERY close. It went to four overtimes before Darren whacked the ball off the table. Panting for breath, Walter smiled. "A deal's a deal, brother. Get those pants down, and lean over the table. NOW" What Darren hadn't admitted - to his brother or anyone else - was that he WANTED someone to spank him. HARD. It wasn't Walter. He wanted nothing to do with that "scuzz" as he thought of him. But hell.. Now his brother was going to have his ass. For Walter, it was all about the conquest, and the beating. He thought, correctly, that Darren was a stuck up snob. When they left for school in the mornings, Walter was usually dressed in some sweatshirt and jeans. Darren? White french cuff shirts, cufflinks from his grandfather, and blue wool trousers. He had started with that outfit at 16, and never gave it up. "WHACK." came the first shot. Walter was not showing any mercy. "One shot for each point. WHACK," the second shot came down on Darren's other cheek. The paddle came down, over and over again. Walter couldn't see it, but with each shot, Darren's dick got harder. And harder. And then, at the final smack, he let out a yelp and shot a load on the floor under the table. "Can you stand up, brother?" Walter was chuckling. "Because if you can, I didn't beat you hard enough." "I can stand up fucker. Next time, it's gonna be your turn." Walter saw the pool under the table and smiled. "We'll play again tomorrow, for the same stakes." "I don't think so." "Fine. Then you won't mind me telling your mom and our dad what happened." Darren blushed. "Ok. Tomorrow. Just... just make sure you hit me that hard again if you win." Walter did. Whether Darren was tossing the matches or not was not something he cared about. He'd go back to his room, and think about one of HIS crushes - and he had many - and masturbate, thinking of how he'd smack them around, the way he smacked around his younger half brother. Life went on like this for a while: the two half brothers went to their different acting schools, carried out their lives, and Walter began to spend time away from home because he didn't want his family to know what he liked, sexually. He only visited boyfriends, and he only went out with guys who wanted to be on the receiving end of rough stuff.
Their lives came to a crashing change one day. Christopher had taken Ingrid to a country lodge for the weekend. Walter and Darren were watching television, when the news about the 16 car crack up on the interstate broke. No one ever really thinks that someone they knew was in one of those accidents. For Walter and Darren, that bubble broke. Both Christopher and Ingrid died instantly.
Mourning followed, and then the legal stuff. Christopher, not surprisingly, had an extremely able team of lawyers, and one day, Ms. Farinetti called the house. It was time to read the will. Could the boys be there? "When he cleaned up," Walter looked really good. He had on a dark blue button down shirt, and a darker suit, no tie. Darren had his usual white shirt and navy blue suit.
The mouths of both handsome men dropped when they heard the will. Christopher had left each of them a sizeable bequest: neither of them would have to worry about working for the rest of their life - but the total was less than 5% of his fortune. All of the rest of the money went to charities that Ingrid had supported. The big surprise, was the house: he left it "in joint and common to my two dear sons, in the hope that by living together, they'll get to know each other better and get to love each other as much as I loved the two of them."
"HUH?" Walter was pissed, royally. "YOU GOT TO LIVE THERE WHILE I WAS STUCK WITH THAT BITCH OF A MOTHER, AND NOW YOU STILL GET IT?" Darren didn't know what to say "Walter, I'm sorry. I didn't have anything to do with this." "TURN OVER YOUR SHARE TO ME THEN. " Darren would have done it, except Ms. Farinetti interrupted. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Walter. The terms of the will indicate that the transfer is inalienable: both of you have to own the house together, or you have to sell it. " "FUCK" jumped out of Walter's mouth, causing Farinetti to blanch. "I'm sure your father knew what he was doing. He was always a smart man. " She rose from her seat. "Two handsome young men like you can certainly find a way to share a big house like that." She moved to her office door, indicating their meeting was over. "Please feel free to contact me with questions. Your father was a good man." She didn't tell them that the platinum tennis bracelet on her wrist was a gift from their father "for services rendered."
"Maybe we should go out for a drink, Walter? Put this behind us? Try to make it work? Play some ping pong?" Walter laughed. "I appreciate that Darren. I'm going to take a short rain check. I need to sort things out in my head. Maybe later in the week." "Sure big brother. You just let me know. You want to drive home, or should I?" "Tell ya what? I'm gonna go for a walk, clear my head, and I'll be back later."
Part of Walter's head clearing included thinking about how he could get Darren out of the house. He considered ideas and rejected them, one after the other. As he sat in a bar, nursing his third scotch, an idea came to him. He dismissed it as foolishness, but it kept on coming back, and each time it went through his head, he liked it more.
That night, he took a couple of photos of Darren: one was his head shot for looking for roles, and the other was a shot that he cropped: Ingrid had taken it when they had gone on one of their last family beach trips. He used those photos in a post he put on several websites that catered to BDSM sexual encounters. He loved his choice of words. "Horny young blond bottom, looking for domination, bondage, the works. Kidnap fantasies are a favorite. Contact me at..." And then Walter gave HIS contact info. If he couldn't get Darren out of the house via standard means, he'd use more creative ones. He posted the ad on four or five websites, and then waited for the responses.
He didn't have to wait long.