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.
Lucrative Mining Operation 01 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Showtime!" Terence Keren called out, fixing his hair so the black mask would fit over his head.
"I can hardly wait," Ali Hassan replies, already in dungeon drag, the mask covering his head. Only part of his head showing were slots for his eyes and a large, round cutout for his mouth, which encompassed the space between his nostrils, casting a rather thick shadow, built up from the morning, til noon hour. Too, it showed his chin, covered with a close-cropping of black hair. It seemed to match Ali perfectly, what with the Middle Eastern tan, hair cast across his chest, rather thickly in the center. He admired himself in the mirror, planing his hand down from middle chest, sliding it down the thick stripe and over his bellyhole swirl. The skin portion was cut off by the edge of his chaps, but did not obscure the total portion of his pubic bush.
Juan Velez calls out, "Hey, anybody seen my whip?"
"What does this look like?" Judson Shane calls out, tossing it to Juan.
"Oh. My whip. Thanks."
The muscled top says, "You'll be thanking me on your knees next time I catch you leaving it hanging from my weight rack!"
He's seen Judson without a stitch of clothing on, trusting he would not care to feel his tonsils tickled!
"Let's make sure we're all on the same page, gentlemen?"
Contrary to Terence's rendering, they were 'not' gentle at all. Hidden away in the rural countryside, a series of underground, abandoned caverns had been reworked by private funds, for the purpose of taking care of those whom thought they were 'above the law'. Over time, it has evolved for different reasons, which could encompass about any situation involving daily life. Too, their jobs seemed of the elitist category because they worked only certain hours of the five days of the week, off Saturdays and Sundays, unless under rare circumstances and there were times 'the mines' shut down for vacationing. The salary, enough to spend a couple of weeks in Belize, plus living in the lap of luxury, agreed to them all.
For Terence and Juan they took it serious, but to them it was being paid an hourly wage to do a job.
Judson, he loved using 'muscle' to get the job done. Almost daily, as they set out through the corridors of the mine, he would announce, "Okay men - time for another workout!" He would laugh as he flexed his biceps and crack his knuckles.
As for Ali, he was more subdued, quiet, thinking more seriously about what was going to transpire. He had a few routines set up in his mind and, depending on whom he was working with, he would instantly recall plan 'A', or 'B', 'C' or maybe a combination or something completely different. For sure, whatever plan he followed, his cock would be included.
The leader, Terence assigned the rooms as he passes them, "Judson, you're victim is behind door number one," and giving a brief summary, "Billy, twenty-four years old, escaped during the raid on the gang's lair. The police couldn't find him, but the dead couple's brother hired a detective. To make a long story short, the client wants him to feel the pain the couple probably felt in their last moments." Terence hesitated, trying to make out the fine print, "And oh, it says here, make Billy suffer, but not enough to make him...dressed? Geesh this dude has terrible writing."
"Gimme that!" Judson steals the contract out of Terence's hand. "Death! Not dressed you imbecile!"
Handing the paper back to Terence, he studies it a moment, then reports, "Oh yeah, now I see the 'th'."
"Fuck the paper. My cock's aching for some fun!" Judson laughs as he turns the knob on the metal door, letting himself in, shutting the others out.
As he enters, he purposely allows the door to slam shut. In the middle of the room the twenty-four year old is stretched out, his arms parallel to his shoulders, ropes around his wrists and tied to metal hooks, screwed into the wooden columns. He picks up his head, following Judson, who seems to be staring into his eyes, almost down to his very soul. As he comes closer, Billy breathes a little unsteadily, eyeing up the muscular configuration of Judson's bod.
"Hmm, not bad," Judson says, going around the back, a hand on Billy's shoulder, panning over his back, down his shoulder blade and as Judson passes to the other side, over the left blade, remarking, "Hmm, nice and smooth..."
As he makes a full circle roundabout of Billy's bound bod, his head set to following Judson as much as he can, wondering what is going to happen to him. The position he is in, totally in the buff, feet spread wide and tied off as well, he can't get it out of his mind what a bad situation this is going to be.
Standing directly in front of Billy, he asks, "When's the last time you saw the inside of the gym, boy?"
Billy replies with an attitude, "I don't have to answer any of your questions!"
It stimulates Judson to be answered in such a way. Walking up to the twenty-four year old, he says with cool and calmness, "You know you're right. You don't have to say one single word!" And with a smile, Judson draws his elbow back, plowing his fist into Billy's midsection.
"Houghhhh!" Billy cries out, his restraints keeping his bod from bouncing too far back, matter of fact, the ropes around his wrists and ankles making the gut punch more fortifying.
Walking away from Billy, his back turned to him, Judson replies, "That's it. Take your time getting your breath back. We've got plenty of time to rock'n'roll!" But as quickly as he turned away, Judson about faces and slowly takes his time returning.
"I can take anything you have to dish out!" Billy replies.
"Really? Gives me some incentive to pour it on. But let me give you a tip Billy," Judson says, the back of his hand feeling up Billy's stomach, running it up and down the dark brown stripe, putting some pressure on his knuckles, "Before I work you over some more, I'd suggest keeping that core flexed?"
"Core? What the hell is that?"
"Keeps you from feeling this!"
Again Billy's bod ricochets after Judson's fist makes impact, Billy's lungs evacuating, him breathing heavy to get it back.
"Now next time my fist makes impact with your abs, tense those stomach muscles. You'll see what I mean. Ready?"
In between gasps of air, Billy replies, "Fuck you!"
His six feet, two inch tall aggressor can only think how wrong Billy is as he goes to work, repeatedly turning Billy's gut into mush.
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"Thirty-eight years old?" Juan Velez complains to Terence. "How come I always get the older gringos?"
Putting his arm around Juan's shoulder, in confidence, Terence replies, "Oh, but you're going to really like this. Ever here of the show, 'Make Me A Star'?"
"No," Juan replies.
"Sure you have," Ali replies. "Even me has heard of it!"
Terence cuts in, "I can't believe you've never seen it or even heard of it, Juan. The whole globe was talking about it!"
"I watch Spanish Tv."
"Oh well, I suppose it didn't make it to Spanish television. Anyway, before it was cancelled there was a judge named Bastien Lemond and...."
"Oh, Bastien Lemond," Ali replies, rubbing the lower middle of his chaps, "I like that man very much... so how you put it.. beefy?"
"I saw every show," Terence replies. "Bastien was never shirtless?"
"No, but he was on front of magazine and you belive me, he has beefy pecs and... we can take a look, no?"
"No you can't," Juan became insistent.
"So, what's the deal?" he questions Terence, bod-blocking the door from Ali taking a peek.
"According to the client, his son appeared on 'Make Me A Star' and with intent, and I quote, 'Bastien Lemond told my son he should not waste his time going to music school, instead maybe take up garbage collection 101', in other words, the client is saying he ridiculed his son in front of approximately ninety million fans?"
Listening, but not really caring what Terence is saying, Ali says of the whole thing, "After Juan finish, I can fuck him?"
Terence smirked, not saying either way, where Ali was concerned, instead continuing with the client's deposition, "As a result of our client's son being humiliated, he 'went crazy' and is now suffering from depression, on the verge of suicide. So, it's our clients wishes you give Bastien so much pain and suffering it will drive him crazy!"
"You ask me?" Juan asks, standing there in a relaxed position, his left hand resting on his hip where he carries his whip, "The client... he's a little kook-up-the-side-o'the-head himself!" Juan twirls his index finger around the side of his head.
Still, his hand playing with his cock, Ali says, "I'll give the bastard some pain that'll drive him insane!"
"Down boy," Terence says, patting the codpiece of Ali's chaps, which gets slapped away. "And, the client wishes to have it video taped, so don't forget to turn on the cameras before you start torturing him?"
Walking in the authentic styled dungeon, chains hanging for effect, but some in actual working order, Juan walks up to the thirty-eight year old former Tv show host and exclaims, "Yes! You do have very nice, beefy pecs!" He ten walks away after snapping his finger against the palm of his hand.
"What are you doing?" And no stranger to a Tv studio, "You're not filming us are you?"
"Don't forget to smile!" Juan replies.
"Akkk! Akkk! Akkk!" Bastien cries out when Juan tags his nips, giving them hefty mashing. "Sore?" he questions.
"Of course it's sore. What the fuck am I doing here and who are you?"
"Why you are here, Gringo? To sing for me," Juan's eyes remained on the broad chest, with a little dusting of hair, especially around the two small places he played with, slightly a pink glow to his pec spots.
"This is all insane... you're insane!" Bastien exclaims, trying to work at the ropes connecting his wrists, all tied nice and tightly behind his back, his pits over the top of the high back chair he sits on.
Laughing, Juan replies, "No. I am not insane, but the boy you mock... he is insane and before you leave here I will give you clue... you will be in so much pain, maybe you will be insane, gringo?" He followed it with laughter.
Bastien Lemond cursed Juan out.
Turning around, he walked away on deaf ears and when he returned to Bastien's bound bod, stretched up highly, the chair he sat in with purpose to keep his bod upright and erect, curtailing the slouch in his stomach a person normally gets sitting down, in his hand Juan held a riding crop. Standing in front of Bastien, he placed it on his broad pec, toying with his left nip.
"Fuckin' get that thing away from me!" Bastien shouted in horror.
"Gringo, you need to learn some manners!" With that he lifted the riding crop and slapped the little square leather piece right down over Bastien's nip!
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Bastien cried out, stinging pain lingering after the initial whipping of his nip.
"And we make the other side match?"
And before Bastien could think, he was crying out in pain, his arms and wrists pulling against his bindings as he struggled. "Ohh-h fuck! No more! Please.. no more... I can't take it!"
"Just like that boy couldn't take you telling him about collecting garbage?" Juan put it to Bastien, teasing his left nip with the riding crop.
Right now all Bastien could think about is the feeling at the left side of his chest. Too, the visual, the riding crop playing with his nip, all consumed him, dreading what his tormentor was about to do with his instrument of torture.
Outside the door Ali still teased, "Sounds like Juan is having so much fun. We cannot take little look?"
"You know the rules Ali. Once a session has started it can only be interrupted by the dominator."
"If there is still some fight in him when Juan is finished I would still like to bust his ass open?"
And reading over Ali's assignment, Terence had forgotten and it became a factor of persuasion, "How about two asses instead of one?"
"Take me to my room!" Ali says, tugging Terence at the arm, leading him, instead of Terence leading him down the corridor of the old mine shaft.
Terence giggled, but stopped short, careening Ali back towards him.
"This is it?" Ali asks, all ecstatic over the possibility of doing two guys, something which could be common, a client wanting two physically humiliated instead of one. He heads for the door, putting his hand on the knob.
The two got along quite well, so it wasn't uncommon for Ali wanting to rush right into things, usually his cock driving him on, and for Terence to put a strangle hold on Ali and like reading him his rights, Ali's face almost in the paper, "It says here..." At the angle he held the paper and the drop lights from the ceiling of the stone cavern, Terence had to release Ali, but then again blocked entrance to the door.
"That would not stop me," Ali says of Terence's bod filling the frame of the doorway.
"Whatcha want first Ali, you're teeth kicked in or your balls stuck to the bottom of my shoe?"
"You hurry up and read!"
So, with a smile, knowing he 'won', Terence reads as fast as he can, "Thirty-six year old caucasian..."
"Cawk-what was that?"
For once Terence agreed, this client carried things a little two far, trying to disguise his intentions as a police report, "Thirty-six year old and twenty-nine year old cops, one caucasian... white, the other Italian, that's the twenty-nine year old, are accused by the client of coercing his son into running a red light, which resulted in him entering cross traffic, which put an end to his life. In the courts, the cops said they were chasin him after stopping him and finding marijuana... blah, blah, blah... instead of getting out of the vehicle, he took off, the accident happend, the cops were acquitted of all charges," Terence takes a deep breath, "and is seeking retribution."
"Cops, huh?" Ali questions. "I like cops!"
"It also says here, not to do anything life threatening, make them suffer with pain and intentionally try to..." Terence turns the page, "leave marks, so everyday when they look in the mirror they can be reminded of the pain and suffering they gave my son before he passed away."
Snatching the paper out of Terence's hand, Ali says, "As Juan say it, 'no problemo'!"
As Terence walked the hallway, on the way to his assignment, he couldn't help but think how those two cops were going to leave the dungeon with such big assholes!
"Here we go!" he said, turning the handle of the dungeon which would admit him to his assignment. He had read it through earlier, knowing he would be working on an eighteen year old. Too, he always took the easier assignments for himself. However, reading it earlier, Ali's, Juan's and Judson's cases distracted him away from what the questions about this assignment for him. In this business, of carrying out a client's wishes without question, a person had to have a mind which overlooked the details down on paper. In the two years Terence has been employed for the 'mining operation', as it was termed, he hasn't come across a case such as this. Normally they would be working with a client seeking revenge or perhaps a prison term in which they thought the perpetrator didn't serve enough jail time. But being gay himself, Terence had question about the validity of his client's wishes. And holding the paper up in front of the metal door, Terence again tried to
make some sense of all this, questioning himself out loud, "How am I supposed to 'phase' the gay out of this boy?" He further read what he did earlier as he lay on his bunk, "Turn a gay son straight. Use whatever means which is necessary. What kind of shit is this?"
By all means, Terence was supposed to keep every copy of their assignments on file. But this one he crumbled up and tossed over his shoulder. He hesitated, his hand on the door knob, but then figured he better go in and do what he was instructed to do, even though he had no clue how to drive the 'gay demon' out of a guy!
Meanwhile, down the stone hallway, Ali had walked in on the stripped and bound law officers, walked right up to them and asks, "Now which one of you wants to be fucked first?"
As ordered by the client, they were to be found naked, fashioned in a restraining position, gagged so they could not dispute the condition in which they are found, nor the reason for their impending pain and suffering. So, of course, neither could answer. Smiling, because he knew neither of them would be able to voice preference, Ali walks behind Peter Mastriano, the younger of the two.
Since the client had left the bondage position open, it was Terence, knowing he was assigning the two police officers to Ali's charge, Ali would want them in a 'reclining' position. Most likely, as Terence had perused the client's wishes, he figured Ali's preference would be to work over the younger male first. So, with a purpose in mind, he had the older one, Clyde Wiloughby, trussed up in an eagle-spread position.
Peter, the twenty-nine year old was bound with much lengths of rope. His bod was suspended from the ceiling. Over his shoulders and to the sides of pecs, two parcels of multi-strands of ropes were expertly tied, securing his upper bod, each side of his broad shoulders. A crosspiece connected the shoulder girds in the middle, a line running off towards the ceiling. His wrists were tied, anchoring his arms behind his back, his hands at the small of his back. Too, there was question of escape from his bondage, hands in a praying position, forced together by more rope. Legs splayed far apart, two more ropes extended to the ceiling, each originating from the bend of the knee. So to recap, Peter Mastriano's bod hung in the balance of three ropes extending to the ceiling. What this did to Peter's bod is leave his ass wide open and his cock and balls falling towards earth. As mentioned, a leather ball gag kept him from saying anything intelligible. What was he
going to say anyway, hearing Ali talk about 'fucking' and with Ali approaching him first with determination, all the police officer could think about is preparing himself. Although he had knowledge of fucking, from hearsay while growing up and in college, he has never seen a guy fuck a guy. So he didn't know what to expect. Yet, he resigned to his fate, knowing he was about to find out.
Out of gut reaction, when he felt Ali's arms at the bend of his knees, his forearms placed underneath, he squinted his eyes shut out, feeling pubic hair as it grazed his private area.
"Yeah... looks to me like I got a nice cherry to bust here!" Ali spoke with words meant to intimidate.
To young Peter, it was working, his bod breaking out in a sweat. "Argh-h-h-h!" he called out when he felt a finger use his own sweat to poke into his asshole, with natural reaction, arching his back as best his bondage would allow. Good thing he worked out at the gym. If he was of heavy bodyweight it would have been much worse on himself, being he was not touching the stone floor.
"Oh yeah! Oh yeah! You gonna give me tight fuckhole!" Ali played Peter up more.
He wasn't looking forward to it, but when he felt Ali's cock head touch the entrance to his ass chamber he tried squirming about. Too, he wasn't looking for a reaction from Ali.
"You hold still or I make you!"
And he showed Peter just what he meant, taking his big balls in his hand and treating them like hamburger meat.
Regardless of the bondage, Peter screamed around the edges of the ball gag, arching his back and bucking for Ali to relax his grip. Little did Peter realize, his bod rocking about only caused more grief to the tight grip Ali had on his nads.
Too, the pain of having his nuts squeezed was only the prelude to what followed, Ali thrusting himself inside Peter's tight hole. Not only did he stars, but whole constellations as his ass ring was stretched open wide. He didn't feel a hand on his balls, but was experiencing double the pain as Ali's fuck tool ripped him open!
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`Lucrative Mining Operation' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....