The following story is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to accurately depict, nor reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. This is fiction. Do not forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matter'; got condom?
"Muscle Jocks For Domination" 15 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"I kind of felt sorry for Jack, back there, Rick."
"The guy's on his way out. I'm actually surprised that Verraros kept him on, after the first screw up with the Nomad-Atlas merger."
"Same here. What made Verraros do that?"
"What? Keep Dunkirk on? What else? He's a good cocksucker."
"No way. You mean to tell me that Verraros kept him on only because of his `velvety lips'?"
"Hee heee... no, there was more. He fell into the same category as me, is what you might say."
"Like I would know what that would be, Rick?"
"The bdsm, Steve?"
"Oh yeah. You didn't fill me in on all that, Rick."
"Steve, all that interested you about last night was `you'."
"So, you going to fill me in, ever, Rick?"
"How about a beer after work?"
"I shouldn't, Rick. I should be home with Matt."
"So, he's got you wrapped around his little finger, has he?"
"No. It's not like that at all, Rick."
Rick could see himself treading on sacred ground.
"Sorry, bud. I didn't mean anything by it."
"I know. It's just that..... Dammit, Rick, I really like Matt and want this to work out."
"Yeah and here I am, a friend, saying stuff to provoke you. Sorry Steve. Really I am."
They pause, to let a crowd of employees pass.
"About that beer, Steve?"
"What about it, Rick?"
"We can make it another time."
"I've got an idea."
"Huh?"
"Why don't you come over later on. Meet Matt."
"I'd like that. What time?"
"I'll give you a call."
"Right and if for any reason Matt doesn't want me to come over, I understand."
"Thanks, Rick."
"No problem."
Suddenly, over the hallway intercom, they hear, "Mr. Kestner dial 210... Mr. Kestner, 210, please."
"Joshua Courson, a voice to die for," Rick states.
"Just the voice, Rick?" Steve replies.
Chuckling, Rick says, "Yeah, well, my gym activity time doesn't coincide with his. Why? Have you seen him 'in the flesh' Steve?"
"I might."
Looking around, not seeing a sole in view, Rick reaches for Steve's crotch, an evil smirk donning his facial features.
"What tha fuck, Rick? Ow...ow... leggo! What do you think you're doing, Rick?"
Literally having Steve by the balls, not enough to really hurt, not like he's used to, Rick tried making Steve submit to his questioning.
"And how did Josh look, Steve?"
"Owww... okay..okay... I'll talk!"
"I knew you'd see it my way, Steve."
"I can't believe you did that to my balls."
"Just joking around, besides... never mind."
Still trying to adjust the package and with eyes squinting, Steve says to Rick, "So, is playing with your balls part of the 'fun' you have with Verraros?"
"Might be."
Steve returned the gesture, going for Rick's crotch.
"Ooooh," Rick sighs, rather with a sigh of pleasure.
Hearing no protest, Steve squeezes harder.
"Ooooooh fuck yeah, baby!"
"Wow! You can take pain like that, Rick? I had no idea!"
"Pain? Shit, Steve that's nothing."
"Nothing, Rick? I had your ballsac in my hand, twisting it, squeezing it. You must've felt something, dammit!"
"Hot. Real hot, Steve."
"Man, you really do like this s&m stuff, don't you?"
"What about Josh Courson?"
"Don't change the subject, Rick."
"Yeah, okay. So I'm into bdsm. Max Verraros is too. We make a perfect match as top and bottom and...it's not like we're the first guys that have wanted to get into Josh Courson's pants?"
Since they had been in the vicinity, rather than dialing, the two let their feet do the dialing.
"Would you believe, Steve, how many times I've seen Josh working out in the gym and haven't caught him in the buff, in the lockerroom?"
"Lockerroom? How about the shower?"
"I've often wondered what he's packin', too."
Rick laughs.
"Hell, I'd like to see more than his hot pecs."
"Yeah, but you've got to admit, the sweat dripping down those hot, dark brown haired pecs is hot, Rick."
"All I know is, Steve, if we don't stop talking like this, when we get to him, I'm going to need another mutual!"
Approaching the glass wall, Advantage Communications' scrawled across it, in huge lettering, the two duck in the door, opening up the unit' part of Communications.
"Ahem!" Rick muses, his eyes pointing out the guy, with whom their choice of words described.
Smiling, Steve, making a suggestion to Rick, at the same time, giving out the double meaning, to Josh, "You need me, Josh?"
Rick bumps Steve's ass with his laptop.
"Oh, sorry `bout that, Steve."
"Yeah, sure, Rick."
"Oh hi Rick. Didn't see you there," the twenty-four year old communications expert says, overriding Steve's question.
Coughing, as if something's stuck in his throat, Steve moves his laptop backwards, lightly pouncing Rick between the legs.
"Oh, awfully sorry about that, Rick," an evil grin included, as Steve jokes with his twenty-six year old bud.
"You paged me, Josh?"
"Oh yes, Mr. Kestner. There's a fellow named, `Sam' here to see you?"
"Oh yeah. Forgot about Sam."
"Sam?" Rick replies.
Nodding, Steve points out the fellow standing on the other side of the marble counter, back towards them.
"Hmm," Rick says, "nice from this side."
"Take it easy, tiger. I'm not sure of his preferences yet."
"It didn't take me long to figure out yours, Steve."
"Yeah, but this here ain't no gay bar, Rick."
"Oh yeah. Forgot about that eensy detail. Still, it's not like I don't find him attractive."
"Could be the uniform."
"Uniform, Steve?"
As Josh called to Sam Metz, the twenty-eight year old turned around, exposing the front of the outfit.
"Oh yeaaaaaah. Veeeeeeery nice," Rick replied.
Cock beginning to pulsate, at the sight of the navy blue shirt, the security patch on the shoulder, cuffs in the little pouch directly above where the ass crevice would terminate, firearm holster, Rick Rhodes marred out everything else. To others about the office, Rich Rhodes, 6'1" tall, swimmer's build, stood as the epitomy of the office patriarch, when devoid of Max Verraros' presence. However, behind closed doors, he sought out the type of man that could drive him to his knees, control him at whim, experience kinky behavior without question.
"Yo, Rick?" Steve, waving his hand in front of Rick's face to break the spell.
"Huh? Oh yeah. So, what's up Steve?"
Josh Courson cackled.
"Don't you have something to do?" Rick scolded the telecommunications guy.
With the weird thing sticking out of his ear, around his cheek, almost touching his lips, Josh smiled, as he went back to his cubicle.
"Sam, meet Rick Rhodes."
"Sam Metz," Sam replied, as he took Rick's hand in his.
"Nice grip," Rick replied.
"Yours, too," Sam replied, gulping in between his words.
That's all the introductions the two needed, according to Steve. Bowing out of lunch, Steve let the two go on their own to the executive cafeteria. He wondered how it would turn out for the two. Maybe later Rick would be coming over, or Rick and Sam both, or perhaps the two would be heading off for another destination. All Steve knew is that he was doing lunch and the gym solo.
Proceeding past the security area, a room invisible to the public, solidly built of metal and stone, he thought he heard something. He was sure something hit against the door from the inside.
Knocking on the door, Steve yelled, "Everything alright in their?"
In a minute's time, a head poked through the door.
"Oh, Mr. Kestner, sir," Paul Vrabel, head security officer replied.
"Everything alright, Paul. I thought I heard something fall against the door?"
"Oh yes. I was trying to reach something on the shelf, next to the door and lost my footing."
"I see. Well, be more careful, Paul. I hope you are adhering to safety standards."
"I am, Mr. Kestner."
Steve tried to look in, as Vrabel exited, his hand on the knob, back to the security entrance. It threw some suspicion into his thinking.
"Well, I've got to get back to work, Mr. Kestner. Lots of paperwork."
Waiting there at the door, Steve expected the middle-aged security expert to enter the office, but he held tight to the door knob and paused.
"Well, yes. It's not like I don't have my work cut out for me, too," Steve replied, lying through his teeth, since it was lunch/gym time.
Leaving, Steve rounded the corner, as if heading for the elevator. Counting to ten, he doubled back. Peering around the corner of the hallway, he saw that Vrabel had vacated his position, either going back inside the office, or leaving the area. Once more Steve heard the sound against the door. Two minutes passed. He then heard the heavy metal door creak, as it opened. Plastering his back to the wall of the unseen hallway, he listened.
"And remember Luis, if I hear anybody coming back to me, telling me you said something, I'll tan that ass of yours."
"Me no say anything Mr. Vrabel. I swear, sir."
Then Steve heard another familiar voice, perhaps of one of the other security guards, threaten, "You talk and we'll give you a good working over you'll never forget. Got that boy?"
"Yes, sir. Luis not say anything. I swear I not."
Taking a chance of looking around the corner, when the door slammed shut, Steve watched Luis walk down the hallway, in the opposite direction. He was moaning, holding his gut. Steve had bad vibes about what he witnessed. Something dirty was taking place here at Advantage Fitness and possibly this eighteen year old could be a victim.
"Luis, you want to wait up there?" Steve waited until the young man had traversed tens of feet.
"Mr....Kestner...sir?" Luis replied, turning around.
Noticing his hand on his front, rubbing his taut belly, he dropped it to his side. Right away Steve could detect something awry about the youth. First, he noticed Luis coming to work, with hid hair coiffed, nicely arranged with a hint of gel. Every hair wasn't in place.
"Um... have you eaten lunch?"
"No, Mr. Kestner."
"How about some?"
"No dinero, Mr. Kestner."
Steve detected Luis wincing, as if he had been barefooted and stepped on broken glass.
"Are you feeling okay, Luis?"
Forcing a smile, Luis replied, "I am fine, Mr. Kestner."
However, Steve could sense all was not right in Margaritaville!
"I want you to come with me, Luis."
"We eat lunch?"
"A short detour before lunch, Luis."
Passing by the Advantage Communications center, Steve figured, if he had a hunch that something was amiss here, there should be a witness.
"Josh?"
"Yes, Mr. Kestner?"
"Drop what you're doing."
"What?" Josh replied, at the surprise command, not out of disrespect.
"Put somebody else in `the chair'," Steve referred to the main console.
Looking at Luis, then to Steve, Josh lost his jovial nature to the more business demeanor.
"Right away, Mr. Kestner. Miriam, on the console, pronto?"
As if a big boss, Josh received the same respect as if Mr. Verraros calling out an order. He surrendered his communications headpiece.
"What's this about?" Josh inquired, flashing his attention back and forth between Steve and Luis.
"I... I can't say nothing," Luis began to panic.
"You have nothing to fear," Steve replied.
Already Steve could see he was onto something big here. When he touched Luis' arm, out of consolation, he winced with pain. Not a man without compassion, Josh took the reins, being more on the same employee plane.
"Really, Luis, you have nothing to worry about. Mr. Kestner wants the best for all of us."
Steve could see that Josh was more than a total asset to the communications department, but had a real heart for human compassion, as well.
"I do my job. I cause no trouble."
Even Josh tried putting his arm around Luis, for comfort, but his forearm on Luis' back made him double up in pain, so he withdrew it.Turning into the gym wing, instead of heading for the lockerroom, coupled with the showers, Steve guided Josh and Luis into the medical office.
"Steve how are you? That knee acting up?"
However, Steve didn't answer, instead closing the door, locking it, then sealed the room from the windowed hallway, closing the miniblinds shut tightly.
"Steve? Something wrong?"
"I hope not Frederic," Steve replied grimly to Dr. Burkhalter, a longtime friend.
The four stood there a moment, Josh and Luis, with Steve and Dr. Burkhalter.
"Who has the problem here? Josh?" Dr. Burkhalter inquired.
"No," Josh replied. Then, knowing that sought after information was needed and from whom, Josh invoked, "Luis, do you hurt someplace?"
Luis, keeping a stiff upper lip, replied, "I feel good."
Knowing that he had to prove a point, but hating to do it, Steve lay his palm on Luis' back, sliding it downwards.
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Luis replied, tears forming, cringing with pain.
"Shit!" Rung out from Josh's lips.
"My God, what's wrong?" Dr. Burkhalter reacted immediately.
Approaching Luis, he walked around the youth, looking at his back.
"Off with the shirt."
"Nooo," Luis protested.
"But Luis," Steve tried to speak.
Instead, Josh held up his hand. Taking both of Luis' hands in his, he quietly spoke.
"Look, Luis, I don't know what's happening, but you hurt. I know it, Steve knows it..."
Nobody picked up on Josh utilizing Steve's first name. Perhaps the twenty-four year old didn't realize it himself.
"Dr. Burkhalter knows. Will you trust me?"
Speaking out, the Latino replies, "Luis scared."
"I know you are," Joshua continued, still confronting the twenty-year old. "If I help you unbutton your shirt, will you take it off?"
"Luis shy," the Latino replied, obviously using it to deter the removal of the shirt.
Then, the three watched, as Josh backed up, loosened the knot in his necktie, then proceeded to unbutton his own light blue dress shirt. Pulling it out his pants, he stripped it off, neatly tossing it on the chair.
"There. I've taken off my shirt, Luis. Will you take off yours?"
Luis looked as if the dams readied to burst. He nodded yes. However, his hands froze on the first button, about three up from his beltline. Steve and Frederic Burkhalter watched as Josh walked over and replaced Luis' hands. Luis' own limbs fell to his sides, his head down, watching Josh unbutton his shirt. First up, then down. Now the first eyewitness, Josh became vocal on what he saw.
"Damn!" Josh voiced his opinion.
"What the fuck?" Steve's observation brought forth.
Luis began to openly weep, as his shirt was peeled back over his shoulders.
"Oh my! Oh my!" Dr. Burkhalter gasped.
As Josh viewed the front of Luis' body, the bruises on his stomach, the redness of his pecs, his nips swollen, Dr. Burkhalter took on the rear view.
"Oh my," He replied, taking the shirt down to Luis' wrists.
Crisscrossing Luis' back, welts appeared. Some dark red, others superficial.
"Please don't tell. They hurt me more."
Dr. Burkhalter says to Josh, "Summon security at once."
"No," Steve replied, simultaneously with Luis' panicky voice.
"No?" Frederic questioned.
"Hold on. Let me think," Steve told them.
Snapping his fingers, Steve picked up his cell phone. What a memory,' he said to himself, dialing Jim Kirk's cellphone, as if he had the paper right in front of himself. Catching Jim, at home, barracks or wherever, he knew he would be intervening with the police officers catch'.
"Jim? Steve Kestner. Great, just great. Listen, I know it's your day off and...."
Looking up and about, Steve informed Jim, "I can't talk about `that' now, Jim. What I need you to do is get in your car and get your ass over to the company and," coining Josh's phrase, 'pronto'!"
After a few seconds, Steve gets more blunt, "I can't explain, but I need you here and now!"
A few more secs pass.
"Look, this is an emergency..." Steve waits a second, then continues, "do I have to spell it out to you, Jim, for God's sake?"
Another interval passes.
"No, don't come in the front. Drive around the back and I'll meet you by the gym entrance. I'll get the alarm taken off. You just be there. Call me from your cell when you arrive."
The connection dropped.
"That wouldn't be Officer Jim Kirk now, would it, Steve?" Frederic asked, his eyes examining Luis, as Josh kneels, untying the frightened Latino's sneakers.
"Same, I believe, Frederic."
Steve figured some kind of connection, as the thirty-four year old doctor smiled, then went back to his concentration.
"How bad is it, Frederic?"
"Looks pretty bad to me," Josh threw his two cents in, glancing around Luis' body. "But don't you worry, Luis," Josh tried comforting him, touching his cheek,"you're in good hands now. You can trust these men."
More in control, Luis replies, "I trust you," to Josh.
Ten minutes pass and Dr. Burkhalter informs Steve that the lacerations across Luis' back most likely had been caused by a leather strap, likely a belt. Upon examination of his stomach, his ab abuse shows a forced workout of fists.
"These welts aren't fresh, but these bruises appear to be," Dr. Burkhalter suspects.
However, the assumptions become fact, when Luis breaks down and confesses about his abuse.
"Men tell me I can't be gay. They hold me and beat me. They say they beat gay out of me."
"This sucks! This really sucks," Josh comments, not reflecting the pretty boy image of the head of the communications center.
"Josh, you want to show some control?"
"Um, yeah. Sorry about that, Steve... I mean Mr. Kestner," He finally realizes.
Winking, Steve replies, "Steve is okay, for now Josh."
"Yeah, okay. Sorry about that, Steve."
"Luis don't talk right now. I have a police officer coming over. I want you to give him your statement?"
Showing Luis' misunderstanding, Josh says with more repose, "You can tell the officer your story, Luis."
Luis' hand latches onto the twenty-four year old bare-chested communicator's hand, squeezing it, along with verbally protesting Dr. Burkhalter's examination.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Luis," Frederic replies, as he touches the tender abdominals.
"Dr. Burkhalter is trying to be soft on you, Luis," Josh tells him.
"I know... It hurt so much."
Then Steve is yanking his cellphone from it's hip case.
"Steve Kestner.... How did you..." Steve refrains from searching for how Jim got his cellphone number, "never mind. Be right there."
Leaving the room, Steve hustles through the center gym, towards the rear door. Normally, entering the gym he would be checking out all the stealth bodies, but right now he has other matters on his mind than abs and asses.
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15 Continued.....
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.