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 reflect upon person in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If sexual scenes 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. Don't forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matters'; got condom?
"Out In The Wild, Wild West" 12 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"You make me jealous, Sir!"
As they hit the dusty road, onto their destination, once again, each of the braves, their shoulders fastened to the wooden bondage timbers, paraded along in single file. The only Indian braves excluded from the wooden timbers, had been Ciqala and Tocho. They took on the chore of carrying each end of a litter, containing the numb body of Etu, whom had the been the victim of a gut punching contest, between Chuck and Ben.
Buck felt for the three Indian braves, in their late teens, wanting to help with their burden. Knowingly, if he jumped off his horse and employed himself in lightening their burden, that it wouldn't look right, to the rest of the men. However, since Caligula had made them his responsibility, it's no reason why he couldn't `water' them.
"And the reason for this jealousy of your's, Caligula?"
"James West and how you.... Have him trussed up in his bondage?"
Giving a cynical laugh, Robert Birch replied, "I think we've lost enough time already, with your men in their brawl, Caligula?"
"Hmm.... Yes, well, if it were not for this Indian brave taking so long to break..."
"Haven't I told you many a time, Caligula, that...."
Rolling his eyes, the tall chocolate man, twice as high, up on his horse, replied, like a kid, hearing his daddy tell him a million times, "I know what you preach, sir. Kindness. But it's more fun torturing a man into submission!"
"Don't I know it, Caligula, but there's also times to," then looking down, the rope tied to his stirrup, affixed to the loops at each end of the timber, carried by West, "treat a man with tender care."
"Hmm... if I didn't know better, I'd think you have some inner felt lust for West, sir?"
"Hot ass to fuck and that's where the dividing line ends, Caligula," Robert Birch stated his position.
Caligula could also see where the dividing line between tender and tough stood. Unlike the others, tied in their walking bondage, free to pace along at an even stride, the tall overseer watched as West carefully stepped along. Tied to each of his ballsacs, had been a leather lace. Stretched downwards, the ends of each bound lace tied to the opposite big toe of each of West's feet. If West stepped too far with his right foot, it would stretch his left ballsac too far, crossing the lace of his right ballsac. It was a tough thing for Jim to get the hang of, giving Caligula a good laugh, with every wince of torturous pain.
Unfortunately, he hadn't seen the torturous bondage Birch set up, until they had been ready to mount. If he had the time, he would've followed suit with the ball torture for his own slave, Hastiin. However, Caligula did happen to find a way to irritate Hastiin, managing to quickly attach small weights to his nip rings. As they paraded through the desert conditions, the balls would bounce and swing.
"I would think that your slave's nips are heating up, in this grueling sun, Caligula?"
Caligula looked to Hastiin and gave Birch an evil smile back, saying, "Yes, pity, isn't it."
"Sagging, with the weights, too."
"Oh, not as stretched, as I will have them, believe you me!"
Robert Birch could guess easily, the torment Caligula had in store for his slave. He felt a little bad that he wouldn't be having the same pleasures with James West. Knowing that he would be turning West over to his benefactor, Birch had hoped to have had some fun with Cheyenne or Steve Connors, in Caligula's torture chamber. Too bad they got away. But, he still sensed they wouldn't be too far. Birch, as well as Cheyenne, knew that the government would have a bounty pinned to James West, whatever condition his body was brought back as.
Yes, somewhere out there, we're being followed,' Birch said to himself, in a whisper, as he scanned the horizon, peering to the wooded area. Then he reckoned, Just if they've decided to hightail it out of here, there's....' His lust for dungeonplay fashioned his eyes in a different direction. Looking over the group of braves, he eyed up the badboys, Ben and Chuck. Hmm..' Birch commented to himself, might be fun!'
%
"Nice of them to leave us one horse!" Jake complained.
However, Stormy sensed the situation to his advantage. Right behind him, Jake sat, both arms hugging him, one palm on his chest, the other, his stomach. With each and every step of the horse's hoofs, he sensed something pressing on his ass. Suddenly something felt strangely pleasureable and he giggled.
"Whats that for, Stormy?"
"As if you didn't know?"
"Hey, I'm not tryin' to," Jake left out the obvious, "if that's what yer athinkin'!"
Stormy grinned, pressing his ass backwards.
"Heeeey!" Jake shouted out, dismounting from the horse.
Stormy let out a noticeable whimper, "Oooooh!"
"Gotta take a leak," Jake informed him.
"Um, I heard in survival training that when you run short on water rations, that..."
"Stormy, if you want a drink, go right ahead!"
"Um, don't think I'm `that' thirsty, Jake!"
As Jake dropped his pants, he let loose a torrent of piss. Same time, Stormy eyed up the asscrack, the hairy crevice, wanting to dive right in.
"Heeeeey!" Jake called out, as he felt something touch his ass.
Turning, he got Stormy right in the face!
"What tha! Jaaaaaaake!"
"Oh shit! Thought there'd been a rattlesnake creepin' up on me!"
Stormy stood up. Jake's piss dripped down his chin, onto his shirt, soaking it.
"Now what am I supposed to do?"
"Don't take it off, you'll get burnt to a crisp, Stormy."
"I'm going to be stinking like your piss, Jake. What am I supposed to do?"
Stormy had already started to unbutton his shirt, having it undone to his beltline, revealing his stomach trail and dark treasure trail that led out of his navel.
"Leave it be that way, for now," Jake replied, tucking his own shirt in.
However, when they mounted the horse, Jake took special care to tuck both hands inside the shirt, reather than touch the fabric, with his own piss soaked in.
"Hmm..." Stormy replied, smiling, as he felt Jake's hands on his pecs and stomach. "Nice!"
"Hey, this ain't nothin' compared to how I plugged your ass last night, Storm!"
"Yeah, I liked it too."
"Caint even remember much how it felt!"
"You... you don't remember how it felt fucking my ass last night, Jake? Oh man, I can't believe it!"
"Why?"
"Still hurts from the way you pounded it with your big cock!"
"Funny I don't remember. I bet it felt good to do it. I mean, the way yer talkin', Stormy."
Oh, did Stormy know how good it felt! Yes indeed, did it feel awesome, having Jake's snake in his hole, only to hibernate, til morning.
"Whoops! My turn!"
Stormy swung his leg overboard, jumping down to the ground. Only thing is, he didn't inform Jake, giving him enough time to unhand him. He flowed right off the horse, knocking into Stormy, taking him to the ground.
"Umphfffff!"
"Well, ya didn't give me much warnin', Stormy!"
"Sorry about that. Um, can you get off of me? Gotta go pretty bad, Jake."
Unknowing, or not admitting, Jake's erection had swelled, after hitting the ground. He wondered if Stormy noticed. Whichever the case, he let his nineteen year old counterpart out from under him, to go do his thing. Hearing the ground getting sprinkled, he also heard a cry.
"Help....yeeeeoooooooow!"
Jake ran around to the side of the boulder, where Stormy had reported, to get his privacy for peeing.
"What in tarnation have you gotten yerself into now, Stormy?"
Standing, with hands on hips, Jake looked upon Stormy, bent over, his pants still down.
"The damned snake scared the living daylights out of me and when I backed up..."
Stormy didn't have to complete his tale. Jake looked upon the white ass, the cactus needles sticking to it.
Laughing, he said, "Ya look like some damned porcupine there, Stormy!"
"Well, you going to stand there and laugh your ass off, or help me?"
The next was a sight to behold. Stormy wound up stripping his shirt, to keep his stomach and chest from frying, as he lay against the boulder. With his ass extended, as if ready for a hot fuck, he instead had Jake plucking cactus needles.
Every once in awhile, Jake would hear Stormy groan, pulling a sharp one. However, he got to thinking about what was said a half hour ago. With each touch, his cock reacted, growing bolder in size.
"Hurt ya, huh?" Jake asked him.
"Sometimes. Depends on which one you pull out."
"No, ain't talkin' about that, Stormy!"
It then dawned on him what Jake insinuated.
"You remember now?"
"Not too much, but ya say it was like poundin' yer ass?"
"Yeah and man did it feel good, why?"
He didn't really need a reply from Jake, as Stormy looked behind his back. It had become so obvious, the bulge tenting Jake's pants.
"Man, if I didn't have those thorns in my ass, I'd help you get rid of that, Jake!"
After saying, "I'm thinkin' I got all of `em out," Jake blushed.
"Wouldn't want you to `sprain' anything, riding up on that saddle, Jake!" Stormy make the indirect suggestion.
"I dunno Storm. Never really fucked a guy."
"How can you say that, Jake? You fucked me like hell last night!"
"Reckon I did, but don't remember it. Ya know what I'm sayin'?"
Rolling his eyes, Stormy replies, "But you liked it, Jake. Take my word for it!"
"I did, did I?"
"Don't take my word for it, Jake. Just do it?"
"Out here, in the desert, Storm?"
"Nobody paying attention, but the snakes and other critters."
"Ya really want me insida ya, huh?"
"Um, yeah, but if you don't want to...."
Jake wanted to. He wanted to more than he wanted to admit, now that Stormy had put the thought in his mind, `it felt good'.
%
"Whoa...whoa...whoa," Buck pulled up the reins on his horse.
"Leave'm, Buck."
"He's a human being, can't you see that, Carl!" Twenty-four year old, Buck Johnson, held up the walking and riding brigade.
Looking back, he noticed the toll of carrying the stretcher with Etu's body on it, affected the two parched, barefooted braves. Not that their ordeal had been that much more of an ordeal than those carrying wooden timbers, lining their shoulders, baking in the hot sun, as they traipsed onward. However, it's Tocho whom lost control of one of the poles, being too much of a strain on his left side, as he carried it more behind his back, than Ciqala, in front of himself.
"Well, you going to help me, Carl, or what?"
Carl Rentfield, had been the only man who sided with Buck, on salvaging the Indian brave. The others tried convincing Caligula and Robert Birch that their flight through the desert, desert sun, desert heat, would be much more at a quicker pace, if they had left the Indian brave behind, fending for himself.
"I don't know why I put up with you, Buck!" the thirty-eight year old replied, jumping down from his horse, to help.
"Because, maybe you have a soft spot, in here," Buck slaps Carl on the left pec.
"Get yer hand off me," Carl replied, brushing Buck's hand away, with the notion. "Here," Carl found the remedy, "This Injun can ride with you. I'll take care of these other ones."
Carl stood there, rubbing his chin, trying to sort out a solution to the problem.
"Give me one of yer extra shirts, Buck."
"Huh? My extra shirts?"
"Ya interested in saving yer Injun pal or what?"
Looking to the three braves, one helpless, lying on the damaged stretcher, Tocho, obviously fatigued and Ciqala, the only one `with it', Buck reached into his saddle bag and produced an extra shirt.
"Here," Carl threw it on the helpless braves chest.
Buck motioned for Tocho and Ciqala to dress Etu in it. In the meantime, Carl constructed a lasso out of his spare rope.
"Get up on yer horse, Buck."
Carl went to work, trying to help Buck salvage Etu's limp body. After the twenty-four year old climbed back in the saddle,
"Move outta m'way," Carl told Tocho.
Trying to help get Etu onto Buck's horse, Carl nudged the nineteen year old Indian brave. Using the rope, Carl fashioned a harness, by which Etu would be sitting behind Buck, chest to back, fastened securely.
Like the rest of the Indians, the two couldn't wander, without their timber bondage. However, time didn't permit the construction of the weighty binding materials, so Carl took the lighter poles from the makeshift gurney and lined Ciqala's and Tocho's shoulders, tying them to the braves' outstretched arms.
"Thanks, Carl."
"Yeah, hmm..." he hinted with a slight protest, but attitude of caring, for Buck that is.
Although, he did look at Tocho, with an ounce of interest.
%
Finally, after `wasting' the morning hours, giving J.J. Sebastien a complete tongue bath and getting his asschute stretched, Artemis Gordon lit out for the day's business.
"Good Morning, Grady," Artemis winked at the security guard.
Four had been on duty, at the Washington office of the Secret Service, however Artemis knew to keep their sexual rendezvous' private. Not only didn't Michael Grady wish his private life known to the others, but surely meeting with another man for sexual gratification, would filter back to his wife. Besides, the twenty-six year old enjoyed the position and added monetary means, his affair with Gordon bestowed upon him.
"Good morning, Mr. Gordon," he replied, a slight smile.
"I trust Mr. Foxworth is in his office?"
"He reported for work this morning," Grady replied.
"Very good," was Artemis' response, sailing past the guards and heading inside the three story building.
After greeting a few colleagues, he ascended the stairway, to the third floor. His next encounter had been a young man, sitting at a desk.
"Are we ready for this, Braedon?" Artemis asked the blonde man.
"A bit nervous, Artemis," the twenty-five year replied.
"That'll pass." Stepping behind the seated young man, Artemis patted his shoulders, massaging them, repeating, "It'll be only a matter of minutes, Braedon, a matter of minutes and you'll be able to make the tallies even."
"I know," Braedon replied. "I want to thank you, Mr....."
"Artemis, remember?"
"I want to thank you, Artemis, for all you're doing for me."
Halting the massage, he goes for the director's door, winking, replying, "Oh, you will, Braedon!"
Helping himself to the doorknob, Artemis Gordon waltzes into the Secret Service director's large office.
"Ahem, Gordon?"
Getting up from his large mahogany desk, Arthur Foxworth walks around, to greet Artemis, obviously annoyed at the unannounced intrusion.
"Isn't my secretary at his post?" He looks out, from the doorway.
However, Artemis slams the door shut, before Foxsworth can view the small, outer office.
"Oh he's there, Arthur," Artemis replies, in a squalid manner.
"Ahem! Yes, well what is your order of business, Gordon? I have a ton of work to do today," he inquires.
Settling down at his desk, Foxworth looks down at some paperwork.
"What tha fu....?" He shouts, as Artemis tosses a folder on the desk, mussing up his work.
"Take a look at it, Foxworth. I think you'll find it quite interesting!"
Artemis takes a seat in one of the two large, padded leather chairs, stationed in front of the desk.
As Foxworth skims through the folder, his eyebrows raise and lower. He begins to sweat, running his index finger around the inside of his shirt collar.
Rising, he asks Artemis, "Care for a sherry?"
"No thanks, Arthur. I'd much rather see to having the last page signed and in my hand?"
"Last page?" Foxworth questions.
After pouring himself a small drink, guzzling it, he reports back to his desk. Rummaging through the folder, he spies the last page, the one in question.
He reads aloud, "I, Arthur Foxworth, give this day, November eighteenth, my heartfelt..." then questioning, "resignation? What's the meaning of this, Gordon?"
Getting out of his padded luxury seat, Gordon walks around, to where Foxworth stands.
"Now, you're an educated man, Arthur. I'm sure you can comprehend what that letter dictates."
"My resignation? Why would I want to do such a thing?"
"Hmmm... I take back what I said, Arthur, however, if the information gathered by one of our most vested security members, would slip into the hands of say, your wife?"
"My wife?" Foxworth repeated, looking aghast.
"Yes, let's see, especially the part about seducing your office secretary, presenting forced rape, um...."
"None of that is true. Mr. Murphy and I met entirely consenually!"
"Hmm... maybe we should invite Mr. Murphy in here, to corroborate that information?"
Artemis goes for the adjoining door. He reaches for the knob. Foxworth rushes over.
"I don't think that will be necessary, Artemis."
"Good that you see things my way, Arthur. Now, if you'll sign..."
"Well, wait a minute here, Gordon. Maybe we can work a deal here. I've been meaning to create a new position...."
"No need to do that, Arthur."
The forty-two year old chief of security has reported back to his desk, lifting a piece of paper.
He points out to Artemis, "I'll been working on a new position, for a very valued agent and..."
"I know you have, Arthur. Wasn't it Mark Jamison you were promising that position to? At least that's the man you specified, in your conversation to John Taylor."
"Taylor? How would you know about that, Gordon?"
"You're not the only one that sleeps with Braedon Murphy, Arthur!"
"What tha fu....? I'll have Murphy's ass for..."
"But on the contrary, Arthur, haven't you already taken Murphy's ass?"
Looking more and more perturbed, Arthur Foxworth acts flabbergasted at the remarks rolling from Artemis Gordon's mind.
"This whole thing is preposterous!"
Sideswiping Artemis, Foxworth goes to the door.
Opening it, he shouts, "Mr. Murphy, summon security, at once!"
"And what is it you are going to tell them, Foxworth?"
"That a... a deranged lunatic...ughhhhhhh!"
Before Foxworth could finish his statement, he finds himself doubled up, on his knees.
"Bring Mr. Foxworth back to his office, Mr. Murphy?"
"Yes, sir. Right away."
Twenty-five year old Braedon Murphy hauls Foxworth up from his kneeling position, holding his stomach. The six foot, two inch, hundred and ninety pound man, easily maneuvers the older man's body, guiding him forcibly through the outer door and back into the main office. He sets in into his high back leather chair.
"You.... You're in on this too, aren't you?" Foxworth accuses Braedon.
Of course. It had been a few, fine, loving evenings, in Braedon's apartment, where Artemis Gordon sought out information, learning of how Braedon's menial job, turned into one of the most important ones, serving as secretary to the' most important man in Washington's security circle. He had also learned of how special funds had been siphoned off, to help Braedon's struggling family, Braedon's appointment to the university, free tuition involved, Braedon's little brother following in his footsteps, Braedon's high end living at the' most expensive hotel in Washington and the elegant lifestyle he led.
"It'll be a cold day in hell, before I bow down to either of your crafty plans!"
"Hmm... Imagine what your wife would think, Arthur, if she found out you spent more on your male bitch, than her?"
"This is blackmail! You've got another thing coming, if you think I'll submit to your tactics here, Gordon!"
Artemis signaled to Braedon. Going to the window, the secretary approached the draperies. He tore the binding rope from the long, heavy fabric. It served two purposes, shading their dealings from the public view, whomever could see into the third story dwelling, plus a nice tool to secure Foxworth, in bondage style, to his chair.
"What tha fu....?" He gasped out loudly, as the doubled rope formed around his upper chest, then secured tightly to the chair.
"Um, Braedon, we need for Mr. Foxworth's right hand to be free?"
Effortlessly, Braedon plucked the right arm from inside the loop. He then fastened the body securely.
"Now, Arthur, you may sign, at your own `free will'?"
"This is totally preposterous, Gordon!"
Arthur Foxworth had lots to lose. Mainly, his high paying, most influential position, in all of the land, other than that of the government offices, at the top.
"Mr. Murphy?" Artemis questioned, directing Braedon into action.
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Foxworth screamed out, as Braedon's large hand grasped at his pubic region. "Akkkknoooo!"
A waving hand ceased the ball crushing action.
"Ready to sign yet, Arthur?"
He hesitated, looking up at the blonde, whom he had bedded on several occasions, then back at Gordon. His stuttering hand cost him.
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkooohhhhshiiiiit!" Foxworth called out, in pain, as Braedon bent over and took up his position, pressing his fingers together, around the older man's clothed ballsacs. "Alright...alright... I'll fucking sign!"
Artemis grinned, saying, "I knew you'd see it my way, Foxworth."
With reluctance, Foxworth picked up the pen. Signing the document, he lay the pen down. Braedon reached over, folded it and then put it in the envelope, handing it to Artemis.
"Thank you very much, for relinquishing your position. I'm sure I'll enjoy it very much, Arthur."
"You... You, Gordon?"
"Yes. Doesn't things have a way of working themselves out nicely?"
"I should've known."
Before too much chit chat ensued between the two, Artemis rises, to make his exit.
Then, directing to Braedon, "Mr. Murphy, enjoy yourself."
Looking to his side, still tied to the chair, Foxworth watches, as Braedon takes off his dress jacket, tie and begins to unbutton his shirt.
"Oh, I will! Most definitely will do, Mr. Gord... I mean, Artemis?" Braedon replies, complete with the evil grin.
"What tha fuck?" It all Foxworth has to say for himself.
"And Braedon?"
"Yes?"
"When you're done with Foxworth, go down to the pub and fetch John Skinner..."
"Captain John?"
"Yes. He and his men are in town and I'm sure they'll be looking for `some action'?"
With a wink, Artemis takes his leave, his important paper stashed in his vest pocket.
"Oh, and Braedon?"
"Yes, Artemis?" He inquires of the delay, smiling, as he unfastens his belt buckle.
"Don't worry about messing the room up. I'm having it redecorated, courtesy of Mr. Foxworth's bank account?"
"My what?" Foxworth questions.
Laughing Artemis replies, "You should've read the fine print, Arthur!"
%
Continued....
Copyright 2005 T. Luke McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP