The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately 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. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'
"Out In The Wild, Wild West" 29 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Here, I'm putting you in charge, Brian," James West said, handing the twenty-two year old an object.
"I need to go with you, Jim."
Seeing the begging in Cal's eyes, Jim it impossible to take Cal along. It depressed him, seeing the longing.
"Sorry, I can't do that, Cal."
"Dammit, I've gotta get to Braedon. Can't you see that?"
"Um, take it easy there, Cal," Jim stated.
His hand took hold of eighteen year olds hand, as he clasped Jim's shirt, crunched up in his fist.
Opening his hand, releasing the fabric, Cal lowered his head saying, "I'm sorry."
They all looked at Jim, like he was an enemy.
"Shit!" Jim yelled out. But none of the young men lost their fixation at why Jim couldn't take Cal along with him. Even the new additions to, as Jim put it, the `boys boarding school', Brian and Ansel, showed no sympathy, which added to Jim's humiliation.
"Don't fucking start pulling this shit on me guys," Jim told the silent gang.
"Heartless, Jim," Sean finally said.
"Yeah, amigo, I never woulda thought you could do that to a guy," Rico lay the guilt on.
"Oh c'mon guys. I got rules. Rules are rules and I've got to..."
"Fuck the rules," Johnny came out with. "I know'd for a fact you went and done broke the rules bringing me here!"
Standing there, as if facing a pack of wolves, Jim threw up his hands in disgust, saying, "You can't go like that, Cal. Get some fucking clothes on!"
They all witnessed something that, despite their little disagreement with Jim, they all sensed the camaradie developing, as Cal grabbed hold of Jim's jaws with his hand and planted a kiss on his lips, quickly scurrying away to get dressed.
"Thanks, Jim," Sean replied.
He followed through kissing Jim, also.
"What was that for?" Jim replied, feeling his lips with his fingertips, as if feeling out the tingling sensation.
"My cock will thank you later!" Sean winked.
"What's this, Jim?" JJ asks.
"What's what, JJ?"
"What about putting me in charge? I'm the same age and I've know you longer, Jim," JJ pleads.
Rico boldly replies, "He don't leave no cumsluts in charge!"
That sent a roar of humor through the crowd of males.
"Cumslut?" Ansel asks, the nineteen year old turning to Rico for the definition.
Placing his hand forcefully on JJ's shoulder, Rico replies, "Yeah and without my permission, no cum for my boy. Eating all that man-sauce is gonna make you sick, boy!"
"Man sauce?" Ansel prompts the question of the unknown.
"Okay, knock off the jokes. This is serious. That object in your hand Brian."
"Yeah, what is it for, Jim?"
"If there's any problem, all you have to do is push the red button."
"And what happens?" Johnny asks.
"Help will be here faster than lightning," Jim replies, straightening his tie.
"Pardon me for saying so, Jim, but you look mighty handsome in that!"
Of course Stormy took the brunt of their wise ass remarks.
"Thanks Stormy. Now, you all behave yourselves and Brian?"
"Yes, Jim?"
"If any of these rascals step out of line, there's a whole drawer full of handcuffs."
"Wait for me, Jim!"
Leaving it at that, Jim was on his way, leaving his home to his newly acquired brood.
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Voltaire was not at all pleased with the guard's findings. Especially after being awakened from a deep sleep, after the wonderful sex he had with an eighteen year old prisoner. As he reported to the dungeon, he followed the guard that apprehended Peter and Rosario, as they tried to make their escape from the fortress.
"Good man, Hans. I will see to it that you are rewarded."
"Thank you sir."
There had been more than Hans van der Beek's good merits that Voltaire thought about, as he followed the guard to the area of the dungeon that awaited his attention. Voltaire looked upon the bare back, swimmer's build that rounded out the hunk status of the thirty-two year old, leading him inside the prisoner's quarters. A total top, Voltaire kept it to himself that he would submit, in an instant, to the dutch warrior. He smiled, thinking how he'd like to taste the bit of blonde hair that formed in the small of Hans' back, at the beltline. It's not every guard that he had been familiarized with the `hardware', but felt that soon he would have to check out Hans' store of hardware.
"The prisoners as you have requested, sir."
"You have whipped them, as I have directed, Hans?"
"Yes, sir. Fifty lashes a piece, across their backs."
There Voltaire stood, in front of Peter. Both young men hung there by their outstretched arms, void of any clothing. He grabbed hold of Peter's mane and picked up his head.
"Bring them around, Hans."
"Yes, sir."
Bringing a bucket of water, Hans doused Peter first. The cold water aroused Peter somewhat, as well as Rosario. Both men groaned with the pangs of their freshly welted backs.
"Hans, stretch their legs apart and bind them."
"Yes, sir."
Hans ordered two other guards to busy themselves with stretching Peter's and Rosario's legs far apart, tying them to metal stakes, driven into pieces of wood, connected to tracks in the flooring, their purpose being that the victims legs could slide farther apart, until the desired width has been achieved.
"Much too close together, Hans."
"Yes, sir."
Giving the order, the guards took to the floor panels. When one gave the order, both heaved at the pieces of wood. Peter cried out, as his legs stretched apart. He felt like he was being torn in two.
"Excellent," Voltaire replied, feeling up Peter's balls, as they hung freely in the damp air. "Yes, these will be so much fun to play with."
Letting Peter's dangling sacs regain their shape, he moved on to Rosario.
"Chilly in here, Hans. Have one of the guards start up the coals and place a few irons in the coals?"
"Yes, sir."
Immediately Peter's body shook with fear. Its happened more than once that he's heard that order given, followed by a man's chest or stomach being branded with a hot iron. Funny thing was, he didn't as much care about himself, looking next to himself, seeing Rosario hanging there, his heart trying to reach out.
"However it will be quite a sum of time before we reach that point. Hmmm... Hans?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go fetch Dr. Loveless. Perhaps we will conduct a little experiment with my new invention."
Both victims didn't know which would be worse. Right away, Rosario recalled the feeling of having his balls fried by Voltaire's torturous lightning experiment. The pain shooting through his balls, straight up through is body. Then the heat, as if a lighted match being held under his ball sacs. Walking behind both boys, he eyed up the fifty stripes that adorned each of their backs. Then he looked mid waist. Peter's ass was devoid of any hair.
"Guard?"
"Yes, sir," the dark haired guard replied.
"Stretch his ass apart."
"Yes, sir."
With hands on both ass cheeks, the guard split Peter's ass, exposing the pink puckerhole.
"Nice," Voltaire replied.
He requested the same thing of Rosario's hairy ass.
"Nicer!"
"Planning on some ass torture, sir?" Hans asked.
"Hmm," Voltaire replied, looking at Hans' crotch.
"And how big are you?"
"Me, sir?"
With the look of the devil on his face, Hans began to unlace the black leather pants. Voltaire didn't break the stare, looking straight at the already obvious pouch.
"Wait."
"Sir? But I thought you wanted to..."
"Yes and I still do, Hans. However, why don't we take this to someplace more `private'?"
"Yes, sir, but what about these two?"
"They'll still be here when we return in a few hours."
Hans liked the idea of that. Voltaire already got his loins stirring. It didn't phase Hans about the rumors he has heard that Voltaire is a total top. Being in a fucking mood, he surely wasn't going to let rumors cloud his mind.
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Continued.....
Copyright 2006 T. Luke McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.