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.
PLaY FoR PaY 08 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Arriving without knowledge of the destination Steve couldn't make many predictions of his immediate future. For certain he knew he was in deep shit and with the whole getup, rubber mask over his head, wrists and ankles bound, for the most part he was without his freedom to resist. Finding the vehicle he was being transported to 'who knows where', he was certain it was some kind of van or truck, lying on his stomach to metal. For the most part of his travel, which he could not begin to guess the place intended, it was silent except for the whir of the motor and his own thoughts being batted around inside the rubber mask.
Finally, after about forty minutes of traveling the vehicle stopped momentarily, then proceeded. From the paved highway, Steve felt bumps and gravel spit up from the roadway. Still he had no clues to his fate. Then, it was only minutes the truck stopped. Unlike before, probably because Steve was unnerved over his initial assault, he heard the rustling of a tarp overhead, which seemed to confirm he had traveled in the backboard of a truck.
The sound was faint, but if he could fully hear what was being said, it would not matter. He could not interpret a word of Spanish. But after the talking started, things began happening. Without regard to his welfare somebody grabbed him by the rope connecting his ankles and hauled him out of the back of the truck. If not for quick-thinking, Steve holding his chin up, his face would have scraped bottom, as well as his cock and balls, stomach and chest.
As his bod slid out the back of the truck, he was stood on his feet, which seemed a little shaky. Fact that his stomach and chest had been scraped along the metal surface wasn't as pronounced as feeling his tender organ being dragged under the weight of his bod. No matter, as Steve stood there a wooden piece was placed along his back, at the top of his shoulders. Without full buoyancy, it was easy for them to manipulate his stance, Steve having neither a say or react to them untying his wrists, then retying them near the end of each side of the pole.
Same time they placed more rope over Steve's arms at his pits, they were laughing and joking. Steve wasn't sure exactly their words, but something pertaining to his anatomy as he felt hands at different times touch his cock and balls. "Arghhhh-h-h-h!" Steve screamed inside the mask when somebody slapped a hand down on his cock with a hefty amount of force.
Next part of this harrowing nightmare for Steve, after the cock and ball bashing, he was turned about so his back was to the tailgate of the truck. The pole was forced onto the top bed of the truck and pushed back, Steve stretched so his torso was forwards, shoulders back. It seems, with the joking, it led to a fit of slapping, each man taking his turn.
Again the laughter, the humor at the price of Steve's pain, was accompanied by Hispanic comments which seemed add more fury and frenzy to their play. Being put through the mill, sometimes Steve's cock would be held up, clear of his balls so a fist could pound them. However, as each man, which numbered about eight, had had their fill of beating Steve's cock and balls, took pleasure in punching Steve in the stomach. It became a game, each man given one minute to do what they wanted to Steve, it being understood 'no holds barred' or 'anything goes'.
The fat little cub, Pablo, said in Spanish if he had this 'hombre', this is what he would do! They all laughed as Pablo, instead of following through and using Steve's bellyhole for fist-target practice, reaches to Steve's pecs and mercilessly torments his nips.
Then the worst for Steve, while this guy is tweaking his nips softly, hard, mashing them, giving them a hard bite with his fingernails, one of the other guys thinks it fun to stoke his already enflamed shaft.
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Riding along, Mike observes, "Strange how I've been on campus for two years and our paths haven't crossed?" He said it in a manner which had sexual overtones, hoping to elicit something of the same from his traveling companion.
Looking out the window, Rick bit his lip, uttering a short, "Yeah."
"Something bugging you Rick? I mean if this sudden thing with going out to the cape is bothering you, we can...."
"No, it's okay," Rick said back quickly, looking at Mike and forcing a smile. "Really it is?"
Moving his stick shift to pass through the light which just turned green, Mike says, "If you say so." But Mike knew everything wasn't hunky dory. Like a bloodhound, Mike had the gift of knowing all wasn't right in Oz. Then, seeing a service station up ahead, Mike's hand out the window told the others to keep going. He makes excuse to Rick, "I knew I should've gone before we left."
Not more than five minutes inside the small restroom, which gave Mike enough time to unzip, piss, zip up, check out some 'gay' writing on the wall, wiggle his brows and smile at a phone number left and then proceed to wash his hands, he looked up to see Rick standing there.
"Changed my mind," Rick replies to Mike, question on his face.
"Good, because we've got at least an hour's trip left." With his back to the door, Mike did what he was 'supposed' to do when he entered the jon, turned the tiny lock.
"You can go on ahead?" Rick said without looking, him paying attention to what was seeping into the urinal.
"No. I'll wait," Mike replied.
When Rick turned around, in the process of zipping up, he was shocked to see Mike standing there like a model from a Paul Freeman book, arm against the wall and a handing rubbing up and down his hairy chest and stomach, his lips slowly turning up into a smile, culminating in a toothy grin.
"Huh?" Was all Rick said, like a sixteen year old kid, beset on his first encounter with a nearly naked man.
Being flirty, Mike says, "You like what you see, go for it, Ricky-baby!"
Used to saying it, Rick replies, "Sure.... anything you like." Even though spur of the moment, Rick's balls began acting up right away. "Anything you wanna make me do... it's cool, Mike."
"Make you do?" Mike questions. "I don't want to make you do anything. Just go with the flow, with anything 'you' want to do."
Actually Mike was going at it from a perspective of two men meeting and going at it on a one to one basis. Rick, on the other hand, treated it as if being hired by one of his tricks, whether it be of a strictly sexual nature or involving bdsm, his sole goal, with aim to please. Too, right now for the both of them, outside the jon door the world was a normal place and inside this little room was all that mattered.
"You want me on my knees?" Rick asks, approaching Mike and stripping his tank top off.
Mike replies, "On your knees? Hardly!"
Ninety-nine per cent of the time Rick has been made to get on his knees or punched in the gut till he fell to his knees, or on several attempts at sucking a man's cock, lay on his back, his head dropped over the ledge of a table. So, as he closed in on Mike he started to fall to his knees.
"Oh no you don't!" Mike said, putting his hands under Rick's pits, lifting him up. "I get to taste first!" But more captivated Mike at this very moment, him looking straight ahead and into Rick's eyes.
"What?" Rick asks, because Mike is looking straight into his eyes.
"I know this is a classic pickup, but you've got like, the most beautiful dark blue eyes?"
Rick blushed. Slowly he was being worked out of the submissive mode he's grown to love. Of course, there always was that side of him which wanted a normal love affair with a man. "Thanks," he smiled.
Running his hands over Rick's shoulders, Mike says, "And I love a man with a chest full of hair." Too, he notices what lies underneath those dark, hairy peeks, "Hmm..." he smiles, cocks his head to the side and licks over Rick's left pec meat.
"Oh-h-h-h!" Rick sighs, perhaps a bit more from his early morning experience with his brother's 'gold chain' experiment!
"Sensitive are we?" Mike says.
"Uh, yeah," Rick replies, without going into detail.
For Mike he knew by Rick's answer something 'was up'. Showing skepticism, he asks, "And so?"
"Nothing," Rick says, taking his tank top from the sink and working his arms back into it.
Putting the blame on himself, Mike says, "I guess I was rushing things a bit?"
"No," Rick replies. He's always worried about this, this day coming, when and if he met a man for normal relations, having to either explain about his life built around a fetish or skip the explanation altogether and live a life of delusion, always escaping the truth.
"Well I guess we better get on the road," Mike picks up his pants which were around his ankles, thinking this not exactly the most romantic moment, given the surroundings of something which could allude to a cheap affair.
Watching Mike lift his pants, thread the leather through the buckle, then pick up his tee shirt, Rick makes a decision.
"Hold on a second," he grabs at Mike's tee shirt, keeping him from putting his head through it.
"What?" Mike says, holding his shirt like they are having a soft tug-of-war. With wishful thinking, "You changed your mind?"
"Mike, there's somethin' you gotta know."
Allowing his shirt to drop, it was all in Rick's hands, which also placed the conversation in his court.
What better way for the twenty-nine year old security guard to explain, then to set out the example, take off his tank top he just put on, turn around and show himself off.
"Oh fuck! What happened here?" Mike asks, planing his hand over Rick's shoulder, down his shoulder blade, over one of the many red lines running horizontally. Pulling his hand away from a few welts, "Did that hurt?"
"No," Rick replies even though it did sting a little, but it's what Rick lived for.
Then, with accusation, "Who did this to you?"
Turning around, which made Mike drop his hand, Rick replies, "I know you're not going to believe this, but I wanted it done to me."
"Wanted it.... done to you?" Mike says.
Rick figured, when a guy not into freewill giving and taking of abuse would cross his path and now, with it out in the open he was expecting Mike to escape through the door, bolt for his truck and he would be left to thumb his way back into town.
"I know it sounds weird to you, a guy wanting to be hurt and as far as you and me go, I've probably blown it, but Mike, I can't help it that I got hard over having a guy hurt me." Here it came Rick thought. 'Exit' time! Then he thought the worst, Mike's face changing to some deep, thought-provoking look.
"It's a shame," Mike shook his head back and forth.
"About?"
Placing his hands on Rick's torso Mike licks his lips, saying, "I was just getting a taste of your juicy nip-meat and..."
And Rick didn't know what to say or think as Mike reprised his role of licking over his hairy nip, but taking it further, darting dead center with his tongue, then cupping his lips over it. Then, traversing back up, his tongue swathing a path right up to Rick's Adam's apple, Mike abruptly stops, quizzing, "So? How does it feel for a guy to get whipped on his back?"
Asked in a relaxed manner, Rick replies, shrugging his shoulders, "Good!"
Grabbing his shirt from Rick's hand, Mike unlocks the door and says, "We better get going. The guys are going to be wondering what happened to us."
For now Rick was sensing relief, a result of seemingly acceptance, but also for the fact he wasn't being relieved of his ride and having to thumb-it!
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"What do you think happened to Mike and Rick?"
"As if you didn't know?" John says.
Jac knew and said, to stoke John's imagination, "I wonder who did who?"
Smiling, John replies, "If I'm betting my cards right, Mike's more the leader and Rick the follower."
"Right. I got the same impression, except...."
"Except what?" John asks casually.
"Like us."
"Oh? How's that go?" John asks turning on the road towards the cape.
Like throwing a hint, Jac says, "A little 6-9-ing?"
With a little chuckle, John says, "Yeah. Was nice."
Remorsefully, Jac tells him, "I'm sorry there wasn't more?"
"There didn't 'have' to be more. I had a very nice time working your cock with my mouth, unless you thought..."
"John?"
"What?"
"What you said about the age difference, 'what if' I find a guy my own age?"
John sums it up, "Look, we met, we happened to be in a place where we were 'feeling it' and went with our emotions, and had a nice time sharing." Then John joking, "Why? You in a hurry to get rid of me now?"
"Shut up?" After John smiles, Jac proceeds like there wasn't any interruption in their train of thought, "We didn't go all the way," Jac came out with for no reason at all.
"It just wasn't meant to be, even though," John says with a giddy feeling.
"Even though what?"
Comically John puts it, "It might've been nice having your lumber shoved in me."
"Sure. I could be your 'lumber-Jac', ha ha!"
"I'll have to remember that."
"What?" Jac asks.
"A comedian you ain't!"
With his hand, Jac slaps John in the arm, then looks down between his legs and feeling mischievous, rolls his hand down John's thigh.
"Uh-uh-uh!" He puts a stop to it. "None of that when I'm driving."
Joking, Jac says, "Can you pull off?"
Keeping on the road, John says, "We'll never get there!"
"I thought you said we were a half hour from Salvo?"
"Paradise has it's traffic jams too!"
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'Finally', after Steve was brought in from the outdoors and the pole applied to a stationary fixture, each end inserted in a 'V-shaped' stanchion, the mask was lifted from his head. Immediate reaction was to first shake out his hair. He didn't have his hands to do this, being his arms was stretched out from either side of his nude bod, clinging in four placed to the oversized, wooden toothpick.
"What the hell is..."
Steve didn't get a chance to finish, a hand swiped across his face.
Some other guy, well-dressed, approaches and in a Hispanic accent to his English-speaking voice, "You will be silent, or I can have Miguel here silence you again?"
Looking to Miguel, half-well-dressed, waist down dressed in fine apparel, equipped with a thin leather belt and shiny silver buckle, his top half stood out, bold hairy pecs, a stripe dividing a lightly haired six pack, pronounced bellyhole with a hairy covering, a thinline stopped by his belt. For sure, Steve didn't want to tangle with this gargantuan, especially since he was flexing his biceps and smiling. Steve knew the look, like some guy looking for a fight, this one, looking for a reason to turn those fists into weapons of war!
Before he brought up the matter at hand, the well manicured man says, "Before I tell you why you are here, I would like to inform you, in a matter of a few hours your partner, Rick Beltran?"
"What about Rick?"
The 'gorilla' made a lurch towards Steve.
"Later Miguel," the head honcho held Miguel back. "Tonight he is scheduled to meet up with two clients. Well, instead his attention will be diverted to here."
Steve blurts out, "That was 'you' on the phone!" he recognizes the voice.
Miguel smiles, punching his right fist against his left palm.
"Easy," the head man says, continuing, "Yes, but don't you worry. Mr. Beltran will be getting the attention he wants and Steve," he approaches Steve, feet barely touching the floor as they are stretched out to the sides and tied, "let me enlighten you in case you have forgotten about one, Jose Rivera...."
Steve immediately interrupts, "I told you. I didn't do anything to Jose. I just set him up...."
This time Miguel wasn't held back. Approaching Steve, immediately Miguel hammered his abs with the ole one -two!
"Enough Miguel!"
Backing away, even as Steve was breathing hard he boldly yelled, "Fuck you spic!"
The other dude approaching Steve, says, "You'll learn your place, Steve. Believe me when I say Miguel can do so much more damage with those fists."
Then, for the most part Steve was quiet, mainly out of curiosity, hearing it told about Jose Rivera, how he was tortured, beaten and left in a back alley with fractures, broken bones. In conclusion, "So you see Steve, it's not that I'm blaming you for those injuries Jose received."
In a smart-alec response, Steve dared to say, "Then what the fuck am I doing, hanging here on his skewer?"
"Names, Steve. All you have to do is come up with the names of the individuals responsible for putting Jose in a wheelchair!"
"He's still alive?" Steve replies, at least breathing a sign of relief for the fact.
"Yes and I hope you will find it reassuring that Miguel understands the same!"
Miguel repeats it like an order, "Give him the most pain, but keep him conscious. I've got it, sir!"
Steve didn't like the sound of that and if in his power he would give them any name which came to mind, except the clients he lined Jose up with six months ago and after telling them this, "How am I supposed to remember two semesters ago?"
Picking up an attache case, the gentleman said, "That's Miguel's job. I'll be back in an hour to see if he helped you remember Steve."
Steve protested till Miguel came over and became the wall between himself and the closing door to the basement chamber.
Rubbing his fist, Miguel says in broken English, "You do me big favor and 'not' talk!" Right after saying so, Miguel's knee hit Steve in the balls!
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`PLaY FoR PaY' 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.....