THE SONS OF ANACREON
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
[NOTE: For the record, I came up with this story idea back when TV evangelist Pat Robertson ran for President! If he'd won, I would have been his erstwhile assassin. Hmm...I think I would have had to stand in line to do it, though!]
I looked back at the police officer I had tied up and gagged in the back of the van. He was still out of it. Good. Less trouble that way. I turned on the radio.
"...with blessings of God. The death toll in the riot has now been
confirmed at seventy-eight, all of them citizens of Free South Central,
praise God, and no further trouble is expected, amen. The police and
National Guard have the situation well in hand, hallelujah, and the
rioters have been cleared from Wilshire Boulevard as far as Alvarado
Street, amen, and...."
I turned off the radio again, I heard all I needed to know. And my prisoner was waking up. With the glare of the security lights of the Beverly Hills Hilton compound, and their lights shining over a wall twelve feet high with armed guards every ten paces just as advertised--"You can sleep safe and sound, within our luxury compound"--I got a better look at my captive. Black hair, golden brown skin, lean square jaw, thin straight nose, nice body. He groaned and opened his eyes, a pair of black jewels shining in the little light in the van.
"Don't bump those boxes." I warned him. "They'll fall on you, and they're damned heavy. One of them was what knocked you out in the first place."
As I expected, he railed and struggled frenetically. I let him. When I tie someone up, they stay tied. I made a left turn onto Santa Monica Boulevard and headed east, toward Free Hollywood and home.
He struggled all the way through the armed guards (Resistance members disguised as police, of course, we had planned for this) and all the way through the darkened streets of Free Hollywood, where no street lights remained and a strict curfew cut off all electricity to the district from 7:00 p.m. until 7:00 a.m.
But he had stopped by the time I pulled into an underground parking structure, and here a lantern hanging from the roof by pre-arrangement gave me plenty to see into my own cabin with, so I looked back at him again. Damn, he was younger than I remembered. Latino, couldn't be more than twenty-two or twenty-three. Somewhat thin.
"Do you know where you are now?" I asked him.
"I'm in a Free District." he conceded. "I won't give you any trouble."
"Good." I said. "Because if you do, I've got six men outside who will take a great deal of pleasure in killing you slowly."
I wasn't kidding about the six men or their ferocity, because one of them opened the rear of the van at that point and went, "Shit! Free, what the hell are you doing with this?"
"I took a hostage, in case I needed it." I told him.
"Word was to kill all witnesses." the man reminded me. They were Glory Squad members one and all. I hated dealing with those blood-thirsty morons, but when in a rebellion, you take what allies you can get.
"All the other witnesses are dead." I pointed out. "Along with the three men who came with me. I was lucky to get out when I did."
The three men with me had been Glory Squad as well, so after a short silence, one of the men said, "They died for liberty."
"Give me liberty, or give me death." they all intoned.
"Well, they're liberated all right." I said. "Get the van unloaded while I take this prisoner upstairs."
"Going to play with him a while?" one of them cocked his eyebrow at me, and I thought about slugging him.
"Just going to put him away until I can figure out what to do with him." I said. "He's my problem, not yours. Take the guns and get them to the base. That's your problem and you'll have plenty to do it; the riot's still going on."
"You sure?" the man asked.
"Radio said it was all calm and peaceful now, hallelujah." I said, parroting the code word from the radio broadcast, it meant the phrase before had been the worst kind of lie.
"Oh." he grimaced. "Can we take this van?"
"Go ahead, but hurry about it. Our men on the blockade will have to get themselves to safety before some bigwig decides to patrol the perimeter and notices that they aren't his men in those uniforms."
I reeled the kid out and the men piled in.
"And bring it back!" I shouted to them. "That van's the best one we've got!"
"It's a pretty color, too, faggot!" one of them jeered at me and they yahooed as they took off.
I shook my head. The Glory Squad can be so damned dumb. A curfew on, they can get in trouble just for being out, and they drive out with a roar and a cheer, alerting everyone for blocks around they were coming. Bet they'd keep that noise up until the blockade. If they took the wrong turn in the course of their celebration, those twelve cases of guns we'd scored would never make it to the base. And we needed those guns, they were a new model and we needed to study and imitate them in our base gun factory.
I looked over at the young kid, who was debating if he should run. But my tie around his hands had also been used to put a walking hobble on his legs, he wouldn't get far or fast. "Come on, kid, let's go." I said. "Sleep now, and we'll figure out what to do with you come daylight."
He followed me, watching me with widened eyes. All the way up the stairs, rusted metal, to my apartment on the third floor. The smell of poverty and hopelessness all around. Inside, I said, "Get on the bed." He did, and I affixed the loose manacles--this kid wasn't my first prisoner in this place--and then untied his hands and ran the rope down to tie his legs to the foot of the bed. Those bedposts were bars of steel bolted to the floor, and the manacles were equally tough, he wasn't going anywhere and it let him be pretty comfortable. "You hungry or thirsty?" He shook his head. "Then try to get some sleep. It's two a.m." I went into the bathroom to wash my face and some of the sleep out of my eyes. What was I going to do with this kid?
I looked at myself in the mirror like I was a stranger. Thirty-ish, and showing it. Light brown hair that was overdue for a haircut. And a shave. Square-jawed, but more primitive-looking than the kid I had hostage. Brown eyes, dark but not solid like the kid's. I was mixed Irish-American ancestry, if the word "American" meant anything anymore. Which it hadn't since nearly the turn of the century.
I looked back at the rookie cop on the bed. He wasn't even trying to sleep. Just watching me, maybe waiting for his chance. Which he wasn't going to get.
I sighed and, as I often did at these times, went to the window and looked out over Free South Central. An area of town where the cops didn't even try to come any more. A section written off as useless by the government and inhabited by legally useless people. No more welfare, no more Social Security, no nothing. Just shut up and die quietly. If you were broke, you lived in the Free areas. No rent, no taxes, no food, no hope.
"Are you Free Freeman?" came the sudden question from the bed.
"My name is Fred." I told him, hiding a wry grin. I guess they were getting to learn who I was.
"Fred Freeman." the kid said confidently. "Street name, Free Freeman. Leader of the Sons of Anacreon. I've heard a lot about you."
I smiled genially; I wasn't the leader of the Sons of Anacreon by any means, just a local section chief. The real leaders were safely hidden away at base. But if they thought I led the Sons of Anacreon, they'd look for me instead of the real leaders, so the mistake suited me and my organization just fine.
"And the Sons of Anacreon don't believe in killing. That's why you didn't kill me when you had the chance." he concluded.
So the Sons have a reputation for not killing, just because we didn't blast away at every opportunity like the Glory Squad did. I got angry. "Look, kid, you're alive because when your partner went down, he knocked a box of rifles onto your head and knocked you out cold. I'll kill you if I have to. Now shut up and get some sleep."
"I have to go to the bathroom." the rookie said, not ashamed or like he was about to try something, just stating the fact. "Too much coffee on the night shift. Makes you go a lot."
"I know." I admitted. "Okay, let me find a bottle or something." I drained the last of a bottle of whiskey and walked over to the bed. I couldn't untie a hand for him; he might try something. "Hope you don't have a bashful bladder, kid." I unzipped the fly of his black uniform and fished around in his briefs, brought out his little, limp flap of manhood. I inserted his cockhead into the bottle and said, "Okay, whiz away."
He had to concentrate a while, but then he managed to let fly with a thin drizzle. I felt the bottle grow warm in my hand at the place the piss was hitting the inside of the bottle. He filled the bottle about half-full before he was done, then I took the bottle into the bathroom and emptied it into the toilet. I washed the bottle (would need it later, no doubt) and went back in. God, I was tired all of a sudden. I shucked my jacket, then kicked off my shoes before I remembered who had the bed, looked at the rookie cop.
"What are you doing?" he asked, a tremor in his voice. Now, he was scared.
"I'm going to bed." I informed him. The bed was big enough for two and I could shift the ropes to make room.
"This bed?" Yep, the other salient semi-public fact about the Sons of Anacreon was foremost in his mind just then, that we were mostly composed of gay men, either fugitives or willing to be outlaws for the sake of some like-minded company.
"Right." I said. "You don't mind sharing a bed, do you, kid?"
"Uh." the kid was fascinated by my crotch all of a sudden, though I hadn't even taken off my denims. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked finally.
"Whatever I feel like." I said, baiting him. "You're my hostage, remember?"
I hadn't put his dick back into his pants after letting him piss; his cock started rising up as he looked at me, wide-eyed. "Please, mister, don't!" he suddenly begged.
"Your mouth is saying no, but...." I started, left the rest unfinished.
He looked down at his traitor cock, whimpered all of a sudden, closed his eyes tight. "Oh, please, don't! Please!" he begged.
"Actually, I hadn't planned on doing anything other than getting in beside you and going to sleep." I said, snapping his little good-bad fantasy. "Anything else you're thinking is a product of your own imagination."
"Really?" he wanted reassuring.
"Listen, kid, the great Free Freeman may be gay, but I have never, never touched anyone without their permission. Not even a cute little hostage like you."
"You're gay?" like he couldn't believe it.
"Sure. Lots of guys in the Resistance are gay, not just the Sons of Anacreon, too. We have been ever since the New Conservative Party took over and outlawed us." First the laws passed under President Buchanan had driven the gay culture underground, so we were already hidden and organized when being gay became classed as a crime. We became a resistance group without even half-trying.
"I'm gay, too." the kid said it in a gush of confession. "God, I didn't think I'd ever say that to anyone."
"It isn't a good idea to say it, anymore." I agreed with him. "But your little secret is safe with me. I won't even tell the other Resistance members." I unzipped my pants and stood before the kid wearing only boxers and my vest. He goggled at my hairy legs, my hairy, broad chest, my cock lying down one boxer leg, like he would never get his fill. His cock still waved at the ceiling. "I have to untie you partially, kid. Don't try anything funny." I wanted the near side of the bed, and the kid was now diagonal. I untied his legs and pushed him over, and decided to let it be. Even if he got loose, he'd have to crawl over me to get out of that bed; I'd wake up.
"Could you loosen my left hand just a little?" he begged me. "It hurts my wrist." He smiled at me quite friendly-like.
"Why not?" I decided, smiling back at him. He put me in mind of an overeager puppy dog. I leaned over to get at the cuff, my chest rested on his face.
I felt a moist lapping at my nipple that rested on his mouth. The kid was licking my tit! I pretended not to notice, just kept working at the rope binding his hand while he shifted from just tonguing my tit to a full-lip kissing and sucking that drove me wild. I finished loosening his bond and threw my leg over him to straddle his thin legs, feeling his boner pushing against my groin and my own stiff cock while I wrapped an arm around his head and pulled him to my breast. "Agh, kid, suck my tit!" I growled "Suck it good, kid, suck it good!" I began to rub my cock back and forth over his crotch, feeling the cold metal of his badge pressing against my sternum, and the kid hunched back against me.
"God, kid, do you know what you're doing?" I asked as I got up from the bed. I took off my boxers, but as I saw the look on the kid's face when I touched it, I left my vest on. The badge of the Sons of Anacreon, he wanted to see it as we made love.
"I've never done it before." he admitted. Then, with eyes as wide as a sunflower. "Can I? Please?"
"Please?" I grinned down at him. "Kid, I'm going to fucking insist on it."
I sat on his chest and reached back to feel his crotch. "Got a nice bulge in there, kid. Mind if I take it out and play with it?"
"Glmph!" he gave his affirmative sound muffled by the fact that he took my cock into his mouth at the same time. That hot young tongue of his lapped at the underside of my prick as I slid it down his throat, making wide wagging back-and-forths until the tip of his tongue lapped at my balls, and I held it there a while, giving him an encouraging groan, then pulled back out.
"Don't want you to choke on it." I said.
And his head came up and he scarfed most of it back down again.
"Okay, kid, you want to strangle on this monster, you go ahead, but you have to do all the work yourself." I said as I held myself steady. He could take my cock but only by lifting his head all the way up, any relaxation and he slipped back off of it. It also gave him maximum room to move, and this young police rookie took full advantage of it. He might be a virgin in fact, but his eagerness to get my prong down his throat was giving him plenty of talent even without it.
I was genuinely groaning as I undid his pants and pulled up his shirt and got his balls in my hand and I held on and waggled them like I was weighing them. The kid looked up at me and grinned around my cock and I said, "You ready for a dose of your own medicine, kid?"
That got him to let go. "You'd better believe it." he said. "God, I'm going to shoot in no time!"
"Go ahead, kid." I said as I turned around on the bed. "Your first time is pretty damned special all by itself, so don't worry about pleasing me any. Just get your rocks off and you can fall asleep right after if you want to. Just doing it is a victory." And it was, in this day and age. It had been different when I was younger. I could just barely remember those days, before the chants and rallies and phrases like "protect our children" (from who?) and "save the family" (from what?) were tossed about as reasons to deprive every gay and Lesbian in the country of every basic freedom guaranteed under the Constitution to all its citizens. Of course, they had suspended the Constitution entirely some two years ago, citing the rebellion. Not that we had done much to them by that time. But we were beginning to make them smart.
While I was thinking all this, I had leaned over and my reverie was interrupted by the taste of a hard young Hispanic pud in my mouth. It was so damned hot, the crotch was a steamy warm rich area, like some meat course cooking over the stove, only stronger, and his cock slid into my mouth like it belonged there.
"Uhh, gahh!" he groaned heartily.
I shoved my cock back at his mouth. "Suck on it, kid." I groaned. Then I took his cock back into my mouth and he groaned just as lustily again.
Shit, this kid was going to shoot it in no time! I hunched at his mouth while I suckled his strong young prick, my own organ was humming a happy tune, I hoped I could finish with the kid.
Then he groaned, "Oh, uh, ahhh! Uh, huh, hunk-kuhhh!" And my mouth filled with Latino jism, as torrid and rich in flavor as his crotch had promised.
I let my cock fall out of his writhing, desperately blowing mouth (the kid needed air, now!) and sucked that warm jizz right off the vine, as it were, drinking him down while he thrashed beneath me. Good stuff, fresh young Latino jizz, I could drink this hot man-juice all night long!
But he was done now, and I had only had a bare mouthful of it, I sucked his cock dry of my spit and then said, "You like that, kid?" and I shifted to my knees in order to get up.
His response was to grab my cock which had fallen near his mouth.
"Oh, shit, kid!" I groaned. "Yeah, damn, yeah!"
He had been eager before, but he was a hellion now. He wanted me to get off, and he wanted that right now. He sucked my cock hard and fast and I felt my load building in my balls, ready to climb my cock and blast into that clutching maw any moment now.
"Yeah, kid, yeah!" I gasped. "Going, to, get, the, whole, load!"
He sucked me and sucked while I played with his tender rod, watching as it grew again to tumescent strength. Ah, the glories of the young prick, able to rise up again and again.
I took it into my mouth, gingerly because the cockhead was likely to be tender after the recent jizz-load. I wasn't trying to get him off again, anyway, just enjoying the heavy, meaty taste of a young man's hard cock, how insatiable it was, how potent and invigorating to feel it lying all warm and thick in my mouth...
My orgasm, which had been lying quiet in the back of my mind, suddenly rose up in full force. My climax built not in hasty urgency, but in a slow, relaxed swelling of desire, as if my entire body was being lifted up into space, I felt my body climb the heights of desire, and like the sea washes over your entire body all at once as the wave hits you, getting you wet everywhere at once, so did my climax suddenly fill my body every place at the same instant, so that I was high on the crest of desire, and then suddenly crashing down into the wet chaos of ejaculation. Somewhere in the morass of conflicting signals that raced all over my body in all directions, my cock found the direction it needed to squirt my jism into this hungry maw, and he sucked my cock like a soda straw, as if he could suction the entire load out of me, and I had to thrust into his mouth with my buttocks to get the extra stimulation I needed, while my body reeled and I nearly bit this kid's cock with my mouth in my nearly epileptic seizure of orgasmic bliss.
As slowly as it had risen, my climax waned and sunk back to the depths, succumbing to the darkness of my psyche, inky blackness swallowing it, but not to obliterate it, rather to hide it until it was needed once again.
In that warm feeling, almost the feeling you get after a massage, all relaxed and not at all jittery, I released the kid's hard cock and crawled up to receive my reward of a kiss from those rich lips of his, which he paid me gladly.
"God, kid, you're good at this." I said. "You sure you hadn't done it before."
"No." he said. "Was I really okay?"
"You were more than okay." I assured him and he giggled, a rich burst of vowels from his throat.
"So why don't you try to sleep now, kid. Morning will come soon, and it'll be too noisy to sleep when it does. I know."
"Okay." He said. "Only, what happens to me then?" He wasn't afraid I'd kill him, but he had nothing else to put in its place, he literally didn't know any more.
"That depends." I said. "Why did you ever get into the police force, kid?"
He yawned. "We needed the money. When Dad died, I had to bring in money to live somehow. My brothers and sisters are all five years or more younger than me. Oldest one is fourteen now. So we had to have money, or we would have ended up in a Free District ourselves."
"So you're the one who takes care of the family." I said.
"I'm the man of the house." he said. "We have this little place up in Burbank, not too far from the Free Valley District, but that helps keeps the rent cheap. We're doing okay, now that I made the force."
"Do you know what happens when they get a kidnap victim back from the Resistance?" I asked him.
"No." he said.
"They pump you full of chemicals and ask you every question they can think of." I looked at him carefully. "Including just what happened during your captivity."
It took him a while to realize it. Then it sank in, and he was horrified. "What do I do?" He said. "I can't let them find out, they'll kick me off the force, and my family...."
"I know." I said.
"You got to help me." He said urgently. "You got me into this."
"I got you into this?" I said.
"If you hadn't captured me...."
"Did I force you to do anything?"
"No." He admitted. "I'm sorry. But...but can you help me?"
"We can damned sure try. But I have to get up to do it."
I rolled the kid off my arm and went to the vidphone. I slapped my mask over my face until I saw Lieutenant Braddon's ugly, sleepy face on the screen, and we exchanged code words. Braddon is a secret member of the Resistance in the Los Angeles Police Department; we keep her superiors happy by feeding them information we want them to know, like the activities of the real bad guys operating in town. In exchange, she gets a secured phone and no questions asked about how she knows what she knows. It works quite well for all parties concerned. There are times when the Resistance and LAPD are in agreement, you know.
I lifted my mask and said, "Brat, I need to know what you know about the little raid on the armory over on West Side last night."
"I thought I recognized your light touch in that." she smiled. "Three policemen down, one missing, three bodies of unidentified rebels. You know where the kid is? His family keeps calling me, asking."
"I got him trussed up right now, back at my place. I want to check his story." I told her his tale of woe and struggle for financial security.
"That's the story, all right." she agreed. "What's your plan?"
"The kid is gay." I said. "Though scared of everyone finding out."
"We weren't so brave at first, either." she countered. "So what do you want to do?"
I shrugged. "We've got a lot of dead at the riot. Any chance of finding a match?"
She thought about it. "We'd have to fish a body out of the fire, probably after putting it in there. Then I'd have to get Sydney to do a matching dental chart in a hurry and replace the one in his file with it."
"Sounds good. Will you do it?"
"What's in it for me?" She grinned.
"The satisfaction of saving an entire family from the Free District?"
"That doesn't help me any. My supervisors get nosy every so often."
"Okay, I'll set the Sons to finding that serial rapist working the Westside. We'll stake it out and help you bring him in."
"Deal. You get me the body and I'll slip it into the police morgue for you."
"I'll get on it."
I finished and looked back at the kid. "Kid, you're going to have to get out of that uniform. We'll need it."
Shit, and I had let the Glory Squad take my van! Still, by early morning we had done it, rigged up the uniform on some poor kid who had been shot and killed in the riot and just like Brat had predicted, we fed him into a fire, and burned the police uniform on the body, charring both nearly beyond recognition. Nearly. It wasn't a perfect job, but the police morgue attendant was one of us, he'd sign all the necessary papers.
The kid, dressed in some of my old clothes now, looked as they took the body away. "What happens now?" he asked.
I shrugged. "You...the other you...will be buried with all pomp and honor. A few raggedly-dressed people will hang on the outside of the funeral, trying not to cry too loudly. Family of the real victim. And they'll have to visit your grave at midnight to leave their flowers. But they get their son buried in a nice graveyard plot and a free funeral, so they come out ahead. They were willing enough, don't worry about that."
"I meant, what happens to me?" he clarified.
"Oh. Well, you'll never speak to your family again." I said.
That hurt him.
"But you have us." I told him quickly. "If you're interested."
"I'm interested." He said, grinning up at me.
I looked about to be sure we weren't seen, then slipped an arm around his waist and led him back into the building. The sun was just coming up. "First, kid, you and I get back in that bed and sleep this time, and I mean really sleep. Then, when we wake up, I'm going to tell you all about why we're called the Sons of Anacreon."
"Why are you called the Sons of Anacreon?" he asked me, really curious all of a sudden.
"It's a line from the original tune the first national anthem of this country borrowed for its music."
"The national anthem wasn't always 'God Bless America?'" he asked me.
"Nope." I said. "I'll teach you the words and meaning of 'The Star-Spangled Banner' for starters...."
Recruitment tactics, that was what I was using on him. Soon, he'd be another member of the Sons of Anacreon. With enough like him, maybe one day we could regain the precious liberties we had enjoyed in the last part of the 20th century, when gays and Lesbians had walked in the open air, proud and free, daring to speak out in their own defense, even getting laws passed to further guarantee their rights under the law, like letting them live together openly, or to adopt children or visit their loves ones in the hospital.
Thinking of them living like that, I often wondered if they even knew how lucky they had been!
THE END
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