Just barely. The dashboard clock of Sam’s battered car indicated it was 12:13am.
Ford had left the frat house hours ago but a hunch told Sam to go back to Greek Row and keep lookout there.
It was just weird that the house seemed full. Valentine’s day, you’d think a lot of these frat boys would have hot dates.
Which got him to thinking maybe the dates were ‘in-house.’
The door opened and a young blond kid came out, compulsively wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Looked a little young to be a frat boy, but it was hard to tell these days. As he moved into a street lamp halo his golden locks blazed and Sam realized he had seen the kid hanging around Ford at Chained Rock High School.
The kid approached a parked car and stopped, mouth hanging open. All four tires were flat. After staring in shock, he raised his face in fury and yelled at the door.
“I’ll get you, you fuckers! You think you can fuck with me! Hah!”
He kicked the car viciously and then started to pat himself down, looking for his phone, probably, when Sam pulled up along and rolled down his window.
“Need a lift?”
Nick’s eyes took in Sam’s seedy appearance and narrowed to slits.
“Not to worry guy. I’m looking for some information. I can pay.”
“You know Ford Spencer, right?”
Nick exploded. “Yeah, I know him, and the next time I see that fucker, he’s dead!”
Sam reached over and opened the passenger door.
“I can help. Let’s deal.”
Brian woke to a gentle, warm/wet sensation, and let out a low sigh as he felt a tongue caress his left nipple... Angela?
His eyes fluttered open to make out the huge, muscular shape of Steve’s henchman, John, outlined by the early dawn light sneaking between the curtains.
“What - what the - this is supposed to be my day off -”
“Shh... just a little reward... just relax...”
“I don’t wanna... relax... just...”
Brian shifted a little as John used his tongue expertly and ever-so-gently over his chest and abs. Damn, it felt good. But he didn't want it to feel good... not with another guy... it was wrong... but it felt soooo goooood...
As he sensed Brian’s growing arousal, John shifted his head lower, licking his way down the chestnut-haired treasure trail to the swelling cock.
“Not like this... don’t.... ahhh... shit... mmmm... oohhh... oh, man...”
Brian moaned, spread his legs and curled his toes as John played his dick like a concert musician for over an hour, letting the licks, kisses and slurps build slowly, overwhelming Brian’s tattered nervous system with a swelling crescendo of pure pleasure, rising closer and closer to the massively satisfying climax...
This orgasm was so different from the dozen or so he had had the night before, when the violent ejaculations had been virtually ripped from his cock during the hours-long gang rape at the hands of eager frat boys.
Now, riding a wave of golden light, Brian felt his piss slit open and a solid stream of semen pour effortlessly out of the wide open knob slit. It was a continuous stream of pleasure, and John’s expert gullet relaxed and let the column of cum spurt all the way down his warm, velvety throat.
What seemed like an hour later, Brian’s satiated body was too limp to resist as John gently spread his thighs, lifted his nut sack, and snaked his tongue between the sweaty cheeks, soothing and titillating the ravaged asshole.
Brian’s cock was still rock hard.
“So, our theme is the Make It a Clean Break campaign. Get your parent waivers for the Spring Break Florida mission signed and back to me by next Sunday. Don’t make me call them.”
Ford had a vision of Ryan spanking each of the members of the Youth Council by way of punishment. He coughed to cover his nervous snort.
His wasn’t the only one. There were more than a few impatient coughs among members of the Baptist Youth League and sidelong glances at the clock as Ryan droned on. Ford caught Jorden’s eye and the other kid blushed and looked away. He had been acting weird ever since a nearly naked Ford literally ran into him in the mad dash from his father’s study last month.
“And now, I’ll bring you up to date on the Undercroft Renovation. Thorn Construction began work two weeks ago Monday, and we hope to open our Abstinence-Themed Youth Center on Easter...”
Ford glanced at his watch. He thought Ryan would never finish and it was nearly noon. He was due out at the High School for his weekly session with Nick and the Coach.
Fifteen minutes later Ford dashed out of the church and ran smack into a twenty-something guy waiting outside. Ford mumbled an apology and started to dodge around him when the guy grabbed his jacket.
“Hang on, dude. I got something for ya. Somethin’ you’re gonna want real bad.”
Ford stopped and looked up. The guy was muscular but thin and haggard-looking, maybe late 20’s. He sported multiple piercings and a tattoo peeked out of his shirt collar. A cigarette stub dangled from his mouth.
Ford took a step back, then froze in shock when he saw what the guy was carrying under his arm.
A whole stack of Bound & Slagged magazines.
“That’s right, kid. And a whole bunch more back at the shop.”
“Sh - shop?”
“The Grotto. You know, sex shop downtown. Just 3 blocks away. 24 copies. Well... 21. I already sold 3 copies yesterday. I recognized you on the cover. Preacher’s kid getting fingercuffed by a couple of big dicks... Hot stuff!”
Ford’s head spun and he involuntarily reached out to grab the guy’s arm for support.
“Anyway, I thought you might be interested. Make a deal.”
“Wh - wh - what... deal?”
“Follow me and find out. Or not. I could always call around, talk to some teachers, some cops, maybe some of your fellow jocks, see if they want to buy—”
“I’ll do it! Please!”
With a smirk, the guy turned and headed down Cherry Street toward Main.
“I can’t be seen going in here! Hurry up!”
The shop clerk was taking his sweet time unlocking the front door. Ford cringed as cars filled with homeward-bound churchgoers cruised past, some of them wondering why the Baptist preacher’s boy was standing outside the notorious sex shop. He followed the guy into the darkened store to the counter.
He dropped the mags from under his arm and reached under the counter for more.
“There ya go! 21 copies at 28 bucks apiece, that’s... 588 dollars. Plus tax, of course.”
Ford paled. “But—but I don’t—I can’t do that, I don’t have that kind of money!”
“No problem.” The clerk pulled out a professional-looking camera. “You can earn it.” He gave a leer at the cover photo. “Obviously, you’re good at... modeling.”
“Oh, no. You can’t. You can’t mean...”
The clerk flashed a big, lewd, smile. He did indeed.
“That’s it, spread those cheeks, give us a good look at that ass-pussy... yeah, that’s it. Now slip that little slim-line vibrator all the way in, real slow... nice... nice! Okay, now turn on the switch... yeah... and turn around to show off your dick...”
Ford turned around, his dress pants and underwear tangling his ankles. He still had on his dress shirt, tie, and jacket, as well as his shoes and socks. The Youth League gold cross was still pinned to his lapel.
The clerk - whose name was Zack - wanted the full ‘preacher kid’ look.
The mini-vibrator in his ass was creating the desired effect, and Ford bit his lip in shame as his cock began to swell. The guy made him lean back to show it off as it grew to full hardness.
“Yeah. Now open that copy of Bound & Slagged and look at the pictures of yourself while you beat off... not too fast, take your time... hey, I know, prop the mag in the book rack to leave both hands free... yeah, like that, and keep beating off while you diddle the toy around in your ass... raise your left leg a little so we can see... yeah, that’s hot, keep it up... sweet...”
Click. Click. Click.
“Good, now pick a bigger toy from the shelf there... no, bigger than that... okay, yeah. Open the package and stick that thing up your ass... open it fast, rip it open like an eager little pussy slut... yeah, now pull out that fat butt plug and shove it in there, hard... I know you can take it, Ford, really shove that thing deep... great facial expression, yeah, give me some more of that... lust, but deep guilt, yeah, beautiful...”
“Please... please, can I go soon? I told you, I have to be someplace, it’s important—”
“Shut up and work that plug in and out. You’ll go when I say so. Besides, we have to wait for the other guys to get here.”
“Yeah, I called a couple regular customers in to help out. A proper photo shoot takes more than two hands.”
“No! You can’t!”
“Hey, look, a couple extra guys can see you do your stuff... or 21 guys can get a free copy of the magazine. Carefully chosen guys that you know.”
“Shit! These... two other guys... they don’t know me, do they?”
“They’re gonna wear masks. Maybe yes, maybe no. You’ll never know.”
The doorbell tinkled as someone came in.
“Oh god,” Ford moaned. He shut his eyes in shame as footsteps approached.
“Keep fucking & jerking. And do exactly what I say. Or else.”
Throwing the stack of dearly-bought magazines—as well as a black plastic bag of very greasy, very well-used ass toys—into the back seat of the clunker car he had bought after his birthday, Ford got behind the wheel and fastened his seat belt.
His suit was a mess. Ford felt semen leaking from his ass and shuddered, slumping back into the seat. Closing his eyes, he could see in his mind the two middle-aged men, ski-masked, unzipping their trousers as they approached... using him as the camera clicked and flashed.
Ford roused himself and looked at the dashboard clock. Turning the key, he threw the car into gear and tore off toward the high school.
He was two hours late for his regular Sunday session with the Coach.
Pulling to a hasty stop at the rear entrance of the athletic wing, Ford tumbled from the car and dashed to the door. There was a piece of paper taped to it.
‘Ford. U R D E A D’
At the bottom corner it read ‘Over’. It went on to read:
‘Report to me first thing Tuesday morning for punishment detail. I mean it. Coach MacAnally.’
Ford sagged against the side railing.
Sam watched as the clerk exited the shop and locked up. The guy sauntered casually to Sam’s car and got in the passenger door. The guy handed Sam his camera.
Zack was surprised to see Sam alone. “Where’s the other guy you brought?”
“Leonard? Under the blanket in the back seat, sleeping it off. He’s good, but he always crashes afterwards. Speaking of which, good job back there. You’re almost as dirty-minded as I am.”
“Thanks. It was a rush. Plus, you know, the 200 bucks you promised?”
The tattooed clerk held out his hand as Sam got out his wallet and counted out the bills.
“You’re sure the surveillance was off?”
“I took the cassette out. The boss put in a cheap-ass system, video, no back up or hard drive. I’ve disabled it before, no problem. Anyway—you need some help again, call. It was a blast.”
Sam took a ski mask out of his coat pocket and stowed it in the glove box.
“The pleasure was all mine.”
As soon as Zack was clear, Sam flipped open his cell phone.
“Nick? Worked like a charm. Thanks for the set-up and the shoot idea. I’ll give you a cut of the deal as soon as those sons-a-bitches at Bound & Slagged pay me for it.”
Ryan woke late that night with a start, gasping and tossing the covers back after the latest nightmare. The blue light from his bedside clock cast a ghostly sheen on his sweat-slicked face.
Ryan moaned. It was 3:33am.
It was happening again.
Somehow, he never remembered it until it happened. But then he realized that it had. Over and over. Night after night.
Ryan struggled to a sitting position and turned on the lamp. He was wearing chaste, old-fashioned, fully-buttoned-up pajamas. The crotch of which was tented by a steel-hard erection.
Ryan grimaced at his groin in disgust. Then, slowly, robotically, each step more reluctant than the last, he staggered to the walk-in closet and opened the door.
Pushing aside the hanging clothes, he revealed a small kneeling desk facing the wall. Prying into a crack in the paneling, he opened a pair of secret doors. Inside was a niche with a crucifix, a pair of candles, and a small lap top.
Next to the lap top were a glove, a small, multi-tasseled whip, and a short wooden stick.
The palm and fingers of the glove were covered with short, stiff, horsehair bristles.
Ryan groaned miserably, turned on the computer, and lit the two candles. As the browser automatically logged in to a particular - and secret - web address, Ryan bit his lip and stripped off the cotton pajamas, standing naked in the flickering light, his shameful erection jutting obscenely from his slim hips.
Servant Ryan. It is time for your instruction. You know you need it.
Kneel and pray for relief, Ryan. Kneel and obey my voice...
Ryan felt his knees hit the hard wood of the kneeler. First, he placed the stick between his teeth and bit down on it. Then he slipped his left hand into the glove, picked up the whip with his right hand, and dangled the knotted lash ends over his shoulder blade, waiting for the next order. The smelly, knob-ended handle shifted greasily in his palm, reminding him that it would have another, even more diabolical use later in the ceremony.
A burst of acid-green light was followed by vile and perverse images flitting across the small laptop screen as the voice whispered its terrible instructions. Ryan bit down on the stick to keep from crying out as his left hand closed around his dick and his right hand raised the lash.
Ryan prayed to be exorcised from the perverted demon possessing his body, forcing him to engage in forbidden pleasures of the flesh. But there was never any mercy as the wicked bristles dug into the tender skin of his penis and the lash scored his back, and his anus ached, anticipating the violation to come.
For one hour exactly, the demon whispered to him, issuing instructions on how to serve him during the week, filling his mind with garbage, forcing him to look at the most degrading images, and scalding his soul with perverted pain/pleasure/pain. Dreading - and lusting - for the moment when he would be told to stop whipping himself. Told to jut his hips back. And commit the ultimate forbidden act. The unforgivable act of utter submission. The dirty, hot, violation of his most private place.
The demon always won, forcing him to spill his seed, forcing him to enjoy the degradation and the obscenity and the filthy work of his hands. Ryan was always directed to spew his sinful ejaculation into a plastic container and collect it for later delivery.
In the morning, he never remembered.
But the instructions were always followed.
“Oh, no. No way. I won’t do it.”
Luke leaned close. “I think you will, Brian. Or you won’t get your fix next weekend. No nice green lube to let you cum. No relief. And not the next week, either. Maybe not for a month.”
Brian paled. “You can’t do that!”
“Why not? A little science experiment. See how crazy you go after 4 weeks without. Remember what happened after just ten days last time, Brian. You were out of control, let yourself be fucked in public.”
“That’s why I can’t go back there! You can’t make me, I won’t—”
“After three weeks without a lube fix, I bet I could drop you off on a public street corner with a dildo, and you’d tear off your clothes and go at in front of kids and little old ladies. In front of the police station. They could lock you up, never let you have relief, while you get fucked by every con in the joint.”
Brian, fully dressed, sank to his knees, woozy at the thought of it. Then he realized that his face was in front of Luke’s crotch.
“Please... I’ll suck you... right here... anything you want, please...”
“I’ll tell you what I want. I want you to go back to the garage and beg for your job back. Tell him you’ll do anything he wants. And you’ll do whatever he says, cause I’ll be watching to make sure.”
“I can’t! All the guys will be there. It’s too humiliating!”
Luke smiled. “Exactly.”
Ten minutes later, Brian pulled his car into the garage lot. To his surprise there was only one car there, plus a motorcycle. Then he saw the sign on the door.
‘President’s Day—Closed for Inventory’
He was saved! He glanced down the street at where Luke waited in a dark van. Luke made a door opening gesture. Brian shrugged and tried the knob, assuming it would be locked.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t.
Oh well. At least the other mechanics weren’t around.
Boss Hemmer had spent a week thinking about ways to get in Kevin’s pants.
Ever since the impromptu—and never spoken of—orgy at the garage, Hemmer’s dick had tingled with the memory of Brian’s tight ass milking the cum from his thrusting shaft, the memory of his gagging throat slurping on it.
It had been great just to hammer away and cum, it made him feel like a man again. And his wife was frigid as ever.
So he thought about the new kid’s pink lips wrapped around his dick, or stared as Kevin bent over and his bubble butt stretched the thin, tight overalls.
He had done some checking around, knew that Kevin was buried in student debt, knew he was desperate to keep this job.
The inventory idea came to him. Close the shop, make the kid work, then accuse him of theft and threaten to fire him.
Hemmer closed his eyes, could practically feel the kid’s mouth on his throbbing dick...
But then Brian walked in.
And begged for his job back, willing to do anything.
And another plan hatched in Hemmer’s lusty brain. He told Brian what he had to do to get re-hired.
Brian stared at Hemmer in disbelief. He had been prepared for the guy to humiliate him, even to make him have sex again, but this left him speechless.
With a mean smile, Hemmer had told Brian that he had to get Kevin to have sex with him in the store room, while Hemmer pretended to leave the garage on errands. To offer to blow him or do whatever the guy wanted, and not to take no for an answer. He was supposed to get the kid naked and have sex so Hemmer could catch them at it.
“When I come back, I want to see both of you naked, engaged in homo sex. Got it?” he barked.
Brian opened his mouth to refuse, then glanced at the phone in his hand. Thad had rigged Brian’s phone to send audio & video wirelessly to Luke’s laptop across the street, so there could be no ducking. Luke would know what had been said, and expect him to obey orders.
“Hey! Kid! Get your ass down here!”
Kevin gave a start and put out a hand to steady himself at the top of the tall, walk-up ladder. For some reason it was really hot in the huge storage room and Hemmer had told Kevin it was all right to take off his shirt. Clad in only his jeans and running shoes, Kevin dashed toward the office.
Coming into the office, he saw Brian there, and blushed crimson, holding a hand to his shirtless chest.
“Kevin, this asshole has come back looking to get re-hired. I told him probably no, but he gets a chance to convince me. So he’s gonna help with the inventory. I’ve gotta go home, run some errands for the missus for a couple hours, so you’re in charge. Make sure Brian here does all the scut work. Work his ass hard, ya got it?”
Kevin nodded nervously. Hemmer stalked off, smirking at Brian on the way out.
Kevin shuffled one foot in a nervous arc. “Well. Um.. I guess. Um... let’s get to work.”
“I really need this job back. I’ll do anything.”
Brian moved close, almost brushing up against the kid’s bare chest.
Kevin looked away, embarrassed. Brian moved even closer, feeling unbelievably dirty. He had ‘casually’ set his phone down on a shelf, in such a way as to give it a good view of the two of them. Luke’s power over him gave him no choice but to behave like a desperate slut.
“And I mean—anything. Anything you want. I mean—anything.” Brian ran his tongue over his lips lewdly, feeling like a total whore.
Kevin’s eyes opened wide, and then he suddenly turned away. As he did, Brian glimpsed a suspicious swelling at the kid’s crotch.
Unfortunately, Brian’s plan seemed to be working. He figured begging Kevin to help get his job back would give him an opening.
Kevin had turned around. But he hadn’t moved away, his bare back inches from Brian’s chest. Time to go for it.
Swallowing hard, Brian pressed up against him, reached around and let his hands slide down Kevin’s naked torso. At the same time, he let his lips brush the back of Kevin’s neck. He kissed his way down the spine as he sank to his knees, expecting at any moment for Kevin to pull away in disgust.
But he didn’t.
Oh, god. Brian wasn’t sure he could go through with it.
But the kid just stood there, and Brian had to go on. Trembling, he let his hand descend to Kevin’s waistband and button fly. Suddenly Kevin’s hand grabbed his own in a fierce grip, and he backed up, forcing Brian’s face against his butt, trapping his head against the metal shelving.
Kevin’s breath was loud and fast.
“All of the other guys fucked you. Last week. They all did. They fucked you. They fucked you up the ass.”
Brian could barely speak. “Yeah. Yeah. They did.”
“Not me. They made me stick my dick in your mouth. Made you blow me. But I didn’t fuck you.”
Kevin whipped around suddenly, tearing open his fly. To Brian’s surprise, he noticed that Kevin wasn’t wearing underwear a split second before the kid’s naked dick hit him in the face.
“I wanted to. I wanted to fuck you. It looked hot.”
Brian was overwhelmed by the intense scent of an oversexed 18-year-old male’s dick and ball sweat, trying to squirm away as Kevin ground his dick in his face, only scarce hearing what the kid was saying.
Kevin grabbed him by the hair, squirming insistently against him, working his hips and arching his back as his body was flooded with sexual need.
“And now—you have to—anything—he said—anything—you have to, you have to... do... what I... tell you... anything...”
A wave of claustrophobia overcame Brian like nausea, and he struggled to free himself, but this only seemed to make Kevin bolder. The kid yanked back on his hair, making Brian look up.
Kevin saw Brian’s self-disgust, the desperation to get away, the helplessness.
“You—you don’t want to do this, do you? You—you’re forced to do it. Not wanting it.”
“No—please—don't, I don't want to, please—”
Kevin’s shoulders gave a lurch and a gob of precum dribbled from his shiny pink knob. He gave a deep moaning growl, reared back, and thrust his cock deeply into Brian’s open mouth.
“Have to—do it—suck it—anything—fuck—anything—”
Brian gagged and struggled as Kevin settled into a steady face fuck, and he tongued and slurped on the long thin tool properly the way the frat brothers had forced him to learn. Burning with shame, horribly aware that Luke would be eating up his humiliation as it was broadcast from his phone a few feet away, Brian tugged Kevin’s jeans down to his ankles and began to undo his own pants so that Hemmer could find them naked as ordered.
Kevin looked down, then pulled his cock out and stepped back to stare at him, kicking off his jeans.
“Yeah, that’s it—anything I want—so get naked. Strip! Show me your ass, get naked, bend over and—oh jesus, look at that! Fuck, your dick is hard as a ratchet handle, you’re a liar, you want it, you’re all turned on... well, you’re gonna do what I want, since I like it, do anything, ANYTHING I want! Get down on all fours and show me your ass!
Biting his lip to keep himself from moaning in shame, Brian did as he was told.
“Yeah, shake that ass, wag it, and pull your dick back between your legs, show me how hard—fuck! Oh fuck!”
Suddenly Kevin tackled him, turning him on his back and sticking his cock in his mouth again, pumping it in and out like a piston, pinning his wrists to the hard concrete floor and fucking his face in abandon.
“What the everlivin’ FUCK you doin’ kid?”
Hemmer’s voice roared across the room.
Kevin froze in shock, then threw himself off Brian’s body in a galvanized spasm.
“Oh god—oh no—please—Mr... Boss... Sir!” Kevin started to scramble away. “Oh god—jeesus—no—”
“Catch, him Brian! Don’t let him get away!”
Feeling like a total shit, Brian grabbed the naked kid and held him fast as Hemmer approached.
“Looks like this garage has TWO homo queers!”
“No! It wasn’t—he made me, he made me do it—”
“Tough titty! You’re fired, kid! Get your gay ass out of here!”
Kevin turned pure white. “Oh please—I need this job, you can’t, I—I...”
Hemmer leaned in close and leered at the naked mechanic.
“I believe what you’re trying to say is ‘I’ll do anything to keep this job, Mr. Hemmer, anything you want.’ Right? Right??”
Hemmer advanced until his crotch was practically in Kevin’s face. Brian held the naked kid firmly to keep him from squirming away.
“Oh. Oh. Oh god. You want. To. Anything...”
Kevin watched in horror as Hemmer unzipped his trousers. Slowly.
“No—no, I can’t—please—”
Hemmer grabbed him by the hair. “So maybe I should call in all the other guys. Let them punish you, huh? Like how they showed Brian?”
“Okay, then.” Hemmer took two long, black cable ties from his pocket. Grabbing Kevin’s left wrist, he strapped it to the wire shelf, then grabbed his right wrist and dragged it across the narrow aisle to secured it to the opposite shelf. This left Kevin on his knees, arms spread wide as if begging. Naked. And fully erect.
Hemmer knelt so that they were eye to eye.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about this all week... and here you are, all trussed up and ready...”
Hemmer reached out to let his hands grope the kid’s body. Kevin kicked and squirmed and tried to get to his feet.
“Not so fast, kid! Hold his legs, Brian.”
Brian grasped Kevin’s ankles and forced them apart, keeping him on his knees and forcing him to stick out his ass to keep his balance.
Kevin shuddered helplessly as Hemmer’s rough hands felt him up, roaming over his torso, feeling his arm muscles, his back, the insides of his thighs, stretching and caressing his dangling nut sack...
“Your dick is still hard from Brian’s blow job... you’re a horny boy, Kevin. Good.”
Suddenly Kevin felt his dick in the man’s firm grasp, jerking him off, and his other hand pinched and twisted his pink, pointy nipples, making them go hard instantly. He squirmed helplessly, held fast as Hemmer worked his dick, making him moan like a slut.
“Fuck, boy, you are one prime piece of meat, you know that? A prime fucking sex toy. So let’s check out your other... ASSet!”
Continuing the hand hob, Hemmer let his left hand move around and caress the boy’s buttocks, working his fingers into the spread as crack, teasing the hairless rosebud.
Kevin went wild, bucking and yelling at him to stop.
“I think we found a hot spot. Ever have anything up your ass, boy?”
Hemmer got up and wiped his hands on Kevin’s discarded jeans.
“Well, that’s about to change, kid. I overheard you say something about a ratchet handle earlier. That should do fine. Brian, go get one, and some lube, and get back here. Oh wait a minute, bring a chair from my office, I don’t want to get my clothes dirty. And bring another ratchet for yourself!”
Brian ran and did as he was told.
Hemmer reached into his trousers and withdrew a fat, smelly hardon, then grabbed Kevin’s hair to keep him in place.
“And now, boy, you can beg me to give you your job back. Make it good.”
“No—no, please, I—”
“Open wide kid... there... oh yeah... see, that’s not so bad, is it? What the fuck do I care? Now suck it! And no teeth! Use your tongue all over it, make it feel good... more tongue... and suck harder... that’s it...”
Brian returned, rolling a desk chair and carrying a small tool kit. Hemmer pulled out of Kevin’s mouth and stripped, folding his clothes neatly and putting them on the chair.
“Okay, Brian, bend over so the kid here can get a nice look at your pussy... spread it... hold still...” Hemmer took a knurled, 10-inch long tool handle from the kit and smeared grease on it with rag.
“Watch closely, Kevin... gonna get pussy-boy here reamed out and ready for dicking... nothing like a long steel rod up the ass... there it is, in to the hilt. Makes him squirm and moan, doesn’t it? Look at the faggot work his ass, trying to get some relief... and you’re next, boy. Brian’s gonna stick a handle up your ass and get you loose enough to take my cock, and meanwhile you’re gonna learn to suck my dick real good. Cause from now on, you got a new job description. Special assistant. Lots of time in the office. Under my desk. On top of my desk. Whenever I want it. Cause you need to keep this job, right? No matter what?”
Unfortunately for Kevin, he did.
John’s quarry left the house as the sun was starting to fade, making the falling snow flakes glint pale gold. He drove behind at a discrete distance, hoping Ryan wouldn’t spot that he was being followed. He had been keeping an eye on him all day, with nothing to show for it. It was imperative that they find a way to keep Ryan from confronting the Coach with what he knew, or the whole porn enterprise would be dead.
To his surprise, the kid drove out to the edge of town and turned north on the old state highway. Minutes later, he turned into the entrance of Chained Rock State Park.
John continued on the highway a short distance—Ryan would definitely notice if a car followed him into the park—and pulled onto the shoulder. Running back, he followed the car tracks, easily visible in the fresh snow.
Getting to the top of the steep gravel drive, John came to Bald Hill, the flat lawn at the highest point of the bluffs overlooking the Chained Rock. Ryan’s car was parked in the turn off, and John was in time to see the kid walking toward the antiquated toilet pavilion by the edge of the woods. He was carrying a small plastic container, and walking oddly—kind of like a robot, or zombie, or something. Ryan set the container by the Men’s entrance, then walked slowly back to his car, got in, and drove off.
John was making his way across the lawn when he saw the door open slightly. A gloved hand reached down and retrieved the container, then closed the door.
Unable to control his curiosity, John continued to the door, paused, then quietly turned the knob and eased in, confronting a musty smell of old urine and furtive sex.
The frat used the toilets once or twice a year for some of its initiations, and John could think of new uses for Luke’s porn business.
The stone & wood pavilion was a relic of the 1930’s, when even humble park facilities were made from field stone and carved oak. The large square room was now nearly dark, but John could make out the continuous urinal slab on the right and the four stalls to the left. The stalls had been built as solid rooms, with wooden walls and doors all the way to the concrete floor, with hinged transoms above for ventilation.
The last stall had been out of service as long as anyone could remember. Hell, the ‘Out-of-Service’ sign looked like it had been printed in the 40’s or even earlier. The door always sported a rusty chain and antique padlock.
The door was open, but there did not seem to be a toilet inside. In fact, there did not appear to be anything at all inside.
The light was fading fast, and John stepped forward, not sure if he saw stairs disappearing down into the dark.
But then, too late, he had that funny feeling that someone was watching him. He heard the door click shut and he spun around.
The man, whom John had never seen before, said
Don't worry about Ryan. He is one of mine. As you will be.
The flash of bright, acid-green light overwhelmed him.
And he knelt and opened his mouth and was fulfilled.