Full Fathom Five

by Boy Mercury X

2 Jan 2018 1324 readers Score 9.4 (24 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


1.

It was impossible to contain my anxiety. I not only had confirmation that Dad might be alive, but the knowledge he might so close to us, just a few miles away on a private island compound in Puget Sound run by the Algiers Group. Tony had at last told me everything, and I was maybe a little full of myself. After four years of being the lone holdout, Dad’s former partner Tony was with me on this. We were going to rescue Dad, together.

Tony reiterated that what we were doing was without agency sanction or knowledge, and that we might not make it out ourselves. But this was beyond his job as an agent. He was Dad’s partner, and I was his son. If Dad was a captive of Algiers, the same sex trafficking ring that used him as a child, this was a sacred mission, and ours alone.

Just the same, Tony took precautions. He re-established his dormant cover identity as a perv high tech millionaire. He explained to me how he set timed email communications to other undercover agents. If we didn’t make it back within three days to deactivate the messages, they’d send, detailing what we did. This wasn’t to rescue us, he told me emphatically, but to let them know what happened. Because if it came down to that, we’d probably be dead ourselves.

Lying to Mom was the easiest part of it all, but emotionally the hardest. There was no way she could think I was going away with Tony. So he left home on a fake go-away mission, which was not unusual and should not rouse her suspicions. In reality he sat it out in a motel just out of the city, prepping for our mission. Two days later I staged my return to school from spring break, pretending to have a ride with as friend.

I met Tony at the motel and set everything in motion. Tony reached out to the Algiers Club, wanting a weekend at the island for his himself and his son – me - for the boy’s 20th birthday. I couldn’t believe it was really happening.

“Kid,” he said to me, “you have got to fucking swear to follow my lead. No matter what happens, no matter what you see or learn, we both have to play it cool. “

“I understand.”

“Ah Jesus Christ, I know you think you do, but you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “The fuck am I doing taking a dumb kid into this?”

“Tony, I swear. I can do it.”

“Will, you are going to need complete self control here. No crazy. No heroics. If we find anything real, we come back with agents. This is just reconnaissance. If you pull anything and we get killed, it does your old man no good at all, understand?”

I nodded yes.

“I see you getting emotional, breaking character, whatever, I’ll give you this reminder to rein it in,” he said, and ran his finger back and forth along the left side of his jaw. “You see that, you snap to. You gotta remember we are playing characters here. “

“I remember.”

“You have to trust me.”

“I trust you Tony. I do.”

Tony shook his head and chuckled, despite the gravity of the situation, saying, “You look so much like him, it’s really hard sometimes. Feels like the old days on a job together with your dad.”

I liked hearing that I was like my dad. I knew I’d need to be like him.


2.

Tony made me jerk off before we left. The sex stuff at the Algiers Club would be crazy, he explained, and you make better decisions when you’re not so aroused. I asked Tony why he didn’t jerk off too, and he said it was because he wasn’t a twenty year-old kid with a non-stop boner.

We drove to a designated meeting spot, my heart pounding in my ears the whole time. We were met there by men in flawless black suits. They ushered us into as limousine to take us to our destination. The windows were darkened to pitch black from the interior so we couldn’t see where we were or where we were going, But before too long I knew we were out in the water. Growing up in the area I knew the feel and sounds of a car boarding a ferry and then lurching into the Puget Sound. I tried to count the minutes we were in the water, until I felt the ferry docking, and our disembarking at what I knew must be the island complex of the Algiers group.

Tony wore a suit, which I only saw him do twice before, at Dad’s funeral and at his wedding to Mom. I guess it had become his outfit for bad days. I didn’t have anything like a suit, just a pressed shirt and dress slacks, but Tony told me no one expected a kid like me to be dressed up.

“Cheer up, son,” he said in the limo, assuming the boisterous voice of his character, stroking his jaw. “You’re going to a weekend of non-stop fucking, not a funeral!”

“Yup,” I replied, planting a fake grin on my face.

At the Algiers Club we emerged from the limo in the rain. Even though it was pouring we stood under the shelter of a grand awning spanning a walkway and didn’t get wet. I could see the complex was huge - bigger than I could take in so close to it. But the exterior was simple, making it easier to blend in with the surrounding evergreen woods. It made sense they’d be low profile.

The interior was something else entirely. The discrepancy between the low-key exterior and what lay within was so jarring I looked to Tony for a moment for a reality check. Think of the most high-class place you’ve ever seen and multiply it by 100. Every surface was marble or leather or material I didn’t even know the name of. And it wasn’t gaudy exactly, but you knew it was all made of money.

The club was immense, and we were escorted through on the way to the lounge for a prearranged meeting. On the way, club areas were pointed out. There was an arena for gladiator style fuck matches, complete with champions who incited cheers. There were rooms designed for every kink fantasy, from dungeons to middle class kitchens to zoo cages. There were guest suites of varying degrees of luxury, and codes of conduct. But like smoke, the codes dissipated the higher they went, so the top luxury rooms had no codes of conduct at all, only ready teams assigned for cleanup in the event of fantasies that went out of control.

The people were dressed every way possible, all on their own trip. Some wore tuxedos and some sleazy outfits, some in jeans and sweaters. The only uniformity in dress was in the black collars work by the sex slaves and the indentured who sold themselves to Algiers. Although they otherwise wore a ranger of S&M gear, or were completely naked, they all wore the same collar with a double sided tag. When the tag was flipped to the white side it meant they were available for public use. But if a customer claimed one for any duration, they flipped the tag to the black side.

Once you claimed one, they were subject to your whims. You could fuck one right in a hallways, take two or more to your room and do anything that turned you on. It was all covered in the price of admission, as a basic amenity.

Showing me, Tony randomly grabbed one of the slave women with a white ring showing. He ground his crotch against her and ran his thick fingers over her smooth skin. He roughly grabbed at her breasts and sucked hungrily on on one nipple and then the other. He finished with a growl, setting her loose with a slap on her ass.

“Ever see titties like those anywhere else, son?” he asked in a bellow, smacking his lips.

“What the fuck?” I hissed between clenched teeth.

“Play the part, Will,” he whispered back, patting my shoulder. “Happy to be here, remember?”
“Right, right,” I said, trying to resume a cheerful demeanor.

Then he took my face in both his hands and kissed me hard and full on the lips. We’d kissed many times over the last years, but always in private. I felt a rush as his mouth met mine while people passed by us, but of course no one at the Algiers Club thought a thing of it. It was in fact the one place where my own dark twists were almost mundane.

“Will,” he said in a hush, our faces eye-to-eye between smacks of his mouth on mine, “try to not get me killed here, okay?”


3.

We were on our way to meet Mr. Sparrow in the lounge. He was, Tony had explained, the man who ran the Algiers Club, and from it the sex trafficking region. I didn’t know how far that region extended, but Tony told me in an ancient business like the Algiers Ring, higher ups were in it for life, and Mr. Sparrow was as established as they get.

The lounge was a vast dark room of individual semi private lounges. Circular marble tables were ringed by curving sofas, and in turn each was partitioned by massive floor to ceiling aquariums. Exotic fish swam up and down through softly swaying kelp, partially obscuring views between each individual lounge.

The effect was of a sea of interconnected chambers, with varying degrees of privacy to expose yourself and your slave to the degree desired. Throbbing house music played at a low volume contributed to the undersea feeling. Each chamber had an individual server dedicated to that chamber for the evening, and as long as cost was not an object anything was to be had. Each had a post about waist high at its entrance, with a loop at the top.

“What’s that?” I asked Tony quetly.

“Like a… hitching post,” he explained.

It took me a moment to realize he meant for tethering slaves.

The closer to the center of the lounge, the larger and more elaborate the aquariums became, leading to the most grand of all, which was our destination. At the table was seated an older Asian man. He was big, bigger even than the security staff I’d seen, but more like Sumo wrestler than just fat. He wore an immaculate black suit, crisp blue shirt and black and silver tie. He was flanked by a number of younger men who all wore black suits, white shirts, black ties and dark sunglasses. Tony told me those were his bodyguards.

At the entrance he had tethered to the hitching post a male slave, facing him. Even from just the rear it was easy to see what a perfectly sculpted body he had, clad in a black leather harness and leather pants that left his ass exposed. On his head was a black leather mask that covered everything but his mouth.

Tony nodded to the big man, and said with his head still slightly bowed, “Mr. Sparrow.”

“Mr. Anthony,” replied the big man, Mr. Sparrow, breaking into a wide and warm smile, looking up from seated position. He rested his hand on a white walking cane but did not use it to rise up. “So good to have you return to us.”

“Mr. Sparrow,” said Tony, bowing slightly, “it’s good to return. This is my boy, Will.”

Mr. Sparrow smiled at me, drawing my attention fully. “Ah the young prince at last,” he said. “Welcome! Welcome my fine boy. Sit, sit.”

Tony and I took up the only two spots at the sofa, across from each other, with Sparrow’s bodyguards sitting between us and their master.

Sparrow and his took up so much of the sofa it left only two spots, across from each other. My eyes were caught by the brilliant colors of the fishing swimming through the aquarium that surrounded us. They were even more brilliant than those in the lesser areas, and the aquarium filled with huge living corals and oysters. The beat of the house music was barely audible here, but familiar to my ears.

“I imagine you’ve never seen anything quite like this,” Sparrow said to me.

“It’s a lot to take in,” I answered. I paused as my mind made a connection, and said, “I know this song. It’s by Blowoff. I listen to it all the time.”

Sparrow just nodded, and Tony said to him, “Very kind of you to meet with us personally.”

At a wave of his hand, servers brought tall flutes of champagne to the table for Sparrow, Tony and me.  He raised his, and we followed suit, holding up ours and then drinking.

“There are no guests more precious to me tonight,” Sparrow announced. “I’m pleased to have you returned to us, unburdened by the unpleasantness of past events. And for your ward, get them young and the possibilities are endless, as they say.”

Sparrow had such gravity that as he spoke everything else - the bodyguards and servers, the hooded slave, the music, the debauchery around us fading into the background.

“Gentlemen,” he continued, “Let us enjoy some of the unique pleasures of our island home.”

He reached down to unzip his black dress slacks, pulling out a fat cock a nest of fine black fur.  He looked up to the leather clad slave attending our station and said, “Calvin, come.”

Calvin?

I looked to the slave. The musculature was exaggerated beyond what I remembered. But otherwise it was his shape and size. The same pattern of body hair. And there, under the left pec, a dot sized third nipple.

“Dad?” I stammered.


4.

“Yes Will,” said Tony firmly, drawing my attention to him. He was stroking his jaw, the signal to me to keep calm, to keep our cover.

I fought to keep from bolting up, to maintain an appearance of calm. “Nothing,” I said. “Just a lot to take in.”

Fuck, I’d said that just a few minutes earlier. I knew as hard as this was I had to stay in character. If I blew this we’d be dead, Tony told me. Worse, we’d never rescue Dad, even after finding him.

Sparrow chuckled and ordered his slave, “Calvin, service me. Show our guests all pleasures are to be had at my table.”

After so long I didn’t know if I could be sure it was Dad under the form fitting black hood that exposed only his mouth. He moved blindly toward the table, feeling around with his hands while the bodyguards chuckled at his efforts. He then dropped to his knees before Sparrow, feeling his way along with his hands till he registered recognition of the older man’s thick thighs.

I watched closely, looking for any way to judge his identity with certainty. But the hood had not even opening for his ears, or even his nose - just two tiny plugs that must insert into his nostrils. He was stripped of all identity and all these senses not required in a slave. He was just a mouth that gaped looking for Sparrow’s cock. And when he found it, he swallowed it whole, burying it deep in his throat, gulping like a starving man.

“I thought you ran to more, eh, feminine tastes,” Tony said to Sparrow, as he watched the slave suck Sparrow’s cock as if it were his whole life, moving up the full length to lick the head and then plunging down to swallow again and again. Even in the lounge with the ambient sound of music and debauchery, I could hear the mucus as he worked the thick erection into his throat.

“It’s 2017, Mr. Anthony,” said Sparrow, “and Algiers is nothing if not current. Even many of our most traditional guests acknowledge there is something special to be had in the throat of the male of the species. And Calvin is so... gifted.”

“Is he, um, a little old?” Tony asked. “Not a boy from the look of him.”

“Calvin is in the peak of manhood,” Sparrow answered, inhaling deeply and spreading his legs wider as he thrust his cock into the slave’s mouth. “This peak is precise moment when the vigor of youth crests up against the masculinity of age. It is a brief time, alas, but splendid when it occurs.”

Sparrow wrapped his big meaty hands around the slave’s head and pulled it down to his black pubes. Sparrow’s hips thrust faster until he gasped, and I could tell he was shooting a load into the slave’s throat. As all airways were closed and his throat filled, the slave choked and his lean muscled frame convulsed, but still he suck and swallowed.

Sparrow gasped and sat back, letting go of the slave’s hooded head. He inhaled deeply and chuckled as the slave continued to work his cock and balls, desperately sucking any lingering  semen out of his master.


5.

When he had finally nursed every trace of cum, Sparrow had the slave lean back. Through the mouth slit his lips were red from friction, smeared with body fluids. His broad handsome chest was dewy with sweat from the choking blow job he’d provided. I couldn’t help but believe it was my father in there, despite the behavior so unlike him. Even built up, it looked so like his body, down to the telltale tiny third nipple.  

“Calvin,” said Mr. Sparrow, running his big hands over the hooded face, “is a most extraordinary specimen.”

Sparrow unzipped the hood, and carefully peeled it from the slave’s head. It lifted to reveal the face I had thought so long on.  Dad.

I must have gasped, and felt my eyes well up. His face looked older, and his hair was shaved short, the little there mussed and sweaty from being under the hood. But it was him. The real difference was the vacant look in his face. I thought he’d see me and we’d fall into each other’s arms. But if he saw me at all it didn’t register in his flat expression.

Dad, Dad… what did they do to you, I wondered.

“Stand, Calvin. Let me show you off,” asked Sparrow, having his showpiece rise for display. “Is he not exquisite in form? Did ever one of the great masters immortalize such as this in stone?”

Neither Tony not I responded, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Young prince,” Sparrow continued, looking directly at me, “do you know the difference between great art and a masterpiece?”

I nodded no.

“Restraint,” he said, cocking his head back to better look at my father. “Singular beauty, a masterpiece, is a fragile balance achieved only through the discipline of restraint. Do you understand?”

I nodded no again.

“Look at Bernini’s greatest works,” Sparrow continued. “Your eyes will defy your reasoning mind. You will believe Hades fingertips are truly pressed into the living flesh of Persephone, though they are cold marble. How do you think this is achieved? Restraint. Not one shave more of the stone, not one less.”

He turned Dad around, showing the V taper from his broad shoulders to his slim hips, then turning again to trace a finger up from full package to his lean abs and then cupping his full pec. He gave a slight twist to one nipple and Dad’s abs flexed.

“As a species we seek perfection, but in the very pursuit is its ruination, because we do not have the discipline of restraint.” Sparrow explained. “Let us take Calvin here. Many would build his body yet more than I have, to the point of vulgarity. But what we have here now is near perfection.”

He ran fus fingers over up Dad’s throat and over his jawline, lifting his head.

“I have practiced restraint in form and in function. Many have wished to, for remarkable sums, use his body frequently and wantonly. It is a very human thing, of course. But such misuse would with time deaden the experience. Instead, I keep Calvin for more special purposes, so he truly feels each violation.”

Sparrow waved to a server who poured a second round of drinks for me and Tony. I drank mine quickly. I felt frozen on the spot by this horrible display, but wondered if I stood and grabbed Dad’s hand how far we could run. With the half dozen bodyguards flanking us, it seemed we might not make it five feet.

“Calvin is a special prize. Shall I tell you more?” Sparrow asked. “He was born to Algiers, as have been his ancestors since the days of the Roman Empire. His is a line of whores and whoresons all, going back to our most humble days, before the splendor you see before you now.

“But in recent decades this slave was was taken from us by your paramilitary forces. He was not the only loss in that raid. In truth there were many losses that day that made one whoreson barely worth note. Still, it is rare for Algiers to lose one of our own as we did with Calvin. But imagine the singular fortune of having once lost him, years later to regain him. Now that is a prize!”

Sparrow laughed, as did his bodyguards. Dad was still, as if he had vacated his body. I hoped like Tony and me he was acting out a part. I could almost see him springing into action to rescue us from this place.

Sparrow turned his attention to Tony, and said, “Mr. Anthony, I extend Calvin to you, in recognition of this momentous visit. Calvin, serve our guest as if he were me.”

As Tony unzipped his pants, a sly smile spread over his face, and he said “Don’t mind if I do!”


6.

What the fuck was Tony playing? I know we were supposed to be in character, but we were there to rescue Dad, not this.

Oblivious to my accelerating anxiety, Tony pulled out his thick cock and looked on in wonder as Dad knelt between his legs. I waited for him to do something - to say he changed his mind, to pull out a gun and shoot the bodyguards. But he just sat there grinning as Dad leaned his face in and ran his full tongue from the base of Tony’s cock to the tip. He licked the head and wrapped his lips around it. In one swift motion he plunged down, shoving Tony’s entire erection down his throat, gagging himself at the root.

“Holy fuck,” Tony gasped. His face read amazement and satisfaction as his former partner choked on his cock.

I could hear the sound of gunk in Dad’s throat as Tony’s cockhead shoved deeper in, and despite everything I could feel my own briefs go wet with my own precum. How could I be turned on by this horror show, I wondered.

“Oh my God, oh my fucking GOD!” Tony groaned. He was louder and more excited than when I sucked him off, “In your throat Cal, take it all the way, unnnnnfffffff….”

I noticed how everything seemed very far away. With the low throb of house music and the slow gliding of the tropical fish swimming by I felt I was sinking into a deep sea, I thought of Houdini handcuffed in the bank safe, dropped into the bay, and it all seemed very calm to me.

I slumped on the sofa, watching Tony facefuck my dad, and it all seemed so right. My hand slipped down to wrap around my crotch where I could feel my cock stiff in my pants. I could jerk off, I thought, but it felt good just holding it like that.

“You are relaxing,” said Sparrow, standing over me. “This is very good. We have introduced some chemicals to help ease your inhibitions.”

I knew he said something about chemicals, but I didn’t catch it all. The music sounded so familiar but I couldn’t place it.

“Here it comes,” I heard Tony roar. “Take it Cal! Oh FUCK, suck out all the cum, fuckkkkkk!”

I turned my head slightly to watched Tony pump his full load of cum down my father’s eager throat. His hips ground and my father’s adam’s apple bobbed, and I slumped further down on the sofa, unable to hold myself up.

I noticed how the ceiling of the lounge was patterned with what looked like currents in the ocean. I was sinking so slowly and it looked so beautiful. Then I realized why the music was familiar. It was Blind, by Hercules & Love Affair, a song I knew well. How funny that earlier the music was by Blowoff, and now another song I had on my own playlist.

“Young Mister Miranda?” asked Sparrow, “You are amused?”

“Where’s your music from?” I muttered with slow numb lips, watching the slow current pass on the ceiling.

“From your laptop,” said Tony. He was standing over me beside Mr. Sparrow. He looked straight into my face as he tucked his spent dick back into his pants.

“Sorry kid,” said Tony, “You’re fucked.”


END, ACT THREE OF FIVE. TO BE CONTINUED.



by Boy Mercury X

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