A Friday night came in the middle of the summer, our first Friday. His wife was out of the state, at a relative's place for some wedding. Ben told her he had a sudden work deadline to meet, and now we had a whole weekend to ourselves. It was strange and exhilarating, knowing that I'd have a chance to wake up next to him, to fuck him in the bed he and his wife shared. The hidden camera would record it all, and I'd have a detailed digital memory of it forever. The cold part of me scolded myself for allowing such softness to take root, but it was barely there, a faded wraith. I was allowing myself to be happy. To be naive about what I was doing to him, to his wife, to myself. It felt good.

A warm evening was falling, stars and darkness. I parked the van a couple blocks over and walked to his house carrying a six pack, playing the part of a friend who just wanted to watch the game. He answered the door with a friendly greeting, smiling warmly. He was in a loose white collared shirt and tight-enough jeans, his glasses glinting over his toothy grin. He patted me on the back with his meaty forearm as he shut the door behind me. After the veneer fell away, I was on him. I couldn't get enough of him. My hands slithered up his shirt, my mouth closed around his neck -

"Woah, woah!" he cried, holding me at arm's length. "Slow down there, man. I only just got home from work, you know."

I put the six pack in his hands. "Have a couple of these, then." I looked around the little house, pretending this was the first time I was seeing its interior. "Cute place, Benjamin."

He shrugged, half-smiling, and took the beer into the kitchen. "Yeah, it's cozy. The couch folds out into a sofa-bed. It's comfortable - we can ah...sleep there."

Disappointment sank into me, mild as it was. "Don't you have a bed?"

"Well, yeah..." He emerged from the kitchen with two open beers, handed me one. "But I...I'm not too cool with doing...anything...on it." He shrugged. I took a deep swig. "It just doesn't feel right."

I laughed a bit. "I don't think keeping your bed clean is going to balance out everything else you're doing to her."

He nodded, drank his beer. "I don't really want to talk about that."

We stood in the living room for a bit, drinking in silence, before the stagnation became unbearable to me. "Come on," I said. "If we leave now, we'll get downtown right when everybody's at their drunkest."


"Yeah - I want to take you to a club. Just off 8th Street. I think we'll have fun."

He went a little pale, shook his head. "No...no no no, no way. I can't be seen at a gay club. If anybody sees me - no. Just, no."

I hardened my brow, took a step toward him. "I don't recall asking if you wanted to..." My voice was cold. He shivered, but he didn't move away. Was that fear, or excitement? "Trust me; you won't see anybody you know at this club. Not tonight. Not any night, really, considering the crowd you run with." I smiled at him, squeezed his shoulder. "We're just going to have a couple drinks and watch the show. You'll have fun. It'll be like a...date, almost. Wouldn't it be great to walk into a room full of strangers, and have all of them know we were there together? Wouldn't it be great knowing that half of them would immediately be wondering how we fucked each other? That most of them will want to fuck us, or get fucked by us? It'll get us both really randy, I bet, and then we can come back here, open that sofa bed, light some candles, and..." I pumped my hips at him, smoothly and with yearning, biting my lip. I was hard just thinking about it, and it showed. "Best foreplay you can imagine. Foreplay to the foreplay, anyway. I'm gonna break that sofa bed under you. I'm gonna make you explode by the end of it."

He blushed and smiled. He looked away and crossed his arms over his chest like a bashful high school kid, not sure what to do with himself. "Fine...fine, great. If you say so. But I'm not driving."

I punched his shoulder playfully. "Definitely not. Let's take a walk."

I let him have another beer before we left, even let him take one in the van while we drove south toward downtown. I wanted him to be nice and limber by the time we arrived, so we could start having fun immediately. I don't know why I wanted to take him out into a public place so badly. Perhaps it was because I was getting anxious, being stuffed away in the van or in some desolate corner of the outer city every time we fucked. Perhaps I just wanted to show him off - or I just needed to see what it was like, being with him in a throng of people, eyes upon eyes, knowing but not knowing.

"So you know all about what I do, who my friends are..." He had one forearm hanging out the open window, wind blowing through his hair. "What is it you do? You never told me, not really."

I kept my eyes on the highway. "You're right! I didn't."

"Come on..." The alcohol again, making him all pushy.

"It's not very...legal." I sniffed. "Freelance, I guess. I get around, I've got a reputation. I can...get into places. I get get ahold of...items, sometimes. Information, and proof of it, more often than not."

"What, like corporate espionage? Thought you'd have a nicer ride."

I laughed. "Blackmail. The people I work for have some very powerful men in their pockets. I'm really good at what I do. You should know." He grunted, embarrassed, but I didn't linger on the unpleasantness. "Problem is, I usually end up working for some very bad men. I don't hurt people or anything; never had the stomach for that sort of thing...but the guys who employ me..."

He laughed nervously. "You can't be serious! You're a thief? For mobsters? You?"

I grinned. "Believe what you want."

"Oh, I will," he said. "I'll believe you work at a Best Buy."

We parked the van in a crowded garage. I told Ben to leave his glasses in the glove box. The streets were packed with strangers' faces, all shapes and colors and sexes, loud and drunk on a river of vibrant nightlife. Ben walked with his hands in his pockets, not looking anyone in the eye. I lead him by his elbow so he wouldn't run into anyone, pulling us through packed lines. Even this was erotic, having him vulnerable without his glasses, at the mercy of my guidance.

When we finally arrived, we didn't have to wait long. I'd worn a tight shirt, gussied up my hair. Ben was Ben, open collar revealing manly fuzz and curvy muscles. I did some flirting. Ben blushed when the bouncer complimented his looks. They let us in.

We paid our cover, and the young man behind the counter handed us two gaudy masks, black and blue and pink, Venetian dollar store. "Here you go. You really should have brought your own, but they'll do."

"What's this?" Ben asked.

"Just put it on. You didn't want anybody to recognize you, right?"

Faces covered, we ducked into the booming club. Rapid beats washed over us, through us, reverberating in our lungs. We were greeted by a sea of masks under pink and violet neon, flashing green, each mask floating above a sweaty, scantly clad male body. A gilded meat market. Pure, lusty spectacle.

"Seriously! What is this?"

"Carnival Night," I told him. "Let's get some drinks in us."

It took a hard drink or two, but we ended up enjoying ourselves. We found a small table and tried to talk, but gave up when it became apparent that the music would not let us hear ourselves, and the masks would not let us read our lips. We watched the dancing revelers and their grinding hips, their public sex acts, their heaving bellies. I put my hand on Ben's crotch under the table, found it hard. He paused for a moment, then let his hand slide over my thigh and onto my throbbing cock beneath my jeans. No one looked; no one cared. He smirked beneath the feathers of his mask, and his fingers grew more bold.

The night wore on, and the drinks kept coming. We finally shed our shirts and joined the thrashing mass of horny bodies in nothing but our masks and our jeans, sweaty and brimming with lust. It felt good to have eyes on me, and to be so anonymous at the same time. I could tell Ben was enjoying it as well, for he whooped and rolled his hips, generating a number of cheers from appreciative onlookers. I put my fingers into his belt loop and began to grind on him, claiming him, letting the liquor guide me, loving every second of it. I ran my hands up his torso and neck, my cock raging against his hip. "I thought you didn't like the idea of fucking in public," I said to him over the pulse of the music.

He shrugged as his hands felt their way across my flanks, over the muscles of my back. "This ain't exactly fucking," he replied. "Besides - nobody knows who the fuck I am!" This last part was a scream, and it ignited more cheers. I slapped his ass, and we pressed our hot crotches into each other in a gyrating tangle while the masked flesh parade swarmed around us, fucking us with their minds.

It went on this way for some time before I saw him. Up by the bar, a masked man in a blue suit, very much out of place. He was watching us, and he raised his glass when we locked eyes. I knew those eyes.

"Ben - Ben. We've got to go."

"What?" He yelled over the music. "Why?"

I pulled my shirt out of my belt and took my mask off long enough to pull it over my head. "I just - " I leaned in. "I want to get you home and fuck your brains out."

He grinned. "Sounds good!" He pulled his shirt on, began to button it up as I pulled him toward the exit. We hadn't gotten two steps off the dance floor before another masked man in a suit appeared. He took my arm, and I felt a jab of metal on my ribs. Damn.

"Mr. Pendrick wants to see you," the man barked, and led me toward the bar.

Ben followed, confused but not terribly alarmed. He hadn't seen the gun, thanks to the liquor flowing through him. Perfect. "Someone you know?" he called.

"Yeah," I called back, not knowing what else to say. Was this really happening? I worked for Pendrick - had for many years. He was always civil with me - warm even, due to our long, sordid history. I knew of only one reason he would act otherwise, and it wasn't good.

The man with the gun took us into a secluded nook, where the roar of the club was somewhat muted. Pendrick was there, sitting calmly at the table with an empty glass in his hand. I knew it was him despite the mask. His eyes were piercing blue, and the beard seemed to swim around his white teeth when he grinned. "Jonathan! It's been much, much too long, my dear boy."

"Mr. Pendrick." I held out my hand, and he shook it firmly, eyes locking onto mine. "Good to see you again, sir."

He waved his hand. "Bah, don't you 'sir' me, Jonathan. 'Mr. Pendrick' is fine. It was always fine. Don't bother sitting."

Ben stood awkwardly at my side, knowing instinctively that he should stay quiet, which I was thankful for. The man with the gun was still gripping my arm. "Mr. Pendrick, it's really great to see you, truly. If you'd like me to do a job I'd be more than happy to, but I'd appreciate it if we could go about setting it up the usual way - "

"I do have a job, in fact. One of my apartments recently had a break-in...I know it's not your usual area of expertise, but I thought perhaps you might have some information on such a thing...?"

My skin went cold. My stomach dropped. I had been so careful...

Pendrick smiled. "Whoever it was, they knew how to disable the alarm and the security cameras...professional stuff, really. Strange, though - they didn't steal anything. Aside from electricity, and water, and my sense of security." He sneered at me. "It would have been impossible to figure out who did it without alerting the authorities, but lo and behold - the intruder missed a camera. Out in the alley. It recorded his face...and the face of the man who came with him."

I grinned numbly. "Then I guess you don't need me after all. We were just going - "

The gun dug into my side, reminding me of its presence. Pendrick smiled. "Why don't you both come with me, Jonathan? We'll get these ridiculous masks off and have a conversation face-to-face, as men. It will be pleasant, after so many years of speaking to you through middle-men and coded texts."

"Where are we going?" Ben asked as the four of us went toward the back of the club.

"Private party," was all I could manage over the din of the music and the revelers. Another masked man in a suit joined us, flanked us, hemmed us in. I didn't tell Ben about the gun, or the danger we were in. How could I? What difference would it have made?

We went through a closed door and up a flight of stairs, black paint on everything, lit with pink neon tubes that crept beneath the ceiling. "This is a filthy place," Pendrick was saying, now that it was somewhat quieter. "We don't come here all that often. When we do, it's usually because we want to get filthy as well. The owner is a personal friend of mine, and he doesn't ask questions. Very accommodating, in fact."

We came to a hallway on the second floor, dark and narrow with a few numbered doors leading off of it. We paused and pressed ourselves against the wall to make way for yet another man in a suit, grim faced and broad. He was guiding a young man toward the staircase, and neither of them wore masks. The young guy, college-aged, was barely clothed, wearing nothing but a pair of short shorts and sneakers. His lean body was toned and sweaty, and his face was beautiful and symmetrically formed, a real model-type. His eyes were half-shut. He'd been drugged. The only reason he didn't tumble down the stairs was the fact that the man in the suit was holding him up. This was a bad sign. "Sorry about that," Pendrick said politely before we moved along. Ben was beginning to sober up.

We went down to the last room on the left, opened the door, and entered. The room was small and round. A long, curved, padded bench hugged the wall, and a low, sturdy wooden table sat in the center. The walls above the benches were mirrored, floor and ceiling black, all of it lit from above by shimmering pink light. The mirrors were vibrating in time with the music that was blasting throughout the club, but for the most part any sound from outside was muffled.

The room was not empty of people. Three older gentlemen sat to our left on the curved couch, weathered and frail. They wore suits as nice as Pencrick's, collars open, ties hanging. They had drinks in hand, laughing at some joke, eying us as we entered the room. There was a hunger in their gaze that I was quite familiar with. Ben sensed it too, his breathing stiff.

Pendrick took off his mask and let it fall to the floor. The two suited men with us took their masks off as well. One was bald, pale, sinewy and clean-shaven. The other was bearded and broad. I recognized them, and I wished I hadn't. Pendrick's bodyguards. Hard men. Bad men.

The bald bodyguard took off our masks and dumped them with the rest, then took both of us by the arm and led us to the middle of the room to stand next to the table. The bearded one locked the door behind us and took a seat opposite the old men, leaving a sizable space between them. The gun was out in the open now, dangling lazily from his hand, half pointed at us. The bald one whispered something into his ear as he took his seat next to him, and they both grinned evilly.

Pendrick welcomed the older men with open arms. "Mr. Bowing, Mr. Roland, Mr. Lavato - we have a really lovely surprise tonight! Not the young, fresh, run-of-the-mill festivities I had planned, but something very special." He turned and presented us. "I'd like to you meet Jonathan, an old errand boy - and rent boy - of mine. And this is...well, I don't know his name. Jonathan's bitch." He grinned widely. "Jonathan here has to be taught a lesson tonight."

"Woah," Ben whispered, as if he hadn't been listening to a word. His eyes were fixed on the bearded bodyguard. "Johnny, that - that guy has a gun."

I grabbed his arm, stilled him. "I know. We'll be okay, though - just do what I tell you to do and we'll make it out of here, got it?"

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing under auburn stubble. Sweat was glistening on his brow, pink in this unnatural light. "Sure. Got it."

"Are we done passing notes?" Pendrick asked from behind us. His voice was strong and proud, a vice of iron. "If so, I'd like to lay down some ground rules."

"Ground rules...?" Ben started.

I yanked his arm. I turned to Pendrick and smiled warmly, hands clasped together, the picture of respect. "Mr. Pendrick, like I said, I really am sorry about what happened. I know I overstepped my bounds - I know that. I guess I was just...I wanted to impress a fine man, and I knew I couldn't do that with my own things. I guess I...wasn't thinking with the right head." I jerked my head at Ben, and the old men laughed. "I am completely willing to do whatever I have to, in order to make it up to you." I stepped away from Ben. "Ben here had nothing to do with it, however, and I'd be much obliged if you'd allow him to step out of the room while we...discuss whatever arrangements need to be made."

Pendrick had his arms crossed over his suit, studying me with cold eyes and a slight smirk. "Well, Jonathan, that's a very nice offer...but it's unnecessary. You see, you used my property. Without asking me. I think it's only fair...that I take the same liberties with yours." There was a subtle wave of his fingers. Both of his bodyguards were up and across the room in milliseconds. The bald one snaked around Ben and put his arms under his shoulders, restraining him easily. Ben didn't have time to move, didn't even comprehend what was going on until it was too late. I moved toward him instinctively, but found myself staring down the barrel of the bearded bodyguard's gun.

Pendrick clapped his hands, and the old men hooted at the excitement. "Don't resist this, Jonathan. It will only make us harder on both of you."

"Johnny...?" Ben was tense, but he wasn't trying to get away. He must have known that it'd be useless. He had no leverage at all, and there was still the gun.

"Stay calm," I told him. His eyes were wide and wet, face slack. Perhaps he was in shock.

The bearded gunman jerked the weapon toward the empty couch. "Sit down, Johnny Boy." I did as I was told. I knew Pendrick, knew these people. I knew what they were capable of, and I found myself wanting to pray, wishing I could do it, wishing there were anything to it.

Pendrick stepped between us, looking Ben over. "I have to say, Jonathan - you really have wonderful taste." He put a hand on Ben's bicep, squeezing it, caressing it, inspecting it. The hand moved over to Ben's meaty pec, his upper stomach, his flank, feeling him up through the loose shirt. The bald bodyguard who held him still had his eyes glued on the nape of Ben's neck, his pale face pressed against Ben's ear, stealing tastes of his sweat with a darting tongue. Ben stiffened, stared forward, watching it happen in the mirror behind Pendrick, behind me. His lip was quivering.

"Please, Mr. Pendrick..." I found myself muttering. "Please don't..." He turned to me, the rough silver fox, and flashed a white grin through his beard. His hand went into the inner pocket of his jacket and produced a switchblade. It rang as he unsheathed it, gleaming under the dull lights. I went cold.

Ben snapped out of his stupor at the sight of it. "No!" he shouted, thrashing against the bodyguard. "No please I didn't do anything!"

"Tell your bitch to hold still and shut the fuck up," Pendrick ordered.

"Quiet, Ben!" I cried. "You'll be fine, I promise, just do what I tell you! Remember? Stay still!" Pendrick advanced on him, blade in hand, and Ben looked as if he were about to panic. "Ben! Look at me!" He did, and something he found there seemed to calm him. He stopped thrashing. "Trust me," I told him. "It'll be over at some point. Just trust me."

"Fuck," he squeaked, and was still.

Pendrick grabbed Ben's collar and pulled the fabric of the shirt away from his body. He inserted the blade between the buttons and brought it up in one fluid motion, splitting the shirt down the middle. The white fabric billowed open to reveal Ben's buxom, slightly furred muscles, the curved, toned landscape of his torso that I loved so much. The buttons clattered on the floor.

Pendrick whistled, and the old men cooed at the sight of it. "Exquisite," Pendrick whispered as he ran his hand up the line of Ben's stomach, rubbed the fur of his chest. "Who knew there was all this man under that bearded baby face? I have to wonder, Jonathan, how does your bitch sound when he gets fucked?" His hand darted to Ben's nipple, and he twisted cruelly. Ben yelped and bucked against the bald bodyguard. The bald man laughed and held him tighter, no doubt digging a full erection into Ben's butt cheeks. Pendrick left the nipple to harden, patted the slope of the pec affectionately. "Something like that, I'd imagine. Though...I don't know why I should have to settle for that."

My fingers were digging into the leather of the couch. My face was on fire with indignation, and I was biting my cheek, tasting blood. I suppressed the angry ape in me, the part of me that wanted to rip that bald fuck away from Ben and pummel his domed head into the table until he died in a pulp of himself. But that would only get me killed, and Ben killed...eventually. I couldn't let that happen. "Please, Mr. Pendrick...I'm willing to make a deal. I really am!" Was my voice really that high?

"Oh, I'm sure you are." Pendrick knelt and popped open the button of Ben's jeans with his fingers. He pulled them open and jerked them down his thighs. Ben's boxers were plain and blue, loose around a sizable bulge that was, thankfully, nowhere near erect. Not that I expected that to cause Pendrick to lose interest. I only knew it was best not to encourage them.

Pendrick took a handful of Ben's boxers and pulled them away from his groin. He put the knife under the fabric, clinical and calm. Ben whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut, as Pendrick cut through the boxers with two hard yanks of the blade. He let the ruined garment fall down Ben's thick thigh, revealing the subtle curve of his naked hips and the strawberry blond bush of pubic hair that cradled his thick, limp cock and his drooping pink balls. The old men craned their sinewy necks to get a good view. The bald bodyguard's hands had migrated to Ben's pecs, getting a good feel while his eyes raked over the expanse of his nudity. Ben kept his eyes shut, limp in the man's arms, giving himself over to a situation he knew he couldn't possibly escape. He'd all but turned his brain off.

Pendrick took Ben's balls in hand, pulled them toward his nose, and sniffed. "Ah, he even smells lovely, like lavender soap. I can see why you like him so much, Jonathan."

I was nearly crawling out of my skin, but I could see what he was doing. He was taking his time, lording his power over me. If he wanted to rape Ben, he'd have gotten on with it already. He was playing with me, taking it as far as he could. "Just tell me what I have to do," I pleaded.

His eyes brightened as he stood up and faced me. "Simple, really. You used something that belonged to me for one night. Now I want something that belongs to you. For one night, Jonathan. In payment. To balance the scales. It can be your property..." He patted Ben's chest. "Or, it can be you. I'd certainly prefer you." He grinned again, and it pierced right through me. "It's been quite some time, but I'd love to reacquaint myself with my old errand boy I used to keep in my condo on the east side. I can get a hunk of meat like this one any night I want, but you...? That would be a real treat. And with all my friends around to share it with me! They won't just have to listen to my borish stories about that fabled ass of yours any longer. They can have a piece of it for themselves." He laughed, the old men laughed, even the bearded bodyguard holding the gun on me laughed. The bald was was still massaging Ben's chest, his shoulders, rubbing his foul crotch into Ben's bare ass and staring me down, reveling in his power. The bastards. The bastards!

The thought of giving myself back to Pendrick after all these years, even for one night, was repugnant to me. It overshadowed all reason, all other options. I had sworn to myself almost a decade ago that I'd never be fucked by this man again - or any man who wanted to make me a plaything for the sake of power. It was something that defined my adult life, somethingi that, I thought, made me a man - and I reeled from the idea of giving it up. "You can't be serious! I - I'm not subject to that sort of treatment any longer. You said so yourself, when you endorsed me. There has to be something else..."

Pendrick smiled sadly and turned back to Ben and the bald bodyguard. "Strip him," he told the bodyguard. "And don't enjoy yourself too much."

The bald man grinned and went about pulling Ben's ruined shirt off of his limp shoulders, taking every opportunity he could to run his hands over Ben's bare flesh. He pulled Ben's sandals off and made him step out of his jeans. After an awkward moment Ben was standing, fully nude, in the middle of the room. All eyes were on his naked body, drinking him in. He had a hand over his stomach, his genitals. His shoulders were shaking slightly, and he stared at the floor. Something began to pull at my brain, something strange and unfamiliar. I wanted to go to him, to hold him, to tell him I was sorry. I think I was actually feeling guilty for letting this go on, but I couldn't put words to it. I could only watch from my growing pool of dread, pulling at the chains I'd clamped around my own ankles.

"Go sit," Pendrick ordered, and the bald bodyguard joined his bearded companion next to me, tainting the air with his presence.

Pendrick guided Ben to the edge of the table almost lovingly, like a father, and then turned to me. "Jonathan...come here. I want you to see this." I rose and stood beside him, mechanical and numb. "Since your property is mine for the evening, I'm going to treat it as such. I am a generous man, Jonathan. I like sharing my things. Do you understand that?" I nodded. "Good. Good...now, tell your bitch to get on the table. On his hands and knees, with that glorious ass pointed at my good friends." The older men were pushing against each other for a closer vantage, lust glowing in their eyes.

"Johnny...?" Ben's voice wavered, soft and defeated.

"Do it, Ben."

"Fuck..." He went to his hands and knees on the table, completely nude, and the three older men fell on him like a pack of wolves. They didn't waste any time teasing him. They pinched his nipples, squeezed his balls, stuck a dry finger into his ass. He yelped at each of these invasions, watching it happen in the mirrors, unable to get away from it. He jerked away from each lewd set of hands, but every movement only sent him further into the clutches of another. His face was dark red even in the low light. His eyes darted around like a wild animal's as his bare flesh was probed from all directions. One of them had his hand in his pants, flanking Ben like a predator, eyes on his clenching ass.

It filled me with dull rage to see it, Ben being plundered these old fucks who only saw him as a toy. He was mine, god damn it. Mine! Still, as angry as I was, my cock was starting to tent my jeans. This was Ben, after all, naked and humiliated, golden skin reddening in a deep blush of shame. The indecent part of me, the cold thing that only saw the world through a lens of might makes right, was enthralled. It was a gut-wrenching pairing of emotions.

"Seriously, Jonathan." Mr. Pendrick's voice slithered into my ear. He was standing beside me, running his hand over my forearm, closing it around my tight fist. "This doesn't have to happen. I meant what I said. Just say the word, and it'll only be your hands that touch him. Otherwise, my friends and I will fuck him six ways to Sunday. We may be the oldest ones here, but we know how to wear a man down. He may not be...inviting, but we'll make him feel good whether he likes it or not. Better than you ever could, I'd wager. But after that..." His hand was at my jaw, turning my head to the right, where the bodyguards sat. Both of them were reclined on the couch, watching Ben get molested with hungry eyes. The bald one was rubbing the bulge in his black pants and licking Ben's sweat off his lips. The bearded one with the gun was stroking its barrel absently, probably imagining fucking Ben with it. I knew these men. I had seen what they'd done to Mr. Pendrick's enemies. These were not good people, not at all. They probably wouldn't just hurt Ben, no...they'd do their best to destroy him.

"What, you'll hand him over to your dogs?" I spat. "You'd really do that?"

"Don't doubt it for a second. They won't be nice, Jonathan...and they won't use condoms. You'll never be able to fuck your boy raw again." His voice was concrete, and I believed him.

I shook his hand off my face and stepped forward. "Fine. You win, you fucking bastard. Do what you want." Did my voice just crack? Was that even my voice? Was this really happening?

"Gentlemen," Mr. Pendrick bellowed. "I believe our Jonathan has made his decision." The three older men paused and looked our way. Ben was upright on the table, still on his knees, and he had his hands over his stomach. His cock was almost completely hard, though I couldn't know if it was because his body was merely reacting to the titillating fingers of the old men, or if Ben was truly turned on by the experience beneath all his humiliation. His eyes were wet and red, body shaking. He looked back at me with a raw, silent pleading that both broke my heart and made me harder. I could only shake my head and frown. I stepped toward him, unbuckling my belt, and his face and his shoulders drooped with the realization that there was no getting out of this.

I felt Mr. Pendrick's hand on mine again, stopping me from pulling my belt from my jeans. "No...you don't get to do that," he breathed in my ear. "Same show, different actors. I'm being nice, but not that nice." He held my hip still with one hand and ripped the belt out of my jeans with the other. He raised it high and brought it down hard on Ben's bare ass with a loud smack, making him jerk and squeal in pain. "Just so everyone is clear," he boomed. "This one here on the table is now off limits, yes? Only Jonathan here can touch him now, understood? This is Jonathan's bitch. No touching unless he says it's okay."

The older men "awwed" with genuine disappointment, and the bodyguards' brows hardened as they looked between Ben and I. "Well what are we supposed to do then?" one of the old men asked. "We had a nice piece all ready to go not twenty minutes ago, and we get this tease instead?"

I stiffened as Mr. Pendrick's hand appeared at the button of my jeans, opened them, slid them halfway down my hips. He lifted my shirt and ran his hand over my flat stomach and the slight mounds of my clenching abs. The old men cooed with delight at the sight of it, and I could feel my face turning red with rage. His other hand closed over my semi-hard cock and balls through the sweaty cloth of my boxers, squeezed until I grunted. "Jonathan here, on the other hand, is my bitch," he declared. "He's been off on his own for a while, but I think that's only given him time to...ripen." He tapped my arms and I raised them reflexively, as if I were still twenty years old, as if I were still under his thumb. I guess I was. There was no escaping it, not now. Permission had been given.

Pendrick stripped my shirt from me and tossed it aside. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head to the side, licked the sweat from my neck. I shivered, but I kept my face placid, eyes forward. I knew everyone was watching it all in the mirrors, even Ben, but I couldn't think about that now. I could only try and hang onto as much dignity as I could. "Jonathan...tell your bitch to get on his hand and knees again."

I looked at Ben. His face was low, lost in the violet shadows, about to break. "Ben...on your hands and knees, please." He let out something that might have been a sob and turned away from me, did as he was told. His ass was facing me now, not two feet away, broad cheeks spread.

"Good..." Pendrick whispered. Then, louder: "Now bend over and eat your bitch's pussy. I want to see if you're a real man yet."

I could only do as I was told. The situation was bad - really bad. Ben couldn't know how deep in shit we were. If I didn't satisfy Pendrick completely, he could easily make us both disappear. I might get away with my life even then - Pendrick still had a soft spot for me, obviously. But Ben...I knew that Ben was in the most danger. Ben was just a thing to these monstrous men. A thing to be used up and discarded in a gutter somewhere, if they desired. So I bent low and pulled his ass open with my hands, shoved my mouth onto his cold, twitching hole, and began to eat it. Ben shivered, but stayed quiet. There was only the wet sound of my tongue pushing into his ass, and the thrum of the bass across the walls.

This position, unfortunately, put my ass up and out, perked below Pendrick's waist. My jeans had slipped down around my knees, hobbling my movement, and the only thing between my bare ass and Pendrick's hips were my thin black boxers.

"Gentlemen," Pendrick announced. The old men were shifting position, gathering at Pendrick's sides. He had one hand on the small of my back, had my boxers pinched between two fingers of the other. "Let me introduce you to Jonathan's ass. I used to plow this thing twice a day, back when our Jonathan was just a pretty young errand boy with a debt." He pulled my boxers down, exposing my slightly hairy crack to the cold air. I couldn't see anything with Ben's ass in my face, but I knew I was lean, toned, and pale. I knew that my ass was trim and cut, but just meaty and wide enough to be inviting. At the very least I knew I looked good, and for some insane reason the thought was a helpful one. It was something to hold onto, a role to play. It was my younger self, buried all these years, reanimated with a single word of consent. I embraced it because I knew it was the only way I would get through this experience without dying of shame.

Pendrick made a fist with my boxers in it, then yanked back violently. There was a tearing sound as he ripped them off of my hips, and I was nearly pulled off of Ben's rump. They caught my balls for an instant before the fabric snapped, creating a painful ache. I heard a gasp of approval from one of the old men, then: "May I?" I could feel more than one set of rough fingers roaming over my exposed ass, thumbing the hole. I tried not to pucker, but it happened anyway. Pendrick's hand left my back and reached beneath my bent hips, pushed my hard cock down to be viewed between the backs of my thighs. I couldn't help it - the whole situation was taking me right back to my years as an errand boy by day, Pendrick's sex slave by night. A hand left my ass crack and fingered the slick head of my cock, and I gasped into Ben's wet hole. Someone laughed.

"All right, all right," Pendrick muttered, batting the other hands away from me. "Your bitch hasn't even grunted yet, Jonathan. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

I spit into Ben's ass, then pushed two fingers into it without warning him. His spine stiffened, and he shrieked. The others - even the bodyguards - laughed at this. Ben tried to move, but I had my other arm wrapped around his waist in a death grip, holding him still while I probed him. I had to keep the show interesting.

Pendrick pulled my fingers from Ben and pushed my head back into his ass. I began to eat it again, not knowing what else to do. "Why, that's cheating, Jonathan!" Pendrick exclaimed. "Here - let me remind you how it's done." I felt Pendrick's strong hands close around both of my ass cheeks, spreading them wide - and then his tongue was there, enveloping my hard taint, pushing into the sensitive creases between my groin and my inner thighs. Working its way upward.

I was trembling despite myself. His hot tongue widened as he lapped against my hole, covering it with steamy spit. It narrowed into a point quite suddenly and pushed into my ass. It was fast, and surprisingly strong. Before I knew it my hole had been pushed open, and he was tongue-fucking it. His trimmed beard was raking across the tender flesh of my inner cheeks as his face pounded into the valley of my ass, everything between growing hotter and wetter by the second. I grunted deeply, unintentionally, an old lust awakening in me. It had been years since anyone had eaten my ass like that, and I felt a ball of pleasurable heat pulse to life in the pit of my stomach, a specter of anticipation. Before I knew what was happening, Pendrick was fingering me. It burned, but I found myself wanting more. I felt my ass suck at his digit of its own volition, hungry for pleasures nearly forgotten.

I shook my head and turned it away from Ben's still-tight hole, caught my breath. The old men had reclined on the bench to our left, touching themselves while they watched this naked train of ass-eating writhe in front of them. I felt Pendrick's finger leave me, and then he took my hand and pressed something into it. I looked down - it was a small bottle of lube, sleek and black.

"You still clean, Jonathan? Healthy?" I only nodded. "Good. Then get yourself nice and wet, just how I like it. You remember how to do that."

"But - "

He grabbed my hair, tight. "Jonathan..."

I let myself go numb. I opened the bottle and squirted a generous amount of lube into my palm. I pulled away from Ben's rear, arched my back, and pushed it into my ass. I covered the rim of it, pushed it deep, then repeated the process until my hole was dripping with it, inside and out, just the way he liked it. I had to lean forward and brace myself against the table, clenching my hole shut to keep it from gushing down my leg. How quickly old muscles remembered.

"Good boy. Now tell your bitch to get off the table and onto that bench in front of him. I want you on it - hands and knees, front and center."

Ben did as he was told. I could see tears streaking down his face in the mirror. He wouldn't meet my eyes, and that hurt. It wasn't the old defiance, or the familiar embarrassment that he had shown me before. It was raw shame - not for him, but for me. I hated this. I wanted to hurt someone.

"Don't worry." Pendrick snorted. "You can still hold onto him, if you like. In fact, do that! It looks like he's a bit of a pacifier, anyway. Might make you feel all better." The others laughed cruelly as Ben crawled onto the bench, keeping his ass near my face as I assumed the position on the table behind him under the pink light. Pendrick pulled my jeans off me as I did, leaving me in nothing but socks. Ben crossed his arms over the top of the bench and leaned his forehead into the mirror, eyes firmly shut. I held onto his hips, used them to keep myself upright. The table creaked beneath my knees as Pendrick mounted it behind me.

There was the noise of a zipper coming undone, a rustle of cloth. The old men hooted and cheered as Pendrick grabbed my hips firmly and pushed the head of this long cock against my hole. "Go Penny!" "Fuck him Penny!" Other than the night with Ben two months ago, I hadn't been fucked for quite some time - especially not by someone like Mr. Pendrick, someone very experienced, someone who didn't truly care. I tightened reflexively, and he paused. I could feel the heat of my humiliation rushing up my chest, my face. To be so exposed, with these old bastards getting off on it, with Ben watching it happen...Ben...

Pendrick leaned over me. "Give it up, Jonathan," he hissed into my ear. "You deserve this, you know. You really should have asked me."

He reared back and forced his cock into me, punctured my sphincter with his rod. It burned mightily as he split my hole open, burned deeply and sharply, and it was still coming... I grimaced, grunted, pounded my fist into the table, then cried out impotently. "Though I can't say I'm not glad to have an excuse to teach you a lesson, boy." I shivered and moaned with pain, kept my eyes shut. I was holding onto Ben's thick hips for dear life, head pushing into the small of his back, filling my nose with the scent of his sweat as Mr. Pendrick's cock burned its way into my bowels. I pushed out, made myself as loose as I could, but it did little to help. After what seemed like hours, I felt Pendrick's gray pubes pressing against my ass, his old balls against my own. He settled inside of me, sighed with pleasure. He pushed my head into Ben's ass. "Eat it, Jonathan. Eat it." I complied mechanically, hating myself for having a raging erection, hating myself for the buried part of me that loved having this old fuck molest me even after all these years. Here I'd thought I was beyond all this, risen above this lowly station, this learned appreciation for being at the bottom of the food chain. Ben's ass trembled under my tongue, opening despite itself. I lapped at it, focusing on giving a good rimjob, anything to distract myself from the painful, burning pole inside of me.

Pendrick pulled out a little, and both of us shivered at the lewd thrill of my hole squeezing around his cock. "Hoo, it's been too long!" he cried. He smacked my ass, made it quiver around his cock. I felt every inch of it, stinging inside and out. His fingers were burrowing into my hips as he guided my ass into him, and he began to fuck me. He didn't gradually work up to a healthy pace, no - he was ramming into me, forcing himself past the ring of my tight hole again and again. It was purely painful, and I cried out, low and manly. "Fuck - fuck!"

"Shut up and keep eating!" Pendrick snarled. He had me in a death grip, pounding me mercilessly. My knees were sliding across the table with each pounding, the scraping pain nothing compared to the savage pilfering of my asshole. I couldn't even concentrate on eating Ben's ass, the one thing that gave me the most pleasure in the world. I could only yelp shrilly over and over again, whimpering into Ben's hole, hugging his hips like a drowning man.

Pendrick paused, grabbed my hair, and pulled my face from Ben's hole. I could see him in the mirror above Ben's slumped shoulders. He was looming over me, still in his suit but for the small triangle at his crotch that was currently buried in my ass. His gray hair was slightly disheveled, clear eyes burrowing into me above his beard. "You're louder than you ever were, Jonathan. Tell your bitch to turn over."

The back of Ben's head tilted to the side, listening, but he didn't look at me. I couldn't see his face. I tried to keep my voice even, forceful, and barely succeeded. "Turn over, Ben."

Pendrick's fingers tightened on my scalp. "Bitch. You call him bitch."

I swallowed. "Turn over, bitch."

Ben did as he was told, mute and vacant, looking down at me with empty disdain. He settled back on the bench awkwardly, eyes darting around at those who watched our humiliation with naked enjoyment and lust. It was all too evident that he was especially unsettled by Pendrick's bodyguards. He was looking at them sideways, cautiously, as if they were wild animals that could strike at any second. He was right to fear them, of course. Pendrick was the only thing keeping them from attacking Ben outright, and I think he knew it.

I tore my eyes from Ben's and laid them on his crotch, inches from my face. His cock was rock hard!

"Looks like your bitch is enjoying watching this!" Pendrick exclaimed with a rut, making me growl with discomfort. "I don't blame him. Now put it in your mouth. I don't want to hear another peep out of you."

I could only comply. I had to admit there was something very comforting about it, having Ben's cock in my mouth while all this other shit was going on around us. It was an island in a storm, hard and hot between my lips, a sign that there was, at least, some small part of him that was enjoying this. This brought my own cock out of its semi-limpness, made it hard enough to bob stiffly beneath my hips as Pendrick started to fuck me again. Again, there was no build-up - only a sudden plowing, as hard and sharp and painful as ever. I kept my ass loose for survival's sake, heard the wet splurching sounds as Pendrick's shaft made short work of the tenderest part of me, rending my swollen bowels with all the subtlety of a baseball bat. I could feel the old pleasure beneath the piercing misery of his cock, growing warm and blossoming despite the violence of the fucking. My shrill, wordless cries of pain - and low, growing pleasure - were muffled neatly by Ben's throbbing dick.

Pendrick heard them, of course. He grabbed my hair and pulled me from Ben's cock, which flopped to the side, hard and trailing spit. Pendrick held me there, fucking me harder than ever, pushing moans of pleasure and screams pain out of me for everyone to hear. "That's it, my boy - tell me all about it." My body was wracked with numbing pleasure, his cock head blooming inside of me, and I was moaning, gibbering, sweating with shameful lust. For a long moment, it was all there was.

Pendrick slowed suddenly, hands digging into my buttocks. I felt his cock grow slightly inside of me, and I knew it was coming. His breath got shallow, his voice got deep. "Ohhh, fuck, get ready boy..."

His cock burst inside of my burning chasm, impossible heat squirting up into my guts, engulfing my prostate in fluid warmth. I moaned around Ben's cock, almost came despite myself. He slapped both my buttocks simultaneously, stirred my overflowing ass with his pumping cock. "And that..." He pulled out, let the last lazy squirt of his climax hit the small of my back. "...is that."

There came the zipper-sound of Pendrick closing his pants up, but it wasn't over. Permission had been given. One by one his associates took their turns on me, the old men drooling and raking their rough hands over my naked hips as they mounted my rear. Three cocks of various sizes and curvatures pushed into my ravaged hole and fucked me hard, one after the other. Pendrick made them wear condoms, as I was his and not theirs, but that didn't lessen the pain, or the humiliation, one bit. One of them tried to jerk me off, but lost interest when it became apparent I wasn't going to come. Another was more interested in slapping me than fucking me - my face, thighs, stomach, ass - but he came all the same. One of them leaned over me and growled into my ear while he twisted my nipples and made me groan angrily. "You and that fine bull can use my condo any time you like, Johnny-boy - just tell me first, so I can get the cameras set up!"

Luckily, with all the excitement beforehand, none of them lasted very long. After twenty minutes of this abuse I was leaking jism, raw and completely used. All the while Ben watched. His eyes were on me, lip curled in what I hope wasn't loathing, hands resting over his stomach, his nipples, legs spread limply on either side of my face. His cock was still hard, but I'd simply been huffing and grunting into his warm pubes beneath it for some time, as if I were some body slave. I couldn't think about it. I just had to bare it. It would be over soon...

The bodyguards were getting antsy as the last of the older men pulled away. "Boss..." the bald one said, leaning forward and practically raping us with his eyes. "You don't think we couldn't...I mean, Johnny-boy there is ready for pretty much anything...and that crybaby bitch of his has gotta be so tight...we'd give you a good show!"

Pendrick took two long strides and slapped the man hard across the face. "Keep it in your pants," he said calmly, and the bald man blushed and sank back into his seat. The bearded one looked pleased.

Pendrick turned to us. I hadn't moved, hadn't been told to. I was still panting, ass gaping, skin buzzing with rage. "Would you look at that," he cooed. He reached under my ass and pulled my hard cock back, rubbed it with his thumb. It felt good. I hated him. "I'll let you hang onto that, Jonathan. A souvenir." He laughed and leaned into me, grabbed my balls and pulled painfully. "And remember, my boy. If you ever use my property without asking again...I'll use yours. And there won't be any getting out of it next time."

He made us leave the room wearing only our shoes and our pants. He kept my shirt and boxers, said they were a keepsake. Ben left his shredded t-shirt and undergarment on the floor of the private room. I think the older men were arguing over who got to smell them first. We stood out in the club that night, two muscled, shirtless men among many, but the only ones not wearing masks. For Ben, it was another mortifying experience to add to the rest, and he hung his head in shame. Me? I was still in that room, still being molested by four old men, still feeling their cocks invading my ass. Me, a professional. A grown man whose reputation had now taken an irreversible hit. Those old men, Pendrick's associates, would only think of this night whenever my name came up. Not the critical jobs I'd done, not my skills as a thief, a mole, an agent of stealth. No...they'd only think of how my ass felt around their hard cocks. This walk of shame was nothing.




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