Owned and Trained by Mr. X

[bareall77]

13 hours ago, ponyboy238 said:

Your detailed account of David's first fisting was excellent, reminds me of my first time except that I only had poppers for help.

Very hot chapter!

This story is so fascinating because, as the reader, we get to really "feel" what it's like when JT, Joey, and David go through the very intense highs of bliss and pain.

I was looking up at that mirror as David was. I was seeing and feeling what it was like to be so spun that I'm separated, yet connected to my body as David was. As the crimson/purple liquid is pumped into my veins I saw and felt it disperse to my brain, heart, lungs, and groin as David felt. That's not easy to do when writing...well anything.

Also, one doesn't really know just how far Mr. X got inside. Was he up to his armpit? Or was the magic potion clouding what David was seeing (and feeling) and really was just above Mr. X's wrist that made the first fist David took so intense? 

My fellow readers, intense is putting it mildly. 

One other thing. I find it very interesting that certain "real-life" events are sprinkled in the narrative here and there. Not only does it help place the actions and developments in time, but makes me wonder just how far down the rabbit hole this will go. Both in this highly erotic and twisted tale...and in real life. 

[asslikker]

I'm floored by you comments! I'm afraid if readers were put off by anything earlier they should probably not read on. Without giving anything away, it's about to get darker but still stay true to what happened. As JT would agree, sometimes there's justice and sometimes there ain't.

I'm amazed too, @bareall77 you predicted there were, in certain parts, events taken from real life. Some of it to me, some by me, others—for better or worse—that simply crossed my path.

[Lthrslampig]

What a great story and wish i could be the next one... haven't done Pnp for a few months but I'm back with more wild thoughts 

[bareall77]

1 hour ago, asslikker said:

Without giving anything away, it's about to get darker but still stay true to what happened. As JT would agree, sometimes there's justice and sometimes there ain't.

Uh oh...Darker!? Looks like that rabbit hole I was talking about might be pretty deep! Knowing a number things in this story actually happened...and probably STILL HAPPEN...only adds to the credibility and descriptions you bring to your characters. Keep up the good writing dude! 

[asslikker]

The Knot

There wasn't a lot of talking. Vinnie rode his palm down Jeremy's tense body. It was dark but Jeremy could see Vinnie's eyes. He was learning to trust those eyes, to know when they turned dark what to expect; when they softened, like they did just now, what might occur. But tonight he wasn't a passive actor, a captive to Vinnie's whims, he also got to call the shots. He detoured Vinnie's hand and raised it to his mouth. He licked his fingers. They were salty and rough. The palm ran across Jeremy's face. It traced his hairline, its contours, fingers ran through his long hair, one finger extended, came up and rode across his eyebrow, feeling the caterpillar breadth and length. Jeremy smiled. The finger ran down to his teeth, his perfect star-lit teeth. They almost glowed in the dark to Vinnie.

Jeremy moved in closer, so close their erections touched. He sword fought his member against Vinnie's. Both laughed and both won. Vinnie inhaled deeply and drew the young man closer to his body. Jeremy like the feeling of strength and suddenness that defined Vinnie. Vinnie's clenching jaw, the half growth of beard and how manly he looked. Jeremy was smooth, almost hairless. Still beef and brawn. He was discovering Vinnie was like him but in a minor key. They were starting to pick up on each other's music, their rhythms. Trying to smooth out their discord. Vinnie had the most beautiful hairy chest, strands of grey were coming in. He sported hair along his lats, his delts, his traps; not heavy but a trace. He even had a fine growth of hair over his glutes. Vinnie flexed his butt and Jeremy praised it, grabbing hold, appreciating the deep musculature, how rigid and tight he could control his form; hide his visage, what he was thinking behind the bones and muscles of his placid face. When Vinnie suddenly relaxed his butt, he felt invited to run a hand down between his cheeks and explore a terrain that was rarely visited.

Earlier, Vinnie had introduced him to rimming. It was a new world of sensations, a vocabulary he want to quickly learn and practice. Now was his turn and he was anxious to give the same pleasure he had taken. He snuck up on Vinnie's pit and took in a deep whiff of his odor. He stuck a tongue into the bush and suck the salt of the hairs. Vinnie's masculinity was dangerous and turned him incredibly impulsive, made him take chances, leaps he'd never take with another man. He ran his tongue down Vinnie's side, tasting the hard ripples of his ribs, the mound of his pelvis that could easily distract him, change his course to the fur that ran to it center and get caught in the snare of groin. But he was on a mission. Slowly he turned the man he had come this evening, not to get abused by but make love to, and that meant getting to know new parts of him that were alien. So he turned till Vinnie lay on his stomach. He snuck between Vinnie legs, knelt before him, laid on his own stomach to be close to the two muscular mounds of flesh. At the top of Vinnie's crack, running a tongue over his coccyx, he followed the trail to a hidden canyon. It was hairy and dark, flooded with swirling hair. He lapped at it, instinctively started parting it to explore a never-ending cascade of bush. There seemed to be no end to the depth of this valley, nowhere would the cliffs tapered off. The smell was all he had to go on. Sight was of no use to him here.

He was surprised how clean Vinnie smelled. Not soapy or full of fragrant herbs, but the rich smell of skin after it comes out of a river. Fresh of salt and brine, fresh of grass or moss, just the taste of untainted water: clear, rushing. He sensed it before he arrived, the cave. The hairs became sparser. His tongue felt skin clenching, more nervous than he. He was the one that now got to say, Relax, relax, as his tongue finally found its buried treasure. Vinnie had confessed he'd never been eaten out and Jeremy jumped at the chance, wanted Vinnie to remember him, remember who he was, not one of the many that came to be videoed and abused. Something more, something other, no matter what that other was. And he was at the walls, the well, the pit where everything hid. He licked it and Vinnie clenched hard almost throwing him out of the valley. But Jeremy persisted. He stroked Vinnie's furry cheeks, petting like they were an animal that needed calming. He lapped at Vinnie's hole a second time, this time without resistance but producing a small, low moan. Jeremy ventured a third swipe of his tongue across Vinnie's tight hole. This third attempt had Vinnie lying still, awaiting a fourth, a fifth, as much slathering as Jeremy was willing to give. Vinnie was giving up something to the boy, admitting something as a man, and Jeremy felt honored and did his duty. He gently played in the hole, spitting in it, rolling his saliva around to moisten it and turn the tight muscle into soft, giving flesh.

The boy turned curious and nudged Vinnie's legs further apart. Vinnie resisted until Jeremy licked the bottom of his balls, and buried his face deep into his taint. The boy was relentless finding every corner, every hair that swirled between his legs. Mercifully the boy found his hole again and again found his hole being worshiped. He allowed the boy's tongue to travel spelunking into his unexplored cave. The boy's tongue was long. He feared what the boy might discover in the depth of his cavern.

Vinnie reach round and drew the boy back up to his face and kissed him. This was as new to them both as was Jeremy first attempt at rimming. There was a moment of shock, then passion, as they rolled around across the leopard-spotted bed, playing at dominance and submission. Jeremy was quicker but Vinnie stronger, so they took turns lying one atop the other. Did it ever feel this free to be with someone, Vinnie thought? The hair and skin sliding over each other was wearing a fur coat naked. To Vinnie, it was rolling over a body of silk. To Jeremy, it was sliding over a muscular mountain.

It was Jeremy that broke the truce and let Vinnie remain on top. Jeremy spread his legs letting the man's erect flesh fall between his legs. "I never did this before," he whispered to Vinnie. "Will it hurt?"

Vinnie shook his head, and then looking in Jeremy's honest eyes, changed his mind. He nodded yes. "But you'll like it," Vinnie added.

He reached below the bed in a drawer and brought up some KY. He squeezed some on his finger and slipped into Jeremy. "Does that hurt?" he asked.

"It's cold," Jeremy answered. Vinnie then squeezed out more onto two fingers, and slipped them slowing in the boy.

"How about now?" Jeremy bit his lip and bore down on Vinnie's fingers.

He took Vinnie's other hand and placed them in his mouth. The boy ran his tongue over Vinnie hairy digits and examined them in the darkened room, while unseen fingers explored Jeremy's hole. "I want you to be the first to fuck me, no matter if it hurts."

Vinnie looked in the boy's alert eyes, said, "Good." He waited a moment, then asked, "Do you want to be tied up?" The boy shook his head no. "Slammed?" The boy shook his head again.

"I just want you inside me," Jeremy said quietly.

"You're not afraid of catching the bug?"

"Do you have it?" asked Jeremy. The boy watched every twitch in his face. He would know if he were being lied to.

"Yes," admitted Vinnie, quickly adding, "from needles."

"Me, too. Needles," said Jeremy. "Never seemed fair since most times people get it from each other and all. So I want you to do me. Bareback. I want to know what that feels like. By you. I wanna say,  that's who I got it from. A who, not a what."

The kid broke his heart. It was a bad sign for a person in his field. He smoothly reached into the same drawer that held the lube, and opened a zipped baggy withdrawing a soaked rag, and put it over Jeremy's alarmed face. He lay atop the kid till he no longer struggled.

He got up, threw a green tattered bathrobe on the kid, and got dressed himself. He made a brief call to say he was on his way. He looped a rope around Jeremy's hands and another securing his feet. Lastly he tied a red scarf across the kids mouth and a blindfold kerchief knotting it tightly behind his head. He lugged him downstairs over his shoulder like a duffle bag to a place in the alley where he kept his van. His headlights cut through the fog as they drove across the bay.

***

We had a fairly heavy wind storm come through last night. The wind turbine that keeps me off the grid is damaged so I won't be able to write a lot today. If I don't fix it no one else will. The storm also laid down a bad combination of snow and ice so it'll be tricky to get into town. The jeep always handles it though.

To disabuse you of the notion I'm in Vermont like what what's on my profile (and I'm speaking mainly to the Russian hackers that by now have spotted this chronicle), I could be a Vermonter, but I could easily be in Ashland, Oregon, or New Hampshire in the White Mountains—probably not in a big city. Got over that in my time in San Francisco. Suffice it to say, moi rossiyskiye druz'ya, to my Russian friends, it's easy enough, as you well know, to buy into a cheap server farm and have your IP address scattered like leaves in the wind. Last I checked I was sending this out from a server in Rhode Island, I nice place I've visited once. Some pretty expansive mansions, once home to some very unsavory characters. By the time I've finished this part and send it out through our public library or my home or McDonald's, the next port will be from Pakistan, a place I have no desire to visit. I'm sure, though, it has it's  a very nice place.

It's easier to manage things in a small setting. Ninety-five of us live up here. We know each other, who should be here, who shouldn't. It's an isolated place, and we do carry shotguns. I thought I'd be surrounded by ski bunnies and day traders. Instead I'm surrounded by hunters and snowmobiles. Men with long black beards and missing teeth. Deliverance with a New England accent (or Oregonian). Without putting out too much of a breadcrumb, I thought ahead and bought this place in the mountains a while back, twenty-two acres in all, if I needed an escape hatch. And I did need an escape hatch. The forest provides all the wood I need to keep warm. The well never empties, not even in last summer's drought. I'm happy and content, still in contact with a few people I trust. I'm even close enough to a New England theatre festival, or maybe that's an Ashland theatre festival, to where I can volunteer occasionally to take tickets and watch a show. Maybe if you came through here recently I took your ticket.

The main reason I'm backpedaling, I'm sure you've noticed, is I don't really want to get into this next part. JT's my friends and this isn't a good moment for him. Maybe I want to breathe for a second or let you breathe. It amounts to the same thing. Second, I know I have to go into town and get a couple of parts for the turbine. It's cold out there, and I'm happy to stay near the wood stove with the cats. But in these parts if you give weather even an inch it'll beat your ass. The same could be said of the crowd my friends and I met in 1996. It was a bad year all around (I'm talking to you, Monica!), but resolved, mostly, with a good outcome. Mostly.

Although I now have to keep a low profile, there were many years of duplicity and enjoyment, which I wouldn't give up. I'm afraid Joey and JT would disagree, but you can't make omelets, dot dot dot. Am I right or am I right? Here's to the broken shells.

***

Vinnie chose the master bedroom with its four-poster bed to set up shop. He'd gotten keys by messenger on Thursday and parked inside the garage across from the house Friday night. Tiburon is a wealthy neighborhood across bay from San Francisco. Very exclusive. Belvedere is the wealthier side of Tiburon. Tiburon is the other side of the railroad tracks in this neck of the woods.

At water's edge the land rises quickly. The road through Belvedere divided the garage from the house. The house was built on the water and had a gangway that connected the road to the house. Vinnie was the first to arrive. He checked for any cars and after knocking the kid out once more to be on the safe side, carried him across the gangway into the house.

There was a large photo when you got inside. Dr. Crenshaw, an upscale pediatrician and former owner, and his family in matching purple ski jumpers, accosted you. The two girls and Dr. and Mrs. leaning on their skis at jaunty thirty degree angles, and the good looking blond, tan son smack in the center on his snowboard. Guess who was the favorite in this family? thought Vinnie.

With his sack of potatoes, Jeremy, on his shoulder he judged each bedroom. The master bedroom made the most sense. He plopped Jeremy on his side on the four-poster and went back to the van to get his lights and cameras. Once back in the entrance way carrying his equipment, he scanned the living room. The furniture was still here, product of a quick sale and quicker divorce. No personal items were present save for the smiling faces in the dissolved family. Vinnie guessed neither Dr. or Mrs. wanted the reminder.

Jeremy lay in a jumble of ropes, green bathrobe and naked parts. The robe was open and Vinnnie quickly shut off that part of his brain that wasn't specific to getting the job done. He closed the robe and started untying the kid. He left on the gag and blindfold. He put all the pillows in the center of the bed and rolled Jeremy over them. The kid's ass was raised and each arm and leg positioned toward one of the four posts. He could have used the ropes but analytics on his sites indicated a ten percent increase of downloads and fifteen percent increase in sales if leather cuffs were used instead of rope. People and their fetishes.

He'd secured the kid to the bed and was setting up the lights when Dana Shaftow brought in the dog, collared and obedient. He told the dog to sit. Vinnie shut down his brain as hard as he could examining the dog. "What is he?" Vinnie asked.

"Half Great Dane, half English Mastiff. My client specifically bred him for dick size. Didn't you get the basics from X?"

"Some things I don't need to know. My job is to get the talent and shoot the show. How long is this going to take?" Vinnie took out a stick of gum, offered a piece to Shaftow.

Shaftow took the extended offering. "I thought you did the other boy's show. You're a boy agent, aren't you?"

"Nope, this is the first one." There was jockeying going on and Vinnie wasn't interested in playing. He could twist this little nerd's neck in two seconds, but how would that set him up for other gigs? "So how long?"

"Depends on the boy's hole. Once he takes the knot their going to be tied for at least twenty minutes. The cums starts from the point puppy gets hard, but until their tied, that's when the action starts. I don't stay for that. The whole thing disgusts me, if you want to know the truth, but I don't make judgments. A gigs a gig, right?"

"Right." Vinnie looked at Jeremy ass in the air. He clamped down his brain, hard, thought of the chambers in Nicaragua, thought of the revenue from the one night, but nothing was distracting him from the present. He looked at Shaftow. He hated him, a skinny weasel in a three-piece suit. Limo driver-type at best. He'd like to string him up sometime. "So once they're, what, tied? It's twenty minutes?"

"Minimum. If the kid struggling it's stimulates the pupster more. Could last up to an hour then. Depends. Once he's nutted that's when the real waterworks start going on inside. He'll think the bitch under him is liking it squeezing on his knot. With girls it's easier. A pussy will give cause it's made for a baby's head and arms and shit, but from what happened to the other boy, from what I saw on the tape, to me, personally? It was painful to watch. I couldn't finish it. And that kid was hardly a virgin. God help the kid who's never even taken dick. Doggie's gonna think the bitch is lovin' it big time." Vinnie was trying to keep his face neutral. Shaftow read his face instantly. "Tell me the kid ain't a virgin!" Vinnie gave the slightest of nods. "Woo-ee! Might have to stay for this one."

"Suit yourself." Vinnie adjusted the lights, taking an occasional glance through the three viewfinders. Shaftow walked up to Jeremy's ass, wet a finger and stuck him. "Hey, hands off the merchandise," Vinnie growled.

Shaftow raised his hands in deference. "That tight ass bitch best not injure the canine. He's talent too. Got a higher price then that bitch ever will. Just sayin' is all."

"Well, you don't get to touch him."

Once again, Shaftow raised his arms higher, purposefully a little higher, letting his coat jacket fall open revealing his Glock. "So we good?"

Vinnie calculated the room size, how many step it would take to get to him and block his reach for the gun. Wondered if the dog would pounce. That was the X factor. He didn't like dogs and he sure as hell didn't want to mess with this one. "Yeah. Peachy. So how do you get this party started?"

"You do. I just deliver. Here," Shaftow said, throwing Vinnie a tube of grease. "Use this on his ass since you don't want me to touch. I'd lube him good if I was you, he's gonna need it. The dog'll get to nine inches, and the knot? Make a fist." Vinnie did. "Yeah, a little bigger than that."

"Shit," Vinnie said under his breath.

"Don't worry, it don't happen all at once. But once their tied, do not, in any way, get between them. He'll rip your throat out. You have memory cards for an hour." Vinnie nodded and noted that Jeremy was coming to. "You're probably gonna need it. Mind if I hang back and doing a little whacking. Never seen the beast take on a virgin. Should be good fun."

He gave Shaftow the gypsy eye he'd once seen his grandmother give as a curse. He was going to kill this shit. "Just do it in the shadow of the bathroom. Don't want you in the shot." Vinnie closed the distance between one of the camera's and Jeremy ass. He now had his wide shot, medium and close up all set. It was coverage, details of lighting.

Within the shadows, Shaftow called out, "Let the dog sniff the tube. It's laced with bitch in heat. He'll know what to do. Probably same as you would." He laughed coldly.

Vinnie gave a second gypsy eye. One more, and fuck this scene. Shaftow was done. He paused contemplating, then walked over to the dog, opened the tube and let the huge mongrel sniff it. He dog growled and barked. From the shadows Shaftow called, "Stay!" The dog spun in a circle and sat. Vinnie saw that a pink dot was coming out of the furry sheath.

He walked up to Jeremy's ass and liberally lubricated it, pushing as much lube inside Jeremy arched ass as he could. He then went around and turned on all the cameras.

"Go get it!" encouraged Shaftow.

***

A strange voice called out an order in the dark. He tried to make sense of things as they were happening so fast and he was still several seconds behind himself. He felt his ass in the air, his crotch lying on some soft pillows. He was naked. Tied. He tested one arm and sensed he was completely immobile. He tried his other limbs. The same. "Vinnie!" he yelled through the scarf in his mouth. "Vinnie!" He shook his head, scraping them on the sheets, seeing if he could get the thing off his eyes. He managed to get a sliver of a view of the massive wooden bed he was tied to.

He felt a tongue lapping at his ass. "Vinnie?" he pleaded know full well what Vinnie rimming him felt like, and that was not Vinnie. He screamed, "Vinnie! Help, Vinnie!"

He felt sharp claws and fur scaling over his back. Something hard penetrated his ass. It was so foreign he had no reference for what it could be, but he felt it continuing to penetrate him, inch after inch, and an incessant humping. It lubricated him as it traveled into him. Not only was it digging in deeper by the minute, there was also something expanding right between his prostate and the inner sphincter. Clutching his asshole, trying to push it out, seemed to inflate it more. But the foreign object, whatever it was, was swelling massively inside him. He flailed his ass around trying to get the invader out of him.

He couldn't deny it any longer. It was a dog. He was being fucked by a dog like in one of those dirty videos he saw. He screamed, "Get it off me. Get off!" but no one was answering. Was he alone? Either answer was equally frightening. It sounded like someone was saying to themselves softly, yeah, fuck the bitch, yeah.  "Vinnie, please, help me." At the bottom of his vision, just in the corner he saw Vinnie, his face contorted. Vinnie saw he was discovered and slithered out of Jeremy's line of site. "Oh, God, help!" he said in tears. "I know you're there." He looked the other way and saw in the bathroom a dark figure jacking his dick. "No," he yelped. "No, no, no, no, this isn't happening. Y'all can't do this. Stop!" He protested, moving his butt around trying to throw off the animal, but there was something now locking and sealing the animal internally to him. He felt his cavity swell and fluid continue leaking upward in his colon. He'd never been penetrated like this. A finger, yes, but not even a dick. But a thin rod elongating inwardly, filling him, lubing him, and a ball that started the size of a walnut was getting to the size of a fist—this was outside his darkest imagination. The fist pulled and pushed at him. Tried to get into his second chamber. It couldn't, he wouldn't let it. The more he fought it the large it grew.

He fought an endless battle. Minutes passed and the beast continued its unrelenting humping trying to get in further. He felt the fist tearing back and forth from the second ring to the inside of his sphincter. It stimulated him in ways he'd never dreamed of, didn't want to think about. He wouldn't give into the sensation as pleasurable. He fought it for a good fifteen relentless minutes. It didn't feel good, he told himself. It was wrong. "Vinnie, this ain't right!" He knew the words were unintelligible and ill formed through the gag, but these were pleas from his heart to the one person who wouldn't betray him. He cried into the pillow, "Please, stop, please." His cries were growing weaker. He was feeling this is what Vinnie wanted, and if this is what Vinnie wanted him to be—maybe he should—

"No!" he said defiantly, his head shaking in rage, his eyes bulging beneath the kerchief. "No!" He started shaking his bindings. Pulling on his leg shackles, flexing his butt muscles, causing the dog to squeal, then growl, then start humping harder. It was almost through his second ring.

"Bitch better not be hurt the dog," an unfamiliar voice said from the bathroom.

"Jeremy, just let the dog finish," Vinnie whispered. "Then it will be over."

Jeremy felt his bowels flood with dog semen, and the dog seemed to be slowing down.

"What'd I tell you?" whispered the unfamiliar voice. "You can overlay another track over this, can't you?" The stranger then talked conversationally to Vinnie. "Well, twenty minutes. Like clockworks. Tell your bitch to take it like a bitch and he can go. Looks like puppy's got another thirty, forty minutes still in him. He sure is loving junior. Maybe junior would like a little reach around, get into it more. He sure has a nice big—"

Jeremy heard a struggle, two bodies colliding and falling on the carpet, and then a discharge from a silencer. Then a second, and the dogged shrieked and fell to its side, still obscenely connected in his butt. He desperately yanked at his right cuff with all his might. He pulled on it and either he was going to snap the bed point, break the chain or pulling his arm out of its socket. He was not lying there any longer. The leather cuff snapped at the buckle. His free arm swung around and he pushed the dog's chest. Something like baseball shit out of his ass along with a sludge of cum. He saw Vinnie plugging a third, fourth, fifth discharge from the muzzled pistol into the man on the carpet. The man flopped with each shot except the last. He pointed the gun at Jeremy. Jeremy hugged the bed and the sixth bullet hit the dog in the head just as it was about to pounce, exploding a smattering of blood over Jeremy and the crisp white sheets.

He undid his other arm, shaking in fright. Vinnie was at his legs unbinding him. Vinnie was about to approach but he took his legs and with all the force in him kicked Vinnie in the face. He sprang up and stomped on Vinnie's chest, kicked his head, kicked it again. Bent over his face and shit all the dog semen he could push out over him, yelling, "You mother fucker! You piece of shit!" He took a light stand and used it like a bat clobbering him everywhere Vinnie couldn't protect. Vinnie reached up an arm to shield himself. Jeremy grabbed a camera by its tripod and again beat Vinnie with it. "You fuckin' piece of shit. Open your fuckin' mouth or swear to fuckin' Christ I'll ram this leg down your throat." He meant it too. He stood, legs splayed, over his face. Vinnie opened his mouth and Jeremy let loose another torrent of canine sperm. "Swallow it, fucker. Let me see you swallow the goddamn dog sperm you fuckin' perverted fucker!"

He did. Then he turned his head to the side and spewed it back up. His face had bruises, a large cut about a brow. Blood on his teeth. Jeremy threw the tripod against the dresser mirror. His reflected naked flesh broke apart in pieces, right along with his heart.

He fell into the bed. Shoved the carcass of the canine to the floor and heaved in sobbing tears, convulsing on the bed.

"Come on," Vinnie said, getting up, shards of mirror falling off him. His right eye was swelling and he held his side. "We have to get out of here." He still had the gun in his hand. "Put on his clothes," he nodded at Shaftow. "Careful of the glass," he said, laying the gun on the dresser.

Jeremy's face wet with tears, the mask of the forlorn and eternally lost, he took the dead man's shoes and pants and put them on. He left the rest. The shoes were small. They pinched without socks. He snatched the gun off the dresser and pointed it at Vinnie. "I aught t'kill you. Right here, right now." He said it calmly, evenly, intensely.

Vinnie raised his hands, not looking at the kid in the eyes. "Your right, your right. I'm a fuck, I fucked you up ten ways to Sunday. Go ahead. I deserve it." He meant it, too. Jeremy saw he meant it. Vinnie tried but could not look at him.

Jeremy reflected for a long while, glanced at the dead man and back at Vinnie. He began coughing, then hacking till he almost threw up. He tried to calm his breathing. "Why?" he said, lowering the gun, putting his hands on his knees to remain standing.

Vinnie paused for long time. Probably the longest he'd ever sustained a thought. Searching. Weighing. Nothing moved. There were no fog horns or waves slapping the pylons, only silence waiting for something to break. A red stain slowly spread under the dead man. Vinnie attempted forming inconsequential words. Gave up. Finally, he exhaled. "I got nothing, cowboy," he said, "I'm a black hole."

JT looked up. He'd never seen Vinnie like this. Vinnie unguarded, had no comeback, was all shattered glass behind his eyes. Vinnie snatched up the green bathrobe off the floor, shook off glass and draped it over Jeremy's shoulders. He grabbed the three cameras and left the rest. Glass crunched as they left the carnage.

 

[Guest Gigicxuogphof]

Fuck this has to be the horniest story here by far. Keep it cumming. 

[bareall77]

Holy fuck. 

You weren't kidding or exaggerating when you said this was going to take a dark turn. 

And down the rabbit hole we go. My first thought was fear that Jeremy was going to meet a worse fate then he did this night. Then I was fascinated at the contrast between the first and second parts. Vinnie and Jeremy in a truly erotic situation...to the horror in the "shoot." 

Knowing that there are more unsavory characters involved here, I wonder what the aftermath of this will be. One development has to be that Vinnie maybe has somewhat of a heart. This was no longer business. A human being was involved. Not merchandise or "the bitch" but a young man who apparently woke up the human side of Vinnie. If only for a moment. 

Good chapter however strange the events took us along with the characters. 

Finally, the "interlude," which probably stole the show so to speak. Ironically, seeing as how many of us can be who we want to be on the Internet, I'm not sure what to believe. 

Except that this story and it's characters are so well written in their detail and plot. So I'm inclined to believe that at least some of what you wrote is true. Even if only part of your true tale is real, what an incredible story.

***I never write this much commentary on a story. Ever. Yet what you have here is so compelling that I have to. The story is well-deserving. Though it's what's behind this "fictional piece" that cement it as a work of art, however mind bending it may be. 

 

[TTFN]

It certainly did turn to the dark side, Shaftow deserved his fate but the poor mut was just doing what he had been trained to do.

I can see a love affair blooming.

[bareall77]

4 hours ago, ponyboy238 said:

It certainly did turn to the dark side, Shaftow deserved his fate but the poor mut was just doing what he had been trained to do.

I can see a love affair blooming.

If Vinnie hadn't done that, the mut could have done major damage to Jeremy. Also, the dog seemed to only listen to Shaftow. So who knows what it would have done. It was one of those things that Vinnie knew he had to do to save Jeremy and himself. 

[asslikker]

The Growl

In Vinnie’s loft were JT’s clothes. He wanted them back. He wanted Vinnie to drive him there to fetch them.

They didn’t talk on the ride back to the city. It was very late and the fog hadn't lifted. Out here on the bridge they heard the deep bass of the fog horn. Fluttering lights off the bridge flashed by in syncopation. Shadows like bars rolled over Jeremy's face. He looked out into the grayness. He didn’t want to go home and be alone, but he didn’t particularly want to stay at Vinnie’s. He shivered once, which Vinnie caught.

As they came off the bridge, Vinnie asked how he was.

He thought about it, didn't know. He thought for a moment longer. "Changed."

"Listen—" Vinnie started.

"No!" he said emphatically. Raised his hand without looking. "Can't listen to—." Broke off not being able to speak, continued staring in the middle distance, seeing no street signs passing, no houses, no cars, nothing but a mist of gray. Vinnie turned up the van heater. Jeremy felt warm pin-pricks stir along his zipper. He felt around the crotch. Three holes, still damp. He looked at his fingers. Small shreds of fabric stuck to red blood. Bullet holes, three, where Vinnie had unloaded after the first shot to the head.

The rest of the ride was more colorless streets, lights of oncoming cars, reds of taillight, turning corners in the maze that was the city.

They rode the elevator staring straight ahead. Vinnie unlocked and pulled open the noisy gate. He switched on the overhead lights. It was an ugly room, thought Jeremy, full of ugly thoughts and ugly actions. It was familiar. It had followed him from Tennessee. It followed him wherever he went. He always remembered it. Only now it manifested itself when he looked at Vinnie.

"There's a hose in the shower, if you—" They couldn't find the end of sentences with each other. He went to the stall in the corner of the room. Toed off the heal of the right shoe. Held on to a pipe to pry off the other. Dropped trousers over the shoes. He put the green robe on the radiator. He spied in the reflection of the dark glass scratches on his shoulder. He twisted and looked at the other. Claw marks there too. He opened the rust-stained shower curtain. Dried orange trails were on the walls and made spider patterns to the center of the drain. Vinnie was right, there was a hose. A green garden hose with the end cut off. He remembered a hose like that he drank from at his house back home. The water was so even, smooth, cold, perfectly shaped. Why did the shape make it so good? It was the best water he'd ever had, wasn't it? He wished all water from then on could slake his thirst like that. Life was the left-on hose soaking in the weeds, going downhill from there.

He turned on both valves. It was cold. He bent down and miraculously the water poured in the same smooth way it did in his memory. It was a memory only for him. He drank and drank the smooth water till the water ran warm. He saw Vinnie looking at him. He closed the curtain and blocked him out. He stuck the hose up his butt, held it for a moment and let it flush out. Clear. Some flex of white, some brown. He tried not to think about it. He flushed out several more times until it ran null of substance. He flipped the switch on the shower head and warm water unevenly spouted at him. There was soap in a dish. The screws were rusty. The soap wafer thin. It would do.

His back stung when the water hit it. He liked that it stung. Felt it purge something ugly, something foul. He turned off the cold and stood like a statue as it built to a scald and set his back ablaze. Steam rose around him till he couldn't see the walls, only felt he body burning alive.

Vinnie rushed over and turned off the water, scorching his arm where the water struck. He pulled Jeremy out, grabbed towels next to the stall. First one went over Jeremy's head, another over his shoulder, a third wiped his chest. Jeremy dripped in a puddle all over the floor. Vinnie knelt to wipe his feet, soaking up some of the puddle. He picked up the warm bathrobe and gave it to Jeremy.

Jeremy looked at the robe strangely. An object that was familiar but meant something other than what it was. P-A-I-N means bread in French. Why did that pop into his mind. He couldn't remember what he was holding, where it was from, where he saw it before. He declined to remember. In French, P-A-I-N was bread. The only thing from the three months from the required French class his junior year, December, before he was put in to rehab for six month, The first time.. Put it on, he told himself, and walked over to the couch in this strange room without walls. TV, couch, monitors, kitchen table, bed, handcuffs on chains hanging on a black brick wall, the screws in the walls that wouldn't pull out no matter how hard you struggled. He laid down sideways. Why didn't the room look sideways if he was? He grabbed a cushion and in a few minutes fell asleep.

He woke in the middle of the night frightened, didn't know where he was. He looked around the room of blue static-filled light. Images on the monitors of men fisted, men being whipped, men in cuffs getting fucked. Not everything came back at once, but enough.

Vinnie was in the leopard bed, facing away, snoring lightly. Jeremy had a blanket over him that wasn't there before. The Lion King, the plush blanket read. Gold silk fringe. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. Not a memory but a sensation before he knew words. It felt good, comforting. He wanted desperate to feel good but forgot how you did that. A picture of the cub and the words, Hakuna Matata. From the swahili, hakuna (there is not here) and matata (plural form of problem). Tarzan wasn't in the movie, was he? No, that was another time in another Africa. It was singing animals. Some of the animals screamed, though. He pounded his head several times to stop it from thinking. He carried the No Worries blanket on his back. A cape that hid and protected him. The tattered robe underneath. The floor was warm. Swept. Vinnie was facing away toward the black windows, snoring lightly. Next to the bed he dropped the cape, dropped the robe, saw himself naked in the black windows, an unchanged reflection of highlights of blues and darker blues. He crawled into bed and spooned Vinnie.

Vinnie flinched to the touch, then recognizing who it was and instantly calmed. He remained like that, awake, for a very long time. Minutes? An hour? Time: there is no etiquette. Jeremy's skin was cold, his breath warm on his neck. Jeremy had his hands clutched like he was praying in front of his face. He felt the clutched hands behind his head. He reached over and put his palm over Jeremy's hands. He felt he held him, one palm warming cold fists. Jeremy didn't move—minutes, hours—but something did move. Vinnie felt something rare and warm and excited rising at his back, hardening against his tailbone. Jeremy's upper body didn't move, but Vinnie felt his lower body, in the slowest of motions, geologically slow, grass-growing slow, a snail rising out of its shell, tilt then prod his hole. There weren't any words, not even thoughts in the time that passed. Only honest flesh. What flesh was trying to tell for the very last time. He reach under the bed and took out the KY he  had used before. For the very first time he lubed his hole. Then he swathed Jeremy's over-sized weapon. Jeremy let out not a sound but an ecstatic guttural breath. Not a word but direct expression of sensation. A growl, not canine but ancient, neolithic. Vinnie never had been taken captive by a sound like this, willingly, wantingly. He wrapped Jeremy's mammoth erection in his fist and guided him in. It hurt as he mounted it. His entire life he'd only topped, not played with his hole, never tempted. But he wanted to keep Jeremy, his boy, JT, Tarzan, midnight cowboy, he wanted him, whatever he could find to keep him his. He opened himself up to a second inch. The first was devastating in its girth. He paused till he got used to it. The second, when it went in, was just as painful. He couldn't keep from squeezing it out, but by squeezing it he also greased the head again and made it more rigid, easier to push back in, which created a gasp from them both. Jeremy's tool was big enough for two hands, with three really, so Vinnie easily grabbed him at the base, with eight inches to spare. Feeling the boy's sparse light bush he kept impaling himself deeper till he accepted half of it. He didn't know how he'd take anymore.

But Jeremy, asleep and awake, growling softly with every inch, feeling what Vinnie was doing but not cognizant of Vinnie's ultimate intentions, or confident in his determination to pursue Vinnie's parole, still instinctively felt a need to push his cock along where it was already going. He rocked a bit to get further inside, where it was warm, where he was in control. He felt Vinnie resist, so he eased up. And each time he felt Vinnie accept he took quick advantage to gain more ground.

Vinnie internally sensed the stakes, felt the challenge. Relinquishing was the goal, and, man, wasn't it the most human thing he did in his life. Pain? He endured torture aplenty. Giving ground was giving up, but this relinquishing was as emotional difficult as it was physical. In fact, it was dawning, something he never knew because he never experienced, the combination of emotions and the basic physicality of it gave way to pleasure. One plus two is five. He started wanting Jeremy to hurt him, stretch him, make him feel something in his gut. He wanted it deep in every way. That something was real, was another person touching him, entering him. He kept taking, finally not resisting as the twelfth inch reached it mark. He pulled and pushed against it, wanted to continue feeling it. It could have been five inches or twelve: he had no reverence for this. A man was inside him. Someone he cared about, risked everything for. He felt the boy's smooth long body bang against his cheeks. There was something complete in this. This, the first time.

Jeremy rubbed Vinnie's furry cheeks. Cherished them, fondled them, put his hand between Vinnie's legs. He raise a leg so he could get deeper inside Vinnie. He wanted all of Vinnie, nothing left on the table. He dipped and scooped till Vinnie really felt him inside, giving out a growl and moan. Sounds of hurt and pleasure. Prehistoric sounds. Sounds that kept other animals away in the jungle dark. Jeremy wanted him to know it was he, Jeremy, fucking him. He was in him. Inside him. Now would always be. Not soft and smooth—Jeremy was hard and awake. Not a dream, but real and wanting something out of him that he knew would be the last thing Vinnie would give up. He pushed Vinnie on his stomach and then pulled his pelvis up till he was on all fours. He rocked slowly at first, instinctively aware of Vinnie's vulnerable virginity. He looked in the reflective windows and liked what he saw. A beast with many legs and two torsos, a Centaur rearing and majestic. He slowly began to fuck waiting for Vinnie to catch up. If he didn't catch up to his pace soon he would make him, whip him till he caught up. And he did grow impatient. He squeezed his ass and felt his cock get harder and he smacked Vinnie's ass and it made him harder still. Vinnie bucked rebelliously, bucked back against him as a steed in defiance. Vinnie shook his head, ceding and rebelling to his rider at the same time, keeping Jeremy in check yet encouraging him to not quit pushing him. The roll of saddled and saddling was new to them both; there were no rules except what felt natural and good. Jeremy smacked Vinnie's ass again and Vinnie slammed back onto Jeremy's magnificent member. He felt the crown growing in size since it first went it, and the length taking over his entire entrails. It was growing like a second spine, taking over. He felt half his body being pulled out through his ass and then violently pushed back in. It felt so good he bucked and Jeremy plundered his captive, he grabbed Vinnie's muscular shoulders, feeling him under him, rapidly coming to a climax that he wanted more than anything. Sweat dripped off his forehead, ran down his chest into Vinnie crack, mixing with the lube and juice and now, thankfully, cum. Jeremy grabbed Vinnie's hips tight against him, filled him with all the rage and potency and desire that was in him. He pulled him tight against him again in lust and gratitude. He slammed against him with all his force in hatred and fear and repudiation and, finally, at the very last moment, love.

He spewed in Vinnie as smooth as the stream from a garden hose. Running over into the brier patch, through dogwood grove, down the hill to the meadow where the Hemlock grew. Home.

***

Vinnie was hard as a rock.

Jeremy, breathless, rubbed Vinnie's slippery back. He laid over him and loved how they slipped like seals over each other. That slather elicited the remaining spurts of cum that remained deep in his bowels. He pumped his ass, squeezed his balls, pumped whatever was left in his sack, emptying into Vinnie so far inside, his seed would always remain there. He could've stayed like this if their legs permitted the rest of the night. But Vinnie had other thoughts.

Vinnie pushed back, impaling himself on Jeremy. He sat on his haunches looking in back of him, and found Jeremy's face. He reach a hand around pulled him to his lips. Jeremy's went into the kiss open mouthed, and now, with a partially healed heart, he reached around to graze across Vinnie's chest, the midnight hair, the billowing abdomen, the black wilderness around his cock, the full throbbing member that greeted his hand. The member he could barely get his fist around.

"Yeah, about that," Vinnie grinned, pulling himself off Jeremy with quite a bit of resistance on his and Jeremy's part, emptying Jeremy out with a regret of separation he soon hoped to replace and remedy ten fold.

"Lie back, Jeremiah Tiberius. Time you rode in my saddle." He looked at him dead serious. "But only if you say so, partner." If it was no, that was it, he'd accept it. But Jeremy's face grinned a mile-wide yes, so he threw him down, grabbed the lube and ran the liquid freely over Jeremy's hole and his cock.

He was attentive to the expression on the kid's face. Point of fact, in the last hour he knew first hand it would hurt—at first. But over the hump and he knew the pleasure he could give him—and the pleasure he would take. He slowly rested his cock atop the boy's hole. He wanted to erase what the boy's sense memory would project. "Stay with me," he said, holding Jeremy's head. He saw the boy was about to panic; that the memory of Friday night was creeping back in. "Look at me." His rigid cock penetrated the first hurdle, was gliding slowly, evenly into the boy's fuckhole, not being rejected while the boy kept his eyes on Vinnie. The moment his eyes started fluttering, he stopped, brought the boy back, letting him know he was there, right then, right now, with him. "I won't let you go, partner. I'm right here, okay?"

Jeremy said yeah, then squeezed his hole to put a grip on Vinnie's large mushroom head, to assure himself that it was really him that was slipping into his body. He said oh yeah again, changing the affirmation as a praise to heaven. Looking up into Vinnie, seeing him for the first time really smiling. The warmth radiated from smile of Vinnie's imperfect teeth, seeing him, stroking his face. The imperfections in his handsome features. Jeremy saw a slightly off-set nose, the fight it came from, an aggressiveness, a don't-give-a-fuck, a small fleck of green in his brown eyes, on his cheek a small mole he never noticed. He kissed it, then the man, pushing his butt further onto his exquisite growing rod. He was taken by him, the subtle wave of his hair—the swollen eye and cut brow that he'd inflicted. He turned away clenching his hole, trying to push Vinnie out. "You're with me. It's okay. You wanted a who, remember?" Vinnie stayed in place. "I'm your who. I'll always be your who." Vinnie kissed him on the mouth passionately, and pressed the rest of himself inside until his heavy bush contacted Jeremy's receptive hole. Jeremy came in that instant all over the forest of his chest. Vinnie was pleased and took his time as the minutes, hours went by.

***

They made love like that all through night, slept two hours and began again before dawn. As the light came up, on Jeremy's prodding, they took out the cuffs, but only if Vinnie agreed to be cuffed too. And first. Vinnie erupted probably the hardest he'd ever nutted when Jeremy had him chained with his face to the black wall buttfucking him from behind. Vinnie got them to be dirty boys, peeing on each other in the shower. Vinnie got Jeremy to drink his pee. Vinnie wouldn't reciprocate and Jeremy got mad, so they went and had breakfast at the coffee shop on the corner. Vinnie paid. Then Jeremy threw Vinnie on the bed, made Vinnie suck him off, gagged him a couple of times. Peed some in his mouth in the middle of getting head, which made Vinnie mad, dammit, got pee on the leopard spread. Jeremy replaced it with the Lion King blanket Vinnie had put on him in the night. Vinnie wasn't satisfied, so he let Vinnie spank the fuckin' goddamn shit out of his ass, just like his daddy would do back in the wood shed like when he found his two older boys play-diddling each other in the garage. Jeremy's ass was bright red. Not the first time; not the last. He hollered like heck but pulled Vinnie off which he was doing it. Then Vinnie put lotion to soothe his butt, then fucked him with his fingers in the middle of it with the lotion. Then Jeremy played with Vinnie's ass while Vinnie played with his.

At nighttime they ate sandwich ordered from the deli. Vinnie embarrassed Jeremy receiving the order naked at the elevator from the delivery boy. With a humongous hardon! Jeremy hid under the blanket. Then they bit and licked and chewed each other under the covers, flipped twice: once playing Centurion and slaveboy with chains on top of the tiger pillows in Vinnie's harem, and cowboys and Indians with the Indian—Vinnie with pigeon feather stuck in his hair—getting head on a kitchen chair tied up by Jeremy in cowboy boots and hat and nothing else. They had a few beers and put on some straight porn and jacked off, especially with the nurse and the hunky doctor. At midnight they were hungry again and ordered a chicken parm, which they agreed to split. At twelve thirty they heard the elevator buzz and Vinnie said into the intercom, "About time! We're starvin' here." This time Vinnie wore his green bathrobe and Jeremy was draped in the Lion King blanket. They still, however, were sporting hardons underneath.

The elevator door opened and Vinnie pulled back the gate with the usual crash. Mr. X stepped in followed by two extremely large men. "Vincenzo,"  Mr. X growled, "you cost me much money. You and boy." He took a pistol out of his long coat and shot him.

He looked at JT. "You two play house?" Jeremy had no answer. "Get on bed," he said, waving the gun at the stunned boy. "You," he said to one of his men, "take blanket. You," he said to the other, "cuff him to bed. Much to pay for. Lots to talk about."

***

[bareall77]

Jesus Christ. Talk about an emotional mind fuck. I'm speaking of Jeremy. My God, this poor kid has been through hell...both in his past and in the last 48hrs. Then, just as he was falling for Vinnie and trusting him again, the two of them exploring each other's desires...

I just have one question. Vinnie does not seem like a naive man. How is it he couldn't see something like this coming? Why didn't the two of them get out of there BEFORE they were found?

Fuck!!! Well I'm pissed. However, another well written chapter. Dark and fucked up, but also filled with visuals and emotions. 

[TTFN]

Well that love affair did not last long.Vinnie probably got away easier than Jeremy will.

[bareall77]

I still wonder, considering he knew the type of people involved, why didn't he take Jeremy and get the fuck out of there. 

But wasn't it Mr. X that took Vinnie in after he came back to the states? 

[asslikker]

I hope the next part "Jagged Little Pill" will address some of the ambiguity. Sorry, it's a bit longer but there a couple of other characters you have to know about. But you guys are great!!! I'd want you for my editors 

[TTFN]

14 hours ago, asslikker said:

I hope the next part "Jagged Little Pill" will address some of the ambiguity. Sorry, it's a bit longer but there a couple of other characters you have to know about. But you guys are great!!! I'd want you for my editors 

You are doing a damn good job without anyone needing to edit your work.