0 comments/  15665 views/  1 favorites

Dangerous Games Ch. 01

By: Cherri_Tart



Chapter 01 - Super Girl

It had been an unseasonably warm week, even for California. After all, it was late October and there should have been a chill on in the air at the very least. As it was, the sun had just set and the night was pleasant. A brisk breeze blew through the quiet neighborhood, stirring the leaves on the maples that lined the street every three houses or so. Nice enough that Amy had considered walking to the party. Had it been anything other then a costume party, she might have. After all, it was a mere 2 miles from the front steps of her modest one bedroom home to the house that Kevin and Jake shared and she didn't mind the exercise. It was just that she was worried that she would stand out, especially since most of the costumed people walking up and down the street and ringing door bells were 12 and under or else their parents, most of whom hadn't bothered to dress up for the evening. 

Not that there weren't exceptions, but like her, most of the adults seemed to be headed to parties and had also chosen to drive. And really, it wasn't even that she was in costume, it was just that this particular costume had turned out more daring then she had planned at first. She was a closet nerd who frequented the local comic shop every Wednesday to pick up new titles and Supergirl had been one of her heroines even as a young child. The excuse to be her for even one night had been too good to pass up. She had the figure for it, even if she rarely took advantage of that fact; A slender and athletic build nurtured by her time on both the volley ball and swim teams. Her breasts were on the smaller side, but firm and round with youth, and her waist was small enough that her slim hips and bottom looked fuller then they really were. 

Naturally blonde and blue eyed, she didn't even have to get fancy with a wig to play the part. She'd made the decision moments after receiving her invitation. Yes, she was Supergirl tonight, although a somewhat bashful version. She's taken great pains to make the uniform perfect, from the gold trimmed crimson cape to the matching boots, all based on several of her favorite art, some of which had been somewhat... well, cheesecake came to mind. It had still captured the spirit of Superman's cousin, Kara, and she had secretly thrilled that she might turn heads tonight. 

Trying it on for the first time two nights ago, had left her unsure, but determined to brave it out. The skirt, that looked so perfect on Kara, seemed far to short for comfort, and much to low on her hips and her top hugged her so tight as to be... well, it certainly was form fitting. Suddenly, she was very thankful that it wasn't very cold out. Not only would it make wearing the skimpy outfit uncomfortable, but she realized that any little 'bump' would stand out quite obviously. The last thing she wanted was to be walking around while everyone stared at her nipples. As it was... well, what was done was done. She could always wrap her cape around her torso. She'd worked to hard to make her outfit authentic to back out now and after one or two drinks, maybe she would stop worrying about it so much.

She hurried out to her car in the short drive, and slipped in, noting how the breeze played havoc, not only with her cape, but her skirt. She'd left her purse behind, only taking her wallet and phone in one hand and her keys in the other. Another mistake, seeing as how she spent the entire 10 yards keeping her skirt in place so as not to reveal her matching blue panties. Getting in was another challenge and by the time she had closed the car door, she was giggling nervously and had all but given up on adjusting her skirt so that it was under her thighs rather then pushed up against the back seat of her Toyota Corolla. Ok, so she'd have to be careful sitting down too. She hoped that she'd discovered all the quirks in her choice of costume for the night. 

She arrived fashionably late, and had to park around the corner and about a block and a half up the street. She might have well as walked the entire way, she thought as she hurried down the slight hill, careful not to go too fast, ever mindful of the slight breeze that had picked up since she'd left. She breathed a thankful sigh that the canopy of the trees blocked out some of the glow from the street lights above and cloaked her in shadow. Perfect, she thought. And the party would probably run late, so going home would be easy as well. She glanced at her wrist automatically, before realizing that she had left her watch at home as well. After all, what use did Supergirl have for a watch? If she had to hazard a guess, it was a quarter to nine. The invite had said 8, but it was likely that maybe over half of her fellow invitees hadn't even showed up yet and might not for another 30 or 40 minutes. Hopefully she wouldn't stand out too much before having a drink or two, just enough to relax her inhibitions enough to enjoy herself. 

It was easy enough to pick out Kevin's place as she turned the corner. Carved pumpkins lined the walk, fake tombstone filled the front lawn. There was even a lone ghost looking like he was floating back and forth beneath the oak tree that filled one half of their front yard. And lights... it looked like they'd bought up every orange and red light to string up around the eaves of the house and the tree branches. Shadows moved within the windows, letting her know that there was actually something going on inside, and a little bit of music leaked out. She recognized it as Black Sabbath. Typical. More then likely they'd put a lot of care into making CD's to fit the Halloween theme. She smiled fondly as she finally arrived on the porch, stopped to appreciate the 'bloody corpse' that sat in a lawn chair, a severed head in it's lap, and rang the doorbell.

She was almost immediately greeted and ushered in by Dracula himself, although this vampire seemed to prefer Bud to Blood. In no time at all, she had surrendered her belongings to Jake after gamely letting him nibble on her shoulder and whisper "God, Amy, you look amazing." 

She blushed at his praise, but part of her reveled in it as well. It was nice to hear from time to time. After all, she really worked at it and rarely took advantage of it. She gave him a bright smile as a reward and wandered off towards the kitchen, greeting those she recognized before claiming a cold bottle of Sam Adams for herself. She felt a twinge of guilt at that. Supergirl wouldn't approve. Well, she'd limit herself to 2 for the night and get them out of the way before everyone else showed up. That way, by the time they did, she'd be sufficiently loosened up. 

Amy had never been a heavy drinker, and after her second beer in under 45 minutes, she was having a wonderful time, chatting with friends while giggling and smiling at the praise that was being lavished on her for her costume. She was aware that some of it was simply because of the amount of skin she showed but that had stopped bothering her after a while. Now, she had even begin to enjoy it, making an effort to flirt a little with anyone who stopped to chat with her. After a while, she had even abandoned the small knots of friends that she felt safe with to wander about a little, mixing with everyone. It was on of those events where it didn't matter if you knew someone or not. After all, everyone here was someone else for the night and most of them had, after several drinks themselves, begun to get, more or less, into character. She was no exception. 

That was why, when she found herself suddenly standing next to a man dressed as Brainiac, one of superman's arch enemies whose mental powers were formidable, it was easy to let herself believe that he might just be able to exert control over mind. Of course, this was all in fun and she didn't for a moment take it seriously, but when they got to chatting and he seemed intent on playing the part as well, she let herself go along with the game. Taking his suggestion that they find somewhere quiet to talk about their common interest in all things 'super' as well as his suggestion that they help themselves to the bar first, she soon found herself sitting on Kevin's bed next to her arch-nemesis, a rum and coke in hand. They weren't alone. After all, the party was in full swing and there was a finite amount of space within the house. Fortunately, the weather was still holding and much of the excess had spilled into the back yard. 

It made perfect sense, after talking animatedly for close to an hour and a half and finishing off her drink, for her to readily agree to go take a look at his collection of comic related items. From the sound of things, it was pretty amazing and she was curious. Besides, she was still playing the role of Supergirl and trying to find out what his game was. The fact that she'd just finished off a fairly strong drink didn't exactly make her cautious either. Besides, he was fun and good looking and she'd been having more fun in the last 2 hours then she'd had at the last 3 parties combined. 

He lived in the hills, about 20 minutes or so away, and he insisted on driving. As they rode along, their conversation taking on several twists and turns, she admired his handiwork discretely. He'd managed to make his skin green and yet, somehow natural, and the costume she could have well believed to be from a Hollywood film set. Not only that but it was somewhat form fitting, although not nearly as embarrassingly so as hers. Still, it showed off a fine physic. Strange, considering that he was somewhat of a nerd, at least about comic books. But then, so was she in a sense, despite her 'cheerleader' good looks.

By the time they pulled into the drive she was feeling relaxed and admittedly buzzed enough not to worry so much about keeping her skirt in place. In fact, she'd forgotten to pay attention at all during the ride and was a little embarrassed to realize that if he had been trying to take a peek at her panties, he would have already gotten more then a glimpse. Shrugging it off, she decided that he had kept his eyes on the road for most of the drive over and if he had snuck one or two glances, she certainly didn't mind as much as she thought she might have. 

The house itself was a modest affair, at least compared to some of the buildings in the neighborhood. As they took the path up to the door, side by side, her cape and hair lifted slightly by a sudden breeze, one that forced her to press her hands against her thighs in a panic as her skirt threatened to blow up as well. Next year, she vowed, she would wear something less... revealing. Then again, she would never have met Brainiac otherwise.

"My secret lair, Kara. Prepare to be amazed.." 

"Oh, my name is..." she blurted out, suddenly realizing that they'd never properly introduced themselves in all the time they'd spent talking. Before she could finish the sentence, he had pressed his hand against her lips, silencing her.

"Shush. I know your name already, Supergirl. Kara Zor-el, from the planet Krypton. You forget who I am. I know everything there is to know about you."

His smile was disarming and she decided to go along with the game, nodding her assent before he consented to remove his fingers from her lips. After all, she was kind of having fun not being Amy for a night. No reason that it had to end now. 

Smiling with what she thought was a look of grateful relief, he punched in the alarm code on the box near the front door, unlocked the door, and swung it open, motioning her inside. With a nervous giggle Amy stepped inside and waited, looking about curiously, not paying any attention to the fact that he had reset the alarm and locked and bolted the door behind them.

The inside of the house was fairly unassuming. Not exactly boring, but certainly not eccentric. She did appreciate the touch of having framed comic art along one wall. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and The Flash. It was a nice touch, one that she could certainly appreciate especially after looking closer and noting that they weren't just photocopied prints, but seemed to be the real deal, signed and numbered. 

"Wow. These are great." She exclaimed, turning a bright and somewhat tipsy smile towards him.

"Thanks. It's not like that all over. I just like to be greeted at the door by my heroes when I come home. Can I get you anything? A drink, or..."

Amy shook her head. She was done for the night as far as drinking was concerned. After all, Supergirl wouldn't get drunk and one more and she would be in danger of just that. Mostly she was just interested in his collection. Not the books so much, but this kind of thing. Artwork, memorabilia. He even claimed to have some rare action figures and dolls that she'd only ever seen on ebay for ridiculous amounts. It would be kind of cool to actually see them in person. He seemed to sense this. After all, it had been the main topic of conversation right before he had offered to bring her home. With a smile, he took her elbow gently, steering her down the hallway, past several doorways to what looked almost like the door to a bank vault. Amy looked at the arch villain questioningly.

He lifted one eyebrow, going for a menacing look and managing to sell it. Pushing 'Amy' back so that 'Kara' had room to play, she returned it with one of her own. "What kind of secrets are you hiding, Brainiac?" Somehow, she managed not to giggle immediately after delivering the line.

Chuckling, He moved a framed picture of Lex Luthor aside to reveal a keypad. "Mind turning around or at least closing your eyes?" 

Nodding, Amy turned while he punched in the number and then unlocked the door. The lights came on automatically to reveal a room about the size of a very spacious walk in closet. Against the wall to her right stood a trio of curio cases, filled with super hero action figures still in their boxes and statues proudly displayed, as well as other items. She moved in to take a closer look, noting the art work on the wall behind her, as well as Brainiac's presence.

"These are really cool." She said, admiration in her voice and a little bit of awe as she noticed the anime styled statue of herself... well, Supergirl.

"It's new." He edged up behind her to peer over her shoulder, so close that she could feel his breath upon her hair, stirring the fine hair on her neck in a way that wasn't at all unpleasant. She suddenly had an almost overwhelming urge to turn and kiss him. It was his doing, she told herself. He was using his powers on her. It wasn't at all the alcohol or the fact that it had been at least 6 months since she had been properly kissed. She had no control over it. 

It took very little effort to convince herself, and once she did, it took even less to turn into him, tilting her chin slightly upwards. Toes pointed and pushing against the hard wood floor, she almost levitated into the kiss, one she wasn't sure who had initiated. It didn't matter. She wanted it. Supergirl wanted it, and it made no difference that he was her worst enemy. She wasn't disappointed. He kissed her back without hesitation, firmly and decisively. It wasn't a tentative kiss. It was the kind that she would have expected from Brainiac. Demanding and a little rough. It was a perfect kiss, just the kind she deserved. His hand was suddenly behind her head, his fingers curling in her hair, tightening almost painfully as he turned her with ease and pushed her against the far wall, pressing against her. With no where to go, she had little choice but to let his tongue force her mouth open, violating her with little regard for her wants or desires. It was all about what he wanted. She was powerless to fight him, or so she told herself. He was in control here. 

She felt his hand against her bare thigh, short flat nails gripping her flesh, squeezing her playfully, possessively, releasing her as they slide slowly up. She felt the hem of her skirt lifting, his hand upon her hip, his fingers pressing against one cheek as he pushed them beneath her panties. She gasped into his mouth, twisting in a moment of panic at the speed at which he was moving. In response he pulled away from her, his face mere inches from hers, forcing her to meet his dark gaze.

"Where are your powers now, Kara," he whispered roughly, playing the game perfectly. It was a game, after all. At least she thought it still was. Now, she was no longer sure. Not that it mattered. She wanted this too much to care.

"You'll never get away with this, Brainiac." Tried and true, it was all she could think of with his eyes boring deep into hers. It was like he was looking into her deepest, darkest secrets, searching for something that even she didn't know existed.

He smiled, his expression softening a little, just enough to reassure her and make her relax. He still held her against the wall, but she sensed that, with the right word, he would let her go. This time it was she who held his gaze. Not Amy, though. It was Kara Zor-el who stared him down, confidant that she would find a way to beat him, given enough time.

"Do your worst, Villain," she growled, her voice husky with put on anger and very real desire.

It was all he needed. She found herself trapped once more, pushed flat against the wall, his fingers probing beneath her skirt, cupping her ass beneath her panties. God, she was wet. Just a little more and the tips of his fingers would be between her cheeks and then they would travel down between her legs and he would know how much she wanted him. There would be no disguising it. She moaned softly against his lips, opening herself up for his kiss, as he ravaged her mouth with his tongue while her own tongue responded in kind. 

Fuck me." She told him, beyond the point of reasoning, her baser needs pushing aside her common sense, thoughtless for any thing beyond her quickly building lust. "Do it."

"Beg me," he replied, giving her a chance to breathe as he broke their kiss. His kiss, really. She had little say in the matter. "I want to hear the all powerful Supergirl begging for it." He tightened his grip in her hair for emphasis, his index fingers lazily snaking down the crease of her ass, closer and closer to her wet and willing crevice.

"Please, Fuck me like I've never been fucked before." So violent was her outburst that she actually surprised herself, one hand flying up to her mouth as if to push the words back in. She began to giggle, feeling a little light headed. She wondered if maybe they should take a step back. Maybe have another drink and sit on the couch and make out. 

He must have seen in her eyes. Cupping her chin in one hand, he lifted her face to his, this time kissing her gently, almost tenderly. "Sorry, Kara. I guess I got a little carried away. We both did. Tell you what. You want that drink now? Maybe we can go sit on the couch and just hang out for a while like earlier. Would you like that?"

Amy nodded mutely, somewhat disappointed. After all, she really had wanted him to take her there, against her will. Not that it would have been without her consent. She sighed. The moment was over and she wondered if she'd just ruined it. 

He kissed her forehead gently, stepping back so that she could slip out from between him and the wall, straightening her skirt and tugging it back into place. Glancing at him, she saw that his attention was on her chest. Embarrassed, she realized that her nipples were poking out like small pebbles against the material of her costume. And, on top of that, she was sure the if she dared lift her skirt the front panel of her panties would be soaked so thoroughly as to be practically transparent.

"Turn around?" It was a question rather then a demand, but he complied immediately, giving her a chance to adjust her underwear and check that she was decent. Or at least presentable. Without another word said, they exited the 'treasure room', shut off the lights, and locked the door behind them.    He seated her in the love seat in the living room and disappeared for a few moments, returning with a matched set of glasses with, presumably, a mixture of rum and coke. She didn't even wait for him to sit, taking a small gulp to help her relax again. She was so keyed up with sexual tension as well as being somewhat nervous about what had almost happened in his display room, that her hand was shaking a little as she drank. He smiled at her, seemingly relaxed, and that helped as well. 


Dangerous Games Ch. 01



The heat was on. As soon as I scanned my coded email while standing in a line at Starbucks, the heat took possession. I did not open the attached files. I did not know the details. But it did not matter. The heat took over.

The awareness started in my gut, opening it, closing it. Then it surfaced to my navel. The heat settled in, marking my navel as the headquarters. Suddenly aware of the square miles of skin that imprisoned my body, I felt the heat drilled into every pore in my skin, waves of electrons surging through every nerve under my skin, lightning sparks jumping on the surface. My crotch tightened and warmed.

I wondered if the people around me noticed my arousal. The three young men behind had their heads down, index fingers gliding left to right, scrolling through their iPhone screens. The two women in front had their heads up, studying the menu, as if they had never been in a Starbucks. There was a man across the room, sipping his latte, his head down but his eyes up. He was checking me out. I ignored him, bought my coffee, and hurriedly left. I needed to learn the details.

That night, I dreamt of the heat penetrating the soles of my feet, tracing the semi-circle of every toe, from smallest to biggest. Half awake, the heat split into two parallel streams, oozing out of both my heels, rising up my calves, hitting my knees, twisting and rotating, round and round, warming my inner and outer thighs. The streams, flowing like volcanic lava, united into one large lake between my legs.

No longer able to sleep, my chest rising and falling, my breathing labored, I kicked off the thin sheets that covered my nude body. The cool air in the room surrounded me, the heat rushing out of millions of pores. Billions of heat molecules flew out the open window, floating up like hot balloons, escaping gravity at the speed of light. My body cooled and my breathing became normal. I turned sideways, curled like a twenty-week fetus.

I counted one Mississippi, two Mississippi. When I reached ten Mississippi, the heat appeared again on my rock-hard stomach. I turned to face the ceiling again. This time, the heat was gentle, slowly staining my body in concentric circles, emanating out from my navel, like blood from a bullet wound. My heart exploded, the fragments bouncing around my rib cage. I closed my eyes and stopped breathing.

After a minute, I sucked in oxygen. The heat attacked my nipples. I flipped over, face buried in the pillow, holding my breath again. My lungs ache for air, my heart throbbing in my throat. I clasp my hands behind me, fingers interlaced at the small of my back. The heat was unrelenting, not letting me go. My body twitched and shivered. My brain was no longer functioning. My cunt took over.

At first I did it mostly for the money. The heat was present, but played a minor role. A few short years later, after millions sat in numbered accounts in the Bahamas and Cayman Islands, the heat became the only reason.

>>>>>

EPCOT, Disney's most adult theme park and twice as big as the more popular Magic Kingdom, was not congested on a cool February morning. While the rest of the country was frozen in ice and stacked with snow, Orlando was expecting a high of fifty five with plenty of sun.

The cartel chief's grandson of twelve hopped excitedly a few paces in front of him, stopping to collect a Spanish version of the guide map. Handing the camera to his bodyguard, the chief and his grandson stood with wide smiles in the shadows of Spaceship Earth.

Diagonally behind them, I snapped a quick picture of grandpa and grandson. A split second later, the digital image bounced off a satellite, hit the pizza-sized dish mounted on the side of a building in northern Virginia, and appeared on the eighty-inch screen of an analyst. Thirty seconds later, a secure text arrived on the screen of my cell. The coded text message confirmed he was the target.

I hid the camera in my black shoulder bag and followed the two men and the kid as they turned west, heading for the very popular ride Soaring. There were no opportunities to get close enough. So I waited in the food court outside the ride. It was thirty five minutes before the trio appeared again. The kid loved the ride. Grandpa collected fast passes for another ride at 11:30. The fast passes would remain unused.

They headed east and then south, the iconic sights of the World Showcase attractions visible. The bodyguard took another loving picture, grandpa carrying the kid on his shoulder. I kept my distance, my head down, my nails tapping the screen of my cell, pretending to read.

A poster on a lamppost captured the attention of the chief. "Michael Jackson! The king of pop." He was so loud I heard him say Michael the way Mexican immigrants did. While they stopped for more pictures, I passed to enter the Captain EO Theater. Cast members stood to hand out 3-D glasses for the eighteen minute presentation. I held and tilted the glasses at an angle that allowed me to see the reflection of the target just a few yards behind.

I sat down on the last row. He picked the second row, with the kid sitting in the middle. When the lights were cut, I fished out from my bag an odd device with a needle sticking out of one end. When the deafening thumping beat of Jackson's music was in full swing, I shifted as silently as I could to the third row, directly behind the target. There was nobody else in the theater.

There was another pause in the music. The bodyguard stretched and turned to his left to glance at his boss. The chief was deep in conversation with his grandson. The bodyguard lowered his six-five frame so he could rest his head on the edge of the backrest. Ten seconds later, despite the loud music, he was asleep and snoring softly.

My target turned sideways to glance behind him. He saw a brunette with straight hair that framed an attractive face hidden behind the dark 3D glasses. His eyebrows were raised for a second, as if he was puzzled. His face and neck muscles were tensed. I could see a throbbing vein on his neck. He might have seen me in the last row before the movie started. He might have wondered why I moved to sit directly behind him, although there were empty seats that afforded a better view. But he felt safe because I was only a woman. He turned to face the front again, relaxed.

The music ramped up again, Michael Jackson was doing his famous moonwalk. Patience. I waited until the screen darkened before positioning the needle an inch from the back of his neck. When the ear splitting music exceeded ninety decibels, I pressed a button that shot the sharp tip of the needle deep into his neck. He twitched, his tongue twisted, and let out a soft gasp. His head slumped downward in an odd angle. The kid was standing and dancing, imitating the body movements of the late Michael Jackson, totally oblivious that his grandfather had just suffered a fatal heart attack. The tip of the needle had delivered the chemical and dissolved itself into the chief's blood.

Seconds later, if anyone had been looking, they would have seen a blonde emerged from the theater. I had hidden the brown wig in my bag as I walked to the entrance. My heart was racing and my breathing labored, but I bit my tongue and forced myself to walk at a natural pace. I made it to the tram outside the gates by the time the show ended, the lights came on, and the crew discovered the body. Emergency vehicles passed me on the opposite side of the road as I drove the rented Ford Fusion out of Disney's sprawling property. The onboard GPS guided me to the turnpike and I headed south.

After the job, the heat, which was suppressed during the execution, returned with a vengeance. Before the job, the heat was a distraction, disrupting my sleep at night and popping up at odd moments in the day. I had to force it out of me as I focused on the details of the plan. During the job itself, the heat was dormant. After the job, I no longer existed and the heat took over. Somebody's blood was no longer flowing, but my blood was flowing faster with each passing minute. I was never more alive and aroused than the minutes and hours after the job. My hormones went into overdrive. My juices demanded release.

But I had to wait. Patience. Discipline. There were procedures to follow. I had to back track and drive in circles, ensuring nobody was following. Actually, the waiting made it better. The slow burn aroused like nothing else. As I was driving, I could not help but touched myself constantly through my soaked jeans. I cranked up the AC to the maximum, rotating the dial so hard it almost broke. With only one hand on the wheel, I slipped the straps of the tank top over my shoulders and down my elbows. My top gathered around my waist. I adjusted the vent so the AC blew directly on my pointed nipples. Goose pimples formed on my breasts. The car windows were dark enough so nobody could see I was riding half naked.

My body temperature within control, I set the car on cruise control, a mile less than the speed limit, the GPS pointed at Miami. I deliberately stopped frequently, waiting until dusk before collecting my reward.

>>>>>

Using the car's rearview mirror, I checked the layers of makeup one last time, brushed my hair again before stepping out in stilettos. With five inches added to my athletic frame, I stood at six two, instantly capturing the attention of every man as I entered the upscale respectable bar with wood panels on the walls. Adjusting to the L-shaped smoke-filled room, I scanned from left to right to locate him, my long-time government handler.

Victor Garcia stood up and waved his hand from inside a booth on a raised wooden platform. He wore torn jeans, white T-shirt tucked in, and a black PVC jacket. Most of his hair was tucked into a pony tail, some of it escaped and partially covered his eyes and ears. As I sashayed toward the booth, he turned sideways to let me pass. He smelled good today, a touch of Old Spice. I slid in and sat down opposite him. On the table was a bottle of Bud Lite and an iPhone. We locked eyes until we both were seated.

"I see that you are dressed to kill, no pun intended." Instead of returning to where he had sat, Victor sat on my side of the booth, trapping me inside against the wood panel. He extended his arm and wrapped it behind me, resting it on the top of the backrest.

"Why? Does it turn you on? Do you have a boner now?" I adjusted my hair so that part of it rested on his extended arm.

"Let's get business out of the way first, shall we?" Victor tilted the screen of his phone so I could see. "The funds are already deposited. Go ahead and verify."

I raised my eyebrows and took the phone, nails deliberately scratching the back of his hand before he could move it away. The heat was rising.

He returned to his side of the booth and finished the rest of the beer.

He liked it that I was one heck of an operative, Victor told me once. I was unique and could handle cases nobody else could. As my handler, Victor knew exactly the type of cases to assign to me. I had an odd sense of justice. Foreign targets were my specialty. I insisted on no women or Americans. Just foreign money launderers, drug dealers, human traffickers, weapons dealers, terrorists, and anyone who gave aid and comfort to them.

My favorite were those involved in the vice trade, I told Victor one night. These men should have their penis cut off slowly with a butter knife, and then shoved deep in their mouths until they suffocate on their own organ. A separate section of hell should be reserved for them. That night, after a job, we had downed a bottle of Jack Daniels between us. That night was the one and only time we had sex.

Recently, in Victor's opinion, my sexual preference had drifted to the extreme. Still, he did whatever I wanted. He considered keeping me happy part of his job description.

He did not mind that I was taking a long time to check all my accounts. I could sense he was openly looking me over, starting from my toes. My legs were crossed and ended in a pair of low-slung tight denim shorts, the one-inch front zipper holding it together. He knew I was not wearing anything under the shorts because I loved the feeling of the rough fabric moving against and cutting into my womanhood. Satisfied the money was there, I glanced up from the phone and parted my lips just enough to reveal the tip of my tongue.

I caught him gazing at the reflective material of my shiny metallic silver jacket. The zip in front of my jacket was halfway down, just enough to reveal a glimpse of the black bra hiding a pair of 36C breasts. He knew my exact measurements because he would sometimes hand me the material I was supposed to wear, with built-in GPS to track my movements.

"Did you arrange my bonus?" I asked as I handed back his phone.

"One phone call and it's in play," he looked me over again. I hoped he did not notice the tiny drops of perspiration forming on my forehead. The heat was getting out of control. "Please wait for me to walk out before doing anything." The phone was glued to his ear as he hurried away from the bar.

The door was still swinging when I edged away from the booth. There were two men sitting at the bar, one at each corner. I took the seat between them and ordered whisky on the rocks. Almost instantly, both men reacted. One of them leaned toward the bartender and whispered. The other, the one wearing a three piece suit, moved to stand behind me. I sensed his presence but did not react. I saw him loosening his tie from the reflection of the mirror behind the bottles of wine and liquor.

The bartender placed my drink in front of me. "The gentleman there had taken care of this," pointing to the man on the right. He bowed when I lifted the glass in his direction. His chiseled body was in a sleeveless black T-shirt and jeans, secured by a thick belt with a Harley Davidson buckle.

Both men kept drinking, waiting. I emptied the glass of whisky, pushing out a cube of ice after playfully rolling it in my mouth under my tongue. Another whisky on the rocks appeared in front of me, this time from the suited man. The suit slid ever so slightly until he was standing in the space between his stool and mine, his arms on the back of both stools. He looked over the top of my head to the man wearing the Harley buckle. As if in response to the challenge, Harley took three large steps to stand just behind me. His shadow covered a semicircle of the bar top.

Both men were so close I felt the heat from their bodies. Their heat were almost as urgent as my own. I wondered if they could tell the hot blood coursing through my arteries as I leaned back. My butt slid on the cold steel of the stool and my denim shorts hiked up. I kept my knees together and squeezed.

I sipped the second glass of whisky and broke the silence. "Are you guys going to drink whisky with me or you're just going to stand there?" It was loud enough for the bartender to appear with two glasses for each man. I emptied the glass and spit out two cubes of ice, one at a time, the ice hitting the glass nosily. Both men did the same.

They moved so they could stand on my right and left, each one with one arm resting on the bar and the other holding the back of my stool. I was trapped. Three more glasses appeared on the bar.

"Just drinking is boring. Let's play a game and drink at the same time." I stood up. I stood taller than the suit but shorter than Harley, even with heels. The suit must be five eleven and Harley six five. The suit was wiry and Harley muscular. Both looked to be in their forties.

"What would you like to play?" The suit's voice was strong and clear.

"I see a pool table over there," I picked up my drink. The men picked up theirs.

"Very well, it will be my pleasure," the suit led the way. Harley was behind me. I was sandwiched between the two men.

The two pool tables were in a separate area, only one of them visible from the bar. Two men were working the one nearer the bar. The other table was unoccupied.

"The rule here is we play for money. We do not play for fun," the suit spoke and appeared to be the leader. Harley was the gofer.

I unzipped my jacket and removed it. The heat was unbearable. "Look here. All I brought was my body. You could take my jacket if I lose." I tossed my jacket to Harley. He caught it and folded it neatly, the perfect gofer.

"No offense, lady. Your jacket is not worth much. We play for one grand per game." As if to make the point, the eight ball on the other table rolled into the side pocket. Ten one hundred dollar bills were counted out and handed over.

The two men had noticed me. Behaving like typical men, they decided to quit and moved over. Like a magnet, I was attracting attention as the tall blonde wearing only short shorts and a black push up bra. The makeup was heavy and I was playing a role. The men knew it was all fake but did not care.

The clinking of glasses and the conversations in the restaurant had ceased. As soon as Victor Garcia left, the bartender hung a handwritten sign with the words, "Sorry, Bar and Restaurant Closed." Five hundred dollar gift cards had persuaded the remaining customers to come back another time.

"Surely my body is worth several games," I did a full rotation as if on a catwalk.

"I've seen better. But it is definitely worth one game."

"Let's play," I needed to fast forward before I got deep fried from the heat.

"One more condition," he was in no hurry. His heat was under control.

"What now?"

"To add to the thrill, let's also impose the rules of strip pool."

"How does it work?" The speed of my question betrayed my impatience.

"Every time you miss, you remove an article of clothing."

"The same for you?"

"Of course."

"I am wearing only bra, shorts, and heels. You are fully suited. That is unfair."

"Nothing under the shorts?" He was intentionally delaying.

"Nothing, pervert."

"Very well. You make a valid point."

He removed his jacket, dress shirt, undershirt, belt, and shoes. The two men dragged two high chairs to watch the curious blonde staking her own body for $1,000.

He walked in his socks toward me, the curly red hair on his chest leering at me. "I am wearing only my boxers, pants, and socks. Still game? As a gentleman, I am giving you one last chance to decline and walk out of here with your honor intact."

"You are talking trash. Make sure you have the cash. I ain't taking no checks or credit cards. And your suit is too cheap to be collateral."

He counted out ten hundreds and slapped them down on the other pool table, using one of his shoes as paper weight.

"Let the two men here be witnesses. You are whoring yourself for merely one grand. Correct?"

"For a moment, I thought you were a gentleman. But your language betrays you."

"I prefer to call a spade a spade. You are indeed a whore, willing to bet your body for $1,000."

"I've been called slut or bitch, but I was never a whore."

The men laughed and doubled over. It was surreal.

"I am afraid that tonight, my dear, you have become a whore. Again, if we cannot agree that you are a prostitute, please feel free to walk away now. My bodyguard will return your cheap jacket."

He was purposely yanking my chain. He knew I could not reject the challenge.

"Okay. Let's rock and roll." I picked up the triangle and began to place the balls inside.

"One more thing," he touched my elbow.

"What else?" I turned and deliberately brushed my chest and legs against him. A slight smile escaped. I could tell his hardness was as urgent as the boiling juices inside me. He could not hold out much longer without becoming a sperm-based IED.

"You said earlier we should drink and play."

"And?"

"Whoever misses a shot strips and then empties a glass of Jack."

"Deal." That bastard knew I would agree to almost anything to get the challenge going.




Dangerous Games Ch. 01



"Ladies and whores first." He was doing everything he could to break my concentration.

I split the balls in all directions. They bounced nosily off the walls and several came close to the pockets. But none entered. I removed my heels. The bartender filled up my glass to the brim. I downed it in two gulps.

He pocketed four in a row. The fifth was literally a stretch, corner to corner. He stood on his toes and stretched his full five eleven frame. I stood opposite him, squeezed my shoulders, and bent forward with a wide smile, displaying a generous view of cleavage. He glanced up just before making the shot. At the precise moment he glanced up, I slipped a strap off my shoulder and exposed my left nipple. His arm tremored very slightly. It was enough to alter the angle so the seven ball bounced off the edge of the pocket.

"Motherfucking son of a bitch!" His voice broke into falsetto.

"Are you referring to yourself, my Lord?" I could not resist as I handed the whisky to him. He downed it in one breath. The pants came off, revealing polka dot boxers.

I circled the table with my cue, bending down and looking several times for the perfect angle. As I passed the man formerly dressed in a suit, I cupped his enlarged penis, amazed he was still maintaining the same size. Another four hours and he might have to seek medical attention.

I picked my angle and pocketed four in quick succession. It was clear I was not your typical blonde bar chick hanging on the arms of a man. The two witnesses were no longer sitting. They tried to stand opposite me whenever I bent down and took a shot so they could enjoy the best view. Harley shadowed me and stood behind me with each shot. Only the suit sat calmly as I quickly reduced the number of balls on the table.

The cue ball rolled behind the eight ball and the next shot looked impossible. I would have to bounce the ball off the walls twice to even have a prayer. I pulled on my bra and adjusted the straps. My fingers curled around the belt loops and pulled up the shorts as high as it would go. My mind was sharpest and my body perfectly tuned for play when I was maximally aroused.

With a last tug of my shorts, I blocked out the rest of the world and lined up the stick with the ball, half closing my left eye. My right foot was directly behind my left foot and my body twisted diagonally sideways. The four men in the room did not exist and I was unaware of Harley inching closer behind me. A hundredth of a second before the tip of the stick touched the cue ball, Harley slid his leather shoes forward, touching my right foot and altering my precarious balance very slightly. It was so subtle the two witnesses did not see it. I did not even feel it because the rest of my body was moving as well. The cue ball striked the ten ball just half a degree off. The ten ball bounced against both sides of the middle pocket but stayed an eighth of an inch from the edge of the pocket.

I let out a huge sigh and released the two hooks at the back of my bra.

"Hang on," the suit had seen the bodyguard's motion. He walked up to Haley and punched him in the nose, hard enough for blood to ooze out from the left side of his nose. "Apologize to her."

"I am sorry," I heard Harley speak for the first time. "I pushed you very slightly before you took your shot."

"Get the fuck out of my sight. You disgraced me. You're fired." The suit's voice echoed off the paneled walls.

Head hanging down, Harley was gone in a second. The two witnesses returned to their seats.

"I apologize for the misbehavior of my employee. Please take a free shot from anywhere to compensate."

Placing the cue ball next to the ten ball, I easily placed it in the pocket. I pocketed the remaining two balls as well as the eight ball.

With the help of the free shot, I had won, fair and square. I took the thousand dollars and gave half of it to one witness, the other to the other witness. But both men took it and threw it at my face. They blocked the path to the door. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. The exit door had been locked.

"Come and collect your prize." The suit removed his boxers. His trapped penis sprang out. It pointed up and directly at my mouth.

"You are not a man of your word. You are not letting me go freely. I thought you were a gentleman when you fired your bodyguard. Instead, you are a cowardly asshole." The suit was skinny and I could take him. But I would have to eliminate the threat of the two witnesses, who suddenly seemed to be on his side. The two men moved beside me and held my arms.

"Wrong. I am and will always be a gentleman and a man of my word. You insisted on playing with your body. If you lose, you get fucked."

"But I won."

"Exactly. That means I lost. That means I get fucked."

"What kind of sick logic is that?"

"You lose you get fucked by me. I lose, I get fucked by you." The men holding me nodded in agreement. "Perfect logic." His penis inched forward. His mistake.

When his penis was within range, I kicked so hard the suit cried out and turned blue. He doubled over and was temporarily out of commission. She faked a struggle with the two men, pushing them left, then right, backward, then forward. The two men were not in shape and could not keep up with my pushing and shoving. Their breathing became labored. I stepped back and kick them both at the same time, one on each knee. When their grip loosened, I broke free and head butted one of them, then the other. They were both knocked out.

The suit began to stir. I elbowed him in the face, followed with another kick to the crotch. I wrestled him to the ground, applied a wrestling move called full nelson to lock up his arms, and applied pressure until he screamed and submitted.

"Kneel and close your eyes," I ordered and he obeyed. "Count to one hundred and do not open your eyes until then." He started counting slowly.

I sprinted to the bar, looked behind the counter, and found a bunch of a dozen keys. Trying each key, the count reached 25 before I could unlock the door.

Harley and the bartender stood outside behind the door. "Back up," Harley waved a gun.

I froze when I saw Victor.

Victor, hogtied and gagged, was dragged inside by the bartender. The door was locked again after all three men entered. The bartender produced another gun and pointed it at Garcia's temple.

Harley threw a pair of handcuffs at my feet. "Kneel on your knees and cuff yourself behind." I faced Victor, winked and blew him a kiss. I got down to my knees and locked my wrists together, positioning the cuffs so I could swing them over my toes to my front if I were to get the opportunity.

I could sense Harley standing a safe distance behind and watching me like a dangerous wild animal. My hands shackled behind, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me up to my feet. He force marched me to the bar, bent me over the top, and smashed my face against the hard granite. "This is for causing my nose to bleed." He yanked me up by the hair and spat in my face.

Even handcuffed behind, I could have taken him. I could have kicked backward against his shin, turned around with a head butt, kneed him in the crotch, swung the cuffs in front, twisted it around his neck, choked him with the cuffs, and made him beg for mercy.

But with the gun at Victor's head, they would have blown his brains. I could not live with that. They knew my weakness.

Harley bent me over the bar counter and pushed my head into the kitchen sink. He used a section of the phone cord to tie my neck to the faucet. Another section of the phone cord was used to forcibly bind my elbows together until they touched.

The suit had recovered and stood behind. He pulled down my shorts to my knees while Harley was binding my neck and elbows. Amazingly, after recovering from being knocked out, the suit's erection was back and he rubbed it against my ass.

"Come and collect your winnings, whore."

When I protested and swore at his parents, Harley sealed my lips with duct tape. The suit entered me from behind. My cunt was abused, and then more painfully, my butt hole. The heat did not go away. Instead, danger and pain made the heat rise even further.

"Looks like this cunt is so wet she needs more than one dick at the same time," the suit said as he slapped my butt and thrusted, in and out, then sideways to increase his pleasure. Despite his efforts to prolong his pleasure, he could not hold it in. His warm cum dripped out of my butt. "Bring her to the table so the witnesses can fuck her as well."

Harley untied my neck and dragged me by the hair to the pool table. Face down and arms behind, I was bent over the longer side of the table, my hair spread on the table. My bra was removed and tied around my head, partially blocking my sight and restricting my breathing. Harley went to the opposite side and pulled my hair so I was forced to stay in place. The suit kicked apart my legs and invited the two witnesses to use me. He sat on a high stool to watch the action.

One of the witnesses, I could no longer see which one, entered me from behind. Harley moved to sit on my cuffed wrists, the metal eating into the small bones of my wrists. The other witness climbed the table and knelt in front of me. Tearing off the duct tape sealing my mouth, he positioned his erect cock in front of my lips, swinging it left and right to slap my face.

His fingers twisting one nipple, Harley ordered, "Let's see how good a whore you are. Suck it until he comes and swallow." My lips parted to cry out when the cock of the kneeling witness entered. Harley grabbed my hair to move my mouth in and out, coordinating with the witness. The cock grew steadily inside my mouth. The witness took over my hair. He thrusted it as deep as it would go, wanting to see me gagged. I fought the gag instinct and would not give him the pleasure. Pain, pleasure, and juices mixed together in one unholy trinity as they pounded me in my mouth, my cunt, and my butt.

I was half aware when I felt two cocks behind me. The suit must have joined the other witness to place his cock in my butt at the same time another cock was in my vagina. My mouth still filled with another penis, I was unable to protest. Three penises were inside me and I could feel the fourth one on my shackled wrists. The heat kept pounding me in all three places.

My wrists and fingers were numbed after Harley sat for what seemed like an hour. The witness came and shot out hot cum in my mouth. I swallowed dutifully. Harley stood up and went to the kitchen. My blood flow resumed and the pain in my wrists returned.

My wrists were unlocked. There was a moment when I was free of restraints. I removed the bra from my face and looked at Victor across the room. He was tied to a chair. The bartender sat behind Victor with a gun, smiling at me.

Harley returned from the kitchen with a large knife. He touched the tip of my nipple with the knife. "Resist and you will lose your nipples. Serve us well and you get to go free in the morning."

"What about Victor?" I asked as I sat up on the table, moving my body away from the knife.

Harley slapped me across the lips with the other hand. I was thrown sideways to the table. The knife returned to my nipple, circling it and teasing it without breaking the skin. "You are in no position to negotiate." His voice was calm.

My arms and legs were tied to the legs of the pool table. Spread eagled, I faced the ceiling, all my clothing removed. It was clear what the four men intended to do with the rest of the night. Victor's chair was moved until he sat at the edge of the table. He was gagged and forced to watch.

>>>>>

To be continued in Dangerous Games Ch. 2



Dangerous Games Ch. 01



JOHN'S STORY

I don't know how I got myself into this mess--I only wanted to earn some money and buy new tires for my car. Now I am trapped, being forced to do things I would never have done in a million years.

The worst part is I can't tell anyone. There is no way in the world I want ANYBODY to know what I do for Tommy, or for that matter, what I'm accused of doing for Jerry, as well. 

The shame and humiliation would be too much to bear. I would have to leave town if people found out, and that would be impossible--I have very little money left after this move to Florida, and, I still need new tires.

Going back home is out of the question. Tommy has threatened he will contact my dad if I don't do what he wants, and I believe him. 

My dad at the very least would disown me--maybe even cause me physical pain, or worse. 

An ugly, brutal memory remains fresh in my mind and haunts me to this day:

Years ago, one morning before school, my older brother and I were playing a game of bumper pool in the basement. It was early; we were still wearing our pajamas. 

My brother got to tormenting me, as older brothers are wont to do, and at one point, strictly to defend myself, I slipped my pool cue between my brother's legs and gently nudged his balls. We both laughed about it, but, unbeknownst to us, our father, who had left to go to work, had been watching us from outside thru the basement window.

Next thing we knew, we heard the backdoor of the house fly open, and our father clomping angrily down the basement stairs. He came straight to me, grabbed my pool cue and my arm; he jerked me over to a chair, sat down then pulled me across his lap and spanked my butt with the pool cue. He didn't stop spanking me until I was crying like a little girl. 

Throughout the spanking he kept shouting: "NO SON OF MINE WILL EVER BE A FAGGOT!!"

At the time, I was so young I had no idea what he was angry about--I had no clue what a 'faggot' even was, but after that spanking, I decided I sure as hell wasn't going to become one!

Anyway, after high school, I wanted to get a job so I could move out of my parent's house, but they insisted I go to college. They would pay for everything.

My best friend Mike and I went to school together every day. He dropped out after three-weeks and received a sizable refund from the tuition. The following week, I dropped out too and used my refund to move into an apartment with Mike.

Both of us got minimum wage jobs, settled into a routine and lived okay for a couple years. Paying the bills drained most of our paychecks so we couldn't go out much. Luckily, he had a brother who became our beer and liquor contact so we saved money by staying at home.

When we turned twenty-one, Mike went to bartending school, and a week later, so did I. We were able to land decent jobs when we graduated. We still made minimum wage, but now we made tips, as well. 

What a difference tips made! We were rolling in money, or so it seemed at the time.

Mike was good with the ladies, before we became bartenders, he'd have a girl spend the night at our place a couple times a week. Once we tended bar, it seemed like he'd have a different girl come home with him four-five times a week.

I, on the other hand, wasn't good with women. I was very shy, and didn't know what to say to them. It didn't help that I was only 5'7" and 140 pounds. While the women did say I was cute, they usually went home with the more manly guys.

Don't get me wrong--I brought home my share of pretty girls, but not nearly as many as Mike.

About a year later, I got a bug up my ass and wanted to leave my home town. Family and friends thought I was crazy; they said there was no rhyme-or-reason for my decision, but I went ahead and did it anyway. 

I chose Tampa because there would be no snow, and it was warm year-round. It was near The Gulf, and it was a big city, but not too big.

I had everything planned, or so I thought. It would take three-days to drive there; I'd arrive close to noon, find an apartment that afternoon, and move-in by evening. Then I'd look for work. I figured I'd be working by the end of the week.

In hindsight, I guess I was kind of naïve.

First off, rents were higher than I thought they'd be, and they all wanted me to fill out applications which would have to be approved before they'd even accept me, and to make matters worse, they would check my credit, which was pretty much non-existent. 

By 6pm on the day I'd arrived, I was tired and discouraged, and needed a place to stay. I found a motel I could pay by the week. It was expensive, but I didn't have much choice.

Secondly, the next day when I searched for work, I discovered there were very few bartending openings, and the ones there were, all wanted to hire female bartenders. It was very disheartening.

I finally found a job by the end of my second week. It was a store clerk job for a large, sporting goods chain store. Yes, minimum wage, but I had to take it--I wasn't qualified for better paying jobs.

I began to think I should have stayed in college.

When I had checked into the motel, the desk clerk was very friendly and we hit it off immediately. He even invited me to have a beer with him when he got off work that day. His name was Jerry, and I began going to 'Happy Hour' with him every day at 5pm.

The bar was less than a block from the motel which meant we could walk instead of drive. I'd had a couple problems with drinking and driving back home so I was thankful I wouldn't have to take my car. The name of the place was 'Rods.'

The first thing I noticed when we went inside was there weren't many females in the place. I remember breathing a sigh of relief. Don't get me wrong, I love women, but whenever I'd gone to bars with my best friend Mike, it became a competition with us: he'd bet he could pick-up a girl before me, and he always won that bet.

Like I said before, I'm pretty awkward and shy when it comes to the ladies, and besides, when I go to bars I'd rather relax and have a few drinks and shoot some pool.

The bar had six pool tables that were always in action. The game of choice appeared to be eight-ball, and I noticed money changing hands between the players. It seemed five dollars-a-game was the going bet.

Jerry and I sat and watched. I always needed a couple drinks in me before I felt confident enough to play. Well, to be honest, I played my best games when I have at least 3 drinks in me. I dunno, it just seems to calm my nerves and helps me concentrate better.

More and more people kept coming into the bar. Almost all of them guys and the behavior of some of them, and the way they were dressed, well, it suddenly occurred to me this wasn't a normal bar...no, this had to be a queer bar!

Don't get me wrong--I don't care what people do in the privacy of their homes, but some of these guys openly flaunted their fairy-ness--you'd think they'd be ashamed and embarrassed, but on the contrary, they acted as though being queer was the most normal thing in the world!

"First time in a gay bar?" Jerry asked me. I guessed he saw the expression on my face.

"Yes, of course," I replied while blushing a bright red.

"That surprises me," he said with a smile.

Was he questioning my manhood? I briefly thought about punching him and getting out of that place, but you know, he was my only friend in town.

When I drained my third drink, Jerry went to the bar for two more. I surveyed the pool tables. I'd been sizing-up the players, noting their strengths and weaknesses. I pulled a quarter out of my pocket, walked to table four and placed it beneath the side-rail then returned to our booth in time for Jerry to hand me another drink.

He raised his glass for a toast and said, "To new and exciting adventures!"

I clinked his glass and once again wondered what he'd meant.

To make a long story short, I played well, winning three games before I lost. I was up ten-bucks in twenty minutes!

When it was my turn again, I won five straight games! I began to think--why not shoot pool for a living? It would be a great to be a professional pool player!

Jerry and I didn't play a game that night...at least I don't think we did. After seven drinks my memory becomes a little fuzzy.

When I woke up the next morning I calculated I'd won fifteen-bucks. How is that possible? I wondered. At one-time I was ahead sixty-dollars!

Over the next week, I wanted to go to 'Rods', but Jerry insisted on drinking in the lounge at the motel. It was pretty boring, but Jerry gave me tickets for free drinks so I couldn't really complain.

Jerry had changed. He wasn't as eager to go to the bar as he had been when I first met him. Personally, I think he has a drinking problem and all the booze was finally getting to him. He couldn't handle liquor as well as me. Now, I wouldn't even see him until I was on my sixth or seventh drink.

My money was running dangerously low. I could not afford to live at the motel much longer. Jerry and I talked about other alternatives, and that was when he introduced me to Tommy.

JERRY'S STORY

The day Johnny walked up to the front desk my prick went BOING! inside my slacks--yes, he IS that pretty!

I was surprised when he gave me his driver's license and saw he was twenty-two; I had guessed him to be eighteen. He was as shy and reticent as an eighteen year-old; it was difficult to draw him into a sustained conversation.

I was filling-in for my daytime clerk who was on vacation. I'd worked later than usual that day; he would be my last check-in. I took a chance and asked if he wanted to have a beer. When he said 'yes', I could feel pre-cum leaking from my cock-slit. He was the sexiest boy I'd seen in a long, long time.

I took him to 'Rods' (I love the name of that place), and bought him a drink, Jack Daniel's & coke (he said he didn't like beer).

I steered him to a booth instead of a table; 'Rods' have these semi-circular booths that allows for more privacy than a table. When I'm working fresh meat, I don't want the boy to become too self-conscious.

It took Johnny awhile to realize he was in a gay bar, and he immediately began declaring, "You know I'm not gay, right?"--"I'm not a queer, you know!"--it caught me by surprise, and I was somewhat disappointed. 

Up to that point, it never occurred to me he wasn't gay. 

He was fairly soft-spoken; his delicate features and small bone structure reminded me of a girl I dated many years ago. He wasn't effeminate, that is until the liquor began to take effect. 

When he'd miss a shot, he'd make an adorable facial expression and say, "Ooops--how did I miss THAT one?" And when he returned to the booth, he didn't care that I was sitting closer-and-closer to him. 

One of the reasons I thought he was gay was that he never once offered to pay for a round of drinks. Usually, when two guys go to a bar they alternate paying for the drinks. Not Johnny--he expected me to pay for every round like he was my 'date.'. 

After his sixth JD & coke, and with his hand on my thigh, he sweetly smiled at me and asked, "Are we having another drinky?"

That gesture confused the hell out of me but renewed my interest in him. Maybe he was some sort of closet queen who needed alcohol to be with a man?

Earlier, after our third round, I had switched from beer to plain soda water with lime; I told him it was vodka and soda. I wanted to watch his behavior, learn more about him before I gave up all hope of getting 'lucky.'

I was tired, and ready to leave, but now he suddenly had his hand on my leg. I decided to play along and see where this was going. 

Number one: I was amazed at his tolerance for alcohol. I could detect subtle changes in his attitude and behavior, but he was walking and talking like a sober person. How much can this kid drink?

Number two: he seemed to be playing the role of hustlers I'd known in the past; stringing me along just to get me to buy drinks for them. 

That night, I decided to find out if he was a prick-tease, or in the closet. I've had a few boys who vigorously defended their 'straightness', but eventually succumbed to their natural instincts and gave my cock a spirited workout.

Tonight, I would definitely find out which type of boy Johnny was.

The more he drank the worse he shot pool. He was getting sloppy, missing easy shots. When he lost his latest game, I noticed he didn't pay the winner.

"Johnny," I said when returned to the booth. "Did you forget something?"

His eyes were watery, with a look of someone who wasn't quite aware of his surroundings.

"Whaddya mean?" he asked.

"You didn't pay the guy who beat you...are you welching on your bet?" I asked him.

It was like I'd slapped him across his face. His eyes opened wide. 

"Oh my God--no, I forgot!" he said and he hurriedly scrambled to his wobbly legs and went and paid his five-dollars to the victor.

When he returned to the booth he proudly proclaimed: "A man is only as good as his word--that's what my dad taught me, and a bet is like any other promise or commitment!" 

I smiled and commended his attitude. It was then I decided it was time to shoot a game with him, except, I needed to beat the guy who Johnny lost to. As luck would have it, the guy was a friend of mine. 

Actually, I knew probably half the guys in the bar. This is my favorite place to find hook-ups. Boys new to town seemed to gravitate to 'Rods.'

"Billy, can you do me a favor?" I asked my opponent.

"Sure Jerry, whatever you want!" replied my friend.

"Will you let me win? See that boy over there?" I asked, pointing at Johnny.

"Who, that little homophobic, cocky bastard?" he asked.

I laughed and said, "Yes, that's the one...I think he protests his 'straightness' a little too vigorously...I want to call him on it!"

Billy smiled and replied, "You may be right--the more he drinks, the more he shakes his little ass in our faces--I'd love it if you could give him a reality-check."

Johnny had a problem racking the balls. The alcohol definitely affected his motor skills. When he finally finished, I stood close to him.

"Johnny, instead of five-dollars, why don't we make this game more interesting?" I asked.

I saw a brief flash of awareness in his eyes. 

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

I was quick to reply. "If you win, I'll give you one week of rent absolutely free of charge--that's worth $220!"

He narrowed his eyes and asked, "And if you win?"

I was bigger and stronger than him, plus he was drunk, it was now or never.

"You'll give me a handjob every night for a week!" I said, and moved out of his range. He didn't give me the outraged, homophobic response I was expecting. 

Instead, he smiled, shook his head then said, "You guys are all the same...yeah, okay--I'm gonna kick your ass anyway--why not?"

In his condition, he had trouble standing and maintaining his balance, much less making good shots. I let him hang around in the game for awhile until, after I'd deliberately missed a shot and he said, "My grandmother could have made that one!" It was time to end the game and take him back to his room. 

I briefly thought: Maybe I can even get him to blow me!

He watched in wide-eyed amazement as I made four straight shots then pointed the pool cue at the corner pocket and said, "Eight-ball--right there!"

True to form, after I'd won, he didn't acknowledge or congratulate me, he said, "You were lucky!"

I couldn't wait to get him back to the motel and bring his ego down a notch.

"Can we have one more drinky?" he asked with a sly smile on his pretty face.

I bought him another JD & coke, and watched as he gulped it down in three swallows.

Good Lord, I thought, this kid's tolerance for booze is beyond belief!

I had to take the room key from him to open the door. I flipped-on the light, and sat on the edge of the queen-size bed. 

He complained, "It's too bright!" and flipped the switch off. In the darkness, I felt him sit next to me on the bed.

It surprised me when I felt his hands working my belt and zipper. I thought I'd have to cajole him into paying-off on our bet.

"I'm only doing this because I honor my debts!" he said sharply.

I smiled in the darkness and thought, Uh-huh--sure! But I said out loud, "I know."

My pants were open, and he tugged at the waistbands of the pants and boxers. I lifted my hips to allow him to lower my clothing to my knees. 

He surprised me by caressing my thighs. My cock was already hard, and his soft touches increased my desire.

When he finally took my cock in his hand, and slowly began stroking it, almost in a whisper, he asked, "Is this okay, or do you want me to squeeze it harder?"

I smiled and said, "A little more pressure...that's it--go slow--I'll let you know when to speed-up...oh yeah, that feels great!"

Then he did something that really surprised me: Without me saying a word, his other hand cupped my scrotum and gently rolled my balls with his fingers.

His hands were wonderful--it quickly became obvious to me he'd done this before, and probably with more than one man. 

I knew I wouldn't last long. My pent-up lust was ready to burst. I began stroking the back of his neck and hair. 

After a few minutes I told him, "Faster..." and his hand began working piston-like on my cock.

When I felt the churning in my balls, I decided to take a calculated risk. I gently applied pressure to the back of his head and guided him to my crotch. His face was about six-inches from my cock when he jerked upright.

"NO WAY, DUDE!" he shouted. "I'M NOT A FAGGOT--I'll do this but that's all!"

"Okay—okay," I said, "...calm down--don't get excited."

His hand moved faster and harder on my throbbing prick. Not only was Johnny quite skillful at stroking a man's cock, he seemed to be 'into it' as well. His breathing was ragged and irregular. 

I lightly brushed his crotch with the palm of my hand--Oh yes, he's into it all right--his little dick was trying to burst out of his jeans.

This boy is definitely a closet-queen, I thought to myself as his soft, warm hand brought me to the brink of orgasm. 

I cried out when cum rushed from my balls and up thru my cock. The bed shook as I jerked and wildly gyrated. 

Johnny was a natural. I decided I'd introduce him to my friend Tommy, but I'd wait until the following week--I wanted to feel Johnny's hand on my cock every night until then.

I used my hand and scooped-up as much cum as I could. I smeared it onto Johnny's face. He seemed oblivious to my actions. 

I paid special attention to his upper lip just below his nostrils. I wanted him to smell dried cum on his face the first thing when he woke up the next morning.

When Johnny came to the front desk the next day at 5pm, I gave him six drink tickets for the lounge. He was disappointed we weren't going to 'Rods.' 

"Really?" he exclaimed, "...but the lounge is so boring--I want to shoot pool--I made good money there last night!"

I figured he ended up slightly ahead, but not by much.

"Johnny, I have some paperwork that has to get done today," I explained, "...why don't you go to the lounge and use these tickets...I'll join you there when I'm done and maybe we'll go shoot some pool."

"Oh...okay," he pouted and walked dejectedly to the lounge.

I don't think I mentioned this earlier, but I own the motel and bar and restaurant. That's why I could give him drink tickets. 

I'm not a cheap or frugal man, but it was clear to me that going to 'Rods' and supporting Johnny's drinking habit would cost a small fortune over the next week, and if all I was going to get out of it were handjobs, well frankly, it wasn't worth it. If he drank here, I could write-off his JD to spillage or theft. 

Two-hours later I joined him in the lounge. I raised my eyebrows when he said he was out of drink tickets. He seemed lucid and his eyes were still clear so I told my bartender to give him another JD.




Dangerous Games Ch. 01



I felt more pity than disgust for him. I asked myself: What is this kid doing? Is he trying to kill himself with booze? He's way too young to be feeling this much pain.

"You know..." Johnny said in a hushed tone, "...two guys have already tried to hit on me--it gives me the creeps--what kind of place is this?"

"Out of town businessmen stay here," I explained. "Some of them tend to lose their inhibitions when they're away from their wives."

He was getting near the bottom of his drink and I wanted to make this an early night. I decided it was time to remind him of our bet.

"It's been a long day," I said, "why don't we go to your room when you finish your drink?"

By the expression on his face, I knew he'd forgotten all about our wager.

"Why would you come to my room with me?" he asked suspiciously.

"We made a bet on a pool game last night and you lost," I replied.

I saw the wheels turning in his head. "I think I would remember if I made a bet with you..." Then he added: "I always pay my debts, but you and I didn't shoot pool last night!"

I've known a couple guys like Johnny who suffer black-outs when they've had too much to drink. It's actually incredible when you think of it--a person drinks-and-drinks and continues to function as though they were sober, but have absolutely no memory of their actions after a certain quantity of alcohol.

Most people pass-out when they've had too much to drink. The unfortunate ones only suffer black-outs and continue to act as though they were fine. To the average person, these people may appear slightly drunk, but you'd never know they are basically sleep-walking, and would not remember what they said or their actions from the night before.

The people I've known who suffered black-outs were so scared of their behavior, they either cut back on their alcohol consumption, or quit all-together. 

Apparently the loss of memory doesn't bother Johnny. In fact, it seems as though it is precisely the condition he desires.

I heard the rattle of ice and turned and saw him drain the last drop from his drink. Then I saw his eyes. They were watery, and he had the same far-off look as last night.

It was almost frightening when I realized he'd just entered his 'black-out zone.'

He turned to me and smiled.

"How about another drinky?" he asked in a rather high-pitched voice.

"Don't you think you've had enough? I'll help you back to your room," I said with all due concern.

"Noooo..." he whined. "It's too early...one more drinky--pleeezzzzzzz."

Then he pointed to the cribbage board on the back bar and said, "If I beat you at cribbage, you'll buy me another drinky, okay?"

I was honest with him. "I don't think you'll beat me at cribbage, it's one of my favorite games."

His face went from angelic to a twisted snarl.

"You're not gonna beat me, old man--the only better cribbage player than me is my dad!"

I had the bartender make him another drink. I decided to lose the first game then make the same wager with him as the previous night. 

It worked like a charm. I beat him easily the second game; the liquor made him careless and sloppy.

On our way to his room, I took his hand and placed it on my bulging crotch. He didn't object or remove his hand, instead, when I moved his hand back-and-forth over my shaft then suddenly pulled my hand from his, he continued stroking and squeezing it on his own.

Inside his room, I flipped-on the light, opened my slacks and pushed them and my boxers to my knees. I sat on the bed and watched his reaction. He stared hard at my erection thru his watery eyes. I leaned back on my elbows and waited for him.

He kept staring at my hard cock then abruptly turned-off the light and sat next to me on the bed. His hands went to work on me and I lay back and enjoyed his expertise.

My original plan was to keep Johnny around for a week or so before I contacted Tommy, but I'd grown tired of having to play silly mind games with the boy. Besides, his drinking would send my bar costs thru the roof. I would have a talk with Tommy the next day.

Tommy, Ernie and I have been close friends for over thirty-years. We're all in our early fifties, and we're all gay.

Over the years we've perfected a system that works well for us--I'd find a sexually confused boy and Tommy would groom him into being an obedient cock-slut. When Tommy grew tired of the boy, he'd conveniently 'lose' him to Ernie by shooting pool, or playing golf.

Ernie had a totally different training method than Tommy. While Tommy was kind and gentle and understanding, Ernie used threats and punishment to ensure abject obedience.

The biggest difference was Ernie would share his boy with me, and others. Tommy rarely allowed his boy to pleasure other men. Naturally, I preferred Ernie's method.

In fact, the second bedroom in his apartment is mine. I would stay there most nights when Ernie is in town. Currently, he and his boy, Percy, are on vacation in Thailand and won't be back for another week leaving me to settle for handjobs from Johnny.

It is a good life. Every night, Ernie takes Percy to his bedroom, and while Percy satisfies his man, I wait patiently until they are done then Ernie sends Percy to my bedroom to perform whatever sex acts I want him to do that evening. It is a sweet arrangement.

Getting handjobs from Johnny is a far cry from using Percy's well-trained mouth, and deliciously tight pussy. Oh well, at least I'm getting my rocks off.

Yes, I'll arrange for Tommy to meet Johnny tomorrow night, I told myself. The sooner Tommy trains the boy, the sooner I'll get to use the smug and arrogant boy's mouth and pussy.

Johnny's hand moved faster on my cock. I groaned in the darkness. Damn he gives a great handjob! 

When I imagined his pretty lips wrapped around my prick I blew an especially heavy load.

TOMMY'S STORY

I could always count on Jerry. He is a loyal friend. When he called and described Johnny to me the timing couldn't have been better. It had been several months since I'd had a boy in my life, and I was getting restless and irritable.

Sure, I can always find someone to suck and fuck for a night, but I preferred the closeness and intimacy of having a boy for a longer period of time.

Jerry filled me in on the basics. Johnny sounded like the typical closeted boy, too ashamed to admit his true sexuality, and sadly, addicted to getting high on liquor to escape the demons in his head.

A few years earlier, Jerry set me up with a similar type boy. I will use the same strategy with Johnny that worked well with the other boy. 

Some of you may disapprove of the method I use with Johnny, but some boys are so inhibited, and deathly afraid of revealing their true natures, they require extraordinary measures to help them achieve independence of thought, which is necessary for them to arrive at their goal--freedom from inhibitions, which in turn allows them to fully accept their sexual desire for men, with the results being happiness and a peace of mind they have never known.

Those may sound like lofty and meaningless words and phrases, but trust me, in all my years of helping boys achieve their potential, all of them--every single one--have been eternally grateful that I awakened them from their sexual slumber.

Jerry had moved Johnny into 'The Playroom' at the motel earlier that day. He told the boy an arriving couple who came every year always wanted his room. The boy had complied without protest.

I made sure to arrive at 'Rods' a few minutes before Jerry and Johnny. I took the liberty of ordering three drinks then found a cozy booth near the pool tables.

I wanted to observe the boy going from dead-sober to his 'black-out' phase. I needed to gather the clues, facts and quirks of his personality. I had to make sure I was taking the right approach with him.

Sex with him the first night was not my intention, no, it was 'behavioral science', but from Jerry's description of the boy, I was fairly certain I would be feeling his hand wrapped around my prick later that night anyway.

Two-minutes later I saw Jerry enter, followed by one of the prettiest boys I'd ever seen. A smile unconsciously formed on my face as they approached me. I silently saluted Jerry for his exquisite taste in boys.

"This is my friend, Tommy," Jerry said to the boy; he turned to me and added; "...this is Johnny."

The boy leaned over and shook my hand and said, "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is definitely all mine," I beamed and watched as Johnny averted his eyes from mine while his face became beet-red from my gushing words.

Good, I thought to myself. He has low self-esteem--he doesn't know how to accept compliments or praise--it makes it much easier to break down a boy's barriers. The cockiness and arrogance Jerry told me about are defense mechanisms hiding his insecurities.

Jerry had the boy slide into the semi-circular booth between us. I was close enough to Johnny to smell his freshness; his boyish odor. My prick twitched and I smiled again. 

This may sound strange, but I'm not physically attracted to all boys, so it is a great relief when I feel lust and desire for the boy I'm about to train. In fact, gazing at his pretty face, I was eager to have him kneeling between my legs, bobbing his head back-and-forth over my hard cock.

We made small talk, at least I did. It was difficult to coax more than one word answers from him. He was very shy, but I noticed his reticence fading with every gulp of whiskey. 

He definitely used alcohol as a crutch, which played right into my plans. Over the next few days, I would slowly wean him off booze. I would force him to confront his inhibitions face-to-face. He wouldn't like it, but this was the 'tough-love' strategy I always employed with great success.

Once he downed his third drink, he announced he wanted another drink, and that he wanted to shoot pool. His shyness disappeared, the cocky attitude emerged.

I gave him a twenty-dollar bill and told him to bring us another round.

"Awwww..." he pouted. "Can't you or Jerry get the drinks?"

I calmly said to him: "Since I'm buying the drinks, you will contribute by going to get them...you don't get a 'free-ride' with me."

He blushed at my abruptness. "Oh--sorry..." he said as he took the money from my hand and walked to the bar.

Jerry chuckled and said, "You haven't lost your touch--that was the first time I heard him apologize for anything!"

"He's a good boy at heart" I said, "...the alcohol gives him false confidence...it appears when he is sober, he is respectful, and quite passive...we're very lucky..."

"How so?" asked Jerry.

"He's passive to the point of being submissive--I think he'll make an excellent bottom," I said as the boy reappeared with our drinks.

I smiled at Johnny and said, "Thank you--now you may go play pool."

A blush of confusion covered his pretty face. It was obvious he was not accustomed to being spoken to in that manner.

Just as Jerry had told me, the boy was a pretty good pool player from three-to-six drinks. I rated him as a B+...good enough to beat most players, but he'd lose to the sharks. I wouldn't have a problem beating him when I needed.

He held the table for six-straight games, all the while guzzling down whiskey. When he emptied a drink, I'd taught him to come to me and ask, "May I have another drink, please?"

He had drained his seventh drink when someone finally beat him. He gingerly came back to the booth and sat down; I could see his eyes beginning to water over. I gave him more money and told him to get us two more. I think he was impressed I was matching him drink-for-drink. 

He was oblivious to the fact Jerry had left much earlier.

I watched him walk. He had the saunter of a man on a mission, but he was clearly unsteady on his feet. It was an amazing sight--a boy that sloshed, still acting as though he was in total control.

I had him sit close to me, and he readily obeyed. I saw the far-off look in his eyes that Jerry had described, and knew it was time to get personal. He was now receptive to my questions. Like many shy, introverted boys, the liquor loosened his tongue and now he couldn't shut-up.

There's an old saying 'A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts'--much of the time I found it to be true, and I listened to him carefully, separating what I believed to be fact from fiction.

I began touching his arms and legs; I stroked his neck and back. If he was aware of my hands, he didn't say anything. 

After his eighth drink, I placed his hand on my crotch and made sure he felt my semi-erection.

"It's time we go to your room and you make good on our bet," I whispered in his ear. We hadn't played pool or had a wager, but I had a suspicion it wouldn't matter.

"What? Huh? Oh--yeah...I always pay my debts," he said thru glazed eyes, slightly slurring his words.

I helped him out of the booth, and before we left I tipped Eddie the bartender an extra twenty-dollars. Eddie has the skill of making drinks in front of a customer without actually pouring liquor in the glass. Instead of drinking vodkas all night, I had actually consumed eight soda waters with lime.

Once outside, I placed my arm around Johnny's waist to keep him from falling. 

I admit to taking liberties with the boy during our short walk; stroking his back and neck; caressing and fondling his buttocks; and running my hand beneath his untucked polo shirt, squeezing his breasts and nipples. 

He never pushed me away, or even verbally protested. In fact, his physical response was quite heartening...his nipples became hard points, and when we were in the shadows of the walkway to his room, I stopped, pulled him to me and boldly ran my hand between his legs, up-and-down his crotch. His tiny dick was stiff as steel, and he began to gasp and whimper. 

'The Playroom' where Johnny was now staying served many useful purposes. It was equipped with sophisticated audio/visual devices and many mirrors. 

Sometimes couples wanted tapes made of their lovemaking; sometimes businessmen wanted a video and audio recording of sensitive business transactions. Other times, well, I'll just say Jerry recorded secret trysts for their 'entertainment' value or more nefarious purposes.

When Johnny was able to finally open the door, I turned on the lights and sat on the bed. Just as Jerry said he would, the boy turned the lights off. He then joined me on the bed.

Typical for a boy like Johnny, in the recess of his mind he believed he was about to perform a dirty and forbidden act, and he needed darkness to shield his actions.

I gently stroked his back, found his head then leaned in and kissed him on the lips. He reacted like he'd been struck by lightning.

"NO—NO—NO!!" he cried out and pushed me away. "I'M NOT QUEER—I'M NOT QUEER!!"

He sounded like a scared little boy. His bleats and pleas were pathetic; my heart went out to him.

He had been so thoroughly brainwashed about the 'evils' of homosexuality, I knew then and there I was justified in using my 'tough-love' approach to properly train him.

"Shhhhhhhhh..." I whispered in his ear. "Calm down...relax...we're not going to do anything you don't want to do..."

And when he slumped against me, and his breathing returned to normal, I said: "But I did win a bet--are you going to welch on our bet?"

"No--no...my father taught me to always pay my debts..." he replied.

His hands opened my belt and unfastened my slacks. I lifted my hips to allow him to pull down my slacks and boxers. A warm hand gripped my aching hard-on; another hand cradled my balls.

There was no doubt in my mind the boy had performed this act with other men, and he was probably never sober with any of them. It is a shame how many boys need drugs or alcohol to overcome a crippling inhibition.

He applied the pressure I liked, but he was in a hurry.

"Slow down," I said softly. He obeyed me without question.

I would have loved to have been naked with him; to caress his soft, warm flesh; to kiss his lips; nip at his ears; but it was too soon. 

It was time to gather information. It was obvious he'd done this before, and now I wanted him to tell me his story.

"Is this the first time you've stroked a hard penis with your hand?" I asked him softly.

I heard his voice catch in his throat. "Well, uh..."

"Johnny, tell me the truth--what does your father say to you about lying to your elders?" I said softly yet firm.

"It--it's wrong--I have to tell the truth..." his voice sounded distant, like he was somewhere far away.

"How many men have you masturbated? How many hard penises have you held and stroked and caressed?" I asked in a whisper. In this situation, too loud of a voice can spook the boy back into denial.

"I--I don't know..." he replied.

"Johnny, don't lie to me--you must tell me the truth--you must obey your father," I said to him knowing the reference to his dad would loosen his tongue.

"I'm sorry--I think there were five of them..." he whispered.

"Five what, Johnny? You must speak in complete sentences--I'm not a mind reader," I gently scolded him.

"F-Five men...I've masturbated five men--"

"You've held five hard penises in your hand and stroked them until they came--until they ejaculated...is this correct? And give me a complete answer!"

"Y-Yes--I have masturbated five men until they shot their cum on my hands..."

"You love the feel of a hard penis in your hand, don't you?"

"I-I...oh God, yes, I do love the feel of hard penises...they're so hard yet the skin is so soft and smooth and warm..."

"You love to give men pleasure, don't you? It makes you happy when you can get them to cum, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it's exciting to hear men moan...I love it when they shake and move their hips just by using my hands."

"Have you ever kissed a hard penis? Have you tasted men's cum?"

"No-nooooo..."

"Why not? Why haven't you taken a hard penis in your mouth?"

There was silence then he said, "Well, it's because...uh, because no one ever asked me to..."

My goodness! That is a telling answer! He would have actively taken the next step if only someone had suggested it?

"If someone had asked you, or told you, you would have sucked their hard penis, wouldn't you?"

"Y-Yes, I guess so...if they'd told me to--I would have sucked their hard penises--"

"And make them cum in your mouth!"

"Yes, and make them cum in my mouth."

"And you would have swallowed their cum!"

"If they had told me to--yes, I would have swallowed their cum!"

"Good boy, Johnny...it's good to tell the truth--you feel better for telling the truth, don't you?"

"Yes...I should always tell the truth--it makes me feel good!"

"How did you meet these men, Johnny, where did you meet them?"

"There's a park in my home town...late at night men go there to meet other men--'Loring Park'."

"Did you choose the men, or did they choose you?"

"They chose me...they'd walk up to me and say things like 'Hey, you're cute--want to sit in my car with me?' or 'Do you want to go home with me?'

"How many men did you go home with?"

"Just one--he lived nearby--we walked to his place."

"Tell me everything that happened that night--don't leave out a thing, okay?"

"Okay...we went inside his apartment and sat on the couch...somehow we decided to play strip poker...during the game he kept passing me a joint...afterwards, when I was naked and he still had his shorts on, he led me to the bathroom...he had some sort of cream...he dipped his finger in the cream and made me spread my legs wide...I felt his finger on my hole--pushing against my hole until it went inside me...the cream was cold--it felt cold inside my hole...he made me push down his shorts and put cream on his hard penis...he took me to his bed and had me get on my hands and knees on the far end of the bed...he stood behind me--he put his penis against my hole and pushed it into me...it was too big--I didn't think it would fit...I told him I couldn't do it--he got mad and called me a cock-teaser--I felt bad for not going thru with it...we sat on the couch; he had a towel over his hard penis...I stroked him until he came in the towel."




Dangerous Games Ch. 01



"If he had told you to suck his cock, you would have done it right? You would have sucked his cock and swallowed his cum?"

"Yes...I would have sucked him off and swallowed it all--if he had asked me to."

A loud moan escaped his lips as Johnny's excitement became evident. I smiled in the darkness: this boy loved pleasing men...he would be providing me with many-many orgasms for months to come (so to speak).

I reached over and squeezed his erection thru the jeans. He moaned and didn't stop me. I slowly moved my hand up-and-down his small shaft.

"How many times a day do you masturbate?" I asked him.

"Oh, uh...once in the morning and just before I go to bed at night," he whispered.

"Tell me the truth, Johnny--how many times do you masturbate every day?"

"I ah, don't really know...maybe five-six times a day...when I get a chance to do it."

"Do you look at porn when you play with yourself?"

"I—uh, yes...I have porn on my computer."

"Is it gay porn, Johnny? Do you like to look at pictures of men having sex with other men?"

"No-no-no...I couldn't have that on my computer--somebody might find out..."

"What do you look at? What gets you excited, Johnny?"

"No, uh, I can't say--it isn't right!"

"You must tell me the truth, Johnny...I will never say a word to anyone about what you tell me--what do you look at when you masturbate--what do you think about?"

This was going to be the most difficult thing for him to admit. I stroked his tiny cock harder and faster. He did the same for me.

"Sometimes I stare at pictures of women on their knees with hard penises in their mouths...I, uh..."

"Yes, you what? What are you thinking when you look at those pictures?"

"I, uh--I imagine it's me on my knees doing those things for men..."

"You mean you picture yourself kneeling before a man, giving him pleasure with your lips and tongue, sucking his cock--is that correct?"

He hesitated then the words spilled out of him.

"YES--I fantasize it's me sucking his cock--stroking his shaft--licking his flesh--fondling balls--trying to make him cum in my mouth!"

"Good boy, Johnny... and what else do you fantasize about? You know you can trust me--you can always tell me the truth!"

"I look at pictures of women bending over for men standing behind them..."

"You imagine yourself bending over for men, don't you? You think about the time the man had you on the bed--had the head of his cock inside you...you regret not letting him fuck you, don't you? You want to know what it's like to have a hard cock in your pussy--you want to feel a man shoot his cum inside your pussy, don't you Johnny"?

"Oh God--I'm going to hell--yes, I want to have a man fuck me--yes, I want to get on my knees and suck cock...oh God--oh God..."

"Do it for me now, Johnny--get on your knees and take my cock in your mouth--you're going to love it, Johnny--you were born to give men pleasure!"

"Oh God, I can't—I just can't do it--my father will kill me!"

"He'll never find out, Johnny, I won't say a word to him—I promise!"

"Nooooo--he'll know--he'll find out and kill me! I'm sorry--I can't do it!"

I was getting close. I concentrated on his talented hand--I would use his mouth tomorrow night.

Both of our hands moved up-and-down in rhythm. I felt the churning in my balls; I squeezed his prick and stroked it faster. We both cried out at the same time. The bed bounced as our bodies shook with pleasure. 

His wonderful hand forced four-five strong loads of cum from my balls. I felt the wetness on the front of his jeans as he came in his pants. I forced my mouth on his and he didn't resist as I kissed him hard. He even opened his lips and allowed my tongue inside.

I hugged him close to me while we waited for our shaking bodies to return to normal. I gave his cheek one final kiss, fixed my clothes and left him sitting on the edge of the bed in total darkness.

I had given him something to think about--I was sure he'd fantasize about my cock and masturbate before he could fall asleep.

He may not remember opening up to me, but I now had enough ammunition to jar his memory, make him wonder how I knew all these personal things about him. Plus, our entire conversation had been tape-recorded. He wouldn't be able to deny what he'd told me.

I made arrangements with four of my tenets to meet me at 'Rods' at 5:30. Oh, by-the-way, I own an 'adults-only' apartment complex, and everyone who lives there is either gay or lesbian, but more on that later...

I'd given my friends $200 to spend with just one caveat: they'd each shoot pool twice with Johnny, and intentionally lose to him.

Johnny came into the bar five-minutes early and found me sitting in 'our' booth. I had a drink waiting for him.

"I had fun last night, did you?" I asked him. I searched his eyes for any sign of understanding, or comprehension of his actions the previous evening, but he appeared clueless.

"Ah, yeah, I had fun too," he answered. I imagined that was his standard reply when asked about something he couldn't remember.

We talked and laughed, and he seemed more comfortable with me than the day before.

After his third drink, he surprised me by asking if he could play pool. I smiled to myself that his cocky demeanor hadn't reared its ugly head thus far.

I pointed at the table where my friends were playing, and said, "I think you can beat those guys--I've been watching and they're not very good."

He placed his quarter on their table then went and bought us two more drinks.

If everything went according to plan, Johnny would 'win' eight-straight games before I played him. I was trying to time it for him to be on his seventh drink when he and I played.

After his fifth drink, and he'd won five games-in-a-row, I moved our drinks to the tall table near where he was playing. Between shots, he would stand close to me gulping his drink.

His cocky and annoying attitude came to the surface. He made disparaging comments after each missed shot by his opponents. My friends took it all in stride. They would get their satisfaction when they saw Johnny under my control.

I began stroking his back, and when my hand dipped lower and caressed his buttocks his body jerked forward to escape the personal touching.

"What's wrong, sweetie, you enjoyed it last night?" I asked softly. I loved watching his face turn a deep red.

I was expecting him to make a scene, but all he said was "I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Let me refresh your memory," I said, "...you lost a bet to me—we went to your motel room and you opened my pants—took out my cock—and masturbated me until I came--in fact, I played with your prick and you shot a nice load in your jeans--when you woke-up this morning, you had quite a mess in your briefs, didn't you?"

He suddenly had the look of a deer caught in headlights. His face turned an ashen gray.

"Johnny, you're not fooling me...as-a-matter-of-fact, you told me all about your late-night visits to Loring Park, and what you did for the men you met there...sweetie, you're a talented boy, you give one helluva a handjob--that's nothing to be ashamed about...Johnny, don't worry, I will never tell your father, okay?"

The look of sheer, unmitigated fear and panic that spread across his pretty face almost made me feel sorry for him, but I had to concentrate on the plan at hand.

I repeated, "I will never tell your dad what kind of boy you are, okay?"

"I'm not ANY kind of boy!" he said sharply to me.

I chuckled and said, "We'll see..." I'd successfully planted seeds of doubt in his head. He knew the only way I could know about Loring Park was that he had to have told me. 

He returned to his game and between shots would take a quick gulp from his drink then move away from me.

I bought him another drink before it was my turn to play him. His skills were quickly deteriorating, and I actually had to concentrate hard just to lose to him.

When he slammed the eight-ball into the corner pocket to beat me, he triumphantly said loudly, "Who's my next victim?"

I paid him five-dollars then said, "Five bucks is nothing! Why don't we make this interesting?"

"Whaddya wanna do?" he said, slightly slurring the words.

He and I were alone, my friends had moved to another section of the bar. As I stared into the blankness of his watery eyes, I decided it was time to make my move.

"How much money do you have in your wallet?" I asked him.

He sputtered, "Well, uh, I..."

"How much?" I asked again.

"F-Four hundred," he replied.

"Okay," I said. I pulled out my wallet, removed four hundred-dollar-bills and placed them on the table. His eyes grew wide.

"Well," I said, "show me the money!"

He hesitated then said meekly, "I can't--It's all I have left."

"What's wrong? I thought you were a gambler...you're not very good, are you?" I taunted him.

"I can beat you any time I want, old man!" he snarled then immediately pulled out his wallet and removed the last of his hundred dollar-bills. A five and a few singles were all that remained.

I decided to give him a few chances before I beat him. His game was sloppy now, and I knew he didn't have a prayer of winning.

When it was his turn, he made three-balls-in-a-row then tried a difficult bank-shot. He missed it badly, hitting it too hard, and the cue ball bounced-off two cushions before solidly striking the eight-ball sending it into a side pocket. 

He scratched on the eight-ball--he lost the game. He watched me take the money and stuff it into my pocket. The look of horror on his face was priceless.

"It's not fair--you didn't win--I scratched on the eight--it's not fair!" he whined.

I responded, "You know the rules of the game--I won fair-and-square!"

He was silent for several seconds then he provided me with the perfect opening by saying, "I'm broke--what do I do now?"

I placed my arm around his shoulders, he didn't flinch or move away from me.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," I said with all the sincerity I could muster, "we'll play one more game...if you win, I'll not only give you back your four-hundred, but I'll pay you an additional five-hundred dollars! That's nine-hundred dollars! How does that sound to you?"

In his condition, I could have said I'd give him a million-dollars--it wouldn't have made a difference.

His eyes opened wide and flashed a glimmer of hope. Then just as suddenly, he dejectedly asked me, "what if I lose? I don't have any money to pay you?"

I gave him my friendliest smile and softly said, "You will provide me with sex.

That beautiful red flush covered his face again.

"I'm not queer--I can't do that!" he said matter-of-factly with no sign of anger.

"Sweetie, I don't care if you're queer or not queer, you gave me a wonderful handjob last night and now I want to feel those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my prick!" I said.

"You're lying," he said defiantly. "I would never do a thing like that!"

"You told me all about yourself, too...how else would I know about 'Loring Park' and the handjobs you gave to different men? How else would I know you allowed a strange man to grease-up your asshole while you knelt on all-fours on his bed waiting for him to fuck you?"

"How do you know about all that?" he asked in a stunned whisper. An even deeper shade of red appeared on his face. I saw a couple teardrops roll down his cheek. "I had to do some things for men...I was forced to."

This was no time to quibble with him. We were at a critical juncture in my plan and I couldn't tolerate needless distractions.

"Johnny," I said, holding his shoulders and forcing him to look into my eyes. "Do you accept the wager?"

He held my stare and said, "Well, I guess I have to--I don't have any other choice!"

"Yes, you have choices, John...you can go back to your room, get a good night's sleep then call your father in the morning and ask him for money to get you home--you always have choices," I said emphasizing my last point.

His eyes grew wide then he angrily said, "Oh alright--I'll take the bet!"

"Since I'm risking nine-hundred dollars and won't get any money in return, there a couple more conditions you have to agree to," I said then calmly explained: "First, the light in the room stays on--I want to be able to see your pretty face...second, we're going to get naked--I want to feel your soft skin against me...and lastly, we're going to hug and kiss and you will sexually satisfy me until I say we're done."

There was that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look in his eyes again. I knew a fierce battle was taking place in his mind between guilt and shame versus his secret lust and desire for men.

I took his hand and forced it against my semi-erection. I heard him gasp, but he didn't pull away.

I whispered in his ear: "When you lose the bet, we're going to your room and you will suck my cock until you've swallowed every drop of cum I have in my balls!"

I boldly reached between us and cupped his crotch. His tiny dick was stiff as steel. He neither pushed my hand from him, nor pulled his hand from me.

"You're a very sweet boy," I said softly. "I like you a lot...I have a feeling you'll have fun tonight regardless if you win or lose the game...now go rack the balls and let's shoot some pool!"

I was overcome with a warm glow as I watched him submissively obey me. He never once objected to my added conditions to the wager. 

I smiled as I watched him bending over, racking the balls. He's a good boy at heart, I thought to myself. All he needs is guidance, and some sexual training, and he is going to make a wonderful bitch boy.

I made two stripes on the break and two more before I missed. His cocky arrogance was gone. Even in his inebriated condition, he knew this was the most important game of pool he'd played in his young life.

He studied the table, made two balls then missed. I intentionally missed and when he bent over to line up his next shot, I casually stood next to him, reached down and gently stroked his buttocks.

"Sweetie," I said softly, "...you have to decide what is important in your life--what do you want more? Win a pool game for money, or spend the night in bed satisfying a man who wants and desires you?"

I left him alone and when he missed the shot, I cupped his crotch, squeezed his hard dick and whispered to him, "Good boy." 

I surveyed the table and saw the balls were in favorable positions. I could easily run the table and end the game. I methodically went to work studying each shot, and deciding where to 'leave' the cue ball to make the next shot.

From time-to-time I looked at Johnny; his face and eyes gave away the hopeless desperation he was feeling. He knew he was going to lose and there was nothing he could do about it. 

When I rammed the eight-ball into the corner pocket, he stood motionless, staring at the cue ball inches from the pocket. I took the cue stick from his trembling hands and placed it in the rack.

"C'mon sweetie," I said, "...let's go to your room."

"C-Can we have another drinky first?" he asked in a small voice.

"No," I said firmly. "I want to see you naked...I want to feel your tongue on my cock!"

My crude words made him visibly shiver. The expression on his face told me he found the idea repugnant, but the bulge in his crotch told another story. 

Whether he knew it or not, this very moment in time was his last as an independent, free-spirited boy. Beginning tomorrow, he would always be someone's bitch boy--first mine--then probably Ernie's--and after that, who knows?

I made no pretense now. I led Johnny out of the bar with my hand firmly on his ass. I winked at my tenets who were still sitting at a table. They all raised their glasses in a salute to me.

Once outside, I pulled Johnny into the first darkened entryway and pulled him close to me. I held his head in my hands and kissed him hard on the lips.

"No-no-no..." he protested and tried to back away from me, but I was too strong for him.

"Never pull away from me--when I want to kiss—you will kiss--do you understand me, boy?"

I felt him shiver again. His voice was meek. "I—uh, yes Tommy."

"Yes what, boy?" 

"I—I w-won't pull away from you when you want to kiss me."

I patted his head and said, "Good boy."

His lips were soft and moist when I kissed him again. He kissed me back. God, I thought, I'm going to love training this boy! We began walking again. 

"Tell me again why you left Minnesota," I suddenly asked him. 

"I--uh, just wanted to move to warm weather...I was tired of the cold...my life was getting boring--I wanted something new..."

I didn't believe him, but I wasn't going to press the issue now. My dick was bursting at my zipper, desperate to be freed. We would have plenty of conversations and I would eventually get the truth out of him.

Once inside his room, I sat on the bed and removed my shoes and socks. Johnny just stood there looking at me.

"Get your clothes off, boy, it's time to pay your debt," I said with a slight smile.

"C-Can't we turn the lights off?" he asked.

"NO--you know what the bet was--STRIP!" I said forcefully.

I awoke before Johnny to make sure the tapes were queued properly when I showed them to the boy. I was curious what his reaction would be when he awoke and found him and I naked together in bed.

I played with the remote, arranging the tapes in the order I wanted to show them. I then lay back and watched the big screen television in the near corner of the room. 

I'd had the boy suck me off three times before I allowed him to sleep, and much to my pleasant surprise, he was quite good at it. Like the handjobs before, he had obviously pleasured men with his mouth, as well.

I wondered why he refused to acknowledge sucking cock, especially after admitting he had allowed a strange man to lube his asshole, and stick the head of his prick inside him. I would find out in due time.

I fast-forwarded the tape to a crucial scene and turned-up the volume. I was standing before a mirror, and Johnny was on his knees.

"OH YES, JOHNNY--SUCK MY COCK! YOU ARE A WONDERFUL COCKSUCKER...RUB MY BALLS, BABY--YES--THAT'S IT! SUCK MY COCK FASTER, SWEETIE, I'M GOING TO CUM IN YOUR MOUTH--OH GOD, YES—YES—YES--HERE IT COMES, BABY--SWALLOW IT ALL, SWEETIE--THAT'S IT--KEEP SWALLOWING, JOHNNY--KEEP SWALLOWING!!"

Johnny jerked upright next to me. Hair disheveled; eyes bugged-open wide. He looked at the screen then to me.

"WHAT THE HELL? GET OUT OF MY BED! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT--GET OUT!!"

"Quiet, boy," I said. "Watch the television..."

I re-wound the tape and played the scene again. I studied his face. Pure shock and horror; he was purple with anger and rage. 

"THIS IS WRONG!" he shouted. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?"

"Sweetie, you didn't do anything you didn't want to do...in fact, you loved every minute of it!"

"NO WAY--I WOULD NEVER LIKE IT!!"

I fast-forwarded the tape again. This time, I was lying on the bed and Johnny was kneeling between my wide-split legs. Only my cock and legs, and his entire body were visible in the scene. 

His head was busy bobbing up-and-down my cock while he stroked the shaft and massaged my balls. Loud, slurping noises came from his mouth.

Next to me, Johnny uttered an anguished cry of "No-no-no--please no...please turn it off..."

He was hiding his face with his hands. He couldn't bear to watch.

"Johnny, watch the tv--WATCH THE TELEVISION, BOY!" I ordered.

When he lowered his hands I saw tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. He dully stared at the images on the screen.

My voice could be heard in the background.

"Johnny, you are one sweet cocksucker...you love it too--I can see your hard, little dick standing straight-out...do you want to cum for me, sweetie? Say the words and I'll let you cum, baby--tell me what I want to hear, Johnny!"




Dangerous Games Ch. 01



I had coached him earlier what I wanted him to say. This would be a major obedience test for him. 

"Yes, d-darling, I want to cum for you--please let me cum!"

His sweet words of submission made my hard-on throb. "Do you love my hard cock, sweetie? Do you love sucking my cock?"

"Oh God, Tommy--I mean, yes, darling--yes, I love sucking your hard cock!"

"Good boy, Johnny...you may now play with yourself, baby, but keep stroking and sucking my cock while you do it, okay?"

"Yes, darling, yes...thank you, darling!"

And on the screen, Johnny's left hand flew to his small dick and furiously stroked it while his head and hand moved faster and harder on my cock. It was quite the sight to see, and hear. 

Anyone watching this tape would see a boy who was totally into cocksucking and frantically masturbating at the same time. I was forcing Johnny to confront his sexuality head-on...he could no longer use his black-outs as a retreat from reality.

"Sweetie, look how much fun you're having..." I said to the trembling boy beside me. "Watch closely, baby--we're both going to have a big finish!"

And just then you could hear Johnny's muffled screams of ecstasy as his prick began spewing stream-after-stream of jizz into the air, falling in a pool on the bedspread. My own cries of joy soon followed.

Looking closely at his face, tiny rivers of semen escaped from the corners of his mouth; he couldn't swallow my cum fast enough to keep up with my heavy load. Within the week I'd have him swallowing every drop.

You couldn't hear my off-camera prompting; all you saw was Johnny raise his face and look up at me. With semen dripping from his cheeks and chin, he broke into a huge smile and said, "Yes, darling, I love the taste of your cum!"

I looked over at Johnny and enjoyed the expression on his face; eyes bugged wide, jaw dropped open; he appeared to be more surprised than shocked, even fascinated at what he saw on the screen. 

I turned-off the television and moved closer to the boy. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He tried to move away from me.

'Johnny, you remember rule one, don't you? Never pull away from me," I said calmly and kissed his cheek again.

"W-What--how did you do this?" he asked timidly.

"That's not important, sweetie...all you need to know is that I'm here for you...I am going to help you!" my voice was calm and reassuring.

"H-Help me with what?" his eyes were still wide-open; incredulous.

"You have problems I'm going to help you overcome," I said.

"I don't understand," he said softly.

"Well, Johnny, your immediate problem is you're broke--you have no money to pay rent, is that correct?"

A sudden flash of recognition lit up his eyes.

"I lost my money to you in a pool game last night, didn't I?" he asked.

"Yes, and now you have no place to go...if you're agreeable--and obedient, I may allow you to stay with me," I said. I reached under the bedspread and fondled my cock. This conversation was causing me to lose my erection, and I didn't want that to happen.

"But I start a job in a couple days--Jerry will give me credit for my room until I get paid, won't he?" he asked.

"Sweetie," I said with a smile. "Don't be naïve--that's not how the world works..."

"B-But I-I--"

"Sweetie, let's not waste any more time--I'm going to tell you how it's going to be..." I interrupted him. I placed my hand on his hairless chest and caressed his girly-soft flesh. His eyes stared at my hand, but he neither moved, nor said a word.

"You will live with me and first off, I'll help you with your drinking problem--sweetie, your drinking is out of control," I said; he tried to defend himself but I stopped him. I could tell he was embarrassed that I knew he had a problem.

"You will not start that job--don't worry about it, you will work for me around my apartment complex...and finally, I'm going to help you fulfill your potential," I said.

He furrowed his eyes and asked, "Potential for what? I don't understand."

"I'm going to open your eyes and awaken your senses...you have been living in the dark far too long...you are a very unhappy boy--I'm going to help you change that--I like you, and I want the best for you...my heart aches looking at how miserable you are!"

"I don't understand any of this...why would you do this for me? We only met a couple days ago..."

"I told you, I like you a lot--I want to help you--that's what I do in life!" I said; he shivered when I fondled his nipples into hardened points, but he didn't try to push my hand away.

Then I added: "I will do all this for you and the only thing you need to do is tell me you want to be my lover," I said, waiting to see the expression on his sweet face.

I wasn't disappointed—it was rather amusing. His face scrunched and contorted; eyes wide as saucers.

"How many times do I have to tell you guys that I'm not gay, I'm not a faggot!" he said forcefully.

I laughed and said, "Sweetie, you're naked in bed with a man and you just saw yourself on tv sucking my cock and enjoying it!"

"I didn't like it--you made me like it!" he fought back.

It is at this point I shut down any further arguments with my new boys. It is pointless, and a waste of time. What will be—will be...

"Johnny, it seems to me you have two choices: you ask your father, or your friend Mike, for money to move back home, or you ask me nicely to be my lover...now keep in mind I have these tapes of you sucking my cock--not once, but three times last night...if you make the wrong choice, I might get upset and do something you will not like at all--like send your father and your friend copies of the tapes...the decision is yours--what do you want to do?"

"That's not much of a choice..." he said dejectedly.

"It is what it is...we're wasting time here, I have things to do today...what do you want to do?" I asked, staring into his eyes.

"Well, I guess I have to be your lover," he said avoiding looking at me.

"You don't 'have' to be anything--you either 'want' to be my lover or don't want to be my lover--which one is it?" I asked. Getting the boy to actually say the words is part of the fun.

I stared hard at him and watched his confusion; he was shifting and squirming. My prick began to throb in my hand.

"I--I 'want' to be your lover," he said softly; defeated.

"I don't believe you..." I said, "...if that's the best you can do I'm not so sure I want you for my lover now...if you don't ask me nicely I think I'll send them those tapes out of spite!"

He became animated; frantic.

"NO--NO--PLEASE, I WANT TO BE YOUR LOVER...please let me be your lover!"

"I expect total obedience from my lovers—are you going to obey me?" I asked.

His face went white. "Y-yes...yes I'll obey you."

I ordered him to give me a kiss. His face went from white to red in two-seconds.

His lips were soft; yielding. I caressed his face and hair. I pinched his nipples and he groaned into my mouth.

I grabbed the edge of the bedspread, and in one motion, threw it on the other side of the bed leaving us naked and exposed. His eyes grew wide when he stared at my erection; I smiled when I saw he was hard, too.

I sat back against the wall and laced my hands behind my neck.

"I like to start every day with a good blowjob--sweetie, kneel between my legs and suck my cock!" I commanded him.

I felt him trembling beside me; a look of deep concern on his face; as far as I knew, this would be his first sexual experience with a man when he was sober. 

The churning in my balls told me it wouldn't take Johnny very long to make me cum. Getting a boy to submit his body and soul to you is the greatest aphrodisiac of all. 

When I heard his small voice say "Yes, darling" I almost shot my load before he even had my prick inside his mouth.

I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have found such a beautiful and sexy boy to serve my needs.

JOHNNY'S STORY

Sitting in Tommy's car on the drive to his apartment I couldn't help but think how funny and strange life could be.

He had inserted a disc and we were listening to a conversation he and I apparently had had a couple nights ago. I didn't remember it, but when I heard myself talk about meeting men at Loring Park a flood of images filled my mind--some good--some not.

I hadn't been to the park in a long time, not since the night my best friend, Mike, made me his bitch. 

It all started on one of my nights-off from the bar. Mike was at work and I was home in our apartment drinking. I only went out to bars when Mike and I were both off, and we'd go in search for women--at least he did...I went along to drink and shoot pool.

Anyway, a couple hours before I expected Mike home I decided to go to the park. He was unaware of my activities and I wanted to keep it that way. There was no way I could tell my best friend of twelve-years that I preferred men to women. No one knew, and I was determined no one would ever know--especially my asshole, homophobic father!

I drove to the park, found a parking place, went down to the path, and began my slow walk around the small pond. It always amazed me that the place seemed completely deserted then suddenly men just seemed to appear out of the darkness from nowhere.

"Hi, you want some company?" said a voice from behind me.

I hadn't seen him and his voice startled me and nearly made me jump out of my skin. To make a long story short, I followed him to his car, climbed inside with him, opened his jeans and gave him a handjob. At that time, I hadn't gone any further than using my hands.

I admit, I love the feel of a hard, manly cock in my hands. They're so stiff yet so warm and soft. I love stroking hard cocks and hearing the men moan and groan with pleasure.

Anyway, when I'd made him cum he offered to reciprocate (some men do—some don't), but I politely declined. I usually just went home, relived the memory, and gave myself a great orgasm.

So when I got home that night Mike was sitting in his chair having a drink.

"Hey," I said, "you're home early!"

He didn't answer me. He glared at me. He had a look on his face I'd never seen before. It was scary.

"I got home earlier...I saw you pull out of the lot and I followed you," he said.

My heart leapt to my throat! I couldn't breathe. OH MY GOD--HE FOLLOWED ME? OH SHIT!!

"When did you become a faggot?" he almost spit the words at me.

"Wha-Wha-What do you mean? I'm not a faggot!" I said in a panic.

"You know," he said, ignoring my response. "I've always wondered where you sometimes sneak-off to--well, I found out tonight!"

"Look, Mike, no, I mean--"

"SHUT UP FAGGOT! I SAW YOU! I saw you get in the guy's car...did you blow him? Did he fuck you?" his face was purple with rage. I'd never seen him so angry. "I should have known you're queer--you never bring women home!"

"That's not true--what about Bonnie and Linda and Theresa?" I pleaded with him.

He smirked at me. "Yeah, and they told me what a lousy lay you are...they said it was like you weren't even interested...you know what? I fucked all three of 'em!!"

"Mike, please, we're friends, can't we--"

"We're not friends anymore--you know how I feel about fags--I'm gonna call your dad and tell him--you're gonna be dead-meat when he finds out!"

"NO-NO, please don't tell him, Mike, please don't do that!" I begged him.

He drained his drink and continued glaring at me. Suddenly, his eyes went soft, his lips curled into a snarky smile.

"Heh-heh, you know, it's been awhile since I've gotten laid...maybe if you blow me I won't tell your dad."

My face went white. I couldn't believe my ears.

"No-no, I don't do that, I only use my hands," I said quickly without thinking.

He laughed at me. "You admit it, huh? You admit giving men handjobs, huh?

My face now flushed red; tears welled in my eyes.

"SAY IT!" he shouted. "Tell me you like to give men handjobs."

"Mike, please, we've been friends for--"

"SAY IT--SAY IT NOW!!" I saw the craziness in his eyes. I was afraid he'd beat me up.

I lowered my eyes and said, "I like to give men handjobs..."

He took a swig from the whisky bottle sitting on the table beside him.

"So you've never sucked cock?" he asked.

I vigorously shook my head. 

He chuckled then said: "Nice--your mouth is cherry--good, I'll teach you how I like it."

He stood from the chair and came at me. He was three-inches taller, and thirty-pounds heavier. I always knew if it came to a fight with him, he'd beat the shit out of me.

We were face-to-face. His whisky-breath almost made me sick.

He took the cell phone out of his pocket, punched in some numbers then showed me the phone. It was my parent's phone number--he was going to call my dad.

He sneered down at me. "Here's what's gonna happen, fagboy...if you don't get on your knees in three-seconds and take-out my cock, I'm telling your dad that you're queer!"

It was the lowest point of my entire life. My best friend of twelve-years was blackmailing me. Worse yet, I was going to have to do what he wanted. There was no way in the world I could let my father find out I like men.

I hesitated too long, Mike called the number.

I dropped to my knees and opened his belt and pulled down his zipper, all-the-while pleading with him to hang-up—"PLEASE DON'T TALK TO MY DAD!!"

He made me suck his penis three times that night. He told me what he wanted, and I obeyed him. He made me swallow each load, it was the first time I ever tasted a man's sperm and semen.

When he was finally finished with me, and I went to bed, I stroked myself to the most powerful climax I'd ever experienced. I fell asleep feeling guilt, shame and despair. I knew then and there my life had changed forever.

For the next two-weeks he made me use my mouth on him three-to-five times a day. It was very degrading; he no longer to spoke to me as a friend. In his eyes, I was now less of a human being. 

The worst times were when he was stretched-out naked on his bed. I'd kneel between his legs and suck him off then he wanted more. I'd have to lick his scrotum and suck his balls, then, to my horror; he would lift his legs and order me to lick his asshole. He would make me tongue-fuck his asshole until his cock was again hard enough to suck.

I always wore clothes because he'd say, "I'm not a fag--I don't want to see you naked!"

A couple times he saw the pre-cum stains on the front of my slacks and made fun of me. We were no longer friends. He treated me like a piece-of-meat; he couldn't care less about my thoughts or feelings. I was his fagboy and that was all.

One night he came home, and after he had me suck him, he made an announcement.

"You're going to give your two-week notice at work tomorrow!"

I was stunned. "What are you talking about? I'm not quitting!"

He stared at me and said, "Yes, you are--business is so slow at my place they laid me off--you're going to quit, and I'm taking your job!"

"Huh? What? You can't--"

"Not only that--I want you out of here--I don't want you living here anymore!"

"What? Where am I supposed to live?"

"I don't give a shit--move to San Francisco with all your homo buddies!"

And that was how I got the idea to leave my home town. I chose Florida over California.

"Johnny, I know you're angry with me now, but I think you understand this is for your own good," I heard Tommy say. "You are living a lie, sweetie--I'm going to help you become proud of who and what you are..."

I remained silent and continued staring out the passenger-side window. Tommy had misinterpreted my silence as hostility and sullenness when in fact I was feeling joy and exhilaration.

I haven't been totally honest with you, dear readers, I've known for a long time that I'm queer and have accepted my feelings for men. 

For whatever reason, I enjoy pleasing men. I absolutely adore stroking and licking kissing and sucking a hard penis. There is no sweeter music in the world than the sound of a man enjoying himself while I bring him to climax. 

I am naturally submissive to men, especially older men. I prefer older men; they know what they want, and they're comfortable in their own skin. They seem to appreciate my efforts more than younger guys, and are actually grateful for my attention.

I'm a good listener. I've learned many things about life from older men in the back seats of cars, or on motel room beds. 

Yes, I was dishonest with Tommy when I told him I'd been with five men. I can't even begin to guess the actual number. And I lied again when I said I'd never sucked cock before...I already confessed to you about my best friend Mike, but there had been a couple more men before him.

It is true I've never had anal sex outside the one time that guy put the head of his dick in my hole, and I asked him to take it out. I didn't find it repulsive, or anything like that, I just thought it would hurt too much. 

A couple guys have tried to convince me to do it. It was kind of funny how they said, "Let me stick it in your pussy, baby--you'll love it!" 

I found it amusing when they called my asshole my 'pussy.' I guess there is a certain logic to it though. 

I know Tommy will make me bend over for him, and I'm actually looking forward to it. A couple guys finger-fucked me and I found it very erotic and exciting. I can't wait for Tommy to make me take his cock in my 'pussy.' 

I'm telling the truth though when it comes to my father--he would kill me if he found out I was queer. But you know what? I really don't care anymore! I'm a thousand-miles from home and he can kiss-my-queer-ass!

I don't know why I have to play all these games with men in order to have sex with them. Maybe my father's brainwashing is so deeply ingrained I have to rationalize my behavior even to myself? I dunno, I'm hoping Tommy can help me with that.

It is true I am not comfortable with being gay. No matter how much acceptance gays have achieved the past few years, I believe it is something people should do in private. I still cringe when in public I see two men kissing or holding hands.

I'm hoping Tommy can help me with that, as well.

No, I wasn't staring out the car window feeling anger or pity for myself--quite the opposite actually.

I was completely blown-away by my sudden good fortune. I couldn't believe my good luck!

I moved to Florida with the fantasy of meeting a man and having a relationship with him, but what are the odds it would happen within the first week I arrived? And how incredible is it that the two men I met both own their own businesses, and apparently are well-off financially?

Tommy turned the car into a driveway with a large gate. He keyed-in a code and the gate opened. We drove a short distance on a road surrounded by large trees and thick bushes. I loved it already--the privacy of it all.

When I saw the apartment complex which would be my new home, my heart leapt and I felt a surge of adrenaline flow thru my body. The place was beautiful! 

I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have found such a beautiful, sexy, and rich man. I will gladly cater to his needs, and do my very best to make sure he is sexually satisfied.

My fantasy of becoming a man's bitch was about to become reality...I will let you know how my new life turns out. 

When Tommy parked the car I wondered what he'd make me do first--use my hands? My mouth? Maybe I would finally feel a man inside my pussy?

I hoped he didn't see my small bulge, and the stain on the front of my slacks...no, actually, I hoped he did see it.

*****



Dangerous Games Ch. 01



He had a nice smile even if it was a little weird to see it on a face the color of new grass. She noted that his lips and the area around it were a little worse for wear and chuckled at that as a quick realization hit her. "My lips are green, aren't they?" she commented, and he nodded, looking amused. Another thought struck her and she was suddenly glad that he had chosen green gloves rather then the alternative, otherwise she would be green in other places too. That brought on a blush and she took another drink, unwilling to meet his eyes. 

He took one of his own, then grabbed a tissue and leaned towards her. "Hold still," he commanded, and she obeyed, letting him wipe her lips clean, holding up the tissue to show her the streaks of green that had marred her face.

"There. As beautiful as before, Kara."

Amy blushed, secretly pleased not only at the compliment, but that he insisted on letting her remain in her role. Enough so that despite her curiosity she wished to remain ignorant of his true name. After all, superheroes and villains should keep their true identities secret. It was the rules of the game and sacred in it's way. Besides, this way she could excuse her earlier behavior. It was just a game, after all. Just for fun. 

She wanted him to kiss her. Already she was regretting that they hadn't finished what they had started earlier. Wondering if she had made a mistake breaking character like that, she sipped at her drink, slowly letting Brainiac draw her into small talk again. Nothing too personal. She liked the fact that he left out all the usual banter, like his job and such, and when he did refer to it, it was in character. He'd refer to things like his home planet or his past failures at defeating Superman with a sly smile and a bit of a wink that drew her in. Soon she found herself searching through her own memories and doing the same, mentioning things like her rivalry with Power Girl, or her time spent with the Teen Titans. Just little details like that to keep her thinking in character. It was fun and time just sped by. She didn't even notice when he refilled her drink. 

So she was a little drunk. It was a pleasant feeling, after all. And it made it easier to do things she had never dared to do. Like flirting. Not what she would have considered flirting in the past, like smiling that certain way while brushing her hair back behind on ear or giggling softly while she brushed shoulders with him. Oh, she did all that, but as she got bolder, she threw away her caution, still thinking of that moment in his 'hidden vault'.

After a while it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to lean back against he arm rest and put her legs up upon his thighs, resting the heels of her boots upon the other arm of the chair. This time, she didn't worry so much about her skirt sitting properly under her ass and certainly not about how high the hem rode up upon her thighs. She did blush a little at how wet she was and the way her damp panties clung to her lips, noticing the way his eyes were drawn from time to time, sure that he could catch glimpses beneath her short skirt. She gave a mental shrug, remembering the free of his hand as his finger moved inexorably towards her cunt. The time to be bashful had certainly come and gone.

The conversation lulled, suddenly, a silence that stretched uncomfortably long as he leaned back, a menacing smile playing upon his face, his eyes almost glittering as they slid from the dents her nipples made in her top to her thighs and, quite obviously, beyond.

"I think I may have discovered you weakness, Kara." His evil laughter was actually quite convincing, and a shiver ran down her spine. It felt strangely pleasant, and she smiled, arching an eyebrow his way.

"Have you know? And what do you plan on doing about it, Villian?"

"Your belt, please." It was the voice that she had come to recognize as his 'command' voice, the one he would use when using his formidable mental powers. 

Without a pause, she set her close to empty glass on the floor and unbuckled the bright yellow belt that held her skirt up. Lifting her hips, she slid it out of the belt loops and, at his prompting, handed it to him. He nodded, obviously pleased and wonderful tingle of anticipation spread between her thighs. Maybe it hadn't been such a mistake to slow down. This was just as nice. Then she had thought that they might make out on the couch. Now... well, she just knew that it would not end there. Her breath quickened at the thought, eager for what was to come. 

He, however, seemed to be willing to take his time about it. In a way it was frustrating as he teased her, drawing out the seduction. It was obvious by now that he could have her anytime he wanted, that she was more then willing. Maybe that was what made it so sexy, so much of a turn on. She noticed that her breathing became eratic, too fast, too shallow, making her a little light headed. She wanted him. This time she wasn't going to pass up on the chance to have sex. Just to make sure, she moved her feet apart, moving so that her right thigh pressed lightly against his stomach. She set her left foot upon the carpeted floor, leaving her underwear easily seen as well as accessible. 

He smiled at her, looking smug, her belt still in one hand. "Lift your skirt. I command you." 

She was Supergirl. Not Amy. She fought against the need to do as he had ordered her, but he had already sapped her powers. She was helpless to resist. Slowly, she took the hem of her skirt in hand and lifted it, revealing her thigh an inch at a time until she was fully exposed to him. Her breathe caught in her throat as lay his right hand upon her right knee and pushed it further way from him. She glanced down, seeing exactly what she had expected to see. The front of her panties, so damp that she could practically see through them. There would be little doubt now of her readiness. She looked back up, surprised to find that his eyes weren't where she expected them to be. Instead, he watched her face and somehow, that embarrassed her more. What must he be thinking? She wondered. And then, he seemed to read her mind again.

"You are the sexiest girl I have ever met, Kara Zor-el. I see why they call you Supergirl."

Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded, ready for what came next. There was no turning back now.

"Pull your top up."

She did as instructed, taking hold of the material around her chest and rolling it up gently, and tugging it up over her breasts, exposing them, all the while watching his face. This time he drew his eyes away from hers, admiring her breasts as they came into sight, licking his lips slowly as if in anticipation.

"So hot," be breathed, and she felt both pleased and excited, releasing her top so that it crossed the tops of her perky, rounded breasts, the blue in contrast to her milky white skin. Looking down, she had to agree with him. The sight of her thighs spread open on his lap while her breasts were on view was very hot. As an after thought, she arched her back slightly, pushing them forward with a tentative smile. 

"Good girl." His praise felt good. No one had ever treated her in this way before, and she was discovering that she liked it. It felt... well, there was really no word for the way that it felt. Her pulse was hammering through her and she found herself shaking as if she hadn't eaten all day and was about to crash. Oh, god, what he was doing to her.

"What do you want?" 

Blinking, she stared at him, not quite comprehending the question. What did she want? She wanted him to take her right there on the love seat. Hard and fast, at least the first time. And she wanted there to be a second time too. Her confusion must have shown on her face. He chuckled, his hand squeezing her knee gently.

"I need to hear it from your mouth, Supergirl. Now, tell me. What. Do. You. Want?"

Shyly, she turned her face to one side, looking away from him, only to find his hand beneath her chin, his thumb and fingers against her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "Don't you dare turn away without my permission."

She did her best to nod, and he let her go, but the feel of his grip was still upon her face. It hadn't been painful, but she wondered if that was only because of all the alcohol she had consumed.

"I want you to make love to me." She admitted, a tentative smile on her face.

"Make love? Is that what you want?" 

Shaking her head slowly back and forth, she tried again, knowing what he wanted to hear. "I want you to fuck me, Brainiac. Fuck me until I scream and make me cum over and over. Fuck me hard until I can't take it anymore."

He smiled, once again a menacing smile "That's my girl. Oh, and yes, you will get your fucking. But not yet. This is not about you, Supergirl. This is all about me. Understood?"

Not knowing what else to do, Amy nodded, wondering what was to come knowing that, whatever it was, as long as he would make her cum, she was willing. There was no longer a choice for her. She was too far gone for this not to end up with an orgasm. They both knew that ultimately, he held too much power over for her to stop and that she liked the feeling. 

He seemed to delight in having her debase herself rather then doing it himself. He had her wet her fingers, pushing them one at a time between her lips, and pulling them slowly out, brushing her nipples with them, twisting them gently between thumb and forefinger. She didn't mind, seeing as how it felt so wonderful. He watched her the entire time, teasing the inside of her thigh gently. Then he had her lift the hem of her skirt again, seeing as how it had slipped down to cover her partially. This time, he had her run her finger up and down the gap between her sensitive and slightly swollen lips through her cotton underwear, leaving her gasping as he directed her to slowly circle her clitoris from time to time.

By then, she didn't care that he wasn't fucking her. She wasn't even sure she was going to make it to that point. Just the thought of having an orgasm while touching herself like this at his direction was enough to push her closer and closer to the edge.

"Please... I can't," she tried, trying to get him to understand, but he simply pressed one finger to her lips, and shook his head and she gave in. He stopped, or rather told her to stop just as she was about to climax. In fact, he had had to grab her by the wrist in order to halt her from bringing herself off. She looked at him pleadingly as he pushed her hand away.

"I don't want to get rough with you, Supergirl. Do as I say and stop when I say 'stop', or you will regret it. Now, I want to see your cunt. Take off your panties."

She had no choice. She was too far gone and he had complete control over her. She reached down and hooked her thumbs in her waist band and tugged them down to her thighs, lifting her hips in the process, a whimper escaping her that made him chuckle.

"Poor thing," he teased. "Can't get what she needs. Here, let me help you with those." Directing her to put her left leg upon his thigh, he tugged her panties over her boots and completely off, holding them to his nose and breathing in deeply.

"You smell like slut, Kara. Did you know that? Super Slut is what you should have called yourself. Here, see for yourself."

He pressed her panties under her nose and she inhaled her own musk. It wasn't as bad as she thought it might be. Pleasant in a way. She waited for him to take them away, but he wasn't done yet.

"Open wide." 

She looked up at him, eyes questioning. What she say in his expression made her open her mouth wide and keep it that way while he pushed her panties between her lips, filling her mouth with the scent and taste of her own sex. He praised her, directing her to put her foot back to the floor while he continued to stroke her thigh, his finger brushing the bottom of her sex on the up stroke, making her shudder with desire each and every time.

"Does that feel good, my little Super Slut?"

He knew it did. How could he not? Still, she felt compelled to answer him. Her mouth full, she nodded several times in response, and adding a muffled whimper as way of an exclamation at the end.     How long he teased her like that for, she had no idea. He'd stroke the inside of her thighs and brush her sex while telling her to fondle her own breasts, until she could feel a puddle of her own juices forming beneath her. Each time he brought her to the brink, he'd stop, feeling her quivering under his hand, warning her against cumming before he told her she could. She'd never even imagined someone working her like this. She hated it and, at the same time, she loved it. After a while, though, it grew maddening. She wanted more. She wanted to kiss him, to have him hold her, to feel him pressed up against her, wanted him inside of her. She reached up to pull her underwear from her mouth, having long ago tired of the feeling, only to find her wrists trapped, one in each of his hand. 

He held her like that for a moment, his fingers as strong as iron, then slowly forced her hands down together. 

"Don't move. I want you to keep them just like that, understand?" 

She nodded, unable to speak, a little curious as to what he had planned. Taking her belt, he began to wrap it around her wrists and forearms, taking a moment to thread it between them as well in a figure 8. When he was just about out of belt, he took the loose end and buckled it so that if effectively held her wrists tightly together. 

"There. Let that be a warning to you. Next time I won't be so nice." 

She stared at him, suddenly a little apprehensive. She'd never had anyone do this to her before. Oh, she wasn't clueless. She knew all about bondage. That didn't mean she'd ever tried it, though, and she certainly didn't want him taking it any further. Just think of it in terms of the comics, she reminded herself. He had captured her and had to make sure she couldn't break free. Of course he would use her own belt against her. After all, it was made of otherworldly material, strong enough to prevent her from breaking free. It all made sense, if she looked at it like that. 

Besides, it was hard to worry overly much when he was still stroking between her legs, this time letting his fingers trail up over her parted lips, dipping the tip of his index finger between them and then caressing her clit in a way that was more then merely pleasurable. He built her up to a climax again, smiling at the way she was holding her thighs apart for him, not longer shy about exposing her naked cunt. Her back was arched and her bound forearms were pressed tightly between her heaving breasts.

Reaching over with his free left hand, he pulled her drool soaked panties from her mouth, laughing mockingly as twin trails of spittle ran from either corner of her mouth.

"Someone wants to come very badly." He commented.

Barely able to speak, she nodded quickly, whimpering as the tormented her clitoris once more. "I want you inside of me." She managed, more of a squeak then anything else.

"You do, do you? Do you really? Or do you just want to cum? Because I think that all you really care about is getting off, my poor little Super Slut. Tell me to the truth. Do you want me to fuck you or do you just want to cum?." As he asked, he slipped two fingers inside of her. She was so slick that they entered her easily. Once inside, he began pushing them slowly in and out, his thumb circling her clit just as slowly.

"Say it for me, Kara. Tell me that you want to cum. Tell me that you'll do anything I tell you to do, as long as I let you cum. Say it." The last two words were like iron. He was using the voice again, only this time, he was putting all of his power behind it. She couldn't resist.

"Please, make me cum. I'll do anything you tell me to, anything at all as long as you let me cum." She was beyond caring how desperate she sounded. 

He smiled, pulling out his fingers, gauging her horny enough, as well as immersed in her role, to do as she had just promised. "Good girl. You lay right here then while I go get something."

Amy whimpered. Actually, it was Kara who whimpered as he swung her legs off of his lap and sat her up on the love seat, her entire being centered on one thing, and one thing only, that which he was denying her. 

"I don't want you to move, Understand me? Stay exactly like that until I return or I'll put you back in my car and drive you home. Got it?"

She blinked, nodding. This was her chance, if she wanted it. All she had to do was to disobey him and he'd take her home. She could go to bed, finish herself off, and then go to sleep and no one would be the wiser. She could. She had the choice. It would be the smart thing to do. 

When he returned, she was sitting there exactly like he had left her, looking up at him with a bashful smile on her face, her eyes full of hope. Chuckling, she patted her on the head.

"Good girl. I knew you had it in you. Now, you are to do exactly as I tell you."

Had she been less drunk or perhaps less in need of release, she might have said no. She knew better. She even told herself that at the time. It didn't matter. He had promised her relief and that was all she could think about. The price didn't matter, not then, anyway. Tucked away in her thoughts was the knowledge that he had to play by the rules. No matter how he might tease her, he had promised her and she had faith that he would give her what she needed.

He'd come back with a digital camera. A nice one, by the looks of it, not that she had any real knowledge of on the subject. It didn't matter as it would suit his purposes. 

"Pose for me." 

He used the tone that brooked no argument, and she did, doing exactly what he told her to do, letting him take picture after picture of her in lurid poses. Legs spread, back arched, arms tied, untied, her hands between her thighs spreading her lips apart while wanting so badly to finger herself to orgasm.. Each pose made her feel sexier and fueled her need even more, if that was possible. 

"Not yet, Kara, not yet. Just a few more shots." 

She wasn't sure how long 'the session' lasted, but she was certain that he must have taken close to a hundred pictures of her as Supergirl in compromising positions. He'd made sure of getting her face in many of them, reassuring her that they were all just for his own private enjoyment and that, in the morning, if she regretted her decision, he would delete them all. And she believed him, forgetting who he was. Super Villains, after all, made a career of deceit. She should have known better. 

When he finally announced that he was done, she looked at him from her position on the sofa, laying on her back, her legs upright and spread against the rear cushion, her head and hair spilling over the edge as she cupped her bared breasts. 

"Now? Please?" She no longer cared about dignity or appearances. He'd stopped the shoot more then once to bring her back up to a level of arousal that drove all other thoughts from her head and all she could think about was and end to this. A wonderful, mind blowing end filled with one orgasm after another until she couldn't stand it anymore, if that ever happened. Brianiac smiled, looking down at her, and shook his head slowly from side to side. "No. Not now. I said you could cum for me. I didn't say when."

She lay there staring at him in disbelief. He had promised her. The lying bastard! Fuck him. She would just take care of herself then. She didn't care anymore. Taking matters into her own hands, she pushed a pair of fingers into her sopping cunt while she took care of her clit with her other hand. It didn't take long for her to cum, crying out loudly, hardly even noticing that he was filming the whole event on his camera. It wasn't enough. She barely even paused, hardly satisfied and worked herself up slowly to another orgasm, this one also filmed.




Dangerous Games Ch. 01



Finally, she was done, collapsing on her side, the combination of drink, the lateness of the night, and two huge climaxes draining her. Smiling, he knelt at her side, kissing her tenderly and arranging her limbs so that she would be comfortable, then he brought in a quilt and covered her, tucking her in.

"Good night, Supergirl. Sweetest of dreams." Kissing her again, this time softly on the lips, her breathing indicating that she was already asleep, he left her, taking his camera with him to his bedroom and downloading everything onto his hard drive.

She awoke the next morning, feeling tired and somewhat hung over, sunlight from between the blind slats striking her face. Moaning softly she pulled the quilt over her head and lay still, slowly recalling the events from the night before. Oh, god, had it all really happened? She lifted the quilt, taking note of the fact that she still wore her costume, everything but her panties, and that her top was pulled all the way up to expose her beasts to the world. Or, in her case, to Brainiac and his camera. That thought woke her up quickly enough. Sitting up with heartfelt groan as her headache made itself definitely known, she hugged her covers to her, looking about the room. He was no where to be seen. Nor was the camera.

She stood got up and did a quick search of the sofa and then the room, looking for her missing panties and not having any success. So intent, she missed his entrance. Finally, she sensed his presence, and turned to find him leaning in the door frame, obviously admiring her body. Blushing, she realized that she hadn't bothered to pull her top down and hastened to do so. She face him, refusing to me embarrassed or intimidating.

"I want those picture deleted."

It was a simple request, and it was granted a simple answer. "Of course."

Brainiac stepped into the room. Actually, it was difficult to think of him as Brainiac without his make-up and costume. This morning, he was dressed in a pair of expensive looking gray trousers, and a sharply pressed dress shirt open at the throat. Gold cuff links adorned it. In one hand, he held a camera. Pulling her cape around her, until it covered her belly and thighs, conscious of the fact that she was naked under her skirt, an item that barely covered her, she met him half way. He was handsome in his way. More then handsome. Well built, his dark eyes staring at her from a chiseled face that belonged to a movie star. His head was shaved bare. She wondered if that was to stay in character for his costume or if it was something that he did regularly. Either way, it looked good on him. Very good. She held back a sigh, not sure what how she should feel about what had happened. 

"Here you go."

Holding the camera out, he let her watch while he deleted all the photos he had taken the night before, letting her check and double check before setting it down on the coffee table. Afterwards, he offered her breakfast, but by then, all she wanted to do was to go home and sleep off the rest of her hangover. He was reluctant, but good-naturedly agreed to drive her back to her car. Half an hour later, conscious the entire time of keeping her skirt tugged down as far as she could, she bid him a curt goodbye. She collected her keys and wallet from Kevin who stopped teasing her about where she had been soon after she told him to mind his own business, and drove herself home and was soon asleep beneath the covers.



Dangerous Games Ch. 02



Disney Cruise, Port Miami

This time, the sexual heat was not red hot. Instead, it smoldered. The smoke drifted and teased my body.

The heat from the sun, on the other hand, was nuclear hot. There was not a single cloud in the Port Miami sky. The vapors from the parking lot blacktop rose to caress my bare thighs. The heat molecules passed through to my clit. I was not sure if my wetness was from the sun or something deep inside.

Victor walked half a step in front and to my right. I kept pace, my five-inch wedge slowing me down only slightly. Moments before, he had driven while I retouched my makeup. The car was parked under a small palm tree. Disney Liberty casted a deep shadow, but somehow missed the entire open parking lot.

It took us two hours to cover the fifty miles from Palm Beach International to Miami. He was careful, driving in circles to shake off potential trails. My makeup mirror helped me look at the heavy traffic behind us on the busy Interstate 95. I did not see a single car appear twice.

We were both silent. He had his game face on. I was smiling and barely able to conceal the slow burn. It was the anticipation I lusted after. Better than the actual penetration.

He had one hand out the window, the other holding the steering wheel a little too tightly.

"Nervous?" I broke the odd silence, pulling back the strap of the thin white sundress that had slipped off my left shoulder.

"Of course not," he said, a little too quickly.

"Why not?"

"I'm not the one doing the heavy lifting."

Whatever anyone could say about Victor, he was secure enough to know I was the muscle of the team. He usually did the easy job of planning. This time was different. He had to be with me half the time. It would arouse too much suspicion if I were to operate alone. Couples were the norm in the cruise ship market.

He changed the topic. "Did you know that Disney just got into the cruising business recently? Disney launched its first ship in 1998." Older than me, Victor had a different sense of time.

"Oh yeah?"

"With only four ships, Disney is the new kid on the block."

"That's kind of unusual, right?"

"Correct. Disney is usually the eight hundred pound elephant in the room."

"So how could they compete?"

"Well, size is not everything."

"You must be right. I enjoyed you even though you were average in size."

He looked away. I should not have reminded him. Victor was just six inches. But it was hard and juicy. Too bad it happened only once.

He was clearly uncomfortable. So I changed the topic. "What kind of cabin did you get us?"

"Standard size. Two hundred square feet with a balcony."

"The government is too cheap to get us a suite?"

"It's not a budget issue."

"Then why not?"

"We have to keep a low profile. Just another loving couple." He raised one eyebrow just a tad.

I turned to look at him. He looked straight ahead, pretending not to notice. I was unwilling to let the moment pass.

"Did you just describe us as an item?"

Silence. I should not have pushed. The question remained unanswered. 

Disney Liberty was larger than most cruise ships, able to carry more than six thousand passengers. Security had been informed. They waved us through without looking inside my Mickey Mouse backpack or my cute metallic gray purse slung across my chest. Nor did they bat an eyelid when Victor rolled his small suitcase up the ramp.

Ten minutes later, we were on Deck Four with everyone else. Disney cast members cheerfully explained the mechanics of putting on a life jacket while we looked at our cell phones. Soon, when the ship sailed away, we would be outside the range of the Miami cell phone towers. Victor shot off a quick coded text. He was probably letting Langley know that everything was okay.

After the mandatory safety briefing, we took the stairs up to Deck Nine, starboard side. I sat on the queen bed and he sat on the sofa.

"So which deck is his cabin?"

"It's better if you do not know."

"Why?"

"You'd look more natural that way."

"But you know?"

"I do not know as well. So we can both be natural around the ship."

"Just another loving couple."

His gaze shifted in my direction. I looked at him through the mirror, one eyebrow up. He maintained his game face and did not smile.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Give me a second to slip into something more comfortable."

I brought my backpack into the small bathroom and changed into denim shorts, cropped top, sneakers and got out of the tiny cabin. We had fruit and iced tea on Deck Eleven, next to the smallish swimming pool. I looked at everyone in the pool area, memorizing the male faces. I imagined him to be short and middle aged. Probably accompanied by his wife. There were a few couples who fit the profile.

Dinner was unremarkable. He wore a sports jacket and I put on a low-cut black dress that ended mid-thigh. Victor had to visibly struggle not to look down my cleavage. I focused again on spotting my potential target. We looked like a couple married for a long time, eating without looking at each other and not even talking.

"We have to engage in polite conversation to fit in," he finally said something.

I speared my salmon and took my time. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Something, anything."

"You want me to carry the conversation?"

"I'd appreciate if you can."

"I'm already doing most of the heavy lifting, remember?"

We were even arguing like a pair of long-married couple. I finished my salmon and ordered key lime pie. He wanted a plate of fresh fruit.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you." Half a dozen Disney cast members gathered to sing to the round-faced man next to our table. He was grinning, his hand on the thigh of a young woman half his age. I had a strange feeling he could be my target.

"I have a question," we were back in our cabin before we spoke again.

"Go ahead."

"I understand we need to look natural."

"Correct."

"But how can I eliminate him if I do not know who?"

"You will be informed at the appropriate time."

"Will you be the one telling me?"

"I assumed so. There are only two of us here."

"Why do they need to tell you in order to tell me? Why not tell me directly?"

"I understand they will text me a coded message at the appropriate time."

"Couldn't they text me directly?"

"My level of clearance is higher than yours."

That was his way of telling me that even though I was physically stronger and more lethal than him, he was the boss and gave the orders.

At midnight, the rolling motions of the ocean made me drowsy. I slept on the bed. He slept on the couch.

The heat continued to smolder.

>>>>>

Jamaica

After what Disney called a fun day at sea, we arrived at Ocho Rios, Jamaica. We held hands as we stepped ashore. His palm holding me was sweaty. His other hand was holding his cell phone. The phone vibrated.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom," he said.

I waved him away with a knowing smile. While waiting, I bought a fresh coconut from a street vendor. I gave him five dollars American. He handed back one hundred Jamaican dollars. I was about to sit down on a bench to enjoy when he showed up.

"Walk slowly with me," Victor pointed to the taxi stand.

"Is he on the island now?" I asked when all the tourists from our ship had passed.

He typed his password and an image appeared on his phone. "Take a good look and memorize." He let me look at the JPEG file for five seconds. Then he erased it.

"I remember him. The middle-aged man who just celebrated his birthday."

"What a coincidence."

"Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

"Bad. They might remember us."

"He won't remember anything when he is dead."

"But she might remember."

"So is the mission still on?"

"I believe so. Unless I receive the abort signal."

"What's the timing?"

"Any time after I return to the ship."

"You are not staying on the island with me?"

"No."

"What happened to the loving couple?"

"Those are my orders."

"The upstairs people do not trust you or they do not want you to be in danger?"

"How the hell would I know?"

After Victor turned around and headed back, I walked back to the port. Fortunately, my target had booked an excursion through the ship and was in a group waiting for everyone to debark. The tour guide was counting heads and frowned.

"Are you missing one person?"

"Si, senorita. Are you Ms. Morgan Strong?"

"It's Megan."

"Oh. I so sorry for wrongly say your name. English second language, senorita."

"It's okay. You're doing well."

"You confirm you ride horse?" He pronounced each word carefully, with a heavy accent.

"Si, senor," I struggled with my high school Spanish. "Gracias."

He did another count and proceeded to lead us to a colorful bus without air conditioning. I was glad I wore only my bikini top and a pair of jeans riding low. Even so, my back was dripping wet. I forcibly pushed the heat out of my mind. I needed to focus on the job.

I sat on the last row. My target and his much younger companion were diagonally one row in front. Her head rested on his chest. His hand on her thigh again, this time higher because he thought no one was looking. With a dozen people on the bus, I could not see any way to send him to the next universe. I would have to be patient.

The bus sped up and the wind from the window was pleasant. But the air was thick and heavy. My mind started to float aimlessly.

I wondered how to describe the relationship with Victor. Was our association purely professional? Apart from the one time we united our bodies, did he think of me simply as an operative? Did he regret the one night stand or was I more than a temporary need to satisfy his physical urge?

As the bus climbed up the Blue Mountains, my ears popped. I was quite sure Victor thought of me as more than a colleague. In the last year and a half, he would arrange a special reward after each job. The last one was particularly memorable. I closed my eyes and could still remember Victor's face as he was forced to watch my spreadeagled body tied naked over the legs of the pool table.

So what was he if not just a regular boss? Was he a friend who understood my peculiar sexual demands? A friend with benefits? A lover who loved to watch?

The farm was on the mountain slope, with a spectacular view of Port Antonio. Too bad I was here for business and not pleasure.

We were welcomed by a Jamaican couple. He was wiry and short. She was also short, and very skinny.

"Welcome to Jamaica," his English was accent free and excellent. "Jamaica is an island of 2.7 million happy folks living in an area of 4,000 square miles. It is the third largest island in the West Indies, and the most beautiful. And I don't mean the weed."

The group gathered around him laughed. My target, standing directly in front, laughed so hard he coughed. I wondered if he would laugh whenever his goons reported the kidnapping of helpless girls forced to sell their bodies. Perhaps he rationalized that he was simply providing logistical support to the world's oldest industry. 

Laugh all you want. You would soon not be laughing or breathing.

"You are now near the top of the Blue Mountains, elevation 7,402 feet above sea level. If you feel high now, it's not just the elevation."

Another round of laughter. This group of vacationers was in a good mood.

His female companion continued, "In Jamaica, we don't drink and drive. We smoke and fly." More laughter. She was dressed in knee-high boots, tight jeans, and a string bikini. On her bony torso, she looked boyish rather than sensual. She reminded me of cancer survivors.

"Alright, this excursion is for those who have never been on a horse. Don't worry. We are going to assign only the safest horses to you. None of the horses have smoked anything today."

Yet more laughter. My target bent over in laughter. His companion punched his arm in jest.

I was assigned a white horse with leopard spots. Riding together, my target and she sat on a horse coated with liver chestnut. Starting out, we rode in single file. I made sure two horses separated us.

Half an hour later, we were divided into two groups. The male guide took all the horses with couples riding together. I was stuck with the malnourished woman with all the single riders. Bad luck.

Another thirty minutes and we were all back at the starting station. There was a small cafeteria selling refreshments and bathrooms at the side.

I bought a diet coke and sat on the bench two tables away. When his female companion went to the ladies' room, he hustled over. "My name is Miguel," he stuck out his fleshy hand.

"Megan." I squeezed moderately. He held my hand a second longer than socially appropriate, winking before letting go. He sat beside me, on the same side of the table.

"Does your husband not like horse riding?" He spoke with a BBC British accent. My target is well educated.

"He's not my husband."

"Boyfriend?"

"Not my boyfriend."

His companion came back. She eyed me for a second, then sat on the other side of him, a hand on his thigh. All three of us sat facing the same way. He was trapped in the middle.

"Sabrina, this is Megan." He brushed her hand away. "Megan, this is Sabrina."

We shook hands.

"I was just asking her about her friend." He moved nearer to me. "She said he's not his boyfriend."

Sabrina stood up. "I'm getting something to drink."

"She's not my girlfriend, in case you are wondering." A slight hint of embarrassment. Anyone touching a girl half his age should be embarrassed. 

"So we're both single?" Perhaps there was a way to draw him out to where we would be alone.

"Not exactly," he said. "My wife is back in Colombia. She knows I play when she is not around."

The man might be evil. But he had the audacity to be brazenly honest. My pulse quickened.

"Is she your play thing?" I lowered my voice.

"She was," he said with a crooked smile.

"You want me to be your new play thing?" I leaned sideways, letting my elbow brush him casually.

His lips were an inch from my ear, "No, I want to be your toy."

"Let's hook up back in the ship," I said without looking at him.

"Where and when?" His breathing was audible.

"Do you know the Europa dance club?"

"The adults only area on Deck Four?

"Be there midnight."

"My cabin or yours, assuming of course you're interested after strong drinks?

"Yours."

"Just you and me, or you prefer threesome or foursome?"

It would actually be the fulfillment of my fantasy to fuck and get fucked by Miguel and Victor at the same time. Sabrina was too young and not my type.

So I said, "Why? Aren't you big enough to satisfy me by yourself?"

I knew Victor would not approve. But what the hell. I was not his bitch.

>>>>>

The Ship

I told Victor I did not get the chance to close the deal. There were too many witnesses. I did not tell him I also wanted to personally humiliate the notorious gangster. I knew Miguel was involved in human trafficking and deserved my personal one-on-one service.

Victor was nervous. It would be done tonight, I assured him. I told him not to worry. It would not involve him. He should just stay in the room while I head out just before midnight. Would I be back before sunrise, he asked. I was touched by his concern. If I was still alive, I joked. He returned the joke. He said he just wanted to make sure he would not be interrupted in his sleep.

"What would you like to drink?" His round face looked sinister in the dim light.

"Whatever you are going to drink."

"Two whiskies, on the rocks."

Miguel had the slender body to carry off a red silk shirt, the first two buttons undone to show a chest with red curly hair. His pants were tight and showed a toned butt. I had to admit his body was better than his featureless face.

I downed the whisky quickly soon after our glasses connected. He was a split second behind me.

"Wow. You drink fast."

"I had some practice. I went to a party school for college."

"Which one?"

"Florida. You?"

"I did my MBA in Harvard."

"Wow," I placed my arms on his shoulder and moved down to squeeze his rock=hard biceps. "Smart man."

I caught him looking down my cream halter top. I turned away and removed the remaining button of my red jacket. When I turned back, he was smooth enough to be looking at my eyes.

"I like your diamond green eyes and champagne blonde hair, straight until it tickles your shoulders, then curly to the middle of your shoulder blades."

I tossed my hair back and smiled. "You have a way with words, Romeo."

"I also liked your strappy spiked heels. You Americans call them stilettos, right?"

"They are called fuck me shoes." We stared at each other a couple of seconds before bursting out in laughter.

The heat had returned.

"Two more whiskies, please."

We downed them as soon as the glasses hit the granite bar. This time, he was faster.

"Two out of three?" His inflection made it sound like a challenge.

"You got it alligator," I backhanded him playfully on his stomach. It was like hitting a concrete wall. This man was not to be underestimated. Perhaps this was why he had no visible bodyguards on the ship.

"You lost again," he said as he smacked down the glass on the bar. "So you have to dance with me." He pointed to the dance floor.

"Okay, but let me go to the ladies first."

In the bathroom, I decided to remove my Glock from my purse and taped it under the sink. Holding my hair with one hand, I took out a two metal clips and piled up my hair on top.

I removed my jacket and turned around to look in the mirror. With the hair out of the way, the backless halter showed off my tanned and toned back, drawing the eyes to part of the green snake on my lower back, with the head peeking out of the waistband of my leather miniskirt.

One last step. I locked the door to the corner stall and stuck my index finger deep inside my throat. After wiggling it around, I purged myself and ejected ninety percent of the alcohol. I washed my face, reapplied dark crimson lips, rinsed my mouth with Listerine, and emerged with my jacket in one hand and purse in the other. He immediately ushered me to the dance floor, leaving my jacket and purse hanging on the back of the high stool.

I tried to dance without drawing much attention. But he would not allow me to do so. He was a great dancer, twirling me round and round and attracting the attention of the DJ. All eyes were on us as they DJ called us out. Miguel pulled me to the stage. The crowd clapped and cheered as if they were in a sports bar watching the Superbowl.

As we danced, his expert hand explored every inch of my back. When he moved down my butt, he realized I did not wear anything under the leather. When he turned me around, he pushed his hardened cock against my butt and wrapped his hand around my waist. I closed my eyes and grinded against him.

When I opened my eyes again, my purse was no longer on the stool.

"Let's go have another drink, this time vodka." I shouted at him above the pounding music.

"Wow. You are a real party girl."

I led him through the crowded sweaty bodies, my eyes focused on the stool. Who the hell had stolen my purse?

As we were halfway across the dance floor, Miguel spun me around and kissed me. I let him stick his tongue into my throat for a few seconds before pushing him away.

"Later, okay?"

"Sorry. I was overwhelmed by your sexual energy."

When I turned to face the bar again, my purse was again next to my jacket. Somebody had searched it. One of Miguel's people? Or maybe he tipped the bartender to do so.

We downed three vodkas, straight up, until Miguel was started to slur. Then we switched to rum, downing three more. Finally, we had three Tequilas. Miguel won all the speed contests.




Dangerous Games Ch. 02



JOHNNY'S STORY

I appreciate everything Tommy has done for me, I really do. I will always remember him fondly as my first true relationship, my first real boyfriend. He has taught me so much about gay life and how to act like a proper 'bottom' that I will forever be in his debt.

I'm not in love with him, but that isn't his fault. I've never loved anyone-I'm not capable of that emotion. I grew up in a loveless household; the only thing that mattered was hard work, and perseverance. 

You do your best in school... get a good job... find a woman... have kids... and raise them the same way you were raised... perpetuation of the species-that is what life is all about!

He is kind and a perfect gentleman, and most importantly, a skilled lover. He does all the cooking; I do all the cleaning and laundry. We rarely leave the complex. Some nights I beg him to take me to 'Rods' to shoot pool, but that doesn't happen too often.

He does almost all his business online. He's on the computer at least 7-8 hours-a-day, leaving me alone with too much time on my hands. I get easily restless and bored. 

Our sex life is still good. When he fucks me with his long, thin cock, my orgasms are so powerful I'm reduced to a shaking and quivering, mass of flesh. I adore Tommy's cock whether I'm sucking it, or bending over for him. 

The rest of our life though is rather routine; mundane. 

However, to be honest about it, lately, when I'm kneeling between Tommy's legs I fantasize about my best friend, Mike. I'm not sure why, I should be furious the way he treated me that last few weeks we were together, but I can't help myself. 

I fantasize Mike is forcing me to use my hands, lips and tongue on his cock and balls and asshole. All-the-while he's cursing at me for being gay.

"Suck my cock, you faggot whore" or 'Swallow it all, you faggot cum-slut" or "That's it fagboy-tongue-fuck my asshole like the simpering homo you are."

I really don't know why I get so excited every time I dream of Mike's voice saying these things to me.

Truth-be-told, I can picture every inch of Mike's beautiful cock; every ridge, bump and nuance. I clearly remember how much he loved it when I ran my tongue up-and-down the purple vein on the underside of his erection; how violently his hips and pelvis shook when he exploded in my mouth.

But that was long ago, I will never see Mike again; it is time to move on.

Thank God I met Percy; he's Ernie's boy. He's my age and we hang-out together by the swimming pool or play games in the rec room.

When I met him, he kind of repulsed me. I mean, I could tell was a nice guy, but he acted awfully faggoty even when Ernie wasn't around. Swishy, twink-types have always bothered me.

Since then, I've come to understand the kind of relationship he and Ernie have, and it's much more different and complicated than mine and Tommy's.

Whereas Tommy allows me a certain amount of freedom, Percy is completely under Ernie's thumb. While Tommy engages me in conversation, sometimes even seeking my opinion on matters of importance, Ernie rules Percy with an iron fist. And I think Ernie is something of a sadist, as well. 

The image of the very first time I saw Percy and Ernie is stamped in my brain: it was a warm Saturday afternoon, and Tommy and I were relaxing in chaise lounges poolside. I heard the rusty gate open, and looked over and saw a man about Tommy's age walking ahead of good-looking blonde boy.

The man had a swarthy complexion, and even though he was in his fifties, he still had a complete head of black, curly hair, and he was in excellent shape; he obviously took his body very seriously. There was an air of danger about him.

When I looked closer at the boy; I almost broke out laughing. He walked three-feet behind the man; his eyes appeared to be fixed on the man's ass as they walked. I first saw the dog collar around his neck then his apparel. The man was wearing a tee shirt and sweat pants, but the boy was dressed only in what I recognized from my high school gym class days as a fresh, white jock strap.

When they walked by us, the boys buttocks were totally exposed, showing-off to everyone large and angry red welts. It was painfully clear to me the boy had just been spanked by the man. I had never been so embarrassed for someone else in my entire life.

The man had acknowledged Tommy with a nod of his head; he ignored me. Then he said to the boy "Sit there!" He pointed at the chair next to mine.

"Yes, Sir!" the boy promptly answered. 

I cringed when the boy made a face as the fabric of the chair made contact with his bruised buttocks, but he didn't say a word.

The handsome man continued on his way to the 'weight room' adjacent to the pool. The room was close to the pool and everyone inside were clearly visible thru a big window.

Tommy sat-up, looked at the boy and said, "Percy, this is Johnny."

I turned and the boy offered to shake my hand. His grip was as soft and limp as a dead fish.

"Nice to meet you," he said with a smile and slight lisp.

Good God, I thought. This boy's a total fairy! He was, in my mind, the stereotypical swishy-faggot. I felt an immediate dislike of him.

The three of us sat in silence watching as more and more residents filled the pool area. It was quite a sight to see so many older men with boys around my age. They all came to Tommy and he introduced me to the men, and then would say, "... and this is his 'boy'... " never once mentioning the boy's name. 

At one point, I heard Percy yawn and looked at him as he raised his hands above his head. 

He had no underarm hair-not even stubble! I lowered my eyes and saw no chest hairs either, and noticed his legs were smooth and hairless as well. I found my eyes darting back to his chest.

Good God, the boy has breasts! I thought to myself. And look at the size of his nipples!

He had a very well-defined, almost sculpted chest. He didn't really have breasts, at least not in a woman's way, but they were definitely rounded and shapely.

Tommy excused himself saying he had computer-work to do. As soon as he was gone Percy turned to me and asked, "I saw you staring at me-do you like what you see?"

I blushed a deep red. He laughed and said, "It's okay... I've worked hard to look like this!"

He began talking, and I volunteered answers to his questions. Amazingly, his lisp and faggoty voice were replaced with a pleasant sounding baritone. He used his wrists and hands when he spoke, and there were no traces of the swishy movements he'd displayed when we first met. I guessed it was all an act for the benefit of his man.

"You're very lucky," he said to me. "Tommy is a wonderful man... he's kind and gentle... he treats his boys with respect!"

We talked some more and then I asked him how long he'd been with Ernie.

"I've been with 'Sir' a few months-I'm not sure... the boys here tend to lose track of time," he answered.

He continued: "I met Tommy about a year ago... life wasn't going well at the time... I had problems and Tommy helped me figure things out... he kind of rescued me from myself!"

Percy has a down-home, and friendly demeanor; very easy to talk to. I'm usually shy around people when we first meet, especially guys my own age, but Percy has the ability to make people feel important, to draw them out in conversation.

In a short time, I pretty much told him my life story. At least the edited version I could admit to. I gathered from our talk he had been with Tommy before Ernie. 

He talked about Tommy in such glowing terms I was about to ask him why he'd left Tommy for Ernie when suddenly I heard a booming voice shout, "BOY-GET OVER HERE AND LICK THE SWEAT OFF MY BALLS!"

Percy stopped talking to me in mid-sentence and shouted back, "YES, SIR!"

I watched in amazement as he leapt off the chair and almost ran to the weight room. He never said 'good-bye' to me, or even made a simple gesture. It seemed to me he was in fear of Ernie, and didn't want to displease him in any way.

I noticed a couple of the residents laugh, and watched Percy run to the weight room, but for the most part, no one else seemed bothered or surprised. I have to admit I watched Percy's glowing red buttocks jiggle all the way to the room. 

It made me mad the way the older man treated my new friend, but I have to be honest about this, when we heard Ernie's booming, authoritative voice, I almost leapt out of my chair to obey him and I found myself with an inexplicable erection. 

Anyway, like I said before, you can clearly see inside the weight room thru the large window and what I witnessed next stunned me.

I watched Percy follow his man behind a half-partition; I could see Ernie's legs to mid-thighs, his upper body was blocked from view. I suddenly saw Percy on his knees, his hands lowering Ernie's sweatpants to the floor.

The older man opened his legs wide and Percy's hands and face were out of sight, but obviously busy. I blinked hard several times when I realized Percy was literally licking the sweat from his man's balls.

I surveyed the residents again. A few were smiling as they glanced inside the weight room but most paid no attention. I unconsciously squeezed my hard-on then stopped and looked around to see if anyone was looking at me. No one was paying attention to me in the slightest.

I tried not to stare into the room, but my curiosity got the best of me. Percy remained on his knees for at least ten more minutes... I was positive he was giving his man a blowjob.

Once again I looked around and now no one was watching them. I guessed this was a fairly common occurrence here.

I saw Percy pull up Ernie's sweatpants, and Ernie disappeared thru a door behind him. I learned later it was the door leading to the showers. 

Then I was absolutely shocked by what I witnessed next: Percy remained on his knees, and the man who'd been lifting weights with Ernie stepped behind the partition and I saw Percy lowering his sweatpants.

Given Percy's movements, it was obvious he was sucking the man's cock. I was stunned that Ernie would allow his boy to suck-off another man-the possibility never occurred to me. 

My prick, however, was harder than ever, and I couldn't stop watching Percy's movements. For some odd reason, I fantasized it was me behind the partition... that it was me wearing a jockstrap with a freshly spanked ass... that it was me in full view of anyone who wanted to watch being forced to my knees to service two men. 

I almost came in my shorts. I carefully rose from the chair making sure my hands hid the bulge in my shorts, and hurriedly left the pool area.

I found Tommy sitting at the computer. I gave him a neck and back massage. He turned and saw my erection tenting-out my shorts. 

He chuckled and said, "I gather you watched Percy on his knees in the weight room... how many guys did he do?" The question surprised me. 

"J-Just Ernie and one more," I answered. "This happens a lot?"

He laughed again and said, "Usually there's three or four-sometimes five guys waiting in line!"

He backed his chair away from the desk and pulled me onto his lap. When his hand gripped my hard prick, I threw my arms around him and we kissed. It took less than two-minutes for him to squeeze and stroke me to a mind-shattering climax inside my shorts.

When I regained my breath, I went to my knees and took out his hard cock. I sucked him with a new-found enthusiasm. Sordid images flickered thru my heated mind as I furiously bobbed my head up-and-down his long and thin shaft. 

When he filled my mouth with cum, I quickly swallowed, all the while wondering what Ernie's sperm and semen tasted like. Does everyone's cum have a different taste and texture?

Of course it does, I answered my own question, suddenly remembering my friend Mike's creamy and slightly tart discharge.

The more I accepted my submissive role in life, the more I fantasized about men's cocks. I was definitely a bottom; a guy who deferred to other guys, and enjoyed making men happy. 

Every now and then I pictured what my father would do to me if he ever knew how I pleasure men. I can clearly remember that day in the basement when he spanked me with the pool cue while shouting "NO SON OF MINE IS GOING TO BE A FAGGOT!!"

Guess what, dad? You may have sealed my destiny and fate with that awful spanking!!

At least once a week Tommy and I would eat dinner with Ernie and Percy. More times than not, Jerry the motel owner, and the first man I'd met in town, would be there, too.

Ernie, Jerry and Percy had a relationship I didn't understand.

"What don't you understand?" Percy asked me one day while we were playing the pin ball machine in the rec room. 

He had looked quite tired that morning. It was the first time I asked about their living arrangement. Jerry spent most nights in the second bedroom.

"What don't you understand? I'm their bitch-both of them... Sir has to get up early most mornings so he goes to bed first... I satisfy him then go to Jerry's bedroom and do him, too!"

I shivered. I wondered what it would be like to have to satisfy two men every night. I guess I'd be tired, too!

"Last night they were both particularly horny so I had a late night," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "And of course in the morning, they both want blowjobs to start the day, so sometimes I don't get a lot of sleep... and neither of them let me cum last night."

He must have seen the look of amazement on my face. He smiled, took my hand and placed it on his bulging jockstrap. He forced my hand up-and-down his hardening shaft. His action surprised me so much I never pulled my hand from his prick. 

"That's the biggest problem, they don't allow me to climax very often... " he said then took my hand and led me to a small broom closet, turned on the light and kissed me on the mouth. His warm lips were moist and pliant.

My mind was swimming in fog. I'm with Tommy, should I be doing this with another guy?

"Johnny," he said softly. "I like you a lot... I think we're going to be fabulous friends... would you do me a favor-you have such pretty lips and I'm so horny I could scream!"

His hands were on my shoulders. He gently, but insistently pushed down with his hands until I found myself on my knees. 

"You know what to do, baby, take it out and suck it for me," he said in a whisper.

I was in shock, but I couldn't resist. I could smell his odor thru the jockstrap and my head swooned. I became dizzy. As if in a dream, I watched my hands lower the jockstrap until his shaved cock and balls sprang into view. 

He and I both knew I no longer possessed the desire or willpower to refuse a man anything. My natural inclination is to do whatever a man requests of me. 

I was very fond of Percy and wanted to please him any way I could. I licked the pre-cum from his slit, wet my lips then slid them over his medium-sized, purple cockhead. I groaned when I breathed-in his aroma.

I sucked him slowly; sensuously. I was determined to give him as much pleasure as I possibly could. I thought of his arrangement with two men and, for a brief moment I felt guilt and shame because I envied him. 

"You know," he said, "I once belonged to Tommy... "

I didn't want to release his stiff shaft from my mouth so I made a throaty "Mmmm?"

"I was Tommy's boy for almost a year," he continued. "He taught me everything... he is so kind and gentle-I was madly in love with him... until he lost me to Ernie... "

I gave another "Mmmm?" and began to suck him faster.

"Yes, Tommy lost me to Ernie over a bet on a round of golf... from that day on I became Ernie's property... it was difficult at first-the two of them are different as night-and-day... like I said, Tommy is kind and gentle where Ernie uses punishment to get what he wants out of his boys... Ernie's method is probably more effective-believe you me-when I screw-up, or misbehave, and he spanks me until I cry... well, I never make the same mistake twice!"

My head was swimming from his words. I had a raging boner in my shorts and fought the urge to stroke it as I sucked him.

Percy's hips began thrusting his cock deeper in my mouth. My tongue furiously worked-over his hot, throbbing flesh. I stroked his shaft faster and harder. I lovingly massaged his balls-I could feel them grow larger in my hand.

When I heard his breath catch, I readied myself for an onslaught of cum.

"Yes-yes-yes," he said softly, as though he didn't want anyone to hear.

He gave me four thick streams that I easily gulped down then it was just a matter of licking his slit to coax as much out of him as I could. I noted his cum was sweeter than Tommy's.

As I was trained to do, I cleaned the softening penis with my tongue.

Percy helped me stand; he took me in his arms and said, "Sweetie, that was wonderful-thank you!"

I sheepishly smiled at him. My heart warmed with pride that I could provide my new friend with pleasure.

He kissed my lips and surprised me by inserting his tongue into my mouth. His tongue played with my cum-drenched tongue.

He laughed and said, "I think I can taste the apple cobbler I had last night."

His hand cupped my crotch. He said, "Oh Sweetie, I can feel it throbbing-you need to cum, too." 

He then guided me to a side wall, had me place my hands against the wall above my head, pulled my hips backwards and spread my legs. I had to balance myself against the wall. His hands pushed my shorts to my knees.

He stood behind me and presented his middle finger to my mouth.

"Get it wet, baby," he said.

I sucked-in his finger and licked it, and made it slick with the remnants of his own cum. He withdrew it from my mouth and I felt a hand parting my buttocks. I shivered when I realized his intentions. 

The finger massaged my perineum; slowly, teasingly. I tensed when his fingertip gently pushed on my anus.

"Relax, sweetie, pretend it is Tommy's beautiful cock," he said soothingly.

I did as I was told. I loosened my sphincter and Percy immediately pushed his finger slowly inside me. I took a deep breath when he was in to his first knuckle. He continued on until the entire finger was inside my hole.

"Oh, baby, what a nice, tight asshole... I'm sure Tommy loves fucking you," he said in a throaty voice.

He slowly worked it in-and-out until one time, when just the tip was inside me he stopped.

"Baby," he whispered. "I want you to do the fucking... move your hips for me, sweetie... "

I knew what he wanted me to do, but something in the back of my mind made me hesitate. I mean, yes, I like and trust Percy, but this was the most intimate of acts and I was doing it with someone I barely knew. 

But when Percy reached around and took hold of my hard prick, I couldn't hold back any longer. I thrust my hips back and impaled myself on his finger. 

"Ooooo... " I moaned.

"That's it, baby, fuck my finger... yes-yes, that's good, isn't it?"

The hand encircling my prick remained motionless. If I wanted to cum I would have to move my asshole back-and-forth on his finger and slide my prick thru his hand. 

It was the most deliciously wanton and depraved sex act I'd ever performed. If I wanted to achieve climax, I would have to humiliate myself before the eyes of my new friend. I would have to trust him enough to completely expose myself to him.

Naturally, my lust won out over my inhibitions. I abandoned all my principles and hang-ups and vigorously, almost frantically, fucked his finger so I could feel my prick glide thru his hand.

Oh my God, what exquisite sensations coursed thru-out my body!

I shivered and shook and on one brutal thrust his fingertip bumped my prostate and my balls exploded. 

I screamed-out "OOOHHHHHHHHHHH-YES-YES-OH-GOD-YES!!"

His hand milked my cock until the last of the semen oozed from my slit. I leaned heavily against the wall, out of breath, gasping for air.




Dangerous Games Ch. 02



I heard his voice. "Sweetie, we better be going... it's almost time for some of the weight-lifters to get here... we can't let our men know we're cheating on them!"

Huh? What? I wondered. We're cheating on Tommy and Ernie? Oh my, I guess we are... 

I was reaching down to pull up my shorts but Percy stopped me.

"Baby, you better clean the wall," he said pointing at the streams of cum slowly running down the wall. "Someone will see it-Sweetie, get on your knees and use your tongue to clean the wall!"

Huh? Use my tongue? That didn't seem right... but, of course, I did what he told me. 

With my shorts still down my legs, and my dick and butt fully exposed, I went to my knees and lapped-up my own cum until the wall was perfectly clean.

Whenever Percy and I are alone together now, I lick his asshole then suck him off. In return, he creates new ways for me to achieve climax.

Lately, his favorite has been to watch me finger-fuck myself while I masturbate. Yes, it's kind of embarrassing, but you know what? My orgasms are spectacular!

PERCY'S STORY

It wasn't my idea to leave Tommy for Ernie... if I'd had any say in the matter Tommy and I would still be together. No, it is Ernie and his perverse sexual appetite that has me living in fear and utter humiliation.

I mean, how would you like to walk around in public wearing nothing but a jockstrap with everyone staring at your naked, spanked ass? How would you like to be forced to suck-off all of your man's friends? How would you like to endure verbal and emotional abuse from a man who cares little or nothing at all about your own needs and well-being? 

You might say to me, "Why don't you leave and move somewhere else?" and yes, I could do that-the boys here aren't prisoners, we choose to live this way, but if I left, I may never see Tommy again and I don't think I could survive not seeing him; without being near him.

I like Johnny, he is my only friend here, but I'm jealous of him... he is where I should be-with Tommy!

Maybe that's why I sometimes treat him like I do; try to humiliate him-have him tongue-fuck my asshole then suck my cock while I just make him jerk-off in front of me. 

The thing about Johnny though is he doesn't seem to mind. He's very passive, and always does what I tell him. 

I shake my head at the irony of the situation: he doesn't seem to appreciate Tommy, I know he doesn't love him, and he's always questioning me about my life with Ernie and what he demands of me. 

Johnny gets this far-off, distant look in his eyes when I tell him about my latest punishment, or indignity Ernie has inflicted on me, and I swear to God Johnny gets a hard-on when he listens to my stories.

In a fair and just world, I would be with Tommy, and Johnny would belong to Ernie.

ERNIE'S STORY

Tommy's new bitch gives me a hard-on whenever I see her, err, I mean 'him.' He's so pretty he reminds me of a girl I dated many years ago. I would love to own him. I'd train him properly, not the 'compassionate' way Tommy trains his boys.

I think the little cunt likes me, too. He always seems to be shaking his butt and batting his eyes at me. He gives me a crooked smile whenever Tommy's not looking. Yeah, I'd give the little tease just what he craves-cock, and plenty of it! 

A boy like Johnny needs strict, and rigorous discipline-I would keep his blue eyes in tears, and his cute little ass covered with welts. I would teach him how to really service and satisfy a man.

The other day I caught a glimpse of him changing clothes in Tommy's bedroom. He was wearing tiny, red, string bikini briefs. They looked like women's panties, but I've seen them sold in men's departments.

Her sexy little, creamy-skinned body almost made me cum in my pants, and it gave me an idea of how I'd train her once she became mine. 

I think it just might be time to make another wager with Tommy... 

JOHNNY'S STORY

It had been at least three months since Tommy had taken me to 'Rods' so when he told me to get ready because we were going out I felt an excitement I hadn't experienced in a long time.

He seemed excited too. He had me sit next to him in the car, and at every stop light he pulled my face to his and kissed me hard. He had a strange look in his eyes; one I hadn't seen before, I would have been concerned if he hadn't been acting so calmly.

Once he'd parked the car, I was about to slide out of the front seat when he stopped me, took me in his arms, held and kissed me, then placed my hand on his crotch. He was hard as a rock. 

We continued kissing while I ran my hand over his erection. It kind of surprised me when he gave me the signal he wanted a blowjob: tracing his finger slowly over my lips.

I was happy we were out of the apartment and about to have some fun so I opened his pants and took out his cock. He must have been thinking about a blowjob since we'd left home because of all the pre-cum that had already leaked from his slit.

I stroked and sucked his cock with determination. I wanted to hear his moans and groans of pleasure; they were always music to my ears. When he began pushing his hips upward, forcing more of his cock deeper in my mouth, my head and hand moved piston-like up and down his pulsating cock.

His first stream of cum hit the back of my throat; I steadied myself for the onslaught and was able to swallow the rest of his load without a problem. I licked him clean and fixed his clothing. 

He held my hand all the way to the building, and I thought I saw his eyes mist-over when he held the door open for me.

The bar was crowded and noisy. We walked side-by-side thru the bar area and into the pool room. I was thrilled we'd finally being shooting pool again. 

I saw Ernie, Percy and Jerry sitting at one of the high-tops in the corner beside table six. I didn't think anything of it. I just thought "Oh how nice-a night out with our friends!"

No one said a word when we got to the table, but I felt all their eyes fixed on me. I thought I detected bemused grins on their faces.

Ernie spoke to Tommy: "Alright, let's get this over with... " 

Tommy pulled a quarter from his pocket, flipped it and Ernie called "Heads."

The coin landed on the table-'heads' it was.

Tommy inserted a couple coins in the table and he immediately began racking the balls. My first reaction was of disappointment; I thought I was going to get to play.

Ernie stood at the head of the table, chalking his pool cue.

"Okay," he said before breaking the balls. "One game... if you win I give you that custom Mustang I refurbished and know how much you want... "

I froze. What is going on here? I wondered.

"If I win-I get your boy-that's the bet-take it or leave it!" he said to Tommy.

Huh? What? 'I get your boy?' Did that mean me? 

"W-What is this?" I asked Tommy.

"This is between men," Ernie said sharply to me. "Keep quiet and sit there like a good little bitch... "

Tommy didn't say a word, he just nodded his agreement. He never once looked at me during the game either.

My heart was in my throat. Am I thinking straight? I asked myself. Are they really playing a game of pool over me? Tommy is willing to give me away for the chance to win an old car?

I looked at Jerry and Percy for their reactions. Jerry just stared at the pool table; Percy had a self-satisfied, twisted smile on his face. He was obviously loving the situation I was in.

Everything seemed in slow-motion. It was surreal; I saw shapes and faces moving about the table, but nothing was in focus. My mind was whirling. 

Mid-way thru the game I was able to concentrate. My vision had cleared and I looked at the two men shooting pool.

I saw Tommy, the man who'd opened my eyes and helped me realize who I was... a kind and gentle man who treated me with respect. 

Then there was Ernie-the wild beast of a man. Crude, and cruel... Percy feared him, but for some inexplicable reason, I found him fascinating. 

It was strange: whenever I was around them and Ernie would bark at Percy, well, I couldn't help but get excited. I envied Percy for belonging to a totally dominate, and sexually over-active brute of a man.

I wondered what it would be like if Ernie won the pool game and took ownership of me. My little prick became hard in my briefs. I found myself privately cheering every time Ernie made a ball.

It was all I could do to stay calm and quiet when Ernie sunk the eight ball and won the game. A surge of warmth and happiness ran thru my body like a clear and sunny day. 

I looked at his heaving chest; his rugged, handsome face, and found myself giddy as a school girl. He was now my man!

He unscrewed his pool cue and placed it in its case. He turned to me and simply said, "Get over here cunt, we're leaving!"

I didn't even look at the other three; I was riding high; it felt like I was floating on clouds while I followed Ernie out of the bar.

He opened the driver's side door of his car and motioned me inside. When he closed the door, he turned on the overhead dome light and said, "Take off all your clothes!"

I paused and asked, "Here? In the parking lot?"

His eyes narrowed and the scowl on his face told me I'd said the wrong thing.

"I'm going to teach you some manners when we get home-TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, CUNTBOY!!"

That was the first time I became afraid of him. Fear would soon become a very familiar emotion.

I took off my clothes as fast as I could and placed them neatly on the back seat. When I settled back down I saw he'd opened his pants and his formidable cock was exposed, and hard as a rock.

"Suck me off, fagboy-and if you spill one drop of my cum you'll regret the day you were born!"

It was then I really noticed his eyes for the first time. Wild, crazy-eyes. He looked demented; like a wounded animal with nothing to lose.

"Y-Yes, Sir!" I said without thinking and immediately lowered my head.

A strange chuckle came from deep inside him.

"You're going to call me 'Daddy' from now on-got that you wimpy little pussy?"

The last thing I said before I drew his cockhead into my mouth was "Yes, D-Daddy!"

He had the foulest tasting cum I'd ever experienced. It didn't surprise me in the least.

After I'd received a belly-full of his gruel and fixed his clothes. He ordered me to sit with my back against the passenger door.

"Put your right foot on the dashboard," he commanded. It was awkward, but I managed to obey.

"Pull your left knee up against your stomach and hold it there-I want to see your pussy!"

My anus was totally exposed to his beady eyes. I thought I saw drool escape the corner of his mouth. I'd never felt so humiliated in my entire life. I imagined people outside walking by the car could see me.

"Wet your middle finger and shove it all the way in your pussy!"

Huh? What? I hesitated too long.

"I'm going to do you a favor when we get home, and when I'm done, you won't be able to sit for a week... you're going to learn that when I tell you to do something-YOU DO IT IMMEDIATLY!!"

I felt such an overpowering, palpable fear that I shoved my finger in my mouth, coated it with a mixture of my saliva and his cum then thrust it past the rubbery ring of my anus and quickly buried it in my 'pussy' until my hand came to rest on my upturned buttocks.

My heart was racing, and to my surprise and horror, my prick began to throb while my balls ached for release.

He drove us home with the inside light still shining brightly. All the while I looked at his face, as ordered, my finger buried to the hilt inside my 'pussy', and when he stopped for traffic lights, his crazy eyes stared deep inside my soul.

The only thought in my head the whole drive home was the old cliché: 'Be careful what you wish for... '

PERCY'S STORY

The past six months has been a dream come true. Tommy finally admitted he loved me. When same-sex marriage is legal in Florida, we'll be one of the first couples in line. 

He profusely apologized for losing me to Ernie, but I said life is good now, let's not live in the past. We read to each other, take long walks and enjoy sunny days beside the pool.

Johnny, on the other hand, well, he seems to have adapted to life with Ernie as well as one could expect.

No one saw Ernie and Johnny the first week they were together. I could easily imagine though the vicious purple welts I was sure Ernie had given him.

A few of us poolside speculated what Ernie would turn Johnny into. 

A hard-bellied, muscle-boy? Not likely, we decided; another jockstrap boy? Again, not likely, Ernie has a history of not doing the same thing twice. Perhaps a raging-queen or a limp-wristed twink? Tommy wagered that Johnny would be a sissyboy.

All the tenants eagerly awaited the couples' first poolside appearance. It got to the point when we heard the pool gate swing open, everyone stopped whatever they were doing to see who was coming thru the gate.

Exactly seven-days after Ernie took possession of Johnny, when the gate opened we all turned and saw Ernie holding a leash leading Johnny into the pool area.

Johnny was wearing a dog collar, but the leash wasn't attached to the collar. No, I held my breath as I stared at Johnny's exposed genitals. The leash was attached to a small, metal scrotum ring. 

Johnny's hands were behind his back, and Ernie was literally leading Johnny by his balls.

Then I saw the rest of his outfit. He was wearing 'hoop' earrings dangling from his newly pierced ear lobes; a white garter belt that held up sheer, white nylon stockings; and lastly, pink, high heels, and the heels were at least three-inches high.

All his body hair had been removed, and his naked prick and scrotum were completely exposed to everyone's view. His small penis was erect, and less than four-inches long.

I stared at his face and saw the horror in his eyes at being presented to all his friends and neighbors this way. I was positive this was not what he had in mind when he thought being Ernie's boy would be exciting.

My breath caught in my throat when Ernie tugged on the leash and a tiny Yelp escaped Johnny's mouth. Everyone stared hard at the long butt-plug protruding from Johnny's asshole. At the end of it were fine strands of what appeared to be horse or dog hair.

A more ludicrous sight I'd never seen.

Ernie forced Johnny up the steps to the diving board, and .had him turn so his back was to us. He then unfastened the handcuffs behind Johnny's back and barked an order at him.

Johnny's hands pulled apart his asscheeks and Ernie promptly removed the buttplug.

A thick, viscous liquid began to ooze from Johnny's asshole down his legs. It was clear for all to see that Ernie had recently fucked Johnny in the ass, and we all knew what that fluid leaking from Johnny was.

I had suffered countless indignities and humiliations at the hands of Ernie, but this spectacle shocked all of us. I couldn't begin to sense the shame and embarrassment Johnny must have been going through so utterly and completely exposed like this.

Ernie snapped his fingers and said, "LET'S GO, PRINCESS-YOU CAN LICK THE SWEAT OFF MY BALLS AFTER I WORK-OUT!!"

"YES, DADDY-THANK YOU, DADDY-I'LL LICK YOUR BALLS CLEAN FOR YOU DADDY!!" Johnny responded immediately.

We all watched Johnny precariously climb down from the diving board, small rivulets of cum still running down his legs.

Suddenly Ernie reached into his pocket and pulled-out some garment. He held it high in the air for everyone to see.

"YOU'RE NOT A MAN-ARE YOU, PRINCESS?" Ernie snarled at Johnny.

"NO, DADDY-I'M NOT A MAN!" answered Johnny. I saw tears in his eyes.

"IF YOU'RE NOT A MAN-WHAT ARE YOU?" Ernie was relentless. He was determined to heap as much humiliation on Johnny as he could.

"I'M YOUR GIRL, DADDY-I'M DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL!!"

"AND WHAT DO GIRL'S WEAR, PRINCESS?"

"GIRL'S WEAR PANTIES, DADDY!!"

"DO YOU LIKE YOUR PANTIES, PRINCESS?"

"I LOVE WEARING MY PANTIES, DADDY!!"

"GOOD GIRL," he said and handed Johnny the pink panties. "PUT ON YOUR PANTIES, PRINCESS!!"

"YES, DADDY-THANK YOU, DADDY!!"

We all watched as Johnny awkwardly stepped into the panties and pulled them up his legs. They were as sheer as his stockings; his prick and balls were still clearly visible thru the thin material.

Ernie reached down and adjusted Johnny's dick so it tented-out the front of the panties then yanked on the leash.

"FOLLOW ME, PRINCESS!" he commanded.

"YES, DADDY-THANK YOU, DADDY!"

Everyone's eyes bugged-out as we watched 'Princess' follow Ernie into the weight room. A cold shiver ran up my spine; I couldn't fathom a more humiliating debut for Johnny.

There was some heated discussion among the men, and it was finally determined Tommy had won the bet with 'sissyboy.'

As the weeks went by, 'Princess', as everyone was instructed to call Johnny, seemed to blossom in his/her role. 

Ernie had shaped her nipples to almost two-inches in length; her hair grew long, and she wore it in various feminine hairstyles; Ernie had trained her to roll her hips as she walked, her buttocks shifting enticingly inside her tight panties; and her strict exercise regimen gave her a flat tummy, and shapely chest.

Her cocksucking skills made her a favorite of all the older men. I shuddered when I thought of the amount of cum she had in her belly on an average day.

Tommy and I had settled into a routine of domestic bliss. We rarely went anywhere. Instead, we stayed home and entertained ourselves with books, movies and an occasional dinner at Ernie's where Princess was the main entertainment. Every so often, Tommy allowed Princess to drop to her knees before me and give me her patented blowjob. The men all laughed when I cried out, and made my unusual 'O' face.

I was worried Ernie had permanently damaged Johnny's psyche, but the few times we were alone, he was able to drop the 'Princess role', and he spoke and acted like his old self.

He often appeared tired, but I completely understood why: When I was Ernie's bitch, I too had to perform for, and satisfy both Ernie and Jerry every night, and each morning, as well. That didn't leave much time for sleep.

One evening, when I was doing the dishes and Tommy and Jerry thought I couldn't hear them talking, Jerry said something that set my nerves on edge.

Jerry went on-and-on about a new boy he met at 'Rods.' 

"... the cutest little thing I've ever seen-I'd love to get into his pants!" he kept repeating. "Are you interested in training a new boy?"

I held my breath for Tommy's answer.

"Well, you know what? I think I'm over that stage in my life-it's time for me to settle down... Percy and I have a great life together... I have the boy I want... no, I'll pass on the offer... have you spoken with Ernie yet? He seems to be getting restless these days."

A joy and happiness I'd never known washed over me. I knew Tommy cared for me, but I didn't know he cared this much. I would make him happy for a long, long time.

"Yeah, we talked last night... he's bored with Princess-he's ready for fresh meat," I heard Jerry say. "He said to give you first crack at the boy, and if you declined, he'll go after the boy himself."

"What's he going to do with Princess?" asked Tommy.

"Well, I hate to say it... but if he can't find a man who wants her, he's going to rent her out to Charlie... remember cute little Freddy from three years ago?" asked Jerry. Tommy nodded. "He's still working for Charlie!"

My flesh broke-out with goose-pimples at the sound of Charlie's name. He is the vilest, most evil man I'd ever heard about.

He owns the biggest Adult Emporium in Tampa and has both boys and girls working for him. He'd take them in, give them a room in a small apartment building attached to the business, and pay them slave wages. 

He charges them outrageous sums for room and food and takes it directly out of their paychecks. No one can save enough money to move anywhere else. They literally belong to him, and are forced to perform whatever acts his more elite customer's desire.




Dangerous Games Ch. 02



My opinion of Ernie suddenly changed. What a giant asshole, I thought.

I couldn't believe he would do that to one of his boys. I knew he was an overbearing, egomaniac, but to knowingly give two of his boys to the Devil himself? That was beyond contemptible! I vowed to do my best to keep Tommy away from his friend as much as I possibly could. 

And I prayed to God Johnny wouldn't end up belonging to Charlie.

JOHNNY'S STORY

Yes, life with Ernie has been difficult, but I've learned a lot about myself in a short period of time. 

I am gay-that is who I am, but for reasons I don't understand, I still need threats and humiliation to accept and enjoy sex with men. 

How can I say this? I love men and their penises, but cannot freely admit it-even to myself! Pretty weird, huh? 

I love being dominated by a strong-willed man. I love the security of a strong man lying on top of me... the helpless feeling of being pinned-down on the bed. 

I love stroking, kissing, licking and sucking hard cocks. I love taking hard pricks in my pussy-more times than not, when a man is fucking me; I experience a fabulous orgasm without my prick even being touched.

But for some reason, I can only enjoy myself if the man humiliates and embarrasses me. I guess deep inside me somewhere, my father's warning about becoming a faggot still has a stranglehold on me. I have to rationalize to myself my love of cock.

I am afraid for my future. Ernie has grown tired of me. I think he enjoys the thrill of the hunt more than the actual possession of a boy. He gets more excited by intimidating and training new boys than by a boy who is as thoroughly cowed and accepting of his treatment as I have become. 

He is bored with my meek and mild behavior-he wants a new boy. 

He told me tonight he wants me to seduce a boy who hangs out at 'Rods.'; to somehow lure the boy inside 'The Playroom' at Jerry's motel, and get the boy to have sex with me. 

I have come full-circle-the hunted has become the hunter.

I asked him what will become of me; how will I live? He said I shouldn't worry my pretty little head over it; he will find a good man for me. He said he knows a man named Charlie who would take good care of me.

I don't know... the thought of starting over with another older man has me concerned. I am only there to provide him with sex... I want more now... I want a real 'relationship'... I want a man to love-a man who loves me... I want to build a future, not just be someone's boy-toy.

Ernie is lifting weights while I dutifully wait poolside until he is ready for me. Something odd is going on around me. 

I watched Jerry walk thru the gate and go directly to Tommy two chairs away from me. He whispered a few words in Tommy's ear then left. Tommy motioned to Percy to lean over then he whispered into his ear.

"What's going on?" I asked Percy.

Percy fidgeted and stumbled over his words. "Oh, uh, not much... we're, uh, making plans for tonight."

Shortly thereafter, I glanced at Percy and saw a small smile on his face. 

There wasn't much time to think about it; everyone poolside soon heard Ernie's booming voice.

"PRINCESS, GET IN HERE AND LICK THE SWEAT OFF MY BALLS!!"

"YES, DADDY!" I shouted. "THANK YOU, DADDY!"

As I hurried to the weight room I saw the usual men climb off their chairs to wait in line for their turn with me behind the partition.

PERCY'S STORY

On the drive to 'Rods' I was so nervous and excited I almost peed myself. 

Jerry had told Tommy there may be an alternative for Johnny; that maybe he wouldn't have to belong to Charlie, after all; that something miraculous happened the past two-days.

All three of us were nervous... we liked Johnny and hated the idea of him moving to Charlie's place and working for him, but Ernie was their oldest friend, and they didn't want to ruin the friendship.

Tommy held the door open for me as we went into 'Rods,' and I immediately spotted Jerry at a table. My heart sank and I coughed and choked when I saw Charlie sitting next to him. 

Not only is Charlie an amoral and unscrupulous human being, he's one of the ugliest men I'd ever seen. Pock-marks cover his face from a severe bout of childhood acne, and his huge, red bulbous nose told me he had to drink a lot so he could live with himself and justify his disgusting treatment of unsuspecting young boys and girls.

I shivered at the thought of Johnny in bed with that hideous person. I scanned the bar and saw the man I was expecting to see and went and sat with him while Tommy sat next to Jerry. I didn't want to be anywhere near Charlie.

I was halfway thru a glass of wine when Ernie and Johnny came thru the door. My pulse quickened; my heart began to race.

They went to the bar and got two drinks. Johnny went to the pool room while Ernie sat with his friends at the table.

Johnny was looking fantastic; very sexy in a one-size-too-small tee shirt with a bare midriff; his erect nipples poking-out the front of the shirt. I glanced down and drank in the briefest, shortest short-shorts I'd ever seen. The lower portions of his ass were temptingly exposed below the shorts encased in pink panties. 

He'd come a long way... he wasn't at all self-conscious of his rather slutty appearance.

It wasn't long before we saw Johnny come back to the bar and order two shots of whiskey then return to the pool room. Forty-five minutes later he returned for two more shots.

On his way back he casually glanced at Ernie and winked his left eye signaling the bet was on... whoever the boy was that Ernie was so keen on possessing had agreed to the terms of Johnny's wager.

A minute or so after Johnny returned to the pool room, Tommy stroked his chin-that was my signal to escort my new friend into the pool room so Johnny could see us.

I felt like I was in a James Bond movie. If this plan worked, Johnny would be saved from an evil man and just maybe live happily ever after... if the plan failed, well, the consequences were too horrible for me to contemplate.

JOHNNY'S STORY

I could see why Ernie wanted this boy. He was my size, cute as a button, and when he smiled at me, my heart melted. He was the prettiest thing I'd seen in a long time and even I began to fantasize what he'd look like naked.

His name was Tim. He was new to town, couldn't find an affordable apartment, and hadn't been able to find a job, either. He was staying at Jerry's motel, but his money was running out. He was in a desperate situation.

My own life flashed before my eyes. Eight-months earlier I was this boy!!

He was very grateful when I offered to buy him a drink. We sat at one of the high-tops near table six and he was more than willing to tell me his life story. I understood why he was lonely, and somewhat scared... he'd had all these grand plans for a new life, a fresh start, but nothing was working out like he'd envisioned.

He jumped at the idea of playing pool. I could see right-off that Ernie was right; Tim wasn't as good a player as he thinks he is. I hadn't played much recently, but I knew I wouldn't have a problem beating him.

He drank straight shots of whiskey. I ordered him two-shots-at-a-time from the cocktail server. I told him I was drinking vodka with soda and lime, but it was actually plain soda water. It was fascinating to watch him go from sobriety; to tipsy; to the point he began to stumble and slur his words. 

I let him win four-games-in-a-row. I felt like a terrible person for doing this, but I couldn't see any way out. 

Ernie said if I didn't go thru with this he wouldn't introduce me to his friend, Charlie, and I'd be out on the street with no money, and no place to go.

We had played for the usual stakes: five-dollars-game, but now was the time to make my move.

I began rubbing his shoulders; he gawked at me thru watery eyes.

"Timmy," I said. "Why don't we make the next game more interesting?"

"W-What do you mean?" he squinted at me.

"How about we wager three-hundred dollars on the next game?" I said with a smile.

"J-John, I-I don't have that kind of money!" he said with a disappointed frown on his pretty face.

"You don't have to put up money," I said. A puzzled-look furrowed his brows. "If you win, I'll give you three-hundred dollars... if I win, we spend the night together in your motel room."

His eyes bugged-wide; his face flushed a deep red. He looked all around us before he said anything.

"B-But, J-John-I'm not gay! I-I am sorry, but I can't do anything like that!"

"Timmy," I said softly. "It doesn't matter if you're gay or not-it's only sex-I promise no one will ever know... "

He slowly shook his head and repeated, "I can't-I can't-I can't."

"Okay," I said. "I'll make it four-hundred dollars!"

He rolled his eyes. I knew there was a fierce battle raging inside him.

After a long pause he whispered to me, "W-What do I have to do for it?"

He will was weakening. I whispered back: "Just use your hands and mouth-that's all!"

I saw the wheels in his head turning. He absolutely needed the money, but could he go thru with this? I understood where he was coming from.

He sadly shook his head back-and-forth and said, "I wish I could... I wish I could... I just can't do it."

"Timmy," I said softly, "... you've beaten me four-straight games-you're obviously better than me... here's my last offer-six-hundred dollars-if you win you get six-hundred dollars and I promise no one will ever know about this!"

That was the most money Ernie said I could offer. Now it was my turn to feel anxious and scared. I couldn't believe my own future would be determined by a bet on a game of pool!

His face twisted and contorted with mental anguish. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide; they appeared clear and lucid. He unclenched his jaws and audibly sighed then looked me directly in the eyes.

I could see he had resigned himself to his fate.

"Can we have another drinky first?" he asked in a small and squeaky voice.

When I started for the bar, Timmy said, "Why don't you just get the server to bring the drinks? He's right over there!"

"Well, I think it'll be faster if I get them myself!" I lied. I had to go into the main area and give Ernie 'the signal' that Timmy had accepted the bet.

The balls were already racked when I came back. I chalked my cue, lined-up the cue ball, and smacked the cue ball into the waiting balls.

I couldn't believe how hard I hit the ball. A rush of adrenaline must have given me an extra surge of power. The balls scattered around the table and by the time they came to rest I'd made two stripes.

I surveyed the table and saw the other striped balls in open and clear positions. I could easily 'run the table' and end this before Timmy even had a shot.

Conflicting emotions washed over me. I felt sorry for the boy, but it was now a matter of self-preservation. 

At least he'll have a roof over his head and three-meals-a-day, I told myself as I lined-up the shot.

I made the shot and left the cue ball in a good position to run the table. 

I lined-up the next shot and was about to pull the trigger when someone behind me patted my butt and said, "Hey cutie, I love the way you wiggle your ass when you bend over like that!"

I recognized the voice, but couldn't think who it belonged to. I stood up and turned around and OH MY GOD... IT WAS MY BEST FRIEND MIKE!!

I was stunned; speechless... blood rushed to my face; my jaw dropped open but I couldn't say a word.

He came close to me, and with a grin on his handsome face he leaned-in and whispered, "If you lose this game, I'll let you sleep with me tonight... do you want to suck my cock, fagboy?"

He backed away and I saw he was with Percy. They sat at a nearby table to watch our game.

My mind screamed: WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? IS THIS FOR REAL?

The last time I saw him he loathed and despised me; he treated me like I was the worst person in the world... and now this?

I became dizzy and saw stars dancing before my eyes. My hands trembled and icy shivers ran up-and-down my spine.

IS HE SERIOUS? DID HE MEAN WHAT HE SAID OR IS THIS SOME SORT OF HURTFUL REVENGE?

I searched his face for clues to what he was thinking; any sign at all that this was for real.

He was fidgeting in his chair; a look of nervous anxiety crossed his face. He forced another smile, and then I saw the tears in his eyes. It was the most emotion I'd ever seen from him; his usual stoicism was gone. 

OH MY GOD-HE MEANS IT!! HE CAME HERE TO SAVE ME!! 

My heart exploded with a warmth I'd never known before; my own eyes filled with tears of joy!

Hurry up, I said to myself. The sooner this game is finished the sooner I can be with him!

The trembling and shaking was gone; I experienced a calm peacefulness that filled me with an overpowering sense of purpose and happiness. I finally realized what needed to be done. 

I leaned over the table, lined-up the cue ball, and missed an incredibly easy shot.

Timmy made two balls then missed an easy shot of his own. I missed again then he missed too. 

Damn, I said to myself. This kid really IS bad! 

Every time Timmy lined-up a shot I prayed he'd make the ball, but he usually didn't, and it turned into the longest pool game of my life.

It came down to the eight-ball for both of us. When he missed a straight-on shot to end the game I closed my eyes and gave a moan of exasperation.

I had a simple, straight shot of my own to end the game. I stood up and looked around to see who was watching. It was still just Mike and Percy; the others were nowhere in sight.

I leaned over, lined-up the shot, and smacked the cue ball with high English. The eight-ball careened into the corner pocket immediately followed by the cue ball. I scratched on the eight and lost the game.

Timmy literally jumped in the air and shouted his joy. I took six hundred-dollar bills from my pocket and placed them in his shaking hands.

"Tim, this city might not be for you," I said. "Why don't you use this money to go home?"

Moisture filled his eyes as he said, "I think you may be right... thank you, John!"

We shook hands and he left with his winnings. As soon as he was out the front door we heard Ernie's heavy foot-steps heading our way. We heard his voice before we actually saw him.

PERCY'S STORY

When Johnny stood-up from the pool table, turned and saw Mike, well, the shocked expression on his face was priceless. 

A couple days earlier, Jerry told Tommy and me that someone was hanging around 'Rods,' asking about Johnny. He'd shown Johnny's picture to Eddie the Bartender and Eddie told him, "Yeah, I know him-he comes in here sometimes." Eddie mentioned it to Jerry, and, well, the rest is history. 

None of us wanted Johnny working for Charlie, so we concocted this scheme. The men said we had to do it in a way that wouldn't rouse Ernie's suspicions. It made me wonder if there wasn't more than meets the eye in their relationship with Ernie. 

I began to think that Ernie might be blackmailing the both of them. That would go a long way in explaining their tolerance of his cruelty and selfishness.

Tommy took me to 'Rods' and I had a couple long talks with Mike. He was extremely uncomfortable and reticent about speaking with me. I carefully explained Johnny's predicament to him, and he finally opened-up, and told me why he was looking for him.

His was a sad, but not-so-uncommon story. 

Best friends for many years, they did everything together; and could talk for hours about anything and everything under the sun. 

When Mike followed Johnny to the park that night, he admitted to me that it wasn't so much the shock of discovering that his best friend was queer (Mike's word), he had kind of suspected it all along, but rather, he felt Johnny had betrayed him by not sharing his secret with him.

He said he'd grown to regret his actions towards Johnny, and he'd come to Tampa to apologize to him.

I knew there was more to his story than that, but he wouldn't, or couldn't open up to me.

We met the next night at 'Rods' again and this time I plied him with enough alcohol to loosen his tongue, and inhibitions.

At one point he accidentally blurted out: "He ruined me for women!"

I pressed him on that, and after hemming-and-hawing he finally said, "The last month we were together I made him do things... "

"What 'things'?" I asked. "You mean 'sex,' don't you? You made him have sex with you and you loved it!" I almost shouted.

"NO-NO-it wasn't like that," he objected. "I only had him blow me-we didn't have actual sex!"

"And he did it better than any woman you'd ever been with, right?" I said.

"Well... yes-he was damn good at it!" he admitted sheepishly.

"And you fell in love with him, isn't that right?" I shot back.

"NO-NO-YOU'RE CRAZY-I'M NOT A FAGGOT!" he shouted. Then he softly added, "... we've been friends for years... we did everything together... I can really talk to him, I mean, you know, about important stuff-things that matter... I miss that... I miss him not being around."

And he listened to me with his eyes lowered, not daring to look me in my eyes. I explained how it was, and what needed to be done. I coached him on what he needed to do and say. 

When I was finished he agreed to do what I'd suggested. 

Then he said, "You know, just because I'm going to do this doesn't mean I'm a faggot!"

I shook my head with false sympathy and answered, "No, I know you're not-you are only helping out an old friend!"

I can only do so much, I told myself. It'll be up to Johnny to take him the rest of the way.

"WHY THE HELL DID THE KID LEAVE? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN HERE?" screamed Ernie as he entered the pool room.

Johnny replied: "I lost to him-he beat me-he was better than you said he was!"

Ernie's face turned purple with rage. He stormed over to Johnny and stood in his face.

"BULLSHIT-WHERE'S MY MONEY? GIMMEE MY MONEY BACK!" he spit in Johnny's face.

"It's gone-I had to bet all of it for him to agree to play-he's got it all," Johnny said calmly.

Ernie slapped Johnny hard across the face, sending him sprawling onto the pool table. Mike leapt to his feet and rushed to Johnny's defense.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE, OLD MAN OR I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!!" Mike screamed at Ernie.

Ernie was caught by surprise. He wasn't accustomed to anyone challenging him.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" he shouted in Mike's face.

"I'M THE GUY WHO'S GOING TO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU IF YOU EVER TOUCH HIM AGAIN!" Mike screamed defiantly.

Ernie stared curiously at Mike. He seemed to sense that Mike meant what he said. His attitude immediately softened.

"C'mon, bitch" he said to Johnny who had gotten to his feet. "We're going home!"

"Maybe he doesn't want to go with you!" Mike squinted in Ernie's beady eyes.

"Look, buddy," Ernie said to Mike. "This boy belongs to me and we're leaving!"

Mike shook his head then said, "He doesn't 'belong' to anyone... if he doesn't want to go with you he doesn't have to."

"I won him fair-and-square... he's mine and he's leaving here with me!" Ernie challenged Mike.

"What part of 'no' don't you understand, old man?" replied Mike. "He's not your slave-he's a human being who can make his own decisions!"

"Look, boy," he warned Mike, "... if you want him, fine, I'll shoot a game of pool with you... if you win-he's all yours-if I win, he stays with me and you'll pay me the money he lost to the kid!"

Mike stared hard at Ernie. "You're a pathetic, old fuck! John is leaving with me... if you have any objections c'mon outside and I'll fight you for him... otherwise move aside, he and I are done playing dangerous games with you!"

Ernie, Tommy, Jerry and creepy Charlie all stood slack-jawed as they watched Mike lead Johnny out of the bar. It was the last time any of us saw Johnny.




Dangerous Games Ch. 02



I sat in awe of the man who came to the defense of the boy he claimed he didn't love. He'd just proved to Johnny and himself how deeply he really cared.

I was ecstatically happy for Johnny, and at the same time felt envy, and a deep yearning to meet a real man like the one Johnny now had.

JOHNNY'S STORY

I don't know how to say this better, but when Mike led me out of the bar, I felt like a girl who'd been swept off her feet by the man of her dreams.

It was the first time I admitted to myself that I'd been in love with Mike for a long time. I had no clue what would happen after tonight, but I knew in my heart that for at least one night, I would be going to bed with the man I loved. 

On the walk to the motel we made small talk. You know, like "How's your family?" and "Did you make good time driving here?"

I decided to go slow, take baby-steps with him. I didn't want to freak him out by being too pushy or bold. 

My heart swelled with pride at how he came to my rescue, but I had no idea what he was thinking, or why he even did what he did. All I knew for sure was he drove all the way here to find me-he wouldn't have gone thru so much trouble if he didn't have feelings for me, right?

Once in the room he poured us three-fingers of whiskey and we sat side-by-side on the loveseat. I hadn't had a drink in months so I sipped mine slowly. He drained his in two-minutes and poured himself another one.

"Thanks for tonight," I said. "I don't know why I put up with that asshole for so long."

"I had a talk with Percy-he's a good friend to you... he explained a lot of what's happened to you since you got here... I can't say I understand it, I don't know, maybe I pushed you into it... I'm sorry for the way I treated you... " he said, then with a rueful chuckle added, "... this is hard for me, but... "

He hesitated so I said, "But what?"

He looked straight ahead and said, "I dunno, I can't stop thinking about that last month we were together... I never told you, and I know I didn't act like it, but I had a great time... you made me think about things... my life, my attitude towards things... and men and women."

He took a large swallow then said, "After you, I didn't have much interest in women... "

I placed my hand on his leg; he looked at it, but didn't object.

"Well, when you're with the best it's hard to settle for anything less," I smiled, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

He laughed, took another drink then said, "I see you're wearing women's underwear-is that your idea or was it his?"

"No, that was his idea... " I said; then decided to test the waters. "If you don't like it, I don't have to wear them."

I saw him blush-very strange, Mike almost never turned red.

"No-no, uh, I kinda like it," he said. Then he looked at my legs and said: "I noticed you don't have hair on your legs, are you, uh, shaved all over?"

I smiled and let my hand wander up-and-down his thigh. 

"Yes, my body is hairless... my flesh is as soft as any girl you have been with," I said. I took his hand and placed it on my leg. "Here-feel for yourself!"

Very slowly he began to rub my leg. It was tentative, awkward, but I was getting positive vibrations from him.

I glanced down and saw the bulge in his jeans.

I said, almost in a whisper, "Would you like to see my panties?"

"Ohhhhhh... " he groaned. I took that to mean 'Yes.'

I stood, pulled off my tee shirt then opened the shorts and pushed them down my legs. I wriggled my hips like a girl, just as Ernie had taught me.

Mike stared at my hard prick tenting-out the sheer, pink panties. 

"Wow," he exhaled. "Does it hurt to shave down there?"

I sat beside him, close, and replied, "You don't really have to 'shave' anymore... there are creams that remove all the hair... you know me, I'm a big baby... I don't want any type of razor... down there."

He laughed. I began massaging his thigh. I heard his voice catch in his throat.

I wanted to take him in my arms and hug and hiss him all night, but I didn't want to spoil the moment.

He suddenly became pensive; his face reddened one more time.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly. 

"Uh, I... I don't know what to do... I've never done this-uh, well, you know I-"

I put a finger to his lips and stopped him then said, "Shhhh... you don't have to do anything... or you do what comes natural... there are no rules for this... do whatever you want to do." 

I boldly squeezed his erection and stroked it thru the jeans.

"Ohhh, Johnny," he moaned. "I missed you so much!"

He leaned into me, his head getting close to mine. I thought he wanted to kiss me so I leaned into him, as well. At the last second, he pulled his head back. 

"OH GOD, JOHN, I'M SORRY... I—I-"he said loudly.

"Shhhh... " I whispered again with my finger on his lips. "Don't worry about anything... you'll know when the time is right."

I worked his belt and opened his jeans. My prick was throbbing in my panties; I wanted to see his beautiful cock again. It had been too long.

He lifted his hips as I yanked down the jeans and boxers. I took his cock in hand and slowly stroked it.

"Ohhhh, Johnny... " he moaned.

I went to my knees before him. I worked his jeans and boxers all the way off. I cupped his balls in one hand and firmly held his shaft with the other. 

Just before I went down on him I glanced at his face-OH GOD YES... the look of wonderment and rapture was all I needed to see to make my heart flutter.

I wet my lips and slid them over his swelling cockhead. I sucked slowly at first, wanting to give him maximum pleasure. My tongue never left his hot flesh. The manly aroma from his crotch made my head swoon. I became lost in the sucking and the groans and moans coming from his slightly parted lips.

He was excited; his hands caressed my neck and hair. His touches were soothing; loving. I licked the pre-cum from his slit. It tasted as wonderful now as it had months earlier.

His hips began small, almost imperceptible upward thrusts. I took his hard cock deeper in my mouth. I licked the long vein on the underside of his cock and his thrusts became more urgent; he was getting close.

My hand stroked his shaft harder and faster. My lips slid furiously up-and-down his rapidly expanding cock. 

He cried-out; I remembered how he shouted when he came. His first stream filled my mouth; I frantically swallowed... a second stream—a third stream—a fourth stream... 

I wondered how long it had been since his last orgasm.

His sweet and salty cum brought back memories; it coated my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed... 

I licked the last of the nectar dribbling from his slit. His cock quickly deflated. Once I'd licked him clean, I looked into his eyes and my heart burst with joy and happiness.

I didn't have to hear the words, his eyes said it all. His eyes gazed down at me adoringly and told me everything I needed to know. 

OH MY GOD, I thought. THE MAN OF MY DREAMS LOVES ME, TOO!!

We talked for an hour. He told me his plans. He had a bartending job waiting for him at a nice resort on Key Largo. 

"I—I don't want to leave you again," I protested.

"No—no," he quickly said. "You're coming with me-if you want to, that is... there aren't any more bartending jobs, but I told them you'd make a great cocktail server-they said 'he's hired'! What do you think-you want to go there with me? The tips are supposed to be fantastic there!"

I smiled and said, "I will follow you anywhere you want to go... there's one problem though... every stitch of clothing I have is at Ernie's place, and I'd rather not go back there."

He held me close to him. "No-I don't want to see that asshole either... tomorrow, before we go to the resort we'll go shopping... since I didn't go out much after you left, I saved some serious cash... we'll get you everything you'll need... do you still wear 'boys clothes' over your dainties?"

"Yes... but they're kinda faggoty," I said and we both broke out in laughter. "Maybe real men's clothes would be the way to go... for now."

He looked concerned. "Ah, what about, you know, underneath?"

I smiled and said, "OHHH, you kinda like me in panties, do you?"

For the third time tonight I saw him blush.

"Well, umm-yes I do... you look hotter in panties than any woman I've been with!"

"Why thank you-that's so sweet... wait til you see me in a garter belt, stockings and sheer negligees!"

His eyes momentarily glazed over. I laughed.

"I hope you have a strong heart," I said playfully. "I don't want to kill you, my Darling!"

I immediately regretted calling him 'Darling.' It was too soon-I didn't know how he would take it. I snuck a peek and saw a bemused smile form on his lips. 

He kissed my forehead and said, "My heart is plenty strong, and you know... that would be one helluva way to go!"

I was thrilled by his reaction, but only smiled at him in return.

I used the bathroom first. I didn't have a toothbrush so I gargled twice with his mouthwash. 

When I walked by him on my way to the bed his eyes were glued to my panty-encased buttocks. I gave him my best girly-walk, rolling my asscheeks then asked him again: "So you like me in panties, huh?"

He stood up, smiled and said, "When I get back I'm going to show you how much I like them!"

He ran to the bathroom and I laughed and laughed.

He left the bathroom light on and came to bed. He was naked, and his beautiful cock was almost hard again. I remembered he liked to sleep-in-the-raw.

He climbed into bed beside me. I was nervous. We'd never actually slept in the same bed.

He turned on his side to face me. I did the same. He took me in his arms. He kissed my forehead and stroked my body with both hands. I caressed him as well.

I heard a sharp catch in his breath when he found my newly extended nipples. 

"Oh my God... did that man do this to you?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he liked them or not.

"Ah, well, yes he did," I said hesitantly.

"I love them!" he exclaimed.

He pinched and rolled them until they were hardened points. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I stroked his belly, and thighs, occasionally brushing the palm of my hand on his penis and scrotum. He was hard almost instantly.

He surprised me by running his hand over my crotch. He pressed his hand into the sheer material of the panties and tried to massage my dick to erection. Something was wrong-no matter how he played with me my damn dick wouldn't get hard.

"I don't know what's wrong," I said meekly. "I-I-"

"Shhhhh... " he whispered in my ear. "It's okay, I know what you need... "

He pushed me roughly on my back and climbed on top of me. He nipped my earlobe with his teeth.

"You're my little fagboy-you belong to me now-you're my panty-wearing, sissyboy-faggot, aren't you?"

My prick began to respond to his words.

"Tell me what you want, sissyboy... you want me to use you like a girl, don't you?"

At first, I was bewildered that he would be so mean and cruel, but the more he talked, the more excited I became.

He pinned my hands above my head using just one hand. I was powerless against his strength. He grabbed my prick thru the panties and fiercely rubbed and squeezed it.

I tried to get out from under him but he was too heavy.

"Don't fight me, pantyboy... we both know what a sissy-faggot like you wants-tell me what you want fagboy-I going to give it to you whether you want it or not... "

My prick was at full-blown erection straining against my panties. I'd never felt such excitement in my life.

"Oh God-Oh God-Oh God... " I kept saying.

"Say it, fagboy-SAY IT!!"

"Oh God, Darling, I want you inside me-please—please-I need you inside me!"

"What is it you want inside you, fagboy? WHAT DO YOU WANT INSIDE YOU?"

"OH GOD-I WANT YOUR COCK, MY DARLING-I WANT TO FEEL YOUR COCK INSIDE MY PUSSY-PLEASE FUCK MY PUSSY WITH YOUR WONDERFUL, HARD COCK!!"

He released his hold on me and I felt his hands on the waistband of my panties.

In one, swift and vicious motion, he tore the panties completely off me and tossed them on the floor beside the bed.

He brutally spread my legs apart and positioned himself between them. He used his hands and lifted my legs upward until they were on his shoulders.

All the while I muttered incoherently, "Oh yes-oh yes-make me your bitch-I WANT TO BE YOUR BITCH!!"

He placed his cockhead against my anus. I was ready for him; I had lubricated my pussy when I was in the bathroom.

He worked the head inside me, paused for a brief second then lunged into me with a ferocity that took my breath away.

"OOOHHHHHH-GODDDDD-YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS... " I cried out.

He fucked me like a madman and I loved every second of it. He filled me so completely I could feel the ridges and veins of his cock on the walls of my pussy.

In-and-out-in-and-out-in-and-out-in-and-out... it went on-and-on.

I was getting close-oh so close until I felt his hand on my scrotum and he forced my balls lower in their sac and delayed my climax.

"NOOOO—NOOOO-PLEASE-I NEED TO CUM-PLEEZZZZZZZZZ... " I cried out in frustration.

"I'LL LET YOU CUM WHEN I'M READY-A FAGGOT LIKE YOU PLEASES HIS MAN FIRST!!" he roared in my face.

He fucked me harder and faster. His cock was alive inside me. I cried out with each and every thrust. Twice he fucked my breath away.

His thrusting became more urgent. He used me like a fuck-toy-I was in heaven!

My balls were aching-my climax was near. When he gave me one particularly brutal thrust and his cockhead crashed into my prostate all hell broke loose. 

My balls exploded and cum rushed out of my prick splashing on both of our chests.

"OH GOD-OH GOD-OH GOD," I shouted. "YES-YES-YES-YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS... "

He grunted and groaned then shouted his climax. His hot, viscous fluid filled my pussy. We thrashed and bucked wildly on the bed. We were covered in sweat. 

Suddenly, he took my head in his hands and kissed me full on the lips. I kissed him back as we locked into a death-grip embrace. When he was done kissing me I decided to be honest with him.

"I LOVE YOU, MIKE-I LOVE YOU, MY DARLING!!"

He never hesitated. "I LOVE YOU TOO, JOHNNY-I LOVE YOU, MY SWEET LITTLE FAGGOT!!"

I awoke with my head on Mike's chest. He was stroking my hair, and face and shoulders.

"Good morning, Sweetie!" he said with a wide smile.

I smiled back and said, Wow-that was wonderful!"

He took me in his arms and we kissed. He then guided my hand to his rock-hard cock. I lovingly caressed and stroked it.

"Where does a faggot like you belong in the morning?" he asked firmly.

"Kneeling between his man's legs," I answered, and immediately assumed the position.

I sucked him to his first orgasm of the day all the while marveling at the sweet, delicious aching sensation I still felt in my pussy from last night.

Mike spent a lot of money on my new wardrobe. Granted, most of it went for panties, negligees; red, white and black garter belts, and three pairs of sheer nylon stockings.

I thanked him with a blowjob in the front seat of the car.

When we arrived at the resort, we processed-in, and they put us together as roommates. It was a small, but cozy room. There were two twin beds that we pushed together.

We both like our jobs and co-workers, and Mike was right; the tips are fabulous!

When we have time-off we explore the Florida Keys and sometimes go into Miami. Today, we went to visit Flamingo in Everglades National Park.

When we returned we had two-hours to kill before dinner in the employee dining room. Mike laid out for me to wear: black panties, a red garter belt, black nylons and a red, babydoll nightie. It made me feel deliciously naughty.

After I blow him then lick his asshole until he is hard again, he calls me names and makes me beg him to fuck me... by that time-OH MY GOD, AM I HOT!!

We are toying with the idea, that when we leave here, we'll go to a resort in a state that has legalized same-sex marriage.

He teases me that I'll make a beautiful, blushing bride, and an excellent wife.

I smile and say to him, "Yes, I will-you can bet on it!"

*****



Dangerous Games Ch. 02



"I'm going to suuuck your juicy cuuunt."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I stood up and gathered my jacket and purse.

He held on to the stool to balance himself and staggered to the elevator.

"Deck 16, the top suuuite."

>>>>>

Suite 1601

Suite 1601 had a separate living and kitchen area. There were two bedrooms, each with its own attached bathroom. It was clear Sabrina had left in a hurry. Her shoes and clothes were all over the living room and the larger bedroom. The smaller bedroom appeared to be unused.

I excused myself to the bathroom again. Using the sound of the flush to camouflage, I purged myself again. I washed my face, released and brushed my hair. When I emerged, Miguel was snoring.

He made it so easy there was no challenge. I stripped to my waist and placed my jacket and top neatly in the living room. The metal hairclips that had held up my held were in both my palms as I neared the king-sized bed.

I climbed up the bed and sat on him before he woke.

"Hi baby," he said lazily when he saw that I was topless.

"Hey," I purred as I removed his belt, then pulled his pants to his knees. My lips touched his balls gently, arousing his cock, which slowly grew larger and sprang upward until it pointed at the popcorn ceiling like a flagpole. I let it grow inside my mouth, supporting my weight by balling my fists. My stomach pressed down on his toes and my legs were solidly planted on the thick carpet.

"Ready?" I removed his cock and asked for the last time.

"For what?" He was puzzled and narrowed his eyes, his fingers interlaced and both hands behind his head, which was supported by three pillows.

I put his cock back in my mouth and sunk my teeth on it, with the force of pit bull bite.

"What the fuck?" He grabbed my hair with one hand and was about to slap me with the other. But I was faster. I stabbed his left eye with the metal hairclip. Blood shot out of his blinded eye, the metal sticking out. I muffled his scream by suffocating him with a pillow.

He struggled but the alcohol slowed him. His lack of oxygen weakened his grip. I bit on the hand holding my hair to free myself. Then I sat on the pillow pinning down his head. When his oxygen deprivation was at a maximum, I released the pillow so he took a deep breath. He was so focused on oxygen intake he did not see that I had aimed the other metal clip directly at his remaining eye.

He was now totally blinded and helpless. All I had to do was to flip him over, knee squad on his back, then jerk and twist his neck hard to break the spinal cord.

I washed off the blood on my chest and put on my top and jacket. Then I hung the "do-not-disturb" sign on the knob when I left the room. I went to the bathroom to retrieve my gun taped under the sink.

Later, Victor would arrange for someone to enter the room and clean up. The body would be thrown overboard and never found. The job was done.

>>>>>

Victor and I were having breakfast the next morning as the ship approached Cozumel. The night before, I'd checked my accounts in Grand Cayman and had confirmed the wire payment. But the non-monetary reward was what kept me going.

"What do you have for me this time?" I speared the sausage link and inserted it halfway in my open mouth, my tongue licking it.

"Did you not like to be tied to the pool table?"

"The four-man gangbang was nice." I pushed the sausage to one side of my mouth, my upper lip rubbing the lower lip as I chewed slowly.

"So why the questioning tone?"

"You need to step it up each time or it gets old."

"You mean the element of danger needs to be more extreme to raise the temperature?" 

"I want it to be reckless. More pain equals more pleasure."

"With fear thrown in to spice it up."

"Exactly, Victor."

"Don't worry. This time you will have a nightmarish experience." He wiped his lips with the napkin, signaling he's ready to debark.

"I hope not to be disappointed."

Together with a few crew members, we were among the first to walk through customs and the duty-free store to get to downtown San Miguel. Oddly, everyone spoke English. Victor's phone vibrated. A picture and the two words Punta Morena appeared on the screen.

"Memorize the face," He passed his phone to me.

"Am I to meet him at Punta Morena beach?" I handed back the phone.

"Yes."

Victor hailed a taxi and sent me to collect my non-financial reward.

>>>>>

Punta Morena

The beach on the east coast of Cozumel was quiet and pounded by surfs. The taxi dropped me in front of the Mezcalito restaurant. The man that met me was dark skinned and a couple of inches shorter than me. His hair was jet black and curly. He had a tattoo of a gun on his neck.

"My name is Clinton. No kidding." He was cheerful but looked at me in a creepy way. I adjusted my white tube top.

"Megan." I shook his hand. His palm was sweaty.

He ordered tacos for both of us. "Enjoy your meal." He said it as if it would be my last good meal for a while. We washed it down with Tecate.

The meal cost only ten dollars. I reached for my purse on the table.

"Senorita, please do not touch your purse." He pushed aside his jacket to let me see his piece tucked into his waistband. "In case you don't know, the waiter behind you also has a gun."

Clinton was firm and no longer smiling. He paid the bill. The waiter took away my purse.

"Is he going to give it back?" I asked, pulling up my tube top again.

"Yes, after he removed the gun. You are a sneaky lady, senorita."

Like clockwork, the waiter returned with my purse in one hand and the Glock in another. He handed the purse to me and the Glock to Clinton. Clinton stuck the Glock in his waistband, next to the revolver.

"I don't like automatics," he continued. "They tend to jam and are unreliable just when one needs them."

"You mean automatics are as unreliable as men?"

My attempt at humor drew a blank stare.

"Alright, senorita. Are you ready to come with me?" He stood up and took out his revolver to make sure I knew he was not asking.

Clinton marched me to the back of the restaurant, where a white van waited. The driver stepped out as soon as he saw me. He was almost my height and had smooth brown skin. He wore a wife beater, with a tattoo of an Iguana on his shoulder. The sliding door of the van opened up at the same time. A shirtless man sprang out. His chest was inked with a large eagle holding a snake. Both men approached carefully, guns drawn, index fingers wrapped around the trigger guards. 

"Relax, amigos. She's unarmed." The cheerful Clinton waved my Glock in the air. He removed the magazine and the round in the chamber. Then he handed the empty Glock to Iguana.

There were no chairs inside the van. I was made to sit cross legged on the metal floor, my back against the cold metal sidings. Eagle sat with his legs spread, his boots touching my knees, his right index finger fully extended outside the trigger guard. He was nervous and obviously not very experienced. I could have easily knock away his gun and drive an elbow into his nose. A sudden head butt in confined space would have knocked him unconscious. But I wanted to find out what these guys were up to. I wanted to know what Victor had planned.

I was taken to Punta Molas, the northern tip of the island. My wrists were tied behind me and I was ordered to kneel on the shallow waters of the beach until the boat was ready. Both my top and denim shorts when strong surf washed ashore. Iguana shook his head, indicating I was to remain kneeling and not try to stand up.

The boat was small. We sat single file. I sat in front, my legs unable to fully stretch against the V-shaped front of the boat. Iguana sat an inch behind me, his legs straddling mine, his hands holding my roped wrists. Eagle pushed out the boat until it was knee high. He pushed up to the boat and started the engine.

The engine was loud and powerful. The small but fast boat bounced on top of the waves of Cozumel Channel like a jet ski. Tourists on pleasure crafts and water taxis waved at us. Iguana sat tightly against me to hide my roped hands. If not because I wanted to see Victor's plan, I could have screamed for help. These clowns were unprofessional and had no idea how to execute a successful abduction. I was beginning to wonder if Victor's promise of a nightmare would really come to pass.

We headed south to an isolated area of the Yucatan Peninsula. I was half dragged out of the boat and made to kneel on the rocky beach. Iguana forced my elbows together until they touched and roped it tightly, pushing out my chest. Another rope tightened around my neck and I was led like a chained animal in the rain forest.

We trekked for three miles or so at a fast pace. Hands behind me, I could not see all the time, my hair tumbling across my face. I stumbled a few times, cutting my knees, thighs, and elbows on sharp rocks. Iguana showed no mercy and yanked me up by my hair or by my roped neck. The nightmare had begun. The heat had returned.

Hours later, we arrived at what looked like a farm protected by barbed wire. Men in uniform could be seen at the gate. I was glad we were now dealing with professionals, not the raw recruits jerking the rope on my neck.

"We're here." Iguana announced as if I was blind.

The gates opened to a dozen uniformed men in AR 15 semi-automatic weapons. Iguana and Eagle were greeted warmly like brothers, with hugs and back slaps.

"Who is this fucking cunt?" The captain of the group stepped forward when all the hugs ceased, after what seemed like an hour.

"She's a whore," a man shouted.

"As you can see, she dresses like a slut." Iguana spoke as if he was making a speech. "But she is not a whore, not even a cheap whore because she can be fucked for free."

The men roared in laughter. Some of them coughed. A few clapped.

"I am not fucking her unless she begs."

More laughter.

"Make her beg." A lone voice from the back.

Iguana nodded his head and kicked me behind my knees. I lost my balance. He twisted his hands in my hair and forced me into a high kneeling position.

Humiliated and surrounded by leering men, it was at the same time erotic to have that kind of power. These hardened men were hardening between their legs because of my presence. I was sweating and my top and shorts were soaking wet in the midday sun. I was also wet because of a different kind of heat inside me.

From then on, the nightmare cranked up a notch. My tube top and shorts were ripped away in everyone's presence. I was forced to crawl on my hands and knees to the brightly lit windowless cell. Four cameras, mounted high at each corner, recorded every minute of my shameful ordeal from every angle of my hurting body. The ropes holding my arms behind were removed and my wrists cuffed to chains that hung down from the high ceiling. Telephone wires were used to tie my ankles to my thighs so I could only kneel and could not sit or stand.

Time passed, hour after hour, total silence in the sound proof and dark cell. I was given plenty of water to drink. I was not given any food or allowed any bathroom breaks. Eventually, my arms aching and bladder full, I had to pee kneeling on the floor. Before long, the cell stank.

I was bone tired and tried to sleep. But each time I nodded off, speakers mounted on the ceiling would come alive and played foreign music at ear splitting volume.

At the end of the second day or maybe third day - I had lost track of time - I was hooded and led outside through rain forests, branches cutting my naked body. I was taken to another building and questioned for hours, by interrogators sitting behind one way mirrors and scrambled voices. Sometimes, I was questioned in a kneeling position arms tied behind. Sometimes, I was standing with my arms tied above me. If they liked the answers, I was allowed to sit down tied to the chair. If they think I'm lying, I was questioned hogtied with my face pressed against the cold concrete floor.

Between the sessions, I could never predict what would happen. Sometimes, I was given food. Other times, I was tied in stress positions. Many times, I was tied in sexually humiliating positions. Starved, sleep deprived and severely disoriented, I drafted into a trance and started to hallucinate. The boundaries between my senses blurred.

Every moment in naked captivity was terrifying. But the most degrading moments were when I was taken to the basketball court. Hundreds of men without shirts would chant as I was paraded naked. Four men from the crowd would be picked each time. The degrading games would be different each time. One time, I had to suck all their cocks and make them come within one minute. If I fail, I would be gang raped in front of the cheering and leering crowd. Another time, I had to suck a man while getting my pussy pounded from behind. I could rest only if both men came at the same time.

At first, I held on to some sense of myself and told them only things I wanted them to know. But eventually, I had nothing to hold on to, no sense of dignity, no pride, not even who I was. They make me say everything I had ever done.

But one thing they never asked was anything to do with the Disney cruise. There were never any waterboarding sessions. Victor must have had spelt out the limitations of the interrogations.

In one week, I had been bombarded with endless sexual assaults, subjected to unspeakable humiliations and degradations, and sleep deprived. I was physically and mentally very weak. But I was secretly enjoying the ability to survive what few would experience. Victor had totally delivered his promises of a nightmare.

The next morning, I was allowed to take a hot shower, given a nice dress and clean underwear, and taken to see Sabrina.

Sabrina wanted to know what happened to Miguel. He had been missing for one week and she had been searching for answers.

>>>>>

To be continued ...