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The Fleeing Fucktoy

By: PulpWyatt



As I slept, the events of the previous day swarmed messily around in my head. Over and over, I saw the end of my career in the sport of slaveboy wrestling, followed by my purchase by the fan sorority and, finally, my rescue by my former rival Simon Fishback and his owner. I still had trouble believing it was all real.

I felt a soft, gentle hand caressing my cheek. Unconsciously, I grabbed it. The next moment, I felt a presence. It seemed to be everywhere at once, then concentrated on my shoulders. It was firm and smooth and warm.

"Hey, Tim?" whispered an angelic male voice.

My eyes fluttered open. In the darkness of the room, I saw Simon kneeling astride me, leaning over me with his hands on my shoulders. His manly face was set in a portrait of tempered anxiety, with his thick, straight brown eyebrows lifted well clear of his piercing brown eyes.

"Tim, are you still with me?"

"Good morning, handsome," I breathed. "What is it?"

"It's time to make our escape," he declared. "You promised."

"But... it's not time yet," I argued, my voice weak and groggy. "I've gotten half a night's sleep."

"Yeah, well, if we wait any longer, my mistress might wake up," he said, getting off me. "Now come on, get up."

With a slow groan, I drew myself up to a sitting position, threw off the covers, then hobbled to my feet. I ran my hands through my long, thin blue hair, arranging it into a semblance of order.

"Let's get some clothes on you," said Simon. "We'd never pass for freemen without clothes."

Looking at him, I suddenly realized, to my mild disappointment, that Simon was fully clothed. Pedestrian nylon pants covered his legs and his treasure, and a plain grey shirt covered his chest.

"Here," he said, as soon as I noticed this, "Put these on."

Dejectedly, I stepped into a pair of shorts on the floor, then drew them slowly up my legs. I bent over and arched my back as the waistline slid up my smooth buttocks, then settled into place around my thin waist. Then, grabbing by shirt, I very gradually slid it on.

"Going commando?" I observed, seeing the lack of underpants.

"It seemed appropriate," Simon shrugged. "Alright, are you ready for this? Remember- be as quiet as a mouse."

I nodded.

Softly, Simon drew open the door and padded out into the main room of the apartment, bare feet falling silently on the light carpet. I banked over to the door.

"Not yet," whispered Simon.

"What?"

"Get me a wad of paper towels, as big as a fist."

Giving him a strange look, I turned to the bathroom and very slowly slid the slick metal door open. Inside, I pulled the toilet paper for five revolutions, then five more. Yanking it free, I carefully folded it in on itself three times, then pressed it between my hands and crumpled it up. After a few seconds, I held up one fist and brought up the wad for comparison. Hastily, I added three more revolutions' worth of toilet paper and added it in, then skulked back out into the main room.

There, Simon waited for me, holding a coil of what looked like rigging rope.

"Okay," he mumbled, "now we're going to go in and restrain my mistress."

"We're what?!"

"Keep your voice down. And, yeah, you heard me. This rope is for tying her, that paper ball is for gagging her."

My face fell.

"I wish you had told me that," I whimpered.

"Sorry. Next time, I will. Now come on."

"Wait- what's the plan after this? So we subdue her, then what?"

"Please, let's just get her hogtied before she hears us."

"O-okay."

Turning, he made his way to the bedroom, then grabbed the handle of the door and, with tectonic slowness, slid it open.

Inside, our owner slept obliviously, her powerful body swelling and contracting under her thick covers. As we crept around her huge bed, I could feel my hands trembling. Looking over, I saw, to my amazement, that Simon was shaking, too.

"Okay, Tim," I told myself, "You can do this. She's just another opponent. Only female. And about half again your size..."

As I stopped at her bedside, across her from Simon, I closed my eyes and took three deep, quiet breaths. When I opened my eyes, I gave Simon an approving nod.

Simon held up three fingers.

I tensed up.

Two fingers.

I gripped the makeshift gag.

One finger.

With the speed of a snake, he thrust his hands under the covers, then seized his mistress' arm and yanked her towards him.

All at once, the mistress awoke, letting out a choked gasp. For that first crucial moment, she did not resist.

As Simon dragged her to the floor, I sprang into action, crawling quickly over the bed and seizing the mistress by her arms. No sooner than I had a grip on them, she stood up, brought up her foot and planted it on Simon's stomach, forcing him back. He slammed noisily into the wall behind him.

I dodged to the side as the mistress inevitably kicked behind her, aiming for my testicles. Once I had my feet back under me, I leapt onto her shoulders, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth as she staggered. The next moment, we hit the ground with me on top.

"Yeah, that's it!" said Simon. "Hold her there!"

Bracing myself, I struggled to stay astride her back as she thrashed and pulled against my grip. Just when she pulled her right wrist free, Simon seized it, pinning it with his knees and tying it tightly.

"Alright," he said, "give me the other one.

Carefully, I brought our mistress' left wrist up to the right one, shaking against her mighty resistance.

"Got it!" crowed out Simon. "I got her!"

Stepping back, Simon watched as our mistress tried and failed to separate her hands. With my weight on her lower back, she still did not bother trying to stand.

"You bastards!" she growled. "You're going to hang for this!"

"Not at your hands, we won't," said Simon, tying her ankles.

"Should I gag her now, Simon?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said, "and watch her."

As I brought the gag up to her mouth, she pursed her lips, scowling at me. I thought for a moment, stymied, then cracked a naughty smile and slapped her ass, my hand sinking easily into her soft cushion of flesh.

Her angry complexion broke, but she did not open her mouth.

With a quick whipping motion, I gave her another spank.

At the second hit, she let out a girlish yip, and in went the gag. Holding it in with one hand, I looked up, finding my partner gone.

"Simon?"

"Still here," came his voice, from a different room.

"What's next?" I asked.

"Just keep watching the mistress. Make sure she doesn't try anything."

"You promised you'd tell me what the plan was, Simon!"

There was a pause.

"Yeah, I did... okay, come on over here and I'll tell you. Just keep an eye on her."

Gently, I got up off the mistress and looked at her. Rather than struggle, she stared daggers at me. Feeling a rush of nerve, I tousled her hair, then loped off after Simon.

I found him in the computer room, pecking at a keyboard and frantically tapping a screen.

"Okay," he said, "so I'm looking for the deeds to our ownership. If I can find them, and delete them, my mistress will lose her claim to us, so there won't be an investigation. And if we can weasel our way through a rental agency, I can get us a transport to... well, to where I think the resistance is hiding. If we find them, we're home free; they can forge citizenship papers for us."

"So we'll be freemen here?"

"Of course. What else?"

"I don't know, but... just think about it. We live in a city cut off from the rest of civilization. Not hidden in plain sight, but built in the middle of the entire Pacific Ocean. We live in the only place in the civilized world where it's legal to keep slaves. We could go literally anywhere else, and our freedom would be a foregone conclusion. So why stay here?"

Simon paused his typing and looked down, his face slack with thought.

"Where would we go?" he mumbled. "This may be the city that made us slaves, but it's still home. It's all we've ever known. I can't just leave it behind. Can you, Tim?"

Now it was my turn to ponder.

"No," I finally answered.

We fell silent as the he continued his work at the computer.

"It's not here..." he mumbled.

"What?!"

"Relax, the deeds are somewhere. Look in the couch cushions, would you?"

Silently, I crept back into the main room, holding back tears of panic. Kneeling in front of the couch, I poked at each of the cushions, finding nothing suspicious. Then, as an afterthought, I lifted one up.

Sure enough, some papers hid beneath it. Eagerly, I snatched them up and examined them.

The papers were, in fact, only a single sheet, but it contained Simon's name, information and mug shot. As per the custom of this city, it was sealed in waterproof plastic.

"Hey, Simon!" I called, "I think I found it."

"What do you mean, 'you think?'"

"Well... you'd better take a look."

In a moment, Simon was next to me, staring at the paper.

"That's my deed, alright," he mumbled. "And only mine. If yours isn't here, that means she doesn't have it yet. And if your buyers were to look for you, the trail would just lead them to my mistress and that would be the end of it. They'd think she killed you or something."

"So... what do we do about this deed here? Destroy it?"

"No," said Simon, getting up. "We're going to use it."

"How?"

Simon dove into a closet, then emerged a moment later with a collar and leash.

"If we need to get past anyone," he explained, "you can pose as my owner."

I blushed.

"So..." I asked, "Can we get out of here now?"

"Almost."

"Almost?"

"First, I want to square things with my real owner."

With that, he strode back into the room with the bound mistress and pulled out her gag.

"Clara," said Simon, folding his arms. "We're getting out of here. And I don't want to disappear without explaining why we're leaving."

"You bastard," she snarled. "I gave you a good home. I treated you well. What more could you want?"

"Ask that of yourself, Clara. I want freedom."

"You're a slave. You don't deserve freedom."

"As a human being, yes, I do. I don't blame you for withholding it from me, but you shouldn't blame me for escaping. You were a good mistress, Clara, and I hope I've been a good slave. But I deserve better than servitude."

"You're still going to hang for this," she spat.

"Before Tim and I leave, is there anything you want done?"

She sat still, her eyes searing death at him.

"No, then," Simon interpreted. "Goodbye, Clara."

With only that, he took my hand and led me to the apartment door. With a quick little pull, he had the door open, and, with another, he shut it behind us. Now we stood in the silent, still, featureless hallways that connected the apartments.

"I know I've said this before," I piped up, "but... man, you have guts. I can't believe you called your mistress by her first name."

"I always do that."

"What?"

"She said I didn't need to call her 'mistress.' So I played around with a few different titles, and I eventually figured out that she doesn't like being addressed directly. I only call her 'mistress' when she's not around."

"How unusual..."

"That's not the weirdest thing about her. Now come on. We've got to get to the rental watercraft dealership before they open."

"What? Why can't we steal the mistress' boat?"

"We will. But we can only use it to get there. We need a submersible to finish our getaway."

"Why?"

"Because the resistance is hiding underwater, remember?"

With that, he led me into the lobby, where we habitually hushed our footsteps and skulked down to the front door, then out of the building.

Outside, the sun had yet to rise. Blue street lights hung on the edges of the enormous floating concrete islands that served as city blocks. Noiselessly, they cast their calm, synthetic pallor across the shining metal and glass that coated the buildings in this city. In the Venetian roads that ran between the floating buildings, blue light glinted off the crests of small waves, making the water look sharp and glassy. A subtle ambient wind blew past my face and ruffled my clothes.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" I breathed.

"No time to look. Come on, the boat's this way."

I stopped a moment and continued gazing out at the water.

"Now, Tim!"

Reluctantly, I turned and followed him down a path along a canal that led into the building's foundation. There, I saw what had to be nearly a hundred boats lined up on the edges of the pool, bobbing softly on the ripples.

Simon stopped for a moment, then started towards one of the boats, vaulting in as though he owned it.

"Is this the mistress' boat?" I asked.

"It sure is," he said, starting its engine. "And I got the keys."

I stepped in and watched as, with a victorious smile, Simon took the controls. The next moment, the boat lurched to life, and we were off.

As we glided smoothly out from the parking pool and into the watery road, I looked back and beamed.

"You did it!" I celebrated, throwing my arms around him. "You got us out of there."

"Don't thank me yet. We're still not out of the woods."

Still holding onto him, I looked out at the blue-tinted darkness and realized that now was as good a time as any to spring my burning question.

"Simon," I said, "Do you... I mean, are we... well, we've danced around this long enough- are you attracted to me?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Are you?"

"Oh, yes."

A pause.

"Okay," I said, taking my hands off him, "let me ask you something else: do you love me?"

"How can I? I've only known you for about twelve hours."

My face fell.

"Oh, Tim, I didn't mean it like that..."

I leaned in and hugged him again.

"I know it probably hasn't been long enough," I breathed, "but you've already treated me better than anyone else in my life. I've never been in love before, Simon, but I know it when I feel it."

"I'm... not sure what to say to that, Tim."

"I do. Pull over, would you?"

Simon brought the boat to a halt, his face a portrait of curiosity.

With a naughty smile, I reached over and turned his head to face me, then pressed into a kiss. My fingers curled around his shoulder as we sucked at each other, and, to my delight, he leaned into me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. Our tongues caressed each other, and, for a few blissful moments, the boat and the water and the looming city around us all melted away. All I could feel was his gentle strength.

We pulled away, and I smiled at him, managing to elicit a smirk.

Then, with a surge of boldness, I felt for his pants. Sure enough, I felt the solid curvature of his manhood beneath the cloth.

"N-not now," he vetoed.

"You hesitated."

"Yeah, I did. Look, I'd love to, really, but we've got an escape to finish. When we find the resistance, then... well, I reckon we'll need only one bed."

I grinned.

"Let's get going, shall we?" he said.

"Lead the way, cowboy."

For a few placid minutes, we rumbled speedily through the city, under arches, around buoys and through thin aquatic side streets. Then he stopped the engine and reversed it for a few seconds, bringing us drifting to a gentle halt.

"We're here," said Simon.

Ahead was a low building with a purple neon band wrapped around its roof. Unreadable cursive was plastered on the marquee, spelling something.

"What's that?" I asked. "It looks like a strip club."

"Well, it's not," said Simon. "It's a..."

He stopped.

"Hold on a second, that really is a strip club."

He stood up and looked around for a moment, then slapped his forehead.

A few minutes of boating later, we stopped again.

"Alright," said Simon. "Now we're at the sub rental."

I could see how Simon got the two buildings confused. This one looked exactly like the strip club, but with a slightly more angular marquee font and a sidewalk wrapping around its perimeter. On the far corner of this sidewalk, a pair of shadowy figures leaned casually against the wall. The telltale candescent lights of cigarettes glowed near their heads, and thin wisps of smoke rose from both of them.

"Alright," said Simon, "follow my lead."

Nimbly, he vaulted out of the boat and onto the sidewalk.

"Uh..." I hesitated, "are we going towards those two?"

"Yeah, but they've got no quarrel with us. We'll be fine."

"And... shouldn't I be in the lead? I'm supposed to be your... you know... your master."

"We won't need to do that act here. Remember, we're just passing through."

As we crept closer to the smokers, I became less sure. They were both women, dressed in only tube tops and jeans cut off halfway down the thighs. One of them had blue hair worn in a ponytail, and looked to be in her mid-twenties. The other looked a few years younger, with purple hair arranged into a bob. Seeing her, I shuddered, remembering a similar-looking woman who had been a part of the sorority that purchased me.

I could not remember if that had happened yesterday or the day before, but it seemed like weeks ago.

"What are you doin' here?" asked the blue-haired woman.

"Nothing of interest to you," said Simon. "If anyone asks, we never saw each other."

With only that, Simon turned away from them and started probing around the wall of the building, gently knocking on its walls and listening carefully for the echo. As he did, the girls whispered to one another.

"Hey, boy," smarmed the purple-haired one, "I don't think you're in any position to tell us what we saw."

Simon turned to them, the confidence draining from his face.

"Tell you what," she continued, "we'll let you go without a fight. But you have to do something for us first."

"Come on, Simon," I whispered, "we can take them."

"No," Simon forbade, speaking at normal volume. "If we start a fight, the authorities will find us. We..."

He looked uncertainly to the women.

"...we have to do what they say."

"That's better," purred Blue-hair. "Now, on your knees, both of you."

I looked to Simon one more time, and his face clearly communicated that he had no more cards to play.

With a little sigh, I looked down, then daintily lowered myself to one knee, then the other. Beside me, Simon dropped to both knees, closing his eyes in shame.

"Which one do you want?" asked Blue-hair.

"Hmm... I think I'll go with that guy. I like his long hair."

To my amazement, she was pointing to me.

"Alright, blue-haired guy-"

"Actually," I interrupted, "my name is Tim."

"Shut up and take off your shirt."

With a little whimper, I brought by hand down to the bottom of my shirt and rolled it up.

"Mm, nice," said my antagonist, looping her thumbs around the waistline of her pants. "Now..."

She slid her pants and panties off with a single movement.

"Lick me."

I hesitated, remembering my ugly experience with the sorority, and looked imploringly up to her. Seeing me, she only smirked.

"Alright," she said, "have it your way."

At that, she put a hand on top of my head and pulled me into her, pressing my nose into her femininity, smearing herself onto me.

Finally, I flicked my tongue out, letting it brush against her smooth dampness for just a moment, then retracting.

"Harder!" she snarled.

With sudden haste, I licked a few more times, changing the angle of my stroke each time. On the last pass, I flicked upward, and I felt my tongue contact the hot, hard nub of her clitoris.

Immediately, I felt her fingers quiver and tighten as she leaned into me and let out a heavy, breathy moan.

"Yeah..." she panted. "More, more, more!"

Quickly, I repeated the move, then stuck my tongue as deep into her as I could get it, feeling my saliva mix with her fluids as her walls pressed in on the sides of my tongue.

"Unhhh," she grunted. "Yeah, push harder!"

For a moment, I hesitated, then pressed against her resistant vagina for a few seconds. Sensing that it wasn't working, I pulled up and worked over her clitoris one way, then the other.


The Fleeing Fucktoy



A second hand clamped down on my head, and I felt my breathing halt as she pushed herself into me, forcing my nostrils shut.

Frantically, I worked over the warm sensitive spot with my warmer tongue, slathering it in what saliva I had left. With my lungs starting to ache, I pursed my lips around her clit and sucked.

That did it. Gripping fistfuls of my hair, she wailed out her pleasure and soaked my face, then let go of me.

I gasped for breath, sputtering under the juice.

"Oh, yeah..." she sighed. "That was good."

I smiled weakly, despite myself.

"Now," she said, "go help her."

Looking over to Blue-hair, I saw her kneeling in front of her similarly positioned captive, running her hands up and down his chest. She was drooling, and I her eyes were glued to his torso. Simon, meanwhile, tried to keep a straight face, but blushed when he saw that I was looking at him.

"Hey, pretty boy," said Blue-hair, looking at me, "Come over here."

On all fours, I crawled up to her as she pushed Simon roughly onto his back.

"Ouch!" he grunted.

Licking her lips, the woman pulled off her shorts, then her panties, before straddling his midsection. Bringing down her hand, she stroked herself a few times, biting her lip and arching her back, but always keeping her eyes trained on him.

"Come on up here and face me," she ordered.

"Me?" I sputtered. "You mean... over him?"

"Yeah. Get your ass up here."

With a genuine blush, I crawled up to Simon and knelt across his chest, right in front of the woman.

"Oh, man," she breathed, "you look nice..."

With hands as hot as stovetops, she grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pulled me into a kiss, moaning into my mouth as her tongue pillaged me. Half-consciously, I kissed her back.

Her hands ran up and down my body, eventually finding my smoothly rounded ass cheeks. She gave me a firm spank.

"Umph!" I sputtered.

She separated from the kiss, grinning lecherously, then pushed me away.

"Alright," she huffed, "time for the main event."

Saying this, she reached for her discarded shorts and fished something out of her pocket that at first looked like a candy. As she unwrapped it, however, I saw it to be a condom.

With practiced smoothness, she peeled the foil away from the condom, then shifted herself back on Simon's body, giving herself a better position to pull his pants down. The minute she did, she and I were both treated to the smooth, shapely form of Simon's erect masculinity.

"Why you little bitch," simpered the woman, "you're not wearing underpants. You wanted this, didn't you?"

Simon stared back at her with a face of stone, expertly concealing the arousal that I knew was there.

With one fluid motion, the woman got the condom on Simon, then gave his penis a few squeezes before stroking it to full rigidity. Then, with one last victorious smile, she lifted herself up over his waiting organ, then down onto it.

A grunt escaped Simon's lips, and his ferrous complexion twitched subtly, but that was all. At the same time, the woman threw her head back and sang out her pleasure. Keeping her back straight, she bucked up and down on Simon, squeezing her eyes shut as her mouth alternated between sharp gasps and deep, drawn-out moans. Her blue ponytail bobbed a fraction of second behind her bucking, but the rest of her body was perfectly coordinated. Like a fighter in the ring, every fiber of her being now concentrated on her opponent.

Simon was clearly weakening. While he still struggled to maintain his straight face, he was now panting through gritted teeth, and his eyes were losing their focus.

"Hang in there, buddy," I thought.

For what had to have been at least twenty seconds, Simon and the woman matched their endurance, each one slowly losing their composure until the woman finally began to crumble.

"Oh yeah..." she panted. "Fuck, yeah... oh yeah, bitch! UNGH!"

Snarling, she hunched her back and trembled as an orgasm rattled her body. The next minute, her arms failed her for a moment, and she fell forward onto Simon, who looked to be in scarcely better shape.

"Fuck, that was good," she breathed, getting up. "Aw, yeah... come on, Candice. Let's go home."

"You don't want to do that again?" asked the other woman.

"I'm still a little horny," replied the first. "But I'm done with these two bitches. I think I'll stop by my boyfriend for a fuck."

"Can I come, too?"

"Fuck, yeah."

"Sweet, let's go."

With that, they turned and left us on the silent, dark sidewalk. A few seconds later, a small internal combustion engine growled to life, and a propeller beat the water as the girls sailed away.

Simon groaned and sat up.

"Are you alright, Simon?" I asked. "She did quite a number on you."

"Unhh... yeah..."

Stepping forward, I took his hand and helped him up.

"Are you in good shape, Tim?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine."

"Good. Hang in there."

"Do you think we gave them a good time?"

"Doesn't matter. Now give me a boost. A think I can find us a way into the shop from up top."

"You mean you don't already know a way in?"

"Of course not. Without blueprints, there's no way to plan it."

"O-okay."

"Here, kneel down and I'll stand on your shoulders."

I got down on one knee and braced my arms against the ground.

"Yeah," said Simon, "just like that."

Carefully, he put the soft sole of his right foot on my left shoulder, then shifted his weight up to it. The next moment, he had his other leg up. I heard him straining.

"A little higher..." he wheezed.

Gently, I rose a few inches, my arms quaking. Then I felt his skin slowly lift from me.

"I'm up," he reported. "Now I'm looking for a way in."

I sat back and waited for a moment, then noticed Simon's pants on the ground in front of me.

"Hey, Simon?" I called. "Do you want your pants back?"

There was a long awkward pause, then he replied, "Yes."

Wordlessly, I passed his pants up to him, and he put them on with embarrassed promptness. A few moments later, I heard a metallic clanking sound.

"That's it!" he declared. "I've got it! I'm going in!"

"But Simon, how am I going to get in?"

"Head out front. I'll open the door for you."

Dutifully, I padded out to the front of the building, choosing to leave my shirt behind. After a moment, however, I stopped, then headed back and kicked the garment into the water; I saw no reason for it to serve as evidence.

At the front door, all I could see was Simon's stocky silhouette loping towards me inside the dark shop, followed by a clicking noise. Then the door slid aside. I ducked in, pausing a moment to shut it behind me.

"Excellent!" I celebrated. "We're in."

"Yeah," he dismissed, jogging with me into the interior of the cluttered building. "Now help me find some pass codes. Any of them should do. I don't think they have any non-submersible watercraft here, and we only need it for-"

There was a banging at the door, followed by, "Open up! It's the police!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

"What do we do?" I gasped.

The glass in the front of the shop shattered. Reflexively, I ran into the back of the shop, diving behind a reception desk.

For a few seconds, I crouched there, listening.

"You!" shouted a loud female voice. "What are you doing?"

A single pair of hard boots stomped authoritatively into the shop, then stopped. I could hear Simon breathing quickly.

I had to help him. As a combination of scuffling and grunts came from the other side of the desk, I skulked around it as quickly as I dared, then stood up behind the policewoman. She was at least a head taller than Simon, and she was wrestling him and winning.

With a little shout, I sprang onto her back and trapped her in a headlock, wrapping my legs around her lower torso. For just one moment, she staggered, then made the mistake of removing one hand from Simon.

Simon delivered a lightning-fast punch to her stomach, then grabbed her bust and shoved her back.

"Ow!" I yipped, as I cushioned her landing.

Before either of us could react, Simon leapt on top of us and pinned the policewoman's limbs down.

"Tim, you okay?" he asked. "Get out of there!"

As the policewoman thrashed and fought under Simon's tough grip, I pushed back against the smooth tile floor, grunting and kicking before finally pulling myself out from under her.

"Now get a rope!" said Simon. "Or something! I don't care, just hurry!"

I scrambled into the darkness of the back of the shop, finding a garage equipped with a full array of tools. Frantically, I scanned across the racks on the walls, the toolboxes on the floor and the chest in the corner, before I finally found an industrial rope.

"I have it!" I declared, running back, "I've got it, Simon, right here!"

"Great!" said Simon. "Put it down and grab her arms."

Quickly, I did so, then straddled the policewoman and seized her wrists, holding them up as Simon brought up the rope.

"Wait," he hesitated. "Bring these to her feet. I've got a better idea."

At this, the woman's legs started kicking. Effortlessly, Simon held them down, then set to work, tying the woman's right wrist to her right ankle and her left wrist to her left ankle.

"Alright, get off," he authorized. 

I stood up and stepped back, standing next to Simon as we admired our handiwork. At our feet, the immobilized policewoman had stopped struggling. Rolling on her back like a rocking horse, with her legs spread and scrunched up to meet her wrists, she stared at us with murder in her eyes.

"You punks are going to regret this," she snarled. "When they catch you, you're going to be put away for a long time. How's that sound? Getting thrown in with all the horny faggots?"

Simon and I looked to each other.

"Sounds good to me," he shrugged. "Tim, keep looking for that thing we were looking for."

I nodded.

"As for you, officer..."

I searched for a few seconds, then stopped. Unable to resist, I turned and watched Simon.

Over in the main room, Simon took a knife from somewhere and cut off the excess length of rope from one of the woman's bonds, then grabbed a pole that had thick bolts stuck the side of each end. After a trip to the garage, he had the bolts out.

As the woman watched, her face showing perverse fascination that mirrored my own, Simon slipped the industrial rope through the bolt holes in the pole, then tied one of the ends around her ankle.

"Don't you dare!" she spat.

"Too late, I already dared. Now hold still or I'll gag you."

With that, he grabbed her other ankle and wrestled it into the loop on the other side of the makeshift spreader bar. With that, he grabbed her by the back of her jacket and flipped her over onto her shins, her chin pressed against the floor and her ass up.

With a barely perceptible smirk, he grabbed her pants. Looping his thumbs around the waistline, he tugged them down an inch, exposing just a sliver of a lovely posterior. Then, with a violent tug, he pulled them free, exposing the gentle lobes of her ass and her pussy, spread helplessly for our viewing pleasure.

"You little bitch!" she screeched. "I'm gonna- UMPH!"

Before she could finish, Simon jammed a spare length of rope into her mouth, then tied it there. With a dark little chuckle, he came back to her ceremoniously presented ass and ran his hand up and down it for a few seconds. Then, with a whip of his arm, he spanked her.

The woman let out an impotent little squeal, and her whole body bucked under his strike, then settled back into position. The next moment, he repeated the strike, causing her ass to jiggle as she lurched again.

"One last thing," he announced, getting up.

A few seconds later, he returned with a permanent ink marker. Pulling off the cap with a pneumatic pop, he revealed the marker's moist, ready tip, then pressed it to the skin of her ass and started writing

She let out a shivering moan.

"My, my, listen to you," Simon taunted. "You were so scary with your clothes still on. But with your ass in the air like this, you're just a helpless little bitch girl, aren't you?"

"HHHMPH!" she protested.

"I agree; you do deserve another spanking. Unfortunately, I don't have the time for that, so I'm going to have to trust that little duty to whoever finds you first."

With a grandiose flourish, he pulled away the marker and sheathed it. For a moment, he enjoyed the view, then finished off with a few parting slaps straight to her pussy.

"Tim," he addressed, his voice rising slightly. "Have you found the codes yet?"

I stared back at him blankly.

"Tim," he accused, "how long have you been sitting there?"

"Um... the whole time?"

He slapped his forehead.

"Sorry," I hastily apologized, "I'll get back to looking. I already tried the cash register, but I bet it's in the warehouse."

"Have you checked the computer?"

"No. I figured they'd keep a physical copy somewhere."

"I'll check the computer. Go look in that warehouse and yell if you find anything."

Nodding, I turned to the back of the store and pulled open the door, finding a cornucopia of nautical machine parts all packed into a room the size of an average pantry.

"Whoah..." I breathed.

"Got 'em!" yelled Simon.

"What? Already?"

"Yeah," said Simon, bounding excitedly back. "E522. That's the code to a twin-prop sub with seats for four. It'll do just fine."

"Great!" I said, "Where is it?"

Simon stopped.

"That's a good question..."

Looking back into the parts pantry, I saw a ladder leading down.

"It's not down here, is it?" I conjectured.

"Worth a look, at the least," Simon shrugged.

Saying this, he stepped up to the ladder, then braced his hands and feet against the sides and slid down.

"It's here!" he called back, his voice echoing a little. "They're all down here! Come on, ours is just a little bit this way!"

Infected by his excitement, I hurried down the ladder, landing in a dark, cramped metal hallway lit only by feeble diodes. With those, and its many dials and screens on the walls, this corridor looked like the insides of a spaceship from an old science fiction movie. The sudden, deep silence- and the lack of windows- indicated that we were now underwater. Simon was in front of me, crouching so that his head wouldn't hit the ceiling. He grinned from ear to ear.

Without a word, he turned around and skipped alacritously down the hall, his bare feet reverberating softly on the metal grating that covered the bottom of the watertight chamber. A few seconds later, he slid to a stop at a narrow doorway that rotated open to reveal another ladder, which he quickly jumped down, forgoing the rungs altogether. Without looking, I followed him.

When I landed, I was next to him, inside an ovoid bubble that was eight feet tall and twice as long. Its thick, transparent surface gave us an unmitigated view of the ocean outside, stretching beneath us into darkness. Above us, the looming hull of the submersible dealership shaded us, blotting out most of our view above. To our sides, we could see the twin fuselages of our submersible, each of which ended in a hefty caged propeller. Beyond them, other submersibles hung from the catwalk beneath the shop.

"Let's get ready to rumble!" I declared, dropping into the pilot's seat.

"Not yet," said Simon, climbing down into the foot well. "If we don't disable the tracking beacon, they'll know where we're going."

"Oh..."

"But find the ignition for me, would you?" he added, opening a compartment with a screwdriver. "We can't take off yet, but at least we can get the engines revved up."

"Aye aye, cap'n," I accepted.

"You're cheerful all of a sudden," Simon noted.

"Why not?" I returned. "We're getting away. I didn't dare believe it before, but we're actually getting away."

"Now, remember, we're not out of the woods yet."

"I know, I know, but... this is at least a lot farther than I thought we'd get."

"Fair enough."

"So thank you."

Simon stopped working and gave me a serious look.

"Thank me?" he echoed. "For what?"

"Most of this, I'd say. I helped you take down Mistress Clara and that policewoman, but you planned out this whole escape, and you did most of it."

For just one moment, Simon's face fell slack, processing this.

"Well... thanks, Tim," he said, finally. "I'm... I don't really know what to say. Except that I couldn't have done it without you."

"Really?"

"Really. Otherwise, I would have tried it a long time ago. But now, I'm glad that I didn't."

"Oh, Simon..."

Simon chuckled, blushing visibly.

"Look, let's just get to safety," said Simon. "We're not getting any younger, and if Clara got herself free, she'll be after us like hounds. But this'll lose her."

"Okay. How long do you think it'll take to disable the tracking de-"

"Got it!"

I looked down at him, half-expecting a joke, only to see him holding a small electronic device with a victorious expression on his face.

"It's disabled," he added. "So come on. Let's fire this bad boy up."

Grasping the control sticks, I squeezed the trigger on the left, then turned and watched as the left propeller rumbled to life. With a grin, I revved the left engine, listening as it roared vivaciously, pushing back exhaust bubbles in its violent backdraft. Keeping the left trigger down, I turned to the right and slowly brought the right engine up to speed, rattling the cockpit with its vibrations.

With both propellers churning, I applied the cruise control, reached down and disengaged the latches with a muffled, industrial rattling noise. As soon as our sub was free, the vibrations ceased, and I felt a sudden levity as we began to sink.

Pushing the sticks forward, I sent us down into the maritime abyss, watching with awe as the grim pillars of the skyscrapers' suboceanic floors seemed to rise around us. Thrilled, I leveled us out and pulled us into a tight bank, then into a spiral.

"Easy, there," said Simon.

"Aw, can't a guy have a little fun?" I pouted.

"Let's finish our escape. Then I'll show you a little fun."

I looked over to him, seeing him giving me the bedroom eyes.

"Are you... are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Get us to the resistance, and we'll only need one bed tonight."

"Wonderful!" I celebrated. "And... uh... where is the resistance, exactly? You said they were supposed to be down here, so..."

"Yeah, you're going the right way. Rumor has it they're at the ocean floor."

"Rumor? We're here because of a rumor?"

"Yes."

"But... but... what if it's false?"

"That would be a setback, but we'd still be in good shape; we've got an off-the-grid submersible and no one's onto us yet."

I looked ahead again, my confidence drained. I tried to focus on the soothing, gently rumble of the engines, but the precariousness of our gambit suddenly refused to be ignored.

"I see something," said Simon.

"What?"

"See that up ahead?"

I squinted into the darkness ahead.

"Whoah..." I gasped. "It's a whale!"

"That's no whale. That's a submarine. The rumors said that the resistance has a submarine that they use as a mobile command center."

"How do you know all this? Who told you?"

"Someone at an auction once. It was a long time ago, and I truly don't remember if she was a slave or not. But she seemed pretty sure of herself. Time to see if she was right, eh?"

"Yeah... 'if'..."

For a few more seconds, I pursued the ominously smooth, black cylinder that drifted silently through the waters beneath us, then we heard a voice.

"Unidentified watercraft, state your name and business."

"What's that?" I gasped.

"It's the radio," said Simon. "They're trying to figure out who we are."

"What are we going to tell them?"

"The truth."

Simon cleared his throat.

"Submarine," he said, speaking loudly and clearly. "This is the unidentified watercraft. We're here seeking refuge."




The Fleeing Fucktoy



"Do you have business with the resistance?" said the voice.

Simon and I traded affirmative glances.

"Yes," Simon continued, "we do. We're runaway slaves. I'm Simon Fishback, and Slim Tim is in here with me."

"Roger that. The upper-aft vehicle bay is coming open. Proceed calmly in and shut off your engines. If you try anything suspicious, you will be met with force."

"Fair enough. Take us in, Tim."

A pair of doors opened in the back of the submarine, and light poured out, clearly signaling a landing zone. With shaking hands, I brought us down and in, very carefully reducing the throttle all the while. Once were in the bay, squinting against the sudden white light, I reversed the engines for a split second, then shut them down. The next moment, we landed on the bay floor with a disconcerting thunk. Behind us, huge motors whirred, and the doors swung shut. The boom of an air pump echoed through the flooded chamber, and the water level started to go down.

"We're here," I breathed, as the water level drifted down around us. "I can't believe it. We're here."

"Let's go meet the natives," said Simon, opening the hatch. "Are you excited?"

I was silent. Simon placed his hand gently on mine.

"Don't be nervous," he calmed. "I've got your back."

"Thanks, Simon."

Intrepidly, he flipped open the hatch and extricated himself from the watercraft, followed by me.

No sooner than my feet hit the ground, four tough-looking figures in armor came tromping into the room, their body armor clanking with plastic hollowness. They pointed submachine guns at us.

"Hands up, slowly," commanded one of them.

"Do as they say," said Simon, putting his hands up.

"But Simon," I protested, even as I did the same, "I just realized: what if this is a trap?"

"Nothing we can do about it now."

Simon's voice had remained rock-solid as he said this, but I could tell he was feeling a pang of panic.

"We're not a decoy," said one of the soldiers. "This is not an arrest. This is a security measure. If you people were sleeper agents, you wouldn't be the first."

"I understand," said Simon.

"Yeah," I added. "You can't be too careful... I guess."

"Come with us," said the soldier.

Two of the soldiers got behind us, and the leading two led us through an airlock into a lavishly tall and well-lit hallway. Some distance into this corridor, they let their guns down, all at once.

"Alright, that's good," said the leader. "Welcome to the resistance."

"What?" I sputtered. "You trust us now?"

"There were scanners in the entryway back there," explained the soldier, "and we have technicians searching your vehicle as we speak."

"Wow."

"Now, we're going to take you to some private quarters. You can spend the rest of the day there if you like, or you can explore the sub. We'll have certificates of citizenship waiting for you first thing next morning."

"I admire your efficiency," said Simon.

"We've done this a lot before," said the soldier. "And, from one former slave to another, I admire your courage in escaping."

"Thanks."

"In fact, your quarters are right here. If you need anything, just go to the help desk. There are enough people around that you can ask directions and they'll point you there."

"Thanks again," said Simon.

"Wait," I arrested, "there's an entire help desk just for a submarine?"

"This is a huge submarine," said the soldier, walking away. "I don't know if you noticed this on your approach, but she has five decks."

I whistled, then followed Simon into the room.

Inside, the room was small- perhaps only fifteen by ten feet- but furnished adequately. Two bunks hung on the far wall, and a writing desk with a stable-looking chair filled up the rest of the room. As Simon maneuvered past this, I got an idea.

"Hey, Simon," I breathed, grinning playfully, "I think you've got a promise to fulfill now."

Simon stopped for a moment, then realized what I was referring to. A look spread over his face that mirrored mine.

"Take off your shirt," he ordered.

With a little purr, I locked the door behind me and curled my hands around the bottom of my shirt and slowly pulled it up, revealing my athletic physique one inch at a time. Once I had it over my shoulders, I tossed it away with a dramatic flourish.

"Now come over here," said Simon.

Sultrily, I padded over to him, then fell into his firm grip. Gently, he turned me around and sat me down on the lower bunk. With that same confident care, he pried my legs apart, then worked my pants down past my knees.

Very slowly, he brought up his right hand and took my cock between his thumb and forefinger, swinging it up and down for a few seconds, watching it harden.

"What do you say?" he asked, bringing up his mouth.

"Go for it," I moaned.

I closed my eyes, and, the next moment, he took me into his mouth, enveloping my hardening manhood in his warm, wet mouth, his lips sealing tightly against my soft skin.

I let out a staggering sigh as I felt his suction pulling on my masculinity. My eyes rolled back, and I nearly fell backward, bracing myself with my hands. My jaw fell slack and my breathing came in uneven gasps.

Down below, Simon continued enthusiastically, his lips rolling up and down my shaft at just the right speed. Every muscle in my body tightened.

"Oh... S-Simon..." I huffed. "Here it comes!"

Simon took a quick breath through his nose, then sucked harder with his mouth, sending me over the edge. All at once, my cock went from feeling stiff to brittle as my balls tightened and throbbed, then I felt something surging down my shaft.

For a few moments, I lost feeling, then I opened my eyes to see Simon wipe his mouth and smile at me.

"Did you like that?" Simon panted.

"Y-yes," I shivered. "Oh, Simon, that was wonderful."

Simon stood up, pride written all over his face.

"Now take off your pants," I told him. "It's your turn."

"What?"

"Oh, don't tell me you weren't hoping I'd say that."

Simon hesitated a moment, then started to slither down his pants.

"Wait," he said, "I've got an idea. Stand up."

I stood up off the bed, and, the minute I was on my feet, he put his hands on my shoulder and pushed me down onto my knees. Then, with speed I had never seen outside of the fighting ring, he pulled off his pants and wheeled around behind me. The next moment, I felt thin cloth of his pants tightening around my wrists.

"Ooh," I cooed. "Do you like bondage?"

"I never used to..."

Simon got in front of me again and grabbed my chin, pulling me up to face him.

"Yeah," he finished. "I do now."

His hand went down to his cock, and I watched every squeeze and stroke as he slowly coaxed it to stiffness.

"Are you ready for this?" he teased.

"Oh, yes."

"Alright. You don't have to swallow if you don't want to."

With only that, he wrapped a hand around the back of my head, ruffling my hair, and pulled me onto him.

I felt him enter me, and, suddenly, he seemed to be everywhere at once. Unable to bring my arms up, I took a deep breath through my nose and gave his cock one good suck. His fingers twitched, and I could sense a little pulse go coursing through him.

Emboldened, I kept up the suction, letting him push me up and down on his shaft as he saw fit, his hand getting less and less steady.

For a fraction of a minute, I kept him hot and firm, sucking as hard as I dared. Then, once I could sense him regaining his composure, I upped the pressure, giving him long, hard gulps. With each one, I felt him bend over and grunt through gritted teeth.

For almost five seconds, he teetered on the edge, then, at last, I pulled him over. I felt him tighten up all at once, then something sticky filled my mouth from the inside, flooding into me in waves. For just a moment, I wanted to spit it out, then I relaxed and swallowed.

I spent one more moment latched around his slowly shrinking cock, then finally disengaged and looked up at him.

"That was amazing," he gasped. "But you know you didn't have to swallow, right?"

"Yeah," I giggled, "I know."

"Aw, Tim..."

He leaned down and puckered his lips.

"Wait!"

He stopped.

"Let's postpone the kiss until we brush our teeth."

"Hm. Good call. Let's get you untied."

"No need to hurry," I assured.

He looked back at my playfully, and I returned him with an easygoing smirk.

For a couple of seconds, he stood there, admiring my bound form, before finally reaching forward and untying his pants from around my wrists.

"Come on," he said, helping me up, "let's go find a bathroom."

"What? You want more?"

"No, to find some mouthwash."

"Oh... of course."

"Why you little... You're still horny, aren't you?"

I nodded shyly.

"Well, maybe I'll be up for some more fun tonight. But for now, I'm all spent."

"Okay."

Still bathed in afterglow, I followed him out of our room and into the hallways. As we walked, I caught up to him and walked beside him.

"That was fantastic," I marveled.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Not just back there," I clarified. "I mean this whole day. I'm so glad we made it. I'm so glad we decided to get away in the first place. And I'm so glad I kept my promise to you."

"So am I, Tim. So am I."