Bara

Dreams

Martin clambered wearily up the stairs to bed, glad that another boring day of tedium was over. Retirement was not what it was cracked up to be. It was partly his fault. He could get out more, make new friends but it was all too much effort.

He was gay and too fond of boys to have considered marrying. Nowadays he considered his chances of finding like minded individuals for companionship too remote to bother. He would be content with someone who he could just chat with but they were still hard to find.

Then there was his arthritis. Just getting dressed was an effort. Walking as far as the park was a struggle. After a life in low paid jobs trying to make ends meet he was tired of taking on the world.

He was depressed, feeling that he had wasted his life achieving nothing. All he looked forward to was the oblivion of sleep, where he could escape for a few hours.

He finished his nightly routine and clambered into bed, allowing his eyelids to droop as sleep overtook him.

***

Suddenly he was wide awake but everything was different. Even before he opened his eyes he groaned with the pain. It was not the ache of stiff joints that he was used but the agony of a bruised and battered body.

He opened his eyes just in time to see a massive hand swinging down towards his face.

"You fucking will fucking learn to keep fucking quiet, you fucking cunt," a voice snarled.

He would have cried out but he felt a voice, asking, no begging him to keep quiet. The voice came from somewhere inside his head and he also felt the sheer terror surrounding it.

He did his best to comply and apparently he satisfied his tormentor who walked away, out of the room, footsteps fading on the stairs. The man must have been twelve feet [3½ m] tall, at least.

I don't like this dream. He thought to himself as he felt the voice again, begging Martin to help it.

He glanced down at his body. Startled he looked again, more carefully. It was not the fact that he was naked, nor the bruises, cigarette burns nor his red swollen penis that had startled him.

It was the smooth, hairless skin over a slim but undefined body. He looked again at his cock. It was small and undeveloped. He was looking down at the body of a ten year old boy, crouched down, huddled in a corner.

Maybe he is just a normal man, after all, he thought to himself.

"No! He sees everything and knows everything we do," he felt the voice. The voice was still scared but it was calmer and seemed to be fading almost as if it had found a hiding place and wanted to keep away from the horrors of the outside world.

Martin looked around the room. It was a full blown dungeon. Chains and manacles hung everywhere. A table that looked more like a rack stood in the middle of the room. The walls were covered in a display of whips, belts, straps and what Martin took to be cattle prods.

Cautiously standing, he looked around again, ignoring the pain from scars and burns on his feet.

Across the room was a cell embedded in the wall. Locked in by the metal barred gate, a naked youth of about thirteen looked fearfully out. His muscles were developing nicely and he had a flat stomach with the beginnings of a six pack. His cock was nicely in proportion to his body though it was pushed impressively outwards by a large cock ring.

It was the eyes that held Martin's attention. They were dull and lifeless as if the boy was miserably awaiting his fate.

There was a table in the corner. On it, stood a bottle marked chloroform, others with names that he did not recognise, video equipment and a strange looking device that again, he did not recognise.

He did not feel a voice this time but instead a memory of tremendous agony connected to electricity.

He began to study the dungeon even more closely, looking for cameras and microphones. Even with his new boy eyes he could not see any. There was no ventilator grill or any other place where a camera could be concealed but he had no doubt that there was one.

He crossed to the table and picked up the device. He could see the electrodes now as well as the on switch which he pressed. An amber light marked charging came on. He could not see any safety catch.

"Enjoying your fucking self?"

Martin spun round. He forgot his new body and nearly overbalanced as the man approached him. Martin fought the terror that was enveloping him and the impulse to throw the stun gun down.

In spite of it all he managed to aim at the man who crumpled, convulsive tremors racking his body as he fired. Still fighting the blind panic he grabbed some open handcuffs lying on the bench and slipped one on the man's wrist.

Martin tried rolling the man over but a ten year old could not manipulate the man so easily. Checking that the stun gun was recharging, Martin finally managed to hook the other cuff around the table leg. Looking around he saw another pair of cuffs and locked it onto the same wrist.

He waited patiently until the man began to recover his senses.

"You're fucking going to be fucking sorry when I fucking get my fucking hands on you," the man snarled.

"How many times can I use this on you, before I kill you?" Martin asked as calmly as he could. Even so, his voice sounded like a squeak but then he grinned. At ten years old, it was allowed to be.

"Sit up. Lean against that table leg and put your hands behind your back with your wrists together."

"Fuck you," the man snarled, "That's what I'm fucking going to do before I ram the largest fucking dildo I've got up your arse. You'll fucking wipe that fucking grin off your face when I split you in two."

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six," Martin said.

"What?" the man snapped.

"Five, four."

Martin made a show of tightening his grip on the stun gun and wrapping his finger round the trigger. The man got the message and manoeuvred himself into the position that Martin had ordered.

Enjoying his new agility Martin slipped under the table and finished cuffing the man.

"You're getting the idea," Martin said, "You've got three more mistakes before I stun you again. Just to make sure you understand, no speaking unless I ask you a question, no swearing when you do have permission to speak and if I tell you to do something, you do it immediately."

The man remained silent though the fury in his eyes made Martin hesitate worriedly. He recovered and looked at the man.

He had obviously gone to shower. He now only wore a towel and his hair was wet. Martin had not heard him because he had padded down the stairs in his bare feet. He carefully leant over and pulled at the knot holding the towel. It fell away so that the man was completely naked and the towel lay like a mat on the floor.

The man was muscular, obviously spending time at the gym. He had a little hair on his chest with a trail leading down his stomach to a mass of spreading pubic hair. His cock did not seem particularly large to Martin, especially when compared to some of his lovers but it must have seemed huge to the boy he was inhabiting.

He collected a roll of duct tape that he had seen on the table, some rope looped over a hook and a cattle prod. He checked that it worked properly then rested it on the man's cock.

"Sit up as straight as you can, with head as high as possible," Martin commanded.

The man obeyed as Martin ran the tape round his neck and the table leg. It would not choke him unless the man struggled but the man could not slump down again.

Martin slipped under the table again and looped the rope through the man's arms and behind the leg, pulling it as tight as possible. The man's elbows were pulled back and together as his hands were pulled upwards.

Martin looked round again and smiled. He attached the spreader bar that he had found to the man's ankles and then showed him the parachute. The man began to speak but stopped when Martin glanced at the stun gun. He meekly allowed Martin to fix the parachute around his balls and then the short chain to the spreader bar which left him with his legs bent double.

Satisfied that his prisoner was secure, he turned his attention to the youth.

"Whose side are you on?" Martin asked, "His or mine?"

The boy stared at him, too scared to answer.

"OK," Martin tried again, "Is he your friend?"

"No… sir," the youth replied.

"Is he training you?"

"No sir."

"What is he doing to you? Why are you here?"

"He's going to torture me then kill me like he's doing to you, sir, but you know that."

Martin felt sick as powerful memories of a boy screaming for mercy, invaded his consciousness. The ever present terror increased as well.

"Humour me," Martin said, "So how come I was free?"

"To show me how he's broken you, he's making me watch him so I know what's going to happen to me."

The boy paused, "But he hasn't broken you, has he?"

Martin grinned.

"No and he's my prisoner now," he said, "The question is, what happens now? I suppose I should call the police."

"Yes sir," the boy said, "I suppose you should."

"You don't sound very keen on the idea."

"It's just that I'll have to go back to my parents. They don't like me being gay so they'll send me back to that school which tries to cure me."

"Go on."

"I ran away. A boy gave me shelter then told me about him. He said that he was kind and would help me out. I thought he was still being kind when he gave the boy some money."

A similar story wafted through Martin's mind only there was something about abusive and violent parents.

"What's your name?" Martin asked.

"David," he replied, then seeing Martin continue to stare added a nervous 'sir'.

He was considering letting the boy out of the cell. A trusting, strong impulse to do so emanated from his body, but his own experiences warned him to be cautious. People were seldom what they seemed.

"Are you hungry, David?" Martin asked, "Thirsty?"

"Yes sir," David replied.

"I'll be back shortly," Martin said, "In the meantime, think about my first question. Whose side are you on and who's in charge, now?"

Martin padded away up the stairs. At the top he saw a passage leading to the front door. His youthful side desperately tried to get him to run but his older more rational side was confident that he was safe for now.

He carefully explored the house building up a picture of his prisoner as a slovenly, disorganised man with little or no interest in anything except for his dungeon. It was the tidiest part of the house which made sense if it was where his main interest lay. It seemed to Martin that he only kept himself fit for his activities down there.

His general untidiness probably explained why he had been stupid enough to leave the stun gun lying around.

There was a desk in the corner of the sitting room on which stood a laptop. Martin had been on a computer course in the hope of getting a decent job. Although he had picked up the theory no one would employ him because he had no experience. By the time he got some he would have been on the point of retiring. He had saved to get himself a machine, he helped his few friends and neighbours when their machines started playing up and so he had remained proficient with them.

He booted up the laptop. He browsed around the files and found a document called Passwords.doc. Opening it, Martin found a list of every password that the man used. Glancing down on the desk, Martin even found a printout of the list.

Martin accessed the first of the banks listed and whistled. The man was loaded. Leaving the computer he searched the desk. He found the house documents, letters to a stockbroker. In a few minutes, he had access to the man's entire life.

Returning to the laptop, he found video and images of a string of boys in the cellar. The fear and distress increased as he tried to open them.

"Don't worry," he said, trying to be reassuring, "It's all over now. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

He only looked at one was nearly sick as a Stanley knife sliced the victims stomach. He hurriedly switched off.

He settled down as he began putting the papers into some sort of order and his ten year old stomach began rumbling. Kids are always hungry, he thought and was rewarded with the sense of a cheeky grin and a feeling of happiness for the first time.

He headed for the kitchen and began preparing a pile of sandwiches from the surprisingly well stocked fridge.

He thought about grabbing some beers but thought better of it. Instead he made do with a carton of milk.

Back in the dungeon he put some of the sandwiches on a plate and slid them through a slot at the bottom of the cell door.

David knelt down with his hands behind his back.

"Use your hands, David," Martin said, "You're only a prisoner because I'm sure you'd resent being ordered around by me."

David grinned, knelt up, grabbed a sandwich and ate hungrily. He was a little nervous when Martin passed a cup of milk through the bars but relaxed as Martin drank his own.

Both boys were starving and the food was soon gone. It had been years since Martin had been able eat so much food in one go and he enjoyed the experience.

"I'll have a go at cooking us some steaks, later," Martin said, "I've got some work to do, first."

"Yes sir," David said, "Thank you."

Martin turned to the man.

"So, you're Craig Olson. You're thirty five," Martin said, "You inherited a fortune from your parents and live on the interest."

Martin picked up the roll of duct tape and wrapped Craig's shins to his thighs.

"After I've told you what's going to happen, I'm sure you're going to lose those last few points," Martin continued, "I didn't want you to kick your balls off when I stun you."

Craig was beginning to show real fear now. He did not know how but he was sure that he was about to lose everything to a ten year old boy.

"I promise you this," Martin said quietly but clearly enough so that David could hear as well, "If you cooperate and do as you're told, you won't be tortured any more than is necessary."

Martin picked up the cattle prod and pressed it against the inside of Craig's thigh before pressing the trigger. Craig screamed in pain.

"I hope you don't cooperate," Martin said, "I'll enjoy doing a little of what you did to those other boys."

"Please," Craig begged, "We can make a deal."

"Two," Martin replied, "When I go back upstairs, I'm going to transfer all your money to a friend's account. I'm going to print some blank documents which you will sign. It doesn't matter what they're for. It's no longer any of your business.

"By the end of the day, the only thing you'll have is that final demand from the Inland Revenue. My friend will of course declare his 'lottery win' so they won't go after him. I don't know what I'm going to do to you yet but you won't be touching kids again."

"I should point out that I'm sending my friend two codewords. One means that all's well and the other means send help fast. Only he and I will know which is which."

Martin paused.

"I'm not sure what's going happen to David and me," he continued, "The possibility I like best is that you sell this house to my friend for, say, a penny. He then moves in and looks after us.

"You may ask one question. Don't waste it."

"What happens to me then?" Craig asked.

"I don't know yet but don't expect much," Martin replied, "Not after what you've done to those other kids. If we have to involve the authorities then we'll have to say that we tied you up to escape and then we were so scared we hid for a month. Don't worry, you'll be dead from thirst in a few days. You won't endure the full month down here alone."

Craig's eyes widened in terror. He was sure that the boy was deadly serious and it was the sort of punishment that he would use.

"What did you do with the bodies?" Martin asked.

"I took them out in my boat and dropped them overboard. I thought about burying them in the grounds but there's always a chance they could be found."

"Makes sense," Martin replied.

He turned to David. "No one else will be killed or tortured here. I didn't fancy living over a pile of bodies though. That's why I needed to know what happened to them."

David had spent his time psyching himself up to accept the agonising death that was to come. He was just beginning to believe that it was not going to happen. It would be weird accepting a ten year old boy as his master but he was impressed with the planning. It gave him hope for the future, something that he had not known for a long time.

"Yes Master," he replied, "Don't worry about your slave. He'll be ready to serve you when you need him."

Martin nodded and headed back to the kitchen to prepare more sandwiches before taking half of them back to David with more milk and taking the rest with him back to the laptop.

The presence he felt dozed contentedly in its hiding place. It was the best way he could describe the sensations that seeped into his consciousness. He worked steadily. As best as he could tell he had arrived in this body during the early morning. By the time he had finished, the body was beginning to feel tired. Again there was this mixture of youthful energy and lifelong experience which had worked the physical brain in this strange relationship harder than he would have thought possible.

He felt an urge to rush outside, climb the nearest tree or kick a ball as far and as hard as he could.

He resisted the impulse because he was not sure how long he would be there and there was still work to do. The presence was getting stronger and the body belonged to it. Martin was just an interloper that might be kicked out at any moment.

He coded the documents, converted the text to white except for the code and the place where Craig had to sign, printing out what appeared to be blank sheets of paper. Later he would reverse the text colours and print the documents again.

Back down in the dungeon, David looked far more relaxed and confident. To show his respect for Martin, he stood with his feet apart and his hands behind his head.

Craig looked worried and sullen. Martin could still see the fire in his eyes and knew that his prisoner had not given up yet.

Just in front of the cell, an eye bolt was embedded in the ceiling. Searching the house he found a step ladder and using it to reach bolt he threaded a length of rope through it and tied it into a loop. He tried to swing from it. It took his weight without a problem.

He looked at David.

"I want to see if it'll take both our weights," he said, "But you'll have to be restrained."

"Yes, Master," David dutifully replied.

He stood at the cell door while Martin handcuffed him and shackled his ankles. Craig had told Martin where the key was without losing any more points. This was the dangerous moment for Martin. Even shackled as he was, David could probably overpower Martin but he meekly shuffled over to the loop, raising his hands ready for Martin to secure them.

While Martin had been working upstairs, Craig had whispered all sorts of promises in return for help to escape. He sounded convincing and David might have agreed, trusting the adult over the child. However, images of Craig's treatment of the younger boy were burned into his mind. It was what Craig had intended but instead of crushing David they reminded him of who Craig really was.

He understood Martin's caution and complied with what seemed to be a young boy's instructions without complaint. In fact, as Craig's desperation increased, while Martin stayed calm and confident, he felt his cock twitch at the possibilities in the current situation.

Martin was pleasantly surprised at David's compliance as he tied the cuffs to the rope. David was the sort of boy that Martin loved; freshly ripened, he would say.

"Excuse me, Master," David said, "Are you planning to chain him to that hook?"

Martin nodded.

"Why don't you just put him into the cell?" David asked.

"Because if I built a cell like that, I'd have a secret lock I could use if I got trapped."

"Oh!"

"I need him secure enough to free one hand."

"I have an idea, Master," David said and hurried to a cupboard to fetch an iron bar with a selection of manacles attached.

"That'll work," Martin said, "Now how do we secure him without giving him a chance to escape?"

David shuffled over to the table and picked the chloroform together with some rag and the stun gun setting them on the table above Craig's head.

David next fetched a hoist like garages use to lift car engines and fixed it to the hook in the ceiling. Martin watched as David struggled with his tasks hampered by his own shackles. It was the attention to detail that amused Martin.

He wrapped tape around the hoist and hook so that it could not be jerked out. He did the same when he attached the bar with manacles to the hoist before letting out the hoist so that the biggest manacle reached Craig's neck.

David glanced at Martin who nodded. David took the duct tape, wrapping one of Craigs arms to his body.

Finally he was ready. He picked up the chloroform looking at Martin again. Certain now that he could trust David, Martin called him over to release his handcuffs. He left his ankles shackled more because he liked the look more than to control David but David did not complain.

David seemed to know what he was doing and there was a look in Craig's eyes that said he did too. It was one of near terror and resignation.

"Please, don't fucking do this. I won't fucking hurt you, I promise," he cried out.

"Two, One, Zero," Martin said, picking up the stun gun and firing at Craig's thigh. His body convulsed again. Martin was worried that he would strain his muscles as he fought against his bonds. He took the chloroform and rag from David, poured a liberal dose onto the rag and held it to Craig's face.

Craig relaxed almost immediately, breathing deeply as if panting after exercise which was just Martin wanted. Martin held the rag as Craig's head tried to loll forward. He held it for about a minute longer before reaching forward and grabbing Craig's balls. He fondled them for a moment then squeezed as hard as he could. Craig did not respond.

"He's all yours, David," Martin said.

Working quickly, David slit the tape around Craig's neck, pulling it all free before fixing the collar around Craig's neck. He fetched the key then released all the handcuffs. He lifted Craig's free arm to one of the manacles. Finally he removed the tape from around Craig's body and other arm before securing it to another manacle. The bar hung down Craig's back and his hands had just enough movement to rest on his shoulders.

Craig was still propped up against the table leg. David released the chain connecting Craig's balls to the spreader bar. David looked at Martin.

"When he comes round I'll fit the manacles hanging from the bottom of the bar to his ankles, Master," David said, "He'll have to crawl until he's under the hoist first."

"He might refuse," Martin said.

"Then I'll drag him across by the hoist and you can encourage him with the prod, Master."

"If I were a true Master then I think I'd want to punish you for telling me what to do."

"Yes Master," David replied, "I'd probably hate it but if you punished me, I'd get over it."

"You really accept a boy like me as your Master?" Martin asked.

"It sounds stupid but you seem to be more," David said, "You're not Bobby any more."

"Whatever you think I am, am I your master?"

Yes, Master," David replied.

"So let's hope I haven't killed Craig yet and be ready for when he comes round."

"Yes Master," David agreed, "Do I have to be kind to him?"

"No, why?"

"When you're not around he tries to get me on his side," David explained, "Can I hurt him if he tries again please, Master."

"I don't see why not," Martin replied, "You can gag him as well if you like but wait for him to start coming round."

A broad grin appeared on David's face and he shuffled over to a cupboard looking for a suitable gag. He showed Martin his choice. It was a thick but relatively short penis gag. Martin was intrigued by the whiskers which covered the tip.

"They touch the back of your mouth," David explained, "They don't scratch or anything, just tickle and make you want to gag all the time. It's horrible."

"Sounds about right for him," Martin laughed.

Once Craig was fully conscious, he only felt pain and discomfort. First he had a splitting headache from the chloroform, then he was struggling against the irritation in his throat. His body was trying to repel the irritant but couldn't, leaving him swallowing, feeling as if he was choking with his mouth filling with spit as he tried to eject the invading gag.

Craig's ankles were still manacled to the spreader bar and his shins still taped to his thighs.

"OK!" Martin said, "You should be getting the idea by now. Please don't cooperate, I want to hurt you some more."

Craig was even more terrified. The two boys were working well together and had him under complete control. The boy, Bobby, had a look of maturity and self control about him that had not been there before. He had little choice but to obey until they made a mistake.

Soon he found himself kneeling under the hoist. Short chains locked his ankles to the bar that hung behind his back. His arms were held on either side of his head, attached to the same bar, as was his neck. The bar was held upright by the hoist. Craig had very little movement. He could not straighten his legs so he could only kneel. If he tried to lower his body the neck collar would take his weight and he would hang.

"OK," Martin said, "In a moment, I'm going to release one arm. Try anything funny and I'll use a prod. David will hold a clipboard in front of you and you will sign where it says. On second thoughts, please don't comply. You've got some interesting looking whips and straps. Oh yes, I've found your cigarettes. You've no idea how much they hurt when they're stubbed out on someone's balls."

Reverse psychology can be very effective. Craig latched onto the idea that he would be defying Martin if he obeyed. He meekly cooperated.

When Martin printed the documents out properly he took one to show Craig. It read:

I accept that I am now the prisoner of the boys I know as Bobby and David. In their place I would do what they are doing: that is, ensuring that I can never harm them again.

I will sign this document, partly because I fear the consequences if I don't and partly because I know that whatever happens, I have lost my freedom for ever. Even if I live, I will spend the rest of my life in an institution so my assets may as well go to someone who will look after these boys.

Martin grinned.

"You see. Your lawyers would would find a handwriting expert to show that you were stressed when you signed all these documents. There will be some signs of stress but you have accounted for them.

"Now is there any part of this letter that you think is wrong?"

Craig nodded.

"The bit about fearing the consequences?"

Craig shook his head.

"Where it is says that you'll never be free again?"

Craig nodded.

"You're not going to threaten kids again," Martin said, "If I have to, I will kill you. If you live, I'll hand you over to the authorities, if you end up in prison, the other inmates will give you a hard time. The best option would be for you to be declared insane and put in Broadmoor."

Martin paused making sure that Craig was listening, "There's a hint of remorse in that letter about what you've done. If you challenge it, you might lose a chance of freedom, in say, fifty years. It's not much but it's all you'll get from me."

Martin knelt down and stroked Craig's cock. Almost against the man's will it twitched and grew. Martin knew what he was doing and gently pumped Craig's tool until it was hard, pointing upwards on the verge of shooting. Martin stopped and drew his finger behind his prisoner's balls towards his cherry. His fingers were tiny compared to a man but it did not matter. Craig had no control over what a ten year old boy was doing to him,.

"You might escape," Martin said softly, "You might even recapture us but we have a friend who knows where we are. If I miss a check in, he will go straight to the police. My friend will still have all your assets. What will you do? Run without any money? Stay here and try to bluff it out? Go to a lawyer and sue?"

Craig seemed to slump in defeat.

"Oh I forgot to mention," Martin continued, "I've destroyed your passport and you'll need a garage to clean the sugar and water out of your car's fuel system. I don't think the brick on the accelerator pedal did it much good when I ran it. It did scream for a time but then it just started spluttering."

Craig had the unpleasant feeling that he was indeed trapped.

"It's getting late and I'm tired," Martin said, "Tomorrow, I'm going to look for any cash that you might have stashed here. Then it'll just leave your boat."

Craig began to panic. The boy seemed to be covering every possibility. If he did not escape soon then he never would. He tried to work his hands through the manacles. He succeeded in scraping his wrists but nothing else.

"Easy," Martin said, calmly. He stuck tape onto the back of Craig's hands as he pulled it along the prisoners fingers Martin slapped a short bar into the palm of his hand. As Craig's fingers instinctively curled round the bar, Martin taped them into place. He added more tape securely holding Craig's hand gripping the bar. Martin repeated the process with his other hand.

"Relax," Martin said, "There's no way you can make your hand small enough to pull through now. If you don't want to feel how big David's fist is when it's inside your arse then stop trying."

Craig looked pleadingly at Martin, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"That's better," Martin said soothingly, "Why don't you kneel there quietly and see if you can think of anything that I've forgotten."

Craig looked at David.

"I think that gag's making him choke," Martin said to David.

"Yes Master," David replied, "Do you want me to remove it now or wait until he passes out."

"When he passes out will do. I don't think we need him any more but it may be as well to keep him alive for a while longer. It's not essential though."

He winked at David as he spoke though Craig could not see it. David replied with a solemn yes Master then on Martin's instructions fetched the largest butt plug he could find.

"Put it on the floor in front of him," Martin said, "I saw some chillies and horseradishes. We can make a paste of them and use it for lube. It'll make his arse feel as if it's on fire. As soon as he causes trouble, we'll try it and see if it makes him scream."

David grinned. Maybe there was a trace of disappointment in his eyes that nothing was going to happen immediately but with luck, Craig would cause trouble sooner or later.

Craig looked desperately between the two boys, not understanding how his world had been turned upside down so dramatically. Martin found a blindfold and even some earplugs.

"We're going upstairs to get something to eat and rest," Martin said, "We'll pop down every so often to check on you, though. If you're even thinking about escaping we'll know and use the stun gun on you again. Don't forget, you've given us plenty of ideas on how to punish you and David here really does want to try some of them out on you."

"His bedroom stinks and the rest of the place is a pig sty except for the kitchen and bathroom," Martin said as he led David upstairs. David was now free of all restraints but still meekly followed Martin, "It's weird. It's almost as if he didn't think he had a life anywhere else."

"No Master," David replied.

"You can drop the slave act now," Martin said, "We've worked well together. Let's grab something to eat then find somewhere to sleep."

Martin was hungry again. His young body had been half starved and used most of it's energy dealing with the pain and injuries that Craig had inflicted. He liked cooking but it had been a long time since he had derived much pleasure from eating.

He noticed David, standing, waiting.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I know you're only a kid but I feel is if I belong to you," David said, "You know what you're doing, you don't care that I'm gay and you involve me. Even when you didn't trust me, you told me why you were locking me up. I don't want to forget the slave stuff because I'll start feeling alone again."

"And if I want to fuck you?"

David grinned, "You're not big enough yet, Master."

He became serious, "I understand what you're saying. You can make things hard, I mean difficult for me but I don't mind. With you it might be fun. With Craig it would have gone too far and been horrible."

"We'll see," Martin said, "In the meantime, I don't see why a slave should be standing doing nothing while the Master does all the work. You can see what I'm doing. Take over. I'm going to check on Craig."

Although David remained a subservient slave there was a relaxed atmosphere as they prepared their meal then found somewhere to settle down for the night. The body that Martin was inhabiting was exhausted and so was David. Since he had arrived fear had kept him awake and the constant dread of what he faced had drained him as well.

One of the spare bedrooms, though dusty was usable and they clambered gratefully into bed. They slept nestled up into one another enjoying a tender embrace rather than a sexual encounter.

Craig got no sleep. He ached. His knees carried most of his weight and his muscles were still sore from the jolts he had received. He half-heartedly tested his bonds but he was terrified of getting another jolt. He was not a strong willed man, almost scared of adult company.

He could not cope with Martin's decisiveness and air of authority and, deep down, feared a confrontation with him. If Martin made a bad mistake which showed his vulnerability then Craig would re-establish his position but until then he accepted Martin's warning and did not try to escape.

The next morning the two boys worked together in an easy companionship. After breakfast Martin turned to David.

"OK slave," he said, "I want you to go down to our prisoner and clear up any mess he has made."

David looked at Martin then offered one of his trademark grins.

"Yes Master," he said, "I'll give him an enema. I wonder if he'll like it any more than we did, especially when I force a bucket between his legs."

"I'll prepare his breakfast," Martin said, "Warm water with a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and a pinch of salt. When you take it down, he can watch you jerk off into it. That'll give him some protein."

"Can I piss into it as well, please?" David asked.

"No!" Martin replied, "Leave something in reserve. If he complains, don't say anything, just leave it in front of him, piss in it then and give it to him for lunch. That way, he'll learn that things can always get worse. If he behaves, leave the gag out."

David nodded, happily setting off on his tasks. Craig was too thirsty to complain and eagerly drunk from the glass offered to him.

Martin began cleaning the room where Craig had kept his files and was joined by David when he had dealt with Craig. They worked steadily until Martin was satisfied that they could relax in what proved to be a pleasant but old fashioned sitting room. They sat down and rested.

"I suppose we should find some clothes," Martin said, "I like the view but we can't be naked for ever."

David blushed.

"It'll take a few days to finish all the transactions," Martin continued, "So I'm not rushing."

Unless I have to, he thought. The presence seemed to shake its head, indicating that it was happy to let Martin finish his work.

"See if you can find any clothes for us while I do some work on the computer," Martin said to David, "Then we'll think about lunch."

Before they began their tasks, Martin asked, "Do you still want to avoid the police?"

David nodded, "They'll split us up."

"Do you want to kill Craig."

David stared at him, "I do for what he's done but you mean do it for real. No. I don't think I want to."

"I agree but it means that we need help," Martin said, "I've got an idea but it might not work. What do you think?"

"We can't keep him prisoner for the rest of our lives so we'll have to do something. If you've got an idea, let's try it."

"In that case, we'll need clothes we can wear to get up to London. I'll try to find the place I've found."

"Are you still happy to be my slave?" Martin asked, "It's important. Your consent is what makes us different to Craig. I've also got to plan around what you want."

"I want to serve both of you," David said, "I mean just you. It's weird. Sometimes I think you're a ghost and you're holding Bobby."

"Something strange is happening," Martin said, "I don't think I'm ready to explain it but maybe we shouldn't do too much in the way of sex until I have. Anyway this body needs time to heal."

"Yes Master," David said then grinned, "I nearly said I understand but I don't."

***

Martin hoped that he was not making a mistake. It was the right place. He was sure of that because of the men walking down the alleyway and knocking on the door. The presence was scared, trusting Martin but knowing that they were on a risky venture.

Taking a deep breath and leaving David to follow him, Martin marched down the alley and knocked on the door.

"Sorry, lad," the doorman said kindly, "This isn't your sort of place. You'll be safer if you head back for the High Street."

"Thanks," Martin replied, "I don't have time to be polite. I do know about BDSM. David here is my slave. I need a policeman and if I have to go to the station then people like us and clubs like this are going to be spread across the tabloids for the next five years. So, will you help me?"

The doorman stared at him. Martin tried to stare back just as calmly but his body or the presence lacked the experience. Luckily it was enough because the doorman glanced nervously down the alley then let them in.

It was a simple cloakroom except that there were more clothes than just coats stored behind the counter. The doorman exchanged a few words with his assistant who disappeared through a door.

While they were waiting, there was a knock on the outer door which the doorman answered, letting two men in.

"We've a slight problem," the assistant said politely, indicating Martin and David, "Would you mind waiting a few moments before changing?"

Both men eyed the two boys appraisingly and one nodded.

"We can go through as we are," he said, "It's Visitors Night so it doesn't matter. My boy can put on a show by stripping in there. Can you tell me what's going on?"

Martin was beginning to realise that he could sense people other than the presence sharing the boy's body. The man seemed sharp, intelligent, severe but not cruel.

Before the doorman could answer Martin piped up, "We need a policeman who understands what we are. We can agree to a lot but not making David watch me being tortured to death."

The three men stared at him.

"Are you wearing a microphone or anything," the newcomer asked.

Martin stepped forward, peeled off his clothes, putting them on the counter and raising his arms.

"David, strip," he snapped before looking at the men and continuing, "Feel free to search us and our clothes."

"I don't have to," the man said looking at his body, "You should be in hospital, not on a police sting. Get dressed please."

"It's superficial," Martin replied, "He was just warming up. The real horror used to start when he strapped us down."

"'Used to start'?" the man said, "Where is he now?"

"Hoping we get back before he dies of thirst or his joints are permanently damaged," Martin grinned.

The man grinned back before staring at Martin thoughtfully.

"I never thought I would mention this here but I'm a judge," the man said, "For now, call me Terry. Do you think that you'll need my help?"

Martin nodded.

"Yes I do and thank you."

They waited in an affable silence. Since David was still naked, there seemed little point in leaving Terry's companion dressed so he was standing beside David, naked except for a leather collar and cuffs on his wrists and ankles. Martin estimated him to be in his late twenties. Fit but not overly toned. He probably had an active job but did no training or really hard work, Martin thought. David was far more appealing.

The doorman returned with three other men. One of them was wearing a dressing gown. He looked at Martin.

"You want to see a policeman?" he asked, "I'm afraid that I don't have my warrant card with me. This gentleman is the manager and this is my Master."

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" Martin asked, "You're all welcome to come and listen providing you agree that it stays inside this club but the lobby isn't the best place. "

"Use the staffroom," the manager said. He turned to the doorman, "Les, will you take them round to the back entrance, please. I'll go through and unlock. I know you'd like to hear the story as well but someone's got to make sure that we're not disturbed."

Martin was struck by how polite everyone was. It may have been for the boys benefit. David and Terry's companion were obviously bottoms and it seemed that everyone assumed that they would obey and did not have to prove themselves as tops. Martin liked the atmosphere.

Giving David a few minutes to dress Les led them outside while the others trooped through the building.

Once back inside, David had to strip again, leaving his clothes on the floor beside the door. Nearly everyone was sat around a large table except for Terry's boy and again David was sent to stand beside him. Only the policeman was absent but he arrived a few moments later fully dressed. With a brief glance at his Master he sat at the table.

"That's OK," the Master said, "We'll have something to discuss when we get together again."

Both men smiled contentedly before the policeman turned to Martin.

"I'm Brian. " he said, "Can we stick to first names for now, please?"

Martin nodded, "That's fine."

He grinned, "And if we're all sitting comfortably then I'll begin.

"There are some unexplainable parts to this story and the beginning sounds more like a fairy tale than a crime story. It protects someone who is innocently asleep while all this is going on so please take it at its face value."

Although puzzled, everyone nodded.

"OK," Martin continued, "The fairy tale bit. My name is Martin Smith. I am sixty five years old. I live alone about three hundred miles [500 km] away in a rented semi detached house. I went to sleep last night and woke up in this body. If my body needs anything, then when I go to sleep here, I get up at home, take a pee or whatever then go back to sleep. Back there it's the same night even though I've been here for several days.

"Whatever you believe, my story protects the old man."

Everyone nodded. Terry tried to say something but Martin held up his hand.

"Even if you do ask something, I probably won't know the answer," he said.

Terry grinned and relaxed.

"The last bit of the fairy tale is that I sense another presence in this body. I assume it's the boy that should be here. He's had a bad time but is recovering. I think he's strong enough to kick me out but he's allowing me to finish my work here."

Martin stood up, stripped, then holding his arms in the air, turned round in a full circle.

"This is the body I entered and where the fairy tale ends," he said before getting dressed again, "It'll be easier if I say I rather than this body all the time. I was being held by one Craig Olsen and was just one in a line of other victims."

Martin reached into his bag and took out a folder.

"These are printouts from his computer files. There's video as well. I got control of him because he had got sloppy and careless, also I hadn't been broken like this boy had been."

As the others looked at the pictures, the mood changed. David was looking as if he had finally understood something but apart from that, there was an increasing sense of anger and revulsion.

"OK," Brian said, at last, "I'll go along with the fairy tale for now. It's a good reason for not reporting it directly but why else did you come here for help?"

"All three of us are gay," Martin replied, "The two boys can't go home for a variety of reasons and despite what Olsen was doing, we all found his dungeon fascinating. Something or someone has made me responsible for these boys and I'd like to continue. The other reason is that I persuaded Olsen to give me power of attorney. I've taken all his money, his house and I'm working on his stocks and shares. I can make sure that these boys are set up for life and I can do something for other kids in trouble."

Martin paused, then slowly and deliberately added, "I don't want myself, or the boys to be part of the media circus that would happen if this became public."

"You persuaded him?" Terry asked, "How?"

"Don't ask," Martin said grimly, "I seriously considered killing him but it would have been a bad start to a new life, even killing scum like that."

"He could report you for theft and extortion," Brian said, "I don't think you'll be able to keep the money."

"It comes back to how I got his money," Martin said, "I can prove that I've been in Yorkshire while it's all been going on. There's no contact through phone calls, emails or anything else that can be recorded so there's no evidence of him being pressured.

"David and, I think, Bobby will claim that he suddenly felt bad about what he was doing and tried to make up for it all."

"OK," Terry said, "If I said that you've just made a powerful case for the prosecution but we've now got to investigate and hear the defence, what would you say?"

"That I understand," Martin said, "Assuming the case is proved, can you help us?"

"Given your… Bobby's age, it'll be difficult," Terry said, "Brian and I will have to call in favours. Most of our colleagues do nothing more controversial than join the golf club so they won't be all that sympathetic. We'll have to be careful but we'll still have a lot of friends willing to help. You're right, unless it's all handled tactfully, the media will have a field day at our expense. The first order of business is finding you somewhere to stay."

"They can stay here in one of the guest rooms," the club manager said, "No one else knows that they're here. I'll flip the fuse box and say there's an electrical fault. No one will be suspicious if I close early then."

"That's good of you," Terry said, "How's your boy doing?"

"A chip off the old block," the manager replied, "He'll be thirteen next month and is quite the ladies man already. He can take a good session in the dungeon as well and still calls it extreme exercise."

"The others laughed with the manager as he left.

"James there and I only pair up for club outings," Terry said, "My present boy's eleven so we understand better than you think."

Martin nodded. Relief was flooding through him and he could sense relief from the presence as well.

"I'm feeling a bit tired," he said, "I'd like to lie down as soon as possible."

"There's a couch over there," someone said, "Use that."

Martin obeyed, immediately falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

***

"He was woken by a loud knocking on a door together with its bell being rung. Martin was disorientated, trying to understand where he was. He slowly realised that he was back in his own body but it was different. It did not feel so old. His aches had gone, he felt cheerful and his mind was clear.

Pausing only to slip on a robe he hurried downstairs to open the door. A relieved, young police constable stood there.

"I'm sorry for the noise, sir," he said, "They said that you might be ill and I was about to break in. They also said that you might be confused for a time and that I was to look after you. It was a bit weird."

"You can look after me by putting the coffee on while I wash and dress," Martin said, "I do need a little time to clear my head."

Later while relaxing comfortably in the sitting room, the policeman said in a puzzled voice, "This sounds a bit cloak and dagger but I'm to say that Brian and Terry said hallo and can you remember what Brian was wearing when you first met?"

"A dressing gown," Martin replied.

"And what was Terry's job?"

"A judge."

The policeman still looked puzzled.

"Are you willing to take care of David and Bobby?"

"I know David," Martin said, "I think I know a Bobby so the answer is probably also yes."

"One last question, sir," the policeman said, "Superintendent Darson is working on a very sensitive case. It seems that you know the Super as Brian but do you know the name of the suspect in the case?"

"Craig Olsen," Martin replied.

"OK," the policeman said, "I've bumped into Brian in a gay bar before now. I know he's into kinkier stuff but I'm not. That doesn't matter. The powers that be want the case settled before the publicity gets out of control. We've got to contact a lot of families with missing kids and it'll be good to let them grieve in peace for as long as possible."

Martin nodded in agreement.

"The official story being issued is that a man has been arrested in connection with a series of murders," the policeman said, "We're letting them discover that we have two witnesses that have gone into the Witness Protection Programme and the man is held under the Mental Health Acts. If they dig a bit deeper we'll let them uncover the fact that he's a loner who had trouble making friends."

"It's basically true," Martin said, "In many ways he's just a lost child."

"How come you know him?" the Constable asked.

"Ask Brian. I'm sorry, I should say Superintendent Darson. There's a lot to this case that can't be explained."

The constable excused himself to make a phone call. He still looked puzzled when he returned. At Martin's invitation, the Constable sat down again and poured another coffee.

"I'm to ask you if you'd care to come back with me and that it's purely optional," he paused, "If you agree then I'm to take you to a club just off Maple Street. The thing is, I know about the place and I'm not sure that it's the sort of place that you'd like to go to."

"I'd rarely gone further South than Nottingham before yesterday," Martin agreed, "So I'd never even heard of it. It's why it's such good cover."

"So how come you're involved in a case centred around Kent and London?" the Constable asked.

"Let's just say that I've come up against one of the stranger things in Heaven and Earth."

"I'm sorry," the Constable said, "I shouldn't keep asking questions but it's unusual to be pulled off regular duties just because I'm gay, packed into a helicopter and told to look after a civilian who's not to be treated as a suspect in anything. Consultants and experts rarely get this sort of treatment. Everything about the way this case is being handled is weird and outside any procedures that I've been taught."

"But you know what the case is about?" Martin asked.

He policeman nodded.

"This Olsen creep kidnapped kids to torture and murder them," he said, "It doesn't explain the secrecy though. Normally we'd be delighted with a result like this. As soon as you're ready we'll get going."

As they left, Martin had a strong feeling that he would never see his house again. He was more excited by the helicopter ride than anything else. It was strange, it was almost as if he had absorbed some of Bobby's youthfulness.

They set down in a field and Martin was hustled into a waiting car to be driven into town. The car was unmarked and anonymous. No one noticed it as it drew up outside the equally inconspicuous club.

As he entered he was greeted by Brian and Terry and they sat down around one of the tables in the bar. Martin gave his version of events.

"If this case came to court, the press would have a field day. Olsen admits to being caught by a ten year old boy who then stole all of his money but he also says that there was an old guy hanging around telling him what to do. He's given your description and of course the money was paid into your bank account. The boy then promptly gave himself up to a police Superintendent in a Leather/BDSM bar.

"No one here would make good witnesses because our memories are so confused. We remember the story Bobby told us but we remember you being there as well. I recognised you as you came into this room.

"Back home over the last few days, you've had a doctor's appointment, drawn your pension; we've got your picture at the cash machine and a few other witnesses to confirm you've been there all the time. Yet David and Bobby are sure that you were in the dungeon with them.

"We've managed to have him sectioned and the signs are we'll be able to hold him indefinitely under the Mental Health Act. That's even without his stories of ghostly pensioners robbing him.

"If you'd gone to a police station and everything had gone through proper channels the press would have raised blue murder if he hadn't been put on trial. They wouldn't want to be deprived of the chance to print every lurid detail. There was also a chance that he would have got away with manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. God alone knows what a jury would have made of your involvement.

"Everyone from the Home Secretary down is grateful for the chance to keep Olsen permanently inside and the publicity under control."

"We'll put you in the witness protection programme and you can look after the boys. That's what they want.

"It turns out that the military have been investigating similar cases for years so they'll want regular reports of any more activity. Their problem is that often memories change as ours seem to be doing so no one remembers much. They've even tried hypnosis but no artificial experiment has ever worked. It's rare for it to happen twice to the same individual like Bobby, even rarer for them to meet someone like you.

They'd like to debrief you and ask you to inform them of any new activity. If you agree then they'll keep in contact with you and discreetly ask other agencies to keep clear. It's another reason why we don't want any publicity."

"But what would that mean to us?" Martin asked.

"It'll be against the national interest to reveal that you're engaged in sex with under age boys."

Martin glanced around the assembled group.

"I assume that you've spoken to David and Bobby," he said, "What do they want?"

Terry was silent for a moment.

"It's very strange," he said, "At first, David was sure that it was only Bobby with him but now he talks about you and Bobby as if he saw both of you. You were holding Bobby most of the time or he was clinging on but it's very confused. What made you write everything down?"

"I don't know," Martin replied, "I think I found it a way of keeping everything clear in my head. You didn't answer my question."

"They've been checked over by paediatrician, a social worker and a psychiatrist," Brian said, "Their experiences seemed to have wakened something in them. It would be a mistake to return to that house with them but they want to do something. The best way that I can describe it is they want to learn about their limits and the only person they trust to teach them is you."

"Maybe they should be found families so they can have a proper childhood," Martin said.

"The people who examined them tried to persuade them," Brian explained, "Bobby's answer was that he needed to feel safe and wanted. He's become sexually aware and doesn't want to repress it. Apparently he was a bit muddled but that was the gist of what he was saying.

"David isn't sure if he felt wanted by you or Bobby but he says that he doesn't want to be an adult any more. He liked being consulted by you but he did not want the responsibility of making the decisions. There's an element of choosing you to be his mentor. Apparently it's a primeval instinct. A youngster learns from a successful hunter how to survive."

"I'm flattered but I'd hardly call myself successful," Martin exclaimed.

"Oh, I don't know," Brian relied, "You turned them from being prey into hunters. That's pretty successful."

Martin shrugged.

"OK!" he said, "I don't think we need full blown witness protection, just keep the press off our backs until it all blows over and then, I still think that they'd be better off if they could contact their families. I've got friends that I'd like to keep in contact with.

"Go along with the programme for now," Brian said, "You can always come off it later but stories like Olsen never completely go away."

Martin nodded, "Fair enough. How about money?"

"The real question is, could a couple of boys have forced him to sign those documents?" Brian replied, "Another question is, could they have written such adult sounding letters? Even Olsen agrees that there was no other adult present except for a ghost. He's latched onto the idea that the letters show he was repentant and may get him off. It won't because, apparently, he doesn't understand the fuss over a few street kids."

Martin waited, not fully understanding what Brian was saying.

"The bottom line is, although he has rights, it's unlikely that he could even find a lawyer to handle the case, let alone put up a viable argument. If it became a police matter, who would I arrest, you or Bobby?"

"Terry's suggestion is, you set up a trust fund to take care of his needs. He maybe released when he's too old to pose threat. Set up another to help his other victim's families and other runaways. You, David and Bobby will still live comfortably on the remainder."

***

Martin woke relaxed and content. Bobby was standing, naked as usual, holding his morning coffee. David was still asleep, impaled on his cock and sporting his own rigid hard on. It was part of the routine that they had developed over the last year. Martin felt fit and energetic as if still absorbing some of Bobby's youthful energy but he had to pace himself.

He gently pulled himself out of David and sat up, accepting the cup. David woke up, moaning in frustration as he realised he would spend time parading around fully erect, desperate for release.

Bobby grinned unsympathetically. David was not even allowed to touch his own cock until Martin had drained his own balls. If David had to take a piss then Bobby would have to guide it for him. Bobby would gently play with it, getting him as close to the edge as possible, making his torment worse.

Now eleven, Bobby was beginning to understand David's torture better. He was wondering what plans Martin had for him that day. He shuddered with youthful anticipation.

The End