Sex in the Sky

It was my first summer term at university. I’d been biking a lot so my legs and butt were nicely muscled, but I wanted to have an all-round balanced look. I’d resolved to work on my upper body by using the weight sets at the gym, which was only a few minutes’ walk from my residence. I’d been doing regular workouts there for the past three weeks, but hadn’t really talked much with anyone there. Most of the guys there were a bit scary looking, really intense, and I guess none of them were interested in workout tips from a slim guy like me.

This time, though, was different. As I worked out with the barbells in front of the wall-sized mirror, I found it a bit too muggy and warm for my taste. I put down the weights and headed out of the gym and into the hallway where it was a bit cooler.

That was when I noticed that I’d been followed out of the gym by a fellow I’d seen in the mirror in there as I’d been working out. He looked like he was an undergrad like me, 19 or 20 years old, and he was wearing a loose t-shirt and the typically short gym shorts that were in style back then. His light brown hair was short, and he was a bit taller than me - maybe 5′ 10″ - with a slim build, but nice looking shoulders and arms.

It was quiet in the hallway, with only the muffled sound of music and the clanking of weights and machines breaking the silence. I had been heading out to the door nearest to the residences just up the hill, but I noticed that he seemed to want to say something to me, so I prompted him by saying hello. It must have been what he’d hoped I’d do, because then he asked me how my workout had been. He’d noticed me inside the gym, probably when I hadn’t been looking his way in the mirror. I told him I’d had a good workout, then asked him how his had been. It was all quite a stilted way to start a conversation, and I could tell he thought so too, but the both of us seemed to want to get through this awkward moment, regardless.

He asked me if I worked out often at the gym. I told him I did, every two days, in the late afternoon. My responses were somewhat guarded at first, as I guessed why he had followed me out to this hallway and why he was interested in chatting. Then I decided I was willing to go along with him to see where it would lead. I’d had a lot of gay sex fantasies over the last few years and I might finally be in a position to live one out with this nice looking guy.

After these few words, our conversation seemed to taper off. Either I was going to say “good bye, see you later maybe” and walk away from the possibilities now open to me, or I could plunge myself into this new, and until now, only imagined world. I was pretty sure I knew what he wanted. Fortunately for the both of us, I wanted the same thing.

“I’m heading back to my residence room. Are you headed that way?”, I ventured.

“Oh, sure,” he replied. “I live in Armond house - hang on a sec and I’ll grab my backpack.” I’d lived in Armond the previous school term, and it seemed immediately relevant that Armond is an all male house. At the time I lived there, it had been a dull, dreary, cold winter, and none of the guys in my house had been in the least interesting.

He was back in a flash, holding his backpack with the campus logo on it. I had a drink at the water fountain, and we were off through the doors into the late afternoon sunshine. The residence I lived in is one of the closest to the gym, and as we walked there we discussed our respective majors and how nice it was to be on campus in the summertime.

I led the way up the stairs to the second floor, then through the hallway to my door. I reached for my key; it was hanging from my neck on a length of white shoe string. To open the door I bent over to insert the key into the door knob, knowing that he was standing right behind me and feeling a rush of excitement as I signalled my vulnerability to him. I couldn’t tell what he thought of seeing my shorts-clad ass bent over before him, but I made sure it took me extra time to get the key into the door knob. He didn’t hesitate to come in my room when I invited him to.

Residence rooms are not large - they have enough space to comfortably fit a bed, a desk, two chairs, and leave room for nervous pacing. The walls are all white-painted cinder block, with the exception of a thinner cork-surfaced wall separating adjoining rooms. I was pleased to have a single room, and it sounded as if my next door neighbour was not in.

I invited my new friend to have a seat in the upholstered chair, while I turned on a fan and put some low tunes on the stereo. I sat on the edge of my bed facing him, wondering what would happen next. I was really getting into the idea of seducing him, of letting him use me for his pleasure. He seemed oblivious as looked around at my posters and calendar on the cork wall; they weren’t much to look at - just some cheap prints I’d gotten the previous term. I decided then that I needed to change out of my sweaty clothes - just the thought of my removing my clothes was tinged with a hint of sexual excitement that I hoped he would detect.

“Do you mind if I just change shirts?”, I asked him.

“No, go ahead - it’s not like I’ve never seen bare chested guys before, ha ha,” he replied.

Was that the hint I was looking for? I wondered if he’d seen a lot more than just their bare chests. I stood up from the bed and walked over to open a dresser drawer by the closet. He occupied himself by looking over my stereo, which was on a shelf in the closet. I found a clean shirt, then took off the one I was wearing. I was half-turned away from him, since I wasn’t sure I should look at him straight on as I stood before him wearing only my gym shorts, but I wanted to see if I could catch his eye while I was mostly unclothed. I almost gave up hope that he’d look up at me, but he finally passed his eyes over my upper body, very quickly - almost a bit furtively - and I immediately felt my cock stir.

“Actually, I think I’m not going to bother with another shirt - it’s too damn warm.” I put the clean shirt back in the drawer and sat down again on the bed, this time leaning way back on my elbows and straightening my legs out towards him, into the middle of the room.

“That’s not a bad idea - say, can you turn the fan over a bit on me too?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said as I got up to move the fan a bit. “Feel free to take that shirt off too - nothing like a good stiff breeze on you [gulp! did he catch that?] - but you probably don’t want to sit back in that chair with your shirt off! The vinyl on those chairs feels awful on damp skin… you might as well just sit on the bed.”

“Sure you don’t mind?” he asked.

“Nope - go ahead.”

He didn’t hesitate - he got up from the chair, swept his shirt off, and tossed it on top of his backpack where it lay on the floor. I saw well formed abs and a nicely shaped chest - with just the right amount of muscle showing - and they complemented his buffed arms and shoulders. He took two steps over to the side of the bed and sat down. I thought he’d deliberately left me only a little space next to him on the bedside.

With my back to him, I had to lean over my desk to move some books out the way before I could turn the fan more on him. I hoped he was checking out my ass as I also began to crank the window open wider.

“Say, you’ve really been working on your shoulder muscles,” he said. “Is that what you’ve been concentrating on at the gym?”

I turned around to face him. “Thanks - yeah, I’ve been trying to get more of an upper body workout. My legs are already in decent shape from all the biking I do.”

“I can tell…” He eyes lingered on my legs a bit, then he seemed to look deliberately at my crotch for a second.

“Hey, you’re too kind! You really think my shoulders look ok?” I turned my back to him again, raised my arms and began to flex my shoulders and triceps for him. “Boy, it sure feels good to do this when they’re still worked up!” As I kept flexing my arms in different ways, I realized how I could break down any awkwardness that might remain between us. It seems now that it’s the oldest trick in the book, but it worked for me then, as it has many times since.

A couple of weeks before, feeling extremely horny, I’d gone to the local sex shop and brought home a bottle of massage oil to masturbate with. I’d wait until it was dark, turn out the lights in my room, and open the blinds on the window that looked out on the grassy common area between the residences. I could see students working away at their lit desks in other rooms across the way. Standing in front of the window, I’d strip off all my clothes and slather my hairless body in massage oil (I love to keep my legs, cock, balls, and ass completely shaven). I’d preen at the window, making sure my slick naked body was lit up by the orange glow cast upwards by the lamps outside. I would stroke myself, turning my body this way and that, sometimes bending my ass towards the window, sometimes pressing my swollen cock against the glass, to give any watchers a real good show. Slowly, I would build to orgasm, the danger of being seen or caught increasing the power of my orgasm, spraying cock juice over myself and onto the window. I’d rub sperm all over myself, wipe the window clean, then head for the communal showers.

“I know just the thing - it’ll be like at the bodybuilding competitions!” I told my friend. I quickly opened my middle drawer where I keep my sex paraphernalia, hoping he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of too much in there (not yet!), and found the small bottle of massage oil. “Aha! Here it is…”

“Oh boy - yeah, it’ll be just like a competition,” he chuckled as I began to oil my arms and shoulders, making sure I got lots of it on so that my skin would glisten.

“Hmm, would you mind getting my back for me?” I asked him, wondering if he’d go for this obvious icebreaker. I held out to him the still opened bottle of massage oil. “I can’t quite reach there.” The only thing stopping me from laughing out loud at my own cliched words was the further stiffening of my cock and the pounding of my heart.

“Uh, no… sure,” he said, getting up and taking the bottle from me. Our fingers touched briefly, and I thought surely he knew by then that I was trying to seduce him right back into the bed we had been sitting on.

I turned my back to him and started flexing my arms again. He stepped up behind me, and poured some oil on his hands. He took hold of both my shoulders with his oiled hands, then as he warmed up to his task he began rubbing more oil into my shoulders, arms, and upper back. I parted my lips and moaned lightly to make sure he knew it felt good and to encourage him whenever his hands moved lower down my back. Other than the sliding, smacking sounds of his hands on my back and arms, the silence in the room was now palpable.

He startled me by reaching around me with his oiled hands and slathering oil on my chest and stomach. It was a thrilling sensation to have his strong hands massaging me, catching my hardening nipples as they thoroughly coated me with gleaming oil. My cock by this time had wetted through the front of my gym shorts with the precum oozing from its tip, and my breathing was getting deeper and heavier.

“Mmmm, nice,” I said as his hands ran up, down, and in circles on my upper body. His breathing in my right ear was noticeably heavier as well. Then he made his move. He deliberately pinched my nipples several times, coaxing a few grunts from me as I savoured the growing lust in me. It was my signal to take control of the situation.

I dropped my arms to hold myself up as I leaned forward over my desk chair, pushing my ass out towards him, and as I did so, he moved a bit to my left to reach for the window blinds. That was when I felt his stiff cock brush my left ass cheek, and I knew it was all going to work out. I heard him gulp at the touch of my ass on his cock. He pulled the blinds closed only part way, as if to tell me that he knew I wanted the danger of being seen having sex with him. I reached back with my left hand and rubbed his cock through the tented fabric of his shorts. Hearing him moan, I began to squeeze and release it rhythmically as I backed up slowly against his body.

As our bare torsos touched, he moved his hands across my chest, then lower and lower, making small circles on my stomach and catching the elastic of my gym shorts each time his hands completed a circle. I arched my back, still grasping his cock with both hands now, slowly stroking its length through his shorts, and rubbing my thumbs in his precum. Finally, he pulled open the waistband of my shorts and moved both his hands down to find my clean shaven crotch.

“Mmmm, wow, you’re shaved… so smooth,” he purred into my ear, as he firmly grasped the base of my shaved cock in his right hand and massaged my smooth scrotum in the other. He pushed my shorts down around my thighs, exposing my cock to the cooling breeze of the fan, and stroked my now oiled cock from base to tip, mixing oil with the precum at the tip.

“Ahhh mmmm ohhhh…” I was temporarily at a loss for coherent words, his electric touch around my swollen cock almost too much to bear. I stopped stroking his cock and reached behind me with both hands to pull his shorts down and expose his dripping cock. I turned around to face him and hooked the waistband of his shorts out over his jutting cock as he quietly watched me. His cock was cut and looked to be a good seven inches long, with a thicker base, covered in just a small tuft of hair, tapering to a slim, somewhat pointy head. The precum oozing from his cock gave the room a musky fragrance. I took his cock by its base and moved closer so our cock heads would touch.

I rubbed his cock head against mine, making sure to tease both our slits together and to mingle our juices. He continued to play with my nipples as I jerked us both off simultaneously. After a few minutes of this, he purposefully knelt before me, his face directly in front of my darkening cockhead. With both hands he pulled my shorts down around my feet. He bent my cock up and down for a while, pleasuring me with a bit of pain, then grasped it by the root again, and licked his lips.

“Wow, what a lovely dick you have,” he complimented me. “I wonder why it’s so stiff. If it takes a licking does it keep on ticking?”

“Oh god, just suck me - I’m so fucking horny,” I gasped in reply. He licked his lips once more as he gazed lustfully at the veins standing out on my cock. My cock is five and a half inches long, uncut, and the same thickness from root to tip, with a bell shaped cockhead. My cockhead had become purple and glistened like the rest of my oiled body, except that it was also covered in oozing precum that flowed slowly out the tip and onto his hand as he stroked my cock firmly in front of his face.

“Put your mouth around it, oh man, yeah,” I told him as he licked my cockhead from the underside, wiggling it into the slit, and over it, then looped his tongue back around to the underside to start all over again.

“Mmm mmm, very juicy looking,” he said just before wrapping his hot lips around my cockhead and sliding them midway down around my cock shaft. My hands reached around behind his head and I hooked my fingers together to try to pull his mouth down lower to the base of my cock, but he resisted, instead pulling his lips back up to my cockhead and leaving them there as he sucked harder.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said. “I’m going to savour this!” His hands moved behind me, grabbing my ass cheeks and kneading them as he continued to suck my cockhead, sending waves of knee-weakening sensations up the front of my sweating, naked body. I stared down at the sexual spectacle taking place before me, his mouth sliding up and down the entire length of cock, all the way down to its shaved base. That sight alone would have been enough to make me cum, if I’d been watching it in a porn flick.

“Oh yeah, I could cum now, oh yeah,” I told him. Out the partially exposed window I caught a glimpse of students walking along the pathway past my window, on their way to dinner in the cafeteria. If they just looked up…now… they’d see a two sweaty, gleaming naked men enjoying an afternoon blowjob. The thought of being seen like this in my erect state by fellow students took me to the edge.

“Unh! … oh god… make me cum … make me cum now!” I said through half-closed eyes and clenched teeth. His mouth was still moving up and down my cock as I said this, but he stopped immediately.

“No way - I’m not going to let you cum this easily before I get some REAL action!” he said. I teetered on the edge of my orgasm, but it wasn’t close enough to finish me off yet. I took some deep breaths and eventually backed away from the orgasmic cliff edge his talented mouth, lips, and tongue had taken me to.

Once he saw my that eyes were somewhat less glazed over and that I was safely back in the non-cumming zone, he reached for the massage oil bottle still sitting on the edge of the desk. I watched him pour more oil into his hands and work it carefully through his fingers, and I could only hope he was about to do to me what I so deeply wanted him to.

“Let’s see if you like this!”, he said. “I’m the one in control here - at least for now,” he chuckled as he moved his hands back around my ass cheeks, began to suck again on my cock head, and slowly pushed a finger into my tight but eager asshole.

“Unhhh … OH MY GOD,” I exclaimed, remembering that anyone walking past in the hallway or even just next door could hear anything above a whisper in my room. The thought of being overheard, combined with the now rapid up-and-down motion of his hot wet lips on my cockshaft and his plunged finger quickly thrusting in and out of my electrically charged asshole, finally blasted me over the edge. I began spurting hot cum from what felt like the depths of my being, up from my clenched balls, through the swollen tightness of my cock shaft, past his mouth, and out into the open air, jetting onto his face, his shoulders, his back, and his chest. My asshole kneaded his still thrusting finger as the incredibly powerful orgasm made my stomach and pecs ache beautifully and the cum spurts slowed to a steady oozing and dripping onto the carpet.

He watched me, his eyes twinkling, as I slowly came down from my orgasmic high. “Well now, THAT was a good workout!,” he laughed. His right hand was still fingering my asshole, but he moved his left hand to grip my cockshaft and gently squeeze more cum out the tip. This time, he licked the cum that he coaxed out of me, and I massaged into his skin the sperm I’d covered his shoulder and back with.

“Wow, you are GOOD!,” I told him. “And yet you look so inexperienced… and so innocent!” We both laughed. “Just how experienced ARE you?” I asked, very eager to know if he knew was equally expert at other sex acts.

“Enough to know that it’s my turn now,” he replied, getting up from his kneeling position and looking knowingly at his stiff cock still standing at attention, despite my having neglected it for what seemed like such a long time. He twitched his cock up and down a few times.

“Ohhhh, I see - you want ME to do something for YOU?” I joked. “Um, how about, mmm, you, hmmm, slide that stiff schlong of yours up my tight little shaved ass?” I teased his cockhead with my sperm-covered hands. His cock seemed to swell and sprang even farther up at attention as I reached for the bottle and massaged some oil all over his cockhead and shaft.

“Oh yeah, I could go for that,” he laughed. We both kicked off the gym shorts that had been wrapped around our feet so that we were both wearing just white socks and running shoes. This isn’t normally the way athletes advertise running shoes, but I’d vouch for it being an extremely effective way to make my cock hard. My cock responded to the sexy sight of the both of us standing, facing each other, and my hands communicated my excitement to him by massaging his pulsating cock.

“Swallow it,” Giovanni instructed firmly when Rayne defiantly tried to spit it in his face. He clamped his thumb down over the boy’s nose, keeping his lips together. “Swallow it or I’ll give you another load!”

Rayne pulled frantically on the wrist and ankle cuffs as he struggled to breathe. At last when he was beginning to turn blue, he yielded and swallowed the cooling semen on his tongue. It tasted sour and stale and he gagged a little as it went down. At the same time he felt Davide’s hot juices fill his intestines from behind. The young Netherlander had a lovely long cock and in spite of his circumstances Rayne could feel his own body responding to the feel of that oiled, hard rod surging inside him. He closed his eyes. If he had to keep on looking at them he would cry and he refused to do that.

‘Don’t let them kill me,’ he kept on thinking, focussing on that determined mantra as his humiliation proceeded. ‘Just don’t let them kill me. I’ll do anything. I swear it. Don’t let them kill me.’

INQUISITION:

Phil looked a little nervously at the group of men who had surrounded him as he entered the day room of Daniel Leland’s yacht. He knew who Leland was, everyone on the Cap knew Leland by reputation if not in person. The pair who had been outside with Rayne’s boyfriend were such stunning looking guys that they had to be movie stars. Phil thought he recognised the darker guy from some of the films he had watched. He felt rather overawed to be surrounded by so much talent but he kept his nerve as he related to the assembled strangers how Rayne had spent the earlier part of the day with him then set off, as he believed, back to the boat.

“I went out for a walk to get some milk and a few groceries and I came back the long way, up through the villas in Nature,” he said, biting his lip as Ant paced back and forth with the crumpled sheets of paper in his hands, still studying them fervently. “I knew something was wrong when I found the doctor’s letter.”

“What made you suspicious?” Daniel Leland asked him solemnly. The elderly pornographer was sitting in a deep, white leather armchair, stroking his long, snowy beard as he studied Phil Honeywell. His pale grey eyes were unblinking, taking Phil in like twin cameras, recording everything he said and did.

“Umm… he… he seemed happy when he left. I think he was relieved. I dunno why he would throw it away. It doesn’t make sense,” the young man faltered, shaking his head. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I mean, if there had been a problem… yeah, he might have ditched it, but…” Phil shrugged his shoulders awkwardly.

“He was clean?” Leland asked gravely. “The test results, I mean? He showed you?”

“Yeah,” Phil bit his lip again. “He was a bit freaked out, he didn’t understand it all. I had a look for him. It was okay, I’m pretty sure.”

“And that’s all you can think about!” Ant muttered, still perusing the crumpled pages of the letter grimly. “He’s clean! Oh good, now all we have to do is find him and you can get filming! Hoo-bloody-rah!”

“You don’t have to be so vitriolic, Anthony. You’re just as concerned, if not more,” the older man said coolly. “You’ve not stopped reading that damned thing since Phil brought it here. Your conscience is easier now, yes?”

Ant looked up, his face flushed and angry but he said nothing. In the doorway, the blond man, Mikkal quietly asked; “Can you show us where you found the letter, Phil?”

“We’ve searched Port Nature up down and sideways!” Ant said in a pained voice.

“Then we’ll search it again,” Mikkal responded gravely. “As you said, he ‘has’ to be somewhere. His young friend does not seem to believe he was suicidal, therefore he is still somewhere on the complex. Maybe he has ‘other’ friends you do not know about, huh?”

Phil wished that he could shrink to the size of an insect and just slip away. The hostility between these two was so strong that it made him physically uncomfortable. No wonder Rayne wanted somewhere to hide!

“I’ll show you,” he said quickly. Anything to get off this boat and away from the argument building between them.

As he rose, a slender boy with soft, white blond curls and a shockingly bruised face came quietly through from the corridor beyond the day room and peered in at them anxiously. Phil thought he looked familiar but could not place him. Maybe he was another porn star, though he looked very young to be in the kind of movies Daniel Leland made.

“What is ‘appening?” he asked in a small voice, strongly accented and audibly nervous.

“It’s okay, Thierry,” the tall, dark haired man from the roof of the boat went to his side at once, pressing a reassuring smile onto his face as he explained Phil’s presence on board.

Thierry’s blue eyes widened as he listened to the account of this afternoon’s events. He began to shake his head as the other man told him of the discovery of the doctor’s letter.

“Aldo, non!” he exclaimed at once, a look of sheer terror on his face as he sought out Ant in the crowded room and ran to him. “Antoine, you must do something! You know what this means! Christophe has him!”

Phil thought that Ant actually turned white as the boy’s words sank in. The look he gave Thierry was almost pleading. The others looked equally shocked or confused.

“Who is Christophe?” Mikkal asked, frowning.

The dark fellow - Aldo - said; “Christophe is Thierry’s Dom. He gave him the bruises you see. He has threatened to rape Rayne.”

“Where does he live?” Phil asked Thierry, feeling his chest grow tight.

“In Port Nature, he has a villa near to the place where you found the letter,” the boy almost yelped. “We must do something!”

“We ‘will’ do something,” Mikkal promised grimly. “Show us, Thierry. Take us there!”

For a moment Thierry just froze, looking petrified. Then Ant was by his side, stroking his hair and the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, Thierry, we’ll be with you. We won’t let him hurt you this time,” he promised soothingly.

Mikkal was already on the pontoon shouting across to the other boat as Thierry stepped down from the rear deck, flanked by Ant and Aldo. Phil tagged on behind, unsure whether he was supposed to wait or go with them but ultimately deciding that if Rayne was in serious trouble there was no harm in the safety of numbers. His face turned scarlet when they reached the esplanade and were joined by a handsome, muscular black man and a tall, red-haired fellow to whom the young Englishman needed no introduction. He had jerked off to so many of PJ McNamara’s movies that he was glad now of his baggy tee-shirt and shorts, for his cock jumped to attention at the very sight of the well-hung Irish Porn Star.

“What’s going on?” McNamara demanded at once, taking in the unlikely looking lynch mob with a wry expression on his tanned, comely face.

“I think we know where he’s gone, but he could be in trouble,” Ant snapped, pushing past him and keeping Thierry moving, though the boy’s blue eyes were also wide with awed admiration at the sight of their famous companion.

PJ strode after him at once, keeping pace with him easily as they crossed the main road and Thierry led them through the busy arcade and back into the warren of low rise holiday homes on the other side of Port Nature. Many people stopped and stared or waved as they passed by but PJ was intent on what Ant was telling him. Curtly the fellow related Phil’s story to him and explained Thierry’s belief that Christophe was behind Rayne Wilde’s disappearance. The rest of them might as well not have existed.

SUBMISSION:

Rayne shuddered like a wounded animal as he felt the wave of powerful vibrations rise again, starting at a point somewhere deep in his colon and quivering through every nerve and fibre of his body as it intensified. His heart was beating faster and not just because of the poppers he had inhaled once he was gagged and blindfolded. Christophe had devised a new torment for him once the five men had taken their pleasure with him. When he would not crawl to them, they fastened his cuffed wrists up high behind his back, attaching them to a short strap, which was clipped onto his collar. When he pulled on the strap the collar almost asphyxiated him. His genitals were then caught up in a little device Christophe called a cage, which consisted of a couple of tight, leather straps around his ball sac and the base of his cock and another that fastened around the head of his limp penis. Four short chains connected these so that he could not get fully aroused without feeling discomfort.

He was still on his knees, his ankle cuffs clipped to loops in the tiled floor that spread his legs just wide enough that he could not get to his feet. Rayne fought the blindfold hardest of all, panic rising in him at the idea that they could do things to him that he could not see coming. Next, he was pushed to the floor and penetrated again, by a long, ridged dildo this time, which just kept coming. He moaned behind the padded gag that covered his lips and was secured tightly at the back of his skull, hardly able to breathe as the huge, lubed toy was pushed fully into his intestines.

“This is going to feel so good that you won’t be able to stand it,” Christophe chuckled nastily in his ear. He heard the others echo his captor’s laugh and struggled again, but the pressure on his windpipe was almost enough to choke him so he quickly stopped resisting and tried to keep his hands high enough between his shoulder blades so that they did not pull on the collar. He heard the cap on the little bottle pop and tried to hold his breath when Christophe waved it under his nose. The familiar icy tingle in his nostrils warned him in advance of their intentions but he could not keep from breathing forever and the initial rush of the nitrite made his head swim and left him quivering on his knees, his heart racing uncontrollably.

When Christophe turned on the vibrator inside him, he was already trembling furiously. His sex strained against the restraint of the cage and he struggled again, to no avail. This time the pressure on his throat almost throttled him before he was able to make his arms obey the simplest mental instructions. He was not sure how long they kept the dildo oscillating gently inside him but it had the desired effect. His caparisoned cock was leaking unchecked by the time they turned off the vibrations.

“I think he likes that,” Giovanni laughed wickedly. “Naughty little boy. He wants to cum, doesn’t he?”

“Well he can only cum if he asks nice enough,” Christophe said more firmly. “Are you listening, you little slut? Are you ready to beg your Masters for relief?”

Rayne shook his head adamantly. His limbs were twitching furiously but he struggled to keep his hands high enough, swallowing hard against the leather strap that pulled across his larynx.

“Oh good,” Christophe remarked urbanely. “I ‘am’ going to enjoy this.”

Rayne heard a click and realised with a surge of fury that they were taking pictures of his humiliation. Someone grabbed him by the hair and pulled him upright and then Christophe activated the vibrator once more, turning up the speed a little. Their captive yelped and his lean body bucked against the pulsing in his arse and groin. His breathing came in short, violent bursts as that ticklish sensation rippled through his nerves from the tormented bud of his prostate to his rapidly beating heart and the throbbing head of his pinioned prick. He could hear a pounding in his head that drowned out their muffled voices and laughter. Belatedly he realised that it was his own pulse, jolting away frenetically inside him. His arms and legs ached from the unaccustomed pose and his balls were screaming for relief.

The violent tremors inside him ceased again and he felt cooler air on his face as the gag was briefly removed.

“What do you have to say to us, slut?” Giovanni asked coolly, tugging on his dark hair again to pull back his head.

Rayne caught his breath, panting and sucking the fresh air down into his lungs desperately.

“Fuck you!” he hissed at last. “Fuck all of you!”

“The slut is making a slimy mess on my floor,” Christophe sneered coldly. “Make him lick it up.”

Before he could deliver a sniping response to that command, the rough fingers in his hair pushed his head down to the cold floor and he was jerked backwards so that the ankle cuffs strained against his slender legs. Someone was holding him down in an almost impossible position, with his head virtually between his knees. Rayne felt his senses swim. He could not breathe, let alone speak.

“LICK UP YOUR MISERABLE SPILL!” Christophe bellowed at him and his face was rubbed in the salty wetness on the tiled floor until he was almost sobbing for breath. Weakly he tried to lick the cold tiles but his body was refusing to co-operate. He could feel the stars falling behind his eyes again.

Just as he thought that he would probably pass out and finally experience a little mercy, he was hauled to his knees, huffing and panting like a winded animal.

“Salope!” Christophe shouted at him. “Imbecile! Putain!”

“Give him what he wants,” Giovanni suggested, more levelly. He was breathing hard close to Rayne’s ear, still holding the boy’s dark hair in his clenched fist. From the jerky motions of his body and shortness of breath he was also masturbating hard with the other hand.

Rayne tried to swallow and failed. He tried again.

“Drop dead!”

“I will make you wish you were dead,” Christophe warned him, somewhere behind his head. “Stupid bitch!”

“Tell him what he wants to hear,” Giovanni was whispering in his ear again. “Tell him you will be a good boy for him. You will do as he tells you, si?”

“I’ll die first,” Rayne panted through clenched teeth. “And if I do, Paddy McNamara will have your fuckin’ bollocks for earrings!”

“Why do you have to make this so difficult for yourself?” the Italian wanted to know, unfazed by his threat. “It could be pleasure for you ‘and’ for us.”

“I’m ‘not’ your fuck toy!” Rayne hissed at him, shaking his head and strangling as the collar pulled tight again. “I ‘never’ will be!”

“Gag the little bitch!” Christophe snapped at his fellow tormentor. “We’ll see about ‘that’!”

Rayne shook his head frantically as Giovanni forced the padded gag back over his lips and pulled the straps tight again. When Christophe turned up the vibrator to its top speed his protests became muffled screams of painful stimulation.

INTO THE DUNGEON:

The villa complex at the heart of Port Nature was a maze of coloured, stuccoed single storey dwellings. Most were drowning in bougainvillea and russian vine. More than one had colourful birdcages on the bustling terrace and feral cats slunk around in the shade of tall palms and yucca plants, or dozed on walls in the bright sunlight. When Thierry stopped in front of a plain, whitewashed bungalow with shuttered windows, right at the heart of the miniature village, the others all quickly gathered around him.

“It looks empty,” Mikkal said with a frown. “Locked up, still.”

“He does not open the shutters,” Thierry barely whispered.

“Is this where you found the letter?” PJ asked the still awe-struck Phil, who merely nodded at first then pointed a little further down the avenue.

“It was just around there somewhere.”

“Do we knock?” Ant asked Thierry. “Or have you a key?”

He mimed the action of unlocking a door when the boy just looked blankly at him. Mikkal murmured; “Vous avez la cle?”

“The… key is with my things, inside.” The French boy looked apologetically at him.

“If we knock, the bastard knows we’re coming,” Clay suggested grimly.

“If he has Rayne in there, where are they most likely to be?” PJ asked the French lad speculatively.

“Christophe has a dungeon room in the back of the house,” Thierry explained, his cheeks turning a little pinker. “Maybe they will keep him there.

“Can we get in through a back window?” Ant mused out loud, still glaring at the house as if it had insulted him personally.

“If you break in he’s gonna ‘hear’ you coming,” Aldo pointed out, shaking his head.

“Well what do you suggest? Climb on the roof and shin down the chimney like fucking Santa Claus?” Ant rounded on him. “Let him ‘know’ we’re fucking coming! Let the fucker shit himself!”

PJ heaved a sigh and stepped into the shadow of the terrace. There was a small button set in a ceramic pad, under a grille, by the door and he pressed it now and stood back to wait. For a moment or two nothing happened. Ant stared at him incredulously and Thierry moved behind Aldo looking suddenly nervous. Just as he was about to press the buzzer again, the console above it crackled into life and a hoarse sounding voice demanded sharply; “Oui? Qui c’est?”

PJ beckoned Thierry and Aldo gently pushed the blond boy forward.

“Qui c’est?” the voice reiterated, sounding decidedly irritable.

“Speak to him,” PJ whispered, nudging Thierry up towards the door.

Trembling so fiercely that he could barely walk, let alone speak, Thierry croaked; “C’est moi, Chris.”

The door opened at once and Christophe’s unexpected visitors needed no further invitation. They poured into the villa like a swarm of insects and wasted no time exploring every room in the place. Christophe began to protest as they forced him back up the hallway but in the face of Ant’s cold glare and the sheer bulk of PJ and Clay he did not quibble for long. Mikkal put a protective arm around Thierry as the older Frenchman headed for him instead. Phil moved to stand on his other side and folded his arms, suddenly remembering why he had recognised Thierry. Last time he had seen the boy had been at a fetish club here at the Cap. Christophe had been wearing leather boots and a black peaked cap with a Nazi badge. Thierry had been on a leash at his feet, made up like a little slapper with his wrists cuffed to his thighs. He remembered thinking that the boy looked most uncomfortable.

“Leave him alone,” he warned now. “You’ve done enough to him already!”

When burly strangers burst into the dungeon room, shouting and cursing in English, the remaining torturers scattered like mice before a particularly vengeful cat, fleeing into the bathroom and grappling with the windows in their eagerness to escape. Giovanni held his ground but only until Ant punched him in the head and knocked him to the tiled floor. As the three muscle-bound porn stars inflicted a little punishment of their own on the others, Ant dropped to his knees and wrestled with the straps and cuffs that restrained their quivering captive. Rayne curled up in a tight, defensive ball just as soon as his hands and feet were free. He wrapped his arms around his head and whimpered like a frightened pup, his whole body shuddering uncontrollably. Ant unfastened the gag and blindfold and tried to hold his terrified young friend but Rayne was still squirming and resisting him, moaning more urgently now.

As his concerned lover ran soothing hands over his back and thigh, careful of the red, angry welts raised on his pale skin there, he noticed the black, rubber-covered cord that hung down between Rayne’s buttocks and pulled on it gently, meeting resistance at once. There was a small plastic box on the end of the cord with a switch device and as he flicked the control back down to zero his companion shuddered once more, then curled up more tightly, panting for breath, his hands pressed to his face as if he could not bear to look at anything.

“Sshhhhh,” Ant soothed him, ignoring the shouts and screams and the sounds of fists pummelling flesh as justice was carried out in the next room. “It’s okay. It’s over, baby.”

He pulled more firmly on the cord, recalling Thierry’s words about his lover’s fondness for inserting sex toys into his playmates. The dildo was wedged in tightly but he managed to pull it out after a little careful wriggling and tugging on the cable. Ant exclaimed softly and incredulously over the length of the thing, which had to be at least thirteen inches of pliable black latex. Rayne shivered and gasped breathlessly as it slipped wetly out of him. He moved a trembling hand between his legs now, struggling with the cock cage. Very gently, Ant helped him to remove the tight leather straps and carefully massaged the boy’s raw, sore penis and swollen balls.