Rivals Reunited Part 2
A few weeks earlier...
The note was short, handwritten, and direct. It fell from the pages of his secret notebook and dropped at his feet.
‘Someone has to win the lottery,’ it said, ‘and that someone is you, Bernard. Be ready for my call.’
At first he was filled with fear. What does that note mean? Was it a threat? The book contained all his lustful thoughts, all the plans he had been formulating for years, all the details of the disused tunnels beneath the Gym, and the secret and perverse plans he had for those dark, soundproofed spaces. It also included a scrapbook of sketches, photos and names of those who he would love to invite to join him in his underground layer, whether they liked it or not. And someone has read it.
It was all fantasy, of course, everything in his book. He had neither the resources nor the ability to carry off those dark and evil plans that he sketched out in such detail. Sure, he had turned some of the underground rooms into a dungeon of sorts but he had never thought he would actually use them for their intended purpose. The only part of his plan that had actually come to fruition consisted of nothing more than a few cunningly hidden cameras in the changing rooms, installed with the skill which would have made Bernard a fortune had he ever wished to get into surveillance. Scans from some of the images from those cameras were pasted into the scrapbook, sometimes with crude hand-drawn adaptations, showing how Bernard would really like to see those young bodies.
He was gifted with his hands – he had modified some old gym equipment in his new underground lair, turning it from fitness equipment into instruments of bondage and torture, ready for an opportunity to come his way. But he never got anywhere close to carrying out any of his schemes. It was all fantasy, and it looked like that is all it would ever be. He would just write in his book, and daydream of the day he would be looking down at a young body, tied to a bench or a vicious steel frame, watching the body struggle against its bonds, listening to the pathetic cries for mercy and the irresistible groans of ecstasy as he proceeded one by one through the long list of pleasures he had developed. He was only a short time away from retirement. He had long ago given up hope that his dreams would ever come true.
And then, one day, whilst adding an exciting new sexual humiliation he had just created to his book, he had been called away from the small office for an emergency, and, flustered and angry that the flow of his beautiful insane ideas had been interrupted, he had forgotten to lock the door behind him, and the secret notebook had not been put away in its hiding place behind the loose ventilator,...
The person who found it had just been looking for the caretaker, to get a replacement locker key. Finding the door ajar, He had gone inside and sat down to wait for Bernard’s return. Bored by waiting, his eyes had lazily scanned the small dark room and settled upon the corner of the notebook, sticking out from under some papers. He had a curious personality, and the book looked private, personal. He couldn’t resist taking a look... he had opened it, expecting nothing, and found more than he could handle...
When Bernard returned to his room, the door was ajar. Bernard was surprised – I’m sure I locked it? He peeked inside, cautiously. The room was empty as always. He remembered his rush to leave, and realised his error. He was angry at himself for leaving the door unlocked – there was too much of his special stuff in this room. He locked the door behind him, keen to finish his work. He pulled away the ventilator, to retrieve the book.
Nothing there.
A cold shiver ran up his spine. Surely it was there? Where else could it be? He turned the office upside down in a panic. It must be here somewhere! If anyone found the book he would be finished. At the very least he would be sacked, but with all the details in the book, all the names and pictures...
That night Bernard hardly slept at all. And, across town, someone else was not sleeping, but for different reasons. Someone who had slipped the book into their bag and taken it home, bursting with excitement and arousal, waiting to be alone to explore all the intricacies of the fantasy. There was hundreds of pages in the book, and the reader lay, naked, in bed, unable to get more than a few pages further through before having to reach down and grab themselves, to rub themselves to yet another climax over the twisted schemes written down in such precise detail, over the names of real gym members and how they would be used and abused.
And then he hit page 173 and from then on only two names kept repeating in the pages, over and over again. Two boys and the long and explicitly detailed plans of what the writer wanted to do to them.
Tyler. Kraig.
Bernard finally rose from his sleepless night, and went into work as usual the next day. If someone had found the book, there would be a senior manager waiting for him there. Maybe a security guard. Maybe a policeman. But with the dawn’s early light he had come to a form of inner peace. The book had always been his secret, and yet, getting it out here, in the open – even though his life would be over, he felt an inner relief.
He almost ran into work, ready for the next phase of his life to begin. He walked straight up to the desk, expecting accusing looks, looks of disgust. Looks of fear.
But no one was waiting. Everything was as it always was. He unlocked his office and stepped inside. Nothing had changed, everything the same as before.
He stepped inside, and almost tripped over the brown envelope, lying on the floor where someone had slipped it under the door. He picked it up, and immediately knew what was inside. locking the door behind him, he tore open the envelope and took the notebook out. Nothing was written on the envelope, no sign of who had sent it. He opened the book, flicked through the pages. And that was when the handwritten note fell out.
The phone rang an agonising four hours later, mid-morning, as Bernard drunk his sixth cup of coffee. Bernard knew who it was before he picked the phone up. But any fear he had once had was now gone. Replaced with a dull anger. Someone had intruded into his private space. Someone had read his most private thoughts. Dammit, he was supposed to be the violater, not the other way round!
‘Hello?’
‘Did you get my note?’
A man’s voice. Young. Sensual. Something familiar about it, but some kind of electronic interference. Someone from the gym, perhaps. Yes, that made sense. But who? Bernard was already planning the next chapter of his notebook, detailing the colourful tortures that this mystery man would suffer at his hands, if he ever found out who it was.
‘Yes, I got your note’
‘I read your book.’
Here it comes, thought Bernard. Some attempt at Blackmail, perhaps? This sexy-voiced stud would be in for a long, rough ride, if Bernard ever got his hands on him. He cleared his throat and replied.
‘and?’
‘And I want to help you to do it’
This was not the answer Bernard had been expecting. He thought for a moment.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to help you do the things in your book. All of them. Let me explain...’
Bernard sat back in his chair, mouth gaping open, as the mystery caller laid out his plans.
And part one of a new plan, more complex, more detailed and devious than before swung into action. No longer just a hand written fantasy, for Bernard to jerk off about as he sat alone in his room. No, now it had become possible. More than that, it was going to happen. Bernard was suspicious of his sexy voiced benefactor’s motives, but it was too good an opportunity to turn down. The mystery voice had offered him funding, had told him how to get the knock-out drops he would need. Had told him when and how the capture would take place. How to set up the fake crime scene, so anyone who came looking would be distracted elsewhere. He wouldn’t say who he was, or what he planned to get out of it. But he told Bernard he wanted to turn the book from fantasy into reality. And he wanted the story to begin at page 173, the page that introduced the Gyms’ two sexy 19 year old star athletes, Tyler and Kraig
Last night, Bernard had thought his life was over. Now, for the first time in his life, his fantasy was about to come true. This was turning into one hell of a day.
Page 173 was written on the day when Bernard had watched Tyler and Kraig arguing, and at that moment a revelation took him over. he realised he did not want to see them argue. He wanted to see them brought together to make peace. And to make love. And he wrote on from there, forgetting about all the other studs who were suffering on the earlier pages, concentrating now on just those two, writing dozens of pages about how he would make them make love, in his underground dungeon, where and how they would show their love for each other with the use and abuse of their perfect bodies, how their mouths would wrap around each other’s mouths and kiss and suck and lick, and then other body parts would enter their mouths and their bodies, before they both turned to praise Bernard, to praise his body, and to give him use of their bodies whatever he wanted, for as long as he wanted.
And then after Bernard had had his way, the two willing slaves would willingly and gratefully accept the limitless and unbearable punishments that would be demanded by the beauty of their bodies, the indefinite and unending sexual torture which Bernard devised for them over fifty, a hundred pages of fevered and insane dreams and sexual frustration. And they will keep coming back for more. Oh yes, those boys will suffer beautifully.
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