One of Doyle’s skills was that he was very good at looking. He could just sit, and stare, and pretty soon, without asking any questions, he could work out everything he would need to know about a situation. What made it really special for him was that he loved the simple act of being a voyeur. He loved to peep over fences, through gaps in curtains, into private mail or diaries. He loved to be able to observe things he was never meant to see. Occasionally, he liked to take it a bit further, let his subject know they were being watched, just to get that power kick, the same thrill that ran through him when he was breaking into a house.
Sitting in Bernard’s observation room was like a peeping toms palace to him. Nobody knew he was there, he could just sit, comfortably, and watch through the one way glass as the old man methodically twisted and humiliated those two beautiful studs.
Both of the youths now sported hard-ons, thanks to Bernard’s careful and precise manipulation of their flesh. The shame and humiliation were also clearly visible on their faces – they both knew that their defences were being slowly and meticulously demolished, and the fact that their abuser was able to stimulate them in this way was just one more step on their journey to total submission. They were being taken into slavery one step at a time, and all their youthful power and toned muscles were unable to save them.
The counters on the electric shock device ticked down remorselessly. Tyler had avoided a shock last time round thanks to Kraig, and now it was his time to return the favour. He shuddered at the thought of what horrors awaited him in the little box – he had seen Kraig wince and groan as he pushed his hard organ into the glory hole on his box, and he feared what terrible traps Bernard had placed for him. But, he knew he had to help his poor, exhausted ally. He looked down at his proud cock, standing to attention before him, and the small dark hole in the box, and he slowly moved his pelvis forward, inserting first the cock head, and then the shaft, inch by inch, into the darkness.
He almost jerked backwards when he felt the first, slimy touch on his sensitive skin. What the hell was it? He had visions of his cock rubbing against mouldy fruit, or moss, or some sort of plant life, and he almost relaxed, thinking the worse was over...
Until it moved...
Tyler yelped in surprise and horror. Something alive was rubbing, curling round his cock head. What the fuck? His instant reaction was to pull back, but Bernard, anticipating this, had placed one of his hands behind the youth’s butt, with his finger extended, ready to probe, and as Tyler flinched, he pushed his first digit into the waiting hole, holding him firmly in place, unable to retract from the box.
Tyler shuddered from the intrusion, but his real fear was the unseen life form in the box. Images of snakes, curling round his flesh, fangs drawn, ready to bite...
‘Nooo! Get it off me!’ Tyler yelled, but his captor simply laughed, and pushed harder on his bare butt cheeks, forcing him further into the box.
In the observation room, Doyle switched on the second TV monitor, and as the tube faded up into life, he saw the cause of the boy’s torment. Like in the first box, an infra red camera showed the scene inside the darkened box, with Tyler’s rock hard organ filling most of the screen. At first Doyle could not make out what was going on, because the rest of the box seemed just to be a dark mass of slowly moving indescribable shapes, but it suddenly became clear what he was looking at – dozens of slugs, worms, centipedes and snails, ranging in size from small to huge, squirming and pulsing in the darkness. Some of them seemed to be defying gravity and floating in the air until Doyle realised what Bernard had done – he had somehow lightly fixed or glued several of the larger snails to the lid of the box, so that there was nothing beneath them – nothing, that is, until Tyler’s proud and firm cock slid into view, whereupon the squirming snails were detached from the lid and reattached themselves to the young, pale flesh, leaving trails of slime behind them as the organ pushed further and further into the box.
‘I think my pets like you’ Bernard laughed, as Tyler shuddered and strained against his bindings.
‘Get them off me! Please, master, I beg you, get them off me!’ Tyler cried.
‘You should feel lucky – they’re only a few slugs and snails from the gardens.’ Bernard laughed. ‘They’re harmless. Maybe next time it will be leeches in one of the boxes, or maybe angry live wasps... Imagine what they would be doing to your proud cock now...’
The timer was getting close to zero. With a monumental effort, Tyler pushed all the way into the box, his eyes closed, his mind filled with any images he could think of to blank out the sensations he was feeling...
Kraig’s timer was reset, and Kraig sighed in relief - the last electric shock had been agonising, and having even a fifteen minute escape was like heaven to him.
Tyler sighed also – the task was done. He could pull out of the foul box. But Bernard’s hand held him firmly in place. Tyler tried with all his might to push back, to get himself free of the slug box, but he was bound in a position where he could not use his muscles to their full advantage, and Bernard held him effortlessly in position.
Doyle watched, fascinated, as a large, bloated slug crawled over the top of Tyler’s foreskin, its eye stalks probing forward, the glistening trail of slime extending behind it...
Tears were running down Tyler’s face. ‘Please master. I can’t take it – I can’t take it any more...’
Bernard smiled, and leant in so that his mouth was only half an inch from the boy’s ear. As he spoke he stroked the boy’s dishevelled blond mop of hair, and he allowed his own naked, erect cock to rub against the boy’s exposed thigh. Like a dog on heat, he rubbed himself up and down against the boy’s flesh as he whispered to his captive audience.
‘You will take it, boy, and you’ll learn to love it. You think you can’t take it anymore; well it takes more than a few games like this just to break someone, even a pussy boy like you. This is just the beginning, slave. You think today is the worst day of your life, but you are wrong. Tomorrow will be worse, and the week after that, and the week after that, worse and worse until you learn to love your true master, unreservedly and forever. There will be no relief, no escape, not even when you give up any idea of escape or a return to your old life. Not until you accept, with all your heart and your soul that I am all that matters, and all your muscles and flesh exist for one purpose only, that is, to give me pleasure.’
As if to emphasise the point, Bernard opened his mouth, and stuck the end of his foul, bloated tongue into the helpless boy’s ear.
Tyler shook his head, violently. No- he would never submit. He will never become a mindless slave to this pervert...
Bernard stood back to admire his creations. The blond boy was sobbing uncontrollably, his fine chiselled chest rising and falling. The brown haired boy was silent, glaring with those dark, almost Mediterranean eyes. They were now both set for their long night. Bernard would have loved to stay, but he already had his plans for the next day mapped out, and he needed his sleep.
Suddenly Bernard announced to his two captives that he was going to bed. Unable to resist a final taunt, Bernard described in detail the comfort and pleasures of his own bed, knowing full well that neither boy would be getting any sleep that night, strapped up as they were to his malicious electric shock machine. Bernard went to the door, and opened it.
In the observation room, Doyle knew he had only a few seconds in which to find a hiding place, because he knew instinctively that Bernard would be coming into this room, to watch the show. Although the room had various cabinets and cupboards around the sides, there was only one obvious place to hide – directly in front of the armchair was the table which supported the monitors and video equipment. Doyle ducked under it, just before Bernard entered the room.
Staying totally silent, Doyle watched as Bernard lowered his overweight frame into the armchair. From where he was hiding, he could only see the man from his legs up to his stomach. He smelt that same, stale odour that he had detected as the man had passed him in the corridor, only this time, in the confined space, it was even more rancid than before. Doyle silently clamped one of his hands over his nose, and waited. He was good at waiting.
Bernard was only a few feet away from where Doyle was kneeling, hidden from view under the table, and Doyle had a clear, but unwanted, view of Bernard’s cock, which was erect, and Bernard’s hand, caressing it. He heard the low, animal grunts coming from Bernard’s throat, and the tinny, loudspeaker sound of the two boys in the room.
After a few minutes, there was a sharp crackle of noise from the speaker. Doyle guessed another fifteen minute segment was up, and the studs were receiving their electrical punishment. The old man’s cock in front of him was jerked even more vigorously as the abuser watched his two victims going through another round of torture at his hands. Doyle could not see the scene from his hiding place, but he had seen enough to visualise it in his own head, and for that visual to send a warm pulse from his mind down to his own cock.
‘Yes, that’s right, you fucking bitches’ Bernard murmured, under his voice, as he pumped more firmly at his hard cock. ‘You’re getting what you deserve now, aren’t you...’
Doyle looked at the man’s flabby lower body, and he hoped that guy would point his cock somewhere else, as Doyle had no interest in getting a spurt of that old guy’s cum in his face. But already he was wondering... why would Bernard sit in here, jerking off, when he’s got two bodies totally at his command, just in the next room? To Doyle’s way of looking at things, although he could appreciate the voyeuristic element, it made no sense to have sex with your own hand when you could just walk next door and have the real thing... why eat at the self service buffet when there’s a free, five star meal waiting?
He received a partial explanation as Bernard’s masturbation suddenly came to an unexpected halt. Bernard was muttering to himself again, not knowing anyone was listening.
‘No...no... I can’t....’ Bernard muttered. ‘I must... hang on until tomorrow. Save my energy... Dammit! Dirty scum. Fucking sexy scum...’
Doyle watched as Bernard stood up, and stormed out of the room. A few seconds later, he heard him banging, violently, on the torture room door, before he heard it fly open, and Bernard began yelling. Doyle was amazed at the fury, the insane anger in the old man’s voice. He slipped out from under the table, to watch the display through the one way glass.
Bernard was standing right next to where Tyler was bound, screaming directly into his face. Tyler tried to recoil, but was too well bound. Instead, he closed his eyes in fear as Bernard yelled abuse directly into his face.
‘Damn you, you fuck pigs!’ Bernard yelled, ‘You tried to entice me with your sexy bodies again, didn’t you! Tried to get me to use myself up before our big day tomorrow! Well, it didn’t work. I’m on to you, do you hear? And tomorrow I’m going to make you pay for trying to tempt me! You think you’ve seen cruelty from me? You ain’t seen nothing yet!’
As if to prove his point, Bernard grabbed a whip, which was lying on the floor. Without a pause for breath, he gave each boy a half-dozen full, hard swipes across the chest. Doyle winced with each impact, the crack of the whip was so loud and sharp he expected to see the bodies cut open and bleeding, but the whip simply left bright red welts across the skin – Doyle wondered if the whip was more for show than for actual torture. Whatever, the yells from the studs were real enough – they were feeling it all right. Such was the insanity in Bernard’s voice that Doyle was sure the beating would continue until each boy was a bloody, pummelled mass, but the rage seemed to disappear from Bernard as quickly as it arrived. Bernard simply stopped. Stared at the red raw marks he had just created across those muscled torsos, and then, with almost a delicacy, he ran his left palm over the wounds, feeling the heat that the bodies gave off. He dropped the whip to the floor, and exited the room without another word, leaving the boys panting and sweating in their bindings.
Doyle returned to his hiding place, expecting Bernard to return at any second, but he did not. He listened intently, until he heard the sound of the hidden door being closed, and he knew he was alone. Cautiously, he extracted himself from under the table, and began to properly examine his surroundings.
Firstly, he quietly made his way back up the corridor to the hidden doorway. He was pleased to note that he could open the door from the inside, by means of a large spring loaded catch. He exited the room, and went up past the boiler to the boiler room door. This could also be opened from the inside. Good, he thought. I’m not stuck here all night. He returned and made a more thorough examination of the basement.
Time passed slowly in the games room, marked only by the constant, merciless ticking clocks, ever descending towards another burst of pain and misery.
Alone again, Kraig and Tyler hung opposite each other, their skin buzzing from the whip and the cold air in the basement. For the time being both boys had managed with some success to prevent the return of the electric shocks, however tiredness and exhaustion was beckoning, and beginning to cloud Kraig’s judgement. He had no idea how long they had been rigged up to the machine – one hour, two, four maybe? He hoped it was longer, but he knew there would be no such luck. So far, both he and Tyler had somehow managed to keep themselves stimulated enough to avoid the majority of the shocks, although staying hard constantly was impossible, and summoning the willpower to re-energise their organs was proving harder and harder as every minute passed.
Kraig noted his comrade had slipped into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep. There was about five minutes until the timer reached zero again, and he knew what this meant – that when the time came, Tyler would not be pushing the button to prevent Kraig getting his latest dose of electrical torture. Kraig’s irrational anger began to boil inside him again, once more focused on the totally innocent stud imprisoned opposite him. Yet again this pathetic blond was leading him to pain and humiliation, he thought. I’ve done my best for him, I’ve tried to save him from the pain, and this is how he repays me?
‘Wake up!’ Kraig hissed, angrily. Tyler stirred briefly, but did not awaken.
‘Wake the fuck up!!!’ Kraig yelled. The sleeping youth stirred again, and his eyes opened, as if they were supporting a hundred tons of weight.
‘Uh... I wasn’t sleeping... I was just resting my eyes...’ Tyler murmured.
‘We can’t sleep. We have to stay awake’ Kraig hissed, urgently. ‘You gotta go back into the box. You have to push the button. There’s only a few minutes left. I can’t take many more of these shocks...’
‘I know man, I know...’ Tyler groaned. ‘I’m trying. I’m trying. But how can I keep it up? I can’t get that fucker’s image out of my mind. He wants to break me... He wants to make me into a slave...’
‘You have to blank him out’ Kraig begged. ‘You have to, man. Please. Do it for me... Look, imagine this. Imagine it’s that girl from the gym, you know, she...’
‘I Can’t!’ Wailed Tyler. ‘It’s not working. I can’t see her...’
‘All right. OK. Just, well, just look at me. Look at me, Tyler...’
Tyler looked up, ashamed, into Kraig’s eyes.
Kraig swallowed. He was going out on a limb here, but he had to try anything.
‘Look at my chest, Tyler. Look at my stomach, my pecs and abs. Imagine me, before you...’
Tyler shook his head, vigorously. ‘No, Kraig, please, I don’t...’
‘There’s no time for that now, Tyler. We’re in a situation. You have to trust me. Look at my body. I have a good body, don’t I? Sexy, strong, toned. You can use me; use my image to help you... Imagine me kneeling before you, Tyler. Not here, but outside, in the sunshine. Maybe the beach or the park, just the two of us, alone, together. We’ve taken our shirts off because it’s warm, and we’re both sweating. Not a care in the world. Just the two of us. And you... you’re wearing those sexy jeans, the tight blue ones, the ones that really show off your body. Now I’m.. I’m undoing the buttons on your jeans, one at a time...’
Tyler continued to shake his head. ‘No... no... he mumbled, but his voice was soft and subdued now, and a rosy red bloom had appeared over his face. Despite his best wishes to the contrary, he was beginning to visualise what Kraig was saying, imagining the two of them together, not just two young friends hanging out together, but more than that... much more... he felt the first stirrings in his crotch, and to his shame he felt himself begin to get aroused... Was it only two or three days ago that he would never have considered another man?
‘You are a powerful, virile man, a masculine god; your body is envied by all who see it. I’m undoing your jeans carefully, slowly. Making each button count. My face is right in front of your crotch, and you have both your hands in my hair, caressing and rubbing my scalp. You want this. You want this more than anything you have ever experienced. I undo the last button and then gently, so gently, I pull your blue jeans down to your knees. Just a pair of cotton shorts between us, now, and already you are beginning to grow within them. I want to dive in, to take you right away, but instead I just gently kiss the material, feeling the firm shape underneath, listen to you groan in pleasure. You feel the dampness of my mouth through the material. My fingers rise to the waistband, and begin to pull the shorts downwards, slowly, lovingly. Your cock comes into view, full and ready. I lick my lips, slowly, savouring the moment, and then I move forward...’
Kraig’s words, so sensual and intimate, Were like fire within Tyler’s loins. He desperately, desperately wanted his former rival to cross those few feet of floor between them and turn the words into reality, but the bindings held firm, cruelly keeping them apart.
‘My tongue makes contact. Firstly as light as a feather, then more firmly, finding a prominent vein and tracing it’s path along the shaft, starting at the base and moving upwards, upwards until we reach the head. I move in, and kiss the foreskin, manipulating it between my lips. Your hands tense up on my scalp, grabbing and releasing handfuls of my hair as you go into a state of ecstasy. I lift my head higher, just above your erect cock, and then I descend, onto the shaft, my lips parting at the last moment, the tip of my tongue making contact with the exposed cock head. I push down harder, forcing the skin to pull back, revealing the full sensitive head, which I enclose within my mouth. You begin to groan and tense, your arms tight now, your head thrown back, your eyes closed. Nothing else exists for you now except my mouth and my agile, examining tongue. I press down further, taking you in deeper, deeper. My mouth is warm and moist, and deep... That is not a box in front of you, it is my mouth. My warm, damp mouth, which is waiting, ready for you...Time is almost up, Tyler. Put it into my mouth. Put it deep inside, into my throat. Push down, into my stomach. Impale me on your cock. Do it now...’
Tyler’s eyes were clamped shut as the images from Kraig flooded his mind. The clock was ticking down. Last few seconds... He thrust forward, a single, sharp movement, and made contact. The switch deactivated. He felt the now familiar, slimy antennae probing his manhood, but the sick sensation had passed. What he really wanted to feel, right now, was the lips of the boy opposite him, closing over his flesh, ready to take his fluids... Tyler groaned, because he had such a strong sexual urge building, yet he could not reach his organ to finish himself off. He felt so close, so close... but there would be no release.
He wailed in dismay, the howl of a young wild free buck that has been captured, bound and domesticated, feeling the limits of his new caged life, and his energy draining away, unused...
Another fifteen minutes over. Many more to go...
Over the next few hours, Doyle’s plan began to develop. Bernard’s little observation room contained all of Bernard’s personal papers, his sketches and designs for bondage equipment, his bills and tools, and most importantly, his diary. Just as Kraig had done weeks earlier, Doyle went through the book page by page, marvelling at the evil ingenuity of the man. Dozens, hundreds of pages of mechanical, chemical, electrical and thermal tortures, some so devious and twisted that it took Doyle several viewings to work out what they were meant to do. And they weren’t just ideas, either. Many of the devices sketched in the book were lined up and ready in the corridor, waiting to be used.
Doyle’s first thought had been blackmail, but he soon discarded this. It was quite clear from this diary that Bernard was not a rich man. There were these opaque references to ‘another man’ who apparently had money and power, but it seemed likely from what Bernard had written that he had as little idea of the man’s identity as Doyle did. Besides, blackmail will only get you so far, and what Bernard had created here was more valuable. He would have to identify who this other mystery man was, but first things first...
Doyle’s devious mind began to move sideways, as he watched the two hunks through the glass, struggling again to save themselves from the unwanted torture. No, this guy had created something more valuable than he realised. Those two were more than just your average muscle-bound hunks; there was something else to them, something more powerful, more erotic. Doyle could not put his finger on it yet, but there was some... chemistry, for want of a better word, going on in that room. That was a far more rare and exotic commodity. There was no shortage of dead-eyed, beautiful but lifeless studs out there in the world. There were people who would pay good money to go one step further and take something with the passion of what was going on in this basement. They were young, too, just in their late teens, he estimated, which meant they had the potential for many years of use ahead of them. This was too good a thing for Bernard to have all to himself, he decided. Now the only question was, how to proceed?
Doyle’s criminal lifestyle meant that he moved in a wide range of social circles, and had brushed up against all kinds of rich weirdos at one time or another in the past. He had tried to keep his distance, because to be honest, some of them scared him a bit. They had too much money and their brains were too twisted – you could never trust someone like that. They did terrible, permanent things just because it gave them a few minutes amusement, and they had all the expensive lawyers to keep them out of trouble.
Something was ringing a bell in his mind, somewhere. He racked his brains. There had been that big house, huge, up north... he was trying to remember the name of the guy, some multi millionaire, worked in computers or some such thing.
Doyle had been there once, he had been up there selling something or other to the guy who lived there, a creepy looking guy with a posh accent, and the guy had told him there was a party happening that night, and he was welcome to hang around.
Now normally, Doyle never turned down an invite to a party, if only to scope out his next potential burglary victim, and so he waited around as the afternoon moved into dusk. But there was something odd about the whole set up. There were trucks coming and going, and whatever they were unloading, it certainly didn’t look like party food. He noticed the people’s faces as they turned up in their expensive cars, with their bodyguards, and he didn’t like what he saw. There was greed, and lust, and hate in those faces. Whatever this party was going to be, he felt an overwhelming urge to not be there, and he trusted his impulses. He made his excuses and left, and didn’t look back. He remembered the creepy guy’s final comments...
‘Are you sure you want to leave? This will be a party that you will never, ever, forget...’
Clancey. That was the guy’s name. Maybe he would be the kind of guy who would be interested in something like this? He was certainly rich, and he was most certainly weird.
Doyle took one more look through the glass at the two boys. He was sorely tempted to go in there and have a bit of fun himself, but he had clocked the CCTV camera in one corner of the room, and he was not so foolish to be caught. He snapped a few mobile phone camera images of the scene, and then quietly exited. He would have to enjoy the company of his right hand tonight, but his time would come. Oh yes, his time would come, and soon.
Doyle slipped out of the building the same way he had come in.
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