The Telemachus Story Archive

First Day
Chapter 2
By Telemachus

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Three street punks crowded around Tom's unconscious form.

"See, I told you it'd be easy" said Spike smugly, like the others he wore faded blue jeans and a black leather biker jacket over a black tee-shirt. He was a big guy, about Tom's size and shape.

"Geez, did you see the way the fucker struggled?" said Butch. "Bet he didn't know what hit him" he sneered. Butch wasn't as tall as Spike and was wider, though his bulk was more the product of beer than exercise.

The third kid knelt down and pushed Tom's face from side to side. It flopped back and forth and his cap became dislodged, falling backwards onto the concrete path. "Sleepy-byes, big security guard" he sniggered. Dog was the smallest of the three. Slim and wiry, he was a vicious fighter when roused but he always deferred to Spike.

"OK guys" said Spike "Fun's over, now lets strip him". The three punks got to work on Tom's sleeping form. Sitting him up, they unfastened his tunic and slid it off, the shirt and tie came next. Then while Butch and Dog removed Tom's shoes and trousers, Spike started to strip. He put on the uniform piece by piece, finishing off by placing the cap firmly on his head, hiding his short jet-black hair.

"How do I look" he said. Butch and Dog nodded their approval, Spike stood smartly upright, looking every inch the security guard. In the darkness, no one could tell him apart from Tom.

"Right, stage two guys". Spike strode off into the darkness heading back the way Tom had come. Dog following close behind.

Butch watched them leave then looked down at the big jock stretched out on the ground before him. "Sorry buddy, but now I've got to keep you quiet. Just some rope and a gag, you might even like it!" He smiled to himself as he knelt down with the thin rope in his hand. He put his hand around the back of Tom's neck and pulled him up into a sitting position. He shuffled around behind Tom and let him flop back against his chest as he reached for Tom's wrists. As he did so he noted that Tom's physique was not just smooth, but really well defined. Pausing in his task of binding and gagging his new prisoner, Butch allowed his hands to roam across Tom's chest, feeling the flat, solid muscle of his pecs, the tough six-pack of his abs, the steel-wire cords in his upper arms. As he did so he felt his own dick give a kick. He was really enjoying this. He lowered Tom until he was flat on his back and then he began to explore Tom's lower regions. He pulled down Toms pants and watched as the thick uncut dick flopped out. Butch bent over and took Tom's dick in his mouth as he slid his hands under Tom's ass, feeling the hard, round muscle of the jock's trim, bubble butt. It tasted good, and now his own dick was rock-hard. "Sorry buddy, but I've gotta fuck that cute little ass of yours" he whispered to his unconscious sex slave. He pulled off Tom's pants completely, then knelt down between the jock's legs, how own dick now fully exposed to the cool night air. He heaved up on Tom's legs, exposing his rosebud asshole. A condom on his own dick (he always kept some handy) and his dick was sliding in and up Tom's super cute ass. He looked down at his captive, Tom's short blonde hair framing that relaxed, sleeping face. He pounded away at Tom's ass, his pleasure rising and rising, he closed his eyes, this was the best fuck he had had in a long time. As he moved inevitably towards climax, he didn't notice Tom's eyes fluttering.

Butch shot his load deep into Tom's butt, he gasped as the orgasm shook his body with sexual pleasure. Finally, he started to relax. Exhausted and panting, he bent forward, his sweat dripping onto the smooth torso below his head. And he found himself looking into Tom's clear, blue eyes.

Before Butch could react, a rock-like fist smacked into his jaw hurling him sideways. He crashed onto the concrete and rolled over onto his back, spark out.

"What the fuck are you doing with my ass" whispered Tom through gritted teeth. He tried to stand, but fell back to the ground again, he still felt dizzy, uncoordinated. He paused while his head cleared, trying to figure out events.

"Chloroform, the fuckers used chloroform to knock me out. And they took my uniform!" The sudden realization that, apart from his socks, he was totally nude, and that his uniform was nowhere in sight sent a shiver of panic down his spine. Just what the fuck was going on?

He checked the unconscious street punk. The kid was going nowhere, not for some time, but to make sure he tied the thin rope around his captives wrists and ankles. Then he spotted the pile of clothing left by Spike. He quickly put on the jeans and tee-shirt, anxious to cover his nudity. He hauled on the biker boots and set off at a run back to the control room.

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