In Part 2, Slader and his crew accepted Luke's invitation to invade his ass, and Luke finally got a piece of his dream man. But he can't stop thinking about Slader, the former Marine, porn star, gang leader, businessman...Luke wants to be taken and used by him again, mano a mano, but Slader doesn't want a boyfriend - he wants a SLAVE. Will Luke's resistance to that idea bend,...
In Part 2, Slader and his crew accepted Luke's invitation to invade his ass, and Luke finally got a piece of his dream man. But he can't stop thinking about Slader, the former Marine, porn star, gang leader, businessman...Luke wants to be taken and used by him again, mano a mano, but Slader doesn't want a boyfriend - he wants a SLAVE. Will Luke's resistance to that idea bend, or even break, in the face of his desire for Slader?
This wasn’t the basement he’d found himself in when he’d been kidnapped. There was a rough plywood table with a black pad wrapped around each end. He could see a fat metal pipe running the length of the ceiling. And a mattress, no sheets, no pillows.
Slader shoved him. “Strip.”
Luke threw off his clothes.
“What the fuck!” Slader shouted. He slapped Luke, hard. “Pick this shit up and put it where it belongs!”
“Yes, sir, sorry, sir,” Luke said, scrambling to fold his clothes into a neat pile.
Slader kicked him in the ass with a booted foot. “Put it over in the corner. No, crawl over there, you fucking messy pig.”
Luke crawled on his knees to the corner. “Now stay there. Hands on your head. Press your nose in the corner.”
Slader’s hand grabbed the back of his head like a basketball and shoved it into the corner, the rough concrete scraping Luke’s nose and cheeks. “In the corner means IN the corner, not near it, god damn it.”
“Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir,” Luke said again, keeping his nose squashed against the cold concrete. His heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping. He heard Slader opening the metal cabinet, the doors creaking on their hinges.
He heard Slader clomp across the floor, fast. Slader grabbed his left and wrapped a fat leather cuff around it, sealing it tight where its underside Velcro’d to itself. Then he did Luke’s other hand, and grabbed him by his ears.
Luke involuntarily got to his feet, his body trying to ease the pain of Slader’s hands yanking on his ears as if they were bucket handles. He felt the metal rings in each of the cuffs, cold against his skin, as Slader pressed his hands behind his back and frog-marched him across the floor until he stood under the big pipe in the ceiling.
He saw the hooks wrapped around the pipe, and a second later both hands were up and locked onto them, his arms extended in a Y.
Then he heard the clink of Slader’s belt buckle, and the flap-flap-flap of the belt being whipped out of the loops of his jeans. He heard Slader’s breathing, quickening, excited, and then just a whisper of a whoosh as the belt cut the air.
It landed precisely across his ass, and the surprise lasted only a second before the pain set in. “Ah fuck!” he shouted involuntarily.
Slader cuffed him across the back of the head, not hard, just contemptuously. “Shut the fuck up.”
Whap! Went the belt again. “Mmmph!” escaped Luke’s mouth, the pain too intense to ignore. Slader was an ace – his stroke landed in the same place again, right across the high arch of Luke’s smooth, perfect ass.
This time Slader was up on him from behind, his hand crushing Luke’s mouth shut, his hot breath in Luke’s ear. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Do I need to gag you, huh?”
Luke shook his head no, relishing the feeling of Slader’s hard arm around him, his work-roughened hand on his face, his Marine Corps-hard body slammed into his own gym-fit bod, still nothing like the lean efficiency of the killing machine behind him.
Whap! Luke held his breath this time, but just as he let it out, Whap! The belt hit again in rapid succession. Whap! Again!
“Aaaah!” he shouted, unable to hold it in any longer.
“Fuck,” Slader said, disgusted. “Fucking pussy.” He dropped the belt on the floor and went to the cabinet. When he came back, one hand forced Luke’s mouth open and the other jammed a soft black ball into it, securing the rubber strap around his head. The ball filled his mouth, squashing his tongue.
“Now I don’t have to hear any more of your bullshit,” Slader said.
Brad Vance is a college student in Reno, Nevada who enjoys hiking, snowboarding, theater, and writing hot man-on-man action. Check out his website at bradvanceerotica.wordpress.com for updates and freebies!