The Adventures of Chet Pectoral Part Eleven
INTERLUDE
Hello.
I'm sure your expecting another chapter in the tales of Mr. Pectoral.
Instead, I thought instead you'd join me for a drink.
Well, four drinks actually.
You'll see what I mean soon enough.
Let us imagine that we can travel from place to place together and look in on various people to see how they are doing.
Travel with me to visit a blond boy. Picture him in your mind. He is eighteen, muscular, not a hair on his body from the neck down. His hands are cuffed behind his back and he wears a collar. He's on his knees.
He's drinking . . . cum.
The cum he is drinking is from a larger, much more muscular black man. We recognize him - its Brick. He met this kid in a bar, can't even remember his name. But he sure can suck cock. Even now he has Brick's large cock buried in his throat, his tongue working fast. Brick doesn't moan or give the kid any indication he enjoys the servicing. He simply stands there. Even when he shoots he does not yell for there is no enjoyment in this exercise. It is simply a chore.
If you were to ask Brick how things were he would say "fine" or "great" or "couldn't be better".
But if you could look inside him you would see he was miserable. And, if you were to ask his true self why, he would say because Chet was gone. He liked . . . no . . . loved that boy.
To give him up was terrible.
Brick would laugh if you said that. How could anyone love a guy after so little time. But, that was the way it was. He even called his brother, Vince (yes, that Vince) and checked to see if he could visit Chet. Unfortunately, Chet had already been sent to the Primbatu farm.
The boy finishes taking Brick's load and we watch him stand. Brick unlocks his cuffs and the boy removes them and leaves. He asks for Brick's phone number but Brick refuses to give it to him.
Alone in the room in the bathhouse Brick dresses and leaves, waving his hand for a cab. He decides to go to see Vince. Maybe, later, we'll check in on them and see how they get along.
For now, the winds call us and we move on.
Why don't we look in on the hero of our story and see what he is drinking.
LOL
I know what your thinking now.
Your thinking we're going to check in on Chet.
Do you really think he is the hero of the story.
No, no you don't. Think of Chet as more of the damsel in distress than the hero of the piece. Instead, let's travel to that same barn where Chet has been staying but go to the stall next door. There is a man there.
Do you see him?
He's on his hands and knees, drinking from a dog bowl. There is a collar around his neck and his cock is locked in a cock cage. There are cuffs on his ankles and wrists and he has a large butt plug up his ass. It vibrates inside him.
We know this man too - Austin.
Austin is furious, not because of his captivity or because the plug in his ass is slowly driving him insane. He's mad because he considers himself the most stupid person on the face of the Earth. Even now he wonders how he could have been so unobservant. He was there, in the same car as the boy, and did not recognize him.
It was only later, alone in this stall that he finally figured out who the boy was. In the van he could have done something. He could have rescued the boy and Chet too. Now, he hadn't seen the boy in weeks and Chet had been taken away.
A guard comes into his stall and Austin stays down on all fours. He knows the routine by now. The guard roughly pulls the plug from his ass and then shoves his cock into Austin in one cruel thrust. He begins fucking Austin hard, as he has done every night since Austin arrived. Austin yells and pretends it hurts.
It doesn't.
He's been too well trained for this.
The guard pounds his ass over and over again and Austin takes it all the time thinking about how he can get to the boy.
At least he has had the chance to ask Chet for help.
Together they might be able to save him.
As Austin rides the guard's ten-inch cock let us move on.
We're not going far now.
Just over there, to the main house.
We see Primbatu standing over Chet. Chet drinks. He does not know what it is.
We do.
It's alcohol and something to loosen Chet up a bit.
Believe me, he's going to need it.
Moving on now.
Not much time at all left.
We're going to a bar.
It's in New York City.
The bar has several thousand of men in it, all in leather. The party happens once a year and there is a strict leather dress code. Men on the dance floor moving to the blaring music. Let's go to the bar.
Come on.
Dean is standing there. See him. He has a harness on and jeans and a leather hat pulled down over his face. He's a quarterback on a college football team and he wants to make sure he's not recognized. But he doesn't care either.
He's alone now, drinking water.
Dean did a little drugs earlier, something to forget. Just waiting for the drugs to kick in now.
Later, he'll find someone to go home with. Doesn't matter who it is as long as he can get Dean off and it's anonymous.
Dean has dated guys, some from his own football team on and off but he's found he doesn't want commitment. He only thinks of Chet. Hoping he's alright.
Dean has also been getting into the leather scene. He remembers the leather from the barn and somehow he feels closer to Chet in the leather. It feels right. In fact, he's even been invited to a private party. He said no when he was asked but maybe he'll change his mind. He could sure use the release.
For now he just drinks his water waiting for the drugs to kick in.
It's time to go.
See, wasn't that fun.
Oh, one last thing.
Imagine for a second the dance floor wasn't so crowded. Walk twenty steps away from Dean toward the dance floor. Do you see him? Up on one of the rises?
Look more closely.
Do you see Matt?
No?
Hmmmmmm.
Neither does Dean.
But believe me. Matt sees him, and he watches.
End Chapter Eleven.