Copyright 2022 -- Daemon D. Hart
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In It For Life
The sounds of the city were nothing like the ones of a forest on a godforsaken island, but Francesco could tell when there was danger afoot. Someone was clearly following him. His skin prickled with apprehension, and he moved on the other side of the street, pushing his fists deep into his pockets and tensing his entire body.
Did he look like someone worth mugging? He seriously doubted it, but crazy people were everywhere, the hour was late, and he cursed himself for choosing to walk home especially in a wet and cold weather like that.
His head had been too full of thoughts lately. Thoughts of Karl and Mouse, and their fucked up situation. At least, they kept him busy, but now, he was pissed for not paying better attention to his surroundings.
He hurried toward the faint light of a diner making the wet street shine in streaks of happy colors. If he got there, he would be safe. No one would be crazy enough to attack him in a room full of people having a late dinner, right?
His breath came in short and he began walking faster. The steps behind him picked up the pace, too. Francesco blinked hard, to chase away the tears threatening to form to the corners of his eyes. Could it be that he had gone through so much, only to become the hapless victim of some junkie? But no, he would put up a fight.
He was looking down, counting the seconds until he would reach the safe haven of the diner. A solid body stood in his way, and he stopped a moment too late.
"You're late for an important meeting, kid," a harsh voice said.
Francesco looked up and tried to take a step back, but another body stopped him. The man in front of him was a stranger, but everything about him, his stature, his cold eyes, his dark suit, told him everything he needed to know.
He shouldn't have felt fear of random muggers. These guys were pros, and they had to be part of the retinue of a certain very important person. A longing look to the diner and the yellow light of its windows, and his feet sprang into action.
It was nothing but a futile attempt, of course. He tasted the scent of leather as his mouth was covered, and he was lifted from the ground like he weighed nothing. And soon, it was dark, as a black blindfold was tied over his eyes.
Francesco knew better than to ask stupid questions. He tried to pick up sounds, or anything that could be of value to establish his surroundings. They were inside a car, moving, probably a van, because he was on the floor, and as he stretched his arms and legs, all tied up, too, he didn't bump into any seats.
The men who had taken him were completely silent, and you could hear a fly in that quiet. Only the sound of an engine was the audible sign that they were on the move.
A foot rested against his ribs, and Francesco stood still.
"No sudden moves, kid."
Francesco nodded, not knowing whether the other could see him. The threat was clear, no sudden moves or his lung would get perforated in a split second by his broken ribs, and he would taste blood in the back of his throat.
Whatever they had in mind for him, Francesco didn't want to compromise his chances of being able to run. For the moment, he had no choice.
"Good," the man said but didn't remove his foot, letting it move slightly to the rhythm of Francesco's now panicked breathing.
He waited for them to take him out of the van, and only then tried to kick fast and hard to free himself. A kick to his side made him growl in pain.
"Shut his fucking mouth," the man who seemed to be in charge ordered.
Francesco tried to bite, but that only helped his aggressor to gag him faster. Shit was real. He would probably end up in a ditch somewhere, never to be found, before the clock struck twelve at midnight.
He tried to pace his breathing. He wasn't dead yet, which meant that they had plans with him, plans that didn't involve getting rid of him at least for a few more precious minutes. He needed to think, think harder, but what could he do with all his limbs tied, his mouth gagged, and his eyes blindfolded?
There was a change in the air, and Francesco realized that they must have stepped somewhere inside. More important, it didn't seem to be some kind of warehouse, or anything like that, but...
A house. He used his nose to gauge as many details as he could. The temperature had to be regulated, which meant there had to be air-conditioning units. The interior smelled pleasant, and something of the scents he could grasp told him that they had to be in a mountain cabin or a similar type of place.
He was forced to stand on his feet, and quickly, his arms and legs were released. The gag was pulled away from his mouth, and the blindfold dropped from his eyes. Francesco blinked for a couple of moments, as he took in his surroundings. He hadn't been far off; he was inside an office, but one adorned with the head of a buck with large antlers high on the wall opposed from him.
Everything was in earthy tones, and there was even a fireplace on the wall to his left. Then, Francesco's eyes fell on the man sitting behind a large desk that shouted unearned luxury at him in all its details.
"Hello, Francesco."
"Fuck," he barely managed as he took in the man's harsh features.
On TV and in magazines, he seemed so far away, but now, he was there in flesh and blood, and his eyes were so cold that even the warm light coming from the fireplace got lost and sucked in in the sudden frigid air of the room.
Maybe all that was his imagination and nothing more. Francesco stood still and anchored his gaze to the cold stare pining him in place. Strangely enough, he felt suddenly calm. His brain gears began to turn. "Nice to meet you, sir," he found himself talking. "I was just thinking we two should talk about Karl."
The cold eyes glinted with surprise. Then, the man smiled, and his smile was just as made of ice. "You were?"
"Yes," Francesco said without blinking. "Seeing how the two of us go a long way back, and I haven't gotten to meet his family once."
The man had one hand on the desk, while his other was obscured from view. Could it be that he had a gun and was about to execute Francesco, mafia-style? Somehow, it didn't suit him. He appeared to be the kind of guy who minded having his personnel scrub bits of skull and brain from the walls.
Which meant that, at least, he wouldn't be disposed of there, in that room.
The man began to tap rhythmically on the wood. He was obviously strategizing. "Of all the cocks in the world, did you really have to get hung up on my son's?" he suddenly asked.
The suits in the room, four, Francesco counted, shifted slightly. They probably didn't know all the details of why a kid like him was there, and now they were getting an unwilling front seat to a salacious family drama like no other. Francesco could bet some were not that happy to be there, or maybe he didn't know jack shit.
"It wasn't my choice, really," Francesco replied coolly. "He basically raped my ass until I learned to enjoy it. You can't blame me for it."
The man snorted and changed his position. He joined his hands under his chin and examined Francesco with his washed out eyes. "But that wasn't your first ride on the cock carrousel, was it, Francesco?"
There was something unnerving in how the man kept telling his name, like he owned him or some shit.
"I hadn't enjoyed that, either, but no one cared to ask me if I did," Francesco replied, digging his fingernails into his palms. If this rich dude thought he could blame him for being with Karl, he needed to think again.
"And yet, right now, you can't seem to get enough of my son's cock."
"Maybe he's that good," Francesco found himself saying. He was crazy. He should have been on his knees, begging for his life, but instead he was goading this crazy motherfucker into erasing him from all existence. He could do it, with the flick of his wrist. The thing was Francesco doubted any amount of begging could work with the guy.
"Oh, really?" The man leaned back into his armchair and narrowed his eyes. "Do you know what I see, Francesco?"
"I'm not you, sir. You'll have to tell me," he replied, willing the trembling in legs to stop already.
"I see," the man began slowly, "a cum-hungry whore who somehow thinks that he could ruin my son's life by shaking that bony ass in front of him."
This dude had to do better to insult him. Francesco offered a thin smile. "There's nothing bony about my ass, with all due respect, sir." Just like Karl, he let two beats pass before adding the honorific.
That seemed to have an effect. The man set his jaw hard. "Fuck him," he ordered. "Make sure he cannot walk by the time you're finished with him."
Francesco laughed, the sound of it making his own hair rise on his head. "And if I can?"
"If you can what?" the man asked.
"If I can still walk when your men are finished with me, can we have a proper talk about Karl?"
The man's gaze suffered a sudden shift. Francesco recognized that glint. This dude was a gambler. "Sure. If you can still walk. But I'll make sure you have enough cock today that it will last you a lifetime, cocksucker."
Francesco doubted it. He'd never have enough of Karl, but that wasn't something he wanted to bring up right now. He didn't protest as the men seized him, undressed him and forced him on the couch to the right, ass in the air. From there, he stared at Karl's father and locked eyes with that cold stare, determined not to lose.
He heard someone spitting and fingers at his backdoor. Really? They were showing him more courtesy than Karl back then when forced meant the only way they had sex.
"He's not your girlfriend," the senator called gravely. "Just give him what he needs in his life. And someone make him choke on some cock already."
Francesco didn't protest as his chin was grabbed roughly, and a man moved behind the couch to get him in proper position to swallow the member pushed through his lips. He opened wide and took the guy into his throat. A small grunt above him confirmed what he needed to know. He looked up and saw the suited man give him a surprised look. Francesco winked at him, and the guy pushed down harder.
The time for preparations was over and a hard cock moved inside his ass. Francesco spread his legs as wide as possible and squeezed his muscles to make the guy behind him grunt in disbelief. As difficult as it was in that position, he forced himself to look at Karl's dad who stared at the entire scene with unhidden fascination.
He willed both his throat and ass to relax and take those big hard cocks, but he didn't close his eyes, not for one moment.
"Damn this kid," the man above him cursed and held his head while pumping his throat and stomach full of jizz.
Francesco could tell the one behind him found himself coming a bit too soon, too, but that was the point. The other two took the places of the guys that had just finished, and this time, he upped the ante. He began moaning around the cock in his mouth, and began moving his ass to squeeze the guy fucking him.
Soon, the men's heavy breathing could be heard. Francesco pushed himself up and licked his lips. "This cannot be all you have in you, guys," he taunted them and moved on the guy in charge, the one that had held his foot on his ribs in the van and began to lick his cock and make it big again.
The man grabbed him by the hair and began to skull-fuck him fast. Francesco didn't mind. The rougher they were, the sooner they came. They were that kind of men, and Francesco had seen worse.
"What about my ass?" he asked after a third load was released down his throat and pushed two fingers inside his hole.
He spread it wide and shook his ass. His hips were grabbed hard and a swollen cock was trying to reach inside, deeper than before.
"Come on, people," he taunted them. "Is this all you have for a cum-hungry whore like me?"
He grunted as the slap took him by surprise.
But more surprising was the bark coming from the man behind the desk. "Did I tell you to hit him? Just fuck him if you can, or I'll find a replacement."
"Apologies, sir," the man replied right away.
Francesco didn't protest as another cock filled his mouth and throat. Why didn't Mr. Big Shot Senator allow his men to beat the shit out of him? That was something he could work with. He had expected a lot worse. But fucking? He could deal with that, he could deal with it for hours.
Francesco felt his backside on fire, his jaw was hurting, and his entire body quivered from exhaustion. He moved slowly between the suited men, trying to squeeze the last drops of ball juice, but it looked like their reserves were depleted.
One of them growled and pushed him away from his sensitive cock.
"All done?" Francesco asked and pushed himself to his feet. He was trembling, but this wasn't a fight he intended to lose. It could all go wrong at any moment, but there was still hope, and he was hanging out to it. He had denied his own cock the pleasure of coming, because this wasn't about getting off. It was about getting on top, and proving to Karl's dad who he was. And during all that time, his mind had worked in overdrive.
The men didn't meet his eyes, so he turned on his heels and walked slowly toward the desk, ignoring how his body screamed at him to drop to the floor and rest. Cum was pouring down the inside of his thighs, his hair was sticky with it, and more of it was turning crusty on his chest and face, but he was standing and that was the only thing that mattered.
"Well?" he said trying to make his words sound effortless. "Here I am, standing."
He grabbed the edge of the desk and leaned over it. The senator continued to stare at him like he was an annoying problem that needed solving.
"Get out!" the man suddenly bellowed.
Francesco set his jaw hard. He couldn't move if it killed him. He needed to stand like that, grabbing at the desk with all his might, or he would crumple into a useless heap at this man's feet.
There was shuffling about behind him, and only then he realized that the shouted command hadn't been aimed at him.
The door finally closed, leaving them alone.
The senator leaned back into his chair again. "Talk," he ordered, but in a much measured voice.
Francesco hadn't expected that but hoped for it. "Karl has it bad for boys' asses and that's a fact, sir. You can get rid of me, whatever, but he'll just find another boy pussy to fuck. It would be much better for you to work with someone with a bit of brain that would never put Karl in hot water."
"Are you someone with a bit of brain?" The man's thin unpleasant smile announced nothing good, but Francesco continued.
"Yes, I am."
The senator shifted in his place, crossing his legs. Francesco couldn't see, but he bet someone hadn't been completely left unaffected while watching his bony ass getting fucked for hours and taking load after load.
He placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. "Do you want to be pegged as a closed-minded relic, senator? Accepting your gay son into your loving arms and being upfront about it will give you the edge you need. I saw your numbers. Not looking that good. Your staunch supporters will always be there for you. But what about the rest? You know, those extra voters," he said slowly, "that could put you ahead of competition."
Karl's dad looked into his eyes. "I didn't know my son was fucking some political analyst."
"Ain't nothing of the kind, sir. But I do read the papers," Francesco replied.
"So, let me get this straight. You expect me to give up on the alliance I prepared for the family, and yes, I'm talking about Karl's approaching wedding, only so that you and he can fuck like stupid rabbits?"
Francesco shrugged. His strength was waning by the moment. He rested his head against his right shoulder. He stank so badly of cum. "No, nothing like that. Hell, if you ask me, I'll never see Karl again." Not true, not for one moment. "But he'll just find another guy and fuck him. And who's to tell that guy won't go to the media with that awesome juicy detail in his teeth? How about that? How will Bea feel about it?" He let that name sink in for a moment. "At least I'm loyal. I'll never do anything to cause Karl's name to appear in some stupid tabloid's headlines."
"Or Karl could just get fucking married and put a stop to this nonsense," the senator replied.
"Don't mind me saying this, sir, but if that were true, I would be sleeping with the fish right now."
For a moment, the senator looked at him like he was about to explode. But, the next moment, much to Francesco's surprise, he started laughing. "You're a whore, Francesco, but, indeed, you're one with a bit of brain in that skull of yours."
Francesco laughed, too, but he was leaning on one side more and more.
"Let's see. Get under the desk."
The order caught him unawares, but Francesco was glad to get on his knees and squeeze himself under the desk.
The senator opened his fly with sure moves and a hard throbbing cock almost hit Francesco in the face. "You know what to do with it, little whore. Make sure you do a good job if you really care about Karl that much."
tbc
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The last story I wrote for my subscribers is called Shotgun Shine and part two of the Danny Boy series. A young man who got kidnapped and fucked by a criminal in the first part of the story now goes looking for cock in a seedy bar where he's ganged upon and gets some punishment on his cock and balls. Ace, his kidnapper from before, walks in, saves his ass only to fuck him all night long and humiliate him in various ways. This story contains different kinks, like BDSM practices, humiliation, forced and reluctant sex, and many others. You can read part of this story on my blog: https://daemondhart.blogspot.com/2022/02/shotgun-shine-danny-boy-part-two.html