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In the Wrong Place - Part 1
Scott Hendricks was driving down the Interstate on his way to his best friend and college roommate's wedding. He had left work at noon today, Thursday, to arrive in time to pick up his tuxedo this afternoon and the Bachelor party tonight. Tomorrow night was the rehearsal dinner, Saturday the wedding, and on Sunday a brunch reunion of college friends. He was particularly excited because he had recently broken up with his girlfriend of 2 years and was hoping to hook up with one or more of the bridesmaids. His college friends never liked his girlfriend, so it worked out perfectly that he was single again.
Scott was 24 and living the life. He graduated from the University and immediately went to work for a big investment firm making big money. He was 6'2, worked out, played basketball regularly, and had the handsome good looks of an underwear model. His complexion was smooth and clear, his dark hair was so thick and long that he had to go to a salon weekly to keep it neatly trimmed around his ears and collar. He was not ready to settle down, so he was not upset that he had parted with his girlfriend. Since he had left directly from the office, he was still wearing one of his neatly tailored business suits and driving his prized BMW 850 turbo coupe.
His cell phone rang, and it was Ben, the groom calling. He was frantic and needed Scott to run an errand. He begged Scott to stop and get him some weed. His regular supplier was out and referred him to someone out in the small town of Markham on the way to the city. He promised it would only take 5 minutes tops since it was near the Interstate. He texted Scott the details and told him that he would look forward to seeing him in an hour and a half.
Scott followed the GPS directions and soon arrived at the Pine Tree Inn, a biker bar and beer joint. He noticed that it was not very crowded. There were a couple of pickup trucks out front and several Harleys on the side. As he walked inside, his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness of the bar, but he could still feel that all eyes were on him. He asked the two burly guys shooting pool if they knew where Big Al could be found, and they pointed to the back room.
Scott headed through the back door and noticed a confrontation between two bikers. The tall, skinny one caught his eye as the one in charge. He was dressed in mirrored sunglasses, jeans, leather jacket with a skull and crossbones on the back and big black harness boots with a thick lug sole. He had long dark shoulder length hair that was contained by a bandana shaped into a do-rag. A dangling arrow shaped earring hung from his left ear. He was sporting a two-week-old beard and he had a wallet in his back pocket secured by a chain. Scott noticed that he was sporting a skull ring on his right hand with some leather bracelets and a large silver dragon belt buckle proudly displayed out front. He was giving the smaller one hell about something that he fucked up. They both turned and looked at Scott who was completely out of place in the seedy bar. The taller one yelled at Scott and asked him what he wanted. Scott replied that he was looking for Big Al. The biker asked him why he was looking for Big Al. Scott stammered that it was personal business on behalf of his friend Ben. The biker laughed and said that Big Al was gone, left in the middle of the night, and wasn't coming back. He knew what Scott was looking for. Scott apologized for the intrusion and quickly turned to head back out the door of the room, but it was blocked by the two guys from out front that had been playing pool.
The biker said, "Not so quick, we need to talk." The two burly men grabbed Scott by the arms and escorted him to the back wall where he was shoved and turned to face the biker. One of the burly men patted Scott down, first his chest and back, then each leg down to his ankles and finally grabbed him in the crotch. The big smile on his face was missing a couple of teeth. He was looking for wires or weapons, while the biker in charge reached in Scott's suit jacket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out his driver's license and said, "Hello, Mr Scott Hendricks, my name is Raffo, and you're in my territory now. Raffo knew that since Scott was looking for drugs, he probably had some cash on him, and he was correct. He pulled the five hundred dollars out of Scott's wallet and quickly pocketed it. He tossed the fine leather wallet on the floor. Scott was nervous and knew that he was going to have to quickly come up with an exit strategy. Before he could think, Raffo was pulling on his wrist and quickly and easily slid Scott's watch down and off. He examined the watch and then put it in the pocket of his leather jacket.
Raffo took a long hard look at Scott. He was checking out his attractive features. He noticed Scotts athletic body, chiseled chin, and dark brown eyes. He couldn't help but notice his smooth complexion, straight white teeth, and sexy masculine appeal. The wheels were turning in Raffo's head. He noticed that Scott would make the perfect male whore. That's what Raffo did, he ran drugs, and women. He stole anything he could get his hands on. His band of bikers had recently taken over the Pine Tree Inn and run Big Al out of town. This was their territory now and they would be supplying the drugs and the pussy. Raffo had never pimped out a male whore before, but he was open to new and creative ways to make money.
Scott was getting pissed now. He was running late and didn't have time for this shit. He screamed at Raffo, that he didn't have time to play games with him, just give him his stuff and let him go. When Raffo laughed at him, he lost it, and tried to give Raffo a swift kick in the balls. Big mistake. Raffo was too fast and quickly jumped out of the way. But he was able to grab Scotts leg and lift it in the air, leaving Scott to stand on one leg, pressed against the wall. Raffo smiled at him as he quickly unlaced Scott's shoe, pulled it off and threw it on the floor. He was also able to quickly remove Scott's over the calf sock. He put his big hand around Scott's toes and twisted as hard as he could which caused Scott to scream out in pain. Raffo told him that if he tried to kick him again, he would break his ankle. Scott was still in pain as Raffo reached down and gabbed Scott's other leg. He pulled it up in the air, just as before and was able to remove the shoe with little effort. He tossed it to the side. He then pulled off Scott's remaining sock and threw his leg down. Scott could not believe that he was standing in this dirty bar in his bare feet and it finally dawned on him "Shit, I'm being robbed."
Raffo said, "So you want to fight me?" Scott said, "No, no. This is all a big misunderstanding." Raffo removed his leather jacket and handed it to one of the other bikers. He removed his plaid shirt and handed it over revealing a skull and crossbones tattoo on one arm and a thick leather band on the other. His biceps were thick and solid from years of lifting weights. He looked even more intimidating with his shirt off. Scott was terrified as Raffo glared at him. He turned Scott around and slid the suit jacket off his back and tossed it on the floor. He easily lifted the tie over Scott's head and tossed it aside. Scott was now shaking as Raffo removed both of his cuff links and pocketed them. He slowly unbuttoned Scott's starched white shirt, pulled it off his back, and tossed it on the floor. He said to Scott, "Don't be afraid my little fairy. I thought you were all man!" Scott was all man, but there is not way that he could compete and survive, let alone win against this stronger Alpha male.
Raffo said, "Here are the rules. There are none. You win, you get your stuff back and you're on the road . . . . I win, and your ass is mine." Scotts eyes teared up. He had never been this afraid before in his entire life. He was visibly shaking and did not want to fight Raffo. He knew that he couldn't win and pleaded for his life. Once again, the intimidating Raffo smirked at Scott and called him a weak little fag.
Scott couldn't understand why this stranger assumed he was a homosexual. Raffo didn't look gay, he talked and acted straight, so why would he (incorrectly) assume that Scott was gay? By now, Scott couldn't even see as his eyes were filled with tears, he was being treated like a faggot and it wasn't fair. He felt Raffo pulling on his belt as he quickly unhooked it and unzipped his pants which allowed them to fall to the floor. Raffo stood on Scotts pants with his booted feet and gave Scott a big shove. Scott stumbled as he was forced to step out of the pants and leave them behind. Scott put his hands up to defend himself, but this only made it easier for Raffo to lift his crew neck tee shirt over his head and off.
Raffo tossed it over his shoulder. Scott could not believe how quickly he had gotten himself into this predicament and was unable to defend himself as he felt Raffo easily slide his boxers down his legs and pulled them off. Raffo tossed the boxers aside. Scott was butt naked and Raffo was making him very uncomfortable as he examined his body from top to bottom. He put his big hands behind Scott's neck and removed the silver chain and cross that Scott had been wearing since high school. Raffo put it in his jeans pocket. It was like taking candy from a kid. Raffo continued to examine and admire Scott. He ran his hands across Scott's firm thighs, lean long legs and bubble butt. This sent chills up Scott's spine. He stretched out Scott's cold and shriveled dick, which he thoroughly examined and asked him if he was sure that he was a man; he looked more like a little boy. He told him that his 12-year-old cousin had a bigger dick. Raffo was just intimidating Scott. He could tell that when fully stroked Scott was sporting 8 inches. He was even more jealous now. Good looks and a big cock was just not fair. Raffo just knew and assumed correctly that Scott was a big pussy hound. That he could fuck any woman he wanted. This angered Raffo and made him very resentful. Scott was getting more worried by the minute. He subtly scoured the room to establish an escape route. There was no way to get away from this maniac and his band of thugs. Raffo was in Scott's face, he looked him directly in the eyes, he could smell Scott's expensive cologne, he could see the fear in Scott. This is how Raffo intimidated men. He grabbed Scott's cock and yanked it as hard as he could causing Scott to yell out in pain. Raffo laughed and said, "You are no fighter my friend. You are just a weak little boy who was born to serve a real man. You are a fucking faggot." Scott vehemently denied that he was gay and proudly stated that he was all man. He never had a problem being around gays before, he even had gotten a couple of offers to have his dick sucked, but he never had been with a man before because there was no need. He always had a woman nearby that could satisfy his every need. His low and crackling voice spoke otherwise. It gave him away as weak and vulnerable. Raffo had him right where he wanted him - by the balls. He grabbed Scott's balls again, this time squeezing them as hard as he could, causing Scott to wince in pain. Raffo was enjoying every minute. Raffo accused Scott of being an undercover cop. Scott denied it. Raffo said, "Then you're a rat." Scott shook his head no. Raffo demanded to know who sent him, and Scott replied again that his friend Ben had sent him. Raffo told him that he didn't believe him, but in reality, he knew that Scott just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could tell by the way he was dressed (or used to be dressed). He could spot a cop a mile away, and this was no cop. He certainly wasn't from a rival gang and Raffo knew that he had stumbled into a place where he didn't belong. Raffo squeezed both sides of Scott's head and forced his mouth open. He worked up a tremendous ball of phlegm and spit and volleyed it directly into Scotts mouth. Scott was stunned. A swift jab to the chest had him gasping for air and forced him to swallow the snot. Raffo swatted at Scott's shriveled dick several more times, with several hard and painful swats. Scott was proud of his 8-inch cock, but right now it was tiny and shrunken, trying to avoid the painful hits from Raffo.
Raffo asked him point blank if he ever had a dick in his mouth. Scott yelled back, "Hell no." Raffo asked him what about his ass and Scott screamed back, "Absolutely not." Raffo thought to himself that would change, real soon. He was going to convince Scott, through the power of physical persuasion, that he was gay. If anybody knew how to train and break a man, it would be Raffo.
Raffo was feeling feisty and ready to play. He slid his thick leather belt from his jeans and folded it in half. He used it to whip Scott's nipples and chest until they were red and sore. He used the belt on his legs and thighs. Scott pleaded with him to stop. Raffo was just getting started. It was easy to whip & beat Scott, because he was just too damn pretty. Scott called him an asshole and told him to stop. This only pushed Raffo further. He grabbed a chair and pulled the naked Scott across his lap. At first, he spanked Scott's bare ass with his hand. He told Scott that he was going to teach him some manners. >From now on he was to address Raffo as Sir, since he was a superior man. Scott told him to get fucked and Raffo went to work harder, using his belt in place of his hand. It didn't take long for the welts to appear on Scott's back and soon his entire body was covered in bruises, sores, and markings. Scott was in extreme pain and could barely breathe. He pleaded with Raffo to stop. It was very humiliating, as a grown man, to be held across Raffo's lap and get his ass whipped. Scott threatened Raffo that if he did not stop, he was going to have to get the police involved. Raffo yelled at him to shut the fuck up and take it like the wimp that he was. He knew that faggots liked to get spanked. Scott once again denied that he was gay and Raffo told him not to worry, he soon would be.
Scott was outright crying from the pain and humiliation of Raffo's torture. Raffo pulled his head up by his hair and threw him to the floor. Scott screamed from the pain. Every muscle in his body was bruised and he was in so much pain that he was defenseless. Raffo told Scott that he was today's entertainment. He needed to get up off the floor and dance for him. Scott knew that he was defeated and did not want another beating, so he slowly rose to his feet. He noticed the hatred in Raffo's eyes. One of the bikers played a song on the juke box. Scott was shaking as he started to move his naked body about and swivel his hips and move his arms about. There were 5 other bikers in the room, with all eyes on Scott, yelling chants like, "Swing that dick around" or "Show us that tight little ass." This went on for a humiliating five minutes, with cat calls and whistles of encouragement. Several of the bikers shook up their beers and popped them, spewing beer all over him. Scott was quite a sight. His body was covered in scars, his ass was a brilliant red, and his eyes were puffy from all the tears. He had a split lip which had started to bleed, and it hurt every time he moved his chest. Raffo had made sure that Scott's perfectly combed hair was now ruffled and messy. His knees and legs were filthy from being on the dirty bar floor. At this point Scott could not look directly at any of the men. He was so humiliated that he kept his eyes pointed to the floor.
Raffo ordered Scott back to the floor and told him that it was time to teach him some respect. Raffo stretched out his legs and ordered Scott to clean his boots. Scott was confused and in a daze. Raffo screamed "With your tongue, you stupid fucker." Scott was too far out of it to be appalled. He reluctantly extended his tongue and went to work wetting and cleaning the boots with his mouth and tongue. He started on the sides and worked his way around the first boot. Raffo raised his jeans leg and he continued up the tops. His stomach was churning as he thought about what he was doing. He repeated the process on the other foot. Raffo raised his leg, snapped his finger, and Scott understood that he was also to clean the bottom thick lug soles. He worked his tongue between every crack and soon his lips, tongue and mouth were as dirty as the bottoms of the boots used to be. Raffo said something to one of the other bikers who left and soon returned with the cell phone from Scotts pants pocket. He lifted his booted foot, put it against the side of Scott's face, and gave it a slight shove. "What's the code, bitch?" Without hesitation, the defeated Scott whispered the code which allowed Raffo to start taking pictures of Scott in his defeated position. As Scott continued to work on the bottom of the second boot, Raffo made sure to get plenty of pictures of him completely naked and cleaning his boots. He made sure to get pictures of Scott's face and dangling cock in the same frame. Scott's bright red ass glowed brilliantly in the pictures. Raffo took pictures from every angle of his naked body, and of his mouth, slurping and sucking on the nasty boots. It was a very queer situation that Scott had gotten himself into. He asked Scott if he should send the first pictures to his girlfriends, his best friend Ben, or his Mom. Scott nervously shook his head no and worked harder on cleaning the boots being able to get a slight shine on them. He was exhausted and gagging from all the dirt that he had ingested, and his throat was scratchy and dry. He couldn't stop coughing. Raffo told him that maybe his boss would like to see the kind of naked perverted faggot that he has working for him. Scott was panicked. Raffo told him that if he could follow orders and behave himself that there would be no need to send any pictures. But the first time he fucks up, his whole world will know that he is a whimpering little homo. Raffo told Scott that he would keep his dirty little secret between them, but it was going to cost him $2,000. Scott was shocked and told Raffo that he didn't have that kind of money. Raffo knew that he was lying and just laughed at him. He repeated, "Everyone in the phone will be interested in seeing those pictures." He handed Scott his phone and told him to make the transfer. He gave Scott his info and in a few quick keystrokes it was done and Raffo was $2,000 richer. Damn this was easy.
Scott couldn't believe that he willingly made the transfer. He justified to himself that he had no choice. His throat was still dry, and he was coughing and choking with tears. Raffo told him that he would get him something to drink. He put him arm around Scott and told him that everything was going to be ok. He was going to look out for Scott and protect him from the evil and wicked thugs that were out there. Scott was confused. He didn't need protection, or did he? His mind was spinning.
Raffo had him right where he wanted him. He looked down at his newly cleaned boots and thought, "This is going to work out just fine."