Chapter 10
"These are beautiful, Bobby. I can place some of these right away, and some of them are worth a coffee-table book by themselves." Bobby Shale and Tom Carlisle sat in a back booth at the HardTop. Carlisle closed the cover of Bobby's portfolio.
"You really think they're that good, Mr. Carlisle? I haven't been able to get anybody else to look at them. Not seriously."
"Who have you tried?"
"Well, mostly people here at the University. The Fine Arts faculty guys."
"I'm thinking maybe you ran up against a little professional jealousy, then. I'm going to send the first two or three off to a friend of mine in New York first thing in the morning."
"God, Mr. Carlisle, that's fantastic. I don't know how to thank you."
"No need. We're both going to profit from any efforts I make. Standard agency contract. Unless you object?"
"Oh, hell no! Anything you say is fine. I trust you, Mr. Carlisle."
"Good. Bobby, as an agent I have to be a salesman. I'm going to try out my best salesmanship right now." Carlisle's face, just visible in the dimly lit bar tightened with the intensity of his words. "And I'm going to call on your trust. Hear me out. I am being completely honest with you. Your photographic work is superb. I am going to find markets for it. You'll begin to make money from your art, maybe even make a living, in time." Shale gazed at the other man, rapt. Carlisle paused, looked down at the table, then around at the dark, noisy bar.
"Why do you think I asked you to meet me here, Bobby?"
"Uh. Well, I figured maybe you saw me here before or something. Maybe you thought I'd be more comfortable here. I guess you already figured out it's a gay bar..."
"To be more precise, it's a leather bar, Bobby. And yes, I saw you here before. I saw you, I inquired about you and I traced you. Your photographic art is a very pleasant surprise from which, as I said, we will both profit. But my main objective is, and always has been you." Tom stopped. He gazed calmly into Bobby's eyes, waiting.
After a moment the younger man broke eye contact, gazing around the bar as he collected his thoughts. His eyes snapped back to the other's face. "You mean, you wanted me?" His voice cracked
"This is your kind of place, Bobby. It's mine, too. When I saw you, you were with another man. A fine looking man, but the wrong man for you. I watched the two of you go into the private playroom in back. I waited. An hour later you returned. You passed near enough to my booth for me to see the angry welts on your arms. You had apparently had sexual gratification. But equally obviously you were not happy."
"God...," Shale said softly.
"Bobby , this is my impression of you. If I'm wrong, tell me. We'll finish our beer and go our separate ways. You are a young man who needs discipline. Light bondage might be quite pleasant for you. But you do not appreciate pain. You aren't a masochist, but the man you were with clearly is a sadist. I believe that what you want and need is an older, more experienced mentor. A man who will lead you, shape you. With firmness, but with a clear sense of, and desire for, your pleasure as well as his own. Am I on the right track so far? Interrupt whenever you wish, by the way. You don't have to wait for permission to speak. You are not and should not ever be a slave. Nor am I interested in being your master. What do say?"
Bobby swallowed and took a deep breath. "Mr. Carlisle, when I came to your office this afternoon, I didn't know why you called me in. I didn't know what to expect. When you told me you'd seen some of my work and wanted to see my portfolio, I was happy to hear it. But to tell you the truth, you could have called me in for something else entirely and it wouldn't have mattered, because as soon as I saw you standing there in the doorway to your office and heard your voice greeting me, I got hit real hard. I prayed, I honestly prayed to God, that someday I'd be given the opportunity to do whatever it would take to win the privilege of licking the sweat off your body." Shale paused to catch his breath, his face blazing. "Yes, sir. What you described is a hundred percent accurate. A mentor is exactly what I've wanted since I was about twelve years old. And never found. Please, sir. Please! Yes!"
"That was very well said, Bobby." Carlisle slid out of the booth and stood. Bobby looked up at him questioningly. "Come over here and slide in." Shale did as he was directed, and Carlisle slid in beside him. He twisted his torso to face the boy. "Open the first three buttons of my shirt," he directed. Hands shaking, Bobby complied. The first button revealed jet black hair, so thick it was almost a pelt. The next two buttons opened the shirt nearly to the man's navel, and showed the fur-covered contour of a heavily muscled chest. "Feel." Carlisle seized Bobby's hand and laid it on the left side of his chest. Bobby plowed his fingers through the gleaming hair, stopping a moment for his delicate fingertips to play over the barely exposed nipple. His breathing was shallow, hot.
"Will this be satisfactory?" Tom asked, smiling down at the enraptured youth.
Bobby looked up into Tom's eyes, dazed, nodding. Carlisle put a hand around Bobby's head and pulled the boy's face down to rest on his bare chest. Eyes closed, Bobby's mouth kissed and sucked at the hairy, thick-muscled torso.
"I hoped that I was right about you, so I called this afternoon to reserve the playroom. Unfortunately it was already spoken for. We can go to my place instead if that's all right with you?"
Bobby nodded again, savoring the rasp if the coarse hair on his cheek. Suddenly he stiffened, sat up from his semi-reclining position against Carlisle's body.
"What is it?"
"Jason just came in. My , uh, my ex."
Tom's eyes followed Bobby's gaze toward the front door. Jason Twill had entered. His hand circled the back of another young man's neck, and he seemed to be propelling him forward. The two walked toward the bar.
Shale gasped. "Oh, God! No!"
Carlisle tightened his arm around the younger man. "He can't hurt you anymore, Bobby. You're with me, now."
"It's not that. Oh God. Mr. Carlisle, I've done something really bad. I... I think I've hurt somebody."
"Tell me, boy." Carlisle radiated calm concern.
"This afternoon when I was leaving your office, there was a man waiting to see you. A football player?"
Carlisle nodded. "Dak Rollins. Why?"
"Well, that kid with Jason is Rollins' lover!"
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. I like Dak. He'll be very hurt."
"No! You don't get it. Somehow Jason knew when Rollins and the kid would be getting it on, and he got me to take pictures of them going at it. That kid loved what he was doing, and I'd swear he loved who he was doing it with! Look at him, Mr. Carlisle. He doesn't look happy, does he? I think Jason's forcing him to go along."
They watched the two men at the bar. The bartender had drawn a pitcher of beer and was working on another one. As they watched, Twill shoved the first pitcher into the unwilling hands of the other man.
"You know what that beer is for, don't you?" Bobby asked.
"Yes. And I think I recognize that young man, too. I believe that's Tadescu, the gymnast. No wonder Dak's smitten. He is beautiful."
"Mr. Carlisle, if I'm right, I'm responsible! I have to do something." Shale was in obvious torment.
Tom thought a moment, then hastily buttoned his shirt. As Twill and his glum companion started down the back hall, Tom rose. "Phone. Come."
Twill locked the door behind him and pocketed the key. "You want a beer, baby? I can spare a glass," he said, leering at Ion. "No? Suit yourself. And unsuit yourself, too while you're at it. Come on, come on, let's have a nice long look at the merchandise."
Ion stood, head bowed.
Twills' voice turned ugly. "Snap it up, asshole. I wanna see your dick and I wanna see it now. Or those pretty pictures go in the mail to the Dill Foundation tonight! Get it, studboy. I own your ass until I'm satisfied. Strip!"
Quickly Ion kicked off his loafers and peeled out of his jacket and sweat pants to stand naked. Twill looked on appreciatively as he filled a stein from one of the pitchers. "Oh, yeah. You're fine meat. Feet apart. Hands behind your head. Good. Real good." Shale walked up to Ion, stroked his chest with his free hand. "I'm gonna kiss you now, Ion. You just stand there, just like you're doing. Oh, and if you feel my tongue on your lips, that's sort of a little signal that means open your fuckin' mouth."
Ion steeled himself against reacting, crying out or struggling. He must do this thing, whatever it took. He filled his mind with Dak's face, his wonderful penis and strong body. I, too, will be strong, he thought. Then, oh God! he felt his lips covered by Twill's. The other man's hand moved down now, caressing his belly and diving down to cup his cock and balls. Twill's tongue, as promised, poked demandingly at his lips. Ion opened his mouth. Oh. DakDakDak...
"Hello."
"Dak? Tom Carlisle. There's a problem. It involves your friend Ion. I need you to come now. I'm sending a cab to bring you. A young man named Bobby Shale will accompany the cab, and he'll explain the situation to you during the ride. Clear?"
"Yessir. I'll be waiting outside my place." Dak gave his address and rang off.
Ion's back and thighs stung and burned with the welts from the thin lash. His hands were tied to a bar high over his head. His arms ached from the strain. Sometimes he stood on his toes to relieve the ache, but in moments his arches and calves hurt even worse and he had to drop back down to stand flat footed. His tormentor was now dressed in a harness of leather straps with metal fastenings that revealed more than it covered, and gave his manhood free rein. He'd donned his leathers after thoroughly probing Ion's mouth with his demanding tongue. Then he interspersed lashing with beer swilling. The whip wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't really too bad compared to the pain of hanging by his hands. He heard the pitcher thump down on the table. Twill walked to an electrical panel on the wall and turned a dial. The bar overhead lowered, blessedly, until Ion's elbows were only a little higher than his ears.
"That feel better?" Twill asked. He circled behind Ion. "I don't want to cause you pain, baby." The beery whisper came in his ear. Both of Twill's hands stroked Ion's biceps and triceps, soothing. "Sometimes that rack hurts, kinda, doesn't it?" Ion felt the other man's hot mouth on his shoulder, felt the tongue licking around the back of his neck, up into his hairline, and down again, tracing a slow path around his scapula, nearly into the depths of his armpit. "I'm going to give you something really nice, now, buff-boy. Oh, first..." Twill went back to the table and returned with a strip of tape. Ion's eyes widened in fear as Twill deftly slapped the tape over his mouth. "Naw. Don't worry, this'll make it easier for you to let out your feelings. Don't wanna have any suppressed feelings. 'S unhealthy. Know wha' I mean?" Back behind Ion, now. "Said I was gonna give you somethin' nice. Y' ready?"
Ion felt his nether cheeks being spread. Hot, wet - his tongue! He felt Twill licking his asshole! The man's eager tongue fluttered over the pink rosette, probing, swiping. His lips slurped and sucked. Against his will, Ion felt his sphincter beginning to relax. Twill's mouth sensed the capitulation, and, with a strong push, he forced his tongue up into Ion's pulsing rectum. In and out he worked the warm, wet inches of mouth meat, then withdrew. "Sweet, baby." Twill's arms snaked around the captive gymnast. He crooned into his ear. "Really sweet. Jus' what I been dreamin' about, rimmin' your hard, sweet ass." His hands worked feverishly up and down around Ion's muscled chest and belly, his thighs, his now slightly distended prick. "Whoa. Gotta slow down a little bit."
Ion felt cool air on his naked backside as Twill pulled away. 'Kay, here's the present I promised you." Again the boy felt his ass cheeks being spread. Again something approached his anus. This time it was cool, slick. And the cool thing was firm, even hard, and it was entering -- Oh God, something was being pushed into his anus! Ion cried out in pain and fear, but his cry was muffled, turned back inward to burn in his throat. Still the probe continued inward. Unable to stop himself, Ion screamed again.
"Shut up, cunt!" Twill snarled. The sudden mood swing was nearly as frightening to Ion as the invasion of his body. "This is only a skinny little six incher. I'm just reaming out the channel a little bit. You're gonna get a lot more than this before we get done, you fuckin' little cocksucker. An' you're gonna love it! So shut the fuck up!"
Twill's arms reached around Ion. He snapped something in place and stepped back. The device was now secured around his hips, keeping the plug firmly lodged in his agonized rectum. "Okay. Next step." Again the man lowered the overhead bar, gesturing for Ion to step backward as he did so. The bar rolled down until Ion's arms were straight out in front of him. Twill attached a pair of handcuffs, then untied Ion's hands from the bar and yanked the tape from his mouth. "Over here." Twill motioned Ion to follow him to a low couch, covered by a rubber sheet. "Down on the bed. Oh, and if you don't want a hell of a pain in the ass, you better sit side-saddle. Better yet, lie down on your side." Taped and bound, Ion had no choice but to obey. Gingerly he edged himself onto the couch, trying not to impale himself any further on the burning probe in his butt.
Twill crouched on the floor in front of Ion. He reached for Ion's cock and brought it to his mouth. His tongue flicked out and licked the head, then he stuffed the head into his mouth. Ion felt the tongue swirling around his cockhead, then suddenly the teeth took a light nip at his foreskin. He jumped. Twill pulled back and laughed. "Gotcha. Damn, you taste nice. Almost wish I didn't put that plug up your butt, 'cause I'd really like to eat some more of that sweet ass of yours. Oh well. Later. Right now it's time for something a little different." He shifted so that his genitals loomed over Ion's face. "Suck me, baby!"
Ion had known this was coming, that it was inevitable. He opened his mouth and felt Twill insert the first few inches of his still-limp prick. "Swallow it, asshole. Or else!" Ion forced his throat to comply, and as he made the swallowing motion, Twill pushed his cock with his fingers down into the waiting maw until his pubic hair rimmed Ion's mouth. "Yeah! Fucker! I'm all the way inside your cunt mouth, cocksucker!" Twill pulled out, then, finally leaving only a few inches of cock meat resting in the furrow of Ion's tongue.
"Now just hold still. Rest a little, okay?" Ion cast his eyes upward over the flesh bridge that connected him to the hard, leather-bound body before him. What was the beast going to do now? His mouth still filled with cock, he craned his eyes further up. Twill's eyes were closed, his breathing calm. A hot splash filled his mouth. He jerked back, gagged and swallowed. Ion watched in horror as a golden stream of piss shot out of the head of Twill's prick, splashing his face and running down over his chest. Twill laughed uproariously as he aimed his spraying weapon all up and down Ion's body.
"How's that, baby? Was that your first good, honest drink of piss? Yeah, sure it was, vanilla boy! Want some more?" Ion slammed his eyes and mouth shut as the hot, yellow stream flashed back up his chest and all over his face and head. "No, baby. Open up, and keep it open." Defeated, Ion opened his mouth wide and tilted his head up to catch the spraying stream. Dak! Oh, God, Dak!
Suddenly there was a roar. The piss stream jerked up into the sky and away from Ion, and he saw Twill's body fly through the air and fetch up against the far wall. Dak himself loomed over Ion. The huge man scanned his lover's welted, soiled body, and turned back to Twill with another roar. "You son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you!" he yelled as he lunged at the cowering leather-clad man. Through the pounding roar of the blood rushing through his own head, Ion was dimly aware of two other figures jumping in front of Twill to restrain Dak. He heard low voices, but couldn't hear the words. But he saw Dak settle back, heard his voice too, cooler now. Then Dak was returning. He had the key to the cuffs. Gently he took them from Ion's wrists. Ion covered his face with his hands.
"Please. Don't look at me."
"Honey, it's all over."
"I am shamed. I have profaned what we have had together. Please go."
Dak seized Ion's hands, brought them away from his face.
"What are you talking about? You haven't done anything shameful."
"Only look at me. I have submitted to another man. Have even swallowed his urine." Ion gagged, retched, barely managing to stop himself from vomiting. "How can you look at me? Touch me? I am filth."
"Oh, no, Ion. He's filth, not you. I know why you did what you did. I know you. You did it to protect me. My reputation. And my deal with the foundation. Oh, God! Ion, don't hate yourself, hate me! I could have spared you all of this! I canceled my foundation gig this morning. I told them I couldn't do it because I'm gay, and I want to live openly with the man I love. If only I'd called you right then, you would have known there wasn't anything to hide. Shit! Shit!" Dak broke into racking sobs.
"Stop! Oh, stop, please. I was in class all day. You could not have called me. You are faultless, unlike me. I am fouled, and I wish only to go home. Will you help me to stand?" Wordlessly Dak lifted Ion to his feet. The motion pulled cruelly on the harness, and Ion's hands flew to the strap to unbuckle it.
"What the hell is that?" Dak looked on in disbelief as Ion slowly removed the plug from his burning rectum. "Oh. My. God! Oh, Ion! Jesus Christ, what did he do to you?" Dak went to his knees behind Ion. Gently he spread the butt cheeks and stared at the painfully reddened area. "Did he fuck you? Did he?!?"
"No, Dak. You came in time to prevent that, and I am grateful. Please, do you see my clothes?"
"Ion, please..."
One of the other men, a young man with flaming red hair, approached carrying Ion's shirt and pants.
"Please, Mr. Tadescu. Can I talk to you just for a second? My name's Bobby Shale, and I'm the fucking asshole who took those damn pictures. Get mad at me. Hit me if you want to. I deserve it. But don't blame yourself. And for God's sake don't shut Mr. Rollins out. What you guys have is good and clean. Don't fuck up like I did." Bobby's earnest intensity made Ion pause. "Why did you do it, Mr. Shale?" He asked.
"Because he wouldn't let me take his cock in my mouth unless I did. I hurt you to get my lover's dick. The shame's mine, not yours. I did what I did from sex hunger. You sacrificed for your lover. You're only soiled on the outside. And there's a shower in that room over there, by the way."
"Did you know what Jason planned to do with the photographs?"
"No! Oh, God, no! But I should have figured. It's my fault." Bobby's eyes were rimmed with tears. His face blazed with shame. Ion hesitantly touched his arm.. "If I cannot take the filth of this man into myself, then you cannot take his blame. He has sinned against us both." Ion thought a moment, then went on. "And I can understand why you acted as you did. I think I would do even worse things to have Dak in me. I can feel your need. I bear you no ill will." Ion leaned forward and kissed Shale on the cheek. "Thank you. Your advice is good. Dak," he said, turning, "will you help me to the shower? I have some pain, still."
The big man's eyes were wet too. He bent and smoothly picked Ion up in his arms. Together they went into the shower room and closed the door.
Tom Carlisle had used the handcuffs on Twill, and hitched him to the overhead bar. He came to Bobby. "You did well. You're a lot cleaner now, yourself." His heavily muscled arms went around the redhead. Their lips met, then their tongues. They were still entwined in a deep embrace when the others came out of the shower room several minutes later. Hesitantly approaching them, Dak cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, Tom. What do we do about that piece of shit over there?"
Tom smiled as he turned to Dak and Ion. One arm still firmly around Bobby's waist, he extended the other hand to Ion. "Mr. Tadescu, I'm Tom Carlisle. I'm honored to meet a world-class athlete. And an outstanding person. You are most impressive. I hope we'll become friends."
He gestured to Twill, hanging by his hands as Ion had been earlier. The leather had disappeared from his body, and he looked vulnerable and scared.
"Mr. Twill has caused a good deal of trouble for you. I'd like you to leave him in my hands. Mine and Bobby's. My sense of Mr. Twill is that there were things missing from his youth. The lack of these things has warped his sense of fitness, his values. I believe Bobby and I can help him. You're welcome to stay and watch, of course. No? Maybe another time." His smile was genuine, and still somehow menacing. Dak and Ion excused themselves and hurried out.