Catfish Visits a Castle 4
By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com
The storm and the damage it caused were good for me. All the ridged rules that separated the Castle staff from the outdoor staff vanished. The basement was flooded, the roof damaged and the lights were off. Downed trees cut off the road and access.
I knew how to run a generator and had no problem mucking around in the basement or putting a tarp over a hole in the roof. Trevor and Ferdinand were worth shit in an emergency, so Otis and Dugan, the cook, took charge. Otis I expected; Dugan was surprise. As a chef, Dugan was accustomed to running things and he was decisive and sensible. I had thought he was too swishy, but he told me you couldn't be a chef if you can't deal with emergencies.
I was in a good position for another reason. I knew the boys were limited intellectually, but they weren't the only ones. Most of the outdoor staff and security people were borderline, either due to mental limitations of serious lifestyle problems. Drugs and booze have side effects and these effects were evident.
Trevor was cheap, and he was a bottom feeder when it came to the staff. They were willing to accept low wages for anything that could be called a job. Just watching a generator and refilling the gas tank was too much for most of them. Butch misunderstood the instruction of "let it cool down before you put gasoline in the tank." It caused a fire and not an explosion, but that wasn't good.
Dugan had a good assistant chef, Bruno, and a good Pastry Chef, Elise, who were helpful. The rest were worker bees. Otis and I were the only ones willing to get dirty. I think Dugan and his staff would have been willing in a pinch, but it wasn't in their nature.
Otis took charge of clearing the roads and the worst of the downed trees. I ran the generators that in turn ran the pumps draining the basement. Trevor wanted the generators for the outlets in the house, but Otis told him that if the electrical service in the basement corroded, the entire electrical system would be shot.
The weather cooperated sort of. While it was hot, it was dry. We opened the windows of the castle to air the place and get some of the humidity out. The house had a central sky lighted stair hall. I opened the roof vents and air flowed through the house. The musty smell began to dissipate.
I had two generators going running pumps. I could hear chainsaws as they began to clear the road. We got about two hours of power on a full tank so I went to the roof to see what could be done about the leaks. Dugan sent Bruno to help me. He was a beefy Italian man who had some common sense.
Bruno had not been out of the kitchen and dining room area so he was interested in the rest of the castle. I discovered most of the leaks were due to clogged downspouts and gutters, rather than roof damage. Bruno got some tongs and spits for roasting whole pigs from the kitchen. We solved a few big problems with that.
I had to refill the gas tanks so I left Bruno on the roof as I took care of business at the generators. Casey and Trevor were waiting for me. They were pissed as hell. They wanted me to watch the generators. I told them I had to check on the pumps and relocate them and asked if they could help. I knew the answer, but they left rather than help. That too, I had guessed. They only needed to face the possibility of work to be scared off. Casey was drunk as a skunk, and I think Trevor had used Casey's approach to stress management too. He seemed a bit unsteady.
I turned off the generators to let them cool off before refueling. I then rearranged the pumps in the basement. When I got back to the generators, I met Billy-Bob. Trevor sent him to "straighten me out." Billy-Bob was a redneck's redneck, ignorant, stupid and damn proud of it. He was a bruiser, big and muscular. From the look of his face, he lost more fights than he won.
He wanted me to refuel the generators now. I told them they needed to cool some more. He went over and twisted the cap and burned his hand. Billy-Bob went off to lick his wounds. I noticed something strange in the basement and went back. The floors were all sloped slightly to the middle of the room.
The floors were covered in modern, inexpensive vinyl. In the middle of the room, I guessed there would be a drain, covered by the vinyl. I called Dugan to take a look. He had a knife. He cut away the vinyl and opened the drain. A half hour later we had the basement draining through the floor drains.
I then went to hook up the generator to a switch in the electrical room that powered a few of the fixtures in the house. The generators were comparatively small, but they powered some lights and outlets for a radio and television set. That made life inside the Castle better.
This turned me into the hero of the day. Dugan moved a few steps higher on my list of good people when he told Sheila I was the one who discovered the drains. Sheila actually thanked me for fixing the drains. She was pleased. Trixie appeared and Sheila told her I had fixed the electricity. She smiled, but I don't think she noticed the problems with the electricity.
The ovens and stoves used propane, so cooking was possible. As the freezers and refrigerators were defrosting, there would be a lot of food to eat. I returned to the roof to work on the drains. I found Bruno, shirtless sunning himself behind a chimney.
I remembered one of the great porn stars of my younger years was named Bruno. My Bruno's face didn't look like him at all. His body was a dead ringer. He was buffed and fur covered, with a six pack abs and massive chest.
"Damn, you've been lifting more than pastries," I said. Bruno smiled.
"There's not much to do here," he said. "They have an old fashioned gym."
"It looks like the old equipment still works,' I said.
"All my equipment works too." Bruno said. "Bruno told me you were an open-minded man."
"I take it you are open-minded too?"
"I go with the flow," he replied. "I love being milked and having a guy suck up my ball scum. I like feeding people."
"I have a warm spot for cock caviar," I said. Bruno dropped his pants and I helped him out. He was ripe and ready. He was just the right size for deep throating. One size bigger and I wouldn't have been able to take it. I swallowed him and tweaked his nips. Bruno soon began to spurt.
I like man seed, but it's not on the top of my list of exciting things. I get much more excited by wedging my cock in a tight ass, or sixty-nining. When Bruno began to shoot, I got into it. I'm not sure if it was his resemblance to the porn star, of if it was me being in a good mood. Cocks can't talk, but they can communicate. I could taste Bruno's excitement.
He shot a good load and I didn't swallow right away. I saved it in my mouth, enveloping his cock in his own warm and slippery man seed. I licked his knob, and damn if he didn't start shooting again. As far as I could tell this was a full-scale orgasm, not just a utility ejaculation used to clear out the sperm left over from the main event. I tend to like men like Bruno anyway, but sucking him as he ejaculated a quart or two of his special sauce did nothing to reduce my attraction to him.
"Damn, that was good," Bruno moaned. I pulled off still sucking in the remains of his last orgasm. I worked my tongue into his foreskin and gave his knob a few more licks. He ejaculated again forcefully. He was good to the last drop.
"I'll take care of you, if you want?" he asked. Bruno wasn't sincere about that. He was drained and the urge was gone. I appreciated the offer. He was polite enough to ask.
"If you don't mind, I'll take a rain check," I said. "I like to really get it on another time when we have some time."
Bruno smiled at me. "That sounds good to me. I'm game." He was sincere about that. We returned to the roof leaks. We got most of the roof drains working again and tarps over the damaged areas of the roof.
By four, we were off the roof and Bruno was in the kitchen cooking dinner. I refueled the generators and went back to my room. The freezers were thawing so Dugan was cooking food before it went bad. That meant dinner was going to be good. Otis came by and said Dugan would send food to the security people, the grounds crew, the boys, and the castle staff.
Someone was worried the staffs would intermix, so they were kept separate. Otis and I were to eat with the grounds staff. That was fine for me, but I did wonder what use the separation served. I had a little while to use my cell phone and told my office about the meth lab and the drug stash. I had assumed the Castle staff was in charge of the meth lab, but it could have been run the security people. The security men I had met all looked as if drugs had played a role in their lives.
There would have been some value in separating the drug staff from the rest of the people at the Castle to keep world of the drug operation leaking out. If Trevor and Ferdinand used the castle staff as a personal harem, you wouldn't want them to mix with the peasants. Buster told me many of the men were gay, but that wouldn't preclude a trip to the other side. Straight men often dabbled in gay sex; it operates the other way too.
The grounds staff was the last to get food, as we were the low men on the totem pole. I knew the boys and Otis. The there were three additional gardeners and two general repair people. They were a sad looking group. They didn't have the Boys' major problems, but they were limited to menial jobs. I talked with a gardener named Tommy. He was getting less than minimum wage due to fees deducted from his pay for housing.
Dugan did not skimp at all. There was lobster and shrimp as well as steaks and a pork roast. Most of the men had never eaten so well. It was a good night. Trevor came by to look us over, but I realized he simply wasn't a leader of men. It had been a hard day of work, but he couldn't actually thank anyone or say "job well done."
By 9:30 everyone was full and sleepy. It had been a long day after a sleepless night. I went to my room and called my office. I had to report in and give and update. I was afraid my cell phone batteries were running low. It turned out my anal-retentive business manager who tended to drive me crazy had slipped in extra batteries and a small hand charger in my overnight bag.
Dennis, my overnight man, was good, knew whom to call about the drug stuff, and would get someone to check out the involuntary servitude aspect of the Castle. I gave him the names of as many of the men I could remember. I wondered how many had criminal records.
I stripped and went to bed, but before I could get to sleep, there was a gentle rapping at my door. It was Bruno. He said he wanted to suck me off, but I suspected he wanted to be drained again. We had a low-intensity but high-pleasure session. He had shot off earlier on the roof, so it took some time to coax his sperm from his balls.
Bruno wasn't really a sucker; he liked to use his tongue to explore my cock, balls and asshole. His own organ oozed and dribbled the entire time. I liked that. Bruno really liked my hole. I asked if he would like to poke me and make a deposit. It took him no more than two or three seconds to get his knob in my ass.
He only knob fucked me; he didn't go deep. I found out he wanted his sperm in no more than a tongue's depth in my ass. Bruno shot off and then licked up his cream from my ass. He was driven and wanted to make sure he got each little drop of sperm from my hole.
I sucked Bruno again and he was still, fully loaded. At first I thought he was like those instantaneous water heaters that produce hot water in demand. He seemed to have an instantaneous semen maker. He later told me he had been in a long dry spell, and I was getting old sperm, stored up in his balls. While I'm not a cum hound, I liked Bruno and it was good for me.
He left and I fell asleep.
He next day was spent cleaning up. There was no major damage, but in a place as big as the Castle minor damage mounted up. The radio said it would be another day or two before the roads across the mountain were cleared and weeks before the main highway was open again. We were still isolated.
Late in the day two Forest Rangers visited. They had off track vehicles that didn't need roads. I recognized one of them. Hal Cawthorn was a State trooper who specialized in illegal drugs. My call to the office had results.
His partner, Rory Smith occupied Trevor and Ferdinand while Hal went off looking at damage. He saw me and I went off to the pump house. He followed me once he got out of sight of the Castle. I gave him a quick rundown. The pills were in a flooded area but they were in metal shelves so they weren't damaged.
The lab was out of operation. It would need to be dried out and cleaned before it would be usable. As far as I could tell, no one had made any efforts in that direction. I didn't know if the Castle domestic staff or the security staff was involved in the lab. I was quite sure the gardeners and grounds staff wasn't. I also told him about the involuntary servitude aspect of the place. Some of the staff wasn't being paid. He was interested in that.
Hal hoped we could get both the supplier of the drugs and the distribution network. When the roads reopened, they would watch the traffic to the Castle and see how the drugs got to the estate and then out to the users. Hal was direct and fast. He returned to his partner quickly before Trevor noticed he was gone.
I was just cleaning up bush and fallen tree limbs so I had some good thinking time. Trixie DeMont had fallen into the grips of a bad crowd. I assumed the drug dealing came from Trevor who had a background as a nurse.
Trevor had sexual problems too. For a man who liked to dominate women, his drug interests could be helpful too. I had noticed the Castle residents, other than the kitchen staff, were quiet and the place was silent. Now that all the windows were open, you still never heard conversation not to mention laughter. Perhaps they were just reserved, but they could be sedated. Trixie certainly was.
It seemed to me that Trixie was a big fish to catch, a fish with hundred million in the bank. Why would anyone who was after her money, still do drugs? From what I saw in the basement, this was not a small operation. It certainly wasn't purely for domestic consumption. Old habits die hard, but I certainly wouldn't put Trixie's millions in jeopardy for a Hillbilly Heroin operation.
Another possibility occurred to me. Could there be an as yet unknown Mr. Big. Were Trevor and Ferdinand simply soldiers for a major crime boss? Nothing I had observed about Trevor or Ferdinand suggested leadership abilities of any sort. They fit the pattern of small-time con men out for a buck. Neither man was particularly bright or clever. They seemed ineffectual to me.
The entire operation was a joke. Any real criminal organization would never allow me to work there without references and a complete background check. On paper, the place was heavily guarded, but security is based on the quality of the individual guards and quality of leadership. A Girl Scout camp with a 67-year-old retired gentleman as a guard was more effective than Casey's collection of drugged out clowns.
Perhaps the Castle was not the center of a drug empire, but a minor colony? There is some advantage for a large crime organization to be decentralized and to minimize the interaction from the top to the peons below. There is much less chance of the peons squealing on the higher ups. Perhaps this was a franchise operation. Trevor could have been a psychiatric nurse goon bad with a basement lab in a ranch house. He had now moved up in the world, but he still was intellectually a small time crook.
On paper, everything at the Castle looked good. If you made a quick visit, the secluded location, the guards and locked vaults in the basement all would have been impressive. A reclusive widow provided a good cover story for the conditions at the Castle.
Finding Hal Cawthorn, the trooper, here was a clue. I had called the office the day before. He was in disguise and at the Castle the next day. He must have been on the case already, waiting for a break. The State Police respond to emergencies quickly, but this wasn't an emergency and with the disruption caused by the storm, their plate was full. Someone knew this was important.
The next day brought more visitors to the Castle. Highway department officials came by asking that a part of the castle grounds be used as a staging area for a crew clearing and rebuilding the badly damaged interstate. Most of the property was wooded, but there was a meadow like area at the entrance.
Ferdinand rejected that request out of hand. One of the officials told him they were just being polite. The cleared area originally had been a CCC camp during the construction of the Blue Ridge Parkway. It actually belonged to the Park Service. They would use it regardless and were just trying to minimize the disruption to life at the castle. Ferdinand huffed and puffed but the official had the documentation and the property plats to prove his contention.
Rockslides blocked the highway on western slope of the mountain. The eastern slope was open. Equipment and trailers arrived that afternoon. The equipment was huge. This was earth and rock moving equipment, not just your basic bulldozers. I just happened to notice one of the men who staffed the office was a trooper and another was a DEA agent from Richmond.
They retained the Castle entrance but the trailer had complete visual overview. Generator powered security lights were everywhere. It was a major highway and clearing operations would go on 24/7. I did not know where the cameras were, but I knew there was a snapshot of the license of every car entering the Castle grounds.
The construction crew put up a temporary communication antenna. The mountain was between cell towers and cell service was erratic. I assumed it also tapped the castles cell phones. The construction manager, Olin Miller, asked if he could use the Castle's wells for water. Trevor said no. Olin told us it would be a week before electricity was restored to the Castle, but he could get us diesel fuel for our main generator. Olin was a mountain boy with the accent to prove it. I don't think Trevor considered the hick had an ulterior motive. He decided to take the fuel.
Trevor agreed to allow a tank truck to fill up twice a day in exchange for the fuel. I was not completely surprised when the driver of the water truck was the DEA agent.
Our generator was a first cousin to the Heavens Curse. It was both moody and erratic, so I had to baby sit it and go to the Castle to reset the fuses after every power interruption. The Castle had fuses and not circuit breakers. It was that out of date.
Trevor and Casey wanted to make sure the Water truck driver did nothing except fill the truck. The assigned me the task of watching him. This gave me the chance of talking things over with Phil, the DEA agent twice a day without suspicion. It was all I could ask for.
Phil looked the part of a rough construction worker. DEA agents can be up tight, but Phil could have tricked me if I hadn't known him in Richmond. He knew me by sight, but we had never met. Here he was the truck driver and the night watchman. Officially, he was off in the morning, but he was working double shifts to cover the cost of a bad divorce. Phil wanted it to be known he tended to doze off in the early morning.
I let that information slip to Casey in a conversation. Casey seemed to perk up at that news. I found out Phil was happily married in real life, but he knew about my sexual inclinations. Phil let me know that just in case I wanted to bed him. Generally, men come to me, so Phil didn't need to worry.
Men who worry about gay men making passes at them are usually not quite as straight as they think they are. Phil was one of those. Phil wasn't a jerk, or an asshole. He was just conventional. The DEA and FBI tended to attract men who are firm believers in convention, and not particularly self-aware. Not being self-aware defined Phil. Oddly he was a bright and intelligent man. He simply skipped the rule that self-awareness is the basis of all knowledge. Luckily, Phil wasn't like the Republicans who reject all evidence that doesn't confirm their preconceptions. Facts were facts to Phil.
We talked a lot and my suspicions on the case were new to him, but interesting. He had assumed this was a standalone operation, but my guesses made sense to him. We got along well. While he was refilling his water tanks, Bruno came to deliver lunch. I was chained to the nearby generators, and couldn't eat with the grounds staff.
It was a hot day, with no clothes washing possible, Bruno was shirtless. Phil took one glance at Bruno and was in love. Phil discovered his gay side. I don't usually play cupid, but I felt the urge to help Phil.
Phil wasn't attractive in the centerfold way. He was good enough looking, but he exuded masculinity. You knew he was all man. You could almost smell it. I saw Bruno glance at Phil when Phil wasn't looking. Bruno knew that being ultra male didn't preclude having a taste for men. I was Bruno's last delivery so he hung around. Soon the two men were talking.