Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica) (12 page)

Jeff remembered that first night, hiding in
the cabinet and watching Fox with Danny. He’d been disgusted and
outraged at the sight of such depraved, evil acts from a man who he
had respected and trusted as an authority. Now, a month into his
tenure as a sex slave, he showed no emotion and no resistance when
placed on the receiving end of Fox’s sick lust. That fire was gone,
long since extinguished. These men were his masters, no matter how
much he might have hated them, and to treat them as anything less
meant the harshest of punishments.

“Mmm,” Fox purred, bucking harder and
harder, “
fuck
yeah. Mason’s gonna get top dollar for you,
just you watch.”

Even with a mouth full of cock, Jeff had to
contain his instinct to scoff at the remark, realizing just how out
of the loop Fox really was. At this point, Jeff didn’t believe that
Mason would ever sell him. After all, he’d made no secret of the
fact that he had no plans to sell Danny, and it was Jeff’s presence
that, in Mason’s eyes, had reinvigorated Danny back into the slave
he was supposed to be, back into X. Without Jeff, Mason’s favorite
pet was, in his eyes, broken. No, if Mason had his way, as he
always did, Jeff would be staying at the motel for a very, very
long time.

It actually made for an interesting point of
insight on Jeff’s part. Fox was simply in charge of hiding Mason’s
tracks, nothing more. He wasn’t privy to Mason’s intentions and
desires. He didn’t make the decisions at the motel, not when he had
wanted to get rid of Trixie, not ever. He was a cog in the machine,
not its operator. Whether or not this meant he was a weak point
capable of being exploited remained to be seen, but it was
certainly something for Jeff to file away.

With his dick satisfyingly erect, Fox pulled
out from Jeff’s mouth. He chuckled again, giving the slave a
condescending pat on the cheek, then slowly began turning him,
twirling him in a slow one-eighty until he was staring down with
lecherous eyes at Jeff’s vulnerable, exposed ass, its muscles tense
and flexed with his legs bent and bound.

“Nice and tight,” Fox mumbled, reaching out
and grabbing two rough handfuls of ass, spreading Jeff’s cheeks
wide, then slowly letting the toned flesh slip back through his
fingers. “Gonna make for a perfect celebration fuck, don’t you
think?”

Celebration? Jeff lifted his head slightly,
a confused expression suddenly dawning across his face. Behind him,
he heard Fox snicker.

“Nobody told you yet, did they?” he asked.
“Might as well be me, then. You’re about to get yourself a
promotion, officer.”

He landed a sharp, stinging slap of his hand
over Jeff’s ass, punctuating his proclamation. The pain barely
registered with Jeff – he was much less focused on Fox’s actions at
this point than he was on the man’s words.

Fox chuckled again, stepping forward and
bringing the tip of his dick up against Jeff’s ass. “Yeah,” he
said, nonchalantly starting to slide his cock up inside of the
restrained slave. “There’s gonna be a vacancy today. Deal’s already
all set up. The buyer will be here in about an hour to pick up his
new slave. Then, I’m sure Mason will have you branded like a proper
slut so you can take their place.”

Jeff grimaced, not just from the sensation
of Fox burying his cock up his ass, but from the thought of finally
having a number of his own seared into his flesh. It was bound to
happen sooner or later, he told himself. He couldn’t say he hadn’t
seen it coming.

But what he
didn’t
see coming was
what Fox blurted out next:

“Guess we’ll have to start getting you used
to your new name,
X
…”

X…

It didn’t register with Jeff for a moment.
But when it did, he forgot all about the ass fucking he was in the
middle of enduring. He was going to be the new X. That’s why Mason
hadn’t branded him yet. He wasn’t here to service Danny Major.

He was here to
replace
him.

~*~

Jeff was furious at himself for not seeing
it coming. It all made perfect sense: Danny was a “broken” slave,
but Mason didn’t want to sell him, not without a worthy
replacement. And what better way to create a worthy replacement
than to trick Danny himself into unknowingly training Jeff for the
position? Mason was probably well aware that the two of them were
conspiring to try and escape together at some point – he knew it
wouldn’t make a difference after Danny was gone. The last of Jeff’s
fighting spirit would be shattered, leaving only a brand new,
freshly trained “X.” Jeff wondered if Mason had used a similar
technique with Danny and Eric. Maybe he’d even been doing it for
years, using his old slave to help break in the new one. One final
act of submission before being sold off to the highest bidder, and
they wouldn’t even realize it.

He had endured the rest of his session with
Sheriff Fox in stunned silence, realizing just how fucked he really
was. On his own, with Danny gone, he’d likely have zero chance of
ever launching an escape attempt with any reasonable chance of
success. Worse yet, he was losing the only person in this world he
could honestly say that he cared about. However reluctant Jeff had
been to define his feelings for Danny, they were feelings that he
felt certain Danny reciprocated. Their connection was real, and it
meant something. It wasn’t just friendship, and it wasn’t just sex
– it was keeping them both sane.

Now, Jeff couldn’t help but feel an
overwhelming sense of dread, a feeling that he was doomed to become
a mindless shell of a man, as broken and empty and devoid of hope
as the other nine slaves at the motel, as bad as Danny had been
when Jeff had first found him. As an oblivious Fox continued
fucking him, each battering thrust of his cock seemed to reinforce
Jeff’s newfound despair, hammering it deep inside of him against
his will. Then, after Fox had finally had his fill of sex, his cum
slowly dripping out of Jeff’s ass drop by drop, he’d moved over to
the very same cabinet where Jeff had hid on his first night at the
motel, retrieving a long, thin bamboo cane. “Might as well get
those asscheeks warmed up for the branding,” he said, bringing the
cane down across Jeff’s backside again and again. In the time he’d
spent living as a slave, Jeff had learned how to take a beating,
but now, for the first time in weeks, each stinging blow left him
whimpering, the cane landing with the weight of all of the
unspeakable beatings and abuse Jeff knew his future now held. Like
the cum seeping out of Jeff’s weary asshole, the last semblances of
hope itself seemed to be pouring out of him, beaten out drip by
drip with Fox’s fiery cane.

Finally, Gus had interrupted the savage
beating, poking his head in and telling Fox that the buyer was on
his way, and that Mason needed him out front. Clicking his tongue
as he pulled his pants back up, the out-of-uniform cop shot Jeff
one last parting wink before retrieving his gun and holster from a
hook in the wall and strapping in. “Look alive, bucko,” he told Gus
on his way out the door. “We’re all about to make a lot of
money.”

Before long, Gus had dragged a borderline
despondent Jeff back to his room, chaining his collar to a hook in
the wall just above the bed before shutting the door and leaving
him. For the first two weeks, Jeff had been kept in near total
restraints at almost all times, usually with cuffs and thick ropes
tying him down to the bed. But then, as a reward for obedience,
he’d “earned” a few feet worth of freedom, just long enough to move
a couple of steps away from the bed in any direction, although it
really wouldn’t have even mattered if he were left totally free to
move about – the room was painstakingly stripped of anything that
could be broken down into a weapon, or used to aid in an escape.
The window was barred and the door was heavily reinforced. There
was no chance of escape, no chance of resistance. All Jeff could do
was pace back and forth between the bed and the wall, his hands
remaining cuffed behind his back, and a twelve-inch chain
connecting his ankles.

After a few minutes of anxious pacing, with
occasional glances shot towards the camera in the far corner of the
room, Jeff finally brought himself to move to the window. Part of
him didn’t even want to watch Danny being led away – the very
thought of it was enormously painful, and Jeff didn’t want it to be
any more crushing than it had to be. All the same, he knew he
couldn’t just ignore what was happening, no matter how devastated
he might have felt.

For a while, there was nothing to see – just
the empty gravel lot behind the motel. Finally, after almost an
hour of anticipation, he saw Mason in a crisp, blue Oxford shirt,
along with Sheriff Fox. The two of them stood in the center of the
lot, their attention focused on the driveway leading out to the
highway. The entire motel was on lockdown, and there was a palpable
electricity in the air. This wasn’t the first time outsiders had
been brought to the motel since Jeff had been there, and while it
was always tense, with the entire staff keenly aware of the
heightened risk of security breaches, no client had ever felt quite
like this. It was, after all, potentially a million-dollar sale
going through. No wonder Fox had shown up today, Jeff realized.
Mason wanted the extra security.

Mason whispered something to Fox, who nodded
and then lifted a walkie-talkie to his lips. He must have been
speaking with Gus, Jeff knew – Dwayne and Trixie had likely gone to
meet the buyer in a neutral location, as they always did, only
bringing them back when it had been deemed safe, just one of many
precautions that Mason took. After all, the slaves he trained were
an incredibly valuable commodity, likely worth millions to fellow
human traffickers. Transactions were, by definition, high stakes
affairs.

Through the glass, Jeff heard the first
faint crunch of rock beneath a vehicle’s tire – someone was pulling
into the motel. Fox spoke into the walkie talkie again, squinting
his eyes ahead. The crunching gravel grew louder, and louder… then,
Jeff saw it: Dwayne’s truck, a large formidable ride with deeply
tinted windows. It rolled to a stop about thirty meters in front of
Mason and Fox, like some sort of bizarre face off. The driver’s
door opened. Fox readied his hand near the pistol hanging at his
hip, but there was no need – it was Dwayne, who looked to Mason and
gave a slight, reassuring nod. Trixie exited from shotgun, moving
around to join Dwayne as he opened the back door to the cab.

Out stepped a slightly diminutive, yet
clearly muscular Mexican with a bald head and a thick black
moustache. He carried a silver briefcase and wore a white suit with
a stark red tie, flowing down from his neck like a ribbon of blood.
There was a faint smile on Mason’s face as he offered the man a
friendly, respectful nod. The Mexican smirked, nodding back.

This was the buyer, Jeff knew. This was the
man who was going to own Danny. The thought made his stomach
turn.

The Mexican looked around, inspecting the
motel, appraising it. Then, nodding to himself, he turned back to
the vehicle, barking something into the cab.

A second figure stepped out – a shirtless
Caucasian male, wearing a jet black leather hood over his head. He
stood subserviently at the Mexican’s side, his head bowed, his
wrists secured in front of him with thick leather cuffs. The
Mexican casually produced a leash from his jacket pocket, clipping
it to the slave’s collar.

The smile was gone from Mason’s face. His
eyes narrowed. Fox looked to him nervously, whispering
something.

Something wasn’t right, Jeff realized.

“You were told to come here alone,” Mason
called out.

“And I thought you said no guns,” the
Mexican replied, gesturing to Fox. “What’s to stop you from taking
my money and leaving me to rot in the desert?”

“You know my reputation,” Mason yelled back,
scowling. “It isn’t wise to open a transaction by insulting
me.”

The Mexican bit his lip, then gave a nod. “I
mean no disrespect,” he finally called out. “As for my slave, I
always travel with him at my side. Besides – he is the one I will
be pairing with yours.” He smiled, holding his briefcase up, the
sun glinting off of it. “There is no conflict here,” he called out.
“I’ve produced your payment. Now please produce what I have
purchased.”

Fox looked to Mason for approval. After a
brief hesitation, Mason gave a slow nod, causing Fox to speak into
the radio. Within seconds, the door opened to Mason’s private
apartment, located on the second floor of the small building that
housed the dungeon. Gus stepped out, pushing Danny in front of him
with the steel leash. Jeff cringed as he watched the two of them
make their way down the steps, Danny hobbling along with an ankle
chain of his own, as well as handcuffs locking his wrists behind
his back. As horrible as Jeff felt, he could only imagine how Danny
felt, although the dead stare in his eyes might have given some
indication.