Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica) (5 page)

Jeff’s tongue went dry at the thought, and
he struggled to swallow a lump in his throat. There wasn’t a doubt
in his mind that Mason meant what he said. The adrenaline surging
through Jeff’s veins had zero interest in playing Mason’s games,
and was willing to die just in order to spite him. But the fire in
Jeff’s stomach – the young man’s very will to live itself – well,
it knew that it really had no choice.

“I’m going to count to three…” Mason said
gently.

He didn’t even make it to one. Jeff opened
his mouth and tilted his chin forward, his lips finding their way
onto Danny’s cock, then down to its head, parting wide enough for
it to enter. He forced any ingrained thoughts of repulsion from his
mind, and even disengaged his stream of consciousness altogether,
allowing the fire in his stomach to take over. This was no time for
fear, disgust, or self-consciousness. Jeff simply needed to do
whatever it took to survive.

And right now, that meant he needed to suck
cock.

But simply sucking Danny’s cock wasn’t going
to be enough. Jeff had to get him hard, he had to make him cum.
Jeff needed to suck Danny’s cock
well
, a daunting prospect
for someone with zero experience performing oral sex on another
man. It was beyond twisted, but Jeff had no time to dwell on the
horrifying and bizarre nature of his situation. He had one job to
do, and failure meant death.

“Good,” Mason cooed, watching as Jeff
gradually began forcing himself to embrace the act, to massage his
tongue over the flaccid underside of Danny’s shaft, to bob his head
back and forth, growing more and more desperate to get Danny hard
with each passing second…

“Really, X?” he heard Mason sneer. “You’d
let him die just to continue defying me?”

If Danny was giving any kind of response,
Jeff couldn’t tell, as the slave’s cock remained limp in his
mouth.

“You want him, don’t you X? I can tell. Do
you think you’re doing him a favor by getting him killed? Clearly,
he wants to live…”

Jeff felt the first moment of true panic
beginning to set in. If Danny wasn’t hard soon, he’d be dead. And
sure enough, a few moments later, he felt something stiff jammed
against his temple…

A gun.

“Don’t think that I won’t do it right in
front of you, right here, right now. For real this time. No more
games….”

Jeff trembled with a gun to his head,
bobbing back and forth more frantically now, his only way of
communicating anything to Danny…
Please
, he thought to
himself,
just give in… I’m dead if you don’t…

“You want him,” Mason said, “And I’ll give
him to you. But this is your last chance…”

It’s my last chance,
Jeff thought,
the panic becoming overwhelming. His time was quickly running out,
and still, no response from Danny…

Mason cocked the gun. Behind the duct tape,
Jeff’s eyes were wrenched shut as he braced for a bullet to the
brain…

Then, happening so quickly Jeff barely
realized it at first, Danny’s cock grew hard. Jeff cried out in
surprise, urgently hoping to draw Mason’s attention as he slid his
lips up and down over the stiff shaft.

A few seconds later, he felt the gun
lower.

“Go on,” Mason said quietly, “finish.” His
tone was different now, less menacing and more curious. Strangely
enough, he almost sounded… impressed.

But Jeff knew he wasn’t done yet. Encouraged
by the progress he was making, he quickened his pace, bobbing back
and forth with an odd sense of growing confidence. This was no
longer an impossible task, and the mere idea that he might live
through the next few minutes was all the motivation Jeff needed to,
as Mason had put it, finish. And from the motel master’s vantage
point, it almost looked like
enthusiasm
. By the time Danny
was cumming into the back of a moaning Jeff’s throat, Mason had a
satisfied smile on his face. “How interesting,” he muttered
quietly.

Danny pulled back, slowly sliding his wet
cock out of Jeff’s mouth, leaving the two of them gasping for
breath almost in unison – a matching set.

Mason knelt down in front of Jeff, wiping a
small smear of semen off of his lip with the tip of his thumb. “If
I didn’t know any better,” he said, “I’d say that you actually
enjoyed yourself, Officer.”

Jeff’s mouth twisted into a snarling frown,
and he exhaled a shaky, furious breath, knowing just how powerless
he was before this man. “…Fuck you,” he mumbled.

Undeterred, Mason grinned at his captive,
duct tape still sloppily wrapped around the top of his face. “Just
remember, I was good enough to give you the option of death. And
you chose to live. Do you know what the price of that choice
is?”

Jeff, still fuming with rage, was silent,
and Mason simply leaned in close, the man’s lips grazing against
his exposed ear.

“It means that you belong to
me
now,”
he whispered. The words, along with the sensation of Mason’s hot
breath landing on Jeff’s earlobe sent a shiver racing through
Jeff’s upper body.

“Tell me you understand that,” Mason said,
his face still inches away from Jeff’s, his voice dangerously soft.
“Tell me that you belong to me.”

Jeff’s first impulse was to give this man
yet another defiant “fuck you,” but he quickly thought of Danny,
strong and silent throughout everything he had seen them throw at
him. He thought of how incensed it seemed to make Mason, how he
seemed barely able to contain his fiery rage.

So Jeff simply swallowed, locked his lips,
and chose to remain silent.

“Tell me,” Mason repeated, “I want to hear
you say it.”

Jeff, as determined as ever, offered him
nothing but the fait hint of smile. Mason watched him for a few
moments, then smiled back, knowing he was sizing up a surprisingly
worthy opponent. And though he didn’t notice it, Danny, standing
over both of them, was smiling as well.

“Very well,” Mason said, rising to his feet.
He stepped over to the wall, pressing a button on a small intercom
unit. “Gus,” he said calmly, watching his two captives out of the
corner of his eye. “We’ll be needing the theater. Get it ready at
once.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Gus’ voice crackled back in
response, clearly somewhat surprised.

The theater?
Jeff thought, puzzled
and apprehensive. Then, as if the man were reading his mind, or at
least detecting his fear, he heard a nearly gleeful Mason say,
“Your training will begin at once.”

~*~

The “theater” was little more than a storage
closet in the back of the motel’s main building. At least, it
looked like a storage closet to Jeff as Gus and a large, burly,
biker-looking man named Dwayne dragged him across the property
towards the small room. Except for a fresh piece covering his
mouth, the duct tape was gone, painfully ripped off of his face by
Mason, taking part of one of his eyebrows with it. The tape around
his wrists and ankles had been cut free, too – but only to be
quickly and carefully replaced with solid steel shackles. Jeff knew
he had to try and fight back or escape at the first opportunity
they gave him, but they weren’t taking any chances with him. That
was fine with Jeff, though. He had done what needed to be done to
make the man in charge want to keep him alive. Now, all he had to
do was endure whatever they threw at him, just long enough for them
to let their guard down…

“Did you hear that he’s a cop?” Gus asked, a
toothy grin across his face as the three of them neared the room.
Dwayne grumbled in response, clearly less enthusiastic about the
situation.

“Just hope the boss knows what he’s doin’,”
he finally muttered.

Gus pulled the door open and turned on a
buzzy light bulb hanging from overhead. Jeff could finally begin to
understand why they called the room a theater. There was a large
television screen on the far wall, with a large wooden chair
directly in front of it that appeared to be hand-crafted. As the
men shoved Jeff inside, he could see that a majority of the seat
had been removed, and that there were thick leather straps with
buckles dangling from the armrests. The setup reminded him of an
electric chair from an outdated execution chamber.

Gus shoved Jeff down into the chair, and
Dwayne quickly wrapped a thick, beefy arm around his neck from
behind, making it nearly impossible to breathe while Gus uncuffed
his wrists, then swiftly re-secured each one to its armrest,
buckling the straps down as tight as they would go. Once he was
sure that Jeff wasn’t going anywhere, Dwayne released him, leaving
him gasping for air as Gus began securing his ankles to the chair,
as well. A thick belt running from the back of the chair across his
stomach was the final touch, leaving him almost completely
immobilized.

FLICK
. The familiar sound of a
switchblade caught Jeff’s ear, and he whipped his head to the side
to see Dwayne staring down at him, serrated knife in hand, still
sizing him up.

“Don’t fucking squirm,” he said quietly
before bending down over Jeff and grabbing his shirt, carefully
slicing the fabric and tearing it off of his body. The pants were
next, getting unbuttoned and yanked down past his hips, then torn
off his legs with a few surgical rips from the knife. Jeff’s briefs
were last, and came off the easiest with just two quick slices up
the sides through the waistband. In the span of a minute, Jeff had
been violently stripped naked, leaving him restrained to a chair
wearing just his boots.

Whatever was coming next wasn’t going to be
pleasant.

He looked at the television, still curious
about its function in all of this, and found himself thinking back
to high school, when he’d gotten an after-school job unloading
trucks at a local department store. The management had made him
watch a safety video when they’d hired him, and sat him down in a
dark, cramped little room like this. He couldn’t help but wonder if
this was going to be some twisted take on a similar orientation
strategy.

RIPPPP
. With a quick, cruel flick of
his wrist, Gus tore the tape off of Jeff’s mouth, leaving his lips
burning. He cursed loudly at the pain, but Gus simply laughed at
him, then turned and nodded to Dwayne. Before Jeff could realize
what was going on, he felt Dwayne securing something around the
tops of his ears, almost like eyeglasses or headphones. A small,
fuzzy black ball appeared in front of his face – a microphone. They
were making him wear… a headset?

“You’re about to learn how to follow
instructions,” Gus said, standing between Jeff and the television
with his arms crossed. “It can be an easy lesson, or it can be a
hard lesson. That much is up to you.”

Jeff had lost track of what Dwayne was
doing, and failed to notice him kneeling down behind the chair. It
wasn’t until he felt a sudden, firm grip on his balls that he
realized that Dwayne was reaching up under the seat. With the
exposed gap and with his legs tightly secured in place, spread
apart in the seat, there was nothing Jeff could do to resist. This
was it, Jeff knew. No matter what happened, no matter how torturous
things became, his only choice was to endure.

Jeff felt something sticky and rather cool
being attached to each testicle – electrodes, he guessed. Shock
pads. He’d seen them used before, at a mental hospital where he’d
worked a brief security detail coming out of the academy. He
remembered what they were capable of, and the thought of having
them used on his balls was absolutely terrifying. But Jeff just bit
his lip, staring straight ahead and ignoring Gus as he smacked his
chewing gum at him. He was determined not to give them the
satisfaction of seeing him frightened, even though he knew it
probably wasn’t an act he’d be able to keep up for very long.

As it turns out, it would only take another
couple of seconds before he’d betray his fear. He felt Dwayne’s
fingers on his asshole smearing lube over his rim, his fingertips
circling and probing their way inside with a wicked air of
playfulness. Jeff grimaced and grunted softly, his lip starting to
tremble, but it wasn’t until Dwayne brought something hard, cold,
and metallic against his ass that the panic really started to show
on his face. It felt like a dildo, but there were studded bumps,
almost like tiny little… pyramids…

Gus’ smile grew into a grin as he watched
the horror spread across Jeff’s face. He knew what this was – he’d
seen Mason use it on Danny…

“The corncob of doom,” Gus said through a
chuckle. “It’s a nasty one all right.”

Jeff winced, breathing heavily as Dwayne
began forcing the dildo and its dozens of electrified studs up
inside of his ass. The harsh, sudden stretch took his breath away,
leaving him growling in protest, teeth bared. But there was no
stopping it – within seconds, Dwayne had buried the entire toy up
Jeff’s ass, leaving only the thin, black power cord running out of
his reddened, lubricated hole.

Jeff was still wincing and gritting his
teeth, trying to wrap his head around the fact that, for the first
time, he had something up his ass, something that could potentially
cause him excruciating pain. “Please,” he said, breathy desperation
in his voice, “you can’t fucking do this! You can’t… you can’t
torture someone and just get away with it!”

Gus looked to Dwayne before shrugging at
Jeff. “We do it every day, asshole.” He stepped out towards the
door, slapping a hand over Jeff’s shoulder on the way out and
adding, “Get used to it.”

The light went out, and the two men stepped
outside. “You can fight it all you want,” Dwayne said stoically,
“but you ain’t coming out of that room until you’ve been broken
down into what the boss wants you to be.”

And with those words, the door slammed shut,
leaving Jeff alone in the pitch black with only the sound of his
breathing and his racing heart. A few seconds passed, and he began
wrestling with his restraints, if only to confirm just how trapped
he truly was. He finally gave in, defeated, hanging his head down
low. Whatever this was, it was happening, and there wasn’t anything
he could do to stop it.