Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica) (7 page)

And so, throwing his head back and making a
noise that was part moan, part scream, and part growl, Jeff Kenton
did as he was told and started to cum, ribbon after ribbon of the
milky fluid shooting out over his abs, surging out of him in
perfect sync with the pulsating electricity surging into him. He
felt defeated. He felt ashamed. He felt trapped.

He felt…
broken
.

Satisfied, the text on the screen turned
green, lingering instead of fading away, practically rubbing his
face in the hard truth of the situation. They had won. They always
would.

The electricity faded to a stop, leaving
Jeff slumped against his restraints, mind and body equally spent.
He felt dizzy and nauseous, like he might pass out at any moment.
The only thing stopping him from doing so was the occasional sob of
despair that overcame him. A teardrop ran down his face, mirroring
a teardrop of cum that slowly trickled down his cock, pooling at
the base of his shaft. Jeff couldn’t help but watch it as it fell,
fixated, the hardest truth of all starting to dawn on him: this
wasn’t over.

This wasn’t even the beginning yet.

After a minute or so, he felt tension
beneath his legs, something pulling on the dildo, removing it from
his ass. He squirmed in his seat, realizing that someone was
kneeling behind him… how long had they been there? Jeff had no
idea. Nothing felt real anymore.

The dildo came out, Jeff grunting and
gasping as his gaping ass struggled to readjust to its original
dimensions. Jeff heard the faint sound of the metallic dildo being
set aside on the concrete floor, then saw a dark figure step slowly
in front of him, cast in a near total silhouette from the green
glow of TV.

“You did well,” Mason said softly. “Better
than most.”

Jeff’s hotheaded instincts were telling him
to spit in Mason’s face, to laugh and tell the man to go fuck
himself, that Jeff Kenton was nobody’s slave. But they spoke to him
in a voice that was soft, subdued, and distant. Jeff felt detached
from them, like they didn’t belong to him anymore. He remembered
how he had felt as he was cumming… he had felt defeated…

“…Thank you… Sir…” he said quietly, eyes
trained down at the floor. He knew that all he could do now was
accept the fact that his instincts for defiance wouldn’t help him
now. Mason smiled, reaching down to trace his fingertip through the
mess of cum splattered across his prisoner’s stomach.

“Suck,” Mason said, holding his dripping
finger up in front of Jeff’s face. Jeff didn’t even look at it,
instead choosing to stare back up at the barely visible contours of
Mason’s eyes. Without a word, without blinking, he opened his
mouth, extended his tongue, and permitted Mason to probe the digit
inside before closing his lips around the base of the man’s
knuckle. He sucked, forcing the cum down his throat with a series
of steady swallows. Mason retracted his finger from Jeff’s mouth,
then traced the back of his hand slowly down the slave’s cheek.

“I had much more planned for you tonight,”
Mason said, breaking the weighty silence. “More pain. More torment.
You were going to spend the night in this chair if that’s what it
took. But I’m wondering now if all of that is really necessary. You
may already be ready for the next level…”

Jeff thought before he spoke. “Whatever you
wish, sir,” he said, still staring up at Mason with a steely gaze.
Mason smiled again, eyeing his captive over, appraising him with a
strange sense of eagerness.
I’m his new toy
… Jeff realized,
feeling a sudden wave of nausea and immediately forcing himself to
ignore it.

Sure enough, Mason wanted to play.
Wordlessly, he unzipped his pants, lowering them, his long, ample
cock springing free as they fell. He stepped forward, resting his
knees beside Jeff’s legs on the chair, positioning himself directly
in front of Jeff’s face. Only a few inches separated the tip of his
cock from Jeff’s lips. “Open your mouth,” Mason commanded. Jeff
took a breath, then obeyed, his mouth coming open, his mind
resolving itself with one basic directive:
get through
this.

“You want to suck your master, don’t you,
slave?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeff said in a breathy mumble,
leaving his mouth open and his tongue extended, desperate to
convince this man that he was as broken as he clearly hoped. Mason
smirked for a moment, biting his lip as he read the slave.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, before
suddenly releasing a high-pressure torrent of piss directly into
Jeff’s waiting mouth. Jeff gasped and recoiled, jerking his head to
the side, trying in vain to avoid the foul stream. But Mason simply
followed him, aiming the piss at Jeff’s mouth no matter where he
maneuvered. Jeff had nowhere to hide.

“Open your mouth and drink like the slave
you are,” Mason growled, finally grabbing a fistful of Jeff’s hair
and jerking his head back front and center, the piss splashing
directly against his closed mouth and dribbling down over his neck
and torso. “
Drink. It
.”

Even though Jeff’s new submissive instincts
were desperate to obey, it was a command he simply couldn’t bring
himself to follow. Drinking piss? Every atom in his body felt
hard-wired to resist such something so disgusting. And so Mason was
forced to watch with contempt in his stare as his slave stubbornly
refused to open his mouth and drink from his master. His every
suspicion was confirmed. There was still work to do. This slave
still needed to be broken down.

The stream of piss came to a stop, and Mason
pulled back, calmly pulling his pants pack on. He took a sad
breath, sighing like a parent unhappy with their child. “You have
one job,” he said plainly, turning to face the drenched, miserable
slave once more, “and this job is to embrace your fate and, in
doing so, earn my trust. Until you can do this, the punishments
will be severe. They will be nonstop.”

He knelt down, looking Jeff in the eye. “And
they will continue immediately.”

~*~

CLICK
.

His eyes were closed, a futile attempt to
focus his thoughts on something else, anything besides his current
predicament. But with the sound of that single click, there was no
escaping it. Jeff was trapped.

“I remember building these stocks myself,”
Mason muttered, half talking to himself. He stepped back to admire
the sight of his naked captive bent over, his neck and wrists
pinned between the two heavy slabs of wood, his ankles chained to
the device’s base. Mason had led a bound Jeff about fifty meters
into the desert. Now, locked into this archaic apparatus, he could
only just barely make out the distant glow of the motel’s neon
orange sign somewhere beyond the hills that obstructed his view of
the horizon and, perhaps more importantly, obstructed the horizon’s
view of him.

A few feet away, Dwayne began pouring a can
of kerosene over a sizable stack of wood and dry brush. After
emptying it, he struck a match and dropped it, immediately igniting
the bonfire, a devilish red glow flickering to life across his
face.

“The fire will give you at least a few hours
of warmth, and should keep the animals away,” Mason said, his voice
carrying a sinister hint of enjoyment. “But aside from that… you’re
on your own for tonight. Perhaps in the morning, you’ll be a little
more grateful to be a part of our motel.”

Dwayne shook his head and snickered quietly
to himself as he took his place behind Mason. He stared at Jeff, a
faint smile across his face, then winked. Jeff scowled in response,
but said nothing.

“Now drink this,” Mason ordered, waving a
canteen with a straw sticking out of it in front of Jeff’s face.
Jeff eyed it suspiciously, which brought an amused scoff out of
Mason. “Or don’t,” he said, “but it’s the only water I’ll offer you
until the morning. I suspect you’ll be grateful for it within a few
hours.”

Jeff sighed, knowing that Mason was right,
and took the straw into his mouth, quickly gulping the water down.
It didn’t matter what was or wasn’t in it – it could be poison for
all Jeff knew, but still, he had no choice but to take his chances
and drink it. Mason was in control now, and Jeff was going to have
to play by his rules whether he wanted to or not.

He finished the last of it, and realized
just how thirsty he had been. A few stray drops dripped down from
his bottom lip – he quickly lapped them up with a quick dart of his
tongue.

“…Thank you… Sir…” he said, head bowed, eyes
to the ground.

Mason arched an eyebrow. “No words of
defiance?” he asked, clocking the slave’s reluctant reverence. “No
‘fuck you?’ I was beginning to find your fighting spirit almost
charming.” Jeff said nothing, remembering how Danny’s silence had
so clearly gotten under this man’s skin. Mason had already gotten a
“thank you” out of him – that was all Jeff was prepared to offer,
for now.

After a few moments’ worth of evaluation,
Mason nodded to himself, then knelt down to Jeff’s level, peering
straight into his eyes from only a few feet away. “I
will
break you, Jeff,” he said softly. The sound of Jeff’s name formed
from Mason’s lips gave the miserable captive a noticeable shiver,
which only seemed to fuel the fire in Mason’s eyes. “It’s
inevitable,” he went on. “One way or another, you will become
exactly what I want you to be. You will submit in every way
imaginable. You will not have a choice.”

Jeff glared at him, silently begging to
differ. Mason smiled in response, reading the young man’s face
perfectly.

“You’ll learn not to fight it,” he said.
“And after that, there will be no limit to what you will
learn.”

And with that, Mason stood and walked off,
followed closely by Dwayne, the two of them leaving Jeff alone
beneath the moonlight to squirm fruitlessly against the sturdy wood
amidst a chorus of crickets. He had lost any kind of perception of
time. It felt like ages since he had arrived at this damned motel,
and like sunrise should be just around the corner, but for all he
knew, it wasn’t even midnight yet. The only truth he could hold
onto was that he was stuck, forced to wait out the remainder of the
night, however long that might be. And as uncomfortable as the
stocks were, straining his body into an awkward and even painful
position, he knew that rest wasn’t going to come easy, no matter
how utterly exhausted he felt.

Then, of course, there was the cold to deal
with. There was already a distinct desert chill in the air, and
Jeff knew he’d be in serious trouble once the fire died down.
Hikers were getting stranded all of the time out in the canyon
country, and plenty of them had come down with hypothermia on
nights like this one – and they certainly hadn’t been naked, with a
face full of lukewarm piss to boot.

Still, Jeff refused to allow himself to
panic. The fire, burning about six or seven feet to his side, was
indeed casting a faint tickle of heat across his body, enough to
keep him from shivering, at least for the time being. If he could
just stay calm, he would be all right… wouldn’t he?

He could only do his best to shake off the
pesky, nagging thought of how miserable this night was going to be,
as well as the subconscious fear in the back of his mind that he
wouldn’t even survive it. Fear wasn’t an emotion he could afford
right now. He knew he needed to focus on something else… anything
else. He began thinking of his friends and family. Would any of
them even notice that he was missing? Certainly not his father, who
was still serving the back half of a twenty year sentence for
vehicular manslaughter, nor his mother, whom he hadn’t even spoken
to in almost two years. As for his friends, well, Jeff was simply
too much of a loner for his own good, and didn’t know many people
whom he thought of as good friends. The friends he did have, he
realized, were almost all fellow officers, either with the
sheriff’s office or with other local agencies. And all of them
would either be fed the same bullshit from Fox about Jeff receiving
an abrupt transfer, or even worse, were already just as corrupt as
Fox was and implicated themselves in the Motel X cover-up. Rather
than letting himself cry at the depressing thought, Jeff let loose
a bitter chuckle, wondering with a sobering level of seriousness
whether or not he’d ever see any of them here at the motel, not as
law enforcement officials sworn to serve and protect, but as…
clients
.

Jeff’s sad chuckle quickly grew into a
hacking cough as a wave of nausea flooded through his system,
amplified by the bitter taste of semen and piss still lingering in
the back of his throat. He spat on the ground, desperate to rid the
taste from his mouth, wondering if he was going to vomit. As much
as he actually
wanted
to vomit the foul taste from his body,
he knew he needed to resist the urge – the risk of dehydration was
simply too high. Mason wouldn’t have given him that water if he
didn’t believe it was an absolute necessity to keep him alive
through the night. He found himself chuckling again, part of him
wondering if he was already starting to lose it. He should have
just drunk that piss, he thought to himself. As disgusting as it
was, if he’d downed it convincingly enough, maybe Mason really
wouldn’t have left him out here to stew for the night.