Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica) (8 page)

He wanted to believe that his desire to
exploit the trust of his captors and escape this place was the only
reason he found himself considering and in some cases even
embracing a sense of submission towards them. He thought back to
the theater, and the way he had obeyed their demands, suffered
through their torments, and come out of it ejaculating all over
himself, only to suck the milky cum right off of Mason’s fingers
without even thinking twice. It was all just in the name of
self-preservation, right? Simply a desperate captive doing whatever
needed to be done in order to survive and see another day?

He wanted to say yes, but as much as he
loathed admitting it, he knew that there was more to it than that.
He could feel the machinations of his captors working within him,
calling to his submissive side, pulling the last remnants of hope
from his mind and replacing them with the instincts of a slave. He
didn’t have long, he realized. If he didn’t escape this place soon,
they’d finish breaking him down. Jeff would be gone, replaced with
just another nameless, forgotten slave. He thought of Danny,
enduring that sort of nonstop physical and psychological torment
for months on end… The fact that he still possessed even a shred of
the individual he used to be was outright astonishing to Jeff. If
it were him in Danny’s shoes, Jeff couldn’t even begin to imagine
what sort of condition he’d be in by this point. It was a
horrifyingly sobering thought. Being trapped here as long as Danny
had been, maybe longer, or suffering perhaps an even worse fate… it
wasn’t just a possibility for Jeff at this point, it was a
probability. And most frightening of all – Jeff’s newfound
instincts for submission kept quietly telling him that the only
avenue for relief of any kind was to embrace that fact, to cement
it from a probability into an inevitability. Into reality. How long
could Jeff hold thoughts like that at bay?

Jeff’s somber train of thought was cut short
by the sound of approaching footsteps crunching their way through
the dry sandy brush amidst the crackling of the bonfire. He snapped
his head up to attention, craning his neck to see who was coming.
There was an approaching light – a lantern. The footsteps grew
louder and louder, the light nearing the bend in the rocky hillside
concealing Jeff from the motel. Soon, a shadowy figure came into
view. Jeff could see the orange light from the lantern glowing up
across their face…

It was Danny.

Jeff stared at him as he approached,
stunned. He had wondered if someone like Dwayne or Gus or Trixie
might sneak out and take advantage of the highly vulnerable,
totally naked slave locked and restrained out in the desert. But
Danny? How was he even out on his own? Jeff felt his heart
beginning to race. Maybe he had somehow eluded his tormentors.
Maybe he could free Jeff from his bonds. Maybe the two of them
could finally make their escape…

Danny moved in front of Jeff and stared down
at him, leaving him face to face with his naked midsection. Jeff
couldn’t help but take in the lean, muscular tone of his abdomen
and thighs, and in between… Clinging onto some semblance of
sheepishness, Jeff tried to avoid looking at Danny’s cock, but it
quickly proved to be a futile effort. After all, it hadn’t been
that long since Jeff had been desperately sucking on it with a gun
to his head. As cocks went, it was healthy, ample, and
pristine-looking. Jeff didn’t want to think about it in terms like
that, but he simply couldn’t help it. Something about it was just
oddly…
captivating
to him. The very sight of it in Jeff’s
periphery made his pulse begin to throb and his mouth go dry.

Danny slowly lowered himself to his knees,
bringing the two of them eye to eye, much as Mason had before. His
face betrayed an odd sense of curiosity, almost as if he were
looking at something he couldn’t quite recognize, but something
that seemed familiar nonetheless. Jeff swallowed, unnerved by the
slave’s blank stare.

“How did you get free?” he finally asked,
desperation in his voice as he added, “Please – help me…”

Danny didn’t respond – he didn’t even blink.
Instead, he simply raised his hand, clamping it over Jeff’s mouth
and ignoring his muffled cry of protest. Something in his stare
hardened.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice cold
like steel. But Jeff kept his eyes open, locking them with Danny’s,
frightened of the restrained intensity in the slave’s eyes. He had
come here to save this man, and yet now, Jeff realized that Danny
Major might be the one person at this damned motel who scared him
the most. He sucked a nervous breath in through his nose, noting to
himself that with his mouth already firmly blocked, all Danny had
to do now was pinch his nostrils shut and he’d suffocate within
minutes. Maybe that was why Danny was out here. Maybe he simply
wanted to put Jeff out of his misery. Of course Jeff had no
intention of dying, something Mason had already made perfectly
clear, both to Jeff and to Danny. But still, from Danny’s
perspective, maybe he’d be doing Jeff a favor…

“Close your eyes,” Danny repeated, his stare
growing insistent. Jeff returned the stare, fighting off a fresh
shiver that was beginning to come over him as he continued
following every stubborn instinct that told him not to trust this
broken shell of a man. But then, almost to Jeff’s amazement… he
did. He obeyed. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

“Listen to my voice,” Danny said. “I need
you to… understand.”

He lowered his hand from Jeff’s mouth. The
shackled hostage kept his eyes shut, and his lip trembled as he
whispered, “Understand… what?”

Jeff could sense Danny’s face inching closer
towards his, like the gentle heat of an electric charge passing
between them. Danny’s forehead landed against Jeff’s, and Jeff
gasped softly, his entire body trembling now. He could sense what
was coming, and for reasons he couldn’t possibly understand, it was
the only thing he really wanted. Not escape, not freedom, not
relief.

Danny’s lips landed against Jeff’s, his
tongue unfolding into the officer’s waiting mouth. His eyes still
shut, Jeff suddenly saw a flash of white light. Something had
changed. Danny was gone. He opened his eyes.

He was back in the cellar dungeon, the side
of his face resting against the cool black leather of the padded
table. Startled and confused, he tried to raise his head, but
couldn’t, as a steel collar around his neck was tightly chained to
the table’s far edge. He was bent over, naked, his arms still bound
securely behind his back, his ankles chained to the floor. He began
to struggle, but it was no use. All he could do was slowly work his
head to the opposite side.

There was Danny, chained in place a few feet
beside him, looking back at Jeff with something new in his eyes,
something Jeff hadn’t seen before: fear. Behind him was Mason,
naked and fully erect, a sadistic grin on his face as his hands
kneaded Danny’s ass cheeks and spread them apart. There was someone
behind Jeff, as well, he realized, a look of panic sweeping over
his face as well. His eyes fell back to Danny’s. The slave offered
him a knowing, mournful nod. Jeff
had
seen this
before
…
the security footage from the theater…

But it wasn’t a thought Jeff was able to
dwell upon. In that very moment, he felt two large, muscled hands
gripping at his hips, clutching him in place as what felt like an
impossibly thick cock cleanly and swiftly penetrated him, steadily
burying itself inch-by-inch within Jeff’s tight, unprepared ass.
Stars seemed to flood his vision, his mind running blank, his every
nerve and brain cell seemingly overwhelmed by the unilateral
sensation of his ass being split open and reamed by this massive
cock. He opened his mouth to scream, but no scream came. Instead,
Jeff heard himself unconsciously moaning out two words he hardly
even recognized:

“
Harder, Sir
…”

He got what he asked for, the cock pulling
back only to thrust straight back in, faster, deeper, and harder
than before.

“
Harder
,
please…
” Jeff moaned,
again locking eyes with Danny, the slave whimpering as he took
Mason’s cock up his ass.

Jeff’s ass, meanwhile, was now bearing the
steady piston-like thrusts of his own master, each one sending a
shockwave of force rippling through Jeff’s body, jolting him
against the corner of the table. He wanted to cry out in pain and
beg for it to stop, but something wouldn’t let him. Instead, he
simply begged for more.

“
Harder please Sir!”

The cock was slamming itself into Jeff with
each merciless thrust now, leaving his entire body shaking with
pained exertion. But Jeff could also feel that familiar heat
building at the base of his scrotum, the slow burn in his prostate
that he had felt back in the theater…. He realized he was drooling
on the table, his eyes rolling upwards into his head as he
continued to get fucked. He snapped briefly back to attention,
focusing just long enough to see Danny in a similar pose behind
him, face twisted into a strained, breathy grimace, eyes wrenched
shut, cheek buried against the black leather…

And out of the corner of his eye, between
the slave’s legs, Jeff could see Danny’s cock. It was bulging out
from his body like a fifth appendage, so hard it might as well have
been chiseled out of stone. From the tip came a steady, sticky drip
of cum, each one of Mason’s thrusts seeming to force another few
droplets of the cloudy fluid to spurt out. Jeff gasped out a moan
at the mere sight of it. He too, was hard, he realized, his own cum
dripping own onto the cool cement floor below as he endured the
brutally intense pounding at the hands of his unseen master. The
heat in Jeff’s prostate had grown by now to a red-hot, sustained
blaze, each pumping thrust of cock up his ass seeming to stoke it
like a bellows blowing oxygen over glowing coals. The heat seemed
to melt Jeff from the inside out. His will to resist was gone. His
feelings of self-preservation were gone. Even his sense of identity
seemed to have vanished. All that was left was a singular instinct:
the instinct of submission.

The instinct of a slave.

He wasn’t Jeff anymore, he realized, just
like the slave beside him wasn’t Danny. This was the culmination of
submission. They weren’t individuals, they were property. They were
tools…

“…I’m a slave…” Jeff muttered, his voice low
and reverent. Danny opened his eyes at the words, staring at Jeff,
suddenly stoic once more, his fear and discomfort gone now. He
nodded with an odd, expectant eagerness, and Jeff immediately
repeated himself.

“I’m a slave!” he cried out, barely wincing
as his master forcibly spanked the palms of his hands down over
Jeff’s ass cheeks at full strength, still pummeling his cock in and
out of Jeff’s ass as fast and as hard as he could. Jeff’s eyes fell
shut, a strange, idyllic open-mouthed smile growing across his face
as his anonymous master grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his
head upright.

“Do you understand?” Danny whispered,
staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, yes,” Jeff gasped, his voice shaking.
“Fuck yes…”

Within moments, he could feel his master’s
first small explosion of cum shooting deep within his ass. Jeff
moaned at the sensation, savoring each successive spurt of the warm
fluid, his leg beginning to spasm and twitch against their bonds as
he began a sustained orgasm of his own. The budding heat at the
base of his groin felt as if it were spilling straight out of him,
not in a steady drip, but in a fountainous series of bursts. In
perfect sync with the dominant brute behind him, Jeff was hitting
the submissive climax his masters had intended for him to hit. It
washed over him and took ownership of him, redefining his very
identity, forcing him to exist within a single context: the context
of a slave.

“Fuck yes…” he repeated, whimpering the
words out in a shuddering whisper. “
Fuck yes…
”

~*~

SPLASH!

Jeff gasped, supremely startled by a thick
torrent of ice cold water landing across his face. He shook his
head and tried to squirm out of the way, but couldn’t, his neck and
wrists strangely immobilized…

Then, it came to him. He was still out in
the desert, locked away in the stocks. There was a hot morning sun
beating down on him – he’d made it through the night. The dungeon,
the padded table, Danny… despite seeming so visceral, none of it
had been real. Jeff hung his head, breathless as the water dripped
down off of his face, shaken from his abrupt return to reality, and
from where his subconscious had been so eagerly willing to take
him…

“Mornin’ sugar,” came a sickly sweet voice.
Jeff blinked some of the water clouding his vision out of his eyes
and raised his head, barely able to make out the figure standing in
front of him, empty bucket in hand. It was Trixie, just as cocky
and buxom as she’d been when Jeff had first pulled her over. “Are
you glad to see me?” she asked with a smile, biting her lip and
adding, “Because I’m sure as hell glad to see you…”

Jeff said nothing as she slowly moved behind
him, reaching out and tracing her red fingernails down his spine.
“You look good out of that uniform,” she cooed, giving his ass a
playful squeeze and teasing her thumb down his crack. “Tight little
ass, too…”

She bent down and retrieved a soapy rag from
the bottom of the bucket, wringing it out before bringing it
against Jeff’s ass cheek and starting to scrub. “Gotta make sure
you’re looking your best,” she said, dragging the rag down the
crack of his ass and shamelessly scrubbing over his hole in tight
circles. “Mason says you’re in for a big day…”

Jeff couldn’t even begin to imagine what
that meant. For the moment, he was still struggling to make sense
of his dream and come to terms with the fact, at least on a
subconscious level, this place might be affecting him faster than
he’d realized. Even now, with Trixie’s dehumanizing wash and rinse,
he didn’t even feel like he had the instinct to recoil, let alone
resist. Something within him was changing. His fiery spirit was
being contained, perhaps extinguished…