Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica) (9 page)

“You know,” Trixie said, scratching her
fingernails up around Jeff’s balls, “you could have bent me over
the hood of your cruiser, fucked my cute little ass with this juicy
cock of yours, and gone about your business… I knew you wanted it
the second I saw you.” She clenched her fingers, giving his balls
an unforgiving squeeze, yanking them low away from his body. “But
instead, you had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong…” Biting
her lip, she slowly worked a soapy finger up his exposed ass,
arching her eyebrow at his near-stoic lack of a response.

“Now look at you,” she said, her voice heavy
with mock woe as she started teasing the finger in and out. “Now
you’re
the one who’s gonna be getting plowed…” Her eyes fell
lower, to a flaky stain that had dripped down Jeff’s thigh. She
pulled the finger out of his ass and gave the stain a touch,
smiling to herself as she recognized the dried semen for what it
was.

“Well, looky here,” she said, half
incredulous. “Looks like somebody’s
excited
about getting
plowed…” She snickered to herself and buried the finger back up his
ass, down to the bottom knuckle, twisting it in as deep as
possible. “Is that right, officer?” Jeff bit his lip, trying as
hard as could not to give Trixie the satisfaction of forcing a
sound out of him. But it was no use. As intense as his dreams had
been, Jeff couldn’t help but let out a moan at the sensation of
Trixie’s finger probing his ass. She smiled, licking her lips at
the sound of it and reaching between his legs to wrap her free hand
around his cock.

“Come on, honey” she hissed, working her
finger in and out in perfect rhythm with each stroke of his dick.
“I want to see you nice and hard…”

She barely needed to make the request –
within seconds, Jeff’s cock was responding in full, quickly growing
fully erect within her hand. She licked her lips again, relishing
the sight of his cut, throbbing curvature, practically drunk with
power as she casually dominated this helpless slave …

“
Trixie!
”

She jolted upright at the voice, springing
to her feet and jumping back from Jeff as if he had suddenly become
electrocuted. There, just around the bend, stood Mason, glaring at
her with a fiery intensity that frightened even Jeff. He started
towards her, face frozen in anger – all she could do was tremble
and cower.

“I… I was just…”

SMACK!
With pure, concentrated rage
Mason backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling down
into the dust.

“Know your place, you filthy slut,” he
growled, spittle frothing from the end of his tongue. “No one makes
this one cum unless I say so.”

Trixie trembled up at him, nursing a small
stream of blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. “I… I’m
sorry – I just…. I thought he was like the others…”

Mason sneered, infuriated by the mere sight
of her. “He
isn’t
,” he spat. “Now get out of my sight.”

Trixie didn’t need to be asked twice,
quickly rising back to her feet and hurrying back in the direction
of them motel, leaving Jeff and Mason alone. Mason sighed, hanging
his head to try and regain his composure. The anger came so
naturally from him, and yet something about it seemed almost taxing
for him. He clearly preferred his more soft-spoken approach.

“…May I cum, sir?”

He turned his head to look at Jeff,
surprised to hear the slave’s voice at all. There was a barely
contained energy about him, Mason realized. His skin seemed rigid
and tense, his legs were shaking. His head was bowed, as if he
lacked the energy to raise it. And further south, between his legs,
Jeff was still very much erect, overtaken with primal, carnal
desires beyond his control or understanding.

A faint smile crept over Mason as he stepped
behind the slave, reaching between his legs and fondling his
rock-hard dick. “You need it, don’t you boy?” he mused, his voice
quiet and curious. Jeff kept his head low, a strange feeling of
shame coming over him just for asking anything of this man, this
brooding, dominant master. But after Trixie’s teasing, Jeff was
dying to cum, a nearly uncontrollable urge, and his newly empowered
submissive instincts knew that cumming meant begging for it.

So Jeff begged for it.

“Please sir…
please
make me cum…”

Mason chuckled. “Looks like the night out
here did you some good,” he said, giving Jeff’s dick a hearty
squeeze. Jeff gasped in response, completely beholden to Mason’s
touch.

“Oh, God… Sir,
please
…” Jeff moaned
again, practically a whine, “this slave needs to cum.”

Mason narrowed his eyes, thinking about it.
Then after a few seconds:

“
Not yet
.”

Jeff let out a whining groan. Mason released
his cock, letting it spring back up, bouncing against his stomach.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved a key ring, and began
unlocking the padlocks securing Jeff in place.

“No,” he repeated as the first lock clicked,
“I don’t think
I’ll
be making you cum right now…”

He leaned in close, his lips landing over
Jeff’s ear. What he said next sent a frigid chill down Jeff’s
already tingling spine.

“I’d prefer to watch X do that,” he
whispered.

~*~

Hands cuffed behind his back, ankles cuffed
just a few inches apart, and sore beyond belief from his night
hunched over in the stocks, Jeff struggled to stay upright as Mason
half led and half dragged him back towards the motel. As they
hobbled along, they passed Gus, who was busy leading a slave of his
own towards the dungeon, pushing him along like a wild animal via a
long metal pole that clipped to the steel collar around his neck.
The slave made no sound and avoided Jeff’s eyes as they crossed
paths, careful to keep his head bowed, his stare low to the ground,
but Jeff did catch a glimpse of the scar tissue seared into his
backside: the Roman numeral VI. Just like the “X” burned across
Danny’s ass.

“Don’t worry,” Mason said, his voice hushed
as he watched Jeff clocking the slave. “We’ll have you in your own
collar soon enough.”

The two of them arrived at the last door
along the row of motel rooms – room X. Mason produced his sizable
keychain from his pocket, shuffling through the keys and finally
finding the one that unlocked the door. It creaked open, revealing
darkness. Mason nudged Jeff inside, then turned on a light. To
Jeff’s surprise, he found himself within… a seemingly normal motel
room, stripped bare of all furniture, save for the king-size bed.
He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but after his time in the
dungeon and the theater, he certainly didn’t think the slaves’
quarters would be so simple.

With just a gentle shove, Mason sent Jeff
tumbling forward onto the bed. “Behave,” he grumbled, cautiously
uncuffing Jeff’s wrists and dragging them apart to the top corners
of the bed, where two fresh sets of cuffs were waiting, each one
bolted to the wall. Keeping Jeff in check with his vice-like grip,
Mason soon had him cuffed in place in the bed, arms spread over his
head, ankles still cuffed together.

“There,” Mason said, admiring his handiwork,
“perfect.”

Jeff closed his eyes, a sudden wave of
dizziness coming over him. He murmured quietly to himself, his
voice slurred and unintelligible. Had he really just begged this
man to make him cum? Why hadn’t he resisted being cuffed down to
the bed? Mason was strong, but if Jeff could have managed to
overpower him while his arms were free, he would have had a real
shot at escaping, especially considering the fact that he could
have taken Mason’s precious keyring. But no, Jeff had become
totally docile. What had happened to him? Had his evening in the
theater and his night in the stocks really had such a profound
effect on him?

“They’re breaking you down.”

Jeff opened his eyes, confused to find that
the voice didn’t belong to Mason. In fact, Mason was nowhere to be
seen – the door was closed and locked. The light coming through the
blinds seemed different in tone – time had passed.

And there before him, standing at the foot
of the bed, was Danny Major.

“Are… you real?” Jeff asked, his mind still
feeling hazy. Danny nodded, taking a solemn seat on the bed next to
Jeff. A sudden shiver came over Jeff, even though the room seemed
perfectly warm. “I think… they drugged me…” he said.

Again, Danny nodded. “The water,” he said.
“They always spike it to keep us woozy. After you’re here a little
while longer, you’ll get a little bit used to it.”

Jeff sighed, realizing that he had drunk
from Mason’s canteen again this morning. The small drink he had
last night was probably the reason he’d had such vivid dreams in
the stocks. “Quaaludes…” he mused, thinking back to Trixie’s truck.
Damn… had it really only been a day since he had pulled her over?
It felt like forever ago...

“You can’t fight it,” Danny said after a few
moments worth of silence. “They’ll always win.”

Jeff swallowed, choking back teary eyes, the
sense of powerlessness starting to become overwhelming. “You should
have let me run,” he said, his voice bitter.

Danny’s response was matter-of-fact. “They’d
have caught you. They’d have killed you. I’ve seen it happen a
dozen times since I’ve been here.”

“So what?” Jeff snapped. “Live or die, at
least it would have been on my terms. Now, I don’t even have the
will to fight back.” Jeff swallowed again, the lump in his throat
growing, a single tear trailing down the side of his face. “It
wasn’t your choice to make,” he said. “You’ve damned me. I came
here to help you, and you’ve damned me.”

Danny hung his head low. “I know,” he
conceded, his eyes starting to well up as well. “I just… I wanted
you here. I needed you here.”

“Why?” Jeff cried out, practically a wail,
his bloodshot eyes piercing through Danny’s considerable armor and
demanding a response. “You don’t even fucking know me!”

For a long time, Danny was silent. Then,
after a heavy breath, he spoke.

“Before Mason claimed me as his own, this
room used to be where they kept me,” he said. “Almost a year ago,
when I first ended up here… this was where it all started. Where
they broke me down. Do you know what kept me going for so long?

“I had somebody, someone suffering alongside
me, someone I came to care about. They played the two of us off
each other, played mindgames with us, and in the end, they made us
come to depend upon each other. It was the way they wanted it. And
it worked. I learned everything from him, everything they wanted me
to learn, anyhow. I became everything Mason wanted me to be. I
became the perfect slave, and it was all thanks to him. But all the
same… he… meant something to me.

“But then, Mason figured he had served his
purpose, so he sold him away to some Mexican drug lord, sold him
like he was a secondhand car or something. I’ll never see him
again. For all I know, he’s dead. Maybe he might as well be.”

Jeff’s glare softened into something
different, something like pity. He thought back to the security
footage, the video of Danny’s first days as a slave. “You’re
talking about the blond slave with the long hair,” he asked.

“Eric,” Danny said, before bitterly
clarifying, “Number
nine
.”

“They showed me footage of you two…
serving…”

Danny nodded, the reminder painful. “He
showed me how to submit, showed me how to take it. How to embrace
it. How to beat them. Or so I thought, anyway. Maybe all of it was
bullshit. I’ll never know for sure.”

Another brief silence ensued, but then Danny
put his hand on Jeff’s arm, looking straight down into the bound
slave’s eyes. “The point,” he said, “is that they broke me down,
from Danny Major into ‘X.’ But when Eric left, X left, too. I felt
dead inside. But then you showed up, and do you know what
happened?”

“…What?” Jeff asked, a bit transfixed by
Danny’s intensity.

“I felt like Danny Major again.”

Jeff exhaled deeply, another tear falling
from his eye, mirroring the one that was already falling from
Danny’s.

“That’s why I need you here,” Danny said.
“Because you and I… we’re going to escape this place. No matter
what they do to you, no matter how much they break you down, I need
you to keep believing that. Because for the first time in months, I
think I believe it, too.”

Jeff swallowed, his mouth dry. Was this
really the same slave he had discovered at the motel less than
twenty-four hours earlier? That Danny had seemed lifeless and
catatonic, but now, there was a spark present that wasn’t before.
There was hope.

The two of them locking eyes, Jeff gave a
solemn nod. “I’m with you,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

Danny nodded back, giving Jeff’s shoulder a
squeeze. “Good,” he said, reaching down and grabbing the chain
connecting Jeff’s ankles. Moving to the side, he began pulling it
upwards, dragging Jeff’s legs upward towards the wall over his
head, where a hook was drilled into the plaster.