Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2005 12:00:19 -0400
From: Richard <rwestgate@rogers.com>
Subject: Naked School Teacher Chapter 15

We've reached the end of this story. It's been a lot of fun, and I've
especially enjoyed the email comments I've received - the good and the bad!
I haven't answered some of the email over the last couple of weeks, but now
that I'm done, I promise I will. I resisted the temptation to tie up every
single loose end -- so there is room for you to imagine the future for
David and Mac. I am now intending to try my hand at a 'publishable' novel.
I want to thank the Nifty Archive for this opportunity to really try my
hand at something I've always wanted to do.

This is an original work of fiction, though based upon some true locations
and general circumstances. All of the characters exist only in my own
fevered imagination and none of the sexual incidents actually happened. I'm
happy to hear your thoughts about the story.

My sincere thanks to those who have written me. Your encouragement is
helpful in motivating me to write.

Love you all.


Naked School Teacher

Chapter 15


Reginald Bennett eventually took charge and things swung into motion at the
little hotel in Tunbridge Wells. It was decided that it was far too
dangerous for either of the boys to return to the school, so Reginald
called the headmaster and fixed it so they could stay the night. He rented
another room for them, and in spite of all their protests, packed them off
to bed long before all the details were sorted out.

Max called his contacts in the London Police force and an intrigued
detective promised to be there first thing in the morning. Max's hacker
friend began working on all his documentation so he'd have a file to hand
over to the cops as soon as they needed it.

Simon and Delroy were to go to the estate, posing as tourists and equipped
with cell phones, as soon as the stately home opened. They would scout out
possible locations where David and Mac might be held.

The others would accompany the police to the Turret Room. Afterwards Max
and Tom would try to get down to the estate. Reginald Bennett would act as
the command centre, return to the hotel and keep in touch with everyone.

They slept a few hours and then everyone was up at the crack of dawn, too
excited to sleep.

Detective Chief Inspector Horace Rathbone of Scotland Yard arrived at the
hotel at an impressive seven o'clock in the morning. He must have left home
around five-thirty!

Inspector Rathbone was a tall, gaunt man in his mid-forties. He was ram-rod
straight, in more ways than one. His eyes a piercing ice blue that stared
with terrifying penetration into the hearts of bad men everywhere. With Max
and the group, he was relaxed and jovial, making everyone feel relaxed and
exuding a kind of confidence and assurance that they all badly needed to
feel.

"So then, what's this all about?" he began as they sat in a quiet corner of
the hotel's breakfast room. Plates of steaming scrambled eggs and toast sat
before them. The boys had felt sick with apprehension and could not imagine
eating anything. "An army marches on it's stomach," pronounced the
Inspector with twinkling eyes. Suddenly Delroy and Tom realized they were
famished and began to devour the mountain of food before them!

"Okay, Horry, it's like this," began Max, and he laid out their suspicions
and the circumstances relating to the suspected boy-porn ring being
operated out of the school.

"Have you boys been involved in this?" the Inspector asked sharply. The
boys shook their heads, mouths stuffed with eggs.

"Chief Inspector," began Reginald Bennett, "they actually have been
involved ^Ö we think, but not willingly or knowingly." He went on to
explain about the hidden cameras. The Inspector's eyes raised.

When they explained that Mac had found a hidden computer with incriminating
evidence on it, the Inspector was getting seriously interested. "Can you
take me to this computer?"

"Yes, we can, but we also have stored a copy of some of the information,"
Simon pulled up his Powerbook and turning it to the Inspector's view began
to scroll through some of the files.

"I've also had a expert friend of mine take a look at the email archives
and do some sleuthing," offered Max.

"Hmmm," murmured the Inspector, looking up at Max, "why didn't you call us
in sooner?"

"Well, Inspector," Reginald jumped in soothingly, "we were just beginning
to put two and two together when events suddenly moved too quickly for us,"
and he filled the Inspector in on the latest developments. How Mac had just
discovered the computer ^Ö the actual evidence they needed ^Ö how he been
kidnapped, then how David had attempted a rescue and not been heard from
since.

"We believe," continued Reginald innocently, that the emails might point us
to who is behind all this and where David and Mac might be held.

"You might be right," said the Inspector pulling out his phone, "but it
seems to me we don't have too much time as this is now a kidnapping
case. My experience tells me we should move fast. Has your hacker friend
done any analysis on these emails that would give us a head start?"

Max couldn't believe it would be this easy, "Yes I think he has ^Ö here's
his number, would you like to call him?"

So the Inspector made a number of calls, and before they'd all finished
breakfast, a squad from London was on it's way down, a couple of police
computer experts were on their way to Max's hacker friend, and the local
Chief of Police was alerted to activate a sizable squad to stand by.

"As soon as we have some inclination as to where they are being held, we
can move," he explained. The others nodded in awe at the speed with which
this man had galvanized the resources.

"Now," he continued, take me to that computer in the Turret. Reginald
Bennett led the way in his car. He would drive back to the hotel
later. Simon went with him. The estate didn't open until around noon, so
he'd come back to the hotel with Reginald and drive his own car from there.

Max and the two boys went in the Chief Inspector's car. It was a sleek fast
black Jaguar. The boys were ecstatic to ride in it and plied the driver
with endless questions. Max and the Inspector sat in the back talking.

At the school, it was breakfast time and almost everyone was in the dining
hall. Delroy led the group up the Turret stairs and proudly opened the
secret room. Everyone was astonished.

Inside he had to search for the second switch, but Mac's description was
quite clear. Soon they were all staring at the computer sitting in the
second room.

"Okay," said the Inspector, satisfied that this story seemed to be shaping
up as substantially true. He trusted Max and could not imagine him
deliberately misleading him, but one never knew. A quick look at the
computer files established that he had indeed seen copies on the backup at
the hotel. He also got a look at some of the photos and also at the hidden
camera monitoring software. One or two boys, late for breakfast were still
showering, the Inspector noticed as he tested out some of the camera
links. This was quite an operation!

The Inspector was very careful with the computer. He had the foresight to
don thin surgical gloves before touching anything and he warned everyone
else to keep their hands in their pockets.

He checked through a large number of pictures, finally turning up pictures
of David and Mac. David was naked in the showers with the school soccer
team. Mac was lying naked on his bed jerking off! The Inspector looked at
all of them. They all blushed. Tom was feeling relieved that the picture of
him fucking David had not popped up on the screen! The Inspector's next
words deflated him.

"I can see that this material is going to be problematic for many
people. We will go through it all and try to identify as many boys as we
can, then contact their families to see what we can do to help."

`Oh god,' thought Tom, `me mum's gonna know!'

The Inspector phoned his driver and ordered him to come up the turret
stairs. "I'll want you to remain in here to secure this room until we get
some people in to do a proper collection of evidence," he announced.

While the Inspector and Max visited a surprised Headmaster in his
apartment, Reginald, Simon, Delroy and Tom all drove back to the
hotel. They had an early lunch and leaving Reginald behind they drove down
to the Stately Home to be there just after it opened to the public on this,
it's last day of the season.

The three `tourists' wandered around the grounds, visited the gift shop and
noted the time of the first guided tour of the day. They had some time to
kill, but they wandered around the parts of the house that were available
to them, marveling at the opulent furnishings and artwork.



Up at the school a mile away, Inspector Rathbone was gasping in amazement
on his cell phone, "Are you sure? Absolutely sure? I cannot make a mistake
on this!" He got off the phone and immediately made another. He turned away
from Max and the Headmaster.

They had all been sitting in the Headmaster's large living room when the
Inspector's cell phone had rung. He took the call from his team that had
visited Max's hacker. The news was electrifying. It also meant he could not
act on his own. Hence the second phone call. Then a third.

By the time he got off the phone, an Emergency Task Force group had been
mobilized from Tonbridge, the local Tunbridge Wells group had changed out
of uniform and into plain clothes. A large group of tourists were about to
descend on the local attraction! Finally, the secret service was swinging
into action and a group of agents were climbing into a helicopter somewhere
in London.

By the time the first guided tour of the day was getting started with
Simon, Delroy and Tom following the small group, the first of the ETF was
assembling in the parking lot of the school. The first job of the ETF was
to secure the school's soccer field to receive the secret service
helicopter. The boys were being kept inside the school, but nothing could
prevent them from gazing at all the excitement through the windows!

The Tunbridge Wells police group arrived at the school to pick up the
Inspector and Max. They were in assorted civilian cars in groups of two to
five, dressed in an almost conspicuous variety of clothing! They staggered
their arrival at the parking lot of the stately home over a period of about
an hour. They wandered aimlessly around like tourists do, waiting for the
second and third guided tours of the day.

As he studied the remarkable rose garden, the Inspector noted other people
arriving who were carrying small black sports bags. "That's odd," he
remarked to Max, nodding at two or three people walking from their cars
carrying the bags. He followed them at a distance and saw them go into the
reception area, speak to the clerk who let them into a door marked, "No
Admittance."

He and Max continued to watch until they'd seen more than a dozen people go
into the same door. The Inspector spoke to the clerk during a lull in
arrivals, "Seems quite busy today," he began conversationally.

"Oh, you've no idea!" the exasperated girl exclaimed, "Last day of the
bleedin' season is supposed to be real quiet! There should be two ov us on
if it's busy ^Ö I can't even go to pee!" she wailed petulantly.

"That's too bad," sympathized the Inspector, "I can see it's really busy."

"They should never `ave private events on busy days!" she wailed as another
group of `tourists' ^Ö more of Inspector Rathbone's troops arrived.

After they'd been served, Rathbone said, "Oh I didn't know you did private
events?"

"Oh yes, this is big ^Ö one of the boss's dress up ones, I'd say."

"Dress up?"

"Yeah. I dunno exactly what they do, but when they come with these bags,
it's generally a fancy dress do!"

The Inspector returned to Max and also indicated one of his men to join
them. "I need to get one of those bags those people are carrying," he
nodded to the parking lot where some more of the mysterious guests were
arriving. They waited for a likely looking victim ^Ö someone arriving alone
at a time when no other bag-carrying guests were to be seen.

Finally, the Inspector's man approached an elderly gentleman as he was
locking his car, "Excuse me sir, could I have quiet word?" He showed his
police badge.

"Oh, good afternoon officer, what is this about?" They walked toward the
building. The police officer indicated that the man should precede him into
the washroom. Relieved of his bag, which was passed to the Inspector, the
man was submitted to a body search that turned up nothing.

The Inspector opened the bag and removed a long black hooded cloak lined
with red satin and a white full-face mask. The Inspector turned the mask
over and noticed that inside, written in black pen was scrawled the word,
"Enigma."

He looked at the man. "What is the nature of this event, sir?" he asked
politely.

"It's just a fancy dress reception."

"Odd time of day, isn't it?"

"This is an end of season party that goes on until quite late," the man
explained. "Really officers, I don't see that you have any reason to delay
me."

"Well, sir, I'm afraid I will need to ask you a few more question, but down
at the station. This officer will take you."

The man protested, but was hustled outside, into one of the unmarked cars
and whisked away.

"Now," said the Inspector to Max, "I need a distraction."





After their introduction to the sadistic practices of their new masters,
Mac and David were taken down deep below the chamber, where their hideous
masks were at long last removed. They both gasped for air, but Mac
collapsed on the ground gasping and sobbing. He had worn his for almost
thirty hours with no food or water and precious little air!

They were put into small barred cells beside each other. There was only one
solid wall - at the back. The front and sides of the cells were open bars,
so they were clearly visible all around. Best of all, though, they were
next door to each other with only the floor-to-ceiling bars between
them. They could see each other, they could talk, and they could even
touch! A vile-looking slop was left for them tasted delicious, as they were
so hungry. They also had water. It took quite some time before they were
able to speak more than a few words.

"What the hell is this place?" croaked Mac when he could finally speak.

"I don't know what it is, but I do know where we are," David answered, and
told him how he had followed Johnson into the local stately home of James
Stewart, only to be caught when he had almost freed Mac.

"What are they going to do with us?"

"I have to say it doesn't look good," David began. "We have seen Stewart
now and can identify him, so they won't be intending to let us go. They
seem to be using us as stars in a kind of sadistic reality show that people
pay to see on the web. They'll make a fortune off us and then 'dispose' of
us when we are no longer useful. If we are to get out, we're going to have
to find a way to escape."

"Any chance the others might spring us?" Mac whispered, looking fearfully
around. No one seemed to be about.

David shook his head, "Best not to discuss that," he whispered in an even
quieter voice, and he winked. Mac permitted himself a tiny smile of
optimism.

They each had a rickety wooden bed with a flat pallet for a mattress. No
covers. No pillows. They pushed the beds to their common wall so they could
lie down side by side and hold each other through the bars. They talked
about their experiences of the last few hours, and it seemed less traumatic
now they were able to compare notes. At the time Mac had felt at times
close to losing his mind. He cried as he told David that he really had
begun to believe that he would go mad. "Stark barmy," he said to David,
"thought I'd lose me mind altogether!"

Neither could have imagined how isolating those full-head metal masks would
be. They deadened all sound and made them feel cut off from other people
and unable to anticipate events as they unfolded. The torture, the
alternate pain and pleasure were less traumatic for them than the
emotional, physical and spiritual isolation they suffered. They both agreed
that they did not want the hoods on again. Ever.

"David," murmured Mac as he was beginning to get sleepy, "when we get out
of here, we have to make some decisions."

"Oh?" queried David, wondering what he meant.

"Yeah. For one, I want to come and live with you. Permanently."

"Oh."

"For another, I want you to have sex only with me!"

"Okay," David said tentatively, wondering how these things were to be
accomplished, given that Mac was still a minor and that David was still in
a position of authority over him.

"I thought we might go to Canada for a coupla weeks."

"What!" exclaimed David. "Why would we want to do that? Not that I've got
anything against Canada!"

"We could get married there," murmured Mac sleepily.

"Oh. Right," said David as Mac dropped into a sound sleep. Before too long
David joined him.





As Max impersonated a moronic tourist who had a hard time understanding the
simplest directions, Inspector Rathbone slipped unnoticed into the "No
Admittance" door. Inside, he wandered cautiously down a corridor lined with
doors, following the low murmur of voices. He finally entered an open door
marked "Men" and found two or three men who had preceded him carrying the
same kit bags. They stripped naked, he was surprised to note, and then
donned their enveloping black cloaks, set their white masks in place and
covered their heads with the hoods. Each mask was different, Inspector
Rathbone also noticed. The nodded a greeting, but did not speak to
him. They seemed to be speaking of some mutual business interests.

Inspector Rathbone began to disrobe, wondering how he would carry his
communication device. It was very sleek and inconspicuous. A hardly
noticeable button in his ear that incorporated a bone conduction
microphone, no wires and a power unit no bigger than a cigarette lighter
that had to be concealed somewhere. He dithered long enough that the others
had left before he had to figure it out. By that time he was naked, had
stuffed the unit in his sock and pushed the button in his ear, brushing his
longish hair over his ears. As two other men arrived, he was putting on his
costume. Again, he dithered long enough that he could follow the men to
their next destination.

Rathbone held back from the group ahead of him to try to observe the
procedure so he could emulate them, and also to make sure that his deputy
out in the grounds could hear him. They established communication with
Rathbone muttering in a barely audible fashion. He described his progress
and approximate location, so the others could follow at the right time. His
men were already wandering all over the grounds and had just about got the
entire main building surrounded - though inconspicuously!

Rathbone, following at a distance saw the men go down a set of stairs into
a basement level. They were met at a large steel door by a burly security
guard, who asked them something. Each man answered for himself, and the
guard nodded and opened the door to let him in. 'Damn!' thought
Rathbone. He'd been too far back to overhear what was said.

He approached the door and the man said, "Good evening sir. What is the
Word?"

'The Word?" thought Rathbone, his mind racing. Surely he could not be
balked at this point. He considered retrieving his badge from where he had
shoved it in his sock, but then that would probably ensure that the entire
group inside melted innocently into the woodwork! Each of the men had
answered - one Word did not do for all of them. They each had a -- Word.

Then he remembered. Of course! "Enigma," he intoned. The word that was
scrawled inside his mask by its forgetful owner!

"Have a good evening sir," the guard opened the door and Rathbone, sweating
with relief, passed through.

Rathbone walked slowly down a brick-lined passageway that gradually widened
out. He could hear a rhythmic chanting from up ahead. The passageway opened
out into a vast chamber, completely lined in brick. There were several
levels of tiers descending to a kind of focal point at the centre of the
room. Standing around the highest terraces around the room were
black-cowled masked figures. They formed an eerie unsettling sight. The
deep chanting seemed to emanate from the very structure around him, having
no location and no direction. It sounded like a cross between Greek
Gregorian and Tibetan throat chanting. It became so deep and slow at times,
that he could feel his teeth vibrate in his head.

Rathbone saw the group ahead of him join one of the tiers below and stand
as part of the circle facing the centre. Rathbone followed and joined in
beside them. As he did so there was a kind of ripple running all around the
chamber. Startled, Rathbone glanced around to try to discern what had
happened. It was difficult to be precise because with everyone masked he
could neither tell where they were looking nor read any facial
expressions. He had the impression that their attention was upon him. He
studied the tiered circles of figures opposite, to try to figure out
why. Then suddenly, with a sickening jolt to the pit of his stomach, it hit
him!

Rathbone was standing in the circular tier second from the top, so there
was a row behind him. There was also a third tier in front of him, and it
was that line of figures that caught his attention. Every figure on the
lower tier had robes lined in red. The other two tiers, including
Rathbone's, wore robes that were lined in white. Rathbone had joined the
wrong tier, and everyone noticed. Shit!

Concious of all eyes in the room falling upon him from behind the
inscrutable non-human masks, Rathbone moved to his right until he found a
spot where he could drop down into the red tier. He couldn't tell if he'd
improved the situation or made it worse. The room settled down. More people
arrived. The chanting continued.

Rathbone studied the small group at the centre of the chamber. There were
five, one of whom was clearly the leader. Rathbone wondered if he was
Stewart. They were all identical except for the facial expressions on their
white masks. In front of them six steel cables emerged from holes in the
floor and soared up to the ceiling high above disappearing into the
gloom. Only flaming torches set in sconces around the perimeter illuminated
the entire cavernous vault. It gave the red-bricked structure a flickering
red-glowing, hellish appearance. The mysterious black figures with their
white masks catching the red light and the deep, sonorous chanting enhanced
this feeling that he had stepped into the Devil's lair.

So suddenly that Rathbone's heart almost ceased to beat, the chanting
stopped. The utter silence was, by comparison, almost deafening. Rathbone
felt shivers run up his spine and the hairs on the back of his head
definitely lifted!

A slow, dramatic and very deep bass drum beat started up. Rathbone could
not see where the singers were nor where this new drummer was -- perhaps it
was piped in over hidden speakers.

As the drumming began, the assembled watchers began to sway side to side in
unison. Rathbone joined them. All eyes seemed to be focused on the ground
in front of the leaders where the cables emerged. As he watched in fearful
fascination, the floor opened up into a wide cavernous and dark pit. The
cables began to move up into the ceiling. As they did so, some large
objects began to emerge from the floor.

This was truly terrifying to Rathbone, hardened cop though he was! He was
now sweating and trembling and felt freezing cold shivers running down his
spine. His hands and feet felt cold as ice.

When he saw what emerged from deep underground to hang suspended low down
in the crowded vault, he almost cried out in horror! It looked like three
crucified yet still living naked men!




David and Mac awoke naturally after a deep sleep. They were still holding
hands and felt re-invigorated. They stared at each other and kissed through
the bars. It was hard to caress properly, but they touched each other in
places they could reach, often having to withdraw an arm and re-enter
between other bars to reach another body part.

It was like making love to their prison bars as well as to each other! The
feel of the cold steel on their bodies became a part of the eroticism of
the moment. They quickly became erect and they played with the erections,
fondling the tight testicles, spreading the glistening pre-cum over the
shafts.

Soon they were both on the edge, their lips locked between the bars. Their
hands grasped the cocks protruding between other bars. They slowed their
activity down to maintain each other on the brink of cumming. Sighing and
nuzzling, they floated in a blissful Eden for long minutes. Finally they
moved more intensely and they spurted with satisfying violence into their
hands. They dozed in blissful contentment.

"Well, that was very lovely, boys!" exclaimed a voice. They sat up blearily
to see a rough-looking burly man staring at them through the bars. "Time to
get up!"

They dragged themselves reluctantly from their hard beds and warm
embrace. The man unlocked one cage at a time, fastening a chain leash to a
testicle-shackle before allowing them to exit their prison. They were
effectively restrained. One sharp pull caused great pain, and a severe tug
on the chain would threaten to rip their balls right off! Neither felt
inclined to chance it.

The man led them, of all places, to a shower. The warm soapy water was
utter bliss after their ordeal. However, the jailer hurried them along,
tugging their leash if he felt they were taking too long. David tried using
lots of soap on his testicle restraint, hoping he could slip it off, but
found it was just too tight. Finally they were clean and were dragged away
by their balls, still wet.

Back in the torture chamber, they dried rapidly in the hot atmosphere,
standing near to a blazing forge where a blacksmith was busy constructing
arcane and terrifying devices. A couple of men stripped to the waist and
wearing only a dirty leather loin-cloth, began to fit them with some kind
of metal device. They made a number of adjustments before finally fitting
and securing it. Only then did it become clear what it was.

In some ways it was quite beautiful. It was a light and airy cage-like
device that held their arms straight out from their shoulders, and braced
across their backs, with a neck brace that also came under their jaws, with
a rubbery kind of tongue depressor. Once locked down, they were held head
facing forward, arms straight out and unable to speak. The beauty of the
device was in the metalwork. It looked vaguely Giger-esque. It was smooth,
with rounded edges, open fret-work in natural forms. It surrounded their
arms, necks and jaws in a light cage. They were free to move around, but
unable to move their arms or their heads. Or speak. A devilishly effective
device.

Once the cage was attached, effectively handicapping them, the ball
restraints were removed. Somewhere far above, they could faintly hear
something that sounded like Gregorian chanting. Neither could raise his
head up to look. They were constrained to look only straight ahead. David
felt a rising sense of panic.

A third man, shackled in exactly the same way was brought over to join
them. He was tall, dark haired, with a thatch of black hair on his chest
and a line of hair down to his pubic area. The pubes were trimmed and his
balls were shaven. He was a well-built, muscular guy perhaps in his
mid-thirties, David guessed. He looked utterly terrified! His piercing blue
eyes gazed with silent pleading at David. He looked as though the spirit
had left him and he was afraid for his life. He was made to stand between
the two boys.

Long chains that dangled down from the ceiling were clipped to rings placed
halfway along their arms cages, two chains to each man. Their jailers stood
back as if waiting for something. Overhead the monotonous chanting
continued, though muffled.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. In the silence they could hear a loud
grating noise above them, but could not see what was happening. All three
were straining their eyes upwards from their locked heads, fearful of what
new horror was to befall them.

Then the chains tightened and they found themselves rising slowly off the
ground! The older man raised up first and when he had lifted up about three
feet, the other two began to rise. They rose into the ceiling and found
themselves staring with wide eyes at a scene so full of implied threat and
horror, that had their mouths not been so securely fastened, they would all
have screamed. They were in a deep, tiered chamber with circles upon
circles of terrible black robed figures with horrendous white masks
distorted into all kinds of inhuman expressions.

David could not turn his head to properly see the other two rising up with
him, but as he swung and twisted slightly, he was able to catch glimpses of
the three of them. It was unmistakeable! They looked like an unholy
Calvary!





Rathbone stared with horrified fascination as three beautiful naked men
were hoisted on chains from the black depths below the chamber. They looked
as if they had been crucified on crosses, but as he looked closer, he saw
that they were in fact hanging loosely from some kind of metallic
exoskeleton that encased their arms, shoulders, necks and came around under
their jaws. The chains fastened midway along their horizontally extended
arms. They stared fixedly ahead as if their necks were immobilized. Their
legs moved with twitching movements. Their eyes were wide with fear and
apprehension. Their bodies were dripping with sweat from the heat and the
fear. Every part of their musculature stood out in relief in the flickering
red light of the flames that illuminated the cavern. The doors closed below
them. They hung motionless a foot from the floor. Dangling. Helpless. The
drums stopped. Silence.

Rathbone had no real idea who they were. He'd seen pictures of the two
boys, and supposed that two of them were in fact David and Mac - though
they were unrecognizable except in the most general terms - white blonde
boy, black hunky boy. He had no clue as to the identity of the third member
of the unholy trinity.

The group in the centre stirred as if about to take some action. Rathbone
murmured almost soundlessly to his listening deputy, "Stand by."

The leader in the centre raised his arms above his head, with a long
silver-tipped staff in his right hand. Slowly he extended the staff high
aloft, then down and around, describing a great circle, pointing along each
member of the watching figures around the first tier. The silver tip of the
staff stopped pointing down near Rathbone's feet! He gulped. "Get ready!"
he muttered.

Two burly men, naked except for leather loin clothes, moved to the spot in
front of Rathbone. Although he'd noticed it, the steel brazier full of
burning coals, had not really registered on his mind. It stood a few feet
in front of and below him. The men stood on either side, inserted steel
poles into hooks on either side of the brazier then lifted and placed it
close to the tall dramatic leader. Then they moved to stand on either side
of the man hanging in the centre of the trio.

Rathbone was horrified and also fascinated to see what this was about. The
leader turned, reached for something and turning back he thrust something
into the red-hot coals. The drums softly began to beat again.

After some minutes as the drums increased in tempo and volume, the leader
reached for the iron handled implement he had put into the fire. When he
withdrew it, the end glowed near to white-hot. It looked like a miniature
cattle brand!

The men on either side of the unfortunate man in the middle, hanging
helplessly naked, with his tender skin exposed not only to the gaze of all
around, but now it seemed vulnerable to the fierce heartless heat of the
branding iron!

Rathbone muttered into his communication device, "Go! Go! GO!"

The man struggled and tried to scream, but of course could do
nothing. Rathbone took a step forward. The leader looked up sharply at the
movement. He seemed to study Rathbone for a moment, then with a flourish
and before Rathbone could react, he stepped forward and stabbed the
white-hot tip of the iron onto the breast of his victim! The hefty men on
each side struggled to hold him still as the sound of sizzling flesh could
be heard even above the crescendo of the drums. Soon the sickly smell of
burning meat wafted over the crowd. Rathbone thought he was going to throw
up.

Mercifully, the iron was cast aside and the leader stepped back to regard
his handiwork. The victim was hanging with his head back, limp.

The leader reached behind again and retrieved another branding iron. The
victim did not even see it this time. After heating it up and the drums
rose to an almost impossible crescendo that quickened the hearts of all in
the chamber. They were all swaying in rhythm to the beat. Again the cruel
hot iron was thrust to the victim's body, this time branding him on his
buttock. He twitched and writhed in absolute agony.

A third time a branding iron was retrieved from the fire and this time it
stabbed the hapless and agonized man on the tender skin just half an inch
above the base of his cock.

"Now, dammit, NOW!" Rathbone almost shrieked into his microphone. Where the
fucking hell were his men?

The drums were now a blur of sound and the watching multitude seemed almost
hypnotized by the proceedings. Rathbone stepped forward. This could not go
on!

The Leader, still brandishing the hot iron, swirled towards Rathbone at his
movement. He pointed at him with an imperious gesture. The two loin-clothed
men turned and moved toward him, holding Rathbone by each arm. With another
gesture from the leader, they ripped Rathbone's cloak from his body,
leaving him naked before the assembly. Rathbone gasped in surprise, it
happened so quickly.

Horace Rathbone was not, in most circumstances, a shy man. However, nudity
was not something he had ever practiced, nor was he comfortable with
it. Standing naked before dozens of people as the centre of attention was
acutely embarrassing to him. Unconciously, he moved his hands to cover his
genitals. His wrists were immediately grabbed and held roughly behind his
back. He fervently hoped the trapdoors would open again and swallow
him. They didn't. Yet.

One of the men behind him ripped off his mask. A collective sigh went up
from the crowd.

The leader stepped back in shock, "What have you done with Enigma?"

'Now!' whispered Rathbone into his communication device. To the shocked
leader, presumably the British Foreign Secretary, he said, "Enigma is quite
safely being entertained by Her Majesty's Government. Less opulently than
the entertainment here, I observe, Sir James."

James Stewart stiffened as if it were simply NOT done to mention actual
names in these circumstances! "Who are you?"

"I am a police officer, and I am calling an end to these proceedings."

"Well now officer, that hardly seems justified."

"What are you doing with these men?" Rathbone nodded in the direction of
the swinging trio, who were now desperately trying to bend their gaze
around to see who was speaking, hope springing into their eyes.

"They are the stars of our little fantasy show," explained Stewart
smoothly, "nothing illegal, I assure you."

Rathbone was annoyed that he'd been forced to reveal himself so early in
the proceedings before anything incontrovertibly criminal had taken
place. Perhaps the three victims (or stars!) would testify to being held
against their will, but he wouldn't count on it, though surely the branded
man would lay charges. "Well, please don't let my presence stop the show,"
Rathbone said mildly, "I'm quite interested to see what happens, so long as
it doesn't involve more barbecuing of live participants."

Stewart was about to reply, when he noticed a movement on the chamber's top
tier. He looked up, and Rathbone followed his gaze. Rathbone's men were at
long last stationing themselves all around and looking down with mild
amusement at their naked boss!

Blushing furiously, Rathbone cleared his throat, "Hrmm, Gentlemen, please
remain where you are," he called in his loud commanding voice, turning
slowly to cast his eyes all around the circular chamber, "you will be
released one at a time and questioned. Do not be alarmed, if you have done
nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear. My Deputy will direct you
shortly."

With that, Rathbone turned to face Stewart again. "Sir James, I will
require your presence at headquarters to discuss this event. Please request
your men to release me."

Sir James Stewart did not move nor did he acknowledge Rathbone's command.
He just stood there facing Rathbone.

He never quite knew what it was that triggered his move, but a split second
before the trapdoors under his feet suddenly dropped with a loud clang,
Rathbone leaped towards the nearest hanging man, the blonde one. He grabbed
onto the outstretched metal arms, holding his body close to the other's,
just as the chains rapidly descended into the depts. At the same time
Stewart, black cloak flying also leaped onto the third hanging man, the
black one.

Rathbone wrapped his legs around his man, acutely aware that their naked
cocks were crushed together. He looked into the blue eyes of the gagged and
immobilized man. The man regarded him with an unreadable expression. This
must be David Jones, thought the Inspector. This close - their noses were
three inches apart - Rathbone could recognize David from his photograph. An
utterly unmistakeable movement against his cock almost made Rathbone let go
his hold! David's cock definitely twitched! Rathbone looked again into his
eyes. They twinkled with amusement, though the boy could not smile,
Rathbone was sure he was laughing inside!

Rathbone looked away utterly humiliated and ashamed as his own cock began
to respond! Pretending it wasn't happening, Rathbone peered down into the
darkness, wondering how far they had to go and if he could safely jump the
rest of the way. But it was too dark to see. The doors above them shut
again, extinguishing even the dim red light that had spilled down into the
bottomless dark.

The reached the bottom in only a few seconds, though it seemed a lifetime
to Rathbone, trapped with his naked body wrapped around the naked body of
David Jones, while their two cocks fought with each other. Rathbone leaped
from David and turned to where Sir James Stewart had likewise dismounted
his naked carrier. The light here was very dim, but Rathbone could see
enough. He reached out to grab Stewart, but the man evaded his grasp and
disappeared into the gloom. Cursing, Rathbone moved around the space to see
where he had gone, but he kept bumping into things and tripping. He
eventually reached a wall and explored until he found a light switch.

The hell-hole was revealed in the bare light -- the only word for it was
medieval torture chamber! Racks and chains and flagellation devices were
everywhere! There in the centre were the three hanging naked bodies, all
squinting their eyes at the light and facing towards him mutely pleading
for release.

Looking around, Rathbone found a long metal spike, whose purpose he could
only guess at. He shoved this into the hasp of the padlocks fastening the
devices around each of the three prisoners necks. With a levering movement,
he shattered the locks.

As he let each one down, they held onto their arms in agony as the blood
circulation returned to normal; they coughed and choked and spat in
disgust, relieved to get the rancid taste of their gags from their mouths.

Rathbone turned his attention to the branded man. His wounds looked red and
angry, the skin burned black and crispy around the branding design. "How
are they?" he asked the man.

"I'll live, he gasped. Rathbone helped him to sit on a nearby bench.

"Wait here, my men will find you and get you to medical treatment. I need
to make sure the ringleader doesn't escape."

"You going like that?" Mac asked, grinning at the Inspector's naked state.

Rathbone looked down at his rock hard cock, sticking straight out from his
body, "I don't seem to have much choice. He must be caught, and only I know
where he went." He nodded towards the door.

"Okay, I'll come with you," offered David, "Mac perhaps you could stay here
with our friend to make sure he's okay and gets treatment as quickly as
possible?"



The naked school teacher and the naked police inspector trotted up the long
sloping passageway leading from the torture chamber. There were no doorways
or branches, just a long damp, brick-lined passage. They finally reached a
door and opened it. They were in some kind of stables or barn that had long
ago been converted into a multi-car garage. The main doors to outside were
wide open, and there was no sign of Stewart. Rathbone peered cautiously
outside. They were quite some distance from the main house, now enveloped
in the darkness of early evening. He could see the lights of cars and
police vans that had been brought in to convey the hapless participants of
tonight's 'entertainment' into town. Off in the opposite direction he saw
the tail brake lights of a car come on near a small copse. Stewart's car
about to make a clean getaway!

Rathbone spun around towards David, "No time to lose! We have to get after
him before he gets clear!" There were several cars, but one was an open-top
MG two seater. Rathbone found the keys in the glove compartment and in
seconds they were off in hot pursuit.

The fact that they were both still totally naked, in an open-top tiny
sports car, on a cool mid-September evening, did not really dawn on
Rathbone until they got onto the main road down beside the small wooded
section, where he'd seen Stewart disappear, and picked up speed. In minutes
they were freezing cold, the wind whipping around places it had no business
to be whipping.

A shivering David leaned forward and fiddled with the heater controls. Soon
hot air was blasting at their feet, warming their legs briefly before being
swirled up and out into the night. Still it was enough to make the ride
slightly more bearable. Rathbone wondered what he'd do when they got to the
bright lights of a town.

Rathbone was an expert driver, and with this car, even on the narrow
twisting roads of the Kent countryside, he drove flat out taking every
corner like a pro. Soon the taillights of Stewart's car were drawing
appreciably closer. Stewart was prone to making sudden last minute turns
into ever smaller country roads. At one point he joined a major highway for
a few miles and just managed to stay ahead of them. He took an exit from
the highway at the last possible minute, and Rathbone, failing to make the
same exit brought the MG to a screeching halt and had to back up, losing
valuable seconds. They'd lost him! Rathbone drove slowly through a small
village and spotted a Jaguar that looked like Stewart's. It was empty. He
pulled up behind it and got out to investigate.

The hood was warm. The doors were locked. Inside the car looked empty -
nothing on the seats. As he peered through the windows, David sitting in
the MG behind, the door of a nearby pub opened, spilling a couple of
inebriated local men in beery good cheer onto the street. "Whoa, George,
look at the naked poof!" They both laughed uproariously. "Handsome knob
he's got though, eh?" They fell all over each other laughing again.

Inspector Horace Rathbone drew himself up with dignified grace. Standing in
the only road through this small country village, totally naked except for
rather riduculous black socks and shoes. He cleared his throat, "Hrrm, have
you seen the owner of this car?"

The men stared with fascination at his cock, which began to grow again
under their gaze. Rathbone shifted uncomfortably, too mortified with
embarrassment to try to cover his errant member. "Nah, mate, never saw
anything like that before -- ah, I mean I dunno the car!"

"Thank you, you can be off now," rasped Rathbone. David grinned at his
discomfiture.

"Ha ha, we could all get off now, I reckon," laughed one of the guys as
they stumbled on their merry way. They told this story many times in the
following years. No-one ever believed them!

Rathbone stood looking around, trying to put himself into Stewart's
shoes. Really the only possible place for him to go was the pub. If he were
not naked, Rathbone would not have hesitated to investigate. As it was he
had no idea what to do.

"Perhaps we should both go in," David suggested, sensing the reason for
Rathbone's indecision.

"We can both be arrested for being naked in public," Rathbone said in
despair.

"Seems to me we are in the middle of an emergency," said David, "doesn't
the law allow you to run naked out of a burning building? Be a dumb law if
it didn't!"

"Well, yes there is a 'reasonable cause' provision, I suppose. 'Still, I'm
not sure I can simply go in there naked."

"I can," said David, realizing that there was a good side to his habit of
losing his clothes all the time - he'd become quite comfortable with his
body being on display in almost any situation. As it was, he'd been totally
naked for more than 48 hours by now. "How about I go in first and you
follow right behind me?"

Seeing no alternative to standing around out here, Rathbone agreed.



Kit Sherwood was almost seventy this year, and he and his wife Kitty --
yes, yes, they were Kit and Kitty! Some called them The Kitses or even the
Kittens -- had run the Golden Plough all their working lives. They
inherited it from Kit's father, who'd taken over from his father - four
generations it had been in the family. The building itself had been an inn
for hundreds of years. It had seen the Civil War and every major historical
and political event since had left its mark in some way. Now a fiercely
protected historical building, it had been restored with immaculate
attention to detail and was a major local attraction. People came from
miles around for its renowned food, local beers and comfortable
ambiance. Kit and Kitty had seen everything in their time -- everything in
fact, except two totally naked full-grown men walk brazenly into their pub!

It was late and off season, so the pub was not as crowded as it had been an
hour ago, but still had a good number of patrons sitting around the main
parlour. Kit looked up as the door opened and his jaw dropped. He stared at
the two men in utter shock and astonishment. Kitty saw Kit's expression
first, and turned to see what had so suddenly caught his attention. She saw
a tall, broad-chested man in his late forties, with a thatch of graying
chest hair. As her eyes travelled down his torso, she noted the discernable
abs leading down to -- ohmygod! -- to a thick patch of pubic hair, then his
-- his -- Thing! Her hand went to her rounded mouth as it formed a tiny
barely audible, "oh!"

Then Kitty noticed the naked man's companion. This was a very attractive
young -- boy, really -- he was blonde, blue-eyed, with an utterly hairless
body, and also, his -- Thing -- was hanging and swinging ponderously --
much bigger than the other man's. MUCH bigger than Kit's come to that! Oh,
my goodness, Kitty did not really appreciate until this moment that those
Things came in a variety of sizes! She wondered momentarily what it would
have been like -- not that she and Kit did -- anymore -- wait, what was she
thinking? Stop it! She commanded herself. She blushed from her head to her
ample bosom. Kitty fanned herself with the nearest beer mat.

Kit recovered himself enough to stutter, "Oy now, yer can't come in `ere
like that! Be orf wiv yer!" He flapped his hands towards the door as if he
were shooing geese.

Reaching the bar by this time, Horace Rathbone bent down to retrieve his
official police badge. Now David, who had a bit more experience of being
naked in public by this time, could have told poor Horace that when one was
in the situation of being utterly and completely naked in a pub that had
several people sitting all around it, you did NOT simply bend from the
waist to retrieve anything from your sock. He could have raised his foot
until he could reach his badge without bending, or he could have bent his
knees to that he could have gracefully descended straight-backed until he
could get it.

Horace did not know these things. He bent completely over and plucked his
badge out of his sock. Several people sitting behind this display closed
their eyes in disgust, one older woman actually screamed -- not loudly, but
a definite scream! Most men looked away out of the window as if there
might, please God, be something fascinating out there to take their
attention and to erase from their minds the image they had just seen.

Poor old Horace's bum had been displayed to all and sundry in that most
unflattering aspect. He bent, his ass suddenly became the only part of him
that could be seen, and by comparison assumed enormous proportions! He was
hairy all over, was Horace, with a light sprinkling of hair all over his
buttocks. But when bent down like that, his ass cheeks opened right up to
reveal the thick line of jet black hair, like the pelt of a mink. It shone
in the glow of the pub's lights. In the very centre of this svelt crack,
was his hoary asshole.

Of course, Horace realized his mistake the second he'd made it. Standing
hurriedly back up to his full height, with his badge in hand, trying to
ignore the growing sounds of outrage all around, he declared with a certain
amount of defiance - and it must be admitted at a greater volume than was
strictly necessary, "I am a police officer! I wish to find the owner of the
light grey Jaguar sedan parked outside!" He glared at Kit.

Kit opened his mouth, then closed it. He could not even process the thought
that not only was he confronted by a naked man, but that said naked man was
also a police officer. A naked police officer!

A tall slim man at the other end of the bar who had been quietly sipping
his Scotch while watching the scene with amused detachment, spoke up, "Ah,
Constable, the Jag is mine, I believe."

Rathbone whirled towards him. He recognized him instantly. "Sir James," he
said, "You've led us a merry chase!"

"Oh?" his patrician eyebrows raised a touch, "I wasn't aware, I just
dropped in for a night cap. What's the problem?" He rose from his bar
stool, drink in hand. He moved towards Rathbone stared pointedly at the
Inspector's cock as if inspecting his credentials. "I see."

Rathbone realized with impotent rage that Stewart was probably free and
clear -- for the moment. He would not find Stewart's incriminating cloak or
mask. There would be nothing in the car to absolutely prove that it was the
one they had chased from tonight's event. "I must ask you to accompany me
to the police station in Tunbridge Wells," he announced hopelessly, "I am
investigating some incidents tonight and I believe you can help us with our
enquiries."

"Well, certainly, anything to oblige, Constable," he replied smoothly, "
but first I have to inform my lawyer and my security staff." He got his
cell phone from his pocket and retreated to a corner out of earshot.



And so it was, that half an hour later, the Honourable Sir James Stewart,
Knight Commander of the British Empire drove his high powered Jaguar XLS
into the forecourt of the Tunbridge Wells police station accompanied by
Deputy Chief Inspector Horace Rathbone, who happened to be totally naked
sitting, beside him. They were followed by David Jones, also totally naked,
driving Sir James's `borrowed' MGB convertible. A large black Rover driven
by Sergeant Bob Miller of MI5, assigned to ensure the safety of the British
Foreign Secretary, rounded out the whole procession! This improbable scene
was made all the more ironic by the fact that of all the strange facts
associated with this event, perhaps the strangest of all was that the
British Empire had ceased to exist over fifty years ago!

The small town police station was crowded to overflowing with officers from
Divisions all over the southeast and by the horde of black-cloaked men. All
were required to remove their masks, but kept their cloaks along with their
modesty, though they would often flap open to reveal naked torsos of every
shape and size imaginable.

As David and Rathbone entered the police station, many of the officers knew
Rathbone and David was amused to see the enormous efforts to maintain a
straight face that they made at their commander's nudity. Rathbone seemed
to always react to this kind of attention by springing a boner! This of
course made it more difficult for his men and also for him! Eventually
someone loaned him a raincoat. He then looked like the stereotypical
Flasher, which didn't help too much!

David was driven to the hotel to join up with the rest of the group. He was
told to remain near home until the police could find the time to question
him about this night's events.



At the hotel, with the group reunited Reginald Bennett, Max, Simon, David
and the three boys, Max, Delroy and Tom, and for the first time free of the
threat hanging over them, everyone was in a celebratory mood. Bennett had
ordered food and they all, including the boys, got stuck into the beer.

The television news was full of it! They watched in fascinated awe as the
events they had put into motion fanned out across the country. Raids had
been carried out at every known residence of the Foreign Secretary and even
at his offices, both in the department and also in Parliament. It was too
soon to really know anything in detail, but the police were clear that they
were busting a major child porn ring with tentacles across the
world. 'Hundreds of millions' of dollars, the excited media heads crowed,
"It's actually billions," said David mildly.

As the excitement of endlessly repeated news stories that added absolutely
nothing new began to pall, they settled down to talk about what happens
next. Some of them began to yawn, the issue of sleep becoming unavoidable.

Mac, mindful of his desperate thoughts while in the barred cell with David,
and anxious that his life would return to the utterly mundane boring world
of 'before' all this, said, "Mr. Bennett?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Um, you know how David -- er -- Mr. Jones got permission to look after me
over the summer?"

"Yes?"

"Is there a way that can be for always?"

"Oh!" Reginald looked first at David and then at Max, "I don't know. You
still have living parents --"

"But my dad threw me out!"

"But still a minor and therefore in need of parental consent -- unless you
are made a ward of the court, not a good option as it would be too
uncertain. When are you sixteen?"

"Almost a year."

"Well, when you are sixteen you'll be able to leave home if you want
to. Also, since David is also your teacher, I'm not sure what would be
possible --"

"How about if I quit the school?"

"What?" David stared at him aghast.

"Well, if I lived with David and went to school in Tunbridge Wells -- you
know, like the other teacher's kids do?"

"Hmmm," mused Reginald, "it might work --"

"Now wait just a doggone minute!" yelled David in exasperation, "don't I
get any say in this?"

"Sorry," said Mac contritely but with a twinkle in his eye. He coughed
importantly, and David noticed how the light reflected on his ebony skin as
he sat amongst them - like David, both still naked, "David, would you be
agreeable, if it can be legally arranged, for me to come and live with you
forever, or at least until I find another boyfriend," David threw a cushion
at his head, "so you can look after me until I graduate high school?" Mac
paused, somewhat breathless after this long speech. "Of course the
commitment would not end then, since you would also need to finance my
university education!"

"Oh really?" David grimaced, taking a breath wondering what he was going to
say.

"Because," continued Mac relentlessly, "I have decided, David, that you are
not fit to be left alone too long. You need me to take you in hand. You
will become a responsible parent-like figure --"

David interrupted, "But I'm already a parent --"

"I said a RESPONSIBLE parent."

"Oh."

"As I was saying -- a responsible parent. Okay -- father to two boys. You
will refrain from ripping all your clothes off in front of the school,
refrain from having sex with the entire audience at erotic fairs, stop
starring in a world-wide-multi-billion-dollar porn industry epics, and
generally settle down to a normal boring life."

"Hmm," said David, pondering, "and what is in this arrangement for me --
apart from years of expense and aggravation?"

"For this you get mostly, well me. You also get to stay in teaching and out
of jail." Mac paused here, seeming uncertain of himself. So far he had
carried this speech of almost perfectly. He had rehearsed it for weeks. He
stood up and moved towards David. He reached out one hand towards Reginald,
who dropped something into it. He looked David straight in the eye. "David,
if you agree to all this, I have only one question."

"Okay."

"Do you agree?"

"Yes," it was said simply but the emotion behind the word was palpable.

"David Jones," Mac said almost formally as he dropped down onto one knee,
"as soon as we can possibly arrange it, either now or when I'm sixteen, or
when I'm eighteen -- whenever -- will you marry me?" He finished with eyes
brimming almost holding his breath in fear.

To say it was the most unexpected thing he could have said was to put it
mildly. David did remember that moment in the cage under the torture
chamber when Mac had said they could go to Canada and be legally married,
but he thought it was just because they were both expecting to be enslaved
forever or to die there.

David looked around at the others. There was not a dry eye to be
seen. Reginald's head nodded almost imperceptibly. He knew he needed this,
he knew he wanted it. God, how he wanted it. Thoughts of divorce from Alice
did not bother him, impediments because of Mac's minority status were not
problem. Sometime, some day.  "Yes," said David.  Mac closed his eyes and
exhaled in relief, then bent forward and kissed David on the lips. Then he
did another completely unexpected thing. He leaned forward and took David's
cock into his mouth and swallowed it whole! Everyone stared transfixed, but
before anyone could react, Mac withdrew leaving David's cock slick and
shining. He took something from his hand and slid a solid golden ring onto
David's cock! Most cock rings encircle the cock and the balls, but this
cock ring was really more of a 'dick ring' it was designed only to go
around the cock itself. Mac pushed it all the way down. It looked nice. He
handed David it's twin.

David performed the same simple ceremony on Mac's black and ponderous
cock. They both stood and embraced, their cocks touching now encircled by
the symbol of their bondage of love. The others all stood around them and
embraced the pair of them. All thoughts of the trials and tribulations to
come, the press scrums, the court testimonies, the investigations into
their own possible criminal liabilities -- all these things were for the
moment, forgotten.

"I think," said David, "this is going to be a very interesting marriage."


THE END.