Date: Tue, 30 Oct 2007 13:38:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Friendly Persuasion 06

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"Friendly Persuasion" 06
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"One down, one to go!"

Cutting Jase loose, Rob pulled him up to standing
position, forgetting about the cuffs at Jase's ankles.


Squinting his eyes, Jase moaned in pain.

"Oops!" Rob said, a smile adorning his lips. "Almost
forgot," talking about the metal cuffs. Then, stepping
on the bottom rung, he broke if off. "Fuck the chair,"
he commented, easily slipping the ringed cuffs off of
the legs. With duct tape stuck to the front of Jase's
tee shirt, Rob held the eighteen year olds arms behind
his back, forcing him to walk through the hallway, the
cuffs at his feet banging on the floor, as if
shackles. In a rather weak condition, after having
been initially gut-punched, then subdued, fighting his
bondage, then the heavy slap to his face, not to
mention his balls being mashed, Jase had little fight
left in him.

"Eynon?" He questioned, softly. Down in the recesses
of the basement, after walking through another metal
door, the teen's head cocked to the side, as Rob
pushed the teen over towards a large bondage device,
two planks of wood crossing each other, forming an
`X'. As would be his predicament, Eynon, drugged and
stripped down to the buff, hung there by his arms,
legs as well fastened to a different `X', almost next
to where Rob positioned Jase's bod.

Making quick work of it, experienced with binding a
guy to the frame, Rob made light work of fastening
leather cuffs to each of Jase's wrists, spreading them
out wide. He `fucked it', when he discovered he didn't
have the keys for the cuffs, likewise fastening the
leather ankle cuffs, already attached to the wooden
frame. With his bare hands, he tore the duct-taped tee
shirt, already ripped at the shoulder, from Jase's
bod. With a knife, he cut up each pants leg, to the
beltline. Unbuckling Jase's belt, he tore it from the
loops, commenting, "Hmm... nice quality. Could come in
handy," as he took the leather accessory, stretched it
out and ran it down Jase's pecs, intentionally
massaging the teens perky nips.

Not saying a word, Jase turned his head, watching Rob,
as he did the same thing to Eynon, using his own belt.


%

"That road's a real bitch, you know?" Matt informs
Scott of something already known.

As Scott and Tris climbed out of the 4x4, Matt pulled
up in his patrol car, followed by Juan's bright red
BMW, dulled by the darkness of the evening.

"So you've said for the last ten times you were here?"
Scott remarks.

"Um, fourteen?" Matt corrects him.

Out of Tris' mouth comes, "I thought a master was
always right?"

"Ten lashes for your insolence, boy," Scott drifted
back to the roleplaying, directing the act of corporal
punishment towards Matt.

"Only ten?" Matt replies.

"Twenty-five. You happy now?"

Matt just stood there, smiling.

"Nice place," Troy says of the old, dilapidated
mansion, shutters falling apart, gardens obviously
unattended to, a pool with a statue in the middle,
water looking like muck.

However, Scott's mind wasn't on Troy, as Juan stepped
up to the front, asking, "So, when do we get to try
out that dungeon?" his hand at his crotch, rubbing it,
with anticipation.

"Right this way, slaveboy!"

Walking in the front door, Scott heard nothing but
silence. "Anybody for a beer before we start having
some fun?"

He had orders from the four, whom followed him right
into the kitchen.

"Messy place," Troy stated.

"Looks worse than the outside," Tris said of the
untidiness.

However, seeing the busted up chair,  feeling the
remnants of duct tape still clinging to its frame,
rungs broken, the utensil drawer on the floor, stuff
scattered all over the place, drew alarm to Scott, as
he says, "Wait here," quickly vacating the kitchen.
Cautiously, he opened the door, dividing reality from
the underground world of fantasy. Not hearing
anything, Scott slowly walked down the wooden stairs.
Lighted, he could almost swear something was going on
in the dungeon. Slowly opening the door to the chamber
of torture, careful not to open it more than needed to
slip in, he plastered his back to the wall. From
across the room he could hear talking, as if two guys
carryied on a normal conversation, one being his
father. He wasn't positive, but he thought the other
was that of Jason, though he sounded a little off key.


Bending down on all fours, he crawled along behind a
row of bondage tables, til he could peer between two
pieces of the black furniture. To himself he gasped,
thinking `What tha fuck?' upon viewing his brother,
cuffed to `X' frame, eagle-spread, his step-father
dishing out words, a strap in his hand. Periodically,
as the two exchanged words, the strap would fly
through the air, Jase screaming out in pain as it
crossed his chest. The sound of pain drove Scott on,
to get a closer viewing of the torturous scene. From
his new vantage point, he could hear quite clearly.

"You never loved Scott and I... admit it, `Rob'," Jase
exchanged the greeting from the endearing to just
another guy. "Why the fuck...akkkkkkkkkkkkk!"

When the strap landed across Jase's pecs, it made
Scott shiver. Sure, he's whipped another guy, but it
was all part of a game; part of a mutual agreement to
live out a fantasy.

"The one thing I regret when your mother left me. She
didn't take you two bastards with her!"

"What tha?" Scott said, this time audible, as he
lifted himself up from the doggie position.

"Oh Scott.. didn't hear you come in, son" Rob said,
his disposition turning sweet, but also aware of being
overheard.

As Scott seemingly walked from the entrance, he
exchanged glances between poor Jason and Rob, til he
asked, "What the fuck is this?"

If it was a punishing session it might be plausible,
as punishment went, a strap applied to the back. Faced
forward, the same welts formed over the teen's chest
showing some nasty welts, dried blood on his brother's
left ankle, grisly details portraying a more alarming
situation here.

"Scott?" Jase softly called out, his head falling to
his chest, where he just lifted it from.
Lifting again, with a scratchy sound coming from his
throat, "Help.. .me..."

Walking up to Rob, Scott stood `in his face', inches
from the man he referred to as `dad', a scrowl of a
look on his face.

Right away Rob made excuse, "He was sassin' me around.
You know he's done it before, Scott. I had to show the
boy in his place. Show him some respect."

"And kill him at the same time?" Scott said boldly.

"Ohhhhhh my head," Both heard, from the `X' frame,
next to Jase.

Drawing his attention, Scott turns his head, looking
in Eynon's direction.

Seeing the minutes `numbered', Rob panics, throwing
his fist into Scott's stomach.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhh!" Scott belches out, dropping to his
knees, moaning.

 Fast, before Scott can get the upper hand, Rob begins
pelting the twenty year old with Jase's belt, lashing
his shirted back over and over. Crying out in pain,
Scott scrambles across the floor, his step-father
right on his tail. Finding temporary sanctuary behind
a bondage table, Scott ducks down low, catching up on
his strained breathing. It becomes a game of search
and find, the thirty-eight year old hunter, wielding a
leather strap of pain, Scott being the hunted.

%

"I wonder what's taking Scott?" Tris questions,
peering out of the kitchen doorway, into the gloomy,
almost gray room, it's only light, the one coming from
over the teen's shoulder.

Matt has taken the liberty of assembling a ham and
cheese sandwich, wetting it down with his second beer.


"If you ask me," Troy questions the situation, "I
sense something weird happening here."

"Ya think?" Tris says, sarcastically, venturing
further from the kitchen.

Juan badgers Troy, "You gonna let that little punk
sass you around?"

"For now," Troy says, more interested in following
along behind as if using Tris for a shield, walking
the dark hallway as Juan stays on Troy's heels. "Um,
you coming?" Troy questions Matt, just as he is about
to chomp out a section of his sandwich.

"Sure. Let me just..."

Two things inspired Matt to drop what he was doing;
Troy's stare and the whole being which encompassed the
nineteen year old. Matt was taken in by his blond,
bushy hair, the blond forearms seemingly shimmering
from the light, everything which encompassed the build
of the handsome teen. "Um, never mind," he takes a sip
of beer, leaving the sandwich behind. "I can pick up
where I left off, later."

After brushing his hands of the floured roll, he
hastens to catch up to Troy, on his way to seek out
Juan and Tris. The trio nears the open door,
immediately hearing yelps and shoutings of profanity,
intermingled with loud sentences.

"And you know where this leads?" Matt questioned the
two, brushing by them to take up the front line.

Even though the unknown lay ahead Juan feels a tingle
in his loins when Troy, from behind, answers, "The
dungeon?"

"Bright lad," Matt answers.

"Sounds like Scott's voice," Tris says, volunteering
the first step down the stairs.

Listening at the door to the inner sanctum of the
torture chamber, there is silence, followed by a
choking sound.

"Oh shit!" Tris gasps as he sees father and son
struggling, some guy behind Scott, utilizing a belt
around his neck to choke the living daylights out of
him.

Before Rob Friend can even register any sense of the
trio descending upon the scene, Tris is bounding
across the floor, his hand already forming the grip of
his fingers, spotting the point he intends on
impacting. Rob friend moaned, as Tris' fist to his
lower back seemed to only stun. A hand swung away,
managed to send Tris reeling backwards, slapping his
whole bod against Eynon, affixed to the wooden beams.

"Oops! Sorry," Tris says, falling backwards on his
hands, as the back of his head having targeted Eynon's
pubes.

Meanwhile, Juan has already egged Troy on, to go at
the strangler. Having more luck, the nineteen year old
packs all he has into a heftier punch, following Tris'
lead, pounding at Rob's back.

"Oh shit!" Troy calls out, as Rob loses his grip on
Scott and turns on the blond. Then with an act of
desperation, he yells, "Uh Juan, you want to do
something here?"

Rather than get involved in the fracas, Juan tends to
Scott. Recovering from his backwards fall, Tris is
back in action, running, leaping for Rob's throat,
hanging on as he grabs him around the waist with his
legs. Still on guard, Rob kicks his foot up, catching
Troy between the legs. Keeping his hold on Rob, Tris
rides him around, as Matt is trying like hell to find
to find an open spot to mortally attack and wound. The
one in pursuit becomes the pursued, as Rob's fist
connects with Matt's jaw.

As he falls back against one of the tables Matt's hand
swipes across his jaw, producing red.
"Nobody fuckin' assaults a cop and gets away with it!"
Now, with a charge of adrenaline kicking in, Matt is
in high pursuit. From playing horse to the seventeen
year olds grip around throat and waist, has taken some
of the drive out of Rob. Managing to back up harshly
against a wall of the cinderblock basement, frees up
his back, at Tris' expense.

"Oh shit!" Troy yells, Bouncing back from his stunned
condition.

"Arrrrrgh!" Troy pleads, as Rob corners him, hands
going around the college jock's throat.

"What tha fuck?" Rob says, surprised when a handcuff
is thrown around one wrist, breaking his hold on Troy.


Forcing him to lose his grip on Troy's vocal cords,
Rob fights Matt as Scott join forces, helping to round
up two wrists around Rob's back, joining the second
link of each cuff.

"You're in fucking trouble, young man!" Rob slings his
worthless opinion at Scott.

"I don't think you're in any position to deal out the
orders, `dad'," Scott tells him.

By now, Juan has released Eynon, working on taking
Jase down from his bondage. For now, it's a standstill
situation, Scott, Eynon, Troy and Tris, forming a
circle around Rob.

"Are we having a problem here?"

>From the sidelines, a monster of a man appears, decked
out in leather, a harness decorating his massive pecs
and taut abs.

"Uncle Blake!" Scott calls out, breaking the monotony
of silence.

Following, Rob yells out, "Just in time, Blake. Round
these hooligans up!"

All of them, including Rob, watch as the six foot,
three inch man cowers his head to dodge the rafters of
the basement ceiling, walking right past the circle to
the figure on the `X'.

"You alright son?" Blake gently utters to Jase, going
for the upper left cuff, seeing Juan having trouble
reaching.

"I.... I'm hurting... pretty bad," Jase replies.

"I can see why," Blake assesses the situation, looking
upon Jason's chest, surveying each welt crisscrossing
his bod. Grabbing Jase under his arms, Blake
effortlessly helps his nephew to a bondage table, Juan
in tow.

Before Blake even turns around, he hears Rob say, "The
boy had it coming, Blake. Y'know how teenagers can be,
shooting their mouths off, disrespecting their
elders..."

Doing a three hundred and sixty degree turn, Blake
turns to Rob, enveloping him in his shadow, as he
towers over the thirty-eight year old. With a bit more
ease, Blake first cues Scott in, "Scott, you and your
friends get your brother and get out of here."

"Ah, yeah... sure Uncle Blake," Scott replies, tapping
Tris on the arm, to help.

Matt, Troy, Tris, and Juan stand there taking in the
drama as it unfolds, as Eynon and Scott look over
Jase. "I hurt so bad," Jase communicates.

Stripping off his tee shirt, Tris offers, "Here,"
shrugging his shoulders, saying, "will this help any?"

Scott cracks a brief smile, as Tris places it in his
hands, as Scott makes a well to receive it.

"Be r-r-r-right back," Matt says, as he puts on his
police office stance, walking back to where Blake
stands with his `prisoner'. "I'm not on duty, but this
doesn't mean charges can't be pressed for," making up
his own misdemeanors, "endangering the welfare of a
child, assault..."

Turning his head to Matt, the look on Blake's face is
all the fear needed to cause Matt to back off, as he
says, "Listen up.... you're gonna go about minding
your own business and forget about what happened here
tonight. Got it?"

After gulping down the little spit he had in his
mouth, Matt casually replies, "Um... yeah... sure... I
got it." With haste he scurries off to where Jase is
receiving all the attention.

Then composing himself, as if he is the master and Rob
his slave, Blake interjects, "Seems to me you had your
chance at raising these boys. Maybe it's time for me
to make a go of it?"

The first words out of Rob's mouth cost him a fist to
the jaw, sending him reeling to the side, falling to
his knees.

"Yeah," Blake's disposition changed from anger to what
would constitute roleplaying for Scott, but his
intentions had been more of a serious nature. "just
the way I like my boys to service me!" Along with the
harrassing words, Blake unleashes his pent up
emotions, tearing open the snaps of his chaps.

"Ai caramba!" Juan calls out, seeing from a distance,
Blake's piece in his hand, stroking.

"Twelve inches," is all Scott needed to give a hint to
the others of the proportions of Blake's shaft. Seeing
a look on Tris' face, Scott explains, "Let's just say
Jase and I had more reason to hang out at Uncle
Blake's house than here, in this dump."

Standing over near Blake, Matt, Troy and Juan weren't
chased away this time, but rather encouraged to look
on as Blake said, "Ever see a guy swallow cock?"

As Matt and Juan stood there, salivating, Troy became
too aroused to be contented with stroking his cock
through his jeans, his hand instead down the front.
This wasn't totally oblivious to Blake, who was
getting turned on by the attention, plus making his
own list of who's who; top or sub. However, he dwelled
more on watching the college age `top' stroking his
meat. The three already voiced their opinion, but now
Blake had attention drawn to Troy, as he stared at the
teen's zipper area. "Yep, nothing like the feel of a
cock surrounded by a hot throat, pumping in and out."

"Huh?" Troy questioned, realizing Blake's inference.

His broad hand on Troy's shoulder, Blake questions,
"How about we team up... take him at both ends?"

Troy wasn't getting it, his hand freezing around his
hidden barrel.

Coming out of his short, stunned phase, Rob slowly put
two and two together, getting the gist of Blake's
idea. "I ain't suckin' nobodys cock, so get that
through your head."

"I guess that puts an end to that idea," Juan says, a
tinge of his Spanish accent coloring his words.

With actions speaking louder than words, Blake pulls
Rob up to his feet in one swoop, one hand taking the
chain link of the cuffs, in his left hand, his right
first plowing into Rob's abs.

"Shit!" Matt calls out, seeing Blake perform his own
act of justice on the thirty-eight year old.

"You'll do as your told, boy!" Blake barks at Rob.
Letting Rob crumble into a heap on the floor, Blake
approaches Scott, Eynon and Jase, still laid out on
the bondage table. "Take your friends and head on over
to my place," Blake dictates, producing a key.

"Ohhhhh," Troy lets out a soft whimper.

With a toothy smile on his lips, Blake says, "except
this one here," he makes the exception of Troy, who
seems to perk up.

As Eynon and the others help Jason up off the table,
Scott taps Troy on the elbow, as they watch Blake once
again return to his prize. "Blake's the best."

"Huh?" Troy questions Scott's motives.

"He taught me how to throat a guy when I was in high
school." Groping Troy's crotch, Scott assure him,
"You're gonna love it, man!"

%

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.