Date: Sun, 7 Nov 2010 10:21:08 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: PLaY FoR PaY 09

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,
of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages,
neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy
sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not
read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most
states 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.

PLaY FoR PaY 09
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Oh what a shame," Miguel speaks like he's talking to a four year old,
except holding Steve's head of sweaty hair in his fist, because Steve is
too fatigued to keep his own head up, "Stevie have enough play for now?"

For good measure, Miguel's right fist delivered another punch to Steve's
midsection, in response Steve eliciting a slight moan. After all, taking
several punches to the gut, a number of knees to the balls and two or three
punches again to the stomach, was enough to cause any man to pass out.

"So, what do you have to report Miguel?" Davide Rivera asks, upon
returning.

"Nada," he came back with immediately. In reality Miguel never let up on
the punishing blows to Steve's bod look enough to deliver any type of
questioning, doing the interrogating with his fists and knee.

"I see," Davide replies. Standing there right in front of the bondage setup
he could hear the lisps of Steve's breathing, see his rib cage breathe in
and out. "See what you can do to bring him around and then keep on the
questioning."

It was said in Spanish, words which would be pleasing to Davide's ears, but
for Miguel, his form of interrogation was not to Davide's thinking. Rather
than interrogation, Miguel's form of coercion was more along the lines as
punishment, uncaring if he received information, but rather to satiate his
fetish of causing a man pain, the method of doing it and the sounds in
causing the excruciating effect.

"Now we move into phase two, hombre!" He laughed, cracking his knuckles.
Instead of continuing the beating, he began to untie Steve, first with
loosening up his ankles.

First Steve's left leg swung towards the middle. Then Miguel licked his
lips and salivated a bit, holding Steve's other ankle. Regardless of
Steve's composition right now, he would be getting a reaction and Miguel
was not deprived, letting Steve's other leg go.

"Oh-h-h-h-h!" Steve lifted his chin from his chest, dropped his head back,
feeling his balls sandwiched between his legs, only to drop his bearded
shadow back to his hairy chest and moan in pain.

"Bueno!" Miguel exclaimed excitedly, realizing Steve hadn't succumbed to
the eighteen or twenty slow gut punches, nor the six or seven punishing
knees to his balls.

Coughing, breathing like he had just run a marathon, Steve wondered 'what
next?' as Miguel proceeded in his plan, hooking two chains from the ceiling
onto eyehooks embedded in each end of the pole running the length of
Steve's outstretched arms. Given the gut punch or the knee to his balls,
Steve wasn't given much time to think. However, in this moment of
transition, rather forgoing anymore excruciating torture, he would tell his
tormentor anything he needed to know, even if it meant lying to save
himself. "Wait!" he made it seem like he was ready to talk. "I'll tell you
anything you want to know."

With the chains attached, Miguel put a halt to the winch, saying, "That's
more like it," as he bent over to clear the pole and Steve's arm. "So,
you've got some names for me?"

Choice men he was saving for himself, he gave up the names, "Two students
were right there while Jose was being worked over, um..." Steve knew he was
implicating the two, didn't give shit if it saved himself, "Wali
Boodani..."

"How do you spell that?"

"Fuck if I know," Steve replies. "Just go with how it's said, and Hans
Baasch."

Miguel writes down Hans' name and like Boudouani, goes with how Steve
pronounces it, asking, "Anybody else?"

Very tempting, Steve thought, of how nice it would to have John Stahl out
of the way and that 'other' gay coach, Mike Brat. Recalling last year, Brat
wasn't too cooperative in their 'Play for Pay' 'program'. So, with a bit of
feeling elated he released the names with explanation, "Two coaches were
there to see your poor nephew..."

"Not my nephew," Miguel replies, "but my cousin," and with pencil in hand,
"but go ahead."

Steve fingers the two gay coaches, making sure Miguel gets the spelling
correct.

With relief on his own part, Steve asks, "You got your names, so you can
let me go now!"

Short-lived was his excitement of being let go scott-free, Miguel putting
the paper and pencil in his pocket, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his
pants and unzipping, "That does not mean we are finished with your
interrogation."

"But I gave you four names."

"And until we have those four in custody and done some interrogation,"
Miguel stood there after taking his pants off and doing all he could do to
hold the contents of his briefs in his hand, "I'll do all I can do to keep
you entertained, Steve." As Steve cursed him out, Miguel stripped the last
piece of clothing off his bod. Purposely he came by Steve, ducking under
the pole, so Steve could visualize his larger-than-life anatomy.

All this time Steve is cursing, throwing every vulgar word in the book at
Miguel, but suddenly silences himself, saying, "What the fuck?" when the
top part of the pole jingles its chains, it slowly lowering Steve's
arms. He had no recourse but to have his legs pushed behind him. The pole
was too heavy and awkward to hold upright.

"There! That should do it!" Miguel said.

Fearing for the worst, Steve asks anyway, "What the hell you gonna do?"

His worst case scenario began coming true when Miguel picks his legs up,
carves his arms around Steve's thighs as he moves forward, him coming at
Steve, right up the middle!

%

"Let's not talk about that shall we?" John requests.

"Okay." Then sitting there in silence, Jac asks, "You don't think I'm
trying to get rid of you or anything?"

"Just take in the scenery?"

"Okay," Jac replies. Instead of looking out the window, he stare across the
way at John.

"See? That's what you get for not doing what I say?"

"What?" Jac questions him.

"Mike and Rick. They just passed us up!"

"I saw them!"

"No you didn't!" Because John knew why, "You were too busy looking at my
dick!"

Then a hullabaloo got started, Jac adding protest to John's accusation, all
the way to the ferry where they met up with their speedy friends.

%

As Miguel was enjoying the nice, soft, juicy, warm haven for his cock, Rick
trying to wiggle out of literally getting fucked, the door to the basement
opened, six 'suits' entering with their rubber-hooded bounty.

They didn't even need to pull the hoods off. From the looks of the two
tall, muscular men in their basketball shorts and tank tops, Miguel knew he
was in store for double the pleasure, maybe even more, than he had had
torturing Steve. Too, at the sight of the two jocks, Miguel suddenly lost
interest in the prey he was deeply embedded in, pulling out.

"C'mon. Let's see what we've got," Miguel said, approaching the band of
aggressors.

One of them removes a mask, revealing Hans Baasch. Miguel had already been
checking the other one out, figuring it Wali Boudouani, simply for the fact
of the deeper shaded skin. Too, while nearer to Wali, Miguel took the
liberty of lifting the tank top and seeing what he had to work with.

However, before anything transpired, the two, protesting, were brought
before Steve.

Wali brazenly asks, "Steve, what the fuck happened to you?"

"Yeah Steve," Hans too addresses, "you look a fuckin' mess!"

Not much in a mood for conversation, the two college students not there for
tea time, Miguel asks Steve, "These the two you were talking about?"

Only to save himself anymore grief, without hesitation, Steve tells,
"That's them. They're the ones who tortured your Jose!"

Wali is first to react, "Us? Torture Jose? We don't even know a 'Jose'!"

The six men were on the two already, dragging them off. The two jocks
didn't have much power, hands being secured behind their backs, with the
ability to only thrash about.

Miguel is about to give direction, when Davide walks in.

"I might find some pleasure in helping you deal with these two?" He tells
Miguel.

"Just like in olden days, but you know what?" Miguel asks Davide, a cordial
hand to his arm.

"What?"

"I thought it might be quite entertaining to release one of them and let
the men have their go at him, six on one?"

Davide reacts with a smile, "Yes and video it so we can jerk off to it
later? Yes, it would be entertaining to see the Arab try to take on the
men."

Showing the time-out 'T' with his hands, Miguel replies, "I thought I'd
save him for later and have them work over the German?"

But then one of the men, Hector, comes over and sheepishly says, "Excuse me
sir, but we've got a little problem here."

"Problem?" Davide returns.

"Uh, yeah," and almost afraid to say so, "Jose, he was roughed up a couple
of semesters ago, right?"

Hector got the affirmative. "Well these boys are freshmen at the
college. Seems, at the time Jose was being tortured, these two were in
their home countries."

"Wha-a-at?" Davide exclaims, his eyes falling immediately on Steve, still
trussed up in his bonds, in ramming position. As he walks towards Steve,
he's commanding Migurel, "Get him up!"

Hector follows and as Miguel hoists Steve's bod up, Davide drives his big
fist into Steve's balls. The loud, unpleasant sound Steve responds, fills
the hall, Hector awarding, "Nice one Davide!"

Coy, Davide says to Hector, "I bet you can do better!"

Too, in between the pangs of pain, Steve is in protest, "No! No! No-o-o!"

Doing what he's told, with pleasure, Hector scrunches his midsection some
to get leverage and throws an energy-packed fist into Steve's balls.

From around the other side, Davide complains, "Hey, that's my job!"

"Your job?" Davide says, snapping his fingers, two of the other men come
forward. "Your job was to get names and you've screwed up 'your job'!"

Miguel suddenly feels the pressure, the two men circling around silently
till they are standing at either side of the thirty-six year old.

After smashing Steve's balls, alternating with his gut, five or six times,
Davide says, "Hector you want to quit it a minute."

Hector withdraws the fist he had planned for another assault to Steve's
pubes. "Huh?"

"It's a little noisy in here?"

Steve had pretty much had it. Profusely sweating, his head of hair and hair
on his chest and stomach, as well as pubes, dripped of perspiration. It
looked more like he were in the shower. As Hector stood there waiting, he
took the liberty of running his hand down the small of Steve's back,
slipped it easily in his crevice and checked out what he had to work with.

Meanwhile, Wali and Hans had been tied to vertical posts and watched as
conversation took place between the head boss and the Latino.

"What do you mean?" Miguel countered Davide's explanation.

"Seems we don't rightly need Steve's confession because I received an
interesting phone call from an 'Edison Rodriquez'?" Davide waited to see if
Miguel recognized the name.

"No relation to me," Miguel says. But he did show signs of some kind of
connection.

Too, Miguel didn't have to confess to Davide. From Edison's conversation,
it put Davide in the same room as Jose, at the time he was being beaten and
tortured by a group of men.

Davide's next question was, "So Miguel, who were the other men in the room
when Jose was being tortured?"

"Me?" He acts surprised. "Me torture Jose? How can that be? Jose is my
nephew!"

Smiling, Davide really said it for the benefit of the crowd around them,
"Now come on Miguel. You know you're not legally Jose's uncle."

He then tried to wiggle his way out of why he was there on the night Jose
was tortured, at least opening up to tell part of the truth.

But it backfired on him, Davide gesturing to the two men, saying, "Ah,
we're getting someplace. If you were 'there', then you can tell me the
names of the others who were with you!"

%

Two hours later the entourage was pulling up at a rather elegant layout of
sandy property, more than a beach bungalow atop.

"This is it?" Jac asks, looking through the dashboard window, shading the
afternoon glare with his hand even though he was wearing shades.

John asks as he cracks the door, "Were you expecting the Taj Mahal?"

Mike was already out of the car, Rick following him, the cart load of team
members in hot pursuit behind, as they veered off towards the three floor,
cement and wooden dwelling.

"Mike has a key?" Jac asks, he and John the only two left out by the
vehicles.

"I let him shack up here while he found a place to stay, when he got into
town."

"You're such a nice guy," Jac tells him.

John asks, "Now are you saying that because I give good head?"

"You want it up the ass?"

Like a puppy dog lapping up its food, "Yeah... yeah...yeah...."

John gets bopped in the ass with Jac's hand. "There! Satisfied?"

"I guess it's better than a dog bone!"

Dogs were forgotten about, the two entering the gate. Set before them was
the biggest swimming pool, a beautiful blue hue.

Jac whistles and then with approval, "Very nice!"

"The idea of the fence," which John points out the high wall all around,
"is so we can go skinny-dipping!"

"Fence?" Jac questions, "I think it helps there isn't another house within
a mile?"

"That does help." John says, "I've sat out on the third floor balcony
without a stitch of clothes on."

"Doesn't somebody honk, coming down the road?"

"Private road?"

"Oh yeah. Forgot."

As they are standing there, the gate opens behind them, a guy saying, "I'm
here to do the pool Mr. Stahl."

Wondering if this is 'the guy' John talked about on the way here, he
introduces, "Jac, this is Declan Walsh."

Right away Declan gravitates to Jac and very properly, extends a hand,
"Hi. Nice to meet you." John taught him that. Before Declan came to work
for John he didn't even know to say 'please' and 'thank you'!

Jac shakes his hand, casting off a smile in return.

Declan turns to John and says, "Sorry, I didn't know you were going to be
here."

"No problem, Declan."

"Uh yeah, could be a problem, because I told my brother he could come and
use the pool for the weekend. But I swear he wouldn't be a problem because
he's working on a research paper."

Jac wondered if Declan got all that in in one breath. He sure was cute,
almost matching his height. As the trio walked into the house, Jac was
praying the whole time, "God, I hope he's not straight... I hope he's not
straight.... I hope he's not straight!"

%

They were tied to these two poles, ropes tightly bound around Wali's and
Hans' wrists, then circling the posts. They could tilt left or right, but
as far as any other mobility, nothing. An indication of their bonds being
tightly secure, was the absence of those guarding them. Leaving the two
college jocks, they had walked over to where some of the others were
already in confrontation with Miguel. Given the go ahead, it was like
vultures drawn to the carcass of an animal. With allegiance only to Davide,
two held Miguel while a third gave him three good, hefty punches in the
stomach. The two holding him let him go, Miguel holding his stomach and
falling to the ground.

Two more who had been observing, came over, one grabbing Miguel up in a
full nelson. The other says, "I like to see what I'm doing."

He was wearing a tie, but Miguel's assailant tore open the middle of the
shirt, to bare skin, showing Miguel's hairy stomach. Already it had a red
tint to it.

Saying something in Spanish, the one holding Miguel in the full nelson,
beefed up the holding power and as he did, came the hard punch in the
stomach.

A loud belch could be heard as Miguel exhaled after the force of the first,
then second fist tucked in his gut.

Visibly, it could be scene, Davide rubbing his zipper area as he stopped
them to say, "Can we get a little creative?"

Used to being the aggressor, Miguel couldn't take much and five punches in
the stomach later he was on the floor. However, by getting creative, it
meant stripping off all of Miguel's clothes, of which the men were not at
all concerned with tearing or ripping. After he was completely stripped one
of the men tied Miguel's own tie around his balls, some rope around his
wrists behind his back. He was led across the room by leashed balls.

"Daymn! I'm glad that's not us!" Hans says.

More concerned, Wali says, "I wonder what they're going to do to us?"

Thrown back to Hans, he tells his jock bud, "Hey, we didn't do anything
wrong."

Davide must've heard them talking, saying, "And now what do we do with you
two?"

Smartly Wali comes up with more or less the old adage, 'if you can't
beat'em, join'em!', "If you need any help, Hans and me here can give you a
hand?"

Standing there a minute, one arm across his middle, his right elbow sitting
in his left hand, his finger play with his stache while he thought.

Both had arms behind their backs, so Hans had to cover for the visual,
"Yeah, we've got big hands to squeeze balls with!" And as if he had his
hand in front of him to demonstrate, "Grab up a set of sacks and crush them
with one hand!"

"I like your style," is all Davide said, making no effort to release them.

"At least you tried, "Wali says.

Hans giggles.

"What?"

Hans tells, "I think I started to get a hardon, thinking about squeezing
Miguel's balls!"

%

 Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

`PLaY FoR PaY' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without
prior consent from the author.

The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP.....