Date: Mon, 19 Dec 2005 21:18:19 -0800 (PST)
From: survivalgame <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Out In The Wild, Wild West" 22

The following story is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in 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. This is fiction. Do not forget, in
real life, to think about 'sexual safety matter'; got
condom?

"Out In The Wild, Wild West" 22
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Don't move!"

"What's the matter, Jim?"

"Something's not right."

"What do you mean, Jim? I feel alright."

"Johnny, I want you to go to the closet over there and
stand inside."

"But, Jim..."

"Stand inside, then crouch down. To the right you will
find a lever. Pull it and keep low. Don't get up."

"But, Jim..."

"Do it, Johnny... don't ask questions."

"Alright, Jim."

As Johnny went for the closet, he opened the door,
looking back at Jim.

"I'll be fine. Do it."

Johnny sensed danger, as soon as Jim reached in his
boot, standing near the bed, taking out a small
derringer, that fit compactly into his hand.

"Do it, Johnny!"

"Be careful, Jim," Johnny said, walking into the
closet. He crouched down. Feeling along the floor, he
found the handle Jim talked about. Lifting it up, the
door closed behind him. With the handle falling back
into place, the whole closet seemed to move, yet he
stayed low to the ground, as Jim instructed. He began
to get dizzy, as the whole closet seemed to move
downwards, yet he kept low. After about five minutes,
it came to a stop. The door behind him opened. He then
sensed it safe to stand. As he did, the door opened
wider. Stepping from within, he shivered. Still
totally naked, he walked out.

"Oh shit!" He shouted out, when the room automatically
lit up, all on it's own.

Looking at the light, a strange look came over his
face. `How did it do that?' Johnny questioned. Hearing
another noise, the door he came out of, closed. After
hearing a rumbling and sensing some minutes passing,
it opened again.

"Jim!"

"Are you alright, Johnny?"

"Am I? Are you, Jim?" He quizzed, throwing his arms
around Jim, hugging him tightly.

As Jim acknowledged him, Johnny became startled,
seeing a figure move behind Jim.

"Don't be sacred, Johnny. Meet Marc Taylor. Marc, this
is Johnny."

"Hmm... `very' happy to meet you, Johnny!"

Jim smiled along with Marc, eyeing both of the nude
men up and down, but especially focusing his attention
on the younger one.

Forgetting about his nakedness, Johnny asks, "So what
is happening?"

"I'm afraid we have a problem on our hands. I'm going
to have to leave you for awhile, Johnny."

"Can I come with you? You know, like my first case?"

"First case?" Marc quizzes Jim, still summing up
Johnny's hot body.

However, Jim, declines Johnny's request, telling him,
"You need to stay here and in this room. It's a bit
nippy, but you'll find some clothes in that other
closet."

"When are you coming back, Jim?"

"I'm not sure. We have a tip that two of our agents
have been kidnapped and no telling how long it will
tell to locate them and rescue them, that is if that
is at all possible."

"I'm sorry, Jim," Johnny says, rubbing Jim's hairy
forearms.

"Ahem!" Marc Taylor clears his throat. "Um, I think
I'll wait up top for you, Jim."

Waiting till the `magic' door closes, Jim and Johnny
watch it shut.

"What happens if you don't come back, Jim?"

"Oh, I'll be back," Jim certifies it. Pawing Johnny's
locks out of his face, he adds, "if for any reason I'm
delayed, you can return to the bedroom, by moving the
lever in the opposite direction. However, wait for an
hour."

"This is going to be hell for me, you know?"

"Is it?"

Jim sensed the same, as the two began being drawn into
a kiss, agreeing to the wait as a mutual thing.

%

The carriage came to a stop on the outskirts of the
city. Halting at a rather large estate building, JJ
and Braedon had been forced from the carriage and
brought inside.  Hustled down a flight of stairs,
blindfolded, hands tied behind their backs, they had
been pushed through an opened door. Hearing it clang
shut behind them, they detected it being metal. Still
not being able to see, two men, one on each side of
them, hurried them across the room. Each then found
their hands being untied. In place of ropes, they felt
another means of bondage being fastened around each
wrist, by which buckles had been threaded, to keep the
bindings in place. Drawn above their heads, their
hands locked together, their human captors let them
loose. With the rattling of chains, JJ and Braedon
found their arms being stretched above their heads.

"Get the knives!" A voice rang out, which put a fear
into both men.

Tearing could be heard, as both sensed their jackets
being cut from their bodies. Their shirts soon
followed. They both sensed a chill in the room,
shivering, as their bare-chested bodies hung from
their arms. Soon they even lost their boots and socks,
their bare feet touching the stone floor. Both
struggled when they felt hands at their waist, their
belts unfastened, their pants unzipped and peeled
downwards. Talk filled the room as their boxer short
were removed.

"Oooh, the master is going to have a good time with
these two!"

"Bet they are going to be fun to train, too!"

After a bunch of laughing and hooting, the laughter
dwindled, followed by the voices. Soon JJ and Braedon
sensed they had been left alone.

"You alright, Brae?"

"Except for a dull ache in my crotch, yeah."

"Any idea where we are?"

"No. I can't even begin to guess who arranged this."

"I just hope our boys are okay."

"Yeah, you're right. I hope so too."

"Any chance of you breaking free, Brae?"

"I don't think so. Feels like leather around my wrists
and I can't get any leverage to unhook them. How `bout
you, JJ?"

"Same. What do you think that guy meant when he said
we're going to be `fun to train'?"

"I don't know, JJ, but it doesn't sound too good. I
just hope that somebody realizes we're missing and
sends out the calvary."

Braedon keeps it to himself about the prospects of the
knowledge of James West mentioning to him about the
rumors of a white slave ring. He hopes this isn't the
case with JJ and himself.

%

"So, what kind of a lead do we have on Murphy and
Sebastien?" Jim inquires of Marc Taylor, as he tucks
his shirt into his pants.

"Well, from the two boys that saw the commotion in the
alleyway, we tend to think the coach that kidnapped
them, headed out by way of the south side of town."

Placing one sock on his foot, Jim hobbled over to the
table, where Taylor had the map out on the table.

"We better get on it, Marc."

"I'm going to the bureau and round up some men, if you
can get on that lead, right away."

"I'm on it now, if you can see yourself out, Marc."

"Oh no you don't, Jim. Last time you left that up to
me, it took me three days to find my way out of this
house!"

%

Sean wrote on the top of his pad, `How do you like his
muscled arms?' and then passed it to Cal.

Smiling, Cal wrote back, `Very nice', then added,
`nice crotch, too'.

Agreeing, Sean drew a cucumber with a melon on each
side of it. Cal wrote next to it, `I agree'.

Sean then jotted down. `How old?'

Returning the pad, Cal answered, `27? 28?'

Giving Cal a soured look, he shook his head, writing,
'31 or 32!'

Cal shrugged his shoulders after reading it. Sean
folded the note pad up, when his watch showed the
class would be ending in five minutes.

"Mr. Murphy, may I see you a moment please?"

"Ah, I'll see you outside, Cal."

"You're not going to introduce me to your guest, Mr.
Murphy?"

"Um, sure. Professor Webster, this is Cal McClintock."

"Hmm... nice to meet you young man."

"Good to meet you, sir."

Austin Webster instantly liked Cal, hearing him answer
so courteously.

"Now, Mr. Murphy, may I see the notes you took today?"

"The notes, Professor Webster?"

"Yes. Regarding today's lecture that I noticed you and
your friend paying close attention to?"

"Um, well, I'd like to but we will have to hurry, to
be on time for my next class."

"Classes don't start for another half hour, Mr.
Murphy."

"Oh. Well, I thought I could show Cal around and..."

"The notes, Mr. Murphy. I'm waiting?"

Sean and Cal both knew what the ultimatum had been,
knew that Webster was on to them. Sean slowly worked
the notepad from his briefcase.

Some people began filtering into the lecture hall, so
Professor Webster advised them, "I will return this to
you later. You can stop by my office this evening at
five o'clock, Mr. Murphy."

"But..."

"Five o'clock, Mr. Murphy and make sure your friend is
with you?"

The two looked grim, leaving the lecture hall.

"What do you think is going to happen, Sean?"

"Oh, I can tell you what's going to happen, Cal. The
worst case scenario. Professor Webster is going to
find our drawings, report it to my big brother and
then I'm going to get holy hell from Braedon. But damn
it could be even worse!"

"What do you mean worse?"

"If he gets really angry, he could take the notepad to
the dean."

"Ugh, I see what you mean. You could get kicked out of
the college."

Walking to the next class, they found a note on the
door that class had been cancelled.

"That's good. I didn't feel like going anyway," Sean
said.

"Sean, I'm awfully sorry about all this and I want you
to know that I'm with you till... till whatever
happens," Cal told him, his hand on Sean's shoulder,
as he faced the downtrodden look on his face.

"Thanks, Cal. You're a good friend."

"Sean, I know I shouldn't be saying this, but I like
you a real lot."

"Why shouldn't you be saying something like that, Cal.
We're almost like brothers and if you and Brae get to
know each other real good, we could be seeing each
other all the time."

"Yeah, I thought about that."

"And?"

"Sean, I didn't know whether I should tell you this or
not."

"Tell me what, Cal?"

"Tell me you won't get angry."

"I wouldn't. What is it, Cal?"

"Well, last night while you and JJ slept and after
Brae fell asleep, after our sex, I woke up."

"Yeah, and?"

"I..."

"Go on, Cal. I told you I wasn't going to get angry at
you."

"Sean, I rubbed your back with my hand."

"So?"

"And then your lower back."

"So?"

"Sean, I felt your ass with my hand."

"Mmmm... wish I was awake for that!"

"But then I..."

"You mean it gets better?"

"Sean, would you stop it. I'm trying to be serious
here!"

"Alright, I'm serious. What else did you do?"

Sean decided to take a seat on a wooden bench, for
fear that others could detect the growth in his
crotch!

"Sean, I..."

"Will you spit out?"

"I leaned over and kissed your ass!"

Sean couldn't contain himself. He cackled away. Cal
tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but Sean's laughter
made him burst out, as well. That is until, from
above, Sean's notepad dropped in their laps. Suddenly
the two lost their sense of humor, as they stare at
the dreaded notepad.

With it came Professor Webster's deep voice, "I will
most definitely be seeing both of you boys in my
office, at five o'clock sharp! Not a minute late, or
there will be hell to pay. Mr. Murphy?"

Gulping, Sean replied, "You are in very serious
trouble. If you do not report today at five o'clock, I
can most guarantee your expelling from Washington
University!"

With that, they watched Professor Webster walk away.
Quickly, they paged through the notepad. The `notes'
from today's lecture were missing!

%

A draft could be felt, which JJ and Braedon sensed a
door opening and closing.

"Lower them," came the order. "Bind their ankles and
remove their blindfolds."

"Yes, sir."

JJ and Braedon could feel hands on their legs, as
their bodies shifted, lowering about a foot, as chains
rattled. They blinked their eyes rapidly, as the black
blindfolds became loosened and removed.

"Very nice," They heard, as JJ could feel a flat hand
race across his back, not seeing whom it belonged to.

For Braedon, he could see behind them. The prospects
looked mighty grim, as he saw the tall man, dressed in
black leather pants, black leather boots and toting a
wide, black leather strap, feel JJ's back from side to
side, up and down.

"Oh yes. This is going to make for nice sport!"

"What do you want?" Braedon asks.

Shifting his pacing behind JJ, the six foot, four
inch, two hundred and twenty-five pound man removes
his hand and stands behind Braedon, about four feet.

"First rule you will learn, is not to speak unless
directed to."

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Braedon cried out, as the long,
thick leather strap is hurled against his back, as he
lurched forwards.

Well knowing to keep silent, JJ shook when he saw and
heard Braedon cry out in pain. It hurt himself, to see
the lash land on his back, delivering the painful
stroke.

"Your insolence shall not go unpunished. Morgan, you
will deliver the punishment of ten strokes on this
slave's back."

"Yes, Sir."

For the first time, JJ looked upon the master, a
Hispanic man, standing at six feet, four inches tall,
dark hair covering both chest and stomach, with beefy
pecs and a paunchy stomach. A big man, but solid.

"You may being, Mr. Morgan."

JJ knew there wouldn't be anything he could do for his
friend, but to hang there by his arms and endure his
suffering along with him.

"Akkkkkkkkkk!" Braedon called out.

The leather strap wrapped around his body, delivering
a red welt that extended across the upper part of his
back, around the side and marking a portion of
Braedon's chest, just above his right nip.

"That the best you can do, Morgan?"

The comment made Morgan smile, knowing to really lay
the leather on heavy.  Braedon screamed out louder,
arching his back, grabbing at the chains above him, as
the second welt formed on his back. Much more redder
than the first, it marked his stomach, dealt out lower
on his torso. By the time the eighth lash had been
received, Braedon's head hung down in front of him,
his body wet with sweating. He breathed heavily.

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!"

With the ninth lash, he through his head back,
screaming at the top of his lungs. For the tenth and
last lash, Morgan really made this one count. Standing
back, he took a running leap, sending the brunt of the
force across Braedon's upper back. It whipped quickly
around the front, striking dead center to his right
nip.

"Bravo, Morgan! Nice finish!"

"Thank you Mr. Gonzalez, sir."

Pedro Gonzalez continued the single man applause, as
Morgan came forward to surrender the sweat-laden strap
to him.

"I need to be going out this evening. I most likely
will not return till the early morning hours. I would
like each of these men whipped on the hour, beginning
with this one," he holds the sweaty strap to JJ's
chest.

"How many sir?"

"Ten lashes."

"My pleasure, sir."

"If you tire, turn the duty over to one of the other
men."

"Oh, I wouldn't tire, sir," Morgan says, with a glint
in his eye and a smile on his face.

"I thought not, Morgan."

"Hmm..."

"Yes, sir?"

Before Pedro takes his leave, he thinks a minute. Then
he paces around JJ's body and stands at his back. JJ
braces himself for the inevitable. True to his
expectation, he screams out, as the wide strap whirs
through the air and comes thrashing against his upper
back.

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" He screams out loudly, as his
body arches from the gut-wrenching lash of pain.

"Fucking bastard!" Braedon cries out at Pedro.

Pedro smiles, delivering the other nine lashes to JJ.
When complete, he hands the strap to Morgan, saying,
"This one ten," pertaining to JJ. For Braedon, he
sentences, "Twenty-five."

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Braedon cries out.

To reinforce the sentence, Pedro throws the strap
against Braedon's chest.

"Across the front, sir?"

"No, the back. Save his chest for me!"

%

Continued....

Copyright 2005 T. Luke McPhee
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.