Date: Thu, 29 Dec 2005 20:30:41 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Out In The Wild, Wild West 25

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" 25
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

%

"He's a good looking guy, isn't he, Sean?"

"Yeah. If Brae didn't get claimed by him, I might've
let him take me."

"Claimed? Take you, Sean?"

"Yeah. Claimed, like a lion takes his mate. Claims the
lair for himself. You know, all those cute little lion
cubs?"

"Told you Sean, all this is new to me."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot Johnny."

"So, what do you mean by Cal taking you, Sean?"

"Just what is means."

"Wait. You said Cal's a top, right?"

"Yep."

"And you're a top. Right, Sean?"

"Well. Yes, but..."

"Then how can Cal.." Giving up on understanding, with
frustration, Johnny flopped over from his side, onto
his back.

"Oh, I see. Yeah," Sean turned to face Johnny, his
back now to Cal, as the three lay stretched out in the
bed.

"If you understand all this, Sean, please explain it
to me, because I haven't a clue to what you're
saying."

"I have to admit I was being vague, but this is the
way it is. I'm top. Mostly top, but in some instances,
I can change."

"To what, Sean?"

"Bottom."

"But you're a top, Sean. You like to fuck guys."

In a bit of his own frustration, Sean suggests, "I
think it's better if I show you, Johnny."

"Show me, Sean?"

As with James West, Johnny returns to propping himself
up on his elbows, as he looks at his pubes.

"Sean, what are you doing?"

Holding Johnny's semi-hard shaft in his hand, Sean
bends over, his head right above the helmet.

"Showing you that I can be both."

"Both?"

"Yeah. Either you can watch, Johnny or lay back and
enjoy!"

"Lay back and...oooooooooooh!" Johnny sighs, as Sean's
warm mouth encompasses the whole head.

His eyes look at Johnny, who still remains propped up,
but whose head has dropped back, his mouth set open by
the incredible sensuality of Sean's tongue swirling
around.

"Ooooh Sean, that feels so incredible!"

Sean knows. Right away Johnny's cock hardened into a
full erection.

Pulling off, Sean asks, "Jim West make you feel like
that, Johnny?"

Not answering the question, Johnny replies, "Don't
stop, Sean. Please don't stop!"

Smiling, Sean simultaneously closes his lips around
the 7.5c and places his flat palm on Johnny's chest,
pressing him down to the bed.

Cal still sleeps soundly though all the sounds of
moaning, groaning and slurping!

%

"Hey, be careful down there, Jim?"

"Yeah, sure."

Looking around, Jim gives Marc a peck on the lips,
then runs down the hill, sounding the alarm,
"TALLY-HOOOOOO!"

Within the walls of Pedro's complex, the guards lazily
sit around. Some are still enjoying themselves, taking
turns at raping Morgan's and Pete's asses. The Latino
guard looks around. He has already heard the sound of
attack. Seeing no one about, he pulls a knife from his
person and begins sawing through the ropes that bind
JJ's arms to the horse.

"C'mon amigo. We get you out of here, now!"

With a keen sense of perception, the Latino keeps his
wits trained on anything that moves. After removing
all four obstacles to release, he moves the captive
from the horse to his shoulder.

"Good thing you don't way a ton, amigo!"

Taking JJ over his shoulder, he makes for the metal
door, hiking up the steps. Near the top, the outer
door is flung open for him.

"Rico!"

"Hey Senor West!"

"Are you alright with him?"

Jim checks JJ's pulse real fast.

"Oh, this amigo is alright, but the other amigo, he
don't look so good."

"Do you know where they've taken him?"

"I hear they take him to a cell. Cell blocks are all
over the place. My guess would be on the west side,
Senor West."

"I think I can remember that, Rico. Take care of your
man. Agent Taylor is at the top of the hill with
carriages."

"Si, Senor West."

Under his breath, the eighteen year old, possibly the
youngest agent ever representing the Secret Service,
says, `I take very good care of this amigo!'

Careful at what lurks around every corner, Jim moves
down each corridor, searching for the cell that holds
Braedon Murphy. As he passes the guard's corridors, he
hears what seems to be a drunken brawl.

"What's that?" He hears one of the guards observe,
from within.

"It's all in your mind, Smith," One of the other
guards tells him.

Another states, "It's Morgan groaning because he likes
the feel of your fat rod up his ass!"

With the pun comes a burst of laughter. Down the
corridor, Jim checks his watch. In ten minutes, every
door and window will be broken into, from without. At
the next intersection of hallways, he checks carefully
and then proceeds.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Huh?" Jim questions, turning around.

There, behind him, two guards stand. One holds a gun
to Jim's chest.

"C'mon. Drop the weapon and put your hands up."

Jim drops the small derringer.

"Nothing funny. Check him out, Little."

For a name like Little, Jim ascertains the name as not
fitting the character. He watches, as the man,
seemingly a foot taller, circles around the side of
him. His attention drawn to the man's height, Jim
doesn't see the balled up fist coming towards his gut.

"Ugggggh!" Jim belches out, as the fist is planted in
his stomach.

With quick `gut' reaction, Jim has the advantage to
plow his elbow into the giant's stomach. With as
little as a burp, the over six foot man swings Jim
around, placing his body in a full nelson. Such is the
man's strength, that he lifts Jim's feet right off the
floor. His tight abs become the perfect target for the
other guards' fist.

"Wait, let me grab my boxing gloves."

To the in, side of the door, the guard retrieves the
big, rounded, leathery gloves. In no time he has them
on his fists. His teeth pull the lacings taut.
However, the guard adjusts the target, aiming the
first punch lower.

"Ugggggghahhhhh!" Jim suffers the first gloved punch,
a dull ache turning into a massive stroke of pain,
circulating through his pubic region, as the glove
smashes his balls.

"Oh, c'mon, Butch. Hurt him bad!"

Staring straight into Jim's eyes, Butch smiles a
toothy grin. Reaching way down, he squats over, to get
the best advantage of bringing the gloved fist up
between Jim's legs. As he goes for it, Jim bounces his
feet off the floor. As if an acrobat, trying to jump
on a member of the act's shoulders, he inverts
himself, his legs going around the sides of the
giant's head. At the same time the fist is thrown into
the giant's crotch. Every man has his vulnerable
spots!

Butch is startled as both West and the giant come
toppling towards him.

"Oh shit! He calls out, as Jim leaps in the air,
jumping over.

The giant collapses on top of Butch.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Jim says, reaching under the
pile, to retrieve his revolver. Sensing something
else, as well, lying next to his small gun, Jim
comments, "Nice pistol!"

However, he's quick to chill on the humor, regaining
his sense of cheetah awareness, checking every corner.


%

"What the fuck is this, Jason? Remove these at once!"

Standing there, Jason has feet spread, arms folded
across his chest.

"Why, Pedro, when I have you exactly where I want
you!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Actually," Jason rubs his chin, glancing over to the
rack, "I lied!"

Pedro is in a sense of wonderment, acts as if the
thirty-one year old is talking in riddles. He soon
gets the point, as Jason begins forcing him to walk
over towards the rack.

"Noooooo! You can't do this, Jason!"

"Oh, just you wait and see what I have planned for
you, Pedro!"

With a little more fussing than Jason planned from his
captive, he picks up a cold branding iron, lying on
the side, against the wall. As an extension of his
arm, he hurls it into Pedro's stomach.

"Ugggggggh!" Pedro belches out in a mighty roar,
caving in.

"Oh no you don't!" Jason answers his doubling in half,
falling to the floor.

Recovering the body, he hauls up the two hundred and
twenty-five pound, six foot, four inch man and braces
him, belly towards the rack table. With a nail he
pries the cuffs open. Such is the trade of a thief.
With one hand attached, he maneuvers Pedro about,
lifting his legs up. Still moaning, Pedro lays flat
out on the rack. With split second timing, he removes
the boots and socks. Pushing the pants up, he fastens
the leather ankle cuffs, extending to the chains of
the rack table, around Pedro's ankles. Approaching the
center of the table, he grabs the middle of Pedro's
shirt and tears it open.

"Oh yes. It's going to be such a pleasure to torture
these pecs!"

Moving towards the top of the rack, Jason drags the
shirt upwards, removing it from Pedro's body. Totally
naked, from the waist up, he attaches his wrists to
the leather cuffs, which will guide Pedro's body
towards the wheel of the rack, as it stretches every
fiber of his body.

"All set, are we?"

Breathing heavily, Pedro asks, "Wh..why are you doing
this?"

"I'll explain in a second. Let me get you more
`comfortable'?"

With his own estimation that Pedro's limbs are
fastened in place, Jason begins turning the wheel at
the top of the table. Slowly, Pedro's arms begin to
straighten out. Soon, his body begins to follow the
contour of the rack, smoothing out straightforward.
The slack is taken up in his legs and his ankles begin
to pull against the leather cuffs, bound to the iron
bar at the foot of the rack. With Pedro in place,
Jason stands now, with his torso against the rack, his
elbow denting in Pedro's belly, as he faces him.

"Why am I doing this?"

"Yes. I made you my lead guard. I was planning on
bigger things for you. Perhaps a lead in one of my
businesses?"

To Jason, it seemed like a bribe, to free him up, but
he wasn't buying it.

"Part of the most crooked organizations to ever
inhabit the earth? Part of your swindles, but most of
all part of the white slave boy ring? The ring that
kidnapped my kid brother, tortured him, broke him and
then sold him to some sultan, who further used and
abused him?"

"Your brother?"

"Yeah and God knows how many other young boys that
became torn away from their lives?"

"Jason, I swear I hadn't an inkling that your brother
was among the boys... I... I don't know all the boys that
are....."

"Oh, I know your operation, Pedro. That's why...."

Returning to the head of the table, Jason moves the
crank that controls the wheel.

"Akkkkkkkkkkk!" Pedro cries out, as his arms stretch
higher above his head.

"That's why I'm closing down your operation. Now,
while you're regaining your composure, I'll begin to
heat up the dungeon!"

Going to the furnace, Jason takes along the branding
iron he used to bash in Pedro's stomach, subduing him.
A flint starts up a roaring blaze in no time.

"Nothing like the atmosphere of hell, to warm a
dungeon!"

Chuckling, Jason strips off his own shirt, revealing
his blonde pecs, the fire causing his chest and thin
trail down his stomach to shine like gold. He
positions the branding iron within the coals.

Slapping his hands together, he replies to himself,
"While that's heating up, I'll conjure up some other
fun!"

Before he returns to the rack, he approaches the
bondage table where Artemis is still tied eagle-spread
to.

"Let's see now. This looks like fun... and
this'n'this'n'this."

Walking towards the rack, as yet set without too much
harassment, Jason carried two armfuls of torture toys.
 They had been the ones Pedro had picked out, to use
on Artemis Gordon, originally designated to torture
James West, before the stakes played high.

"You--You're insane!" Pedro called Jason, as he dropped
his toys.

Utilizing Pedro's stomach as a table, the nip clamps,
ball stretcher, different sizes of buttplugs, floggers
and several strands of leather laces and a few short
candles, decorated the hairy belly. Immediately after
dropping the implements of torture, Jason began
unfastening Pedro's pants. Peeling back the edges, he
pulled down the undergarment, anchoring the large
globes under the edge of the linen.

"Oooooh these are going to be great fun!"

A look of horror filled Pedro's face. He for one, knew
for a fact that he was capable of dealing out immense
amounts of pain, enjoying every second of it, but to
take pain, himself was not one of his fortes!

%

"Murphy?"

A troubled look filled Jim's face, as he looked
through the bars of the cell. He caught a ray of hope,
as Braedon lifted his head. His eyes bloodshot, Jim
grimaced at the appearance of his chest. From where he
stood, he could see bruises covering most of Braedon's
body, huge welts painted across his pecs, stomach, to
his sides and over his shoulder.

"Don't move, Braedon. I'm here to get you out."

No sooner had West said it, then he heard a rumbling
sound.

"The calvary is on it's way!"

Turning his boot sideways, lifting it, West moved a
secret panel at the heel. Taking it's contents, which
resembled a gummy substance, he pressed into the
keyhole of the lock. Smiling, he got a flashback of
his last play session with Marc Taylor. He dreamed, as
he worked, thinking about Taylor binding him to a
bondage table and working a slim dildo up his ass.
Another rumble shocked Jim back to reality, his
purpose. Setting a long wick, he lit it and moved back
around the corner. It set off it's own little
explosion. Returning to the cell, he pulled the bar
open. Using a special key, he was able to loosen the
locks that bound the metal cuffs to Braedon's wrists.

"Easy now," Jim said, as Braedon's body seemed to keel
over in front.

With a palm plastered against Braedon's chest, and one
hand, Jim began to unbutton his own shirt, with the
other. He was able to shimmy one arm out and then the
other. Even in the face of danger and recovery, Jim
felt saliva in his mouth, looking upon Braedon's
swollen nips. He thought of nursing them back to
health, but thought of how stupid a plan that was,
only to satisfy his own desires. Feeding Braedon's
arms through his own shirt, he could see the man had
more of a massive chest than his own. However, at
least the shirt protected his back, shoulder, arms and
some of his front. There wasn't anything Jim could do
for the bottom half of Braeden's body.

"Uh-oh," Jim stated, when the next rumble sent dust
and dirt flying down from the ceiling.

Mustering up all his energies and strength, Jim heaved
Braedon onto his bare shoulder. Barging out of the
cell, he followed the path from whence he came. As he
went to pass over the two men he knocked over, he
stopped, quickly depantsing the giant and decking
Braedon out, with the outer garment. He didn't hang
around, fidgeting with the zipper and button, but
rather let the meat hang free.

"Amigo, you need help?"

Jim, ready to dispute the fact, didn't have a choice,
as Rico dove in between Jim and Braedon, hefting the
twenty-five year old up on his shoulder.

"I don't know where you get it from, Rico!"

As they made their getaway, some of the walls began to
crumble. Passing by the guard's station, Jim heard a
faint, "Help me!"

Backtracking his steps, he peered in. Chained to one
of the beds, a young man lay. It was back to his heel,
before freeing the chained captive.

"Thanks, mister! Thank you soooo much!"

The kid cried, as Jim ran down the passageways, trying
to remember his way out. It seemed like every hallway
he ran down, spelled doom, as the walls turned to
dust. Finally he spotted the metal doorway out. As he
headed up the stairway, the door rattled.

"Oh shit!" Jim cried out, as the door broke loose from
it's hinges, tumbling inwards. As if traveling on a
flume of water, the door started coming down the
stairway. There wasn't anywhere for Jim to go, except
back down the stairs. However, the way down was
quickly caving in.

With his great sense of agility, he said, "Hold on,
kid!"

Counting, he quickly hopped on top of the door, at
this point, sliding under him and ran as fast as he
could. By the time he got to the other side of the
door, his body sweated profusely.

"Whew! You ain't the only one sweating, mister!"

At this point, Jim could take it as a joke, feeling
the coolness of the outdoor night make his nips turn
perky!

"I've got him Jim!"

It was Rico to the rescue again. Jim shook his head,
seeing in Rico, the courage of ten men and the smarts
of... well, himself, as Rico stripped off his own shirt,
to help clothe the naked youth.

"What are you looking at, Jim?"

"Nothing, Marc. Nothing at all!"

"You'll pay for lying to me, Jim!"

Marc Taylor's hand slipped into his pocket, as well,
watching most of the guards, totally naked, standing
with their legs spread, freezing their asses off,
hands on top of their heads, all thirty or so, bearing
hard nips, in the cool evening air.

"Here, Jim," Marc told him, taking his cloak off, to
surround Jim's shoulders.

"Ah, I didn't even know you cared, Marc."

"Oh, my cock will show you how much I care, when I get
you home."

His hand in his pocket, Jim tried rearranging things a
bit!

%

Continued.....

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