Date: Fri, 12 Jun 1998 19:20:58 -1000
From: John Clark <janc55@hgea.org>
Subject: Jock-Sucker ch. 10

Chapter 10

	"These are beautiful, Bobby.  I can place some of these right away,
and some of them are worth a coffee-table book by themselves."  Bobby Shale
and Tom Carlisle sat in a back booth at the HardTop.  Carlisle closed the
cover of Bobby's portfolio.
	"You really think they're that good, Mr. Carlisle?  I haven't been
able to get anybody else to look at them.  Not seriously."
	"Who have you tried?"
	"Well, mostly people here at the University.  The Fine Arts faculty
guys."
	"I'm thinking maybe you ran up against a little professional
jealousy, then.  I'm going to send the first two or three off to a friend
of mine in New York first thing in the morning."
	"God, Mr. Carlisle, that's fantastic.  I don't know how to thank
you."
	"No need.  We're both going to profit from any efforts I make.
Standard agency contract.  Unless you object?"
	"Oh, hell no!  Anything you say is fine.  I trust you,
Mr. Carlisle."
	"Good.  Bobby, as an agent I have to be a salesman.  I'm going to
try out my best salesmanship right now."  Carlisle's face, just visible in
the dimly lit bar tightened with the intensity of his words.  "And I'm
going to call on your trust.  Hear me out.  I am being completely honest
with you. Your photographic work is superb.  I am going to find markets for
it.  You'll begin to make money from your art, maybe even make a living, in
time."  Shale gazed at the other man, rapt.  Carlisle paused, looked down
at the table, then around at the dark, noisy bar.
	"Why do you think I asked you to meet me here, Bobby?"
	"Uh.  Well, I figured maybe you saw me here before or something.
Maybe you thought I'd be more comfortable here.  I guess you already
figured out it's a gay bar..."
	"To be more precise, it's a leather bar, Bobby.  And yes, I saw you
here before.  I saw you, I inquired about you and I traced you.  Your
photographic art is a very pleasant surprise from which, as I said, we will
both profit.  But my main objective is, and always has been you."  Tom
stopped.  He gazed calmly into Bobby's eyes, waiting.
	After a moment the younger man broke eye contact, gazing around the
bar as he collected his thoughts.  His eyes snapped back to the other's
face. "You mean, you wanted me?" His voice cracked
	"This is your kind of place, Bobby.  It's mine, too.  When I saw
you, you were with another man.  A fine looking man, but the wrong man for
you.  I watched the two of you go into the private playroom in back.  I
waited.  An hour later you returned.  You passed near enough to my booth
for me to see the angry welts on your arms.  You had apparently had sexual
gratification.  But equally obviously you were not happy."
	"God...," Shale said softly.
	"Bobby , this is my impression of you.  If I'm wrong, tell me.
We'll finish our beer and go our separate ways.  You are a young man who
needs discipline.  Light bondage might be quite pleasant for you.  But you
do not appreciate pain.  You aren't a masochist, but the man you were with
clearly is a sadist.  I believe that what you want and need is an older,
more experienced mentor.  A man who will lead you, shape you.  With
firmness, but with a clear sense of, and desire for, your pleasure as well
as his own.  Am I on the right track so far?  Interrupt whenever you wish,
by the way.  You don't have to wait for permission to speak.  You are not
and should not ever be a slave.  Nor am I interested in being your master.
What do say?"
	Bobby swallowed and took a deep breath.  "Mr. Carlisle, when I came
to your office this afternoon, I didn't know why you called me in.  I
didn't know what to expect.  When you told me you'd seen some of my work
and wanted to see my portfolio, I was happy to hear it.  But to tell you
the truth, you could have called me in for something else entirely and it
wouldn't have mattered, because as soon as I saw you standing there in the
doorway to your office and heard your voice greeting me, I got hit real
hard.  I prayed, I honestly prayed to God, that someday I'd be given the
opportunity to do whatever it would take to win the privilege of licking
the sweat off your body."  Shale paused to catch his breath, his face
blazing.  "Yes, sir.  What you described is a hundred percent accurate.  A
mentor is exactly what I've wanted since I was about twelve years old.  And
never found.  Please, sir.  Please!  Yes!"
	"That was very well said, Bobby."  Carlisle slid out of the booth
and stood.  Bobby looked up at him questioningly.  "Come over here and
slide in."  Shale did as he was directed, and Carlisle slid in beside him.
He twisted his torso to face the boy.  "Open the first three buttons of my
shirt," he directed.  Hands shaking, Bobby complied.  The first button
revealed jet black hair, so thick it was almost a pelt.  The next two
buttons opened the shirt nearly to the man's navel, and showed the
fur-covered contour of a heavily muscled chest.  "Feel."  Carlisle seized
Bobby's hand and laid it on the left side of his chest.  Bobby plowed his
fingers through the gleaming hair, stopping a moment for his delicate
fingertips to play over the barely exposed nipple.  His breathing was
shallow, hot.
	"Will this be satisfactory?"  Tom asked, smiling down at the
enraptured youth.
	Bobby looked up into Tom's eyes, dazed, nodding.  Carlisle put a
hand around Bobby's head and pulled the boy's face down to rest on his bare
chest. Eyes closed, Bobby's mouth kissed and sucked at the hairy,
thick-muscled torso.
	"I hoped that I was right about you, so I called this afternoon to
reserve the playroom.  Unfortunately it was already spoken for.  We can go
to my place instead if that's all right with you?"
	Bobby nodded again, savoring the rasp if the coarse hair on his
cheek.  Suddenly he stiffened, sat up from his semi-reclining position
against Carlisle's body.
	"What is it?"
	"Jason just came in.  My , uh, my ex."
	Tom's eyes followed Bobby's gaze toward the front door.  Jason
Twill had entered.  His hand circled the back of another young man's neck,
and he seemed to be propelling him forward.  The two walked toward the bar.
	Shale gasped. "Oh, God! No!"
	Carlisle tightened his arm around the younger man.  "He can't hurt
you anymore, Bobby.  You're with me, now."
	"It's not that.  Oh God.  Mr. Carlisle, I've done something really
bad.  I... I think I've hurt somebody."
	"Tell me, boy."  Carlisle radiated calm concern.
	"This afternoon when I was leaving your office, there was a man
waiting to see you.  A football player?"
	Carlisle nodded.  "Dak Rollins.  Why?"
	"Well, that kid with Jason is Rollins' lover!"
	"Oh.  I'm sorry to hear that.  I like Dak.  He'll be very hurt."
	"No!  You don't get it.  Somehow Jason knew when Rollins and the
kid would be getting it on, and he got me to take pictures of them going at
it.  That kid loved what he was doing, and I'd swear he loved who he was
doing it with!  Look at him, Mr. Carlisle.  He doesn't look happy, does he?
I think Jason's forcing him to go along."
	They watched the two men at the bar.  The bartender had drawn a
pitcher of beer and was working on another one.  As they watched, Twill
shoved the first pitcher into the unwilling hands of the other man.
	"You know what that beer is for, don't you?"  Bobby asked.
	"Yes.  And I think I recognize that young man, too.  I believe
that's Tadescu, the gymnast.  No wonder Dak's smitten.  He is beautiful."
	"Mr. Carlisle, if I'm right, I'm responsible!  I have to do
something."  Shale was in obvious torment.
	Tom thought a moment, then hastily buttoned his shirt.  As Twill
and his glum companion started down the back hall, Tom rose.  "Phone.
Come."
	

	Twill locked the door behind him and pocketed the key.  "You want a
beer, baby?  I can spare a glass," he said, leering at Ion.  "No?  Suit
yourself.  And unsuit yourself, too while you're at it.  Come on, come on,
let's have a nice long look at the merchandise."
	Ion stood, head bowed.
	Twills' voice turned ugly.  "Snap it up, asshole.  I wanna see your
dick and I wanna see it now.  Or those pretty pictures go in the mail to
the Dill Foundation tonight!  Get it, studboy. I own your ass until I'm
satisfied.  Strip!"
	Quickly Ion kicked off his loafers and peeled out of his jacket and
sweat pants to stand naked.  Twill looked on appreciatively as he filled a
stein from one of the pitchers.  "Oh, yeah.  You're fine meat.  Feet apart.
Hands behind your head.  Good.  Real good."  Shale walked up to Ion,
stroked his chest with his free hand.  "I'm gonna kiss you now, Ion.  You
just stand there, just like you're doing.  Oh, and if you feel my tongue on
your lips, that's sort of a little signal that means open your fuckin'
mouth."
	Ion steeled himself against reacting, crying out or struggling.  He
must do this thing, whatever it took.  He filled his mind with Dak's face,
his wonderful penis and strong body.  I, too, will be strong, he thought.
Then, oh God!  he felt his lips covered by Twill's.  The other man's hand
moved down now, caressing his belly and diving down to cup his cock and
balls.  Twill's tongue, as promised, poked demandingly at his lips.  Ion
opened his mouth.  Oh. DakDakDak...

 
	"Hello."
	"Dak? Tom Carlisle.  There's a problem.  It involves your friend
Ion.  I need you to come now.  I'm sending a cab to bring you.  A young man
named Bobby Shale will accompany the cab, and he'll explain the situation
to you during the ride.  Clear?"
	"Yessir.  I'll be waiting outside my place."  Dak gave his address
and rang off.

	Ion's back and thighs stung and burned with the welts from the thin
lash.  His hands were tied to a bar high over his head.  His arms ached
from the strain.  Sometimes he stood on his toes to relieve the ache, but
in moments his arches and calves hurt even worse and he had to drop back
down to stand flat footed.  His tormentor was now dressed in a harness of
leather straps with metal fastenings that revealed more than it covered,
and gave his manhood free rein.  He'd donned his leathers after thoroughly
probing Ion's mouth with his demanding tongue.  Then he interspersed
lashing with beer swilling.  The whip wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't really
too bad compared to the pain of hanging by his hands.  He heard the pitcher
thump down on the table.  Twill walked to an electrical panel on the wall
and turned a dial.  The bar overhead lowered, blessedly, until Ion's elbows
were only a little higher than his ears.
	"That feel better?"  Twill asked.  He circled behind Ion.  "I don't
want to cause you pain, baby."  The beery whisper came in his ear.  Both of
Twill's hands stroked Ion's biceps and triceps, soothing.  "Sometimes that
rack hurts, kinda, doesn't it?"  Ion felt the other man's hot mouth on his
shoulder, felt the tongue licking around the back of his neck, up into his
hairline, and down again, tracing a slow path around his scapula, nearly
into the depths of his armpit.  "I'm going to give you something really
nice, now, buff-boy.  Oh, first..."  Twill went back to the table and
returned with a strip of tape.  Ion's eyes widened in fear as Twill deftly
slapped the tape over his mouth.  "Naw.  Don't worry, this'll make it
easier for you to let out your feelings.  Don't wanna have any suppressed
feelings.  'S unhealthy.  Know wha' I mean?"  Back behind Ion, now.  "Said
I was gonna give you somethin' nice.  Y' ready?"
	Ion felt his nether cheeks being spread.  Hot, wet - his tongue!
He felt Twill licking his asshole!  The man's eager tongue fluttered over
the pink rosette, probing, swiping.  His lips slurped and sucked.  Against
his will, Ion felt his sphincter beginning to relax.  Twill's mouth sensed
the capitulation, and, with a strong push, he forced his tongue up into
Ion's pulsing rectum.  In and out he worked the warm, wet inches of mouth
meat, then withdrew.  "Sweet, baby."  Twill's arms snaked around the
captive gymnast.  He crooned into his ear.  "Really sweet.  Jus' what I
been dreamin' about, rimmin' your hard, sweet ass."  His hands worked
feverishly up and down around Ion's muscled chest and belly, his thighs,
his now slightly distended prick.  "Whoa.  Gotta slow down a little bit."
	Ion felt cool air on his naked backside as Twill pulled away.
'Kay, here's the present I promised you."  Again the boy felt his ass
cheeks being spread.  Again something approached his anus.  This time it
was cool, slick.  And the cool thing was firm, even hard, and it was
entering -- Oh God, something was being pushed into his anus!  Ion cried
out in pain and fear, but his cry was muffled, turned back inward to burn
in his throat.  Still the probe continued inward.  Unable to stop himself,
Ion screamed again.
	"Shut up, cunt!"  Twill snarled.  The sudden mood swing was nearly
as frightening to Ion as the invasion of his body.  "This is only a skinny
little six incher.  I'm just reaming out the channel a little bit.  You're
gonna get a lot more than this before we get done, you fuckin' little
cocksucker.  An' you're gonna love it!  So shut the fuck up!"
	Twill's arms reached around Ion.  He snapped something in place and
stepped back.  The device was now secured around his hips, keeping the plug
firmly lodged in his agonized rectum.  "Okay.  Next step."  Again the man
lowered the overhead bar, gesturing for Ion to step backward as he did so.
The bar rolled down until Ion's arms were straight out in front of him.
Twill attached a pair of handcuffs, then untied Ion's hands from the bar
and yanked the tape from his mouth.  "Over here."  Twill motioned Ion to
follow him to a low couch, covered by a rubber sheet.  "Down on the bed.
Oh, and if you don't want a hell of a pain in the ass, you better sit
side-saddle.  Better yet, lie down on your side."  Taped and bound, Ion had
no choice but to obey.  Gingerly he edged himself onto the couch, trying
not to impale himself any further on the burning probe in his butt.
	Twill crouched on the floor in front of Ion.  He reached for Ion's
cock and brought it to his mouth.  His tongue flicked out and licked the
head, then he stuffed the head into his mouth.  Ion felt the tongue
swirling around his cockhead, then suddenly the teeth took a light nip at
his foreskin.  He jumped.  Twill pulled back and laughed.  "Gotcha.  Damn,
you taste nice.  Almost wish I didn't put that plug up your butt, 'cause
I'd really like to eat some more of that sweet ass of yours.  Oh
well. Later. Right now it's time for something a little different."  He
shifted so that his genitals loomed over Ion's face.  "Suck me, baby!"
	Ion had known this was coming, that it was inevitable.  He opened
his mouth and felt Twill insert the first few inches of his still-limp
prick.  "Swallow it, asshole.  Or else!"  Ion forced his throat to comply,
and as he made the swallowing motion, Twill pushed his cock with his
fingers down into the waiting maw until his pubic hair rimmed Ion's mouth.
"Yeah!  Fucker!  I'm all the way inside your cunt mouth, cocksucker!"
Twill pulled out, then, finally leaving only a few inches of cock meat
resting in the furrow of Ion's tongue.
	"Now just hold still.  Rest a little, okay?"  Ion cast his eyes
upward over the flesh bridge that connected him to the hard, leather-bound
body before him.  What was the beast going to do now?  His mouth still
filled with cock, he craned his eyes further up.  Twill's eyes were closed,
his breathing calm.  A hot splash filled his mouth.  He jerked back, gagged
and swallowed.  Ion watched in horror as a golden stream of piss shot out
of the head of Twill's prick, splashing his face and running down over his
chest.  Twill laughed uproariously as he aimed his spraying weapon all up
and down Ion's body.
	"How's that, baby?  Was that your first good, honest drink of piss?
Yeah, sure it was, vanilla boy!  Want some more?"  Ion slammed his eyes and
mouth shut as the hot, yellow stream flashed back up his chest and all over
his face and head.  "No, baby.  Open up, and keep it open."  Defeated, Ion
opened his mouth wide and tilted his head up to catch the spraying stream.
Dak!  Oh, God, Dak!
	Suddenly there was a roar.  The piss stream jerked up into the sky
and away from Ion, and he saw Twill's body fly through the air and fetch up
against the far wall.  Dak himself loomed over Ion.  The huge man scanned
his lover's welted, soiled body, and turned back to Twill with another
roar.  "You son of a bitch!  I'm gonna kill you!" he yelled as he lunged at
the cowering leather-clad man.  Through the pounding roar of the blood
rushing through his own head, Ion was dimly aware of two other figures
jumping in front of Twill to restrain Dak.  He heard low voices, but
couldn't hear the words.  But he saw Dak settle back, heard his voice too,
cooler now.  Then Dak was returning.  He had the key to the cuffs.  Gently
he took them from Ion's wrists.  Ion covered his face with his hands.
	"Please.  Don't look at me."
	"Honey, it's all over."
	"I am shamed.  I have profaned what we have had together.  Please
go."
	Dak seized Ion's hands, brought them away from his face.
	"What are you talking about?  You haven't done anything shameful."
	"Only look at me.  I have submitted to another man.  Have even
swallowed his urine."  Ion gagged, retched, barely managing to stop himself
from vomiting.  "How can you look at me?  Touch me?  I am filth."
	"Oh, no, Ion.  He's filth, not you.  I know why you did what you
did.  I know you.  You did it to protect me.  My reputation.  And my deal
with the foundation.  Oh, God!  Ion, don't hate yourself, hate me!  I could
have spared you all of this!  I canceled my foundation gig this morning.  I
told them I couldn't do it because I'm gay, and I want to live openly with
the man I love.  If only I'd called you right then, you would have known
there wasn't anything to hide.  Shit!  Shit!" Dak broke into racking sobs.
	"Stop!  Oh, stop, please.  I was in class all day.  You could not
have called me.  You are faultless, unlike me.  I am fouled, and I wish
only to go home.  Will you help me to stand?"  Wordlessly Dak lifted Ion to
his feet.  The motion pulled cruelly on the harness, and Ion's hands flew
to the strap to unbuckle it.
	"What the hell is that?"  Dak looked on in disbelief as Ion slowly
removed the plug from his burning rectum.  "Oh.  My.  God!  Oh, Ion!  Jesus
Christ, what did he do to you?"  Dak went to his knees behind Ion.  Gently
he spread the butt cheeks and stared at the painfully reddened area.  "Did
he fuck you?  Did he?!?"
	"No, Dak.  You came in time to prevent that, and I am grateful.
Please, do you see my clothes?"
	"Ion, please..."
	One of the other men, a young man with flaming red hair, approached
carrying Ion's shirt and pants.
	"Please, Mr. Tadescu.  Can I talk to you just for a second?  My
name's Bobby Shale, and I'm the fucking asshole who took those damn
pictures.  Get mad at me.  Hit me if you want to.  I deserve it.  But don't
blame yourself.  And for God's sake don't shut Mr. Rollins out.  What you
guys have is good and clean.  Don't fuck up like I did."  Bobby's earnest
intensity made Ion pause.  "Why did you do it, Mr. Shale?"  He asked.
	"Because he wouldn't let me take his cock in my mouth unless I did.
I hurt you to get my lover's dick.  The shame's mine, not yours.  I did
what I did from sex hunger.  You sacrificed for your lover.  You're only
soiled on the outside.  And there's a shower in that room over there, by
the way."
	"Did you know what Jason planned to do with the photographs?"
	"No!  Oh, God, no!  But I should have figured.  It's my fault."
Bobby's eyes were rimmed with tears.  His face blazed with shame.  Ion
hesitantly touched his arm..  "If I cannot take the filth of this man into
myself, then you cannot take his blame.  He has sinned against us both."
Ion thought a moment, then went on.  "And I can understand why you acted as
you did.  I think I would do even worse things to have Dak in me.  I can
feel your need.  I bear you no ill will."  Ion leaned forward and kissed
Shale on the cheek.  "Thank you.  Your advice is good.  Dak," he said,
turning, "will you help me to the shower?  I have some pain, still."
	The big man's eyes were wet too.  He bent and smoothly picked Ion
up in his arms.  Together they went into the shower room and closed the
door.
	Tom Carlisle had used the handcuffs on Twill, and hitched him to
the overhead bar.  He came to Bobby.  "You did well.  You're a lot cleaner
now, yourself."  His heavily muscled arms went around the redhead.  Their
lips met, then their tongues.  They were still entwined in a deep embrace
when the others came out of the shower room several minutes later.
Hesitantly approaching them, Dak cleared his throat.
	"Excuse me, Tom.  What do we do about that piece of shit over
there?"
	Tom smiled as he turned to Dak and Ion.  One arm still firmly
around Bobby's waist, he extended the other hand to Ion.  "Mr. Tadescu, I'm
Tom Carlisle.  I'm honored to meet a world-class athlete.  And an
outstanding person.  You are most impressive.  I hope we'll become
friends."
	He gestured to Twill, hanging by his hands as Ion had been earlier.
The leather had disappeared from his body, and he looked vulnerable and
scared.
	"Mr. Twill has caused a good deal of trouble for you.  I'd like you
to leave him in my hands.  Mine and Bobby's.  My sense of Mr. Twill is that
there were things missing from his youth.  The lack of these things has
warped his sense of fitness, his values.  I believe Bobby and I can help
him.  You're welcome to stay and watch, of course.  No?  Maybe another
time."  His smile was genuine, and still somehow menacing.  Dak and Ion
excused themselves and hurried out.