Date: Wed, 17 Sep 2008 14:36:04 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jonathan 8

From Sunday evening August 24th 2008.

With reluctance Jonathan opened his eyes.  He looked up at a white ceiling.
He moved his head and saw that he was in a small room.  The curtain was
across the window and it looked as though it was dark outside.  He was
lying on a bed, and was fully clothed, wearing his open necked shirt and
jeans, only his shoes had been removed.

"So you've woken up?" came a voice that he did not recognise.

Jonathan turned and saw a man sitting in a chair watching him.  "Who are
you?  Where am I?"

"I'm Frank, and you're in Bill's house."

"Why am I there?"

"Bill `ad you brought `ere."

"Why?  I was meant to be going back to Keith's place."

"Bill'll answer all your questions in good time.  Would you like a drink?
Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please."

Frank got up and went to the door and opened it.  "Alec, `e's awake and
wants some coffee.  Bring me one as well, and some cake."

"But why am I here?"

"I ain't answering no more questions.  You can see Bill in a few minutes,
when you're feeling up to it."

Jonathan tried to sit up, but felt dizzy so he lay back down again.

The door opened and Jonathan turned to see another man enter, carrying a
tray.  He was a thin mean looking man.  He looked down at Jonathan with no
expression on his face, and put the tray down on a chest of drawers before
leaving the room.

Frank, who was a large tough looking man, continued to sit for three or
four minutes, looking at Jonathan, who found his expressionless stare
disconcerting.  Then Frank got up and put a mug and a plate on which there
was a slice of sponge cake onto the bed side table.

"'ere you are.  Drink and eat vat, and you'll feel better."

Jonathan managed to get up and sit on the edge of the bed.  He drank the
coffee and ate the cake.  He began to feel more his normal self.  He rubbed
his hands over his face, and stretched his arms.

"Can you stand without keeling over?"

Jonathan stood for a moment.  "I'm feeling better now.  What happened?"

"I told you, no answers from me."  Frank went to the door and called out.
"Alec, I vink he's fit enough for Bill now."

Jonathan sat down again on the bed, and Frank continued to watch him.
Jonathan did not know whether to return the stare, or look away, he chose
the latter, but kept glancing at Frank.  After several minutes Alec opened
the door.  "Bill'll see `im now."

Jonathan stood up, and Alec led the way into a large room, at one end of
which was a large desk, at which Bill was seated.

"Come in and sit down, Jon."

Jonathan walked across the room and sat on a chair in front of the desk.
He noticed that Frank and Alec sat on a couple of chairs either side of the
door.

"What's going on Bill?  Why've I been brought here?

"All in good time, Jon," said Bill with a smile.  "First, may I ask you if
you enjoyed the weekend?"

"Yes, you know I did."  Jonathan began to relax.  "I've never experienced
anything like it before.  I'd only been with my school friend before I met
up with Keith.  I certainly hadn't run around naked for a couple of days
before."

"I thought you were enjoying yourself.  You looked as though you were.  I
enjoyed Saturday morning with you.  For one with so little experience at
it, you're a natural.  You've got a real gift, and I gather a quick and
ready learner."

"But why've you brought me here?"

"I want you to work for me."

"Work for you!  I am going up to Uni in a few week's time."

Bill smiled.  "No.  I want you to work for me."

When Jonathan began to protest, Bill held up his hand.  "Hear me out.  Let
me tell you about the job I want you to do."  He paused.  "I run a club.
You may have heard it mentioned over the weekend.  Some people call it
Bill's Place.  It's official name in the Plato Club.  That name was
suggested to me by some well educated gent.  On the face of it, it is an
ordinary professional men's club.  It is situated in the West End, on the
edges of the usual club-land area.  Men can come and have a meal, play
cards, or snooker, read the papers, have a drink – all the usual
things. Even stay the night. But there is an annex.  Almost all the members
of the club like the same sort of thing.  Yes, they like having sex with
attractive sexy young men like you.  You enjoyed the weekend; you've just
said so.  I'm offering you a job that will mean a life like a perpetual
weekend."

"A sort of sex-worker?"  asked Jonathan, horrified.

"I suppose some people would call it that."

"But I'm due to go up to Uni!"

"I'm offering you, what do they call it, - a gap year.  Perhaps two or
three years."

"But I want..."

"Let me spell out for you the advantages to you.  You will be paid.  I will
pay you a basic twenty five quid a week.  On top of that you will get paid
another fifteen quid for every time you have a session with a client.  On
top of that you'll receive tips.  Most of my boys rarely earn less than
five hundred quid a month, sometimes it's a thousand smackers or more.  The
money is saved and invested for you, and you'll get interest on that.
You'll have no rent to pay, your food, clothing and heating will all be
provided.  That will mean, Jon, my boy, that when you go up to Uni in two,
three or more years time, you'll have a tidy sum behind you.  No mounting
debts for you.  You'll be able to live at Uni like a lord."

"But, Bill, it's already planned I'm going up to Bristol in three weeks
time."

"Are you sure about that?  Have you told them your exam results, and
accepted the place?  I wouldn't be at all surprised if your place wasn't
already filled by someone else."

Jonathan thought for a moment, and realised that what Bill was saying may
well be true.  "But I don't want to be the sexual play thing of a whole lot
of disgusting old men."

"Let me tell you about the membership of my club.  There are some top men
in the media word, from Whapping and television and radio.  There are high
executives from Canary Wharf, and bankers from the City.  There are at
least a couple of regulars who have made a pile in various questionable
activities in the East End.  The law is quite well represented, barristers
from the Inns of Court, as well as a couple of judges.  There are medics
from Harley Street.  A few better off actors from theatre-land.  There are
several from both parts of the gas works, [Parliament] and not just toffs
from the benches of the Tories.  There are three or four bishops of various
churches.  These are not disgusting old men.  They are top men, high in
their professions.  Bishops, M.Ps., judges and so on dare not go cottaging
or to a sauna.  The gutter press makes mince meat of those who make that
mistake.  But Bill's Place is safe.  Outwardly so respectable, with but one
secret door leading into the annex.  There they can get their cocks sucked,
or their arses fucked, by an attractive, good looking, clean young man.
Whatever they want.  And they are prepared to pay.  I sometimes think they
have more money than sense, but they give me a good life; and they can put
a lot of cash into your pocket.

"No, Bill, thank you for the offer."

"And they're not all old men.  There are young executives.  You enjoyed
your sessions with Ted, there are a lot like him.  You know how much top
footballers are paid today, some not much older than you.  There are a
number who like sex with guys.  It's okay for them to be photographed with
their hands on some bird's boobs, or fiddling around in her knickers; but
their football career would be over in a flash if it were known they really
liked sucking cock and other activities we both like.  No, they are not all
old, I know one top footballer who is slightly younger than you, who comes
to the club whenever he can get away.  He was introduced by his club
manager, premier division naturally.

"No, Bill."

"I don't know what you want to do when you finish at Uni.  Law, Commerce,
banking, medicine?  You would not be the first of my boys who have been
given an open door into their chosen world because they had first met a
client at my place.  Think about it, I'm making you a good offer."

"No, Bill!  I want to phone my folks and tell them I'm coming home."

"Are you sure they want you back?  Things were bad enough for you when your
folk learnt that you had played around with your friend.  What would they
think of you when they know you have been away for a weekend of sex.  What
if I sent them a pic of you sitting on my cock obviously enjoying it?"

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?  Look at that" Bill pushed across the desk a couple of
pictures of Jonathan taken during his session with Bill.  "Then there is
the rest of your family.  What would your young brother and sister to say
if they knew what their older brother had been up to?  Or your
grandparents, come to that?

The thought of Gramps Pridham knowing was a body blow.  Jonathan was silent
for a minute or two taking it in.  "I want to go, Bill.  Just let me go."

"I'm not letting you go, just like that.  I want you to work for me.  I'm
not used to being said `No' to."

"You can't keep me against my will."

"Can't I?"

"I'll be traced."

"What makes you think that?  You're no Madeleine McCann, with your young
mug known all around the world.  If, and I repeat, if, your parents have
gone to the police, they would have been told that at eighteen you're old
enough to go your own way.  Any way, you left home after a family row;
there are countless youngsters like you leaving home every day."

"I'll be traced."

"How?  Some CCTV camera may have picked you up at Luton station.  Maybe at
the Thames Link station at King's Cross.  Then where did you go?  The main
line station.  Keith was careful how much he showed of his face there.
Then where?  Are the police going to spend many man hours searching for a
possible sighting of an eighteen year old who left home because he likes
being screwed by men?  No way!"  Bill glared at Jonathan.

"I will give you twenty four hours to think it over."  Bill turned to Frank
and Alec, "Take him away."

They came and lifted Jonathan bodily off the chair.  He protested and
struggled.

"Shut your bloody gob," said Frank and punched Jonathan hard in the
stomach.  He was dragged out of the room down some stairs and along a
passage-way in the cellar of the house.  "This is were you will stay."
Alec held Jonathan from behind, while Frank's huge hands took hold of the
collar of Jonathan's shirt.  Frank pulled and tore the shirt off; buttons
went flying.  The Frank undid the belt on Jonathan's jeans, and pulled them
off, with his pants.  Jonathan's shoes had come off in that process.  Then
his socks were removed.

"He's got a nice body, Frank," said Alec.

"I know.  We'll have some fun doing various things to it over the next day
or two, I hope."  Frank then took hold of Jonathan's belt and struck
Jonathan's thigh with it.  "Yes, we'll have some fun."

Alec bundled up Jonathan's clothes and the two of them left the room, and
pulled bolts across the outside of the door.

Jonathan looked around.  He was in a small room.  In the centre of the high
ceiling there was a light, and in one corner a camera looked down on him.
The walls were bare, there were no windows.  On the floor was a mattress,
and in one corner a bucket.  He was in this small room, completely naked,
and there were five shirt buttons scattered across the floor.

He heard another door shut, and then there was silence.  Absolute silence,
no sound from the rest of the house, no sound from outside, no passing
traffic.  It was sometime later that he heard or rather felt the distant
rumble of an underground train.  He thought he was somewhere in London.

***

From his early days Jonathan had never been for long out of sight of a
clock or watch, so he found it very difficult to gauge the passing of time.
He sat on the mattress, with his back against the wall.

He despaired.  How had he allowed himself to get into this situation?
Several thoughts of `If only' came into his mind.  If only he had not left
his home in Luton.  If only he had rung his parents during those few days
when he was with Keith, when he had access to a phone.  If only he had said
`No' to the invitation to Bill's weekend, and gone his own way.  He felt
out of his depth, in a situation for which his previous life had left him
totally unprepared.

How long he sat there he had no idea.  Eventually he heard the further door
open, and steps coming down the stairs and approaching his room.  The bolts
were drawn back.  Frank entered the room with a tray, on which there was a
plate of scrambled egg on toast, some more of the cake, an apple, and a
glass of water; and the glass was plastic, and almost unbreakable.

"I forgot to tell you.  The fucking bucket is for you to piss in.  If you
need a fucking shit, give a shout.  There's a microphone in that thing."
He nodded towards the camera in the ceiling.  "We'll hear you; but make
sure you do want a fucking shit."  He handed the various items off the tray
to Jonathan, and left.

Jonathan noted that the knife and fork were of flimsy plastic such as were
now being used for meals on aircraft.  When he had eaten, he lay back, and
tried to reckon the time.  He thought it was now sometime in the evening.
He dropped off to sleep.  It was strange sleeping naked, without pyjamas as
at home, and without any duvet or sheet over him.  He was warm enough, but
it still felt strange.  The silence continued, except for that occasional
rumble which it seemed was more felt than heard.  He wondered if he was
being watched the whole time.

He was bored.  There was no reading matter, no radio to listen to, or
television to watch, just the silence.

Then again he heard the outer door, and the same procedure as before.  Alec
brought him his breakfast.  It was a good cooked breakfast, with fruit
juice, cereal, as well as the usual bacon, egg, sausage and fried bread.
There was even some slices of toast, and small containers of butter and
marmalade.  Bill was not trying to starve him into submission, yet!  That
first day Jonathan was able to keep some track of the time by his meals.
There was a lunch, even a cup of tea and slice of cake at what Jonathan
reckoned to be mid-afternoon.  Then there was a more substantial meal in
the evening.  As soon as he had finished eating either Frank or Alec would
come down and collect the dirty crockery and cutlery.  It was obvious he
was being watched the whole time.

When they came to collect his tea things he said he wanted to shit.  He was
told to take his piss-bucket to empty and was taken into another room where
there was a shower and loo.  He emptied the bucket and washed it out.
Frank was present when he sat on the loo, and stood arms akimbo watching
without comment.

Some time in the evening Bill came down.  "Well, Jon, are you going to
accept my offer?"

"No, Bill.  You have no right to imprison me like this.  I demand to be let
out."

"When you change you mind, just tell Frank or Alec.  It must be a real
change of mind.  Not fooling around with me.  Okay, guys, he's all yours.
You know the rules."  Bill turned and walked away.

Jon called out after him, but was silenced by a hard slap round the face.
"Shut that noise, you bastard.  You're ours now."

Before Jonathan knew what was happening Alec produced a set of handcuffs,
which were snapped onto his wrists.  He was then dragged into the room
where the shower and toilet were placed.  A short chain hung from the
ceiling, from which hung a hook.  The handcuffs were attached to the hook.
Jonathan was able to stand but his hands were above his head, and he was
now, more than ever, conscious of his nakedness and vulnerability.

Alec left the room briefly and returned carrying what at first sight looked
like some sort of fly whisk.  At the working end there was a cluster of
very thin leather strips.  He handed the flogger to Fred, who lightly
played with it over Jonathan's face.  Frank lightly flicked it over
Jonathan's chest and down over his stomach.  The sensation was not
unpleasant.  Then he got down to Jonathan's genitals; the sensation was
distinctly pleasant, and he was aware that his cock was rising.

"Look at that, Alec, not a bad for a young un."

Alec reached forward and held Jonathan's cock which soon reached full
hardness.  Then he backed away, and Fred resumed lightly flicking it around
Jonathan's genitals.  Alec's hand felt Jonathan's buttocks, and gave them a
tender squeeze.

Then suddenly Fred swiped the flogger hard over Jonathan's cock and balls.
The surprise and stinging pain made Jonathan cry out.  The two men laughed.
This playing with him went on from some time, long periods of gentle
flicking, and then when he began to relax a stinging reminder of his
plight.

Eventually after what seemed to Jonathan an age, Fred said he was thirsty,
and needed a cup of tea.  The two of them left the room and Jonathan was
left.  After about ten minutes they came back carrying mugs of tea.  Fred
resumed his teasing use of the flogger, but almost immediately from behind
Alec threw the hot contents of the mug at Jonathan's back. Again Jonathan
cried out, and again the two men laughed.

"We're going to have some fun with this one," said Fred.

Jonathan was strung up by the handcuffs at irregular intervals.  Sometimes
the periods of physical abuse were short, and at others long.  Sometimes
there seemed to be a long passage of time between episodes of punishment,
other times the gaps were very short.  Always there was the jeering
comments from the two about Jonathan's equipment, and questions about his
sexual abilities.  The instruments of torture varied, there were three
types of flogger used on him, the soft one that was used that first time,
and two others that were much harder.  The pain caused by each was
different.  His chest and stomach, back and buttocks, and his thighs and
calves were thrashed the most. The abuse of his genitals was less frequent,
but was always administered suddenly and very painfully.

Usually Jonathan was taken back to the cell where he could be kept under
twenty-four hour surveillance.  Then the door would be slammed, and
Jonathan heard the bolts being pulled across.

The sound of the bolts was to be the ominous sound that Jonathan carried
with him long after the experience was over.  Sometimes it would mean food,
or a drink, for he was fed well, though somewhat irregularly. Sometimes it
meant a visit with a torrent of verbal abuse, or a quiet question, "Are you
ready to accept Bill's offer now?"  But it also could mean another session
of physical abuse.

"It's a pity to leave marks on that lovely bum." One or other of them would
say.

"Yea, there are other things I'd like to do with that bum.  It gives me
quite a hard-on just seeing it.  Let's hope Bill gives us the okay soon."

Jonathan had been able to keep some account of the passing of time that
first twenty-four hours.  But now became much more difficult.

He was given three or for breakfast type meals in succession.  Sometimes he
was left for quite long periods, sometimes the meals seemed very close
together.  He thought that there were times when the distant slightly felt
rumbles were few and far between, and thought that might be at night, but
he was not sure.

Jonathan had picked up the five small shirt buttons from the floor.  When
his ordeal was over he wondered if these had helped him keep his sanity.
He played with them, and was surprised at the many ways he could use them
to pass the time.  But always there was the abuse, the leather belt or the
old table tennis bat.

There were times when the slaps and beatings were very painful.  He could
see the bruises and other marks on his body, and always he was conscious of
the camera looking down on him.  He found that often, but not always, when
he dropped off to sleep he was awakened by a visit from his gaolers.  For
this he presumed a fairly close watch was being kept on him.  Often he sat
on his mattress with his back against the wall.

He missed having anything to read.  When he asked Frank or Alec for a daily
paper, or any book.  They just laughed.  He knew that it was important to
keep his mind occupied, and not to dwell on his present plight too much.
He began by reciting poetry he had learnt at school, and was surprised at
how much came back to him when he really concentrated.  He worked on books
he had read, the occasional film he had seen, and tried to remember the
plot, and eventually to think of himself writing a critique of what he had
been examining in his mind. Always creeping out from the back of his mind
was the realisation of his present situation.  But always there was the
abuse, the flogger or his own leather belt.

Then there were the five shirt buttons.  He often wondered why they were
not taken from him, as the watchers must have seen him doing things with
them.

His religious upbringing came into play.  He had been taught from earliest
days the importance and efficacy of prayer.  But could, should, he pray?
Would God listen to any prayer from him?  He was guilty of the abominable
sin of homosexual activity.  Not just with his school friend, but even more
seriously, he had delighted in all he had done on the weekend.  It had
seemed to be a discovery of his true self.  But if his true self was indeed
such a vile sinner, surely God would not listen to any prayers of his.  He
found some spiritual solace, not in praying in the usual sense of the word,
but in remembering and then meditating on passages from the Bible that he
had learnt. ..Sometimes there were whole chapters like Psalm Twenty-three,
`The Lord is my shepherd' or on 1 Corinthians chapter 13, where Paul speaks
about love.  Often it was isolated verses he remembered.  He found it hard
to think of loving Bill, Frank and Alec.  He wondered if he was in the
valley of the shadow of death, and his persistent refusal to accept Bill's
offer would mean that they would just get rid of him. But always there was
the abuse, the floggers, his own leather belt or just a slap and a punch.

Jonathan had seen comparatively little television.  He had not picked up
from his limited viewing one of the techniques often used by police and
others when dealing with someone.  When there were two officers one would
be the strict one, the harsh one, the abusive one; the other would be the
gentler, less abusive.  Jonathan soon realised that a thrashing from Frank
was far more painful than a thrashing from Alec.  At first, he thought Alec
was just the weaker of the two, and had not got so much power in his arm.
Then he began to think that Alec was not so vindictive.

He was allowed to shower at times.  Again there seemed to be no pattern, no
regularity.  Often it happened after a beating.

"He's beginning to stink, I think he needs a bloody shower."

Then one day as he was being escorted long the passage by Alec, a small
bottle was pressed into his hand, and Alec whispered into his ear.  "Rub
some of this into where you hurt most after your shower, and it will take
away some of the hurt.  Hand the bottle back to me as you come out of the
shower."

Jonathan did as Alec suggested and he found that he soreness and bruising
was eased.

Alec was always unpleasant in the cell, as he was under the gaze of the
camera, but in the passage and in the shower it was different.  Jonathan
tried to get Alec to tell him how many days had gone by, but he was never
given an answer to that question.  But Alec often stood watching him
shower, and talking.  This ranged from words of appreciation of his body,
to details of the weather outside, and even on a couple of occasions about
some of the other things he did for Bill.

Frank however, was entirely different.  He was always abusive.  He stood
watching Jonathan in the shower, leering at him.  Often he would rub his
crotch.  "I can't wait to get my tool up your arse.  Then you will know
what it is like to be split in two.  Any day now, I will be coming down to
your room to give you a fucking good fuck."

How long could he hold out?  Should he hold out?  May be there would be
opportunities to escape if he accepted Bill's offer?  It was not a totally
unattractive offer.  To accept would be a sort of gap years such as many
students took.  If what Bill had told him was true, and Bill did make sure
that some good money came his way, then he could go through University
without getting into debt.  He admitted to himself that the financial costs
of University were weighing heavily on his mind.  But there was a stubborn
streak in Jonathan.  Whenever his resolve weakened, he pulled himself
together and continued to say, `No'. But always there was the abuse, the
floggers, his leather belt or the perpetual torrent of verbal abuse.

Also there was the realisation that he had no idea how long he had been in
his cell.  Was it a matter of days, or was it now a matter of weeks.

Then came the day when Alec escorted him to the bathroom for a shower.
"Give yourself a good shower, I don't want you dirty.  Bill's given the
okay for me to fuck you.  And I fully intend to fuck you.  You have a
choice.  Co-operate, and we could both enjoy it; resist and only I will
enjoy it.  I can always call Frank down and he'll hold you down. Think that
over while you're in the shower."

Jonathan was very conscious of the blatantly lustful attention of Alec
while he showered.  As he dried himself, he turned to Alec.  "I'll
co-operate."

"Good lad, you're seeing sense.  He. reached into his pocket, pulled out a
tube of KY jelly and handed it to Jonathan.  "You get yourself ready.  I'm
getting hard at the thought."

They went back into the cell, where the watchful eye of the camera looked
down on them.

"How do you want me?"

"I think, doggie fashion."

Jonathan watched as Alec undid his trousers and pulled them off.  He began
to unroll a condom onto his good sized cock, and apply some lube to it.

"On your knees, boy."

Jonathan got down on all fours, with his arse invitingly in the air.  Alec
got down behind, placed his cock on target and slowly, and quite gently
began to push.  Jonathan relaxed his body as he felt Alec enter.

Meanwhile in a room in the house above Bill and Frank were watching events
below.  As Alec's cock sank into Jonathan they turned to each other and
gave each other the thumbs up.

"I reckon he'll be saying `Yes', within the next three days," said Bill.

"As long as I get a chance to get my cock up that arse of his," muttered
Frank.

Alec took things slowly, so that he could enjoy it to the full.  Jonathan
relaxed further, and began to respond to the thrusts of the other man, and
the noises of pleasure that Alec was making.

Alec lent forward and whispered in Jonathan's ear, "I think you're enjoying
this.  I may look a mean bastard, but I don't like forcing myself on any
guy.  This is meant to give both sides some good fun."  Alec's hand reached
round and took hold of Jonathan's cock.  "Let's see if we can get our
cuming together."

They did not succeed in that.  Jonathan had not cum since the weekend in
the country at Bill's farm, as he had been conscious of the camera.  So he
came quickly, and a lot of cum shot on to the mattress.  This set Alec on
the irresistible path to climax.  Jonathan felt Alec's cock throb several
times deep within.

When they had pulled apart, Alec turned to Jonathan, "Well, boy , that
wasn't too bad was it?"

Jonathan grinned, his first smile to one of his captors.

Alec pulled off the condom and threw it into piss-bucket.  As he opened the
door to leave he turned to Jonathan.  "Thanks, boy, I enjoyed that."

"So did I," whispered Jonathan, ashamed to confess to the fact loud enough
for Alec to hear.

***

Jonathan's experience with Frank was totally different.

It was about an hour later that Frank came stumping down the passage, and
flung open the door.  "My turn, now.  Lean up against that wall, lad, I'm
going in."

Frank just undid his zip and pulled out his cock.  It was very hard.  Then
he undid his belt, and half lowered his jeans.  Jonathan watched as Frank
put the condom on, no lubrication was applied. Frank slapped Jonathan's bum
a few times, and man-handled him into the posture he wanted.  Jonathan
briefly felt the cock get on target and with one sharp thrust Frank pushed
it in.  It was painful, but there was still a little lubrication around
from the earlier activity.  But Frank was like a surprising percentage of
big men, his cock was not very big.  It was nowhere near as big as that on
the shorter and smaller Alec.  Later Jonathan reckoned it was well less
than five inches, at least two inches shorter than Alec's.  Frank gave a
series of sharp thrusts, and slapped Jonathan several times.  Very soon, he
was throbbing inside Jonathan as he came.  He immediately pulled out,
pulled off the condom and threw it into the bucket where it joined Alec's.
He gave Jonathan a couple more slaps, and left the room without a word.

***

Some time later, how long in hours, or even days Jonathan did not know,
Alec took him to have a shower.  Alec stood watching as Jonathan stepped
into the shower and began to wash himself.  "You're fuckin' well wasted,
boy.  Vat body of yours calls for making others `appy, and for getting'
some fun yourself."

Jonathan turned to face Alec.  "You like it then?"  He smiled.

"You can see I do."  Alec thrust his crotch forward and Jonathan could see
that there was a hard-on concealed within.

"I must admit I quite enjoyed our time together, much more than I did with
Frank."

"You must get all wound up in vat room.  We know you never `ave a wank,
`cos we're watching almost the whole of the time.  I've lived in `opes all
ver time.  Vat cock of yours is goin' to waste.  Step out of ver shower."

Jonathan stepped out of the shower, and to his slight surprise Alec knelt
in front of him and began to suck his cock.  It was immediately hard.  Alec
continued, and even when Jonathan gave a warning he continued until a load
of Jonathan's cum had gushed into Alec's mouth.

Alec wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  "Vat were good.  I vink
you'll be needing frequent showers."  He winked at Jonathan.  "Vere ain't
no cameras in `ere, so for a few minutes we can do what we like."

Frank's visits became more to be dreaded.  He was ever more vicious.  He
slapped with his hand, punched with his fist, and even more frequently used
Jonathan's own leather belt on his buttocks, back and thighs.

"You got some nasty marks on you're legs and bum," said Alec, "I don't vink
Frank knows when to stop."

Jonathan had completely lost all track of time.  He had no sense of the
passing of the days.  He wondered just how long this could go on for.  He
could partially escape from the present by going in his mind to other
things, and other occasions, but the harsh realities of his present were
never far away.  Something in his rambling thoughts would bring him back to
the cell, or the latest pain inflicted by Frank...His developing
relationship with Alec seemed like a life line; and that was where he was
becoming vulnerable.  He didn't know that one of the cardinal rules for
those who are prisoners is never, never, make friends with your gaoler.

So it was after what seemed a long sleepless period, full of foreboding
about Frank's next visit, that when it Alec came with a meal, Jonathan with
a croaking voice whispered, "I want to say, `Yes' to Bill's offer."

Alec almost dropped the tray, and looked at Jonathan.  "You sure?  You not
playing around?  If you go back on it ven Frank will be at you in full
fury."

"I am sure, I want to accept Bill's offer."

"At last you seeing sense.  Eat this, while I go and contact Bill.  He
ain't `ere at ver moment."

Jonathan ate the fool with a mixture of resignation and relief.  He felt
himself relax, and begin to wonder what would happen next.

After a while Alec returned.  "Can't get `ere for two or three days.  But
`e says you're to `ave a shower, and get dressed."  Alec handed Jonathan
his clothes and a Tshirt to replace his torn shirt.

Alec let him shower alone, and only came back into the room when Jonathan
turned off the water.  It felt strange to be dressed again, he still did
not know how long he had been in his cell.

"Do you want a last look at your room?"

"No.  I think I'll have no difficulty remembering it."

"Do you want vese?"  Alec held out an open palm on which were five shirt
buttons.

"Thanks.  I think they helped keep me sane."  He grinned at Alec, and took
the buttons.

"We often wondered what you were doing with vem.  Guys in that place always
find something to play wiv.  Sometimes it just a piece of cotton."

Alec led the way upstairs.  The sun was shining into the rooms, and
Jonathan found the glare strong.

"It's morning!"

"And `ere's a morning paper for you to read, while I get us a cup of
coffee."

Jonathan rather ungratefully grabbed the paper and looked at the date.  It
was Monday 15th September 2008.  He had been twenty one days in that cell.


Jeffrey at jeffyrks@hotmail.com