Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2007 11:47:02 +0200 From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com> Subject: Chronicles of a Destiny 4/9 (Young Fiends) ---------------------------- CHRONICLES OF A DESTINY by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2007 written on November 1, 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by John ----------------------------- USUAL DISCLAIMER "CHRONICLES OF A DESTINY" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest. ----------------------------- FOURTH PART 1982 - July Everything was finally ready. Saro with the other three went, with another car, to check the place where the kidnapping would take place. They carefully studied the place, the access and escape roads, the lateral branches. They prepared the car to leave on the spot, that would be put crosswise in the middle of the road with two of them crouching down as if they were changing a tire. The hostage car had thus to stop and their other car, following it, would block them from behind. Two men before, two behind, and the hostage would be trapped. They studied the plan very carefully and also all the possible unforeseen events. All had to happen in very few minutes, it was of fundamental importance. And with the one blocking the hostage, he should not have any possible way of escape. Damiano was feeling somewhat nervous. He still didn't know who the hostage would be, if a man or a woman, a youth or an old person... he had to be very rich for sure, that was the essential thing. Saro told his brother in law, that is to Damiano's father, that his son would have to do some work for him and that therefore he would be absent for a long time. He made him understand that it would be better if he didn't ask him or his son any questions because the less he knew the better. Vincenzo understood at once that it had to be something illegal, and nodded. Damiano had very carefully studied all the land around the cave and the possible escape ways, and from which a danger could come, that is from searches by the police and carabineers. He studied the place both by day and by night. He now knew the place inch-by-inch, root-by-root, branch-by-branch, stone by stone. He could therefore move in it even in pitch darkness, what he anyway checked and that he was able to perfectly do. A few days before the kidnapping, Saro taught Damiano to use a pistol - he would always have one on him. This troubled the young man a little... he would have preferred to have to use just his trusted jack-knife. And lastly, they tuned up all a set of signals and calls. And finally the order came by telephone, with the date and the hour. So in the early morning, Damiano went to the cave and shut himself inside it. To while away the time, he verified all the supplies once more, then the caravan toilet and the spare chemical cartridges. Then the transistor radio he had bought also, the gas lamps and the battery ones. And he sat on one of the chairs, in waiting. ------------------ Silver opened the door of Giampaolo's room. The boy greeted him with a smile. Silver locked the door, went near his friend, they embraced and kissed. "On time, as always." Giampaolo said. "Sure. And you more beautiful than always." Silver answered starting to unbutton the boy's jeans. They undressed, lay on the bed and started to make love. Silver told him about his last adventure with a Norwegian sailor, with a wealth of exciting details. "Take me as the sailor took you..." Giampaolo suggested, aroused. They went on to make love. Giampaolo told him about his last encounter with his young surgeon. "Go on, put it all inside me as you did with your young doctor..." Silver invited him... But at the end, they preferred to come doing a juicy sixty-nine. Then they caressed for a while, smothering each other with kisses, chatting and jesting before they dressed again. Giampaolo loaded the big bag with his clothes to launder in Silver's car and then they left. As usual, they stopped at the small restaurant midway to have supper together. Silver looked at his watch. "Are we late?" Giampaolo asked. "No, in time." Silver said while he paid at the cash desk. They continued on their way. When they were again on the country road, Giampaolo bent to give a kiss to Silver, who returned it. But then he said, "We have a car behind us... I think they saw..." Giampaolo looked back, "Do you care? It has a foreign number plate..." "Well, then give me another kiss." "Alright, but look at the road..." They took the detour towards Giampaolo's village. As usual at that time there was nobody on that road, so Silver speeded up. "That's odd, the strangers are following us." Silver said, looking in the rear-view mirror. "They have possibly become curious seeing to men kissing... and perhaps they too are gay..." Giampaolo said, laughing. Then everything happened all of a sudden. Silver found the road blocked by the car put crosswise and at once jammed on the brakes. The foreign car behind them pulled up short. The two men crouching near the car who seemed to be trying to change a tire, stood up, turned and went towards them - they both had their face covered by a balaclava and had in a firing position two black submachine guns. "What the fucking..." Silver exclaimed. >From the car behind them the other two came out, also with balaclavas and submachine guns. >From the open window they heard a voice, "Don't move and hands above your head!" They complied. Giampaolo whispered, "A robbery?" The voice resumed, "Giampaolo De Penne, out of the car!" "Oh shit, a kidnapping!" whined Silver going pale. While Giampaolo was getting out, they also opened the other door. Two seized Giampaolo and tied, gagged and blindfolded him. The other two tied Silver to the seat. Then they bodily put Giampaolo into the foreign car then all the four men got in. The voice yelled, "We will turn up for the ransom!" and the foreign car, with a sharp turn set out fast in the direction from which it had come. Giampaolo was lying down in front of the rear seats and could feel the legs of his kidnappers against his body. His heart was beating madly and uselessly he repeated inside his head, "Calm down, calm down, calm down..." Twice he was transferred to another car. He didn't have the faintest idea where they were taking him as he could see nothing. And the noises he heard were telling him nothing. He could not evaluate the route. They could have run for kilometres almost in a straight line, or they could just as well have been going round in circles... It was totally useless to try to understand where they were taking him. It was up to the police to find him... or to his family to pay. Then they made him get out. This time they tied a rope round his neck. "If you try to play smart, you will strangle yourself." The same voice said. The accent was not of his village, but was anyway of the region. They guided him keeping him tight by his arms. One had to walk in front of him and another behind... they walked for a long while. They had to be in a rather steep forest, he often stumbled and he didn't fall only because strong hands were holding him up by his arms. Nobody was speaking. After a long time they stopped and the one in front of him threw a set of calls, imitating with his voice the cuckoo. He repeated it several times, in a rhythm. After a short while, a similar call answered. They resumed the walk. A second cuckoo call, a second answer. Now only one of the men was keeping him. He understood they were entering an enclosed place. They stopped. He was pushed and almost fell on a bed. They put him a handcuff on his wrist and closed it with a sharp click. They pulled away the gag from his mouth. Then he heard some footsteps, the noise of a key turning, then silence. Giampaolo remained still, silent, his heart beating crazily. After a few minutes, in a quiet voice, he asked, "Anybody here?" "Yes." Came the answer. Silence again. Then the voice asked, "Can you manage to pull off your blindfold?" Giampaolo took it off. He screwed up his eyes - a strong white light was coming from a camping gas lamp. "May I move?" he asked. "Slowly. And without getting off the bed." The voice answered in a neutral tone. Giamapolo sat up. And saw him. A balaclava on his face, sitting on a chair near a folding camping table, a pistol in his hand leaning on the table. He looked around. He was in a cave. He saw the food crates. "What's your name?" his warden asked. "You don't know it?" "No." Giampaolo didn't tell him. "Anyway I'll get to know. Just not to call - hey you!" "Giampaolo." "I... call me Rat." "... sewer rat." The prisoner said. "As you like." The other, quietly, said. "How old are you?" "But you don't know anything?" "No." "Twenty-two. But you too are young." Giampaolo said. The other didn't answer. Giampaolo was suddenly feeling oddly calm. He looked at the handcuff, at the chain. Then asked, "Can I pull the rope off my neck?" "Sure. Throw it at my feet." Giampaolo did it. Long silences. Few words. Again long silences. Giampaolo's captivity had started. ++++++++++++++ 1982 - August In the cave there was a muggy air. Giampaolo was sitting in silence on his bed. Damiano half-stretched on his bed, was smoking a cigarette and had his radio earphone in his ear. A month had elapsed. They had exchanged very few words. Giampaolo had protested when he discovered they had to evacuate in front of each other. Damiano said laconically, "I too." And all ended so. Damiano had looked at him while he was lowering his trousers. But also Giampaolo had looked at Damiano doing the same. They ate one at a time. When Damiano was sleeping, he shortened Giampaolo's chain beforehand and also put a manacle around one of his wrists, so that he could not get off the bed. But he usually left the chain long. But Giampaolo, before moving, had always to say so. The behaviour rules had come out a little at a time. Giampaolo had assimilated them fast. The others were coming in turns, one every three or four days, always hidden with the balaclava, like Damiano. They talked very little. They brought fresh food and took away the used toilet cartridges and the rubbish. They also took to Damiano some newspapers, and he afterwards let the prisoner read them. But from the newspapers often a page was missing. Giampaolo understood they were the ones where there was something regarding his kidnapping. All long the first month, Giampaolo had felt calm and cool. "What's my family doing?" "Negotiating." "I hope they don't pay." "So much the worse for you." "How much did you ask them?" No answer. Damiano lowered the light to the minimum, and Giampaolo understood that the Rat wanted to sleep. But he oddly hadn't shortened his chain. And this time the prisoner heard this warden's bed emit a light, rhythmic squeaking. He tried to look in the thick gloom but could distinguish nothing. But he understood. "You're wanking." He said. "Yes, sure." Damiano answered, but stopped. Then he get off the bed, drew near that of the prisoner. Giampaolo saw that from the unbuttoned fly of his warden was jutting out his member, stiff, straight, hard. "You like it?" Damiano asked. "What fucking..." "You're a faggot, aren't you?" "No." "Bullshit. They told me. You were kissing with that one... and he was not a girl." "My fucking business." "Do you want it in your ass?" "No." "Come on, I know you like it." "You're a pig." Damiano, as an answer, stretched out a hand and felt that Giampaolo, in spite of himself, had a hard-on. "See, you're hard just from looking." "Fuck yourself!" "Let me fuck you, come on..." "You've the whip hand, don't you? Rape me..." "No." "Then leave me alone." "If you let me fuck you... I'll make you to enjoy it." "I rather wank myself." "Do so then..." Damiano answered and went back to his bed. After a while the boy started again to masturbate himself. Giampaolo still had his eyes full with that beautiful, turgid member and was aroused. He would have liked to take it in his hands, in his mouth, even in his ass... but not from his warden, who was now beating it on his bed. He heard him panting heavily. Then the silence. When he heard his deep and regular breathing, Giampaolo, still aroused, pulled it out and started to slowly masturbate himself. He didn't notice Damiano's eyes, pretending to be asleep, spying on him. ++++++++++++++++++ 1982 - September "I can't stand it any more!" Giampaolo yelled. "If you do that, it'll be worse." Damiano said. "But I can't stand it..." the other whined, with a peevish voice. "I thought it would end faster..." Damiano murmured, almost as if apologizing. "Nobody gives a shit for me." "That's not true." "Yes. My father cares more about his money than about me." "No... don't say so." "That's the truth, Rat." "I should not tell you, but...then, what harm if you know it... but the judges have blocked all your father's goods. And he is now searching for the money around..." "How much did you ask him?" "Two billions..." "And where can he find them if everything is blocked?" "Doesn't he have money in Switzerland?" "What do I know." "They will negotiate... they will reach an agreement..." "If they don't? Will you kill me?" "Don't say bullshit. Dead, you're of no use for anybody. And then, we are not murderers, not us." "No, you're good Christians!" Giampaolo said. Damiano didn't catch his sarcasm, and said, "Yes, sure, we are." "And why do me violence, then?" "Violence? Who does you violence? We are treating you well, aren't we?" "Treating me well? You kidnapped me, isn't this violence? You keep me chained as a dog, isn't this violence?" "No, you're just a prisoner. Like at war, or in jail..." "But in jail there are criminals. And they are treated better then me, they have everything. Am I a criminal? No. But I have to wash myself out there, in chains, just with a sponge... And it's now more than two months I wear these clothes, and they smell... Isn't this violence? And I have to shit in front of you..." "What do you know about real violence? You who are used to live like a prince? What do you know? Violence! And you call this violence. But what do you know?" Damiano said, upset. "Why? Do you know anything about it? You who are just a screw, Rat?" Giampaolo said in a challenging tone. "I? Do you want to know what I know about violence? Then listen carefully to me, young lord, open your ears well. Did it never happen to you, when you were five years old, to steal a piece of dry bread at home because you were hungry, and to get so many blows with a belt that you could not sit or lie down for a week? Eh? Tell me? And your father always comes home drunk, and kicks you because you dared sit on his chair, when there are plenty of free chairs? "Did it ever happen to you to go to school in the morning, then work hard from one till eight, then to study up till four in the morning, all during the primary and the middle school? And then to have to stop, even though you loved studying, and wanted to go on?" "Just that?" Giampaolo asked, surly. "No. No, it's not just that. Did it ever happen to you, when you were thirteen, to be raped by your father, and having to take it in your ass almost every day, for three years, even though you didn't want it? And when you told it to your mother and elder brother, to be thrashed by both of them calling you a liar, a pig, and to be... to be... to feel just the desire to die each time your father fucked you? Eh? Tell me!" Damiano almost screamed, interrupting with a sob. Giampaolo was looking at him agape, his eyes wide, "Do you really mean it, Rat?" Damiano vigorously nodded several times. "Your father?" Giampaolo again asked. "Yes, him! And before me my older brothers. And after me, when I was starting to breath again as he had stopped it with me, it was only because he had started to do it to my younger brother... But then I showed him a knife and told him that if he dared touch one of us once more, I would slit his throat... I should have done so before... But I was just thirteen, and scared, and ashamed, and I was feeling filthy... What do you know about violence?" They kept silent. After a while, Giampaolo said, "Yes, you are right. But what I have to do with all this? You received violence, but not from me..." "You... it's not you, Giampaolo. It's money. If I get the money, I can go away, far away, at the other end of the earth... and have a new life." "My life against the money. Against your life?" "You just happened to be in the middle of it. Nothing personal." "But I'm feeling I'm getting crazy, here, Rat." "And it's just two months, not even three. I thought I was going crazy for years. And I could not talk with anybody, open myself with anybody. And yet, I've overcome it. You'll overcome it too... And you at least... you can talk with me." "This is he first time you and I are really talking." "I'm one of few words. And you're surly." "Because life made us enemies. You the screw, I the inmate. Enemies, Rat." They kept silent for a while. Then Damiano said, "When I go back home, I'll look for some clean clothes for you. We are more or less built the same." "When you go home... I don't like the one who relieves you." "Why? What do they do?" "Nothing." "They tried it with you?" "No no. Only you tried it with me..." Giampaolo said with a half smile. "I just thought you needed it... as I need it. I saw you wank, when you thought I was asleep." "I see you too... or rather, I hear you." Silence. Then Damiano said, "Do you want to listen to the radio sometimes? Music? If you want, I can sometimes lend it to you... A little each..." "Possibly. Time never passes." "Also for me it never passes. I too am a little like a prisoner." "Will you really bring me some clean clothes?" "Sure, I told you." "I need to move, to breath some fresh air..." Giampaolo said. Damiano looked at the watch, "Later. There is still light, outside." "I would like seeing the sunlight. You, at least, once each week can go out..." "That's true. But in daytime somebody could pass and see you. Also if it's difficult. But we cannot risk it." "Not even if I swear to you that..." "If it was me the prisoner, I would perjure myself, in order to get free..." Damiano interrupted him. "You're right, I too..." Giampaolo admitted with a smile. "You're beautiful, when you smile." Damiano said. "I can't say the same about you. You're always masked." "I can't be recognized, can I? No. For sure it is a nuisance. The first days I was itching all over my head but now I'm getting used to it." "One can get used to anything, right, Rat?" "Almost everything. Being raped by his father... no." "It burns you still very much?" "Less." "I think I would have killed him." "I too, now. But after all, he's a poor devil too." "You justify him?" "No. I forgive him." "Are you such a good fellow?" Giampaolo asked with subtle irony. "No. But I'm aware that at times life leads us to do weird things... like me being your screw. And if instead I was born in another family, we could have been school-mates... friends..." ----------------------------- CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5 ----------------------------- In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://andrejkoymasky.com If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at andrej@andrejkoymasky.com ---------------------------