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Subject: {ASSM} "Night Prowler" NP-CH4.TXT {Mm, abduction, oral, enema}
Date: Fri, 3 Nov 2000 13:10:04 -0500
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________________________________
An erotic fantasy: Night Prowler
Chapter 4: Of Risk And Of Desire
The neighboring herd of dogs barked relentlessly. The moon had
been building. It was a little over half full. These two factors
work against me. The intensity of the moonlight was just enough to
partially illuminate the surrounding area with shadows, which
tends to keep the dogs barking. Especially when there are many
dogs as there are here tonight. I've been sitting here for fifteen
minutes now waiting and watching. All is still except for the
hounds.
It is 3:24 AM. Everyone surely must be slumbering this Tuesday
morning. Except for me.
I open my car door and silently exit and close the door only so
that the interior light goes out. I open the trunk as quietly as I
can and take out my bag, before lowering, but not latching the
trunk lid.
The attention of the hounds is down the street. It sounds like
they have a cat cornered. I quickly proceed across the dew laden
grass. It hasn't been cut in awhile, but I imagine that his legal
problems have demanded his attention recently. I stopped in some
hedges growing at the corner of the house and slip on my stocking
and gloves.
My pulse is racing. My breathing is erratic rendering me somewhat
breathless. Surveying the surrounding houses for lights I decide
to go for it now. Now is the time, this day and this hour, or none
at all.
I ease up to the back door. The porch light is on. Within a second
of arrival I have it unscrewed and only the willowy shadows of the
moon find me now. I take my pen knife and slowly pry the weather
strips off of a lower pane in the door. With silent precision I
remove all four and begin to scrap the soft grout that seals the
pane into place. The texture is slightly stiffer than play dough.
It is made to firm, but to stay pliable so that repairing broken
windows is simple. This window is not broken however. It takes
nearly twenty minutes to quietly remove it.
Patience is difficult for us all in todays society. To remain
patient while your ass is hanging in the wind like this is
extremely difficult. I am visible, so the longer I'm out here on
the porch and the longer that I'm here at all will determine the
overall risks of being caught and losing everything. This is
tempered by the fact that the adrenaline induced temptation to
hurry can lead me to make mistakes, such as waking the prey or
breaking the window pane of leaving the one minuscule clue that
can be traced back to me.
I freeze and listen. My pounding heart and the hounds are the only
sound that I hear. I reach in and slowly turn the deadbolt. I
reach up to see if the chain is set; of course it is. I do my best
with this noisy device and lower it so that it hangs free. Then I
turn the lock on the door knob. All is still quiet.
I pick up the pane of glass and replace it, pushing firmly to
reseat it in the putty that remained on the door frame. The outer
putty had come off neatly in strips. I reapply them and firm the
putty to form an outer seal. Then the weather strips go back on.
It's a cinch, even in the dark. Perhaps you should examine your
own windows and see just what is required to remove and then
replace a pane without detection. It is easy.
I decide to slip off my shoes. No matter how lightly I might tread
shoes are noisy. Footsteps can bring even a heavy sleeper to bear.
I open the door and step in, pulling the door closed behind me. I
removed the chloroform and the cotton mask that it is applied to.
before slowly moving one foot, and then the other. I ready my
taser, perhaps I'll need it.
I ease over to the couch. He's not here. My body slowly pivots,
directing me to the bedroom. I can now hear the slower breathing
sounds a sleeping victim might make from the hallway.
I freeze. Straight ahead in the bath room, I could see through the
window that a two rooms had lights on next door. The house was
dark when I arrived. Got_damn! Someone just turned on the porch
light. The dogs have moved back down and evidently woke someone
up.
My position is a weak one. I have not checked the details that I
should have checked out before embarking. Hell, I don't even know
if he is alone. Now someone is awake. This is someone that
possibly can identify a strange car in the alley or witness my
exit if they are awake and look out a window later. But hell, what
if my pigeon wakes up too?
I remained motionless for twenty painful minutes. It is now 4:05.
I could only think of how badly this caper was planned. I should
have arrived an hour earlier to allow extra time. 4:45 is my
limit. I must be free and clear at 4:45, which is the earliest I
_guessed_ anyone else would awaken. A guess is quicksand to the
foundation of any op. I can back out and probably leave without
detection. If I go for it I must prepare and load the passenger
and then come back and in the dark bag anything that he would take
with him if he fled. If I leave medicine, or his contacts or
something like this then my plan will be flawed. I don't even know
if he wears contacts. As it is now, there will be no forensic
investigation. They will assume that he fled. If one thing, just
one thing strikes an investigator as odd a full investigation will
surely ensue. I feel vulnerable even in my stocking. A single hair
or a single fiber can turn me into a prisoner. I simply do not
have time to clean up before I depart. Visions of my trial filled
my mind. A complete winner. Or a complete loser. There are two
options. Only two.
I decided to quietly bail. At that precise moment I heard a car
door and then an engine crank. Voices, a lady on the porch saying
something about the grocery store and a mumbled reply from the car
before it backed out of the drive and left. It is 4:17 and the
lights are still on. I could not make myself turn. I had to at
least see. I am only seven feet or so away. I slowly shift my
feet forward. Standing in the darkened doorway I see the prey
fast asleep. I look once more, and as if a direction from an
entity somewhere, the lights go out just as I looked out.
Standing in the doorway brought back the long forgotten feeling of
night ambush back in the jungle. Patrols of three were sent out
each night to patrol the perimeter; search and destroy. I
volunteered for ambush and became somewhat of a specialist.
I detested the mindless daily routine of loading up, taking a
piece of ground and casualties and then turning around and
abandoning the ground. It was senseless. It was the only way that
we could engage the mostly hidden foe though. The VC were great
stealth fighters and they preferred the night. But contacts were
fairly rare at my post. And when there was contact it was we that
had the element of surprise. We hid and waited. They came to us.
Sitting or squatting in the jungle at night is terrifying. It's
either pouring down rain and otherwise quite or it's hot and
humid and every fucking thing alive is moving. All sorts of animals,
rats as big as dogs and everything else came out. Snakes would crawl
right up your back or up your leg. The spiders, the biting
insects, hell, there were no friendlies except the other two men
on the far sides of the post who were out on patrol with you that
night. The adrenaline rush of hearing all of the noises of the
jungle at night is distinct. I have it now, even though it is I who
approaches. Fight or flight, the hunter and the prey, but you're
never really sure which role you will play on any given night.
The three of us on my team did not use radios. That was a dead
giveaway. Is the noise an animal? Is it VC? Is it one of
the guys on the team? The temptation here was to open up on it
and not take chances. We lost a lot of good men like that. Why
they were walking was never clear. They got spooked most likely
and took their chances traipsing through the dark boobie trapped
jungle. Some found barrages of American M-60's.
I can only imagine what a spooked ranger moving through the noisy
brush felt like. It takes a hell of a lot to spook a guy like
that. Perhaps this is more the feeling that I have right now.
It is 4:20. Against my own judgement I open the bottle of
chloroform and wet the face mask. The smell fills the air. I move
more quickly, closing on the bed. I hold the mask on his face and
lay on him. It takes a moment for him to awaken and resist; it is
too late. He never stood a chance.
Taking out my penlight I begin packing. He has three suit cases
and a bathroom bag. I load all three, leaving what I would choose
to leave if I fled in the night. I take the bags to the porch and
decide to carry them out first, so that I can make certain that
I'm alone. I make two trips, loading my back seat. Then I return
and load up the passenger into the trunk. Quickly I head back for
a last look around. I lower all of the window shades, so that the
cops cannot look into the windows. This will give me a couple of
extra days while they determine him missing and get a warrant. I
remove the bottom drawer of his bedside stand and place fifty hits
of the designer drug on the floor, before putting one hit inside
the drawer and closing it. If they find the single they will find
the remainder and draw their own conclusions. I left other drawers
and cabinets ajar, so that it appeared he left in a rush. I made
certain that all doors and windows were locked securely before
putting my shoes on and crossing the yard.
The got-damned dogs were now only fifty yards away. There were six
of them and they all cut loose barking at me. I ran to the car; like
a spooked ranger. What a cluster fuck of an op. I knew that never
again would I act with such haste. This is the one and only. In
contrast plain dumb luck can kill the best laid plan and evidently
if the dumb luck happens by the luck of the draw to be good, even
a badly laid plan can and will succeed.
The distant horizon began to glow as I scampered back home like a
vampire running late. I still have twenty six miles before I find
harbor. The upside is that they pretty much stop random stops
about now. The drunks are already passed by this time of the
morning. All I had to do was to maintain my speed within the
limits and ride it out.
My heart froze as I spied a state trooper car far ahead. The car
is so distinctive that there no doubt. There is one other vehicle
in sight. It's just the three of us. The limit was 50 mph. I did
50 exactly. Not too fast and not too slow. He is sitting between
the lanes of the divided highway, watching both directions. His
car points to the side I'm on, of course. My window is down. I
muster a lazy wave to him as I pass. He does not return it. He
simply stares me down. I travel several hundred yards before he
pulls out. Fucking shit! Did someone call me in? Fuck! Adrenaline
rushes through my system, which makes it difficult to hold the
wheel steady. Fuck! Fuck! Now I probably look like a late drunk
going down the road. He closes the distance to fifty yards quickly
in my lane. I'm just waiting for the lights. What a sick feeling.
Ahead is a convenience store. It's out in the middle of nowhere; a
mom and pop country store. I debate stopping, which is the natural
thing for anyone to do with a cop following them when they do not
want to be stopped or to continue. I could stop for a cup of
coffee, but this place might not even sell coffee. He'd certainly
pull in right beside me and I'd be caught. I continued down my
lane. Each mile was painful. He was sitting on my shoulder,
maintaining the close pursuit. Appleton is coming up. Crap, I have
to do something. I'm losing it. There is a pancake house ahead
about a mile or so. Should I stop there? Fuck! FUCK! Fuck!
I decide to maintain my course and speed. As we approach I'm
kicking myself in the ass for choosing not to stop. Fuck! It's too
late now. I would have to make an erratic lane change and left
turn and this would certainly light up his car.
I would have kicked my ass if I had though. At the last rational
moment it was the trooper who made an erratic lane change and left
turn. He had been cat and mousing me like all of the cocksuckers
do. There were two local cop cars on the far side of the building.
He was heading in to meet them for breakfast I imagined. He was
just bored and toyed with me to amuse himself along the way, while
instinctively looking to force me to make a wrong move at the
same time. I wasn't biting though; fate again smiled at me.
I can just imagine myself having stopped and eating breakfast with
a shitload of people trained to recall things like that. Fuck!
The rest of the trip went smoothly, even though the sun was up now
and I was out of my natural element. I locked the gate and pulled
over the hill to the same spot I'd stopped only two weeks earlier
when I brought the girls home. The road was clear in both
directions. The morning was cheerful and sunny. I got back in and
headed home with a strange confidence. For it was a completely
unearned confidence. I justly did not deserve to feel secure. Deep
inside I was comfortable though.
Once the garage door closed I popped the trunk. I checked to make
certain that he was breathing all right. Everything seemed fine so
I picked him up by the legs, turning so that his wiry frame
hunched over my shoulder. I'd guess he weighs maybe 130 wearing only
his underwear like he is.
I trudged upstairs (why the hell hadn't I put the entrance on the
bottom floor), opened the panel and began opening doors downward
into the basement. I put the entrance upstairs because I am the
gate keeper of course. I keep the gate.
Once in I opened the door to his room. I had put Vicky and Christy
together in Christy's room before I left. They had no idea that
there would be another guest. I owe no explanation. The fourth
bedroom is still stocked to the ceiling with supplies I'd bought
to hold us.
Once I had him laid down I locked his collar on and attached it to
the chain on the head of the bed frame. My body was still shaking
as I briefly looked at him and closed the door. The night had been
a trying one, even though it apparently was a successful one.
I left, going to sit on the deck with a stiff drink. I had missed
most of our nightly fuck and training session in my absence. I had
only briefly looked in on them, checking their wounds before heading
out earlier. It was work time now. The time I normally have them
begin their shift of detailing the house. I'd have them unload the
spare bedroom and stack the supplies between the security doors in
the stairway. Yep, that's what I'll do.
Shortly afterward I drifted off in the chair. I had been both
emotionally and mentally sapped of energy I guess. Or it was the
flip side of the adrenaline rush, I dunno. I slept well into the
day.
It's 2:05 PM. Damn. I stood and stretched before I could really
debate the issue with myself. Flipping on the tube I saw that
everyone was awake, and er, waiting on me. That's ok, they will
wait on me. The girls would be tired. I already had them trained
to serve me nights and mornings and to sleep afternoons and
evenings. It was about their bedtime. I'll gave them a short
shift. We squared away the supplies and they did floors, laundry
and the kitchen and I sent them to bath and bed.
In the central area alone, I sat and contemplated opening the
door. Fuck, I'm not really gay. But I am aroused. What does that
mean? He's a cute little fucker. He will be for sure.
I decided on a low key, yet over powering entrance. He was pretty
frightened as the door opened. His face was white. I cuffed his
arms behind him and put on a head harness and ball gag, while
ignoring his babble. Unhooking his collar chain and I stood him
up and placed a leash to the harness. Taking him in tow I gave him
a chance to use the bathroom before heading to the exerciser.
Going out in broad daylight was risky, but the overall risk was
small. I wanted to get started on the right foot right away.
I clasped a lead onto his head harness and tightened the strap, so
that he stood straight under an arm of the exerciser. I slit both
sides of his underwear. They dropped to the ground. He struggled
vainly for a bit. He really couldn't do much. He was stretched
taught. I do not know why, but by the time he quit struggling his
dick was hard. It wasn't quite rock hard, but it was on up there.
And the little prick has a bigger prick than mine. Oh well, we're
not here to have a pissing contest.
I took the whip and popped it a few times. I followed him around a
few times before instructing him on his gait. He was terrified. I
explained the situation to him calmly. He would have it here far
better than in prison and the system probably would have found him
guilty on circumstantial evidence alone. That's what is so wrong
with our system. It perfectly executes or perfectly hardens the
victim who was sentenced via a highly flawed system. Don't get me
started on that..
His cock was hard and it bounced all around as he stepped. The
attraction made me dizzy. It simply should not be.
I left him hoofing it as I got a drink. I returned and gave
direction from the sideline and enjoyed my drink. His gait
improved dramatically. Stunned, I watched in disbelief that he
performed so well and so quickly. I have a Tennessee Walker here!
I got another drink, and then another totally impressed with his
efforts. I brought the bottle out and took him to the shed to be
hitched. He seemed to understand right away as I attached the
bridle to the sides of his head harness. I looked down at his dick
before I left. The embarrassment of the hard on distressed him
somewhat.
Taking the reins I went back and got into the drivers seat.
"Get your knees up. Make it pretty for me boy and I'll make this
easy for you.. "
POP!
He came out of the gate with style. Although he was wiry he
possessed much more strength than the girls. He pulled better than
a team of two girls.
Riding in a coach is divine. If there is a downside it is that you
cannot view the scene from the ground. The ground view is
impressive. I can see the back girls ass. And when stopped I can
see the wetness dripping down her asshole. Tonight I see the ass
of a young frat asshole and his balls dangling between steps.
Every now and then his dick swung down low enough to be seen from
behind. His gait was more brisk. The humid air cooled my body as I
moved through it. I finished my drink and lit a joint before
pouring another. We went hours. His form was perfect and I relaxed
for the first time today. The breeze made me lazy and content. The
booze solidified my resolve. I was shitfaced.
I reined him into the shed. He had hardly dribbled from the gag
and was only slightly winded. This guy must be a distance runner
or something. He would require hobbling for sure when outside. The
fucker could run me into the ground. And we cannot have that.
I hooked him to the exerciser after we finished, so that he could
cool down. His steps were still high and crisp. I watched for
another ten minutes as he cooled down, before leashing him and
leading him back downstairs, past the supply laden hallway and
into the bathroom. I added soap and filled an enema bottle as I
explained the routine to him, start to finish. His reaction
perplexed me. He had an " I'll take it as a man look."
I bent him over the sink and inserted the lubricated head. I
pumped it up and released the flow. He squirmed. The liquid most
likely was a little warm. The bottle drained quickly. I uncoupled
the enema hose, leaving the butt plug in and closed.
He high stepped for fifteen minutes, which mixed everything up good
before I had him stop. He was a clearly defeated prey by this time.
All dignity had been long lost. This is the most effective way to
strip dignity away completely. I can think of nothing so personally
invasive and so humiliating that the will to resist is lost
completely. This is good. This reduces corporal punishment
greatly and makes for a smooth transition, rather than the
physically abusive transition that most likely would occur
otherwise. While less than healthy, all things considered, I
thoroughly enjoyed my sessions with the girls. Each particle of
humility they lost I absorbed to the power of ten. It was a
transference; pure and simple.
He stepped to please and I found myself receiving again. I was not
certain that I wanted this transference. The fact that I was
receiving the same satisfaction now as I had with the girls
disturbed me. I tried to reassure myself that the bulge in my
crotch was due to the domination and not the sexual attraction as
I led him to the toilet.
I released the balloons and removed the plug. He struggled to
regain what small amount of composure that he could muster. I sat
him down and again he had to fight fiercely the urge to drain
himself. I watched him for several minutes, before I slowly took
off my shirt and jeans. His face was distorted as you'd imagine
considering the circumstances. It became tempered with fear as he
watched me undress. His eyes fixated on my hardened cock, as the
realization of what was to occur sunk in. I'd left this detail out
when I'd explained the procedure to him earlier. He lost the final
threads of humility he'd managed to cling to at this point. I
suppose it's not too different than the feeling a young guy would
feel as he was about to be raped in prison.
"This is to confirm our top/bottom relationship." I thought to
myself. Hell, I can get blow jobs from the girls literally around
the clock. This is to show him that he is the lowest rung of a
very tall ladder. My assurances rang hollow for some reason.
Approaching, I put my hand on the side of his cheek. I'd expected
him to turn his head and generally resist. He was still, however,
with the distressed look on his face. I was calm and patient, as
an older woman might break in a young virgin I imagined. I talked
slowly and soothingly telling him that this was a part of the
training and that he must serve me before he is allowed to
relieve himself. His eyes never left my cock, which was now about
six inches in front of his face. His mouth was slightly ajar from
the cramping I'd imagine. I pulled him forward and touched the
head to his lips. He made no effort to open further. I massaged it
a moment until precum began to flow.
"Stick out your tongue," I said.
He didn't want to, but he had come to accept impossible conditions
almost since he arrived. He offered it. I touched it, milking some
precum out onto it.
"There, that's not so bad now is it?"
He offered no reply.
"Have you ever done this before?"
He shook his head.
"Me either. I think we're doing pretty good so far."
That seemed to inspire him somewhat. I'm not sure if it was the
knowledge that he was not being forced to give head to a flaming
faggot or what. I eased in a bit and he took the head in. I
instructed him to keep his teeth off, using lips and tongue.
I looked to the mirror beside him to see a profile view as he took
it all.
NEXT: NP-CH5a.TXT
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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