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From: Misanthropic.Misfit@gmail.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Professional Jealousy - NC, M/m, Gay, Abduct, BDSM.
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Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2007 15:10:02 -0400
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This is a revised and completed first part of a fantasy i posted a little
while ago.  I'm a bit of a perfectionist with these things and if i
continue with this story you can expect ongoing revisions.  It is my first
story though so i would really appreciate any sort of feedback.  I'm
currently working on a new more hetro bsdm story which will probably be
less wordy and more popular though god only knows how long it'll take me to
get it here.  I'll probably post more of this one too eventually.  I have a
lots of ideas but you know how life treats our plans.

   Professional Jealousy

   Prologue

   Trent and Clarence had both worked as journalists together, but over
time a bitter rivalry had developed, especially on Clarence's side.  Both
were successful in their own right but Clarence had grown insecure and
resentful.  A series of humiliations had befallen him, the most bitter at
the hands of confident young men.  His long-term partner had just left him
but he was helpless to take the revenge he wanted.  This was because his
lover knew secrets which could destroy him, as well as knowing him well
enough to take real precautions.  Worse though was when in the same week
Trent publicly humiliated him by exposing serious errors in his recent
work. The older man snapped and set his plot in motion.  He would show that
cocky young snivelling liberal metrosexual!  He'd teach him how useless his
naïve ideals about power and equality really were.



   From a rich family Clarence was independently wealthy and he proceeded

   to put nearly all his time, energy and money into stalking and abducting
Trent.  He bought a new house which was relatively isolated, and a cheap
new car.  He bought them through a front company which he used for tax
fraud and registered them to a non-existent individual.  Though he'd always
been a workaholic, he took long term leave from the prestigious newspaper
he worked for.  Nobody was surprised, they all knew he was having personal
problems.  He let people know he was going on a long holiday overseas. 
However he employed a very expensive professional to take his passport and
have his holiday for him.  He grew his hair and a beard which he didn't
trim.  He bought cheap cloths he hated and wore them slovenly.  He
transformed himself.

   The decision to take action excited him and the action itself
exhilarated him.  He felt like a new man, energized, his wounds healed.  He
spent weeks following Trent everywhere he safely could.  He planned the
best way to take him and considered every contingency he could imagine.  He
became consumed by an intensity of passion that was new to him.  His task
was not always easy.  At times he considered ceasing, frightened he'd been
spotted or that he'd passed some perilous point of no return.  For the most
part though he knew he'd crossed a line and accepted it.  Indeed, with the
absoluteness of his intention alone he had crossed the line.  And he
understood it was from that very transgression he drew his new energy.

   Watching Trent, learning the rhythms of his life, Clarence's passion
hardened into a malevolent lust for this 'good time' intellectual who lived
with friends as if he was still an under-graduate, spending two or three
nights a week at his girlfriend's place and out at all hours, going to work
hung-over or worse, and still producing "good" work.  Late one night in a
moment of serendipitous initiative he found himself photographing Trent in
the embrace of some disco-bunny he'd emerged from a club with.  He'd smiled
to himself at the hypocrisy of the self-described "romantic."

   Eventually though he reached the point of commitment.  He had watched
long enough to have calculated the two or three best opportunities to grab
his target, and he had to choose a course.  At this juncture he was
gratified by his own lack of doubt, as he had half expected his resolve to
falter at the very threshold of commitment.  His only fear now though was
that of being caught.  The constant frisson of energy that this course had
granted him, that he had become addicted to, grew stronger still as he
decided on a plan.  Luck allowing it really wouldn't be too hard.  Trent
spent so many nights out with different friends that only at work would he
be immediately missed.  In the end it took nearly a week after he had
everything ready for the opportunity to present itself.

   It had been anxious work.  If he had been seen by his prey or an
eyewitness he wouldn't know about it till the police came to his door
wanting to search his home.  Not that he wasn't prepared for that
eventuality, but he didn't want to go to prison for his pleasure.  As it
turned out, it went so well it seemed as if fate was smiling on his
decision.

   It was a Friday night and Trent was alone on his way to his girlfriend's
place after clubbing with friends.  Clarence pulled the car up alongside
him like he'd planned at the darkest and loneliest point of his route.  He
introduced himself and offered a ride.  He had worked hard to control his
trembling, gripping the taser in his coat pocket for strength and
reassurance.  He needn't have worried.  Trent didn't recognize him at first
but once he did he accepted the ride without caution.  Not that Clarence
expected him to fear abduction, but it was a strange offer, strangely
timed, inappropriate at best.  He quickly realized though that the little
rooster was high as a kite without a fear in the world.  He hadn't even
needed to resort to blackmail with his photos.  The degree of bonhomie he
radiated was initially disconcerting to the older man; 'let's clear the
air' and 'bygones be bygones' and so forth.  He was rambling on so, that
Clarence had hardly even needed to dissemble.  He was so dehydrated by all
his dancing and drugs, he took the doped water he was offered without a
glance and drank it all down in a minute (luckily he didn't have a bad
reaction).  It all went like a dream though.  The stuff hit him in less
than ten minutes; he had hardly even needed to stall the kid.  By the time
he realized he'd been spiked it was too late.  Clarence had locked his
door. Trent was unconscious before they had even gotten home.

   Chapter One

   When Trent awoke he couldn't work out where he was.  Bright light burned
his eyes.  Deep instinct and discomfort instantly told him he was in
terrible trouble.  The after-effects of the drugs cloaked him in protective
confusion for long seconds, even as the discomfort in his limbs and his
inability to move them were lifting his heart rate.  Then he remembered
Clarence and the car ride and the drugged water.  It was crazy!  Even
though it seemed impossible, he suddenly knew what had happened.  His mind
railed against it.  He tried to wake up again, but this was reality.  As
his eyes begun to adjust to the light, panic was falling upon him.  Some
kind of bonds at his wrists and ankles held him spreadeagled with almost no
slack in his limbs.  Feeling the flat surface he was held against was wood,
he realized he was naked.  His stomach was turning to ice and felt as if it
was falling through the floor.  As he grew accustomed to the brilliance he
realized there were multiple light sources, but one loomed over him on a
sinister, medicallike arm, and this one dominated his view.  Squinting
around it he could see that he was in some kind of cellar or basement,
furnished in a way which only compounded his terror.

   The floor was concrete and the walls were dirty brick with fittings
corroded or broken.  The first thing he noticed though was a camera on a
tripod aimed at his prostrate form.  Disconcerting as this was the rest was
worse.  There was a spartan sink and toilet which called to mind a prison
cell.  There were a couple of wooden benches and racks, some shelves, a
pair of metal trolleys, some kind of framework suspended from the roof, a
cage and a couple of chairs, one a hideous dentist's chair with restraints.
Arrayed on most of this furniture was a profusion of different items, which
even if their exact nature wasn't apparent, were obviously designed for
torture.  For many seconds his terrified and now wide awake eyes moved
desperately from one object to another, horrified at each new discovery but
searching the room for something, somehow that might redeem this nightmare.
There was nothing.  Only a frightening arrangement of whips, straps,
paddles, clamps, masks, leather, rubber and dildos.  And that was just the
things he was able to easily recognize.  There was a frightening looking
electrical machine with knobs, dials, wires, electrodes and attachments. 
There was another tripod and camera.  Worst of all though was an
incomprehensible series of wooden, steel and leather devices which looked
as if they were designed for mutilating torture or sadistic execution.  It
was a room devoid of hope.  Within a minute he was hyperventilating.

   Straining his neck he saw he wore leather cuffs at his wrists and
ankles, attached by chains to the corners of the table he lay on. 
Desperately his fingers searched the chains and cuffs for a release but it
was an awkward impossible task.  Perversely, he felt stupid and
self-conscious doing it, knowing he was almost certainly helpless and that
the eye of the camera was recording what must be pitiful and amusing
struggles for his captor.  Panic and desperation trumped pride though and
as his horror seemed to reach its crescendo he twisted and pulled on the
restraints with all his might.  Of course all he earned was renewed pain in
limb and joint.  He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm down, forcing
himself to take slightly slower, deeper breaths.  He fought the
claustrophobic instinct to keep tearing madly at the restraints and to beg,
shout and scream.  He knew that if he was going to have any chance of
surviving this situation he was going to have to control his panic. 
Clarence wouldn't kill him would he?  But this room?  The crazy disguise
and the new car!?  It didn't look good.  Maybe it was some kind of sick
practical joke, revenge for exposing the extent of his plagiarism at work.
God, please let that be it.

   Trent lay like that for many minutes, struggling back and forth with his
thoughts, trying not to contemplate the room itself.  Terror cannot peak
forever though, and reaching some degree of relative calmness he found
himself staring up into the light above him.  There was some comfort in the
way it filled his vision and in the soft burn of its glare on his retinas.
He realized that he was trembling uncontrollably and that he was probably
going into shock.  It was then that he noticed the third camera.  He hadn't
seen it before because it was just behind the arm-light above him.  It was
much closer than the others and clearly pointed right at his face.  It was
the long microphone stretching beside and in front of the lens which led
his eye to it.  This last discovery broke the façade of control he had
managed to construct.  He felt a powerfully renewed urge to flee, to hide,
to beg and eventually, to weep.  Somehow the knowledge that there was a
closeup of his face, and that his every breathe was being closely recorded,
made him feel more naked than anything else.  Panic was welling up,
threatening again to overtake him.  He could feel his breathing grow
tighter and feared that if he gave release to the sob growing deep in his
throat he wouldn't be able to stop.

   He tried to forget about the third camera but it was impossible.  It
seemed to prevent him from recovering the degree of composure he had
previously achieved.  He felt like a bug on a pin under a magnifying glass.
Struggling to lie still and impossibly hide his emotions from what were
surely Clarence's sadistic and voyeuristic eyes, he felt a rage begin to
rise within him at the hateful injustice of his situation.  The anger was
like a blessing to him.  He let it overtake him, dwelling not on the
cameras, his nakedness or the terrible possibilities of his fate, but on
that vile, smug, complacent, arrogant, reactionary, evil bastard!  Just
because Clarence's lies and conceits had finally caught up to him, because
his prissy little toy boy had dumped him, because of god knows what other
ways he had fucked up his own life, he had decided to take this fiendish
revenge on him.  Him!  Who had only been doing his job and doing it well.

   Then an awful thought occurred to him.  What if Clarence had been doing
sick shit like this for years?  He'd always been a twisted old prick could
he be some kind of serial killer?  Trent's thoughts raced round and round
his brain in this torturous fashion for the two hours that Clarence left
him alone on the table.  All that time a sick knot of dread and anxiety
twisted and grew in the pit of his stomach.

   *

   Clarence on the other hand spent most of that time watching his victim's
progress with delight from his monitors upstairs.  He was so exhilarated he
could barely breathe.  He was like a little kid on Christmas Eve, except or
course that his cock was so hard it hurt.  He eventually freed it and gave
it some attention as he watched the young sap struggling with his new
situation.  Watching him make each new discovery while trying to stay in
control of his emotions filled his dark heart with joy.  Watching the
expression in Trent's eyes when he noticed the close-up camera and
microphone, and his subsequent agonies, filled Clarence with such great
pleasure that couldn't withhold release.  It was probably the best
self-induced orgasm of his life and it took him a minute to clean up and
recover his composure.

   Somewhat calmer he continued to watch his victim and reflected on the
best way to proceed with him.  He hadn't entirely decided what to do with
him in the end but he knew he didn't want to break him too fast.  He was
actually quite nervous beneath his excitement.  Not of being caught or of
Trent getting away, but of not playing this just right.  He knew there was
a great art to this and he was scared of not doing a fantastic job.  He'd
always been a perfectionist.

   After a little over two hours of the best entertainment he'd ever
watched, he decided it was probably time to reveal himself.  Trent had
stewed long enough and he didn't want to have to clean up any urine.  He
could make his prisoner clean up his own mess of course, which
psychologically speaking had its own advantages, but he wanted to keep him
in constant bondage for as long as possible.  So, forcing his mind from the
hundreds of possible things he wanted to do to his new guest, Clarence
turned off his equipment and slowly made his way downstairs.

   *

   Trent started at the sounds from upstairs.  His heart raced anew as he
clearly heard a lock and a door, then footsteps descending towards him. 
Staring at the solid old door which was the only entrance to his room he
found himself praying Clarence was actually alone.  He heard the jingle of
keys, then the rattling and clicking of a latch, then another.  It seemed
to take forever.  He could feel all the panic he'd struggled against
threatening to overwhelm him again.

   Then there was his nemesis, looking down on him with a malevolent smile.
His eyes swept up and down his body with a brief but predatory appraisal.
Ice ran down Trent's spine but he didn't make a sound, only returned the
gaze with what he hoped wasn't a terrified and pleading look.

   "Welcome to my new place.  I bought it with you in mind."

   The room was warm, even in his nakedness, but Trent realized he was
shivering again.  He didn't want to ask.  He didn't want to hear the
answer. But he spoke;

   "Wh-what do you want?  What are you going to do to me?" His mouth was
dry and his voice sounded uneven and weak in his own ears.  He hadn't meant
to sound so pathetic and pleading.  Clarence's shark grin only widened.

   "Why, whatever I want Trent.  Whatever I want." He said slowly, tracing
a finger across his chest.  Trent couldn't help shuddering at this first
contact.

   "Please..." he whispered, furious at himself for being so weak but
unable to stop the words, "What do you want?  Really.  Can't we talk
about..." Even in his trauma the words felt like a cliché to him.  Forcing
some steadiness into his voice he finished, "Is there anything I can do?"

   Clarence's grin kept growing.  He pulled a chair up to the edge of the
table, careful to obscure the camera views as little as possible.  Leaning
in he slid a hand behind the helpless man's neck and gently lifted his
head, tilting his face toward his own.  His other hand began gently playing
with his hair in a mockery of tenderness.  He didn't answer immediately.

   "Trent, let me explain things to you.  You're here pay for what you did
to me, as well as just for being such an arrogant little wanker." Here he
paused and brought his hand from his hair to his face, stroking his cheek
with his thumb.  He leaned even closer and spoke almost in a whisper. 
"Mainly though you're here to suffer for my pleasure."

   Trent just stared back in horror, unable to believe all this was
actually happening to him.  For a tense moment he thought he was going to
be kissed.  The urge to beg pressed upon him again but reason told him it
would do no good.  Even so his mind raced to find the right words which
might have some kind of effect on his deranged co-worker.

   Clarence finally leant back with a soft laugh, delighting in the turmoil
and fear Trent couldn't keep from his eyes.  Trent took a deep shuddery
breath, only just realizing that he had been holding it in.

   "That's right Trent, I have such plans for you.  You're going to stay
down here in my little playroom.  It's going to be your new home until
you've learnt your proper place." He was tracing his chest again as he
spoke but he stopped to gesture toward one of the large racks hung with all
manner of leather and rubber, adorned with straps, buckles, chains and
such. "I've got lots of new clothes for you to wear, to make sure that
you're constantly helpless.  In fact I hope you've been enjoying this
relaxing position you're reclined in because it's almost time to get you
into some proper bondage."

   Trent looked as if he was trying to speak so Clarence placed a finger
firm finger over his trembling lips to indicate silence.

   "Hush, don't be rude.  You asked a question, don't you want to hear the
answer?  If what you meant was, 'what can you do to stop me or change my
mind?' the answer is absolutely nothing at all.  However you can and will
be doing a lot for me." Here he paused again to enjoy the effect of his
words on the young man who had caused him so much trouble.  "Yes.  Would
you really like to hear what I have planned?  What you can, and will, do?"

   White as a sheet, Trent nodded imperceptibly.  Clarence continued with a
smile.  He spoke slowly and with emphasis, taking obvious delight in this
exchange.

   "In short, I'm going to train you to be my slave.  My, gay, bondage,
sex, slave." He said, lingering over the last words.

   At this point he actually had to cover Trent's mouth with his hand to
cease his exclamation.

   "Really, Trent!  Young people truly have no respect for manners these
days.  Don't try to argue or bargain with me - you have no say in this. 
Look at yourself.  If you misbehave with me here you'll be very sorry, I
promise you.  I know you're not naïve.  You know there are far worse fates
than slavery or death."

   Then his tone softened again.  The cruel smile however didn't waver. 
"If you're a good little boy though, you might come out of this with a
whole new set of experiences, and suffering little more than a bit of post
traumatic shock."

   He removed his grip from around Trent's mouth and wiped it on his jeans,
then arched an eyebrow querulously.  His poor guest however merely gaped
back at him.

   "Nothing to say Trent?  That's a refreshing change for you.  It seems my
special treatment is already improving your character."

   Trent couldn't repress a brief spasm against his bonds.  He glared at
Clarence, his face reddening.

   "You bastard!  How can you do this?  What about all those articles of
yours about moral values?  Didn't they mean anything?"

   Clarence suppressed a brief spike of anger at this outburst but his
smile never shifted.  "Ah, there's the Trent I know and loathe so well.  Do
you really think that you're going to be able to argue you're way out of
this?"

   Trent however was furious and terrified and wasn't able to give up so
quickly.  "If you do this to me then you're only proving me right.  You'll
be making a lie out of all the good work you've ever done!"

   "Trent, I'm not going to argue the relationship between the general and
the particular with you here.  We're not at work anymore.  You're in my
little dungeon." As he said this he placed his hand on Trent's waist,
drawing it slowly across his stomach until it rested on his navel, which he
caressed with his fingernails.  His touch continued the have the
disconcerting effect on his prisoner he sought.  "And besides, no one who
cares is ever going to know about this."

   He then drew his nails softly down from his navel till they reached the
wiry black hairs at the top of his thatch, which he caught between his
fingers and tugged gently upwards.  Trent surged uselessly against the
chains again.

   "No!  Wait.  What do you mean no one will ever know?  You said you'd let
me go if I did everything you wanted!"

   "Are you trying to stall me?" He moved his hand down to stroke his
victim's inner thigh.  "Eventually I'll release you.  If you respond well
to training.  But you won't be telling anyone about our special
relationship.  Apart from sparing yourself further humiliation, you have
the welfare of your loved ones to think about."

   The increasing proximity of Clarence's hand to his genitals proved
extremely distracting and it took some seconds for Trent to realize the
threat which had just been implied.  He was dismayed to recognize both glee
and lust in Clarence's eyes as he watched him struggle with the combination
of his vile words and his vile touch.  Then the villain's eyebrow was
arching again in mock curiosity as he anticipated his response

   "What are you saying?  You'll hurt Emma?  My friends and family?  Who?
What will you do?"

   "Calm down pet.  I didn't say anything of the sort.  I was just
suggesting that should I eventually release you, you might do very well to
properly consider the ramifications of your subsequent actions.  It's all
far too hypothetical at this stage though.  You've a long way to go before
you even earn your way out of this room."

   Before he had finished speaking he stood up and began to walk down the
table's edge, his hand trailing down inside Trent's leg to his foot's inner
soul.  Then, standing at the end of the table he took a foot in each hand
and grinned down at him.  Trent had stretched his neck up to follow the
movements of his tormentor.  Clarence playfully waggled his feet.

   "Cheer up droopy drawers!  It mightn't be as bad as you expect.  You'd
be surprised just how much a human being can get used to."

   Trent let his head fall back with a sob he couldn't suppress.  Clarence
just stood there with his feet still in his hands and enjoyed the view.  He
found himself reflecting that he was enjoying perhaps the happiest moment
of his life.

   "You know, you really are quite a handsome young man."

   Trent's head jerked up again.

   "And I like the way you're in good shape without all that over-buff
show-muscle which seems to be so fashionable these days."

   He let go of his feet and began walking around the other side of the
table, one hand drifting up the inside of his other leg.  Trent's head
continued to follow him.  He managed to barely flinch this time when his
hand skirted the edge of his groin, fingers tugging at his hair again.

   "When you first started at work I did wonder what it would be like to
fuck you.  However that changed after a while as I got to know you better.
Eventually I spent more time wondering what it would be like to rape you.
Now though, since you've become so high and mighty ...well now I want to do
sooo much more."

   Trent's felt faint, his mouth opening and closing slightly but
apparently unable to form words.  Clarence's fingers drifted back up over
his stomach to his chest where they hovered for a while, circling his
nipples in lazy figure eight.  He had stopped by his head and was bent over
slightly so he could reach all the curves of the helpless young torso
beneath him.  Trent was trembling with fright but was still silent, staring
back at him with wide dark eyes.

   "You poor little thing.  You're terrified aren't you?  It's okay, you
can get through this if you do exactly what you're told.  Although you will
be very sorry that you tangled with me Trent, you can survive this if you
learn to behave yourself.  You are going to be a good boy for me, aren't
you?"

   Clarence's voice was quiet and calm but the edge of threat in it was
unmistakable and Trent could see by the look in his eye that he expected an
answer this time.  He remained still for a few seconds before he nodded his
head slightly.  Clarence shook his head in response with a stern frown.

   "That's not good enough kiddo.  When I ask you such a question, I expect
sentence answers."

   There was another short pause before Trent broke eye contact and
answered in a small voice, quivering delightfully with uncertainty and
humiliation.

   "Yes, I'll be a good boy for you."

   "That's better.  It seems you're smart enough not to try and resist me.
Keep this up and you'll save yourself a lot of hardship.  Now, are you
thirsty?  Do you need to go to the toilet?"

   "Thirsty."

   "Good."

   Clarence rummaged about in a bag and produced another bottle of water
identical to the one which had begun this whole nightmare.  Noticing the
expression on Trent's face Clarence just laughed.

   "Don't worry, it's not drugged.  And even if I did want to drug you
there isn't anything you could do about it anyway."

   He put a straw in it and held it down to his mouth.  Trent didn't dwell
long on the risks before he was greedily sucking on it.  Being fed in this
manner accentuated how ashamed he felt of being so helpless and pathetic.
He felt like a wimp for giving in so quickly without a fight.  But what
could he do really?  How could he possibly fight in this position?  He had
to play along and try to gain Clarence's trust, hoping he would make some
kind of mistake and an opportunity would present itself.  He was still
hoping this was all some kind of malevolent bluff or practical joke.

   When all the water was gone the bottle was returned to the bag and
Clarence stepped over to one of the other benches and collected a few
items. Instantly Trent felt his pulse rising.

   "Now, before I put you into your new bondage, I have to secure you so
you won't be able to try and fight me or escape.  I could have drugged you
like before but I want you to be awake for this.  I think it's important
you get used to obeying me and realizing just how helpless you truly are."

   Trent's eyes searched the items Clarence held with trepidation.  There
was a lot of leather and rope as well as straps and buckles.

   "This will be your slave collar." He said, holding up a wide leather
collar with metal D-rings.  He also produced a small padlock.  "This will
keep it on.  I don't plan to ever take this off you while you're here."

   He slid it behind Trent's neck, fumbled a little for the correct angle
and notch, before it clicked in place.  It was tight and uncomfortable. 
Clarence then took a length of rope and threaded it through one of the
links at the back of the collar.

   "Just bear with me." Clarence chuckled, clambering up beside his head
onto the table with the rope.

   Trent flinched at the proximity of the boots to his face as they shifted
while Clarence worked above him.  He could hear clinking and saw that the
rope was being run through some kind of track-pulley system.  Clarence then
stepped down the table a little to adjust the close-up camera.  Soon he was
on the floor beside him again with the other end of the rope.  He let it
hang and grabbed another of the items he'd retrieved and held it up for
Trent to see with a mock gesture of politeness.  It was a heavy black
leather corset with some kind of strange dial on the front.

   "A corset.  To help with your figure." Joked the older journalist as he
laid it down on the table beside Trent's waist.  "Lift." He then ordered.

   It was the last thing Trent wanted to do, but after a brief pause he did
obey.

   "Good boy." Said Clarence, with another chuckle as he slid the
constricting garment beneath his waist.

   Trent felt a powerful swelling of hatred for Clarence, who was clearly
beside himself with glee.  With every glance, gesture and word he gloated
in his position of power over his former adversary.  But although he was
helpless to do anything about his rage, he still couldn't keep it from his
eyes.  Clarence caught the look and grinned back at his prisoner.

   "You'd really like to get your hands around my throat wouldn't you?"
Said Clarence as he began lacing up the corset.  "That's why you're wearing
this.  It will help keep you relatively helpless when I release your arms."

   As he finished up tying the corset, the pressure on Trent's diaphragm
had become uncomfortable but bearable.

   "Of course I do confess there is the simple pleasure of just seeing you
in a corset struggling to breathe."

   Clarence smirked and began adjusting the knob on the front of the
garment.  It gradually began tightening around Trent's waist, forcing him
to take shallower and shallower breaths.  He pulled at his chains again,
his face registering how unpleasant he found this new sensation.  Clarence
of course only continued slowly turning the dial, enjoying the play of
emotion's across his victims face.  Soon the pressure became too much for
him.

   "Stop!  Please, stop!" Gasped Trent finally.  "You're going to kill me."

   Clarence shook his head, continuing to tighten the corset until Trent's
eyes were bulging and his breathing a constant shallow pant.

   "Certainly I could kill you with this.  Even this setting is probably a
little dangerous, but I'll let it out after we get you in your armbinder."

   Trent then heard and felt a click through the device that was crushing
his guts up into his ribcage.

   "I'm just locking it on.  There.  Now I'll just get these ropes
situated..."

   Clarence then threaded more rope through rings at the base of the corset
and tied each side to points beneath the table, effectively anchoring Trent
to the table at the bottom of his waist.  He then took the loose end of the
collar-pulley rope and threaded it through a pulley and brake system
beneath the table so he could easily adjust and hold whatever tension he
wanted.

   Knowing that his arms were about to be released Trent was desperately
trying to calculate the odds of a successful escape attempt and the likely
consequences of failure.  With his arms free he had a chance, however
small, of overpowering Clarence.  Really though, it seemed more like a
futile dream considering he could barely breathe and his body below his
waist was still lost to him.  And he didn't like the look of that rope tied
to his collar one bit.

   Clarence produced a small key and proceeded to unlock the wrist cuffs.
Clarence stepped back slightly as Trent instinctively pulled his arms down
and brought them together, rubbing his wrists.  The new pain in Trent's
shoulders felt good as he rotated his arms experimentally.  Clarence didn't
give him time to dwell on his situation though, quickly drawing the pulley
rope taut.  Trent found himself painfully forced into an awkward sitting
position.  He was also suddenly unable to breathe.  Not because of the
unpleasant pressure at his throat, but because the tiny amount of room
beneath the corset disappeared as his body folded.  Almost as bad was the
terrible crushing pain.  He literally saw stars but couldn't even gasp for
mercy.  Instinctively his hands tore desperately at the corset but
predictably found no access.

   "Put your hands down!" Ordered Clarence, slapping his hands away so he
could relieve the pressure of the corset.

   Trent was already turning purple by the time his new costume was
adjusted enough to restore his shallow breathing.  Although it was barely
enough to repay his oxygen debt, his face gradually faded from purple to a
very flustered red.  It took all of his willpower to keep his hands away
from his waist and neck.  He had to show Clarence he wouldn't be trouble.

   "Now I'm sure you're keen to get out of that awkward and painful and
position, so if you'll just put your hands together behind your back we'll
get you strapped into this."

   He was holding up a long piece of tapered leather with straps and
buckles and with corset-like lacing along almost its entire length.  Trent
stared at it with a strange mixture of fear and resignation, knowing there
was nothing he could really do to stop Clarence, even though his arms were
free.  He had to gain trust to escape, he kept telling himself.

   Soon Clarence was sliding it up over both his arms and doing up the
straps around his shoulders and neck.  Once he had it on he was kind enough
to release the tension from the collar rope and loosen the corset a little
more.  He didn't take it off though, Trent noticed, even though it had
served its apparent purpose.  Trent found the novelty of the relief from
its horrible discomfort soon wore off though.  The corset still restricted
his breathing and obliged him to lean back uncomfortably on his trapped
arms to relieve pressure on this waist and lungs.

   Clarence meanwhile was contemplating exactly what to do next with his
prisoner and in what manner to proceed.  Eventually he decided on a
spreader bar above the knees.  First he attached new d-ringed leather cuffs
below Trent's thighs before he released one of the ankle cuffs from the
chains.  He then attached the shortened spreader bar to each cuff before he
released the other ankle so he could evenly align Trent's body along the
table again.  The young journalist was now held to the table only by the
corset itself, but even so all his limbs were once again neutralized.

   "Very good.  You're being a very good boy Trent."

   Clarence stood back for a moment to survey his handiwork.  Trent looked
absolutely delicious.  He seemed to be on the verge of panicking again as
he contemplated all the things which Clarence might be about to do with
him. He spoke up again, his attempt to keep the desperation from his voice
was both amusing and very appealing to his abductor.

   "No, wait Clarence.  You haven't gone too far yet.  It's not too late
for you to let me go.  You've already had revenge - you've hurt me and
scared the shit out of me.  What if..."

   He had trailed off as he had realized how much pleasure Clarence was
getting out of watching him plead.  He wasn't going to let him go.  At
least not yet.  He found himself praying that this was all still just some
vile practical joke.  But a prayer it truly was, for his instincts told him
all this was horrifyingly real.

   "Please." He finished, in a tiny voice.  "What are you going to do to
me?"

   "We've been through all this before." Explained Clarence happily.  "I'm
binding you to make you my sex slave and there's nothing you can say or do
to stop me."

   As he said this he widened the spreader-bar and drawing Trent's knees
painfully wide before locking it into position.  Trent groaned at this
painful new indignity and found his legs below the knees were now hanging
over each side of the table.  Before he had time to dwell on the
humiliating implications of his new position he was abruptly drawn up into
a semi-reclined sit as Clarence drew tension back into his collar rope.

   Clarence then returned his attention to the single-glove imprisoning
Trent's arms.  With some relish he began doing up the lacing as tightly as
he could, pulling Trent's already helpless arms together even more tightly.
As he realized what was going on Trent issued a helpless groan of distress.
Then, as the stringency of the device was making itself felt, he couldn't
keep from useless pleading.

   "Ahhh, stop!  Not so tight.  You're going to break my arms.  Pleeease!"

   Clarence ignored him and continued his work.  Trent began sobbing, no
longer able to withhold the extent of his distress at what was happening to
him.  It was so unreal.  It was so unfair.  Clarence returned to his seat
beside the table to enjoy his victim struggling to come to terms with his
new situation.  His elbows were now squashed together behind his back, his
knees were spread wide enough to twist his thighs almost one hundred and
eighty degree from each other, the corset remained crushing his waist and
the collar at his throat held his torso from the table and made his
breathing even more uncomfortable.  Trent was now looking quite desperate.

   "Please." He gasped.  "I didn't do anything wrong.  I'll do anything you
want, just let me go."

   Clarence just laughed; "You'll do anything I want anyway."

   He then reached forward and began to toy with a helpless nipple.

   "Anyway, I'm sure I overheard you boasting to Angela at work about how
good at Yoga you are.  Something about the importance of flexibility and
all that garbage.  I wouldn't have expected this to be so uncomfortable to
a yogi like yourself."

   He laughed again at his little joke and gave the nipple a short squeeze.
Trent's only response was a despairing sob.  Clarence was silent for a
while as he played with Trent's chest.  Trent continued to choke back sobs
and do his best to ignore Clarence's ministrations.  Although his
tormentor's touch was a minor indignity compared to everything else, the
very insolence and intimacy of it, in his helplessly exposed condition,
made him shudder with dread.

   "I wasn't boasting." He eventually whispered, struggling to control his
voice.  "She just wanted to know about Yoga."

   Clarence had a long laugh at this, apparently finding Trent's remark
particularly amusing.

   "Oh, Trent you're priceless.  About to be brutally raped and you're
worried about appearing vain." He leaned in closer, sliding his hand up to
his prisoner's neck and putting just a hint of pressure on his windpipe. 
The flash of fury that had appeared in Trent's eyes at the laughter had
vanished at the mention of rape.  As Clarence loomed over him he looked
away, eyes tearing up.

   "So, my little award winning journalist.  How do you feel about the
usefulness of soft power in this new predicament?  Why don't you tell me
how it all make you feel?  I know how much you believe in people being
honest about their feelings."

   Trent looked back into his eyes for a moment, but seeing only cruel
mockery there, he immediately lowered his gaze again.  His only answer was
another mournful sob.  For a little while Clarence lingered over his
co-worker, tracing the edges of his leather bindings and feeling the
tension in the muscles straining beneath his skin.  As he began to work his
way down past the corset Trent piped up again.

   "How long are you really going to keep me?" His voice was squeaky.

   "You can't hold me off with questions Trent." Chuckled Clarence.  "And
I've already told you that.  It depends on you.  If you don't do everything
I want you might never leave."

   "Oh God, what do you want?  You're talking in circles just to torture
me!"

   "But that's one of the reasons why you're here Trent.  So I can torture
you at my leisure."

   Trent began to cry again, this time with less control.

   "You're going to murder me aren't you." He sobbed.  It was more
accusation that question.  How could he have possibly imagined he would be
able to retain any strength or control in this situation?

   "Now don't get all hysterical on me." Chided Clarence as though he were
dealing with a child.  "Everything I have told you is true.  But you have a
good cry if you need to.  I understand that it will take a little while for
you to get used to all this.  You've got a lot of useless ideas from your
old life to let go of."

   Trent looked up at him with red pleading eyes but didn't say anything.
There was a question in them nevertheless though and Clarence knew what it
was.

   "Oh, all sorts of ideas." He anticipated happily.  "Just for starters;
ideas about your own power, dignity and independence.  About pleasure and
pain and good and evil.  Ideas about your own sexual orientation and about
me."

   Trent broke eye contact again.  He just couldn't hold his gaze anymore.
He choked off another sob as he forced himself not to cry.  His breathing
was very ragged though and it wasn't just from the corset.

   He sat helplessly on the table struggling to breathe and wriggling in an
attempt to relieve the discomfort in his crushed and spread limbs. 
Clarence attached more rope to the spreader bar and fixed it to another
pulley above the table.  Trent began to weakly protest as he realized that
further indignities were looming, but Clarence ignored him.  He released
the ropes that held Trent's corset to the table and the tension from the
collar rope.  Trent fell backwards with a gasp.  He then took hold of the
spreader bar and dragged Trent down the table until his hips were at its
bottom edge.  He lifted the bar above the table and backwards so Trent's
legs wouldn't gain any purchase on the floor and were spread wide above
him.

   Although Trent was no longer tied down, his bondage was too severe for
him to be able to make more than a feeble resistance to this rearrangement.
He now lay with his full weight on his crushed arms, his feet in the air
with legs spread at an obscene angle and his newly folded body once again
squashed by the corset.  He gasped and sobbed in his new position while
Clarence brought enough tension into the angle of the rope holding the
spreader-bar to keep Trent's knees raised high and pulled backwards.

   Leaving the near hysterically desperate Trent for a few moments,
Clarence spent a little time readjusting the three cameras to better record
the action.

   "I'll quit work!" Trent panted.  "I'll tell everyone I fed you those
stories.  I'll publish a confession that I set you up.  Please Clarence,
I'm sorry!  Just don't do this to me."

   Clarence stood silently at the end of the table again, grinning like the
Cheshire cat.  He ran his hands slowly from Trent's knees all the way down
to the edge of his groin.

   "I don't think so.  No.  This is just the right position for you Trent.
You look fantastic.  And that desperate conviction in your voice...  You
were always very earnest but now you're delightful.  It's wonderful to see
that you can be genuine without being pompous.  I'll concede that you
weren't a bad journalist, even if you were a liberal ideologue.  But you're
going to make a much better fuck-toy and slave-boy than you ever did an
intellectual.  In fact, I could build a fantastic pornsite just with the
material we're going to make together."

   "Oh God, I'm sooo sorry.  Please forgive me.  I'll do anything.  Please!
Just tell me what I can do to make things right." Even as he begged Trent
knew it was useless but it was instinct.  The only thing he really had left
was his voice.

   "I've told you how you are going to make things right.  First though we
need to clean you out."

   "No!  You're crazy.  People will miss me.  You'll be the prime suspect.
It can't be worth the risk, it can't be.  It's still not too late.  Stooop!

   Trent thrashed madly, hoping for some kind of miracle, twisting and
writhing to the extent his bonds would allow.  Clarence watched him with
amusement for a moment before he dragged over a chrome trolley with a pole
at one end hung with bags and tubes.  Its squeaky wheels were noisy on the
rough cement floor and added menace to the trolley's already creepy medical
air.  Trent stopped his struggles at the sound and stretched up to see what
was happening.  The veins in his neck and on his forehead stood out as his
wild eyes darted along the trolley and its contents.

   "Wow.  You really need to calm down.  I'm just going to give you a nice
enema before I give you a quick taste of your new function." As he prepared
all the equipment he would need for the process he continued.  "By the way,
I haven't got round to asking you.  Have you ever had anal sex before?  Of
any kind?"

   Trent had stopped his desperate struggling and lay relatively still,
panting like a sick dog and staring at what seemed an unnecessarily large
delivery 'dildo' which Clarence was fitting a water tube into.  He seemed
not to have even heard the question.  Clarence paused, giving him a hard
look.

   "I don't expect to have to repeat myself with you." His voice was
suddenly hard and very impatient.  Trent's eyes flicked up at the threat.
His mouth opened but he was silent for a moment.  His lower lip actually
trembled.  Clarence could see the terrible hesitation in his eyes as he
briefly warred with anger, fear, hatred and eventually surrender.

   "I...No...Not really."

   He quickly dropped his eyes again.  Clarence's smile widened.

   "Really.  What does that mean exactly?  Your girlfriend sticks her
finger up your arsehole occasionally?"

   Trent didn't look up this time, just swallowed another sob.  Clarence
waited a couple of seconds but he wasn't feeling patient.  He leaned
forwards and slapped him hard across the face.  Before Trent recovered his
wits, he pulled up the collar rope again bringing the poor boy's head up
against the spreader bar and leaving his body folded in a painful, bent
'V', only the very base of his back against the table.

   "I told you I expect an answer when I ask you a question!"

   Trent couldn't answer though, because he could barely breathe.  He gaped
and twisted pathetically, unable to relieve the deathly pressure on his
diaphragm.  Clarence let him suffer a few seconds longer before reaching
forward and significantly letting out the corset.  While Trent recovered
his breathe Clarence gave him a look which warned him not to equivocate
again.

   "Yes...yes!" he gasped out quickly, his voice taut with the pain of his
position.  "I've done a little bit of stuff with girlfriends."

   Clarence's smile returned.  He considered pushing this line of
investigation further - Trent clearly found it humiliating to answer such
questions.  However breaking him down like this was making Clarence so
horny it was all he could do to maintain his calm, casual demeanour.  What
he really wanted to do was fuck his helpless rival's virgin arse.  He could
pursue this particular psychological torture later.  He'd established
enough dominance for the moment.

   Even so, he maintained his patient approach and continued to torment his
victim with a slow torturous circling of his objective.  One doesn't gulp
down a fine meal in five minutes and Clarence understood how foreplay
synergized the act itself.  So before he plugged Trent with the enema
spigot he toyed with his utterly vulnerable rear.  He skirted his objective
at first, slapping, pinching, squeezing and stroking the helpless buttocks.
He worked Trent up into quite a lather before stroking a finger along the
inside of his cleft, lingering especially around the tightly clenched
little star.

   Poor Trent felt as if his mind was coming apart.  His panic had now
risen and fallen a number of times, and the often frantic struggling which
attended it had gained him nothing but further pain.  The strain in his
hips, shoulders and back from his bondage was terrible.  His arms were
beginning to feel numb and he was already feeling a taste of what were sure
to become horrible cramps if he wasn't soon freed.

   But Trent feared he might never be freed.  Exhausted and further
tormented by probing fingers and tormenting remarks, he was sinking deeper
and deeper into despair.  Even so, Clarence kept introducing little ways to
keep crushing his hope ever lower.  Now, in this agonizing, degrading
position, when he finally felt the vile, searching fingers at his twitching
sphincter, he wished for the sky to fall in or the earth to swallow him up.
He would have made any pact to escape the clutches of this maniac, but it
was useless.  He couldn't even withdraw into himself in numb shock, for he
feared Clarence would punish him with increasing severity if he didn't
respond promptly to his every perverted whim and sadistic request.  So as
the cruel bung was slowly and painfully inserted into him, although he
dreamed of Emma, of his home, of anywhere else, he had to listen to
Clarence's gloating, taunting voice.  At least, he tried to tell himself,
it would help to earn his trust.

   "Now, don't fight it.  If you just relax it won't hurt so much."

   This wasn't actually news to Trent but under the circumstances he found
it very difficult to relax.  It hurt a lot.  The painful, tearing feeling
that can accompany rectal penetration.  In some ways though the pain itself
was not as bad as the awful feeling of violation and sinking helplessness.

   Once it had sunk most of the way into him, the sharp pain stopped
because the stubby, hollow phallus tapered in toward its base before
flanging out again at the very end to form a seal.  Around this narrow neck
Trent's sphincter gripped down, holding the nozzle in place.  It wasn't
really so large as phalluses go, but it felt large enough to Trent.  It was
certainly wide enough that he wasn't going to be able to dislodge it
without help.

   "So have you ever had an enema?" Clarence asked, his fingers on the
release valve.

   "No." Trent's voice was flat and empty.

   "Aren't you lucky then?  I'm introducing you to all sorts of new
things."

   So saying, he let the water flow.  The butt plug had been a novel
sensation but having his bowels filled in this manner went far beyond it.
It wasn't painful at first, just mortifying and uncomfortable.  He was
being systematically violated, each act seemingly more invasive than the
last.  Highly conscious of Clarence's gaze drinking in his suffering, he
was initially able to remain relatively still and impassive.  At least for
a man excruciatingly bound and forcibly irrigated.  However, as the
pressure grew it became increasingly unpleasant.  His problem wasn't only
the pressing need to shit, the terrible bloating or even the humiliation of
the whole thing - it was the rolling cramps which began to move through him
after Clarence had filled him to bursting point.  They didn't make
themselves felt for a minute or two but after five minutes all Trent could
think about was shitting out the dreadful pain.  He strained to expel the
bung until his stomach muscles hurt, but to no avail.  It only deepened the
sickening feeling of helplessness he seemed to be drowning in.  In the end
Trent was once again groaning, sobbing and writhing for what little relief
it obtained him.

   Clarence loomed over, closely watching the whole process with great
enjoyment.  He explained to Trent that there were all manner of approaches
to enemas but that he had selected a liquid that would insure quite severe
cramping.  He wanted him to understand that the combination of pain and
degradation as well as the enema itself, were very important for his new
education.

   For his part, Trent resisted the urge to plead for some time, but
Clarence didn't mind.  Though Trent's eyes flashed with anger and hatred at
his words, in the end they were big, wet, pleading pools of anguish.  After
fifteen minutes of this torture, the cramps became so severe Trent was
certain that something was going very wrong inside him.  He felt like he
was going to die if he couldn't shit soon.

   "Okay, Clarence, pleeease!?  Take it out!  Please take it out! 
Something's going really wrong!  I can't take anymore!" he gasped out.

   Clarence sighed.

   "Goodness Trent, you really are becoming quite the little drama queen
aren't you?  You'll be all cleaned out in a few minutes."

   He reached forward and put his hands around the bottom of the corset and
pressed experimentally at different points.  He was rewarded with exquisite
squeals of distress.

   "It's quite a sensation isn't it?  I hope you're enjoying it because
you're going to be getting a lot more enemas while you're here.  And I'll
be using far more unpleasant techniques than this if you don't behave
yourself."

   Trent didn't seem to have anything intelligible to say in response to
this as he struggled with the overwhelming fullness.  After a few more
minutes of enjoying his tears and now limp struggles, Clarence changed the
bags and adjusted the valves.

   "There you are, you can let it all go now."

   The instruction was unnecessary though.  Tired and aching though Trent's
muscles were, as soon as they felt the release in pressure they bore down
on the alien contents and in a long, rapidly expelled stream they finally
gained relief.  Once he had finished Clarence sealed the waste bag and
deposited it in a small basin on the trolley.  He then quickly set up
another bag, this time of plain water, and readjusted the tubes to fill him
up again.  Trent was so exhausted by his first enema that he failed to
realize what was going on until the cold liquid rushed into him again.  He
cried out in horrified surprise and immediately began to beg and plead for
mercy in a weak but frantic voice.  Clarence impatiently told him to be
quiet as he was just giving him a final rinse out.

   A minute later the second enema was expelled, bagged and in the basin
with the first.  Clarence took a moment to savour his vanquished foe as he
'sat' on the edge of the table panting.  His body was as limp as the bonds
contorting his body would allow, his eyes closed.  They opened wide though
when he heard the sound of Clarence unzipping his fly.

   "That's right Trent, it's time to lose your virginity." He mocked as he
finally freed his straining cock.  "Are you looking forward to your first
proper arse-fucking?"

   Trent strained his neck to see down between his gaping thighs, unable to
get a good look at the penis that now threatened him.  However, he was in
no doubt about how unpleasant even a small member would feel where it was
never meant to go.  He couldn't help straining uselessly for freedom as the
awful thing vanished from sight.  Clarence pressed his cock lengthwise into
Trent's cleft.  He was rewarded with a short squeeze as Trent clenched in
panic, struggling even harder in his bonds.  Clarence chuckled in delight,
slowly moving his hardness up and down, enjoying the sensation between
Trent's trembling buttocks.

   Trent had never felt so alone, helpless and frightened in all his life.
He felt a renewed sense of despair, not just at the pain and degradation to
come, but at the dimness of the prospect of his escape.  Clarence on the
other hand was savouring every minute of this exquisite situation.  He
spent a couple of minutes enjoying the sensation and the look of horror and
fear on Trent's face, teasing them both with the immanence of consummation.

   Trent no longer had the strength to keep up his struggling though.  He
was soon reduced to the odd twitch and occasional twist, as Clarence
continued to enjoy his helpless rear.  His lips were trembling, and his
eyes were watering but he swallowed the sobs which kept rising in his
throat.  The urge to plea for mercy fell upon him again, but apart from the
desire to retain a shred of dignity, he knew it would only further
stimulate his captor.  Clarence read the moment and spoke up.

   "You're too smart or proud to beg, eh?" He took his dick from the man's
backside and pressed a finger against his helpless anus.  A shudder ran
through Trent at the feeling of his terrible new enemy touching him so. 
"That's okay.  Nothing can ruin this special moment for me.  Ready to open
up?"

   He pushed his finger very slowly through the tight ring until it
eventually reached the last knuckle.  Trent's face tightened and he issued
a soft grunt as he withheld a gasp.  Clarence wiggled his finger around and
was rewarded with a louder grunt of pain.

   "You really are a little pussy Trent.  That's nothing.  Can you imagine
what my cock is going to feel like?"

   Trent opened his squinting eyes but didn't say anything.  Clarence
twisted his finger violently, making him cry out.

   "I asked you a question you rude little pussy boy!" Clarence's voice was
suddenly hard with menace.  Even so Trent's angry, frightened answer came
quick as thought.

   "Yes, yes!  It's going to feel horrible, you bastard!"

   The look of shocked fear which instantly replaced the righteous fury
made Clarence smile.

   "Oh, you have no idea.  I am going to teach you sooo much."

   He picked up some lubricant and pressed his cock back against Trent's
arse, point first against the anus this time.  As he squirted the jelly
liberally around his cock-head, he explained; "I do this for my own
pleasure rather than out of any sense of mercy toward you." Then he began
to gradually force himself into Trent's tiny hole.

   Clarence was right.  This was worse than anything else so far.  The
tearing pain made Trent temporarily forget his aching, cramping muscles. 
It really felt like he was being very slowly torn apart.  Rationally Trent
knew he should be grateful Clarence was going so slowly, even if it was
only so he could better savour his rape.  However it only seemed to
lengthen the agony as Trent was slowly stretched.  Hyperventilating again,
he perversely found himself thinking about childbirth.  As a new adrenaline
surge gave his twisted, helpless body brief strength to struggle, his mind
raced in desperation for any kind of escape, but of course there was none.
Eventually he even tried to remember of pain management techniques that
he'd heard of, but he couldn't control his fear.  He knew that he needed to
relax but his every instinct was screaming at him to escape or fight. 
Anything but relax.

   Halfway in Clarence paused to enjoy the grip of Trent's muscles
instinctively bearing down on him in the vain hope of expelling his
intrusion.  "How is it for you?" he asked with a cruel sneer, his voice
tight with pleasure.

   Trent's tear filled eyes blinked rapidly back at him in response, which
was answer enough.  He began to allow Trent's straining muscles to
gradually push his cock backwards.

   "It's interesting don't you think?  The way that what you feel as hard,
tearing pain, I feel as warm tight softness?" He expelled a long
pleasurable breath, his eyes closed as Trent's unwilling muscles gripped
and massaged his swollen glans.  "Ahhh, yes.  That really lovely.  Keeping
pushing,...just...  like...that."

   Trent knew what was going on.  He knew that he could never keep Clarence
out and that he was being toyed with.  Finally, with that understanding in
combination with all his pain and exhaustion, he was able to suspend his
instincts and stop clamping down on Clarence's cock.  This however angered
his rapist, who took the sudden limpness as a kind of rebellion.  By that
point though he was too impatient with lust to force Trent to keep playing
this little game.  He simply plunged back in as hard as he could,
satisfying his both lust and his anger.  In one stroke, as it were.

   Trent screamed out in agony, the pain worse than anything so far.  He
reflexively bore down hard again on Clarence who grunted with pleasure.  He
twisted his cock in Trent's bowels, rotating the angle and pushing forward
until his balls came to rest against Trent.  Trent's scream died into a
gurgle as he struggled to relax his disobedient rectal muscles.  The pain
was horrible, most especially at his sphincter.  He had visions of blood
oozing from his ruptured arse.  His eyes were squeezed tightly shut as his
head tossed violently back and forth, as if he could somehow shake off what
was happening.

   Clarence on the other hand paused for a moment in his ecstasy, dwelling
on this beautiful moment.  He was buried deep in the arse of a straight man
who loathed him.  A man who had disgraced and humiliated him.  And a man
who now, no matter how desperately he struggled, could no longer control
either his emotions or his own body.

   He didn't stay still for long though.  Pressed hard up against his
victim he begun again to twist and rotate his member deep in his unwilling
partner, delighting in each spasm, grimace and gasp he produced.  Trent's
eyes popped open, as he felt Clarence reach forward and run his hands up
his side.  They grew gradually wider as his pectoral muscles where roughly
squeezed, fingers closing tightly around his nipples.

   The incredible mixture of pain, terror, pleading and horrified
anticipation in Trent's desperate eyes, in combination with everything
else, saw Clarence almost lose his load right there and then.  He dropped
his hands to the corset, shut his eyes and held very still.  He probably
would have come except that, ironically, Trent had managed to regain
control of himself and had stopped massaging his cock.

   When he felt that the moment of danger had passed, Clarence opened his
eyes again to enjoy the sight of his victim's twisted, helpless body and
the agony and despair written all across his features.  Clarence released a
long low groan of pleasure.

   "This is just perfect." He breathed.  "Are you getting a sense of our
new relationship Trent?" He prodded forward for emphasis and was rewarded
with a groan and a pitiful look.

   He ran his hands along the inside of Trent's thighs.  They were pulled
so wide apart and tight up against his body that the muscles felt hard as
wood, only the flicking of cramps revealing their softness.  His legs below
the knees were still kicking pathetically in the air but it didn't seem to
be providing much relief.  Their gaze met, Trent trying to ascertain
whether he was required to answer the taunting question.  He saw only lust,
cruelty and delight.

   Reaching the groin Clarence dug his fingers painfully into the muscles
at Trent's crotch.  He twisted his cock deep in Trent's arse just to see
the pain and humiliation in his eyes.  Trent wanted to die.  Clarence
caught the look and his heart swelled.  He leaned in until their noses
almost touched, slowly grinding their pelvises together.  Trent was shaking
and whimpering but he didn't look away.  He seemed to understand that
Clarence wanted his undivided attention.  Clarence's voice was barely a
whisper.

   "There's no escape for you.  Not unless you do everything I want.  You
will suffer terribly, it's true.  But you know it will be so much worse if
you don't.  Only a very rare few can resist such force when they're utterly
helpless, and you're not one of them.  It's just not in your nature.  If
you die here it won't be the quick death you hope for." He paused a moment
here for effect .  "And you mustn't forget about your darling Emma."

   A little while ago the bitter cruelty of these threats would have
ignited fury beneath all the fear.  But something primal and terrible had
since passed between them.  Abducted by this horrible man, tied and
tortured in his dungeon, with his cock deep in his arse and his vile words
in his heart, he knew he was speaking the truth.  His own dark truth.  A
part of him knew that Clarence was twisting things.  That he was boasting,
bluffing and playing sick games.  That part knew it was so he could be more
easily controlled, as well for his own perverted pleasure.  But this
awareness, Trent's more noble truth, was crushed against the vast terror of
this monster.  Against his helplessness and the uncertainty of how far such
a man would go.  Who had already gone so far.  He couldn't fight Clarence,
not like this.  And he would remain like this until Clarence decided
otherwise.  Although at that moment every fibre of his being prayed for the
quick escape of death, he knew it was useless and that obeying his deranged
captor's every sick whim was his only hope.  If such a thing could be
called hope.

   Trent had become very still, even as Clarence's cock twitched within
him. As the two stared into one another's eyes, a perverse kind of mutual
understanding passed between them.  Though Trent had been very obedient so
far, Clarence could see he had now finally reached a more genuine level of
submission.  He rolled his hips against Trent's and reached forward,
gripping his head firmly between his hands at the base of his skull.  He
crushed his open mouth over Trent's.  Clarence had picked the moment
correctly, his prisoner at his lowest ebb.  Though revolted by this newest
affront Trent did little more than shudder in disgust and allowed
Clarence's rough, searching tongue to explore his mouth.  Though he dearly
wanted to bite it right off and spit it back in his face, he lay there
passively.  He listened instead to the competing agonies of his body; the
twisted muscles of his wrenched shoulders, those stretched in his thighs,
groin and back by the terrible angles in which he was held, even to the
stabbing pain in his poor rectal muscles as they where stretched and
pulled. Anything to help keep his mind off his rapist's foul tongue and
shining eyes.

   It was almost over however.  Though not a young man Clarence had never
been so excited in his whole life.  The pleasure of it all was overwhelming
him and he no longer had the patience or energy to put off the inevitable.
He began to thrust back and forth into Trent.  Slowly at first but with
rapidly increasing vigour, his tongue probing with a fierce urgency.  Trent
began to groan, then cry out with each thrust, his voice muffled and wet
under Clarence's hungry mouth.  Clarence's cock stuffing his guts and
tearing his ring had been awful, but its relative stillness had beguiled
Trent to forget the extent of its threat.  As it now began to saw in and
out of him the repulsive tongue invading his mouth suddenly didn't seem the
terrible indignity it had a moment ago.

   As the tearing pain in his arse grew unbearable Trent began to panic
again and struggle, trying to shake his head free of Clarence's lecherous
clutch.  Clarence though only tightened his grip, laughing into his mouth
and sucking greedily at his tongue.  Clarence was grunting and sweating,
clutching him tighter as his passion grew, putting more strain on his
already stringent bondage.  The pain and humiliation seemed to get worse
and worse.  Trent felt so small and helpless.  He felt so dirty and
worthless.  This vile old man was sweating and heaving over his helpless,
tortured body, about to blow his load up his arse.  He was supposed to be
cuddling up in bed with Emma.  Instead here he was being raped in a
nightmare cellar by his evil work rival who was probably going to murder
him once he bored of torturing him.  It was so incredibly and utterly
unfair.  He could barely understand how it had happened.

   Then he felt Clarence tensing up at the approach of his climax. 
Clarence's hands in hair painfully pulled his head back to the limit of the
collar at his throat.  Clarence made one last violent thrust and held
himself as deeply inside his victim as he was able, his orgasm exploding
from him like never before.  Trent could feel the cock spasming deep inside
him and he felt so sordid and used.  His degradation was complete.

   Clarence clung to him in silence for long seconds, his breath fast and
heavy.  Trent finally couldn't hold it in any longer and he began to cry.
Quietly at first, but the despair had been repressed too long.  As
Clarence's cock begin to shrink inside him, he lost all control and long,
ragged, choking sobs began to wrack his body.

   In something of a daze Clarence withdrew and wiped himself off,
regarding his seemingly broken victim with a mildly glazed but very
satisfied look.  He had wanted to do more with him, not least make him
clean off his cock with his mouth.  But things had gone very well and he
was very tired.  Trent was crying like baby, his eyes closed and head
hanging to one side.  His body was limp in its cruel bondage.  He looked
absolutely beautiful to Clarence who was very happy to remember he was
recording all these precious memories.  He decided Trent could stay in that
position while he went upstairs for a nap.  It was a rape tie after all and
might serve to reinforce the memory of his violent deflowering.  He wanted
to finish with the right goodbye though.

   He took Trent's head gently in his hands and lifted his face to his own.
His eyes opened, red and watery and full of pain.  As he stared back at him
there was no anger in them now, only fear.  His breathing was broken and
ragged, his sobs were receding but still escaping his throat in fits and
starts.

   "Don't cry little one, it's always painful losing your virginity. 
You'll get used to it.  You might even learn to enjoy it."

   Clarence caressed Trent's wet face, wiping at his tears.  His voice was
gentle and soothing.  His words though only renewed Trent's weeping, which
made him smile.

   "I can see you need to be left alone to get all this out of your system.
It's partly my fault really for being such an inattentive lover.  When I
come back we'll put you into a new position and I'll pay a bit more
attention to you."

   Clarence emphasized the last word by cupping Trent's genitals and giving
his limp cock a gentle, lingering squeeze.  Trent's hopeless eyes opened
like saucers with an absolutely priceless look.  Clarence gave him a
meaningful smile then turned and left the room.  He relocked all the doors
and left his prisoner in his awful bondage to absorb all that had just
befallen him.  And to contemplate all that lay ahead.
   End of part one 

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