Message-ID: <56125asstr$1182798602@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Path: i38g2000prf.googlegroups.com!not-for-mail From: Misanthropic.Misfit@gmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <1182776238.304776.235440@i38g2000prf.googlegroups.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2007 12:57:19 +0000 (UTC) User-Agent: G2/1.0 X-HTTP-UserAgent: Mozilla/4.0 (compatible; MSIE 6.0; Windows NT 5.1; SV1),gzip(gfe),gzip(gfe) Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com Injection-Info: i38g2000prf.googlegroups.com; posting-host=203.206.248.74; posting-account=eH7-Cg0AAABo_lR-CYAKQSMXmM8oY1nY X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2007 05:57:18 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Professional Jealousy - NC, M/m, Gay, Abduct, BDSM. Lines: 1274 Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2007 15:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2007/56125> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, emigabe 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 ------- ASSM Moderation System Notice-------- This post has been reformatted by the ASSM Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+