The following story is a work of fiction set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to accurately reflect persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If sexual scenes involving male to male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this by law. This is fiction. Don't forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matters'; got condom?
"Collecting Things" 14 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Aaaah, that swim was mighty refreshing after being in that hot, sweaty dungeon, Jim."
"Yeah, but ready to get all sweated up against, Paul?" Jim Rettinger remarked, his hand on Paul Klinghoffen's shoulder, as he led him down the stairs to his playroom.
"Hmm, mind if I work Kevin here a little before we get down to business, Jim?"
"Whatever your pleasure, Paul."
"Think I'll move him to the bondage table. More fun to work those globes of his."
What Paul Klinghoffen didn't realize is that Jim Rettinger had retained the services of Justin Baylor, the twenty-four year old college student, whom worked this night for double his regular pay. With coy repose, after Jim helped secure Kevin to the bondage table, he stepped out of the way.
"Yeah, you go back to your easy chair and let me play!" Klinghoffen said, with a vote of confidence.
As Jim sat there, watching Klinghoffen torture Kevin, he stroked his meat, thinking how much fun he was going to have, working Klinghoffen's body over. Jim's private monitor made him stroke and finger his cock and balls, as he watched Klinghoffen clamp Kevin's nips, stretch them out above his chest, then circle his globes with a rope, attach a weight and drop it.
"Ooooooooooooh," Jim sighed, as he heard Kevin scream out, his balls stretching away from his cock.
Justin managed to capture the image from an overhead reflection, with that of Paul Klinghoffen's face, as he laughed with pleasure, stroking his meat. Justin, sly in his own right, thought of how his tuition would be covered, bribing Klinghoffen with the duplicate copy. Maybe Jim knew something even Justin didn't know!
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"Felt wonderful, Rex."
"Yeah, but I don't want you to forget what I told you Michael."
"I know, but it's going to be tough fucking a guy and then think of you, Rex."
"Would it make you feel any better if you fucked a guy in front of me?"
"What do you mean Rex?"
"Hey, there's no reason why we can't have threesomes with Tom once in awhile, Michael."
"Tom? You really like him, don't you Rex?"
"He's cute."
"He's more than cute now, confess."
"Confess? Oh no!"
"What?"
"Kevin, that's what!"
"Oh shit! I forgot all about him!"
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"Excellent entertainment, Paul," Jim said, a hand on his shoulder."
It seemed like a neverending cycle. Here, Jim gave Paul the upperhand, to have some fun, at Kevin's expense. Justin Baylor, filming the whole thing now rattled in chains, a ballgag in his mouth.
"Now all we have to do, is to get Kevin to sign those papers, Paul!"
"Ooooh and I was having so much fun, Jim."
"Oh don't worry, Paul. I'm sure you and I will be having lots more fun!"
As soon as the two loosened Kevin from his bondage, they had to walk the twenty-six year old, setting him down on the bench in front of the 'confession table'. Klinghoffen, 6'3 and two hundred and fifteen pounds, stood behind Kevin, steadying him with his firm hands on his shoulders, to keep his tortured body from waving about.
"He's still got a lot of play left in him, you know."
"Oh, I know, Paul."
After Kevin signed the papers, his hand having needed some guidance, Jim said, "Well, that takes care of that. Now, Paul," Jim hesitated.
Three men, clothed in black uniforms, security logo patches, on their shoulders, approach. Two take Kevin right away, his tormented, tired body, dragging to the floor, laying it out, his arms flop above his head.
"Now, if you'll take your seat, Paul?"
"Me? Huh? What do you mean, Jim?"
Jim didn't wait for Paul to make up his mind. He gives the order, "Take him!"
Like Paul wanted with Kevin, Jim wanted to have a little play time, before getting down to business, signing some agreements. Too bad Kevin didn't read the fine print. He would be leaving Jim's ownership, headed right into that of another slave owner's lair. In fact, the legal paper, Jim didn't read, but signed just for the pain to terminate, in reality said that Jim was selling Kevin for the sum of five thousand dollars.
"Yeah, tie him tight. I can't wait to break you, Paul!"
Paul tried to protest, but the ballgag kept him from complaining. Not that it would make a difference, where Jim Rettinger was concerned. Jim's cock leaked, watching the forty-two year old struggle in his binds, as the security guards attached him to the big 'X'-shaped apparatus.
"I've always admired your massive, worked out body, Klinghoffen. Mmmmm... aren't those abs going to be fun, turning them to mush?"
Klinghoffen struggled, but as it stood, his arms and legs, bounded to conform to the crosspieces of the 'X', afforded him no luxury of moving about.
"Hans?"
"Yes, sir," A tall blond replied.
"How would you like the pleasure of sinking your fist into those abs?"
"I'd like that sir."
"You'll find some chaps on the rack over there."
Smiling a wide grin, hans began unbuttoning his shirt, as he walked towards where Jim pointed.
"What about us?"
The dark haired one, now standing to Jim's right asks, "Alright if Greg and I play a little?"
"You and Greg?"
"Yeah," Greg replies, "Reed likes it rough sometimes. Alright if we strip down and have some fun?"
"Reed huh?"
"Yes, sir," Reed Martin replies, "Not that I've ever done any of this stuff before." Then he added, "Ever since high school, I've been what they call a 'wannabe'."
"Sure, you boys go along and have some fun," Jim gave them his permission.
In his mind, Jim was already thinking that if Reed showed him some hot action, he'd consider it part of his audition, for the thirty-something year old.
"How do I look?"
"Nice. Very nice, Hans."
In fact, Jim loved the look of the tall blond, muscled and decked out in the leather garb, the black leather silhoueteed nicely against his bright skin.
"Maybe you would like a replacement for the 'big man', sir?"
"Let's see what you can do with those fists, Hans and then I'll decide."
"Yes, sir!" Hans said energetically, situated himself in front of Paul Klinghoffen. As he probed the forty-two year old's abs, with his fingertips, he commented, "Nice and hard.. yeah, just what I like... a man who knows how to take care of himself!"
Thinking the same thoughts, Jim smiled after checking the stats of Hans Bucholst, on his computer terminal. He read over the stats to himself, 'Thirty-one, six foot, one, hundred ninety-five', Jim thought to himself, 'it doesn't have to tell me that he works out, to keep in shape!' The last stat that interested him was the cock size; 9.5c. Makes for good 'fucking footage'! However, something else popped up on the screen. 'What the fuck is this?' The automatic 'people-search' feature began to override his selection, revealing some personal thoughts about one, Hans Bucholst', aka 'Carson Peterson'.
Watching the computer spit out the information in front of him, Jim Rettinger thanked the computer genius, a boy he once owned a couple of years back, for installing the high tech program. 'So, Hans, you're not exactly whom you assume to be. Well, we'll see about that!'
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"Um, are you sure you know how to get there, Michael?"
Michael told them all to 'shut up', as he drove the estate van down the winding road. In the back, Ben and John had manned the shovel and pick, just in case Michael needed some backup. Along for the rescue, Tom, Rico, Philip, and Steve sat, taking on the curves in the road, careening their bodies to the left and right, as Michael tore through the countryside.
"No, you should've made a turn back there, Michael," Tom said.
Everyguy in the van suffered instant whiplash, as Michael backtracked, putting the vehicle in reverse.
"Next time we go rescuing anybody," Tom said, "I'm nominating Rex as driver."
They all seconded it, Michael telling them all to 'shut up'!
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"How about a nice iced beer before you warm up those fists, Hans?"
Hans didn't see any harm in a few fast glugs, before the long slug. It actually would be a good stall, while his 'informant-friends', Reed and Greg, notified the authorities.
"Here's to our new relationship! Bottom's up!"
It didn't take long for the beer additive to take it's effect on Hans. Jim was there on hand, to help break his fall to the pavement.
"On boy... are you going to be a lot of fun, Hans. Thanks for dropping in!"
Jim laughed, as he lay the tall blond thirty-one year old out on the bondage table. He secured some black, leather cuffs around his wrists and them connected them to the stretching bar, at the top of the convertible table. In an instant, a whirring motor could transform it into a stretching rack.
"Ooooooooooohhhh.... awesome!" Jim stuttered, peeling the chaps down, as the soft meat and rather large balls revealed themselves.
He discarded the boots and chaps right there on the floor, then proceeded to cuff Hans', aka Carson's, ankles in the same leather bracelets.
"Comfortable?" Jim joked, looking at the six foot one hunk, lay out on the table. "What a shame that I'm going to have to mark up that handsome body!"
Pressing a button, he watched as Hans'/Carson's feet pulled on the rest of his body, drifting towards the foot of the bondage table. Soon his legs lay there straight as straws. The pressure made his arms straighten out, as his back dragged on the leather furniture. Soon, Jim stood satisfied that Carson's/Han's body had reached the apex of tautness.
"Oh man... these are going to be a lot of fun!"
Fondling Carson's/Han's big globes he twisted them viciously.
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"Isn't that it?"
"Yeah, that's it, Michael," Tom replied, breathing down Michael's neck, from the back seat.
"That's strange."
"What is Michael?"
Then, as if carrying on a private conversation with Tom, Michael asks, "Don't you see it?"
"See what?"
"The day I came for Kevin's punishment, the place was crawling with security."
"Heeey, yeah. Like you said, Michael, where is it?"
"Hey now, where are you going?" Michael questioned.
Hearing Rex's door click open, his feet hit the ground before Michael could snatch at Rex's shirt, clawing it in his hand.
"Hey, you don't think you're going in there alone, Michael, especially after what I've heard?"
"Yeah, we're all with you, Michael!" his brother Philip replied.
As if Peter Pan, his gang stuck with him, as Michael viewed the others, Ben, John, Steve, Philip, Rico and Tom, standing there.
"No way. I'm going in alone," Michael said.
"C'mon guys," Rex commanded his legions.
Michael threw up his hands, in disgust.
"Shut up, Michael. They'll hear us coming!" Rex replied to his complaining.
The little band rounded their way around every nook and cranny, never coming in contact with security.
"I don't believe that nobody's coming to get us."
"Why's that, Tom?" Rex asks.
"Because the security cameras are on. See that?"
They all look up, as a small camera switches direction, the direction they are taking, rounding a corner.
"Hey, look! I'm on TV!"
They all yell at once, "Steve!"
"Sorry guys," Steve says, Philip taking his arm, to keep track of him.
Finally they reach the door 'in'.
"Wow! Now this is totally unreal!"
"What is Tom?" Michael asks.
"The door... it's fuckin' unlocked!" After they enter, Tom says, "This way."
He leads them down a quiet corridor. In fact, the whole place resembles a spooky mansion, the only sound being a distant, ticking clock. Like the gang from Scooby-doo, they hang on one another, as Tom leads them along.
"Tom?" One voice questions, as he opens the door.
"Tom? Where ya been?"
The ones entering the room, squint at the bright light, taking in view the 'skin' in front of them.
"Never mind me. Where's Kevin?"
One of the boys, a tanned skin youth, totally naked, except for his hairy, brown chest and trail that leads down to his thick bush, replies, "They took him down to the dungeon, we think."
"We've got to get to Kevin. He could be in big trouble!"
"Who are you?" One of the unclothed youths asks Ben.
"I'm Ben and you're cute!"
Nineteen year old Douglas, smiles.
"Hey, no time for flirting Ben. That's not what we came for, remember?" Rex intervenes.
"Which direction to the dungeon, Tom?"
"This way, though I'm not really sure. I was blindfolded for part of the way."
"Wait!" Rex yelled out, taking something from the belly bag, attached around his middle.
"Rex, what the fuck? I don't think this is hardly the place, nor the time for something like this?"
However, Michael cuts his brother Philip off, saying, "Um, little bro, like lay off?"
"But Michael, it's like...."
Frustrated at his brother's reasoning, both verbally and giving him a noogie, Philip backed down, letting Rex arrange all of them for a digital pic.
"Hee heee.. good one, Michael!" Rex replied, taking a pic of Michael with his bro wedged in his elbow, getting the noogie, both with a forced smile on their faces.
"Um, make sure it goes in our family pix collection, Rex?"
"Yeah, no problem," Rex agreed, as they broke formation.
They all paraded out of the room, that looked like a temporary hold, like a bedroom without the beds. As Michael and Tom led the way, they all followed in close contact.
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"Coming round are we?" Jim said, looking at Carson's beautiful body.
"Whaaaa. what is this?"
"Hmm... just what I'm thinking, Mr. Peterson... Carson Peterson, isn't it?"
Carson could see that there was no hope in lying to Jim Rettinger. He could only play along, buying time.
"So, what are you? CIA? FBI?"
"I'm Carson Peterson."
"Oh, a stubborn one, huh? Love it!"
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Carson screamed out, as the leather strap came down across his balls.
He moaned, trying to lift his head, as he looked at his defenseless globes, a piece of wood under them, propping them up.
"As you were saying, Carson?"
He flopped his head back down to the soft, leather bondage table.
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk! Akkkkkkkkkkk! Akkkk!" The agent screamed, as Jim brought the leather strap repeated down, lashing Carson's sensitive balls, crushing them each time between the force of the lash and the rough piece of wood.
"So, what do you say, Hans? Carson, I mean?"
"I am Carson Peterson and that's all you'll get out of me!" He replied, adamantly.
"Oh, I'll be getting a lot more out of you, believe me, Carson! Haaa ha ha ha haaa ha!"
Before Carson could render an intelligible noise, the rein of Jim's fury let loose, pounding Carson's unprotected balls. Carson pulled at the bindings that stretched his limbs, as his balls became like the sun, fiery and burning. He cried out in unimaginable pain, taking the fury of the punishment. At the same time as whipping the huge orbs, swelling moment by moment, Jim held off the blonde's cock, stroking it to the rhythm of the pain. Though all of his training for his position as an agent, he never encountered the response of pain mixed with pleasure. It began to capitvate his senses. However, after a battering experience, the pain won out.
"Now, are you ready to talk, Carson? No? Good. I was hoping so! Heee he he heee heee!"
Jim returned to the wall cupboard, picking up a nasty looking set of clamps. Reporting back to Carson, he opened the jaws of the menacing looking clips. He showed them to Carson, right in full view, using them like little puppets, talking to each other.
"Hee heee... wait til these are on your nips, Carson. Without anything to grab onto, they make no noise, but wait til they dig into your nipmeat.... yeah that's when the little devils really begin to make some noise! Haa ha ha ha ha!"
Carson thought of cursing Rettinger out, but he decided instead to face up to the matter of his evitable torture.
As if to prolong the process of adhering the little shark-biters to Carson's nips, Jim first began hardening them up with his finger and thumb. Carson held back any sound, until one of Jim's hands folded around his 9.5c handle and began stroking it.
"Yeah, I knew you would like that, Carson. Sensitive nips and a sensitive shaft go together real nice. Wouldn't you agree?" Jim Rettinger smiled a wide grin.
Carson kept his cool, except for the occasional sigh, which he tried like hell to suppress. He winced, closing his eyes at the pleasure Jim extracted from him. As if pure pain, Carson kept on trying to arch his back, but in the taut, stretched out position, he found it tough to do.
Jim saw his chance at changing the tide, smiling, as he saw Carson slip under his spell. His eyes closed, as he stroked the slick shaft, glistening with oozed out goo, he stopped his nip massaging action. Very quickly, he exchanged his finger and thumb for one of the nip clamps. Opening the razor-sharp jaws, he pinched the tension of the clamps open. Then he quickly surrounded Carson's primed nip in between the jaws and let go.
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkooooooohfuck!" Carson screamed.
With what little slack his bondage position afforded, Carson bucked, throwing his head from side to side, as if beating his own ears against his arms.
Rettinger smiled a toothy grin, as he still stroked Carson's fully erect 9.5c.
"I knew you'd like that... now for an encore!"
Taking the other nipclamp in his hand, he stretched it out fully so that it pulled tautly upwards, taking Carson's clipped nip with it. He went through the painful nightmare again, but something kept Carson in tabs with reality, at the continued stroking of his pleasure tool.
Without the dramatic announcement, Jim surrounded Carson's other piece of sharkbait, with the jagged edges of the clamp and let go. Jim thought at one point that the strong leather bindings wouldn't hold the strong body down, but he began to continue 'taming' the painful side, with making sure Carson's shaft leaked the necessay lube.
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"Are we there yet?"
"Shut up, Steve!" More than one of Rex's band shouted.
"You're name's Steve?" One of the bare-buttocked boys asked.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Nuthin'. You're kind of cute."
"I am?" Steve replied.
Philip quickly grabbed Steve's arm, to lead him along, not ready to give up on his studmuffin. Rex quickly snapped a pic of Philip's actions, to add to the family photo collection.
"This is it!"
"Are you sure Tom?"
"Yeah, he's right. I think this is the way we went when Jim brought all of us masters down to the dungeon."
"I thought you looked familiar," Frank said to Michael.
"Yeah," Roberto said, "weren't you there the night they branded Kevin?"
Michael, instead of feeling proud of himself, like he felt when being surrounded by a group of masters, cringed of the thought of being with a bunch of bottom boys.
"He was there and now he's sorry he ever witnessed such a barbaric act, aren't you Michael?" Rex helped to dispose of the rumors of Michael having a good time.
"Yeah," he said solemnly.
"Now," Rex, the more adamant of all of them, boasted, "let's get moving so we can save Kevin and anybody else that might be in harm's way."
"Cool," Cole, the eighteen year old, that had tried to pick up Steve, said.
As they walked, Douglas, right nextdoor to Cole's age, began to complain, "I didn't know that stuff like that went on. Shit! Branding guys? They're aloud to do that?"
Twenty-five year old Roberto says, "If I knew that this was all for real, I would've never had pursued this slavery stuff. I hope Kevin's alright."
All the boys, clothed and unclothed, agreed with the idea that Roberto put to fromer 'wannabees'. Rex took some shots of the boys, ones he new and some of them he was still sketchy on the names. Later, when he made up the 'Rescue Collection', he would ask who's who.
"This is the door, isn't it Tom?"
"Is it metallic?"
"Yeah."
"Try it. I think. There's only other metal door in the place and that leads to the refrigerator."
"Don't I know it?" twenty-two year old Jason says, "almost froze to death, inside one time!"
Now wasn't the time to hear Jason's story, but they all showed concern.
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Carson lay there on the bondage table, faced contorted, not sure whether he called this torture or pure pleasure. Rettinger had placed the center of the chain, connecting Carson's nips, clad in the sharptoothed clips, on a hook, dangling from a chain. With a push of a button, the chain rose towards the ceiling, creating a pull that would both, stretch Carson's nips higher above his chest, and at the same time, tighten the biting metal, squeezing his nips. All through the process, Jim stroked his dripping shaft.
"Yeah, you want to cum bad, don't you Carson?"
At this point, Carson, delirious with the painful abuse his pecs suffered, but the excruiating beautiful pleasure his oozing cock betrayed in him, he did want to cum and bad. However, he didn't say anything that would signify that to Rettinger. Everything that he learned in 'spy school' counteracted what he felt now. He really wondered if it interested Rettinger in deriving information from him or did he torture him for the purpose of turning him into a pain pig?
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"He look familiar, Rex?"
"My father!"
There, in front of them, barely able to reach the floor, stood Rex's father. His arms, stretched high above his head, made his husky body seem fairly well distributed with weight. Rex stare at Michael 'addressing' his father. With the digital cam in limbo, Philip easily acquires it from Rex, taking some pics of the eighteen year old, peering up at his nuded, bound body.
Michael slapped his face, saying, "Malcolm?"
"Mi... Michael?" The father spoke, then after spotting his son, "Rex?"
He didn't know where it came from, but out of nowhere, Rex said, "We came to rescue you, dad!"
Rex suddenly realized that this wasn't any online slave story. This here was real life and it's the scenario he didn't want his father involved in. The little boy in him was waking up to reality.
Suddenly, from the bowels of Rettinger's dungeon they heard, "Oooooooohhhhh...akkkkkkkkk! Akkkkkkkkkkkkk! Ooooh!"
The combination of pain, mixed with the sexual pleasure, bellowed, as the men rushed ahead, from where the human sounds came from.
"What's this Michael? Bring some friends to play with?"
It seemed like a stalemate, yet still the essence of danger, as they all stood around the bondage table. What a sight to see, as Carson Peterson lay there, tight as a skin over a drum, his nips clipped and stretched and instead of sighing with uncontrolled pain, the opposite prevailed. He sighed alright, but his pleasure was derived from the metal pinchers on his nips and the white cum sprayed on his chest, stomach and Jim Rettinger's hand, still wrapped around his knob, the skeletal digits also cum-covered. Philip took pics, as if a papparazzi photographer snapping up dozens of pix of Robby Genepri's cum-covered hand, holding Chris Evans' blasted eruption.
Carson still moaned, "Oooh yeah.... oh yeaaah...."
Steve half-kidding, remarked, "Wait till you take them off... this guy'll change his tune real fast!"
The unclothed guys looked at Steve, as Philip checked out the other guys' reactions, staring at different features, both on the table and around the circle of skin. He thought of how fun Rex's idea of collections of specific photo composition, of making up his own collection, adding a chapter of his own, to the 'Rescue Collection'.
Steve replied, "Hey, been there, done that!"
Rettinger picked up on Steve's comment, saying, "Hmmm... care to trade places?" Referring to releasing Carson and slamming Steve's bod down on the bondage rack.
One person remained aloof from the masculine crowd, around the table.
Sitting on the floor, Ben had opened his crotch, to cradle Kevin's back. Using his own stomach as a cushion, he cuddled the twenty-six year old, saying, "You're going to be alright, man... you're going to be alright."
Philip thought what a touching scene, taking snaps of the scene from all angles, actually lying down on the floor, next to Ben and Kevin, to try to get Ben's crotch reaction, to holding the tortured and sore twenty-six year old in in lap, bracing him up against his body. Yeah, Philip was on a natural high, one hand on the push-button and the other hand pushing his own buttons, on his crotch.
"So, where do we go from here?" Jim Rettinger inquired, knowing that life, as he knew it, was ending.
Michael, standing with hands on his hips, looked down at his bro, splayed out on the floor. The digital cam, idle, got plucked from Philip's hand.
"Heeeeeeey bro! I'm trying to make some memories here!"
"Yeah, I'm sure your cock will never forget!"
Philip didn't mind giving up the cam to Michael, as Steve began unzipping Philip's jeans, his mouth already salivating. Michael captured the tender moment, for the 'Sardi Family Collection'.
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continued.........
Copyright 2005 T. Chase McPhee All Rights Reserved.
Permission is NOT granted to publish
this story to any PAY site, nor any site
other than www.nifty.org, without the
author's prior consent.