The Hostage

A young man is kidnapped and given the screw of his life.

~~~

Danny was so, so fucked up. The night was young, and he was already drunk. Not dead drunk, since he believed he had quite a good tolerance to alcohol, but enough to experience more than a little buzz.

It was, after all, the only way he could function lately. Unwind or whatever. He stared at the bottom of the glass, wishing he could jump in it and drown.

“I’ll be right back,” he told his companion and walked toward the bathroom. Their business associates would be there shortly, and he needed to splash some water on his face. Maybe practice his winning smile in the restaurant’s bathroom mirror.

At 25, he was pretty much a catch. He was on the right path to inherit a fortune and had all the privilege granted by the most elitist education one could get. He caught his face in the mirror and rubbed one hand over it. His eyes were bloodshot. Good thing they looked so friendly all the time, a hazel brown he had been said to be quite charming. His hair was growing a bit too long. He brushed his hands through it, pushing it away from his forehead. People called him handsome. He didn’t care.

Women called him good looking and a charmer. He had the best smile, they said. He didn’t care, either. Good genes were responsible for that. His mother, a trophy wife in her own right, had passed on full kissable lips and an overall pleasing face with high cheekbones and just the right amount of softness to make him look unmenacing to other males.

His father called him baby-faced and weak. He did care about that. And it was, maybe, why he drank so much lately. Daddy set the bar quite high these days.

Someone walked into the bathroom, and Danny paid no attention at first, too lost in his thoughts.

“Rough night?” a raspy voice called from his right.

He turned slightly. The first thing he noticed was the leather jacket, worn and smelling of the road. Such an unusual sight in a place catering to businessmen and high class whores. Danny wasn’t sure to which category he belonged. Daddy would probably set him straight if he knew.

The second thing he noticed was the short stubble covering a manly face. And then the eyes, steely and blue. The stranger wasn’t smiling. The look in his eyes was enough to give Danny chills.

The guy was almost one head taller, so Danny had to tilt his head back a little, especially since the stranger was invading his space. His hair and eyes were dark, which made his eyes look hypnotic and a bit out of place on that face. He could be in his early 30s or even younger.

Danny fought the impulse to step back. “Not yet. But it will be,” he offered with a strained smile.

“Looking for fun?” The stranger moved closer, and Danny inhaled the smell of worn leather and cigarettes. And freedom.

Was the guy trying to peddle drugs to him now?

Danny snorted. “No. I have a business dinner which is about to start. And I only drink the occasional glass,” he added, for no reason at all.

The stranger’s face wrinkled with a smile. “I was talking about a different kind of fun.”

This time, Danny stepped back. Even drunk, he could sense danger. He shivered and moved away. “Yeah, not interested,” he said on the way out, waving at the man.

~~~

Ace watched the rich cocksucker walking out on him. He was there on business, too, but that didn’t mean he would pass on some good old fun if he could help it. He checked his watch. Yeah, there was still time to kill.

Maybe he would rub one off at the expense of that piece of tail that had just escaped through his fingers. Ace took pride in being able of sniffing cocksuckers from one look. This one reeked of want. Want to get down on his knees and blow a guy like him.

Too bad he had a stick up his ass. Ace threw a look at himself in the mirror. Maybe he had scared the little cocksucker, but it wasn’t like he had time for courtship. Or any interest in doing that.

Yeah, too bad he didn’t have time to teach that trust fund baby what real fun looked like. How would that pretty face look with tears streaking his cheeks and a mouth choke full of cock? Ace rubbed his crotch. He would look perfect. His friends thought he was picky when it came to the dudes he fucked, and for good reasons. His cock deserved only the best, and he enjoyed breaking rich kids looking for fun and sending them home to their daddies with their holes filled with cum.

He tsked and shook his head. He had a business to run, too. With steady hands, he took the black balaclava from his pocket and pulled it over his face.

~~~

Danny’s smile strained as the fucker in front of him continued to boast about his financials. Who gave a fuck? He was there to close the deal, not listen to this moron. He downed another glass of bourbon and grimaced at the burn.

A short scream stopped the humdrum of their conversation. Then, the sound of glass breaking pierced the air.

And then, a shot. Danny felt his blood rushing to his feet and froze on the spot. In slow motion, he registered the people around either throwing themselves to the ground or rushing towards the exit.

And he couldn’t move. Couldn’t look.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and the smell of worn leather and gun smoke hit his nostrils.

“You’re coming with me.”

Danny raised his eyes to meet steely blues from under a mask. “No,” he whispered, but the power to struggle was gone from him.

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The BJ Boy

This is the beginning of the first installment of The Used Boy series. 

18-year old Andy is looking for a job and finds one as a BJ boy for a mafia boss.

This book contains fetishes such as spitting, spit swallowing, forced deepthroat, verbal abuse and humiliation play.

Andy was strapped for cash so badly that he couldn’t even get his head around what the hell he was supposed to do to get some. He kicked a pebble with his foot, making it roll down the pavement. Being poor sucked big time. It didn’t help that all he knew was to wash dishes and take out the garbage.

Man, how he envied those dudes in designer suits, and sunglasses watching the door to that club, he thought, as he looked up. Their boss must pay them royally just to guard the door.

Andy was a man of action. Well, he liked to think he was a man, although he had barely turned eighteen. Whatever, he had to qualify for some errand boy position if there was some opening at that club. He stole a quick look into a store window. He wore skinny jeans hanging low on his hips, Converse shoes, and a wife beater, showing off the slight definition of his biceps.

It wasn’t like he was strong as those guys in front, but he could hold his ground, he thought. The big boss at that nightclub might just have some work for him. He stopped in front of the window, grimacing and trying to make himself look tough. Why the hell did he had to have full lips like a girl’s? Most probably it made some people eager to sucker-punch him. That might explain why he got into so many fights.

He didn’t have too many trophy scars to prove that. He was way too good at dodging and running. His mom liked his face. She often told him he was handsome. But he hated his blue eyes, and blond hair, and big fucking fat lips. He wanted to look tough, like a man and all that. Instead, he looked like someone asking for a beating.

With a shrug, he pushed the golden necklace inside his wife beater. It was fake, anyway. But it was the only thing he had from his dad and he didn’t want anyone to think they could snatch it from him.

Hands in his pockets, trying to look loose and without a care in the world, he walked over to one of the men in front. “Hey, is the boss in or something?”

The bouncer didn’t even spare him a look. Andy wasn’t going to let that bother him. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Kid, scram.”

The man didn’t move, but his voice was threatening enough. Andy could feel his anger coming up. “I’m no kid. I’m looking for work.”

“Look somewhere else. There’s no room for scrawny punks like you around here.”

“I can fight.” Andy put his fists up, for demonstration.

The bouncer took one step toward him, but Andy stood his ground. Who the hell that guy thought he was to call him a kid?

It was enough for the bouncer to put one heavy hand against his chest and push him that he landed on his ass. “Screw you.” He shot up to his feet and lunged at the man.

He would get a beating now. That was sure. The bouncer smiled, as if he could barely wait to mess him up. He caught Andy’s fist with one hand, gripping it tightly. Andy cried out in pain, and his knees began giving in.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

The bouncer dropped him to the ground like he was burned. Andy rolled on the sidewalk, catching his bruised hand with the other.

“Just a punk messing around,” the bouncer replied to whoever was asking.

Andy saw perfectly polished shoes stopping right in front of him. He didn’t look up. Maybe this guy would kick him, too. “Stand up, boy,” the stranger ordered.

“Want me to keep him so you can punch him, boss?” the bouncer asked.

Andy dared to look up. A man was looking down on him. He looked like a celebrity or something. He had dark hair, shiny with hair gel, and he was handsome in a rough way. That guy looked like a man. Maybe he was just a scrawny punk, after all, Andy thought.

With some difficulty, he stood up. If he was going to take a punch, he was going to take it standing. Without hesitation, he stared the stranger into his dark eyes that were looking at him with interest. From up close, the guy looked even more like he just got off some shiny cover of a magazine.

The bouncer hurried to pin Andy’s arms behind his back. Andy stared with defiance at the stranger.

“Let him,” the man ordered shortly. “Come with me,” he then told Andy.

Andy smiled. Damn, he would now get a frigging job. The man must have seen he was not afraid. He could use him for something. He stuck his tongue at the two bouncers as he followed the handsome guy.

“Mr. Torelli,” the other bouncer said and bowed.

So that was the guy’s name, Andy registered right away. That was good to know. He sauntered after Mr. Torelli, into the darkness of the club.

He followed him into what looked like an office with plush chairs and heavy furniture. Andy could swear he could sleep on the carpet and it would still be better than his bed at home.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Torelli asked once they were alone. He was leaning against a desk, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Andy … Andrew Stamwell, sir,” he replied quickly.

Mr. Torelli threw him a weird once-over. Andy felt his skin prickling under that man’s gaze and like the temperature in the room was getting higher. It was like the guy wanted to stare at him through his clothes or something. Mr. Torelli moved slowly and lit himself a cigar, making the smoke dance toward the ceiling. Man, even that smelled rich.

“I’m looking for a job,” Andy added. “Anything would do, really. I can run errands, and I know I don’t look that strong, but I can beat up people and --”

“Have you ever sucked a guy’s cock?”

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. That couldn’t be real. It was all because of his stupid face and stupid lips, right? Mr. Torelli thought he was a cocksucker.

“No, sir,” he said and puffed his chest out. “I only screw girls.”

Mr. Torelli chuckled. Andy threw the guy a nervous look. The guy seemed to be in his late 30s, and he was good looking, and all. Why the hell was he asking him those fag questions?

“It doesn’t matter.”

“About the job, sir --” Andy started again.

“There’s something. Actually, the only thing if you’re looking for a quick buck,” Mr. Torelli said.

“Anything, sir,” Andy replied quickly.

“So eager.” The man chuckled again, making Andy feel goose bumps everywhere. “The only opening I have right now is for a cocksucker.”

Andy ground his teeth hard. This guy was taking him for a fool. “I’m no cocksucker.”

Whatever, he would look for work somewhere else. He turned on his heels.

“Two hundred. For a mouthful,” Mr. Torelli threw at his retreating back.

*************************

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