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Saturday, October 10, 2009

Plaything

"I'm almost in ..." the hacker mumbled as he typed furiously on his keyboard. "C'mon, c'mon ... just a little more ..." The young man was typical of his breed; unkempt, somewhat non-communicative and lacking completely in social skills. But his abilities were legendary, and Ethan Aguirre had hired him specifically for his talents. He laid his hands on the thin shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. His cufflinks gleamed in the overhead lights.

"I only hire the best, Eugene ... and I know you can do it." He trailed a finger across the back of the hacker's neck and the young man shivered under the gentle touch.

"Thanks, Mr. Aguirre. In a moment we should have complete access to ... GodDAMMIT!!"

The hacker watched as his carefully constructed virus blew apart. The screen flickered and died as the two men saw weeks worth of work dissolve before their eyes.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. That counterattack was the most comprehensive thing I've ever seen. It was like the defenses knew exactly what I was doing before I was doing it."

"You think someone was watching you?"

"No one works that fast, Mr. Aguirre ..." the hacker looked angry and fearful at the same time. "But no automated system could be that creative either. I've got to think of another way in."

"Let's regroup tomorrow, Eugene ..." Aguirre looked at his watch. "I've got to go. I have a deposition to take." He stroked the young man's back as he left the apartment.

The young man shivered. The lawyer scared the hell out of him and aroused him at the same time. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Time to decompress a bit after that unsuccessful attack. Maybe chat up Charlie Lee; a good game of Resident Evil 5 would get those creative juices flowing. At that point, his Blackberry beeped to indicate a text. He picked it up and clicked to view the incoming message.

"I enjoyed our little game, but playing with fire will get you INCINERATED. Walk away and don't look back. I don't give second warnings."



Eugene began to tremble. His cyber-identity was a closely guarded secret and his smartphone had more security built into it than the presidential version. Whomever the DA was having him try to hack into wasn't worth the danger. He knew when he was outclassed.

* * *

"We could always arrange an accident, Lucio..." Dash took a sip of his coffee.

Lucio Giambi had arranged for this meeting and the several men were enjoying breakfast in his penthouse apartment/office. The sun poured through the large windows, bathing the group in a warm wash of light. Present at the meeting were TJ Kane, powerfully arousing in his CHP uniform; Bobby Cromwell and Xander Cannon, taking some time from shooting their latest Thor video release; and Dash Carpentier, Lucio's partner and lover. Two other people - Giaan Khamar and Ariane Zutrovna - indicated that they would be a bit late.

"That won't work, Dash." TJ stroked his chin. "Believe me, just getting rid of him won't solve the problem. You need to make sure that the investigation will stop, and stop permanently."

"I agree with TJ." Cromwell spoke up. He broke open a roll and spread butter on it. "In addition, you have to make an example of Aguirre. You don't kill him. You ruin him."

The object of the discussion - Ethan Aguirre - was the recently appointed district attorney that had began a concentrated assault on Giambi's legal and illegal enterprises. Lucio had weathered cocky and self-confident prosecutors before; what was different this time was that Aguirre's investigations had come perilously close - at least to Lucio's top systems genius - to breaching one of his organization's firewalls. Giaan had needed some extra muscle - in the form of ODIN's assistance - to deflect the attack and shore up their defenses. The young crime lord needed some advice. TJ and Bobby represented a wealth of experience and knowledge from the now-assimilated Leone and Franqui crime families. Xander - running Lucio's new businesses in the Pacific - was also present. Giambi found it pleasantly surprising how well the geneticist had taken to running a criminal enterprise.

A knock at the door, and Giaan and Ariane entered. The handsome desi was dressed in a pair of snug cargo pants and a tight ringer t-shirt that rippled across his broad chest; Ariane looked breathtaking in a red silk blouse, a black pencil skirt that highlighted her long legs, and spiked Louboutin heels. Both the systems genius and the twisted Russian psychologist were smiling.

"We've got some great news, boss!" The indian beamed.

Giambi arched an eyebrow. "You won the lottery?"

"Even better zhan zat, Lucio." Zutrovna looked extremely pleased with herself as she curled sensuously into a chair.

"It turns out zat Aguirre had taken the CLEAT exam a few times ... and the score vas ... impressive... Giaan found his tests buried in zome archive..."

Ariane smiled at the darkly handsome programmer. He continued. "One of the exams was before Ariane's modifications, but the score is consistent... we needed to hand code that exam to make an accurate comparison..."

Lucio cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Three hundred. Give or take a point."

Shocked, Xander and Lucio looked at each other. Of all the men in the room, they knew the incredible significance of that measurement most of all. Giaan's grin grew even larger.

Xander leaned back in his seat and gave the others present a feral grin. "Well, well ... that changes the landscape! With that information, I have just the person to take care of him ... 'ruin' is too mild a word for what Jake Sclafani is going to do to our rather persistent district attorney."

* * *

"FUCK!" Aguirre slammed down the phone. Ethan was a ruggedly handsome man, with thick, wavy, raven-black hair and grey eyes. His muscular physique was barely disguised by the expensive shirt he wore and his trousers were cut to perfection, showing powerful legs beneath the worsted wool. He opened the collar button of his shirt and pulled down his tie in frustration. Ebon hair peeked out of at the hollow of his throat. After being incommunicado for over a week, Eugene - his hacker for hire - had developed a yellow streak and refused to assist him any further. Four months of work down the drain! His darkly hirsute hands ran through his hair and he let out another stream of invective. Goddamn Giambi! How did he get to him? He grabbed his jacket and headed out of his private office. His assistant looked up with surprise as he slammed the door behind him.

"I'm leaving early. No calls, no beeps, and no pages until tomorrow!"

He stormed out of the building.

* * *
The cell phone trilled. Sclafani flipped it open.

"G'day, Dr. Lecter..."

Sclafani chuckled. It was deep and full and contained more than a hint of the purest evil. "Gage, love - how are you? To what honour do I owe this phone call?"

Jake Sclafani was an enigma. An ex-fighter, the thug possessed a brilliant, albeit twisted mind and a near-infinite capability for inflicting physical as well as psychological terror. In addition, he was an amazing chemist. Gage Hewitt had followed a serpentine trail that led to the other man and recruited him into the criminal organization he was building along with Xander Cannon.

"I have a job that I think you'll enjoy Jake. Something a bit off the beaten path..."

"I'm listening ..."

"We need to have someone snatched from the States. Not killed, mind you..."

"Uh-huh ..."

"We'd like him to be one of your 'special projects' ..."

Jake perked up. Oh, this was going to be fun. "You really know how to make a bloke happy, Gage. Anything you want me to do in particular for the finished product?"

"No. We've always been very happy with your results. I'll leave the details to you. I'll messenger over the plane tickets and other reference materials."

"Sounds good, mate! Thanks!"

* * *

Aguirre continued to fume as he got in his car and drove away. His mind was only half on the road when he heard a crash and jerked in his seat. He looked in the rearview mirror to see the rough-looking man in the pickup behind him look apologetic. I don't need this shit right now ... He motioned to the man to follow him off the highway and onto a side road. The man got out of the truck and pulled off his cap. He wrung it in his hands as the two of them inspected the damage. He was bald with a mean look about him and had a dagger-shaped tattoo on his neck.

"Mister, I'm so sorry ... it was all my fault. Just got here and still not used to driving on the other side of the road."

The other driver had an Australian accent. "My brother-in-law owns a garage. I'll pay for the repairs. Let's not get the insurance company involved? Please?"

He knelt down. "See? It's not that bad. Looks like we can just replace the fender and the light cage ..."

Ethan squatted down to look at the area of damage. He felt a sharp sting in his neck and saw the man holding an empty hypodermic as he blacked out and crumpled to the ground.

* * *

DISTRICT ATTORNEY VANISHES!
Santa Monica Daily Press 
April 21, 2009


Police are still tracking down leads and information regarding the disappearance of District Attorney Ethan Aguirre. Aguirre's late model Lexus was found abandoned on a side road just north of the Vincent Avenue exit. Local police are encouraging anyone with information regarding the disappearance to contact them at 310-555-1456.

* * *

Ethan woke with a burning thirst. His lips were cracked and his throat was parched; the last thing he remembered was bending down to look at his taillight with the Australian. He forced open his eyes to see his naked body immobilized on some hard metal platform. Rubber gaskets covered his powerful wrists and ankles; over them and around his chest and waist, heavy metal bands kept him clamped to the table. Where the fuck am I? The room was stiflingly hot and sweat poured off his naked body, making it glisten in the overhead lights. Despite of (or maybe because of) the situation, he found himself thick and hard. The smell of his own sweat, combined with the bitter scent of fear, only served to unconsciously arouse the lawyer further.

Aguirre heard a noise and weakly turned his head. A door opened and the Australian came into the room.

"G'day, Ethan ... glad to see you're awake. Feeling better?"

"Wha ..." the former DA croaked.

"Here ... take a sip." Jake held up a sports container with a built-in straw to the other man's lips. Ethan pulled the cool water into his mouth. "Not so fast, love ... you'll get cramps. Slowly." Aguirre greedily finished the water, albeit at a slower pace.

"Where am I? Why did you kidnap me?"

Sclafani stroked the other man's chest. "You've upset quite a lot of people, Mr. Aguirre. It seems someone put a contract put on your life."

The lawyer thrashed in his bonds. "Giambi! Damn, him!"

Sclafani clamped a strong hand onto Aguirre's jaw. "Listen to me! Lucio Giambi didn't order the hit. He bought off the contract!" His eyes bored into the captive man below him. "Do you understand?" The baldfaced lies slipped effortlessly past his lips. Jake could be wired up to a polygraph and emphatically state he was Diana Ross without the needles moving a millimeter.

"Huh?"

Jake continued to stroke the other man's chest. "That's right. You would have been dead except for the man you were trying to prosecute. Seeing you now, I'm glad I didn't have to kill you. I have much better plans." One side of his mouth quirked upwards in a lopsided smile.

Ethan shivered despite the heat in the room. "What do you mean?"

Jake kissed the center of the lawyer's chest. "Think of me as your saviour - which I am - and your creator. I'm going to make you into what you've always wanted to be." He brushed a lock of soot-black hair back from Aguirre's forehead. "I'll be back soon."

* * *
RUNAWAY DA? - BANK HAS DAMNING PROOF
Santa Monica Daily PressMay 10, 2009


Tips continue to pour in for the ongoing disappearance of District Attorney Ethan Aguirre. While much of the information has resulted in dead ends, an unsubstantiated report has surfaced describing a man matching Aguirre's description on a flight to Australia. Police have not responded to repeated requests for further information on this new development. Bank records obtained by this publication indicate a substantial withdrawal of funds a few days before Aguirre's sudden disappearance. Anyone with further information regarding this matter should contact 310-555-1456.

* * *

Sclafani continued to attend to the captive attorney each day. Despite his rough appearance, Aguirre's captor/savior was exceedingly gentle with his prisoner most of the time. Each day, he forced the other man through hours of weight training and exercise at gunpoint. After a cool shower, he was marched back into his cell and again shackled to the table. The room was always kept uncomfortably hot and Ethan welcomed the cool drinks that Jake brought him several times a day.

Today was different. Jake entered the room and clamped a heavy metal band around the other man's waist and locked it in place. He then undid each of the clamps on the lawyer's wrists and attached them to the restraints built into the metal band at his midsection. Aguirre knew better than to resist anymore...

* * *

The first time Jake had released him from his bonds, he had tried to escape. Jake wore a sleeveless rubber top with a pair of latex chaps. A black latex jockstrap with a red stripe down the middle barely disguised the huge package it was holding. Ethan gave the Australian a right uppercut that staggered him and rushed out the door. He got as far as the end of the corridor where another heavy metal door barred his exit.

"Ethan, you little bastard..." Aguirre spun around at the sound of his captor's voice.

Sclafani rubbed his jaw and smiled at the other man. "Not bad, bloke ... but that was a tap compared to what I've had thrown at me. Love, one thing you haven't quite learned yet is that I own you. I bought you. You're my property. And ... I can do anything I want to you."

In a flash, Jake landed a series of blows that had Ethan crumpled on the floor and wheezing painfully. Blood dribbled from a split lip and a broken nose. Jake pulled the rubber jock aside and pinned him to the floor. Then with his knee, spread the other man's legs apart. Ethan continued to moan in pain.

“So thought you were going to get out of here, eh?” Sclafani snarled, “Well mate, tonight you’re going to be a piece of ass. The first time of many. Get used to it!” He rubbed a finger over Aguirre's pucker. “Mmmm...nice and tight, but not for long…” and he gave an evil laugh that made the lawyer shudder.

He stuck his long, thick finger into his mouth and then pushed that finger against the captive's tight ass; shoving it in roughly to the first knuckle.

“Aaaahhhhh!!!!” Ethan screamed.

“You’re going to be such a good slut, boy.” The captive lay there weakly struggling as Jake slammed the finger the rest of the way up into his hot slippery chute. His ass gripped the other's fingers. Sclafani slammed another digit in and Aguirre screamed as his ass burned. The district attorney's cock betrayed him by hardening and his Master smiled down knowing that he was right and Ethan was fucked ... fucked in every way possible. "Good boy..."

Jake slipped his fingers out of his slave's hole and lined up his big, thick 9” cock against it and slammed every inch deep within him. Ethan cried out, tears pouring down his face and mixing with blood as Sclafani penetrated him hard and rough - pistoning in and out, truly owning him. The Australian's balls pounded his ass as he fucked him over and over again. Aguirre could feel that sack tighten and fill as he got close to erupting; Jake bent over and bit down on one of his nips -- he looked into the other's face and said, “Who owns you, boy? Answer me!

“You do,” Ethan whispered in a mix of agony and pleasure … And as he said those damning words Aguirre felt Sclafani's cock pulsate as he shot load after load into his waiting sweaty hole.

* * *

Another time, Ethan woke to find Jake staring intently at him. The room lights had dimmed and he could just make out the figure of his captor. Sclafani clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, cutting off all air to the shackled attorney. He struggled within his bonds as the hand clamped down tighter; black stars swam before his eyes. His entire body felt electrified and he felt himself grow and thicken. Just as fast as it had appeared, the strong hand was removed and Aguirre sucked in draughts of air. Jake's hand clamped down again and although Ethan's body spasmed from the lack of oxygen; he felt his cock swell and his balls churn. The hand was removed again as the lawyer's body struggled to recuperate.

"No. No more. Please. Jake. Please..." Aguirre panted.

"Your mind's saying 'No', boy... but your body's saying 'Yes' ..." Sclafani chuckled as he trailed his hand down the ridged abs and brushed a rough thumb across the sensitive slit. Ethan erupted. A pearlescent arc splattered his across his stomach and his settled within the deep crevasse between his pecs.

"See? I know what you need Ethan, even if you don't want to admit it. Even to yourself." Jake rubbed the spunk into the other man's chest. "I'll be back in the morning to clean you up before your workout."

He left the captive with tears rolling down his face and the smell of sex in the air. Aguirre sobbed in the darkness. He's right He's right He's right He's right He's right He's right echoed deep in his head.

* * *

Jake undid the clamps around his ankles and Ethan swung his legs off the table; he put his bare feet on the floor and winced. Jake caught the expression of pain that fleeted across his slave's face. Sclafani had let Aguirre's nose heal by itself; it was now slightly bent and with a large bump. The Australian found it extremely erotic.

"What's the matter?"

"My feet are tingling." He opened and closed his hands. "My hands feel a little funny too." Sclafani gripped some chest hair between his fingers and yanked. Ethan expected to feel pain, but the hair came out easily. Too easily. His Master smiled. "Time to start you on the antidote, you handsome bastard."

Aguirre had lost a good deal of the cockiness that had defined the high-powered district attorney. Over the time of his captivity, he had realized with despair that he was totally dependent on the other man. That - more than anything else - had sapped his will and his independence.

"Antidote? You've been poisoning me?" A spark of anger tinged with fear could be heard in his voice.

Sclafani patted his ass. "I've been giving you low doses of thallium acetate. Used to be used as a rat poison, but at the levels you've ingested, it has a different effect. That tingling you're feeling means that it's done it work. It permanently kills all your hair follicles."

Aguirre looked at him in shock. Smiling, Jake Sclafani continued. "I like my boys smooth. That tingling is the beginning of nerve damage. Oh, it's completely reversible ... if treated now. If I don't give you the antidote, soon you'll be paralyzed and unable to breathe. 'Course, I have no intention of throwing away a perfectly good slave. C'mon Ethan, let's get some Prussian Blue into you and get you all nice and tidy..." Jake attached a spreader bar to the restraints around Aguirre's ankles.

* * *

Ethan and Jake left his cell and traveled down the corridor. Aguirre was sick with the thought that the man beside him had been slowly poisoning him, yet knew that he would be well cared for; that dichotomy made his head spin. Jake opened a door and gently pushed his captive in.

"Stand by that wall, love. Let me get ready."

Aguirre shuffled away from his captor as Jake opened a drawer and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. From a cabinet he removed a large plastic container with a screw top and a glass jar containing a blue powder. He measured a portion of the blue material into a sports drink container, added water and shook it vigorously. He pulled the lawyer to the center of the room and hooked the spreader bar into hooks set into the floor. He then proceeded to unfasten his wrists from the waistband and bind them to a spreader bar hanging from the ceiling. Ethan was stretched tight, but not uncomfortably so. The Australian then removed the metal strap from his midsection.

"Mmmmm .... you're as fit as a Mallee bull now ... but I think you need to do a few more side planks..." Sclafani stroked the other's chiseled midsection. Aguirre guiltily reveled in the caresses from the other man. "Here, drink up." He held up the container's straw to the attorney's lips. "No drama, Ethan ... you'll be fine." Aguirre drank the liquid. "Good boy. You're very special to me - remember that."

Jake moved over to the container and opened it. A citrus scent wafted into the air. "This is a very strong hair remover. Whatever the thallium didn't kill, this will finish off. But before I put this on, let's get you prepped."

The Australian grasped a handful of hair and yanked. Just as easily as his chest, a clump of Ethan's hair drifted to the floor. Aguirre jerked his head away. Sclafani slapped him hard - open handed - across the face. "One dose of the antidote won't do you much good. Stand still! I know what's best for you!" Once he finished with the other man's head, he moved down to the crotch. When he was done, the former DA was surrounded by a pile of dark thatch.

"Ahh ... that's way better!" Jake brought the container over and began to slather the material over the other man - on his head, his face, his neck, on his chest and arms and down his back. He continued to slather the creme down the attorney's legs and spread extra amounts onto his crotch and into his pucker. When he finished, he stood back and smiled - admiring his handiwork.

"I'll be back in a tick!"

* * *
Jake returned in about a quarter hour, dragging a bucket full of water into the room with him. The Australian knelt down and wrung out a sponge floating in the bucket. Humming to himself, he began to rub off and rinse the creme from the captive. Sclafani proceeded upwards on the body shackled before him, leaving smooth, muscular skin in his wake. Ethan stared down at his glistening, hairless body and found himself growing painfully aroused. His cock - now free of any obscuring hair - looked larger and thicker than ever before. He stared at it in fascination as it grew dark and turgid with desire. Being immobilized as he was, and having the other man wash him was intensely erotic.

After removing the creme from the American's neck, he took a smaller sponge and began working on his face and head. "You're a right gorgeous bastard now, Ethan ..." Sclafani ran his lips across the hard line of Aguirre's now-smooth jaw. "Close your eyes, love ... I don't want to get any of this runoff in them."

Ethan's lids closed. He felt Jake place something at the edge of left eye and with a slight tug, felt his eyelashes come loose. Aquirre's eyes flew snapped open in panic. The captor stroked the face of other man. "I told you I like my boys smooth ... no hair at all. Close your eyes, love - we're almost done."

Aguirre's eyelids fluttered shut again. Sclafani kissed the now hairless eyelid. Aguirre felt the mechanism on the right side of his face. With another mild tug, the lashes were removed from the other eye.

"Keep them screwed tight, love ... I've got a little more hair remover to wash off."

Jake proceeded to finish wiping off Aguirre's forehead, removing his eyebrows and the last vestiges of his dark hair. A powerful hairless slave now stood before him. Now for the final steps.

"You can open your eyes now." Jake stripped off his gloves and moved over to the counter to uncover three large hypodermic needles. He lifted the first one to the light and tapped it to remove any bubbles. Sclafani pushed a switch and the upper spreader bar was hoisted towards the ceiling. Ethan found himself painfully stretched and unable to move an inch. Every muscle in his body cried out in protest. The Australian tied some rubber tubing around Aguirre's massive bicep and tapped the inside of his elbow until the vein popped up.

"I discovered this combination quite by accident ... this first shot is a residual poison. Once I administer it, it never leaves your body. The results are spectacularly painful ... and deadly ... if you don't regularly take the antidote."

Sclafani wiped the skin with an alcohol pad before sliding the needle in and pushing down the plunger. Ethan moaned as the poison coursed down his arm and into his body. His captor picked up the next needle and slid it into his arm.

"This one is a synthetic hormone. It makes sure you're going to have fun."

He chuckled. "It fixes your sex drive at a much higher level and also makes you sexually more versatile. It's also going to loosen any self-consciousness or inhibitions you may have. That's a good thing since the antidote to the residual poison is semen. You're going to need to fill yourself up with cum every twelve hours. But then again, you're going to be hungry for cock all the time now ..."

Ethan screamed himself hoarse as a pulsing wave of lust spread throughout his body. He panted in pain and shock, each exhale exposing a ripped and shredded muscular abdomen.

"There's also some selective memory loss ... never was able to fix that ..." Jake said matter-of-factly.

Ethan's head dropped forward in exhaustion and Jake loosened the spreader bar holding the attorney's body taut. The Australian released Ethan from both sets up restraints and let the young man collapse onto the floor.

Then, as if he had been mortally shot, Aguirre's lungs expelled screaming air and all the muscles in his body surged in one final convulsive motion. Ethan struggled and cried out . . . but his moans only accentuated the futility of resisting the changes being wrought within his body.

Jake pulled out a chair and watched the other man writhe before him. "The battle to resist is pointless, love. You'll learn that your most important assets are your chute and your lips that wrap tightly around a cock. Your servitude will center around it. Your life will revolve around it. Do you understand, Ethan?" There was no response.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Aguirre broke. His mind cracked from the kidnapping, the poisoning, the beatings and this final, exhausting ordeal.

Ethan's panting slowed and stopped. He began to sob. He raised his head to see Sclafani move towards the door. His body experienced an emptiness so frightening that he cried out to his captor, extending his trembling arms to touch him. "NO, Jake! Please...don't leave me! I NEED YOU! Please ...do whatever you want to me . . . please! ...FUCK ME! Oh God, Oh God ... I need some dick! I need it NOW!"

Jake stopped and turned. And like a drunken sailor, the handsome hunk slowly crawled to the feet of his owner, prepared to submit his flesh to the thustings he now acknowledged he wanted and needed desperately. With trepidation, he touched Sclafani's booted feet. "Jake, Jake, please, please ... fill me up, plow my ass, fuck me hard, do anything you want!" His muscled body was wracked with sobs. Jake squatted down and held him; the Australian rocked him gently and stroked the hairless head.

Sclafani picked up the last needle. Ethan looked at him.

"What's that?"

"You've been through a lot today, love. This one's just a sedative. It'll give your body a chance to get used to it's new equilibrium." As the needle plunged home, Aguirre felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him as he sagged, unconscious, in Jake's arms.

* * *

Ethan Woodward woke up and stretched. He walked over to the washbasin and splashed some water on his face. He stared at the rugged, hairless visage in the mirror and smiled. Damn, Jake was right! I look so fucking good without any hair! He massaged his hard cock and balls encircled by the heavy steel ring. With the exception of that piece of body jewelry, he was naked. Jake kept him that way, but he enjoyed being naked anyway. Woodward sighed and fondled his rock-hard abs and thick pecs, tracing the plateaus and deep crevasses of his body. He loved looking at himself and feeling the hard muscles of his incredible physique.

The door to his small room opened, and Sclafani walked in. He gave his property a deep kiss. "Good morning, Ethan love ... ready for some breakfast?" Ethan sank to his knees in front of his owner.

Again, Sclafani was wearing a sleeveless, tight black latex shirt with latex chaps that hugged every inch of his powerful legs. He wore a black latex jock with a red stripe down the middle. Woodward waited with anticipation for him to pull it aside and expose his tool to be serviced. Jake chuckled and pulled aside the latex covering his erect cock.

Ethan began to lick the thickly veined nine inches and soon swallowed it whole. The two men established a powerful rhythm, with the hairless slave holding onto the hard ass of the Australian, as Jake held his smooth head and thrust himself in and out and down the other man's throat. After a short time, Ethan felt the thick meat in his mouth swell and valiantly tried to swallow the huge load being ingested by him. Sclafani bellowed as he pumped his seed into the kneeling man. Finally, he pulled out. A dribble of silvery goo escaped Woodward's lips as he smiled up at his owner. His tongue darted out to grab the remaining fluid.

He laid his head against a rubber-clad thigh. "Thanks, boss. You're so good to me."

Sclafani had been quite thorough creating a new identity and integrating a set of memories for his slave. "Ethan Woodward" had been born into a dirt-poor family and had joined the US Marine Corps to escape his life of squalor. Unfortunately, he found that his urges could not be controlled among so many handsome, muscular and dominant men. One night, he quietly left the base and found himself in the seedy outskirts of Melbourne. Jake had taken him in, taken care of him and made him into the sex machine he was now. Ethan loved cock - and Jake made sure that he was never without it.

The slave sank bank on his haunches and began to stroke himself. He rubbed the copious amounts of pre-cum onto his shaft as it grew larger and more purple with need. He began to pant with exertion as he neared his climax.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!" a stream of pearlescent silver erupted from him, splattering his chest and face. He wiped the fluid from his cheeks and broken nose and licked his fingers clean. He then proceeded to gather the material from his torso and transfer it to his mouth. What was left he rubbed into his skin.

"I've got a surprise for you, love ..."

Ethan looked up. "Really?"

Jake nodded. "You're going to a party tonight ... and you're the guest of honor!"

* * *

After an extremely strenuous workout and having his ass pounded by his owner, Ethan took a shower and relaxed under the warm water. His chute burned with the pleasant pain and he looked forward to the party tonight. Jake had brought him his outfit - a pair of camo pants, black boots, a combat cap and tight, black leather gloves. Just looking at the clothing made him hard.

Woodward left the shower and toweled himself dry. He slipped on the pants and started lacing up his boots. The camo pants were snug and each time he moved, the rough material rubbed against his slit; he started to leak. I hope I can control myself until we get to the party. He placed the cap on his head and pulled it low so his eyes were shadowed by the brim. Finally, he slipped on the black leather gloves. Ethan eyed himself in the mirror and grinned. I never looked this good in uniform before!

Jake knocked on the door and opened it. He was in his latex outfit again. He stood in shock at the young man before him. Ethan looked worried.

"Do I look okay, boss?"

Sclafani recovered quickly. "You look amazing, Ethan! I can tell right now they'll be no lack of interest in YOU tonight!"

Woodward stepped forward and embraced the Australian. "You know boss, I'd be nothing without you. I was lower than dirt. Thank you for taking care of me and training me right. I'll make you proud of me at the party!" Ethan gave the other man a gentle kiss on the lips.

Jake returned the kiss and stroked the other man's back. Ethan sighed and snuggled into the other man's embrace. "You've made me proud right now, boy. You're everything I wanted you to be. Are you happy?"

"I've never been happier in my life!"


"Now a couple of things to know before we leave. All of the men at the party are in a paramilitary group ... always respond with 'Sir' when you talk to any of them, okay?"

The hairless slave nodded.

"The commander is a very strict man. If he tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked." Jake grinned. "He's also very handsome..."

Ethan smiled and licked his lips.

"... and he's outside ... he wants to give you a once-over first."

Gage entered the room and it filled with his presence. He was dressed in a skintight t-shirt over snug blue jeans and sported a short buzzcut. A light stubble covered his square jaw and cheeks. The commander's blue-green eyes drilled into the slave and he gave him a wicked grin. The crooked scar bisecting his right eye gave him an intimidating appearance, and he exuded an aura of barely contained violence.

"Mmmmm ... you've a good looking boy here, Jake. But looks aren't everything. Let' see if he's good enough for servicing my men."

Gage grabbed Ethan by the crotch of his camos. He yanked on his package and pulled him further into the room; the commander kicked the door shut. He felt the slave's package, his ass, his legs, his tight stomach, his chest, arms and back. When he backed off, Ethan could still feel his hands feeling him up all over his body. The rough handling aroused something deep within him.

Then it started. "Nice body, boy" he said as he ran his fingertips over Woodward's chest, paying extra attention to his nipples. He rubbed and fondled them as he moved over the six pack abs. His gentle, yet firm hand tickled the slave's stomach and made him quiver.

"I think you need a good skull-fuck, what do you say about that?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Ethan sank to his knees, put his teeth on Gage's zipper and pulled down. Hewitt was commando. The slave then fished out his dick using tongue and lips; it was about five or six inches soft.

"Oh, wow ..." he looked at the heavy steel PA at the tip of the other man's tool.

He put the cock in his mouth and rolled it around, moistening it with his saliva and savoring the taste. It began to lengthen and thicken, until Woodward was hard pressed to wrap his lips around the huge package of meat. Gage grabbed him on either side of the head and began to thrust. The commander pulled the slave's head forward and pushed his tool deep into the other man's throat. Hewlitt established a brutal rhythm but the slave managed to keep up with the other Australian. Ethan nearly choked, but kept going - Jake had trained him well. With a scream, Gage pulled Ethan's face into his crotch and exploded down his throat. Hewlitt put a booted foot on the slave's chest and pushed him to the ground.

"Christ Almighty! He's amazing!!!" The commander panted.

"I told you he was good..." Jake snickered.

Gage grinned at the prostrate man. "Ethan, you're going to make my men VERY happy..."

Ethan wearily grinned back.

* * *

"SETTLE DOWN LADS! SETTLE DOWN!"
Gage bellowed. The men in the studio - in various stages of undress - looked expectantly at their commander. Passions had been running high, and the smell of sex hung in the air. Already, some of the soldieri had begun to engage each other, while others looked on hungrily. "Oliver! If you can stop fingering Daffyd for a moment??"

"Sorry, Gage. You know what a fucking cocktease Daffyd is ..."

Hewitt gave him a mock-serious frown. "That's besides the point, Oliver." He paused. "You've all gone through some extensive training these few weeks, and all of you passed with flying colors! I promised you in the beginning that I'd have something for you at your graduation, and it's right outside the door ..."

"What is it, sir?" Taigh Ranney asked. Taigh was a former jewel thief and now one of Gage's top assassins. His short spiky hair framed a strong, handsome visage and a 100-watt grin split his face. He was wearing a white tank and black rowers. The shorts were opened to show off his oversized bulge barely held in place by a white jock.

"Who ... not what, you handsome bastard!" Gage grinned. He opened the door and six sets of eyes stared at Ethan.

"Gents, I want you to meet Ethan - he's your graduation gift!" He paused. "MEN! WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION?", he bellowed.

Six clenched fists pumped into the air. "HOOOO! HOOOO!" Six throats roared back. Staring at the array of muscular male flesh in front of him, Ethan looked like a little boy on Christmas morning. Hewitt opened the hidden zipper in the back of the camo pants and gave the slave's muscular ass a squeeze.

"Go ahead, Ethan ... have fun. Make the men happy."

Woodward beamed. "Thank you, Sir. I will! I will!"

The twins - Cable and Bran Stirling - were the first to make a move. The two were trained as battle couriers. Nothing and no one could stand in their way when they were on a mission.

Cable was closely shaved with a heavily tattooed sleeve running down one muscular arm. He also wore a fatigue cap similar to Ethan's. Bran was wearing a faded red ball cap with a white t-shirt and not much else. He had a closely cropped dark beard and an elaborate tattoo circling his large bicep.

Bran gave Ethan a hard look. "Blowjob. Now."

Ethan turned his cap around and dropped to his knees. "Sir, Yes Sir!"

In the meantime, Cable had grabbed a container of lube and was proceeding to thrust his thick eight inches into the slave's hungry chute. The two brothers worked into an effortless give-and-take as they attacked Ethan from both ends.

Jake and Gage looked on in satisfaction.

"I still can't believe that he was a district attorney! He's a pure power bottom now! God, he loves dick!"

Jake laughed. "Complete psychotic break. After I gave him the thallium treatment, he was teetering on the brink of madness anyway. He had all the psychological indicators of a perfect slave - he just needed the right stimulus to bring those latent desires to the fore. A couple of custom chemicals I mixed up, some post-hypnotic suggestions with false memories, and there you have it ... 'Ethan Woodward', former marine, and now, cocksucker extraordinaire!"

"Lucio is going to be quite pleased with this, Jake. Great job as always."

Jake stared at his creation. "Thanks, mate ... By the by, look at the way he's stroking Cable's tats ... what do you think about me inking him up?"

Gage stroked his chin. "I think he'd look good in a full torso tribal. He's got the build and it would make him happy, wouldn't it?"

Jake nodded.

"Lord, I love my job..."

* * *

A (PORN) STAR IS BORN
Santa Monica Daily Press
October 21, 2009



The disappearance of District Attorney Ethan Aguirre has come to a surprising close, much to the chagrin of the mayor, police and other employees of the district attorney's office. This paper had followed the tip regarding a man resembling Aguirre traveling on a plane to Australia and the withdrawal of a large sum of cash several days prior to his disappearance. Ethan Aguirre - now "Ethan Woodward" -- makes regular appearances in a series of gay pornographic films distributed by Thor Pacific, PTY. Apart from some minor cosmetic changes - Aguirre appears to be completely shaved from head to toe, heavily tattooed, and sports a broken nose - identification was 100 percent positive. From Charles McKesson, the VP of the film studio -- "We have no knowledge of Mr. Woodward's prior occupation or activities. He applied for a position with Thor Pacific, we gave him a screen test and he was a complete success. Our sales have picked up considerably since his introduction and we hope to have him appear in many more films. He's a natural."

* * *

There have been a few times that I've stepped out of my "comfort zone" and this was one of them. Like the request I had before for the Henry Cavill story, this request came from a friend that wanted to see a bit more of the BDSM side of the demimonde. I took it on mainly for providing a vehicle for my SPFX Thug mask - the alter-ego I created named "Jake."

Jake - in my opinion - was to be everything that I wasn't; sadistic, cruel and completely amoral. This was the hard part, since regardless of their professions - crime boss, assassin or vampire - all of my characters do possess some degree of humanity. Jake was to have none of that.

The original plot outline called for Ethan to be kidnapped and poisoned and have full knowledge of his predicament as a sex slave. I was also going to have him be forcibly inked and that particular action would have triggered a complete mental breakdown. Then he was to be the permanent "Rubber Toy" for SMD once he was "trained" in Australia.

However, that part of the story was giving me problems - mainly, because it was too complicated. I was introducing too many moving parts which was adding very little to the story itself. So I trashed that idea. I like the way I ended the story better. It's cleaner - and in my opinion, this is something Lucio would have done. He's removed an impediment to his operations and at the same time, made him a profitable part of his business.

I also found that for the latter parts of the story, I needed to flesh out Ethan's trans formation from DA to slave. This necessitated a second photo shoot to show the depths to which Aguirre was brought. I also seem to be obsessed with muscular bald men (with or without ink) lately, so I also indulged my fantasies here with that, too.

Toxicologically, thallium was often used as a poison and one of it's names was "inheritance powder." It's use as a depilatory too was frequent, but soon lost its cachet due to its unfortunate side effect - death.

Finally, I wanted to give a nod to '300' in the way Gage rallied his cadre of rogues. These new soldieri are a part of Lucio's pan-Pacific operations. For my own well-being (and yes, vanity), I've also been assiduously doing some fairly intense exercises modeled on the 300 workouts you see on Youtube. I have to say that they are working, as you can see in the Ethan shots. I'm in better shape now, than I was when I was in my twenties!

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

In the works ...

Hi all,

I get requests from time to time, and right now I am working on a very DARK story that was suggested to me. Like the Henry Cavill entry, this is a bit of a stretch, but it's coming along. I hope to have it done by the end of the week.

I'm also working on my Halloween 2009 story. THAT is going to need an additional photoshoot. Keep your fingers crossed!

Patrick

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Inked

I was leaning provocatively against his desk with my arms crossed over my chest. My bald head gleamed in the overhead lights and my sleeve was prominently displayed, highlighting the tight cotton t-shirt stretched over my slabbed pecs. The studs in my ears twinkled. My package was an obscene bulge in white denim and I gave him bright and wicked grin.

"Miss me?"

Donny continued to stare at me. I chuckled. "A lawyer at a loss for words. Now I've seen everything."

I walked slowly over and wrapped my arms around him. As usual, he felt amazingly good. Then I slid my hands down past the waistband of his jeans and pulled him close. "So are you shocked and awed?"

The spell was broken. My lover spun me around and started to nibble my jaw. I shivered. The scent of him - overlaid with his A*Men cologne - drove me mad. He began to pepper my neck with gentle kisses. My hands rose up his back and began to trace elaborate patterns through his thin shirt, feeling his muscles; feeling him. God, how I missed the press of his body against mine!

"Oh, darlin', these six weeks have been hell!" He held my face in his hands and kissed me. Slowly. Tenderly. Donny ran his fingers over my now-bald skull and fondled the diamond studs in my ears. "Mmmmm ... nice."

He cocked a black eyebrow at me. "Six weeks to finish up business in New York, hmmm? You do know the penalty for perjury, don't you, Mr. Gardner?" His blue eyes were laughing and he gave my bulge a provocative squeeze.

I nibbled back. "I wanted it to be a surprise. The sleeve, I mean. Jeff said to say hello, by the way..."

Donny took my arm and examined the biomechanical tattoos. "It's beautiful, Jared. It fits you to a tee." He wrapped my arm back around him and continued to kiss me.

"I told Dylan he needs to get one, too."

Cook laughed. "You're a diabolic influence on that boy, sweetheart ... now I know why he just asked for a month off!"

My back was to the door of his office; all of a sudden I felt him tense. "Donny, what's the mat-"

"Donovan, it's bad enough that you're hiring Philistines into this firm, but we are drawing the line at you fornicating with one of your convicts!"

I turned around to face two older men standing just inside Donny's office. One was spindly with sharp features; the other was a heavyset, florid man with a horrible comb-over.

"Alex. Jacob. How good of you to stop by ... no estates to plunder today?" Cook's voice held a biting note of contempt and his normally handsome face was somewhat twisted by a sneer. This was a side of him I had never seen before. His prosecutorial side. This was going to be good.

"There's going to be some changes in this company, Donovan Cook! You're going to start with firing Dylan Forrester. Then we insist that you-"

"I'll do no such thing. And just who the hell do you think you are? Insist? Between the two of you, you own less than 15% of this firm! And when was the last time you actually did any work? Billed any hours?" He barely raised his voice, but the other two men nearly cringed. I figured I'd sit back and watch the show. I sauntered over to the couch and draped myself over it. Donny gave me a look that said Tone it down! - I gave him a wink and pulled a piece of fruit from a nearby bowl and eyed it appreciatively. I love red delicious apples.

The other man - the fat one - started up. "You think you're untouchable, don't you? Well, those airs of yours aren't going to do you a damn bit of good when we have a serious discussion with the Martindale heir. You've gotten too big for your britches! You and your... your... ilk walk around here dressed like a male whores! By the time we get done with him, we'll have him thinking you're stealing him blind!"

My ears pricked up. Oh, I could sell this storyline to Lifetime Movie Network in a heartbeat. "Those are pretty baseless accusations ... Mr. Cook is a fine, upstanding man. He wouldn't cheat a fly." I had completely lost my Yankee diction and now had a soft Southern accent of my own.

The fat one looked daggers at me. "And what the hell do you know, you goddamn piece of white trash? Is he defending you, or did he just pick you up in some halfway house for a quick fuck? From the looks of it, you've been in DWCC ... for what? Statutory rape? Sodomy? You're nothing but some uneducated, ex-convict male prostitute, so shut the fuck up!" He turned to the open office door. "Miss Sutherland, come in here, please."

Debbie came into the office and looked at the tableau in front of her - the two older lawyers huffing and puffing; Donny looking at them like something he needed to scrape off his shoe; and me, lounging on the couch. I gave her a bright grin and blew her a kiss.

"I want you to give me the number for the Martindale heir right now! I'm going to set up an appointment with Mr. Lee and myself. It's extremely urgent that we speak with him as soon as possible."

"You mean Jared Martindale-Gardner, Mr. Dayton?"

"Yes, him. Do it now!"

"But Mr. Dayton, he's-"

I put my finger to my lips and shooed her out of the office. Donny gave me a quizzical look. I gave him a wicked smile back. Hell, this was a perfect coming-home present. Debbie returned with a slip of paper and handed it to the gangly lawyer. He strode over to the phone and began to dial.

"Donny ... don't you think these two should go? I mean, wouldn't you be better off with Dylan as a partner? He's not only brighter and more honest, but he's a helluva lot easier on the eyes..."

"I would, love, I definitely would. But I'd have to buy them out. And they're not worth the money. You know how cheap I can be..."

"I'll spot you, sweetheart. Think of it as an early Valentines Day gift."

The two partners looked back and forth between us with puzzled glances. At that point, the cell in my jacket went off.

"Excuse me."

I reached up over the couch to grab the phone. I felt my shirt ride up and from the gasps behind me, the red jock must have been partially visible above the low rise white denim. I looked at the incoming number and flipped open the phone. I looked straight at the thin lawyer.

"Hello, Mr. Dayton." My voice echoed from the speaker on the desk phone.

The two lawyers looked at me in amazement. Alex Dayton turned white as a sheet. I flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the couch.

"Gentlemen, I don't think I've introduced you to Jared Martindale-Gardner. You barged into my office before I had the chance..."

I got up from the sofa and put out my hand. "Jared Martindale-Gardner, white trash sodomite and uneducated male prostitute. Nice to meet you."

"Mr. Gardner, I'm so sorry ... I had no idea that you were-"

I cut him off. "Donny, since I was a witness to this conversation, anything I can do to help?"

Cook's eyes glittered and a cold smile spread across his features. I could just imagine the malevolent plans running through that razor-sharp mind. "I believe so, Jared. After I get done with the disbarment procedures, I'm going to sue these two old bastards for defamation of character. You willing to testify? I can also bring a slander suit for you, too - if you'd like..."

"Absolutely. But, why don't I just write them a check for a quarter-million each so they'll go away? I'm in a good mood today."

Donny turned to them. "You heard him ... the offer stands for an hour. But not for a quarter-million each. Two-hundred and fifty thousand... in total. Jared's generous to a fault sometimes." He gave them an icy smile. "Either I get your dissolution papers on Debbie's desk by... " He looked at his watch. "... 2 o'clock or I start the procedures by 3pm. Now, get the fuck out of my office."

* * *

"I like it." I was looking at Donny's new business card



"So did Dylan..." Donny grinned. "By the way, I got a call from him today. Jeff's almost done with the sleeve and he sent me a work-in-progress picture."

Dylan and Jeff had settled on a fireworks design for his sleeve. As with all of the Texan's work, the detail was exquisite and the colors were amazing. Old-fashioned conical fireworks in red, yellow, blue and green traveled up and down the new partner's arm, with silvery striped accents, white smoke, and yellow-orange flames coming from the various explosives.
"Wow - great work!"

"He's also getting some piercings - 'Nothing I can't take out for a courtroom appearance.' he said. You're such a bad influence on my associates, darlin' ..."

"I like to think of myself as a role model ..." I kissed the tip of Donny's nose.

"Dinner at Rabb's tonight?"

"Sounds good!"

* * *

I've been thinking about what Jared would look like when I finished my original story involving him and Donovan Cook. So, I decided to try it out. It was great! I had also been pondering about the other lawyers in Donny's firm. How would they react to him in general? How far could they be pushed? All of these issues have been flying around my head and I decided to clear them up, not only for me, but probably for folks that probably had the same questions. Jared is becoming a favorite AE of mine - right up there with Richard, Duncan and Jason.

I've also come to the conclusion that well-built men with shaved heads and tattoos really turn my crank!

For this version, I used one of my favorites - the Greyland "Artist" mask. Shirt and jeans came from American Eagle Outfitters. Belt from Express. Watch from Fossil.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Second Chances

The motel room was nondescript. Standard chairs, standard sofa, standard king-size bed, standard industrial carpeting. An air conditioner clanked away, keeping the room cool and staving off the worst of the sweltering, unending heat that passed for Texas weather outside. The two men on the bed lay naked and asleep, their muscular bodies twined about each other and twisted within the sheets.

Lane McDevitt stirred and planted a soft kiss onto the lips of the sleeping man embracing him. He pulled him closer and nuzzled the hard line of his jaw and down his neck. The other man's stubble grated against his lips but the taste of Jesse Sommers was well worth it. Lane's lover came slowly awake and smiled into the eyes of the man embracing him.

"Good morning, darlin' ..." Lane drawled. His hand traced slow designs on his lover's back. Jesse arched in pleasure.

"Right back at you, love ..." He kissed McDevitt. "Mmmm ... you feel so good ..."

Lane was about 6 feet tall, with a deep tan that set off his cognac eyes and chestnut-brown buzzcut. He was smooth and muscular, but not overly so - more along the lines of a swimmer or gymnast, but not whipcord thin like the other ranch hands. McDevitt was a professional bronco rider and was in Austin for the Star of Texas rodeo. He was also one of the favorites slated to win.

Jesse Sommers had been his lover for over five years. Where Lane was dark, Jesse was light; hair the color of burnished gold framed a strong face, and his deep sea-blue eyes danced and sparkled in the morning light. A faint reddish stubble - courtesy of his Nordic ancestors - covered his cheeks and chin. Sommers was a tad shorter, but more powerfully built - as a bull rider, less height was a distinct advantage. He grabbed McDevitt and straddled him. He pulled the other man's arms above his head and pinned them down to the bed.

"Sweetheart, promise me something ..." Jesse's face became serious.

Lane's eyes gleamed. "Anything, hon ... you just need to ask..."

"I'm not fooling around here, Lane ... I love you more than anything in the world... if ... if ... if anything ever happens to me, swear to me that you won't just bury yourself and fade away. Promise me that you'll give yourself a second chance at happiness..."

McDevitt struggled, but Jesse held him tight. "Why are you so damn morbid all of a sudden? C'mon, let me up..."

"Not until you swear this to me, Lane. I mean it."

"Okay, okay ... I'll find another stud if anything ever happens to you..."

Sommers pushed down on the man below him. "Stop fooling around ... Swear to God, Lane ..."

"All right ... I swear to God Almighty that if anything ever happens to you, I'll look for someone else to spend my life with ... happy now?"

Jesse released his hold on him, bent down and kissed him deeply. "Thank you, honey-bear."

* * *

Lane had won the bronco championship with flying colors. Jesse's event - bull riding - was later in the rodeo schedule. During the preliminaries, Jesse outdistanced his rivals by a considerable margin. The finals were scheduled for later that Thursday afternoon.

Jesse finished his preparations up near the chutes. Still relaxed, he waited for his ride.
Finally, it was his turn.
Sommers rolled his right shirt sleeve up to the elbow before rosining his glove. He'd drawn a bull with a deceptively sweet name of Fernando. Giving one last tug to the laces of his bareback glove, Jesse eased himself onto the bull's back; the leather rig was strapped tight across the animal's chest. The bullrider locked himself down, physically and mentally.

The arena, the crowd, everything faded into a blur of white noise. There was nothing but Jesse and this bull. Even the chute was an abstraction. Legs stiff, left arm high, breathing steady and grip tight, the bullrider signaled ready. Jesse's spurs were well above the shoulder break and touching skin. A good, hard buck out. The tornado of air twisted his ear drums as they spun out and away. His spurs dug into the animal's withers. The ride was wild and hard. Every joint was pulled in sixty directions. Buck, kick, lunge - the movements tortured his muscles. Whipped around by the bull the world spun out and away from Jesse. Infinite. As he made his dismount, Fernando jinked and he fell beneath the beast. Twelve hundred pounds of enraged flesh crashed down on the inside portion of his upper leg. He heard the bone snap and a wave of pain crashed through his body. He felt himself being dragged out of the arena as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He felt a sticky wetness in his jeans as his lifeblood spurted out of him. Despite the broiling temperatures, he began to shiver with cold.

Lane swam into his vision. The other man held him in his arms. "Doc's comin', Jess - hold on!"

Jesse reached up for what seemed an incredible distance and stroked the other man's cheek. His vision began to darken at the edges and fade. His arm fell to the ground as blackness swallowed him whole. Lane bowed his head and wept, rocking his lover in his arms until the doctor and paramedics arrived. The doctor took one look at the supine man and shook his head. The paramedics separated the two cowboys and placed the body into the back of the ambulance - there was no rush. Not any more. The doctor took Lane aside as the ambulance pulled away.

"I'm terribly sorry - that bull shattered your friends thigh bone and that severed the femoral artery. There was nothing we could do..."

In shock, Lane stumbled away ...

* * *
It had been a terribly hard year. There were times that McDevitt sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring off his body and pooling in the crevasses of his slabbed pecs and rock-hard abs. The dreams he had were so vivid - Jesse sitting in a chair, watching him - a sad look on his sweet face - "Remember your promise ... I'll haunt you till your last breath if you break your promise to me ..." He tried to keep his word to his former lover, but he found himself spending more and more time with the ranch's horses and less and less time with people. It was only in the stable that he could hold onto their warm, strong necks and let the tears flow freely down his cheeks. His daddy had literally beat it into him: "Men don't cry. Never see a man weep." He had the whip scars on his back to prove it.

There were times he swore he saw his lover even when he was wide awake, but dismissed it as his own grief and overactive imagination. He was a practical man ... after all, he knew ghosts didn't exist.

After a hard day at the Houston Livestock Show, Lane found himself back in his motel room. He had stripped off his clothes and taken a hot shower to loosen tense and aching muscles. After toweling himself dry, he pulled on a jock and sat down on the couch. He clicked on the television and looked forward to some mindless television; he began to doze off.

A hard pounding on the motel room door woke him from his semi-sleep.

"Hey, Lane! Open up! Lane!"


He got up and unlocked the door. Standing there in the hallway were Ryan Harris and Scott Harper with huge grins on their handsome faces. The two had been together for four years and he counted them as his closest friends. They were among only a handful of men who had kept by him during his grief and gradual withdrawal from life.

Ryan gave Lane a lascivious once-over, pausing at McDevitt's crotch. He grinned and licked his lips at the huge bulge in the jockstrap.

"Hmmm ... don't seem to be any smaller from lack of exercise..." He smiled. "You're comin' out with us tonight!"

"Fellas, I really ..." 

"No excuses, Lane McDevitt! You've spent enough time by your lonesome ... it's time to get out and smell the roses again!"

Scott was the more vocal of the two cowboys and they pushed into the the other man's hotel room. Each gave the somber horserider a crushing hug.

"But I don't have anything to we-" 

"We took care of that!"

With a flourish, Ryan opened up the package he had been carrying under one arm. In it was a beautiful black shirt with embroidered red roses and a pair of slim cut black corduroy jeans. He opened the shopping bag and pulled out a black felt hat and a richly tooled black belt with a hammered silver buckle.

"Where are those boot of yours, stud? Ah, there they are!"

Scott sauntered over and picked up Lane's black boots. They had been a gift to him from Jesse - plain black leather, with a sharp toe and low slung heels. The other cowboy brought out some saddle soap and brushes from the bag he was carrying and began cleaning and polishing them. In a short while, the boots took on a deep ebon gleam.

"We're going out to a gay bar tonight and you're comin' with us - no excuses!" Ryan wrapped his arms around McDevitt. "You need to be with people, stud. I mean it. We can't let you go on like this, grieving for Jess the way you do. It ain't right. Life is for the living ..."

His hands moved lower and rested rested on Lane's muscular ass. Harris gave it a playful squeeze before he let go.

Strangely enough, Lane found he wanted to go. The feeling had come over him suddenly when he saw the outfit the two had picked up for him. Red roses had been Jesse's favorite.

Ryan shook out the shirt. "Put it on, handsome..."

Lane slid the shirt on. The cotton fabric felt like silk against his skin. He began to fasten the sleeves and do up the front. The shirt was a bit snug through the chest and arms; making his biceps, triceps and torso stretch the fabric and obscenely pattern itself to his hard and powerful physique.

"Leave half the snaps open, bud ... show off those pecs!! You don't want to rip the shirt up the back!"
Lane blushed, but complied. He sat down and began to pull on the jeans. These too, fit him like they were tailored to him. They felt good. Sinfully good. The fabric molded to his thighs and ass, making his package in front appear even more obvious. And massive.

Scott looked over from polishing the boots and whistled. "Damn, Ryan - you've got good taste! I'd like to have him mount me here and now!"

Ryan laughed. "Scotty, you try that and I'll knock you six ways to Sunday ... you're all mine, sweetheart ... and don't you ever forget it!"

Harper chuckled and continued brushing the boots.

"Here you go, bud ... all nice and shiny!" Scott handed the boots to McDevitt. Lane slipped them on and then proceeded to slip the decorative black belt through the loops of his jeans.

"These too..." Ryan handed him a small pair of gradient sunglasses and a pair of short gloves. The leathers were incredible - soft and supple - fitting themselves snugly around his hands. Lane found himself growing painfully hard. Ryan noticed the growing bulge and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Niiiice ..."

The hat followed. McDevitt pulled it onto his head and adjusted it.

"How do I look?" 

"Save a horse ... ride a cowboy!" Scott snickered.

Lane laughed along with them. He felt good. He felt alive.

He wrapped an arm around each of his friends. "Let's go!"

* * *
The three men entered the lobby. Scott had ambled out of the glass doors to bring the pickup around to the front. Lane looked at the retreating tight ass in the brown shotgun chaps and spurs and smiled to himself. Damn, that's one helluva good-looking man ...

Ryan cleared his throat. The bronco rider looked at his friend and blushed. Ryan pulled him into a close hug and smiled. "Makes no nevermind ... You know Scotty ... he's a damn fine-looking stud and knows it. Loves to show it off too, the little cock tease ... I'm glad to see that there's still some blood pumping in that body of yours, Lane - not just trail dust and tears. And ..." He grinned. "... there's plenty of eyes in this here lobby drinking you in and wanting some tall, dark and handsome for themselves!" Lane turned a deeper shade of scarlet.


McDevitt leaned on one of the lobby windowsills and looked out. He sighed and turned towards his friend. "Ryan, I'm sorry I've been such bad company ... I really don't know how you and Scott put up with me..."

Harris laid a hand on the other man's back and gently stroked the muscles visible beneath the black shirt. "Lane, you've been through a lot this year. Me 'n Scotty didn't think Jess would have wanted you to shrivel up and blow away ... so we just wore you down!"

The horseman looked shocked at the other man's remark. He had never told anyone of Jesse's promise. Events seemed to be moving of their own accord and in a direction he hadn't anticipated. Just at that moment, Scott pulled up in front of the motel. Ryan and Lane got into the truck and the three men pulled out into the Houston traffic.

* * *
The three spent a quiet dinner at Brenner's Steakhouse. The cowboys were seated in an outside gazebo and the food and service were excellent. The weather had cooled considerably and a gentle breeze caressed their faces as the late sunset turned to early evening. Lane noticed that a number of the wait staff (striking, young men all) kept looking over at them and mentioned it to his friends.

Harris chuckled. "They're ogling you, bud ... you're drop-dead handsome, despite that sad look 'round your eyes! I told them ahead of time that Ryan and I were together! You can't keep deprivin' some decent man of your companionship!"

"Where are we going tonight, guys? You mentioned a gay bar ..."


"Yep, the Brazos River Bottom. Ryan and I went to BRB for the first time last night and we had a blast! Truth to tell, this was possibly the best time we've ever had at a bar, and we've been to a lot of clubs ... It was so damned nice to see real men, and not have to deal with them candy-ass twinks! The dance floor is wonderful! If you wanna have a good time with real people, without no drama, this is the best place in Houston."

"Sounds fun!"

"Uh-huh ... we're gonna have a great time tonight!"
* * *
By the time the three got to the bar, festivities were already in full swing. The club was beginning to fill up with all types of men - tall, short, muscular, thin - all of them having a great time. The bronco rider stopped in wonder. Ryan grabbed him by the belt buckle. "C'mon, Lane - let's go to the Side Pocket ..."

The Side Pocket was a smaller bar situated between the large Main Bar and the Back Bar. It was a bit less crowded and a lot more quiet. The man behind the bar was wearing a striped shirt half open to reveal a powerfully muscled chest dark with hair. The bartender looked up, a happy grin creasing his face, his white smile framed by a razor-trimmed moustache and goatee. His eyes twinkled.

"Ryan! Scotty! Great to see you again! Who's your handsome friend?"

"David, this is Lane McDevitt - he's a bronc rider at the livestock show. We literally had to drag him out tonight - you know how these celebrities need their beauty sleep..."

"You two night owls should talk... welcome to Brazos, Lane! What can I get you?"

Lane looked over at the bottles behind the bartender glittering in the dim light. "You got Absolut?"

"Every flavor ... "
The bartender drawled.

"Let me have an Absolut vanilla with creme de cacao and some cream..."

"Comin' right up ... I
know what you two drunkards want ..." David turned and began preparing the drinks.

Lane leaned against the bar and looked into the room. He actually felt happy - and the feeling surprised him. As the room began to fill, he noticed more than a few amorous glances in his direction. A smile and a pull of his hat was often rewarded by a 100-watt grin. Damn ... I have been living like a ghost ....

"Here's your drinks, fellas ... enjoy!"

Lane, Ryan and Scott moved away from the bar and over to one of the tables around the edge of the room. McDevitt took a sip. "Hell, this is good!"

Ryan took a large sip of his martini. "Yep, David doesn't water down anything. Scuttlebutt is that the owner of the bar is some big-time gangster and he doesn't look kindly on anyone cheating his customers."

Lane got up, still sipping his drink. "I'm goin' to take a look-see around ... seems like a helluva fun place!"

"We'll see you in a bit!"

McDevitt wandered around the BRB, admiring the layout, the atmosphere and the men both in front of and behind the bars. He was feeling horny as hell - and enjoying every minute of it. The dance floor looked great - just as his friends indicated. He was told that since this was Thursday night, there'd be dancing starting in about forty minutes. He continued making his rounds of the club and in every venue, drew wanton looks from the clientele.

He returned to the Side Pocket and scanned the room for Scotty and Ryan. He found them tucked into a corner, their arms tightly around each other, their mouths crushed together in deep and passionate kisses. Scott was leaning again the wall and had twined a leather-clad leg around his partner, pulling him closer. Lane found himself growing painfully hard watching his two friends and a tad embarrassed interrupting their embrace. He wandered back over to the bar and gestured for another drink.

David cleared his throat. "The gentleman at the end wants to buy it for you ..."

Lane looked over in the direction David indicated and his heart skipped a beat. Seated at the end of the bar was one of the sexiest men he had ever laid eyes on. The man tipped back his hat and smiled. He motioned McDevitt to join him. Lane moved to the far end and David put another drink in front of him.

The man was stunning. A brown shirt with lighter brown embroidery was stretched across a muscular torso and accentuated his deep golden tan. Raven black hair was buzzed short and strong, straight black brows sat atop warm brown eyes. A bright white smile was framed by sensuous lips. Snug concrete-grey jeans hugged slim hips and his muscular thighs pulled the denim deliciously tight. Chocolate-brown lizard boots perched on the bar rail. He took off his hat and sat it on the bar.

"Thanks for coming over. I couldn't help noticing you. Hell, no one could help noticing you ..." He put out his hand. "Trace Cartwright. Pleased to make your acquaintance!" His voice was a clear deep tenor.

Lane shook the outstretched hand and smiled. "Lane McDevitt." He looked at the other man's half-full glass.

"Thanks for my drink ... can I buy you another?"

Trace smiled and traced a hand lightly down Lane's thigh. He gestured to David. "Lemme have another Absolut Peach with cranberry and orange juice." Lane felt his blood begin to roar in his ears. It was surprising how that one touch inflamed him to that extent. The two men continued to talk and drink. McDevitt moved closer to the other man; Cartwright didn't object; in fact he too, moved to close the distance to the bronc rider. Trace toyed with Lane's belt buckle and gave him a bold stare. "What are you waiting for, handsome?" he whispered.

Tentatively, Lane reached up and held the other man's head in glove-clad hands; gently he pressed his lips against Trace's. Cartwright's lips were firm, yet kissably soft. He could taste the peach liqueur tingling on his tongue. Lane kissed him again. Harder. His hands slid down and started to stroke Trace's back. The other man moaned and began to massage McDevitt's tight waist with his thumbs. They continued to kiss and fondle each other. Finally breathless, the two broke apart.

"God-damn, Lane! Where have you been all my life?" Trace laughed."If you kiss like this, I can't wait to see what else you can do!" A vision of Lane McDevitt - dark, determined and probably flat-out ferocious in bed - flashed through Cartwright's mind. He found it staggeringly erotic.

Ryan appeared at Trace's shoulder. He gave a sly look back and forth at the two men. "I see you've met a new friend, bud..." I haven't seen him this happy since Jess passed on...

McDevitt grinned. His entire face lit up. "Ryan, this here's Trace Cartwright. Trace, meet Ryan Harris."

The two shook hands. Ryan's face broke into a huge smile. "See? I told you you'd have a good time! C'mon - dancin's about to start!"

* * *
The four men - Ryan, Scott, Lane and Trace - left the Side Pocket and entered the Main Bar area. The DJ was in the final stages of setting up. The room was crowded with couples ready to dance.

" 'Scuse me ... I'll be right back..." Trace scooted over to the DJ and gestured back at the other three men and then towards the center of the room. The DJ laughed and nodded; Cartwright returned, grinning. He slipped a hand into the back pocket of Lane's jeans and hugged the bronco rider close.

"I made a request..."
The DJ tapped the microphone and the clicking noise echoed throughout the bar. The crowd quieted down.

"Boys, before we start, I just got a request from one of our patrons here for a little demonstration -- so, please give a big Brazos hand for Trace Cartwright!"

Hoots, hollers and shouts of encouragement filled the air as Cartwright sauntered over to the middle of the room. He pulled his hat down low over his face so it shadowed his eyes and left only his impish grin peeking over the brim. Then, he started to undo the snaps on his shirt. First the cuffs were unfastened; there was a collective gasp from the crowd as he pulled the brown material open to display smooth, tanned expanses of powerfully sculpted muscle. He turned to Lane and his friends and tossed his shirt over to the bronco rider. Trace nodded to the DJ and "Pickin' Wildflowers" by Keith Anderson began to play through the PA system.

Hey baby whatcha doin' this evening?
Can you meet me down at the railroad tracks?
I got Tom Petty playin' in my Silverado,
And I iced down a six-pack.

Trace reached behind the his head and grabbed the pole with both hands. He began to gyrate his hips and rock-hard abs and slowly sank down to the floor. The black-haired stud then languidly raised himself up and began to spin around the pole one-handed. He stopped and began to twist from side to side and buck his hips slowly and seductively. Cartwright reached up and grabbed the pole again with both hands, spinning around and moving his hips in slow-motion once more. The wicked smile never left his face.


Hey Daisy don't you worry 'bout your mama,

Like 007 we can keep it covert.
Undercover on the ground by the water
Gonna get a little peace... on earth.

Trace held the pole with both hands behind his head. All of a sudden, he lifted himself off the floor and flipped upside down. His grey-clad legs clamped the pole and he slowly slid down the tubular metal.When his hand touched the floor, he backflipped onto his feet. Cartwright pushed his hat back firmly onto his head and ran his hands down his now-gleaming pecs and abs. His hips thrust sinfully in time to the music.

Baby whatcha say we go pickin' wildflowers?
Got a spot way back in the woods.
Sneak away for a couple of hours,
You and me baby, pickin' wildflowers.

Lane stared slackjawed at his friend. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Trace grasped the pole again and spun around it. He held onto the metal and once more flipped himself head down. His pecs and arms vibrating with effort, Cartwright brought his legs to near horizontal as he rotated around the pole. The dancer stretched back and landed lightly on one boot, then the other.

Hey baby, Mother Nature is waitin'
And love's bloomin' like a cherry tree.
Let's buzz around, maybe do some pollenating,
Dive on in like honey bees.

Trace leaned against the pole and continued to buck his hips in a seductive motion -- moving his etched abs in and out and swinging his hips in a tight circle. A trail of sweat ran down the crevasses of his six pack and into the waistband of his jeans. Lane's mouth was dry and a hungry look glittered in his eyes as he drank in the man dancing in front of him. His blood was racing.

Baby whatcha say we go pickin' wildflowers?
Got a spot way back in the woods.
Sneak away for a couple of hours,

You and me baby, pickin' wildflowers.Take a trail ride if you know what I mean.
Hey baby won't you come with me?

In slow motion, Trace slid down the pole and wound up on the floor with one leg out straight and the other cocked at the knee.

Baby whatcha say we go pickin' wildflowers?
Got a spot way back in the woods.
Sneak away for a couple of hours,
You and me baby, pickin' wildflowers.

As the music finished, he pulled his hat off and fanned himself. The crowd went wild. Trace stood up and made a sweeping bow. He then strolled over to the black-clad cowboy. The pole dancer wrapped sweaty arms around the other man's neck and gave him a soft kiss. Brown eyes met and the long-banked embers of lust in Lane McDevitt burst into an all-consuming flame. He pulled the half-naked man to him and brutally crushed their lips together. When the two broke for air, Cartwright gave a shaky laugh.

"I take it you liked that?"

Lane began to lick the sweat from the hollow of the other man's throat. Traced arched his back and moaned.

"What the hell do you think?" He murmured.

* * *
Lane rubbed down the sweaty torso of the other man as he finished off a large, cool sweet tea. During the interlude, McDevitt discovered that Cartwright was the new vet at the ranch. They'd have plenty of time to spend together.

Trace kissed the tip of his nose. "Thanks, Lane ... mmmm, that rubdown felt good!"

"I couldn't believe what I was seeing out there - you were amazing!"

He grinned. "I was on the gymnastics team at Texas A&M ... I knew it was good for something!" Trace grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair and began to pull it on. "Ready for some more?"

* * *

Lane and Trace spent the rest of the time at the BRB dancing together. Line dances. Two-steps. Waltzes. Lane was an excellent dancer and Trace matched him step-for-step. As the night wore on, the DJ played slower songs for closer and more romantic opportunities between the men at the club. Lane spoke briefly to the DJ and in a moment, "We Danced" by Brad Paisley began to play.

As they moved around the dance floor, Trace laid his head on his partner's shoulder.

"I've never met a finer man or a better dancer, Lane..."

"Aww ... you're just saying that." Lane pulled the other man closer to him and reveled in the feel of the muscular body in his arms. Just like old times with Jess...

"I call 'em as I see 'em, cowboy ..."

He nibbled Cartwright's ear as the other man snuggled into his embrace. With a start, Lane saw Jesse - plain as day - at the edge of the dance floor. He stopped. His former lover wore a big smile and his blue eyes twinkled unnaturally in the dim light. He heard that sweet, familiar voice echo in his head. "Goodbye, sweetheart ... you won't be seeing me no more ... I knew you'd keep your promise... you just needed a little kick in the pants... " Slowly, Jess became less and less substantial until he faded from view.

" 'Bye Jess...I love you." He whispered.

"Lane?" Trace looked up. "Everything all right?"

Lane nodded and the two began moving around the floor again. "Yep. Just thanking my guardian angel for givin' me a second chance tonight..."

* * *
I'm sometimes surprised where my stories take me. I had started this one out with the concept of "Lane Stepping Out" - okay, I got an outfit together for what I would imagine Lane would wear for a night out on the town. Fun stuff, right?

I had no idea what the surrounding story would be, but I had
NO idea it would turn out like this.

A romantic ghost story.

That's one of the things that I truly love about masking - it opens up a well of creativity that would ordinarily be bottled up.
I had reread my initial story of Lane and that provided some additional insight into who Lane McDevitt was and how he would behave. I have been a bit melancholy of late, so I think that did play a part of how the story turned out. Jesse's ghost just popped into my head one night as I was writing, and I found that I really liked the idea of his former lover looking out for him. The same thing happened with the pole dancing - BOOM! - the idea just came to me. I did need to do a bit of research for this - both in terms of the movements that could/would be used as well as what country and western music would be the most appropriate for a gay cowboy wrapping himself around a dance pole. Believe me, I'm sure I drew some curious looks as I was taking notes in a strip bar!

As before, I used the Greyland "Gomer" mask for Lane. The shirt was made by Ely Cattleman and the jeans were a pair of skinny cords from the Gap.

I felt an incredibly great "vibe" from Lane and I do believe that this isn't the last time that you'll be reading about my cowboy!