One For the Master, Two For the Fool
One For the Master, Two For the Fool
Larry Townsend
$3.95
Related products
Prologue
He stepped sharply on the accelerator, causing the red pickup to leap forward—a jackrabbit start as the light turned green and the car ahead of him bolted across the intersection. He was following a small sports car—also red, driven by a young man he’d met in the alley behind an all-night bookstore in West Hollywood. The guy had seemed almost desperate that Jeff accompany him; only now his frenetic driving was making it nearly impossible for the follower to keep up. But he was high. Jeff had noted it in their first exchange of words. They had been standing in the shadows near the end of the alley, under the overhang of an enormous bougainvillea. The guy was dressed all in leather, even wearing tight-fitting gloves. As he had hinted at the exotic exchange he contemplated for them, his leather-covered hands had been stroking the firm contours of Jeff’s chest and midsection.
Now Jeff was trying to keep up with this potential… what? Master? He wasn’t sure. It was an entirely new experience for him: his first night in the city, his first encounter with an experienced leather guy, the expectation, the unknown, the excitement… the fear. He wanted it, whatever “it“ might turn out to be. His fantasies and limited exposure to an occasional piece of SM fiction were his only guideposts—that and the few less-than-fulfilling exchanges he’d had with a couple of kids back home.
The little red car made an abrupt turn into a dark side street, lined with old houses dating back to the twenties, surrounded by massive trees and bushes that nearly obliterated the streetlights. Another turn, another darkened street, and the sports car pulled into a driveway. Its lights went out, and it all but disappeared into the shadows. Jeff pulled to the curb in front of the house, the combination of fear and desire forming a strangely paired set of sensations within his viscera. The great decaying mansion reminded him of something from a Charles Addams cartoon. Yet, in reality, it lacked any humorous implication.
“Come on,” his companion urged, leading the way up the stairs to the front door. The whole area was silent, and seemed deserted despite the relatively early hour, not much past ten; but there was a threatening aura about the place, an almost malevolent feeling that clutched at Jeff’s awareness like a chill winter wind trying to penetrate his layers of protective clothing. “It’s okay,” whispered the other. He took Jeff’s hand and led him inside the murky entry hall. “We’re by ourselves. No one’s going to bother us.” The guy forced a nervous chuckle-evidence of his own uncertainty, except that Jeff was too intimidated to notice. “I use this for a workshop,” his host continued. “The playroom’s downstairs.” Again he led the way, through a room that contained some furniture, or machinery, all draped in dustcovers—then down a flight of creaking stairs into a musty-smelling basement.
There had been a dull, bluish night-light midway on the stairs, but the illumination faded at the bottom. The young man still had hold of Jeff’s hand. He squeezed it, now, then let go. “Hang on just a second,” he whispered, moving off into the darkness. “I’ll get the light.”
A moment later, an amber glow began to emanate from several recesses around the periphery of the room. This increased in brilliance, until a number of forms began to take shape before Jeff’s awe-stricken gaze. He shuddered, fear suddenly threatening to dominate all of his other emotions, momentarily suppressing even his raging lust. The room seemed crowded with men, all strangely silent, as if each figure were holding its breath. He felt trapped, betrayed by the man who’d brought him here, who’d told him they’d be alone. But they were alone, he suddenly realized, and the pounding rush of blood through his temples receded. The room was filled with mannequins, dummies covered with material to resemble skin, some outfitted in leather harnesses or hoods, all posed as if frozen in some act of submission.
Then, somehow, the truth was more frightening than his original perception… the simulated life more threatening than an assemblage of living men. And more overtly sexual-oversized genitals bound with ropes and strips of rawhide, all erect, all seeming to pulse with life in the dim, reddish glow of the dungeon.
Reviews
There are no reviews yet.