Chapter Four: On Balls and Blackmail
Finn couldn’t believe this was happening. One moment he was lying in the clouds, feeling his lover’s warm jism squirting into his ass, and the next moment, he found himself sitting cold and wet on a hard bench in a jail cell. Bars surrounded him. He was in a retaining cell that was isolated from the other cell-blocks where the prisoners were kept. Next-door to him, in an adjacent cell, Brian was staring at him, his handsome face pressed between a set of gray-painted steel bars.
“God, Finn, what’s gonna happen to us?” Brian’s blond hair was plastered to his scalp, still dripping with mist and drizzle. But he’d never looked cuter, and Finn had never felt more in love with him.
“I don’t know,” Finn said, shaking his head. “But things will work out. They’ve got to.”
Finn wanted to go to Brian, to stroke his face, to comfort him, but he didn’t dare. Deputy Wallace had told him to sit right there and not to make a move if he didn’t want to see Brian’s back bleed. It was already covered with welts, he knew, even though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s backside from where he was sitting.
Brian’s back had to be covered with welts from the whipping it had received from Deputy Wallace’s leather belt. The deputy had hung Brian against the steel-barred wall of the cell, had wrapped ropes around his wrists and had strung him up, his face toward Finn.
Brian all but dangled there now, stark naked, his arms stretched almost out of his shoulder sockets, just the tips of his toes touching the concrete floor of the cell. Deputy Wallace was out somewhere now, having left Brian behind to hang and wince from the welts on his back.
“He’s crazy,” Brian muttered, opening his eyes. “Do whatever he says, or he’ll probably kill us. Christ, my back burns! What did I ever do to him?”
Finn was about to speak when the gray door at the end of the short hallway burst open, and Deputy Wallace appeared, chewing gum and jingling keys on a metal ring. He clomped down the hallway in his muddy black boots and unlocked Brian’s cell. He slammed shut the door behind him, causing the concrete outer walls to vibrate with the sound of steel crashing against steel.
Finn winced. Had he not been so afraid, he would have covered his ears with his hands and screamed.
Deputy Wallace smiled at him. “How are things going, boy? Enjoying your stay with us? Well, I got some good news for you. Your big rich daddy is on his way down here to rescue his naughty son. He oughta be here in—oh—ten or fifteen minutes.” He blew a gum-bubble and burst it with a sharp chomp of his front teeth.
Finn felt completely numb. He’d almost rather have been told that he was going to lock them both up for ten years, or that he was going to offer them to that motorcycle gang as a peace-offering—anything but telling him that his father was on the way.
Now it would all come out—that he and Brian had been fucking for the last year, that he had been fucking and sucking all those other guys ever since grade school. What would his dad do? What would his mother do? What would he himself do? He wished he were dead. He wished Deputy Wallace would pull that gun of his out of its holster and plant a molten slug of lead right between his eyes.
“Why, kid, you look downright pale all of a sudden,” Deputy Wallace said. He smirked, then snatched up the leather belt he’d left lying on the floor near Brian’s feet after he’d finished whipping him earlier. “Now, where was I before I went to make that call? Oh, yes, I believe I was lecturing this randy young billy goat here about what’s allowed and what ain’t allowed under the law.”
He doubled up the belt and cracked it across Brian’s bare ass.
Brian winced, pressing his face hard between the bars. His long body jerked, every muscle of it tense and stretched. His cock, which had been half-hard, suddenly began to lengthen and balloon. As his prick flexed up to a full erection, sticking up between the bars almost vertically, Finn watched it, feeling a great desire to touch his man’s fucker, to kiss it, to rub it. He felt this desire in spite of the almost-hopeless situation he was in. He felt ashamed of himself, ashamed of his lust at a time like this, but what could he do?
The swelling of his own prick caused him to fold his arms in his lap to hide it—these things happened naturally, because he was a young guy in the presence of a sexy turned-on young male. His desire was there. Nothing he knew of could have prevented it.
Deputy Wallace wound up his arm and cracked Brian’s ass again with the belt. “Goddamn pup!” He lashed the guy again, then again and again. He swung so hard and so quick that he panted, sweat beading on his forehead.
Brian was sweating too, his face flushed with pain, the muscles of his body quivering under his thin smooth skin. He jerked and gasped with each lashing of the leather belt across his ass, but he didn’t cry out or whimper. Instead, he chewed his lips.
Finn sat there helplessly watching, wincing and jerking each time Brian winced and involentarily made his cock flex. Clear tears of pre-cum leaked from the gaping piss-slit of Brian’s purple cockhead now. A trickle of fuck-lube had rolled down the underside of his cockshaft and now spilled over one of his bloated balls.
Finn’s mouth watered. He longed to lick the warm cum from his lover’s hairless brown ball sac, then to lick upward, cleaning the fuck fluid from the long shaft of his cock, and finally to sip the fuck juice as it bubbled out of his piss-slit.
He longed to suck Brian’s luscious purple cockhead between his lips and to feel it hot and silky and throbbing in his mouth while he licked it round and round.
Deputy Wallace scowled at him, his breath coming hard from the energy he’d expended beating Brian. “What you looking at so hard, little guy? Why’re you licking your lips like that?” He walked around to Brian’s side and followed with his eyes the path that his gaze had taken. “Well, well, what have we got here?”
He shoved his arm between the cell bars and hooked Brian’s erect cock with the looped end of the doubled-up belt. Then he lowered the loop and succeeded in hooking under the guy’s balls. He started to pull upward, and Brian’s balls looked like they would explode out of his sac. He gasped, his eyes bulging with pain and terror.
“Stop it!” Finn screamed, jumping up off the bench. Deputy Wallace froze for a split-second, then turned his gaze to him. He stood halfway across the cell, shaking all over, knots in his chest and stomach, his breath coming in wheezes.
“Sit back down there, little guy, or I’ll bust his balls as easy as this.” He blew a gum-bubble and exploded it with a loud pop.
Finn sank back down onto the bench. “Don’t hurt him anymore,” he said, his voice hardly more than a squeak. “Please don’t.”
“You give me one good reason, little guy. He’s broke the law. He’s guilty of indecent exposure, lewd and lascivious conduct in a public park, breaking the new curfew, and resisting arrest. Then there’s sodomy. The law in this state says that fucking a boy in the ass brings a stiff sentence. Add that to all these other offenses, and your horny boyfriend here’s got at least five years coming in the state pen. Now, would you like to be visiting him in the state pen or watching him get what’s coming to him here and now? If I was you, I’d settle on watching him getting his skinny smart ass whipped.”
He unhooked Brian’s balls, then let the looped belt cradle his cock for a few moments. He shook his head. “Christ, I never seen such a horny bastard. There I am, whipping the baby-skin off his bucking ass, and up front here his billy goat’s prick is up and jumping like he’s watching a stripper.” He shook his head again and unhooked the guy’s prick.
Finn sank farther down on the bench, a flood of tension flowing out of him with a sigh. He almost smiled. Brian had at least been saved that torture.
Deputy Wallace stood on the other side of the bars, watching him as if he were planning something for him. He unhooked his shiny hardwood billy club from his hip and laid the blunt end of it in his hand, twisting it slowly while he continued to watch him.
Finn felt all the anxiety rushing back into him. His stomach turned over. His muscles tensed with a thousand knots.
“I think I’m gonna give our randy billy goat here a taste of his own medicine,” Deputy Wallace said, nodding toward Brian, but never taking his eyes off Finn. He continued to twist the billy club in his hand. “What say, pretty boy, if I ram this old meat-beater up your boyfriend’s itchy little shithole? I’ll bet he’d just love that.”
Finn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He heard Brian groan. And Finn fell onto his knees on the concrete floor.
“Don’t,” he half-whispered. “Just don’t. Please. I’ll do anything. But just don’t.”
Deputy Wallace smiled. He hooked the billy club back onto his hip. He pressed his bulging groin between the bars and winked.
Finn knew exactly what he was demanding, and crawled on hands and knees across the cold concrete floor of the cell, climbing the cold steel bars of the cell with his hands until he kneeled before him, the officer in Brian’s cell, and Finn in his.
Taking a deep breath, he unzipped the deputy’s gray trousers. Reaching into his fly, he found his cock. It was enormous—at least as big as Brian’s. And it was hard and all wet. Deputy Wallace’s underwear was warm and sopping inside. The alkaline scent of cum drifted to Finn’s nostrils, and he realized that the deputy had shot off in his pants recently—possibly while whipping Brian. If so, that meant that the deputy was a sadist, someone who took sexual pleasure in inflicting pain. He’d read about such people, and now, here he was, pulling a sadist’s hard cock out of his pants.
Deputy Wallace groaned, pressing his hips at the cell wall as if he would squeeze them right through the bars. His cock stood up as stiff and quivering as Brian’s cock did just a few feet away. Finn gripped his prick by the base and sucked his apple-sized cockhead into his mouth. As his lips closed around his throbbing cockhead, he closed his eyes.
He was ashamed of himself. As much as he hated this man for what he’d done to Brian and what he was forcing him to do, he couldn’t help hungering for his cum, couldn’t help delighting in the feel of his cock in his mouth, couldn’t help that his own cock hardened in his pants. It felt good to suck cock—even the cock of a man he hated.
In fact, the knowledge that he was being forced to give the cop a blow job added some kind of extra pleasure to his cock-sucking.
He imagined himself a slave guy in ancient Rome, being forced to suck the cocks of the Roman soldiers—the big sweaty muscular cocks of Roman soldiers who had gone without fucking guys for months. He would suck them all, would bring them all off, would swallow the thick sweet jism of hundreds of grunting young men, one after the other, until he’d sucked off the entire Roman army. He would be their sexual slave forever.
Deputy Wallace banged the steel-barred cell wall with his muscular loins, driving his long cock between the bars and in and out of Finn’s mouth and throat.
Finn watched the man as he sucked his prick, his initial embarrassment giving way to a desire to view the grimaces on the deputy’s rugged face. His veined, sinewy hands gripped the steel bars, his knuckles white from the strength of his hanging on. He gazed down at Finn, his fierce eyes glazed over with an animal-like redness, his mouth gaping as he grunted, one corner of his mouth leaking spit.
“Ahhh!” he moaned. “Ahhhh! Yeahhh! Eat my cock, baby! Ahhhh!” His voice echoed through the nearly vacant steel-and-concrete chambers.
Finn felt the cock flex, rising and falling, all but lifting him off the floor and waving him in the air as he clung to his big meaty prick with mouth and hands. He loved the steel-like strength of big muscular cocks like Deputy Wallace’s and Brian’s. He imagined himself swinging on the big cock as if it were a parallel bar.
“Suck my prick!” Deputy Wallace grunted. “Oh, baby, suck my big prick!”
Finn’s head bobbed. The hot ridges of the deputy’s cock-knob stimulated his lips, stimulated his gums and throat and the insides of his cheeks. He twirled his tongue around the big juicy prickhead. He twisted the tip of his tongue down into his large gaping piss-slit, tasting the salty-sweet sex-lube that bubbled through the long throbbing shaft of his cock and oozed from the slit.
“Ahhhhh!” the deputy gasped. “Suck me off!” He humped wildly, jolting the steel-barred wall of the cell.
Had the bars not separated them, Finn knew that such heavy humping would stretch his tonsils until they snapped like rubber-bands, would fracture his jaws and break his upturned nose. But able to control somewhat the deputy’s fuck-thrusts into his throat, he enjoyed the cock ramming in and out of his face, ramming in and out of his undulating throat. He churned his wet tongue at the underside of his cockhead, massaging it. At the same time, he sucked rhythmically, teasing the cum out of his balls.
“Ahhhhhhh!” he bellowed. “Man!”
Finn nearly squealed with delight as he watched the deputy’s eyes roll back with hot pleasure, his mouth gaped with bellows and grunts and moans, his cock shivered at its very core and erupted with molten spurts of sweet cum. Finn sucked ravenously, swallowing burst after burst of thick rich jism. Hot spunk splashed against the back of his throat, bubbling down into his stomach, and warming his gut like hot cocoa.
“Take it!” Deputy Wallace grunted. “Eat every drop of my cum!” His hips strained against the bars. His cock jumped into Finn’s mouth and throat, spurting, spurting, spurting. “Ahhhhhhh!”
Finn’s hard cock was rubbing against his shorts, and he was pushing toward his own orgasm when Deputy Wallace yanked his softening cock out of his mouth. A few drops of spit and cum flicked off the tip of his prick and spattered his face. The deputy put his hand on Finn’s forehead and shoved the boy away.
The deputy stuffed his dripping cock back into his pants. He unhooked his billy club and spit on it, grinning.
Brian, whose head was turned sideways, and who had watched everything that had just happened, groaned when he saw the billy club. Every muscle in his body tensed to stone.
“I think I’m gonna have me some fun with this billy club after all,” the deputy said, giving Brian a tap on the ass with it. “Yes, sir, I believe this law-breaking, skinny-assed guy deserves a taste of the nightstick.” He chuckled and moved behind Brian, rubbing the night-stick between the boy’s ass-cheeks.
Finn screamed so loud that he thought something had snapped in his head. Then he realized that a loud buzzer had torn the air at the same moment that the scream had hurtled from him.
Deputy Wallace cursed, then wiped the spit off his nightstick with a handkerchief and hung the club back on his hip.
“You’re one lucky billy goat,” he said, whacking Brian on the ass with the flat of his hand. “Know that? You’re one lucky billy goat.”
The buzzer blasted down the hallway again. Finn jumped, and Deputy Wallace cursed.
“Goddamn it, I’m coming, I’m coming! Goddamn fool!” the officer unlocked the cell and clomped down the hall. After he’d unlocked the door at the end of the hallway, he disappeared through the doorway, crashing the door shut behind him.
Finn jumped up and ran to Brian. Unable to reach his mouth because of his hanging position, he kissed his nipples, and up and down his muscled abdomen. Then he ran his palms and fingertips up and down his boyfriend’s rippling torso, caressing him, soothing him.
“Are you all right, Brian?” he asked. As he spoke, he wrapped his hand around the bound boy’s cock. The bloated prick-knob throbbed like a heart against his palm.
Immediately, Brian’s cock flexed and began to squirt cum. He groaned loud and long, his body twitching.
Finn fell to his knees. Mouth gaping, slippery hands full of jumping, spurting cock, he caught as much of Brian’s cum as he could in his throat. By the time Brian was done spurting, Finn’s cheeks and nose and lips dripped with fresh boy-jism. His hands were drenched with cum. He licked the cum off the large brown balls. Then he licked clean the heavy, half-hard cock, delighting in the way it hung now, like a big sweet sausage. Finally, he licked the sticky-slick jizz off his fingers and cleaned off his face and smiled up at Brian.
Brian was smiling down at him.
“What happened?” Finn asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I was so scared I just came. Some people piss or shit in their pants when they’re scared out of their minds. I guess I come instead.” He chuckled weakly.
“How’s your back?”
“Not too bad. It sure burns, though. Funny, but getting hung up here naked like this and whipped made my prick horny. Being scared was sure part of it, but as much as it hurt being whipped, I kind of enjoyed it. I think if I’d’ve been whipped much longer, I’d’ve shot off in the air. It was a strange kind of pleasure.” He closed his eyes as if musing to himself.
Finn didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but he was glad that Brian hadn’t suffered too much. He put his arms through the bars and hugged his boyfriend’s wonderful muscular legs, pillowing his cheek against his sacful of big spongy balls and kissing his big sweet cock, which was hanging over his nose.
* * *
Roy ushered Reverend Trummel into the sheriff’s private office. He didn’t want the desk-deputy butting in on their consultation. With the sheriff and the rest of the force out searching for the Riders, Roy was the number one deputy-in-charge.
As he seated himself behind the sheriff’s littered desk, he pulled a cigar out of a box on top of the desk-sheriff’s private stock-and bit the end off it. Then he lit the cigar and savored a few puffs. Finally, he motioned for Reverend Trummel to sit in the chair across the desk from him.
“I’d offer you a cigar,” he said to the preacher, “but I guess you don’t smoke. Sinful, ain’t it?”
“You’re right,” Reverend Trummel said, his eyes shifting nervously. “Now, would you tell me what’s happened to my son?”
Roy puffed on his cigar, studying the big man across the desk from him. He never thought he’d get the chance to make Reverend Trummel squirm. In the old days, it was Reverend Trummel who had made Roy squirm.
Roy would never forgive his ma for dragging him Sunday after Sunday to the First Baptist Church so he could shiver and squirm under the glare and roar and fist-pounding of the preacher who drove nothing but new Lincolns while he squeezed every cent he could get out of his congregation. And he’d never forgive the reverend for the guilt-trip he’d laid on him.
Even today, a half-dozen years since the last and final time Roy had set foot in the First Baptist Church, he still woke up in a cold sweat from time to time after having suffered through another hell-fire nightmare—a nightmare in which the roaring voice of the righteous reverend lashed him and smothered him and chased him down into hell.
“Well?” Reverend Jimmy said, suddenly leaping up.
Roy slammed his fist on the desk. “Sit down!”
Rev. Trummel sank back into his chair, his face purple.
Roy puffed on his cigar and smiled. “I ain’t a member of your congregation anymore, Reverend. That’s the first thing you better get into your head. And the second thing is that I’m the law in this town tonight. With the sheriff out, you might say that I’m the sheriff tonight. That much clear?”
The reverend nodded, swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the knot of his black necktie.
“Good,” Roy said. “Now we can get down to business. You bring your check book like I told you?”
The reverend pulled a brown leather check book out of his suit and laid it on the desk.
“Fine. Real fine.” He leaned back and propped his boots up on the desk. “Now, Reverend, I’m afraid I got some bad news. We got your son locked up in back.”
The reverend’s eyelids flew up like sprung window-shades. “On what charge?”
“You mean charges, Reverend. On what charges? Public nudity. Public lewd and lascivious conduct. Breaking curfew. Sexual relations with a young man. He could get—oh—three to five years. And, of course, every last good citizen of Hampton is going to hear about it. His trial is sure to pack the courtroom.” He smirked shamelessly.
The emotions that fought under the well-padded skin of Reverend Trummel’s face were too many and too quick for the deputy to interpret. He was having more fun watching the preacher sitting there developing a dozen ulcers than he’d had taking the leather to that naked young buck in the back room.
After about a minute of internal battling, the reverend spoke, his voice barely audible. “Tell me what happened.”
Roy told him everything—every lurid detail of the story. In fact, he even spiced the story up. When he finished, the reverend looked like he needed about ten stiff drinks.
“So, what do you want me to do?” the reverend finally asked.
“That’s up to you,” Roy said. “But if I was you, I’d bail him out. Me being in charge tonight, I can work out a kind of special bail, if you know what I mean.”
“Special bail?” The reverend looked like a scared kid.
“Right. A sort of permanent bail. Oh, more of a fine than a bail. You pay it, and he’s free. In fact, I even tear up the report.”
“How much?”
“Oh, twelve-hundred-fifty oughta do it.”
“This is blackmail!”
Roy picked up the phone and started dialing.
“What are you doing?” The reverend leapt up.
“Phoning in tonight’s police report to the Hampton Journal.”
The reverend reached across the desk and disconnected the call with a jab of his fat fingers. “All right. I’ll pay the fine, bail, or whatever it is.” He opened the check book and snatched a pen off the desk. “Who should I make the check out to?”
Roy spelled out his name. “Now, hold on there a minute, Reverend. Before you write in the amount, we’d better discuss the young man.”
The reverend sank back into his seat. “The young man? What about the young man? As far as I’m concerned, you can put him away for twenty years.”
Roy smiled, shaking his head. “Reverend, Reverend, it ain’t that simple. That guy goes to trial, guess who’s gonna be called to testify?”
The reverend looked sick.
“Why, your adorable little son, of course. And then, of course, the court’s gonna wonder why one guy is on trial and the other guy ain’t. The guy didn’t rape him, you know. No, Reverend, it ain’t quite that simple. I’m afraid, Reverend, that you’re gonna have to bail the guy out too. Think of it as your Christian duty. Now, just add another twelve-hundred-fifty, for a total of , twenty-five hundred, and all your worries are over.”
The reverend’s hand trembled as he wrote out the rest of the check. It was the most satisfying moment of Roy’s life. He snatched the check out of the reverend’s hand and looked it over.
“Fine. Nice doing business with you, Reverend. Now, if you’ll just wait here, I’ll fetch the youngsters. I’ll bet you’re just dying to see the cute couple.”
