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Undercover
Part 5 - Sin
The kid's eyes widened as Nick instinctively swatted his hand away.
The things I have to do for my country don't include this James Bond he thought.
"I'm a little tired right now, maybe later"
"I have to follow orders"
He grasped the kid's thick wrist. "Tell me, why do you follow these orders? How did you come here? Why do you stay? You're not tied up."
Virgil's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"You faggots usually ain't so curious. Why you wanna know about me?"
"I..er..it turns me on to hear a story like yours. It will..pleasure me…so you are following orders. Do you choose to be here?"
Virgil spit on the floor "FUCK no..I'd kill every one of you faggots if I could"
He noticed, Nick's right eyebrow raise.
"They let us say whatever we want. They know it turns most of the Masters on to know how much we hate em…they know we can't do nothin"
"What's stopping you? All those armed men are slaves too. You could take over."
Virgil stared slack jawed again. "You don't know? You’ll see tonight"
There was a knock at the door.
It was Streiger. "Mr. Jabran, I am so sorry to interrupt your relaxation, however Mr. Sin invites you for cocktails in his office before the festivities.
Virgil will accompany you. Nick caught a flicker of dread in Virgil's downturned face.
And so, he followed that disturbingly attractive bubble butt, into the next circle of the compound, passing shackled, caged and likewise degraded prime man flesh at every turn, as the descended down a grand staircase through another guarded portal a hellish chorus of moans, and screams assaulted his ears.
He passed men hanging by their heels, tied over benches, in cages all naked, expect for a several bound men in what seemed to be Australian Rules Football uniforms.
Virgil noticed his stare. "The freaks have a fetish for those uniforms, when they take those players, they get to keep their clothes"
"Virgil, why are these men screaming?"
"They ain't been processed yet."
He stopped to face one of the hanging men. Even hung by his ankles, struggling upside down bound, he could tell this guy was an efficient soldier.
He developed a plan, as they approached a pair of huge carved oak doors, the kind you’d expect at the entrance to a grand cathedral.
The doors opened with an authoritative creak. Nick had to stop himself from gasping. He saw himself in stone in the center of a large oval room.
It was a large classical statue, holding a broken sword in its hand. But Nick recognized his own face, his build, his focused angry look reflected in the stone.
"Breathtaking, isn't it?" the voice came from across the wide room, and majestic antique desk, from the other side of a high-backed leather armchair.
"Spartacus, by Deni Foyatier, 19th century romanticism. This is my ideal man, how I have longed for him to come to life. I keep him facing away from me of course. It's the best view.
They believe the original stands in the sculpture courtyard of the Louvre, but that is a copy I had placed there. This is the original."
The chair swiveled around. A pair of beady Mongoloid eyes met his.
"You see sahib, there is nothing that I desire that I cannot have"
Sin was, considering the enormous amount of compensation around him, not surprisingly, a small, soft, luxuriant man. He drew deeply on his filtered cigarillo, his Chinese-empress, long painted fingernails glinting in the light of the chandelier, a vaginal goatee encrusted with pomade surrounded his painted mouth and was the only hair that adorned his head. The white suit made Nick think of Colonel Sanders, and the dangling earring a hooker he used to know. The crab apple round face crinkled into a smile that could freeze vodka. He extended a limp fish that was to be considered his hand.
"And as my esteemed client, there is nothing that you desire that you cannot have. Thank you for your generous deposit." Nick politely shook the cold elegant claw. He saw no indication that this limpid sissy, noticed his resemblance to the statue. He carefully pretended to sip at the small glass of port offered him.
" I notice that you did not desire our Virgil, and we thought he would be your type. He is one of our favorites. Come to me Virgil. You see there is very little we miss around here"
He laid the hunky redneck tough across the desk, hanging his head back over the side. Casually, he whipped out a surprisingly long dick and rammed it into the unresisting jaw of the tattooed slave, casually toying with the defined torso, leaving long red wets with his obscenely long fingernails, as he continued the conversation.
"You seemed to pay attention to the navy seal, I have hanging outside my door. His name is Wronek, I can have him assigned to you after he is processed. You seem to enjoy the military types “He reaches under a drawer finds a large buzzing dildo, leans over the slave and with a cruel relish stabs it into the youth's asshole.
Nick tries to maintain a casual tone in the face of this horror.
"Can you elaborate on this process?"
"Ahhhh.. he is so sweet. Mmmn. Oh yes of course. How do we keep this army of muscle men bent our puerile whims without being slaughtered? Is this what you'd like to know?"
He removes a needle from the same drawer and skewers the now writhing stud's nipple, and fucks into the mouth. Virgil gags and moans.
"We have several operatives planted around the world, we call them raptors, when a request comes in, or they spy a likely candidate, their taste as you have seen is impeccable, they employ our chemical methods to incapacitate them and bring them here" He pierces the second nipple." We have several ingenious gases, creams, and injections. They all result in a numbing, but pleasurable experience upon the subject. They are usually out for 48 to 72 hours, just enough time to bring them here. The problem is keeping them untouched for the buyers, especially the requests. In fact, one of our best, and most sadistic raptors, who goes by the name of Doc, has been having trouble keeping his cock out of the merchandise just lately. Rather like a hunting dog that eats the kill instead of bringing it to his master.
He damn near ruined an Australian Rules Footballer just last week.
I will hate to have to discipline him, but I do have a business to run." He inserts a third hair thin needle into the enslaved piss slit. The hapless youth screams around the cock fucking deep into his throat.
He has found a small thread and connects it to each pin so that nipples and cock are bound together.
He reaches again into his desk and removes a small computer chip. Once the subjects arrive, we keep them here in the innermost circles of our little paradise, and, if they are not special orders, enjoy them, until they are processed. Sometimes our guests enjoy the unprocessed random captures while considering a purchase. They enjoy the fight."
He pulls out of the slave's mouth, and handcuffs his meaty wrists above his head, pulling him around the desk so he is now facing his groin instead of his mouth. In doing so he knocks a file off the desktop. Nick helpfully picks it up. It is marked celebrity, he notices a few names of well-known actors and rock musicians listed within.
"Thank you, as you see we get special orders all the time. Our operation has grown to the extent that there is really no one that we cannot obtain. Those names you have seen will be joining us here very soon.
I know it is not necessary to bind him. I just find that men are so much more attractive when bound.
Wouldn't you agree?"
"Now, as to the processing. It is a surgical procedure, where in one of these little beauties is implanted into the subject, thereby linking him, both to me, and to their new owners. The owner chip is of course taken orally, painlessly. The merchandise has amore, shall we say, entertaining experience. This chip gives us complete control over our property for life.
It inserts into the nerve system so completely that they are unable to act contrary to our will. Even after we retire them, and set them up in very nice lives, they are never able to speak on the subject.
They give the answers we have prepared for them to explain their disappearance. Of course, they still hate us, and have the ability to voice that… I do so enjoy that part.
This surgery is carried out as part of a ritualistic ceremony on special occasions. It's quite beautiful really. You are in luck, we are having one this evening. Among others, a rather well-known American footballer, one of our most expensive items ever sold, is being linked with his buyer, before the auction. In fact, this chip will be inserted into another, very rare treasure, that I have been waiting for this evening as well."
He lifts poor Virgil's legs up over each pudgy shoulder, and with a cruel smirk invades the youth’s unlubricated rectum.
"FUUCKK YOUU YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!!!!!I'LL KILL YOU ISWEAR"
Sin smiles at the threat. "Yes that's it, that's what I like to hear"
He plays with the thread connecting dick to nipples with his long fingernails, the hardening dick bounces up along the flat stomach, small droplets of bloodstain the broad tattooed chest. Virgil's head and arms hang limp over the side of the desk.
"Do join me, there is a nice empty hole for you"
Nick begins to demure.
"I insist.. you would not disdain my hospitality"
Sorry Virgil he thinks as he takes out his own thick member. Mr. Sin's eyes widen at the sight of Nick's cock but avert before he is noticed.
Nick spreads his legs in a wide stance, thinks of Emma, and allows the young hoodlums mouth to envelope him.
The kid was good, he'd been trained well, he thinks as the skilled tongue dances around the shaft and begins to suck. He hardens rapidly ..”oh Emma.. why couldn't we have made it work?"
He tries not to watch as Sin ramrods into the bad boy shitter. He throws his head back and feels the rhythm.
"So after the ceremony shall we loan you Wronek, until of course, you have made all of your purchases?"
He looks back at Sin, as the ache swells his loins.
"No. I want him unprocessed"
To be continued....