Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica)

by Ty Marton

  Jeff’s somber train of thought was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps crunching their way through the dry sandy brush amidst the crackling of the bonfire. He snapped his head up to attention, craning his neck to see who was coming. There was an approaching light – a lantern. The footsteps grew louder and louder, the light nearing the bend in the rocky hillside concealing Jeff from the motel. Soon, a shadowy figure came into view. Jeff could see the orange light from the lantern glowing up across their face…

  It was Danny.

  Jeff stared at him as he approached, stunned. He had wondered if someone like Dwayne or Gus or Trixie might sneak out and take advantage of the highly vulnerable, totally naked slave locked and restrained out in the desert. But Danny? How was he even out on his own? Jeff felt his heart beginning to race. Maybe he had somehow eluded his tormentors. Maybe he could free Jeff from his bonds. Maybe the two of them could finally make their escape…

  Danny moved in front of Jeff and stared down at him, leaving him face to face with his naked midsection. Jeff couldn’t help but take in the lean, muscular tone of his abdomen and thighs, and in between… Clinging onto some semblance of sheepishness, Jeff tried to avoid looking at Danny’s cock, but it quickly proved to be a futile effort. After all, it hadn’t been that long since Jeff had been desperately sucking on it with a gun to his head. As cocks went, it was healthy, ample, and pristine-looking. Jeff didn’t want to think about it in terms like that, but he simply couldn’t help it. Something about it was just oddly… captivating to him. The very sight of it in Jeff’s periphery made his pulse begin to throb and his mouth go dry.

  Danny slowly lowered himself to his knees, bringing the two of them eye to eye, much as Mason had before. His face betrayed an odd sense of curiosity, almost as if he were looking at something he couldn’t quite recognize, but something that seemed familiar nonetheless. Jeff swallowed, unnerved by the slave’s blank stare.

  “How did you get free?” he finally asked, desperation in his voice as he added, “Please – help me…”

  Danny didn’t respond – he didn’t even blink. Instead, he simply raised his hand, clamping it over Jeff’s mouth and ignoring his muffled cry of protest. Something in his stare hardened.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, his voice cold like steel. But Jeff kept his eyes open, locking them with Danny’s, frightened of the restrained intensity in the slave’s eyes. He had come here to save this man, and yet now, Jeff realized that Danny Major might be the one person at this damned motel who scared him the most. He sucked a nervous breath in through his nose, noting to himself that with his mouth already firmly blocked, all Danny had to do now was pinch his nostrils shut and he’d suffocate within minutes. Maybe that was why Danny was out here. Maybe he simply wanted to put Jeff out of his misery. Of course Jeff had no intention of dying, something Mason had already made perfectly clear, both to Jeff and to Danny. But still, from Danny’s perspective, maybe he’d be doing Jeff a favor…

  “Close your eyes,” Danny repeated, his stare growing insistent. Jeff returned the stare, fighting off a fresh shiver that was beginning to come over him as he continued following every stubborn instinct that told him not to trust this broken shell of a man. But then, almost to Jeff’s amazement… he did. He obeyed. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

  “Listen to my voice,” Danny said. “I need you to… understand.”

  He lowered his hand from Jeff’s mouth. The shackled hostage kept his eyes shut, and his lip trembled as he whispered, “Understand… what?”

  Jeff could sense Danny’s face inching closer towards his, like the gentle heat of an electric charge passing between them. Danny’s forehead landed against Jeff’s, and Jeff gasped softly, his entire body trembling now. He could sense what was coming, and for reasons he couldn’t possibly understand, it was the only thing he really wanted. Not escape, not freedom, not relief.

  Danny’s lips landed against Jeff’s, his tongue unfolding into the officer’s waiting mouth. His eyes still shut, Jeff suddenly saw a flash of white light. Something had changed. Danny was gone. He opened his eyes.

  He was back in the cellar dungeon, the side of his face resting against the cool black leather of the padded table. Startled and confused, he tried to raise his head, but couldn’t, as a steel collar around his neck was tightly chained to the table’s far edge. He was bent over, naked, his arms still bound securely behind his back, his ankles chained to the floor. He began to struggle, but it was no use. All he could do was slowly work his head to the opposite side.

  There was Danny, chained in place a few feet beside him, looking back at Jeff with something new in his eyes, something Jeff hadn’t seen before: fear. Behind him was Mason, naked and fully erect, a sadistic grin on his face as his hands kneaded Danny’s ass cheeks and spread them apart. There was someone behind Jeff, as well, he realized, a look of panic sweeping over his face as well. His eyes fell back to Danny’s. The slave offered him a knowing, mournful nod. Jeff had seen this before… the security footage from the theater…

  But it wasn’t a thought Jeff was able to dwell upon. In that very moment, he felt two large, muscled hands gripping at his hips, clutching him in place as what felt like an impossibly thick cock cleanly and swiftly penetrated him, steadily burying itself inch-by-inch within Jeff’s tight, unprepared ass. Stars seemed to flood his vision, his mind running blank, his every nerve and brain cell seemingly overwhelmed by the unilateral sensation of his ass being split open and reamed by this massive cock. He opened his mouth to scream, but no scream came. Instead, Jeff heard himself unconsciously moaning out two words he hardly even recognized:

  “Harder, Sir…”

  He got what he asked for, the cock pulling back only to thrust straight back in, faster, deeper, and harder than before.

  “Harder, please…” Jeff moaned, again locking eyes with Danny, the slave whimpering as he took Mason’s cock up his ass.

  Jeff’s ass, meanwhile, was now bearing the steady piston-like thrusts of his own master, each one sending a shockwave of force rippling through Jeff’s body, jolting him against the corner of the table. He wanted to cry out in pain and beg for it to stop, but something wouldn’t let him. Instead, he simply begged for more.

  “Harder please Sir!”

  The cock was slamming itself into Jeff with each merciless thrust now, leaving his entire body shaking with pained exertion. But Jeff could also feel that familiar heat building at the base of his scrotum, the slow burn in his prostate that he had felt back in the theater…. He realized he was drooling on the table, his eyes rolling upwards into his head as he continued to get fucked. He snapped briefly back to attention, focusing just long enough to see Danny in a similar pose behind him, face twisted into a strained, breathy grimace, eyes wrenched shut, cheek buried against the black leather…

  And out of the corner of his eye, between the slave’s legs, Jeff could see Danny’s cock. It was bulging out from his body like a fifth appendage, so hard it might as well have been chiseled out of stone. From the tip came a steady, sticky drip of cum, each one of Mason’s thrusts seeming to force another few droplets of the cloudy fluid to spurt out. Jeff gasped out a moan at the mere sight of it. He too, was hard, he realized, his own cum dripping own onto the cool cement floor below as he endured the brutally intense pounding at the hands of his unseen master. The heat in Jeff’s prostate had grown by now to a red-hot, sustained blaze, each pumping thrust of cock up his ass seeming to stoke it like a bellows blowing oxygen over glowing coals. The heat seemed to melt Jeff from the inside out. His will to resist was gone. His feelings of self-preservation were gone. Even his sense of identity seemed to have vanished. All that was left was a singular instinct: the instinct of submission.

  The instinct of a slave.

  He wasn’t Jeff anymore, he realized, just like the slave beside him wasn’t Danny. This was the culmination of submission. They weren’t individuals, they were property. They were tools…

  “…I’m a
slave…” Jeff muttered, his voice low and reverent. Danny opened his eyes at the words, staring at Jeff, suddenly stoic once more, his fear and discomfort gone now. He nodded with an odd, expectant eagerness, and Jeff immediately repeated himself.

  “I’m a slave!” he cried out, barely wincing as his master forcibly spanked the palms of his hands down over Jeff’s ass cheeks at full strength, still pummeling his cock in and out of Jeff’s ass as fast and as hard as he could. Jeff’s eyes fell shut, a strange, idyllic open-mouthed smile growing across his face as his anonymous master grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head upright.

  “Do you understand?” Danny whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes.

  “Oh, yes,” Jeff gasped, his voice shaking. “Fuck yes…”

  Within moments, he could feel his master’s first small explosion of cum shooting deep within his ass. Jeff moaned at the sensation, savoring each successive spurt of the warm fluid, his leg beginning to spasm and twitch against their bonds as he began a sustained orgasm of his own. The budding heat at the base of his groin felt as if it were spilling straight out of him, not in a steady drip, but in a fountainous series of bursts. In perfect sync with the dominant brute behind him, Jeff was hitting the submissive climax his masters had intended for him to hit. It washed over him and took ownership of him, redefining his very identity, forcing him to exist within a single context: the context of a slave.

  “Fuck yes…” he repeated, whimpering the words out in a shuddering whisper. “Fuck yes…”

  ~*~

  SPLASH!

  Jeff gasped, supremely startled by a thick torrent of ice cold water landing across his face. He shook his head and tried to squirm out of the way, but couldn’t, his neck and wrists strangely immobilized…

  Then, it came to him. He was still out in the desert, locked away in the stocks. There was a hot morning sun beating down on him – he’d made it through the night. The dungeon, the padded table, Danny… despite seeming so visceral, none of it had been real. Jeff hung his head, breathless as the water dripped down off of his face, shaken from his abrupt return to reality, and from where his subconscious had been so eagerly willing to take him…

  “Mornin’ sugar,” came a sickly sweet voice. Jeff blinked some of the water clouding his vision out of his eyes and raised his head, barely able to make out the figure standing in front of him, empty bucket in hand. It was Trixie, just as cocky and buxom as she’d been when Jeff had first pulled her over. “Are you glad to see me?” she asked with a smile, biting her lip and adding, “Because I’m sure as hell glad to see you…”

  Jeff said nothing as she slowly moved behind him, reaching out and tracing her red fingernails down his spine. “You look good out of that uniform,” she cooed, giving his ass a playful squeeze and teasing her thumb down his crack. “Tight little ass, too…”

  She bent down and retrieved a soapy rag from the bottom of the bucket, wringing it out before bringing it against Jeff’s ass cheek and starting to scrub. “Gotta make sure you’re looking your best,” she said, dragging the rag down the crack of his ass and shamelessly scrubbing over his hole in tight circles. “Mason says you’re in for a big day…”

  Jeff couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. For the moment, he was still struggling to make sense of his dream and come to terms with the fact, at least on a subconscious level, this place might be affecting him faster than he’d realized. Even now, with Trixie’s dehumanizing wash and rinse, he didn’t even feel like he had the instinct to recoil, let alone resist. Something within him was changing. His fiery spirit was being contained, perhaps extinguished…

  “You know,” Trixie said, scratching her fingernails up around Jeff’s balls, “you could have bent me over the hood of your cruiser, fucked my cute little ass with this juicy cock of yours, and gone about your business… I knew you wanted it the second I saw you.” She clenched her fingers, giving his balls an unforgiving squeeze, yanking them low away from his body. “But instead, you had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong…” Biting her lip, she slowly worked a soapy finger up his exposed ass, arching her eyebrow at his near-stoic lack of a response.

  “Now look at you,” she said, her voice heavy with mock woe as she started teasing the finger in and out. “Now you’re the one who’s gonna be getting plowed…” Her eyes fell lower, to a flaky stain that had dripped down Jeff’s thigh. She pulled the finger out of his ass and gave the stain a touch, smiling to herself as she recognized the dried semen for what it was.

  “Well, looky here,” she said, half incredulous. “Looks like somebody’s excited about getting plowed…” She snickered to herself and buried the finger back up his ass, down to the bottom knuckle, twisting it in as deep as possible. “Is that right, officer?” Jeff bit his lip, trying as hard as could not to give Trixie the satisfaction of forcing a sound out of him. But it was no use. As intense as his dreams had been, Jeff couldn’t help but let out a moan at the sensation of Trixie’s finger probing his ass. She smiled, licking her lips at the sound of it and reaching between his legs to wrap her free hand around his cock.

  “Come on, honey” she hissed, working her finger in and out in perfect rhythm with each stroke of his dick. “I want to see you nice and hard…”

  She barely needed to make the request – within seconds, Jeff’s cock was responding in full, quickly growing fully erect within her hand. She licked her lips again, relishing the sight of his cut, throbbing curvature, practically drunk with power as she casually dominated this helpless slave …

  “Trixie!”

  She jolted upright at the voice, springing to her feet and jumping back from Jeff as if he had suddenly become electrocuted. There, just around the bend, stood Mason, glaring at her with a fiery intensity that frightened even Jeff. He started towards her, face frozen in anger – all she could do was tremble and cower.

  “I… I was just…”

  SMACK! With pure, concentrated rage Mason backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling down into the dust.

  “Know your place, you filthy slut,” he growled, spittle frothing from the end of his tongue. “No one makes this one cum unless I say so.”

  Trixie trembled up at him, nursing a small stream of blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. “I… I’m sorry – I just…. I thought he was like the others…”

  Mason sneered, infuriated by the mere sight of her. “He isn’t,” he spat. “Now get out of my sight.”

  Trixie didn’t need to be asked twice, quickly rising back to her feet and hurrying back in the direction of them motel, leaving Jeff and Mason alone. Mason sighed, hanging his head to try and regain his composure. The anger came so naturally from him, and yet something about it seemed almost taxing for him. He clearly preferred his more soft-spoken approach.

  “…May I cum, sir?”

  He turned his head to look at Jeff, surprised to hear the slave’s voice at all. There was a barely contained energy about him, Mason realized. His skin seemed rigid and tense, his legs were shaking. His head was bowed, as if he lacked the energy to raise it. And further south, between his legs, Jeff was still very much erect, overtaken with primal, carnal desires beyond his control or understanding.

  A faint smile crept over Mason as he stepped behind the slave, reaching between his legs and fondling his rock-hard dick. “You need it, don’t you boy?” he mused, his voice quiet and curious. Jeff kept his head low, a strange feeling of shame coming over him just for asking anything of this man, this brooding, dominant master. But after Trixie’s teasing, Jeff was dying to cum, a nearly uncontrollable urge, and his newly empowered submissive instincts knew that cumming meant begging for it.

  So Jeff begged for it.

  “Please sir… please make me cum…”

  Mason chuckled. “Looks like the night out here did you some good,” he said, giving Jeff’s dick a hearty squeeze. Jeff gasped in response, completely beholden to Mason’s touch.

  “Oh, God… Sir, please�
��” Jeff moaned again, practically a whine, “this slave needs to cum.”

  Mason narrowed his eyes, thinking about it. Then after a few seconds:

  “Not yet.”

  Jeff let out a whining groan. Mason released his cock, letting it spring back up, bouncing against his stomach. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a key ring, and began unlocking the padlocks securing Jeff in place.

  “No,” he repeated as the first lock clicked, “I don’t think I’ll be making you cum right now…”

  He leaned in close, his lips landing over Jeff’s ear. What he said next sent a frigid chill down Jeff’s already tingling spine.

  “I’d prefer to watch X do that,” he whispered.

  ~*~

  Hands cuffed behind his back, ankles cuffed just a few inches apart, and sore beyond belief from his night hunched over in the stocks, Jeff struggled to stay upright as Mason half led and half dragged him back towards the motel. As they hobbled along, they passed Gus, who was busy leading a slave of his own towards the dungeon, pushing him along like a wild animal via a long metal pole that clipped to the steel collar around his neck. The slave made no sound and avoided Jeff’s eyes as they crossed paths, careful to keep his head bowed, his stare low to the ground, but Jeff did catch a glimpse of the scar tissue seared into his backside: the Roman numeral VI. Just like the “X” burned across Danny’s ass.

  “Don’t worry,” Mason said, his voice hushed as he watched Jeff clocking the slave. “We’ll have you in your own collar soon enough.”