Date: Sun, 07 Oct 2001 18:53:06 -0400 From: Tom Cup Subject: Kevin - Series Chapter 12 Kevin by Tom Cup Copyright 2000, 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Tom Cup Library Please visit the member's area of the Tom Cup Library for Chapter 9 of The Lion of Bolognia (Kevin Chapter 23); Chapter 27 of "Calvin"; Chapter 12 of "Angel"; "David's Christmas Present" (Revised with new additions and chapters by Tom Cup); Chapters 6 of "A Place Called Home"; Chapter 2 of "In Memory of Steve". Also available Tommy -- The Return -- Chapter 2, "Stephen Miller's Journal" Chapter 1; "The Day My Life Began" and many more series and short stories! Once again, thank you for your support, and as always, your e-mail is much appreciated. ************************************************************************ To support this and other stories by Tom Cup, join the Tom Cup Library at: http://tomcup.iscool.net *********************************************************************** Kevin Chapter 12 By Tom Cup It took me a few minutes to realized what had happened but the aching on the side of my face, and around my eye, reminded me quick enough when I came to. It was dark. I couldn't tell if it was because night had fallen or because the curtains were drawn. There was a musty stench in the air; the place smelled old. I was lying on the floor; shivering, and realized I was naked. There was a draft coming from somewhere. I tried to get up and discovered I was also bound; tape surrounded my ankles and my wrists were taped behind my back. I could hear a faint whimper to my left and a scrapping sound to my right. "So you up faggot?" Chuck jeered stuffing more of whatever he was eating into his mouth, "Ain't such a tough shit now, are ya?" I tried to say, `Fuck you,' but realized that tape also covered my mouth. Chuck was gloating; laughing to himself; enjoying his game of revenge. I was surprised by my reactions to what was happening: I was more angry than afraid. He had destroyed the best day of my life. Once again he had proven what a hateful bastard he really was. My birthday party would have gone from a celebration to the chaos of a search, once my presence was missed. My mind drifted to Tony, Marie and Antonio. I wondered if I would ever see them again but I quickly recovered from any thought that I would not; they would come looking for me. I knew it as surely as I knew that Chuck would want to torture me beyond belief. If he had been cruel, living with us back in Philly, when I was trying to be as good a boy as I could to please him; how much more would he punish me now that I had crossed him? The whimpering sound became a sob and I knew it was Richy. I tried to wiggle myself over to him so he wouldn't be so afraid. I knew that was what Chuck wanted most, for us to be afraid. I wasn't going to give him that, no matter what. "Being brave," Antonio had told me, "doesn't mean you don't feel fear. It means that even in the face of fear you do what you think is right." I will be brave, I thought to myself, no matter what: I must be brave. It was my only hope of surviving Chuck and saving Richy. "Where fuck you think you're going?" Chuck screamed and Richy's cries grew louder, "Get the fuck back over there!" I slid back to the wall and propped myself up trying to focus on what was happening. My left eye throbbed and was swollen shut. I didn't know if Richy had been hurt but I knew he was probably bound as I was. I knew for sure he was scared shitless. I had to get Chuck to calm down. The more he yelled the more it would frighten Richy. I sat there and stared in his direction, waiting for the vision in my right eye to clear enough to make out his figure, in the darkness. "You fucked up. You hear me?" he screamed, "You fucked up big time. That's right. You fucked with the wrong mother fucker!" He was drunk or close to it. I knew the tone and inflections. Usually, by this point he would be kicking the shit out of me. He had only hit me the once, I thought, Why? Why didn't he stomp the shit out of me? And why was he only verbally abusing me now? This was his chance. He had me. He could do anything he wanted to me but he was just yelling. "You fucked up everything, you piece of shit," he continued, "That sister of yours was coming along. Few more weeks and she would have brought a nice price every time she spread her legs." He laughed to himself. "Hell, Marcy would have brought even more. I could've been living high on the hog. But no! You had to fuck it all up! Now, I can't even go back to the neighborhood. Pigs fucking everywhere!" He took the last sip of whatever he was drinking, and standing up, he began moving toward me. "It's OK though,' he whispered, "Cause your ass is gonna get me my money. That's right pussy boy, I found me a buyer for your tight ass." He laughed kneeling down in front of me and I turned my face from the stench of the booze on his breath. "Don't you turn away from me bitch!" he yelled grabbing my face and forcing me nose to nose with him, "I'll be living somewhere warm, with a wad of cash in my pocket, knowing that you are getting dicked every fucking day, for the rest of your miserable life." He smirked and spat in my face. A buyer? He was planning to sale me? I started to laugh and he stared at me in disbelief. "What the fuck's so funny?" he asked and I knew I had guessed right. "What the fuck's so funny?" he repeated grabbing at the tape on my mouth and ripping it away painfully. "Owww!" I cried for a second and started laughing again just as Antonio would. "You best be telling me what the fuck you think is so funny before I kick the shit out of you!" he demanded. "That's the best news you could have ever given me," I said, "At least I won't have to be around you!" I grimaced and waited for him to slap me, punch me, kick me or whatever method he would use to hurt me. In the end, he only spat at me again and my confidence grew. Chuck smirked and said, "Yeah, I bet you would rather get fucked than be with me." He walked back to the table and grabbed a cigarette and lit it. He stood staring at me blowing out his long inhales. "You like getting fucked don't you?" he asked. "It's better than being beat all the time by you." I retorted staring at him. I had never before dared to speak to Chuck in this manner. In the past, any comment or hesitation to obey him was met with swift retribution. I didn't care. Either he would beat me senseless, kill me or sale me; it really didn't matter to me. I was sick of being afraid of him. When I lived in Philly, his kind of parenting was all I knew so I accepted it; it was the way things were. Tony, Marie and Antonio had shown me something else. I was no longer willing to accept Chuck as some sort of father figure, that I should bow down to, because he said so. It's funny when you think about it. I thought that I did what he said because he was so mean and could hurt me; but in the end I obeyed him because he was the father I had at the time. It was the same for all the men in my mom's life. Once they hung around for a while, I accepted them as my father and doing that, unknowingly, agreed to take whatever type of parenting they gave. No more! "Why were you so mean to us," I ventured to ask, "We would have done anything you asked. You didn't have to be so mean." "What!" Chuck screamed coming toward me, "Who the fuck do you think you are!." I again braced myself but he stopped just in front of me flicking his spent cigarette at my face. "You brats needed to be taught a lesson. All of you! Nothing but shit." With that he went over and kicked at Richy. He screamed more from horror than hurt and Chuck turned to me with that same stupid smirk on his face. "Leave him alone," I said dryly, "He's not the one you're pissed at. If you have to beat someone, beat me." Chuck laughed and pulled Richy up forcing him up against the wall. Richy was in a panic and the fear caused him to release his bladder down his leg and on to Chuck's pants. Chuck dropped him and Richy sat sobbing in embarrassment and fear. "You fucking brat!" Chuck screamed and drew back to strike him. "Don't!" I screamed and to my surprise he stopped. "Why shouldn't I beat the little bastard?" Richy's breaths were frantic; his eyes begging as tears showered his face. "Because it's me you really want to hurt." "You're right about that. But I know how much you love this piece of shit. Hurting him would hurt you far worst than just beating the shit out of you." "I don't want to do this." "Do what?" "Play this stupid game," I answered glaring at him, "What do you want Chuck? If your going to sale me, then sale me. I don't care. I just don't want to ever see you again." "You fucking piece of shit!" he yelled, "I ought to kick the shit out of you." That was when it became cemented in my mind; he kept threatening to beat me but he didn't. I had nothing to lose, I decided, and pushed further. "You most certainly will not," I stated in my best Marie impersonation, "You need me and I'm sure your `buyer' doesn't want damaged goods. I suspect he will be rather displeased at what you've already done to my face." Chuck stepped back staring at me and then laughed out loud. I watched him careful. I remembered Marie and Tony in the library the day they told me he had gotten away. Yes, I thought, you are afraid. This buyer has just become my ally. "I'll tell you what," I continued, "I'll go along. I'll do what you tell me and won't cause any problems when the time comes. I'll make this transaction easy for you. You'll get your money, and know that I am being used like the slut you want, but I want something in return." He laughed again and said, "You, shit hole, are in no position to bargain for anything or haven't you noticed?" "Oh," I said as calmly as I could, "but I am. I'm sure the kind of people that buy boys aren't in the game to get fucked by the people that sell them the boys. I could really piss them off or maybe some important client they send me to fuck. I could fight like hell any time anyone tried to touch me. I could kick and bite at them; try to run away every chance I got. Maybe, even when they come to have a look at me. Yeah, I'm sure they would beat the shit out of me but you've done that before; right Chuck? I could take it over and over again. But after awhile they would get tired of me and come looking for you. They'd want their money back and maybe even a piece of your ass." I smiled and his eyes widened. He was nowhere near as able to hide his emotion as Tony, Marie or Antonio. He was falling open like a cheap dime store romance novel. "On the other hand," I said, "I could be a nice obedient `pussyboy'. They would be so grateful you made the deal that they might even give you a bonus. Hell, they might even set you up with more business!" He started pacing; rolling over, in that dog shit he had for a brain, what I was saying. "It's very simple really," I pressed, "You need me and I need you. You're right, I fucked up your life and for that I should pay but not Richy. He's been through enough. Let him go and I will bend over and take it up the ass, right in front of you, if you like." He looked shocked and returned to the chair he was sitting in. I waited. Richy had stopped crying but was looking wide eyed at me. "What do you take me for," he asked finally, "I let him go now and what insurance do I have you'll go through with it." "You're right," I admitted, "So, when the buyer gets here, Richy will be released. Agreed?" I could see him trying to find a hole in my argument. Knowing Chuck, I had guess correctly. There was no way he would have spent the time hunting me down only to punch me once and then stand over me yelling. No way! If he had been bluffing about this buyer, the moment I had done anything to piss him off I would have been beaten within an inch of my life. No, I thought, he's got a buyer and that buyer wants me in good condition. He finally nodded and I took one last stab. "Hear me Chuck," I said trying to sound as much like Tony as I could, "You cross me and I'll make sure that they hate ever meeting me. I'll make sure they hunt you down like a dog. I'll scream, and cry, and tell them it was all suppose to be a scam; that you knew I wouldn't do the things they asked. Once this is done, Chuck, you are never to bother my family again!" He laughed and I knew I had all I could get. At 3:30 in the morning, we were dragged to the beat up Buick he had picked up somewhere and tossed in the back. He had removed the tape from our mouths and legs but our hands were still bound behind our backs. "I'm scared," Richy said. "It'll be all right," I told him. Chuck chattered about how he had originally planned just to beat the shit out of me when he found me; maybe dump my body somewhere. I knew he was just trying to make the trip worst. It worked with Richy. It just pissed me off. "Then as luck would have it," he continued, "I'm sitting at this underage tit bar, of course they weren't young enough for my taste, and the guy next to me makes the same comment. `Damn,' he says, `wish they were younger.' So we get to shooting the shit, and I tell him I got this tape." He stopped to laugh and looked back at me through the rear view mirror for effect. "We go back to his hotel room and pop in the tape of me and your darling sister Donna; with me eating and fingering that sweet pussy." I felt sick and Chuck laughed shaking his head like he had just told the best joke in the world. `Anyway," he said becoming more serious, "This guy pulls out this tape he's got of boys about your age, hell, younger than you; taking cock anyway you can imagine. So I ask the guy where the hell they find kids like that and he tells me most of them are bought. `You know,' he says, `Mr. and Mrs. So and So leave for vacation with their son What's His Name and he's lost at the airport never to be seen again. Well, here he is! Bought and paid for and doing a wonderful job!' That's when it hit me! It was prefect! After I tell him about you, the guy tells me he could ask around to see if anyone is interested and, BINGO! two days later I got a buyer." He drove us down to the piers; to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. There were two men waiting outside. As soon as the car pulled up, one of them left and went inside; probably, I thought, to tell the buyer his merchandise had arrived. The man at the door looked shocked, as we got out of the car bound and naked, but said nothing. We followed Chuck toward him but he didn't move. "I have business," Chuck said but the man seemed unimpressed. Chuck seemed a bit annoyed and then straightened himself and said, "I am here on business," pointing back at us. The man smiled but, again, did not move. Chuck looked back at me and I just shrugged. Before long we heard the footsteps of the second man returning; he whispered into the doorman's ear and he said, "The Lion will see you now." The warehouse was full of crates and boxes but was comfortably warm. We followed the first man up the stairs with the doorman flanking us. We came to an immense wood carved door that was completely out of place in the warehouse. I couldn't help it; I started examining the door noting the craftsmanship; this was no window dressing but a piece of hand carved art. Marie would've been proud of me, I thought. The bodyguard opened the door for us and we entered a room that was just as impressive as the door. Beautiful works of art, dressed in frames that were pieces of art themselves, adorned the walls. At the far wall sat a man, dressed in a tasteful suit smoking a cigar, behind a desk that was just as finely worked as the door. The bodyguard approached him and, whispering in his ear, took a position at his right side. The man nodded and waved us toward him. He seemed familiar but I couldn't place him. I knew one thing for sure: this was a man of power. A man use to welding power over other people and getting what he wanted. "You are the Lion?" asked Chuck. I stared at the man trying to read something in his demeanor but could see nothing. He didn't bother to answer Chuck's question; simply took a long drag off the cigar, rolled it in fingers and brought it to his nose. "This is the merchandise you promised," he stated, "Looks like damaged goods." Chuck's mouth dropped open; but it was just what I had hoped. "If I may, sir," I said stepping forward, "It's my fault. I slipped and fell. But it is only a bruise and I heal quickly. I'm sure I'll please you." The man smiled and I stepped back. "Well trained I see," he said and Chuck visibly relaxed and exhaled. "What of the little one," the man asked and fear leapt into my heart. "Ah, forgive me for bringing him," Chuck said, "But he's not for sale." "Everything is for sale," the man snapped. "He's my brother," I confessed, "I promised to do whatever you wanted as long as he was set free." The man raise one eyebrow slightly; then nodded and smiled at me. I had seen him before. I scanned the room and there it was in the center of the wall to my right; newly mounted in a gold trimmed frame, the painting of the man sleeping in the lion's den. "See something you like?" he asked. I nodded. "Of course you do," he stated, "It is a thing of beauty. Like yourself." He smiled, "I am a connoisseur; a lover of things beautiful. From the moment I first saw you, I knew you belonged among the possessions of the Lion." He took another long drag from his cigar. "We will see to it that your brother goes free." He motioned to the doorman and he came over and started to lead Richy away. "No Kevin," he cried, "I don't want to leave you." I turned to him and snapped, "Go! Now!" and I watched as he was led away through the door. "I'm ready," I said turning back to the man. He smiled and slowly stood. He walked over to me and gently brushed the side of my bruised cheek. "There is nothing like family is there, Kevin?" he asked. I shook my head as the tears began flowing down my face. "Please promise that he'll be safe," I begged, "I'll do anything. I just want my family safe." He smiled and answered, "You have the Lion's word on that." Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com