Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2005 12:00:19 -0400 From: Richard Subject: Naked School Teacher Chapter 15 We've reached the end of this story. It's been a lot of fun, and I've especially enjoyed the email comments I've received - the good and the bad! I haven't answered some of the email over the last couple of weeks, but now that I'm done, I promise I will. I resisted the temptation to tie up every single loose end -- so there is room for you to imagine the future for David and Mac. I am now intending to try my hand at a 'publishable' novel. I want to thank the Nifty Archive for this opportunity to really try my hand at something I've always wanted to do. This is an original work of fiction, though based upon some true locations and general circumstances. All of the characters exist only in my own fevered imagination and none of the sexual incidents actually happened. I'm happy to hear your thoughts about the story. My sincere thanks to those who have written me. Your encouragement is helpful in motivating me to write. Love you all. Naked School Teacher Chapter 15 Reginald Bennett eventually took charge and things swung into motion at the little hotel in Tunbridge Wells. It was decided that it was far too dangerous for either of the boys to return to the school, so Reginald called the headmaster and fixed it so they could stay the night. He rented another room for them, and in spite of all their protests, packed them off to bed long before all the details were sorted out. Max called his contacts in the London Police force and an intrigued detective promised to be there first thing in the morning. Max's hacker friend began working on all his documentation so he'd have a file to hand over to the cops as soon as they needed it. Simon and Delroy were to go to the estate, posing as tourists and equipped with cell phones, as soon as the stately home opened. They would scout out possible locations where David and Mac might be held. The others would accompany the police to the Turret Room. Afterwards Max and Tom would try to get down to the estate. Reginald Bennett would act as the command centre, return to the hotel and keep in touch with everyone. They slept a few hours and then everyone was up at the crack of dawn, too excited to sleep. Detective Chief Inspector Horace Rathbone of Scotland Yard arrived at the hotel at an impressive seven o'clock in the morning. He must have left home around five-thirty! Inspector Rathbone was a tall, gaunt man in his mid-forties. He was ram-rod straight, in more ways than one. His eyes a piercing ice blue that stared with terrifying penetration into the hearts of bad men everywhere. With Max and the group, he was relaxed and jovial, making everyone feel relaxed and exuding a kind of confidence and assurance that they all badly needed to feel. "So then, what's this all about?" he began as they sat in a quiet corner of the hotel's breakfast room. Plates of steaming scrambled eggs and toast sat before them. The boys had felt sick with apprehension and could not imagine eating anything. "An army marches on it's stomach," pronounced the Inspector with twinkling eyes. Suddenly Delroy and Tom realized they were famished and began to devour the mountain of food before them! "Okay, Horry, it's like this," began Max, and he laid out their suspicions and the circumstances relating to the suspected boy-porn ring being operated out of the school. "Have you boys been involved in this?" the Inspector asked sharply. The boys shook their heads, mouths stuffed with eggs. "Chief Inspector," began Reginald Bennett, "they actually have been involved ^Ö we think, but not willingly or knowingly." He went on to explain about the hidden cameras. The Inspector's eyes raised. When they explained that Mac had found a hidden computer with incriminating evidence on it, the Inspector was getting seriously interested. "Can you take me to this computer?" "Yes, we can, but we also have stored a copy of some of the information," Simon pulled up his Powerbook and turning it to the Inspector's view began to scroll through some of the files. "I've also had a expert friend of mine take a look at the email archives and do some sleuthing," offered Max. "Hmmm," murmured the Inspector, looking up at Max, "why didn't you call us in sooner?" "Well, Inspector," Reginald jumped in soothingly, "we were just beginning to put two and two together when events suddenly moved too quickly for us," and he filled the Inspector in on the latest developments. How Mac had just discovered the computer ^Ö the actual evidence they needed ^Ö how he been kidnapped, then how David had attempted a rescue and not been heard from since. "We believe," continued Reginald innocently, that the emails might point us to who is behind all this and where David and Mac might be held. "You might be right," said the Inspector pulling out his phone, "but it seems to me we don't have too much time as this is now a kidnapping case. My experience tells me we should move fast. Has your hacker friend done any analysis on these emails that would give us a head start?" Max couldn't believe it would be this easy, "Yes I think he has ^Ö here's his number, would you like to call him?" So the Inspector made a number of calls, and before they'd all finished breakfast, a squad from London was on it's way down, a couple of police computer experts were on their way to Max's hacker friend, and the local Chief of Police was alerted to activate a sizable squad to stand by. "As soon as we have some inclination as to where they are being held, we can move," he explained. The others nodded in awe at the speed with which this man had galvanized the resources. "Now," he continued, take me to that computer in the Turret. Reginald Bennett led the way in his car. He would drive back to the hotel later. Simon went with him. The estate didn't open until around noon, so he'd come back to the hotel with Reginald and drive his own car from there. Max and the two boys went in the Chief Inspector's car. It was a sleek fast black Jaguar. The boys were ecstatic to ride in it and plied the driver with endless questions. Max and the Inspector sat in the back talking. At the school, it was breakfast time and almost everyone was in the dining hall. Delroy led the group up the Turret stairs and proudly opened the secret room. Everyone was astonished. Inside he had to search for the second switch, but Mac's description was quite clear. Soon they were all staring at the computer sitting in the second room. "Okay," said the Inspector, satisfied that this story seemed to be shaping up as substantially true. He trusted Max and could not imagine him deliberately misleading him, but one never knew. A quick look at the computer files established that he had indeed seen copies on the backup at the hotel. He also got a look at some of the photos and also at the hidden camera monitoring software. One or two boys, late for breakfast were still showering, the Inspector noticed as he tested out some of the camera links. This was quite an operation! The Inspector was very careful with the computer. He had the foresight to don thin surgical gloves before touching anything and he warned everyone else to keep their hands in their pockets. He checked through a large number of pictures, finally turning up pictures of David and Mac. David was naked in the showers with the school soccer team. Mac was lying naked on his bed jerking off! The Inspector looked at all of them. They all blushed. Tom was feeling relieved that the picture of him fucking David had not popped up on the screen! The Inspector's next words deflated him. "I can see that this material is going to be problematic for many people. We will go through it all and try to identify as many boys as we can, then contact their families to see what we can do to help." `Oh god,' thought Tom, `me mum's gonna know!' The Inspector phoned his driver and ordered him to come up the turret stairs. "I'll want you to remain in here to secure this room until we get some people in to do a proper collection of evidence," he announced. While the Inspector and Max visited a surprised Headmaster in his apartment, Reginald, Simon, Delroy and Tom all drove back to the hotel. They had an early lunch and leaving Reginald behind they drove down to the Stately Home to be there just after it opened to the public on this, it's last day of the season. The three `tourists' wandered around the grounds, visited the gift shop and noted the time of the first guided tour of the day. They had some time to kill, but they wandered around the parts of the house that were available to them, marveling at the opulent furnishings and artwork. Up at the school a mile away, Inspector Rathbone was gasping in amazement on his cell phone, "Are you sure? Absolutely sure? I cannot make a mistake on this!" He got off the phone and immediately made another. He turned away from Max and the Headmaster. They had all been sitting in the Headmaster's large living room when the Inspector's cell phone had rung. He took the call from his team that had visited Max's hacker. The news was electrifying. It also meant he could not act on his own. Hence the second phone call. Then a third. By the time he got off the phone, an Emergency Task Force group had been mobilized from Tonbridge, the local Tunbridge Wells group had changed out of uniform and into plain clothes. A large group of tourists were about to descend on the local attraction! Finally, the secret service was swinging into action and a group of agents were climbing into a helicopter somewhere in London. By the time the first guided tour of the day was getting started with Simon, Delroy and Tom following the small group, the first of the ETF was assembling in the parking lot of the school. The first job of the ETF was to secure the school's soccer field to receive the secret service helicopter. The boys were being kept inside the school, but nothing could prevent them from gazing at all the excitement through the windows! The Tunbridge Wells police group arrived at the school to pick up the Inspector and Max. They were in assorted civilian cars in groups of two to five, dressed in an almost conspicuous variety of clothing! They staggered their arrival at the parking lot of the stately home over a period of about an hour. They wandered aimlessly around like tourists do, waiting for the second and third guided tours of the day. As he studied the remarkable rose garden, the Inspector noted other people arriving who were carrying small black sports bags. "That's odd," he remarked to Max, nodding at two or three people walking from their cars carrying the bags. He followed them at a distance and saw them go into the reception area, speak to the clerk who let them into a door marked, "No Admittance." He and Max continued to watch until they'd seen more than a dozen people go into the same door. The Inspector spoke to the clerk during a lull in arrivals, "Seems quite busy today," he began conversationally. "Oh, you've no idea!" the exasperated girl exclaimed, "Last day of the bleedin' season is supposed to be real quiet! There should be two ov us on if it's busy ^Ö I can't even go to pee!" she wailed petulantly. "That's too bad," sympathized the Inspector, "I can see it's really busy." "They should never `ave private events on busy days!" she wailed as another group of `tourists' ^Ö more of Inspector Rathbone's troops arrived. After they'd been served, Rathbone said, "Oh I didn't know you did private events?" "Oh yes, this is big ^Ö one of the boss's dress up ones, I'd say." "Dress up?" "Yeah. I dunno exactly what they do, but when they come with these bags, it's generally a fancy dress do!" The Inspector returned to Max and also indicated one of his men to join them. "I need to get one of those bags those people are carrying," he nodded to the parking lot where some more of the mysterious guests were arriving. They waited for a likely looking victim ^Ö someone arriving alone at a time when no other bag-carrying guests were to be seen. Finally, the Inspector's man approached an elderly gentleman as he was locking his car, "Excuse me sir, could I have quiet word?" He showed his police badge. "Oh, good afternoon officer, what is this about?" They walked toward the building. The police officer indicated that the man should precede him into the washroom. Relieved of his bag, which was passed to the Inspector, the man was submitted to a body search that turned up nothing. The Inspector opened the bag and removed a long black hooded cloak lined with red satin and a white full-face mask. The Inspector turned the mask over and noticed that inside, written in black pen was scrawled the word, "Enigma." He looked at the man. "What is the nature of this event, sir?" he asked politely. "It's just a fancy dress reception." "Odd time of day, isn't it?" "This is an end of season party that goes on until quite late," the man explained. "Really officers, I don't see that you have any reason to delay me." "Well, sir, I'm afraid I will need to ask you a few more question, but down at the station. This officer will take you." The man protested, but was hustled outside, into one of the unmarked cars and whisked away. "Now," said the Inspector to Max, "I need a distraction." After their introduction to the sadistic practices of their new masters, Mac and David were taken down deep below the chamber, where their hideous masks were at long last removed. They both gasped for air, but Mac collapsed on the ground gasping and sobbing. He had worn his for almost thirty hours with no food or water and precious little air! They were put into small barred cells beside each other. There was only one solid wall - at the back. The front and sides of the cells were open bars, so they were clearly visible all around. Best of all, though, they were next door to each other with only the floor-to-ceiling bars between them. They could see each other, they could talk, and they could even touch! A vile-looking slop was left for them tasted delicious, as they were so hungry. They also had water. It took quite some time before they were able to speak more than a few words. "What the hell is this place?" croaked Mac when he could finally speak. "I don't know what it is, but I do know where we are," David answered, and told him how he had followed Johnson into the local stately home of James Stewart, only to be caught when he had almost freed Mac. "What are they going to do with us?" "I have to say it doesn't look good," David began. "We have seen Stewart now and can identify him, so they won't be intending to let us go. They seem to be using us as stars in a kind of sadistic reality show that people pay to see on the web. They'll make a fortune off us and then 'dispose' of us when we are no longer useful. If we are to get out, we're going to have to find a way to escape." "Any chance the others might spring us?" Mac whispered, looking fearfully around. No one seemed to be about. David shook his head, "Best not to discuss that," he whispered in an even quieter voice, and he winked. Mac permitted himself a tiny smile of optimism. They each had a rickety wooden bed with a flat pallet for a mattress. No covers. No pillows. They pushed the beds to their common wall so they could lie down side by side and hold each other through the bars. They talked about their experiences of the last few hours, and it seemed less traumatic now they were able to compare notes. At the time Mac had felt at times close to losing his mind. He cried as he told David that he really had begun to believe that he would go mad. "Stark barmy," he said to David, "thought I'd lose me mind altogether!" Neither could have imagined how isolating those full-head metal masks would be. They deadened all sound and made them feel cut off from other people and unable to anticipate events as they unfolded. The torture, the alternate pain and pleasure were less traumatic for them than the emotional, physical and spiritual isolation they suffered. They both agreed that they did not want the hoods on again. Ever. "David," murmured Mac as he was beginning to get sleepy, "when we get out of here, we have to make some decisions." "Oh?" queried David, wondering what he meant. "Yeah. For one, I want to come and live with you. Permanently." "Oh." "For another, I want you to have sex only with me!" "Okay," David said tentatively, wondering how these things were to be accomplished, given that Mac was still a minor and that David was still in a position of authority over him. "I thought we might go to Canada for a coupla weeks." "What!" exclaimed David. "Why would we want to do that? Not that I've got anything against Canada!" "We could get married there," murmured Mac sleepily. "Oh. Right," said David as Mac dropped into a sound sleep. Before too long David joined him. As Max impersonated a moronic tourist who had a hard time understanding the simplest directions, Inspector Rathbone slipped unnoticed into the "No Admittance" door. Inside, he wandered cautiously down a corridor lined with doors, following the low murmur of voices. He finally entered an open door marked "Men" and found two or three men who had preceded him carrying the same kit bags. They stripped naked, he was surprised to note, and then donned their enveloping black cloaks, set their white masks in place and covered their heads with the hoods. Each mask was different, Inspector Rathbone also noticed. The nodded a greeting, but did not speak to him. They seemed to be speaking of some mutual business interests. Inspector Rathbone began to disrobe, wondering how he would carry his communication device. It was very sleek and inconspicuous. A hardly noticeable button in his ear that incorporated a bone conduction microphone, no wires and a power unit no bigger than a cigarette lighter that had to be concealed somewhere. He dithered long enough that the others had left before he had to figure it out. By that time he was naked, had stuffed the unit in his sock and pushed the button in his ear, brushing his longish hair over his ears. As two other men arrived, he was putting on his costume. Again, he dithered long enough that he could follow the men to their next destination. Rathbone held back from the group ahead of him to try to observe the procedure so he could emulate them, and also to make sure that his deputy out in the grounds could hear him. They established communication with Rathbone muttering in a barely audible fashion. He described his progress and approximate location, so the others could follow at the right time. His men were already wandering all over the grounds and had just about got the entire main building surrounded - though inconspicuously! Rathbone, following at a distance saw the men go down a set of stairs into a basement level. They were met at a large steel door by a burly security guard, who asked them something. Each man answered for himself, and the guard nodded and opened the door to let him in. 'Damn!' thought Rathbone. He'd been too far back to overhear what was said. He approached the door and the man said, "Good evening sir. What is the Word?" 'The Word?" thought Rathbone, his mind racing. Surely he could not be balked at this point. He considered retrieving his badge from where he had shoved it in his sock, but then that would probably ensure that the entire group inside melted innocently into the woodwork! Each of the men had answered - one Word did not do for all of them. They each had a -- Word. Then he remembered. Of course! "Enigma," he intoned. The word that was scrawled inside his mask by its forgetful owner! "Have a good evening sir," the guard opened the door and Rathbone, sweating with relief, passed through. Rathbone walked slowly down a brick-lined passageway that gradually widened out. He could hear a rhythmic chanting from up ahead. The passageway opened out into a vast chamber, completely lined in brick. There were several levels of tiers descending to a kind of focal point at the centre of the room. Standing around the highest terraces around the room were black-cowled masked figures. They formed an eerie unsettling sight. The deep chanting seemed to emanate from the very structure around him, having no location and no direction. It sounded like a cross between Greek Gregorian and Tibetan throat chanting. It became so deep and slow at times, that he could feel his teeth vibrate in his head. Rathbone saw the group ahead of him join one of the tiers below and stand as part of the circle facing the centre. Rathbone followed and joined in beside them. As he did so there was a kind of ripple running all around the chamber. Startled, Rathbone glanced around to try to discern what had happened. It was difficult to be precise because with everyone masked he could neither tell where they were looking nor read any facial expressions. He had the impression that their attention was upon him. He studied the tiered circles of figures opposite, to try to figure out why. Then suddenly, with a sickening jolt to the pit of his stomach, it hit him! Rathbone was standing in the circular tier second from the top, so there was a row behind him. There was also a third tier in front of him, and it was that line of figures that caught his attention. Every figure on the lower tier had robes lined in red. The other two tiers, including Rathbone's, wore robes that were lined in white. Rathbone had joined the wrong tier, and everyone noticed. Shit! Concious of all eyes in the room falling upon him from behind the inscrutable non-human masks, Rathbone moved to his right until he found a spot where he could drop down into the red tier. He couldn't tell if he'd improved the situation or made it worse. The room settled down. More people arrived. The chanting continued. Rathbone studied the small group at the centre of the chamber. There were five, one of whom was clearly the leader. Rathbone wondered if he was Stewart. They were all identical except for the facial expressions on their white masks. In front of them six steel cables emerged from holes in the floor and soared up to the ceiling high above disappearing into the gloom. Only flaming torches set in sconces around the perimeter illuminated the entire cavernous vault. It gave the red-bricked structure a flickering red-glowing, hellish appearance. The mysterious black figures with their white masks catching the red light and the deep, sonorous chanting enhanced this feeling that he had stepped into the Devil's lair. So suddenly that Rathbone's heart almost ceased to beat, the chanting stopped. The utter silence was, by comparison, almost deafening. Rathbone felt shivers run up his spine and the hairs on the back of his head definitely lifted! A slow, dramatic and very deep bass drum beat started up. Rathbone could not see where the singers were nor where this new drummer was -- perhaps it was piped in over hidden speakers. As the drumming began, the assembled watchers began to sway side to side in unison. Rathbone joined them. All eyes seemed to be focused on the ground in front of the leaders where the cables emerged. As he watched in fearful fascination, the floor opened up into a wide cavernous and dark pit. The cables began to move up into the ceiling. As they did so, some large objects began to emerge from the floor. This was truly terrifying to Rathbone, hardened cop though he was! He was now sweating and trembling and felt freezing cold shivers running down his spine. His hands and feet felt cold as ice. When he saw what emerged from deep underground to hang suspended low down in the crowded vault, he almost cried out in horror! It looked like three crucified yet still living naked men! David and Mac awoke naturally after a deep sleep. They were still holding hands and felt re-invigorated. They stared at each other and kissed through the bars. It was hard to caress properly, but they touched each other in places they could reach, often having to withdraw an arm and re-enter between other bars to reach another body part. It was like making love to their prison bars as well as to each other! The feel of the cold steel on their bodies became a part of the eroticism of the moment. They quickly became erect and they played with the erections, fondling the tight testicles, spreading the glistening pre-cum over the shafts. Soon they were both on the edge, their lips locked between the bars. Their hands grasped the cocks protruding between other bars. They slowed their activity down to maintain each other on the brink of cumming. Sighing and nuzzling, they floated in a blissful Eden for long minutes. Finally they moved more intensely and they spurted with satisfying violence into their hands. They dozed in blissful contentment. "Well, that was very lovely, boys!" exclaimed a voice. They sat up blearily to see a rough-looking burly man staring at them through the bars. "Time to get up!" They dragged themselves reluctantly from their hard beds and warm embrace. The man unlocked one cage at a time, fastening a chain leash to a testicle-shackle before allowing them to exit their prison. They were effectively restrained. One sharp pull caused great pain, and a severe tug on the chain would threaten to rip their balls right off! Neither felt inclined to chance it. The man led them, of all places, to a shower. The warm soapy water was utter bliss after their ordeal. However, the jailer hurried them along, tugging their leash if he felt they were taking too long. David tried using lots of soap on his testicle restraint, hoping he could slip it off, but found it was just too tight. Finally they were clean and were dragged away by their balls, still wet. Back in the torture chamber, they dried rapidly in the hot atmosphere, standing near to a blazing forge where a blacksmith was busy constructing arcane and terrifying devices. A couple of men stripped to the waist and wearing only a dirty leather loin-cloth, began to fit them with some kind of metal device. They made a number of adjustments before finally fitting and securing it. Only then did it become clear what it was. In some ways it was quite beautiful. It was a light and airy cage-like device that held their arms straight out from their shoulders, and braced across their backs, with a neck brace that also came under their jaws, with a rubbery kind of tongue depressor. Once locked down, they were held head facing forward, arms straight out and unable to speak. The beauty of the device was in the metalwork. It looked vaguely Giger-esque. It was smooth, with rounded edges, open fret-work in natural forms. It surrounded their arms, necks and jaws in a light cage. They were free to move around, but unable to move their arms or their heads. Or speak. A devilishly effective device. Once the cage was attached, effectively handicapping them, the ball restraints were removed. Somewhere far above, they could faintly hear something that sounded like Gregorian chanting. Neither could raise his head up to look. They were constrained to look only straight ahead. David felt a rising sense of panic. A third man, shackled in exactly the same way was brought over to join them. He was tall, dark haired, with a thatch of black hair on his chest and a line of hair down to his pubic area. The pubes were trimmed and his balls were shaven. He was a well-built, muscular guy perhaps in his mid-thirties, David guessed. He looked utterly terrified! His piercing blue eyes gazed with silent pleading at David. He looked as though the spirit had left him and he was afraid for his life. He was made to stand between the two boys. Long chains that dangled down from the ceiling were clipped to rings placed halfway along their arms cages, two chains to each man. Their jailers stood back as if waiting for something. Overhead the monotonous chanting continued, though muffled. Suddenly, the chanting stopped. In the silence they could hear a loud grating noise above them, but could not see what was happening. All three were straining their eyes upwards from their locked heads, fearful of what new horror was to befall them. Then the chains tightened and they found themselves rising slowly off the ground! The older man raised up first and when he had lifted up about three feet, the other two began to rise. They rose into the ceiling and found themselves staring with wide eyes at a scene so full of implied threat and horror, that had their mouths not been so securely fastened, they would all have screamed. They were in a deep, tiered chamber with circles upon circles of terrible black robed figures with horrendous white masks distorted into all kinds of inhuman expressions. David could not turn his head to properly see the other two rising up with him, but as he swung and twisted slightly, he was able to catch glimpses of the three of them. It was unmistakeable! They looked like an unholy Calvary! Rathbone stared with horrified fascination as three beautiful naked men were hoisted on chains from the black depths below the chamber. They looked as if they had been crucified on crosses, but as he looked closer, he saw that they were in fact hanging loosely from some kind of metallic exoskeleton that encased their arms, shoulders, necks and came around under their jaws. The chains fastened midway along their horizontally extended arms. They stared fixedly ahead as if their necks were immobilized. Their legs moved with twitching movements. Their eyes were wide with fear and apprehension. Their bodies were dripping with sweat from the heat and the fear. Every part of their musculature stood out in relief in the flickering red light of the flames that illuminated the cavern. The doors closed below them. They hung motionless a foot from the floor. Dangling. Helpless. The drums stopped. Silence. Rathbone had no real idea who they were. He'd seen pictures of the two boys, and supposed that two of them were in fact David and Mac - though they were unrecognizable except in the most general terms - white blonde boy, black hunky boy. He had no clue as to the identity of the third member of the unholy trinity. The group in the centre stirred as if about to take some action. Rathbone murmured almost soundlessly to his listening deputy, "Stand by." The leader in the centre raised his arms above his head, with a long silver-tipped staff in his right hand. Slowly he extended the staff high aloft, then down and around, describing a great circle, pointing along each member of the watching figures around the first tier. The silver tip of the staff stopped pointing down near Rathbone's feet! He gulped. "Get ready!" he muttered. Two burly men, naked except for leather loin clothes, moved to the spot in front of Rathbone. Although he'd noticed it, the steel brazier full of burning coals, had not really registered on his mind. It stood a few feet in front of and below him. The men stood on either side, inserted steel poles into hooks on either side of the brazier then lifted and placed it close to the tall dramatic leader. Then they moved to stand on either side of the man hanging in the centre of the trio. Rathbone was horrified and also fascinated to see what this was about. The leader turned, reached for something and turning back he thrust something into the red-hot coals. The drums softly began to beat again. After some minutes as the drums increased in tempo and volume, the leader reached for the iron handled implement he had put into the fire. When he withdrew it, the end glowed near to white-hot. It looked like a miniature cattle brand! The men on either side of the unfortunate man in the middle, hanging helplessly naked, with his tender skin exposed not only to the gaze of all around, but now it seemed vulnerable to the fierce heartless heat of the branding iron! Rathbone muttered into his communication device, "Go! Go! GO!" The man struggled and tried to scream, but of course could do nothing. Rathbone took a step forward. The leader looked up sharply at the movement. He seemed to study Rathbone for a moment, then with a flourish and before Rathbone could react, he stepped forward and stabbed the white-hot tip of the iron onto the breast of his victim! The hefty men on each side struggled to hold him still as the sound of sizzling flesh could be heard even above the crescendo of the drums. Soon the sickly smell of burning meat wafted over the crowd. Rathbone thought he was going to throw up. Mercifully, the iron was cast aside and the leader stepped back to regard his handiwork. The victim was hanging with his head back, limp. The leader reached behind again and retrieved another branding iron. The victim did not even see it this time. After heating it up and the drums rose to an almost impossible crescendo that quickened the hearts of all in the chamber. They were all swaying in rhythm to the beat. Again the cruel hot iron was thrust to the victim's body, this time branding him on his buttock. He twitched and writhed in absolute agony. A third time a branding iron was retrieved from the fire and this time it stabbed the hapless and agonized man on the tender skin just half an inch above the base of his cock. "Now, dammit, NOW!" Rathbone almost shrieked into his microphone. Where the fucking hell were his men? The drums were now a blur of sound and the watching multitude seemed almost hypnotized by the proceedings. Rathbone stepped forward. This could not go on! The Leader, still brandishing the hot iron, swirled towards Rathbone at his movement. He pointed at him with an imperious gesture. The two loin-clothed men turned and moved toward him, holding Rathbone by each arm. With another gesture from the leader, they ripped Rathbone's cloak from his body, leaving him naked before the assembly. Rathbone gasped in surprise, it happened so quickly. Horace Rathbone was not, in most circumstances, a shy man. However, nudity was not something he had ever practiced, nor was he comfortable with it. Standing naked before dozens of people as the centre of attention was acutely embarrassing to him. Unconciously, he moved his hands to cover his genitals. His wrists were immediately grabbed and held roughly behind his back. He fervently hoped the trapdoors would open again and swallow him. They didn't. Yet. One of the men behind him ripped off his mask. A collective sigh went up from the crowd. The leader stepped back in shock, "What have you done with Enigma?" 'Now!' whispered Rathbone into his communication device. To the shocked leader, presumably the British Foreign Secretary, he said, "Enigma is quite safely being entertained by Her Majesty's Government. Less opulently than the entertainment here, I observe, Sir James." James Stewart stiffened as if it were simply NOT done to mention actual names in these circumstances! "Who are you?" "I am a police officer, and I am calling an end to these proceedings." "Well now officer, that hardly seems justified." "What are you doing with these men?" Rathbone nodded in the direction of the swinging trio, who were now desperately trying to bend their gaze around to see who was speaking, hope springing into their eyes. "They are the stars of our little fantasy show," explained Stewart smoothly, "nothing illegal, I assure you." Rathbone was annoyed that he'd been forced to reveal himself so early in the proceedings before anything incontrovertibly criminal had taken place. Perhaps the three victims (or stars!) would testify to being held against their will, but he wouldn't count on it, though surely the branded man would lay charges. "Well, please don't let my presence stop the show," Rathbone said mildly, "I'm quite interested to see what happens, so long as it doesn't involve more barbecuing of live participants." Stewart was about to reply, when he noticed a movement on the chamber's top tier. He looked up, and Rathbone followed his gaze. Rathbone's men were at long last stationing themselves all around and looking down with mild amusement at their naked boss! Blushing furiously, Rathbone cleared his throat, "Hrmm, Gentlemen, please remain where you are," he called in his loud commanding voice, turning slowly to cast his eyes all around the circular chamber, "you will be released one at a time and questioned. Do not be alarmed, if you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear. My Deputy will direct you shortly." With that, Rathbone turned to face Stewart again. "Sir James, I will require your presence at headquarters to discuss this event. Please request your men to release me." Sir James Stewart did not move nor did he acknowledge Rathbone's command. He just stood there facing Rathbone. He never quite knew what it was that triggered his move, but a split second before the trapdoors under his feet suddenly dropped with a loud clang, Rathbone leaped towards the nearest hanging man, the blonde one. He grabbed onto the outstretched metal arms, holding his body close to the other's, just as the chains rapidly descended into the depts. At the same time Stewart, black cloak flying also leaped onto the third hanging man, the black one. Rathbone wrapped his legs around his man, acutely aware that their naked cocks were crushed together. He looked into the blue eyes of the gagged and immobilized man. The man regarded him with an unreadable expression. This must be David Jones, thought the Inspector. This close - their noses were three inches apart - Rathbone could recognize David from his photograph. An utterly unmistakeable movement against his cock almost made Rathbone let go his hold! David's cock definitely twitched! Rathbone looked again into his eyes. They twinkled with amusement, though the boy could not smile, Rathbone was sure he was laughing inside! Rathbone looked away utterly humiliated and ashamed as his own cock began to respond! Pretending it wasn't happening, Rathbone peered down into the darkness, wondering how far they had to go and if he could safely jump the rest of the way. But it was too dark to see. The doors above them shut again, extinguishing even the dim red light that had spilled down into the bottomless dark. The reached the bottom in only a few seconds, though it seemed a lifetime to Rathbone, trapped with his naked body wrapped around the naked body of David Jones, while their two cocks fought with each other. Rathbone leaped from David and turned to where Sir James Stewart had likewise dismounted his naked carrier. The light here was very dim, but Rathbone could see enough. He reached out to grab Stewart, but the man evaded his grasp and disappeared into the gloom. Cursing, Rathbone moved around the space to see where he had gone, but he kept bumping into things and tripping. He eventually reached a wall and explored until he found a light switch. The hell-hole was revealed in the bare light -- the only word for it was medieval torture chamber! Racks and chains and flagellation devices were everywhere! There in the centre were the three hanging naked bodies, all squinting their eyes at the light and facing towards him mutely pleading for release. Looking around, Rathbone found a long metal spike, whose purpose he could only guess at. He shoved this into the hasp of the padlocks fastening the devices around each of the three prisoners necks. With a levering movement, he shattered the locks. As he let each one down, they held onto their arms in agony as the blood circulation returned to normal; they coughed and choked and spat in disgust, relieved to get the rancid taste of their gags from their mouths. Rathbone turned his attention to the branded man. His wounds looked red and angry, the skin burned black and crispy around the branding design. "How are they?" he asked the man. "I'll live, he gasped. Rathbone helped him to sit on a nearby bench. "Wait here, my men will find you and get you to medical treatment. I need to make sure the ringleader doesn't escape." "You going like that?" Mac asked, grinning at the Inspector's naked state. Rathbone looked down at his rock hard cock, sticking straight out from his body, "I don't seem to have much choice. He must be caught, and only I know where he went." He nodded towards the door. "Okay, I'll come with you," offered David, "Mac perhaps you could stay here with our friend to make sure he's okay and gets treatment as quickly as possible?" The naked school teacher and the naked police inspector trotted up the long sloping passageway leading from the torture chamber. There were no doorways or branches, just a long damp, brick-lined passage. They finally reached a door and opened it. They were in some kind of stables or barn that had long ago been converted into a multi-car garage. The main doors to outside were wide open, and there was no sign of Stewart. Rathbone peered cautiously outside. They were quite some distance from the main house, now enveloped in the darkness of early evening. He could see the lights of cars and police vans that had been brought in to convey the hapless participants of tonight's 'entertainment' into town. Off in the opposite direction he saw the tail brake lights of a car come on near a small copse. Stewart's car about to make a clean getaway! Rathbone spun around towards David, "No time to lose! We have to get after him before he gets clear!" There were several cars, but one was an open-top MG two seater. Rathbone found the keys in the glove compartment and in seconds they were off in hot pursuit. The fact that they were both still totally naked, in an open-top tiny sports car, on a cool mid-September evening, did not really dawn on Rathbone until they got onto the main road down beside the small wooded section, where he'd seen Stewart disappear, and picked up speed. In minutes they were freezing cold, the wind whipping around places it had no business to be whipping. A shivering David leaned forward and fiddled with the heater controls. Soon hot air was blasting at their feet, warming their legs briefly before being swirled up and out into the night. Still it was enough to make the ride slightly more bearable. Rathbone wondered what he'd do when they got to the bright lights of a town. Rathbone was an expert driver, and with this car, even on the narrow twisting roads of the Kent countryside, he drove flat out taking every corner like a pro. Soon the taillights of Stewart's car were drawing appreciably closer. Stewart was prone to making sudden last minute turns into ever smaller country roads. At one point he joined a major highway for a few miles and just managed to stay ahead of them. He took an exit from the highway at the last possible minute, and Rathbone, failing to make the same exit brought the MG to a screeching halt and had to back up, losing valuable seconds. They'd lost him! Rathbone drove slowly through a small village and spotted a Jaguar that looked like Stewart's. It was empty. He pulled up behind it and got out to investigate. The hood was warm. The doors were locked. Inside the car looked empty - nothing on the seats. As he peered through the windows, David sitting in the MG behind, the door of a nearby pub opened, spilling a couple of inebriated local men in beery good cheer onto the street. "Whoa, George, look at the naked poof!" They both laughed uproariously. "Handsome knob he's got though, eh?" They fell all over each other laughing again. Inspector Horace Rathbone drew himself up with dignified grace. Standing in the only road through this small country village, totally naked except for rather riduculous black socks and shoes. He cleared his throat, "Hrrm, have you seen the owner of this car?" The men stared with fascination at his cock, which began to grow again under their gaze. Rathbone shifted uncomfortably, too mortified with embarrassment to try to cover his errant member. "Nah, mate, never saw anything like that before -- ah, I mean I dunno the car!" "Thank you, you can be off now," rasped Rathbone. David grinned at his discomfiture. "Ha ha, we could all get off now, I reckon," laughed one of the guys as they stumbled on their merry way. They told this story many times in the following years. No-one ever believed them! Rathbone stood looking around, trying to put himself into Stewart's shoes. Really the only possible place for him to go was the pub. If he were not naked, Rathbone would not have hesitated to investigate. As it was he had no idea what to do. "Perhaps we should both go in," David suggested, sensing the reason for Rathbone's indecision. "We can both be arrested for being naked in public," Rathbone said in despair. "Seems to me we are in the middle of an emergency," said David, "doesn't the law allow you to run naked out of a burning building? Be a dumb law if it didn't!" "Well, yes there is a 'reasonable cause' provision, I suppose. 'Still, I'm not sure I can simply go in there naked." "I can," said David, realizing that there was a good side to his habit of losing his clothes all the time - he'd become quite comfortable with his body being on display in almost any situation. As it was, he'd been totally naked for more than 48 hours by now. "How about I go in first and you follow right behind me?" Seeing no alternative to standing around out here, Rathbone agreed. Kit Sherwood was almost seventy this year, and he and his wife Kitty -- yes, yes, they were Kit and Kitty! Some called them The Kitses or even the Kittens -- had run the Golden Plough all their working lives. They inherited it from Kit's father, who'd taken over from his father - four generations it had been in the family. The building itself had been an inn for hundreds of years. It had seen the Civil War and every major historical and political event since had left its mark in some way. Now a fiercely protected historical building, it had been restored with immaculate attention to detail and was a major local attraction. People came from miles around for its renowned food, local beers and comfortable ambiance. Kit and Kitty had seen everything in their time -- everything in fact, except two totally naked full-grown men walk brazenly into their pub! It was late and off season, so the pub was not as crowded as it had been an hour ago, but still had a good number of patrons sitting around the main parlour. Kit looked up as the door opened and his jaw dropped. He stared at the two men in utter shock and astonishment. Kitty saw Kit's expression first, and turned to see what had so suddenly caught his attention. She saw a tall, broad-chested man in his late forties, with a thatch of graying chest hair. As her eyes travelled down his torso, she noted the discernable abs leading down to -- ohmygod! -- to a thick patch of pubic hair, then his -- his -- Thing! Her hand went to her rounded mouth as it formed a tiny barely audible, "oh!" Then Kitty noticed the naked man's companion. This was a very attractive young -- boy, really -- he was blonde, blue-eyed, with an utterly hairless body, and also, his -- Thing -- was hanging and swinging ponderously -- much bigger than the other man's. MUCH bigger than Kit's come to that! Oh, my goodness, Kitty did not really appreciate until this moment that those Things came in a variety of sizes! She wondered momentarily what it would have been like -- not that she and Kit did -- anymore -- wait, what was she thinking? Stop it! She commanded herself. She blushed from her head to her ample bosom. Kitty fanned herself with the nearest beer mat. Kit recovered himself enough to stutter, "Oy now, yer can't come in `ere like that! Be orf wiv yer!" He flapped his hands towards the door as if he were shooing geese. Reaching the bar by this time, Horace Rathbone bent down to retrieve his official police badge. Now David, who had a bit more experience of being naked in public by this time, could have told poor Horace that when one was in the situation of being utterly and completely naked in a pub that had several people sitting all around it, you did NOT simply bend from the waist to retrieve anything from your sock. He could have raised his foot until he could reach his badge without bending, or he could have bent his knees to that he could have gracefully descended straight-backed until he could get it. Horace did not know these things. He bent completely over and plucked his badge out of his sock. Several people sitting behind this display closed their eyes in disgust, one older woman actually screamed -- not loudly, but a definite scream! Most men looked away out of the window as if there might, please God, be something fascinating out there to take their attention and to erase from their minds the image they had just seen. Poor old Horace's bum had been displayed to all and sundry in that most unflattering aspect. He bent, his ass suddenly became the only part of him that could be seen, and by comparison assumed enormous proportions! He was hairy all over, was Horace, with a light sprinkling of hair all over his buttocks. But when bent down like that, his ass cheeks opened right up to reveal the thick line of jet black hair, like the pelt of a mink. It shone in the glow of the pub's lights. In the very centre of this svelt crack, was his hoary asshole. Of course, Horace realized his mistake the second he'd made it. Standing hurriedly back up to his full height, with his badge in hand, trying to ignore the growing sounds of outrage all around, he declared with a certain amount of defiance - and it must be admitted at a greater volume than was strictly necessary, "I am a police officer! I wish to find the owner of the light grey Jaguar sedan parked outside!" He glared at Kit. Kit opened his mouth, then closed it. He could not even process the thought that not only was he confronted by a naked man, but that said naked man was also a police officer. A naked police officer! A tall slim man at the other end of the bar who had been quietly sipping his Scotch while watching the scene with amused detachment, spoke up, "Ah, Constable, the Jag is mine, I believe." Rathbone whirled towards him. He recognized him instantly. "Sir James," he said, "You've led us a merry chase!" "Oh?" his patrician eyebrows raised a touch, "I wasn't aware, I just dropped in for a night cap. What's the problem?" He rose from his bar stool, drink in hand. He moved towards Rathbone stared pointedly at the Inspector's cock as if inspecting his credentials. "I see." Rathbone realized with impotent rage that Stewart was probably free and clear -- for the moment. He would not find Stewart's incriminating cloak or mask. There would be nothing in the car to absolutely prove that it was the one they had chased from tonight's event. "I must ask you to accompany me to the police station in Tunbridge Wells," he announced hopelessly, "I am investigating some incidents tonight and I believe you can help us with our enquiries." "Well, certainly, anything to oblige, Constable," he replied smoothly, " but first I have to inform my lawyer and my security staff." He got his cell phone from his pocket and retreated to a corner out of earshot. And so it was, that half an hour later, the Honourable Sir James Stewart, Knight Commander of the British Empire drove his high powered Jaguar XLS into the forecourt of the Tunbridge Wells police station accompanied by Deputy Chief Inspector Horace Rathbone, who happened to be totally naked sitting, beside him. They were followed by David Jones, also totally naked, driving Sir James's `borrowed' MGB convertible. A large black Rover driven by Sergeant Bob Miller of MI5, assigned to ensure the safety of the British Foreign Secretary, rounded out the whole procession! This improbable scene was made all the more ironic by the fact that of all the strange facts associated with this event, perhaps the strangest of all was that the British Empire had ceased to exist over fifty years ago! The small town police station was crowded to overflowing with officers from Divisions all over the southeast and by the horde of black-cloaked men. All were required to remove their masks, but kept their cloaks along with their modesty, though they would often flap open to reveal naked torsos of every shape and size imaginable. As David and Rathbone entered the police station, many of the officers knew Rathbone and David was amused to see the enormous efforts to maintain a straight face that they made at their commander's nudity. Rathbone seemed to always react to this kind of attention by springing a boner! This of course made it more difficult for his men and also for him! Eventually someone loaned him a raincoat. He then looked like the stereotypical Flasher, which didn't help too much! David was driven to the hotel to join up with the rest of the group. He was told to remain near home until the police could find the time to question him about this night's events. At the hotel, with the group reunited Reginald Bennett, Max, Simon, David and the three boys, Max, Delroy and Tom, and for the first time free of the threat hanging over them, everyone was in a celebratory mood. Bennett had ordered food and they all, including the boys, got stuck into the beer. The television news was full of it! They watched in fascinated awe as the events they had put into motion fanned out across the country. Raids had been carried out at every known residence of the Foreign Secretary and even at his offices, both in the department and also in Parliament. It was too soon to really know anything in detail, but the police were clear that they were busting a major child porn ring with tentacles across the world. 'Hundreds of millions' of dollars, the excited media heads crowed, "It's actually billions," said David mildly. As the excitement of endlessly repeated news stories that added absolutely nothing new began to pall, they settled down to talk about what happens next. Some of them began to yawn, the issue of sleep becoming unavoidable. Mac, mindful of his desperate thoughts while in the barred cell with David, and anxious that his life would return to the utterly mundane boring world of 'before' all this, said, "Mr. Bennett?" "Yes, my boy?" "Um, you know how David -- er -- Mr. Jones got permission to look after me over the summer?" "Yes?" "Is there a way that can be for always?" "Oh!" Reginald looked first at David and then at Max, "I don't know. You still have living parents --" "But my dad threw me out!" "But still a minor and therefore in need of parental consent -- unless you are made a ward of the court, not a good option as it would be too uncertain. When are you sixteen?" "Almost a year." "Well, when you are sixteen you'll be able to leave home if you want to. Also, since David is also your teacher, I'm not sure what would be possible --" "How about if I quit the school?" "What?" David stared at him aghast. "Well, if I lived with David and went to school in Tunbridge Wells -- you know, like the other teacher's kids do?" "Hmmm," mused Reginald, "it might work --" "Now wait just a doggone minute!" yelled David in exasperation, "don't I get any say in this?" "Sorry," said Mac contritely but with a twinkle in his eye. He coughed importantly, and David noticed how the light reflected on his ebony skin as he sat amongst them - like David, both still naked, "David, would you be agreeable, if it can be legally arranged, for me to come and live with you forever, or at least until I find another boyfriend," David threw a cushion at his head, "so you can look after me until I graduate high school?" Mac paused, somewhat breathless after this long speech. "Of course the commitment would not end then, since you would also need to finance my university education!" "Oh really?" David grimaced, taking a breath wondering what he was going to say. "Because," continued Mac relentlessly, "I have decided, David, that you are not fit to be left alone too long. You need me to take you in hand. You will become a responsible parent-like figure --" David interrupted, "But I'm already a parent --" "I said a RESPONSIBLE parent." "Oh." "As I was saying -- a responsible parent. Okay -- father to two boys. You will refrain from ripping all your clothes off in front of the school, refrain from having sex with the entire audience at erotic fairs, stop starring in a world-wide-multi-billion-dollar porn industry epics, and generally settle down to a normal boring life." "Hmm," said David, pondering, "and what is in this arrangement for me -- apart from years of expense and aggravation?" "For this you get mostly, well me. You also get to stay in teaching and out of jail." Mac paused here, seeming uncertain of himself. So far he had carried this speech of almost perfectly. He had rehearsed it for weeks. He stood up and moved towards David. He reached out one hand towards Reginald, who dropped something into it. He looked David straight in the eye. "David, if you agree to all this, I have only one question." "Okay." "Do you agree?" "Yes," it was said simply but the emotion behind the word was palpable. "David Jones," Mac said almost formally as he dropped down onto one knee, "as soon as we can possibly arrange it, either now or when I'm sixteen, or when I'm eighteen -- whenever -- will you marry me?" He finished with eyes brimming almost holding his breath in fear. To say it was the most unexpected thing he could have said was to put it mildly. David did remember that moment in the cage under the torture chamber when Mac had said they could go to Canada and be legally married, but he thought it was just because they were both expecting to be enslaved forever or to die there. David looked around at the others. There was not a dry eye to be seen. Reginald's head nodded almost imperceptibly. He knew he needed this, he knew he wanted it. God, how he wanted it. Thoughts of divorce from Alice did not bother him, impediments because of Mac's minority status were not problem. Sometime, some day. "Yes," said David. Mac closed his eyes and exhaled in relief, then bent forward and kissed David on the lips. Then he did another completely unexpected thing. He leaned forward and took David's cock into his mouth and swallowed it whole! Everyone stared transfixed, but before anyone could react, Mac withdrew leaving David's cock slick and shining. He took something from his hand and slid a solid golden ring onto David's cock! Most cock rings encircle the cock and the balls, but this cock ring was really more of a 'dick ring' it was designed only to go around the cock itself. Mac pushed it all the way down. It looked nice. He handed David it's twin. David performed the same simple ceremony on Mac's black and ponderous cock. They both stood and embraced, their cocks touching now encircled by the symbol of their bondage of love. The others all stood around them and embraced the pair of them. All thoughts of the trials and tribulations to come, the press scrums, the court testimonies, the investigations into their own possible criminal liabilities -- all these things were for the moment, forgotten. "I think," said David, "this is going to be a very interesting marriage." THE END.