Game, Set and Match for Stanley Freeze

part 2

Two weeks later, I had gotten nowhere. Occasionally interrupted by quarrelsome toddlers and their parents who seemingly had lost control over their offspring by the time they'd taken their first breaths, I'd followed every trail I could find. Which was exactly one: Doug's former assistant Marcel still worked at the venue where Casper's last tournament had been held. I'd gone over only to find Marcel in the midst of disciplining two ball-boys who'd apparently screwed up earlier that day. The boys were on their knees, wrists tied to the umpire chair and stark naked, while Marcel was chastising their slender bodies with a wet towel. Both boys cried and when I got closer, I noticed to my amazement that one of the boys – higher up on his knees than his counterpart – had a tennis racket sticking out between his ass-cheeks. Their tanned skins were turning red from the lashings and they wriggled and squirmed but both twelve-year-olds had throbbing erections. When Marcel noticed me, he greeted me cordially and immediately started to reminisce about high school, so many years ago. Back then he had been a young student constantly getting into trouble, while I was a senior already displaying my great talent for punishing younger boys and getting information from them. Marcel invited me to join in with the punishment for old times' sake and I eagerly said yes, not having had 'boy-cases' in a long time. There wasn't much punishment left, as the boys' transgressions had been minor, but nevertheless Marcel produced a mean-looking reed for me to use. The gasps from the two boys were audible. To get a feel for my intended victims, I first stroked their delicate skins, feeling their bodies and gauging their response. Then I got hold of the tennis racket which was sticking out of one of the boys' ass and gently moved it up and down. The lad moaned and rocked his body to aid the movement, eventually fucking himself with the racket that I was now just holding in place. When the moans got louder and the boy started to shiver, I lashed out a couple of times. The victim yelped and shuddered violently, shooting a bit of clear fluid from his stiff little member. Meanwhile, Marcel had been unable to contain himself and was now forcing the second boy – who was eagerly complying – to suck his cock. I turned to them, stroked the boy and told him to brace himself. I lashed out, twice across the buttocks, twice in the ass crack, hitting the tender sphincter and once viciously between the lad's legs, hitting the scrotum. The cries were muffled by Marcel's cock forcing its way into the visibly expanding throat. Quickly, I got out of my slacks and boxers and roughly entered the – once again crying – boy from behind. Having been busy punishing the boys for some time, Marcel had to take it slow to avoid shooting his load. This was complicated by the fact that I had immediately established a furious rhythm, watching my white skin contrast against his tan as my dick vanished between his narrow buttocks. Every time I bottomed out, I did it with such force that the kid was pushed against Marcel, taking all his cock in his throat. Marcel was getting ever closer to orgasm and I slowed down, giving him a chance to catch his breath. Curiously, this had much the opposite effect in the boy we were impaling from both ends. After a few slow fucks, moving almost all the way out, then thrusting in slowly, getting a good feel for the narrow sphincter rubbing against my hard dick, the boy let out a muffled moan and arched his back, shooting a little cum onto the red gravel. As we had our way with the lithe frame from both ends, I seized the opportunity and asked Marcel if he had any inkling where Doug was to be found. Marcel – in the throes of ecstasy by now and clearly telling the truth – said he didn't know. He had been as amazed by the events as everyone else. He'd suspected there was something going on between the trainer and his young pupil, but Doug had never said anything to him. By his best guess, however, Doug would not feel the need to elope with his pupil and lover, as he was habitually brimming with confidence and would expect to be able to deal with anything Derringer senior could throw at him.

On the way home, I listened in on the police radio. A domestic disturbance was in progress and bored me, being the only thing going on at the time, until it suddenly changed into a gun fight. The chatter mentioned a fight between neighbors where the noisy neighbor had been gunned down by someone else. I could sympathize. I decided – on a 'gut feeling' and not mere sensationalism, seriously – to take a look but it took me over an hour to negotiate the heavy traffic across town. To my relief the police were already leaving the site and while I waited in the car halfway along the street for his chance to snoop around myself, I noticed another car that was occupied. It was parked some twenty yards in front with one occupant, motionless inside. Ten minutes later the last police vehicle drove away, causing me and the other guy to duck away as it passed us. By the time I sat up again the car in front was empty and a shadowy figure was sneaking along the walls toward the scene of the crime. When he came crawling back, he was carrying a small briefcase which he lobbed into the car before driving off, this was suspect to say the least, so I decided to follow him. He made his way straight – very sure no-one was following him, apparently – toward the amusement park at the waterfront of the main river dividing the city. Traffic had eased and the trip took no longer than thirty minutes. The man parked his car near the entrance and got out. I did the same. He quickly walked the perimeter fence toward the waterfront and then along it. Then, he suddenly disappeared near a utility cabinet. I waited a little to see if the coast was clear and if he would turn up again, but nothing. The bastard had disappeared into thin air leaving no clue whatsoever. There was nothing for it but to go home again.

I staked out the location in the following days. Once every two days, someone would park near the amusement park entrance, walk along the waterfront, and vanish. The next day, the car used to drive to the site would be gone, too. Checking the impound for the cars yielded no result, invoking the few relations I still had in the force to see if people were being reported missing came up empty, too. After about two weeks, the whole charade stopped completely: no-one drove up to the park, no-one vanished. Police still didn't know anything, newspapers reported nothing, as far as anyone but me was concerned, nothing at all was happening. Where had these people gone? Where had they come from? And why didn't anybody miss them?

I was stuck.