Game, Set and Match for Stanley Freeze

part 4

“A string of disappearances of young teen boys has been solved with the discovery of the headquarters of a boy porn ring. The ring kidnapped boys and forced them to play in hardcore movies that regular studios will not produce. The films featured scenes in which boys were repeatedly raped in both mouth and anus for up to two hours by large numbers of men. Other films dealt with semi-documentary 'hunts' in which a boy would be released in a forest with a camera and forced to run to escape his 'hunters', usually a small group of men, also equipped with cameras. The boy would be hunted down and then be 'punished' for trying to run away. Punishment usually entailed prolonged whipping and sometimes electroshocks alternated or accompanied by rape. Boys were also forced to prostitute themselves outside the legal boundaries and designated areas. Since there were less boundaries to the treatment the boys could receive, they attracted a clientele that favored a 'rougher' type of sexual activity. Repeatedly, it has been found, these meetings were filmed and the footage used to extort the clients, often men and women of influence. Rumors that the mayor herself was involved and that her extortion was covered up were vigorously denied by both the police and the mayor's office.

The headquarters was located near the river. Police refused to mention the location specifically, but it has since come to light that the site was near the fair ground, the entrance being a manhole near the water. Police claim to have found more than a thousand hours of footage, most of it (although it is still being analyzed) of a sexual and extreme nature. Police also stated that more than fifteen boys were recovered at various locations, all alive and in relatively good health, although some will likely need time to deal with their experiences. A team of psychiatrists has been assembled to help the victims and their parents.”

The newspaper article was some five years old and I remembered that the site had been closed off but never dismantled. Naturally the article featured pictures of the location and screen-caps of the videos. Although faces were blurred it was obvious that the boys were receiving a very rough treatment. Ignoring the stirring in my groin, I went out to the city archives to try and confirm a hunch.

Two hours later, I was at the waterfront and found the manhole. Among the suspects of the case, the only ones, in fact, to be cleared of all charges were both Doug Calloway and Fidel Mantanilla, the Derringer brother's respective trainers. I entered a dark corridor, damp from the nearby river and followed it for about a minute, when I reached a door. Behind it, I could hear noises: muffled moans and soft cries. If my ears didn't deceive me, there were a number of men and one or two boys there and I reckoned I knew the names of several of the participants in whatever was going on there. I knew enough and turned back. As quickly as possible, I made my way back, got in my car and sped to the head bureau of police. I had brought as much of the evidence as I could, including the newspaper article and the 'Danny' tape featuring Doug's name. Then a strange thing happened: the duty officer listened to my story and examined the (granted: circumstantial) evidence and went to fetch his superior. They both returned straight away started to assemble a team to follow me to the waterfront. As we made our way through the corridor, a familiar face approached from the other side: the very commissioner in charge of the Batista case – in his function even higher up the hierarchy. He briefly looked at me, then took the lieutenant apart and they engaged in a hushed conversation. He turned to me again: “wait here a second, Stan, I have to run this by the chief”> He disappeared down the corridor again and stayed away a good half hour. When he returned, the chief was with him and they immediately started to talk to me, trying to persuade me to give up the investigation and making it very clear that for one: no police officer was going to help me today, for another: I could make a killing by letting this go. I left.

Back outside, I got in my car and drove straight back to the waterfront, intent on busting this case myself. I entered the secret corridor made my way to the door quickly. Amazingly, there were still noises coming from the room. I banged my shoulder against the door, only to discover that it wasn't locked: I tumbled head-first into a brightly lit room. When I lifted my head, I looked straight into the growling, salivating mouth of a large dog. I yelled and scuttled back to discover that – fortunately – the beast was collared and a big security guard was holding it back. Unfortunately, the guard looked about as mean and dangerous as the dog. Curiously, the man only looked at me for a second, then stepped aside. The view made my heart skip a beat: there he was, Casper hanging from his wrists that were tied up to a contraption overhead. His ankles were tied to concrete blocks that were positioned well apart from each-other, spreading his legs and giving the two men – joined by the security guard who had hastily tied his barking dog to an iron ring protruding from the rough concrete wall – easy access to his most private body parts. The guard muttered something to the other two and they all briefly glanced at me, then directed their attention back to their young victim. The slender body was covered in narrow but fiery red welts concentrating on his chest and nipples and groinal area. I knew those welts and I knew the whips used to produce them: vicious and sharp, they left little visual evidence that soon healed if properly treated, but caused great pain. I had used them often enough on more covert missions where I would need to extract information quickly without leaving too many traces. I was therefore not surprised to see young Casper wriggle, twist and cry while the three men were lashing him. What did surprise me, however was the professional film cameras shooting the scene from three angles. Usually for a porn movie involving whipped boys (like the Danny series) employed whips that caused more visible injury and less pain for the actor involved. The whips used here meant that this would be a film for – if you will – connoisseurs who knew their implements of torture and appreciated the pain the boy was enduring without needing visual evidence. The four participants and the dog were the only living beings in the room and none of them were paying much attention to me anymore, so I ambled over to the monitors showing the three distinct images that were being recorded. The camera positioned at Casper's back showed his well-formed ass covered in the same welts as on his front.

The choreography changed: the whipping stopped for a moment, giving the whimpering cherub a little time to relax. Not much, however, as the man behind him quickly dropped his trousers and produced a big, hard member. He shuffled closer and roughly entered Casper's ass, causing the boy to let out a loud yelp. The man grabbed the narrow hips and roughly fucked in and out of the boy who was getting excited himself, hairless little dick rising and hardening fast. This was the signal the other two had been waiting for, as they started lashing out again, on the boy's nipples and erect penis. Casper yelled as he was being raped and lashed at the same time, but stayed hard. Soon the man behind him grunted and froze up. Immediately, the security guard stepped out of his trousers and took the first man's place. The fucking continued as the first guy sat back, satisfied, to watch the boy being raped and lashed by his two compatriots. Casper was moaning louder and louder now, his welt-covered member still rock hard. The guard didn't stop fucking for a second when the boy froze and shot a small amount of cum into the room. His penis went limp, so the whipper concentrated on the nipples again, slowing his pace a little as he waited for the guard to finish. When he had, the third guy took his place and roughly satisfied himself in the moaning boy's ass, taking some five minutes to groan and freeze up. The men now untied Casper's wrists and lowered him down on his knees. The guard released the dog and brought him over. They positioned the large dog over the boy and unceremoniously grabbed the protruding dick to guide it toward the boy's ass. He only whimpered softly as the dog entered him, but groaned louder when the thick knot at the base forced it's way into his rectum. This had the effect of trapping the dog, so it barked and growled, trying to release his member, eventually succeeding but immediately pushing forward again. It repeated the performance and established something of a rhythm, Casper cooperated by moving in the opposite direction. And soon the dog froze too, coming inside the exhausted boy and taking some time to release his slowly softening dick from Casper's ass.

At the same time I had the unpleasant sensation of cold, hard metal against the back of my head. The gun prodded me and I stood up and walked toward the light. At the same time, a new boy was led in. I vaguely recognized his handsome and slightly girly face from a porn movie. It was clear that this was everything I'd expected it to be: an illegal porn outfit that catered to extreme tastes falling outside even the pretty liberal norms for legal smut. What's more, they'd indeed been the ones to kidnap young Casper, no doubt to be able to produce a famous face for their flicks. I was handed a whip and a choice: if I went through with this now, there was no going back since this organization had influence all over town. I took hold of the whip and hesitated as the men tied the anxious-looking boy to the contraption overhead. His feet were left dangling free. All eyes turned to me. I still hesitated. Then I started to gently stroke the naked, flawless skin, covering all the sensitive areas. Despite his anxiety, the boy's body responded and he got a slowly stiffening erection.

I lashed out.