story codes: M/b, oral, anal, tort, sm, cons


This story is fantasy and should be treated as such!

I don't condone or encourage the actions depicted in this story whether legal or not. This story depicts sexual acts between a grown man and several young boys, if this offends you, do NOT read on.

Stanley Freeze, private investigator

part 3

I got to the house about mid-morning. It wasn't easy to miss, just easy to drive past, since every house in the suburb looked almost identical. She wasn't home, of course, so I scouted the neighborhood. With immediate success, as I saw Salvatore approach. I knew it was him because of the birth mark on his left ankle, setting him apart from his brother Chico. I jumped in the car and drove up beside him. Salvatore's instincts made him turn to my window and smile inside, his smile freezing when he saw the gun.

- “Get in.”

He obeyed and I sped off. As I knew Salvatore a little (many people did) I figured he needed special treatment and drove on to an abandoned warehouse. He sat beside me, silent, keeping his eyes on the gun with the occasional flash up to my face. He kept silent as I guided him into the huge building with the many steel structures. I picked the one I usually employed for my special cases, nothing more than four steel rods standing a few feet apart and with conveniently placed rings on them. I tied the boy's wrists to the posts, then pulled up his one ankle to tie it to the third post, then the fourth, suspending him between the posts with his arms and legs spread. Full access. He gasped as I pulled a large knife out of the bag I had brought with me. I slid it between his t-shirt and his skin at the neck, resting the cold metal on his skin, which developed goose-pimples. I cut open his t-shirt at the front, letting the remains hang from his shoulder. Then I cut his briefs from his thighs and rested the blade near his pubic bone, just sliding under the small underpants. The frightened looks and gasps from Salvatore proofed that my dramatic tactics were having effect. I looked him in the eye sternly and saw most of his opposition melt then and there. He was a frightened, sexy boy, at the mercy of a tormentor who knew his trade. He wasn't about to play games in this situation.

I finished the prelude by cutting away his underpants, exposing his intimate parts. The skin was just as delightfully colored there as everywhere else. Of course I knew this, since Salvatore had been featuring in magazines for two years now, but in real life, it still made me tingle. He gasped again and I saw why: even this abduction had made him hard. I touched his balls, rubbed between his ass cheeks found the hole and positioned two fingers. He moaned, looking at me a little bewildered, not knowing what this was about, exactly. I pushed in. Added another finger and watched him twitch and turn against his bonds. I finger fucked him for a while, then posed the question: where was Rafael. His face lit up as he finally understood what this was about. But he played stumm. Fortunately. I opened my bag again and pulled out some material: nipple clamps, three different whips and two dildos. I first said “thank you” to his frightened face, then whipped him across the chest with the first and smallest whip. He yelped and fought the restraints again. Next, the clamps, under loud protest, answered only by more whacks, this time with the second whip, consisting of three separate leather strands designed to hurt but to leave no marks. Then I moved between his legs, holding the rather large dildo in my hand, spreading his butt cheeks with the other hand. He screamed, tears in his eyes, as I penetrated his fuck hole, almost ripping it. He panted and took deep breaths to subside the pain a little, when I gave a vicious turn. Then I whipped him again, over his chest, his belly, inside his thighs, on his balls and his hard-on. He screamed, cried and sobbed under the torture. Ignoring his pleas and assurances that he would tell me everything, I took the third whip, a thicker, more vicious one and hit his ass, then his feet (they are surprisingly sensitive) and his ass again. Only then did I let him talk. He explained everything, how Chico and he had abducted Rafael to get him away from his father and to give their mother a chance to win his grace. They had held Rafael at their own house in the basement. He swore they hadn't hurt him. I released the sobbing boy, got into the car with him and drove to the house.

We entered the basement, Salvatore still naked, sobbing and covered in red marks on his smooth skin. Chico immediately understood what had happened, that the game was over and that all he could do was cooperate. He opened the door for us and all three of us entered the prison room. There he was, Rafael. I'd forgotten that Mr. S. was Asian, so Rafael was of mixed blood. He lay there on the special table, naked, his olive skin flawless and perfect, his dark hair cut just above the base of his skull, sporting an erection caused by the dildo that was automatically pumping up and down his rectum. He flashed a happy smile, as much to me as to the twins, his dark eyes shining. I informed him that I was there to take him home and he smiled some more. He let me untie him, only then removing the dildo from his rectum. The three boys hugged, stroking each-others' bum-holes. Then they turned to me:

- “Mister Freeze, I don't want to go back! My father doesn't care for me and Chico just told me about my mother. I have become close to Chico and Salvatore, but I can't stay here, either. Can I stay with you?”

With a very naughty look, Chico and Salvatore simultaneously added:

- “He'll make it worth your while, sir, and so will we!”

What a prospect! I just needed to know if Mr. S wouldn't mind, but the boys convinced me that Maria could take care of that. No obstacles left, there was nothing left for me but to agree. The boy quickly fitted himself with some sexy briefs provided by the twins and jumped in the car. On the way home he insisted he needed a strict regime to keep him straight and happy. I indicated I would be happy to comply.

As we got home, I heard a message in the answering machine that informed me that Carmen, Rafael's mother had been involved with Battista R.'s gang and had probably been murdered because of some old problem. A month later the headlines of the newspaper read that Mr. S. had been forced to pay a handsome amount to a trust fund for Carmen's legacy. The moment I read that, the door opened almost apologetically and in strode a tall, slender woman with black hair. She hugged her son who just came in, naked with the whips we'd used the previous night. She smiled at both of us and said she was happy to see her son taken care of. Rafael and me took holidays to exotic places, and his mother, every month after that.