Date: Thu, 16 Aug 2018 14:49:00 +0000 From: THOMAS HUTCHINSON Subject: 9th Chapter of Timothy If you enjoyed this story and if you can afford to, please send a donation to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Help keep the flame of freedom burning. Chapter Nine--Timothy Goes to the State Capitol by T. Edward Hutchinson Mrs. Donovan is not happy about her eighteen year old son, Timothy, moving to the state capitol for a new job that doesn't seem to her to be any sort of real advancement. He will still be a personal assistant, whatever that means. Timmy looks no more than fifteen or sixteen and has no experience living in a big city, much less on his own. That he will have a room in the apartment of his new boss is not in any way soothing to her. Only recently she weaned the boy from a relationship with an older man and at least he was a neighbor. Timmy is uncharacteristically adamant and gives no reason for being so. "Mom, I'm going," he insists. But the boy is an adult, she no longer has the power to stop him, nor apparently the influence. Whatever vague thoughts the youngster might have had about getting over his addiction to pain pills and leaving the company were erased forever by witnessing the trashing dealt out to a graduate student at the university who got in the organization's way. He acutely remembers Jeff's screams as his legs were broken by two thugs. The day after Timothy's eighteenth birthday a Mr. Joyce arrives early in the morning on foot to drive the teen to his new assignment in the car Tim had been using but belonged to his friend Mick who is a junior at the state university. Tim's mother finds all this very confusing, that and the fact that Tim is dressed in what had been his best school clothes and takes so little with him, a backpack and one rolling suitcase. "Bye Mom, I'll call," and he is gone. Once they are underway, Mr. Joyce briefs Tim. "Your new boss's name is Mr. Tsvetkov, but I'm delivering you to Mr. Lippi who is his chief adviser. For those of us working here, it's considered an honor just to meet Mr. Lippi. We're going to the headquarters building. It's in one of the neighborhoods and doesn't look like much, a three story brick with a law firm on the top floor. Don't let that fool you, the organization doesn't like to call attention to itself, but this place is where plans and decisions are made that affect the state and the whole region." They stop for a fast food lunch and arrive at the organization office mid afternoon. Mr. Joyce has some difficulty finding a parking place. They circle the block then one more street away before finding one on the opposite side so have to get turned around to use it. Still it's a short walk to the building. They enter a foyer with stairs leading to the upper floors and unmarked doors to the left and right. But the left hand one has a bell that Mr. Joyce presses. The door is opened. "Timothy Donovan to see Mr. Lippi," Mr. Joyce tells the man." "Wait here." The door is closed. Three minutes later the man reappears and hands Mr. Joyce an envelope. "Thanks for the delivery," he says. The man waits for the delivery man to figure out that he's done his job and should go. Once Mr. Joyce has closed the outside door the inner door is opened wider. "This way boy," he instructs. The first room is quite large with an obvious waiting area just inside, a leather couch and arm chairs, a table with magazines of interest to men; sports, hunting and fishing, cars, horses, boats. "Wait here," the man repeats. "Yes sir." Timothy sets his luggage at the side of the sofa and reaches for a baseball publication. "You like sports I see," a tall, thin man observes. "Yes sir." "I'll be sure to mention it to Vad, he'll like that. I'm Al Lippi and I'll be taking you over to the apartment." Yes sir." "And a man of few words." "I can be real chatty if that is wanted, sir." Mr. Lippi nods and smiles, "Very good Timmy, I'll mention that as well. Grab your things and let's go, the car's out front." The car is a black sedan of a make unfamiliar to Tim and there is a driver. They talk sports on the way and the teenager proves himself to be chatty. There is security at the entrance to the building, a man behind a thick glass window with a hole in it. Mr. Lippi introduces Mr. Tsvetkov's new personal assistant to the guard. "Timothy will be residing in the apartment." The fellow comes out from his cubicle with a camera and takes a picture of Tim for the guards to use until they become used to his comings and goings. Mr. Lippi then shows the eighteen year old the way up to the top floor. "The organization owns the building, Timmy," he is informed. Mr. Lippi uses his key and ushers the teenager inside. "Quite often you will be the only one here. Vad, your boss, has a home back in the neighborhood of the office. Family entertaining takes place there. It's a bit of a mad house, a three decker with his oldest son's family on the top floor and a daughter's on the second, lots of grandchildren. So business entertaining takes place here." "Come this way and bring your stuff." Mr. Lippi shows the youngster to his bedroom. "You have your own bathroom, tv, laptop, and your own phone, a separate line with an answering machine. Here's your key to the apartment. Your new handler is Mr. Tsvetkov's son Gregory, he will be along in an hour or so. Get settled, have a look around the place, call your mother. Ten minutes only, if it's difficult to end the call just say you have something to do for your boss. You may make a short call to her once a week, ten minutes. She has to understand you are gown up now and have responsibilities. Once we're sure she understands we will allow a little more contact, on holidays and the like." "Yes sir." "Good boy," Mr. Lippi smiles and gives the youth a pat on the shoulder. Timothy is looking at the spectacular view from the living room when someone enters the apartment. "Anyone home?" the new arrival shouts. "Yes sir," Tim calls back as he moves toward the entrance hall. Before he can get there a kid appears at the opening to the room. This youth has dark brown hair and eyes is about five foot nine and well built. "You must be Timmy," the guy presumes aloud. "I'm Greg." That his new handler is so young surprises Timothy and he looks it. Greg laughs, "They didn't tell you we're the same age did they?" "No sir." "I'd like to tell you not to sir me, but I can't. This my first handler assignment, I don't want to screw it up. Man, look at you, dad sure can pick 'em." Greg reaches both hands toward Timothy's face. Tim moves forward into them so Greg's palms are on his cheeks. "I guess if I'm your handler I should handle you huh?" "Yes sir, if you want to sir." Greg kisses him lightly on the lips. "I can't have sex with you. Not that I'm not allowed, but it would seem like incest by proxy to me. I can play with you though as long as I don't make you come. Oh, yeah, before I forget, you are not to masturbate ever. Dad thinks horny boys are more fun so when he comes to you in the middle of the night he expects to find you hot as a pistol." "Yes sir, I understand." "I like boys and girls about equally. Dad, I don't know, he has women here sometimes, girls now and then, he might bring in another boy, he has a really big appetite." Greg strokes Tim's upper lip, cheeks and chin. "Wow, the laser hair removal treatments really work. Do they leave you with a rash?" "For a week or so, sir." "Do they do your balls?" "Yes sir." "Show me." Tim's hands go to his belt. "I'm kidding, we'll do that another time," he grins. "We will be continuing the hair removal stuff. I'll show you how to get there. I'll be showing you around the capitol anyway." "There's going to be lots of new training for you. We haven't decided about BDSM training. I say 'we' but I mean the organization and around here that's mostly dad, but others get to advise. Anyway 'we' think you have maybe had enough of that for a while. When dad has business meetings here, I used to help out with hosting, mixing drinks, handing around canapes, dealing with coats and hats. I'm going to college in the fall, so you are my replacement. I'll train you for that work. Oh yeah, and making breakfast for dad and anyone else who stays overnight. A large group for breakfast would be catered, but you would show the caterers where to set up. I'm telling you too much at once I can tell. Don't worry we'll go over everything again, and again, and again." Another of Greg's grins, "We've got all summer." "Right now we need to go out and have dinner. There's a nice Greek restaurant near by." Settled at their table Greg orders for both of them. Timothy follows along with the menu so he has some idea what he will be eating. "You get one glass of wine, sip it. Drink plenty of water beforehand and during. They know us here so there are no questions about our ages. The men who come to the apartment are used to being served by a member of the family. We are going to pass you off as my cousin, the adopted child of my father's unmarried sister who wanted a kid to raise. You were given up for adoption at birth. That's why we all have the same last name. Tomorrow we are going shopping. I'm buying my college kit and I will select clothes for you so you look like one of us. Do you have any money in your wallet?" "I keep my ID and money in my pocket, sir." "Don't sir me in public, older guys yes, dad, Al, but we're too close in age it would seem weird and call attention to ourselves." "Sorry. I have about twenty dollars." "The company is paying for your outfit, but you should have more than that in case of an emergency or if you and dad are out somewhere and he wants some cash you can give it to him. I'll add a wallet to my list of things you need. Meanwhile put these bills in your pocket." Tim takes the four fifties and stuffs them in with his cash. "In public just call me Greg." "OK Greg." "We're two cousins enjoying the evening." "Yeah." When the boys get back to the apartment building, Greg tells Tim to take the lead. He watches as Timothy negotiates the security booth, the elevator and uses his key to enter. "Have you seen dad's dungeon yet?" No sir." "This way," his handler points, "It's a large room right in the middle of the apartment, no windows." The locked door opens off of the bar and game room. "Your key won't work for any of the locked doors, or drawers, or cabinets," Greg notes on opening up and flicking a light switch. Tim can see at a glance that the room is less well equipped than the dungeon of his former trainer, Mr. Rhodes. It has all the essential furnishings though and lots of devices hanging on the walls for a person to look at while waiting for his discipline. Greg takes Timothy on a tour of the apartment. In the kitchen he opens the stocked refrigerator and cabinets. "You can eat and drink whatever you want unless a container is marked 'save for' and a date. There is a media room with a huge TV and leather chairs for a small audience, cabinets full of DVDs and music CDs. Six bedrooms like Tim's each with their own bath, a master bedroom with a separate dressing room, obviously lived in, an exercise room with a hot tub and sauna, a large and a small dining room, several locked doors they don't explore, one of them near the front and pointed out as Mr. Tsvetkov's office. The teenagers return to the media room. Greg hands Timothy a photo album. "Pictures of dad, study this while I find us a movie." There are a few formal portraits, some that look like news photos and loads of candid shots solo or with other people. His new boss and master, Tim thinks, the guy he is going to be intimate with. He looks like his son, thicker in the waist but not fat. He is smiling in the candids, a good sign. "Dad's a couple of inches taller than me," Greg says,"He's fifty seven now. Sometimes he's going to want you to get him turned on. If he tells you to approach him you should act like you really want him to have sex with you. You come on to him, take the initiative, get him warmed up. Like this." Greg commences to snuggle up with Tim on the couch, hands roving over his chest, kissing his cheek. "OK, I'm dad you try it." "Yes sir." He begins to make out with his boss's son. "That's the idea, you don't wait for him to do stuff. He'll tell you if he doesn't want something." Greg starts the movie. In the kitchen the boys heat up a pizza from the freezer. Greg has a beer, Tim an orange soda. "Once in a while there will be other guys we want you to please, dates like you have done before." "Yes sir." "That won't start right away and probably won't happen very often anyway. But there are gentlemen we need special favors from who may be persuaded in part with your help." "Yes sir." "Well, time for bed. I'm sleeping with you tonight. We have a little more training to do. By the way, you sleep nude, always." "Yes sir." "Help me clean up here. That's something you will get to do fairly often." "Showers, you go first," Greg tells the youngster. "Always put dirty clothes in the hamper in the bathroom and hang up everything else. Dad hates a messy room. So don't leave stuff out on the desk, or books strewn about. One thing I'm looking forward to at college is to be a more relaxed about that sort of thing. I don't want to be a slob, but not so rigid." When Tim is almost ready for his shower Greg enters the bathroom first and opens the medicine cabinet. "Your Oxycontin is here, the bottle says how much you can have. Also there's some meth that you only take if you are told to." "Excuse me sir, meth?" "Methamphetamine, you've had it before, maybe they called it something else." "Pep pills?" "That would fit. And there's a bottle of tequila and a shot glass in the large bottom desk drawer. Same deal, only when someone tells you to have it." "Yes sir." Greg keeps talking to Tim while he's taking his shower. "If dad gets into your bed and doesn't do anything, that means he wants you to warm him up. Know what I mean?" "Yes sir." "Always take a shower before bed and always blow dry your hair. I don't know about the nipple clips, I'll find out. I don't want them so don't put them back on tonight." "Yes sir." All dry, Tim returns to the bedroom. Greg is sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers waiting his turn. "Over here," he says, "I want to check out these hairless balls." Timothy presents himself and Greg handles him gently. "Cool," Greg says what about your pits?" Tim raises and arm, "They left some, sir, sort of thinned it. It wouldn't make sense for there to be none if I have a bush, they said." Greg passes his hand over one of the boy's smooth legs. "Mmm, nice. Well, get under the covers. When I join you pretend I'm dad and show me what you can do." "Yes sir. Greg puts the light out in the bedroom and leaves to take his shower, closing the bathroom door. ***** The next few days are devoted to clothes shopping, for Greg an ivy league college look, for Timothy a preppy look. Tim also starts bartender training, beginning with those Mr. Tsvetkov prefers. They take a break for a quick light lunch out. On the way back Greg tells Tim that his father will be at the apartment. Just as well he didn't have any more time to get nervous about it, Timothy decides. Mr. Tsvetkov is in an arm chair by a window in the over sized living room. "Dad this is Timothy," his son announced. "I'll see you guys later. I've got some more shopping to do," Greg maintains on his way out. As trained, the eighteen year old does not hesitate to close the distance between them. The man opens his arms and the boy settles himself into the gentleman's lap immediately snuggling into him. "Hello Timmy," he says and gives the youngster an open mouth kiss that Tim returns with fervor wrapping his arms around the man's neck. Tim is rewarded with a firm embrace. The kiss, a duel of tongues, is significantly prolonged. Tim is not about to be the one to quit. His boss puts both hands on Timothy's face and pushes him back, looks at him quizzically and says, "OK, you're hired." Then they did it again. "Well, I only stopped by to say hello," Greg's dad finally manages. "I'll be back this evening or tonight sometime. I don't know when I'll be able to get away. Don't stay up waiting. I'll find you." Timothy doesn't know what time Mr. Tsvetkov arrives, but it is late. The gentleman wakes him up, gives him a pep pill and a shot of liquor. Timothy gets fucked vigorously and then examined slowly and thoroughly. When the man is done with that and lies back, Tim begins a gentle massage the way a police officer once did for him, first with the hands and then with the mouth and tongue. Mr. Tsvetkov gets up, has a quick wash of his genitals and lies back down for Tim to suck. The man falls asleep after his orgasm. Tim is wide awake for a couple of hours until he too sleeps. The boy wakens mid morning alone in the bed. In the following few weeks Timothy has bartender training and a chef comes in two mornings a week to instruct him in the preparation and serving of breakfast and luncheon meals for two to four persons. Tim learns how to go about ordering and receiving deliveries of supplies and shops in the area as much as he can. Of course he can do light suppers just as well. Together Tim and Greg serve at several small gatherings at the apartment, some business some parties. They are partially or fully catered. Mr. Tsvetkov sleeps at the apartment three to four times a week. In his own bedroom for a quickie and in Tim's if they are going to make a night of it. The boss has women over a few times. Tim prepares breakfast for the them. ***** When Greg is about to depart for college both boys are surprised that Mr. Tsvetkov will be Timothy's new handler. Greg's dad doesn't want a junior level employee having access to the apartment. Days when Mr. Tsvetkov isn't planning on coming to the apartment Tim will be required to go to the organization's office in the neighborhood and report to a Mr. Karp. Perhaps Greg will resume the duty during his summer vacation. A month after Greg has left at about eight pm Mr. Tsvetkov enters the apartment with two other gentlemen. He tells Timothy to go to his room, get undressed and wait for him there. Fifteen minutes later the boss, who is now wearing a black smock over his clothes, comes for Tim and leads him to the dungeon. In the dimly lit space the teenager sees the the other two gentlemen similarly garbed. Mr. Tsvetkov leads Tim to a metal cage in a far corner. When he is close enough the youngster sees that the small cage is already occupied. From the smell Tim knows that the person stuffed into the cramped space has been there for at least a day. It could have been done when Tim was sleeping or away on some errand. Mr. Tsvetkov opens a padlock, raises a bar and swings open one whole side of the cage. "Come out of there boy," he commands. The kid shifts a little and looks at the nude teenager and the figure in black. He does not seem anxious to leave in spite of how cramped up he must be. Gradually the boy begins to inch his way out. The boss directs the other two men, "haul him out." They do so quickly and roughly. The kid now lying on the tile floor works at sitting up. It takes him a minute to get there. Tim can now see that the boy is about fifteen, has shaggy, dirty blond hair and pale blue/grey eyes. His grubby clothes suggest that he has been living on the street. His complexion is fair, a few blemishes, his features regular and ordinary. "Take your clothes off," Mr. Tsvetkov orders. The fifteen year old seems disoriented as though he doesn't know how it has come to pass that he is in this place with three men in black and a naked boy not much older than himself. Aside from looking about and looking confused, he does nothing. "Put him on his feet," Mr. Tsvetkov instructs the gentlemen. Each grabs one of the boy's arms and stand him up. The boss selects a heavy wooden paddle with pairs of holes running its business end. He shows it to the youngster. "The other boy is a good boy, he took his clothes off. You are a bad boy and I will punish you with this paddle, five strokes." He connects with the boy's backside using enough force to produce a distinct thwack. The bad boy shouts, "Ahhh!" The very well soundproofed room will not leak much louder screams. The man allows ample time for the youngster to contemplate his pain before landing each of the remaining four with the same degree of effort. At a nod the men holding the kid let go and he sinks to the floor. "Take your clothes off." "I don't want to be here, let me go," the youngster insists. Timothy notices that the kid has a tongue piercing. "You said you'd do anything for a hundred dollars. Now you're going to." "I didn't mean all this," the teen hustler waves a hand at all the BDSM paraphernalia. "Stand him up again," Mr. Tsvetkov requests of his assistants. The man delivers another five swats to the boy's butt. Back on the floor, a few tears escape his eyes. "Take your clothes off." Slowly the boy pulls his sweat shirt up from the bottom. Small, cheap, black tattoos on arms and back are revealed as the young hustler strips. When he is naked the two gentlemen assisting Mr. Tsvetkov get the youth onto his feet and position him between two temporary metal posts about eight feet apart and replete with eye rings. They fix leather cuffs to the boy's wrists while the boss buckles on a collar. The cuffs are attached by chain to the posts. The hustler's ankles are secured with cuff links. One man pinches the kid's nose. When he opens his mouth to breathe the second man forces in a perforated, white plastic ball gag, not for noise but to prevent the youngster from trying to bite anyone. Mr. Tsvetlov puts a finger into the left side of the boy's mouth and inserts a white pill between cheek and gum. Another pill goes into the right cheek. "Meth," he tells the kid, "to keep you awake and alert. This is no fun if you're passed out." Among the items hanging on the wall of the dungeon is a stainless steel object that looks like a giant fish hook except with a one inch ball on the business end. Mr. Tsvetlov selects that object and shows it to the boy. "This is a butt hook. I'm going to stick this into you and haul you up with it." He gets Timothy's attention and tells him to collect the kid's clothes, bring them to the dungeon's toilet facility, put the clothing on the counter and bring back a tube of lubrication he will find there. When Tim returns the boss requires him to lube the ball on the hook and the boy's anus. "OK, now return the lube, clean off your hands and bring back the glass jar on the counter. "Hold the jar under the kid's dick," Mr. Tsvetlov commands Tim, then to the boy, "Piss in the jar." When nothing happens he faces the kid with the paddle and explains that without his pants the holes in the paddle will blister his bottom and hit again will probably bleed. The boy nods so the boss waits long enough for the kid to get his steam started. Then Tim is directed to empty the urine in the latrine and rinse the jar. The boss shoves the ball of the butt hook into the youngster. A chain through a pulley on the ceiling and looped to a post is detached by Mr. Tsvetlov and he attaches the hook to one end of the chain. The boss pulls the free end of the chain taking up the slack. The kid's leather collar is also fixed to the chain so that the chain is tight to he boy's backbone. The two assistants pull the boy up so that his feet are six inches off the floor. The butt hook keeps the boy from being strangled. The free end of the chain is fastened to one of the poles. The boss speaks to his associates thanking them for their help. "Take a couple of hours off in the media room. Help yourselves to whatever you would like from the bar. Tim, play with his dick and see if you can give this kid an erection." Mr. Tsvetlov puts the paddle back on the wall and selects a Canadian leather strap, eighteen inches of thick leather beyond the handle, three inches wide with three small holes in sets one inch apart. It has a slight bend when held parallel to level. He shows it to the hanging boy. "If I used the paddle on bones it could break or chip them, but this I can use anywhere." He is glad to see that Timothy has been able to get the kid hard and slips on a cock ring to keep it that way. "Come here Timmy, I want to show you how to do this." They are standing behind the hanging youth. "I want to strike the upper thighs just below the buttocks. I place the tip of the strap at the end of the target area so there will be no overlap then take my hitting stance. I bring the strap back and gently strike to be sure that the blow will land as I want it to. I adjust my stance if necessary and test again. When it checks out I can begin my blows. Watch." Mr. Tsvetlov delivers five solid blows to the hustler's thighs producing a few small cuts and a little bleeding. "OK, now you do the next section down," the boss hands Timothy the strap. Timothy is shocked. He had expected that things would be done to him, not that he would be required to assist with someone else being bound and disciplined. His feelings rebel at having to administer punishment. Obviously this is yet another kind of training he is expected to endure, training of a variety he had not imagined possible. Tim stiffens himself and gets on with it. Mr. Tsvetkov, on the other hand, is very pleased to watch one naked boy beat another. Together they thrash the hanging boy's back and legs. They turn their attention to the boy's arms and shoulders. The boss shows Tim how to position the strap so only the tip makes contact and to deliver the blows overhand. "A rest break," Mr. Tsvetkov announces.