Date: Tue, 25 Sep 2007 15:34:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Friendly Persuasion" 03

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

"Friendly Persuasion" 03
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Where the hell are you putting all that?" Scott
questioned, as Jase woofed down his third slice of
pizza.

"Not hungry?" He questioned Scott, who hardly took two
bites out of his first slice.

"Um, nah. Must've been the big lunch I ate."

"What'd you eat?" Jase inquired.

"A bowl of rabbit food. Gotta keep the carbs low."

Smiling, Jason pretended he didn't see Scott pick up
the bottom of his tank top and take a peek of his abs.
Not until he decided to make sport of it.

"Still a big, pink spot?"

"What?" Scott asked, quickly dropping his shirt over
the scrunched up stomach.

"You're stomach my `tiny' fist bashed in, about a half
hour ago?"

"Oh, that," Scott plainly said. "It'll fine as soon as
I get back to the gym."

Having second thoughts, Jase thought he might fess up,
but then again it would provoke Scott into harassing
him again. He decided to play it cool.

"So, tell me about these guys we're meeting up with
tonight?"

With no answer, Jase turned his head, his torso
twisting, as he tried picking out whom commanded
Scott's attention, over his shoulder. "Which one?"
Jase asked, point blank, talking to a face which paid
no attention, "The brunette or the redhead?"

Without flinching a muscle, still staring, Scott
replies, "The blond."

Twisting around the other way, Jase tried looking for
the blond he missed. Now his attention was fixated on
the tall guy, leaning against the wall, chatting on
his cell, a beer in one hand. "Hot," Jason observed.

"Don't stare, you idiot!" Jase heard, from in front of
him. Connecting with his bro, he responds, "But you
were just doing the same thing, Scott!"

"Yeah, well, I'm like facing him. You, turning your
bod to get a look, makes it so obvious." After a short
pause, Scott exclaims, "Oh shit! He's coming over
here, probably ready to accuse us of being two homos,
checking him out."

"Dah, Scott, we are two homos and who cares if he
caught us checking him out!"

"Oh shit! He's bringing his buds. Probably going to
kick the shit out of us!"

"No sweat," Jase says, "Just stand up to them with
your `big' fists, bro."

"Me? You pack a good wallop. What about you?"

The trio's quick advancement stifled the two brothers.
They sighed with relief when two of them, the redhead
and the brunette cruised on by.

"Hey, guys. Mind if I join you?" The blond said,
pulling out the lowback wooden chair, taking the
liberty to invite himself, the two brothers giving a
sigh of relief. "How's the pizza?"

Scott and Jase looked at each other, then keyed their
attention on the blond, as he helped himself to their
tray of half-eaten pizza.

"First time I've been here." Then, a turnaround of
subject, wiping a hand on the thigh of his jeans,
offers, "Where are my manners?"

Scott fudges a blurb behind his hand, "Apparently at
home."

It made Jase smile, his attention still on the chewing
blond.

Letting it fly over his head, the blond announces,
"Eynon Dungarvan."

Scott got a quick handshake, but when it came Jase's
turn, Eynon wasn't too eager to let go, as Jase said,
"This here is my brother, Scott Friend. I'm Jason, but
you can call me Jase."

"Cool," Eynon replied, withdrawing his hand, when
Jase's stare made an issue out it's lingering too
long, breaking off eye contact.

"Ahem!" Scott clears his throat, being forthright, all
too eager to report what his Gaydar was thinking for
him, "You think my bro's hot, huh?"

It floored Eynon, but got an earful from Jase, as he
said louder than usual, "Scott, you asshole!"

Remorseful for his outloud thoughts, Scott just forced
a fake, pearly white smile, as he slid down in his
seat, trying to hide from onlookers.

"Hey, he's right, okay? I like was checking you out
since you two guys came in."

"So, what do you have to say to that, bro?" Scott
tried redeeming himself. "Was I right or was I right?"

"What a guy has to put up with!" Jase directed to
Eynon, but slung at Scott, "You're still an asshole!"

"You two are a panic, you know that?" Eynon said of
the two.

It served to relieve Scott of his guilt, loosening up
Jase, making the two smile, as Eynon laughed his ass
off.

"Um, bro?" Jase said, pointing to his watch, a secret
signal between both, "Um, don't you think you should
put a hustle on?"

Catching himself paying more attention to Eynon, than
his own bro, Scott replies, "Oh! Yeah, sure. But
aren't you going to help me..." He switched back, from
paying attention to Jase, his sentence fading, as he
looked to Eynon with suddeness, realizing not
everybody liked certain fetishes, like Troy and Juan,
the two college dudes they were meeting at nine.
Already, Scott got the hint that it wasn't only Eynon
getting `the hots' for his bro. "Um, help me find the
place... yeah, that's it... where they live?"

"You had plans?" the blond questioned, wise to the
fact it seemed a coverup was being played out, for his
benefit.

"Nothing Scott can't handle for himself, right bro?"

Both the eighteen and nineteen year olds looked to
Scott.

"Ah yeah. No problem, bro." Then, towards Eynon, in
particular, "New car-- forgot about the GPS," Scott
slowly told them.

Whilst the two brothers talked, Eynon taking in every
word,  also took in the last bites of the final slice
of pizza.

Right away, Eynon offers, his hand going to his back,
left pocket, "I can fork over some cash, if it's
okay?"

His wallet out, Jase's hand was there, to slap it down
on the table, Eynon's hand sandwiched in between, as
Jase generously offered, "Scott's treat. Right bro?"
Jase added a grin, all sparkling white teeth.

"Um, yeah. Sure," Scott said, staring at Jase, as if
to say, `you already offered... what am I supposed to
do?'

"Thank's Scott!" Eynon said, appreciatively, his right
hand touching Scott's hairy forearm.

With more cheer, Scott's smile and "No sweat," were
deemed not enough of a reply, since the teen's touch
fired up some vibrations, underneath the table. When
Eynon removed it, it's like Scott's pilot went out!
Knowing it would bug the hell out of Jase, Scott,
rising, offered the two, "Well, I'm going to run
along. Can't keep the `clients' waiting.... nice to
meet you Eynon." Then he tells both, directs his
comment, meant for both, but looking at his brother,
"You two lovebirds have a nice night."

Scott's smile turned into a grin, when he spotted
Jase's hand on the table, the red and white boxed
pattern, in contrast to his bro segregating his middle
finger, in a subtle hint of what he'd like Scott to go
do!

The comment did make Eynon blush a little, obvious
against his mane of blond hair and the slight fuzz on
his forearms, highlighting his attempt to grow a scant
beard, but as he watched the two visually converse, he
thought about how glad he was, letting his two buds
walk on by, himself taking the initiative to `make new
friends'.

Jason was still staring at Scott, as his older brother
paid the bill at the register. Right after, their
waiter appeared with two beers. "Compliments of the
hot... I mean of the fellow at the register," Tall,
dark and handsome said.

It's the one thing which tore Jase's attention away
from the front desk of the pizzeria. As with Eynon, he
showed a little sense of embarrassment. The wheels
turning in his head, Jase was thinking some dastardly
thoughts.

"Um, I gotta take a whiz," Eynon reports, rather
desperately, getting up from the circular table,
politely excusing himself.

The accidentally dropped hint, from the waiter, wasn't
enough for Jase to go on. The waiter, brass nametag
reading, Adrian, clued Jase into his identity. Knowing
the roundabout route, to find out certain answers, he
decided to try his luck at pursuing something Scott
was well-versed in, manuevers which would make a guy
divulge information, when the guy made it a point to
hide certain idiosyncrasies about himself.

"So Adrian,"  Jase hurried into the conversation,
before giving the tuxedoed waiter a chance, "how long
have you been a waiter here?"

Pausing, Adrian grinned, then wiped the soft smile off
his face, already ahead of the game he was about to
play, by his own rules. "Since I was about twelve. How
about you, where do you work?"

Already having his next question on tap, not expecting
the diversion, Jase stumbled over his reply, having to
`think' briefly. Contrary to what he expected to pick
from the Italian stud's mind, he had to think out his
reply hastily, making sure he didn't unload some
certain facts about himself. "Don't. At least for
now," he replied, conjuring up a reply which would
sell. "I'm still in high school. Maybe next year I'll
look for something. But..."

Both dudes looked up, upon hearing, "Nice jon you have
there. Do me a favor and relay to the boss, the
cleanliness of the facility."

"I'll do that," Adrian replied, his thin, dark stache
turning up with his smile.

Jase added, "Speaking of which, you best start
hustling, before the boss gets on your ass, for
slacking off."

Before he replied, Adrian pulled out the chair,
vacated by Scott, dropping his ass casually into the
corraled seat. At the same time, he revealed, "I doubt
it could happen."

"I strongly disagree!"

Both Adrian and Jase hurled their attention towards
the nineteen year old blond bombshell. "I beg your
pardon?" Adrian probed.

"My ex..." Eynon caught himself, "Uh, I mean, my
friend, worked at a restaurant once. He sat down once,
while on the job and his boss kicked him out of the
place, right on his ass!"

"Like I said, It's not gonna happen. You see," and
Adrian said this boldly, "I'm the `asskicker' around
here!"

As with Scott's comment, Eynon's skin turned a pretty
pink, both he and Jase, mouths dropping open. Both
their eyes zeroed in on Eynon's tall glass of cola,
Adrian picking it up and downing the contents,
sighing, "Ahhhhh," afterwards. Then, he proceeded to
get up and get back to work, with, "See you guys
around, huh?"

"Yeah," Eynon said faintly, "see ya," leaning on the
table, watching the tall, beefy Italian disappear into
the kitchen.

However, Jase folded his arms across his chest, leaned
back into his chair, relaxed, smiling, drawing a
mental picture of his brother, dressed in his
leathers, Adrian on his knees, chained like a dog,
bowing to the master's request.

"Yo, earth-to-Jase?"

Coming out of his reverie, he acknowledged Eynon,
"Huh?"

"I said, I was wondering if you want to crash at my
place?"

Looking at his wristwatch, Jase spotted the big hand
just about touching the number eight, one hour before
curfew. "Um, how `bout we go to my place?" On his mind
was the feel of his father's belt on his back, almost
as if sensing the sting of pain. Walking in after
hours, with Scott at his side would be enough of
excuse for pardon, but that would not hold creedance
with anyone else.

"Sure," Eynon replied, a tingling sensation in his
pants, with the suggestion, not mattering who's house
they wound up at.

Taking his tall glass in hand, Jase chugged his down.
Forgetting, Eynon held his brown, transparent glass in
hand, with as about as much as spit. After a few
gulps, Jase tilted his glass at the mouth of Eynon's
glass, and poured.

%

"I thought that was your car!"

"Oh shit!" Scott shouts, surprised by the police
officer, leaning over, arms stationed over the rolled
down window of Scott's 4x4.

"Oh, did I startle you?"

"What do you think, Matt, when you sneak up on a guy?"
Scott answered his question.

"Sorry `bout that," the cop, in full uniform,
apologized. "So, you waiting for a trick, Scott?"

"Two," Scott replied.

"Nice. Masters or slaveboys?"

"Neither. They aren't into roleplaying. The two have a
running bet."

"Bet, eh?" Officer Matt Boone probes for more details,
as he bends over, his six foot bod lowered to the
window ledge.

Coy, Scott barters, "You want details, it'll cost you,
Matt."

"After I let you tear a perfectly good police uniform
off my body? You know they don't come cheap?"

Having an answer for everything, Scott tells, "What
are you complaining about, Matt? It was your idea,
remember?"

"Yeah, but..." Matt tried to intervene.

"It was part of your fantasy. Remember?"

"Yeah, but..."

"You did tell me, when we chatted online, your fantasy
was to be captured by a man you arrested, sent to
prison and he was taking his revenge?"

Instead of further protests, the twenty-eight year old
police officer let his crotch sway his opinion. "Yeah,
that was some session I had with you."

Smiling, Scott inquires, "The welts go away yet?"

"Almost. I still have to be careful about not taking a
shower at the station."

But Scott had another idea as to why, suggesting, "Are
you sure it isn't because of the body shave I gave
you?"

"That, too," Matt says.

"Ass still sore from the buttplugs?"

"Somewhat. Shit, I can't believe you got that large
one up my ass."

"You mean `forced' it, Matt?"

"I have to admit. It did feel good, even though it was
excruciating."

"Oh really, Matt? Your cock wasn't complaining one
bit!"

Scott was right on the mark, filling Matt's ass
chamber with the fat tool of torture.

Scott recollects, "Yeah, I have to admit, playing the
vengeful ex-con, really got me going."

"Maybe next time you can fuck me?" Matt asks, eyes
wide, with hope.

"Like I said, the first night. That's a priviledge to
be earned."

"Um, like what do I have to do to earn it?"

The night had gotten pitch black, as the sun hit the
horizon, sinking down. In the parking lot of the town
park, maybe two pole lights lit the whole area.

If it were anybody else, Matt would have called it
`assaulting an officer', but standing there, bent
over, his eyes followed Scott's hands, reaching out
the window, unbuttoning Matt's shirt by three buttons.
"Hold it open," Scott commanded, the police officer
responding, pulling his shirt wide apart, as if Clark
Kent turning into Superman. "I know they're in here
somplace," Scott thought out loud, rummaging through
the glove compartment. "Ah, here they are." After
untangling two of the same item, he shifts around in
his seat, saying, "It never hurts to keep a few extra
on hand, for that unexpected moment."

Still grabbing the sides of his regulation police
officer's shirt, open, Matt complains, "Oh no... not
that!"

"No problem," Scott replied, coiling up the nip
clamps, hanging on each end of the chain, tossing them
back in the glove compartment, slamming it shut. "No
clamps, no fuck!"

Matt bit his lip. Being late fall, the cool of the
evening made him shiver, though he wasn't sure it the
reason for making his cock hard. "Wait a minute.
Alright," Matt broke down.

Grinning, Scott retrieved the jagged toothed clamps
from the glove compartment. "You're cock still telling
you what to do, Matt?"

Both knew the truth. Instead of answering Scott's
question, the cop asked, "So what do I have to do with
those?"

"All depends on when you want your `ex-con' to
continue `getting his revenge', Matt."

"I dunno," he said, frankly.

"I think I know what can help you make up your mind."

Taking one of the silver nip clamps, Scott holds it
between his thumb and index finger, prying open the
jaws, instructing, "There's not much pressure right
now."

"I appreciate that," Matt replies, holding his shirt
wide open, the dashboard lights illuminating the
lightly haired pecs.

"Your hair is coming back," Scott says, as he teases
Matt's left nip with the closed nip clamp, rubbing it
over and over the meaty flesh.

"Ohhhhhh," Matt exclaimed, as Scott open up the clamp,
catching Matt's nip in the jaws, then allowing the nip
clamp to `snack'.

"Feels good, don't it?" Scott asks, as Matt squints in
pain.

"You got that right!" Matt replies, humming an `mmmm',
as if tasting something good.

Reaching out the window, Scott smiles, as his hand
feels Matt wanting more of the same. "Your cock tells
me you're ready for the other one!"

With the chain hanging free, metal-toothed clamps
attached to Matt's pecs, he sighs in pleasure, this
time his own hand feeling up himself.

Scott sat there, himself getting tingly down yonder,
seeing the police shirt hang over Matt's shoulder,
open wide, the red, white and yellow lights of his
dashboard, reflecting off of the nip clamps, making
the connecting chain shimmer.

"You can button up now."

"But aren't you going to take these off?" Matt
questions.

"I thought you wanted a hot fuck, Matt?"

"Sure, but...."

"Well, until we confirm a day for the next
`kidnapping', you `will' continue to wear them."

"What?" Matt exclaimed, his hands ready to button up,
but now frozen in place. "How am I going to pull that
off? I've gotta shower at the station. I go swimming
at the gym..."

"Oh, I didn't say you couldn't take them off, did I
Matt?"

"No," Matt replied, the statement calming him.

"Then feel free to take the clamps off anytime!"

"Whew!" Matt said as if it were a hundred and ten
outside.

"Oh course, the minute you take them off-- no
kidnapping. No kidnapping, means no fuck!"

Matt just stood there, hands on the door frame, over
the opened window, whining, "Oh come on."

As that wasn't enough, Scott dictates to him, "Plus,
every night before you go to bed, you will," not a
suggestion, but a strict order, "give them both a
quarter of a turn counterclockwise."

"What?" Matt then exclaimed, as he did when advised of
the first phase of the nip torture.

Nonchalantly, as if Matt's gripe didn't make a
difference, which it didn't, Scott told him, "You
better get going. My two `maso-boys' will be getting
here soon."

Standing, Matt's six foot, one inch height brought him
a little above the roof of Scott's 4x4.

"And Matt?"

"What else?" Matt asks, with a mask of frustration.

"I really don't give a damn when you loosen the
screws, but when I rip your uniform off, I better find
no screws in the nip clamps?"

As he began buttoning up his shirt, the heavy fabric
rubbed at his pecs, stimulating his nips, clamped
tight.

"Feels great, doesn't it, Matt?" Scott asks for the
second time, with intent to humiliate.

>From his last session, the twenty-eight year old
police officer knew answering a question negatively
would amount to punishment, as the roleplaying
`ex-con' forced him into slavery. Even though his
joystick throbbed, Matt, thinking of how he was going
to wear nip clamps, going about his daily routine, he
said, in a muted voice, "Yeah. Real good." If he
wasn't being fed enough sadistic pleasure, sometimes
Matt would use a negative response to his own
advantage.

Even as he walked back to his patrol car, the chain
swayed underneath his shirt, moving back and forth,
tugging the clamps on his nips, enough to feel a
stinging sensation. However, Matt caught himself
biting his lip, when the pain shot down to his boxer
shorts.

%

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.