Date: Thu, 1 Apr 2010 14:02:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lucrative Mining Operation 02

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,
of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages,
neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy
sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not
read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most
states 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.

Lucrative Mining Operation 02
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Like... what are you going to do to me?" Terence's bound captive
questioned, shivering, not from the coolness of the cavern room, but being
scared out of his gourd.

At first, Terence stood there, hands on his torso, he himself wondering how
to handle this client's request. For the others, it made matters a little
simpler. to himself, Terence was asking, 'How do you take the 'gay' out of
a guy?' Too, he had captives who were very scared of their own welfare, but
none were an eighteen year old, and none like Seth Hollister, with an
appearance of more youth than maturity. He approached Seth and seeing the
fear in the teen's eyes, turned and walked away. He made like he was
looking through the whips for a certain one, but the only thing he could
thing of is the shirtless teen, bound with arms out from his sides.  When
those who's task it was was to capture, deliver and set the client's victim
up in the dungeons, asked Terence how he would like to find his subject,
Terence saying 'shirtless'. As it went then, he wasn't sure of how he was
going to handle things.

"Please don't hurt me, mister?"

He doesn't remember how many times he has heard the same plea, turning his
back to past captives, but this time, instead of feeling 'no reaction', it
only made it tougher for Terence, especially when Seth accompanied his plea
with a pouty attitude. He was sure he was going to turn around and the
eighteen year old would be in tears. Choosing a plain leather strap off the
rack, Terence returned to where Seth stood, but his upper half remaining
immobile.

The closer he came, the more Seth pay attention to what was in Terrence's
hands. "No. C'mon mister... I.. I can't help it if I'm gay. I was born like
this and can't help it if I like guys."

Finally Terrence stopped his slow dirge, till he stood about a foot in
front of Seth.

Then, after looking at Terrence's hands, Seth's eyes slowly traveled up his
abs, to his hairy chest, then neck and coming to a standstill as he stare
deeply into his eyes. "Please don't whip me, mister. I can't, like take
pain."

Terrence then discovered a way out of all this, means by which he could
spare Seth a whipping. As he would do with any other guy, reinforce the
torturing, he turned the handle of the leather strap upright and as he
spoke, touched the end of the handle to the victim's chest, allowing it to
slip downwards.

In Seth's case, it coasted down between his smooth pecs, followed the
slight treasure trail path, ran right over his bellyhole and then rested
where his darker trail was covered by the belt buckle of his jeans, the
handle of the whip 'resting'. For Terence, it worked, Seth's sweat
building, his bod shaking and sniveling, "Please don't hurt me!"

"It would be very simple for you to stop me?"

For a moment, Seth forgot about the whip. "Stop you? I wouldn't be able to
do that. I mean, there's no way I can get out of these ropes," Seth glances
side to side, continuing with his immediate thoughts, " and there's no way
you're going to make me stop being gay."

For Terence it remained a set back. His key card was precisely one of the
issues Seth was disputing. Still, he figured it a good try. But he still
had one ace up his sleeve as he proposed, "All you have to do is 'tell' me
you're 'not' gay."

"I told you..."

"No," putting pressure on the handle of the whip, jabbing it a little into
Seth's lower abs, "think about what I said. No matter what you believe,
'tell' me you're not gay."

Seth wasn't getting it, telling him right off, "Y'know, some bullies at
school tried to do the same thing you are doing and as much as I don't want
to be a martyr, I feel it's the right thing to stand up for myself!"

Seth's own words must have done something for himself, causing Terence to
really think it over. Perhaps, he thought, maybe a small amount of pressure
might make the eighteen year old see it his way. So, even though he wasn't
feeling it, contrary to how he ever felt about any client's victim, he
walks around to viewing Seth's back, saying, "Okay. If that's the way you
want it."

"Oh my God!" he heard Seth say in almost a whisper, clutching at the ropes
which stretched his bod out, tied to left and right columns, realizing the
consequences forthcoming.

In reality, Terence didn't want to hurt Seth. From the front he looked like
an innocent angel. Mostly smooth, except for a trail which originated out
of the middle of his chest, then got darker, more grown in as it passed
over the indentation in his stomach, Terence thought the bod kind of
hot. He was nice looking from the neck up, with dark hair, a color of which
he could not be certain of, from the dark chamber; dark brown or black. But
it was bushy and as he stood at Seth's back, he could see it cut off just
above where the collar of his shirt would fall. Like the front of his bod,
his back was as wet with sweat. Using his hand, he felt the smoothness of
his shoulder blades, like that of a newborn babie's ass. Momentarily,
Terrence forgot he didn't have a shirt on himself and went to use his
'shirt' for a cloth to wipe it off, mixing their sweat together on the side
of his stomach. He held his hand up, looking at it. For some very strange
reason, one
 he couldn't pin down, it felt kind of erotic!

"Can't you just let me go? Nobody would know. C'mon mister. You were a
teenager once. You must've had something you believed in that your dad
didn't like you to be involved in?"

It was so damned tough for Terence, as he stood there with strong
hesitation of scarring up this youth's back. Thinking of Seth's words,
there was a time, in his own teenhood when he was tested for believing he
was gay. And what was most disturbing, he had been in almost the same
predicament as Seth, only it was a bunch of guys confronting him and not
one single person whom was putting pressure on his life. Sure, he was held
by a guy on each side, the leader in front of him, ready to punch and kick
him and as he dwell on the subject, but more he thought of how much a
coward he was, compared to this eighteen year old high school graduate,
sticking to his guns. At the time, he gave up on his beliefs to save
himself from a horrific beating. Now, as he held the strap in his hand, he
felt himself more admiring Seth, putting himself down. He looked up from
the ground, clearing his thinking. Seth wasn't saying anything, his head
bowed, resigning to his fate
 most likely. So, instead of laying the leather on Seth's back, he reached
around the sides of his bod, passing the belt of hand to hand over Seth's
stomach, then holding both ends.

"What are you doing?" Seth asks in the same troubling vocal manner.

Using the belt as a fulcrum, he launches himself closer to the teen, his
stomach touching Seth's back. Closing up the gap between them, he says in
Seth's ear, "Regardless of anything you believe, it is my job to hear only
three words from your lips."

As for Seth, he was thinking of what information his captor was trying to
derive from him, but too, Terrence's bod touching his skin was making him
sweat more so.

Reinforcing things, Terrence reiterates, "It is my job to fulfill the
client's wishes. All I need to do is pick up the phone and relay back to
your father what you have told me. All I need to hear are three little
words, 'I am not gay'."

He was a well educated student at school and even though things were like
walking on broken glass, he notes, "Um, that's four words, mister."

Seth wasn't the only one, feeling 'something'. The more Terence stay glued
to the eighteen year old, the more attached he became, not wanting to
separate himself from the eighteen year old. He could smell the two of
them, picking up an unusual scent, foreign to scent his own bod would give
off when he got sweaty. This time, as he leaned in to coax his captive,
Terence's rough beard scraped the side of Seth's face near his ear,
"Whatever I am asking, I don't give a damn how good you are in math, I want
to hear 'anything' you tell me which would convince your father you are not
gay."

"But I can't... I..."

Cutting in, Terence says, "Regardless of your actual feelings."

While Seth was thinking, he couldn't keep his brain entirely on subject. He
could have sworn he felt something poking him in the back of the jeans, but
he discounted it as, 'Nah, he can't be gay... he's telling me I shouldn't
be!' Another strange thing, he also felt the front of his jeans,
'disturbed', and glancing down, his suspicions were correct, his jeans
bulging out from his bod. So much, he could see the pouch under his belt,
bulking up his jeans. Thinking he was getting what the man behind his back
was telling him, Seth replies, "Um, so what you're telling me is to 'lie'
to you?" It seemed that's what he was saying to Seth!

And Terence corrected himself, "Four little words. It's all it takes to
keep me from turning to drastic measures."

But first Seth wanted some answers himself, turning his head, which placed
the side of his face in Terence's face. Audaciously he commands, "You go
first!" Now this could have gone in several directions, but Seth, who never
really believed in gaydar, swore it was working. Two things were setting
off the alarm, which he sensed both in front and back. When Terrence didn't
answer fast enough, it was like, 'who's owning who', Seth almost in demand,
"Well?" he looked over his shoulder again. Then turning back, allowed his
head to falter, almost touching his teen chest. He gave in, certain he was
in error and was ready to be whipped. At least it's how it felt, his
tormentor releasing his grip, the belt uncoiling from around his
stomach. He braced himself for a beating as he felt the cool air on his
back.

"All I wanted to hear are those 'four' words."

Seth tensed up, drew his breath in rapidly when he felt the leather whip
touching, trailing down his back. Taken away, he really felt this was it,
gasping, "Oh-h shit!"

%

Rules were made to be broken and since Ali was an ace at doing so, he found
himself softly calling outside Judson's door, "Jud! Open up!"

"I thought it was you. What do you want? I'm awfully busy here, you know?"

"I know," he tried to get a look inside. "Me too!"

Folding his arms over his six pack, Judson says, "Listen, you got two guys
in there. Don't tell me you're finished torturing both?" And jumping the
gun, "It's your tough luck if you worked them over so quick, Ali and it's
for sure you're not going to score with 'my' boy!"

"No...no, no, you've got me all wrong. I was only thinking of you and the
other cop."

Sometimes Ali didn't make sense and right now was one of the times, Judson
replying, "Oh? How's that go?"

"The other cop. The one I didn't use his ass yet. He has nice abs. I think
maybe you like to play with him?"

And knowing there had to be something in the deal for Ali, Judson
questions, "In return for?"

"Maybe I fuck your boy, then it's okay?"

"Nah. Not possible. I'm working his ass with some toys right now. Probably
wouldn't be a tight squeeze, even though you're well endowed?"

"You ruin nice tight ass for me?"

Laughing, Judson relaxes his stance, placing a hand on his hip, reports, as
his tosses his thumb over his shoulder, behind him where Billy's wrists and
neck are bound to stocks, bent over in a necessary position for the torture
Judson is subjecting him to. "Trust me. It wouldn't be the first time Billy
has had a dildo, buttplug or fist(?) up his ass!"

Still, the description has Ali keyed up, him reaching down to fondle
himself.

"But I guess I could leave a nice fat buttplug babysitting him, if you have
a nice set of hard abs to bust?" Judson replies. "Just hold on a
sec. This'll take a minute."

It got Ali inside of Judson's torture chamber and in no time he had his
cock in stroking order.

"See what I mean?" Judson says, inserting a large buttplug in with not much
effort required.

Still Billy groaned, the twenty-four year old at first trying to escape and
then surrendering to the black toy.

"What did I tell you?" Judson confronts Ali.

Ali, a cunning smile on his face, same showing with the inflection of his
voice, "And what other toys does he like?"

"That's yet to be determined. I'm taking it slow. In awhile I'll start on
his balls and then branch out to his nips."

By this time, Ali was totally engrossed in both what was happening to Billy
and Judson's words of impending torture. He poses the question, "You think
maybe 'I' fit in next to buttplug?"

"Only one way to find out. And while you're working Billy's ass maybe I'll
see if your cop has punch-proof abs!"

Rubbing his hands together, probably a little slimed from his precum, Ali
walks towards Billy's ass, where the flat end of the buttplug hangs out.

Near the exit of his private chamber, Judson says, "And Ali?"

"Yes-s?" He answers with a little lisp at the end.

"You touch his balls and I'll 'more' than 'touch' yours!"

Ali signified he didn't wish to feel Judson's big hands on his privates.

Bending down, Judson took the little wooden wedge out from propping the
door to Ali's torture chamber. He was more than astounded of what he saw,
the 'other' cop Ali spoke of, standing there. Of course, with his arms
stretched up and overhead, hanging by leather cuffs, attached to a chain,
it was tough telling how tall he was, but Judson was eyeballing Clyde's
height to be a little over six feet. He glanced to the side as he
approached his target, saying of the cop's partner, "Looks like somebody's
been having some fun?"

Unlike Clyde's condition, it looked like Ali hadn't laid a hand on him. As
for Peter, strung up much like his partner, but had welts on his back,
chest and stomach. Attached to his nips were alligator clamps, a connecting
chain hanging in a 'V' as a result of weight placed in the middle. Judson
did comment, "Nice," seeing Peter's balls sagging, a parachute choking his
nuts and a moderate weight keeping them sagging. But he was more interested
in his favorite sport, one which dominated most of his time when he was
busy at his 'job', building up his awesome swimmers build. "Shame you can't
tell me what you're thinking!" Judson says, uttering his words from his
mouth, almost completely surrounded by the mask over his head. "But since
you're my boy now..."

As Judson removed the ballgag, Clyde was still screaming,
"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkk... ohhh..fuckkkkkk!" since his captor was using his balls
to lower his bod some so he could reach the clasp of the gag.

"Good. Any comments before I proceed to turn your sixpack into mush?" He
stood there, listening, as he did some flexing, limbering up, cracking his
knucles, usually stretshes a muscle-builder does.

"Wouldn't matter much what I have to say. Scum like
you....hough-h-h-h-h-h!" It ended Clyde's speech, Judson hefting his fist
into his captive's abs. From the gut punch, he could tell Clyde had done
time in the gym and this made him more elated, things tingling down below.

Gaining back some control, rather quickly, making Judson's assumptions
correct, Clyde says in between gasps, "Too bad your such a gutless piece of
shit, too cowardly, punching a man all trussed up. Too afraid to face me
one on one?"

For Ali, he would totally disregard what a captive said, but for Judson, it
entertained him, thoughts in the back of his mind falling upon his high
school and college wrestling days. It began to derail his train of thoughts
of the job he was supposed to be doing.

"I thought so," Clyde replied. Of course he had ulterior motives, but for
his purposes, of getting him and his partner out of this horrific mess, he
went with anything which bought time.

%

"Ohh-h-h-h-h... no..no... stop!" Bastien, the thirty-eight year old judge
of 'Make Me A Star' called out as Juan turned the winch.

After finding out how sensitive his nips were, Juan began utilising the one
of hundreds of ways in which he knew how to torture a man's pec
spots. Extending from the hairy pecs of Bastien's chest, his nips
pronouncedly protruded, were assisted by the clamps attached. Making
connection with the sharp-toothed clamps, was a chain. A 'connector'
circled the chain, pulling it at the middle. So, in addition to Bastien's
nips beind stretched out from his chest, the chain stretched them towards
each other. But that wasn't the end of Bastien's torment. The clasp
attached to the single chain extended to a barrel, which twirled around as
Juan turned a crank. All this was happening as Bastien occupy the same
chair, bod made erect by his pits at the top of the tall-backed chair, over
which Bastien's arms had been bound, wrists drawn together at the back and
them too bound to a hook at the rear.

"Another turn of the screw?" Juan teased as he laughed, turning the handle,
tightening the chain, which in turn stretched Bastien's nips even further.

"Akkkkkk-oh-oh-noo-o-o-o... akkkkkkkk... stop!"

"Stop?" Juan says, "Why? When we both are having so much fun?"

Delerious, Bastien didn't know which way was up, as Juan reaches down to
his lap and strokes his cock.

"Ohh-h will you look at this?" He held up to Bastien's eyes his wet
finger. "Another tasty treat for you?"

Bastien held his lips tightly pursed.

A turn of the handle took care of this, and as Bastien opened his mouth
wide to sound off his displeasure of having his nips stretched more, Juan
quickly wiped his precum-laden finger off on Bastien's tongue!

After reacting, screaming his lungs out, Bastien's settling made him
realize the salty taste in his mouth. He did a fake coughing to show his
displeasure.

"You will get used to that taste, believe me gringo!"

Even though in pain, Bastien was thankful, for now, Juan had stepped away
from this torturing device, the pedestal in front of him, the turning
barrel, which coiled up the chain, on top. He wondered how much worse it
could get, thinking of how both his nips had been evenly whipped with the
riding crop, then toyed with by Juan's fingers and thumbs, squeezing and
mashing, then this, alligator clamps attached, the chain between menacing
his nips as it had been drawn up in the clutches of the turning handle. He
winced when he moved, trying to pull at his wrists, which hurt him
insanely.

"Now didn't I tell you not to move gringo? That any movement whatsoever
would make your nips twitch?" At the end of his second warning, the first a
half hour or so ago, Juan laughed out loudly as he flicked the release
clip.

Instantly, the tension slacked, causing the chain to sink to Bastien's
stomach. His nips drooped, which set off the pain factor once more.

Quickly, Juan's hand dove into Bastien's ball pocket, stroking him once
more. "See gringo? You like your nips in pain!"

"Fuck you!" Bastien damned him.

"Oh no gringo. Maybe you misunderstand me? I fuck you!" Juan again set off
to laughing at Bastien's impending misery.

Rolling the stretching table, which assisted Juan in making Bastien's
already swollen nips seared with pain by the stretched clamps, he set about
setting up his captive for the next 'endurance'.

At thirty-six years old, over time Juan had changed habits, from early
years at the gym, to becoming a lazy couch-potato. Still, he claimed to be
a gymrat at one time, but one could tell he hasn't been too faithful to
committing himself to a healthy routine.

Bastien watched every move, the beefy Latino moving things around. He did
at one time look down upon himself. It was a mystery to himself, how Juan
managed to make his nips so sore, yet his cock was reacting as if he was
having sex with one of his many boyfriends. Too, it didn't turn off
entirely, watching Juan busy at work, the occasional silhouette which set
off his rounded stomach a dark stripe from his beefy chest to where his
leather chaps obscured the rest. He actually found humor in it, thinking of
how Juan hasn't 'missed many meals'! And strangely enough, if this wasn't
enough, whenever his mind captured the picture of Juan head on, the full
frontal picture of his hairy chest, stomach and the swirl around his lower
abs, his mouth watered. He attributed this to not having anything to drink
for about two hours.

"Okay. We ready gringo!"

Questioning him, Bastien's facial expression showed it all, with no gadget
in Juan's hands in which to do his evil magic on him.

"Time for a stretch?" He laughed.

Releasing a lever, Bastien tried ducking out of the way, chains raining
down on him from the ceiling.

Juan laughed at his reaction.

They stopped shy of hitting his head. Making the dodge, his chair rocked
over and he fell on his side.

"Oh gringo!" Juan rushed over to him. And faking seriousness, "Are you
alright?"

"Like turn off the act?" Bastien was wise. After all, he was former judge
of the most popular television show to hit this century, 'Make Me A
Star'. He 'made' and 'broke' competitors and often, in his own quiet world,
would judge a guy as the greatest singer to hit the stage, on looks and not
actual talent.

"Act gringo? How can you say that after I have 'lovingly' treated you so
well?"

It was another con, feeling his captor's humor rain down on him, hitting
him more than the chains which came out of nowhere from above. And now
those chains were being used on him. He didn't know what was going on
behind his back, but he could feel little clicks and hands toying with his
wrist cuffs.

"I think we ready!" Juan called out.

And with a click, Bastien's cuffs broke apart. 'Oh good!' he thought to
himself, 'Time to make my move!'

But, oh what a surprise when Juan used his weight to counter sending the
chains up towards the ceiling. Like a well rehearsed act Bastien's arms
swung out in front of him and he winced out loud as his hands proceeded to
fly up and over his head. Too, the muscles in his chest caused discomfort,
probably having something to do with his pectorals being toyed with.

"Muy bonito!" Juan said, pleased with his new bondage position.

"You bastard!" Bastien called out to Juan, more a reaction because he
wasn't able to get out of his predicament.

"Ohh-h-h don't you worry gringo. Very soon you will be singing a different
tune!" Juan enunciated his plan, stroking himself in the place which could
be removed if things got 'too tight' under the leather fabric.

Bastien just wondered, how worse could things get? Here he stood, feet flat
on the floor, arms stretched above his head, almost to the point where he
could lose balance. Yet, he stood erect, only because the positioning of
the taut chains connected to each leather wrist cuff.

"Mm-m-m.. now these could prove to be a lot of fun!" He said of Bastien's
balls, tumbling them around in one hand.

Leaning on the chains, Bastien tried dodging him, but there wasn't anyplace
to go, regarding the limited means by which his arms were bound overhead
Strangely, thinking what his outcome was going to be, distracting him from
the pain emanating from his nips, were his balls, now held in the balance
between pleasure and pain.

"But before we get to these melons, I think maybe it time for me to piss
out my built up load of cream!"

There was a difference here and Bastien was feeling it, contrary to Juan
using his ass and his friends. Often him and two other bottom guys would be
involved in an orgy and for a moment he dwell on that memory. However, when
he felt Juan separating him at his ass crevice, especially a finger trying
to find the location of his ass ring, he thought of 'this fuck' being
something dirty. Too, Juan's total disregard, laughing as he pranced behind
him and immediately began touching him about the anal region, humiliated
him. No matter hot much his wrists hurt him, figuring it a necessary
reaction, the weight on the chain between his pecs swinging back and forth,
it became all worth the effort in his struggle to protect his ass from this
'filth'.

Feeling Juan dislodge his knuckle from entering him, his captor exclaims,
"Gringo, you not cooperating. This means I have to 'make' you!"

'In deep shit', is how Bastien termed it, wondering what else could go
wrong. Being subjected to his bondage and nip torture, he wondered what
other things Juan had up his sleeve. Soon enough he found out, Juan pulling
his right leg back, grabbing at the ankle and placing it in a stirrup type
device. "What the fuck?" He questioned when his leg lay stretched out
behind him. But then things changed drastically when Juan secured the left
foot, creating a condition as of the 'wishbone syndrome'. He gasped in pain
at the feeling of having his legs stretched so far apart.

"Now!" Juan said, rubbing his hands together, spitting into both, lubing
himself up, spitting some more, more hand-lubing, "Time to divide and
conquer!"

%

Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

`Lucrative Mining Operation' may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.

The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP.....