his story contains scenes of a sexual nature involving adult males and a boy under the age of eighteen. The characters and events portrayed are totally fictional and any similarities to genuine people or events are entirely coincidental.
The linked photographs are of actors and are only included to give readers an idea of how I visualise the relevant fictional characters; not to suggest that they are in any way linked to those characters.
Stockholm Syndrome: feelings of trust or affection felt in many cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim towards a captor.
he twelve-year-old first-former eased back the duvet, swung his legs to the edge of the bed and sat up. He paused for several seconds as he listened to the steady breathing of his sleeping roommate, then rose and made his way silently to the door. As he opened it, there was a slight creaking sound and he froze. The other lad mumbled in his sleep, then turned over and the steady breathing resumed. The first boy let out the breath that he hadn't noticed he was holding, quietly closed the door and set off down the corridor.
Two floors above a pretty, blond, seventeen-year-old sixth-former lay awake in bed, waiting expectantly for his young lover to arrive. Like many boarding school boys he had been introduced to boy-on-boy sex soon after his arrival at the establishment but, unlike most boys who were straight and switched to girls at some point in their teens, the cute blond was genuinely gay and suspected that his young friend would turn out to be of the same persuasion. The majority of sexual encounters at the school took place between boys of similar age, usually roommates but occasionally a significant gap existed between a couple; normally a top who liked younger lads and a bottom, who preferred older boys and men; the seventeen year old was different in that he was a confirmed bottom who loved to be fucked by boys younger than himself. It hadn't always been easy to find a younger lad who wanted to reciprocate but that particular problem had been resolved the previous September with the arrival at the school of his current boyfriend. Unfortunately their relationship was about to end as the school year was due to finish the following week and the elder boy would be leaving to go to university.
There was a quiet knock at his door and then it opened to reveal a cute, dark haired lad who smiled and said, "Hi, Fluff."
"Hey, Tiger," the older boy replied, smiling in return.
The elder boy's nickname came from the light, downy hair on his backside; the younger lad had called him `Fluffy Bum' which he had later reduced to Fluff. The younger boy's had come from his over-enthusiasm when they had first started having sex and he'd been admonished to `slow down, Tiger.'
The new arrival closed and locked the door before making his way to the bed, divesting himself of his pyjamas on the way. The other, already naked and lying on top of the duvet, opened his arms and embraced the younger boy, drawing him down on top of himself as he did so. They kissed and the elder lad caressed his lover's back, moving his hands lower until he was kneading the boy's buttocks and fingering his anus. He in turn worked his way down the older lad's body, planting soft kisses on his chest and belly as he went, until he reached his goal, five-and-a-half inches of hard, uncut boy cock.
Peeling back the foreskin to reveal the glistening, crimson glans, the younger boy eagerly took the cock into his mouth and began to fellate his boyfriend. After a few minutes he sensed that the elder lad was nearing his climax, stopped what he was doing, climbed on top of the other until he was sitting astride his chest and offered his own, three inch cocklet for similar treatment. The older boy responded with alacrity and soon it was the younger lad's turn to feel his orgasm approach. That was as much foreplay as two horny boys needed and, as the younger one climbed off and reached for the lube on the bedside table, the elder turned over and presented his arse for action.
The younger boy smeared lube over his pre-pubescent cocklet; he had only turned twelve the previous month and hadn't yet started puberty. Next he rubbed some around his elder lover's anus and pushed two fingers inside. That was enough; the older boy could take the lad's slim, three inches without any problem. He lined himself up, pressed against his target and pushed firmly, sliding inside quickly and easily.
The twelve-year-old started to fuck, slowly moving his cocklet in and out; he had learned how to pace himself over the previous nine months. Although well used, the older anus had never taken any large cocks and was still fairly tight, providing plenty of friction for its small intruder. The little cocklet only occasionally touched the older lad's prostate but this didn't diminish his pleasure as he had an extremely sensitive anus and any significant prostate stimulation would probably have tipped him over the edge sooner than he wanted.
After a few minutes they changed position; the older boy turning onto his back while the younger began to fuck harder and faster while simultaneously masturbating his lover. It was the twelve-year-old who came first, giving one final thrust as he had his dry orgasm. He continued to wank the older boy and a few seconds later he climaxed as well, spurting his cream over his belly and chest. The younger lad leaned over, licked the cum off his boyfriend's body and moved up until they were kissing passionately and sharing the fruits of their labour.
They slipped under the duvet and lay quietly in one another's arms for several minutes until the younger boy broke the silence. "I wish you were coming back next term, Fluff."
"So do I Tiger," the other responded, "but I don't have any choice in the matter. We'll keep in touch though."
"Will we be able to meet and make love?"
"That might be more difficult but we can definitely try."
"You'll have graduated from university by the time I've finished school, we can live together then, can't we?" the younger boy asked.
"I wish I could say yes Tiger but it's not that simple. My father is already suspicious about my sexuality and he's told me that he'll cut me off without a penny if I come out as gay. I'm expected to get my degree, work in the family business, get married and have kids."
"Money isn't everything, Fluff. We'd be happy just being together."
"It sounds wonderful but I'm used to an affluent lifestyle. It's different for you, you know you're not going to get anything from your dad and are prepared for it. I'd hate being poor and our relationship would suffer because of that. We'd just end up being miserable."
"Don't get married too soon, Fluff. I'm going to make my fortune and then you can come to live with me and you can tell your dad to fuck off!"
The older boy laughed, "That's great, Tiger; as soon as you've made your first million give me a shout and I'll come running."
Later, when the younger lad had returned to his own room, he lay awake considering the earlier conversation. `We will be together someday,' he thought determinedly, `I'll find a way to make it happen.'
he man lay in the cover of the bushes and observed the target through a pair of powerful binoculars. Jack Simmons had tried numerous ways to make his fortune in the twenty years since he had left school, most of them illegal but this current idea was by far the most audacious. Apart from five years in the army, he had been a small time criminal all his adult life, with three convictions and one eighteen month stretch to show for it. He had never managed to pull off the `big one' but hopefully all that was about to change; he and two accomplices were about to move up to kidnapping.
Jack had started his life of crime while still at school, shoplifting in the local town mainly, before moving on to stealing from cars. After he'd completed his spell in the army he'd tried to `go straight' but had failed and, rather than steal from vehicles, he'd begun taking the cars themselves. The vast improvements that were made in vehicle security over the years had greatly reduced his income from that source and so he'd switched to housebreaking instead. His convictions had started with community service, then fines and suspended sentences before he finally got sent down for three years of which he served half before being paroled. It was during this period that he met Colin Matthews, another career criminal who was Jack's cellmate for almost a year; Colin was perfect for Jack as he was prepared to bottom, whereas Jack would only top and he spent many a happy hour pounding his cellmate's arse. When they weren't fucking they talked and the main topic of discussion was of course crime, particularly how to carry out the perfect one.
Colin believed that kidnapping, although dangerous, could be extremely lucrative, so the pair spent hours working out a series of dos and don'ts that would allow a successful kidnapping to be carried out. Firstly the target would have to be rich, naturally but would also have to be willing to pay up rather than go to the cops; another John Paul Getty would be no use whatsoever. Secondly the victim would have to be easily `abductable'; the abduction would be the second most dangerous part of the operation and a man might prove difficult to overpower, he might cause trouble by fighting back, something they believed was less likely with a woman or child. In addition it would be best to target someone who could be found alone in an isolated spot, reducing the chances of there being any witnesses.
A kidnapping would need more than one person, so the project would require accomplices for both the abduction and the most dangerous part of all, collecting the ransom; neither Jack nor Colin were prepared to do that themselves. Therefore these accomplices would have to be trustworthy but not too bright; if they had too much in the brain department they might question why they were being tasked with collecting the ransom, which was the time that things were most likely to go wrong. Equally, they had to be trusted not to abscond with the money and, if caught, not to `grass' to the cops.
The ransom itself should be substantial but affordable; they had to demand enough money to make the risk worthwhile but the target must have sufficient funds available to pay up without too much difficulty, therefore decreasing the chances of police involvement. Finally they had to avoid building any sort of personal relationship with the abductee; they were aware of the Stockholm Syndrome, where kidnap victims developed a bond with their abductors and this could work both ways; if the project failed they might have to kill the hostage and they couldn't allow anything to happen that would prevent them from carrying out this unpleasant task.
The pair never had any intentions of actually committing such a crime; it had merely been a way of passing the time but when Colin was released and Jack had a new cellmate he began to give the idea some serious thought. The new guy, Seamus Murphy, was an Irishman who'd spent much of his life working in the horseracing world and had innumerable stories about it; in fact he could bore for Ireland on the subject. Jack ignored him most of the time but one tale did interest him; Seamus had been working at a horseracing stud in his home country where the former Derby winner Erin Bhoy was stabled and, according to Jack's cellmate, the horse had once been abducted. The stud staff had all been sworn to secrecy and the story never made the news but a week or so later the horse had been returned unharmed, a ransom seemingly having been paid. The horse and, indeed, the entire stud were owned by Brendan O'Leary, the Anglo-Irish multi-millionaire financier and if he'd pay to get one of his horses back, it was fair to assume that he'd pay to get his wife or one of his children back.
After his own release, Jack began to investigate the man and his family to discover whether or not a kidnapping attempt would actually be feasible. O'Leary had been born and raised in the Ballymun area of Dublin's Northside to a family that couldn't be called prosperous and might even be described as living in poverty. By the time he arrived in London in the mid-eighties, the young man was already wealthy, although exactly how he'd made his money was unclear. For a man with a little money, some talent and a willingness to take a few risks, Thatcherite Britain in the late eighties was just the place to turn that wealth into a small fortune and O'Leary did just that, mainly in currency speculation but with sticky fingers in several other juicy pies as well. The 1992 financial crisis gave him the opportunity to convert his small fortune into a large one and he hadn't looked back, continuing to increase his wealth and becoming known to a wider audience through his string of racehorses, in particular Erin Bhoy which had won the Derby at Epsom.
He married his first wife, Sandra, in 1993 and a son, Patrick, was born two years later. Unfortunately Sandra had developed breast cancer soon after the birth of her son and had died in 1997. He remarried in 2001, his new wife Kathy producing a second son, Kieran, the following year. The pair were married for eight years, divorcing in 2009, when eight-year-old Kieran went to live with his mother. When she was killed in a car crash in 2011, the boy moved back to his father's home, although both he and his elder brother spent much of their time at an expensive boarding school. A third marriage followed in 2010, to the woman who had previously been his mistress and had been the main cause of the breakdown of his second marriage; twin daughters, Caitlin and Siobhan arrived in 2011.
Patrick had recently left university and was now working for his father in London and, although Jack had watched him, it had soon become clear that he was never alone in a suitable place for long enough for an abduction to take place, not without putting the kidnappers at significant risk of being caught at any rate. In addition he was now in his twenties and was therefore a man rather than a child and didn't fall into the `woman or child' category that he and Colin had stipulated as being easily `abductable'.
The twins certainly did fit the required profile but they never seemed to be left alone and, like their elder half-brother, no suitable opportunity to abduct them seemed to present itself. That left fifteen-year-old Kieran; he was currently living at his father's Oxfordshire estate while on holiday from school and the kid spent long hours on his own in the surrounding countryside, which made him the obvious target.
The lad was currently roving around the estate on a motorbike; although still too young to ride it on public roads, the private estate was large enough to allow the boy to roam a considerable distance from the house. As he stopped and looked around while sitting astride the machine, Jack took the opportunity to take some photographs. He was a handsome lad, around 5'5" and 125 pounds, with floppy dark hair and boyish good looks and, as the man took his pictures, he couldn't help thinking that he bore a strong resemblance to Edward Furlong in Terminator 2.
Jack watched as the boy got the machine going and returned to the house. After several minutes it was clear that he wasn't coming out again and the man worked his way through the bushes, stood up, brushed himself down and set off to where he'd left his van, a black Citroen Berlingo.
That evening Jack's two accomplices called round and the three men went over the plan one last time. It was a straightforward idea; one of the men would watch the house and let the others know which route the boy was taking on his usual afternoon motorbike ride. After watching him they'd noticed that he always set out on one of two directions although he would vary his route once he'd gone a distance from the house. One of the routes included a narrow lane near the edge of the estate, hemmed in by hedges; here the other two men would park the van, blocking the lane and pretend to work on a flat tyre. The boy would be forced to stop and they would then abduct him, put him in the back of the van and drive off. They were confident that the lad would go in the direction they wanted the following day as he'd taken the other that afternoon and tended to alternate between them but if he took the other route they would postpone the kidnapping until the next day.
The other two men were brothers, Bill and George Taylor and, although they were large men and useful associates, they weren't exactly the sharpest tools in the box and Jack wanted to ensure that they knew precisely what they had to do. He also had to rely on one of them to watch the house and report on young Kieran's movements, as Jack wanted to be in on the abduction himself. If things didn't go according to plan he wasn't sure that he could count on the brothers to think on their feet. Eventually Jack was satisfied that they knew their roles and they returned home having arranged to meet again the following morning. Before going to sleep that night, Jack took his usual shot of smack. Having only one small shot before bed each evening, he didn't consider himself to be an addict, merely a user, although his behaviour could certainly be considered to be habitual.
wo o'clock the following afternoon found Bill Taylor in the bushes watching the house, while Jack and George sat in the van near the planned abduction site. At five past Jack's phone rang and Bill informed him that the boy had indeed taken their preferred route. Jack drove the van onto the estate and parked in the lane. George knelt down by one of the front wheels while Jack stood over him apparently watching him work. A few minutes later they heard the sound of the approaching machine and Jack looked up and saw the boy heading down the lane towards the rear of the van. He walked back and met the lad a few feet behind his own vehicle.
"What's going on?" the boy demanded.
"We've got a puncture," Jack replied.
"What are you doing here though," the lad responded. "This is a private estate."
"Oh, sorry about that, we got lost. Hey maybe you can help, I've got a map in the van; you can show me where we are while my mate sorts the tyre."
"OK, sure," the boy said, switching off the bike's engine and following Jack to the van.
Jack opened an Ordnance Survey map of the area and laid it on the floor of the van, just inside the rear doors. He pointed to a spot about a mile from their actual location and said, "We're here, aren't we?"
The boy leaned over to get a better view. "No," he replied, "you're . . ." He got no further; George had moved quietly around the van until he was behind the boy. He reached around the lad with both arms, pinning him to his chest while Jack placed a solvent soaked rag over his mouth and nose. The boy struggled for a few seconds and then sagged, unconscious in George's arms.
"Quick, get him into the van," Jack urged and his accomplice obeyed immediately. Once in the vehicle Jack took a photograph of the boy, then bound his hands and feet, gagged his mouth and covered his head with a cloth bag which he secured around the lad's neck with a drawstring, effectively blinding him. Kieran hadn't seen Bill and had seen virtually nothing of George. Jack had grown a full face beard over the preceding weeks and was wearing glasses with clear lenses. When he returned to his normal shaven look and discarded the glasses he was confident that the boy wouldn't be able to identify him from their brief meeting.
While Jack was dealing with the boy, George had closed the rear doors and climbed into the driver's seat. He was already pulling away as Jack finished his task; the whole episode had lasted under two minutes. As they drove off Jack searched the boy, found his mobile phone and switched it off. He was confident that there would be no police involvement but didn't want them to be able to track the boy's phone if the worst happened.
Around ten minutes later the boy began to wake up and as he came to full consciousness he started to struggle. Jack, sitting next to him in the rear of the van, grabbed his arm firmly and said, "Lie still. If you do as you're told you won't come to any harm. If you cause us problems we'll kill you, understand?"
The boy tried to answer but the gag prevented him so he nodded yes and hoped that the man got the message. He was terrified and the death threat didn't help his state of mind but embarrassment currently outweighed his terror, as his lower body was soaking and he realised that he'd wet himself.
Their base for the operation was a cottage in the Cotswolds, which Jack had rented for a month using a false name and paying in cash. He had chosen it for its remote location; the nearest neighbour was half-a-mile away and the fact that it had a windowless cellar. Within half-an-hour of abducting the lad, George was pulling up outside the cottage next to Bill's car, which was already parked there.
George got out of the van, opened the rear doors and lifted the boy out. He carried him into the cottage, down the stairs to the cellar and laid him on the iron framed bed that Jack previously placed there. Once on the bed he clipped a lockable metal cuff to one of the lad's ankles, the cuff was attached to a chain, the other end of which was secured to the bed. When he was finished he went back outside and got into the car with Bill; only Jack was going to stay in the cottage with the hostage. As Bill drove off, George opened his window and said, "You're going to have fun Jack, the boy's pissed himself." The two brothers laughed as they drove off leaving a bemused Jack behind.
When they had gone, Jack removed the false plates from the van, descended into the cellar and raised the bag far enough to remove the gag from the lad's mouth. Then he untied the boy's feet but left his hands bound.
"Right son," he said, "this can be quick and easy or slow and painful. I'm sure you want it to be over as soon as possible, so do as you're told and cooperate, OK?"
"First of all I need your father's private email address. It'll speed things up and reduce the number of people who know what's happened."
"It's on my phone," the boy replied. He gave Jack the access code for the phone and the man found the information he needed. He already knew that there was no phone or GPS signal in the cellar, so had no compunction in switching the device on. He had obtained a cheap pay-as-you go phone and a new Gmail address, which he intended to use for the operation and then destroy the phone and SIM card and delete the email address when it was over.
"I'm going to send your father an email, then I'll come back down and we'll sort out the rules for your stay." Jack went back upstairs, attached the photograph he'd taken of the boy to an email he'd previously drafted, took a deep breath and pressed send. It was done now; there was no backing out at this stage.
When Jack returned to the cellar the boy was sitting at the edge of the bed with his head hanging down. "Can I have a shower please?" he whined, "I . . . I've pissed myself."
Jack thought for a few seconds. "OK Kieran," he said, "but it'll have to be a bath. I'm going to keep your hands tied and your eyes covered and a shower won't work. I'll untie your hands for now but don't remove the bag until I've left the room and told you it's OK. Strip down to your underpants and then put the bag back on. I'll run a bath and then come back for you and tie your hands again. Don't even think about trying to look at me. Understand?"
"Yes, I've got it."
Jack left the cellar and called back, "OK Kieran, you can remove the bag and undress." Then he went to the bathroom and ran the boy a bath. When he had finished he returned to the cellar and called out, "I'm coming back in, make sure the bag is back on." He entered and found the boy standing with the bag back in place, stripped to his underpants with the exception of one leg of his jeans which he couldn't get passed the metal cuff. Jack tied Kieran's hands behind his back, unlocked and removed the cuff from his ankle and completed the removal of his jeans. Finally he removed the boy's underpants and found himself looking at a stunning example of boy beauty.
Jack was gay and liked younger men but had never really given much thought to teenage boys in recent years. Now as he gazed at Kieran's naked perfection he found that he had gained an erection. With his head covered the boy couldn't see the man's reaction but he heard the intake of breath and was aware of the long pause before he was led out of the cellar.
"Can I take a shit first?" Kieran asked when they had reached the bathroom.
Jake sat him on the toilet and said, "Stay there and have your crap. I'm going to put your clothes in the washing machine and if you move from that position you'll regret it."
"I . . . I won't," Kieran stammered in reply. He was confused by the man's switching between helpfulness and threats but had no thoughts of doing anything other than what he was told.
When Jack returned from putting Kieran's clothes in the machine he found the boy where he had left him. "I'm finished now. Can you release my hands so that I can wipe my arse?" he asked.
"No chance," Jack replied, "I'll do it." Then, to the boy's horror, the man pulled him to his feet, grabbed several sheets of toilet paper and wiped his bum for him. It was the first time this had happened since he was a small child and he couldn't remember that far back. He thought it was the most embarrassing thing that could happen until he realised that the intimate contact was causing his penis to stiffen.
Jack flushed the toilet, led Kieran to the bath and helped him to climb in and sit down. Then he washed his hands and proceeded to wash the boy. He'd seen the lad's reaction to having his arse touched and so he took great pleasure in touching him intimately as he washed him. The reaction was gratifying as Kieran grew to an impressive, for a fifteen-year-old, six inches.
Kieran's initial embarrassment passed. The man was obviously fondling him deliberately, so the boy decided to go with the flow and enjoy the feelings. He'd had sexual relations with boys at school but never before with a man and, strangely, being in the position of a tied and blindfolded kidnap victim only heightened his excitement.
Jack felt that he'd taken things as far as he could for the moment, so he pulled the plug, helped Kieran out of the bath and started to dry him. This provided as many opportunities for fondling as the washing had and the boy's erection never diminished. Jack finished on his knees, drying the lad's legs and, when he was done, found the hard boy cock right in front of his face. Before he knew what he was doing, he had taken hold of it, pulled back the foreskin and started licking pre-cum from its slit.
Kieran groaned with pleasure and, encouraged that his ministrations weren't unwelcome, Jack took the boy's cock into his mouth and began to suck him off. After a few seconds it was all over as Kieran erupted into the man's mouth. Standing up, Jack placed a hand on Kieran's shoulder and applied pressure. The boy understood and knelt down. The man then undid his fly, pulled out his own hard seven inches, raised the bottom of the bag and pressed his cock against the lad's lips. Kieran opened up like a good boy should and returned the compliment; swallowing the man's load a few minutes later.
Jack wrapped a towel round the boy's waist to cover him until his clothes were ready and led him back to the cellar. Once there, he attached and locked the cuff to Kieran's ankle and untied his hands. "When I leave, you can take off the bag but when I return, you put it on again, OK?"
For the first time Kieran had the opportunity to look around the cellar. The bed lay along the wall opposite the steps up to the door and was bolted to the floor. The chain attached to his ankle allowed him to reach the bottom of the steps but no further. Against the left hand wall (looking from the bed) was a portable chemical toilet designed for camping. At least he wouldn't have to have his arse wiped for him every time he took a shit! Opposite this was a table with a large bowl of water, soap, a wash cloth, a towel and even a toothbrush; rudimentary perhaps but he would be able to keep himself reasonably clean. Other than that the cellar was bare, with nothing that could possibly identify the man or where they were.
Around an hour later they went through the bag routine again when Jack brought Kieran's laundered clothes back and this time when he went he left the boy food for dinner. Kieran was starving and wolfed it down before lying on the bed. He was tired after a long and stressful day but had so many thoughts racing around inside his head there was no way he could sleep.
Whereas Jack was confident that everything was going according to plan and would work out just as he intended, Kieran had other ideas. He knew a lot more about his father than the kidnapper seemed to and was certain that at some point Jack's plan would fall apart and when it did he had to be ready to take advantage. Failure to do so wouldn't just be dangerous; it might well prove to be terminal.
Upstairs Jack's phone rang and when he checked it he saw that he had an email. It was from Brendan O'Leary and he agreed to meet Jack's three million pound ransom demand. He asked for a couple of days to raise the money, however and Jack accepted this condition; he knew very well that even multi-millionaires don't keep that kind of cash lying around.
Jack then sent a text message to Bill and George. It was a seemingly innocent message but was in fact a pre-arranged code that told them that O'Leary had agreed to their demands and that he would contact them again soon. Once he had finished Jack went to bed, like Kieran he was unable to sleep and, despite promising himself that he wouldn't use drugs during the operation, he found that he had to have his regular fix in order to drop off.
he now familiar routine with the bag was repeated again at eight the following morning when Jack brought breakfast for Kieran and removed the previous evening's dirty dishes.
Jack returned upstairs but found that he couldn't stop thinking about the boy. He'd prepared himself for a couple of days of boredom, watching TV and providing the basics for the lad but the brief sexual activity of the previous evening had whetted his appetite and he wanted more. He didn't want to force himself on Kieran, however, he might be a small time criminal who was now moving up to bigger things but he'd never been a rapist and didn't want to start now.
Meanwhile Kieran was having similar thoughts, the brief experience the previous evening, of being a bound and blindfolded captive of a dominant man, had excited him almost as much as it had scared him and deep down he wanted a repeat performance and even to take things further. He decided that the next time Jack came down to the cellar he'd suggest that they have sex again.
The morning dragged for both of them but eventually lunch time arrived and Jack brought Kieran's food down to him. As he prepared to leave with the breakfast stuff Kieran spoke.
"It's really boring down here with nothing to do," he said.
"I'm sure you'll manage for a day or two. It shouldn't be more than that."
"Maybe we could . . . you know," Kieran suggested in a quiet, hesitant voice.
"Maybe we could, what?" Jack replied. He knew very well what the lad was alluding to but wanted him to spell it out. Then there could be no doubt about whose idea it had been.
"We could have fun together, like we did last night after the bath."
"You want us to have sex, you mean."
The man smiled to himself; it couldn't get any clearer than that. The boy was gay and enjoyed sex and that gave Jack the green light to get exactly what he wanted. "OK," he said, "we'll do it after lunch."
After he'd eaten his own meal Jack returned downstairs, weighed up the situation and decided to shortcut the blindfold ritual. He made Kieran stand and face away from him and told the lad to close his eyes. Then he removed the bag and the boy's T-shirt before replacing the bag. He tied Kieran's hands behind his back, unlocked the ankle cuff and removed his jeans and underpants. Apart from his socks, which hardly counted, the boy was now naked and Jack viewed him with some appreciation.
Kieran had a slim build but, as an active lad, had a fair amount of muscle definition. His face, arms and lower legs were tanned; a testament to his outdoor lifestyle. The rest of his body was creamy white apart from two small, dark nipples. He had very little body hair; the usual under arm and lower limb hair and pubes that were obviously trimmed. His uncut, six inch cock was hard and curved slightly upward.
Jack got Kieran to sit on the edge of the bed and then knelt in front of him. He placed a hand on each of the boy's knees and ran them up and down his smooth thighs while he leaned forward and licked the lad's nipples. Kieran moaned with pleasure, despite his current circumstances the feelings were exquisite and, just as the previous day, the situation seemed to enhance rather than diminish his enjoyment.
The man worked the boy's nipples for a few moments and then moved south, peeling back the lad's foreskin and engulfing his cock; taking its entire length into his throat and making Kieran squeal in delight. He'd been sucked off before but this was his first experience of deep throating and he loved the sensations it was giving him. Jack sensed that the boy was close and pulled back, smiling when he heard the lad's frustrated groan.
Next Jack tried to push Kieran onto his back but with his hands bound behind his back this proved to be impossible. Instead he got the boy to kneel on the bed, pushed his head down until it rested on the mattress and began to rim him. This was another first for Kieran and he responded with another squeal, which only encouraged Jack to push his tongue into the boy's anus. Pushing one's tongue into a tight hole is hard work and before too long Jack began to tire and, to Kieran's disappointment, withdrew for a rest. He didn't stop completely though; he continued to lick the boy's perineum and suck his balls, keeping the lad close to the edge.
"You ready to be fucked now?" Jack finally asked.
"Y . . . yes. I think so," Kieran replied tremulously. "Be gentle though, I've never been fucked by a man before, only other boys."
Jack realised that he would need lube and plenty of it. Fortunately he'd found a half full tube of KY in his toilet bag when he'd searched it at lunchtime. He lubed up one finger, pressed against the boy's hole and pushed it home. Kieran gasped as it went in but found that there was no pain. After a few minutes of finger fucking, Jack inserted a second finger, eliciting another gasp as this time the boy experienced a little discomfort. Two fingers were followed by three and for the first time Kieran's arse did hurt but he simply grimaced and took it as well as he could; he knew that he was going to get fucked and that fighting it would only result in more pain.
At last Jack withdrew his fingers, lubed up his cock, applied some more KY to Kieran's hole and lined himself up. He had to push down on the boy's back to get the right height; then, holding his cock in his right hand, he pressed his glans against the lad's anus. Gripping the boy's waist with his left hand he pushed forward and felt his cockhead penetrate the lad's sphincter, which then clamped down on his shaft. Kieran yelped as he felt a burst of intense pain but it passed quickly; this might be his first `man cock' but he wasn't exactly an anal virgin. He and his friends at school had tried most things and, although Kieran preferred to top, he had been fucked more than once.
Jack gave the boy a few seconds to get accustomed to his cockhead and then pushed the rest of his seven inches into the lad's rectum. Kieran squealed again, this time the pain was worse than before. Jack's cock was longer and thicker than anything he'd taken previously and parts of his insides were being stretched further than ever before. Once he'd bottomed out Jack rested again allowing Kieran to recover and, just as before, the pain receded.
Now the man started to fuck the boy, mixing up long slow strokes with short fast ones. Kieran was experiencing a mixture of pain and pleasure but, fortunately, the pleasure just about outweighed the pain. Jack for his part tried to make it as good for the boy as he could, he knew from experience that a pleasured bottom made for a more satisfied top. He attempted to hit the lad's prostate as often as he could but, although he was fairly successful, Kieran's gland wasn't especially sensitive; which was one of the reasons why he preferred to top. Despite this the boy found that he was starting to enjoy himself; the longer it lasted the less pain he felt and therefore the more pleasure he got.
Jack could feel himself getting close. He upped the pace, thrusting fast and deep; at the same time reaching around and masturbating the boy. Not long after he let go of Kieran's cock, gripped the lad's waist with both hands and pounded as hard and fast as he could. A few seconds later he gave one final thrust and erupted into the boy's arse, shooting five or six shots of spunk deep into his body.
It took him the best part of a minute to recover and, when he had, he withdrew his softening cock from the boy's hole and pulled the lad's rock hard boy cock back between his legs. Kieran's foreskin was still withdrawn and pre-cum was flowing copiously from his slit. Jack licked the boy's glans and then took it into his mouth, sucking hard. Kieran had been close to the edge during the fuck and this was enough to tip him over, several spurts of boy juice disappearing into the man's mouth.
Jack used the dampened wash cloth to clean the boy up and towelled him dry. Then he dressed and secured Kieran to the bed, untied his hands, gathered up his own clothes and left the cellar. Obviously the boy's behaviour was down to the Stockholm Syndrome that he and Colin had discussed in their prison cell although he hadn't heard about sexual relationships taking place before, `a hostage with benefits, that's a novel idea,' he thought as he left and chuckled to himself. As long as he maintained a purely physical relationship with the boy and didn't allow any emotional feelings to develop, then he didn't see any reason not to continue having fun for their remaining time together.
Meanwhile Kieran lay back on the bed, with his hands behind his head and considered his situation. He was sure that his father would refuse to pay a ransom for him, therefore at some stage he'd have to offer the man something in exchange for his life and he already had an idea what that would be. He hoped that the sexual relationship that was developing would make it harder for the man to kill him and give him the opportunity to make that offer; if he failed he knew that he would most likely die here.
he following day, when Jack entered the cellar to collect Kieran's lunch dishes, the boy was sitting on his bed hoping that sexual activity would take place again, although he'd decided against asking for it today as he didn't want to appear over eager. The man was also keen to take advantage of the unexpected bonus which had been provided by the boy's sexuality but, all too aware that he had to avoid intimacy, decided that simply using Kieran for his own pleasure would suffice today.
He stood in front of the boy, pulled out his cock and began rubbing it against the lad's face through the cloth of the bag, while it stiffened and grew to its full seven inches. Then he raised the bottom of the bag and rubbed his glans around Kieran's lips, smearing them with pre-cum which caused the boy to instinctively stick out his tongue and lick them. When the lad's tongue disappeared back inside his mouth, Jack instructed him to stick out again, slapped his cock against it, then held the boy's head and pushed fully into his mouth and throat causing him to gag. The man pulled back out while Kieran coughed and spluttered, then repeated the action; this time the boy was ready, relaxed his throat and took all he was given until his nose was pressed against Jack's pubes and the man's balls were touching his chin.
Once again Jack pulled out, gave Kieran a few moments to recover and then pushed back in; he repeated this several more times, gradually increasing the pace until he was face-fucking the boy. Although he'd given and received numerous blow jobs at school, face-fucking was another new experience for Kieran and it took all his concentration to keep his throat muscles relaxed and breathe through his nose. This was a highly sexual situation but the hostage – captor scenario greatly heightened the eroticism for both participants and it didn't take too long for Jack to feel the tightening in his balls as his orgasm approached. When he climaxed, the first spurt went straight down the boy's throat, then pulled back a little and pumped the remainder into his mouth, while Kieran's Adam's apple pulsed as he attempted to swallow it all. Finally Jack pulled out completely, wiped his softening cock around the boy's mouth and tucked it away; then he gathered up the dirty lunch dishes and departed, leaving Kieran feeling used and abused but also surprisingly satisfied.
The third full day followed the same pattern as the previous two; a boring morning, lunch and then sex. This time Jack undid the leg cuff, stripped Kieran naked and tied his hands behind his back; then he laid the boy on his side and began to fondle him. He played with the lad's nipples, tweaking and nipping them roughly before giving his balls the same treatment, bringing pained gasps and groans from his victim but producing a pre-cum leaking erection as well. Jack smeared the slippery fluid around the boy's glans and added masturbation to his manipulation of Kieran's erogenous zones, continually bringing the lad close to orgasm before switching to a less sensitive part until the crisis had passed.
After edging him for nearly half an hour, Jack took some of the boy's pre-cum on two of his fingers and pushed them forcibly into his anus, producing pained squeal of outrage from Kieran who nevertheless pushed back, opening his sphincter and allowing the man to insert a third finger once he'd added a little KY to the mix. Jack placed the boy on his left side, bent at the waist with his arse at the edge of the bed and his head and legs pointed at the wall, pulled out and lubed his hard seven inches, lined up with the lad's hole and pushed slowly but steadily into his rectum. Once he was fully inserted, the man bent his knees slightly, leaned over the boy, placed a hand on each of the lad's right shoulder and knee to hold him in position and, with his feet on the floor to give him leverage, began to thrust in and out at pace, pounding Kieran's tight hole in a way that the boy had never experienced before.
Kieran had been close to cumming even before the fuck started and now, with his prostate taking a beating, he desperately wanted to jerk his cock; but, with his hands bound behind his back, that was impossible, so he tried to roll onto his front in order to hump the bed but found himself being held in place by jack's firm grip. The boy groaned with frustration, whimpered with pain and moaned with pleasure resulting in an incoherent jumble of sounds, while the man grunted with the exertion of giving the lad a good, hard fuck. Eventually the prostate stimulation succeeded in pushing Kieran over the edge and his cock twitched and pulsed as it ejaculated several spurts of boy juice; his muscles tensed at the same time and his sphincter clamped tightly onto Jack's pistoning cock, which caused him to climax too. He gave two or three more thrusts and then slumped down across Kieran's body and lay there while both came down from their intense orgasms.
Once he'd recovered, Jack released the boy's hands and stood guard while he cleaned up and dressed, before attaching the leg cuff and leaving the cellar. After he'd gone, Kieran lay down on the bed and replayed the fuck in his mind; it had been the best sexual experience of his young life and had provided him with a hands free orgasm for the first time. He'd been told that such things were possible but had never been close to achieving one before and had doubted that he ever would; to do so now, bound and blindfolded in a cellar was somewhat disconcerting and his feelings for the man were mixed to say the least.
When Jack checked his emails that evening, their fourth at the cottage, he was delighted and more than a little relieved, to find one in his in-box from Brendan O'Leary, confirming that he now had the cash and requesting details of how it should be delivered.
Jack's plan, or his and Colin's to be precise, was quite complex and designed to allow the money to be obtained with minimum risk to those collecting it. Jack had been born and raised in London and was still based there; with the abduction taking place in Oxfordshire and his current hideout being in the Cotswolds, he had decided to have the ransom handover take place in Birmingham in order to divert attention away from his real location. Bill and George would each take two stolen cars, obtained with cloned key fobs and fitted with false number plates and park them backwards, side by side, in a multi-storey car park in the Midlands city. Bill had already put another cloned fob into the mailbox of O'Leary's London apartment, having confirmed that it was currently unoccupied. Jack would now email the man with that information and give him the location and registration of the vehicle to which it belonged. He would be instructed to place the money, £3 million in used £50 notes, in plastic shopping bags, have them put in the boot (trunk) of the car and then follow some further complex instructions for the return of the key fob, which were wholly extraneous and designed to remove whoever delivered the money from the area. George would be observing from outside the car park, while Bill would be in a third vehicle further along from the two stolen ones observing from inside.
When the two men were satisfied that the money had been delivered and that no-one was watching, George, who had keys for both cars, would enter the car park, transfer the money from one to the other and then drive off, leaving the vehicle that O'Leary knew about in the car park; Bill would follow at a discreet distance to ensure that no-one else was doing the same. Once out of the city they would follow little used country lanes to confirm that they weren't being tailed, transfer the money to Bill's car and abandon the stolen one. At this point they would contact Jack who would drop the boy off a few miles from his home, contact his father to inform him of his son's whereabouts and then rendezvous with the brothers in London. Unless O'Leary had contacted the police it was extremely unlikely that anything would go wrong but if it did, Jack would kill the boy and trust Bill and George to keep their mouths shut; something they'd been doing all their lives as they considered grassing to be the worst crime imaginable.
Jack sent another coded text message to the brothers and an email to O'Leary, setting up the ransom handover for the following afternoon and then went down to the cellar to pass on the good news to Kieran. He had expected the boy to show some positive emotion, relief at the very least but was surprised at how downbeat he was, almost as if he didn't expect the transfer to go ahead. After Jack had left, Kieran lay on the bed, deep in thought; despite the man's obvious confidence, he was certain that tomorrow would be a tumultuous and extremely dangerous day. He knew his father far better than Jack did; the man had been seduced by Brendan O'Leary's public image and had no idea about the real man behind that false front. The boy thought again about what he had to offer in return for his life and hoped that it would be enough to assuage the anger that he suspected Jack would be displaying when his plans turned to dust.
here was no sex the following afternoon; Jack sat upstairs waiting eagerly for his phone to ring, while Kieran lay on his bed in the cellar dreading the lack of that call. Time crawled by for both of them, the man's confidence waning and the boy's fear increasing, every minute that news failed to arrive. Eventually, an hour after the brothers should've called, Jack cracked and called them; the phone rang out without being answered and went to voicemail. He tried again fifteen minutes later and then every five minutes until another hour had elapsed, at which point he accepted that his plans had failed; either the brothers had double crossed him, which he considered extremely unlikely, or the police had been waiting for them and they were now in custody.
In fact another scenario had existed, one that Jack hadn't considered or had deemed too far-fetched to be taken seriously. While Bill sat and observed the two cars, several other vehicles entered and left the car park, one of which was a Ford Transit van. This vehicle parked further along from Bill, two men got out of it and walked away, laughing together and he gave it no more thought. A little later three men appeared, each carrying a number of plastic shopping bags which they proceeded to load into the boot of the designated car just as the instructions had said. Once they'd departed, Bill called George, they each confirmed that the coast was clear and the latter entered the car park and began to transfer the money. As he did so, the rear doors of the Transit burst open and six men jumped out, three of whom ran over and grabbed George. Bill, seeing his brother being assaulted, completely forgot his instructions and went to his aid, only to find himself similarly apprehended. While this happening several more men appeared including the original two from the Transit and the three who'd delivered the cash; Bill and George were bundled into the back of the van which drove off, followed by all three of the cars the brothers had brought.
The idea that O'Leary would carry out such an audacious act, leaving his son at the mercy of his kidnapper made no sense and so Jack had not planned for it. He had assumed that the man would either pay up or call in the police and that assumption would have been a reasonable one for any normal father; but Brendan O'Leary was not a normal father, as Jack was about to discover.
With his plans in ruins, the only logical thing for Jack to do now was kill Kieran, dispose of his body and hope that he'd left no evidence to link himself to the kidnapping. He thought about the things he'd done with the boy, wondered whether or not they would hinder him in his actions and decided that they wouldn't; it was simply too dangerous to allow him to live.
Kieran knew that his fears had been realised as soon as Jack entered the cellar without warning, giving the boy no opportunity to blindfold himself; that could only mean that the man intended to kill him. For the first time since his abduction he laid eyes on his kidnapper and the man's fury was plain to see. "Your friends are dead, or soon will be. If you kill me you'll eventually go the same way unless you've got enough money salted away to disappear abroad," he said.
There was a look of astonishment on Jack's face, whatever he'd expected the boy to say, it wasn't that. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he enquired. "How do you know about my friends?"
"I've got ears; I know there were at least three of you when you brought me here, so the others must've gone for the ransom. My father's men will have them now, they'll be tortured and they'll talk; everyone does, you know. Then the men will come after you and they'll succeed, unless you can leave the country and go somewhere where they can't find you; do you have the cash to do that?"
"N . . . No, of course not. Just who the fuck is your father?"
"He runs one of the biggest criminal organisations in Western Europe but we haven't got time to discuss that now, not if you want to live. How much ransom did you ask for me?"
"Three million," Jack replied, too stunned at the turn of events to do anything else, "a million each."
"Do you have a place we can go, somewhere that your friends don't know about?"
Normally the answer to that question would've been no but another two friends of Jack's were out of the country for several months and had asked him to keep an eye on their house while they were away, Bill and George knew nothing about them. "Yes I do, why?"
"I know how to get my hands on five million pounds of my father's money, in bearer bonds; we can split it fifty-fifty, two and a half million each but we need to get out of here quickly, before they come for you, go somewhere safe where we can hole up and make our plans."
Jack's mind was racing, he had no idea whether the boy was being truthful or merely spinning him a line in order to stay alive. Part of him was screaming, `just kill him and take your chances,' while another was calmly telling him, `take your time, you can always kill him later if he's lying.' Ultimately it was the chance of two and a half million pounds that swayed him, plus a vague notion that he might be able to find a way to secure the entire amount for himself. "OK," he said eventually, "let's give it a go but if you're lying, you're dead."
Since he had been planning to leave that evening anyway, Jack was already packed with all his gear in the van; the only additional thing he grabbed now was the boy's toothbrush. He tied Kieran's hands behind his back and blindfolded him again, no sense in taking unnecessary risks, then took him upstairs, out to the van and then bundled the boy into the rear of the vehicle and tied his feet for good measure. He made one final, brief check of the cottage and then drove off, leaving lights burning in the front room. He didn't go far; half a mile down the road he turned off to the right and then took another right after about a mile. Approximately half a mile on, a farm track came in from the right and he took this, continuing for about quarter of a mile until it ran out next to an isolated barn. He left the van, warned the boy to keep quiet and headed uphill for half a mile on what was now a footpath which led to the crest of a low hill. From here he could look down the far side of the hill to where the lights of the cottage were visible about quarter of a mile away.
There was a small copse at the top of the hill and Jack leaned against a tree while he waited. The boy had intimated that time was of the essence and that the cottage would soon be visited by his father's men; though how he knew that, the man couldn't tell. He tried to call Bill and George again while he waited but their phone was now switched off and went straight to voicemail. He'd been standing there for just over two hours and was starting to think that nothing was going to happen when he saw the lights of a vehicle approach the cottage, stop a few hundred yards from it and then its lights were extinguished; almost immediately another vehicle appeared from the opposite direction and did the same thing. For several minutes nothing seemed to happen, then Jack saw figures silhouetted against the illuminated cottage window and, a few moments later, the faint sound of splintering wood reached him as the cottage door was forced open. Lights came on in every room and he could clearly see a number of men moving around inside and hear their shouts, even at this distance. As he watched the lights were extinguished one after the other and the men exited the cottage, climbed into the vehicles, which had moved close to the building during the raid and drove off, leaving it in darkness
He returned to his van deep in thought; it was obvious that the visitors hadn't been policemen, they would've remained and brought in forensics officers rather than simply depart when they found the cottage deserted. That meant that the boy had been right about one thing, so it stood to reason that he was being honest about the five million as well, didn't it? Jack couldn't be certain of that but after weighing up his options he decided that trusting the boy, up to a point, was a risk worth taking. Back at the van he checked that Kieran was OK, untied the boy and moved him to the passenger seat, confirmed that his friends' house keys were in the glove compartment and set off westwards, towards London.
ack's friends were John Barnes and Simon Davidson, a gay couple who were both ships stewards and were currently on a round-the-world cruise, which would keep them out of the country for another six weeks or so. While they were away, they had left Jack a set of keys to their house in Enfield and asked him to mow the lawn, water the plants and generally keep an eye on the place. They occupied an entirely different portion of Jack's life from the Taylor brothers and neither pair knew of the existence of the other, so he was confident that the house would be a safe place to hole up for a while.
After a brief detour to buy enough food for a few days, he pulled into the drive, stopped in front of the double garage which was attached to the side of the house and handed the keys to Kieran, who got out and opened the doors. There was only one car in the garage, the owners having driven their other one to Southampton at the start of their cruise, so Jack was able to conceal his van, even though he doubted that either Bill or George would be able to remember its registration number. He and the boy then entered the house through the door that accessed the garage directly, went into the living room and sat down, "OK, Kieran," he said, "what the fuck is going on?"
"My dad got into crime when he was a teenager in Dublin; he started working for a drug supplier, realised that he was smarter and tougher than the guy, pushed him out and took over the operation. He was in the `wholesale' side of the business rather than `retail'; in other words he supplied the gangs that sold the drugs on the streets and he expanded until he was supplying all of Dublin and both sides in the North as well.
"In recent times he's moved into the manufacture of synthetic drugs, which are more powerful and have a much greater value for a given weight than traditional drugs and have the added advantage of being produced over here and not imported from abroad. He now manufactures these in the west of Ireland and supplies most of the island; every week thousands of Irishmen cross to Britain to watch football, particularly to Liverpool, Manchester and Glasgow; my dad's couriers travel with them and he now supplies most of Scotland and the north of England too.
"When he moved to London in the eighties, it was primarily to set up a money laundering business but he found that he was actually very good at financial dealing, made even more money and was able to appear completely legitimate. He is totally ruthless, is willing to do anything to protect himself and kill anyone who threatens him."
"OK, I get that," Jack said, "but why wouldn't he pay a ransom for his son, he paid for his horse for fuck sake.
"The one that won the Derby. I met a guy who worked at the stud who told me it had been abducted and that a ransom had been paid."
"Erin Bhoy? It's true that he was taken but Dad never paid a penny for him. He's got excellent sources in Ireland; he found out who'd taken the horse and nasty piece of work called Liam Fallon and a couple of his men paid them a visit. They persuaded the abductors that returning the horse was preferable to living what little remained of their lives in extreme agony."
"He's certainly a man of action but I still don't understand why he won't pay up for you, or why you want to steal his money for that matter."
"When Mum found out about Dad's illegal activities, she wasn't happy but had no intention of telling anyone; it caused strain in their marriage, though and Dad had an affair with the woman who's now my stepmum. My parents divorced and, when Dad asked me which of them I preferred to live with, I picked Mum. When she died, I went back to Dad but he made it clear that felt that I'd betrayed him and said that he'd only keep me until my education was finished and then I was on my own. I was only eight when I made that choice but he held against me just the same, I told you he's ruthless. If you'd taken Pat or one of his `little princesses' he would probably have paid and then he'd have come after you later; he doesn't give a fuck about me, although he'll still take what you've done as an insult and try to kill you. I can't prove it but I'm pretty sure that he had Mum killed; she was rammed off the road by a hit-and-run driver who's never been caught. I hate him and the only way I can get back at him is to take his money."
"Just how are you going to get five million pounds?" Jack asked.
"He keeps that amount in bearer bonds in his safe at the apartment in Belgravia; it's his emergency fund." Kieran pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and held them up. "I've got keys for the building and the apartment and I know the codes for the alarm and the safe; he's arrogant and not too tech savvy, he uses family details for the codes and he'll never think to change them or the locks, even with me being kidnapped."
"Why haven't you done it before now? Why do you need me?"
"I think I could get his money easily enough but to get away with it I'd need to emigrate with a false identity, one that proves that I'm at least eighteen. I wouldn't know where to start when it comes to arranging something like that; I'm hoping that you do, or that you know someone who can help."
As it happened, Jack did have a contact who could supply new identities; the guy specialised in drawing workers in government agencies into criminal activity and then blackmailing them. He now had several of these people working for him and was actually able to provide genuine birth certificates, passports and driving licences under false names. The question was, could the boy really steal five million pounds worth of bearer bonds from his father? "OK, you get the money and I'll provide the new identities."
"Oh no, you sort out the false IDs first; we need to be ready to leave as soon as I've lifted the money. If you think Dad's mad now, wait until he realises that he's been robbed; he'll go ballistic and I don't want to be in the country when he does."
They were surprised to find that it was almost midnight and decided it was time for bed. Despite having had sex together, neither wanted to share a bed; that seemed to be too intimate in the circumstances, so Jack took the master bedroom and Kieran the spare; the third bedroom having been turned into a study. Although he knew that he was going to have to trust the boy more than he liked, Jack was still wary and ensured that all the doors were locked and kept the keys next to his own bed.
he next morning Jack was up 7am as usual but Kieran, as a typical fifteen-year-old, was still in bed when the man made a phone call to his friend just after 10am.
"Hi Ron, it's Jack," he said but, before he could explain the reason for his call, the other guy butted in.
"Christ Jack, what the hell have you done? I heard this morning that there's a contract out on you, you've upset someone with a hell of a lot of clout."
"It's a long story Ron but I need a couple of new IDs, one for me and one for a fifteen-year-old boy that makes him eighteen."
"Have you pinched someone's fuck boy?" the man laughed. "The story is that you might have a teenager with you and he's not to be harmed."
"Yeah, something like that," Jack replied. "Are you willing to supply the IDs or are you going to turn me in?"
"Don't be daft, you're a mate and, if you're going to be a paying customer as well, then whoever's after you can fuck off."
"Thanks Ron," Jack said, knowing full well that being a paying customer was the important part of that decision. At that moment he heard the shower start upstairs and realised that Kieran had finally woken up.
"You must be really keen on this kid but I think you're nuts. If you want my opinion, the best thing you can do his dump him and find someone less dangerous."
"As it happens I agree with you one hundred percent but I need him to do a job and he won't until the IDs are sorted. Once the job's done the only place he's going is into a hole in the ground. Don't worry though; I'll destroy his ID, so there'll be no comeback to you."
"Very wise Jack, very wise. If you can send me a couple of passport photographs of each of you, I'll sort things at this end." The pair then agreed a price for the IDs, which Jack realised had been inflated by the news of the contract on his life but, in the circumstances, he had no option but to accept this. Once the call was over, he transferred half the money using PayPal, the balance would be paid when the documents were ready.
Kieran seemed to be in the bathroom for ages and, when he finally came downstairs, Jack found out why. His hair was gone, replaced by a buzz-cut and he not only looked different, he looked significantly older and Jack thought that he might actually be able to pass himself off as eighteen; not that he was going to live long enough to get the chance, of course.
While Kieran had breakfast, Jack told him about the contract and that he was concerned about going out to get passport photos taken.
"Don't worry," the boy replied, "I had a look around the study and your mates have loads of good camera and computer gear. We can take our own pictures; they're bound to have Photoshop, so we can produce passport sized ones and email them to the ID guy."
After breakfast Kieran went to sort out what he needed and, after half an hour, he called Jack into the study where he found that the boy had set up a camera on a tripod and had it pointing at a blank wall. "Nikon D750," he read the name on the camera, "is that any good?"
"It's a lot better than we need for this job," the boy assured him. Kieran positioned Jack in front of the camera and took several shots of him before they swapped places, the boy showing the man what button to press. Then he connected the camera to a laptop PC, opened Photoshop and soon had the required pictures ready to send to Ron. Jack used his email to send them, he didn't trust the guy enough to let him know Kieran's identity and, shortly after, he received a reply informing him that the documents would be ready in a couple of days.
By the time they were done it was lunchtime and, during the meal, Kieran made a surprising suggestion. "That camera can take video too," he said.
"So?" Jack responded, puzzled.
"Let's make a porno."
"A porno, a sex movie."
"I know what it is but why do you want us to make one?"
"I don't know; it's just something I'd love to do."
"You want to be a porn star?"
"No, of course not; no-one else would see it. It would just be for us, I think it would be a laugh."
"What exactly did you have in mind?"
"We could do a rape scene. You could fuck me with my hands tied behind my back, like we did before but we'll pretend that you're forcing me."
"OK," Jack replied doubtfully. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic but it would pass the time and keep the boy happy, so he couldn't see any harm in it.
"We can't just do it off the cuff," Kieran told Jack, "I'll write a script with a few brief instructions and some cheesy dialogue, just like a real porno has."
After half an hour the boy had finished and he explained what he had in mind. Jack thought that the dialogue was a little too close to the truth and not in very good taste but he accepted it and they made their preparations. Kieran set the camera on its tripod and positioned it where it had a good view of the bed in the master bedroom. He also set his phone up to give a wide angle of the room, including the door; afterwards he would edit the two into a single movie. Then he put plenty of lube in his hole; Jack's cock wouldn't be lubed and he wanted to limit the pain as much as he could. They both stripped to the waist, there didn't have to be a reason for this as far as the movie went but it meant less undressing during the action. Finally they switched on the cameras, the man tied the boy's hands behind his back and they were ready to go.
Jack strode into the bedroom with Kieran slung over his shoulder, struggling and shouting, "Let me go, let me go." He threw the boy onto the bed, climbed onto it as well and positioned the lad face down and arse up. He reached around, undid the boy's trousers and pulled both them and his underpants down. He did the same to himself to release his own cock and lined it up with the lad's hole.
"No, no, what are you doing?" Kieran yelled, putting some panic into his voice.
"Shut the fuck up," Jack responded. "I'm going to have my fun with you whether you like it or not. The more you struggle, the worse it'll be for you and the better for me." With that he shoved his cock into the boy's anus, causing enough real pain to make the lad give a genuine squeal.
"Why are you doing this?" Kieran sobbed, "You said you'd let me go if I got you Dad's money."
"That drug dealing bastard double crossed me and killed my mates. Now daddy's little boy is going to pay the price," Jack growled back, before grabbing the boy's hips and starting to pound his arse.
Kieran continued to shout "No" and "Stop" while Jack simply grunted from the effort he was putting in, all of which was accompanied by the slapping sound of skin against skin. By now the man's earlier doubts had vanished and he was thoroughly enjoying himself; he had no ambitions to rape anyone for real but pretending had turned out to be great fun.
The script had called for Jack to pull out and cum on Kieran's back but he almost forgot and had spurted a couple of times, before he remembered and managed to shoot the last few drops onto the boy. His own phone was on the bedside cabinet and he grabbed it, re-entered the lad and then filmed himself pulling out again, which was followed by a dribble of cum; a little touch that Kieran hadn't scripted but would later edit into the finished movie. Finally the boy, with his hands released, rolled onto his back and Jack sucked him off; something that definitely wouldn't make it into the final cut as it would ruin the `rape' scenario.
After they'd cleaned up, Kieran sat down with the laptop and edited his first porno; most of the material came from the Nikon with a few shots from his own phone, including the opening one of them entering the bedroom and, of course, the final one from Jack's phone. He was pleased with the outcome; it wouldn't pass muster as a professional porn movie but it was a lot better than most of the amateur stuff that he'd seen on the internet. The only negative was the sound quality, which was very poor; obviously the professionals used microphones and didn't rely on the cameras to pick up the dialogue.
That evening they sat down and watched themselves, both the rape scene and the blow job which had been cut from it. It was erotic enough for them to get their cocks out and start jerking off which then led to a sixty nine; fucking being out of the question as Kieran was still too sore. That last orgasm of the day sent them both to bed in a very happy mood and ensured that each enjoyed a good night's sleep; Jack not even requiring his habitual bedtime heroin shot.
ack was up at his usual time the following day, with Kieran once again delaying his appearance until mid-morning. Once he'd eaten breakfast, the boy spent the rest of the morning in the study, using the laptop to make his plans to leave the country and create a new life for himself. He asked Jack if he wanted to do the same but received a vague reply suggesting that the man already had plans in place.
After lunch Jack asked the boy how his arse was feeling and, although it wasn't as painful as it had been the previous day, he still didn't feel up to being penetrated but offered to suck the man off. This offer was naturally accepted and they went upstairs to the master bedroom where the boy fellated the man, who then reciprocated before deciding to shoot up now rather than wait until bedtime. He still tried to convince himself that he was just a casual user and didn't have a drug problem but he hadn't had a fix the previous evening and was probably suffering from minor withdrawal symptoms.
Kieran watched the man's preparations with a furrowed brow, "Why do you use that shit?" he asked.
"It makes me feel good," Jack replied flippantly. "Why else would I?"
"There are better ways to feel good, ways that won't kill you."
"That's a bit rich, considering what your old man does."
"I'm not my dad," the boy snapped back, "I hate him and I hate the drugs he sells, there's no way I'd ever use them." With that he stood up and headed for the study, leaving Jack to his heroin.
A similar pattern emerged the next day, with Kieran finalising his plans after he belatedly awakened and showered; the biggest difference was that the boy now felt up to being buggered when they had sex in the afternoon and Jack was more than happy to oblige. They used the master bedroom again and, for the first time, they shared a slow, almost tender fuck. There was still no intimacy, no kissing for example but Kieran lay on his back while the man took his time, making sure that he hit the boy's prostate with each long, slow stroke; actually making the effort to give the lad some pleasure, rather than only worrying about his own fun. He skipped the post-coital fix this time, preferring to wait until bedtime; it meant that he'd only used twice in three days and made him feel a bit better about his habit.
The next morning, Jack received a text message, which informed him that Ron now had the new ID documents and requesting delivery instructions. He had no intention of revealing his current whereabouts but the Indian owner of his local convenience store in Norwood was willing to take delivery of packages in return for a small remuneration, so Jack gave Ron that address and the man had the documents delivered by courier. He didn't want to go anywhere near his home, as he suspected that O'Leary would have the area watched, so he contacted the store owner and arranged to meet the guy that evening in Bromley, to exchange the package for cash.
Not trusting the anonymity of his van, Jack took his friends' car across the river, made the exchange in a pub car park and then headed back in Enfield, where he and Kieran checked their new IDs and discovered that they were now Graham Pearce and Matthew Atherton respectively. With Jack having delivered on his part of the deal, it was now up to the boy to do likewise and prove that his promise to get his hands on his father's five million in bearer bonds was more than mere bravado.
t was cool for an early August evening, so Kieran didn't look out of place on the Belgravia street, dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt, with the hood up and his hands thrust deeply in the front pockets. He lowered his head and watched out of the corner of his eye, as the Bentley Mulsanne emerged from the luxury apartment block's underground garage and accelerated away. He noted that the car was being driven by, Gerry Flannery, a chauffeur and bodyguard and saw his father's right hand man, Liam Fallon, in the front passenger seat; his father and elder brother, Patrick, were in the rear. He smiled with relief; his father generally spent a few days in the apartment while he worked in his London office and then either returned to Oxfordshire for the weekend or his wife joined him in the city. His leaving at this time on a Friday confirmed that he was heading to the country, which meant that the boy would be free to burgle the apartment, with the theft unlikely to be noticed until Monday at the earliest.
He didn't enter the building immediately; Jack was waiting around the corner in the `borrowed' car and would follow the Bentley and make sure that it took the M40 when it left London; there was no point in taking any unnecessary risks. He wandered around for a while, not wanting to be seen hanging about but was back in place by the time Jack drove down the street, gave him a thumbs up and headed round the corner to wait for him.
Kieran took a deep breath, crossed the street, pulled out his keys and let himself into the building. There was an elevator to his left but he ignored it and took the stairs; the residents always used the elevator so he was less likely to meet anyone this way. He wasn't bothered if he was seen but didn't want to have to make any awkward explanations to neighbours who might know that his father and stepmother weren't at home. The apartment was on the top floor, the eighth; when the boy emerged from the stairwell he checked the corridor, found it to be empty and walked silently on the plush carpet towards the entrance.
Now came the first test, had his father changed the lock following his son's kidnapping? Kieran put his key into it, unlocked the door, slipped into the apartment and closed it behind him. There was a closet to his right and he opened this, revealing an electronic keypad with a blinking, red light which, if the correct code wasn't entered within thirty seconds, would stop blinking and the alarm would sound. The keypad had both letters and numbers and Kieran pressed the buttons that corresponded to his stepmother's three initials and then her date of birth. He held his breath for a second that seemed to last for ever and then the light turned green; the alarm had been successfully deactivated.
The boy headed straight for his father's study, a room that had a very retro feel and was dominated by an antique desk. There was also an old-fashioned fireplace with what appeared to be a solid fuel stove in it which was, Kieran knew, actually gas fired. Above the fireplace was a painting of a family group; Brendan O'Leary and his wife sitting side-by-side, each with one of their twin daughters on their knee and Brendan's eldest son, Patrick, standing behind them; Kieran was conspicuous by his absence. The painting was flush to the wall and was clearly hinged on one side; it didn't take a genius to work out that there was something behind it. The boy ignored it; he knew that there was a safe behind the picture but also knew that it was empty and would sound an alarm even if it was opened using the correct code; it was a decoy.
Instead he knelt down in front of the stove, felt underneath it until he located a tiny lever, operated it and slid the stove to one side, revealing the real safe behind it. The safe had an electronic keypad very similar to the one at the apartment entrance and it too had a blinking, red light which had been activated when Kieran had pressed the lever and, just as before, he had thirty seconds to enter the correct code. He remembered the first time that he'd seen his father use the safe; he'd been a small boy, playing with his toy cars on the study floor and he'd been fascinated by the moving stove and the secret compartment it concealed. Naturally he'd experimented with it at the first opportunity, as any curious boy would; he'd successfully found the lever and gained access to the safe but hadn't know the code, of course and the alarm had sounded, earning him a severe telling off. Much more recently he'd overheard his father telling his half-brother that the safe contained an emergency fund, "If anything happens to me they might freeze my bank accounts, Patrick. If so, there's five million in here; the lock works like the one for the apartment but the code is your mother's initials and date of birth." Kieran pressed the buttons, entering the details of his father's first wife, the true love of the man's life; the light turned green and the boy swung open the door to the safe.
The safe had three shelves, the top one contained jewellery that was probably worth tens of thousands of pounds but Kieran didn't give it a second thought; it would take time to sell, he'd never get anywhere near its real value and, worst of all, it would be traceable.
The second shelf had several bundles of banknotes, so the boy picked one up and examined it; they were used fifty pound notes and the serial numbers were all very different, making them untraceable. He roughly counted the bundle and reckoned there were a hundred notes, making five thousand pounds; with eight bundles in the safe, that made forty thousand pounds in total, a very welcome bonus. He removed all the bundles and packed them into the bottom of the bag that he'd brought with him.
The bottom shelf contained documents which were of no interest to Kieran but, when he moved them aside, he found what he'd come for; five hundred bearer bonds, each with a value of ten thousand pounds. Bearer bonds, as the name suggests, belong to whoever has possession of them; they are not registered to any individual and are therefore untraceable. Brendan O'Leary had them as his emergency fund for just that reason but once someone else gained possession of them, ownership passed to that person. The boy took the bonds, put them into his bag on top of the bundles of banknotes and then noticed a tray on the middle shelf that had been hidden behind the cash. The tray contained several small bags which Kieran knew contained drugs and, after a few moments thought, he picked one up and put in the pocket of his jeans.
The boy closed the safe, reset the alarm and returned the stove to its original position. He stood up and left the study but, instead of leaving the apartment, he entered his own bedroom, went over to the bedside cabinet and opened the bottom of its three drawers. The drawer was full of junk, a typical teen boy's collection of crap picked up from all over the world and Kieran began rooting through it. He almost gave up, thinking that the thing he was looking for wasn't there but eventually he found it and put it in the same pocket as the packet of drugs.
He took one final look around, set the apartment alarm and went out, closing the door behind him. He was just locking it when a voice at his back said, "Hey you, what do think you're doing?" He spun around in surprise to find the neighbour from across the hall standing there. The woman was the widow of the 6th Earl of Stratford and, when her stepson had inherited the title, she had been left to live out her remaining, lonely years in her apartment. Most of the block's residents kept to themselves but she took great pleasure in sticking her nose into other people's business, probably because she no longer had any social life worth talking about.
"Oh . . . err . . . hi Lady Stratford," Kieran replied.
"Hello Kieran, I didn't recognise you with that haircut. What are you doing here? Your dad said he was going to the country for the weekend."
"I'm . . . err . . . staying with a friend for the weekend. I just popped in to pick up some of my stuff." He held up his bag and smiled at the woman, just hoping that she'd go away.
"That's nice, I hope you have a lovely time," she said, finally entering her own home and closing the door. Kieran breathed a sigh of relief and hurried off down the stairs, left the building and walked quickly round the corner, where a very nervous Jack was waiting for him in the car.
"Did you get it?" he asked.
"Yeah, no problem," the boy replied, opening the bag and showing the man the bearer bonds.
"What kept you?"
"I was as quick as possible," Kieran responded, relaxing into the seat, "Come on; let's get the fuck out of here."
Back at the house, the boy removed the bonds from his bag and they counted them together, confirming that there were five hundred; then they divided them equally and Kieran put his pile back into his bag, covering the forty thousand in cash which he hadn't mentioned to Jack. They each went to their respective bedrooms to stash their loot and, when Jack came out to go back downstairs, Kieran said that he needed a shower and would join him soon for one final sex session.
As the man sat in the living room, listening to the shower running upstairs, he reviewed his plans. The boy was intending to leave the next day and Jack had let him believe that he was going to do likewise but actually he had very different plans. He had no intention of letting Kieran walk off with two and a half million quid; he was going to kill the boy and take it all for himself. He had given a fair bit of thought as to how to do it and had considered various methods before deciding on his strategy. The boy was like a zombie when he got up in the morning and always spent ages in the shower; the following day, when Jack heard him get up, he'd take the sharp, broad bladed knife from the kitchen, go upstairs, enter the bathroom and stab the boy to death. The bathroom was a complete wet room and Jack would be able to let the body bleed out and then wash all the blood away. He'd then wrap the body in a sheet, carry it down to the garage via the direct door and put it in the rear of the van. There was a spade in the garden shed and, after waiting until nightfall, he'd take the corpse to an isolated location that he knew of and bury it; he was confident that it would remain undisturbed there and that Kieran's final resting place would remain a mystery. He then intended to stash the money somewhere safe and remain at the house for a couple more weeks; the boy might feel that leaving straight away was the best option but Jack intended to let a bit of time pass before he made his move.
After his shower Kieran called Jack upstairs, they went into the master bedroom, settled down in a sixty nine position and began sucking one another's cocks. After a while the man lay on his back and lubed his erection, then the boy sat on top and impaled himself. He started moving up and down on it and then Jack took over and began to thrust into Kieran while the lad jerked himself off. A few minutes later, the boy's spunk splattered over the man's chest and stomach while he filled the lad's rectum in return. Kieran removed the softening cock from his arse, went to the bathroom to clean up and then went to bed. He lay there wondering what life held in store for him; a young man could have a lot of fun with a few million pounds he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.
Thursday 22nd September 2016
An Enfield couple made a horrifying discovery yesterday, when they returned home to find a decomposing corpse in their bed.
John Barnes and Simon Davidson, who are both ship's stewards, returned from a world cruise to find the man they had left to look after their home dead in their bed. They had asked their friend, Jack Simmons from South London, to keep an eye on their property while they were away.
"We asked him to drop in now and then, so we're not really sure why he was staying here," Mr Barnes said.
"Jack was a good friend of ours," Mr Davidson added. "It's come as a terrible shock to us both."
According to a police spokesman, Mr Simmons appeared to have died from a self-inflicted drugs overdose and had been dead for several weeks; although this would only be confirmed following a post mortem.
Although the death is not being treated as suspicious, police sources have revealed to The Standard that their enquiries have unearthed evidence that other serious criminal activity has taken place in the house during its owners' absence.
Police enquiries are continuing and Mr Barnes and Mr Davidson are staying with friends until they have been concluded.
rendan O'Leary gave a curt "Come in," in response to the knock on his study door and looked up from his desk as a tall, well-built man in his mid-forties entered the room. "Well Liam, what have you discovered?"
"Kieran's dead," the man said, without any preamble. "According to my sources, the cops have found a bloodstained knife and a spade in the back of the guy's van and DNA testing has confirmed that the blood is your son's. Simmons must've killed and buried him before overdosing on your fentanyl. They also found a home movie that seems to show him raping the boy."
"I don't know why he needed to do that; if he'd just asked I'm sure the little poofter would've said `yes please' and bent over for him. More importantly, where's my money?"
Now the man appeared to be uncomfortable, "I don't know," he replied, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact with his boss. "The cops don't seem to know anything about it and it's difficult to find out much without revealing why I'm asking."
"They haven't found it yet?"
"Simmons had a couple of hundred in fifties in his wallet but . . ."
"That's from the forty grand," O'Leary interrupted, "I'm not bothered about that, what about the bearer bonds? Where's my five million pounds?"
"He also had what appears to be a safe deposit box key in his possession but it only has a box number stamped on it, there's nothing to identify where the box might be. The cops have been round the major banks and hotels but haven't succeeded in locating the right box. The problem is, there are loads of smaller places with deposit boxes in London and there's no guarantee that it's even in the city."
"Are you trying to tell me that my money is in a safe deposit box somewhere and the only person who knows the location is dead?"
"Err . . . yes, that's about it."
"Fuck! That little gobshite stole my money, got his fairy arse raped and then got himself stabbed to death; finally, just to top things off, the feckin' eejit gave that pervert Simmons the drugs that killed him and now my five million's gone for good. There's no way he was any son of mine; that bitch of a mother of his must've been fuckin' around when he was conceived, I hope they both rot in hell."
Friday 18th November 2016
O'LEARY MEMORIAL SERVICE
A memorial service was held yesterday for Kieran O'Leary, the son of wealthy Oxfordshire financier Brendan O'Leary.
Although Kieran's body has not yet been recovered, police are certain that he was raped and murdered by psychopath Jack Simmons in early August. Simmons subsequently died from a self-inflicted overdose of what is believed to be a synthetic form of heroin and this has hampered attempts to discover the whereabouts of the boy's remains.
The service, at St Mark's church in their local village of Morecock, was attended by Mr O'Leary, his wife and three other children; and by numerous relatives and friends.
The priest, Father Thomas, described Kieran as an intelligent and caring boy who was loved by all those who knew him. "His family are devastated to have lost him in such terrible circumstances," he said. "There is great evil in the world but it is comforting to know that Kieran is now in a far better place."
Mr O'Leary, the owner of former Derby winner Erin Bhoy, called him, "The most wonderful son and brother, we are all heartbroken."
A very emotional former school friend, described Kieran as the best friend he'd ever had. "I loved him so much," he sobbed, "I just can't believe that I'll never see him again."
etective Chief Superintendent Harry Foreman indicated the seat in front of his desk and Detective Inspector Steve Nicholls nodded his thanks and sat down. "What have you come up with?" the DCS asked.
"I'll go through what we know and then I'll explain what we've deduced," the DI responded. "The first indication that something unusual was occurring came in late July, when numerous police informants reported that an underworld contract was out on a small time criminal called Jack Simmons. The word was, that he was possibly in the company of a teenage boy and, if so, then the boy wasn't to be harmed. Shortly after, the bodies of two known associates of Simmons, Bill and George Taylor, were discovered, the men having been tortured and killed.
"In early August something changed, because the instruction to spare the boy was withdrawn. Later that month, in a seemingly unrelated incident, Brendan O'Leary reported his son as missing. He said that the boy was gay and was believed to have gone off with an unknown man a month earlier. O'Leary claimed that the boy had done something similar once before but had returned a couple of weeks later and that was why he hadn't made the report sooner; he was making the report now because the boy was due back in school the following week.
"In September, Simmons' body was discovered in Enfield; the post mortem confirming that he'd died from an overdose of a synthetic opioid called fentanyl, basically man-made heroin. He was found in bed, naked with the TV on and connected to a computer which was playing a home movie on a constant loop. The movie showed the man apparently raping a young male who was later identified as Kieran O'Leary, the missing boy. Amongst Simmons' effects we discovered a quantity of cash in large denomination notes and what appeared to be a safe deposit box key, although there was nothing on the key to identify where the box itself might be found and, despite extensive enquiries, we have been unable to locate it. Simmons' van was discovered in the garage and, in the back of it, we found a spade and a bloodstained kitchen knife; the blood was later confirmed as belonging to the same boy.
"The picture quality of the home movie was fair but the sound quality was extremely poor so we had the lab boys enhance it for us and the result was startling. The boy was heard to say, `You said you'd let me go if I got you Dad's money,' to which Simmons responded, `That drug dealing bastard double crossed me and killed my mates. Now daddy's little boy is going to pay the price.'
"That's what we know. From that, we believe that sometime in mid to late July, Jack Simmons, together with Bill and George Taylor, kidnapped Kieran O'Leary for ransom. When the Taylors went to collect the money, they were captured, tortured and killed; then Simmons went to ground in Enfield, taking the boy with him. In early August Kieran appears to have carried out a burglary on one of his father's properties, probably the Belgravia apartment and to have stolen a quantity of cash which he handed over to Simmons; presumably in lieu of the ransom. While doing so, he also seems to have taken a quantity of the drug fentanyl which he also gave to the man under the impression that it was ordinary heroin.
"Subsequently, Simmons stashed the money in an unknown safe deposit box, raped and murdered the boy before burying his corpse and finally overdosed on the stolen drugs."
"That mostly makes sense," the DCS responded, "but why would the boy steal for Simmons?"
"There's a thing called the Stockholm Syndrome, where hostages develop positive feelings for their captors and can actually start working with them," the DI replied. "Things like that have happened before; in the US, Patty Hearst was kidnapped by a group calling themselves the Symbionese Liberation Army and ended up carrying out bank robberies with them."
"OK, I'll buy that but what about Brendan O'Leary? For all this to hang together the guy's got to be some sort of criminal mastermind, is that really feasible?"
"I've been liaising with the drug squad for the last few weeks and they've been convinced for some time that narcotics, particularly fentanyl, have been entering the country from Ireland and that a large, previously unknown, criminal organisation was behind it. O'Leary's background is extremely murky and it's perfectly reasonable to suppose that he's running the whole shebang. What we need now is the go ahead and the resources to carry out a full scale investigation into the man and his businesses."
"OK, there's nowhere near enough to charge him with anything yet but there's certainly enough to start an in depth investigation but be careful; if he's dirty we don't want to spook him but if he's clean and discovers that he's under investigation he could bring a whole pile of shit down on us."
Tuesday 7th March 2017
O'LEARY ARREST SENSATION
Multi-millionaire financier and Derby winning racehorse owner, Brendan O'Leary was sensationally arrested yesterday in a swoop by police narcotics officers.
Raids were carried out in London, Oxfordshire and north west England with simultaneous operations in Scotland and Ireland.
In Dublin, a Garda official announced that large quantities of a synthetic opioid called fentanyl worth several million euros had been discovered at a number of farms in the west of the country. These farms were apparently being used in the manufacture of the drugs.
Detective Chief Superintendent Harold Foreman of the Metropolitan Police said that Mr O'Leary was suspected of being the `Mr Big' behind a drug-smuggling ring that brought fentanyl into Britain from Ireland. The gang have been under secret surveillance for several months and yesterday's raids were the culmination of thousands of hours of careful police work. "We intend to bring charges of conspiracy to supply illegal narcotics and expect to bring murder charges as well," he told a press conference at New Scotland Yard.
Mr O'Leary has made a fortune with investments in the City of London but for many years dark rumours have circulated about how he made his money in the first place. He came from a poor background in Dublin's Northside but by the time he was twenty-five he was a millionaire with a home in London, an estate in Oxfordshire and a string of racehorses.
Readers might recall that Mr O'Leary's son, Kieran, was abducted and murdered last year by depraved sex killer Jack Simmons. The Mail understands that it was investigations into that case which provided the initial information that eventually led to yesterday's events.
he seat belt signs illuminated as the Tasmanian Air Services Boeing 737 started its descent into Hobart International Airport at the end of the two hour flight from Sydney. Flight attendant Robbie Patterson moved round his section of the cabin ensuring that all of `his' passengers were belted up and that all loose articles had been securely stowed. Although he tried to give equal attention to all of his charges, he couldn't help spending an extra few seconds speaking to the pretty blondtwenty-something in seat 12A. According to the passenger manifest, the young man was English and his name was Paul Whitlock; what didn't appear on that piece of paper was the guy's sexuality but Robbie's gaydar was acute enough to have worked that out for himself. It was against company rules for cabin crew to fraternise with passengers but Robbie was now single again, had a weekend off coming up in his hometown of Hobart and the good looking young man was on his own; so what the hell, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"Do you have plans for the weekend?" he asked. "Hobart can be a fun place and I'd be happy to show you around."
"Thanks for asking," the young man flashed a dazzling smile in response, "but my boyfriend's meeting me at the airport. He's emigrated out here and I'm going to be staying with him for a few weeks. If things work out as we plan, it'll hopefully become a permanent move."
Robbie gave the best smile that he could manage in the circumstances, wished Paul the best of luck and returned to his seat for the landing. He couldn't get the good looking young man out of his head, however and wondered what his boyfriend would be like. He was fairly sure that Paul was a bottom and reckoned that his partner would be an older man, probably in his thirties or possibly even older. He'd be tall, over six feet, dark haired and muscular; with a fucking huge cock of course. Whatever the man was like, Robbie was extremely jealous; this guy would be fucking the beautiful Paul and suddenly, the idea of picking up some spotty little twink in Flamingos had lost its appeal. Fortunately for Robbie, he was versatile and therefore had other options available to him. The captain of the flight also had the weekend off in Hobart; he was a Sydney native who was married with two grown-up children, happened to be bi and had been trying to get into Robbie's pants for some time. He had resisted the man's advances up 'til now, as he quite enjoyed the cat and mouse game that they played and knew that it would be a one night stand; once he'd been fucked, the guy would start looking elsewhere, ending his pursuit of Robbie. On the other hand, the man would take him to a smart restaurant for an expensive meal first, that would be part of the deal; and Robbie felt the need to be pampered to take his mind off the cutie who'd just turned him down.
When he said goodbye to Paul as he left the plane, Robbie wondered if he'd see the guy again; if he and his boyfriend chose to frequent Hobart's gay scene, then it was more likely than not. As it happened, it occurred sooner than he expected, because he found himself behind Paul as they emerged into the arrivals hall. Robbie looked at the people waiting for friends and family, trying to spot a man who fitted his imagined view of the boyfriend but no-one that he could see matched that description. Paul too seemed to be struggling to spot his partner, because he paused, looked around and then headed towards a youngster who was clearly still in his teens. Robbie couldn't believe that this kid could possibly be Paul's boyfriend but the pair embraced and, as he passed them, Robbie overheard their initial exchange.
"Hey Tiger, it's great to see you," Paul said.
"And you Fluff," the younger of the pair replied, "I'm so pleased that you decided to come over."
Robbie smiled at the cute nicknames and walked on, moved out of earshot and therefore didn't hear any more of their conversation.
"Hey, I seem to remember saying that I'd come running when you made your first million. I just didn't expect you to do it before your sixteenth birthday. Mind you, I'm still not sure that I should've come."
"I'm still angry with you," Paul explained, "I really thought you were dead, I even cried at your memorial service."
"Yeah, I know," Kieran replied, with a sheepish grin, "I read about it in the on-line edition of the Oxfordshire Guardian. I didn't have any choice in the matter, though; the only way I could make this whole thing work was to convince everyone that I'd been killed."
"How did you pull it off?"
"Come on, let's go to the car, I'll explain on the way home."
They put Paul's bags into the car, a BMW 430i, smart and sporty without being too ostentatious, climbed in and set off along the Tasman Highway towards the city. On the way Kieran, or Matt as he now insisted on being called, told Paul about the kidnapping, how he'd managed to use sex to get on the right side of Simmons and then convinced the man not to kill him in return for a share of the five million pounds.
"The first morning in the Enfield house, I went to the bathroom and started the shower but then realised that my toothbrush was still in the bedroom. When I went to get it, I heard Simmons on the phone to his contact who sorted out the new IDs. He was one of those people who talk loudly on the phone and I clearly heard him tell the guy that he was going to kill me once he had the money; put me into `a hole in the ground' was how he worded it."
"Nice guy," Paul replied, sardonically.
"Yeah, he was a criminal and a kidnapper; it was no great surprise to discover that he wasn't trustworthy. I decided there and then that it was him or me and that I'd have to get him first; when I discovered that he was a small scale heroin user, I knew how I could do it. When I lifted the bearer bonds I also took some of Dad's personal stash of fentanyl; he doesn't use drugs himself but keeps them for friends when he has parties. He had bags of cut drugs, ready for use and others of pure, uncut stuff, I took one of those. Back at the house I said I needed a shower and took the opportunity to mix some of it with Simmons' own drugs; that night he took his usual small fix before he went to sleep but it was many times more potent than he was used to and he overdosed, when I got up in the morning he was dead in bed."
"Wasn't that murder, Tiger?"
"Probably, according to the law but to me it was both justice and self-defence. He was a kidnapper and rapist; I might've gone along with the sex stuff and even enjoyed some of it but it was through necessity not choice. There's no way that a fifteen-year-old boy can be said to have given consent in those circumstances. Then, when I'd saved his life and given him the opportunity to gain far more money than his share of the ransom, he got greedy and planned to kill me and take the lot. I'm not in the least sorry about what I did."
"How did you fake your own death?"
"I had already convinced him to make a home porn movie that supposedly showed him raping me and I set this up to play on the TV in the bedroom, to make sure that the police linked him with me; the dialogue I wrote also incriminated Dad, so it was two birds with one stone. I got a kitchen knife, cut myself and smeared the blood over the blade; then put it in the back of Simmons' van along with a spade, to make it appear as if I'd been stabbed and buried.
"Finally I had to make the money `disappear'. A few years ago we went on holiday to Mauritius; Dad never trusted hotel rooms, so he got a safe deposit box for our valuables. I was just a kid at the time and asked for one too; the girl at reception gave me a box key but, when we checked out, it was forgotten and I took it home. When I was in the apartment I went to my bedroom and picked it up; later I removed the label that identified the hotel, put it with Simmons' stuff and stuck a few of the fifty pound notes in his wallet. With that and the dialogue in the movie, I hoped the cops would assume that I'd taken cash from Dad, given it to Simmons and that he'd put most of it in a deposit box somewhere. They wouldn't know about the bearer bonds but, when Dad heard, he would hopefully assume that they were in the deposit box as well; best of luck to them trying to find where the box really is.
"I destroyed and dumped Simmons' new ID documents and the phone he'd been using during the kidnapping so there's no link to my new identity unless the guy who provided it comes forward and he's hardly likely to do that."
"What did you really do with the money? How did you get set up here?" Paul asked.
"I registered a holding company in Panama, with an entirely fictional ownership and put all of the five million into it. Next I rented a property in the Cayman Islands under my new ID to establish residency and opened a bank account; then I created what purported to be a software development company in Britain of which I, a non-UK resident, was the sole owner. I then had the holding company buy the other one from me for five million pounds, minus a few fees and pay the money into my new, off-shore account; it then had a single, worthless asset and I was a software development engineer who'd sold up and made his fortune, tax free. Last week I closed down the holding company, so neither of them now exists but, if anyone asks, I've got genuine documents to show that I made the money legitimately. I applied to come out here and the Aussies were delighted to have me, wealthy entrepreneurs are just what they're looking for. I'm now set up here with a nice home and over seven and a half million dollars in the bank; my residency application has already gone through and I'll take out Australian citizenship before my passport needs to be renewed."
"What about us?"
"I'd love for you to stay with me, this is a fairly gay-friendly place and, the way things are going, we'll probably be able to get married here soon; if you want that of course. Does your old man know that you're gay yet?"
"Yeah, he did his nut when I got so emotional at your memorial service and called me just about every homophobic insult known to man. I was so pissed off that I came right out and told him that I was gay and proud of it and he told me to fuck off. Being on my own and penniless was even worse than I thought it would be and, if you hadn't contacted me, I dread to think what I might've done. I can't think of anything better than staying here with you and marriage sounds like a great idea."
They were now in the city, driving along Davey Street; Matt turned onto Sandy Bay Road and headed away from the centre, until the road climbed away from the river and he turned left into the drive of a medium sized property. The house was pleasant without being spectacular and would be very comfortable, possibly even a little on the large side, for two. They went inside and Paul walked through until he emerged onto a large terrace with a fantastic view across the River Derwent and steps down to the golden beach that gave the area its name. He turned to Matt and they embraced, before he said, "It's great Tiger, I think living here will be fun. There's just one thing that I need to check out though."
"What's that Fluff?"
"Our bedroom, of course."
They were practically tearing their clothes off as they entered the bedroom; each had been with other boys and men since Paul had left school but, despite their best intentions, they hadn't managed to make love with one another in that time. Although they'd met more than once during that period, the opportunity for sex had never arisen, so now almost four long, frustrating years were about to be consigned to history.
The two young men were obviously much closer in size than they had been aged twelve and seventeen; the twenty one-year-old Paul was 5'8" and a slim 150 pounds, whereas, after a recent growth spurt, the nearly sixteen-year-old Matt was now 5'7", around 140 pounds and still growing. The younger of the pair was naked first, grabbed his partner around the waist as he was still trying to remove his underpants and dragged him onto the bed, where they began wrestling. Although a little smaller, Matt was the more naturally aggressive of the pair, as well as being the top in the relationship and quickly subdued his willing partner. He then removed Paul's underpants, moved on top of him in a sixty nine position and they began to fellate one another.
Paul's cock hadn't changed much since Matt had last seen it, now just under six inches but his own had grown from a three inch pre-pubescent boy-cock to a nearly seven inch man-cock and Paul took it into his mouth with relish. They were both far more experienced and skilled than before and each licked, sucked and deep throated the other to the inevitable, rapid orgasm.
Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, while they kissed and caressed; each getting reacquainted with his lover's body and, in Paul's case particularly, discovering all the changes that had occurred in the intervening years. Before long they were both erect again and Matt took control, moving his partner into a prone position, settling behind him and beginning to rim his arse; proving that his time with Simmons had provided him with more than just money. He had greatly enhanced his sexual knowledge during that brief period and he was eager to practice what he had learned and improve his technique. Paul's moans suggested that he was doing the right thing and encouraged him to continue, his tongue soon pushing through his partner's anal defences and eliciting ever louder moans and whimpers.
Matt had done a creditable job for his first attempt at analingus but he soon tired and, with his cock now leaking pre-cum, it was time to move on to the next stage. He picked up a tube of KY from the bedside cabinet and applied a liberal amount to his penis, while Paul turned onto his back, raised his legs and held them in place with a hand behind each knee. Matt then used a finger to lube his lover's hole, with a second and then a third digit being added to stretch him out. At last he took his cock in his right hand, lined up with Paul's pucker and pressed in, while his partner relaxed and pushed out. Matt's cockhead slipped through his lover's sphincter with surprising ease and the muscle clamped down onto his shaft just behind it. Paul gasped slightly as he was penetrated but, within a couple of seconds, the brief stab of pain had diminished and he smiled at the boy and indicated that he should continue.
Matt needed no second invitation and pressed forward once more, his cock moving inexorably into Paul's chute until he was fully inserted, with his lower body pressed against his partner's buttocks. Then he began to move back and forth with long, slow strokes, his glans rubbing over Paul's prostate each time, driving the young man into ecstasy. Gradually he speeded up and shortened his strokes, changing the angle so that his cock was hitting Paul's gland rather than rubbing it which, had he continued in this vein, would've brought each of them to climax in fairly short order. Instead, when he felt himself getting close, he stopped for a few moments until the crisis had passed and then returned to longer, slower strokes for a while.
Matt continued to alternate his tempo, continually bringing them both close and then backing off, until they could stand it no longer; he then gave in to his lust and pounded away with long, fast thrusts, just as he had the very first time that they'd made love and he'd earned the soubriquet `Tiger'. The boy came first, squirting his second load of the afternoon into Paul's rectum, while he climaxed a few seconds later after jerking his cock half a dozen times. Matt slumped forward on top of his partner and they kissed passionately, before declaring their undying love for one another; the truth of which was proven, when they moved back into a sixty nine position and Paul cleaned Matt's cock while his lover sucked his own cum out of the other's hole, before they kissed once again, sharing the fruits of their lovemaking.
They lay entwined in each other's arms while they recovered, before heading to the bathroom to have a shower and clean up. When that was done, they collected Paul's bags from the car and he unpacked; putting his things away in what he already thought of as his home. By the time he had finished it was after seven o'clock and he realised that he was hungry but Matt was showing no signs of preparing dinner; before he could ask, however, his partner told him to dress smart/casual as they were going to eat out.
It was late March and the Tasmanian summer was coming to an end but, at 25°C, it had been a warm day and, for two Englishmen, it was still a pleasant evening, so they decided to walk to their destination, which was only about a kilometre away. They walked along the riverside, with their arms around one another, until they came to the seventeen storey, round tower of the Wrest Point Hotel and took the elevator to the top floor, revolving restaurant.
As they settled into their seats at the pre-booked table for two and perused the menu, Matt was surprised to see Paul acknowledge someone behind him; he hadn't expected his boyfriend to know anyone in Hobart and turned around, looking over his shoulder, to see who was there. A family of four were at the nearest table but the next one over was occupied by two men, a good looking guy in his late twenties and a handsome, older man with greying hair; the younger one was smiling at him and it was clearly him that Paul recognised.
"Who are they?" Matt asked.
"The younger guy was the flight attendant on the plane today," Paul replied. "I don't know who the other one is."
"Fancy him, do you?" Matt had a twinkle in his eye as he asked this.
"No, of course not; you know I prefer younger guys. I think he likes me though, he propositioned me on the flight."
"He obviously has a much wider age of attraction than you do," Matt observed, as the waiter approached to take their orders.
The meal was excellent and each enjoyed a glass of wine with their main course; Paul a New Zealand sauvignon blanc with his fish and Matt an Australian shiraz with his rib-eye steak. Matt had to produce his passport, as his age was queried but this was something he had become used to; he was, after all, an almost sixteen-year-old masquerading as an eighteen-year-old. They were eating dessert when the other two guys got up to go, stopping at Matt and Paul's table on their way out.
"We're going to have a couple of cocktails before we leave," the elder of the pair said, "If you guys would like to join us in the Birdcage Bar, you'd be very welcome."
Matt looked at Paul, who nodded his assent and then replied, "Thank you, we'd like that. We'll see you there as soon as we've finished our meal."
When they arrived downstairs Matt bought drinks, a cocktail for Paul and a soft one for himself and they joined the other two, who were already seated with drinks of their own. Introductions were made and they discovered that the older man was Andrew Stevens, ("call me Andy"), who was an airline pilot.
"What brings you two young men out here?" he asked.
This gave Matt the opportunity to try out his cover story, a combination of as much of the truth as possible with just enough fabrication to suit his new identity. "Paul and I met at school and became lovers, even though he was three years older than me," he started, adjusting his age by the requisite amount.
"I've always preferred younger guys," Paul added.
Matt spotted the little grimace of disappointment on Robbie's face and smiled inwardly. "Paul left school and went to university but I decided to set up my own software company when I left, as I had an idea for a new business tool. Most big companies use the major software providers and get ripped off with sky high prices but it's difficult for a new outfit to break into the market. Smaller companies are willing to take a cheaper option but you have to keep prices low and profit margins are reduced as a result.
"When a Panamanian holding company offered three million pounds for my company I couldn't believe it; five million was the best I could hope for in total revenue according to my business model, with profits likely to be much lower. Then I realised that even if sales were at the mid-point of my projections, the loss to the major company that I'd be up against, at their prices, would probably exceed ten million; with the chance of even greater losses if my product really took off. Clearly they used a front to buy me out and remove potential competition without any publicity; their shareholders will probably never know about it, the money will have been `borrowed' from R&D funds or something. I turned down their first offer and the second, eventually accepting five million."
"You sure landed on your feet there," Andy responded. "Why have you come to Tasmania.
"I came here on holiday with my family several years ago and loved the place," Matt replied. "Paul and I wanted to get away from Britain and we both enjoy a quiet life but his complexion doesn't suit a hot climate so Hobart seemed ideal; the fact that it's also gay-friendly sealed the deal." Of course he didn't mention that getting as far away from his vengeful father as possible, somewhere he'd be extremely unlikely to be recognised was his primary goal.
They chatted for a while longer and realised that Robbie was becoming a friend, someone that they were going to see a lot more of in the future and who would introduce them to other members of Hobart's LGBT community. Andy, on the other hand, would most likely disappear from their lives after tonight, although they had enjoyed his company and told him that he was welcome to visit any time that he had time off on the island. He bought a round of drinks for them all and Matt responded in kind before Robbie suggested that it was time to leave; he was ready to get fucked. Paul, who was a little tipsy by now, obviously felt the same way but Matt had other ideas in mind.
As they walked home with their arms wrapped around one another, Paul said, "Your story was very good, you almost had me convinced."
"As long as we don't meet someone who's an expert on business software we should be OK," Matt replied. "The longer we're here, the less interest other people will take in what we did before, so it's the first year or two that will be most dangerous."
When they arrived back at the house, Paul grabbed Matt by the hand, pulled him to the bedroom and asked, "Are you ready to fuck me again?"
"Don't you want to have sex?" a puzzled Paul responded.
"I didn't say that. I know that you prefer to bottom but would you mind fucking me sometimes?"
"Really? I thought you liked to top."
"I do but occasionally I want us to switch, especially if we play kinky games."
"What sort of games?"
Matt reached under the bed and pulled out a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs, "Hostage games," he replied, with a grin.
Matt was on his knees at the edge of the bed, hands handcuffed behind his back, with his blindfolded and gagged face pressed against the duvet. Paul was standing behind him, holding his lover's hips and driving his slim, not quite six inch cock in and out of Matt's tight hole. It was strange, under normal circumstances neither would have particularly enjoyed the switch of roles but the addition of the restraints changed the dynamic and each of them found that he was excited by it.
It was noisy in the bedroom; Paul's grunts and groans, together with Matt's muffled moans, combined with the sucking sounds of the pistoning cock and the slapping of skin on skin, to create a cacophony of sound that screamed, SEX. Paul felt as if his balls were drawing up to his body as his orgasm approached and he reached around Matt's body with his right hand, grasped his lover's cock and began to jerk it furiously, trying to bring them to a simultaneous climax. He almost succeeded, his own orgasm hit and he gave a yell and one final thrust as filled Matt's rectum with spunk; two strokes later his partner came as well, shooting his load across the bed as he did so.
Paul released Matt's hands then removed his blindfold and gag, before they slumped down on the bed and snuggled into one another's arms. "Are you OK?" he asked.
"Yeah, that was great," Matt responded. "Doing it like that really turns me on but you put much more effort into making me cum than Simmons did and that made it even better."
"How often do you want to do it like that?"
"I'm not sure, once a week maybe. I still want to fuck you most of the time; I'm a top first and foremost."
"Good. I'll happily play kidnapper once a week as long as you shag me senseless on the other six days. By the way, isn't there a name for it when a hostage falls for their captor?"
"Yeah, it's called The Stockholm Syndrome."
The Daily Telegraph
Wednesday 18th October 2017
O'LEARY GETS LIFE
Disgraced financier Brendan O'Leary was sentenced to life in prison yesterday, after being found guilty on three counts of murder and conspiracy to supply illegal narcotics.
At the end of a three week trial, the jury found both O'Leary and his fellow defendant Liam Fallon guilty on all charges. O'Leary's son Patrick was also convicted on the conspiracy charges but was acquitted of two counts of murder. Like O'Leary, Fallon was sentenced to life, while Patrick O'Leary received ten years in prison.
It was police investigations a year ago into the abduction and murder of O'Leary's younger son, Kieran, which first uncovered evidence of his involvement in the drugs trade and the gangland killings of Bill and George Taylor. When his bodyguard, Gerry Flannery, turned Queen's Evidence he was also charged with the murder of his second wife, Kathy, the mother of Kieran. According to Flannery O'Leary instructed Fallon to kill his ex-wife, which he did by causing a fatal car accident. Patrick O'Leary was not accused of involvement in the death of his stepmother.
After the trial, Detective Chief Superintendent Harold Foreman of the Metropolitan Police announced that steps were being taken to seize those assets of O'Leary's which came from drug dealing. "It will take a considerable amount of time to separate the legal from the illegal, as they are so intricately entwined; but we expect the final sum to be in the tens or maybe even hundreds of millions of pounds; making it by far the largest seizure in British legal history."
© Hugh Cox 2018
Please remember that this tale is entirely fictitious. I have no idea what events might take place at either Hobart Town Hall or The Salamanca Inn on March 24th but they are in no way linked to this story or any of its characters.
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