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Message-ID: <20051202012027.78987.qmail@web52608.mail.yahoo.com>
From: T Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Out In The Wild, Wild West" 14 (M/M oral anal bdsm fanfic)
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===================

The following story is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a
sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships
offends you, then you should not read this story.
Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in
most state and countries, you are not allowed to read
this story by law. This is fiction. Do not forget, in
real life, to think about 'sexual safety matter'; got
condom?

"Out In The Wild, Wild West" 14 (M/M oral anal bdsm
fanfic)
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Couldnt wait till quitting time, could you Grady?

Huh? 

Standing there, behind the desk, twenty-six year old
Michael Grady moved his hips back and forth.

Oh thought I would skip the fifteen minute break
and

No need to explain, Grady.

Braedon stood at the front of the desk, watching
Foxworths expression, as Grady slowly and steadily
enjoyed the slow fuck. 

The man eyeing up the action, is Captain John
Skinner, Braedon introduces the two.

Havent seen you in a long time, John, Grady offers
his hand, keeping the vigilant fucking, going.

However, Skinners hand is too busy rubbing Gradys
smooth ass cheeks.

I take it you two have already met?

Yeah, Captain Skinner lets on, missed diving for
sunken treasure, Grady!

Braedon informs Skinner, Ah, its not Grady whom I
was referring to, John.

Oh? Then, leaning in, sticking his tongue in
Michaels ear, he asks, How about taking a cruise
with me, Mike?

Hes married, Braedon informs John.

Married? Skinner shouts. When the fuck you go and
do that, Grady?

This past year.

What a fuckin total waste of man!

Laughing, Braedon knows exactly what Captain Skinner
refers. Even though he came here to show Skinner his
new cabin boy, hes been eyeing up the twenty-six year
old, with his extended fucking tool. He begins to get
aroused, staring at the handsome, bearded security
man, the medium brown patch of hair, midchest,
swirling around the Irishmans nips, the defined trail
cutting his muscled abs in half, fanning out over his
deep bellyhole, the dark pubes, nestled around his
implanted fucktool. Not being able to contain himself,
Braedon opens up his pants, splaying the flaps back,
removing his semi-soft ten-inch shaft. 

Out of gratitude, Grady starts backing out, offering,
If you want, Brae, I can take an oral?

Waving his hand, as if saying, never mind, Braedon
grabs Foxworths head of hair, lifting his head off
the desk, ordering, Open up, scumbag!

Hey now, wait a minute! Captain Skinner protests.

Oh, thats right, Braedon replies, backing the tip
of his now hard shaft out, I promised you a sample,
didnt I John?

By this time, Skinner has rounded the desk, stroking
his meat, getting it ready for a sensuous blowjob. It
is apparent that Foxworth is more awestricken, as he
watches the sea captain firm up his cock, which looks
longer than Braedons.

Ahhhhhhhhhh Captain Skinner sighs, feeling the hot
mouth on his shaft. 

In the meantime, Braedon has circled round the other
side of the desk.

Like the goods, John?

So far. Let you know when I fuck his throat.

Yeah, you let me know, John. Bend over, Grady.

With a glint in his eye and a hand pushing against
Michael Gradys back, Braedon winks. Michael freely
assumes the position, his chest against Foxworths
back. Braedon spits in his hand then works Michaels
ass with his fingers.

Heeeey, thats not fair! Skinner complains.

Laughing, Braedon begins poking Michael in the ass,
with his ten-inch rod.

I couldve done that! Skinner says, hands on hips,
as he sinks deeper down Foxworths throat.

Wanna bet? Michael informs the captain. The only
man that uses my ass is Braedon Murphy and dont you
forget that, Skinner!

%

By the time Steve Connors nears the end of his tale,
getting kidnapped by the band of white men, seeking
their objective, mainly to capture James West, the two
boys have traded the piss-soiled shirt back and forth
ten or so times.

Calling up to his father on the horse, Stormy asks,
Pop?

Yes, son, Steve looks down at the two, answering his
son.

Im not sure how to put this question to you

Only right way, is to fire away, son.

Smiling, Stormy fires away, Pop, I didnt know Well,
how did you Hmm

Is this about me being stripped, hanging by my arms
and being used? Steve Connors finally guesses the
bdsm nature of his sons query.

Um yeah. I never had an idea that you could like
something like that.

As the two nineteen year olds, walking side by side,
lean on each others shoulders, Steve explains,
Actually wasnt my first time, son.

The two teens look at each other, and then Stormy
asks, It wasnt. When did you first do it?

Steve Connors went on to give a concise history of the
discipline that enveloped his growing up years, the
domineering father, in a motherless world. He touched
on the subject of ways in which his father would deal
out corporal punishment, for even the slightest of
infractions. Migrating towards the subject of his
early teen years, he told of being hoisting up in the
barn and taking a whipping, while stripped from the
waist up. As time progressed, the pants came down.
Often, he would still be hanging there, by his arms,
as the sun set, not receving released from his bondage
until evening hours. He brought up the subject of how
his fathers drinking began to play a role in the
abuse, even if an offense had not created the
mistreatment.

Gosh, Im sorry pop.

Even Jake offered, Sounds like you had it rough, Pop
I mean Steve I mean, Mr. Connors.

Giggling, Stormy tells him, You can call him Pop.
Even guys that arent his son, call him that.

I think Ill stick with Steve, thanks.

Suit yourself, then.

Stormy wondered why Jake shied away from the paternal
greeting. Seemed like he struck a sensitive nerve,
with his suggestion. 

Rubbing Jakes shoulder, Stormy offered, Talk about
it sometime?

Yeah, maybe, Jake left it as.

I think I see something! Steve Connors shouted,
jumping down from the steed, crouching. 

In the distance, settled along the horizon, a huge
compound, resembling a wooden fort appeared. Its
obvious that the party ahead of Steve, Stormy and
Jake, had already been taken in.

%

All of the prisoners were led away, through passages
unknown. Left at the entrance of the compound,  stood
Caligula and his slave, Hastiin and James West. Robert
Birch returned, after a few minutes.

He informs Caligula, Looks like you get your wish,
Caligula.

My wish?

Weve been ordered to escort West to your torture
chamber.

Caligulas eyes lit up immediately. 

Oh my! You have made me a very happy man, Robert! He
replied to the wonderful surprise, as if offering the
gift of a lifetime. 

Robert smiled, as Caligula rubbed his shoulder. 

Youre going to like this even more, Caligula, Birch
said, looking to James.

Oh?

No limits.

Earlier, Caligula had sensed something casual between
Robert Birch and James West. Now he wasnt too sure.
The way Birch made it sound is that he looked forward
to the torture session as much as the tall brown man.

%

Akkkkakkkkkooooooohhhhhahhhhhhhhhh!

Braedon should have removed his shirt, instead of only
dropping his pants, to implant his nine-inch fucktool
in Michael Gradys tight ass. He sweated profusely, by
the time he rammed it in and out, then shooting his
second load of the day.

Oh manooooh fucking man is your ass hot, Michael!

Michael, following the gangbanging, the massaging his
prostrate just took, had followed through on the same,
shooting his load deep into Foxworth. A bit delayed,
but still turned on by the display before him, Captain
John Skinner unloaded his churning balls down
Foxworths gullet. A mixed scent of sweating men,
permeated the office. 

Removing his cock from Foxworths impaled throat,
Captain Skinner shooed the two hung over men from
the rear.

Cmon, move it, gents. Got another load ready for my
new cabin boy!

Braedon fell back in the tall leather chair, followed
by Michael, sitting on his lap.

Oooooh, Braedon sighed, as Michaels ass touched his
soggy erection.

Hottest break Ive ever taken, Grady replied,
turning his head, Braedon's lips matching up with his.

As the twenty-five and twenty-six year olds began
making out, Skinners hand worked his soft cock into a
semi-erect stage, then fed it into Foxworths already
primed hole.

%

The timbers left near the high, wooden double-gated
door to the compound, two cuffed captives proceeded to
a lower room, carved out of the walled-in canyon,
ushered by their masters.

What do you suggest first, Caligula? Robert
inquires, removing his shirt, exposing his fine
display of chest hair, a wide trail of dark brown fur
down his stomach.

I think I suggest we work on West, first?

It had been obvious, Caligulas intensions, as he
watched the tall brown man take Hastiin over to a
pole, lift his arms and hook his joined wrist cuffs
over a metal spike, binding him, back to the wooden
stake.

No sense, being uncomfortable, Robert said,
stripping off his boots, and then dropping his pants,
removing them, as well as his undergarments,
boxer-like briefs.

While the two men readied themselves for their play,
wreaking havoc on Jims body, he stood there, watching
the two in their preparations, his leather cuffed
wrists, joined, locked down to a large ring, embedded
in a large, rounded trunk of wood. As he watched, he
first noticed Birchs thick, juicy cock spring out,
when he removed the undergarments. Licking his lips,
Jim thought how tasty it would be, after the long
desert hike. When Robert turned his back, as he
chatted with Caligula, Jims eyes began to wander
about the chamber. 

Oh shit! He exclaimed to himself.

His surveying began taking into focus, the instruments
of torture and the bondage furniture, made to hold a
mans body in place, as his tormentors toys would
be utilized. West, even though he asserted his
situation for escape, an impossibility for the moment,
looked about to see where cracks in the security could
be breeched, for the possibility of his quick leave.
For now, he did not see many. 

Where brought in, a heavy metal door stood and now it
had been closed. The only other opening way had been
another door, which he had no idea where it led to. He
backtracked, looking towards a flat table, standing a
couple of yards away. Attached to the sides of the
table, a large set of wheels embraced one end. With a
broad knowledge of history, part of his education for
the position, he recognized it as a rack. Even though
he pictured it, in his mind, as an instrument of great
pain, he became edgy to feel his arms stretched out on
it, high above his head, his body stretching beyond
the limits. He began getting hard, thinking about the
pain of having his body taut, bound to his captors
imagination. Suddenly, he broke from his fantasy, as
he felt a hand on his cock.

Ah, I can see that the rack fascinates you, Mr.
West.

Jim didnt respond, not giving Caligula the
satisfaction of knowing his feelings. His betrayal
already came, in the leaky shaft; the slimy goo
protruding out of the slit, at his tormentors touch
began milking the nine-inch shaft.

Unlocking the wrist cuffs from the block, Caligula
called out to his thirty-five year old accomplice,
Robert, choose your weapon of assault and bring along
the bullwhip for me!

Not wanting to seem too willing, even though Jims
balls churned with excitement, he put up a fight, as
Caligula tried subduing the secret agent. A quick
double punch to the brown mans abs, proved futile,
resulting in a chuckle. The opposite and more than
equal response, Caligulas one big fist, driven into
Jims stomach, made him belch out loudly, sending him
into a fetal position, on the stone floor.

West, giving you a problem, Caligula? Robert
inquires, knowing the answer.

I know West can take more than that. Now I toy with
him. I give West a big problem now!

Taking the bullwhip from Robert, the two haul Jim up
off the dungeon floor. Taking over the handling,
Robert Birch holds Jims arms behind his back, his
cuffed wrists separated, marching him across the room.
At times stumbling, Birchs strength keeps Jim from
falling flat on his face. 

In an act of humiliation and intent to stun the
imagination, Caligula cracks the bullwhip, snapping
the leather tool of laceration, against itself. 

Here is good? Birch calls out.

Arriving at the wide area, where two separate hooks
hang from the ceiling, Robert calls out, How do you
want West?

Observe, Caligula calls out. 

Looking deeply into James eyes, Caligula searches
down deep to his soul. After hanging the uncoiled
bullwhip around Wests neck, the tall brown captor
breaks his gaze. Taking the left, leather wrist cuff,
he pulls on it. Simultaneously, Robert releases James
left arm, as Caligula forces it up and over the hook.
The same procedure done for the right leather cuff.

I think we are all ready for Wests torture!
Caligula calls out, intent on Jim hearing the words of
threat.

His comments follow the hoisting of two chains, both
separating Jims arms, pulling them out both
horizontally and vertically. He gears it so that Jims
feet lift up off the stone floor, the back of his
soles off the cold pavement, his toes barely touching.

Caligula and Robert stand behind, observing James
Wests perfectly symmetrical features. A large hand
caresses the shoulder blades.

What a pity to waste such a smooth surface! Caligula
says, adding, Are we Ready, Robert?

Youre whip? Robert replies.

Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk! James cries out in pain, as
Robert, standing in front of him, he cruelly pulls the
leather torturing apparatus from around the neck,
leaving a burning we

Chortling, Caligula, taking the bullwhip from Roberts
gloved hand, speaks to the bound captive, Oh, thats
a weak sample of what youre about to feel, Mr. West.

If Jim only knew what the plan had been, he might have
hoped he started his torture session on the rack.
There, the thirty-five year old Secret Service agent
remained, cuffed and restrained with his arms
stretched wide and high up. His bondage position
exposing every area of his body for possible torment. 

Behind him, the tall brown man stood, eyeing up his
first lash of attack, against Jims smooth back.
Standing in front, Robert Birch thought out his plan
of attack, as well. As Caligula had explained, right
after the lash of the bullwhip landed against Wests
back, he instructed Birch to heave his fist into
Wests stomach. He went on further to explain that he
hoped to keep Wests body in motion; the pain of the
whiplash would keep the body swinging forwards and the
impact of Birchs fist would return the body
backwards, for another ensuing lash. In additional to
all of this, Robert had picked out for himself, a pair
of leather gloves, containing metal studs, visible on
the knuckles area.

True to Caligulas hopes, when the bullwhip struck the
target, about five inches lower than James Wests
shoulders, it wrapper around, caressing his body,
nearly connecting with his ribs. 

Now! Caligula shouted out, directly after the sound
of the bullwhip striking Jims back.

Ugggggnnnnhhh! Jim belched, his body slacking
backwards.

Then the terrifying scream came from Jims vocal
chords, right after the sound of the bullwhip slashing
across his back, Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!

Birchs fist made another impact.

Ugggggghhhhhggnnnn! Jim cried out, as his stomach
caved in.

Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk! He screamed, as the bullwhip
cut his flesh, swinging his body forwards.

Sometimes Robert would anticipate the lash, punching
above Jims navel too soon. No loss, he figured,
getting in two punches. Instead of one, giving him the
old heave-ho, gut punching him with his right fist,
then heaving the left metal studded glove into his
abdominal cavity. It didnt put a dent in Caligulas
continual onslaught, with the bullwhip.

Robert had gotten in far more than Caligulas twenty
or so lashes, leaving Wests back a bloody mess of
gashes and welts. Interested to know how Wests gut
fared, he joined Robert at the chest side of Wests
body.

What do you think? Wests had enough?

For now, Caligula reported, picking up Jims head,
by his sweaty hair, and then letting it drop to his
equally sweaty chest fur, beaded with the salty
matter. 

Gloves worked nicely, Robert complimented.

Yes, Caligula replied, feeling up the bruised areas
of Jims gut.

Of course, Robert commented, with hands like yours,
you most likely dont need the assistance?

Would you like to see for yourself, Robert? Caligula
gestures, smiling.

Oh no. Im only a giver, if you know what I mean?

If you would like, I can give you a demonstration?
Caligula states, hinting at his bound slave.

Rather see how that new rack contraption works?
Robert replies, throwing an even bigger hint.

Oh no, as per orders

Oh yeah, forgot that the first time it is used, we
have to wait for West. Okay, why dont you show me
something else, with your boy?

Yes, but first. We dont want to leave Mr. West so
comfortable, do we?

Robert wondered what Caligula meant, but went along
with the idea. He watched as the tall brown man
brought over a cone like piece of wood. It resembled a
gigantic bullet. The top came to a dull point, the
volume of the rest, cylindrical and widening, till it
reached the stone floor. 

Do Caligula a favor, Robert and place this under Mr.
Wests ass?

Under?

The tip, Caligula placed two fingers on, at the
entrance to his hole?

Smiling, Robert went right to work, obliging, as his
cohort had gone back to a cupboard. Setting the object
slightly off balance, Robert rolled it over to where
it set, behind Jims ass. Parting his ass cheeks, he
worked it in between. Utilizing his own torso, as a
battering ram, he forced the bullet like object in
Wests ass crevice.

Very near passing out, he heard James faint sigh,
Ooooh which made Birch smile.

Returning, Caligulas hands had a slick, greasy look
to them.

Robert, raise West up a bit?

Going off to the side, Robert turned a crank, which
made James arms pull apart from each other. With the
last few ounces of strength Jim had, he flopped his
head back, his eyes wincing at the pain.

Caligula commented, Hold on, Mr. West. The best is
yet to come!

Slathering his hands over the top of the cone-like
bullet, Caligula also inserted two, then three fingers
into James ass, well greasing his chute.

Now, lower Mr. West, He instructed Robert. 

Slowly, Robert turned the crank, asking, And let me
know when enough is enough!

Never enough for West! Caligula joked.

To help with the ass impalement, Caligula bent down,
lifting a ring from the floor.

What do you have there? Birch asked, securing the
chain for the arm movement.

I think we need to help the bullet along. Its not
advancing as much as I had planned!

To continue the harassment of Jims ass, they attached
leather cuffs to his ankles. Then, attaching chains
and feeding them through the two metal loops in the
floor, the two busied with attaching the loops from
the ends of the chains to wheels, at the sides of the
wall. Each turning a lever caused the chains to pull
at the ankle cuffs. Slowly Jims feet began to stretch
downwards, towards the floor, driving the bullet
upwards, between his ass cheeks.

%

Continued....

Copyright 2005 T. Luke McPhee
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.





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


	
		
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