A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 11

"Swallow it," Giovanni instructed firmly when Rayne defiantly tried to spit it in his face. He clamped his thumb down over the boy's nose, keeping his lips together. "Swallow it or I'll give you another load!"

Rayne pulled frantically on the wrist and ankle cuffs as he struggled to breathe. At last when he was beginning to turn blue, he yielded and swallowed the cooling semen on his tongue. It tasted sour and stale and he gagged a little as it went down. At the same time he felt Davide's hot juices fill his intestines from behind. The young Netherlander had a lovely long cock and in spite of his circumstances Rayne could feel his own body responding to the feel of that oiled, hard rod surging inside him. He closed his eyes. If he had to keep on looking at them he would cry and he refused to do that.

'Don't let them kill me,' he kept on thinking, focussing on that determined mantra as his humiliation proceeded. 'Just don't let them kill me. I'll do anything. I swear it. Don't let them kill me.'

INQUISITION:

Phil looked a little nervously at the group of men who had surrounded him as he entered the day room of Daniel Leland's yacht. He knew who Leland was, everyone on the Cap knew Leland by reputation if not in person. The pair who had been outside with Rayne's boyfriend were such stunning looking guys that they had to be movie stars. Phil thought he recognised the darker guy from some of the films he had watched. He felt rather overawed to be surrounded by so much talent but he kept his nerve as he related to the assembled strangers how Rayne had spent the earlier part of the day with him then set off, as he believed, back to the boat.

"I went out for a walk to get some milk and a few groceries and I came back the long way, up through the villas in Nature," he said, biting his lip as Ant paced back and forth with the crumpled sheets of paper in his hands, still studying them fervently. "I knew something was wrong when I found the doctor's letter."

"What made you suspicious?" Daniel Leland asked him solemnly. The elderly pornographer was sitting in a deep, white leather armchair, stroking his long, snowy beard as he studied Phil Honeywell. His pale grey eyes were unblinking, taking Phil in like twin cameras, recording everything he said and did.

"Umm... he... he seemed happy when he left. I think he was relieved. I dunno why he would throw it away. It doesn't make sense," the young man faltered, shaking his head. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I mean, if there had been a problem... yeah, he might have ditched it, but..." Phil shrugged his shoulders awkwardly.

"He was clean?" Leland asked gravely. "The test results, I mean? He showed you?"

"Yeah," Phil bit his lip again. "He was a bit freaked out, he didn't understand it all. I had a look for him. It was okay, I'm pretty sure."

"And that's all you can think about!" Ant muttered, still perusing the crumpled pages of the letter grimly. "He's clean! Oh good, now all we have to do is find him and you can get filming! Hoo-bloody-rah!"

"You don't have to be so vitriolic, Anthony. You're just as concerned, if not more," the older man said coolly. "You've not stopped reading that damned thing since Phil brought it here. Your conscience is easier now, yes?"

Ant looked up, his face flushed and angry but he said nothing. In the doorway, the blond man, Mikkal quietly asked; "Can you show us where you found the letter, Phil?"

"We've searched Port Nature up down and sideways!" Ant said in a pained voice.

"Then we'll search it again," Mikkal responded gravely. "As you said, he 'has' to be somewhere. His young friend does not seem to believe he was suicidal, therefore he is still somewhere on the complex. Maybe he has 'other' friends you do not know about, huh?"

Phil wished that he could shrink to the size of an insect and just slip away. The hostility between these two was so strong that it made him physically uncomfortable. No wonder Rayne wanted somewhere to hide!

"I'll show you," he said quickly. Anything to get off this boat and away from the argument building between them.

As he rose, a slender boy with soft, white blond curls and a shockingly bruised face came quietly through from the corridor beyond the day room and peered in at them anxiously. Phil thought he looked familiar but could not place him. Maybe he was another porn star, though he looked very young to be in the kind of movies Daniel Leland made.

"What is 'appening?" he asked in a small voice, strongly accented and audibly nervous.

"It's okay, Thierry," the tall, dark haired man from the roof of the boat went to his side at once, pressing a reassuring smile onto his face as he explained Phil's presence on board.

Thierry's blue eyes widened as he listened to the account of this afternoon's events. He began to shake his head as the other man told him of the discovery of the doctor's letter.

"Aldo, non!" he exclaimed at once, a look of sheer terror on his face as he sought out Ant in the crowded room and ran to him. "Antoine, you must do something! You know what this means! Christophe has him!"

Phil thought that Ant actually turned white as the boy's words sank in. The look he gave Thierry was almost pleading. The others looked equally shocked or confused.

"Who is Christophe?" Mikkal asked, frowning.

The dark fellow - Aldo - said; "Christophe is Thierry's Dom. He gave him the bruises you see. He has threatened to rape Rayne."

"Where does he live?" Phil asked Thierry, feeling his chest grow tight.

"In Port Nature, he has a villa near to the place where you found the letter," the boy almost yelped. "We must do something!"

"We 'will' do something," Mikkal promised grimly. "Show us, Thierry. Take us there!"

For a moment Thierry just froze, looking petrified. Then Ant was by his side, stroking his hair and the back of his neck.

"It's okay, Thierry, we'll be with you. We won't let him hurt you this time," he promised soothingly.

Mikkal was already on the pontoon shouting across to the other boat as Thierry stepped down from the rear deck, flanked by Ant and Aldo. Phil tagged on behind, unsure whether he was supposed to wait or go with them but ultimately deciding that if Rayne was in serious trouble there was no harm in the safety of numbers. His face turned scarlet when they reached the esplanade and were joined by a handsome, muscular black man and a tall, red-haired fellow to whom the young Englishman needed no introduction. He had jerked off to so many of PJ McNamara's movies that he was glad now of his baggy tee-shirt and shorts, for his cock jumped to attention at the very sight of the well-hung Irish Porn Star.

"What's going on?" McNamara demanded at once, taking in the unlikely looking lynch mob with a wry expression on his tanned, comely face.

"I think we know where he's gone, but he could be in trouble," Ant snapped, pushing past him and keeping Thierry moving, though the boy's blue eyes were also wide with awed admiration at the sight of their famous companion.

PJ strode after him at once, keeping pace with him easily as they crossed the main road and Thierry led them through the busy arcade and back into the warren of low rise holiday homes on the other side of Port Nature. Many people stopped and stared or waved as they passed by but PJ was intent on what Ant was telling him. Curtly the fellow related Phil's story to him and explained Thierry's belief that Christophe was behind Rayne Wilde's disappearance. The rest of them might as well not have existed.

SUBMISSION:

Rayne shuddered like a wounded animal as he felt the wave of powerful vibrations rise again, starting at a point somewhere deep in his colon and quivering through every nerve and fibre of his body as it intensified. His heart was beating faster and not just because of the poppers he had inhaled once he was gagged and blindfolded. Christophe had devised a new torment for him once the five men had taken their pleasure with him. When he would not crawl to them, they fastened his cuffed wrists up high behind his back, attaching them to a short strap, which was clipped onto his collar. When he pulled on the strap the collar almost asphyxiated him. His genitals were then caught up in a little device Christophe called a cage, which consisted of a couple of tight, leather straps around his ball sac and the base of his cock and another that fastened around the head of his limp penis. Four short chains connected these so that he could not get fully aroused without feeling discomfort.

He was still on his knees, his ankle cuffs clipped to loops in the tiled floor that spread his legs just wide enough that he could not get to his feet. Rayne fought the blindfold hardest of all, panic rising in him at the idea that they could do things to him that he could not see coming. Next, he was pushed to the floor and penetrated again, by a long, ridged dildo this time, which just kept coming. He moaned behind the padded gag that covered his lips and was secured tightly at the back of his skull, hardly able to breathe as the huge, lubed toy was pushed fully into his intestines.

"This is going to feel so good that you won't be able to stand it," Christophe chuckled nastily in his ear. He heard the others echo his captor's laugh and struggled again, but the pressure on his windpipe was almost enough to choke him so he quickly stopped resisting and tried to keep his hands high enough between his shoulder blades so that they did not pull on the collar. He heard the cap on the little bottle pop and tried to hold his breath when Christophe waved it under his nose. The familiar icy tingle in his nostrils warned him in advance of their intentions but he could not keep from breathing forever and the initial rush of the nitrite made his head swim and left him quivering on his knees, his heart racing uncontrollably.

When Christophe turned on the vibrator inside him, he was already trembling furiously. His sex strained against the restraint of the cage and he struggled again, to no avail. This time the pressure on his throat almost throttled him before he was able to make his arms obey the simplest mental instructions. He was not sure how long they kept the dildo oscillating gently inside him but it had the desired effect. His caparisoned cock was leaking unchecked by the time they turned off the vibrations.

"I think he likes that," Giovanni laughed wickedly. "Naughty little boy. He wants to cum, doesn't he?"

"Well he can only cum if he asks nice enough," Christophe said more firmly. "Are you listening, you little slut? Are you ready to beg your Masters for relief?"

Rayne shook his head adamantly. His limbs were twitching furiously but he struggled to keep his hands high enough, swallowing hard against the leather strap that pulled across his larynx.

"Oh good," Christophe remarked urbanely. "I 'am' going to enjoy this."

Rayne heard a click and realised with a surge of fury that they were taking pictures of his humiliation. Someone grabbed him by the hair and pulled him upright and then Christophe activated the vibrator once more, turning up the speed a little. Their captive yelped and his lean body bucked against the pulsing in his arse and groin. His breathing came in short, violent bursts as that ticklish sensation rippled through his nerves from the tormented bud of his prostate to his rapidly beating heart and the throbbing head of his pinioned prick. He could hear a pounding in his head that drowned out their muffled voices and laughter. Belatedly he realised that it was his own pulse, jolting away frenetically inside him. His arms and legs ached from the unaccustomed pose and his balls were screaming for relief.

The violent tremors inside him ceased again and he felt cooler air on his face as the gag was briefly removed.

"What do you have to say to us, slut?" Giovanni asked coolly, tugging on his dark hair again to pull back his head.

Rayne caught his breath, panting and sucking the fresh air down into his lungs desperately.

"Fuck you!" he hissed at last. "Fuck all of you!"

"The slut is making a slimy mess on my floor," Christophe sneered coldly. "Make him lick it up."

Before he could deliver a sniping response to that command, the rough fingers in his hair pushed his head down to the cold floor and he was jerked backwards so that the ankle cuffs strained against his slender legs. Someone was holding him down in an almost impossible position, with his head virtually between his knees. Rayne felt his senses swim. He could not breathe, let alone speak.

"LICK UP YOUR MISERABLE SPILL!" Christophe bellowed at him and his face was rubbed in the salty wetness on the tiled floor until he was almost sobbing for breath. Weakly he tried to lick the cold tiles but his body was refusing to co-operate. He could feel the stars falling behind his eyes again.

Just as he thought that he would probably pass out and finally experience a little mercy, he was hauled to his knees, huffing and panting like a winded animal.

"Salope!" Christophe shouted at him. "Imbecile! Putain!"

"Give him what he wants," Giovanni suggested, more levelly. He was breathing hard close to Rayne's ear, still holding the boy's dark hair in his clenched fist. From the jerky motions of his body and shortness of breath he was also masturbating hard with the other hand.

Rayne tried to swallow and failed. He tried again.

"Drop dead!"

"I will make you wish you were dead," Christophe warned him, somewhere behind his head. "Stupid bitch!"

"Tell him what he wants to hear," Giovanni was whispering in his ear again. "Tell him you will be a good boy for him. You will do as he tells you, si?"

"I'll die first," Rayne panted through clenched teeth. "And if I do, Paddy McNamara will have your fuckin' bollocks for earrings!"

"Why do you have to make this so difficult for yourself?" the Italian wanted to know, unfazed by his threat. "It could be pleasure for you 'and' for us."

"I'm 'not' your fuck toy!" Rayne hissed at him, shaking his head and strangling as the collar pulled tight again. "I 'never' will be!"

"Gag the little bitch!" Christophe snapped at his fellow tormentor. "We'll see about 'that'!"

Rayne shook his head frantically as Giovanni forced the padded gag back over his lips and pulled the straps tight again. When Christophe turned up the vibrator to its top speed his protests became muffled screams of painful stimulation.

INTO THE DUNGEON:

The villa complex at the heart of Port Nature was a maze of coloured, stuccoed single storey dwellings. Most were drowning in bougainvillea and russian vine. More than one had colourful birdcages on the bustling terrace and feral cats slunk around in the shade of tall palms and yucca plants, or dozed on walls in the bright sunlight. When Thierry stopped in front of a plain, whitewashed bungalow with shuttered windows, right at the heart of the miniature village, the others all quickly gathered around him.

"It looks empty," Mikkal said with a frown. "Locked up, still."

"He does not open the shutters," Thierry barely whispered.

"Is this where you found the letter?" PJ asked the still awe-struck Phil, who merely nodded at first then pointed a little further down the avenue.

"It was just around there somewhere."

"Do we knock?" Ant asked Thierry. "Or have you a key?"

He mimed the action of unlocking a door when the boy just looked blankly at him. Mikkal murmured; "Vous avez la cle?"

"The... key is with my things, inside." The French boy looked apologetically at him.

"If we knock, the bastard knows we're coming," Clay suggested grimly.

"If he has Rayne in there, where are they most likely to be?" PJ asked the French lad speculatively.

"Christophe has a dungeon room in the back of the house," Thierry explained, his cheeks turning a little pinker. "Maybe they will keep him there.

"Can we get in through a back window?" Ant mused out loud, still glaring at the house as if it had insulted him personally.

"If you break in he's gonna 'hear' you coming," Aldo pointed out, shaking his head.

"Well what do you suggest? Climb on the roof and shin down the chimney like fucking Santa Claus?" Ant rounded on him. "Let him 'know' we're fucking coming! Let the fucker shit himself!"

PJ heaved a sigh and stepped into the shadow of the terrace. There was a small button set in a ceramic pad, under a grille, by the door and he pressed it now and stood back to wait. For a moment or two nothing happened. Ant stared at him incredulously and Thierry moved behind Aldo looking suddenly nervous. Just as he was about to press the buzzer again, the console above it crackled into life and a hoarse sounding voice demanded sharply; "Oui? Qui c'est?"

PJ beckoned Thierry and Aldo gently pushed the blond boy forward.

"Qui c'est?" the voice reiterated, sounding decidedly irritable.

"Speak to him," PJ whispered, nudging Thierry up towards the door.

Trembling so fiercely that he could barely walk, let alone speak, Thierry croaked; "C'est moi, Chris."

The door opened at once and Christophe's unexpected visitors needed no further invitation. They poured into the villa like a swarm of insects and wasted no time exploring every room in the place. Christophe began to protest as they forced him back up the hallway but in the face of Ant's cold glare and the sheer bulk of PJ and Clay he did not quibble for long. Mikkal put a protective arm around Thierry as the older Frenchman headed for him instead. Phil moved to stand on his other side and folded his arms, suddenly remembering why he had recognised Thierry. Last time he had seen the boy had been at a fetish club here at the Cap. Christophe had been wearing leather boots and a black peaked cap with a Nazi badge. Thierry had been on a leash at his feet, made up like a little slapper with his wrists cuffed to his thighs. He remembered thinking that the boy looked most uncomfortable.

"Leave him alone," he warned now. "You've done enough to him already!"

When burly strangers burst into the dungeon room, shouting and cursing in English, the remaining torturers scattered like mice before a particularly vengeful cat, fleeing into the bathroom and grappling with the windows in their eagerness to escape. Giovanni held his ground but only until Ant punched him in the head and knocked him to the tiled floor. As the three muscle-bound porn stars inflicted a little punishment of their own on the others, Ant dropped to his knees and wrestled with the straps and cuffs that restrained their quivering captive. Rayne curled up in a tight, defensive ball just as soon as his hands and feet were free. He wrapped his arms around his head and whimpered like a frightened pup, his whole body shuddering uncontrollably. Ant unfastened the gag and blindfold and tried to hold his terrified young friend but Rayne was still squirming and resisting him, moaning more urgently now.

As his concerned lover ran soothing hands over his back and thigh, careful of the red, angry welts raised on his pale skin there, he noticed the black, rubber-covered cord that hung down between Rayne's buttocks and pulled on it gently, meeting resistance at once. There was a small plastic box on the end of the cord with a switch device and as he flicked the control back down to zero his companion shuddered once more, then curled up more tightly, panting for breath, his hands pressed to his face as if he could not bear to look at anything.

"Sshhhhh," Ant soothed him, ignoring the shouts and screams and the sounds of fists pummelling flesh as justice was carried out in the next room. "It's okay. It's over, baby."

He pulled more firmly on the cord, recalling Thierry's words about his lover's fondness for inserting sex toys into his playmates. The dildo was wedged in tightly but he managed to pull it out after a little careful wriggling and tugging on the cable. Ant exclaimed softly and incredulously over the length of the thing, which had to be at least thirteen inches of pliable black latex. Rayne shivered and gasped breathlessly as it slipped wetly out of him. He moved a trembling hand between his legs now, struggling with the cock cage. Very gently, Ant helped him to remove the tight leather straps and carefully massaged the boy's raw, sore penis and swollen balls.