Finding Hosea

Could I endure this as his houseboy? But what was I thinking? I was here looking for Hosea. I wasn't really looking for a job with this glorious monster. But was Hosea here before me? Was he unable to endure more than a few days of this? This man was a witch. He was from some other world, a world of master cocksmen. He was a warlock. He could destroy me. Had he destroyed Hosea before me?

I heard the lock turn in the door when Nichelson left. There was an en suite bathroom and a stocked kitchenette in the corner, so I could live here. Would I be living here as the man's captive?

He had expressed pleasure at what I could--and did--take from him. In leaving he said the houseboy job was mine. It was declared as a done deal rather than a job offer. But he said that, for now, he wouldn't see me again until the next day--that this was Halloween and he had duties to perform. His last statement bowled me over.

"You are a sweet, accomplished piece of ass. I do enjoy a small brown honey with a tight hole. Even more delicious than your cousin was. You are going to bring me great pleasure; I will use you totally."

When I'd recovered, I rolled off the bed and padded around the room, looking for a sign that Hosea had, indeed, been here. I was naked and without clothes in the room--yet another mechanism for keeping me in place, a captive of this man's desires.

I found evidence of Hosea. In the back corner of the closet, having fallen to the floor, was a shirt. I recognized it. It was an Hawaiian-patterned monstrosity that I'd given to Hosea myself as a joke. But Hosea was tasteless. He'd liked the shirt and wore it often. He wasn't wearing it now. It had been left in this room. I also found a pair of briefs in a bureau drawer. So, I wouldn't be completely naked if I escaped from here.

If I wanted to escape from here.

The man was a fucking god. What other melting sexual positions did he have at his command? I was weak where it came to lying under men who were masters. Hayden Nichelson was a master of sex.

I saw that there was a TV screen and DVR box by the door into the bathroom. I turned it on and watched Nichelson fuck my cousin, Hosea, in different, but as arousing, positions as he fucked me.

Totally exhausted, I dragged myself back to the bed, stretched out on my back, legs parted, arms stretched out into a cruciform, totally vulnerable and open to anything the glorious monster wanted to do with me. I fell immediately into the sleep of the dead, once more conjuring up the nightmare of the previous two nights. The scene was coming more into focus. This time the figure that lay on top of me, using me mercilessly and interminably, was all blackness in a billowing black cape. I was completely open and vulnerable to the cock pounding relentlessly inside me. I had an arm stretched out toward the floor, but still could not reach the displaced floorboards. Once again, the voice of Hosea was crying out, "No, don't look. Beware! Leave! Escape!"

* * * *

The rhythmic thumping that was in the background of my nightmare moved into the forefront, became dominant, and I woke, on the black-sheeted bed in the room with the black walls, floor, and ceiling to the sound of drums and the hint of chanting in the near distance. Moonlight was streaming through the French doors facing the double-tower red-rock buttes beyond the back of Hayden Nichelson's house, drawing me to rise from the bed and go to the moonlight.

The moon was so close and vibrant that I felt I could reach out and touch it. But beyond that the positioning was so perfect that the orb of the moon hung neatly and fully between the two red-rock pillars in the near distance. The sound, both the rhythmic beating of two or more drums and a low chant came from that position, and a swirl of activity was visible in the saddle between the two rock chimneys. A stone altar hovered there that I hadn't noticed before and figures in black danced in slow, swirling motion around the alter. A nearly naked man--surely Hayden Nichelson from the magnificence of his Zeus-like body and his gray hair--stood, tall and proud, on the altar, a black cape billowing about him in the breeze that was flowing between the two chimneys. At his feet, on the altar, was stretched the figure of a naked young man. He was on his back, bound. A wedge placed under the small of his back raised his hips high into the air. His legs, the ankles bound to iron rings on the sides of the altar, were spread.

I had an impulse to go there--to see who was on the altar and what was about to happen to him, afraid, of course, that it was Hosea. I reached down and tried the latch on the French window and was surprised that the door opened. I turned, raced back to the closet, found and pulled on Hosea's garishly decorated shirt and the briefs I'd found, returned to the French window, and slid out into the night, stealthily moving toward the All Hallow's Eve ceremony being performed in the saddle between the buttes above.

When I had managed to get into a position from which I could observe the ceremony without being discovered, the warlock--Nichelson--had already mounted the young man bound to the altar. He only had to crouch slightly between the young man's spread thighs to be in a position of deep penetration. He was covering the young man's body from above and his black cape was swirling about him so that all I could see of their bodies were their faces, the wavy gray hair on the back of the warlock's head and the face of his captive and sacrifice. What I could clearly see in the moonlight, though, was the connection between them--Nichelson's almost monstrous erection moving in and out of the captive's hole. The warlock grasped the captive's hips between his hands, lifting the young man's pelvis even higher off the altar. Nichelson was fucking the young man in long, deep thrusts. Witches in black robes swirled about the base of the altar in a dreamy-paced, undulating dance to the drums and the chanting.

I knew the face of the captive, of course. It was Hosea. The expression exhibited testing and passion and ecstasy. That he was being fucked hard, deep, and fast was evident from the undulating of the black cape covering them both. That he was transported to ecstasy was also evident.

The cadence of the drums increased as did the frenzy of the witches' dance. Nichelson raised his body, standing proud, his cape now billowing behind him, his magnificent body highlighted in the moonlight coming through the gap between the stone towers. He was arching back, his hands on his hips. The connection between him and the captive bound to the altar--Hosea--now was total, relentless. His huge cock moved in and out of Hosea's passage, picking up thrust and vigor until, with a cry to the heavens, the warlock arched his back, raised his arms to the moon, and released his seed--repeatedly in a draining that went on for nearly a minute.

The warlock tensed, jerked, and loudly declared, on a drum beat, a second release. And then a third. Hosea twitched and writhed, as he could within his bonds. He too cried out at each release--a cry of ecstasy. The warlock's cum burbling out of Hosea's hole and dribbling down the young man's naked thighs. At the last thrust of the warlock's hips, given when the cock was withdrawn and exhibited by a long arc of cum shooting onto Hosea's belly, the drums stopped as did the dancers, frozen at the cry of his release.

After a long pause, the drums started again, but with a duller beat at greater intervals. The witches resumed their dance, but it too was less frenzied, the motion more fluid, less jerky. One of the witches walked toward the altar, a long-bladed knife raised, moonlight reflecting off the sharp blade.

"No," I cried out, rising from my hiding place and rushing toward the altar. "No, not Hosea!"

I had not been hidden well. Three witches rose from near where I'd sprung up, grabbed me, and pulled me toward the altar. The witch with the knife had cut Hosea's restraints as I was hustled toward the altar and he had rolled off to the side of the base and was bunched there in a trembling fetal position.

As he came off the stone slab, I was being raised to the altar. The briefs were being pulled off my loins, and I was being forced belly down on the wedge on the altar, my cheek on the surface the altar, my chest pressed into where the wedge descended to the marble top, and my buttocks raised to the top edge of the wedge. A bevy of witches secured my wrists and my ankles to hold me in place. The drums picked up the beat, the dance of the witches began again in frenzied earnest. The low chanting commenced.

The warlock, standing proud and still in regained full erection while the captive transitioned from Hosea to me; mounted me from behind; grasped my hips in his hands; penetrated with his never-withering erection, while I cried out in pain-passion at the stretching thickness and length of him; stretched me open in a long slide; immediately started to pump; and the sacrificial ceremony of the Moon Dance of All Hallow's Eve began anew. I moved with him, digging my toes into the marble of the altar and meeting his thrusts with counterthrusts.

"Take me! Not Hosea. Me, not him. Make me the sacrifice! Yessssss!"

I cried out and writhed as I could as Nichelson buried himself deep in my core and fucked me and fucked me and fucked me to utter babbling exhaustion.

Well, at least I had found Hosea.

* * * *

"Hey, that's my shirt, I think."

"It most certainly is, and you can have it back just as soon as my clothes have been returned to me," I answered.

We were sitting in Hayden Nichelson's dining room, looking quite the motley group. Nichelson was wrapped in the black robe he'd worn to the Mood Dance ceremony just up the hill from the house. Hosea was wearing the loincloth he'd been escorted in to the ceremony from the nearby ranch where he's been staying, having agreed to stay around to be in Nichelson's ceremony, but having gone to stay with one of Nichelson's neighboring friend's house until that was over.

"I enjoyed being here," he said, "but I could only endure it for a few days. The duties were just too taxing. Hayden was good enough to find me a place with Phil up the road until the ceremony was over. Phil fucks me, but... well... you know."

"Yes, I most certainly know," I said, looking pointedly at Nichelson sitting across the table from us and drinking coffee. He had a little smile on his face. He could hear us talking and we weren't saying anything that he gave a shit about.

One of the witches, still in a black robe, was in the kitchen, making omelets for us. The image was ridiculous enough that I had trouble not laughing--a domesticated witch. It had been a long, rough night. Rougher on me--and Hosea--I'm sure than on any of the coven who had congregated here to worship the moon rising between the two red-rock pillars in back of the house on one specific night.

I was wearing the briefs I'd found in a drawer and Hosea's Hawaiian-pattern shirt, unbuttoned and flared open. He only now had noticed I had it.

"We worried about you... I worried about you. Your mother sent me looking for you. You suddenly stopped calling."

"I lost my cellphone," Hosea said. "I had to get out of the last place I stayed in a hurry. I left most everything behind."

"Yes, I know," I said. "I've got your stuff outside in my car, including the cellphone. You can call us about your adventures now."

"You've got my stuff? You don't mean you've been to Carl's house in Phoenix?"

"Yes, I've been to Carl's house in Phoenix. I was there for a night."

"And you made it out alive? Man, if I'd known you followed me there, I'd have warned you off. That guy's crazy. He's got this room behind his kitchen that's a sexual torture chamber. He strung me up on an X-frame and nearly killed me. The thing was thumping against the wall to beat the band and he was torturing me with all sorts of sex toys. He was a maniac."

"And yet you're here," I said. But this didn't come as a surprise to me. I suspected something was going on in that room and that it had once involved Hosea and more recently the little Thai guy, Lek. And it all was connected to that nightmare I'd been having.

"I don't know how I got away from him. He fucked me shackled over some sort of sawhorse thing and then strung me up on an X-frame and was going to whip me. I broke away, pushed him down, and managed to get out of the house with just the clothes he'd pulled off me. I don't know why he didn't follow me. He was a big muvva. If he'd caught me, he could have--and probably would have--beaten me to death."

"He didn't follow you because when you pushed him down, he broke his leg. You did try to warn me off, Hosea. And it worked."

"What do you mean warned you off?"

"Never mind. It's all too crazy to get into. I'm just glad I found you. Where do you go from here?"

"Back to Las Vegas, I think," Hosea answered. "I don't think I'm cut out for this houseboy with privileges life. The short-order cook job in a fancy restaurant is looking really good to me now. And you? Will you drive me back?"

"If you can hold on for a few days or so," I said. "You said you could only take the job here with Hayden for a couple of days with all the demands it entailed."

"Yes, so?"

"I think I'd like to see if I can last a few more days with him than you did." I looked over at Hayden Nichelson, who was giving me a hard look. I could also hear the wheels spinning in his brain, going through his index of exotic, athletic, and demanding sex positions to try on me--at least that was what I was hoping was going through his mind.