Operation: Rigid Pt. 13

We motored along, Gregorio and I sitting in the back of a black Cadillac Escalade, the ESV, long-wheelbase version, with an armed driver and another armed security man in the front seats. In front of our Caddy was the S-Class, probably the same Merc that had picked me up at the airport a week ago, with Valencia and Voice inside. In front of that was another black Escalade, also a V-spec ESV model, containing Marta and Teresa. I didn't know how much the SUVs might cost, but it was clear that Voice didn't mind spending money because I'd guess the rigs cost north of one-fifty each, and an S-Class wasn't cheap either, and likely cost more than the Escalades. Like our Caddy, the other Escalade also contained an armed driver and another armed guard, and the S-Class contained the same, along with Valencia. We'd been on the road for over an hour and, according to Gregorio, we were approaching Diego Garcia's compound on the outskirts of Córdoba.

As we rode, Gregorio and the guards engaged in relaxed conversation. I joined in when appropriate, but I was more than a bit curious, and nervous, about what was going to happen when we reached Garcia's compound. Gregorio had tried to placate my nerves with gentle teasing, but he was only moderately successful. A large part of my nervousness was because I didn't know what to expect. All three of my housemates assured me that there was nothing to worry about, and it was normal for only the hosting stable to know what the tournament would entail. It was like a home field advantage because the hosts could prepare for the event by abstaining from fucking, so they were running hot, or fucking their brains out before the event to take the edge off, as the planned event required.

Over the past week I'd picked up a little more information, but nothing to warrant reporting back to Mother. My stablemates weren't sure, but they believed that Diego, Bautista, and Sergio were either Voice's top lieutenants, or perhaps his partners, though the other three men deferred to Voice if there was disagreement. None of them knew what business the men were engaged in, and though it wasn't spoken openly, I think they believed, as I did, that all four men were engaged in the drug trade. I strongly suspected that Voice and Toro were one and the same, though I had no proof, and drug money would explain the men's ability to spend so lavishly putting on their games.

None of my housemates concerned themselves with where Voice's money came from, and they advised me to do the same. I didn't argue with them, not wanting to arouse suspicion, but they reasoned that nobody was forcing anyone to take drugs. If people were willing to buy illicit drugs, someone would sell it to them, and if someone was going to sell illegal drugs anyway, it might as well be Voice so they could enjoy some of the benefits from the wealth the sale of illegal narcotics brought him. It'd have been hard to argue against their logic, even if I'd wanted to, so I simply dropped the subject.

I had to admit, they had a pretty good life, a life I could very quickly get used to. The day after my arrival, all three had taken me shopping at my request. All the clothes I had with me were functional, but tailored to security concerns, and consisted entirely of rugged pants with many pockets, stretchy pullover shirts, and my pair of boots. I also desperately needed a haircut, and I wanted to replace my watch.

We'd spent the day in Veracruz, our two escorts keeping their distance but shadowing our every move. Throughout the day, I kept checking over my shoulder to see if they were still there, but my three companions ignored them completely. I started with a haircut and then purchased a new watch. I had a weakness for elaborate watches, and I picked up a stainless-steel TAG Heuer Formula 1 that caught my fancy. It cost me most of what Valencia had left me as a signing bonus, but I still had a few thousand left from the money Mother had given me, so I decided to splurge.

Next, I purchased a new wardrobe. I bought three suits in light, tropical colors, but many more loose and breezy shirts, casual dress pants, and a few sport coats to compliment the rest of my new clothes. I finished off my collection with a selection of loafers, so I didn't have to wear my boots anymore, two tiny swimsuits the women had selected on my behalf, and ten pair of the same type of underwear that Gregorio had been wearing the previous evening. As I was counting bills to pay for my items, Gregorio presented me with a cream-colored Panama hat with a wide black band, insisting that I had to have it. After much encouragement from all three, I added it to my purchase.

I stepped out of the store wearing a pair of my new tan slacks, brown loafers, a brilliant white shirt, and of course, my new hat. As I slipped on my sunglasses, Gregorio adjusted the hat to a rakish angle and then stepped back and smiled appreciatively.

"If only you were interested," he'd said softly as his gaze slowly traveled over me, "we'd fuck so hard."

Though his comment made me slightly uncomfortable, I'd thanked him for the compliment.

For shopping, the trio had dressed as anyone would when going into town, but on this trip, my team had dressed in casual, easy to remove, loungewear like clothing, but as I had nothing like that, and Gregorio's wouldn't fit, I was wearing the clothes I'd purchased. All but my new underwear. The first time I'd worn the new underwear with pants I'd quickly realized they bunched, rode up, and were generally a pain in the balls. I'd switched back to my regular elastic boxers when wearing pants, but in the evening, lounging around the house shirtless after my workout and shower, they were my favorite underwear. Cool and comfortable, they had the added benefit of allowing the women to easily have a good rummage underneath if they wanted to, and this past week, they'd wanted to a lot.

I'd fucked either Marta, Teresa, or both, at least once every day this week until Thursday. Because we didn't know what the tournament challenge would be, they'd cut me off cold Thursday morning with a promise the fucking would resume as soon as the contest was over.

It was generally accepted in Voice's stable that not fucking during the two days leading up to the tournament was a good compromise between being eager and ready to fuck hard and fast if that was what was required, but not being so horned up that stamina was compromised if endurance was needed. My housemates had already discovered that stamina wasn't an issue for me, but they still refused to fuck me because they didn't want to compromise their own performance. By then I was much more comfortable around Gregorio's desire for me, and he'd cheerfully offered me a tumble, willing to risk losing at the tournament for a chance to fuck me, or if I preferred, to be fucked by me. I'd waved him off, claiming I probably couldn't handle him, and though he spluttered in disbelief, he accepted my rejection with good humor.

After the first night, when he and Teresa had joined Marta and me, he'd join the three of us in another hot and furious fuck Monday morning. It didn't escape my notice that as the four of us tumbled around Teresa's bed, touching, kissing, sucking, and fucking, his cock or lips were often withing easy reach of my own lips. He didn't try to force it, but it was clear he was making the offer if I chose to take it. I still wasn't interested in fucking men, but I'd also realized he wouldn't push me to do something I wasn't comfortable doing. If Marta was right that everyone became bisexual if they stayed in the games long enough, I suspected he thought he'd get his chance eventually.

I'd have felt sorry for him except I knew he was getting the shit fucked out of him by whichever of the women wasn't fucking me, and on Wednesday afternoon, he was roundly fucked by both women at the same time. Teresa and I were lounging by the pool when Gregorio, and a strap-on carrying Marta, arrived from the house. Gregorio described a scene from a porn video he'd just found, and with agreement from Teresa, he quickly shoved furniture around making ready.

As I watched, the three recreated the scene. Just as it was depicted in the video, they were in a competition to see if he could last long enough with Teresa sucking his cock, for Marta to make herself come while fucking his ass with the double strap-on.

He was stretched across the two chase lounges he'd pulled together to form a bed of sorts, his big cock pointing straight down in the narrow gap he'd left between the two. Teresa lay below the chairs, using the chases' cushions for padding, while enthusiastically sucking his cock. Across his back clung a grunting, sweating, and panting Marta, who was ramming her fake cock into him, and herself, with as much fury as possible.

Like the three competitors, I'd doffed my swimsuit when the action began and watched the women working Gregorio over from a nearby chair, slowly stroking my hard cock, as he barked and cried out in his war against pleasure. His face a mask of effort, lust, and erotic pain, he'd taken the fucking and sucking for some time, but glowing with sweat from the heat and his labors, he was beginning to lose his battle with his orgasm. Marta was also well into the fight, occasionally, and loudly, announcing her rising pleasure as she strained against her orgasm.

His hips thrusting as he writhed and wailed in erotic anguish, Gregorio had finally cried out for help, desperately begging me to start fucking Teresa and to make her come so she'd slow her sucking of his cock, if only for a moment. Ignoring Marta's threatened vile retribution if I assisted Gregorio, I'd risen from my chair, crouched on the cushions as I forced Teresa's legs apart, overpowering her attempts to keep her knees closed, and rammed my cock deep into her inviting wetness.

I began pounding into Teresa furiously, her soft calls of pleasure joining Marta and Gregorio's much louder ones. As the two women continued to torment Gregorio with their fucking and sucking, his wails became even louder and more desperate as he frantically begged me to fuck Teresa harder and to make her come. Marta countered Gregorio's pleas, by urging Teresa to hurry and make Gregorio orgasm, because she was also about to climax.

Gregorio, Marta, and I were urging each other to come, Teresa unable to speak with her mouth full of cock, when Gregorio wailed loudly. I furiously hammered my cock into Teresa as she continued to suck Gregorio's shaft, his big cock visibly throbbing as he filled her mouth with his seed. Teresa didn't slow her sucking, causing Gregorio to howl and thrash, alternately face fucking her furiously, or trying to escape her erotic ministrations. With Teresa continuing to destroy Gregorio with her skillful lips and tongue, he loudly begged me to make her come as his muscles twisted and bulged with effort, and his hoarse, harsh cries announced his pleasure to the world.

His face a mask of erotic pain, it was sexy as fuck watching Gregorio being sexually broken. His especially loud cry as he strained to lift his hips, desperately trying to pull his cock from Teresa's talented mouth, only to have it rammed deep down her throat again by Marta as she added her wail of pleasure and effort to his, pushed me over the edge. My orgasm must have triggered Teresa's because she began to mewl around Gregorio's cock an instant later, and seconds after that, Marta also began to keen, quivering in the throes of her orgasm as she strained to keep thrusting, the strap-on pleasuring both Gregorio, and herself, with every thrust.

"We're here," Gregorio said, his announcement pulling me out of my reverie. "Looks like you got over your nerves," he said as he stared pointedly at the bulge in my pants.

"Just trying to hold my end up."

He snickered as the lead SUV slowed at the entrance before proceeding through the checkpoint. Clustered in the drive leading to the service entrance to the house were a ghostly-grey Audi S8, a white Mercedes S-Class, a white Chevrolet Tahoe, and a dark green Range Rover. Our vehicles joined the formation and stopped. Away from our little group of cars, in another, larger drive at the front of the house, were many more cars of various makes, filling nearly all available space. Not all of them were expensive, but none were shit-boxes.

"Follow me," Gregorio said, opening his door after the vehicle rocked to a stop.

I joined my stablemates as our driver escorted the four of us into the large house, a man at the door opening it at our approach. I glanced around as we were met by another guard. We were handed off to the new man and were led deeper into the house. The house was large, maybe larger than Voice's, but it was not nearly as well appointed, its ostentatious displays of wealth, with gold framed art and large sculptures, making the home slightly... tawdry.

We were led into a large room with dozens of comfortable looking black chairs arranged along the walls. As I glanced around, I noticed four red chairs grouped together on the opposite wall. There was plenty of elbow room between all the chairs, but the four red chairs had triple the space to either side of them, and I wondered at the significance of the arrangement. Of more interest than the chairs, in the center of the room four large wrestling pads had been arranged into a square that nearly filled the area. In the center of the pad squatted a machine that looked like some kind of mechanical spider with eight threaded chromed rods sticking out in a fan from the large, round, center.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Marta murmured. "I fucking love the Octopus!"

"The what?" I asked.

"The Octopus," she repeated.

"What the fuck is that?"

"A fucking machine," Teresa murmured.

"A man and woman from each team gets fucked by the machine," Marta said, picking up the description. "Last man and woman left fucking wins a point for their team... then there's another point for the last one still fucking."

"You keep score?" I asked. Nobody had mentioned score keeping before, and I couldn't figure out what it would mean if they did. Voice had told me in our first meeting that the only thing I got for winning was the opportunity to keep playing.

Marta shrugged. "No, not really. It's more of a pride thing. When the Octopus is fucking us, Víctor almost always wins for Martos, Zamora for Diego." She glanced around the room before discreetly pointing to another raven-haired beauty, with breasts as large as her own, standing in a group of two men and two women in the corner of the room. "That's her. She almost always beats me... beats all of us... the bitch... but not today. Today, if Voice picks me, I'm going to think about you fucking me, and I'm going to whip her ass."

I swallowed hard as I took in the room. The room was empty save for sixteen people, the chairs, and the machine in the middle. We were loosely spaced around the room in groups of four, and I assumed the other groups were our competitors. In the cluster nearest to our right, a fireplug of a man was standing. While he was shorter than me, he appeared to be more powerfully built. The man's shirt had been carefully ripped to show off his chest and arms to best effect, and everyone else in the room, save for me, was dressed in some type of workout or leisurewear that appeared to be easy to remove, and wouldn't require any special care.

"Víctor?" I asked Marta with a nod in the direction of the ripped shirt man.

"Yes."

I smiled and nodded at him when our eyes met, wanting to see his reaction. He returned my sociable gesture with a scowl and quick display of his middle finger. "Not very friendly," I murmured.

"He's a fucking asshole."

"So, what's going to hap--" I began, but then stopped when the door opened and people began filing in, dispersing through the room with quiet murmurs before settling into the chairs, some in groups of two, three, or four, others seemingly alone.

All were well dressed, and most were wearing sunglasses even though the room wasn't brightly lit, perhaps concerned about being recognized. After the room had filled, four men entered together, with three of them taking one of the red chairs. None of the new men wore sunglasses, though one was wearing gloves, a sport coat, and a wide-brimmed hat that wasn't dissimilar to the one I'd purchased. I guessed the well covered man was Voice, but when Valencia took up position just off the man's shoulder, I knew it could be no other.

'Paranoid' my mind whispered. Not only did his brilliant white gloves prevent him from leaving fingerprints, but they also concealed his hands. Though everyone else in the room was wearing light, short-sleeved, summer shirts, Voice was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and sport coat, the shirt tightly buttoned at the neck, though he wore no tie. Combined with his mask and gloves, not even a peek of flesh was visible, and the hat, settled low on his head, completely obscured his hair. Oddest of all, he wore a throat mic, like those normally worn in noisy environments, when radio communication would otherwise be impossible.

As three of the men settled, the doors were closed, a smattering of chairs not taken.

The man that had entered with the three seated men, but had remained standing, looked over the crowd with a broad smile as he smoothed his well-kept mustache with a finger and thumb. He was older, going grey and becoming paunchy around the middle, but his voice was clear, strong, and he spoke with authority. His most interesting characteristic was his flamboyant flowered shirt, the pattern a collage of eye searing red and vibrant green.

"Welcome, friends! Today, we have a special treat for you. A new participant has joined us... our first American competitor... so let's give Anders a warm welcome!" I lifted my had in acknowledgement as some of the crowd clapped politely.

"Diego," Gregorio murmured beside me. I nodded in acknowledgement with the confirmation of my guess.

"Competitors, if you please."

Around me everyone began to disrobe, dropping their clothes where they stood. I took my shirt off and glanced around, considering how I could get to one of the unused chairs so I could drape it over the back, not wanting to drop my clothes onto the floor.

"I can hold that," one of the women in the chairs near me said, holding her hands out in offering.

"Thank you," I replied as I handed her the shirt.

My savior was older but not unattractive, her necklace drawing the eye to the swell of her ample breasts. As I began removing my pants, the woman quickly, and neatly, folded my shirt before lifting it to her face to inhale deeply.

"He smells so sexy," she murmured.

The woman to her right leaned in close to her ear. "If he'd given them to me, he might not get them back," the second woman murmured with a smile.

I folded my pants, and handed them over, other women reaching out, but I placed them in the first woman's hands as I blew her an air kiss. I was easily the last one undressed, but I was also the person everyone was staring at as they whispered among themselves.

Gregorio nudged me as I removed the last of my clothing. "Come on, stud, time to strut," he said softly as he passed me.

All the contestants began moving and mingling. I realized what I was supposed to do, and I began to parade around the room, allowing everyone to have a good look as I quietly flirted with the women. Apparently the guests were allowed to touch, within reason, and all the competitors were gently caressed and fondled as we circulated.

All of the men in the room, guest and participant alike as best I could tell, had raging erections. All the competitors were above average, both in physique and between the legs, but Víctor and I were the largest in both categories. We passed each other a couple of time, Víctor deliberately bumping my shoulder both times, giving me the opportunity to take his measure. Even though he was probably an inch shorter than Gregorio, he was more heavily muscled than I was, and our cocks were so close in size, a tape measure would be required to know the difference between us. I worked out hard, but I didn't take artificial supplements to increase my mass beyond what I could put on naturally. I suspected that wasn't true of Víctor. When working for TTS, big was good, but fast was better, so I didn't feel the need to get huge, and I'd easily taken down a guy, both taller and more heavily muscled than Víctor, in Alison's barn less than nine weeks ago.