Release Retreat

"Are you Mark?"

"Yes," Mark said, startled. He turned his head toward the gruff, menacing voice.

He had fully stripped down in the locker room when the big black stud entered. The young man turned and looked at the black brute. Neither spoke further. The black bull, wearing only athletic shorts, showing off a magnificently muscled body, walked to Mark, wrapped his arms around the young man, and put his body into a bear hug. His lips and teeth went to the smaller, but beautifully formed redhaired young man's throat, and Mark tilted his head to give the big black full access to his throbbing carotid artery, which the big man licked and sucked on. One of Mark's hands reached up went to the black man's shoulder blade, pressing slightly there, but enough to be taken as permission. His other hand went between them, holding their cocks together, Mark's free in his nakedness and the other man's hardness pushing against the material of his shorts. The black man's shaft was massive against Mark's—hard, throbbing, although Mark wasn't built small. He felt both cocks stir and start to fully engorge.

The black bull turned Mark in front of him. One beefy arm crossed up Mark's chest, pulling him tight into the black, muscular torso. A hand cupped Mark's chin, pulling his head back into the black man's shoulder. The black man buried his face in Mark's throat. The other hand grasped Mark's cock and began to slow stroke it. Mark shuddered and moaned, relaxing into the other man's strong grip.

The black brute was going to fuck him in the doggie position. Only at this point did Mark make a sound. "Yes, yes, oh yes," he whispered. He wanted the man's cock inside him. It wasn't going to be the doggie position, though.

The black giant gently pushed Mark away and lowered the young man's body to the bench that ran between the banks of lockers, placing Mark on his back on the narrow bench.

"Yes, yes," Mark murmured as the black man took Mark's thighs in a hard grip and spread them, coming down and straddling the bench between them. He leaned over and took Mark's cock in his mouth, lowering Mark's ankles to his muscular shoulders on each side.

Putting his hands on the back of the head of kinky black curls, Mark raised his hips to the sucking mouth. The black bull placed one hand on Mark's flat belly, pressing the young man to the bench, needing no more than that to hold the young man in thrall, under his control. Mark moaned deeply as the fingers of the other hand went to the rim of his hole and thrummed him there. The young man groaned and lifted his hips as the meaty index finger entered him. He rocked his pelvis gently on the invading digit.

"Yes, yes, fuck me," Mark whined, providing full permission for what surely was going to happen whether he acquiesced or not. The black bull was monstrously bigger and more powerful than Mark was, although Mark was not a weakly man or more than a bit smaller than average in stature. He was beautifully formed and muscular without being overly developed. And he was a handsome young man.

The black man laughed. "Yes, I'm going to fuck you. It's what you want."

He put Mark's hips between his beefy hands and lifted the young man's pelvis six inches off the surface of the bench. He licked down Mark's belly into his flaming red bush, and then under Mark's balls and down his taint. He started eating out Mark's ass, as Mark murmured "yes, yes, yes" over and over again, panting and moaning softly, and kneading the wooly hair on the back of the man's head.

Rising over Mark's trembling body, the black bull grasped Mark's wrists and forced the young man's arms high over his head, stretching him out on the bench. His mouth went back to sucking Mark's neck, as Mark bucked under him, the man's hard erection finding its way into Mark's crack and rubbing back and forth over the puckered hole.

"Yes, yes. Now. Do it now," Mark cried out in a strangled voice.

The black man did it, rising his hips up a bit on one rubbing pass across the hole, changing the angle of the bulb's approach. Mark jerked and yelped as the bulb gained purchase on the hole and then he was panting hard, taking the long, thick, black cock inside his ass, painfully, relentlessly, deeply. The jet-black shaft was fully saddled, throbbing, slowly stretching Mark's channel to accommodate it. Mark, hooking his legs on the big man's hips, was groaning, panting hard, and murmuring, "Fuck me. Fuck me now."

As Mark opened to the cock, the black man started to move it, in, out, in, out. The pace quickened, and Mark cried out "Yes!" and set his own hips in countermotion to the stroking, digging his heels into the small of the meaty back, and rocking, rocking, rocking against the digging, thrusting, fucking cock.

Bucking against each other, they both became more frenzied in the coupling. Rocking and thrusting, bucking and fucking. They were both sweating and breathing hard. The black bull's teeth sank into Rich's throat, but the young man didn't care. He hardly noticed. He'd thrown his head back, gazing wilding at the ceiling, screaming "Yes, yes, harder, deeper. You're a stud, Fuck me hard!"

The black bull released Mark's wrists and grasped and dug into Mark's hips. The black bull raised his torso, grunting as he put more thrust behind the stroking of his cock. Mark's hand flew to the man's beefy, tattooed biceps, and he sank his fingernails in the hard meat there. The bull growled and slapped Mark across the face, causing Mark's head to snap to the side with the initial slap and the backswing. Mark instinctively started to raise his torso, and the black man grabbed a shank of the shoulder-length hair Mark had released from his ponytail and banged his head down, twice, on the bench—not enough to do damage but enough to let Mark know he didn't control anything here.

"Stay down. Take it," the man growled.

Whimpering, Mark dropped his arms, letting them dangle off the sides of the bench. The black bull hadn't missed a stroke in his fuck. Mark collapsed fully under the stud, giving the top deeper, more open access. Mark's internal walls relaxed and the cock filled out to continue pressing access open. The thrusts increased in rhythm. The black bull was grunting, putting everything he had into the taking. Mark lay there, fully open, fully used, whimpering.

The cock sank deep in the young man's soft, vulnerable center, caressing and punishing him deep inside, filling, stretching, taking, conquering, owning. Mark gave in and let the man have it all—whatever he wanted to take.

They came nearly simultaneously, the black bull shuddering as he released his cum, again and again and again and Mark, with cries of passion, matching the big black in release, repeatedly, up his belly and chest. "Yes, yes! Fuck yes! I'm coming!" he cried out again with the last tensing and release.

They held there for the longest moment, their eyes locked. "You wanted that; you got what you wanted," the black bull said in a gruff voice.

"Yes," Mark admitted.

Rising up off Mark, the black bull lashed out and slapped Mark hard across the face again, stunning Mark into complete immobility, withdrew, and . . . was gone. Dazed, Mark lay there for several minutes, panting hard, concentrating on bringing his arms back up and closing his legs, finding both maneuvers hard to accomplish.

The entire assault from the "Are you Mark?" and Mark's acceptance of the man's first embrace, a deal closed at the first meeting of the eyes to the last numbing slap had taken only twelve minutes.

The black man had taken much more than that from Mark, though.

As he recovered, he rolled off the bench, groaning, and took a towel out of his open locker and rubbed down his chest and belly. The cum there was his. He only realized now that the black bull had come with a condom in place. He'd known what he'd do—what Mark would let him do. What Mark had wanted him—or someone like him, or more than one like him—to do. What Mark had come here, to the Man's World bathhouse on North Halstead in Chicago's Boystown district, to have done.

He stood, still in a daze, staring into his open locker. Panic settled in. He'd come for something exactly like this and had gotten what he'd come for. It was overwhelming. He should leave now. He should pull back. That had been brutal, cruel. But it had been what he wanted, what he'd fantasized about, what he craved to bring into his world. It had been arousing, fulfilling, glorious.

It had been taboo—all that he shouldn't even think about doing, giving to another man, giving to anyone, letting them tear it out of him—wanting them to tear it out of him. Even now wanting it again, craving the feeling of a man's cock working him at the soft core, as that man had.

That had been good. It's why he'd signaled his availability out on the floor to the black stud. It was why he so easily gave in to the black bull here in the locker room. That hadn't been enough, though. He'd come for more.

With a sigh, he reached into the locker and took out a ratty looking athlete T-shirt and pair of athletic shorts. They had tears in them. Before the night was over they'd be in even worse shape—if he was lucky. If what he had retreated to Man's World to experience had been achieved.

"More of this," he muttered. "More."

* * * *

Mark was running down a darkened hallway near the back of the Man's World bathhouse, headed in the direction of the alley loading dark. Pursuing him was a ghoul of a man. Tall, white, bald—completely so, including the lack of eyebrows—muscular, but thick of body, the body covered with crudely drawn tattoos. Also thick of cock, revealed angrily erect as the man was naked. Although mountainous, he wasn't awkward. He was running fast, faster than Mark was. Capture was inevitable, and Mark was wearing down, more at a lope, and with no familiarity with where he was running. The man pursuing him seemed to know exactly where he was—and what he wanted.

The ghoul came within long, muscular, tattooed arm's length of Mark. He was snorting and cursing, a foul-mouthed hog of a man. A thug. A malevolent presence. His claws dug into the T-shirt on Mark's back and the young man was pulled up short. The T-shirt ripped, shredding on Mark's back, leaving the ghoul standing, holding the shredded cotton material briefly, cursing the near miss, as Mark resumed his attempt to escape.

But then the man took off again, catching Mark in the dark hallway, spinning him around and pushing him to the cinderblock corridor wall between a pile of empty boxes and trash barrels. Grasping Mark's upper arm with one beefy hand, the ghoul ran the other one into Mark's loose, shoulder-length red hair and forced the young man to his knees.

"Suck it," he growled, presenting his erect cock to Mark's face, slapping it back and forth on the young man's cheeks. Sobbing, Mark opened his mouth to the shaft and gave it gagging, forced head. The man took the back of Mark's head in hand and held the young man in place. Mark settled down to providing an expert blow job.

"Fuck it," the ghoul growled as he lifted Mark high, feet off the ground, stripped him of his athletic shorts, and turned him to and slammed him against the cinderblock wall, knocking the breath out of the young man. Mark writhed in his grasp as the man held his cheek against the wall with one hand pressing on the back of the young man's neck, while he put the head of his cock into position at Mark's hole and thrust up, taking Mark's feet off the ground with the thrust and making the young man yelp.

Fully saddled, Mark moaning and whimpering, the ghoul growled. "Spread your legs, jut your ass back. Take it and fuck yourself on it."

Mark responded to the command, as the ghoul grabbed his wrists and spread and raised the young man's arms and held them against the wall. Mark kept his cheek pressed to the wall. His eyes were wide, looking around in panic at the beginning, but as the ghoul started to stroke inside him, he settled down to low moans and panting and put his hips into motion, rocking back on the man's cock, fucking himself.

When the ghoul had Mark settled down, he pulled his cock out and turned them, leaning his own back against the wall, projecting his hips out from the wall in a semicrouch. His hands went to clutching Mark's buttocks as Mark snaked his hands around the ghoul's thick neck and locked his fists to keep himself from falling off backward and slamming to the floor of the corridor.

The ghoul squeezed and spread Mark's buttocks, put him in position, and slammed him down on his thick and long erection again. Fully into the fuck now, Mark cried out in pain-pleasure. "Yes! Oh, shit, yes. Deep. Fuck me deep," he called out to the dark walls. He lifted his feet and placed them flat against the wall on either side of the ghoul's waist and, using them as leverage, fucked himself on the man's cock, as the ghoul held steady and Mark bounced up and down on the cock.

Mark shot off his load, and the monster man turned them again, putting Mark against the wall, with the young man's legs hooked on the ghoul's hips, and the man thrust up into Mark's passage again and again as Mark collapsed and was manipulated in the intimate dance of the mutually performed fuck, his back pushed up and down on the wall with the thrusts of the man's cock. Until the ghoul too came—once, twice, three times.

The ghoul then pulled out of Mark, stepped back from the wall, and let the young man sink to the floor in a whimpering heap. He kicked Mark in the side, not too brutally but as a reminder of who was the master and who the slave, making him curl up in a fetal position, and then turned and walked away, back up the dimly lit corridor toward the front of the building.

Not more than twenty feet from Mark, the ghoul came upon another figure walking toward him—a dark, swarthy, demon of a man—slim and mincing, dark haired and hirsute, the pointed beard of a satanic figure. A towel was loosely tied around his waist, dipping enough to show the top line of his curly, black-haired bush. He was sensual and sexy and menacing and frightening at the same time. The two stopped, looked at each other, and then continued on their own way. When the demon reached Mark, he lifted the young man with a grip on his long hair and pulled him up to his knees. He punched Mark in the face—not hard but hard enough to get the young man's attention and give him a shock. Mark yelped in pain and surprise. The demon let him fall to the floor, but then jerked him up, more to a standing position now, and punched him in the gut. Mark went down again.

Maintaining the grip on Mark's hair, the demon half dragged, half ushered an exhausted Mark back up the corridor for some short distance, abruptly stopping in the middle of the corridor, forcing Mark down on all fours, brushed the towel around his waist open, mounted Mark's ass, penetrated him with a cruelly upturned cock, and fucked him in the middle of a dimly lit corridor. Completely cowed, Mark held there, in the stance of a dog, and took the cock. He also took the sharp, stinging slaps from the devil on his bare buttocks as he was being ridden.

"This is what you came for. This is what you want," the demon hissed. It wasn't a question. "You will submit to me."

As if there was any question of that. "Yes. Take me. Use me," Mark whimpered.

Before either of them ejaculated, though, the demon was up on his feet, pulling Mark down the passage again by his hair, and turning into another corridor, from whence he opened the door to a sauna room, pulled Mark in, and pushed him down, prone, on a cedar wood bench.

They could have been in hell. An orgy was in session, with men scattered around three tiers of a bench structure running around three sides of the room. Men, all naked, or only partially covered with towels, were paired off or in threes or fours, kissing and groping and sucking and fucking. They all remained engaged but they all marked the arrival of the demon, who they visibly shrank from, and his latest prey.

Sprawled across the middle tier of the bench, Mark started to rise, but the demon backhanded him across the face and growled, "Lay there and take it. You want it. Tell me you want it."

"I want it," Mark admitted. "Give it to me. Put it in me. Fuck me."

With a moan, Mark lay back on the bench on his side, while the demon lifted Mark's right leg, hooking the young man's ankle on his shoulder, jutted Mark's pelvis out toward him, and stripped off his towel to reveal his cruel-looking upturned cock, still in erection. He brutally thrust up inside Mark. He wasn't as big as the two before him and the young man easily took the shaft, Mark having now been reamed well open, but he was cruel. His cock curved up and, taking the best angle for it, he went right for the prostate, rubbing that hard and straight on with the bulb of his cock, sending waves of electric arousal and stirring of juices through the young man's body. Mark cried out an accepting "Yes! Just there; just like that! Take me! Work it!" and the demon settled down to a steady rhythm of the fuck, punishing the prostate mercilessly.

Mark relaxed on the bench, moaning low, and taking it and taking it and taking it, murmuring, "Yes. Yes, like that." At length he jerked and flowed, jerked and flowed and then, exhausted, zoned out into semiconciousness as the demon fucked on, taking Mark to the edge and then backing off, slowly stroking to his own coming. At the same time, he gripped Mark's throat with a strong hand, cruelly smiling down into Mark's face as he did so. He was regulating the flow of oxygen to the young man—and being stingy about it.

Mark was barely conscious, weakly and ineffectually scrabbling at the choking hand with his hands while, simultaneously, moving his hips with the fuck, participating in the dance of La Petite Mort, the little death, the search for the perfect orgasm, as well as he could, wanting the brutal fuck, panting and gasping as the demon gave him progressively less air. Mark collapsed completely under the devil, going limp, his arms dangling down from his body, his head lolling over to the side, his eyes dazed, in total surrender, while the demon continued rhythmically fucking and choking him to hell, bringing him to and past dry orgasm after dry orgasm, his balls drained and aching, but still firing off, until, as the devil exploded inside him, Mark blacked completely out.

* * * *

When Mark came to, the demon was gone and he was still stretched out on the bench. The orgy was still going on around him. As he watched, a figure rose out of a teeming mass on the other side of the sauna and walked toward him. The man was beautiful. The words that came to Mark's mind were "white" and "light." He was almost an albino, white blond with highlights that picked up any form of light and made it seem like he had a halo. He was slim, but perfectly formed. His eyes were a pale blue, his smile transcendent, as from another time and place—a better time and place. He was wearing a dazzling white loincloth.

The angel walked to Mark, smiled, and extended a hand. "Come. You must be exhausted," he said. His voice was a lilting tenor. Mark pulled himself up off the bench, groaning at the pain he'd been through, although he hadn't forgotten the pleasure of it as well, and put his hand in that of the angel. As the figure turned and led Mark out of the sauna, Mark noted that the man's back was intricately tattooed, the only tattoo on his body. He had been inked with feathery wings extending out from his spine and up to the tips of his shoulder blades.

The angel led Mark toward the front of the club, turning off into a corridor with doors off of it behind which Mark could hear the sound of men having sex. He was guided into a room that was stark white—floor, walls, and ceiling. It had a bright white glow to it. A white vinyl-clad cube of an ottoman of some five feet by five feet rose from the center of the room, the only furniture in the chamber.