The Recurrence

FOREWARD

This is a record of a fantasy, not an attempt to describe a real life dungeon, about which I know almost nothing.

The Recurrence

"Well, Lieutenant Henderson! What brings you back here? Another murder? You think another one of my people did it?" The speaker was a heavily muscled man, about three inches shorter than Luke Henderson's six feet. They were standing in the dark lobby of a sex club in central Manhattan.

"No, Hugo. I've come to purchase your services."

"What? Some undercover thing?"

"No, just your regular services for me on an unofficial basis."

"Oh," he said reflectively. Not surprised. He regarded Henderson up and down, a sort of professional inspection. Then he looked up at him. "OK, well I think we can accommodate you. What are your preferences?"

"I'm just assuming you know your job."

"Sure, sure! Alright, for how long?"

"Two hours? Does that sound reasonable?"

"Sure, sure! That'll be five hundred dollars up front. If you leave early, no refund."

Henderson pulled out his wallet and took out a credit card. His hand trembled just a little, but he didn't care if Hugo noticed.

"Don't you want to use cash?"

"No, this will be OK." In wrestling with his decision to come here, Henderson had settled on the plan to tell his wife about this sooner or later. Their relationship was one that would be hurt by a lie, and she already knew about his time in the camp. He would also tell his captain, hopefully confidentially, to eliminate the possibility of his someday being seen as a target of blackmail. Not the details, of course, but enough. It took days to come to this decision. What tipped him over the edge was the realization that knowing his soldiers were seeing, and probably understanding everything that happened to him was part of the experience. Feeling that known made him feel whole. Perhaps it would again.

"OK, before I run this, I need you to sign this waiver for our causing visible marks, bruises, minor bleeding, that sort of thing. OK with you?"

"OK," it looked like his confession to his wife would have to be sooner rather than later.

"And you need to write a safe word on that line there."

Henderson wrote down "platoon" and signed and Hugo ran the credit card.

"This is actually great timing." He looked up at Henderson appraisingly. "We got an audience here already. I'll re-schedule the planned entertainment. Good looking guy like you. They'll love it."

Henderson had come today after a week of wrestling with memories of an event when he was a prisoner of war. He was the object of repeated sexual humiliation, and he liked it. It was a part of him he had hardly known existed, and it had been quiescent for the last four years, but after visiting this place a week ago, in the line of work, the desire came flooding back. It overwhelmed him to the point where he would undergo confessing to his wife and captain if he could just revisit that experience.

Hugo took him into a short hall, with three cubicles on the left, each containing a bench across the back. "Go in there and take off all your clothes," he said gesturing to one of them. "When you're done you enter a code into that lock and you use the code to open it again. Just like a hotel safe." It was a cramped space with the bench and three hooks. Henderson didn't try to shut the door all the way. If someone came by and stared it would just be an early start to the experience. The thought caused a small thrill in his balls and cock. He sat on the bench and removed his shoes and socks. Then he hung his coat and shirt and tie on two of the hooks. He pulled off his slacks and underwear and hung them on the third hook and put his wallet and keys in the safe. When he came out of the cubicle he experienced a frisson of anticipation and fear of what he had signed up for even as he approached the business-like Hugo at the end of the hall.

When he reached him, the man gave him another professional once over. "Yup, this will be good. OK, go stand under the spotlight." Hugo opened the door into a room that was just as dark as the hall. The floor was dark wood and the walls were brick. It was the size of a large living room with a ceiling lower than you'd expect. A little more than a dozen casually dressed people sat in a variety of upholstered chairs in a ragged semicircle. There were more men than women. Luke walked, as directed, to stand in the spotlight on a wide low stage made of the sort of firm rubber underlying a boxing ring or a modern playground. He gazed at the semi-circle of onlookers, but remained strangely unmoved.

Hugo reached into a bowl on a stand just inside the door and pulled out a piece of paper. "Seventeen!" he called out. A slight blond man in his mid-twenties, sitting in the back row, pumped his fist and grinned. "Yes!" He came up on the dais to stand in front of Henderson. His face was all sharp angles, with thin lips. Henderson thought he looked like a petulant fox. "I'm Lewis," he said, and smiling in anticipation he stooped down and began licking Henderson. Nothing happened.

"Damn," thought Henderson, "looks like a waste of five hundred dollars and two difficult conversations." Lewis squeezed Henderson's buttocks in anger. Then tried sucking, to no avail.

The slap was so unexpected and so violent that Henderson lost his balance and fell to the floor.

"What are you trying to do, you fucking cunt?" yelled the man. "You're gonna get stiff, you're gonna get stiff! Or I'll whip you within an inch of your life!"

Henderson had fallen on his hip and hands. He let his forehead sink to the slightly gritty floor. Somehow this felt right. Blood began to fill his genitals. His cock began to straighten. I am stiff. I am stiff. But please don't stop! Whip me! He felt a strong impulse to crawl over and grovel at Lewis' feet. But Lewis approached and pressed the toe of his shoe into Henderson's chest. He pushed sideways until Henderson fell on his back. Lewis raised his foot and pressed Henderson's erection into his abdomen lengthwise, resting the edge of his shoe alongside for balance, his heel pushed slightly into Henderson's balls. He rubbed the skin up and down over the shaft and then from side to side. Henderson lifted his hips to increase the contact. The spectators receded from his awareness, and he wanted to present his nakedness to this despicable man who had become the center of his world. He stretched his arms above his head and tightened his muscles as if to arch his back. His skin was abraded by the grit on the mat. His gaze locked with Lewis', who responded with a look of understanding and approval.

He held the look as he slid his foot down Henderson's cock until he could balance it on the thigh and then push the toe of the shoe into Henderson's balls, pressing carefully until he could cause serious pain without damage. The pain radiated across Henderson's whole body as pleasure. It flowed from him in a long, low cry of torment and ecstasy, and Henderson almost came from the pain and pleasure and degradation. But Lewis saw it and snarled "Don't you dare!" Henderson gritted his teeth and fists and slowed his breathing and didn't come.

Lewis kicked him lightly in the ribs. "Get up!" Henderson raised himself on his arms and paused a few moments to gather himself. He stood and the haze of sensation dissipated, but his mind remained quiet as he awaited Lewis' next move.

"Get over there!" Lewis pointed to a set of manacles fixed to the floor about three feet apart and two chains hanging from the ceiling about a foot above head height. Henderson spread his legs so his feet were close to the manacles and Lewis fastened them around his ankles. Again, without prompting, Henderson raised his arms so that his wrists reached the manacles hanging from the ceiling. A tall man from the audience clasped manacles shut. Henderson didn't miss the irony when he saw that the manacles were lined with lambs' wool. A lamb to the slaughter. The lining would prevent trivial pain from distracting him.

Now that there was no possibility of giving himself relief his cock clamored for attention. It was so straight it almost touched his belly. It shouted to the assembly the depths to which Henderson had sunk, to be so aroused by this obnoxious human being. He was ashamed that such a one as Lewis could arouse him, and to such a degree. But he was also glad for his shame. It took some effort to continue to hold his head high.

Henderson followed Lewis' gaze to the side wall where a short whip with five thongs hung. His breath quickened in fear and anticipation as Lewis lifted the whip from its hook and brought it to the front of the stage. He let the thongs drift through his fingers and then across Henderson's erection, tantalizing him and causing him to writhe in need of more intensity.

There were small metal balls at the end of each thong. Fear coursed through Henderson when he put the whip together in his mind with Lewis' evident anger. His limbs turned weak and for a short moment his full weight hung from his wrists. He saw that Lewis was enraged. He wasn't playing a scene. He wanted to do Henderson harm. Should I use the safe word? How much danger am I in? Not mortal danger, with all these people. His desire for the persecution to continue overcame his fear. Lewis approached Henderson and slapped him again, once hard on either side of his face. He tasted blood where his teeth cut his cheek. Yes!

Without preamble, Lewis followed the slap with a swift hard blow from the whip to Henderson's inner thigh. And again to the other one, and then from the back. He paused long enough between each blow for the tension to build up and trigger release as well as pain.

Lewis violently struck both his buttocks, the balls landing in between them, where Henderson had especially craved the pain. Because they were spread so wide some of the strands landed between his legs, perilously close to his balls. The threat caused them not to shrivel but to harden further and triggered a delicious convulsion in his pelvis.

"Justin! Hold down his cock! I want to get the tender parts but I need his cock for later." The tall man complied and Lewis raked the thongs across Henderson's lower abdomen, causing him to cry out again. Then he lashed his chest and back. Henderson thrashed at the pain, but also reveled in it. His genitals swelled almost beyond endurance.

When Lewis finished he watched while Justin unfastened Henderson's ankles, and then, when it was clear he had his balance, his wrists. Instead of many loci of pain, Henderson's whole torso, back and thighs were enveloped in a glow of eroticism, centering in his cock. Lewis approached with a sneer on his face, like a seventh grade bully claiming lunch money from a fourth grader. He pulled his sweat pants down just enough to reveal his own erection and pointed at it significantly.

"Of course," thought Henderson, and without needing the push from Justin, sank to his knees in front of Lewis. He gripped the other man's buttocks for stability and opened his mouth but before he could commence what he thought was required, his head was grasped on each side by his hair and he was held immobile. Lewis shoved his penis into Henderson's mouth, pressing against the roof and soft palate. He was not well endowed, so Henderson's face was pressed into the other man's pubic hair. He barely suppressed a gag reflex as Lewis jammed his cock into his throat repeatedly. Instead of administering a blow job, Henderson was being orally raped. He dropped his jaw, to better accept the assault. His limbs turned to water, and his cock hardened still further. "Ha! Ha!" yelled Lewis. "Look at you now!" Henderson closed his eyes and awaited further violation. But then Lewis abruptly withdrew. "Nope. Gotta save some for the next step. I'm gonna make you stiff again! So set the stage and jerk off. Stay on your knees and jerk off!" Henderson was in such a state of sexual tension that it only took three strokes for him to climax. He abandoned himself to a loud cry as his semen shot out toward the audience for several feet. The audience cheered and he collapsed onto his heels, gasping.

Presently Lewis nudged him with his foot. "OK, go lie down on that. Put your tail bone right at that joint." He was pointing to a table padded with plastic, like an examining table, but lower. Henderson stood up and did as directed. "OK, now pull your knees up to your chest and hold them there." Henderson was slim and limber and was able to do as instructed, but he paused and thought briefly that this was too much. He should leave. Then the desire for degradation that brought him here took over. He placed his palms under his thighs and slowly drew them up to the back of his knees as he bent his legs. He rested his elbows between his waist and the table. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, not just to avoid Lewis' countenance, but so he could focus on the overwhelming sense of erotic surrender that his humiliating exposure and the power of this contemptible man engendered in him. His shoulders relaxed and he gave himself up to the vile Lewis. Another delicious spasm encircled his pelvis and his thighs. Yes, yes! Do whatever you want to me! The audience hooted when they saw his genitals shift and his body writhe.

The sections of the table below his hips were dropped and Lewis drew closer with a thick dildo in his hand. He took his time applying lubricant to Henderson's exposed ass. First he wiped it on with his palm flat. Then he drew a circle around Henderson's anus and then poked his finger in. Each lascivious touch caused Henderson's abdomen to clench and his penis to throb.

The dildo slid in slowly and painfully. It had been four years since he was used this way, and even though he offered no resistance and there was lubrication, the pain was significant. Even as he cried out the pain became mixed with warmth. The dildo plunged in again and again and Henderson pulled on his legs to open himself as fully as possible. It was as if Lewis was pumping blood into Henderson's genitals.

After Lewis drew it out the last time he placed his own penis at Henderson's anus. A charge swept through Henderson at the touch of another human, so different from the rubberized phallus. He felt himself open even more to the welcome friction of an alien presence in his body. With no extra touch required his body convulsed over and over in orgasm, his hips bucked. He gasped loudly and semen shot up his torso.

Lewis moved away and someone flipped up the dropped sections of the table. Henderson let go of his legs and slid them down till he was supine.

Presently Lewis reappeared at the side of the table. His expression was as feral as ever. He had not acquired more humanity in his demeanor, but Henderson looked him in the eye as he said, "I know we promise no permanent harm, but I'd really like to leave you with a little mark, so you can remember me. Can I make an X here?" He put his finger on a spot about five inches below Henderson's left collarbone. Puzzled as to why he would acquiesce to such a request from such a man, Henderson nevertheless nodded his permission. He looked at Lewis, saw his teeth biting his lower lip in concentration, a look of grim glee on his face. Then he shifted his gaze to Lewis' claw like, albeit manicured, fingers, gripping a single edged razor blade. He watched as the blade was drawn across his skin twice, inscribing an X. Just a little blood appeared. The cuts were painful enough to make him grip the sides of the table, but not as painful as Henderson expected. He was well past the possibility of another erection, but his testicles felt warm and heavy on his thighs and his lips parted in fervent acceptance of the pain and the mark.

Lewis pulled a tube out of his pocket. "Now I'm going to put this stuff on it. It will pretty much stop the bleeding, but it will make it scar a little. So you can remember." He grinned his wolfish grin. Another frisson engulfed Henderson at the new pain.

Lewis left and Henderson was engulfed in exhaustion, physical and emotional, total, thorough, complete exhaustion. As he lay there he savored the old pain in his ass and elsewhere and the new pain on his chest. The gazes of those around him took on the aspect of caresses. Eventually they drifted off. The haze of erotic degradation began to lift somewhat, and a sense of his other self began to return, he shifted to his side and brought his knee up to cover his genitals.

He was nearing the edge of sleep when Hugo came in. "Here," he said and gave him a wet washcloth. "It's not quite two hours, but these things have their own rhythm. I could find one of the staff to give you a couple a hand jobs for a little while?" Henderson shook his head wearily as he wiped off his torso, gingerly over the weeping wounds from the whip. "OK, well, let me put some gauze on the places that are oozing, so you don't stick to your clothes." Henderson stood, so the manager could get to all the places, and when he was satisfactorily bandaged, he put on his clothes and left the building.

First he went to a drugstore and bought four tubes of topical anesthetic and then he called Marcia. "Hey, hon, are you at home now? Good, 'cause I'm getting off early and I have some stuff I want to tell you. Yeah.. see you soon, sweetie."

THE END