Winter Hideout

"Shower and dress," Jay directed afterward. "We're going down into Nellysford for lunch and a Christmas tree. I'm having a Christmas party Saturday night, and you and I are going to trim a tree this afternoon."

Ricky had no problem with that. It wasn't like he had any other plans today and his hiding out was getting boring—plus, until he got his ski instructor pinned down the previous night, he hadn't had a fuck for over a week. This easily got on the nerves of a rent-boy who was used to giving out multiple times nearly every day.

They got into that while eating lunch and drinking wine at the Veritas Winery, where Jay was amused to learn the two glasses of wine had come from that he had downed earlier in the day.

"So, you're a high-end Washington, D.C., hooker who is on the lam from the police," he said as they chewed on sandwiches and drank wine at the winery.

"Basically, yes," Ricky said.

"And you're a dancer. You dance the pole."

"I majored in performance arts in college and I worked in clubs, dancing, to get myself through college."

"Which you did, and got a job with a senator on the hill then—according to the papers. What came first, getting the job or being screwed by the senator?"

"Do we have to talk about this?" Ricky asked.

"Senator Bentley owns the house you're in—the one next door to me. I should know about the people in my neighborhood. He employs you in his mailroom and he screws you, right?"

"Yes. You said you're renting the house, so it's not really your neighborhood. I think we're finished here. You said something about buying a Christmas tree?"

"Yes, we can get that in Nellysford on the way back up the mountain."

"And you have the decorations for a tree?"

"Enough. I brought some with me. You ever trim a tree before?"

"Yes. Back when life was simpler and people didn't want to know about senators screwing me."

The times of tree decoration must have been good ones for Ricky, because they had both had great fun decorating the one in Jay's house. The only tension came near the end of that when Ricky mentioned the party Jay was going to have and Jay revealed that he expected Ricky to come and be the entertainment.

"The party's just for guys—guys like you and me. Actively gay. You are going to be there. You see the pole columns over there between the living area and the kitchen that we decorated like candy canes? You're going to dance one of those poles like you say you did in the clubs and we'll set you up in a bedroom to do it for the guys."

"I don't think—"

"I'm not asking you to think about it. I'm telling you you're going to do it or I'm calling the cops and telling them where they can find you. The investigation of the congressional male prostitution ring is still getting play in the papers."

Jay had played the blackmail card again. Ricky had been warming up to him. He dominated Ricky, which was what Ricky was used to and he fucked him good, which Ricky appreciated. He'd thought they were getting it on good now, but Jay had played the blackmail card again. It was all sort of circular though. Playing the blackmail card was dominating, and Ricky wanted to be dominated. That's what had frustrated him with Doug. Ricky had had to make the first moves with Doug. What Ricky melted to was a man just taking him. Jay had done that.

The rest of the evening wasn't quite as convivial as the trip down the mountain the trimming of Jay's tree had been.

Jay had Ricky fix a dinner for them from the ingredients he could find in Jay's kitchen. That wasn't over until pretty late in the evening. Then Jay took Ricky upstairs, had him strip and stretch out on curvy Italian chaise lounge in Jay's bedroom, and Jay stretched out on top of him and slow fucked him for nearly an hour.

Ricky found that rather nice. They both were exhausted when they moved to the bed and slept there rather than fucked. Ricky woke up before Jay did, quietly dressed, and trudged through more fallen snow to his house next door.

There were tracks from a car in the snow on his driveway. Someone had tried to find him home the previous evening. He hoped it had been Doug Walker, but he was half afraid that it was the authorities having tracked him down. With Senator Bentley being involved in the prostitution ring investigation, hiding out at one of the senator's houses probably wasn't the best idea. Ricky needed to think of making a next move. He wished he could do it before Jay's party on Saturday, but that was unlikely. It already was Friday morning.

* * * *

"I came by your house last evening and you weren't there?"

"No, I was next door, helping the neighbor put up a tree," Ricky answered Doug Walker. "He's having a party on Saturday and needed help decorating."

"I was aching for you. I am aching for you."

"That's good to hear, but this isn't the best place to take care of that," Ricky said, with a laugh. They'd met on the Wintergreen slopes for a ski lesson and hadn't said much of anything then. They'd been bundled up, it was snowing, and it was too cold to do more than get the lesson over and get back into The Edge, the resort's restaurant and coffee shop, to thaw out.

"But we really should clear the air on something before we do anything else," Ricky said.

"What?"

"When we were in bed the other night, you said I was a whore and that you'd read about me in the papers. So, you know about me and you didn't say anything."

"Sorry about calling you a whore. In the context I said it, it was a good thing. Responding like a whore during sex is a good thing. But, yes, I know you are taken up with a high-profile prostitution ring case and that the feds are looking for you. I don't see that that is my business, though."

"You're not going to be turning me in?" Ricky asked.

"No. I'll help you stay out of their clutches, if I can. I don't give a shit if guys choose to sell their bodies to other men. You've got the body to be doing that to the men's satisfaction."

"And you've got the cock to ruin little guys like me for other men," Ricky said. But he was smiling when he said it.

"Thanks. You did that a lot? Taking men's cocks? That doesn't turn me off. Just the opposite."

"Yes. Sometimes three and four times a day. I got used to it. It was no big deal. I couldn't take a cock like yours that often in a day, though."

"Thanks again. How did you get into that business. I thought you told me you went to college."

"At the beginning it was what paid for college and then it paid so well that I continued to do it. It isn't so bad in Washington, D.C. The police there try to control and protect it. They don't try to wipe it out. Some of the cops protect us. It was one of them, a Vice detective, who told me it was time for me to get out of town before the feds rolled me up in this. I guess I saw too much of the operation. The feds think I can help prove the case they're building. I don't think they intend to prosecute me. But the men running this operation are powerful. I think they'd do anything to keep me quiet."

"A police detective helped you? I thought the cops took their support for rent-boys in services."

"A lot of them do. This detective does, certainly. He reminds me of you. He's a big bruiser, with a fetish for rough sex. He's built as big as you. He does a guy totally and he likes bondage and some nasty stuff—but only to make the rent-boy go to heaven too. Sex gets vanilla for the male whores. They need more, rougher, and nastier to get off. Hardesty provides that."

"Hardesty is his name?"

"Yes. No first name."

"And he does you good."

"Better than good."

"Ties you up?"

"Yes."

"Beats you?"

"Just to arousal and for me to know he's the master. Some flogging and whipping."

"And you like that?"

"When he does it, yes. When I can trust that it won't go too far."

There was a pause. "I'd like to tie you up and do you. What are you doing this afternoon?"

"I guess I'm being tied up and fucked silly," Ricky answered. "You going to whip me too?"

"Maybe."

Ricky shuddered in anticipation.

When they got to Doug's Jeep, Ricky asked, "Do you live far from here? We're not going back to my house, are we?—not with that guy watching out for me next door."

"No, we'll go to my place, but will go to the clinic first."

"The clinic? Are you hurt?"

"It's a gay men's clinic. On demand blood checks. We'll go down our mountain and up the next one to Afton. The clinics there. We barebacked last time. Should have checked then. I want to bareback again."

"Oh," was all Ricky could think of saying.

They both came out of the clinic smiling and waving clearance papers.

"Now my place," Doug said. "Gonna fuck you silly."

"And whip me?"

"Maybe."

Doug was the kind of guy who kept his promises. He had a contraption in the bedroom of the cottage that went with his job on a street not far from the clubhouse that was enough to melt Ricky and send him to heaven. Something clicked with Doug when Ricky said he liked to be bound and controlled, and Doug spent the rest of the day finding new ways to bind the male whore, control him, and fuck the stuffing out of him.

And whip him a bit.

The contraption in the bedroom was used for bench-pressing exercises, but it was great for how they used it. It had a bench with two cross-bar booms behind it, one at shoulder height for arm weight lifting and one lower from leg lifts when reversed on the bench.

Doug was sitting on the bench. Ricky was put on his lap, on his cock, with his arms raised, and restrained at the opposite ends of the upper boom. His ankles were restrained to the opposite ends of the lower boom. Doug grasped his waist, and, with both his arms and legs restrained, Ricky was pulled on and off Doug's cock just as long as he wanted to do that.

With his wrists restrained and lodged in back of Doug's neck, Ricky was draped on the front of Doug's body, his knees hooked on Doug's hips, and Doug bounced him on his cock as he strutted around the room.

And, for closers, Ricky, who was admirably flexible was made to do the splits at the bottom foot of the bed, his ankles tied off at the bottom corners of the bed, and his torso pitched forward toward the floor, supporting himself by palming the floor at the foot of the bed, while Doug, after snapping Ricky's thigs and buttocks a few times with a hand whip, knelt behind him on the bed, clutched his waist, and pulled him on and off the massive cock.

Ricky was exhausted when Doug delivered him back to his house in the dark that evening, but both of them were well satisfied.

All of the lights were off in the house next door. There was a voice mail on the phone from Jay. "Don't forget the party tomorrow night. Be there by 8:00, or we'll come get you. Wear that red satin jock strap I saw in your living room and come limbered up to dance and to ride cocks."

Ricky sighed. There was no pretense in what Jay was demanding of him. It would have been easier to meet this call if it hadn't been couched in blackmail. In any event, he needed to figure out someplace to go from here. The kicker was that it would mean leaving Doug, and Doug was driving him wild with that big black cock of his. He was thinking too that Doug could lay it on a little heavier with the whip to Ricky's tastes.

* * * *

At 9:00 pm on Saturday night, Ricky, wearing the red satin jockstrap, the more-bundling clothes he'd worn from next door having been dropped in the back bedroom of Jay's house, was dancing one of the poles holding up the second-floor balcony of Jay's chalet. He was dancing to Country and Western music, his connection to that was that he was wearing fancy cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. He'd had enough to drink that he didn't particularly care. He'd done parties like this for the money. Being blackmailed to do this one didn't seem a big deal. From where he was dancing he could see the Christmas tree he'd helped buy and trim and that gave a little of the holiday spirit.

There was another pole, with another young, gay stripper dancing that one. There were something fewer than a dozen guests at the party, all men, all gay tops, all randy. Doub Walker was one of them.

At 9:30 pm, Ricky was on his back on the bed in the bedroom where his other clothes were neatly folded on a luggage rack. He was still wearing the red satin jockstrap and the cowboy boots, but the jockstrap didn't impede the first of the party guests who had him bent over the bed on his stomach and was covering him in a doggy fuck. His hole was accessible. The door to a walk-in closet across the room was open, revealing a black leather sling hunk from the ceiling in there. The other stripper was in the sling, his arms and legs restrained on the suspension chains, and a man between his legs, fucking him.

The third man to fuck Ricky stripped off the jock strap, turned him on his back, and did him in a missionary position.

The fourth man was Doug Walker. When he came in, there was somewhat of a lull in the traffic. Most of the others were playing drinking games on the dining room table or taking a sex break to watch those. Doug first freed the stripper.

"There's a back entrance down the hall to the right if you want to get out of here," he told the stripper. "I don't know where your clothes are." The stripper darted out of the room.

Doug turned to Ricky, lying on his back on the bed, panting lightly. "I made sure your clothes were in here. Dress quickly and let's scram."

It was a command. Doug was commanding Ricky more than he had before. Ricky did what he demanded.

When they got into the hallway outside the bedroom, they could see into the dining room, where the other stripper was on the table, dancing, with guys grabbing his legs. He was about to be down, back on the table, and gangbanged.

"Where are we going?" Ricky asked. "Will Jay know where you live?"

"We're going off the mountain, to the west. I've got a friend in Stuart's Draft. We'll go there first and you—we—can decide where to go from there. I'll come back to the place you've been staying for the rest of your things tomorrow."

The friend in Stuart's Draft had a farm, which he worked alone. He was a friend of Doug's because he was another black bull who played football in the Carolina spring league.

He also was gay and randy and, with Ricky's permission, he got his reward for harboring Ricky by fucking Ricky from the back while Doug was fucking him from the front in a double penetration.

Ricky didn't even think of suggesting they not do this. He was the male whore everyone was saying he was. His ass was his principal asset. It's about all he had to negotiate with. Doug's friend had put up a nice Christmas tree, and Ricky enjoyed watching that as the two black bulls shared him.