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The following day, back at his usual post, Sam Stillwell was restless.
He pondered all day whether he should go back to the gang’s hangout. He was nervous. How would he be received without Devon? Would he be received without Devon?
And he was nervous about going without Devon. Even though he knew Devon had no more control than he in the situation he would feel safer with Devon there.
Sam just could not sit still. He read through the reports he had to vet but didn’t really absorb much. He found himself pacing his ‘territory’ behind the front desk looking over the shoulders of the officers and recruits dealing with those reporting crimes. This was so unusual for Sam to do all his colleagues wondered what was up.
Sam would pace then return to his cubicle, and repeated that process throughout the shift. Part of the difficulty was every time he sat down his asshole would twitch and remind Sam of the cocks the gang rammed, and would ram again tonight, up his hole.
Sam told himself he did not have to go. No one was forcing him to drive over to that building after his shift ended. No one. But the reality was someone was forcing Sam. Sam was forcing Sam. Sam needed cock up his ass. He needed to be used and abused. He needed to be dominated by those young men. He needed the feeling of someone else being in control of Sam.
Straight Sam recognized he wanted, even needed, those young gang members to use and abuse him sexually. The very thought got him excited and the more he thought of that the more his cock hardened. Sam sat behind his desk until his cock softened and he was presentable, and could resume his pacing until his cock hardened again and he once again escaped to his cubicle. Several of those he was overseeing noticed his stiffened cock and it generated discussions amongst them.
Finally, the clock indicated the end of shift. Sam bolted for the locker room to prepare himself for his gangbang. Sam needed to remove his underwear and hoped to do so discretely. He stripped off his uniform pants and his underwear when his locker neighbour arrived.
This fellow had smelled cum on Sam the other night and now he was witness to his odd behaviour. He watched Sam closely as the latter pulled on his uniform pants sans his tighty-whiteys. He tilted his head like a puzzled dog and then said in a stage whisper, “Interesting. Very interesting.”
Sam turned toward him and started to give a smart aleck reply before stopping himself. He did not owe him any explanation. In fact, he couldn’t even remember his name. The fellow’s nametag read ‘Oosterhus’ and, although Sam recalled they had met and passed in the halls occasionally, it meant nothing. Besides Sam was focussed on getting to the gang’s hangout and having his ass royally reamed. He zipped his pants, fastened his belt, and bolted off in search of his night of pleasure – his night of being used.
Oosterhus watched him go, and smiled to himself knowingly.
Sam broke one or two traffic laws as he sped to the abandoned auto body shop. As usual there was no sign of life about the place. Sam quietly climbed the metal stairs and turned into the large space at the top.
“Stop! Strip!” a voice commanded from the far side.
Sam stopped and began removing his uniform immediately, his cock hardening instantly in anticipation.
“Where is the other one? The piglet?” demanded the voice with some frustration. Sam explained Devon’s transfer and conflicting shifts as he continued stripping. There was a whispered conversation Sam could not make out. “Well, damn,” said the voice. “Get your sorry ass over here.”
Sam moved closer and, as he did so, noticed there was something different about the space. Before he could determine what the difference was, he was ordered to kneel on the mattress next to the fire barrel with his head down.
There was some snickering before something hard and cold was pressed on his asshole. Unlubricated there was a good deal of pain as it entered Sam’s ass. Sam yelped and groaned as the object continued into his bowels. After about eight or nine thick inches were embedded inside Sam the inward pressure ceased.
A hand pushed Sam’s face into the mattress and ordered, “Don’t move. Stay just like that.”
And Sam stayed just like that. And he didn’t move. And he waited for the next order.
And he waited.
And he waited.
After ten, maybe fifteen, minutes, Sam raised his head slightly, listening carefully. He heard nothing. Lifting his head more he scanned his immediate surroundings. And saw no one.
He shivered and realized what was different. The fire, which had been roaring the last two times he was here, was barely noticeable tonight and, apparently, had died out while Sam waited.
Sam rose to his feet. The object in his ass made that action painful. A more careful survey of the space revealed he was alone.
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, confused. This was not the way the night was supposed to go. Was everyone so disappointed şişli escort Devon wasn’t there they had left?
Sam took a few steps before reaching around and withdrawing whatever was protruding from his ass. It popped free and Sam studied it in closely through the gloom. “What the fuck?” he repeated. This time addressing what appeared to be a miniature plastic baseball bat, like the one he bought for his son when the boy was four.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded of the empty room in frustration, and flung the toy as hard as he could.
Feeling embarrassed and angry, as well as chilled, Sam stomped over to where his clothes lay. On top of the pile a piece of paper and an open padlock had been placed. With difficulty in the faint light, Sam read the note:
“Grandpa pig and Piglet, Break is over. We won’t be here. Don’t come here anymore. We will call grandpa pig’s number when you’re wanted.”
Another hand had added: “Padlock the door when you leave.”
Sam shook with rage as he stood there, naked, reading this harsh dismissal of his sexual services. “Rape me, abuse me, use me then throw me away, will you. I. Don’t. Think. So. Punks!” he shouted. He continued shouting what he would do to the gang when he got the opportunity as he dressed. But he padlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs as requested.
Sitting in his car, he texted Devon the contents of the note and expressed his anger.
Devon texted back: “Shit! And Damn!”
That seemed to sum up the whole thing so Sam made his way home. He was so angry he could not relax. His wife thought they were going to have the wild, abandoned sex they had the last two nights but Sam pleaded a headache and tried to sleep. Unsuccessfully.
Sam reported for work the next day still seething and still running revenge scenarios in his head. He snarled at the first few people who tried greeting him. Everyone backed off and gave him his space speaking to him only when absolutely necessary. Sam attempted to focus on work. Unsuccessfully.
Until his desk phone rang for the first time. Suddenly Sam’s mood shifted. ‘They’re calling!’ he said to himself, ‘Ten-J’s calling me!’
But it wasn’t the gang.
After the call, Sam had to face something. He might have been angry but he was still turned on. The possibility of getting together with the gang for more fucking made his asshole tingle; and his frame of mind change.
Because the note said they would phone.
Every time the desk phone rang for the next four days Sam went through that rollercoaster of emotional responses. He also got an erection every time that phone rang which made for some interesting face-to-face meetings with subordinates talking to Sam when the phone did ring.
On the fifth day, Sam finished his daily activities report and was about to use overtime to leave early for the day when a young officer from the front desk knocked on the cubicle wall.
“Sarge, there is a fellow to see you. Name’s… uh… Jackson… uh… Tennyson Jackson. Says its personal.”
Sam thought, ‘Who the hell is Tennyson Jackson?’ Before he could voice that question aloud, it struck him – Tennyson Jackson – Ten-J! His asshole contracted and his cock hardened.
He exploded off his chair and quickly brushed passed the officer. He scanned the waiting room but couldn’t see the short thug he expected among those waiting. As he turned to ask where Tennyson Jackson was, he caught a glimpse of a young, slightly built, black man looking expectantly at him.
Sam tried to rectify his memory of Ten-J, with his baggy pants slung low on his ass, over-sized t-shirt and hoody, with this fellow. Dark grey wool slacks, buttoned down burgundy dress shirt and matching tie looking every bit a respectable young professional. He hesitantly extended a hand and said professionally, “Mr Jackson, what can I do for you?”
“Sergeant Stillwell, I wonder if I could have a couple of minutes. I have a favour to ask of you.” Definitely Ten-J’s voice. Totally different tone.
Maintaining his professional demeanour, Sam thought, ‘Yes, you can fuck me with that huge cock of yours. Right here in front of everyone!’ but he replied, “Certainly.” He asked the commissionaire who monitored non-police matters at the front desk, “Is there a quiet room available?” A momentary pause and he was told which room they could use.
Sam led the way to Quiet Room 2 down a short corridor. He ushered Ten-J in and closed the door. “These rooms are used for grieving relatives and the like so we won’t be disturbed here. There are no cameras or microphones. What favour can I do for you?” He started undoing his belt in anticipation of being fucked.
Ten-J chuckled then held up a hand to stop Sam, “Nothing like that, Sergeant. As I said I have a favour to ask. I have applied for a job in the IT department here at Police Headquarters and have an interview on Wednesday. And I wondered if…”
Sam was thrown for a loop, suadiye escort “You want me to give you a job reference?” he asked in amazement.
Ten-J’s laugh was hearty, “Hardly. … How would that go?” he said sarcastically, adopting a deep, professional voice, “So, Sergeant Stillwell, how long have you known the candidate?” Ten-J answered himself in a close approximation of Sam’s voice, “Two days, sir. Each time I was naked and the candidate was fucking my ass. But he did it very well.”
Sam laughed at the absurdity of that, “What favour can I do then?”
“I was hoping you would be able to introduce me to someone in IT who could answer some questions so I’m better prepared for the interview.”
Sam considered the request but then became practical, “You know you can’t work here with a criminal record…”
“Naturally, I … oh, wait, you think I have a criminal record? Where did you get that idea?”
Sam was stumped by that response. He explained, “Well, you belong to a street gang and more often than not there are criminal activities involved in that lifestyle.”
Ten-J’s rich brown eyes opened wide. “Street gang? You think we’re a street gang? Why? Because we’re black and we hang out in an abandoned building? You ARE racist, grandpa pig!”
“I am NOT racist but the evidence of my own eyes… I mean, you guys pulled guns on us and raped us. What else I am to think.”
Ten-J laughed again, “I suppose based solely on those two nights, you might make that assumption but… First of all, only one of the guns is real. The other two are toys. And the real one didn’t have any bullets in it.”
“Say what!? You mean to tell me we allowed ourselves to be held at gunpoint and be gang raped with toys and an empty gun?” Sam was huffing with indignation at the thought. “I can’t … I…”
“That’s right. As you say: ‘You allowed yourselves.’ Neither of you really put up much of a fight to stop us, not really. Did you? And that second night, there were no guns in sight, right? As for the guns, real and toy, you know the neighbourhood we were in. We just got the guns for show to warn any troublemakers off. Frankly, I was amazed at how easily you and the piglet gave in. You two were really easy.”
“Oh, fuck, I can’t… Holy fuck, you mean, we coulda…” Sam’s mind was blown and he could not form a coherent sentence, “I … you… I coulda stopped you from shoving that fucking huge cock up my ass…”
“Yep,” Ten-J was enjoying Sam’s discomfort. “But, then, you did come back for seconds the next night, didn’t ya? And, apparently, the night after that too…”
Sam stopped sputtering, sighed and said, “True.”
“So, it couldn’t have been all that bad. Besides when you walked out of your office right now your cock was hard as fuck. And it was hard as fuck because you were expecting me to fuck you again with my ‘fucking huge cock,’ ain’t that right?”
Sam hung his head and nodded sheepishly, “Yes. I want… no, I need, …damn it, I need that monster up my ass again. I’ve missed all you guys using my ass and my mouth. But mostly my ass. … Why did you stop us from coming around again?”
“Because, like the note said: Christmas break is over. With the holidays at an end we had to get back to work and school so we wouldn’t be there for a while. There was no point you guys wasting your time coming to the building.”
Sam sat, “Okay, so if you’re not a gang, what are you?”
“Six friends, well, seven really but Anton was away. Anyway, friends who hang out together, talk about our lives, girls, the future. Sometimes we drink. We were drinking that first night. I think that was one reason we did what we did.”
“Why at that empty building and not at your homes? That would be more logical for guys not in a gang.”
“Three of us live at home, three live with girlfriends and Whisper’s place is just a single room – too small. Jamin’s dad owns the building so we have access.”
Sam needed to clear his mind of the confusion and misconceptions, “And you don’t have criminal records?”
Ten-J chuckled again, and answered formally, mockingly, “No, officer, we don’t have criminal records. … Well, technically Whisper does but not the rest of us. Our one criminal act was the ‘rape’ of a couple of police officers but there doesn’t seem to a record of that crime.”
“True. No record of that crime. No complainants on record. … Technically Whisper has a record?”
Ten-J’s mirth evaporated and he answered seriously, “Yeah, he was wrongly convicted of an assault charge. The whole thing was bogus.”
“What do mean ‘bogus’ and wrongly convicted?”
Ten-J took a deep breath, “Whisper was walking home from work one night and he heard a woman scream. He went to help, ’cause that’s who Whisper is, and spotted this big guy beating on this little woman. He jumps in and knocks the guy out with a couple of punches. Then he goes to help the woman who was real beat up. When the cops come, Whisper’s expecting taksim escort to be a hero instead the bitch…”
“Let me guess. The woman tells the cops Whisper was the aggressor who attacked the two of them for no reason, so he gets arrested. Right?”
“How did you know? Were you there?”
Sam shook his head, and responded, “I wasn’t there when Whisper was arrested, but I’ve been there before.’ Ten-J looked puzzled. “When I was new to the force, my partner and I responded to a domestic violence call. When I was cuffing the husband, the woman, despite being seriously hurt by him, jumped from her chair, grabbed a kitchen knife and tried to stab me. To stop me from arresting her husband. Fortunately, I had on my vest and had a partner who was quick on her feet and was able to stop the woman. It is not uncommon for the victim of domestic violence to turn on her rescuer to protect the fellow who was just beating her up.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Good question. There are lots of reasons, social, psychological and emotional. None that make total sense to someone who has never been there.” Sam paused, “When did this happen? Because if Whisper is already out, I have a feeling the courts didn’t believe he was actually the aggressor. What’s Whisper full name and birth date? I’ll look into the case.”
Ten-J brightened, “Really? Marvin Anderson. Marvin Eugene Anderson. I’m not sure about his birthday. I know it’s in September sometime. The charge was June two years ago. Whisper served four months in minimum security and is on parole for five years. You can get the charge thrown out?”
“Hold it. I can make no such promises. I have no power over court decisions. I will look into the case and see what might be possible, that’s all I can do.”
“That would be great ’cause Whisper wants to work with seniors, you know old people like you, but he can’t ’cause of that charge. He really hates that.”
“Seniors? Whisper? The same Whisper who wields that board?”
Ten-J laughed, “Yeah, that Whisper. His grandparents raised him and he has always said he wanted to repay them for giving him such a good life by helping others.”
“Whisper? Go figure. … Interesting how you can misjudge people when you don’t know the full story.” Sam glanced at his watch, “Anyway, if we want to catch the IT people we need to go.”
On the way up in the elevator, Sam learned the group hung out in the old building which was one owned by Jamin’s father, and that Jamin’s real name was Benjamin; his little sister, when young, couldn’t pronounce Benjamin so he became Jamin. Enzo was premed at university. Travon, like Ten-J, was an IT geek. And Arnie, the youngest of the group, would be starting army officer training after completing high school in June.
Upstairs, Sam introduced Ten-J, no Tennyson, to one of the IT managers then removed himself to the end of the hallway as they talked ‘geek speak’ to one another. Sam marvelled at how completely he had misread the group. And he was seriously disappointed ‘the gang’ were just ordinary young men who took advantage of circumstances, raped him and introduced him to a whole aspect of his own sexuality. He pondered how all this new knowledge would affect his newfound sex life. He didn’t relish the prospects of having to give up so soon what he just learned to enjoy.
As they entered the elevator to return to the lobby, Ten-J purposefully positioned himself one step ahead of Sam facing the front of the elevator. Before Sam could say anything, Ten-J’s right hand shot out and grasped the officer’s crotch from below. Grasped and then squeezed – hard.
“Holy fuck!” exclaimed Sam almost doubling with the pain. “What the hell?” Ten-J increased the pressure. Sam winced and moaned breathlessly, “Cameras.”
Ten-J glanced at the security cameras on his left, “I saw them. Now, to thank you for your help, I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going to fuck you. You want to do it in here or at your desk or where?”
Sam punched the second floor button in time to stop their descent. Ten-J lead the way off the car still holding firmly to Sam’s crotch. He let go at the sight of someone down the corridor.
Sam regained his breath and indicated he had access to a room at the end of a side hall. Before they could move far, that ‘someone’ joined them.
It was Sergeant Oosterhus. “Morning, Stillwell. What’s up?” He cast inquisitive eyes over Ten-J then at Sam and back. He looked as though he had questions to ask but he said nothing more.
Sam choose to not satisfy Oosterhus’ curiosity but directed Ten-J with a gentle push, “The training room is down here near the end of the hall.” He led the way leaving Oosterhus staring after them. “I teach first aid and advanced first aid in this room and there’s a storage room we can use.” As he unlocked the door, he observed Oosterhus was no watching them.
Ten-J made no comment but grabbed Sam’s butt. Hard. Sam paused momentarily to enjoy the feeling before unlocking the storage room. He relocked the door once they were inside.
Ten-J shoved Sam toward a small desk, “Why are you still dressed, pig? Strip! Now!”
“Yes, sir,” replied Sam instinctively.
“‘Sir.’ I like that. I like an old man calling me ‘sir’ with the respect I deserve. Keep it up, grandpa pig.”
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