Guys Night Out Arc
#1 - Ambivalent Desire
The blackness that had enveloped Methos for what seemed forever gradually
faded into a grayish haze. The ancient Immortal cracked an eyelid and loudly
groaned. A cold, misting rain shot stinging fingers of irritant into his
greenish yellow eyes. His foggy, throbbing head felt three sizes larger.
Lifting a weighted left hand up to his face, Methos swiped some of the water
from his eyesight. The tall, slender man attempted to sit up and try to
figure out just where the hell he was.
"Oh, come on, MacLeod. Just once." Methos wheedled. "There's not many people
here. You'll be great!"
MacLeod spewed a frustrated sigh. The Scot and the eldest Immortal were
nursing a single malt Scotch and a beer respectively in a small dive near the
Seacouver waterfront. It was a darkened, dingy sort of place tucked into a
quiet corner of the seamier section of the North Pacific coastal city.
The wispy sight and smell of cigar and cigarette smoke wafted across the room
that sat up to one hundred customers. A wedge-shaped, scuffed, wooden
platform jutted out of a corner near what was laughingly known as the
kitchen.
Sitting in a nearby folding chair, was a gray bearded giant of a man playing
a Gibson guitar. His conspicuous sunglasses contradicted the dimness of the
establishment. His yellowed, cigarette stained, stubby fingers plunked out a
wordless tune that smacked of the 'flower children' of the sixties. The butt
of a Camel cigarette dangled from the corner of his whisker hidden lips as
his right, boot clad foot beat out an obscure rhythm.
Most of the dozen or so male patrons ignored the striptease performed on
stage by a skinny, straw haired boy in his late twenties. Friday night was
Amateur Night at the Black Dahlia and the youngster in the spotlight bumped
and grinded his narrow hips. Unfortunately, most of the patrons ignored the
performer. Only his lover sat enraptured by the young lad's gyrations.
Also oblivious to the blond kid was Methos. His hazel eyes were focused only
on MacLeod. He leaned towards his companion and stroked the Scot's blue
jeaned inner thigh. Mac shivered as his lover's talented, long fingers
pressed tantalizingly near his encased groin.
"Me---thos." MacLeod stammered.
The other Immortal ignored his partner's protestations and scooted around the
semicircular booth. Mac's hips instinctively slid further down the artificial
leather seat. Like a moth to a flame, Duncan spread his long legs and invited
Methos to an even better access of his nether regions.
Methos' face creased into a Cheshire cat grin. He slid even closer to his
prey and snuck his hand to MacLeod's waist. For once the Scot hadn't worn a
belt. The eternally thirty-something year old unsnapped Mac's jeans and drug
the metal zipper down until MacLeod's arousing sex burst forth from its
imprisoned cocoon. Duncan's head flopped back onto the seat as his libidinous
brown eyes closed. He bit back a moan when he felt his lover grope into his
white briefs. Methos snuggled even closer to MacLeod and cupped the handsome
Immortal's erotic center. He surreptitiously fingered open Mac's denim shirt.
Methos handily revealed MacLeod's button sized areolae. The Immortal bowed
his closely cropped head to Duncan's uncovered chest. His lips sucked and
nipped the protrusions until they were firm and begging for additional
attention.
MacLeod half heartedly attempted to discourage his lover's ministrations.
Alas, the Scot was helplessly lost to the old Immortal's centuries perfected
seduction. Subconsciously, he was aware of Methos pushing him down onto the
cushion. The next thing Duncan knew, he was lying on his back, his jeans had
been slipped below his thighs and his shirt hung open.
"No, we shouldn't, Meth---Adam, not here, we're in public." he feebly
objected.
"Duncan, don't worry; they're not paying us any attention. It's too dark in
here." Methos yanked down the Highlander's underwear until the Scot's shapely
naked bottom was being kissed by the cool leather seat. "I can't wait any
longer, Mac. I want you now." he gruffly demanded.
The ancient's moist mouth brushed MacLeod's rigid shaft. It delicately lapped
the whitish fluid dripping from the tip. The electrically charged tongue
trailed along the underside's dilated veins and laved around the base,
pulling at the thick growth of brownish hair surrounding it. Duncan twisted,
attempting to lever himself up off the now perspiration soaked leather
cushion. His partner's undeniable appendage merely licked harder, eliciting
an audible moan from the Highlander.
The younger man twisted helplessly in a passionate heated frenzy as his
lover's mouth dug deeper until the Scot's full charleys were consumed. Methos
continued his demanding assault on his lover's sex organs. He lifted up the
pendulous sacs with his right hand as his left tormented the Highlander's
breasts. The elder Immortal slipped off the seat and positioned himself in
between Mac's imprisoned legs. Leaning forward, he tongued up into MacLeod's
tight bud of entrance. Duncan tossed his head back and forth on the cushion.
Only his iron determination prevented him from screaming his lascivious
delight to his lover's tongue delving deeply into his tight, hot opening.
Methos nuzzled MacLeod's groin. He pulled the Scot's pubic hair with his
teeth as he slipped two fingers into Mac's rectum. The youthful appearing
ancient firmly pinned the sexually debilitated Highlander to the cushion.
"Hey, lookee here, boys." a gruff bass voice crowed. "Need some help,
partner?"
The two Immortals' attention were jerked to the six towering men surrounding
their booth. One of them, a hulking giant with sky blue eyes, drug Methos out
from under the table. The older man's arms were twisted behind his back and
pinned in place by the giant's huge, bear like paws. Most of the attackers
wore T-shirts and jeans. They were soon joined by three others, one of whom
was the guitar player.
As four of them groped MacLeod's supine body, the Highlander drew up his legs
and kicked out at one of them. Before he could launch any form of defense,
the Immortal was slugged in the gut and doubled over in pain. Duncan's
movements, however, were hampered by the restrictive jeans binding his
ankles. As a result, he was easily lifted up by four of the men. The
Highlander was then manhandled to the stage, slammed onto the wooden floor
and immobilized. After his arms were jerked above his head and secured with a
belt, he was rolled over onto his stomach. Two of them ripped off the remains
of his shirt; while another one pinned his hips to the floor. A couple others
yanked the Scot's jeans off his struggling legs, which were then spread-
eagled.
Methos was vividly aware of what was about to happen to his friend and lover.
He surged his deceptively slender body against his captor's arms and yelled,
"No--oo, you sons-of-bitches! Leave him alone!" All of a sudden the oldest
Immortal's world blackened as the butt of a gun caved in his skull.
MacLeod was vaguely conscious of Methos' yell and the elder Immortal's body
falling to the floor. Yet, obviously, his main focus was his immediate
predicament. A large cold hand separated his butt cheeks. His body spasmed as
a glass of cold beer was emptied unceremoniously over his naked ass. The Scot
then roared in fury and pain when a projection was plunged into his most
vulnerable place.
His bottom seemed as though it were on fire as the handsome Scot felt a pair
of hips slam into his posterior. He could even feel his rapist's testes
bobbing against his groin. The brute shuddered when he quickly emptied his
body fluids into that of his victim.
By this time, Duncan was dimly aware of someone sobbing. He didn't realize it
was himself until he tasted his own salty tears leaking from his mahogany
eyes. The
Highlander felt callused hands shove him once more onto his back. His belted
arms ached and burned as they were lifted even higher over his head. He
feebly attempted another kick but another nameless man latched onto the
Scot's flaccid sex and jerked hard. Mac helplessly screamed as he was lifted
off the floor by the iron grip on his penis.
Duncan swallowed a groan and defiantly stared into six pair of grinning,
devilish eyes. The guitar player wriggled his way to the inert Highlander and
opened his pants. "Now it's my turn with pretty boy here."
"Hold it, Chris." a commanding voice ordered before the gray haired man could
proceed. "I have a better idea for pretty boy."
The fleshy instrumentalist reluctantly retreated but not before he'd fondled
the Scot's genitals. "You keep yourself nice and hot for me, Pretty Boy." To
his boss he called out, "Anything you say, Sven."
A tall Albino with pink eyes, white skin and white hair stepped up onto the
stage and knelt beside the trussed up Immortal. He reached down and tweaked
each of Duncan's nipples before briskly rubbing the Scot's limp sex and
flabby sacs.
"Pretty Boy is going to earn us some money." Standing up, he motioned to
three of his men. "Take Pretty Boy to the back room. I have an out of state
friend who needs an addition to her stable."
The giant who had been watching the still unconscious ancient Immortal
mumbled, "What about him?"
Their leader glanced disinterestedly over to Pretty Boy's lover. "Nah, he's
too thin and his nose is too big. Take him out of town and dump him
somewhere."
MacLeod felt his naked body lifted up onto his feet. He was shuffled off the
stage and into a small storage closet behind the main room. His feet were
trussed together with a length of rope. He was then shoved into a corner
beside a crate of beer. The albino leaned over him and thrust a needle into
the Scot's thigh.
"Say nighty night, Pretty Boy."
Within a brief moment, Duncan MacLeod's vision faded and blurred into
nothingness.
The former Horseman rolled to his unsteady feet and stood reeling. He glanced
around trying to guess where he'd been dumped. A couple of Guernsey cows
munched some grass across the two lane dirt road. He was somewhere in the
country outside of Seacouver. Methos shivered in his rain drenched, olive
green, bulky sweater. He brushed some of the mud and leaves off his stained
black jeans. Methos bent over and drew in a deep breath. He expelled it in a
rush. Along with his exit of carbon dioxide came the rush of bitter
remembrance.
"MacLeod! The Black Dahlia!" he huskily gasped. "Dear God, where is he?"
"Joe, no lectures, all right?" Methos warned the tavern owner and Duncan
MacLeod's Watcher. Lifting a shot glass filled with whiskey, the Immortal
swallowed it in one gulp. "It was stupid, okay? Is that what you want to
hear?" The Immortal slammed his empty glass onto the polished wooden bar and
refilled it to the brim with the fifty year old Jack Daniel's whiskey he was
guzzling.
Joe Dawson glared at the oldest Immortal and tossed the dirty rag he'd been
using onto the shelf beneath the counter. He grabbed his cane and maneuvered
his artificial limbs into a ratcheting gait. Stalking the remorseful lover of
his assignment, Dawson crossed the short distance and leaned into Methos'
worry filled face.
"What I want, Methos, is to know just where in the hell is Duncan MacLeod?"
he spat out between gritted teeth.
The older man who looked to be half the Watcher's age dropped his gaze and
shrugged his shoulders. "I wish I knew, Joe. I wish to God I knew." he
replied, his voice fading to a whisper.
Wakefulness returned slowly to the cramped and stiffened Highlander. A cool
breeze whistled through the slats of the empty cattle car. He was lying on
his side on some straw, the needle sharp ends of which were stabbing his
naked flesh. MacLeod's wrists and ankles were shackled to a single iron rung
anchored to the box car's floor. Duncan's bare flesh was pimpled from the
chilling air. He shivered uncontrollably. He hadn't any clue as to his
whereabouts or how long it had been since the Black Dahlia. It seemed he'd
been shuttled from one place to another. An array of needles stuck all over
his body had kept him under control.
Mac shook his head to clear his muddled brain. His long dark brown hair
draped in dirty, tangled strands around his face and shoulders. He hadn't
been physically touched since his rape at the nightclub. He supposed he
should be grateful for that much. Somehow, it didn't help his present
situation. The Scot lifted his head when he heard the bolt to his cage being
shoved open.
"Well, well, Pretty Boy's awake." greeted the husky, well built albino. He
hopped up into the railroad car and approached the captive. "Hope you had a
nice nap, boy, 'cause it won't be long before you'll be earning your keep."
The ruggedly attractive man with white hair, pale skin and pink eyes bent
down and fondled the Highlander's rod and balls. When the Scot attempted to
pull away, The albino laughed and pinched Duncan's left tit.
"Don't even try it, Pretty Boy. You belong to me now."
MacLeod tried to twist away, but his jailer merely laughed.
"Can't have any of that, sweetie." the albino bragged and slipped three
syringes from his jacket pocket. He jabbed one into MacLeod's hip and the
others in each of his breasts. Within a short while, the Highlander's world
once again faded to black.
When MacLeod awakened, his first thought was that he must be in heaven. His
body was immersed in a porcelain bathtub of soapy bubbles. The warm, fragrant
water cuddled his skin and lifted both his senses and his flagging spirit.
"Hello, Pretty Boy." a sultry voice called.
MacLeod twisted his aching head and saw a tall, well built blond in her
middle forties standing in the open doorway. Her shoulder length hair framed
a heart shaped face with violet eyes and long brown eyelashes. A red kimono
was wrapped around her lush, full breasted figure. Duncan endeavored to stand
up but found his wrists still encased with a pair of handcuffs.
The blond smirked and shook her head. "That won't do you any good, honey.
You're here to stay."
"Where's here?" MacLeod probed.
She merely smiled, approached the tub and picked up a nearby sponge. Plunging
it into the soapy water, the woman began washing the Highlander's filthy
body.
"My name's Alice. Sven said to clean you up both inside and out, Pretty Boy."
"My name's MacLeod." he corrected. "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."
Alice shook her head. "No, darlin', not any more. Your name is Pretty Boy."
She smiled as her sponge found its mark, the Scot's groin. "....and you're
sure one fine Pretty Boy."
The woman said very little after that. She was soon joined by a burly Negro
man named Sam. Between the two of them, they scrubbed MacLeod from head to
toe. His heavy, bedraggled hair was lathered and rinsed three times until it
was squeaky clean. His chest and abdomen was soaped in addition to his back
and legs. Sam lifted each foot and carefully washed Duncan's toes, heels and
soles. The black man then trimmed the Immortal's toe nails and applied a
lovely shade of light pink nail polish to them.
Alice thoroughly scrubbed MacLeod's privates. She even lifted his shaft and
cleaned the ridges of his sacs beneath. The blond methodically pulled down
Mac's foreskin and soaped his dick along its entire length.
When Alice and Sam were satisfied with the Scot's bath, the Negro lifted
MacLeod bodily out of the tub and placed him on his back on a table. Mac's
eyes widened when he saw an electric razor and shaving cream in Alice's
hands.
"Wha--what are you going to do with that?" he faltered.
"Why, shave you of course, Pretty Boy." She sweetly smiled.
Sam held MacLeod's arms above his head. Alice took the razor and shaved the
Scot's face and under his arms. When she approached his groin, Mac attempted
to raise up.
"No way, not that!" he protested, but was thwarted by Alice's assistant
anchoring MacLeod's handcuffs to a short chain. Sam then spread open the
Highlander's legs to allow Alice access to their new pet's privates. Duncan
shut his eyes in embarrassment as the woman denuded all of his groin hair. It
seemed he was to not be spared any modesty.
Before Alice was finished, however, she reached over and picked up two
syringes. She injected one in each of MacLeod's breasts.
"What are those for? Something else to put me to sleep?" he demanded.
Sam glanced at his boss but said nothing. The blond merely shrugged her
shoulders and replied, "You'll see."
Mac was then turned over onto his left side facing away from the couple. He
silently wondered what was next; he soon found out. Although he couldn't see
what Alice was doing, he felt a cool blob of Vaseline being applied to his
exposed rectum. He jumped as he felt a small rubber hose being inserted into
his ass. Duncan tried to wriggle out of her reach but was held firmly in
place by her assistant, Sam.
"Is this what you meant by me being cleaned inside and ...................?"
"Yes, sure is, Pretty Boy." she happily acknowledged. "I'm cleansing you both
outside and inside." Alice smirked.
MacLeod felt as though his stomach would burst from the quantity of the sudsy
water enema he was given. Finally, Alice removed the hose and Sam moved him
from the table to a bedside commode. Much to Mac's chagrin, the procedure was
repeated twice more. MacLeod felt weak as a kitten. It was as if every scrap
of food he'd eaten over the past hundred years had been flushed out of him.
Alice then washed the Scot's butt. She also massaged a fragrant body lotion
to the Highlander's golden hued body. Mac wrinkled his nose when he
recognized the perfumed creme to be gardenia.
"Damn, I smell like a fucking flower." he grumbled.
"Now, now, Pretty Boy. You need to be in perfect shape for our clients."
MacLeod was moved to a chair. His fingernails were manicured and painted the
same attractive pink shade as his toenails. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan
MacLeod groaned. He didn't want to imagine what he'd gotten himself into; or
that is, what a certain five thousand year old Immortal named Methos had
gotten his lover into.
At last, Alice stepped back and admired her handiwork. Pretty Boy's body had
been powdered with a talcum of the same gardenia fragrance. His long hair had
been curled and styled and now hung in ringlets around his face. A dab of
rouge tinged his cheeks and a light trace of pink lipstick was applied to his
lush, full lips. The Highlander had been dressed in a totally sheer, floor
length negligee which hid nothing from anyone's perusal.
(I'll get a chance to escape.) he thought to himself, staring at the lovely
vision he'd been turned into.
Reading his mind, she chided, "There is no escape, my beautiful Pretty Boy."
Alice slipped her long fingernails inside his robe and pinched his left
nipple. "My customers will love you."
Duncan's handcuffs were made of steel but somehow had been wrapped in white
fur. The links uniting the two individual bracelets had been shortened so
that there were only three large rings separating the two cuffs. This meant
that Duncan's hands were constantly rubbing against each other. He had hoped
he would be able to overpower his guard, but that was next to impossible.
Sam, the six feet six inch black guard, never took his eyes off the
Highlander. A leather loop with a slip knot had been placed around his neck.
It was part of a long leash that Sam held tightly in his left hand. The
slightest movement on MacLeod's part would tighten the choker about his neck
and strangle him. Now was not the time to attempt an escape.
MacLeod felt ridiculous. His hair was done up like a woman's, his toenails
and fingernails painted and most of his body hair shaved off. He smelled like
a florist's shop. As if that wasn't enough, both his tits were swollen and
painful. The very last straw, for him, however, was the see-through robe he
wore. Duncan might just as well have been naked.
Sam and Alice led their 'latest addition' down an elevator to the main floor.
MacLeod still hadn't any idea where he was, but he could tell it was a swanky
place that didn't spare the bucks to attract their clientele. When they
reached the salon doors, Alice preceded the two men. She was dressed in a
floor length, sky blue satin gown. The skimpy sleeves of the expensive
creation hung just off her shoulders. Her neckline plunged into a deep vee
shape, barely covering her abundantly endowed breasts. A simple diamond
pendant on a jewel encrusted chain dangled prominently in the vee itself. Her
blond hair was coiffured into a swept up style. Alice was elegantly beautiful
and looked every inch the wealthy Madame and cat house owner that she was.
Sam had dressed in a pair of black silk slacks and a bright red turtleneck
shirt which set off his ebony skin. He did not wear a sidearm, but MacLeod
noticed the switchblade knife the Negro had stashed in his right pants'
pocket.
MacLeod balked at the entrance. Sam quietly wrapped the Scot's leash around
his huge left wrist and gave it a tug. Duncan's vision briefly swam from the
respiratory compromise. It dissipated when he meekly followed his new 'owner'
into the room.
The room was tastefully decorated in a southwestern decor with expensive
leather couches, plush lounge chairs and muted lighting. Of the twenty or so
clients seated, less than half of them were women. Everyone wore expensive
jewelry and furs. The tuxedos worn by the men and the evening gowns of the
ladies bespoke the fact that Alice's customers were wealthy. They did not
mind paying handsomely for an evening's entertainment.
As the Highlander was led through the door, the quiet small talk hushed.
Every eye, including those of the other 'entertainers,' riveted upon the
essentially naked, six foot hunk that joined them. Duncan wanted to crawl
under a table. Prior to Methos, he hadn't even had a male lover. MacLeod was
accustomed to his appearance having an effect on others. The vulnerability
and nakedness invading his every pore, however, was entirely different.
The Scot was led to the center of the room. His leash was securely in Sam's
left hand. Several women and a few men stood up and approached him. Duncan's
flesh cringed when one of the diamond encrusted women reached over and with a
long fingernail traced a line from MacLeod's full lips, down his leash
ensnared neck, between his muscular breasts and down to his groin. He
unconsciously shrank from the brunette's touch. Unfortunately, he backed into
a short man in a business suit standing behind him. Mac felt the small
statured male feel his upper back, then the Scot's trim waist and finally
firmly squeeze both golden globes of Duncan's rump. Shivers coursed up and
down the Highlander's spine. As if on cue, the other clients began touching,
pinching and fondling him.
MacLeod kept his dilated, sienna colored eyes focused on those of his owner.
Alice appeared unaffected to the rapt attention her newest addition was
receiving. Her lips were curved up into a satisfied smile. Mac remained stoic
during his body's exploration. He did, that is, until a tall, gray haired man
in a tuxedo finally stood up from his chair and joined the group surrounding
MacLeod.
The man then slowly strolled around him. He did not touch the Highlander's
lush figure. Even so, MacLeod felt more violated by the icy, silver stare of
that one customer than any of the others.
After what seemed too long a time, the man softly spoke to Alice. "I bid one
thousand dollars for his services for one night." Pausing briefly, he added,
"but I want him totally nude, here and now, over on that couch."
MacLeod blanched and attempted to back away. "No, not here." he hoarsely
whispered.
Sam wrapped MacLeod's tether another time around his fist and held the Scot
firmly in place.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Sayers." Alice agreed. "Leroy," she spoke to one of
the many attendants strategically placed around the room. "Bring the chaise
over here."
She barely acknowledged the Scot's presence. "Sam, if you please?"
The black man nodded and led his charge over toward the reclining chair.
Alice reached up to MacLeod's neck and untied the nylon bow at the top of
Duncan's frock. In one motion, she swept the gown from the Scot's broad
muscular shoulders and off his arms until it lay in a heap around the
Immortal's bare feet.
Duncan felt a red flush fill his face and travel down his naked body.
Everyone's gaze was fixed on him and especially his revealed cock and
ballocks. The short man walked up to MacLeod and gathered his twin pouches in
his hot hands. He squeezed the jewels inside Duncan's enlarging sacs.
Finally, he leaned over and licked first one pouch, then the other of the
Scot's organs. An unbidden shiver streaked through the hapless Highlander.
(Dear God in heaven, help me through this.) he silently prayed.
Sayers brushed away the other guests and stood eye to eye with the visibly
trembling Scot. He reached up and began rubbing both of MacLeod's tits in his
demanding fingers. When the Highlander's nubs were aching and filled, the man
leaned over and began sucking on first one then the other of the Scot's
breasts.
Duncan's knees trembled from the unwanted sensations Sayers was eliciting.
Somehow, he found himself being shoved onto the chaise lounge. The older man
finally satisfied his appetite of the Scot's upper chest and moved to Mac's
opposite end. He smiled and nodded his pleasure when he saw that Duncan's
groin was clean shaven. Sayers loosened his bow tie and shrugged out of his
jacket before unbuttoning the cuffs and buttons of his shirt. Kneeling beside
the reclining Highlander, he dipped a hot tongue into MacLeod's navel. Laving
around and around the tiny opening, he casually grasped the Immortal's shaft
in his right hand. As Sayers licked and plunged his invading tongue and mouth
into Duncan's navel and onto the center of his shaven body, the man's right
hand pumped Mac's burgeoning prick.
By now, MacLeod was helplessly moaning and twisting beneath the double
barreled onslaught. His nipples tingled, his belly churned and his sex tools
increased in both size and intensity. Duncan's handcuffed wrists and arms
were extended above his head. Two of the other customers grabbed his legs and
spread them far apart. Sayers continued his oral torment of Mac's belly and
steadily followed a downward path until the man's hot lips were sucking
around the base of the Scot's rod. He relentlessly licked, sucked and nibbled
all over Duncan's nude groin. He next found the Immortal's twin sacs, wolfing
them eagerly into his oral heat, tonguing the ridges and nibbling on the
hard, barren nuts within them.
All the while, the aloof client totally ignored the rigid, leaking dick
attached to Duncan that literally waved in front of his face. As Mac found
out, however, his tool had not been completely overlooked. A thin strip of
leather was tightly fastened around the cock's base. Duncan had one more pain
to contend with. His aching, fully dilated penis was not given permission to
disgorge its contents. MacLeod writhed and twisted.
Sayers unzipped his pants. While the assistants held the trussed up
Highlander securely in place, the middle aged man gazed into Duncan's
flushed, discomfited face. He withdrew his own shaft and prodded MacLeod's
mouth, demanding entrance. When the Highlander didn't open his lips, Sayers
savagely twisted one of the Scot's tits. Duncan moaned. When his full lips
parted, Sayers shoved his sex into Mac's torpid entrance.
Sayers crammed himself in and out of the Scot's mouth. However, he didn't
ejaculate his semen. Instead, he withdrew himself. Duncan drew in a ragged
breath, then gasped when his legs were lifted over his torso. Without
warning, Duncan's exposed rear end was smeared with a glob of ice cold, grape
jelly. Mac trembled at what felt like a thousand tongues simultaneously
licking his bottom. Sayers had invited the other guests to partake of the
feast dolloped on MacLeod's ass.
To his chagrin, Duncan shivered in anticipation when more jelly was slathered
onto his most private of areas. MacLeod then felt Sayers' tormenting lips and
teeth suck, bite and lick his sacs and exposed rear end. After several
moments of oral preparation, Sayers fully sheathed his inflexible sex tool
into the Immortal in one fluid movement.
MacLeod couldn't suppress his audible moans of pure pleasure. He helplessly
threw his head back against the soft chaise and howled his obvious enjoyment
of the sexual antics to which he had been treated.
The short man in the tuxedo paid for the privilege of untying Duncan's penis.
He then lowered his thick jowls and florid lips onto Mac's shaft. Duncan was
both repulsed and excited by the little man's mouth and tongue. He would've
been mortified to realize that the phrases, "Oh, yes, that's it, more,
please." were coming from his own lips. It only took a few moments of sucking
stimuli for the Scot to violently erupt his semen into the other man's
orifice. In fact, there was enough cum so that one of the women forced the
little guy away and finished draining Duncan's dick until it was limp and
flaccid.
In the early hours before dawn, Duncan tossed and turned his head on the
single bed. The mattress was comfortable, but he had been tied to the bed
frame. Heavy pieces of Velcro were snugly fitted around his wrists. There
wasn't any way he could even crush his hands and manipulate himself free. Mac
didn't think they were aware of his immortality. Quite frankly, he didn't
want Alice to find out that little tidbit. As it was, he was vulnerable and
clad only in a pair of red bikini briefs.
MacLeod's thoughts drifted back to his experiences earlier that evening. His
nudity and the kinky sex was embarrassingly erotic to him. He'd not ever had
any desires for that type of thing in the four hundred years of his long
life. Amanda, the little minx, was the only one who was forever getting him
into inventive intercourse hi-jinx. Her scheming mind always livened up his
sex life. Duncan did not want to admit it, but he had enjoyed tonight's fun
and games.
Once again, Mac wriggled his body and legs. In frustration, he yelled, "Damn
it! I want out of here!"
The guard watching the video camera mounted in the corner of MacLeod's room
did not respond. Sometime later, the Immortal finally dropped off into an
exhausted sleep.
MacLeod was awakened from his restless dreams by a pair of soft, cushiony
lips and a warm tongue probing into his mouth. His senses were fully aroused
by another moist mouth nibbling on his denuded groin. Hands pinched his
tender nipples which, for whatever reason, seemed swollen and aching. Mac's
sharp brown eyes startled open to gape at the three women hovering over him.
One girl in her early twenties with long, ash blond hair was draped over his
sex. She had slid his underwear off and was amusing herself by nuzzling her
bright red lipsticked mouth over MacLeod's shaft and groin. Another one of
about thirty years of age with jet black hair played with his tits with her
long fingernails. At the same time, she plunged her erotic tongue into his
gaping mouth.
The third woman was around her middle forties. She was tall, had bold green
eyes and fiery red hair. Duncan attempted to peer around the lovely thing
that was bestowing him with erotic kisses to see what the third woman was
doing.
"Veronica, that's enough." she ordered the girl that was kissing him. "We
have plenty of play time ahead of us."
Mac's eyes widened at the two syringes she held in her hands. "What are you
doing?" he demanded.
She bent over and emptied the needles in each of his breasts before she gazed
at the restrained man. "It's just a little something to please our customers,
Pretty Boy."
She heart shaped lips turned up into a conspiratorial smile. "You're our new
Queen and your clients will want to savor your sweet nectar." She paused and
added, "By the way, my name's Monica."
As she was talking, she grasped one of his sensitive nipples in her fingers
and squeezed. A whitish ooze formed on its slit. She brushed the drop off
with a finger and thrust it into his mouth. It tasted just like milk. The
Highlander gasped and raised up as he roared, "What the hell are you people
doing to me!?"
The young blonde softly kissed his wrinkled forehead and tickled his navel
with a probing fingernail. "Alice's clientele likes the very best. Some of
them pay handsomely for a beautiful cross dresser like yourself."
The three women petted their coworker until Sam appeared at the door. "Come
on, girls, time for Pretty Boy's bath."
After the women had gone, Sam called for another one of the guards to help him
release MacLeod's restraints. The straps were replaced by a pair of
handcuffs similar to the ones the Scot had worn the night before. With a man
on each side of him, Duncan was ushered out of the room and down the hall to
a community shower. He was divested of his underwear and thrust underneath a
warm water spray, much to the delight of the half dozen or so girls that had
gathered to watch. Sam soaped him down from head to toe. He took a nozzle and
sprayed him off. The black man also inserted the tip up between Mac's legs
and splashed the Highlander's groin with the water.
MacLeod was once again laid onto a table on his side where he was given
another 'internal cleansing.' The warrior's face remained a bright crimson as
his fan club of women watched the entire proceedings.
Later that afternoon, Alice returned to his room. She had Sam and another man
with her as well as the redhead known as Monica. Duncan's body was again
covered first with a fragrant lotion and then dusted with a sweet smelling
body powder. He was sat down on a chair while his hair was thoroughly brushed
and left long and flowing. Makeup was applied to his face including eye
shadow and mascara as well as rouge and lipstick.
Mac was then stood up and dressed in a snug fitting pair of white satin
bikinis and matching bra. Much to his chagrin, his breasts had started to
fill out the tiny cups. He was dressed in a sheer, low cut, lacy cream
colored half slip and thigh high hose. His frock was a flimsy buttercup
yellow dress that reached just below his knees. The bodice had a deep vee in
the front and was open to below his trim waist. A simple string of pearls
were hung on his neck and a pair of matching clip earrings were fastened onto
his ears.
When Duncan was swung around to face the full length mirror, he gaped at the
attractive woman returning his flabbergasted gaze. The Immortal groaned. He
inwardly wondered if he'd been that good looking in the women's roles he
acted in the Shakespearean touring company he'd been with three centuries
before.
'Pretty Boy' was a huge success! He was sat on display in the main lounge and
was continually being selected by the customers throughout that afternoon and
evening. His patrons were both male and female, young and old. Sometimes they
were alone and other times in groups. All of them kissed him, undressed him,
fondled him and continually sucked and played with his engorging breasts. The
women usually delighted in him laying down on his back. They would then
impale themselves on his leather restrained, rigid shaft.
The men did a little of everything. Many of them enjoyed suckling his
engorged breasts. All of them wanted to lean him over the bed, shove his
dress up, slide his panties down and insert their hard cocks into MacLeod's
tight ass. By evening's end, there was not one inch of the exhausted
Highlander's body that hadn't been kissed, fucked, fondled or toyed with.
Once back in his room, the girls divested him of his clothes and makeup. He
always had a guard watching his every move.
The days drug on, one after another. Duncan wasn't sure just how long it had
been since he'd been kidnapped. His breasts were getting even larger, which
his enthusiastic clients loved to nurse. All of Mac's body hair was kept
shaven. Most of the time his long, heavy mane of hair hung down his back. The
guys, especially, loved to trail their fingers through his locks. (I don't
know how women do all this every day.) he thought to himself as he once more
sat in front of a mirror having his makeup applied by his eager fellow
entertainers.
This being Saturday night, MacLeod wore a light blue, gossamer negligee. His
dark brown hair was woven into a loose braid which hung down his back. A blue
satin ribbon had been woven into the thick tresses. His enlarged nipples were
generously sprinkled with glitter and a large rhinestone set into his navel.
Duncan's freshly shaven groin and legs were dusted with Chanel Number Five
body powder. He even had a single strip of silver body paint tracing his
spine all the way from his neck, between his bottom's cheeks and then
circling the rosebud entrance to his body.
Another rhinestone, suspended on a blue satin ribbon, dangled betwixt his
breasts, its edges brushing the plunging vee shape of his gown. Duncan
MacLeod looked every inch the lady and whore he was supposed to be.
"Pretty Boy, wait, there's one more thing." Alice delayed her favorite
hostess.
"No, not anything else, Alice, please." the Highland warrior begged his
owner.
"Now, Pretty Boy, you are a lovely vision and this will set you off." the
Madam cajoled. She reached over to a vase on a nearby table and removed a
perfectly formed, pink rose bud. The woman then deftly slipped it into the
vee of Duncan's transparent robe to where it nestled against his bosom.
Pretty Boy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He was then sprayed with the
Chanel fragrance and pushed out the door ahead of Alice and flanked by Sam
and the other guard, Donnie.
Pretty Boy's entrance into the main salon created its usual nonverbal furor.
Every head, both male and female, turned in his direction. Mac involuntarily
flushed under the crowd's scrutiny.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." Alice greeted. "Welcome to the Springs.
We have a bevy of beauties for your pleasure this evening." The hostess waved
a bracelet clad arm in a sweeping motion to the dozen or so women
strategically placed around the large room. "Of course, here is Pretty Boy."
she introduced.
Reaching a long, tapered fingernail toward the Scot, Alice brushed across
MacLeod's chest, pinching the flimsy material tightly so that their guests
could get an alluring view of his milk-laden nipples. A collective sigh of
appreciation of the Highlander's assets rippled through the group.
"He's available at a ........" she paused for affect, "very unreasonable
price. Who wants to start the bidding?" She moved to the center of the salon,
tugging a recalcitrant Immortal with her.
A man sitting on a sofa in the far corner of the room stood up. He wore a
white suit, black silk shirt and white tie. A pair of black Porsche
sunglasses and black patent leather loafers set off his milk white complexion
and shock of white hair. The buyer's vision never faltered from that of
MacLeod's.
"I'll give ten thousand dollars, provided I have him for the entire evening."
Duncan's photographic memory flipped back to the albino that had brought him
here from Seacouver. He gulped at the memory of his rape by the six men in
the nightclub. The Albino had stood by and watched. Mac tried not to reveal
any emotion, but his face paled at the recollection, bringing a self
satisfied smile to the other man's mask like face.
None of the other guests in the room dared to counter bid the commanding
figure before them, so Pretty Boy was delivered into an upstairs bedroom by
Sam and Donnie. Sam drew the Highlander's arms behind him and enforced the
Queen's cooperation with a pair of handcuffs. The black majordomo then left
the warrior Immortal, dressed up quite prettily as a woman, in the Albino's
room. The younger guard was stationed just outside the door.
MacLeod stood ramrod straight, his face in a dark scowl which only accented
his blue eye-shadowed eyes and ruby red lipstick lips. Glancing briefly about
the room, he saw a canopied, king sized bed upon a raised platform dominating
the center of the room. Its white satin coverlet upon which nestled a dozen
long stemmed pink roses accented the thick piled ivory carpeting. Duncan had
yet to see the sex toys he knew were hidden in the room.
Sven Thordsen unfastened Duncan's robe and let the sheer fabric drop onto the
man's bare feet. His white eyebrows rose in satisfaction as he gazed upon
Pretty Boy's naked splendor. The six foot hunk stood erect, his feet braced a
foot apart. His broad shoulders were defiantly thrown back with his head and
chin held arrogantly high. Obviously, the man was an exercise freak because
his rippling muscles dwindled down to a trim waist and shapely dimpled
bottom.
Pretty Boy's lustrous heavy dark hair hung in a soft braid halfway down his
bare back. Sven reached out and fingered a strand of the blue silk ribbon
peeking from within the locks. Moving around to Pretty Boy's front, the Nord
glided over the white slave's abnormally heavy breasts and milk laden
nipples. The small pink rosebud still nestled unaided between them.
His firm, taut abdomen supported a shorn groin highlighting his arousing
shaft and blooming testicles. Duncan tried not to respond to the mortal's
visual examination, but his resolve unaccountably dwindled when the Albino
pressed his finger into Mac's navel. Thordsen then groped one of Duncan's
glitter sparkled nipples before whispering into the ticklish inside of the
Scot's ear. MacLeod's aloofness was hopelessly lost, however, when the
abnormally white man skimmed down the silver painted seam that tracked Mac's
spine. Sven momentarily paused. His digit fondled the tight, warm dip between
the Immortal's satiny mounds before slipping into the silver lipped ring of
his rose petaled opening. Pretty Boy's head fell back as he moaned and pushed
against the Scandinavian's erotic invasion.
"Oh yes, Pretty Boy, you've been well trained. I knew you were a natural for
this."
Sven leaned in and captured the Scot's lipstick shaded thick lips. He reached
out and pulled Pretty Boy's beautiful body into his as he plunged his torpid
tongue into the other man's waiting mouth.
Hot flashes of electricity pulsed through Duncan's body as though he were
experiencing a quickening. He felt his torso crushed into the taller man's
demanding embrace. Hands explored his back and kneaded his twitching bottom.
The rosebud entrance to his hot channel was then penetrated to the hilt.
Duncan fruitlessly fought against the sensual emotions flooding his inner
core. He finally succumbed when Sven pushed him back and removed the solitary
rose from between the Scot's breasts. Sven paused and disrobed himself before
returning to the Scot.
Mac took a deep breath to regain some of his composure. (This is only
temporary; this isn't me. I'll get out of here soon.) he thought to himself.
The Albino opened a drawer and removed four long, soft leather straps. Once
again approaching the Highlander, he settled him onto the satiny bedspread.
Deftly looping one of the strips around Mac's right ankle, he tossed the
other end over the canopy's frame. He pulled the leather tightly until the
Scot's leg was suspended up in the air. Sven repeated the procedure with
Duncan's left leg. When he was finished, Pretty Boy's sleek limbs were spread
apart and his butt dangled in mid air.
Duncan felt a ripple of unwanted excitement send a sudden chill up his
painted spine. He felt his testicles brush the soft covers. His shaft was
quickly engorging. Mac watched the Albino pick up another strip of leather.
He unfastened Mac's handcuffs and secured his right wrist to the wooden
supports above the head of the huge bed frame. In a flash, the Immortal's
left wrist was also trussed up. When Sven was finished, MacLeod's body had
been lifted free from the bed. He was spread completely open awaiting the
Nord's pleasure.
Sven knelt on the soft bedspread and engulfed one of Duncan's engorged
breasts with his callused hand. He squeezed its tip until a whitish fluid
exited its opening.
"It does work. Those big tits of yours have milk in them."
So saying, he lowered his mouth onto Pretty Boy's mound and began sucking and
biting the turgid tip. After a few moments of delicious titillation, he
switched sides and suckled the Scot's right one as well. By the time Sven had
drank his fill, Duncan was moaning and twisting in erotic frenzy. All this
while, the Nord's busy hands had been fondling, pinching and probing the
Scot's dangling sacs and shaft until they were huge and wanting.
Somehow, another smaller strip of leather appeared in the Albino's hands. The
pale man took this one and circled Duncan's dripping penis at its base.
Drawing the loop tightly, it prevented Mac's sex tool from releasing its
contents. Sven nibbled along Duncan's hairless groin. He caressed and pinched
the hidden jewels in the dangling pouches. He then picked up one of the long
roses from the bed and began slowly tickling Pretty Boy's breasts, stomach
and groin with the delicate petals.
Duncan arched his back and loudly moaned. Sven chuckled and mumbled, "You
make a luscious woman, sweetie. I just might keep you this way forever."
The rose fluttered around Pretty Boy's bottom and rectum. The suspended
Immortal begged, "Please..........Oh, yes!"
"You really like this, don't you, Pretty Boy." the Albino confirmed. "Well,
let's see what I can do."
Thordsen stood up from the bed and padded over to an ivory handled telephone.
After a brief conversation, the Albino returned to Duncan's side. "I have a
little treat for you, Pretty Boy," he informed the bound man, "..........but,
first, I'm going to get a little satisfaction of my own."
The Nord positioned himself in between the Scot's legs. Sven's rock hard
shaft resembled a roller coaster. Its base sloped up, dipped low in its
center and rose once again at its weeping head. The white haired man reached
over to the night stand and withdrew a tube of lubricating gel. He squeezed
out a dollop and swathed Pretty Boy's anus with the cool, slithery fluid.
Duncan shivered when the cold jelly touched his flower tipped opening. He
felt so exposed and bewildered with his legs and arms tied to the top frame
of the antique bed. Deep within his four hundred year old mind, he knew his
Catholic mother, Mary MacLeod, would disapprove of all of this. If his father
had known, he would've been disowned all over again. Yet, at the same time,
Duncan could not refute the inner, secretive delight he was feeling as his
body was introduced to new sensations and stimulations of which he'd only
heard.
Of course, it was almost a sure bet that Methos knew all about these kinky
hi-jinx. (Hell, he probably invented some of them.) he mused.
Mac jumped when the Albino's rod penetrated the Highlander's tight opening.
"Relax, baby, you have a beautifully tight ass." the mortal crooned. Sven
pulled the Highlander's body even closer with his broad left hand while he
simultaneously patted MacLeod's smooth, barren bottom. "You're still new to
all of this, aren't you?" he asked his naked lover. "When I saw you and your
boyfriend getting it on in that booth at the Black Dahlia, I figured you for
a pro."
Duncan flushed a brilliant scarlet red with embarrassment.
"Not.........long........no."
the Scot rasped. He felt his body adjust to the invasion that felt like a
rock being shoved up his ass. Shutting his dilated, puppy brown eyes, he felt
the Nord caress and tweak his nipples. Unbidden, he lifted his chest to the
Albino's stimulations and groaned, "Oh..........my...........God!"
Sven grinned. "That's it, honey; talk to me." he encouraged.
In a fraction of a second, the Highlander yelled as his secret inner pleasure
spot was jabbed with his client's dick. The Nord slammed his body up against
that of the suspended man's. He pinched the Immortal's tits again and again
as he poured his body fluids into that of MacLeod's.
A long while later, Sven pulled himself out of Pretty Boy and released all
four restraints. However, when Duncan pointedly looked down at his own still
bound penis, the Albino shook his head. "No, Pretty Boy, I want you to stay
that way for a long while yet."
A quiet knock at the door was answered with a brief, "Come in." by the Albino.
It was Sam holding the now familiar leash in his broad hands. He slipped it
over Duncan's head and fit the choker collar snugly around his neck. The Nord
refused to allow MacLeod a robe to cover his nakedness and erect rod. The
black guard led the Highlander out of the private room. Sven, dressed in a
purple velvet robe, followed them. Duncan was led to the main room. Everyone
stopped and ogled the naked man. Mac dropped his eyes as a bright flush
spread over his face and body. He jumped and halted when Thordsen pinched his
butt.
"Look up into their faces, Pretty Boy. I'm proud of your gorgeous body. I
want everyone to know that, for tonight, you belong to me." So saying that,
he reached a groping hand down between the Scot's naked legs and fondled
Duncan's balls before poking a dry finger up into his rectum.
"Please, don't," Duncan whispered, blushing furiously.
The Nord bent him forward and stepped back for the clients and other girls to
clearly see Pretty Boy's naked ass. He reached down and popped a stinging
slap to each of Duncan's cheeks before again probing his rectum, this time
with two fingers.
"Isn't he beautiful, Arch?" he called to a florid faced, heavy set balding
man pawing Veronica's breasts. "Would you like a taste of him?"
Arch stood up and waddled over to them. Grinning broadly at MacLeod, he
replied, "Sure would, boss. He's a cutey."
Sam stepped back when Thordsen jerked MacLeod's leash until he stood erect.
He held the leash tightly as Arch leaned in and plundered Mac's open mouth
with his wet, beer tasting tongue. When Arch was satisfied, the heavy man
pinched both of the Highlander's breasts. He then grabbed MacLeod's
imprisoned shaft and squeezed the bound organ. Duncan grimaced but remained
stoically silent. Arch turned Mac around and tilted him face down over the
back of a chair. The fat man unzipped his pants and plunged his dry cock into
the Highlander's exposed rectum. After what seemed an eternity of stabbing
pain and slapping flesh, Arch emptied his fluid into the Immortal. He finally
jerked himself out and again pinched one of Duncan's tits.
"Thanks, boss, for sharing him." He then patted Duncan's face and added,
"You've got a great ass, Whore." he told the Scot. He then stood back as Sam,
Duncan and Sven resumed their trek across the main salon.
Sven called back, "Anytime, Arch. I always share my whores."
(I've got to get out of here, somehow, and soon, before I lose myself
completely.) the Scotsman thought.
What he did not see was the black majordomo frowning at MacLeod's treatment.
Sam had experienced and seen much in his fifty-six years, both good and bad.
He'd pretty much been content to leave things as they were. He was paid a
good salary; he didn't have to hump the customers anymore; and he was free to
come and go whenever he liked. Alice Farrington was a good boss. The two of
them had an acceptable, working relationship.
Sam remained silent as he and Pretty Boy, still followed closely by Thordsen,
entered the swimming pool area. 'The Springs' was an exclusive house of
prostitution located in southern Nevada. Because the state sanctioned 'the
business' they did not have to be on the alert for any legal repercussions.
Their customers were all affluent to the extreme and paid huge sums of money
to be able to do anything they wanted to the whore of their choice, whether
it was male or female.
Pretty Boy was something else again. The man was downright beautiful with
that long, dark brown hair, heavy eyebrows and eyelashes, a luscious kissable
mouth and pecs to die for. Sam didn't much care for the hormone injections
being given the new boy but all the customers and even the gals liked to suck
Pretty Boy's milk laden tits. For that matter, Sam wasn't above wanting a sip
or two of the kid's nectar himself. Sam half way smiled as he noticed the
whore's dimpled bottom swaying seductively in front of him. The kid wasn't
aware of just how gorgeous a body he had.
Another thing Sam noticed was that Pretty Boy was in top physical condition.
A man couldn't keep in that kind of shape without a lot of exercise. He could
be deadly, too.
That was very obvious to the black man. If it wasn't for the mild
tranquilizers they were giving Pretty Boy in his food, he would've escaped
long before now. As it was, he didn't expect the boy to stay very much
longer.
Sam stepped away from the edge of the pool and watched Thordsen shove the
Scot into the warm water. Five of the hostesses, as Alice liked to call them,
were awaiting the two men. They flocked around Pretty Boy and his client. The
Nord instructed Pretty Boy to float on his back. When the man was in
position, two of the girls separated his legs while another lowered her warm
mouth onto his bound erection which stuck upright out of the water like a
flag pole. Another one dove under the water and began teasing Pretty Boy's
sacs. She kept one hand on his twin pouches while with the other she
separated his cheeks and drove her tongue up into his rectum. Pretty Boy
gasped and attempted to lunge away at the invasive stimuli. He was held
firmly in place by a now naked Thordsen and the other four women. Each of
them took turns sucking first one orifice, then another until Pretty Boy was
gasping from over arousal and unfulfilled ejaculation. Thordsen merely
laughed as he savaged the Immortal's mouth with his tongue and lips.
After the group began to tire, one of the girls climbed out of the water and
pushed a cylinder shaped, rubber raft into the pool. When the object was
positioned in front of Pretty Boy, he was hoisted up onto it. Lying on his
stomach, Duncan's legs were spread apart. His beleaguered penis was inserted
into an open circle. In this way, someone could swim underneath the boy and
suck on his shaft while another could work on his butt. Alice had dreamed up
this contraption and although it was kind of weird, it was popular and added
quite a bit of money to the coffers.
By this time, Pretty Boy was moaning and groaning incoherently from the
erotic assault of the five women and one man. Sven swam into position in
between the man's legs and shoved his rigid sex tool into Pretty Boy's ass.
The whore yelled out, "No! Yes! I don't know!" in his confusion.
It was apparent to Sam that a part of the boy was enjoying all of it. At the
same time, another part of him was telling him it was wrong. A corner of
Sam's full pink lips turned up. He knew just exactly what Pretty Boy was
feeling. As the popular saying nowadays went, 'He'd been there, done that.'
when he was first brought to the Springs. Sam could hear the screams of
delight and applause coming from the main salon. Alice had cameras rigged in
here as well as the other rooms. Anyone in any part of the huge palace of sex
could watch what was happening in any of the rooms.
In the early hours before dawn, Sam lifted Pretty Boy's exhausted body from
the pool and carried the sleeping man into his bedroom. Laying him gently
onto the mattress, the black majordomo pushed back his wet hair from his lax
face. Pretty Boy's shaft was still tied. He'd not been afforded any relief.
"Enough's enough." Sam mumbled. He released the leather strap binding Pretty
Boy's cock and lowered his large mouth onto the rigid penis. Sam swirled his
expert tongue all around the huge protuberance and into the semen filled
slit. He felt the boy stiffen then erupt into his waiting mouth, not
relinquishing it until it was limp and flaccid. Sam hesitated, then decided
to reward himself to the kid's nectar. He moved up Duncan's body and consumed
each of the huge breasts in his questing mouth.
When he was fully satiated, Sam stood up and drew the bed covers over the
worn-out man's naked body. He snapped a handcuff around Pretty Boy's right
wrist and turned around to leave the room.
"Sam?"
The black man turned back to the whore. "What is it?"
"Thanks......" the thick brogue filled voice whispered before the dark, silky
eyelashes lowered onto the olive skinned face in sleep.
Sam nodded. "Anytime, boy. It was my pleasure. It's the least I can do." and
closed the door behind him.
The Highlander bent his left knee and stretched his upper body to the side.
He held the position for a slow count of ten. He then extended his body to
the right side and repeated the movement. MacLeod had been performing his
ritual morning kata for almost an hour. His bare chest was soaked with
perspiration. His long, sweaty hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Errant
curls framed his moisture covered face.
Duncan's over abundant breasts both hurt and interfered with his movements,
but that didn't stop him. This was the first time he'd been allowed any
freedom in the six weeks since he'd been kidnapped and brought to 'The
Springs.' The Scot's disused leg and arm muscles trembled, yet he forced them
into the ancient Japanese art form he'd learned from Hideo Koto, his Japanese
Samurai teacher back in the late 1700's.
Sam Barstow's shining black eyes gleamed in appreciation of the perfect
symmetry of body and motion he was witnessing. This man they treated as a
woman and whore was, in actuality, a formidable foe. Sam wouldn't want the
unenviable task of meeting Pretty Boy in a dark alley or on a battle field.
The black man had served on board an aircraft carrier in Desert Storm.
Without a doubt, the man he was watching reminded him of the Navy Seals with
whom he himself had served.
(Pretty Boy doesn't have any business being here.) he mused.
MacLeod relaxed back into the bubble bath. He'd been given the usual two
enemas by Alice before being immersed in this perfumed heaven. It was a
routine to him now. Although his groin hadn't been shaven; it usually was.
The delicate white flowery aroma filled the Scot's nostrils and clung to his
pampered body. Alice had a thing about gardenias, at least where MacLeod was
concerned. The Madame made sure all the perfumed powders, lotions and
colognes that were applied to the Highlander's body were of that one
fragrance. He'd always remember the beautiful owner of the swankiest whore
house in Nevada when he saw the distinctive blossoms.
Mac closed his eyes and sank even further into the water. (I'd get used to
this.) he mused. (I wonder if Methos?........) Duncan smiled at the thought
of his lover. (He'd be in here with me.) The Highlander daydreamed of the
ancient Immortal. The old man had swiftly become an important person in his
life. Even though their friendship had been a mere matter of months, MacLeod
cared deeply for the five thousand year old man. (I've got to get out of
here.) Mac's thread of memories involving the chaotic and erotically satisfy
ing experiences he'd had with the ancient finally trailed the Immortal into a
nap.
"Pretty Boy?" Alice softly whispered as her cool lips brushed against his wet
curl fringed forehead.
The Scot awoke and cracked a slight grin. "Alice? Oh, hi, sorry, I fell
asleep."
The older woman caressed his bubble covered shoulder. "It was my pleasure.
I've always wanted to awaken a Sleeping Beauty prince with a kiss."
Duncan stood up out of the water. He was now unmindful of his nudity. "Are
you sure I won't turn into a frog?" he teased.
The blonde shook her head and tweaked his semi-aroused shaft. "Not a chance,
Lover." She paused and stared pointedly at his enlarged rod. "Although that
makes me wonder just who you were dreaming about."
The Highlander's skin pinked all over his nude body. "...........uh,
just.....someone." he hesitantly replied.
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Sam, Monica, Bambi
and Veronica entered laden with clothes and other trifles for their star
performer. Duncan's heavy eyebrows lowered as he backed up.
"Now, Pretty Boy, behave yourself." the cute young blonde named Bambi chided.
"You love this; you know you do."
The Scot hadn't a prayer of resistance against all of them, including Sam's
ever present muscular strength. Relenting, he shrugged his shoulders and
whispered, "Whatever you want....."
Veronica shoved him down into a chair and began styling his long dark hair in
a mass of ringlets framing his face and shoulders. Alice worked on his make
up, applying extra dark eye shadow and eyeliner. Monica grabbed one of his
hands and began applying fire engine red nail polish to his nails, while
Bambi lifted one of his feet into her lap and began doing the same thing to
his toenails. When the two manicurists were finished they sprinkled golden
glitter onto both his fingernails and toenails.
"Now, stand up." Alice instructed the Scot. "....and turn towards me."
She picked up a diamond from the makeup table and coated the back of the
stone with glue. Alice then slipped it into Mac's navel.
"Alice, no........".
He was summarily ignored. Monica picked up a bit of white satin, but Bambi
grabbed it out of her hands.
"Let me do it."
Duncan rolled his expressive brown eyes. The girl fitted an open cup white
satin bra around his chest and unusually developed breasts. She fit the stiff
under wire beneath his nipples which drew them up and out. Bambi then
fastened the snaps in the back and turned the Immortal around to the full
length mirror.
"Now, don't you look luscious, Pretty Boy?" she bragged.
MacLeod groaned. "Oh, yeah, just heaven." he groused.
He wasn't ready for the next portion of his attire. Sam turned him around and
leaned him over a table. The graying black man picked up a black leather
circular apparatus and separated the dimpled globes of Mac's bottom.
Duncan tried to twist around to see what the majordomo was doing. "What's
that?" he demanded.
Alice grinned when Sam loudly popped one of Mac's cheeks and growled, "Be
still, Pretty Boy."
"Ow! Not so hard!" The Immortal yelped and rubbed his stinging bottom.
"That is an ass plug, Pretty Boy." Veronica informed him. "That's to keep you
from.............."
"I know what it's to keep me from, thank you very much, but no thank you." he
pouted.
Duncan tried to raise up but Sam shoved him over onto the table yet a third
time. Before the Highlander could utter another sound, the huge man had
shoved the appliance up into the Scot's ass. The black man popped Mac's butt
once more before allowing him to stand and turn around to face him. The
mildly outraged Immortal glared menacingly at the guard. Sam just lifted his
shoulders as if to say, I just do what they tell me to.
MacLeod's eyes truly widened when he saw a pair of white leather briefs in
Alice's hands. The Madame just shook her head in amusement.
"Pretty Boy, these are chastity briefs." she informed him.
Unspeaking, Duncan stepped into the skin tight shorts. Alice pulled them up
over his hips. She stuffed some material in the cuff that enclosed his shaft
and sacs. When she was satisfied she zipped up the closure and secured it
with two small locks.
"Well?" she asked him when she was through.
"I feel like I'm wearing a damned girdle." he complained.
MacLeod's attire was completed with a sky blue, floor length robe. It had a
long train and was covered in feathers. Sam fitted a gold chained choker
necklace around Duncan's neck and attached a gold plated leash to it.
"Pretty Boy, you'll be a sensation." Bambi bragged.
The Highlander didn't answer her; he only frowned in frustration.
Alice approached him with a glass of water and three pills. "Here, take
these."
Duncan looked askance at his boss and questioned, "What are those?"
The Madame shoved the tablets into his mouth and held the glass of water up
for him to drink. He tried to shove them into the side of his jaw, but the
ever alert Sam reached over and pinched his nose off so he couldn't breathe.
When he gasped, Alice reached in and shoved the pills further down his open
throat. She then rubbed his Adam's apple until she was certain he'd swallowed
them.
"They're just a little something to liven you up. You're a special treat for
my guests tonight."
Pretty Boy's entourage consisted of Alice, Sam and the three women. They all
paused at the grand salon's entrance. The ballroom sized area was filled with
at least thirty or forty customers. Duncan glanced over the crowd and
recognized Chris, the guitar player, Sayers who'd bought his services the
first night and the skinny runt who'd practically dogged his steps every
night. Mac felt warm and was having strange, kinky feelings. He found himself
noticing how tight some of the women's clothes were and comparing the size of
some of the men's cocks. (What's the matter with me?) he thought, but didn't
have time to ponder it any longer.
As usual, all conversation ceased and every eye riveted to his six foot
vision of loveliness. Duncan MacLeod made a gorgeous woman. Alice's skills
softened his masculine features and with the hormone injections transformed
the rugged Highland warrior into an alluring, desirable woman.
Duncan couldn't help but blush under the intense scrutiny, which only added
to his desirability. Alice, Sam and MacLeod made their way to the center of
the room. After a brief sweeping survey of her customers, the attractive
Madame lifted her hands for silence.
"Welcome to The Springs, ladies and gentlemen. We hope your visit tonight
will be entertaining for you and profitable for us."
Her comment triggered a ripple of laughter as the group took their seats in a
section arranged in a semi circle. Alice stepped to the side to allow Sam to
lead Pretty Boy up beside her.
"We have a special treat for some lucky person or persons. The enticingly
beautiful Queene, Pretty Boy, on my right has been uniquely prepared for this
evening's amusement." She paused and moved to his side. "He has some
surprises beneath his robe."
For effect, she reached over and drew his robe off his left shoulder.
MacLeod's taut, full breast peeked out of the open bra and glistened in the
spotlight shining on him. The crowd seemed to release a collective gasp
before she replaced the garment.
"The bidding will also be different. Each individual act will have to be
bought. For instance, who will remove his robe? Who will suck one of his
tits? Who will suck the other one? Which one of you will be the fortunate
person to fondle him? And, for the grand finale, Pretty Boy is wearing a
special undergarment that can only be removed by opening its two locks. You
will be bidding for the keys to those locks."
The room erupted into a furor of comments of what they would find when Pretty
Boy was undressed. They quietened when Alice once again lifted her hands.
"After he is completely nude, the bidding will be reopened as to what exactly
will be done to him." The woman hesitated as everyone held their breath for
what she would say next. "..........and whatever functions he performs and
with whomever he does them with will be in this room visible to everyone
here."
A look of dismay settled over MacLeod's face. The sex crazed idiots would do
almost anything. As if answering Mac's sudden reluctance, Alice added, "The
only stipulation is that Pretty Boy not be injured in any way. After all, he
is my favorite girl."
The bidding commenced and the highest bid of $500.00 went to a tall redhead
in a silver sequined dress to remove his feather robe. She strode over to
MacLeod and caressed his cheek before reaching for the ties that held the
creation together. The woman ran her long fingernails underneath the edges of
the robe fastened at his neck before slowly slipping the garment off his left
shoulder, then his right shoulder. She stepped back as his bra and chastity
briefs were revealed. Everyone's lips were practically drooling. Nor did the
lady stop until she had tickled his arms and stomach with her nails.
Duncan gasped as a flood of heat filled his groin and face. He could feel his
rod and balls wanting to enlarge. Mac found himself wishing they would just
get on with it, so someone could remove the damn pants and fuck him
senseless. His breasts also grew hard as his nipples tightened and begged for
attention.
Alice calmly took her time until the next winner was the skinny runt. Duncan
grimaced but, much to his chagrin, he found himself leaning his chest forward
to force his breast further into the little man's hot mouth. The little guy
took his time and rubbed his tongue around and around the aerola of Mac's
left breast. He nibbled all around the bulging globe before settling his lips
onto the teat and begin sucking the milk Duncan's breast contained. When the
man was finished, he had a ring of white milk around his mouth and a look of
sheer bliss on his face.
MacLeod thought the bidding for his right breast would never end. Finally,
the guitarist, Chris won that bid and almost bolted from his chair to stand
in front of the Highlander. Although Mac's mind told him he should be
revolted by all of this, he found himself straining into the gray haired
man's hands and mouth. He couldn't wait until the older man latched his teeth
onto his teat and began sucking him. Duncan couldn't help but moan and close
his eyes from the ecstasy of Chris' nursing his breast.
When the man was finally finished, Duncan wasn't sure he could stand much
longer. His groin and breasts were still on fire. He felt as if he hadn't
been touched at all. The bidding then reopened for the lucky one to remove
Pretty Boy's bra. Alice broadly grinned and Sam shook his head when a lanky
cowboy with a Stetson hat paid $1000.00 for the privilege.
MacLeod tried to appear cool and nonchalant, but inside he was burning with a
monumental need to strip down and turn his ass up to the Nevadan. The
westerner removed his hat and ran a gnarled hand through his long blond hair.
He swaggered up to the Immortal and licked his thick lips.
"I've wanted to do this ever since they brought you here, girlie." he
bragged.
He first grabbed both of the Scot's breasts in his hands and pinched each
nipple. The blond kept massaging and rubbing the twin mounds until Duncan was
in a mindless torment of erotic need. His arms then laced around MacLeod's
chest to reach the snaps in the back of the garment. Rex hugged Mac tightly
to his chest and nuzzled and licked his right ear as he ever so slowly
unsnapped the bra. Once it was unfastened, it dropped unheeded to the floor.
The man then stepped away and bowed deeply and bellowed loudly, "Thank you,
ma'am, for that special privilege. You have gorgeous tits."
Duncan's brain was dizzy with desire and confusion. On the one hand, his
brain told him the guy was wrong; he was a man, not a woman. Yet, his prick
and balls were answering that the young man was right. He was both a man and
a woman. MacLeod didn't really care, just so they would get down to the sex
part.
As the Highlander wiggled and twisted in lust, the albino watched him
carefully. He was biding his time, because he intended to be the one that
fucked Pretty Boy.
(Alice has given him something to make him hot. It's all the guy can do to
stand up under all this teasing.) he thought to himself.
Sayers won the bidding and the key to unlock the lower part of Duncan's white
leather chastity briefs. Alice turned MacLeod around so that his back was
visible to the audience. She caressed her hand over his skin tight leather
butt. The audience crowed when the whore thrust his ass into her touch and
twisted it in sexual need.
The suave business man, Sayers, strode up to Pretty Boy. "You've got one hot
ass, kid. I could do this all night long."
He then took the key from Alice and slid his hand between MacLeod's legs.
Duncan panted and rocked his pelvis into Sayers' groping hand. "Please?" he
begged. Sayers took his time, however, and rubbed the Scot's imprisoned cock
and balls. Every touch and caress sent waves of white heat surging through
the Highlander's body and communicated his need to everyone in the room.
Bidding was stiff for the final key, but the albino was true to his word and
paid a hefty $5000.00 for it. The winner shrugged out of his jacket and tie
before rolling his sleeves up. He then walked over to Pretty Boy and began
tonguing a path from MacLeod's throat down to his navel and to the waistband
of the pants. Duncan was in such a frenzy by this time, that Sam had to step
in behind him, snap the choke collar up tight and allow him to lean back
against his broad frame for support.
The pale man quickly opened the lock, unzipped the pants and allowed them to
drop down around the Highlander's ankles. MacLeod heavily sighed and thrust
his groin up into the man's hands. Sven laughed and pinched his sacs.
"It's not going to be that easy, girlie." he promised.
He ordered a table to be brought to the center of the room. Looking over at
Alice, Sven offered, "I'll pay you ten thousand dollars for him for this
evening."
"As long as you do it here in front of my customers, go ahead." the Madame
replied.
The albino nodded. He instructed Sam to lift MacLeod up onto the waist high
table. Sam then lifted Mac's wrists up above his head and fastened a pair of
restraints around them, looping the tether around a bar that edged the
specially designed piece. Sam parted Duncan's thighs and pressed his knees
down onto the table until the Scot was in an open frog position. He strapped
down Pretty Boy's ankles with another restraint and stepped back.
Sven nodded and a basin with towels and a straight edged razor was brought to
him. He rubbed his hand over Duncan's exposed groin and laughed when he tried
to lift up his hips into the caress.
"You have far too much hair down there. You know I like my women smooth and
nude all over." Sven matter of factly stated.
The pale faced man picked up a can of shaving cream and sprayed it directly
onto the Highlander's brown curls framing his sex tools. When Duncan gasped
and twitched from the cool foam, he laughed and picked up the razor. Quickly
and efficiently, Sven shaved the whore's groin, lifting his bulging sacs and
moving the rock hard dick out of his way. He reached over for another piece
of leather and tied Duncan's cock at its base so that the Scot couldn't eject
his semen. Pulling down on his testicles and looped another strap at their
base to effectively prevent Pretty Boy from any stimulation communicating
from them to his cock.
Alice glanced at Sam and nodded toward Pretty Boy. The majordomo took his
boss' cue and reached over to release the restraints on Duncan's legs. He
then unlocked his handcuffs and helped him climb off the table.
"Hey, I'm paying for this." Sven objected.
"You've paid to remove the chastity briefs and shave his groin." the Madame
interjected. "You have not paid for abusing him. I will not allow my best
whore to be injured."
Sven abruptly closed his gaping mouth. "How dare that bitch talk to me that
way." he murmured. Taking a step toward her, the albino immediately saw
Alice's six guards move into a semicircle around her, Sam and Pretty Boy.
Thinking twice, he backed off and stalked over to a chair.
Alice gazed sternly at the albino. "Now then, shall we proceed?"
Duncan stood slightly weaving, leaning against Sam's broad, muscular chest.
His penis hurt like hell and his balls felt like they were being yanked down
to his knees. Even his butt throbbed from the rubber stopper still inside
him. Unfortunately, Mac's body was still sexually stimulated to the maximum
from the pills Alice had made him take. He needed some relief and fast. His
mind had almost ceased to function.
Alice once again turned the Scot so that his back faced his group of avid
customers. She leaned him over front ways until the men and women saw the
black rubber plug still in his rectum. The Madame tapped her finger on its
center.
"As you can see, Pretty Boy has yet one more thing inside him before he
can........be.......uh, penetrated, shall we say?"
The group erupted into gales of laughter. They were paying a handsome sum of
cash at Pretty Boy's expense and were intent on gleaning every possible
benefit.
"What will you bid to pop his cork?" she proposed, laughter filling her body.
The little man with the fat cheeks stood up and announced in a clear strong
voice, "Madame Alice, I'd like to take it out for $5000.00."
The rest of the people in the room murmured their surprise at the short man
paying such a hefty sum. Alice reached over and pinched Pretty Boy's
protruding bottom before replying, "Phillip, you may have that privilege. And
you can do it any way you want to."
The accountant fairly stalked his prey. His cheeks were reddened and his lips
drooling with anticipation of what he was about to do. He couldn't believe
his luck. Phillip Gordan had came tonight for a special treat with one of the
girls. Never in his wildest dreams, had he imagined his reward would be doing
something to Pretty Boy's luscious body.
Gordan waited while the whore was once again leaned over the table and his
legs spread apart. Sam held the beautiful man tightly with the choke chain
and bound wrists, while another of the guards secured Pretty Boy's legs. That
left the whore's vulnerable ass sticking out and waiting for the little man's
pleasure.
Phil strode up to Pretty Boy and ran a wet, fat hand over the whore's
dimpled, delectable bottom and down his flank. He reached over and tongued
into the crease that separated the golden globes down to their hidden
entryway. Phillip had wanted to do this to this man/woman ever since that
first night when he'd fondled those same rounded mounds. He separated the two
halves and bent over. He began to tease the aroused whore with his lips and
teeth all around the deeply wedged, black circle of rubber.
Duncan felt perspiration dot his forehead as he felt the little guy's wet
appendage circle around and around the foreign object within him. Streaks of
white lightening- like rapture flooded his body. He shook with need and
pushed against the buyer's mouth, wanting him to remove that damn plug and
fuck him. Mac wasn't sure just how much longer his sex driven body could
continue as it was.
Phillip felt the whore's erotic responses to him and leaned in even further
to dip his hot tongue into the other man's bottom. Finally, however, he
reached in with his lips and teeth and grasped the edges of the hard rubber
circle. Phil twisted his mouth and lips agonizingly slowly before he finally
emerged from between the whore's legs with the appliance in his mouth. It was
almost as if he'd delivered a baby. He basked in the applause and bowed to
his delighted audience before reluctantly taking his seat.
Unbeknownst to the Highlander, a slight figure in a dark green raincoat stood
at the very back of the salon. Due to the size of the room and Duncan's
groggy, sensually driven state of mind and body, he failed to recognize the
unmistakable energy rippling from the solitary figure. He'd been standing
there for quite some time and had to smile at the Scot's responses to the
drugs and the erotic services he provided his customers.
The man's hazel eyes gleamed with amusement. (MacLeod will never forgive me
for allowing this to continue as long as I have.) Methos thought. (......but,
I don't really care; I can't resist. There's something about Duncan's naked
body that just does weird, kinky things to me.)
"Now, then, the next phase on the table, so to speak," she quipped and
grinned at the audience's laughter. "Pretty Boy needs to be repositioned. If
you please, Sam?"
she requested. The black man helped the Scot up from the table, but kept his
back to the audience and his posterior prominently displayed.
Alice finished her sentence. "Shall we say his bottom?"
Once again the group dissolved into laughter. For effect, Alice traced her
long fingernail down the crease between Pretty Boy's cheeks. She then barely
tipped her finger barely in the Immortal's rosebud shaped opening. Duncan
loudly groaned, twisted his butt in a cute circle and impaled himself further
onto his owner's finger. The Madame left her finger within her whore for a
few more seconds before removing it.
"As you can see, Pretty Boy is very ready, willing and able to provide for
your pleasure, purchased at a very high price of course." Tweaking Mac's
bottom, she announced, "Shall we open the bidding at one thousand dollars?"
Sayers, Sven and several others quickly increased the amount to well over ten
thousand dollars. Alice smiled and bent Pretty Boy even further forward, thus
protruding his twin globes to be even more visible to the buyers. "I've never
seen a Queene with an ass quite like this one, gentlemen. It would be a shame
to waste beauty and talent like this for a paltry ten thousand."
It was at this precise moment, the stranger began walking forward and in a
deathly still voice announced, "I will bid fifty thousand dollars for Pretty
Boy's services."
By this time, the nauseous wave announcing a fellow Immortal washed over
Pretty Boy's naked body. He lifted himself up and turned around to face the
audience.
Searching the group, his doe brown eyes settled on a pair of amused hazel
ones now standing near the front of the room. "Methos." Duncan whispered. The
Highlander was, at first, thrilled to see his friend and lover. In the next
breath, however, he realized his nudity, his dick and balls imprisoned and
hard as rocks and his entire body craving anyone to quickly fuck him hard and
long. The Scot's face and body blushed a brilliant red from the roots of his
curled dark hair to his fire engine red painted and glittered toenails.
"Well, now, sir. You must want Pretty Boy very badly." Alice recognized.
The ancient paced another step toward his lover and looked the Highlander
squarely in the eyes. "Yes, Madame, I do want him very, very much."
Sam had not missed the unspoken interaction between Pretty Boy and the
stranger. They knew each other; that much was obvious. A sense of
satisfaction swept through the black man's body. Maybe this was Pretty Boy's
chance to get out of here. He hoped so. His attention, however, was then
refocused back onto Alice, his boss and owner of The Springs.
"You understand, sir, that you have to take him here, in front of everyone."
the woman clarified.
Methos' vision never wavered from MacLeod's. "Yes, I understand. It would be
my pleasure to offer relief to this beleaguered man."
Mac's skin crimsoned once more in embarrassment, but hoped Alice would take
the offer. He needed a good lay and fast. Thank God it would be Methos this
time.
Alice nodded her head. "Done."
Methos reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a roll of bills and handed
them to the Madame.
"I don't suppose I'll need to count this, will I?" she asked, a small smile
on her attractive face.
Methos returned her smile and replied, "No. I want this done right; I want a
bed and to have him as I wish."
Alice nodded to a couple of her men. They immediately went to fulfill the
demand. "Anyway you like, as long as it's in here and in front of us."
The ancient dipped his head in assent as he pulled off his duster. He wore
his typical olive green baggy sweater and a pair of dusty jeans. When the
circular bed was hauled into the middle of the salon, Sam pulled on Pretty
Boy's chain. The Highlander meekly followed, silently wondering what the old
man was up to. He had a plan; he always did.
When Sam started to shackle Mac to the bed, Methos laid his hand over
MacLeod's wrists. "That won't be necessary. I can handle him." To
demonstrate, he drew back his hand and popped a stinging slap on Duncan's
buttocks. "Get your ass over there." he growled.
Duncan jumped and yelped, more at the sudden surprise of the spanking than
from pain and certainly not in fear of the five millennia old man. Methos
followed him to the bed and pulled his sweater off over his head. As he
unbuckled his belt, he nodded to the Highlander, "Lay down on your back."
MacLeod silently obeyed and automatically spread his legs apart. Every fiber
of his body ached for copulation. He couldn't help but wiggle his naked butt
on the satin sheet in anticipation. Mac drew back, however, when he noticed
the evil 'I'm going to get even with you for making me worry' look on the
Immortal's face. The old man nonchalantly stepped out of his jeans but left
his boxers on.
Methos laid down on his side facing MacLeod. He rested his head on a bent
left arm and gazed at the vision of loveliness Alice and her people had
created from the once shy and modest Scot. He made a mental note of the
Scot's open position and desperate look on his face. The ancient cracked one
of his sly smiles and plucked the leather bindings off Mac's penis and
testicles. "We don't need these either." He leaned over and softly blew into
the Highlander's right ear. Duncan shivered as goose pimples dotted his silky
skin.
The older Immortal reached down and lazily began tracing circles around
MacLeod's denuded groin. "I like this. I think I'll keep you naked all over
when I get you home." he whispered in his ear.
Duncan groaned as his lover's hand stroked his rigid, weeping shaft and
engorged sacs. "Not a chance." he retorted. The Scot shivered yet again when
the ancient's mouth settled on one of his tits.
"Mm-mm, you have milk, too, in these. I'll have to find out what drugs she
uses."
Methos murmured as he nursed on first one nipple, then the other of his
sexually incensed partner.
MacLeod lost it, though, when the other Immortal shifted himself down between
his extended legs. Methos lifted up the Highlander's long limbs and looked
over at Alice.
"Um, could I have some assistance in holding these appendages out of my way?"
he innocently requested.
Alice laughed and replied, "Of course; Sam, Donnie, help the man."
Duncan frowned at his friend but cooperated when the two men lifted and bent
his legs back over his torso. Now, Methos had a clear field, so to speak, of
Duncan's ass. He clasped Mac's cock in a tight fist; he then licked down into
the leaky slit. MacLeod roared from the stimulus and almost bucked an
unsuspecting Sam and Donnie off him. Methos grinned evilly and drew back his
hand and swatted the Highlander on his vulnerable butt again. Duncan tried to
raise up, but was held fast when Sam applied some pressure on the choker
chain still around his neck.
"Behave, or Father will have to spank his little boy." Methos derided the
other man.
Mac rolled his eyes but immediately began groaning again when Methos leaned
over and dipped his hot tongue into the Scot's webbed opening. Sam and Donnie
held the Immortal snugly as the other man circled and dipped and laved and
nibbled all around and into the hot opening.
"Please, please......" Duncan begged his lover.
"What do you want, Pretty Boy? Tell me or I'll keep this up all night." the
older man promised.
"Fuck me." Duncan whispered.
"What's that? I don't think I heard you?" he teased as he popped an
undefended thigh, all the while continuing his erotic torture of the
Highlander's ass. "Say it louder, Pretty Boy, or you'll never get to come."
MacLeod groaned and tossed his head back and forth on the bed, his body in
flames of unfulfilled passionate heat. "I said fuck me, please." he yelled.
Alice, Sam and the others dissolved into gales of laughter at the demanding
antics of the stranger, who was receiving responses from the Queene no one
else had.
Methos dug his tongue again into MacLeod's channel before licking a fiery
trail all over the Scot's denuded groin. "That's what I thought you said."
Instead of plunging himself into the Highlander, he instead sat back on his
heels. "I do believe I'll have to spank you, child, for being a naughty
little girl. You really did not speak fast enough or loudly enough." Methos
hushed for a pregnant moment and then gestured toward the two men holding his
lover. "Gentlemen, if you please, lay him across my lap."
He sat down on the edge of the bed while Sam and Donnie manhandled the
resisting Immortal until he was extended face down across Methos' lap. The
old man drew back his right hand and began applying firm, stinging slaps onto
the Highlander's bottom. Duncan howled like he was ten years old which made
Methos laugh harder and spank harder until the Scot was weeping like a baby.
"I think he's learned his lesson, mates." he told the two men.
Sam and Donnie repositioned the sniffling Immortal once more onto his back
and lifted his legs up so the other man had free access to the Scot's
smarting butt.
Methos leaned over Duncan and whispered, "That'll pay you back for not
dancing at the night club."
Not saying anything else, Methos swathed a fragrant ointment, that curiously
smelled like gardenias, over Duncan's opening and his own cock. In one fluid
motion, he fully sheathed himself into the tight channel.
Pretty Boy gasped and hollered, "Oh, God, yes, that's it! It's about time,
you ass hole."
Unfortunately for Pretty Boy, after Methos extracted his share of the
handsome Immortal's body, several other guests wanted their turn. Alice was
more than willing. She accepted their money and allowed them time with her
star whore. It was the wee hours of the morning before the session was over.
The ancient Immortal remained in the back of the room. Somehow, even if he
couldn't keep Duncan from having to endure it, he wouldn't desert him either.
He hung around until the huge black guard known as Sam gently lifted the
unconscious MacLeod in his arms and carried him out of the room. Before Sam
exited, he glanced toward the silent Immortal and nodded. The older man knew
the majordomo would take care of MacLeod and keep him safe. At least until
Methos could think of a way to get the Highlander away from here.
Sam carried his unresponsive charge to the boy's room and carefully laid him
on his bed. He wasn't sure if Alice was aware of it, but Pretty Boy knew the
lanky man who'd easily shelled out fifty grand to be with the boy. Pretty Boy
was lucky; his buddy looked like he could handle himself almost as well as
the whore could. Sam smoothed MacLeod's sweaty locks back off his face and
neck. He entered the bathroom and wet a wash rag and returned to wash some of
the residue from Pretty Boy's naked body. When he'd finished, he pulled a
blanket up over the sleeping man. Sam smiled as Pretty Boy turned over onto
his left side and folded himself into a ball.
For once, the guard did not lock him to his bed.
Duncan slowly awakened and turned over onto his back. His immortal healing
had regenerated his body hours before, but every muscle in his large frame
ached. He raised his arms over his head and extended his legs into a full
body stretch. It was then that it dawned upon him. He was free! He hadn't
been manacled to the bed last night. The Highlander swung his long legs to
the floor and stood. He momentarily swayed and had to reach an arm out to
steady himself on the bedstead. MacLeod pushed his heavy hair out of his
eyes.
Wrapping a pink satin robe around his nude form, he glanced up into the
dresser mirror and frowned. "Ugh! Pink satin? On a Highland Laird?"
Mac opened his door. No one stood guard outside his room either. Curious, his
head didn't swim so badly either this morning. Had Sam neglected his last
minute rituals of handcuffs, guards and injections to keep the imprisoned
Immortal docile?
Duncan hurriedly made his way to the shower down the hall and bathed. He
wrapped a towel around his hips and padded back to his room. Opening the
closet, he found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that mostly fit him. The only
underwear he had were the flimsy, lacy things they made him wear, so he
decided to go sans briefs. He slipped his bare feet into a pair of sandals
and was almost ready to leave when Alice opened his door and stood in the
entryway.
Her violet eyes widened as she absorbed Pretty Boy's clothes. Something else
about him was also different and not merely his clothes. He held his
disheveled head high and his shoulders thrown back. His chestnut eyes were
clear and penetrating in their confident stare. Pretty Boy's feet were a foot
apart and he was balanced lightly on the balls of his feet. He was every inch
the warrior and was, as he had said the first day he was brought here,
'Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.'
"You're leaving, aren't you? Sam said you would."
MacLeod nodded. "Yes, Alice, I am."
Alice dropped her shoulders in silent resignation. "Well, I knew it wouldn't
be forever, but I had hoped you'd stay at least a year."
Mac swallowed a smile and thought (If she only knew about Immortality). "I
can't say thanks for everything."
The beautiful older woman smiled, "No, of course not."
Duncan crossed the distance between them and laid his hands on her slender
shoulders. "You could easily have treated me a lot worse than what you did,
Alice. For that, I thank you."
The Madame slipped her arms around his broad shoulders and hugged him tight.
"Pretty Boy, if only you'd come into my life twenty years ago, maybe my life
would've been a lot different."
The Highlander bent over and lowered his lush lips onto Alice's soft ones. He
deepened the kiss for a long while. When they finally broke apart, Alice's
eyes were closed and she was breathless.
"Wow, Pretty Boy, if you're not careful, I won't let you leave." she
haltingly whispered.
The Scot's broad chest rumbled with laughter. "Thank you, and my name is
Duncan."
He brushed his lips once more on the top of her head and added with the lilt
of his homeland's brogue in his voice, "May the winds be with you, lass."
".......and with you, too, Duncan MacLeod."
He silently closed the door and failed to see the tears welling up in the cat
house owner's eyes. "If only I'd met you a long time ago, my
darlin'............"
MacLeod was almost to the front door when Sam stepped out of the shadowed
hallway. At first, Mac positioned himself into a fighter's stance with his
left foot slightly ahead of his right, his weight balanced firmly and his
right arm and hand drawn back for a quick chop to the Negro's neck.
"Whoa, easy, Pretty Boy. I'm not going to stop you." The burly majordomo held
up both his hands and slowly approached the Immortal. "I wanted to tell you
good-bye."
MacLeod held his position for a few more seconds as he studied the strong
face with a firm jaw and clear black eyes. Not seeing any threat, he relaxed
and closed the distance between them.
Sam Barstow looked the former whore up and down. He noticed the same
differences in MacLeod's demeanor as had Alice. It was just as the black man
had suspected; this man was extremely dangerous. He could've probably killed
Sam any time he had wanted.
When the silence lengthened, Duncan cleared his throat and ventured, "Was
there anything else you wanted, Sam?"
Barstow's chest grumbled with suppressed laughter. "You look real good,
Pretty Boy" Sam surveyed the other man from head to toe. "Why have you stayed
this long? You could've left at any time if you'd really wanted to."
MacLeod dropped his gaze and blushed furiously. "You see a little too much,
Sam." he quietly answered.
"Some say I do, son." he replied, waiting for a response.
"Well, part of me was repulsed and wanted to get out as soon as I could." Mac
paused and took a deep breath.
".......and the other part of you?" Sam probed.
Mac grinned and twisted his full lipped mouth to the side. "....and the other
half of me was fascinated by the whole thing." The Highlander stepped closer
to the black man. "I'd never been in this situation before. Hell, I'd never
slept with another man before my lo--my friend a couple months ago."
Barstow never moved, waiting for him to continue.
"Okay, I'll admit it, Sam. That stuff really turned me on. I felt more alive
than I have in a very long time." MacLeod once again stopped and turned away
from Sam, as if it would help him keep talking if he did not have to face
him. "Is it wrong, Sam, to feel those things?" Duncan's voice trailed off to
a whisper.
Sam reached out and placed his large, callused hands on the Scot's shoulders
and turned him back around to face him. When MacLeod still didn't look at
him, he grasped Mac's chin and lifted his face. "It's not wrong to get a hard
on from kinky stuff, not if it's with somebody you care about, somebody you
love. It is unforgivable to force a person to do things he hasn't ever done
and get paid for it."
Sam's words penetrated through MacLeod's strict Catholic background. Duncan
unconsciously squared his shoulders and stiffened his ramrod back. "If that's
true, Sam, why are you still here?"
The black man grinned. "Alice is alone here. She needs me. Besides, we were
married ten years ago."
MacLeod's jaw dropped in shock at what he'd just heard. "You mean you own
half of this place?"
"I sure do. That's why Alice and I have been able to keep the syndicate off
our doorstep. Those guys know I mean business." he replied. "I started out
just like you did, but something clicked between the boss lady and me and
well, we got hitched."
Duncan grinned. "Well, you sure had me fooled. Who would've guessed?"
Sam Barstow motioned towards the door. "We've jawed long enough. If you want
to catch up with your friend, you better high tail it out of here."
Mac opened the door and stopped to turn back to the large black man. "Say,
how did you know about Adam? That the man last night was my friend?"
Sam chuckled and replied, "Boy, you haven't ever gotten that hot in the six
weeks you've been with us. Oh, and here's a little something for you to take
with you. Your boyfriend might like you in them." He turned the Highlander
back around and swatted him a good one on his buttocks. "Now, get your ass
gone. Me and Alice have some work to do."
Duncan laughed and briefly gazed at his new friend. "Is this what I think it
is, Sam?"
Barstow chuckled and replied, "What do you think, Pretty Boy?"
"I think Vaya con Dios, Sam. Go with God."
"Same to you, Pretty Boy, same to you."
The black co-owner of The Springs waved once more and closed the heavy door.
MacLeod did not look back as his pace quickened taking him away from the
house of prostitution.
the end
'EPILOGUE'
".......but, what I don't figure is why'd you let those guys that raped you
get away with it, Mac?" Joe Dawson asked, a puzzled look on his grizzled
face.
The Watcher kept wiping shot glasses with a towel and placing them underneath
the bar at his blues' nightclub, 'JOE'S.'
The two Immortals sat on stools opposite their friend. MacLeod was nursing
his usual Scotch and Methos sipping his usual beer. The elder cast a side
long glance at his friend and lover, Duncan MacLeod, known as The Highlander.
Saying nothing, the slender man folded his long, artist's fingers around the
icy mug and shrugged his shoulders.
"Mac?" Joe repeated.
Duncan twisted his rump on the tiny stool seat for perhaps the tenth time in
that many minutes. "I'll catch up with them, Joe, one of these days. Right
now, I just want some peace and quiet." The handsome, pony tailed Scot
twisted again and surreptitiously placed his broad right hand on Methos'
thigh. "Methos and I are......sort of.........tied up.........with something
right now........." he answered with obvious effort.
Meanwhile, the ancient Immortal spewed beer all over himself and their
bartender and friend. He was trying not to fall off his barstool as he held
his sides in gales of laughter. Duncan glared at his lover and twisted his
butt yet again.
Exasperated, Joe wiped his face with the towel he was using and frowned first
at Mac, then Methos, and then back at MacLeod. "What the hell is going on
between you two?" he finally demanded.
Methos' hazel eyes just rolled in obvious merriment and pointed over to his
discomfited partner. "Ask him." he mumbled.
Dawson glared at the Scot. "Well, Mac? One of you two had better answer me."
Meanwhile, MacLeod wriggled his bottom around the small seat yet the dozenth
time and groaned.
Joe slammed the towel down on the bar and grabbed his cane. "That's it!
That's enough! and, by the way, MacLeod, just what in the damned hell is
bothering you? You've been wiggling that ass of yours ever since you got
here?"
Methos dissolved yet again into laughter as a sheepish Scot rolled his
pitiful, puppy dog, brown eyes at the ceiling and feebly attempted to find
another comfortable position for his ass.
"You'd never believe me, Joseph." he helplessly looked over to his lover for
help out of his embarrassing predicament. "Methos?"
The older man waved his hands. "Don't look at me, Duncan. It was your idea in
the first place."
Dawson maneuvered his way from behind the bar and crossed the short distance
to his buddies. He glanced down at MacLeod's butt and looked up into the
Scot's reddened face. Joe shook his head and took another long look at the
Highlander. MacLeod did not wear an over coat, which meant he didn't have his
sword with him.
The Scot wore a form fitting, light blue sweater which, if Joe didn't know
better, looked as though Mac had the biggest set of tits he'd ever seen on a
man. And, as if that wasn't enough, the larger man's slacks were so tight,
the Watcher could clearly see his crack. For that matter, it didn't look to
Joe like the man had any underwear on. If he did, it was squeezing his pecker
to death. A thought tracked across the bar owner's mind. "No, he
couldn't........." he gasped, as he shook his head. "MacLeod, stand up!" he
demanded.
The Highlander sheepishly shook his head.
"Dammit, man, this place is closed and there's nobody around here! I said
stand up and pull down those pants!" the Highlander's Watcher and surrogate
father and friend demanded.
MacLeod gazed longingly over at Methos for support.
The ancient just laughed and refused, saying, "You got yourself into this
one, lover. Do as the man says."
For some unknown reason, the Highland warrior couldn't refuse his Watcher and
best friend. So, reluctantly and very slowly, he slid off the stool and stood
with his head bowed and his eyes cast down upon his feet.
"I said strip, MacLeod." Dawson reiterated. "Right now!"
Mac swallowed, and as though he were in slow motion, unfastened the single
snap at the top of his skin tight, beige trousers. He pulled down the zipper
and with his face turning a brilliant crimson, MacLeod let his pants slide
down his hips and into a heap around his feet.
Joe Dawson stood there agape in stunned surprise. If he didn't know
different, he'd swear MacLeod had a pair of ..........? "Those are Chastity
Pants!" he exclaimed.
Reaching over he slid a gnarled hand down the front of the rigidly fitting,
white leather briefs encasing the Highlander's hips and groin. The Immortal's
prick had to be pressed into all that somehow. "What the hell, Duncan
MacLeod, are you crazy?"
As though he were in front of his own father, Ian MacLeod when he was a
twelve-year-old boy, the Scot blushed and whispered, "We.....Methos and I had
a bet...........and I........uh...........lost...........and...." his husky,
Scottish accented voice trailed off.
Methos, meanwhile, climbed down off his stool, still laughing, and popped the
Highlander's tightly bound bottom a resounding whack. "..........and he
lost!" he crowed. "He has to wear that thing for a whole week!" the ancient
Immortal bragged.
Joe Dawson was dumbfounded. Never in all his years of watching MacLeod would
he have thought the Scot would get roped into something like this. "But, what
if he has to, you know, use the facilities and ........." his raspy voice
trailing embarrassingly off.
Methos cackled and spanked the Highlander's vulnerable butt yet again. "Then
he gets a spanking and ........anything else, I might want him to do." he
smugly added.
"Mac, I never thought you'd ever do the S&M thing." Joe shook his head.
"Damn, man, you're over four hundred years old! Don't you know any better
than that?"
MacLeod jerked his slacks back into place and stormed off toward the door.
Methos, obviously unrepentant for the embarrassing situation he'd placed his
lover into, shrugged his shoulders and followed the love of his life out of
the door.
Joe Dawson gazed at the empty doorway for what seemed ten minutes in shock
before he whispered, "Guess not." Then, he started laughing so hard, he had
to sit down in a nearby chair. He was still there chuckling when Richie Ryan,
MacLeod's student, shuffled through the bar's door and flopped down in an
opposite chair.
"What's up, Dawson? Why you laughing?" he queried, not seeing the Watcher
this amused in a long time.
Joe thought of what Richie would say if he could see his teacher at that
moment and dissolved once again into uncontrollable chuckles. "Richie, you'd
never believe it! Not in a million years!"
'the end' for sure
by Frances Rolfe