Hot Summer Nights Ch. 04

Disclaimer: I don't own the Dukes of Hazzard, not making any money, just cheap thrills.

Warnings: Angst, Slash, Non-Con, BDSM, OOC

Rating: FRAO

Italics and/or // indicates a flashback.

*

He watched from a distance as the two men left the old sawmill. He couldn't understand why the boy didn't tell anybody what the sheriff was doing to him. He couldn't like it, could he? No, there was no way any man would enjoy the things Rosco was undoubtedly forcing on him. Which brought him back to his original question. Why wasn't the Duke boy reporting the attacks he was enduring? There had to be a reason. He'd find it too, or his name wasn't Bert Samuels. He thought back to the start, it had been so easy to manipulate the middle-aged sheriff.

//Bert waited in the cheap hotel room for the occupant to return. Namely, Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane of Hazzard County. Bert had sat in his prison cell for the past two years, plotting his revenge against Coltrane and his brother-in-law J.D. Hogg. It had taken him some time to figure out the perfect way to destroy them both. Best of all, he could also gain revenge against the Duke family for the hand they had in his incarceration. Checking out every book he could find in the prison library, he had studied hard, practicing diligently on fellow prisoners until he was an expert. He had been paroled a month ago and immediately had returned to Hazzard. He had watched his prey carefully, listening to every rumor about the man he could pick up.

Finally he'd gotten the break he'd been waiting for. A seminar on police procedures, god he loved irony, held in Atlanta, far away from Hazzard. He'd broken into the Coltrane home a few days before the seminar. Ignoring the valuables, he had searched for only one thing; the sheriff's schedule and where he would be staying while in Atlanta. He had driven to the city the day before the seminar, checking into the same hotel which would house the sheriff; he settled in to wait.

He didn't have to wait for long. The door opened, admitting Coltrane to the room. Bert waited for the door to shut, then made his move. Before the other man knew what was happening, Bert had stuck a syringe into his arm and depressed the plunger. Almost instantly Coltrane passed out, hitting the floor with a muffled thud. Bert had dragged him to a chair and tied him in it. Moving to the bed, he laid down and picked up the remote for the television. Settling in, he relaxed as he waited for Coltrane to regain consciousness.

The first moan had taken him by surprise, but by the time the sheriff was fully awake Bert was in place and ready to get to work.//

It had been laughably easy to hypnotize the old fool, Bert thought. He had planted the suggestion that the next time one of the Duke boys was in the jail as the only prisoner, Rosco would rape him. Bert had expected that the boy would tell his family and press charges as soon as he was out of the jail. The resulting scandal would destroy Coltrane and by association Hogg. So why hadn't the boy told? Why was he meeting the man in private? Bert quickly came to the conclusion that he would need to keep an eye on the two men until he could figure out exactly what was going. Once he knew that, then he could make sure it became public knowledge.

Ten days passed, days of torture for Bo Duke as he obeyed Rosco's orders. He was slowly being driven insane by the continual torment. Each night when he reached the point where he had to stop masturbating or risk cumming, he would take the coldest shower he could stand. It was the only way he could alleviate the discomfort of his erection. Unfortunately it didn't diminish the desire he felt, and with each night his desire for completion grew.

He had considered going somewhere, one of Jesse's old still sites maybe, and finding relief from the torment. Even going as far as to leave the house one afternoon, alone, and driving to one of the sites. He had quickly discovered that the fear of being caught kept him from even getting an erection, leaving him depressed and more desperate than before.

That had been four days ago. Last night, hot with shame, Bo had decided that he would have to approach Rosco. So here he was, driving around the back roads, searching for the sheriff and cursing his weakness with each mile traveled. There he is, finally, Bo thought to himself. Pulling up next to the sheriff's car, he climbed from the General and carefully approached, his eyes on the ground. "Excuse me sir, may I talk to you sir?" he timidly asked. God he hated the fear Rosco had brought to his life.

Rosco had heard the car pull up of course, had recognized the sound of the powerful engine. Purposely, he kept his head down, focusing on the book he was reading. Looking up, he kept his expression stern. "What is it slut?"

"I'm sorry I took the ring off without your permission sir, it won't ever happen again."

"That's good slut."

"I was wondering sir," Bo licked his lips nervously. "Could you please let me cum sir?"

"Why would I want to do that slut?"

"I don't know sir," Bo quietly replied. "Please sir, I can't stand it any more. Please sir, let my punishment stop," he softly plead.

"There's only one way I'll let you cum slut."

"How sir?"

"You can cum while I'm fucking you," Rosco coldly replied.

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

"What are you thanking me for slut, I didn't say I was going to fuck you. You saying you want me to fuck you slut?"

Bo's face grew hot with shame as he nodded his head.

Rosco smirked, "What was that slut? I can't hear you."

Bo swallowed, "I want you to fuck me sir."

Rosco smiled as he climbed from the car; he walked to the trunk and opened it. "Take these things to the old sawmill and get yourself ready slut. I'll be there in a while." Handing Bo a bag, he shut the trunk and returned to his seat. "Go on slut, oh and this time when I pull up I want you to bend over the conveyor belt and wait for me to come inside."

"Yes sir, thank you sir." With a heavy heart, Bo returned to the General and left for the sawmill. A few minutes later, he arrived and went inside. Slowly he stripped and opened the bag, paling at what he saw inside. He began with the collar and leash. As he attached the cock ring, his hands began to tremble with the knowledge of what would come next. Taking a deep breath, Bo pulled the final item from the bag. Looking at the small devices, he shuddered in anticipation of the pain he knew was coming. Rosco had introduced him to these torture instruments while he was still in the jail; he had quickly grown to hate them. Kneeling on the floor he mentally readied himself. With badly shaking hands, he took one more deep breath and snapped the nipple clamps into place. He was glad he was already kneeling; he was sure the pain would have brought him to his knees if he hadn't already been there. Breathing in panting breaths, he waited for the pain to subside to a tolerable level as he waited for Rosco's arrival.

About the time the pain lessened, Bo heard a car pull up outside. Standing up, he walked to the conveyor belt and leaned over it.

Rosco smiled as he stepped into the sawmill. He leered hungrily at the young man who waited for him, his ass in position for him to use. "Spread your legs slut."

"Yes sir," Bo quietly acknowledged. He trembled with a combination of fear and desire, the desire bringing a flush of shame to his cheeks. How could he desire Rosco's touch, any man's touch, after what he'd been put through? Bo didn't understand his reactions, he only knew that he felt ashamed of himself for having them.

Rosco wasted no time, ten days without that tight ass had him hornier than he'd ever felt in his life. Quickly he rid himself of his clothes and barely taking the time to lube his dick, he plunged into Bo's body. His cry of pleasure mixing with Bo's cry of pain. Rosco grabbed the boy's hips in a bruising grip as he set up a brutal pace, his pleasure rapidly building. "Do you want to cum slut?"

"Yes sir, please let me cum sir," Bo begged, his cock hard and weeping.

Rosco grinned in satisfaction; reaching around the younger man he deftly removed the cock ring. "Cum slut," he ordered.

With a loud cry, Bo quickly fell over the edge of ecstasy. His body trembling and shaking, he came violently, spilling his seed onto the filthy floor.

Caught up in their own pleasure, neither man noticed Bert at the window, happily snapping pictures. Bert grinned, he had the bastard now. If the Duke boy wouldn't report the sheriff for what he'd done, then Bert would just have to do it himself. The tears that streaked the younger man's face, combined with the look of anguished pleasure, made it clear that this was happening against his will. Noticing that Rosco was moving, pulling away from the body in front of him, Bert quickly ducked down out of sight. Moving carefully, he made his way back into the trees to where he'd hidden his car. Opening the door he tossed the camera onto the seat and started to get in. Freezing, one foot in the car, he suddenly reversed course. Quietly closing the door, he went back to the hill that overlooked the old building. Settling down, he prepared to wait for the sheriff to leave. He didn't have to wait long, apparently Rosco didn't have much time to spare today. Thirty minutes after Bert had squatted down, the door of the sawmill opened and out stepped the sheriff. Strutting like a peacock, he made his way to his car, tossing a bag into the trunk and quickly leaving the area. Bert knew he shouldn't, but curiosity had long been one of his faults and now was no exception. Hurrying down the hill, he pushed open the door of the sawmill to the sight of Bo Duke kneeling on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself in abject misery.

Bo's head jerked up at the sound of the door opening, terrified that Rosco had changed his mind, wanting to use him again. "Wwho are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," Bert replied. "What's important is what I am, and that is your salvation."

"Salvation? What do you mean?" Bo pushed himself to his feet, taking an uncertain step away from the stranger.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, I'm not going to hurt you," Bert soothed. The comforting smile he gave Bo, offered no hint to the plan that was even then forming in his devious mind. "I was out here bird watching and I heard your cries of pain."

Bo flushed red, "You ssssaw?"

"Yes I did and it's pretty obvious you aren't here by choice, or am I misreading the situation?"

"No, I ain't here by choice." Bo confirmed, though he made no mention of the shameful desires he had begun to feel.

"So the sheriff is forcing you, raping you?" Bert quietly asked.

"You can't tell anybody," Bo quickly cried out. "Please mister, ya can't tell anybody about this."

"Calm down son," Bert soothed. "I don't understand, don't you want him to pay for what he's doing to you?"

"I can't stop him or..."

"Or?"

"I better not tell you," Bo mumbled, looking away.

"What's your name son?"

"Bo Du..., um just Bo."

Bert smiled, "Hello Bo, my name is Bert. I'd like to help you if you'll let me," he offered.

"Why would you want to help me? You don't even know me."

"I don't like seeing anybody being taken advantage of, especially by those who are supposed to be trusted." Bert waited patiently, when Bo made no response he tried again. "You said I can't tell, please tell me why not."

"I...it's a long story."

"I have time."

Desperate for help and unable to go to his family, Bo found himself pouring out the story to Bert. "Now he owns me, I ain't nothing but a toy for him to do with what he wants, " Bo ended his story. Hanging his head in shame, he waited for the other man to turn his back and walk away.

"Bo, I took pictures that show how miserable you are," Bert reluctantly confessed, while inside he jumped with glee.

"Pictures? You mean today? Of me and Rosco having sex?" Bo stared at Bert, horrified at the prospect.

"No," Bert replied. "Pictures of that man raping you," Bert countered. "Bo what he did was rape and the tears on your face make it clear you were unwilling. I can give you the pictures and negatives, you can use them to trade to him for the video and pictures he has."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I would."

"If I did that, there'd be no proof of what he did, but at least he couldn't force me to let him use me any more," Bo thought out loud.

"There'd still be proof Bo."

"There would?"

"Yes there would," Bert smiled. "You see, I'd make extra copies. You would only give the sheriff two sets and the negatives, but you would keep the other two sets of prints I'd make."

"What would I do with them?"

Bert sighed, "Take them to the State police and have him charged with rape. You don't want him to get away with it, do you?"

"No, but then everybody would know what I am," Bo countered.

"They'd know you're the victim of a horrible crime, that's all they'd know." Bert could see the boy was wavering. As many rumors as he'd heard around town about Coltrane, he'd heard just as much talk about the Dukes. The one thing that seemed to be a common theme was their willingness to help others, even at risk to themselves. Now, he decided, was the time to use that knowledge to his advantage. "Bo, if you don't report him, he could do the same thing to somebody else," Bert calmly pointed out.

Bo's head snapped up, his eyes wide with fear and self-loathing, he hadn't thought of that. The lessons he'd learned at his uncle's knee came back to him and Bo knew what he had to do. "You're right Bert, I have to stop him," Bo firmly decided.

"Good, now I need to develop the film and make prints. I suggest that you contact the sheriff when you leave him, tell him about the pictures and that you want to make a trade. You and I will meet back here tomorrow at two in the afternoon, and I'll give you the pictures and negatives. Tell him to meet you here at four, that will give you time to hide the extra pictures in a safe place and get back here. While you're gone, I'll set up a tape player so you can try to get him to admit to what he did."

"You ain't a cop are ya Bert?" Bo asked.

Bert gave a genuine laugh in reaction to the innocent question. "No Bo, I'm not a cop. Guess maybe I've watched a few too many detective shows and read a few too many Ellery Queen mysteries. I always did want to solve a mystery and catch the bad guy," he lied.

"Oh, good thing for me you came along then."

"I'm glad I came along too Bo, nobody should have to suffer what you have been. Anyway, you come back here just before four and when he arrives you make the trade. Once you have the video and pictures they can be destroyed. Then you take the pictures I took and the tape to the State police, bringing an end to that man's ability to hurt anybody else."

Bo nodded. Looking up from his perusal of the floor, he shot a grateful glance Bert's way. "Thank you Bert, you'll never know what this means to me."

"I'm just glad I can help Bo. You better get going so you can make the arrangements, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Thanks again Bert, I'll see ya tomorrow." Feeling lighter than he had since that first night in the jail, Bo hurried from the sawmill and headed off to find Rosco.

Bert stood in the doorway, watching the orange car disappearing in a cloud of dust. "Just a few days Coltrane," he mumbled. He didn't fool himself, though Bo honestly wanted to stop the sheriff, it would likely take him a couple of days to work up his nerve to carry out their plan in full. Grinning gleefully, he laughed as he pictured the look on Coltrane and Hogg's faces when the State police arrived to arrest the sheriff for rape, extortion and abuse of power.

TBC

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