Retribution

"Excuse me?"

"You're looking at this," Paul said, lifting the leather strap. "Do you know what this is for?"

"Yes," Jan answered. "It's a plow belt."

"Has it been used with you before?"

"Yes."

"Did you enjoy it? Would you enjoy it with me for, say, two hundred dollars? I've been bored tonight, and it's Christmas. It may be a while before Toby or Hardesty are available. There should be some pleasurable and profitable way we could use the time." He took a small wad of bills out of the pocket of his robe and laid it down on the seat of the sofa next to where the plow belt had been.

* * * *

Malcolm was sprawled out on his back on the ottoman in Toby and Hardesty's apartment. From Hardesty's vantage point, he looked like a spider who had been turned over on its back. His gangling legs and arms were draped off the sides of the ottoman. His knuckles were scraping on the white carpet. His feet were on the floor, and he was using them for leverage to fuck up into Toby's passage rapidly and with much force. Toby was saddled on the basketball player's pelvis, riding his cock cowboy style, facing him, riding him like he was a bucking bull, which in all functional purposes he was. DeAndre approached from behind, encircled Toby's waist with one arm and pressed the center of the smaller man's back, lowering Toby's chest onto Malcolm's. Malcolm and Toby both settled down. He took his arm from around Toby's waist and guided the bulb of his cock to Toby's hole, above the root of Malcolm's buried cock and started working his shaft inside Toby above Malcolm's cock.

Toby cried out and flopped around a bit while DeAndre was skewering him. Hardesty took his breath in, but he knew Toby wasn't really in distress—that he could take both cocks. He was mostly doing what would be expected when someone was being double penetrated. The cocks were fat and long, though, so it wasn't a cake walk.

DeAndre began to pump and, with a whimper, deep moaning, and heavy panting, Toby settled down to docilely letting the black bulls have their way with him.

In high heat himself from watching the performance, Hardesty stripped, went over to the nightstand to retrieve a Fleshlight, and returned to the peephole, working his cock with the Fleshlight as he watched the two black professional basketball players working Toby. He discerned when they were both shooting off, pulled the Fleshlight off his cock and shot his load against the bedroom door.

* * * *

He was getting in deep. He was good, very good. He wore being over fifty well. And he was strong, hard bodied. Jan was draped over the plow belt sling on his belly, his arms and legs hanging down. Paul was standing behind him, gripping the handles of the plow belt. He was holding Jan off the floor. His cock was buried deep inside Jan's ass, and he was using the strength of his sinewy legs to support the young man's weight and the strength of his arm muscles to raise and lower the plow belt, causing his cock to dig and release, dig and release, inside Jan's passage.

"Shit. Fuck. Plow me!" Jan cried out.

Paul continued doing so.

* * * *

Hardesty answered the apartment door after looking through the peephole and ascertaining who it was.

"Jan," he said, after opening the door to him. "What are you doing here? Have you come to see Toby? He's taking a shower."

"I think it's actually you I've come to see," Jan said, giving him a sheepish look. "I'm sorry how late it is, but—"

"No, no. Come on in. You say you think it's me you've come to see? You don't know whether it is or isn't?"

"I don't know if it's anything to worry about," Jan said.

"Have a seat. We have some wine open. I'll pour us a glass. What are you worried about?"

"It's Leslie. I know he's dead. Justine told me. And Victor too. I never liked him—Victor that is."

"Yes, I'm afraid it's true about both of them. But—"

"Justine told me you were asking about Mr. T. Leslie went with him. But I have too—a couple of times. Justine thought maybe Leslie servicing him might have been what got Leslie killed. Mr. T is always so secretive and there is something about him that makes me think of danger and evil. I'm afraid . . . I'm wondering . . ."

"If you are in danger too?" Hardesty walked over and handed him the glass of wine, but Jan put it down on the coffee table in front of him immediately, as he was shaking too much to hold it. Hardesty was standing close to him, exuding the scent of musk. He was in a silk robe, just as Paul had been just now. Jan imagined Hardesty was wearing nothing under it, and then didn't imagine any more as the robe fell open a bit and Jan could see that Hardesty was naked under the robe and half hard.

As always, Jan wanted this sexy man. But he had several opportunities to be with him. Being taken with the plow belt by Paul had been fully satisfying. That had been something different and yet so normal—just a long, attentive screwing by a cock that could reach up into his gut and make caressing love to every inch of his channel on its journey up to the quick of him, while he was secured in place by and fully captive to the man's powerful control. Paul had told him that he'd been a male model, but he'd also obviously done a lot of strength training. He made a straightforward fuck something special. Could Jan just come back at any time and let Paul plow him?

"Yes. I probably shouldn't feel like I'm in danger, but—" he started to say.

"Until we figure out what's going on—and I'm working on it—you probably are right to worry about it. If this Mr. T is fucking you regularly I assume you could pick him out of a lineup."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Where are you taken to be with this Mr. T? Can you remember? A hotel room? Someplace different each time."

"Mostly one place. He sometimes has Victor bring me to a park and he does me in the backseat of his car. But usually it's a small townhouse in Georgetown. On P Street. Very expensive furnishings; lots of books on shelves. I don't know the address, but it's painted sort of a dark yellow. The only one around that is. Victor always parks in back and hustles me through a garage and up to Mr. T's bedroom on the third floor. I only know what the townhouse looks like on the front because I was walking down there one day and picked the house out. The man's got money to be living in a place like that."

"Is there anyone else there when you are with him—other than Leslie or Victor?"

"There is someone named Kim who I think lives there. Leslie and I are not there at the same time. Leslie and I have just talked about being fucked the same way there. Mr. T's bed's got all the trimmings. He likes spread-eagle restraining, and he's got as many toys as you do."

"Anyone else from Justine's other than you or Leslie taken to Mr. T?"

"No, I don't think so. Just Leslie and me. Justine knows about it. It's all arranged with Justine."

"This Kim is there, when you were having sex with Mr. T?"

"Yes. Mr. T likes threesomes—and more. Kim is included, and Victor too. Mr. T likes to watch Victor fuck me or Kim."

"And this Mr. T wants demanding sex? himself."

"Yes. He has these metal rods. He ties me up so that I can't move and he takes these rods, one bigger than the next, and he pushes them down into my cock head and spins them. He does this until I come and then he fucks me. And then he watches Victor fuck me too."

"Does Victor use the metal rods?"

"No, Victor is very basic and rough. He likes—he liked—to fuck me on all fours on the floor, like a dog. And Victor is—was—a choker."

"Mr. T screws your dick with something like these?" Hardesty asked, taking a wooden box from the bottom shelf of a side table and opening it to display a set of graduated sounding rods.

"Yes, like those," Jan answered in a hushed tone. "You have them too."

"Yes, I have them too, Jan. I use them too." He didn't complete that thought, but went on with his questioning of Jan. This was dovetailing into his investigation of Leslie's death. "Sounding rods. That's what they're called, Jan. This Mr. T likes to sound you? And do you like it, Jan?"

"It's different," Jan said, turning his head away, not looking directly into Hardesty's face. "It's not as demanding as what some other men do to me, including you. You know what services Justine's provides. Mr. T isn't as demanding with fetishes as some of the men he makes me service are."

"He shares you with other men?"

"Yes, Victor, and there's a Russian he meets with. The Russian brings bodyguards with him, and Mr. T lets them fuck me while he's meeting with their boss. They sit and watch from across the room while they're talking in low voices to each other. And there are a few other men, secretive, catlike and cruel. One of those, a guy from where Mr. T used to work, he said, uses the sounding rods and is impatient and hurts me with them—and laughs." He turned his head back and gave Hardesty an eyelash fluttery look—to make clear that he didn't mind what Hardesty did with him, though.

"Does it make you come? Having the sounding wands used on you?" Hardesty asked, ignoring the come-hither look. "You said it does. Do you come more than once while Mr. T is doing this to you?"

"Yes," Jan answered in a low voice. "I come more than once. Mr. T comes too. He likes it. He's old and sometimes has trouble going hard. But this makes him go hard every time. The other, more cruel man, is younger and in a lot better shape. He has no trouble going hard—or coming more than once or making me come more than once."

"If you come more than once, then you enjoy it. Would you like me to use the sounding rods on you?"

"If you wish," Jan said, looking away again. But Hardesty could see that the young man was trembling. He suspected Jan very much would like him to use the sounding rods on him. and maybe . . . when this was all cleared up and Jan could return to Justine's . . . just maybe . . .

"Now? Would you like me to use the sounding rods with you now? Here? Me sitting on the ottoman over there, you sitting on my cock, and me holding you close and spinning sounding rods down into your dick?"

Jan looked up and into Hardesty's eyes with defiance. "Yes, I want you to use them with me now," he said. "If that's what you want," he added. "You know you can have anything you want from me."

"Well, we'll have to wait on that, I think" Hardesty said, snapping the box shut and sliding it back onto the bottom shelf of the side table. "It's nice to know we have something new to look forward to, though. We need to concentrate on finding this Mr. T now. We'll have to see if we can find that house, and Mr. T, and Kim. Maybe we should stash you someplace safe until we figure out what's going on. I can handle it with Justine. And I have a few places I could—"

"Paul, from across the hall, has said I could stay with him."

Hardesty laughed. Paul certainly was a fast worker. "Stay with him and sleep with him? You've met Paul?"

"Yes."

"He's fucked you already, has he? Probably with that plow belt of his?"

"Yes."

"And you enjoyed it? You don't have to answer that."

"Yes, I enjoyed it."

"Well, OK, Paul it is for the time being, if he's willing to put you up. I strongly suspect he'll be happy to."

He went to the kitchen bar and rang Paul. Paul, in his silk robe and nothing else, was standing at his door, smiling as Jan left the apartment and moved toward him. Hardesty was smiling when he closed the door. Toby was coming out of the show bedroom, wearing a robe similar to the one that Paul was wearing in the hall but no doubt no longer was wearing, and toweling off his hair.

"Who was that?"

"Jan. He's going to be spending some time with Paul."

"Lucky Jan," Toby said. "I wouldn't mind going a round with Paul."

"Yes, lucky Jan—and I realize you've been antsy about what Paul might do with you. And lucky me. I watched your performance with the basketball black bulls tonight. Impressive."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"It put me in heat. I want to fuck you too." He dug into both of his robe pockets, coming with a set of wrist restraints from one side and a nasty looking dildo from the other.

Toby looked at him and laughed. "Of course you do."

"On the ottoman, like they did."

"Of course. Afterward there's something else I'd like for tonight."

Toby was only panting heavily as he was belly down on the ottoman, wrists tied over his head and dragging on the floor on one side and legs bent and draped over two of the other sides, his eyes glued to the lights of the Christmas tree, while Hardesty rode his ass. He didn't start crying out in passion until Hardesty started driving the dildo inside his channel underneath his already buried cock. Neither of them was worrying if Toby could take it; he'd been opened up wide by the two black bulls. He often was horny as hell still after a session like he'd had with the basketball players.

* * * *

"You're trembling," Paul leaned over and whispered in Jan's ear. They were stretched out on Paul's bed, Jan on his belly and Paul's body running alongside him, on his side, propped up on his elbow. He was running the fingers of his free hand over Jan's back, buttocks, and thighs, running circles around the curve of the young man's butt cheeks, letting his fingers trail down through the crack between the cheeks and on down the perineum and along the line of the young man's cock. He had run it along this line again and again. Jan, hard and throbbing, had opened the stance of his thighs and was sighing with contentment.

Paul paused his fingers at Jan's rim and pressed in, ready to start. But the young man jerked and tensed up. Jan was a rent-boy. Paul could take him now and Jan would manage him. But Paul wanted this to be special for Jan—and thus for he himself as well. When it came to entering him, he wanted Jan to be begging for it and for him to slide in up to the hilt with no resistance whatsoever. Paul left off fingering the hole to massage and caress Jan's muscles, but he returned to it, pressing a finger into Jan's channel again, testing again if Jan was open to receive him. He didn't want to force it. He wanted the young man to want the cock. Jan jerked and tensed up again.

"What is it, Jan? Did I hurt you with the plow belt? Was it too much? I know I have length and like to put all in."

Jan gave a dry little laugh. "Where I work, we don't think about what is too much. You can put it in anytime you want. I'll take it."

"I don't want you just to take it. I want you to feel it—to go with me in the ride."

"Yes, you're longer than most," Jan whispered, "but I like what you do with it while you're digging it in. Most men don't give me that attention."

"Does Hardesty give you that attention?"

"Everything Hardesty does commands attention."

"So you didn't enjoy the plow belt. As far as I know, Hardesty doesn't use a plow belt."

"Yes, I enjoyed it. It was fine. But . . ."

"But what, Jan? I know you're worried about something you are working with Hardesty on, but there's something else. You don't want me to fuck you again? You just want to sleep now?"

"No, it's not that. What you're doing now . . . this is nice."

"But what?"

"I'm afraid of what this is leading to. Men are cruel to me. You are unusually long and you are surprisingly vigorous. I didn't think you'd ever be finished with the plow belt. I finished a long time before you did. Men are always cruel to me. I don't know what you want tonight."

"You want me to make love to you? Without penetration?"

"No, I want to take it all, but, yes, it would be nice if you could make love to me—not just conquer me."

"Oh, Jan," Paul murmured. He leaned over and kissed Jan on the back of his neck and then between his shoulder blades, then the small of his back. Paul repositioned his body and kissed along the curves of the buttocks. With a sigh, Jan was spreading his thighs more and going up slightly on his knees. He moaned as Paul's tongue ran down his crack and then again and yet again, stopping at Jan's hole. Paul was holding Jan's cock and gently stroking it. This time when Paul's fingers went into Jan's hole, alternating with attention by his tongue, Jan was sighing and moaning, not jerking. And he was relaxed. The muscles of his entrance pulled Paul's finger inside and clutched it.

He was ready. "Fuck me, daddy. Be good to me," he murmured. Jan was begging for it. He wasn't just a rent-boy now; he was a young man begging for what Paul could give him. Paul moved his leg over Jan's thighs, saddled himself over Jan's pelvis and slowly, ever so slowly started the long journey of his cock up the young man's channel. With deep moans, Jan opened his channel to the cock as it slid up inside him.

"Oh, god, you're deep," Jan murmured. He let out a long moan as Paul slowly started to move inside him in long strokes. "Yes, yes. There, like that. Yesss!"

"Yes, you're taking it deep. Take it. Can you take deeper? Yes," Paul whispered. "You're so beautiful. You're so sweet."

"And you're hitting all the spots. Every place most other men pay no attention to. Only Hardesty can fuck me rough and still give attention to all the places."

"I feel you caressing me and rippling over me," Paul whispered in response. "You're so good."

Twenty minutes later, Paul was still riding him in slow, languid, deep strokes. He slowly rolled over to his side, taking Jan with him. He stayed deeply sheathed, though, thanks to his length, and continued the slow, long stroking.

"You can do this forever."

"Yes, that's my talent. I can bring us together too." And then he did. They were in a close embrace, kissing, so deep in the kissing that there was nothing to be heard but the moans in harmony and the slow slapping of groin on butt cheeks when the telephone rang.

After ringing off, Paul went to the door into his apartment to make sure it was triple locked and then, before coming back into the bed and holding Jan close, checked his nightstand shelf to make sure his revolver was still there—and loaded.

The telephone rang again. Paul answered it, listened, and then turned over and shook a nearly asleep Jan. "He's changed his mind. We need to go," Paul said.

Chapter Four: Up the River without a Paddle

Somewhere Hardesty was hearing buzzing. It increased in intensity and insistence. He forced his eyes open. They were focusing on the nightstand in the show bedroom, where a cell phone was vibrating and complaining. It wasn't just that there was buzzing. It felt like he was on a rocking boat. He reached his hand across Jan, who was spooned into his body, sheathing his cock, and made a grab for the cell phone. He missed as Jan, awake, turned his face to him and took his mouth in a kiss. Jan's hand grabbed the one Hardesty was reaching out toward the phone and pulled it down to his crotch, encouraging the detective to latch on to his cock, which Hardesty did. He was hard inside Jan and, when the phone stopped ringing, he gave in to his needs and started deep pumping the rent-boy. He grabbed Jan's hips and forced him back hard into his crotch as he thrust forward. Jan was jerking and giving a little cry of "Yes, shit yes" each time Hardesty slammed him hard with the thick, long cock.

The bed was still rocking gently in a counter move to Hardesty's bed shaking. It was moving horizontally and vertically at the same time. Hardesty didn't think it was all in what he was doing with his yelp-inducing thrusts up inside Jan. He turned his head enough to see that Paul was beside him, crouched over Toby's prone body, Toby on his belly, his tail raised, and his wrists tied off at the headboard over his head. Paul was the one rocking the bed in counter movement as, in a straight-bodied pushup stance, he rose and fell on Toby's body in long, languid strokes, fucking him vigorously in the ass. How long had the man been at it? How long could the old man go? From the glazed look in the eyes of Toby, a professional bottom, it had been for some time and it had been very, very good.