Novelette of Gay Male BDSM. Chad loves Robert, but then Chad is kidnapped, chained, bound and dominated by another man. At first, Chad resists, dreaming only of Robert. But soon he finds himself responding to his kindapper, and feeling he has betrayed Robert. Then in a dazzling twist only Heather McVey could have written, Chad learns his kidnapper's identity! A Hot-Flashes Novelette.
EXTRACT
May, 2007
San Francisco,
I do love Robert, my long-term boyfriend. I want to make that crystal
clear from the very start, because I feel that I have to. Because, I
suppose that deep down I know that it may not sound like it at times
in this naughty fantasy of mine. If the truth be known, I don't know
how much off this stuff I could do in real life, even if I were to get
the opportunity, but fantasizing about it makes me more excited than
anything I've ever known. And well, it just gets me so friggen hot.
He's honestly a good man, my thirty-eight year old boyfriend. That's
the only way you can really describe him: good. He's considerate,
honest and careful too. When he's not working, he runs after me in the
house, doing all the washing-up, sharing the laundry and even the
ironing. He always asks before we make love if he can. He never just
takes me, and if I agree his big brown, Spaniel eyes twinkling with
gratitude really, really make me want to puke.
Hell, and that's the trouble. He's just too nice. It's boring. I'm a
twenty-one year old, blonde, blue eyed male in my sexual prime. I'm
too friggen young to be bored, I learned that the hard way a little
over six months ago when I became an unwilling victim in a perverts
basement.
Since then, I have lots of fantasies which I run through when Robert
is away at work, most of which resolve around being dirty and not
being nice. Most of what resolve around me being a prisoner, at
another man's mercy, another man's sex toy just like back then. Back
then, when I was hornier and harder than I'd ever been before in my
young life. Back then, when I was fearing for my life, unsure if I'd
be dead before the sun showed its pretty golden face above San
Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge, but sure of one thing, one important
thing, and that was that I was about to get the best fuck of my life.
Sometimes in these fantasies which have grown inside me like a cancer
consuming my every waking hour since then, since that fated day, it's
Robert who loses his temper and finally lashes out. He slaps me
around, rips off my clothes and throws himself upon me, spearing his
fat cock inside my dry ass before I can protest and fucking me hard.
But mostly those fantasies never work: you see, I just can't imagine
Robert ever really having the nerve to do that, and I always end up
dissolving into a fit of hysterical giggles. And so in my fantasies my
abuser always becomes someone different and my reliable, but tedious
boyfriend takes the passive role of observer to my ultimate
degradation.
The turning point in my life which led to my lusty fantasies actually
happened like this. Hours after I'd set out for home from my
neighbourhood sauna after one last drink with some male friends around
my own age, unable to remember just how I had gotten there, aware only
that my head was aching. I found myself lying on an old, musty
mattress in the centre of a densely shadowed room. Close your eyes and
imagine it please, if you can. I'm tied up. My movements are
restricted by the baling iron chains tied roughly around my wrists and
ankles and secured to some kind of make-shift hooks protruding from
the four, stone walls. I am completely naked apart from my expensive
and incredibly tight, white, silky boxer shorts, my twenty-first
birthday gift only that morning from Robert. Will Robert be wondering
why I haven't made it home after my dip in our well-known notoriously
gay sauna for my birthday party? Or was he too busy decorating my
birthday cake in his comfortable kitchen to realize the late evening
shadows, which were no doubt slowly creeping along our sidewalk?
I frantically twist my head, but it's just no good. I can't see
anything through the torn piece of rag smelling of diesel that has
been used as a make-shift blindfold. Testing the bonds which hold me,
only to find them secure, I wonder how long I've been here in this
dank, dark room and if I'm ever going to get out. How could anybody
ever hope to find me here? Still, in spite of my anxiety, I found
myself getting excited and yes although I'm embarrassed to admit it
hard with the sheer thrilling anticipation of just what could happen
next.
Suddenly, the slow but purposeful `tip tap` of heavy footsteps
approaching where I lay drowned out the drone of even my thumping
heart. The whole time, I'd been lying there flexing and grunting
against my captive bonds, someone had been standing quietly in the
shadowy corner watching my pathetic struggles. And although I was
petrified by just who and what that nameless someone was capable of
doing to me, I couldn't help but be turned-on at the very notion.
That was when it hit me that I liked being watched. I liked it a
lot.
The confident footsteps approached the left side of the foul mattress
and I strained my neck to hear more.
`My you're a bad, bad little boy aren't you?` A deep male voice which
was somehow familiar hissed in my face startling me. `Look at you. I
haven't even stroked you and your dick is all hard and standing to
attention begging for my touch. It sickens me that you want me so
much.` He reached out and grabbed a handful of my abundant pale curls.
`You have no idea how much it sickens me, Golden Boy.`
`I'm sorry,` I gushed and recoiled.
`Huh!` He snapped back. `I don't believe that you are sorry enough,
boy.`
`I am, honestly, I am.` I whined not quite sure exactly what I should
be sorry for. My cock which moments ago had been engorged somewhat
with expectancy had never been smaller. Beneath the gauzy shimmer of
my white boxer shorts, my manhood continued to shrink pitifully to its
adolescent size. I really feared that I was about to piss in my
pants.
I heard a mocking laugh, and then there was the distinctive sound of
a key being placed in a lock, and I heard the sharp whish of a well
oiled door opening. In the next second, I felt a welcome rush of
fresh, cold air from the rooms outside the confines of my dark prison
mingling with the stifling air inside and hundreds of minute
goose-pimples in response broke out all over my arms and naked
thighs.
My balls throbbed, and I fought down another hard-on. I was at
another man's mercy. A man who was no doubt some psychotic manic, the
whole situation shouldn't be turning me on. Damn it, I thought gashing
my teeth together until my jaw actually ached. The situation wasn't
turning me on, it wasn't.
Yeah right, my inner voice such a smartarse, but usually right on
screamed, and I'm you're fucking Fairy Godmother, Chad.
`Oh, please, I insist don't get up.` the deep masculine voice spoke
almost friendly as I pushed myself up onto my elbows.
`Let me go.` I begged over the tinkling of the chains, hating myself
for it, yet unable to do anything else. `Please, just let me go.`
`No,` my captive barked. `You're not going anywhere, Golden Boy that
is not until I've finished with you. That is not until I've had my fun
with that tight, little ass of yours.`
`But...` I protested, wanting, no needing suddenly to reason with the
maniac who despite the fact that I couldn't see him gave off the
impression that he was larger than life.
`Buts, I will hear no buts. Do you understand?` he hissed, and just
as before, petrified like a little frightened mouse, I recoiled.
`Good boy, you're learning.` the voice said approvingly. `Still, I
think you've got the look about you of one who might try to escape at
the first opportunity. I'd better make sure that you stay nice and
quiet. After all we don't want any uninvited guests bursting in and
ruining our little private party, now do we?`
Swallowing over the dry lump in my throat, I choked. `That's right, w
... we don't want that.`
