Set the Night on Fire
Shannon West and Remy
Devereaux
Set the Night on Fire
Copyright © 2013 by Shannon West,
Remy Devereaux
Published by Dark Hollows Press
Cover Art by Michelle Williams
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Set the Night on Fire
Copyright © 2013 Shannon West, Remy
Devereaux
E-book ISBN: 978-1-940756-9-7
Original E-book Publication: February
2013 as Sins of the Father
Second E-book Publication: November
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Chapter One
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After looking through the disturbing
articles one more time, trying to pretend I
didn’t linger way too long over the picture
of Blake Lewis, I picked up the phone. It
wasn’t the article that surprised me so
much, though it was shocking enough. It
was the picture that accompanied it that
had my palms sweating and my heart
racing—the picture of a man who had to
be Blake Lewis, still as damned beautiful
as ever. Still as fucked up as ever too,
probably. I had an old score to settle with
Blake Lewis, one that had feelings of
anger bubbling up inside me like vitriol.
Gripping the picture so hard my knuckles
went white, the paper crumpled under my
hands.
The articles had been forwarded to me by
an old fraternity brother, Chad Bentley.
Chad and I had gone to school together at
UT in Knoxville. Our fraternity was a
national gay fraternity called Delta
Lambda Phi, and Chad had been among
the students who started the fraternity on
campus. Since graduation ten years ago, I
heard that Chad had been active in Queer
Action, a quasi-militant group that loved
to “out” politicians and other public
figures, and did a lot of important work
against the hate groups that still seemed to
spring up everywhere, but especially in
the Bible Belt south.
Queer Action had pretty much died out by
2005, and since then, I had lost touch with
Chad as I built my own career. Traveling
all over the United States, and lucky
enough to be able to work for magazines
like Newsweek and Time, I’d gradually
built
a
successful
career
in
photojournalism. A few years before, I’d
decided to go freelance, and had been
traveling the world ever since. About a
week before, I had finished a grueling
assignment in Pakistan, and decided to
take a little time for myself to relax and
regroup. It was about this time that Chad
tracked me down and forwarded the
articles on the Escape group, hoping to
attract me to take an interest in exposing
the group to national and international
attention.
Chad had just formed a new group he was
calling FAB or Fags Against Bigots. The
group was a pretty militant group who
actually targeted these illegal religious
camps and had been known to even raid a
few of the camps and “rescue” the young
boys inside, moves that were undoubtedly
also outside the law, or at least definitely
on the fringe of it, and made me nervous to
be involved. He’d been trying to convince
me for the past few days, and these
articles I received this morning were the
latest attempt.
“Chad Bentley here,” Chad said, as he
answered the phone halfway around the
world from me.
“Well, Michael Lance here—how you
doing, buddy?”
“Michael, I can’t believe you called me. I
was hoping I could get you fired up
enough like back in the old days, but I
wasn’t sure. You’re quite the big deal
now, I hear.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, man.
Yeah, I must admit I was pretty pissed off
when I read those articles. How can this
kind of shit still be going on?”
“I don’t know, but it is. A poor kid in
Atlanta…he was only eighteen years old,
Michael, and a freshman in college. Hung
himself in his dorm room the day after he
got back home from one of Escape’s
fucking camps, just last week.”
“What can I do, Chad? I think I’m finally
willing to help you out.”
“Man, I was so hoping you’d say that.
Hell, yes, I’d love that. But hear me out
first. You may not want to get involved
when you know what I have planned.”
“Like what?”
“Well, the raids we’ve been doing don’t
go far enough. I want to set up my own
“camp” to help these young men out. I
want to re-educate them too, only with
love and acceptance, not hate and bigotry.
They need to know that there’s so much
life out there beyond their parents’ narrow
little world, and like the ads say, it does
get so much better.”
“Sounds good, but how are you going to
get them to come? I don’t see their parents
exactly lining up to send them.”
“No, but these guys won’t be young kids.
Some of the more radical parents are
taking their sons right out of college
dorms, like the kid in Atlanta, with help
from Escape. They say they’re saving their
souls. No, the ones I’ve targeted are over
eighteen and already at a camp, the
Escape camps. I just have to get them out
of there and take them to my facility. My
plan is to bust in and raid the place, round
up the young men and offer them a choice.
They can be taken to a safe location at a
hotel or a friend’s house or even back
home if they want to, though home is
where they’ve just been taken from and
might not be safe. Or if they choose to,
they can stay with Escape, or go with us
and get counseling and even financial
support, if they need it, to help them
become self-sufficient so they don’t have
to rely on their parents. The parents who
have turned their backs on them because
they’re gay.”
“Whoa, wait a minute, Chad. You’re
talking about kidnapping them away from
an Escape camp?”
“I’d be kidnapping them from their
kidnappers, Michael. These men are not
there of their own free will. They’ve
either been taken by force or sold a bill of
goods by their families—coerced into it,
really, by threats and lies. What the
parents and Escape did is just as illegal. I
doubt any of them would press charges,
especially the ones who helped drag their
kids kicking and screaming. They’d hate
that kind of exposure, and Escape
promises them complete anonymity.”
I hesitated, thinking about it. It still
sounded pretty iffy to me.
“Look, Michael, the young men of legal
age who want to leave will be released
immediately, or they can choose to come
with us. We’re not forcing anybody. By
the time Escape figures out what’s
happening and what to do about it, me and
my camp will be long gone. This is just a
one-time thing, to embarrass and humiliate
the Escape folks.”
Embarrassment and humiliation sounded
like just what I had in mind for Blake
Lewis, but I had to control my emotions.
“Sounds very risky, Chad. Not to mention
shady. You say no kidnapping, but what
about the leaders? Won’t you be taking
them against their will?”
“Escape is kidnapping first—also highly
illegal. What are they going to say?”
When I still hesitated, he continued.
“Michael, if you’ll join us, we’ll leave the
leaders alone. We may have to lock them
in a storage room or something, until we
can get away, but we’ll call in an
anonymous tip to their home base. They
might have to spend a couple of
uncomfortable hours, but it’s no more than
they deserve. What do you say?”
My pulse was racing again at the idea of
seeing Blake again. “Chad, it’s twisted
enough that I like the concept, but I don’t
know…”
“C’mon,
we’ll
take
precautions.
Remember, we’d be rescuing a lot of
these young men, whose parents coerced,
lured or outright forced them to be there.
Neither those parents nor Escape want
anything to do with the police. I have the
site all picked out. It’s in a very remote
forest in North Carolina in the mountains.
No way will anyone locate us. We will
never identify ourselves. We’re not going
to hurt anybody. C’mon, can I count you
in? We can bust this operation wide
open.”
I
looked
down
at
the
picture
accompanying the news story again. It
showed Blake holding a sign that said
God Hates Fags.
“I’ll probably regret saying this,” I said,
“but count me in.” At the sound of glee on
the other end of the line, I spoke up again.
“Nobody gets hurt, though, Chad, and I
insist on that, either physically or
mentally. If the leaders resist, we won’t
use any force on them, or use weapons. I
won’t be a party to that.”
“Oh hell, absolutely not, man. I have no
desire to hurt anybody. The two leaders of
the camp don’t seem like the violent type.
One of the guys is the son of the leader,
Tom Lewis. Lewis preached a sermon
about how he turned his boy straight, and
you know that’s got to be bullshit. He’s
brainwashed him, more likely. Now get on
down here and I’ll show you all the
plans.”
After a few more minutes, I hung up,
wondering what in the world I might have
just gotten myself into. I think I would
have let my cold feet dissuade me then and
there if it hadn’t been for the picture of
B l a ke . Brainwashed, Chad had said.
Could that be true? Blake was gay, all
right. Of that, I had no doubt. But was he
so indoctrinated that there was no hope of
bringing him back? Would he—could he
—ever admit who he really was?
I read the article for the second time, still
not believing what I was seeing. The
report detailed the activities of the
religious group Blake belonged to. The
group, who called themselves Escape,
claimed they could take young gay men to
a special “camp” they were calling Camp
Salvation where they would work with
them on following what they said was
“God’s plan.” Touting their combination
of counseling, love, and religious re-
education to “cure” these young boys from
living a sinful life as a homosexual, they
claimed to be able to turn these young men
straight.
The only problem was their techniques
had been almost universally condemned as
harmful and, in Escape’s case, at least,
downright illegal. Not to mention stupid.
Some of the boys were still under eighteen
and therefore under parental control, but
Escape, with the full support of the
parents of the men, had been known to
literally kidnap some of them from their
apartments or college dorms. Their
parents either supplied willing aid or, in
some cases, actual participation in the
kidnappings. The men were held at these
camps for days, even, in a few extreme
cases, weeks. So far Escape had been
lucky to escape prosecution, often because
the young men involved didn’t want to
press charges against their own parents, or
they were just too embarrassed to come
forward. Twice, Escape managed to settle
things out of court, by paying the men off.
The
religious
organization
used
crackbrained
methods
including
discredited notions of anything other than
heterosexual is “unhealthy” and “harmful.”
Their extreme social ideas had caused
suicide and lasting psychological damage
to the young men involved. Furthermore, I
knew their use of reparative therapy to
change the sexual orientation of their
clients had been rejected by every major
professional
medical
organization
including the American Psychological
Association,
the American
Medical
Association, and the American Counseling
Association. Still, this so-called therapy
was actually being practiced and more
and more young men were falling victim
to it every day by organizations all over
the country.
As a successful free-lance journalist and
an out and proud gay man, I was outraged
and incensed by what I read. Some of the
subjects had gone along willingly, it was
true, seduced and coerced by peer and
family pressure, but the idea of a group
actually kidnapping other, more unwilling
young gay men and forcing them to take
part in this “re-education” sounded
downright medieval. One unnamed source
said that these groups used brainwashing
and torture techniques to “convince” their
subjects. The more I read, the more
furious I became.
Tragically, many of the boys who were
released from the group were still
traumatized after they came home, and the
week before one of the young men had
committed suicide after he returned,
leaving a note saying he could no longer
live with the shame of being gay.
It was widely speculated that many of the
so-called anti-gay preachers actually were
closet gays themselves, so full of self-
loathing they projected it outward to these
young victims of their bigotry. This
unproven theory might answer a lot of
questions about Blake Lewis.
After reading the articles and especially
after looking at the pictures of the hateful
signs carried by Escape followers,
including Blake, I was finally ready to
join Chad in his plans. The whole idea of
Escape was offensive, but for me and
Blake Lewis, it was also personal—very
personal, and I wouldn’t mind a little
payback of my own.
For the past few years I had been telling
myself I was alone because I wanted to
be, and in truth it was difficult to keep a
boyfriend because of the travel I had to do
for my work. The even deeper truth was
that Blake Lewis was the only man I’d
ever really loved, and he had broken my
damned heart.
I remember I wasn’t able to take a full
breath for the longest time after Blake left
me. I felt like someone had reached into
my chest and ripped out my heart, but still
I was somehow walking around, or like a
skydiver whose parachute wouldn’t open
and the ground was coming up to meet
him. And the only good thing was knowing
that no one would ever break my heart like
that again because I wouldn’t allow it.
My work was my life, and I hadn’t met a
man since Blake who had really interested
me. Since my most recent boyfriend, a
man I had dated for a year and a half, I had
a number of casual encounters. Quite a
considerable number. I was in serious
danger of becoming a slut, albeit a
damned fine one, if I did say so myself. I
did work pretty hard at it.
I looked again at the picture of the man I
knew was Blake holding the Escape sign.
The picture was grainy, but the young man
was young, with sandy brown hair. He
was very good looking, despite the haircut
and the nerdy clothes. Was it really
possible after all these years I was about
to be reunited with Blake? My Blake? If
so, I would have to be the one to handle
Blake at the camp. I would have to insist
on that.
“Blake baby,” I said, looking down at the
picture, “we just might get up close and
personal again real soon.”
Chapter 2
Blake Lewis stood in the shower, letting
the water run on him as hot as he could
stand it. It was four in the morning, and he
was
wide
awake
again
from
a
combination of nightmares. One recurring
nightmare was of dolls thrown into a huge
grave-like pit in the ground, their bodies
tangled together in a jumble of arms and
legs and heads. Then someone throwing
gasoline on them and striking a match. The
resulting conflagration seared its image
onto his brain like a brand and refused to
go away, no matter what he did to get
away from it.
Blake had been having that same dream
for as long as he could remember, but the
dream had never been as vivid as it had
been recently--so real, he often awoke
with the smell of smoke in his nostrils.
The one thing he couldn’t quite understand
was the recurring image of a doll who has
escaped the burning pit. This doll was
being buried, black dirt falling onto its
pretty, blank doll’s face. Just before the
last shovelful of dirt landed on it, the doll
blinked its eyes and looked up at him. He
screamed and begged the person wielding
the shovel to stop—the doll was alive!
But the dirt fell anyway, right into the
doll’s open eyes and mouth. He usually
woke himself up screaming at that point.
With the more recent dream joining the
old ones in his nightly repertoire, he’d
been able to get very little sleep in the
past few weeks. The new dream was of
that college boy who hung himself,
swinging from a rope, his blackened and
swollen tongue sticking out between his
blue lips, but who still managed to call
Blake’s name in a croaking whisper.
Lately Blake jerked awake from these
dreams in a cold sweat. Of course,
according to his father, the boy was
already on a path to hell because he was
an unrepentant homosexual, but taking his
own life ensured his direct descent to
those eternal fires.
Blake wondered, not for the first time, if it
was Escape’s fault the boy had taken his
life. Blake had taken dozens of showers
since the suicide of the boy after he’d left
the Escape camp, yet he still felt dirty and
disgusted with himself for his part in it.
The shame and hurt he felt wouldn’t wash
away. In the note the boy left, he said he
was tired of having lustful feelings about
men, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.
Blake wondered, not for the first time,
about his own lustful feelings about men—
and one man in particular--and if he had
repented or prayed enough to be forgiven.
He put that thought away from him
quickly. It was still too painful to even
think about, even after six long years.
Only twenty-four himself, Blake hadn’t
been that long out of college either. He
knew exactly how that boy must have felt,
because he’d been feeling the same way
most of his life. Blake was thankful he had
only acted one time on those feelings and
continued to pray every day for the taint of
that error to be removed from his soul. He
tried to convince himself that part of his
penance and his punishment was to
continue having those sinful thoughts about
men but to deny himself the pleasure of
acting on them.
Maybe he was having these thoughts to
better understand, and therefore be a
better help to these tortured boys who
came to Escape for reparative therapy.
Blake was loathe to think these thoughts
were in his head because he just might be
one of these homosexuals God so hates.
He’d been taught all his life by his fire
and brimstone preacher father that, “God
hates all fags, queers and lesbians. All
those men who lie with men and women
who lie with women are all the same.
Their souls stained by the abomination,
they are all going straight to hell unless
we can help them to see the light and show
them the evil of their ways.”
Blake could hear his father’s words in his
head as clear as if he was standing beside
him in the shower speaking. He had heard
them for as long as he could remember. It
was like his father, all the other preachers,
and even a few of his professors at his
college were on a personal mission to
wipe homosexuality off the face of the
earth. Or at least, if they couldn’t wipe it
out entirely, they were determined to see it
at least eradicated from their state.
This was one reason why he thought the
Escape group was so well funded and had
such far-reaching resources. Some state
legislators
were
rumored
to
be
clandestine members of his father’s group.
Quite a few of the boys sent here for re-
education, religious enlightenment, and
new direction were from affluent families
from all over the state and some even from
out of state. Blake wondered at the large
number of boys he had seen come through
the program since he began his work to
help get them on the correct path,
remembering a few who had exhibited an
unwillingness and a defiant attitude
toward the mere thought that they were
somehow broken and were here to be
fixed. These boys went on to the special
needs program which his father and
several of the older men headed up. Blake
wasn’t sure what methods they used, as
his father never discussed this part of
God’s work with him, but whatever they
were, God’s hand was obvious because
they all sure seemed to be cured when
they left and he never saw any of these
boys come back.
All of them, that is, except for this
eighteen year old kid from Atlanta. He
was one of those who went against his
will to the Escape special needs group for
intense
counseling
and
religious
education, all with the intent of showing
the boy the error of his ways and make
him see how much more appealing in
God’s eyes the acceptable heterosexual
life was. His parents had him brought in
by the group to show him if he just opened
himself to the Word, he could just as
easily choose to be straight, just as he had
chosen to be gay.
Blake honestly didn’t realize the boy was
so seriously haunted by evil that he would
do something like kill himself.
Blake knew he shouldn’t question God or
His plan. He had gotten his divinity
degree from one of the finest small private
Baptist Colleges in the country, Longley
College in Alabama. A religious group
funded and provided guidance for his
Alma Mater, and he was sure the
education at the hands of a school under
the guidance of such a godly group
couldn’t be wrong. Could it? He must
believe and have faith in these people
who were led by God to do His work and
must follow their direction. It was the
devil who whispered in his ear that it was
wrong to force these boys into the classes.
Blake knew all of this, but still the little
voice in the far reaches of his mind
occasionally spoke up and said “What if?”
What if they are wrong? What if these
feelings are not given by God to make me
stronger in rejecting them or make me
stronger in helping to change others from
gay to straight, but what if these feelings
are given to me by God because this is the
person God wants me to be? What if I
truly was born this way like the boy from
Atlanta kept yelling at them?
These feelings and thoughts usually came
late in the night when sleep eluded him
and restless thoughts were his only
companions.
After this most recent death, these thoughts
came unbidden, unwanted, during the
night, invading his sleep time, the time
Blake needed so desperately to get the
strength to keep going. This was the time
Blake lay in bed and remembered one
night seemingly a lifetime ago. He
remembered each sweet kiss, each tender
caress, each breathy whisper as he took
that beautiful hot, hard cock into his
mouth, and later as he rode it to his
explosive climax.
Blake let those memories of Michael run
freely through his mind as his hands ran
freely over his body. He let the filth of his
desire to touch Michael one more time
burn in him, like the hot water was
burning his skin. He wished the cleansing
water could wash the shame down the
drain as he stroked himself till he had
sweet release from the tension that had
been building in his balls.
Blake thought only masturbation and the
fear of God stood between him and his
exploring the road to hell with more men.
He had been sorely tempted several times
since, but it seemed that each time he was,
his father would sense this temptation and
step in like an avenging angel and remove
the temptation from Blake’s reach.
That’s what had happened with this
eighteen year old kid. He was gorgeous,
but mostly he reminded him of Michael.
He had the same devastating blue eyes and
beautiful lean, muscular body. Blake had
found himself just staring at him on
several occasions when the boys would
be out in the yard for exercise. Blake’s
father had seen him openly staring at the
boy, and the tongue lashing he received
was almost worse than the beatings he’d
gotten when he was younger.
He had to somehow purge Michael from
his mind. He couldn’t go on like this much
longer.
Chapter 3
Michael
By the time I got off the plane in Atlanta
and walked up the ramp into the terminal,
I could already feel the sweltering July
heat and humidity I remembered so well
hitting me in the face like a wet blanket. I
needed to take off these hot jeans and get
into some shorts as soon as possible, but
for now I settled for taking off my sports
coat and slinging it over my shoulder. I’d
grown up in nearby Douglas County, but
left home at eighteen to attend college at
UT and never really came back except for
visits to my family. This heat was
reminding me why.
Escape was based in Atlanta. Its founder
and leader, Rev. Tom Lewis, lived there
and had his church, God’s Pathway, in
Decatur, a suburb of Atlanta, though they
had offices all over the Bible Belt. Very
loosely Baptist based, the fundamentalist,
evangelical church had a reputation for
being pretty hard core homophobic. Lewis
was
known
for
preaching
ultra-
conservative, sermons and holding old
fashioned tent revivals all over the area.
He had several brands—booklets and
treatises he’d written about finding
salvation according to his beliefs, which
he would sell for a “modest” donation. He
also sold “blessings” intended to ratchet
up his bottom line and promising
financial, emotional and spiritual healing
for anyone who sent in the money. The
more money sent in, the greater the
blessings would be, of course. There were
DVD’s, and tapes, as well, all featuring
his sermons and messages. The Escape
camps also garnered quite a bit of
revenue.
As I drove out onto the interstate, heading
north, I popped in a cassette featuring one
of
Elder
Lewis’
sermons
on
homosexuality. I was only able to listen to
it for about fifteen minutes, before I had to
eject it. The poison the preacher spewed
was enough to make anyone sick. I
wondered, not for the first time, about the
efficacy of Chad’s plan. If someone grew
up in this atmosphere of hate, how
difficult would it be to convince them
otherwise?
I remembered the pictures I’d been seeing
of Blake. He, too, was a preacher in the
evangelical church now, no doubt as
twisted and messed up as his father. How
could he be any other way? He and the
other young preacher were the ones they
were going to see tonight. The other man’s
name was Jerry Todd, and it had long
been rumored among Atlanta’s gay
community that Todd visited gay porn
theaters in the area, along with some
BDSM clubs. Doing “research” no doubt.
Many gay anti-hate groups had theories
that
the
really
rabid
homophobic
preachers were closet homosexuals,
anyway, but I had little hope for Blake
Lewis. Blake had grown up with Elder
Lewis as a father. He must be totally
fucked up by now, and maybe even
asexual.
I sometimes felt almost sorry for Blake
and Jerry Todd. Their failure would no
doubt be dealt with harshly by their co-
called church. Then I remembered the
suicides that had resulted from some of the
Escape camps, not to mention the
disruption of the lives of the other victims,
and it hardened my resolve. I also
remembered every moment of what
happened between me and Blake and at
those time I wanted, no, needed to hurt
Blake as I’d been hurt myself. I wasn’t
proud of it, but I had to be honest enough
to admit it.
The current plan for me was to rent a car
at the terminal and then drive two hours to
just over the North Carolina border, to the
site of the re-education camp Chad was
setting up. There we could map out our
strategy while putting the finishing touches
on the camp. I only had a month to six
weeks that I was able to carve out
between assignments, so time was a huge
factor. It was the first week in July, and
Escape was planning its next camp to
begin on the fifteenth. That gave us almost
ten days to scope out a few meetings of
Escape and attend a couple of the revivals
Escape
held
pretty
much
weekly
somewhere in the area.
Chad had sent me the GPS coordinates for
the camp, so I found it easily enough,
though it was extremely remote and well
off the main roads. The entrance to the
camp was guarded by an iron gate. I
parked the car and got out to tap in the
code Chad had sent me. For a moment I
stood and stretched, looking around me.
The difference in the air up here was
amazing. With almost no humidity, it was
at least fifteen degrees cooler than down
the mountain. The shadows in the trees
looked cool and inviting, and I wondered,
not for the first time why I wasn’t off
somewhere enjoying my vacation instead
of getting involved in this shit that could
so easily blow up in our faces. I got back
in the car and drove through, watching the
gate swing closed behind me in my rear
view mirror.
The camp was another half mile down the
dirt road and consisted of three large log
buildings Chad had been able to rent for
the whole summer. A former boys summer
camp that had gone belly up about the
same time the economy did, it had a large
building that could serve as a dormitory,
along with two others that would make up
the
cafeteria
and
the
so-called
Administration
building,
where
the
offices, staff rooms, and classrooms
would be located.
The former camp was really beautiful,
cool and green, with a clear, mountain
lake for swimming and plenty of hiking
trails leading up into the mountains. I
parked outside the Admin building and
went in search of Chad, finding him inside
one of the classrooms.
After greeting each other, Chad gestured
to the room. “Well what do you think?”
For most of the young men, there would be
counseling and group therapy sessions, to
try to mitigate some of the damage done by
the group and the overzealous parents. We
would also offer movies and readings
with a more liberal point of view. There
would be no attempts at brainwashing, or
coercion, just a presentation of the
opposite viewpoint, so they might make a
more balanced decision. A psychologist
would also be on hand just to monitor
everything.
“Where do I stay?” I asked.
“Well, I was kind of hoping to get you to
be the primary counselor for one of the
dorms.”
I shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”
Chad looked me up and down. “It’s great
to see you again. Are you seeing anyone
now?”
I shook my head. “Will you stop? I thought
we settled all that years ago. We’re much
better friends than lovers, Chad. Always
were and always will be.”
Chad smiled and shrugged. “Can’t blame a
guy for trying, I guess.” He stood up and
clapped me on the back. “Come on and
I’ll show you to your room and you can
put away your things. We’re actually
about through here and ready to move on
this thing. I’ve got three different events
we can go to that Escape has scheduled
nearby. It’ll give us a chance to check
them out and maybe you can get a handle
on what makes Blake Lewis tick. He’ll be
actually preaching at one of the events.”
“Really? I’ll be interested to hear that. I
have a feeling he’s way too far gone for us
to impact in any significant way. With that
Lewis guy as a father, he’s bound to be
fucked up.”
“Well, there’s a tent revival over in
Greenville, South Carolina tomorrow
evening. That’s only about an hour’s drive
from here. What do you say we go? Give
you a chance to see both Blake and his
dad in person.”
“Sounds good.” I clapped him on the
shoulder. “Now why don’t you show me
where I bunk?”
The next night, Chad and I walked into the
revival tent in Greenville and looked
around. There were about sixty people
inside. The small stage at the front of the
tent was empty except for a few folding
chairs and a microphone. The air was
sweltering hot, even after the sun was
down. I was glad I’d worn shorts, but
soon realized I stuck out like a sore thumb,
amid the black polyester pants and short
sleeved shirts of the majority of men
present. I settled back in the folding chair,
using the program to fan myself.
Since I’d arrived only the morning before,
I was still tired and worn out. I’d actually
forgotten the toll the humidity and heat of
the south could take on you. I’d been
reading and studying Chad’s plans since
I’d arrived and everything was falling into
place. Escape was starting a new camp in
about a week. In fact, this revival was the
last one before it began, and Chad told me
Elder Lewis would be doing a hard sell
tonight as he tried to convince the last few
parents who might still be on the fence
about sending their sons to the camp. Chad
also told me Lewis’ son, Blake, would be
there, too, and I was more than interested
to get a glimpse of Blake in person again.
Two men stepped out onto the stage, and
the crowd began to settle in anticipation.
One was an older man, wearing the
uniform polyester pants and white shirt,
but with the addition of a too-short red tie
hanging around his neck. This had to be
Tom Lewis. He was around sixty-five or
so, Ichabod Crane-thin and gawky, but
with long, ropy muscles in his arms. His
hair was thinning, and he had a classic
comb-over. With a Bible clutched in his
right hand, he strode confidently to the
middle of the stage to adjust the
microphone.
Trailing him onto the stage was Blake.
Fuck, I’d actually forgotten how striking
he was in person, perhaps the best looking
man I had ever seen outside of Hollywood
movies. I had a sudden fleeting thought
that he had to take after his mother.
Looking vaguely like a very young Brad
Pitt, he had sandy-brown hair, eyes so
green I could see them flashing from
where I sat, and a toned, muscular body.
Not the kind you get from working out
with weights, but the kind you get from
doing hard work. I wondered what he did
to get those muscles—they certainly
weren’t from preaching at tent revivals.
About five-feet-ten inches tall, he, too,
was wearing cheap dark pants and a white
shirt and the same godawful tie his father
wore. He looked very solemn and almost
sad as he followed the older man on stage
and sat behind him in the folding chairs. I
wondered if he’d recognize me after all
these years if he spotted me in the
audience. It hadn’t been so long ago, only
six years. Blake had been eighteen when I
saw him last, so he must be twenty-four. A
lot of water had flowed under the bridge
between then and now.
Just then, he looked directly at me and
held my gaze for almost a full minute.
Something electric seemed to jump across
the stage from him and zap me right in the
balls, so that I felt my crotch becoming
uncomfortably tight. Damn, I could still
tear that ass up. If he recognized me, he
played it cool, not letting on for a minute,
but his gaze held mine and he widened his
eyes just slightly.
The older guy on stage began to speak,
and reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from
Blake and concentrated on just listening.
His voice was powerful and deep, like
you might imagine the voice of God would
sound, but God--at least the God I
envisioned--would never have spouted the
kind of hate that was pouring from this
man’s mouth. He started out by saying that
a man is gay because he needs to have
male contact due to earlier childhood
abuse.
“Now look at my son…Stand up, Blake,
and let the crowd look at you.” Blake
dutifully stood, looking down at his feet,
not meeting anyone’s gaze.
“This boy, to his everlasting shame, once
experimented with homosexual practices.
Now he has had positive male influences
his whole life, so he needed no male
substitutes. But homosexuals are sexual
addicts, with no impulse control. Why if
they can’t get another homosexual to be
with them, they would just as soon find an
animal. They’re depraved and pitiful
creatures. My son was led down this path
by such a filthy, unnatural man.
“These men are miserable creatures who
have great internal conflict because they
know deep down they are not living the
life God wants them to live. My son was
fortunate in that he had lived a godly life
before that black time, and he was able to
put Satan behind him. Now we have here
the testimony of a young man who went to
one of our camps. I want you to listen to
what he has to say.
“He opened the brochure he’d placed
inside the Bible and read from it. ‘I
accepted God into my life and realized I
could leave homosexuality. I learned
homosexuality was reversible. Through
faith in God and counseling and support,
over a four-year period, my homosexuality
is greatly subsided.’ Did you hear that
folks? Greatly subsided! Because it is a
choice these depraved young men are
making, and they are choosing to be apart
from God.”
At about that point, I stopped listening to
the utter crap Lewis was ranting about and
concentrated on Blake, who was looking
directly at me—or perhaps I should say
Satan, according to Lewis—again. He
was absolutely fucking beautiful, and
something definitely was alive in his eyes
as I looked at him. Did Blake know me?
He’d certainly changed a lot over the
years, filling out and becoming even better
looking, and I knew I’d filled out a lot too.
My hair would be shorter and I hadn’t
shaved since I landed, so I had the scruff
going on, but surely I wouldn’t be that
different.
Blake’s face was one of those transparent
faces, where every emotion showed
plainly, and a myriad of emotions seemed
to be crossing his face at this moment.
Blake would look at me almost longingly
and then blush, his cheeks staining bright
red, whenever he caught my regard on
him. I wondered what was going on in that
beautiful head of his. How must his life
have been in these last few years, living
with this poisonous man, Tom Lewis?
I knew one thing for sure. I was about to
find out, and when I did, neither of our
lives would ever be the same.
Chapter 4
Blake was in class at the front of the
room, endeavoring to make the scripture
clear to the assembled students in the
room, but feeling tired and strangely
depressed since he’d seen a man who
looked just like Michael in the audience
the other night at the tent revival. Ever
since that night, he’d tried to convince
himself it was only his mind that had
conjured up this image after thinking so
much about him in the shower. It had to be
only his imagination—no way God would
bring Michael back into his life to torture
him again, unless the beautiful vision of
Michael didn’t come from God, but from
the devil. The devil would love to torment
his mind with visions and memories of
Michael.
He heard a commotion of some sort at the
back of the room. He looked up confused,
to see a group of at least eight to ten men
storming into the lecture room. They were
pushing the brother deacons aside and
bending over the young men in the chairs,
speaking urgently to them. A few of the
brothers ran outside, leaving only two or
three to try to deal with the madness in the
room. After his first initial shock, Blake
quickly realized who these men were from
the prominent logo on their shirts—they
were members of the radical homosexual
group who had been sending threatening
emails to Escape. Several of them were
wearing the t-shirts that announced the
name of the group, FAB. They were
pulling young men from their chairs and
herding them outside.
Suddenly Blake’s eyes grew wide as he
saw
a
large
angry
looking
man
approaching him, coming fast. Incredibly
it was Michael striding toward him. There
could be no mistake this time. This man
he’d tried so hard to forget and get out of
his mind and out of his heart--the one man
who still haunted his dreams since he’d
last seen him six years ago. No, it wasn’t
possible. This had to be some demon sent
to torment him. It couldn’t really be
Michael. God wouldn’t be so cruel.
Blake faced him head-on, along with
whatever was coming. The man with
Michael’s face was full of rage, and he
had his fists tightly clenched. Blake
wasn’t a coward, and if he had to defend
himself, he would, but he wouldn’t strike
the first blow. He tensed, ready to take the
punch he knew must be coming judging
from the absolutely furious look on the
man’s face. The man strode right up to him
and stopped mere inches away, probably
trying to intimidate him. It was working
pretty well, too. He was a good two
inches taller than Blake and more
muscular and well built. Blake stared
back at him, irrelevantly noticing his
clear, very blue eyes, blazing with
passion. Michael’s eyes. He raised his
chin to look directly into those eyes, not
backing down an inch.
Without warning, the man’s arms shot out,
not to punch Blake as he’d thought, but to
enfold him in his arms. His arms were
steel bands that enclosed him and captured
him, holding him almost motionless. Blake
was so surprised, his mouth fell open, and
the man, who surely was a demon,
lowered his head and took control of that
mouth, thrusting his tongue inside and
tasting him as he bent him back over his
strong arm. He pulled Blake’s hips against
him and ground his cock into Blake’s.
Blake felt his traitorous member instantly
grow harder than he’d ever felt it before
and strain against his zipper.
Blake was gasping for breath, and he tried
to struggle, but he could barely move.
Michael showed him no mercy, holding
him captive and plundering his mouth until
he finally surrendered his struggle, going
limp and sagging against the man,
trembling and weak-kneed.
As Blake surrendered, the man pulled his
head back and stared down at him. “Had
enough, baby, or do I need to continue
your first lesson?”
It was Michael! There could be no
mistaking that kiss, that voice.
“I-I...but how? Why? What are you doing
here,
Michael?”
Blake
whispered,
dazedly.
Michael smiled mockingly and unbuckled
Blake’s belt, unbuttoned his pants, and
pushed Blake’s pants down to his thighs,
ignoring his frantic cry and attempt to hold
off Michael’s hands. He slapped Blake’s
hands away. “Don’t fight me, sweetheart.
You’re going to submit to me whether you
like it or not. Now stand still or I’ll make
you regret it.”
Blake stopped struggling. Not because he
was frightened, but because he was so
shocked by Michael’s words. Submit to
him? A shiver of pure lust and excitement
shot through him.
Smiling, Michael moved his hands to
Blake’s ass, caressing and kneading it in
his hands, while he ground his cock
against Blake’s naked groin.
“What’s that, baby? An erection? Are you
trying to tell me something?”
Blake rolled his eyes and turned his head
away. Michael was too close, too
overpowering. He had to bite his tongue to
stifle the moans of pleasure erupting from
his lips.
Moving a hand back around to find
Blake’s
fully
erect
cock,
Michael
wrapped his hand around him and moved
his warm, wicked hand slowly up and
down. Blake’s face burned hotly with
shame. He tried to pull away but
Michael’s hand engulfed him, increasing
the pressure. Blake squirmed and made a
high-pitched sound as he tried again to
break the hold Michael had on him, but it
was useless. Michael held onto him by his
cock, pulling him back toward him,
rubbing his slit with his thumb. Blake
realized he was dripping with pre-cum.
He moaned, unable to hold in the sound as
Michael smiled down into his eyes and
moved his hand down to cup Blake’s balls
and give them a squeeze.
“Glad to see me, baby?”
Blake gasped and turned even redder.
“Please,” he groaned softly.
“Please what?” Michael laughed and
pulled his hands away. He looked deep
into Blake’s frightened eyes again and
dropped a kiss lightly on his lips. “You
can dream about this later. For now,
you’re coming with me, Blake. You can
make this hard or you can make it easy. Up
to you.”
Blake was still dazed and ashamed of his
huge hard-on. His brain refused to operate
properly. He tried to pull up his pants, but
Michael slapped his hands away.
He’d tried so hard over the years to forget
these
overpowering
feelings
and
especially this sinful man who must have
been sent to him as a temptation from the
devil. Blake tried to cover his erection
with his hands, humiliated that anyone
might see, but Michael pushed them away.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Michael said with a
smile. Blake wanted to hide what he was
for so long, but this man had known all
along. He’d known, and he’d exposed him
for the liar he was.
“I-I don’t understand. Why are you doing
this? Come with you where?”
“Don’t worry about where right now.
You’ll find out soon enough. Now are you
going to come peacefully or do I have to
make you?”
Blake nodded, certain if he said no,
Michael was crazy enough to pick him up
and carry him out. Michael pulled a piece
of black cloth and a large, plastic tie strap
out of his back pocket. He wrapped the
strap around Blake’s unresisting wrists
and tightened it so that he couldn’t move,
but not so tight it was uncomfortable. He
even put a finger up under the tie to make
sure it wasn’t cutting off his circulation.
Then he finally, blessedly, pulled up his
pants, taking his time as he tucked him in.
“You’re coming with me. I won’t hurt you
—you know that, right? At least, not
unless you make it necessary. I’d rather
not hurt you, Blake, because I just might
enjoy it way too much.”
Michael whispered this last part up close
to Blake’s ear, and Blake could feel his
face blaze with color, but he nodded, still
feeling dazed and confused. Michael
smiled again, and then showed him the
black cloth.
“I’m going to put this over your head. It
will block your vision, but you’ll be able
to breathe just fine.” He glanced down at
him again and Blake looked up at him. He
tried to put everything he felt in his gaze,
and he must have succeeded a little,
because Michael relented. He blew out an
aggravated breath. “Damn it, don’t look so
scared. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you and I
meant it.”
He slipped the cloth over Blake’s head,
and despite his best intentions, Blake
struggled. He’d always hated the dark, and
couldn’t bear it. He felt like the mask was
choking him, tightening around his face
until he couldn’t breathe. Blake had
asthma, usually not too bad, unless he got
really excited or upset—like now, for
instance. He gasped loudly, feeling like he
was about to hyperventilate. Right away,
the hood was pulled off, and Michael put
a hand on his chin and pulled his face
around to look at him. “What’s the matter?
Is it your asthma?” he asked.
Blake nodded, embarrassed at being so
weak in front of Michael. “C-can’t
breathe…need my inhaler…”
Michael reached into Blake’s pocket and
found it, holding it up to his lips and
giving him the puffs he needed. He pushed
him back down and sat beside him until
his breathing slowed down. “Why didn’t
you tell me you were getting bad?”
Blake just looked at him blankly, until he
put his hand under his chin and pulled his
face around to his. “Are you listening to
me?”
Blake jerked away. “I’m listening,” he
said, his voice sharp with irritation.
Michael smiled again, seemingly amused
at Blake’s defiance. “There’s the Blake I
remember,” he said. “What was it you
called me? Do you remember? You said I
was a devil sent to tempt you. An
abomination, you told me, and you never
loved me. You were just pretending to
care about me all that time.”
Blake flushed again as the hateful words
rose up again to haunt him. He’d
rehearsed the words he’d said to Michael
over and over before he’d seen him that
last time, trying to prepare for the hurt and
shock he knew would come. Still it hadn’t
been enough. He’d had to live with the
look on Michael’s face every day since
then, and he hadn’t forgotten one word
they said to each other that miserable day
in the parking lot.
Michael reached into his pocket, pulling
out a wicked looking knife. Blake
flinched, but Michael simply cut the hood
into one long strip, so that he could tie it
around Blake’s eyes. He tied it tightly, and
Blake could feel him pulling the fabric
down to make sure no light penetrated. He
helped Blake to his feet and pulled him
along by the strap on his wrists.
Blake could tell from the difference in
temperature that they were outside on the
front porch before he was helped down
the steps. He was pulled along for a few
yards and heard the sound of a door
opening.
Michael put a hand between his shoulders
and pushed him into a stifling hot place.
He stumbled in and fell up against another
body. Flinching away, he felt the other
person doing the same, and someone gave
a frightened little cry. It took him a
moment or two to calm down a little and
realize that the voice sounded like his
friend, and fellow team leader, Jerry
Todd.
“Jerry, is that you?” Blake whispered.
“Blake? Blake, I think they locked us in
the storage room.”
Michael’s deep voice from the doorway
made Blake spin blindly around. “Got it
the first time. We’ve called your father to
come get you, Blake. He should be here
pretty soon, so in the meantime, you boys
make yourselves comfortable. I even
opened the window for you, but there
doesn’t seem to be any air conditioning in
here. Looks like the two of you are going
to sweat a bit. Too bad.”
“Michael, please don’t do this. I don’t
care about me, but please release the
boys.”
His voice had a strange quaver, even to
his own ears. The truth was he was
terrified. Not of Michael or fears that the
others would hurt him, but of the powerful
attraction he had for this man, even under
these circumstances. Now as Michael
stepped forward, he must have leaned in
close to him, because Blake could smell
his scent, all warm skin and musk. Blake
still had half a hard on from what Michael
had done to him. As he came up close to
Blake, Michael put his hand over his
groin, causing Blake to jump and his cock
to harden even further.
He put his mouth right to Blake’s ear,
causing shivers to run through his body.
He whispered, “Almost like old times,
isn’t it, baby. You and me together in a
small, closed-in space again?” He
chuckled and stepped back. “You’ll be
okay here. Just a little warm, but it’s no
more than either of you deserve. Your
father should be here soon.”
Michael moved away and the door started
to close. Blake could hear the rusty hinges
whine as he shut them in. He was seized
suddenly with the idea that Michael was
leaving him again, and he’d never feel his
hands on him, never smell his sweet scent,
warm and close beside him.
He blushed hotly but spoke up as the door
closed, saying, “Wait! I-I have to go to the
bathroom. Please wait.”
No one replied, and Blake thought maybe
Michael might enjoy the idea that he
would suffer until they were let out. But
after a few seconds, the door swung wide
again. He heard an irritated sigh and
Michael was beside him again, standing
so close Blake leaned in a bit, raising his
bound hands and felt the hairs on
Michael’s arms brush them. It made him
shiver.
Blake pushed his hands forward, hoping to
be released, but Michael chuckled. “No
way. I’ll help.”
Blake
jerked
back,
not
so
much
embarrassed, but dreading and yearning
all at the same time for the feel of
Michael’s hands on him. Michael pulled
him outside—Blake could tell the
difference in temperature, and then he
pushed him up against a metal surface,
obviously the shed itself. He grabbed him,
turned him around quickly, unsnapped his
jeans and unzipped them. Whirling Blake
back around, he pulled his pants down to
his thighs, and a warm hand went around
the base of his dick.
Blake hissed out a breath. “God, Michael,
please.”
“Better go ahead if you need to. This is the
last chance you’ll get.”
Blake squirmed with embarrassment,
especially since his dick was getting
harder by the second. The feel of
Michael’s hand on him was like a half-
remembered dream. His thumb was
rubbing a small circle around and around
the
base
of
his
cock,
almost
unconsciously. Michael huffed out an
impatient breath. “Hurry up, Blake.”
“Okay,” he snapped. “I’m trying.” He
strained hard and finally managed to pee,
burning with humiliation. He needed to
say something to get Michael to talk to
him, but his mind went completely blank.
He would leave in another minute or so
and be out of his life again, and Blake
wasn’t sure he could take it.
Michael pulled him back against his chest,
patted his cheek, and whispered, “Good
boy,” in his ear. Chuckling when Blake
tried to jerk away, he tucked him back in,
zipped him up, and pushed him back
inside the shed.
He heard the door shut firmly and the lock
click into place, and just like that, Michael
was gone again. Another few minutes
passed, and he heard voices and car doors
slamming. Then the cars pulled away one
by one, leaving him alone in the shed with
Jerry, the only sound that of a black fly
buzzing at the window.
“They’re gone, I think. Thank God. I
thought they might try to hurt us,” Jerry
said, his voice sounding relieved and still
shaken.
“I knew Michael wouldn’t hurt us,” Blake
said softly. “He’s not that kind of man.”
“You knew that guy? That’s right, you kept
calling him Michael. How do you know
him? Can you tell the police his name?
Your father will call the police, right?
They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Blake shook his head, then realized Jerry
was almost certainly blindfolded too.
“No,” he said aloud. “I don’t think my
father will call the police. Some of the
boys were here against their will, and he
won’t want the police to know.”
“B-But your father is hours away! We
have to stay here like this until he comes?”
“No,” Blake said firmly. “We don’t. We
need to go get those boys back before
something happens.”
“Get them back? How in the world do you
propose we do that?”
Blake had never noticed how whiney and
thin Jerry’s voice was before--how
irritating. “Get a grip, Jerry. We’re two
grown men in a tool shed, with our hands
bound in front of us for goodness sake.
There must be plenty of implements we
can use in here to get free. We don’t have
to wait around to be rescued.”
Remembering a nail by the door that held
some sander belts, he groped his way over
to it and rubbed his face gingerly against
the doorframe until he found it. Hooking
the edge of the nail under his blindfold he
sank down to try and pull the blindfold
off. The blindfold was tied tightly and the
sharp edge of the nail head gouged a
stinging groove in the skin by his eye, but
he didn’t stop until the blindfold was
worked off. Blinking his eyes, he looked
around the dusty little storage room. Jerry
had a plastic tie wrapped firmly around
his wrists, as did Blake. Now that he
could see, he could get Jerry’s tie off,
since he had full use of his fingers.
He walked over to Jerry and released the
tie. Jerry pulled off his blindfold and
untied Blake’s hands. They stood looking
at each other for a moment. Jerry’s eyes
went wide at the sight of the blood
trickling down Blake’s face. Blake
brushed it away and shifted his gaze to the
open window. “I’ll shimmy out that
window and then you find me a crowbar
to use on the lock outside. I’ll have you
out in a minute.”
“Can it really be so easy?” Jerry lowered
his voice to a whisper. “Do you think they
have someone outside?”
Blake shook his head in exasperation.
Could Jerry be so stupid? Why had he
never noticed that before? Admittedly,
he’d never spent much time with the guy
before, but seriously…they’d heard them
drive off, and why would they have
someone hanging around outside to get
caught if the police came? “No, Jerry.
They’ve all gone. Find a crowbar in that
big tool box and hand it out to me when I
get outside so I can break the lock.”
Blake pushed up the window and hiked
himself up on the sill. In minutes he was
standing outside the window and Jerry
was handing him the tool he’d found on
the shelf. Jerry was a little too hefty to fit
through the window comfortably, so Blake
went around to the door and broke off the
lock. It took him a few minutes, but
eventually Jerry was standing beside him,
looking sheepish.
“Your dad will be furious.”
“No doubt.”
Jerry shifted his feet uncomfortably.
“What should we do now?”
“Not much we can do. Unless…”
“Unless?” Jerry looked up at him.
“We go after those boys,” Blake said
quietly. “It’s what my father would do.”
Jerry shook his head violently. “No. I
mean, how could we? They’ve been gone
a while now and there’s no way we could
catch up to them. We could call the
police.”
“I told you we can’t do that,” Blake
snapped. “Some of the boys weren’t at all
happy about coming here, and a few of
them were over eighteen. We can’t
embarrass their parents that way, and my
father would be furious. No, we can’t call
the police, but I know what we could do.
C’mon.”
Blake turned and ran toward the school
office, where he turned on his laptop.
Jerry trailed in the door behind him and
watched as he tapped the keys. “My father
had tracking devices put on all the vans.
They took one of them with them. All I
have to do is track it.”
Jerry stood behind him nervously chewing
on his bottom lip. “Maybe we’d better
wait for help, Blake. There were quite a
few of those guys.”
“We’re not going to fight them, Jerry.
We’ll just follow them and find out where
they’ve taken the boys. Then we can tell
my father and his men when they come.
He’ll know best what to do from that
point, but at least we’ll have something to
tell him.”
Jerry nodded. “Well, okay. If we don’t get
too close or anything.”
“You worry too much. We’ll be fine. All
we’ll do is locate the place they’ve taken
them, and then we can call my father.”
Blake found the van on the GPS tracking
device almost immediately, headed north
on I-85. He noticed the other car, the one
he had for his personal use, still sitting in
the driveway as he ran toward the office.
He opened a drawer in the desk to
retrieve the keys and jumped to his feet.
“Let’s go, Jerry. They’re only about thirty
minutes ahead of us. Bring the laptop.”
Flushed with some of the old excitement,
he felt more alive than he’d felt in years.
Was it because he’d seen Michael again?
Had Michael’s hands on him? No, he
couldn’t think about that—the devil really
was tempting him, and he had to be on
guard against these feelings that seeing
Michael again had dredged up. He thought
he’d put them behind him or at least
buried them so deep they only reoccurred
occasionally in dreams. He wouldn’t think
about that now—he had to find where
Michael and his group had taken the boys.
Only a tiny voice inside him, the one that
had tormented him over the years with the
memories of that summer, kept insisting
that what he was really racing toward was
Michael himself.
Michael
The drive north to the camp took about
two hours, and all the way, I had to keep
forcing the thoughts of Blake from my
mind. How could I be worried about him
after all he’d done? He deserved to be
locked in that hot, airless little storage
room. He and his friend could sit there
and stew over their own sins for a while.
Besides, I’d opened the window for them
—they wouldn’t suffer all that much.
Except Blake has asthma. That stupid
little voice inside me spoke up again and I
almost decided to turn the van around and
go back, leave them inside the air
conditioned building for his father to find
them. But that would be stupid. He still
had his inhaler and I’d tied his hands in
front of him. I didn’t care about Blake
Lewis anymore. Let him sweat. No matter
how many times he’d pulled those lost
puppy dog eyes on me, I knew him for
what he really was. I wouldn’t be taken in
by him again.
After we’d been traveling for about an
hour, some of the boys wanted to stop for
a rest room break, so I pulled in a gas
station/convenience store. They all went
inside and when they came out, Chad had
bought them Cokes and an assortment of
cookies and candy bars. None of the boys
seemed the worse for wear and they were
all in a jovial, joking mood, relieved to be
away from the camp. I guess they were
also tickled at having put something over
on their parents, in a way. The ones who’d
asked to go home—and there were only
two of them—had already been safely and
anonymously dropped off. One wanted to
go back home and the other wanted to be
dropped off at his dorm in downtown
Atlanta.
The others—five boys—had elected to
come with us, after a quick ID check
showed us they were all over eighteen.
We told them they could leave at any time,
and we’d only asked they respect our
anonymity. It was a risk, but I refused to
keep any of them against their will, even
for a moment.
We explained to them that they’d receive
counseling and, if they wanted it, help in
relocating away from their parents who
had, in some cases, forcibly taken them
from their homes and their dorm rooms.
Some of them said they wanted to take us
up on our offer, but I didn’t want them to
make a quick decision about something so
important. They needed some time first to
decompress and sort things out in their
own minds without any kind of pressure
from us or their parents.
By the time we got back on the road,
almost twenty minutes had passed, and I
wondered if anyone was chasing us. If so,
we’d given them time to catch up a bit. I
dismissed the idea, though, thinking Blake
and Jerry were both so damned scared,
they’d never get the nerve to free
themselves and come after us, and if they
called the police—which I strongly
doubted—they wouldn’t have had time
just yet to get the information they would
need to put out any kind of lookout for us.
Just to be on the safe side, I got out a map
while I waited and took some back roads
north toward the camp, trying to stay off
the interstate.
An hour or so later, we rolled through the
gates of the camp and onto the compound.
The next half hour or so was spent helping
them get settled in their new dorms, and
issuing sweats and underwear in the
proper sizes. None of them had had time
to take their luggage with them, and they’d
already told us their bags were full of stuff
their parents had packed for them anyway
—no I-pods, no cell phones, nothing they
would be sorry to leave behind.
I had a portable radio in my back pocket
and when it first started crackling I didn’t
pay much attention to it. There had been a
lot of chatter since we first arrived and
started getting the boys settled. A
breathless whispering voice and a tone of
urgency finally got my attention, though
and I put the portable close to my ear to
hear what exactly was going on.
“Two of them—over by the west gate.” A
hiss of static and interference and then,
“They’re not making any moves to come
in. Just sitting in their car.
I keyed up. “What kind of car?”
“Looks like an old Chevy of some kind.
It’s blue—can’t see the tag from here.”
There had been an old blue Chevrolet in
the driveway next to the van I’d taken
from the church camp. I closed my eyes
and blew out a breath. Blake—it had to be
him. But how did he find us? I took off
outside to the van and within a couple of
minutes I’d located the tracking device
under one of the back fenders and smashed
it on the ground.
Damn it. I should have realized that
Escape would be full of paranoid
assholes. They had used tracking devices
on their vehicles. And Blake had known
that. He’d been smart enough to get away
—and really, it shouldn’t have been hard.
I’d tied their hands in front of them and
left them in a shed full of tools. I just
hadn’t imagined Blake would be so
resourceful so fast. That he had come
himself I had no doubt. They would’ve
been afraid to call the police—I was still
sure of that. But had he told his father
where he was yet? If he had, then our
cover was completely blown and we’d
have to move camp right away. There was
only one way to find out.
Putting the portable to my mouth, I yelled
into it. “Keep them there—don’t let them
leave! I’m on my way. What’s your
location?”
I listened to the voice crackling on the
radio as I ran for my own car and sped off
toward the back gate. Halfway there, the
guys watching Blake and his passenger—
had to be Jerry—reported they were trying
to leave. They would have realized we’d
found the tracking device when the signal
suddenly ended.
“Stop them. Don’t hurt anybody, but make
sure you hold them till I get there.”
I was almost there, and I could hear the
sounds of a struggle coming across as he
quickly keyed up in answer. “Working on
it,” he said tersely, and I heard someone
cry out behind him.
Damn it, was that Blake? Had they hurt
him? And why the fuck did I care? I pulled
around the last curve and up to the cars
parked by the gate. Whatever struggle that
went on must have been brief, because the
guys had both Blake and Jerry Todd sitting
on the ground, their hands on the backs of
their necks. One of the guys from FAB,
Kurt, held a gun on them, but I knew for a
fact that it was unloaded. Still, I didn’t
like the idea, and I pushed the barrel away
from Blake as I crouched down in front of
him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
He flushed and bit his bottom lip. I
remembered that gesture from six years
before—he always bit his lips when he
was scared or nervous. It took everything
in me not to pull him in my arms and taste
it for myself.
“I came to look for the boys you took from
the camp. I’m responsible for them. You
have to give back them to me.”
“They’re not puppies, Blake. They’re
human beings, all over the age of consent,
and they’re all are here willingly.
Something you obviously overlooked
when they were forced into your camp.”
He didn’t answer, just turned his head
away and looked down. I dry washed my
face with my hands and stood up, turning
toward Kurt. “Get their car off the road
and take it into camp. Be sure it and the
van are under the shed and check it for a
GPS tracking device. Do they have cell
phones?”
He nodded. “One of them does. And a
laptop.”
“Turn them off and then drive them off the
mountain to dispose of them. As far away
from here as you can.” He moved off and
Blake looked up at me in shock. “You’re
taking my phone? And my laptop? What-
what are you going to do with us?”
I turned and crossed my arms, looking
down at him. “I wish to hell I knew.”
The car door opened and Michael pulled
Blake out. He stumbled along behind
Michael as he was pulled up a path of
some kind and into a building, noting a
temperature change and the different feel
beneath his feet.
The blindfold was taken off and he found
himself in a small room with no windows.
There was a double bed, a straight backed
chair, and an old dresser against the wall.
Michael pushed him over to the bed and
sat him down, taking off the strap tie.
Blake sat on the bed rubbing his wrists
and looking around. He glanced up warily
at Michael. What was he going to do?
Maybe he could talk to Michael
reasonably.
He cleared his throat. “Michael, don’t you
think this has gone far enough? Please. Let
me go, and I won’t say anything to get you
in trouble. Just please take me and Jerry
back to my car and we’ll leave.”
Michael stared down at him and shook his
head. “No, Blake. Not a chance.”
“Where have you taken me? Where’s Jerry
and the boys from the camp?”
Michael, who stood at the foot of the bed
and shrugged. “Not your worry. All you
need to worry about is yourself.”
“But Michael, please. You can’t just keep
me here. What are you--what are you
going to do to me?”
He smiled, showing strong white teeth.
“I’m not sure. Maybe a little re-
education. Isn’t that what you folks call
it?”
Blake shook his head. “I don’t understand.
What do you mean?”
“Well, some of you so-called preachers
decided a person could be scared and
brainwashed into being straight, so maybe
I can do the same to change you right back
into who you’re really supposed to be.
Interesting concept anyway. I’ll need to
think about it. For now, I have things to
take care of, and I need to leave you alone
for a while. I’ll be back later.”
“Michael, wait! Please. Don’t leave me
here. You can’t do this!”
Michael ignored him and locked the door
firmly behind him. Blake got up and
wandered around the room, looking for
any way to escape. There were no
windows or attic passages—nothing but
the four solid walls made of rough-hewn
logs. He opened a door to reveal a small
adjoining bathroom with a sink, a toilet,
and a small shower. Still no window.
Back in the main room, the door was
metal and strong on its hinges. There was
nothing to do but sit down on the bed to
wait for Michael.
He was so exhausted he lay back on the
bed and closed his eyes—just for a
minute. The next thing he knew, the door
opened again, and Michael walked in
carrying a tray. He brought it over to the
bed and sat it down beside Blake. Blake
looked suspiciously at the macaroni and
cheese, meatloaf, and green peas along
with a large glass of milk. Michael tossed
him a spoon wrapped in a napkin and
leaned back against the foot of the bed.
Blake picked it up and looked at it. “A
spoon? Really? What, you don’t trust me
with a fork?”
He shrugged. “Better eat it all. You won’t
get anything else until tomorrow morning.”
He smiled. “After your session.”
“My session? What are you talking
about?”
“I’ve decided I’m going to take you to
classes, Blake, and to a counselor to see
why you feel so ashamed of who you
really are that you allowed your father to
brainwash you all these years.”
Blake could feel a hot flush on his cheeks.
“Ashamed? Of course I’m ashamed of my
sinful past. Isn’t everyone? And I’m not a
homosexual, not any more. I’m trying hard
to put all that behind me and put
temptation behind me too. I’m not going to
subject myself to any liberal left wing so-
called psychologist who’ll just try to
confuse me.”
“You still haven’t quite grasped the
concept here, Blake. You don’t get to
make the decisions, boy.”
Blake jumped to his feet. “I demand that
you let me go. This is outrageous.”
“I tried to leave you behind, but you
followed me. We can’t just let you go and
ruin all our plans. I’m afraid you’ll have
to be our guest for a few days. Now sit
down and eat your dinner.”
“No, I won’t.” He picked up the tray and
sat it on the floor. “Guest!” he snorted in
disgust. “You mean prisoner! I’m not
sitting down, and I’m not eating anything
you give me. Who knows what might be in
it? There could be drugs in that. You can’t
make me eat it.”
“We both know I could if I wanted to. Suit
yourself, but you’ll get pretty hungry
before you get anything else to eat.”
The heat rose on Blake’s face again, but
Michael didn’t push it. Finally, perhaps
taking pity on him, he leaned forward and
spoke to him kindly. “Sit down and eat
your food. I‘m not trying to drug you--yet.”
Blake sullenly plopped himself back on
the bed and picked up the tray. He set it
back on his lap and glared at it
suspiciously. Finally, he grabbed the
spoon and began to push the food around
the plate. After he ate a few spoonsful of
the macaroni and cheese and drank a little
milk, he cast a resentful glance over at
Michael.
“Why are you keeping me here?” he
asked. “What do you plan to gain from
this? Where’s the rest of my group? Please
tell me where Jerry is.”
Michael stared at him. “You have a lot of
questions.” He shrugged. “You’ll find out
soon enough. For now, if you’re through
eating, go get a shower and go to bed.”
Blake jumped up off the bed and stood
defiantly. “I’m getting tired of you telling
me what to do. If you’re going to do
something to me, if you’re going to beat
me up because I won’t cooperate, go
ahead and get it over with. I’m through
playing your games.”
Michael stood and backed him up into the
wall. He put a hand on either side of his
head and leaned in close. Blake trembled,
but stared back at him, almost getting lost
in his eyes.
“Hush. Stop running that pretty little
mouth, take off your clothes, get a shower,
and go to bed. If you don’t move now, I’ll
do it for you. And I can promise you,
Blake, if I take you in that shower, you’re
going to get fucked. Or is that what you
really want?”
Blake wet his lips. He was silent for a
long time, and then his shoulders slumped.
He lowered his eyes and his face burned.
“I’m not afraid of you Michael. I know
you’d never r-rape me.”
Michael snorted. “Rape you? You really
think that would be necessary?” He patted
Blake’s erection, straining against his
pants at Michael’s closeness. “Don’t be
stupid.” He stood there for a few more
minutes, intimidating him, humiliating him
and then leaned away from him. “Get a
move on. I’ll be back later.”
Blake stood against the wall for a few
minutes longer, hot tears filling his eyes
before he slowly began to take off his
clothes.
Chapter 5
Michael
I signed off my email account and leaned
back in my chair. I felt vaguely depressed,
even though I was excited and keyed up by
the day’s events. I hadn’t expected to feel
so much for Blake. I thought I’d left all
those tender feelings far in the past, and
only felt bitterness now whenever I
thought of him and how he’d broken my
heart. Seeing him in person the other night
at the tent revival was bad enough—I’d
dreamed about him that night. Almost
every night since I’d awakened with an
aching erection and a throbbing down low
in my balls.
It made me furious with myself. I had to
harden my heart against him and not allow
Blake to get to me so easily. It had to be
some kind of nostalgia for the sweet boy I
first met six years ago. It was easy enough
to be tough on him when he acted defiant
and sure of himself, but when he got that
goddamned hurt look in his eyes —I
slammed my hand on the desk. Hell no, I
wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He’d brought
all this on himself with his stupid,
unreasonable refusal to admit who he
really was and leave his psycho father.
Instead, he’d chosen to stay with the man,
embrace his insane ideas and even help
him preach the poison. Now this boy from
Atlanta was dead, and I laid that directly
at Escape’s door.
Long ago I had begged Blake to leave, to
just run away and never look back. I
would have taken care of him—surely
he’d known that. I was all the family he’d
ever need, and we’d been so much in
love, even though we’d known each other
only a short time. Or at least I had been in
love. Blake had obviously been faking it,
experimenting with me and leading me on,
just playing with my emotions. But even if
he’d forgotten, I still remembered every
moment of that summer six years ago.
It was the summer my dad had been
diagnosed with colon cancer. A terrible
time, with my mother walking around the
house looking like she’d been given her
own death warrant. In a way, I guess she
had. They’d been high school sweethearts
and had been married for over twenty-five
years. She told me she didn’t know how to
live without him.
I was living in Atlanta at the time, but
came home at once to be with my parents.
The cancer was the worst kind, very
aggressive, and though my dad was trying
hard to downplay the whole thing, we all
knew it was really serious. He started
chemo right away and suffered through the
deathly illness it brought without so much
as a whimper of complaint. The only thing
he was worried about was, of all things,
his church youth troop.
My dad had been a youth leader for many
years, and he loved to camp with his kids
and teach them campcraft. Long after my
brothers and I had decided we didn’t like
camping any more, my father kept on,
taking his group and enjoying every minute
of it. He loved the camping and the woods
and the interaction with the kids. He was
an elementary school teacher and had one
of those rare, true callings to work with
young people.
That summer he’d promised to supervise
some of his charges as they practiced their
skills, getting ready to finish up their last
few badges. There were three boys, all
around the age of eighteen, all of whom
my father had worked hard with over the
years so they could come so far. With my
dad ill, however, he wasn’t able to take
them on their last camping trip to help
earn their badges, and he thought he was
letting them down. Efforts to find a
replacement hadn’t been successful—
everyone else was busy with vacations
and work responsibilities.
I finally told him I would take his place
with the group and lead the boys on their
last camping trip. Though not a youth
leader, I had learned from the best and had
even gone on some preparatory camping
trips with my father over the years, so I
basically knew what the job entailed, as I
helped him get the camps ready. It would
only be for a couple of weeks and to tell
the truth, I needed to get away from the
oppressive atmosphere at home and do
something to keep myself busy while we
waited to see how my father would
respond to treatment.
My father had been thrilled, so I made the
hour long journey up to the church camp
called Camp Bennett near a small town in
the North Georgia Mountains, and set up
camp to wait for the young men.
The boys arrived late that afternoon.
There were three of them, Chad, Matthew,
and Blake. All three were handsome,
quiet, and polite young men, but it was
hard not to notice Blake, right from the
start. Blake was eighteen, a year ahead of
the other two boys. He was fairly tall,
slim, and tan. His sandy colored hair was
shot through with pale, blond highlights,
and his eyes were a mossy green. He was
fucking gorgeous, and I felt my crotch
tighten just looking at him. I had been out
since I was a teenager, and I was twenty-
one then. I would never come on to these
guys,
especially
ones
under
my
supervision, but I knew I’d probably have
to take a lot of cold dunks in the stream
over the next two weeks.
Blake seemed quiet and subdued, very
different from the other two guys who
were jostling and wrestling with each
other, making a lot of jokes. Chad and
Matthew just seemed to naturally gravitate
together and set up their tent together. That
left Blake sharing a tent with me. Great.
Blake went to work right away and picked
out a good site to put up the small tent. It
was some thirty or forty feet away from
the other boys, and I wondered why he put
it up so far away, but it was near the
stream and in a nice, shady spot, so I
didn’t say anything, just moved my gear
inside the tent and laid out my sleeping
bag.
The first evening passed quietly enough,
with everyone getting to know each other.
A couple of times during the evening
around the campfire, I sensed Blake’s
eyes on me, studying me carefully. When I
returned his regard, I half-expected Blake
to drop his gaze, but he didn’t. Instead, he
met my eyes and smiled shyly at me. Once,
our hands met when we were both adding
wood to the fire, and I could have sworn a
spark leaped between them and physically
jolted me.
That night, we sat for a long time by the
fire, long after the other two boys had
gone to their tent. We weren’t saying much
of anything. Blake looked at me with what
looked like a growing kind of hero
worship in his eyes. A heady thing,
especially considering how attracted I
was to him. Dangerous, I thought. I’d have
to be careful to keep my guard up with this
one. Finally, I got to my feet, stretching
and said, “We’d better get to sleep. You
have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”
Blake nodded and started banking the fire,
while I crawled into the tent and pulled
off my jeans, stowing them in my bag. It
was so warm I decided not to get into my
sleeping bag right away, instead lying on
my back on top of it. Blake crawled into
the tent beside me and lay on his back next
to me. I was hyper-aware of Blake lying
only inches away, breathing the same air.
I told myself sternly to cool it. This guy
was three years younger than I was, and
what was even more important, he was
under my direct supervision. It would be
totally inappropriate for me to act on my
attraction to Blake. I took a deep, relaxing
breath and willed myself to go to sleep.
Just then Blake put his hand tentatively,
gently, on my thigh. I froze. In fact, neither
of us moved for a long moment. I breathed
in abruptly, surprised, and despite my
good intentions, excited. Blake slowly
moved his hand to my inner thigh, stroking
gently.
“Stop it, Blake,” I said quietly.
Immediately, Blake pulled his hand away,
and a tense silence settled over the inside
of the tent. A moment later I heard a soft
sniffling sound. I leaned up on one elbow.
“My God, are you crying?”
“No,” came a small, choked sound.
I threw all my scruples out in that moment
and turned toward him saying quietly,
“Come over here.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then
Blake crawled over to me and lay down
beside me, our bodies touching. “I’m
sorry. Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad, honey. This is just wrong.
I’m supposed to be your leader.”
“You’re not much older than me, though.
It’s not like you’re our real leader.
“No, not exactly, but...it’s still not…”
Blake rolled over on top of me, stretched
out so every inch of him was touching me
and kissed me. I gasped and pushed him
back off me as gently as I could.
“We can’t, Blake. Please understand.”
Blake hesitated only a moment before he
came back up on top of me, pressing his
lips frantically to mine. The kiss was slow
and sweet and very hot. Blake’s lips were
warm and full, and he opened his mouth
and breathed into mine softly.
I deepened the kiss, gently teasing Blake’s
mouth open wider with my own, sweeping
my tongue over the inside of his mouth and
biting gently on his lips. Blake groaned
and threw his arms around my waist,
putting his head on my chest as he
squeezed me tightly.
I pulled away, already out of breath. “Do
you know what you’re doing? Damn it,
Blake, I don’t want to take advantage of
you.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing. I wanted
you the first moment I saw you. I know
you like other g-guys. I’ve heard my father
talk about it. I’ve always wanted this, and
I’ll never have this chance again. You’re
so...so handsome.” Blake sighed, and I
squeezed him tightly. “Don’t get in such a
hurry, Blake. This isn’t…I don’t feel right
about it.”
Blake looked up at me. “I’m over eighteen
and I know what I want. I want to do this.”
“No, I said, shaking my head. “You barely
know me.”
“I know enough,” he said and flung
himself over me again. “Please Michael.”
He knelt between my thighs and pulled
down my shorts in one quick motion.
Bending down over me he ran his hand
over the length of my cock and down to
cup my balls. I squirmed and huffed out a
shocked breath.
“No,” I said, reaching for him, but he bent
and took me into his mouth, the velvety
warmth taking my breath away. Slowly he
moved his lips back up. Up and down, up
and down, and with every stroke, I was
gasping and groaning and unable to lie
still. He cupped my balls and kneaded
them, squeezing gently to try to settle me. I
knew I should throw him off me, stop this
thing now, but I couldn’t. I was too
excited, too far gone.
I looked down and watched his beautiful
face and made a half-hearted attempt to
push him away, but Blake moaned out,
“No...no, don’t stop me, please. Not
now!” He put his head back down and
continued, moving even faster now. It
didn’t take very long. When I felt myself
close I tapped him wildly on the shoulder
to warn him, but he shook his head and
swirled his tongue over the head of my
cock. It was game over.
With a loud groan of excitement, I came
explosively, my hips bucking. He kept his
mouth on me, taking in every drop. He
kept me in his mouth until I lay still, spent
and exhausted. I had a hard time catching
my breath and he looked down at me with
a wide-eyed expression of wonder. I
laughed gently, and reached for him,
pulling him down on top of me.
I continued to caress him gently, and
Blake was still gloriously hard, his
breathing coming faster and faster. He
gripped my arms, a panicky expression on
his pretty face. “I’m having a heart attack.
It feels too good, I can’t do this.”
“It’s okay, baby. Let me show you.” I
pulled him over so that our cocks were
lying alongside each other. Clutching him
to me, I began to rock my hips gently,
rubbing him against my already half-hard
cock. I snuggled both of our cocks together
in my hand and put my free hand on his hip
to hold him close.
The feeling was incredible, and soon we
were sliding together in my fist. On every
upward stroke I swept my thumb over the
wet heads of our cocks and Blake would
moan with pleasure. He watched my hand
for a while, and then attacked my mouth,
trying to use his tongue as I had. It was
inexperienced and wet and sloppy and
goddamned hot as hell. Soon his breathing
hitched and grew more rapid, and I knew
he was close.
“Come for me, baby. Come in my hand,” I
whispered against his mouth. He gasped
and then wet heat was flowing over my
fist. I joined him right away—I was very
young too--and we clutched each other,
his sweet breath mingling with mine.
Afterward we lay in each other's arms,
exhausted and exhilarated. Blake turned
toward me and kept touching my face.
"I never knew it could be like that. I
wondered...I dreamed about it, but I didn't
really know. Sometimes I look at stuff on
the computer. I go to websites—my dad
would die if he knew. It made me
feel...excited...but dirty, you know, like I
was doing something wrong that nobody
else did. Nobody else I knew of even
wanted that but me, or that’s what I
thought. Then on the way up here today,
one of the other guys, Chad, I think, started
talking about how he'd heard you were
gay. Cool and a great guy and all, but gay.
I’d already heard my dad talk about it but
he whispered it so his parents wouldn’t
hear.” He lowered his gaze and bit on his
bottom lip.
“I couldn't wait to see you and meet you.
My dad told me that gay men were all
weird and abnormal, but you’re so...so
perfect. And so handsome." He blushed,
and I couldn't resist kissing him again.
We kissed for a long time and then I said,
"So I wasn’t what you expected?"
"God, no—I mean, you're so strong and
masculine and so good looking. Not at all
what I thought you might be. All evening I
could barely sit still just looking at you
and wondering what it would be like
to...you know..."
I laughed softly. "Yeah, I think I found out.
I didn’t mean to touch you, you know.” He
gave me an adorably hurt look and I
smiled and touched the side of his face.
“No, I mean, it’s inappropriate, honey, to
say the least.
"I know. I didn't mean to touch you like
that either. I mean, I wanted to touch you,
but I was scared to, and I thought you
wouldn't like it. But then when I got in the
tent and you were so close by, and you
smelled so good. I just couldn't stop
myself."
I hugged him tight against him. “Okay.
We’ll deal with it. But if you decide in the
morning that this was a big mistake, then
just say so. Don’t feel like you have to do
this again."
Blake nodded shyly and snuggled up
against my chest. God, he seemed so
young. If I hadn’t seen his paperwork
myself I would have thought he was much
younger than eighteen, almost nineteen. I
got another uneasy feeling, and tried to
gently pull away, but he wrapped his arm
around me and squeezed me tightly.
Eventually we fell asleep in each other's
arms and the closeness and instant rapport
set the tone of the next few days.
We fucked like rabbits, whenever we
could and as much as we could, and all
my good intentions were useless. We'd
sneak off sometimes during the day and go
deep in the woods to make love. Then all
night long we would lie in each other's
arms. We couldn't get enough of each
other. Blake told me over and over how
much he loved me and sometimes late at
night, sticky with lovemaking, we'd go
skinny dipping in the stream beside camp,
the bright starlight sparkling off the water.
The only thing that marred our nights
together were the bad dreams Blake had
sometimes. Some so bad he’d wake up
screaming.
One night after a particularly bad one, I
pushed him for information. What were
the dreams about? What was after him in
his dreams? The only thing he ever
remembered was an open grave, with dirt
falling down into a doll’s open mouth and
eyes. After that, nothing at all. He’d clam
up and refuse to talk about them anymore.
It only happened a couple of times though,
and every night was spent in each other’s
arms.
All this time, I imagined that what I felt
was like being under the effect of a
powerful drug, the mix of unnamed
pleasure and fear that must come as the
needle slips in and you know you're
risking something big. Blake was so
young, and his father, from what he told
me, had so much influence on his life. I
was afraid our time together would be
brief, and Blake would come back under
the influence of the man and turn away
from me. But I couldn't stop.
Neither of us could. No matter what, I
thought I had to follow this journey to
wherever it would take me and be host to
all the possibilities in myself and in
Blake. After a time the wanting became
needing and the needing turned to craving,
and I couldn’t bear to think of a time when
it might end.
One day, in the most ordinary, mundane
way, though, it was over. The two weeks
were up, and the tasks were all
accomplished, and the parents came to
pick up the boys. The night before he left,
Blake lay trembling in my arms and told
me he was frightened. Frightened of what
his father would make him do.
"Run away with me. You're almost
nineteen now. He can't stop you. Call me
and I'll come to pick you up and take you
home with me. I have my own apartment,
and I'll take care of you. We'll manage
somehow—my parents will help, if I need
them to. I’ll take care of things, Blake. Just
please trust me."
Blake sighed. "That sounds so wonderful,
but you don't know him. He's so strong,
and so convincing. He won't let me come
to you."
"Bullshit, Blake, how can he stop you? If
it’s what you really want, that is."
Blake just kept shaking his head, saying,
" It is what I want—more than anything.
You just don't know him...what he's
capable of."
"Yeah, well, I'm not scared of him. I'll talk
to him if you want me to."
"No!" Blake got a panicked look on his
face. "Please don't say anything. Promise
me you won't."
"Okay, calm down, I promise, but don't be
so scared. For God’s sake, just stand up to
him for once. Be a man. Tell him what you
really want."
Blake didn't say anything else, but the next
day his father, old and gray-haired with a
face that looked like he’d been sucking on
sour pickles even then, pulled up and
helped him put his gear in the car. Blake
could hardly look at me, and never even
waved or looked back as they pulled
away. I stood looking after the car long
after it disappeared down the road and got
a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The next day, I returned home to find my
father had taken a turn for the worse. I was
so worried and upset over my family
problems the next few days and spent so
much time at the hospital I didn't have time
to call Blake or check on him. When I
finally got a chance to call him, Blake was
distant and cold, refusing to stay on the
line. When I called him back, Blake’s
father answered and refused to put him on
the phone, coldly telling me Blake didn't
want to speak to me. He asked that I never
call again.
I hung up and got in my car right away,
driving furiously over to Alabama to find
Blake. I knew he lived at home but
commuted thirty miles or so to just over
the Alabama line at Longley College. So I
drove up to Longley and asked around
until I found the right parking lot for
Freshmen day students. I spent the night in
my car and waited around outside the next
morning until I saw Blake getting out of an
old pickup truck. I walked over to Blake
and grabbed his arm as he started to walk
to class. I pushed him back up against the
fender. Blake looked shocked at the sight
of me, but quickly became cold and stone
faced. He pushed me back as he stood up
to face me.
"What are you doing, Michael?"
“What am I doing? What the fuck are you
doing, Blake?”
"I should think it was fairly obvious. I was
going to class."
"You know what I mean, damn it. Don’t be
such a smartass. Why are you giving me
the cold shoulder? Why wouldn’t you
come to the phone when I called? Why did
you tell your father you never wanted to
speak to me again?"
Blake's face flushed, but he spoke calmly.
"Not that I owe you an explanation, but
what happened between us was a mistake.
It was a terrible sin and temptation I failed
to resist. Now I have to atone and ask for
forgiveness. I’m straight, Michael, not
gay."
I snorted in disbelief. “Tell me another
one! You sure fooled me, Blake, all those
times you let me fuck you.”
Blake blushed and frowned and held out
his hand. "You can ask for forgiveness
too, Michael. God will forgive you, if you
truly repent."
I looked down at his hand and then
slapped it away. "What the fuck are you
saying? What has that son-of-a-bitch done
to you?"
Blake looked at him coldly. "Nothing. I've
finally realized you were sent by the devil
to tempt me, that's all."
I shook his head. "No, Blake. Don’t do
this, please. You said you loved me."
"Love you?" he replied, his voice
strangely distant and mechanical. "Love
between you and me would be an
abomination. I never loved you at all. I
just wanted to see what it would be like to
be with a man. I thought maybe it would
help me in my mission—to understand
what those poor gay boys go through. I
know now it isn't what I want—not ever."
I felt like he’d hit me in the gut. I was too
stunned and too hurt by what he said even
to reply. Blake pulled his book bag back
up on his shoulder and half-turned to
leave. "Please leave me alone, Michael. I
never want to see you again. The only
thing you have to offer me is eternal
damnation."
Something broke inside my chest. I looked
at Blake standing there and shoved him
hard and said in a low, vicious voice.
"Get the fuck away from me."
Blake's face blanched, and he gave me one
more long look before he took off out of
the parking lot, walking fast and not
looking back. I stood there for a few more
minutes, trying to control my breathing,
trying to not chase after him and beg him
to come back to me, and then I drove
slowly off campus and back home to
Atlanta.
By the end of that awful summer, my father
had succumbed to the cancer eating him up
inside. I sank into a depression that was
hard to pull out of, but I managed to do it.
I moved on after a while and threw myself
into work, and never again, well, hardly
ever, thought about that summer six years
ago. When I did, I promised myself if I
ever saw Blake Lewis again, I’d get
payback. Somehow, some way I’d make
Blake regret the day we ever met, just as
much I did.
Chapter 6
“Damn Michael’s soul to hell,” thought
Blake, trying to loosen his hand. He’d
been fiddling with the nylon tie for over
an hour, but he couldn’t manipulate it with
only one hand.
Before Michael left him that morning, he
had harnessed one of Blake’s hands to the
iron headboard of the bed with a nylon tie.
Damn him. Does he still hate me so much
after six years? Blake struggled to get
away, frustrated and angry, his feelings
strewn all over the place in his head and
unable to determine exactly what he felt.
Too many emotions to narrow it down to
just one.
Blake was lying on the top of his bed
where Michael had left him after forcing
him to strip down to his underwear and
tying his wrist to the bed. He’d left gay
porn movies playing on TV to torment
him. Blake knew Michael wanted to
humiliate him, and it was working. He’d
never felt so frustrated and ashamed in his
life. He could still see the hateful smirk on
Michael's face as he left him that morning.
He hadn't even brought him lunch. Blake
was starving, but he'd never admit it.
“I have things to do with the other boys, so
I'll leave you here to contemplate your
sins. I thought I'd put on a little TV for you
to watch while I'm gone. Oh, and I'll leave
one of your hands free, Blake. I'm sure
you'll need it to take care of business after
a while. These movies get pretty hot.” He
grinned devilishly down at him before
walking toward the door.
“So what's the plan, Michael? Starve me
into submission? Show me bad movies?
That's a great plan.”
He walked back over to stand over Blake.
“You just have to run that mouth, don't
you? I'm going to teach you to keep it shut
until I tell you that you can talk.” He
reached into a drawer by the bed and
pulled out a kind of gag. It was leather and
had a ball-looking apparatus that would fit
inside the mouth and tie behind the head.
“Don't you dare put that thing on me! No!
Don’t! Please!”
Michael grinned and after a brief, vicious
struggle, wound up on top of him,
straddling him on the bed. Blake was
breathing hard through his nose, but held
his lips firmly shut. The worst thing though
was he had a raging hard-on with Michael
sitting on top of him. Hell, he’d had one
all night. Michael had insisted on sharing
the twin bed with him, meaning their
bodies were pretty much plastered
together all night. When he’d awakened
that morning Michael was lying half on
top of him.
Michael pinched his nose until he had to
open his mouth, but Blake kept his teeth
tightly closed.
“C'mon, now, be a good boy. Open your
mouth and take your medicine.”
Blake shook his head violently, and
Michael laughed. “Open up like a good
little boy and I'll suck your dick for you
later.”
Blake gasped in surprise, and Michael
slipped the gag inside, over his tongue,
and tied it behind his head. Blake made
groaning sounds and tried to scream at him
to take it off. It came out as a ridiculous
sounding garble.
After a long moment of looking down at
him, while Blake glared with pure hatred
up at Michael, he sat back, still straddling
him and considered him carefully.
“I don’t think I like that expression on
your face. Are you being defiant?”
A long moment of hesitation followed,
while Blake struggled with his answer.
Finally, his mutinous expression faded,
and he shook his head.
“Are you going to be a good little boy?”
Blake nodded.
“Say please.”
Blake’s eyebrows lifted, and he puffed his
breath out heavily. Finally, a garbled
sound emanated from behind the gag.
“Can’t quite make it out...was that a
‘please’?”
Blake nodded again vigorously.
Michael untied the gag and took it off.
Blake choked and coughed. Michael got
off him and patted his cheek.
“Next time I leave it on a while and let
you really consider your bad behavior.”
He bent over and caressed Blake's
throbbing hard member.
“See you later, baby. Think about that
smart mouth and what I’ll do to you next
time. Maybe if you’re a good boy and
apologize real sweet to me, I’ll take care
of you when I get back.”
Smiling, he walked out the door and left
Blake fuming and humiliated, tied to the
bed. The TV was a large flat screen that
was playing raunchy gay porn. Michael
told him he would take great pleasure in
checking the bed for semen stains when he
came back in the room. He'd be
disappointed, Blake promised himself
angrily, but Blake knew it was only a
matter of time till he had to take care of
his needs. It wasn't the porn, though the
constant sex scenes did torment him, it
was the presence of Michael driving him
crazy. Part devil, part angel, he seemed to
take fiendish delight in Blake’s torment
and shame.
On the one hand, Michael still held that
wonderful, comforting, yet mystically
heady sway over Blake, making him feel
safe whenever he was near, and yet, at the
same time making him feel completely
terrified of his menacing, raw force.
It seemed to Blake he was terrified most
of the time. His father had told him he
needed to be punished, and punished often
to keep him on the straight and narrow. It
was only when he spent those two perfect
weeks with Michael that he'd felt safe, just
for a little while. Then when he'd come
home and his father had discovered what
had happened, his punishment had been—
severe.
Blake knew without question that no one
would hurt him physically in this strange
place Michael had taken him to, because
he trusted Michael. Even when Michael
was angry at him and punishing him, like
he was doing now. He still would rather
be here with Michael than anywhere else.
He just couldn't let him know how he felt.
If he did, he would take advantage of it.
He hadn't yet been out of this room, and it
had been a whole night and day. He knew
why Michael insisted on his partial nudity
today—that way his deepest secrets were
exposed. He wouldn't be able to hide how
he felt about Michael any longer. His
almost constant erections were becoming
more and more painful, and taking longer
and longer to go away.
That's really why Michael fettered him to
this damn bed with no chance of escape,
he thought angrily. He couldn't make up
his mind if he was more upset that he was
tied to this bed or that Michael wasn't here
with him while he was. Michael, with his
beautiful blue eyes watching him, waiting
for him to break and touch himself with
his free hand. Touch himself while
Michael watched. How long would it be
before he broke down and begged
Michael to stroke it for him? To put it in
his beautiful, sinful mouth?
Michael said he’d been taught lies over
the years. Last night after Michael
returned, he’d allowed Blake to go to bed,
but kept him awake for at least an hour,
reading to him from a book about what he
said some people thought was the true
nature of God—a God of love and
acceptance. Getting him mixed up—
making everything go around and around
in his head. Then he lay down beside him
and spooned him, keeping his hand
planted firmly on Blake’s dick.
Deep down, though, Blake began to
wonder if the “truths” he had been taught
about God were really not truths at all,
like Michael said, but just things some
men made up to eradicate a love they
didn’t understand or a love they felt
challenged by. Worse, to destroy a love
they wanted to experience themselves, but
never had the courage to try.
Blake thought if this were true, then God
might be a God of love. Love no matter
the form, man for man, woman for woman,
it didn’t matter, love was love. That was
the message Blake had always wished his
father would preach instead of the hateful,
conditional love his father seemed to
believe was the only kind.
He wanted Michael to come back in the
room right now, tie both of his hands to
the headboard, and slide between his legs.
He wanted to feel Michael's weight
pressing down on him as Michael's
beautiful cock pressed against his ass. He
wanted to feel every inch of Michael's
cock as it filled him and he took him
against his will, and he wanted to feel
Michael as he trembled and strained
against him, shooting his hot load deep
into him. Blake wanted to be fucked, hard
and deep.
Half asleep, Blake pushed down his
underwear and his free hand wandered to
his already hard cock and he stroked it,
whispering
Michael's
name.
Blake
shuddered and turned to his side just as
his cum shot from his cock, a stream
hitting the rug, leaving evidence of his sin,
but he didn't care. He was drained and
spent,
literally.
Emotionally
and
physically, Blake feared he was entering a
place where if he were not careful, he
could endanger his soul. Whether he were
risking it in this world or the next he
wasn't really sure.
Blake knew he couldn’t give Michael any
indication these were his feelings, let
alone act on them, but it didn't stop the
reality of how he felt and had for as long
as he could remember, no matter how hard
his father tried to beat or pray it out of
him. The voices of countless preachers
praying for his salvation and his life as a
straight man had failed.
Blake knew it, and he knew he was
doomed for it, but he also knew he
couldn't help it. He thought maybe if
Michael went to hell with him, he might
be able to stand it.
Blake didn't really worry about the other
boys taken by this group of Michael's. He
knew deep down that Michael was a good
man and would never do any harm to
anyone, much less a group of young men.
As sure as Blake was of this, he was not
so sure about his own fate. Not that he’d
hurt Blake physically, but emotionally he
was in grave danger.
He remembered the terrible things he’d
said to Michael, but he had only said them
to make Michael leave because of his
father’s threats. Hell, he could barely
stand without swooning, so pervasive was
the hold Michael had on him back then.
But the things he’d said had made Michael
hate him. Michael looked at him that last
day he’d come to see him as if he wanted
to kill him. Now that he was at Michael’s
mercy, he didn’t know what he might do to
him.
If Michael forced him to make love to
him, made him obey, then he couldn't help
it, could he?
“Damn it!” he said out loud, knowing
there was no one, not even God, listening
to him. Sleep addled sobs shook Blake's
body as he drifted into deeper sleep. A
sleep where his very own archangel
Michael, stretched out his wings to shelter
and protect him. To protect Blake from the
baby doll with black dirt in her mouth and
eyes, crying to be rescued from the grave.
He needed Michael to protect him from
his gay hating, retribution preaching
father. As sleep took him, Blake thought
he might need saving from his own desire
most of all.
Michael
I watched Blake through the closed circuit
TV. I had rarely left him alone and
unobserved since he got there because of
his asthma, and I wanted to see what
would happen when I left him in the room
alone. I’d watched him as he’d jerked
himself off, and had to turn away from the
screen to keep from embarrassing myself.
Damn it, I was also concerned about the
way Blake kept crying and slipping down
into sleep and the bad dreams he seemed
to be having. I wondered if they were the
same bad dreams as he’d had years ago,
the ones about dolls with dirt in their
mouths and eyes. An unpleasant image, but
not so bad as nightmares went. Why did
they upset him so much?
I decided to go and wake him and give
him something to eat. I enjoyed teasing
and humiliating him a little bit, I had to
admit, but these tears and prayers and bad
dreams didn't seem healthy to me. I was
beginning to be very afraid that Reverend
Lewis had done some real psychological
damage to his son. If so I would have to
take him back right away. I wouldn’t have
that on my conscience. The trouble was I
couldn’t convince myself that taking him
back to his father wouldn’t be even worse.
I went into the cafeteria and quickly got a
lunch tray, then hurried down the hallway
and unlocked the door. Blake stirred as
the door opened, and I went over to him
and sat beside him on the bed. “Ready to
wake up and eat lunch now?”
Blake nodded his head.
“Are you going to be a good boy?”
Blake flushed and nodded again.
“No more smart remarks?”
Blake tightened his lips, an angry look in
his eyes. He glanced up once belligerently
at me but said nothing.
“That's right,” I said, smiling. “Don't talk
until I give you permission. Understood?”
Blake nodded again sullenly.
I took the strap tie from his wrist and let
him sit up on the bed beside me. “I
brought you some lunch.”
Blake held out his hands for the tray. “No,
I'm going to feed it to you.”
“What?” Blake said loudly. “I don’t need
you to feed me like I’m some kind of…“
At the look on my face, he suddenly
blushed and clapped his hand over his
mouth. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I won't
do it again.”
“Damn right you won’t or the gag goes
back on. Understood?”
Blake looked nervous and nodded.
“Speak to me.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Say yes sir. That’s sufficient.”
“Yes, sir.” He shot me an absolutely
furious and unrepentant look, and I felt a
little easier about him. Maybe that was the
key. Maybe if I kept him angry enough,
he’d stop all that crying. It was seriously
taking away my edge.
“Now hush and eat every bite.” I ordered
as I began to feed Blake. I fed him egg
salad sandwiches, remembering he used to
dislike them. I made him eat every bite,
despite his furious face and then fed him
pieces of an apple and a big glass of milk.
After I fed him, I put the tray on the floor
and smiled at him. “Very good. You're
learning. From now on, you'll do exactly
as I say, and the only thing I want to hear
from you is 'Yes sir.' Are we clear?”
“Yes sir,” Blake said with just a bit too
much emphasis on the sir.
“Good boy,” I said again, choosing to
ignore the sarcasm. I smiled. “Very good,
Blake. And if I decide to let you have an
orgasm tonight, that won't be a sin, will
it?”
Blake looked uncertain, but shook his
head. “No, that's right, it's not a sin to do
what you were born to do, what you want
to do, is it? Remember what we talked
about last night?”
Blake nodded his head, his eyes large and
green in his pale face. I couldn’t resist
kissing his lips gently. “That's right, baby.
You want me to fuck you, don't you?”
Blake looked miserable. He couldn’t meet
my eyes.
I smiled. “In fact, you’d like it if I fucked
you every day. And sucked you off, too,
right?”
“Please, Michael.” Blake breathed harder
and harder, his cock growing thicker with
every word I said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t touch you until you
ask me to. First I'm going to take you to get
a shower.” I absently rubbed the dried
semen off Blake's stomach. “You've been
a bad boy while I was gone, haven't you?
You've been touching yourself?”
Blake narrowed his eyes, glaring at me.
“You know, I don’t think I want you to
touch yourself anymore unless I give you
permission. No other man’s hand should
be on you but mine. Not even yours.
Understood? Get up and go to the
shower.”
Blake got up, casting another evil glare at
me. “Take off your underwear, Blake.”
Blake slid them down to his ankles and
stepped out of them, glancing over his
shoulder at me and looking at me from
under his eyelashes. Was he deliberately
being seductive or could he just not help
it? His body was perfection, all muscles
and lean lines, except for that round little
ass. God! He walked to the shower,
trembling because he knew my gaze was
following him.
“Turn on the water and adjust it.” Blake
did as he was told. “Now get in and soap
yourself up.” Blake blew out a frustrated
breath, but bit his lip and began to soap
himself while I stood outside the glass
door, watching him. “Soap up your cock,
baby. Soap it up real good so I can see it.”
I watched while Blake soaped his cock
and looked at me. “Do you want me,
baby?”
“I…Michael, please don’t do this.” Blake
said softly.
“Ask me to fuck you,” I said softly.
“I-I...”
“Ask me…”
“Please, I...”
“Please what?”
“I can't ask you. You have to make me,
don't you see? You have to make me.”
“What?” My eyes widened in surprise. “I
have to make you? I’m not into rape,
Blake. I’m not forcing myself on you.”
Blake stepped up to the glass and looked
at me. His cock was pressed against the
glass too, and I hissed in a breath and felt
myself growing harder by the second. It
wasn’t only Blake who was suffering for
this game.
“Michael, just come inside here with me,
and tell me I have to do as you say.
Everything you say. You don’t even have
to mean it. It’ll be like a game, you see?
I’ll do it. I promise, if you tell me I have
to. Then see, it’s not really my fault.”
“Damn it, Blake!” I yelled loudly at him
and slapped my hand against the glass.
Blake jumped and cowered back on the
other side of the shower. “So you’ll do it
if I make you? I told you I won’t force
you. I explained this to you last night. I
know your father has brainwashed you,
but you have to listen to me.” I turned
away, running my hand through my hair in
frustration. “Fuck this.” I shucked off my
clothes, grabbed a condom from the vanity
drawer and stepped into the hot water,
crowding Blake against the back wall of
the shower.
I let the water run over my face and down
my body, willing myself to relax, but it
was useless. Blake, the one I’d loved and
lusted after for so long was standing right
in front of me, his beautiful body
glistening wet and all mine if I wanted it.
Mine to hold and kiss and fuck senseless. I
touched his hip and moved closer in
toward him.
Blake‘s blushes spread down his body,
visible even through the steam of the
shower.
“Please don’t hate me anymore, Michael,”
he said softly, slipping his arms around
my neck. “I do want you to make love to
me. You wouldn’t be forcing me. I-I want
it. I want you very much.”
“Oh shit. The hell with it.” A hoarse moan
of bliss escaped my mouth as I pressed my
body against his, feeling him warm and
solid against me. I turned him so his ass
pressed into my cock and shivered with
anticipation. He laid his head back on my
shoulder and pushed himself back against
me.
“Michael…I’m sorry for what happened
between us. I want to do this, but I…”
I stood still, trying hard to catch my
breath. “Blake, I won’t do anything you
don’t want me to do. Do you want this?
Tell me or I’ll have to stop.” I turned him
around to look at me. “I’ll get out of here
and I-I’ll have someone take you home.”
“No! I do want it! I know I shouldn’t, but I
do. I want it so bad.”
“Then let me love you.”
My hands slid down his flat abs to enclose
his hard cock. I bit down on his shoulder
and smoothed my hand down his cock.
“Michael!” He leaned back even further,
trying to twist his head and reach my
mouth. I gave it to him, thrusting my tongue
inside and tasting him before I went back
to sucking on his shoulder. There would
be a bruise there tomorrow. Good, damn
it. I wanted to bruise him, to mark him as
mine.
I reached for the condom with a trembling
hand and managed to tear the wrapper. He
watched me with a steady gaze as I put it
on. “I’m going to fuck you, Blake. Fuck
you so hard, baby.”
Blake turned his head toward me, his eyes
dark and wild. “Yes, it’s what I want.
Please, Michael.”
I shoved him against the tile. He pressed
himself into the cold wall of the shower,
trying to get some friction against his dick.
“No! That belongs to me. I say when you
get to come.”
He stopped moving and kept perfectly
still. I bit down on his shoulder and his
back claiming him possessively. I pushed
down on his shoulders, and pushed his
legs apart with my knee, making him open
for me.
The sight of Blake’s little hole, all pink
and rosy made me harder than ever, and
my damned cock throbbed with need.
I grabbed a bottle of conditioner on the
tile shelf in the tub and spread some on my
fingers. Rubbed them against Blake's hole
and, I gently put one finger inside him. I
was holding on by a thread, not wanting to
hurt him, but it was getting harder and
harder not to just impale him on my dick. I
put in another finger, and Blake gasped
and cried out at the invasion as the tight
ring of his muscles clenched and then
relaxed and opened wider. His hands slid
along the tiles, trying to get a purchase. I
had one hand beneath his stomach, holding
him up but I was becoming too excited to
keep going so slowly. I pushed my fingers
in deeper, changing my angle and Blake
jerked upright as I found his prostate.
"That’s it right there, isn’t it, baby?” I
couldn’t resist teasing him. “You like that,
don’t you?”
Blake groaned, and I pressed for an
answer. “I said, don’t you?” Answer me,
Blake!”
“Y-yes, Michael. So much.”
I pushed in again, right against the spot
and Blake yelled out his pleasure.
“That felt good, didn’t it, baby? Want
more?”
Blake began to whimper softly.
“Hush baby. Tell me how it feels.” I
touched his prostate again. “Tell me,
Blake.”
“It feels so good. God help me, I love it so
much!”
I pulled my fingers out, and Blake sighed
deeply and started to stand up. I pushed
him back over and before Blake had a
chance to take in a breath, I lined my cock
up with Blake’s rosy hole and thrust in all
the way in one move. Blake let out a little
squeak as his body was taken, and his
head thrashed back. His mouth was open,
and he let out a cry as his body was
besieged.
Blake’s
narrow,
velvety
passage took hold of me, pressing hard
against every single inch of my cock as if
trying to crush me.
“Tell me how much you want this, Blake.”
“Michael…just do it. Don’t talk…”
I pulled back until I was just barely
touching his rim. He gasped and whined at
the loss.
“You’re not in charge of this. I said, tell
me how much you want it. Tell me or…”
He gasped and wiggled his ass trying to
strain backward for more contact, but I
held him where he was. He blew out his
breath in frustration, and I slapped his ass.
“What was that?”
“I want it, Michael. I want you.”
I eased my cock back inside him. “Good
boy.”
Thrusting in earnest, I wanting to own this
man, to mark him in some way. I bent over
and sucked the skin on his shoulder,
raising a welt and making him whimper.
Blake’s hand strayed down to his cock,
and I slapped it away, taking over the job
myself. In moments Blake came, jerking
his hips and alternately pushing and
pulling at me as I stood behind him. I
came a moment later, ramming my cock
home, experiencing a hot, urgent climax. I
stayed inside Blake for a few more
minutes, trying to catch my breath before I
could straighten up. Blake stayed slumped
over the tiles, breathing hard. I reached
for him and pulled him back up to rest
against me, not saying anything, not
knowing what to say.
I hadn’t meant to take him like that. I
meant to make Blake beg for it first after a
long night of teasing, but I’d totally lost
control. Afraid I might have hurt him, I put
a hand on Blake’s chest and caressed it.
“Are you okay?”
Blake nodded, his head leaning into me,
but he didn’t turn his head or meet my
gaze.
I put a knuckle under Blake’s chin and
made him turn his head toward me. “What
did we just do, Blake?”
Blake tried to shake his head, but I held
on, refusing to let him go.
“Tell me what we just did.”
“We-we fucked,” Blake said softly.
“No, we made love. Say it.”
“We made love.”
“Uh-huh. Now tell me how it felt.”
Blake squirmed and tried again to get
away, but I held him tight.
Finally, he sighed, “It felt good, Michael.
You know it felt amazing.”
“That’s right. It felt good. Do you want me
to fuck you again soon, Blake?”
“Yes,” Blake spoke so softly I had to
strain to hear.
“Good boy.” I patted Blake’s butt and
dropped a soft kiss on his neck. Smiling, I
turned off the water. “Let’s dry off and go
to bed.”
Blake sat in his underwear while hetero
porn played on the large TV in front of
him. He’d been sitting there next to me for
over thirty minutes, not looking at me, not
speaking at all. I was conducting a little
experiment of my own, and though it was
mean and I knew it, I was still trying to
figure him out. I was still trying to show
him he wasn’t heterosexual and never
would be, despite all the lies his father
had told him.
Blake glanced up at me fearfully. “You
okay?” I asked quietly.
Blake nodded, and I handed him a pair of
jeans. “Put these on, babe.” As Blake
scrambled to get into them, I stood quietly
regarding him. Pursing my lips, I said
quietly, “You know this porn was
supposed to cause you to have an erection.
You didn’t.”
Blake nodded miserably.
“And what does that mean, Blake?”
“I don’t know.” His tone was sullen, and I
knew he was angry.
“Sure you do. Tell me what it means.”
Blake shrugged. “It means it was stupid,
Michael. I don’t like porn.”
“Should I put on some gay porn and see if
you might change your mind about that?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No sir,” Blake said, sighing and casting
another resentful look at me.
“So tell me what it means if you don’t get
an erection from watching naked women.”
“You want me to say it means I’m gay.”
“You are gay, Blake.”
“If you say so, Michael.”
I glared down at him, frustrated at his
stubborn refusal in the light of day to
admit who he was.
“Michael, please tell me about Jerry. Is he
okay?”
“Of course, he’s okay, Blake. He’s staying
with another one of the counselors in
another dorm.”
“Counselor? You mean a gay man? You’re
making him stay with a gay man?”
I think Blake knew he was making me
angry, but he couldn’t stop doing it.
Maybe a part of him wanted to irritate me
and maybe drive me to take some kind of
drastic action to make him comply.
Perhaps have sex with him again.
“Yes, Blake, a gay man. The worst kind of
person on earth according to your church,
isn’t that right? An abomination. A person
who doesn’t pass Go and just goes straight
to hell. Just like me.”
He put his hand on mine. “I didn’t mean it
that way. I’m sorry. It’s just that Jerry told
me he has these feelings…he’s been
struggling very hard to bury them.”
“You mean his fascination with leather
bars? We know about that, Blake. He’s
been seen in several of them over the past
year.”
“L-leather bars?” Does that mean…?”
“Doms and subs, yes. Jerry seems to like a
little flogging action too.”
“Oh.” Blake recoiled a little and his face
turned red. “But-but he’s okay. You’re not
hurting him?”
Michael sighed. “Of course not.”
He stepped up closer to me, lowering his
lashes seductively.
“Maybe you’d like it if I went to those
bars too, Michael. To make you feel better
about what you did to me last night, what
you did to me when I was just a kid, when
you tricked me into having sex with you.”
I smiled a tight little smile at him. “So
we’re back to this again, are we?”
I put a hand around Blake’s waist to hold
him in place while I stuck the other hand
over the crotch of Blake’s jeans. “Are you
going to pretend this doesn’t bother you at
all?” I massaged Blake’s balls and his
already swollen cock through the fabric.
Blake tried to jerk away, but I tightened
my grip.
“No, big guy, you say you aren’t gay, so
prove it. This shouldn’t bother you at all.
If it doesn’t, I’ll apologize. If it does, you
get to spend an hour in the ball gag, to
remind you about that smart mouth of
yours.”
Blake tried again to wrestle away,
twisting and finally falling to the ground to
get away from me. I followed him down
never pulling away, squeezing him,
pulling Blake on top of me as he fell, so I
wouldn’t hurt him. No matter how hard
Blake wiggled and squirmed he couldn’t
dislodge my hand. Finally, he lay
exhausted, panting, on top of me, defeated,
his cock rigid under my hand.
I chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby, it won’t
be so bad. The gag will stretch your mouth
nice and wide for my dick. While we’re at
it, maybe I’ll find a nice plug for that
sweet little ass. Get you ready for
tonight.” I released him and stood up,
reaching a hand down to help him stand.
Instead, Blake hurled himself against the
wall, moaning. “No, no, please, I won’t
do it anymore. Don’t do it, please!”
“Stop it, Blake, what’s the matter with
you? I was only teasing.”
Blake continued to groan as if he hadn’t
heard me. “I won’t do it anymore!”
Alarmed, I bent to touch his arm, but
Blake pulled away wildly, shaking all
over.
“Blake,” I said in a soft voice. “I’m not
going to hurt you. I was only playing
around, okay, honey? Blake?” I knelt
down next to him and put a hand on his
shoulder. “I’d never do anything to hurt
you.”
Blake turned to me with his eyes dark and
stormy. He was gazing up at me, but I
don’t think he saw me at all. Instead he
looked me in the eye and said, “Daddy,
please. Please don’t do this.”
Chapter 7
Michael
“Get dressed.”
“In what? You took away my clothes.”
I handed him a pink t-shirt with the FAB
logo on it and a pair of skin tight jeans.
“Put these on, without underwear. I’d like
to look at your cock in tight jeans.”
It was the next day after the incident in the
lab where Blake had scared the shit out of
me with his strange reaction. It had taken
me almost twenty minutes to calm him
down and get him back to the room. I left
him on the bed while I went to the
infirmary and got the doctor to give him a
sedative. Coming back in the room, Blake
had turned a worried face to me.
“Michael, I’ll apologize if it will help, but
please don’t put that gag on me again.”
“I’m not going to, Blake. I was only
teasing and it got out of hand. I apologize,
but I am going to insist you take this. It’s a
sedative.”
“No, please. No drugs.”
“Open your mouth and take it, Blake,
please. You got too upset, and you need to
rest. It’s only a mild sedative. I promise.
And I promise I’ll stay here with you till
you go to sleep.”
Blake bit his lip and then opened his
mouth dutifully so I could give him the
Valium. He drank some water and lay
back down on the bed. I pulled a blanket
over him and held his hand till he fell
asleep. He slept well all night, and by
morning, he didn’t even remember what
happened. That might have alarmed me
more than anything else.
I’d made an appointment for him to see the
psychologist-slash-psychology-grad
student first thing. No way was this going
to continue if the guy thought there was
any possibility of danger to him
psychologically or emotionally. If I
needed to, I’d take him out of there as
soon as I could arrange it.
“Go on, put on the jeans. You’ll look good
in the pink shirt, baby. Matches those
pretty lips.”
Blake flushed angrily, but put the clothes
on.
I looked at him appreciatively. “Nice butt
in those jeans.” I pinched him lightly on
the ass. “C’mon, let’s go.”
I took his hand as we walked out onto the
campus, and I think Blake figured I did it
just to embarrass him. Actually it was
because I couldn’t seem to let go of him
this morning. Several of the young men
from the class were in the yard. A couple
of them sneered at him as we passed. One
of them called out, “Love the shirt, Blake.
You look good in pink.” I heard several
boys laugh at Blake and saw his face
growing pinker.
One of the young men stood by a big tree
in the yard and rubbed his cock with his
hand as Blake passed. “I wouldn’t mind
having some of that,” he called out. “When
you get through with him, Michael, don’t
forget to pass him around.” The yard
erupted into laughter, and Blake stumbled
a little and looked over at me. I looked
down at Blake and shrugged. They were
being rude, but it was harmless, mostly.
They were just blowing off steam, and I
thought they needed it after what they’d
been through.
Blake acted like he wanted to stay outside
in the sunlight for a few minutes, and he
pulled against my hand. I just frowned and
released his hand only to grab him by the
arm and haul him across the yard. He
needed to see this guy so I could make a
decision about taking him home. I led him
into the Admin building and down a long
hallway. At the end of the hall was a glass
door, and Blake pulled back again.
“If this is a doctor, I don’t need one,” he
said.
I looked down at him with amusement.
“Honey, if anybody ever needed a
psychologist, it’s you, but he’s not a
doctor. He’s just a grad student. C’mon,” I
said, and led him into the office.
A short, dark young man sat at a desk
inside and smiled at us as we walked in.
“Hello, Blake,” he said. “I’m Gordon.”
Blake looked up at me with something
close to panic. “I don’t need a doctor.” He
tried to wrench his arm from me. “I don’t
need this!” he yelled. His breathing was
coming faster and faster, and his eyes
looked almost wild with fear. Alarmed, I
drew him into my arms.
“Hey, it’s all right, honey. Calm down.” I
held him tightly for a few minutes, truly
alarmed and concerned about his reaction.
This whole thing had started out as
revenge for me, but I was increasingly
worried at the way Blake seemed to be
deteriorating. Blake buried his face
against my chest, murmuring. “Please,
please take me out of here, Michael. You
said you’d try to forgive me for what I did
to you. Don’t do this to me now. I’m
begging you.”
I pulled away and looked into his eyes.
“Blake, I’m not trying to hurt you. Do you
believe me?”
Blake nodded slowly.
“I know I’ve been teasing you, but I’d
never do anything that would really harm
you. Gordon only wants to talk to you.”
“I-I’ve been to doctors before,” Blake
whispered. “My father sent me. I know
what they do! They gave me injections and
tied me to a bed and gave me shocks.
Please. I’ll do whatever you say. Just
don’t do this to me.”
“Hey,” I said, tears springing to my eyes
as I tried not to show how horrified and
angry I felt. “Would I let anybody hurt
you?”
Blake looked up at him suspiciously.
“You tied me to the bed. You made me
watch those porn films. You made me eat
egg salad.”
I smiled. “I’m sorry, honey. That was
wrong of me, I’ll admit. But I would never
let anybody inject you with something or
give you shocks. You know that, right?”
Blake nodded hesitantly. “Okay, I’ll take
care of you, I promise. Now turn around
and meet Gordon.”
Blake turned and shook his hand, not
meeting his eyes.
“All I’m going to do is talk to you, Blake.
Is that okay?” Gordon asked.
Blake nodded but held on tightly to my
hand. “Can Michael stay with me?”
Gordon looked up at me, and he nodded.
“Sure,
if
that
makes
you
more
comfortable, but I assure you I won’t harm
you in any way. Michael can sit right
outside the door and come in if you call
him. That way if we want to talk about
him, we can.” He smiled and Blake
smiled back, shooting a glance over at me.
I went outside and waited, reading a
magazine and half expecting Blake to call
for me in a minute or two. Nothing
happened though, and a half-hour later,
Blake opened the door and came outside.
“He wants to talk to you now, Michael,”
he said. He seemed much calmer and
quieter.
I stood up and motioned for Blake to sit
down. “I don’t have to tell you that I’d be
very angry to come out and find you gone,
do I?”
Blake shook his head. “I won’t go
anywhere.” He looked up at me and for
the first time since we’d reconnected, a
hint of the old Blake peeked from his face.
“I promise.”
I couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on his
forehead and squeezing his hand. “Wait
for me, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.” I
turned and went inside the office.
Gordon motioned for me to sit down and
hit me with it right away. “I think we have
a serious problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that someone has abused that
young man. The abuse was severe and
went on for a long time. Not just
physically, though I suspect that strongly
too, but mentally and emotionally.”
Gordon got up and paced up and down the
length of his office. He turned now to look
at me. “He’s a very strong person,
Michael. If he weren’t he would have
never stood up to the kind of abuse he’s
gone through.”
“What?” I was shocked, and he glanced
uneasily over his shoulder at the door.
“I know what you and your group are
trying to do, and you know I support it,
and that’s why I’m here. But I’m in way
over my head here, and this is nothing to
fool around with. You must immediately
stop everything with Blake. He seems to
think a great deal of you, and trust you, so
that’s key. You need to be very careful
with him.”
“Or what will happen?” I could hear the
shakiness in my own voice.
“To be honest, I don’t know. There’s been
some major trauma that he either doesn’t
want to talk about, or it’s hidden so
deeply even he isn’t aware of what it is.
When it does come out, I don’t know what
could happen. What kind of monster
raised him?”
“His pyscho father, that’s who,” I said
angrily, barely able to keep my voice
level. My heart turned over in my chest.
Why hadn’t I put him in my car and made
him go away with me six years ago? Had I
just abandoned him to more abuse from
that psychotic asshole of a father of his? I
practically ran over to the door and pulled
it open. I needed to see that he was okay.
He looked up in surprise and gave me a
sweet smile.
“I’m still here, Michael. I won’t leave
you.”
“I-I know, baby. I was just checking on
you.”
I closed the door quietly and turned back
around. Taking a deep breath to steady
myself, I asked, “What the fuck do I do
now?”
“I’m simply not qualified to talk to him,
Michael. I could harm him somehow, and
I can’t take the risk.”
I nodded. “Of course. I understand, and I
appreciate it. I have to take him home.”
The grad student shrugged. “I don’t know.
He needs treatment from a qualified
professional. But I’d be hesitant to take
him back to that father of his.” Gordon
looked at him thoughtfully. “He’s in love
with you. You do know that?”
I ran my hand through my hair. “I guess
so.”
“The question is, are you in love with
him? Think about it carefully, Michael.
You can’t toy with this boy’s feelings.
He’s too fragile.”
“Yeah, damn it, I guess I am.”
The psychologist raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, I know I am, but now what? If he’s
this fucked up...”
“I was thinking about what you told me
happened the other day when he called
you his father. I don’t think Blake’s had
any kind of real dissociative break yet. No
more than a slip or two. You might have
actually saved him from a total break by
bringing him out of that poisonous
environment, because if he keeps on this
way, I think that’s where he’s headed. But
then I don’t feel confident enough to speak
about it really. He needs a psychiatrist, I
think. It’s important to help him heal,
because frankly, I don’t know how much
longer he can go on like he has been.”
I nodded, still in shock. Then a couple of
the words he said sank in. “Dissociative
break?”
Gordon nodded, “You haven’t noticed
anything else that he’s said that was odd,
have you? Has he made any strange
requests of you?”
“Well, he told me I had to make him have
sex with me. That if I told him he had to
then it would be okay.”
“And you replied?”
“I told him hell no, I’m not a rapist.” I
said with a blush. “We did make love, but
it wasn’t a rape. I didn’t touch him until he
told me he wanted it.”
Gordon nodded. “I see. It could be he’s
used to taking orders, and it comforts him.
It also takes away his guilt. If he’s not in
control, then it’s not his fault. The
emotions and needs he has are no longer
his responsibility.”
“Damn it.”
“Look, I’m not sure yet, but I think that’s
what’s going on. That’s just it, I don’t feel
comfortable with any of this. You need to
take him to a good psychiatrist if you can
manage to talk him into it. When I
suggested it, he started to freak out again.
But in the meantime, please, no trauma or
confrontation.”
I nodded and went to the door. “You got
it. I’ll do my best, doc.”
“You mean a lot to him. You must be
doing something right already, because
he’s responding to you. Keep it up. Just be
yourself—that’s obviously who he’s in
love with. But no pressure, right? Give it
some
time.
Give him some time.
Remember all bets are off with this kid
until you can get him some real attention
by a qualified doctor.” He hesitated and
then blushed a bit. “Not to get too
personal, but do you boss him around a
little in bed?”
It was my turn to get red. “Yeah,
sometimes. Why, is that bad? I don’t want
to do anything that might hurt him. I’ll stop
it, okay?”
“No, I don’t think so. Domination can be a
great stress reliever. Many people in high
powered jobs love to submit to a someone
stronger, more dominant. It takes away
some of their stress for a while. That
might be why he’s responding so well to
you. For now, just keep on the way you
have been in a mild way and if he seems
stressed, then back off immediately.
That’s the best advice I can give you.
That, and get him to a qualified doctor as
soon as you can.”
I nodded and went outside the guy’s office
feeling shaken. Blake was still sitting
quietly, leafing through a magazine as he
came out the door. I walked up to him and
took his hand. I just wanted to touch him.
“C’mon baby, let’s get out of here.”
He blushed immediately. “Why do you
blush like that whenever I touch you or
call you baby?”
Blake wouldn’t look at him. He shrugged.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“What is?”
“Holding hands with me in public. Men
don’t do that.”
“Yeah, who says?” I pulled him into my
arms and kissed him.
“I know you’re trying to humiliate me, but
please...”
I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong. I’m
not trying to humiliate you. I love you,
sweetheart. I’m trying to show you how
much you mean to me.”
Blake caught his breath and looked up into
my eyes. “Really? You-you love me?” he
asked shyly.
“Yes, really. I love you, and I want to
touch you, and I want you to touch me.
Okay?”
“I-I can’t.”
“I want you to. Will you do it for me?”
Surprise and understanding dawned on
Blake’s face. “I will.”
“So kiss me, sweetheart.”
Blake looked around, guilt written on his
features.
“No one is here to see you. They wouldn’t
matter if they were here. I’m the only one
you ever have to worry about. I won’t
embarrass you anymore, but kiss me.”
Unbending, I stared down at him. Blake
put his hands on my shoulders, giving me
the briefest of touches to the lips.
“I think I once taught you better than that,”
I said gruffly.
Blake smiled and threw both arms around
my neck, making me bend my head. He put
his tongue tentatively at first into my
mouth and then more aggressively, tasting
me and running his tongue over my lips
and mouth until both of us were a little out
of breath.
“How’s that?” Blake asked with a
flirtatious look.
“Getting there, baby. Definitely getting
there.”
I put my arm around Blake’s waist and we
walked out into the courtyard. Several
boys were there, eating lunch, and Blake
pulled back, reluctant to hear their jibes. I
stepped out in front of him.
I waited until all their eyes were on me,
and the catcalls died down. “Okay guys,
this ends here and now. I allowed a little
ribbing this morning, and I shouldn’t have.
It’s time to stop. Blake is just as much a
victim as you guys. How would you like
to grow up gay with a father like his? Can
you even imagine?”
He waited to let that last sentence really
sink in and several of the boys looked
away, unable to meet his gaze. “This place
is about love and acceptance, not hatred
and bigotry. Let’s see if we can’t practice
a little, okay?”
The boys nodded and a few called out,
“Sorry, Blake.”
I took his arm and led him over to a table
on the outside of the group.
“Thanks, Michael.” Blake ducked his head
shyly, a blush still staining his cheeks.
The sunshine felt good on my skin and
Blake had a dreamy kind of look on his
face. “What are you thinking about?” I
asked.
“Oh, just back when we were at the camp
and we used to get away from the other
guys and go down to the stream and skinny
dip. Then we’d lie on the bank and let the
sun dry us off. That was a wonderful
time.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? There’s a
stream and a waterfall not far from here.
Let’s hike to it.”
Blake looked puzzled. “We can do that?”
“Why not? Since it’ll be private there, I
can give you more lessons on how you can
please me. Sound good?”
Blake smiled and nodded.
“C’mon, then. I’ll go get some sandwiches
and water, and you go put on some hiking
boots. You’ll find some in your closet.”
“How’d you know my size?”
“I remember everything about you. Relax
and let me handle things. Go put the boots
on, and I’ll be in to get you in a few
minutes.”
I squeezed his hand and gave him a little
smile before walking into the kitchen and
getting the guys working there to make me
up a few sandwiches and wrap up some
slices of cake. I grabbed a few water
bottles from the cooler and headed back to
our room. Blake was sitting on the side of
his bed, wearing the hiking boots. He
looked expectant and almost a little happy.
I smiled at him and pulled on my boots.
“Grab a backpack out of my locker, and
put this stuff inside. It’s at least a three
mile hike up to the falls, uphill. Are you
sure you’re up for it?”
Blake nodded. “I’m sure.”
As we went toward the door, I stopped
him and turned him around to pull him into
my arms. “When we get there, maybe we
can go skinny dipping like in the old
days.”
“Uh-huh. And you can make love to me,
just like back then?” Blake looked down,
then back up through his lashes and smiled
shyly at me.
The smile went straight to my cock.
Blake spoke softly. “Well, what are we
waiting for? Let’s go.”
Chapter 8
Michael
The stream sparkled in the sunlight and
made a clean, babbling sound as it spilled
over
the
rocks.
Blake
had
been
complaining of the heat all the way up the
mountain, and when we arrived he
plopped to the ground, panting heavily. He
looked back over his shoulder at me,
coming up behind him.
“It’s beautiful here, Michael. So private
and cool and green.”
“What are you doing there on the bank?
Get your clothes off. ”
Blake glanced back over at me and
narrowed his eyes. A mutinous expression
came over his face, and he crossed his
arms over his chest. “I’ll get them off
when I rest a minute. Give me a chance.”
I took a deep breath. Okay, what the hell
was that about? I was only teasing really,
but I wondered about the attitude. I had an
idea Blake might be testing me to see if I
was strong enough to be in control. On the
other hand, it kind of thrilled me to hear
Blake talking back and being feisty.
I reached down and grabbed him by the
straps of his backpack, yanking him to his
feet. Blake turned a shocked face toward
me and tried ineffectually to jerk away.
“Stop! What are you doing?”
I turned him around abruptly and held him
by the shirt front. I leaned down into his
face. “Getting ready to throw you in. Want
a chance to take your clothes off first?”
Blake turned his face away and pressed
his lips tightly together, not resisting, but
keeping the sulky, annoyed expression on
his face.
“Hmm?”
Blake took a couple of heavy breaths, his
chest heaving with emotion. I shook him
again.
“Yes, all right!”
“Well, get to it, babe.”
I kept my hold on Blake by the shirt front
and made him try to take off his clothes
while I held to him tightly. It meant he had
to use his feet to push his pants legs down
and then step out of them, and when he got
to his shirt, he hesitated, looking up into
my face. “Uh…I…you have to let me go
before I can take off the shirt.”
“Ask me properly.”
“Michael, please take your hands off me
so I can take off my shirt.”
“Mmm. No, not good enough. Maybe if
you give me a kiss first?”
Blake blushed, but smiled shyly and
reached up on tiptoe to brush his lips
against mine.
I let him go, and he quickly skimmed the
shirt over his head. I glanced down to see
Blake’s cock standing up hard and stiff in
front of him.
I patted his ass. “In you go!”
Blake turned and stepped gingerly into the
icy water. He looked back up at me in
mute appeal. I hid a smile and pointed a
finger firmly. “Go.”
Blake lowered himself in the icy water
and immediately began to wince and
whine. “It’s cold!” He jumped to his feet
and started to climb out.
I put a hand on his chest and pushed him
back. “You bitched all the way up the
mountain about how hot it is. Now get in
and cool off.”
“Michael, please, I want to get out. Please
give me your hand!”
I relented and held out a hand to him, but
instead of climbing out, he grabbed my
hand tightly and pulled me in with him,
laughing at the look on my face as I came
up for air sputtering and spitting out water.
I laughed too, happy to see Blake enjoying
himself without the constant worried
expression on his face.
Blake and I helped each other to climb
out, still laughing and Blake fell down on
the bank to dry in the sun. Taking off my
shirt and pants and spreading them to dry
on a nearby rock, I stood over Blake
looking down.
“You’re gorgeous, you know.”
“No,” Blake said, shaking his head. “I’m
too skinny. My father said…”
“Are you saying my judgment is not as
good as your father’s?”
“No.”
“Then don’t dispute my word. You’re
beautiful. Get used to it.”
Blake ducked his head and smiled.
“I promised to give you lessons on how to
please me. Are you ready for your first
lesson?”
Blake nodded nervously.
“Get up and come over here.”
Blake scrambled up off the bank and
tentatively got on his knees between my
ankles. I slowly shimmied out of my wet
underwear, grown even tighter with the
massive hard I sported from seeing Blake
naked. He was leaking pre-cum, and I
used the moisture to slick his shaft.
“Stroke yourself.” His eyes grew wider,
but he did as I asked.
“Would you like to suck me, Blake?”
Blake’s eyes grew round. He licked his
lips and nodded hesitantly. “Yes. But I
don’t think I can do that.”
“Oh, but you can. In fact, I insist.”
Blake leaned toward me, his lips parted.
His expression showed confusion and
conflict, and I knew how much he wanted
to comply. I reached for him and pulled
his mouth down to my cock. “Suck me,
sweetheart.”
So close to the object of his desire, Blake
sighed and closed his eyes. Seeming to
make a sudden decision, he opened his
lips wider and slid his warm mouth over
me.
Though
he
was
obviously
inexperienced, he made up for it in
enthusiasm. At first Blake sucked lightly,
but when I started to grind my hips and
groan, he slid down further, alternating
between sucking and licking at the tip.
For me, it certainly wasn’t the best blow
job I ever had, but this was Blake’s sweet
mouth on me and Blake’s little pink tongue
flicking around and tasting my pre-cum,
moaning like he was enjoying every
moment of it. That made it the best I’d
ever had. He got bolder and bolder as he
went on until I thought I couldn’t hold it a
second longer. Then he looked right up
into my eyes and smiled before he took me
in his hand and licked me up my shaft like
a popsicle and slurped the head.
I came so hard I thought my eyes would
pop out of my head. Blake surprised me
by sucking the creamy cum right down his
throat. He looked up finally with a shy
smile on his gorgeous face, and I pulled
him up into my arms and kissed him until
we both were breathless and trembling. I
lay back on the grass, pulling Blake down
on top of me. I couldn’t help but know
how rock hard Blake remained and
decided to do something about that just as
soon as I recovered a bit. Meanwhile,
Blake said nothing, but rubbed himself
against my body sensuously, still breathing
hard and obviously uncomfortable.
“Do you want to come, baby?”
“No, I can’t. I can’t do that.”
I sat up, rolling Blake’s body gently off
into the grass beside me. “Don’t say that,
baby. You can if you want to, and you
will.”
Blake lowered his gaze. He looked up at
me from under his thick lashes. His voice
dropped to a seductive drawl. “Are you
gonna make me?”
I smiled at him “Do you want me to?”
He looked off in the distance. “One of the
boys in our program had a magazine with
him once. It showed a man getting a-a
spanking. A grown man! I was shocked at
first, but…he seemed to be enjoying it,
and I-I’ve thought about it a lot ever since.
I wonder how that would feel?”
“Oh?” I was a little uneasy about how this
was going. I had no desire to hit any part
of Blake, but I had to admit the idea was
making me hard.
“I just might need a spanking for being a
smart ass.” He cocked his head to look at
me. “Do you think?”
I pulled Blake over to make him lie face
down across my lap. He was still naked
and I could feel his hard erection against
my thighs. I started out by caressing and
kneading the round cheeks of his ass,
before slapping them lightly—just love
taps, really, that couldn’t possibly hurt
him. I felt like he’d been hurt enough and I
couldn’t bear it. Blake groaned and
struggled
to
get
away,
but
only
halfheartedly. I held him down easily with
a hand in the small of his back. I wet two
of my fingers, and put them gently up
Blake’s hole, moving them slowly in and
out.
Blake squealed and tried so hard to get up
it was all I could do to hold him down. I
stuck my fingers further up inside and
found Blake’s prostate, massaging it
gently with my fingers. Blake stiffened and
then bucked his hips wildly, yelling out
his pleasure. His hot, sticky cum spilled
out onto my lap until I turned him over and
used my hand to pump him till the last
drop spurted across my hand.
Blake lay back on my lap bonelessly. He
looked up at me dazedly. “What is that?
You touched it before, and I was
embarrassed to ask, but it feels so
wonderful.”
I caressed his cheek. “That’s your
prostate, baby. Feels good, huh?”
“Oh yes!”
I laughed. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”
Blake scrambled up and followed me into
the water. He kept his distance though, and
when I finished splashing in the icy cold
water, I moved back up to the bank and
lay down. Blake moved up and sat beside
me. I angled a look at him and saw that he
was looking pensively at the stream. I
wondered if I’d gone too far with this
thing. I lay on my side quietly trying to
decide what to say to Blake when he
suddenly turned to me.
“I guess if I don’t do what you tell me to
while I’m here at the camp, you’ll order
me to make love to you every day, right? I
mean, if I get smart with you, or
whatever?”
“Making love is not a punishment, Blake.
It will be something we do together
because we want to pleasure each other.
It’s not dirty, or bad, or sinful in any
way.”
“Oh.”
Sensing that wasn’t quite the answer
Blake was looking for, I stretched lazily.
“Of course, if you’re bad, as you say, I
might have to spank you a little, like I just
did.”
Blake blushed red all over.
“Or maybe make you stand in the corner
naked for me and forbid you to come as I
make you watch me jack off. I’d put a
cock ring on you to make sure you didn’t
come, no matter how much you’d want
to.”
Blake blushed, his breathing getting harder
and his eyes downcast.
He put out his hand nervously and
clutched at my thigh, as if seeking comfort.
I turned to him, pushing him down on his
back and lying half on top of him. “But
that’s only if you don’t listen to me and try
hard to do as I say. If you do, if you’re a
good boy, I’ll be doing this a lot.” I
lowered my mouth to Blake’s and slid my
tongue inside his lips, tasting him and
teasing his tongue. I reached down to
fondle Blake’s balls with my free hand,
enjoying Blake’s soft moans of pleasure.
“Do you know what submission is, baby?
It’s giving up control to a person you trust
to take care of you, a person you know
will always do the right thing for you, and
never hurt you. Well, maybe a little
spanking now and then, if you’re very
bad.”
Blake squirmed again, but smiled as he
cast his eyes down.
I put a knuckle under his chin to raise his
head back up and looked down into
Blake’s beautiful eyes. “I’ll make love to
you for hours, and when I finally let you
go to sleep, it will only be wrapped up
tightly in my arms, your sweet cock
between my thighs.”
“Michael,” Blake blushed and hid his
head against my shoulder. “That sounds
so…it’s too good to ever be true.”
“Get up on your hands and knees, baby.
I’m going to show you it’s true.”
Trembling,
Blake
obeyed,
looking
nervously over his shoulder at me. I
rubbed my cock slowly over Blake’s
sweet hole, grabbing a condom and some
lubricant out of my backpack. I put on the
condom and with two fingers I rubbed
gently against Blake. Alternating between
my fingers and my cock, I took my time
until Blake was trembling and whimpering
softly.
“Please, Michael, please.”
I fit the tip of my cock inside Blake’s rim,
teasing it in and out. Slowly I pushed the
entire length of my shaft inside. Blake
gasped and tried to pull away.
“Push back against me, baby. Relax.”
Blake did as he was told and slowly I
moved in and out in a sensuous rhythm, my
balls gently touching Blake’s ass as I
made the downward stroke.
“Spread your legs a little, baby, and let
me in. That’s right.”
I knew when I found Blake’s prostate
again, because Blake started to moan and
moved around impatiently, wiggling his
ass and trying to hold it up higher. I
laughed softly. “Right there, baby? Is that
where you want it?”
“Yes, please,” Blake groaned, wiggling
harder.
I slapped his ass lightly. “Stay still, baby.
You’re making me....oh God!”
I climaxed, driving harder and harder into
Blake, slapping my balls against his ass
and then holding tight, pumping into his
sweet little ass. I collapsed on top of him
and lay there still deep inside, not wanting
to pull out just yet, enjoying the feel of
Blake’s butt against my groin. When I
finally caught my breath, I pulled away a
little and rolled Blake over on his back.
Blake gazed up at me sweetly, and I
groaned and kissed him again.
“You’re mine, Blake. Understand? You’ve
been mine since you were eighteen years
old, and I never should have let you go. I
should have spanked your ass that day and
put you in my car and dared that son-of-a-
bitch to come after you.”
At the mention of his father, Blake bit his
lip and turned his head. I pulled it back.
“No, don’t you look away from me. From
now on you belong to me, and I’ll never
let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Blake shook his head. “You can’t stop
him, Michael. You think you can, but he’s
so...”
“Listen to me, Blake. I’m not frightened of
him, and if he tries to hurt you, he’ll be
very sorry. I’m taking you far away from
that bastard and his fucked up brand of so-
called religion, so you’ll never have to
see him again if you don’t want to.”
“Really? Do you mean it?” Blake’s voice
was soft, but his eyes were shining at me.
“Look at me, baby, because I’ve never
been more serious. I’m not losing you
again.”
“Anything you say, Michael.”
“Damn right.” I took Blake’s mouth again,
kissing his already swollen lips again and
again. I pulled him into my arms, and we
lay together on the bank of the stream and
slept in the cool mountain air.
Chapter 9
Michael
The next day, after I left Blake reading in
our room, I went to speak to Chad.
“Hey, Mike, how’s it going with young
Mr. Lewis?”
“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you
about, Chad. All bets are off with Blake.
He talked with the psychology student
yesterday, and Gordon is worried about
him. He thinks he’s uncovered some kind
of abuse, really bad shit. He says it’s
dangerous to mess around with him in his
condition. I won’t allow anyone to hurt
him anymore, Chad, so it’s all off.”
“Well, no, of course we’ll do as Gordon
recommends. What kind of abuse, did he
say?”
“No idea, but I can only imagine it’s bad
with that psycho son-of-a-bitch for a
father.”
“Sounds like you’re getting pretty close to
the kid. If you could get him to confide in
you...”
“No way. I won’t use him, even to get
back at Lewis. He’s too fragile.”
Chad regarded me solemnly. “Are you in
love with him?”
“Yes. I wasn’t totally honest with you,
Chad. I’ve known Blake a long time.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really, and I’m not going to get into
it with you, so get that look off your face.
Let’s just say I’ve been in love with him
for years and leave it at that for now. I
need to get him out of the country—far
away from the influence of his father. I
need you to help me get his birth
certificate so I can get him a passport.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am. Can you help?”
“Well, sure, I guess so. Where was he
born? I can contact the county he was born
in and request a copy online.”
“I’m not sure—I think he’s from here in
Georgia, but I’ll have to check with him
and let you know.”
“Okay, as soon as you get me the
information, I’ll get it handled for you. I’m
sorry about Blake, Michael. I promise you
I had no idea.”
“No, I don’t think anybody did.”
“Well, at least Jerry Todd is about ready
to speak on our behalf. Bill says he’s got
him eating out of his hand. Brilliant idea I
had to get a real Dom on board, if I do say
so myself. I had no idea he’d come in so
handy when Blake and Jerry delivered
themselves to us.” He laughed. “He’s
worked wonders on Jerry Todd’s little
closet submissive heart. Funny thing is,
he’s actually fallen for the guy. He’s
gotten very possessive and protective of
him. Our plan is to take Jerry and Blake to
the next tent revival old man Lewis has
planned for next Sunday night. We can’t
take Blake now, of course. Can we?”
I growled at him impatiently. “Of course
not!”
“Yeah, well, like I said, we’ll take Jerry
and hide him in the back. Then when the
old man gets really going good about
homosexuality and starts spewing out his
crap, Bill will stand up with Jerry and
take him right up on stage. Once
everybody realizes who he is, Bill will
kiss him or something right there. With any
luck, Lewis will have a stroke and solve a
lot of our problems.” Chad laughed at his
own joke.
I raised one eyebrow. “I know you’re
kidding, but it would solve a few
problems for me too. The exposure should
be humiliating enough.”
“Maybe enough to run him out of the state.
We’ll have the newspaper folks there too,
and of course, you’ll be there taking
pictures.”
“Sounds good. There’s no way Blake is
going, though. I want him kept out of this
whole thing. I may need someone to watch
him while I’m gone next Sunday.”
“Watch him? He can’t be left alone?
Damn, if he’s that messed up...”
“He’s not ‘messed up.’ He just needs
some space and time away from his father.
And right now he’s in a vulnerable state.
Let me take care of things, Chad. I know
what to do. As soon as we get the hell out
of here and away from that madman, I’ll
get him the best help available.”
“Whatever you say, man. Just get me the
information, and I’ll get his birth
certificate.”
“I’m pretty sure he was born and raised in
north Georgia, around Gainesville. I’ll
check for sure.”
“Well, I wish you two the best, I hope
you’ll be happy.”
I was silent for a moment, studying my
shoes. I looked up and said softly, “I hope
so too, Chad. I hope so too.”
Blake sat quietly reading a magazine on
the picnic tables outside. lt was a
beautiful day, and the breeze blowing
through the yard was cool and soft against
his skin. He kept stealing glances up from
his magazine, hoping to catch a glimpse of
Michael coming back for him. He closed
his
eyes
and
thought
about
their
lovemaking the night before. It had been
everything he’d been dreaming about all
these years and more. And every time he
felt guilty or the bad thoughts came into
his head, he sang a little song to himself
his mother taught him long ago. Yes, Jesus
loves me, yes Jesus loves me....
It was a child’s song, but it still made him
feel better right away, and then he went
and found Michael to talk to him about
things. Michael gave him books to read
and talked to him about his feelings. He
always felt better when he was with him.
Gordon had been talking to him too, or
listening really, letting him talk out all his
feelings. He hoped he had more time
before his father found him. He still
thought he might find him any day now.
The idea gave him a cold chill up his
spine, but he felt stronger with Michael
beside him. He thought he could finally
face up to his father if Michael stood with
him. Well, maybe. He shook his head,
dispelling the image of his father, and
when he looked back up, Michael was
striding toward him.
“Hey, baby. What’s going on?” Michael
slid onto the seat beside him and Blake
leaned into him, as always comforted by
his closeness.
“Not much. Just reading a magazine and
waiting for you.”
Michael grinned and took his lips in a
brief, sweet kiss.
“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear. I came
to ask you a question, though. Blake, are
you sure you were born in Gainesville,
Georgia? We’re having trouble locating
birth records for you in that county.”
“That’s what I’ve always been told,”
Blake shrugged. “I started elementary
school there too, in kindergarten.”
“Well, that’s the thing. The elementary
school doesn’t have a record of you
either. You don’t show up on any school
records until the seventh grade when you
moved to Atlanta.”
“That’s crazy. I went to school there for at
least a couple of years before my dad
pulled me out to home school me, right
after my mother passed away. I was there
in kindergarten and in first grade.”
“Here’s the thing, honey. There is no
record of a Blake Lewis. There is,
however, a record in the local elementary
school of a boy named Tyler Ashley. He
has your same birthday, January fifth. He
also was withdrawn after first grade to be
home schooled and never came back. Do
you remember him?”
“Tyler Ashley?” The name made his
stomach hurt, but he wasn’t sure why.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Blake, when did your mother pass
away?”
“My mother?” Blake echoed. “I, uh, I
don’t remember exactly. I must have been
pretty young—probably when I was about
three or four.”
“You just said your dad pulled you out in
first grade right after your mother passed
away. That would make you about six or
seven.”
“Oh. Well, maybe. I don’t know.”
“Where is she buried, Blake?”
“Buried? Um, I don’t know exactly.”
Michael took his hand gently, turning it
over in his and bringing it to his lips to
kiss his palm. “That’s a little odd, Blake.
Your father never took you to the
cemetery?”
Blake was beginning to get very
uncomfortable. This was a subject that
could never be discussed. Not ever. He
squirmed and shifted in his seat, lowering
his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He tried to pull his hand away, but
Michael wouldn’t release it.
“Settle down, honey. I’m right here, and
nothing is going to happen to you. Are you
okay?”
Blake looked up into his eyes. Blake’s
own eyes were a bit defiant. “I’m fine. I
just can’t talk about this.”
Michael pulled him into his arms. “All
right, baby. We don’t have to talk about it
now, but I want you to think about it some,
okay? Think about where she might be
buried. Think about the boy named Tyler
Ashley. When you’re ready, we’ll talk
some more about it.”
Blake jerked away and stood up, shouting
at him. “I can’t talk about it! I won’t “get
ready” so leave me alone!”
“Sit down, Blake. “ Michael’s voice
wasn’t loud, but it was firm and serious.
He had that stern look on his face, and
Blake clenched his fists. He sat back
down obediently though, nervous about
disobeying when Michael had that look.
He wasn’t afraid of Michael—not at all,
but he hated to have him disappointed in
him. Michael didn’t like it when Blake got
like this. Michael sat quietly, while Blake
wondered what he could be thinking. He
got up his nerve and raised his head.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to raise
my voice.”
Michael stared back at him with no trace
of anger on his face. Finally he spoke.
“Blake, I asked you to do something.”
Blake squirmed miserably. “I wouldn’t
ask you to do this if it wasn’t important.”
“I know.”
“If things are difficult for you, what did
Gordon tell you to do?”
“To talk to you about it, because I trust
you.”
“And if it gets hard to talk about?”
“To just try to keep on talking through it.
Better out in the open than kept bottled up
inside, he said.”
“That’s what I’m asking you to do then.
Not right now if you don’t want to, but
soon. We need your birth certificate, and I
can’t locate one for you. Now I have one
more question I want you to think about.
Are you ready for it?”
Blake nodded.
“Okay, I just want you to consider the idea
that maybe your mother left your father.
That she’s not really dead at all. No death
certificate could be found for her either,
honey, not in Gainesville, nor in Atlanta.
Nowhere in the state, as a matter of fact.”
“No, no, my mother would never have left
me. She loved me!”
“All right. Don’t get excited. I’m sure
there’s an answer we just haven’t found
yet. I don’t want you to get all excited and
worried, understand? That’s an order,
Blake. No worries.”
“Okay, but I’m not worried.”
“Good. Just in case, I’ll try to find a way
to take your mind off things tonight.”
Blake blushed and ducked his head again.
Michael put a knuckle under his chin to
raise his head. “What should we do first,
babe?”
Blake smiled and moved around a little as
his
crotch
tightened.
“I...you’re
embarrassing me.”
Michael laughed and pulled him over for a
kiss, making him blush even more. “Read
your magazine, honey, and wait for me.
I’ve got to talk to the people in the office
for a few minutes and I’ll be back. Think
about what games you might want to play
tonight.” Michael laughed again as Blake
playfully swung at him.
Michael
I went inside to talk to Chad, and found
him sitting at the computer.
“He doesn’t know anything, Chad. Either
that or he’s not talking. But I have a
feeling that something pretty awful might
have happened to him as a small kid. He
might have pushed it down so far he
doesn’t even remember it.”
“Well, what do you think it could have
been?”
“Hell if I know. He says his mother died,
but he has no idea where she’s buried. I
find that odd, to say the least. And he
swore his mother would never have left
him willingly.”
“You think the old man may have stolen
him away from the mother?”
“Could be. A boy named Tyler Ashley
keeps turning up when I do a search on his
birthday at that county hospital, and the
same boy was there at the elementary
school until the end of first grade. Then he
drops out of sight. That’s when the whole
damn family disappears. The mother was
listed as Julia, and the father as Edward.
The records say his father withdrew him
to have him home schooled. Then they all
just vanish.
Seven years later, the Lewis family
showed up in the records in Atlanta, all
except a wife. She’s listed on the school
and tax records as deceased. They rented
a house in town, and Blake Lewis is
entered into the middle school there, again
by his father. His birth date is listed as
January fifth, 1990, in Gainesville,
Georgia, yet there’s no record of him in
the county health department, where the
records are kept. Old man Lewis
presented a birth certificate when he
enrolled Blake, which must have been
faked, since the county has no record of it.
Lewis was a preacher and had already
made quite a name for himself throughout
the southern states as a revivalist. Got
himself a little congregation started up in
Atlanta that grew pretty fast.”
“So what are you saying, Michael? Do
you suspect some kind of foul play with
the mother? Did you consider the fact that
she might have died after they left
Gainesville but before they got to
Atlanta?”
“Maybe. Hell, anything’s possible. I still
think she may have run off. But if you
were a mother, would you run off and
leave your kid with someone like Tom
Lewis?”
“No, of course not, but people do all kinds
of crazy things. You never know. The only
other
explanation
would
be...what?
You’re not thinking he did something to
her before he moved away? God!”
“I don’t know, Chad. I managed to track
down some relatives of hers still living in
north Georgia. Some cousins. None of
them had heard from her in years. They
had no idea where she might be. They
haven’t heard from her since she was
living in Gainesville, they said. The idea
that something awful happened to her
would certainly answer some questions
about Blake, and why he’s so messed up.
Especially if he witnessed anything.”
“But why? Why in the world would a
preacher like Lewis do such a thing?”
“Like you said, people do crazy things.”
“Holy shit, if we could prove something
like that...”
“I’d love to go to Gainesville and snoop
around a bit. Maybe talk to some of the
Ashley family’s old neighbors. Take a
look at the kid’s school records and
pictures. Somebody around there might
remember them and know something.”
“Maybe if you took Blake with you? He
might remember something.”
“Maybe. I guess we’ll have to see. If he’ll
even go with me—he didn’t seem too
happy about it when I brought it up.”
“Oh, getting feisty, huh?”
I smiled. “Maybe just a little. He’s really
come a long way since he first came here.
I’m anxious to get him to a place where he
can feel safe though. Without that birth
certificate I can’t take him out of the
country.”
“Well, good luck. Let me know if I can do
anything from here.”
I waved as I turned to go talk to Blake.
“I told you this was a waste of time,
Michael. I don’t remember anything about
Gainesville. I was just a little kid when
we left here.” Blake had been irritable all
morning since we left the neighborhood
the Ashley family used to live in. We only
found one neighbor, a Mrs. Tolbert, who
remembered the “preacher and his
family,” but she had no idea what
happened to them.
“They were just here one day and gone the
next. I never did know where they went.
They just up and left quick like. I
remember the wife was a sweet, timid
little thing. He was never too friendly
though.”
“And do you remember their little boy?”
“Saw him once or twice, that’s all. Cute
little blond headed boy.”
Michael thanked her and kept trying the
other neighbors, but could find no one
who remembered the Ashley family. The
fact Mrs. Tolbert remembered Mr. Ashley
was a preacher had to be significant
though.
“Let’s go home, Michael. I’m tired.”
I turned to Blake and tried to soothe him.
He was being entirely too irritable, and it
wasn’t like him.
“Okay, we will. But first I’m going by
your old school to see about getting a look
at a yearbook to see if I can find your
picture, and maybe go by where your
family used to live. At least where Tyler
Ashley used to live.
“Why do you keep bringing that kid up?
I’ve already told you I don’t know him.”
“Okay. Just curious about him, that’s all.
Maybe if you saw his picture, you’d
remember him.”
Blake turned his face to the passing
scenery and said nothing further until we
reached the school. He refused to go
inside with me and waited in the car while
I went inside and spoke with the principal.
I explained I was trying to locate a family
called Ashley, and asked if I might look at
an old elementary school yearbook. She
was very hospitable once I’d shown her
some of my press credentials, which
really meant absolutely nothing, but
people seemed to find somehow official.
I waited rather impatiently for her to find
an elementary school yearbook from
sixteen years before. I turned to the first
grade and found him right away without
even having to check for his name. His
sweet little face smiled out from the page,
his sandy blond hair and blue eyes just the
same. It was quite obviously Blake,
though the name said Tyler Ashley.
I had the school secretary copy the page
for me and went back out to the car. Blake
sat listening to my I-pod and barely
looked up. “What now?” he asked.
“Now we go to the health department,
where they keep the birth records.”
I saw Blake’s eyes glance toward me
under the fringe of hair falling in his eyes,
but he didn’t ask any further questions.
When we arrived a few minutes later, I
went inside again and came out in a few
minutes with more photocopies. Next I
drove to the sheriff’s department, parked
the car and turned to Blake. “You’re going
inside with me. No arguments.”
Blake chewed his bottom lip nervously,
but got out of the car and followed me
inside where I asked if I might speak to an
investigator. Within a few minutes, we
were seated across a battered desk from a
tired looking older man who shook hands
with both of us politely.
“I’m Sgt. Bennett. What can I do for you?”
“My name is Michael Lance, and this is
Blake Lewis.” Blake looked up quickly
and then back down, nodding at the
officer. “I’ve been trying to help Blake
locate his birth certificate, and I’ve found
some things I thought might be of interest
to you.”
“Okay...” The detective looked from me to
Blake again. “Like what?”
“Like the fact that Blake’s father moved
him away from this town when he was six
years old, and from what I’ve been able to
ascertain, he changed Blake’s name, along
with his own last name, and they started a
new life in Atlanta under an assumed one.
Oddly enough, Blake’s mother went
missing at the same time. No death
certificate, no divorce decree, none of her
extended family has seen or heard from
her since—she’s just missing, like she fell
off the face of the earth. The former
neighbor I tracked down said she was
there one day and gone the next.”
“Well, Mr. Lance, that is a bit unusual, but
women have been known to leave their
families...”
“That’s certainly true enough, and I can’t
dispute that, but then why did Blake’s
father suddenly leave town and change
both their names?”
The detective shrugged. “To keep her
from following and finding them? Could
have been a lot of reasons. You’re
implying there was some deeper mystery.
There’s no reason to suspect foul play.”
I looked back at the detective and spoke in
a firm voice “Blake’s been having dreams
about a doll being buried with dirt falling
in its face since he was six years old. Just
about the time his name was changed and
he was taken away from here. The house
they lived in is still there on Perkins
Street. Now I know all this is
circumstantial, and I know you don’t have
a clue who I am. But I’m an
investigational journalist, and I’ve done a
fair amount of research in my time. I’m
telling you that Julia Ashley, this boy’s
mother, seems to have disappeared off the
face of the earth in January of 1996. Not
one of her family members have seen her
or heard from her in all that time.
“There is no record of a death or burial,
nor any record of a divorce in the state of
Georgia or any of the adjoining states.
Look, Sgt. Bennett, I have no clue as to
what happened back in 1996. I have
copies of Tyler Ashley’s birth records,
including fingerprints, and I’m going to
have Blake’s matched up to them to see if
they’re one and the same person. I have a
pretty good idea they are. Now I’m not
trying to tell you how to do your job,
detective, but personally, if I were you,
I’d want to take a look around that back
yard.”
Michael
Blake lay beside me, his back against
some stacked pillows and his hand on my
chest, idly trailing his fingers up and
down. “So you think my name is really
Tyler?”
“Yes, honey, I do. The detective took your
fingerprints and is going to see if they
match up to Tyler Ashley’s birth records,
and I think it’s very possible.”
“And you really think my father might
have hurt my mother?” His voice was
almost too low and calm as he said the
words and I glanced down at him.
“I’m just not sure, honey. Something
strange happened, I think. She could have
died from natural causes, and he panicked
and buried her himself for some reason.
Hell, she could have just left and he didn’t
want her to find you again. I just think you
need to find out. Those bad dreams you
keep having…”
“I did have some dolls once,” he said
dreamily.
“You did?”
“Yes, I used to play with them—just for
fun. Me and my friend would dress them
up and stuff. I was pretty young. I
remember my father didn’t like it.”
“No, I would imagine not.”
“I remember he took them away from me,
but I don’t remember much else.” He
shuddered slightly. “I don’t think I want
to.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to
think about it if you don’t want to. It will
take a few days for the sheriff’s
department to investigate. In the meantime,
I’m taking you to a fancy hotel in Atlanta
while I finish a little work, and then I’ll
take you back to New York with me
where I have a small apartment. Mostly I
travel taking pictures and writing articles,
and I plan on taking you with me once I get
your passport situation straightened out.
Oh yes, and I plan on making love to you
every day and every night for a long time
to come. How does all that sound to you?”
Blake smiled up at him. “That sounds
wonderful. If only it could come true.”
“What’s to stop it, baby?”
Blake chewed on his bottom lip and didn’t
answer. I didn’t push him, just pulled his
head back and kissed him for a long time
and held him in my arms until he went to
sleep. I still felt such crushing guilt for not
realizing six years ago that Tom Lewis
was manipulating Blake. I’d left him with
that monster for all those years.
It was Friday night, and once I got Blake
to Atlanta, I was going to the revival
meeting with the organization on Sunday
morning. After that, I was taking Blake as
far from here as I could get him. I’d done
everything I could to expose Tom Lewis,
and it was in the hands of the police after
this. I kissed Blake’s forehead. Just a few
more hours, and all this would be over.
On Saturday, Michael took Blake to
Atlanta and checked them into a nice
hotel. It was the nicest one Blake had ever
stayed in, and as he rode up the glass
elevator, he gazed down into the luxurious
lobby and thought about how much his life
had changed since Michael had burst back
onto the scene. Michael was so vibrant, so
alive, that it made Blake realize how
barren and bleak his former life was
before Michael came back into it.
The room where Michael took him
seemed extravagant to him. The huge king-
sized bed, draped with expensive fabrics,
the thick, plush carpet under his feet and
the dark cherry wood were nothing he was
used to, and made him think uneasily of
the sins of decadence and gluttony. He’d
been taught these things were sinful, and it
was hard to shake the old training. When
Michael put down their suitcase and
pulled him into his arms, though, he shook
off the unease.
“I can almost see the little wheels turning
in that head. What’s the matter, baby?
What are you so worried about?”
“I’m not really worried, but Michael…
how much did this room cost? We don’t
need anything so fancy, surely.”
Michael glanced around them in surprise.
“It’s not that fancy, is it? Don’t worry
about the money. I can afford it, and I want
you to stay somewhere nice.” He bent his
head and took Blake’s lips in an unhurried
kiss that had his cock stirring to life.
Pushing against Michael’s chest, he
laughed. “Stop that. I can’t think straight
when you’re kissing me.”
“Good. I don’t want you to think so
much.” He took Blake’s hand and pulled
him to the bed. “As a matter of fact, I
don’t want you thinking at all right now.”
He pushed Blake to his knees by the bed
and thrust his hips toward Blake’s face.
Blake undid the buttons on the fly of his
jeans one by one and slid them down his
hips. He put his mouth on the head of
Michael’s cock, swirling his tongue
around it like Michael liked. He knew he
wasn’t exactly expert at this, but when he
glanced up at Michael, he had his eyes
closed and a look of bliss on his
handsome face. Feeling bolder, he licked
him from the base of the shaft all the way
to the tip. When Michael made a wordless
cry, he nibbled at the tip, thrusting his
tongue down into the slit like Michael had
done to him. At that, Michael’s legs
started to tremble and he put his hands on
Blake’s head, thrusting a little into his
mouth.
“Cover your teeth, darlin’,” he said
breathlessly, and Blake dutifully pulled
his lips down over his teeth as Michael
arched and forced more of his shaft into
Blake’s mouth. Michael’s cock nudged the
back of his throat, but he kept breathing
through his mouth and held on. He wanted
to make Michael feel like he made Blake
feel. He wanted to make him cry out his
name.
Blake moved his hands to cup Michael’s
balls as Blake tried to keep his lips as
tight against him as he could to increase
the suction. Michael tightened his grip on
Blake’s hair and rose up on his toes,
thrusting harder. He was moaning and
trying not to, but Blake wanted to hear
him. He wanted to own all his sounds. He
worked his mouth harder, and Michael
thrust forward as his balls emptied down
Blake’s throat in one jet after another. He
swallowed every drop, not letting go until
all the little after-shudders had stopped
and Michael said his name over and over.
Even then he held his softening dick in his
mouth until Michael pulled gently away.
Blake looked up at him and the look of
tenderness and sweetness he saw on his
face made his heart flutter in his chest.
Michael pulled him to his feet and held
him close, his hand caressing his cock
through his pants. “Your turn, baby. You’d
better lie down and get comfortable. This
is going to take me a while.”
The next morning, Michael had room
service bring up breakfast and again,
Blake felt qualms about the wicked
amount of money Michael was spending.
Later when Michael took him shopping, he
felt even more sinful. Michael bought
Blake several pairs of jeans so expensive
he wouldn’t allow Blake to look at the
tags. Still, he caught a glimpse of the cash
register when the clerk was ringing them
up and got a fluttery feeling in the pit of
his stomach.
They went to more stores, and Michael
made him try on shirts and shoes, and they
made several more purchases. When he
protested,
Michael
wouldn’t
listen,
saying, “You’re going to need all these
things and more when we get to New
York. I won’t have you wearing that cheap
polyester crap you had on when I found
you. I threw all that shit away anyway.”
It was true Blake hadn’t seen any of his
own clothes since he’d reconnected with
Michael. He was wearing a pair of
Michael’s shorts now and one of his t-
shirts. It was the first time he’d worn
shorts since he was a little boy.
They took their packages back to the hotel
and spent the rest of the morning making
love again. Michael seemed to be
insatiable, and Blake didn’t mind at all. In
fact, he couldn’t remember ever being so
happy. Occasionally, his mind would drift
to his father and what he was doing,
wondering if he was looking for Blake
and dreading the idea that he might find
him. But Michael always seemed to know
when he was thinking too much and would
gently tease him out of it.
Blake took a nap that afternoon and woke
up as Michael was pulling on his shoes to
leave. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart and
when you wake up, order some room
service like we did this morning. You
remember how, right?”
Blake nodded, still sleepy-eyed. “When
will you be back?”
“Not until later tonight. I left some money
on the dresser for you just in case, but
order room service when you’re hungry
and watch some TV. There’s some good
movies listed too. I’d rather you stay
inside and not go down to the lobby today.
Just stay in here and rest, and when I come
back we’ll go for a late dinner. Sound
okay?”
Nodding, and still half asleep, Blake
turned over and grabbed Michael’s
pillow, clutching it to his chest. Michael
came over and dropped a kiss on his
cheek. “I love you, sweetheart. Rest and
I’ll see you tonight.”
After Michael left, Blake thought he might
have trouble getting back to sleep, but he
closed his eyes and sleep overtook him
easily. His dreams began with a little boy
playing in his room, a little boy named
Tyler.
Tyler was sitting in his room playing
with his favorite doll and was pondering
big issues for such a small boy. He didn’t
understand what some of the words he
heard them yelling meant, but he knew
they didn’t sound like happy words. He
could tell from the tone in his daddy’s
voice when he said words like queer and
fag that these weren’t good words.
Tyler wished he could be what his father
called “a normal boy” but he just didn’t
know how. There were no neighbor boys
for him to play with, only a little girl
named Regina, whom he occasionally
played dolls with in the back yard next
door. Tyler liked playing with her and
sometimes she even let him brush her
hair. Regina had some makeup that she
got from her mother’s drawer, and he
loved the way it smelled. Tyler begged
Regina to let him put on some of the
makeup and decided when they were
finished that he looked just like a movie
star and wanted to show his mama.
Tyler ran home excited to show her what
he would look like as a movie star
princess, not realizing his father had
come home early until he ran into the
living room thinking about how he would
make his mother smile when she saw him.
Tyler stopped dead in his tracks when he
saw his father’s face. A jolt of fear shot
through him.
Tyler thought his father’s face was going
to explode, because it was so red it was
almost purple, and he was frozen to the
spot, mesmerized by the transformation
taking place before his eyes. Tyler
couldn’t move even as his father stepped
forward with his hand raised.
“No, don’t do it!” his mother screamed,
trying to step in between Tyler and his
father. Tyler watched in horror as his
father swung his hand, striking his
mother in the face, knocking her back
onto the couch, “This is your fucking
fault for making him this way. Giving
him those sissy toys to play with when I
wanted him to be a real boy!
“No Daddy! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to,
don’t hurt her!” Tyler cried, pulling at
him.
“I told you to wash that shit off your
face, you little queer. You wouldn’t do it,
so I’m going to do it for you, and when
we finish we’re going to build a fire and
burn all those sissy toys of yours, too.
I’m going to make you a normal boy if it
kills all of us,” his father hissed, face
still purple red. He dragged him up the
steps to his second floor bedroom,
hurting his arm and making him cry out
with pain. Tyler’s mama ran behind
them, pulling at him and begging him to
stop.
When they got to his room, his father
released him, and his mother gathered
him in her arms. He was almost
hysterical by then and couldn’t stop
crying. She knelt on the floor in his
bedroom crying and pleading with his
father not to do this, and Tyler pulled
away to wrap himself around his father’s
leg as his father continued to throw all
his dolls, their dresses, all his pretend
cooking toys and everything Tyler held
dear into a huge box. Tyler could hear
fragile toys breaking and hear his dolls
crying, some of their cries matching his
own wails of terror. “Please, please
Daddy, don’t burn my toys. I’m sorry
Daddy—please don’t hurt my doll-
babies.”
He heard his mama come up behind them
and start to pull on his daddy’s arm,
telling him to stop. His daddy turned and
grabbed her by her shoulders and threw
her across the room. Tyler heard a sharp
cracking sound as her head hit the door
frame, and then his mama was on the
floor, being really still and quiet. Tyler
ran to her, but his daddy got there first.
He grabbed his arm, pushing him into
the closet and closing him up in the dark.
Later as Tyler was crying himself to
sleep in the empty void of all his dolls
and stuffed animals, the sobs racking his
little body slowly became fewer and
fewer. Sleep took Tyler, and he slept
deeply, more deeply than he had ever
before, dreaming of them in a happy
place, a place surrounded by his dolls
and toys, as he handed his father a
pretend cup of tea and sat across from
him at his table in his castle where Tyler
was the princess and all was well.
Much later he woke up, and the house
was so quiet and still. He was afraid his
daddy had forgotten he was still in the
closet, so he eased open the door.
Through his bedroom window facing the
back yard, he could see a light coming
from the yard dancing on the ceiling. He
eased over to it, afraid his daddy would
come in the door any minute and start
yelling again. He made it, though, and
gazed down into the backyard from his
second floor bedroom window.
The scene below his window was like
something out of the scary movies he
sometimes watched with his mama when
his daddy had to work late. A tall, dark
figure was in the backyard moving
around a roaring fire. On the fire, Tyler
could see the broken bodies of his doll
babies, their limbs blackened by the fire
and their little faces melting. But it was
the deep, black hole in the ground next to
the fire that held his attention. His father
was shoveling dirt down into it, filling in
the hole.
The light of the fire illuminated the
contents of the hole and at first Tyler
thought it was one of his dolls who lay
with its eyes and mouth open as his
father shoveled in the dirt to cover it.
Then a flame leaped higher and he saw
who was really in the grave his father
was digging. It was his mama’s face that
was being covered up, and as he
watched, another shovelful of dirt landed
on her open mouth, filling it obscenely. It
was the last thing he saw before he slid
down insensible onto the cold wooden
floor.
Chapter Ten
Michael
I drove to the hotel where Chad and the
other FAB members, including Jerry Todd
and his new lover, Bill Henley, were
staying. I was deliberately keeping Blake
as far from this circus as I could, but I still
had one more thing to do before I could
leave with Blake for New York. I’d
promised Chad to help him expose these
monsters, and I would follow through.
The so-called revival was taking place
that evening. It was actually a meeting for
concerned parents, and another attempt to
enlist their money and their help in getting
their gay sons to one of his camps for
“treatment” with his reparative therapy
techniques. The meeting was to take place
in a large rented auditorium in a suburb of
Atlanta. Lewis and his cohorts had been
busy
visiting
local
fundamentalist
churches and plastering flyers all over
town for the past two weeks to muster a
large crowd.
Chad’s plan was a simple one. He would
be in the crowd, along with his FAB
members. Jerry would be with them, in
some kind of disguise to keep the
members of Escape from recognizing him.
When the moment seemed right, Chad
would give the signal and all the members
of FAB would go up onstage, forcing their
way if they had to. Bill Hensley would
take Jerry Todd to the center of the stage
and kiss him, then let him tell the assembly
who he was, and how he’d lied about it
for so long. My job would be to take the
pictures before we were all shut down.
Two rather large members of FAB, bear
bikers from the club chapter in Knoxville,
would stand with me to make sure no one
took my camera. Others from the same
group were on hand to run interference in
case Chad needed it.
Since Jerry and Blake had been taken from
the camp, no alarm of any kind had been
raised. There had been no mention of the
disappearance of either the young men in
the camp or Jerry Todd and Blake. Rev.
Lewis was playing it very cool, perhaps
waiting to see if the organization would be
contacted. In the meantime, it seemed to
be business as usual. Maybe after tonight,
we could help to shut this operation down.
If not close it down completely, at least
embarrass the hell out of them and help
expose their hypocrisy.
I still had hopes that the police in
Gainesville would investigate Blake’s
former home. The detective hadn’t been
too promising along those lines, telling me
he’d have to have damn good probable
cause before he could go digging up
backyards, but he promised to look around
and talk to a few people. It was the best I
could do until—and if—Blake’s memory
came back. The grad student psychologist
told me he might never remember clearly,
if at all, and it was better not to push him.
I planned to get him to the best doctor I
could find once we arrived back home in
New York, and I hoped a doctor might be
able to help him. The idea of a
dissociative break frankly scared the hell
out of me.
The meeting started on time with the usual
hymns and the exhortation to stand for
prayer. An associate preacher I didn’t
recognize led the long-winded, overly
loud and melodramatic invocation with
ample “Amens” thrown in from the faithful
around the room. He introduced Tom
Lewis, who was dressed in his usual
black pants and cheap-as-shit white, short
sleeved shirt with a clip-on tie. He came
gravely forward to the podium, opened his
mouth and plowed right in, the customary
malignant poison spewing from his mouth,
as his beady eyes swept the room. I tuned
it out and kept my eyes on Chad, who was
a few rows in front of me, and I waited for
his signal.
About the time Lewis got to the part of his
sermon where he talked about the virulent
gay plague sweeping the nation, Chad
stood up and moved to the end of the aisle.
He received a few annoyed or puzzled
glances, but no one seemed alarmed yet.
Instead of going toward the back of the
auditorium, though, Chad continued to
stride forward, and I saw some of the
associates on stage with Lewis get up out
of their chairs.
Chad walked right down in front, planted
his feet and pointed at Lewis. “This man
is a liar!” he yelled, turning back toward
the audience.
Audible gasps of disbelief and loud cries
of “Sit down!” and “Stop him!” filled the
hall then, and the other members of FAB
sprang into action.
They rushed the stage and maybe the other
members of the audience thought they
were going to grab Chad or shut him up,
because no one else got up or made any
move to stop them. They sat in stunned
silence, watching the show we were about
to put on. As the members of FAB, some
twenty strong, stormed the stage the other
men behind Lewis became alarmed. Some
ran off stage. One or two pulled out their
cell phones, I guess to call for help, and a
couple of burly guys came after Lewis to
pull him from the stage.
Our guys from the biker club threw
themselves in front of Lewis, not touching
him, but crowding his own crew and
preventing them from getting to him. As
the audience stumbled to their feet in
alarm, Jerry Todd and Bill came forward
and grasped the microphone from Lewis’s
by then nerveless hand. Lewis backed up a
few steps, and Jerry went into his spiel,
all about how he was a homosexual male
and proud to be one, though the bigots of
Escape had been indoctrinating him for
years. Bill stood protectively over him as
he spoke, and I was busy snapping
pictures like mad.
What happened next took us all by
surprise and no one more than me. Lewis,
who had been allowed to back his way
across stage to stand next to the steps
leading to the audience, suddenly pulled a
small handgun from his breast pocket and
aimed it right at Jerry Todd. I shouted out
a warning, and Bill Henley threw himself
in front of Jerry. In horror I watched a
small blossom of blood spreading out on
the front of Bill’s shirt.
The biker guys turned and ran bravely
toward him, but he held the gun on them,
yelling and forcing them to back off.
Almost in slow motion, unable to believe
my own eyes, I saw a familiar figure run
up the steps and hurl himself at Lewis
from behind. I screamed out his name and
fought my way toward him. It was Blake
was on top of Lewis, his forearm fastened
around
his
throat.
Though
Lewis
scrabbled and scratched at it, Blake kept
his desperate hold and by the time I
reached him, Tom Lewis was an alarming
shade of purple.
“Blake! Blake, stop it, you’re killing
him!” I threw my arms around his
shoulders and though I was stronger than
he was, I couldn’t budge him. His face
was set and determined, and he was
making awful little whimpering sounds I
never wanted to hear come from him
again. Then other hands joined mine, and
we managed to wrench Blake away from
Lewis, who by that time was unconscious.
I took Blake in my arms and held him as
he shuddered. I pulled him back from my
shoulder and studied his face. “Blake?
Are you all right?”
“I’m not Blake, Michael. My name really
is Tyler, and I remember it all. He-he
killed my m-mama. I had a dream after
you left, and I remembered.” He gazed up
at me and shook his head. “How could I
be so messed up? How could I have
forgotten her? What did that asshole do to
me to make me forget my own mother?”
“Don’t worry about him now, sweetheart.
Concentrate on me.” Hell, I think I was
most alarmed to hear him call the old
bastard an asshole. I’d never heard Blake
cuss before.
The doors to the hall burst open and cries
of “Hands in the air!” and “Everybody
down!” filled the hall as the Atlanta PD
made its presence known. In the general
chaos that followed, nobody noticed when
Tom Lewis woke up and found the gun
Blake had knocked from his hand on the
stage beside him. It was only out of the
corner of my eye that I saw him on his
feet, the handgun back in his shaky hand as
he leveled it right at Blake’s head. I’ll
never know how I managed to move so
fast, but I launched myself over Blake’s
body as an ear-splitting boom shook my
world, just before everything went black.
I was admiring the new camera I had just
purchased to replace the one destroyed in
the general melee at the Escape meeting
when two warm hands came around my
eyes from behind, followed by a hot pair
of lips on the back of my neck.
I grabbed Blake’s hands and pulled him
over the couch and into my lap, his
laughter
sounding
throughout
the
apartment. Putting the camera aside
carefully, I moved my hands down to cup
one of them around his sweet, muscular
ass cheek, while the other one went
around his broad shoulders to hold him in
place, though he wasn’t trying very hard to
get away.
His little ass fit my hands perfectly and I
kneaded it as I took his mouth with mine.
The kiss began playful, but quickly turned
passionate as I explored and savored his
taste on my lips. He’d been exercising,
running in the park, and he smelled hot and
sweaty and absolutely perfect. I moved
one hand from his shoulders to the back of
his head and tangled my fingers in those
damp curls, trapping his head so I could
take full advantage. Licking at his lips, I
took my time, until he whimpered,
straining to get some air in his lungs.
When I finally relented and let him take a
breath, he looked over my shoulder and
then frowned at me, scrunching up his
adorable nose. “Not exactly a good
time…”
“Any time’s good, baby,” I replied and
dove back in for more. An amused chuckle
behind me made me jump in surprise and
twist around to find Chad Bentley standing
behind me, a huge smirk on his face.
“I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me.
The door was ajar. Good to see you
feeling better, Michael,” he said. I turned
around on the sofa, letting Blake scramble
to his feet and stand beside me.
“Come in and sit down, Chad, and stop
lurking.” I reached up and got hold of
Blake’s hand, tugging to get him to sit
down next to me. He perched on the edge
of the sofa. He still felt a little
uncomfortable around Chad, even though
he told me Chad was a good friend to him
while I was in the hospital recovering
from the bullet wound. Actually it grazed
my head, causing a concussion and an
interesting scar, but I made a full recovery
and only had to spend a couple of nights in
the hospital. Bill Henley was not quite so
lucky, but he also made a full recovery
from a gunshot wound to his shoulder. He
was back home in less than a week, though
his arm was still in a sling. Jerry stayed
with him every chance he got, and I’d
heard they were still together.
While I was unconscious, the police had
rounded up all the others, except for Bill
Henley, of course, and took them to jail
for
disrupting
a
lawful
assembly,
disturbing the peace and some other
charges. Chad’s lawyer met them at the
jail, and they were out pretty soon. Blake
had also been taken into custody and had
been questioned by detectives. Chad got
his lawyer on his case, too, and brought
him to the hospital when he’d sprung him.
“What are you doing in New York City,
Chad? Vacation? Or did you find some
more trouble to get into?”
“Not exactly. I came for a wedding—Jerry
and Bill’s.”
“You’re kidding…”
Chad shook his head, smiling. “Nope,
they’re getting married tomorrow. Said I
had to be there since I brought them
together.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Will Jerry be in a
leather slave halter or just a tasteful
collar?”
“That I don’t know, but hey, if it makes
them happy, then…”
“Absolutely.”
Blake stood up. “I’ll leave you two to
talk.” He gestured down at himself in his
running clothes. “I need to take a shower.
Nice to see you again, Chad.”
“You too, man.”
They shook hands, and Blake left the
room. Chad glanced over at me. “What do
I call him? Tyler or Blake?”
“He decided to stick with Blake. It’s what
he’s known most all his life. His legal
name, of course is Tyler, but he decided
finally he wanted to leave that name in the
past.”
“I saw where his old man confessed. That
must have been hard on him.”
“He’s been doing so well. He has his
weekly appointments with the psychiatrist,
for now, but he says he’s doing great and
soon he thinks he can drop back to once a
month. I’ve taken jobs closer to home in
the meantime until he can travel with me.”
“And Tom Lewis is in prison.”
“Yep, for life.”
“Did
they
find
the…body…in
the
backyard like Blake remembered?”
I shook my head. “No. Lewis said he did
put her there overnight until he could
move the body. What Blake saw was true,
but Lewis moved the body to the woods
outside of town. He couldn’t even
remember exactly where after so many
years.”
“God, that’s tragic. Poor Blake.”
“The police are still searching, and if the
body’s found we’ll give her a Christian
burial. Blake thinks she would have
wanted that. In the meantime, we had a
memorial service last week. I think it
comforted Blake a bit. Gave him some
closure.”
I heard the shower in the other room and
suddenly my mouth went a little dry,
thinking of Blake so close by. So wet and
so naked.
Chad heard it too and noticed my reaction.
He gave a short laugh. “And I think I just
outstayed my welcome. I’ll let myself out,
Michael.”
He
nodded
toward
the
bedroom. “Why don’t you go take care of
that?”
I gave him a grateful grin. “Thanks, Chad.
I think I will. And thanks for stopping by.
I’ll be in touch.”
He waved and headed for the door while I
turned to go into the bedroom, leaving a
trail of clothing behind me as I went.
Blake held his face up toward the
blissfully warm water, and groaned in
relief. The heat felt so good on his sore
and aching muscles. He’d been jogging
every day for over a week now, a
suggestion of his doctor’s to relieve
tension and stress. It did help, but made
his muscles ache, because he was so
unused to the activity. He soaped his chest
absently and closed his eyes, imagining
Michael’s hands on him instead of his
own. Now that would be some tension
relieving activity he could get behind.
The shower door opened, and like an
answer to a prayer, a naked Michael
stepped inside and pressed his body
against him. Reaching around him for the
shampoo, he poured some in his hand and
massaged it into Blake’s hair.
Blake made a sound like a purr and leaned
into his touch. Michael’s strong fingers
felt wonderful on his scalp, and the
tension drained away like the shampoo
that ran down his body. Leaning back
against him, Blake turned his head and
kissed Michael’s neck, unable to resist a
little nip of his teeth.
“Oh, you want to play, huh? I see how you
are.” He flipped Blake around to face him
and ducked his head to bite and tease at
his nipples. He slipped a thigh between
his, so Blake could rock his hips against it
while he concentrated on the swollen pink
nubs on Blake’s chest.
Michael let his hands fall lower to trail
lightly over Blake’s cock and he hissed,
his hands coming up to grip Michael’s
shoulders. Michael raised his head and
took his lips in a kiss that made Blake
melt, and he sagged a little against his
lover. When Michael finally let him up for
air, he wondered if all men kissed each
other like this. He never would have
thought so, but Michael didn’t seem to act
as if it were anything remarkable.
Suddenly he wanted to get closer, wanted
to feel Michael deep inside him. He made
an impatient noise and pushed against
Michael’s thighs.
“Want more, Michael. Now.”
“Oh really? My boy’s getting a little
pushy, huh? Maybe I need to remind you
who’s boss around here.”
Blake reached up and bit Michael’s lower
lip in response.
Michael moaned at the playful gesture and
his muscles tensed. He nipped back and
then flipped Blake around and threw him
roughly against the tiles, grabbing him
around the waist and pulling him back
against him like a rag doll. Michael ran
his tongue along the back of Blake’s neck,
using his teeth occasionally to make him
shiver with excitement at Michael’s show
of domination and ownership. Still feeling
playful, Blake turned his head and bit
Michael’s lip again. He looked up
laughing then and saw those beautiful eyes
and the laughter died on his lips. He
shivered, this time a little fear mixed in
with the excitement. Michael’s eyes had
become feral and fierce, and at that
moment Blake felt almost like prey. He
tried to pull away, but Michael slammed
him back into his body and bent him over.
Taking the tube of lube they always kept in
the shower for just this purpose, he
smoothed some on his fingers and thrust
two fingers inside Blake, preparing him
only a little before he thrust into him hard,
unable to hold back any longer.
Blake cried out, starting to pull away but
Michael’s hand went to his cock,
enclosing it in warmth, jacking him hard.
He felt like a puppet being pushed and
pulled back and forth and he cried out at
the influx of sensation. It was too much,
but it wasn’t enough and he needed to
c o me now. He was being shoved and
pounded, but Michael put his lips up
against his ear. “Don’t you dare come
until I tell you that you can.”
Blake groaned, but nodded, knowing
Michael was very capable of pulling out
and leaving him like this, unable to even
jerk off until Michael allowed it.
“Did you hear me, baby?”
“Y-Yes,” he cried out.
He could practically feel the smile on
Michael’s lips. He pounded him toward
an
explosive
orgasm
until
finally,
blessedly, he whispered in his ear. “Come
for me, baby.”
Blake climaxed in an orgasm that rocked
him to his core. Michael followed him in
seconds, then slumped over him. It took a
few moments for him to be able to pull
out, but Michael finally straightened up,
caressing Blake’s hip. Turning the water
off, Michael helped him get out and dry
off. Blake took the towel from his hands
and returned the favor. Michael pulled
him over to the bed and made him lie
down with him.
“Nap time, baby. I think you killed me.”
Blake pulled Michael’s arms around him
and settled back on the pillow with a sigh.
He heard his lover’s breathing slowing as
he slipped into a deep sleep, and then
Blake allowed himself to relax in his
arms. Here with Michael was where he’d
always wanted to be. Here where it was
safe and warm and there were no more
secrets.
The End
About the Authors
Shannon West
lives with her husband and
two crazy dogs in the south. She likes to
travel and read and write pretty much
constantly. Shannon loves writing M/M
erotic romance and loves to hear from her
readers. She tries to go to as many
Romance Conventions as she possibly can
so she can meet them. She is a 2013
Rainbow Awards finalist.
You can learn more about Shannon and
her
books
at
http://www.shannonwestbooks.com
Remy Devereaux
lives with his husband
and some very spoiled and pampered cats
in a small town in Georgia. He loves
antiques and enjoys decorating his century
old home with them. He and Shannon have
been friends for years and know lots of
serious dirt on each other.
Dark
Hollows
Press
Dark Hollows Press is a publisher of erotic romance. We
publish mostly m/m novels and short stories, but are open
to all genres of erotic expression, including, f/f, m/f and
ménage. We believe our authors are artists and their
talent shouldn't be censored, so our authors present high
quality stories full of romance, desire and sometimes
graphic moments that are both entertaining and erotic.
We have an exclusive group of talented writers and we
publish stories that range from historical to fantasy, sci-fi
to contemporary.
We invite you to visit us at
www.darkhollowspress.com
.