[This story contains elements of dubious consent. If that's not your flavor, read elsewhere.]
Dean and Ethan were in charge of family dinner that evening. They made a giant pot of gumbo with shrimp, red snapper, crab and smoked oysters. I hadn’t placed Dean’s oddly Brooklynite drawl as being from New Orleans, but it turned out both our big boys were from the Big Easy.
Suddenly Ethan’s almost baroque tattoos made more sense to me.
Everyone was in high spirits, despite the conspicuous absence of Finn and Donovan.
“Donovan is on a time out,” Jackson shared with us, “and Finn is doing a little thinking.”
Riley caught my eyes and raised his eyebrows. I shrugged.
Luca sat on one side of me, Ethan on the other. Both seemed to have roaming hands that would set down firmly on my thigh, or a shoulder, or just cover my hand as a reassuring reminder that they were there, or that I was.
We helped ourselves to seconds and thirds of the Cajun stew, followed by an impressive fruit salad with berries, banana, kiwi and white peaches. The dinner migrated downstairs for Sunday HBO drama or a post-prandial work out, which mainly consisted of a couple of the guys idly doing curls while watching television with the rest of us.
I went upstairs to refresh my wine glass. I set the glass down on the kitchen counter and was about to open a new bottle when I realized I had to pee. I made my way to the powder room off the front hall and took care of business, then rinsed my hands.
When I came out, Luca was waiting for me. He gave me an odd look, then shoved me abruptly, causing me to stumble backwards.
“What the fuck, Luca?”
He shoved me again, knocking me into the wall and closing in on me with his larger body.
I tried pushing him back, out of my personal space, but he was solid and immovable.
“Seriously, dude?”
“What are you gonna do about it, bitch?” He pressed his forearm against my neck, using the mass of his body to pin me against the wall.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I demanded to know.
“My problem?” Luca taunted. “My problem is that you’re a pussy. You’re a weak faggot who can’t defend himself, and it makes me sick.”
It may make you sick, I thought, but that wasn’t all. I could sense his rampant arousal pressing into me.
“Feels like it makes you horny,” I countered.
He bitch-slapped me and spat in my face. “Pushing you around always bones me up.”
He hooked his arm around my neck and forced me over into a hunched-over stoop, frog-marching me towards the stairway, like a high school bully.
“Let’s take this where we can be alone.”
Luca was half a head taller than me, and broader than Ernesto. While I’d described him as having a dancer’s build, his arms and legs were thicker, the shoulders and chest more developed. There was just some kind of easy grace when he moved. At the bottom of the stairs, he swept me effortlessly off the ground and over his shoulder, hauling me up to the second floor and into my bedroom with ease.
How were these wrestlers just so preternaturally strong? And how did Luca know where my bedroom was?
He dropped me unceremoniously to the floor.
“I was kind of a small kid in high school. I didn’t have a growth spurt until the end of my junior year. I got picked on. That’s the main reason I took up wrestling. To defend myself – and improve my strength.
“I never got to be a bully,” he continued. “Which is a shame, cuz it turns out I like it. Take my shoes off and kiss my feet,” he commanded.
Of course I was hard as a rock. I pulled Luca’s shoes off one at a time, then peeled off his socks. His toes were long and beautifully defined, the arches of his feet again reminding me of a dancer’s. I rubbed them, brought them up to my nose and sucked in one of his big toes. He pulled away and kicked me back down to the floor, then straddled my chest. He pulled off his shirt and spread his right underarm over my face.
“Breathe in my musk, faggot.” He smothered me in his pit. Turns out being buried in someone’s underarm was my drug of choice. I breathed in deeply, thinking of how his musk differed from that of Nick, or Riley. Luca’s ripe pits were spicy, like onions, but also something more primitive that I responded to. Pheromones, no doubt. He lowered his torso and approached his face to mine, his lips opening slightly. And then slammed a fist into my gut.
I coughed, gasped, sputtered. And actually got even harder.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” Luca announced. “Hold you down and fuck you. Try and stop me.”
“I don’t want to stop you,” I said, honestly.
“TRY!” he bellowed.
I gave it the college try. I turned over on my stomach and tried to crawl out from under him. But he just pinned me in place with his full weight.
“Act like you don’t want it.”
I struggled and fought him off, yelling. He just clamped one hand over my mouth, using the other to pulled down my shorts, lowering his own next. He then spat in his hand. Slicked up his cock. Lined it up with my hole. And thrust forward.
I howled for effect, thrashing about, trying to throw him off my back. Screaming my fake protest into his hand.
“Shut up and take it, you dumb bitch.” He pressed me down, squeezed one arm around my neck in a choke hold, the other still plastered over my mouth. His thrusts were not violent now, just insistent, inevitable. The weight of him, like that of all these jocks, was like a security blanket. The jacket that you throw over a dog terrified by a thunderstorm or fireworks.
I didn’t want to be anywhere else, and he didn’t seem to want to be, either.
Once again I was owned. He told me so.
“You’re mine, pussy. I own you.”
I didn’t argue. His muscular body held me down with the sheer mass of him. The girth of his cock filled me up and told me I was his. I suppose if he hadn’t been so attentive towards me the last few weeks, I might not have felt so easy about trusting him. But he had been, and I was smitten, and curious enough about his little bully scene to play along.
Who am I kidding? I didn’t play along. He took me along. Masterfully.
He soon reached the acme of his pleasure as he plowed into my ass. He paused, shuddered and unloaded deep within me. He then kissed and coddled me, like he hadn’t just had his brutal way with me. We stayed on the floor like, him still stretched over my body, enclosing me with strong arms and legs. He whispered into my ear, that familiar ASMR voice he’d used after the wrestling drills. I was still hard and hadn’t yet climaxed.
“Even though we both had fucked you earlier, it took every ounce of our self-control not to fuck you again at the cabin,” his voice purred, softly.
And like the last time, I came hands-free, moaning, responding to both the words and the vibration.
I gulped, trying to get my head around what he was telling me. “Our…?”
“Dean and me. He told me it would be a team-building exercise, but Ernesto was running the show. It was all about Ernesto. That was some seriously sick shit, but it still turns me on, thinking about it…”
I processed his words for a moment. “Me too, if I’m honest. Though maybe not at the time. And I’ll also say it’s frankly a relief now to know who all was there. Because in the moment, I really couldn’t make out who you were.”
“Well you were half out of your mind on drugs,” Luca reminded me. “Also, I’m a Performing Arts minor. I’m really good at stage make-up.”
He ground his dick, which was still lodged deep in my channel. It was growing again.
“Theater!” I said, surprised. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Dance, actually. I’ve trained since I was a kid.”
Pieces were beginning to fall into place.
“I knew it! I noticed right from the start there was something graceful about the way you move.”
Luca was speaking softly in my ear again now. And thrusting gently in and out.
“When we got into those outfits, with the makeup, it was like we became something else. Outlaws. Untouchable. There was no holding us back.”
He thrust emphatically. “I was hard the entire time. I mean the entire time. The moment I put those tights on. Dean and Ernesto too. Like we’d each taken double doses of Viagra.”
“I could tell. The only way I didn’t lose my mind was to focus on your legs and hard cocks, your bodies, to try to separate you from the psychopaths that had snatched me.”
“I mean, we all wanted to throw you down and rape the shit out of you. But we’d agreed to keep to the script. It was Ernesto’s game.”
Luca thrust into me again.
“Can I tell you another secret?” he murmured.
“Sure.”
“That night at the cabin, when we left you with Ernesto, Dean and I fucked. We were so horned up. Don’t tell him I told you.”
He was grinding in and out of me, insistently. Like he belonged there.
“We were like rutting dogs. We rolled around on the ground outside, in the dark. Wrestling. Growling.”
I was hard again. Luca kept up his confident thrusts. “Eventually, Dean manhandled me underneath him, pinning me down and just ripped into the back of my tights. Fucked me… ugh – DOWN!”
On the word ‘down,’ he shuddered his release into my ass.
“It wasn’t the first time I’d been fucked,” he continued to murmur in my ear. “Ernesto’s my roommate. He’s been fucking me all year. And now at the duplex, obviously.”
He held me down, purring. “It’s different with you. I just want to be the alpha, dominate you – make you my bitch.”
I came again.
“Best of both worlds,” he concluded.
What can I say? Athletes with complicated desires. He scooped me up and onto the bed, enfolding me and spooning me. I drifted to sleep, soothed. When I awoke a few hours later, he was gone.
The next week unfolded without incident, which was to say:
After our workout Tuesday morning, Jax and Ethan took a roll of heavy blue resistance band to immobilize me, naked and lubed up, on one of the benches. After taking turns on both of my holes, they left me for the “free use” of others, as they termed it. “Others” turned out to be Finn and Riley, who seemed to be on good terms again. They too availed themselves of both my holes, working up a scenario where I had become the lacrosse team’s full-time fuck-bitch. At least they had the grace to release me when they were done.
Pedro and Rico grabbed me on my way back from the bathroom sometime in the middle of the night on Wednesday and had their way with me in Pedro’s bed.
Ernesto and Dean impressed me into wrestling duties Thursday evening, which turned out to consist mostly of them tackling me to the mat, stripping off my clothes, stretching me in multiple directions and positions, pinning me down then fucking me.
Friday night, Nick and Riley surprised me as I was coming in from a study session with Ernesto at the duplex. They jumped me on the porch in a repeat appearance of their initiation garb, shirtless with compression pants, gloves and skull masks.
They wordlessly hustled me down to the basement, stripped me, poured baby oil over themselves and me, then took turns fucking me, pinning me between both their bodies, until they ended in a double penetration, Riley holding me up under the shoulders, Finn folding my legs against Riley’s slicked-up muscular chest. It took us over an hour to clean up the godawful mess.
The weekend was relatively quiet, with Sunday family dinner on us before we knew it. I was cooking with Ernesto, who I’d learned was actually born in Cuba, before his family emigrated to Miami.
Under his supervision, we prepared a pork shoulder with black beans in the slow-cooker, seasoned with cumin, garlic and ancho chile and cooked in beer. The recipe was actually mine, but he tweaked it to resemble dishes he’d grown up with.
We drank Cuba libres while we worked, joined by the others. Finn was there with Donovan, who cornered me in the kitchen at one point. He guided me gently but forcefully into the laundry room. I stiffened and braced myself for the worst.
“You were right,” he said, almost inaudibly. “We were using you, and I’m sorry. You’re sweet, and you seem to know what you want, and that was both a turn on and a trigger for me.”
“Because you’re gay?”
“Duh,” he quipped. “But as you correctly surmised,” he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper, “I have feelings for Finn.”
“Are you out? I mean do you plan—”
“We’re out to each other,” he cut me off. “And to the group. But not to the whole world. I’m not ready for that, not ‘til I figure out what that would look like.”
“Well I’m glad. For both of you.”
He trained his 1000-watt attention on me, making me melt. “Thanks. And again, I’m sorry for how we treated you. Maybe we can get together again at some point, but for now, I don’t really feel like sharing him.” He ruffled my hair and goosed my ass.
I giggled, and we joined the others in the kitchen.
We switched to beer when we sat down. We served the pork over rice with sweet pan-fried plantains, another family recipe of Ernesto’s.
Finn and Donovan were surprisingly open about expressing affection at the table. It was like someone had flipped a switch. There were pets, and little kisses and even hand-holding.
Riley was the first to call out the elephant in the room. “So what, Finn, are you a bossy bottom now?”
I choked on a mouthful of plantains and quickly took a sip of beer to wash it down.
“You wish,” Finn replied, smirking, but Donovan’s cheeks colored.
“More like a switch hitter,” I said, shooting him a defiant glare.
He didn’t respond. Riley chuckled.
After dinner, in my room, I sat up in bed with my laptop, appropriately enough, on my lap.
“Hello, whore.”
This time it was I who’d facetimed Lexi, but she still managed to get the drop on me.
“You don’t know the half of it!”
“Tell me, bitch,” she insisted.
“Eleven jocks. I’ve slept with all of them. Not always willingly, at least according to university consent standards. The stories this bed could tell.”
“You’re not like, their prisoner…?” She said, slightly horrified.
“No, more like their chattel.”
“Justin, what are they—”
“I’m kidding. Mostly. It’s like I’ve given myself a dare, a personal challenge, without quite realizing. Say yes. Say yes to everything. At least the first time.”
“And if you say no…?”
“For most of these guys, no means yes.”
“Dude—” she sputtered.
“It’s alright, the guys have my back. They’re looking out for me. Pedro especially. And a football player called Jackson. And seriously, if ‘no’ means yes here and now, it’s kind of so it won’t in the future, I think.
“It’s like I’ve become a hands-on sex therapist. Work out your issues now, with Justin. It’s the lockdown, so it doesn’t count.”
“It does seem like time is standing still,” Lexi agreed.
“Right?” I exclaimed. “It’s May already. How are you doing? Anything exciting to report?”
“All good, everyone’s fine. Let’s get back to you,” she deflected.
“Did you check out the pictures I sent?”
“Dude, the basement is insane. They better leave some of that gear there. I mean, they could take away a couple benches, and we could put in an elliptical and a treadmill.”
“I’ll talk to Coach,” I promised.
“Coach? Who the fuck is Coach?” she demanded.
“Um, he kind of runs the show. I mean in the Athletic Department…”
“Not just the Athletic Department, I’m guessing,” she smirked, somewhat skeptically.
“Let’s just say he’s aware of everyone’s history.” I changed the subject. “Back to the photos I sent. What’d you think of Dean?”
“I could date him. But let’s talk about the tall dark drink of water named Finn…”
“Spoken for. He’s in love with the QB. Quarterback.”
“Even I know what a QB is, dork. Damn.”
“It’s a long story. Remind me to tell you one day.”
There was a knock at my door.
“It’s open,” I called out. Nick poked his head in.
“Hey.” I turned back to Lexi on the screen. “Someone’s here, I better go.”
“Turn the screen around!!!” she demanded. I did as directed.
“Oh, look, it’s Nick!” I heard her call out.
“Do I know you?” was Nick’s puzzled response.
Lexi seemed pleased with herself. “No, but I know you. Be good, boys!!! Love you Justin.”
She ended the call. I set the laptop down and looked up at Nick.
“What’s up?’
“Your number’s up, that’s what,” he said enigmatically.
A month ago, I might have panicked. Not today.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning keep Tuesday night open. Coach’s orders.” He turned and shut the door behind him. Leaving me to contemplate what that could mean.
On Tuesday, Nick told me to dress for outdoors, with good footwear. All in black. I had black jogging pants and underneath, insulated black winter silks, both top and bottom. I finished it off with a black hoodie. When I came downstairs, he was dressed in his usual grey sweatpants and a wrestling warm-up jacket. And carrying a gym bag. We headed out to his jeep.
During the drive there, he told me Riley and Finn would be there. For my comfort zone, I suspected, but also to allow them to flex their demons. I was surprised about Finn, but apparently he’d explained to Donovan that if he wasn’t ready to be bottom, Finn wasn’t ready to be exclusive. And though I didn’t entirely trust him, I trusted the others to have my back.
The ride out was about 45 minutes. We left the highway and were slowly climbing in altitude through a very densely wooded and uninhabited area. Eventually, we turned off the main road onto a dirt road. The jeep rattled with the rough terrain, before we turned into a small drive. The drive continued along for another mile or so, before ending in front of a simple, rustic cabin.
I’d been here before. I felt my heart sink.
“I don’t know if I can do another scene here,” I confessed. “I haven’t entirely processed that night…”
“It’s okay, we’re not doing anything here. It’s just a base of operations,” Nick attempted to reassure me. “A starting point. Just come in and say ‘hi’ to the guys.”
I was skeptical, but I got out of the jeep and followed him to the front steps of the cabin. When we got inside, I was pleasantly surprised. The cabin was furnished simply but comfortably. There was a wood burning stove in one corner I hadn’t remembered, and comfortable sofas and chairs in plaid chintz. There were several homey area rugs, delineating the living area from a corner kitchenette with a breakfast table and a simple cozy bed in the other corner. There was no sign of the chain or bolt I had been attached to.
Riley and Finn were sprawled on a sofa, Coach sitting in an easy chair across from them, stern and upright in his posture as always.
“Good evening, Justin. Glad you could join us,” he said, with just a hint of mirth in his voice. “Although tonight, the point is not to join us, but to evade us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This is a hunting cabin. And tonight we’re going hunting,” he announced.
“Hunting for what?” I asked, cluelessly.
“Hunting for faggots,” Finn responded.
“Hunting for you,” the coach confirmed. He seemed younger out of the office – he was casually dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved henley, and I could see how fit he was. Wiry, but well-muscled with strong legs, nice shoulders and arms banded by muscle.
“Help yourself to some water. You’ll want to stay hydrated.”
“I don’t understand…”
“What don’t you understand, ya dumb bitch,” Riley sneered. “We give you a sporting chance with a head start. You take off and try to hide or get back to the main road. We try to find you.”
“The most dangerous game,” Coach said, grimly.
Suddenly something Nick had said early in our lockdown clicked. A primal scene.
“Only we don’t kill you,” Nick explained.
“We take you. Anyway we want. We rape the fuck out of you,” Finn added.
“No limits. No safeword. No out,” Riley was relishing this moment.
Coach Jacobs laid it out for me. “Nick’s had your back. All the guys have. But tonight he doesn’t have to hold back.”
“Unless you manage to get away from us,” Nick said, ominously. He was positively leering. “Have you seen Dexter?” he asked. “Tonight my ‘dark passenger’ gets to ride.”
“All our dark passengers,” Finn confirmed.
My heart was racing, while my mind shattered, a little, trying to formulate a strategy. A way to avoid what was clearly going to be a brutal night. “When do we start?”
“Soon. Relax, though. Drink some water, take an extra bottle with you,” Coach suggested. “We’ll give you 30 minutes from the time you take off. You can go anywhere. There’s acres of woods in every direction. And a road that leads back to civilization. Maybe someone will give you a ride. You can even take your cellphone, but there’s not much signal around here.”
My cellphone was at 30%. I could have kicked myself. If only for the flashlight. Coach read my expression, or my mind.
“Let me see your phone.” I handed it over and he examined it. “I’m not comfortable with how little battery you have left.” He pulled a small iPhone out of his pocket.
“Here. This is my work phone. It’s not locked. In case you run out of juice, or need to call.” I put his phone in the pocket of my running pants and zipped it shut.
I drank a glass of water. And grabbed a small plastic half-liter bottle for the road. Or the woods.
I had my phone in one hand, the bottle of water in the other. I wished I’d thought to bring a small backpack. Coach was one step ahead of me again.
“Here.” He handed me a small backpack for cyclists or hikers. “You could probably use this. Put the phones and the water in there.”
I looked around the cabin one last time. The guys all had the same predatory grin on their faces, like they knew I didn’t stand a chance.
“We’re hunting in pairs,” Coach informed me, just before I headed out. “Finn and Riley in one, Nick and me in the other. So we can cover more ground.”
Not as much as I intend to cover, I thought.
“If we don’t find you within two hours of our start time, which is in 30 minutes, you’re safe,” was the last thing I heard before bolting out the door.
I zipped down the drive, away from the cars parked there. After running about a football field’s length, I started making my way quickly into the woods. There was a full moon, which was a boon. After several minutes, I could see the entire forest pretty well. Ground cover, rocks, fallen logs. I grabbed my phone from the rucksack. 2 minutes had passed. I set a timer for 28 minutes, and muted the phone so it would buzz, not ring, then put it back in the sack.
My heart was still racing, more from adrenalin than the effort of making tracks. Although not literally. I was mindful to step on leaves and rocks, to avoid leaving footprints. I moved as quickly as I could, in the moonlit landscape. My aim was to head for some kind of cover. A rock formation, or maybe a cave.
I thought there was just too much ground for them to cover, even in pairs. If I could get somewhere out of sight, I’d be fine to hunker down and wait out the clock. I’d continue to move for 30 minutes after their start time. There’s no way they could catch up with me in that time, I’d continue to be 30 minutes ahead of them until I stopped. With any luck, by the time anyone was within a mile of me, I’d have an hour or less to wait it out.
My first alarm went off after I’d made it to rockier terrain that offered more cover. I set another alarm for 30 minutes, and continued exploring, quickly covering as much ground as I could. I eventually came to a fairly large outcropping. I checked my phone and I had three minutes before I needed to take cover, per my plan.
I circled around the mini-mountain, and found a tall vertical crevice that opened into a clearing in the middle. It was somewhat covered by several trees, which struck me as auspicious. I thought I heard a twig snap, and my heart leapt into my throat. I quieted my breathing and tried to listen. Nothing.
Inside the clearing, the formation opened up into a chasm or pit, surrounded on all sides by cliff face. It would probably be a free climber’s dream. There were fallen tree trunks here and there, and in one corner, an overhang that provided a perfect shelter, almost like a baseball dugout. I tucked in and pulled out the water bottle I hadn’t given any thought to during my trek. All at once I felt my thirst and wasted no time downing half the bottle in one chug.
I put down the bottle when I thought I heard footsteps. I listened, just hearing a gentle breeze coming through the opening in the chasm. There was no way they could have moved that quickly, much less zeroed in on my location. Not that quickly.
I caught my breath, and just took in the night calmness. Tried not to focus on the idea that I was being hunted. But I couldn’t escape it. Every few minutes, adrenaline would kick in, my throat would tighten, and I felt targeted, in danger.
I checked my phone. I’d been hunkered down for about 20 minutes. They’d been hunting for nearly an hour. I thought I heard a throat clear, outside the entrance to this rock enclosure. And then a voice I didn’t recognize whispering.
“What’s this? Where does this go?” I heard.
The moonlight illuminated the clearing brightly. Still, I felt fairly well-sheltered, out of sight, in darkness afforded by my dugout.
I saw two shadows emerge through the gap leading into the clearing and nearly pissed myself. I couldn’t make out who they were. Not by build. Not by physical features.
They were dressed identically in skintight camo compression pants. Both were hard, mammoth erections swelling their crotches. They were shirtless. Army green synthetic gloves. Their heads were covered in army green wool caps. Their faces, like their torsos, were covered in black, brown and green paint. They looked like commandos in a dystopian porno. Unreal. Created by computer animation.
One of them sniffed in the air. The other laughed.
“Can you smell faggot?” It was Finn, I reasoned, but I couldn’t pick out his features. They looked around, and didn’t seem to notice the recess where I was hiding.
“Nope,” replied Riley. I thought now they looked like rogue soldiers of fortune. Desperate. Ready to unleash their pent-up fury and desire on the first thing they found. They took another look around, then headed back out the way they’d come in.
How the fuck had they even found this spot, I wondered? Would they come back? Should I move? Cool logic told me no, but irrational fear said yes. Find a new hiding place. I listened to cool logic.
They must have moved on, because I heard no more human noises. My breathing had calmed, my heartrate also. I was in a groove, like after the climax of a good play at the theater, when you’re just kind of blissed on the characters and setting as things wrapped up. I was truly enjoying this place I had found. I drank the rest of water, realizing I was still parched.
