“Bugger!” Jeremy Bamber’s foul mood just increased tenfold.
It was an hour and forty minutes since he had coasted into this small lay-by, his electrics having cut out on a country road, miles from civilisation. Only a handful of vehicles had passed by during his long wait for his rescue service, and he had just received the following text on his mobile to add to his ire:
“Due to an unprecedented number of call-outs at this time we apologise for not having been able to attend your break-down sooner. One of our mechanics knows you are now a priority and is working hard to get to you. In the meantime, we have approached local engineers who sometimes work with us at times like this in the hope of expediting your problem at the very earliest . . . blah-de-blah-de blah . . .”
His ‘phone started to vibrate.
“Jem?”
“Vron?”
“Where are you?”
“God knows! The bloody car’s gone and died on me.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Just that! The electrics just went kaput.”
“So, what are you doing?”
“Sitting here twiddling my thumbs for the past hour and a half waiting for the road rescue team.”
“Hour and a half? Oh, poor you! Haven’t you called them back?”
“Just got a text apologising for the delay due to an excessive number of call-outs at this time. They’re trying to send someone local now.”
“Oh well, that’s something then.”
“An hour and a half, though, and no bloody radio to listen to.”
“No radio? Oh no, of course – no electrics! You can’t see anybody who could perhaps help in some way?”
Jeremy twisted in the driving seat to glance around him.
“The only thing showing any interest is a sheep staring at me.”
“Oh well, at least you’re not lonely.”
“Very droll, Veronica. Are you suggesting I engage it in witty badinage?”
“So, you’ve no idea how long you’ll be?”
“Haven’t a bloody clue!”
“Well, in that case, I better get over to Mother’s and explain, and you get there whenever.”
“Yeah, that’s the only option. Hang on! Just a minute! There’s a tow truck coming down the lane. It’s slowing – yes, it’s stopping. Thank God for that!”
“Well done, darling. Hope everything goes all right and that they have you on your way in next to no time. See you at Mum’s. By-ee.”
Jeremy shut off his ‘phone, opened his car door and stepped out into the lane. The tow truck’ engine cut, and two men got out.
“At last. I’ve been waiting over an hour and a half,” he said to them, unable to conceal a tone of irascibility.
“Havin’ a spot of bother with the car, are you then?” one of the men said.
“The electrics just died on me.”
“Electrics, eh? That’s nasty.” He nodded at Jeremy’s mobile. “Have you ‘phoned for help?”
“An hour and a half ago, I told you. They texted back that they couldn’t get to me and so were sending local folk.”
“Right.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Us?”
“Yes. Can you fix it here, or are you going to tow me to your place?”
“Hang on, mate, who d’you think we are? The local car mechanics?”
“Well, yes. Aren’t you?”
“No, we’re not. We wuz just passing and saw you sitting in your BMW, and stopped to see if everything was all right.”
“Oh, bloody hell! Well, it’s very much not all right! I thought you were the cavalry riding to the rescue, and now I’ve got to stick around here waiting for bloody yonks.”
“All right, mate – all right. No need to take that tone with us, just ‘cos we’re not who you thought we were.”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s just that I’m pissed off sitting here all this time and you come along offering no bleeding help at all. Sod all as it just so happens!”
“You’re an ungrateful turd, aren’t you?” said the other man, who had been silent so far. “We stop to see if you need any help and that’s the thanks we get. Abuse – nothing more!”
Jeremy turned to him and with a mocking sarcastic tone addressed him.
“Well, thank you very much indeed for your time and trouble, but I must say that the pair of you don’t look as though you are founts of all knowledge with BMW electrics.”
“Well, we don’t need to be founts of all knowledge to know that BMWs are generally driven by arseholes with loads of money and tiny pricks!” the man responded
Jeremy froze as he then flicked open a knife.
“Open the back door and get in,” he ordered sharply.
Jeremy did so and the man with the knife followed him. The other shot round to the other side of the car and between them they sandwiched Jeremy on the back seat. Jeremy was fixated upon the blade pointing at his jugular.
“First of all, we’ll take that ‘phone of yours, and is that a Rolex watch on your wrist? Yeah, we’ll have that too.
Jeremy was trembling uncontrollably now, and the two men relaxed into the task ahead, realising they definitely had the upper hand.
“Hands on your head and keep them there, unless you want blood on your collar,” the knifeman said as he pressed the point of the blade into Jeremy’s throat.
The other man quickly went through Jeremy’s smart suit jacket pockets, both inner and outer, relieving him of credit and debit cards, wallet and a Mont Blanc fountain pen and matching ballpoint. Trouser pockets were searched next and Jeremy leapt as the intruder’s hand groped and squeezed at his scrotum through the lining of his trouser pocket. It was hard for him to sit still through all that. He met the man’s steady stare and slight challenging smile, unnerved to learn that the groping had been no accident, but a calculated act to unsettle the equilibrium. He tried not to react, but after a moment he broke away from the smugly confrontational stare and looked down.
Crammed as he was between the two men on the back seat, the knife man thrust his other hand into Jeremy’s back trouser pocket, squeezing and groping his buttock at the same time. Trying to move away, he was pressed up against the other man who began to stroke Jeremy’s chest and pinch his nipples through the fabric of his shirt.
“What else have you got?” he yelled at him. “We need more than the crap we’ve got so far.”
“T-t-t-take the c-c-car,” he whispered in a nervous stammer.
“How can we? It’s fucking broken down, you dozy bastard,” and he slapped him across the face hard both backwards and forwards.
A tear rolled down Jeremy’s handsome face and his bottom lip started to quiver.
“Nice shoes,” the other man said. “We’ll have those. Take off your shoes.”
Jeremy stared at him in disbelief.
“And the socks too,” he added with a challenging grin.
The young man, all but broken, leant forward and began to untie his shoelaces. He slipped his feet out of them both and pulled his socks off. Even before he had finished the man was tugging at the collar of his jacket, yelling at Jeremy to shrug it off his shoulders.
“And the tie next. Silk, isn’t it? Nice!”
He helped an almost robotic Jeremy remove the tie.
The other leant forward and seizing the front of Jeremy’s shirt yanked it open sending buttons flying everywhere.
“A used shirt isn’t worth crap no matter how good it is,” he said by way of explanation as he tore it off the defenceless young man and tossed it out of the car window.
Then he grabbed Jeremy by the waistband of his trousers.
“Please – no,” he whispered, palpably trembling and ashen-faced.
“A suit’s no good to us without the trousers, mate. So, take ‘em off.”
With an air of resignation, he did so slowly, and they let him take his time, both of them savouring the moment of his degradation at their hands.
Jeremy was now sitting between the two fully-clothed men dressed in a sleeveless white singlet and a pair of briefs, which he self-consciously tried to conceal with his cupped hands.
The knife blade was pressed to his neck again and the man leant toward his ear and said just three words:
“Vest. Off. Now.”
With a shuddering sigh and an air of fateful inevitability, Jeremy crossed his bare arms and, taking the hem of the garment, pulled it free from his underpants and up his torso, above his nipples, over his head and off.
Conscious that both men were inspecting the bulge in his briefs with much interest, he tried to cover his crotch but was ordered to put his hands up onto the car roof above his head.
Two pairs of eyes scrutinised the thirty-five-year-old’s body in detail, taking in his hairy chest, nicely developed but not overly so. The hair in his armpits was damply matted, the hairs on his legs stood on end and a tuft of pubic hair protruding from the waistband of his underpants showed he was richly and somewhat embarrassingly hirsute. At least, that was the way Jeremy was feeling at this particular moment of compulsory exhibitionism. He leapt and squealed like a startled piglet when one of the men tweaked his nipples.
“Now listen here, matey; we’re going to give you a choice now. If you want, you can blow us both and keep those little briefs of yours. If not, then you need to give us them right now.”
Jeremy looked at them both with horror, taking barely a couple of seconds to do so, and then began to wriggle them off his waist and over his hips, raising himself up slightly as he pushed them below his buttocks and finally off his legs completely.
Jeremy’s penis wasn’t completely drawn up into him, but it was obviously severely shrivelled, he noticed. One of the men grabbed it and gave it a series of masturbatory tugs. Jeremy turned a shocking shade of scarlet.
“No! Not that!! . . .” was his strangled cry of protest at being so manhandled.
“You know, I’m really very disappointed, matey. I felt sure you’d be only too willing to give us both a blow job.”
He fought to pull the hand away that was stroking him, but the other man took hold and pumped him hard.
“No, no, ple-e-a-a-se,” he begged.
Was he beginning to rise to the occasion? He was horrified at the unthinkable. He had certainly given the clearest impression he didn’t like to have them grabbing at his cock like that, he thought, and equally appeared to strongly resent both men’s implication that he was gay. But at the same time, he was distinctly unsettled that they seemed to take it for granted he was. For a foolish moment he felt he wanted to yell out that he was a married man but resisted the urge.
Both men then opened their doors and got out. They took with them Jeremy’s ‘phone, watch, pens, wallet, cash, cards, shoes and all his clothing, even gathering up the discarded shirt and carried everything over to their truck. They walked back up to the passenger side of the BMW and ordered him out.
Just at that moment a car went by and Jeremy flinched and shrank back, his hands clutching at his naked groin. Grabbing him by the ankles, they hauled him out of the vehicle.
“What are you covering up your cock and balls for? We both had our hands all over your tackle just a minute or so ago,” the knifeman laughed. “And, what’s more, you were beginning to like it, weren’t you?”
One they had him out of the door, they hit the door locks and slammed both doors shut. And they left him, cowering there behind the offside of his car, stark bollock naked in the middle of nowhere, waiting for who knew who to turn up, to show up in a tow truck. And as they drove away giving him a wave, they laughed to see Jeremy Bamber, still clutching pathetically at himself, break down into shuddering tears.
