EthanJay22
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2010
- Messages
- 208
- Location
- New England
Starting off to assure this all fiction, all in the interest of entertainment. I've been inspired by many of you and some of your historical posts: Stories, videos, pictures.
Sunday Afternoon: Joe - The Family Man
Joe dines with the family in his upper-middle-class suburban home. Wife and kids and the regular extended family are there, as always. Conversations and laughter overlap on topics of mundane intrigue, the past the present and all things to come.
A fortyish guy, Joe is moderately overweight and twice as full of life. A man of healthy appetites, he has two servings of both dinner and dessert. All the while no matter who he speaks to, be it is wife, his son, either of his daughters, his in-laws, he has an indelible talent for getting right on someone's level, a man of undisputed charm.
Monday Afternoon: Joe - The Ace Salesman
After an early morning flight, over eight hundred miles from home, he stands before a board room. Well dressed and well coiffed he performs to a captivated audience, if not a captive one. He knows he'll close the deal, for he always does.
He can't help but notice the young lady in the front row, she looks at him with a hunger in her eyes that rivals that of so many gals before her. Irristable in a mysterious way, he's quite ordinary looking at first glance but he's got an aura thats all but bewitching.
He also fails to detect the special attention of another person, this one in the back row, gazing at him with similarly fercious intensity.
He finishes to thunderous applause.
Tuesday Afternoon: Joe -- The Rascal
He roles in the hotel sheets with her as the muffled sound of jets intermittently pass by overhead. Her name is Barbara and they've been naked and at it for hours, ever since brunch. As he comes off his third explosive release of tension he slips out her easy and collapses beside her, confident she's as wrecked as he is.
They lay side by side and gaze up at the whirring ceiling fan. She talks of getting together again next time he's in town, he agrees so easily, without giving himself away. His plan is clearly never to see her again, after all he is a married man.
He rolls out of bed quickly, she admires his husky naked body as he pulls on his pants. He tells her he'll be late, flight at three-thirty and oh, how airports are these days.
Ten minutes later they're marching through the hotel lobby looking as dignified as possible, but it's written all over them and they both know that people, the hotel staff at the very least, know good and well what they've been up to. He smirks, she giggles, they straighten out. Already checked out they head directy to the parking garage.
He kisses her oh so quickly at her car, a mere wet brush of the lips, a casual goodbye. As he walks away she looks after him with a frustrating mix of desire and contempt and comes back down to earth after he rounds the corner.
Two flights down to P4 and he walks toward his rental car parked between two dark vans. He considers calling the wife, giving her an update on his ETA. He draws his phone from his pocket and begins punching buttons, and stopping at the driver's side door, he is only too off gaurd for what happens next.
A well rehearsed plan unfolds at once. A van door slides open. A wet rag goes over his mouth and nose as he tries to spin around. He sucks in air so acrid, the backs of his knees are kicked in, he sways backward and is heaved up off the ground and into the vehicle, with a rocking aftermath.
On the floor he looks up in confusion and some terror as faces swirl above him...he drifts away to a gentle oblivion. The keys, phone, and breifcase he'd dropped are quickly collected. The door to the van closes and the engine starts, the vehicle inconspicuously pulls away.
They strip their captive bare as he sleeps, stuffing his garments in a bag, His wallet is emptied of cash alone, then it and his other effects are tossed in the bag to join his clothes, all set for the incinerator. They play with him happily as the vehicle rolls on arriving a scant hour later at a vacant lot skirted by seemingly deserted mills. A garage door opens in one and the van disappears into a black square of darkness.
He is harnassed at once, in such a fashion, knees at his chest and ankles behind his years.
He wakes to a plunge of a needle in his neck, alert now, but feeling no pain. He glances around, many men standing fully dressed in contrast with his nakedness. Even as he tries to cry out, "What the fuck?!", a ball gag stifles his half hearted attempt at demanding to be released.
The unthinkable happens next, as one steps up, unzips, withdraws a turgid member and plunges into his relaxed and easy entrance at once. In an instant, the "virginity" he might have galdly taken to his grave is ended. His eyes bulge as he is penetrated without any chance of resistance.
After the first man's mechanical attentions come to an essentially normal gushing finality which Joe feels deep inside, another man quickly follows, then another then another. Two more.
This seems to go on for hours, though his perceptions of time are twisted and fragmented. Through it all he notices one of his captors sits far off to the side at a computer terminal, punching keys and clicking a mouse, as if performing some tedious business, unaware of the gang rape going on in close proximity.
In the end he is left swaying, dripping, believing he's been abandoned altogether. He closes his eyes and absorbs what has happened. He definitely feels violated but worse he feels almost as though he enjoyed it. His head is all wrong, his body insanely euphoric. He drifts in and out of sleep for a seemingly brief stint of time, constantly interrupted and all but forced to drink a bottle of water each time. He becomes aware he's been unbound, layed out on a cot of sorts, allowed to pee into one of those hospital portable urinals as often as he feels the need to go.
Wednesday Afternoon: Joe -- The Guy in the Trunk
He wakes with a start as bright sunlight hits him. Squinting he attempts to move only to find he his bound and tied and gagged. Fear takes him over quickly as he recalls details of his recent defilement. He's as lucid as he'd been in the hotel the day before.
He squirms and looks up at the faces looking down on him. All new as far as he can tell, none of the rapists seem to be among these three guys. He does, however, recognize one from his sales presentation. The guy smiles at him, only too happy to be recognized. With his wits about him he starts to assess his predicament and of all aspects, one gives more dread than any other. All of these men have had no problem with him seeing their faces, which leads him to an awful conclusion, they are not at all worried he'll ever describe any of them to authorites.
He struggles fiercly but in futility as he his hoisted out of the car and placed curiously on a long pole at the bindings of his wrists and ankles, then carried across a dirt drive way toward a typical Norman Rockwell farm house.
Once inside he his taken to a room in the rear of the house, removed from the pole and deposited on the floor in a surprisingly gentle fashion. He watches and listens closely as men interact nearby. The one he recognizes from the sales meeting keeps walking around him, an expression of sheer approval on his face. He crosses back to the other two gentlemen, removes what looks like a wad of cash from his pants pocket and hands it to one of them, and then they are both gone.
Joe whimpers now, into his gag so soggy with sweat and saliva. He just wants to know what the hell is happening and why it's happening to him.
As if sensing this, the remaining captor pulls up a chair.
"Think you're being punished don't you?", the man asks.
Feeling unable to lie, he nods, for in that moment he realizes this all might have something to do with...what's her name.
"I know you're a married man, and you fucked that woman, and I don't care. I also don't know or care what my associates may have done with you when they first picked you up but I'm guessing it an entirely new experience for you."
He spoke so clearly, an educated man no doubt but also one of a certain social class. Being a salesman Joe had met many people over the years and could usually peg people very accurately. At least up to the point that is this side of madness that is.
"I pick out my...subject...and they collect it for me. My only demand as that they don't damage the goods, and for my purposes, you have been delivered in grade A condition."
He continued, "You are one in a million, and I cannot tell you how happy I am to have you and how happy I'll be to share you. Oh and don't worry about any more sexual abuse, you have to worry about any more of that. I can't tell you anything more, you'll learn soon enough what you're here for. Maybe you know already."
He dropped it right there, so cryptically, and stood and walked away.
Joe looks around, hears another voice approching him.
"This gonna be out of his system in time?", the new voice says.
"Oh yes, by tomorrow he'll be clean. By the way your ready for the other matter, correct?"
"Yes, sir. I'll give him some time to get under before I get to that, like always. Make's it all go easier."
They were right on him now. He saw a new guy, the owner of the new voice, a syringe in hand. Not again! The guy bends down toward him, he cranes his neck way defensively only to feel the needle plunge into one of his butt cheeks.
"Right.", the first man says in agreement with the last comment by the other.
Sunday Afternoon: Joe - The Family Man
Joe dines with the family in his upper-middle-class suburban home. Wife and kids and the regular extended family are there, as always. Conversations and laughter overlap on topics of mundane intrigue, the past the present and all things to come.
A fortyish guy, Joe is moderately overweight and twice as full of life. A man of healthy appetites, he has two servings of both dinner and dessert. All the while no matter who he speaks to, be it is wife, his son, either of his daughters, his in-laws, he has an indelible talent for getting right on someone's level, a man of undisputed charm.
Monday Afternoon: Joe - The Ace Salesman
After an early morning flight, over eight hundred miles from home, he stands before a board room. Well dressed and well coiffed he performs to a captivated audience, if not a captive one. He knows he'll close the deal, for he always does.
He can't help but notice the young lady in the front row, she looks at him with a hunger in her eyes that rivals that of so many gals before her. Irristable in a mysterious way, he's quite ordinary looking at first glance but he's got an aura thats all but bewitching.
He also fails to detect the special attention of another person, this one in the back row, gazing at him with similarly fercious intensity.
He finishes to thunderous applause.
Tuesday Afternoon: Joe -- The Rascal
He roles in the hotel sheets with her as the muffled sound of jets intermittently pass by overhead. Her name is Barbara and they've been naked and at it for hours, ever since brunch. As he comes off his third explosive release of tension he slips out her easy and collapses beside her, confident she's as wrecked as he is.
They lay side by side and gaze up at the whirring ceiling fan. She talks of getting together again next time he's in town, he agrees so easily, without giving himself away. His plan is clearly never to see her again, after all he is a married man.
He rolls out of bed quickly, she admires his husky naked body as he pulls on his pants. He tells her he'll be late, flight at three-thirty and oh, how airports are these days.
Ten minutes later they're marching through the hotel lobby looking as dignified as possible, but it's written all over them and they both know that people, the hotel staff at the very least, know good and well what they've been up to. He smirks, she giggles, they straighten out. Already checked out they head directy to the parking garage.
He kisses her oh so quickly at her car, a mere wet brush of the lips, a casual goodbye. As he walks away she looks after him with a frustrating mix of desire and contempt and comes back down to earth after he rounds the corner.
Two flights down to P4 and he walks toward his rental car parked between two dark vans. He considers calling the wife, giving her an update on his ETA. He draws his phone from his pocket and begins punching buttons, and stopping at the driver's side door, he is only too off gaurd for what happens next.
A well rehearsed plan unfolds at once. A van door slides open. A wet rag goes over his mouth and nose as he tries to spin around. He sucks in air so acrid, the backs of his knees are kicked in, he sways backward and is heaved up off the ground and into the vehicle, with a rocking aftermath.
On the floor he looks up in confusion and some terror as faces swirl above him...he drifts away to a gentle oblivion. The keys, phone, and breifcase he'd dropped are quickly collected. The door to the van closes and the engine starts, the vehicle inconspicuously pulls away.
They strip their captive bare as he sleeps, stuffing his garments in a bag, His wallet is emptied of cash alone, then it and his other effects are tossed in the bag to join his clothes, all set for the incinerator. They play with him happily as the vehicle rolls on arriving a scant hour later at a vacant lot skirted by seemingly deserted mills. A garage door opens in one and the van disappears into a black square of darkness.
He is harnassed at once, in such a fashion, knees at his chest and ankles behind his years.
He wakes to a plunge of a needle in his neck, alert now, but feeling no pain. He glances around, many men standing fully dressed in contrast with his nakedness. Even as he tries to cry out, "What the fuck?!", a ball gag stifles his half hearted attempt at demanding to be released.
The unthinkable happens next, as one steps up, unzips, withdraws a turgid member and plunges into his relaxed and easy entrance at once. In an instant, the "virginity" he might have galdly taken to his grave is ended. His eyes bulge as he is penetrated without any chance of resistance.
After the first man's mechanical attentions come to an essentially normal gushing finality which Joe feels deep inside, another man quickly follows, then another then another. Two more.
This seems to go on for hours, though his perceptions of time are twisted and fragmented. Through it all he notices one of his captors sits far off to the side at a computer terminal, punching keys and clicking a mouse, as if performing some tedious business, unaware of the gang rape going on in close proximity.
In the end he is left swaying, dripping, believing he's been abandoned altogether. He closes his eyes and absorbs what has happened. He definitely feels violated but worse he feels almost as though he enjoyed it. His head is all wrong, his body insanely euphoric. He drifts in and out of sleep for a seemingly brief stint of time, constantly interrupted and all but forced to drink a bottle of water each time. He becomes aware he's been unbound, layed out on a cot of sorts, allowed to pee into one of those hospital portable urinals as often as he feels the need to go.
Wednesday Afternoon: Joe -- The Guy in the Trunk
He wakes with a start as bright sunlight hits him. Squinting he attempts to move only to find he his bound and tied and gagged. Fear takes him over quickly as he recalls details of his recent defilement. He's as lucid as he'd been in the hotel the day before.
He squirms and looks up at the faces looking down on him. All new as far as he can tell, none of the rapists seem to be among these three guys. He does, however, recognize one from his sales presentation. The guy smiles at him, only too happy to be recognized. With his wits about him he starts to assess his predicament and of all aspects, one gives more dread than any other. All of these men have had no problem with him seeing their faces, which leads him to an awful conclusion, they are not at all worried he'll ever describe any of them to authorites.
He struggles fiercly but in futility as he his hoisted out of the car and placed curiously on a long pole at the bindings of his wrists and ankles, then carried across a dirt drive way toward a typical Norman Rockwell farm house.
Once inside he his taken to a room in the rear of the house, removed from the pole and deposited on the floor in a surprisingly gentle fashion. He watches and listens closely as men interact nearby. The one he recognizes from the sales meeting keeps walking around him, an expression of sheer approval on his face. He crosses back to the other two gentlemen, removes what looks like a wad of cash from his pants pocket and hands it to one of them, and then they are both gone.
Joe whimpers now, into his gag so soggy with sweat and saliva. He just wants to know what the hell is happening and why it's happening to him.
As if sensing this, the remaining captor pulls up a chair.
"Think you're being punished don't you?", the man asks.
Feeling unable to lie, he nods, for in that moment he realizes this all might have something to do with...what's her name.
"I know you're a married man, and you fucked that woman, and I don't care. I also don't know or care what my associates may have done with you when they first picked you up but I'm guessing it an entirely new experience for you."
He spoke so clearly, an educated man no doubt but also one of a certain social class. Being a salesman Joe had met many people over the years and could usually peg people very accurately. At least up to the point that is this side of madness that is.
"I pick out my...subject...and they collect it for me. My only demand as that they don't damage the goods, and for my purposes, you have been delivered in grade A condition."
He continued, "You are one in a million, and I cannot tell you how happy I am to have you and how happy I'll be to share you. Oh and don't worry about any more sexual abuse, you have to worry about any more of that. I can't tell you anything more, you'll learn soon enough what you're here for. Maybe you know already."
He dropped it right there, so cryptically, and stood and walked away.
Joe looks around, hears another voice approching him.
"This gonna be out of his system in time?", the new voice says.
"Oh yes, by tomorrow he'll be clean. By the way your ready for the other matter, correct?"
"Yes, sir. I'll give him some time to get under before I get to that, like always. Make's it all go easier."
They were right on him now. He saw a new guy, the owner of the new voice, a syringe in hand. Not again! The guy bends down toward him, he cranes his neck way defensively only to feel the needle plunge into one of his butt cheeks.
"Right.", the first man says in agreement with the last comment by the other.
