TallBlond1
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2012
- Messages
- 184
- Location
- Cleveland, Ohio
National Brotherhood Week
by Steve Geary
For many hours as two young men journeyed south in their car, they watched the temperatures climb and the seasons roll back. They’d shucked off their winter coats and now wore mere T-shirts. What a joy to see green trees in February!
Night had descended. To keep himself awake as he drove, Drew turned the radio up loud. Finally, the sign he’d been waiting for appeared on the country road:
Drew looked over at his buddy Parker and shook him gently. “Hey, pal, wake up. We’re almost there.”
Parker grunted and stirred, his head filled with cobwebs. His body ached. Sitting in a car for hours can wreak havoc on anyone, particularly a young man accustomed to physical activity. He rubbed his eyes and, to the best of his ability in such a cramped space, stretched his lean and muscular frame, fighting his way back to consciousness. “Thank God!” he said. “I was able to sleep.”
Drew chuckled. “Yeah, you got a good two hours’ worth in, bro. You almost looked dead there with your eyes closed and your mouth half-open!”
Parker managed a sleepy smile, only to feel a sudden pain in his shin. “Oh, DAMN!” he cried. “Shit, a cramp! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He laughed from the discomfort, rubbed his shin and slammed his foot against the car floor to relieve the pressure. “I hate pain!”
His buddy howled with laughter as the anguish comically contorted Parker’s face. Finally, it ended. Parker managed a sigh of relief. He shook his head at his friend and breathed, “Well, damn. I sure am wide awake now.”
“Good thing,” Drew replied. “Five more minutes and we’ll be at my Dad’s workplace. Mom tells me he’s quite a character. We want you fully alert when you interview him.”
“Yeah,” Parker replied. He stretched a bit more, then looked around for his note pad, pen, and digital recorder.
They were both journalism majors wrapping up their Senior year in college. It had been a long, difficult four years, and everything felt like it was building up, rather than winding down, to their graduation. With help from Drew’s Dad, Parker hoped that his college thesis would be a winner.
“Tell me again,” Drew asked. “What are you going to call this one?”
“‘Louisiana Stories’,” Parker said proudly. “National Brotherhood Week’s coming up. I want to hear firsthand the southern perspective on racial tensions of the 1960s. Your Dad’s pretty young, but because he’s a sheriff I’ll bet he knows lots of people on both sides of the issue, living and deceased.”
“Yeah, he must,” Drew agreed. There was a moment of silence. “But I’ve gotta remind you, I don’t know him well. Haven’t seen him since I was two. It was everything I could do to get Mom to give me his phone number.” He paused. “I sure hope he likes me. I’ve always wanted a father to approve of me.”
Parker smiled. “I appreciate that, Drew. No matter what, my thesis has been a great excuse for us to take a fun trip!”
Drew looked at his friend fondly. Although opposites in many ways, they had their similarities and they’d come to know each other well. Their frames were similar and they were of the same height. For years, they’d hung out, played tennis, gotten high, and gone out on double dates. You can’t do all that without learning to know and love your best buddy.
Drew’s eyes found the police station. “Hey, we’re here,” he said, pulling his car into the parking lot.
Parker was relieved. “'Bout time.”
Drew turned to his pal. “Parker,” he pleaded, “let me spend a moment with him on my own. I think he and I both need that. Then I’ll come to the door and get you, okay?”
Parker shrugged. “Fine with me, but I sure as hell am getting out of this damned car!”
Drew tussled his friend’s hair. “Don’t blame you a bit!” he laughed. He hoisted himself up and got out. “Damn, standing feels good.” Parker happily waved him on as Drew walked into the station.
The place was swarming with uniformed muscle men who looked like they’d shot steroids and hit up the gym twenty-four hours a day. Drew didn’t really know what to look for, other than the fact that his father was in his late thirties. Drew, his Mom finally admitted, had been the result of a date rape while she was a mere sophomore in high school, and it said something about his Dad’s charm that she’d stuck by him throughout her teen years.
“Whaddaya need, kid?” a particularly well-built guy with steel blue eyes and a flattop asked. The man wore a short-sleeved uniform with a sheriff’s badge on his chest. His shoulders were like cement blocks. The face was angularly chiseled in a way that would’ve impressed Burt Lancaster.
“I - I’m looking for my Dad,” Drew momentarily stuttered.
The stranger looked at him quizzically. “Are you Drew?”
Drew burst into a huge smile. “Fuck,” he said, “if you’re my father, I’ve sure got great genes!”
His Dad laughed. “Just call me Rip,” he said as he hugged his son. “Hey, guys, looky here! It’s another one’a my boys!”
Soon a half-dozen policemen were walking over, smiling as they admired both men, patting them both on the backs. Drew could barely contain himself; having so many musclemen pay attention to him inflated his ego. He could tell they were sizing him up and liked what they saw.
A muscular cop in a leather jacket approached Drew as he extended his hand. He looked like he’d just sauntered in from patrolling the streets on a motorcycle. “I’m Pete,” he said. “And I kin see the family resemblance! Funny, we met some’a the others but he hadn’t tole us ‘bout you yet.” His eyes narrowed sexily as he took in the sight of the strapping youth.
“Fuck, Dad, how many brothers have I got?” Drew laughed.
“Lost count, kid,” Rip chuckled. “I had me a pretty wild youth, and I got me the child support payments to prove it!” He shrugged. “Damn, yer lookin’ good. Let’s sit down at my desk, boy -- ya gotta make yerself at home while yer here.”
As his smiling coworkers went back to their duties, Rip lit up a Marlboro and grinned as he lowered his muscled ass into a chair. He put his feet up on his desk with one arm behind his head. Drew could see a trickling of armpit hair creeping out from just under the lower edge of the short-sleeved shirt. He was relieved to see how friendly his Dad was. “It was a long drive, Pop. It’s so good being with you.”
“I know,” Rip replied. “Been twenty years since I last saw ya. Can’t believe ya drove all this way. Where’s yer buddy?"
“He’s out in the car. I told him I wanted a moment with my Pop first.”
“Good thinkin’, son.” Rip reached into a small refrigerator by his chair and tossed his son a beer. “Ya know, you was jus’ a babe last time I saw ya, and now yer a young man ‘bout to grad-i-ate from college. Look at ya, all grown up. Time flies.”
Drew smiled modestly. “Well, I work out some. But nothing like you.”
“You could look jes’ like me if you wanna.” Rip flashed his boy a pearly white grin.
Drew smiled yet again. After all this time, it felt good to finally have a father, and to be wanted. “Well, sir, don’t hold your breath.”
“Again, just call me Rip. Tell me, whatcha gonna do with yerself now that yer gonna grad-i-ate? What are yer dreams?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there,” Drew answered.
“C’mon, boy, whatcha wanna do with yourself? Maybe some police work?”
“Well, I’m a journalism major, and I’ve taken a number of Humanities classes. Whatever I do, I want to help bring peace to the world,” Drew replied thoughtfully.
Rip guffawed. “Ya want world peace. Sounds like you’s wantin’ to be Miss America!”
He snuffed out his cigarette. “Well, anyways -- I’m the man who’s supposed to be gettin’ interviewed. Let’s go get your buddy.” He wrapped his arm around his boy’s shoulder and they made their way to the front door. Throughout the short journey, the other cops acknowledged them and smiled. No doubt about it; father and son looked good together.
Parker was leaning against the car waiting as the two men appeared at the entrance. He grinned from ear to ear as Drew motioned for him to come on in.
Rip’s hand suddenly grasped his son’s shoulder hard. “Drew,” he said sternly. “Your buddy’s a nigger.”
Drew looked over at his Dad. “Is that a problem, Rip?”
Rip paused for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he smiled. “Nah -- not a problem. We can work with it. No big deal.” He bit his lip and reached out his hand as Parker approached. “I’m Rip,” he said.
“Glad to meet you, sir!” Parker smiled. Parker’s handsome eyes twinkled. He could see the family resemblance.
“C’mon in,” Rip said. “Let’s do this damn interview.”
As the men walked back to Rip’s desk, Drew casually watched the other policemen’s facial expressions. Was there a subtle change this time around? The cops would look up smiling, but then something would happen; for just an instant, were their expressions subtly freezing up as their eyes took in his friend?
Drew wondered if his buddy noticed it, but Parker seemed oblivious. Well, he reasoned, Parker had probably grown used to it after a lifetime of being black. Besides, maybe Drew was just imagining it.
Rip threw himself into his chair again as Parker set up his recorder. “OK, shoot, boy,” Rip said, looking at Parker suspiciously. “I'll take any fuckin’ question ya got.”
“Thank you, sir,” Parker replied as he pressed the record button. “For the record, what is your name and title here, sir?”
“John Heilbronner. They call me Rip. I’m both the police sergeant an’ mayor of Lucifer, Louisiana.”
“Thank you, sir. Would you say that through the years Lucifer has seen its share of racial tension?"
“You bet,” Rip replied. “We’s mighty impressed with our little town. Lucifer used to be one’a the white supremacist capitals of the South. This very building was one of the KKK’s main headquarters.”
“Are you joking?!” Parker couldn’t hide his pleasant surprise. He’d struck pay dirt.
“I don’t joke ‘bout these things,” Rip replied sternly. “Down in the basement we’s got shit that fer old time’s sake we keep purdy much the way it all used to be. I could show ya if ya’d like.”
The boys looked at each other, barely able to mask their enthusiasm.
“You bet!” they cried.
“OK, follow me.” Rip nodded to a couple of his coworkers. The cops nodded, unblinking, with silent understanding.
Rather than a stairwell at the back of the station, there was a hidden iron slab in the floor covered by a rug. Rip tossed the rug to the side and lifted the slab by way of a metal ring.
Only the top rungs of a tall ladder were visible. It led down into a deep hole. Rip swung a leg over the ladder and edged his body down into the darkness. After hitting a light switch that flipped on a dim 15-watt bulb, he motioned for the boys to come down.
The basement took both young men’s breaths away. It looked like a huge, ambitiously constructed torture chamber. Although the center of the floor was bare, there were several strange machines against some of the walls, a number of cages and many pieces of dangerous looking equipment. Something that looked like an electric chair had a sign on the side which read “Ol’ Sparky”. There were guns, knives, and nooses. Some wall corners were blemished with dark splatterings that may have been dried blood. The palpable stench of long ago horrors permeated the room. Imagining the many atrocities that may have occurred here over the years almost made Drew sick to his stomach. “Shit,” he murmured.
“It’s somethin’ else, ain’t it?” Rip said proudly. “Maybe someday they’ll make this a fuckin’ museum. We done added a few new things, too, to complete the collection.”
Parker was speechless. He realized he didn’t know where to continue with his interview. He had no idea as to what some of the machinery actually did.
“What’s this thing?” Drew asked.
“Here, I’ll show ya,” Rip said. “Stand up against the pole, kid, an’ you’ll see how it works.” Rip positioned Drew’s body so he was facing out, away from the post. A metal piece was then brought around Drew’s neck and clamped into place. “This is called a garrote,” Rip explained. “Real popular in Spain. It was a means of executin’ a victim, strangling’ ‘im without actually hangin’ ‘im from some tree. Here, you’ll see.”
Drew noticed a couple more policemen making their way down the ladder as Rip adjusted the back side of the heavy metal post. “OK, now back here there’s a big screw,” Rip explained. “As I turn a crank, the screw tightens an’ the metal piece surroundin’ yer neck comes in closer. See?”
He turned the crank a couple of times. The heavy metal trapped Drew’s neck into place. It made his heart race to imagine how a victim must have felt, unable to move. Already, he could barely budge. He felt claustrophobic. “Wow, that’s, uh, cool,” he said uncomfortably.
“Yep, these was fuckin’ amazin’ death instruments, boy. Real effective. See, as that metal pipe digs into the neck, it crushes the windpipe. If the executioner has real strong arms like me, the metal works its way through the neck, right up to the post. Of course, the guy’s oxygen’s cut off long before that.”
Parker’s curiosity had kicked in. “Pretty scary,” he said. He came over to watch as Drew shuddered.
“Yeah, see how tight it can start to feel around yer neck,” Rip replied. He turned the screw once more, and abruptly, the pressure against Drew’s adam’s apple was beyond uncomfortable. “DAMN!” Drew squirmed, only slightly able to move his neck away from the pressure on his larynx. “This is NASTY.”
“Yep. We killed us lotsa Louisiana niggers with this contraption.”
“EXCUUUSE me?” It was Parker. Solemn and mostly silent until now, he’d finally found his voice. “Did you just use the ‘N’ word?”
Rip’s face hardened as he looked at his son’s friend. “Damn right I did -- nigger.”
Parker’s jaw dropped. “SIR!” He asserted quite emphatically. “This is the twenty-first century! Back where I come from, that’s a fighting word, and I’m appalled to hear a relative of my good friend Drew use it.” He looked Drew’s father in the eye. Only then did he notice the assortment of muscle-bound policemen converging on him from the shadows.
Rip’s hand instantly wrapped itself around Parker’s neck, choking him. Loudly, he spat a thick wad of saliva into Parker’s face. “Listen, baboon, you northern choc’lit covered marshmallows ain’t in no position ta tell us men of Lucifer how to behave.” He tossed Parker at Pete and the other men. “Have at ‘im, guys.”
It happened so quickly, neither boy had a chance to react. The policeman Pete grabbed the young colored man in a neck hold as two other cops pulled off his clothes. Both boys yelled. Parker screamed as he tried to fend off his many attackers. Strong as he was, he was no match for a gang of muscle-bound cops. Bit by bit his sinewy brown body was revealed. His arms were handcuffed above his head to the bars of a cage.
Drew was still trapped, his neck caught in the garrote’s vise grip. All he could do was waste energy kicking his feet helplessly at the air. He stopped yelling when he saw Parker’s bikini underwear. Underneath Parker’s perfect little 30”-inch waist, a huge bulge pressed at the garment. The beginnings of a thick black bush sprouted over the top of the waistband. When the bikini was torn off, Drew caught his first glimpse of his buddy’s black cock -- it must have been a foot long, with a thick, coarse forest of pubic hair framing it. “Oh, shit,” he thought. “No wonder my sister was so crazy about him.”
“You can’t hold me like this,” Parker screamed. “I want my lawyer. I have the right to a phone call!”
“Stupid ape, you ain’t got no rights whatsoevah here in Lucifer,” Rip replied angrily. “An’ let me tell ya, we don’ take too kindly to strangers comin’ down here wantin’ to write ‘bout us, neither.”
“Dad, don’t punish him, punish me!” Drew cried. “It was I who brought him down. Me -- your son!”
Rip pointed a finger at his offspring. “Can it with the fake heroics, nigger lover. Pete, do your thing. I’m gonna have me a smoke.” He sat in Ol’ Sparky and stuck a Marlboro in his mouth, lighting up with pleasure as he watched the scene unfold before him.
“This is not funny!” Parker shouted. “My arms hurt. I hate pain! Let me loose!”
“Pain is somethin’ yer gonna git to know real good, ya piece of shit,” Pete said as he pulled out a bottle of Mace. “We’re gonna teach ya some manners. First lesson is that you’s gotta call me sir.”
“Like HELL I will!” Parker retorted.
“Dammit, Wool Head, yer gonna learn the hard way then. Now look at me with them purdy brown eyes.” Parker kept his head down, but that didn’t stop Pete. He grabbed Parker’s chin, lifted it high and sent a hefty dose of Mace directly into Parker’s face.
“AWWGGGGH!!!” Parker screamed. His eyes felt like they were on fire. “It hurts, it hurts!” All the cops laughed as tears from his bloodshot eyes streamed down his face.
“Call me Sir, boy!” Pete commanded. “Or I’ll fry yer eyeballs.”
“Sir, Sir!” Parker shouted.
“Not good enough,” Pete replied. “From now on, yer gonna talk to me as tho you wuz some dumb Civil War slave whore. Call me Suh!”
“Yes, SUH! Anything y’all says, SUH!” Parker cried.
“See how easy we can break 'em?" Pete said to Drew. “Underneath that edjucated facade, they’s all the same. Even the best of ‘em, jes’ gotta have some sense knocked into 'em good and plenty an’ their heritage comes right back.”
“Please don’t hurt him anymore,” Drew cried. “He hates pain. He can’t stand being hurt!”
“Hell, boy, we’s only jus’ begun.” Pete motioned for another cop to have some fun. “Go for it, Steve.”
Parker’s nuts looked to be golf-ball sized as they hung in his large cum sack. Steve looked like a grinning, hungry animal as he kicked back his foot and slammed it between Parker’s legs. The boy’s eyes and jaw flew open, showing his captors his tongue and perfect white teeth. Parker howled deliriously as the pain ravaged his brain. He could barely breathe. He wanted to pass out. Finally, the words came. “Massa Drew, Massa Drew! I think they’s killin’ me. Help!”
Rip leapt from his chair. “Oh, you want Drew to help us kill ya, do ya, Pube Head? Tell ya what, Pete -- uncuff him from those bars.” He paused for effect and pulled some padded locking leather restraints from the ceiling. “Tie his wrists an’ ankles to these.”
All the cops laughed. They knew what was coming. Parker was to get his first taste of bondage.
Scared shitless, Parker babbled incoherently as they removed the two handcuffs only to replace them with four restraints. Rip smiled over at Drew. “Don’t be fooled by his tears, son,” he said. “Darkies luv gettin’ this done to ‘em.”
Parker’s muscular arms were tightly pulled back behind him and hoisted up toward the ceiling, causing extreme pressure on his rotator cuffs. He screamed even louder than before. Soon his ankles were likewise tightly strapped. His smooth body sweated profusely as it hung from the ceiling.
That’s when Rip pulled out the padded sawhorse. Attached to the seat was a large, thick rubber dildo plug. Straps were wrapped around Parker’s knee joints and then pulled outward, forcing the gluteal muscles to part. His butt hole was positioned directly over the dangerous looking dildo.
“That’s fifteen inches of fat rod underneath you, nigger,” Rip said. The men carefully guided Parker’s body down as the restraints from the ceiling were lowered. Parker was screaming his head off as his black asslips touched the tip of the fat butt plug.
“Lawdy, Lawdy!” he cried. “Please don’t!”
Drew couldn’t bear to look as Pete hissed in Parker’s ear. “All ya have to do is sink down, boy. Sit down on the sawhorse and we’ll release the tension on your arms.”
There was nothing Parker could do. The pressure against his asshole was getting more and more severe. His face was a study of contrasting painful expressions. He felt his virgin ass start to buckle under the assault. Suddenly, the enormous dildo’s cockhead broke through the sphincter with a POP!
Parker shrieked. “Lawd, Lawd! Help me, Massa Drew, help me!”
All the cops snickered as they started taking off their clothes. This was going to be fun. One of the naked officers stroked his hefty dick as he grabbed a flogger of multi-strapped leather cords. He flogged the boy across his chest, back, and abdominals. Parker screamed in anguish as bruises and oozing red stripes instantly appeared on his otherwise perfect physique.
Rip and Pete then hoisted the chains up and down on Parker’s arms, causing the boy to react like a puppet on a string. His body danced like a rag doll. “Dance, Bojangles, dance!” the cops chanted. Parker’s ass rode up and down the thick rubber cockhead. As Parker’s innards were violated, his large, hairy cock became fully hard, bobbing up and down and making circles in the air. Pre-cum oozed from the huge slit in the middle of his brown cock-head.
Gravity was doing the work for Lucifer’s upholders of the law. More and more dildo embedded itself in Parker’s bowels -- four inches, six, then eight. Soon, ten inches of cockshaft were raping the boy’s ass, pushing his guts uncomfortably upward.
Parker’s nervous system short-circuited. He was blabbering pure gibberish. Sweat poured from his armpits. Saliva drooled from his open mouth. His eyes glazed over. Soon, Parker’s awkwardly-splayed glute muscles made contact with the padded seat of the sawhorse. His body was entirely impaled on fifteen inches of thick dildo.
A stiff, wide leather dog collar was padlocked around his throat. A chain stretched upward from the back of the collar to the rafters above. Steve pulled on the chain, keeping Parker from leaning too much in any direction.
Pete flipped a motorized switch underneath the sawhorse, causing the dildo to randomly vibrate deep inside the boy’s black ass. New moans emanated from Parker’s throat as his insides were pulverized. His bloated penis twitched involuntarily as his mouth started to foam.
“You're killing him,” Drew whimpered helplessly.
“Kid, we’re just edjy-catin’ ‘im!" It was his Dad talking. “He wanted ta know ‘bout racial tensions. We’re lettin’ ‘im learn ‘em first-hand!”
Even though Parker was in agony, a body can have a mind of its own. Parker’s cock started bouncing up and down with excitement. It was now almost as big and dangerous looking as the nasty dildo. Just as Parker screamed, his cock sent buckets of black sperm careening every which direction through the air. “See, boy? TOL’ ya niggers git off on bein’ abused,” Rip roared with laughter. All Drew needed to do was witness the tormented expression on his buddy’s face to know that Parker hadn’t enjoyed this orgasm.
Rip let the black boy’s innards churn for a few more minutes. Tricklings of blood from Parker’s ass dribbled down onto the sawhorse. Parker was quiet, his eyes in another world, as suds slowly dripped from his lips. Finally, Rip said, “OK, guys! Time for the nex’ step!”
The chain started pulling on Parker’s throat collar. His body was slowly lifted off the dildo. His legs kicked at the air, desperately trying to find support as he felt the metal ring dig into his neck muscle. His face grimaced as his body dangled midair, hopelessly attempting to crane his air passage away from the noose.
The saw horse was removed, and a small cage was placed underneath his body. Carefully, he was lowered into the cage.
Seeing himself lowered into such a tiny prison caused Parker to become alert once more. His cramped body could barely fit into its new confines. “A cramp, Massa! I gots me a cramp!” Parker screamed. His cries were ignored. His body was fastened to all sides of the cage. The neck ring locked into place through an opening on top. Parker’s head was sticking through the top of the cage, unable to move.
Rip starting shucking off his pants. “Men, he’s got hisself such a purdy mouth, what say we let him prove he’s good for somethin’?”
Parker was suddenly confronted with the entire naked police department. The muscle men were massaging their beefy dicks and looking hungrily at his thick lips. It was an odd feeling for Drew to see his father’s huge fucktool grow to an erection. ‘That’s the dick that gave me life,’ he thought. ‘And now it’s about to have my bro.’
Rip slammed his dick into Parker’s virgin throat with relish. Parker’s throat blubbered all kinds of noises. He was obviously doing his best to suck so big a cock. Drew winced as he heard his friend choke. “Air, Massa, air!” Parker managed to say when the fat snake briefly came out of his face.
“You cotton pickin’ cocksucker!” Rip retorted, “I don’t fuckin’ care if ya can’t breathe.” He slammed his dick back in to the root, then plowed Parker’s lips harder and harder. Rip’s strong pelvis slammed into Parker’s face, battering it. There was a crunching sound as Parker’s nose broke. Parker’s chest felt like it was about to explode. He went in and out of consciousness. Finally, with his mouth smashed into Rip’s hairy bush, Parker’s lips felt the cock base twitch. An instant later, he could feel a warm, thick substance tumble down the insides of his neck.
Around the spectacle, the entire police force masturbated their big dicks. “He’s a fine cocksucker, boys,” Rip smiled as he removed his dripping cock. “Have a go at him.”
Now it was Steve forcing his fingers down Parker’s pink throat, causing the young man’s eyes to widen all the more. When Steve’s entire hand had been shoved in to the wrist, Parker’s face was obscenely distorted. His eyes looked bewildered. His jaw felt like it would break. Even through his brown skin, the face took on a crimson flush. He barely looked like himself. Inside Parker’s neck, Steve's fingers found the vocal cords and started scraping them with his fingernails.
His cock still dripping, Rip made his way over to his son. “Time ta see what ya got, boy,” he said. “Bein’ my son, I’ll bet you’s got a real hot cock underneath them clothes.”
Grass clippers chewed their way through Drew’s pants. “Stop!! Please stop, sir!” Drew was dismayed that his own father would do this to him, and even more surprised when he realized his Dad’s dick was starting to pulse with renewed excitement. Everything was scissored off his body in sections. Soon Drew’s nakedness was revealed in all its glory for his proud Pop.
His dad reached down and cupped his son’s testicles. “Gonna suck yer dick, boy,” he said. “Let’s see how much pleasure you kin have here in Lucifer.” With that, Rip lowered himself into a kneeling position. His muscled arms held his son’s muscular legs firmly in place as his nostrils breathed in his son’s cock aroma. Drew watched as his own father licked at the underside of his penis.
Soon his dad had wrapped his mouth around the entire manhood. His eyes were glaring upward at his son’s incredulous face. Rip’s cheeks were dented inward and his mouth made juicy suck sounds as his boy’s cock glistened with thick mouth and throat juice. Like well-oiled machinery, Rip’s face worked on the boy’s hefty fuck meat. Drew could hear Parker’s muffled anguish as two cops were now fucking his throat simultaneously.
In contrast to that scene was the obvious pleasure his Dad was getting from sexually stimulating his boy. Drew was upset that his cock was reacting to his father’s manipulations. Soon it was at full length. He couldn’t deny that his Dad was a hot dick licker. The father knew how to deepthroat, and his son’s modest bush was soon drenched with Rip’s salivary overflow. In spite of himself, Drew’s cock built to full orgasm. There was nothing to do but give in to the pleasure.
“Father, oh Father! I'm cummin’, Pop!” Drew watched his Dad’s face as his sturdy fat young cock sent bolt after bolt of family semen into it. Rip’s eyes acknowledged that he was receiving his son’s load. Rip was such a skilled cocksucker, he didn’t spill a drop.
“Down the hatch,” Rip grinned at his son as he wiped his mouth on his arm. “Ya see, boy? I jus’ did that to prove to ya that you like all this. You’re my son. It’s in your blood.”
He returned his attention to Parker’s nightmare. The young black man had been moved in the cage in such a way that his naked ass was now pressed against the bars. Pete was fucking his mouth and another officer was drilling the poor boy’s guts. Parker appeared to be barely conscious.
After all the cops had used Parker’s holes, Rip went up to Parker’s face and slapped it hard. "Wake up, licorice stick!” he cried.
It took several smacks before Parker was fully awake. Parker could barely speak from the pain and humiliation. “Massa,” he said, “You is the most twisted fuck I’s ever knowed.”
“Why, thank you, Satchmo.” Rip laughed as the cage was hoisted by pulleys into the air and turned upside down. Parker’s body tumbled onto his face, which turned red once again as gravity pulled blood down to his head. Underneath the cage, the floor opened up, revealing a large pool of clear liquid. Boiling bubbles popped at the surface.
“That’s hot bleach. You hangin’ with my boy tells me you always wanted ta be white. Now’s yer chance, Ghost Rider,” Rip said. “Lower him into it, boys.”
Parker was going in head first. Would his nightmare never end? He screamed in fear as the cage was lowered into the mixture. He smashed closed his eyes and mouth, holding his breath. From behind his closed lips, he gurgled for his life as his body disappeared under the surface.
Drew was awestruck as he watched his father work. That blowjob from his dad had been excellent. Was this what life as a Lucifer policeman was all about? After four years of hard work, journalism now seemed like a pretty boring profession.
“Bring ‘im up outa the bleach,” Rip ordered, and soon the cage containing Parker was lifted out of the burning pool.
Parker’s eyes remained closed. He coughed and spluttered, almost dared not take a breath for fear he’d be dumped back into the mixture. Finally, he screamed bloody murder. “AWWWGHHH! It stings, it HURTS! HELP, Massa Drew, HELP!” he wailed. The policemen chuckled. Rip again grinned at Drew. “See how much fun our town is?” he asked jubilantly.
Drew took in his father’s confident frame. Drew had always admired men with such self-assured personalities. Could this be a man he might follow after all? Seeing his dad so powerful in his nakedness awakened Drew’s mind to newfound lust. Rip had a beautifully sculpted body -- hot arms, chest, and belly. His butt was shaped perfectly. The muscles rippled along his back. ‘Blood’s thicker than water,’ Drew realized. ‘Maybe I could get into this. Maybe I’m more like my Dad than I thought.’
He eyed his dad’s throbbing monster dick. ‘Wonder what that tastes like,’ he thought. He decided he wouldn’t mind sucking it. Deepthroating a huge Daddy cock -- what a great way to show the man how happy Drew was to finally have a father.
“Whaddaya say, boy? Wanna see yer coon buddy take yer place on the garrote?” Rip offered. With bleach draining off his eyelids, Parker couldn’t open his eyes, but he heard the question.
Drew looked at his Dad. His father’s image was just too much for him. A smile slowly appeared on his lips. “Fuck, yeah.”
Parker’s jaw dropped as he heard the betrayal. He shook and wailed as his body was unlocked and pulled out of the cage. “I wan’ mah momma! I wan’ mah momma!” he cried. “Oh Lawdy, Lawdy! Help me, Jesus!”
Rip strode over to his son with confident steps. He moved behind the garrote and unlocked his son. Four men carried the struggling Parker over to the contraption and locked Parker’s neck into the death instrument.
Everything was ready for the show. Drew stood close to his dad, just to the side of the garrote, so he could get a close-up view. “Boy, earlier today I asked you what yer dreams was,” Rip remarked. “You gave me some dumb answer ‘bout Peace on Earth. Well, Piss on That! We’s all got better work ahead of us, and yer ‘bout to see some of it.”
Drew watched Parker intently. His friend was moaning. His lips were quivering, his eyelids still smashed shut with bleach. For some reason, his cock was fully erect again, drizzling pre-cum from the shiny helmet-shaped head.
“Once I turn this crank,” Rip continued, “that metal bar’s gonna push into his larynx. Yer buddy’s neck’ll look downright obscene as the rod reaches the halfway point in his neck. After it flattens his windpipe, we’ll keep goin’ until blood breaks through the skin, gushin’ inside and out. That blood’ll pour down inta his stomach and lungs.”
Parker started to shake and wail. “Lawd, Lawd, Lawd…” His voice trailed off.
“This nigger’s tongue will stick out,” Rip continued. “His face’ll turn red, his neck’ll jus’ fold in two, his spine’ll get ground down to nothin’. It’s gonna be painful, his lungs’ll shut down an’ his heart will stop. His brain’ll die, his eyes’ll roll up and he’ll be deader than ape shit. Ya ready for it?”
Drew looked around the room. He was surrounded by strong naked men ready to be his friend. Rip was smiling, calmly awaiting an answer. Drew smiled at his Dad. “I wanna feel your arm while you turn the crank,” he said, almost boyishly.
His hand squeezed his dad’s strong bicep. “Do it, Pop!”
It was over. Parker’s corpse hung horizontally in the air. The head was barely still hanging from the shoulders.
The next day, Lucifer’s finest craftsmen carefully washed away Parker’s blood. They used sculpting clay to skillfully fill in the boy’s throat laceration. With carefully-applied moldings of plasters and clays, the deep neck crevice was perfectly repaired.
Parker’s face was carefully manipulated into a happy, outgoing expression. He was given a warm, friendly smile. Once the muscles were set, chemical agents were injected under the skin to keep the tissues in place. To lock in the boy’s natural moisture, the nude body was slathered top to bottom with a primer. When the muscular ass cheeks were pulled apart, generous amounts of primer were applied deep inside the black crack. The thin coating was smoothed on carefully, forever plugging up each and every dead skin pore.
After the primer had dried, stone-textured body paint was applied. Starting with his face, Parker’s rich skin color was turned silver. Paint was sprayed all over the young man’s chest, shoulders, arms and belly, even though not all these areas would be visible in the finished product. The muscular limbs were next in line. The painters then concentrated the spray inside Parker’s hairy underarms. The gluteal muscles were again spread apart so that the sphincter could be silver coated, too. Rip smiled as the stone spray came round to the front; Parker’s thick pubes were likewise turned silver with stone-textured paint.
“Let’s give 'im a casual look,” Rip ordered. They retrieved Parker’s T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Eventually, both clothes and cadaver were made to look like stone.
To assure that the handsome statue would remain standing, a couple of cops used railroad spikes to nail Parker’s feet into heavy wooden blocks. He was pulled upright. Even up close, every bit of the young man appeared to be a section of carved monument.
Behind a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign in Lucifer’s small courtyard of the city hall, Parker’s pleasantly-smiling statue was proudly erected for seven days of happy patriotic display. Until the fateful seventh day, when Parker was ground up for fertilizer, there was a plaque directly beneath the happy scene:
LUCIFER
celebrates
NATIONAL BROTHERHOOD WEEK
“We Like ’Em Looking Peaceful and Happy”
All the townsfolk agreed that Rip should be proud. It was a fine centerpiece to a long annual tradition of Brotherhood Week festivities -- the best display yet.
Drew stood admiring the statue. “Lookin’ slick, pal.” He paused. “For a damn jungle bunny.”
He made his way back into the police station.
by Steve Geary
(Author’s Note: This story overflows with forced sex and murder, certainly neither of which are unheard of on CDG. But its plot is EXTREMELY "politically incorrect". Anyone offended by a fictional piece which revels in racial bigotry should proceed at his own risk.)
-------------------------------
For many hours as two young men journeyed south in their car, they watched the temperatures climb and the seasons roll back. They’d shucked off their winter coats and now wore mere T-shirts. What a joy to see green trees in February!
Night had descended. To keep himself awake as he drove, Drew turned the radio up loud. Finally, the sign he’d been waiting for appeared on the country road:
LUCIFER, LOUISIANA
Population 20,000
Population 20,000
Drew looked over at his buddy Parker and shook him gently. “Hey, pal, wake up. We’re almost there.”
Parker grunted and stirred, his head filled with cobwebs. His body ached. Sitting in a car for hours can wreak havoc on anyone, particularly a young man accustomed to physical activity. He rubbed his eyes and, to the best of his ability in such a cramped space, stretched his lean and muscular frame, fighting his way back to consciousness. “Thank God!” he said. “I was able to sleep.”
Drew chuckled. “Yeah, you got a good two hours’ worth in, bro. You almost looked dead there with your eyes closed and your mouth half-open!”
Parker managed a sleepy smile, only to feel a sudden pain in his shin. “Oh, DAMN!” he cried. “Shit, a cramp! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He laughed from the discomfort, rubbed his shin and slammed his foot against the car floor to relieve the pressure. “I hate pain!”
His buddy howled with laughter as the anguish comically contorted Parker’s face. Finally, it ended. Parker managed a sigh of relief. He shook his head at his friend and breathed, “Well, damn. I sure am wide awake now.”
“Good thing,” Drew replied. “Five more minutes and we’ll be at my Dad’s workplace. Mom tells me he’s quite a character. We want you fully alert when you interview him.”
“Yeah,” Parker replied. He stretched a bit more, then looked around for his note pad, pen, and digital recorder.
They were both journalism majors wrapping up their Senior year in college. It had been a long, difficult four years, and everything felt like it was building up, rather than winding down, to their graduation. With help from Drew’s Dad, Parker hoped that his college thesis would be a winner.
“Tell me again,” Drew asked. “What are you going to call this one?”
“‘Louisiana Stories’,” Parker said proudly. “National Brotherhood Week’s coming up. I want to hear firsthand the southern perspective on racial tensions of the 1960s. Your Dad’s pretty young, but because he’s a sheriff I’ll bet he knows lots of people on both sides of the issue, living and deceased.”
“Yeah, he must,” Drew agreed. There was a moment of silence. “But I’ve gotta remind you, I don’t know him well. Haven’t seen him since I was two. It was everything I could do to get Mom to give me his phone number.” He paused. “I sure hope he likes me. I’ve always wanted a father to approve of me.”
Parker smiled. “I appreciate that, Drew. No matter what, my thesis has been a great excuse for us to take a fun trip!”
Drew looked at his friend fondly. Although opposites in many ways, they had their similarities and they’d come to know each other well. Their frames were similar and they were of the same height. For years, they’d hung out, played tennis, gotten high, and gone out on double dates. You can’t do all that without learning to know and love your best buddy.
Drew’s eyes found the police station. “Hey, we’re here,” he said, pulling his car into the parking lot.
Parker was relieved. “'Bout time.”
Drew turned to his pal. “Parker,” he pleaded, “let me spend a moment with him on my own. I think he and I both need that. Then I’ll come to the door and get you, okay?”
Parker shrugged. “Fine with me, but I sure as hell am getting out of this damned car!”
Drew tussled his friend’s hair. “Don’t blame you a bit!” he laughed. He hoisted himself up and got out. “Damn, standing feels good.” Parker happily waved him on as Drew walked into the station.
The place was swarming with uniformed muscle men who looked like they’d shot steroids and hit up the gym twenty-four hours a day. Drew didn’t really know what to look for, other than the fact that his father was in his late thirties. Drew, his Mom finally admitted, had been the result of a date rape while she was a mere sophomore in high school, and it said something about his Dad’s charm that she’d stuck by him throughout her teen years.
“Whaddaya need, kid?” a particularly well-built guy with steel blue eyes and a flattop asked. The man wore a short-sleeved uniform with a sheriff’s badge on his chest. His shoulders were like cement blocks. The face was angularly chiseled in a way that would’ve impressed Burt Lancaster.
“I - I’m looking for my Dad,” Drew momentarily stuttered.
The stranger looked at him quizzically. “Are you Drew?”
Drew burst into a huge smile. “Fuck,” he said, “if you’re my father, I’ve sure got great genes!”
His Dad laughed. “Just call me Rip,” he said as he hugged his son. “Hey, guys, looky here! It’s another one’a my boys!”
Soon a half-dozen policemen were walking over, smiling as they admired both men, patting them both on the backs. Drew could barely contain himself; having so many musclemen pay attention to him inflated his ego. He could tell they were sizing him up and liked what they saw.
A muscular cop in a leather jacket approached Drew as he extended his hand. He looked like he’d just sauntered in from patrolling the streets on a motorcycle. “I’m Pete,” he said. “And I kin see the family resemblance! Funny, we met some’a the others but he hadn’t tole us ‘bout you yet.” His eyes narrowed sexily as he took in the sight of the strapping youth.
“Fuck, Dad, how many brothers have I got?” Drew laughed.
“Lost count, kid,” Rip chuckled. “I had me a pretty wild youth, and I got me the child support payments to prove it!” He shrugged. “Damn, yer lookin’ good. Let’s sit down at my desk, boy -- ya gotta make yerself at home while yer here.”
As his smiling coworkers went back to their duties, Rip lit up a Marlboro and grinned as he lowered his muscled ass into a chair. He put his feet up on his desk with one arm behind his head. Drew could see a trickling of armpit hair creeping out from just under the lower edge of the short-sleeved shirt. He was relieved to see how friendly his Dad was. “It was a long drive, Pop. It’s so good being with you.”
“I know,” Rip replied. “Been twenty years since I last saw ya. Can’t believe ya drove all this way. Where’s yer buddy?"
“He’s out in the car. I told him I wanted a moment with my Pop first.”
“Good thinkin’, son.” Rip reached into a small refrigerator by his chair and tossed his son a beer. “Ya know, you was jus’ a babe last time I saw ya, and now yer a young man ‘bout to grad-i-ate from college. Look at ya, all grown up. Time flies.”
Drew smiled modestly. “Well, I work out some. But nothing like you.”
“You could look jes’ like me if you wanna.” Rip flashed his boy a pearly white grin.
Drew smiled yet again. After all this time, it felt good to finally have a father, and to be wanted. “Well, sir, don’t hold your breath.”
“Again, just call me Rip. Tell me, whatcha gonna do with yerself now that yer gonna grad-i-ate? What are yer dreams?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there,” Drew answered.
“C’mon, boy, whatcha wanna do with yourself? Maybe some police work?”
“Well, I’m a journalism major, and I’ve taken a number of Humanities classes. Whatever I do, I want to help bring peace to the world,” Drew replied thoughtfully.
Rip guffawed. “Ya want world peace. Sounds like you’s wantin’ to be Miss America!”
He snuffed out his cigarette. “Well, anyways -- I’m the man who’s supposed to be gettin’ interviewed. Let’s go get your buddy.” He wrapped his arm around his boy’s shoulder and they made their way to the front door. Throughout the short journey, the other cops acknowledged them and smiled. No doubt about it; father and son looked good together.
Parker was leaning against the car waiting as the two men appeared at the entrance. He grinned from ear to ear as Drew motioned for him to come on in.
Rip’s hand suddenly grasped his son’s shoulder hard. “Drew,” he said sternly. “Your buddy’s a nigger.”
Drew looked over at his Dad. “Is that a problem, Rip?”
Rip paused for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he smiled. “Nah -- not a problem. We can work with it. No big deal.” He bit his lip and reached out his hand as Parker approached. “I’m Rip,” he said.
“Glad to meet you, sir!” Parker smiled. Parker’s handsome eyes twinkled. He could see the family resemblance.
“C’mon in,” Rip said. “Let’s do this damn interview.”
As the men walked back to Rip’s desk, Drew casually watched the other policemen’s facial expressions. Was there a subtle change this time around? The cops would look up smiling, but then something would happen; for just an instant, were their expressions subtly freezing up as their eyes took in his friend?
Drew wondered if his buddy noticed it, but Parker seemed oblivious. Well, he reasoned, Parker had probably grown used to it after a lifetime of being black. Besides, maybe Drew was just imagining it.
Rip threw himself into his chair again as Parker set up his recorder. “OK, shoot, boy,” Rip said, looking at Parker suspiciously. “I'll take any fuckin’ question ya got.”
“Thank you, sir,” Parker replied as he pressed the record button. “For the record, what is your name and title here, sir?”
“John Heilbronner. They call me Rip. I’m both the police sergeant an’ mayor of Lucifer, Louisiana.”
“Thank you, sir. Would you say that through the years Lucifer has seen its share of racial tension?"
“You bet,” Rip replied. “We’s mighty impressed with our little town. Lucifer used to be one’a the white supremacist capitals of the South. This very building was one of the KKK’s main headquarters.”
“Are you joking?!” Parker couldn’t hide his pleasant surprise. He’d struck pay dirt.
“I don’t joke ‘bout these things,” Rip replied sternly. “Down in the basement we’s got shit that fer old time’s sake we keep purdy much the way it all used to be. I could show ya if ya’d like.”
The boys looked at each other, barely able to mask their enthusiasm.
“You bet!” they cried.
“OK, follow me.” Rip nodded to a couple of his coworkers. The cops nodded, unblinking, with silent understanding.
Rather than a stairwell at the back of the station, there was a hidden iron slab in the floor covered by a rug. Rip tossed the rug to the side and lifted the slab by way of a metal ring.
Only the top rungs of a tall ladder were visible. It led down into a deep hole. Rip swung a leg over the ladder and edged his body down into the darkness. After hitting a light switch that flipped on a dim 15-watt bulb, he motioned for the boys to come down.
The basement took both young men’s breaths away. It looked like a huge, ambitiously constructed torture chamber. Although the center of the floor was bare, there were several strange machines against some of the walls, a number of cages and many pieces of dangerous looking equipment. Something that looked like an electric chair had a sign on the side which read “Ol’ Sparky”. There were guns, knives, and nooses. Some wall corners were blemished with dark splatterings that may have been dried blood. The palpable stench of long ago horrors permeated the room. Imagining the many atrocities that may have occurred here over the years almost made Drew sick to his stomach. “Shit,” he murmured.
“It’s somethin’ else, ain’t it?” Rip said proudly. “Maybe someday they’ll make this a fuckin’ museum. We done added a few new things, too, to complete the collection.”
Parker was speechless. He realized he didn’t know where to continue with his interview. He had no idea as to what some of the machinery actually did.
“What’s this thing?” Drew asked.
“Here, I’ll show ya,” Rip said. “Stand up against the pole, kid, an’ you’ll see how it works.” Rip positioned Drew’s body so he was facing out, away from the post. A metal piece was then brought around Drew’s neck and clamped into place. “This is called a garrote,” Rip explained. “Real popular in Spain. It was a means of executin’ a victim, strangling’ ‘im without actually hangin’ ‘im from some tree. Here, you’ll see.”
Drew noticed a couple more policemen making their way down the ladder as Rip adjusted the back side of the heavy metal post. “OK, now back here there’s a big screw,” Rip explained. “As I turn a crank, the screw tightens an’ the metal piece surroundin’ yer neck comes in closer. See?”
He turned the crank a couple of times. The heavy metal trapped Drew’s neck into place. It made his heart race to imagine how a victim must have felt, unable to move. Already, he could barely budge. He felt claustrophobic. “Wow, that’s, uh, cool,” he said uncomfortably.
“Yep, these was fuckin’ amazin’ death instruments, boy. Real effective. See, as that metal pipe digs into the neck, it crushes the windpipe. If the executioner has real strong arms like me, the metal works its way through the neck, right up to the post. Of course, the guy’s oxygen’s cut off long before that.”
Parker’s curiosity had kicked in. “Pretty scary,” he said. He came over to watch as Drew shuddered.
“Yeah, see how tight it can start to feel around yer neck,” Rip replied. He turned the screw once more, and abruptly, the pressure against Drew’s adam’s apple was beyond uncomfortable. “DAMN!” Drew squirmed, only slightly able to move his neck away from the pressure on his larynx. “This is NASTY.”
“Yep. We killed us lotsa Louisiana niggers with this contraption.”
“EXCUUUSE me?” It was Parker. Solemn and mostly silent until now, he’d finally found his voice. “Did you just use the ‘N’ word?”
Rip’s face hardened as he looked at his son’s friend. “Damn right I did -- nigger.”
Parker’s jaw dropped. “SIR!” He asserted quite emphatically. “This is the twenty-first century! Back where I come from, that’s a fighting word, and I’m appalled to hear a relative of my good friend Drew use it.” He looked Drew’s father in the eye. Only then did he notice the assortment of muscle-bound policemen converging on him from the shadows.
Rip’s hand instantly wrapped itself around Parker’s neck, choking him. Loudly, he spat a thick wad of saliva into Parker’s face. “Listen, baboon, you northern choc’lit covered marshmallows ain’t in no position ta tell us men of Lucifer how to behave.” He tossed Parker at Pete and the other men. “Have at ‘im, guys.”
It happened so quickly, neither boy had a chance to react. The policeman Pete grabbed the young colored man in a neck hold as two other cops pulled off his clothes. Both boys yelled. Parker screamed as he tried to fend off his many attackers. Strong as he was, he was no match for a gang of muscle-bound cops. Bit by bit his sinewy brown body was revealed. His arms were handcuffed above his head to the bars of a cage.
Drew was still trapped, his neck caught in the garrote’s vise grip. All he could do was waste energy kicking his feet helplessly at the air. He stopped yelling when he saw Parker’s bikini underwear. Underneath Parker’s perfect little 30”-inch waist, a huge bulge pressed at the garment. The beginnings of a thick black bush sprouted over the top of the waistband. When the bikini was torn off, Drew caught his first glimpse of his buddy’s black cock -- it must have been a foot long, with a thick, coarse forest of pubic hair framing it. “Oh, shit,” he thought. “No wonder my sister was so crazy about him.”
“You can’t hold me like this,” Parker screamed. “I want my lawyer. I have the right to a phone call!”
“Stupid ape, you ain’t got no rights whatsoevah here in Lucifer,” Rip replied angrily. “An’ let me tell ya, we don’ take too kindly to strangers comin’ down here wantin’ to write ‘bout us, neither.”
“Dad, don’t punish him, punish me!” Drew cried. “It was I who brought him down. Me -- your son!”
Rip pointed a finger at his offspring. “Can it with the fake heroics, nigger lover. Pete, do your thing. I’m gonna have me a smoke.” He sat in Ol’ Sparky and stuck a Marlboro in his mouth, lighting up with pleasure as he watched the scene unfold before him.
“This is not funny!” Parker shouted. “My arms hurt. I hate pain! Let me loose!”
“Pain is somethin’ yer gonna git to know real good, ya piece of shit,” Pete said as he pulled out a bottle of Mace. “We’re gonna teach ya some manners. First lesson is that you’s gotta call me sir.”
“Like HELL I will!” Parker retorted.
“Dammit, Wool Head, yer gonna learn the hard way then. Now look at me with them purdy brown eyes.” Parker kept his head down, but that didn’t stop Pete. He grabbed Parker’s chin, lifted it high and sent a hefty dose of Mace directly into Parker’s face.
“AWWGGGGH!!!” Parker screamed. His eyes felt like they were on fire. “It hurts, it hurts!” All the cops laughed as tears from his bloodshot eyes streamed down his face.
“Call me Sir, boy!” Pete commanded. “Or I’ll fry yer eyeballs.”
“Sir, Sir!” Parker shouted.
“Not good enough,” Pete replied. “From now on, yer gonna talk to me as tho you wuz some dumb Civil War slave whore. Call me Suh!”
“Yes, SUH! Anything y’all says, SUH!” Parker cried.
“See how easy we can break 'em?" Pete said to Drew. “Underneath that edjucated facade, they’s all the same. Even the best of ‘em, jes’ gotta have some sense knocked into 'em good and plenty an’ their heritage comes right back.”
“Please don’t hurt him anymore,” Drew cried. “He hates pain. He can’t stand being hurt!”
“Hell, boy, we’s only jus’ begun.” Pete motioned for another cop to have some fun. “Go for it, Steve.”
Parker’s nuts looked to be golf-ball sized as they hung in his large cum sack. Steve looked like a grinning, hungry animal as he kicked back his foot and slammed it between Parker’s legs. The boy’s eyes and jaw flew open, showing his captors his tongue and perfect white teeth. Parker howled deliriously as the pain ravaged his brain. He could barely breathe. He wanted to pass out. Finally, the words came. “Massa Drew, Massa Drew! I think they’s killin’ me. Help!”
Rip leapt from his chair. “Oh, you want Drew to help us kill ya, do ya, Pube Head? Tell ya what, Pete -- uncuff him from those bars.” He paused for effect and pulled some padded locking leather restraints from the ceiling. “Tie his wrists an’ ankles to these.”
All the cops laughed. They knew what was coming. Parker was to get his first taste of bondage.
Scared shitless, Parker babbled incoherently as they removed the two handcuffs only to replace them with four restraints. Rip smiled over at Drew. “Don’t be fooled by his tears, son,” he said. “Darkies luv gettin’ this done to ‘em.”
Parker’s muscular arms were tightly pulled back behind him and hoisted up toward the ceiling, causing extreme pressure on his rotator cuffs. He screamed even louder than before. Soon his ankles were likewise tightly strapped. His smooth body sweated profusely as it hung from the ceiling.
That’s when Rip pulled out the padded sawhorse. Attached to the seat was a large, thick rubber dildo plug. Straps were wrapped around Parker’s knee joints and then pulled outward, forcing the gluteal muscles to part. His butt hole was positioned directly over the dangerous looking dildo.
“That’s fifteen inches of fat rod underneath you, nigger,” Rip said. The men carefully guided Parker’s body down as the restraints from the ceiling were lowered. Parker was screaming his head off as his black asslips touched the tip of the fat butt plug.
“Lawdy, Lawdy!” he cried. “Please don’t!”
Drew couldn’t bear to look as Pete hissed in Parker’s ear. “All ya have to do is sink down, boy. Sit down on the sawhorse and we’ll release the tension on your arms.”
There was nothing Parker could do. The pressure against his asshole was getting more and more severe. His face was a study of contrasting painful expressions. He felt his virgin ass start to buckle under the assault. Suddenly, the enormous dildo’s cockhead broke through the sphincter with a POP!
Parker shrieked. “Lawd, Lawd! Help me, Massa Drew, help me!”
All the cops snickered as they started taking off their clothes. This was going to be fun. One of the naked officers stroked his hefty dick as he grabbed a flogger of multi-strapped leather cords. He flogged the boy across his chest, back, and abdominals. Parker screamed in anguish as bruises and oozing red stripes instantly appeared on his otherwise perfect physique.
Rip and Pete then hoisted the chains up and down on Parker’s arms, causing the boy to react like a puppet on a string. His body danced like a rag doll. “Dance, Bojangles, dance!” the cops chanted. Parker’s ass rode up and down the thick rubber cockhead. As Parker’s innards were violated, his large, hairy cock became fully hard, bobbing up and down and making circles in the air. Pre-cum oozed from the huge slit in the middle of his brown cock-head.
Gravity was doing the work for Lucifer’s upholders of the law. More and more dildo embedded itself in Parker’s bowels -- four inches, six, then eight. Soon, ten inches of cockshaft were raping the boy’s ass, pushing his guts uncomfortably upward.
Parker’s nervous system short-circuited. He was blabbering pure gibberish. Sweat poured from his armpits. Saliva drooled from his open mouth. His eyes glazed over. Soon, Parker’s awkwardly-splayed glute muscles made contact with the padded seat of the sawhorse. His body was entirely impaled on fifteen inches of thick dildo.
A stiff, wide leather dog collar was padlocked around his throat. A chain stretched upward from the back of the collar to the rafters above. Steve pulled on the chain, keeping Parker from leaning too much in any direction.
Pete flipped a motorized switch underneath the sawhorse, causing the dildo to randomly vibrate deep inside the boy’s black ass. New moans emanated from Parker’s throat as his insides were pulverized. His bloated penis twitched involuntarily as his mouth started to foam.
“You're killing him,” Drew whimpered helplessly.
“Kid, we’re just edjy-catin’ ‘im!" It was his Dad talking. “He wanted ta know ‘bout racial tensions. We’re lettin’ ‘im learn ‘em first-hand!”
Even though Parker was in agony, a body can have a mind of its own. Parker’s cock started bouncing up and down with excitement. It was now almost as big and dangerous looking as the nasty dildo. Just as Parker screamed, his cock sent buckets of black sperm careening every which direction through the air. “See, boy? TOL’ ya niggers git off on bein’ abused,” Rip roared with laughter. All Drew needed to do was witness the tormented expression on his buddy’s face to know that Parker hadn’t enjoyed this orgasm.
Rip let the black boy’s innards churn for a few more minutes. Tricklings of blood from Parker’s ass dribbled down onto the sawhorse. Parker was quiet, his eyes in another world, as suds slowly dripped from his lips. Finally, Rip said, “OK, guys! Time for the nex’ step!”
The chain started pulling on Parker’s throat collar. His body was slowly lifted off the dildo. His legs kicked at the air, desperately trying to find support as he felt the metal ring dig into his neck muscle. His face grimaced as his body dangled midair, hopelessly attempting to crane his air passage away from the noose.
The saw horse was removed, and a small cage was placed underneath his body. Carefully, he was lowered into the cage.
Seeing himself lowered into such a tiny prison caused Parker to become alert once more. His cramped body could barely fit into its new confines. “A cramp, Massa! I gots me a cramp!” Parker screamed. His cries were ignored. His body was fastened to all sides of the cage. The neck ring locked into place through an opening on top. Parker’s head was sticking through the top of the cage, unable to move.
Rip starting shucking off his pants. “Men, he’s got hisself such a purdy mouth, what say we let him prove he’s good for somethin’?”
Parker was suddenly confronted with the entire naked police department. The muscle men were massaging their beefy dicks and looking hungrily at his thick lips. It was an odd feeling for Drew to see his father’s huge fucktool grow to an erection. ‘That’s the dick that gave me life,’ he thought. ‘And now it’s about to have my bro.’
Rip slammed his dick into Parker’s virgin throat with relish. Parker’s throat blubbered all kinds of noises. He was obviously doing his best to suck so big a cock. Drew winced as he heard his friend choke. “Air, Massa, air!” Parker managed to say when the fat snake briefly came out of his face.
“You cotton pickin’ cocksucker!” Rip retorted, “I don’t fuckin’ care if ya can’t breathe.” He slammed his dick back in to the root, then plowed Parker’s lips harder and harder. Rip’s strong pelvis slammed into Parker’s face, battering it. There was a crunching sound as Parker’s nose broke. Parker’s chest felt like it was about to explode. He went in and out of consciousness. Finally, with his mouth smashed into Rip’s hairy bush, Parker’s lips felt the cock base twitch. An instant later, he could feel a warm, thick substance tumble down the insides of his neck.
Around the spectacle, the entire police force masturbated their big dicks. “He’s a fine cocksucker, boys,” Rip smiled as he removed his dripping cock. “Have a go at him.”
Now it was Steve forcing his fingers down Parker’s pink throat, causing the young man’s eyes to widen all the more. When Steve’s entire hand had been shoved in to the wrist, Parker’s face was obscenely distorted. His eyes looked bewildered. His jaw felt like it would break. Even through his brown skin, the face took on a crimson flush. He barely looked like himself. Inside Parker’s neck, Steve's fingers found the vocal cords and started scraping them with his fingernails.
His cock still dripping, Rip made his way over to his son. “Time ta see what ya got, boy,” he said. “Bein’ my son, I’ll bet you’s got a real hot cock underneath them clothes.”
Grass clippers chewed their way through Drew’s pants. “Stop!! Please stop, sir!” Drew was dismayed that his own father would do this to him, and even more surprised when he realized his Dad’s dick was starting to pulse with renewed excitement. Everything was scissored off his body in sections. Soon Drew’s nakedness was revealed in all its glory for his proud Pop.
His dad reached down and cupped his son’s testicles. “Gonna suck yer dick, boy,” he said. “Let’s see how much pleasure you kin have here in Lucifer.” With that, Rip lowered himself into a kneeling position. His muscled arms held his son’s muscular legs firmly in place as his nostrils breathed in his son’s cock aroma. Drew watched as his own father licked at the underside of his penis.
Soon his dad had wrapped his mouth around the entire manhood. His eyes were glaring upward at his son’s incredulous face. Rip’s cheeks were dented inward and his mouth made juicy suck sounds as his boy’s cock glistened with thick mouth and throat juice. Like well-oiled machinery, Rip’s face worked on the boy’s hefty fuck meat. Drew could hear Parker’s muffled anguish as two cops were now fucking his throat simultaneously.
In contrast to that scene was the obvious pleasure his Dad was getting from sexually stimulating his boy. Drew was upset that his cock was reacting to his father’s manipulations. Soon it was at full length. He couldn’t deny that his Dad was a hot dick licker. The father knew how to deepthroat, and his son’s modest bush was soon drenched with Rip’s salivary overflow. In spite of himself, Drew’s cock built to full orgasm. There was nothing to do but give in to the pleasure.
“Father, oh Father! I'm cummin’, Pop!” Drew watched his Dad’s face as his sturdy fat young cock sent bolt after bolt of family semen into it. Rip’s eyes acknowledged that he was receiving his son’s load. Rip was such a skilled cocksucker, he didn’t spill a drop.
“Down the hatch,” Rip grinned at his son as he wiped his mouth on his arm. “Ya see, boy? I jus’ did that to prove to ya that you like all this. You’re my son. It’s in your blood.”
He returned his attention to Parker’s nightmare. The young black man had been moved in the cage in such a way that his naked ass was now pressed against the bars. Pete was fucking his mouth and another officer was drilling the poor boy’s guts. Parker appeared to be barely conscious.
After all the cops had used Parker’s holes, Rip went up to Parker’s face and slapped it hard. "Wake up, licorice stick!” he cried.
It took several smacks before Parker was fully awake. Parker could barely speak from the pain and humiliation. “Massa,” he said, “You is the most twisted fuck I’s ever knowed.”
“Why, thank you, Satchmo.” Rip laughed as the cage was hoisted by pulleys into the air and turned upside down. Parker’s body tumbled onto his face, which turned red once again as gravity pulled blood down to his head. Underneath the cage, the floor opened up, revealing a large pool of clear liquid. Boiling bubbles popped at the surface.
“That’s hot bleach. You hangin’ with my boy tells me you always wanted ta be white. Now’s yer chance, Ghost Rider,” Rip said. “Lower him into it, boys.”
Parker was going in head first. Would his nightmare never end? He screamed in fear as the cage was lowered into the mixture. He smashed closed his eyes and mouth, holding his breath. From behind his closed lips, he gurgled for his life as his body disappeared under the surface.
Drew was awestruck as he watched his father work. That blowjob from his dad had been excellent. Was this what life as a Lucifer policeman was all about? After four years of hard work, journalism now seemed like a pretty boring profession.
“Bring ‘im up outa the bleach,” Rip ordered, and soon the cage containing Parker was lifted out of the burning pool.
Parker’s eyes remained closed. He coughed and spluttered, almost dared not take a breath for fear he’d be dumped back into the mixture. Finally, he screamed bloody murder. “AWWWGHHH! It stings, it HURTS! HELP, Massa Drew, HELP!” he wailed. The policemen chuckled. Rip again grinned at Drew. “See how much fun our town is?” he asked jubilantly.
Drew took in his father’s confident frame. Drew had always admired men with such self-assured personalities. Could this be a man he might follow after all? Seeing his dad so powerful in his nakedness awakened Drew’s mind to newfound lust. Rip had a beautifully sculpted body -- hot arms, chest, and belly. His butt was shaped perfectly. The muscles rippled along his back. ‘Blood’s thicker than water,’ Drew realized. ‘Maybe I could get into this. Maybe I’m more like my Dad than I thought.’
He eyed his dad’s throbbing monster dick. ‘Wonder what that tastes like,’ he thought. He decided he wouldn’t mind sucking it. Deepthroating a huge Daddy cock -- what a great way to show the man how happy Drew was to finally have a father.
“Whaddaya say, boy? Wanna see yer coon buddy take yer place on the garrote?” Rip offered. With bleach draining off his eyelids, Parker couldn’t open his eyes, but he heard the question.
Drew looked at his Dad. His father’s image was just too much for him. A smile slowly appeared on his lips. “Fuck, yeah.”
Parker’s jaw dropped as he heard the betrayal. He shook and wailed as his body was unlocked and pulled out of the cage. “I wan’ mah momma! I wan’ mah momma!” he cried. “Oh Lawdy, Lawdy! Help me, Jesus!”
Rip strode over to his son with confident steps. He moved behind the garrote and unlocked his son. Four men carried the struggling Parker over to the contraption and locked Parker’s neck into the death instrument.
Everything was ready for the show. Drew stood close to his dad, just to the side of the garrote, so he could get a close-up view. “Boy, earlier today I asked you what yer dreams was,” Rip remarked. “You gave me some dumb answer ‘bout Peace on Earth. Well, Piss on That! We’s all got better work ahead of us, and yer ‘bout to see some of it.”
Drew watched Parker intently. His friend was moaning. His lips were quivering, his eyelids still smashed shut with bleach. For some reason, his cock was fully erect again, drizzling pre-cum from the shiny helmet-shaped head.
“Once I turn this crank,” Rip continued, “that metal bar’s gonna push into his larynx. Yer buddy’s neck’ll look downright obscene as the rod reaches the halfway point in his neck. After it flattens his windpipe, we’ll keep goin’ until blood breaks through the skin, gushin’ inside and out. That blood’ll pour down inta his stomach and lungs.”
Parker started to shake and wail. “Lawd, Lawd, Lawd…” His voice trailed off.
“This nigger’s tongue will stick out,” Rip continued. “His face’ll turn red, his neck’ll jus’ fold in two, his spine’ll get ground down to nothin’. It’s gonna be painful, his lungs’ll shut down an’ his heart will stop. His brain’ll die, his eyes’ll roll up and he’ll be deader than ape shit. Ya ready for it?”
Drew looked around the room. He was surrounded by strong naked men ready to be his friend. Rip was smiling, calmly awaiting an answer. Drew smiled at his Dad. “I wanna feel your arm while you turn the crank,” he said, almost boyishly.
His hand squeezed his dad’s strong bicep. “Do it, Pop!”
-------------------------------
It was over. Parker’s corpse hung horizontally in the air. The head was barely still hanging from the shoulders.
The next day, Lucifer’s finest craftsmen carefully washed away Parker’s blood. They used sculpting clay to skillfully fill in the boy’s throat laceration. With carefully-applied moldings of plasters and clays, the deep neck crevice was perfectly repaired.
Parker’s face was carefully manipulated into a happy, outgoing expression. He was given a warm, friendly smile. Once the muscles were set, chemical agents were injected under the skin to keep the tissues in place. To lock in the boy’s natural moisture, the nude body was slathered top to bottom with a primer. When the muscular ass cheeks were pulled apart, generous amounts of primer were applied deep inside the black crack. The thin coating was smoothed on carefully, forever plugging up each and every dead skin pore.
After the primer had dried, stone-textured body paint was applied. Starting with his face, Parker’s rich skin color was turned silver. Paint was sprayed all over the young man’s chest, shoulders, arms and belly, even though not all these areas would be visible in the finished product. The muscular limbs were next in line. The painters then concentrated the spray inside Parker’s hairy underarms. The gluteal muscles were again spread apart so that the sphincter could be silver coated, too. Rip smiled as the stone spray came round to the front; Parker’s thick pubes were likewise turned silver with stone-textured paint.
“Let’s give 'im a casual look,” Rip ordered. They retrieved Parker’s T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Eventually, both clothes and cadaver were made to look like stone.
To assure that the handsome statue would remain standing, a couple of cops used railroad spikes to nail Parker’s feet into heavy wooden blocks. He was pulled upright. Even up close, every bit of the young man appeared to be a section of carved monument.
Behind a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign in Lucifer’s small courtyard of the city hall, Parker’s pleasantly-smiling statue was proudly erected for seven days of happy patriotic display. Until the fateful seventh day, when Parker was ground up for fertilizer, there was a plaque directly beneath the happy scene:
LUCIFER
celebrates
NATIONAL BROTHERHOOD WEEK
“We Like ’Em Looking Peaceful and Happy”
All the townsfolk agreed that Rip should be proud. It was a fine centerpiece to a long annual tradition of Brotherhood Week festivities -- the best display yet.
Drew stood admiring the statue. “Lookin’ slick, pal.” He paused. “For a damn jungle bunny.”
He made his way back into the police station.
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