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From: worthlesspainslut@hotmail.com (e. wolf)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 27 Dec 2001 02:43:50 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Jazz's Toys Part 10: The Hitchhiker (M+/M, nc rape torture kidnap)
Date: Thu, 27 Dec 2001 03:10:04 -0500
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Disclaimer: Don't read this if you're not s'posed to. Anyone who does
any of the things described in this story is a sick, horrible person
and needs to be put in jail. This story is not for underage or
mentally unstable people, or for the easily offended.

Author's note: Okay, it's a little strange for me to be writing an
all-male chapter of any kind of torture story, but i've had a few
people ask for one and i thought Jazz would be just the sadist to star
in it, so here goes. Hope it doesn't suck!)

Jazz's Toys Part 10: The Hitchhiker (M+/M, nc rape torture kidnap)
by e. wolf

Jazz was exactly the kind of person that made teenagers' mothers warn
them not to hitchhike. He even looked like it, with his shaved,
scarred head and a body covered in so many tattoos they were visible
sticking up above the collar of his denim jacket.
So why did so many hitchhikers wind up getting into his car? He
wondered that as he stared over at the sleeping, dishevelled young man
in the passenger seat. Well, perhaps sleeping wasn't quite the right
word - unconscious would be more accurate. A well-aimed hypodermic to
the thigh had taken care of that.
Jazz pulled into a dark alley beside Sully's tavern and unloaded the
kid into an open doorway. Sully had a little apartment upstairs that
he let Jazz use whenever he needed to. In exchange, Jazz would provide
the `entertainment' for the club on Friday nights - usually some
stuck-up cunt who needed to be taught a lesson, or a prissy little
virgin ripe to be abused. But occasionally he would throw the
rough-and-tumble clientele a little curveball, and for the most part
they didn't seem to mind too much. He'd brought them a senator's son
one time, the punk-ass kid of some law-and-order politician who was
trying to crack down on biker gangs - who comprised a large segment of
Sully's clientele. Rumour had it the kid had been able to walk again,
although it would probably be a number of years before he could shit
normally again - one of Sully's more enthusiastic patrons had jammed a
pool cue so far up the kid's ass he'd needed surgery.
Another time it had been the hockey coach of Sully's own son. It
seemed the coach had a predilection for little boy cock, and Sully's
loyal patrons had sent him home with his own cock sewn tightly to his
ballsac, and `Child Molester' tattooed in black ink across the entire
surface of his face.
But more often it wasn't revenge that underscored the fun at Sully's
on Friday nights - it was pain. Pain for whichever toy Jazz had chosen
to provide for the patrons' entertainment, and the participants paid
handsomely for the privilege of being a part of it.
Jazz dragged the hitchhiker up a flight of stairs to the apartment. He
was in his mid-twenties, tall and lanky with long curly hair and a
goatee. He weighed next to nothing, though, and Jazz wasn't even
remotely winded by the time he dropped him on the old iron cot in the
bedroom.
The guy had been waiting by the side of the road with his battered
guitar case at his feet and his army fatigue jacket slung over his
shoulder, a hippie-wannabe born in the wrong decade.  He'd said his
name was Jesse and he was hitching across country to make his fortune
as a folk singer. He asked Jazz if he knew anywhere local he could buy
weed. Jazz had told him he had some good dope in the glove
compartment. That's where he kept the syringe.

Jesse found himself waking up on his stomach, his face buried in the
sagging, stained mattress of an old cot. He had a headache and blinked
for a minute to remember where he was. He couldn't, of course. He was
three hundred and fifty miles away from the last place he remembered,
although naturally he had no way of knowing that.
"Are you awake?" a voice said. Jesse started and tried to roll over.
He couldn't do that, either, and suddenly realized his ankles were
tied to the iron footboard of the narrow cot.
"What's going on?" he tried to shout, his voice muffled by the
mattress.
"Well, you said you liked to party," the voice said. It was a deep
voice, resonant, somehow familiar. "So I thought I'd invite you to a
party. It might be a little different than the kind you're used to,
but the cool part is you get to be the guest of honour."
Jesse began to struggle at that, trying to pull himself free of the
bindings that held him to the cot. With something like nausea he
realized he was naked.
"What's the matter with you, you fucking homo?" he said. "Let me go. I
don't want to party with you. Untie me, you motherfucking bastard."
Jazz laughed.
"I've fucked a lot of things," he said with a smile. "But I never did
fuck my mother. I watched my dad fuck her, though. And his friends.
And the neighbours. And people she'd never even met before."
Jesse recoiled in horror as he felt a rough, callused hand on the
smooth, nearly hairless cheeks of his ass.
"Don't touch me!" he shrieked, his voice shrill.
"Oh, I'll be touching you," Jazz assured him. "And so will all my
friends. It's gonna be a long, long night for you, Jesse."
He untied the young man from the bed and dragged him, struggling and
squirming, over to a metal table in the next room. Jazz had gotten the
thing years earlier, a gift from a grateful gynecologist who'd been
invited to one of the Friday night events at Sully's. It still had the
stirrups at the foot end, but Jazz had modified them with shackles at
the ankles and straps that went just above and just below the knees,
as well as straps at the waist and neck and iron cuffs for the
`patient's' wrists. It took some doing, but after a few minutes Jazz
had his wriggling new toy firmly attached to the table.
"What are you doing, you sick faggot?" 
Jazz smiled, standing between Jesse's splayed legs and stroking his
lower belly.
"I'm getting you ready for a party, sweetmeat," Jazz told him. "First
we're gonna have to do something about this bush of yours, though.
It's a little too shaggy for my tastes."
He left Jesse squirming and swearing on the table for a few minutes
while he went into the bathroom. When he returned he was carrying a
shaving basin and a menacing-looking straight razor.
"I'd hold still if I were you," he said, showing it to his
still-struggling prisoner. "I'd hate to slip with this in my hand."
That stopped Jesse dead in mid-expletive, and his eyes widened in
horror at the sight of the massive blade. Jazz hummed tunelessly as he
began to lather up Jesse's balls, his limp dick, his belly and ass.
"Please don't cut me," Jesse whispered. "Please, I'll do anything,
please don't cut me."
Jazz looked at him, frankly astonished.
"Why do you cunts always say that?" he wondered. "I mean, you always
say `please, I'll do anything,' but you really have no idea what that
means, do you? I mean, obviously you'll do anything I want you to -
you're the one strapped to the table with his cock in the air."
Jazz was skilled with the razor - he used it to shave his own head
every day, after all - and it wasn't long before Jesse was bare from
his mid-thighs up to his navel.
"There we go," he said, giving Jesse's flaccid cock a friendly slap.
"Smooth as smooth can be. But I'd hate for your skin to go getting all
dry, so I think we'll put some baby oil on it."
Jazz retrieved a bottle from the bathroom and poured a liberal amount
into his hands. Jesse flinched at the feel of the cold oil on his
sensitive skin as his hulking, tattoo-covered kidnapper began to
massage his newly-shaved scrotum. Jazz gave him a wicked grin as he
felt Jesse's cock begin to twitch beneath his fingers.
"Now who's the faggot?" he said. "Looks like you're getting a stiffy,
little Jesse."
Jesse moaned and writhed as, sure enough, his cock stood at attention.
Jazz's grin turned to a mischievous look as he adjusted the stirrups
to bring Jesse's legs straight.
"What are you doing? Please, stop. Whatever it is, please. You'll go
to jail."
"Oh, that's okay," Jazz said. "I've been to jail. I'm not likely to go
back, though. I've got cops and judges from all over the country who
like to go to my parties. If I go to jail, they don't get to party
with me and my little friends anymore." He gave Jesse's now
fully-erect cock a playful slap. "Right, little friend?" He laughed
and began to unfasten his pants and Jesse recoiled in horror.
"What are you going to do?" he said, a pleading note in his voice.
"It's not what I'm going to do, Jesse, it's what you're going to do.
You obviously like to fuck guys up the ass, don't you? I mean, you're
getting so hard from me just touching your cock that it's obvious to
me you want to put it somewhere. So I'm gonna sit on your dick and go
for a little ride. How would you like that?"
"You're a twisted asshole, you know that?"
Jazz laughed.
"You'd better hope my asshole's not twisted," he said. He tweaked
Jesse's cock and Jesse whined with pain. "Cos otherwise this is gonna
hurt you a lot."
Jazz stepped out of his pants, and Jesse's first thought was it was a
good thing his cock was going into Jazz's asshole and not the other
way around. Jazz had the largest cock he'd ever seen on a guy, even
hanging half-limp as it was right now.
Jazz smiled as he saw Jesse staring at his half-hard organ. "Don't
worry, little man," he said as he straddled the table. "You'll get to
have my cock in you soon enough. And all my friends' cocks too. And
won't that be - unh! - fun?"
Jazz let out a grunt of effort as he let his own weight impale his
asshole on Jesse's cock. He squeezed his sphincter tightly as Jesse
moaned in humiliated pleasure. Jazz began to massage the cock with his
anal muscles, and it wasn't long before Jesse's cock was spurting
unbidden into the huge man.
By the time he'd finished riding his young victim to completion,
Jazz's own cock had gone from half to three-quarters full. Jesse
moaned as he emptied his balls, tears of embarrassment streaming down
his face.
Jazz stood as Jesse's cock softened, and moved forward so his crotch
was directly over Jesse's face.
"Now you've made a mess of my nice clean asshole," he said, grinding
his ass down over Jesse's mouth, his cock bobbing between . "Now you
can clean it up. Every drop."
He relaxed his clenched ass muscles to expel what seemed like a gallon
of disgusting, shit-laced cum into Jesse's mouth. Jesse gagged and
tried to spit it out, but Jazz gripped the boy's head tightly between
his thighs until he'd finished swallowing the mess.
"What's the matter?" Jazz said. "Not used to the taste of cum? That's
okay, you'll be used to it by the end of the night. Here, have some
more."
And without ceremony he grabbed Jesse's jaw in his hands and forced it
open, shoving his cock down the young man's throat. He didn't have
much time left alone with his new toy, and he wanted to cum in him at
least once before his guests started to arrive.
The boy gasped and thrashed as his jaw was held open and the huge slab
of flesh between his kidnapper's legs invaded his airway. Gagging
noises escaped him as he struggled to breathe. Jazz rode him hard,
enjoying the feeling of the tight gullet stimulating his shaft first
to full erection, then to orgasm.
He pulled out slightly as he came, letting the boy's mouth fill with
cum, grinding his asshole against Jesse's nose so he had no choice but
to swallow Jazz's cum.
"Mmm, that was good," Jazz said. "Your mouth makes a good cunt, Jesse.
Now we'll find out if your asshole does, too."

There was already a crowd waiting as Jazz dragged the sobbing, naked
young man downstairs to the bar, his freshly-shaved cock and balls
flapping ass Jazz shoved him into the middle of the throng.
"There he is, ladies and gentlemen," Jazz said, looking around at the
all-male crowd. "Well, gentlemen, anyway. This is Jesse and he'll be
our main event for this evening."
Jesse shuddered, trying to cover his exposed genitals. However, he
suddenly found both his arms seized and fastened to shackles overhead.
"Let me go! Let me go! Let me - UH!" 
Jesse's protests were cut short by a heavy fist slamming into his
belly.
"This is my cousin Mungo, Jesse," Jazz said into his ear as Mungo
punched him twice more. "Mungo has the biggest cock of any guy I've
ever seen. I saved that nice virgin ass of yours for him."
Jesse began weeping anew, pulling at the cuffs around his wrists in a
last-ditch effort to escape, but there was no chance.
"I always like fresh meat," Mungo said, seizing Jesse's ass cheeks and
pulling them apart to probe his finger between them. "But first I like
to tenderize it." And he pulled his belt from his pants. So did about
ten of the bar's other patrons. Jesse let out a tortured scream as the
belts began to fall across his skin, leaving wide red-and-purple marks
all over his thighs, belly, back and ass. He dangled helplessly,
bawling as a dozen thick leather straps cut into his flesh. He swayed
back and forth under their impact, wailing with pain and humiliation.
When the men had tired of whipping him, Jazz unhooked him from the
ceiling and had him bend over in the centre of the room, legs spread
wide, grabbing his ankles in his hands.
"Now we're gonna see how many cocks you can take up that ass of yours
in the course of a night," Jazz said. "We've got a small crowd here,
only a hundred and fifty guys tonight, but some of them are pretty
virile - they can maybe go two, three times apiece."
Jesse wailed as he felt Mungo's cock pressing against his asshole. The
huge man had slathered his cock with Vaseline, but it still felt like
he was jamming a baseball bat into the younger man's tight asshole.
"Now don't fall over," Jazz said. "Or I'll have to stick my cock down
your throat again to help you keep your balance."
Mungo was in him a long time, his thick pole digging tunnels in poor
Jesse's bowels as the huge man took his sweet time fucking the tight
virgin ass.
"Oh, yeah, that's a good little boycunt," Mungo groaned as he finally
shot his load. Jesse felt like his bowels were being dragged out his
asshole as Mungo extracted his half-hard cock with a squelching sound.
He could feel the hot cum dribbling down his legs as a second man
lined up against his open hole.

By the time the fifteenth or twentieth cock had been in Jesse's
asshole, he wasn't able to keep his balance anymore, his legs cramped
up, his belly aching from the thrusting of cock after cock. With a
moan, he collapsed to his knees.
"Oh, look!" Jazz said. "Our little toy wants a rest." He bent over and
looked Jesse square in the eye. "Would you like a rest, slut?"
Jesse nodded wearily.
"P-please. Just stop. Please let me go. Let me go, let me go, let me
g-"
Jesse's pleading lament was suddenly stoppered up with a cock in his
mouth. He began to thrash about, trying to back away as a stranger
began to thrust into his face. He didn't get far, though, as yet
another dick suddenly slid into his sloppy, distended anal cavity. His
pleas sounded more like "oog, oohg, ook" than anything comprehensible.
After an age, he felt the man fucking his ass begin to quicken his
pace, just as the balls slapping against his chin began to tighten.
They came nearly at the same time, and Jesse coughed and sobbed, cum
drooling down his chin and his thighs.
He didn't have any time to recover, though, as two more cocks plugged
up each end.

On and on it went, cock after cock. Jesse kept track for a little
while, twenty-five, thirty, fifty cocks, but after an hour or two his
vision blurred and he felt himself growing faint. He kept sucking,
kept kneeling, tried to stay awake, but eventually he went into what
felt like a trance, his vision blurring, his mind drifting.
He was startled finally to realize both his holes were empty and Jazz
was holding his hair, dragging him to his feet.
"Did you enjoy that, cunt?" Jazz asked.
"No," Jesse moaned, reeling, barely able to support himself.
"Well, you'll like this," Jazz said. "I'm gonna let you go."
Suddenly Jesse perked up a little. He hadn't really heard anything
that had been said to him for the past few hours, but Jazz's words
broke through his haze.
"Really?" he said.
"That's right. As soon as you clean the floor." Jazz gripped Jesse's
hair tighter, pointing his face back toward the grimy concrete floor,
now pooled with dried cum and Jesse's blood. "Go on, cunt. Lick it all
up."
Jesse sobbed, but he wasn't really crying now. He was beyond pain,
beyond degradation, beyond tears. He lowered his head to the lake of
reeking scum and extended his tongue, trying not to vomit.
"Once you've swallowed it all, I'll let you go, I promise."
Jazz's voice spurred him on as he choked down the horrifying mess, cum
mixed with the dirt and spilled beer on the bar floor.

It seemed to take him forever to lick up the mess, the few spectators
remaining in the bar cheering him on as he gagged and retched.
Finally the floor glistened with Jesse's saliva and Jazz stood over
him, arms crossed over his chest, grinning.
"Very nice, cunt. Now suck me off and we'll go for a little ride."
Jesse looked up at the bulge in Jazz's jeans. The thought of another
cock in his mouth made him begin to wail again.
"But you said -"
"I said swallow it all and you can go. I'm a man of my word and I
meant what I said. Suck my cock and swallow it all. If you spill any
on the floor I'm afraid we'll have to start this all over again."
Instinctively Jesse opened his mouth to take Jazz's cock inside. He'd
become quite the cocksucker over the past few hours, Jazz thought as
he fucked the boy's throat hard. And with so little training.

It was fully two days later when the bruised, naked and completely
disoriented young man stumbled into a police station babbling about a
kidnapping and a gang rape. The psychopath had kept him in the trunk
of his car for who knew how long, driving for nearly a day and a night
to this forsaken little hamlet somewhere ... well, he guessed it was
in the mountains somewhere, but he didn't have the inclination to stop
and look around right now. Jazz had dropped him off right outside the
police station - the idiot, Jesse thought with something like triumph.
But the sheriff's deputy behind the counter looked nonplussed at his
tale, sitting with his feet up on the desk, fidgeting with a pencil.
"A big bald guy, tattoos all over him?" the deputy echoed, his voice
loud enough to get the attention of the sheriff in the next room.
"What's that, Harry?"
The cop pointed at Jesse with a smirk.
"This guy says he got picked up hitchhiking by some big tattooed
sadist who took him to a bar and let a couple hundred guys fuck him."
"Really?" The sheriff smiled, and suddenly Jesse felt a thrill of
terror coursing through his body.
"I know," said the deputy. "How rude of Jazz to have a party and not
invite us."
The sheriff, a huge man nearly the size of Jazz, came out of his
office and threw an arm around Jesse's shoulders.
"But that's okay, son," he said. "We can have our own little party
here. Whyn'cha come in the back with us and we'll have some fun?"

*end of part ten*

the author welcomes any questions/comments/suggestions for further
installments of this series. worthlesspainslut@hotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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