Gentlemen's Club

Hi, everybody!

I'd like to thank kevinmd & cookieaddict (don't have your Usernames, so I'm calling you by the first parts of your email addresses) for bringing me out of retirement – it's feedback like yours that makes writing for this site so rewarding :-)

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All characters engaged in sexual activities are at least 18 years old.

Max Bruhner, ace investigator for the Daily Gossip, was in trouble.

One minute he was following up on what could possibly be THE story of his career – Where Does Minister X Disappear to Every Weekend? – and the next...

It all started when he'd happened to see the famous politician/family man wrap a scarf around the lower half of his face and duck into a taxi. Max had hopped on his motorcycle and followed. When the taxi stopped, the Minister had practically sprinted to the doorstep of an oversized building – Max would have mistaken it for a warehouse, except Rose Street was nowhere near the mercantile district – brandished a small card at the doorframe and zipped inside; all in the time it took Max to cut his engine and drop the kickstand.

In the next four hours Max watched the place, over 3 dozen men – all in expensive suits, mostly on their own, although some arrived in small groups – made their way into the building. Max had caught a glimpse of an aging, well known movie star; three high-ranking politicians; and someone who might have been a famous media-empire mogul, though he couldn't be sure. Almost all the men had obscured their face right up until they reached the doorway and displayed their little cards.

You didn't have to be an experienced muck-raker to realize something big was in that building, just waiting for a crack reporter to blow it wide open. And Max had spent over twenty years – from high-school gossip columnist to yellow-mag reporter – making sure that one person's secret became everybody's business.

He took his time, scouting the building by day to find the back-door – the fresh-produce truck arriving at noon would have made anyone sit up and take notice, since everyone knew restaurants always get supplies in the wee-hours of the morning; the influx of hansom men in the late afternoon who didn't leave again till the following morning. He watched it all, taking notes, deciding on his best way in, while at the same time feeling the tick-tock of his approaching weekly deadline.

So, after two days of intensive, sleep-depriving study, Max took a whole day off to sleep in order to come back refreshed. But visions of what could possibly be waiting in that building – and the scandalous headlines that would result – kept dancing inside his closed eyelids and exciting him to the point where he'd been obliged to pull down his pajama bottoms and stroke his semi-hard cock – the excitement of possible notoriety always got Max's balls buzzing – and beat off his 6.5 inch handful of veined meat for a solid ten minutes before the resulting orgasm relaxed him enough for sleep to claim him.

Fat lot of good resting did him!

Max had timed his arrival to coincide with the produce truck. Nothing like the old "I'm just a delivery guy" routine for getting into any place with catering! Seriously, who looks at a carton-carrier's face?

Apparently these guys did. Max had carried a box of carrots five steps into the building – just far enough not to be seen from the outside, in fact – when he found himself surrounded by what seemed like a wall of solid muscle. A black bag over his head. Then nothing.

* * *

"Mister! Hey, mister! Wake up!" a soft hand and a slightly rough tenor voice were the first things Max was aware of. The next thing was that his naked back and ass were pressed against a hard, cold floor.

Opening his eyes didn't show much at first – the light was so dim the young man shaking him awake was barely more than a shadow. But as his head cleared and his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Max could see his companion was a young blond with wide, dark eyes, and who was just as naked as Max himself.

At first he wasn't too worried – his body didn't ache, so obviously Max hadn't been beaten; and while being nude in public was embarrassing, he'd been through worse. But then his eyes completely adjusted to the minimal lighting, and Max realized he and the young man weren't in some back ally somewhere – they were inside a stone building, in a cell!

With a shout that sent the young man scuttling back in fear, Max jumped up and ran to the bars of their cell, shaking them and shouting to be let out. When he paused for breath between shouts, Max became aware of a soft voice saying "No, no, don't! Please, mister, don't attract their attention!"

He turned around to see the young man huddled in a far corner, and for the first time it occurred to Max that he might want to find out a little more about the situation before their jailors came back for him or the boy.

Moving slowly and carefully, Max squatted down near the young man, close enough to touch, but not yet reaching out to the cringing boy.

"Hey, it's alright, man," he said in his most soothing voice, "There's nobody coming. It's just you and me here." The young man responded by lifting his head, though his body stayed tense and he didn't move away from the corner he'd pressed himself into. "My name's Max. What's yours?"

"Davy. Davy Stone. I work for Secretary –" the boy named one of the other major political figures Max had thought he'd spotted scuttling into the building.

"Well, Davy, what can you tell me about all this?" Max waved a hand in a wide circle, indicating their strange surroundings.

"I don't know. I don't know anything," Davy seemed on the verge of tears.

"Well, why don't you tell me how you got here?" If nothing else, maybe the kid would provide the sensational story Max needed – assuming he got out of this place in one piece to tell it. And Max refused to consider any other possibility.

"I, uh, I followed my boss to this place, and next thing I know, I woke up here!" the boy relaxed a little, exposing a slightly defined chest and flat stomach, his smooth legs widening into a upside-down triangle with his feet still pressed together.

"Why did you follow your boss?"

"Well, uh, y'see, um, when I first got the job, well, my boss would ask me to, um, work overtime with him – 'cause he works really long hours, see?" Davy's wide eyes looked right into Max's, trying, and failing, to convince Max that he was telling the whole truth, "I'd just, you know, get coffee and move documents, and maybe, y'know, give him a backrub or something, if he got too tense, just to help him focus and work better..." Davy's hands unconsciously dropped to his lap, fingers running lightly up and down his swelling cock as he thought back to all the "backrubs" he'd given his boss after-hours.

Deciding to pretend he believed this story, Max said encouragingly, "So, you would give your boss" – 'head' – "backrubs and relieved his" – 'sexual needs' – "tension. Why would that make you follow him here?"

Davy licked his lips – soft, cocksucking lips, Max was sure – swallowed and continued, "Well, working overtime like that paid really well, y'know? But then, one day the boss told me that he wouldn't be needing me to stay over anymore," those cocksucking lips pouted, a cross look coming over the boy's cute face as he forgot to keep playing innocent, "and, well, I wanted to know who was blowing hi... I mean, where he was getting his backrubs now," Davy's eyes, which had been looking into the middle distance, focused back on Max, hoping that Max hadn't caught his slip. Oozing sincerity, he continued, "It was just 'cause the money was so good, see? I really liked getting paid all that extra cash" – yeah, the famous politician wouldn't want his personal fucktoy showing up in the official payroll, so it would be cash in hand – "and these other little perks he'd give me. It wasn't that I was jealous, really!"

So – Max summed up in his head – the boy had been hired purely for his looks and his willingness to put out. Then one day his Sugar Daddy got tired of him and found something new to fuck around with and dumped the cute little slut. But, while the boy wasn't suicidal enough to publicly expose his former lover, the kid still missed the relationship and all the material goodies that came with it enough to spy on his boss.

But, fascinating as the Secretary's secret sex-life was turning out to be, it wouldn't do Max much good it he couldn't get himself and his source out in time to write it up.

"So, I went to this place to see what's going on – I'd seen the GPS coordinates on his phone, so I didn't have to follow him," the boy stated with, Max had to admit, well-deserved pride. And then Davy's face fell, as did his lightly masturbating hands, as he added, "But I only got as far as the door when some guys jumped me and stuck this hood on me and dragged me down here. At least, I think it's 'down' – I'm pretty sure we got into an elevator – and stripped me down, and, and then... then they just left me here." Davy was obviously leaving something out, based on the way he hesitated and looked away.

"So, how long have you been here?" Surely if the boy had arrived while Max had been casing the place, he would have seen him. But that could mean that he'd either arrived while Max was resting up for tonight's intrusion, or – disturbing thought – all this had happened before Max had discovered the strange building. In which case Max may well disappear without a trace along with him.

"Dunno. A while, I guess," Davy frowned, obviously remembering something he didn't like to think about. But whatever it was couldn't have been too unpleasant, since his half-hard young cock twitched to full erection.

"Does anyone know you're here?" Max asked without much hope.

"No, I just left work as if it was a normal day," Davy sighed sadly, then brightened up as he looked at Max, "Did you tell anyone you're coming here?" Then a confused look came over the boy's face as he realized, "Wait, you never told me why YOU're here! Are you working with them?"

Before Max could say anything to deny it, he found himself flat on his back with a surprisingly strong Davy holding him down, grinding his hard-on cock against Max's – Max was horrified to discover he'd thrown wood sometime during Davy's recital.

"You are, aren't you? You're one of them! Trying to get me to admit I like all those pervy things you all've been doing to me! Trying to make me say I like having a juicy, hard dick between my slobbery lips, filling my throat, pumping cum down my throat till I think I'm gonna pass out!" the boy's hips were grinding harder and harder as he spoke, a glazed, hungry look coming over his face, "You're all the same, you older men with your hard-ons and your swollen balls just waiting to empty out into a sweet little number like me!" Davy ran his hands up and down through Max's chest and belly hair, cruelly pinching his nipples and pulling on the hairs bellow his navel as his hands moved up and down the older man's body in time with his bucking hips.

Sliding forward, Davy's voice hissed out, "Or is this what you're after?" as Davy sat up and pressed his pert ass backwards on Max's straining erection, his cheeks parting to let the hot, meaty rod press into his crack, "You wanna fuck my ass, you perv? You wanna shove your dick up my cunt and pump, pump, pump me full of hot cum? Fuck me raw, pound my G-sport till I cum right along with you? Make me... Oh, damn!" Davy suddenly turned himself around, slamming his face against Max's groin, taking every swollen inch of Max's throbbing erection into his cock-hungry mouth. Davy's own leaking dick waved enticingly in Max's face as the boy bobbed up and down, working his throat with every downstroke, stroking with his tongue and lips every time he came up for air, the death-grip his hands had around the base of Max's cock the only thing keeping the journalist from shooting his load in seconds.

Barely aware of what he was doing – that expert blow-job taking up most of his attention – Max reached up and grabbed hold of Davy's twitching prick. It seemed that the 6 inch cock guided itself into Max's mouth, his hand just along for the ride as the hot glans pushed his lips wide and pressed against his tongue.

Max found that by rolling the boy's sperm-heavy balls in his hand, he could breathe quite comfortably without having to let go of Davy's mouth-fucking cock; meanwhile his other hand found its way to the curve of the boy's bouncing butt, fondling and stroking a firm handful of asscheeck for a few pumping strokes before seeking out the fluttering ass-ring and filling the slick hole with a couple of fingers.

And that was how their captors found the pair.

* * *

"Well, Chris, what do you think?" The big, redheaded man turned away from the bank of screens to his head of security. Between his wide-spread legs, which were still in their tailor-made suit pants, a naked young man with long brown hair knelt, his hands busy in a two-handed grip up and down his boss' enormous cock while his tongue laved the deep-red crown, lapping up precum by the spoonful.

"The content of his wallet shows he's a reporter named Bruhner – works for some low-grade rag," Chris tore his own gaze away from the monitors, which were showing the two prisoners from several angles, thanks to the multiple mini-cams hidden around the cell. "I was looking at his face when Dave told him that no-one knows he's here – we're clear, as far as that goes. The guy might as well have waved a banner with 'Oh, shit' written all over it." The security chief's own red-headed cocksucker was still waiting patiently for the older man to unbutton his fly – Chris had not wanted to be distracted in these crucial first few moments. But now that the first and most urgent possible crisis was averted, he gave in to his boy's alternating puppy-dog & come-hither looks and let loose his own nine inches of hot, throbbing need.

"Oh, good. I was concerned when David didn't wait for him to answer," Colbert sat back, the tension easing from his wide shoulders, while his hands directed the young man brunette's head lower down to lick and suck on a pair of grapefruit-sized balls.

"Naw, Dave's good at reading people. He knew the answer the same way I did. This way, our guy's guard'll be down after the boys are done with him, and Dave'll be able to get him to tell us everything he knows."

And, both of them thought, what "the boys" – men gleaned from both the security and the performance crews – were about to do to the reporter would be more than enough to ensure the man kept his mouth shut when they finally did let him go. The carefully edited recordings would see to that, if nothing else.

Assured that everything was going according to plan, both men turned their eyes back to the monitors to enjoy the show, while their respective cocksuckers competed to see which could make his top cum first.

* * *

One minute, Max and Davy were busy sixty-nining each-other; and the next, strong hands were pulling the boy off Max and hauling him across the room.

"Huh, whu..?" Max's lust-addled brain took a moment to process what he was seeing. The lights were now glaringly bright, so now he could see his surroundings – rough stone and metal bars, with a pile of rags along one wall for bedding – and get a good look at his captors. Not that it did him much good – all of them wore cloth masks over the top half of their faces, and almost nothing below.

Max gulped in dismay as he realized that, aside from Davy, he was the least-hung man in the room. Each of the four intruders was almost naked; their thick, defined muscular bodies clearly visible in all their powerful glory. Aside from the masks, all of them wore heavy leather boots, ranging from ankle to thigh-high, and some had wide leather belts around their powerful waists. And that was all.

After a moment's struggle, Davy hung limply between two of the new arrivals – aside from his cock, which was still rock hard and leaking precum in a steady stream.

Max could see that struggling would be pointless – each of these guys outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, all of it pure muscle – and so only sat up slowly, trying to convey surrender with all his might. If these guys thought he was meek, he might be able to pull a fast one on them and escape, even if it meant leaving Davy behind.

"Well, well, well. Wadda ya know?" An oversized white man, his bald-shaven head gleaming above his mask stood, feet planted wide, right in front of Max, two other goons flanking him on either side. "Here I thought you boys were strangers! Didn't realize you were already on cum-trading terms." The skinhead let out a bark of a laugh, which all the other big bruisers joined, obviously enjoying his wit.

"You taking advantage of our little fucktoy?" Skinhead demanded, yanking Max to his feet. "Or are you the one who couldn't wait to get a taste of his sweet li'l percker?" the man grabbed Max's neck from behind and forced Max to kneel in front of Davy's groin. "Go on then, dickhead! Show all of us how well you give head!"

Max automatically shied away from the cute, twitching cockhead in front of him – it was one thing to give in to temptation in the dark, when they were alone and the other man had made the first move. It was quite another to suck cock in this harsh, glaring light before a leering, jeering crowd. The fact that he was being forced to service – not one of these huge, domineering He-Men; but the smallest, weakest boy in the room – just made it that much more humiliating.

WHACK! Max suddenly felt a burning sensation across his shoulders as one of the men expertly whipped him with a wide leather belt, the blow pushing Max forward towards Davy and his two captors. "I told you to suck that dick, jackoff! Get to it!" More stinging blows followed all over Max's back even as he forced himself to open his mouth and take Davy's dick. It didn't help that when he looked up he clearly saw Davy stroking the cocks of both guys at his sides, his small hands unable to close around their vein-etched, mammoth erections, while at the same time his sweet, full lips were invaded by the tongues of the muscle-men as they each took turns kissing the boy, turning Davy's head one way and then the other.

It was clear that Max had completely lost the attention of all three of the men he was facing. Which perversely made him want to gulp Davy's prick deeper and deeper into his mouth, even more than the beating he was receiving – he'd show that kid that no-one ignores Max B when he was giving head!

It wasn't like Max didn't have experience servicing another man's throbbing hard-on. He'd gotten most of his best scoops in college by using his mouth for other things than speech. And getting some of the most important men on campus to return the favor had not only given him some damn fine orgasms, it had also given him the chance to get some seriously embarrassing photos of them for either blackmail or publication – depending not so much on whether they paid up, as on whether he believed their embarrassment would come back to harm him personally.

"OK, OK, that's enough!" a giant paw grabbed the back of Max's head and pulled him away from Davy by his shaggy black hair. "You're enjoying this way too much! Aren't you, you pathetic sack o'shit?" a black man almost as tall as the skinhead leader sneered at Max's slack-jawed, spit-dripping face.

As Max turned around, he saw that the men had not come into the room empty-handed as he'd first thought – a waist-high, H-shaped table now filled up the other half of the cell. Max could clearly see a pair of restraints on either end, perfectly placed for holding wrists and ankles wide apart and immobile while giving access to the prisoner's mouth and ass.