Chapter 2

Resuming my seat, I realized I had three major problems. My hands were bound, I was naked, and the three guys sat just outside the door. I felt dejected, both by my circumstances and by what had happened to me and how I had acted. I had actually been aroused by what they did to me. Even as I sat here looking back with disgust, I could not deny this truth. My cock was limp now, but it had been hard as a rock, and even the memory caused a twinge of feeling I did not want to face up to. Leaning over, I peeked around the door frame and saw their silhouettes in the darkness. Concerned that they ultimately intended to do me physical harm, I needed help to get my hands free, and then I could figure a way out of this mess. My first thought was to slip out the door and to the left, crossing the ditch that was there. But the ditch was overgrown with briars and small trees, and there was no way I could get through it without being heard. So in the end I simply decided to make a run for it.

I glanced around the door once more and could see well enough to tell the three guys were not paying any particular attention to me. Smoke was drifting up from the group, and just as I saw it I caught the scent of burning marijuana. With luck this would be to my advantage and I'd catch them off guard. The bright lights from the hotel reached all the way across the fields, so the area wasn't in complete darkness, and I knew after a few steps I would be silhouetted and easily visible. There was nothing I could do about it.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out onto the bare dirt. The second I cleared the doorway I was running. I had always been fast on my feet, but right away I was aware of two issues. With my hands bound, my balance was affected and it took me a few strides to make adjustments. Also, I had never run naked and was surprised how uncomfortable it was to have my cock and balls unrestrained. Nevertheless, I got off to a very good start before I heard a commotion behind me indicating a chase was on.

For the most part I had wide open soccer fields to cross, but there were two significant obstacles. One was the fence between the hotel and the fields, and from the outset I was angling to my right, intending to hit the open gate at the southwest corner of the hotel property. This angle was more to the favor of my assailants than to me, but I had no choice. The second problem was the ditch line I had to cross. It was the main drainage across the property, running east and west, and I didn't have the luxury of using either of the two bridges that were in place. It turned out to be the ditch that foiled my escape.

The ditch was about ten feet wide and five feet deep. Though we had a bridge at the west end, which was behind me, and about the middle, which required a significant detour from the bee line I had planned, I had jumped this ditch many times over the years and knew I could do it easily. However, I had never jumped it with my hands tied behind my back. Though I heard yelling behind me, it was just before I reached the ditch that I heard footfalls, and I remember being amazed that someone had closed on me that quickly. I jumped, straining with all my might to reach the other side, but without the benefit of my arms to follow through on the jump and control my balance, I landed about a foot short. The sides were steep and damp from recent rains, and I slipped to my knees in the mud, sliding backwards to my dismay. Quickly recovering, I scrambled up the slope and over the lip, stumbling over a washed out indentation. Just as I caught my balance I heard a grunt as someone landed behind me, and a second later two hands slammed into my shoulder.

The hard shove spun me around as I fell and I landed hard on my back, the air compressed out of my lungs. My head snapped back and hit the ground and my hands dug into the earth as my entire weight came down on them. I nearly blacked out, but once again survival took over. I needed air and I rolled over onto my side as I gasped, trying desperately to refill my deflated lungs. Before I could recover, hands grabbed either shoulder and I was roughly pulled to my feet. There is no more helpless feeling than those moments directly after having the breath knocked out of you, yet I was alert enough to recognize the click of a knife opening. I recoiled as I gasped for air, lifting one leg and lowering my head, trying to protect myself as best I could.

'Stupid motha f-f-fucka. I oughta cut you.'

Breathing in and out, I didn't respond. I was braced and ready in case his anger spilled over, but there was little I could do. As the fog in my head began to clear, I was suddenly very afraid.

'W-w-walk asshole.'

With a firm grip on each arm, they more or less dragged me through the ditch and then frog marched me back towards the table. Looking ahead, I could see the big guy was still sitting calmly, as if nothing had happened, and his attitude scared me more than the guys that chased after me. I started to call out with the hopes of attracting help from the hotel, but the thug to my right must have read my mind, for he suddenly waved the knife in my face.

'D-don't m-m-make a sound.'

It was the first time I had actually seen the blade and it was long and thin. I remained silent. When we reached the picnic table, they directed me around to the far side and pushed me down at the feet of their obvious leader. Without the use of my hands, I hit the ground hard.

'Whitey need a little exercise?' It was a rhetorical question, and he laughed in his deep voice, enjoying his own joke.

'Stand him up.'

His two minions did his bidding, and for the first time I noticed the big guy was still completely naked. The other two were bare chested, but they had their pants back on, however this guy hadn't bothered. His huge cock hung limply between his legs.

'Gimme dat knife.'

A second later I felt it under my cock, the cold steel lifting me. 'You gonna pull that shit again?'

'No. No!'

The quickness of my answer belied my fear, and they laughed. He used the knife to swing my cock back and forth, and then finally sat back on the bench. When I exhaled loudly I realized I had been holding my breath. My back was itching from the grass, and it was surprisingly annoying considering all I had been through. As I squirmed in an effort to relieve the itch, he gave me a hard look.

'Somethin' bothering you?'

An idea hit me. 'My arms really hurt from being tied so long.'

He handed the knife back to its owner. 'Cut 'im loose.'

With relief I felt the rope unwound from my arms, and as soon as they were free I began to stretch the soreness out of my limbs. At first it actually hurt more to move my arms. The long rope had wrapped well up my arms, leaving deep grooves in my skin that now felt prickly as circulation returned. As I tried to rub feeling back into my hands, I privately congratulated myself for being clever enough to get the rope removed. Hopefully it would simplify my escape should another opportunity arise. Unfortunately my victory was short lived.

'Give me dat rope.' With new doubts suddenly gnawing at me, I watched the guy to my right pick the rope up off the ground and hand it over.

'Arms in front whitey.'

I resisted, instead putting my arms to my side, close in to my body. When I felt the point of the knife on my cheek, I froze.

'C-c-can I cut him?'

'Your call whitey.'

A drop of blood slipped down my cheek. I was scared to move.

'Ok. Ok. Just move the knife.'

The big guy nodded, and I felt the knife pulled away. Reluctantly but compliantly, I put my arms together, holding them out. This time the knots were expertly tied, though a minimal amount of rope was used. It was thankfully not as tight around my wrist, and a long length of rope trailed off to the ground and lay in a small pile. I jerked against the knots to their amusement and realized that I was not going to pull free, but it did occur to me that with the improved freedom, and the fact that I could see my hands, I might be able to reach the knots to work them loose, assuming I got the chance.

Dumbfounded by my continuing bad luck, I stood helplessly in front of these guys as one of them lit another marijuana cigarette. They passed it around, ignoring me for a moment. I had smoked pot in college but it had never truly interested me. As I watched my three attackers get further stoned, passing around a bottle of cheap wine behind the joint, I idly wondered what my wife was making of my absence. I had left to run by the grocery and had been delayed when I found the problem with the net. Now I had been gone for quite a long time. My thoughts were interrupted when the guy to my left, the one that stuttered, started blowing marijuana smoke in my face. This became a great source of amusement to my tormentors, and they quickly lit another joint and tried to make me smoke it.

'Damn. You shoulda learned by now. Don't be pissin' us off.'

The threat was understood, and finally I took the burning cigarette between my fingers and to my lips. I drew some smoke into my mouth, and after a minute blew it out.

'Inhale it asshole.'

The knife had been laid on the table, but the guy picked it back up. I drew smoke into my lungs, then immediately doubled over in a coughing fit, the harsh smoke choking me. Not surprisingly they found this hilarious. When they finally settled back down, I was ordered to try again. This time I used greater caution and filled my lungs without coughing.

'Hold it.'

The tone of voice was menacing, and I conceded that I had no choice but go along with this. I wasn't accustomed to getting high, and felt light headed after a few seconds. I was forced to repeat the process until half the joint was gone, then their greed offered me a reprieve as they took it back for themselves. It had only been a matter of minutes, but I was suddenly very high, my mouth had gone dry, and I became jittery, shifting from foot to foot.

'W-white boy, h-h-he's high.' This was followed by a snicker.

'Kneel down.'

I looked at the leader and could see he meant business. The effect of the marijuana had caused me to forget for a moment what had been happening, but it all came back in a rush. Paranoia overwhelmed me, and I knew it wasn't just from being high. I wanted out of this nightmare. I bent my knees and dropped to the ground, the bare dirt not a concern to my already filthy body.

'You know what to do.'

He was right, I knew what was expected. I tried to swallow but my mouth was like sandpaper. He slid his naked ass forward and spread his legs so that his cock and balls hung over the edge of the bench, the whole time staring right into my face as if daring me to refuse. I held his gaze as long as I could, and when I finally broke contact, I found myself once again looking at the biggest cock I had ever seen. Now that I was high, everything seemed surreal as I shifted forward and leaned in to touch my lips to the beast.

My head was between his thighs as I ran my tongue along the length of his soft cock. In its deflated state, it was bigger than my own, and I had always thought I was above average. He obviously wasn't satisfied with my efforts, and when he spoke it was high pitched as a result of his lungs being full of smoke. He didn't bother to exhale before giving me on order.

'Use your hands.'

Obediently I took his huge dick between my joined together hands, the last two or three inches extending out and hanging loosely. Lifting it up to my lips, I couldn't help myself. Maybe it was the marijuana, or maybe it was something latent in me coming out like before, but I found that I was fascinated by this monster of a cock. My mouth was dry from the pot, and as I kissed his head my lips smacked noisily. The big guy thrust the wine bottle in my face, and I reluctantly took a swig, and then a longer one when I was so ordered. When I returned to my task and took his cock into my mouth, it was with more reverence than I wanted to admit. My own cock began to swell again.

'T-t-that mutha fucka do l-like to s-suck dick.'

'I told ya, whitey can't resist a big, black cock.'

I tired to ignore them as I dealt with my own personal horror. Here I was being forced to suck dick, and I didn't seem to mind. In fact, on some level I was enjoying the feel of this massive member sliding across my tongue. The conflict of pleasure and disgust was hard to manage. As I felt my own cock grow hard I conceded the buzz in my head had only made it harder to fight down the unwanted feelings that were obvious even to my assailants.

It took him a surprisingly long time, but I finally felt him stiffening in my mouth. When he was hard, I slipped his cock from my mouth and lifted it, then began licking his balls without being told to do so. I didn't think about what I was doing, but it didn't go unnoticed.

'This here whitey's a quick learner.'

The shock of my action settled in with his comment. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't stop. I sucked his big balls into my mouth one at a time, then returned to his cock, taking it as deep as I could. I had gone too far now, they all knew I was servicing this cock far better than I had to if I was simply being forced. The longer it was in my mouth, the less I was able to fight back the unwanted feelings of enjoyment. The effects of the drug had weakened my resolve and exposed some leaning I had either carefully suppressed or simply wasn't aware of. Just as I totally caving in to the feelings, allowing the sensations to overpower all rational thought, I was pushed backwards, his cock slipping from my mouth.

'Get up.'

Suddenly wary once again, my head spinning from the buzz they had forced on me, I did as I was told. He took the dangling rope and pulled me over to the end of the table, and then with strength that caught me by surprise, he shoved me so I bent at the middle. In that instant I realized what he was doing and began to fight, but the big son of a bitch was powerful, and he pressed me down against the wooden surface, his hard cock sliding up over my ass as his hard thighs pressed into me from behind. I continued to struggle, my arms underneath me, and nearly squirmed away to my left before the other two guys joined in, helping to pin me to the table. I was frantic, breathing heavily as I continued to struggle.

'Take dat rope. Pull it to the far end.'

One of the guys let go, and I took advantage and tried to make my escape. But the big guy laid his weight against me, his cock pressed into my back, which only reminded me to fight harder. Suddenly the rope was jerked and my arms were violently pulled out from under me, eliminating what leverage I had.

'Tie it off.'

My arms were pulled tight and the rope was secured to the legs at the far end of the table. The two guys behind me stepped away. I pulled at the rope, and the end of the table lifted off the ground, but it was heavily constructed and easily fell back in place. So instead I moved to the side of the table and took a seat, firmly planting my ass on the bench in a protective position as I worked anxiously on the knots at my wrists.

'Git da oil out of the car.'

The stuttering guy moved away. As the leader approached me once again, I noticed he was grinning and his cock was still hard. He liked the battle. I was desperately trying to free my hands when he lifted me off the bench and literally threw me back in place at the end of the table. The shortened rope jerked my hands when it pulled taut and I hit the end of the table painfully. He pushed me around until I was in the same position as before, then laid a meaty hand in the middle of my back. The knife was on the table in front of me and I stretched out for it, but another hand grabbed it and I heard it click open. The sound reminded me of the nick on my face and I froze.

'You gonna like this too.'

He was laughing when he said it and I cursed my own weakness. Confirming my worst fears, I began to fight again at hearing his words, no longer caring about threat of the knife. Without the use of my arms, however, the four strong hands held me easily. I may have possessed secret fantasies about sucking cock that betrayed me earlier, but I had never considered being fucked in the ass. The mere thought of a guy's cock in my ass made me nauseous, and realizing that this is what they intended to do filled me with terror.

'Please, don't' Tears were flowing again. I knew it would only amuse my tormentors, but I couldn't stop them.

'Please, I'll do anything else. Just not that.'

The laugh behind me was deep and unfriendly. 'You already be doing what else I want.'

'Please, I'm begging.'

As I continued my pathetic pleading, he stepped to one side and then I felt a cool wetness spill on my ass and run across my balls and down my legs. A familiar smell filled my senses; baby oil. I tired to fight once more but was running out of gas. The end of the bottle was shoved roughly against my anus, and I felt a jet of oil forced up inside me as more spilled down my legs. I then froze in horror as I felt the leader step behind me and press his hard cock against my ass.