Bound by the LawBound by the Law


I was going stir-crazy in my little apartment. The overwhelming urge to go out for a couple drinks was winning. I checked my wallet — again. The ten dollar bill was still there — it hadn’t magically changed into a 20 or more. I thought about it for a few more minutes and remembered my unemployment check would be in the bank the next day. I grabbed my windbreaker and went outside. The cool night air felt refreshing.

It occurred to me I hadn’t been outside in a week. I’d been cooped-up scouring the internet and newspaper for a job. A job? Hell, I couldn’t even get an interview. The economy was still bad, and it wasn’t going to get better any time soon. I shook my head in amazement at how quickly one’s life could go completely downhill.

When I was forced to move to this neighborhood I saw a bar a couple blocks away. I walked there now.

When I’d told some friends where I was living, they said, “Be careful — that’s a bad area.” So my senses were on high alert as I walked.

I went inside the bar and waited for my eyes to get accustomed to the dim lighting. I saw an open bar stool and sat down. The bartender came right over. I was a little surprised: He wore a leather vest and leather pants. No shirt — the vest didn’t cover much of his chest.

“What’ll you have?” he asked.

“How much is Jack Daniels?” I asked.

“Five seventy-five,” he answered.

“How about the well whiskey?”

“Four bucks.”

I ordered whiskey on the rocks. I could have two of them and still leave a tip.

I looked around the bar as I sipped the whiskey. There wasn’t a woman in sight. It finally dawned on me that this was a gay bar. I didn’t care. I’m a fairly liberal guy. What two people did in the privacy of their homes was their business — not mine.

I had a dilemma. If I sipped the whiskey, I could stay there longer, but I wouldn’t catch much of a buzz. If I gulped it down, I’d get a little high, but I’d have to leave real soon.

I gulped down the whiskey and ordered another one. I took large swallows from the new drink, as well.

“You trying for a world record?” the guy sitting beside me asked.

I laughed. “No…no, just trying to get my moneys worth.”

“You’re new here,” he said.

“Yeah, I moved into the neighborhood last week and had to get out of my apartment for awhile.”

I looked at him. Nice looking guy; solidly built. Probably ten years older than me. Friendly smile.

Guys hitting on me was nothing new. I don’t know what it is about me, but older guys trying to pick me up in bars had happened before. I never did anything with them, and I always rejected them in a nice way. In some ways, I felt like it was a compliment.

We both drained our glasses and he ordered 2 JD’s on the rocks — doubles!

“You don’t have to do that.” I told him, but deep down I was happy he did.

The whiskey began to go to my head and I opened up to him. Telling him how I was laid off from my job (“Nothing personal, John — just business.”) — telling him the snowball effect it had on my life: I couldn’t afford my condo so I had to move; I couldn’t afford my car so it was repossessed and now I had to walk or take the bus. He asked questions, and I was more than eager to answer them. It had been awhile since I had actual human contact.

I lost track of the number of ‘doubles’ he bought me. I was still talking — he hadn’t said much of anything. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, laid it on the bar, then slid it towards me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“This is yours,” he said.

“What’s the catch?”

He laughed then he placed his hand on mine and squeezed it. “All you have to do is spend about 15 minutes in the front seat of my car.” He was looking directly in my eyes. “You, and this pretty little hand of yours — if you know what I mean?”

I blushed. I knew what he meant.

In the meantime I caught the bartender out of the corner of my eye looking at me as if he wanted to say something. He was slowly shaking his head from side-to-side.

My drinking companion looked at him, and in a flat, almost threatening voice, he told the bartender, “We’re just fine — thank you!”

I looked at the twenty on the bar. A couple weeks ago it would have meant nothing to me — now it meant I could eat something besides Ramen noodles. I folded it in my hand and put the twenty in my pocket.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I almost fell when I got off the bar stool. He caught me with his strong hands. We went to the men’s room on our way out. We stood side-by-side at the long trough. No one else was there. We pissed.

“Look at it,” he said.

My head was dizzy and swimming in alcohol. I looked at his cock. It was a lot longer than mine which was no surprise — I’m not very well-endowed. We zipped up and washed then went to his car. I climbed into the front seat, he sat beside me.

He took my hand and placed it on his crotch. He showed me how to rub him. My hand caressed the growing bulge in his pants. My fingers slid up-and-down bahis siteleri the clear outline of his cock.

“Open my pants and take out my cock!”

Even in my alcoholic haze I understood his words to be an order. I opened his pants, found his hard penis and brought it out of his shorts. My hand stroked it fast — I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

He had another idea — he slowed my hand; he wanted it to last longer.

This was the first time I ever felt another guys’ cock. It wasn’t at all bad. It actually felt pretty good in my hand. Warm and smooth. I was impressed at its length — I guessed seven inches. I couldn’t get my hand all the way around it. It was thick, too.

He never tried to touch me; he never said a word to me.

Finally he told me to go faster. I quickened my pace. He began to groan. Suddenly he grunted and I felt his cock explode. He caught much of his cum in his hand. When he was finished, he wiped his hand on my face. My face was slick with his cum. Then he ordered me to lick his hand. I obeyed him — there was something menacing about this guy and I didn’t want to make him mad. His cum tasted bitter and salty.

He said he’d drive me home. Where do I live? I wasn’t thinking clearly — I told him. I started to move near the passenger door, but he said, “Stay where you are!”

I was relieved when he parked the car in front of my building. I wanted to get away from him.

“There’s a bottle of Jack in a bag on the floor next to you — bring it inside!” I heard his door open.

Oh shit, I thought. He’s coming inside with me!

The alcohol had dimmed my senses and I didn’t know what to do or say. I grabbed the bottle and got out of the car. He walked beside me. I felt a strong hand on the back of my neck. I couldn’t get away even if the opportunity presented itself.

My apartment was tiny; it was an efficiency. When I opened the door the double-bed was to the right. There was a loveseat on the left. A counter with two barstools separated the living room/bedroom from the kitchen. A small bathroom was next to the kitchen.

“Pour us some drinks,” he ordered.

He sat on the loveseat and watched me. He spied my dvd player and television. “Have any dirty movies?” he asked.

I should have lied to him: “Yeah, ah…one,” I answered.

“Play it!”

I hadn’t re-winded the movie. It was somewhere in the middle. That’s as far as I ever watched when I masturbated.

We sat close together on the loveseat and watched the movie. He sipped his drink; I took large swallows. The guy in the movie had the girl kneel on the end of the bed. She spread her legs wide and we saw the rear view of her anatomy. The guy spit on his finger and inserted it into her anus. He worked it inside her. When he removed the finger he took his cock in his hand and pressed it against her back door. He gave a mighty shove and his cock disappeared into her asshole.

“I’ll bet that’s your favorite part,” he said to me.

I began to feel sick. I hope this guy doesn’t want more than I can give.

Then he said, “Rub my cock the way you did in the car.”

I massaged his cock through his pants. It stiffened. I squeezed it and did the best I could to make him happy.

“Take it out of my pants!”

I was nervous as hell. I was hoping he only wanted another handjob. I stroked him.

“Hold my balls with your other hand.”

His sac was huge; his balls were heavy. I cradled his balls in my hand and massaged his cock. I turned my head to the movie.

“Always look at my cock when you’re playing with it!” His voice was stern.

I did as I was told.

My body began to betray me. My own penis stiffened in my pants. I caressed and fondled his cock and balls for what seemed like a long time.

Suddenly he gripped the back of my neck and pulled my head to his crotch. His cock was inches from my face.

“Wet your lips and put them around my cock. I’m going to shoot in your mouth!”

No way in helI, I thought. I hesitated — he squeezed my neck hard. It hurt. I wet my lips and placed them over his cock.

“Lick the slit…when I cum, swallow it!”

This was a matter of survival now. I licked the slit on his cockhead while my hand furiously jacked his shaft. I did the best I could to make him cum.

He groaned. Hot cum squirted into my mouth. I fought thru the horrible taste as I swallowed over-and-over again. I couldn’t keep up. I gagged on his cock. Some of his jizz ran down my chin. When he was finished he made me lick him clean.

He stood and tucked himself in his pants. He took out his wallet and flipped it open. He had a police badge. At the bottom of it was engraved ‘Detective’. It looked real to me.

He looked me in the eyes and said: “If you mention this to anyone — I’ll have you arrested for prostitution, and you WILL go to prison!”

He left my apartment.

My hands started trembling. What the hell was that?

I picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels and drank from it, trying hard to get the canlı bahis siteleri awful taste of his cum out of my mouth.

I took 2-3 more swallows from the bottle before I fell on the bed and passed out.

It was afternoon when I awoke. I stumbled out of bed, went to the kitchen and took two aspirin. My head was pounding. I went back to bed.

The previous night flooded my memory.

‘The Man of Few Words’; I remembered his strong hands, and maniacal eyes. I shivered. What the hell am I going to do if he comes back? I fell asleep again.

I was hungry when I woke up. I remembered the 20 dollar bill in my pants pocket and decided to go eat at the café down the street. Without showering, I put on a baseball cap and went out the door.

The café was across the street from the gay bar I’d been in last night. I sat in a booth, able to see everyone who went in and out of the bar.

The café had a pot roast special. It was delicious. I lingered over a cup of coffee, watching the bar. I didn’t recognize anyone.

I can’t sit here all night, I told myself. I had to go home sooner or later. I paid the bill and walked slowly back to my apartment. I locked myself in and turned on the television. My heart was beating fast; I was waiting for the dreaded ‘knock-knock-knock’ on my door.

It never came. The next day was the same. I waited in fear but he never showed up.

The following day I felt pretty good. My nervousness had subsided, and I was able to concentrate on job-hunting on the computer. I convinced myself that ‘The Crazy Cop’ just wanted a one-night stand; that I’d never see him again.

It was getting late — 10:30. My eyes were tired from looking at the computer screen all day. Then came a knock on the door. My heart leapt into my throat! Shaking, I walked to the door.

“Who is it?” I demanded.

“Pizza!” said a high pitched, screechy voice.

This had happened before. A wrong address. I opened the door to tell the delivery driver he had the wrong place.


He smiled at me and repeated, “Pizza!” in a falsetto voice. I tried to slam the door shut but he was too quick. He burst into my room and pushed me onto the bed. I stared at him — my eyes wide, and mouth open in disbelief. He carried a small bag with him. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and placed it on the kitchen counter. Then he told me to stand.

I stood before him. He was five inches taller than me. I looked up at him.

I could smell whiskey on his breath. He was no longer smiling. “Take off your clothes!” he ordered.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I froze, not knowing what I should do.

His hand grabbed my throat. He choked me. I was gasping for air. He squeezed harder — I thought I was going to die.

“When I tell you to do something — you do it! No hesitating and no questions. You got that, pretty boy?” His face was contorted as he spit those words at me.

I nodded. He released my neck. My hands went to my throat. I’d really thought he was going to choke me to death!

“Now get those clothes off — I want to see you naked!”

I stripped. I stood before him naked.

He ran his big hands over my body. My skin crawled.

“Fix me a drink.” he said, and sat down on the loveseat.

I walked naked to the kitchen. My mind reeling. I had to do something. He might kill me tonight!

There was still some JD left from the previous night. I poured him a tumbler full of whiskey over ice. He didn’t say anything about fixing myself a drink so I didn’t.

I figured I had one chance. I had to get outside. I’d pound on doors until someone helped me. I didn’t care that I was nude.

I walked back to him and stood in front of him. He glared at me. I threw the drink in his face and ran for the door. I unlocked the door and turned the handle. The door opened — I was almost free. Then his strong hand pushed the door shut with a bang.

He didn’t say a word. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back and pushed me to the bed. He shoved me face down on the bed — his hand almost breaking my arm. He pushed my head into my pillow — I could barely breath. Then his free hand reached between my legs and found my balls. He squeezed them hard.

“AAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH….” I screamed into the pillow.

He quit squeezing but still held my balls. A few seconds went by. He squeezed them hard again. The pillow muffled my cries for help. The pain was excruciating. Again he relaxed his grip. Then again he gripped my balls and squeezed them. I thought I would pass out from the pain. He finally let go. I lay face down, moaning, unbelievable pain shooting through my balls. I was sweating and my whole body shook.

“You try that again, pretty boy, you’ll wish you were never born!”

I wished I’d never been born already.

I lay there a long time. Naked on the bed. My balls ached. I had no hope. I was alone with this crazy cop. I heard the rustle of clothing — he was undressing. He left his boxers on.

I heard him walk to the kitchen canlı bahis and pour himself another drink. He returned to the loveseat..

“Get up and stand in front of me!” he ordered.

I climbed off the bed. The pain in my balls was subsiding.

“Clasp your hands behind your neck — open your legs wider!”

I posed before him. He didn’t touch me. He just looked. He was leisurely sipping his drink.

“Turn around and bend over — I want to see your pussy!”

My pussy? It took a few seconds before I realized what he meant.

“Spread your legs wider — reach back with your hands and open your asscheeks!”

I felt a cool rush of air on my anus as I fully exposed myself to him. I’d never felt so demoralized and degraded in my life.

I heard the ice rattle in his glass, he had finished his drink.

“From now on, whenever I tell you to do something you’ll do it and say ‘Yes, Sir’, understand, pretty boy?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Get on your knees between my legs!”

“Yes, Sir.”

I obeyed him. I decided I would obey him the rest of the night. He was crazy enough to hurt me real bad, or even kill me.

He pulled off his boxers. I stared at his cock. It was big, purple and angry. I waited for him to command me.

“Hold my balls in you right hand.”

“Yes, Sir”, I obeyed.

“Place your fingers around the base of my cock.”

“Yes, Sir”, I obeyed.

“Wet your lips and take my cock in your mouth — if I feel your teeth — I’ll hang you by your balls and no one will find you for days!”

I shivered at the thought of it, “Yes, Sir”.

“Now suck my cock, pretty boy!”

His cockhead muffled my, “Yes, Sir”.

My lips and tongue methodically worked on his cock. My tongue ran over-and-over the velvety flesh of his cockhead while my lips slid up-and-down his shaft, taking as much of his cock in my mouth as I could. My fingers massaged and stroked his shaft. My hand lightly rubbed his balls. I sucked and licked and stroked his flesh. I heard him groan.

I increased the tempo of my hand on his shaft. My sucking became more insistent. I coated his cockhead with my saliva.

“Swallow every drop of it, pretty boy!”

I moaned my reply. I was ready for his orgasm this time. My tongue pressed against his cum-slit and lapped-up his jizz. He bucked his hips wildly, as he shot load-after-load of hot spunk into my mouth. When he was finished, I felt proud — I was actually able to swallow all his cum.

“Lick it clean!”

“Yes, Sir”.

I stayed on my knees staring at his now-deflated penis. He handed me his glass.

“Make me a drink!”

“Yes, Sir”.

I brought him his drink and dropped back to my knees before him. He smiled.

He inched his hips forward on the loveseat then raised and spread his legs.

“Why don’t you suck my asshole while I have a drink, pretty boy?”

Huh? His asshole? I’d never heard of such a thing! “Yes, Sir”.

I had to muster every ounce of courage and strength I had in order to obey his command. As my face got closer and closer to his anus, the smell hit my nostrils like a punch. I kept going.

“I want to feel your lips and tongue on my asshole!”

“Yes, Sir”

I closed my eyes and kissed his hole and ran my tongue around it. My lips and tongue stayed busy on his asshole.

“Curl-up your tongue, and tongue-fuck my asshole, pretty boy!”

“Yes, Sir”

“Press your face into my ass, boy! I want to feel your tongue sliding in and out of my asshole! Now do it!”

And I thought I’d felt degraded before — that was nothing compared to this!

My face was scrunched-up into his butt as I pushed my tongue as far into his asshole as I could. The taste and smell didn’t matter — I was just trying to breath.

I tongue-fucked his asshole a long time while he sipped his whiskey.

Finally, he pushed my head away from him. I gasped for air. He laughed. I saw that his cock was rock-hard again.

“Kneel on the bed, pretty boy!”

“Yes, Sir”. Oh-oh, I thought.

I was on all fours near the end of the bed. He pushed my legs wide apart with his hands. Then I felt a cool liquid being applied to my anus.

“Is your pussy virgin, pretty boy?”

Oh God. “Ah…Yes, Sir.”

“Open it, boy. Reach back and open your pussy for me!”

Oh my God. I pulled apart my bottom-cheeks for him.

His finger worked the liquid into my hole. It hurt. He was in no hurry — the probing finger was inside me a long time.

“Relax your sphincter, boy…relax….”

“Yes, Sir.”

I discovered it hurt less if I did loosen my sphincter. Closing it was a reflex action — I had to concentrate fully on keeping it open for him.

He pulled away from me. I stayed in my humiliating position for some time. When he returned he leaned over me and pinched my nostrils closed, when my mouth opened to gasp for air he shoved a small rubber ball into my mouth. Then he tied a strap around the back of my head. My mouth was effectively silenced.

“The first couple times I fuck you, boy, could be pretty painful. Now you can scream all you want.”

My whole body shivered.

“Take hold of my cock, and put it in your pussy!”

He ordered me to help with my own rape!

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