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In every civil business arrangement, there are lines you shouldn’t cross. Alvin should’ve known better than breaking his promise to the Boss.
But that kid was always a bit too cocky for his own good. Or, maybe “optimistic” is a better word.
I met with Alvin when Boss introduced us to the up-and-coming baseball stud he started sponsoring. Despite the majority of the party guests wearing formal dress, he was clad in some skin-tight jeans, a black leather jacket, and a white T-shirt, like an Asian James Dean. He had a handsome face with still some baby fat on it, crew-cut black hair hidden under his lucky cap.
When Boss speaks, I listen. Still, I have to admit, statistics about home runs and league scores kinda went over my head. I was too busy checking out those spectacular tights clad in form-fitting denim. Alvin was a power hitter but his stride always impressed me more than his (admittedly still impressive) arms.
My first impression was that the kid slept his way into having the city’s most infamous mob boss as his sponsor but after having a nice, long chat with him over drinks, I realized that Alvin hardly knew who he was exactly getting into a contract with.
The naive baseball player just thought that he was lucky to find a rich sponsor so early in his carrier. He was from a poor family, fresh to a big city, and had more talent than common sense. Frankly, it’d be unusual if he didn’t get himself into trouble sooner than later.
Still, you couldn’t tell he wasn’t a good investment. That season, Alvin must have broken a record or two. He was on top of his game and fans loved his good looks and cheerful demeanor. Even I was swept by the youthful energy and had one of the younger guys in the gang create me an Instagram account to follow Alvin and his daily dose of innocent half-naked exercise selfies.
Even him being gay didn’t cause a problem. Oh yeah, he was gay. Anyone with a half-working gaydar could see how he blushed when a pretty twink smiled at him. Still, he wasn’t out (maybe he wasn’t even aware of it himself) so there were no scandals.
For six months or so, everything went perfectly. I even stopped fantasizing about the Boss’s boy toy and tried seeing him as a newbie to take under my wings.
Then came the match-fixing request.
I still don’t know what pushed the Boss into betting against his prized stud. A favor from an old friend? To test his loyalty? A chance to see that confident face crumble into disappointment? Hard to say. Either way, Alvin needed to make his team lose in the next match. Badly.
I was there when Boss explained the situation to Alvin. The boy was crestfallen. He had his fists clenched the whole time. He even tried giving Boss the lip, asking him how he could do something so dishonorable.
Even if was stupidity, I was a little amazed. Some guys in the gang gained themselves a one-way ticket to the BDSM club downtown for less.
Still, Boss was gentle. I think he was something in Alvin that reminded him of his son. Or maybe the old wolf was stuck on the young, defiant puppy. Who can say?
After Alvin stomped away to his first-class hotel room, Boss sighed and started watching the scenery from his high office room. Even when he was silent, I could tell that he was thinking the same thing as me: If only Alvin chose the easy way.
He then turned to me and asked me to persuade Alvin. The match was in two days and he didn’t want to take any chances.
That we could agree on. I also didn’t want to take any chances when I was so used to having the kid around.
I went to Alvin’s hotel a little before midnight, knowing by his strict sleep schedule, that he’d be asleep already. Poor little thing wasn’t even aware that his hotel belonged to Boss and I had a copy of his keys from day 1.
To my surprise, he was asleep in front of the TV, with some old noir movie playing on low sound, head resting on the couch's back, and arms hanging loose on his sides.
Alvin must have undressed in a hurry, as his clothes and sneakers were scattered on the floor. He was wearing nothing but white half-crew socks and a black jockstrap with a designer’s logo on it. His bouncy chest and even the tight abs above the waistband were completely smooth, with only his thick legs having some hair on them.
I already had a good idea about what his clothed cock looked like (those baseball pants don’t hide much) but he was even more tantalizing when vulnerable like this.
One part of me wants to have some fun with him while he's still around. But even if he was into me, the thought of what I have to do to him would keep me from doing so. Plus, he's still the property of the Boss and the Boss doesn't like his men playing with his toys.
I quietly put down and opened the duffel bag I brought with me. It's a big one, the biggest one I have but there's only some rope, a small sponge, and a roll of black electrical tape inside. The bag is not for my equipment, it's to get Alvin outside if I need to.
As gently as I can, I took the kid’s wrists and tie them in front of him. It’s not very tight, more rope than knots but it’d work for now. It took a bit more time to tie his ankles, as he was less sensitive there due to the socks. Still, by the end, he started stirring and moaning in his sleep.
I’ve run out of time. As nice as ogling his body while he was asleep, it made me feel a bit creepy so it was good that Alvin was waking up.
Grabbing my sponge, I reached out and pulled his jaw down, opening his lips. There’s even some drool escaped from them. Cute.
When I pushed the stuffing inside, Alvin’s eyes predictably shot open and he let out a muffled cry. Without losing a beat, I clammed my gloved hand over his mouth, giving him a few seconds to get his surroundings.
Alvin tried pushing me off him but when he realized he was tied hands and feet, his movement became more confused. Erratic.
The young hitter might be muscular but he’s leaner and lighter than me. Even with his hands being in front of him, I could push them down with one hand while keeping him tightly handgagged with the other. Alvin’s still groggy self couldn’t fight back effectively.
I told him to calm down and explained to him just how badly he screwed things up. How he should calm down and stop fighting because I had a gun (this was true, even if I didn’t intend to use it). How it was meaningless to fight back because the Boss knew all of his contacts and friends in the city. How he could get himself out of this.
Just throw the game.
Alvin’s face shifted from fear to concentration to finally defiance. He waited for me to finish, gulped slowly, and then slowly shook his head. His eyes were rebellious.
His pride and respect for the sport he played prevented him from willfully losing. That, even I could say. The kid had dignity.
I took out the tape and slapped it on his lips, then pushed him to the floor, telling him to stay down. To my surprise, Alvin complied. He still seemed disappointed but at least he didn’t try thrashing around. He was a sight to behold, his lucky cap still on and his nipples perked from the cool touch of marble tiles against his naked ass.
Still, I didn’t intend to leave him out of my sight. I crouched on top of him, straddling his half-naked form. Lifting his hands above his head with one hand, I called the Boss.
Sure, I could keep him in this room until the game ends but what then? The Boss wasn’t going to be less dissatisfied and there wasn’t a man in this city that could help him to get away from the clutches of his sponsor. The best way, to be honest.
I told the Boss that I had Alvin. Yes, he was under control. No, he wasn’t going to rig the game. Yes, this was a problem. No, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.
Right as the Boss started talking about making Alvin disappear by selling him to an underground bondage club, I felt something hard poking my ass.
Under me, it was obvious that Alvin was straining in his jock’s pouch. When he looked down and saw where my eyes were glued to, he blushed, trying to will away his erection. In practice, it only made his trapped hardon jiggle in its thin cloth confinement.
If I had any doubts before, they have vanished. Alvin enjoyed being manhandled by an older guy who had his trussed-up self under complete dominion.
Alvin let out a frustrated huff from his nose and I had an idea.
I waited for the Boss to finish, still watching the mesmerizing under me who refused to bring his tied hands down and cover himself. Then, I gave him a proposal.
He knew that I was no stranger to training newbies. Now, Alvin could bring a pretty penny with his pretty face but wasn’t he a big investment? Wouldn’t it be better to keep him and turn the hitter into a more compliant asset?
I heard an engrossed hum from the other side of the phone and I knew I had a chance.
My offer was for him to give me a month. Alvin would miss the next game and between seasons, he could keep up with his baseball training while I would train him to be a good, obedient muscle puppy.
As I talked, Alvin made some muffled noises of protest under me. I pinched one of his nipples and put my hand back over his lower face. I wish he had the smarts to give up. This was the best chance he could get.
I didn’t want him to be a gimp in one of the clubs that the Boss’s business associates ran. The thought of a horse of faceless strangers groping the sweet, cheerful Alvin, restrained and muzzled in a seedy dungeon was too much to bear.
Now, I couldn’t deny that I had ulterior motives. Having my hands on Alvin with the Boss’s permission to do what is necessary to break him? With a dreamy stud like this, it was a jackpot.
But I also genuinely warmed up to this dense boy and wanted him to have at least something resembling a future.
When the other side ended the call, Alvin grumbled. Secretly into this or not, the young buck couldn’t help to test my limits.
"Trust me, kid, I'm doing this for your good." I ripped out a strip of tape and gingerly placed it over his beautiful, brown eyes. His earnest betrayed look was too much to bear.
Ignoring his muffled pleas, I began reinforcing his bonds and thought about what to do. I could easily knock him out, carry him into an abandoned warehouse and break him over the weekend. But I wanted, no, needed to keep him as himself and not just turn the boy into a mindless gimp.
I never had to navigate such as tightrope. And I only had one month. Could I succeed?
Alvin groaned confusedly as I let my head drop on his warm, broad chest with a sigh.
You gotta do this, Teddy, I told to myself. You gotta do this for the kid.
THE END
