Bound in Byzantine Bonds: A Simon DuWright Adventure (MMM/MMM) Updated with Chapter XVIII 12/31/22

[privateandrews]

oh my gosh so hot.... the use of a magic act to kidnap the men is a great idea... and just after they had got to know each other fully.

[KidnappedCowboy]

oh my gosh so hot.... the use of a magic act to kidnap the men is a great idea... and just after they had got to know each other fully.

Thanks so much, [mention]privateandrews [/mention]!

I really want to write characters who have a great deal of layers to them...not just one dimensional characters. Osian and Griff have just found each other...they're reveling in the love they have for each other...and then it's taken away!

Comments like yours and others keeps me writing more.

From the bottom of my heart...thank you!

[DeeperThanRed]

Agreed, Griff and Osian adore each other and this makes their shared scenes much better, including the surprising and welcomed love-making part. The escape act is a classic but I love how you've incorporated stage magic elements to it. Great chapter.

[notreallyme06]

I am always so excited when a new chapter is added. One of the hottest stories ever on here. I love all the detail ... plus the troves of gagged athletes.

[Tsuhaya]

I love this story, your descriptions of bondage are incredible, I love all the well thought out plans to kidnap athletes. Incredible work!

[george_bound]

Well well that was quite the show indeed... I absolutely love how our rugby studs ended up tied face to face tight against each other's body with wrists bound tightly behind other's back... really loved the set up and how he sensed something wasn't right, but alas too late! I was really hoping though that the hot police detective from Chicago was going to be abducted as well but his bondage was so hot to read, especially the ball gag he got to take home as a souvenir

As they're now heading to Argentina with the circus troupe, I wonder if the jocks will find themselves captive company with an Argentine footie team, haha

[KidnappedCowboy]

Thank you to all who have taken the time to read this saga, and I am especially grateful to the guys who took the time to leave a comment.

You keep me going. Here's Chapter XIII. It's a long one, but I do break it in parts to make it easier to read in installments, if you wish.


Chapter XIII: Stolen Studs And A Stolen Smooch

A Hotel in Montréal, Québec: Early Sunday Morning
After Simon caught Hugh going through his rucksack and Hugh told him about his kidnapped kid brother, the two police inspectors spent the next few hours working out a plan. When he met the contact that Sunday morning, Hugh would give him a USB Flash Drive. On it were documents that Simon had doctored making it look as if the RCMP believed the Slobobians were responsible for the missing athletes. Simon removed any reference to Byzantine Imports, such as the business card that the coach of the Leicester twins received the day following the disappearance of the brothers. It would appear as if the coach had mistaken the card as promotional and had never given it to the Force. The documents instead referred to sightings of the Slobobian Ivan Whiplashtski around Montreal, so Simon had come from Vancouver under the cover of the tennis tournament to investigate those leads. If all went well, Michael Palaiologos would believe that the RCMP and Simon had no idea his business was other that what it appeared to be – an international sports apparel and equipment supplier.

Hugh awakened to the familiar “Noir” sound from his iPhone alerting him to an incoming text at 6 am. Simon was already up and was just completing his meditation routine. Still wearing only his white 2xist briefs, Simon walked over and stood beside Hugh’s bed. After reading the text, Hugh passed the iPhone to Simon to read. Like the previous texts and e-mails Hugh had received with pictures of his brother tied up and silenced in a variety of positions, restraints, and gags, the text came from an unknown and untraceable number. The text concerned only information where and when Hugh would meet his contact. He was to be at the Tim Hortons in the Montreal Convention Centre – the Palais des Congrès de Montréal – at 8 that morning.

“Well then, we better get ready.” Simon gave an assuring smile to Hugh.

Hugh rose from his bed to shower and shave. By 6:20 he was pulling on a pair of 541 Levi’s over his lime-colored Jockey sport-stretch, tech-performance brief, when Simon emerged from the bathroom freshly showered and shaved as well.

“Geez, Man – I cannot find a decent pair of jeans to fit over my big bum.” Hugh complained as he shimmied into, zippered, and buttoned his Levi’s.

“Ha! Ha!” Simon laughed. “I know the problem – and it’s a bigger one for my boyfriend. He’s a bobsledder. Johnny has a beautiful bedonkadonk to me – it’s a beefy, brawny beast with its own postal code. But he needs to let out the seat in his jeans, whenever he buys a new pair. You need to find a good tailor, Hugh.”

“Or just opt for track pants.” Hugh chuckled, as he pulled on a classic piqué polo in light grey cut to be worn untucked. Light colored socks and Skechers completed his look.

The light-hearted banter was good for the men, taking their thoughts from – however briefly – the seriousness of their mission and the danger therein. Hugh sat in a chair by the small round table in the room to tie the laces of his Skechers, while Simon dressed. The Mountie from Vancouver pulled on a pair of 2xist dri-mesh, no-show trunks. They had a black and blue swirly pattern to them that appeared 3D to the eye. Hugh couldn’t help but admit to himself that the underwear added more sexiness to a man already dripping in it. In the brief time they had known each other, Hugh got the impression that Simon was a confident man – but not one to blow his own horn. That balance of qualities and the compassion which he showed to Hugh only a few hours before made Simon very desirable – “That bobsledder is one lucky guy! I hope he knows it!” Hugh thought to himself. Hugh tried not to stare as Simon continued dressing. Simon pulled on a pair of white crew socks before stepping into a pair of Levi’s similar to Hugh’s own. And Hugh couldn’t help but notice that Simon’s bodacious buns filled the jeans out quite nicely. Simon then donned a RCMP Vancouver black tee-shirt – fit perfectly to accent the ripped physique of his upper body.

For the next hour, the men went over the plan again and again to make sure Hugh had gotten it down pat, in case the contact was suspicious about how he obtained the information they wanted. Hugh was prepared to tell him that his anti-terrorist training in Manitoba made it possible for him to spy on Simon. Putting his anti-hacking training to use, Hugh had hacked into Simon’s laptop, where he uncovered files related to Simon’s presence in Montreal. He transferred those files to the USB Drive, and Simon was none the wiser to it.

“You’re ready, Hugh.” Simon assured him.

Hugh grabbed his wallet, iPhone, and the USB drive, then grabbed his coat. Hugh was nervous. Simon went over and gave Hugh a hug.

“It will be okay. You are a RCMP Inspector, Hugh. Your training has prepared you for this. We’ll get Danny back safely.”

“Thank you, Simon.”

“I’ll be waiting for you right here.”

They shook hands, and Hugh left the room alone, in case he was under surveillance. Taking the elevator down to the lobby, Hugh left the hotel and got into a taxi cab outside. Hugh settled back into the backseat and gazed out the window, as the cabbie drove to the Palais des Congrès.

“Simon really cut me a break. I could have been in such deep trouble with the Force for not reporting Danny’s kidnapping to them and his kidnappers blackmailing me! Jeez – I could have lost my career. But he heard me out. And he’s helping me – I barely know him, but I trust him. He’s given me courage again. He’ll help me get Danny back, Together we’ll find those missing athletes, break up this kidnapping ring – and bring the masterminds behind it to justice.”

With no traffic on the roads that early on a Sunday morning in downtown Montreal, the cab arrived at the Convention Center in no time at all. Hugh paid the fare, and he walked into the nearly deserted Center. Hugh quickly found the Tim Hortons near the doors past the métro entrance.

Hugh ordered an extra-large double cream no sugar and after paying for it, took a stool on the bench facing the wall. He picked up the sports page of the Gazette left by another customer on a table. On the back page, an article on recent tragedies in the sports world caught his eye. Hugh began to read of the loss at sea of a French rugby player a few months ago over the Holidays. He had gone fishing on a day-trip while in New Zealand. The boat had never returned to harbor, and the French scrum-half along with its three-man crew – including a father and son – were presumed drowned. Two Welsh rugby players had also never returned from holiday in Thailand. They had simply vanished without a trace, after checking out of their hotel. The Italian Olympic skier – known as “Il Ballerino” for his agility and grace on the slopes – had been kidnapped along with a popular Indian film actor and model after a terrorist raid on a posh resort in Kashmir, where the two men were participating in a charity event. There were no ransom notes. The terrorists had taken the two men and disappeared into the mountains. And they had not been heard from or seen since the attack on the resort. Lastly, two Irish rugby players disappeared in the UAE, while there for an exhibition match. The Irishmen failed to return to their hotel after a night of partying at the most exclusive night club in Dubai.

All the missing persons – including those presumed dead – had few or no living relatives. The teams and representatives of the missing athletes and missing actor had all issued statements mourning their losses. The presumed sinking of the fishing boat and presumed drownings of the French rugby player and its crew was deemed a horrific tragedy. In the case of the skier and actor, who had vanished, their governments and agents vowed to do everything possible for their safe return, but the governments would not negotiate with terrorists. As for the Welsh and Irish rugby players, the owners of their rugby clubs appealed to the authorities in Thailand and the UAE to vigorously investigate and find the missing men, but they also issued statements confessing there was not much they could do. The article’s author saw in the tragedies a common thread of the dangers of the contemporary world and the naivete of young men, who take unnecessary risks whilst on holiday. Hugh took a sip of his coffee, as he finished reading the article. He began to consider all these disappearances as not coincidental, and he thought Danny’s kidnapping too must be part of this pattern.

“You should take those missing athletes as a warning as to what might happen to your brother. You wouldn’t want Danny to come to any harm, would you?”

Hugh was so engrossed with the article that he failed to notice a man had taken a seat next to his. He looked over and saw a man about 30 years of age, of European extraction, short black hair, dark eyes, and with a muscular build. He wore black jeans, black turtleneck, and a short down, black puffer jacket.

“How do I know my brother is still alive? And he will stay alive.”

“See for yourself.” The man pushed a cell phone on the breakfast bar towards him. Hugh swiped at it. There was a video of Danny tied back to back to another man. He was in a speedo. The other man was a Black man – taller than Danny, more muscular. They were bound to each other at the ankles, above and below the knees, again at their upper thighs, their waists. Their wrists were tied in front of them but held close to their bodies by more rope. More rope trussed their torsos together around their upper arms and across their backs and chests. Danny and the other man were gagged with layers of black, gaffer tape. And they were held in a narrow iron-barred cage that barely contained them. Whoever shot the video walked around the cage, so Hugh could see the full effect of the “bind” Danny and his companion were in. The videographer stopped in front of the cage with the door still open, where Danny faced the camera. He looked so frightened. Hugh heard him plead to be let go behind his tape-gag. Then the cage door was shut and locked. The video ended.

“This was shot just a few hours ago. Your brother is safe – for now.”

“And the other man?” Hugh asked.

“Your only concern is your brother. Do what we say, and you shall see him again.”

“So, help me – if you harm one hair on his head, I will tear you limb from limb.” Hugh vowed and drew himself up in his stool and into the man’s space.

“Easy now, Inspector – back down onto your stool.” A man said quietly but firmly on the other side of Hugh.

Hugh had not noticed him sit down to his left before. Hugh looked over at him. He was a large man – hulking menace came to Hugh’s mind as he took him in. Hugh eased back down onto the stool.

“And – do you have anything for us, Inspector?”

Hugh took the USB Drive from his jacket, put it on the bench, and slid it towards the man.

“I was able to download files onto this stick from Simon DuWright’s laptop”

“Good. And how do we know that DuWright didn’t realize that you hacked into his computer?”

Hugh looked straight at the man before he answered. Then in an even voice, he responded, “Just as I have your word that my brother is safe, so you have my word that Simon DuWright is not aware that I tampered with his laptop.”

The man returned Hugh’s gaze for a long time before speaking.

“Good. You’ll hear from us again.” The man picked up the USB drive and put it in his jacket pocket.

He got up to leave. Hugh grasped his left arm.

“What about Danny? When will you release him?”

“You’ll have to wait, Inspector Warwick – until we decide you and he are no longer of use to us.”

His companion put a hand on Hugh’s shoulder. Hugh shrugged him off, but he stopped himself from doing more – for Danny’s sake. The men rose from their stool and left the Tim Hortons. Hugh sat for a moment, and then followed them out into the Convention Center. There was no sign of them. Hugh went outside and hailed a cab. He returned to the hotel.

Simon was waiting in the hotel room, when Hugh got back. He was seated at the table in the room. Hugh sat down at the table to brief him on the meeting. When he was finished, the two Mounties sat in silence for a moment. Then Simon reached over the table and grasped Hugh’s hands in his.

“As I promised you earlier, Hugh – We’ll find Danny – this other man who’s being held with him too – and the other missing men. We will. You’ve got to hold onto that. There’s not much we can do now, until we hear from the kidnappers again. We need to take our minds off it – at least for a little while.”

Hugh looked at Simon. There was such sadness in his eyes. “I can’t, Simon – knowing that Danny is in the clutches of such villainous vipers – how can I?”


“You can and you will. Look – whenever I’m at a dead end in a case, I work out. It helps to clear my mind. It gives me energy. And it lets me take out my frustrations in a productive way. Come on – let’s hit the gym at the university – pump some iron – and we can end with a swim. What do you say -eh?”

Hugh sat silent, and then he looked at Simon and saw such understanding in his eyes.

“Okay.” Hugh murmured in reply.

Sunday Afternoon: Westmount, Montréal, Québec: The Estate of Michael Palaiologos

Peter deVere brought the report of the meeting with Hugh Warwick at Tim Horton’s that morning to Michael Palaiologos, and now he waited at ease in his master’s mahogany paneled study while Palaiologos finished reading it. When he was done, Palaiologos closed the report, placed it on top of his mahogany desk, and sat forward in his overstuffed chair. He raised his arms on his elbows on his desk, laced the fingers of his hands together, and raised his index fingers over his lips. He sat like this for some time, deep in thought, then a smile slowly came to him, and he looked up at his manservant.

“So, the darling of the Vancouver Mounted Police – Inspector Simon DuWright – believes that Ivan Whiplashtski and his Slobobian stalwarts are behind the disappearances of the missing athletes?”

“It would appear so from the information on the USB Drive that Inspector Warwick gave us, sir.” Peter answered.

“And Warwick?”

“He awaits further instructions from us, sir.”

“Very good.” Palaiologos rose from his desk and walked over to the picture window with the grand views of the gardens and wooded areas of his estate. Forsythia and daffodils were just beginning to bloom. Palaiologos stood looking out the window for some time. Finally, he turned to face Peter deVere. He bore a wide smile, and he had a twinkle in his eye.

“Well – if Inspector DuWright believes Ivan Whiplashtski and the Slobobians are here in Montreal and are responsible for the missing athletes, I do not think we should disappoint him. I’ll place a call to Whiplashtski and offer him a proposition – we’ll bring him in on our plan to take down the intrepid but inquisitive inspector. He must have operatives here in Montreal who can put together an operation on short notice. Tomorrow evening, I am hosting various teams from the tournament -- including the RCMP tennis team and two tennis players who represent the Canadian Armed Forces – at a reception here at the estate. How many tennis players and coaches represent the RCMP?”

“Including DuWright and Warwick, there are six players and two coaches, Sir,” deVere answered.

“Alright – I will persuade Whiplashtski to kidnap the RCMP team, their coaches, and the two players from the CAF – all except DuWright and Warwick. A car will bring them separately to the estate from their hotel. The RCMP always uses the same car service. I am sure that Whiplashtski’s agents can arrange to take the places of the drivers who are supposed to bring the tennis team here. Inform Warwick that he is to make sure that he and DuWright will be late, so that they will miss the car that picks their teammates up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Once DuWright and Warwick are here, keep a close watch on them. Do not underestimate that Mountie from Vancouver. I do not entirely trust the information from this USB Drive. It may have been planted. I suspect that DuWright’s curiosity may get the best of him at the reception, and he may attempt to roam around the estate. If he does, we will give him quite the reception.”

“Very good, sir.”
“It’s time for me to greet my last acquisitions – DuWright’s lover and the American cowboy…”

There was a knock on the door to the study.

“Yes?” Michael Palaiologos inquired.

Patrick Penrith entered, walked across the plush Persian carpet, and stood beside Peter deVere. Peter completely ignored him.

“Ah – Penrith, you’re just in time.”

“Yes, sir. Johnny Trudeau and Bucky Johnson have been prepared for your inspection.” Penrith informed Palaiologos.

“Brother deVere, please contact Inspector Warwick and give him his instructions.” Palaiologos ordered his manservant.

“I will attend to it at once, sir” Peter gave a short bow of his head to his master and left the study without the slightest acknowledgment of Penrith’s presence. Penrith followed Peter
leaving with his eyes, but he tried not to betray his annoyance at what he saw as deVere’s snub of him. Michael Palaiologos did not let that go unnoticed.

“Is there something wrong, Brother Penrith?”

“No, Master.”

“Brother Penrith – take this advice to heart. Put your sentiments – jealousy or revulsion, for instance – to more effective purposes. Use those emotions to get ahead. The Order rewards those who outperform others.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Now – shall we attend to the Canadian bobsledder and the American rancher?”

“Yes, sir.”

Penrith followed his master out of the study, down the hall, and to the elevator to descend to the cells below.

Sunday Afternoon: Westmount, Montréal, Québec: The Depths Below the Estate of Michael Palaiologos

Bucky -- you’ve found yourself chewing gravel before, but you never found yourself up a tree like this one – literally hanging from the rafters! Here I am –sheathed in an ultra-tight casing of sorts resembling a sausage – trussed up like a prize bull and wearing nothing but my birthday suit underneath – chewin’ on a kerchief smelling like some man’s cock fur – then muzzled with black tape around my head like some rabid hound dog – and finally suspended from the ceiling in a webbed cage made of strong black leather straps. And to top it all off – before they cocooned me, they buzzed my body hair, trimmed my man nest, and coated me with some resin all over that has made me friskier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Jeez Louise – my gun has been loaded ever since – pointed straight up against my belly and ready to shoot at the slightest touch – I’m so aching for release! This goo that is coating me though – it’s as if it were crawling all over me – especially my cock and balls. Just when I think I’m about to cum – somehow it knows – and WHAM! It presses down on me like a red-hot branding iron and won’t let me release my man seed. And then it begins all over again.

Next to me is another man hanging from the rafters. We were strung up side by side, and he was tied up, sacked just like I am, and he’s sporting a stiffy straining for discharge too. The cocoons in which we find ourselves are made – as far as I can surmise – from a neoprene-like material, but it’s thinner, more pliable, very confining, and evidently stronger, since it clings to our bodies like a second skin. We can barely move inside them – restrained as we are – even our slight movements cause our leather woven cages to slowly rotate. They suspended us so close to each other that our bodies brush up against one another as we spin in slow circles – causing me to get even more randy. And from what I can see, my cellmate is experiencing the same torment. Those varmints designed our bondage and confinement to afflict sadistic torture on us.

My fellow captive – the Canadian Olympic Bobsledder Johnny Trudeau – as I learned when we were subjected to manhandling by those cruel doctors in that laboratory – has it worse than I. At least, I can see and hear. After trimming the little coat of hair Johnny has on his body and pruning his man cabbage, our abductors plastered his body with the same sticky pitch as they had done with me. Then they lassoed him up good, before stuffing him in this sausage casing. The poor fella – those scalawags inserted some black goop into Johnny’s ears to prevent him from hearing even the slightest sound, and they then placed a tight-fitting hood on him to blind him. It leaves only the lower portion of his face visible. But I can tell Johnny’s no tenderfoot. He cowboyed up and struggled as best he could against these man rustlers, when they hobbled him so. For some reason the men who kidnapped us want to make sure that Johnny suffers more – the lowdown, dirty bastards.

I can hardly believe the last 48 hours – kidnapped from my own home, dragged up into the mountains, handed off from one set of kidnappers to another, forced into a union-suit two sizes too small, trussed up in some intricately woven bondage, drugged, gagged, deposited in an airplane, flown from the western United States to Canada, and then driven several hours to where they’re holding me captive now. And what happened in that van on the ride here and in that laboratory... my god – why do I see Trey Shannon whenever I look at that younger doctor? Trey – my best buddy from college – the best wide receiver a quarterback could ever ask for! Trey – the guy I fell in love with – the guy I thought loved me! He broke my heart. He promised that he would love me forever – and then he betrayed me – so he could get a pro contract. I thought I was over him. Why then do I see him in that doctor? If only I fought those man rustlers harder…

Black Rope Rustlers Carry Off The Cattleman To Canada

Bucky watched as Nick Romanov walked away after shutting the doors of the twin-engine Beechcraft Baron G58. Confused as his mind was from the fumes of the substance that coated the black tape gagging him, the cattle rancher still had the presence of mind to know that he was in a heap of trouble with little hope of escape or rescue for the foreseeable future. The pilot quickly prepared for takeoff. Bucky soon saw the trees rush past, as the plane accelerated down the makeshift runway, and before long the plane was airborne, heading north to Canada. Tied up in an hishi-kikkou style harness and with his legs bound tightly together, Bucky could not struggle much. He looked at the two men dressed in the well-fitted ninja style clothes who faced him. They did not speak to him, but they never took their eyes off him for a minute.

About thirty minutes into the flight, Bucky had grown more lightheaded from the drugged tape-gag, and one of the men noticed his wooziness. The man smiled at Bucky, and – strangely enough –Bucky felt his cock twitch. The man kept smiling, and Bucky tried to look away – yet for some reason he could not resist that smile. The more Bucky tried to resist, the more erect his cock became. And soon the mushroom head of his cock poked out from the space between the buttons of the body-hugging union-suit he had been forced to wear. The other man opposite Bucky now smiled at him too. Bucky tried to close his eyes and wrestle free from the intoxicating and arousing effects of his drugged state, but he couldn’t. He spent the rest of the plane’s flight spellbound to the men across from him and fully aroused.

Bucky had fallen into a withdrawn state for the duration of the flight, and his cock remained rigid the whole time. He only recovered from his libidinous listlessness slowly, as the plane began its descent, and the two men broke their gazes from him. Bucky was soon aware that the wheels of the Beechcraft Baron touched ground, the plane deaccelerated on the runway, and taxied to its destination. By then it was dark, and Bucky could only make out a few nondescript buildings and hangars – the usual sights at any airport. The only thing Bucky could ascertain was that they landed in what appeared to be a remote location. The plane made its way to an open hangar, which was brightly lit from inside.

As soon as the Beechcraft Baron was inside the hangar, someone closed the doors behind the aircraft. There were three black-colored SUVs with darkened windows inside the large hangar, as well as a white van. Several men dressed in fitted, black trousers and fitted, black turtleneck sweaters similar to the men accompanying Bucky stood alongside the vehicles. At least two of them were armed with semi-automatic weapons. Once the plane had stopped and the pilot cut the engine off, a young, well-built man dressed like the others but also wearing a white lab coat stepped from behind the white van and walked to the plane’s door. Two men stood behind him. One carried a semi-automatic weapon. The man in the white lab coat opened the door to the airplane.

“Any difficulties?” He asked, as he looked the intricately bound and gagged Bucky up and down. Dr. Jules Mazarin was 30 years old. Like the guard-attendants of Michael Palaiologos’ branch of the Order of the Black Rope, he had an athletic, muscular physique. He stood 6’2” tall and weighed approximately 230 lb. He was also an extremely good-looking man with dark, wavy, black hair and beard, piercing blue eyes, a high arched nose, high cheekbones, and full, sensuous lips. He reminded Bucky of someone from not so long ago.

“No. Dr. Mazarin,” one replied.

“Good.” Dr. Mazarin answered. He took a penlight from his coat pocket and examined Bucky’s eyes. They were somewhat dilated from what the doctor knew to be the effects of the Paste of Palaiologos. He next felt for Bucky’s pulse at his carotid artery. Finding it, he took an initial reading of the paste’s effects on Bucky’s heartrate. As he did so, Dr. Mazarin smiled at him.

Why does he seem so familiar to me? Those eyes – Bucky thought. And his cock –which had softened somewhat – once again reacted to the smile of one of his kidnappers.

“Bring him to the van.” Mazarin directed. He stepped back as two men came forward to take Bucky from the plane. As they did this, the doctor kept his eye on Bucky, who could not in turn look away from his gaze.

The back of the white van was fitted out like an ambulance. The men placed Bucky onto a gurney and buckled straps over him. Once Bucky was secured, Dr. Mazarin climbed into the back with Bucky and the men left, securing the doors behind them. After cleansing his hands with an antiseptic gel, Jules Mazarin picked up a stethoscope, adjusted the ear-tips, and unclasped the buttons of the union-suit – under the shibari-style binding Bucky – down to Bucky’s man tuft. Bucky’s Johnson by then stood rigid against his hard abs and pointed north up his treasure trail. Mazarin placed the chest-piece over various parts of Bucky’s chest and listened. The diaphragm of the instrument felt cold to Bucky. After a few moments, Mazarin removed the stethoscope and sat down on a small stool and began to type into a laptop computer. When he finished, he got up and stood over Bucky once more. Mazarin smiled down at him. Without saying anything, he drew the index finger of his right hand down Bucky’s torso from his Adam’s Apple to his belly button and then traced it along his hard cock, carefully teasing the slit of his mushroom head. Bucky flinched at the unwanted fondling.

“MMNNUU!” Bucky appealed to him.

“Do I remind you of someone, Mr. Johnson?” Mazarin asked wryly, still smiling down at him.

Bucky felt so dizzy and delusional. As this man manhandled him and gently stroked his cock, he tried to resist but he couldn’t help but think of Trey Shannon – the man who was the wide receiver on Bucky’s college team. He and Trey made such a great pair on the grid iron. Trey caught so many of Bucky’s passes to completion in the end zone that the press nicknamed them the “Dynamic Duo.” What the press and everyone else did not know is that Bucky and Trey became a duo off the field too. They fell in love with each other, but Trey had betrayed Bucky – all for a shot at the pros.

Oh God! He looks so much like Trey. What is going on? This damn tape gagging me has some hypnotic effect on me – Fight It, Bucky – Come on!

Bucky was so distracted by Mazarin’s rubbing him up and down that he barely noticed the van moving from the hangar. Escorted by the SUVs at the front and behind it, the van was soon on its way to its destination. Dr. Mazarin observed Bucky’s reactions to his ministrations.

“Don’t fight it, Mr. Johnson – give into it. Struggle as you might – the knots and straps will not give way.”

“MMNNUU! MMMNNUU! UUU CCHHAANNTTHH BBBEEE
HHHUUMMPPPHH!” He can’t be him!

“Give into it, Mr. Johnson. You see someone, don’t you? Let yourself go – let yourself go!” As he said this, Dr. Mazarin stopped rubbing Bucky’s member, and he turned away from him.

“DDHHRRAAAAYYY!” Trey! Bucky pleaded behind his tape-gag.

“One moment, Bucky.” Mazarin carefully wiped his hands with antiseptic gel once more, and then he put on tight-fitting, protective gloves, before opening a small refrigerator. He picked out a beaker-like container and some device – a shiny, long cylinder. At one end the cylinder extended out to a metallic covering shaped like an athletic protective cup. A clear, elastic tube was attached to the other end. Mazarin attached the tube to the container. He then opened the refrigerator once more and took out a silvery, metallic container. Mazarin unscrewed the lid of the container and extracted a glass beaker filled with a green, gel-like resin – pulsating as if it were a beating heart. He filled the shiny, long cylinder and its base with the substance and walked over to Bucky, who lay bound and writhing in delirium on the gurney. Mazarin looked down at him and tickled his erect cock once more.

“DDHHRRAAAAYYY!” Trey! Bucky beseeched.

“Yes, Bucky – I’m right here.” Mazarin called out. He grabbed hold of Buck’s stiff turkey neck and large dumplings, maneuvered them into the right position, then lowered the device with the green substance in it over Bucky’s crotch, and covered his pride and joy. He placed the attached beaker on the gurney by Bucky’s side. Some of the green glue spilled out over the tied-up rancher’s short ‘n curly manscape and his upper thighs, but the fallen matter creeped back up into the device before it created a vacuum seal over and around Bucky’s business.

“MMMPPPPHHH!! NNGHGHUUUPPHH!” Bucky felt a tightness growing around his cock and balls, which gave way to a sensation the likes of which he had never felt before. He sensed thousands of tiny legs prickling his prick and tickling his tackles. This soon gave way to those tiny legs suckling on his junk. Even though he was tied up in restrictive bonds and restrained on the gurney, Bucky began to writhe and wriggle about as desire grew in his loins. He could not help himself. Bucky tried to focus all his efforts on resistance – not giving in to the temptation – to the combined effects of whatever elixir his kidnappers had coated the tape which gagged him and of the arousing alure of the gel now molding and forging its hold on his manhood.

Mazarin noticed Bucky’s reaction to the stimulation of Dr. Richelieu’s special discoveries. He knew that Bucky needed external stimulation to drive him to the edge of desire. The handsome doctor began to graze, tweak, and rub his fingers around Bucky’s nipples and chest hair under the tights bonds that held Bucky immobile. Despite all his efforts, Bucky could do nothing to ward off Mazarin’s advances or his response.

“MMNNUU! DDDHHHRRRAAAYYY!!!! UHHH NNHHEEDDDGGGHH UUU!”

“Yes, Bucky. You need me.” Jules Mazarin answered, as he caressed and nipped Bucky’s torso, working his way down Bucky’s abs to his pelvis underneath the intricate web of black rope trapping the rancher. Mazarin could see Bucky’ pelvis slowly begin to gyrate and rise, his magnificently muscular hindquarters clenching tight underneath him. Mazarin knew that Bucky would not last much longer, but he might need the right incentive to bring him over the edge.

“Do you remember that game, Bucky – against Maine State? There were only seconds left. Maine State was up by 4 points. We were at Maine State’s 43-yard line. You took the shotgun snap – then scrambled to your left – do you remember Bucky?”

“DDHHYYUUGGHH! DDHHRRRAAYY – UUHH RRHHUUMMBBRR!” Bucky bucked upwards as he recalled the moment.

“You threw up a prayer – hoping the ball would find me in the end zone…”

“DDHHYYUUSSHH.” Bucky was breathing hard through his nostrils now. He was close to climaxing. Mazarin groped his thighs. He worked his way into Bucky’s union-suit and cupped one of Bucky’s arse cheeks. He gave Bucky’s buttocks a squeeze.

“Maine State’s secondary had me covered – you can see it can’t you, Bucky?”

“DDHHYYUUSSHH!!”

“Three defenders were on me. I jumped for the ball.” Mazarin’s glove-covered index finger petted Bucky’s butt crack.

“UUHHH – MMHHIII GGHHOODD!” Bucky moaned under the tape-gag.

“Those guys almost knocked that ball away – but I out-jumped them, didn’t I, Bucky?”

Bucky’s skin glistened in sweat. Mazarin could feel the heat of Bucky’s breath blowing from his nostrils. He was at the brink…

“We won. I scored the touchdown. You ran down to the end zone – jumped into my arms – wrapped your beautiful legs around me – I grabbed hold of your man cakes – ” Mazarin squeezed Bucky’s glute.

“DDHHYYUUSSHH!! DDHHYYUUSSHH!! DDHHYYUUSSHH!!” Bucky pelvis rose as high as his bonds and the straps of the gurney would allow. He started to cum.

Mazarin could see the jets of Bucky’s man juice shoot through the clear, elastic tubing into the waiting beaker. Bucky ejaculated copious amounts of semen – it was as if he were that 22-year-old quarterback once more brought to a climax by his wide receiver and lover Trey Shannon in their private celebration of that Hail Mary pass afterwards.

Mazarin stood aside the bound, gagged, drugged, and now spent cowboy stud on the tumbrel. He was very pleased with the effects of the green, jelly-like substance produced from plants that his mentor discovered on his travels in the rainforests of the unexplored Amazon. Dr. Richelieu had come upon an indigenous tribe there, who knew how to extract this elixir from black orchids. The tribe used the extract to torture warriors captured from their enemies. When they applied the extract to the genitalia of their tied-up prisoners, the warriors would grow erect and susceptible to suggestion until they ejaculated. They would then pass out – but they would gain no rest, since the elixir would make them hard one more – achingly so – until they succumbed to suggestion once more –

And as Dr. Richelieu had observed in the rainforests of the Amazon long ago, so his protégé Dr. Jules Mazarin noticed now with the abducted Bucky Johnson. After the last sprays of his ejaculate subsided, Bucky fell back exhausted onto the gurney. Mazarin stroked the side of Bucky’s sweat-coated face.

“You did well, Bucky.”

Bucky’s head lolled to its side, and Bucky stared up at Jules Mazarin in a fog of haze – seeing only his former lover Trey Shannon.

“DDHHHRRRAAAYY…” Bucky mumbled Trey’s name under the tape-gag before he closed his eyes and passed out.

Mazarin looked down at the cylinder and cup sheathing Bucky Johnson’s johnson and cojones resting against his pelvis and saw the metal tube rise once more –

A Hotel in Montréal, Québec: Late Sunday Afternoon

Simon and Hugh spent Sunday afternoon at the gym at the local university to which they had access. Whenever he was stressed out, working out always proved good medicine and long-term relief for Simon. He hoped it would have the same effects on Hugh, or at least take the man’s mind off his troubles. When they got to the gym, Simon and Hugh headed to the locker-room to change. Simon quickly stripped down and opened the small bag that the RCMP Tennis Squad had provided for each member as part of tournament’s swag. He took out a jockstrap, put his legs through the straps, then smoothed the straps over his hefty bum cheeks, before adjusting his sizable family jewels in the pouch. He next pulled on mid-thigh length, red mesh shorts and a UA sleeveless, compression shirt in navy blue, before donning black no-show athletic socks and Asics.

Simon did not notice Hugh steeling glances at him as he undressed and put on his gym gear. Hugh couldn’t believe what incredible shape Simon was in. And he still had trouble thinking Simon wanted to help him, after Simon found Hugh going through his belongings. Hugh – you’re a lucky lad. To think you were going to betray Simon and the Force – even if it was to get Danny back! And the man is helping you after all that – this kindhearted man – Jeez! That bobsledder is a fortunate bloke – having such a kindhearted soul in such a hunky body as a lover! Hugh thought to himself, as he changed into compression shorts with the same mid-thigh length, red mesh shorts as Simon, but with an RCMP tee. Once he was done lacing up his Adidas trainers, Hugh stood up and looked at Simon. Such beautiful, blue eyes, Hugh thought as he locked eyes with Simon.

“Let’s warm up with a light, 10-minute jog on the treadmill, stretch, then hit the weights.” Simon suggested with a smile.

Hugh followed Simon out of the locker-room. He couldn’t help but admire Simon’s broad shoulders, the vee-shape of his back as it tapered down to his slim waist and how the poly-mesh material of Simon’s shorts draped over his muscular hindquarters and folded into the crevice between his bum cheeks. Hugh felt his cock twitch under his compression shorts. There were two treadmills that faced the windows with views of the university campus. Simon and Hugh warmed up with an easy jog, and they then stretched before heading back to the weight-room.

Simon suggested that they go easy on loading the weight for their lower-body workouts – “Our bums don’t need to get bigger. We just need to keep them toned,” he explained and then added, “Besides, our big butts are ripping up our trousers already.” Hugh laughed with Simon at the joke. After an easy round of leg squats followed by leg lifts and leg curls, the pair moved on to do some serious damage with bench presses, inclines, flyes, and cable crossovers. Hugh was soon impressed with the amount of weight Simon could lift. Both men had worked up a sweat, and Simon encouraged Hugh to go harder than usual, promising that he would make sure Hugh could handle the weight as he spotted him.

And as Simon spotted him, Hugh had quite a view of sweat staining Simon’s sleeveless compression tee stretched tight over his manly and broad chest. But what really drew Hugh’s attention was Simon’s plentiful package right above him, as Hugh lay flat on the bench. Of course, Simon’s package dropped closer to his face, as Simon crouched to spot Hugh as the weight load grew heavier. Despite his concentration on completing each set, such close proximity to Simon had harder effects on Hugh. Hugh prayed that his compression shorts would keep his growing man lizard safe from view.

“That’s Hugh – Just one more rep – Easy – easy – easy, now – yes, you’ve got it.” Simon encouraged the Manitoba Mountie as he bench pressed one more rep.

Come On, Hugh! You can’t be thinking about what lies underneath that jockstrap, man. Hugh pondered, as he exerted his strength to lift the loaded barbell.

“Ugh!” Hugh was spent, when he racked the barbell with Simon’s help. He lay on the bench a moment, catching his breath with Simon standing over him. Finally, Simon offered Hugh a hand. Hugh grasped it, and Simon pulled Hugh to his feet and clasped his arm around Hugh’s shoulders.

“Come on, my friend. Once we put these weights back, let’s head back to the locker-room and change into our racers for a swim. Pumping some iron surely worked the kinks out of our system.” Simon declared.

Jeez! There are some kinks I’d yet like to work out with you, Simon. Hugh still couldn’t shake some thoughts from his mind. He helped Simon return the weights and then followed him back to the locker-room.

The two men began to strip out of their – by now – sweaty gear. Simon opened his locker and removed his bag, while Hugh did the same. Hugh opened his bag to retrieve his swim trunks.

“Damn it! I forgot my trunks.” Hugh said in disbelief.

“I’ve an extra pair with me, Hugh. Here – these tackle trunks should fit you, man.” Simon tossed Hugh a speedo-like racer. They were green with the name of Simon’s favorite rugby team – Connacht – emblazoned across the seat.

“Thanks, mate.” Hugh held the racer in his hand It’s pretty small – and Simon has worn it.
Simon had already stepped into his. “I’ve a new pair of racers – Noodle Bagz – these are called “El Cortez,” a southwestern design. What do you think, Hugh” He gave a little twirl, as he modeled them for Hugh.

“Looking good, mate.” Yup – looking really good, Simon! Hugh couldn’t believe that Simon looked so good in such a skimpy swimsuit.

Hugh put the borrowed speedo on. He soon discovered it was very tight-fitting on him, as he adjusted his cock and balls in its pouch and smoothed the lycra/poly material in the back, so it wouldn’t ride up his butt crack.

“And you look great too, Hugh,” Simon gave him an appreciative nod.

God – does he know what effect he’s having on me. Hugh—you’ve got to think of anything but Simon, or you’ll soon be throwing wood. And there’s no way to hide that in this racer – Old ladies – Old ladies – that’s it! Old ladies sipping tea!

Hugh followed Simon to the pool area, and they spent the next 45 minutes or so lap swimming. They swam in the same lane with Simon leading. They started out at an easy pace, but after the fourth lap, Simon increased the speed, and Hugh followed suit. Thereafter, after the fourth lap, Simon swam harder, pushing Hugh to his limit. Concentrating on keeping up with Simon’s speed, Hugh began to work through his other thoughts – those concerned with finding Danny, getting him back safe and sound, and bringing his kidnappers to justice. Hugh channeled all his negative thoughts – thanks to the effort he took to keep up with Simon – into a working plan and strengthened his resolve. By the end of the swim session, Hugh had greater awareness of what lay ahead in their mission, and he had greater determination that they would succeed.

And Hugh had Simon to thank for this. Now I understand why he wanted us to work out. It took my mind off my troubles – yes – but not by forgetting them. Rather by pushing me to my limits, Simon got me to focus on those troubles differently. Simon’s a bloody, clever bloke! Hugh watched Simon pull himself up and out of the pool, admiring the way the wet material of his Noodle Bagz clung to his butt muscles. He stood at the side of the pool, bent down and offered Hugh a hand. Hugh took it, and with Simon pulling, Hugh climbed out of the pool.

“They have a sauna in the men’s locker-room. Let’s grab some water bottles and take advantage of the dry heat to recover.” Simon proposed.

“Okay, mate.” Hugh followed him, and they grabbed some water bottles. The men headed to the locker-room.

Simon and Hugh were the only two in the sauna. Simon had grabbed some towels. They placed them on the bench and sat down, still clad in their speedos with Simon very close to Hugh.

“I hoped the workout and swim helped, Hugh.”

“I understand that you were trying to get me to focus differently, Simon. I have greater resolve, now – we’ll get Danny and the others back.” Hugh paused for a moment. He turned his face towards Simon, who had himself turned to face Hugh. “Thank you, Simon.”

Hugh leaned into Simon and kissed him on the lips. He felt Simon’s lips press against his own in response.

Late Sunday Afternoon Westmount, Montreal, Quebec: The Depths Below the Estate of Michael Palaiologos

Johnny Trudeau was alone in his thoughts. There was not much else he could do. He was hanging from the ceiling in some sort of leather-strapped cage, but not before he had been stripped naked, trimmed of his hair below his neck, slathered with some type of amatorial gel, bound hand and foot, and then thrust into a skin-tight, neoprene-like sack. What’s more Johnny’s kidnappers and those diabolical doctors had deafened him with black muck stuffed in his ears and blinded him with a skull cap over his eyes and upper face. But not before they had muffled him into silence with a bundled cloth tasting of the odor of that Quisling – Reginald Percy – whom Johnny now knew was actually Patrick Penrith – a sex-spiced gag held in Johnny’s mouth by layers of tape similarly man-sex scented! Johnny tried hard to fight the intoxicating effects of those gags and the gel smeared all over him to little avail. Of the senses left to him, Johnny smelled nothing but a heady mixture of his own sweat and man-juice along with that of his companion in the cell – bound, gagged, stuffed, and hung next to him. And he felt the man’s body brush against his, as they slowly rotated. Their physical contact, however, provided little, if any, comfort. Johnny’s had a massive hard-on, as did – from what Johnny could feel – his manacled mate. Each time their boners stroked each other as the men slowly pivoted in circles, desire and frustration in equal parts swelled in Johnny.

Yet, Johnny’s training as an Olympic-level, elite athlete gave him the tools to concentrate and fight -- as best he could – the drugs.

Ye Gods! To be kidnapped again – I can hardly believe it. I know for sure – though – I am bait to lure Simon into this trap. Simon – my love – how can I keep you from falling into the net of these abominable abductors? You saved me – but I need to save you now. How can I? They have me tied up, gagged, encased in a skintight haversack that makes my bobsleigh unitard seem loose-fitting – and strung up in some twisted trap off the floor…

What’s worse is this gel they slimed all over my body. It interacts with whatever they coated the tape with that gags me. It’s made me so horny – I’m about to bust a nut – I cannot believe that I’m still hard after what those doctors and that rat fink put me through in that laboratory. Jeez – when I think about what I’ve been through, since they grabbed me in Lake Placid and brought here –

Johnny – even though he was half-doped up from the narcotic effects of the Paste of Palaiologos – sensed that Patrick Penrith, whom Johnny thought to be Inspector Reginald Percy of the Metropolitan Police Mounted Branch in London, and his henchman must have driven back to Canada – Montreal maybe – judging how much time had passed since they had secured him in that secret compartment of the SUV until they released him from it. From the little he could see and apprehend, Johnny grasped that the abductors had driven into some underground garage. Bound as he was in an intricated web of knots wound around the taut muscles of his body, the kidnappers removed Johnny from the cargo hold and deposited him on a gurney. They then pushed the gurney to an elevator from whence they ascended one level. They led Johnny down a cold, concrete and steel corridor lighted overhead by long, fluorescent tubes hanging from the ceiling. Johnny saw men in fitted black uniforms stationed along the corridor. At the end of the corridor, Percy and his goons pushed the gurney through swinging double doors and entered a brightly lit laboratory.

They wheeled the gurney to the middle of the room – an open space surrounded by the paraphernalia common to scientific laboratories on one side and at least a dozen man-sized glass tubes set along the wall. Johnny’s mind was clouded, but he thought that he saw one of the tubes filled with a green, gel-like substance. Immersed inside was a naked man – bound and gagged – with all sorts of tubes attached to him. Johnny was sure the man had the look of pure terror on his face, but before he could try to focus more on the trapped man in that tube, a tall, thin man with very pale skin stepped forward to interrupt Johnny’s concentration
.
“Ah – Brother Penrith – you’ve brought us the bobsledder.” The man addressed Percy.

“Yes, Dr. Richelieu. We snared him,” Percy answered.

Snared? Brother Penrith? Who is this man? What’s going on?

The tall, thin man drew closer to the gurney and peered down at Johnny. He was dressed in a black turtlenecked shirt and black trousers underneath a white lab coat. He was about 65 years of age. His eyes were dark and wide with dark shadows under them. Set against the paleness of his skin, those shadows made this man appear very nefarious. He smiled at Johnny – his was not a warm smile of greeting – No! – it was a sinister, evil grin that met Johnny’s gaze. His features were hard and gaunt, and he wore his black hair slicked back and plastered to his head. He stroked his chin with long, spidery fingers, while he looked Johnny up and down.

“Welcome, Mr. Trudeau. I am Dr. Armand Richelieu. Now that you have arrived, we can begin the final preparations of my project. We need to prepare you. Once that is done, all will be ready for your boyfriend, Inspector Simon DuWright, to join you.”

Johnny looked at this man, barely comprehending what he heard. My God! They intend to take Simon, too. “My project…” What did he mean? Simon’s in danger –

Dr. Richelieu turned away from Johnny to a table nearby. A short time later, he came back carrying a hypodermic needle, a small vial, and antiseptic wipes.

As he prepared the needle for injection and swabbed an area of Johnny’s neck with alcohol, Dr. Richelieu spoke to the bound bobsledder. “Before DuWright is reunited in bondage with you, however Mr. Trudeau, an American cowboy will be your companion in captivity. We await his arrival at any time. Until then…” He injected the needle into Johnny’s neck, and the poor lad soon lost consciousness.

These last 24 hours have been like a living hell! When I came to, I was now in some type of shower room. I was not alone. Another man faced me. A short distance separated us. Hemust have been the American cowboy, and when we looked at each other, I saw nothing but empathy in his eyes. We were in a similar predicament. They had stripped us, and they had chained us in a spreadeagle fashion – suspended in the middle of the room. We were both gagged, and from the look of his I realized what muffled me. We were now gagged with some type of chomp with leather straps tightened behind our heads. I could feel a bite guard over my upper and lower teeth in my mouth. A red plug with a removable stopper attached in the middle filled the cowboy’s mouth. The plug was hollow in the middle. Mine must have been identical to his, which I found out later, when Dr. Richelieu took the plug out to attach a tube into which they fed me that liquid Spanish Fly! They then hosed us down, soaped us up, and washed us before trimming our body hair. I keep myself shaved for athletic performance, but the cowboy had a fine pelt of fur on his chest with a treasure trail leading to his cock and balls. And he had a full bush. They trimmed the hair in my armpits and then got to work on my short and curly man pubes and the hair on my balls. Next, they scraped the hair from my butt crack and taint. They did the same to the wrangler.

We were unchained, but never free from bonds. We were carried back to the lab, where we were each strapped onto cold, metal tables that we soon discovered could swivel to various positions – even allowing easy access to our backsides – all while we remained securely strapped down. That is when Dr. Richelieu – now assisted by another doctor – younger and -- I must admit – very attractive – but as equally mad. Dr. Mazarin had some strange hold over the cowboy. I could see confusion combining with craving in the cowboy’s eyes, whenever the man looked at him or manhandled him. I’m lucky I had Simon to keep me from falling completely under the spell of the narcotics they were undoubtedly giving us. If it wasn’t for Simon’s love for me and mine for him, I’d never withstand this!

They turned the tables upright, so that I faced the cowboy and he faced me. Dr. Richelieu introduced him as Bucky Johnson, who had turned down a professional career after an outstanding turn as a quarterback at his university. He wished to remain a rancher for the rest of his life, but his All-American virtue of standing up for the little guy had brought him to the Order of the Black Rope – Ye Gods! That odious order has its tentacles everywhere. Richelieu and his fellow doctor, Mazarin, then began to apply that green slime to us, explaining its origins and the effects it would soon have on us.

“As a young man, I and a fellow member of the Order of the Black Rope – an anthropologist –explored the Amazon to study indigenous tribes that had little contact with the outside world. We came upon one tribe – the Seqüestradores – deep in the jungles of the Amazon. The tribe was structured around a male warrior elite. At a young age, boys were separated from their families to learn to forage in the jungle themselves in order to mature into strong men who could defend their tribe against all enemies. From age 18 until they married women at 30, these young men created strong bonds amongst each other. They grew closer to each other with the usual physical activities of young men, such as wrestling and other sports designed to hone martial skills. But they also forged sexual unions with their fellow warriors. The stronger men as victors in wrestling matches claimed their losing opponents as sexual partners – ritually stripping each man of his loin cloth, then gagging him with it. The victor would then bind his conquest’s wrists behind his back, lash his legs together, and end by hoisting the man over his shoulder to carry him off to the hut that each warrior learns to build himself.”

“The Seqüestrador warriors learned to use a powerfully hypnotic drug on captured warriors from other tribes. It was a drug made from the secretions of the Black Orchid found near the tribe’s territory. The green resin from this flower also acted as an aphrodisiac. After tying their captive warriors up and gagging them with the loincloths of their captors, the Seqüestradores would apply the resin to the cock and balls of the captive. Soon, the man would grow hard and mesmerized by his subjugator. He would soon writhe in unfulfilled desire until his captor allowed him to ejaculate. But he would soon grow hard once more, only to be tormented yet again by frustrated longing. After enduring repeated agony again and again, the bound and gagged prisoner’s will would eventually break. He was then but putty in the hands of his tormenters.”

This doctor, his fellow physician, and their accomplices in abductions were all mad! Both I and Bucky Johnson were transfixed in disbelief at what he explained would happen to us.

“Leaving the Seqüestradores, my anthropologist companion and I returned home with the knowledge of the marvels of this wonderful flower. I soon perfected the resin, creating a truly entrancing and enticing opiate that in gel form could be spread over the entirety of a man’s body. Not only did it produce the most rigid of erections and enthrall one man to another – yes – it did that and more! I discovered this ecstasy-provoking elixir could also work a miracle long sought after but until now only an elusive dream.” Richelieu paused and made sure he held Johnny and Bucky in rapt attention. Both men had fear in their eyes. Richelieu continued. “This miraculous drug can preserve what men have long sought to preserve – their youth!”

As I now hang here – stripped, slathered in this clammy amber, tied up, sacked, and bundled into a leather mesh net – forcibly deafened, blindfolded, and gagged – I still cannot fathom what that evil man said. Bucky Johnson and I both realized what danger we were in. Richelieu and Mazarin finished applying that mucid mold on us, and we soon experienced its effects…Ye Gods though! What on earth did he mean by preserving a man’s youth – it’s impossible! What do our kidnappers intend to do? I need to hang on – I need to remain focused – to keep centered on Simon – I need to focus on our love – nothing and no man can come between us. And our love will see us through this nightmare!

To Be Continued…

[notreallyme06]

Is the Indian film star a new addition, or have I forgotten that he came up before? I am VERY excited to hear more about his predicament.

[Muscle-Flex]

Finished Chapters X-XII. First off – excellently entertaining as always. The scenario in Chapters X-XI was interesting. Is Polaiologos still the kingpen for the events that take place here? Are the two Swiss brothers ultimately working for him? Or are you trying to give us a sense of the global nature of the Brotherhood, meaning the events we see may be for other “masters”? From the allusions to the uses to be made of Gabie, Geordie, and Des, it sounded like they were destined for someone other than Polaiologos, but we don’t know yet what Polaiologos’s actual long-term plans are. Is he ultimately a middle-man of sorts, selling the men he captures on to others? Then what of Dr. Richelieu? I initially had the impression that Polaiologos had his own agenda and wanted all these men for his own nefariously erotic purposes. Maybe we need to know more about Polaiologos and his ultimate plans pretty soon in order to understand why all this is taking place.

You definitely achieved your aim to give us a more rounded sense of the characters in these two chapters and I liked the use of internal thoughts. I was gripped by their plight, but the emotional stress of the characters undermined the delectations of their entrapment a bit. That works fine; it just shifts the focus of the story. I felt bad for these 3 men more than anything else. I was wondering if there was a way to have both? Your use of internal thoughts might be a key. How do these men or any of the others feel about what is happening to them… physically? In other words, the Brotherhood excel not just in bondage for the sake of capturing men, but in bondage and restraint that has strong erotic/sexual overtures. Indeed, the two are linked for the members of the brotherhood and certainly for Polaiologos, but do his captives experience any physical/psychological stimulation from their corded predicaments? Do they learn something new about themselves? This would make for an interesting twist that could possibly go right back to Simon’s own experiences.

Chapter XII was flat out fun – your treatment of the developing relationship between Griff and Osian accomplished your goal of developing them as rounded characters and showcased another side of your writing (you can do romance!... and well!) The scenario you created for their disappearance was one of the best – funny and sexy at the same time. Like others, I really enjoyed Osian’s awareness of danger when it was too late to do anything about it. That sense of his frustration is part of the appeal of what is being done to he and Griff. Of course, using their own machismo or cockiness to sucker them into getting bound willingly and before an actual audience was great. I also like them in the box together below the stage. I wondered here also if the specifics of their entrapment were having any libidinal effects? For some reason, I kind of got the feeling these two might actually like the physical aspects of their predicament, even if being kidnapped is not something they like.

The side characters, whether the criminals or others such as Ilya and the Chicago cop, were fun additions/teasers!

It looks like we have some other athletes/hunks to be captured before we head to Argentina. That will no doubt be a huge scene. Somewhere along the way, maybe keep us abreast of what is going on back in Montreal with Polaiologos and Simon (and his new buddy Hugh).

Thanks again for writing such detailed and entertaining stories for us all!

[bondagefreak]

[mention]Muscle-Flex[/mention]
I'm so glad to see you posting on here, mate!
What a wonderful first post to get under your belt!

Welcome to the forum!

I'm sure [mention]KidnappedCowboy[/mention] will be thrilled to see your highly detailed review when he logs in.
With writers like him and readers like you on our side, the future of this forum is looking even brighter than usual!

[KidnappedCowboy]

Omigosh! You guys are terrific! I have to thank you for reading and reviewing this tale.

[mention]notreallyme06[/mention], the Indian actor and the Italian skier kidnapped alongside him have not made their appearances yet. At a friend's suggestion, I am bringing the tale slowly back to focus on Simon DuWright. The actor, skier, the French player, the father and son, and the Welsh and Irish rugby players will return in a sequel.

[mention]Muscle-Flex[/mention], where do I begin? First, thank you for such a detailed review. The Order is global. The aristocratic brothers are partners in this operation with Palaiologos. These men are all worldly and very cultured in contrast to such others who are part of the Brotherhood, like the Slobobians and the Russians. And Palaiologos has property elsewhere in the world to which some of the kidnapped men are destined. Dr. Richelieu and his assistant Dr. Mazarin are scientists/doctors who work for Palaiologos. At the end of the last chapter, I've hinted at what Palaiologos and Richelieu are up to.

As for writing romance...thank you. I am a hopeless romantic.

but do his captives experience any physical/psychological stimulation from their corded predicaments?

Like a good poker player, I'll put on my poker face to answer that.

And there are more players to kidnap -- that's why I love sequels. And that poor Chicago cop...that magic show awakened something in his wife!!

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention]...As always...thank you for your encouragement and support.

[DeeperThanRed]

You didn't disappoint, this update is amazingas usual. I love how Simon and Hugh got more focus this time and how the Brotherhood's plans seem to be developing.

[Muscle-Flex]

Finished Chapter XIII. I think the appropriate word is… wow! This chapter was so good! And not just because we got the return of Bucky, although his presence always makes everything better. After the Antipodean and East Asian detours, it was great to circle back to Montreal for updates on our hero, his pals, and, of course, the delightfully dastardly exploits of Polaiologos and his retinue of fiends. The developments with Simon and Hugh struck just the right note. The scenes at the gym were evocatively described and Hugh’s growing attraction to Simon felt natural… and welcome. Whatever happens with Simon and Johnny at the end, that road was looking predictable and a bit dry. Hugh reinvigorates the narrative and gives you a wider range of possibilities for your character stories.

Bucky: It was great to hear his voice. The last time we saw him, he didn’t say much, and that was a shame because Bucky talking in his distinct way is much of the fun (and sexiness) of his character. The descriptions of what happened once he was loaded onto that private plane and the scenes at the laboratory were entertaining and stimulating. And the trap he is in!!! Your imagination at its most creative. Damn that’s hot. The slow rotating, like tasty-looking meat on a spit, rubbing helplessly against the similarly bound Johnny… whew! I couldn’t get through those paragraphs, uh, “uninterrupted,” in one reading. Another reminder that Polaiologos is a man of exquisite taste… in studs and the traps he puts them into. And, of course, the window into what lays in store for the villain's collection of hunks was exciting to see. We needed those teasers to get a fuller sense of what is going on and who the villainous characters are. The backstory on the devilishly erogenous goo from an Amazonian black orchid was great. Edgar Burroughs would approve, I'm sure.

Oh yeah, the historic name game is fun… Richelieu, Mazarin… so appropriate for our 3 musketeers, Simon, Hugh, Johnny.

Thanks again for another riveting read!

[KidnappedCowboy]

You didn't disappoint, this update is amazingas usual.

Thank you, [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention]. You are always kind in your remarks.

And, [mention]Muscle-Flex[/mention], you've given me a lot to chew on.

I hope you both and all my others readers enjoy this next chapter!


Chapter XIV: Hijacked!

Late Sunday Afternoon: A Sauna in a University Gymnasium, Downtown Montreal
The kiss surprised Simon, but what surprised him more was that he kissed Hugh back. As he closed his eyes and felt Hugh’s lips on his own, Simon saw and thought only of Johnny Trudeau. It was a warm, sexy, and enjoyable kiss – until he opened his eyes and the moment passed. Simon put the palms of his hands on Hugh’s chest, and he gently pushed him away. Hugh looked away, so that Simon wouldn’t see his face flush red. A moment later, he forced himself to look at Simon.

“I’m sorry.” Hugh whispered and looked down.

“Don’t be. I returned the kiss.” Simon leaned back and rested his head against the wooden wall of the sauna. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, Simon put his right hand on Hugh’s left leg and gave his thigh a squeeze.

“You’re very desirable, Hugh, but I love another man.”

Simon paused. Hugh lifted his head and slowly looked at Simon.

“I shouldn’t have…” Hugh began –

Simon stopped him before he finished. “It’s been tough – these last few days – I noticed you looking at me back in the hotel room, again in the locker-room, and then when I spotted you lifting. I should have said something then. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe I’m nervous about this mission too – maybe I enjoyed your attention, and it gave me a distraction from that anxiety.

“I hope your bobsledder knows what he has in you.” Hugh murmured.

“We know what we have in each other.” Simon said firmly with a smile.

“I don’t know what happened. You’ve been so –” Hugh paused and looked Simon in the eye. He continued, “Simon – you are incredibly good-looking and sexy. But it’s more than that – your kindness and intelligence outweigh your physical beauty. You were willing to help me – to forgive me even – after you caught me going through your valise. You had every right to turn me in. And this afternoon – you were concerned about my welfare. I let myself get too –”

Simon interrupted him. “Don’t Hugh. You’ve been through a great deal. And – I have to admit that I enjoyed the kiss – But we need to go forward with our eyes on the mission. It was a kiss we shared. But it cannot be more than that – I’m so in love with Johnny Trudeau. I hope you understand that.”

After a moment without turning away from Simon, Hugh responded softly, “Yes, Simon. I do.”

“Okay, my friend. Let’s get out of here, shower, get back to the hotel, and join the tennis team for dinner. Then call it an early evening and relax back in the room – see what’s streaming.”

“What about the kidnappers?”

“There’s not much strategizing we can do until we hear from them again. Let’s hope they took the bait that we planted on the USB Drive. If the kidnappers – whoever’s behind this “Byzantine Imports” – whether it’s this Michael Palaiologos or not – think that we are looking at a Slobobian connection, they’ll let their guards down. We may be able to find out more about this Palaiologos tomorrow night. He’s hosting a reception for the tennis teams tomorrow night at his home. Perhaps we can do some snooping while we’re there. I’m supposed to meet with a Montreal Police Inspector tomorrow afternoon, who may have some information for us. So – until tomorrow we have to sit tight.”

“Okay, Simon.”

“Are you really okay, Hugh? Are we on the same page?”

“Yes. I cannot deny that I have feelings for you, Simon. I will have to put those aside, because I know you’re committed to Johnny. And we must commit ourselves to getting my brother back and whoever else these criminals have abducted.”


“Good. Let’s get outta here –”

With that Simon and Hugh left the sauna to shower, dress, and head back to their hotel.


Monday Afternoon: The Athena Limousine and Car Service in a Storefront Office Building, Downtown Montreal
Nikolas Papas arrived early Monday afternoon at the Athena Limousine and Car Service on Mount Royal Avenue. At 47, Nikolas could take pride in becoming a successful businessman in Montreal, after emigrating from Santorini in his native Greece 26 years ago. He had built several businesses up from scratch with the help of the Greek-Canadian woman he married and for whom he named several of the businesses – the Athena Diner, the Athena Travel Agency, and the Athena Car Service. Athena was gone now, after a valiant battle with cancer a few years ago. And Nikolas missed her terribly, but he took comfort in their two sons – 24-year-old Niko and 22-year-old Costas. Those young men were the apple of his eyes. Such handsome men, too – Nikolas thought they took after him with their thick, wavy black hair, dull green eyes, and olive complexions. But they were such kind-hearted, caring, yet intelligent young men – those traits they surely inherited from the mother, Nikolas thought. And now that they had both graduated from university, they worked full-time with him, overseeing the enterprises. Niko -- like his Dad – had a good head for business. Costas was a smart boy too, but he wanted to continue his education – to become a human rights lawyer. Costas had come out of the closet at 18 to his parents and brother. All of them loved and supported him – no matter what. Nikolas told his younger son that it did not matter what man he fell in love with – as long as that man was kind and gentle like his son. If he were a Greek man – Nikolas declared – that would be the cherry on the top!

Nikolas sat alone in the office of the Athena Car Service that afternoon. He had let his secretary and receptionist Maria Kapadopolis take the afternoon off. Nico and Costas were coming in to the office a few hours from then. There was only one job for them that day – but it was an important account. One of Nikolas’ most reliable clients was the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Montreal. The Force relied upon Nikolas and his Athena Car Service to chauffeur its men and women in service or important dignitaries to functions in and around the city. Nikolas Papas took great pride as an immigrant to Canada that his adopted country’s most elite law enforcement agency had chosen him and his business out of many similar ones throughout the city. Such was his pride that Nikolas allowed no employee but himself and now his sons to drive members of the Force and their guests.

Nikolas, Nico, and Costas were set to chauffeur the RCMP’s tennis team – squad and coaches – from their hotel downtown to a reception that evening at an estate in Westmount. The host of the reception was a very wealthy businessman, who was one of the main sponsors of the upcoming tennis tournament. Nico and Costas would be the drivers of two limousines that evening, and Nikolas intended to drive the third to make sure everything went smoothly. Nikolas also hoped that his exacting attention to professional standards might come to the notice of the wealthy host of the reception, resulting in a new client for the Athena Car Service.

Nikolas was going over accounts in his private office, when he heard the front doorbell buzz. He got up from his desk and went out to the front office to see who it was. As he approached the full glass entry door, Nikolas could see four men standing outside – one gentleman who appeared to be about his age accompanied by three younger, well-built men. They were dressed in tracksuits, and the younger men carried medium -sized duffel bags. After unlocking the door, Nikolas opened it to greet them.

“Good Afternoon, gentlemen. How may I help you?”

“Hello. We would like to acquire your Car Service.” The older gentleman answered in an Eastern European accent.

His answer sounded a little off to Nikolas, but judging from the man’s inflection, Nickolas believed the man may not have had a fluent grasp of English. So, Nikolas took his answer as a desire of the men to hire his business’ services. He stepped aside to let them in before shutting the door.

“By your accent, I think we may be from the same part of the world. Are you Greek?” Nikolas asked.

“No. We are from Slobobia.”

“Ah! That mountainous land of mystery – I am afraid I gave my administrative assistant – who would normally handle bookings – the afternoon off. If you could follow me back to my office, I could perhaps take care of what you gentleman require.”

“Yes. That would be perfect for our plans.”

Nikolas led them back to his office. Not suspecting anything was afoot, Nikolas did not notice one of the younger men shut and lock the door of Nikolas’s office behind him.

When Nikolas reached his desk, he turned around. One of the three younger men stood at the opposite side of his desk. The others stood at either side and slightly behind the older gentleman, who was now pointing a Glock at Nikolas. Nikolas slowly raised his hands.

“I don’t carry a lot of cash here.” Nikolas said quietly but firmly.

“We are not here to rob you. As I said to you outside, we are here to acquire your Car Service,” the man said and paused a moment before adding, “as well as you and your two sons.”

“What? Who are you? What do you mean acquiring me and my sons?” Nikolas asked. His breathing quickened, betraying his anxiety.

“You needn’t worry about the answers to those questions right now – if you would please remove your clothes down to your underwear.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nikolas responded.

“I assure you I am not,” the man raised the Glock higher. “You are wasting time – now please do it, or I will have my colleagues strip you themselves.”

Nikolas eyed the three other men and realized it would be futile to resist further. He took his jacket off, laid it atop his desk, and loosened his tie…

Two Hours Later
Nico and Costas went to the gym early Monday afternoon to get a workout in before they headed to the Car Service later in the day The Papas brothers had started to frequent the gym regularly, once they began high school. Nico took up football, and he was a good running back both in high school and at university. He stood at 6’2” tall and weighed 210 lb. of pure muscle. Costas took up hockey and became an outstanding winger on his high school and university teams. He was as tall as his brother, but weighed less at 183 lb., but like his older brother, his mass was solid muscle. Nico and Costas had very handsome, classically Greek features with beautifully green eyes. The brothers were very close, and they took delight in playfully teasing each other.

Nico drove them in his Jeep Wrangler from the gym to the car service. After parking in the lot behind the business, the two brothers walked around to the front door.

“Nico, you were really chatting up that chick at the gym. You gave her those puppy dog eyes, Big Bro – and she was practically melting like butter for you.”

“You’re just jealous of my charming ways, little bro! Besides – I noticed those two guys checking you out, while you hit your legs with squats. One guy couldn’t take his eyes off your butt. Ha ha!”

“Well, I do have a cute butt, Big Bro.” Costas elbowed his older brother, then gave him a slight bump with his bum.

“Ugh! Why do I encourage you, Costas?” Nico gave a good-natured push away from him.

“Because I’m you’re best wingman, Nico.” Costas said with a wink, putting his arm around his older brother.

“I love you too, baby bro.”

“And those guys at the gym can look, but – Nico – you know I only have eyes for my copper!”

“Have you introduced Felix to Papa yet, Costas?”

“Not yet, Nico. You know Pop – he loves me, but he wants me to bring home a nice Greek boy, not Felix Bergeron – A French-Canadian police inspector.”

“You underestimate Papa, baby bro – he’ll welcome any man who loves you. And I can tell Inspector Bergeron loves you.”

“Thanks, Nico. You’re the best big brother a guy could want.”

“I know – Ha! Ha!” Nico laughed heartily. The brothers had reached the front door of the Car Service. Nico unlocked the door, and he and Nico stepped into the reception area.

“Pop wants to put our best feet forward today – driving the tennis team from the Mounties and the Armed Forces to that reception out in Westmount. He’ll be coming with us.”

“Yes, Costas. Papa hopes to land a new client. That’s why he wanted us to wear our best suits for the job.”

“Where is Pop? He said he was going to give Maria the afternoon off.” Costas looked around the outer office.

“He’s probably in his own office in the back.”

Nico and Costas walked down the darkened hallway past the office they shared, the office kitchen, the storage room – all the doors to each closed – including the one to the garage where the limousines were kept. When they reached, their father’s office, Costas knocked.

“Pop?” Costas called out as he opened the door, before he and Nico entered. The room was dark – no lights were on and the curtains to the window overlooking the alley outside were closed. Nico reached along the wall, found the light switch, and turned it on.

“What the…?”

Nikolas Papas was seated at his desk. He was stripped down his underwear and black, knee-length socks, and was tied up and tape-gagged. A man wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and black tie stood directly behind him. He had one hand over the already tape-gagged mouth of Nikolas Papas. In his other hand, he held a Glock, which he now pointed at Nikolas’ sons. Nico and Costas stood absolutely still, their eyes darting from their bound and gagged father to the man behind him – to the gun pointed at them, and to each other. They heard the doors to their office and the kitchen open behind them and several footsteps quickly close in on them. Costas turned around and saw three men with revolvers pointed at them.

“Good Afternoon, Nico and Costas. We’ve been expecting you.” The man said.

“What’s going on?” Nico asked nervously.

“We are taking over your business. Now, please – step further into the office. Keep your hands where we can see them. Don’t try anything funny. I won’t hesitate to use this on your father.” The man said in perfect English – all traces of the Slobobian accent that he had spoken with before to Nikolas Papas gone.

Nico and Costas raised their hands to their sides and stepped closer to their father’s desk. Their father kept his eyes on them. They had never seen him look so concerned. Beads of sweat fell from his forehead. The other men came into the office, closed the door behind them, and stood behind Nico and Costas.

“Now, gentleman. If you would so kindly strip out of your suits.”

“What?” Costas responded.

“I said – STRIP!” The man bellowed.

Nico looked at his father, who nodded as best he could – indicating his desire for his sons to do what the man said.

“Just do it, bro.” Nico advised his brother, as he began to take his suit jacket off.

Costas did the same.

Twenty Minutes Later
Nico and Costas lay on the carpet in front of their father’s desk, as the intruders finished tying them up. Worried about what might happen to their father if they resisted, they had disrobed quickly down to their underwear and socks – revealing different styles in their choices. As an immigrant to Canada, Nikolas Papas scrimped and saved to build successful businesses, and so he opted for ordinary underwear – like Hanes briefs – and today he had put on his usual tighty-whiteys. In contrast to him, his sons liked a bit of flash against their flesh. Nico preferred boxer briefs – and red 2xist stretch boxer briefs covered his buns, bits and pieces today. Costas favored high end boxer briefs too, but today he had worn an old-school athletic supporter to showcase his bodacious buns. Like Nikolas Papas, his sons wore knee-length, Gold Toe black dress socks. When they finished taking their shoes, suits, shirts, and ties off, Nico and Costas were ordered to lay side by side on their stomachs, put their legs together, cross their ankles, and cross their wrists at the small of their backs. As the older man continued to hold his Glock on their father, his younger accomplices opened duffel bags and extracted lengths of black rope, black bandanas, a roll of black gaffer tape, and wasted no time in binding Nico and Costas starting at their ankles then working upward to right below their knees and around their upper thighs right below their bubble butts. The Papas brothers’ crossed wrists were bound so that neither man could get at the knots. The burglars then trussed the arms of the poor lads to their sides, by lacing the rope around their elbows and then under and over their torsos. As each knot was tightened, Nico and Costas – their faces turned to each other – grunted and groaned. Once they had finished roping the brothers, the intruders forced crumbled black bandanas into the brothers’ mouths, followed by another black bandana twirled lengthwise to cleave-gag them. Finally, one ruffian took the roll of black gaffer tape sealed Nico’s mouth and wound the tape around his head several times. He then did the same to Costas. As they looked at each other, Nico and Costas saw that in applying the duct-tape the man who gagged them cared little for appearance and more for effect. Each brothers’ cheeks were stretched askew from the adhesive pull of the tape.

“Fetch two chairs.” The older of the burgling quartet ordered. One of the others left Nikolas’ office and returned shortly with two straight back chairs, placing them in front of Nicholas’s desk facing him.

“Pick them up and put them in the chairs.”

The men did as they were told. The older man – the obvious leader of these raiders – drew his Glock down from Nikolas’s temple. He walked around the desk and checked out the knots that bound Nico and Costas. The brothers watched him warily. He turned to his accomplices.

“Boris, Danilo – very good.”

“Thank you, Lazar.”

“Josif…”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Take the bag with the cannisters – go out to the garages – you know what needs to be done.”

Nikolas, Nico and Costas watched the man called Josif crouch down to one of the duffel bags, open it, check its contents, then zipped it shut. He then left the office. The tied-up Papas men had seen what looked like two oxygen tanks inside the duffel. Nikolas and his sons exchanged puzzled glances. Their looks did not escape the notice of the Boss –Lazar.

“You need not worry about that,” he said to them before turning to his two other cohorts. “Boris, Danilo – it’s time to get dressed.”

Boris and Danilo took off their tracksuits and began to dress in the clothes that Nico and Costas had just discarded. With the Glock still in his hand, Lazar came over to Nico and Costas to take a closer look. He first walked around the bound men.

“Mm mm – very nice. I see the two of you have inherited your father’s good looks. Such fine specimens of Greek men.”

He stopped in front of Costas. Lazar traced the barrel of the gun around Costas’ broad chest and then pinched his right nipple with his free hand.

“UUGGHH! GGHHUUGGGHHH!” Costas flinched and rumbled through his gags.

“Very nice, indeed” Lazar then trailed the barrel of the gun down Costas’ mid-section following the path laid out by the young man’s hair. He smiled as the barrel reached below Costas’ navel where his hair fanned out at the outer edge of his man bush – teasing but not revealing its thick growth under the pouch of the jockstrap. Lazar brushed the barrel in that pubic hair above the strap and then let it graze along the pouch to map out the outline of Costas’s cock.

“I see you are circumcised. I’ve already discovered your father is not.”

“PPHHUUKK UUU!”

Even as stifled as Costas was, Lazar understood the curse. He pressed the barrel hard against Costas’ cock and then gave a sharp jab to his balls.

“UUGGHH!” Costas groaned in obvious pain.

“Let that be a lesson to you. Insolence will be punished.” Lazar turned his attention to Nico.

Punished? What does he intend it do with us? This is more than a robbery – taking our clothes. They’re replacing us? Why? Does this have to do with our job today? Remain calm, Costas! I can’t let them harm Pop or Nico. Surely, they’ll leave us tied up and gagged. But we’ve seen their faces – we know they’re names –

Lazar circled Nico, and as he did so Nico stared defiantly at him. Like he did with Costas, Lazar used the barrel of the gun to follow the hair on his manly chest down the taut muscles of his belly, but then he replaced the gun’s barrel with his own hand. Lazar pulled the strap of Niko’s red, 2xist stretch boxer briefs down to reveal the tufts of Nico’s man cabbage.

“DDLLLEEEVVVEEE UUHHMM AAHHHLLLUUNNN!” Nico’s father pleaded for Lazar to leave his son alone.

“You’re in no position to plead, but I must give you credit. You and your sons are very handsome and sexy men. Your sons are in peak condition. And for a man in his forties – even with the hint of softness around your middle – you have kept yourself buff. The three of you will do very nicely.”

Will do very nicely? What on earth – what do they intend to do with Pop, Nico, and me? Costas exchanged nervous glances with his father and brother – all three men sensing that these men may not simply leave them behind bound and gagged.

Lazar reached into Nico’s boxer briefs and groped his tool and nuts, stroking his war helmet with his thumb. Nico glared at him and tried to wriggle free, but Lazar squeezed down, causing Nico to wince in pain.

“UUGGHHH!”

“Yes – you will learn to enjoy a man manhandling your manhood, young man”

Boris and Danilo and finished dressing in Nico’s and Costas’ suits, and Josif soon returned from the garage. He brought back a dark suit and tie with him, like the ones of the Papas’ his cohorts now wore.

“The tanks are ready,” Josif informed Lazar, as he began to change clothes.

Lazar looked at his watch. They needed to leave in twenty minutes, so they would have enough time to arrive some minutes early at their destination.

“Josif – you will follow us in the limousine that you did not affix the tanks to. Once we have picked our quarry, you will drive the others to their destination.”

Lazar turned to Boris and Danilo.

“Alright, then. All that is left to pack the rest of our belongings.”

Nikolas, Nico, and Costas all felt a rush of relief – thinking that Lazar meant the duffel bags. But Lazar turned to face them. He pointed at Nikolas and Nico.

“Place the father in the trunk of the limo Danilo will drive. I will accompany you. And Boris, take the oldest son with you.” Then pointing to Costas, he ordered Josif -- “Take the younger, cockier one in the trunk of the limo you will drive. I suspect the father will give us little trouble. The sons are another matter. It is better to keep them separate, but I will not hesitate to punish the others, if one decides to resist.”

The Papas men were shocked and began to squirm in their bonds, but they could do nothing. Boris crouched down in front of Nikolas, and Danilo did the same before Nico. They soon hefted Nikolas and Nico over their shoulders, stood up, balanced their bound burdens, and carried them out of the office.

Lazar remained behind with Costas, as Josif finished changing into his suit. He came over to the struggling, tied-up, and gagged lad. Costas looked up and boldly stared down his kidnapper. Sweat dripped from his brow, and Costas breathed hard through his nostrils flared in anger. Lazar stroked Costas on the cheek.

“Yes – your father and brother should fetch a nice profit on the black market.” He grabbed Costas by the chin and forced him to look up. “You are a feistier than your brother – such spiritedness will demand a very high price. There are men who delight in breaking such mettle as you possess. But let me warn you now! Do not resist my men or me. If you do – or cause us any problems – we will give you to someone else to separate you from your father and brother. And you will fit in well with the collection that man is amassing. He will enjoy the challenge of breaking your spirit. And we will be rid of a troublesome young man, who will have little hope of seeing his family ever again. Do I make myself clear?” Lazar squeezed Costas’s chin tightly before dropping it abruptly.

Costas grunted. He plans to sell us –Pop, Nico, and me? And if I don’t behave – separate me from them and give me to some man’s collection? What the hell is going on? I’ve got to get loose!

Costas began to thrash about. They had tied him up very tightly, and there was no give in the knots. He tried to stand up, but each time he lifted himself from the chair, he fell back onto it, causing it to teeter backwards. Lazar stood there watching him and began to laugh.

“Ha ha ha!! Such character – You cannot get loose. We – the Order of the Black Rope – know how to affix our knots well.” Lazar grabbed Costas by the chin once more and pulled his head up. “Say goodbye to life as you knew it!”

Costas looked at him in horror. Lazar stared deeply back at him, before letting Costas’ chin drop.

Boris, Danilo soon returned, and Josif was now ready. Danilo scooped Costas up in a fireman’s carry with one hand on Costas’s prized buns to steady him across his shoulder. Danilo carried him to the garage, where the trunk of one of the limos stood open. Danilo dumped the bound and gagged Costas in the trunk. Before Costas could struggle to resist, Danilo quickly closed the trunk, and locked inside – Costas was enveloped now in darkness.

About The Same Time Monday Afternoon: A Hotel in Downtown Montreal
After practicing in the morning and in the early afternoon, the RCMP tennis team returned to the hotel to rest and prepare for the reception that evening. The members of the team and their coaches were set to meet at 5:30 p. m. sharp in the hotel garage below the lobby. Limousines would be waiting for them there to take them to the reception in Westmount.

Earlier that morning before training began, Simon had received a text message from a secure source. He recognized the message as a predetermined code to arrange a meeting with an operative from the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal (SPVM). Simon texted back and set the meeting for his hotel room at 4:30 p.m. When he received confirmation back, he let Hugh in on the details. Close to the time of the meeting, both Simon and Hugh were freshly showered, shaved, and dressed for the reception that evening. Each wore flat front, khaki colored dress trousers, white shirts, ties patterned in the RCMP’s tartan, and blue blazers with the RCMP Tennis Squad logo embroidered on the left breast pockets. Simon had no other choice but to wear his brown, military-style tactical boots. Hugh had the same style of footwear, and together the two men made a ruggedly handsome pair in their outfits.

At exactly 4:30, there was a sharp knock on their hotel room door. Simon looked through the peephole before opening it. Simon would know if the contact was legit, if the man gave the pre-determined greeting. Just in case he was not the contact, Hugh waited in the bathroom ready to assist Simon if fisticuffs became necessary. Through the peephole, he saw a blond-haired, tall-framed man with a muscular build in his mid-twenties. He was dressed casually in light, faded, blue jeans, flannel shirt, work boots, and a brown leather bomber jacket. Simon opened the door.

“Can I borrow a match?” The man asked in a deep, resonant voice.

“I use a lighter.” Simon responded.

“That’s better still.” The man retorted.

“Until they go wrong.” Simon responded and stood aside to let the man into the room. The man walked to the middle of the room. He turned around to face Simon.

“It’s okay, Hugh.” Simon called out, as he walked back from the door to greet his contact. Hugh stepped out of the bathroom.

“I’m Inspector Simon DuWright, Vancouver RCMP.” Simon extended his hand in greeting. The man grasped Simon’s hand on a firm greeting.

“Inspector Felix Bergeron of the Special Crimes Unit – SPVM.”

Hugh stepped forward and extended his hand to Inspector Bergeron.

“I’m Inspector Hugh Warwick – Winnipeg RCMP.”

“It’s a pleasure, Inspector.” Felix shook Hugh’s hand.

Simon gestured towards the table at the window. “Shall we sit down?”

The three men sat at the table. Felix looked at Simon and Hugh intently for a moment. Simon thought he was judging their trustworthiness. He also thought he saw in the gaze of Felix’s blue eyes the recognition that all three men were gay.

“Okay – then,” Felix slapped both hands on his blue jeans-clad thighs before leaning onto the table. “We’ve had some intelligence.”

“Go on –” Simon offered. He exchanged glances with Hugh.

“The head of my unit charged me with helping you in your investigation into the disappearance of Hank and Chase Leicester. I’ve been working my sources around the city. At first, no one had heard anything. Until last evening –” Felix paused and looked from Simon to Hugh. “I now believe the brothers’ disappearance is part of a larger operation – an international kidnapping ring – targeting young male athletes – for what purpose I don’t know. No ransom demands have been made and news of the kidnappings have been either deliberately hushed up or made to look like retirements.”

“That’s very interesting. We know that there have been at least two other men kidnapped.”

Felix cocked his head and looked at Simon and Hugh inquisitively.

“One of the abducted men is my younger brother – Danny. Danny was kidnapped to compel me to spy on Simon and obtain whatever information I could that he had.” Hugh confessed.

The expression on Felix’s face grew grave. He looked to Simon for further explanation.

“Hugh came clean to me – told me everything. He may have been wrong not to let the Force know what was going on – to inform them of his brother’s kidnapping – but he has cooperated and assisted me ever since. I trust him completely.” Simon turned and gave a small smile to Hugh.

Felix remained silent for a moment. He then looked at Simon. “I will have to trust you judgment,” he said.

“Based on evidence from the Leicester twins’ coach, we believe the Order of the Black Rope is responsible for kidnapping the brothers, Danny Warwick, and at least one other man.”

“One other?” Felix looked surprised.

“The kidnappers have been in contact with Hugh through text messages. And he met with two men yesterday at the Tim Hortons in the Palais des Congrès de Montréal.” Simon started to explain.

Hugh took over from him. “The men I met with showed me a video of my brother. They said it had been recorded only a few hours before we met. The video showed my brother bound and gagged in a cage. He was tied up back-to-back to another man, who was also bound and gagged.”

“Did you recognize the other man?” Felix asked.

“No. He was taller than my brother, very muscular, and extremely good-looking.” Hugh paused and looked at Felix. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that. I’m gay.”

“It would be rather hypocritical of me, if I held it against you for noticing a man’s handsomeness. I too am gay.” Felix assured Hugh.

“He was also a Black man. When I asked about him, the men told me to worry only about my brother’s continued well-being, but at least I got a good look at the other man who was at the mercy of these kidnappers alongside my brother.”

“Hhhmmm…” Felix thought for a moment. “The other man does not match the description of the man I believe is being held captive along with your brother and the tennis-playing twins.”

Simon and Hugh exchanged glances.

“What intelligence do you have to share with us?” Simon asked.

“Some time ago, American intelligence contacted the SPVM about the disappearance of a baseball player – Tommy Neville. He simply vanished one afternoon after training with his team on the way back to where he was staying. The explanation for his disappearance is that he gave up his sports career to find himself as a missionary. But that is not what American intelligence believes. They believe Tommy Neville was kidnapped and brought here to Canada. My superiors in the SPVM gave the investigation to my unit. We began our investigation. One of my sources here in Montreal contacted me late last night, saying that he had some information. I met with him earlier today. It concerned another athlete from Canada – a hockey player named Eddie Marbot. Like Neville, the world was led to believe that Marbot retired from his career to discover himself through traveling the world.”

“I read about both men in an article in the papers on my flight here from Vancouver,” Simon said. “Both men were at the height of their careers – to give it all up – and according to the articles – not confiding their decisions to a close friend or teammate – it appeared strange to me. Not coincidental.”

“Well, Marbot was kidnapped.”

“Are you sure?” Hugh asked.

“Yes. My informer’s contact is a well-placed source – from within the organization.”

“From within the Brotherhood of the Order of the Black Rope?” Simon asked in astonishment.

“Yes.” Felix affirmed.

“Do you know who he is?” Simon leaned forward.

“I don’t know. My informer did not know or would not reveal who he is.”

“Does anyone else know this?” Simon inquired.

“Just the three of us. I haven’t had time to write it up in a report. After this, I’m heading back to my station to do so.”

“Hugh and I – along with the other members of our tennis squad and the other squads to play in the tournament – are attending a reception tonight at the home of Michael Palaiologos whose company is a major sponsor of the tournament. I believe he is connected to the kidnappings.”

Felix shared his knowledge of “Byzantine Imports” and Michael Palaiologos with the other two men. “He is an extremely wealthy and well-connected man here in Montreal. His business appears legitimate – it’s international in scope – importing and exporting sports apparel and equipment around the world. There’s an entire fleet of trucks and planes for transportation at the company’s disposal. We don’t know much about Palaiologos’ background. His estate is very secluded and well-guarded. Palaiologos also owns several properties around the world.”

“ His estate and the other properties would make ideal locations to hold the kidnapped men and transport them around the world.” Simon observed.

“Yes, I agree, but we have no hard evidence to prove Palaiologos is connected to the kidnappings.” Felix turned to Hugh. “The men you met with yesterday – what were they like?”

“There were two men – both white, one 30, the other no more than 35. The younger was medium height, dak hair, dark eyes, muscular build. The other was taller – about your height – dark hair, dark eyes. He had a bulky build – a real bruiser, if you know what I mean.”

Felix nodded that he understood.

“They both had slight accents – hard to pinpoint – German maybe, or eastern European. I gave them a USB Drive.”

“And what was on it?”

Simon answered. “We doctored some documents to make it look as if we suspected the Slobobians were behind the kidnapping of the Leicester twins.”

“Good idea, but we cannot underestimate Michael Palaiologos. He is very intelligent. And to achieve the level of success he has had, there has to be a level of wiliness in him. He may not have fallen for your ruse.”
Simon was very impressed with Felix Bergeron. “No. We cannot underestimate him. That’s why Hugh and I plan to observe him very carefully this evening.”

“Be careful.” Felix warned them.

Simon looked to Hugh. “We will.” Simon assured Felix. “If you could do us a favor?”

“Of course.”

“When you return to your unit after this meeting, could you contact my superior officer, Superintendent John Cabot in Vancouver to brief him on what you have discovered, what Hugh and I have accomplished thus far, and our plans tonight.”

“I’ll see to it, as soon as I arrive back at my station.” Felix assured Simon.

“Thank you, Inspector Bergeron. As I’m undercover, I cannot compromise the mission by contacting Superintendent Cabot myself. I want him to have the intelligence we’ve gathered and our plan to see what we can find tonight at Palaiologos’ reception at his estate. If he’s holding the kidnapped men there, we’ll find out.”

“I’ll see to it your superintendent gets that intel, Inspector DuWright.” Simon and Felix exchanged iPhones to punch their details in. “Once you’re positive that Palaiologos has the missing men, alert me. I will bring Superintendent Cabot in on it, and then begin to muster the SPVM and the Mounted Police for a rescue operation.”

“Thank you, Inspector.” The three men stood. Hugh and Simon shook hands with Felix and walked with him to the door of their room.

“Again – Be careful! Palaiologos and his men – to have engineered the kidnapping of so many men – they’re ruthless. Remember that.”

“Knowing that you are the ready to bring the cavalry in, will give us great comfort.

Felix left the hotel room, walked to the bank of elevators, and pushed the Down button. An elevator came quickly. Felix stepped into it and hit the button for the Underground Garage below.

5:00 p.m.: The Underground Garage of a Hotel in Downtown Montreal
Felix stepped out of the elevator and walked to his car parked not too far away. Strange for that time of day, the garage was empty. Using the car’s remote, Felix unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. He sat there for a moment in thought.

Inspector DuWright has things in hand. And Warwick – even if he did not report his brother’s kidnapping and the blackmailing of him – he looks like a good partner for DuWright to have. We caught a lucky break with the intel my source had – someone from within Palaiologos’ organization – for whatever reason –wanted us to know Palaiologos’ is behind it. Once DuWright and Warwick have solid proof, we can pull the dragnet in and get those poor men back.

Felix was just about to start the ignition, when he looked up and over at the entrance to the underground garage.

What’s this?

Three dark-colored limousines were pulling into the garage. Felix looked at their license plates to see if they were from the company he knew.

Athena 1, Athena 2, Athena 3 –Ah, Costas!

Felix thought about the man he had been seeing for the past two months. They had met at the gym, and there was an instant physical attraction, but it was so much more –

I cannot believe that such a hot guy would fall for me. Costas is easy on the eyes, but he’s so easy on my heart. He so good around people – I don’t think I’ve seen a flash of anger from him. He’s passionate –that’s for sure –fiercely loyal to his brother Nico and devoted to his Dad. His Dad – Costas is introducing me to him later this week. “You may not be Greek,” Costas said to me, “but my Dad will love you.” All I want is to tell Mr. Papas how much I love his son – how much I want to share my life with him – how much I’ll always have his back. Jeez, I forgot that Costas had told me about this job. His family always drives the Mounties. I’ll surprise him – Wait a sec – who’s that getting out of the limos? None of those guys are Costas or his brother. What’s going on?

Felix took out his iPhone.

Shit! No signal.

Felix sat in his car and watched the four men who had emerged from the three limos after maneuvering them to face the entrance. Two of the men got into an elevator to ascend to the hotel, while two others ducked behind the elevators into what appeared to be a Mechanical Room. Felix got out of his car to take a closer look, careful to make sure he kept an eye on the elevators and the door to that Mechanical Room.

Felix crept towards the elevators, keeping close to the side of cars below eye level, until he reached the limos. There was nothing amiss inside them. As he stood by the tail end of the last limo, Felix checked to make sure is revolver was at the ready in his shoulder holster. He decided he was going to see what the two men who had gone into the Mechanical Room were up to. He was about to move, when –

“mmmppphhh mmmppphhh, mmpphh!”

It was a very feint sound, coming from the trunk of the car he crouched down beside. Felix almost missed hearing it at all.

“mmmpppphhh mmmppphhh mmpphh!”

There’s someone inside that trunk!

Felix worked his way around the car to the driver’s side. He looked over to see, if the coast was clear. There was no one in the garage. He tried the door. Felix had luck on his side. It was open. As quietly as he could, he opened the door and pushed the button to open the trunk. He heard the latch to the trunk pop. He quietly closed the door and sidled back to the trunk. Again, Felix made sure to see if the men were coming back. Seeing no one, Felix rose and extended the trunk’s lid fully open.

What the fuck!

“PPHHUUULLIISH HHUULLPPHH MMMUU!” Felix Help Me!

Felix couldn’t believe it. Costas was stripped to a jockstrap and intricately bound and tape-gagged. He floundered about in the trunk.

“Omigod, Costas! I’ll have you out of these ropes. Hold on, buddy!”

Felix bent his knees and slid his torso into the trunk to untie the knots that bound his boyfriend inside. Costas had turned on his side to allow Felix easy access to his tied-up wrists. Felix had not touched a knot, when he heard a click and felt the cold, hard metal of a revolver nudge the back of his head.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck –

“Put your hands on the floor of the trunk.” A voice said behind Felix. He heard the unmistakable sound of someone cocking another revolver. Out of the corner of his eye, Felix saw a man level that gun on him. He did, as he was told. Costas froze and looked at Felix with worry.


The man behind him patted Felix down. He relieved Felix of his service revolver. He also quickly found and took Felix’s police badge, wallet, and handcuffs.

“He’s a cop.” Felix heard him tell his companion.

“An interesting turn.” The companion noted.

Felix evened his breathing and looked at Costas.

Take it easy, buddy. I will get us out of this.

“What’s going on?” The other two men had rejoined their cohorts.

“A snooping detective – Inspector Felix Bergeron.”

“Well, well, well – curiosity captured the cop! We’ll just have to take him with us. Danilo – get the rope and out of the duffel.”

Merde! There’s nothing I can do now. For the safety of Costas, I cannot resist. Remember, Felix – you’re a police inspector. Think! The safety of any hostage comes first – especially if that hostage is my boyfriend!

One of the men pushed Felix’s head with the gun was still pressed against it to the bottom of the trunk.

“We can use his handcuffs on him.”

“What idiocy, Boris. Cops often keep an extra key for their cuffs hidden on them – and while I wouldn’t mind frisking our inquisitive Inspector further,” the man caressed Felix’s heavy-duty glutes under the faded denim of his jeans. “But we haven’t time. Tie him up quickly and gag him, before anyone else sees us.”

The men got to work. “Cross your wrists together behind your back,” Boris barked. Felix did so, and his wrists were quickly and tightly cross-lashed together. One of the other men grabbed hold of his hair, pulled his head back, and as Felix gasped, shoved a crumpled black cloth in his mouth. Felix heard the sound of ripping tape from a roll, and black duct-tape was quickly plastered across his lips, then looped around his head. The men next grabbed hold of the belt loops of his jeans and roughly hauled him into the trunk on top of Costas. Felix could feel his boyfriend’s hot breath on his cheeks, as Costas exhaled through his nostrils. Felix felt something else too –

Good God! How can I?

Felix’s prick was half hard, as his denim-covered crotch rubbed against Costas’s jock-covered manhood. He wasn’t the only one, however – Felix sensed Costas tremble and he tried to press into his boyfriend in a make-shift embrace of sorts. In those few moments too, he was aware of Costas’ rigid shaft dueling back against Felix’s growing erection. Costas buried his face into Felix’s shoulder.

We’ll get out of this, buddy!

The men roughly crossed Felix’s ankles together, fettered his booted feet, and then knotted rope around his knees. With surprising alacrity, the men bound Felix and Costas together from their chests to their arms and down to their feet. When then men fastened the rope around their waists, the binders noticed the hard-ons Felix and Costas each sported. They gave out a short chortle.

“They’re getting off on this, Lazar.”

Lazar gave a closer inspection of the tied-up men. It was obvious that they both had stimulated packages.

“Ha! They are. That gives me a brilliant idea. We’re risking enough. Josif – when you drop the troublesome Mountie and the other copper at the Palaiologos estate – give these two to Palaiologos’s men with the compliments of the Slobobians. If these two are popping boners now, Palaiologos can certainly use them in the rumored operation he’s planning. The father and the brother along with the tennis playing Mounties, their coaches, and those war heroes are enough booty for us. We mustn’t be too greedy.”

Felix listened to this exchange with growing alarm.

I’ve got to let DuWright and Warwick know. If they are the passengers in this car, Costas and I can make enough noise to warn them –

The men were about to close the trunk –

“Wait.” Lazar ordered. “We cannot risk them being heard. Get my valise, Danilo.”

Danilo walked away and hastily returned with a valise in hand. Lazar opened it and took out a smaller bag. He unzipped the bag and extracted two needles, a medium sized vial, rubbing alcohol and swabs. He gave the rubbing alcohol and swabs to Danilo, while he prepared the needles by filling them with equal amounts of the liquid from the vial.

“We’ll have to knock them out. Prepare them.”

Felix could do little to resist, as Danilo roughly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them partially down, exposing the top portion of Felix’s sinewy buttocks. He swabbed an area of Felix’s right glute. Danilo then swabbed Costas’s left bicep. Still, both men squirmed as best they could while tied up face to face.

Fuck! There’s nothing I can do!

“Should we put the father and other brother to sleep, too?” Danilo asked.

“That won’t be necessary, because the passengers of those cars, once they’re in – will have no way to exit the limos. Josif made sure of that. And once we are on our way, they will all pass out from a gaseous form of the liquid I am about to administer to this busybody deputy and the horny beefcake he’s bound to. The equally beefy brother and their still buff Daddy will be knocked out by the gas, as well. We need to make sure, however, that the meddlesome Mountie and his fellow Mountie do not suspect anything or hear anything from the trunk of the automobile, while Josif chauffeurs them to Westmount.”

Lazar injected Costas in his left arm. Felix felt his boyfriend tense, as the needle pricked his flesh. Costas then pressed his face against Felix’s before he succumbed to a drug-induced sleep.

“Such fine specimens of men you are.” Lazar said, as he prepared to render Felix comatose. “Palaiologos and his doctor will have such fun with you. Pleasant Dreams, Copper – We will not meet again!”

Felix felt the needle jab at his butt.

My God! What will happen to –

As forced slumber overcame him, the lid of the trunk shut on Felix and Costas bound together.

“Boris – are the elevators fixed?” Lazar asked.

“Yes, Lazar. Our operative in the hotel will make sure that the elevator the two Mounties – the ones Palaiologos wants – engage will experience a “malfunction,” delaying them at least 10 minutes. The other tennis players, their coaches, and the two Army heroes will arrive down here in the garage at 5:30.”

“Very good,” Lazar said and then continued, ”We will persuade them not to bother waiting for Simon DuWright and the other Mountie – I’ll tell them that the third limo will bring them to the reception. We’ll divide the group into the first two cars. When we are well on our way, they may realize that our destination is not Westmount. But by then – it will be too late. They will be sealed in the backseats of the limousines. We’ll then activate the gas – the passengers and the men inside each trunk will be knocked out for quite some time. When they awake, they’ll find themselves bound, gagged, and in preparation for a flight to Slobobia.”

“Meanwhile, Josif,” Lazar went on, “You will bring DuWright and his companion to the reception. Tell them their comrades went on ahead of them. Palaiologos will take matters in hand from there. But once they are away from the car, present the nosy Inspector Bergeron and the jock-strapped Costas to Palaiologos’ men. I have no doubt he will gladly accept my presents to him.”

It was close to 5:30. Danilo, Boris, and Josif took up positions by their limousines. Lazar waited by the bank of elevators. At precisely 5:30 the doors of the first and second elevators opened and the RCMP tennis team and their coaches except for Simon DuWright and Hugh Warwick got off. Accompanying them were two Army officers – resplendent in their dress uniforms. As the doors of those elevators closed, a small alarm sounded in the third elevator, as it stopped between the ninth and eighth floors in its descent from the hotel above.

To Be Continued…





























.

[DeeperThanRed]

I'm glad Simon and Hugh can settle things between them despite the obvious attraction.

They're going to need every help they get now that the handsome Felix is kidnapped along with his boyfriend. Speaking of Costas, he and his family have great taste in underwear and it's a real delight to read their kidnapping.

And the Brotherhood is one step ahead as always.

[Muscle-Flex]

Oh this was smooth! I really like what you did with this chapter. I feel like you really tightened the narrative for this volume (yes, I am thinking of this as Volume One of the “DuWright of the RCMP Adventures” series.) You gave Hugh a more defined position in the narrative, while creating an opening for him to have an important recurring role in the series if you want him to. (It’s good for Simon to have a reliable buddy within the RCMP that he can turn to for help down the road.) I like that events are starting to zero in on the Westmount estate. Simon and Hugh (and Reggie) may accomplish their goal of rescuing some, especially Johnny and Danny, but not necessarily all, of the captive athletes and assorted studs. There is the matter of what is being done with the captive men. We saw some of what is going on in the previous chapter. The plans of Polaiologos, Richelieu, Mazarin et al, have a life of their own beyond DuWright’s immediate knowledge and short-term concerns. You have really given yourself a great deep plotline with all that. Simon’s activities thus become the changing story on the surface of each volume, while this deeper narrative persists across volumes. Does that make sense? Volume One can be just the opening salvo in the series. So many possibilities! I am seeing Polaiologos as a master villain, who repeatedly foils/escapes Simon’s attempts to bring his empire to an end… although not without Simon having to get out of the traps and predicaments that Polaiologos devises for him! Yes, your loyal readers are looking forward to the scenes of DuWright’s own capture!

As always thanks for writing these stories. They are great fun!

[privateandrews]

I always want to write a huge explanation of why i love this story. But i will just have to keep saying Oh my Gosh love it . The take over of the family car hire guys was just magic. yet another cherry on the cake is the taking of the detective. I thank you for your time and effort in the telling of this story .

[kankuro10]

So many characters, chapters,... I love the story. It's very incredible and hot (also the characters). The narrative is great. Also, the Brotherhood's plans are interesting.

[KidnappedCowboy]

Thank you, [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention],[mention]privateandrews[/mention],[mention]kankuro10[/mention], and[mention]Muscle-Flex[/mention]! You have written such great reviews and have inspired me to write more. I've been busy with other writing for work, but I am near completion of another chapter, as well as finishing a Christmas story I began late last year. Please know that I am so grateful that you have taken the time to comment.

Comments and critiques are a huge encouragement to me and to all who write. Thank you!

[george_bound]

OK so how on earth did I miss the last two chapters!!
It was a very pleasant surprise to the end of the work week to indulge in not one but two of your chapters Sooo much packed into those chapters but the following is what really get me...

Poor Johnny and Bucky, their rubbery sack treatment and sensory dep, in Johnny's case, is absolutely sinister and the fact that they were brushing up against each other's dangling bodies causing the gel to torment them even more, yikes Please please please let me experience that, but I guess "be careful what you wish for"!

Then the hot Greek brothers being captured as collateral for the ruthless use of their business to nab the protagonist and his mate, very nice! And the icing on the cake is the überhot ending with Felix and Costas tied together in the trunk getting each other excited with a hint that they'll endure further mutual torment together once at the compound, yum

The moment of truth when Johnny and Simon are "reunited" (in restraints) in so close now I can taste it, but what devious dilemma will they, and the entire ensemble cast of captives, find themselves in and just how perillous will it be?

[KidnappedCowboy]

I hope all will enjoy the continuing saga. Thank you to all who have been kind enough to write comments. As always they are always welcome!

Chapter XV: Ambushed Receptions

Moments Before 5:30 p.m. that Monday: Inside An Elevator of a Hotel in Downtown Montréal, Québec

Simon and Hugh stepped inside the elevator on the twelfth-floor of their hotel to be downstairs in the hotel’s garage by 5:30 sharp. As they descended just past the ninth floor, the elevator gave a jolt and came to a stop. Simon and Hugh both grabbed hold of the sides of the car to steady themselves.

“Are you okay?” Simon asked Hugh.

“Fine. And you?”

“All right.” He replied, then after a moment, “Damn! We’re stuck.” Simon declared oblivious to the obvious.

“Shock me, Sherlock!” Hugh teased.

“Can it, Watson.” Quickly recovering his wit, Simon shot back, as he pressed the button to the Garage Level. Nothing happened.

“Try the Call Box.” Hugh suggested.

Simon shot Hugh a “What d’ya think I’m stupid?” look. He opened the Emergency Call Box, picked up the phone, and pushed the button for assistance.

“Yes, hello! We’re stuck in an elevator here.”

“Yes, sir. We’re aware of the situation. And we are working on it. On behalf of the hotel, my apologies for the inconvenience.” A hotel employee explained.

“Thank you.” He turned to Hugh. “They ‘re working on it.”

“I heard. Well – there’s not much we can do about it.” Hugh leaned against a wall.

“We may be late in meeting the others in the garage.”

“I’ll call the coach, Inspector Fraser Colman.” Hugh took out his cell and called him. He waited. “Damn, it won’t go through.”

Simon took out his iPhone and tried Coach Colman. He looked at Hugh. “Same problem.”

“Do you think this is a coincidence, Simon, or do you think something else may be going on?”

“I don’t know. Elevators – even in high-end hotels like this – do have mechanical failures. And mobile service in underground garages can get sketchy. But as we discussed with Felix Bergeron – we’re going up against ruthless people. These men have had no qualms about kidnapping other men. They’re using your brother Danny to blackmail you. I would not put it past them to engineer something like this.”

“For what purpose, though, Simon?”

“To delay us, of course.” Simon gave a pensive moue, staring at the buttons of the floors. He turned to Hugh. “Then again – it could be purely chance.”

“I am encouraged that Inspector Bergeron is with us. He’ll be on his way back to his office. Soon your superintendent will have a full report and know of our plans about Palaiologos.”

“Yes, I’m encouraged too, Hugh. Felix Bergeron has our backs.” Simon took out his iPhone and tried Coach Colman again. The call still would not go through. Simon next picked up the elevator phone to check on progress with the elevator.

“Hello – yes, we’ve been stuck here for nearly ten minutes, and we’re already late for an appointment.”

“Again, sir – on behalf of the hotel – we’re very sorry. Perhaps we can send word to someone to let them know of your predicament.”

“If you would, please –” Simon gave the man Coach Colman’s details. When he finished, Simon hung up the phone. What Simon did not know was that the hotel employee was in the employ of Michael Palaiologos. The tentacles of that odious Order of the Black Rope extended everywhere! The man relayed the message to Coach Colman through the head driver of the car service sent to ferry the RCMP Tennis Squad and the two Canadian Navy heroes to the reception. Lazar, posing as Nikolas Papas, had no trouble persuading Coach Colman that his “son,” Costas (Josif), would wait to drive Simon and Hugh to their destination. Lazar, Danilo, and Boris quickly ushered Coach Colman and his party into the first two limousines and left the garage en route to their own destination. After they departed the underground garage, Josif contacted the hotel employee, who, in turn, rang Simon back.

“The problem should be fixed now, sir. If you would push the button to the Garage Level, it should work.”

Simon did so. The elevator descended once more. Simon looked at Hugh and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Perhaps, this was only a fluke, but we need to be on our guard from this moment onwards. Follow my lead and do whatever I tell you to do this evening, Hugh.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The elevator reached the Garage Level. The doors opened, and Simon and Hugh walked out. They were the only ones in the garage, except for a man in a dark suit standing by the passenger door of a limousine. When Simon and Hugh looked around, he came towards them.

“Inspectors DuWright and Warwick, I’m Costas Papas from the Athena Car Service. The hotel notified us that the elevator you rode broke down. I’m sorry for your inconvenience. Your coach – in consultation with my father – decided to leave with the other members of your squad and the two naval officers ahead of you. And I would wait for you. My father, my brother Nico, and our other driver Adrian took the others. If you follow me, we can be on our way.”

“Costas” moved towards the limo, opened the back passenger side door, and stood there while Simon and Hugh got in. Once they were seated, “Costas” closed the door behind them, walked around the limo, got into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Soon, the limo made its way to the exit of the garage, where “Costas” turned right to make his way to the reception in Westmount to bring the two men to the reception, and unbeknownst to them two other passengers – both packaged, muffled, and stifled in the trunk.

The Night Before The Big Event: An Estate in Westmount, Montréal, Québec

On Sunday evening, Michael Palaiologos ordered Peter deVere to arrange to have all his guests transferred the following day before the reception that evening to the large cell adjacent to Dr. Richelieu’s Laboratory. They were to be bound, gagged, sacked, and suspended next to each other on Monday afternoon, after they had been exercised, fed, cleansed, and prepared that morning in readiness for transitioning to Phase Two of the Project. Peter knew that if he was going to act, he needed to do it quickly. After relaying his Master’s orders to his subordinates, Peter made his way to his suite of rooms. After picking up the now familiar collection of poems from his bedside table, he sat down in an easy chair next to the window with the view of the gardens of the Palaiologos Estate.

The copy of City of a Hundred Fires lay open on its spine in Peter’s lap, its well-worn pages now so familiar to Peter that he could recite the lines of so many of Richard Blanco’s poems by heart – because that is what those poems had done to Peter – they touched his heart – especially one, Hola. “I have little defense against all this paradox. I could easily finish drowning tonight in the throat of waves, let their foamy mouths seal me in a sepulcher of coral. Or I could fuse with the fine quartz descending your green eyes, become a small dune in your palm and drown instead in the hola of your greeting…” And Peter had done just that – defending himself against the paradox he found himself in – falling in love with the man the Order had charged him to kidnap. His defenses failed, and all that Peter wanted to do now is drown in his love for Eddie Marbot. He made his decision. Peter took the burner phone from the table beside him. It was identical to the ones each member of the Brotherhood used. He would have to discard it later, so it could not be traced back to him. Peter now keyed in a number from memory, and before long he was connected to a contact in Montreal.

“Yes, it is I. I’m ready to talk.”

Sometime later after finishing the phone call, Peter made his way down to the subterranean cellars of the estate where the prison cells were located. Peter first went to the Observation Room, where a guard attendant watched over a bank of monitors. Each monitor displayed a live feed into the cells of the kidnapped men. The guard attendant stood immediately to attention as Peter entered.

“Bonsoir, Brother deVere. How may I help you?”

“I am just checking all is in order, Brother.” Peter walked around to observe the monitors of each cell. He saw that the occupants of the cells were fastened securely – singly and in pairs. Peter could see them squirming and wriggling about in vain efforts to get free, but they were all too well bound to extricate themselves. And all were stoutly gagged. Peter noticed how the two, most recent editions to the Palaiologos collection – the cowboy and the Olympic bobsledder – were skin-tightly encased in sex-sacks – those neoprene-like and viselike pouches designed to highlight every contour and curve of a man’s body and to heighten his sensitivity to arousal. The two men were suspended from the ceiling, and slowly rotating against each other. Peter knew that the men were bound naked inside those seductive sex-sacks and coated with a devilish aphrodisiac of Dr. Richelieu’s concoction. That brew befuddled the men into a frenzied state of stimulation, but it would leave them with little, if any, hope of release until their captors decided otherwise. Those diabolical scientists – under Michael Palaiologos’ instructions – had further tortured the Olympic bobsledder by stuffing a gag coated with the musk of that sycophant Penrith in his mouth and sealing it in by wrapping several layers of black duct-tape around his mouth and head. Johnny Trudeau’s ears had also been plugged with a substance that cut off all sound to him. They had done this to boost his sense of taste, touch and smell. All Trudeau could taste was the pungent redolence of that infernal toady, which entranced him further. The robust gel all over his body, the tight grip of the bonds binding his limbs, and the neoprene-like texture of the skintight sex-sack – their cold embrace enveloped Johnny to dizzying heights . And the bobsledder’s nostrils were filled with the odors of his musk, sweat, and pent-up spunk. Seeing Johnny Trudeau like that on the monitor, Peter thought – I cannot let that happen to Eddie!

Peter de Vere continued to observe from the monitor as Johnny Trudeau slowly rotated in that cruel cocoon. Adding to the cruelty, the other occupant of the cell – the corralled cowboy – was similarly cocooned and strung up as close as possible to the abducted bobsledder, so their bodies would continuously caress in sync to one another. Their erect cocks were like dueling sabers as they grazed each other, when the men were face-to-face. And their bodaciously brawny buns kneaded each other when their backs touched, as each menacingly manacled man slowly swiveled ensnared in those sadistic sex-sacks, suspended from the ceiling. The incarcerated cowboy had not been deafened or blindfolded, so Peter could see the reactions of the man to his captivity. Bucky Johnson was attempting to resist the irresistible lust overcoming him from the libidinous liniment coating him –twisting and struggling while bound and gagged inside the body-hugging sex-sack. Peter could see the man’s musculature was equal to, if not superior to, the Olympic bobsledder. His strength must be enormous, Peter thought, but the ropes and the formfitting material of the sex-sack fought back against his efforts. Still, Peter observed the potency of the cowboy’s very erect manhood. Unlike Trudeau’s sizable boner which the sex-sack’s neoprene-like material plastered flat against the taut muscles of his belly, Johnson’s swollen Johnson had pushed back against the sex sack’s vulcanized rubber-like fabric. The chubby was almost at a 45°angle to the man’s body. Ye gods! Peter thought, This cowboy is stronger than the Olympic bobsledder. No wonder the Master wanted him for his collection – with his pedigree he’ll stud the men the Order requires for its plans. Peter could see the cowboy squeeze shut his glazed-over eyes in an attempt to shake free from the horny hallucinations affecting him. Peter knew Johnson’s efforts would prove futile. I cannot let that happen to Eddie.

Peter finally turned his attention to the monitor of the cell that imprisoned Eddie Marbot. He carefully studied the streaming feed. The video camera was right above the entrance inside the cell, and it was directly trained on the standing cage in the middle of the room. Peter could see Eddie Marbot twist and fidget ever so slightly against the bonds that not only tied him up – but also kept him pinned to the bars and sides of the upright, barred enclosure. It was such a narrow confinement that Eddie’s well-developed muscles bulged against the iron bars and pressed out from the small spaces between each rod. As strong as he was, however, Eddie could not budge loose from that close confinement, nor could he upend the cage – bolted as it was to the stone-cold floor of his cell.

Peter left the Observation Room and walked down the corridor to where the kidnapped men were squirreled away. He dismissed the guard attendants outside Eddie Marbot’s cell. After punching in the code, the steel-grid door slid open. Peter walked in. He observed Eddie confined within the iron-barred, narrow, standing cage bolted to the floor in the middle of the chamber. He was still clad only in the hockey protective-cupped jockstrap. Peter closely took in the inextricable bindings from Eddie’s ankles to his shoulders. Peter couldn’t help but admire the skill of the Order’s men who tied him up so effectively tight. The rope harness hitching his arms and wrists to his torso not only hampered his movement – its intricately webbed design was testament to the virtuosity of his binders. Eddie’s dungeon, like all the jail-like cells of the other kidnapped men, was kept warm, and sweat trickled down his chest and upper arms clenched closely under the roped yoke. Peter took in the smell of the mixture of sweat, musk, and anger emanating from the caged hockey player.

Peter understood that Eddie had given his attendants trouble during his exercise session that day, and they had used the kiss of “The Collar” to quiet him. Eddie would still not break, and it was only when the attendants threatened and then zapped Tommy Neville with “The Collar” around his own neck that Eddie ceased his resistance. The device remained locked around Eddie’s neck, as a warning that if he caused trouble – even bound, gagged, and enclosed as he was – Tommy Neville would receive punishment. That evening, Dr. Richelieu ordered the attendants not to gag Eddie with the tape coated with the Paste of Palaiologos nor to stuff his mouth with musk-scented kerchiefs. The nefarious scientist wanted him in full possession of his faculties in preparation for Phase Two of the Program.

A leather head-harness with a muzzle now gagged Eddie. Eddie breathed hard through his nose, and his eyes stared right at Peter with a mixture of uncertainty, rage, and betrayal, as his kidnapper walked toward the cage. Tethered as he was to the bars of the cage from his head to his feet, Eddie could not see when Peter began to walk to behind the ironclad crate. Peter stopped behind him. Eddie’s heart was racing. Eddie calmed his breath to control his emotions, and he began to concentrate on Peter’s breathing. Then, he felt Peter’s touch.

Peter’s hand stayed on Eddie’s right shoulder. Eddie focused every fiber of his being on not flinching. Peter’s hand felt warm. Eddie soon became aware, that Peter was slowly tracing his fingers down Eddie’s back – feeling his touch on his bare skin and over the black rope that bound him so securely. Peter caressed Eddie’s butt cheeks through the bars and past the ropes. Eddie could hold still no longer – this time he flinched slightly at the stroke of Peter’s fingers.

Peter whispered “Hola” softly to him He was barely audible. Eddie froze. He sensed Peter draw closer to him, and he felt his kidnapper’s hot breath on the back of his neck through the bars of the cage imprisoning him. Despite his near nakedness, Eddie started to sweat. Peter pressed his face against the cage near Eddie’s right ear. He breathed in. “Your musk is intoxicating to me, Eddie.” Peter murmured.

Eddie felt his rage returning. What the hell do you want, Pete? You bastard!! You put me here – how could you even – No! No! I’m not going to let you in – what balls you have –

“Hola! Do you remember, Eddie,” Peter continued to murmur in his ear, “after that first night? You awoke in my arms, and you told me how you escaped from dealing with your fear of being gay through books – and poetry especially. And then you read that poem to me, as you nestled naked between my legs and you pressed back against my own nakedness. Oh, Eddie! I’m so sorry.”

Sorry? What’s going on? Am I imagining this? Those drugs must still be having an effect on me – how can he say that? I hate him so much for tricking me into believing he cared – for doing this to me. I’ve been caged like an animal – no – worse than an animal. Just leave me alone – you bastard!

“You have every right to hate me. I want to make it right to you.” Peter spoke softly right behind Eddie.

What is he doing to me? Eddie tried to turn to Peter, but his head was so secured to the bars of the cage that he could only express his rage and frustration through hard breaths exhaled through his nostrils.

Peter felt that rage and gently caressed Eddie’s head through the bars. Peter was concentrating so much on what he was confessing to Eddie that he did not noticed Patrick Penrith standing at the entrance to the cell.

“Well – isn’t this a pretty sight to behold.” Penrith avowed, as he entered the cell.

“What are you doing here, Penrith?”

“Question is – what are you whispering into this hockey player’s ears?” Penrith stepped further into the cell. “It looked very intimate – as if you were a lover speaking tenderly to his beloved.

What’s going on? Eddie wondered, watching the other man warily. Peter had his hand through the bars of the standing cage and rested it on Eddie’s left shoulder. Eddie felt Peter squeeze his shoulder – ever so slightly – Is that a protective gesture? Eddie was so confused.

“Perhaps, I was just hinting at what awaits him – What are you doing down here, Penrith?” Peter could hardly mask the disdain in which he held this man. He squeezed Eddie gently – almost imperceptibly – once more before letting go of him and walking around to the front of the cage – and stood almost face to face with Penrith in a battle of wills.

“Just checking the merchandise, Brother deVere. What’s it to you?”

“The merchandise – as you call them – are all safely tied up and penned for the night.” Peter kept staring coldly at Penrith. Penrith met his stare, before turning his head to give Eddie Marbot the once over – like a cattleman appraising his stock.

“You certainly bagged a prize buck, Brother deVere.” Penrith reached into the cage and caressed the hard cup of Eddie’s jockstrap. Eddie’s eyes narrowed, as he glowered at Penrith. Still petting Eddie’s crotch, Penrith turned halfway to speak to Peter.

“But for whom did you snare this prize buck? For the Order and our Master? Or for you, Brother deVere? You’ve been very attentive to him – and tonight you’re here whispering like a lover to him – you’re up to something.”

“You’re a fool, Penrith. My devotion is entirely to our Grand Prior and to our Order.” Peter sneered at Penrith and watched him closely as he fondled Eddie’s protective cup. “Perhaps it is you, Penrith, who’s showing an inordinate amount of attention to – what did you call them? Ah, yes – the merchandise.”

“I despise these men, Brother deVere. These athletes and law enforcement officers consider themselves such elite men – gods even. I was just as good as they are – except I didn’t get to have a professional career like they did. I wasn’t deemed good enough to make the Olympics. And I was judged to be not the “right type of man” for a law enforcement agency.”

As he said this, Penrith had pushed Eddie’s protective cup to the side, exposing his cock and balls, which he now openly fondled. Peter looked momentarily at Eddie, but he was careful not to betray any emotion in his gaze. Eddie breathed harder through his nose, but as his body was entirely secured to the bars of the narrow cage, he could not shake Penrith’s fingers from his manhood. Peter could tell, however, that Eddie was shooting daggers at Penrith.

“So, Penrith – revenge is your motivation?”

“Yes,” he paused a moment before continuing. “It is. My family has served the Palaiologos family and the Order for generations – for centuries even – but I once had a promising career as an Olympic level rower. I won so many races at university, but I had a rival. He had slightly better times than mine – so, at first, I worked harder. He – Ollie Stokes, a mere working-class lad from Leeds – still managed to edge me out. Our master often came to my races, and he noticed the rivalry between me and Ollie Stokes. After Stokes won the position on the Olympic team and I did not, Master Palaiologos suggested that I should eliminate Stokes as my introduction to the Order. I took to the task with relish. Stokes was a true innocent…”

As he related this to Peter deVere, Patrick Penrith maintained a firm grasp on Eddie Marbot’s bait and tackle, handling it with ever-increasing pressure. Peter could see Eddie wince in pain, which caused Peter to get angrier by the minute. Peter kept balling his hands into fists, but he kept them at his sides – keeping rapt attention to Penrith’s tale – and concerned that he might betray his true feelings.

“Such a naïve lad, he was! He was a good-looking fellow with such remarkable athletic abilities, intelligence, and understated charm. Stokes could have had the entire university at his feet, if he had played his cards right. But he was such an honest, trustworthy, and altruistic fool. Stokes could not resist helping others. So, I simply told him I needed help on my technique one weekend at the end of term, when our college was quiet. He came to my rooms early one morning. It was a very warm day already. I’ll never forget how he was dressed – trainers, white socks, sweatpants, and a sleeveless tee. His muscles glistened with a light sweat and had begun to stain his vest. The sweatpants showed Stokes to be very well-endowed, and the material curved nicely over and around his bubble butt.”

“He thought we were headed to the gym. But I told him that I first wanted to show him some techniques I had learned with Krav Maga – the Israeli martial arts. I had cleared a space in my sitting room, and I had him remove his trainers and demonstrated a few easy moves to him. After that, I had him face me. I twirled around, bringing my leg up and through the air where my right foot connected with his jaw. Stokes was out like a light. I wasted no time hogtying him. I took one of his socks off, balled it up, then shoved it into his mouth. I already had several bandanas at the ready to hold that sock in place and to muffle him more, before he came to. When I was finished, I placed a call to a number Michael Palaiologos had given me and waited. I sat down on a chair to watch him, as he slowly regained consciousness. The shock and pain of the kick that knocked him out stunned his response, but he slowly began to realize he was tied up and started to struggle. Stokes wasn’t going to get loose. From a very young age, I had been taught to tie knots very tightly. He looked around, saw me, and began to grunt – wondering why he was in such a predicament. I stood up from the chair, crouched down on my haunches and pushed him over to his side. His tee shirt had ridden up, revealing the very taut muscles of his belly and a fine treasure trail leading to his nether regions. And those regions were so beautifully encased in the fold of his sweatpants.”

As he continued his tale, Penrith continually stroked Eddie Marbot. Penrith looked down at Eddie’s penis, but Penrith’s ministrations had failed to achieve what he wanted from the trussed up and caged man. Eddie’s cock had not grown aroused. Penrith grew frustrated. Hence, he increased his pressure on Eddie. Peter was beginning to seethe at Penrith’s callous cruelty, and he was having a hard time controlling himself, as Penrith manhandled his bound, gagged, and caged hockey player. Penrith either failed to notice Peter’s growing anger, or he simply ignored it. He turned once more to the story of his first kidnapping.

“I explained to Stokes that he was a rival to me, and so I needed to eliminate him. That seemed to scare him. I got up from crouching beside him, and I began to fondle his cock and balls with my foot. Stokes squirmed and flinched, but he couldn’t get away from me. Through his gagged lips, he tried to persuade me to let him go. His pleas for mercy only aroused me more.”

“You’re a cruel bastard, Penrith.” Peter interjected.

“Perhaps so, Brother deVere. “But aren’t we all? Doesn’t the Brotherhood demand that of all of us? Or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten, Penrith. Some of us, however, are crueler than others. Finish what you have to say and go.”

“Yes, I may be crueler than others, but it has served me well. As for Stokes, soon there was a knock on my door. Three men came in – I had never seen them before. They took Ollie Stokes away. There was little fuss made over his disappearance – the Brotherhood took care of that. Later, Master Palaiologos filled me in on his disposal. Our Master exported him to Texas, where an extremely wealthy oilman paid very handsomely for him. Sometimes – when I travel to Texas to replenish our stock, I pay a call on my old rival. He’s still in very good shape. The oilman has a large enough spread to maintain facilities for rowing. Of course – Stokes remains bound and gagged while he strokes his oars, and has his own oar stroked by the oilman.”

“I couldn’t do what you do, Penrith”

“And what is that, Brother deVere?’

“Gloat and preen as you do.”

What’s going on here? Pete obviously dislikes – no, hates – this guy – what’s his name? Penrith – yeah – Penrith. What’s Pete doing? I don’t know…Penrith has got my prick in his hand – trying to get me hard. I won’t give the bastard the satisfaction. This place is full of them. Pete’s a goddamn bastard, too…NO! Try as I might – I can’t hate him! This is not the real Pete – the man who held me so tightly in his arms. I know it isn’t! When he came in here before and whispered “Hola,” I began to wonder what was he up to – was Pete taunting me? He was a sadistic bastard – but No – he wasn’t. Cold – yes. I know there’s more to him. As I remained imprisoned in this cage, all I could think of was a way to escape – but it was useless. How could I overpower them, even if I got out of these ropes and out of this cage? It was useless. So – I turned to thoughts of revenge. Revenge on Pete and that monster of a master of his!! I am so fucking confused – revenge is not in me. And there is something about Pete – I see it in his eyes – JEZZZZUUSS FUUUCCKK! This bastard gripping my cock –

Penrith took so much pleasure in seeing the pain he caused Eddie Marbot. Eddie’s stoicism goaded Penrith into applying more pressure on Eddie’s cock and balls.

“Well, Brother deVere – that’s your weakness – and it may prove to be your undoing in the Brotherhood.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Peter sneered at Penrith in answer.

“I do enjoy gloating over the men I’ve kidnapped – they are all such a confident lot – so assured in their athletic abilities – thinking that they are gods on the playing field – and off it too – many of them so good-looking that they have a selection of the cream of the crop in every choice they’re given…”

“You’re jealous, Penrith.”

“Jealous? Huh! I am better than they are, Brother deVere. Look at them. Taken down from the heights of glory – abducted from the lives they took for granted, whisked away, tied up so tightly they isn’t a chance of escape – reduced to silence by gags that we coat at times with aphrodisiacal musk and hallucinatory drugs. And then caged like this medero – yes, a medero might be the best way to describe him – just look at well hung he is. But his iguana does not wish to rise to the occasion –”

Penrith squeezed Eddie’s cock in a tight grip, and Eddie visibly winced and growled in pain underneath the gag. Peter drew his hands behind his back, so that Penrith could not see him balling them into fists, as he grew angrier by the moment as Penrith continued his pounding on Eddie’s tool.

“It will be rising soon enough – once our Master, Dr. Richelieu, and his associate Dr. Mazarin begin the next phase of their project. They just await the arrival of the final acquisitions tomorrow night – one of whom I will take great pleasure in seeing reunited in bound submission alongside his boyfriend. Simon DuWright – I spent time undercover spying on the intrepid investigator in preparation for his abduction and that of his Olympian boyfriend – I look forward to my reunion with him. Already, his bobsledding beau hangs precipitously in prurient peril in one of our smutty sex-sacks, rotating around and around next to the similarly sex-sacked American rancher – a dirty dyad if you will. Yet, both men remain unaware of an even more erotic ending awaiting them and the man the brawny bobsledder loves!”

“Careful, Penrith, our Master wishes his guests to remain ignorant to their destiny.” Peter deVere warned.

“What does it matter now, deVere?” Penrith shot back. And he gripped Eddie’s tool and gave it a hard pull and twist.

Eddie could bear it no more. He visibly winced and grimaced in pain.

“UUUGGGHHH OOOMMMPPPHHH!” He groaned beneath the gag.

Before Penrith knew what was happening, Peter grabbed Penrith’s hand and yanked it away from Eddie’s cock and balls. He then grabbed Penrith by the lapels of the short jacket he wore, dragged him to the side of the cell out of the camera’s eye, and slammed him against the cement-lined, cinder blocked wall. Penrith wheezed in pain, as he got the wind knocked out of him. Peter jabbed his left forearm into Penrith’s neck below his chin, pinned him against the wall with his right arm and body, and got into his personal space, practically nose to nose. Each man could feel the hot breath of other on his cheeks, as they eyeballed one another.

“Don’t ever lay a hand on him again, Penrith. Or I’ll see that you are thrown into a pit so deep you will never escape. I am sick of your antics, Penrith. You order the rest of the brothers around as if you were better than they. You are not. You are a braggart, who takes sadistic pleasure in lording your dominance over our Master’s guests. You are a cold-blooded bully”

Peter did not let up on the pressure of his arm on Penrith’s throat for a few moments more. He finally stepped back and released him. Penrith bent over with his hands on his knees, coughing and gasping for air. When he caught his breath, he stood up and straightened his clothes. He shot a withering look at Eddie and then to Peter.

“Screw you, deVere! I don’t know exactly what is going on between you and this hockey player, but I have my suspicions. It is you who should watch your step. Your loyalty to the Order and our Master is wavering. It will be my greatest pleasure to expose you as the turncoat you are.”
“Get out of here, Penrith.”
Penrith moved towards the steel-grid door of the cell. He stopped right before exiting and turned to face Peter once more. Pointing a finger at the cruelly bound, tightly muzzled, and caged Eddie, Penrith delivered one last parting shot.

“I’m going to enjoy seeing you in the same position as your lover, deVere. Our Master will be very interested in learning how you’ve grown so fond of him.”

“Don’t make threats you won’t carry through, Penrith.”

Penrith left quickly. Peter stood staring out the cell door with his back to Eddie for several moments. As he stood there, an idea came to Peter. I know now how I’ll dispose of that burner phone, when the occasion arises.

With his cock and balls still exposed and aching dully, there was nothing that Eddie could do but mull over what he had just unwillingly and silently witnessed.

That bastard was about to rip my dick and nuts off! Pete saved me – Wait – How can he be the guy who saves me – He’s the guy who put me here?!?! What the fuck is going on?!?!? I’m so bloody confused! What’s Pete up to? Does he regret what he did? He’s been repeating poetry to me – that one poem that I love so much. Oh! God! Please! Let it be so – May he turn out to be the guy who saves me!

Peter turned around and walked back to the cage in the middle of the cell. He held his head down. He stuck his hand through the iron bars of that narrow, standing cage, and he took Eddie’s cock and balls into his right hand. Peter then started to rub them gently and to massage the pain away with his thumb and fingers. He looked up and saw Eddie staring at him with pleading eyes.

Pete, Please – I beg you – get me out of this hellhole! Eddie tried to will his thoughts to the man who had kidnapped him, but who had also stolen his heart.

Looking back down, Peter continued gently to knead Eddie’s bait and tackle. “I’m sorry he hurt you,” Peter murmured. He once again looked up and met Eddie’s gaze. For a moment both men held each other’s gaze. Then, Peter mouthed the following in silence, “I’m sorry that I did this to you.” Peter dared not voice that out loud or say anything more – silently or otherwise – lest he be overheard. And it was best that Eddie know as little as possible what Peter had done, and what was he planning to do. Eddie understood, and he blinked twice in reply.

Peter felt Eddie’s prick harden in his hand. Not wanting to arouse Eddie any further, Peter slipped his cock and balls back into the protective cup of his hockey jockstrap – with some difficulty. Peter couldn’t help himself – a knowing smile spread across his face. When he had finished, Peter tenderly rapped the cup twice with his knuckles. He then looked again into his love’s eyes.

“Or I could fuse with the fine quartz descending in your green eyes, become a small dune in your palm and drown instead in the hola of your greeting.” Peter whispered softly to Eddie. He rapped on Eddie’s protective cup through the cage twice more, then Peter turned and walked out of the cell.

Eddie stared helplessly after Peter, as he left the cell. Since the hour Peter had bound, gagged, sedated, and kidnapped him to this abyss, Eddie had teetered over the edge of fear and despair. Now, he clung onto those few lines of poetry as a lifeline. And he thought over his feelings for the guy whom he knew as Pete. An hour later when the guard attendants came to uncage and sedate him before putting him in a padded container for the night, they discovered Eddie sported a raging hard-on.

6:00 pm, Monday Evening: The Estate of Michael Palaiologos, Westmount, Montréal, Québec

Simon DuWright and Hugh Warwick could not believe the size of Michael Palaiologos’ estate, as the limousine passed through the gates of the entrance and wound its way up the drive dissecting gardens and arboreta just beginning to emerge from winter.

“It’s a vast estate.” Hugh noted.

“Perfect for operations the size of Byzantine Exports and within easy access to the airport and other arteries in and out of the city.” Simon remarked – careful to remain vague about what he suspected about those operations in earshot of the chauffeur of their limousine.

As the car approached nearer to Michael Palaiologos’ mansion, the men saw how grand the home was. The house stood ablaze with light to illuminate the Château Style of its architecture. Young, muscular men in tight-fitted tuxedo trousers and equally form-fitted white shirts sporting bowties and cummerbunds stood ready to open the car doors of the late arrivals and direct the guests to the interior of the palatial home. Simon and Hugh were the last to arrive.

“We’re the last to arrive.” Simon declared with his knack for stating the obvious.

“So sorry about that, gentlemen, but the delay caused by you getting stuck in the elevator at the hotel put back the time of our arrival here.” “Costas” said in apology.

“It couldn’t be helped.” Simon replied, but thought to himself, Or could it have been?

“Looks like a swanky affair.” Hugh observed, seeing the handsome men in stylish clothes and beautiful women in chic cocktail dresses milling about the verandah at the front of the mansion. Their car was at the entrance, and an attendant opened the door for Simon and Hugh, while “Costas” walked around to the back passenger door. Simon got out first. Hugh followed him.

Simon turned to “Costas.” “We’ll find our own way back later. Thank you very much.”

“Costas” bid them farewell and stood for a moment watching Simon and Hugh walk up the stairs of the entrance to the mansion and go inside to the reception. “Costas” then walked over to a manservant, who appeared in charge of the others. Not knowing for certain if the manservant was a member of the Order, “Costas” decided to couch his remarks in subtlety and gestures.

“My compliments to you and your men. Each of you work in tandem with the others to direct the cars and guests. You’re a tightly knit group – almost as if you were members of a Brotherhood to which you pledged your bounden duty.” “Costas” said, as he pulled on the sleeves of his suit jacket and shirt to reveal the small tattoo on the inside of his left wrist – the paleness of his skin bringing out the design of the crossed and bound wrists in black ink.

The manservant observed “Costas” closely for a moment. He then pulled up the sleeve of his tuxedo shirt to reveal the same body art on his left wrist.

“Good Evening, Brother.” He greeted “Costas” and added, “How may I be of service to you and to the Order to which we both pledge our lives?”

“I am Josif Pejović. My superior, Lazar Radonjić, in the name of our Master Ivan Whiplashtski wishes to present two gifts for your Master’s collection with the compliments of the Slobobian Branch of the Brotherhood.”

“And where are these gifts now, Brother Pejović?”

“Well packed in the trunk of the limousine here. Please accept them as a token of our gratitude for your Master’s gifts to us. Six RCMP inspectors and two naval heroes will be most welcome guests of ours in Slobobia. And we have made two additional acquisitions – a father and son. The father’s other son is one of our gifts to your Master.”

“And the other gift?”

“A rather nosy, Montreal cop.”

“That could be trouble for my Master.”

“It is trouble worth risking. We suspect he may have some connection to the man he accompanies. As we packed them away, each man grew aroused. My Master believes that they would make worthy additions to the rumored project your Branch of the Brotherhood is undertaking.”

The manservant mulled it over. He took out his cellphone and called his superior. They spoke for a few minutes. When he finished the call, the manservant directed Josif where to go.

“My superior, Brother Penrith, will be there ready to receive your Master’s gifts.” The manservant told Josif, and he returned once more to directing his underlings.

Josif then got back into the driver’s seat and made his way from the entranceway. The other cars and limousines had descended the drive either to leave or to go to the caretaker’s lodge to await the time to bring their charges home. Josif, however, following the manservant’s instructions, turned to proceed to the rear of the mansion where a driveway led him down a steep hill to a service entrance of sorts set deep below the mansion. There, Patrick Penrith – whom Michael Palaiologos had ordered to remain out of sight lest Simon DuWright see him – had gathered a team and awaited Josif’s arrival.

When Josif reached the destination to which the manservant directed him, he saw five men expecting him at the foot of a ramp leading into a well-lighted tunnel. The men stood beside an electric utility vehicle. Josif drove up beside them, shut the engine of the limousine off, and got out to greet the men and present the gifts to them.

Patrick Penrith walked up to receive Josif.

“I am Patrick Penrith, the deputy adjutant to my Master, Michael Palaiologos. Welcome to his estate.”

“Greetings, Brother Penrith. I am Josif Pejović. My superior, Lazar Radonjić, in the name of our Master Ivan Whiplashtski presents these gifts to Michael Palaiologos.” Josif popped the trunk of the limousine and lifted the hood to reveal Felix Bergeron and Costas Papas, who were still sedated.

Penrith looked at the two men. They were both tape-gagged and held each other in an enforced embrace of intricately woven tendons.

Josif presented the men to Penrith. “This is Costas Papas. He is the younger son of the owner of the car service over which we executed a hostile takeover.”

“My compliments, Brother Pejović, on your ropework – it’s exquisite in its simplicity. Why is he wearing only a jockstrap?” Penrith inquired.

“Thank you. Brother Penrith, my colleagues and I, as your Master may have already informed you, assumed the identities of Papas and his sons, to shanghai the members of the RCMP tennis squad and the Canadian naval officers, as well as to separate Simon DuWright and Hugh Warwick from the tennis squad and delay their arrival here tonight. I wear Costas Papas’ suit of clothes.”

Penrith appraised Josif closely. “It fits you well.”

“Thank you, Brother.”

“And his companion?”

Josif handed a leather pouch containing Felix’s wallet, iPhone, and police identification to Penrith, as he answered the question.

“He’s a cop. We found him snooping around the garage of the hotel, after we arrived to set our trap. When we came upon him, he had discovered young Papas here. We do not why he was in the hotel’s garage. We suspect that he knows Papas – if their reaction to our binding them in this embrace is any indication. Each man sprouted wood, as we tied them up together. Your Master should find they might make worthy supplements to his project we’ve heard rumors about. Perhaps the iPhone can provide clues as to why he was in the hotel garage in the first place.”

Penrith examined the contents of the pouch. He took out the police identification. “Hhhmm…Inspector Felix Bergeron.” He turned to Josif. “On behalf of my Master Michael Palaiologos, we accept this very generous gift from the Slobobian Branch of the Brotherhood.” He ordered the assembled team to take Costas and Felix from the trunk and deposit them onto the bed of the utility vehicle. The four men came over to the car. With two men on either side of the car, they easily scooped Felix and Costas up, carried them to the back of the utility vehicle, and secured them to the flatbed carrier at the rear.

Once that was done, Josif closed the trunk and turned to Penrith.

“It is always a pleasure to do business with Byzantine Bonds, Brother Penrith. Good-bye.”

They shook hands. Josif got back into the limo and departed.

As Penrith watched the limo drive away, he took out Felix’s iPhone. It had no passcode, so Penrith could see the calls Felix had recently made and received. This should provide a clue, Inspector Bergeron, as to why you poked your nose around this evening, he thought. Penrith turned to his men.

“Take them to Dr. Richelieu’s lab. I’ll inform our Master about them, after the reception.”

The electric utility vehicle drove up the ramp and into the tunnel. Penrith followed close behind.

Meanwhile At The Reception Above…

Simon and Hugh went from the entrance hall to a large reception room beyond with great picture windows and French Doors leading to a terrace overlooking the gardens at the back of the estate. It was a very well-attended affair. Although it was early spring, warm weather had come early, and guests had ventured outside. There was a string quartet playing in a corner of the room. More muscular young men in form-fitted tuxedo trousers and white shirts, sporting cummerbunds and bowties wandered about the room offering hors d’oeuvres, champagne, and sparkling water from trays to the guests. Bars with more potent potables were strategically situated about the room, and tables laden with heartier, yet still light, fare tempted guests from the sides. Simon and Hugh each took glasses of sparkling water. They looked about the room to locate Coach Colman and the other members of the RCMP tennis squad but could not see them. They figured they might find their mates out on the terrace, so Simon and Hugh took their drinks and walked out there.

Hugh recognized some of Canada’s leading sports, entertainment, media, and political figures among the crowd. Once outside, the pair walked over to the edge of the verandah with its sweeping views. Hugh nudged Simon and nodded over to a small group gathered around a tall man in his late twenties. He was a very good looking fellow with long brown hair and a beard. His somewhat protruding ears – rather than marring his appearance – only added to his physical attraction. The man was clearly charismatic. The men and women about him hung onto his every word.

“That’s Price Archer. He’s the phenomenal outfielder that Philadelphia recently acquired for quite a sum of money. I cannot remember the exact amount. Do you, Simon?” Hugh spoke in astonishment.

“Over $300 million. That is a binding contract, unless someone snatches him away from the City of Brotherly Love.” A voice with a vague trace of an Eastern European accent answered before Simon could.

Simon and Hugh turned to see that a very distinguished looking, middle-aged man had joined them. He was slightly taller than average in height with an olive-hued complexion, dark eyes, and a slightly aquiline nose. His hair was jet black and thick, and he sported a Van Dyck beard. He was accompanied by another, younger man. He stood over 6’ tall in height with dark brown hair, blue-green eyes, and a strong jaw-line. He had a muscular, imposing body.

“How do you do, gentlemen? Welcome to my home. I am your host tonight, Michael Palaiologos.” He offered his hand to Simon first.

“I do very well, thank you.” Simon responded and shook his host’s hand in greeting. “I am Simon DuWright of the RCMP, Vancouver Division.”

Palaiologos offered his hand to Hugh. Taking it, Hugh introduced himself.

“How do you do? And I am Hugh Warwick. RCMP, Winnipeg Division.”

“Inspectors DuWright and Warwick, I take it – by your jackets – you’re members of the Force’s tennis squad, and you are not hear to investigate Canadian-wide crimes.”

“Yes, we are. That is – we’re on the Force’s tennis squad. And thank you, for your sponsorship of the tournament. You have a beautiful estate. It’s very large and rustic, so close to downtown.” Simon answered.

“Thank you. I prefer to keep close to the operations of my corporation.”

Simon looked directly at his host before very dryly saying, “Yes. Byzantine Imports – You must move a great deal of merchandise.”

Michael Palaiologos paused and observed Simon very closely.

Simon stood his ground and did not bat an eye. He knew – Palaiologos was sizing him up – and he intended to give as good as he got.

“Inspector DuWright – I understand you’re quite competitive and an elusive quarry. Just when your opponents have you cornered, you escape their snares.”

Simon chose his response very carefully. “There are times when an opponent has the advantage – has scored over me with a dead net cord, for instance – but I always ace my matches.”

“Well, perhaps as of yet, your opponents have been unable to get you down the line. One of your last opponents was a Slobobian, wasn’t he? He may not have had the rank of a top seed. Once you’re faced with a far more formidable foe, Inspector DuWright – he might put a topspin on you and ace the tie.”

Simon remained expressionless. He knew full well that this conversation was not about his tennis game, but he would keep up the pretense, if Palaiologos wanted to lob volleys back and forth with him.

“And your partner here,” Palaiologos turned his attention from Simon to Hugh, “Inspector Warwick – I understand you’re unseeded as yet? Perhaps, your time here in Montreal will give you a special ranking. That is, of course, you don’t get tied up to the net sticks.”

“I won’t be handicapped so easily.” Hugh responded.

Simon was proud Hugh could stand up to the man. He had been concerned that Hugh’s anxiety over Danny might get the better of him. So far Hugh, like Simon, had maintained his professional demeanor – and kept his eye on the mission.

But Michael Palaiologos was intent on rattling them.

“Have you followed the career of Price Archer, Inspector? Quite a prodigy – Philadelphia was lucky to acquire him. He’s here in Montreal, where we hope to acquire him.”

Hugh looked quixotically at Palaiologos, while Simon remained impassive.

Seeing Hugh’s puzzled expression, Palaiologos explained. “As a spokesmodel for our products” He let out a small laugh. “Did you think I would snatch him away as part of a kidnapping plot, Inspector?”

Hugh was momentarily flustered but he quickly composed himself.

“Of course not, sir.”

Palaiologos smiled salaciously at the two men. Then, he turned to Peter de Vere.

“Forgive me, Inspectors, where are my manners? May I introduce you to my aide de camp, Peter de Vere.”

Peter gave a slight nod of his head first to Simon, then to Hugh. “Gentleman.”

“If there is anything you desire tonight, Peter will see to it.”

“Thank you. We should be fine.” Simon said, then added, “We should find the other members of our team. Have you seen them?”

“No, I haven’t yet met them. Perhaps they’re elsewhere in one of the rooms inside, Inspector DuWright. Peter – have you seen the other members of the RCMP tennis squad?”

“No, Mr. Palaiologos. I have not.” Peter answered.

“Well, I’m sure you will find them, Inspectors. If you will excuse me, I must greet my other guests. I hope you will enjoy this evening.”

Michael Palaiologos, accompanied by Peter de Vere, moved on to acknowledge other guests at the reception.

“Well, that was interesting.” Hugh observed.

“It certainly was,” Simon agreed. “Michael Palaiologos is very sure of himself. But men who are so cocksure of themselves usually slip up.” Simon looked around at the mansion and around the grounds. “He is holding the men here. It’s a large enough estate. And it sits atop a hill, which means there could be more than one level below the cellar of the home. We should look for our squad though first.”

“Maybe we should split up?” Hugh wondered.

“No.” Simon disagreed. “It may be too dangerous to do so. Palaiologos is onto us. I’m sure of it. We can’t risk one of us falling into their clutches. Palaiologos probably would not risk doing anything risky with the number of people here, but we cannot forget he’s ruthless. We are going to do some reconnaissance – see if we can find a way below the mansion. Come on, let’s explore the rooms inside and find the others. If we cannot locate them, we’ll come back out here to strategize.”

He and Hugh walked from the terrace to back inside the mansion. People milled about the reception rooms. Yet, there was no sign of the members of the RCMP tennis squad or of the naval officers, who accompanied them. Simon found it more than curious, but he did not yet wish to share his worries with Hugh. He had seen how Palaiologos had rattled Hugh earlier, and Simon needed Hugh to remain focused. He suggested that they grab a bite to eat.

“There are so many people here tonight, Hugh, that it’s possible we’re just missing them.” Simon assured his colleague.

Simon and Hugh walked over to one of the side tables where food had been laid out. There was an assortment of delicacies to choose from – roasted lamb, salmon, mini-crab cakes, tandoori chicken, roasted asparagus spears, and string beans with roasted almonds. The men decided to load up on protein, because they wanted to have plenty of energy for the night ahead. After selecting the delectables, Simon and Hugh took their plates and stood against a wall to eat and to observe. They saw Michael Palaiologos mingle among his guests with his aide Peter de Vere always close by him. At one point, Simon noticed de Vere looking right back at him, but, otherwise, Palaiologos and he remained attentive to the other guests. Simon also took note of the men around the room, whom he deduced worked for Palaiologos, but were not catering or serving the guests. They appeared to be guards – although they did not appear to be armed. They were dressed tight black trousers and fitted, black turtlenecked jerseys under short, black jackets. They kept the guests from wandering from the reception rooms and terraces of the party.

After finishing eating, Simon and Hugh returned to the terrace. Price Archer was still holding court before a small group of men and women. Simon could see that the men and women listened raptly as the very handsome and muscular outfielder regaled them with baseball stories. Rather than join the group, Simon steered Hugh over to a quiet corner of the terrace to discuss their plans and prepare Hugh for what he was beginning to suspect about their missing teammates.

“We’re not leaving this estate tonight, Hugh. We need to find a way to explore this compound more closely. Guards are keeping us and the other guests to a set of rooms and terraces. And I also noticed cameras discreetly placed about – so we cannot go further into the mansion from inside without being noticed. We’ll have to find a way to get in from out here.”

“I’m ready, Simon. Anything to get Danny – and the other men – back.”

“Keep focused on your training as a member of the Force, Hugh. There is another thing I must share with you. We haven’t seen the other members of the RCMP tennis squad, nor have we seen the two naval officers who were supposed to accompany them here. The man who brought us here told us they had gone ahead. I now suspect he may have lied to us.”

“Omigod, Simon. What do you suppose happened? Do you think they could have been…?”

“Kidnapped,” Simon murmured to prevent anyone overhearing this conversation. “Yes, Hugh, I suspect something underhanded. Their absence from the reception – after our driver said his father and brother had driven on ahead with them, because of our delay. They’re not here.”

“So,” Hugh saw all the pieces start to fall in place. “Whoever took the team wanted to make sure we were delayed on purpose. The elevator breakdown was no accident – but who is behind it? Do you think Michael Palaiologos could be holding the team and the naval officers here?”

“I don’t doubt that he is connected to the disappearance of Coach Colman, the other members of the tennis team, and the naval officers, but why didn’t they grab us? It does not make sense, unless Palaiologos wanted some diversion to throw suspicion away from him. He wanted us here for some reason – and not the others.”

“Do you believe he may have plans to abduct us, Simon.”

“I don’t know.” Simon paused and replayed the events of the recent past over in his head

Hugh watched Simon. God, he looks so sexy deep in thought. Hugh thought.

“Our driver – he said his name was “Costas Papas.” That’s a Greek name.”

“Yes, but there are many Greek-Canadians.” Hugh remarked.

“This man had a slight accent. It sounded as if English was not his first language.”

“What are you getting at, Simon?”

“After Johnny and I escaped the clutches of Ivan Whiplashtski in our first encounter with the Brotherhood of the Black Rope, I took up the study of the Slobobian language. It is similar to Greek, but there are differences with inflection. It’s a fine distinction.”

“You’re not a native Slobobian speaker, Simon” Hugh pointed out.

“No, but I have a knack for languages, Apart from the obvious – English – I’m fluent in French, German, and Russian.”

“But not Greek?”

“My teacher was born in Greece. He liked to point out the differences between Greek and Slobobian.”

“I see.”

“The average ear may not hear those subtle differences in inflection, but – thanks to my teacher – I’ve attuned my ear to them. The more I think of it, “Costas Papas” sounded as if he had a Slobobian accent.”

“Is there anything you cannot perfect, Simon?”

“Nothing, Hugh – when I put my mind to it – and right now, that includes finding out what has happened to all the missing men – which now – in all likelihood includes our missing squad mates and the two naval officers. Our driver probably switched places with the real Costas Papas – and we can assume Costas’s father and brother were similarly waylaid. This Brotherhood‘s reach is beyond compare. They are a brutal order who will brazenly abduct world class athletes, law enforcement agents, and naval heroes. They employ the most cold-blooded methods – such as kidnapping your kid brother to blackmail you. But Hugh – Remember! We cannot let our emotions interfere with our duties as law enforcement officers – especially tonight.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good Man – we need to slip away without being noticed. There’s probably CCTV around the grounds, but if we stick close to the trees, hedges, and bushes – we could remain undetected. We just need a…”

Just then Simon saw Price Archer raise his empty glass to a passing waiter. The waiter nodded and went off to get him another drink. The waiter was just inside the residence, when a guard stopped him to whisper something in his ear. Simon noticed the waiter nod in understanding. A short time later, the waiter returned with a new drink and gave it to the baseball player. Simon watched Archer take a few sips from the glass.

“Simon, you were saying?” Hugh drew Simon’s attention back to their conversation.
Simon turned back to Hugh, but he kept an eye on Price Archer. “If only we had some diversion that would draw any attention away from us –”

The quartet stopped playing inside and someone chimed their glass to signal everyone’s attention. An open space had formed in the middle of the reception room inside, and Michael Palaiologos stood there with Peter de Vere behind him. The host was about to give a few remarks. People on the terrace moved closer to the French Doors leading inside. Simon put his hand on Hugh’s arm to hold him back from the crowd. The men and women who had been around Price Archer listening to him talk about his career joined the others who had gathered close to the open doors. Price Archer finished the contents of his glass and started to catch up to the others, when he appeared to stumble. Simon leapt towards him to grab hold of him and prevent him from falling.

“Are you alright, sir?” Simon asked him.

“Yes. I’m just so unsteady on my feet for some reason. I feel slightly dizzy.”

Two of the guards came out from one of the open French Doors and walked quickly over to Archer, Simon and Hugh, who had positioned himself on the other side of the stricken outfielder.

“May we be of some assistance?” One of the men asked. He was about 25 years of age, stood around 6’2” tall, and weighed approximately 170lb. He had dark, brown hair, blue eyes, and striking good looks. Simon who had been keeping his attention on Price Archer, in case the man collapsed, looked up at the man to answer. Seeing him, Simon hesitated – for barely a moment – before he answered.

“He was overcome. He’s unsteady on his feet and says that he feels dizzy.” Keeping his eye on the man, Simon replied, but he betrayed nothing else.

“We’ll help him from here. Thank you very much, sir.”

“We’d like to go with him to make sure that he’s okay.” Simon declared.

“That’s kind of you, sir, but that won’t be necessary. Mr. Palaiologos would not wish to inconvenience you. And we have a fully equipped medical department with a well-qualified, attending physician here on the estate. We’ll make sure Mr. Archer is well taken care of.” The guard said.

“I really must insist that we accompany him…” Simon protested.

“And we really do insist that you, Inspector DuWright, remain here along with Inspector Warwick.”

Simon and Hugh turned around to find Peter de Vere, Palaiologos’ assistant behind them.

“We will make sure that Mr. Archer receives proper care.” Peter de Vere avowed, as he moved to guide Price Archer from Simon’s hold on him to the care of the two guards.

Simon quickly thought through his options. He knew Price Archer was being kidnapped. Should Simon thwart it now? He and Hugh could make a scene and cause the other guests to take notice. Then, Simon and Hugh could take Price Archer from the estate to safety. But Simon and Hugh would miss the chance to explore the estate further. The other kidnapped men were here. Simon was certain of that. Simon and Hugh would rescue Price Archer and the others, once they uncovered what was going on deeper inside the walls of the mansion. Allowing these men to take the outfielder with multi-million dollar contract would be a gamble. Was the gamble worth it? Simon was letting another athlete slip into the clutches of this infernal order – but if he and Hugh were successful…

Simon let go of Price Archer. The two guards escorted him inside. Simon and Hugh saw them take him through a door that was well-guarded by two other men. Peter de Vere stood beside Simon and Hugh.

“You made the right call, Inspectors. We will get Price Archer sorted. Please, enjoy the reception.”

“I’ll hold you personally responsible for his well-being, de Vere.” Simon vowed.

“Mr. Archer will be very secure, Inspector, Peter de Vere promised. He looked Simon straight in the eye before adding “– but safe. I can assure you of that.”

Simon gazed back at him. He said nothing. Peter de Vere nodded, turned, and walked back inside to join Michael Palaiologos, who was still making his remarks.

Simon guided Hugh over to a corner of the terrace away from the other guests, and where there was more privacy. Close by there were some steps leading down to the gardens and woods of the estate. Hugh remained puzzled by what he had just witnessed Simon do.

“Why did you let them take Price Archer, Simon? Why did we not accompany him?”

“We need to find out what’s going on here, Hugh – and to do that we need to get past the guarded doors and below. I’m positive the kidnapped men are here. Price Archer is safe for now – for some reason – call it intuition if you will – I trust that de Vere fellow. No harm will come to Archer. But we need to get the other men along with him back – including your brother Danny –now! There’s something mysterious going on here. We need to find out what it is and stop it – before it’s too late.”

“What is it, Simon?” Hugh grew concerned.

“One of the guards – I recognized him. I cannot believe it, but it was he!”

Who, Simon – Who?”

“He was Arvid Christian Olsen. I still cannot believe it!”

“Who is he?”

“A Norwegian Olympic speedskater – a gold medalist.”

“I’ve never heard of him.” Hugh shrugged.

“That’s understandable. He won his medals at Lillehammer.” Simon paused and then added, “in 1994.”

“What?” Hugh was incredulous. “How can that be? Those men were in their mid-twenties at most – You must be mistaken.”

“No, Hugh. I’m not. The last time the world saw Arvid Christian Olsen was in late 1994. The story was that he wished to pursue humanitarian goals quietly and without fanfare. No one has heard from him since then. Byzantine Exports – Palaiologos’ company – had set up shop in Oslo in the early 90s. Arvid Christian Olsen was last seen in Oslo in 1994. There have long been rumors amongst international law agencies that he simply did not walk away –”

“But he would be in his early fifties, Simon. No matter how athletic a regimen you keep – no man in his fifties looks as athletic and muscular as those men were. It’s impossible – unless you discover the Fountain of Youth, and that’s a myth!” Hugh countered.

“You’re right, Hugh. That’s why we need to get inside to discover what evil machinations Palaiologos and the Brotherhood of the Black Rope is devising for the kidnapped men. I strongly suspect now – that it involves human cloning. We’ve got to stop it, Hugh. If Palaiologos is cloning the missing men -- Who knows what this blasted Order has in store!!! Are you with me, Hugh?”

“You know I am, Simon. For Danny’s sake and for the sake of the others!”

The guests had started clapping, which meant that Michael Palaiologos had ended his remarks. Simon looked around and saw the few steps descending to the gardens and forest below. He grabbed Hugh by the arm.

“Come on, partner. We have a mission to accomplish.”

Simon and Hugh descended the steps and moved quickly across the garden to disappear behind the trees beyond.

Unbeknownst to them as they were talking, Peter de Vere had slipped onto the terrace once more, but he stayed in the shadows close to the wall of the residence but well within earshot of Simon’s close conversation with Hugh. He had picked up enough of it and watched as the two men now ducked away under the cover of darkness and trees. Peter smiled to himself, before returning to Michael Palaiologos’ side.

To Be Continued…

[DeeperThanRed]

Simon and Hugh finally meets with the man behind everything! And what a tense meeting it was. With his dark plan possibly revealed, I wonder how they're going to even attempt bring him down.

Luckily, de Vere might be on their side. Seeing him protect Eddie and give that nasty Penrith some well-deserved scolding was great. Glad to see him return.

As for bondage parts, Johnny and Bucky's peril was incredibly hot and creative. Here's hoping we'll learn more about what happens to kidnapped team and Handsome Price when they join them.

Great work as always.

[KidnappedCowboy]

Thank you [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention] for your comments.

You take the time and effort to read my story and comment on it. A few others do as well, like [mention]Muscle-Flex[/mention], [mention]privateandrews[/mention], [mention]george_bound[/mention], and [mention]stimle[/mention].

I try to do the same with others here. It's a great deal of effort to write these stories. I just wish more people would take the time and effort to leave a comment or two.

[privateandrews]

Yet another great chapter... I am so taken aback by the level of complexity in this wonderful kidnapping adventure. The way the story is unfolding is keeping me gripped. Thanks for you time and creativity .

[kankuro10]

Yes! A new chapter! Once again, incredible: the plot, the characters. It was very exciting. I really loved the bondage parts (and I hope we read one bondage scene with Simon and Hugh soon)