CUT & RUN / Ty and Zane Fiction

Chapter 2 – Ty Fights His Way Back

Ty could take this guy, he knew he could.  He was undefeated in every match so far.  Even the biggest bruisers had gone down to his fighting skills.  He knew his handlers were making a fortune off him, and he agreed to go along, all the while plotting his escape.  They kept him pumped up, shaved smooth from neck to groin, and oiled up like some Turkish wrestler.  He was forced to get a fresh crew cut before each match.  The look worked on him; all muscle, sweat and intensity.  After his initial capture and abuse, he had been chained with a line of prisoners and sold for hard labor.  But one of the buyers recognized his tattoo and rightly figured he could fight.  Best investment the guy ever made.  Ty would pay him back by breaking his neck.  But in the meantime he suffered through life in the middle of nowhere.  From what he could tell, he was in Afghanistan.  He had a thick metal ring permanently welded around his ankle; this was used to chain him up at night.  At least he was well fed.  He had access to a fairly decent set of weights, which he used regularly to stay fit.  His owner was all too aware of the physical power of Ty’s body, and his ability to maim or kill with his bare hands.  But his goons were armed, both with outdated handguns and a nasty, heavy wooden club which had been used regularly on Ty early on to ensure his obedience.

Ty knew everyone back home thought he was dead; that was why they hadn’t come looking for him.  He was pretty sure some or all of Sidewinder was dead; the concussion blast that knocked him on his ass and rattled his brain was enough to allow the enemy to overrun their position.  As Ty was being drug away, he was stopped, punched hard in the belly and forced to his knees.  They removed his weapons, tunic, dogtags and helmet.  He figured some other corpse was later found, badly burned, wearing his gear.  Add that to a couple actual Sidewinder bodies nearby, and no one would look too closely at dental records.  Any of Sidewinder who survived had undoubtedly suffered the same fate as Ty; but he had been on the edge of the blast zone.  He suspected he was the only one.

Ty was wrong.  Digger was mostly unharmed, but forced to surrender at gunpoint, arms raised.  He was taken and sold, his exotic black skin showed off to maximum effect stripped and oiled on the auction block, his cock stroked to keep the huge thing hard.  Owen had been killed in the blast.  Nick was seriously injured in the blast and might have survived with medical attention, but a quick slice across his throat with an enemy knife ended his life there on the battlefield.

Zane sat in open back of the aid car, bare to the waist.  The medics wanted to strap Zane down on the gurney for transport to the hospital.  He tried to tell them he could climb in the ambulance himself, but they were insistent.  He had taken three bullets, two grazes on his tricep and flank, and one through the meat of his trapezius.  None was too serious, but it was enough to be taken to the hospital.  The first responders had been outgunned, and Zane’s reckless actions kept the shooters occupied long enough for backup to arrive and surprise them from behind.  The minute they heard the shouted orders from behind them to put down their weapons, they gave up and surrendered.  It was almost too easy.  They were middle eastern, and Zane looked forward with relish to interrogating them.  Zane made eye contact with the detained men as they were led away.  They returned his gaze with placid, knowing, evil expressions.  None of the other FBI agents had sustained any injuries; it seemed odd that Zane had 3 grazes but no solid hits, and everyone else was unharmed.  It was unclear what the shooters’ motive was, but Zane looked forward to his team getting the truth during interrogation.  He assured his team he would get patched up quickly at the emergency room, then meet them back at the field office, hopefully just as the paperwork was complete on the shooters and interrogation could begin.

Once the prisoners were driven away in a police van, Zane allowed himself to be strapped down and lifted into the back of the ambulance.  There were two medics attending to him, one male and one female.  The man strapped him down while the woman called in their status, letting the hospital know they were en route, but not requiring emergency room support.  The man utilized the straps over Zane’s ankles, thighs, waist, arms and chest.  He thought it was excessive, as the tight straps cut into the meat of his pecs.  The man slammed the back doors as the woman started the car and drove off.  An IV was forced into Zane’s arm.  “What’s that for?” he asked, irritated.  “Just some fluids and antibiotics as a precaution,” the medic replied.  Zane flexed, getting angry.  “I need to get patched up quickly and back to the field office,” he complained to the medic.  “Just sit tight, you aren’t going anywhere until the doctor says so,” the medic said.  “What the fuck?” Zane started struggling.  The medic was having none of it, and quickly jabbed a hypo into the IV line, depressing the plunger all the way.  “What the hell was that?” Zane shouted.  “Sedative.  You need to calm down.  Now just relax and go to sleep,” he said, hand on Zane’s chest to calm him.  The last thing Zane remembered was the medic raising his eyelid, and calling out to the driver, “He’s out.”

The aid car shut off its flashing lights and slowed down, merging with the regular traffic.  It got on the freeway, heading out to the industrial park by the airport.  After a forty minute drive, it pulled into a nondescript garage bay next to a loading dock.  The door rattled closed behind it.  The woman got out, just as the man opened the back doors from the inside.  “He still out?” she asked.  “Stirring a bit,” the man replied.

Logan followed the GPS tracker on Zane’s vehicle to where he had left it at the scene.  He had checked the updated status board, learning what went down, three suspects in custody, and that Zane had sustained superficial injuries.  He found Zane’s car, but there was no sign of Zane.  One of the BPD officers mopping up the scene indicated Zane had been taken to UMMC.  Logan thanked him and drove to the hospital.  After flashing his ID at the receptionist to make sure she checked thoroughly, he was certain Zane had never made it to the hospital.  It wouldn’t be unlike Zane to skip out on medical treatment, so Logan headed to the field office, where he knew the team would be decomping the afternoon’s shootout, filling out paperwork, trying to follow up leads, and lining up a defender to represent the suspects they had in custody before starting his interrogation.

Logan knocked on the open door of the conference room where the team was working.  Most of the agents had been called in on their weekends, and didn’t like how close it had been before backup arrived.  One of them looked up and snarled at Logan to go away.  “Where’s Garrett?” Logan persisted.  “He’s at the hospital.  We’re waiting for him before we start grilling the ragheads,” came the answer.  “No he’s not.  I was just there,” Logan replied, holding up his phone.  “He’s not answering his phone or texts, and his car is still at the scene.”  That caused heads to snap up.  “What the hell,” came the comment after a moment of silence.  Calls were made.  A BPD black and white was dispatched to the row house.  The other hospitals in the area were checked.  Quick calls to the BPD officers who had been on scene turned up nothing.  Yes, they were certain Zane had gone in the aid car.  The EMT dispatch records were checked.   There was no record of an aid car being dispatched to the scene.  Oops.  The cops were called again.  None of them remembered calling for the aid car; when it showed up, they each just assumed someone else had called it in.  Then came the puzzled looks; had someone set up the incident only to lure Garrett there, then be sure to injure him sufficiently that an aid war was needed, but not kill him?  An expert marksman could easily pull that off.  Or was he even the target?  Who all knew he was the ASAIC on call this weekend?  Too much of it seemed random.  And they could think of no motivation. 

The EMTs who transported Zane were actual EMTs; the man had treated his injuries while he was out, and checked his vitals.  Now they wheeled the gurney out.  A man in flowing robes approached; he too was middle eastern.  Behind him were two very large, overly muscled men in dark suits.  Zane was moving a bit, but still out of it.  “Blindfold him,” the man in the robe ordered.  One of the henchmen came forward and tightly cinched a thick strip of fabric around Zane’s head, covering his eyes.  “Bind him and bring him,” he continued, turning away and returning to a stretch limo parked beyond the aid car.  As the door slammed, the EMTs began unstrapping Zane.  The henchmen easily pulled his arms in front of him and cuffed his wrists.  Larger cuffs were applied to his ankles, with a foot long chain between them.  Zane was easily lifted off the gurney and into the trunk of the limo, which was slammed.  The henchmen silently handed over envelopes stuffed with cash before returning to the limo.  Both vehicles departed.  The limo only had a short drive to the private jet terminal at the airport.  It was now after dark, and it was easy for the henchmen to haul Zane out of the trunk and load him into the plane.  He was sufficiently recovered to struggle, but in his weakened state no match for the two big bruisers.  Zane recognized the sounds of airplanes, but had no clue why he’d been taken.  He already suspected the EMT workers were in on it, but that did nothing towards connecting the dots.  He was pissed he was missing out on interrogating the suspects in FBI custody.  Then he remembered the looks they had given him as they were led away.  Shit, the whole thing had been a setup.  But who?  And why?  His train of thought was interrupted as he felt the cabin pressure change as the door was closed.  He was forced down into a seat, the seat belt closed over his waist.  He was bare to the waist, blindfolded, cuffed and shackled, bandaged up and recovering from the effects of a powerful sedative.  Best to just lie back and conserve my energy while I try and learn what’s going on, he thought to himself.  Zane seemed to doze off, seated across from the man in the robes, who had gone to considerable effort to kidnap Zane Garrett. 

Shiekh Abd al-Azzar surveyed the man across from him.  Even relaxed, his body was impressive.  The plan to lure Garrett to the scene and injure him had been his own.  The EMTs were easily located and paid off.  Even if they were found out, they didn’t know enough for the authorities to follow the trail back to Azzar.  The shooters were ex military mercenaries, hired for the job.  They had been well paid, and would be released after a time, since no real damage had been done, and they genuinely had no knowledge of Zane’s fate.  Azzar ran his eyes over Zane.  Zane had strong arms, a solid chest, broad shoulders, and a hard flat stomach and tight trim waist.  He was fairly hairy, but not as much as Azzar himself.  Zane was unshaven, his hair quite long for standard law enforcement.  Azzar knew that Zane still did undercover work from time to time, and the long hair helped him look the part.

Back in his homeland, Azzar had assembled all the male members of his extended family, to greet the plane.  Zane had recovered and rested during the long flight, but didn’t resist as his belt and shoes were removed and socks pulled off, then his pants and briefs cut off him.  Strong hands on his arms hauled him to his feet, and he was forcibly marched forward, then down and off the plane.  He shuffled, hobbled by the short chain between his ankle shackles.  Zane was not a modest man, but being helpless, blindfolded and naked was starting to unnerve him.  As his feet hit the tarmac, a cheer went up.  Shit, he had an audience.  Unknown to him, his humiliating capture was being filmed on several mobile devices, held by family members.  He heard a voice speaking Arabic as Azzar addressed his family.  The sun beat down mercilessly.  Zane put two and two together and figured he was in the middle east somewhere.  Zane was forced to his knees, and a rope dropped down over his head, cinched tight around his neck.  Azzar tugged on it, choking Zane, as he spoke.  Sweat broke out on Zane’s skin.  After Azzar stopped speaking, he was yanked to his feet, and again forced forward, toward a waiting van.  Azzar watched as the captive FBI agent was loaded.  He hadn’t seen Zane from behind after he’d been stripped, and as his eyes dropped to Zane’s buttocks he was surprised to see the clear indication of welts healing there.  Perhaps there was more to this man than he had realized.  After being hauled inside, Zane was seated on a bench that was bolted down, his ankle shackles padlocked to a ring welded to the floor.  His cuffed arms were raised over his head, and similarly secured to ring high on the wall.  The henchmen stayed in back with him as the doors were closed and locked.  The van started and drove away.  Zane’s thighs were spread wide, his cock and balls hanging low between them.  The henchmen smirked at the circumcised penis of the Westerner. 

Logan racked his brain for anything that would lead him to Zane.  He grabbed Zane’s spare keys from his desk, and moved his car to the row house.  The motorcycle was there; Zane had obviously gone home and swapped vehicles.  He found traces of lube on the side, as well as some of his own dried spunk that must have leaked out after he came inside Zane.  “Where are you, Zane?” Logan asked, thinking to himself as he walked back to his own car.  Logan didn’t know enough of Zane’s past assignments to know where to start.  He had heard some references to Miami and the de la Vega cartel, but that was it.  If Ty were here, he would know what to do.  He always had.  Logan had had all too little training time with Ty, before he was recalled to the Marines and blown up on his first mission, along with his entire team.  Zane had been inconsolable, then enraged.  He had gone off the wagon spectacularly for a brief period; only his second lapse after two years of sobriety.  He soon pulled himself together and threw himself into his new job as ASAIC and pestering the Marine Corps nonstop for details on the mission that killed Sidewinder and Ty Grady.  He knew there would have had to been serious breaches in order for an entire Force Recon team to be in a position to be wiped out.  He intended to find out who was to blame and hold them accountable.  Of course the Corps closed ranks from the beginning, but Zane was not without connections and resources.  His time in cyber crimes taught him a lot about how to get your hands on information that no one wanted you to see.  Soon he was scouring intel and situation reports, and mission orders obtained by hacking the Pentagon.  He listened to taped communications the night of the incident.  He refused to talk to anyone about Ty’s death.  Not their fellow agents, not Logan, not his sister, not Ty’s family.  He stood stoically at the funeral, hugged Ty’s mother, went through all the motions, but didn’t shed a tear.  He was a man on a mission; building his case against those responsible.  Ty had been taken from him.  The intensity of his daytime job combined with the mental stress of his covert research easily explained his need for someone else to take over from time to time.  

Logan realized he was getting nowhere and needed to clear his head.  He finally texted Master Krieger, requesting permission to come over.  “Granted.  Usual position,” was the reply.  Soon after, Logan was again in his white jockstrap, kneeling on the floor.  As Master Krieger approached, Logan dared a quick side glance over to the cage.  Empty.  Breaking protocol, Logan raised his head slightly, making eye contact with Master Krieger.  “Sir may I speak freely?” he asked.  “Yes, son,” Master Krieger said.  Logan started to lower his arms, then stopped himself.  “It’s Zane.  He’s gone.  Vanished.  Do you…  is he…  here?  Or somewhere that you are keeping him?” Logan asked.  “No, son.  When did he go missing?” Master Krieger squatted down and pulled the nearly naked Logan into his arms, running his hand down Logan’s back and into the cleft between his buttocks.  Logan loved being held against Master Krieger’s solid, hairy chest.  They chatted briefly, but Logan wasn’t able to share any classified information, and Master Krieger confirmed he hadn’t seen Zane since their aborted scene.  After this brief interruption in the scripted scene, Master Krieger asked if Logan wanted to resume the scene, or if he needed to be on his way.  Logan was torn.  “I…  want it, but my head isn’t in the right place for a full blown scene,” Logan started, but then Master Krieger dictated the course of action, which was what Logan needed.  “On your knees,” Master Krieger said, as he unsnapped his codpiece.  “You can service me orally, then I’m locking up your cock and sending you on your way.”  Logan was already starting to kneel, saying “Yes, Master” before taking Master Krieger’s erection into his mouth and losing himself in his task, if only for a brief period.  His balls full and cock locked up, Logan left Master Krieger’s house and slowly walked to his car.  

The idiot kept bringing him women to fuck.  Ty never touched them.  They didn’t speak English anyway, and even if he had been pent up enough to want to do the deed, he figured he’d catch some third world venereal disease.  He had jerked off a few times during his captivity; no man can go forever without needing to ejaculate.  But the workouts, the fights, and the constant travel took a toll on him.  They were dragging him all around the country, mostly to small or midsize towns, where he was put up against the local talent.  He took them all down.  In each venue, Ty looked for a way to escape.  He knew the furor and excitement at the end of a fight was a prime opportunity for him to get away.  He was unfettered in the ring, and his watchers’ focus was elsewhere momentarily, while the winnings were collected.  Ty had spotted a man in the audience at today’s fight; he knew the man had also been at the last three fights.  Always dressed differently.  Dark eyes and skin, he looked like a local.  But his eyes never left Ty. 

Before most of his fights, in order to promote the match, Ty and his opponent were humiliatingly displayed on raised blocks in the main square of the town.  This was where the promoters hawked tickets, the bookies laid their odds, and the locals gathered to enjoy the excitement.  Ty was always stripped down to his tight black trunks; usually his opponent was at least shirtless.  Today was no different; new town, another session on the block.  He flexed as one of the goons oiled him down.  The locals were allowed close, to touch and inspect the fighters, in order to determine who would be the victor, and the size and odds of their wager.  More than once, Ty saw women cast their eyes over his muscled torso, despite only the barest slice of their faces were exposed.  Ty was distracted by a man gripping his side from behind.  He had been instructed to stand still and let the locals poke and prod; that didn’t mean he had to like it.  The man came around front slowly, still inspecting the fighter’s body before him.  He was whistling softly, more air than noise, but Ty recognized the Marine Corps Anthem.  The man came into his line of vision, eyes locked on Ty’s, and gave him a quick nod.  It was the man who had been following them from town to town.  He kept his fingers on Ty’s flank, tapping.  It only took him a moment to realize the man was tapping out Morse code.  C-I-A.  Holy shit.  Once he knew Ty had pegged him, the man moved away, not wanting to arouse suspicion. 

The fight passed in a blur.  Ty drug it out on purpose, in order to scan the audience more closely.  It took him a while, but he spotted his CIA tail in the top row at the back.  He had previously always sat in the front row.  Spotting him was motivation enough to end it.  Ty delivered a roundhouse to his opponent’s temple, and he crashed to the mat.  As his arm was raised in victory by the referee, Ty turned in a circle to show off, but in reality he was turning to watch the CIA agent.  He caught the barest glimpse of him as he hurriedly left his seat.

Zane’s head fell to his chest and he dozed during the long ride in the van.  The henchmen talked in Arabic, but between their conversation and the heat inside the van, Zane couldn’t stay awake.  Finally the van stopped, inside a courtyard surrounded by stone walls and small sturdy buildings.  The padlocks were opened; chains rattled as Zane was escorted from the van, across the hard packed dirt, and into one of the buildings.  The sounds of metal scraping on metal told him he was in a holding facility with cells.  He was pushed forward, stumbling due to the hobble chain joining his ankles.  Some chattering in Arabic, and the cuffs and shackles were removed.  Then came the sound of the cell door being slammed and locked.  Zane was locked in; he tentatively raised his arms and removed the blindfold.  He held it in one hand, rubbing his wrists, as he heard the retreating footsteps of his captors.  He glanced around at the small cell.  One wall was masonry, with a small barred window placed high up.  On either side were other cells.  The final side had the door.  He was the only prisoner.  Against the wall was a spartan cot, soiled with age and use.  Next to it was a bucket, presumably to piss in.  He sat on the cot, forearms on his knees, leaning forward, thinking. 

Back in the camp, Ty’s ankle had been chained up and he was sitting outside his tent, wolfing down a surprisingly good meal.  He knew he ate much better than the average local.  His keeper knew that he needed lots of protein for strength and carbohydrates for endurance.  Setting aside his plate, Ty leaned back on one arm, and rubbed his full belly with the other.  He was still just in his fighting trunks.  It was a warm evening.  A quick flash caught Ty’s attention.  It looked like the reflection off a mirror.  Before he could identify the source or location, one of the goons came over to his tent.  He gathered up the empty bowl and spoon, and gestured for Ty to go into his tent.  Time for sleep.  His owner wanted his property well rested.  The goon no longer had to threaten Ty with a weapon to get him to obey.  One too many whacks with the club during his first few months of captivity had been deterrent enough.  Ty went inside, and laid on his bedroll.  He was allowed a tent to himself, with the goons sleeping in a tent nearby.  The owner had a much more opulent tent, complete with soft pillows and light fixtures.  The ankle shackle rattled as he lay down, leaning on one elbow.  The wind blew the tent flap around; Ty had left it open.  Time passed, and eventually Ty lay down on his back, his hands behind his head.  Darkness fell; the moon was mostly full, so Ty saw the shadow pass in front of his tent flap.  Quickly and efficiently, his CIA buddy slipped inside.  “You’re awake,” he said in English, with a standard American accent.  “Been expecting you,” was Ty’s calm reply, as he sat up.  They quickly shook hands.  “I’m Eklund,” the CIA man said.  “Grady,” Ty replied.  “I know,” Eklund nodded as he replied.  Eklund was sitting calmly, seemingly in no rush.  “So what’s the plan?” Ty asked.  “Your keepers will be asleep for a few hours,” he said.  “I’m assuming you have something in mind for your owner?”  Ty’s intense stare was all the answer Eklund needed.  The CIA man would stand by while Ty ended the life of the man who had done this to him.  Ty shook his leg, rattling the chains.  Eklund handed over the pick to jimmy it open, which Ty did with some difficulty.  Ty took a moment to run his hands over the abraded skin of his ankle; he had built up a callous over time, but it still hurt.  He would carry the scars on his ankle, and the memory of it, for the rest of his life.  The two men exited the tent, staying low, and made their way to the owner’s tent.  Eklund quickly glanced both ways before nodding to Ty to go do what he needed to do.  Eklund heard the brief surprised cry of the owner, before the sickening crack of his neck being broken.  As Ty re-emerged, he said quietly “I needed him to know it was me.”  “Understood.  I’ve been tracking you for a while, I know what he’s made you do,” Eklund replied, handing Ty a cloth duffel.  Ty quickly pulled out the garments and put them on.  He was already dirty and dark enough that he wouldn’t stand out in a crowd.  The two men left the camp, heading towards the dirt road leading out of town, conversing easily in the local dialect, hiding in plain sight.

Zane was kept in the cell for over a week.  Food and water was delivered daily, and the waste bucket emptied.  He knew what they were up to; any man would start to lose his sanity after that long in a confined space with no interaction or conversation.  However Zane was trained and experienced in such mind games, and he had more than the average ability to keep the mental breakdown at bay.  Each day he did punishing calisthenics and abdominal strengthening exercises.  Then he would lay on his cot and mentally go through any list he could think of.  US Presidents, Kings of England, dynasties and pharaohs of ancient Egypt, the Greek gods and their associated myths.  He lay for hours this way, staring up at the water stained ceiling, hands behind his head.  Sometimes the guard watched Zane.  The prisoner had started to stink, because of the sweat he worked up each day as he worked out.  And his beard was starting to grow in.  Zane hadn’t been given any toiletries, nor the opportunity to wash.  He considered using some of his drinking water to clean or at least rinse the grime off his body, but he thought the further unkempt he looked, the more his captors would think they were getting to him.  Years of undercover work made Zane a fine actor.  The plan he formulated in his head was to appear to be losing it, so that when they took him out of the cell, as they eventually must intend to, he could dupe them into relaxing their guard.  Then he would strike.  But the nagging question remained in the front of his mind:  why had he been brought here?  He didn’t speak Arabic, so there was no information to be gained from overhearing the guards.  They watched him round the clock, one out of the same pool of three or four men appearing every eight hours or so to relieve one of his comrades.  They mostly sat and smoked; sometimes they looked at their prisoner with idle curiosity.  If he were ever allowed outside his cell he figured he could easily take any of them down in hand to hand.  Even though each guard always had a sidearm at the ready, that wouldn’t be a problem once Zane got within the reach of his long arms.  But the days passed with no change in the monotony.  If Zane were honest with himself, he would have to acknowledge that they were starting to get to him. 

“Who sent you,” was Ty’s first question.  “The government.  Multiple branches cooperated, including the Marines, FBI and CIA,” Eklund replied.  “What took you so long?” Ty asked, not belligerently.  “It’s hard to find a needle in a haystack.  Not much of a trail.  Took months before some dickwad in the FBI kept hacking CIA systems to determine that the corpse with your name on it had more fillings than you do.  Glad he did, or no one would have looked for a living Sidewinder.”  This sentence was almost too much to take in at once.  Before he could get back to the FBI dickwad comment, Ty asked hoarsely, “My men…  did any of them…?” Never one to hedge anything, Eklund replied right away, reciting the facts as if he were giving a report.  “The black guy is missing.  The Irishman was found with his throat slit, almost beheaded.  He had sustained some pretty heavy injuries.  The other Caucasian was killed in the blast.”  Eklund kept walking as he said all this, knowing that Ty needed some time to process.  Ty exhaled after he realized he’d been holding his breath.  “Oh God, Nick…” Ty said.  The news hit him hard; to have    Nick’s life end that way was something no Marine should have to suffer.   Ty asked, “Were the bodies recovered?  Full military honors and burial?”  “Of course,” Eklund responded.  “At Arlington no less.  The Marine Corps Commandant gave the eulogy,” Eklund continued.  Eklund gripped Ty’s shoulder, not releasing it as he spoke.  “You were buried that day as well, Staff Sergeant Grady.  You still are dead and buried as far as the world knows.  Once the sniffing around uncovered something, it was quickly put under wraps.  If word had leaked out, we would have lost the trail forever,” Eklund explained.  Ty’s wheels were turning again.  “This FBI dickwad you mentioned…?” he asked.

“We were having him watched.  Seemed to go about his job with efficiency and good results.  Respected by his team, and all that.  But at night he was hacking our databases.  I’m embarrassed to admit with some success,” Eklund said.  “Zane Garrett,” Ty said quietly.  “It was Zane Garrett, wasn’t it?”  Eklund nodded, before stopping Ty with a hand on his shoulder.  “Look Grady, I know what you two are to each other.  Garrett suffered in his own personal hell when he got the news about Sidewinder.  I don’t even think at first he actually thought you were alive, it was just something to cling to, for him to pursue and uncover every single detail about the mission,” Eklund explained.  Ty nodded slowly as the two resumed walking.  “He needed to drag himself over the coals,” Ty muttered, “because his greatest fear was realized; that he wasn’t there when it counted.” 

Eklund continued.  “At first we didn’t know who was hacking us.  We would just get these encrypted downloads from a secure server, containing a bunch of our own data with apparently his analysis highlighted and summarized.  Initially we were more concerned about the data security breach.  But after a while one of our analysts come forward and said our hacker was onto something.  That’s when we starting looking for you…  and for him.”

“How did you follow the trail back to Garrett?” Ty asked, knowing Zane was the master at covering his cyber tracks. 

“Easy,” Eklund said.  “Obviously we had already interviewed everybody in the Baltimore field office, Garrett included.  That man is an excellent actor.  But at that same time, the office was ratting out a mole, as you know.  Well, we found her, and she spilled the beans about you and Garrett being involved.  That’s when we starting following him.  Sure enough, he was burning the midnight oil hunting down any trace of you and Sidewinder.”

“So, does he know that you assholes finally got off your butts and started searching for us?” Ty asked, somewhat belligerently.

“No,” Eklund continued, for one his voice carrying less confidence.  “Just when we were about to contact him directly and bring him in for some debriefing, he disappeared,” Eklund said. 

Ty snorted.  “And by ‘bring him in for some debriefing’ you mean show up with guns drawn and lead Zane away in handcuffs to one of your interrogation rooms with a table and chair bolted to the floor and a two way mirror.  Been there, done that,” Ty added with a mirthless laugh.  “He knew you were onto him, and he avoided your invitation to live in a happy padded cell.  He’s probably down in Mexico somewhere.  He can fit in and disappear across the border.”  Ty just hoped Zane wasn’t drowning in Tequila.

Eklund nodded, contemplating Ty’s theory.  It had been his original conclusion as well.  Until he circled back and tailed one of the young agents in Zane’s group one evening.  A redheaded kid named Logan, who had ostensibly driven over to the house of a friend or acquaintance, parked and walked to the house with a duffel bag in one hand.  Strangely, he went to a side door and entered without knocking.  He didn’t emerge for hours.  During that time Eklund had gotten bored, and needed to piss from all the coffee he’d drunk to stay awake.  He’d figured he may as will kill two birds, and quietly slipped into the side yard to relieve himself in the bushes and see if he could figure out who the kid was visiting.  The lights were on upstairs, but no sign of anyone.  Then he spotted a basement window well with dim lights showing through, nearly blocked by thick vegetation.  As he had parted the branches, Eklund’s eyebrows shot up.  Ho-ly shit, he thought.  The kid was naked and strung up, being whipped by some leather daddy.  Eklund considered intervening, until he remembered that the kid had entered seemingly willingly.  So he watched, recording snippets of the scene with the video on his phone.  The kid’s cock was rock hard during the whipping.  Eklund wasn’t surprised when the leather daddy unsnapped his codpiece and fucked the kid in the ass.  He seemed to like it, even shooting off onto the floor as he was butt fucked.  Eklund was straight and married, but the interaction between the dom and sub was powerfully erotic.  Afterwards, the kid knelt on the floor as the leather daddy sat in a chair, enjoying a drink.  Then they embraced, and the kid got dressed again and left.  Eklund remained hidden in the yard until after the kid left, then quietly and efficiently wired the house with surveillance devices to listen in.  Within a week the kid was back for another session, this time staying overnight, so Eklund had hours of tape to review.  It was after the sex and during the decomp that he hit paydirt, when the leather daddy asked about Zane.  It was obvious that his disappearance was as much a mystery to them as it was to the CIA.  But it was equally obvious that Zane had been an additional participant in the rough sex play.  When interviewed, Logan had professed nothing but admiration and appreciation for Garrett helping him thrive as a young agent.  So instead of Zane, Logan had been the semi willing guest in the interrogation room, Eklund drinking in all the details as he built a mental profile of Zane Garrett.  Eklund had also paid a visit to the leather daddy, a man named Krieger, who invited him in and they chatted amiably while seated in the living room.  Krieger made no secret of his proclivities and activities.  He expressed a liking for Zane, and a deep concern about his disappearance.  Krieger recounted the interrupted scene on the day of Zane’s disappearance.  He even mentioned Logan before Eklund asked, trying to be helpful.  Eklund shook hands with Krieger before leaving, convinced the man was telling the truth and that there were no more leads here.

None of this would benefit Ty to hear, so Eklund kept it to himself, easily covering up the truth by leading Ty to believe that the mole’s revelation of his and Zane’s romantic involvement was how they found out Garrett had been hacking them.  Garrett had thought Ty was dead.  And Garrett seemed dark and tormented enough to seek out the sort of rough physical and sexual play that he had witnessed between the Krieger and Logan.  So Eklund just nodded, letting Ty think he believed the Mexico theory.  Time enough to reveal more to Ty on the long journey home, after he processed the loss of his team.  The man had to be made of iron to remain stoic after the ordeal he had suffered since being recalled to the Marines.

Chapter 3 – Teetering on the Brink of Sanity

Ty and Eklund made it back to the rendezvous point with Eklund’s pickup.  They spent the next nine hours rumbling in the back of a truck, Ty dozing as Eklund kept watch out the back with a semiautomatic across his lap.  Once they got to the evac point, the two men waited in the low cover provided by some shrubbery until dark.  They heard the chopper before they saw its darkened form descend rapidly.  It barely touched the ground as both men scrambled aboard, then a quick thumbs up and it lifted off again, headed towards a US base in the Emirates, and safety.

Zane looked up at the unfamiliar noise of the key rattling in the lock.  He’d been in the cell just over a week, and hadn’t exercised his vocal cords the entire time.  He had punished his body and struggled to keep his mind sharp.  He had been fed sparingly but allowed plenty of water.  He knew he had lost a few pounds; his belly was almost concave.  He knew he would be no match for the guards in his weakened state, so he stood when they beckoned and allowed himself to be put back in shackles.  He blinked repeatedly at the bright sunshine as they led him across the courtyard to the large stone building opposite.  He had long since lost any modesty; his limp cock and balls swung free.  He knew he was stinking and filthy.  But he held his head high as he was led into a plush interior room where Azzar and the male members of his family were comfortably seated.  The guards coaxed Zane to kneel, pushing on his shoulders, but he resisted.  His knees were quickly kicked out, and he hit the stone floor hard, the chains rattling.  Azzar moved his gaze from Zane’s hairy groin up to his eyes.  “I see you still have your sanity.  That will go soon.  But look at you, stinking filthy American, on your knees before your betters.  Finally in the position you are meant for.  Naked, subservient.  I would sell you, but you wouldn’t bring in enough to cover my costs.  Instead, I will keep you and enjoy breaking you.”  Zane’s eyes remained locked on Azzar’s as he spoke.  Then Zane straightened his shoulders, narrowed his eyes, and uttered the first word he’d spoken in over a week.  His voice was raspy but clear as he asked, “Why?”

Ty sat on the edge of the exam table, weight supported on his arms, legs dangling over the side.  His cock and balls hung limp between his legs.  He’d never been modest, and was no stranger to the annual physical he’d endured in the Marines.  This one was much the same.  The doc, a mid forties lean dark haired guy from New England, had checked him over thoroughly and tended to his injuries.  Scrapes were treated, a few bruises palpated, some healing salve put on a welt on Ty’s back.  He had checked Ty’s balls for any lumps, and shoved a lubed, gloved finger up Ty’s ass.  Ty’s eyes followed the Doc as he listened to Ty’s heart.  “You’re fit as a fiddle,” the Doc said.  “But I still need to do a blood draw to make sure you didn’t pick something up.”  The Doc prepped the blood draw, holding Ty’s arm in position as he slid the needle in.  “You have any unprotected sex out there?” he asked.  Ty barked a laugh.  “No sex at all.  Unless you count my right hand,” Ty replied.  “I don’t,” the Doc said, “being away from my wife for months at a time, I’ve been known to take care of matters at hand.”  “Oh shit,” Ty asked, “is this your way of working me up to giving you a semen sample?”  The Doc laughed.  “No.  At least not yet.  I want to see how your blood work comes back first,” the Doc said.  “You can hop down and get dressed, we’re all done here.  The Doc labeled the vial of blood as Ty pulled his briefs on, then his jeans.  Eklund had taken him to the BX and bought him some clothes when they’d arrived on base.  “Results should be in within a week,” the Doc said.  Doc’s eyes went quickly to Ty’s bare chest, before returning to Ty’s face.  Doc was used to examining fit men in the military, but the clear signs of being a fighter were written all over Ty’s body.  He was lean and ripped, shaved smooth, and had a haunted look in his eyes.  Ty jumped when he felt the Doc’s hand on his shoulder.  “I have a degree is psychiatry,” he said quietly.  “Come see me.  Sometimes talking helps.”  Ty bit back a smartass response, as he could see the Doc was genuinely reaching out to help him.  “Yeah, ok, thanks Doc,” Ty said, subdued.  His muscles relaxed for the first time since he spotted his CIA tail at the fight.  “You want some pills?” the Doc offered.  “No.  Thanks, but I react badly to most things,” Ty replied.  The Doc just nodded, eyes following Ty as he left the exam room, tucking his shirt in.

Zane withstood the whipping stoically.  Still on his knees, being watched by Azzar and his family, his back criss crossed with welts, some of them oozing blood down his back.  When Azzar saw the first drop of Zane’s blood land on the floor, he raised his hand for the whipping to stop.  Zane was shaking but hadn’t called out.  He knew now why the spot he was kneeling was the only area not covered by expensive rugs.  “Take him back to his cell,” Azzar commanded.  Zane was grabbed under the arms and pulled to a standing position, then force marched out of the room.  Azzar’s gaze moved from Zane’s flogged back to the floor where he had knelt for the whipping.  Four feet in front of the drops of blood were the milky spatters of Zane’s ejaculation. 

“Where’s the couch I’m supposed to lie down on, Doc?” Ty asked.  Doc moved aside to let Ty in, offering his hand to shake.  “We’re just going to sit and shoot the shit for a while, how does that sound?”  Ty sat down heavily on the couch as the Doc brought two beers in, uncapping them.  “Alcohol will help relax you,” Doc said, “plus you could stand to put on a couple pounds,” he added.  Ty rubbed his flat hard stomach through his tshirt.  “No way am I getting fat.  I worked hard for this body.  Something good had to come out of all that shit I went through.”  Doc sat next to Ty, not too close, and just looked over at him.  “How much do you already know?” Ty asked, assuming Eklund’s report would have been part of Doc’s briefing.  “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Doc said, taking a drink of his beer.  Ty nodded, took a deep drink himself, and started reliving the nightmare.

Two hours and four beers later, Ty rested his head on the back of the couch.  Dried tear tracks streaked his face.  At one point he had lifted his tshirt hem to dry his eyes, giving Doc a fine view of his ridged abdominals.  “So that’s it, Doc,” Ty said.  Doc had finished the other two beers, both sitting empty on the coffee table.  He had shifted on the couch in order to watch Ty as he outlined his recent past.  Ty’s body had visibly relaxed, partly from the beers and partly from unburdening his mind.  Ty’s arms were at his sides, relaxed, his big biceps stretching the sleeves.  The disfigured bulldog tattoo was showing.  Ty already had an appointment to start getting it put back to rights. 

Doc put a hand on Ty’s arm.  “You were following orders.   Your men dying…  that wasn’t your fault.  What happened to you after…  I can’t imagine most men making it through that ordeal.”  Ty just nodded, raising the empty beer bottle to his mouth before setting it on the table with the others.  “And, you need to get your butt home and re-connect with your family ASAP, Marine,” Doc continued.  Ty nodded again, knowing there was a list of things he had to get gone, none of which were going to be easy.  “But most important,” Doc said, “is Zane.  He’s more than your partner, isn’t he Ty?  You guys are lovers…  or maybe you’re just fucking…  but there’s more there than you let on.”  Ty raised his head, eyes narrowed.  Sometimes he hated shrinks, but Doc seemed genuine, so he just nodded.  He sighed, resting his head back against the couch once more.  “We’re more than just fucking.  It started out that way.  But we’re shacked up…  partners, lovers, boyfriends, whatever the fuck you want to call it.”  “Do you love him?” the Doc asked.  “Yeah,” was Ty’s quiet but heartfelt answer.

As Doc showed Ty out, he patted him on the side saying, “Come see me again, anytime you want.”  “Thanks Doc,” Ty said, hesitating at the door.  He continued, “How did you know that Zane and I were involved?”  Doc chuckled.  “You got a hardon when you talked about him.  Still do,” he added, nodding down at Ty’s tented jeans.  “Come see me if you need help with that as well,” Doc said, closing the door on Ty’s open mouth.  Doc jerked off before going to bed.  So did Ty.

Zane was back in his cell, his mind in turmoil.  Confusing, conflicting thoughts and images of Ty, Krieger, Logan, and Azzar were bouncing around his brain.  He lay face down, head to the side, legs spread slightly.  The remains of his load still clung to the end of his cock.  He had stood docile while they removed the chains and shoved him back into his cell.  But now he was flying on adrenaline, shaking lightly as he came down from the endorphin rush of the whipping.  He barely remembered that he had shot off, trying to block that out of his mind, because admitting that it had happened at all was dangerous territory for someone teetering on the edge of sanity.

Chapter 4 – Forced Ejaculations, for Better or Worse

They were definitely getting to Zane; Azzar could see it in his eyes which were haunted, locked on Azzar during each session as he withstood inhuman amounts of pain.  Never calling out, still waiting for the answer to his single word question of why he had been brought here.  Azzar would keep him guessing; it was yet another way to drive the naked prisoner insane.  Zane was a master at taking pain.  He had been trained well before his first undercover assignment, and had a healthy amount of field experience, with the scars to prove it.  Krieger had never scarred him, although he certainly had upped Zane’s pain threshold.  Zane knew how to steel his mind and body against the pain, although he had chipped a tooth by clenching his jaw too tightly for too long.  Sometimes it was a whipping; other times, never ending gut punches; even electricity to his nipples and testicles, and sounds forced down his erect penis.  Each session ended in the deposit of a load of Zane’s thick semen on the floor, torn from his huge, achingly hard penis as he reveled in the pain.  Zane was able to think back through his memory to his body being trained to react that way by Master Krieger.  Although he could no longer remember exactly what Krieger looked like; instead, Azzar was filling his mind as the man forcing these ejaculations from his exhausted body.  He tried to blank that out, but it was hard as he stared at the man during his sessions, seated comfortably in his flowing robes.  Azzar was frustrated at the slow progress, and as he stared at Zane’s deflating cock as he was drug back to his cell once again, he landed on a clever plan to further get inside the American FBI agent’s head.  He called out in Arabic to the guards, “Send the physician to see to his wounds.  And give him plenty of the best food.” 

Ty was coming down off an ejaculation himself, also forced from his body.  He was strapped down to the exam table in Doc’s office, the door locked.  They had had another couple evening sessions over a six pack before Ty admitted to himself that he was attracted to the man.  Doc had certainly opened to door to some no strings man on man, but Ty told himself he couldn’t be with another man behind Zane’s back, even if Zane was MIA.  Eklund had given Ty a full report on the efforts to track Garrett down.  So far no leads, except the Middle Eastern men who had been involved in Zane’s injuries had been brought back in for questioning.  They would have been able to leave the United States, with no formal charges brought after the incident, except for the FBI holding up their exit visas.  They were being interrogated that very day, and the FBI hoped to find out what role the men played in Garrett’s disappearance.  Logan, McCoy and Burns were all watching through the two way mirrors as the men were questioned over and over.  A different set of agents were following up on the possibility that Zane had quietly slipped down to his family’s ranch in Texas, and subsequently over the border into Mexico.

Two days ago, anxious to be heading for home but awaiting medical clearance, Ty had received notification of a follow up appointment to his physical.  He showed up as ordered, and was shown into Doc’s exam room.  “So am I clear to go home, Doc?” Ty asked.  “Almost, Grady.  Just a couple more quick things I need to check out.  Strip down for me.  You can put on a gown or not, your choice,” Doc said.  “Was my blood work clean?” Ty asked, as he started putting his discarded clothes in a neat pile on top of his shoes.  He shook out his cock and balls and sat naked on the exam table.  “Lay back for me,” Doc instructed, not answering Ty’s question.  By now Ty trusted the Doc, so he did as he was asked.  Doc started doing a few routine checks, including listening to various spots on Ty’s chest with his stethoscope.  Doc started talking to Ty, low and steady.  “You’re clean, Grady.  But I want to see the haunted look leave your eyes.  I think a good old fashion hand job would do you wonders, don’t you?”  Before Ty could form a response, either to laugh it off or respond in kind, Doc had stretched one of the straps across the table, securing it on the other side, the seat belt type material digging into Ty’s pecs.  “What the hell, Doc?” Ty said, tensing but not really struggling.  “I’ll stop if you want, and let you up.  But it won’t be your fault if I force you,” Doc continued, still in his low voice, as he cinched the strap over Ty’s belly.  “Ah shit,” Ty said, as his cock stiffened.  He finally gave up and lay there, letting Doc secure his biceps, thighs and ankles.  His legs were spread wide, giving Doc full access to his groin.  His cock was starting to bob in the air, interested but not fully hard yet.  “Do I get a gag too, Doc?” Ty asked, sarcastically.  Doc turned back from locking the door.  “If you want one, yes.”  Doc’s hands went to his fly, unzipping his trousers and hauling out his fully hard cock.  Sizable, but not huge.  He stroked it a few times as he approached Ty, then ran a hand appreciatively up Ty’s hard belly, to his solid pecs, tweaking the nipples.  Ty’s cock twitched in response.  Doc got some lube, and started slowly stroking Ty’s hard dick.  Ty leaned his head back, and gave in to the pleasurable feelings the Doc was giving him.  He really did like the guy.  He looked down his torso, strapped to the table, and his eyes fell on Doc’s face.  Doc was mesmerized by Ty’s cock, stroking it leisurely.  “Take your shirt off, Doc,” Ty asked.  Doc stopped jerking just long enough to unbutton his shirt then shrug it off his shoulders.  Impressively fit, the Doc had a tight, muscular torso dusted with dark hair.  At this point precum was leaking from the tip of Doc’s erection.  Ty wondered idly what the Doc intended to do with that thing.  Hopefully just give himself a hand job like he was doing for Ty.  Doc prodded Ty’s hole, then slid a lubed finger up inside him.  Ty grunted in slight pain, but soon moaned as the Doc hit his prostate and started rubbing it over and over.  The man knows what he’s doing, Ty thought, as Doc started doing a number on his cock, speeding up the stroking.  “Go with it, Grady.  Just relax.  Cum for me when you’re ready, no rush.   We both know you need a good ball draining before you head home to deal with the shitstorm.”  Ty glanced back up at the Doc, whose pecs and abs were tensed as he saw to Ty’s orgasm.  The sight of the fit man taking care of his patient put him over the edge.  Ty gave a short series of grunts as he ejaculated.  Gobs of his white spunk pelted his torso, slowly dripping down his sides.  “Nice,” Doc said, milking the last drops out.  He pulled his finger most of the way out, before adding a second one.  “Just stretching you a bit more,” Doc said.  Ty blinked, processing what the Doc said.  Doc was stretching Ty with one hand, and jerking himself slowly with the other, adding lube to his cock.  “You gonna do me, Doc?” Ty asked.  “You know it,” Doc answered, without looking up.  “Here it comes,” Doc continued, as he removed his fingers and forced his cockhead into Ty’s tight hole.  Ty grunted, full, stretched, but feeling complete and on solid ground at the intrusion.  He laid his head back as Doc bottomed out inside him.  As Doc started his rhythm, holding Ty’s legs in position as he fucked him, he started talking again.  “You’re clear to go home tomorrow, Grady.  Eklund already put the transport orders through.  I told him I needed to see you one final time.  Hope you don’t mind.  And don’t worry about no condom.  I’m gonna bareback you, but we’re both clean,” Doc said.  Ty just nodded, not really having a choice anyway, and enjoyed the feel of Doc’s bare cock sliding into him.  It didn’t take long before Doc unloaded into Ty, rearing his head back and trying to remain quiet, since other patients were in the adjoining exam rooms.  Breathing returning to normal, Doc pulled out and put his dick away.  He cleaned Ty up and unstrapped him.  Before Ty got dressed, Doc offered a hug, which was accepted and returned with a tight embrace.  “Thanks, Doc,” Ty said, “for everything.  I won’t forget you.”  “Me neither,” Doc replied, patting Ty’s ass.  “Best of luck to you.  And everything will work itself out, just give it time,” he finished, ending the hug.  Both men were all business as Doc unlocked the door, letting Ty take the first step toward recovering his life back home.  The only thing missing was the man he wanted to spend his life with.  Ty’s mind was clear of the ghosts behind him; Doc had fucked that out of him.  Now he could focus.  ‘Where are you, Zane?’ Ty thought to himself, as he clutched his transport orders in his hand and went to his quarters to retrieve his duffel.

Zane had put on a couple pounds, and his injuries had mostly healed up.  He knew he had some new permanent scars on his back, but the physician had looked after him with care, visiting every other day for a week now.  Zane remained naked, but had been allowed to bathe when the doctor informed the guards that in order to carry out Azzar’s orders, the patient must be allowed soap and water to kill germs and prevent infection.  The food was plentiful and nutritious.  But the isolation was again starting to get to Zane.  He tried tracing every possible case he had worked on back to some sort of Middle Eastern connection.  He had little doubt that it was FBI activity that had landed him here.  Something somewhere on one of his cases must have caused damage to Azzar’s operation.  But Zane couldn’t even come up with what that could be.  Drugs?  Arms?  Some sort of political maneuvering?  But they hadn’t filmed him, as far as he knew, to post it on the internet with demands in exchange for Zane’s release.  That meant they intended to keep him.  Or kill him.  Whenever he remembered to do so, Zane went through his sets of abdominals and pushups.  But the fact that he forgot sometimes, so caught up in trying to answer the question of why he was here, told him he was starting to lose it.  After a week and a half of no torture, and thus no ejaculation, Zane decided that jerking off might clear his head and help him focus.  He did it in the middle of the night, catching his load in his hand and licking it clean, to leave no trace.  But the guard must have figured it out, because the next time his physician visited, he fitted Zane with a chastity device that prevented him from achieving erection.  He was left alone the next two weeks, with his mind slowly slipping away.

Chapter 5 – Ty Comes Home; Zane Loses Himself

It was Logan who had finally broken through the raghead’s resolve.  It was clear he intended to tell the FBI nothing.  All three of the suspects had been brought in and interrogated separately.  The FBI tried various techniques of getting them to talk, none of which was successful, until Logan decided to play the fool.  He was the flunky, getting coffee for the more senior agents, looking wide eyed and innocent, and not too smart.  Behind his back the senior agents rolled their eyes at the kid; and when he was out of the room they talked disparagingly about him.  The ringleader of the ragheads fell for it; and anyway, such a young, skinny redheaded boy couldn’t be any threat.  So when Logan was bringing him his evening meal in his cell, the ringleader bragged to Logan that the agents interrogating him and his men would never find out the truth.  Logan pretended to caution him not to say anything, but within 48 hours Logan had the whole story.  The three Middle Eastern men had been hired to create a situation to which the FBI would respond, then to graze the very tall dark haired man without seriously injuring him.  Once this was done, they could escape or surrender.  What had happened to Zane after that, he had no idea.  But Logan had gotten a name of who hired them.  Abd al-Azzar.  He was well known to the CIA, so Burns reached out to his contacts at Langley to find out what we knew about this man.  They still didn’t know where or how Zane had disappeared between the shooting and the hospital, but it was generally assumed he hadn’t gone underground on his own.  His family’s ranch had already been visited surreptitiously; it would be impossible to contact his to inquire if he was visiting, without raising an alarm.  And at this point, the fewer people who knew they were on the trail, the better, so the FBI and CIA focused on Azzar.

Ty slept soundly on the long flight from back to the States.  He was checked out again at Walter Reed, then endured two weeks of debriefing by the Marines.  Ty was belligerent the whole time.  These fuckers wanted answers from HIM, whom THEY had sent in, along with his team, to the slaughter.  They threatened jail time; they threatened court martial and loss of pension; they threatened anything and everything.  Ty threatened to go public with his story, and how would that look, a Marine Recon team wiped out because of ineptitude, with the sole survivor, an American citizen and decorated Marine, kept chained as a cage fighter in a foreign land for months?  They backed down.  Ty genuinely didn’t know anything about what happened; he had been following orders and then he and his men had been blown up.  The books were finally closed on the mission, and Ty was discharged then handed over to the FBI.  The homecoming with Dick was tense. 

“What have you told my parents, Dick?” Ty asked.  “Nothing.  Not yet.  They still think you’re dead.  Tyler, they attended your funeral at Arlington.  Mara received the folded flag.  Earl was never more proud, nor more heartbroken,” Dick said.  Ty shut his eyes on the mental image.  This would rock their world.  But it had to be done.  “I’ve told your folks I’m coming for a visit, Ty.  This weekend.  I’ve arranged for you to travel with me,” Dick finished.  “Yeah, all right,” Ty said, sighing heavily.  Then he looked Dick in the eyes, “But I’m calling Deuce.  Like, right now,” Ty demanded.  Dick handed over his phone, leaving the office to give Ty some privacy.  When he returned, Ty was quiet, pensive as he handed the phone back.  “Deuce and Livi are coming down this weekend too,” Ty said.  Dick just nodded, waiting for Ty to continue.  Again Ty stood straight and looked Richard Burns in the eye.  “Tell me what you know about Zane.  And if you leave out even one single detail I’ll go rogue on you and sell out half your undercover agents,” Ty threatened.  Dick returned Ty’s intense look, then gestured for him to sit down, as he got a file out of a locked desk drawer.  “It was Logan who opened the first crack.  You trained him well, Ty.  You and Zane both,” Dick said.  “Damn right,” Ty said, thinking back to the evenings spent at the row house, Ty somewhat jealous of the time the two of them were dedicating to training the rookie, which meant less time alone together.  And the kid’s obvious hero worship of Zane bugged the crap out of him.  What he couldn’t admit to himself, was that Ty himself was usually the hero and it felt odd to share the limelight.  But he bit down his simmering anger as he remembered watching Zane, happy and thriving, having an opportunity to share his experience.  Zane had always been such a loner, Ty didn’t begrudge him.  Ty thought back to those happy times, and would have given anything to be back there, before being recalled, before being blown up, before Zane disappearing, as Ty now knew he had.  Most likely against his will.

Zane lost count of the days.  At first he religiously went through a series of mental exercises to try and keep his mind sharp.  He recalculated what day it was every day, or so he thought.  The morning that he became confused about what the previous day’s date was, he knew that his mental processes were starting to erode.  By a rough estimation, it had been a month since his capture, and a couple weeks since he had last any human interaction aside from the guards bringing him food and water, and emptying his waste bucket.  So he was startled by the sound of the key in the lock of his cell door.  He blinked as the two burly guards that he remembered from back when he was being tortured every day came into his cell.  The process of chaining him and marching him across the courtyard was repeated.  The forcing him to his knees in front of Azzar and the other men of his family was repeated.  The torture was repeated.  Zane wasn’t even certain if the doctor visits and two weeks of healing up had actually happened as he zoned out, the lashes on his back slowly being added on top of each other, relentlessly, evenly spaced out, covering every inch of his broad back, from the top of his buttocks to his shoulders.  A throbbing in Zane’s groin caught his attention.  He looked down, and gasped.  His cock was trying to swell and become erect, but was prevented from doing so by the chastity device.  His abdominal muscles tensed, trying to deal with the subdued pain in his lower belly.  Confused, he looked up, seeking Azzar.  He made eye contact.  Azzar gave a slight, triumphant grin.  Zane lowered his head in submission as Azzar raised his hand to stop the flogging.  Zane heard soft, padded footsteps.  The room was silent, every eye except Zane’s following Azzar as he crossed the room to stand in front of his captive.  Zane saw the hem of Azzar’s robe in front of him.  Then Azzar’s plush sandals as his robe was hiked up.  Azzar prodded Zane’s chin.  Zane looked up, and took the thick cock that was being offered into his mouth.

Ty waited in the car.  Dick’s car.  In the back seat, so he couldn’t be seen through the tinted windows.  Deuce’s car was already parked in the gravel in front of the house in Bluefield.  Ty watched as Dick gave a quick knock on the doorframe, opening and entering without waiting for a response.  Ty fought back tears, looking around the family home, familiar and foreign at the same time.  Minutes passed.  Then Ty’s phone buzzed, and he stepped out of the car.  His boots crunched on the gravel as he walked towards the porch.  Jesus fucking Christ, he thought to himself, I’m walking like I really AM dead.  He stopped, steeled himself, raised his head and squared his shoulders.  Looking back later, he didn’t even remember climbing the steps to the porch, or opening the screen door.  He did remember Mara and Earl looking up at him, framed in the arch leading from the entry hall to the living room.  Mara was crying.  Earl was furious, shouting and belligerent.  Dick dealt with Earl as Deuce guided Mara to her oldest boy.  Then hugging, kissing, long moments of silence as the Gradys absorbed the knowledge that the last few months of hell had all been an illusion.  Then Deuce guided everyone to sit, and summary explanations were provided.  Finally Earl, of all people, raised his hand to stop the discussion.  He looked at Ty.  “Son, where’s Zane?  None of you has mentioned him.  Something must be wrong for him to not be here with you,” he finished.  Ty nodded slowly and solemnly, opening his mouth to speak.  But Deuce cut him off.  “I had the same question, Dad.  But it’s bad new this time.”  Ty picked back up, saying “He’s missing.  After he dogged the FBI, CIA, and Marine Corps about me, he disappeared.”  “Disappeared where?” asked Mara.  Ty looked at Dick, who took up the conversation, sharing what little they knew, and the assumption that Zane hadn’t gone willingly.  Mara covered her mouth, the tears starting anew, when she heard about Zane being shot, and the trail running cold.  It warmed Ty to know that his Ma was as upset about Zane’s disappearance as she was elated about his own return.  It didn’t matter if her concern was for Zane himself, or for the fact that Zane was Ty’s partner.  Ty silently stood and went over to hug his Ma.  “Don’t worry, we’ll find him and get him back,” Ty said.  “I just can’t stand it, it’s such a miracle to have you back, but now to hear that Zane is gone.  Do you think he’s –“ Mara started to say, looking up at Ty.  “No.  He’s alive.  He knew I wasn’t dead, and I know he’s not.  I can’t explain it.  I just know,” Ty said.  That silenced everyone in the room.  The only sound was a bottle clinking against glasses as Deuce poured generous amounts of whiskey for everyone.  Even Mara partook.

Azzar was thick and uncut.  He held the base of his shaft as Zane took it in his mouth.  Zane knew what was expected, and he obeyed.  Azzar’s swollen balls, heavy and thick with dark hair, pulled up as he grunted his release into Zane’s mouth.  The cum was thick and salty.  Zane swallowed it all, then pulled off and lowered his head as Azzar fixed his robes and returned to his plush cushion.  The act of submission had been witnessed by the men of Azzar’s family.  Many of them eyed the fit American captive hungrily, wanting to use him as Azzar had.  But they knew they had to wait patiently until Azzar had finished with him.  At a wave of Azzar’s hand, the burly guards yanked on the chain attached to Zane’s metal collar, leading him back to his cell.  That night’s meal was larger and heartier than his usual Spartan fare.  He ate it hungrily.  The next morning he didn’t even remember to try and recalculate the date. 

Chapter 6 – Zane’s Final Demise; Ty Infiltrates the Rescue Mission

Azzar’s compound was being monitored by satellite until local operatives could be mobilized to infiltrate and gather intel.  The FBI and CIA were already coordinating a joint rescue effort, assuming that Zane was being held there.  Ty was frustrated at the seemingly slow progress, but there was not much he could do.  He couldn’t go it alone; he knew full well that it would take more than one man to bust Zane out successfully.  Burns informed him early on that there was no way Ty was going to be allowed to participate in the rescue mission.   Ty had no intention of following that order, but didn’t say so.  Ty’s status with the FBI was somewhat in limbo.  It wasn’t every day that a Special Agent returned from the dead.  Apparently there was paperwork that needed to be filled out, and while Ty waited he worked out and took up running again to try and shed the bulked up look he’d been forced to adopt as a fighter.

Weeks passed.  Zane’s grip on sanity continued to slide.  Azzar went from having Zane suck his cock to fucking him in the ass.  Always witnessed by the same group of men.  His thick shackles had been removed; Azzar no longer needed them to control Zane.  He walked willingly with the guards across the open courtyard each day, up the stairs, and into the opulent room where he was used sexually.  They no longer tortured him; they didn’t need to.  Now, Azzar had Zane sit on the floor next to him for a few hours each day, after being used.  He would run his hand through Zane’s long hair as one would with a pet.  Zane was bathed regularly, his face shaved, his body oiled.  He was becoming Azzar’s plaything.  If he understood Arabic, he would know what was in store for him.  Soon the day would come where he would be videotaped in his position on his hands and knees, taking it up the ass.  His chastity device would then be removed, and he would be ordered to masturbate himself, then bend over and lick up his own semen.  Finally, he would crawl over to where he sat on the floor, naked, beside his captor.  The tape would be sent to the US Embassy, where Azzar knew it would be transmitted to appropriate parties back in the US, as a warning.  Zane would finally be turned over to the men who had, over the course of several months, waited patiently for their turn as they slowly witnessed his transformation into an obedient sex slave. 

Finally things were set in motion to mount the rescue operation.  The operatives on the ground easily confirmed that a Westerner was being kept in Azzar’s compound, kept naked and displayed.  Azzar’s relatives boasted in glowing terms of how Azzar had lured the former FBI agent in, then started a long process of reconditioning him.  They were easily overhead, and Zane’s daily crossing of the compound was surreptitiously recorded.  The CIA took over most of the strategic planning, with the Marine Corps in charge of on-the-ground execution.  The CIA wanted to use Zane’s rescue as a cover to end Azzar’s operation once and for all.  He’d been a thorn in the side of international law enforcement for years, and now they had justification to send an armed team to infiltrate his compound.  If some, or all, of Azzar’s family and his web of operatives happened to die as collateral damage, then all the better.  This was not Azzar’s home; no women and children were present.  Rather, it was where he ran his business empire from, making it an all-male environment.  Hence the pent up desires of Azzar’s uncles, cousins and nephews; most of them weren’t even homosexual, but the idea of getting off while degrading an enemy was too good to pass up.  Azzar himself had several wives and many sons; he was well known as a potent man.  Noone outside his immediate circle would guess how ragingly hard his penis became when he approached the kneeling captive. 

Zane had endured additional humiliating treatments, both to transform him physically as well as continue the deterioration of his mental state.  His entire body had been shaved.  The only hair remaining was his head hair, which was long.  Most days his fit body was oiled, rubbed in deeply by a manservant of Azzar’s.  At one point he’d been visited by a man with painful looking implements; but he remained stoic as both his nipples and his cockhead were pierced with thick gold rings.  If Azzar wished him to appear this way, then he was willing to endure it.  A cockring was cinched tightly around the base of his cock and balls, with a short gold chain connecting it to the cock piercing.  It would cause excruciating pain if the wearer began to achieve erection.  The chastity device was no longer needed.

Choppers transported the Marines and CIA agents under cover of night to a base only a few hours’ flight form Azzar’s compound.  The following night, a couple hours before dawn, they would storm the compound, with a frontal assault at the gates to distract the majority of the guards while two choppers landed in the open courtyard.  One team each would storm the main building, hoping to wipe out Azzar and his relatives before seizing computers and other technology, while the second would move to the low outbuildings where Zane was being kept.

Ty reviewed all the plans in the joint sessions with the CIA and Marines.  Burns was involved, since Zane was his man.  Burns reiterated his direct order that Ty not be involved, since he suspected Ty would find a way to sneak aboard.  Ty looked right into Burns’ eyes and said he would follow orders.  But in the back of his mind, he was already exploiting the loophole.  He hadn’t yet been reinstated as an FBI agent, thus orders didn’t apply to him.  He had enough buddies and pull in the Marine Corps that it was an easy matter to be included in the support group accompanying the mission.  Ty showed up in desert camo, shades on, hair freshly buzzed, cap pulled down over his forehead.  He changed his posture and stride, and adopted a different accent.  Years of UC work had prepared him to become someone else when needed.  The plan was for the support group to remain at the initial base, and handle comms.  Ty planned to slip aboard the choppers heading for Azzar’s compound.

Zane was on his hands and knees, his usual position for being sodomized.  Azzar admired his oiled body, using his delicate slipper to kick Zane’s legs wider.  Zane’s enormous balls swayed a bit as he obeyed.  His cock was trapped as usual, half hard.  Azzar reached down, and ran a finger up Zane’s smooth asscrack, prodding his tight hole.  Zane normally sported a thick dusting of hair on his ass, but Azzar liked him kept smooth.  Azzar’s finger dipped down, entering Zane to the first knuckle.  Azzar looked up, making eye contact with many of his male relatives.  “You have been patient.  My pet’s transformation is complete.  Tomorrow, you will be allowed to sample him to your content,” Azzar promised as he pushed a second finger inside.  Zane lowered his head, knowing what was coming.  A brief rustling of expensive robes, and the thick penetration that Zane had come to expect and even crave filled his ass.  Azzar took his time.  When he was done and beckoned Zane to follow him and sit beside his cushion, Azzar’s thick load was already drying on Zane’s ass and where it had run down onto his balls.

From his spot in the open side bay of the chopper, Ty could watch the firefight already in progress as the gates to Azzar’s compound were stormed.  He could barely make out panicked shouts in Arabic, apparently calling for backup.  Ty grinned, satisfied.  The whole idea was to lure the main force away from Azzar.  And from Zane.  Ty shifted his eyes from the main building over to the low outbuildings just inside the outer wall.  ‘I’m coming for you Babe’ he said to himself.

Ty stood back as the heavily armed Marines poured out of the chopper, the first two touching the ground even before the chopper had fully landed.  The plan was quickly carried out.  Ty jumped to the ground, and followed the second group of Marines, headed for the prison block.  In the background he could see blasts of semiautomatic fire and shouts, mostly in Arabic.  A few cowardly screams pierced the predawn.  Then they shifted to screams of pain as men were shot dead on sight.  This wasn’t your typical CIA operation.  The goal was total annihilation of Azzar’s empire.

The Marines quickly secured the prison block.  Ty heard three quick shots as he entered the doorless opening.  Inside, the Marines had already set up a secure perimeter.  He approached the fresh faced young Marine guarding the way back to the cells.  The kid raised his arm, trying to block Ty’s way.  “You can’t go in there,” the kid said.  Ty gave a tight grin but approached the kid, getting in his space.

Chapter 7 – Rescue

Zane was backed into a corner.  The men in desert camos stared at him, mouths open in shock.  His hair was long but clean.  His face and body were shaved, completely, even his groin.  His skin was tan, glistening with oil.  Both nipples were pierced, with thick gold rings dangling from them.  Similarly, his cockhead had a thick gold piercing, connected with a delicate gold chain to an inch thick gold ring secured at the base of his cock and balls.  The short length of the chain kept his half hard cock from standing up straight.  Zane was panicked, almost hyperventilating.  One hand was up, as if to ward off the intruders.  The other he used to try and shield his nudity.  His eyes darted back and forth between the burly guards, face down and shot dead, and the very alive men surrounding him, heavily armed.

The leader of the Marines waved his men back.  The name sewn on his uniform said, “Britt.”  The other Marines retreated a few steps.  Britt came a bit closer, spread his hands at his sides, and said softly, “Hey, it’s ok.  We won’t hurt you.  We’re here to rescue you.  You’re Garrett, right?  The FBI agent?”  He could tell Zane recognized that name, even though he gave a slight shake of his head ‘no’.  After a quick glance back towards his men, Britt went and sat on the cot in the prison cell.  “Come sit next to me,” Britt said.  Zane hesitated; but he was used to following the orders of powerful men, so after a moment he obeyed, but he sat on the cold stone floor, next to Britt’s knee, instead of on the cot.  Zane’s legs spread wide, his cock and balls dangling between them.  The Marines tried not to stare.  One of them gave the ‘crazy’ signal by moving his finger in a circle next to his head.  “That’s good, Garrett,” Britt said.  “Do you want to go home with us?” he continued. 

Before he could answer, there was a scuffle at the end of the corridor, out of sight from Zane’s cell.  “You can’t go in there,” one voice said, loudly.  “Bullshit, I’m coming through, and I’ll take you down if I have to, asswipe,” another, somewhat familiar voice stated firmly.  There were sounds of a scuffle.  “Staff Sergeant, I can’t let you enter.  I have specific orders to contain this area.  If you don’t desist, I’ll be forced to use my – “ the first voice said.  There were sounds of a brief struggle, then the second voice came back strong and sarcastic, “What, you’ll use your weapon to stop me?  What, this gun?  THIS ONE?  HUH?  THE ONE I JUST TOOK FROM YOU?”  There were more shouts, then the sound of a fist striking flesh, followed by quick booted footsteps coming down the corridor.  A man came into view.  He was dressed the same as the other Marines.  He came to a stop in front of the cell, holding onto the bars.  “Oh god,” he said.

Zane looked up at the man.  Instinctively he moved closer to Britt, gripping the man’s sturdy leg. 

“Grady, you’re not supposed to be here,” Britt said.  Ty’s eyes flicked to Britt as he entered the cell, stepping over the bodies of the guards.  “I know,” Ty said, as he stopped a few feet in front of Zane and knelt down.  “I could have my men remove you,” Britt said.  Zane was visibly shaking.  “What?” Ty said, somewhat distracted.  “Yeah, remove your men, thanks man,” Ty said.  Britt’s eyes moved from Ty up to his men.  “One of you go get a blanket for Garrett.  The rest of you, secure the perimeter.  And make sure Tyson hasn’t shit his pants from having his weapon taken.”  As Britt moved past Ty, Ty handed him Tyson’s gun.  Ty took a quick glance up to Britt.  ‘Thank you’, he mouthed.  Britt gave a tight nod and left the two men alone.  He had an appointment with Azzar.

Ty turned his focus on Zane, who had pulled his knees up to his chest.  “Zane?  It’s me.  Ty.  Um, your partner?  Do you know me?”  The anguish in Ty’s voice was palpable.  Zane gave the slightest of nods.  He reached a hand out to Ty.  At first Ty reached out his hand, to make contact.  But Zane pulled his hand back.  “Knife,” Zane said.  Ty hesitated.  “Um, I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Ty started to say.  “KNIFE!” Zane shouted.  Ty saw something in Zane’s eyes that made him comply.  He handed over his knife, praying Zane wasn’t so far gone that he planned to hurt himself.  Ty figured he could stop him in time, if that was the case.  Ty’s mouth broke out into a small grin as Zane grabbed handfuls of his long hair and started hacking it off, throwing it away in disgust.  When he was done, he tugged on one of his nipple rings, isolating it from his relaxed pec, and started sawing through it.  His hands were shaky, so Ty scooted closer.  “Hey, let me help you with that,” he said. 

Ty slowly sawed through the nipple rings, as Zane clung to him.  After a few moments, Ty realized Zane was silently sobbing.  Next Ty cut the gold chain on Zane’s cock, then went to work on the cock piercing.  When that was out, Ty prodded Zane’s smooth balls, examining the thick cock ring.  “I think that one will have to wait until we have the right tools,” Ty said.  By this point Zane had regained come control over his body, and was leaning back against the cot.  Ty scooted and sat on the floor next to him.  “How long?” Zane asked.  “You – you’ve been here 7 months,” Ty answered.  Zane stared off into space.  “Lost track,” Zane said.  One of Britt’s men came in and draped a blanket over Zane.  Zane pulled it around his chest, covering most of his nudity.  “Ty?” Zane started, stronger this time.  Ty turned to look at his lover.  “Yeah?” he said.  “Why?” was Zane’s one word question.  Ty shook his head and looked forward again.  “We don’t know.  At least not yet,” Ty finished.  “Azzar?”  “Dead.”  Zane just nodded slightly. 

Finally Zane connected a few more dots.  “You’re alive,” Zane said.  Ty chuckled.  “Yeah, looks like it,” Ty said.  “How?” Zane asked.  “Long story.  We need to get you out of here, then I’ll tell you everything.  I bet the final cleanup is almost done, so we should head to the chopper,” Ty prompted.  Ty stood and offered his hand to Zane, who stood and let himself be led.  Tyson gave Ty the stink eye as they exited the prison block.  Ty didn’t respond.  Soon Zane was settled in the back of the chopper, with as much privacy as was possible.  Ty sat next to him, his arm draped over Zane’s shoulder.  Their heads were close together, talking softly.  Ty was still worried that most of Zane’s sentences were a single word.  The FBI shrinks will have a field day with this, Ty thought.  But only after Ty holed up with Zane for a while, where no one could reach them.  Dawn was spreading as the chopper left the scene, the smoking ruin of Azzar’s compound behind them.  Azzar himself had had a semiautomatic shoved up his ass before getting a spray of bullets through his innards.  “That’ll teach you, fucker,” Britt had said.

Halfway back to the base, Zane uttered the sentence Ty had been dreading.  “He raped me.”  Ty nodded, slowly.  He had suspected as much.  “We’ll get through it, babe.  We’ll work hard to get back to the way things were before.  Back to normal,” Ty said, trying to comfort Zane.  Zane looked up directly into Ty’s eyes.  They were only a couple inches apart.  It was obvious to Ty that Zane doubted things would ever be the same.  “I love you,” Zane said.  Ty wrapped him up in a tight embrace.  The Marines in the chopper looked away.  Zane returned the embrace.  And damn if his cock wasn’t stirring.  Maybe things would be all right after all. 

Chapter 8 – Back to Normal?

Zane’s mental recovery was faster and more complete than even the FBI shrinks had anticipated.  Either that, or the man was a master of subterfuge.  Probably a bit of both.  After an initial physical examination, Zane had been decomped.  They had intended to keep him under surveillance at Walter Reed around the clock, but they hadn’t planned on his absolute refusal to cooperate unless he was allowed to go home at the end of each day to be with Ty up in Baltimore.  Based on what had happened to Zane after he exposed the Marine Corps’ and CIA’s coverup of Ty’s disastrous mission, they figured they better do as Zane said.  So Zane was able to sleep in Ty’s arms each night, and recount the details of his capture and abuse each day.  Important details of Azzar’s operations were uncovered and acted upon.  He avoided mentioning Master Krieger, although Eklund’s report obviously documented what had happened there.  Krieger’s house had remained under observation after Zane’s abduction, with Logan’s regular visits recorded.  After a while, they lost interest in a hot young piece of ass getting his rocks off through dominance and submission.  Law enforcement, and now the military also, genuinely had little interest in the sexual orientation of their members.  So sleeping dogs were left to lie.

Ironically Ty’s papers finally cleared him for return to the Baltimore FBI field office not long after he returned to the US.  Turns out being alive meant they wanted you to show up for work.  Zane was still trekking down to Walter Reed every day, but in a way they both welcomed the normalcy of routine.  One night, after Zane had been given preliminary clearance to return to work the following week, Zane sat down in the living room of the row house.  He patted the couch next to him, looking up at Ty.  Ty sat obediently.  “What is it, babe?” Ty asked.  “I need you to meet someone,” Zane began.  “We haven’t really talked about when I thought…  when I thought you weren’t coming back…” Zane continued.  He trailed off, grasping Ty’s hand and looking him in the eyes.  “I uh, I was a bit lost, and sought out a way of dealing with everything,” Zane finished.  Ty’s eyes were wide.  “Did you…  did you drink?” he asked.  “No.  Nothing like that.  But I don’t know if what I did do was worse,” Zane replied.  Ty nodded, digesting the fact that Zane had stayed sober.  “So, what then?  Was it something destructive?  Or whoring around like you did in Miami?” Ty said, trying for a bit of levity.  “Because I wouldn’t blame you at all, thinking I was dead and all – “ Ty continued, but Zane cut him off by shaking his head.  “I didn’t whore around.  But you could call it destructive, in a way,” Zane said.  Ty turned on the couch to face Zane.  “Baby, why don’t you just tell me?” he asked.  Zane nodded, agreeing that was probably best.  “I met up with a leather bondage Master,” Zane said.  Ty just nodded, wanting him to go on.  “And after initially submitting for some rough sessions, I became his slave, his property,” Zane finished.  “Wow.  Wasn’t expecting that,” Ty said.  After a moment he continued, “You must have been lost, and needing something,” Ty said.  Zane gave a small, tight smile.  “Try and understand where I was, how I was struggling,” Zane begged.  Ty started out with the words Zane wanted to hear.  “I forgive you.  For anything and everything.  We can get into the details later, but are you still wanting what this guy did to you?”  Zane shook his head.  “No.  You’re all I need.  I know you liked it the times I tied you up and worked you over, forced you to obey, and all that,” Zane said.  Ty nodded in agreement.  It had all been fun sex games, but this sounded more serious.  Zane picked up the story.  “He gave me what I needed at the time.  He was…  he was really caring and mindful of taking care of me, even as he hurt me and used me.  I grew to really respect him and need him.  But not anymore,” Zane said.  “How did he ‘use’ you,” Ty asked.  Zane wasn’t going to lie.  “Sexually,” he clarified.  “But for closure, I think you should meet him as I thank him for what he did for me, and ask him to release me and part as friends,” Zane said.  “Of course, Zane,” Ty said, but his mind was reeling.  He and Zane had dabbled in the rough dominance and submission scene, both at home and on a few undercover assignments.  But this sounded more serious, and it had taken place without Ty’s presence.  Ty’s head was imagining all sorts of scenarios of what this dom had done to Zane.  But Zane seemed to be dealing with it pretty well, and wanting to formally end it, so that was positive.  “Can we go talk to him now?” Ty asked, always wanting to deal with things right away.  “I don’t know, but let’s find out,” Zane said.  Still holding Ty’s hand, Zane used his free hand to dial Master Krieger.  His hand shook.  It had been months.

“Zane,” Krieger said, after picking up on the second ring.  “Logan said you were back.  All you all right?”  It was heartening to know that Zane’s welfare was Krieger’s primary concern.  “Yes, I’m fine…  or will be, I guess.  Did Logan share any of my ordeal with you?” Zane asked.  “No.  I figured that was up to you to contact me.  I suppose I could have beaten it out of him,” Krieger said.  “Is uh…  do you still have him collared?” Zane asked.  “Yes.  But he’s still more of a beta.  I don’t suppose you’re looking to return to your spot as alpha?” Krieger asked.  “No, Sir,” Zane said, causing Ty’s head to jerk up.  “But that’s why I’m calling.  My partner, the one I said was dead?  Well long story, but he’s sitting here beside me.  I’d like you to meet him,” Zane finished.  “Zane!  That’s wonderful!  Such good news.  Of course I want to meet him.  I imagine you’re calling to gain some closure.  I hope I helped you when you needed it, and I hope we can be friends.  Both you and your partner.  What was his name again?” Krieger asked.  “Ty.  Tyler Grady.  When are you free, Sir?” Zane asked.  “Come over now, son,” Krieger said.  “Will do,” Zane said, hanging up.  Krieger smiled on his end as he ended the call.  He missed ordering Zane to assume his usual position.  What a body on Zane Garrett…  and his endurance, and his cock, and his tight ass, Krieger thought to himself wistfully.  Still, he had the firm young flesh of Logan to satisfy his needs.  Too bad Logan wasn’t there that evening.  It would have been fun to have him stripped naked, caged and gagged, as he entertained Zane and his partner upstairs.

Half an hour later, Zane and Ty stood at Krieger’s front door.  The door was opened, and Zane pulled into a tight, long hug, which he returned after only a split second of hesitation.  Ty tried not to pull the guy’s arms off of Zane.  Krieger broke the hug and proffered his hand to Ty.  “You must be Grady.  Zane spoke so highly of you.  Please come in, both of you,” Krieger said.  Ty went along, grumbling under his breath.  Leave it to the guy to be a decent person.  Of course Zane would pick someone like that, impossible to hate.  He tried to picture Zane stripped and tied, taking it up the ass from this guy.  But dammit, he knew this Krieger fellow would have given Zane what he needed.  Ty had been on the receiving end of that sort of thing often enough to know the difference.  Soon they were seated in Krieger’s living room, with Ty and Krieger sipping whiskey while Zane nursed his water.  Of course the guy drank top drawer.

Ty’s eyes roamed around the room, then over Krieger himself, as Zane summarized the past few months.  Ty could see why Zane had sought control from this man.  He was quietly confident, masculine, fit with a few extra pounds, but comfortable in his skin.  Occasionally Ty caught Krieger looking him over as well.  Of course the guy was curious about Zane’s partner.  Or was it more than that.  Ty’s cock stiffened in his jeans.  Dammit, Ty thought.  After Zane finished recounting his story, Krieger addressed Ty.  “So, Grady, do you have any questions I can answer for you?  I want everything out in the open,” Krieger offered.  Ty had overhead Zane formally request to be released, and Krieger agree to release him.  So it seemed to be all over.  Ty surprised even himself when he stood and said, “I need to see your playspace.  I don’t think I can digest all this until I see where it happened,” Ty requested.  Krieger blinked.  “Of course, my boy.  I assume you want to see it alone?” Krieger asked, knowingly.  Ty nodded, looking over at Zane for confirmation.  “Whatever you need to do for us to move forward, Ty,” Zane said.  Krieger led Ty out of the room and down the stairs.  Zane heard Krieger unlock the basement door and flip the lights on.  Then he heard the door close and lock.

Ty’s eyes drank in the well equipped playspace.  He moved to the center, under the spotlight, eyeing the manacles dangling on chains from above.  He turned to face Krieger, the muscles of his chest flexing.  “Did you make him scream?” Ty asked.  “Yes.  Repeatedly, although it wasn’t easy.  He’s tough, as I’m sure you know,” Krieger said.  Ty just nodded, moving to the wall where the implements of torture hung.  “Did you fuck him?” Ty asked.  “Yes,” Krieger answered again.  “Although not at first,” he added.  Krieger stepped forward, spotting the sizable bulge in Ty’s jeans.  “The young rookie agent fucked him too.  On my orders,” Krieger said.  Ty closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.  Krieger moved up to face him.  Ty flinched when he felt Krieger’s hand on his shoulder.  His eyes flew open, but he remained silent.  “I can see your need, son.  We both know you’ll be hanging here yourself soon, stripped naked,” Krieger whispered.  “Yes, Sir,” Ty said.  “But the kid can’t be a part of it.  And Zane can’t know,” Ty added.  “Still dealing with what happened to you, Marine?” Krieger asked.  “Yes, Master,” Ty added.  Krieger reached around to Ty’s ass and fished his cell phone out of his pocket.  He tapped out his contact information then replaced the phone, feeling up Ty’s muscled butt.  “Ball’s in your court, Marine.  I won’t come between a couple, but I’m expert at giving tough customers what they need.  I did it for Zane, I can do it for you,” he finished.  “Thank you, Sir,” Ty said.  The urge to obey and follow orders was strong.  Sweat was running down Ty’s back.  “It may be a bit before I contact you,” Ty said.  Krieger nodded in acknowledgement.  “I need to get back upstairs,” Ty continued.  “Of course.  We’ll say our goodbyes and I’ll see you out, Ty,” Krieger said.  Minutes later, Ty and Zane were headed back to the row house.  “You see what you needed to down there?” Zane asked.  “Yeah.  That was quite the playspace,” Ty said.  “He use all that stuff on you babe?” Ty asked.  “Certainly most of it, I suppose.  I mostly just showed up and got on my knees and let Krieger take control of the situation.  He used me however he wanted to.  I grew to crave it.  But it was filling a void that you left when I thought you were gone,” Zane explained.  “I get it, Zane.  Trust me, I understand.”  They locked hands.  “Let’s just go home and you can fuck me into the mattress,” Ty offered.  “Now you’re talking,” Zane chuckled as he sped up.  Things seemed to be back to normal.  Now that he had told Ty about his time as Krieger’s sub, and getting closure from Krieger himself, certainly nothing could interrupt their hard earned peace and quiet, Zane thought to himself.

Zane put a load of cum up Ty’s ass that night.  Both slept soundly.  Zane only had two more days of evaluation down at Walter Reed, then on Monday he would join Ty back at work in the Baltimore field office. 

The next day, Ty sat at his desk.  After giving the rest of the team an update on Zane’s imminent return, he fidgeted as he thought about his reaction to seeing Krieger’s playspace.  His cock stiffened painfully.  He was looking over at Zane’s empty desk as he reached for his phone.  He stood, walking towards the conference room.  He passed Logan’s desk as he went; the kid raised his head and gave Ty a brief nod and smile.  Ty ignored him as he closed the door to the conference room.  It wasn’t unheard of for agents to briefly use a conference room to make a personal call.  Soon Ty was seated in one of the chairs, his back to the interior windows.  He placed the call.  It was answered.  His legs were spread, and he was rubbing himself as he began to memorize the rules of submission as Master Krieger outlined them for him.  Krieger had been a bit surprised to hear from Ty so soon.  Ty confirmed that he may not be able to submit in person for a bit, but clarified that he desired the mental control that he knew Krieger would utilize right away.  Krieger started in immediately, beginning with the basics.  He described the position that Ty was to assume each time he submitted himself.  Naked, kneeling, hands on head, preferably with an erection.  He asked Ty’s limits.  Ty responded by saying, “None.  Sir.”  “Good man,” Krieger said.  “I don’t do condoms,” Krieger continued.  “I barebacked Zane, and I’ll bareback you.  I’m clean and I know you are.  You’ll suck and swallow, and thank me for it.  I’ll do my best to not leave any marks that won’t fade before Zane might see them on you.  But I know you’re tough and it’ll take a lot to get you into subspace,” Krieger said.  “Yes, Master,” Ty said under his breath, ghosting his fingers over his hardon, trapped in his slacks.  He looked down and could see a spot of precum soaking through.  “Are you hard?” Krieger asked.  “Yes Master,” Ty replied.  “Can you take it out and stroke it, son?” Krieger asked.  “No Sir, I’m at the office,” Ty said.  “Very well.  Here are your orders.  Later, go into the restroom, and into a stall, lock the door, open your shirt and expose your chest.  Then take your cock out and masturbate yourself.  Cum on your pecs and belly.  Take a pic of it on your cell phone and send it to me.  Then clean yourself up.  Understood, slave?” Krieger finished.  “Oh god…  yes Sir,” Ty said.  “Dismissed, son.  You have your orders,” Krieger finished, hanging up.  Ty nodded absently, ending the call.  He had trouble focusing all afternoon.  Finally just before he was due to leave for the day, he carried out Master Krieger’s orders.  He shot a load all the way up his chest; gobs of it clung to his pecs and abs as he snapped the picture and sent it off.  Then he wiped himself off and buttoned his shirt.  He was distracted and forgot to delete the picture after sending it.  Ty returned to his desk, flushed and sweaty.  “You ok, Grady?” Alston asked.  “Bite me, Scott,” Ty responded half heartedly.  Alston rolled his eyes.  “Can’t wait for Garrett to be back, so you can focus your abuse on him instead of the rest of us.”  “Sorry,” Ty mumbled, gathering up his briefcase and leaving for the day.  Logan passed him as Ty walked briskly out of the office.  He was surprised to see a wet spot marking Ty’s crotch, even though Ty was obviously trying to hide it behind his briefcase, held awkwardly in front of him.  And damn if he didn’t catch the smell of spunk as Ty passed.  What the hell, Logan thought to himself.  Why would Grady be jerking off at work, with Garrett back.  Logan had first hand knowledge of how it felt to have his way with Garrett as a sexual object; if he had that waiting at home, he’d never touch himself.  Which brought Logan back to thinking about his role as Master Krieger’s sub.  Master Krieger had been immensely pleased and relieved when Logan informed him that Zane had been recovered alive.  They both knew it was unlikely that Zane would continue his role as beta slave, both with Ty back in the picture and considering what Zane had been through.  Still, Logan missed the excitement of the early days of being enslaved beside his mentor and hero.  Ironically, during their mutual submission Logan’s cock had been up inside Zane more than the other way around.  Logan had loved how full and satisfied he felt with Zane’s thickness filling him up.  Now Ty was getting to enjoy that.  He knew that Ty and Zane went both ways, but Logan still couldn’t help but wonder who was doing who on any given day.  Zane certainly didn’t give off any clues; and Ty was such a wild card that you never knew if he was playing the butch topman or the aggressive bottom boy.  Logan gathered up his own things to leave for the day.  He was due to be naked and kneeling at Master Krieger’s in an hour.  His own cock stiffened at the thought.  His ass was twitching to be filled.  He hoped Krieger was up for it tonight.

Logan got what he wanted.  A rough fuck after a lengthy session of abuse.  He slept soundly, just in his white jockstrap, in Master Krieger’s bed, held in his arms.  He knew he would start the next day by sucking and swallowing his Master.  Across town, Ty made gentle love to Zane for the first time since his return.  Zane was on his back, Ty holding his legs spread wide.  Ty went slow, being careful not to hurt Zane.  But by the look on Zane’s face, it was all pleasure.  Both Krieger and Azzar had fucked Zane, many times.  Not to mention that damn kid, Logan.  Ty put that out of his mind as he reclaimed his partner.  Zane had had plenty of time to heal up, and deal with the mental aspects as well.  Ty looked up Zane’s amazingly defined abdominals and pecs to see that Zane was looking at him intently.  Zane blinked.  Twin wet tracks trailed down his face as tears escaped.  “I love you Ty.  Never a day went by that I didn’t think of you,” Zane gasped.  Ty bottomed out inside his lover’s ass, his balls hitting Zane.  “Me too, babe.  I can’t believe we’re really both back here.  Where we belong,” Ty said, looking down meaningfully at his thick cock, filling Zane completely.  Ty glanced down and realized Zane was fully hard, his cock twitching.  Zane was gasping.  He grunted once, twice, then shot off all over his torso, without even touching his cock.  His assring clenched around Ty, milking a load from it.  Zane moaned again as the warm gushes filled him.  Ty pulled out, and the two embraced.  Without cleaning up, they fell asleep together, Zane’s face still wet as he buried it in Ty’s chest.  Zane fell asleep right away, but Ty lay awake, thinking how lucky he was to be here with the man he loved.  What the fuck am I doing even thinking about hooking up with Krieger, he thought to himself.  I’m calling him tomorrow and ending it.  Having made his decision, he kissed Zane’s thick hair.  Zane stirred but didn’t wake.  Ty relaxed, and fell asleep holding Zane loosely in his arms, the smell of drying cum covering both of them.

Chapter 9 – Coast to Coast

Ty spread his legs and used the towel to dry under his balls and up his ass.  Zane lazed in the bed, watching his lover’s naked body.  “Lazy bum,” Ty teased.  “Hey I don’t have to go back in until Monday, so I’m going to enjoy my time off and relax,” Zane replied.  “Ok honey, that’s fine, but I expect a nice home cooked dinner on the table when I get home,” Ty said.  “In your dreams,” Zane shot back.  “And you have to greet me at the door in your apron, with a martini in your hand,” Ty continued, completely ignoring Zane.  “Count on it,” Zane said sarcastically.  Ty had his slacks on but was still bare to the waist as he put on his deodorant.  He was smooth from the waist up, including his pits.  Ty had submitted to being fully shaved by Zane as part of their recent sex play.  He didn’t really want to, but he would do anything to help Zane’s mental recovery, and if some taunting about his manscaping in the field office locker room was the price he had to pay, then he’d gladly submit.  Zane loved how Ty looked shaved.  It showed off the definition better in his muscles.  Ty didn’t have enough body hair to be truly hairy, so he looked better smooth.  Plus his nipples became more sensitive after Zane carefully trimmed around them.  Zane had raised Ty’s legs and fucked him after shaving his balls and taint, putting a load up inside him as Ty jerked himself.  They both loved how easy their lovemaking was since their return.  Finally Ty was buttoned up and had his tie on, bending down to give Zane a kiss before heading to work.

Zane bought groceries then cooked up a storm.  He was only mildly embarrassed at the frilly apron he bought.  He set the table and lit candles.  By 5pm, he was ready.  Ty’s eyes were wide and shocked when he walked through the front door that Zane held open for him.  Zane had been watching through the front window.  Zane’s pecs extended beyond the edge of the top of the apron; Zane was built broad, and the muscled edge of his pecs and his nipples were plainly visible, as were his broad shoulders and hairy pits.  Ty was almost too stunned to accept the Mike’s Hard Lemonade that Zane handed him.  “I would have actually made a martini for you,” Zane said, “but I know you like this better.”  Ty took a swig and closed the door, as Zane turned and walked to the kitchen island.  Ty followed slowly, his eyes glued to Zane’s bare butt hanging out the back of the apron.  Hairy cheeks, thickly furred at the crack.  Ty wondered how long it would be before he got to slide his cock up in there again, since Zane seemed to be locked in dom mode lately.  Although the apron was a bit off-putting, compared to the leather harness, chaps and boots that Zane wore the last time he fucked Ty in the basement.  They both knew the basement was much more sound proof, lined with brick.  Ty about lost it when Zane bent over to take the roast out of the oven.  “Jesus, Zane.  I’m gonna do you right here if you don’t stop wiggling that thing at me,” Ty said, taking another slug of his drink.  “Go for it,” Zane said, setting the hot pan down.  Zane heard Ty unzip.  Ty pushed Zane face down over the island.  “Spread,” Ty ordered.  Zane complied, reaching back and exposing his ass.  His tight hole glistened.  Ty prodded it with his cockhead.  “Shit you lubed yourself already,” Ty accused.  “Want you in me, babe,” Zane said.  Ty complied, slipping in easily.  “You stretched yourself too,” Ty said, starting up his rhythm.  “Yeah,” Zane said, hardly able to speak at the thick intrusion filling him.  Ty didn’t miss a beat thrusting into Zane as he untied the apron strings, pulled it off over Zane’s head, and tossed it towards the trash.  He missed.

They enjoyed a leisurely, wonderful meal.  Both had changed into jeans and tshirts.  Neither man had showered however; Ty was still sweaty from the intense, quick fuck; and Zane still had Ty’s load drying on his taint and balls.  They would use the manly smell to get aroused later in bed.  “So why the ass wiggling tonight?  Last night you were all whips and chains.  I couldn’t sit down for the entire morning,” Ty asked.  “Do you prefer one over the other,” Zane asked, not answering Ty’s question.  “Ah, dammit Zane,” Ty said, putting down his second Mike’s.  “I think we’re both trying too hard to give the other one what he wants.  We should just relax and do what comes natural, ok?” Ty said.  Zane sighed a bit.  “Yeah, I…  I guess I’m trying to make up for lost time,” he said, “and to re-establish the sexual connection.”  Ty eyed Zane, thinking.  “You’re trying to shake off the hold that Krieger had over you,” he said, not accusingly, just stating a fact.  Zane didn’t look away.  “Maybe.  You know I’ve done the whips and chains thing before, down in Miami.  But mostly as the dom,” Zane said.  “Mostly?” Ty asked.  “Let’s not go there right now, ok?  It’s in the past.  We need to be good, now, just the two of us,” Zane said.  Ty just nodded, for him to continue.  “Did you like coming home and finding me in leathers?  And the note I left, ordering you down to the basement naked?” Zane asked.  “Sure,” Ty said, “you saw how hard my dick was.”  “Did you like being restrained and worked over?” Zane continued.  “Less, but yeah…  mostly because I knew it got your dick hard,”  Ty said.  Before Zane could ask the next question, Ty continued, “But the feeling of being helpless while you did me; that was amazing.  I was really pulling on the restraints,” Ty finished.  Zane nodded, remembering.  His own cock, buried in Ty’s ass at the time, had throbbed and swelled as Ty struggled, his muscles tensing, the sweat pouring off him.  He had unloaded a huge load into Ty, his most powerful orgasm since before Ty had left on his mission.  So much spunk was deposited up Ty’s ass that it was already leaking out before Zane pulled out.  “And tonight?” Zane started, “aside from the silly apron, did you like coming home and seeing me offer up my ass?”  “Zane.  Your body turns me on no matter what,” Ty said.  Still, Zane perhaps felt that Ty’s cock had been more stiff the night before, when Zane milked him at the end of their session, than it had been tonight, doing Zane over the counter.  “You’re overthinking again,” Ty said, interrupting Zane’s thoughts.  Zane rubbed his face.  “You’re right.  I’m good.  We’re good,” he finished, getting up and starting to clear the table.  Ty got up to help, the housewife fantasy long since played out.  Talk about overthinking, Ty said to himself.  His face flushed a bit as he went over today’s phone call in his head.  He had called Krieger to call things off.  But the man addressed his concerns and turned it all around and really made Ty think, to the point that he ended the call with a ‘Sir’ and ten minutes later was in the men’s room taking a picture of his own bare ass to send to Krieger as a mark of his ongoing submission, if only mentally at this point.  This really has to stop, Ty thought as he cleaned the dirty dishes, I owe it to Zane, and to us.  Or, he kept on, do I need a bit of this on the side to get my head on straight.  Ty had barely gone through any mental health counseling and evals after his return; the FBI and Marines had been more intent on gathering information that would allow them to cover their asses.  And Ty had been willing to play along, as long as in exchange he was allowed to accompany the rescue mission.  Ah, you’re just rationalizing, Ty said to himself, again convinced he was going to cut it off with Krieger.  “Hey,” Zane said quietly, touching Ty’s arm.  Ty jumped and dropped the plate he’d been rinsing.  It fell to the floor, shattering.  Zane looked down, then back up at Ty.  Ty immediately stammered and moved to get the dustpan, but Zane grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him face to face.  Zane’s brows were knit, not in anger but concern and frustration.  “Where were you?  I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes.”  Ty relaxed, and rested his arms on the edge of the counter.  Zane turned the water off.  “I’m sorry babe,” Ty started, looking down.  “You just got me thinking, with all your questions about our sex life.”  Ty looked back up at Zane and continued, “I just things to be great between us.  Like before.”  Zane pulled Ty into a gentle hug.  “We’re getting there.  Making progress.  Quit worrying,” Zane said, comfortingly.  Ty hated himself, for lying to Zane about what had been on his mind.  Zane nudged Ty away from the sink.  “Go sit and relax, I’ll finish up here.  Then I’ll put the apron back on if you want,” Zane said.  “No apron,” Ty said.  That night in bed, Ty sucked Zane and swallowed, which he almost never did.  It was a tactical mistake, since Zane now knew that Ty had something on his mind that he wasn’t sharing.

The hugs and greetings waiting for Zane at the Baltimore Field Office were barely over when McCoy called Zane into his office.  He was stepping back into his position as Assistant Special Agent in Charge, and McCoy had a big task for him to take on.  Zane was fit and clean cut, with a short neat haircut, wearing a finely tailored suit that showed off his impressive build and good looks.  McCoy spotted perhaps a bit more grey in Zane’s thick dark hair.  As always, McCoy was amazed at how well Zane could pull off any look; it’s part of what made him a good undercover agent.  But it was Zane’s mental acumen that he needed for this task.  Zane seemed fully recovered, mentally and physically.  “You look good, Garrett,” McCoy said.  “Thank you sir.  I’m looking forward to things getting back to normal,” Zane replied.  “Well you’d probably enjoy some boring paperwork, but I have something for you that I think you’ll enjoy.  You get to use your brain on this one,” McCoy said.  “Sounds great,” Zane said, reaching for the file that McCoy was proffering.  Zane skimmed the contents.  He was being asked to pull together a training exercise for new ASAICs from all over the country, to be hosted at an upcoming FBI conference in San Francisco.  While he hated being separated from Ty, he had a strong desire to prove to himself and his superiors that he could be a valuable resource for the Bureau.  He smelled Burns behind him being put in charge.  He closed the file, stood and nodded to McCoy as he shook his hand.  “I’m on it,” Zane said.  He had the training exercise roughed out, locations scouted online, and plane tickets booked by the end of the day.  He uploaded the scenario that would be used for the exercise as Ty packed up his briefcase.  Ty waited patiently for Zane to wrap up.  On the ride home Zane broke the news to Ty that in three weeks, he’d be gone for most of a week.  That night, Zane gave it up to Ty, rolling face down and offering up his ass. 

After landing in San Francisco and settling into his hotel room, Zane goes over the rules of engagement for the training exercise with the nearly one hundred participants from a dozen teams around the country.  The teams are all armed, with firearms loaded with rubber bullets.  Any combatant who was ‘shot’ was obliged to play dead and were eliminated from the exercise.  Zane writes the scenario, shares the facts, and gives each team of 8-10 men 1 'easter egg' which they can use however they want.  The main scenario is to take down a local marijuana dealer who's been operating on the fringes of the mafia; the mafia is interested in shutting him down, so the clues the FBI teams are given are a mix of crime syndicate involvement and local cops' records of the pot dealer.  There are 7 teams vying to 'win' the exercise, they have to decipher the clues and neutralize the pot dealer, with bonus points if they also impact the drug lord who also wants the local dealer shut down.

Zane personally is manning the command center, acting as FBI HQ.  He takes in status reports, shares info across teams, gives direction, and offers advice, but without giving anyone the answers.  He's operating out of an office building that the FBI leases, with minimal security.  He's also playing the role of the bad guys, putting sightings and clues out there for the teams to chase down.  Zane is smart enough to know that lots of things can go wrong, so he automates the sightings and clues to be triggered either by time elapsing, or by various events that the teams report in as having accomplished.  

Zane wasn't at all surprised that HQ was compromised; indeed one of the Easter Eggs clearly asked "what is the location of FBI HQ?"  But he was very surprised that less than an hour into the 24 hour exercise, that he felt a hand on his shoulder, a gun jabbed into his lower back, and a voice saying, "Hands up where I can see them."  Of course he complied; he was bound by the same rules as the teams.  He stood up, just having finished initiating all the system commands for the exercise, and raised his arms.  "Spread your legs," the voice continued, gun still poking him in the lower back.  Again Zane did as he was told.  The man with the gun stood back, and an accomplice quickly patted Zane down.  "He's clean," came the answer.  The first voice replied, with a hint of smugness, "Can't be too sure with these exercises.  Execute a full strip search on our guest here.  Turn around, Special Agent Garrett."  Zane saw three men.  He had met them during the previous several days' training sessions, and thought he recognized them as part of the San Diego team, who had chosen the name 'Bolts' in honor of the San Diego Chargers.  Most of the other teams called them the 'Dolts' behind their back, but Zane certainly gave them credit for making the first, bold move of the exercise.  They had split up, these three neutralizing HQ while the balance were working the streets.  These had to be the guys who had asked for the location of HQ.  The ASAIC from San Diego gestured casually with his gun, which was loaded with rubber bullets, as were all the firearms on the exercise.  "You heard me, Garrett.  And I'm within the rules of engagement here. So, strip down for us.  Show us what you’re packing."

The first blow of Krieger’s belt landed on Ty’s bare buttocks.  The belt was still warm from his body.  Ty grunted, calling out.  His cock was fully erect, leaking.  He was stripped naked, arms tied to manacles overhead, legs secured to a spreader bar.  His balls were tied off and weighted, and his tits clamped.  I wonder if Zane was secured exactly like this, Ty thought to himself.  Krieger hadn’t gagged him, explaining that for an initial scene he wanted the sub to be able to communicate clearly and easily.  He grunted again as the next stinging blow landed on his ass.  After his butt was striped bright red, Krieger put down the belt and picked up a flogger, starting in on Ty’s back.

Ty was easily led to subspace.  Krieger was clearly an expert dom.  Ty dealt with the guilt as he took the abuse.  He had kept in touch with Krieger on the phone and through texts, following his orders and addressing him as Sir or Master.  After a few weeks back at work, Zane had been sent to the West Coast for a training exercise for new ASAICs.  He was thriving in the position and wanted to prove himself worthy of the promotion, so he threw himself into the prep work.  That didn’t leave much time for sex, which didn’t help Ty’s ability to resist the lure of contacting Krieger for an initial real time session.

“Doing all right, son?” Krieger asked, running his hand down Ty’s sweaty back.  “Yes Sir,” Ty replied, as Krieger’s hand slipped down his asscrack, prodding his tight hole before reaching under him to jiggle his aching balls.  “Good man,” Krieger said, coming around front.  Ty’s eyes followed him.  Krieger quickly, expertly removed the clamps.  Before Ty was done hissing at the pain, Krieger was already landing the first few strokes of the flogger on Ty’s torso.  Krieger had flogged Zane’s chest so hard as to yank the clamps off, but he didn’t know Ty’s pain endurance yet; he would work up to that.  The hair had grown back in on Ty’s torso, lining the edge of his pecs and around his nipples, dusting his pec cleavage, and thick from his navel down to his crotch.  Sex with Zane had gotten strained a bit after the night he broke the plate.  Zane didn’t leave him any orders or demand submission in the basement.  They still fucked, but it wasn’t the same and they both felt it.  Again Ty was wracked with guilt.  He had chosen this window of opportunity to hook up with Krieger since he knew any marks would have plenty of time to disappear before Zane got back.  He told himself that a session would scratch the itch and then he would no longer feel the need.  Krieger put down the flogger.  He tipped Ty’s head up and made him drink some water.  “You’re drifting, boy,” Krieger said.  “Yes Sir.  Sorry Sir,” Ty replied.  He was locked in a cage for a few hours to give him time to think.  Then Krieger came down and released him, putting him on his knees.  Krieger ordered Ty to suck his thick cock while he reached up and mauled Krieger’s tits.  He ejaculated in Ty’s mouth.  Ty swallowed.  The expectation of swallowing Master’s load had been set back when Krieger first outlined the rules of submission.  Ty was ordered to masturbate himself, then get dressed and see himself out.  Ty couldn’t help but feel that had fallen short of expectations. 

Zane had been given the full treatment.  Fully nude, told to bend at the waist and spread his ass; then turn around, lift his cock and balls out of the way to make sure he wasn't hiding anything.  He wasn't.  They were all men, so he wasn't embarrassed showing his body.  He even caught a few admiring glances, envious of Zane's physique.  He'd been given his briefs and trousers back, but was kept barefoot and bare chested as he was ordered into a chair.  They had brought rope and duct tape;  Zane watched their actions silently, a bit disappointed to be taken out of the game so early.  The agent who had patted him down and executed the search prodded Zane's arms behind the back of the chair.  Zane sat up a bit straighter in order to take the pressure off his shoulders.  "There you go," the agent coached him.  "Cross your wrists."  He pulled Zane's wrists into the optimal position for securing them, then expertly circled the rope in a figure eight several times, cinching the knots, then securing Zane's wrists down tightly with ropes spreading out to the tops of the chair legs.  He came around front, quietly saying "Spread your legs."  Zane was trying to follow what was happening with the Bolts ASAIC as he took over the command center.  However he knew he had to comply, and did so.  The agent knelt again, making short work of tying Zane's bare ankles to the chair legs.  At one point he held Zane's big foot in place as he tightened the rope.  Zane's eyes were fixed on the command center, so he missed the raised glance of the man binding him, as he checked out Zane's solid muscled pecs and hard abs.  Zane was involuntarily flexing in response to being bound.  He jumped a bit when the agent put his hand on Zane's shoulder up near his neck.  "All done.  Just rest easy, you're aren't going anywhere."  Zane gave the man a tight lipped smile, not giving anything away.

They were having trouble cracking into Zane's program, however they had easily mastered the status board and communication channels, already sending misinformation out to the other teams, and sharing leads only with the remainder of the Bolts team.  Zane followed what was going on in his head, running scenarios for how the other teams in the field might be impacted.  Most of them would be easily misled, since in theory communications from HQ could be trusted.  If any of them were smart enough to listen in to the Bolts' internal comms, they would get clued in.  And one team, his own from Baltimore, had requested a very wise Easter Egg, asking "who can we trust?"  Zane's answer had been enigmatic, "YOYO," and he hoped they were smart enough to figure it out.

Across town, Logan and three of the Balto Team were heading out to a mock drug deal.  Logan was dressed as a street kid who was purchasing some marijuana from the low level dealer.  The man was the objective of the whole exercise, but noone suspected such an insignificant character could be their man.  Logan opened the Easter Egg.  "Yoyo?  What the fuck does that mean?" he asked, turning to include the agents in the back seat.  After a couple blank stares, they started brainstorming.  "Yoyo?  As in the kid's toy?  Something about up and down?" one of them thought out loud.  Another chimed in, "Something about being on a string?  Or spinning?"  Logan read the Easter Egg again, trying to pick something out.  "It's in all caps, if that matters," he said, trying to spur more thought from the team.  The driver, Agent Nash, looked over briefly.  He had his dark hair slicked back and hadn’t shaved for a few days, ready to play a role in the undercover operation that they assumed would be needed to lure their man out into the open.  Everyone in the Baltimore Field Office teased Nash about his dark good looks; with the stubble and his longish hair slicked back, he looked dangerous.  A tight black tshirt hugged his muscled torso, with short sleeves clinging to his biceps and a deep vee in front showing off his tan, smooth chest.  "It means ‘you're on your own’," Nash stated firmly.  The others fell silent, processing this.  "How do you know that?" Logan demanded.  "It's a technical term, for an approach without user parameters," Nash replied, shrugging.  "It's pretty standard."  One of the agents in the back seat burst out, "What the fuck kind of Easter Egg is that? I thought they were required to give us an answer, but now we've got nothing to go on."  Logan was staring at the card in his hand, about to chime in, when Nash beat him to it.  "No you idiot, that IS the clue.  It means trust noone."  Logan finished his thought, "And since it came from HQ, it means don't listen to HQ.  Holy fuck, that's gold."  Nash nodded, clearly processing what they had learned about the operation, and how the whole thing had just shifted under them.

But Logan's mind was elsewhere.  He thought of Zane, manning HQ alone.  Their Easter Egg meant that Zane was no longer running HQ, that it had been compromised.  Logan's mind tried to focus on who would have made such a bold move, but his thoughts kept going back to his mentor, also his friend, and briefly his fellow collared sub, ASAIC Garrett.  He was sure Zane would be fine, if disgruntled or even a bit humiliated at being neutralized.  Logan had had a bad case of hero worship for Zane starting the minute he joined the FBI.  Zane had taken the young agent under his wing right from the start, monitoring his physical training as well as his problem solving and thinking.  Ty looked on, mostly scowling, grudgingly adding street smarts and scrappy fighting skills to Zane's more textbook agenda.  Logan had spotted almost right away that the two of them were more than just roommates, but after confirming his conclusion with Zane after a late afternoon workout, Logan had promised to keep it to himself.  The two were changing out of their workouts clothes, ready to hit the showers, when Logan had point blank asked Zane if he and Ty were a couple.  Zane had answered by not answering; just grabbing his towel and heading to shower up, fully naked, his big dick flopping around.  "You coming, Logan?" Zane had asked over his shoulder, his tone indicating that while they wouldn't discuss the matter any further, nothing had changed between them.  "Yeah," Logan replied, his voice a bit hoarse; first he had to get rid of his erection.  He had it bad for the older agent; he hadn't even fully acknowledged to himself that he was gay.  Despite his numerous encounters with women who were turned on by his lean boyish body and rock hard thick cock, Logan couldn't deny the straining hardon and aching balls he was sporting as he watched Zane's muscled ass and broad muscled back as he walked to the showers.  Back in the car, Logan shook his head to clear it and focus on the assignment.  He wanted his team to win desperately.  However he still had a nagging concern for Zane's treatment, and hoped he could intervene.

Of course Logan had no clue that Zane had set himself up.  Still, Zane hoped the exercise didn't end with him still tied helplessly to the chair, and he certainly hadn't planned on the strip search or being kept half naked and barefoot.  He looked down at his trim waist; he had leaned up a bit during Ty's absence, and his slacks rode low on his belly, the belt doing nothing to hold them up.  A few inches below his navel was showing, with the dark hair swirling out thicker as it went lower.  The top of the waistband on his briefs was barely visible.  He absently heard the Bolts' ASAIC frustrated and cursing, muttering "If we can't figure this out, we'll have to get it out of him."  Zane smirked.  His plan was working, and these Dolts thought they were in charge.  "What's so funny, Garrett?"

Ty stripped naked and took a long hot shower after he got back to the row house.  If anything, the session with Krieger left him feeling more tense and pent up, instead of relaxed and drained.  I’m doing this all wrong, Ty thought to himself as he toweled off.  He lay on the bed, on top of the covers, naked.  He missed Zane.  Dammit, I need to share with Zane what I’m feeling, what I think I need to get my head on straight.  Zane would be supportive, as he always was.  Heck, maybe Zane can do the honors himself.  Ty idly stroked his cock as he thought of his lover dressed in leather, raising his arm to bring the flogger down.  He moaned and ejaculated across his belly, surprised at how much he shot off, considering he had pumped out a load at Krieger’s only an hour before.  The gobs of cum caught in the treasure trail that Zane hadn’t shaved in a while.  Ty resolved to come clean and be fully honest about his needs with Zane.  The minute he got back.  Ty slept well that night, his load dry and crusty on his abs.

Chapter 10 – Ty and Zane Suffer

Zane listened intently for the first half hour or so, before making his first comment. He put on a good act, chuckling dismissively, saying "You won't find the perp by diverting the other teams. You should use them to your advantage until they get close, then betray them." The Bolts' team leader was already frustrated at the lack of progress; he had thought taking over HQ was the quick answer to winning. He stood, hands on his hips, facing Zane. He was a powerfully built man, thick through the midsection, muscular but with a bit of a belly. Many criminals would be afraid to be alone with him in an interrogation room. In fact, that's how Miller had started his career in law enforcement, as a beat cop then later a detective. He was a bit rough and bent the rules, but got the job done in San Diego, much like a certain ex-Marine did in Baltimore. But that's where the comparison ended; Ty was always looking out for the team, not wanting any of the glory, much less attention, for himself. Miller wanted to get ahead, and he'd do it by stomping on the backs of the other teams, or even his own fellow agents, if need be. "And how do you propose I do that, smart guy?" Miller asked. He moved closer, standing tall, running his eyes over the man bound to a chair before him. Zane knew he was trying to assert his authority by comparing their relative positions. Zane shrugged his shoulders as much as the ropes would allow, saying "That's up to you, Miller. You're in charge now, you took over HQ, so run the show." Now Miller squatted down, putting a hand on Zane's shoulder. Zane tensed reflexively, his pecs and abs flexing. "That's right," Miller continued slowly, "I'm in charge now, I took over HQ, and that means I took over you as well. I'm sure you have information that would help us." Zane narrowed his eyes as Miller stood; Zane wasn't sure he was prepared for Miller to put that spin on it. "Perry. Escort the prisoner into the interrogation room," Miller ordered, tipping his head over his shoulder in Zane's direction. Perry was the one who had bound Zane up. "Shit, I just tied him to the chair, and now you want me to move him?" Perry locked eyes on Zane, but his expression was unreadable. "You heard me, Perry. Hop to," Miller said. "Uh, you do realize that now we've treated Garrett as a hostile, according to the rules he can react accordingly," Perry pointed out. "I know the rules, man. I read them, same as you, and sat through that endless prep meeting," Miller said, slamming the meeting Zane had required the teams to sit through before the exercise began. Zane firmly believed that brains were stronger than brawn; the solution to any field exercise, including this one, lay more in thinking than acting, but Miller obviously didn't subscribe to that philosophy. Perry sighed, and walked over behind Zane, retrieving his handcuffs from the back of his belt. As Perry had stated, Zane was free to resist, struggle, fight, escape, mislead, threaten or even shoot anyone, now that he'd been brought into the exercise as a combatant. Perry's hand gripped Zane's forearm as he snicked the first cuff around Zane's wrist.

Before work the next day, Ty got up early enough to shave his torso and pits after his morning run.  His newly smooth lower abdomen was starting to show the ridges of a six pack.  Next he squatted down and shaved his balls and taint, and the light dusting on hair on his ass.  If I’m going to go all out with this submission thing, whether to Zane or Krieger, I need to get myself ready, he thought to himself.  In the past, he had liked sporting a natural look, with body hair wherever it grew in.  Now, he got some satisfaction knowing that he was presenting himself how someone else wanted him.  He was a little pissed at Zane for not keeping up with keeping Ty smooth how he liked him.  He snapped a pic of his freshly manscaped body and sent it to Krieger, without being asked.  ‘Getting prepped for our next session, Master’ was the accompanying text.  Zane wasn’t due back for another few days, so Ty would have time for any marks to fade if he submitted tonight or tomorrow night.  Or both.  He needed to prove to himself that he could be a good sub.  And if he was honest with himself, he wanted Krieger’s thick cock up his ass.  The fact that Krieger had ordered Ty to suck him off and then masturbate himself led Ty to believe he hadn’t earned a good assfucking.  He knew Krieger had fucked Zane.  On some level that he probably couldn’t elucidate, he wanted to be subjected to the same thing.

Perry made sure that Zane’s wrists were cuffed before loosening the ropes.  He had the entire Bolts team that had taken over HQ surround Zane, at the ready if he decided to try and fight his way out.  “Stand up,” Perry said.  Zane complied, not flinching as Perry took him by the arm and escorted him down the hall to the interrogation room.  Miller smirked, watching Zane’s retreating form.  “We’ll get what we need to know out of him,” Miller said, to no one in particular.  A few minutes later, Perry returned.  “He’s locked in the interrogation room, under guard,” he reported.  Miller coached Perry on how they were going to break Zane and get him to tell them exactly what was in the computer program that was running the training exercise.  Perry didn’t like it, but he went along with it, since Miller was in charge.  With a sigh, Perry returned to the interrogation room, while Miller went into the adjoining room to watch Zane’s reactions through the two way mirror. 

The second session went much better.  Ty was fully erect and dripping when he stripped and knelt.  As with Zane, Krieger collared Ty immediately.  After requesting permission to speak, Ty asked for an escalation in the pain level that Krieger dished out.  Krieger roamed his eyes over Ty’s freshly shaved pits and torso as he had him stand and walked him over to be chained up.  During the next few hours, Krieger worked him hard.  Tits clamped, balls tied off, being alternately gut punched and whipped.  His hard earned six pack was tensed, the bruises already showing.  Ty was gasping with need and euphoric at the endorphins that were clearing his head, letting him think clearly for the first time in weeks.  He closed his eyes and thought of Zane, but not as a sub tied in this very spot, but as the goal towards which he was working.  He wanted to be worthy of Zane.  He felt he had failed Zane when Sidewinder was blown up and Ty sold as a cage fighter.  Zane had been utterly broken when Ty walked him out of the prison cell at Azzar’s compound.  Zane was working so hard to get back to his job and his relationship.  Ty was proud of Zane.  Loved Zane.  Zane, oh god ZANE!  Ty didn’t realize he was screaming Zane’s name until Krieger hugged Ty to him, chest to chest, Ty’s arms still bound overhead.  Ty blinked.  “Master…?” he began.  “I think you needed that,” Krieger said, smirking.  “What happened?” Ty was still struggling to separate what was going on in his head from what was going on in Krieger’s dungeon.  Krieger stepped back a bit, and hefted Ty’s mostly hard cock.  The remains of an ejaculation clung to it.  “You shot off as I was whipping you,” Krieger said, gesturing to the milky splatters on the floor.  “Oh god,” Ty said, going completely limp in his chains, covered in sweat.  He looked up at Krieger.  “Thank you,” he said, voice hoarse from screaming.  Krieger didn’t punish him for forgetting to address him as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’.  Krieger could see the release and relief on Ty’s face, and would forgive a sub anything for that kind of catharsis.  He slipped an arm around Ty’s lower back and helped him stand.  Still holding onto him, Krieger started to release the manacles.  “But you’re not done, Sir,” Ty began.  “No but you are, my boy.  I’m immensely proud of you,” Krieger said.  “But I didn’t do anything,” Ty protested.  “Yes you did.  You responded to what I was giving you.  And you responded beautifully,” Krieger said.  Krieger leaned in to kiss Ty on the lips.  He responded passionately, hugging his arms tightly around his Master.  After being released, Ty was quietly ordered onto his knees, chest and head on the ground, to take it up the ass.  Krieger barebacked him.  “Magnificent, Tyler,” Krieger said, as he was thrusting in and out.  “As you may have guessed, I’ve been filming our sessions.  And I’ll replay this one over and over,” he explained.  Krieger could see the brief flash of concern on Ty’s eyes and tensing of his muscles.  “Not to worry, boy.  Of course I don’t share anything.  And I would never hold it over you.  Or Zane.  Remember, I have many more hours of your partner recorded.  And yet I released him without a qualm.”  “Yes, Master,” Ty said, as Krieger’s spunk flooded his ass.  After a bit of cleaning up, Master and slave were seated on a comfortable chair and the floor, respectively.  Unlike Zane, Ty nursed a whiskey, same as Krieger.  “Did you get what you were seeking, boy?  What you failed to get last time?” Krieger asked, gently.  “God, yes.  I really can’t thank you enough.  I guess last time I was too conflicted to focus, but you really whipped me into shape tonight,” Ty said.  He continued, “And thank you for fucking me.  I think I needed to have you inside me, same as Zane did.  Somehow it makes us even, on a level playing field.”  Krieger just nodded.  After a pause, he asked, “Will I see you again?”  Ty didn’t look away as he answered, “I honestly don’t know.”

Nash pulled off the interaction with the sketchy dude in the alley, getting a valuable bit of information about where to find their mark.  The informant was required to answer questions as asked, but not to offer up any additional information; that was up to him, and how well the teams worked their interrogation skills.  Nash was able to trip him up and get some background on the operation.  He adopted a “we’re in this together” buddy-buddy attitude to get the guy talking, and it worked.  Nash got back in the car with the others, and they headed off across town. 

After keeping Zane waiting a while, one of the San Diego agents named Davis entered the interrogation room.  Miller watched through the two way mirror as Davis removed Zane’s cuffs, reminded him that he was under guard, then quietly but authoritatively ordered Zane to strip down.  Zane shook his head slightly in exasperation, but complied.  As he removed each article of clothing, Davis searched it cursorily, piling Zane’s clothes up to be removed and stored.  Soon Zane was sitting in the cold metal chair, unfettered, his cock soft over his heavy balls.  Miller couldn’t help but admire Zane’s physique; he was fit, with broad shoulders and solid pecs, powerful arms, and a tight trim belly.  A trail of dark hair led up Zane’s etched abdominals, spreading out over his pectorals.  He seemed like a man comfortable in his skin.  Miller had a brief memory of how he himself had once been younger and fit.  He would show Garrett who was in charge when he started the interrogation. 

Electrodes were attached to several spots on Zane’s chest and belly.  His responses were sluggish, having resisted telling Miller anything.  But his resistance was wearing down. If only he could hold out long enough for the Baltimore team, or really any team besides San Diego, to win the exercise.  He blinked, looking up, as Miller called his name.  His head started to sag again, but Miller grabbed Zane’s hair and yanked his head up.  “Not so high and mighty now, are we Garrett?  Just look at you,” Miller said, derisively running his eyes over Zane’s naked body as it reacted to the electroshock.  Zane’s torso was coated with a thin layer of perspiration.  His nipples were hard, he was breathing heavily.  But as he followed Miller’s gaze and looked down his own torso, he saw to his utter humiliation that his cock was fully erect.  Ten inches, leaking precum.  He look up at Miller, helpless.  “You want to get off, Garrett?” Miller said in a loud whisper, leaning down close to Zane’s ear.  Zane nodded, dumbly, his cock bobbing in the air.  “I’ll get you off.  You’ll love it.  You just have to tell us the access code to break into your program,” Miller offered.  Zane started to shake his head, but Miller reached his big hand out and aggressively rubbed Zane’s taut abs, pushing as he moved lower, his fingers tangling in the thick dark hair.  Zane groaned as Miller took his thick cock into his hand, and gave it a couple long, languid, slow strokes.  Miller used his thumb to rub the precum over Zane’s sensitive cockhead, and finally Zane succumbed.  He hung his head and quietly said, “All right, you win.”  Miller grinned and knelt down.  He kept stroking Zane’s cock.  “What’s the code?  Just tell me, and I’ll stroke you off.”  Zane looked up a bit and locked eyes with Miller. He opened his mouth to tell him the code.  Just then there was an altercation outside the interrogation room door.

Davis walked into the room, a surprised expression on his face.  His arms were at his side.  Right behind him was Logan, a gun jammed in Davis’ back.  “What the hell?” Miller roared, letting go of Zane’s cock as if it were on fire.  “Sorry boss, there were too many of them,” Davis said, as Nash followed Logan into the room, his weapon also drawn.  “Both you men, hands behind your head,” Nash barked, his focus on the San Diego agents.  Logan’s eyes widened as he took in Zane’s condition; the nudity, the electroshock, and Zane’s throbbing hardon.  It was obvious he’d been abused to within an inch of the rules.  “About time,” Zane said as he sat up and started peeling the electrodes off his chest.  He was moving slowly, in obvious pain.  The San Diego team was escorted out, giving Zane and Logan some privacy.  “Shit, are you ok Sir?” Logan asked.  “Yeah, just a bit worse for wear,” Zane replied.  “Hand me my clothes?” Zane asked, and Logan brought him the pile of clothes.  Logan couldn’t take his eyes off Zane’s still mostly hard cock as he pulled up his briefs and tucked it away.  “Did you guys break the case?” Zane asked.  “Yeah, but the Houston team beat us to the final rendezvous.  They got to the drug dealer and already had him in custody,” Logan replied.  Zane fastened up his trousers, and pulled his shirt up over his shoulders.  Zane suspected that Logan steered the Baltimore team towards headquarters once they knew he’d been compromised.  “You should have focused on winning,” Zane admonished.  “But he –“ Logan started, reliving in his mind Zane’s condition when he arrived with the cavalry.  Zane finished buttoning up his shirt, and stood in front of Logan.  He put his hand on the younger agent’s shoulder.  “We both know you can’t let your feelings get in the way.  You would have broken the case, and in a real life scenario it’s likely they would have just killed me,” Zane said.  Logan just nodded, following Zane out to mop up the operation.

Back in Baltimore, Logan resumed his role as Krieger’s slave.  He had his regular standing every Friday training session, and more often than not he spent the night at Krieger’s on other nights as well, always stripped down to a jockstrap, wearing a slave collar, and carrying out Krieger’s orders.  Krieger enjoyed having a fit eager sub, and his sexual needs were certainly taken care of, but he missed Zane’s pain tolerance and his fit, mature body.  Ty was still coming by with some regularity, but Krieger was sworn to secrecy that Ty was submitting to him, so Krieger had to keep Logan away when Ty was able to make himself available.  Since Zane had come back from San Francisco, he’d only been able to break away a few times, and always with the admonishment that he couldn’t have any marks.  Krieger was certainly able to work within those limits, taking pleasure in hurting Ty.  One time the whole session was just Krieger whacking Ty’s bound balls with the end of his belt, legs spread and arms overhead, Ty screaming and gasping until cum started oozing out his half hard cock, down over his balls.  Each session ended with Krieger’s semen up Ty’s ass or down his throat.  Ty always thanked Krieger.  Krieger didn’t inquire about Zane.  He wanted Zane to be happy and fulfilled; if that meant he needed some of what Krieger had to offer, he figured he would seek him out.

When Zane gave his ‘Honey, I’m home’ greeting upon arrival at the row house, he was greeted with a long, strong hug from Ty.  Ty still held Zane in his arms as he asked, “How did it go?  You look great, by the way,” running his hands through Zane’s short hair.  They moved to the kitchen counter, still touching.  Zane summarized the exercise as Ty nursed a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and Zane a bottled water.  They chatted easily, comfortably.  “Dinner’s in the oven,” Ty finally said, gesturing towards the kitchen.  “But we have about forty-five minutes until it’s ready.”  Zane slid off the stool.  Ty did likewise.  Zane cupped Ty’s bulge through his jeans.  “All right then, Marine,” Zane said in a stern voice.  “Upstairs, butt naked, on your knees, hands behind your head.  You’re biting the pillow for me.”  “Yes, SIR,” Ty replied, taking the stairs two at a time to get in position.  Moments later, when Zane walked into the bedroom, he was greeted with the sight of his lover, fit as ever, freshly shaved, in a position of submission.  Ty’s hardon bobbed in the air, standing proud over his heavy balls.  As promised, he bit the pillow and Zane sank in, slow at first, then fucking Ty roughly before both of them unloading at almost the same moment.  Zane pulled out, leaving a trail of semen on Ty’s smooth ass.  They cuddled for a bit, the smell of sex permeating the room.  Things were good, they both thought to themselves.  Maybe even finally back to normal.

Chapter 11 – Crossing the Line

The next morning, in bed, Zane ran his hand over Ty’s smooth, toned chest.  “You’ve kept up with the shaving,” Zane commented.  “Yeah,” Ty said, “Keeps me connected with you, babe.  I missed you while you were gone.”  Zane’s hand roamed lower, hefting Ty’s balls.  His cock showed some interest.  “Hand job?” Zane offered.  “Only if I can stick it to you,” Ty negotiated.  “No dice, Marine,” Zane replied.  “We’re gonna keep you in sub mode for a while.”  “OK,” Ty said, quietly.  His dick showed more interest, but Zane released it.  “Go make coffee,” Zane ordered.  Ty started to pull on his sweats and a tshirt, but Zane cut him off.  “Jockstrap only,” he said.  Ty nodded, reached for yesterday’s sweaty, piss stained jockstrap, and pulled it up his muscular legs.  It framed his smooth tight butt as he exited the bedroom towards the stairs.  His hardon was barely contained by the pouch.  Ten minutes later, with a cup of coffee in both of them, Ty was bent over the kitchen island, his jockstrap stuffed in his mouth, as Zane mounted him.  He sank in, holding Ty’s arms crossed high on his back.  Ty spread his legs as he let out the first moan of pleasure.  “That’s it, moan for me bitch,” Zane said, using his hips to roughly thrust in over and over, changing the angle.  Ty was allowed to put his jockstrap back on as they finished their coffee, a fresh load of Zane’s spunk coating his asscrack, slowly drying.  Zane showered and dressed for work.  Ty pulled on his running shorts, shoes and socks.  Zane had bought Ty several new pairs of running shorts after returning from San Francisco.  Size medium, open at the sides.  Ty usually wore a large.  Wearing a shirt wasn’t even an option.  Zane came down the stairs, suit and tie impeccable as always.  He ran his eyes over his lover’s mostly exposed body, as Ty was bent over doing stretches.  Zane could smell Ty, since he hadn’t allowed him to shower.  “Ten miles, plus the abs routine,” Zane said.  Ty mumbled his assent.  “And I want a sweaty selfie when you’re done,” Zane added.  “Strap?  Or naked?” Ty asked.  “Naked and hard,” Zane said, before giving Ty a possessively sloppy kiss on his way to the door.  A hard slap on Ty’s butt, and Zane was gone, the door closing behind him.  Ty chuckled to himself, thinking over how he felt about Dom Zane.  It certainly made his dick hard, but he wondered how long before he grew bored of their little game, or chafed under the rules.  It certainly took his mind off needing to submit to Krieger.  You don’t suppose he knows, Ty thought to himself.  He didn’t see how that was possible.  But maybe staying away from Krieger for a while would be a good idea, he promised himself as he headed down the sidewalk, already at a light jog.

In the noon status meeting, Zane was going over updated assignments.  As ASAIC, he had control over the agenda and the assignments.  He was surprisingly good at pairing agents together who had complementary skills and backgrounds.  A few questions were asked, and Zane calmly gave the answers.  As he was running the meeting, without breaking his concentration he picked up his phone, thumbed it open, and glanced at the screen for a split second.  He put it back down without even a pause in the sentence.  Ty’s cock, gloriously hard, against the sweaty background of his etched abs.  Zane gave the slightest of smirks as he adjourned the meeting, a new idea brewing in his mind.  He had plans for Ty after his evening workout.

Zane and Logan were sparring.  Both shirtless, in tight lycra shorts and gloves.  They were quite a contrast, Zane much taller, darker, hirsute; Logan fair, compact and smooth.  Logan’s quickness was almost a match for Zane’s long reach and his years of experience.  Almost.  It wasn’t long before Logan was on his ass on the mat, Zane offering him a hand up.  “C’mon kid, you’ve had enough,” Zane said.  “Don’t call me ‘kid’,” Logan replied, grinning a bit.  Even in pain, Logan liked teasing Zane.  They walked companionably to the locker room.  It was after hours, no one around.  Zane slung an arm around Logan’s shoulders, and Logan put an arm around Zane’s waist.  It had been months since they had had sex, even if it was at Krieger’s command, and it was unlikely that would ever happen again.  Instead, the two had evolved into a companionable, familiar friendship that was the result of shared experience.  They were comfortable seeing each other naked, and touching.  Even now, sweaty and ripe.  Logan popped a bit of a boner at the feel and smell of Zane’s thickly furred pit rubbing his shoulder.  As they undressed, Logan made a teasing comment about the thick hair on Zane’s chest and belly, his dense pit hair, and unshaven balls.  Standing naked, Zane rolled his eyes, firing back about Logan just being a boy, not a man.  “Real men have body hair,” Zane said, lifting a leg up onto the bench.  He turned his ass towards Logan, reaching back and spreading his cheek.  Logan couldn’t help but look.  He reached a hand out tentatively, touching Zane’s hip.  “I miss our old sessions,” he said quietly.  Zane gripped Logan’s wrist, and remove his hand, not unfriendly, but firm.  “I do too, in some ways.  It was nice not calling the shots.  But things are good with Ty, and I can’t mess that up,” Zane said.  Logan just nodded, pushing his shorts off, showing his smooth groin.  “He still keeping you shaved?” Zane asked.  “Yeah,” Logan answered.  “I disobeyed and jerked off the other day, so I lost what little body hair I had earned back,” Logan lamented.  Zane chuckled.  “So you’re under his control?  As his uh…  boy?  Or is it more slave?” Zane asked.  Logan shrugged.  “I guess more of a boy, but he has me do chores and stuff like a slave,” Logan clarified.  “So let’s say you’re his slaveboy,” Zane concluded.  “I guess,” Logan said, reaching down and gripping his mostly hard dick.  All this talk, plus seeing Zane’s body in all its glory, had gotten him riled up.  “Can I suck you?” Logan asked, a pleading look in his eyes.  “No,” Zane answered.  “And quit asking,” he added.  “I’m gonna go piss and shower,” Zane said, walking off.  Logan recognized a loophole when he saw it.  Two minutes, Logan was kneeling naked on the tiles in the shower, jerking himself furiously as Zane aimed a thick stream of warm piss all over his torso.  He even drank some of it, ejaculating just as Zane’s bladder emptied.  “Pig,” Zane accused, a bit lightly, as he moved under the spray to get clean.  Logan joined him at the next shower head.  “I needed that, thanks,” Logan said, aiming the spray to make sure all the piss and cum washed down the drain.  “Won’t you get in trouble?” Zane asked.  “Yeah, probably, but he won’t figure I disobeyed again so recently,” Logan explained.  Zane nodded.  Twenty minutes later, Logan climbed into his Camry as Zane lifted a leg over his Valkyrie.  Wearing his typical biker uniform of tight jeans, black boots and tshirt one size too small under his leather jacket, Zane was a vision on his bike.  He pulled on his helmet and gave Logan a quick wave before heading home.

Ty was in demand.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to continue in the same line of work, but private security firms were actually calling him out of the blue.  He went on a few casual fact-finding interviews.  The pay was amazing, the danger present but manageable.  Some of the firms were too shady even for Ty, but there were a few legit operations who just needed experienced, armed muscle.  Bodyguards, mercs, private security, escorting convoys, it was all out there for the choosing.  If anything he thought doing bodyguard duty might be the best option.  After a particularly intriguing interview with a heavily muscled ex-Marine, he came in to the row house, a bit later than he had planned.  He had spotted Zane’s car down the block, and Zane’s suit jacket was on one of the kitchen barstools.  “Zane?” he called, pretty loud, as he opened the oven and smelled the roast Zane had put in.  His mouth watered.  When he realized he hadn’t gotten an answer, he headed towards the stairs, calling out “Zane?” again.  No answer.  Not really alarmed, Ty still took the stairs quickly.  He spotted Zane’s slacks over the back of the desk chair.  Briefs and socks on the floor.  His eyes moved up to the bed.  What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.  Spread out before him was the naked body of his lover.  Face down, arms and legs spread to the four corners of the bed.  Securely bound with rope.  Wonder how he managed that, Ty thought, slowly walking closer, drinking in the scene before him.  Zane’s magnificent butt was face up, the thick hair growing denser towards the crack.  Ty remained silent as he spotted the ball gag buckled in Zane’s thick, longish hair.  Zane flexed, obviously knowing Ty was in the room, but giving no indication.  His back tensed.  Ty sat on the side of the bed, and ran his hand down over Zane’s broad back, tapering down to his trim waist, then even lower as he spread Zane’s cheeks and ran a finger over his tight hole.  Zane had even lubed himself.  Ty decided some payback was in order.  Instead of stripping down and going to town on Zane’s ass, he retrieved a plug and slowly, teasingly inserted it in Zane’s hole.  He moved it in and out a few dozen times, running over Zane’s prostate, before leaving it lodged there.  Then he reached under Zane and somewhat painfully hauled his cock and balls down below his spread thighs.  Zane was fully hard.  The head was leaking.  Ty got some rawhide cord and tied Zane’s balls off tightly.  Very tightly.  Then he went downstairs to take things out of the oven.  He lingered over a Mike’s Hard Lemonade.  He turned on the TV and checked the scores.  Finally he went back upstairs, pulling his shirt off as he entered the room.  He could see the glint of Zane’s eye, slowly following him.  A thin sheen of sweat covered Zane’s body.  His ass was quivering.  Ty opened his fly and showed Zane his mostly hard dick.  “That’s going up your ass,” he taunted.  Zane didn’t acknowledge Ty having spoken.  The plug was removed.  Ty kicked off his jeans.  He positioned himself and entered his lover, sinking in balls deep in a single thrust.  Zane finally relaxed, breathing out through his nose.  “Payback’s a bitch,” Ty said, as he started a long deep fuck.  Twenty minutes later, Ty’s balls pulled up and he flooded his lover’s ass.  Zane had already ejaculated.  Twice.  After Zane came the first time, Ty had released his balls.  The first load was mostly dry from the tight rawhide cord binding Zane’s testicles.  The second load was immense, leaving a shiny puddle below him.  As Ty pulled out, he remained kneeling between Zane’s legs.  He reached up and unbuckled the gag.  “Get what you wanted out of that?” Ty asked as he untied Zane’s ankles.  Zane looked up over his shoulder.  “I did it for you, babe,” Zane said.  “But yeah, it was amazing, thanks,” Zane added, as Ty released his wrists.  “No, it’s you who are amazing,” Ty said, pulling Zane into his arms.  The two men locked eyes, smiled at each other, then kissed.  They didn’t clean up, eating dinner with dry sweat and cum on them under their sweatpants and pitted tshirts.  Before bed, another rough session where Zane sucked Ty, then fucked him.  The room smelled like spunk as they drifted off.  Sometimes rough and dirty was fun.

It was another few months before Ty submitted to Krieger again.  Zane was off on another one of his training conferences, this one in Boston.  Ty was antsy, and running and lifting weren’t doing it for him.  He made the call.  Krieger outlined his conditions, sounding none too pleased to have not heard from Ty in so long.  “Yes, Master,” Ty agreed to all Krieger’s demands.  He went upstairs to prepare himself.  Krieger hung up with Ty, and dialed Logan.  Logan knew right away that the cancellation had to do with Krieger hosting another sub.  The last time he cancelled, it had been Zane.  But he knew Zane was out of town.  Logan was starting to buck under the tight restrictions Krieger put on him, so he made a snap decision that he would later regret.  Logan parked his Camry a few blocks away from Krieger’s house, and positioned himself in Krieger’s yard, hidden by the landscaping, to both watch the side door and be able to crawl over and look through the basement window.  Logan saw the man arrive, and enter the side door.  But it was too dark to tell anything about him.  Twenty minutes later, Logan crawled to the basement window and peered in.  An extremely fit man was bound, arms overhead, naked, facing him.  His torso appeared shaved.  He had ‘cum whore’ written in grease paint on his hard abdominal muscles.  His nipples were clamped, his balls were tied off, and he was hooded.  Krieger was slowly, methodically flogging him.  His cock was fully erect.  He could tell the blows weren’t too severe, both from experience and from the mild reaction of the bound man’s body.  But he was deep in subspace.  Logan seethed with jealousy.  Who the fuck was this guy that he got Logan banished for the night.  As Logan continued watching, he saw Krieger put the flogger down.  He retrieved a small brown bottle, and gave the bound stud two long popper hits, one in each nostril.  As the man sagged in his bonds, Krieger hauled out his thick club of a cock, went around back, spread the man’s buttocks and thrust in.  Logan watched the dull reaction of the man, floating.  Soon after, the man’s head had fallen to his chest, the remains of his load dripping from his own deflating cock.  Krieger gripped his waist and buried his cock, erupting bare into the man’s ass.  He pulled out and patted the man’s flank.  He barely responded as Krieger left the dungeon, to go upstairs, clean up a bit, and take off his leathers.  Logan knew he only had about 20 minutes, probably less, to carry out what he had in mind.

Logan was intent on executing his task quickly, with no wasted steps.  He used his key to enter Krieger’s house, then quickly tiptoe down to the basement.  He switched off the sound monitor that Krieger used to ensure his subs didn’t need him while he was out of the room.  Logan glanced over towards the bound man, still mostly hanging in his restraints, as he picked up the whip.  The room smelled of sweat and cum.  A couple quick steps across the concrete floor, a raised arm, a swift arcing motion and WHACK the whip cut diagonally across the sub’s back.  The bound man jolted in his restraints, not ready for the blow, and clearly shocked.  Before any other reaction, Logan laid on another, then another, each harder than the last.  The man was genuinely struggling now, flexing, pulling on the chains, trying to communicate around the gag forced into his mouth.  Logan looked with satisfaction at the welts raising on the man’s back.  Two more blows, the final one deep enough to cut the skin, and the man was genuinely screaming.  Logan replaced the whip, and with a backwards glance over his shoulder, moved quickly towards the door.  He was stunned, but hesitated only a moment, when he noticed the defaced bulldog tattoo on the man’s bicep.  Holy fucking shit, what have I done, Logan thought to himself as he made his way to the Camry and headed home.

Ty was never one to try and hide things.  He had let his submission to Krieger go on too long, and the healing welts on his back were the impetus he needed to come clean.  When Zane walked in the door after his training exercise, Ty was shirtless.  Before even returning Zane’s greeting, Ty turned and showed him his back.  Zane was not pleased, but he recognized Ty’s coming clean as an investment in their relationship.  They talked at length.  Ty agreed to be more up front about his needs, and to seek other outlets.  And he promised he would not see Krieger, or anyone else, without talking to Zane first.  “Did he fuck you?” Zane asked.  “Yes,” Ty replied, still shirtless, eyes intent and locked on Zane, not wanting to mislead or downplay his physical and sexual submission.  “I guess we’re even,” Zane mused.  “You know, it’s weird, in some ways I think that’s why I let it go that far,” Ty started.  When Zane didn’t reply, but was patiently waiting for more, Ty continued, “So that I could make you doing it be okay somehow.”  Zane gave a tight grin.  “I guess it says something about us that I actually understand that,” Zane said.  “Babe,” Ty said, reaching for Zane.  They embraced.  Later, in bed, neither of them felt like fucking.  Just holding each other felt right.  “Any idea who whipped you?” Zane asked.  “None.  It’s weird.  Who else would even know, or have access?” Ty said.  Krieger had been apoplectic and apologetic.  He said he had an idea who had done it, but said he would handle it.  Ty didn’t really have anything to add to that.  He wasn’t mad, per se, since he’d been sort of cheating on Zane he felt like he deserved punishment, and had received it.  They had hugged when Ty left Krieger’s that night. 

Logan knew he had fucked up royally.  Instead of waiting for Krieger to contact or summon him, he took the initiative to submit a week’s vacation at work.  Then he shaved every inch of his body, buzzed his hair, lathered up his head and shaved it smooth as well.  He cleaned himself out, and applied lube liberally inside his tight hole.  He pulled on sweats and a tshirt and drove to Krieger’s house at 5am on Monday morning.  He let himself in, deposited his keys, wallet and clothing on the entry hall table.  Then he padded down to the basement and locked himself into the metal shackles that he had seen Krieger use on Zane months ago.  Then he waited.

Over the next seven days, Logan repeated over and over in his head the initial two responses he had given to Master Krieger’s questioning when he came down the stairs.  “No excuse, Sir,” and “Yes,Sir,” were what he had said to Krieger’s questions.  The questions where, “Why did you do it, son?” and “You understand you’re going to pay dearly.”

He was released the following Sunday night.  Throat hoarse from screaming.  Nipples and cockhead pierced.  A healing tattoo arching over his tight abs:  “SLAVE” spelled out in Gothic letters.  And finally, his stretched hole red and angry from the dozen or so men Krieger had lined up to do the honors.  Logan had posed calmly, naked, front and back, for the photos Krieger took to attach to the Craigslist post with the title, “Disobedient slaveboy needs punishment fuck; Master welcomes all comers.”  Logan almost lost it when Krieger told him to turn around, bend over, and spread his ass wide for the photo.  He saw the flash go off, then waited patiently as Krieger posted the ad.  The responses came in fast and furious later into the evening.  It was all safe, condoms required, but at least a dozen men had fucked Logan nonstop through that first night.  He took it stoically at first, knowing it was punishment he deserved.  He sobbed during the few breaks between men.  Krieger held him, but didn’t reduce his sentence.  Finally, at dawn, Krieger let Logan rest and get some sleep, still naked and shackled.  When he awoke that afternoon, the piercing artist was there.  The next day, it was the tattoo artist.  The only saving grace was that Logan’s dick was mostly hard all week.  He knew he had found his new life.  The last afternoon before his release, Krieger informed Logan that two more men were coming over to use him.  Krieger secured his naked and compliant slaveboy over a sawhorse, then went upstairs to wait for his guests.  Nearly an hour later, Ty and Zane came down the stairs alone.  Both of them stripped off, clearly comfortable around the playspace.  Krieger waited upstairs as they took turns using Logan’s mouth and ass.  They swapped positions a couple times, and Logan was never sure who unloaded down his throat and who flooded his ass with hot spunk.  He lowered his head as they pissed all over him, then dressed and left.  No words were spoken.  Ty and Zane had a quick decomp with Krieger upstairs, each with his beverage of choice.  Apologies were offered by Krieger, and brushed off by Ty and Zane.  Quick manly hugs at the door, and Krieger knew he wouldn’t be seeing the men ever again, at least not in the setting of dominance and submission.  Krieger ran a hot bath, and went to unchain Logan before letting him clean up and sending him on his way.  The regular Friday sessions were back on, with an open offer from Krieger for Logan to move in and be his slaveboy permanently.  A few weeks later Logan gave notice on his apartment.