Captive Games 2  by Virginia Vaughn Send comments to:
virgule@dangerous-minds.com 

     Jim wearily climbed the stairs.  Was it just his
imagination or had they grown steeper the past few days?  Good
lord, he was tired. He had been working doubles since a nasty
virus had started tearing its way through headquarters five days
ago.  This week had been a killer. . . the scum of the earth all
seemed to gravitate to Cascade.  Of course, Simon Bank's
personal attack dog had to be given the cream of the crop to
investigate.  He was eternally grateful that he had the next two
days off.  

     Reaching into his pocket for his keys, he heard a muffled
thump from behind the door.  Odd, he'd figured Sandburg was
still at the University.  Jim frowned, trying to remember if
Blair had afternoon classes on Tuesdays.  Providing, of course,
that today was Tuesday. It had to be, because he knew he was off
tomorrow, and this month his rotation gave him Wednesdays and
Thursdays off duty.   

     Frustrated over his inability to decide whether he was
actually certain it was Tuesday, Jim was distracted and scowling
as he entered the loft.  He kicked the door closed behind him,
shrugged out of his coat and turned to hang it up.  Damn, he
must be tired if he couldn't be sure what day it was. . . . 

     He glanced around the room, reaching out with his hearing. 
Blair wasn't home.  Must have been his imagination, or was he
picking up on the neighbors again?  He hated it when he was this
tired - it always put his senses on the fritz. 

     With a sigh, Jim went up to his bedroom to collect clean
underwear and sweats.  He was covered in filth from his latest
wild chase through the squalor of Cascade's dirtiest alleys. 
Why couldn't criminals try to avoid capture by running through
nice clean parks?  

     By the time he had caught the hood he was after, he had
dropped his gun twice, been kicked, punched and spat upon.  No
real damage, but the crud he'd been rolling in was deeply ground
into his clothes, skin and hair.  All he could think about was
standing under a hot shower while the moist heat soothed his
bruises and washed away the dirt. 

     A shower was exactly what he needed.  Letting the pounding
of the spray beat his tired, aching muscles into submission felt
good enough to make him moan.  So hot he could barely stand it,
the flood rinsed away the dirt, sweat and grime that encrusted
his skin.  Luxuriating in the feeling, he scrubbed until every
trace of his day was washed away.  

     When the flow began to cool the sentinel reluctantly
twisted the taps off.  Jim stepped out from behind the curtain
into the steam filled air.  Eyes tightly closed against the
water dripping from his hair, he reached out blindly for a
towel. 

     Suddenly, he was jumped from behind.  His arms were pulled
back and held in a powerful grip. Jim tensed every muscle as he
prepared to throw off his attacker.  

     Before he could move, a low voice rumbled in his ear. 
"Don't try it. Keep still."  The menace in the tone held him
immobile.  

     "What do you want?" His voice was steady if a little
strained.

     "I want you to be quiet and keep still."  The words were
growled hoarsely into his ear.  

     Jim tensed again, straining to identify the sounds coming
from behind him.  The heartbeat was rapid, but not labored;
neither was the respiration.  Cool confidence was there
underlying the stress.  Not a good sign for him, not good at
all. 

     Deciding to play along until he knew what was going on and
undeniably slowed down by the fatigue that dragged at him, Jim
followed the command.  He stayed tight and ready to spring into
action at the slightest hesitation from this unknown assailant. 
Without warning, cool metal was slapped around his wrists,
closing with a sharp snick.  His stomach lurched . . . he had
been handcuffed. 

     "Why are you doing this?  What do you want?"  He wanted to
bite back the words even as he heard himself choke them out.  

     A strong hand reached around his chest and determined
fingers grasped a nipple, twisting and tweaking it.  Sentinel
senses spiked, the pain flashing along hyper sensitive nerves. 
He hissed as his other nipple was given the same rough
treatment.   

     The voice growled in his ear again.  "You ask too many
questions, cop. From now on I'll ask the questions." 

     The hand that had twisted and pulled at Jim's nipples now
skated down his flat stomach.  He flinched and tried to pull
away, until he felt his balls grasped and squeezed.  The grip
was firm, but not yet painful.  There was no mistaking the
implicit threat. 

     "I want you to kneel down, cop.  I won't be letting go, so
you need to follow orders very carefully." 

     Moving cautiously, Jim lowered himself to his knees. His
captor followed him down, keeping a grip on his testicles. 

     "Okay cop. I'm going to let go now. Do as you're told and
this won't hurt a bit."   

     Jim heard a soft rustle of cloth then a blindfold was
pulled over his eyes. He fought down the urge to struggle as it
was tied tightly around his head. The cloth was black and dense,
with the smooth slippery feel of satin.  The layers were thick
enough that even with his enhanced sight he couldn't see the
slightest glimmer of light through the weave.  

     The unreality of Jim's situation flooded his mind. Here he
was kneeling naked on his bathroom floor, still dripping from
his shower and handcuffed, with his own police issue cuffs if he
wasn't mistaken. He didn't know whether he should be frightened
or simply humiliated.    

     "Ready.  I want you to stand up *very* slowly.  And no
funny stuff.  Or you'll be singing in a whole new octave." 

     With his balls back in the hard grasp, Jim carefully rose
from the floor.  The loss of vision gave him a feeling of
disorientation.  Drawing on his memory of being blinded by
Golden, he tried to reach out with his hearing to compensate for
his lack of sight. Before he could adjust to the darkness, a
strong grip on his biceps and another on his back pushed him
forward and out the bathroom door. Jim shivered as the cool air
currents in the hallway flowed over his damp skin. 

     He was given no chance to hesitate as his captor pushed and
prodded him down the hall and into the living room.  Slowing
when he reached the center of the room, he was knocked off
balance and almost stumbled when he was roughly turned and
shoved forward.  With a final push, Jim was forced to bend over
the railing that led up to his loft bedroom. 

     "Stay right there.  I don't want you to move a muscle.  Do
you hear me?"   

     Jim pondered for a moment, wondering whether the question
actually demanded an answer.  Deciding on caution, he murmured
an affirmative. There was a slithering sound as something was
dragged across the floor. With smooth, sure movements, soft
cotton ropes were wrapped around his back, pinning his chest to
the rail and easing the strain on his wrists.  

     Jim startled at a hollow clatter on the floor behind him. 
Then he felt the gentle slide of supple leather around his right
ankle.  It took every ounce of will power to keep himself from
jerking away from the tightening of the cuff.  The other man
moved swiftly, binding his left ankle.  Jim's legs were forced
apart until he was almost uncomfortably spread.  A soft metallic
clink was followed by two sharp snaps as something was attached
to each cuff.   

     Jim could no longer resist the urge to pull against the
restraints, fighting to wrench himself free.  A cool hand passed
between his legs and deft fingers wrapped themselves around his
balls again. He grunted as the tender orbs were squeezed and
pulled down and back. Straining to pull his legs together, he
realized the ankle cuffs were held apart by whatever was
attached to them.  He could do nothing to protect himself.   

     "You really are a slow learner, aren't you?"  The warm body
of his captor was pressed hard against his back and buttocks.
Jim trembled as the heat from the man's body burned into him and
his warm breath whispered in his ear. 

     "The knots are tight.  If you keep struggling you'll only
get rope burns for your efforts and I'd rather not have you
marked."  

     "What is it you want from me?"

     "Ah-ah, I told you no talking."  The fingers on his balls
tightened a minuscule amount, warning him of his error. His
tormentor reached his other arm around Jim's chest, his fingers
playing over smoothly muscled pecs and rippled abdomen.   

     Ever so slowly the roving hand made its way back up to his
left nipple.  Strong fingers tightened over the pliant nub,
pinching and twisting more gently this time.  Jim groaned in
response, fighting to arch away from the burn.  

     "Like that, cop? There's lots more where that came from." 
The hand that had been gripping his balls loosened and eased
back from between his thighs. 

     "Do you really want to know what I want?  What do you think
it is?  You've got influential friends, and Ellison is an old
and respected family name here in Cascade." 

     "Do you think it might be  money . . . ?  You'd be wrong. 
It could be something else.  Your father and brother have
dealings with a lot of powerful multinational corporations.
Could it be that I need to use you to make a statement?" 

     All the time his captor was speaking, his hands were
roaming over Jim's nude body.  Playing with his tender,
oversensitive nipples, sliding down his flanks and over his
ribs, fondling the tight muscles of his buttocks.  Each slide of
skin against skin left a trail of fire along tingling nerves. A
feeling of lassitude crept over him as he drifted into the sound
of the deep voice, following the cadence more than the words.  

     Shivering with reaction, he felt the beginnings of an
undeniable tightening in his groin. With a herculean effort, Jim
jerked himself back from the sensuality of the stroking caresses
and the hypnotic quality of the voice whispering in his ear. 
How could he give himself over to this? This was no gentle
seduction.  He was being held hostage to the desires of a
terrorist.  How could he find pleasure in being held against his
will?  But, there was no denying the gentle strokes over his
heated skin or the warmth of the body pressed tightly behind
him. 

     The denim clad groin prodded his ass.  Through the softly
worn cloth, he could feel the outline of a rigid cock, tightly
encased within the fabric.  Dropping his forehead to the
railing, Jim shuddered then relaxed into his bonds. 

     "That's it, cop.  Just relax and enjoy yourself. I've got a
list of demands.  Do you want to know what they are?" 

     Struggling to focus on the question, the sentinel muttered
his reply.  "What are your demands?  What have they got to do
with me?"  The hands moving slowly over his body never stopped
their caresses, exploring every inch of his nude torso. 

     "I want so many things.  I want world peace, an end to
clear cutting in the rain forests and the elimination of
hunger."  Jim was floating on the sensation of the constant
petting and the soft, melodious rhythm of the words.  

     "Most of all I want to make you moan, listen to you beg and
plead for me to touch you and hear you scream when you come." 
The impact of the last statement made Jim stiffen. He began
struggling against the ropes again, fighting the bar that kept
his legs spread wide apart. 

     His captor stepped back.  There was a sudden rush of air
and the sentinel jerked as a hard palm slapped his right
buttock.  The slap was repeated, this time striking his left
cheek.  The sting disappeared quickly but the reddened, heated
marks on his ass continued to throb.  

     The hand that had left the marks returned, petting away the
burn.  "I told you *not* to fight this.  You keep pulling on
those cuffs and fighting the ropes and you'll end up with
bruises.  I do *not* want you marked . . . except for the marks
that I put on you." 

     Jim released a shuddering sigh.  Trapped in darkness and
held immobile there was nothing he could do to stop his
tormentor.  As the man behind pressed close once again, he was
forced to admit to himself he wasn't even sure if he wanted to. 

     Warm hands returned to his chest stroking the smooth swell
of his pecs, nimble fingers toying with his nipples.  In a long
slow glide, the hands moved down his stomach to caress his hips. 
 Another sigh escaped Jim's lips, and he was drifting into the
sensual feeling of his captor's touch once more. 

     "That's it, let yourself go, Cop.  Let yourself feel how
good this is."  The murmur was deep and husky, the tone awakened
something hot and burning inside of him.  Then his captor moved
away again, leaving him feeling suddenly cold and lost.   

     The rustle of clothing being removed and falling to the
floor alerted him to the man's actions.  Jim dropped his head
down on the railing again, rolling his forehead against the cool
metal, trying to quiet the seething thoughts racing through his
mind.   

     The body that pressed against him was now as bare as his
own.  Jim felt as if he were trapped in the oppressive heat of
Peru again.  Warm moist breath against the back of his neck was
a vivid reminder of humid jungle air.  As the terrorist's ridged
shaft prodded his cleft, he couldn't stop the groan that
vibrated through him.  He was on fire, the burn searing his
thoughts to cinders. 

     He was too tired to fight, too exhausted to think of
anything beyond how much his body wanted - needed this touch. 
The hard metal of the handcuffs holding his hands behind his
back, the ropes holding him tight to the railing, the awkward
angle of his wide spread legs, none of it mattered anymore. The
only thing that mattered was the raging inferno of need that
burned brighter than a super nova inside of him.   

     Swallowing hard, he gasped out, "Do it then . . . just do
it." 

     A greedy mouth attacked the tender flesh at the base of his
neck.  Lips, tongue and teeth began a dance of desire, stroking
over his sweat-damp skin, sizzling across his shoulder blades,
down his spine, nipping and licking a pathway of fire over him. 
The hands that had never completely stilled massaged his
buttocks, strong fingers dipping occasionally to stroke the
sensitive, puckered opening hidden between them.   

     Jim's breathing was reduced to sharp, short pants and
gasps.  He became a creature of pure feeling, no thought, no
memory, caring only about the here and now and the fulfillment
of his driving lust. Shudders rocked his frame, sending tremors
down his long legs.  Screaming with relief, he thrust
frantically when the caressing hands finally came to rest around
his aching erection. 

     The abused railing began to creak in time with the powerful
rocking of Jim's hips.  Again and again he sought to bury his
throbbing cock into the clasp that squeezed and tormented him. 
Tickling fingers brushed along his tightened balls, making them
draw up further, preparing to empty their burden. 

     Abruptly he was left bereft again.  Throwing back his head
he howled like a wounded animal.  He needed the touch, had to
have it. . . .  Was that his voice?  Were those sobbing,
incoherent pleas coming from him?  "No, no, no, please, oh god,
don't stop now. . . ." 

     "Shhh, hush now.  I won't leave you like this.  You've been
very good.  You even screamed for me and you haven't even come
yet." 

     Jim struggled to bring his jumbled thoughts together.  It
was an impossible task, there was nothing in his mind but the
pain of his overwhelming hunger.  A hint of aloe tickled his
nostrils and he felt the unmistakable cool wetness of gel on the
finger tips that had returned to probe his cleft.  For a moment
he tightened against the intrusion, but he couldn't deny the
excruciating need that forced him to welcome this invasion of
his body. 

     The fingers left his tender opening, only to return with
more of the soothing lotion that fueled the flames within him. 
Jim fought the restraints that kept him from impaling himself
further.  Bearing down, he struggled to open to the gentle
prodding.  Finally, finally he felt the exploring digits thrust
deeper.   

     "That's it, let me in.  Open up for me."  

     The crooning in his ear was almost more than he could bear. 
All of his dials were off line, his sense of touch spinning out
of control.  The touch of the breath was like nothing he'd ever
felt before. With a hiss of warning, he tried to express how
close he was to cascading over the edge.   

     Jim yelped as his balls were grasped and firmly pulled
down.  "No, not yet.  I'm not nearly finished with you yet."  

     Trembling, he waited for what he knew was coming. He
listened to the wet sound of lotion being smoothed onto flesh. 
Anticipation flared white hot through his groin, his heart
pounding so powerfully Jim feared that it would burst from his
chest. 

     Then came the insistent push against his opening, something
hotter and wider than the fingers that had entered him.  The
hard cock that had nudged against him earlier now demanding
entrance to his body.  Jim knew he should fight, knew he should
try to struggle, even as he strained to open himself further.  

     Another scream was wrenched from Jim as his captor buried
himself balls deep, thrusting hard, pulling slowly out and
surging back again. The incredible feeling of the plunging cock
against his prostate pulled him spiraling into a zone-out.  Time
compressed in on itself, as his mind was lost to the waves of
bliss.  

     When Jim slowly became aware again, the thrusting that had
frozen his thoughts had stilled.  His hearing came back on line
registering an insistent whisper that was dragging him back to
reality.  The words had little meaning.  All he could register
was the feeling of fullness, the evidence that he still had a
thick cock buried deep inside his ass. 

     With a moan he pushed back, urging the movements that had
sent him into the zone to continue.  A gasp greeted Jim's
demanding shove and the determined thrusting began again.  His
cock was stroked in time with each plunge as his captor pounded
into him -- lean, muscular thighs slapping against his buttocks. 


     And suddenly he was there; the incredible rush of his
orgasm flowed through him and he screamed again and again.  A
shout rang in Jim's ears and the hot rush of wetness inside him
revealed he hadn't gone over the precipice alone. 

     The body that had hammered into him now slumped over his
own lax form, both of them supported by the groaning banister. 
He feared for the supports a moment and then decided he didn't
really care.  After he caught his breath he tried to speak, only
to discover his throat was so raw from his screams that he had
to swallow repeatedly in order to make a sound. 

     Finally, he was able to choke out a few words. "Christ
Chief, one of these days you're going to kill me." 

     "But what a way to go, huh?" The reply from his sated lover
was strikingly unrepentant. 

     Blair pulled slowly out of Jim's pliant body forcing
another deep groan from the sentinel.  "Man, that was so
incredibly hot, babe.  I can't believe how much I get off on
seeing you tied up and spread out for me." 

     "I can't believe I'm still tied up.  Wanna get the key now
Chief?"  Jim fought back the urge to squirm, eager for his
release.  He listened as patiently as he could while Blair
pulled his clothes back on.   

     His guide crouched down at his feet releasing the spreader
bar and cuffs.  Jim sighed with relief as he pulled his tired
legs together.  The ropes that bound his chest to the railing
loosened and dropped away.   With a muted click the handcuffs
were unlocked and removed.  He stretched, releasing all
remaining tension in his back and arms, then lifted his hands to
the blindfold.   

     "No babe, leave it on, I'll help you get your bearings." 

     Jim reluctantly dropped his hands and let Blair take his
arm, guiding him up the stairs. 

"How did you manage to get in without me knowing it, Chief?" 

     "I called the station to find out when you'd be heading
home and Simon told me you were already on your way.  All I had
to do was wait for you to get here and then hide out on the fire
escape until I heard the shower come on." 

     Jim knew he should be disturbed by the sheer ease of his
guide's deception, but he was still floating in a post coital
daze and too tired to worry about it.  Pliant and increasingly
sleepy, he let himself drop face down onto the bed.  Blair
gently moved Jim until he was centered on the wide mattress and
pulled his arms above his head.   

     "Hey Chief, in case you forgot, I'm still in this
blindfold."  There was a pointed lack of response to his query.  

     The bed dipped as his partner settled near his outstretched
arms.  Once again he felt the metallic click of a handcuff
closing around his wrist.  Jim jerked a moment too late and his
other wrist was captured too.  This pair had a longer chain and
the sentinel fumbled for a minute, determining that they were
looped through the railing at the head of the bed.   

     "Blair?" 

     "I was just thinking how hungry this has made me.  I'm
starving.  The deli across the street should be open for another
30 minutes, what do you say to a nice salami on rye, Jim?" 

     "That would be great Chief, get me loose and I'll set the
table."  Jim cocked his head as he registered the sound of Blair
slipping into his shoes.  "Come on Blair, what's the problem?"  

     He jumped slightly as his guide softly patted his ass. 
"Don't worry Jim, I'll be right back . . . you just stay there,
and think about round two." 

     "No way!  Chief. . . .  Blair. . . .  Get me loose.  Damn
it!"  Jim's last words were interrupted by the slamming of the
front door.  With a deep sigh, he dropped his head back down on
the bed realizing his captivity was far from over. 

End for now. 

**My conscience has attacked me:  I can't end this without a
gentle warning.  Never, ever, for any reason leave a playmate
alone when playing these sort of games.  That means not even
leaving the room. *Always* play safely.  ;-) 

Send comments to: virgule@mailpuppy.com