*I recently invited Juxtapose members to try their hand at writing a story using my

characters. Paddy Green, a big fan of the Juxtapose City universe, answered my call
and came up with this great story. -- Tricia

Beholden
by Paddy Green

Chapter One
The violent force of the door splintering woke Haney just
seconds before he was grabbed up from the bed and thrown to
the dirty floor. Trying to orient himself amidst the bedlam and
bright light flooding the room, Haney struggled to get up but
received a vicious blow to the ribs. A leather-booted foot
planted itself on his neck and held him in place while shouts and
the sound of cheap furniture being thrown around came from the
other rooms.
Haney knew no one in this squalid tenement well. He had come
here with an acquaintance after a small heist; the friend knew
that they could stash their stuff here and fence it slowly to avoid
suspicion. The friend had eventually moved on, but Haney had
stayed, hoping to find a home, a family of sorts, and quell even
temporarily his craving for affection. His innocent face, small
stature and friendly manner provided the thieves with a tool to
use against their intended targets. Occasionally, in return, one of
the thieves or a more-or-less coherent junkie might offer a quick
grope. Haney was desperate enough to read those crude gestures
as affection. He should have known better than to stay with this
ragtag bunch but sometimes Haney's crushing need overruled
his common sense.
Now he would pay the price for his foolishness.
He was jerked to his feet and his hands cuffed behind him.
Clothed only in thin flannel pants, Haney shivered as much from
the cool night air blowing in through the broken windows as
from fear. He waited, tense and trying to stifle his panic; too
much noise, too many voices, the scent of blood in the air.
Experience had taught him to remain quiet and docile until
someone in authority showed up, then try to talk his way out of
trouble. These officers were somehow different from the usual
street patrol, hard and frightening. Haney's internal alarms were
screaming.
He shifted his head slightly. A Juxtapose City PD patch on the
officer's huge bicep was at eye level. The man noticed Haney's
movement, reached out for a handful of Haney's shaggy blond
hair and jerked his head back. The movement aggravated the
sharp ache in his ribs and made Haney gasp. "Pretty, ain't he?"
the officer asked the other two black-clad men. "Think he'll get
off easy?"
They all laughed unpleasantly. Haney kept his eyes downcast
and shivered again. The officer's leather-gloved hand slid down
Haney's slim chest and delved under the waistband of his
pajamas. "Oh, yes, the Lieutenant is going to be very interested
in this one." Haney jerked away and earned a blow to the head
that knocked him to his knees. "Stay there, you punk, you might
as well get used to it," snarled the officer, drawing back his fist
for another blow.
"Knock it off, McNeill." A new JC officer. "The Lieutenant
wants you to start processing the suspects. I'll stay with this one
here."
Haney didn't even look up at the latest arrival, head still reeling
from the blow. In his experience, the police did whatever they
wanted without fear of reprisal. Where would you go to
complain? If they wanted to run their hands over his slender
body and poke and squeeze, it was going to happen. He could
make it easy or hard but he couldn't make it stop.
Haney had been in and out of scrapes with the law since running
away from his last foster home three years ago. His baby face
and open manner had convinced social workers and police
officers alike that he was innocent, just in the wrong place at the
wrong time. He would promise not stray again if given another
chance. Then Haney would share his fantasy world of having a
loving family, a safe home and a promising future, make it
sound real; either they didn't care or were too busy to check.
Those who hesitated might be bought off with thrusting against
Haney's body in their small offices or quick hand-job in the
patrol car. Haney's body was as much a survival tool as his
quick hands and fleet feet.
But Haney was 17 now and no longer considered a juvenile.
Being in this tenement of fugitives, drugs and stolen property
was a felony. No amount of charm and affability was going to
get him out of this mess. Whatever these officers wanted him to
do was going to hurt. Tears threatened and he made an effort to
blink them back. He was so tired of running and hiding. He just
wanted to be safe, to be loved, to have someone care for him.
"The boss is ready for him," called someone from the hallway.
The JC officer pulled Haney up by his arm and marched him out
down the hall. Haney caught a glimpse of the others kneeling
against the wall, hands cuffed, as officers readied them for
transport. Not a word from any of them. How could Haney have
ever thought of them as friends? He was unceremoniously
shoved into the filthy kitchen, now lit only with a small table
lamp.
"Please sit down."
Haney sought out the voice. A large man in a JC uniform sat on
the counter. He pointed at the small, straight-back chair facing
him. Haney approached it cautiously, the alarms in his mind still
screaming. Not good to be alone in the dark with this man; this
is where payment would be extracted.
But the man's voice was calm and soothing, the dim glow of the
lamp a welcomed relief from the bright lights and overpowering
cacophony of a few minutes before. "So, here you are, in a
terrible situation. You're in big trouble, aren't you?"
Haney nodded, unsure where this was going.
"You seem like a nice young man, not the sort to be mixed up in
this mess," continued the man in his soft, gentle voice.
Haney nodded again, not daring to trust.
"Let me help you. Tell me your name and where your family is
and I'll take you to them instead of to jail tonight and Hangway
tomorrow. Can you do that?"
Well, this is it then, Haney thought to himself, do I try to bullshit
my way out of this, or go ahead and tell the truth and see what
happens? They'll find out soon enough, I guess. Could this man
be sincere? Would he help? Haney really didn't have an option.
"My name is Haney Wilkes, sir," he began, counting on his
smile and his manners to ease the way. "I have no family and
was recently released from my foster home." Well, "released"
might be stretching the truth. Haney was unwilling to reveal just
yet that his mother died a Bliss junkie, his father was long gone,
and most of his foster homes had been money-making
propositions where Haney's teenage appetite cut into the profits.
No one would miss him, no one would come looking for him, no
one would bail him out of this trouble.
"All alone, then, are you?" the man asked, concern coloring his
voice. "Seems a shame to send you off to Hangway with those
big men and condemn you to a brutal life when you have so
much more to offer."
Hope tentatively rose in Haney's heart.
"I could help you, Haney, help you now and help you later.
Would you like that? I could give you a home and some
education, then I'll make sure you have a respectable job. You
wouldn't have to live this way any more. Does that sound good
to you?"
Haney weighed the meager options for a few seconds. Another
foster house or Hangway? No contest, really. Maybe it wouldn't
be so bad or maybe he could just run away again later.
The man jumped down off the counter and closed the space
between them. His hand rested on Haney's shoulder, then lifted
his chin and caressed his jaw. For the first time, Haney got a
good look at his new benefactor. Dark blue eyes crinkled at the
corners as the man smiled at him. He pulled Haney to his feet
and hugged him close, slowing Haney's shivers.
"You have no family, so now you belong to me," he murmured.
"You're mine."
And Haney, swamped by his need for love, to belong to
someone, nodded as unbidden tears welled up and slid down his
cheeks. A home? An education? A job? Gratitude swelled in his
heart for this man. He blindly followed the man out to the
waiting squad car, but he would have followed him anywhere.
Chapter Two
It was late when he and the lieutenant ("You can call me Uncle
Dicky") arrived at the big house at the edge of the city. Not a
home but an orphanage, it was like an orphanage, Haney
decided, but still, it wasn't Hangway. A quick supper in the
kitchen, then Haney was ushered into a room containing eight
beds. Four boys slept undisturbed in the beds nearest the door.
"You'll sleep here, Haney," Uncle Dicky guided him to a bed at
the back of the room. A blond boy stirred restlessly in the next
bed, but didn't wake.
"I'll be back to check on you in a couple of days," Uncle Dicky
told Haney. "You do as you're told and all will be well. No
running off, right? Because you know the penalty for that, don't
you?"
Haney quickly denied that he would ever run off and promised
to do his best to repay Uncle Dicky's kindness.
"You belong to me now, just remember that." And he was gone.
Haney lay there for a few moments. Full stomach, clean sheets,
quiet room. The promise of more of the same. The officer hadn't
gone for the quick feel or forced himself down Haney's throat;
really hadn't been anything but kind. Maybe his luck was
changing after all. For the first time in years, Haney allowed
himself a little hope when thinking of his future.
In the morning, Haney joined the other boys in a quiet line for
breakfast, followed by communal showers and housekeeping
chores. Haney did his best to fit in, tamping down his usual habit
of talking too much, knowing that was the first rule of survival
in a new place: call no attention to yourself.
Classes, all lectures, were held on the first floor, attended by
about a dozen boys of approximately Haney's age and taught by
two older men. Veteran officers, Haney guessed, if the emphasis
on military history and police operations was any indication.
After a nourishing lunch, the afternoon was spent in physical
training, hard and long and lots of it. Supper, study, then
showers again, and lights out.
Not so bad, Haney thought, a lot better than the alternative,
easing his body down onto the bed and squirming to find a
comfortable position. Be obedient, respectful and quiet, and in
return you're safe, warm, well-fed, with a future. Not a bad trade
at all, in light of what Haney had experienced before.
The other four boys in his room were not unfriendly, smiling a
bit at Haney, but he was excluded from the whispered
conversations after the lights went out. They also ignored the
blond boy, who in turn spoke to no one. No matter, Haney told
himself, acceptance would come in time. His heart warmed a bit,
thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was the family he had
wanted for so long.
It was not until the twelfth day that Uncle Dicky returned.
Haney was eager to see his savior again, to thank him for
everything. To say how happy he was that he finally belonged
somewhere, actually had a home with adults who cared if he was
safe. Free from worry, well-fed, with plenty of fresh air and
exercise, Haney was fast shedding his old life as a scared street
rat.
But supper was a subdued affair amongst the boys in the
kitchen; all adults were in the formal dining room. There was
some hint of tension in the air and Haney wished he could ask
someone about it. Finally, in the showers, under the covering
sounds of water, Haney worked up the courage to whisper to
Bee, the boy who slept in the bed nearest his own.
Pushing his long blond hair off his face, Bee fixed his light blue
eyes on Haney's face. "Don't you know? We're Uncle Dicky's
boys."
Haney shook his head in confusion. "Why is that a bad thing?"
he asked. "He's good to us and this is a great place to live
and...".
"Have you been to the study yet?" Bee interrupted, bitterness
tingeing his voice. "Once you've been there, you'll know what I
know: there's no escape from here. It's like a good kind of
prison, enough food and soft beds and all, but you know we all
belong to him and it's a prison just the same. You're trapped, all
you can hope for is that he finds you worthy of training, because
then you can join the JC police force and get out of here."
All said in such a rush with the water pounding down, that
Haney wasn't sure if he caught it all. He certainly didn't
understand it.
It was later, after lights outs, that they came for Bee. Haney
watched through slitted eyes as one of the instructors roughly
shook Bee's shoulder, then jerked him to his feet.
"The lieutenant wants you. Here, get dressed in your uniform.
He's on his way."
Fear and panic, then resignation, flitted across Bee's face. He
reached for the uniform the men had dropped on his bed. His
eyes met Haney's. "Go to sleep," he whispered, almost a plea.
"Go back to sleep."
Uncle Dicky's step sounded at the door. He strode the length of
the room to Bee's bed and sat down. "Hurry, my boy. I don't like
to be late."
Bee slid his pajama bottoms off and reached for the uniform
trousers, but Uncle Dicky stayed his hand, forgetting his desire
for punctuality. "Let me look at you a minute, Bee. You look
good. The instructors are pleased with you; you follow orders
well. That makes me happy."
The man ran his hand up Bee's arm, fondled his shoulders, then
glided over Bee's chest. "You're my best boy, Bee, my favorite."
He stood and pressed Bee close, running his hands over Bee's
back and down, cupping his ass and pulling him tight. "My
pretty boy." One hand moved between them and Bee jerked and
gasped, then was still. Uncle Dicky whispered something, then
gave Bee a little shove towards his clothes.
Bee turned and dressed quickly. Haney, trying to process what
he had just witnessed, stared at the transformation. Gone was the
baby-faced blond and in his place stood a junior JC police
officer. Dark blue uniform, crisp, white shirt, fitted jacket. A
miniature Uncle Dicky.
Through his affection-starved prism, Haney saw only Uncle
Dicky's love and his pride in Bee; his actions and words those of
an affectionate father towards his son. Haney longed with his
whole heart to stand with Bee, to be one of Uncle Dicky's best
boys, to dress in the JCPD uniform. This is what he had been
searching for all his life: a caring father and a bright future. He
fell peacefully to sleep and dreamt happy dreams.
A slight noise nudged Haney's eyes open. In the near darkness,
he could see that Bee had returned and was undressing. The only
sounds were Bee's deep breaths, almost sobs. He climbed
awkwardly into bed and buried his head under the pillows.
Haney drifted back to sleep.
Chapter Three
Uncle Dicky returned the next night and took Bee, dressed again
in his uniform, away right after supper. Haney waited in the dark
for Bee to return, determined to ask where he went and why, and
to find out how he, Haney, could go, too. Bee didn't return that
night. Nor the next.
On the third night, it was Bee bumping into the edge of his bed
that awoke Haney. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat
up, but his questions died in his throat. Bee jerked his shirt off,
popping a couple of buttons. His chest heaved and he stumbled
as he toed off a shoe, falling to his knees.
Haney didn't know what was wrong, but he was an expert in
recognizing someone in need. "Bee," he whispered. "Bee!"
Bee turned and looked at him blankly. Haney pulled back his
covers and moved to the far edge of his narrow bed. Bee looked
at the bed, glanced at Haney, then his face crumbled and he
crawled blindly across the short space.
Haney pulled the bigger boy into a comfortable position against
his chest and eased the blankets over them. Shudders ran
through Bee's body as he struggled to regain his equilibrium,
sought to quiet his ragged breathing. Haney stroked his back and
murmured gentle sounds in Bee's ear, words he thought a mother
might say to comfort her child. Slowly, slowly, Bee relaxed,
took a few more shuddering breathes, then tentatively put his
arm around Haney.
"Go to sleep," Haney soothed. "I'll be right here all night. You're
safe now."
In the early morning hours, Bee returned to his own bed, but not
before he hugged Haney tightly and whispered, "thank you."
Everything was routine until lunch time. Uncle Dicky appeared
at the head of the table, causing audible gasps of surprise from
several of the boys. He never visited during the day. Haney
chanced a quick glance at Bee. His face had gone white and his
body was rigid. Haney turned back to Uncle Dicky and flinched
at the angry look there.
"There's a problem that needs correcting here," Uncle Dicky
began sternly. "I try to provide you boys with a good home, a
safe place, but there are some who take my efforts for granted.
Who don't show appreciation for my good intentions. Who say
no to my simple requests. That kind of attitude needs
adjustment."
Bee was visibly shaking now. His hair fell over his face and his
shoulders hunched up near his ears.
"Mr Politano, please assemble the boys in the courtyard in ten
minutes," Uncle Dicky said curtly, then turned on his heel and
marched out of the room.
The two instructors barked a few orders and the boys cleared the
table and fell into two lines. They marched down the hallway
and waited by the big doors to the courtyard. Haney started to
turn his head to look for Bee but was quickly grabbed. "Eyes
forward!"
They waited a few more minutes in the cool, dim hallway, then
the doors were opened and they marched in lock step out into
the courtyard. Haney's stomach clenched and he nearly
stumbled. Bee was already there, stripped to the waist, arms
bound to the flag pole, shivering in the cool spring breeze.
Uncle Dicky stood beside Bee, idly stroking his back. "This is
harsh, I know," he explained to the group, "but Bee has been
disobedient and now must pay the consequences."
He removed his belt slowly, staring at each of the boys in turn.
He slapped the folded belt against his hand twice, then turned
toward Bee.
"Bee, I love you. You're my pretty boy." Bee trembled visibly.
"You will learn from this and be better for it. Do you
understand?"
A choked sob, then Bee barely nodded.
Uncle Dicky raised the belt and brought it down harshly across
Bee's shoulders. A red stripe appeared immediately. Uncle
Dicky drew back his arm again and began laying broad strokes
up and down Bee's back. Bee's knees buckled once but he
recovered. There was no sound in the courtyard but Uncle
Dicky's harsh breaths and the slap of the belt against Bee's
tanned skin.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Haney, lunch roiling
unpleasantly in his stomach, Uncle Dicky stopped. Everyone
stood under the weak sun, waiting. Uncle Dicky slowly put his
belt back on and unlocked Bee's cuffs. He turned Bee to face the
boys, putting his arm around Bee's shoulders, mindless of the
wince as his rough uniform fabric brushed against abraded skin.
"You know I love you, don't you, Bee?"
In a daze, Bee slowly lifted his eyes up and focused at a spot in
the distance.
"Bee, I asked you a question. You know I did this out of love."
Haney clenched his teeth, willing Bee to agree, nod, blink,
anything to end this intense moment. Bee dipped his head and
Haney let out his breath.
"Do you have something to say to your brothers, Bee?"
Bee blinked, trying to remember something that was eluding
him. The pain caused by Uncle Dicky's tight squeeze of his
shoulders and hand rubbing down his back seemed to focus
Bee's mind.
"I apologize," Bee's voice was shaky and the words came out in
a rush. "I hope the witnessing of my correction will atone for my
disobedience."
"And...?" Uncle Dicky prompted.
"And...," Bee turned his eyes toward the man, searching his face
for a clue. Uncle Dicky simply stared down at Bee.
Then, as though he was surrendering the last of himself, Bee
gave the right answer by rote, "I love you, Uncle Dicky. Thank
you for showing me that you care."
"There," Uncle Dicky said soothingly, "it's all over now, Bee.
You did well. You're still my pretty boy."
He looked out again at the assembled group. "You can all
resume your regular activities. Bee's coming with me."
The day proceeded as usual: physical training, supper and
studies. Bee did not appear for any of it. As he was finishing up
his shower, Haney saw Bee enter the locker room. The other
boys first stared at him, then looked away and finished up
quickly. Bee looked neither left nor right, just stepped into the
shower. Haney winced at the sight of his back, still red and
enflamed.
For the first time, Haney ignored his own nearly unquenchable
desire to be loved, his constant search for someone to care for
him. Something shifted and reformed in his heart. In an instant,
he became the very person he was hoping to find: the one to
reach out and enclose a lonely boy in a warm embrace.
He was still awake when Bee crept silently into the dark room.
He waited while Bee moved stiffly to his bed, then stood quickly
and closed the gap between them. Bee swung around in the dark
and Haney could feel him actually flinch.
"Bee, it's OK. It's just me." He cupped Bee's face gently and
waited till the blue eyes focused on him. "I have something to
make you feel better." Haney grabbed a t-shirt off the foot of his
bed. "Here," he whispered, "put this on."
Bee moved like an automaton, doing as he was told without
question. He put up his arms and Haney slipped the t-shirt over
his head and smoothed it down. Bee looked puzzled at first, then
his eyes widened. "It's cool, so cool," he breathed. "Feels good."
Haney had wet the back of the t-shirt, hoping that it would
dampen the heat of Bee's abused shoulders and back, and he was
thrilled that he had finally gotten a response from the blond boy.
A small smile was quickly followed by a slight shiver.
What was he thinking? Of course Bee would be cold. Only his
back was hot and the wet t-shirt must be leeching any residual
warmth from the rest of his body. Haney quickly maneuvered
the bigger boy into his bed, then pulled the covers over both of
them. Bee pressed against Haney's chest; warm breath misted
over his throat. Haney couldn't remember a happier time.
"Haney," came Bee's sleepy voice, "thank you for doing this, but
why?"
Haney thought for a long moment. "I'll tell you if you tell me
where you go with Uncle Dicky."
Bee stiffened and pulled away. "No, never."
"I did this because you needed it." That came out almost before
Haney could formulate the thought in his mind, but it was
exactly what he meant. "Because I'm lonely and think you are
too. Because I have no one, and neither do you, right? We need
each other; we'll make our own family."
Silence.
Then Bee began to cry, quietly, his face buried Haney's neck.
Haney was at a loss, not sure where or even how to hold Bee.
His natural inclination was to put his arms around Bee's back
and pull him close but that wasn't possible. He finally opted to
cradle Bee's head with one hand and put the other on his hip.
Bee snuffled and moved even closer. Later he pushed off
Haney's chest a little. "You're all wet," he smiled, tears still
clinging to his lashes.
Haney pulled the edge of the sheet over and wiped himself off,
then gently placed Bee's head back on his chest, positioning
Bee's ear right over his heart. Bee nestled into the warm, solid
body and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"I'll tell you tomorrow," he promised.
When morning came, there was, of course, no time to talk. Their
day proceeded as usual, as though Uncle Dicky did not exist.
Classes, lunch, training, supper, study time, showers. That night,
Bee came to his bed, but just shook his head at Haney's
questions.
And so it went.
For a week, there was a comforting routine to their days. During
the day, Bee would quickly glance at Haney and give a small
smile, and Haney would float through the next few hours on
sheer happiness. He loved Bee, as well as he knew how to love,
and felt loved in return.
In class and throughout the training sessions, the instructors
were tough and unyielding, the boys expected to forego comfort
or friendship, needing just the camaraderie of their brother
recruits. Only at night could Haney indulge his softer side. He
and Bee held each other under the cover of darkness.
Bee continued to refuse to answer his questions about Uncle
Dicky and gradually, Haney stopped asking. He found himself
enjoying the feel of Bee's body against his. In fact, he often had
to angle his hips away from Bee's warmth, for fear his arousal
would repel Bee and cost him his first true friend.
After Bee fell asleep, holding onto Haney as though he might
drown in his dreams, Haney would lay there feeling happy but
unfulfilled. Oh, Haney knew what to do. He had seen and done
plenty in his years on the streets, but he couldn't reconcile those
furtive, empty acts done in alleys or up against the wall, with his
Bee. And Bee showed no interest beyond holding Haney at
night.
Chapter Four
It was nearly a week later when they came for him. He was
asleep and at first thought Bee had come to his bed, so he simply
clasped the hand on his shoulder. But it gripped him tightly and
another clapped something soft and sickly-sweet smelling over
his mouth. Haney had time over for a quick glance at Bee, in his
own bed, with Mr Politano standing beside him. Why are your
eyes filled with tears? Haney wondered, then the world went
black.
He came to, head aching slightly, in a totally dark room. Voices.
Must be in another room, as they were muted. He moved to
stretch and get out of bed, only to find his arms and legs
wouldn't work. He drifted off.
Awake again. The voices were closer, although Haney was still
too tired too something to get up.
"Does well in studies, then? And the physical training? He
sounds promising.... We'll see how he does with the rest of it."
Haney recognized the voice. Uncle Dicky was talking, talking
about him. He was doing well, he was promising! Maybe things
were looking up for him after all. He simply had to get off this
bed and out of this dark room to tell Uncle Dicky that he was
ready for more. He did want to be part of the JC police force, to
make something of himself; the little street rat would become
someone respectable.
He made an effort to clear his head, gather his strength and get
off the bed. Three revelations hit Haney at once: he was
blindfolded, he was naked, and he was strapped to the bed. His
legs were spread and attached to each post of the bed, he
surmised, and his hands were bound together in handcuffs and
pulled tight over his head.
Sheer panic set in out and he thrashed against the restraints,
calling out to Uncle Dicky for help. Almost immediately, a large
hand slapped down over his mouth and nose, cutting off Haney's
oxygen and racheting up his panic to a near unbearable level.
"Do not move. Do not make a sound. Do you understand me?"
Haney nodded, his world crashing in around him. Weeks of
good food, security, a home, were forgotten as he was instantly
transported back to his previous life. He should run, should hide.
They were coming for him and it was going to hurt. He began to
shake.
"Thank you, Mr Brown, I'll take it from here." Uncle Dicky's
voice. Haney relaxed slightly. This was some kind of mistake
and Uncle Dicky would take care of him, just like back in the
tenement.
Mr Brown left the study, closing the door behind him. Haney lay
there, waiting. He felt Uncle Dicky sitting down next to him on
the bed.
"Haney," he murmured, caressing Haney's cheek but making no
effort to remove the blindfold. "Haney, have I done everything I
promised you? Do you have a good home here? Are you getting
a good education? Are you safe?"
Haney nodded, not yet trusting his voice, but his panic was
subsiding.
"Well, here's your chance to show me that you appreciate it. And
if you're really grateful, then maybe you can wear a JCPD
uniform like Bee." Uncle Dicky's voice was soothing and warm.
"Would you like that? I know you saw Bee all dressed up. He's a
pretty boy, isn't he?"
Haney nodded again.
"You could be my pretty boy, too, Haney," Uncle Dicky
continued. "Show me that you love me."
And with that, the kaleidoscope of Haney's emotions shifted and
coalesced into a clear picture. This kind of bargain was familiar
to Haney: trade your body for what you want. Haney had done it
himself, handed over a stolen trinket for a few minutes of
closeness, allowed himself to be pawed and mauled for a place
to stay for the night, took a man in his mouth in order to be set
free. His happiness dropped a few notches. Uncle Dicky, his
savior, turned out to be not so different from all the others.
He stiffened for a moment, reflex to run or fight kicking in.
Uncle Dicky's hand slid to his throat and tightened slightly as a
warning. In the space of two breaths, Haney weighed what he
had here Bee, a home, a future against the alternative.
Despair blackened his soul. Duped again by those in power.
Nothing but the surroundings had changed; he was going to pay
with his body, as always.
But if Uncle Dicky could be trusted, and that was taking a big
chance, this might be different. He could trade his body for
something lasting: he could become a JCPD officer.... Then he
would take Bee out of here. They could be together in a truly
safe place, just the two of them, and he'd be a different kind of
officer: an honorable one, one who didn't take advantage of
scared young boys....
Haney made his decision. Out of habit, he knew just what to do.
He let his mind go blank and his body became pliant. He jumped
when Uncle Dicky's hands ran lightly over his collarbone but
then sank down into submissiveness again. Uncle Dicky's large
hands explored his arms, his biceps, his throat, down to his
chest. One hand stayed there, gently rubbing Haney's nipples,
while the other hand strayed over his ribs, his stomach, down to
his cock.
"Lovely, Haney, you are truly lovely," Uncle Dicky purred.
"Look how responsive you are."
Uncle Dicky's hands continued to explore, no place was too
private, rubbing and pinching and stroking. He was good,
experienced, knew just how to elicit gasps and moans and
shudders. Haney, being young, too long without release, and
recently so tempted by a blond-haired boy, couldn't resist for
long. Uncle Dicky brought him to full, quivering hardness in no
time.
Mind detached from what was happening, Haney still blushed at
his body's reactions and struggled for some self-control, not to
give it up too easily. But Uncle Dicky was so skilled, the contest
so unequal, that finally Haney conceded and surrendered to his
shameful enjoyment.
Uncle Dicky chuckled and resumed his physical inventory.
Down between Haney's spread thighs, to his calves and even the
sensitive arch of his instep. Back up over Haney's smooth
flanks, up his heaving rib cage, and finally the large man cupped
his face. By then, Haney was shuddering, frantic for more.
"You belong to me," Uncle Dicky reminded him. "You are
mine."
"Yes, yes," Haney cried. "I am yours." Anything to relieve this
desperate ache.
He reached again between Haney's outspread thighs and grasped
his length. Stroking soft and slow at first, then alternating with a
firm, fast rhythm, he soon had Haney again writhing and
twisting in his restraints. A pinch of his nipples threatened to
bring Haney to climax, but then all movement stopped.
Haney panted, thrusting his hips up, begging for any amount of
friction to relieve his intense need. "Please," he moaned,
"please."
Uncle Dicky waited until Haney's breathing slowed. "Oh, we'll
finish, all right, but there are a few things you need to know.
Tonight is your first lesson in obedience to me. If you are good
and show me you understand, then we'll proceed. You will earn
the privilege of wearing the JCPD uniform and you may begin
training with me."
Haney's lust-fogged mind cleared at this.
"Do you understand? Any resistance, any rebellion, and you will
be beaten like Bee was. Displease me a second time and you'll
be on your way to Hangway."
That got his attention. "I want to be on the force," Haney
whispered. "I'll do anything."
"Good," Uncle Dicky said, voice warm with approval. He
reached down to unfasten the straps from Haney's ankles and
stripped the blindfold from his eyes, then resumed tantalizing
Haney to full, aching arousal.
Haney drew up his knees and pushed his heels into the bed for
purchase. His hips flexed off the bed as he thrust his cock into
Uncle Dicky's hand, relishing the feel of impending release. It
had been so long and never this good. He couldn't stop himself,
was humiliated at his lack of control, embarrassed at his urgent
need.
Uncle Dicky stopped only long enough to unbuckle his belt,
unzip his pants and draw out his own hard cock, dripping from
the tip already. "Look what you've done to me, Haney," he said,
"Look how hard I am for you."
Haney wondered how he was to pleasure Uncle Dicky with his
hands still bound. He gave a pretty good hand-job, he thought,
not so excited about taking it in his mouth, but he would for the
chance to join JCPD and to save his Bee.
Uncle Dicky moved over him so that his cock was over Haney's
chin. Haney opened his mouth, knowing that the angle was
wrong but determined to make Uncle Dicky happy. Uncle Dicky
chuckled, dipped his length in Haney's mouth just long enough
for Haney to lap up the fluid dripping from the tip, then
withdrew.
"This is mine," he said, touching his cock to Haney's forehead,
dragging his heavy balls over Haney's mouth and nose. "And
these are mine," rubbing Haney's lips with the wet tip. "And
this," dragging his length down Haney's throat. Everywhere he
touched left slick trails of pre-cum.
Uncle Dicky shifted down Haney's body, slid the hard head of
his cock over Haney's nipples, one at a time. "These are mine,"
and smiled at the surge of Haney's body against the weight of
his body and the handcuffs. "Feels good, doesn't it, my pretty
boy?"
Haney moaned. It was so good. He felt sick, but his body was
demanding an outlet for his carefully tamped-down urges and
Uncle Dicky's touch had ignited them.
By the time Uncle Dicky was sitting on his thighs, rubbing their
erections together, having anointed every part of Haney's body,
his whole life was centered on his groin. Never, ever had he felt
like this. His hands clenched and opened in the handcuffs, his
heart was pounding through his chest and his hips were thrusting
spasmodically.
"Nobody touches my pretty boy unless I say so," Uncle Dicky
said in a low voice. "Do you hear me, Haney? Nobody touches
you without asking me first."
Haney would have agreed to anything at the moment; his young
body was at its limit, pleasure was becoming pain. Uncle Dicky
grabbed his cock and stroked up to the head, then down to the
root with a practiced hand, firm and fast. Haney's balls tightened
and he hardly had time to take a deep breath when he felt
himself come violently, pearly essence shooting up nearly to his
chest. He groaned as he bucked up hard again and again against
the hand that gripped him, straining to empty himself. The
pleasure/pain was so great, he felt faint. Panted. Struggled to
come down.
Uncle Dicky was still holding him, smiling down at him. "So
beautiful, so very beautiful, Haney. You like this, don't you? Not
like some of the others."
He reached up and ran his hand over Haney's stomach, scooping
up some of the fluid and coating his cock with it, eyes closed in
pleasure. Haney stirred a little uneasily; he guessed that Uncle
Dicky wouldn't be satisfied now with anything less than
claiming him fully, and he hadn't ever gone this far before.
"Relax, Haney. You've done well so far. You make me happy."
Uncle Dicky nudged Haney's legs further apart and knelt
between them. "Have you done this before, Haney? Have you let
anyone in?"
Haney swallowed hard, chanced a glance at Uncle Dicky's face,
then lowered his eyes and shook his head.
"Jesus." Uncle Dicky held himself tightly for a moment and took
a deep breath. "I wouldn't have guessed."
He slicked his fingers on Haney's stomach again. One hand
grabbed Haney's left thigh and pushed it up. He slid his other
hand down Haney's body, rubbing his flaccid cock, then his
softened testicles on the way, then dove in between Haney's
buttocks. His lubricated fingers circled Haney's opening,
stroking it gently, pushing against it.
He leaned over Haney, panting, and breathed in his ear. "Open
for me, Haney. Open," he commanded.
Haney struggled to comply but fear was making him tense.
Uncle Dicky slid one cool finger into him and Haney lifted off
the bed as best he could, trying to evade the intruder. But the
finger stayed, moving gently in circles. Haney tried to adjust. He
breathed easier when Uncle Dicky withdrew, only to cry out as
two fingers strained to push their way in.
"No, no," Haney whispered. "No, it hurts."
"Not for long, pretty boy. Make your Uncle Dicky happy and
relax. This is going to happen. It can be easy or it can be
difficult, but it's going to happen. You belong to me."
There was a moment of silence, broken only the harsh sound of
breathing: Uncle Dicky trying to control his arousal, Haney
trying to accommodate two fingers and adjust to the third.
Uncle Dicky groaned with undisguised lust. "So tight, so hot,
and... god, so tight."
He removed his fingers, wiped them on the sheets, lubricated
himself one more time with the remaining seed on Haney's
stomach, then positioned his large head at the entrance to
Haney's body. With a leg leveraged over Uncle Dicky's left
shoulder, Haney was in no position to do more than angle his
body for slight comfort.
"Look at me, Haney. I want to watch you."
Haney dragged his eyes up to Uncle Dicky's face, red with a
slick sheen of sweat. His eyes flickered as his tight ring of
muscle was first breached. But now Uncle Dicky had hoisted his
right leg up and Haney's slim thighs were nearly touching his
own shoulders. With the larger man's weigh pressing down,
Haney was just inches from Uncle Dicky's face. They both
remained still, panting, while Uncle Dicky waited for Haney to
adjust to his width.
He then began to move, slowly at first, gasping at the heat and
friction of Haney's tight passage. Haney's tense, quivering
muscles seemed to excite him further. Haney watched the
emotions lust, pleasure, possession play across Uncle
Dicky's face; felt himself consumed, a vessel for Uncle Dicky's
lust, and suddenly understood why it was called "being taken."
Something was being taken from Haney: control over his body,
the opportunity to say yes or no to this most intimate act, the
chance to share his first time with someone of his own choosing.
In moments, Uncle Dicky's thrusting grew harder and more
erratic. His breath came in great, large gasps, and Haney felt as
though he was being crushed. Uncle Dicky froze, his cock
seemed swell, then Haney felt the hot splash of cum as Uncle
Dicky rammed into him once, twice, and after the third time,
was still.
An eternity of waiting, then Uncle Dicky rolled to the side,
pulling out of Haney roughly. "You were very good, my boy,
very good. Uncle Dicky's very pleased with you tonight."
Haney tried to smile but grimaced instead. Muscles in his thighs
ached, his ass hurt abominably, his sense of self was violated,
but he was determined to confirm his end of the bargain.
"Uncle Dicky, do I get the JCPD uniform? May I begin
training?"
It was a good time to ask. Uncle Dicky was mellow, relaxed,
agreeable. "Yes, my pretty boy, I'll bring your uniform next time
I come. Will you be glad to see me? Will you remember what
your Uncle's done for you?"
"I will always be grateful to you, sir." Haney sincerely hoped he
would not be required to prove it each time Uncle Dicky arrived
at the home.
"Good boy." Uncle Dicky reached over and unlocked the cuffs,
gave Haney a few minutes to massage feeling back into his arms
and hands, then said, "Get your clothes on and get back to bed.
Don't wake the others."
Haney made haste to comply.
Chapter Five
Haney made his way back upstairs, stopping in the locker room
to clean himself. Navigating the length of the darkened
bedroom, he stripped off his pajama pants and found a clean
pair. It seemed like days since he left his warm bed, but it had
been only a couple of hours. He sank down into his pillow, tried
to make some sense of what had just happened but found the
swirl of emotions too jumbled to organize. He closed his eyes.
"Haney?"
Haney winced. If there was ever one night he wished Bee
wouldn't wake, it was tonight. Bee shouldn't be contaminated
with Uncle Dicky's scent lingering on Haney's skin; Bee was
better than that.
"Haney?"
He wanted to cry, to run, to hide. Just when he thought his life
was changed for the better, it crashed in on him. Haney
struggled to resist the feeling that he was just getting what he
deserved, that he was nothing and should expect nothing. He
couldn't even summon up the energy to be strong for another
scared boy.
"Haney?"
Bee would not be denied. He silently came to Haney's bed,
pulled the covers back and nudged Haney's body until there was
room for him to crawl in. Haney lay on his back, staring at the
ceiling, not answering.
"Are you OK? I was so worried. I know...," Bee choked slightly
on the words, "I know what happens when they come for you."
A deep breath. "I hate him. I hate him so much. And now I hate
him more for what he's done to you."
Haney turned toward Bee, saw the concern, the love, the pain in
his eyes. Bee slowly put his hand on Haney's shoulder, then
dropped it.
"I won't touch you. You probably don't want to ever be touched
again. I know that's how I feel." Bee shook his head. "Well, not
what we do, but what he does, I hate. I love hugging you, but
once I'm out of here, I'll never allow anyone to touch me that
way again."
From the depths of his misery, Haney had to smile to himself.
Bee had no idea what Haney had done to survive. What he had
just experienced was only the latest in a long line of shameful
acts. But it was one with a purpose, a hope for the future. And if
Haney had his way, he'd never let Uncle Dicky touch Bee again,
starting now. Haney could take it, could close his mind off and
just get through it, but Bee was better than that.
Getting no response from Haney, Bee's voice got shaky, but he
plowed ahead. "I'm almost 18. Uncle Dicky has promised me a
place on the force. I'll come back for you, Haney. He'll find
someone else like us, with no family and nowhere to go. He'll
concentrate on the new guy and forget all about us. I've seen it
happen." A strangled breath, almost a sob. "It happened with
me. I took someone's place. He'll move on from us, then we can
leave here and never, ever have to depend on anyone else again.
We can be a family, just like you said."
Haney rolled to his side and brought Bee into a full body
embrace. Warm skin, gently beating heart, caring concern. How
could Bee ever think this was the same kind of touch that he had
just experienced with Uncle Dicky. And Uncle Dicky couldn't
take this from him not what he and Bee had discovered
together.
His resolve suddenly reappeared, stronger than ever. He would
do whatever it took to get the training, to get out of here, to
never be dependent on anyone's favor again. And he would take
Bee with him.
"Uncle Dicky's promised me, too," Haney whispered. Bee's eyes
widened. "He's bringing me a uniform next time. We'll do this
together, Bee, we'll be different kind of cops, not like him."
Haney would have moved heaven and earth for that smile.
"We will be together, Bee," he promised, smiling now himself.
"Here and after we leave here and on the force. We are our own
family."
Bee nearly laughed out loud before he caught himself and buried
his head in Haney's shoulder, arms clasping him tightly. "I love
you, Haney. I wouldn't have made it here much longer without
you."
Haney smiled, too. This would be OK. He made a solemn
promise to himself and to Bee. They would get out of here and
be together. Bee squeezed his hand.
And one more promise, Haney thought to himself: I'll show you
the difference between being taken and being loved. I will teach
you just how good touching can be.

The End

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