Chapter 1 Part 1 from 2 Author: Alex Knight Gareth Prince was ready for the best summer of his life. To top it all off, his parents and younger sister, Ansleigh, were in Sweden for the next couple months where his father was working on a project.
Right now, Gareth was stretched out on one of the lounge chairs perched on the deck overlooking their infinity-edge pool. Before graduating, Gareth had been both quarterback of the football team and a lead swimmer on the Wolverton High School Aquatic Team. His body was chiseled and he kept it hairless because he intended to keep swimming once he got to Georgia Tech in the fall. Though he was a jock and quite popular, Gareth was one of those guys who could get along with anyone and he was well-liked by just about everybody.
While most of his close friends were fellow jocks, he had at least one friend in every clique. One of those friends, Marshall Clancy, was coming to meet him in a few minutes. He was the quintessential nerd and a lot of other people picked on him, but Gareth had always treated him well because their mothers were friends. Marshall was on his way over because he wanted to talk to Gareth about an opportunity to make some extra cash over the summer.
Gareth heard a car pull into the drive and when the car door slammed, he shouted to Marshall that he was at the pool. Within a few seconds, a red-haired young man with a medium build appeared at the pool gate. His green eyes widened behind thin wire-rimmed glasses at the sight of the tall and sexy jock who lazed so openly on a lounge chair on the other side of the pool. Luckily, he was able to reign in his reaction before Gareth noticed anything. Marshall had always had a crush on Gareth.
Some might even say he idolized the friendly and handsome jock. Hardly anyone knew Marshall was gay, but those who did knew that his dream man was none other than one Gareth Prince — who happened to be straight as they come.
Marshall made his way to him, doing his best not to flush as Gareth offered him a friendly smile. He usually did better than this around Gareth, but there were a couple of things working against him today.
And, two, he was feeling a little bit guilty for what he was about to do to his friend. Gareth frowned when he noticed that Marshall was staring at his feet and seemed to have zoned out. He glanced at his watch and sighed. You know the big mansion on Mt. The one you can only see from the road in the fall and winter when the leaves are gone? Old money, creepy old house. The guys and I used to try to sneak into the place on Halloween when we were younger.
Davenport Manor, as everyone called it, had been the subject of much gossip and trepidation for the neighborhood kids for generations. How can I help? You know, getting towels and hot water when he needs it.
But sometimes, we have to lift Mr. Davenport can be kind of ornery sometimes, especially when we…uh…ya know…drop him. Tyson Clancy and his nephew had similar builds and the thought of the two of them struggling with the rather husky Charles Davenport was too funny.
Marshall cracked a smile and relaxed a little bit. He could feel his luck turning. How long do I have to stay? Then he stays in bed for the rest of the day. Just once a day. He can afford to do whatever he wants with his money. As he swing the thick wrought iron door open he looked back over his shoulder to see Gareth pulling his long body off of the lounge chair. He watched as he stretched his arms over his head and rolled his head on his neck.
He slowly pulled himself out of bed and stood on unsteady feet. He stretched for a moment and his skin prickled against morning chill. He quickly stepped into the hall to bump the temperature up before heading to the bathroom to pee and take a shower.
Clean and freshly shaved, he emerged from the shower about 20 minutes later. He ran a brush through his short light brown hair and threw a drop of gel into it before getting dressed and making his way downstairs for some orange juice and a protein bar. He was out the door by 8: As the old mansion came into view, he felt a flutter of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach.
The place was just as foreboding as he remembered it. Still, Gareth stepped out of the car and made his way up the stone steps that led to the grand entrance of the mansion. Gareth shrugged and stepped into the house.
Tyson Clancy, behind the door. The same syringe that was now embedded in the left side of his neck. Marshall cleared his throat nervously. I meant well done on your selection. Just look at him!
He was husky, but it was mostly muscle. His eyes were a deep shade of green and sharp as a tack. He was clearly at the top of his game in every way and he exuded power from his very pores. This was a man with whom one did not fuck.
As Charles Davenport got to the bottom of the stairs and walked over to the unconscious jock, he smiled wickedly. You really did choose well, kid. Clancy smiled and pulled a gurney from the front hall closet. Clancy grunted as he started to lift Gareth onto the gurney. Clancy and Davenport took him to the elevator behind the stairs.
His mind was running wild with the thoughts of what was about to take place. He realized that something was covering his eyes because as he focused, he could feel the soft material of some sort of blindfold. When he went to move his arms to remove it, he found that they were secured to the cushioned surface he was laying on — one strap around each wrist, one above and below each elbow. There was also a strap over his chest, as well as his stomach just below his below button.
A strap on each thigh, below each knee, and at each ankle insured that he would not be able to move any part of his body, which he was horrified to realize was totally exposed. He also discovered that his head was being held still by some sort of clamp that had pads on the spots where it met his temples.
Had he been able to see himself, he would have surely been alarmed by the chrome device that surrounded his head. Several chords ran from it to a computer behind his head. Above his body was some sort of unit that had buttons of varying sizes and colors as well as ports where different instruments and their cables could be attached.
It was probably for the best that Gareth could not see any of this. He was one the verge of a panic attack as it was. It works for a couple of weeks, then his body gets used to it and it wears off. A few of his other rich cronies have the same problem. Then neither of us will get paid! His breathing even slowed. Gareth tried to shake his head and struggled against his bonds but nothing budged. If this works for Davenport, all his friends will want your junk, too!
Gareth immediately recognized the scent of cinnamon wafting from the jar. He was just about to ask what it was when he felt Marshall pinch his nose. When he opened his mouth to inhale, a ball gag was inserted into his mouth and quickly secured his head. Gareth grunted against it, his muscular arms and legs trembling as he struggled futily against his bonds. Marshall picked up the jar again and dipped the tip of the paint brush into it. When he pulled it out, a clear reddish paste clung to the bristles.
His tongue wriggled like mad over the nipple and he alternated between sucking it and lightly nipping at it between licks.