After the attack, Jorge had obediently taken himself back to the pool house, the memory of Booker’s kiss still lingering on his lips. The 1500 square foot building was his home, and he spent each and every day locked within its walls until summoned by Holland to perform sexual favors or menial chores. Since agreeing to work for Ingram three years ago, the isolation had changed his personality, and he no longer spent time with his family or friends. He was an outcast, and Holland and his associates were his only company. His daily life consisted of brutal sex games and sadistic punishments, but after so many years trapped in a cycle of abuse, his mind had adjusted, and he no longer felt the need to escape the barbarous situation he found
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Because of his isolation, he was now wary of people his own age, but Booker had been an exception, and he had found himself inexplicably drawn to the charismatic young officer. Of course, he had only observed him from a distance; Holland had cunningly kept them apart until the evening of the dinner party. Witnessing two strangers copulate was all part of the thrill for the members of the Shadow Society, and Jorge had lost count of the number of erotic encounters he had participated in with the young men Holland lured to the house. At the age of nineteen, he was sexually experienced beyond his years, and he knew how to please a man. He had never been with a woman, and although curious, he did not feel any attraction toward the female maids in Holland’s employ. Whether by intervention or design, he considered himself homosexual, and in his opinion, Dennis was the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on; he was his fantasy come …show more content…
“YOU KISSED HIM, YOU STUPID PRICK! NOBODY KISSES HIM EXCEPT ME! GOT IT?”
Booker instinctively shrank away, but the force of Holland’s words continued to ring painfully in his aching head and protecting his ears with his hands, he started to moan. “Oh God. Stop! Please stop!”
Annoyance registered in Holland’s eyes, and grabbing Booker by the wrist, he dragged him across the room. “God won’t help you, you stupid bitch,” he snarled. “In his eyes, you’re nothing more than a filthy slut.”
With the deleterious effects of his concussion becoming more apparent with each passing minute, Booker was incapable of fighting back. His vision blurred, and as he struggled to remain upright, he watched through narrowed eyes as Holland pulled back the stained rug, revealing a hidden trapdoor built into the floorboards. The mogul grabbed the metal handle, and yanking open the hatch, he motioned toward the gaping hole in the floor. “Get in.”
Booker tottered unsteadily on his feet. “I can’t,” he groaned, “I’ll fall.”
“I SAID… GET… IN!” Holland yelled, and grabbing Booker by the shoulders, he forcefully shoved him down the narrow
Because of his isolation, he was now wary of people his own age, but Booker had been an exception, and he had found himself inexplicably drawn to the charismatic young officer. Of course, he had only observed him from a distance; Holland had cunningly kept them apart until the evening of the dinner party. Witnessing two strangers copulate was all part of the thrill for the members of the Shadow Society, and Jorge had lost count of the number of erotic encounters he had participated in with the young men Holland lured to the house. At the age of nineteen, he was sexually experienced beyond his years, and he knew how to please a man. He had never been with a woman, and although curious, he did not feel any attraction toward the female maids in Holland’s employ. Whether by intervention or design, he considered himself homosexual, and in his opinion, Dennis was the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on; he was his fantasy come …show more content…
“YOU KISSED HIM, YOU STUPID PRICK! NOBODY KISSES HIM EXCEPT ME! GOT IT?”
Booker instinctively shrank away, but the force of Holland’s words continued to ring painfully in his aching head and protecting his ears with his hands, he started to moan. “Oh God. Stop! Please stop!”
Annoyance registered in Holland’s eyes, and grabbing Booker by the wrist, he dragged him across the room. “God won’t help you, you stupid bitch,” he snarled. “In his eyes, you’re nothing more than a filthy slut.”
With the deleterious effects of his concussion becoming more apparent with each passing minute, Booker was incapable of fighting back. His vision blurred, and as he struggled to remain upright, he watched through narrowed eyes as Holland pulled back the stained rug, revealing a hidden trapdoor built into the floorboards. The mogul grabbed the metal handle, and yanking open the hatch, he motioned toward the gaping hole in the floor. “Get in.”
Booker tottered unsteadily on his feet. “I can’t,” he groaned, “I’ll fall.”
“I SAID… GET… IN!” Holland yelled, and grabbing Booker by the shoulders, he forcefully shoved him down the narrow