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4
AKA's GAME ROOM had always looked pretty much the way it looked now. Like a modestly decorated guestroom with a nearby--just a few feet across the landing--bath. Any number of interesting GAME toys were squirreled away out of sight in the room's one and only closet, that was true, but who needed a torture rack or wall-chains or other silly contraptions like that when a solidly built four-poster served the basic requirements quite well? Besides, torture for its own sake had never been AKA's thing. Sure, he enjoyed inflicting pain, even a lot of pain on occasion, but it truly was your basic sex-snuff combo that turned him on the most. To take a beautiful kid at his physical and sexual peak all the way, over the top, into the never-to-be-undone domain of death--that was the elixir of elixirs!
AKA switched on the light.
"Nice bed," the young dancer commented as he moved into the room.
His bare feet slapped across the shiny linoleum, which AKA preferred to carpeting for obvious reasons. There was always stuff to clean up, no matter how carefully one tried to limit the flow of bodily fluids to the bed.
"Thank you," AKA replied. "Hop in."
James put his drink on the bedside table and began to unbutton the Long Johns.
"No. Leave them on," AKA interrupted. "Those are the sexist things I've seen recently. I would like to enjoy them a little while longer."
James clearly relished the compliment. He shot AKA a charming smile.
"Sure. Whatever you say."
AKA put his own drink down, draped the red scarf over the back of a nearby chair, and proceeded to undress.
As he did so, James retrieved his drink, climbed up into the bed, flipped around (somewhat awkwardly for him), and began to adjust the pillows in order to lean up against the headboard. There were two sets of sheets on the bed, with a layer of protective plastic underneath. The plastic made a slight crinkling noise as James moved about, but the young man seemed not to notice. Most didn't.
"You really are a good-looking guy," AKA said as he watched him. "You could have done some modeling, I think. Made some real money that way."
The past tense just slipped out, but the young dancer was oblivious. Most were.
The young man took a big swig of his Rob Roy and settled down into the pillows.
"I did do one porno film once, if that counts. I was desperate. Never saw it. Hope I never do. Hope . . . no one ever does."
AKA continued to strip.
"What did you have to do in it?"
"Your basic . . . sucking and fucking. I was hating it the whole time. I didn't know either of the other two guys or . . . the 'director,' if you can call the slimy SOB that. I never felt so dirty in my life. I threw up twice during the shoot. In the bathroom fortunately. I never went back. Not that they came running after me either. Maybe I looked as miserable as I felt. Anyway, no . . . modeling other that that, assuming that counts."
He sipped his drink. It had clearly slowed his responses, as well as his speech, but he was otherwise quite aware, still in control of himself. Just as AKA had hoped he would be.
AKA was down to his underpants now. He picked up his own drink, took a swig, and moved over to the bed.
"So you like to cuddle, huh," he said as he got in.
"Yeah."
"Finish your drink."
James did.
AKA once again admired the young man's dramatically arced neck. It was slender but impressively strong-looking. In keeping with the rest of his body. It was slender and impressively strong-looking as well underneath those Long Johns.
AKA took the empty glass and put it on the bedside table, next to his own.
"I feel so smoooooth," James murmured as he sank further down into the pillows.
He closed his eyes and extended his legs.
His bare feet flexed. They were attractively strong and slender as well.
A dancer's feet. A dancer's body. A dancer's face. This kid was all of a piece. He was not the handsomest guy who had ever come AKA's way, but he was certainly no slouch when it came to looks either. But it was the personality that made the difference. Despite some rough life-experiences, young James the dancer was basically as uncorrupted, as genuine, as attractively undefended as AKA had sensed at the start. It was a type that always excited AKA. "Bad boys" could be fun to play with too, of course. No question. But there was something about Boy Scouts--AKA had even got his hands on a pair of real ones on one memorable occasion--that made their fate that much more thrilling to execute. Not that this kid--your basic porn-fodder hustler, to be honest--was any kind of Boy Scout. Still, there was something essentially uncorrupted about him. AKA liked that. Showing even a relative innocent like this just how bad life could REALLY get satisfied some gut-deep desire in AKA. Good, looked at from the right point of view, deserved whatever fucking evil came its way. It was practically a law of nature.
AKA moved in alongside the young man.
James turned to face him.
They were soon chest-to-chest, cock-to-cock, their lips locking, their legs linking, their feet sensuously footing it.
It was downright romantic, unlike anything AKA had ever experienced before. Yes, he had pretended to enjoy a bit of lovey-dovey foreplay on occasion, but the truth was he never really had. With this young man, however, he succumbed. Not entirely, but enough to know what a loving sexual relationship might actually feel like. It was nice. Very nice. It could never be enough, of course, but it was nice to feel this way for a change.
The effect of the valium could be felt in the increasingly slow, loose-jointed movements of the young man's arms and legs and shoulders. He radiated the kind of puppy warmth that one often woke up with as a kid. The Rob Roy tasted great on the kid's seductively scouring tongue too. His hard white dentals felt as clean and wholesome as the rest of him. AKA's own teeth tapped against them. His own tongue scoured in turn. The puppy warmth was flavored with a lightly lime-scented cologne of some kind. That was nice too. It was all so nice, nice, nice.
AKA pulled back.
He was really getting carried away. He needed to take a break, breathe.
Young James moved toward him, trying to maintain contact. His long, slender cock was once again free of the Long Johns. AKA's had slipped through the slit in his boxers.
Gently but firmly AKA held the young man off the few necessary inches. He needed to let his emotions subside, then he would see. He liked feeling in control--that, after all, was one of the more important goals of THE GAME--and AKA was feeling anything but at the moment.
"You can cuff me if you want to. I don't mind."
It was said very quietly, almost tenderly.
AKA swallowed, very much surprised. He had not expected this.
"You sure?"
James did not open his eyes. He just nodded.
AKA felt strangely divided all of a sudden--pleased with the invitation, an invitation which would make the rest so easy, yet oddly unwilling to proceed at the same time, not sure when it came to it that he actually wanted to go there. Do that. This soon anyway.
Over the years, there were a few guys AKA had hesitated to go all the way with when the moment of truth came. There were even a couple he had actually let go. The reasons had been different each time.
One had been young. Really young. With an innocence AKA had, finally, not been able to violate. AKA liked to think there were no barriers he couldn't break, but there had turned out to be one. At least on that occasion.
The other kid AKA had let go convinced AKA that he was not only turned on by what AKA was threatening to do to him but would honestly love to partner him in just such a crime. AKA had never really considered having a partner before. He knew some serial killers had. William Bonin, the California Freeway Killer, for example. But AKA had always enjoyed playing THE GAME solo. Even so, this one kid--a rather tasty, lip-pierced nineteen-year-old AKA had picked up in a mall men's room--had persuaded AKA that he was serious. And he was serious. AKA put him to the test, and he actually turned up two nights after being set free with an even more tasty-looking seventeen-year-old in tow, a butt buddy "no one will miss" as the nineteen-year-old quietly informed AKA. It was apparently true. As far as AKA knew, no one ever did miss the seventeen-year-old. But there had been only that one shared kill. Because a week later the nineteen-year-old died in a car crash. The Dark Gods clearly intended that AKA should work alone.
AKA slowly turned away from James, rolled over, and reached for the drawer of the bedside table. He always kept several pairs of handcuffs there, ready and waiting.
He opened the drawer, fished out two pairs--sorry for the rattling metallic noise they made--and sat up.
James was still on his side, but his eyes were open now.
AKA held the cuffs up.
"Last chance," he said.
The young dancer just smiled.
"On your back, then."
James did as he was told.
AKA drew the young man's left arm up, secured the first pair of cuffs to the wrist, then locked the free end around the bedpost. There was noticeable scuffing on the bedpost, unevenly carved grooves produced by the struggles of previously handcuffed occupants of the bed. AKA had lost track of exactly how many such struggles there had been in this bed. Two dozen, easy. Enough, anyway, that it was getting hard now to keep them all straight. Which was not how AKA liked it. He liked to think that each kill was special, unique, worth remembering for its own sake. And they were. Thus, AKA's frustration when one face started to morph into another face, when one capture started to merge into another capture, when one dying seemed like any other dying.
AKA straddled the young dancer's chest and lifted his other arm up toward the other bedpost. James was forced to shift up in the bed so that AKA could secure him on that side as well. It was soon done.
AKA pulled the pillows away and tossed them onto the floor on the far side of the bed. Pillows were only in the way at a time like this.
James finally spoke.
"I can't believe I've really let you do this."
He laughed, but it was a light, unperturbed, valium-relaxed laugh.
AKA settled his butt back on the young man's crotch, adjusting his position until the kid's rock-candy-hard cock was wedged in AKA's ass-crack.
"Comfortable?"
"Yeahhhh!" the young man moaned.
AKA worked the muscles in his ass.
James slowly flexed, his cock gingerly probing the vale between AKA's still covered buttocks. AKA rarely let himself be fucked, but he knew he was going to make an exception this time.
"Let me get these off," he said.
Moving to the side, he soon dispensed with his boxers. He tossed them away, reached back over to the still open drawer in the bedside table, and pulled out a tube of Vaseline.
Pushing James' legs together, he straddled the thighs and proceeded to lube the kid's cock.
It really was a very nice one, totally in keeping with the rest of the trim, well-toned, strongly-built body.
AKA laid the tube aside, rose up, positioned the young man's dick, and sank down.
He grunted as the cock went in. He was not used to this. It hurt some. To be honest, it hurt rather a lot. But AKA persevered. Ordered himself to relax. To open. To receive.
He did.
Soon he was letting James set the pace. It was, not surprisingly, a very considerate one--easy, steady, gentle almost to the point of timidity. Far from being grateful, however, the kid's consideration actually irritated AKA. It was the first thing that seemed pansy about him.
So you're a wimpy little fag after all, he thought.
AKA leaned forward and began to undo the buttons down the front of the sexy Long Johns.
James' chest was as smooth as glass, with a pair of buff muscle-tight pecs toned to perfection. The stomach was flat, firm, and as tight as a drum as well. There wasn't much of a tan--which was not surprising, given the time of the year--but it didn't matter. Not when skin looked this fresh, this glowing, this translucent.
AKA began to ride the dick up his ass.
James increased his humping to match the new, slightly more aggressive rhythm AKA set.
AKA spread his hands out across the young man's hard, muscle-tensed belly.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
James was getting close.
Very close.
AKA could feel the cum coming.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
Then.
The young man shot his load.
AKA could feel it flood his ass.
Leaning forward, he launched himself at the young dancer's throat--so exposed, so beautiful, so impressively arced and vulnerable. It was just too great a temptation to resist. AKA couldn't have stopped himself if he had tried.
James' eyes shot open. His face immediately flushed a deeper, darker red, far deeper and darker than the sex itself had caused. His quickly thickening lips moved as he tried to speak, to protest.
AKA continued to bear down as the last of the kid's jism pumped up his ass.
They stared at one another--James clearly frightened, shocked, disbelieving--AKA trembling, desiring, unable to control himself.
AKA proceeded to hump the boy's hard belly.
Hump!
Hump!
Hump!
Hump!
AKA came even as James' consciousness wavered, even as his sexily thickening lips blued in that uniquely wonderful way manual strangulation almost always caused.
Gasping, AKA released his grip, fell back, re-impaling himself on the kid's still throbbing cock.
Jesus! That felt good! That always felt so damned fucking unbelievably good!!!
And AKA wasn't thinking about the dick up his ass either.
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