Biting Off More Than You Can Chew
By
S. L. Marks
Published by S. L. Marks at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 S. L. Marks
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If this is not a free book and you would like to share it with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If this is a free book and you would like to share it with another person, please direct the recipient to the book’s page on Smashwords.com so they can download their own copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Also by S. L. Marks
Sex With Strangers
An anthology of short stories
Biting Off More Than You Can Chew
Tales of Trent, the Gay Vampire Book 1
Between The Sheets
Tales of Trent, the Gay Vampire Book 2
Coming Soon
Doggy Style
Tales of Trent, the Gay Vampire Book 3
Top, Bottom or Versatile
A Humorous Essay on the Modern Gay’s Life
Chapter 1 - Bound
Trent didn’t remember what had happened to him. At least not all of it.
He remembered leaving the club, Scandals, with someone, although he was having a problem with the who. Then there was a large blank spot. And he was here, wherever here was. He couldn’t exactly see where here was since someone had put a blindfold on him.
He wondered briefly if the mysterious stranger had slipped him a roofie. Although he didn’t know why. He had gone to Scandals specifically to find a guy to go home with. So it wasn’t like he was going to play hard to get. He had had a couple of drinks, but not enough to cause a blackout, just get him a slight buzz.
It was all very confusing to him. And he could feel his panic bubbling in his gut and throat like bile. This wasn’t the time to go bonkers, though, and he fought the urge as hard as he could.
Maybe it would help to figure out what he did know.
Trent Smith had woken up a few minutes ago. The first thing he had noticed was how cold he was. The second thing he realized was that he was completely naked. The third thing that had started his panic attack was the blindfold tied loosely over his eyes and the rope that bound his wrists tightly behind him. Unfortunately, that anxiety had choked off his other senses and he struggled to assert his dominance and regain his control over them.
This room was dark and dank. He could feel the dampness and chill of the concrete against his buttocks and thighs. Since the blindfold wasn’t very tight, he could tell through the gaps that there was no light anywhere around him. Against his back, he felt the rough rectangles of brick and mortar scraping against the skin on his back and figured he was being kept in someone’s basement. At least, that’s what made sense.
This basement was quiet as a tomb, which made him shudder at the thought. He heard the rhythmic dripping of water and the skittering of some creature ran across the concrete floor. His mind imagined the sound of an animal large enough to sneak up on him and make a meal out of his hanging scrotum. The image made him squeeze his legs together in response.
As his senses began to focus even greater, making up for his loss of sight, he realized that the side of his neck was tingly and wet. He supposed it hurt, too, but the pain was eclipsed by the pins and needles feeling like the muscles and skin were just waking up from being cramped. It was an odd and curious sensation to have in his neck.
Maybe things would look clearer if he could get this cloth off his eyes.
With a contortion of his facial muscles and his teeth, Trent started scrunching his nose and lips, while shaking his head up and down. Slowly, but surely, the restraint began to slip downward, freeing his eyebrows and then his eyelids. It took a few minutes of exertion, but he finally was able to see his prison.
At least, he could see more of it. The basement was dark and gloomy and all he could make out were veiled shadows and anonymous blobs hiding in them. Gray squares lined the top of the walls and he guessed them to be windows, although very little light came in through their grimy glass. But it was enough for him to see that the room was small, maybe the size of his bedroom, and, in the corner, a set of stairs led upward into an even darker crevice.
None of this helped him though. His fear and discomfort were quickly becoming replaced by irritation and anger.
With his arms bent behind him around the brick support column, it was difficult for him to find play in the ropes that bound him. He twisted his wrists, trying to find any give in his bindings and finding none. In fact, the more he struggled, the deeper the rope seemed to cut into his wrists. After several minutes, he finally had to stop before he made himself bleed.
Tired and hurt, the fear overwhelmed the anger again and an uncontrollable shiver spread through his body. Even taking cleansing breaths to calm himself, he couldn’t resist the growing sense of entrapment. He’d seen and read the news. He knew of people being abducted and killed, their bodies found in the woods somewhere, the killers remaining at large. He could see no other reason for him to be tied up in some strange basement without any memory of having gotten here.
And, as the thought of dismemberment played itself on the movie screen in his mind, Trent heard something. Distracted, the disturbing images dissipated and he listened.
There were footsteps above him. Not very heavy, but he recognized the sound. And there was more than one set. At least, two, maybe three people were walking around in whatever room was above him. The floorboards creaked ominously as the steps moved from directly over him towards the direction of where the stairs ended in the darkness.
Silence erupted around him for a moment. The steps had ceased and he heard nothing for a moment. Not even the soft murmur of voices. Whoever was up there was being quiet. His first instinct was to shout out for help, but when he opened his mouth, he found that there was no sound coming from it. In growing intensity, he shouted words after words, hearing nothing but the movement of air as he exhaled. He strained against his bonds, thinking that he could push the pleas out if he only tried harder. But still, there was quiet. Someone could be looking for him and he couldn’t even yell for help. Tears began to stream down Trent’s face as his failure became evident.
He barely heard the creak of a door echo down to him or the tread of feet on the wooden planks of the stairs. But when he did, he stiffened in anticipation, not knowing what to expect from his captors. The stairs continued their protestations until the first of three bulky shadows made it to the concrete of the floor. His two shadow friends joined him in the darkness and stood silently as a triumvirate of silhouettes before the nervous ‘house guest’.
“Good evening.” One of the voices greeted him, deep, dark and mysterious like his surroundings. Even if Trent had wanted to, he couldn’t respond to it, as his mouth was still not cooperating with his brain. The figures merely stood there, melding with the encroaching dark until they were almost imperceptible, just more amorphous blobs among a whole slew of them.
“Oh, right, I compelled you to be quiet.” The same voice rang out, a soft lilt to the manly tone. A chorus of restrained chuckles accompanied the statement, although Trent couldn’t be sure that it was laughter or just breathing.
The middle figure approached Trent’s naked form and he had never felt so exposed in his life. And he had been tied up during sex before. The man towered over him as he stepped around Trent’s legs, bending down to straddle him and bring his face closer to his own. With one knee on the floor, the man grabbed Trent’s chin, digging his sharp nails into the tender flesh of his cheek. Trent tried to squirm out of the stranger’s grasp, only to have the nails dig deeper into his skin causing him to be still or risk being cut by them.
The dark was much too thick for Trent to see what the other men were doing until he felt his hot, coppery breath against his face. The aroma and heat brought his attention back on to the stranger on top of him. Then, like someone he flipped a switch, two tiny red dots appeared directly in front of his own eyes. Just pinpricks at first, they grew in size until they were the size of dimes and floated in front of him like an optical illusion. For a minute, all he could do was stare at them, entranced by the crimson specters.
“There. You can speak now.” The voice whispered at him, carried along on the gusts of his rancid breath.
“Who…” Trent’s voice wavered, testing out his restored vocal cords. “Who the fuck are you and why am I here?”
The stranger pulled his face away, but stayed on his haunches in his kneeling position. His friends hadn’t moved from their stance and Trent lost them in the shadows. Either way, this intimate stranger filled his vision, what there was of it.