Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica) (2 page)

“Sir?”

“DEA called me just about ninety seconds
after you radioed in the arrest. Apparently, our pill-popping
friend
Derek
and his queen-size bag of candy are involved in
some kind of sting operation. The tranny’s a snitch, kid, working
with the narcs. Gotta let her go.”

Jeff slumped into his chair, crest-fallen,
but then perked back up, confused.

“She’s got a rap sheet, you know. All of it
here within Haciera County ever since she… or I guess
he
was
a teenager. You’re telling me she’s a drug mule now?”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“For Quaaludes? When have we ever seen
anything like that?”

The Sheriff could only throw his hands up
and shrug, rising from his seat. “We haven’t. But it isn’t our
problem, kid. Save it for the DEA boys. Point is, we’ve gotta let
her go –
with
her pills, too.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jeff shot back, his
temper beginning to crack. “She’s high right now, for Christ’s
sake!”

“Look, I get that you’re pissed,” Fox said,
placing a hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “I don’t like it any more than
you do. But it’s just some shit that we’ve gotta eat, and that’s
that. All right?”

Jeff shook his head, rising from his seat in
frustration. “It doesn’t make any goddamned sense.”

Fox watched calmly as Jeff stormed his way
out of the office. “Mind the temper there, officer,” he said, the
door slamming shut on the sentiment. Fox could only chuckle. Jeff
was a good young cop, and he couldn’t blame him for being upset,
even if he didn’t always care for the hot-headed attitude.

He sighed to himself, sitting back down at
his desk, weary. It had been an unexpectedly busy day, and it
wasn’t over yet. He lifted the phone, dialing a number from memory
and bringing the receiver to his ear. After a few rings, someone
answered with a quick, “Yes?”

“It’s taken care of,” Fox said. “They’re
releasing her now; she’ll be there in an hour. And Mason? You owe
me for this.”

Fox set the receiver down, ending the call.
Smoothing out his mustache, he placed his hat back on his head,
then stood up, grabbed his jacket, and left the office.

As he made his way down the hallway and out
of the building, he failed to notice that Danny Major’s missing
persons flyer was noticeably absent from the bulletin board where
it had hung just minutes before.

~*~

SRPRISE.

Jeff, fresh off of his shift, sat in his
Mustang, Danny’s missing persons photo smiling up at him from the
passenger’s seat. Parked just outside the impound lot’s main gate,
he stared at the pickup truck sitting on the other side of the
chain-link fence.

What kind of drug mule has vanity
plates?

None of it added up, and Jeff was determined
to figure out why, to figure out what was really going on here.
Uncharacteristically antsy, he reached into his glove compartment,
pulling out a worn, crumpled pack of cigarettes and bringing one to
his lips, quickly lighting up and ashing out the cracked window.
He’d been camped out for over a half an hour. Typically, at this
point in the evening after finishing a day shift, he’d be nursing a
beer at home, or maybe lifting weights at the gym. But not
tonight.

He glanced over at Danny’s photo from the
flyer, replaying Trixie’s reaction to it over and over in his head.
Even with the fog of the drugs hanging over her, it had captured
her attention in a moment of unmistakable recognition. This wasn’t
just some random face to her, this was someone she knew. Jeff felt
certain of it.

The back doors from the station opened, and
sure enough, out came Trixie, escorted by a patrol officer. Jeff
tensed up at the long-awaited sight, quickly flinging his
half-smoked cigarette out the window, then slinking down low in his
seat. Cautious not to be seen, he watched as the officer led Trixie
to her truck, opened the door for her, then waved the gate open for
her after she had climbed in. Incredulous, he couldn’t help but
shake his head as she pulled out of the lot – a drugged up tranny
caught with an immense stash of illegal pills, in and out of police
custody in just over an hour.

Jeff waited until she was a few blocks
ahead, then turned the ignition and pulled the car into gear, a
resolute look of determination chiseled into his face. One way or
another, he was going to get to the bottom of this, and it all
started with finding out where Trixie was headed. Carefully staying
at least a few car lengths behind her at all times, Jeff followed
her as she drove out of the city limits, back towards the desert
highways where he had first picked her up. The sun had just
finished setting, leaving the sky a brilliant mixture of grayish
orange in the west and navy blue in the east. By the time the truck
finally came to a stop, pulling into a lot out in the middle of
nowhere, it was completely dark out.

“Motel X,” Jeff muttered to himself, pulling
over to the side of the road and scoping the place out through a
set of binoculars. If he wanted to get any closer without being
detected, it would have to be on foot...

He had never been out this way, and had
never heard of Motel X before, even though it was technically
within his department’s jurisdiction, sitting out in the middle of
no man’s land. There couldn’t be that many motorists coming through
here, he wondered, could there? No way could a motel stay in
business just off the occasional stray traveler…

Stepping lightly, he drew near to the
entrance of the motel’s property, quickly crouching behind a
boulder and pulling his binoculars back out. The only soul in sight
was a lanky looking man with glasses and a trucker hat sitting at
the front desk of the lobby. Through the window, Jeff could see him
eating popcorn and chuckling at something on the TV. Aside from
him, there was nobody – no Trixie, no DEA, no pickup truck…

But there was a camera. Jeff spotted it up a
nearby telephone poll, keeping watch over the front lot. Scanning
the premises, Jeff found another on top of the roof, and another by
the front door… and another… and another…

Jesus
, he thought to himself. What
the hell were they protecting here?

Finally, he decided to risk it, and make his
way onto the property. He hopped a fence by the far side of the
building, hoping he could catch a blind spot between all the
cameras. Hurried low, he crept across the empty parking lot until
he was flat against the building, out of sight of any of the
cameras he had made note of.

A loud snigger cut through the silence. Jeff
froze, then slowly bent forward, peeking through the window into
the lobby, where the front desk attendant was slapping his leg in
laughter at the grainy program he was watching on his tiny
television. Looking closer, Jeff could see a small row of monitors
hidden behind the desk beside him – security feeds from the cameras
out front.

But what about the back? Jeff pursed his
lips, creeping away from the front lobby, gradually making his way
around the building. As he rounded the motel’s side, he saw it –
Trixie’s red pickup. He was getting closer.

He found himself at the back of the
building, where ten rooms stretched down the length of the motel.
“X” marked the first one, followed by “IX”, “VIII”, “VII”, and so
on. That explained the motel’s name. But Jeff’s attention wasn’t on
the ten rooms – it was on a small, house-like building at the back
of the lot, where the lights were on, and faint voices could be
heard.

“…stupid, careless
bitch
!”

The voice, with crisp annunciation that
stabbed like a well-sharpened knife, belonged to a man. Jeff
sneaked his way across the lot, moving close along the side of
Trixie’s truck, until he was kneeling directly beneath the window,
and could hear the voices clearly – including Trixie’s.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Mason!” she blurted.

“You’re
sorry?
Do you even realize
that you quite nearly ruined our entire operation today?”

Jeff could hear Trixie sobbing. Whoever this
Mason was, it was clear that she feared him.

“I know, I know… I fucked up…”

Mason gave an exasperated laugh. “They said
you were high as a kite. You sampled the stash, didn’t you? You
know those pills are for the slaves only.”

Jeff’s eyebrows perked up –
slaves
?

Trixie hesitated before responding. “I… I
wanted to be sure they weren’t fakes. Like that one time
before.”

“So you needed to pop half a dozen of
them?”

Trixie’s silence was all the answer Mason
needed. His voice dropped to a dangerously low tone, something just
below a growl. “You’re damned lucky that we’re kin. If Gus or
Dwayne pulled something like this, I’d be feeding them to the
scorpions right now.”

Trixie choked back a sob. “I’m sorry, I’m
sorry…” Mason gave a slow exhale, then softened.

“It’s all right. It’s taken care of. Fox
will handle the damage control, and we’ll put this episode behind
us…”

Jeff’s throat instantly went dry. Fox… as
in…
Sheriff Fox
?

“Now go,” Mason said. “Fetch X and get him
ready. I have some steam to blow off.”

Jeff looked up at the building’s main door –
he was totally exposed out here in the open, and Trixie would be
walking out in just a few moments. Thinking fast, Jeff ducked
around the corner, peeking around as Trixie stepped out. He was
oblivious to the motel behind him, where the blinds in room X’s
window slowly bent apart, a shadowy figure peering out at him
through the darkness…

Trixie stood outside, wiping at her smeared
mascara, then took a breath and started towards the motel – towards
Jeff. There was nowhere else to hide out here, nothing except a
plain looking door into the house. He bolted for it, hoping against
hope that it wasn’t locked…

It wasn’t. Jeff practically threw the door
open and bolted inside, swiftly but quietly shutting it behind him.
He was alone in pitch blackness – but he was still undetected.

This was a mistake
… he started
telling himself. He had suspected something strange was going on,
and he should have trusted his instinct, realized that it was
something big. He never should have come to this place without any
kind of backup…

But then again, who could he trust? If
Sheriff Fox really was involved – and the DEA story was clearly a
lie, so Jeff had to believe that he was – then who else in the
department might be compromised? Who could Jeff really trust? For
all he knew, he might be the one cop in the…

“Shit!”

Jeff couldn’t help but blurt it out in
panicked surprise as he took a cautious step into the darkness, and
quickly found himself tumbling down a cold concrete stairwell. He
fell all the way to the bottom, leaving him sprawled out on the
musty floor, suppressing an urge to moan in agony. Dizzy and sore,
he pulled himself back up to his feet, dabbing gently at a fresh
gash on his forehead. Didn’t feel too serious – he was lucky he
didn’t break anything, or knock himself out.

He pulled his lighter out of his pocket and
flicked it to life, casting a dim glow through the darkness. The
only thing before him was a large, green, steel door. Cautiously,
he tried the doorknob, cracking the door open and peering inside.
The room was empty, save for a few large wooden cabinets against
the walls and a thick table covered in black padded leather in the
center of the room, with heavy buckling restraints dangling from
all sides.

“What the hell…” Jeff muttered to himself.
It looked almost like an execution chamber – even the air had the
heavy musk of sweat and desperation. This was a room that had seen
horror, that had seen pain…

CLICK…

Jeff’s entire body tensed as he heard the
faint sound of the door at the top of the steps being opened.
Thinking fast, he darted back to the green door, quickly shutting
it.
Now what?

He could hear footsteps making their way
down the steps, closer and closer to him. Someone was coming, and
he needed to hide…

He rushed to one of the cabinets, yanking it
open. Inside hung dozens of leather restraints, along with a
collection of canes, paddles, and a coiled bullwhip. Ignoring the
thoughts of what these instruments were likely used for, Jeff bit
his lip and squeezed his way inside, just barely managing to shut
himself in before the green door began to come open.

He positioned himself in the center of the
cabinet, staring out through the crack between the two doors,
giving himself a sliver of a sightline to the padded table.
Somewhere in the room, a switch was flicked, a flickering overhead
lamp coming on and casting a pool of light over the table. Then two
figures came into view: a tall well-dressed man with thin, sandy
brown hair – and a younger man, maybe twenty-five years old, naked,
with a steel collar around his neck. Looking at him from behind,
Jeff could see a large “X” seared directly into the flesh of his
backside, a permanent scar branded into his skin. The sight gave
Jeff a queasy chill.

The tall man stared into his naked subject’s
eyes. “Are you ready to answer me, X?”

“X” gave no response.

The tall man nodded. “Very well. Let’s
proceed then.”

The tall man turned his companion around,
leaving him facing Jeff directly. He was tan and lean, but still
muscular and healthy-looking, despite his worn down demeanor. Jeff
was struck by the fact that both of his nipples and the tip of his
long, cut cock were pierced with thick-gauge rings, piercings he
had to assume were forcibly given. He began to shudder at the
monstrous thought, but then froze, his mind instantly clearing
itself as the tall man bent his slave over the table and began
cuffing him into place. His face was finally directly in Jeff’s
line of sight, and even in the dim light, there was no mistaking
it.