The Hood of Justice (10 page)

Casey turned to face Randy.

Jason gasped. The sight of a blood line along the length of his back made him nauseous. How Casey controlled himself was beyond him. The man wasn't only a walking god, he was a saint, too.

Randy had the whip in one hand, the gun in the other. "Now finish getting the clamps off Jason and then get over there and make yourself comfortable." He gestured toward the fuck harness. "I'm going to fuck the living daylights out of you. Perhaps even show you that having anything inserted into your arsehole, including my fist, is something you may come to enjoy." Once more the smile on the man's lips was sinister. Jason swallowed hard.

Casey removed all of the clamps. When the ones off his foreskin were taken away, Jason felt he could breathe a little easier. Having such pressure on such a sensitive part wasn't enjoyable. He really didn't see the appeal.

Then Casey did something unexpected. He came to kiss him square on his lips. His touch was warm, sensual and ever so welcome. Jason gasped. "That's to keep your spirits up."

Again the whip cracked the air. Again Casey screamed out in pain.

"I said, no fucking talking." Randy pulled Casey away. The police officer lost his balance, pulled with so much force he fell to the floor, landing on his buttocks. The look of discomfort and sheer hate etched onto his features. Fucking hell, Randy was going to cop it big time when the cavalry arrived. 

"Casey!" Jason said, his lips still tingling from Casey's touch. He just hoped the man could last long enough as well. Two lashes on his own back, even without the whip with barbs, would have been the finish of him, he was sure.

Randy ignored Jason's cry of concern. Casey got up without any help and  went over to the fuck harness. He sat himself in it and waited.

"That's better." Randy put down the gun and whip. He started to secure Casey into the harness, make sure his tight, pink arsehole was exposed and ready for whatever torture he had in mind. The sick fuck.

Jason called out, "Don't hurt him. You can finish me off if you like, but don't hurt him."

Randy continued to work, strapping Casey's feet so they stayed apart. "Shut your whining, Jason, or I'll make sure they are only able to identify your body by the stain on the floor."

"You don't scare me," Jason said, puffing out his chest and trying with all his might to sound tough, to no avail. His voice came out more like a squeak, but he didn't care. He couldn't let Casey get harmed. No fucking way.

Randy stopped what he was doing. He turned. The look in his eyes pure disgust for what he saw before him. Jason knew he was no longer considered a play thing. His life was not worth anything now.

* * * *

Casey's back smarted from the whip lashes, the wounds rubbing on the harness he had been secured within. But he had to remain strong. Not for himself, but for Jason. The man looked in terrible shape. How long he had been in the dungeon wasn't clear, but if Casey had to hazard a guess, he would say from early yesterday morning at the least. The clamps had left welts all over his body, including on his genitals. Speaking of his genitals, Jason sure did have a cock he'd enjoy sucking and balls he could lick, no worries at all.

Sure, the man was a nobody, a low life crim, but seeing him here changed his perspective. Seemed Jason wasn't in the employ of Randy anymore. Interesting.

He couldn't help but kiss him. The man needed some affection, no matter how small the gesture. Casey hoped Bruce could get free from his bonds and go get back up real soon. He didn't fancy anything inside him Randy would give him. If he was going to have a man put anything up his arse, it would be because he wished it, because he wanted to be with the man. Not have it forced upon him. In short, Randy was going to rape him.

Another charge he could add to the long list already building up. Casey couldn't help but smile. When they brought him in, they would be able to put the man away for a very long time. In fact, Casey would bet his inhaler, Randy would have all sorts of play things in prison. Trouble was, those sort of play things liked to be the ones in charge. Oh well, the man would have twenty-five years minimum to get comfortable with the idea of being the prison block's bitch.

Casey tested the bonds around his wrists. They were loose. Seemed Jason's cry out had disturbed Randy at a perfect time. He looked around. The whip was close, in front of him. The gun, unfortunately, wasn't within easy reach. Not if Casey wanted to be quick and take Randy by surprise with any move he made, anyway.

His feet were secured well. He couldn't move them other than to open and close his legs to some small degree. The harness he was in was designed to keep feet as far apart as possible, exposing the victim's arsehole to whatever pleasure the dominant wanted to inflict.

If he could just loosen the ties enough, he could reach over and grab the whip. At least then he wouldn't be so helpless, look so fucking stupid when Bruce and his backup came charging down the stairs.

Of course, as soon as Casey thought such thoughts, about to enact the plan which had formed in his mind, the door to the dungeon did indeed burst open. Just fucking fabulous, here comes the rescue and here he was with his arsehole in the air, exposed for all and sundry to gawk at. Bruce was going to have a field day with this. Casey would never hear the end of it, he knew it. Casey groaned with displeasure. Chocolate starfish jokes in the locker room would be common from now on in.   

Then again, the distraction of having about ten police officers charge down the stairs was of course all the time Casey needed to free his hands and at least make some attempt to get at the whip which was placed underneath the harness.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

Randy shouted, sliding across the floor in a desperate attempt to get at the gun before he was rugby tackled by half a dozen burly blokes in riot gear. Jason screamed, too, pulling on his bonds to try and free himself, the hope in his eyes tangible. The officers were in the dungeon proper, shouting commands at Randy to stand down. Of course, the man did no such thing.

Then Casey saw him. Bruce came down the stairs. He was hobbling, but thank fuck he was all right. "Bruce!" he cried out.

Bruce made a bee-line for him. He was thankful in a way his partner would be the one to untie him. Then again, if someone else had done it, he wouldn't have cared, either. So long as he was free.

"What you doing strapped up like a Christmas ham for, Case. I mean, Jesus, can't you air out your arsehole at a more appropriate time, buddy."

Casey rolled his eyes. There was the first stab, the first little joke. But he wasn't offended in the least. Instead, he replied, "I was getting myself ready for you to come and rescue me."

Bruce smiled, hastily unbuckling the strapping. "Damn, I only rescue virgins. From the look of your little starfish there, I know you ain't no virgin, even though you haven't had a boyfriend since we were first made partners."

Casey couldn't help but let out a laugh, even under such circumstances. Bruce always made him feel better. "I so hate you, you know that."

"Love you, too, buddy. Now let me get you out of this contraption before the boys see you. I dread to think of what they'll say when they get a gander of your uncompromising position here."

"Hey, blame that fucker Randy--" But Casey didn't get to finish his words. A gunshot rang out, echoing through the dungeon with a chilling purpose. From there, he could hear all sorts of cries out, most from the men in riot gear. "What's happened…fucking hurry up and get me out of here, will you."

Casey was released. He didn't care about his nakedness, he plucked up the whip off the floor and charged toward the group of men who had surrounded Randy. He so wanted to hurt the man, give him a taste of his own medicine.

Before he could raise his arm, lash out with the whip, his arm was caught. He turned to see Bruce holding him. "Don't stoop to his level, Case. He ain't worth it. Besides, Jason's been hurt and I'd say he--"

"What?" Every emotion charged through Casey, from anger to fear to something much, much deeper. Something only one human could feel for another. Complete and utter concern. He dropped the whip. Casey was at the torture rack within a blink of an eye. Jason was unconscious, probably passed out from the shock of being shot. "Help me get him down."

Bruce helped.

The wound was in his upper arm, and thankfully, even though there was a lot of blood, it was a clean shot. When Casey and Bruce had untied him, Jason fell into Casey's arms. Consciousness must have welcomed him for a brief moment, because he opened his eyes and whispered in a hoarse voice, "Are you my angel?"

"Yes," Casey replied, before kissing him on his forehead as he cradled him tight, trying to keep his as close as possible. "Grab my shirt please, Bruce, I'm going to use it as a tourniquet."

"One step ahead of you." Bruce ripped the material into a few manageable pieces, handing it to him. "One of the boys has called for an ambulance. They should be here soon."

When Casey was satisfied Jason was at least comfortable, he added, "Whatever happens, make sure I can dock with that fucker Randy. I want him to pay the full price for all of his crimes."

"I heard that."

Chapter Ten

Two days later, and after a weekend of visiting Jason in the hospital, Casey was ready to make sure Randy paid in full for all those he had harmed. Today was the day he had the best chance of docking with him, get him to confess, come hell or high water.

Casey left the shower room. He felt fresh, ready to tackle the world. Bruce joined him as soon as he came into the hall which led to main administration. Although, Randy's docking could wait for one thing. They both headed for the staff room. Coffee beckoned because the inhaler no longer satisfied him. The word around the precinct was disturbing enough, made worse by the passage of the weekend. Randy Piper had been spouting out sexual abuse claims, all aimed at Casey, of course.

The man was right to make such claims. In a way they were true. Unfortunately, due to Bruce having called in backup on that fateful night, he didn't get a chance to cock dock with the man straight away, erase his memory of what had transpired and get a confession of all his crimes all in the one go. To have done such a thing would have been perfect. The whole affair wrapped up in a neat little bundle.

Such a thing wasn't to be so. Bruce had told Casey not to worry, but he couldn't help it. Randy had some high paid, puffed up lawyer arriving any minute, and no doubt Sarge would bellow for them to all to join him in the interrogation room as soon as humanly possible, too, no doubt.

Thankfully, Casey had caught a good eight hours sleep, much happier when Jason was released from hospital. He took him home. Perhaps Casey would ask out him, after all. Who knew, the guy might be his type. He was kind, gentle and surprisingly intelligent and witty. In fact, he felt comfortable around the man. And, if he had to admit his true feelings, the man did stir something within him. Emotions which were on a much deeper level than just wanting to shove his dick hard up his arse. Perhaps when this Randy ordeal was over, he'd ask him out on a date. 

"You all right, Case?" Bruce asked.

"Not really. The Sarge is so going to rip me a new one, isn't he?"

"You'll be all right. Just do your thing, let them all see what a wonderful ability you have. If all else fails, he won't remember to press charges anyway. The Sarge won't care then, I'd wager."

"Yeah, but his lawyer will remember."

Bruce's eyelids narrowed. "Not if we get in there before he does."

Casey was shocked. "But the Sarge won't go for us being in the room without Randy having his lawyer present."

"Who's says we're going to interrogate him? If we're just having a friendly chat, what can the Sarge do? Nothing other than give us a tongue lashing and tell us we've been bad boys and to piss off until we're called. Don't worry, Case. I've got your back, I told you that."

Casey offered a weak smile. "Well, you're right, I suppose. I'm not going in there to
officially
interrogate him. Just pull down his pants and touch my cock onto his. Nothing more. I can see how the Sarge would have no problem with that whatsoever."

Bruce slapped him on his back, ignoring Casey's intended sarcasm. "That's the spirit. Now drink up your coffee. I'm sure we won't have much time to act."

"I'm so dead, aren't I?" Casey gulped his coffee. In that moment, his foreskin began to tingle. Well, his body was ready for what was to follow. Pity
he
had doubts.     

The interrogation rooms of the station were almost cliché. They were all furnished with a table, two chairs opposite each other, and with no other feature standing out except the close-feed camera fixed in a corner from the ceiling and a secret viewing window on the main wall. Of course, no one in their right mind would think the window was just a mirror. Every suspect knew the whole precinct was able to watch their every move, hear their every word. Just the way the Sarge liked proceedings when it came to questioning perps. Everyone was protected.

Randy had been summoned from his holding cell to appear in interrogation room seven, the charges of stealing a police officer's weapon, shooting a police officer with the stolen weapon, holding a police officer against his will, the murder of two security guards in his employ, torture of Jason P. Caruthers, including defamation of liberty and intent to cause harm, and firing a weapon without a license, were more than enough to hold him for that long without bail. When bail was set, as soon as the DA's office opened, it was posted at well over the three million dollar mark.

Interrogation room seven was the largest of all such rooms. That's where Casey and Bruce marched as soon as they had heard the news from George, the office busy body, about what was going on around the precinct. The sexual harassment rumours hadn't eased either. 

Bruce entered first.

"Well, well, seems a few nights in the can has cooled you off a bit, hey?" Bruce began, putting on his best haughty manner and sarcastic tone.