Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story (33 page)

Matt inwardly winced when the plug was forced in, sternly telling his mind not to be so cowardly when it scuttled away from the realization of what Skull was doing to Hooch. Hooch, who had not made a sound beyond a few groans, drenched in sweat and struggling against his bonds. Hooch, who needed this so that he would not fall prey to a darkness that Matt still did not understand, and had long realized that he never would. It was part of Hooch, regardless, and something he needed to come to terms with. Still not knowing what was harder, to watch things being done to him Matt’s presence, or to see him go once a month, and come back bruised and worn, but strangely calm and leveled.

Hooch was trembling, instinctive shudders running through his body, as he was left alone for a while. Displayed for the audience, and unable to expect what would happening next.

The moment of peace didn’t last long. A knowing glance went between Eagle and MC, who had taken the metal studded paddle from the tray and positioned himself where Skull had stood earlier. The first almighty strike of the paddle hit Hooch’s ass and he almost screamed—barely suppressing the desperate sound with ever increasing groans. The paddle struck again and again, driving the plug deeper inside with every assault. No rhythm, no pattern to anticipate the beatings, and a speed that made it impossible for him to ever brace or gather himself.

Hooch’s ass turned raw and deep red, with angry welts and visible imprints of the metal studs, his skin broken in places. His cock, though, harder than Matt had ever seen it. Nearly deep purple and leaking continuously.

Eagle was readying his toys at the side of the stage. A tray with gleaming metal and a small piece of machinery with cables trailing from its front Spreading lube on a thick metal wand, Eagle stood patiently until MC, as sweat drenched as Hooch’s wrecked body, stopped the paddling. Eagle stepped close, took Hooch’s metal-ringed cock into his hand, positioned the wand at the slit, and as slowly and relentlessly as Skull had fucked Hooch’s ass, he forced the rod inside by letting its weight pull it down the urethra and guiding it deep into Hooch’s cock.

Hooch, seemed close to breaking. The noises he made were mindless and animalistic, his whole body straining and fighting, trying to get away from this most extreme of intrusions.

Matt stared at the metal rod as it entered Hooch’s cock, hoping that his disbelief was not noticeable, as all eyes were on Hooch and the stage. Hooch, trapped and unable to move, writhing in the bonds as Eagle slowly twisted and moved the wand.

A movement out of the corner of his eye brought Matt’s attention back to Tank, who had been standing aside, observing the others with Hooch, watching the effect of his art in action.

When the wand was finally deeply embedded in Hooch’s cock, Eagle reached for a couple of cables from the machine, and secured them onto the metal rod, right below the insulated tip that protruded out of Hooch’s cock. He clipped a different set of cables onto the barbells in Hooch’s nipples, then nodded at Tank who stepped away. Eagle set two dials to different strengths on the machine, held onto the insulation to keep the metal rod inside Hooch’s cock, then flicked two switches.

That very instant Hooch’s body tensed then thrashed in convulsions but held in place by the ropes, an inhuman scream ripped from the very depths of his self. The scream cut through the mounting buzz of the audience, his wailing climbing higher, louder, and ever more insane, the further Eagle increased the intensity of the electric current that tortured Hooch inside and out.

MC reappeared, pushing a hip-height padded examination table in front of Hooch, and with a rattling of chains, Hooch’s upper body was lowered onto the table, until his ass was raised and his upper body crushed down by the weight of the steel beam across his shoulder blades and outstretched arms. He never got the chance for his knees to buckle, because Skull stood right behind him, grabbing hold of his hips once more, and with a latex-gloved hand he swiftly twisted and pulled the over-sized plug out of his ass.

Hooch howled, one scream bleeding into the other, until Eagle turned the dials down. With the decreased electricity at a steady pulse, Hooch’s screams turned to raw sobs. His face was soaked with sweat and wet with tears. Nearly black eyes focused on nothing. Far away in himself with only his body there. A body that jerked violently when Skull pushed all five fingers of his large hand into Hooch’s ass, loosened from the plug, the muscles without resistance after the vicious paddling.

When Hooch opened his mouth to cry out, Tank stood in front of him, forcing his cock with one thrust down Hooch’s throat, all the way to the root. Fucking the helplessly upturned face with as much ferocity
as Skull was fisting the ass.

Matt realized that his breaths were coming fast and shallow, and he took a step forward without thinking. Catching a glimpse of Hooch’s face around Tank’s cock, pressed hard against the man’s abs with every thrust, eyes black and wild. Matt’s gaze was fixed on Hooch, taken at both ends by Tank and Skull, while Eagle detached the cables from the nipple piercings and the wand to slowly glide out of Hooch’s cock, which was an almost dark purple, straining against its rings and straps.

MC had laid down his punishing tools, looking on the final act. He snapped his fingers and a young man without collar, dressed in skin tight leather chaps that left his ass and cock free, scurried up the stage and immediately sunk to his knees in front of the big man, freeing his cock and sucking him with greed.

Hooch bucked against Skull’s fist, deeply embedded within his body, and Tank’s cock that was thrusting erratically into him. Trying to squirm away from both of them, but unable to move, until Tank came with a shudder and abruptly withdrew, cum splattering Hooch’s face.

Eagle was about to swap places with Tank, when Matt found himself walking up on the stage, focusing on Hooch’s face: his expression was mindless and detached, in agony and yet removed. Not knowing what compelled him, Matt stopped in front of Hooch, taking Eagle’s place.

“That’s enough.” Matt ordered, as he fumbled with his zip
.

With his hand steadying Hooch’s jaw in a gentle grip, Matt slid his painfully hard cock in between Hooch’s lips. Hooch was too exhausted to do much more than let Matt move in, unresisting as he made his way down Hooch’s throat, constricting, contracting as Matt moved down.

Skull withdrew his fist slowly, standing to the side, allowing a slave to crawl towards him and free his cock to suck him off.

Matt’s hand other hand touched Hooch’s face, brushing away sweat and tears. He continued to hold in place and simultaneously caress him as he neared completion, feeling his breaths and his thrusts become erratic, the closer he got to release. Never taking his eyes off Hooch’s face: lips stretched around his cock and dark, wild eyes blown wide and diluted, until he came down Hooch’s throat. Matt quickly withdrew so that Hooch wouldn’t choke, his cum dripping out of Hooch’s slack mouth.

“Cut him loose.” Matt’s voice was surprisingly firm and clear above the hum of the crowd. Several staff members hurried to cut ropes and free Hooch, while Matt quickly zipped himself back up.

He didn’t wait for Hooch to be cut lose, but got down on one knee, and motioned for staff to pull the table away. The moment the support was gone, the full weight of Hooch’s body rested against Matt’s chest. All the while staff continued to work on the tough ropes and the chains.

Matt steadied Hooch’s helpless body and fumbled for the cock ring, undoing it and letting Hooch’s cock free. A few firm strokes were all it took for Hooch to finally orgasm with a raw, broken cry, and he collapsed. Matt unclasped the metal posture collar and flung it to the side, as the last ropes were cut off and the heavy steel beam moved aside.

Matt lifted Hooch’s head and looked straight into his eyes, which weren’t able to focus, but he saw peace and repletion in them. Covering Hooch’s mouth with his own, not heeding the remains of cum nor the sweat and tears, and the kiss was deep but tender, a kiss that was rarely seen at the club. No hunger or lust or possession, because Matt did not need any of that. No need to claim Hooch, because Hooch was his.

The staff helped them both up and off the stage, carrying Hooch between them, and guided them through the crowd. They were lead down another corridor, with doors on either side, and the nearest one opened to a decent-sized room bathed in a golden light and with a bed, couch, comfortable chairs, and adjacent bath. A selection of drinks, candy, ice, salves, sterile wipes, wet cloths, painkillers and gauze was arranged on a low table beside the bed. The two staff helped Hooch lie down on the crisp white sheets of the softly padded bed, where he immediately curled up on his side.

As the door closed behind the staff, Matt went and sat on the bed, next to Hooch who had not moved a muscle since he had been laid there. Stretching to lie beside him, facing Hooch whose eyes were closed, he brushed the wet hair away from his face

an affectionate gesture rather than one that had any use whatsoever, before he reached for a wet cloth to clean Hooch’s face. The body could wait, Matt decided, pulling a warm blanket over them both, heedless that he still had his combat boots on.

Hoch kept his eyes closed, breathing slowly, while Matt kept gently stroking his sweat-damp hair, not sure where else to touch. Every part of Hooch’s body had been tortured, and every touch would bring more pain: the last thing in the world Matt was willing to do.

They lay like that for half an hour, during which Matt reached for a bottle of lucozade with a straw close by, helping Hooch take slow sips until he had emptied it.

Finally, Hooch opened his eyes. Matt had never seen them like that: dark and soft, nothing but calm and utter peace in them. Hooch’s voice was raspy and broken as he whispered: “thank you.”

Matt leaned over and pressed another kiss to Hooch’s lips. No words, because they didn’t need words. Putting the empty bottle on the bedside table, he eased out of the bed and went to the bathroom to start filling the tub, before pressing the call-button that would summon a staff member. The woman was there as Matt opened the door, and asked for their bags to be brought to the room.

Turning back to the bed, Matt stripped under Hooch’s half-lidded gaze, before pouring a glass of water and offering a couple of painkillers. “Take these.” An order, despite his gentle voice, and Hooch obeyed without hesitation. All of his movements were sluggish and revealed the pain he had to be in, but he lifted his head and swallowed the pills with a few mouthfuls of water. Matt smiled and reached for Hooch. “Bath, then nap.” An instruction this time. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to head back to the hotel.”

Hooch let himself be helped up, heavily relying on Matt’s support, and accepting it for once. More sated and more safe than he’d ever been before.

* * *

The next morning, after a light breakfast because neither of them really feeling like eating, despite the hotel’s sumptuous spread, Matt drove back to Fayetteville with Hooch half-asleep in the passenger seat. The road was nearly deserted on a long weekend’s Sunday morning, giving Matt plenty of time to think.

The gym was quiet when they returned just after lunch, with only a few die-hards working out. Mandy was not due to come back until the Tuesday morning, bringing Rex back with her. Still quiet, they hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to each other since the club, they went upstairs to the apartment, where Matt decided to get a load of washing going.

Hooch had sat himself down on the sofa, but soon slid down to lie on his side, putting weight onto his badly bruised and abused ass was too much, and the car ride had already tested his stoicism to the limits. Each and every of his movements was stiff and slow, but he had a deep calm about him he’d never displayed before. His eyes tracked Matt as he went to and fro with the laundry basket, lying still and silent, he kept watching.

With the washing machine started, Matt went and got a bottle of water out of the fridge and two glasses, and walked to the sofa. Instead of sitting on it and jostling Hooch, he sat on the floor, and poured two glasses, handing one over. “Was that…” Matt began, “how you thought it would be?” Not sure what he had expected before going to the club, even less sure what Hooch had been expecting.

“Better.” Hooch took a sip of water, studying Matt’s face with quiet focus. “You?”

“Knowing is still different to actually
knowing
, if you get what I mean.” Matt paused and put his full glass of water down on the coffee table with a little clunk. “Do you…” he knew the answer, but wanted the comfort of the confirmation. “Do you want me to go with you again?”

“Yes.” Hooch’s reply was firm and came without hesitation. “I want you to go with me every time, but the decision is not mine.” He smiled slightly. “What do you want?”

As he thought. As he had known. “I want…” Matt stopped. “I want to think about it a bit. I wouldn’t be able to see you do
that
every month,” ‘that’ such an inadequate word, “but I don’t know whether that means I don’t go every time, or that we don’t do that every time.” He leant down, still on the floor, but head and one shoulder on the sofa, close to Hooch. “I’d like to go again,” he said truthfully, “but let me think about the details for a bit.”

“Of course.” Hooch’s smile deepened. “Maybe I won’t crave
that
so much if you come with me all the time.” Crave, not need. He was beginning to understand the difference.