Break & Enter Ch. 01: The Clubhouse

All participants are over 18. This story contains scenes of non-consensual sex.

*****

"Oh, yeah, baby, now I'm gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours!"

It didn't matter if the muscles in his jaw were cramping from exhaustion or his knees hurt. Travis knew his duty was to continue pleasuring the cock even as it erupted in his mouth. The first viscous wad of semen blasted into his throat while Travis's tongue tickled the glans of the man's penis. The cock pulsed again and a load of cum sprayed the back of his mouth. Another twitch was followed by another whitewash. The man's hips thrust in and out against Travis's mouth, fucking his face with enthusiasm. The rhythm shook Travis's chains and made them jingle together loudly, reminding the young man how he came to be chained to a urinal in a dark and forbidding mansion outside of his home town...

Everyone knew the stories. The Clubhouse was not just any mansion estate, so the local legend went; it was the very seat of a depraved secret group of demon worshippers. It was a cult. It was run by the mob. It was a commune. It was HQ for a secret government agency. It was the site of a great treasure hoard. It was one of the seven gateways to Hell.

Travis had heard the rumours ever since he was a boy and he always listened with fascination when the Clubhouse was mentioned in casual conversation by the adults around him. As a teen, he joined in with his friends on the perennial dare to run up to the house in the dark of night and look into the main floor and basement windows in the hope of seeing a strange ritual or a human sacrifice before being chased away by security officers. Travis's friends tired of the game and forgot about the Clubhouse.

Travis did not.

He was convinced there was some sort of foundation beneath the local urban legends. Some of these were more probable than others. He suspected that there likely were riches on hand; the place reeked of wealth. But he couldn't begin to guess which other parts of the legends were true and which were just stories. He became determined to find out.

He planned for a long time and didn't talk to anyone about the Clubhouse, so nobody would think of him when someone asked if they knew anyone interested in the place. He had no criminal record and he didn't want to be a suspect in its burglary. For no less was his plan than to force entry into the place, to lay his hands on as much cash or movable wealth as he possibly could and make his way out again, and in the process solve the mystery of the Clubhouse once and for all.

It was an ambitious plan but he was determined to execute it alone. He had seen on television over and over again that criminals were captured because they trusted the wrong people. There was never any knowing who were the right people. It was safer to do this on his own.

The first part of his plan was simple.

Just as in those old teenage dares, he approached the house in darkness. The front and back of the house were lit at night with flood-lights, but there were holes in the security they provided. On one side of the house, the yard was hidden in shadow right up to a small basement window. Travis only knew it was there because he reconnoitred the area in daylight a few weeks before and carefully analyzed the photographs he had taken. He had only to make it across the lawn and reach the small window without being noticed by Security.

And the place had a significant security contingent. Travis had not seen men patrolling the grounds often, but there were usually guards posted at the main entrances. Tonight the parking lot was full and guests were arriving. Travis considered this an added bonus as the guests kept Security occupied.

There were cameras trained on all sides of the house, but he was willing to bet that his attire would conceal him from view. He gambled that they couldn't detect him in the dark in his black pants, black shoes and a black hoodie.

He easily pressed the window open. He was relieved that it was not necessary to break it. Just the same, he was surprised at the security oversight; the window hadn't even been locked. If Security was this shoddy, he had every reason to feel confident. Travis stuck his head through the window. It opened into an unfinished part of the house. It was dark and appeared unoccupied. He reached through and dropped his bag inside. Then he pushed his way in through the window feet first. It was a tight fit, barely manageable. It was a bit of a drop from the window to the floor, but he landed like a cat. It was a quiet entry.

Once inside, Travis noticed an old ladder leaning against a wall in the basement. It would be perfect to help him up and out of the window when he needed to leave. Travis set it up in front of the window so it would be ready when he needed it.

Gauging his surroundings with his flashlight, Travis saw little of interest in this part of the basement. There was a door. Travis put his ear against it and heard music and muffled, distant voices that neither drew closer nor receded. Deeming it worth the risk, Travis softly opened the door a crack and looked through. There was one other door in a lit hallway that led to a set of stairs. There was no one out there.

Travis crept out into the hallway and once more set his ear against a door. It was a thick steel door and double-padlocked. It was quiet on the other side. He might try to break the locks later and search the room. The distant voices must be up the stairs.

As he approached the steps, he realized the voices were raised in song, a kind of rhythmic choral chant. It was not church music; rather, it reminded him of horror movie music. Maybe these people were demon worshippers after all. A shiver went down Travis's spine.

Sneaking up the stairs was simple enough; he had feared the stairs would creak, but they were solid and silent. At the top, a door was slightly ajar. Travis peered through the crack.

What he saw astonished him.

There was a fabulously appointed room with a magnificent high ceiling and chandeliers. There were paintings hung on the walls and busts and sculptures were placed between ornate furnishings.

Surrounding those furnishings were men and women in long, expansive and mysterious hooded robes of crimson, gold, white or black. And in the middle of the room were a couple of dozen men and women in various states of undress performing every kind of sex act imaginable upon each other.

Travis's eyes widened as he watched a beautiful woman riding on the dick of one of the robed men, her nipples being pinched and twisted by another woman. Then his eyes moved to a man performing oral sex on a young woman while she sucked the cock of another hooded man. Beside this trio were two men fucking. Every combination of sexual congress was taking place before Travis's eyes and he was fascinated.

And aroused. He was a young man after all.

The distraction was his undoing. The door opened wide in front of him and a red-robed figure looked down at him.

"Intruder!" the hooded man shouted.

Travis tore down the stairs and ran for the window. The hooded man, encumbered by his robes, could not give chase at Travis's speed. The young man climbed the ladder, and inserted himself in the open window and promptly got stuck half-way through.

As he wriggled and squirmed, hands landed on his legs and restrained him from making any further progress. The hooded man who had been chasing him had been joined by others. Three pairs of strong hands immobilized his legs. After a moment, Travis could feel another pair of hands as well and they appeared to be feeling up. Travis groaned in horror when that middle hand rubbed his crotch and then reached up and undid his button and fly.

In the meantime, a hooded figure in a black robe appeared wraith-like out of the night in front of him. He knelt down in front of Travis and realized that he was jammed at the waist in that window. He laughed and pulled his cock out of his robe. Travis couldn't see it very well in the dark but he could make out the shape hovering in front of his face.

Behind him, he was stripped of his shoes and socks and then his pants were peeled from his legs. His underwear soon followed. Those wandering hands pinched his ass cheeks. Then his legs were pulled apart by the other sets of hands and Travis was fully exposed.

Outside, the cock before him had begun to swell and expand and Travis knew what would happen next. Black Robe rubbed his oozing cock against Travis's cheeks, lips and chin. Travis kept his mouth tightly closed.

His eyes, already wide with terror, closed tightly as he braced for pain. The man behind him had just spit on his asshole and Travis knew what that meant.

"You want to break and enter? I'll show you break and enter!" Travis could hear him all too well through the blocked window.

An instant later, he felt the spongy tissue gyrating around his anus. Then he endured a shock of pain as the cock penetrated him up to the balls. He cried out and the robed man in front of him saw his opportunity. He shoved his long rod into the young man's open mouth, choking off his cry.

"If you want to get out of this window alive, you'd better suck for all you're worth." He had drawn a knife. It caught a pale reflection off the distant floodlights in the front yard.

The agony in his rectum persisted but not to the same degree. The thrusts in his ass made his top half rock in the ancient rhythm of sex. Travis closed his mouth gently over the Black Robe's cock and let his head jerk back and forth over it.

The man in front of Travis suddenly slapped him hard across the back of the head. "Watch your teeth," he said. "And use your tongue!"

The pain in his arse soon began to subside and Travis was grateful the man in his ass was not as brutal with him as the man in his mouth. He was partly aware that the pain had been replaced with an alien form of pleasure. Travis didn't notice that he had begun meeting that man's thrusts with his own counterthrusts.

"That's better," said the man fucking Travis's face. "Now close your lips tightly over the end and suck as you massage me with your tongue."

Travis obeyed. His cheeks caved in, forming a vacuum seal around the man's cock as he continued to bob to and fro along the length of his shaft.

"Aaaaah, yes!"

Behind him, his anal assailant was raising the tempo of his thrusts and this was setting the pace for Travis's oral ministrations on the black-robed man.

There was a squeal of pleasure on the other side of the glass. Travis felt the man plunge deep inside him and hold himself there as he sprayed Travis's intestines with his semen. Travis could not stop to analyze the foreign feeling. He could tell that Black Robe was close to coming as well.

"Aaaaahhhh!" Black Robe unloaded deep in the back of Travis's mouth. His taste buds were inundated with the salty flood. He found the flavour better than he feared or expected.

His own unexpected orgasm seemed to take place far away, though it didn't go unnoticed by Red Robe and his security detail.

A few minutes later, Travis was pulled back into the basement and stripped of his remaining clothes. He was force-marched by security and Red Robe, the robed man who had taken him from behind, up the stairs and through the crowded room he had spied before. Hooded figures and naked slaves turned to watch his passing. The fact that semen ran down the insides of his legs and his face was covered in spittle and cum was not unremarked upon. Travis blushed furiously to be the centre of such scrutiny.

They passed through a few such galleries, each more exotic than the last. Men and women indulged eagerly in wanton carnality in each one. Some were naked and many wore robes.

Finally, they came to a door guarded by a sinister-looking guard wearing an executioner's hood.

The guard checked Red Robe's credentials and knocked at the door. The command to enter was issued from within and the guard opened the door for them.

Inside the room was a fat man at a desk. He wore a white robe with gold trim, but his hood was thrown back.

"Forgive the intrusion, Grand Master."

Travis was half in shock at his ordeal, so he found it difficult to think clearly, but he realized this was clearly the man in charge.

"What do we have here?"

"An intruder. He is the one you expected."

Wait. Expected? Travis thought.

"Why so he is. It is hard to recognize him under that mess on his face." The Grand Master shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "So, tell me, son. Why did you come here? Were you seeking wealth perhaps?"

It seemed unsafe to lie. Travis nodded.

The fat man nodded back. "Well, there is wealth here, but not the kind you were seeking. Let's say we are rich in the currency of human pleasure."

"Perhaps richer now, Grand Master," Red Robe said, pointing down at Travis. "He is fresh. He could fetch a price on the market."

The fat man seemed to consider it.

"You can't hold me here. Call the police if you want, but you can't hold me."

Red Robe laughed.

"Go ahead," the Grand Master said with a smile. "Show him."

Red Robe pushed back his hood. "I am the police."

Oh, God, Travis thought. It was true. Travis recognized him from a speech he gave back when Travis was back in high school. He wasn't just any officer; he was the local chief of police.

And he was the man behind me at the window...

"You looked surprised when Chief Brossard said you were expected. You shouldn't have been. About a week ago you were at the edge of the property taking photographs. You're not the first to do so. It is almost always the first step in an assault upon our privacy. We've had a dedicated watch on duty for you ever since. You never had a chance, but we thought we'd indulge your curiosity. We even left a light off and a window unlocked for you."

Travis felt so stupid. He'd been played. But to what purpose?

"But now, we're faced with a small problem. You have seen too much to leave."

"Trust me," Travis said, thinking of his ravaged ass and his abused throat. "I don't want anyone to know about what happened here tonight."

"Of course, I'd like to believe you, but the Brotherhood has kept its secrets in this house for a hundred years. We don't trust lightly and never when we don't have to." The Grand Master smiled. "And we don't have to now."

"But... but... if I go missing, it'll raise questions. People know I was coming here. You have to let me go."

"Your disappearance would raise questions, but thousands of people disappear without a trace each year. You would be just one more unsolved case. As for others knowing you're here, I believe you're lying. If I'm wrong, the chief of police will search these premises personally to ensure everything is in order. On the other hand, if you are found dead, that is more easily explained."

The Grand Master cracked his knuckles. He had made his decision.

"We're going to give you a choice. You can be a missing person or you can be a cadaver. If you choose the latter, rest assured your corpse will be staged in such circumstances as will prove to the authorities that your death was an unfortunate accident. Your body will be found many miles from here."

Travis gritted his teeth. With the chief of police as a member of this cabal, this was a plausible threat. He was in a position to strongly influence any investigation.

"If you choose rather to be a missing person, your choices widen significantly. You can work hard to satisfy our demands of you, and remain within our care or, if you disappoint us, you can be sold to a Sheikh half-way around the world, where you will be used far more cruelly and resistance will not be an option. Either way, your parents and family will never know the failure and shame you've now made of your existence."

Travis could see that his family would suffer his loss terribly, but it was better they never know his true fate as a slave of the Brotherhood.

The fat man paused as he weighed up Travis's choices.

"I expect you will choose to go missing. I can see from the cum on your face that you are a survivor."

If the Grand Master had been a betting man, he'd have collected on his prediction for Travis.

"You may express your appreciation." The fat man parted the front of his robe to expose his hairy cock. Taking his earlier lessons to heart, Travis took it in his mouth and began sucking it like his life depended on it. He was pretty sure that was true.

And so, Travis was admitted to the ranks of the Brotherhood's sex slaves. At first, he was not trusted by his masters or his fellow slaves. New slaves are often erratic, still thinking of escape. To remedy this, Travis was assigned to the head slaver, who spent a week breaking his resistance by means ancient and modern. Travis's meals were laced with addictive secret compounds that clouded his thoughts. He was schooled in the arts of giving men and women sensual pleasure and he was trained to take his own pleasure only by giving. The other male slaves were invited to impose their dominance on him by forcing him to suck their dicks or submit his ass for their use. By the end of the first week, Travis was quite biddable and excited to join the more experienced slaves for the main floor orgies. That would not happen for some time to come. For the time being he had to hone his craft of giving pleasure.

And so, he found himself chained to the urinal of the employee's washroom, sucking off the chef opening his ass to the chief of security. In truth, all of the male staff from valets to waiters, security officers to housekeepers, had the use of him for sixteen hours a day. When he was not in use, he could lay down on a little pallet just with-in the range of his chain.

"Oh, yeah, baby, now I'm gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours!"

Travis swallowed the surveillance technician's titanic load willingly and skilfully. The man's hips thrust in and out against Travis's mouth, fucking his face with enthusiasm, forcing the silky cum down Travis's throat. The rhythm shook Travis's chains and made them jingle together loudly, a reminder of his new life of servitude and of a time before he was broken, when he felt such things as curiosity about the Clubhouse.