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To Chase a Feather in the Wind	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1696 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 12
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- 14
Two days later
The visiting room of the county jail was small, drab and smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Penhall sat at a round table and as he waited for Ferris to appear, he casually studied the other prisoners in the room, all of which were deep in conversation with their respective loved ones. As a police officer, it fascinated him how some individuals fell afoul of the law and he had read various articles on the subject. Many criminologists believed environment was to blame and that a person’s upbringing steered them towards a particular path in life. Then there was the Choice Theory that was the belief that individuals chose to commit a crime and that they weighed up the benefit versus the punishment and decided whether or not it was worth the risk. Lastly, there were those who adhered to the Gene Theory, the idea being that certain people were predestined to become criminals because of mental illness or bad brain chemistry.
As the theories churned around in his mind, his thoughts turned to Booker and a deep frown creased his brow. As far as he knew, Dennis came from a stable, loving home. Also, he was pursuing a career in law enforcement and yet despite all of that, he had committed a violent, heinous crime against a man who had shown him nothing but kindness since his own brutal rapes. So where did he fit in the upbringing versus choice versus genes debate? Maybe there was a fourth alternative… circumstances. Would Booker have raped Tom if he had not been raped himself and if so, did that scenario fit into the Environment Theory or was it grounds for a completely different argument? He had no idea but the confusion of it all was starting to stress him out. He felt the beginnings of a tension headache and closing his eyes, he rubbed at his temples and tried to put all thoughts of Tom’s rape out of his mind.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled him back to the present and opening his eyes, he stared into Ferris’ amused face. “What’s so funny?” he growled.
Ferris’ thin lips pulled back in a sinister smile. “Officer Penhall, how nice to see you. How is Officer Hanson? Feeling better I hope.”
Doug jumped to his feet and reaching over the table, he grabbed the front of Ferris’ prison overalls and hauled him across the table. “You smug sonofabitch,” he spat, his eyes blazing with red-hot anger. “This is all your fault.”
A prison guard stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let him go Officer Penhall, he’s not worth it.”
With a growl, Doug pushed Ferris back into his chair. “You’re going to tell me everything you told Booker,” he snarled, “because if you don’t, I’m going to make your life in here a living hell. So I guess the question is, do you want the next few years of your life to be easy or hard?”
Tilting back his chair, Ferris laughed softly. “Nooo, the question is… what kind of man are you Officer Penhall?” When Doug gave him a questioning look, he continued with a taunting smile. “Do you want to save Officer Booker or are you seeking revenge for what he did to your beloved Officer Hanson? Good cop, bad cop... which one is it? On the one hand, my associate is probably committing unspeakable things to Officer Booker’s young, nubile body, but on the other, your colleague is a rapist who hurt your friend. Which one disturbs you more Officer Penhall? The pain that Officer Booker is going through right now at the hands of a psychopath or the pain he caused Officer Hanson?”
Penhall’s face burned red with fury and he clenched his fists into tight balls as he attempted to control his rage. “Just tell me where he is,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Ferris let out a sigh of boredom. “You’re not getting it Officer Penhall, I don’t care about you, I don’t care about Officer Hanson and I sure as hell don’t care about Officer Booker. This is nothing more than a mild amusement to me and if you want information, you’re going to have to give me a whole lot of something in return.”
Leaning over the table, Penhall glowered down at Ferris with hate-filled eyes. “What exactly are you asking for?”
A slow smile spread over Ferris’ thin lips. “I want all the charges against me dropped. Once you do that, I’ll tell you what I know.”
**
Booker woke with a start and groaning loudly, he hauled himself up into a sitting position. He trembled uncontrollably from the pain radiating through his body and holding his hand against the deep laceration on his stomach, he carefully hauled himself to his feet. The room immediately began to spin and he leaned heavily against the wall until his vision returned to normal. Then with slow, measured steps, he shuffled into the bathroom and relieved his bladder. After flushing the toilet, he grasped hold of the hand basin and studied his reflection in the mirror. Dark smudges circled his eyes and his face was drawn and pale, almost ghostly. Looking away, he turned on the faucet and washed his hands before drinking several handfuls of the cool refreshing water. Once he had quenched his thirst, he staggered back into the small bedroom and curled up on the mat at the foot of the double bed. He had strict rules that he had to adhere to; the most important one being that Daddy had forbidden him to sleep on the bed unless he was present and if he broke that rule, he paid for it with blood.
Just as he was about to close his eyes, he heard the key turn in the lock and lifting his head off the woven mat, he gazed expectantly at the door. Rule number two was that he always greeted Daddy with a smile and sitting up, he ran a trembling hand through his tangled hair and smiled through his pain.
“Hello beautiful,” Conan crooned softly and approaching the foot of the bed, he held up a syringe. “Do you want your medication?”
Booker’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude and bowing his head in servitude, he held out a shaky arm. “Yes please Daddy,” he murmured.
Squatting down on his haunches, Conan tied a rubber tourniquet around Dennis' arm and without any hesitation, he plunged the needle into the protruding vein and injected him with the yellowy-brown liquid.
As the cocktail of drugs coursed through his body, Booker felt his pain dissipate and with a sigh, he closed his eyes and lolled against Conan’s muscular body. Gentle fingers ran through his dirty hair as a faraway voice tenderly spoke to him. “Time to get you cleaned up baby doll.”
Strong hands lifted him to a standing position and he swayed drunkenly on his feet as he waited for instructions. “Jesus,” Conan muttered and wrapping an arm around Booker’s waist, he let out a frustrated sigh. “I guess I gave you too much.”
Booker smiled a goofy smile as he stumbled clumsily across the room with the help of Conan's supportive embrace. He was pain free and flying high and in his drug-induced mind, life could not be better. When they reached the bathroom, he leaned heavily against the wall and once again, his eyelids fluttered closed as he waited for Conan to strip naked and turn on the shower. He jumped slightly when warm fingers stroked his cock and opening his eyes, he grinned happily. He knew this scenario, when Daddy touched him in that way, it meant he would experience more loving and less pain. He was in for a treat.
“Ready beautiful?” Conan whispered against his ear as a hand continued to tease his cock to life.
“Yesh,” Booker slurred, his cock growing from the physical stimulation and his mind screaming for more. “Pleesh… Daaa-ddy… fuuuck… meee.”
Conan growled deeply and grabbing hold of Booker’s arm, he maneuvered him under the spray of water. Pushing his back against the tiled wall, he pressed against his naked body and kissed him brutally whilst the warm water cascaded over both their bodies. He groaned excitedly as his tongue absorbed Booker’s unique taste. But when he felt a hardness rubbing against him, he reached down and wrapping his fingers around Booker's erection, he gave it a forceful squeeze.
Dennis let out a strangled cry as pain shot through the sensitive nerves in his cock. Conan’s lips curled into a sadistic smile and breaking the kiss, he drew back and gazed into the confused eyes staring back at him. “I don’t want you coming too soon baby doll,” he commanded in a firm voice. “Daddy wants to get some lovin’ first.”
When his drug-induced mind finally comprehended the meaning of Conan’s words, Booker bowed his head and nodded. He had broken one of the golden rules; Daddy’s needs came first, not his.
Strong hands pressed down on his shoulders and dropping awkwardly to his knees, he waited for instructions. A firm hand grasped his chin and tilted his head upwards until his glazed eyes locked with his master’s ice-blue stare. “Suck me,” Conan demanded. “Get me hard.”
Dennis moistened his lips and took Conan’s huge appendage into his mouth. Cruel fingers ripped at his hair as he ran his lips over the semi erect shaft. Moaning in pleasure, Conan thrust his hips forward, forcing his cock deeper into Booker’s mouth. Trying not to gag, Booker opened his throat and allowed him access as the huge cock fucked his mouth. Precum coated his tongue and he reveled in the familiarity of the taste. This was what he lived for; this was his life.
Minutes passed before Conan finally withdrew, his cock now leaking heavily from the oral stimulation. “Get to your feet,” he growled, his voice heavy with arousal.
Booker staggered to an upright position and obediently turned to face the wall. His cock ached to be touched but he dared not disobey his Daddy; touching was strictly forbidden, unless he was instructed to do so. Spreading his legs in readiness, he hung his head and waited patiently. He flinched when a rough finger entered him, pushing through the tight muscle without any preparation. When a second finger pushed inside, he screwed his eyes closed and concentrated on suppressing the cry of pain that threatened to escape from between his lips. He was still damaged from the violent fisting he had received just days before and tears leaked from his eyes as the fresh wounds opened up and blood trickled from his anus.

“Aww baby, you’re bleeding,” Conan whispered as he continued to thrust his fingers deep inside Booker’s channel. “Was Daddy too rough on you last time?”
Panting heavily, Dennis shook his head. “N-No,” he gasped. “I l-liked it.”
Conan grinned manically and removing his fingers, he pressed his cock against Booker’s bloody hole. “Do you like this?” he asked with a laugh and pushing forward, he rammed his erection deep inside Dennis’ anus.
“YES!” Dennis cried out as pain ripped through his body. “Oh God… oh God!”
“That’s my boy,” Conan crooned and reaching down, he fondled Booker’s erection whilst fucking him from behind. “Do you wanna come for Daddy?”
Warm water cascaded over Dennis’ bowed head and bracing his hands against the tiled wall, he gasped at the exquisite combination of pleasure and pain that coursed through his body. “Yes, yes, yes… wanna come… wanna come,” he moaned.
With a grin, Conan lowered his head and bit down on the tender flesh between Booker’s neck and collarbone. Dennis screamed in pain and thrusting his hips forward, he shot his semen over the glistening white tiles. Blood pooled in Conan’s mouth, the metallic taste fueling his sexual desires and sucking hungrily at the ripped skin, he continued to ram his cock in and out of Booker’s tight passage. When he felt his orgasm rising, he clamped his teeth down hard on the soft flesh and growling like a rabid dog, he shook his head violently from side to side.
As Booker felt the flesh tearing from his body, he let out a primordial scream of pain. The tiled wall swam in front of him as his vision blurred and he felt his legs starting to give way. He struggled to remain standing but the pain was so intense, he wondered how long it would be before his legs buckled beneath him.
Conan held Booker upright until he had shuddered out the last of his seed and when he was spent, he forcefully withdrew and allowed his plaything to fall to the shower floor in a crumpled heap. Blood from Dennis’ various wounds mixed with the water and flowed in abstract swirls down the drain. He lay on the tiled floor, panting heavily from the pain and the euphoria of his orgasm. Moments later, the shower turned off and strong hands lifted him from the floor and carried him into the bedroom. He was gently laid on the mat at the foot of the bed and a soft fluffy bath sheet lovingly toweled him dry. He sighed contentedly, despite the searing pain in his shoulder and watched as Conan dried himself before discarding the towel on the floor. Weariness suddenly enveloped his body and he closed his eyes, only to open them seconds later when he felt himself lifted from the floor and placed onto the bed. A soft mewing sound escaped his lips as protective arms wrapped around his body and held him close.
“Go to sleep baby doll,” Conan muttered sleepily. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
Too tired and stoned to understand the full implication of Conan’s words, Booker closed his eyes and fell asleep.
**
One week later
Tom sat in the hard backed hospital chair and gazed distractedly out of the window. It was over a week since his assault and physically, he was healing as well as what was to be expected given his injuries, however, emotionally, he was a wreck. Nightmarish images plagued his dreams and he often woke up screaming, his body drenched in sweat at the memory of Dennis’ bloody and battered body lying in the cage in Conan’s basement. The nurses offered him sleeping pills but he feared the drugs would lock him in his nightmare, trapping him with the visions and so he had refused. Then, to add to his woes, the news had come back that Penhall’s request to have Ferris’ charges dropped had been denied by the Police Commissioner and therefore the filmmaker had refused to divulge Conan’s whereabouts. Doug had tried all matter of bribes, but Ferris remained stubbornly tight-lipped and they were no further forward in finding Booker and saving him from Conan’s abuse than they had been a week ago. The harsh realization that Booker could remain missing for weeks, months or even years ate away at Tom’s conscience and he found himself slowly spiraling into depression. He was to blame; everything was his fault and he was powerless to save the man he loved. He was, for all intents and purposes, useless.
As he gazed down at a group of children playing jump rope in the park, his thoughts turned to Penhall. After revealing his secret, he had begged his friend to keep it to himself and not report what he knew about the rape to their superior. Penhall had been unwilling at first but after witnessing Tom’s distress, he had reluctantly agreed. But over the last few days, Doug’s demeanor had changed. He had become distant and nervous and for Tom, it was a telltale sign that his friend was keeping something from him. So now, on top of his concern for Booker’s welfare, he had the added worry that Doug had betrayed his confidence.
Sighing heavily, he turned from the window and saw Adam Fuller standing in the doorway. “Hey Coach,” he muttered in surprise, “I thought Doug was picking me up.”
Fuller entered the room and closed the door. “How are you feeling Hanson?” he asked quietly.
Tom’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I’m fine Cap’n, looking forward to going home.”
Nodding his head, Fuller crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed. He stared down at his hands for several moments before lifting his head and looking Tom directly in the eyes. “Did Booker rape you Tom?”
Drawing in a sharp intake of breath, Tom jumped to his feet and stared at his Captain in disbelief. “Doug told you? That sonofabitch! How could he betray me like that? How could he—”
Fuller’s expression remained impassive. “Answer my question Hanson, I need to hear it from you. Did… Booker… rape you?”
Realizing that denial was pointless, Tom sat down heavily on the chair and covered his face with his hands. “Yes,” he sobbed, his body trembling with emotion. “But he didn’t mean it Cap’n, you’ve got to believe me, he didn’t mean it!”
Standing up, Fuller laid a gentle hand on Tom’s head. “We’ll talk about it at the Chapel tomorrow. Come on, let me take you home.”
Tom lifted his tear stained face and gazed imploringly at his superior. “This won’t change anything, will it Cap’n? I mean, we’re still going to keep looking for Booker, right?”
Clenching his jaw, Fuller let out a weary sigh. “We’ll see Hanson, I take my orders from the Commissioner so—”
“So what?” Tom exclaimed angrily. “That’s it? You’re just going to sit there and do nothing whilst one of your officers is drugged, beaten and raped by a psychopath?”
Fuller’s dark eyes filled with pain. “As of today, Booker is no longer a member of the Jump Street program, in fact, he is no longer a police officer; his badge has been revoked.”
Tom’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You’re fucking kidding me! Why would they do that? What happened to innocent until proven guilty? If I don't press charges, they've got nothing! NOTHING!”
“It’s not entirely about the rape Tom,” Fuller replied gently. “He willingly sought out Keppler and that means he either wanted revenge or he’s mentally unwell and freely offering himself up as a sacrificial lamb. Either way, the Commissioner has decided that he is no longer fit to serve on the force.”
Standing up, Tom angrily pushed past his Captain and picked up the small bag that held his belongings. “Get out," he muttered. ”I'll find my own way home."
Fuller started to protest but when he saw the hostile look on Tom’s face, he closed his mouth and walked silently from the room.
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- 14
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind