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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
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The early evening sun steadily dropped toward the western horizon, its fading rays filtering in through the white Venetian blinds, creating slatted shadows across the hard timber floor. Booker stood in the middle of an exquisitely decorated bedroom, unsure exactly what he was supposed to do. After following his host into the billiard room, he had sat stiffly on a bar stool nursing a glass of fifty-year-old scotch as he listened to Holland talk about his illustrious career. His senses were on high alert, and wary of becoming intoxicated, he had sipped cautiously at his drink while feigning interest in the boastful commentary. But now, an hour later, he found himself alone after Holland had shown him to the master bathroom so he could wash up for dinner. But once the mogul had left the room, he had taken the opportunity to use the vintage Candlestick telephone to call Fuller. He had quickly explained he needed a few days off work to visit his sick mom, and although he hated deceiving his captain, the lie had rolled easily off his tongue. A flush had heated his cheeks when Fuller sent best wishes to his mother, but the shame did not last long. He had other concerns on his mind, and it was then he seriously began to question the wisdom of his decision. By agreeing to have sex with the tycoon, he was effectively at Holland’s mercy. While he knew he could take care of himself if need be, he had still entered into an agreement without discussing all the terms. If the scars on Jorge’s torso were any indication, Holland liked to play rough, and although an experienced and adventurous lover, Booker rarely bottomed, and therefore, the idea of becoming the more submissive partner unnerved him. However, it was too late to back out now, and the memory of Hanson’s tortured eyes was all it took for him to refocus on his objective. He would suffer in silence if it would save his beloved Tommy from a lifetime of misery because giving his friend closure was all that mattered… even though the idea of submitting to Holland made him nervous. After all, love wasn’t love unless you were willing to sacrifice something for it.
When a warm hand caressed his lower back, Booker instinctively shied away, but the firm hand grasped his hip and slowly spun him around. Holland’s jade eyes danced mischievously in front of him, and his stomach somersaulted with nerves. He started to speak, but the persistent hand found its way down to his crotch, and as expert fingers gently massaged his cock, his words were inhaled along with his breath.
“Mmm, you’re a big boy,” Holland crooned, his eyes blackening with arousal as his fingers eagerly explored Booker’s hardening cock.
Embarrassed by the compliment, Booker grasped the mogul’s wrist and attempted to pull his hand away, but the sixty-two-year-old was not about to let the dark-haired officer dissuade him, and he continued to fondle the long shaft thickening between his fingers. “I think dinner can wait, don’t you?” the older man murmured softly, his tongue trailing seductively over his full lips. “So why don’t you strip naked so I can see what I’m paying for.”
Humiliation burned Booker’s face, and lowering his eyes, he remained motionless as he struggled to maintain his composure. But seconds later, cruel fingers squeezed his sensitive cock, and with a yelp, he quickly lifted his gaze to find a demonic glint had replaced the passion in Holland’s eyes.
“What the hell?” he squeaked, the mistreatment of his semi-erect cock causing it to throb painfully.
Without pause, Holland once again clenched his fingers around Booker’s shaft, and glaring at him through narrowed lids, he spoke in a cold, affectless tone. “I… said… strip.”
Fear flickered in Booker’s dark eyes, but he remained outwardly calm, and arching an eyebrow, he nodded toward his crotch. “You’re gonna need to let go if you want me to undress,” he stated in a flat voice.
With a cordial smile, Holland released Booker’s cock and took a step back. Although he had bought himself some time, Booker knew he could not stall forever, and with an audible sigh, he kicked off his boots and removed his socks. After pulling his tee shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor, he took in a deep, uneven breath while attempting to slow his thundering heart. But when Holland took a menacing step toward him, he quickly unbuckled his belt rather than face another assault on his already aching cock. Without waiting for instructions, he popped the button of his jeans and lowered the zipper. The action caused the rhythm of Holland’s breathing to intensify, and before long, his rasping pants weighted the air, creating a suffocating dungeon in Booker's mind. For the briefest of moments, the dark-haired officer hesitated, but when Tom’s face flashed before his eyes, he knew there was no turning back, and exhaling a resigned sigh, he allowed the denim to pool around his ankles.
“Yes,” Holland breathed, and inserting his thumbs in the waistband of Booker’s boxers, he lowered the soft material to the floor.
Released from its confines, Booker’s cock jutted out rigidly from a nest of coarse, dark curls; his erection thick, proud and ready for action. His smooth, mushroom-shaped cockhead blushed purple as blood rushed through his shaft, hardening him further. Confused by his growing awakening, the conflicting reactions of arousal and shame fought for dominance over his body. But he was a red-blooded twenty-three-year-old male in his sexual prime, and eventually, his cock won the emotionally charged battle. His eyes fluttered closed and exhaling a jagged, expectant breath, he willed Holland to touch him and bring forth his release.
However, the Keymaster had other ideas, and he forcefully shoved Booker toward the bed. “On your hands and knees, boy,” he growled, his callous tone immediately devouring any residual pretense of comradery from his voice. “I’m going to fuck you till you bleed.”
Now that the concept of sex with Holland was fast becoming a reality, Booker’s resolve began to falter, and he watched with growing apprehension as the mogul undressed before eventually speaking his mind. “I don’t let anyone touch me unless they use a condom,” he informed the older man in a steady voice that belied his mounting anxiety. “So you’d better suit up, or the deal’s—”
CRACK! A closed fist slammed into the side of Booker’s head, sending him reeling. With his jeans and boxers around his ankles, he lost his footing, and staggering sideways, he collided with the nightstand and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Disoriented by the ferocity of the unexpected assault, fear clouded his eyes. “Wh-what—”
“NO TALKING!” Holland yelled, the command sending a jolt of déjà vu through Booker’s addled brain. McCarter had screamed the same warning during the hazing rituals, and the young officer wondered if the directive had become subconsciously ingrained within Holland during his Pi Tau days. But he had no time to ponder the complexities of the human psyche. Within seconds, he was hauled to his feet and pushed face down onto the king-size bed, before swift hands removed the tangle of clothing from his ankles. When he attempted to roll over, Holland grasped a handful of his hair and forcefully shoved his face into the mattress.
“FUCK!” Booker yelled, the curse word muted by the thick fabric of the diamond-stitched coverlet. He struggled to draw breath, his body writhing as he fought against the restraining hand that was slowly smothering him. “Lemme go! Lemme GO!”
Holland straddled Booker’s legs, pinning him to the bed with the weight of his body. “Are you going to be a good boy?” he purred, and without warning, he rammed a finger into Booker’s unprepared anus.
A sharp pain ripped through Booker’s insides, bringing tears to his eyes. “SHIT!” he screamed, his muffled cry swallowed into the depths of the mattress. “DON’T! DON’T!”
The controlling hand yanked the young officer’s head to the side, freeing his mouth and allowing him to breathe. Tears streamed down his face as he drew in some much-needed air, the oxygen burning his restricted lungs. Holland’s finger continued to probe inside him, humiliating him with each measured thrust. But when the tip grazed his prostate, a moan exhaled from between his lips, and his cock lengthened. It was then he realized the full extent of Tom’s shame. Holland was brutalizing him without his consent, and he was getting off on it, just like Tom had when McCarter raped him. Although he had comforted him at the time, he had not realized how dehumanizing the experience had made his friend feel. But now he was living the same nightmare, he finally understood the level of Tom's mortification. Holland was the puppeteer pulling the strings, and he was nothing more than a helpless marionette; his body was betraying him, and the psychological effect was crippling.
A soft laugh filled the room, followed by warm breath tickling Booker’s cheek, the sensation raising the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. “I’ll play nice if you promise to be a good boy,” Holland whispered, his tongue tenderly caressing the shell-like ridge of the young officer’s ear. “I know you like my finger up your ass, but if you want me to be gentle, you have to submit to me. Got it?”
Hot tears burned Booker’s eyes, his mounting shame slowly suffocating his ego and dousing the fire within his soul. He was about to surrender his body willingly to a man who elicited pleasure by inflicting pain on others, thereby becoming a sexual slave. Although he had voluntarily agreed to Holland’s proposition, it was only now, as he lay immobilized on the bed while the tycoon digitally stimulated him that he understood the impact of his decision. Holland had all the power, and he was nothing more than a dispensable toy. If he refused to play along, he would not retrieve the tapes, leaving Tom in a permanent state of panic and unrest. But if he did play along, he risked losing his self-worth, and he wondered what impact it would have on his life. While his cocksure bravado was mostly an act designed to deflect the unwanted ridicule and criticism he often endured due to his bisexuality, it did in part, define him, especially since he became a cop. Therefore, losing such an integral part of his being would undoubtedly alter his personality forever. It was a frightening prospect, and yet the thought of Tom never regaining his self-esteem troubled him even more, and so he allowed the life-changing words to tumble freely from his lips.
“Okay,” he gasped, the fiery pain flaring in his anus reducing him to a mass of quivering flesh. “I’ll be good! I’ll be good!”
A sinister smile played over Holland’s full lips. “I’ll be good, what?”
Confusion furrowed Booker’s brow as he struggled to comprehend the meaning of the question. “I’ll be good, sir?” he ventured in a trembling voice.
The reverent display of respect had the desired effect, and the probing finger withdrew, sending instant relief flooding through Booker’s body. But the reprieve was temporary, and choking on a sob, he closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate.
The ruling king had outplayed the helpless pawn, and the gerent would spare no mercy...
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness