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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
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John Steiner glared sullenly at Tom and Doug. “I told you, I was just shootin’ my mouth off. I don’t know nothin’ about that cop’s disappearance.”
Tom stepped forward and placing his palms flat on the table, he leaned forward so that he was just inches from the defiant man’s face. “I’m rapidly losing patience,” he murmured in a threatening tone. “You have thirty seconds to tell me what you know or I’m going to throw your ass in jail.”
Steiner tilted his chair back and folding his arms across his chest, he sneered back arrogantly. “For what? Spouting a load of bullshit in a bar?”
Penhall moved forward and towered over the man. “Oh we can think up a hundred bogus charges,” he informed him in a pseudo pleasant voice. “Drugs, assault, suspicion of kidnapping, underage pornography, rape…”
“Whoa!” Steiner interrupted and his chair crashed back down onto four legs. “I ain’t no fag! I never touched that…” His eyes grew wide and his face visibly paled when it slowly dawned on him that Penhall had tricked him.
“Never touched who,” Tom asked through clenched teeth. When Steiner remained stubbornly silent, Tom finally lost his temper. Shoving the table violently forward, it slammed against Steiner’s stomach and pinned him against the wall. Penhall turned away and studied his cuticles, signaling to Hanson that if he wanted to beat the crap out of their suspect, he had complete freedom to do so and it would remain their little secret.
Steiner attempted to push the table away but Tom kept his weight against it, trapping him in his chair. “One… last… time,” he enunciated slowly. “Where… is he?”
Sweat trickled down Steiner’s blotchy face and into his squinty eyes but his arms remained trapped by the table and he was unable to wipe it away. “I ain’t saying no more,” he mumbled defiantly. “I want a lawyer.”
**
Conan unlocked the door and pushing it open, he carried in the tray of food he had prepared. It had been five days since Dennis had eaten and he was not about to risk his new toy dying of starvation. He had paid good money for his plaything and he wanted to enjoy him for many years to come.
Kicking the door closed with a bang, he smiled when he saw Dennis’ body jump at the sound. As he strode across the room, his captive scurried over to the far corner and pulled his knees protectively to his chest. “Aww c’mon beautiful, where’s my welcome?” Conan laughed. “Don’t you wanna give Daddy a kiss?”
Booker’s body started to tremble and he buried his face in his arms. His mind was regressing, due partly to the drugs and partly to the abuse and a childlike logic was slowly taking over. If he could not see, then he could not be seen. He was invisible and therefore, he was safe.
A warm hand touched his shoulder and he jumped in fright. Lifting his head, he stared at his abuser with frightened eyes. But when a gentle hand stroked at his hair, he let out a soft moan of pleasure. It seemed like years since he had felt the tender touch of another human being and he reveled in the contact. He had suffered only violence and abuse for nearly a week and he wanted to be comforted, even if it was by his rapist.
Conan gazed down at the dark head officer with an amused smile. “Do you like that baby doll?” he crooned softly as Dennis nudged against his hand, urging him on. “Do you wanna make Daddy happy?”
Dennis stared up with wide, confused eyes. More than anything, he wanted the tender caress to continue. He was exhausted, his body throbbed painfully and he craved affection… he wanted to feel loved.
Closing his eyes, he nodded his head. He would agree to anything if the gentle hand continued to comfort him.
“That’s my boy,” Conan murmured and pulling down his zipper, he let his jeans fall around his ankles. Reaching into his boxers, he pulled out his cock and trailed his fingers up and down the long shaft. “And when we’re done, you can have something to eat, okay beautiful?”
The thought of food made Dennis’ stomach rumble and he did not resist when two gentle hands guided his head upwards. He could see Conan’s huge erection in front of his face and he was terrified but he knew what he had to do and if he did it well, he would be rewarded. Anything was better than the brutal rapes, even sucking cock.
Conan continued to caress Dennis’ hair with a gentle hand. “C’mon beautiful,” he whispered, his voice dripping with arousal. “Wrap that pretty mouth around me.”
Taking a deep breath, Dennis leaned forward and placed his lips around the bulbous head of Conan’s cock. The large man gasped in pleasure and pushing his hips forward, he forced his cock deeper into Dennis’ warm, moist mouth. “Fuck yeah,” he sighed and running his fingers through his captive’s dark hair, he rocked his hips slowly back and forth. “Suck me brown eyes, suck me.”
Dennis closed his eyes and focused on not gagging. He could feel tender fingers playing with his hair and he concentrated on the sensation and not on the huge cock fucking his mouth. Salty precum coated his tongue but he did not react. He wanted to please his captor, to give the best blowjob possible and then he could fill his cramped stomach with food and maybe feel the gentle touch of loving hands rather than the pain of violence.
Conan’s thrusting became more frenetic and he started to pant, “Oh fuck… oh fuck… oh fuck…” Moments later, his fingers ripped at Dennis’ hair and with a yell of delight, he climaxed.
Dennis’ first instinct was to pull away but strong hands held him firm and his eyes bulged as he tried not to choke on the warm fluid that flooded his throat. He had no choice but to swallow and his body shuddered in revulsion but he managed to control his gag reflex and keep the salty semen down.
Minutes passed and finally Conan removed his softening cock and tucked himself away. “Not bad for a first time,” he praised and reaching down, he cupped Dennis’ face in his meaty hand. “Are you hungry? ‘Cause I bought you some food and then after you’ve had a little nap, I’m gonna move you to your new home.”
A small smile graced Dennis’ cracked lips and when Conan held out a hand, he grasped the thick fingers and hauled himself off the floor. A strong arm wrapped around his waist and he leaned heavily against his captor as he was helped to walk the few feet to where the tray of food lay on the floor. Dropping to his knees, he hungrily grabbed at the sandwich and crammed it into his mouth. He was so engrossed in the food that he did not feel the prick of the needle as it punctured the skin of his upper arm and injected yet more drugs into his system.
**
Tom closed the interrogation room door with a bang and stared at Doug despondently. “This is fucking hopeless. He’s lawyered-up and now we’re never going to get the truth out of him. I should have beaten him to a pulp when I had the chance.”
Placing a reassuring arm around his friend’s shoulders, Doug gave him a squeeze. “He’s a coward, if he thinks he’s going to do major prison time he’ll cut a deal. Trust me.”
Exhaling heavily, Tom ran a trembling hand over his mouth. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered, “because if not, we’ve just wasted three hours for nothing.”
Not wanting to discourage Tom any further, Doug kept a neutral expression. He did not feel anywhere near as optimistic as he pretended to be but there was no point in letting Tom know that. They needed to keep level heads and not let their personal involvement in the case get in the way of doing their jobs. Booker had been missing for five days and each hour that passed made finding him less and less likely.
Lowering his arm, he nodded towards the main operations room. “Coffee?” he suggested.
“Sure,” Tom sighed glumly and with sagging shoulders, he slowly followed Doug in search of the caffeine that would keep his mind awake.
**
The dream was vivid in its clarity. He was lying in Conan’s arms, their bodies draped across a huge bed swathed in blue satin sheets that shimmered like sunlight dancing across the ocean. Light fingertips trailed over his growing erection, gently teasing him to life and his body squirmed beneath the stimulating touch. His arousal was intoxicating and he thrust his pelvis forward, urging the gentle fingers to explore him further; to tug, to stroke, to rub, to make him grow like a flower towards sunlight. He longed to release his juices, to cover the tender hand with his essence and show him how much he loved him, how grateful he was to him, how he wanted to be with him forever…
Dennis woke with a jolt. He was lying alone on the cold cement floor, his erect cock grasped tightly in his right hand. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he tried to clear his addled mind. But his throbbing erection dominated his thoughts and closing his eyes, he started to jerk off. As his arousal intensified, sweat slicked his naked body and he shivered from excitement and the chill night air. His hand worked faster and he started to pant. He was close and he longed to gain his release. A soft moan escaped his lips as he imagined a hot mouth enveloping his weeping cockhead and with a strangled cry, his seed shot forth and covered his cold, numb fingers.
A moment of lucidity filled his mind and tears streamed down his face. He no longer knew who he was or what his body craved. It was frightening and he feared the drugs were damaging his brain, creating a blurred line between reality and fantasy. He was a lost soul being ferried by Charon across the River Styx and towards the Underworld. He was losing his grip on this world and once he reached the other side, there was no hope of returning to the life he once knew… he would remain lost forever.
Drawing his knees to his chest, he curled into the fetal position and allowed his mind to regress back to his fantasy. It was safe there and he was protected from the harsh light of reality, the pain that wracked his body and the knowledge that he was slowly losing his mind.
**
Conan stood up and surveyed his handiwork. In front of him loomed a large cage with a single door running the length of the front. Inside, a king-size mattress took up most of the floor space, there were no sheets but two plump pillows decorated the futon. A slow grin played over his lips when he imagined Dennis lying on the mattress in his new home, naked and compliant, just waiting to be fucked and reaching down, he stroked his cock through the material of his denims.
Walking around the cage, he continued to fondle himself as he tested the sturdiness of the construction by rattling the bars. The cage took up about a quarter of the basement floor and it was high enough for his captive to stand up and move around in. Apart from the bed, the only other items in the homemade prison were a toilet and hand basin that he had plumbed in the day before. Wanting to give Dennis some level of privacy, he had hung a curtain around the makeshift bathroom, however, that was the only privacy he would allow his toy to have. He wanted him naked and ready for the taking whenever he felt the urge and he knew the urge would be often. Dennis was an Adonis, a modern day God of beauty and desire and he was the perfect piece of ass to fuel his sexual appetite. He had dreamed of the day that he would have a willing slave whose body he could enjoy day and night without complaint and now he had him, he owned him. The young cop had only been in his care for a few days and already he was training him, teaching him that he would be rewarded and the pain would go away if he just did as he was told. It was simple mind control and Conan was a master at it. His id, the dark inaccessible part of his personality dominated his unconsciousness. The pleasure principle overrode his superego; he never felt remorse or guilt, his id ruled, demanding immediate satisfaction and ignoring the reality and logic of the everyday world. In the words of a high school teacher, whose name was long forgotten in the annals of his mind, he was a typical psychopath. His id and ego dominated over his deficient superego; he had no morals and he existed on unadulterated pleasure only.
Walking into the cage, he lay down on the mattress and released his cock from the confines of his jeans. As he stroked himself to hardness, he imagined Dennis’ full lips wrapped around him and his body shivered in anticipation. In a few short hours, his dark haired Adonis would be safely hidden in the basement of his unassuming middle class home, free from prying eyes and free for him to do as he pleased.
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind