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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 8
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- 10
Booker and Penhall climbed the stairs to Tom’s apartment in silence. Neither had spoken a word since leaving the Chapel, both men feeling too angry to voice their shared apprehension at facing Hanson. As they exited the stairwell and walked down the well-lit hallway, Penhall suddenly placed a hand on Booker’s arm, forcing him to stop.
Dennis immediately pulled his arm away from Doug’s hold. “What?” he asked irritably.
Penhall huffed in annoyance and clenching his fists, he mustered all his strength to prevent himself from punching Booker in the face again. “I think I should be the one to talk to Tom,” he replied in firm voice. “He’s my best friend and I think he’ll respond better to me.”
Booker’s own fists curled into balls as he tried to contain his jealousy. It was true; Hanson and Penhall had a special relationship, a camaraderie that would cause many to feel envious. Although Dennis knew that what Doug was saying made perfect sense, he could not relinquish Tom’s welfare completely. He was stubborn and he wanted to be involved in helping Hanson through the most difficult time in his life. After all, he was the only one who had recognized that something was wrong with Tom and therefore, he felt justified in being involved in his recovery. An uncomfortable thought popped into his mind, the thought that his real agenda was to get close to Hanson, to have him in his life in any way possible. But he mentally berated himself. That was not the case at all, he was genuinely worried about Tom and he believed that the more people who showed the young officer that they cared, the easier it would be for him to recover from the horrors that the man had inflicted upon him.
“You can’t keep him from me,” Booker snapped back and when he saw the surprised expression on Penhall’s face, he instantly regretted his words.
Grabbing Dennis by the shoulders, Doug slammed him against the wall. Glaring deep into the dark-haired officer’s eyes, he could not keep the disgust out of his voice. “Is that what this is about? Are you trying to get close to Tommy because you’re in love with him?”
Shoving his hands against Penhall’s chest, Booker extricated himself from his assailant’s hold and returned the angry glare. “So what if I am? That’s none of your damn business and for your information, the reason I’m trying to help Hanson is because I’m concerned about him, not because I want to fuck him you sanctimonious prick.”
“I knew there was something off about you,” Penhall replied in a low voice.
Throwing back his head, Booker laughed a loud, hollow laugh. “A little homophobic are we Doug?” he sneered. “Is the thought of me lusting after your precious Tommy too much for you to handle?”
Penhall had the grace to blush a deep scarlet. “No Booker, I’m not homophobic. But I know you, you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you prey upon Tom.”
Tilting his head on one side, Dennis narrowed his eyes and gave Doug a quizzical look. “Prey upon him?” he queried in a quiet voice. “What kind of a person do you think I am?”
“A self centered one,” Penhall replied without pause. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself and you don’t give a shit who you hurt along the way. But I’ll tell you this, I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by and let you hurt Tom, especially now. I don’t like you Booker and Tom doesn’t like you either, so I think it would be best if you backed off and let me handle it.”
Booker felt hot tears stinging his eyes and he quickly lowered his gaze. He was well aware that he did not share a friendship with his fellow Jump Street officers but to hear the words that they actually disliked him was extremely painful.
Turning away, he walked slowly towards Tom’s door. “Fine,” he murmured. “Whatever you want.”
**
The sound of the heavy metal door squealing on its hinges pulled Tom from a fitful sleep. Clambering from the bed, he squinted his eyes against the bright light that shone from the open doorway. In the distance, he heard the loud toll of a clock striking the half hour. Deep in the recesses of his memory, he recalled hearing the exact same chime but his mind was too frightened to be able to remember where he associated the sound. Stepping backwards, he peered into the bright light and he jumped slightly as the door creaked closed. However, the light remained, shining brightly into his narrowed eyes.
“Face the wall,” the man’s voice commanded in a surly tone.
A surge of defiance flooded through Tom’s body. “And what if I don’t?” he asked, the bravado in his voice masking the terror he actually felt.
The bright light suddenly vanished, plunging the room into darkness. The hairs on the back of Tom’s neck stood up as he heard the scurrying of footsteps. He stumbled blindly through the inky blackness but he collided with the table. As he turned away, fifty thousand volts of electricity surged through his body and screaming in pain, he fell to the floor. The brilliant light once again flooded the room, revealing the man and his companion, a young man who was holding a pair of night vision goggles in one hand and a stun gun in the other.
The man grinned sadistically and moving away from the large, portable spotlight, he walked over to where Tom lay gasping on the floor. He stood for a moment before stomping his foot down on Hanson’s chest, eliciting a soft oomph from the prone officer’s lips. “Now Officer Hanson, are you going to be a good boy or do I need to instruct Edward to zap you again?” the man asked in a soft voice.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Tom choked, his arms wrapping tightly around his body. “Please!”
The man ignored Hanson’s pleas and a deep frown furrowed his brow. “I want an answer Officer Hanson,” he growled. “Are you going to be a good boy or not?”
A loud sob escaped Tom’s dry lips and snot bubbled from his nose. “YES!” he cried in a voice full of anguish and humiliation. “Just don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me!”
Squatting down, the man pulled out a pair of handcuffs and rolling Tom onto his side, he quickly restrained his wrists behind his back. Pulling out his gun, he placed it against Hanson’s temple and the officer immediately screwed his eyes shut, sure that he was about to meet his maker. The man laughed cruelly and taking out his handkerchief, he wiped the mucus from Hanson’s face. Keeping the gun pressed against his captive’s temple, the man reached out and caressed Tom’s cock through the thin cotton of his boxers. Hanson instinctively drew his knees to his chest and his reward was a stinging blow to the head with the butt of the gun.
Reeling from the vicious strike, Tom’s vision blurred and he let out a loud groan of pain but his throbbing head was quickly forgotten when he felt a callused hand remove his boxers. Struggling to pull away, he cried out as the man yanked his tethered arms viciously upwards, the force of the action painfully straining his shoulder joints. “STOP!” he yelled, fresh tears streaming down his face. “OH GOD STOP!”
The man released the pressure of his hold and allowed Tom’s arms to drop. Standing up, he grasped hold of the linked chain of the handcuffs. “Stand up,” he instructed in a loud voice.
Not wanting to experience any more pain, Hanson did as the man asked. Struggling to his feet, his eyes squinted closed when the he again felt the cold steel of the gun pressed against his temple. The man pushed him forward until he was standing at the end of the narrow wooden dining table. “Bend over,” the man commanded, his voice sounding husky with arousal.
Fear gripped at Hanson’s heart. He knew what was coming and his mind screamed at him to break free and run. But he felt paralyzed, his limbs unwilling to do as his brain instructed. When he did not move, the man slammed him forcefully against the table and he found his head and torso resting on the chipped, wooden slab. “Tie his legs Edward,” the man instructed his young lackey.
Edward licked his lips and moving forward, he squatted down next to the table. Pulling out two heavy pieces of rope, he maneuvered Tom’s left ankle so it rested next to the table leg and he quickly bound it to the wooden support despite Hanson’s efforts to prevent him from doing so. He repeated the process with Tom’s right ankle before standing up and gazing adoringly at his middle-aged companion. “May I secure his hands Mr. Bentley?” he asked excitedly.
The man smiled proudly at his protégé. “Yes Edward, you may,” he replied in a soft voice.
Taking several pairs of handcuffs out of his coat pocket, Edward used a key to release the left cuff from Tom’s wrist. Realizing that this was his last chance to escape, Hanson fought to break free but he instantly stopped when the gun pressed painfully against his temple. Tears spilled from his eyes and he watched in horror as Edward connected the handcuffs together to form a long chain. Holding onto the linked cuffs, Edward crawled under the table. The man moved to the side of the table and pulled Tom’s right arm to the side. Edward clicked the handcuff in place and scrambled out from beneath the bench, smiling proudly. Hanson now found himself completely immobilized. His torso and head lay flat against the chipped surface of the table, his legs were forced open, bound to the supports by the heavy ropes and his arms tightly hugged the narrow wooden bench top. He was completely helpless and at the mercy of his abuser.
“Get the camera Edward,” the man murmured breathlessly. “I want to send a little present to Officer Hanson’s esteemed colleagues.”
Edward scurried away but quickly returned with a camcorder. Picking up the spotlight with his other hand, he lugged it across the room and placed it next to the table. The bright light shone down on Tom, illuminating his bound, semi-naked body. Hanson could hear the man behind him and his heart began to hammer in his chest. He yelped when he felt the man’s erect cock press against him and knowing that he was about to be raped for a second time by the monster behind him, he started to sob. “Stop… stop… stop… stop… stop…” he begged, screwing his eyes closed against what was about to happen. But his request went unanswered. Instead, rough hands turned his head towards the camera and he screamed from the pain and humiliation when the man thrust his erect cock into his unprepared anus. Loud grunting assaulted his ears as the man slammed painfully in an out of his body. Opening his eyes, he could see Edward laughing with delight as he captured the assault on film. Knowing that he needed to do something to aid his escape, his police training clicked into gear and a plan formed in his mind. Trying desperately to ignore the searing pain in his backside, he gazed directly at the camera and began to silently mouth four words over and over again in a type of mantra, making sure that he enunciated each word clearly. “Ed-ward… Mist-er Bent-ley… clock… Ed-ward… Mist-er Bent-ley… clock… Ed-ward… Mist-er Bent-ley… clock…”
Those four words were the only clues that Hanson could think to relay to whoever would be the unfortunate recipient of the tape of his rape. All he could hope was that someone would be astute enough to decipher what he was saying.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies