The Incident at Chippewa Square
by The Duo
I saw Alexander Roth for the first time the one day.
The guy was definitely hot. He had blond hair that looked too neatly combed for a prettyboy. A straight nose, a charming smile, and a winning grace when he walked. But it was his sea blue eyes that made everything else about him seem like a lie. There were sparks of malice and viciousness in them. Why were these the type of men I was attracted to? I couldn't tell you.
In my mind I could see myself removing his shirt . . . Then I'd pull his T-shirt over his head, Alexander lifting his arms to reveal the fair hair in his armpits. Then, after kneeling at his feet, I'd slip off his Ralph Lauren's, taking them off and then his socks. I'd use my tongue to kitten-lick his soles and between his toes so that Alex would twist and turn uncontrollably.
I had come to Chippewa Square to warn him--to tell him to abandon his planned excursion to the dark side of town. To alert him to the fact that whatever urgent business he had been summoned to over there was a rouse. A rouse that would lead to a deathtrap. Yes, I could see that Alexander Roth was an asshole-and I didn't like knowing that he had run down a child in the street and had fled the scene. Still, I couldn't let the guy be murdered, could I?
As I was strolling across the square towards Alexander, a “urban” child ran past me, jostling me as I went. I was irritated, and watched the child as he ran on, finally colliding head-on with Alexander. The blond man had been talking to several other guys who looked as if they'd been cut from the same cloth, and--when the child struck him--he gave the boy a vicious cuff to the ear. The child fell stunned to the ground, and Alex kicked him!
I made up my mind about Alexander right then and there. I turned on my heel and walked home. Hey, if he was so good at beating children, surely he could deal with a band of men hell-bent upon executing him.
I visited my friend Jakeem on the dark side, and he informed me of the day that the Midnight Marauders would come against Alexander. I was allowed to watch the proceedings, and was amazed at all of the effort the organization put into metering out justice.
I looked over the locale where Jakeem told me the Midnight Marauders would be meeting. It was a couple of acres of land and single house. There were floodlights showering a small wood corral in back of the dwelling. Several horses were tearing around barrels that had apparently been set up for barrel racing. The “urban” guy who owned the house, the land and the horses was evidently a member of the Midnight Marauders.
Why had I come? To save Alexander Roth when I knew the type of man he was? I guess so. It would have been a lot simpler (and safer) to let the Midnight Marauders do what they wanted to him, but I just couldn't. Plus, I didn't really think the organization was going to do anything to him. Everything that was said to me about the MM seemed like some kind of a dream. I was so unbelieving about the Midnight Marauders intentions that I forgot to bring a single weapon with me when I traversed to the organization's HQ. I mean, I couldn't have stopped them from killing Alexander even if I had wanted too!
No I was just fooling myself.
Why had I come really? To watch what might become of Alexander Roth. You see, after my abduction at the ominous bar days earlier, I knew what the people on this side of town were capable of. And I was fascinated by the thought of witnessing as someone became prey to them . . . perhaps their actions would excite me more than they had when I was the prey. I wish that I could say I was ashamed of myself for wanting to witness something so brutish. At my best I have tried my hardest to feel ashamed, but have never quite prevailed. This is what that tobacco skinned brother saw in me when he spilled his guts about what was going to happen to Alex. He'd seen the darkness in me, and knew that I would find the whole idea of Alexander Barne's torture appetizing.
These thoughts were still raging in my brain when the Midnight Marauders mounted the horses in the stalls. The moment of truth had come-and I was right there, watching in the distance. They actually were riding horses! For what reason? Visual effect? With my camcorder rolling I followed along on the adjacent road in my Mazda.
I spotted the blond prey and focused in on him.
Alexander had left his Jag and was walking down the dirt path that served as the main street of Potts Hill when he heard the Midnight Marauders coming. He stopped and turned to face them with a completely bewildered expression. "There he is," I heard one of the MMs shout as I watched the wind rippled jackets and the crop-thrashed horses bear down on Alex, causing him to stumble and fall. Once he'd fallen, the horses jumped the blond man as if he were an obstacle at an equestrian show.
The Leader of the Midnight Marauders immediately leaped off his horse and rushed Alexander who had just managed to climb to his feet.
"You mine, mutha fucka!" the leader screamed. He knocked Alexander down again with a running kick to the gut. The blond man flew backwards with his arms pinwheeling, shock and pain on his handsome (albeit terrified) face. He landed on his back.
The leader's rage was in full force now. Electricity must have been jolting through his sleek, dark body, energizing him. Alexander was struggling for breath. He didn't see the leader coming for him . . . didn't even notice that the acrimonious man was standing over him until the leader had his hands on him. With one hand the leader grabbed him by the throat and yanked him to his feet. Alex made a garbled strangling noise as he fought to get his feet under him. His sea blue eyes were wide and full of agony. The leader pulled him close until his face and Alex's were nose to nose.
Did Alexander see his death in that brother's eyes? Even from a distance I could.
"No piss in your pants yet?" the leader spat at the blond man while roughly groping Alex's crotch. "No piss . . . not yet. We'll we gon' take care of that for you, you pasty-faced cocksucker. We gon' make you piss all over the place!"
"P-Please-"
The leader struck him hard across the face. Alexander reeled to the right and nearly fell over a fence. He was now bent over it, hands grappling it for purchase. The leader seized him by his blond hair and pulled him back. He shoved Alex hard, causing the terrified man to fall again, his legs seeming to fold in on themselves. His hands came up blindly over his head as the Midnight Marauders leader advanced on him again.
The leader kicked Alex again, this time catching him beneath his chin. The blond man did a backwards somersault and tumbled down the steep side of the hill. Alexander Roth lay in a motionless heap at the bottom of the hill, his battered face slack with unconsciousness.
The Midnight Marauders then dragged Alex by his ankles down the road and left him under the tree from which he would hang like some old western outlaw. When the noose was tied and thrown over a high branch, the leader of the Midnight Marauders told his fellow brothers, "Get that other blue-gene with the camera over here to watch this up close. A hangin' shouldn't be for nuthin': We'll let that mutha fucka watch so he can take the news of this back to the other side of town. So get his ass over here."
I was dragged kicking and screaming over to the hanging tree. And as I stood there watching this horror, I heard voices complaining against the blond man . . . voices saying that it served him right . . . that Virgil Franklin--the boy Alexander had run down in his car-might be paralyzed for life. No one shed a tear for the blond man when the Midnight Marauders hoisted his limp body into the air . . . and then it was dropped. Alexander Barne's body fell for several feet before jerking to a sudden, neck-cracking stop.
I saw this and immediately fainted.
When I woke, I was lying where I had fallen. Humiliation and panic rose within me as I realized that I'd wet myself. Even as I tried to sit up, a hand seized me by the ankle.
"Hold up a minute, boy."
I saw the hard, “urban” face of a man who was crouched near my feet. A man who systematically removed the sneaker from my right foot, then the left. I realized that this man removing my Reeboks was a member of the Midnight Marauders. I tried to use my hand to push his hand away from my feet.
He stopped my hand and reached down for my right foot again. He gripped my ankle, looked up at me and I said, "let's see if I can smell the fright on you." I relaxed and let him do what he wanted. I really had no choice. He lifted my white-socked foot to his face and took a whiff. He sighed blissfully, then harshly yanked off my sock and stuck my toes in his mouth. He sucked my toes, slithering his tongue between my digits, sucking underneath them, and using his thumbnail to scratch and tickle my exposed sole. Although half of me tried desperately to get my foot out of his grasp and away from the libidinous licking, sucking and tickling that I was receiving, another half of me pleaded for the brother never to stop.
It was the sight of Alexander Roth' dangling body that tore my attention away from the dark man who was worshipping my foot.
I saw the corpse swinging slowly back and forth in the distance. I couldn't bring myself to look at his face. This was bad enough. And what I saw next was unbelievable.
I watched as the leader of the Midnight Marauders-after positioning himself underneath the suspended carcass-slowly and methodically removed the expensive leather loafers from Alexander's dangling, lifeless size twelve feet. He then took off the blond corpse's left sheer sock and ran his nose, ever so slowly, from Alex's heel to each toe and the majestic spaces between. The sight of this caused the horror and panic within me to explode, and my head grew light again.
The leader of the organization started to nibble on the big sheer-socked toe on the unconscious blond's right foot while his fellow MMs watched and laughed. As the brother's wet mouth took in each of Alex's socked toes, one at a time, he moaned with excitement. And when the leader started to remove the ragdoll=like young man’s right sock, One of the ardent MMs unzipped his pants and began to stroke his large cock. He pulled out a dark brown shaft that was even larger than I expected . . . and darker than the rest of the guy's body! As the leader continued to smell and lick dead-looking Alex's dangling feet, this big-dicked guy began to jerk off moaning and muttering under his breath.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My skin went brutally cold . . . and then I fell once again into the black oil darkness of unconsciousness.
***
Regaining consciousness again, I opened my eyes and could dimly see the blurry images of the men around me.
A Midnight Marauders member knelt next to my motionless body and buried his face in the crotch of my pants, smelling my sweat and crotch aroma, moaning with blissful pleasure. Another MM seized my ankles, and sniffed my feet. The leader of the organization had the honor of stripping off my sweaty pants, unbuckling my belt, slowly pulling down my pants zipper, and then-while I languidly tried to fight them off-puled down my pants slowly.
I had been wearing khaki trousers. Underneath them were my white briefs. Two MMs brought their noses to the crotch of my underwear and sniffed my piss stains and man-sweat. I weakly twisted and turned, desperately trying to get away from the exploring noses of the Midnight Marauders members.
The leader sucked hickeys into my thighs and licked his way down to the back of my knees. He continued down the back of my legs before licking and probing my ankles and the soles of my bare feet. He sucked each of my toes in turn and then sucked all of them into his mouth. Finally one of the MMs grabbed my feet and used them to stroke his own huge, exposed cock with my toes.
Once they were done with me and my feet, the leader of the Midnight Marauders turned to me. He said, "Sorry about that, man. This whole experience has been worse on you than Roth. Oh, and you ain't got nuthin' to worry about as far as he's concerned. That punk-ass bastard is still alive. Look over there."
I looked where the leader pointed. Two MM's were crouched over Alexander Roth' warm, breathing body and were pulling up the blond man's shirt. And what I saw under his shirt explained everything; there was a second rope tied around Alex's chest, under his arms. It had been run up the back of his shirt and out through the head opening. The noose was attached to the rope across his chest to only give the illusion that he had been hung!
The leader laughed and lightly kicked Alexander's unconscious form. "Mutha fucka woulda thought his ass was gettin' hung too if he'da been conscious. I was hopin' he'd wake before we finished stringin' him up, but I guess I beat him down a bit harder than I intended. Weak bitch."
Two members of the Midnight Marauders rolled the unconscious blond man over onto his back. I could see that he had finally pissed in his pants like the leader had wanted. Alexander's ankles were now tied with the same noose that had been roped around his neck, and he was strung up again . . . upside down by his feet this time, but not so far up into the air. In fact, Alex's upper torso remained semi-prostrate on the ground beneath the tree. This still left his legs and bare size twelve feet facing the sky.
The leader walked over to me and pointed, with a grim smile, at the dangling topsy-turvy body. "You want to do the honors, Opie?"
I surprised the MMs and myself by the eagerness I displayed to have my way with Alex. I stumbled over to the unconscious blond man's body and immediately sniffed his toes.
Upon scrutinizing his tootsies, I saw how evident Alexander's privileged upbringing and youth were. His feet were smooth and soft, high arched and scented with sweat. I drew my index finger up and down the digits and pristine toenails. I scratched and stroked over his smooth soles, up into his insteps, and under his toes. Alex was still out cold, but this didn't stop him from reacting to what I was doing to him. He was ticklish enough to feel my touch even through layers of sleep. His unconscious slurred laughter was comical to me.
As I played with his feet I noticed that my dick was beginning to dribble fat strands of pre-cum. My tool was pumped to the max, and my balls were rolling about in their sack. I whipped out my tool and shot my load all over the dangling blond man's legs. I drained myself dry just as the leader of the Midnight Marauders pulled me away from Alex's inverted dangling body.
"Okay, you had yo' fun, boy. Now let us have ours."
I saw a MM move behind me, and he was brandishing a whip that had three rawhide thongs. Tied to the end of each of these thongs was a six-inch length of barbed wire.
"What are you going to do with that?" I asked, knowing full well what they were going to with it.
The leader leered at me. "Well, Barne's here has got more blood to pay for what he did to that boy. That chile ain't never gon' walk straight again, you know."
"But I can't let you whip him with THAT thing!" I protested.
All of the Midnight Marauders laughed, and the leader said, "Yeah? Well, what the fuck yo' punk-ass gon' do to stop us, boy?"
He had me there. There was nothing I could do except avert my eyes when the whipping began. I didn't plan to stick around for the entire beating. The first order of business in my mind was to get away, and that would happen as soon as the Midnight Marauders allowed it. After that, return to my own side of town. Because once I was back on my side, I could forget everything I had witnessed.
At least until the extraordinary craving to return consumed me again.