Political Abuse

There were no secrets anymore on Goldstein's sexual preferences. He had been outed as soon as he started making claims in public about the homosexual abuse in the halls of Congress. He didn't claim he unwillingly engaged in the homosexual sex, sometimes kinky or extreme fetish. His story was that men in or connected with Congress was engaging in it too--and often in great contradiction to how they were voting and pontificating in Congress.

In the interest Goldstein projected to the vice detective, the young man did not lack hope, because one of the reasons Hardesty closed his vice cases so well was that he was a captive of the vice himself. He was a gay power top, and he worked so well in the world of rough male trade in the city because he was in that world himself. He readily recognized the signals of interest that Goldstein was projecting--and the young man readily admitted that his connection to Jim Zeller had included willingly having had sex with the man and other men Zeller led him to after the congressional staffer had pursued and seduced him--and Hardesty couldn't say he didn't return the interest in the smaller and younger Mediterranean-type handsome man. That said, Hardesty's primary interest in Goldstein was professional--what the young man knew and wasn't telling. Personally, Hardesty gravitated toward the young, small blond, somewhat androgynous type, men more like the young male prostitute he lived with.

Hardesty knew Goldstein was making an offer when he was looking at the strands of Hardesty's unusual belt and he knew the nature of the offer because the belt was a whip and wearing one was a signal of sadomasochistic sex. Goldstein was signaling knowledge and interest. His offer was brought home after Colver and Quillen had walked off and Goldstein said, "We've never met before, Mr. Hardesty, but we have at least one mutual friend."

"It's just Hardesty. And who would that be?"

"We both know Jeremy Brand. He's told me about you. He used to be a Senate page."

"Yes, I know he was a page," Hardesty said. He also knew more about Jeremy Brand, though. Brand had decided he liked being a male escort better than being a Senate page and had left his congressional position and linked up with one of the male brothels in northwest Washington, Justine's, in the fashionable northwest embassy section of Kalomara. Hardesty had a protective relationship with Justine's and mined those working there for information on what was happening in the male prostitute world. Jeremy was one of Hardesty's snitches and Hardesty was one of Justine's nonpaying clients, with privileges, because Hardesty helped keep Justine's open. Jeremy specialized in rough sex practices. Hardesty had used him in the past.

"If, as Ted Colver says, you have much more you can talk about concerning the operations Jim Zeller is involved in," Hardesty said, putting a hand on Goldstein's forearm and being rewarded with a shudder from the young man, "I think you should talk to me."

"Maybe, but not here. And I would like some assurances. I haven't driven here. I was going to get a taxi, but maybe you could drive me home."

"And we can have a little talk?"

"You can have just about anything you would like to have. There isn't anything Jeremy would do that I won't."

Goldstein guided Hardesty in the detective's nondescript police department sedan to the Alto Towers apartment building farther in on Wisconsin Avenue toward the center of the city from the television station located near the National Cathedral and American University on upper Wisconsin. The red brick Alto Towers had been elegant and expensive when built in the 1930s; it still was expensive because everything in Washington, D.C., was expensive and this was a good address section of the city. It had seen its better years, though, and had not kept up with the times in amenities and elegance.

Hardesty pulled up in front of the building and left the car on idle. "So, is there more you can tell me--and then more after that?" he turned to Jacob Goldstein, sitting in the passenger seat, and asked.

"Drive around to the back of the building," Goldstein said. "There's a parking garage for the apartment house back there. You can park in my roommate's slot. He's gone for the weekend."

So that answers that, Hardesty thought. The lad has the apartment to himself tonight.

He drove to the slot and parked. He wasn't surprised that it was in a remote, dimly lit section of the garage. He looked expectantly at the Jewish nineteen-year old. Hardesty knew he was nineteen, because Colver had mentioned that in introducing Goldstein. The lad was legal. Hardesty had a time-honored method of extracting information from young men who obviously were attracted to him and to what he could provide.

"I could tell you a lot--a lot that would be interesting to the police," Goldstein said. "I'd need protection, though, as I wouldn't want to get in trouble myself."

"Protection from prosecution. Are you saying that you procured other pages for Zeller's prostitution ring?"

"I'm not saying anything without some form of protection."

"And what might that be?"

"I know what you do with Jeremy Brand. If you did that with me too, I could as easily accuse you as any of the men you want me to accuse. That would make me feel better about your protecting me from trouble."

He leaned over and kissed Hardesty on the lips. Hardesty kissed him back. "What do you have in mind?" he asked.

"Jeremy tells me you have the biggest, thickest one he's ever had. Is he right?"

"Feel free to find out for yourself, if you like," Hardesty said.

Goldstein reached over, unzipped Hardesty's jeans, and fished his cock out. It was erect, championship thick, and long. "Holy shit," Goldstein murmured. "Jeremy says he can hardly get it in his mouth."

"You can try, if you want."

Goldstein wanted. He leaned over and worked on getting the cock in his mouth--and then proceeded to suck it off. Hardesty reclined his seat and let the young man work on it, to milk it to an ejaculation.

The young man sat up in his seat and wiped his mouth off with his handkerchief. "I want more protection than that. I want you to come up to my apartment and use me hard, hard enough that it would get you kicked out of the police department if I told them what you did and produced this handkerchief with your cum on it."

"You're not scaring me, Jacob," Hardesty said. "Reach under your seat and pull out what you find."

Goldstein did. He pulled out a series of four velvet-lined black leather cuffs, linked together with large silver rings.

"We go upstairs, I'll use more than the whip on you. I'll use those restraints. You'll let me do what I want to do with you because you won't be able to stop me. If you want proof of what I did, I'll be happy to take photos. Do you still want me to go upstairs with you?"

"Yes," the young man said, his voice thick with want.

* * * *

The rooms were small in the apartment, but it was well furnished. There were two bedrooms. Hardesty knew that rent for an apartment like this would run at least $2,500 a month. And there were the furnishings on top of that--not something someone can live in in Washington, D.C., on a college student's stipend or what they paid pages in the Senate, or even both together.

They stood there inside his living room, facing each other, more than six paces between them.

"Where does the money come from for this apartment, Jacob?" Hardesty asked. "Was Jim Zeller paying you for sex?"

"No, but..."

"But what?"

"The men he paired me with paid me. But not that much."

"Were these men senators and congressmen?"

"Yes, and some lobbyists and foreign diplomats and a judge, but I'm not saying more than that until I have something on you too. And none of that money went into this apartment. I own this apartment, and Zach pays me rent for his half. His parents are gazillionaires."

"And your parents? Are they the ones who bought this apartment for you?"

"Fuck me first. Then I'll tell you."

"I won't fuck you at all unless you prime the pump with the information I know you are holding out. Look at me, Jacob." Hardesty had unbuckled and unzipped his jeans and pushed them and his briefs down to the floor. He stood there, holding his massive erection in his hand and the hand whip he'd been using as a belt in the other. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes... and more." It came out in a strangled voice. "Jeremy told me I'd never again be fucked by anyone like you if I got you to do me. He said you'd make me feel it. I haven't really felt it since before I came to Washington."

"Is an old man paying for this apartment, Jacob? Someone in New York. Someone who pushes a half-hard small cock inside you, dribbles his cum, and then goes to sleep?"

"Yes. Most of the men Jim sent me to did the same."

"Strip," Hardesty commanded, and then he pulled the leather jacket off his back and the black T-shirt over his head and he was naked. His torso and biceps were hard-worked muscular, with veins prominently standing out because they had no fat to run through. The torso was marked with scars from knife slashes and a few pockmarks from encounters with bullets luckily placed. This enhanced the image of the man as a thug but also increased the danger of him and Jacob's arousal. His pecs were bulging, his nipples rock hard. He was swishing the hand whip against his thigh. Jacob sucked in air at the sight of him.

"I said strip, Jacob. Either strip and follow every command I give you for the rest of the night or I'll dress and leave."

Jacob stripped. Hardesty walked around him, touching him here and there, swishing the strands of the whip against his own thigh. He put his lips to Jacob's ear and said, "Did Jeremy tell you I reloaded fast--that I would take you again and again?"

"Yes."

Hardesty pushed the young man down to his knees. The hand holding the whip was raised and he struck Jacob's bare buttocks with the strands of the whip--not hard, but hard enough to shock and sting. The young man flinched and yelped.

"And is that what you want? You want to feel it like you've never felt it before?"

"Yes."

"And then you'll tell me more about Jim Zeller and your relationship with him and who you did for him--by name?"

Jacob hesitated.

"I'm a cop, Jacob. I'm only giving you what you say you want to get this information. You will give it to me, won't you?"

"Yes," it was almost a sob

Leaning over, Hardesty grabbed Jacob's head by the hair and cruelly twisted him around and took the young man's lips with his. His other hand, with the butt of the whip in it, grabbed the young man by the balls and twisted them. Pulling away from the kiss, Jacob yelped.

"Is this what you want?" Hardesty asked.

"Yes," Jacob said, panting. "Use me hard. Jeremy said you'd take me totally--that I'd never forget it."

"Bend over that chair arm." Jacob did so and then Hardesty gave Jacob another taste of the whip on his buttocks.

"Yes, yes. Fuck me!" Jacob cried out.

"Kneel to me. Suck me," Hardesty commanded, and Jacob slipped off the arm of the chair and to his knees in front of Hardesty. He took Hardesty's cock in his mouth, to the extent he could, and gagged as Hardesty fisted his hair and made him take more of the cock than he could easily manage.

Hardesty dragged the young man up to his feet by pulling on his hair. The young Jewish guy had quite a mass of black, curly hair to get a good hold on. "If you're going to have to piss in the next couple of hours, I suggest you do it now. You're going to be tied up for a while."

Whimpering, Jacob went into the bathroom. The apartment appeared to have only one, with old-fashioned tiles on the walls, but it was a large bath. The floor had been carpeted. Hardesty followed the young man into the bathroom and watched him start the stream of piss into the toilet. Hardesty came close behind him, his erection pressed into the small of Jacob's back. He reached a hand around and held Jacob's cock in his hand while Jacob pissed. The young man leaned forward, panting, and pressed the palms of his hands into the tiles on the wall behind the toilet.

Hardesty looked up at where that wall met the ceiling and laughed. "Well, lookee there," he said. Two wrists restraints were dangling from the top of the wall. "Did you bring Zeller and men he sent to you here, to this apartment? Was this a place of business for you?"

"Yes," Jacob admitted. He moaned as Hardesty cuffed the young man's wrists, with his arms stretched over his head. His buttocks jutted out from the toilet. Hardesty whipped him with moderate strokes on the buttocks, legs, and back.

The whipping, which was more for the effect of the snapping sound than to do damage, stopped, Hardesty rolled on a condom, saddled up behind Jacob as he leaned over the toilet with his arms raised and restrained, and, holding Jacob's hips between his hands, forced his cock inside Jacob's channel and pumped him, while the young man babbled and writhed under him. Jacob shot his load into the toilet. Hardesty continued pumping him until he too came.

Fifteen minutes later Jacob was bent over on the floor, the restraints he'd pulled out from the passenger seat in Hardesty's sedan being put to use. His head and shoulders were pressed to the bathroom carpet and his legs were bent and pulled up into his chest. His ankles were cuffed in the middle two restraints in the line of cuffs and his wrists in the two outer cuffs. Hardesty whipped his ass again and then was mounted on his raised buttocks and was riding his red, welted ass hard to another ejaculation.

When he had come, Hardesty leaned over and whispered in Jacob's ear, "Now, let's talk about Jim Zeller and the prostitution operation you and he were involved in."

"More. Plow me again first," Jacob whimpered.

The cop usually would inform the submissive at this point in time and Hardesty gave the directions, the young man didn't, but he liked the idea of fucking Jacob again so let that pass.

Hardesty released Jacob from the restraints, growling, "We'll go to the bedroom. I want you to ride me." In Jacob's bedroom, Hardesty found restraints at all four corners of the bed and an X-frame, with restraints, in a walk-in closet, but he didn't employ either. He pulled another set of restraints from the nightstand drawer, which he did use. This was a belt for Jacob's waist with wrist cuffs attached at the side, keeping Jacob's arms trapped at his side while Hardesty lay on this back, with Jacob riding his cock in a cowboy and Hardesty clutching and spreading Jacob's buttocks cheeks and slamming his channel up and down on Hardesty's impossibly thick cock.

Releasing Jacob from the restraints, Hardesty turned Jacob on top of him so that they were stretched out with Jacob's head pushed into the hollow of Hardesty's chest. Hardesty laced his arms through Jacob's pits, trapping the young man's arms above his head. He laced his legs through Jacob's, raising and spreading the young man's legs. He fucked up into Jacob's channel for another creaming.

They both collapsed on the bed then, Jacob's body stretched out over Hardesty's.

"Make me a list," Hardesty whispered in Jacob's ear.

"There's one in the nightstand drawer," Jacob squeaked between gasps.

Hardesty pulled the drawer out and saw that there was a list. He couldn't read it in the dim light in the bedroom. But he trusted that he had given Jacob what he wanted and would get cooperation. They dozed for nearly an hour, awaking enough for Hardesty to roll on top of Jacob, between his legs, and give him a more conventional, full-attention deep fuck. Then they dozed again.

Something awakened Hardesty just before 5:00 a.m. The bed was empty next to him. It took him some time to realize that what had awakened him was a popping noise. He rolled over with a groan and rolled out of bed.

The apartment's entry door was standing open. Jacob's body, in a dressing gown, was puddled inside the door. Hardesty rolled the body over. The young man had been plugged right between the eyes. He'd been shot answering the door without checking through the peephole who was out there. But maybe he knew who shot him and opened the door because he hadn't expected it coming.

* * * *

There wasn't anything Hardesty could do for Jacob anymore and he'd seen more than his share of dead bodies--even ones with a third eye created for them, so, other than regretting the young man was dead, he wasn't the focus of Hardesty's attention for the moment. Hardesty did regret he was dead, of course. He had been really cute and was a good lay--and he'd been serious about taking pleasure from being whipped, bound, and fucked hard. Not only that, but he also was going to be a witness in a police investigation. But that was all in the past now.

First thing Hardesty did was to close the door to the public corridor, although he was careful to see the angle at which it had been opened and to return it to that angle when he left. The second thing he did was to pull his own service gun from its holster under the leather jacket and do a creeping walk through the apartment to make sure that whoever had offed Jacob Goldstein hadn't come in and was gone. Obviously the assailant hadn't known that someone was in the apartment with Jacob, which was lucky for Hardesty. He wouldn't have stood a chance. Next was a trip to the nightstand drawer for the list Jacob had promised only to speak ill of the dead with a "Why that sneaky little shit" when he found out the list gave the names of area restaurants, not men.

Then he went to the kitchen, pulled a couple of paper towels and the bottle of hand sanitizer conveniently found placed next to the sink, and did a rubdown of surfaces he might have touched in the bathroom and bedroom. He fished the used condoms out of the wastebaskets--two in the bathroom and three in the bedroom--rolled them in a paper towel, and stuck the towel in his jacket pocket. They weren't all his, but he had no way to distinguish which ones were. He pulled the restraint set he'd brought and, leaving the door open at the proper angle, went down the back staircase to his car and drove across town to the diner near police headquarters that he often breakfasted at. The paper towel with the condoms went into a dumpster behind a closed gas station between the apartment and there.

At the diner, he ordered a full breakfast--the fucking had left him ravenous--and ate slowly, contemplating the state of play and waiting for a call from dispatch about a murder of someone his unit was interested in at the Alto Towers. None came in. It was Sunday morning and the door into Goldstein's apartment was nearly at the end of a hall, so chances were good none of the neighbors had stumbled upon the open door and dead body yet.

At 7:30 a.m., he was back at the Alto Towers to "find" the body himself. He called the find in to his unit immediately.

"Sorry, Lieutenant Crane. This is the Senate page I was on TV last night with. He indicated he could tell us more about Jim Zeller, so I arranged to come to his apartment this morning. Somebody beat me here. He's dead at the door to his apartment. Yes, I'll stick around to keep an eye on forensics until you get here."

And that was that. Hardesty hoped he hadn't left any "to do" out in covering his tracks. It wouldn't make any difference in the least that he'd been there, fucking the guy before he was zapped. It would just be an inconvenient wrinkle in the case. Hardesty hadn't offed him and he hadn't learned much of anything from the cute Jew that he'd have to account for. He wasn't abandoning the dead man. He'd take extra efforts to run his murderer down. He wanted to be part of that. If he were put at the scene when the hit went down, he, at the minimum, would be taken off the case. He very definitely wanted to be on this case. It was personal now.