Silas's Choice Expanded

I wouldn't have been out here at all if Silas hadn't seduced me back during basic training at the Farm. And I'm sorry if I couldn't resist giving in to Silas whenever he wanted me. Ward could just keep his judgmental looks to himself. I didn't ask him to stumble in on what Silas was doing to me while we were out here waiting for the signal to start this snatch-and-drag operation on Delgado.

Complicating all of this was that I saw the looks Silas gave Ward. And I saw the sketches Silas drew of him fucking Ward. So, there was no secret what was going on there. As far as I could tell, though, Ward seemed oblivious to Silas's wants, and I never saw a hint that they were doing it. If they were, Ward was certainly a good actor. Ward wasn't part of this operation, really—not like Silas and I were. He wasn't from the special "candy store" unit that I was. He was just muscle at the point of snatch. I, Paulo, was the one who had to take all of the heat as the bait in this. And they'd let me know that Emilio Delgado was rough and into bondage. That wasn't something to look forward to. But, then Silas's plow belt certainly was arousing—I was more filled and worked with a cock using that than any other way I'd ever had it—and I thought using was getting into bondage. When he used that on me, I certainly wasn't going anywhere until he was done. So, a little bit of it was all right.

But none of this tense triangle stuff was of my choosing—I didn't care if Silas went off and fucked Ward's brains out. Although it would be nice if he kept a piece of himself for me too. And we didn't need any of this extra melodrama in this operation. Snatching Delgado and getting him out of Colombia from under the noses of not only his own bodyguards but the Colombian police he had paid off as well would be rough enough without all of this side tension.

"Paulo. Paulo, are you with us?"

I snapped out of my reverie and looked up at Silas, crouched across the tree stump from me where the group of us were powwowing over the operational plans.

"Yes, Silas. I'm here. As always. I'm right here."

The go-ahead had finally come in from Langley, and Silas was explaining the plans to me. As was no surprise to me, the initial plans were all me and Silas.

* * * *

The hardest part of the operation for Silas was getting a gig at the Valpariso, Emilio Delgado's favorite bar in Florencia, the closest city to his well-guarded compound in Colombia's rural Caqueta Province. The roughest part for me came later, under the domination of Emilio Delgado.

As always, Silas did his part quickly and with panache. We just walked into the Valpariso bar one afternoon, and, after standing drinks for us at the bar, he walked over to the baby grand at the edge of the dance floor and started playing pop tunes that are favored for background music in smoky bars. The owner was in the place, as Silas had known he would be—indeed had timed our visit for—and by the time he took note of Silas's playing and thought he'd do well as a backup to a singer, Silas motioned me over, and it just happened that my voice could blend in perfectly with a couple of songs it seemed like Silas just pulled out of the air.

And the bar owner couldn't restrain himself from noted that we were both hot lookers and wouldn't hurt his business any. He asked Silas if we'd do trade on the side, and Silas just smiled, ready to say yes if it got our foot in the door, but he didn't have to do more than smile to get the man's hopes up.

"Sure, I can come around tonight and we can play some for your patrons, my friend and I can," Silas was saying. "But we're kind of tired and don't have anything to do this afternoon—and we heard you had some rooms upstairs. Maybe in exchange for some entertainment tonight . . ."

The bar owner took the bait and this wasn't just any bar. This was a men's bar with rooms above for when men wanted to be men with other men.

The owner looked us over real well and close again, and his eyes narrowed, and he said, "I might have a room in an hour or two. But it's a pretty special room. If you and your nice little friend here are interested in making a little cash, I could pay you 200,000 pesos to use our special room for a couple of hours this afternoon." He then winked at Silas, but he didn't need to. Silas was rather hoping that this offer would be made—counting on it, actually. And he'd already checked out that Emilio Delgado was in town. At this moment, Ward was sitting outside the building where Delgado kept a town office and had seen him enter the building.

Twenty minutes later Delgado came out of his office, accompanied by a phalanx of burly bodyguards, all in black suits and polished shoes, dark sunglasses, and something bulky under their armpits inside their suit jackets.

They roared off in an Escalade SUV toward town, and ten minutes later yet another of Silas's operatives saw the SUV drive up to the door of the Valpariso and dispense the fast-walking Delgado and two of the bodyguards.

A half hour later Silas and I were naked in the middle of the special room that had been provided for us on the Valpariso's second floor, and Silas was putting on a Grade A fuck show for several sets of eyes peering through several eyeholes drilled in the walls connection the two rooms on either side to the special room.

I took my time sucking Silas big while sitting on the edge of the bed with him standing between my legs arching his pelvis toward my face. While sucking on his bulb and flicking his piss slit with my tongue, I ran my hands over his chest and six pack and thighs and buttocks, showing all of the paying voyeurs the bar owner had managed to collect in the time given—including, most importantly, Emilio Delgado—just how hard and cut Silas was. All the time I was pulling on my own cock as well.

After a good fifteen minutes of this, Silas pulled his hips back and pushed me down on my back on the bed. The black leather belt sling was already stretched out on the edge of the bed where I went down on the small of my back. Silas knelt between my spread legs and placed the palms of his hands under my buttocks and rolled my pelvis up. His mouth went to my balls and then down to my hole as I pulled slowly on my cock. And then he raised his mouth and took possession of my cock and sucked and pumped me with his mouth as I writhed and groaned and moaned under his attention.

Silas had never done this to me before. He'd never blown me, although I certainly had sucked him. I was loving it, dangerous show or not. And it wasn't long before I had cupped his head in my hands and tried to push him away, gasping that I was going to come if he didn't stop. And he didn't stop, and my jerks and cries and writhings at and beyond my climax were in no way an act for the voyeur's pleasure.

Silas stood after I had ejaculated, turned to the nightstand beside the bed, took up one of several condom packets there, and slowly rolled it on his tool, showing to all of the eyeholes in the wall that he barely was able to cover enough of his cock to make it matter.

And then he walked back between my legs and slowly worked his way into my ass canal, with me putting on quite a show of being split asunder and tasked almost to my limit, this too being only slightly an act. When he was fully sheathed, he grasped the two end handles of the plow belt and lifted my pelvis up to him, arching my back to where my shoulder blades and head were digging into the bed cover and my legs just dangled down on either side of his hips, and he pumped me hard and deep and fast and at great length, until I felt him jerk and quiver and fill out the balloon of his condom.

He pulled out of me, rolled the condom off, and dropped it to the floor as he leaned over my body and possessed my mouth with his. His lips then traveled down my torso, lingering at my nipples and my belly button, and then, in a display of his strength, he was standing and pulling my cock into his mouth, with me bearing my weight on my shoulder blades and head again, and him wishboning my legs out—giving the gallery a great view of his strength and control. I moaned and grasped the bed cover up in my fists as he worked my cock up to bursting again and drained me dry.

Silas stepped away from the edge of the bed and dropped my legs, and I just sank to my knees there between the bed and his legs and gave his dick suck again, this time Silas cupping my head in his hands and working my face back and forth on his cock, making me take him deep.

Another condom, and Silas pulled me into the center of the room, crouched between my legs from behind, forcing me up on my toes as his cock slid up into my channel once more. He whipped the plow belt around my belly, and I was upended and suspended in air, my torso and arms dangling down to the ground, as he walked around the room with me suspended, impaled on his cock, in front of him, and him using alternating pressure and release on the belt to fuck me on his cock.

When we were done, Silas stretched me out on the bed. He was about to join me, when the door to the room opened a large crack, and the bar owner murmured something to catch Silas's attention, and Silas went over to the door. There were mutterings of haggling, with Silas first looking angry and then more haggling.

Silas came back to the bed and leaned down and whispered to me.

"We've got Delgado hooked. He wants to fuck you. But we have to make this look good. You try to struggle up and I'll backhand you and you lay back on the bed, stunned."

He did, and I did, and I didn't have to act stunned.

And then Silas was out of the room and Delgado and two goons were there. Delgado stripped off his trousers and briefs and unbuttoned his shirt while his two goons bound me with black leather strappings they brought into the room with them. It was just one apparatus, really. A long strap that went around my neck, where there was padding for the back of my neck. The strap came out to my legs on either end and ended in bindings for my ankles, so that, when it was set up, my legs were stretched out and up, with the pressure on the back of my neck. There were wrist bindings on the strap down each side near the ankle bindings as well, so that when the goons were finished, I was trussed up, my legs spread-eagled, my wrists pinioned, and my hole waving in the air.

Delgado proceeded to fill my hole with his cock, though, in a brutal thrust right after availing himself of another one of the condoms from the top of the nightstand. He didn't have nearly the trouble getting the condom to cover his engorged cock that Silas did, but his length and thickness were nothing to sneeze at.

I struggled, trying to roll away from him, knowing it was futile, but also knowing that this was what Delgado liked. And he backhanded me, and I rewarded him with whimpers and groans while he made quick work of my ass. While he fucked me hard and deep, he had his hands around my neck, choking me. He'd apply pressure until I almost blacked out and then relieve it. I could tell this gave him a special charge of arousal. I had also been told that this was how he said good-bye to lovers he grew tired of, and I resolved that I would do everything in my power to keep him interested in me until that was no longer necessary.

When he was done, he pulled away and redressed, the goons released me from the apparatus, and all three of them were gone as quickly as they had burst into the room to begin with.

"How much was my ass worth?" I murmured to Silas when he came in to help me back full-length on the bed and came down beside me and gathered me in his arms.

"300,000 pesos," Silas whispered. "The bar owner assured me that that was top peso with Delgado. Let's only hope that he likes you enough to take you home tonight or tomorrow. We need the name of that ship the drugs are on before next Monday."

We rested then, but not for long. Soon Silas was lifting my leg and sliding into me while we were on our sides, my butt folded into his crotch, and he was plumbing my depths once more. I turned my face to his and we went into a long, lingering kiss. If there still were voyeurs, they were getting a completely different perspective on our lovemaking. But, to tell the truth, I didn't care if anyone was watching or not.

We performed on the Valpariso stage that night, and as well received as Silas's piano playing and even, surprisingly enough to me, my singing, was, what really made a hit was what Silas did between song sets. He'd brought his sketch pad and, to the delight, of many of the patrons, he dashed off sketches of those in the bar and handed them to the delighted men. He was at his flattering best in depicting them, and our tip jar was quickly overflowing. Delgado and his two goons were there too, sitting very close to the piano, with Delgado giving me "the stare" the whole time, which, professionally, suited me just fine—and I vamped for him to heighten his interest.

Silas made to sketch Delgado, but, predictably, at his signal his two goons made threatening moves and Silas desisted. What they didn't know, however, was that Silas had already sketched the two goons surreptitiously and that these sketches would be scanned and faxed back to the States overnight for identification and filing.

At the end of a set, around 1:00 AM, Silas leaned over to me and whispered, "I think they are in position. I saw some movement back there. It's time you took a leak break. Remember, your contact on the inside is Teo. He's serves at meals and changes the linens, so you should be able to talk to him alone several times a day. Just let him know when you know the name of the ship the drugs are on and have cleared out the safe in Emilio's office. Somewhere near the west wall of the compound around midnight. And try to let him know if you have to get out of there quick before getting the information."

"Got it," I said. I'd had it for several days. It had been beating in my head. So much easier to say than to do.

I leaned into the mike and murmured that our next set would start in fifteen minutes and that after that, if they wanted to see the piano player and me in action upstairs, they should make arrangements with the bar owner. I was pleased to note that there was a hubbub going through the crowd at that point and craning of necks to eyeball where the bar owner was perched.

I looked down at Delgado. His eyes were slitted and there was a little smile on his face. I had no doubt that I wouldn't be performing upstairs that night.

I turned and walked back into the corridor toward the men's room. I was barely out of the sightline from the main room of the bar, when two bulky men in black suits were grabbing me. One slapped a gloved hand over my mouth and nose, and I was nearly suffocated by the time I'd been hustled out to a dark-colored van and tossed into the back on a heavily carpeted floor. I was fighting for breath so hard that I put up no resistance—even if I had had the intention to do so—while the two goons stripped me and slammed me onto my back and bound me off with straps cuffing my wrists and ankles in a spread-eagle position tied off to four corners of the back of the van. In short order, Delgado and his other two goons had come out of the Valpariso and we were on the road, traveling for some time and distance into the heart of the drug region of Caqueta Province.

While he traveled, Delgado came into the back of the van; stripped; knelt between my legs, raising my pelvis up; and fucked and choked me until he had filled me and I passed out. When I came to, he repeated the process. Obviously I pleased him greatly.

There isn't all that much to say about the next three days except that Teo already knew the name of the ship with the drug shipment bound for the States with six-months supply of the Delgado cartel supply on it, and I managed to get Delgado's safe open and all of the interesting records and name files therein photographed and passed to Teo between bound brutal fuckings in Delgado's own version of a special room.

Somehow I managed to keep him interested in trying new toys and positions with me, and when I whispered to him one evening that I'd show him something special if he took me for a midnight fuck swim in the swimming pool near the compound's western wall, he bit on the idea. He didn't get his special fuck, though, he got a shot of something that put him right out, while the lone bodyguard he'd brought along in his too-trusting mistake was being quietly dispatched by Ward's trusty Ek commando knife in the bushes by the pool.

We were away and half way to the coast before Emilio's brother, Estaban, raised the alarm at the disappearance of Emilio. The paid-off provincial police officers arrived soon thereafter, but the manhunt they launched encompassed the major airports in the region, not the sleepy little fishing village of Timbiqu, where we were keeping the three launches that took us and our precious cargo, a kingpin of Colombian drug cartels, out to an innocuous fishing boat headed up for Baja California, where debriefing would take place in a special Mexican prison, far away from the stringent laws of the United States.

I might have felt a little sorry for Emilio—except for what I had suffered at his hands the three days he had worked his little bondage and S&M fantasies on me. Still, in hindsight I knew I should not have told Silas what I had endured. If I hadn't, maybe Silas would not have done what he did and life would not have turned out as it did for Silas.

Because Baja California and the Mexican prison was not Plan A for the delivery of Emilio. He was supposed to go to San Diego, on U.S. soil.

The first I knew of the change of plans—barely an hour after Silas had debriefed me on my three days in the Delgado compound—was when I came up to the wheelhouse of the fishing boat and Silas had Sam Winterberry, chief of the Agency's "special" unit, and Ted Talbot, chief of the South America Division, on speaker phone from their cushy, safe offices in Langley.

"Request denied." There was a lot of static in the sound coming from the open mike, but I knew that to be Ted Talbot's voice.

"I don't see that we really have any choice," Silas said back into the mike. "We're taking on water pretty bad. It's a leaky tub."

I looked out the side windows to the choppy waves the little fishing boat was efficiently chugging through. I saw nothing wrong in how the boat was riding on the water.

"Well, do what you can to get to San Diego," the other voice, that of Sam Winterberry, chirped back. I could tell he was ticked. His voice had an edge to it.

"Mexico was never really approved," Talbot chimed in. "You kept referring to it as Plan B and set something up down there without keeping us fully informed. But we want the subject back here, on U.S. soil."

"I'll try," Silas said, "But I don't . . . uh oh, one of the engines just stopped. I'm not sure we can even make it into Mexican waters. And I'll have to sign off and go see whether anyone is working on it."

Again, I was confused. I didn't hear anything wrong with the engines. Silas turned to me, winked, gave me a mischievous smile, and motioned me over to him. I went to him, and he stood close behind me and wrapped his free arm around me. With that hand, he started unbuttoning my shirt. I wedged the back of my head in the hollow of his neck and sighed. It was so good to be back where I wanted to be. My shirt open now, his hand went down under the waistband of my shorts.

"Collins," Winterberry was yelling through the static over the intercom.

Silas laid the mike down on its side beside equipment that didn't enjoy the interaction of the radio waves and started complaining in dense static.

"Silas," Talbot joined in.

But all they got back was static, because Silas had already stripped off my shorts and briefs and I was leaning over the dash below the window screen of the wheel room and was lowering my channel on his erect phallus for the first of several "welcome home" fucks.