The Mix-Up

Whistling softly to himself, Jacob locked the door and crossed the street to wait for his lift. If only he’d get that damn promotion, they’d be able to afford a second car—Karen’s new schedule was great… for her. Not so much for him. He jingled his keys in his pocket and rocked back on his heels, mentally going over the changes he’d made to the Simpkins portfolio as he scanned the far-off intersection.

When the black van turned onto his road, slowing as it approached, Jacob set his briefcase down on the sidewalk and pulled his phone out. He’d been expecting a blue Volt.

Before he could check the app, the van abruptly stopped in front of him—he took a step back as the side door slid open and two masked men jumped out.

“Hey wha—” was all he managed as the bigger of the two grabbed him and spun him around, clamping a hand over his mouth while the other man flicked the side of a syringe. Panic took hold of Jacob’s guts with a cold, hard fist, and he flailed against his attacker, trying to break away. Mashed by the man’s palm, Jacob’s lips could only vibrate with his pleas, the sound like the whimper of a scared child. It was no use—he might as well be trying to fight his way out of a steel cage.

The needle’s sting was amplified by his fear… then there was nothing at all.

A minute later…

Keith stepped up to the curb, his stomach fluttering with excitement, and looked down curiously at the leather briefcase on the sidewalk. A blue Chevy Volt slowed and then stopped in front of him. The driver looked up at him expectantly.

“Mr. Taylor?”

Keith frowned. “No.”

The driver fussed with his phone, then peered at the house across the street. Keith looked at his watch.

+++

A sharp scent bit into Jacob’s sinuses, jolting him awake. For a few seconds, he could only blink and gasp around the object in his mouth, his reeling thoughts struggling to find purchase. Only a few things were immediately clear to him: he was gagged and tied face down to something in a room bathed in warm light.

Then he remembered the van and the men.

Jacob jerked against his restraints, eyes bulging as he stared wildly around him. Was this a clinic? Were they harvesting his organs?

“Welcome back, Mr. Gingrich,” said a soft voice.

Startled, Jacob turned his head as far as he could, tongue pushing desperately against the smooth rubber in his mouth. A young blond man in a dark, tailored suit with a burgundy shirt and tie smiled at him from above a clipboard.

“I’ll be your valet tonight. My name is Martin and I’ll be Daniel’s replacement for the first part of today’s session. He sends his apologies… car troubles.” The young man chuckled softly, giving Jacob a little shrug—what can you do? “I’ve gone through everything in your file and I’ve memorized your signs. Don’t worry… you’re in good hands.” Martin’s smile was serene—he seemed pleased with himself. “We’re just now completing your irrigation.”

Irrigation? Jacob only became aware of the object lodged in his ass when it was gently pulled out. He also realized in that moment that he was stark naked. Jacob panted against the gag and groaned as the thing he was tied to… or, rather, tied around—a leather-covered bolster with padded footrests—was tilted so he was upright like a bear climbing a tree. Horrified, he felt liquid leave his body. The smile on Martin’s face never wavered in the whole time it took for it to stop. Then something cool and slippery was inserted into rectum as the stand was tilted back down.

Once more prone, Jacob was wheeled towards a set of swinging doors.

“All right, Mr. Gingrich. Here we go,” said Martin.

“My name’s not Gingrich,” Jacob screamed, but it was rendered into gibberish by the ball gag in his mouth. Martin looked over and grinned.

The room was a standard beige-walled conference room, complete with condensation-beaded water pitchers and small wooden pencils placed above information packets on tables draped with burgundy tablecloths. From his vantage, he could see about a dozen men dressed in suits and… masks? Craning his neck as far as it would go, Jacob found the source of the rhythmic slapping noise. At one end of the room, there was another naked man strapped down to the same sort of round leather stand as he was, a crowd of masked businessmen surrounding him, and one of them, pantsless, was…

Oh god.

With his mouth helplessly held open by the gag, Jacob struggled to swallow back his horror. The businessman laughed and chatted with his friends as he fucked the bound man, eventually pulling his cock out to let another have a turn.

What the hell is—

Jacob choked as someone grasped his hips. No no no… Something warm and solid touched his pucker and terror once more punched a hole right through him. He screamed as the cock pierced him, the head of it popping through the ring of muscle and tearing into his guts. Sweat burst from Jacob’s pores, slicking the leather under his chest as he gasped in a breath and screamed a second time.

Obviously concerned about Jacob’s reaction, the man stopped moving.

“Il aime ça?” the man asked quietly. Martin replied in French. “Oui… inquète toi pas. C’est son kink.”

“No, I don’t like it!” Jacob yelled against the ball gag, his body trembling with the force of trying to push the cock out of his ass. It didn’t help—Martin’s words just encouraged the man to thrust more forcefully and Jacob shrieked as the cock sank deep. He tried “Stop! No! Please!” but the ball in his mouth made words impossible.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he was mercilessly fucked by the man, his mind trying to grasp what was happening to him. A groan pulled his eyes back to the other victim, and he saw that the man was… smiling? Martin’s words came back to him… Inquète toi pas. C’est son kink—don’t worry, it’s his kink.

My… kink? Being raped is my kink? He thought frantically. No, wait… being raped is this Gingrich guy’s kink…

They had the wrong man. Someone had signed up to be here… on purpose—Gingrich, obviously—but they had picked up Jacob by accident.

Jacob struggled again, his restrains only allowing him a few centimetres of movement, and he yelled “I’m Jacob Taylor! Jacob Taylor!” but all that came out was “Wawwa wawrar” so he stopped and clenched his eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain.

What the fuck I do? If he was going to be stuck here, his best option was to make it less painful… right? Make the best of it? Jacob blinked through his tears, shaking his head.

Sickened, he tried to picture the article he’d used to convince Karen to finally try anal. Relax. It said the first thing to do is relax.

The guy behind him suddenly pulled out… and slapped his ass. Jacob grunted, his face hot and his sphincter throbbing. Almost instantly a different, smaller cock breached his ass. This time, Jacob quickly put into practice the advice he’d read out to his wife that night, not so long ago: relax, breathe, and bear down.

It still wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t hurt like before. Jacob forced himself to be relaxed and open to the assault while trying to ignore what was happening to him. As the man behind him tried to find his rhythm, the doors across the room swung open and another naked man was wheeled in. This one was strapped down on his back with restraints across his generous belly. His feet were up in stirrups, like he was going to have a gynecological exam. Wide-eyed, Jacob saw the man’s gag had a metal ring holding his mouth open in an O.

A few men broke off from the other group and wandered over to this new offering—smirking, one of the half-dressed businessmen stuck his cock through the ring in the gag, pushing himself nearly balls-deep in the first thrust. Horrified, Jacob closed his eyes, thankful that his own gag didn’t have the same feature—even just brushing his teeth made him gag.

A third man took his place behind Jacob when the other wandered off, causing Jacob to gasp in pain again. This guy was big.

Now I get why Karen said it would only be for special occasions. Jacob felt bad he’d put his wife through this… why would anyone subject themselves to this willingly?

Martin appeared in his peripheral, a questioning look on his face, but Jacob had no idea what these “signs” (hand signs?) were that he’d memorized. More lube? A drink of water? What had he called himself? A valet? What did valets do at sex… conferences?

Was the conference “look” just a theme? Were there other themes? Christ… did he know anyone who was participating? It wasn’t like Gatineau was a huge city.

Grimacing, Jacob started wondering if his asshole could chafe. As if summoned by his thoughts, Martin scooted behind him after the fifth or sixth man was done with him and spread something cooling and slick on his swollen pucker, even dipping a finger in gently to work the lube inside him. A full-service valet. Fucking absurd. Jacob surprised himself with a chuckle even as he braced himself for the next man.

Jacob had no idea how much time had gone by—certainly long enough that his jaw was sore from the ball gag. However, thanks to Martin’s dedicated ministrations, he was well-lubed and not feeling much pain, now that he was used to it. To distract himself, he watched a couple of mostly naked businessmen spit roast the fat man with the O gag for a while. Jacob noticed a bright red handprint adorned the man’s white belly—he frowned, wondering if the man was enjoying himself. It was impossible to tell. Sighing, Jacob closed his eyes. He had begun to note the differences between the men who used him, and not strictly anatomical—some were jerky and hurried with their motions, lacking any kind of real method to their thrusting. Others were more careful as they fucked him. And, as far as he could tell, none had actually climaxed. Jacob hoped to hell that regular STI screenings were a strict requirement for this… club, whatever it was, because there were no condoms in sight.

The newest man fucking Jacob was one of the “better” ones… he had asked for extra lube before taking hold of Jacob’s hips and sinking his cock in halfway, and then had actually massaged Jacob’s ass cheeks gently as he worked up to a steady rhythm.

Jacob frowned, closing his eyes. There was… something… happening. A not-unpleasant something. The leather beneath him was slick once more with his sweat, but it wasn’t from pain this time. He breathed around the gag and his brow furrowed… his dick was getting hard.

Jacob shook his head, not quite believing what was happening to him. Then the man began to scratch Jacob’s lower back lightly, giving him dopamine shivers, and a moan burst out of him.

He had moaned. In pleasure.

Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with me?

The device Jacob was strapped to had a built-in groove right at his groin, making room for his erection—his dick was rather pleased with the warm leather friction. As the man fucked him a little faster, Jacob started to gasp in time to the thrusts. It started to feel like nothing he’d ever felt before. Oh god… yes.

“Stop! This isn’t Mr. Gingrich!” Jacob opened his eyes and turned to see a young man in the same well-tailored suit as Martin running towards him. This new valet pushed Martin behind him and leaned down, staring into Jacob’s eyes.

“There’s been a mistake. Obviously, a mistake. I’m so sorry, sir,” he said as he reached behind Jacob’s head to unbuckle the gag. “I cannot begin to express my… deepest sincerest apologies for the mix-up. Are you all right, sir?” There was a babble of angry voices and Jacob heard Martin let out an audible sob—it sounded like heads were going to roll because of the mistake. Jacob ground his back teeth together and then licked his lips, relieved that his mouth was finally free. The man fucking Jacob had stopped mid-thrust, obviously confused, still half-buried in Jacob’s body.

“You,” barked the new valet to the man behind Jacob. “Get lost.”

“Wait!” Jacob yelled as the man pulled his cock out, startling himself. “No… Let him finish,” he said through numb lips.

The valet’s brows shot up. After a long moment, he asked, “What? Are— are you sure?” He stared at Jacob like he’d lost his mind.

“Let him finish,” Jacob repeated, closing his eyes.

“You heard him,” said the valet, his tone all business again. “Get to it.”

The man didn’t need a second prompting. He grabbed Jacob’s hips again, his touch almost tender, and eased himself back into Jacob’s sore hole. Jacob grit his teeth, breathing out with a shudder.

What the hell am I doing?

But after a few smooth thrusts, his dick was rock hard again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten so hard—not in a decade, surely. It was glorious. But soon Jacob groaned, frustrated when his pleasure plateaued, not going further. Impatient, he tilted his pelvis back and gasped—it was like his ass was talking directly to his dick.

As if sensing Jacob’s needs, the man increased his pace, thrusting deep and steady like a metronome until they were both grunting in unison. Then the man’s voice shifted in pitch, his fingers digging into Jacob’s flesh before he gasped rapidly a few times.

He’s cumming inside me, realized Jacob. The first one to do so. There was something so degrading, so alien, so confusingly exciting about having a stranger pump his guts full of semen that Jacob’s balls reacted by blowing their own load. He yelled out, a mad, frantic howl of pleasure as he pumped jet after jet of cum into the leather groove until his cock was drowning in it. Jacob’s orgasm stretched on, his restrained limbs twitching and jerking as every last drop was purged from his aching nuts, the howl distilled to nothing more than a hoarse moan.

And then it was over.

Jacob went limp, breathing like he’d run up a dozen flights of stairs, and felt hot tears well up in his eyes. Soon, his sobs drowned out everything else.

+++

Dazed, Jacob stepped out of the limousine, his legs still wobbly despite his ordeal having ended nearly an hour earlier. He saw, to his amazement, that his briefcase was still on the sidewalk where he had left it. Brow creased, he bent to pick it up, and noticed his phone lying face down beside it. He grabbed it and turned it over. The screen had a spiderweb crack in one corner where it had fallen. Thumbing it awake, he glanced at all the messages from work but didn’t read them. He couldn’t give a shit about the Simpkins folio.

Jacob put the phone into his pocket and took out a business card and folded paper. The former had an embossed padlock over a phone number on one side, and 10% Discount scribbled in blue ink on the other side—a discount in case he wished to participate in a future “session” like today. Jacob chewed on his lip for a moment, then dropped the card back into his jacket pocket. The paper he unfolded and stared at, a slow smile creeping across his face. It was a cheque. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It was both compensation for the unfortunate mix-up and payment for his silence.

Jacob figured he could live with what happened. Right? Right?

He tucked the cheque back into his pocket and touched the business card again, running his fingertips over the embossing. Eyes glazed, he felt his pulse quicken.

His hands on my hips, his cock deep in my ass… Jacob tried to remember the sounds the man had made. Sweat glued the shirt to his back as he rubbed the business card like a worry stone. Sure, they’d all fucked him, those men… but he… he had been different somehow. Jacob narrowed his eyes, staring into his memories.

A car horn beeped twice, and he jerked out of his trance, mouth dry and eyes staring. Karen waved at him through the windshield, grinning as she pulled up in front of him—Jacob yanked his hand out of his pocket as if the business card had burst into flames.

She rolled down the window. “Hey babe! You’re home early.”

Jacob’s smile snapped into place. “Yeah… uh, I thought I was going to be tied up all day, but I managed to get away.” A giggle hid in his throat, but he swallowed it back.

Karen’s cheeks dimpled further. “You look like you’re in a good mood. I take it the meeting went well? Steve didn’t try to take over like usual?”

Jacob nodded slowly. “It was… good. Yeah. It went well,” he lied, beaming like he’d won the lottery. A stranger’s spunk lay nestled in his guts like a dirty pearl and his sphincter still throbbed like a bass drum.

“Oh?”

Already brittle, his grin started to crack, and he took in a few quick breaths. “Yup. I had a great day.” He swallowed, phantom hands around his waist again. Jacob quickly swiped at the tear mounting in his left eye with one finger while he pulled at the front of his pants with the other hand to hide his stiffening cock. “A really… great… day.”