Clay was walking back to the frat house after his last lecture of the day. It had been long and boring and he was feeling both tired and hungry. His mind was set on the pizza he had ordered for delivery just a short while after he reached the house. His mouth watered at the thought of it. He had decided that once he had eaten he would relax and watch some TV before going early to bed. The other guys sharing the frat house were planning on going out so he was sure of a quiet evening.
It was while thoughts of this were running through his mind that he was conscious of an unmarked van pulling up alongside him. The driver wound down his window and leaned out to ask the way to the freeway. Clay, busy giving the man instructions, failed to notice a second man had gotten out of the rear of the van and had come up behind him. A hand went over his face and a cloth covered his nose and mouth. The cloth had an odd smell – something like disinfectant or medicine.
He must have passed out, for the next thing he knew he was laying on the floor of a vehicle, a vehicle that was moving and moving fast. He tried to get up and realised that his hands but his feet were bound with duct tape. His head was muzzy but he could make out in the gloom that there was a man sat in the corner of the van watching him.
“He’s come round,” the man said, obviously addressing himself to the driver of the van, for that it what the strange vehicle was.
“Is he secure?” came the reply. “Sure, I done him up well. There’s no way he can get free,” the first man answered as he prodded Clay with a foot. “You OK boy?” he asked.
“What’s going on – where are you taking me?” Clay asked, his throat dry and his heart throbbing in his ribcage as though trying to force its way out of his body.
“You are our meal ticket boy,” the first man said with a chuckle in his voice. “Your pappy is going to pay us handsomely to get you back.”
Clay guessed that he had been kidnapped and unless this was some kind of student stunt, he was in the hands of a couple of crooks who would be expecting the Senator, his father to pay for his safe return. It was clear that he was not going to gain much by trying to escape from the kidnappers while in the moving vehicle so he decided to just lie still and wait to see what would happen next.
The van seemed to travel for hours. It began to rock and rumble, as it appeared to leave the highway and take to a dirt track. Judging by its speed and counting the minutes as best he could Clay reckoned that they must have gone two maybe three miles off the highway before the van drew to a stop. The doors of the van were thrown open and the voice Clay recognised as that of the driver said, “Right, get him out.”
The man who had been sitting in the back of the van with him struggled to his feet and jumped out of the back of the vehicle. Clay then felt his feet being grabbed by two hands and he was pulled toward the door. The two men sat him up in the doorway and pulled him forward so that he was standing on his feet that were still secured together with the tape. One of the men bent down and with a murderous looking flick knife slashed through the tape so that he could walk. The man stood up and prodded him with the knife. He gave Clay no option but to walk into what looked like an old deserted farmhouse. They went upstairs to a large dusty bedroom that contained a broken down looking bed with a grubby mattress on it together with a worn looking gray blanket. Apart from a chair and a plain pine table, the room was otherwise unfurnished. The window, boarded over with rough planks of wood offered only the remains of the daylight that glimmered through the cracks between the planks.
“You will stay here and don’t try to escape.” To add force to his warning the man who had been driving the van clapped a pair of handcuffs to Clay’s wrist, which he attached to the frame of the bed before his companion, using the same knife slashed through the duct tape securing his wrists.
“If you behave yourself, you’ll get some supper but try anything, you’ll go hungry.” The bigger of the two men, the one who had been driving seemed to be in charge. The man who had been sitting with him in the back of the van sat on the only chair by the table saying nothing, Clay looked him over in the weak light provided by the bare light bulb that hung from the ceiling. He looked as though he was about his own age maybe nineteen or twenty, certainly not much older. He was probably about six feet tall and looked fit, as though he may box or maybe be into martial arts. The driver was older and looked more like a nightclub bouncer. Neither man was one that he, Clay, would want to tackle singlehanded.
Clay was fit, tall and with a swimmer’s body. Blond haired, blue eyed but not into any kind of contact sports and he did not fancy his chances with his captors if it came to a fight. Especially as one of them packed a knife and used it freely when he chose. Who was to say whether they carried any other weapons between them? It was as he became accustomed to his surroundings that Clay remembered that he was hungry and the smell of cooking came wafting up from downstairs. Whatever it was that the driver was preparing, it smelt good and Clay was pleased to see the man return with a couple of plates on a tray together with steaming mugs of coffee.
“Room service,” he joked as he placed the tray and its contents on the table. The younger man dragged the table across the floor so that Clay to sit up at it on the side of the bed to which he was tethered. The food was good, eggs and ham with some chunks of bread and the coffee was as good as any he had tasted. The driver had left the two of them alone in the room and Clay assumed that he took his food down in the kitchen.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Clay told the man. “I’ll take you and you can call me Pace, it’s not my real name but it will do. My partner’s name is Grant so far as you are concerned.” So saying Pace released the handcuffs from the bed and cuffed Clay to his own wrist. “No getting away, so don’t try,” he said. He led Clay into a dirty looking bathroom where he attached the cuffs to a radiator alongside the toilet. Pace then sat on the edge of the bath facing Clay.
“I need to take a crap, surely I can have some privacy?” Clay said.
“No way – we’re both men together. No need to be shy with me,” Pace said. Having no alternative and a pressing need, Clay dropped his pants and squatted on the toilet. He saw that Pace was watching him closely and was rubbing his crotch with his right hand. It was obvious that the man was getting hard looking at him as he sat on the john with his pants round his ankles. It occurred to Clay that this may be a sign of a way to get round Pace.
He finished up and pulled up his underwear making sure that Pace got a glimpse of his cock and balls in the process. His pants up and belted, Clay asked to be allowed to wash his hands. He was then taken back to the bed and secured for the night.
To be continued.
Can't wait to read the next chapter! 