Bridgycat
Treat me like a dog…

Andrew managed to frantically pull everything together for the flight to New York over the phone. Marsha, his beloved assistant, had come down to the police station just as Andrew was being called in to finalize and sign his statement. He'd told Marsha to double check everything was booked correctly, and change the time for the soundcheck before the show.
 
He followed Constable Taylor into his office, his hands shaking at his sides. He was worried that Martin would be causing some kind of mad ruckus in holding. If there was any more trouble for them, even another hour's worth, the whole tour would be set back by a day, maybe two. Andrew caught himself in mid-worry. What did he care; he was leaving the band right? The guys would have to figure all this out on their own. Then again, there was always the thought that maybe he was doing the wrong thing. Leaving the band would mean leaving Martin alone to deal with David and Alan, who, when at their worst, could devour Martin's psychological state in a single night. Andrew didn't know what to choose - his peace of mind, or his friend's safety and sanity.
 
Constable Taylor cleared his throat. "I thank you again for your patience, Mr. Fletcher. I know you're a busy man."
 
Andrew shook his head and pushed up his glasses. "Of course."
 
"Mr. Gore will only be in for another hour or so, just as long as it takes for us to finalize this paperwork, process the bail payment, etc."
 
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Another hour?"
 
"Unfortunately. It will be the quickest way we can do this and still let him leave the country tonight."
 
Andrew looked at his watch. It was already almost midnight. "Very well, very well. What do you need me to do?"
 
Constable Taylor reached into a drawer and pulled out a long blank sheet with the official city seal, and names and terms Andrew wasn't familiar with. "This is a statement form. I just need you to tell me, in your own words, everything that happened. And then I need you to write it down. You cannot do both at the same time."
 
Oh what now, you think me incapable to do it? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be me right now!? Andrew suddenly thought. He became worried - was it happening again? He couldn't have another panic attack, not now.
 
"Alright…" Andrew sat back in his chair and thought the shortest way around telling the tale. "Let's see."
 
Constable Taylor watched him intently.
 
"There was an argument between Martin and I."
 
"About what?"
 
"Well, it's hard to explain." Andrew hesitated. He had to be careful not to name names. "It really was just grounded in my concern for him… he's going through an odd time now in his divorce, and keeps - seeking solace in people he shouldn't be seeking it in. Also, in recent weeks, because of these people he shouldn't be pursuing, he's returned to drinking. We also have some new business contracts that need to be finalized in New York, which have presented myself and Martin with a lot of stress. Um… we'd had dinner at my restaurant… and the argument got pretty heated and I - said some things out of anger I shouldn't have said, cut myself short and just left. I didn't see him behind me as I was pulling out of the driveway."
 
"So you were not aware he followed you."
 
"No sir. I'd only told him when I left that it was still fairly early, and I wanted to go for a drive." Andrew shook his head. "I didn't know he was going to go to the lengths he did -"
 
"Right, so, you left the restaurant, Martin was following you, unbeknownst."
 
"He kept calling me on my phone, over and over, and I didn't want to pick up. That's when he rammed me from behind and I nearly lost control of the car. He told me to pull over off of Adams Street, and I did, just as I'd forgotten that Adams is famous for its - well, you know."
 
"Male prostitution." Constable Taylor arched his brow.
 
Andrew sighed. "Right. Well, I didn't get out of the car, I watched Martin through the rear view, and I saw him take in about four men, into his car, and speed off. He called me again. I had just gotten to following him when I answered. He told me he was going to take them to a hotel. I knew he was doing this to spite me."
 
"Oh?"
 
"For the sake of his privacy I can't say why, but - the person he is currently mad over is a man. I'd warned him against it, not because he is a man but because … of the particular man… we all know Martin isn't exactly shy." Andrew looked to the windows a moment, remembering the first time he'd seen him dance naked on piano. He shook his head. "Given our dear friend in question, he's an extreme man."
 
"I see."
 
"Anyway, it was shortly after he'd call to insult me and yell at me that I saw his taillights run off the road… and saw him clip your car." Andrew shook his head. "I'm so sorry."
 
"Why the apology? He's a grown man. He needn't have anyone to answer for him."
 
"I know… That's pretty much everything that happened."
 
"Alright, well I thank you. Please write it all out, the same way you described it to me. I will be right back, I need to check on the status of the bail payment and inform Mr. Gore he will be released shortly. Although keep in mind, he will need to reappear in court. His lawyers have been informed of this."
 
"Very well. Thank you."
 
Constable Taylor rose from the table and left Andrew to work on the statement. As he proceeded downstairs, part of him was eager to see Martin Gore in the flesh. He was a mad fan of Depeche Mode. Even though the man had rammed into his car with a backseat-ful of male prostitutes, it would be a pleasure just to let him know he'd be released inside an hour.
 
Martin looked around him. He was coming out of his drunken stupor and realized he was in a room with four very frustrated "professionals." Thankfully they weren't behaving like they knew who he was, but all the same - they were picked up and remained to be paid.
 
They were all dressed rather nicely, in tuxedo pants and tight shirts of varying colors. Some part of his memory reminded Martin that one of the men said they were coming from a theme party.
 
"You look familiar, Mista Blonde Bombshell." One of them taunted. He threw something at Martin. Martin realized it was his long suede jacket.
 
"Oh, I know who he is!" Another shouted.
 
"He looks like an out of work clown!" One quipped.
 
"I thought it was Shirley Temple on shots," one cackled, and all the others joined in.
 
"No but really, I do know who he is!"
 
"Oh please Larry you think you know everyone." A redheaded one said.
 
"It's the guy from that band. How's that song go, oh damn." He started singing a parody of what was supposed to be Enjoy the Silence. Martin rolled his eyes and got to his feet.
 
"Do I need to announce who I am?" he said finally.
 
"You're that guy!" The redhead said. "You? Mister, come get into my car, I have all the money you could ever want? Shouldn't you be at home bangin' the missus?"
 
The redhead stood up, flashier than the rest. "No. Haven't you seen their videos? He's always dressed like some sort of ninny. He loves his shorts and skirts. Don't you?" His deep voice resounded around the room. He pushed at Martin.
 
"Besides Money Bags, where's our money? It's bad enough we're in here with you, we haven't got a thing to show for it!" One shouted.
 
The flashy one suddenly got an idea. "Larry, make sure there's no one in the hall would you?" he asked. "I think I just thought of a way for payment." He looked Martin's body over; the tightness of his suede pants, the simple, long angles of his pleather shirt.
 
Martin sat on the floor. "Piss off, I'll beat you all to a pulp if you lay a hand on me. I promise I will make sure a check is sent to all of you for your trouble," he slurred. He still hadn't realized the danger he was actually in.
 
Larry went to the door and looked through the netted window. "Alls well Pierce." He turned with a bright smile. "What're you thinkin'?"
 
Pierce pulled Martin up by the shoulders and slapped him. The others laughed out loud at the look on Martin's face. Slowly he was putting everything together.
 
"I wonder if someone like you's wanted this to happen… probably have ay?" Pierce said, pressing him up against the wall. "Boys, help me keep him where he is. Let's remind him to bring cash next time he comes 'round."
 
The group laughed as they came around both sides of Pierce and pulled Martin's arms out to the sides. Martin pleaded with them in terror while another deeper, stranger side of him jumped for joy. He suddenly remembered one night, after having a wild romp with David, that he'd admitted a prison-sex fantasy. True, it was always a hot thought in the back of his mind but he never wanted it to really happen.
 
The whole room smelled like cologne and sweat and strangers' breaths. Two of the guys held his arms down while a third undid his pants from behind. They pulled them down and spanked him repeatedly. They pinched his butt-cheeks and bit them in between spankings. Martin tried to break free from their grips, or flail his legs out, but it was no use. One of them got on his knees and sucked on the inside of his thighs and his balls. Another rubbed the shaft of his cock. Martin was worried that he hadn't heard Pierce's voice in a while. And then, there it was.
 
"Open him up for my boys. I don't want him to get all stiff on us," he said and laughed. For a moment he sounded like David, only far more menacing.
 
Martin felt hands spreading his ass, hands with cold fingertips and sharp, uneven nails, holding open and slightly bent over. Pierce came up behind him and pushed himself in, without the kindness of lubrication or condom. Before he knew it he felt Pierce's hips bucking harshly against his. The others rooted him on, shouting obscenities in his ears, proclaiming how badly they wanted to be next - how badly they wanted to hear the Rich Boy howl.
 
Pierce had an undeniable rhythm as he punished Martin. He had quite the long, fat cock, and didn't feel like he was ever going to stop. With every rough pounding there would be four more that would be worse, and his nails dug into the sides of Martin's thighs. At one point he managed to get a tight grip on his shoulders and pummeled him even harder. "Is that hard enough for you? The way you like it?"
 
Martin could only gasp in pain, and yet that strange part inside of him moaned in delight.
 
Suddenly Pierce slowed. He drove in his cock by the inch, roughly, under what seemed to be pounds and pounds of pressure. Pierced let out a throaty laugh. "I'm opening you up for the other boys, my dear."
 
The others laughed.
 
Pierced groaned. "You're incredibly tight. Hard to believe you've never done this before. Oh I think I just might have a virgin in my hands, friends. Are you a virgin?"
 
Martin wanted to scream.
 
"Are you? Am I popping you off for the first time?" Pierce insisted, pumping his cock in a little faster.
 
"Y- Yes…" Martin lied.
 
"What was that?"
 
Martin couldn't believe it himself but he was about to come. The riveting pain, the lurid cheers of the others that surrounded him and the heat of their bodies had set something off within him. He wanted the others to watch - he wanted them to see him explode.
 
"Yes, I am. Fuck me!" he suddenly shouted.
 
Pierce and the others laughed outloud, and they began a rhythmic chant of "virgin", following Pierce's growing rhythm, pumping their fists, watching Pierce mercilessly pound Martin's ass. Pierce pressed one hand firmly against the small of Martin's back, and his other hand dug its fingernails into Martin's right shoulder. Pierce's groans and need for release were mounting, his movements ferocious.
 
Finally Pierce exploded inside of him with a maddened scream. Even after his cock had let loose deep inside Martin, he continued massaging it in and out of him. He leaned over Martin and whispered, "Now, you're a whore."
 
He pulled out of him and Martin was suddenly taking on two cocks at a time. This was a sensation he thought he could never fathom. He ducked his head down and the others pushed him onto his hands and knees. They ground their wide, hard cocks into his burning asshole. Occasionally one over-eager cock would pop out, and they'd have to reinsert them both all over again. Pierce stood over Martin and grabbed his head. He forced him to open his mouth and suck the eager, red cock of his friend, while he stroked his own right beside his face. One of the guys that thrust into Martin from behind reached over and massaged his cock forcefully. Again, Martin could feel the hot semen boiling inside him. Everything was so painful yet so delicious, he didn't know how long he could hold on.
 
They'd switched around on him several times before Pierce got to him again, and this time he kept Martin down on his back. He fucked him like a worthless sex toy up against the wall. With each pound, Pierce's face contorted, staving off an orgasm for another couple of seconds. Martin's inner thighs tensed. The mouths around his throat and stomach from the others were biting his flesh, twisting his nipples. Hands clamped down on his wrists. Suddenly, a giant shudder hurled itself down his spine and he let out a roar, and Pierce did the same. Pierce pulled out and dumped the rest of his juices all over Martin's chest and stomach. The others followed suit. One came into his mouth; the others came onto his chest and onto each other.
 
Pierce pulled Martin up and laughed at him. "Don't do any STD commercials any time soon," he said. The look on his face suddenly changed, looking over Martin's shoulder. "Fuck."
 
Everyone turned around to see Constable Taylor looking through the window. They heard his keys jingling and the lock turning. The Constable looked at no one but Martin and said, "You're to be - released - within the hour." The Constable zipped his fly and closed and locked the door.

THE END

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