Dale's eyes could only see pitch darkness. Warm air caressed his skin and he could detect the dusty smell of worn carpet. Trying to move his head, he felt an immovable pressure, first on the sides of his skull, then on the temples and the back. He could open and close his mouth, but only with some effort; he felt the dull fuzziness of some kind of drug.

"My God," he thought. The last thing he remembered was coming back from the dance floor, a hot chick, a blonde with great tits who had asked him to dance. And did they dance!

Suddenly, she had turned and said something like, ". . . later dude". When Dale finally made it back to the bar, his Sex on the Beach was still right there on the bar, a little watery. He picked it up and swallowed it down; he was always hot and thirsty after a vigorous dance. He could feel someone watching him. He glanced around, dozens of dudes and chicks laughing, talking, showing each other their new tats or piercings. Then he saw him.

A tall, slender guy wearing a leather jacket and shades leaning against the bar, not four feet to his left. Dale's left; he had looked everywhere but right under his own nose. And Dale knew this asshole was staring at him.

" Goddamned faggot motherfucker.!", Dale thought. "Can't get away from these creeps anywhere!"

Dale had always attracted the unwanted attention of Gay men. He was only of average height, but he was powerfully built from playing quarterback and from a rigorous weight-training regimen. He had short, dark hair and piercing blue eyes; one glance could stop most men in their tracks, make straight women's heart skip a beat, and force Lesbians to reconsider their preference, if only for one time. Like most young men of his status and physical attractiveness, he took the attention he got for granted and the getting of his own way to be his perfect right. And when he got a wrist slap from the criminal justice system for beating a gay man, almost to death, he felt completely triumphant with no guilt at all, though his victim would suffer a lifetime of chronic pain and the victim's mother had a heart attack and died right there in the courtroom when the sentence was announced.

Suddenly, the drink hit him. Hard. Dale felt fuzzy all over. The floor turned to water and his legs collapsed from under him.

Again he moved his mouth, but his mouth was dry and he could make no noise except for a faint hiss. His head was firmly in place. His arms were out from his sides, he could feel some sort of restraints on his wrists and around the elbows. The restraints were of. . . leather? And he could not move them higher or lower.

The chair he was seated in was a padded and held him up from the thighs. He felt the cool air against his bare butt. Reflexively, he flexed his sphincter. His heart began to pound and he snapped his virgin hole tight again. And his cock and balls were all tied up, balls separated neatly from each other and his sex.. There was no way to shake off whatever was holding them together.

''It's okay," he told himself.''. . . it's okay. . . just some kind of stupid joke."

But he didn't believe his own words. His knees were tied securely to posts, legs slightly bent, ankles secured with restraints which were somehow connected to bolts on the floor. His disproportionately big feet flexed, his long toes could barely touch the floor. The fuzzy carpet tickled and he laughed in spite of his fear. Or because of it.

"If somebody touches my fuckin' feet. I'll die. . . I'll DIE!'' He screamed inside.

Then the air moved. Dale could hear a door whisper shut.

Then the laugh.. Out of the darkness. A deep, rumbling laugh that sounded like it emerged from deep within the captor's gut. The sound Dale heard was full of triumph, mockery . . . and contempt..

"How ya doin' BOY!"

Dale began to tremble. His blood rushed to his face.

"F. . . f. . . f. . . fuck you!" Dale tried to sound defiant, but his throat tightened. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a wuss.

The his captor really laughed. Dale felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. Despite the comfortable cool of the room, beads of sweat began to pop from his brow.

Suddenly, Dale felt a hard slap on his butt cheeks, first one then the other. He screamed in pain.

"Fuckin' pussy!" the man sneered.

Dale said, "What. . .what do you want. . . "

"Right now, I got what I want. Your ass!

Dale felt as if ice water had been poured into his heart.

"My Dad," Dale stammered. "He's got money. . ."

Dale felt both of his nipples squeezed. He yelled in terror and pain, the burning sensation covering his chest.

"Tryin' to BRIBE me, huh? YOU FUCKIN' TWERP! You can't hide behind Daddy's money here, little boy! Bein' a sporting kinda guy, what I ultimately want from you is a price way above rubles."

Dale was speechless. This guy was a maniac! Dale's mind could barely contain thought. He struggled against his bonds, but they held fast. Now sweat began to cover his entire body. The man, his captor, just laughed, louder and louder. "Might as well just relax, You're not going anywhere. Even if you could escape, you have no idea where you are. How do you know you're still in New York? Or even in the United States? Imagine yourself running around totally naked in the middle of nowhere.! Even if somebody spotted you, they wouldn't stop for some screaming naked guy, some goddamn nut case. And if anybody did stop, it'd be some horny truckers who would just love to plow that sweet, pussy-boy ass of yours!"

Dale stopped struggling. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Ya know, kid, I oughtta put you out of your misery right now. But I'm going to give you a break, just because I'm on a generous mood. I'll just keep you for awhile. Not long. Then, I'll let you go."

"Y. . . you. . . you will?"

"Yes, I will. But you have to give me two things. The first one is a blow job."

"But. . . I'm STRAIGHT, man!"

"I don't mind."

And with that, Dale heard the sound of metal against concrete (a chair? a stool?). He felt the sharp pain of his ears being pulled up and back. "Open up, boy! Daddy has a surprise for you!"

Dale felt the long hard cock brush against his neck. He clamped his lips shut as his captor sex pressing against them. Then he felt nothing.

"Faggot'" he thought.

Then he felt a dull crawling ache that started from his left nipple and radiated outward.. He yelled in pain and rage.

"Like that, boy?"

"What the fu--!"

"That was an electric cattle prod. You think THAT felt bad, wait'll I put it against your balls," the man said with contempt."

"What do you WANT, man? Hey, my Dad's fuckin' loaded! I'll see to it that he gives you a shitload of money--"

The man was good as his word. Dale felt the same pain, magnified at least a hundred times, radiating from his balls. Dale screamed in spite of himself. "You already know what I want. First, I want you to SUCK MY COCK! Then, I just want one more thing. . . your mind!"

Dale struggled against the restraints, cursing and spitting, but he was bound ultra-tight. His captor chucked evilly. After about an hour of non-stop struggling, Dale was drenched in sweat , no closer to escaping than when he started..

"Open your mouth, pussy-boy!"

Dale's lips quivered, perspiration stung his eyes.

"NOW!"

Dale's mouth shyly opened. And his mouth was filled with a hard, alien presence.

Dale was alone now, his face and neck encrusted with two shots worth of his captor's cum.

Then he heard the door open.

Though Dale had been alone for hours and was thoroughly exhausted (if the fear hadn't kept him awake, his awkward position would have) he now struggled with a renewed energy.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, MOTHERFUCKER! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO GET AWAY WITH THIS! YOU'RE NOT ! AGGGHHHHHH!"

Dale felt a finger poking into each of his hairy armpits, barely touching them. Dale bit into his lower lip. The two fingers began to wiggle slightly. "MMmmph. . . .errrrrrrrrr. . . . heh heh. . . . .g. . . . .god. . . . .AHHHH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The fingers burrowed deep into the sensitive pits. Dale yelled and cursed. But mostly laughed.

"Awwww! Want Daddy to stop?"

"YES!" yelled Dale."HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Then his captor stopped. Silence.

Dale felt real fear now, fear that filled him so deeply he could feel nothing else.. He was to afraid to talk, to ask, "Why?" or to plead for mercy, or release.

Strong fingers grabbed Dale's ribs. Like a bolt of lightning, the ticklish feelings shot through his muscular body. His sudden, loud laughter bounced off the walls.

"Oh, GOD!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. . . " Dale could not think, only react. Laughter poured out of him. He could feel the hot blood rushing to his face.

"Yeah, take it you little shit! Think you're a tough man, huh? You're just a boy! And I'm going to make you look like a boy."

His captor kept his tickling and verbal taunting of Dale for a good forty-five minutes with out a stop. When Dale finally felt those strong fingers leaving his ribs alone, his sigh of relief quickly turned into a yelp of surprise when he felt his cock and balls being pulled down by an incredibly strong hand. Another hand whipped the restraints off Dale's privates. He felt fingertips grazing the tip of his cock. He started to get hard.

"Oh, God!", cried Dale.

"God has nothing to do with this, BOY! Now, you just wait right here. Be right back."

The man released Dale's cock and balls. Soon, Dale hard the door open.

"By the way," the man said. "You look real cute when you blush!"

The door closed.

And Dale's face got even redder.

After what seemed like hours, Dale hard the door again. That, and the sound of water sloshing in a bucket.

"Look, man," Dale pleaded. "Let's just forget about all this. I won't press charges, okay? Just let me--"

" 'Just let me go' ", mocked his captor. "That's what they all say. Just a while ago, you got HARD man! I mean, I was IMPRESSED! Your cock is almost half the size of mine! Not bad for a boy! But, hey, whether you want to admit it or not, you kinda like what's happening. And who am I to deny you?. . . You know, your voice is starting to get a little hoarse. . . how's about a drink?" Dale nodded. He felt a cool straw against his lips. He drank down the cool liquid, which tasted like lemonade, but strangely different. Earthy. "Just a little water with a little something extra. . . that's right. . . keep drinking. . . You've had enough. For now."

Dale felt the straw being pulled away. A trickle of liquid spurt from the lower left side of his mouth and his tongue darted after it. He actually started to feel. . . relaxed. Hell, if this guy had really wanted to hurt him, it would've already happened. He's just playing some sick joke.

"Wait'll I get loose," Dale thought. "This guy'll wish he'd never been born!" Dale was so absorbed in his thoughts, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his pubes being pulled by his captor. Before he could speak, he heard the sound of scissors clipping and he felt the hair fall away.

"No man!" Dale yelled."NO WAY!"

"Yes, way! What the fuck are you gonna do about it. Hell, you'll thank me when I'm done!"

Dale yelled and cursed, but his captor continued his task. Soon, he had Dale pubes cut down to a nice fuzz. Then he applied the shaving cream, thoroughly, so that it covered Dale's asshole and balls as well. The young man screamed when he felt the sharp edge of a straight razor against his crotch.

"HEY BOY! SHUT UP AND DON'T SQUIRM! YOU AIN'T GOIN' NOWHERE! You don't want me to have an accident with this razor, would you? So, stay still AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!"

"But--"

"WHAT DID I FUCKIN' TELL YOU?"

Dale felt an intense squeezing, first on one nipple, then another.

"Just a couple of clothespins. Keep your mind on those and do what I told you! SHUT UP! You understand me, MORON!"

Dale gritted his teeth in pain and humiliation; his nipples were in agony and if he breathed too deeply, or even moved, it just got worse. His groin was denuded swiftly and skillfully; his captor had done this kind of thing many times before. Dale remembered something: on some TV show, like HardCopy, it was reported that at least six guys had been kidnapped and tortured in such bizarre ways, the victims would not discuss their experience with the press. There other strange details he could remember only vaguely, something about all the victims having one thing I common, they had all committed heinous assaults against gay men and had received no jail time for their crimes.. All the kidnap victims, who had been originally captured as long as five years ago, were still recovering from their traumas.

Dale was now being wiped clean first with a warm damp towel, then a dry one. "Now," said the man. "your crotch and ass are as smooth as the rest of you ! All you need now is powder, baby!"

With those words, Dale felt an ultra-soft powder puff against his balls. Dale had never felt so vulnerable, so totally NAKED as he felt now. And to top it off, he felt sensitive as hell, not just from the shaving, but Dale just knew there was something in that drink. Dale took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was laugh. But the second he let his breath go. . .

"AGGGGGHHHH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAAHHAHAHA! STOP! STOP! STOOOOOOPPPPPPP! AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!

"Oh, it's going to get better and better! The more I do, the more ticklish you're gonna get. And there's not a GOD DAMN thing you can do about it! You're going to be here awhile so you might as well enjoy yourself.

Dale yelled, laughed and cursed and got ROCK HARD, which added greatly to his utter embarrassment. Dale could barely think, he felt like an animal, a creature only capable of feeling and laughing. The rage and shame he felt gave way to feelings of unbearable pleasure. Dale felt the tip of his throbbing sex being teased by the expertly applied feather wielded by his tormentor. This coupled with the relentless tickling on his hairless balls had Dale on fire. Dale couldn't believe that the tickling could get even more intense, but it did. When Dale got ready to come, his tormentor would ease up, just a little. Then start up all over again. On some other part of his body.

"Please, God!" Dale could barely manage the thought. "Please don't let him get to my feet! Anything but that!"

Dale's captor let out a roar. Then he felt those strong fingers playing with his toes.

"AAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...."

Dale laughed like a demon now. Nonstop. He felt hot tears streaming out of his clenched eyes. The sound of his own laughter bouncing off the walls was deafening.

Time meant nothing. Dale had no idea how many hours had gone by. Sometimes, the man would leave the room, Dale's body still tingling with sensation, then he'd return after a few minutes. He'd give Dale more of the drink, which he would lap up like a cat. Dale was aware that the drink gave his body a warm feeling, not like alcohol, but more like X, but he knew it wasn't X. After drinking, Dale would be more ticklish than ever, his attacker more vigorous than ever.

Eventually, the man shaved what little hair Dale had from the rest of his body, including his head. Dale discovered that his bald head was also ticklish as hell and a little light fingerwork there would drive him nuts. During the process of shaving, Dale had been untied, his blindfold removed (his captor ordered him to keep his eyes closed "or else!"). The young man could have fought his captor but, he no longer wanted to.

Dale was placed in stocks, his toes tied back to little hooks embedded in the stocks themselves. His hands were held in place in the appropriate holes, while his head remained free and blindfolded. Silence. His captor left the room. A long time passed before he heard the door again. Footsteps. The blindfold was whipped away from his eyes.

Track lights provided the black room with soft illumination. Still, Dale squinted. It had been hours (or days?). His vision cleared. Men, dressed in leather, their heads covered with hoods stood in front of him. The tallest one, Dale guessed about 6'4", took a step forward.

"Ready to get serious, boy?" boomed the familiar voice.

Dale's mouth moved, but he could form no words. His naked body trembled. All the men started to chuckle.

The shortest one (Dale figured about 5'8" -- his own height) came forward and strolled behind the captive. Dale felt his asshole being covered with some kind of grease, then, the guy tried to probe him, but Dale shut tight.

"It'll be a lot worse if you resist," said the short guy, voice a tad higher than the tall man. Dale relaxed, knowing that the man's words were true. Another tall man, about 6'2" and built like a fullback, knelt in front of Dale. Then, Dale felt something round and smooth being shoved up his ass. Dale yelped, as the short guy circled the captive's waist and stroked Dale's cock, which got hard quickly. The tall husky man placed a clear cylinder around the hard cock and rawhide strips around the balls, separating them neatly. The top of the cylinder had a tube running from it and leading to a place behind Dale. The tall man nodded.

The helpless stud heard a switch flick on. Whatever was up his ass began to vibrate while the cylinder began to pulsate sensuously on his cock.

"Goddamn," said the short guy. "This boy sure takes to this stuff. Look at that dick!"

Everyone laughed and pointed. Dale blushed furiously; he had never been so embarrassed.

"We're really gonna give it to you, kid."

"Shit, you'll be lucky if we ever let you go!"

"Look at that cock GROW! Man, this little bitch is just cravin' it!" If scarlet had a feeling, Dale felt it. He never felt so NAKED and helpless, with not a hair on his body, save for his brows and lashes. He felt his face get redder with each passing moment with the outrageous humiliation of this whole scene. And yet he had never been so aroused and alive, like his whole body had become a big, throbbing, sex organ.

"I sure hope you're ready for what's about to happen to you boy," growled his original captor.

"R. . . ready for what?"

His original captor swaggered over to and lifted the young man's chin with his strong hand. Dale could see the fierce black eyes through the slits of the hood. Dale's balls made a sudden descent downward and he cried out in agony, the tall man had them in his vise-like grip.

"Call me SIR! You little ASSHOLE! In fact, you call every man in this fucking room SIR, or I'll fuckin' cut these off and shove 'em down your throat!"

The hand on Dale's chin disappeared. Then the awful pain off his captive balls being lightly slapped by the other hand. Knowing his pleas for mercy would be futile, Dale began to cry.

"What a wimp! I'm barely touching you! This is NOTHING compared to what's about to come down!"

"Awwwwww, lookit the poor baby cry!--"

"Hey, little boy, want some cookies and milk?--"

They continued to laugh and jeer. Dale could not stop crying, his still hard cock leaked pre-cum by the spoonful. Nothing Dale thought could get it to go soft, to lose this further humiliation. Dale bawled.

"Hey guys," the man said, releasing Dale's balls. "Shut up a minute, okay?" The room became silent instantly. Though Dale continued to weep softly, the silence helped calm him down.

"Boy, I really didn't plan on this happening. Here you are, tied up good and tight, totally naked, shaved and exposed, in front of a bunch of guys, who're acting like a bunch of hyenas. Tell you what. . . it's over."

Dale's head perked up, the faintest trace of a smile spread across his exhausted face. The redness began to leave his face and yes.

"It's over. . .we're not going to make you cry anymore. . .we're gonna make you

LAUGH!"

Like ravenous wolves on a stray lamb, the men pounced on Dale. The young man screamed. He felt as if he were struck by lightning and every ticklish nerve in his body were suddenly and totally exposed.

"NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Dale could no longer form words, could not think about what happened in the past or what would happen in the future. Only the present was real and it was commanding him to LAUGH!

In this timeless state, he felt every ticklish spot, from the top his newly-shaved head to the soles of his ultra-sensitive feet being teased to the limit and beyond. The mechanical stimulation of his cock and prostate increased too. Between bouts of laughter, Dale managed to groan and growl. He was getting close. . . so close. He felt his load swell up from inside him like molten metal. Every cell in his body was hot, ready to explode from the build up of energy. Then the machinery ground to a halt. His captors stopped their tickling actions.

"Motherfucker," Dale growled, his voice raspy and harsh.

The men all laughed and sneered, Someone poured oil over Dale's sweat drenched back and spread it around with the help of the of the others. In no time, he was covered in it, his muscular body taking on a hot shine and gleam which further aroused his captors. Dale saw a full glass of clear liquid, a straw protruding from the top. Dale down the full glass in seconds. Dale took a deep breath. He know what was about to happen.

And the action started. Again.

After hours and hours of the treatment, Dale was a mindless sex beast, a laughing screaming animal who wanted only one thing: to have an orgasm. A big one. The only time his tormentors let up was to let him drink, and every time he did, he felt a renewed heat over his entire body. His cock and balls were on fire! All the tickling nerves on his body were switched all the way ON! Even getting his ear blown was unbearable!

During one of his all to short breaks, he heard his chief tormentor ask, "Wanna cum BOY!"

"YES!"

"Yes. . . what?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You can do better than that!"

The room became silent. Dale knew, without having to be told, what he had to say next.

"Yes. . . master."

Though all his tormentors wore leather hoods, Dale could tell they were all smiling. They get into their positions again, surrounding their captive. Their attentions were now slower and more deliberate. The machinery was switched on again and the pleasure was agony. Dale began to feel exhilarated in his torment. He felt both in and out of his body, as if part of him could watch what was going on. The energy built up on his groin, as if it were about to take on a life of its own.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! GOD! I'm CUMMING! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!" And he continued to laugh and growl as the cum shot out of him in long, white strands, an amount so large, three of the men whistled in sincere appreciation. The clear cylinder quickly filled up, the tube from the top sucked the cum out, Dale could not see where the tube led: a large glass jar right behind him. A very large jar.

His chief tormentor tickled Dale's balls. The machine kept stroking. The captives face was a wild grimace of laughter an total agony.

"Stop," he pleaded. "HAHHAHAHAHAHA. YOU'RE NUTS MAN! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!--"

"You got some nerve calling me names BOY," the man sneered. "You wanted to cum. I'm just giving you what you wanted."

The machine kept stroking and within seconds, everyone was back in their places.

Dale would never have believed that his body could get more sensitive. But it did. His screaming laughter once again filled the dungeon, barely drowning out the taunts of his captors.

And he came again.

And they continued.

After a LONG time, Dale passed out.

"Think he's had enough, Jack," asked one the captors, the tall man with the linebacker build. His voice had a strong Georgian accent and was edged with concern.

Dale's body was drenched in sweat and baby oil. Jack detached the jar full of cum from its tube. Slowly, he massaged the cum all over Dale's body. Every muscle on the young man's body was even tauter and more defined than before; it had been quite a workout.

All the men in the room took off their hoods. Sighs of relief filled the once noisy chamber.

One of them, a muscular Hispanic man with a goatee, fumbled with the pocket on top of his shirt. He pushed the "off" button of the recorder.

Jack laughed," Hey, we have the whole damn thing on video.

There had been three videocams recording the event. Ken, the Southerner, would do the final edit.

Al smirked, "I like to play the audio as I enter our adventures into my computer. It's inspiring."

"Should we be talking this loud?" asked Ken.

"That kid's practically in a coma!" Al laughed.

Jack glanced at his watch. "It's almost dawn. We better get going."

The men released Dale from the stocks while Jack watched. They prepared Dale for the next phase. As always, Jack felt both high and exhausted after these scenes; being head honcho of The Order of the Feather was an awesome responsibility. Dale was vaguely aware of his surroundings, lying down against soft carpet, feeling the sensation of movement. Blindfold firmly in place, Dale felt the slave collar firmly around his neck. His wrists were circled with tight leather, wrist bands and, with curved fingers, he could feel the metal links hooking the bands to the collar. His balls and cock were once again tied firmly and separated by leather straps. He wore nothing else.

He could hear murmuring and chuckling. The sound of a door opening. A rush of air and the sensation of flying through space. The roar of the van engine as it sped away. Bright sunlight on his sensitive skin on one side, rough pavement on the other, Then . . . laughter. Lots of laughter.

Dale stood up on wobbly legs. Somebody whipped off the blindfold. His eyes squinted in the bright sunlight. It took only moments to assess the situation and Dale yelled in surprise.

He was standing in the opening of an alley. Crowds of drunk people, biker types, leather people, amused tourists clicking cameras furiously began to circle him. Since his hands were linked to the slave collar, Dale could not cover his cock since his wrists were linked to the slave collar. He tried to form words, but nothing would come out except babble.

"Hey, LOVE your costume!"

"Look at that ass! Woof!"

"NICE DICK!"

"Bend over and show us your hole!"

"Hot Damn!"

Then a tall bodybuilder wearing Levi cutoffs and hiking boots gave Dale a poke in the ribs. Dale laughed, his body more sensitive than it had ever been. Then somebody from behind placed his wiggling fingers on Dale's butt. Dale jumped and squealed. Like a feeding frenzy members of the crowd, men and women, came up and had a go with Dale. In no time, the young man was in hysterics. He started to run away, but the crowd was thick and he couldn't get far. Dale could see video cameras everywhere. With all the tickling of all parts of his body, Dale started to get hard again. He heard scattered applause and his face, once again, got redder and redder.

Suddenly, a small crowd of leathermen picked Dale up and carried him away. "We're going to put you to work, man"

As he was being carried, the tickling continued and Dale could not stop laughing not even long enough to utter a short sentence. He spotted a street sign. Folsom. Wasn't that the name of an old Johnny Cash song?

Then before him. He saw his fate. He screamed and laughed and struggled. To no avail.

Jack and his friends saw the whole thing from a balcony about a block away, with the aid of a telescope. Dale was now in a pillory and a huge leatherman was showing the crowd the best ways to apply tickle torture. He frequently invited one or more members of the audience to help demonstrate. And Dale could not stop laughing, his hard cock poking the air, his face red with embarrassment. Many people had cameras and camcorders and there were even television cameras there (Dale's cock would no doubt be digitally obscured). It would be a while before anyone recognized Dale Herron, the young man who disappeared from a New York dance club five days ago. Good thing the van used to transport Dale had a stolen license plate and was now in a garage where in would be re-painted. Jack, as always, had thought of everything. He even knew a friend with a private jet, Jay, who could help whisk the infamous gay basher from New York to Jack's private dungeon in San Francisco, just in time for the Folsom Street Fair, the largest leather event I the world.

And that drug! Tasteless, but powerful. It made Ecstasy look like aspirin. One of Jack's San Francisco friends came up with it and everyone agreed that it would be all the rage. Those taking it could be conditioned to be sexually aroused by anything. It was already making the rounds in sex clubs in San Francisco and New York where people called it Liquid Leather.

Jack enjoyed being with his buddies, his fellow members of the order. But, he couldn't wait to get back to New York and begin work on another project. He was also devoted to his first calling; he was anxious to take confession again in his everyday identity as Father John.