Cages - Cathedral City

ManLoveRomance Press LLC

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 76,000
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Dan's BDSM past as a Marine threatens his relationship with Mark, his professional and leathersex partner as the two hunky young Palm Springs private eyes wrestle with the cages, real and imaginary, in the violence of mixed martial arts and in the human mind.

Set in the different worlds of the Marince Corps and mixed martial arts, "Cages - Cathedral City" is the second BDSM mystery involving buff Palm Springs private eyes and leathersex partners Dan and Mark.

Cages come in different forms - the ring for violent MMA contests, the iron-barred narrow cells for defiant captives, and the imaginary cages the mind creates to torment men. Dan and Mark will experience all three over time as the actions moves from Camp Pendleton, California to Berlin and back to the community of Cathedral City.

Will the darkness of violence and decadence overpower the light of determination and devotion?

Cages - Cathedral City
0 Ratings (0.0)

Cages - Cathedral City

ManLoveRomance Press LLC

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 76,000
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Chapter One

I was feeling good that February morning in Palm Springs. It was already approaching seventy degrees, the sky was blue as far as the eye could see, and that was great for a guy from Philadelphia, which was probably snow-covered and certainly freezing cold. Besides, it was a Saturday morning and that meant we had eaten a cooked breakfast at home-a treat for all of us supervised by my partner Mark, but actually cooked by his mother-in-law Edith and served by his daughter, Mary, with scraps eaten by our dog Wolf. Actually I considered them all my family now and sometimes that still surprised me.

Mark and I had been together for over a year-since November 2007, first as homicide detectives in the LAPD and then we'd all moved to Palm Springs the following October, so that we could set up our own business as private investigators-Farrell and Fortunato. I thought our own names made a classy title for a small firm, and the two of us were doing okay businesswise as well as man-sex-wise.

My mission that morning was to try out a new gym that I'd heard about-Hard Bodies-a no-nonsense, no-frills place where working out was taken really seriously. I thought I'd put on a few pounds since Christmas and at one hundred and ninety pounds and twenty-nine years of age I didn't need any surplus fat. Mark had already made a few casual comments, and, as his Master, I couldn't afford to have my boy in better shape than me. Besides, I'd been told early in life, that you always have to watch your weight, if you're of Italian descent as I was.

So I walked up to the reception area of Hard Bodies and explained to the hunky blond guy behind the desk that I wanted a trial membership to see how I liked the place. He took me on the obligatory tour of the premises, and I was impressed by what I saw. It was light, airy, and compact; changing rooms and sauna were clean and in good condition; machines looked in excellent shape, and the sweating men, and a few women, all seemed to be getting on with their routines without too much chatter.

I signed up for two weeks, rented a locker, changed into gym gear and went to work, warming up and settling into my regular routine of exercising the upper body first. My almost six foot frame is well-proportioned and in good working order overall and I'd just finished working my triceps when I looked across to two guys at the weight benches.

Shit, I know that face, I thought. That's got to be my Marine buddy Morgan Dietz. He looks a bit more grizzled around the edges, but hell, it must be seven years or more since I've seen him.

I stopped what I was doing and walked over to watch him instructing a young Hispanic-looking muscled guy. They were hard at work and it was a moment or two before my presence registered, and Morgan looked up with a frown at the silent interruption. Suddenly his face creased into a familiar smile. "Fucking hell, Danny Fortunato. Is that really you, Dan, after all these years?"

"Yeah, who else would be chasing you down after all this time? We need to catch up, Morgan, buddy."

"Didn't expect to find you in Palm Springs, leatherneck. Yes, it's been a fucking long time. Right now I'm working with Marco Morales here. Give me about thirty minutes. You'll still be here?"

"Sure, for you. This is my first time and I'll probably be over on the treadmill by then."

"Right. Then maybe we can go grab some coffee or something when we finish?"

I went back to work on my abs for fifteen minutes, then moved to the bank of treadmills, adjusted the speed and incline and started walking. Almost at once, images flashed across my mind from what, almost ten years ago, was my first serious encounter with then DI Sergeant Morgan Dietz.

That was in boot camp at Camp Pendleton in Southern California, a long way from home and the warm and large Fortunato family. I was a raw recruit and an acting corporal in the United States Marines.

I'd joined up because of a promise I'd made at nineteen to Captain Jack Arthur, a US Marine officer on leave, recovering from war wounds, who had taken charge of a horny high school senior and become his mentor in leather sex, to which I had been drawn when I began to realize I was gay.

Our relationship had ended abruptly when Captain James was recalled to active duty and suddenly disappeared. I was unable to find any trace of what happened to him, but, after two years of college and ROTC, I honored the commitment I'd made to him and signed up for a three-year stint, hoping for the military police, possibly with a career in law enforcement to follow.

Because of my college ROTC training, I had the rank of acting corporal and was nominally in charge of the platoon of twenty-four recruits. That brought me to the immediate attention of DI Sergeant Morgan Dietz, who towered over me at six feet three and two hundred and twenty bronzed pounds. Of an evening, in his separate room at the end of the barracks, the DI liked to arm-wrestle his senior recruits, flexing his tattooed biceps, and he would usually win.

After mess-hall one evening, it was my turn.

"Come in, Fortunato, have a seat on my fucking locker over here by my desk. I like to meet my recruits, to get to know them off duty, so to speak. It's not often I have a fucking acting corporal in the ranks. How come? You have previous service?"

"No, sergeant, sir, I was ordered to join the ROTC when I went to college two years ago."

"Ordered? By whom?"

"Sergeant, sir, I had a Marine officer as a friend, an instructor at the end of high school, and that was his order. I'm in the Corps because of a promise made to him to serve my country."

"First time I've heard that fucking story. Well, good for you, leatherneck, and you seem to be settling in with your fucking platoon. Doing a fair job at it, so far."

"Thank you, sergeant, sir. I appreciate that coming from you."

His eyes snapped open. He peered at me suspiciously from under dark bushy eyebrows, then grunted a reply. "Don't let it give you any fucking ideas, boy. How old are you anyway?"

"Sergeant, sir, I was twenty-one a couple of months ago, but wanted to finish out my second year of college before enlisting."

"What were you studying?"

"Sergeant, sir, criminal justice. I hope to become an MP, maybe afterwards a career in law enforcement."

He began to look interested. And I looked at him closely too. I guess he was about five or six years older than me, but there wasn't an ounce of extra fat on that broad chest and its tight tank top. I had already realized he was an excellent drill instructor, but now I was beginning to see the man.

"Shit, kid, that's where I'm going next: military police." He looked at me shrewdly, "Got to be in first-class condition for those jobs. You fucking ready for that?" Almost absentmindedly he flexed his thick arms behind his head. There were his famous tattoos: a Marine Corps badge, the Stars and Stripes, and a colorful Chinese dragon curling up the other arm.

"Ready to try, sergeant, sir."

He suddenly grinned, a wolfish grin, but it made him look years younger. "You're maybe my man. Done any arm wrestling?" I shook my head. "Well, now's the time to fucking well start. Let's see what you're made of."

I gave him my best and it took him three minutes to pin my arm down on his desk. We were both sweating. I hadn't won, but I hadn't disgraced myself either. After that encounter I was determined to exercise my arms and upper body even more and to try to draw level with my sergeant in subsequent matches.

The two of us developed a healthy respect for one another, although the sergeant singled me out, as the acting corporal, for any and every tough assignment during the remaining weeks of boot camp. I finally figured out that he was forcing me to use my natural athletic abilities and leadership potential. Fucking hell, but I needed another hero in those days, so I began to hero-worship my DI and gradually to fantasize about having sex with him. It was like with Major James Arthur all over again. I didn't know, or care, whether Dietz was gay or not, but I did try to find out discreetly. There were rumors that the sergeant was happily married with kids, but there was no sign of a wife, and he continued to live on base with his recruits.

Finally, in the last weeks of training, I actually won one of the now weekly arm-wrestling contests. Was it a fluke? I lost the rematch, but Sergeant Dietz chuckled over his first defeat. By this time all the recruits knew that the DI was shortly to be promoted, then moving on to a new military police assignment, training men in desert warfare zones and might need a second in command. I asked the sergeant to be considered for the job. "You'll need to try out on a thirty-six hour ‘survival training' exercise," was his reply and obviously his form of an initiation.

Much later, Dietz told me he'd had his eye on me for such a job, but didn't know if I had the necessary strength, ability, or willingness.

I soon found out what the ‘training' involved. It began with loading the recruit-me-with full pack drill, including a pup tent and a bag of ‘special tools for the desert' belonging to the DI.

A truck dropped the pair of us off in a remote part of the large Pendleton Marine base. The weather was good for November, not too hot, with clear blue skies. It was to be a ten mile march to the area where we would make an overnight camp. Sergeant Dietz looked cool and comfortable in a crisp clean uniform, regular backpack with weapons and spit shined boots. I was loaded down with my regular pack, weapons and supplies, a tent and a sleeping bag, and other duffel bags on top of that, but I was determined to show I could succeed and surmount the challenges. We set off down a narrow track.

Ten miles later I wasn't so sure I'd survive. But at last we reached the camp site, an area with large oak trees, surrounded by scrub and rocks, and the sound of running water.

"You can offload the fucking pack, Fortunato, and get to work. There are some metal tent pegs with a mallet in a small bag on top. I'll show you where I want them. Shit, get out of that uniform. Strip down to your briefs and boots. Get comfortable."

It felt good to be without the weight of the packs or the sweat drenched uniform. I set the pegs into the ground, as ordered. It seemed a strange shape for a tent-five feet across and six feet long, but I didn't argue. While I worked, the sergeant was relaxing, getting out of his shirt and shorts too. Maybe the worst of the assignment was over. Then my DI took off his Y-front briefs and gave me a first real look at the whole man. Strange, how I'd never noticed the total powerful physique before. Yes, tattooed biceps and strong thighs and legs with a sprinkling of blond hair had been very visible in the weeks of training, but the deep furred chest and flat abs had been mainly hidden under the uniform. Now a thick veined cock and low hanging balls drew my eyes as they gradually seemed to grow and fill with blood.

"Shuck those briefs, leatherneck, and get the fuck over here where I can see you."

The perspiration began to stream down my body as I moved over to my DI, but I drew myself up tall, proud of my own torso, proud of my Mediterranean heritage. It was dark hair that covered my chest and led to a treasure trail down past my flat stomach to my own large package with my slowly rising dick and balls. In my late teens, I'd begun as a bottom in my man-sex training and gradually moved over into being a Top. That frequently had been my role in my sex play in college, and I considered myself to be generally a Dominant, but this man was definitely in command and I began to feel myself being drawn back to my original position. Maybe I would be willing to obey some different kinds of orders from Dietz, if he was inclined that way. I'd been told these changes were not uncommon at my age, depending on the man involved and my hopes began to rise.

"Get the fuck up here, boy, and slowly turn around, so that I can see whether the fucking merchandise is worthwhile." That order was clear enough.

My DI flicked my now upright prick against my stomach, and then found the large brown nipples as I began to pant. There'd been no real form of release during the months of training, except for one-handed jerk offs at night in the dark of the barracks and certainly no man-to-man contact, such as my sergeant seemed to be offering. Dietz dug his nails into my nipples and I grunted in appreciation. The sergeant pulled me in closer by my tits, forcing my mouth open, and sliding his own tongue in to exchange saliva. I began to moan. My legs felt weak. It had been so long. I returned the kiss fiercely.

"Yes, I think I'm making a good choice. Turn the fuck around, boy, bend over and grab your ankles." I slowly obeyed, encouraged by a hard slap on my butt. I heard the other man spit and then a wet blunt finger slid into my hole. I jerked in surprise and excitement, as it moved around, and groaned in gratitude.

"Shit, you're very tight back there, leatherneck, but you've been fucked before, right?"

"Yes, Sir," I whispered. "But it's been a few years. Nowadays I'm the one doing the fucking."

Dietz laughed loudly. "I did wonder whether you were Dominant or submissive. And you certainly haven't seemed a fucking submissive type these last few weeks. Shit, that penis of yours is sticking out as thick and as proud as my own eight inches.

"Well, you'll have to adapt, as I'm your DI Master this weekend and you're going to be the fucking bitch for me. Still, I'm going to have to really stretch you to get my pole up there. Just remember the rules you were taught. Instant obedience to my commands, as always. No talking unless answering a direct question. Your safe word is your name and that will put an end to everything. So march over to your kit and bring that black duffel bag of mine here."

By now I was excited and confused, feeling the strength of this man, who was testing me. Strange, but the last time I'd been fucked, it had been by another Marine-an officer-and I had been just about nineteen years old. That had been one of the greatest events of my life, but what followed when I lost him had been the pits, so I blanked out that memory. Yes, I'd certainly need stretching. So I collected the small but heavy duffel and brought it over to my sergeant, who seemed to be promising a weekend of exciting sex. My cock twitched in anticipation and my ass twitched in concern for its ability to take a thick dick after all this time. It didn't matter. The choice was no longer mine anyway.

"Open the bag of tricks, boy. Look for the fucking lube. I think I put two butt-plugs in. Shit, let's try the bigger one and see whether your ass muscles remember how to accept it. Right, bend over again while I grease you up. You seem to be opening up well. I've got two fingers in you already and I'm going to try a third."

I was panting and groaning loudly. My hole was no longer used to this pressure anymore, but my cock seemed to love it, and was leaking pre-cum already. I felt the rubber plug moving up and down my ass cheeks and then finding its way into the entrance. My DI Master moved slowly, but firmly in sliding the plug into place. It took several minutes and much grunting and shuddering from me, but finally it was pushed home, and I was mounted with my ass muscles holding the intruder in place. Some skills are not easily forgotten.

"Good, I may get a real fuck out of you yet, boy. Now empty out the bag, and let's see what else I packed. You know what these are, fuckboy?"

I nodded as leather wrist and ankle restraints were both produced, followed by a heavy flogger and then a leather parachute harness with weights.

"Yeah, I think you'll have used these yourself on some other poor fuck-head. Well, time to experience them again on yourself. Give me your wrists and then we'll get the other fucking restraints round your boots."

Soon I was manacled, then my balls were slapped a few times and the parachute fastened around them, with a three pound weight attached - that I really felt as it dropped and swung. The final items out of the bag were two twenty-five foot lengths of rope neatly coiled.

"March over to those trees there with the ropes and let's get you stretched out. Oh, and you can hold the flogger handle between your teeth."

Dietz picked up my discarded briefs and strolled over to the sturdy oak trees. I grunted as the three pound weight bounced below my imprisoned balls. It wasn't hard to guess what was coming up and again I hoped I was strong enough to stand the test. The leatherneck recruit-me-stood docilely as my sergeant fastened one end of each length of rope to each of my leather wrist restraints, raised my arms to shoulder height, and walked over to the trees, that here grew closer together. In both cases, rope was wound tightly around the trunk and then brought back to the ankle restraint and tied off.

I was now fully stretched with arms out horizontally and legs wide. Finally my DI came over, kissed me hard again, took some of the pre-cum leaking from my fully risen cock, smeared it round and on my teeth, and then stuffed the briefs into my mouth, a thick and effective gag. I was shuddering with excitement and the desire for a hard thrashing, a pain not felt in a couple of years.

I didn't have long to wait. Dietz started gently enough, flicking the deer hide strands across my shoulders and between my legs to send the parachute and weight rocking. But he soon warmed up to his task, and this marine knew he was in the hands of a Master. The blows were hard and constant. They moved from my butt to my back, bringing a fiery glow to both areas, which were tender and now unused to such punishment.

My shoulders and ass cheeks were burning, as I twisted my body trying vainly to evade the lash. But gradually, through the pain, I realized that my torturer was deliberately not breaking the skin, so that the marks would fade quite rapidly. Also he would regularly check his boy to make sure I could endure more before adding further blows. Finally my DI Master seemed satisfied and stopped.

I hung there, silent, but breathing hard through the cotton briefs in my mouth. I'd forgotten this pain, this form of suffering. Recently, during the two years I was in college, I'd been the one who usually dished it out. Now I was again the recipient, as I had been as a beginner over two years before.

Then Dietz was back, with a tube of lube in his hand, and a condom gleaming on his hard, thick penis. He pulled my head back with one hand. "I think you know what comes next. Are you man enough to let me take you, to fuck you hard, and let you yell my name into the woods? Nod, if the answer is ‘yes', and we'll continue your initiation. Otherwise you can hang here for the rest of the day and night."

I nodded, trying to look him squarely in the eye. My DI Master chuckled, nodded in satisfaction and pulled the makeshift gag out of my mouth. "I'd hoped that would be the fucking answer. Yeah, I'm hoping you'll prove to be my kind of man, and, as a reward, you have permission to cum yourself. Let's get on with the fuck."

There was nothing really to say. It was a heavy test, a lesson for a generally proud Top in complete submission-and I knew this was probably not the end of it. But for this man, for this sergeant, for this Master, I was now thinking it might be well worth while. This initiation had to be endured and anything else my DI might want to do to my body and mind. I was still malleable material in my sex-play in those days.

Dietz was in front of me now, checking the ropes, forcing his tongue into my mouth and then dropping the wet briefs over my head like a hood. I felt the man slowly ease the rubber plug out of my hole, slide two, then three well-greased fingers into me, and I lurched forward slightly. And finally his rubbered and lubed penis was sliding up and down my ass cheeks, searching for my entrance, finding it and pushing its way in rapidly.

I gasped in pain and concern, afraid it was too much. Rough hands reached out and rubbed my nipples, bringing them to quivering erection. I drew myself up, roped and restrained, thrust out my butt and accepted the intruder.

My DI Master took his time. He was slow but he knew what he was doing. The cock gradually reopened the passage that had been empty for so long. There were shards of pain, as I expected, but the calloused hands caressed my now hard tits and then my thrusting cock. My ass muscles relaxed until finally the eight inch log was fully inside me and we both stood quietly for a moment, panting and sweating.

Then the fuck began in earnest. The dick began to slide out. My muscles contracted and I held it in. It began to move back up and I clenched both fists in their leather restraints and opened my passage. The game continued and began to speed up. I felt spasms of pleasure such as I'd remembered from my original training under Captain James. My DI Master's naked chest was warm behind me and his hands continued to excite me. We began to move together and our breathing quickened.

I fought to stand up straight, stretched out by the ropes, fought to make my muscles respond to the pole piercing my passage. I shuddered as my balls grew fuller and firmer within the parachute harness prison. I could feel my sergeant pistoning hard within me. I knew he must be reaching his climax. I accepted that I was the victim, the vessel, as suddenly the rubber-coated prick thrust even further. I knew my new Master was exploding deep inside me. Then my own cum was racing up my shaft and spurting out over my boots and onto the grassy ground, as I shuddered in the tight rope bondage.

I felt the other man slowly slide out of me, felt the briefs being taken off my marine-shaved head, felt the man pulling off the rubber, and finally felt its contents, the essence of my new Master, being poured over my stubble-hair and sliding down over my sweating face.

It was like being baptized again, for now I was a different man-back as a submissive again, a boy for this tough Marine sergeant who seemed to be selecting me as some kind of fuck-buddy. The ropes were finally undone and I rubbed fresh life into tired limbs.

Then on impulse this leatherneck turned around, knelt and kissed the still dripping head of my DI's dick. It was the ultimate act of humiliation. No, it was a Top's offer of submission to another Top, to a Master who was in command of me for this time. My new Dom drew me back up and embraced me fiercely, twisting nipples and kicking the weight between my legs.

Only fragments of the rest of the day remain with me. In the late afternoon I gathered kindling and wood for the fire pit that I was surprised to find there. This boy warmed the reconstituted stew and vegetables we had brought with us and accepted a share after Dietz had eaten. I unrolled the thick sleeping bag for my Master.

It was no real surprise when I was led to the space where I had hammered home the pegs earlier. The expected order came.

"Lie down on the rocky fucking ground, leatherneck. Place that well-flogged back against the small pebbles. Spread your rope restrained arms and legs wider. Wider, I said and I mean it. I'm going to secure you strong and firm to the pegs you kindly placed for me. Now you're in your fucking sleeping spot. Night, boy, get some rest."

I knew I wouldn't get much sleep. My body cramped. Night insects crawled over me. My cock grew heavy again, and my sore back rubbed against the stones as I tried to make myself comfortable.

This was all part of the submission, the initiation into the sexual world of Sergeant Morgan Dietz. By now I was determined to be part of it. I wasn't sure why or how my DI had achieved this reversal of my normal sexual role, at least temporarily. This leatherneck accepted it and knew only that he would be Dietz' sub as long as he wanted to use him.

I was surprised when the man threw a blanket over me during the night, and surprised when I woke up and the blanket was gone.

It was also a surprise later, when a naked but booted sergeant untied the ropes and told me to get up for the morning run. Painfully I stretched and staggered to my feet, trying to get the circulation flowing again. Naked except for boots, with the parachute and its weight still bouncing around my knees, I found myself running through the woods in the direction of the sound of water.

It was even a surprise when we reached the bank of the freshwater stream. I was ordered to take boots and socks off, and to take off those of my DI Master, and then we both jumped into the fast flowing water. First, this marine recruit washed his sergeant and then washed the dirt and the cum off himself. It was cold, but we played and kissed and splashed together. We shook most of the water off ourselves, put the boots back on and ran back to camp, both sets of balls bouncing and the extra weight still bumping below my sore genitals.

I had to pack everything back up, replace the gear in my sergeant's duffel bag, including the parachute harness and weight when they were taken off, and then clean up the site. As I struggled with my heavy packs, Sergeant Dietz came up to me. "I knew you had it in you, Dan. I've watched you over the weeks of training. I needed to prove that you have the right qualities for my new second in command. But you'll need to undergo the MP training course first. I'll have a final recruit intake to train about the same time here at Pendleton, so I'll probably wait to see whether you complete that course.

"I also needed to find out whether you could be my new fuck-boy as well. And you have proved me right all around. Congratulations, you'll be making MP Sergeant yourself one day, and, who knows, maybe you could still be my fuck-boy."

I struggled down to my knees and started licking my DI Master's now dusty boots. That was the ultimate submission to a sergeant I now wanted in my life to replace the captain who went MIA-missing in action-and to a man I felt a need to follow into whatever the uncertain future held for both of us. I guess I was still one mixed-up sex-puppy in those days, but I thought I needed the education Dietz could provide.

"Dan, Dan, you lazy fuckhead, are you asleep on that machine?" Suddenly I was back in the Hard Bodies gym in Palm Springs, looking into the familiar face of Morgan Dietz who was laughing at me, together with the young muscled guy he'd been training.

I stretched and chuckled too, as I switched off the treadmill. "No, you bastard, I was just remembering my time as a marine recruit with you as my DI. Not sure I could keep up that pace any longer, now that I'm only a private eye. That's my profession, by the way."

"Private investigator, eh. Well, you stayed in the same fucking line of business in a sense. Shit, there's only five or six years between us and you still look as good in that white wife beater as you did when I last saw you."

"And you don't look a day older, sergeant. Or maybe it isn't sergeant anymore?"

Dietz's face closed up slightly, but he still produced a smile. "No, I'm just a fucking civilian like you these days. I've also got my own business going here in Palm Springs in the sunshine, thank God. I'm training mixed martial arts fighters for the big cage events these days. Young Marco here is one of my best students."

"That's right. I can remember you practicing Taekwondo and karate-wasn't it? When we were in Afghanistan without too much else to do."

"You've got a good memory, Dan." Something flickered behind his eyes.

I felt a moment of tension, but also the need to say something. "I expect you still remember the rest of our time together as well as me, and we've let too many years go by."

"Indeed we have. We must catch up. Why don't you come see where we work out?"

"How about some coffee right now?"

"Sorry, young Marco here reminded me he's got a training session in my gym next before he goes off to work. We need to shower and get back. Tomorrow morning?"

I was curious about this young guy who seemed to get his way so easily with Dietz and decided I wanted to find out more.

"I can do that. Eight-thirty? Where?"

"So Dan keeps business hours does he these days? How about making it seven o'clock in the Sunshine Cafe just off Highway 111 in Cathedral City? Think you can find it, PI Fortunato?"

"Fuck, that's the crack of dawn."

"We start early in my business. Guys like Marco here want to train before going to work, like any gym."

"I get it. I think I can make an exception for you and be there. Good to meet you, Marco. I look forward to seeing you work out." The young guy looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then smiled. Had I met him before? Then Morgan was enveloping me in a strong bear hug and I felt a familiar tingle in my genitals. He laughed, ruffled my hair and they were off to the showers as I pulled on my jacket and went out to find my bike.

Funny how some things like relationships maybe don't really change.

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