Scott Sherman - First You Fall

Yep, it was Paul Harrington, al right.

He also was naked. Hmm, I thought absently, he real y does get better looking the more you see him.

I looked around. I was in a real, honest-to-goodness dungeon. The windowless wal s were padded with what I assumed was some kind of soundproofing material. Many had shackles hanging from them. There was a rack, stockades, and even a sling.

An open cabinet held a cache of chains, whips, and clamps. On a shelf was a col ection of dildos that ranged from dwarfish to Kong-like.

Welcome to Pervert’s Paradise.

I liked it better with the blindfold on.

Paul’s face looked fierce. His lips were tight and pul ed back into a menacing grimace. His nostrils flared with rage. His eyes were narrow and looked dead inside.

I thought he was unhinged when I met him at the bar, but just how crazy was he? Was this Stryker crap a pose or some kind of split personality?

Had he kil ed his father and those other men-the supposed suicides?

But why would he have had them leave their money to his brother?

And how had he control ed them?

Control.

That was the key.

I looked again at Paul’s eyes.

They weren’t dead, they were vacant. He wasn’t control ing anyone. Not even himself.

Oh Paul, I’m so sorry.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so calm. I was angry.

“Michael, you son of bitch! Your own brother! What have you done to him?”

From behind me, I heard muffled applause. Then the deep, sensuous voice of Michael Harrington.

“Wel done,” he said. He came around to face me.

Michael was the Dark Lord of Scary Sex. His tal muscular body was clad in skintight black leather lace-up pants tucked into black boots. He was shirtless except for a black leather vest. He wore matching gloves with studs along the back. His huge pectorals flexed with each breath. His handsome face wore a condescending smirk.

He reached up and pinched my nipples. Hard. I denied him the pleasure of crying out.

“I’m impressed,” he said. “I thought it would take you a lot longer than that to figure out what was happening. You’re a smart little faggot, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

Michael punched me in the gut. I saw it coming and relaxed into it, but it stil hurt. Michael wasn’t playing around.

“Unfortunately for you,” he said, “I happen to like hurting pretty little boys. You don’t want to make things worse for yourself by provoking me.”

I looked at Paul to see how he was reacting. Now that Michael was on the scene, Paul stood motionless, his face a blank slate.

Michael had every advantage in this situation. I had to play him right.

“I know you’re in control,” I said. “Look at what you’ve done with Paul.”

Michael laughed. “Oh, that? Paul has been mine since we were teenagers. Watch this.”

Michael turned to his brother. “Stryker: Wake up.”

Suddenly, Paul’s entire demeanor changed.

Awareness came back into his eyes. His body relaxed, then jerked even more upright. “What the hel — Michael who’s that?” He walked closer to me.

“Kevin? You’re naked.” He looked down. “I’m naked!

What the fu-.”

“Paul: Stryker’s back.”

Bam: Just like that, the light went off for little brother.

Once again, he stood alert but expressionless.

Michael spoke to him dismissively. “Now, just stand there and await your orders until you’re cal ed again.”

Things weren’t looking too good for me.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Michael winked at me. “It’s one of my favorite tricks.”

I figured my best bet was to keep him talking while I thought of a plan. “Who’s ‘Stryker?’” I asked.

“Oh that? Just a little alter ego I created for him when it worked to my advantage to have him rough someone up a little. It al ows him an excuse to let his anger out. You know what they say, every bottom wants to be a top, and every top wants to be a bottom.”

“Nice,” I said. “So, I guess it was you who sent Paul to talk with me at the bar the other day.”

“Oh no,” Michael said. “That was Paul working on his own. I didn’t approve of it at al. Of course, I had to punish him for that.”

He looked at Paul. “Stryker: Turn around.”

Paul pivoted. Rows of whip marks crisscrossed his lower back and his ass.

“I think he learned his lesson,” Michael said. “But the damage he did-tel ing you about me, wel, that’s damage I have to undo.”

He sighed. “Yes, I always have to clean up after my brother’s messes.”

“How are you doing this?” I asked Michael.

“Paul has always been my greatest achievement.

He’s the one who gave me my start, you might say.

“Even when we were kids, I knew he idolized me.

It didn’t take much encouragement to turn that into devotion. He would pretty much do whatever I said from the time he was twelve.

“But I wanted more. When I went to col ege, I sought out people who shared my… interests. First, it was just hypnosis. Standard stuff. I was good at it.

Soon, I was putting my classmates under. They thought it was just for fun, but they didn’t know that al the fun was mine.

“From my sophomore year on, I didn’t have a roommate who wasn’t under my control by October. I had boys who did my homework, boys who gave me their al owance. I had one boy who did my laundry every week for three years. He was trained to have an orgasm in his pants every time he handled my dirty boxer shorts.

“My only problem was keeping him from stealing them. That was a hard habit to break.

“And the girls-the girls! That’s where my true passion lies, you know. I had more pussy in col ege than the entire footbal team put together.”

“Classy,” I offered.

Michael leered at me. “Wel, you know what they say: Any slut in a storm.” He flicked a finger towards my dick and I jerked back. He chuckled, then continued.

“In my senior year, though, that’s when I real y took it up a notch. I had a psychology professor who had worked for the CIA in the sixties. I did some research on him, and it turned out he was working on mind control experiments.”

Michael started rubbing my chest and shoulders.

His touch was gentle.

“Can you see why I believe I’m doing the Lord’s work? What are the odds that, given my talents, I’d meet such a gifted mentor? It was meant to be.

“He taught me techniques that weren’t documented anywhere. Of course, in exchange, I had to let him blow me every once in awhile. Yes, he was another little faggot.” Michael gave me a surprised look. “There sure are a lot of you.”

Michael’s hand moved lower. He traced slow circles over my stomach.

“We’re such simple beings. Al of us driven by the desires to seek out pleasure and to avoid pain.

Professor Standler taught me al about using those most basic of human drives to get even more control. To train people to condition themselves for you.”

Michael’s hand gently cupped my bal s.

“Pleasure.” He squeezed. “Pain.”

I doubled over as much as my restraints would al ow. That one hurt.

He laughed. “It’s so simple!”

He went over to the cabinet and took out a black box.

“Of course, over the years, it’s gotten even simpler.” He pul ed out a long syringe.

“Better living through chemistry,” he beamed. “An hour from now, you’l be no worry to me at al.”

“You can’t kil me. Too many people know I’m onto you.”

“Oh, I don’t need to kil you,” Michael said. “I’m thinking I’l keep you around. For fun.” He smacked my ass again. “Control ing boys like you is my definition of fun.”

“You can’t hypnotize someone against their wil,” I said.