baals | (no subject)

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Hiding on Earth turned out to be quite the productive endeavor for Ba'al. He fit in absurdly easily in the world of business. While expanding into the business world he likewise expanded into the criminal world.

In the business world he's known as Hannibal Hadad. His holdings, which started in an areo-space company, expanded into real-estate, construction and string of electronics retailers.

In the criminal world he's known as simply The Boss. His criminal network, stretches into the usual suspects of guns, drugs and smuggling.

Spread across both the business and the criminal side are oddities. On their own, they just seem strange. Together, something big is being built. Something high tech. It could be anything from missiles to fighter jets. Whatever it is he's taking great pains that the government and the larger criminal underworld don't know what he's doing.

Seeing as he's making an effort to hid it. He shouldn't let the recently hired undercover FBI agent anywhere near himself or anything important. He could just feed him false leads down the chain. But... quite frankly, he's bored.

After a couple months, he calls him to his office. Enough time passed to not be suspicious and give Mike time to make a reasonable impression.

Ba'al's office is a modern minimalist style. All clean lines and simple shapes. No unnecessary furniture. As for himself, he's always wearing some designer suit or another. He's standing and looking over some papers on his desk when Mike enters. The papers are Mike's personnel file.

"Ah, yes. It's good to finally meet you. Michael, is it? Or Mike?" He holds out a hand to shake, which he won't last too long or too briefly. "You've been doing excellent work under Johnathan."

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Mike can't help the nervous laugh that erupts out of him. He'd never had someone admit to something like that so freely, and certainly not while on a case. Paige had to deal with it more than anyone else, since he was fairly certain anyone who made a pass at Charlie would lose their most sensitive parts to her knee. Though he doubted either of them would be sitting naked in a bunker holding an ice pack to their crotch.

"I try to make a habit of not sleeping with my boss," he said before any of those strange thoughts could root itself enough to consider. This was another game, he told himself. It had to be. Messing with him or testing him.

"I could fire you," Ba'al offers as an apparent joke. "I could just take you now. It would be easy." The dark look is back but he makes no move to act on it. "I could but I'm not."

Now, he does approach him, in the same casual manner he does everything. He stops a good four feet away and crouches. "I chose you because you're intelligent. Far more intelligent than you seem. I understood that it would eventually lead you to find out more than you should and it has. You merely found out sooner than anticipated. That puts us in a very delicate position." He sighs and stands back up. "I am not certain you can be trusted but I do not wish to kill you permanently. So, here we are." He crosses his arms and wanders back to the office area. "I've given myself three days to make the decision."

That threat made Mike's blood run cold. He was trained to handle a wide array of assault situations. But not sexual. And especially not when he had a seemingly incurable erection. Then again, he doubted even Quantico had a plan for something like that. At the mention of not killing him permanently, his gaze flit to the sarcophagus. How many more times would they go through this?

"And I'm guessing that if I let you do whatever you wanted with me, you'd trust me a lot more." It was getting harder and harder hold on to his cover. He wanted to make it sound like a joke, but too much tension made it's way into his voice.

"No, I would trust you far less than I do now." His tone and eyes are quite serious. "But I am willing to give you a little hint."

He idly picks up the syringe, looking it over and having no apparent plans for it. "Answer my questions truthfully. Not what you believe I want to hear. Hide nothing from me or I will dig the the answers out of you."

"I'll start simple. Why did you join the company?"

A cold sweat breaks out on Mike's skin seeing the syringe. He didn't believe for an instant that it was any sort of cure anymore. It could be anything, but there were rumors about things like truth serums out there. He'd assumed they were mere urban legends, but if the man had a box that brought people back from the dead, nothing was off the table.

He hesitated for a moment, trying to remember his cover story. "I um...thought it would give me a leg up. Once I'd learned enough I could start my own company. Use what I learned and either partner with you or buy you out." It came out in a rush. Made up on the spot, but it sounded believable.

It did sound almost believable. Ba'al flashes a quick smile. He slowly moves back toward Mike. "That would be lovely, if true." he says with amusement.

It turns out, he is a lot faster and stronger than he looks. He closes the gap between them grabs Mike's throat in a vice-like grip. He has strength enough to easily pull Mike to his feet by his neck alone. His other hand, brings the syringe down in his shoulder.

"The truth, please." He had been choking him but he relaxes his grip enough that Mike should be able to get words out.

Any attempt at dignity was lost the moment those fingers caught his throat. He dropped the ice pack and shirt the moment the man moved. Working on instinct, he was already throwing his hand against Hadad's wrist. Had the man been merely a business man, there was enough strength behind it to deflect the grasp. But Mike is severely outmatched and before he can even fully process that the blow hadn't worked, he's on his feet struggling to breathe. He beats at the arm holding him, trying to kick him. He barely even registers the needle in his shoulder.

"We all have secrets," he wheezed out, scrambling for details. He seized on a detail Hadad had teased him with earlier. "...debts..." he managed. "Needed to pay...gambling..." He was forming a tale of setting up to take money from the company to pay of astronomical debts.

Mike is pushed up against the wall after he answers. Ba'al is amused by his response and looks like he's about to laugh. "Debts. Really?" He doesn't sound convinced. His grip remains just loose enough that Mike can still plead his case.

Meanwhile, the other drug would start taking effect. The agonizing pressure starts ebbing away at the expense of a soft and leaking cock. Ba'al glances down, smirking when he sees the drug has taken effect. "You're making quite the mess."

For the moment, the sudden change in his erection was a relief. He was too focused on the had on his throat to recall the downside to the injection. He didn't seem to notice as cum dripped down his thigh, either. Staying alive was slightly more important.

"Yes!" He blurted out, trying to scrape his story together in his head. "I was getting close to you...to make it look like it came from you..." He was trying to pull the man's arm away, the muscles and tendons in his forearms standing out as he strained. "I needed five hundred thousand...but I was gonna try for double." There was a frantic, fearful edge to his words. As if it were the worst possible thing he could admit.

It's not a terrible story, if he didn't already know who Mike really was, he might've been convinced. "An interesting story." Ba'al's hand tightens on Mike's throat. "Let's see if it's true." He's not being terribly careful about choking him. He loses nothing if he dies.

His other hand comes up to pry one of Mike's hands off. He immediately pins that arm against the wall. Once he's sure he has a firm grip of his wrist, he releases Mike's throat. Then he moves to pin his other arm. He's moved in close enough that any attempts at kicking him wouldn't land.

No man should be that strong. Mike fights him every inch of the way, but he loses out far too quickly. Had the box or the drug weakened him? It had to be something because Hadad was way stronger than should have been possible. Was it the lack of oxygen?

He sucked in a deep breath that immediately got him coughing when the had left his throat. He struggled against the hands pinning him, but it was futile. "How?!" His voice cracked, not needing to feign his frantic fear. "It's not exactly the kind of debt that's going to show up on a record. What do you want? The name and number of the guy who's gonna take out my kneecaps if I don't get him his money?!"

"It would help, yes." He seems completely serious. "I can easily pay them off or just... get rid of them."

He seems to relax though his grip still remains inhumanly strong. He shifts to brush against Mike's softened dick. It's important to him that Mike realizes how sensitive he still is even if that means getting cum all over his nice pants.

Mike is about to spit out a name when that leg brushes against him and he gasps. He can feel the moan trying to get out, but he clamps down on it. But there's no hiding the shudder as it passes through him. This was wrong. So wrong. And he was in way over his head. There was only one person who could get him out of this.

"Rossi," he blurted out. "The guy's name is Rossi. But he's not the sort of guy you can just call up out of the blue. But if you call--" he rattled off the first number he could think of. If he had it right, it would be one of Briggs' mission phones. "He doesn't answer, he calls you back."

Ba'al gives himself a small indulgence of grinding into him. Letting him feel the outline of his own rock hard dick, push against his overly sensitive flaccid one. "What that so hard?" referring to giving him the name but also making a jab at Mike's situation.

He releases his grip on his wrists but does not move for a long moment. He finally pushes off from the wall and gives Mike his space. "I'll contact him. Perhaps we'll pay him a visit together." And then, just like that, he's back to ignoring Mike. He makes the call. He changes into a new pair of pants and tosses aside the old pair with a look of disgust.

When the call comes, he can be heard setting up a meeting. It sounds like they'll meet at one of his many side businesses. Public enough to be considered neutral ground and low profile enough to not attract attention. The meet is set for tomorrow afternoon.

Mike can't help the sound he lets out at the pressure. At the feeling of how aroused the man was. It wasn't a moan, but closer to a whine. A strained sound of distress forced out between clenched teeth as his eyes turned toward the ceiling. Color tinged his cheeks, humiliation sinking in deep.

He wasn't going to get out of this unscathed. Not with how the man lingers there, pressing into him. Mike seemed about to say something, several times. But he opted for silence, just waiting for Hadad to move.

It's a miracle he doesn't collapse to his knees the instant he's free. He manages to bend down, picking up the dropped shirt, using it first to clean up the mess he'd made on himself, and then to cover himself. But it didn't help. He was still leaking. That was more embarrassing than the raging erection. At least that he could hide. This...just settling the shirt over himself was almost too much sensation to bear.

In the time it took to get the call, Mike didn't move much. Every minute spent trying to figure out how Briggs would react. He'd know Mike would be in trouble, wouldn't he? He'd missed a check in. By how much, though? He didn't know how long he'd been in that box. If it was still the same night, Briggs might not have even noticed he was late on check in. He'd know the phone was dead, though. Maybe. Would he know to play a cover? To bail Mike out? He would have to. He knew Hadad.

When the meeting was set, Mike had a hard time masking his relief. Tomorrow afternoon. He just needed to survive the night. Then he could get out of this mess.

Survive.

He eyed the sarcophagus. Survival took on a whole new meaning when the man who held him had the power to heal and revive.

Something else very disconcerting about leaking is it doesn't stop. At best, the flow slows to a few drops every minute or so. At worst, it's a steady flow that gets everywhere. Of course, Mike could always stop the flow with by pinching his dick, if he could stand the sensation, but if he does that pressure will steadily build as strongly as it did when he had the erection. If that's something he hasn't figured out yet, Ba'al had planned on showing him.

Ba'al will seem like he intends to leave Mike alone. Eventually, he'll unlock one of the cabinets take out a strange curved object. At first glance, it could be a sex toy, it has a tight s shape to it with a very clear head end. He presses a button on the side of it that makes it unfold into a larger S shape. The end of it flairs open which just makes it look even more like a dick.

His attention settles back on Mike and he smiles. While what he holds is actually a weapon, he knows full-well what it looks like. He'll enjoy seeing him trying to process what he is.

All of these things Mike realizes, much to his dismay. The leaking doesn't stop and he tries to arrange the shirt so he's not making a mess everywhere. But trying to wrap the shirt over his dick just seems to make everything worse. How could that much even come out of him? He tries getting the shirt as free of folds as possible and holding it snug to the end. That's a bad plan, as well. How is he still so damn sensitive? His fingers aren't quite as rough, trying to stem the flow with pressure alone. But the pressure starts building inside. At one point he tries to just hold out against the feeling, both hands gripping his cock. With grit teeth and eyes shut, he tries to will it away. But like holding his hand to something hot, eventually his body took over and forced his hands away. The cum spurted out into the shirt, and he slumped against the wall with a twisted look of defeat.

He was resolved to simply stay there until it stopped when he heard the cabinet open. He lifted his head, if merely out of curiosity. He goes tense the instant he sees the thing, assuming Hadad intends to put it inside him. But when he presses the button, he's not so sure anymore. It could be anything. Something he couldn't even fathom.

Momentarily forgetting his embarrassing problem, he scrambles to his feet, his hands outstretched. Ready to fight or defend, he wasn't sure. He knows now just what that smile means, and he's going to be ready for whatever Hadad tries.

It actually had been getting a little difficult for Ba'al to control himself when hears Mike trying to stop the flow. It may have been a contributing factor in what he wants to do.

He raises the s shaped thing and fires. A lightning bolt-like beam hits Mike. It's effects are similar to a stun gun. Normally, it would not a person out completely with one shot but Ba'al modified this one to be more entertaining. If Mike does black out, it won't be for more than ten minutes. The weapon has an almost paralyzing effect as a continuous low level shock stays within the body. Where a stun gun would be strongest at the connection point, this weapon gives an even shock and even pain through out the body.

Ba'al starts to work immediately. Mike is hauled over to the desk where Ba'al starts wrapping rope around him. He starts with his hands and arms, securing them tightly we a complex series of knots and loops. He flips him over and tightly weaves rope across Mike's chest. He takes special care to make sure each nipple is squeezed between a pair of tight ropes. When he reaches his hips, he knots a cluster of ropes and runs it between his legs. He pushes Mike's soft dick and balls between the ropes so the knot will end up pushing into him right behind his balls. Another knot is added to press right on top of his asshole. The whole thing is tightened so that any struggling will just dig the ropes and knots in deeper. Finally he begins securing his legs, each leg bound tightly to itself but not together. The final touch begins when he loops the ropes over a hook on the ceiling.

The end result would leave Mike suspended face down over the desk. With a good two feet between him and the desk. Ba'al waits for Mike to come around completely from the shock of the weapon. No longer paralyzed but now unable to move in a different way. Once he's sure Mike is fully conscious he grabs his chin and forces his head up. "Now, if what you said of debts is true. I will eliminate them and own you. You may return to your normal life but work only for me. I'll even throw in a raise."

His grip tightens and his tone darkens "But if you are lying to me. This is but a preview of what I'll do with you. So you may understand the consequences."

The shock was not something Mike expected. Part of his training had been to prepare him for a standard stun gun. Not a pleasant experience. But this was different. His entire body went rigid and he almost immediately fell unconscious. He didn't have time for the fear to hit. That came later, as he woke up. The first thing he was aware of were the ropes digging at his most tender areas. With the pressure of his own weight added to the knots, it was almost too much to bear.

He tried to pull free, fighting the ropes. But all he could do was uselessly move his legs, making himself swing slightly, which in turn made the ropes around his body rub against him. A desperate sound, somewhere between a moan and a whine escaped him. It didn't help that he could do nothing about the way he leaked. Slowly dripping onto the desk.

The man's words, however, made all of that the least of his problems. He had the gut feeling that even if he maintained his cover over the next few days, not even the FBI could save him. They could extract him from the mission. Relocate him across the country. And this man would still find him. And that was the best case scenario. The threat was just for lying. He doubted revival was in his future if the truth were found out.

"You don't have to do this!" his voice cracked with desperation. "I'll find another way to pay it off!"

The best he could hope for was Briggs not showing. Let Mike take the fall for this, and no one else will get hurt.

Ba'al casually fishes a ball of twine from one of the desk drawers. He pulls a few yards from it then cuts it.

"No, I want to do this. You forfeited any other options when you came to work for me." said as he creates a small lasso with the twine. He makes sure Mike can see what he's doing. He loops the lasso over his still leaky dick and balls then he tightens it. Once he's satisfied he begins wrapping more of the twine around him. Every loop is tight and meant to keep the steady flow of cum at bay. He winds it several times around the base of his balls, making sure it's extra tight. He pauses to lightly rub some of the coarse twine over his softened cock head.

"Consider this a learning experience... on the value of truth." His other hand comes up to stroke lightly at at Mike's side.

The horror in Mike's eyes in undeniable. It starts the moment he sees the twine and grows the more the man speaks and works. The moment that rough string touches him, he cries out.

"No! Don't--" He cuts off with a strangled sound as the loop tightens. Several sounds force out between clenched teeth as Hadad works. It would have been a relief when the dripping finally stopped, but he could still feel it building up behind the pressure of the coils around him.

He tries to get away from those cruel hands before the string can be secured. Squirming and twisting against the ropes. If he were on the floor he'd have a better chance, but suspended like this he had no leverage. Ever movement made it worse. All he could do was hope that the twine remained just on his cock, and not some how added to problem of the ropes that rubbed at him every time he moved.

The touch of those rough fibers on the head made him cry out. "Please! I've...I've learned. I know. I won't ever lie to you again!" He sounded as though he were on the brink of sobbing.

Ba'al lets out an amused chuckle and just grinds the coarse twine further. "You will have learned when I decide you have and you have not." He weaves the remainder of the twine tightly around his soft dick. The last bit he run tightly across the head and right over the hole there. Another level of resistance for the build up to push past.

"Honesty will be rewarded," Ba'al says in a strangely soft voice. "But first you'll learn of punishment." He steps away to get something from out of view. He returns to slide a large glass measuring cup onto the desk. He centers it right about where the cum will drip. "When this is filled, I will grant you relief."

He takes a seat at the desk and just watches. Though he occasionally reaches up to cup his swollen balls and give them an encouraging squeeze.

Edited 2018-09-02 03:03 (UTC)

With each new twist of the twine, Mike let out a small sound of protest. He couldn't help it. He was so sensitive, he could feel each individual fiber scratching at him. The loudest tore out of him as that one strand settled over the tip. His chest heaved against the ropes, making his nipples rub harder. He gave another valiant fight, trying to wrench himself free of the ropes, but he only managed to chafe himself.

Pure horror spread across Mike's face, color draining from it. Even if he weren't all stopped up by twine squeezing him shut from all angles, filling that thing up would take hours. How was he supposed to even get a drop out? Even if he could feel that pressure building with every passing moment.

"No! Please! I'll do anything, just...please. I've learned! I swear!"

His begging didn't last long, finding it difficult to keep talking with the way the ropes pressed into his chest. He thought the pressure was going to tear him apart from inside. But before that first touch, it built up enough to push past the several stages of twine. Only when it burst out, it met that final gate and spread in several directions. Only about half of it landed in the cup, the rest splattering on the desk. Perhaps most humiliation of all was that there was no orgasm with it, nothing but the constant leaking finally bursting out.

The periodic fondling didn't help matters. The pressure or the humiliation. But at least after that first little explosion, they happened a bit faster. Not nearly fast enough to fill the cup in any decent amount of time. Here and there, he'd try begging again. Strained offers to prove himself.

"Such a mess," Ba'al scolds, already making plans for Mike to clean up every last drop. Most of the time, he makes sounds of disgust when the cum splatters outside the cup. And then some of it misses so badly it splatters onto Ba'al's shirt. He looks very displeased and gets up. His shirt is pulled off and discarded but he doesn't put on a new one. He opts to stay shirtless.

At the next burst of cum, Ba'al gathers the majority of it in his hand before it can even get near the cup. He pulls Mike's head back by the hair with his other hand then clamps the cum filled one over his mouth. "Swallow," he fully intends to hold his hand there to force him to. He keeps his hand there, mostly because he's tired of hearing him beg. "You will clean all of this up," Ba'al breathes into his ear. "Every last drop."

When the cup is nearly full, Ba'al releases his mouth. One hand tightly squeezes around Mike's balls while his other pulls and toys with his soft dick. He rolls it between his finger, grinding the twine into his flesh. The whole time, he's making sure the next load goes anywhere but the cup. He's more than a little tempted to get some on himself and forcing Mike to clean it up but Mike hasn't yet earned the right to touch him.

Letting out a muffled protest, Mike tries to pull away from the hand. He tries to keep himself from swallowing. But with how much he salivates in response to the salty substance on his lips and tongue, he can't help but to comply. He also can't help the look of fierce defiance he levels at the man. This went well beyond even a psychopath's treatment of a subordinate. Not for the first time, he dreaded that Hadad already knew the truth.

"You're a--" But whatever insult he'd intended to sling at the man was cut off with a sharp cry as his balls were squeezed. He wasn't just sensitive, he didn't just ache anymore. With all of that pressure and the irritation of the twine, it may as well have been a blow from a hammer. And that was mild compared to the handling of his cock. He fought to keep himself quiet, but he was yelling and sobbing after a few moments, tears leaking from his eyes. He tried to beg for it to stop, but each new touch ended it before he could get a full word out.