Graeme Mayes is working his summer job at the grocery store to pay for his school year expenses, oblivious to the man who's been watching him for some time.
Avery Wilson has been watching Graeme for weeks, stalking him to his home, his work, his friends. He's seen the boy naked, he's seen the boy fucking, he's seen the boy sleeping, eating, studying and everything in between. He's gotten to know the boy so intimately that he thinks of him as Graeme, or Gray.
Graeme smiles at the distinguished looking older gentleman who is a frequent shopper at his store as he bags the man's purchases; friendly, but nothing more. He certainly doesn't notice any unusual attention.
"Would you mind helping me carry these to my car?" Avery asks, smiling at the young man affectionately.
"Of course, Mr. Wilson," Graeme says, gathering the bags so his hands are full, and he's...rather helpless.
"Thank you so much." he smiled, walking the boy out to his van. When Graeme bent in to put the bags inside, he wrapped his arm around the boy's neck, putting a kerchief covered in chloroform over Gray's mouth, holding him still with his other arm. Once Gray collapsed, he pushed him to the van, putting the groceries next to him calmly and getting into the van, driving off.
Graeme struggles feebly, but is taken by surprise and overwhelmed by the man's practiced strength and the chemical.
***
Graeme comes to, unsure how much time has passed or where he is. He looks around, groggily, and realizes he's in a large, comfortable bed in a well-furnished room. He tries to rub his aching head, only to find that his wrists are bound with soft but tough leather restraints. He moans with horror and sits up, seeing that his ankles are also bound.
Mr Wilson is sitting on a chair near the bed and smiles at him over a book. "Good, you're awake. How are you feeling, Gray? Are you going to be sick?"
Graeme turns towards the voice, eyes wide with surprise as he sees who it is. "M-Mr. Wilson? What are you doing here?" he asks, groggily. "My name isn't Gray..."
"You're in my house. Are you going to be ill?" he said slowly.
"...did you find me?" he asks, trying to make sense of the situation. "I...I don't think so," he says, laying down again. "Did I fall? I don't remember..."
"I took you." he explained, putting his book away and taking off his reading glasses, folding them on top of his book.
"...what do you mean, you took me?" the terrified boy asks. "Please, Mr. Wilson...I think there's been a mistake...it's me, Graeme. I...I think you should just take me back..."
Avery stood, dusting off his pants before undoing the straps connecting Graeme's wrist and ankle cuffs to the bed. He helped Graeme up, guiding him to the bathroom.
Graeme stumbles along after his captor silently, his stomach churning unpleasantly as he stands and walks, distracting him.
The older man guides him to the toilet, letting him kneel in front of it. He starts to run a bath in a large clawfoot tub.
The boy bows his head over the toilet, fighting his nausea. Finally, he lays his cheek on the seat, enjoying the cool porcelain and the stillness.
After the bath is done running, Avery bodily lifts Gray into the tub, leather cuffs and all.
The college student is fairly passive during this, still feeling quite ill and not sure what to do. Once he's in the tub, he tries speaking to his captor again. "Please, Mr. Wilson...whatever's going on, it's not too late...you can let me go now, you haven't done anything."
"Why would I let you go, Gray?" he chuckled, adding some soap to a loofah and starting to scrub the boy down.
"Please...Mr. Wilson, sir...My name isn't Gray. It's Graeme. You've known me...well, come to my store...for a few years now." He allows himself to be scrubbed, trying to stay calm and reasonable.
Avery ignores him now, finishing up his scrubbing and pouring a jug full of water over Graeme to rinse him off. He washes the young man's hair gently, massaging his scalp.
Graeme frowns and is quiet for the time being, seeing that it's not really getting him anywhere. He lets himself be cleaned and desperately tries to think what to do next.
Once Graeme is clean, Avery helps him out of the tub, drying him off. He puts Graeme back in bed, tying him up and leaving. Graeme can hear him puttering about in the other room.
Graeme panics as he's tied up and left. He hurls himself against the binding and starts screaming for help as loudly as he can.
He screams uninterrupted until Avery comes back, shushing him and bringing a tray of food. "No one can hear you. And don't hurt yourself."
"Let me go!" Graeme screams, tears running down his face. "Please! I've never done anything to you!"
"Shh, you're fine. I haven't done anything to you either." he chuckled, forcing Graeme's mouth open and putting in a little sliver of what tasted like steak.
"Please let me go..." Graeme says, much more quietly. He chews the meat, figuring he may as well save his strength while he can. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson," he says.
"You're welcome, Gray." he strokes the boy's soft hair, feeding him meat and a few other delicious tidbits.
Graeme smiles nervously, eating and trying not to panic again. "It's good," he says, relaxing a little.
"Good, I cooked it myself." he smiled. He stood Graeme up again, this time leading him outside.
Graeme follows a little more eagerly this time--the food made him feel better, and he wants to see what his surroundings are like. He leans on Mr. Wilson to make himself seem weaker than he is.
Avery lived on a farm. Graeme couldn't even see another building besides the barn and the house. He forces Graeme down on his knees, pulling out a thin leather case and unfolding it to reveal a straight razor.
Graeme's eyes go wide with panic and he attempts to stand, falling on his side and staring up in horror at the shiny instrument.
Avery pulled Graeme's head back by his hair and sliced through a wavy handful of the boy's hair.
Graeme cries out, then goes limp with relief when he realizes only his hair is being cut. He's crying again without realizing it.
Avery cuts Graeme's hair short, then goes over it again, making it so close to his head that he's nearly bald and only has a dark fuzz over his head. He puts away his razor after wiping it on his sleeve, lifting Graeme to his feet.
Graeme stands, looking at his captor with wide, terrified, reddened eyes.
Avery just smiles at him, leading him into the barn. Oddly, there's no roof on the structure, it's just four walls. In the center there's an enormous fire pit and a long metal spit. There's something that looks like a vaulting horse near the entrance and Avery leads his captive there.
Graeme isn't overly concerned by the pit or the spit--Mr. Wilson has always bought plenty of meat. He glances up at the sky, noticing that several hours have passed since he was kidnapped from the grocery store. He allows himself to be led, not sure what else to do.
Avery hoists Graeme up onto the horse, clipping both his cuffs into place. Now Graeme's naked body is stretched out in a straight line, his legs down and out of the way, his arms out in front and his chin flat on the horse. Mr Wilson goes to fetch the spit.
Graeme blushes, assuming that this is all some sort of kinky sex thing. "Um...Mr. Wilson? Can I go now, please?"
He feels a lubed object pushing against his anus and suddenly he was being penetrated by the spit.
Graeme screams as the lubed, but larger than a cock, object is forced into his tight opening. "Please! Please stop! It hurts!"
"Relax and it will hurt less." Avery said soothingly, stroking Graeme's pale backside as he slid the long pole further in.
"Please! What are you doing?!" the boy screams, struggling as much as he can--which isn't much. "Please, god, stop! It hurts!"
He can feel Avery using all of his strength to slide the pole further into the reluctant and tight hole. The feeling is getting more and more uncomfortable until he feels something inside him give way to the pointed tip of the spit.
The boy shudders violently and waits to die, and is shocked to find he's still alive. "Please..." he gasps, "please, what are you doing?"
"You're going to be as delicious as the boy I fed you earlier." Avery smiled, forcing the pole deeper. He's not sure if he's imagining it sliding through his abdomen and chest.
Graeme gasps, horrified. "You...what?" To his utter dismay, he realizes his cock is hard, and he squirms harder. "Stop. I don't want to die!"
"You won't die, not for a few hours." he assured him. Graeme feels his gag reflex starting to react.
"I don't---" he starts to say, gasping as he feels something filling his throat. He shuts his eyes tightly, trying not to think about what it could be.
The spit slides out of his mouth and Avery smiles the smile of someone who's just had amazing sex. He lifts Graeme fairly easily, sliding the spit into it's holder.
Graeme, completely spitted, wriggles as much as he can, his eyes wide with mute horror.
The fire beneath him is already blazingly hot and he feels like he's getting a sunburn. Avery starts to turn the spit with a little handle. He takes a large turkey baster, squirting a cool concoction of spices and butter over Graeme's body.
Graeme makes little moaning noises around the spit, moving as much as he can to get away from the flames, tears rolling down his face. His cock is still hard. At first the cool spray is refreshing, until he realizes what it is, as he's slowly revolved.
He starts to lose track of time, but he is basted regularly. The pain increases dramatically, then dies down as he starts to numb. He hardly feels the knife slide into his thigh as Avery checks his meat.
Graeme had been mostly unconscious, but the sensation of the knife rouses him a little, though he's not sure what it is. He makes as much noise as he can, precum starting to dribble from his browning cock.
His cock gets the same treatment, the blade gently slicing away to look at the color of the meat under the skin.
Graeme comes, the spent energy making him lapse into unconsciousness again, for the last time.
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