are. I wonder if the neighbors heard nothing—or if they heard and did nothing. If they can hear you, maybe they’ll just think it’s business as usual in here."

Hank had obviously had enough of this, so I stopped, wiped his billy club off on the edge of the bedspread and sheathed it back on his equipment belt.

"But I want you to fuck me now, Lance. No more of this dildo shit. Get that big prick inside me."

"OK, sure," I said. "But I was kind off wondering what our perp might have down in the basement that the forensics team was so interested in checking out." I, of course, knew precisely what was in the basement awaiting us.

I looked around and found some leg shackles and exchanged these for the leg spreader, clamping them at his ankles. I released his wrists from the wall restraints but quickly had him locked up again with my own handcuffs. I shuffled him through the house and down the basement stairs, and, I quite enjoyed Hank’s excitement when we found a black-painted, padded-walled room with a sling on chains hanging from the ceiling in the middle.

I pulled Hank’s shirt off his back as I pushed his butt down into the center of the sling. He didn’t fight me as I uncuffed his wrists and recuffed them high on the suspending chains running up on either side of his torso and then unshackled his ankles and cuffed those up high on the two suspending chains running up on either side of his butt.

I unpopped the gag then and let him talk—and grunt and pant and moan—me through what he liked and what he really liked—and what sent him over the moon. It turns out he liked ten minutes of tonguing his asshole and fifteen minutes of fingering and nearly fisting his asshole. And he really liked throwing his head back and sucking me off while I pinched his nipples. He also really liked thirty minutes of my cock churning inside him with a string of beads I’d found nearby attached to the silver ring piercing the head of my cock combined with what my hands were doing on his torso and with his dick and balls. But what sent him howling over the moon was the twenty minutes of deep fucking with the electrified cock sheath and extender I’d found that made my cock thicker and longer—and more highly charged—then the dildo had been.

During the two hours we spent in that basement room, we each came two more times and Hank admitted that this session had far surpassed what he had been expecting.

In the time we had left, I smoked a cigarette and tossed off some of the perp’s scotch while Hank moved around in the nude, cleaning up after our use of the facilities. When he’d finish, I slammed him down on his back on the kitchen table and scrambled up and crouched on top of his chest, my knees pinning his arms against his sides. I forced him to suck me off one last time, with me bobbing his head back and forth on my cock with my fingers buried in his hair and brutally fucking his mouth and throat. He seemed to enjoy that as much as anything that had gone before and gushed over with the regret that we couldn’t have access to the toys in this devil’s den any more.

I assured him that we’d have plenty of opportunity to explore our fetishes and