Chapter 1

 

"I believe I have come to the right place..." said the handsome man seated opposite the mob boss.

Sheikh Ali Muhammad sat perfectly still as he looked across the enormous, glass-topped desk at the thin, cruel-faced man on the other side. Flanking the tall, elegantly dressed and very handsome sheikh was an enormous black bodyguard one side and a small dapper secretary on the other.

The expression on his face was inscrutable. Antonio Donati could not discern a single thing from it and that was unusual. He had come as far as he had with the Mob principally because of his ability to know what others were thinking-often before they thought of it.

He couldn't make out a thing from this enormously wealthy man, however. His introductions had been impeccable. He could be trusted and he could pay-dearly-for whatever it was he wanted. But what was it..?

That he had come here, to Brisbane in Australia of all places-and to him, Antonio Donati, a pretty minor figure in the world crime scene, didn't make much sense... Unless?

Unless it had something to do with his new enterprise. The one where he obtained boys-and had them tortured for the pleasure of wealthy but very kinky men... It was possible the sheikh had heard of this latest very lucrative sideline and wanted to see a boy put to torture...?

"It depends on what you require, Your Excellency...?"

"I want a slave."

Antonio kept his face perfectly still, the greasy smile fixed firmly in place but his mind was reeling. A slave! There were no slaves these days, surely?

His voice did not betray his astonishment, however: "Of course, Excellency. What sort of slave did you have in mind?"

"I want a boy. A very handsome boy with golden hair and blue eyes. He must be very muscular but not heavily built. I want him to be like an athlete, not a body-builder... You understand?"

"Of course..." Antonio glanced at his lieutenants, ranged either side of his desk. Their eyes were as inscrutable as those of their boss. They had no idea what this Arab sheikh was talking about but he was reputed to be fabulously wealthy and the boss had said he was to be accommodated at all costs.

"I also want him to be a virgin. I have means of establishing this-I do not want a boy who has sold his body on the streets..."

"Of course, Excellency. We shall do our best to find a range of such boys for you to choose from..."

"I understand you arrange little pleasantries to happen to your boys-for the pleasure of your clients...?"

Antonio nodded. So he had been right "Er, yes. We have arranged such things."

"Excellent. I wish to examine him covertly first and if I approve of your choice and agree to the purchase, I wish to witness his testicles being crushed, one after the other. The operation is to be performed with the boy totally conscious the whole time-if he faints, he is to be brought around and then the operation continued.

"When both balls have been crushed to a pulp, I will have my surgeon remove the remnants-and then his penis-I take it you can make a suitable room available for this operation?" He nodded when Antonio said it could be arranged... "He is then to be accommodated by you--with the surgeon in attendance. And when he is sufficiently recovered, he is to be delivered to a place on the coast-to be determined later-where my servants will collect him...

"Can you perform this service for me...?"

Antonio smiled. "Of course, Excellency. We will have a sampling of suitable boys ready for you-say one week from today?"

"That will be satisfactory. Now as to price. There will be no haggling. I will pay you half a million American dollars-in cash..."

Antonio's smile broadened just slightly. Yes, that would be satisfactory. Eminently satisfactory. He agreed to the sheik's terms and the man rose abruptly and left the room, followed closely by his bodyguard and secretary.

"Boss, you can't be serious? Where are we going to find boys like that?"

"On the streets, stupid. He said nothing about intelligence or education. All you have to do is find handsome and muscular young men, pick them up and take them to our "theatre". We'll keep them in the cells underground until next week and then we'll show them to the sheikh. We can dump those we don't keep for our own games and prepare the one he selects for his little pleasure."

The two lieutenants agreed it wouldn't be difficult and went out to set the wheels in motion. Not one of them had the slightest qualm about kidnapping the boys or even preparing the one selected to be subjected to this appallingly brutal and sadistic treatment. All had participated in the torture of the boys in the 'theatre' and all had derived considerable pleasure from the episodes. And anyway, business was business...

It didn't take very long and it wasn't difficult to find a half dozen boys who fitted the description...

There are literally hundreds of homeless young people on the streets of any large city these days and Brisbane is no exception. Faceless men with turned up collars and hats covering their features went about the dingier parts of the city, seeking out boys who roughly fitted the description, forcibly took them to a nearby dark alley and stripped and examined them. If they fitted the bill, they were given a quick shot in the arm which rendered them unconscious and were then transported to the 'theatre', in reality an old factory surrounded by high walls, steel gates and with an impregnable security system installed.

If they resisted, they were bludgeoned into compliance. If they were rejected, they were permitted to dress and then given a gentle tap on the head to remind them to keep their mouths shut.

In this manner, around fifteen boys were found and by the time they came around, each was in a cell in the basement of the old factory. Antonio had prepared this property very carefully before embarking on his new project. The building lent itself to his purposes and the basement particularly so. It had been divided into a series of small rooms used to store valuable parts used in the manufacturing process in times gone by. It was a simple matter to clean out the rubbish in the rooms-now become 'cells' and to fit spy-holes in the heavy wooden doors. The factory had been built very solidly and to support the heavy machinery above, the basement walls made very thick-the whole place-and the individual cells were virtually sound-proof.

He didn't want the boys talking to each other-not these ones and certainly not the boys he acquired for his monthly 'shows'. It was part of the fun for his clients that the boys had no idea why they were there until the very last moment. He didn't want a boy brought back to the cells to spill the beans prematurely.

 

Craig had fallen on hard times. He had come from an average home but his parents had split up and he had been lumbered with his mother. He would have preferred his father, even if he did spend most of his time with other women-many other women-but the court ruled otherwise. His mother took to drink and over the years, slowly degenerated to a slattern. He was not overly bright at school-about average-and as a result of the recession, could not find a job. Then, when his mother died - choked on her own vomit in her bed - he had been turfed summarily out of the house by the landlord and had thus arrived on the streets. By the time his eighteenth birthday came around he was sleeping in drains and under bridges and scavenging for his food and clothing.

And yet his face still bore a certain innocence. He had not yet fallen low enough to sell his body and he had kept away from drugs. The sort of food he ate-vegetable leftovers mostly-was far healthier than the fast-foods favoured by the more fortunate of his age-group. And his constant prowling around the city kept his body fit and hard.

He fitted the sheikh's prescription in other ways, too. His hair was a golden blond and very fine. When clean, it shimmered and shone. His eyes were a deep violet and his skin clear and smooth. His muscles were finely wrought and well defined and his body athletically shaped with a wedge-shaped torso and nicely curving thighs and calves.

His belly was flat and his buttocks small but boyishly prominent. His waist and hips were lean and his chest broad and muscular. His shoulders bulged with muscles and the trapezius muscles between them and his neck sloped up to it pleasingly. The muscles of his arms were well articulated-each group could easily be differentiated from its neighbour.

When he came to his senses he sat up and looked around him. A weak, yellowish bulb burned in a thick glass lamp recessed into the solid wooden ceiling above his head. The walls were grimy brick and the floor heavy flagstones. It measured about six feet by ten. There was no window and the close-fitting door looked heavy and impenetrable. There was not a stick of furniture in the room.

He climbed to his feet and moved unsteadily over to the door, banging on it and shouting out for someone to come. His blows made little sound-hardly even a thud-he knew no-one outside would even hear it, and his shouts merely echoed around the room. He was pretty sure no-one would hear them either. He prowled around the small cell looking for a chink, and alternately shouting out and then waiting, listening for a sound in reply. There was none.