Date: 2017-10-04 04:00:00+00:00
Publisher: Encompass Ink

Leather Head

Matt Converse

Published by Encompass Ink

This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Leather Head

Copyright © 2017 by Matt Converse

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are
either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Artist: Rue Volley

Edited by: Elizabeth A. Lance

EAL Editing Services

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means without written permission of the author.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my little brother Jack. Even though this book isn’t exactly his style, I dedicate it to him because we always loved horror. And a special dedication to John Myers, whose generosity has helped me achieve success as an author.

Leather Head

Gable pulls his leather jockstrap up over his black leather motorcycle boots and takes a hit of weed at the same time. Who says potheads are lazy? He’s multitasking. His leather harness is already on, as is his collar. He looks at himself in the mirror and smirks. He isn’t into the leather scene, S&M or any of that, but he knows how to dress for a party in the city.

It’s Folsom Street Fair day in San Francisco, a celebration of the gay S&M and leather community. This year’s fair has a dark shadow over it, but the optimists insist it shouldn’t let it ruin their fair. If they all stay home, then the killer has won. Four gruesome murders in four weeks in the Folsom area of the city, all gay men, all into the leather scene, have everyone looking twice at the guys clad in leather. And the killer definitely has a type. Gable is that type: tall, dark…and hung.

Gable puts on his shades and checks himself in the mirror. His cell rings. It’s his friend Shawn.

“Honeyhowareyou?” He says it so fast it always sounds like one word.

“I’m fabulous, dressed and ready to go,” Gable tells him.

“So am I. I’m wearing my leather vest and cap. Did you at least get a leather wrist band or something?” Shawn asks him, knowing Gable doesn’t own a stitch of leather.

Gable grins, still checking himself in the mirror. “Or something,” he tells him with a laugh.

“Oh no…you didn’t, did you?”

“You’ll see,” Gable teases, smirking at the sight of himself in the mirror. He looks pretty hot, but there’s also a part of him that thinks he looks ridiculous, simply because this isn’t who he really is. He’s definitely in on the joke. But for someone who loves Halloween, this isn’t so different, and it’s giving him a rush of adrenalin he can’t deny.

“You’d better be careful or you’re going to end up chained to a bed or something. Just be careful what you’re advertising for.”

To be honest, he did think some of the guys in the leather scene were a little scary. But Gable wasn’t one to let a little fear interfere with his fun.

“I can handle these guys,” Gable tells him. “They’re just guys who wear leather. It’s a costume, and isn’t everything we wear a costume? They’re not so different.”

“That’s deep,” Shawn deadpans. “Well, they might be a little kinkier than you are, that’s what I’m saying. If you’re all decked out in leather, they’ll think that’s what you’re into.”

“Like I said, I can handle these guys,” Gable assures him.

“Ok, just remember the difference is, on Halloween people know it’s a costume, these guys are going to think you’re really into it. Just keep that in mind, especially considering there’s some psycho out there killing people.”

“I don’t even plan on going home with anyone, I’m just going out and having some fun.”

“Uh-huh. So, the Padlock, at four o’clock or so?”

“Yeah, see you then,” Gable responds. “I can’t wait. It should be fun.”

“Yeah, it should be. See you later.”

Just like on Halloween, Gable can’t stop looking at himself in the mirror. It isn’t that he’s conceited, it’s just that playing dress up is so much fun.

***

He pulls the leather hood over his head and fastens it in the back. He pulls on his studded leather gloves. He is ready to go on the prowl again. He’s hungry for more. He knows tonight will be special. There are boys in from all over the world this weekend. He can hardly wait. The anticipation of the kill is almost more exciting than the kill itself. He paces in his apartment like a caged panther waiting to be let out. The difference is, he has the key.

Four weeks earlier…

He is built better than anyone at the bar, and loves to show it off with no shirt on. His biceps and chest bulge and glisten in the dark bar. JJ notices him right away. But despite being such a show off, the guy is mysterious. He’s wearing a studded leather hood over his head, with holes for his eyes, mouth, and nose. It’s scary, but the rest of him is sexy. The mix of sex and danger is intoxicating to JJ, so he decides to go after him. As he catches the steely gaze of the big stud it burns a hole right through him, like a laser. Suddenly he wonders if he is on the hunt or being hunted. Either way, JJ figures it will be a good time, so he flashes him a smile. The hunk nods his leathered head. The chitchat between them is very brief and to the point. A few minutes later, he is at the leather hooded guy’s apartment, conveniently located a block and a half away. They exchange no words and waste no time when they get there.

As JJ goes down on him, he still doesn’t know his name or what his face looks like, but he knows to call him Sir. He got that message loud and clear in the few words they exchanged at the bar. He looks up at the masked stranger as he gobbles him up, admiring his muscles and body, but wonders what his face looks like under that leather hood. He must be really hot to match the rest of him, JJ imagines. The mystery of it just adds to the appeal, and his imagination paints a very hot picture in his mind. It isn’t exactly anonymous sex, but it’s pretty damn close.

“Get those pants off. In fact, get all the way naked,” he orders him.

JJ obliges.

“Now turn around, but stay on your knees, boy,” he orders him.

“Yes, Sir.”

He feels a leather glove grip him around the neck and at the same time a leather gloved hand slaps his ass, hard. Then, an even harder slap, stinging his butt cheek and turning it red.

“You like that?” he asks him.

“Yes, Sir,” JJ tells him. “I like it a lot.”

With that he gets another hard slap against his other butt cheek. Then he feels one of the leather fingers go up his ass.

“I bet you like that too, don’t you, queer boy?”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re my bitch now, and don’t you forget it. You’ll do what I say when I say.”

“Sir, yes, Sir.”

The leather grip around his neck grows tighter. And then tighter. It is almost too tight. Just the way JJ likes it. He likes guys who will push it to the edge. He likes his sex rough and just on the verge of dangerous. He wiggles his butt and moans in anticipation as the grip grows even tighter around his neck.

“Are you my bitch?”

He can barely speak because the grip around his throat is so tight, but he manages to squeak out “Yes, Sir.”

The glove squeezes his neck tighter, and then even tighter. Now it’s too tight; he can’t breathe. The first moment of it excites him, but then he realizes the guy isn’t letting up and probably doesn’t realize he can’t breathe. He tries to yell, but as he does the stranger’s other hand comes up and grips around his neck too, strangling him.

“You’re getting exactly what you asked for,” the leather hooded stranger tells him. “I’m not going to stop until you take your last breath, I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve.”

At first, JJ thinks he is still role playing, but as the guy squeezes his neck even tighter and then lets out a deep, wicked laugh, he realizes this guy isn’t just playing. He stands up and tries to break free. He grabs at the grip around his neck with both hands, trying to pull them off, but the guy is too strong. He feels panic at not being able to breathe, and the reality of what is happening hits him. This guy is trying to kill me, he realizes. He jerks and kicks and flails, but isn’t strong enough to break his grip. He starts to feel dizzy and light headed.

He knees him in the groin, but the big beast just laughs.

“Thanks, I love that,” he tells him. “Do it harder, punk.”

JJ flails his arms and legs, desperately trying to break his grip, but he can’t. He still can’t breathe and starts to panic. He tries to gasp for air, but the grip is too tight around his neck. His face is hot and flushed. He feels dizzier and dizzier. The leather hooded monster just laughs.

As he begins to pass out, JJ feels a hard penis against his butt cheeks. The stranger’s leather gloves squeeze his neck in a death grip, squeezing the life out of him.

“You die now, my little bitch,” the deep voice says from beneath the leather hood. “You do as I say when I say. Die now, bitch—die!”

He squeezes his neck with all his might and clamps it tight until JJ’s body starts to go limp. The stranger moans, feeling the limpness of JJ’s body, and ejaculates all over his ass. JJ doesn’t move, he has taken his last breath, he’s dead.

“You’re marked as mine now, bitch,” the deep voice murmurs, “forever.”

He releases his grip from around JJ’s neck and slaps him on the ass, hard. He looks down at his dead body and laughs with satisfaction.

***

A cab finally shows up and Gable is on his way to the Folsom Street Fair. He gets there very late and misses most of it, but it’s all about the after parties anyway. After the cab drops him off, he cruises around, checking out the guys and their get ups. Masters leading their subs around like dogs on a chain, naked guys, half-naked leather guys, full gear leather masters and slaves, and pretenders who put on a leather item or two. Gable knows he looks like the real deal, even if he isn’t. He’s getting a lot of looks in his get up and he’s definitely getting a kick out of it. It is very similar to the feeling he gets dressing up for Halloween. It’s fun—and exhilarating.

“Oh my God, look at you,” he hears a voice say to him.

It’s his friend Jeff, in leather chaps and no shirt.

“Wow, you look great, Gable, but I thought you weren’t into leather,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“When in Rome,” Gable laughs.

“I guess so. Well done, I have to say,” he says looking him up and down. “Very well done. If I didn’t know better…”

“But ya, do, Blanche, ya do!” Gable mocks. They both crack up laughing.

“Hey, let’s get high,” Jeff suggests, pulling a joint out of his cigarette pack. Jeff is a little guy height wise, about 5’ 8”, but he has a big presence, a hot body and a ton of swagger. Still, Gable isn’t attracted to him in a sexual way because they are buds, not to mention the fact that Jeff is married. But Gable has always liked his style.

“Let’s walk down a few blocks, away from the crowd; some of these police officers are real, you know.”

Gable smiles. They walk down to an alley and sit on the steps of a house. Jeff lights up the joint, takes a hit, and passes it to Gable.

“So, where are you headed?”

“I’m going to the Padlock to meet Shawn,” Gable tells him.

“Oh cool, yeah that’s a pretty happening place. I might show up there later myself.”

They pass the joint back and forth, taking a couple of hits each before Jeff puts it out and drops the roach in his cigarette pack.

“I save them and roll them up when I run out.”

“Thanks for the hits,” Gable tells him, “that’s pretty good stuff. I guess I’m going to head over to the Padlock now. So maybe I’ll see you there later.”

“Yeah, cool, see ya,” Jeff tells him, lighting up a cigarette. He takes one puff, then puts it out. “I’m trying to quit.”

Gable walks the four blocks over to the Padlock, and it’s packed, which is no surprise given it’s a leather bar during the Folsom Street Fair.

Gable isn’t much of a drinker except for some Champagne on New Year’s Eve or a special occasion, or maybe a glass of red wine at dinner, so he just gets a bottled water at the bar. He’s feeling pretty good off that joint anyway.

He looks around the bar, and it’s quite a scene. Leather daddies, boys, masters and slaves everywhere, from nearly naked to full leather gear. The music’s thudding beat and the darkness of the bar add to the mood. Gable can’t help but bop to the music a bit, it’s so infectious. He wonders if Shawn is there yet, and glances around at the crowd. He gets quite a few glances back. He smirks to no one in particular, just at the thought that he passes as a leather guy. I pulled it off, he thinks to himself.

As he stares across the bar, he notices a guy standing against the wall who is hard not to notice. He is built like a brickhouse, tall and muscled. He has on tight leather pants and almost knee-high leather boots, with no shirt; his smooth, huge chest and biceps bulge. But what is really getting Gable’s attention is the leather hood over his head. There are holes for his eyes, and small ones for his nostrils, and then a zipper, which is open, for his mouth. It has metal studs all over it. It’s bizarre. The rest of him is hot, but that hood is creepy looking; it’s flat out scary. Gable cringes as he stares at his hooded face. As he looks closer, the leather headed stranger turns his head in his direction. He can see his eyes through the leather hood zeroing in on him, like lasers. A cold shiver goes through Gable’s body. His stare is sexy, but also downright bone chilling. The way the guy turned and looked right at him was spooky, like he knew who was looking at him before he turned. Gable’s used to being cruised, but this stare is both seductive and unsettling at the same time. The leather hood is definitely creepy looking, but his body is so damn hot. Talk about mixed feelings. He thinks back to Shawn telling him to be careful about what he’d be attracting decked out all in leather. Gable smiles in the stranger’s direction, but it’s a studied smile, not quite the natural smile he usually puts out; it’s a cautious smile. Gable isn’t sure about this guy. One of his heads is saying yes, the other is saying no.

The leather headed stranger brings his left hand up to his chin, clad in a black leather glove. He rubs his chin, and stares at Gable, as if sizing him up. For some reason, it makes Gable feel more like a piece of meat than it usually does. Maybe it’s all the leather and that scary leather hood, but he’s feeling like an animal in the jungle being stared down by a big panther. The mixture of that hot body and the dangerous vibe from that hood is something Gable hasn’t really felt before when cruising a guy. He isn’t quite sure what to make of it, but he can’t deny the excitement he’s feeling. He also can’t deny the guy is a little freaky.

Gable sips on his water and thinks to himself that although this guy’s body is smoking hot, the leather hood is just too spooky for him. He wonders what the hood is about, just what is this guy into that requires wearing that hood? Is it just the fantasy of being somewhat anonymous? Gable never was a fan of the dark sections of sex clubs because he likes knowing exactly what someone looks like. He is definitely a lights on during sex kind of guy. He looks around the rest of the bar, but he’s still thinking about the guy with the leather hood and killer body.

Three weeks earlier…

Tomás is tall and lanky, with blue eyes, black hair, and legs that go on for days. He has a smile that’s friendly and at the same time says I can be a little bit nasty, but in a fun way. Leather Head sets his laser-like eyes on him, zooming in on his prey like a cat in the night. Tomás tries to throw swagger back at him with a wink, but Leather Head just smiles knowingly. A gazelle is no match for a panther.

Leather Head waves him over to follow him out of the bar. It’s an arrogant gesture, but goes with the whole look and actually turns Tomás on even more. It is almost dismissive in a way, like Ok, I know you want me so come on over here. Tomás obeys. Silently, he follows him for a block and a half, then follows him right into his house. No words are exchanged. Tomás is surprised when the leather hooded stud drops down on his knees; he seemed like a total top up until that point. Tomás normally wouldn’t complain, but the one thing he’s worried about is that zippered mouth on the leather hood. Every guy at one point has experienced the pain of your junk caught in a zipper. (Ouch!) But he also figures a guy like this has done this a few times; he knows what he’s doing. He is right about that, more than he knows. He knows exactly what he is doing, like a spider spinning his web.

He hardly has his cock in his mouth before he feels and hears the zipper zip tight around his cock, and he jerks in pain. Tomás doesn’t mind some smacks on his ass, but this isn’t the kind of pain he was looking for. Since they hadn’t done any talking on the way home from the bar, they didn’t have a “safe” word.

“Owww! Holy shit! That hella hurts, pull it back!”

Instead he feels the zipper tighten, cutting into the sides of his erect penis.

“What the fuck are you doing? I said pull it back, that fucking hurts!”

“I call the shots. Do as I say or you’ll lose it, queer boy,” he growls.

At that Tomas smacks him on the side of his head, his hand making a loud sound hitting the leather hood. With that, Leather Head jerks the zipper even further closed, cutting into both sides of his dying erection.

“Do that again and I’ll tear your dick right off!”

What the hell? This guy is crazy, Tomás thinks to himself. He isn’t just into leather and role play, this dude is whacked. Suddenly he feels panicked. What the hell did he get himself into with this nut job?

Tomás can feel the steel zipper pinching his penis hard, but is afraid to move for fear the pain will be even worse. He freezes in terror. What the fuck do I do?, he thinks to himself. His penis is bleeding at both sides, it hurts like hell, and he is one jerk of this guy’s head away from having his cock ripped right off him. And he now knows this guy is crazy enough to do it.

The image of Leather Head biting down through his cock and pulling the zipper as tight as he can and literally ripping his penis off flashes through his mind. Blood spurts out of where his cock once was, now just hanging balls and bloody flesh. Leather Head holds his bloodied, dismembered cock in his mouth, shaking his head back and forth like a dog with a bone, as blood splatters off of it. He tries to wipe the image from his mind.

The next thing he knows, he is thrown to the ground and Leather Head rolls on top of him, but at least his now soft cock is out of his zippered mouth, though still bleeding.

He suddenly feels leather gloves grabbing him around his neck, squeezing the breath out of him.

“You NEVER defy me! Never! Do you hear me? You die now, bitch!”

What the fuck is up with this guy? Tomás thinks to himself. He likes to play rough, but not like this, drawing blood and now choking him. This guy is out of his mind. Tomás tries to pull his hands off his neck, but is overpowered, this maniac is too strong. He can’t breathe and feels like he is going to pass out. Leather Head just squeezes tighter. He holds his death grip for over a minute as Tomás bucks and tries to break free but, like a boa constrictor, that just makes him tighten his grip even more. Tomás suddenly remembers the murder he heard about last week. This is the guy, he realizes, and he’s about to kill me. He feels dizzier and dizzier until finally he passes out.

Leather Head holds his grip for a few more moments, just to make sure. He smiles as he finally feels his victim’s body start to go limp, and at that pulls out his huge, now erect cock. As Tomás’ body goes totally limp and dead, he cums all over him.

“You’re my bitch now, queer boy.”

He reaches down and squeezes his face with his leathered glove, then slaps it, hard.

***

As Gable scans the crowd, he hears a familiar voice.

“Honeyhowareyou?” It’s Shawn.

“There you are, I was just looking for you,” Gable tells him.

“You were looking for something alright, but I don’t think it was me, bitch.”

Gable laughs.

“Ha. Well, can you blame me? It’s quite the crowd.”

“I know it is,” Shawn says. “I love it. So, has anyone caught your eye?”

“Well, this one guy has a really hot body, but he’s a little scary looking, he’s wearing one of those leather hoods. I thought bottoms usually wore those, but this guy definitely looks like a top. Anyway, the hood thing is just a little too spooky. It’s too bad because his body is smoking hot.”

Shawn scopes the crowd, his eyes darting from guy to guy.

“Oh, there he is. Damn, his body is really hot! And he’s hella tall. What is he, like 6’6”? And look at those muscles, damn. But you’re right, that hood is freaky. I always wonder when they wear those things, what are they hiding? Is it so bad you had to put a bag over it? Even if it is expensive, studded leather.”

Gable laughs. “You may have a point. Maybe he’s a lot older than he looks, and just keeps his body in shape.”

“But those biceps and chest…god damn! Not to mention that bulge, did you notice…?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Gable interjects. “How could I not? It’s frickin’ huge.”

They hang out for another half an hour or so before Shawn starts cruising a hot young Asian guy in skin tight leather pants and no shirt. Gable gives Shawn a knowing look, his cue to go their separate ways so Shawn can make his move. Gable heads to the bathroom, which is a big tub-like urinal for three or four, rather than separate individual ones. Another guy is just finishing and smiles at Gable as he zips up. Gable pulls out his cock and starts to relieve himself.

A few seconds later, the muscled guy in the leather hood from earlier walks in and stands right next to Gable, even though there is plenty of room further down. Gable immediately feels both nervous and excited.

Gable is just finishing as the leather hooded muscle stud pulls his cock out. It’s huge, even though it’s still flaccid. Gable can only imagine how big it is erect. Gable shakes his cock—not so bad in length or girth itself—and then gives it a few extra shakes because he’s not exactly in a hurry to zip up as he eyes the guy’s huge cock.

“Like what you see, pretty boy?”

His voice is so deep it is almost scary, but still damn sexy. This definitely adds fuel to Gable’s excitement; a wimpy voice would have killed the fantasy for him, his voice just made him even more of a turn on.

Gable looks back down at it and the guy shakes it at him with his leather gloved hand wrapped around its base; it flops back and forth and grows even bigger. It isn’t just long, it is really thick.

“Yeah, it looks pretty good to me,” Gable manages to say, mesmerized by the size of it as it grows even bigger.

“I bet you’d make a good little cocksucker; I like those lips,” he tells him as he reaches up with his leathered hand and squeezes Gable’s lower lip between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, are you a hungry little cocksucker, boy?”

Gable smiles nervously, turned on but still somewhat uptight. The guy excites him, but scares him a little bit at the same time. The leather hood is still freaking him out, and the guy’s voice, although deep and sexy, is borderline between dangerous and scary. He sounds like a sexy Darth Vader with a hint of Sylvester Stallone.

“Go on, have a little taste, no one’s coming,” he tells Gable. “You know you want to.”

Gable glances around and then, feeling his own cock throb, is too turned on to resist and goes down on the hooded man, taking his huge fat cock into his mouth and sucking it down. Gable is so turned on he feels like he is going to cum instantly. He looks up at the leather stud’s huge chest and bulging biceps as he sucks his big cock down. He is built like a huge Roman god.

The leather headed guy takes one of his gloved hands and cups it firmly behind Gable’s head, pushing it down further and further on his huge dick. Gable almost chokes as the big stud pushes his head almost all the way down on him. Gable can hardly breathe, but he loves it. The mixture of desire and danger is an intoxicating mix.

“Go on, you dirty little boy, you know you like it,” he tells Gable. “Show me what a hungry little cock sucking queer boy you are for big dick.”

Gable starts stroking his own cock as he slurps it up and down a few times, looking up at the leather headed stud. He’s so horny he feels like he’s going to cum already. His heart is racing and his excitement is sky rocketing. He’s now furiously jacking off and totally lost in the fantasy until he hears someone coming. He jerks up to his feet and shakes his cock, as if he’s just finished pissing, and pulls his rock hard cock back into his pants. Leather Head’s huge hard cock throbs and bobs up and down, glistening from the drool all over it.

Gable quickly turns to go, not even noticing it is Shawn that has come into the bathroom. A minute or so later, when Shawn comes out, he runs up to Gable.

“Honey, you were going down on Leather Face, weren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gable deadpans.

“Oh, please honey, his cock was rock hard and wet, and you jerked away like a twelve year old getting caught by his mom!”

Gable chuckles. “Well, maybe I had a little taste,” he confesses, playfully tabbing at the corners of his mouth.

“You ho!”

“Jealous?”

“God yes, his cock is fucking HUGE! Long and thick, damn…good for you, honey! Are you going to go home with him? Did you get his number?”

“I don’t even know his name,” Gable admits. “Leather Head?”

“I said Leather Face, but that was the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, right?”

“Ha. Yeah one word, though: Leatherface. But I like Leather Head better.”

“Yeah, I could see that!”

They both laugh and as they do, Gable gazes out into the crowd and across the way up against the wall, there is Leather Head, staring a hole right through him. It’s hard to tell with the hood on, but his body language says he’s a little pissed, maybe not happy that he figures Gable is telling Shawn what—or who—went down in the bathroom and laughing about it. Gable manages a weak smile then looks back toward Shawn.

“He’s looking over at us right now,” Gable says, lowering his voice to a whisper. “He’s over there, against the wall.”

“Oh yeah,” Shawn says. “He looks kind of pissed, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does,” Gable agrees. “But it’s hard to tell, he always looks a little scary with that hood on. If I do go home with him, I’ll make him take that hood off.”

Two weeks earlier…

“Let’s see what’s under that hood,” Carlos suggests.

“That’s not going to happen,” he tells him.

“Oh, come on, you sexy fucker, I want to see your face. Does it look as good as the rest of you?”

“Don’t worry about it, now get on your knees like a good little bitch.”

“Seriously, I want to see what you look like before we go any further. You can put it back on if you want.”

“I can put it back on if I want?” Leather Head starts laughing, not in a jovial way, but in a cocky, arrogant way.

“Let’s be clear. You are my bitch and I call the shots. Now, get on those knees, cock slut!”

“I don’t think so,” Carlos says. “I’m into the fantasy and all, but you’re taking this way too seriously. I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Carlos turns to leave.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” his deep voice growls.

Carlos rolls his eyes, makes a face and turns to get his jacket and leave, but suddenly feels the grip of leather gloves tight around his neck, and squeezing way too tight to be a fantasy.

“I’m not even going to mark you like the rest, you blew your chance, queer boy!”

“Let go of me, what the hell is wrong with you?” Carlos yells, trying to jerk away from him. His voice is strained from the grip around his neck.

He wrestles Carlos to the ground, his 6’5” 230 lb. frame pinning him to the hardwood floor. Carlos does manage to break the grip around his neck.

“You’re crazy! Get the fuck off of me! And what the hell are you talking about, ‘marking me’? You’re fucking crazy, dude!”

“I’m not even going to mark you as my bitch when I’m done with you. You won’t get any of my cum sprayed over you, queer boy.”

Carlos starts to realize just how nuts this guy is.

“Get off of me now or you’re going to end up going to jail. I’ll call the cops.”

“The cops? Don’t make me laugh. I told you, you aren’t going anywhere, bitch. Now…take your last breath.”

Leather Head’s black glove-leathered hands squeeze even tighter around his neck this time. Carlos knees him in the crotch as hard as he can.

Leather Head just laughs.

“Do that again, I like it,” he says. “I have balls of steel, so do it harder, wussy boy.”

Carlos jerks his arms like crazy, breaking the grip around his neck, pulls away from him, gets up and runs toward the front door. He grabs the door knob, but is grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground. His head bangs to the floor and he’s slightly dazed. Leather Head gets on top of him and begins to strangle him again.

Carlos looks up at the dark, mammoth beast on top of him and knows he’s overmatched. Leather Head seems to sense it, like an animal instinctively sensing weakness, and starts to laugh. He squeezes his hands around his neck as hard as he can, gagging him. Carlos can’t breathe and kicks and jerks, doing everything he can to get away, but this monster is just too strong. Leather Head holds his death grip for almost two minutes, like a boa constrictor waiting for its prey to die. Slowly, his kicks and jerks slow down as the fight drains out of him. Finally Leather Head feels Carlos go limp in his grip. He’s dead. Leather Head’s erection throbs in his pants. He gets up and stands over him, then spits down on him.

“You stupid bitch. Don’t you ever disrespect me like that. You don’t tell me what to do. Ever. I tell you what to do. Always.”

He looks down at him one more time, reaches down and slaps him across the face, hard.

***

“Good luck getting him to take that hood off. I don’t know if that’s going to happen,” Shawn tells Gable. “I think the leather hood is all part of the whole anonymous thing, he’s not going to want to take it off.”

“I bet I could convince him,” Gable says, grinning. “I have my ways.”

“I don’t know, you might get more than you bargained for,” Shawn says. “He could snap you like a twig!”

“I’m hardly a twig!”

“Well, no…but compared to him you are. Those biceps are huge. He looks like he might be ‘roided up. Be careful, he might be a little bit of a hot head.”

“Oh, I can handle myself,” Gable assures him. “Don’t worry about me. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Oh, I know it isn’t,” Shawn says.

“Hey, what happened to that little cutie you were cruising?” Gable asks him.

“Oh, he was hot, but we didn’t really click. He was more of a sister.”

“Oh well, plenty of fish in the sea,” Gable tells him. “Have fun and don’t worry about me.”

But Shawn does worry. When he first checked out Leather Head it was hard not to notice his killer body, but the more he checks him out, the more he gets a bad vibe about him. He hopes Gable is careful. For the first time, something even more sinister crosses Shawn’s mind. What if this guy is the Folsom Street Killer?

One week earlier…

Ahmed is in town from Los Angeles and is determined to have a wild weekend in San Francisco. It looks like all systems go as he ends up with one of the biggest, hunkiest studs he’s ever laid eyes on. His body is to die for. He doesn’t even know his name because he is told to address him only as “Sir”, and Ahmed is happy to play along. He’s dabbled in the leather scene, but isn’t into hardcore S&M. He isn’t into real pain or torture, but doesn’t mind a little butt slapping and role play.

Leather Head wrestles with him, and pulls his hands behind his back. Ahmed tries to pull away, but the guy is too strong, and before he knows it, he’s handcuffed. Ahmed shakes his head no.

“I’m not really into that.”

Leather Head just laughs. “You are now.”

“Seriously, I’m not playing, I’m not into this, take them off!” Ahmed yells, starting to get agitated.

Leather Head slaps him across the face, hard, his leather gloved hand stinging his face.

“No one tells me what to do, I tell you what to do. You are my bitch and you’ll do as you’re told.”

Ahmed starts to realize this guy is more than just into the leather scene and rough play, this guy might be nuts, and dangerous. He isn’t sure what to do, or what he can do, but he fights back as hard as he can while being handcuffed, bucking and flailing his legs. He starts to yell for help, but Leather Head stuffs a leather jockstrap in his mouth, almost making him choke, and muting his screams for help.

Suddenly, Leather Head grabs his ankle and wraps rope around it and ties it to the bed post, and then the other leg. Now there is almost nothing he can do. Gagged, tied up and muted, what is this lunatic going to do to him? He cringes at the possibilities.

“Do you like it nice and slow?” Leather Head asks him.

Ahmed is literally scared stiff, he can’t answer with his mouth stuffed with a leather jockstrap and he isn’t sure if he should nod yes or no.

Leather Head smiles and then laughs at the sight of him cowering in fear. It sends a rush of adrenalin through his body making him even more powerful and full of himself. He stands over him and starts flexing his muscles, looking down at him and laughing, and then kicks him in the chest with his massive boot.

“You worthless little queer, I am so superior to you. You knew that from the beginning, maybe you just didn’t realize exactly what that meant. It’s time for you to find out.”

He bursts into laughter, and then it becomes uncontrollable and morphs into a maniacal sounding cackle of contempt. Ahmed is scared out of his mind. His heart is racing. He can hardly believe this is really happening. How the hell can he possibly get out of this?

Leather Head pins him down to the bed with his crotch right over his face. He pulls out his huge, hard cock and slaps him in the face with it. Then again, harder. And again. And again.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you, queer boy? You like being slapped in the face with that big cock, don’t you? Yeah, you like it a lot, don’t you?”

He then stands up and towers over him, putting his size 15 black leather boot on his face, pushing it to the side.

“I am your God, and you worship at my feet, boy. You are my slave and you’ll do what I say when I say.”

He pushes the boot down hard on his face, laughing. He scowls, looks down at him, and kicks him in the nose with his steel-toed boot, bloodying it. He then lays down on top of him, grinding his big cock in between his legs.

“That blood turns me on. Red is the color of lust.”

His tongue slips out of his zippered mouth and he laps at the blood on Ahmed’s face with his tongue. The way his tongue slides out of that zippered leathered mouth reminds Ahmed of a creature morphed from a man and a snake or lizard.

“Mmmmmm, yeah, that tastes good,” Leather Head says as his tongue darts in and out, lapping at his blood.

“You’re going to take it up the ass, like a good little bitch, but first, something to make it perfect.”

His leather gloves squeeze tight around his neck, now bloody from his nose bleed. He squeezes it tighter and tighter, until Ahmed can’t breathe at all.

“A real man doesn’t need a gun or a knife to kill his prey. He uses his bare hands. We are all animals and only the strongest survive. The weak fall by the wayside, that’s the way it’s always been. For someone weaker, like you, it’s only a matter of time. And your time is up, your time to die is now, bitch.”

His cock thrusts back and forth between Ahmed’s legs, but never actually goes inside his butt. He chokes him as hard as he can, his huge leather hands wringing his neck.

“Die! Do you hear me? I said die!”

He grunts loudly as he squeezes his neck with all his might. Finally, he feels his victim’s body go limp, and with that, he starts to explode in orgasm. He quickly stands up and sprays his cum all over Ahmed’s dead body. At the end he points it toward his bloodied face. He shakes the final drops of cum from his enormous cock and looks down at him, smiling.

“You’re my bitch now…and forever.”

The blood mixing with semen swirls and dances, morphing into shapes like a lava lamp. Leather Head looks down and beams over what he’s created. He tilts his head to one side as he admires it. It’s beautiful.

He stands and gazes at it for a few more moments before he pulls his cock back into his pants and zips it up. Before getting off the bed, he stomps down on Ahmed’s chest with his big boot, hard.

***

Gable actually ordered a real drink earlier, vodka and cranberry juice, and gulps the rest of it down in a flourish.

“Need a little more courage, do you?” a voice asks. It’s Shawn.

“Oh, sorry, I zoned out, thinking about something.”

“Yeah, and it’s about 12 inches long!” Shawn teases.

“Oh, stop exaggerating,” Gable tells him, then pauses. “It’s only about 11!”

They both crack up.

“Well, just be careful. That’s all I’m saying, don’t be stupid,” Shawn warns him. “Some of these leather guys are into some pretty crazy stuff. Some of it is a little scary.”

“Don’t worry,” Gable reassures him. “I didn’t get all decked out like this for nothing. I can talk the talk and walk the walk.”

“Alright, Leather Gable, you go on then,” Shawn laughs. “Just don’t call me later after he ties you up and does God knows what to you. You have to be careful, especially after what’s been happening lately. You never know who that killer might be.”

Gable glances back over toward Leather Head. The hairs on his arms stand up at the thought that he might have actually just messed around with someone who killed four guys in the last month. But he sweeps the fear away.

“That guy’s no killer, I’m sure he’s been coming to leather bars down here for years.”

“Maybe,” Shawn says, “but it might not hurt to check around.”

Gable gazes over at Leather Head again. He is definitely scary in that leather hood. And you can’t identify what his face looks like if he ever did do anything, he thinks to himself. Then he stops, and laughs at himself, realizing he is getting a little carried away. Still, he thinks, maybe Shawn is right, it couldn’t hurt to ask around the bar to see if people know him. The bartenders would certainly know if he’s been coming here for a long time.

But as he makes his way to the bar, he feels a hard slap on his butt. He turns around, and it’s him, “Leather Head”.

Gable gulps at the sight of his big frame right in front of him. His biceps bulge and his chest glistens; it is hard to think of him as anything but one hot man. This guy is no killer, he’s hot as hell, Gable thinks to himself as he looks up into his eyes and smiles. At nearly 6’2” himself, there aren’t that many men Gable has to look up to.

***

Shawn watches from across the bar, finishing off his drink and going to the bar and ordering another.

“That guy over there, with the leather hood on, does he come here a lot?”

“Yeah I’ve seen him here quite a bit,” the bartender tells him.

Shawn is relieved. I guess he has nothing to worry about after all.

“I think maybe he just moved here or something,” the bartender tells him. “I’ve just seen him here the last month or so. Pretty hot body, huh?”

“Yeah…” Shawn responds, his mind drifting off.

A cold chill whips through Shawn’s body. About a month? Shawn furrows his brow, his instincts are telling him this is no coincidence. He walks away from the bar realizing that’s exactly how long these murders have been going on, one each weekend for the last four weeks. This would make the fifth weekend.

***

“Can I get you another drink?” Leather Head asks him.

“No, I think I’m good,” Gable says. “I’m a lightweight, I usually don’t even have one drink.”

“How about a little something to smoke? I have a joint of some really good stuff.”

“Hmmm, Ok, sounds good,” Gable tells him.

“C’mon,” Leather Head says, motioning him toward the front door.

***

Shawn doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it’s kind of odd the guy has been around the exact time that the killings have been taking place. He isn’t ready to convict the guy, but thinks he should at least tell Gable. Being a little extra careful couldn’t hurt. He turns around from the bar and looks back over to where Gable and Leather Head were standing, but they’re gone. Shawn starts to get a bad feeling in his stomach.

***

Gable follows him out of the bar and down to the middle of the block, and then down an alley. Gable has a strut to his walk, but a natural one. He has swagger, but it isn’t forced. About three doors down, Leather Head stops, pulls out a joint, lights it, and puts one boot up on the steps leading up to a house. Gable can’t help but notice how huge his boots are, but considering he stands about 6’5”, they’re in proportion to the rest of him. He’s one huge man.

Leather Head tokes the joint through the zippered opening at his mouth, then passes it to Gable. Gable takes a puff and passes it back.

“So you come to this bar a lot?” Gable asks him.

“A few times,” he says. “I just moved here about a month ago, from New York. I like it here, it suits me.”

His voice is so deep and masculine; a real turn on to Gable. There is nothing more disappointing than a big hunky guy with a voice like Minnie Mouse. His voice definitely fits the rest of him.

***

Shawn looks around the bar, trying to find Gable, but no luck. He does run into his friend Kevin, who is talking to a big hairy guy, a “bear”, Kevin’s type. The bear, Larry, is a regular at the bar and confirms what the bartender told him, that Leather Head has only been coming around for about the last month. Shawn really starts to get a bad feeling about Gable and Leather Head. He looks around the bar again in all directions, but there’s no sight of either one of them. He bites his lower lip and wonders what he can do. He could never live with himself if something happened to Gable and he could have prevented it. He loves him like a brother.

***

“So you want to come over? I live right there,” Leather Head says, pointing to the next building, a very small house; tiny even for San Francisco, probably a one bedroom. The basement windows are boarded up, giving the small house an eerie, almost abandoned look.

“Oh, wow, really? You live so close to the bar. That’s pretty convenient. No wonder you go to the Padlock.”

“So..?”

“Sure,” Gable says, “why not?”

***

Shawn looks everywhere in the bar, but Gable—and Leather Head—are gone. It’s not like he totally believes Gable just left with the Folsom Street Serial Killer, but he does think it’s a possibility, and thinks he’d better pass on the info he got just in case.

***

The first thing Gable notices about Leather Head’s place is the starkness, it’s impossible not to notice it. There is no art on the walls, no knickknacks or much of anything sitting around, it looks like no one lives there. There is a single black leather sofa in the living room, no coffee table or side chairs, just one metallic lamp next to it. There are hardwood floors with no throw rugs anywhere. There is a big screen TV, but nothing else. He leads Gable back to his bedroom, like an animal leading its prey into his lair, which is just as stark. There is just a bed and small nightstand next to it, all black; black sheets, pillow cases, everything. It is very dimly lit. As turned on as Gable is by this guy, he is starting to get an uneasy feeling. Something doesn’t seem right.

***

Shawn calls Gable’s cell, but after a few rings, it goes to voicemail. He texts a message telling him what he’s heard about Leather Head, and tells him to call or text him back.

***

Just as they sit down on the bed, Gable’s cell goes off in his jacket that he’s thrown over the bed. It rings a couple of times and goes to voicemail.

“So what’s your name, anyway?” Gable asks him. “I’m Gable.”

“You can call me, Sir,” Leather Head tells him.

Ok, Gable thinks to himself, I can play along with this fantasy; in fact, it’s pretty damn hot.

Leather Head reaches over and pushes Gable’s head down onto his crotch.

“Get on your knees, boy.”

Gable smiles, and does as he’s told. He kneels in front of him, looking up at his huge broad smooth chest and bulging biceps. He reaches up and rubs his massive bulge as he feels his own cock growing hard. Leather Head quickly knocks his hand away, hard.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch that, boy.”

Oh, ok, I get it, Gable thinks to himself, I think I get the hang of it now. This isn’t his usual scene, but Gable is pretty smart and good at thinking on his feet. He knows how to play along.

“Sorry, Sir,” Gable apologizes.

“That’s better,” he says.

Leather Head pulls an ashtray out of the end table drawer and lights up what’s left of the joint. He takes a deep hit through his zippered mouth, then another, before he puts it to Gable’s lips.

“Suck it,” Leather Head tells him.

Gable smiles and inhales, holds it, then lets out a big cloud of smoke.

Gable’s cell phone rings again. Leather Head suddenly grabs Gable’s jacket, walks out and tosses it into onto the living room sofa. I guess he isn’t liking the phone going off, Gable thinks to himself. But what a weird way to handle it; this guy is definitely a little strange. But hey, it isn’t like he’s marrying the guy, he doesn’t even know his name. It’s just a one night fling with a masked stranger he’s probably never going to see again. What harm can it be?

He looks over at the nightstand and notices a pair of handcuffs next to the ashtray. He smirks, but then furrows his brow, because he isn’t really into being handcuffed. He doesn’t mind playing submissive in roleplay, but being handcuffed means a little too much loss of control for Gable. He then remembers something about the Folsom Street murders: one of the dead bodies showed signs of having been handcuffed. He glances back over at the handcuffs on the nightstand. Just then, Leather Head walks back in.

“Back on your knees, now!” he orders, pointing to a spot in front of the bed. Leather Head stands over him, towering above him. He reaches down with his gloved hand and pushes Gable’s head down on his left boot.

“Kiss it, slave boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” Gable says, playing along and kissing his huge size 15 boots. This is actually pretty hot in a weird way, Gable thinks to himself, feeling his cock get stiff as he kisses the big leather stud’s boots. He’s never done this before, but it’s hot. He is definitely turned on by Leather Head’s swagger. It’s impossible to see the expression on his face with his leather hood on, but Gable imagines he has a cocky smirk on his face.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, queer boy? You like worshipping at my feet, worshipping me like a god, like a good little slave boy.”

He pulls Gable’s head back up off his boot by the chin and laughs at him, then slaps him across the face with his leathered gloved hand, hard. Gable winces. It’s a little harder than Gable expected, but in the heat of the moment he goes with it; he’s now hard and horny as hell.

Leather Head rubs his unbelievably huge bulge in his leather pants.

“Now, if you want this, you’re going to have to beg for it!”

“Oh, please,” Gable begs, “please, Sir, I want to suck it so bad.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he laughs, pulling down his fly and pulling out his flaccid cock, which is still bigger than most guys’ hard.

“Ever seen one this big before?”

“No,” Gable says. “Never.”

“This is what a real man’s cock looks like, not a little sissy boy cock like yours. You think yours is big? What is it, seven or eight inches? That’s tiny compared to mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Gable agrees, nodding up at him.

Gable is now rock hard inside his pants, he is really getting into this fantasy. Just then, he hears the faint sound of his cell phone going off again in the other room. Someone sure is trying to get ahold of him; he thinks it’s probably Shawn.

“Let me take a piss first, I really have to go,” Gable tells him, then pauses to think about it for a second and rephrases it.

“Permission to use the bathroom, Sir? I’ll be fast, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” Leather Head says dismissively. “But don’t be long.”

As Gable takes a leak, he once again hears his phone going off; he’s sure it’s Shawn. He starts to wonder why he is calling him over and over. He remembers the conversation they had in the bar right before he left with Leather Head. He was on his way to ask the bartender if he knew anything about Leather Head, but that’s when he ran into him and they went off to smoke the joint and then came here. He starts to wonder if maybe Shawn did find out something, and it wasn’t good. Maybe he should just give a listen to the messages or texts. He finishes peeing and zips up, washes his hands real quick, and then sneaks into the living room and pulls his cell phone out of his jacket. There are three texts, all from Shawn.

Leather Head has only been around the bar for a month, murders have been last four weeks. Call me.

Call me or text me everything is OK.

Hey just googled the murders, the police say they know one thing, the murderer is left handed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Leather Head barks.

Startled, Gable drops his phone. He quickly picks it back up.

“Sorry, Sir, I was getting so many calls, and…” he pauses, and decides to lie, “I just wanted to shut the damn thing off.”

“Good,” Leather Head tells him, “I don’t like any distractions. So, is it off now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

They walk back into the bedroom and Gable thinks about the texts Shawn sent. He already felt a little uneasy about this guy, and now he starts feeling a little scared. Is it really possible this guy is the killer? he wonders. No, I’m just freaking myself out, he tells himself. But one thought keeps coming back to him, follow your gut. And his gut is telling him he should just end this and get the hell out. He was so turned on just a few moments ago, but those messages from Shawn are a red flag he can’t ignore.

One thing is for sure, his hard on is gone. He’s freaked himself out. Real or imagination gone wild, he’s now feeling something he’s never felt before when hooking up with a guy: scared. Gable starts thinking about how to back out of this without it seeming too weird. He doesn’t want to piss him off, just in case…he is the killer.

When they get back to the bedroom, Leather Head orders him back on his knees and stands over him again. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the handcuffs. The silver color catches the light as they swing from his hand—his left hand.

A cold chill whips through Gable’s body. He takes a deep breath. Oh my God, he’s left handed, he realizes. Gable is now even more scared. He isn’t into the handcuff thing anyway, and knows he needs to leave. He is probably just overreacting to everything, there are lots of left handed people, but he is now just too freaked out to have any fun.

He stands up.

“You know, I’m not really into the handcuff thing,” he tells him.

“Back on your knees, boy, now!” He smacks him across the face with his leather gloved hand, hard.

“Hey! That fucking hurt! I think I’m just going to go,” Gable tells him.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Leather Head growls. “Now get back on your knees before you really piss me off.”

Gable’s mind races. Now he is beyond being a little freaked out and thinking he’s overreacting, he really thinks this guy might be the killer. What the hell is he going to do? This guy is huge. How the heck is he going to get out of this?

“On your knees now, boy!”

Gable’s mind flashes back to high school. His little brother Jack was a champion wrestler. He remembers him telling Gable how he could use the moves he learned in wrestling to take down a much bigger guy than himself. He remembers one particular move, he can’t remember what it is called, but he remembers it is when you are down and the other guy is standing up. He wishes he was the wrestler his brother was, but maybe, just maybe if he can remember that move he can knock Leather Head down. And then what? Even if he knocks him down, Leather Head is so much bigger than him the deck will still be stacked against him. He wracks his brain and then it comes to him. The handcuffs! If he can knock him down and get him on his stomach, maybe he can get one hand cuffed and then the other. He needs to do something to give him some kind of advantage, because he definitely needs one to get out of here.

He pictures his brother Jack teaching him that move. He did use it once when he wrestled this kid in gym class in high school, and it worked. Gable beat a kid that everyone thought would beat him easily, because of that move. But Leather Head is so huge. Still, it’s his only chance.

“Did you hear me, boy? Do you want to get a whipping? You’re starting to piss me off. Now do what I said or it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Holy shit, this guy is a psycho and he’s about to explode, Gable thinks to himself. He takes a deep breath, realizing it’s now or never, this has to work or he’s dead meat. He has to do it quickly, before Leather Head knows what hit him. He feels dread in his stomach at the thought of it not working, in which case, he will probably be Leather Head’s next victim. But he has to try something and the time is now.

He takes a deep breath, his heart racing, then quickly rises up from his knees, grabs under Leather Head’s knee and pulls up as hard as he can. Leather Head falls backwards onto the floor with a loud crash, and Gable twists his leg around so Leather Head is now face down on the floor. Leather Head’s head smacks down hard on the hardwood floor and he’s stunned. Gable grabs the handcuffs, cuffs one wrist, then pulls the other wrist over and cuffs it too. It happens in an instant and so fast Gable can hardly believe he actually pulled it off. Leather Head is still dazed from the fall, but now starts to fight back, but Gable did it, he’s handcuffed him! And he’s also very pissed.

Gable jumps up and notices the handcuff’s key on the nightstand. He grabs it and stuffs it into his pocket. He runs into the living room and grabs his jacket, and turns to run out, but there is Leather Head, arms handcuffed behind his back, but standing in the hallway to the door, all 6’5” of him. Even handcuffed, he’s a formidable force. Still, having no use of his hands and arms is a big disadvantage, and Gable wants to make sure he takes advantage of that. He knows Leather Head can’t grab him, but he can kick him, and those steel-toes leather boots could do a lot of damage. Maybe instead…

Gable turns and runs the other way, into the bathroom, and locks the door behind him. He has his cell phone in his jacket, and Leather Head won’t be able to unlock the door being handcuffed. He quickly reaches into his jacket and grabs his cell. He hands are shaking, but he manages to call 911 and tells them the address – thank God he had noticed the house number! – and that he is being attacked. Then, he calls Shawn.

“Hey, well you finally decided to call me back, bitch. It’s about time.”

“Shawn, I’m right around corner, 439 Heron Street, the alley. It’s his place, I think he’s the killer, I’m locked in the bathroom! I called the police already!”

“Oh my God! Ok. 439 Heron. I’m on my way!” Shawn tells him.

Just then he hears Leather Head rattling the door knob, then kicking the door.

“He’s trying to break down the door! Hurry!”

Gable wonders how he is rattling the door knob while handcuffed.

“Open up! Open up! I’ll break the fucking door down, you little fucking punk!”

It’s a pretty sturdy looking wood door, Gable just hopes it will hold out until Shawn or the police get there. There is a tiny window above the toilet, but not big enough to climb through. Leather Head’s kicks grow louder and louder, and the wood begins to split near the bottom of the door where he’s kicking it. But even if the wood broke at the bottom, Gable would be safe because it’d still be locked until there was enough knocked away for Leather Head to get through. He would need a huge gap to get that big frame through.

Still, he can’t take any chances. He pulls open the medicine cabinet and then a few drawers, but finds nothing he can use as a weapon. He jerks open the closet door and freezes. His face contorts in disgust and disbelief; his eyes widen, his heart starts beating faster. He puts his hand to his chest in shock, and takes a long, deep breath. What in holy hell?

Like the rest of the place, the closet shelves are very sparse. On the lower shelf there is just one large black towel and one smaller one. But it is the shelf above that Gable’s eyes are locked on. He can hardly believe what he is seeing.

There are five large mason jars, filled with some kind of clear liquid. Formaldehyde maybe? But it’s what is floating in them that has him scared out of his mind in disbelief.

“Oh my God. Holy shit!” he says out loud.

Floating in each jar but the fifth one are the severed penis and balls of someone. They are sliced off together, somewhat intact, or as intact as they can be in the condition they are in. The first two are more decomposed than the last two so maybe it isn’t formaldehyde. Gable feels sick to his stomach, and puts his hand to his mouth to suppress himself from throwing up. Staring at them, he almost feels like he is going into shock; he is frozen. Each jar has a piece of masking tape across the lid that says, “MY BITCH”. The fifth jar is labeled too, but empty. Is it for…whoever is next? Gable shudders from head to toe. He finally flinches out of his freeze, and slams the closet door back shut, but he’s shaking. He can’t get the image of what he just saw out of his mind. Good God almighty, he thinks to himself, this guy is a maniac. A shiver goes through his body with flashes of what it would mean for him to be next.

***

Shawn runs toward the address Gable gave him and reaches into his pocket and grabs his mace. He flips it upright in his hand and flips the switch over on the top of it so it‘s ready to spray. He reaches the alley in no time and runs down the sidewalk toward the address. When he reaches the house, he grabs his cell and calls Gable back.

***

Gable is in shock, thinking about the severed penises he just saw. He’s still standing in front of the closed closet door when the bashing sounds of kicking jolt him out of his daze. Leather Head realizes he should be kicking further up the door where the lock is, and begins bashing it over and over. Some of the wood starts to split, and Gable starts to freak out. The door won’t hold up much longer. Gable backs into the corner of the bathroom, as far away from the door as he can get, but it isn’t far. Leather Head kicks at the door then, again. The wood splits a little more. Just then, his cell rings.

“Hello!” Gable answers.

“I’m out front, what should I do?”

“Oh my god. Thank God! Break a window, do whatever you have to. He’s breaking down the door right now! And he’s even crazier than I thought. I found…you won’t believe it—just hurry! The police are on their way, but it might be too late by the time they get here—get in here now!”

Just then, Leather Head bashes the door again and again and the wood near the lock starts to splinter.

“The wood on the door is splitting! Hurry! Hurry!”

Suddenly, Gable thinks of something: try talking to him. He takes a deep breath to collect himself.

“The police are on their way, you’d be stupid to kill me now,” Gable yells out at him. “You aren’t stupid, are you?”

The kicking stops. “Let’s just tell the police we had a fight that got out of hand,” Gable tells him. “We’ll just go our separate ways, no one needs to go to jail.”

For a moment, Gable thinks his plan has worked. But only for a moment. Leather Head bashes the door again, splitting the wood with his kick. Gable looks on in horror and sees that it has split right where the lock is. He holds his breath. He hears Leather Head grab the door knob from the splintered wood, then sees the door knob turn as if in slow motion, and the wood around the lock splinters and cracks even more. Leather Head begins jerking the door knob violently back and forth.

Gable gets an idea and turns on the hot water in the sink and grabs a small glass with a toothbrush in it and dumps the toothbrush out. The hot water runs and starts to steam. He grabs the glass and fills it with the scalding hot water.

Leather Head pulls and yanks at the door knob even more, and it cracks open just past the lock. Gable winces. The wood completely splits and with one last kick, the door swings open, wood splintering even more as he does. Leather Head, to his surprise, isn’t handcuffed. Oh fuck, Gable thinks to himself.

“You didn’t really think I was going to just let you get away, did you?” Leather Head hisses.

Leather Head’s deep voice scares the hell out of Gable. He just about jumps out of his skin.

“We’re just getting started. I always keep spare keys to my handcuffs,” he laughs, dangling them from his left hand and then twirling them on his finger. Gable is stunned, but thinks quickly on his feet.

“The police are here, they’re at the front door. You’d be stupid to do anything now.”

“I’ve already killed four times, I don’t think I’ll get any more time for a fifth; do you? How’s that for not stupid, you little punk? The way I look at it, I might as well go out with a bang.”

He starts laughing maniacally. Leather Head stuffs the key in his pocket and pulls out a knife.

“I’m going to make you my bitch, and for you, I’m going to do it while you’re still alive!”

Gable now knows exactly what that means. He flashes back to the image of the severed penises floating in those mason jars, and the fifth one, empty and already labeled. He winces at the image of them eerily floating in that liquid, cloudy and murky with bits of God knows what floating in them. He can almost smell the stench of it in his mind and gags at the thought of it.

“Now say “Bye”, bitch!” Leather Head says as he raises the knife up above him and toward Gable.

Gable wastes no time, and throws the glass of hot water in his face, then grabs him around the knee and executes the exact same wrestling move he’d done on him earlier. It isn’t as easy this time, but because he wasn’t ready for it, it works again, and Leather Head bangs backwards down onto the floor, his head hitting it hard with a loud smack. The knife flies out of his hand and hits the wall before clanking to the tile floor.

Gable springs up and runs to get out, but Leather Head jumps up just as quickly. Gable’s heart races as he runs toward the front door hallway, but it quickly sinks when he feels Leather Head grab him from behind. Fear consumes him and he feels like he’s having an instant panic attack. Leather Head twirls him around and slams him up against the wall, hard. Gable is stunned and terrified, feeling almost frozen.

“Time to die, bitch. Take your last breath!”

“Help! Help!” Gable yells out. “Somebody help me!”

Leather Head just laughs, and wraps his leather gloved hands around his throat and squeezes with all his might. Gable reaches up, trying to pull his hands off of him. He can’t breathe.

He knees Leather Head right in the nuts, but Leather Head just laughs even more and tightens his grip.

“Thanks, I like that,” Leather Head tells him in a deep, sick voice. “You’re making this even more fun. I love it when they try to fight back, it makes it more of a challenge. But your fun is done. Now die, bitch!”

Leather Head clamps his gloved hands around Gable’s neck even tighter, trying to squeeze the last breath out of him. The sound of Leather Head’s own breath is loud and spooky, especially coming out of that leather hood.

“You defied me, and for that, you have to die, you worthless little queer!”

Gable bucks and tries to pull his grip off his neck, but can’t. Leather Head squeezes even tighter and begins to laugh even louder in a maniacal cackle.

“You actually thought you could get away, you worthless little weasel. But you’re not getting out of this. I’m the master. I call the shots. I decide who lives and who dies. Now you’ll be my bitch forever.”

Every time he hears the word bitch now he sees those hideous jars of severed penises and the label “MY BITCH” on them. He takes a deep breath at the thought of it—or at least he tries to.

Leather Head tightens his grip even more. Gable feels the fear and panic of death. He can’t breathe and feels like he is going to pass out. Where is Shawn? Where are the police?

“I said die! Die, bitch, die!”

Gable knows it’s over. He feels himself start to lose consciousness. He can’t breathe and his head feels like it’s going to implode. He hears a loud shattering sound and thinks for a second it’s a blood vessel breaking on the side of his head. An image of blood spurting out the side of his head comes to him. He winces. He hears another crash, and realizes it sounds like glass breaking.

“Die bitch!”

It’s the last thing he hears before everything goes black.

***

Shawn kicks in the window and then pulls off his boot to use it to break away the sharp edges of glass around the window with the heel of it. He pulls the boot back on. He can hear commotion inside and crawls through the window as fast as he can without cutting himself.

“Gable!” he yells. “Gable! Where are you? It’s Shawn.”

He runs down the hall toward the sounds he hears.

***

“I said die, bitch!”

Leather Head’s hands clench Gable’s neck as hard as he can, strangling the life out of him. As Gable starts to go limp, Leather Head becomes fully erect. He loves the feeling of his victims going limp in his hands, like a dangling antelope in the clutches of a panther. He is the victor, and to the victor go the spoils. He loves the feeling of superiority. It is a way to keep the human race strong, by weeding out the weak. He is actually doing the human race a favor.

He lets go of his death grip and Gable’s body falls to the floor. Leather Head looks down at his body in triumph.

“Now, I’m going to mark you as mine,” Leather Head says, unzipping his fly. He starts to smile under the shroud of his leather hooded mask. He looks down at Gable’s still, lifeless dead body and laughs at his latest conquest. He starts jacking off rapidly and quickly begins to moan.

Just then, he feels a hand pulling at his leather hood from behind. He spins around. It’s Shawn, who maces Leather Head square in the face. The leather covers most of his face, but his eyes, nose and mouth get a full blast of mace. Leather Head yells out in pain, putting his hands to his leather hooded face. Shawn maces him again. Leather Head screams out even louder and starts to stagger, his huge erect cock still out. Shawn maces him one more time and then runs over to Gable, who is laying on the floor.

“Gable! Gable! Are you ok?”

He cradles Gable’s face, but there is no response. Oh, Christ, I’m too late, Shawn realizes. He’s dead. His hearts sinks, and he tries to catch his breath.

“Gable! Gable! Nooooo!”

He stares at his best friend who was always so full of life, laying there, motionless. Tears start to well up in his eyes. His life won’t be the same without Gable in it. A million memories of Gable and him seem to flash through his mind in an instant. The tears start streaming down his face.

“Gable? Gable?”

Nothing. Shawn starts to sob. Through his tears, he looks at Gable with bleary vision. He stares at Gable’s dead body in disbelief. He can’t believe this is real. Just then, his eyes widen, he can’t believe what he is seeing.

Gables eyes blink open and he starts to cough.

“Gable! Oh my God, you’re alive! I thought he killed you! Get up! Come on! I just maced him, let’s get the hell out of here!”

Shawn grabs him under each arm and pulls him up. Gable staggers to his feet, coughs a few more times and puts his hands to his neck, where Leather Head had been strangling him. It feels like rug burns around his neck from the leather gloves.

“Are you ok?” Shawn asks him.

Gable tries to collect himself. The last thing he remembers is Leather Head strangling him and then passing out. He tries to process what’s happened.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” he manages to say, but then his own eyes widen as though he has seen a ghost.

“Look out!” he yells.

Shawn spins around and sees Leather Head is almost on him, but Shawn still has his mace ready and squirts him again. And again. And again. Leather Head screams in pain and backs away.

“I’ll kill you both, you fucking queers!” Leather Head yells, trying to rub his eyes through his hood. He staggers backwards, clearly dazed and temporarily blinded. Leather Head swings wildly at the air around him.

Shawn grabs Gable’s hand and pulls him.

“C’mon, run Gable, run!”

Just then, they hear the sound of sirens.

The two of them take off, racing toward the front door, with Leather Head now close behind them. As they get to the door and pull it open, Leather Head grabs them both around the neck with each hand. Shawn turns and maces him one more time right in the face. Shawn breaks free, but Leather Head still has his grip on Gable, now with both hands. Shawn maces him again, an inch from his face and together with Gable pulls his hands off his neck. Shawn maces him one more time and Leather Head recoils in pain. They break away and run outside. Just then, a police car pulls up in front of the house. They run toward it.

“He’s in there!” Gable tells the two police. “He tried to kill me, and admitted he killed the other guys.”

“I maced him!” Shawn tells them.

The police draw their guns and go inside. Shawn and Gable look at each other in disbelief.

“Oh my God!” Gable says. “Can you believe it? He really is the killer. This is nuts. I was about to be the fifth. What a psycho! You won’t fucking believe what I found. He cut off their cocks and had them in mason jars!”

“What?”

“Yeah, I saw them in his closet. There were four mason jars filled with formaldehyde or something with cocks and balls floating in them. I couldn’t believe it. He’s really twisted.”

“Oh my God, that’s crazy.”

“I know, believe me. They were labeled “MY BITCH”” and there was a fifth one sitting there empty. It was about to be me!”

“Holy hell. What was it I said about dressing like that if you’re not really into it?”

“Well, I didn’t know he’d be a murderer. I just wanted a few spanks and some roleplay.”

They both suddenly laugh and then hug. Gable grabs Shawn tight, realizing he had just saved his life. He lets out a huge sigh of relief, knowing just how close he came to being Leather Head’s next victim.

“Never again,” Gable tells him. “I’m hanging up my leather jockstrap.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Gable.”

“Oh, Shawn. That was too freaky for words. When he choked me and I passed out for a minute, I thought I was a goner. That was so scary; I’m still shaking. I just need to chill after all that. Lord. After we talk to the police let’s go have a drink and a joint. Or two.”

“Or three,” Shawn laughs.

“But let’s not go to a leather bar,” Gable says. “I think I’ll steer clear of that scene for a while.”

They both laugh.

“And, oh yeah, thanks for saving my life,” Gable tells him with a smirk.

Shawn leans in and gives him a big hug. “Anytime, honey, anytime.”

THE END

Author Bio

Matt Converse of San Francisco made his debut as an author in 2015 with the erotic gay thriller novella Behind the Velvet Curtain. He followed that with Strip Shot, the prequel to Behind the Velvet Curtain. He strives to bring diversity to the publishing world. He writes horror, thriller, mystery, m/m romance and erotica. He’s a night owl who loves to write late at night. His idols range from Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King to Lady Gaga.