Men of Thunder

Daniel had walked a good three miles southwest on Highway 411 out of Maryville, Tennessee, southeast of Knoxville, before he decided to try what he'd been told was surefire success in getting him a hitch. He wanted to get as far away from Knoxville as fast as he could. Every time he saw a white Ford 150 truck, he nearly dove into the bushes at the side of the road until he could make out the logo on the side. He wouldn't put it past Steve to come after him even this far out of the city.

It wasn't like he wasn't prepared to do what he had to do to get the hitch or that it wasn't hot enough on the road not to do it without raising the curiosity of regular motorists. Even the late afternoon was pretty warm late in the summer. And the locals probably walked the side of the road that way anyway.

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and wrapped it around his slim waist and tied off the short sleeves in front.

Sure enough, after he'd done that and turned toward the oncoming road at the sound of a truck, he saw in the near distance, not a Ford 150 nor a semi, but something in between, with a boxy back that hit Daniel as being a refrigerator truck. The vehicle, the first to appear since Daniel turned, bare-chested, and stuck his thumb out, slowed as it approached, almost to a crawl as it passed Daniel. The driver leaned over the passenger seat; took a long, hard look at Daniel; and then pulled over to the shoulder 100 feet or so ahead and put the truck in idle.

Daniel paused for a long moment, having gotten his own look at the truck driver—redheaded and bearded, looking pretty redneck. Not a guy that Daniel would have been surprised to see on a motorcycle with a gang logo on his black-leather jacket. At least thirty, Daniel thought, wearing a sleeveless T and sporting bulging biceps covered in tattoos.

But it wouldn't be light for much longer and Daniel needed to put distance between him and Knoxville. And if the truck driver made demands for the ride, it wasn't any more than Daniel expected or was prepared to accommodate. He'd tacitly accepted this when he'd stripped off his T-shirt. He wasn't running away from doing it; he was running away from the way Steve had brutally been taking it from him. A bit more rough sex to get beyond the reach of Steve as fast and far as possible was something he'd just have to endure.

The passenger door to the truck popped open as Daniel approached, and he had one foot on the runner before he looked into the cab. The man—thin and sinewy—had his thick cock out of the fly of his shorts and was fisting it with his left hand. The man sneered at him.

"You want a ride, boy, you'll have to pay the freight for it."

Daniel sighed, pulled himself up into the cab, plopped on the seat, and pulled the cab door closed behind him.

"Here? Now?" he asked.

"In a bit. Where you headed?"

"Away from Knoxville. Doesn't matter much in what direction as long as it's away from Knoxville."

"Well, then, you're goin' my way. You runnin' away from something in Knoxville?"

"You could say that," Daniel answered. No need to tell him that it was just his boss, Steve, at the landscaping company, who had become possessive and demanding—and very, very rough. It had been OK at first—before Daniel found out that Steve was married and had young kids. Then it wasn't so OK with Daniel anymore.

"Trouble with the law, I reckon."

It was a statement, so Daniel didn't feel the need to answer. Anyway, that would be a better reason than the real one.

"Found the right refuge from that then," the redhead continued. "Me and my friends don't cotton for cops or other rule makers. I can take care of any for you who try to pull you down as long as you're with me." He gestured to behind the seats, and Daniel turned his face, for the first time noticing a rack of three rifles against the back wall of the cab. The driver chuckled, pulling a handgun up from the door side of his seat. "If in we get in close quarters, Betsy here—for the patriot Betsy Ross—will come in handy."

This was getting a bit weird for Daniel, so to change the context, he reached over and touched the guy's cock, which was unusually thick but not unusually long. It took a lurch in length when Daniel touched it. "Nice cock. You want me to suck you off here?" He realized he was repeating something that already had been answered, but he wanted to change the conversation from guns and cops.

"Naw, but turn to me sos I can see how you're built. Hmm, nice. Very nice. Now unbuckle and unzip and let me see what you're working with." When Daniel had fished his cock out, the man laughed, and said, "A real honey you are, ain't you? Got me a real movie star, don't I. My name's Red? What's yours? We're gonna get real well acquainted as we drive up in the Great Smokies."

"John, my name is John," Daniel answered. So, east, into the mountains. That was OK with him. But he'd be happier when he'd parted ways with this one.

Southeast of Maryville, Red turned the truck west on 129, headed up into the Great Smokies. After only a few hours, and with dusk approaching, he entered the broken asphalt pad of a closed gas station and pulled around in the back.

"It's time to pay for the ride," he said, reaching over to wrap a hand around the back of Daniel's neck and pulling Daniel's face down into his lap. At his direction, Daniel had been keeping the cock hard with his hand—but enough in check that the driver didn't spout. Daniel dutifully opened his mouth over the thick cock, which was lengthening even more from his attention. Red reached down for Daniel's cock. Somehow the two managed to get into a sixty-nine position across the truck seat, with Daniel trapped on the bottom, the top of his head pressed into the inside of the driver's door, and each eventually got the other one off. Daniel had voiced his ejaculation in time for Red to turn the cock to splash toward the dashboard, but Daniel got no warning and took a wad at the back of his throat and more on his cheek and chin as he pulled of Red's cock.

Daniel had sucked another guy off before—and even had sixty-nined—but Red had a brutal way of going about it, forcing Daniel to deep throat and hold until the young man was gagging, and sucking hard on Daniel's balls until he cried out for mercy. And he held Daniel tight, not letting him move away from anything. Red just laughed to show how much he enjoyed being cruel.

A group of buildings huddled at the bottom of where the road started to rise at a sharp incline up into the mountains. The only building lit up at this time of the evening, though, was a small, old-fashioned McDonalds.

"Time for dinner. Gotta eat before I get to the camp. Camp food is shit," Red said as he pulled into the fast-food restaurant.

Camp? Daniel wondered. Is this guy going to some sort of camp in the mountains? Red had kept muttering all sorts of government conspiracy stuff and the need for self-sufficiency as they were driving along, and Daniel had just grunted from time to time, sure that some point Red was just going to push him out of the truck, and half wishing he would, but also wanting to get as much mileage between Knoxville and him as he could.

"I'll come in and use the john, and then wait for you in the truck," he said, as Red opened the driver's door.

"You ain't hungry?"

"I'll manage."

"You don't want to spend the money, is that it? Well, for privileges, I'll stand you a meal. You can use the john in there and then, up the road a piece, I'll use the John too. Got it? You said your name was John. For a Big Mac, John takes a big one."

Yes, Daniel got it. But he, in fact, was hungry. And he'd figured Red would fuck him somewhere along the road anyway, even if he didn't agree with it. Red wasn't bulky, but he was wiry, and Daniel assumed the man could break him in half if he took a notion to. So Daniel just agreed to the deal, climbed out of the truck, and headed for the restaurant. Maybe he'd order whatever was the most expensive, he thought. But, of course, by the time he came out of the men's room, Red had already ordered what he was going to be permitted to eat.

The road climbing up into the mountains was windy and it was getting dark when, ignoring the posted signs when a park picnic area was open, Red pulled the truck into the turnoff and parked at the far end of the parking area, which consisted of rows of gravel divided off from each other by rows of overhanging trees.

Daniel prepared to get fucked in the truck, but as he was grasping the waistband of his shorts to pull them down, Red surprised him with a punch on the chin. Shocked and seeing stars, Daniel just sort of collapsed in his seat. Red got out of the truck, came around to the passenger side, jerked the door open, punched Daniel again, and pulled him out of his seat. This wasn't any different than Steve had been giving Daniel. Red had even commented on the bruising on Daniel's face earlier in the drive.

The man was strong. He threw Daniel over his shoulder and walked off into the woods. As he was setting Daniel down beside a big oak and Daniel was clearing his head and steadying himself on his feet, Red punch him again on the chin and followed up with a fist to the solar plexus.

When Daniel could survey his environment again, he found that he was bound to the oak tree, belly and cheek to the bark and his arms encircling the tree, his writs handcuffed to a low-lying limb on the other side. Red was jerking his shorts and briefs down and kneeling behind him, palming his belly to move his pelvis back from the tree trunk, and eating out his ass.

Daniel meekly complied when Red stood, grasped Daniel's hips, and commanded that he move his feet back from the tree and let his ass jut up. Daniel's eyes watered and he gave an internal scream when Red's cock penetrated his channel, but he knew it was useless to cry out for help here in the dark forest, he'd agreed to it, and after the initial thrusts and when a rhythm was established, he wasn't minding the fuck. Of course where they were, that he was handcuffed, and that Red was one crazy dude who had beat him had Daniel scared spitless. Shades of Steve all over again.

After Red was finished, he moved around the tree and released Daniel from the handcuffs. Still stunned, Daniel just sank to the ground by the tree, going into something close to a fetal position in case Red hit him again or kicked him, like Steve would do. But Red didn't do that. He was striding back toward the trunk, when Daniel called out. "Wait. Are you just going to leave me here?"

"Well, now, that's a good question. I'm glad you asked. I could take you with me—to the camp—but you know what you would be getting. It's up to you. If I was you, I'd come along, though. There are all sorts of hungry, creepy things up here in the mountains and I doubt I'll do you any worse than the cops will or than the daddies did to a sweet piece like you in prison. I figure you for a jail breaker on the lam. You took the punches and dick like you were a favorite bitch of black bulls in the pen."

Daniel didn't disabuse Red of that notion. But Daniel didn't have much in the way of options. With a groan, he hauled himself up from the forest floor, pulled his briefs and shorts up, and struggled along behind Red back to the truck. Once inside the truck, Red handcuffed Daniel again to the handle of the passenger door, grinned at him, and said, "Too late to change your mind now, jailbait. Just remember when we get there, to follow my lead and not get any of the guys to notice you. You ain't exactly got an invitation from Brother Joseph."

Red pulled back onto the main road, but he drove for just a few more miles, nearly reaching the summit of the mountain, before slowing, taking a close look in all directions, and then quickly turning onto a narrow track that Daniel hadn't even seen was there until they were on it. There was barely enough width for the truck to manage, and Red drove quite slow. After about twenty minutes or so, Daniel couldn't help exclaim from surprise and fear when the truck's headlights picked out two thuggish-looking guys, bare-chested and in fatigue pants, and with rifles at the ready emerging from both sides of the road. Red brought the truck to a stop, but he must have been recognized, because the two men just saluted and faded into the forest again. Daniel had plenty of time to pick up that they both had cut bodies, probably the result of a military regimen.

Another ten minutes of slowly bouncing along a rocky track, they came to a ditch with a wire fence behind it and a wood-framed gate with wire inserts. Two more bare-chested and armed men in fatigues materialized on the other side of the gate.

Having eyeballed and verified the truck as "friend," they opened the gate and let Red drive through. After a few more minutes they entered an encampment with a bunch of tents and huts strewn around haphazardly under the overhanging tree canopy. There was a log cabin, though, and a couple of sheds and a wooden barn-like structure. Shadowy figures moved through the area and lurked in groups of two and three. To Daniel's eyes, they were all carrying rifles and were dressed in fatigues. All bare-chested with well-worked torsos. Red was probably the scrawniest of the lot, and he was in great shape too.

Lights were on in the house and the barn and in a few of the tents, but most of the area was in an eerie darkness. Red pulled over next to one of the sheds. A light beside the shed door was on, but when Red came around, opened the passenger door, and freed Daniel from the cuffs, he whispered, "No noise from you. Crouch down, and follow me in the shadows."

Red led Daniel to a hut with wood sides and a canvas tent covering and pushed him through the doorway. The hut was maybe nine feet by sixteen feet and was set up as both living room and bedroom with rickety furniture that must have been pilfered from a town dump. Red pushed Daniel down on a single bed with a brass-rung headboard, handcuffed him to the rungs, and gagged him with a red bandana. "Don't you make any noise now. If in you do, it will go bad for you. T'aint should be no outsiders in camp. I have to go unload the supplies from the truck, but then I'll be back to do you proper."

And when Red returned, he did, in fact, do Daniel "proper," roughly and in doggie style. Afterward he led Daniel out to take a leak against a tree, still gagged, but then brought him back to the bed, lay on his back, and made Daniel ride his cock until they'd both come. Daniel was still gagged and handcuffed to the headboard, when Red imprisoned him in his arms, the two men stretched out against each other, and went into a deep snore.

* * * *

Red held Daniel in his tent for five days before Daniel's presence was discovered. He was handcuffed for most of the time and gagged when Red wasn't there. Red was too menacing for Daniel to try to rouse attention, and, in truth, Daniel soon was more afraid of what was going on outside the tent in the encampment than inside.

Four times a day it appeared that those in the camp—all men that Daniel ever saw by peeking through a slit in the canvas beside the camp bed—were called together in assembly, where a man with a commanding voice that changed at will from smooth to harsh harangued them with a bullhorn. It didn't take Daniel long to figure out that this was some sort of antigovernment militia movement. The key word of the man's harangues—the man evidently being named Brother Joseph, as that was how he was answered in a chorus of Amens—was "smite." Quoting the Bible, Brother Joseph spoke of we "will smite the inhabitants of this city, both man and beast" and of the Lord declaring "I will smite them with the pestilence and disinherit them, and I will make of you a nation greater and mightier than they."

Brother Joseph left no doubt that the city and people to be smitten were Washington, D.C. and all forms of authority in the nation and that the nation these fanatics on the mountaintop were to form was their own, forced by arms and domestic terrorism.

It was also a little weird that all of the men Daniel could see through the slit in the canvas were chummy with each other—lots of close contact and arms around each other.

The man with the bullhorn didn't sound crazy—he sounded convincing and smooth as silk, but the words he was using, the concepts he was pushing, and the demands he was making on what this band of men was going to do certainly sounded crazy to Daniel. The man also left little doubt that this group of men were organized for action and had a name. Brother Joseph kept referring to them as the Men of Thunder, who would correct by force of arms and acts of violence the wrongs of the government that was sucking at the teat of the people and disregarding the Constitution left and right.

Still, when Daniel was up in the mountains, he was where Steve couldn't get at him. And, though he was being held prisoner, Red wasn't fucking him more than once a day, albeit roughly, and he was making sure that Daniel was fed and hydrated and that he was able to relieve himself—not in any civilized manner, but certainly not with less privilege than Red himself had, or anyone else in camp. The beatings had stopped when Daniel went completely docile for whatever Red demanded.

In fact, Daniel was finding the sex a little exciting. He was just beginning to look forward to Red returning to the tent after dark with the look of lust in his eyes. The first couple of times Red had punched Daniel into submission before uncuffing him from the headboard, pushing him on his back on the side of the bed, Daniel's head hanging over the opposite side, before using two handcuffs to bind Daniel's wrists to the bed frame on the side of the bed and then raising and spreading Daniel's legs for the deep thrust of Red's cock while he manipulated Daniel's cock like a gearshift. After Daniel had come before Red did, he'd move around to the other side of the bed, slide his cock into Daniel's mouth, and finish by creaming the younger man's face.

After those first few times, though, Red became less hurried and presented his cock for Daniel to suck before climbing up on the bed, covering Daniel's back, and fucking him doggy style.

Daniel made all of the sounds of satisfaction and praise for Red's equipment and prowess that would flatter and please the man.

On the fifth night, while Daniel was on all fours on the bed and Red was crouched over him, mining his channel deep, the door flap of the tent fluttered and one of the other men entered, did a double take, and then, after muttering, "Who the hell is that? He's not from the camp," the man hurriedly turned and left the tent, raising the alarm. Red pulled out of Daniel, quickly zipped his fatigued pants up, picked up his rifle, and slipped out of the tent.

Amidst the yelling going on outside the tent, Daniel heard muffled gunfire. There was quite a bit of gunfire going on up here in the area of the camp, but it had always been during the day, not at night. Some sort of silencers were used on the guns to mute the noise, though. What Daniel heard was more of a pop, pop, pop sound. Then silence. Then the tent flap was pushed aside and three men entered and gawked at Daniel. All of them had rifles at the ready. All of the rifles immediately were turned on Daniel.

It didn't take much imagination for Daniel to figure out that the man standing in the middle was Brother Joseph. He was older than Red and anyone else Daniel had spied as they entered the compound. His body was in just as good a shape, however. The other two men obviously were giving him deference. One of the other men was a scrawny backwoods kind of guy, There were so many of them that Daniel saw wandering around the compound when he and Red arrived at the camp. The other guy was a young, dark hunk, though. The obvious leader was well over six feet; bald, but with a salt-and-pepper beard and bushy eyebrows; solidly built, and with piercing blue eyes.