Asami Ryuichi has been captured, taken hostage by the same North Koreans he had been in the middle of negotiating with when a huge fight had broken out, the itchy, nervous leader of their group having grown too angry and frustrated to continue proceedings. He knew he was being treated like some greenhorn, like a fool after his generous offer had been laughed at so dismissively. Asami's smug fucking face telling him to come back in a hundred years or so, to try again then so the Korean had drawn his gun suddenly, pointing it point blank straight at the mans forehead from not even a metre away but still he remained impassive, as unaffected as a mighty lion would be when faced with a mosquito. It fucking irked him to no end.
So they had fought, luckily the bastard Asami's men not putting up too much of a fight when Asami for some reason had stood them down with a small smirk. The Korean would like to think it's because the man had finally realised the severity of the situation. That he was finally being taken seriously.
But he's starting to wonder now though, if that had been the case.
The Japanese crime lord has been tied to a chair for hours, maybe days and subjected to the worst, most inhuman kind of torture. The Korean doesn't know that Asami knows exactly how long though, the man able to keep track from how the shadows are cast by the sunlight under the door of his cold dark cell. It's been two days and eleven hours.
They had beat him at first, dozens of guys all swarming round with bats and chains and knives. Kicking and punching and swiping him to the ground but still the man wouldn't break, wouldn't cry out to beg for his worthless life like so many before him. Nope. He was looking up at them from his relaxed, reclined position on the floor with a mild pity, a vague disdain and a faint amusement. Ok, they had thought. Change of tactic.
They had bound him tightly to a chair then after removing his watch, phone and other personal effects. Stripping his clothes completely though maybe loosing just some of their whole menacing gangster aura thing when they had balked and blushed at seeing the sheer fucking size of the mans cock when it was freed, more than a few of them shifting uncomfortably from an unwanted reaction and interest of their own, twitching in their pants as their awed yet intimidated eyes took it all in, the impressive penis nestled on top of manly and mighty sized balls. Those fucking balls hanging there like two heavy golden globes and still allowing the Jap to assert his dominance over any lesser man. Over all he surveyed and by this point, the nonchalance demonstrated there by the prisoner was growing into nothing short of infuriating. It was time to break this fucker down.
With an order they had all left the room, reconvening to talk torture and to talk about what the fuck they actually wanted out of this. Why they had taken him in the first place. To break the man? To assert their own dominance and masculinity and gain business and goods in return? Hell, they had decided. Whatever they do is fine, as long as they can wipe that smug fucking look off his damn face. Once and for all.
So next in the gangs arsenal came the water torture in the cold, cold room, where they had forced water down his throat and into his stomach with a dirty hose pipe, all gathered around laughing and eagerly watching as they expected the man to choke, splutter, to scream and cry and finally break but he had not. He only selectively hydrated himself, choosing what to take into his stomach and any surplus water merely being expelled from his mouth in a steady stream which did not to them, make any fucking sense at all and they all watched in disbelief. Struck by the mere thought of someone having such command over their body. Their vessel. Oh no, they had not known about Asami Ryuichi's legendary and outstanding breath control. His wrought iron constitution.
They upped the ante at that. They wanted blood, to break bones.
The strongest of them lurked to the back of the room while the next moments unfolded before him, observing how his colleagues untied one of Asami Ryuichi's arms, how the man himself expectantly held it out for who and whatever they had planned and the giant had stepped forward. Twisting the Arm back in what should have been a painful angle, so the back of the mans fingers were resting against the hairline low on his neck. Pushing and pushing on the thick, twisted arm until the pain should have been intolerable.
The Korean had whispered menacingly into the Japs ear then, telling him to kiss good-bye to his sanity, to savour these last few minutes because soon, he'll be begging the man to stop - he'll be begging for mercy.
The Korean yanked Asami's arm back down soon after. Taking the first quite frankly, elegant and beautiful finger in his hand, a cute little pinky. Making sure to maintain eye contact with Asami as he twisted it back also, bent it as far as his own strength would allow and where he expected to hear the usual crack, the delightful and sickening snap of the many delicate tendons and bones breaking and the cry of pain that would usually ensue immediately after. But instead there was nothing, nothing but the faint sound of the blowing Air-con.
He had tried again, bending and pulling and twisting at the fingers, much like a child trying to pry open a jar of Strawberry jam but he was still met with nothing but silence, Asami looking at him with a knowing and self satisfied smile and the Korean had paused then to scratch his head in thought before trying again, his muscles bulging and veins throbbing over taught biceps before he had to stop again to catch his breath, wondering just how the hell this kind of thing could happen. How a mans fingers could possess all the power, no. More power than the Korean goliath have in his whole body.
He hung his head in shame for a moment, calling in his colleagues to help him move the chair.
Asami breathed a long sigh of relief at the room finally being empty, all these little flies flitting about him had him irritable, feeling much like a kingly Lion swatting away pesky Hyenas as he basks in the sun on the great plains of Africa. The man had frankly been bored at the lack of challenge from the amusing troupe and he had regret somewhat going along with this on a whim, the unprofessionalism displayed by the gang during the entire thing had him chuckling to himself for everyone knows that if you're going to torture someone you must know their weaknesses first. Or at least know how to sniff them out.
He had adjusted in no time to his new position, arms yes a little uncomfortable but nothing he couldn't overcome with a little meditation. The gangsters seriously underestimating Asami Ryuichi's infallible mind. His famously unbreakable focus and venerable sense of self discipline.
He takes a deep breath, muscles relaxing onto his bindings and against the chair frame and freezing cold floor where he's been for some time now on his back, some two days, nine hours and forty minutes or so. Give or take a few seconds. Ever since they had seemingly given up direct methods and had decided to wait it out, to break him the old fashioned way. Waiting for him to give into hunger, thirst, needing to urinate or defecate until he had to soil himself, humiliating himself.
He has not though, given into to these mere mortal urges. These things where if he had not learned to overcome through strict and rigorous self discipline, would have no business being at the very top of the food chain of the worlds black market. Of perhaps the entire underworld its self.
With the current technique employed by the group, the Chinese water torture he's at the moment being subjected to with the constant yet inconsistent drip at his forehead, the pressure and relentless discomfort enough to drive anyone else to insanity and to breaking point only has him sinking into sleep. The man assessing that the group are merely waiting it out now and watching him through the four security cameras dotted around the room, waiting for him to show any signs of well, anything.
He finds though that he can't see it in him to indulge them, instead deciding to catch up on the sleep he has been going without for so long, maybe ever since a certain little wildcat jumped off a roof and into his life. Asami far too happy to ride that ass all night long rather than do things as mundane as sleeping. Without Akihito around though, he supposes he may as well...
He yawns, widely.
He comes to, sat in the middle of the same cold room, the single lightbulb hanging at its centre casting a stark light over the grim floor and walls, him naked and still bound so tightly to the small rickety chair.
All of a sudden the door swings open, swift footsteps clip clopping on the grey cement floor, shiny knee high riding boots taking quick but measured steps towards the prisoner and a young man in well fitted, revealing dress greens stops before him, riding crop hitting down in an open palm as the partially hidden face takes on a look of fierce satisfaction. Luscious pink lips turned up in a wry smirk. Eyes though, hidden by a decorated Sergeant Major's hat.
The figure unbuttons the dress green jacket, it falling open easily to reveal a perfectly toned and slender yet still masculine body. Tender, soft pink nipples already reacting to the cool air. The riding trousers are cut perfectly, deliciously low at the adonis belt revealing a faint golden trail of lightly coloured hair and Asami recalls a story he had been told as a child, an old Irish tale about a crock of gold at the end of a rainbow.
The svelte figure takes his time, slowly pacing from side to side and observing his prey, the Asami Ryuichi who has evaded him for far too long and who is finally at his mercy. Finally bound and sitting before him, though it would be better is her were kneeling. Much better.
The riding crop extends out, lifting Asami's chin as the other small gloved hand finally reaches up to remove the hat. Revealing a face that he knows so well, revealing none other than Takaba Akihito.
"Do you know how long I've waited for this. Asami? How long I've waited to bring you to your knees?"
The man looks back at the boy darkly, swirling pools of lava speaking volumes even if his mouth does not. He will bow to none, no one. Ever.
"Oh? Still going to play it like that huh? Well Asami, we'll see how long you can keep that up…"
He shouts behind him, whip swishing through the air and Asami immediately goes on high alert now, expecting an imminent attack. It seems the enemy knows his one true weakness after all. It seems he had been a fool all this time. That they had the foresight to send Akihito into his arms willingly all those months ago, that it had all been a lie, right from the beginning. That Akihito himself is the enemy. A worthy and cunning enemy.
Betrayal has never looked so fuckable.
Marching, well co-orndinated footsteps echo in the corridor this time, what sounds like two identical sets which ring out menacingly before the door busts open once more, two more young men entering the room in quick succession and this time in army fatigues. Two more Takaba Akihito's.
"Asami mark my words, you will surrender to me. Sooner or later…"
And with that he orders the two Akihito's forward, both of them dropping to their knees at the prisoners feet as the sergeant major orders them to break the man with delicious torture, to pleasure him until he can't take it anymore and they both obey without hesitation. Two heads of wild hazel hair leaning in until warm, moist lips make contact with scorching skin. The pair of Takaba's little tongues lapping at his thighs, the soft juncture between those and his balls, careful not to touch his rapidly hardening member for now though.
Small hands caress his stomach and his chest as the lips assaulting his senses eventually give way to sharp teeth that tug at his balls, the boys' plump cheeks now rubbing against his rigid cock as they delve into the tantalising V shape of Asami's pelvis cast by his parted legs, still both tied tightly to the chair.
His muscular thighs are greedily teased with fingertips and the two bodies that are being pressed closely to his shins and knees. The two identical Takaba's pushing at each others' fair shoulders and growling between themselves as they both fight for better access to Asami, fighting to bring the man even more pleasure as their lips and tongues come into constant contact as they finally lather his cock with attention, the half lidded lust and red cheeks mesmerising to the beast and his nostrils flare. The first drops of pre-come glistening at the tip.
The first Takaba Akihito steps forward, his uniform jacket being dropped to the floor as he regards the two Takabas at Asami's feet. The whip being beaten down again in his palm as he comes to a stop just behind them.
"Stand down men, I'll show you how it's done."
Without a word the two panting young soldiers back off slightly, the head Takaba rounding on his prey slowly with the low cut khaki jodhpurs betraying perfectly his state of arousal as his mischievous eyes take in Asami's engorged member, the way the man's chest rises and falls a little more rapidly than usual and how his eyes promise revenge most sweet.
"Akihito, you know this is futile."
"Oh really? Well, lets see how long that smug attitude lasts…"
Like lightening the whip strikes down repeatedly over taught muscles, Asami's chest immediately lighting up with a series of small red welts, his cock twitching in appreciation which Takaba catches in his sharp gaze. A heavy breath the boy's only response before he moves out of Asami's line of sight, his back receiving the same treatment and being struck mercilessly again with the whip in Akihito's hand.
A fluttering breeze plays over his neck and the presence at his back makes itself known, the whip held in two hands now descending over his head to pull back suddenly, hard against his chest and Akhitio's lips play along the shell of Asami's ear, breathing in the mans scent and he can't help but whimper, the mans tantalisingly stimulating musk of arousal hanging heavily in the air. The scent of his sex.
The voice whispers into his ear after some time, Akihito's breathless voice punctuated now and again with small moans and his hands throw the whip to the side completely to instead clutch at the mans chest and in his hair. Asami's head craning back to meet watery green eyes, clouded with need. And he can tell Akihito is already swaying his hips.
"Get ready Asami. You'll be begging me for mercy before the end. Begging me to let you come-"
He claims the mans mouth fearlessly, the battle for dominance hard fought but easily won as Asami's tongue is just too much for Akihito to contend against and he melts into the kiss, his own tongue being drawn into the mans mouth and sucked on hard. A trail of saliva joining the two after they part.
Akihito rips himself away and walks back into the mans line of vision, the captured crime lord pleased to see a tell tale dark patch at the crotch of the Sergeant Major's dress pants. His chest heaving. His eyes watery with lust.
"Tut, tut. You've dirtied your uniform Sergeant Major, just look at you..."
The only one left standing in the room orders Asami and the two other Takaba's to watch him as he strips his remaining clothes, straddling Asami's lap only when he's completely naked as the others nuzzle Asami's arms and neck and reach up to kiss him also. The senior officer growing immediately jealous at sharing his prey with anyone.
The Sergeant Major reaches out with a cute snarl, ripping both his deputies flimsy khaki shirts open to reveal their milky coloured chests which they immediately press into Asami's side to brush their sensitised nipples desperately against his naked biceps, three sets of hands raking over the mans body hungrily as the head Akihito shifts his hips forward until Asami's impressive member is pressing against his balls and erect cock and he rolls over the length, the teasing pressure driving Akihito forward and causing him to also fight without mercy for the prisoners lips. The three Akihito's kissing viscously, each battling each other for Asami's attention which he is only too happy to lavish on all three. As happy as watching them pleasuring each other.
"Akihito, let me see you. Let me see you opening yourself up for me."
They all shudder in response to the sensual command, the two partially clothed Takaba's reaching up to Asami's mouth one by one and inserting an index and middle finger each. Him sucking and licking them until they're fully coated with warm saliva so they can both ready their hands at their counterpart's puckered pink entrance. The boy lifting his hips and arching forward, allowing greater access for the eager fingers and panting into Asami's mouth.
"Ah! Asami, I'll never let you go - never-!"
The man bucks his hips up aggressively, laughing darkly as he ruts up into Akihito's greedy hole along with the four slender fingers that had been stretching him open. The boy screaming at the impossibly full feeling, a borderline tearing sensation that makes him open his eyes wide, unseeing and unhearing as the other two Takaba's withdraw their fingers and untie Asami in unison.
"Us too Asami…" They say in adorably whiny voices, rubbing their half naked bodies up against the man as the first Akihito bops up and down happily on his lap. Small fair hands rubbing his sweat slicked chest. "…Fuck us too!"
His arms shoot out from where they had been tied behind him, finally freed and finally able to give his boys' the attention they so obviously crave, holding the two Takabas' close while he kisses them, drawing the third Takaba into it easily with a hand carded through his soft head of hair and they all meet in a frenzied feast of tongues and lips and teeth. Moaning and gasping and only parting when all three Akihito's are gasping for air, one cute little ass already clenching excitedly around his cock.
"It's alright, my adorable Akihito's. There's quite enough of me for all of you."
A series of loud bangs echo around the vast underground structure, suited Japanese men marching in by the dozens and quickly shutting down any chances of retaliation by the North Korean gang. Wiping them out without mercy.
It had taken a surprisingly long time to find them, the group being so small and so unknown that information on them had been scarce and for once Kirishima thinks (with no small amount of exasperation and amusement) that they have a certain slippery, troublesome and foolhardy photographer to thank for finding Asami Ryuichi. The irony of it almost makes him smile.
But now Kirishima storms ahead, with the most elite of the team such as Suoh and a few select others and they bust down the second to last set of doors to find what they had expected. The gangs head and his second in command surrounded by beer cans and tissues, both sat watching four small grainy screens with their heads nodding with fatigue until they hear the door burst open and they turn in alarm. The bespectacled guard not even pausing though before he raises his gun, a swift bullet hitting each of them square between the eyes.
Next he shoots out the screens and orders the men to retreat, waiting until they are out of the vicinity completely before he sweeps to the corner of the room to collect his respected employers clothes, them being draped haphazardly over a small chair so he takes his time in folding them correctly and drapes them with care over his arm in the order Asami-sama will need them, of course.
He opens the door to the cold, dark room and steps across the threshold. Making his way over to the endlessly dripping tap and filthy drain where Asami lay clearly sleeping and he's relieved to see that while the crime lord seems to have a few bruises and cuts, he seems absolutely fine otherwise. Nothing less from his esteemed boss.
The secretary reaches the man and squats down, setting the clothes on his lap so he can flip his pocket knife open and cut through the bindings, prying them away from Asami and he goes to offer the man a hand, to shake him awake but he falters for a moment. Seeing the most contented, peaceful smile upon the mans face and knowing that he has been run ragged for months, ever since that young photographer had caught him in his viewfinder so he relents, deciding that he'll come back in thirty minutes or so as after all, theres no harm in letting the man dream, just a little longer.