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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 10

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By Hunter Perez

As I stood in the pillory dreading the prospect of several extra hours added to my imprisonment, I tried to decipher why Nicky would ever consider proposing marriage to a screwball like Holmgren. Between the casual cruelty of his prankish behavior and his nonstop talking, I would imagine anyone who harbored romantic thoughts about Holmgren would eventually either turn homicidal or suicidal in having such a lunatic as a lover.

There wasn’t very much material for me to put together a portrait of what made Holmgren tick. The key to his character, I theorized, was that he remembered me from photos that Nicky copied from online. I wondered what kind of a person would have such a crisp recall of photos of a friend of a friend? Were my photos that stunning? I think he called one photo a “male model” shot, which no one ever said about me. Was he as obsessional as Nicky? I thought opposites attracted – perhaps not in this case.

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 09

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By Hunter Perez

I will admit that I was glad that Holmgren pulled down my pants so I could relieve myself – I enjoyed a long piss that helped to calm my nerves. Unfortunately, I wished that he stayed until I finished so he could pull my pants back up. As a result, I was now in the ridiculous position of having my head and hands locked in the pillory while my pants were down at my ankles.

If it had been a sunny day, I might have an idea of time by tracking the sun’s position in the sky. But it was overcast, and my notion of celestial timekeeping was sabotaged.

I tried to alleviate my discomfort and anxiety by calling up happy memories. I recalled Hendrik, a personal trainer that I dated for a while. Hendrik was Dutch with blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin and a superhero’s body – he had the slightest trace of a Dutch accent that I found very sexy, especially when he tried to pronounce non-English words. One weekend, we took a road trip to Atlantic City and spent the day walking along the Boardwalk while floating in and out the casinos. We stayed through dinner at a fancy restaurant and opted to remain overnight – we were able to get a top floor hotel room with a grand view of the Atlantic Ocean. Once in our room, we ordered champagne and oysters from room service and had the most splendid night.

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 08

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By Hunter Perez

The sergeant sat on the platform at the base of the pillory and gave me another of his toothy overbite smiles. “You know, I never truly appreciated this thing until you came along. Normally, I prefer throwing guys into solitary confinement – the whole out-of-sight / out-of-mind thing. But you really are sexy when locked in – you have a nice lean body and I like watching it wiggle behind those boards. Too bad Thomas Edison won’t be inventing the movie camera for another 20 years, otherwise we’d be getting a jump start on the bondage flick genre.”

At this point, I couldn’t tell whether the sergeant was trying to be funny to amuse me or to amuse himself. Between the soreness of having my head and wrists locked in the heavy pillory boards and the shock in learning that he is also a time traveler, I would have welcomed the notion of solitary confinement just to be away from this assault on my senses.

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 07

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By Hunter Perez

I imagine that being trapped in a pillory while being erotically teased by your dream lover can generate some carnal pleasures – I could be remember being aroused while watching some videos of hot guys in those types of bondage scenarios having fun with each other. Unfortunately, that was not my situation. There was no one to tickle my fancy – among other things in need of tickling – and the physical monotony of being forced into a slumped stationary pose with heavy boards controlling my head and hands quickly became stressful. But while I could tolerate the discomfort of being locked in an unnatural physical position, the prison sergeant’s presence added a new degree of emotional agony at the worst possible time.

I was baffled at his reaction upon viewing me – he clearly believed that he knew me, but that was obviously impossible unless I had a double running around in 1875. I hated to imagine which person he was mistaking me for – was I supposed to be a train robber or some other Butch Cassidy-type bad guy? Of course, claiming a bounty for the capture of such a miscreant could have excited him. But his agitation seemed more personal than professional. I recalled him saying something along the lines of “Oh no, not you” but quickly insisting he only knew of me and never met me.

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 06

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By Hunter Perez

I blinked myself out of slumber, but I was in a sorry state. The back of my head throbbed and my body felt cold and stiff. But once I began to regain my composure, I could see why I was cold and stiff – I was naked on a stone floor, with nary a thread to separate me from my surroundings.

Even though my eyes were open, I had trouble focusing. I thought there was someone in sitting on a desk looking down at me, but my vision was too blurred to make out who it was.

“Nicky?” I asked. “What kind of crazy jokes are you playing on me?”

The blurry figure didn’t say anything, and I rubbed my eyes trying to regain my sight.

“I’ve got the worst headache,” to the person I couldn’t see. “Can you get me a couple of Tylenol, please?”

“A couple of what?” responded the person in a low, dull male voice – I couldn’t tell if it was Nicky or someone else.

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 05

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By Hunter Perez

I spent about five minutes trying to convince myself not to panic – which was no mean feat, considering that I was locked in a jail cell in the middle of a derelict ghost town in the middle of the New Mexican desert by a law enforcement officer with more than few emotional problems. When my anxiety abated, I began to consider what would happen next.

I came to the immediate conclusion that Nicky was not going to leave me to die a slow death. For starters, he knew I had a phone with me – we already exchanged text messages – and I would be able to call 911 for help. Yet I hesitated to immediately place such a call because I was uncertain if this was an elaborate but unfunny prank on Nicky’s part. He obviously carried anger issues about my leaving him 10 years earlier, and maybe this was his warped idea of a temporary but determined comeuppance.

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 04

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By Hunter Perez

Now, why in the world didn’t I allow Nicky to uncuff me when he made the offer? Perhaps I was being noble – his fantasy of arresting me clearly meant a lot to him and maybe I didn’t want to hurt his feelings? Or maybe I was still aroused at the concept of being his handcuffed prisoner? I had never done this type of a scene and I found it to be fun. At least for the initial part of the trip.

But once we got off the highway and took the road to the ghost town, my arms became sore and my shoulders hurt. The erection that accompanied me at the start of the journey disappeared and ride became more onerous while driving across a road in serious need of paving.

The area we drove through was conspicuously absent of civilization. Granted, the desert landscapes were beautiful in their ochre austerity, but to this urban denizen the absence of people, places and things was unsettling.  And as a real estate professional, the location raised a host of questions.

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 03

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By Hunter Perez

“Are you comfortable back there?” Nicky asked through the mesh separating the front of the police car from the back.

“Not really,” I responded. “I assume I’m not supposed to be.”

“You got that right,” he laughed.

I wasn’t quite certain how I should be feeling. Sitting with arms handcuffed behind your back creates a multiple number of issues, which are not helped by being nearly immobilized with a tight seatbelt. I kept shifting sideways and trying to inch forward, but I could never find the right position where I didn’t feel pressure in some part of my body.

Part of me was angry at the stupidity of thinking with my dick – whatever pleasure that was sparked by allowing myself to be handcuffed was erased by the discomfort of my inability to get into a relaxed position.

Yet at the same time, part of me was aroused by the absurdity of the situation. Nicky turned into a truly gorgeous specimen of masculinity, made all the more exciting by his law enforcement authority. Being his prisoner, if only for a brief period of amusement, created a sense of excitement that was truly arousing – perhaps too arousing, as I was also dealing with an erection pushing against my jeans.

I remembered the time back in college when Nicky had me handcuff him so he could service me while I controlled him. I wondered if that was what he had in mind by turning tables in this manner. I then began to recall some stories I read by the writer Joshua Ryan where guys get tricked by sexy cops and correctional officers into getting arrested and sent to prison – those stories seemed so wild in concept, but now I could see how someone could fall victim to such chicanery.

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