Enter the Sodomite: Book Two in the Ring of Sodom Trilogy

By Jack Brighton

Gomorrah is unique as a country, in that all the inhabitants are homosexual. And after centuries of selective breeding, promoting very desirable traits, most of the inhabitants are incredibly fine physical specimens. Not only do they look great, but the men have unusually high sex-drives, which their culture encourages to be fully expressed.
After a very eventful first day in the country, where those sex-drives were put to the test, Hunter Conway embarks on the mission he’s been set by Captain Wrath, the chief of police, while also taking part in the cultural exchange which brought him to Gomorrah. The hunky young anthropology student was asked to return a ring to its rightful owner – a very rare Ring of Sodom, which could spell trouble for the new outward looking government. The police want to know why this dangerous artefact has been requested. Time to make contact with the broodingly handsome Jocken Serp, who is something of an anomaly in this promiscuous society, as he’s playing rather hard to get.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Firm Hand Books
• Release date: Jun 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463982419

Jack Brighton

Jack Brighton is a British author who specialises in M/M erotica - most of which, but by no means all, falls into the category of BDSM - a way of life that he has rich experience of. There are romantic overtones in some of his work, but you tend to get what it says on the label. All the books fall under the banner 'Flaming Hot Gay BDSM' or 'Flaming Hot Gay Erotica', so don't expect anything else. But do expect them to be flaming hot, with plenty of storyline and character development. A dry sense of humour also features, and a very vivid imagination. He is best known for his 'Tales from The Wild Side' series, where that imagination runs riot.Jack was brought up in a mining community in the west of Scotland, took his degree at Stirling, did a year's post- graduate in Edinburgh, then moved south to London, where he taught for a few years before moving into the finance sector, based in The City. Many of his stories draw on this background - as a gay man trying to find himself in what was more often than not a hostile environment.Having given up the rat race, Jack became a full time writer in 2010. He now lives in Brighton with his long term partner.Jack has also written mainstream fiction under the pen name J. K. Brighton.

Book preview

Enter the Sodomite

Book Two in the Ring of Sodom Trilogy

By Jack Brighton

Copyright Jack Brighton, 2019

Published by Firm Hand Books at Smashwords

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This eBook is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store the material where it cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. As a piece of erotic fantasy where licence can be taken, certain scenes involve unprotected sex. This has been done to enhance the story.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

Was it a dream?

That’s what Hunter Conway wondered as the first trickle of consciousness came to him. It had to be a dream, as it was all too surreal. Things like that didn’t happen to an ordinary English lad.

Such amazingly raunchy and creative things with the most incredible specimens of men.

Hunter kept his eyes closed and tried to bring them back – conjure up the main protagonists in all their individual glory: Wrath, Krank and Bartok – three very different characters who surely could only exist in fantasy, as they were simply too good to be true. Admittedly, Hunter would only have chosen one for himself under normal circumstances – the other two being wrong for him in so many ways. But dreams have no respect for self-imposed boundaries or dogmatic suppositions. They delve into the depths of the complicated mind and challenge the dreamer with the intrigues they find, creating scenarios that would normally be avoided, and surprise by how thrilling the forbidden can be.

That was an uncomfortable notion.

But it wasn’t a dream.

It wasn’t his subconscious at mischievous play.

A smile crept onto Hunter’s waking face. He might be drowsy, still half-asleep, but there were sufficient clues pervading. The bed he was lying on was too comfortable to be his own. He was somewhere strange, but there was no cause for alarm. He felt snug and cocooned, and totally safe, like there was a guardian angel watching over him ensuring he would come to no harm. There were voices in the distance speaking a foreign language, and the sound of gentle breathing much closer at hand. Hunter registered a scent that was manly and comforting, along with warm air on the nape of his neck, and a luxurious texture grazing his back. With a mind that was still groggy, reluctant to rouse, Hunter rubbed against it, reviving happy memories.

Then suddenly he froze.

What the fuck was that!

An uncommonly large and extremely hard cock was the easy answer his alerted brain arrived at. It was riding the crack of Hunter’s ass, while a hand grabbed hold of his meaty right pec and gave the smooth muscular mass a grope.

Sorry! I couldn’t help it, said a voice from behind. Did I wake you?

Of course you did, grumbled Hunter, macho pride dictating he sounded annoyed. And not in a good way. That’s a hell of an alarm clock you’ve got back there, and I’d like you to turn it off now.

Hunter was given a soft kiss on the back of his shoulder. Okay. I’ll stop it ringing. But don’t be a spoilsport. Let me leave it in there. You know you can trust me, and… The hand on his pec moved slowly downward, over the ripped contours of his stomach, and arrived at another sizeable erection. …Well, you don’t seem to be minding too much. Is this what the English call a morning glory?

Yes, grumped Hunter, pumping at the fist that had formed around his shaft. I was having a lovely dream until you went and spoiled it. So what time is it? Have I over-slept? I normally do. I suppose everyone else is up and about.

There was a lingering lick from an obscenely long tongue. It’s almost ten o’clock, and of course the others are up and about. They have been for a while, with important things to attend to. I know we all stayed up really late, but Gomorrahen men don’t need much sleep. Four hours is more than enough. I would have got up as well, but it didn’t seem right to leave you on your own. It’s my job to protect you, and this seemed like the best way to do it.

Hunter couldn’t stop the chuckle which betrayed his happy state. That was very considerate of you, Officer Bartok.

My pleasure… Now don’t be in a rush to scramble away from me. We can have another ten minutes snuggling in bed. Then it’ll be time to get up and start our busy day.

Another busy day, thought Hunter, as he wallowed in the novelty of being spooned by a man. A cop no less, nine years his senior and butch as fuck – the type of bloke Hunter would normally avoid, but fate had thrown in his travelling path and brought them intimately together. A man whose magnificent cock was wedged in his crack – another novelty for an active gay lad who was still an anal virgin. A day ago Hunter would have forced Bartok away and given him a piece of his mind. But that was a day ago, before he’d come to Gomorrah. That was before Hunter had arrived in Gay Wonderland and his eyes had been opened to so many things.

What a day, Hunter thought, recalling the highlights. The most eventful day of his life by far. It was like a rollercoaster ride with its ups and down, turns and twists, loops and spins - an adrenaline rush of non-stop excitement that was scary at times but ever so thrilling.

Hunter was an anthropology student who had come to Gomorrah on a cultural exchange, hoping for fun and adventure in a country emerging from years of isolation – a country where homosexuality was the norm, and centuries of selective breeding had produced a male population of incredibly fine looking men with hyper-active sex drives. Gay Wonderland indeed! The only downside was an antiquated rule ingrained in the culture whereby age determined who topped who, thereby seriously limiting Hunter’s options, given that he was still a teenager, two weeks shy of his twentieth birthday. For a certified top who liked older men, it was unfortunate to say the least.

But that aside, it was still an incredible opportunity, which had been turned on its head only minutes after his arrival. Hunter’s sponsor, Professor Masterton, had visited Gomorrah many years before during a brief period under liberal government, and had formed a close friendship with a man called Conrad Serp. With trouble looming from the hard-line faction, Serp had asked Masterton to take care of a family heirloom – a ring, which Masterton had brought back to England. Conrad died a few years later, and with the borders reopened his son had asked for the ring’s return. Hunter had thought little of it when the favour was requested, but there was uproar when the ring was discovered at customs thanks to a bizarre twist of fate. It could have turned into a nightmare, and looked that way for a while. But the country’s top cop had an agenda, and with the help of two of his officers, he gave Hunter the most memorable day of his life, and the opportunity to continue the adventure. Gomorrah really was a gay wonderland, as long as you were on the right side of the law. Or even better, part of the law, secretly enlisted into a very select team.

Bartok! roared the man in charge, the awesome Captain Wrath. Get your cock out of his crack and kick his ass out of bed. You can show him where the shower is, then Krank will help him dress. We need to get down to business.

***

A Ring of Sodom! How the hell did you manage to get one of those? asked Bartok when he was finally let in on the secret.

Hunter couldn’t give an immediate reply. He was far too busy scoffing down food. It had been a whole day since he’d eaten anything other than semen, and he was absolutely famished. He’d already wolfed down a bowl of muesli with fresh fruits and yogurt, and was now tucking into an omelette with mushrooms and bacon on the side prepared by the multitalented Officer Krank, who seemed to know his way around Wrath’s kitchen. He knew his way around the bedroom as well, and had a variety of clothing conveniently stored there. Freshly showered with the eager help of Bartok, Hunter had been given a pair of tattered denim shorts to wear, unfastened at the top so his pubes were on show, along with his little red devil tattoo which cheerily laughed to the left of them. These were held up by black leather braces, which matched the boots and sunglasses he was to put on before leaving. The aim was to attract attention, and the skimpy outfit would show off Hunter’s hunky build to telling effect.

I’ll fill you in on the details later, answered Wrath on Hunter’s behalf. But it originated from a certain Conrad Serp, who was a breeding controller when the clinics were introduced in the mid-nineties. As you know, the ring is the symbol of the Sodomite sect, and they were a bunch of anarchists back in their heyday. I’ll be looking extensively into the man’s past. But if he was of the same mind-set, then there could be a whole heap of trouble.

What’s the big concern, boss? asked Bartok.

Think about it, said Wrath, then he helped everyone along. In the early days of the clinics, procedures might not have been as tight as they are now. If Serp was an anarchist, he could have messed around with the sperm donations and placed a time bomb in the breeding program. That generation of offspring are about to reach breeding age, so the explosion might happen soon, with some very unattractive and unhealthy results.

Shit! I see the problem, said Bartok. And what about the son. Do you seriously suspect he’s a member of a sect that was supposedly eradicated centuries ago? Do you think there are others?

I’m not sure, said Wrath. But Jocken Serp was only two years old when his father died. He’s the one who asked for the ring, so someone must have told him about it, and that was a dangerous piece of information to pass on to a young man at any age. Whoever it was must have been sure that Jocken wouldn’t report him. We need to find out what’s going on without alerting the public. If word gets out that a foreigner has brought a Ring of Sodom into Gomorrah, we could be facing an outcry and demands to reclose the borders. It’s a tricky situation we’re in the middle of. We have the ousted President Soldat and his hardliners on one side, looking for a means to get back into power, and the ring could do the trick; then on the other side, we might have a bunch of anarchists, possibly in powerful positions.

Bartok rose from the table, not a happy man. He stood behind Hunter, hands on both the youngster’s shoulders and glared at his boss who sat directly opposite, drinking black coffee. And these potential anarchists in powerful positions are likely to practice sodomy. Is that what you’re thinking? Or they would do if there was a young stud around who has no issues with breaking the golden rule and fucking an older bloke. That’s why you want Hunter to get a reputation for topping. You’re setting him up as a piece of bait!

Wrath didn’t look happy either. Insubordination was an alien concept. Sit down! he growled You’re supposed to protect him, not molly-coddle the lad. He wants to do it! So don’t get all moralistic on me.

Are you sure about this? asked Bartok, returning to his chair beside Hunter – his normal jovial face looking deadly serious.

Hunter was touched by the genuine concern from a man he’d taken a serious liking to. He abandoned the last part of his omelette and reached out to grip Bartok’s forearm. Yeah. I’m sure, he said, smiling at the cop. It’s either this or going back to England, and there’s no way I want to leave Gomorrah. You don’t want me to go either, do you?

No. Of course not, Bartok answered earnestly. Then the joviality was back on his face and he gave Hunter a wink Not until I’ve busted your precious cherry and fucked your brains out several times over. Then you can go back to England. But meanwhile, I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you. He kept his eye on him for a moment longer as Hunter resumed his feasting, then turned his attention back to Wrath. But won’t that cause a problem, boss? I can be discreet, but hardly invisible around the university.

The captain finished his coffee and gave a mighty stretch, pushing back his arms and puffing out an already massive hairy chest, which was adorned with a harness – the uniform of Gomorrahen policemen. Not really, he said. A young foreigner newly arrived in the country. It goes without saying that the police would keep an eye on him. And as luck would have it, Hunter has been given a better flat than originally allocated. You know the one. It’s in the same block as yours, so you’ll be able to keep a very close eye on him when at home. You’ll also be able to hear what’s going on when he has company and the presence of a cop might not be welcome, especially if a crime was being committed - sodomy for example.

A smile hit Bartok’s face, clearly liking the set up. Fair enough… So what about this Professor Dragor. Do you think he might be involved? He’s the one who set up the cultural exchange.

Wrath shook his head. "I wondered that as well, but the president has vouched for him. They’re very good friends and political allies. He assured me that Dragor can be trusted. I’ve already spoken to the professor, in fact. He’ll help where he can… So, listen up everyone. Here’s the plan