CAMP CONVERSION Part 5 Written by Stripscott based on a true account by Nivram
The next ten minutes were something I had never expected to endure; never even anticipated happening in the short span of my young life. Not even the remotest pornographic fantasy of mine had ever included having my genitals groped, pulled, prodded, rubbed, squeezed and tugged by four aggressive males who were intent upon making my cock perform one of its primary duties: that of delivering spunk through the hole in the tip.
Being treated in such a way was bad enough, never having had anyone's hands other than a doctor's touch such a private area since the days when I had learnt bathroom skills and had been allowed to perform unaccompanied, but perhaps it was made even worse by my being helpless to prevent it and the fact that I was unable to see what was happening. Hands interfered with my cock and balls unseen on the other side of the upturned boat and no amount of begging and pleading on my part registered for any mercy or sympathy.
Maybe the pleading was ambivalent, because I was torn between two major desires. I desperately did not want to be made to shoot spunk whilst these four manipulated me and watched my cock jerk and spasm. Equally, I did not wish to endure the threatened fifteen minute spanking which would be the result of my dick failing to perform in the required manner. Did I pray to retain some vestige of privacy or did I think of something which would guarantee a show for the boys and protection for my dangerously exposed and upturned bum.
Of course I knew how to get myself off alone; I had been doing it for years. And I also knew that the attempts my three molesters were making were as unlikely to make me demonstrate the quantity of cum-production my balls could achieve as they were likely to produce a bluebird from my ass. After five minutes of anguish and mental torture, I realised that the decision had already been made for me.
None of the four wanted me to cum yet, as they desired the excuse (as if they needed it!) to spank my vulnerable bottom. The expression of the intent to make me cum for their viewing pleasure was no more than an opportunity to inflict humiliation and pain to recently cock and the balls which accompanied it. They were certainly adept at inflicting pain.
"Oh shit! No! Please... please don't... it hurts... oh, my balls... I can't... oh hell, guys, please stop. No more, I beg you, no more..."
But such pleas were totally disregarded. My stiff dick was pulled away from the boat where it rested once engorged. Releasing it meant it slapped painfully back against the wooden hull. My balls were twisted and squeezed repeatedly whilst my ball-sack itself was pinched and scratched. There was no foreskin to deny them easy access to my cock-head which I felt being fingered, nipped and rubbed harshly. My piss-slit was squeezed open and in petrified horror I felt something probe at the entrance, but, to my relief, nothing really entered.
My shaft, such as it was, was rubbed almost continually, with special attention being paid to the usually sensitive spot just below the head which, in my position was so readily available. This might have been enough to prompt the production of semen and the convulsion of my dick to shoot spunk for them, but the bursts of pain from all the other attention ensured that the height of ecstasy was never reached. Indeed, quite the contrary. I was never in danger of demonstrating my manly abilities.
I know that I must have leaked some pre-cum because I could occasionally feel it being smoothed over my dick-head and even along my shaft, but this overture wasn't going to be enough to save me from the further pain to come to be inflicted on another area of my firmly trussed-up body.
I don't know who was keeping a check on the time, if anybody, but it seemed like for ever had had to pass before Dan said, "Time's up. He's hasn't succeeded in delivering anything for us so now he'll get the punishment which is the price of failure."
"No! Please don't! I can produce... you know... but I need time. Oh god, don't spank me. I haven't had a spanking for years. I'm too old... Come on, guys. It's a joke, right? Let me go now. I promise... I promise I won't tell anybody... not a single soul. Untie me now, please. No more... please... please?"
"Who's going to carry out the punishment?" That was John's voice.
"Let's all do it," suggested Mike. "My palm's just itching to whack that lily-white butt and turn it red."
"Hand warm-ups first," said Dan, "but then there's something else."
I heard him step away from the group behind me and then he moved into my peripheral vision going to the side of the boathouse. He reached for something and turned around with it in his hands. It was a short paddle for one of the canoes and he hefted it up before swinging it down in a wide curve. My fear grew as I realised that my bare butt was intended to be at the end of such another swing.
"No Dan! Oh no! Oh please... stop this. You can't... you can't... oh god HEELP. Please somebody... anybody... save me. No! I don't want to be beaten. What have I done to deserve this? Please let me go... no one... I won't tell anyone..."
"Oh, shut him up somebody," Dan exclaimed and, within seconds, something, I think it was my own underpants, was shoved deep into my mouth. I continued to moan and mumble for a while until the first blow landed. Then I tried to yell.
They didn't start off lightly. They were going for it right from the off. A meaty jock hand swung violently against my unprotected bum. I heard the sound off the flesh-on-flesh sound moments before I felt the pain erupt from the contact point. I think I felt every minute detail of that hand and every point of it sent messages of pain along my nerve receptors to my brain. My butt seemed to explode in pure fiery agony and I strained against my bonds as never so far. That first blow was out of someone else's worst nightmare, but it was happening to me. I couldn't stand it, but I'd been promised at least fifteen minutes of such unbelievable treatment.
Another, similar blow landed; a different direction, a different hand, but with the same agonising result. I squealed uselessly into my gag before the third hand whacked down upon my unresisting, but so responsive flesh. I jerked again and tried in vain to summon help, protection mercy, but all I heard in reply was the laughter from four young camp counsellors who were enjoying some unexpected late-night fun with a toy who had presented himself to them on a plate.
As the blows continued to rain down, never diminishing in strength or ferocity, a part of my mind which wasn't fully taken up with registering the insufferable abuse which my defenceless butt was receiving, heard the thrill in the voices of those assaulting me. They were discovering the sexual excitement of inflicting exceptional pain on the body of other person who is unable to resist. Each blow, and the consequent reddening of my upturned ass, was a stimulus aiding the engorgement of their symbols of masculinity. In short, they were getting off on what they were doing to me.
To say I cried would be an understatement. I helplessly wept as if each smack forced more tears to jerk from my eyes. My cheeks ran with salty fluids which soaked into my gag and dripped to the boathouse floor. My throat tried to scream and sob at the same time causing me to choke, but even this did not deter my assailants.
I know the paddle came into use eventually, but my bum was a place of such intense agony that the change barely registered. It defined itself as a blow to both cheeks at once and spread over a wider area. It was, indeed, more painful, but, by that time, pain had become relative.
I'll never know whether they stuck to the expressed fifteen minutes, but the abuse seemed to go on for a lot longer. I do know that, long before they stopped, I was physically exhausted from the jerking, the crying and the restrained screaming. If they had untied me the moment they stopped beating me, I could not have moved, let alone run away. The ropes had chaffed at my wrists and ankles and everything in the world seemed to be just one big blur of pain.
However, stop they did, eventually. Again, I'm not sure that I was aware of when the final blow fell because pain was rampant and all ran together to one large mass of throbbing, aching agony. I just slowly became aware that it had ceased to get worse; at the same time I also became aware of the very heavy breathing behind me. Clearly I wasn't the only one to have been exhausted by the recent strenuous activity. My four young torturers must have actually built up a sweat.
I did hear the wooden paddle clatter to the floor as Dan dropped it and managed to hope amid the pain that it would now stay where it was.
"Look at that. I think we've made it glow." Mike's voice.
"Now that's scarlet," added Al. "You could definitely use that on a colour chart for scarlet."
"You know what?" John said thoughtfully. "I think red must turn me on. I'm feeling so horny. Looks like your three dicks are hard from the same thing."
"Yeah," agreed Mike. "And I think I need to do something about it."
There was movement and suddenly the three of them appeared in front of me. Indeed, they were each sporting an extremely impressive hard-on, pointing accusing at me as if I were to blame for their state of extreme erection.
Dan reached forward and ran his fingers down my cheeks through the tracks left by my tears.
"A treat for the cry-baby," he said. "Is your bum really on fire now?"
After a pause, I nodded my head miserably. I'd thought of not responding, but decided if I didn't antagonise them, they might just let me go.
"Oh dear." Mock sympathy. "Well, perhaps Mike and Al can help cool those poor red cheeks down. They need somewhere to deposit that spunk that's been built up in their balls through spanking a naughty boy. Why don't we get them to squirt it over your so very rosy cheeks?"
"Good idea," Al responded enthusiastically. "And where are you going to blow your load?"
"Oh, I think John and I'll aim for this pair of salty cheeks right here," Dan replied airily. "Might improve his complexion."
I wanted to protest. I know I should have protested, or tried to protest even though my mouth was still filled with gag, but I just didn't have the energy right then. I knew I couldn't stop them and I wanted to beg them to leave me alone. I wanted to tell them they'd done enough; that I'd had enough. But there was no voice. And very little will-power. I'd got their spunk in my body; now I'd be bathed in it.
Dan had already started stroking his full eight inches of man meat with its tip inches from my nose. John imitated him with his slightly less impressive, but nonetheless rampant, dick whilst Al and Mike disappeared from view, only for me to feel them slapping their rigid hardnesses against my sore ass, reawakening the flashes of pain.
They continued to rub the heads of their eager young dicks over the ravages of my ass whilst they worked themselves up to ejaculation. Dan, his slit oozing pre-cum, wiped the tip all over my face: my forehead, eyes, nose cheeks, lips, chin and even my ears.
At first his stroking was regular and even, almost deliberate, but, as he became more aroused and worked himself closer to his moment of extreme pleasure, his fist became faster and more erratic. His breathing grew heavier and laboured and his chest heaved with effort. John's pace matched Dan's almost stroke for stroke.
From the sounds behind me and the energetic rubbing of cocks on ass, I knew that all four were keeping pace with each other and were likely to deliver their offerings simultaneously.
I believe they did. A quartet of gasping frenetic youths virtually announced the onset of orgasm and I felt warm splashes on my sore butt at almost the same moment as I watched Dan's slit open up, as if in slow motion, and deliver the first rope of thick, white cum which landed first on one cheek and then crossed my nose to the other. A spurt from John, no less intense, hit just above my eyes and dribbled down. I saw a second load shoot out from Dan's thrusting member and felt it land partly on my lips and partly on my chin before my eyes closed to protect them from the goo running down my face. I only felt the rest of the splashes land on various parts of my face.
Then hands were smearing sticky spunk over my ravaged ass-cheeks and fingers rubbed a similar substance all over my unresisting face. Now, I felt marked. Now I was their territory. By this very act they had declared that I belonged to them. And I hadn't been able to raise a finger to prevent it.
There was a long pause as breathing returned to normal. I dared to hope that it was all over, that I'd soon feel the ropes slackening, be able to ease off the canoe's hull, gather my scattered clothes and slink back to camp. I mentally used the word slink because I already knew I couldn't tell anyone what had happened. Despite my wanting the four of them to pay the penalty for their actions, I could never endure the humiliation of revealing to anyone what had happened to me that night. To have others looking at me and knowing what I'd had to endure was totally beyond consideration.
Then I felt a hand on my dick and I knew it wasn't over.
"He hasn't cum yet," murmured Al. "We've got to make him cum too, haven't we? Only fair."
"And then," added that insatiably randy sod Mike, "Dan said we get to fuck him all over again. I think it's my turn to go first."
To be continued... Author: Stripscott Email: gjd18br@aol.com