Cousins Take Charge
Category – gay authoritarian – teen (legal age), role reversal, bondage, discipline, `forced' exercise,
Chapter Eleven
Even when the twins are hugging him on a groundsheet, rubbing some Lidocaine numbing cream into his aching body, Ben's eyes are semi-vacant; windows into a similarly-confused brain endeavouring to process the day's activities. His cousins seem aware of this, concentrating on soothing him physically, letting him react physically, without engaging him in conversation.
And it isn't long before he is responding physically. It's been three days since he's been allowed a proper orgasm – an epoch for an athletic nineteen-year-old! And the Lidocaine has dulled the initial hurt so that rubbing the welts sends a delicious pleasure-pain stimulus to his growing erection.
Now the twins are pinching the weals! Ben gasps, catches his lower lip between his teeth, whimpers. But the whimpers aren't quite expressions of pain. Sure, it hurts, but every time the twins pinch, his dick bobs, stiffens.
"Oh please, please" he whispers.
"Please what, Ben. What do you want?" the twins whisper back.
He doesn't know! His exhausted brain is not functioning at the ego level at all.
The twins are pinching his welted nipples now – fuck that hurts so gooooooood! He moans, writhes, abs clenching. His aching arms lift as though to ward off the twins, drop helplessly back – deep inside, confusingly, his body is saying he wants the pain.
Rick moves a hand to the throbbing erection. There are welts here as well!
Rick pinches one...
Ben's chest arches, head drops back, eyes close, mouth widens as a guttural yearning sob struggles up from his throat. A high-pitched "y-yesssssssss" trembles out.
Rick pinches again, while Rad is licking those sore nips. The spasming body jerks, moans. Rick's finger works down past the balls, the perineum – slides into the ass, as he sucks the welted erection.
Staccato whines at a higher pitch, body vibrating, hand fluttering around Rick's invading finger, whispered conversation starts.
"Does our slaveboy want to cum?"
"O-o-oh yesssssssssss."
"Slaveboys don't deserve to cum, they have to earn it – is our slaveboy prepared to earn it?"
"Yessssssssss."
"Our slaveboy has to earn his cum through pain – is he ready for that?"
"O-o-o-oh yessssssssss – give him pain, he needs the painnnn, he neeeeeeeeeds it, lotts of painnnnnnn."
Rad nods to Rick who goes to prepare the garage, Rad staying to keep Ben on the edge, needy, desperate, vulnerable, suggestible, malleable...
Now all three are in the garage, Ben poised knees bent to keep the head of his dick in a ring fastened to a block on the workbench. Behind him, a portable workhorse has clamped to it an angled broomstick ending in a rubber dildo. A strange dildo – a small finger' at the top, supported by a small ball, then successively larger balls all the way down. Currently, the finger' is inside Ben's ass, his hole intuitively `working' the rubber, clenching and relaxing.
His forearms are X-crossed behind his shoulder blades, cord tied to right wrist, running over left shoulder – to a clover clamp on left nipple; with mirror arrangement for left wrist. Ben had watched as Rad had plumped up his welted nipple with efficient thumb and forefinger, pinching gently, eliciting a hum of hurt-pleasure. Then had watched as the jaws of the clamp closed slowly, slowly, pinching, grabbing the pert expectant flesh, squeezing it so that it overflowed the jaws.
It closed shut! It should hurt! It did hurt – but, oh shit, how much more did it make him want-to-cum want-to-cum! When Rick started doing the same on his right, he was already mewing, pleading. Pleading for what? More pain? More pleasure? Ben was losing sight of which was which...
In front of the ring on the bench are suspended horizontally two candles, in line with the expected direction of travel of Ben's dick as he thrusts it through the ring.
Rick grasps that throbbing dick with one hand, holding the ballsac tight with the other, while Rad gently nudges forward the portable workhorse.
Ben trembles as he feels his anus being forced open by the first small ball – and then snap closed as the ball is fully inside him. He might have thrust forward to escape, but Rick has too firm a hold on his balls.
Instead Ben moans, shakes, enjoying the rub of the ring round his glans.
But the twins want more. Rad nudges the workhorse once more, the second, slightly larger, ball pushing, stretching Ben's tight hole. He mews – not quite in protest, but certainly in surprise at this new sensation. Nudge, stretch, nudge, stre-e-e-e-etch – and the second ball is fully in! Ben trembles again.
"OK, Ben, push forward through the ring now."
Obediently, Ben starts thrusting – and comes up short, finding that his anus is resisting him, fastened round the second ball.
Slap on welted butt-cheek.
"C'mon, Ben, earn that cum!"
The naked hairless youth thrusts harder – and the ball pops out as he grunts – thrusts again, and the smallest ball pops out, leaving just the rubber finger inside him. Rick pulls back on the balls, and Ben's groin responds, impaling the anus back on the smallest and next larger balls again.
The twins rock him back and forth. Ben finds that the balls popping out of his ass provide just as much, or even more, stimulation as when they go in. Each time he thrusts, `pop, pop' go the balls, and the eroticism courses through his lean frame, before he pushes himself back on to the rubber balls.
He's ready to go.
Rick lights the candles, waits until the wax begins to drip onto the bench just in front of the ring.
`Smack!' Rad's hand swats the welted butt-cheek, initiating a groin-thrust forward. Now, as Ben's dick pushes through the ring it meets the dripping wax on the other side.
"OOOOwwwww" he yelps and hurriedly withdraws – impaling himself fast on the balls, whimpering from the strange feeling created there.
And strangely, after the initial shock of the hot wax, that also is building an internal heat! As Rad's hand descends for another smack, Ben is already thrusting forward again, sacrificing his welted dick to the hot wax, before pulling back.
Instinctively Ben adopts the to-and-fro action that the twins had devised, thereby embracing the intense pleasure-pain stimulation they had envisaged. His thoughts are a confused fog, incapable of analysis, dominated by the stimuli coursing in from so many parts of his body.
Some of these stimuli are most certainly painful, but a strange exchange inside his head is interpreting them as pleasureful instead. So, for instance, in one of his thrusts, his forearms moved, thereby tugging the clover clamps. Ben's goodlooking face certainly winced, but he also caught his lower lip between his teeth as he felt his dick jerking in response to the supposedly-pain-message from his nipples.
The hot wax dripping onto his dick on every thrust ought to have been painful pure and simple – but accompanying the joy for the forward shove through the ring, it unaccountably became desirable.
The twins kept up the pressure.
Now Rad was spanking each ass-cheek in turn with a table-tennis bat. On those welts, this should really hurt – it should be agonising! But again, somewhere inside, Ben's psyche was twisting the hurt into yet another impetus toward that goal to be achieved at any cost – his orgasm. Even as Rad spanks harder, Ben is using the force to springboard faster into the ring.
Perhaps Rick will tip the balance?
He takes one of the unbroken switches (waste not want not!) and starts flicking at the underside of Ben's shaft every time it draws back from the ring. He's using the whippy end so that, as it swipes into the throbbing flesh, the tip wraps round to dig into the top of the shaft. This must be hurting Ben, but seems to be generating moans of desire rather than yelps of protest.
Perhaps it needs to be more forceful, then?
Rick is using sufficient force now that the switch is whistling through the air, and making a `thwack' sound as it bites into the shaft. Ben is reacting, yes, jerking as the switch stings – but those words struggling to bubble out of his mouth don't seem to be protests!
"O-o-oh, o-o-o-oh y-y-... p-p-p-please... o-o-oh ye-ye-yeah-yesssss, o-o h-h-hurt... h-h-hurt m-m-meeee..."
Rad paused to nudge the portable workhorse further forward. Ben's groin trembles as his anus struggles to accommodate the larger third ball ... and then it's in! Ben's head goes back, he gasps at the ceiling, he thrusts forward – pop-pop-pop! – enthusiastically he throws himself back onto the three balls, gasping again as his anus stretches and closes round the third, then corkscrews his groin as he powers forward, striving to gain the maximum stimulus from the ring, clenching his buttocks as he bounces his dick under the dripping torment of the hot wax.
If the wax had been allowed to congeal and cool on his erection, the pain-effect might have been lessened, but every time he thrust through the ring, wax flakes flew off his dick, exposing the sore flesh for more candle-torment each time.
There was a strange conflict somewhere inside Ben. All his normal pain centres were working just the way they always did. They were screaming stop this, stop this pain!'. But his dick was saying more, more, more!'.
The pain centres were responsible for Ben's eyes starting to tear, for his jerking and writhing, but they were unable apparently to stop his body demanding the more-more- more.
Rad was using the tabletennis bat much harder now, and Rick was wielding the switch with a will – Ben was embracing it all, incoherently begging for more – more stimulation, more pain. Rick was alternating the switch-strokes, smacking down now on the top of the shaft, then flicking up from below - Ben's shaft was covered in thin angry red tram-lines of delicious-hurt.
In his writhing and thrusting, he realised his wrists were tugging on the clover clamps. Deliberately he pulled his wrists down his back, watching the clamps stre-e-e-etch his nipples. Fuck oh fuck, that hurt so gooooooooood! Oh, more, more, more!
Ben's bent legs were trembling, muscles standing out on his thighs in long ridges, bunching up by his knees, flinging himself forward and back more and more desperately – how long could he sustain this effort? Blearily his panicky eyes turn to Rick, to Rad, mouth trying to form words. Is he trying to ask for mercy?
"P-p-p..."
"C'mon, Ben, keep it up – you must be close now! Jus' keep goin'."
Ben snaps - shakes his head in frustration, snarls, "Hit me harder, you bastards, hit me!" as he shoved so hard the workbench shuddered.
And that did it! The twins flailing at him, his wrists tugging at the clamps, torturing his own nipples... Yeah!!!
Ben yelled at the ceiling, tears running down his cheeks, he shoved one last time, jerking in spasm as he thrust his dick up towards the candle flames – and he came!!!
How much cum? As much as one might expect of a healthy athletic nineteen-year-old, starved of orgasm and stimulated beyond endurance for three days! His cum shot across the workbench, spattered up the wall, then shot again – and then again, before his dick throbbed and bounced, spewing more cum down his shaft to pool in front of the ring.
Ben involuntarily spasmed his dick into the ring, almost unable to believe that at last, at last, he'd been allowed to cum!
But what was this?
Fuck! His dick was still hard! There was more to cum!!! He thrust again, even more vigorously than before. "Don't stop you bastards, don't stop, oh please don't stop, hurt me, hurt me, hurt me!"
Nothing loth, the twins set to again with a will, as Ben wailed "oh please oh please oh please!"
He tugged harder with his wrists, his nipples being pulled up his chest, yelling with the pain. Something must give soon!
Fortunately his dick gave first – as Ben tugged with his wrists even harder, the clamp-claws were dragged up and off his nipples – Ben screamed at the ceiling as his dick spewing once again, more cum coating the workbench before he twisted free of the dildo, staggered back, falling on his ass on the garage floor moaning and crying, hugging himself with his now freed arms, the last gobbets of cum throbbing from his tortured cock.
Later in the twilit bedroom, an exhausted Ben is lying with the twins reviewing viewers' comments which are, predictably, numerous and excited. Most of them come naturally from doms who are delighted with Ben's sufferings, but others slip in occasionally.
"Hey, Ben, there's one from a Pete Smith here who says Please let Ben know that I feel for him but also understand his need' – how about that, you've gotta friend, Ben!" Ben looks up, smiles shyly at the camera. "Well, that's good to hear I've got at least one ally – thank you, Pete!" "Might be good to have another sub around – perhaps we can have a slaveboy competition! Are you gonna reply to him, twin?" "Na, I don't think he'll be submissive enough – he starts out his email to us with Hello guys'! `Guys'? That don't sound to me like a sub addressing a master to me!" "No," agreed Rick regretfully, "Guess you're right." Lots of ideas were being put forward, some of which the twins passed on to Ben, while others were stored – they didn't want to freak him out completely just yet!
But finally, "OK, Ben, time to get you to bed – you're so tired, your eyelids are closing of their own accord!" Ignoring his protests, he was shut back up in his iron maiden which, despite his massive cum earlier, still gave him some trouble during the night ...
But on Saturday, to his absolute delight, the twins announced that he would allowed generally a `free day' to recover from yesterday.
And the switch was thrown – back to normal'. The twins and Ben joshed around with each other during the day, played games, lifted weights gently in a spirit of fun competition, almost as though their relationship had never been shifted so drastically in the last few days. Almost. Ben was not allowed to remove his iron maiden. The deference that the twins had shown to him in past years is gone – irrevocably, without trace. Indeed, although nominally it's a normal' day and Ben is back to Ben' or cuz', the fit lad is finding that he is deferring to his younger cousins. Only in small ways, it's true, but whenever the question is mooted what shall we do now?', Ben automatically waits for one of the twins to make a suggestion or express a preference. And another thing. Sure, they're joshing each other, but Ben is a little wary; as the needling of each other ramps up, he's always the first to back off. And it always seems to be the two of them on to him – although Ben realises it's always been like that, when he thinks about it; despite his age and size advantage, they've always been his match, or better, in mastery. And the iron maiden continued the other problem – he couldn't take a piss standing up because it would tend to spray everywhere. Despite it supposedly being a free day', he still had to squat on the grass – with attendant camera – watching the pee dribble out on the grass between his legs.
A further problem developed for the naked athletic lad during the day. There was something missing. The challenge, the pain-pleasure, being pushed to his limits, the delicious scariness, the absolute comfort-certainty of knowing exactly what he has to do, and just to obey – these are all missing. It was stupid of course, but Ben was almost tempted to say, `Hey, guys, could we do a bit of slaveboy play now, please'. Crazy ... of course. Of course. But still tempting...
So Ben was quiet, deferential, following his cousins' lead.
His iron maiden gave him trouble throughout the day, but particularly when they were going through viewer responses later, whose repeated expectation of his slavery as the norm caused his dick to impale itself constantly on the spikes. It seemed so natural now for him to be responding Sir', so natural for him to be adopting the subservient position when replying. Rad's mobile rang – it was their grandfather checking that all was well while the parents were away. A general conversation was followed by the grandfather grumbling about being let down by some workmen who'd promised to cart the rubble from an old outhouse to the front of the property to make a hardcore standing area. "And the problem is" grumbled Gramps, "that these three were meant to be reliable so that I could leave them to it on the Sunday, ready to oversee the road-roller guy who's already been booked in for the Monday at a bargain price. And it's bad postponing the road-roller – dear alone knows when he'd be available again! For goodness sake – it was just a simple labouring job, and now they've let me down!" Rad listened idly, making appropriate sympathetic noises, "So it's just a straight-forward hard-labour' job, Gramps?" "That's right – but it has to be reliable men, because Gran and I are away tomorrow." Rad felt the germ of an idea forming. "What about us, Gramps? Could we do it?" Gramps sounded doubtful. "You know this isn't a playing-around job, Rad? It's really hard work for three grown men? How could you do it in the same time? And in any case you'd have to take it seriously and work your socks off to get the job done." Rad nodded. "Sure, I understand that. But Ben's very strong now. And we'd just have to work from sunup to sundown instead of a normal eight-hour day. And we'd take it seriously if we know how much is hanging on it... Listen, Gramps, why don't we come round now, have a look, and then you'll know whether you have to cancel the roller?"
The twins' parents had left their smaller car in the front half of the garage when going on holiday with Ben's parents so a little while later, sleeping bags and other relevant paraphernalia (known to the twins, unexplained to Ben) packed, twins organising, their naked cousin obeying without a very clear idea of what was happening. It is an unresisting slaveboy, then, who submits to being cuffed wrists behind, but is puzzled when the twins start ushering him into the back as he is. "Uh, S-Sirs?" (at least he has the good sense to be polite!) "Uh, you're not gonna take me over to Gramps like this, are you?" In a flash the matey atmosphere vanished. Rad slapped his cheek – hard. "When will you learn?", he raged. "When will you fucking learn? Don't ever – ever – question our orders – ever! Get to the back of the garage – bend over the workbench – fucking now!" In this mood, Rad frightened his athletic cousin, who shuffled quickly to obey, thumping his chest down on the bench. "Right, dipshit, count em, after each one, say I will always obey you without hesitation, Sir', don't fuckup!" The whistle through the air was all the warning Ben got before – `Thwaaaackck!' Shit, that was hard!! Ben leapt up, scrabbling at the crop-stroke with his cuffed hands, trying to rub away the agonising hurt. "Oh fuck, fuck, one, Sir, I will always obey you without hesitation, Sir." "Nope, you fuckup, that don't count – you stay down, and you only say what I told you – get back down!"
Whimpering, the trembling boy complied, waiting for – Thwaaaackck!' Ben groaned through his gritted teeth. Fuck this was hurting! "One, Sir, I will always obey you without hesitation, Sir." He heard the hiss even as soon as he was reaching the end of the mantra – Thwaaaackck!' The naked slaveboy tensed, butt arched and jiggling on tiptoe, thighs clenching, calves cording as he struggled to process the pain. "T-two, Sir, I will always obey you without hesitation, Sir." Without a moment's respite: `Thwaaaackck!' "AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Fuck, could they not at least give him some time to recover?! He wanted to wait – dared not wait. Solid welts were building on his butt cheeks now – great for the viewers!
Ben's voice was trembling, breaking, having difficulty saying, "Th-th-three, Sir, I will always obey you without h-h-esitation, Sir." `Thwaaaackck!' "Oooooooooowwwwwww!" Oh, please, please, stop! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, this hurt!
"F-f-four, Sir," he wailed, "I will always obey you without hesitation, Sir." `Thwaaaackck!' "Oooooooooooooowwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaagh". I-can't-go-on-I-just-can't-go-on-make-it- stop-oh-please-make-it-stop! The nineteen-year-old jock was sobbing now, desperate for this to end, willing in vain for the punishment to stop. But he had waited too long, mustn't wait any longer.
"F-five, Sir, I-I w-will always obey –" `Thwaaaackck!' "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghghghgh!"
"Nope, dipshit, that one didn't count – you're meant to say the mantra straight away, not in your own sweet fucking time – get that butt up!"
How frantically did the naked lad want not to obey! How urgently did he want to run away!
And yet so ingrained was his submission that, despite the raw-edged pain-messages jagging through his brain, he pushed his butt up and out again. Sure, it was trembling with fear, but he was obeying.
`Thwaaaackck!' "Oooooooooooooowwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaagh". Ben's forehead banged on the bench, he screamed through gritted teeth, his tears were smearing the wood – but he'd learned. Straight away, "F-f-five, S-S-Sir, I w-w-will always obey you w-without h-h-h-hesitation, Sir," he sobbed.
He gritted his teeth for the next onslaught ...
And it never came!
A reprieve?!
Rad grabbed his hair, yanked, yelp from Ben, eyes locking gaze to gaze – one grim, glaring, dominant, the other tear-laden, wavering, submissive. "What's the message, dipshit?" The sobs still shook the reply, "I-I'll always obey you, S-S-Sir, I p-promise". "Right – so get in the back of the fucking car – in the footwell."
A shaken cowed fit naked lad was in the rear passenger footwell, covered by a blanket, processing his thoughts as he was driven away.
So much for a `free day'! This wasn't equality – sure, the twins cut him some slack in the morning – and then without a word of warning it was stripped away again. They always had him on the hop!
The car drew to a halt, went over some rough ground, stopped. Back door opens, blanket whisked off. A single curt "out!". It says much for the effect of the recent punishment that Ben, naked and cuffed, no clear idea where he was, scrambled out of the car without hesitation or protest. He saw that they were stopped just off the road by some scrubland, the car shielding him from some extent from passing traffic. The twins uncuffed him, told him to don flipflops, light summer slacks, long-sleeved shirt (`some of those welts are still showing, so you need clothing that will cover you up'), back in the car sitting on the back seat, driving off again.
Wearing clothes! How much had his life changed that it seemed strange to wear clothes!
Their grandfather shows them the sloping vineyard field with the rubble from the old outhouse at the top, the area at the bottom by the track for the hardcore standing area, the large builders' barrows to cart the rubble. "You can see the size of the job – frankly, are you sure that you lads can take this on? It's not too late for me to cancel the roller." Rad nodded confidently. "Yes, I'm sure, Gramps – there are three of us, we'll start at first light, and we'll just keep going until the job's done. We won't need the house – can you lend us one of the barns?"
The twins are particularly interested in the leather reins, straps and other equipment hanging on the walls – although designed for other purposes, there seemed to be so many bdsm applications for innocent-looking items!
While their grandfather left them to talk it over, Rad turned to Ben. "Listen, Ben, this hinges on you. Let's be honest about this – those builders' barrows are so large that Rick are gonna have trouble managing them with any sort of decent load in them. So our role will be to make sure that one barrow is full while you are bringing the other one down to that hardcore area, and then getting it back up again. If you're not up to it, say so, but you can see the bind that Gramps is in, so it's up to you."
At last, something where the twins are acknowledging Ben's superiority! He glows with pride. And embedded within that, the if you're not up to it' as a challenge to his jockiness, and the bind that Gramps is in' as an appeal to the team spirit. Poor Ben – he's just no match for the twins' manipulation. What else can he do but say, "S-sure – of course I'll do it".
Hook line and sinker. Now to reel him in.
"Well done, Cuz. To be clear, then, we will work you as hard as it takes to get the job done – whatever it takes – you up for that?" After his previous commitment, what can he say? "Yeah, sure, of course – whatever it takes."
And that's the tone Ben takes with their grandfather. "Yes, Gramps, we can see what we're taking on. We're just going to do whatever it takes to get the job done well."
An impressed grandfather leaves them to it, and it's not long before they hear their grandparents driving away. They're alone on the farm!
One of those swift mood-changes that always seems to catch Ben on the hop.
"Right, Benny, strip, clothes in the car, bedding from the boot out here in the barn, one barrow into the other, fill those water carriers, into the barrow – on the double – move it!" Gone is the clothed jock cousin - now a naked slaveboy, feet slapping on the concrete of the yard, is carrying material to and fro at the double, conscious that the twins will no doubt express their displeasure at the first sign of slacking.
Jobs done, panting slaveboy, twins decide they need to have an early night to be up at first light.
One welcome mercy – Ben's iron maiden is removed "but you're on your honour not to touch your dick, Benny – this is just to help you sleep well" before he's cuddled up between his younger masters.
Ben drowsily sees the straps hanging on the wall in the dim light, knowing that the leather will be biting into his flesh tomorrow; he can feel his erection growing against Rad's butt...
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Apologies for the future – chapters will probably be taking a little longer from now on.
But a continuing thank you for the encouraging comments received so far (which act as a very good stimulus to continue what is proving to be a time-consuming activity!) – please keep them going!
In particular, thank you to Harry, a brilliant correspondent, for his invaluable imagination and advice.
Another especial thank you to Alex, who has helped me really get into Ben's psyche – helped with honesty, determination and courage. Thank you, Alex – this chapter is dedicated to you.
Thank you also to those who are providing pix and vid-links to relevant material – it's a most helpful impetus to keep the story going!
I hope you enjoy this episode! StrictSafeTop sst@linuxmail.org
As always, Nifty can do with donations: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html if you enjoy the service and want it to continue ad-free!
All the normal caveats apply regarding fantasy versus reality – for instance some of the practices described would NOT be safe in real life. Similarly, in real life, if we are lucky enough to come across good bdsm playmates, we should value and respect them – they are not always that easy to find!
This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or living persons is coincidental. Personal experiences, from images to events, memories and words, flavour my writing, and while elements of this story may be (and often are) based in fact, the characters are entirely fictional. Unprotected sex is depicted. In real life, be safe! Don't gamble. If it is illegal for you to read this story because of your age, location or any other reason, don't read it.
This work is copyright by the author. Commercial use without permission is prohibited. Please do not republish any of this story without consent of the author.