Cousins Take Charge
Chapter 14
Category – gay authoritarian – teen (legal age), role reversal, bondage, discipline, `forced' exercise,
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MANY apologies for such a long delay - and thank you for all encouraging emails – a great stimulus! Particular thank you to Ian, daemon and final catalyst.
This is FANTASY! It is NOT a template for irl bdsm!
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...and... if you yourself are a fit young man in need of `slave training', better get in touch, boy...
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Chapter Fourteen
Their reverie is interrupted by the phone. Rad answers...
"Oh, hi, Grandad!..."
He's not given time to say much more – even Rick and Ben can tell that their grandfather is ecstatic about the work they've done, and Rad can't get much more in than "Well, I'm glad you're pleased, Grandad..." "Well, that's very kind of you..." and so on.
But then it becomes clear their grandfather is suggesting a `reward' for their efforts.
Rad interrupts him. "Grandad, that's really generous of you, but listen, can I get Rick in on this? Would you give me a sec?" Rad mutes the phone, looks at Ben.
"Benny, this is for Rick and me – go and vacuum the sitting-room – pronto!"
It says much for the twins' dominance that after only a moment thinking about protesting that he's missing out on the fun, Benny obediently gets off the bed and tramps downstairs.
He can just hear Rad saying, "Sorry about that, Grandad; OK, Rick's here as well, and I've got you on loudspeaker, so do please carry on." Then the tones of his grandfather's voice, before Ben is out of earshot – and then the sound of the vacuum cleaner prevents any chance of hearing more.
That's all Ben gets to know about what's happening – later, Rick comes down to fetch him back but says warningly, "Listen, Benny, sometimes curiosity isn't suitable in a slaveboy, and this is one of those times – OK?"
How frustrating Ben found this! He's not even allowed to ask what's happening! But the twins' training shows its effectiveness – a simple "yes Sir" is all he replies as follows Rick upstairs.
Once in the bedroom, it seems back to normal – the new normal, that is, where the twins lead the action, settling Ben for sleep. Even here, though, the twins enjoyed keeping him on the bounce – tonight they tied him face up, spreadeagled, butt plug in tight, so that they could tease and tickle him, tapping the plug to keep him on the go. Only when precum was drooling on to his stomach and he was begging to cum (denied, of course) did they desist, but it was a long time before Ben could calm down enough to think of sleep. And, even then, every time he shifted, the plug reawakened the ache...
...
Ben's morning awakening is achieved by a simple smack on his taut abs – and he knows by now not to complain! "OK Ben, rise and shine – we've got a lot to do today! Right, first job, you've gotta model this for us."
`This' was a small device which Rick fastened to Ben's ball-sac between his (erecting!) shaft and his dangling balls.
"OK, Ben, bend over, show the camera what you've got". Wonderful shot for the punters, looking at Ben's bent-over ass, with the black device pouched menacingly by the balls!
"Look up at the other camera, Benny." Wonderful shot of the cute face looking up, wondering what this is all about!
He soon finds out... the camera records beautifully the startled eyes, the gasping mouth emitting a grunt of pain, as he clutches his shocked balls!
"It's your new toy, Benny – hope you like it! We're going shopping today, and we thought it would be a helpful tool for us to keep you in line!"
Ben didn't think the twins needed anything more to help them keep him in line – they seemed to be doing perfectly well without; but he was learning fast when best to say nothing.
...
Breakfast over, they set off for the shopping estate, Ben being required to run just in shorts as before. "Remember, Benny, we're expecting you to run well – don't make us `remind' you too many times!"
In fact, the twins didn't push him too hard. But the `reminder' was a different matter! There were a couple of times when Ben lagged a little – and a jolt on his balls made the twins' displeasure clear! They also filmed some good footage of the lean jock, the muscles on his long smooth legs jumping and gliding in perfect rhythm, the sinews sliding on his strong V-shaped back, beads of perspiration curving over the flesh.
Panting, sweating, Ben was grateful to arrive at the feeling in good shape – he'd enjoyed the physical challenge!
As they reached the supermarket, Rick handed Ben a lightweight waterproof. "Here y'are, Ben, better wear this inside – we don't want too many people leching over you at once – well, not without paying for it anyway," he laughed.
A vain hope, perhaps – Ben's body was enhanced rather than hidden, in lightweight top and tight shorts, the long lean legs and bare feet suggesting an intriguing vulnerability.
Yes, definitely a vain hope. As they entered the supermarket, a pre-occupied wirily-built, almost effeminate-looking lad of Ben's age, almost bumped into them – and then his mouth dropped open.
"H-hey, B-Ben! G-great to s-s-see you."
Equally interesting was Ben's reaction. A curt "Hi Dylan", an alpha-jock nod of the head, and Ben hurried on by.
The hungry look in Dylan's eyes as he gazed after the retreating Ben was emotionally-raw; naked desire, certainly, but despair, fear, hurt – all were there. The highly-perceptive twins could sense the existence of a `back-story' and with telepathic agreement, Rad escorted Ben inside, while Rick stayed behind with Dylan.
Since most of their supplies were sorted by delivery, the shopping didn't take long, and as they were coming out, Ben wasn't pleased to see Rick still talking with Dylan, speaking glances being exchanged between the twins.
"Ben, run on ahead, please – I wanna talk with Rad."
Uneasily, Ben complied, not able to hear the low-toned conversation which continued all the way. He was even more uneasy back home when Rad issued a curt command, "Back garden, Ben, pressups and squats until we join you".
...
Soon, the twins had arranged Ben the way they wished – lying on the ground, ankles tied to balls, rope from ankles up to pulley on tree bough, another rope handing down just over his face.
Time to up the pressure! The twins hauled on the rope so that his ankles lifted off the ground, higher, higher, until only Ben's shoulders and head were resting on the ground, before tying off the rope.
Clever arrangement! To stop his ankles pulling on his balls, Ben had to hold up his weight on his thigh muscles – delicious bunching sinews already!
"OK, Ben, as you've probably guessed, I had a really interesting chat with Dylan, and we've just followed that up with a further phone-call," said Rick grimly. "What do you think he had to tell us?"
Ben attempted to bluster it out. "O-oh, well, he was on the swim team for a while, an' then he left – it just didn't work out."
`Swifffft!' Ben yelped as a switch cut into his taut ass – a double yelp because the pain caused a moment's distraction from the stress of the bondage position, so an involuntary yank on his balls. He was also uncomfortably aware of his vulnerability – his balls had felt the movement of air as the switch had bitten into his ass-flesh.
"Oh, I think you have a lot more to tell us than that, Ben – try again!"
...
It took the twins a long time to extract all the details from their jock cousin, and they had to drive him hard to get there. His thigh muscles were quivering in their attempt to keep his ankles from pulling on his balls. Ben had many times used the rope over his face to haul himself up to take the weight off his ankles, but even his upper-body strength wasn't up to doing that for long.
And whenever he came up with an answer that displeased the twins (which was most of the time), a switch would whistle through the air to bite into a taut muscle.
It was a sorry tale that was (eventually) forced out of Ben. Dylan had joined the swim-team. Although not the strongest physique, he nevertheless compensated for that with a wiry musculature, enduring stamina, and excellent technique. In terms of performance, he was an asset.
But Dylan's light frame and non-macho' look had made him the butt of the rest of the team. With the aggressively-hetero posturing that jocks feel they have to adopt, the hazing of Dylan helped them to confirm their own hetero-ness' to themselves. The worse they treated him, the more they felt confirmed, so that the `hazing' turned into outright sadistic bullying. They'd humiliated him and inflicted degrading homophobic activities on him (including abuse of both his holes with various objects) until the persecuted lad had had to leave the team.
Although Ben hadn't initiated this behaviour, he (finally) admitted that he had freely joined in with everybody else to make Dylan's life hell.
The twins paused in their interrogation.
Ben's torso was running with sweat, panting with the exertion of coping with this stress- bondage. Currently he'd hauled himself up on the rope again, biceps and delts bunching and striating, before with a gasp he had to let himself down again, putting the load back on his quivering thighs. On every muscle, switch-marks red-striped through the sweat – it had taken a long time to get Ben to confess to all that had happened!
"And do you know what makes this worse, Ben," continued Rad, "All the time he was on the team, Dylan fancied the pants off you, he was desperate for something – anything – from you, just a kind word would have done, or a kind gesture; you knew that, didn't you?"
"Ye-Yeah," panted Ben, "Yeah, I knew."
"And," Rad went on – punctuating each word with a vicious swipe of the switch eliciting a yelp from Ben each time, "You – just – carried – on – abusing – him – despite – his – feelings – for – you!"
"Aaaagh," gasped Ben, close to tears, "Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
The twins released the rope, letting Ben's feet fall to the ground as he groaned in relief, his aching muscles able at last to release their tension.
Ben waited apprehensively for the punishment that must inevitably descend for his mistreatment of Dylan, but strangely the twins ordered him curtly to clean the pool before they went inside.
The rest of the day was emotional torture for Ben. The twins treated him coldly, but no more mention was made of Dylan; he was merely given tasks throughout the day; which in the circumstances he made sure were done to the best of his ability! Very often one or other twins appeared to be absent; whether in another part of the house or somewhere else, Ben couldn't say.
Was there going to be a punishment? Nothing was said. It almost reached the point where Ben begged for a punishment, just to clarify the doubt, clear the air. Almost.
No intimacy in the evening – he was given a small mattress to sleep on, beside the bed.
In the morning, again no intimacy; getting up, `going shopping again', Ben made to run, use of ball-shocker when slacking. Again, handed the lightweight coat as they reached the shopping precinct, before going into a clothing store. All clinical, matter-of-fact.
But the next half-hour was hugely enjoyable for the twins, hugely embarrassing for Ben. They insisted on Ben trying on the Tshirts where they were hung, refusing access to the changing cubicles. Inevitably this generated a lot of attention, which the twins racked up with use of their camera, holding on to Ben's top for just a little too long each time, making him twirl for their benefit...
Indeed a couple of times the twins had to resort to use of the `reminder', Ben's yelps and twitches presumably mystifying punters nearby.
Eventually, though, a choice was made – by the twins, not by Ben. A tight (of course!) garment just coming down over the curve of the pecs, but leaving those ribbed abs exposed. Ben's face crimson with embarrassment, but the twins are relentless; the `Tshirt' is bought, receipt given to Ben.
Things get worse. Nearing the exit, Rad takes it out of the bag, hands it to Ben, "OK, Benny, put it on."
Ben is trapped, and he knows it. Even so he tries pleading – cut off short by the reminder'. To the delectation of those nearby, he relinquishes the top and puts on the Tshirt'. Hot, slutty, adorable.
Ben tries one last time. "L-listen guys – (whispering:) Sirs – please let me wear the top as well."
Amazingly Rad, after a few seconds' consideration, nods his head, and Ben thankfully turns to Rick behind him, who has been hanging on to the top all this time.
Hastily Ben dons the garment and heads thankfully for the exit, breathing a sigh of relief as they leave the store.
The relief is short-lived.
Hardly had they walked a few steps before – "Just a moment, please, Sir."
They turned, to face two young men in black uniform, `Security' labels on breast pocket. Young men? Very young, actually – same age as the twins. Clearly a summer job, taken on to deal with increased sales traffic during the summer months. Despite their age, they were heavily-built – rugby props, or weight-lifters, perhaps. Perfectly polite, but a no-nonsense look in their eyes which gave them an authority despite their youth, almost clone-like in their projection of mandated power, apparently only different in that one was blond, one dark.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I think you have an item that hasn't been paid for."
Ben stared, stuttered, "B-but I've just paid for it – look, here's the receipt!" Proffered from his shorts pocket.
"Nevertheless, would you come with us, please, Sir."
Ben stared at them, stared at the twins, who shrugged, Rad saying, "Is it OK if we come as well? We're his cousin and can vouch for him."
"Yes, of course – this way please Sirs."
The blond guard led the way, the dark one following behind; not back into the store, for which Ben was grateful, but down a narrow passage by the side
Halfway down `Blondie' turned. "I didn't want to cause you unnecessary embarrassment in the street, Sir, but we have to follow correct procedure. I should explain that you are under temporary arrest pending investigation of alleged theft – would you please put your wrists behind your back, Sir?" So saying, he unhooked some handcuffs from his belt.
Ben stared at him, looked wildly round – Darkie' was blocking the passage behind. A scan of the twins suggested they were intending him to comply, so with a sigh he did so, feeling the unforgiving metal on his wrists, hearing the menacing click-click' of the ratchets, echoing in the narrow passage.
"Thank you, Sir; this way, please."
Ben tugged with his wrists, knowing it was futile, unable to help himself doing so. Scuffing with his bare feet down the alleyway, helplessly cuffed, he swallowed anxiously.
All the way down the alley, then round the back, the three being ushered into a small clinical room, table, chairs, very little else. Blondie sits, Darkie stands against the door.
"Sit here, please, Sir." Ben silently complied.
"Now, Sir, we should like to investigate an allegation that you have removed an item from our store without paying for it. We're going to remove your top, please, Sir."
"B-but I brought this in with me, you can check your CCTV and – ouch!"
Ben jerked as his balls received a shock, he turned angrily to Rad, who cut off any protestation, "Just do what he asks you, Ben, no need for backtalk."
Infuriated, sullenly Ben subsided, allowing the guard to push the top off his shoulders, down to his wrists, a deft placing of a second pair of handcuffs a little further up, removal of the first pair, and the top was free to be placed on the table. The riled jock is feeling increasingly vulnerable; abs on display, tight shorts, bare feet, wrists cuffed behind, no help from the twins...
"Please answer my questions with a yes' or a no', Sir. Is this the top you were wearing coming out of the store just now, Sir?"
Frustrated, Ben snapped "Look, what is this about, you know – OW!"
His knees jerked up as a shock – higher than before – zapped his balls.
"Listen, Ben", snarled Rad. "Let's not make this worse than it is – you heard him – just yes' or no'. Is this the top you were wearing coming out of the store just now?"
Slightly hurt that the twins didn't seem to be supporting him much, his shoulders slumping, he muttered "yes".
"Thank you, Sir. Please watch carefully as I empty the pockets, Sir."
Confused, Ben watched as the guard unzipped a pocket, pulled it inside out ... as a small piece of fabric fell onto the table. The guard unravelled it. A silky-smooth skimpy jockstrap! Still with price-tag attached.
Bewildered, Ben stammered "B-b-but... I don't – OWW!"
Another shock to the balls, as the guard lifted his hand. "Please, Sir, nothing apart from yes' or no', in response to my questions – thank you. "Did you pay for this item, Sir?"
"No, of course I – OWWW!" Ben turned furiously to Rad. "Look, why are you doing th- OWWW!"
Rad looked grimly down at him. "Listen, Ben, it's quite simple. There's clearly some kind of problem here that needs sorting out, and you're being asked for your help to sort it. All you have to do is follow instructions – that's surely something you've learned to do by now, isn't it? "So don't make anyone have to tell you again – it's just yes' or no'. "So, did you pay for this item?"
Ben ground his teeth, looked down, muttered "no". "I'm sorry, Sir, could you say that louder, please? Did you pay for this item?"
Ben looked up, glared, said "NO!"
"Thank you, Sir." The guard moved to the next pocket, unzipped it, pulled out ... some silky skimpy Speedos! Also still with price-tag. Ben, aghast, was about to protest his innocence, but remembered in time the ball-shocker.
The next question seemed inevitable... "Did you pay for this item, Sir?"
Ben slumped, defeated. "No." "Thank you, Sir." The guard continued running his hand over the lightweight top, checking the stitching, the collar, satisfying himself that nothing else was hidden there, before looking up grimly at Ben. "Sir, you have been found with two stolen items in your possession, and we have to satisfy ourselves that you have nothing else hidden away. I now need to remove your Tshirt. Do you understand, Sir?"
Ben sighed resignedly... "Yes." "Thank you, Sir." Again, deftly the guard manoeuvred the Tshirt over Ben's head, down to the wrists with the same slick operation with both sets of handcuffs.
As Ben sat naked apart from his tight shorts, the guard again ran his fingers over all the seams – it didn't take long! Another grim look.
"Thank you, Sir. I now need to remove your shorts. Do you understand, Sir?"
Ben's jaw dropped, worked soundlessly, trying to find the right words, looked at the guard, then at the other guard leaning against the only door, at the twins, seeking some kind of support.
There was none. If he spoke out of turn, his balls would be shocked.
The silence was menacing. No comfort anywhere.
Ben looked round again. Helpless. Vulnerable. He sighed. "Yes."
No triumph, no satisfaction, no emotion at all on the guard's face. "Thank you, Sir. Would you stand, please, Sir."
Having surrendered the point, it seemed futile to resist, so Ben wordlessly shuffled to his feet as Darkie took position behind him. The material resisted a moment as the guard had to tug it over Ben's taut buttocks; then it slid with a rush off his ass and fell to the ground. It was handed over to Blondie who again checked all the stitching and seams carefully, before handing shorts, Tshirt and lightweight top to Darkie.
All that was left on the table were the two `stolen' items. Blondie looked at these thoughtfully, before looking up again.
"Thank you, Sir. In order to complete our search, my colleague will now need to body-search you. Do you understand, Sir?"
Ben stared back at him, trying to see if there was any hint of a practical joke going on, any dare, or trick, which any moment would be revealed in a general burst of laughter.
The guard's expressionless face looked back – without a trace of humour. Look', the face was saying, I'm just doing my job; let's just get through this with as little fuss as possible, can we?'
Similarly, Ben looked at the twins, seeking a glimmer of sympathy, compassion, rescue. Nothing. They looked back with eyebrows raised as if to say `Well, what are you waiting for?'
He was naked. He was handcuffed. Two well-built young men were waiting for him to obey. Arguing seemed pointless. Again he sighed. "Yes".
A thorough search ensued, from head to toe, sifting through his hair, checking his mouth, armpits, soles of feet.
"Feet apart, chest on the table, please Sir." Unthinkingly Ben obeyed.
A pause. A sound. Something like elastic-type material snapping into place. A step behind.
Ben felt a firm hand between his shoulder-blades, holding him down, while...
...he felt a finger sliding between his ass-cheeks!!!
A grunt of protest, he jerked sideways, looked up at Blondie staring implacably back. He twisted to look at Rick. "Rick – please! Please don't let – OWWWW!"
A stronger burst than before hit his balls. He looked up at Blondie again.
"My colleague needs to conduct a cavity search, Sir. Do you understand?"
(`No I don't understand, I don't fucking understand at all, I don't agree with any of this, you bastard, who the hell do you fucking think you are, you wait until I get these cuffs off, then we'll see who's gonna take the mick out of who...') But Ben knew it was pointless – impossible, indeed, with the ball-shocker – to try to say any of this.
Ben wondered if he was going to cry. He certainly felt like it. Well, fuck that. He was not going to give them that satisfaction.
"Yes", through gritted teeth. "Thank you, Sir."
The finger came back, sliding up and down the ass-crack, probing closer to the anal hole, rubbing the muscular ring... Just for a startled moment, Ben found himself wanting the finger inside; horrified, he jerked forward, body and mind desperately rejecting the idea.
But to no avail; the finger was in, sliding past the sphincter, probing inside. Ben moaned – and then blushed because it sounded as though he was liking it! And that was ridiculous – of course. The finger pushed a little deeper, twisted round.
Ben gasped, beads of sweat forming on his confused face. Involuntarily his hips moved back as though to force more of the finger inside. The finger obliged...
It was rubbing against him inside, it was teasing him, it was ... indescribable.
Ben's body was quivering. He wanted to run away, he wanted to force himself back on that finger, he wanted to cum!!!
He started to buck on the finger – and it withdrew. Before he could stop himself, his mouth emitted a little mew of disappointment.
"Thank you, Sir. Would you stand up, please?"
Moaning, groaning, Ben stood up to look at that emotionless countenance in front of him. He'd just been humiliated, violated, betrayed by his own body – and the guard's expression showed no reaction at all. And Ben realised he couldn't look at that face any more. Flushed with embarrassment, he dropped his eyes... ...to see his own dick, erect, drooling precum!
He moaned again. Oh fuck, could this get any worse?
"Thank you for agreeing to a full search, Sir. Now, may I remind you please that I wish you to respond only with yes' or no'. "You understand that you have walked out of our store with goods which haven't been paid for?" "Yes." "You understand therefore that we have a valid case to take to court in order to prosecute you?" "Y-yes." "You understand that our next step would be to call the Police to formally caution you and arrest you?" Pause. Sigh. "Y-yes." "Do you want us to call the Police?" Pause. A glimmer of hope. But a suspicious glimmer. "No!" "Very well. You understand, of course, that there have to be consequences for removing goods without paying for them, so we offer an restorative justice' option as an alternative to going to the Police. You understand that this option is by no means an easy way out – it will mean pain and humiliation – but it does mean that you can avoid all the embarrassment and publicity of arrest, prosecution, appearance in court, sentence. "So we give you a choice. We offer you the restorative justice option. If you say yes' to this, we deal with that now, and then you walk free. If you say `no', you stay like this until the Police arrive, and they take you away. "Do you understand – yes or no?"
Ben paused. He felt the trap closing round him. "Y-yes."
"Do wish to take up our offer of the restorative justice option?"
Ben looked round desperately. Not a sign of any sympathy anywhere. Certainly not from the guards and, frustratingly, not from the twins either. Naked, cuffed, precum drooling – he couldn't let the Police see him like this! His shoulders slumped. He felt as though he wasn't far from tears.
"Yes," he sighed.
The guards clicked' into what appeared to be a customary routine. They demanded Ben read a prepared statement to camera', admitting to removing goods without paying for them, and asking for the restorative justice option in preference to going to the Police.
As Ben finished speaking, he realised desperately that the twins were no longer there, although one of the ballshocker controls had been left on the corner of the table.
Defenceless, naked, cuffed, Ben gasped as Darkie kicked his ankles apart, pushed him down until his chest slammed into the table, yanked his head by his hair to stare up at Blondie's grim face – which had completely changed. The impassive impersonal authoritative stare had been replaced by something that looked remarkably like anger.
`Why anger?' wondered Ben.
"You might like to know, dipshit," snarled Blondie, as he snapped a collar and lead round Ben's strong neck, "that Dylan is a very good friend of ours."
Ben's eyes widened in sudden comprehension – to widen even further, accompanied by a shriek, as Darkie impaled his ass from behind...
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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!
All the normal caveats apply regarding fantasy versus reality – for instance some of the practices described would NOT be safe in real life.
I was horrified by a suggestion that someone might take this story as a `template' for real-life action – THIS IS FANTASY.
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! We certainly shouldn't mistreat them – their health and welfare is paramount.
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.
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.