This is a work of fiction. It includes scenes of BDSM sex among teen boys. No resemblance to persons living or dead is intended. If you are underage, or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, leave now. Some of the activities described in this story may cause injury or transmit diseases, including HIV.
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KYLE COMES THROUGH
Kyle and I didn't say anything as we put our gear away. Kyle's dad usually hoists a few beers with his bowling buddies before he heads home Tuesday nights, but we were running late. See, Kyle and I ...
Let me start at the beginning, more or less. I met Kyle in third grade, and by fifth grade he was the guy I fantasized about the most when I jacked off. I was in sixth grade when I told him, hoping he might ... and terrified that he'd just flatten me and that would be that. And he did, more or less: hit me in the stomach and took off. It was the longest two weeks of my life.
But then, it was just like before, like I'd never said anything. And when he ran for Student Council in seventh grade, I did his posters and coached his speech for the student assembly, and he won. And then he made A squad football and girls were all over him, and he teased me, sort of. "See, Andy, if you were straight you'd get attention like I do!"
Other kids teased me, too, about being Kyle's girlfriend, but it didn't really matter, because underneath it all, we were still friends. And then, last summer, I told him I thought we could make money selling pictures of him naked and tied up. (I'd found this magazine.) And he was cool about it, and one thing led to another and it turned out he liked to be tied up and tortured and even fucked -- because he said it proved what a man he was. I was fine with helping him to prove it. We'd get together on Tuesday nights while his dad was bowling. Kyle had a sort of workout space in the garage, with a chinning bar and his weight bench -- and our box of toys. (It's pretty easy to get stuff on the internet!) We forgot about the picture thing pretty quick and just ... enjoyed ourselves.
Until Ben caught us. Ben lived next door, and he managed to get a picture of me fingering Kyle's butt while Kyle was spread-eagled naked, hanging from the chinning bar chains. Ben basically gave us a choice: be his sex slaves or he'd spread that picture all over the net.
Ben liked to order us around and watch. And get blow jobs. He said, "I like to look down on you faggots crawling around and kneeling at my feet and sucking my cock!" He never asked us what we liked.
"I'm really sorry, Kyle," I said, after that first night.
"Don't worry, Andy! I can take his bullshit -- I'm straight. You guys are the fags!" And he gave me his oh-so-cute smile and wink.
I still felt guilty about the way things had turned out, though. I was in charge, and Kyle was all strung up in a spread-eagle with a collar around his neck, so there was nothing he could do! I didn't know about the hole in the garage wall, of course, but I felt like I should have, somehow. Or seen Ben's camera, maybe. But I was watching Kyle. You can't just spank someone's ass without paying attention to what you're doing, right? But I should have ... something, somehow, over and over. It was almost like it would have been okay if Ben had made Kyle punish me, maybe.
Instead, he messed with both of us. Every Tuesday night, Ben met us at the garage. He'd order us to strip and lie on the floor. Usually, he ordered me to lift my legs so he could tie my ankles so it was like they were hobbled. I could shuffle around and fetch shit, but I couldn't run, or anything. Then, he'd make me do stuff like spread-eagle Kyle from the chinning bar and whip him, and then fuck his ass with a dildo while I played with myself. Then Ben would pull out his cock and order me to give him a blow job while Kyle watched.
Like I said, Ben liked making us crawl around like slaves. Sometimes, he'd tie both of our ankles, then tie my hands behind my back and pull them up behind my back and tie them there. Then he'd tie Kyle's privates to the rope between his legs so he couldn't stand up, and handcuff his wrists and make us crawl around the garage while he paddled us, or he'd make me get on my hands and knees and use me like a chair while he made Kyle fetch a dog toy in his mouth, over and over.
One night, Ben sat on a chair and kicked off his sneakers and made Kyle pull off his socks with his mouth and suck his toes. And I just had to kneel there and watch for a while, and then Ben spread his legs and ordered me to pull his cock out with my mouth. He's kicking my cock and balls with one foot and Kyle's sucking on the other one, and I'm trying to get his damn pants open!
At last, I got the damn thing out. Kyle's cock is bigger, but I didn't mention that, under the circumstances.
"Suck my nuts, Andy-boy! While your little queer fuckbuddy sucks my goddamn toes! I got me a couple of little faggot sex slaves. You're my sex slaves, aren't you?"
Kyle gasped, "Fuck you!"
I sort of said the same thing, but with Ben's cock down my throat, I don't think it was understandable.
"Suck, faggots!" Kyle laughed.
Another night, he had us both naked, facing each other, one of us hanging from each of the chinning bar chains. Then he pulled these clips out of his pocket -- those black wire spring clips you use for bunches of paper and things, you know? And he put one on each of our tits. I don't know if you've ever had your tits nibbled -- I did that to Kyle a few times and he liked it. But this was nothing like that. This was like the clip was almost slicing right through my skin! And Kyle's eyes were wide, too, but then his jaw went tight, like he was damned if he'd admit they hurt. I was already whimpering, though.
Then the asshole -- Ben -- tied pieces of string between us, so if one of us moved, the clips on the other one's tits got pulled. And then, he started swatting our butts, first with a belt, and then with the damn riding crop. (I wish I'd never gotten that damn riding crop!) We both did our best not to jerk, because of the clips, but Ben was doing his best to make us jerk, and he had the upper hand, of course.
The almost as bad part of that was that Ben broke the skin on my ass. You could see the crop marks for at least a week, and I had a hell of a time hiding them in the shower! Kyle had bruises, but ... "football practice," he claimed.
Things got worse! He had us tied facing each other again, and he tied a rope between our balls, and started tapping it with the riding crop, hard enough to jerk our nuts. "First one to whine gets another ass whipping!" he laughed. He was getting more and more intense, and then Kyle said, "Stop!"
I was really surprised at that. I'd hung a one-pound weight from Kyle's balls, and he could handle it! But then Ben went after Kyle's ass and I realized what he'd done -- he knew I couldn't have taken another whipping. I looked at Kyle and he was saying, "Oh, Master! It hurts so much, Master!" at the same time he was winking at me, even though our nuts were still tied!
"How's your nuts, Andy-boy? You want me to stop, faggot?" Ben yelled at me.
"Y-yes, Master," I said, scared of what was coming next.
"Beg to suck my cock, then!"
"Please, Master, can I suck your cock?"
"Beg harder!"
"Oh, please, Master, please let me suck your cock, Master! Let me suck your big cock, Master!"
"That's better!" He gave Kyle one last blow, tossed the crop aside and untied me. "On your knees like you belong, faggot!"
"Yes, Master."
"Beg me some more! Kiss my feet!"
"Please, Master!" Kiss, kiss. "Please let me suck your big, huge cock, Master!" Suck, suck, then kiss, kiss a few more times.
"Okay, faggot!" He turned us so Kyle, who was still tied up, could see everything clearly. "Suck!"
And I did. Like I said, his cock wasn't that big, really.
Ben made Kyle fuck me and then suck my cock while he went on about how gross faggots were. He made me lick his asshole while he fucked Kyle's face. He made us finger-fuck each other. One night, he fucked me while I fucked Kyle. I hated that! I didn't want to share my ass with anyone but Kyle!
Then one night he made me put Kyle on the rack. I was really worried about this, because that was the one time Kyle had said "cashmere sweater" -- our safe word. The way the rack worked -- it was actually two pieces of lumber tied to Kyle's weight bench -- his wrists were tied to a hook on the wall, and his feet were tied to a rope and pully setup that hooked to the opposite wall. "Stretch him!" Ben said, and he whacked my back with the damn riding crop. "How you like that, faggot?" he sneered at Kyle.
"Fuck you!" Kyle gasped.
"More!" Ben said, and whacked me again.
I pulled a little more.
"Oh, Master," Kyle gasped -- and I knew he was almost to "cashmere sweater."
"Again!" Ben yelled.
"No!" I yelled back. I kind of surprised myself.
Ben swung the riding crop, but I dodged it. "No, dammit!" I yelled.
Ben grabbed me, and before I knew it he had me over his legs and he was pounding my ass, spanking me. This wasn't little kid spanking, this was -- well, I'd spanked Kyle's ass a little, but nothing like this. I was just ... It was like the pain was filling my whole brain! And then, I had a -- well, you know in cartoons how sometimes a character will get an idea and a lightbulb will pop up? It was like that. Kyle was like a piano!
Okay, let me explain, because the idea came all at once, not broken out in words. When I tortured Kyle, it was like we were making some kind of crazy music together, just the right pain in just the right place and just the right rhythm, like. But Ben was just ... banging the keys with boxing gloves, or something. I'm not explaining it very well, because like I said it just all came to me at once while I was swimming in this ocean of hurt.
But while this was happening, Kyle was getting loose! Without me pulling him, he could get his hands to the ropes around his feet and get off the rack! The next thing I knew, Kyle was yanking the back of the chair! Ben flew backwards on the floor, and I fouind mysef lying on his stomach. "Get off!" Kyle yelled, and I kicked the chair away and the next thing I knew, Kyle had Ben pinned. "Keys!" Kyle yelled.
Ben was still confused, or something, and I managed to get the keys to the handcuffs out of his pants before he could stop me. I got one of the cuffs off of Kyle, and he gave Ben a shot to the jaw that knocked what was left of the fight out of him. I got my cuffs off and unlocked Kyle's other cuff and we just stood there, gasping and staring at the body on the garage floor.
"Is he dead, Kyle?"
"No, man, look at the vein in his neck. His heart's beating!" Just then, Ben's lips quivered. "And he's breathing!" Kyle added. "Tie his legs!"
While I did that, Kyle cuffed Ben's hands. Then he pulled the chair up and sat down, watching Ben regain consciousness.
"Let me go," Ben said, like he didn't know exactly what was going on. And then we came into focus, I guess, and he yelled, "Let me go, you goddamn faggots!"
That's when a second lightbulb came on. "We got you, asshole," I growled. "We got the whole thing! There's two security cameras in the ceiling, and we got it all!"
"That's bullshit! That's impossible!"
"It's the twenty-first century, Ben. Of course it's possible. The game is over!"
"I'll kill you faggots!"
"No, you won't, Ben. Shit! We have enough on you to put you in prison! You're nineteen -- that makes you an adult in this state! Raping little kids!"
"Everyone's gonna know you guys are faggots!"
Kyle pressed his bare foot on Ben's face -- hard. "So what? You got something against faggots? You some kind of homophobic bigot?"
I just stared at Kyle while he kept talking and kicking and rubbing Ben's face.
"You're a rapist, Ben. Like my boyfriend said, the game is over. If you don't want a permanent accidental injury to your tiny little balls, you better be out of here by the time I count to five! One!"
Ben struggled to his feet, and promptly fell over.
"Better untie your feet, stupid!" Kyle laughed. "Two."
"Shit!" Ben said. It didn't take him long to get loose -- I'm not as good with knots as he is. "The cuffs!"
"Don't you have a spare key?" I asked, all innocent. "They come with two keys, you know."
"Don't worry, Ben. Here they are," Kyle laughed, and he stepped outside -- naked and glorious in the streetlight -- and threw Ben's keyring. "They're in your back yard. Somewhere!" He threw his arm around my shoulders, and we watched Ben stagger out of the garage. "I can't believe you got security cameras up there," he said, studying the ceiling. Where?"
"Ah, that was ... I made that up, actually."
"So ... no videos?"
"No."
"Damn. They would have been fun to watch."
"Um .. what you said ... about boyfr--"
Kyle pulled my face to his and we kissed, tongues and all.
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