Turning the Tables
By James Forbes jasbike1@gmail.com
This is a work of fiction created for the entertainment of interested adults, partly based on my experiences, and partly fantasy of what I wish will still happen. Please read no further if you are underage, if this is illegal in your area, or if you are offended by explicit sexual stories. Any resemblance to anyone is strictly coincidental. This would have taken place in the pre-AIDS era. The main focus is on domination, submission, various punishments and kink, with of course some actual sex thrown in. But it's more narrative than straight-up fucking. If you're looking for a good sub in San Diego, email me.
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Chapter 13 -- The Limit
Back inside the cabin, I thought David had done everything to me humanly possible. I was so wrong...
"For this last test," David said, "You'll be my assistant! Won't that be fun? Fail, and I'll take over for you, which I guarantee will be far worse. Do you agree to complete the test?"
"Sir, I don't even know what the test—" he grabbed the spatula off the table and whacked me hard on each ass cheek, then my balls. I doubled over in agony.
"Slave: You agree, or I'll tie you up so you have no choice in the matter. You really don't anyway."
"OK OK Sir. I agree."
"Good!" David pulled a huge bag out from under the bed. "First, to make sure you don't go anywhere, stand near that table." Once I did, he spread my legs as far apart as possible, then tied them to the legs of the table, with my back to it. I wasn't going anywhere. Then he moved the cart next to me, and dumped out the contents of the bag I hadn't been able to see before: a mountain of clothespins.
I panicked. "Oh my god, Sir, no, that's way too many. You only put on a few the other day and I nearly fainted."
"There come the complaints again. Just for that, the zucchini is going back up inside you." He walked over to a mini fridge and got the zucchini, which still had the notch from where I'd hiked with it in my ass for miles. "This time, for your insolence, it's going all the way in. Good luck ever getting it back out." He lubed it up and slowly inserted it. I moaned uncontrollably. The zucchini hit the notch, at about 7", then he pushed the remaining two inches in with a plop. "Nice. That's not coming out any time soon," David said.
"Now, slave, there should be 50 clothespins on there. You're going to take every one of them. You get to put on half, and I get half. Choose wisely. You have four minutes, starting now."
I had no idea where to put them, but thought I would choose places that wouldn't hurt so much. I put 10 on my toes, two on my ears, and six on each thigh. "OK, Sir. That's 25," I stammered, with less than a minute left.
"There's a problem," he explained. "I'm counting 10, 2, and 12, and that makes 24." Stick out your tongue, because the rest of this isn't going to be pleasant. I don't want to hear you complain." Resigned, I stuck out my tongue, and David clipped #25 to the end of it.
"I was going to just put them on your pits and tits, like I did before, but now after that failure..." David said. "I hope you're ready for this. Before I do this, though, remember that nice bath I gave you last night with a facial cream? I spent a lot of money on that. It's a black-market product from Mexico, industrial-strength. It completely prevents hair from ever growing back. See how nice and smooth you are? I really like that, like you're my little brother-turned-slave. Now you'll be like that forever. That's your final punishment of the trip--well, after I put these clothespins on."
I tried to yell but couldn't, and wriggled and squirmed, but the ropes held my ankles tight.
"I think I'd better tie your hands, too. You won't need them for this." He lashed them together with his climbing ropes, then up over the rafter the rope went, hoisting my arms above my head.
David grabbed the remaining 25 clothespins, as my tongue, thighs, and toes already stung beyond belief. He pulled my balls this way and that, and quickly put 5 clothespins on each one. I screamed but it barely came out, with just drool dribbling down my chin by this point.
"Only 15 left," he said cheerfully. "I just don't know where to put them," David said, as he rubbed one up and down my shaft. Oh god no, not this. He wouldn't dare. Again I wriggled, but it was no use. He slowly and carefully clipped 5 on one side of my dick, and 5 on the other.
"Five left, and only one place I can think of. You know how much I like your half-foreskin. I'm not going to sugarcoat it: This is REALLY going to hurt, slave." Unbelievably, he put the remaining 5 clothespins on my foreskin! I would have doubled over in pain if I hadn't been tied up. As it was, I could only look on in horror. I was hyperventilating so much, he took the clothespin off my tongue. "Breathe slowly, in and out. I'll only keep them on until I get photos." He took several overall shots, as well as a close-up of my shaved dick and balls, with 20 clothespins covering every inch of them. Then he took a photo of just the end of the zucchini, barely sticking out my filled hole.
"Zucchini out first," he allowed. I pushed and pushed, but it just wouldn't come out. He reached his hand behind me, and inserted a finger on each side of the vegetable, spreading my boy ass even wider. At last, the zucchini started to slip out into his hands.
"Here's the thing," he said. "The clothespins coming off will hurt even worse. I don't want you screaming, not that anyone is listening up here. So this might help," and with that, he slipped the rancid zucchini into my mouth. It was all I could do to not throw up.
David started with the clothespins on my toes, which weren't too bad, then my thighs, which made me grunt into the zucchini gag. Next it was my balls. When I screamed, he warned, "I'll knock them off if you keep that up, slave!" I quieted down.
With each pin he removed from my shaft, 10 of them in all, I whimpered loudly. I couldn't help it.
"Fine. You asked for it slave. All those pins are coming off at once." He grabbed the spatula like a fly swatter, and swept it in front of my boy dick like a tennis racket, closer and closer. "Hey, it's like that old movie, The Pit and the Pendulum." He was only an inch away, and I tried to lean my crotch away from the inevitable pain. Finally he drew back, paused, and swung hard. All the foreskin pins flew off. My eyes saw red, and zucchini came flying out of my mouth as my head hung in a dead faint.
I awoke in bed, naked, with David rubbing cream on my legs, toes, and crotch—every place the sting of the clothespins had tortured me. "Shhhh, shhh, little brother, it's OK, now, you're safe."
I jerked awake, and tried to move, but he was sitting on my legs, facing me. "Si-Si-Sir? Did I pass the test?"
"Oh, you passed alright, with flying colors. And it's just David from now on, Jamesy. Turn on your side." As I did, he rubbed cream on my red ass, and throbbing, sore, hole. Then, the biggest shock of all, he put his arm over me, and one furry leg. "Just go to sleep now, James. It will all be OK in the morning."
But would it? While we were hiking out of the mountains the next morning, I wondered if David would dream up even more humiliating tests of endurance and pain to put me through. Being held by him, the first boy to ever do such a thing, made me sleep a heavenly sleep that night, though.