With friends like these, who needs enemies
This story features non-consensual sex between adult males. If this is not to your liking, I suggest you close your browser. If reading about that is not allowed where you are ... well, do you feel lucky, Punk?
"Throw me another beer, Tom," Alan says, as he crunches up the empty can and chucks it over his shoulder.
"What's the magic word?"
"Throw me another beer ... now?"
We laugh at the stale joke. Tom picks a can from the cooler and gives it a sneaky shake while his body hides it from his victim. A fountain of foam erupts when Alan pops the lid, soaking his shirt and crotch. His swearing is drowned by the laughter from the rest of us.
The four of us, Alan, Tom, Doug and I, are house mates from Edinburgh Uni, 20 and 21 year olds and good friends, despite the constant teasing banter. Or perhaps I should qualify that. Tom is a very good friend - my best friend, in fact. He is genuinely nice, generous and always good for a laugh. Doug is okay, although deep down he really is a bit of a bore; a 50-year-old man in 20-year-old body. Alan usually is great fun, but unfortunately he can be an arse too if the mood takes him. And he definitely is a lazy cunt. So, let's say that we are goodish friends ... generally.
Yesterday, we decided to take an impromptu camping trip, staying in a remote wooded area east of Loch Lomond, with only a couple of tents, camping chairs, a stove and a cooler full of beer to keep us company. And a few bottles of whisky. Oh, and some bottles of gin, but that is just to make the tonic palatable, so that doesn't count.
"We should have a butler to provide us with drinks, really. Someone classy who doesn't shake the cans," Alan says with a frown at Tom. "He could tidy up this tip as well."
"You want a slave, really," I reply, knowing that Alan is the laziest guy on earth, who would gladly let anyone clean up his rubbish for him. I say "anyone", but in reality it is usually his girlfriend Hannah, or otherwise us three.
"Yeah, good idea. We should have a slave. Let's draw straws to make one of us slave for the day. The slave will be responsible for bringing drinks, preparing food, and basically doing everything the others tell him to do." That is typically Alan, who'll grasp any opportunity to be served hand and foot. I now wish I hadn't mentioned slaves.
Doug looks doubtful – like I feel, to be honest – but doesn't object. Tom, up for anything anytime, is already collecting a couple of straws. I sincerely hope that Alan will get his comeuppance, but after he has drawn first he smiles and triumphantly wags a long straw at us. Doug too manages to pick a long straw, and it is therefore up to me to decide whether it is going to be Tom or me who has to do all the hard work today.
Left or right? I have a good look at the two stubs that stick out above Tom's fingers, but cannot distinguish anything that might give me a clue about their lengths. Left or right? Left or Right?
Left!
Damn!
"Euan, clear up that pile of tins, and hang my sleeping bag over the tent to get it some fresh air."
Sighing, I get up and begin my duties.
"And a new beer, unshaken. Stat!"
For 11 hours, I fetch and carry, clear up the camping spot, wash Alan's underwear in the stream, cook our dinner and bring beer and G&Ts. Bring them lots of beer and more than a few G&Ts. For 11 hours, Doug, Tom and Alan sit around talking nonsense, pointing and yelling at me to work harder. They go into the forest for a piss and I have to accompany them to hold their drinks while they do their business. They go swimming while I stand by with their towels until they order me to dry their backs and reapply sun screen. And they drink the beers that I bring them. And the G&Ts.
After dinner time, Alan had suddenly asked whether it is acceptable for a house slave to be dressed just like its owners. A democratic vote – with slaves disenfranchised – unanimously decided that in fact they should not be dressed like normal people. So, for the past three hours I have been stark naked except for a towel wrapped around my privates like a Gandhi-style loincloth.
It is only for tonight, I remind myself, and that is the one fact that makes it bearable. I resolve to give tomorrow's slave a hard time, especially if it is Alan.
"We need to make sure that our slave doesn't escape tonight," he remarks as the evening gets late. There is a bit of a slur, but for guys who've been drinking for 11 hours solid, they still sound remarkably sober. "Perhaps we should tie him to that tree?"
Tom laughs and concurs. "Everyone knows that slaves run away from their rightful owners, given the slightest chance."
"Hey, guys, ... guys! Don't you dare ..."
My struggles are no match for three strong young men - I am the shortest and least muscular of the group - and between them, they pick me up and carry me to the tree. Tom, who grew up spending weekends on his Dad's yacht, efficiently ties my wrists together on the other side of the narrow trunk.
"Put him on his belly and hold on to his legs," Tom says, "I'll get something to restrain them."
Ten minutes later I am lying flat on my stomach with my arms tied around the tree and a five-foot tree branch strapped between my ankles. My friends have pulled up their chairs and sit around me, resting their feet on my back. Every time I open my mouth to plead for my release I get a kick in the ribs, until Alan gets my used briefs, pushes them into my mouth and ties it off with a length of cord. "I can't stand a moaning slave."
For while they just sit, chat and drink, ignoring me.
"Oh, just fuck it!" Alan suddenly says and he walks off, to return a minute later with a pillow and a bottle of olive oil. "Hannah hasn't allowed me into her bed for weeks, I've had a raging hardon since Thursday and I need to empty my nuts badly."
He rips away the towel that hides my blushes and pushes the pillow under my belly, lifting my arse. Surely not! This cannot be happening. He must come to his senses. Or one of the others will stop him. He cannot just go and rape me, can he? I can't believe he will.
"What is a slave for if not to satisfy its owner?"
Numbed by beer and whisky, Tom and Doug look on with little interest, while Alan kneels between my widely spread legs and dribbles some oil into my crack. A finger spreads it along, gently pushing into my hole up to the first knuckle. I wriggle and shout into my gag, trying to get him to stop, but my shouts are ignored and my struggles are limited by the restraints. Alan's trousers drop down around his knees and over my shoulder I see him oil up his engorged dick. When he lies down on top of me, I can feel the tip of his cock pressing between my cheeks, slowly building the pressure. I clench my arse to keep him out, realising resistance will be useless but unable to help myself. Alan grunts in my ear, pushing hard to break through my defences. When suddenly his tool breaches my ring and thrusts hard and deep into me, my brain is fried by the piercing agony in my torn arse. With another couple of shunts, he is buried up to his balls inside my gut.
Swearing, Alan fucks me with long strokes, groaning with every stroke. My screams falter as the strain on my throat begins to tell.
"Jesus, Alan," Doug interrupts and for a moment my hopes raise that he is going to stop this. "Don't wear him out completely, you're not the only one with an itch that needs scratching." I turn my head to face him, and see how, through his trousers, he is rubbing his crotch.
The fucking motions are becoming frenzied and Alan grunts, slams his cock deep into my bowels before I feel a warm flood inside my gut. Four or five more thrusts and shots fill me up before he relaxes with a satisfied sigh.
"God, I needed that!"
Doug is already standing by, naked and erect, ready to take Alan's place as soon as he pulls his waning cock from me. Almost immediately, I feel another dick being fed into my behind. Long but thinner it slides in without difficulty. In character, Doug takes his time, taking me with long slow strokes, building almost leisurely to a climax. The worst of the pain has gone, even if the feelings of despair and betrayal haven't.
"Tom? Wanna have a go too?"
Doug has shot his load into my gut and pulls out. It is quiet for a moment, giving me hope that at least my best friend won't abuse me and that the ordeal might be over.
Tom loosens his belt and drops his trousers.
"Why the hell not. I've never owned a slave before and may never again, so might as well make use of this one while I can. And besides, Alison doesn't take it up the arse, and I have always wanted to give that a try. It is supposed to be the ultimate fuck experience."
Tom and I play 5-a-side football together. I have seen him in the nude during post-match showers and therefore I know that he is hung – and I mean seriously hung. This is the first time however, that I've seen him fully erect and what I see is even scarier than anything I could have imagined. Fully hard now, the giant shaft that stands up proud from Tom's crotch is at least a foot in length and has the width of a beer can – easily.
Moaning into the gag, I beg him with my eyes not to do this to me. I mean, we are friends, we have been best mates for a couple of years. He stares back brazenly, however, slaps my arse and tells me to look away immediately, because "a slave doesn't look at his master like that."
Without pause and without extra lube, he lines up his monster and pushes at my hole, forcing my arse to open wider than possible. Still it won't go in, but he doesn't let up, thrusting and pressing until his bulbous head pops into me with the searing sensation of torn flesh. I scream high-pitched into my gag begging him to stop.
"Fuck that feels good," he says, while he forcefully drives his manhood deeper inside my arse, "Christ, that is so tight! I really didn't think I would fit into him."
He finds the passage to my bowels, and I feel how his colossal rock-hard monster forces itself further into the centre of my body. The excruciating agony of the initial invasion has died away, but the feeling of my gut being stretched around the massive pole is almost as unbearable. Tom bucks and drives his cock mercilessly, and it just keeps coming. Every thrust opens up another inch of gut, each deeper and further inside me than before. Each causing a new burning pain deep inside my body.
"Wow, he is taking every inch of that thing," Doug moans. "Imagine that beast being rammed up your arse."
"To be fair, he doesn't have much choice."
With half a dozen more thrusts, Tom finally bottoms out and swears.
"Take that, slave-boy," he viciously whispers into my ear, keeping his mammoth cock embedded to the hilt in my backside. "That is 13 inches of my massive fuck-pole filling your gut, and now all those inches of rock-hard meat are going to breed you like the prize bitch you really are."
The giant invader pulls out of my gut until just the head remains, pauses for a moment, then Tom rams it back in - too fast and too hard.
"Fuck you and breed you long and hard." He is holding still again. "Fuck you so hard that your gut will tear from your arse. Breed you until my cum fills every inch of your belly. And I hope you will enjoy it, because there is nothing that is going to stop it happening."
He begins to fuck me in earnest now, pulling out slowly before he drives his huge hard cock back into me with all his force. Out, and thrust back in again – even more violently. I scream in agony as my gut gets ripped repeatedly by the assault from Tom's monster. Pulled out and driven in hard, always deeper into me than it had been before. Long ferocious strokes, ramming every monstrous inch of his horse cock deep into my body, pummelling my organs until I am crying in pain, begging him for mercy.
He is fucking me without restraint now, wildly, instinctively, without self-control and utterly without pity for the friend at the receiving end of his overpowering fury. An untamed stallion only living in the moment, a feral beast driven by lust.
Perhaps it felt longer than it really was, or perhaps he really did manage to keep up this punishing rape for about 20 or 30 minutes. Finally though, even Tom shoots his seed into my gut and collapses panting on top of my battered restrained body.
"Christ, that was the best fuck I ever had," he sighs as he finally pulls out several minutes later, "and that by a huge margin. I wish Alison would let me do that to her, because if tonight is anything to go by, I would gladly fuck arse every day until I die."
For a while, nobody speaks, then without a word Tom gets up and walks into the woods. When he returns he has another couple of tree branches and some lengths of rope. "We need to secure him properly for the night. He might be able to undo his hands like this or he might pull up his knees and his hands close enough to free his ankles."
He unties my wrists and reattaches them to the ends of the longer branch, which is tied to the base of the tree. The second thinner pole he slowly pushes into my arse. I groan in agony; the rough wood cuts into my flesh as it probes deeper and deeper until it seems to poke my stomach. Tom ties it to the bar between my ankles.
"Every time he moves his legs the motion transfers straight to the attached branch, driving it further up his arse. I think we can be confident he is not going to try anything too vigorous tonight."
As you can imagine, it is the worst night of my life. Lying naked spread-eagled on the forest floor, shivering with cold. Every movement I make, results in a piercing pain in my gut, as the sharp edges of the wooden pole are pushed in ever deeper. I watch as the eastern sky becomes lighter, waiting for the new day and fearing what will happen when it starts.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Alan looks at my tied up body. "I was hoping it was just a weird dream. We're screwed, guys. Oh, fuck!"
"Okay, let's stay calm, dude. Let's consider our options before we panic."
"Calm?! Options?! We gangbanged a fellow student, Tom." Alan almost screams. "Tied him up and raped him violently. What options?!"
"And yet, there are no witnesses who saw us do anything, other than the three of us. As long as nobody talks, there is no suggestion anything bad happened. And when nobody knows anything bad happened then there is no problem."
"But Euan is going to complain, surely," Doug adds.
"... Well, in that case we'll just have to make sure he doesn't, don't we?"
Oh God, they are going to kill me.
"How about this for a solution. The house the four of us share has a cellar that is never used, right? And I own the place after inheriting it from my Nan, so no landlord to ask awkward questions. I suggest we stay here until tonight, wrap him in a tent and smuggle him into the house in the middle of the night. We will gag the bitch, chain him to one of the metal rings in the cellar wall, and hide the trapdoor with a rug. After a week or two, we'll call his parents and ask whether he is with them, as we haven't seen him for a while. Nobody knows he's in the cellar, nobody knows the cellar even exists. As long as we get him food every few days, he can stay there permanently without any risk."
Alan's eyes bulge. "You want to lock him up in the cellar forever?"
"He's our friend, Tom, we cannot do that," Doug adds.
"Firstly, he's our slave, remember. We can do to him whatever we want. Secondly, whatever happens I am not going to prison. I won't throw away a glittering future over a worthless bloody sex-slave. So unless you have a better idea, he is going into the cellar."
Neither Doug or Alan came up with an alternative, and while I would gladly have agreed never to talk about their secret in exchange for my freedom, my groaning into the gag is roundly ignored.
"We'll get him a mattress and we'll bring him food, but he can never be allowed out. We'll need a steel collar, a couple of yards of chain and a heavy padlock to make sure of that. And with some good soundproofing around the trapdoor, he doesn't even need to wear the gag permanently."
He unties the pole in my arse, and yanks it out.
"Good, if we are all agreed on that, then I think I'll have another go at this hole here, because I seem to have this vague recollection that this bitch has an amazing arse, and with nothing better to do today, I might as well have another dig at it."
He lubes up his monstrous erection and kneels between my widespread legs.
"Actually, I think I might just enjoy having a sex-slave with a fuckable arse in the house 24/7 from now on."
THE END