Chapter 25
Part 3
One on One
Later that afternoon, Logan and Dylan’s spirits were up again. They taunted me. Challenged me.
I decided to involve them in some friendly competition. I told them they were going to play a game of one-on-one basketball, one point per basket, win by two. The game was to 21. The loser would receive 30 lashes with a belt to be delivered by the winner.
I figured Logan would win, although I was pulling for Dylan. Logan was the better basketball player, but Dylan was maturing as an athlete and would give him a good game, especially with high stakes riding on the outcome.
The game was very competitive, and they appeared to enjoy it. You would have thought they were playing for the national championship. Dylan felt the effects of the earlier torture, especially as the game wore on. The punishment he had taken had drained a lot of energy. He also favored his right foot where a thick thorn had pierced him during the torture. But he wasn’t a boy to complain much or make excuses. He was a competitor.
Despite his disadvantages, Dylan had a late lead in the game, but Logan tied it up. They went several points beyond 21 before Logan finally managed the required two point margin of victory.
I took them back into the woods. I made Dylan remove his shirt. His back bore the scrape marks from the pine tree earlier in the morning. A little blood had seeped onto his tee shirt, but it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. The belt lashes were going to cause the wounds to sting, though.
I strung him up to a tree limb with his hands overhead until his heels were off the ground. I tied his feet together with rope. I handed the belt to Logan and warned him to make the whipping good or he would get the next thirty lashes himself. I guess I had recovered somewhat from my earlier meltdown in the bathroom.
I told Dylan that if he yelled out, I would gag him with the jockstrap again. He nodded that he understood and braced for the punishment.
Logan blistered Dylan’s back with the first ten lashes. I made him pause a couple of minutes to let Dylan catch his breath and prepare for the next ten. After twenty lashes, Dylan’s back was covered with red stripes. I told Logan to pause again, but after just a few seconds, Dylan said, “Let’s just get it over with.”
Dylan took the final set of ten of lashes. About midway through the whipping, Dylan pulled on his ropes so hard I thought he would pull the limb down on his head. He lifted his toes off the ground and hung in the air for a few seconds. He cursed under his breath a lot, but he never cried out. He took the final ten lashes with his eyes closed and his head hung down. He never uttered a sound or made a move. For a moment I wondered if he had passed out, but he opened his eyes as soon as it was over. After I let him down, he untied his own feet. He slipped his shirt back on tenderly and we walked back to the house like nothing had happened.
Dylan was a really tough kid and could take a lot of shit. As I have said before, I sort of envied that about him.
At home, Logan and Dylan took hot showers to wash off the filth from the day. That night, Saturday night, the boys spent the night at my house. When it came time for bed, I decided to tie them up in a special way. I had dreamed of doing this for awhile and looked forward to it.
I told both of them to use the bathroom because I wasn’t going to untie them during the night even if they pissed in bed. Then I made both of them strip to their briefs.
I tied Logan down first, spreadeagle face up on my queen-sized bed. As I secured the ropes binding his wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed, I made sure the ropes were tight. I wanted to restrict his movement, but I didn’t want to cut off the circulation. He was going to be tied up all night.
Once I had Logan tied down well, I made Dylan climb on top of him facing the foot of the bed. I made Dylan lay stretched out atop Logan, face down, with his head buried in Logan’s crotch.
I stretched Dylan’s arms out and tied them to the same corners where Logan’s ankles were tied. Dylan’s left wrist was tied to the same corner as Logan’s left ankle. Dylan’s right wrist was tied to the same corner as Logan’s right ankle.
I spread Dylan’s legs apart and secured his ankles to the corners where Logan’s wrists were secured. Dylan was now tied spreadeagle face down on top of Logan.
My original intention was to tie them up in the 69 position with each other’s face buried in his brother’s crotch. That was my scheme, but I failed to consider that Logan was a little taller than Dylan. Still, Logan’s chin was wedged into Dylan’s ass and that was good enough for me. Maybe Dylan would fart a few times during the night.
You can imagine that a couple of all-American straight boys like Logan and Dylan did not like being tied up this way. Especially Dylan. He protested, even hesitated, when I first gave the order. I thought he might refuse, which would have been a challenge to my authority. But he obeyed me in the end. We all usually honored our promises and our debts, even if sometimes we didn’t like it.
Dylan kept turning his head so that his nose was not in Logan’s crotch. I grabbed a handful of his hair each time and shoved his face hard into it. I blistered his back with my belt a couple of times until he finally got the message. Logan yelled at Dylan and told him to “just do what he says!” All of Dylan’s resistance was painful for Logan, too.
I left the lamp on and watched them for awhile, laughing at them. I told Dylan he looked like a faggot with his face in Logan’s crotch. I could tell it made him mad. I knew it would, so I did it again. The second time, he tried to break free. I knew he wanted to beat the hell out of me. Back then, calling a southern boy a faggot was the ultimate insult. It would get you an ass cutting quick. Dylan was in no position to take care of business now, but I would pay dearly later. But that was just what I wanted to happen. I wanted to get him mad and motivated, and I believe I accomplished that well.
I made me a little bed for myself on the floor with my sleeping bag and a pillow. It was a pleasant night, not too warm or cool. I turned off the lamp and lay down. I was sure Dylan would take the liberty to move his head as soon as the light went off. That was fine. I had gotten what I wanted.
It took them awhile to fall asleep, but eventually I heard their soft snores. I could barely sleep just thinking about them tied up. I sat up and watched them again in the middle of the night. Enough moonlight shone through the window for me to see and enjoy. Dylan’s cheek was turned towards Logan’s crotch and he had drooled all over Logan’s briefs, right over Logan’s dick. Priceless. To this day I get erections remembering that.
Morning came all too quickly. All night I wondered how many times they each developed erections while they slept. I knew that guys, especially teenaged boys filled with hormones, develop many erections during sleep. I could just picture Logan’s stiff boner pressing into Dylan’s cheek or Dylan’s dick stretching out along Logan’s chest. I dreamed about one of them having a wet dream. Wouldn’t that have been icing on the cake? Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.
Sunday morning we slept late because we didn’t plan to go to church that day. My mother had relatives coming over that afternoon, so she wanted to clean the house. Since she was staying home, she didn’t make us go to church either. She knocked on my bedroom door to wake us up about 10:00. Fortunately, the door was locked so she couldn’t see Logan and Dylan still tied up. They had been tied up since about 11:30 the night before.
I untied one of Logan's hands and left it to him to untie himself and Dylan the rest of the way. It took several minutes, which I enjoyed watching, but working together they managed. Once they were up, I ordered both of them to their knees, side by side. I ordered them to thank me for tying them up all night. I knew that would piss them off. Dylan looked at me with eyes to kill, but he and Logan both obeyed me.
They were stiff as boards all morning. They were sore from nearly 24 hours of abuse. I knew how that felt.
We grabbed some toast and orange juice my mother made for us, and we hung around the house for a couple of hours. We left at noon before my annoying relatives came.
I took the boys back to their house. I planned to tie them up over those kerosene barrels in the woods they loved stretching me over. I was going to torture them all afternoon, if I still had the nerve. I had told them so the night before because I wanted them to be mentally prepared.
It was about 12:30 when we got to the spot. I made them strip completely naked and pile their clothes at the base of a tree.
This time I tied Dylan down first. I tied his hands in front of him with rope and made him lay on his back across the barrel with the length of the barrel perpendicular to his spine. I spread his legs wide apart and tied his feet to stakes in the ground. His feet did not reach the ground. The stakes were already there. They had used them to tie me plenty of times over the past six months.
Once Dylan’s feet were tied, I moved to the other side of the barrel. I pulled his arms back over his head. His hands were already bound. I tied another rope to the rope on his hands and pulled his arms until they were stretched straight out as far as they could go. I pulled until he groaned and I knew it was hurting. I secured his hands to a stake. His back was bent like a crescent moon over the barrel, and I knew from experience his lower back would be in pain very soon.
Once I had Dylan tied down, I tied Logan the same way on the barrel next to him. The barrels were in a line, with the closest ends maybe three feet apart.
I had the jockstraps with me, which I had originally planned to use as gags. Instead, I decided to pull off my socks and shoes. I stuffed a sock into each of their mouths and taped it in place. I turned the socks inside out as they loved to do to me. I slipped the jockstraps over their faces so that the crotches were over their noses. I taped the jockstraps down with another strip of tape over their mouths so the jockstraps would not slide off. The jockstraps were crusty and smelled rank.
I sat down and watched them for an hour. Often they tied me up for a good while before they did any rough stuff to me. It always worked to soften me up. I figured I would return the favor. The sun was pretty warm, and even though the trees provided some shade, they didn’t block all the sun. Soon their bodies began to glisten with sweat. I loved looking at their bodies, stretched out and helpless. I didn’t think it was a gay thing at the time. I mean, I didn’t have any desire to jump on them and rape them. I just loved the sight of their gorgeous bodies tied down the way they were.
I checked the ropes from time to time. I always liked to make sure they were secure.
I had brought a bag full of torture implements with me. I had brought pliers to squeeze fingers and toes. I had brought a razor and some Ben Gay. I was going to shave an area of their balls and rub on some of the deep heating ointment. I would bet the farm they had no idea how much that would hurt. I had brought some long candles to drip hot wax on them. I had brought clothespins for their nipples. I had other stuff in the bag as well to inflict assorted pain to various body parts.
After the first hour, I clamped clothespins on their nipples. I made sure the jaws grabbed plenty of meat as they bit down. That got a good reaction from them, and I noticed fifteen or twenty minutes later they were squirming much more.
At this point, I should have begun torturing them. But honestly, I didn’t want to. In the first place, I was content just watching them. In the second place, I felt horrible after hurting Dylan the day before. Yes, I wanted to experience the abuse; but he didn’t. I felt sick when his body went limp tied to that tree. I felt something was wrong with me. I couldn’t torture them again, not today.
I sat down on the ground and continued watching. Enjoying. When the second hour passed, I decided to remove the clothespins. I lifted the first one off Dylan’s right nipple. He gasped for air, but of course he was gagged. He gave an awful groan. Then I removed the second pin receiving much the same reaction. I had worn enough clothespins on nipples, balls, ear lobes and everywhere else to know they hurt far worse coming off than staying on.
I took the clothespins off Logan. I enjoyed his reaction, too. Then I removed the jockstraps and the sock gags from both boys. I left them tied across the barrels. We listened in silence to birds chirp for a good ten minutes.
“Let’s talk,” I said after the pause.
I told them I didn’t want to torture them any more. I said that I was convinced they were more than willing to take it as well as dish it out, and that was enough for me. I told them I preferred to be the recipient of the abuse. I did not enjoy hurting them.
I wanted to make sure they still would abide by my other terms, that is to have more torture sessions with me and to tie me up more.
I added something else. I told them I would love for them to find a way to tie me up with another person sometimes. I explained that was the reason I tied them up Saturday night the way I did. I wanted them to remember to do it with me. I loved being tied body to body, but it happened rarely.
I didn’t put it in those terms. That would have sounded gay to them. I left it up to them to figure out how it might happen, but I suggested that their cousin Graham might be a possibility. Graham had played these games with us before, and he came to visit often enough.
They promised I would not be disappointed whenever they owned me again. They promised I would get my fill of bondage. Dylan told me I should go ahead and get my money’s worth out of them now because they would show no mercy when they took over. I felt he was almost taunting me to torture them.
“I won’t torture you any more,” I said. “I just ask you to follow my orders for the next four days, and then you take over Friday.”
I untied them, and we went back to their house.
We went out for pizza Sunday night. No shoes for them, of course. Nowadays restaurants will not let you in barefooted, but back then it wasn’t a concern.
Dylan and I had baseball practice Monday after school, so we didn’t do much that day in terms of our special relationship. We played our final baseball game of the season Tuesday night. We played on the road in a playoff game and lost out.
Most of the guys dressed on the bus during away games just before we reached our destination. Dylan and a few others, mostly the younger guys, usually dressed before boarding except for the jerseys and cleats. A lot of guys don’t like dressing and undressing in front of other guys.
This time I made Dylan dress on the bus. I made sure he had none of his uniform on, especially the jockstrap and his protective cup. I wanted him to have to strip naked at least from the waist down to get that on. Probably no one paid attention, but I know it embarrassed him. It was just a little extra incentive to make sure he made me pay later.
Wednesday and Thursday we took it pretty easy, especially since baseball was now over. We had time to relax. We just enjoyed being friends those last two days. Both days we went to a joint in town where a lot of kids hung out after school. We shot pool until dark. I made Logan and Dylan wash my car and clean it out good Thursday after we got home, but that was about it. It took them a couple of hours to get it clean the way I wanted.
I left their house Thursday night around 9:00. My six days were up. We said our goodbyes, and I reminded them they owned me starting Friday morning when I picked them up for school.
“Oh, we know,” Logan said. The way he said it was a little scary.
I gave them one last bit of encouragement to make the next four months something special. I told them to give me their best shot and see what I could take.
“You won't be disappointed,” he said. “I promise you’ll never forget it.”
Logan told me to wear my camouflage clothes when I picked them up in the morning. He meant the camouflage fatigues and matching buttoned shirt we bought last year. I never wore those to school. Usually I wore those only when the boys were “interrogating” me, as if I was a prisoner of war, although it had been awhile.
Now I was getting nervous. I had looked forward to this second term of slavery for the last several days, but now that we were hours away, I was having second thoughts. Maybe I had convinced them too well to turn up the heat.
I had no idea what a sell job I had done. And I never would have guessed the surprise they had in store for me ten hours later.
My curiousity is up, can't wait to read the next part of this story! Can the author tell us what year all of this took place in?
Posted by: Bondagebuddy | January 08, 2012 at 03:51 AM