Happy Thanksgiving, and here's something truly to give thanks for. Eric promised he'd get me something before the holiday, and he did, another great chapter. I'll post it in two parts, the first below, the second on Saturday.
Chapter 43
The Next Level
Logan picked me up after school Tuesday, two days after he had tied me down on my bedroom floor and kicked me in the balls until I soaked my shorts with cum. I got barefooted right away, stuffing my socks inside my shoes and dropping them on the back floorboard. I didn’t need to be told. That had been my routine for more than a year now.
But not everything was routine that day. I knew something was different right away. Normally, we would turn left at the stop sign and head to his house, sometimes stopping by McDonald’s for burgers and fries on the way. But this time we turned right. That was the way to my house.
Logan pulled the car around back where we usually parked. Reaching over me, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out the set of handcuffs we kept stashed there. On his orders, I unbuttoned my shirt and removed it, slipped off my undershirt, and wadded them together on the front passenger seat I had just vacated. Logan met me at the rear of the car and fastened my hands behind my back, clicking the cuffs pretty tight. I followed him inside entering through the garage, walking up the steps and through the kitchen door. He took me straight to my bedroom.
Pulling back the bedcovers a bit, he grabbed one of my pillows and dropped it lengthwise in the middle of the bed. He unzipped my jeans, letting them drop to my ankles. He made me step out of them, which left me wearing nothing but white briefs. He kicked my jeans aside.
He retrieved a towel from the bathroom and spread it across the pillow.
“We wouldn’t want you messing up your pillow, now would we,” said Logan.
Logan instructed me to mount the pillow. Reluctantly, I lay on the bed with my head towards the foot. I wiggled my way on top of the towel.
“Start humping,” he ordered.
I wavered, glaring up at him, half in pity and half in disgust.
“Logan, please don’t make me do this.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Logan. “Hold on just a minute.”
I knew I had screwed up. He grabbed a wide leather belt hanging inside the closet door. I had several to choose from. He blistered my back with ten vicious lashes.
“Start fucking the pillow now or I’ll tear the skin off your back.”
Halfheartedly, I began rubbing back and forth humping the pillow. I buried my face into the bedcovers in disgrace as I worked. When I needed air, I turned my face to the wall, purposefully avoiding the disgrace of looking Logan in the eye. I rubbed on the pillow for several minutes, a task made more difficult by having my hands cuffed behind me. I hoped he would let me stop soon.
“Is your little dick even hard yet?” Logan asked.
I nodded a weak “yes,” mumbling the word as I nodded, still facing the wall.
Logan made me roll over onto my back. Satisfied that my dick was about to rip a hole through the cloth, he made me mount the pillow again. I rubbed and rubbed until my thighs burned and my breathing grew heavy. My forehead and hair were damp with sweat.
“Are you close yet?” Logan asked, growing impatient as he waited for me to cum.
I shook my head “no.” I knew I was still far away from that. Logan ordered me to turn my head and face him. He watched me hump the pillow for a few more minutes, delighting in my humiliation.
“Let me give you some incentive,” said Logan.
He raised the belt, still in his hand, and blistered my back with ten wicked lashes. He followed with ten brutal blows across my butt. He made me draw my legs together and gave me ten stripes from my thighs to the soles of my feet. I was shivering from the stinging pain when the whipping was done. He ordered me to resume humping the pillow.
Now having proper motivation, I rubbed with vigor. Every couple of minutes Logan blistered me with lashes from the belt. Each time I rubbed with even more energy until I was attacking the pillow with my cock.
Logan whipped me steadily from my shoulders to my feet as I humped. At some point, nearing orgasm, I no longer felt the terrible thrashing. I'm sure it stung badly, but the pain never registered on my brain.
Finally, every muscle in my body locked with incredible tension. I howled with loud moans and shot a load of hot cum into my briefs.
I pumped stream after stream of semen. I continued to hump the pillow until every involuntary, delightful thrust of my dick had stopped and every drop of cum had flowed out. Nothing feels worse than a ruined orgasm, and I wasn’t about to have one.
After the intense orgasm, I was deathly still, all of my energy drained. I was completely exhausted as if I had just finished the roughest twenty minute workout of my life. My entire body was drenched with sweat. I panted as if I had just sprinted a mile. My heart thumped hard in my chest. I could hear the rapid beats. Every muscle in my body, even the small ones in my toes, ached and burned. I felt immense shame, yet a calming peace overwhelmed me. I felt such a sense of gratification. The mixed emotions were incredible.
Logan whipped me with a dozen more lashes after I was done. I didn’t care. I was immune to the sting. Semen oozed everywhere, at first boiling hot but quickly cooling down. My briefs were soaked with cum, and some of the semen had leaked through onto the towel. Cum covered me from my thighs to my belly button.
“Did you do it?” Logan asked.
He knew I had. The smell was powerful and my reaction at the moment of orgasm was unmistakable. But I nodded a bashful “yes” to his question, once again diverting my eyes away from him.
Logan ordered me to roll over onto my back so that he could inspect the deed. Very pleased, he tossed the pillow I had just fucked aside, along with the soiled towel. He ordered me to spin around so that my head pointed towards the headboard. He retrieved some ropes from my closet, where we kept a plentiful supply hidden. He spread my legs apart and tied my ankles to the corners of the bed.
I stared at the ceiling, my arms still fastened underneath me. My shoulders were killing me. I winced in pain as the tight metal cuffs cut into my wrists. Though I was a runt at 120 pounds, the weight seemed concentrated at my wrists. I found no position of relief no matter how much I wiggled. I was completely spent, still trying to catch my breath.
“I’ll be back in an hour.”
“No, Logan. You can’t leave me here like this. What if my mom comes home and finds me? What am I going to say?”
I was panicked. My mother was scheduled to work late all week, which she often did. I knew that she wouldn’t be home until after seven o’clock, but I also knew that Logan’s sense of time was awful. I would be lucky if he beat her home.
“Tell her that a burglar broke in and tied you up,” said Logan.
He was very dismissive and uncaring. To him the point was moot because he planned to return in plenty of time. I protested vehemently until he stuffed a wad of cloth into my mouth and taped it in place to shut me up.
“I’ll lock the bedroom door,” said Logan as he left. "That way she can't come in."
Suddenly, he was gone, driving my car to a friend’s house across town to shoot pool. Logan had my key, the only one to my bedroom door. Still, I was extremely paranoid the rest of the afternoon. If my mom did get home first, maybe she wouldn’t even know I was there if I stayed really quiet.
I could see the minutes tick away on the nightstand clock. Watching it made the time crawl by, but I couldn’t help it. Just as I figured, one hour stretched into two. Half an hour past that, Logan finally returned with time to spare.
Logan untied me. I cleaned up, changed into fresh underwear, put on some clothes and drove him home. I ate supper at his house that night, and we hung out there watching television afterwards, just as if nothing had happened. Yet I knew that our relationship had moved to another level.
Twice in three days, Logan had made me cum in front of him. Many times I had masturbated after a strenuous session of bondage and torture or after a passionate bondage fantasy. But those times had always been very private.
In my naïveté, I thought I was the only boy in the world who masturbated regularly to such bizarre thoughts. Surely other boys didn’t do dirty stuff like that. I couldn't imagine Logan, Dylan, Graham or any of my friends jacking off four nights a week. I always felt so gay and filthy afterwards. Having someone catch me would have been horrifying.
Never had it crossed my mind that Logan would incorporate such a deeply personal activity into our games. Yet now he had. For some reason I believed that I deserved to be humiliated, but I had never considered they would make me masturbate.
For the next few weeks, Logan repeated the scene many times. At least once or twice a week, he took me to my house after school, made me hump a pillow and then tied me up while he played pool at Eddie's house.
[Continued on Saturday]
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