Rivals Reunited Part 4
The muffled words begin first from Tyler. He had awoken from a strange sleep, his head buzzing. It was dark and close, hot.
He was disorientated. Where was he? He felt cramped and constrained. A hard concrete floor presses against his crotch, Something – a cloth or a bag - pressed against his face. And, more worrying, something soft and damp appeared to be crammed into his mouth.
He seemed to be lying on his front, face down, although the top half of his body seemed to be suspended, as if hanging from ropes. He reached out to move the offending object from his face... his hands stopped dead.
Something tight around his wrists preventing his hands from moving, binding them firmly behind his back.
He pulls. Nothing. Harder. The material bites into his wrists but shows no signs of budging. He starts struggling with his upper torso - some up and down movement is possible, but the restraints don’t allow much more.
A cold fear begins to flow through his veins. His first thought is to curse.
’what the f...’ he begins, but the words choke in his throat as they crash against the barrier blocking his mouth. Some sort of rag or cloth in his mouth. He also has difficulty forming words as his mouth won’t close for some reason – an obstruction between the teeth at each side of the mouth – rubbery, hard and unyielding. A word fills his mind – ‘gagged’.
A thought jabs at his subconscious – why put wedges on either side of his mouth but leave the front and centre of the mouth wide open, without obstruction at the front? For what purpose? It’s as if the mouth is being kept clear for something –for something to be inserted. He buries the thought back in his subconscious, unable to deal with the implications.
He realises with surprising clarity some of what has happened. He had been tied up. Someone, for reasons unknown, has tied him up.
Must be a practical joke. With a burst of strength, he pulls against his bindings, hoping for a sign, a hint that his is a half hearted attempt, a humorous joke. No such luck. He tries again, hoping his captor has failed in his attempt to control his mighty power. But the bindings refuse to give.
Another thought occurs. It’s that bastard Kraig, he thinks. I’ll kill him for this. He stops struggling and listens for a moment, trying to pick up familiar sounds, something that will give him a fix on his location. Nothing. Just the distant rumble of something, maybe a boiler or heating pipes? He certainly feels hot; he feels the familiar sensation of his sports singlet clinging to his flesh in pools of sweat. He decides to try to yell for help.
Bernard smiles as the first calls try to escape from the boy’s gagged mouth. The first of many sounds the boy would be making today. His attention switches to Kraig.
Kraig is drifting in and out of consciousness. He fells clammy and damp, and something is pressing over his face, restricting his breathing. His jaw feels sore from being wedged open. His arse is sore from the hard floor beneath it, and he is aware his legs are spread-eagled wide, and he is unable to move them due to some kind of binding holding them in place.
He can’t feel the weight of any clothes on his body. Somewhere nearby, almost directly in front he can hear another voice, mumbling, yelling, muffled.
‘Hey, what’s going on...’ he attempts to say. The other voice is silent for a moment. Them the yelling begins
‘grrt me the frrk owwt of hrrre’ yells the strangely familiar yet muffled voice. ‘nttie the frrrkng roppps’.
Kraig responds with his own line of muffled, gagged questions
‘whht th fcck grrring on, imm trred up’
The two boys begin to simultaneously struggle against their bindings, and Bernard cannot resist a giggle, for the binding positions he took so much time earlier to pose the slaves into are now adding to the evening’s entertainment.
The blond slave, who he has already renamed as slave 2 is lying face down on the floor, but the rope attached to the dog collar around his neck lifts his head and upper torso. The boy’s head suspended directly above the naked crotch of the Slave number 1.
Slave one’s spread-eagled legs pass either side of Slave 2’s prone body. As the two struggle against their bindings, Slave 1’s pelvis lifts up and down off the floor by a few inches, and with every upward movement the brown haired boy’s slack penis slaps gently against the blond boy’s mask.
Bernard looks forward to pulling off the blonde boy’s hood and seeing his expression at the sight before him, his rival’s 10 inch cock, just inches away from his face. Bernard decides he will try and get an erection out of the cock in time for the removal of the mask, for maximum humiliation, then he can initiate the first of many encounters between the boy’s mouths and their enemy’s crotches.
Bernard watches the struggling for a ten minutes, and is already feeling heavily aroused. He is a man of patience, and he wants this moment to last. But after ten more minutes the boys do not appear to have lost any of their energy and are still struggling as firmly as ever, still cursing and trying to yell from behind their gags.
He decides it is time to introduce the boys for their new lives. What shall we use first? He selects the riding crop from the small selection of toys which he had prepared for this first training session.
‘Be quiet’ he orders. He is impressed by the strength and tone of his own voice. For a moment there is silence, as the new voice echoes round the room, and then all hell breaks loose as both boys burst into similar mixtures of outrage, confusion and anger.
‘whww the fckk r u’
‘whht th fccc is ggng onn’
Time for a taste of the future. He takes the riding crop, and with an expert flick of the wrist, applies a sharp blow onto each of Kraig’s’ nipples, one swipe each.
Kraig cries out , more in surprise than pain. He turns his attention to the boy lying prone on the floor.
He grabs Tyler’s singlet, pulling it up sharply to reveal the broad muscular back below the bound wrists. The boy struggles harder than ever. Choosing his spot with care, he raises the riding crop and rains three hard blows down on the boys back, one after the other, one above the wrists and two below, just above the butt. Tyler swears and curses.
‘Be Quiet’
They continue to curse and struggle. He hadn’t expected the first lesson to work. He hadn’t wanted it to, either.
A repeat of the blows, harder this time, and twice the number
‘if you want to avoid pain, you will learn to do as I say’
The lesson has to be re-learnt a few more times before the facts sink in.
Now there is quiet. Bernard smiles. He decides to let one of the boys make the next move.
It is Tyler who falls into the trap, cautiously speaking into the silence.
‘Whww are yewAAAAGH!!!’
The boys question ends in a yell of pain as Bernard launches into a furious assault on the boy’s buttocks through the slim sports shorts , and then sweeping up and down the boy’s exposed back, slapping and striking with the short, brutal riding crop, watching the boy writhe and buck as the blows leave red marks across his skin. He is aware that Kraig is breathing heavily, his body shivering from adrenaline and fear at the crack noise of the riding crop and the yells of pain.
He wants them both to learn the lesson so he returns his attention to Kraig’s helpless form, striking the nipples mercilessly and then moving down his front, his flesh making satisfying slap noises as the brutal whip takes effect. He beats down, ever downwards, to just above the start of the boys curly pubic hair, then stops. He’ll take it that extra step later.
He stops the bombardment for now. ‘First rule is you only speak when I let you. And you will call me Master. You have new names. Your names are slave one and slave two’.
He lets that evil thought sink in. The boys are silent, shivering with indignation, fear and pain. A fine sheen of sweat coats each of their bodies. Bernard relishes the moment. He has repeated these words over and over in his head when jerking himself off over an imaginary victim. Now they are said out loud for the first time
‘that’s right, you are both now slaves. I have taken ownership of you. Your old life is over. You now have only one purpose, and that is to honour me through your bodies. You will perform whatever acts I see fit, on me, on yourselves, on each other, on whoever or whatever I bring to you. You have spent your lives creating and perfecting your perfect bodies as a physical sacrifice to me, and you will gladly give me your body and souls for as long as I see fit to use them. If you do not satisfy me you will be punished. If you do not carry out my wishes to the finest detail you will be punished. In fact, if I just feel like it, you will be punished. You will learn that your only purpose for existence is to pleasure me.’
The boys remain silent apart from heavy, laboured breathing.
They need some time for this to all sink in. He rises from the chair, as quietly as possible – he does not want them to know he has left the room - and goes upstairs into the cool darkness of the Gymnasium lobby.
For an hour he paces the halls, desperate to go back down but aware that his psychological warfare must continue as planned. He drinks more water. Takes a shower. Finally, when he can stand it no more, he returns silently to the basement.
He kneels down next to the boys and listens to the sound of their breathing. He reaches out.
Tyler’s head is spinning. The words of his abductor go round and round in his head – it can’t be real, can it? Whatever else, he knows for certain that the searing pain across his back and buttocks is real. The room has been silent for what seems like half a day – has the tormentor gone?
Neither he nor the other boy in the room has uttered a sound. He wants to speak to his fellow captive, try and find out who he is, why they are there, how they will escape this madman, but he dare not open his mouth for risk of that searing pain coming again. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Someone is near, very near to him. He almost senses their presence.
Bernard simultaneously lays one hand on Kraig’s muscular Pecs, and the other on Tyler’s beautiful butt, running the fingers into the very top of the crack, admiring the smoothness and velvet-like perfection of the beautiful flesh. He savours the sharp intake of breath from both boys as they experience the first flesh to flesh contact
Tyler knows what it is almost before it touches him. A hand. A Man’s hand, touches him intimately the small of his back, and slides slowly, unstoppably, down towards the crack of his butt.
Tyler pulls and bucks against the intimacy but the hand remains contact, reaching the elastic waistband of the shorts, pausing briefly, before sliding underneath, cupping first his left buttock then his right, fondling, then forcing the cheeks apart as it explores further, entering the sweaty gap between the cheeks, moving on, no, it can’t possibly be heading there, no, stoppp... the fingers find their target, and, with slow and expert precision, begin to rub the soft flesh around the hole. He tenses up, in shock, truly understanding for the first time the meaning of the phrase ‘violated’
And then –oh god no, you can’t- he wants to yell out in horror, but he has already absorbed his first lesson and fears the return of the whip. But –one finger is... no, it’s too unbelievable, too evil... one finger is probing into the hole, moving cautiously but firmly...inside. Entering him against his will. He can’t believe what is happening. The finger enters, just half an inch at first, then more, and begins to rub, to move round and round the inside edge of his hole.
Kraig is tensed up, shocked by the intimacy of the unwanted contact, twisting and turning his body as much as is possible within the restraints to remove the intruder but the hand carries on, regardless, moving on from was rubbing his right Pec and advancing to the nipple, The fingers now playfully but forcefully begin kneading, pinching and twisting, roughly, painfully, manipulating the flesh of the nipple, creating their own sensations of disgust and invasion.
His body, his perfectly formed body, which he has built to an instrument of perfection, is being stolen. And not just stolen, but stolen by another man, a stranger. No one touches him there. The only one who ever did was his first girlfriend and she... the thought of the sexual encounter with the girl floods his body, and his control is lost.
To his horror and shame he realises his body is reacting. His cock, his traitor cock, has begun to move, to engorge. And he is aware that he is naked.
Bernard sees the movement, and instantly realises the implication. He had been concerned before about not getting this reaction, which was essential to his plans, but he glows with pride and power at the reaction he has achieved so quickly from one of his captured animals. He realises he needn’t have worried. Two 19 year old boys, at the peak of their sexual powers, fully loaded, ready to blow.
He realised then the true power he had over these struggling masses of flesh and muscle. Anyone could imprison, bind, invade their bodies, but he would create the ultimate intrusion by getting their very bodies to betray them, by getting their own sexual organs to respond against their former owner’s wishes.
He immediately transferred his hand from the nipple to the very tip of the cock head, and began gentle stroking, a circular pattern, kneading and pulling at the foreskin as the blood flowed in and the muscle enlarges. He pulls off the boy’s mailbag hood, and revels in the confusion and embarrassment on the young face as the boy first blinks and squints, adjusting to the light, and then stares his captor in the face, the recognition as he sees the same face that was staring at him what seems like days ago in the changing room. The boy’s expression changes to horror as he realises the truth, that he is being prepared to be milked by an older man against his will.
The rod is semi hard now and Bernard marvels at its superior size and strength. He is not satisfied, he wants to see it at its full glory. He is sorely tempted to get the riding crop again and teach this rebellious organ a lesson right here and now, but instead he stares into those soulful eyes, now filling with tears, and forgives the boy for the unauthorised use of his voice‘whht...whht r yww dooinn to me, mann?’ the boy almost weeps, as he struggles to get the words out through the gag.
‘This is your second lesson. This cock now belongs to me. You will not touch it again without my permission. You will not wank or jerk off unless I say so. If I so wish, I will keep you unmilked for weeks, until your ball sack is ready to burst, or I will milk you a dozen times in a day. You will learn to go erect at the sound of my voice, or the punishment will be severe.’
Kraig’s eyes adjusted quickly to the light. He looked into the eyes his tormentor. Despite all he knew, all he had seen, he had not expected the touch to feel as intimate as that. He grimaced and fought the emotions running through his body but the ugly, sweaty, foul smelling, overweight janitor had amazing dexterity in his touch. Kraig, who had pleasured himself hundreds of times in front of the mirror, luxuriating at his own perfection, could not bring himself look at his traitor cock in his abuser’s hands and tried to find something to look at, anything, to block the sensations and regain control of his now quivering body. Instead, he found his eyes drawn away to the jailors other hand, and to the bound figure of the other boy, and whatever the abuser was doing beneath the bound boy’s shorts. His eyes fixed to the prone body. Bernard smiled as the cock suddenly went rock hard in his hands. He believed his touch had achieved this reaction. Little did he suspect the truth.
The tormenters hand now moved from his cock tip and was embracing the shaft, pumping slowly but firmly, the rough calluses and blisters of the working man’s skin creating a mixture of discomfort and pain to the smooth and youthful shaft.
But Kraig had blocked the vision of the older man from his mind. He was drinking in the prone form in front of him, the body of the boy who had been his sparring partner, the boy who rejected him, the boy who had pushed him away when he had made his tentative advances in the locker room and had instead become his bitter enemy. Any one of the gossiping studs who speculated about the reasons for the fighting between the two boys would have had their answer if they had been in the room now.
For when Kraig’s hand had gently brushed against Tyler’s thigh in the shower, and their eyes had met for a moment, anything had seemed possible for a second. And then Tyler’s eyes had narrowed, and he swung his fist into Kraig’s face. Kraig, not hurt by the fist but torn open inside, swung back. And the war between them had turned cold.
Kraig gasped, and felt a rising torrent within his cock, but the skilful hand eased off, postponing the inevitable and increasing the boy’s physical and mental torment.
Bernard could do this all day. The power, the sensation of the young skin, the feeling of the strong muscle between his fingers, the smooth tightness enclosing one of the fingers on his other hand. The groaning, the whimpering, the begging for mercy. It was as good as he had hoped, better even. The red whip marks across the perfect musculature flexing and twisting as the boy fought both against his bonds and the unstoppable sexual energy, the sweat. In the weeks to come he would practice for longer, see how long he could suspend the young bodies in a pre-orgasmic state, maybe both at the same time, a time trial to see who could be kept just on the point of boiling over for the longest? He had so many plans.
But now it was time to reunite the rivals. Kraig’s eager dick was ready to set loose, and Tyler’s face was still masked. Reaching down, he took hold of the bag over Tyler’s head.
Tyler squinted as daylight monetarily blinded him. He became aware of the room about him, and tried to focus on whatever it was just in front of him, so close that he practically had to squint. Whatever it was, it was moving, and giving off a strangely familiar scent. A slurping noise, quiet, rhythmic, filled his ears, like something wet being gently slapped, again and again. He tried to pull back, but the nature of his bindings, face down with his back arched inward and his face suspended by the rope, made this impossible.
The tension on his neck collar was the only thing keeping him off of the... no, it can’t be. He fought as hard as ever against the bond, not even noticing the withdrawal of the offending hand from his butt, realising exactly and in blinding clarity what he was looking at, a few inches from his face. A man’s cock, a large one, engorged, being pumped by a hand, jerked off, and aiming directly at his face.
He screamed in protest and looked instinctively up the naked body in front of him. He recognised the perfect musculature even before the face came into view. Tyler’s ultimate nightmare. The thought of the sexual assault was not enough. The thought of a man’s cock that close to his face was not enough. But when he saw his arch rival, sweating, naked, in the throes of a sexual ecstasy, he realised, with absolute certainty, that in a few seconds he would be showered in his enemies warm cum, directly into his face, onto his lips.
Kraig’s face was red with shame and humiliation, but he only had himself to blame. He could not stop now, even if he had wanted to, and he didn’t want to. He knew he had made a critical error but now, with his body tensed like a spring, ready to release, he was getting his part of the deal with the devil.
A small part of him sympathised with what Tyler must be thinking at that moment, but a bigger part boiled with anger and lust. The boy was going to get exactly what he deserved. No one had ever refused him before. If he had only been his, that day in the shower, none of this would have happened.
He had stumbled upon Bernard’s notebook of plans by mistake, but his lust when reading them had blinded his judgement and he had jumped into a decision without thinking through the consequences.
For, like the spoilt rich kid he was, he saw only the way to get what he wanted. He had phoned Bernard, disguising his voice, offering him all that he could need to make his perverted plans come true, and for some reason he had chosen to not mention that one of Bernard’s targets would be himself, the mystery voice on the phone. Maybe the thought of not being the one in charge aroused him? Maybe the fact that his own perfection would be serving the needs of someone that he would cross the road to avoid had a sort of kinky thrill for a second? He had read what Bernard planned to do to him in detail but his mind had glossed it over, just concentrating on the bits where Himself and Tyler would be forced together, or where he would be watching Tyler undergoing some mind-boggling sexual torture, not even considering that, once it started, he would have no way to escape. There was no safe word, no way he could talk himself out of it. Now he was in it for the long haul. He glanced briefly at the sweaty face of Bernard, leering down at his naked body. My god, he thought. What have I done?
Tyler yelled again, a cry of anger and fear. Suddenly the Speedo gag was pulled from his face and his mouth, held wide open, was now exposed and ready to receive, hanging directly above the tip of the swollen cock, which already had a shimmering blob of precum on its head.
And the rope holding up his neck went slack. He tried the impossible feat of keeping his position but with his hands tied behind his back, gravity was against him. He slipped forward, attempts to pitch his head from side to side were restrained by Bernard, who grabbed a handful of the boy’s blonde hair and pulled it tight. His lips momentarily touched the tip.
The cock head pulsed, a half inch from his dry and panicking lips. A sudden release of the tension on his neck rope, the hand around the cock moved away, no longer needed, the explosion now being inevitable, and he literally fell on top of the cock, burying it involuntarily deep into the warm cave of his mouth.
He wanted to vomit. He wanted to die, He felt the alien man flesh against his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He almost gagged as the rock hard head poked into the back of his throat. He could taste the salty precum, and he knew instinctively from the muscle contraction of the stomach before him and from the pulsations within his own mouth that the moment had arrived.
‘NOOOO!’
Kraig felt the boys head hit his crotch like a punch, felt the damp, cool sensation of a mouth around his cock. And that was as much as he could take. With a squeal of ecstasy, he released.
A pelvic thrust, two, then an impact inside Tyler’s mouth. A hot, wet impact, spraying the back, flowing to the front to ooze out around the gap between the corner of his mouth and the engorged cock. Another cry of pleasure and pain from the boy who he was now drinking. A second spurt, a third. His position above the cock causing the fluid to drain out of his mouth onto the other boy’s washboard stomach.
He swallowed involuntarily. The realisation of what just happened sank in. He had just sucked off a man, something that would have disgusted him before, but the situation was made doubly unbearable as he had just taken in the cock of his worst enemy, his nemesis, his rival. His mouth contained the taste of his rival’s cum. The boy’s juices were now in his throat, being swallowed down, into his stomach. They would be absorbed through the stomach wall. They would become part of him forever. He was a cock sucker. He had been mouth raped. All his physical power and strength was useless.
He coughed and spluttered up as much of the rest of the juice as he could, but the taste remained, he felt a dry stickiness inside his mouth, like a layer of grease covering his tongue, his throat, his teeth, and he knew he would remember that taste for the rest of his life.
Kraig’s mind was empty. A warm glow of immense satisfaction filled his body. He had just had the greatest orgasm of his young life, and he couldn’t think of a better place for his seed to have ended up.
Bernard watched the show unfold with quiet satisfaction. Yes, these two were going to be perfect.
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