The Telemachus Story Archive

Garage Sale
Chapter 3 - Friday Night (very late)
By Amalaric (Illustrated by Amalaric)
Email: Amalaric

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Jeb’s beleaguered mind swam in an inky sea of stark realization and desperate denial. Three hours after his abduction (though time had little meaning for him), and it seemed the illusory dawn would never come. Jeb had thought that being roughly stripped and strapped by four rednecks while splayed over a workbench was the worst thing he had ever experienced- and it probably was, but that was only the beginning. His torso was reddened, but the skin unbroken, every muscle screaming in agonized protest as the scoured surface of the workbench dug into his twisting back. His captors may have been rednecks but they weren’t lacking in psychological acuity; at least in so far as the fine art of torture was concerned. The panting jock was given a good ten minutes of rest after his whipping; not from any sense of compassion or concern that he ‘couldn’t take it’, but in order to let him think about his predicament and work up some fresh adrenaline. His posture, at first casually tossed belly up on the workbench, was formalized during the brief interlude with wrists and ankles tied in a loose spread eagle to the corners. This, of course, allowed his tormentors- freed from the necessity of holding him down- more room to maneuver. Jeb lay sweating like a jungle sacrifice; waiting for the game to recommence.

‘Break’s over,’ and Charlie sauntered into the bound captive’s field of vision followed by the three others. He moved to the end of the workbench and cradled Jeb’s head in the crook of his meaty arm. The young captive’s nostrils filled with the rank smell of gasoline and cooking grease as he twisted his head in Charlie’s almost tender grip but the constriction only increased and his head was levered back staring upwards into the looming grin of a redneck colossus. He watched as Charlie’s dark eyes strolled the landscape of his naked body; hairy chest heaving, beaded sweat-slick like a well maintained car, dick pointed helplessly toward the rafters. The roving eyes traveled slowly back, sated for a while, and locked onto Jeb’s forced stare- black to blue savoring the contest, however unequal, of man to bound man, master to reluctant slave. Charlie got a good grip in Jeb’s sandy blond hair and bent the jock’s head back over the hollow of his arm, which maintained a vice-like grip on the helpless stud’s neck. He bent down and brushed a stubbly cheek against the tender skin, feeling the pounding jugular pulse with questing lips. Jeb registered a slithering wetness as Charlie ran his tongue over the bobbing adam’s apple, clearing the curve of his squared jaw, finally trailing a viscous track up and over the bridge of his nose. Jeb groaned softly as the tongue darted into the deep recess of his ticklish left ear and involuntarily thrust his pelvis forward. He was jolted out of his nightmarish reverie by the sharp prick of a knife point digging into the firm skin just below his testicles. ‘Move a muscle, boy, and I’ll ram this baby straight through to your belly button,’ Ricky’s voice seemed to boom out of nowhere. Terrified, Jeb tried to relax his straining muscles; his whole consciousness riveted on the pinpoint pain just beneath his dangling balls. Charlie relaxed his grip on the quivering stud’s head and Jeb stared, breathless, at the ceiling, every muscle in his splayed body stilled in forced tension. Virgil stood at the edge of the workbench and let out a spluttering sigh of contentment at the sight of the naked stud stretched out like a holiday feast ready for carving. His hand roamed the broad contours of the jock’s muscular chest, slowly circling erect rosy nipples, toying with the curly bronze hair...but Jeb barely noticed. His horrified attention was fixed on Charlie’s leering face six inches above his own. ‘Now, you hold still boy,’ Charlie cooed, and Jeb felt the point of the knife second the motion as it dug just a little deeper into the space between his spread legs. He lightly parted the stud’s full lips with a dirty finger and danced across the even white surfaces of Jeb’s clenched teeth, tapping here and there then paused and said, ‘Open up, boy. Handsome mouth like you got is bound to get some use sooner or later. Let’s have a look.’ Jeb’s fair eyebrows shot up at the sickening connotation and his teeth remained desperately clenched a few seconds too long. He felt a throb in the vicinity of his groin and the first warm trickle of blood pooled between his legs. Jeb’s tear filled blue eyes flashed an inarticulate plea even as he allowed Charlie to lever his mouth wide open. Stubby fingers eagerly invaded the warm recess probing the wet interior. Charlie pinched his victim’s tongue between nimble forefinger and thumb then shoved his index finger along squishy track to the back of Jeb’s throat. He laughed as the stud gagged and bucked on the workbench and said, ‘Well, I guess you ain’t had too much practice yet. We’ll fix that up for you. Count on it, boy.’ He withdrew his fingers from Jeb’s dribbling mouth and stepped back. Fresh terror invaded the stud’s mind at Charlie’s next casual remark, ‘Well now, next thing we gotta do might hurt a tad, but I guess you know how to take it like a man.’

‘Ever had your ear pierced, boy?’ Ricky’s question was rhetorical as he joined Charlie at the head of the workbench. Jeb stared dumbly uncomprehending as his blue gaze shifted between the two loathsome tormentors. He followed the trajectory of their own stares as the side door to the garage opened and Bobby bustled in clutching a tiny hibachi by its wooden handles. He set it on a table near the workbench and Jeb could feel the intense heat of live coals radiate from the cast metal. ‘Ahhh, fuck no man...don’t...’ Dawning comprehension and a thousand nameless fears sent fresh sweat cascading from his stretched torso. Jeb’s concerns were ignored as Bobby clutched a needle nosed pliers and held it over the coals. The knife was still aimed at the stud’s splayed groin; Virgil standing desultory guard duty, tickling the short hairs beneath Jeb’s balls but Ricky (ever thoughtful) didn’t figure on taking any chances. ‘Better strap his head down,’ and he nodded at Charlie. Fuck the knife! Jeb shook his head back and forth, frantically resisting, but was easily secured to the table top with leather straps on neck and forehead. The breath ripped from his lungs as Bobby approached clutching the pliers and Jeb was able to see, gripped tightly, a red hot darning needle at least a centimeter thick, glowing bright orange. ‘This is gonna hurt me more than it does you (Bobby cracked up so hard he nearly dropped the pliers). Hate to damage the goods, but you got to be tagged, boy.’ Jeb barely heard him as he stared, mesmerized, at the glowing needle. ‘Take it like a man, now,’ Charlie exhorted as his hands locked on the stud’s temples. Jeb resolved to do just that; firm jaw clenched, eyes narrowed to slits of frantic determination. Even so, tears streamed between the crevices of Charlie’s vice-like fingers. The naive captive figured that his earlobe was about to get the mother of all holes. He was wrong. He felt the heat of the needle pass the outer contours of his tingling ear and, all resolve forgotten, screamed as the point slowly seared its way through the thick cartilage of the ear’s inner cavity emerging, in a wisp of sizzling smoke that smelled like a summer barbecue, right next to the bony ridge of his hairline. Bobby’s hum mixed oddly with Jeb’s hoarse shrieks; fiddling with the red hot needle, twisting and twirling as the skin cauterized around its faintly crackling surface. The tailor stood back and admired his work. ‘Hey! That’s better. All ready to get you tagged, boy.’

‘OK,’ Charlie quipped. ‘Top’s done, now for the bottom. Bobby- secure his feet.’ The leather straps were removed from Jeb’s neck and forehead and he frantically raised himself up as far as possible and gazed south; past the slick landscape of sweaty chest and tensed abs, up and over his thick pubic bush and jutting cock, to the expansive ‘V’ of  spread legs. Jeb wiggled his suddenly ice cold toes as each bare foot was immobilized. ‘Ah, no...PLEASE!!! You did my ear...’ he felt like he was going to pass out from the rush of anxiety. ‘Fucker thinks we’re gonna drill a hole in his foot!’ Bobby laughed. ‘No way, dude, nothing to worry about. We’re just gonna fix it so you won’t have to carry no ID in your wallet anymore. Hell! You ain’t gonna have no wallet nor pockets to put one!!’ Jeb gaped, mouth slack in mid-protest, utterly confused. ‘Ever get a tat?’ Bobby asked. ‘Guess not,’ he said, looking down the hairy length of the jock’s naked body. ‘Well, this is sort of like that...sort of.’ Jeb groaned softly as the hibachi was brought to the foot of the workbench. Though he had never seen one in real life, he had no trouble recognizing what Bobby held in his hand. Jeb stared, riveted by terror, as the brand was lowered into the hibachi where it soon glowed a deeper red than the discarded darning needle. ‘Ever walk barefoot on a hot street?’ Charlie asked. ‘Well, this will be kind of like that...but a whole lot worse.’ Jeb finally understood what was in the works and jerked his feet against the restraining straps until the leather was sticky with oozing blood. ‘No use, boy,’ Charlie continued. ‘You’re nothing but a hopped up strapping piece of live meat for the market now and you gotta be ID’d; sort of a ‘seal of approval’ if you know what I mean?’ and he smiled wickedly. Bobby (a ‘hands on’ kind of guy) took the brand from the hibachi and gripped Jeb’s left ankle in one meaty paw. Jeb croaked a frantic protest through a mouth bone dry with sickening fear as the brand moved inexorably forward, picking up speed and purpose, finally colliding in a smoky hiss with the tender instep of the jock’s twitching foot. The muscular captive’s agonized shriek echoed off the rafters as the corded sinews of his naked body convulsed, arcing the young stud like a sweat-slick rainbow straight off the table against the restraining bonds. ‘Dude’s trying to fuck the light bulb again,’ Virgil chortled and Jeb, lost in the exploding white glare of pain behind eyes screwed shut against the nightmare, let out a last ragged sigh and passed out.

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