Kye

The last few days, ever since Saturday at Jake's Place, had been turbulent, and the last

24 hours, with the robbery and now seeing Kye, made me feel like I was in a whirlwind. I was

thankful for a few moments to just stop, look around, and gather my thoughts.

How had Kye gotten himself into this position? Who were these other guys who seemed to

find great joy in fucking his ass, almost like revenge? Each seemed to be good-looking and

well built. Some were even well-hung, although for what they were doing, it didn't seem to

matter. Did they know Kye from sports activities? With as crazy as the night had been already,

what would be next?

I looked past Kye to see Trey and his roommate Mitch deep in discussion. If Trey was a

dark-skinned sexual marathon, at about six feet, four inches and maybe two hundred and

seventy-five lean pounds of rounded, developed muscle, then Mitch was a tanned sexual sprint.

He was probably closer to my height, five feet, ten inches and maybe the same weight, about one

hundred and ninety-five pounds, but that's where the comparison to me ended. His short hair was

cut in a blonde military cut, probably no more than an inch long on top. Stacked above and

below an impossibly thin waist were shredded muscles on shredded muscles. Thighs and calves?

Massive and cut! Triceps and biceps? Mounded and exploding! Abs, intercostals, pecs, delts,

and traps? Almost indescribable in their definition. If anyone had ever achieved zero percent

bodyfat, then Mitch might be that guy. He looked seriously close to being muscle-bound, but

oddly enough, at the same time, he looked just right. Perfect, even. I could see why Trey was

drawn to him. That, and his sexual appetite. And what appeared to be a delicious package.

They were talking so quietly that I had no idea what they were debating. As I watched,

Mitch turned his back to Trey and softly nuzzled into his body. He had to be rubbing Trey's

huge member into his exposed asscrack. I didn't need to look at the pleasure on his face to

know that; his own massive cock was straining at the tattered jockstrap, fighting for escape as

it leaked pre-cum through the fabric. It was becoming ramrod hard.

Trey was licking across Mitch's neck, and then he inserted his tongue into his ear, causing

Mitch to shiver and groan loudly. A large, thick gob of cock honey pushed through the fabric of

the jockstrap. That was no pre-cum; it was more like a small ejaculation. Trey raised his

head just a little so that he could look at me, locking on to my eyes with his, and a devilish

grin formed across his lips.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He must have been asking me, since Mitch wasn't hiding any of

his feelings or thoughts right now. I just shook my head, and looked away, almost feeling

dirty, like I had been spying into their personal life.

Trey kept eye contact with me as he walked around to the front of Mitch, squated down in

front of him, and sucked the cum-soaked jockstrap pouch into his mouth. Never wavering from

looking at me, he sucked the pouch till he must have had all that Mitch had deposited there,

making room for more. Then he stood back up, and walked over to me.

"You know, I'm gonna go broke if I have to keep bribing you to open up and talk." Trey said

jokingly. I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but my brain seemed to just be mush right

now, and I wasn't sure what made sense and what didn't. I didn't want to say or do anything

that I would regret later.

"Hey, guys," Mitch broke in, talking in the direction of the others gathered around the

end of the workbench. "You're welcomed to stay and watch, but from this point on, the party is

primarily for our guest of honor, Mr. Dominic Bartolo." He walked over and gave me a quick

hug, then continued. "No one else gets to fuck the centerpiece here unless Dom says. Dom.

Quite an appropriate nickname for tonight's festivities, don't you think?" Mitch leared at me,

making me think that he wanted to stop everything right now and have a go at me, or let me have

a go at him. But then he continued.

"We haven't explained the rules to him, but you all know what they are, so abide by them,

please. Remember, no action is allowed that might permanently damage this prime piece of cunt.

Everybody wraps up, so that we can continue to keep count. And with that, I think it is about

time we bring Mr. Fuckhead here up to speed on what has been happening to him for the last two

days."

Two days? What had they been doing to him for two days? I took a slow step backward

toward the door. It only took that amount of distance, one slow step, to run into Trey, who

had positioned himself behind me. He leaned in toward my ear, and whispered, "Don't be

frightened. No one is going to get into any trouble. Everything is being videotaped, so Kye

will never say anything, and obviously all the guys getting their rocks off aren't going to say

anything. So just chill, and follow Mitch's lead." He squeezed me with a reassuring hug, then

guided me in Mitch's direction.

"Right over here, Dom. Just a little to the side, by his head. I don't want him to see

you right away. So, let's begin with the ear plugs. It'll give him a chance to focus on

listening, something he doesn't do very well. Here goes."

Mitch reached to each side of Kye's head and removed the duct tape strips holding in the

ear plugs, then the plugs themselves. Kye shifted restlessly, partly from regaining one of his

senses, and probably from dread at what might be coming next.

"Okay, fuckhead, can you hear me?" Mitch waited for about 15 seconds for Kye to respond,

and when Kye didn't, Mitch bent down, placing one knee on the floor, and got his face right next

to Kye's. He repeated his question, a little more loudly and a bit slower, and waited again.

When there was still no reply, he backed up just a little, and then brought his meaty right

hand up to deliver a teeth-jarring slap to Kye's face. Kye's head snapped sideways, followed by

a ear-piercing high-pitched scream, or at least that's what it sounded like from behind the

mouth gag.

It was then that I finally noticed that Kye's head was enmeshed by a soft, skin-colored

leather harness. I hadn't noticed it earlier because it was exactly the color of Kye's now

shorn head. A very thin wire stretched down from a D-ring on the bottom of the harness and it

disappeared through a tiny hole in the workbench. It looked like the same wire securing Kye's

balls to the table, and sure enough, that wire also disappeared through a tiny hole. When I

peered beneath the platform, I saw the two pieces were actually one connected line. Whenever

Kye's head moved up or sideways, his balls were being painfully yanked away from his body

towards the platform. Because his body was stretched across a framework of pipes, there was no

wigggle room and his balls were pulled painfully away from his body. I hoped that the wire

wouldn't cut through the scrotum and remove the balls; Mitch had said no permanent damage, so

they must know what they were doing.

"Now, let's try it again, Shit-for-brains. Can you hear me? You'd better answer; the

questions all get harder from this point on." Mitch looked like he was losing patience fast.

Kye nodded his head down, then up, being careful not to stretch the wire.

"Okay, then, listen very carefully. If you can demonstrate that you are listening, and

willing to follow everything we tell you, then we'll remove the mask so that you can see. If

that works out okay, we'll remove the mouth gag. Eventually, we might take off the shackles."

Mitch placed emphasis on the word "might" as he spoke it, leaving Kye to wonder if he ever

"might" be free again.

"So, let's start with easy questions and information. Do you know what you've been doing

for the last few days, assuming you could figure out day and night with your eyes covered?"

Kye nodded his head down, then up.

"Right. You've been a cum dump for our little party here. I hope that's okay with you."

Mitch waited for a reply, but got none. "Is that okay with you? Need another slap?" Kye

quickly moved his head down, then side to side to indicate "no."

"Well, I really don't care if it is okay or not, because you weren't just a cum dump, you

were also making restitution for past errors on your part. As an arrogant, sadistic, cocky

bastard, you have made a lot of mistakes in your life, haven't you?" "Kye slowly nodded his

head down, then up.

"Any idea how many times your man pussy got fucked?" Kye nodded down, then side to side.

Mitch seemed to be getting great pleasure in orchestrating this part of the party. As I

watched him, I seemed to sense something familiar. Had today been the first time I had met him?

Did I know him from somewhere in my past? With that body, maybe I'd seen him on the Internet.

I couldn't figure it out right now.

"Do you remember your jersey number? Come on, now, you must remember that." Kye nodded

his head down, then up.

"That's right, number 48! Your fucking number is 48. So we decided to keep your fucking

number at 48. You've been fucked 48 times. Isn't that hilarious, Kye?" That was the first

time Mitch had addressed Kye by name, and I could sense the tension mounting in his voice.

"Okay, we're gonna take off the blindfold. You've been a good pussy, so we'll let you

enjoy your visual surroundings, as long as you continue to follow the rules. Okay?" Kye

nodded down, then up. Mitch stood up and removed the mask, and Kye's eyes, unaccustomed to even

the muted light in the family room, squinted and blinked in an attempt to adjust and focus.

"So now, fuckhead, let's see if you can remember a little more. You've had the number 48

jersey for 4 years now in college, right?" Kye nodded down, then up. "Do you remember why you

requested it, Kye?" Mitch asked patiently. Kye nodded down, then up.

"That's right, it was your number in high school on the football team. State champions, I

do believe. And you were the leader of that team, right, Kye? Number 48 was the big man on

that team, right, Kye?" Mitch's voice was getting a little louder, and his face began to flush.

Kye nodded his head down, then up.

Mitch began to move away from his previous spot in front of Kye, giving him the opportunity

to follow him, possibly putting more downward pressure on his balls. Or if he chose, Kye could

look around and try to take in some of the rest of his surroundings.

"Were you always the big man on that team, Kye?" It sounded like an accusation. Kye

hesitated, and Mitch responded with a swift slap to the side of the face, knocking Kye's head to

the other side and bringing our another scream as his balls were yanked downward.

Mitch resumed his stancein front of Kye, and dropped to one knee again. He put his face

square into Kye's line of sight. Mitch spoke in a slow, steady, almost monotone voice. "Do

you remember me?" Kye looked carefully, then nodded his head down, then side to side. Mitch

grabbed the ball gag and pulled up on Kye's head until their eyes met. "Look again, fucker!

Do YOU remember ME?" Kye seemed to be searching for recognition in Mitch's face. Suddenly, his

eyes opened widely, and he screamed again. His bladder released, and he pissed all over the

table. He body seemed to be racked by spasms.

"Yeah, you fucking asshole, Mitch Dawson is back. And you're going to pay for what you

did."

Mitch slowly rose to his feet, and turned away from Kye. "So, Mr. Fuckhead, since no one

else knows exactly the memory that you and I were just sharing, I think we should let them in

on the secret." Kye lowered his head and nodded left to right vehemently.

"Not your choice, pussy." Mitch slowly circulated around the room. Each man moved out of

his way and maintained complete silence, listening carefully to the story that Mitch was telling.

It was then that I noticed that Mitch had picked up a riding crop, and was slowly stroking it.

"Kye Ramos was the Messiah, come to save the football program. All the papers said so. He

made the varsity team as a freshman, simply unheard of in high school. He worked hard to earn

a starting linebacker spot, and by his sophomore year, he was made defensive captain. As the

defense got better, the team got better. But Mr. Ramos wasn't the leader of the team at that

time, was he? Was he, Kye?" Mitch screamed that last sentence, and slapped Kye's ass with the

riding crop. He regained his composure, then waited for Kye to answer.

Kye lowered his head, then nodded side to side.

"That's right," Mitch continued. "The team captain, the offensive leader, the quarterback,

was a young man by the name of Mitchell Dawson. He was a senior by this time, and he too had

been hailed as the Messiah when he was younger. The team got better and better, but fell short

in several crucial games, so they never got to the top of the heap. When Mr. Ramos came on

board, he seemed to think that the team would do better if he was the captain. So he set the

defense against the offense, blaming Mr. Dawson for all the team's lack of success. And Mr.

Dawson could see that the team was coming apart at the seams, so he did the manly thing and went

to make peace with Mr. Ramos, didn't he, Kye?" Kye lowered his head, then raised it in agreement.

"So Mr. Dawson proposed a truce, to last until the end of the season, so that both offense

and defense could focus on winning, and Mr. Ramos agreed, or so Mr. Dawson thought. But after

the next game, that the team lost by a field goal, it all came apart, didn't it, Kye? Didn't it,

Kye?" Mitch didn't wait for an answer, as he delivered two more strokes of the riding crop

across Kye's ass.

"In the showers, after the game, you came up behind Mr. Dawson, grabbed him around the

throat, and pinned him against the wall, didn't you Kye? You were going to take over the team

from the senior quarterback, weren't you, Kye? Weren't you?" Mitch was screaming the

accusations, but Kye was responding to each one in the affirmative.

"But that wasn't enough for Mr. Ramos, was it? The flush of power that he held over Mr.

Dawson seemed almost sexual, arousing in nature, wasn't it? And when you had Mr. Dawson against

the wall, you jammed your cock in his ass and fucked him, didn't you? And you didn't even

bother to lube up, resulting in Mr. Dawson's anus being ripped, right? Isn't that right, Kye?"

Kye wagged his head from side to side, and tears began to fall from his face. I wondered

if they were tears of sorrow over what he had done to Mitch, or maybe tears of fear over what

might yet be ahead for him.

"Well, you must have thought that Mr. Dawson would like it that way, since you had heard

rumors that Mr. Dawson liked boys, right, Kye? And you raped him till your huge tool dumped a

load in his ass, didn't you, Kye? In front of the entire team so that there would be no

challenge to your authority, your control, right, Kye? And then, still not satisfied, you took

Mr. Dawson out to the lockers, tied him to a bench with ripped towels and proceeded to fuck him

again, a second time, didn't you Kye? And your response to the sobbing of Mr. Dawson, ripped

open by your manmeat and bleeding as he lay there? What did you say to Mr. Dawson as he cried

out in pain? Do you even remember? You said, 'Should change your name from Mitch to bitch,

because that's all you're good for.'"

Mitch walked over to stand by Kye's head. Trey immediately moved next to him because he'd

never seen Mitch like this, and he was sure that something bad was about to happen. Mitch bent

down to look squarely into Kye's eyes, although Kye probably couldn't see through the shower of

tears flowing out of them and down his face. His body shook with emotion, and his sobs were

the only sound to be heard in the room aside from Mitch's words.

"Do you have any idea what you did to me that day? Any idea at all? My parents met me at

the hospital, but how do you tell them that you're having your asshole stitched up after a

brutal rape? No one came forward with the truth, but the coach lost his job, didn't he, Kye.

And he blamed me for causing him to lose it. And the rumors circulated, and my girlfriend

dropped me because she was embarrassed to be seen with me. And my dad asked me point blank if

I was gay, and if I had asked for that rape? Can you imagine that, Kye? Having your own dad

ask if you asked to be raped? That was the last day he ever talked to me. They threw me out

of the house. And do you remember what else happened? I was so totally fucking destroyed that

I dropped out of school. Lost all my college scholarship opportunities, and I joined the

Marines. I was lucky enough that I had enough credits after my Junior year of High School to

graduate, or even the Marines would have been out of the question. I had to prove I was a man,

even if only to myself, and it was safe there in the Marines because no one knew my dark secret.

And it was okay until I graduated from boot camp, but my parent's didn't come to see me, and I

figured that they didn't care either. Then I got word that they had been T-boned by a drunk

driver running a red light the night before I graduated. If they had come to see me, they'd

still be alive. But they wouldn't even consider coming to see me, since I was dead to them.

And I hold you responsible for their deaths, as much as the drunk driver. I never had a chance

to make things okay with my dad, and now I never will."

By now, Mitch was crying, his body wracked with sobs, barely able to get out any words.

Trey had taken Mitch into his arms and was stroking his head.

Mitch took one more look at Kye, who was now looking back at him. "I wouldn't wish my life

on anyone, not even you." With that Mitch collapsed into Trey's embrace, and the weight caused

Trey to slump to the floor as well.

"Mitch, we all know now why this party took place, but it wouldn't be right if we fell

short of the mark." One of the other young men, a tall muscular Latino, had spoken for the

first time. "Dom hasn't made it forty-eight yet. And isn't our time almost up?"

Mitch wiped his face with his hands, and jumped to his feet, seemingly reinvigorated.

"That's right. Forty-eight fucks in forty-eight hours was the goal, and we still have time to

reach it. Dom, get out of those clothes, unless you want to fuck him with clothes on. Your

choice."

Forty-eight fucks in forty-eight hours? No wonder there was blood. With that much

fucking, something was bound to get rubbed raw. As I removed my clothes, with help from a few

of the guys, I realized that my cock was as hard as steel. Tony, the Latino, rolled a condom

on it and I was ready to go. I felt a sense of rage just below the surface of my emotions. I

had arrived at this party with anger towards Kye at what he'd done to me at Jack's, but hearing

Mitch's story, I know was filled with loathing for this man. How could Kye treat anyone with

such an utter sense of disregard? I lined up my cock, and slammed all seven inches into Kye's

hole as hard as I could. He screamed, but held his head low to keep the pressure off his balls.

He'd anticipated the pain.

I slammed into his ass repeatedly, as hard as I could, harder than I had ever imagined that

I would be able to do. It didn't take long, and as I was filling the condom, I cursed myself

for not making the act take longer. Kye deserved everything he was getting. Everything he had

gotten for the last forty-eight hours.

As I was pulling out and skinning of the condom, one of the guys was looking through the 4

Styrofoam egg cartons where Mitch had been keeping track of the used skins. That's how he was

sure that they had arrived at 48, but now there seemed to be a problem.

"Mitch, we're one short."

"Fuck, Bobby, are you sure? Check again."

"I don't have to check again. Somebody who used a Magnum draped it over 2 spots, so we're

one short. He needs another fuck!"

"How much time have we got?" Mitch asked Trey, and then he turned to me and asked, "Can you

get it up again, Dom? If it weren't for you, we would have been short to start with. Finding

out about you set the plan in motion."

"What......?

"Can you get it up again?" Mitch asked again.

"No. But what about that other part, setting the plan in motion?"

Mitch turned to Trey. "Then it is you, buddy. Can you do this for me?"

Trey looked Mitch square in the eyes. "This began with you, Mitch, all those years ago.

It is fitting that it should end with you, buddy."

"But you haven't fucked him yet. I already did," Mitch insisted.

"Well, our rules don't say 48 different people, just 48 individual fucks," Trey said with a

sly smile growing across his face.

Mitch responded with his own devilish grin. "Well the rules, don't exactly say 48

'individual' fucks, do they, so there's not rule against double-fucking him."

Kye vehemently shook his head from side to side, trying to scream through the gag.

"You're on!" Trey shouted. "But I'm bigger, so I get the bottom and I get in first."

Mitch unhooked the wire from Kye's head brace and balls, so that Trey could slide in under

him. Then Mitch removed the pipes, so that Mitch could force Kye's body down onto Trey, making

it easier for the muscular black man to penetrate him. Both men wrapped their tools with a

condom, then got busy. Mitch climbed up onto the workbench, and forced Kye's ass down onto the

large black tool. He forced him down until Kye hit bottom. Mitch heard Kye screaming, but

didn't much care. This one was going to be for Dom, and for his dad. A little lube, and Mitch

began to force his way in. He had no intention of taking it slow, or taking it easy. He would

not be denied. He continued to push until he felt Kye push down with his sphincter, and the

head popped in, followed by the entirety of Mitch's nine and a half inch cock. Once in, the men

started to pull and push in rotation.

Mitch looked over at me. "Wanna join in, Dom? You look like you're getting hard again."

"Honestly, I can't. And there wouldn't be any room anyway. I saw how difficult it was to

get two cocks in; how on earth would you get three in there?"

Who said anything about Kye's ass?" Mitch responded with an extra hard push into the man

pussy. Then he reached back, placing one hand on his right cheek, and pulled his asscrack open

to show his quivering hole. "How about this, right fucking now!"

My body exposed my lie. I really could have joined this last, glorious fuck. But instead,

looking at Mitch's hole, I shivered, and my cock belched out shot after shot of cum, right there

on the floor. That must have been enough for Trey and Mitch, because as soon as they saw me

erupt, they both started cumming, flooding the condoms with manseed.

Both Mitch and Trey dismounted, and ceremoniously dropped the stretched condoms into the

last waiting spot. "Done," Trey announced triumphantly.

I didn't want to break the mood, but I had to go. "Hey guys, I've gotta work tomorrow

morning, and this day off has been so busy, I really need to get home and get some sleep. Six

AM will come awfully early." Who was I kidding. I really didn't want to go. It seemed like

there was some unfinished business, but that would have to be for a later time. Trey

approached me and enveloped me with his sweaty body. This seemed where I should belong. The

hug lasted way too long between new friends, but I didn't want to break it.

When Trey backed away, Mitch moved toward me, but as I extended my arms for a hug, he

shocked me by dropping to his knees and swallowing my manhood to the root. I nearly passed out,

grabbing for someone or something to hold onto. He cleaned my cock, then stood up, looking as

though he was very pleased with himself. "Cum back soon," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss

me full on the lips.

I put on my jeans. Everything else I could carry to the car; the essentials were covered.

I walked down the porch, remembering Mitch's welcome just a few hours before, and then

continued until I got to my car. I got in, started it up, and drove down the driveway. I

stopped at the road to look for cars, but didn't seem to be able to get the car going again.

My brain was in a fog. I couldn't think straight, so I sat for a moment to organize my thoughts.

Then I threw the car in reverse, and backed straight up the driveway. I got out and headed back

up the porch. I knocked on the door, while wondering if Trey's words earlier were prophetic.

Trey opened the door, and a questioning look crossed his face. "Forget something, buddy?"

"Did you mean it, you know, what you said earlier?"

Now it was Trey's turn to look dazed and confused.

"Earlier, when we arrived, you said, 'We're home.' Did you mean it?"

Trey stood there for a moment, and I thought I could see the wheels turning. Suddenly, his

face broke into the broadest smile I'd seen yet. He reached out and drew me into his hug. He

raised his voice so that Mitch could hear him. "He's home! Dom got home safely!"

.....to be continued.....