I awoke very abruptly some time later to an intensely sharp, stinging sensation in my ass. a feeling utterly unlike all the other tortures that had assailed it before. It was seeping into every crevice, every wrinkle - it was even sinking beneath the skin, burning brightly along my nerve endings.
I opened my eyes, blinking, huffing musty air through my nostrils – as well as the pungent smell of rubbing alcohol. Everything was fuzzy; I couldn't see much. Morning sunlight filtered through glass somewhere behind me and somewhere ahead. Something was in my mouth again, gagging me, but it was too hard to be my boxers. I was still naked, I realized, though somehow this didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was the fact that I knew I was back in my van, lying on top of the familiar blankets and pillows I called home, smelling their comfortable old must. My wrists were far apart and bound, but gone was the sharp bite of the zip-tie. Instead I felt the cold metal of handcuffs, one pair on each wrist. They'd been latched to the firm steel support bars at the base of each of the front seats, spreading my arms out and securing them above my head. My ass was propped up on one of the firmer pillows, and it had two fingers in it – that much I could tell from touch alone. They weren't prodding me in any lewd way, however. It felt...clinical.
My eyes cleared as I looked down my naked body and saw Ben crouching low between my legs. An open bottle of rubbing alcohol rested next to his elbow, explaining the deep sting - he was dousing my ravaged insides with it. He was fully clothed, a clingy white button-down and some rough jeans. He was even wearing his glasses again, which made him look like a stern doctor with his furrowed brow. He was holding one of my legs up with his shoulder and working on applying the alcohol to the tenderest parts of my ass, concentrating so intently that he didn't notice I'd come to.
I kept my eyes half-shut, and didn't move at all. I thought about kicking him in my grogginess, but I realized that my right leg – the one not currently resting on his shoulder – was bound just as tightly as my wrists. Instead of handcuffs it was a held by a knotted bungee cord, its other end tied smartly around a steel beam that protruded from the wall of the van, just above the metal mound that encased the rear tire. He'd made sure I was completely helpless. All I could do was watch...and wait.
He took his fingers out of me, and I saw what else he'd been using to clean me out: the sagging white glob of a wet cotton ball, stained pink in the middle. My ass throbbed terribly, feeling like a pincushion. He tossed the used cotton ball into a small pile of two or three others with the same faint coloring, then capped the bottle of rubbing alcohol and put it aside. He sniffed and sat up, straightening his glasses, studying my hole until he felt satisfied that his job was complete. Only then did he glance up and see me watching him.
He smirked, but he looked tired. "Just cleaning up my mess," he said. He let my leg fall off his shoulder as he got up and gathered his cleaning supplies. He put everything but the trash back into my footlocker, which he'd shoved into the very back corner of the van – right next to my left foot, the only limb of mine that wasn't tied down.
I tried to say something, I don't know what – but my mouth was gagged. “Found that old ball gag in your footlocker when I was looking for your cuffs,” he said. He sounded jovial, but I could tell it was a mask. “You remember it? I do. I kinda liked it when you used it on me. Thought I'd return the favor.”
I huffed angrily through my nose, fuming. I tore my head away from him, glaring at the flowing tapestries that hung from the walls of the van. He didn't laugh at me that time. It seemed as if all the rage from the night before had leaked out of him. Of course, that hardly meant there was anything friendly left over.
He leaned down and pulled a light blanket over my nude body with one hand, right up to my chin. I had to admit it felt good to be covered up in that humiliating position, not to mention warmer. I didn't assume it was an act of kindness, however. “I'll...be right back,” he said, and opened the back of the van. I saw his messy garage beyond the back doors - he'd backed the van right up into it. I saw a duffel bag on the floor, stuffed with clothes it looked like – and then the doors shut, and he was gone.
I tugged at the handcuffs once I was alone. I only owned two pairs, so I knew one of them had to be the trick pair. I found the trick pair quickly. It was holding my left wrist against the passenger seat. I also found that Ben had completely covered the trick latch with thick, tightly wrapped layers of duct tape, making it impossible for me to undo with half the fingers on one hand. God damn it, I thought, though I knew I should have figured it wouldn't be that easy.
He was back moments later. He came in through the driver's side door and tossed his duffel bag into the back of the van. It hit my chest and rolled next to my footlocker. It was heavy, tightly packed to the brim, and it knocked the wind out of me. “Watch out,” he called sarcastically, before turning on the ignition. In seconds we were rolling, and I had no idea where to. He wasn't about to tell me, and I was to exhausted to care. I let myself sleep. For some strange reason, it was easy.
I woke up as the van rumbled to a stop. I turned my head to look out the front windows, but it was impossible. I looked out the tinted back windows instead. There was a bright, cloudless sky, and the roof of a building – but that was all I could make out through the dark glass. We may have been in Mexico, for all I knew. I would have actually been happy if that were the case.
Ben was shuffling around in the driver's seat, and then he was climbing over my head into the back of the van, shaking the entire frame. I watched as his meaty thighs stretched the blue denim inches above my face, watched as his bulge shifted between them. Watched meaty his ass, large and powerful and shaped two giant hams, as it shifted in the tight seat of the jeans.
He settled carefully between my legs, resting on his bent knees. He seemed nervous – and excited. He was looking forward, out the front windows of the van. “This is neat,” he finally said, with a pleasant and genuine grin. “I totally appreciate the tinted windows. I know they've always been there, but there's just something so different about it now, you know? Now that I'm the one...er...”
He blushed sheepishly. His eyes lowered themselves onto my prone form, flickering over the dark hair of my exposed armpits, the small patch of fur on my lean chest, and all the angles and planes that were covered and hugged by the thin, clinging fabric of the blanket. He lowered himself and straddled my hips, placing one thigh on either side of my waist. He was heavy, and I could feel his hard cock pressing into my soft crotch through his jeans. His hands darted down onto my body like hawks hunting rabbits, covering my exposed armpits with his palms. He smiled, rubbing slowly, back and forth.
My initial alarm quickly faded, and I realized that he was being strangely sensual. Then I realized that it was starting to tickle. I jerked in his hands involuntarily, and his grin got wider. His fingers began to tease the sensitive flesh of my pits, brushing lightly over the hair, up and down…
He stopped as suddenly as he'd started, before I could consider pleading with him. He grabbed the blanket and slowly pulled it down. The entirety of my bare, heaving chest was shortly exposed to the air, my nipples red and erect under his thumbs. “I'm gonna make you want this,” he breathed lustily. His blue eyes were bright behind his foggy glasses as he watched me squirm against my restraints and the raw weight of his body. His hands cupped my pecs, feeling them, caressing them. They ran over my pits again, and then up the graceful, sinewy muscles along the back of my arms.
I could do nothing but give in and accept his attention, telling myself it was unwanted and cursing him for it. My body had already excepted it, of course; I knew he could feel my cock hardening against his. I told myself it was simply a base reaction to being so close to him, to the way his hands were enjoying me...
His hips were grinding into mine now, and his fingers were at my pits again – tickling and tugging the thick hair there, immediately making me shriek into the ball gag despite myself. My pits were sweating heavily from the nervousness and the fear, no doubt filling the air between us with my own musk. His nostrils flared as he drank it in, and it only encouraged him to go further. I'd never had any brothers, or even cousins. I couldn't remember the last time someone had held me down and tickled me, if it had ever happened at all. He wasn't stopping.
It didn't take much for me to lose my mind when he really went to work. I was laughing and screaming at once, though it was largely muffled by the gag. My body jerked and twisted under him as he played me like a harp, up and down. His fingers like voracious, nibbling fish that wouldn't leave until they'd picked my carcass to the bone. His cock was grinding into me, dominating my hips, making sure I couldn't move an inch. Once he had me pushing my hips up into his in my fits of uncontrollable panting, he stopped. Leaned back.
I opened my eyes, tears streaming down my face, and focused on him. He wasn't grinning anymore, but the look on his face was still quite intense. He was thinking about something I knew I'd find distressful.
You have to let me go, I tried to say, but of course I could only grunt wetly into my own ball gag. I have to leave town tonight…Pendrick... My cock throbbed beneath his thigh.
Without saying a word he dismounted and stripped the blanket off of me completely, exposing my naked flesh to the cool air once again. My cock was pink and hard and alive, rising into its long and subtle curve now that it wasn't being smothered by the blanket or Ben's pelvis. He eyed it, eyed all of me. I wished I could tell what he was thinking, but most of all I was hoping he wasn't going to tickle me anymore.
“You've got a thing for tying me up,” he stated after a long moment of raping me with his eyes. “Actually, I can only think of two or three times you didn't do that. I get it now – why tying me up turned you on, I mean.” His hands were on my chest again, feeling the firmness of my stretched pectorals. My skin tingled all over in response. “It's fucking hot, isn't it, having total control over someone? It's hot the other way around, too, even if it took a couple sessions with you for me to admit I liked it. But you know what I didn't like about it?”
His hands were on the move again. They made their way down my ribcage, my stomach, tracing the valley of my naval and the supple plains of muscle that led down to my groin. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't even turn my hips away from him. “I didn't like not being able to touch you,” he was saying. “I'd never actually been with another guy, before you. You knew that.” He was lying down next to me now, head resting on my shoulder, his own shoulder cradled in the crook of my open armpit as his hands continued to roam across my torso. “I wanted to…explore. You know? Play. I'd never had the chance to do anything like that to a guy – for a guy.”
He sucked on my nipple for a moment before he went on, tongue tracing its edges and flicking across its tip. His blue eyes flashed when I grunted sharply into the gag, and he grinned boyishly around my tender pec. “Now I get every inch of you, all to myself.” His breath was impossibly hot on my wet, erect nipple, and we both saw it stiffen further beneath his pink lips. His hands had gone lower. He had my had cock in his grip now, squeezing and stroking. He watched my body react to his touch, a desperate, hungry fire growing hotter in his eyes.
“I know what you want to do with this tool of yours,” he said darkly, after a moment of squeezing me to full attention. His voice was different now.
He got up and undid his belt, then pushed his jeans down off his hips along with his boxers, until he was naked from the waist down. His cock was hard and thick, bobbing heavily between his powerful thighs above his sagging pink balls. He straddled my hips, and I felt the intense heat of his groin as it pressed against my own, mingling our cocks and balls and our thick, masculine bushes of soft pubic hair.
He took my cock and pushed it under his hanging balls, then let it snap back into place against the cleft of his ass. The fine hairs of his ass ring tickled my shaft, and the thick heat of his undercarriage radiated across my skin. He began to slowly gyrate, reaching behind and holding my cock against his hole as he rubbed himself into me, creating a hot, velvety friction. It was all I could to not to pump my hips in response. He could tell I was struggling, watching me closely over the rim of his misty glasses. His other hand was firmly planted on the center of my chest, the muscles of his arm shifting and flexing under his light golden skin as he held me down with ease. All the while his own cock bobbed above my stomach, half-hidden by the hanging fabric of his shirt, red and angry and thick.
Though my body was throbbing with base, uncontrollable lust, a small and poignant shard of my mind was beginning to sink into a pit of dull fear. It was finally becoming clear that Ben had kidnapped me. He had me tied up naked in my own van, utterly at his mercy – and I didn't know how much mercy he actually had in him. He'd certainly shown me none the night before, and every fiber of my being expected him to abandon this cunning, gentle creature he was playing and brutalize me again. Rape me again.
And still beneath this creeping unease was another, altogether different sort of dread, like a churning ocean beneath a gathering storm. The clock was ticking. Come sundown, my life would be forfeit if any of Pendrick's goons spotted this van within city limits – and I couldn't warn Ben about this, because there was an orb of rubber stuffed between my teeth.
“I don't want you to go,” he was whispering softly, almost to himself. His naked thighs tightened around my waist. My cock was being held against his hole by the clenching meat of his ass cheeks. It was intensely erotic, and it was more than distracting me from even the worst of my fears. He was talking in a calm, reedy voice that would certainly devolve into desperate and thoughtless moaning, if my cock could ever penetrate him again. I suddenly wanted to hear that, really, really badly.
"I don't know why you want to leave town after everything you – everything we did. I think you're just pussing out, personally. You don't want to take responsibility for any of it – and pretend your pathetic little apology made up for anything. You really thought one night would even make a dent in that shit you pulled? One night!” He laughed deeply, bitterly, and I felt its reverberations around my cock.
“I shouldn't really care, should I? So fuck it. You can run off like a bitch if you want to, but I'm not letting you wiggle out of our 'arrangement' just yet.” I was pushing my cock against his hole now, buzzing with lust. I really was scared of him - which just made me want to fuck him all the more. He was so lost in his monologue that he was totally oblivious to this fact. “We're not done yet, you and me. Not when we've got so much unfinished-fucking-business.” If only he'd lower that luscious ass of his onto my cock, he'd remember how good I could make him feel...
He let my cock fall away and rolled off of me, leaving me panting and almost angry. He began to pull on his boxers, giving me quite a show as his muscular lower body flexed and squeezed its way back into his jeans. He stuffed his hard cock down into his boxers before dragging the zipper over his swollen package, and I could feel myself licking my lips. Not even the hell he'd put me through the night before had dampened my desire for him. To feel the meat of his hot ass there, so close to my cock after all those long, gray weeks apart…the piece of me that had been frightened of him had vanished, for the moment. I still wanted him. Badly. I wanted to fuck him back into submission, as soon as I was back in control. I was still crazy about him...even if he'd gone a little crazy.
I shook my head, cleared it. None of this mattered. Ben could do what he wanted to me – play at kidnapping and domination and sexual torture and whatever else – but somehow I had to make sure he did it well outside of city limits. Pendrick's last warning was still hanging over me, looming like a pendulum. I'd waited until the last minute to get myself into this mess, and now it was Friday morning, the thirty-first – the last day of the month. I had to be out of the city by midnight, or Pendrick's men – that evil fuck Redding, specifically – would be looking for me. To kill me...and probably worse, before that. They knew this van. If Ben was going to keep me trapped in it for any significant period of time…
I lifted my free foot and nudged him before he could get up. He looked down at me, zipping up his jeans. “What?”
“We can't stay here,” I tried to shout as clearly as I could, but the ball gag turned it into a muddy string of urgent, hissing vowels. I was hoping the very real fear in my eyes would communicate more. I was hoping he'd take the gag out, even for a few seconds.
“You must think I'm a complete idiot.” He pulled the blanket over my body again, making a tent over my hard cock. “That gag's staying in a good while longer. You're always talking, Johnny. You talk too much – but you never listen. Not to me. Not really.” His bare foot pushed into my cock, grinding down with terrible pressure…
I yelled, as much from anger as pain, and tried to throw my knee into his shin in my frustration. He easily avoided it, stepping over my body awkwardly in the relatively cramped confines of the van. He nearly stumbled down onto me as he knelt over me, but he was grinning widely despite. “Feisty!” he exclaimed, stroking my hair. “Don't worry. I won't leave the gag in there forever. We're just kind of in the middle of a mall parking lot right now – but eventually I'm gonna get you to a place where we can be alone. Nobody for miles. Then I'll definitely want to listen to you beg me for all sorts of raunchy shit – or maybe beg me to stop. Haven't decided yet.”
His hand suddenly closed around my balls through the blanket, and began to squeeze. The pain was instant and intense. “Now...when I open the door in minute, you're gonna be as quiet as a mouse...right?” He thumbed one of my balls – hard. I groaned loudly at the pain, and the sound was as honest as it was forlorn. “If you're not quiet, I'm going to do much worse than this when I get back – and no one will have heard you anyway. Believe me? Nod if you do.”
“Good.” He left my tortured balls to cower beneath the blanket alongside my shrinking cock. “Oh yeah,” he muttered to himself, and grabbed my one free leg. He wrapped another bungee cord around my ankle and hooked it under an identical metal beam on the other side of the van, spreading my legs apart, then tied it tight. “Don't want you making any noise once I'm gone, either. I almost trust you not to...” He was stroking my inner thigh with his warm hand. His touch was tender. Sweet. “...but I shouldn't.”
He got up and crawled into the front of the van. I didn't bother trying to shout at him again. He pulled the spare tapestry across the back of the seats to block the view, tinted windows or not. Then he opened the door and left me to shiver alone in a growing pool of dread.
He was gone for a long time. I lay there in the shifting light of the autumn afternoon that was lazily passing beyond the tinted windows. I tried in vain to pick apart the tape that covered the latch on the trick cuffs, until my hand cramped up. After that I thrashed around angrily, uselessly, strong limbs straining but going nowhere. This tantrum only served to knock the blanket off my hips. It slid down my thigh and crumpled amongst the rest of the pillows and padding, leaving everything by my left shin exposed to the chill air. I let my head fall onto the pillow with a frustrated moan, defeated.
During the few hours that followed I heard voices more than once, as people came within arm's reach of the van. I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted them to find me - perhaps I didn't. Part of me feared the potential humiliation of strangers seeing me tied down and naked, obviously abused and not looking the slightest bit manly. Another part of me…didn't want this to be over just yet.
There came the muffled din of young male voices, growing steadily louder as they approached the van. I heard little of what they were saying, each juvenile statement punctuated by a bout of snorting laughter.
“Shitty old thing..."
“...like a rape van...”
My stomach sank when a vague figure appeared in the window at the back of the van. I froze, looking up at a young man's face, seemingly miles away, beyond my curling toes. He was pressing his forehead against the glass and peering in, mashing his nose as he did so. His breath produced short-lived bursts of condensation that covered his partially open mouth. He was sharply attractive in his youth, with the healthy look of a corn-fed track star. He couldn't have been more than a junior in high school.
“See anything?” one of the others called.
“Hang on...” His bright eyes finally found me on the floor. I knew he couldn't see enough to realize I was in a predicament – but he saw plenty. I followed his eyes to my crotch, which was still being pushed wantonly upward by the pillow that had been shoved beneath my ass. I blushed all over when I realized my cock was hard, raising into the air like a python and now flexing visibly when I tried, somehow, to hide it using only the muscles of my groin.
The boy's face broke into a guilty smile as he watched my cock squirm...and then his mouth melted into an awed, toothy smirk...then it just hung half-open. His eyes were gliding over my hips, my balls, drinking me in. They kept coming back to my cock, and the slack-jawed mouth quickly transformed into a leering grin. If I'd been lying back there of my own volition, untethered and stroking my cock while he watched, it would have been insanely hot...but it wasn't. Instead it was achingly humiliating, and he probably couldn't even see my face...probably. He was no doubt searing my body into his brain so he could jerk himself off to the memory of it later that night. I could tell by his eyes that he'd be imagining my cock flopping around uselessly while his pink juvenile tool plowed its way in and out of my helpless ass. Maybe I'd be just as humiliated as I was now in his fantasy. Maybe I'd scream.
“It's nothing,” he finally called. “Bunch of boxes...” And then he was gone.
The young male voices faded in moments, replaced by the low metallic hum of some distant highway or another. My cock was still hard. I hated it for that.
Ben returned some time later, letting in a rapidly cooling breeze when he opened the door. “You could've asked if you wanted to let your jewels get some air,” was all he said upon seeing the blanket bunched up next to me. He had the tone of a parent scolding a child who'd been up to mischief. I didn't have the energy to grunt back at him. I'd given in to dark, vivid imaginings while I watched the light grow dimmer outside the van, and in that particular moment I was watching Redding's sweaty bald head gleam in the streetlight as he fucked Ben's bloodied, unconscious body while holding a gun against my temple. I was still very hard.
Ben leaned over the passenger seat with an armload of shopping bags, setting them next to my exposed body. Most of them were paper, filled with whispering plastic and clinking glass that spoke of groceries and bottles of liquor. One bag was quite different, however – a bright pink plastic thing, unmarked, that was almost offensive in its color.
He shut the door. “Got us some goodies,” he said brightly, holding something above my head. It was one of my credit cards, no doubt pilfered from my footlocker when I'd been passed out the night before. “Well, you did. I'm pretty broke these days, but I knew we'd both appreciate this stuff.” He nudged the pink bag. “Some sooner than others.”
I didn't bother trying to tell him that he was lucky he'd used one of the safe cards. He wasn't going to start taking anything seriously until I had this gag out of my mouth. Fuck, it's getting late...
He started up the van and drove for all of ten minutes before saying, “This'll do,” and parking again. He climbed into the back, spry as a randy college student. He crawled over me and settled into the warm space between my splayed legs, running his hands up the insides of my thighs, making me shiver at the sudden contact. “You look so fucking hot like this...” I could only sneer at him – but my cock agreed with him, and appreciated the compliment.
He leaned across my body and opened the pink plastic bag. Pulled something out. He held it above my stomach, letting its round tip trail along the dark fur beneath my naval. A black rubber butt plug, thick and heavy, one of the largest I'd ever seen. What was more, it had a plastic, battery-powered motor built into its base. My cock softened imperceptibly.
“I don't know how long I'll keep you back here...” Ben was saying, “but I do know there's a lot I want to do to you. I also know how I want you to feel when I do it. You made me feel like a fuck toy, so...that's what I'm going to turn you into.” He ran his hand over my stomach and down to my cock, caressing it, keeping me hard. “The guy at the counter told me this thing is only for 'advanced users.' He told me all about how to use it, even though it's stupidly simple. I think he was flirting with me.” He flashed a charming grin, glasses gleaming. “Anyway...I thought, 'I don't think I know any users more advanced than Johnny.' So I guess this will be just fine.”
He lifted my balls and rubbed his fingers against my hole. It was still aching intensely from everything it had been through, all but exhausted. I could barely clench it shut when he pushed the tip of his finger into the softened center of it.
He smiled warmly as his finger sank into me, looking over my naked, tensing limbs with something much more than lust in his eyes. My ass suddenly closed tightly around his knuckles, woken up by the invasion. The head of my cock was turning red in his grip. “I broke you in pretty good, but you're already tightening up again. You rebound quick! This thing, though...”
His fingers pulled out of me. He pushed the rubbery tip of the butt plug into my nipple a moment later – over it and across, making it even stiffen up all over again. “This thing's going to open you right up, and it's going to make sure you stay that way. I've seen the pornos. It'll work. You're gonna be good and ready by the time I want to fuck you again, and I'll be able to slide right in without any bitching from you – unless I want to hear it.” He reached under my hips and fluffed the pillow that was still lifting my hips into the air. He pulled my ass toward him, pushing my thighs up and apart as far as the bindings on my ankles would allow. It was enough to turn my hole out toward him, while making the bungee cords burn against the skin of my ankles. “Maybe we'll just get all your bitching out of the way now...”
The tip of the butt plug left my nipple, and I heard the snap of a plastic cap. An instant later I felt the cold wetness of lube at my ass, then the urgent kneading of his fingers as he pushed the lube into me and spread it across the twitching inner walls of my chute. I threw my head back on the pillows, grunting angrily. I could only lie there and let it happen. It was the only choice he'd given me.
Soon enough he was satisfied with his preparations, and I felt him lift my balls. I felt the tip of the butt plug down below them, pushing lightly into my taint. Teasing me. Toying with me.
I kept my eyes shut, kept my breathing even. Whatever Ben thought of me, I'd never had anything this big inside my ass before. Even knowing everything my hole had been through over the previous month, I could feel a frantic anxiety building at the base of my skull, threatening to overwhelm my thoughts…
The tip of the butt plug had made its way down to my sopping, throbbing hole, and then he pushed it into me without a second's pause. I yelped and pulled my ass away from it as far as I could – which was all of an inch. “Shhh...” His free hand held my waist in place, and the weight of his upper body was baring down on my thigh, muscled arms flexing with effort against my skin as he pushed the toy into me. There was nowhere to go.
The pressure was building as the rubber tool punctured the rim of my hole. The tip was widening steadily, stretching my ass out as it went, threatening to tear me in half. In what felt like no time at all, its girth had grown much wider than any cock I'd ever taken. The muscles of my ass and bowels shot searing waves of pain up my spine as they were pulled apart to accommodate it. “Fuck yeah, look at that...you're opening up like a flower, Johnny...”
I moaned shrilly, pathetic. His fingers and his breath were tickling the hairs of my taint and the insides of my ass cheeks, a tantalizing sensation paired with the blunt advance of the butt plug's unstoppable expansion. “That's good, yeah – bitch all you want...I got you...”
I reeled, readying myself for a prolonged process, for cruelty and needless twisting...however, it was over in a matter of moments. I felt my ass close up around the narrow base of the butt plug just after the worst of the stretching, embracing it with relief before the rubber flared out again, keeping it firmly in place.
“There we go.” Ben patted my taint, stroking my body with kneading fingers as if I were a dog. “Wasn't so bad, was it? No need to get all freaked out.”
My cock hadn't even had a chance to go soft. His fingers kneaded there as well, making sure it didn't. His hot, wet mouth closed around the head of my cock for a fleeting moment – just to taste it, to suck the precum from the piss slit – before he let it rest against my belly and pushed himself up to his knees. “Bet that's hard to ignore, huh?”
The butt plug was a gigantic knot inside of me. It wasn't painful at that point, not at all. Ben had been quite generous with the lube. I simply felt...full. Incredibly full. Much fuller than I'd ever felt with a mere cock inside of me. There was no corner of my chute that wasn't pressed up against its firm form. The ring of my ass quivered around the base of the butt plug, sending gentle bolts of pleasure into my bowels, up the curve of my taint. It was…
Ben clicked something in his hand, and the butt plug abruptly roared to life inside me. It was vibrating ludicrously, as if it were trying to burrow its way into my guts. I shouted into the gag as my body contorted around the robotic intruder, the muscles of my stomach contracting and pushing down against it – which only served to pin my prostate against the vibrating butt plug, wrenching it to life. It was immensely, immediately pleasurable – though every bit of it was forced. I gasped and moaned meekly as I tried in vain to pull my knees up to my chest, panting through my nose as my abs burned with their fruitless effort to expel the tool from my ass.
Ben was staring down at me, a warm smile on his face. He was holding something small, black, and plastic in his hand – a remote, which he'd no doubt used to turn on the vibrator that was now thrashing my bowels.
He leaned over me and yanked the pillows and cushions out from under my body, until nothing was under me except the rough carpet and the hard metal floor of the van beneath it. He then pulled the blanket back over the top of my body, stroking my hard cock one last time as he did so. I bit down on the ball gag and opened my eyes to watch him climb back into the driver's seat. The butt plug hummed deeply inside of me, almost rattling my teeth. I could hear it, muffled and relentless, and I knew he could as well. Other than Ben shuffling around in the front seat, it was the only sound inside the van. My skin was blushing all over, pale and pink, tingling excitedly despite all my fears.
Ben started the engine and began to drive. The road was rumbling up from the tires to shake the entire frame of the van from below – which was shaking me, in turn. We were on a highway soon after, driving very fast. The vibrating butt plug slowly settled inside my chute as we went, encouraged by the endless vibration of the road and my own slowly, tentatively relaxing muscles. Though my cock and my prostate were aching against the onslaught of the steady vibration, I realized that, if I kept my breathing deep and even, I could handle it...
Once I'd finally allowed my thighs and hips and spine to relax, the protruding plastic base of the butt plug came to rest against the floor of the van, pinned between the violently trembling metal and the weight of my own body...and the vibrations rocketing through my lower half immediately intensified three times over. The smooth, unforgiving surface of the vibrator had already been forcing itself against my throbbing prostate – and now it was all but raping it.
I groaned throatily without thinking as a sharp pang of pure pleasure shot up from my loins – a groan that quickly became nervous mewling once I realized that the inescapable sensation wasn't fading. In fact it quickly intensified, until it had plateaued far above a level I was at all comfortable with. The shuddering tip of the butt plug was smashed against my prostate, vibrating meatily inside of me just as violently as the rest of the van. Even my breathing sounded like I was pushing air out of my nostrils and into the vortex of a whirring fan. I could feel a hot gush of slick precum push its way up the long channel of my hard cock, insistent and unwelcome, oozing out the tip in a matter of seconds. I wanted – I needed to come, right then and there. I needed to come so badly it hurt.
I pulled at the handcuffs, gnawing on the gag in my mouth as my loins began to throb mightily. I couldn't take it. I strained my calves and thighs, and managed to lift my hips just high enough to keep the butt plug away from the terrible tremors of the road. My ass clenched tightly around the vibrating base as I did so, somehow sending more waves of raw sensation down my thighs and deeper into my gut.
This maneuver shoved my hard cock upwards, tenting the blanket lewdly above me. The tip of my cock was already creating a large, dark smudge of spreading wetness on the light fabric. I can do this, I thought. Just hold this position for…
I grimaced. My muscles were already starting to cramp, having been stuck in the same position for so many hours. The dull pain soon became unbearable, and I let my body relax once more – but this only brought the pulsing base of the butt plug back into contact with the reverberating floor of the van. I moaned unhappily as the intense reverberations of the road again filled my body with relentless sensation, making my cock throb hungrily beneath the blanket, forcing every waking thought to focus on the tremors of my sex. The inflamed knob of my prostate pulsed against the butt plug, begging me to save it from its torment – but neither of us had anywhere to go.
“May as well just enjoy it,” Ben said conversationally from the front seat. “The gas tank's full, and I'm not one-hundred percent sure how long we'll be driving.” Was he happy about this? He sounded happy. “I'm probably gonna be driving for a while...”
The bastard. I knew he could hear it now, the hard rubber of the butt plug thrumming loudly against the floor between my legs – my pathetic, desperate, mewling voice caught between my throat and the ball gag. Did he know this would happen? He had to have known, or he wouldn't have made me lie directly on the floor of the van.
As if to answer me, Ben stepped on the gas. As the van's speed increased, so too did the vibrations – and the insanity-inducing pleasure.
What's the point of resisting? I remember thinking, as my world slowly but surely became centered around the overwhelming sensations emanating from the inside of my palpitating crotch. I'm too tired to hold out...and...and this feels too good...more than good...so much more...
Ben turned on some heavy rock music, singing along softly as I sank into a far lesser version of myself mere inches away from the seat of his pants.
I lost myself during the evening hours we spent on the road. He stopped once for gas, but not nearly long enough for me to get ahold of my thoughts before the intensified attack of the vibrator began again.
Night had fallen at some point, drenching my world in darkness, lit only by occasional rivers of passing streetlights that flowed sensuously over the tightened muscles of my body. I was dimly aware that the van was slowing down, turning – and then driving over a dirt road. A rough, uneven dirt road. This was worse than before, worse by far. Each jolt of the van sent the butt plug, and entire mess of nerve endings that was wrapped around it, deeper into my ass, accentuating the roaring pleasure with sharp gasps of pain.
The van stopped after a time, but that did nothing to snap me out of it. The butt plug was still gnashing my prostate in its jaws. My cock still ached from its tip down to its base, which was also firmly lodged against the wide shaft of the vibrating toy. I had been drooling out the sides of the ball gag for over an hour, stubbly cheeks wet and cool with the steady torrent. I hadn't noticed.
I heard Ben opening and closing the front door, but it was as if he were on the other side of a waterfall, as if I were floating above everything else. An orange light crept into the van through the front windows, flickering as it grew. I smelled burning wood. The back of the van opened up some time later, and everything tilted and swayed as he entered it – and then came a final jolt to my nerves as he slammed the doors shut, rocking the entire frame.
I looked around me, trying to clear my mind for the first time since the plug had been forced into me. Not much had changed. It was dark, well past early evening. I was still tied down in the back of the van, still completely exposed, and the vibrating butt plug was still filling up my throbbing chute. My cock was engorged, periodically dripping thick trails of precum onto my belly, where other streams had long since dried, streaking the thin trail of dark fur across the pale skin of my stomach. Everything was drenched in silver light, I realized.
I looked down my body and found the source. The light came from the glow of my laptop, which was resting in Ben's lap. He was sitting between my legs and facing me, his back resting against the rear doors of the van. He was watching the screen, its bright light reflecting off his glasses and utterly concealing his eyes. The rest of his chiseled face was unreadable, his mouth slack and still. The maddening thrum of the vibrator continued on, filling the van with its white noise.
Ben raised his hand and clicked the remote, and the plug suddenly – miraculously – went still inside the tortured cradle of my bowels. I shrieked with relief, then stuttered, then almost began to sob. My body kept throbbing, as if the plug were still vibrating, not yet believing that the ordeal was over – but I knew that it was, for now, and the sheer relief nearly broke me then and there. It didn't feel like my cock would ever go soft again.
Finally, he spoke. “Can't believe you didn't have this thing password protected, in your line of work. Guessing you thought you'd never need it, since nobody knows where you are – what with driving the van around everywhere. Which is smart, I guess...huh. I'm just talking to myself.”
He glanced up for a moment, his eyes glued to my ass, where the toy protruded. Then it was back to staring at the screen. “I've never seen so much video of myself in one sitting. This is surreal. I've been going backwards, by the way. Saw all the most recent stuff – I guess you already knew exactly what tipped my wife off about our little affair. You saw a lot more than that, it looks like. Anyway...had to go through tons of files to find this.”
He turned the laptop around to show me the screen, blinding me for a moment. When my eyes adjusted, I saw that he was playing a video file. It was from the camera I'd hidden in Ben's bedroom, but it was footage from a night that I'd not yet watched myself – and hadn't planned to. I watched myself shove Ben's naked body onto his own bed, where he flopped about drunkenly, his hands cuffed behind his back. Watched myself tie his ankle to the foot of the bed with a sadistic grin plastered onto my face. Watched him wriggle when I left, watched the relentless spanking that followed. Watched him cry and beg and eventually give up in shame as I slowly, steadily pushed my long cock deep into his raw, reddening ass…
“Is that why you wanted to fuck me on the bed that night? So you could jerk off to it later?” His forearm was moving up and down behind the screen. He was touching himself. His legs were bare, I realized – his jeans and boxers and shoes were a crumpled mess next to the footlocker. “I was really pissed at first, but I have to say...just knowing that I did the same thing to you last night...kinda makes it all okay. You ever been more turned on than you've ever been in your life, and also angrier than you've ever been?” He was staring me down, daring me to enjoy the filthy images on the screen, the sound of Ben's pathetic, defeated grunts and moans coming out of the laptop's speakers. I shifted uncomfortably, very aware of how little I could move.
“Anyway...how about we see whether or not you've learned your lesson?” He set the laptop on the footlocker with the video still playing, drenching everything in its shifting silvery light. His cock was rock hard, swaying between his hips. He stripped off his already-unbuttoned shirt, finally exposing the rolling mounds of firm muscle that made up his buxom torso. He set his glasses aside last, and then began to run his hands over his body, watching me watch him. “You like that, buddy?” I didn't dare nod. It didn't matter.
“Here.” He leaned over my tightly bound form, reached behind my head, and undid the strap of the ball gag. He pulled it out of my mouth with a dry plop and tossed it aside. I sucked in a deep breath of air, tried to speak – croaked. “Got anything to say to me?” he asked lowly, crouching between my splayed knees. "Take your time."
“You've only got a few seconds before I make it real hard for you to form sentences,” he said, cutting me off. "If I like what I hear, I'll let you out of those cuffs - then I'll show you why I dragged you all the way out here.” He smiled. "I think you'll appreciate it."
I swallowed, gathering my thoughts. Failing. He just stared down at me, patient and tense. "If not, we're gonna have a different kind of fun. Don't fuck this up, Johnny."
The words came, and I didn't stop them. “We need to be out of the city – right now." My voice was ragged from dehydration. "Pendrick – he told me to be gone by sundown - sundown today.”
He just nodded silently, hands appearing at my naked hips, rubbing up and down on either side of my engorged cock. I did my best to ignore it. “He doesn't fuck around, Ben. Any of his men see this van, they'll kill whoever's in it – or worse, if it's Redding. You remember Redding, trust me.” He leaned back, untying the bungee cords that had held down my ankles. The muscles of my legs were too stiff to move as he threw them over his shoulders, putting my plugged ass dangerously close to his cock. “Are you listening to me? You have to let me go.”
“You're so full of shit,” he replied bluntly. "Guess you can stay here a bit longer." He took hold of my swollen balls with one hand, pulling them away from my sweaty taint. I grunted at the dull pain, and tried not to react as his fingers traced the ravaged rim of my sphincter where it still clenched firmly around the base of the butt plug. It was deliciously sensitive.
“Damn it, Ben! They'll kill us botHUNGGH-!” He'd grabbed the butt plug and tore it out of me without warning. I was still brimming with lube, but the sudden flaring of my asshole and the subsequent sucking emptiness was too much. I roared in pain and surprise instead of finishing my sentence, toes curling tightly on either side of his head. He tossed the toy over his shoulder, and I heard it squelch as it hit the corner of the van.
I didn't have much time to let the emptiness sink in. His fingers – two – three – slid into my gaping hole an instant later, slick with lube. They were in to the knuckles an instant after that, my ass well-prepared to take them. It still hurt. “Found it!” he exclaimed as his fingers mashed into the swollen knob of my prostate. My cock jolted with sudden, extreme urgency, every inch of my groin telling me it needed to piss – no, to come, to come so fucking hard…but it wouldn't...
“You fucking idiot,” I managed to gasp, even as my pulsing prostate soaked my guts in torturous pleasure. “You can do this when we're out of the city – oh, fuck!” My entire ass, cheeks and all, clenched and spasmed to no avail as he shoved half his hand into me with a playful growl. My ass convulsed meatily around his knuckles. The pain would have been intense, were it not for the fact that he was practically pinching my prostate the whole time. I remember being afraid of dying.
“We are out of the city - we're in the middle of nowhere. Why do you think I took the gag out?" His voice was distant, muffled by the pain. "Anyway...I thought we understood each other. I've been pretty fucking nice to you today, considering...I mean, I went through a lot of trouble to make you feel good. I thought you'd say you were sorry about everything, that you finally understood why I lost my mind last night...thought maybe you'd say you wanted me to...well, to do what I'm about to do to you. I gave you a chance.” He shook his head, frowning, his fingers slowing down inside of my slick, twitching canal. “I'm actually pretty disappointed you thought I'd fall for something so...see-through. Transparent.”
I somehow found my breath again, but I could only give voice to the incredible, terrible things I was being made to feel. I made some guttural, wordless, apelike whimper as he kneaded my insides – I couldn't help it – and this brought a smile back to his face. “That's more like it! That was fucking honest.”
He slid his knuckles out of me, leaving me gasping and throbbing with stinging pain. He pushed my legs up and bent me in half. "God damn it, Ben, no-" He rammed his hard cock as deep into my ass as it would go, stabbing straight into the core of my body. My ass was loose, and sore, and filled with lube, but I was still clenching it shut against the phantom pain of his digital assault. He impaled me quickly, seamlessly – but it hurt. It hurt a lot.
I bellowed, forgetting any words I might have spoken. The sudden fuck pushed air out of my sloppy asshole, making a wet farting sound that had once turned me on so much – at least, when it had been coming from Ben's tortured ass instead of my own. I couldn't even wallow in this fresh humiliation, though. He was already fucking me. I grasped the metal of the cuffs with white knuckles, straining and bucking and knowing none of it mattered.
“Yeah, this'll fucking do,” he grunted breathlessly, his heavy body bearing into me as he held me down with his hands and his hips, looming over me like a mountain. He'd completely blocked out the light from the laptop's screen. It was now merely a soft glow that delicately encased his shadowy, featureless form. I couldn't see his face – I could feel him, though. Not just the meaty, thrusting weapon of his cock as it reacquainted itself with my ravaged cunt, but his strong hands and fingers where they bore into the undersides of my thighs...the blunt force of his hips against my ass cheeks...the flecks of his spit as he spat his words down at me. “I like hearing you whine like this.”
I knew I was making sounds that excited him – strained, almost squealing grunts pushed out between my teeth and through my nose. They were desperate sounds, conquered. I didn't care. I wanted him to finish quickly, wanted him to come. I knew he'd be more willing to listen to reason after he'd blown his load. Just had to hold out...
My prostate was shivering to life once again where the head of his cock was raking against it like a piston. The pleasure was so intense that it began to pull me out of my body once more, until I was almost numb to it. Again came the warm, familiar wetness of precum dribbling against my heaving chest as he fucked it out of my hard, flopping shaft. How much could I possibly have in me? I wondered absently, though my thoughts were quickly melting into vague shapes and colors beneath the swelling, painful, blossoming pleasure of being thoroughly and mercilessly fucked.
“You like that?” Ben's gravelly voice rasped from somewhere that was either far above me, or right against my ear. “I can tell you like it. Don't pretend, man – listen to yourself.” I felt his fingers playing with my cock – but only for a moment, to make sure it was hard. He bent me further and let gravity help him fuck me, throwing all his weight into each shuddering, crushing thrust. I was being coaxed to the edge of blissful oblivion. I was being smoothly skewered by a throbbing railroad spike. Was I begging him to stop, or begging for more? I only heard the word “please” being pushed out of my throat between sobbing moans and frantic gasps, over and over. “Please -!”
I knew he was smiling, watching me squirm and strain against his fucking while making the sounds of a mule in heat. “You're not going anywhere,” he told me, voice thick with perverted glee. "Not until I fuck some sense into you." He slapped my ass cheek hard enough to make me clench up around his pummeling cock, each of us claiming the other in his own way.
This fresh, deep sting brought me into a brief moment of clarity. The riot of sensation was still there, but my body wasn't my own. Somehow I managed to speak between the breathless grunts and groans, and my voice was dark and clear.
“Just get it over with, you fucking asshole.”
His face fell, jaw hanging, and the fucking suddenly stopped. “What the fuck did you say to me?” he asked softly. His hands were on my throat in the same instant, thumbs pushing into my windpipe. What little I could see of his face was twisted with rage. “I took care of you today - better than anybody's ever done it I'd bet - and that makes me an asshole? What, you aren't liking this Johnny? I don't fucking believe you.” Despite the silvery darkness, I was seeing red around the edges of my vision. I wasn't getting enough air. “I want you to like it, don't you get that?” My lungs were on fire, screaming for oxygen. His cock wasn't fucking me anymore; it was simply growing inside of me, crouching tightly in the narrow tunnel of my cunt like a stalking predator. “You don't have to like it, you know. It can be just like last night, if that's how you want it.”
“Please...” I choked meekly, though I barely heard myself. I hated hearing it, I really did, but I wanted to live.
“I fucking loved it when you did this to me,” he growled, emphasizing his words with two heavy, deliberate pumps that made me yelp as my ass quaked around his cock. “Today was just about me returning the favor.” His hands were on my chest now, pressing my body into the floor, pinning me down. I'd only just caught my breath, and now it was slowly, surely being pressed out of me. My head was getting light, senses fluttering. Did he know he was suffocating me? Did he care? “Brought you out here to patch things up, to make you talk to me...really talk to me...but you're still an asshole, Johnny, and now you're a fucked asshole, and that's just the way it is. You may as well enjoy it...”
He went on fucking me, like a terrible machine. He kept pressing his weight of each thrust into his hips, his shoulders. He kept pushing down into my chest, forcing me to take shallow, thin breathes, hardly breathing at all. I heard myself whimpering weakly, but I couldn't stop it. My hard cock bobbed and drooled and begged to be released as it flopped about mere inches from my face, a blatant insult to the very real danger I was in. My insides twisted and trembled beneath the deep, urgent punches of Ben's thick cock deep in my guts, and each attack splattered my sweet spot under an earthquake of throbbing, wet pleasure that I was only dimly aware of. I found myself at the precipice once more, somewhere beyond my own body, my own self – and then I was beyond even that.
I closed my eyes against the dark, sweaty, aching world inside the van and let my mind sink back into the comfortable, familiar rooms of my younger days. I hadn't visited those rooms in a long time, but it was easier than it had ever been to find them again. They were rooms I'd been forced to hollow out for myself the year I graduated high school, before I'd ever even met Pendrick, when I lived with…
They were safe places, those rooms, and I shut the door behind me. The world became more muffled the deeper into those rooms I went. I smelled something strange then, something I hadn't smelled in a long, long time. Cigarette smoke. Not anything bought in a store, no...fresh tobacco.
Panic hit me like a freight train. I don't know if I opened my eyes, but I know what I saw then, clear as day. I was in my room. My old room, in my old home. It was dark in there, but the door to the trailer’s main room was open. The television was on, blasting some football game into the musty air of the trailer and filling the narrow structure with blue-white lights and the sound of cheering crowds. I could see my father out there in his armchair, splayed out in nothing but his boxers and a white shirt, a large beer can resting lazily between his hairy legs, against the sizable pile of his limp package, while he smoked his hand-rolled cigarette. His eyes were glued on the screen, his stubbly face manly and handsome, blank and stupid. He didn't care what was happening to me. Permission had been given.
I was completely naked and on my back, torn clothes strewn in heaps around the messy room. The sheer teenage humiliation of being naked in front of anyone – much less my father – had already come and gone when they'd ripped my clothes off. What was going on now – what they were seeing, what they were dong, what my own father was listening to – it was far, far worse than simple nudity, or anything I'd ever imagined.
One of them was behind my head, his back to the wall. His knees were pinning my arms to the bed painfully, cutting off circulation. His balls were rubbing against my forehead. They were dank and sweaty, unwashed and radiating intense heat. His hands were on my nipples, twisting cruelly, sending spikes of electric pain up and down the length of my spine. No one had ever touched me there – or anywhere. I could see his erection bobbing inches from my mouth, but he was too chickenshit to make me suck on it. He'd end up using a hole that didn't have any teeth once his buddies were done breaking it in.
Two other men were crouching on either side of my bed, both sweaty and grinning and half-naked. They were pulling my legs apart, laughing drunkenly while a fourth held my hips against his and mercilessly raped my ass. His wiry pubes raked against the underside of my tender hole, one of many intimate, unimagined violations that I'd become accustomed to as the night progressed. The pain of the cock itself was miserable, unending. I was certain I was going to die. He hadn't been gentle when he'd pushed into me, had only used spit. He'd been my first. I could hear myself blubbering and begging as the cock opened me up, my young voice shrill and terrified.
“Keep that little faggot quiet,” my father shouted from the other room, sucking on his cigarette. “I said you could teach him a lesson, not let him ruin the game.” His beer can was dangerously close to tumbling off the chair. I could see the reason why between the mass of sweaty bodies attacking me: his cock was steadily hardening in his boxers, crowding everything else out of his ample lap. He wouldn't look at me.
“Shut the door,” came a deep, stern voice from above. These other men were strangers to me, but I knew that voice well. It came from the big man who was straddling my chest, all but suffocating me with his weight. I could see his giant hairy beer gut looming above the crumpled blue fabric of his boxers. The piss flap wasn't buttoned, and the cloth had flowered open. I could see the thick rod of his cock poking out of it, its base nestled in a bed of black, curly, unkempt pubic hair. I smelled his musky odor just as it had been that night, clear as day. “Go, do it – I got his arms.”
The man holding down my arms with his knees got up. I tried to move them, tried to punch someone, but my uncle leaned forward from his perch on my chest and grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head as I wailed with impotent rage. “Where you going?” he teased, voice heavy with the stench of cheap beer and tobacco. He was a big man, as much muscle as fat. I was only just out of high school, and I was a track star, not a wrestler or a quarterback. I was nothing against him.
The smelly man who'd been pinching my nipples closed the door just then, drenching the room in darkness. “Aw, I can barely see him now.” His voice was a deep southern drawl, but it had a distinct and airy lisp.
“Better this way,” exclaimed the skinny man who held down my left leg. “We can pretend he's a pussy.”
“He's a pussy either way,” grunted the angry man who was fucking me. “Little...fucking...cunt!”
I felt a sharp rush of deep, sticky intrusion of heat as he emptied his cock into me, and then a searing pain as he pulled out. I sniveled for a moment, then went back to wailing when one of the others took his place on the bed, spitting onto his cock and roughly thumbing my savaged hole.
I couldn't stand another fucking. Not again. I was crying openly now, barely forming coherent words. I was running out of ways to beg them. They didn't care, of course. They only heard the mewling of a faggot. I shrieked like a girl when the next cock, bigger than the first, punctured the rim of my sphincter and pushed into me without bothering to tease.
“Fuck me, that's tight!”
“Yeah – squeezes like a boa constrictor don't he?”
“Nah – I'm the only python in here, brother!”
My uncle was leaning lower now, oily face nearly touching mine. The foul smell of his breath consumed me. I'd always felt an instinctual unease around him, especially when I'd catch him staring at me doing yard work shirtless on hot summer days, or when he'd conveniently forget I was taking a shower before barging into the bathroom without knocking. I should have known this monster had always been lurking underneath his skin, waiting for an opportunity to strike. “You gotta learn, boy,” he growled. His cock had fully escaped his boxers as his weight shifted on me. It was pressing into my chest, oozing precum onto my smooth skin. “You wanna disrespect your pa? You wanna be a faggot instead of a man? This is what happens to faggots. We'll see if you still wanna be one after this.” He licked the sweat off my face, long and slow.
Someone was playing with my cock. It had been limp this whole time, but now – now it was hard. Despite the reeling disgust I felt as my own uncle molested me...despite the terrific pain of the cock stabbing in and out of my broken hole...my dick felt so good in that strange man's hand. This was yet another part of my body no one had ever touched before. Until that moment it had been secret, safe… He began to stroke it – squeeze it – and I started to shriek, thrashing, twisting, trying to pull it out of his rough, dirty fingers before they could make me like what was happening to me.
“Can still hear him!” came my dad's muffled roar through the door. My uncles strong, calloused hands closed around my throat, cutting off my cries. The world went dizzy.
“We're all gonna teach you a lesson,” he breathed into my ear, rubbing his hairy crotch into my quivering belly, rutting like a gorilla. “Gonna teach you, one by one...and then we're gonna do it again. Well...at least, I am.” The clumsy, unseen hand around my cock was moving faster, and another was pulling roughly at my pink balls. It was even worse than the rape of my ass, this unwelcome plundering of my intimates that I was absolutely powerless to stop. My cock just got harder, however, coaxed to full attention despite my own horror, another layer of humiliation among many. Still my uncle taunted me, his tongue finding its way into my ear like a hot, wet, tickling slug. “Maybe more after that – we got a lot of beer. Could be here all night. Gotta fuck the fag out of you – promised your pa we would.” The cock in my ass was longer than the first, and it was now hitting something deep inside of me...something...strange. The grip on my cock was moving faster, lighter, with terrible purpose...
My uncle was grinning widely when my cock erupted behind him, spraying his broad back with the first orgasm I'd ever had in the presence of another human being. “Goodness, look at that...” said the lispy man's voice. Two of the other men laughed. One of them made a mildy disgusted noise. A rough mouth was eagerly lapping the cum off the tip of my cock a moment later. I knew it was the smelly nipple-twister with the lisp, enjoying me like a party favor, flooding my body with unwanted pleasure, crippling my senses.
My uncle was still talking, getting off on gloating, or just the sound of his own voice. “Gonna give you all the cocks you could ever ask for...” One huge hand held my throat closed while the other felt its way around my chest, my pits, any piece of me it could find. My hands were free, but I didn't resist. I was too exhausted. I was broken. “We're gonna fuck you till you hate it, boy...so you may as well enjoy it.”
“Johnny!” shouted a voice. I felt as if I should recognize it, but I couldn't think straight. The room began to fade.
"Hey! Snap out of it!”
I blinked my eyes and took a deep, hitching breath. I was finally able to breath again, and deeply.
I was back in the van. It was hotter than before, windows fogged over with our sweat. We'd been at it for some time. Ben was hovering over me, his cock still hard and buried inside of me – but he wasn't fucking me anymore. “Jesus, Johnny! You...fuck...you okay?” He sounded concerned. “You still with me buddy?” I couldn't see his face.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. My mind was blank – rather, it was teetering listlessly, back at the edge of some terrible chasm. I was breathing rapidly, muscles aching, my hands in fists where the cuffs held them. I could feel wetness in my eyes, stinging them as it dried, and my throat was an arid desert. My cock was only semi-hard, softening where it rested on my stomach between Ben's large, cradling biceps. A glistening string of white had just finished oozing from its tip, joining the rest of the mess – gobs of it, splattered and dripping over my ribs, chest, shoulders, and face. I'd come all over myself.
I looked up at Ben. All I saw was the towering shadow of a man on top of me, silhouetted by the silver glow of an electronic screen. I could hear thousands of fans cheering in my head, urging them on. I could feel more than one set of hands on my body…
“I can't do this anymore...” I started to say, but the words quickly dissolved into a shuttering sob. My face was twisting in on itself, and then I was crying. A useless fucking kid all over again. “Enough, man...please, enough...” I managed to plead clearly between fits of sobbing. “You win, okay? You win...” My voice sounded so sad, so crippled. My body shook. I couldn't stop it.
“What're you...” he began, uncertain.
I turned my face away from him, wishing my hands were free, wishing I could cover it. I was just barely failing at keeping myself silent – but failing all the same. A dam had broken, exposing everything I'd ever kept pent up inside of me. There were no walls between Ben and I during the raw, silent moments that followed. It was the most humiliating feeling I'd ever felt in my entire life, and somehow...underneath it all...the most exhilarating. He held the quivering core of my being in his hands, flexing wetly around his cock. He was listening to my voice without any feigned confidence or calculated threat to dress it up, simply a crude and sprawling foundation. He really saw me, every bit of me – even the pathetic, broken parts that no one else had ever cared to look for. To be this pathetic, this vulnerable...my cock was getting hard again already. Mere inches of flesh separated the base of my cock from the tip of his, and whose flesh it was I couldn't say. This, I realized, was true intimacy...and it was terrifying. No wonder I'd always been so wary of it.
His thick rod slowly slipped out of me, leaving a widened, throbbing cavern that the rest of my body collapsed into. His hips remained between my legs, and I was gripping his waist with my thighs. I loosened the grip once I realized I was holding him there, letting him pull away from me. “Fuck, man...I'm sorry.” His voice was small and confused.
“What…” My own voice was evening out as I listened. I sniffed. I was in control again, though I could feel myself blushing. “What happened? I don't uh...remember.”
“I thought I was hurting you,” he replied haltingly. The light caught his face. His brow was deeply furrowed, his gaze softly sinking into my face as he studied it. “Like, really hurting you. You don't remember?”
I just stared at the black windows.
“I was...I got too rough.” He was lowering his hands to my body. "I guess I'm still too pissed off at you to be doing this..." I tensed away from him, but his touch was soft, tentative. He was rubbing my chest – he was actually trying to comfort me, leaning in as he did. I could feel the tip of his cock brushing against my ass cheeks as he relaxed into me. It was still hard. His warm, furry stomach was swelling firmly against my taint as he breathed in, breathed out, doing nothing to lessen the raging boner I'd managed to reclaim. The rhythm of his body was calming me, soothing me. It was serene, and utterly alien. “I'm seriously sorry, man...”
“That's enough,” I said quietly, closing my eyes. “I'm good now. We're good.” Just fuck me, I wanted to scream. "You don't have to do that." Finish it! Finish me off! I wanted to disappear, to sink into the dirt and never see Ben or anyone else again. If only he would've stopped stroking my chest – if only my god damned cock would stop throbbing, aching – I could have pretended to do just that.
“I'm such an idiot,” he said softly. His hands stopped massaging my chest. He pushed himself up and away from me.
"Nah, it's okay." I heard the metallic clink of keys, and I felt my wrists go limp as he removed the handcuffs. “I fucked up - this whole idea was fucked up.” My limbs were free, but I couldn't make myself move.
“Don't be like that...” I said, wondering why I was saying it. My cock throbbed, stiff as a flagpole. Ben pulled on his shorts and buttoned up his shirt.
“You just stay right there,” he ordered, closing the laptop and plunging us into thick, steamy darkness. “I'm gonna go clean up the bullshit I set up outside...and then...then I guess I'll take you...wherever. Back to my place, so I can get out of your hair." His voice was wavering, leaking. "This whole thing was a bad idea...you never should have come back.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked hoarsely. I tried to sit up, but my body wasn't having it.
The back of the van opened. The night outside was black and orange with flickering firelight, illuminating his figure as he stepped out into it. He turned to me, one hand on the door. “It'll just take a minute, then we can go. I uh...I had this stupid date planned. I thought you'd like it, having sex out under the stars. Like you said, that one time. I'm...I'm fucking insane, aren't I?”
He turned on a flashlight. His thick eyebrows were sagging, eyes full and clear and ashamed. His face was achingly handsome in a far different way when it wasn't twisted by anger or smothered by fear. My stomach fluttered, and I suddenly felt like I was floating.
He shut the door. I was enveloped in darkness again, wondering who I was now. I lay very still for a time, body quivering with unchecked lust and draining adrenaline and whatever that slightly sick feeling was that Ben had given me, when he looked at me with such sorrow. I slowly, cautiously moved my arms, gritting my teeth at the pain as my muscles twitched back to life. I crossed them over my chest, massaging my shoulders, my biceps, my wrists. “Jesus...” I whispered. I listened to him open bags just outside the van, listened to him walk away across what could only be a dense field of grass. Where had he taken us?
I managed to sit up, massaging my legs and ankles now, kneading life back into my body. My skin was buzzing with savaged nerve endings. I could still feel the restraints, the ball gag, Ben's cock. I know what I should do, I remember thinking. I should grab that gun from the glove box, make him give me my keys...just leave him out here… But I knew that time had come and gone. Both of us were hurting, and well beyond being a threat to one another.
I pulled myself over to the window, pressed myself against it, and peered out. Ben was many yards away, indeed in the middle of a wild, grassy field. He'd built a sizable campfire, hemmed in with rocks. He was crouched there, with his back to the van, perhaps trying to figure the best way to put it out. Thick forest surrounded the field, rolling back into the lonesome darkness of some empty countryside or another. He hadn't been lying – were were far, far away from the city. I felt, for a moment, that I could finally, fully relax.
Some small sound stopped me, however. A tiny snap of a twig or some gravel, far in the distance, barely heard. A hunting sound.
My animal brain was immediately thrown into high gear, jolting me from my stupor. Fear rippled like electricity across my skin, beneath the thin hairs that now stood on end. Something was very wrong here. We weren't alone.
Whoever was out there, they were very close. I knew it, felt it deep in my gut. I ducked away from the window, body groaning, mind very much alive. I couldn't yell for Ben, or the person hunting us would know we were on the defensive – and that would force them to play their hand. I didn't want that to happen yet – not yet. They already knew right were Ben was, I was sure of it. But did they know where I was? Did they know I had a gun in here?
The door handle at the back of the van began to move very, very slowly...
I didn't let myself think. My eyes strained in the dark, and I grabbed the ball gag and the handcuffs with the duct tape wrapped around the keyhole. I stuffed the gag in my mouth and cuffed my right wrist to the steel bar beneath the driver's seat. I managed to splay my still-naked body over the floor of the van by the time the back door softly opened, letting the night seep in. I hadn't given myself time to feel terror, but it came rushing in just then.
The first thing I saw was the hand gun, gleaming softly in the dim glow of the distant fire. I felt my insides clench up when I saw the face of the man holding it, even though my little half-baked plan was banking on the hunch that it was him. Pale and bald, grinning a shit-eating grin. Redding. He'd followed us out there. Somehow he'd found us.
I cursed myself as the dark sockets of his eyes bore into me, my nakedness, the ball gag, the wrist that was cuffed to the seat. This was moronic! What if he didn't buy it? What if he didn't care about getting his rocks off at all, and was just going to blow my brains out right there before shooting Ben in the back? I couldn't even yell for Ben to run, because I'd stuffed a god damned rubber ball into my mouth. I was sick with dread, numb with cold sweat. It was the most terrified I've ever been in my entire life.
Redding lowered the gun. “Kinky faggots,” he whispered with a low laugh, a hissing sound that dripped with venom. “Did all the hard work for me.” Then, a hair louder, in a sing-song voice: “You done fucked up royally, Johnny-boy. You lovebirds shouldn't have waited until the last minute to get out of Pendrick's city; now your asses are all mine.”
He leaned in, reaching between my legs. I pulled them up, panting into the ball gag, ready for something horrible to happen. He simply grabbed the other pair of handcuffs from the crumpled quilts. “I'll take those, if you don't mind. Now don't you go anywhere, Johnny-boy. Gonna take care of your clueless little bitch real quick. Well, scratch that...gonna take my time with your bitch. But don't you worry – I'll save plenty of pain for you. Gonna be a long night...” The door slipped shut, latching silently, and then he was gone. His shadow passed between the van and the firelight, twisting and expanding as he crept towards an unsuspecting Ben.
I reached over and ripped the duct tape off the cuffs, fingers shaking. Once it was exposed I flipped the small latch on the trick handcuffs, freeing my wrist. I sat up and yanked the ball gag from my mouth. I shook my head, slapped my face, forced myself to think through the mounting waves of dread. I had a gun in the glove box, but it wasn't loaded. The bullets were in my footlocker – my locked footlocker. Where was the key? Did Ben still have it?
“Hey there,” I heard Redding call, taunting. "Now don't you move, bitch-boy..." I crawled over to the window again and peered out. Redding had made it to the fire, and he was pointing the gun at Ben's head. Ben was standing, a slack expression of confused shock sinking into his face as he put his hands into the air. No…
Screw the key. There was no time to find it – there wasn't even any time to get dressed. Didn't matter, though. Redding thought I was still cuffed in here, completely out of the picture. I wasn't.
I opened the back of the van quietly and slipped out into the cool, breezy air of the night. It calmed me, caressed me, slithering across my skin like a lover. The gravel road bit into my bear feet, and the grass tickled my legs like an army of spiders. I tilted my head around the side of the van, toward the fire. Ben was putting the cuffs on behind his back, tears streaming down his strong cheeks and getting lost in his trimmed beard. Redding was totally focused on him, pressing the barrel of the gun against his head, his long tongue snaking out of his mouth to waggled at Ben's face. I knew where this was going. I couldn't let it get that far.
I stayed low to the ground as I prowled across the field, half-hidden by the grass and the darkness. I stayed at Redding's back as he yanked Ben's shirt off his shoulders and bunched it at his cuffed wrists down by his waist, running his pinching hand and the cold barrel of the gun over the taut, quivering mounds of Ben's muscular torso. Ben was openly weeping now, trying his best not to look at the van, perhaps wondering if I were already dead. Just don't look this way, I pleaded silently. Don't see me yet…
I was close enough to hear them now. Redding was unzipping his fly, rubbing his long, pink cock against Ben's quivering stomach while Ben tried not to flinch and failed. “This is going right up inside you,” Redding was snarling, pushing the gun against the underside of Ben's jaw. “Nobody's gonna hear you beg me for it, either, so I'm gonna take my time. Why're you idiots all the way out here in the bumfuck boonies, anyway? Didn't your boyfriend tell you we'd be looking for him?” Redding leaned in and licked Ben's face, invading his trembling mouth with his slick, glistening tongue. “Did half the work for me...”
I felt the old heat rising in me at the sight of Redding's lewd paws clawing at Ben's helpless body, white fingers pressing into his flesh as they groped and pulled. I had to bite my own tongue to keep myself from shouting and rushing him with my bare hands. I saw it then, halfway between me and Redding's back – a blanket that Ben had laid out on the grass near the fire, and something heavy and glittering sitting on it. It was an open bottle of strong whiskey, no doubt something Ben had meant to lubricate our starlit makeup sex. It was large, half-empty, and it looked very, very heavy.
“Drink up,” Redding was saying, pushing a paper cup full of whiskey against Ben's mouth. “Gonna be the last one you get, so you better drain that shit!” Ben was pursing his lips, shutting his eyes, and Redding was getting angry. He was pressing the gun into Ben's stomach. “Open your fucking mouth!”
My hand closed around the neck of the whiskey bottle, and that was that. I whistled once, sharp and clear. Redding began to turn, bringing the gun around and away from Ben's stomach. I saw his eyes for a moment before I brought the bottle down over the top of his domed head. They were wide and piercing in the firelight, swimming in cold confusion. I knew he saw me in that instant, naked and enraged - and he knew how much I hated him. The bottle shattered on top of his head with a sickening crunch and a cascade of glittering glass, drenching him in a shower of whiskey and trickling rivers of blood.
He bellowed, dropping the gun and the cup, reaching for the broken ruin of his head as if he could push it back into place again. I hit him again across the jaw and he spun around, lost his balance, and fell into the fire. The whiskey lit up like propane, and the night was suddenly alive with blooming flame and Redding's shrieking, hellish howling.
Ben was screaming too, face warped by his horror as he watched Redding thrash within the fire. I grabbed him and hauled him to his feet, rushing the both of us away from the flames. I stopped, remembering the gun, and stumbled back toward the fire. Ben kept running, hands still cuffed behind his back, panting heavily and blind in his terror.
As I crouched to grab the gun, Redding stood up. He was completely covered in flames, a bright pillar of agony. I pointed the gun at him. I nearly pulled the trigger, nearly put him out of his misery – but I stopped myself. Screams would echo, and fade, and perhaps be mistaken for mating foxes. There would be no mistaking a gunshot, however, not for miles around. My thoughts were cold and calculated as I watched Redding die, because the alternative was gibbering disgust and doom, doom, doom.
The shrieking inferno that was Redding turned away from me and ran, taking long, flaming strides across the field until it reached the treeline and dove into it. The screams were fading, as I knew they would, swallowed up by the dense trees that loomed like giants as the glowing mass of the dying man stumbled deeper into them. Before long I saw nothing, heard nothing. It was as if he'd never been. I tossed what was left of the bottle into the roasting heat of the flames.
I found Ben collapsed against the side of the van, sweaty chest heaving between his shoulders as he wept and hyperventilated and made a teary, snotty mess of himself. I put the gun down and went to him, crouched beside him. Touched him.
His body went rigid for a moment before his eyes cleared, focusing on my face in the wavering firelight. I was holding him, pressing my body against his, pulling his head into the crook of my neck and gripping his sweat-slick hair between my fingers. I hadn't meant to do any of it, not even this. It just happened.
“Jesus,” Ben sobbed into my throat. “You killed him, Johnny – you killed him…!” I wrapped my arms around his broad, naked shoulders, enveloping him. Needing him. “Jesus Christ...he was gonna kill us, wasn't he? It was him or us, wasn't it? Wasn't it?”
“Yeah,” I whispered shakily, reeling from the horror of it and wishing it weren't true. “I had to,” was all I could say. It didn't sound like enough of a reason.
I stayed there with him, and he stayed there with me. In time both of us had stopped sobbing, and each of our bodies had absorbed the uncontrollable trembling of the other. Our breathing was slow and deliberate, deep and soothing, and the fire itself seemed to swell and flicker to that same grim, gray rhythm.
I undid the handcuffs around Ben's wrists and put him in the back of the van. He curled up into a ball among the blankets there, hiding his face in his hands like a little boy. I pulled on some clothes and drove us out of there, back down the lonely road towards the distant lights of some town or another. The headlights raked across Redding's black car as I turned onto a state highway, parked still and silent along the shoulder of the road. That was the last I ever saw of him.