The Prisoner

I don’t remember the details of that night very clearly. I awoke at around three A.M. to a fist pounding on my hotel room door and loud voices in the hall. Not understanding the language, I wondered if a fire or some other emergency had occurred. I slipped on my white brief and opened the door. Several guys in uniforms instantly grabbed me and started dragging me down the hallway. Resistance brought a blow to the back of my head, and blackness….

I revived to find myself lying in a small cell and suffering a big headache. Still wearing just my brief, I got up cautiously and began to grope my way around the extremely dark enclosure. It had stone or brick walls, a wooden floor, a high ceiling and a little window at the top. Through it I could see the night sky and a few stars.

“Help! Where am I?” I yelled.

No response. Not a sound.

I found a door, a metal one, and banged on it for several minutes. No one came. I sat down in a corner. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why had this happened to me? Had I been arrested? I’d heard stories about guys visiting Asian countries and ending up in prison on drug charges or other violations. But I had no drugs. What law could I have broken? Eventually I slumped over into a troubled sleep.

The clicking of the doorlock awakened me. Two men entered, dimly illuminated by the faint light of the Turkish dawn. They wore non-military clothes—tee shirts and jeans. The jeans fit them very tightly, outlining the well-muscled legs underneath.

“What did I do? Why am I here? Do you speak English?” I asked. These questions, plus other similar ones, elicited no answers from the two men, who looked a few years younger than me—probably in their mid twenties. They simply ignored what I said and walked around me, circling like animals stalking their prey. They did talk to each other, but of course in words not understandable to me.

Suddenly they seized my arms and backed me up against a wall. Each guy fastened one of my wrists to some kind of lock embedded in the brick, at head level. I couldn’t move. They continued to scrutinize my body, occasionally pointing to various parts of it—especially my crotch. I became scared as hell. One guy, the shorter of the two, at last walked up to me and brushed his hand across my chest hairs several times.

“What’s goin’ on?” I asked nervously. “If you guys want me in the army, don’t I have to sign up first?” I asked wryly, trying to calm myself.

The guy smiled and moved his hand to my pecs. He examined each for far too long a time. He flicked my nipples with a fingernail. Then he lowered the hand to my gut. He made a fist and held it against my abs.

“No! Don’t hit me!” I yelled.

They guy acted like he understood. He opened his fist and checked out my gut carefully. He probed and squeezed it lightly, as if looking for something. After that, the guy lowered his hand further, onto my brief. He put his fingers on my dick. Frightened and angry, I struggled to free my arms. But the useless attempt only made me more tired and frustrated. The dude spoke to his friend while he traced the shape of my longish dick-bulge through the soft cloth.

“Don’t do this!” I begged.

The guy remained focused on my meat, however—rubbing and feeling and pinching it for a long time. Once satisfied, he slid his hand down between my legs and took hold of my balls.

“No—please!” I protested.

The guy fingered my brief-covered ballsack endlessly. He inspected each testicle with a disturbing thoroughness, definitely doing more than the doctors did at my sports physicals. During this period, the guys engaged in a dialogue that I think concerned the size of my nuts. For the first time in my life, I dreaded having unusually large ones. Back home at the gym, I got accustomed to some envious stares in the shower room. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it. But this bothered me.

After a few minutes, the guy stepped back and the taller one took his place in front of me. He stripped off his tee to reveal spectacular washboard abs and huge biceps. Standing with his legs spread far apart, he put a hand around each of my testicles. The guy grinned at me, gloating over his possession of them. He started to massage the balls. I had never experienced such a sensation before, and it took some getting used to.

At last he stopped. I looked down to see him slide his thumbs inside the brief’s pouch and onto the tops of my nuts. He kept the other fingers outside, supporting the balls from underneath. The guy said something to his friend, or to me, and pushed his thumbs downward.

“No! No!” I shouted.

Although the pressure didn’t produce much pain, I wanted him to stop before it got any worse. He glared into my eyes and barked out words that probably meant, “shut up.”

He continued to push his thumbs further into my nuts, as if testing them to see how much they could take. The guy grinned and eased up for a moment, then pushed into them again. He did this quite a few times. At one point he stopped, grasped my brief and pulled it off me.

“No!” I pleaded once more.

He returned to my balls without delay. Now naked, they received additional thumb presses—more extensive ones. The guy didn’t hurt me, though. He seemed fascinated with my nuts and apparently got a lot of kicks out of just toying with them. Maybe he had never seen testicles as big as mine before.

Then he started handling my dick. He slapped it against my gut. I tried to twist my hands out of the metal restraints, but failed. The guy captured my balls again, one in each hand, and pulled down with considerable force. This time it did hurt.

“Ah!” I gasped.

He held my stretched-out sack in that abnormally low position forever, watching my dick and talking to me periodically. When he finally let go, I breathed a big sigh of relief. The guy unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them off. His penis stood straight up and twitched at me threateningly.

“Oh no! No!” I shouted, alarmed over the possibility of rape as well as torture from these guys. The tall one covered my mouth with his hand. When I kept shouting, he lowered the hand to my nutsack, made a fist and yelled at me gruffly.

“O.K! O.K!” I said, quieting down in the hope that he wouldn’t hit my balls. He didn’t, but he began to nudge them with the fist, then move on to light punches. Since my nuts hang quite low, the guy had fun making them swing backward and forward. Surprisingly, I felt little pain. He paused to finger my dick once more. Seeming annoyed, he took his own cock in hand and slapped mine with it.

The shorter guy spoke again. It sounded like he had called his friend by the name of “Mustaf.” Following a brief conversation, Mustaf spit saliva onto my dick. He wrapped his fingers around it and started to jack me off.

“Oh shit,” I muttered, realizing that the guys wanted my dick hard. “I’m not gay, fellas,” I explained, knowing they wouldn’t understand anyway. But they did seem to know—at least what the word “gay” meant. Unfortunately, they misunderstood the rest of what I’d said. Smiling, Mustaf repeated the word “gay” and pointed to his friend, to himself, then to me.

“No, not me,” I insisted.

He disregarded the statement and continued to work on my dick. I have to admit that he knew how to do it really well. I mused that I should hire him whenever I couldn’t get a date! This kind of fantasy frightened me, of course. Why did a thought like that cross my mind? Did it come from the stress of this bizarre situation? Or from the beginnings of insanity? My mind spinned. I felt sick.

Distracted by these and other disturbing questions, I failed to notice that the shorter guy had stripped naked and now stood beside Mustaf. Extremely well-built like his buddy, he pulled my ass away from the wall and caressed both of my buns. My girlfriends have all seemed attracted to my ass for some reason; maybe it looks better than I think it does. Anyway, whenever a person touches my butt, it feels very good to me. This action, together with the guy’s stimulation of my dick, caused the first twinge of pleasure to course through my body. I hardly noticed it, but Mustaf did. He alerted his buddy, calling him “Ali.” Before I knew it, Ali had pushed a saliva-slick finger into my asshole.

“Ah!” I yelled.

But his gentleness reassured me. The finger inspected my hole cautiously, then pleasured it with an assortment of moves I’d never though possible. My dick began to harden faster, an event that delighted both guys. Mustaf leaned forward and kissed me. I pretended to like it in order to keep him happy. My cock became happy as well—totally hard and definitely on its way to an orgasm.

I knew that fighting the urge wouldn’t help, just as fighting it hadn’t helped years earlier, when a high school buddy made me shoot while we wrestled in his bedroom. In fact, on that occasion, trying to hold back made me even more aroused. The orgasm embarrassed me greatly and I did a good job of burying the memory of it—until now.

Mustaf added more saliva to my excited shaft. Confident that he had me close to cuming, the guy let go of my cock. He pressed his body into mine and kissed me again. Then he started to rub my rod with his own tool. The feeling electrified me.

“Oh shit, yeah!” I gasped, as my butt tightened around Ali’s magic finger. When the juice exploded from my cockhead, Mustaf’s juice shot out also. We pumped cum all over each other, groaning in ecstasy. A few seconds later Mustaf turned to Ali and grabbed his buddy’s shaft. He squeezed incredibly hard. I’ve seen that kind of thing in locker rooms. But I’d never seen anything like the squeeze unleashed on Ali’s cock.

The guy yelled out and gripped Mustaf’s attacking hand. The tall muscleboy literally paralyzed Ali’s body with the hold. Without letting go of it, he slipped in back of his buddy like he planned to do a reverse bear hug. Instead, the guy bear hugged Ali’s shaft with both hands, doubling the hold’s power. I felt sorry for the little stud as he winced in pain from the effects of it.

Mustaf stood behind him in a wide, commanding stance, determined to make him suffer, not submit. The stud slowly sank to the floor on his knees, with Mustaf doing the same, as if glued to the kid’s back. In this position, the muscleboy really poured on the torture. Ali yelled in agony. I watched his cockhead turn red from the extreme pressure. Suddenly a huge blast of cum flew out of the hole. Then another and another. Writhing in pleasure, the stud continued to ejaculate, hurling enough sperm to fill the balls of three or four guys.

Mustaf bit and kissed the back of Ali’s neck while the cock unloaded itself, and after it had run out of juice. He released the rod and pulled Ali to the floor on his butt. Staying behind on his knees, the muscleboy hammerlocked his buddy’s left arm. He reached down Ali’s side, seized the stud’s cock with his right hand, and started squeezing it violently as before. Mustaf whispered in his ear while he worked the shaft into a second frenzy of pleasure.

Unable to move, Ali expressed what he felt in loud, deep grunts. I could almost see the cum building inside his balls, then rising up through his shaft. The explosion duplicated his first one in intensity. I couldn’t believe it. I also couldn’t believe my own cock, which had remained completely hard since I’d shot my load. Mustaf topped off Ali’s ecstasy by gently jacking his rod in appreciation and patting his buddy’s arm.

Presently Mustaf let Ali’s shoulders sink to the floor. He looked up at my cock and grinned. The muscleboy stepped in front of me, gripped my tool, and uncorked the same squeeze he’d used on Ali. I screamed and tried to dig my fingers into the stone wall behind me. Mustaf’s rod twitched as he gave it to my shaft.

At that moment somebody knocked on the door. Mustaf immediately released my cock and ran to investigate. He opened it a crack and let a guy in—I guess another friend. The two had a short, hushed talk, then Mustaf roused Ali. My attackers quickly put their clothes on and left. The third guy remained. He walked toward me.

“Stay back!” I said, fearing what he might do to me.

The dude stopped cold.

“Do you speak English?” I asked.

“Yes. Speak a little,” he replied.

The guy pulled an object out of his jeans and held it up to me. “Key,” he said with a smile. He spoke to me while unlocking my wrist restraints.

“I am Josef. I do not hurt you, Mike. I want you like me.”

“How do you know my name? Are you guys police, military?”

“No. We are friends. But I like it not what they want to do, so I stay away.”

“I’m not under arrest?”

“No arrest. We saw you in town and like how your body is. My friends want to take you here and….” He paused, then started again. “They have done this with other handsome American guys. They will come back. Look, I brought you some food.”

He put his arms around me. Suddenly every cell in my body became relaxed and excited at the same time. A hug never felt that good from anyone, ever. My arms automatically circled his narrow waist. I pulled him closer, absorbing his warmth, enveloping myself in it. The guy’s body not only felt good, it lookedgood to me also—well proportioned but not overly muscular, and crowned with a kind face and dark, sparkling eyes.

“I…I…I must go now,” said Josef in a whisper.

“Get me out of here!” I said. “Please get me out!”

He quickly disappeared through the door, which locked behind him. I struck my fists against the metal. “Josef! Please come back!” I fell to my knees, calling his name again and again. Although some sunlight tried to stream into the cramped room, I felt darkness closing in on me. I started to cry. After many minutes I attempted to regain my composure by eating the dried bread and meat left by Josef. Soon I became very sleepy. I wondered if I had imagined Josef’s visit. Maybe I had created him in my mind, a savior who would rescue me. Maybe the savior only amounted to a delusional fantasy. I drifted off to a sleep full of confused and grotesque images….

I awakened to see Mustaf and Ali beside me on their knees, naked. Mustaf pulled me to my feet. Both guys had erect cocks and their balls looked stiff as well. The tall muscleboy took me to the middle of the room, then began playing with my dick. At the same time, Ali’s hand went between my legs from behind and fondled my testicles.

I appreciated the tender handling, but it didn’t last long. When they disengaged, Ali moved away from my butt, while Mustaf remained in front of me. The muscleboy stepped back a little, spread his legs and crouched low. He opened his arms and beckoned me with his fingers like he wanted us to wrestle. I hadn’t done any wrestling for years, nor did I want to mess around naked with this strong, unpredictable dude. So I backed away from him. But Ali pushed me forward again. When I retreated a second time, Ali slammed a fist into the base of my neck, throwing me into Mustaf.

The muscleboy coiled his arms around my waist, picked me up and launched a big bear hug. The severity of the hold startled me. Almost immediately I had trouble breathing. I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to wrench myself out of his grip. That didn’t succeed. He widened his stance sand squeezed harder. I yelled, frozen in pain and fear.

Without warning, Mustaf dropped me. A second later Ali grabbed me from behind. He forced his fists into my gut as he applied his own version of the bear hug. The crushing hold hurt real bad. I shouted to him to stop, worried that the hold could injure me internally. But he kept squeezing the life out of me. I could feel his cock against my butt, getting harder and harder.

Mustaf extended a hand and gave my thigh a friendly, sympathetic slap. However, his hands then moved to my balls and seized them. He tightened his two-handed grip with a devilish smile. I screamed as one pain fought with another for supremacy. His fingers did more than crush: they seemed to drill right into my ‘nads. He savored every moment, knowing that he had the most private and vulnerable part of me all to himself.

My screaming didn’t deter him. I pounded my fists into his arms and into Ali’s. Ali retaliated by ending the bear hug and locking me in a vicious full nelson instead. With my arms now immobilized and my head forced down against my chest, I could do nothing except watch Mustaf work on my balls—and feel the results.

I could tell that he loved the size of them. His cock jerked as he tortured the testicles in different locations along their wide surfaces. Suddenly he hit a spot or did something that caused so much pain that I couldn’t even utter a gasp. My fingers fanned out and stiffened in panic. Mustaf looked at me with a sardonic grin that said, “Now I know what will hurt you the most.”

Luckily both guys let go of me at that point. I fell to the floor clutching my balls and moaning. Mustaf slapped my ass several times to make me get up—hard slaps. I turned on my back to escape more slapping. But then Ali jumped down across my chest and gripped my gut with his right hand. The fingers dug into it aggressively. I cried out as the claw took charge of my gut. A few seconds later he plunged his other hand into me, below the first, with a second claw. My dick rubbed against the fingers while they wrestled my sensitive lower abdomen.

Despite the agony, I could feel my dick hardening. In no time it became fully aroused. Mustaf got down on one knee beside me to admire it. He soon grasped the prize. Remarkably enough, he didn’t squeeze; he had something else in mind. The guy began to pull my shaft upward. The farther he pulled it, the more it opposed him. He smiled and kept increasing the pressure. Naturally, my cock didn’t have a chance in this freaky test-of-strength with the muscleboy. Yet it continued opposing him every inch of the way. Mustaf gradually forced my shaft down between my thighs, and finally onto the cool floor. Then he leaned into it as if trying to flatten the stiff rod with his fist.

If Mustaf and Ali had challenged each other to see who could terrify me the most, Mustaf would have won. I cried out for him to stop, but he didn’t understand me—or he did understand and kept demolishing my cock anyway. Still up on one knee, the guy seemed to crave it. His twitching rod left no doubt about that. Yet for some reason he abruptly released my cock, letting it snap forward and strike my gut with a loud slap.

Thankful to have it free of the pressure, and wanting to prevent another such assault, I summoned all my strength and threw Ali off me. Mustaf laughed as his buddy’s ass kissed the floor. The muscleboy’s eyes shined at me with a look of respect. They also conveyed a message that didn’t need an English translation: “Let’s you and I fight. I want your body!”

Maybe I could still escape, I thought, if I fought these guys and beat them at their game. I lunged into Mustaf. We locked arms as I pushed him backward. I tore one hand away from his grip and drove it into his ballsack. The guy bent forward and turned aside, instinctively protecting himself. I grabbed him around the neck from behind. Using both arms I applied a sleeper hold, trying to remember how the pro wrestlers did it on TV. I think I got it right. The hold began to weaken him, so I kept it on.

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about Ali. Coming up behind me, he re-applied his claws, this time into both of my armpits.

“Ah!” I cried, feeling his talons invade the sensitive hollows. The pain crippled me, but I knew I had to persist with the sleeper in order to get away. One of Mustaf’s hands slowly slipped off my arm. Ali worked his fingers deeper into the pits. I screamed as the pain climbed to intolerable levels. Letting go of Mustaf, I yelled out desperate submissions over and over.

Ali pushed me forward until my hands hit a wall. Leaving his fingers in my pits, but applying slightly less pressure, he held me there, in full control. The stud rubbed my ass with his cock. It felt extraordinarily hard. Then he maneuvered it between my buns. After a little more maneuvering, the stiff head found my fuckhole.

“No!” I shouted. “Not that!”

Ali spread his legs wide and gripped my armpits tighter. He began to nudge the hole.

“No! No!” I kept repeating, praying that he would stop.

But the guy pushed with increasing power until he forced my hole open. I gasped as the cockhead entered me. He gave my chest a few friendly slaps with a hand, then re-gripped the armpit. I felt his rod move up my ass slowly, but with steady, unyielding purpose. I whimpered in fear like a baby, while it reached deeper and deeper into me, conquering my body and my mind simultaneously.

Ali at last had his long cock fully inserted. He removed his fingers from the armpits, but immediately fastened them onto my protruding nipples. I yelped as he squeezed; the pain pierced them like needles. Then Ali started to fuck me. He made each thrust count, plowing into my ass methodically. I screeched in agony, unable to take any more torture. I shoved my hand back between the stud’s thighs and got hold of his nuts. I squeezed as hard as I could. He instantly screamed in anguish. I really crushed those suckers. And I kept doing it until Ali pulled out of me.

I let go and bolted for the door. Just as I reached it, Mustaf grabbed my foot and sent me toppling to the floor. He grasped my other foot as well, stood up and wishboned my legs. He kept separating them more and more, creating unbelievable pain. Trapped on my back, I held my crotch muscles as he stretched them to the extreme. The muscleboy loved hearing me react with cries of misery. He grinned every time he made me yell especially loud. And that he could do very easily, just by adding slight amounts of pressure to my radically split legs. I massaged my inner thighs, hoping to ease the pain. That didn’t help at all. I finally let my hands fall to the floor in defeat.

The hold went on and on. Mustaf spent a lot of time staring at my wide open crotch. His eyes feasted on my cock and nuts, particularly on the testicles. They looked more impressive than usual in my present position, towering above the groin like two golf balls.

Ali crawled over to his buddy and said something to him. Shortly afterward, Mustaf used my legs to flip me onto my chest. Keeping hold of them, he planted a foot at each of my sides. Then the bastard pulled my legs upward as he crouched toward my back. I felt my spine curving and stretching.

“No! Stop!” I cried, slamming my hands to the floor.

But the muscleboy gradually lowered himself until his butt touched my lower back, then sat down on it. Every time I’d seen a pro wrestler get an opponent in a Boston crab, it captured my attention completely. Now that Mustaf had me in the hold, I found out how helpless one feels and how painful it can become. I also felt totally exposed: the crab put my cock and balls on display, and prominently so. They hung there, heavy and accessible.

I heard Ali’s voice coming from a spot near my crotch. He had put himself in front of my suspended balls and cock, eager to take advantage of their optimum location. The stud gripped my shaft, aimed it toward him, and pulled. He used enough muscle to pull my whole body backward. Mustaf had to intensify the crab to keep himself balanced above me.

Thank god this brutal move didn’t last very long. But Ali saved the most severe stuff for my testicles—to pay me back for what I’d done to him earlier. One of his hands gripped the sack at my crotch and brought the testicles forward, stretching the ballskin taut. He reserved the other hand for punching. Holding my nuts in place for the striking hand insured that they would absorb the greatest possible impact.

They did. The first blow murdered me. When his fist smashed into my testicles, I thought they had exploded. I’ve never known such ruinous, nauseating pain. The stud waited before striking again, probably to enjoy the sound of my raucous screaming. His second blow hurt so much that I couldn’t scream. I heard Ali slide closer to my nuts to get at them from an even better position. He struck again, immediately forcing the air out of my lungs. My crotch burned like wildfire, spreading the pain to every part of my body. The stud grunted in satisfaction and plowed his fist into the ‘nads for a fourth time, then a fifth. I don’t remember any blows after that; I blacked out.

Ali may have continued to go after my balls much longer, because when I regained consciousness, they felt swollen and numb. The guys had turned me onto my back. Mustaf sat with each of his legs folded under my outstretched arms. His crotch propped my head up from behind. Although sunset had passed and not much light remained in the room, I could see Ali sitting between my legs, holding an object in his hands. It looked like a metal cylinder of some kind, at least two feet long and having a rounded end. He grinned as he smeared something on its surface.

Then the stud moved one end of the object toward my butt and pried my asscakes apart with it. He put it up to the butthole. Too weak to fight, I cried and begged and carried on like a madman. My distress did nothing to deter the guy. He started pushing on the cylinder and he soon had it inside my hole. His cock stood tall as he slowly forced it up my ass.

Mustaf plunged two fingers down my throat—maybe to turn himself on, or maybe to muffle my truly frightening cries. With darkness upon us, I could no longer see anything, just feel the massive violation of my butthole.

I heard the door open, then a thud. Mustaf collapsed to the floor. The weak beam of a flashlight suddenly illuminated Ali’s startled face. Ali fell backward. I heard him groan, but he didn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t see Josef, yet I felt his presence in the room. I tried to get up, but dizziness prevented it. My brain whirled. I groped for him in the black air….

I opened my eyes to a different room, softly lit by a single candle. I rested on a comfortable bed, with Josef lying beside me.

“Where….?” I blurted out.

“Don’t speak now,” said Josef quietly. “Rest. They hurt you much. We are safe here for now.”

I cuddled tightly against his body. He put an arm around me and kissed my shoulder. Despite my exhaustion, I felt my dick slowly harden.

“Did you carry me here?” I asked.

“Yes. Carry, a long way. To house of my sister, away from town.”

“Thank you,” I said. Tears started blur my vision.

Josef smiled. “It’s O.K.” He kissed me several more times.

“Why did you do all this for me?”

“Because….because… I want to be with you,” he whispered in my ear.

I held Josef close and brought my lips to his. The kiss astounded me. I wrapped
my arms around him and didn’t want to let go. Kissing another male for the first time instantly surpassed all the female kissing I’d ever experienced. We held each other for a long time, leaving no parts of our bodies unexplored.

“Tomorrow I will get you away from here….to go back home.” said Josef.

I held him closer. “Will those two try to find you?”

“Yes, they will come after me to punish.”

“Then come home with me!” I paused. “In fact, I demand that you come!”

Josef’s eyes brightened. Or had tears of joy made them sparkle more? “You want that? Then I will to stay with you, Mike. I will go.”

I kissed him again.

“Can I be your prisoner?” he asked with a boyish grin.

“You sure can, buddy,” I replied.

Josef lowered his head to my shaft and took it in his mouth.

“Oh god!” I grunted, feeling my cock swell and pulse with excitement. His tongue made the juice boil inside my crotch. “No more, man,” I groaned, “or I’ll cum!”

Josef patted my thigh to let me know that he wanted my cock to shoot. I laid my head back on the pillow and let the pleasure build. Josef quietly groaned in satisfaction as the shaft swelled to fill his entire mouth. I felt it pulse harder and harder. I gripped his body tightly and held on.

The candle began to flicker. At last it went out, leaving Josef and I alone together to make our own flames.

(end)