BDSM Library - Story: Taming the Beast, Chapter: Part 5

Taming the Beast 5

Emile 2010 - 2011

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When I came around, I was no longer in school. It took me a second to get my bearings - sprawled over the back seat of an SUV, a gym towel covering my crotch, hiding the worst of my embarrassment. Otherwise I was still buck naked, since Duane had taken my clothes. My hands had been slung behind the headrests, and at first I thought I'd been trussed up by another sicko, since I could feel cool air on my pec valley and and sweaty pits from the a/c, but then I realised I could move my arms freely. I looked down - the trophy on my nips had been removed, but the aureoles red and angry. Seeing me moving, and staring down at my chest, Jimbo called back from the front seat, where I could just see the shoulder of his football jersey and the hem of his girls skirt through the gap in the seats. "Sorry man if you're uncomfortable, we just figured you needed outta there! I didn't want to belt you in, I figured your chest looks ... sore." Though they'd removed the makeshift titclamp, I could still feel the football arseplug and oar sound grinding my arse and jabbing my bladder, and felt incredibly filthy and uncomfortable. I reached down to the towel to ease out the cock plug, but Jimbo caught the movement in the rear view mirror, and called out that we were 'about to drop Sally off, and then he'd take me home to get cleaned up.' I held on, gritting my teeth, too weak to even move my arms down from their makeshift brace. The car slowed and Sally gave Jimbo a peck on the cheek, glancing back not at my face, but at the inked skewered jock pig tattoo emblazoned across my heaving chest, eyes following the inked dong splitting caricature arse, resting on my naked pubic bone poking out from under the towel. "Uh, bye" she quickly muttered, jumping out in a flash. Jimbo pulled out of the kerb with a swerve, keen to get me away from her parents prying eyes - whether for his reputation or my sake, I was grateful. The fast moving car jerked the towel though, which slipped dangerously low, half hanging off my stalk, the root and a few inches of dickflesh clearly visible. I tried to lift my arm over the headrest to cover up, but the weight of my corded biceps was too much for my exhausted frame, and I reluctantly gave up, figuring it was dark enough in the back anyway. Still, I caught Jimbo glancing in the rear view mirror more than usual, but I was too worn out to react, and just slung my head back, eyes shut, blocking out the thought.

I don't know how Jimbo hauled me out of the car and into his house, let alone without his parents seeing, but when I woke up, the sun was streaming through the window, and I was in his bedroom on the spare mattress, like old times. I could hear a mower in the background, and realised it must be Saturday. My hunky body was covered in a sheet, and glancing up at the bed, I could see Jimbo curled up asleep facing me, still clothed. Maybe he didn't want to change in front of me, even unconscious, or maybe he was exhausted too from the effort, but I could still see white stains on his jeans from my load having shot over his leg, and the room was rank with my stench. I glanced down, sweat marks had made the sheet into a shroud of Turin - each pec and ab incised in dark sweat stains against the white linen. My dork must've dripped all night long, it was wet against the sheet - pushing out like an elbow - and my thighs were sticky. Embarrassed, I carefully got up, wrapping the sheet around me, and tiptoed into his ensuite, locking the door and taking a scalding hot shower, attempting to scrub the filth away. I grabbed his loofah and raked at the skin til it was pink and raw - every inch of me from my hooting dickflap that had gotten me in all this trouble, to my aching shoulders that had been hunched down by so many seedy guys. Finally I realised it'd probably been in there too long, turned off the faucet and stepped out, grabbing the nearest towel to dry off and wrap around my waist. The towel was small, but my waist was still tight despite my broad frame, so I covered myself over well enough. Still, it'd been inked into a man whore, so I carefully unlocked the door and ducked my tousled head around, only coming out when a bleary eyed Jimbo gave me the all clear.

It was just him and me in the room, a bodylength apart, and despite knowing he'd seen me like this before, in the harsh light of day I was humiliated all over again to have him see my inked beefed up body. His eyes looked at mine with a mixture of disbelief and anger, darting down occasionally at the filthy full chest tattoos. I went to speak and it broke the spell - he looked away, cheeks burning, rummaging around on the floor and throwing me the first tee and pants he could find. I held them dumbly and he looked up again, shaking his head, tears in his eyes. He came over and for the first time, I realised maybe he was on my side - he put his hand on my shoulder, shaking his head, and took the clothes back, saying "no mate, we need you looking decent, if we're gonna put this right!"

Slowly, Jimbo found a pair of boxers from Christmas he'd never worn - oversized and starchy, they were uncomfortable but refreshingly normal. Then he found some suit pants, a little small since he wasn't as beefy as me, but respectable, and a well tailored collared shirt that would hide all of my obscene tattoos. I buttoned it up tight, the buttons pulling at my barrel chest, but looking in the mirror, I was decent again, for the first time in ages, and it was my turn to nearly cry. He took me over to the desk, gave me a pen and paper, and told me to write down everything - like a statement. He said he didn't care how bad, I had to get it down, and we could speak to the police, the headmaster, whoever. He grabbed some stuff, jumped into the bathroom, and let me start writing as he showered.

It was cathartic, and I wrote it all down, every detail, no matter how embarrassing - my brothers, Mr Jones, everything. It was an indictment on the school, my family, everyone I knew - a sick cycle of sex, and seeing it in front of me, my body was racked with guilt and pain that I'd let it happen. As I wrote about the repeated rapes, my arsehole twitched with pain, and I felt a rush of humiliation that I'd allowed myself - a tough guy like me - get so easily fucked so many times over. By the end, I was crying as I wrote, and barely realised Jimbo had come out, and was standing behind me, until he put his hand on my shoulder, and told me it was alright.

He took the papers and read it slowly, my skin burning as he read page after page. Finally, when he finished, he was quiet, in shock. "Fuck man, I'm so sorry for you" he said. Coming from such a tough stud like him, I was almost overwhelmed. "Hey mate, don't break up now" he said "you're made of tougher stuff...". And somehow, together, we drafted and redrafted it until it just had the cold hard facts, statement for the police and the school board, ready made. He carefully put the original in his desk drawer, and we buried the drafts in the bottom of his bin, ready to go out and report it.

We went out in the harsh sun, and Jimbo's dad was on the lawn, watering. "Hey hey" he said to us, unaware of my turmoil, and for a second I was stricken that he might see the tats through my shirt in the sun. He didn't seem to, coming over and chatting a bit, to my discomfort, until Jimbo made excuses and we bailed into his car. He glanced once or twice at the exercise book he was carrying, asking something about a playbook for football, but we brushed him off, climbing in the car fast as we could. In the front seat, cleanly dressed, in daylight, I felt normal again. "Hey mate, lets go to the school board first. The police will wanna question you for hours! I know the Chairman, he's a decent guy, he'll listen to you..." I shrugged and agreed.

Well, Jimbo was right, but for one little detail. After we arrived, who should be coming down the hall, but Conrad, the all american jock that had ploughed my wife. He was on his way to their pool, from the sound of splashing in the distance - a tight red swimsuit hugging his generous package, and a white towel slung over his square pecs. Somehow, seeing him showing off his broad near-naked body made me even more ashamed of my degradation. "You didn't tell me the Chairman was Mr White" I hissed, fearing the worst, but Conrad barrelled up, all toothy grin and friendly, palled me on the back like an old friend, and shook Jimbo's hands, as if we were regulars dropping by the house. Jimbo started to explain we were here to see his father, and he shrugged amiably, pointing to the far door, before heading out to the pool.

We went in to the chairman's plush study, and after some awkward introductions, we sat there in uncomfortable silence while he read my testimony. After he finished, face betraying nothing of his emotions, he asked me to leave for a moment, so he could have a word with Jim. I went outside, leaning close to the door, but could barely make out anything as the thick carpets and hangings muffled the sounds. Once or twice Jimbo raised his voice, first angrily, then a wounded cry, and finally, they called me back in. As I stepped in and closed the door, I sensed that things had gone awry. Jimbo was still sitting facing away from the door, the chairman's hand on his shoulder, staring at me. "You were right to come to me first" he began "as I see it, there are two choices. One, you push your complaint, lots of people get in trouble, you get a name as the town fuck whore, and Jim here has to spend his last year in unspeakable agony, at the hands of men who make Mr Jones look like a boyhood crush. That wouldn't be very nice now, would it. Or, I could give you what you want - get you re-enrolled to finish school - I'll even fix it up with Jim's dad for you to live with them for the rest of the year - all forgiven and forgotten, no harm, no foul. Much better I think. Oh, yes, and you may just have to do a few favours for me, and some of the other staff, like Mr Jones..." I began backing out of the room, dread filling me. There were sounds of splashes - guys our age horsing around in the pool - and Mr White's frank demand seemed all the more perverse only a wall away from our former classmates, in their happy innocence. Seeing me backing toward the door, he said "Oh no, it's too late for that, you leave and Jimbo here will have to replace you I'm afraid. So what'll it be?" I was trapped. "So, how about you start by taking off those ludicrous clothes, and come and give you buddy here a big thank you kiss.. "

I was in shock, but I knew it was hopeless, even to think I could have changed things was too hopeful. Reluctantly, I shucked off the clothes, all too used to exposing my hunky body to view now. Worse yet, my dick twitched and thickened, I was getting trained into being a dickwhore, and it responded embarrassingly to my humiliation. I paced over, my now half mast tool thumping against my thighs as I walked. "Mmm, nice" the chairman remarked, guiding Jimbo to stand and face me as I approached. There were tears in his eyes, and the shock of seeing me naked, inked and boned up rippled across his miserable face. Desperate to get whatever this was over, I leaned in, guiding the back of Jimbo's innocent face towards me, and gave him a firm kiss on his soft lips. My dick twitched again, grazing his pants, leaving a smear of preslop on the pocket. "No, that won't do" the chairman said, hand still on Jim's shoulders, the other on the exposed small of my back, guiding me forward until we were inches apart, my thumper wedged against his polo shirt, leaking dickjuice. "Now I always find a kiss much more romantic when you wrap your arms around his head, you know, so those big boy guns of yours are right against his cheeks and you have to come up for breath at the end..." I leant in and complied, all too aware of my sweaty pits on his shoulders, his hot breath on mine, his sad face, and the chairman's hand on my back, slipping down towards my arsecrack. I kissed hard again, my chest tight against his, dick now spurting gobs of prefuck since the chairman had started kneading my arsecheek, prying at the hole. I could smell him and was embarrassed, but not as much as when he kissed back, slipping his tongue into my mouth probingly. I pulled back surprised, but the chairman bucked me forward with his grip on my mancunt. "Oh yes fuckboy, did JIm not mention to you the terrible boycrush he has on you. Maybe it's a phase, or hero worship or something, but it must be awful to know that you've just entangled your own stardazzled idol in your fuckhole of a life... believe me, I read it in his diary last Christmas - touching really - and I had no idea how to use it against him, until now... So, boys, how about another kiss for your dear uncle, and this time Jimbo, reach around and knead his hole, make him beg for a good hard pounding by his erstwhile friend..."

Jim broke away violently, wiping his lips on his sleeve with disgust. He was streaked with dickjuice, my sweat and his own, and he looked a mess, but he flailed wildly, shaking his head as if to wake himself up. "No, no, you can't, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, I'll do anything...."

"Ah, I thought you might" the chairman said. "Tell you what, let's see who is the most chivalrous then. You, cunt, why don't you wiggle that well fucked arse of yours onto my table here, into the doggie position you and Mr Jones clearly knew so well, and let Jim here have his freedom..." I climbed up, my stomach in knots, knowing I was whoring myself out to this guy with Jim watching, his eyes fixed on my heavy balls swinging between my spread legs. I felt humiliated. The chairman came around behind me, kneading my arse again, and began slipping two fingers in, insistently, getting ready to drill me. I winced and groaned, but my cock jerked and drooled. Suddenly, Jim fumbled with his pants and shirt, anxiously half undressing in front of us. "No, no, please, take me..." I heard the chairman snort, his hand still firmly working into my bunghole. With his free hand, he opened a drawer and reached in, emptying the contents onto the table between my parted thighs with a clatter. I scrunched my head against my pecs and looked down. There was a range of dildos, the smallest a thin pink realistic dong about the size of my prong - oversized but most dickwhores could take it easily, while the largest was a frightening black ribbed bulbous log, like a tree root or stylised arm. Jim now half naked in front of me, his own dick swinging in the breeze. The chairman fumbled around, grabbing the small dildo and throwing it at Jim. "Tell you what m'boy - you want to help, you got it. You can go scott free, and let me fistfuck this nice piece of arse here like a good boy. Or you can try this out for size, and I'll downgrade my efforts to this here dong. You want to try larger and you just holler, and I'll let him off even lighter. Got it?" Jim looked at the dildo in front of him with horror, realising the devils deal in its fullest. "You want me to... and he still... " There was a moment's silence, broken only by my involuntary cry as he twisted his fourth finger around to allow his thumb in my arse, emphasising his point. Jim scrambled for the dildo "Uh, okay, I um..." It was obvious the confused teen had never even seen a dildo before, let alone stuffed a large one, unprimed into his tender pucker. "Now it will be hard for you, taking your virginity like this" the chairman explained, slowly working his hand back out again, stretching my ring further. "so lie down on the floor, arse facing us here, and pull your legs up beside your head. Lean forward until you can see that precious flower, and begin working it in. You might want to suck it a bit, or spit on the rubber head, too, it's the only lube you'll get..." So, in excruciating near silence, the teen began slowly, painfully screwing the pink intruder into his hairy virgin trench, sucking air and panting with every millimeter. As he did so, the chairman unceremoniously pulled out with a pop, replaced his hand with the blunt head of the mega dong and began jamming it in, an inch for every millimeter of Jim's, so my own grunts matched his, and we stared into each other's eyes in silent shared pain. It was awful. "Come now boys, we haven't even gotten to the dildo fucking yet..."

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That night we both lay in Jimbo's narrow bed in agony. True to his word, the chairman had rang the Vice Principal and had me re-enrolled, barking the orders down the phone as he carelessly plunged the arse-splitting silicone canister into me. For the second call, to Jimbo's dad, he made Jim crawl under me on the desk, my drooling dong hovering over his face, legs up and spread so he could play with the smaller dildo as he spoke to his father in crisp warm tones about the 'need to oblige with some temporary accommodation'. Mentioning something about "returning the favour from 'nam", there was some undercurrent to the request that made us both feel a chill. When he'd finally fucked our holes to his satisfaction - until we were raw and aching and on the point of shooting our loads - we were finally allowed to dress and leave, but not before he gave us strict instructions. We were to remain together in each other's company at all times, unless he, Mr Jones or anyone else they said was their 'brotherhood'. From now on, we 'came as a set'. He wanted us to be 'real close' and 'get to know each other', so when we were alone or in private with them, we had to be buck naked, and the rest of the time, we should act like best buds - well pretty faggy best buds by his description - we had to be in physical contact all the time - 'skin to skin'. He didn't care if it was holding hands, or arms around shoulders, hand on dick or mouth to mouth, but if one of them caught us apart (in any sense), there'd be hell to pay. And on the 'getting to know you' side, each night, we had to switch on Jimbo's webcam, log on to a site he gave us, and lie on Jimbo's bed, slowly frigging each other and talking dirty for at least an hour before sleep. We weren't allowed to cum, cover up or even switch off the light or camera until morning. It was worse than ever!

The drive home was hard - both of us had ripped arseholes, and each jerk of the car was agony - plus I had my hand slung around his shoulder the whole time, while Jim gripped firmly to the wheel. We couldn't look each other in the eye, and despite being clothes, our naked bodies were burned into our eyes, and we felt the heat of each other between us.

I don't know what hold he had over Jimbo's dad, but the rest of the day and evening, his parents kept his distance, even before, dinner they suddenly decided to go out, leaving us alone to fend for ourselves. I'm not sure what was worse - getting used to constantly touching each other, especially knowing how he'd sold me out for his crush - or having to strip naked around the house once his parents left. We ate pretty quick when we realised that rule, and locked ourselves in the bedroom by 8pm. We decided to get the web show over with before his parents came back. Lying naked on the narrow bed, cocks in hand slowly jerking off was hard, especially with the look Jimbo gave me in his eyes - shame and lust - made worse by having to talk dirty too. The site had some kind of live feed, cause soon after we started, commands came crackling out of Jimbo's speakers - 'tug harder' - 'tongue him a while' - and really personal stuff, rating us like prize cows on our looks, body, package and technique. The only way to keep them quiet, they said, was to speak loud and hot, and fantasize explicitly. And after about half an hour, Jim's fantasies were pretty wild. As I pumped his slick wood in a corkscrew motion, he told me loud and filthy how he wanted to fuck me hard, and rape my face, and stretch me out again on the Chairman's table, I tried saying the same, but the unseen voyeurs howled at me, told me I was his pussy, and should keep to that. So as I bucked against his steely grip, flogging my hard porker so rough it felt the skin would peel back permanently, I had to moan for him to do me, use me, abuse me, and worst of all, he was really getting off on it. We were already close to shooting, and gritting out teeth to keep it in, when we heard the door slam in the background. We both went quiet, and the voices started up again, telling us to lock faces, and frig harder. Desperate to shut them up, we began to tonguefuck, breaking it off to (quietly) continue our trash talk, hoping it was loud enough for the webcam but still inaudible to the corridor outside. We heard nothing, and no-one came in, and finally, as our sweaty chests heaved against each other, and cocks drooled in unison, the computer pinged, and we saw our hour was up. But there was little sleep for either of us, in the harsh light of the room, with the camera blinking, and our stubborn pumped cocks bucking for release, there was small chance of relaxation.

Eventually we dozed fitfully, and my dreams were full of arse fucking and cock control, and I woke with a raging hard-on, still drooling over Jimbo's abs. We were both slick with sweat and each other's prefuck, and I slowly slipped my sore body from under Jimbo's arm, keen to wash the manstink off me before he woke up. As I walked past the computer, my fat thumper bobbing in front of me, I saw with horror that there was a series of instructions on the screen. After our show, the 'brotherhood' had compiled a list for our first day of school:

1. No showering until after gym

2. Clean up Jim's body hair.

Since he was the top, and I was the bottom (they said), it was only natural he kept some hair, and I remained boyishly smooth. But they wanted him to 'know his place'. So I had to get his razor and cream, and shave him down, leaving only 50 cunthairs above his prong, and 25 under each arm. Nothing else - no chest hair, legs or arms all had to be shaved smooth. They said they didn't care which '50 or 25' I chose - I could keep a strip to his navel or a little mustache - whatever we thought was 'pretty', but if they found more than that number, there'd be hell to pay. "Oh fuck" I mumbled, my cock spitting a clear drop of precum at the thought, "we're gonna have to AGREE to do this?" Once I was done, I was told to lick off the cream that the razor hadn't swiped away - cunthairs and all.

3. I had to find five or six rubber bands and wrap them around the base of my own glistening, smooth prick, to keep me nice and hard.

4. Sports clothes, no underwear. Jim had his lacrosse outfit, which was okay, except a bit tight around the legs, but I had to wear his junior school running gear - short shorts that wouldn't even pretend to hold in my package, and a threadbare singlet. This must've been Mr White's suggestion, I didn't even remember Jimbo running.

5. Make sure to have breakfast with Jimbo's parents, and to keep in touch with each other the whole time. While his mom was out of the room, and his father reading the paper, we had to give each other a nice long sloppy kiss.

6. Before we left, I had to find a tube of something nasty - icy hot if they had any, but any glistening sticky cream would do if not - and smear it on my nipples, just under the straps. If my nips itched at any time in the day, I was allowed to scratch them, but only lightly through the material, so the cream stayed put. Also I should take my time scratching them, cause once I'd taken my fingers away, I wasn't allowed to touch that nip again for half an hour. (Oh man, I thought, they want me to itch in agony and then humiliate myself playing with my own pecs!) Of course Jimbo could scratch them whenever he wanted, but if he did, he had to pinch them hard (if on the skin), or else keep touching me with his other hand (skin to skin) if not.

7. Jim's cock "didn't have to be tied", but I had to fingerfuck him for a couple of minutes just before we left the house. They made special mention that I was 'allowed' to suck my finger clean.

8. No driving to school, we had to catch the short bus. The whole way, we had to rub each other's dorks through the fabric, to make sure we were hard (fuck, I thought, better hope we can get the back seat!)

9. We had to give each other another sloppy kiss when we pulled into the school lot, before getting off.

10. When we got to school, we were to report directly to Mr Jones' office.

I doubled back and picked up the singlet they'd specified, hauling it over my grungy body. The shoulder straps did nothing to hide the JOCKPIG tattoo, and I knew we were in for some trouble. Jimbo was angry at the commands, but complied, even when we had to kiss at breakfast. Even with his father only inches away, the fucker still managed to slip me tongue as we briefly mashed faces over cornflakes. But it didn't get easier, and getting on the bus was agony. We waited with Jimbo's hand on my shoulder, casual like, but his touch burned on my skin. My nips burned like crazy, and having kneeded them for like 15 minutes at the bus stop, the minute I withdrew my fingers when the bus approached, they began searing again. Both of us had embarrassing hard-ons which the gear did little to hide, and I could see Jim's plum head straining against his pants and it just made my dick leak more. I was worried how much drool could pout out of my dicklips before it soaked through. When we got on, Jimbo slipped his hand back to the small of my back - under the shirt - because we were single file, and while it was innocent enough, we got plenty of looks and a few catcalls. Fortunately, the back seat was mostly empty, and so we squeezed into the middle, letting out hands brush against each other.

The next stop was a surprise - Conrad and his jock mates barrelled on, and he strode up the aisle. "Oh man" he said loud "I'm packing heat", squeezing his ample package for emphasis. He planting himself between us on the back seat, and two of his friends pushed out the two guys either side of us, while the other two grabbed the two seats on the aisle in front. We were surrounded by them now, just out of most people's view. We were pushed up against his buddies, and as he slung his arms over our shoulders, we realised we needed to reciprocate if we wanted to keep touching each other's skin, something Conrad would surely report to his father. Sweat dripped from his armpits onto our shoulders, and when he spread his legs, there was a ripe funk, like he'd been beating off before he got on. He pulled me in tighter, smearing sweat on my neck, so he could dangle his arm over my pec, and idly brush my titflesh with his fingers. The effect was electric on my tortured nub. He leaned in, his breath on my neck "Oh boy fuckface, this is gonna be fun..." Meanwhile, the jock buds either side of us, shooting the shit about cheerleaders and parties, silently guided our far legs over their thighs, forcing our legs apart unseen behind the back row. In unison they held our free arms, palms over our hands, and pushed their big paws up our legs, pushing up the fabric and wrapping our hands around our ballbags in a squirrel grip. Talking casually, they squeezed hard, forcing us to choke our own nuts and bring tears to our eyes. The guys in the aisle leaned over the seat backs, as if getting into the conversation, but using their beefy dangling arms to jab and prod our hard stalks as they talked.