Weekend in Hellhouse
From: “flexhold” <Flexhold@a…> (hismusclesache)
Readers: I’m submitting a story I wrote a few years ago with mixed reviews. I must warn you though no harsher than most stories, Weekend in Hellhouse deals with family slavery; a family devoted to their stepson as the family slave. It is a bit of “cinderfella” taken to the extreme.
Jimmy is an 18 year old wetdream of magnificent good looks and a body that utterly draws attention. The narrator is a few years younger and hopelessly captivated by Jimmy and Jimmy’s sadist family.
Weekend in Hell House
The Deep South (Circa 1950’s)
I’m actually trembling as I approach the door, an eruption of nerves super-charged in the excitement of arousal; the intensely passionate intoxication of newly discovered adolescent sexuality. For you see, I am totally captivated not only by a very certain young man but also by what I quickly realize as a breathtaking yet disturbingly lurid melodrama.
The first time I laid eyes on him it was, as they say of deer blinded by on-coming headlights. A beguiling seduction doomed to damnation. Jimmy’s big amber eyes betrayed an uncommon innocence, some might say “just plain dumb,” but also a forlorn plea, begging for approval. And something fraught with doom in the penetrating hard stare of desperation branded into the boy’s beguiling brow.
Running almost full force down the pot-holed lane, strewn with puddles, the unhurried school bus passed him by. Where the road narrowed we nearly collided with the young studly athlete clad in well-worn trousers, ragged sneakers, and a glued to the body sweat-soaked T-shirt. Barely slowing his pace while agilely adjusting his footing, the young ‘Tarzan’ superbly maneuvered aside, but not before glancing up into my window. Those soulful eyes betrayed fear though certainly not of the bus. No, Jimmy’s fear was something else, something compelling him to run, to run full speed yet to run towards. At that moment his cold-sweat terror became my drug.
I immediately had to know who he was. I am new here, you see. My parents and I only just moved into this rather small, mostly poor and remote southern town. The railroad lines closed years ago and, unlike my family, most folks are pretty hard up. I don’t flaunt that I have money unless it gets me what I desperately want and at that moment I desperately wanted to know about that boy. $5 to the kid sitting next to me provided some answers.
Jimmy is several years older than me and nearly out of high school. He holds all of the school records for most sit-ups, push-ups, pull- ups, and stuff like that. And I can see why. I am a total sucker for guys who are really muscular and Jimmy is really, really muscular. His clothes do nothing to conceal his amazing physique; super-wide shoulders, impossibly narrow waist, veins and sinew everywhere for the eye to behold. Tall, tan, sandy hair, chiseled features, a dazzling beaut of a buff buck-boy god only dreams are made of. I can tell by what the guy is blurting out that all the boys in school think Jimmy is the “strongest kid in town.” But why is he running? All my companion could do was shrug his shoulders; “his mean old man is like some cold-blooded maniac drill sergeant, crazy off the wall strict with Jimmy.”
Matt doesn’t look anything like his older brother. Where Jimmy is tall and lithe, Matt is short and stout. Jimmy’s drop-dead good looks and superb athleticism contrast with Matt’s average appearance and ability. Strangely though, Matt wears relatively good clothes, nothing fancy, but the attire teens need to be considered cool. Jimmy’s clothes, on the other hand, are a laugh. It’s rumored that his T-shirt is a hand-me-down from his kid brother Matt! Torn under the armpits, it’s so tight across his broad shoulders that sleeves don’t even exist. So small for his long tapered-torso, several inches of hard flesh surrounding a flat, sexy belly button are always on display. The low hanging trousers are another story altogether. First off, they’re work pants that common laborers wear, patched in several places, the fabric worn and threadbare, they look years old! Quite loose around Jimmy’s mere 27-inch waist the material seductively hugs his groin only to go baggy again down sturdy legs. The way those breeches breathlessly sag, hanging low, causes one to stagger in amazement. The pendulous outline of Jimmy’s basket, laid bare, under tattered britches is a guaranteed deep-mouthed orgasmic wonder. That’s the last thing the kid uttered in a breathy whisper, “they say, he’s hung like a work horse!” My compulsion for Jimmy is mounting by the second. That’s how his brother, Matt, enters the picture.
Matt and I are in the same grade, in fact in many of the same classes, but that’s where all similarities end. You see, I’m not the type of person Matt would normally associate with. Maybe it’s because I am small for my age [though Matt is no giant]. I’m also kind of effeminate, not overtly gay, but the type of kid that has a hard time hiding his attraction for other guys, especially the super jocks. I am also not all that coordinated. I am, however, fairly bright, and generally able to talk my way into getting what I want. If that doesn’t work, money does.
Matt was a pushover or perhaps it was just a matter of negotiation. I had the money. Matt could get me up-close to Jimmy and care less about me or Jimmy once the cash was in hand.
$50 bought me an entire weekend.
Matt’s house is pretty much what I expected, an old, downscale two-story farmstead well beyond the outskirts of town. Surrounded by open fields, the nearest broken-down shanties all boarded up and long abandoned on the dead-end road to the old county graveyard. His parents are in the small smoked filled living room drinking beer and watching TV, they hardly pay me notice, the smell of TV dinners heating up in the kitchen. Quickly Matt heads upstairs to stash his cash and play records. He merely motions me towards a door off the kitchen. As I approach I hear the sound of deep breathing and the loud clang of barbells. Jimmy is exercising in the basement. The very sound of him stirs my desire. As I reach the other side of the remarkably immaculate kitchen something catches my eye.
Hanging prominently on a hook next to the deadbolt locked basement door is a well-worn black dog whip, several feet in length. The hide handle narrows down to polished braided leather ending where two 8-inch thin rawhide stripes are secured. The quirt just exudes domination. Trembling, I stroke the scourge ecstatic over having gain entrance into this masterdom. Tortuous grunts and groans, a depraved serenade as Jimmy toils away beneath me.
Glancing over I notice on the kitchen wall a conspicuously displayed typed document that as I begin to read causes my heart to flutter in suspense.
Morning chores: Chop wood [I later find out that tree stumps are regularly delivered; Jimmy chops them into kindling as extra income for the family], fieldwork [acres of vegetables and orchards that Jimmy tends daily].
6:00AM Make breakfast for family
6:30AM Wake family
Clean bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen
7:30AM Run to school [the high school is 3 miles from Jimmy’s house]
2:30PM School’s out – run home
3:00PM Afternoon Chores: Fieldwork. Extra Chore: This Week: Clean-out septic tank 5:45PM Wash-up [I’ve since discovered that Jimmy “showers” in the basement. A hose from outside has been set up in the corner for that purpose. Cold water and a little soap is all a “growing boy needs” according to his mother, yet Matt uses the upstairs bathroom. Jimmy is forbidden to use the bathroom unless showering with his parents. Those sessions usually concentrate on his genital hygiene].
6:30PM Evening Chores: Clean kitchen, living room, do laundry 7:30PM Lift Weights [I later learn that the basement is loaded with heavy weights, a crude bench and pull-up bar. Jimmy follows his father’s exhaustive workout instructions focusing on all his powerful muscles with nights entirely devoted to posing with his father closely supervising as Jimmy flexes his muscles nude. Sundays are a special day on “the mats” where his father uses Jimmy for new wrestling holds that he’s perfecting. Laziness is not tolerated and is dealt with by way of the “Encourager”, a cattle prod that his father liberally applies to tits and testicles].
9:00PM Go to bed
Morning chores: Chop wood, fieldwork, wash car.
7:00AM Make breakfast for family
7:30AM Wake family
Clean bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen
8:30AM (Saturday) Mow cemetery [Jimmy has 9 backbreaking hours to mow the endless acres of the nearby graveyard each Saturday as extra income for the family. He pushes the hand mower without stop except for three 15-minute breaks. His parents, quirt in hand, rotate supervision, making sure Jimmy maintains a steady pace all day]. 8:30AM (Sunday) Dad’s Special Assignment: This Month: rock quarry [Jimmy’s stepfather supervises stepboy’s labor at the “Pit” as Jimmy hauls heavy stones, swings a sledgehammer, and shovels the gravel into sand bags as extra income for the family].
5:30PM Return home
6:30PM Evening chores: Clean kitchen, living room, do laundry
7:30PM Lift Weights/Pose muscles
9:00PM Go to bed
Oversleeping: Whipping with belt (one lash for each minute), sleep on floor for one week Taking a nap: Whipping with belt (10 lashes), extra chores, sleep on floor for one week Using bathroom without permission: Whipping with razor strap (10 lashes), no dinner, must urinate/defecate outside for one week Eating without permission: Whipping with quirt (10 lashes), no breakfast and dinner, Tabasco on tongue daily for a week Lying: Double whipping with quirt and razor strap (10 lashes each), no dinner, gargle with detergent x 2 daily for one week Stealing: Double whipping with quirt and razor strap (10 lashes each) caning to hands (10 lashes each), hung by thumbs for one hour from rope in living room, restricted to basement for one week. Talking back: Whipping with belt (10 lashes), bar of soap in mouth for one hour Chores not did properly: Done over immediately. Whipping with belt (10 lashes), extra chores for one week.
Not doing all chores: Whipping with belt (10 lashes), extra chores for 2 weeks, no dinner.
Tardiness: Whipping with belt (one lash for every minute late), no dinner Disrespect to parents or brother: Whipping with razor strap (10 lashes) 5 clothespins on tongue for one hour. Not listening to orders: Whipping with belt (10 lashes), 5 clothespins on each ear for one hour [I was to later discover that these are very old heavy-duty wooden pins once used in hospitals to hang heavy wet blankets; they have extra-sharpened serrated teeth]. Not exercising hard enough: Whipping with belt (10 lashes) while tied to pull-up bar, repeat all exercises with increased weight, a clothespin on each tit for one hour.
Disobedience: Double whipping with razor strap and quirt (10 lashes), 5 clothespins on each ear and 5 on tongue for one hour. Masturbation: Double whipping with razor strap and quirt (10 lashes each), 10 clothespins applied to penis, 5 clothespins to each testicle for one hour.
Poor attitude: Double whipping with razor strap and quirt (10 lashes each), placed in “Attitude Adjustment” for 2 hours [I was later to discover that the small dog cage in the living room is used for this purpose. Jimmy has to contort into a total fetal position with only his head sticking out. The cage is then placed upright so that his parents can repeatedly slap his face].
Never Permitted: Absolutely never allowed use of telephone, TV, radio. Penalty:
Session with Field Telephone [I was later to find this device prominently displayed atop the TV in the living room. Matt pointed out that whipping Jimmy wasn’t too effective when it came to his sneaking into the living room to watch TV or use the phone. So on his birthday he was given his own phone. Little did he know what kind of phone it was until his parents demonstrated it on him. Jimmy has never broken this rule ever again as he well recalls the electrodes attached to his tits, lips, ears and, of-course, penis. His parents took turns manning the hand crank as electricity surged through his young, firmly muscled body inflicting painful involuntary spasms as Jimmy promised over and over again through his sobs to never use the phone or watch TV ever again, and he hasn’t]. Never Permitted: Touching anything that belongs to Matt: record player, TV, 12-speed bike, radio, camera, all clothes and hair products. Penalty: Hand Whipping [Hands, palms down, placed on table, fingers spread wide as possible, then whipped with razor strap, belt or cane; number of lashes to be decided by Matt]. Never Permitted: Entering living room without permission except to clean it daily. Absolutely never allowed to sit on living room furniture. Penalty:
Suddenly the stove timer goes off and I nearly jump out of my socks. My heart trip hammers a deafening pounding in my ears while my cock throbs in my pants, a visible wet circle that I hastily cover with my shirt. I am shocked by what I have just read. The rules, the punishments, the whips; its like Jimmy lives in the worse reformatory that exists. He is worked and whipped like an animal! Yet he is a most beautiful specimen of young manhood. I am heaving in turmoil.
Matt and his parents enter the kitchen and the food is brought to the table. There are three good chairs and one old stool around the small table. Matt’s father waves me aside for a moment as he goes over to unlock the basement door. “Boy.”
Jimmy is allowed to enter the house. The sight of him up close is a rush of intoxication, especially as I lay eyes on what he’s wearing, or, better yet, what he isn’t wearing.
Jimmy’s clothes, or uniform, barely attempt to cover his magnificent body. [His school clothes or “good clothes” are taken off at soon as he arrives home each day and are only to be worn for school since they have to last him a year]. It appears that what he is allowed to wear while at home is intentionally designed to humiliate him since the rag barely conceals his privates. The cut-off jeans are so old; in fact they were old on Jimmy’s 12th birthday [the usual Goodwill clothes he receives as his gift] and by now are very ragged and so very tight that they fit him more like briefs. Jimmy’s mother “accidentally” cut the pants too short so that no matter how hard Jimmy tries the head of his cock and a testicle or two slips out. [Whenever he leaves the house to work and “walk among decent people”, as his mother puts it, Jimmy must wear a special “jockstrap” she’s devised for him. Actually it’s nothing more than two bits of rawhide cord with an adjustable noose on the ends. One leather noose is looped around his cockhead, pulled quite tight; the others encircle each boyball and are also cinched back so that his subjugated genitals are painfully pulled in opposite directions with the rawhide stripes tethered tightly behind him. There’s no way that Jimmy can untie the intricate knot without his mother discovering it. It’s bizarre on Saturdays when Jimmy cuts the cemetery lawn. His long flaccid penis and extremely low-hanging testicles are painfully stretched apart so that his cockhead actually angles around narrow hip. Wrenched in this wretched yoke, individually bound balls, separately ensnared, strung out flat against hard groin. Any movement becomes agony in this outlandish sexual straitjacket, especially as Jimmy pushes the hand mower all day. Learning to pee took ingenuity, but his mother told him that it was his own fault for being “half-animal” and that a “harness” was what he deserved].
The cut-offs also hang so low on his extremely slender hips that most of his pubic patch is exposed [Jimmy hates it when his father literally is ‘in your face’, ordering Jimmy to stand up straight, “on your toes, mister” plucking pubs out by their roots]. Jimmy’s only other garment is a tank top that has seen better days. Extremely tight and much too small for his powerful frame, the material is almost sheer over Jimmy’s wide deeply cut pectoral muscles; tattered with holes leaving both sliver-dollar sized tits tantalizingly exposed.
Barefoot, Jimmy treads into the kitchen head down. “Fetch my easy chair, boy.” With the ease that comes with obvious strength, Jimmy carries an old, unmistakably heavy armchair from the living room into the kitchen, but is confused where to put it. The weight of the chair graphically displayed in the network of pulsating veins down brawny forearms, strong biceps shiver slightly. Jimmy quickly glances up at his father. “Well, duh, hello”, the middle-aged man smirks, hammering the demigod in the forehead several times as if knocking on a door. Everyone around the table snickers while Jimmy endures the strain. “Put the chair down, dumbbell. Now, give Matt’s friend here my kitchen chair so that we can eat sometime this year”, his father laughs and says to me, “you’ll have to understand that bonerhead ain’t good for nothing but his muscles. He don’t have a lot upstairs, right, donkey dong,” a look of disgust as he notices Jimmy’s genitals have now slipped out even more, hanging heavy, out from under his ridiculously inadequate cut-offs. Jimmy nervously attempts to adjust his bulging equipment, quickly takes his stool and subserviently sits down right between his father and me at the crowded table.
I am filled with the aphrodisiac of Jimmy’s malehood pheromones; the aroma of this young buck permeates the room, only further igniting all my senses in passion.
“Hey dumbellboy, anybody tell you that you’re one stinking piece of foul-boy flesh?” exclaims his father, again cracking up everyone at the table. “Matt tries to dignify us with his new friend, here, and you come in stinking like a gym floor, huh dumbo? Lift em’ up, time for inspection, musclehead”, he orders as Jimmy thrusts his brawny arms up over his head [a hard-and-fast routine I suspect is performed everyday by the way Jimmy impulsively obeys]. Now Jimmy’s deep delicious golden-haired armpits are on display as his arching ribcage and lat muscles spread out lasciviously. Not sure what his father is up to as he leans in up-close like he’s sniffing those pungent pits but then abruptly tugs on two attached rubber bands, one of which is wrapped around his right wrist. Jimmy braces himself for what he knows is coming. The sharp snap of the tautly stretched rubber bands smacks him square in his left armpit, and, once again, Matt, his mother and father break out in ill-humored cheer as Jimmy winces. “Say hello to Matt’s new school mate”.
Jimmy faces me, offers his hand. His puppy-dog eyes have that familiar look of desperation. A man-size, husky hand firmly clutches mine and then grips even harder as his father increases the tension on the wicked elastic slingshot; a shrill whack against Jimmy’s traumatized left tit. “Bulls eye”, Matt snorts as Jimmy flinches again, his powerful chest expanding as he gulps air. I am trembling in this surreal experience consumed in my hero’s suffering, overpowered as he holds fast to my love struck hand.
Finally his cruel father relents, but I sense only momentarily, and I am right.
“Jimmy was talking to Jennifer on the way home from school today”, Matt reports with glee.
Jimmy immediately stutters with confusion, “ I . . .I . . .I . .was Öo . . o .. o .. .only talking for a minute, I . . swear” and impulsively begins to woof down his dinner.
Swiftly his mother reaches over and take’s possession of Jimmy’s food grabbing the plate away.
“Stubborn boy! When will you learn to behave? You know you work after school”, his mother yells. “Instead, you prefer to waste time talking when there’s hard labor to be done. Well, we’ll see how you like talking tonight. Matt, go get the clothespins and Tabasco. Your highfalutin big brother here needs to be taught a hard lesson in obedience again”.
Matt is grinning from ear to ear as Jimmy, his face a portrait in dreadful resignation, stands up and approaches his mother. Quite a bit taller than her, he kneels down. Jimmy seems to know exactly what to do as the bizarre scene unfolds before me. With his quivering tongue extended his mother proceeds to clamp 5 large and very sharp wooden clothespins onto the sensitive organ. Jimmy squirms in total discomfort as the saw-teeth pins painfully bite down into his tongue. His agony is only just starting, however, as she pours the stinging Tabasco sauce liberally over his tongue, making sure to cover its entire surface. With the crushing pincer gag Jimmy can’t close his mouth, his moans signifying the burning fluid.
“Starting Monday your afternoon chores will be doubled. Instead of 3:00PM, you will be home by 2:45PM. Don’t even dare give us any of your lip about the three miles you must run. Of course, you already know for every minute late you earn a lash from the whip. That will keep you from showing off your big muscleboy body to the girls”.
“Speaking of your body. It’s time for your whipping, bigboy”, his father announces.
I can tell you that my heart is beating nearly out of control. I haven’t even been here an hour and am already experiencing an intense scene as the very guy I am enthralled with is being humiliated right in front of me.
Slowly Jimmy gets up off his knees, the look of misery across his handsome face reveals he is well- conditioned to being habitually punished, but now is mortified of something else. I sense a drama unfolding. A perverted play that this family acts out over and over again day in and day out with Jimmy as the main character, the perpetual victim, the unwilling, yet always available sufferer. Never quite understanding that whatever he does it will never be enough to appease the sadistic desires of his father and mother and even his own brother. Every day only gets worse.
To Jimmy it doesn’t seem like it can get any worse as he nervously looks over at me, dreading that all the kids in school will hear of this come Monday. He knows what to do but hesitates; the clothespins prevent what he wants to plead, begging that his punishment be administered in the basement.
Suddenly his father stands up, grabs Jimmy by the hair pulling him over to where THE RULES are posted.
“Tell us, boy, what THE RULES say you have well-earned for your disobedience?” he cross-examines with a snicker.
“Sir, a whipping Sir” Jimmy responds fearfully; quivering before his cruel father, the clothespins causing him to mumble his words to the delight of his brother and mother who titter in laughter.
“Yes, but how many lashes will you receive?” his unyielding father presses, a sardonic grin on his face, as he first mentally abuses poor Jimmy. Excitement mounts in the interrogation foreplay. Jimmy appears less bewildered than just unwilling to pronounce his own sentence, his eyes darting over at me as panic sets in.
Swiftly his cruel father snatches the black leather quirt off the hook, brandishes it front of Jimmy, raising it up and snapping it loudly in the air.
“20 lashes, boy. You have coming 20 hard lashes from this whip. This will break you of your defiance, hoodlum boy. Yes, the whip is the only thing you understand, you big bastard boy”.
Looking up directly into Jimmy’s eyes, he lowers the quirt so that the twin tails of fury slowly trace a path down along the nervous boy’s well-muscled stomach swirling the whip against the tight material that barely conceals Jimmy’s genitals.
All eyes are on Jimmy as he slowly removes his skimpy tank top and carefully folds the rag. The expanse of tawny torso is even more alluring than what I imagined. A strapping angular build, taut yet supple and smooth, hairless except for tufts of glossy amber-colored armpit curls, a golden physique of highly sculpted muscles under near translucent skin. Not an ounce of fat on this ‘one in a million’ body of honed masculine perfection. Jimmy hesitates for just a second before unbuttoning his cut-off shorts.
Total silence envelopes the room as Jimmy pulls the tattered loincloth from his lithe body, gracefully steps out of them, ‘at attention’ he stands before us. My audible gasp brings chuckles from Matt and his family, but Jimmy can only stare ahead beet red in embarrassment. When I heard that Jimmy was hung I had no idea that I would be seeing a flaccid, but thick 7 inch uncut cock, topped with silky pubic growth and hanging out over a pair of extremely low hanging balls easily the size of goose eggs. Not being much of an expert, it is, nonetheless the most beautiful display of ravishing manhood I have ever laid eyes on. The size of Jimmy’s endowment amazing in contrast to his incredibly slim hips, high melons of voluptuous boybutt poised above sturdy young thighs. My own cock urgently presses against my pant’s leg as I gape, entranced by the devastating spectacle of this young man-god.
Aroused, the mean man ceremoniously slices the thick air with the quirt, loosens up his whip arm. The electricity in the room is explosive as the whip whistles its frightful intent. All of us are staring at Jimmy as he waits, for the next in his never-ending whippings. Already breathing heavily, deeply etched abdominal muscles undulate as the all too familiar waves of fear grip him. Standing not even 4 feet from me, I am about to witness corporate punishment of the most beautiful specimen of teenage muscle hunk.
“Repeat after me, ‘I am a bad boy who deserves to be severely punished”
The first blow is dead center as his master raises the quirt high overhead laying it on with a powerful blow. The split thongs of leather slice right down the middle, digging deep into Jimmy’s asscrack, a lightning bolt running its full length.
Jimmy moans in agony and mumbles his sentence, bracing himself for the heavy blows that always follow as the long, slow ordeal is intentionally drawn out. Each lash of the wicked quirt, securely looped around his father’s wrist, arches high in the air then falls with a sickening crack against the smooth firm outrageously seductive
Often the twin thongs of stinging leather wildly splay the smooth burning ass cheeks that flex in agony as the rawhide thunderclaps fan out across jerking hips, falling dangerously close to his vulnerable testicles. Jimmy keeps his arms out a bit, fists clenched, a silent scream as his head rotates in anguish.
“Sir, . . . I am . . oh . .a bad boy . . oh please . . .who deserves . . . to be . . .please . . . no more . . a bad boy . . . deserves . . .punish severely . . .deserves . . . I . . . am . . .to be . . . severely punished . . .Sir”.
By the eighth blow Jimmy is already winded, perspiration drips down his face and over heaving pectorals, filling the kitchen in the sexual fragrance of an endorphin high. It takes him longer to repeat his sentence without forgetting the words, but it doesn’t matter. His father waits till he gets it right before proceeding. Once, after a particularly painful lash, Jimmy covered his succulent firm butt buns in his hands, but didn’t make that mistake again. His father made him lay his man hands, knuckles up, out on the table and whacked each skeletal digit, inch by inch of big-boned widely spread fingers. Concentrating on each swollen knuckle, a fanatic madman wielding his thick belt.
He’s truly a sadist, Jimmy’s ‘old man’, smiling the entire time, yet seething in fury. While harshly kneading Jimmy’s inflamed arse, he grills the delirious young stud, “how does the whip feel, badboy, you hurting some”? And then looking him square in the eyes taunts how the next lash will be even harder and more painful while shaking the whip in the handsome boy’s tear streaked face. The haughty man throws the full weight of his flabby middle-aged body into each blow. Monstrously out of control and totally in control all at the same time, a fiend hell-bent on breaking this brave and defiant buck bastard.
The relentless punishment has been going on for over 15 minutes now and I am pumping precum in my pants every time the hideous whip lashes Jimmy’s welt-covered ass; the loud crack of the quirt against his hard bubble butt is like some sort of hypnotic spell. I am mesmerized by what is happening and as I look around I can see that Matt and his mother are totally engrossed as well. Jimmy’s mouthwatering cock wildly jumps up and out each time the braided scourge connects with his ass, a swinging jerk-like hip motion that hurls his huge balls in their low hanging sack and bangs them against well-muscled thighs. In tears, Jimmy manages not to scream, but only to loudly groan in agony as he repeats his sentence and prays that his punishment will finally end. And after 25 blows it does stop. [Jimmy received an extra 5 lashes for covering his butt with his hands. His father told him that since he was trying so hard to hide his ass during his whipping that maybe it needed his closer attention by ordering Jimmy to bend over and grab his toes. With perfectly straight legs Jimmy endured the last and hardest lashes of his punishment to his succulent, smooth young ass. His father aimed the quirt deep into the exposed asscrack with military precision; a staccato of hard-hitting blows, rapid-fire, nearly knocking Jimmy off balance as he cried out in pain, once again, enduring the near daily dose of THE RULES].
Jimmy is the picture of misery. His magnificent butt crisscrossed with razor-thin welts. An aromatic sheen of manly sweat covers his sensual body as he attempts to catch his breath and stop his sobs. Casually hanging up the cruel quirt “the Gestapo” returns to the table like nothing has happened. In fact, everyone goes back to eating totally ignoring poor Jimmy standing butt-naked in front of us.
Even without looking up, his father matter-of-factly instructs Jimmy not to bother putting his clothes back on tonight. “Since you are so proud of your muscles, taking the time to show off to your little girlfriends instead of getting home to your chores, then maybe we should see more you ourselves. Until further notice, you are not allowed your clothes when permitted in the house. You will dress for school on the back porch. If we find you with any of your brother’s clothes or trying to cover your donkey cock with a towel around your waist, you will be whipped very hard, young man. And, of course, you know I will whip you again and again, don’t you, bigboy?
Jimmy looks all the more miserable as he replies with the standard, “Sir, yes sir.”
“Now, we’ll just see”, looking up he, says with a smile and a wink to his wife.
“For the life of me, I don’t see what that little girl sees in this big piece of shit, anyway. No brain. Nothing but a bunch of muscles” his father laughs and opens another beer.
“Oh yeah, but she’s not just looking at muscles,” his mother climes in with a snort and points down to Jimmy’s fully exposed genitals as he stands in humiliation.
You mean his workhorse dong and those freak bull balls,” his father adds, looking up at Jimmy. “Do you rub that beast against your pretty little girlfriend, bigboy? Huh, boy, does that big cock of yours get all hard when you see your little girlfriend at school?
She put her little hand down your pants and stroke your monster, huh studboy? You think about that tight little cunt, all juicy waiting for your throbbing prick, bonerboy? Sticks her wet tongue down your big and wide pee hole eating your big man salami. Her hot twat rubbing up against you pulling on your badboy meat, huh you big pervert bastardboy? Her mouth all over your nasty sex organs, fondling those big boyballs? Huh, all that hot pussy begging for your muscleman prick”
All this crude talk has immediate intended effect on Jimmy’s raging hormones as his burgeoning cock begins to swell and lengthen down powerful thighs. Daring not to touch it or try to cover it, all Jimmy can do is just standing there swashing in the magnificence of phallus arousal. Dread written all over the Adonis’ masculine face. Aroused, his plum-sized cockhead peaks out from the foreskin and light veins course across the satiny smooth pulsating organ. I’ve never seen a more ponderous sight as Jimmy’s 10-inch tool; it’s girth thicker than my wrist, almost rectangular. It’s bobbing up and out from his corn silk patch of auburn pubs causing the stallion low-hangers to dance, the magnificent “manmouth” organ alive with macho-man potency and power.
“Oh God, look at the animal,” Jimmy’s mother exclaims with disgust. She lights another cigarette, yet never taking her eyes off Jimmy’s whopper, throbbing in desire.
“How dare you flaunt your shameless mansex, you rebellious son of a bastard. You dare behave in such a repulsive manner in front of your mother. You are a defiant unruly hoodlum. Flaunting your fuckmeat in our faces just asking for trouble” a look of contempt on the angry face. “Appears our ‘big shot’ stud here needs a dose of discipline,” his heavy-handed stepfather bellows motioning for Jimmy to move in closer.
Eyes shut tight, Jimmy surrenders, yet again, to the evil embrace of authority as the man’s vile fingers encircle the velvety smooth ball sack and begin to twist and pull on the virile yet tender testicles, making sure to squeeze the oversized orbs painfully together. The agony is excruciating as the vice-like fingers crush the ultra-sensitive gonads; shooting pain overwhelms Jimmy as he wails in the tormented rampage of his father’s assault.
“You think you’re such hot stuff with this big he-man pecker and these oxen big-boy balls, strutting around all the womenfolk at school, showing off your buff body, thrusting your manhood out,” his father sneers, now jerking up and then down violently, wrenching the low-hanging scrotum to exact maximum torture; “answer me, stubborn bastard boy.”
Jimmy howls in pain, “Sir, No, Sir, I . . . don’t do that . . .”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, horny boy, cause you know what the punishment is for lying.” Jimmy spasms in extreme pain, writhing in a crazed nightmarish hell as his stepfather continues to viciously yank and twist his vulnerable testicles. I can’t believe he just doesn’t fall over or faint or something. Jimmy is incredibly strong and must be just plain well conditioned, even habituated to this type of inhuman treatment. I can barely believe what I am seeing yet can’t take my eyes off of Jimmy, suffering in the diabolical pangs of perversion.
“You know you’re not allowed to masturbate, nasty boy,” his father snarls as he applies his fingernails and savagely jerks Jimmy up even with the table.
Jimmy’s long, tumescent hose is cruelly slammed atop the table, throbbing in carnal craving. Remarkably, still fully roused and drooling man juice, the look of sheer delirium contorts his stunningly handsome face. Jimmy, all too well knows what’s coming next; inflamed in intoxicated desire, only to be quelled, made to grovel, whipped into total submission. By now I am in a trance-like state. My own cock has been nonstop leaking feverishly onto my pant’s leg. I haven’t said a word nor have I been spoken to. I feel like this family is going through a demonic ritual that they repeat over and over again no matter who is present. All I know is that I want to be present a lot of times, especially as I witness Jimmy’s mother move in with the quirt.
“Wild boy, so you want to show off to your girlfriends the sins of your flesh? Then we’ll beat your filthy man meat until you can learn to behave,” she screeches and flails the lacerating leather down onto Jimmy’s hypersensitive pulsating sprawling phallus of man-sized potency. The sound of the lash is immediately drowned out by Jimmy’s tormented scream, the not quite baritone voice of the super-masculine youth writhing in inhuman barbarity. The venomous whip bites down deep into his cockhead. Twin fangs of lightning fiery pierce urinary depths, seared pisslips seething. Convulsing in spasms of scalding agony, Jimmy gnaws his lower lip, cross-eyed in hideous delirium; balled-up fists and cracking knuckles signs that he is deep in the throes of atrocious suffering in this asylum from HELL. I think he will pass out when his mother abruptly stops satisfied that Jimmy’s ponderous distention is, once again, its normal 7-inch span, only this time with painful stripes as “reminders to get your ass home on time.”
I sit like a zombie, still gripping the table, immobilized by the utter intensity of the impact, involuntarily propelled into the deranged world of sexual psychopaths. A rampage of sick minds run amok yet an erogenous zone so galvanic as to leave me craving more. Flushed and breathless, the clear evidence of the most intense climax staining my pants. I am afraid to move for fear that my spontaneous ejaculation will be noticed by Matt and his parents. Surprised and relieved that dinner ends as abrupt as it began with Matt retreating upstairs to his bedroom and his parents returning to their beer and TV in the living room. Now it’s just Jimmy and me.
Jimmy, naturally, appears quite embarrassed as he wipes tears away. Totally nude, super-thin welts like angry tendrils ablaze his burnished butt; the coil marks a serpentine brand down his mouth-watering cock. My hero approaches the table, his succulent meat dangling from side to side in a totally natural swagger that makes me swoon, a captive to the subjected. And now he begins his evening chores in front of one of Matt’s classmates. He can only guess what I will be telling everyone come Monday morning or if I shall ever share what I have just experienced, pathological perversion the likes of which but very few witness.
Unable to take my eyes off Jimmy as he begins to clear the dishes off the table, I instinctively reach over and tentatively grab his wrist. Pausing, he stands in front of me, a hypnotic sight for poor eyes. Our eyes embrace. Jimmy’s seductive gaze actually appears calm, the look of self-confidence and power. Excited by the closeness of this young Tarzan, my eyes slowly rove down the Jimmy’s superb torso. Reaching out, I stroke his taut lower stomach, feeling for myself Jimmy’s strong virile body; my hungry fingers encircle the young buck’s wonderful phallus. Immediately Jimmy’s cock comes to life in my hands as I feel him tense up, a deep guttural moan like a lion’s purr. God, this man feels so good! Suddenly his father coughs and instinctively Jimmy pulls away, my fingers frantically hold on. A huge erection is sticking straight out in front of me, a voluptuous spectacle of smoldering libido. Knowing what will happen to him if his parents walk into the kitchen I release Jimmy’s manhood. I don’t want to be responsible for Jimmy getting yet another whipping, or do I? I fear I am becoming a willing player in this family’s perverted psychodrama. Opting for an intermission, I head upstairs to talk to Matt, my own cock hard in my pants once again.
Ten bucks and Matt happily fills me in on much more than I expected starting with showing me where Jimmy sleeps.
“Bedroom”: Jimmy’s bedroom is nothing more than the upstairs walk-in closet [On Matt’s 12th birthday he received a TV and Jimmy’s old bed was in the way. Besides, by then Jimmy wasn’t allowed to watch TV anyway, and his only possession was an exerciser bar, one of those flexor devices to build up his chest and arms. Jimmy, early on, was developing exceptional promise for stunning muscularity, a naive and natural swagger of budding manhood. The boy’s body most certainly did not escape his parent’s rigorous and unrelenting attention, their obsession actually. And since their ‘spit-and-polish’ boy was already a downright specimen of pubescent perfection then it was high time that Jimmy really start pulling his weight in compulsory servitude, to pay-in-full his debt to the family.
The “bedroom” is an 8 x 4 closet situated directly across from his parent’s bedroom and right next to the bathroom. The door was removed to provide Jimmy’s parents an unobstructed view at all times when Jimmy is allowed upstairs [9PM-5AM only except when doing morning chores]. Jimmy’s bedroom consists of a bare mattress on the floor. He is allowed only a blanket, no sheets or pillow. There are no other items in his “bedroom.” There is, however, an object just outside Jimmy’s room. Hanging on a hook on the wall in the hallway is a thick 4-foot long razor strap. Just above the strap is a sign that merely reads:
DISOBEDIENCE = WHIPPINGS
On the bathroom door is another sign:
“Do not enter except between the hours of 6:30AM-7:00AM to clean only.
Violations will result in severe punishments.”
[Jimmy is restricted to the basement toilet that has no seat and he is only allowed to flush once a day. The basement shower consists of a hose run in from outside, no nozzle. Jimmy is allowed a daily 2-minute cold-water shower with a bar of hard soap; this in stark contrast to the leisurely bubble baths he gives his parents. Jimmy regularly bathes his father and mother. Nothing less than dominator/domitrix luxuriating in the tub aroused by “stepboy’s” strong fingers massaging, lathering, manicuring, capitulating to their every command. But then it’s Jimmy’s turn.
Variously referred to as “cock cleaning,” “scrotum scrub,” “testicle tonic time;” all excuses to take a long, hard look at the young buck’s genitals and train him in proper personal hygiene. All possible enjoyment of a real bath is forever dashed as Jimmy fetches the “special brush” from the medicine cabinet. Quite similar to a toenail brush with stiff bristles, the scrubbing instrument causes the young stud to only wish he had a small cock like his stepfather’s. But, no, Jimmy’s meat hangs heavy down slick flesh as he assumes the positions for “purgation.” Completely bent over backward, head facing up with big hands and feet forming a contorted body bridge of arched succulent torso, the lithe athlete must maintain the required height up quite high on fingers and toes. This positions Jimmy’s genitals in a convenient and quite vulnerable exposure. If he lowers himself at all, due to exhaustion, either his mother or step-father, whoever happens to be supervising his “personal hygiene”, will grab his ball bag and painfully yank him back upright. Taking the boy’s pliant python penis in hand, they peal the foreskin back and then scrub away, making sure that the bristles deeply penetrate he-man’s peehole. Jimmy’s old lady, in particular, likes to soap up her little finger and jam it deep down into the stallion’s urinary canal and if Jimmy howls in agony she repeatedly slaps big buck balls very hard, watching them bounce violently as she laughs in debauchery. The ‘she-devil’ slowly pulls her long fingernail out making sure to twist it back and forth several times while the contortioned muscleman convulses in the pangs of purgatorial torment.
Her husband, on the other hand, quite literally, concentrates on Jimmy’s other orifice. He berates the “dumb animal” not thoroughly cleaning his bung [dismissing the fact that Jimmy is not provided toilet paper]. This time the virile young slave assumes the opposite position aiming his ass up high. Bent over at the waist, the punk’s mouth-watering gorgeous ass crack is wide-open awaiting the diabolical pederast to administer a “proper” cleaning. Preferring the “hands-on” approach, psychopath soaps his fist up well and slowly slips several fingers into the Adonis’ tight lovehole. Four fingers and eventually his entire hand, the house master pushes deep past the hyper-sexual lad’s prostate, drilling his fist in and out rapid fire. The brutal assault instantly induces a hard-on as the” wicked” boy’s phallus lengthens down his legs and thrusts his cum-swollen scrotal jewels out between muscular thighs, throbbing in pent up man juice. Jimmy knows sexual display is strictly forbidden as it is considered another example of his defiant behavior. The disgusting sex organ’s need for immediate correction is remedied by the master-man’s now wide open hand twisting and jerking about in the catamite’s gut and in sync with repeated sharp knee kicks to Jimmy’s low-hangers. What’s referred to as “ball banging;” smashing the tender scrotum until “filthy boy’s” erection subsides.
Parentally supervised hygiene hours often occur on the nights Jimmy practices bodybuilding poses in the nude. “Self-improvement” sessions are frequently held in the living room so that the owners can closely appraise Jimmy’s physical development and if he is putting maximum effort into his heavy labors in the rock quarry. Flexing each and every muscle of his perfect physique while his own step-parents rub up against his body, pinch the skin to make sure that there is no fat and rub Jimmy’s dripping sweat over trembling musculature. If their step-slave begins to show signs of exhaustion, they merely point to the new signal whip that hangs prominently next to two family pictures. The first photo shows Jimmy’s step-parents and Matt all smiling at an amusement park. The second photo is just Jimmy and the master. Evidently taken at the quarry, it shows Jimmy naked and cock-yoked, a blank distance expression on chiseled handsomeness but also a face suggesting defiance and deep-down anger; he holds a heavy sledgehammer across a powerful shoulder. Wielding with an iron fist, the master of the property rules over his possession. The hated signal whip is fastened to a holster on the slave-driver’s hip. An odious expression on the overseer’s smiling face leaves little doubt; his fingers trace every vertebra down Jimmy’s bestridden back. All the while his whip hand caresses the “persuasion” goading the beast of burden to work harder.
During these full-body examinations both wicked wife and step-master drink considerable amounts of beer and hard liquor. Her cruel fingers pinching while husband punches, spasms of suffering inflicted on the hard muscled body. Increasingly they target Jimmy’s genitals by slowly milking the man-cock, a squeezing hand on each testicle, torture his suckboy tits and stick nasty fingers up his ass. All the while yelling at him to keep his powerful muscles fully-flexed, the sweat pours off into the wooden floor. “Get rid of that boner, you animal”; step-father unfurls the signal whip.
Jimmy’s 18th Birthday: Jimmy gets his yearly clothes at Xmas; generally something Matt doesn’t want anymore, [like an old T-shirt] but mostly something his parents find for a dollar at Goodwill. Old worn-out sneakers, work pants, and maybe an old hand cloth to dry off after he showers in the basement [he’s not allowed to use any of the towels in the family’s bathroom]. But on Jimmy’s birthdays he receives “practical” gifts like the lawnmower he got when he was 14 or the wheel barrel or sledgehammer. Now, however, his step-parents are becoming more and more concerned about Jimmy’s need for discipline and it was with that in mind that he received his 18th birthday present. Actually, it was explained to Jimmy that the application of the gift would be ongoing, but that the actual article would stay with his parents. Some might think we would be considering a car since Jimmy is of legal age, but that would be unthinkable to the family. No, no, Jimmy needs continual supervision and a hard hand to keep him in line. So with that in mind the young buck received his birthday present of a 4-foot long signal whip. The black leather lash is designed to control pack animals, particularly shed dogs that stray too far from their masters. Jimmy’s incorrigible behavior and especially his laziness at the quarry worried his step-parents. They explained to Jimmy that his new whip should easily correct his problems. To show Jimmy they strung him up by his thumbs in the living room. Matt used the crank until Jimmy was barely standing on his toes, his totally nude body painfully swaying. First his step-father cuts loose with the whip, the loud crack reverberates off the walls at it connected with Jimmy’s muscle bound back. Arching his aching torso in misery, Jimmy cries out as his crazed family cheers that a scream was produced on the first lash. “Get used to it, big man, because your ass ain’t the only place the whip is going to punish from now on,” his demented step- father laughs, aiming so that the second blow cuts into big man’s armpit and takes a bite out of tender nipple. Jimmy’s scream is more intense as he realizes he’s just entered another threshold of pain and agony with this maddening family from Hell. The torment went on until 18 lashes were applied while they sang, “Happy Birthday, Jimmy.”
I am startled by the scream. Matt, totally nonchalant, urges me to “check out my old man cause he’s training Jimmy down in the cellar.”
Nervously I descend the old wooden steps into the dank depths of the cell house, partially lit by light bulbs hanging from electrical cords, illuminating the source of my addictive passion, Jimmy suffering. The superb athlete comes into view almost immediately and I freeze in my tracks. Facing me is Jimmy, arms stretched wide apart; he’s hanging from a pull-up bar high off the cellar floor. Though I am only, at the most, 10 feet from him, he doesn’t even notice me. Instead, Jimmy is totally absorbed with his step-father whose back is to me and oblivious that I am now standing behind them on the lowest step; I slink into the hold of subjection.
Sweat flows down Jimmy’s fine nose onto chiseled cheek, light with stubble; his thick brown hair sexily caked to forehead. Streams of aromatic man-sweat furrow deep gymnastic armpits, flossy tuffs soaked in hair-raising exertion. The man’s slick straining ribcage expand and writhe, cast-iron abdominal undulate the spectacular innie navel and svelte hips. It is then that I see a 35-pound barbell attached to a leather strap around awesome thews hanging down around his knees. The stud’s unquenched genitals stagger me; a delta of sweat and veins coursing through his silky pubs, a steady drip down Jimmy’s perfect plumb penis. His brawny stamina is being probed by brute force. The very well-developed hunk is riveted on his insanely mad superior and as he strenuously pulls himself up into another full pull-up, I see why.
As the cruel sadist shifts slightly I can see that he is holding a cattle prod. Jimmy’s owner fully lives by the policy, “spare the rod and spoil the child” as he encourages the young delinquent with the rod, the “picana” in his hand. Looped around his wrist, the black baton of electrifying fury is positioned right over one of Jimmy’s silver dollar-sized nipples.
“Another one”, his step-father orders while Jimmy groans in total futility. Hanging tough, the muscled young Hercules, tied to the pull-up bar with rawhide straps, is in forced-labor to perform pull-ups with heavy weight for resistance and the blazing cattle prod for persuasion. [This is the Spartan method in which Jimmy’s stern father trains him; its no wonder Jimmy holds all the strength records in school].
The frightening instrument of torture is mere millimeters from Jimmy’s soon-to-be defiled tit. His master’s thumb holds the cattle prod button down ever so lightly but just enough so that the charge barely crackles. The wicked current shoots out stinging rays, a heinous dance of electro-terrorism flickering dangerously at close range to poor Jimmy’s sensitive mouthwatering nipple, the size of a pencil eraser. Trembling in nervousness, Jimmy glances down at the bluish-green current, a thunderbolt of burning rage threatening his already slightly singed man teat.
“I said, do another one, dog, work harder or do I need to turn up the heat for you, macho-man?” the fanatic butcher warns in a low, menacing voice as the cattle prod descends. Immediately Jimmy begins to squirm and whimper as the electro-shock sizzles, darting on and off of his ravishing nipple. The courageous demigod groans and gulps air as he slowly pulls his young, lithe body up into yet another pull-up.
“That’s 16, I want 4 more muscleman. Now!”
I am disgusted that not only is my cock throbbing hard against my pants again, but dangerously close to cumming. Jimmy is buck naked, hanging by his wrist as he twists in torment, yet I am the one who feels totally exposed; both embarrassed and deeply troubled that I am getting off on the mighty man’s dreadful pain, but most of all, petrified that his fiendish step-father will, any minute, turn around and discover my own perversion. It is true. I am plunging unrepentantly into this family’s horrid sadism!
Just as I reach the top of the stairs I shoot my load realizing the electrifying excruciation that a cattle prod must be capable of producing. As Jimmy screams in agony I can barely hold on to the doorknob while my cock pumps jism down my pants leg.
Both repulsed and yet spellbound I retreat up to Matt’s room awkwardly trying to conceal hormonal intoxication blatantly discharged.
Without being overly graphic Matt knows what my interest is in his older brother. He smugly understands that I am hopelessly attracted to Jimmy, so for me to ejaculate in my pants twice in as many hours doesn’t particularly gross out Matt. What Matt doesn’t know but soon finds out is that I not only crave his brother’s body (Matt figures a lot of people are turned-on to Jimmy’s looks), but also am ravenously aroused by the intense sight of Jimmy being tortured; watching the Adonis writhe in crazed torment, his heavy manhood jerking in spasms of pain.
Matt begins to strongly suspect something’s kinky about his fairy classmate following another incident later that evening.
Shortly before 9 PM we hear a loud crack. Matt laughingly raises his hand high in the air, mimics his father’s heavy-handed smack across Jimmy’s bare butt followed by, “now get your ass to bed.”
“Finally, my turn, my turn for my big bro to ‘toe the line” Matt excitedly announces as we hear Jimmy bound up the stairs.
“At attention, shithead,” Matt commands and Jimmy immediately enters his step-brother’s bedroom, as ordered. I am, once again, ecstatic. Merely inches away from the naked young Tarzan, excited by this magnificent mesomorph my hands itching to touch giant genitals that seductively slap his loins as he enters, a worried expression on Jimmy’s ultra-masculine face.
“Look what I found under my bed, jerk-off”, a smug Matt holds out a small dirt clod that he quite evidently brought in from outside. Jimmy towers over us, a powerful vision of manhood, muscles throbbing in potency, stalwartly bracing himself as his gloating evil step-brother drops the lump to the floor before grinding the crushed dirt. His boot is dangerously close to Jimmy’s man-size toes. Oh, to suck on those lightly haired knuckles of skeletal perfection! Matt begins to put on a pair of unpadded leather gloves; snickering at the sight of his jock bastard brother’s surrender.
“Yea, stepbro needs to lick the dirt a little more, he needs to be whopped. Isn’t that right big man?” Jimmy positions his eyes straight ahead, raises muscular arms up high overhead, shredded baseball biceps, then clasps his wrists behind his neck, and braces himself for a walloping. He seems resigned to submission but not particularly concerned.
“Big brother here is Superman. I mean, man, look at all of his muscles” Matt exclaims almost in awe. “Yea, you can take a hard punch, huh horse prick.” Matt tightens the black leather gloves, quickly pulls back and slams his fist hard into Jimmy stomach. The blow is loud, kind of a hollow sound. Jimmy grunts from the impact but I don’t sense that he is hurting much.
Matt continues to hammer away like he’s using a punching bag. Each slug meant to pulverize Jimmy who could easily overpower Matt by merely griping his step-brother’s scull, holding him out at arm’s length. Jimmy, to be sure, is in some discomfort. Matt is in no way being wimpy; these punches would really hurt the average person. Jimmy twists; his breathing is heavy as he flinches and flexes, hard muscles absorbing the beating. The family servant’s flawless abdominal muscles are naturally concave with each individual muscle clearly outlined. I can only stand-by engrossed in yet another spectacle of courageous suffering as my rigid cock testifies to my own blossoming sadism.
Matt finally stops out of frustration and exhaustion. I think he’s embarrassed that in front of a nerdy classmate he is unable to get super-buff brother to cry out.
“Time to go a little lower for one more punch”, Matt, menacingly stares up into Jimmy’s worried face.
Jimmy begins to sidestep towards the door until Matt threatens to call their father. Jimmy immediately stops in his tracks.
“You see how my Dad grabbed hold of these bull balls at dinner”? Matt asked me with a smirk. Jimmy glances over at me. I nearly cum every time he looks at me, his own big brown eyes a combination of innocence, passion, and pain. But I’m looking down again at Jimmy’s perfect python, even totally flaccid the milky smooth meat hangs down like a thick cucumber, its thick head vividly outlined under translucent foreskin. And then on to what bulges behind the phallus, a pair of testes bigger than any I have ever before seen; hanging nearly as low as his cock, each super-stud orb heavy in the silky smooth scrotum. They must be impossibly huge to suck. I can’t help it but I must get my hands on them.
“Go ahead, take firm hold of the beast’s ball sack; crush this bastard thug’s cajones,” Matt urges me on, gloating in dominion over this rugged Goliath.
I’m palpitating as my trembling hands fondle these tingling testes teeming in orgasmic juices; their sheer weight is as impressive as their incredible masculine beauty. Instinctively my fingers tighten, to my surprise, as I pull down on the gigantic nuts and form a cylinder with my hands around Jimmy’s genital jewels. The swollen testicles mushroom out, his pliant prick sprawled over and to one side. I am, once again, in heaven (for Jimmy this is Hell) holding the “target”, the punching bag of bigboy balls, for Matt to wreak havoc with.
The low blow is over in seconds. It is Jimmy’s reaction or shall we say recovery that takes a while. Matt delivers a rattling upper cut that nearly knocks Jimmy to the floor and probably would have if I hadn’t still been holding on to these hairless nuggets of manhood. Jimmy lets out an agonizing howl ignited in atrocious pangs of testicle torture. He immediately grabs his besieged balls and delights Matt with a spasmodic dance of savage suffering flouncing about like a jerking puppet. The big naked Adonis desperately struggles to gain composure still holding battered balls that throb in gnawing agony. Our perverted orgy is interrupted or rather heightened by Matt’s father whose sinister laughter at the door stops Jimmy dead in his tracks.
“Didn’t I tell you to get to bed”?
Jimmy is 10 minutes late for bed as he fetches the revolting rawhide razor strap for his stepfather.
God, what an evening! I am a total mess. I don’t think I can possibly sleep thinking about what I have witnessed. And to think that Jimmy is just next door only a few feet away from me. What’s really going to keep me awake tonight is entertaining the idea about what tomorrow will bring. Can you imagine?
The eerie hush of twilight descends however my mind reels in vivid flashbacks of Jimmy, standing naked, being whipped; his supple body bracing for the thunderous crack of the quirt, belt, razor strap or the repeated hard slaps from his guardians. And with all the backbreaking endless daily toil that he is consigned to perform it seems that Jimmy is more a slave than the eldest stepson of this demented family. Earlier Matt shared intriguing information of why Jimmy is treated so abominably as we settled down for the evening.
Matt recalls childhood memories of Jimmy’s near daily spankings with the belt, endless chores as well as extended periods of forced nudity, that the older boy is a wanton “half-breed,” a common low-class “ward of the court” serving the sentence of “25 years of hard labor” in restitution to the family. The conditions of Jimmy’s retribution are customary dinner-table discourse that becomes increasingly agitated as “master” and “mistress” imbibes. For you see, Jimmy is the “family business,” the sole source of all income and though quite noticeably a strong and very good-looking lad is actually despised all the more. Venting insane rage as if reliving the disgraceful mishap, what the family refers to as “the damnable sin.”
To be quite frank, Jimmy is a bastard, the product of sexual assault, the defilement of a defenseless woman. An additional insult, and there are many, is that the rape occurred while Matt’s parents were on a date in the park. A young devastatingly attractive hoodlum easily overpowered Matt’s skinny father, then intentionally and playfully made love to his woman. A slow sensual copulation purposely performed by the delinquent assailant as the helpless man cowered in fear and awe.
It was during the subsequent pregnancy that the full impact of the sexual attack set in and how this boy baby would affect their lives. At that time, Matt’s mother, though platonically fond of her unattractive boyfriend never considered marriage and certainly not with him, yet a pregnancy in those days left but few choices. If only her so-called man had at least tried to defend her from the much younger rapist! An adult man yet so plainly puny compared to that undeniably handsome and well-muscled escapee from the youth reformatory; the juvenile’s mighty tool causing her to swoon. Now stuck in an unwanted marriage and with an unwanted boy, she felt trapped!
Matt’s father, on the other hand, was a young man with his whole life ahead of him. To be honest, he wasn’t even attracted to his girlfriend or to any woman for that matter. That fucking ruffian punk! So cock-sure, his huge meat hanging out of his pants, seducing women with that massive weapon. Nothing but a wrangler thug! Humiliated like no man should ever be by a stud-strutting dirty delinquent and now he was going to have to raise the hellion’s bastard boy! His life was destroyed!
Some one would pay!
So these two unhappy mismatched adults began life together discovering that they, indeed, had something very much in common. Whereas their “real son,” Matt is a reflection of their light if not sanctimonious side, Jimmy brings out vile deep-down sadism that is utter frightening in its intensity. That pathological hate mandated by twisted logic of a corrupt judge and Jimmy is contemptuously condemned and held liable in servitude for the criminal rape of his mistress as if he actually committed the “filthy act!” On his own mother! But then there are all the times he must perform sex acts on madam when she gets drunk and whips him in this maddening theater of the absurd. Oh, Jimmy is so confused. The hyper-sexual eighteen year old super-stud wonders maybe he really is a “savage” in need of regular correctional measures. He gulps hard imagining how many more punishments he will earn for leaving a fingerprint on master’s freshly shined boots or for a coffee ground found under the refrigerator. Seven more years before Jimmy is a 25 year old parolee. Seven long years of total obedience and compulsory hard labor, mere property in this grotesque miscarriage of justice! Unfortunate for the “bastard boy”, the older he gets the more he is the exact heir of the young, powerfully built handsome rapist; a daily reminder that the family’s bondboy is a “cursed bad seed” triggering evermore rabid rage.
A fitful nightlong of strange nightmarish dreams, my erection pulsates to the faint rhythmic sound of wood chopping at dawn. Startled, I awake to a commanding voice from out in the hallway.
All alone and figuring Matt must be taking a shower; I crack open the door to see Jimmy, naked, approaching Matt’s mother. The young bondslave quicksteps over to an old wooden soapbox up against the wall in the hallway, right outside the master’s bedroom. Hanging on a hook are 2 leather thongs with unusual knots. Stepping onto the low platform the strapping young stallion stands at attention as mistress reaches for the first thong, the one with a split end, sort of like a “wishbone”. Immediately she goes to work loosening-up and then slipping the separate knots of the first thong onto each of Jimmy’s heavy-hanging testicles. As she tightens down each noose you can see just how incredibly huge Jimmy’s balls really are in his owner’s hands, her cruel fingers unable to entirely encircle each goose egg. The captive testicles are tethered and tightly pulled apart. Velvety smooth in their fully stretched scrotum, you can see tiny veins crisscross as the transparent orbs are leashed for the workday. In spite of mistress’ less than gentle handling of her man servant’s less than private parts I notice Jimmy becoming stimulated by the jostle and, to his instant horror, begins to languorously erect while the ill-humored madam is still yanking down hard on the leather knots. The pendulous, milky smooth man meat swells, lurches as it hardens, Jimmy’s plum-size cockhead slowly emerges from foreskin membrane, a glop of luscious man-honey crowns the 10×8-inch shining display, a throbbing perfect straightedge of rigid manhood pointing directly in his mistress’ face.
Slowly stepping back a few paces, a face of self-righteous rage, mistress reaches for the other thong. Clenching the strap in hand she silently brandishes the leather lariat. Cringing, big muscle boy braces himself for losing control for the hundredth time. It’s just so early in the morning and Jimmy has earned his first whipping of the day!
Whoossh! Whoossh! Whoossh! Whoossh!
The leather thong is not very long but in Matt’s mother’s hand it’s a lethal weapon. Griping it by the knot, high overhead followed by a quick backhand she wields the thin cord with a vengeance that is only compounded by her memory of the hated rapist’s cock.
Head skyward but with eyes closed tight, Jimmy is in utter agony. Sinewy fingers desperately grope the wall, as his yelps and squirming muscles signal the enslaved Adonis’ re-entry into Hades. The leather’s vicious bites cover his laid-bare arousal a-throb in unrelenting pain and vulgar lust. Taking special aim mistress snaps the furious flagellum with repeated hit and no miss thwacks to Jimmy’s wide-open urethra meatus; the stinging rawhide sparking lightning-swift writhing and louder howls as “vulgar boy” head-bangs the hard wall. A wondrous sight to wake up to!
The uproar attracts Jimmy’s master as the overseer approaches his ill-fated juvenile ward thrashing in muscled spasms of tumultuous tumescence. A sinister grin creeps across unshaven face, the cheerfully awakened warden wipes sleep from his eyes and strokes beneath his own pajama bottoms. Grasping the firm squared jaw and dimpled chin of peppered stumble, the leering ruler jerks Jimmy’s head down to the side. Beholding his most prized possession, a young buck ablaze in the vexations of arousal, the fanatically strict master commands Jimmy’s attention. Cringing, the rugged face grimaces, the subjugated mind subdued by a domitrix’s unspeakable depravity. Stinging lashes of the leather cord thrash against sculptured loins and Jimmy’s defiant and ever so slowly yielding “untamed” cock. Matt described how his father gets off peering into Jimmy’s eyes while the hoodlum hunk is being whipped, that he savors every groan, howl and shriek. Rubbing Jimmy’s flat bellybutton, the snickering deviate dominator slowly strokes his long-suffering penal bondboy’s body, sizing up the magnificent young he-man. Tantalizing to the touch, the captive’s flawless straining intercostals and furrowed ribcage breath beneath satin skin and a cutaneous network of sexy veins. A body that screams for hands-on inspection as the master revels in carnal mania. Finding the slave’s velvety smooth silver-dollar areola and pea-size teats proudly protruding out on buff-boy’s ridge of squared pectoral muscle amazed how the teen stud’s ultra-sensitive tits instinctively respond. Quick on the draw, Matt’s father clamps sharpened fingernails about the spectacular nipples, squeezing the swollen nubs, his grinding thumbnails sadistically sawing the tortured man-nips, a psychopathic lecher’s meat hooks meant to inflict piercing pain.
Raving in mind-numbing agony, Jimmy howls in this infernal house of correction. Master promptly stifles the “animal’s” roar by thrusting his middle finger into the stubborn beast’s sex-driven mouth. One thing Jimmy knows even in the pangs of a whipping is that a forced-fed finger suck means only one thing, a furious finger fuck.
Jamming his itching finger up the athlete’s tight-end of sleek ass glory-hole the decadent man profanely fondles Jimmy’s hyperactive prostrate predictably burgeoning in excitement. The obstinate whoreson’s cock defiantly swells to full potency in spite of his mistress’ renewed whipping frenzy.
See why it’s called “Hellhouse?”
Stepping to the side the mischievous overseer frolics in laughter, seizes the revolting scrotum leash that tightly ensnares Jimmy’s bound testicles and begins to pull the mighty orbs taut. Slowly rotating the translucent sex organs so that his wife can aim away, Matt’s father is enthralled with the biting ball flagellation reminding Jimmy that “we’ll tame your vulgar ways, you stubborn heathen boy.”
How many lashes? Who can count? My own cock exploded in my underwear 5 minutes into the bizarre lashing as I ground myself against the bedroom door, a shameless voyeur once again relishing the obscene whipping of Jimmy. Watching the bad man-servant contort in agony, an erratic swaying motion of slender hips and sharply indented pelvic wildly jerking the massive phallus about. Exuding the pungent odor of manly pheromones into the thick air, Jimmy suffers. Yet in spite of this agonizing punishment as evidenced by the amount of sweat dripping down Jimmy’s still sobbing face and ultra-masculine body, the only marks on his genitals are angry red nicks. Jimmy is fully aware how much more painful his discipline would have been if mistress had told him to fetch the quirt hanging in the kitchen. Too bad Jimmy is so horny. Huh?