As well as bullying, fighting, masturbation and oral sex, this story will now feature some anal sex, among eighteen-year-old males. Please go elsewhere if that troubles you!
Comments welcome, to antinous48@yahoo.co.nz. ______
In part 1, Karl told how he and his slave Nicky were kidnapped by Robby and three other jocks. In parts 2-6, Nicky and Karl explain how Nicky came to be Karl's slave in the first place, and what that led to. In parts 7-10 Nicky and Karl described what happened after the kidnap: how Karl defeated Pete Petrowski and Steve Dawson but lost to Brad van der Velden, how Brad intervened to protect Nicky when Nicky attacked Robby, and how Brad announced that he was joining the Spivak team and proceeded to fight his former ally Robby. In part 12 (an alternative continuation to part 11) Nicky persuaded Brad to agree to a ten-minute break, during which he and Karl act as seconds for their former enemy Robby.
Now Karl takes up the story. ____
The ten minutes are up. Nicky and I have done what we can to help Robby. (Why Nicky? Well, for the same reason as me, I guess. Robby may be arrogant and obnoxious, but he's fought bravely against the big-muscled wrestling he-man Brad -- a helluva lot more bravely than I'd expected. And ... ah ... ahem ... Robby is beautiful. There, I've said it. If in my part of town word got round that I thought a guy was beautiful, I'd be human garbage within a day. But I can admit it here. I've come this far, since knowing Nicky. And if I want to see Beauty triumph over the Beast, why shouldn't Nicky want that too?)
It's gonna be hard for Robby. He's tired and he's outmuscled. But if he takes the advice I've given him and forgets that shit about being gentlemanly and sportsmanlike, he's got a chance ...
They've started off in a pushing and shoving match, their bodies low, shoulders meshing like in a rugby scrum. OK, that's fine. Robby's doing the right thing, letting Brad push him back, encouraging Brad to get overconfident. (Not that it's a matter of letting Brad SEEM stronger. Call it making a virtue of necessity, I guess.) When Robby's heels meet the wall, he is forced to straighten up, and Brad too. Now Brad's juicy tender balls are in range of Robby's knee ...
YES! Robby slams his knee up hard. There's a roar from Brad. Robby knees him hard again. Brad lets go of Robby. He bends forward, his hands clutching his groin.
Now, Robby, this is your chance, get behind him, chop his neck, flatten him, then get him immobilized ...!
There's a grin on Robby's face. Hey, don't get too cocky! There's work to do! Don't waste time ...
NOOO! You idiot, Robby!
Robby has butted his head into Brad's face. He has cut Brad's lip. But the effect is predictable. Robby has lost the element of surprise now, and he has also enraged Brad. Brad forgets about the pain in his groin. His hands seize Robby around the neck. He slams Robby's shoulders hard against the wall.
Where's the grin that was on Robby's cute lips a moment ago? It's vanished, that's for sure. While on Brad's ugly mug -- well, you can imagine it: a look of cold fury.
But Robby still has his arms free. And Brad's elbows are spread wide. So there's room for Robby to bring one arm up between Brad's arms and ram the edge of his hand hard under Brad's nose. Exquisitely painful, if it's done right and ... thank God ... Robby seems to have done it right. Brad roars again. His head goes back. He loosens his grip on Robby's neck. Robby lands a fist in Brad's belly.
A blow like that from our Robby -- he's got impressive guns, has young Farrell -- not just decorative but powerful -- yeah, stroking those arms and squeezing those muscles would be sooo nice -- I envy Nicky, he got to squeeze them just now ... Ah, where was I? Oh yes. A blow like that from Robby would have sent anyone else crashing to the mat, curled up and whimpering in fetal position, if not out stone cold. With Brad it hasn't had quite that effect, it has just sent him lumbering backward a step of two, like a rhinoceros in reverse gear. But at least it has put distance between him and Robby. And Robby has the initiative again. Now, Robby, use your advantage ...!
YES! Robby kicks Brad in the groin. Brad sags, almost bent double. Robby gets to the side of Brad, clasps his hands together and brings both fists down on Brad's neck in an ax-handle blow. Good, that's what you should have done earlier, Robby. Still, better late than never. Brad topples forward on to the mat. Now what ...?
YES! BRILLIANT! Robby grabs Brad's left wrist with both hands while planting his right foot between Brad's shoulder blades. Then, standing with his full weight on Brad, he pulls Brad's left arm straight and twists it. Brad does not like this at all. Robby twists Brad's arm harder. 'AAAAGH!' Brad roars in agony.
Robby grins again. 'You don't like it, huh? It hurts, huh?'
C'mon, Robby, no wisecracks, just get him to submit! You've got him where you want him, so quit being smart, you must have learned your lesson by now ...
Robby grins more broadly. (Oh-oh, I've got a bad feeling about this ... It's the old arrogant supercilious Robby resurfacing.) 'OK, I'll tell you how to stop it hurting! So pay attention, Brad! Say after me ...' (Oh, Robby, please! You're supposed to be an A student, don't say anything dumb!) 'Say after me, so everyone can hear: I, Brad van der Velden, was BRAINLESS to think I could ever beat Robby Farrell!'
Oh shit. Everyone refers to Brad as 'brainless Brad', but never in Brad's hearing. Absolutely never. Oh Robby, you fool, you fool, you fool ...
Brad lies motionless. There is no sound except his noisy breathing. We all wait agog. Two seconds ... three seconds ...
Robby smiles down at the muscleman. 'What you waiting for, Brad? The pain's only going to get worse.' And he twists Brad's arm a little further.
Robby is standing sideways on to me. His strong smooth legs, the bulge of his cock and balls inside his red trunks, the neat shape of his abs and pecs in profile (such awesome mounds of muscle, so strokable, so kissable -- yes, I can admit this now), his bent neck as he smiles down at Brad, the dimple in his cheek, the dark lock of hair dangling over his forehead -- I get a good eyeful, because I have a terrible foreboding: in just a few seconds the situation of this oh-so-confident Adonis is going to be horribly different ...
Then it begins: the eruption, the earthquake, however you like to put it.
Brad's right arm is in a position where pushing up with it won't help him. Or at least that's how it looks. Likewise his legs: he can wave them around as much as he likes, it won't help to dislodge Robby. But with Brad one can't go by how things look. I should know that by now. Above all, Robby should know that by now.
If Brad can flip himself over, so he is on his back rather than his front ... but Robby's weight is hard to budge. Unless ... oh no ... Brad has bent his head forward so as to plant his forehead on the mat. Now he can begin to use his neck muscles to push himself up. He grunts and pants, but he's doing it, a fraction of an inch at a time: with just his neck muscles, he is managing to push his shoulders up, even with Robby's weight bearing down on them! Now it's the top of Brad's head that's the pivot for more effective upward pressure -- and now he's been able to get his right arm under his chest, so that it can contribute to the effort too!
Brad's back is slippery with sweat -- Robby's foot is sliding -- then with a sudden jerk Brad levers himself on to his right side, and Robby's foot slips off entirely. Robby now has both feet on the mat, standing astride Brad. But he's still gripping Brad's left wrist tight in both hands and is twisting Brad's arm painfully. So he's still in control, right?
Wrong! Brad has now flipped on to his back. And now his legs ...
I think I'll never forget Robby's reaction to that first messy weak kick that Brad landed on those red briefs and their vulnerable contents. Robby looks down at Brad, his mouth open, and says 'Oh!', quietly, like he's mildly annoyed. Hey, Robby, in case you haven't noticed, Brad is making a comeback, and mild annoyance is not going to quell him! So do something, boy, quick!
What Robby does do is maintain his hold on to Brad's left wrist. Good thinking? Maybe not. Brad lands a second kick, stronger this time, on Robby's lower belly. 'Oooff!' Robby is no longer mildly annoyed, he's seriously disconcerted. But he continues to hold on. The result is that ... the result is that ... oh man ... sorry, you gotta bear with me, I'm remembering the most terrible moment of that whole rollercoaster evening ...
The result is that, when Brad's foot blasts Robby's abs a third time, the fact that Robby is holding on to Brad makes the impact all the more devastating. Sure, Robby does let go. But that's because otherwise Brad's foot would have punched a hole right through him. At least, that's what it sounds like and looks like. Robby is catpulted backwards into the wall six feet away. He slides down it to end up in a sitting position, legs spread wide, hunched forward. He is clutching his stomach. Out of his gaping mouth come dreadful rasping noises as he gasps for breath. Also a drool of saliva. For a moment I think he is going to throw up, but at least he is spared that indignity.
The rasping noise turns into a prolonged moan. Brad slowly stands up, grimacing, his right hand clutching his left shoulder. But Robby, still sitting hunched against the wall, takes no notice of him. It's fair to say that Robby's mind is on other things, such as pain and the effort of breathing. It's only when Brad grabs a handful of Robby's hair in his right hand that Robby takes notice: 'Whaaa...?'. He is dragged towards the middle of the mat on hands and knees.
Now Brad pulls Robby's head up so that Robby is kneeling directly in front of him, his eyes getting a bleary close-up view of Brad's belly. Robby's arms dangle limp.
'You're gonna admit defeat and apologize, BRAINLESS Farrell. But in a little while. First, you're gonna clean my pants. Lick them clean. They've got filthy from the filthy mat here in your shitty basement.'
There is a pause. Very faintly, from Robby: 'No...'
Brad, still using only his right hand, presses Robby's face hard into his black lycra- covered crotch: 'Get licking, damn you! Until I tell you to stop!'
Robby's eyes are half-closed, his mouth still sags open, his shoulders are slumped. Oh no ... not this ... oh poor sad beaten Robby ...
But yes. Robby's tongue is out, he is meekly licking the crotch of the hideous thug wrestler. His hands clasp loosely Brad's left thigh ...
'Yes, that's good, boy, keep it going, I want my pants good and clean!'
Robby's hands slide down to Brad's ankle. They grip it. Robby pulls. It's not a strong pull, Brad's foot just scrapes across the mat a few inches.
'Hey, what you ...?'
Robby pulls again. I can tell he is putting all remaining his strength into it this time. Brad's foot jerks forward and up into the air as his shoulders jerk back -- he tries to regain his balance -- he fails and begins to topple -- he remembers not to put his sore left arm out to save himself, he tries to cushion himself with his right arm only -- he lands awkwardly ...
'Awww fuck! My wrist!'
Brad is on his back with his right arm under him. He rolls to his side. He tries to stand up, but it is difficult. Evidently both his his left shoulder and his right wrist are hurting badly. Eventually he totters upright, sucking in his breath through his teeth and muttering curses. Meanwhile Robby has got himself into a standing position too, but he is clutching his belly and he looks like a puff of wind would blow him flat.
Nicky gets up and positions himself between them. Oh my. Once again the little nerd, my faithful slave, is taking charge ...
[to be continued]