Cousins Take Charge

Cousins Take Charge

Category – gay authoritarian – teen (legal age), role reversal, bondage, discipline, `forced' exercise,

Chapter Ten

And that was all the warning Ben got before Rad grabbed his head and slid in his cock, all the way down. All – the – way – down. Ben reached deep into his fuzzy memory, vaguely recalling – just in time – Peebles' advice about gag reflexes. Rad pulled back, clamped his runner's thighs round Ben's head, then shoved down again. Flicking the crop on Ben's left nip (still sore from the clover clamps that morning) "C'mon, boy, put some effort in". Noting the pleasing jerk caused by the crop, which closed the throat involuntarily on his cock, pulled out, pushed in, harder crop-flick.

Oh yeah! That was fun! Ben was swinging round on his cock, writhing from the nipple-pain. Rad shoved in again and, when fully in, pushed a bit more – shove, shove, shove. Ben's head twisted, pushed back against the mattress, trying to get away, but was trapped by those wiry lean thighs; he choked, coughed up some catarrh as Rad withdrew.

A further distraction. Rick joined in, slapping Ben's dick gently, timing the smacks with the bounce of the erection. Smack, dick bounces against abs, bounces back, smack, bounce, smack, bounce ... Ben moaned and thrust his hips to get more solid stimulus from the crop.

But Rad brought his focus back to the top end, by ramming in again, right in until his balls were squashed against Ben's nose, then joggling his thighs from side to side so that the inside of Ben's mouth and throat was rubbing different ways on his cock. Pulling out, Ben burped, coughed up a little more, eyes already tearing.

Back in again, humping his cock right inside the throat – hump, hump, hump. Crop-flick – wonderful how Ben's moan vibrated against his cock! Do it again! Flick, moan, oh yeah, hot vibration! Ben's torso was writhing underneath him, short of breath.

Rad pulled back. "W-wait a moment," Ben gasped, "Jus' let me get – ghghghgh!" Cut off short by Rad thrusting in again, shove, shove, shove, flick, flick, flick. Out long enough for Ben to gasp, spew out some more phlegm – great lubrication, thank you, Ben! – then in again.

Rad was too young and inexperienced to understand properly the need for a dom to keep a brake on his activities – `simultaneously the guard in the van and the train driver' – but he dimly realised that Rick's presence was a reasonable safeguard from things going seriously wrong.

It was therefore with a complete lack of inhibition that he drove in again, shoving hard, keeping it there. Keeping it there longtime - even though Ben was choking, torso heaving, abs clenching, biceps bunching, long thigh muscles tightening, ignoring the mews of distress, watching the lean torso twisting, tugging at his bonds, in a vain attempt to throw him off.

As he withdrew, Ben heaved, spewing out a gutload of phlegm which ran down his face, snorting in an attempt to clear out of his nose, blinking his eyes as it ran in there as well.

But no rest – in went Rad again, shove, hold. He bent forward and grabbed Ben's throat. Shit he could feel himself inside there! He gripped the top of the throat harder – yeah, it tightened on his cock! He shoved harder, gripped, watching as Ben writhed and twisted ever more desperately.

Shit, he felt so fucking powerful! His cock was a god! It was his cock that was making his jock cousin clench his muscles in escape-mode, writhe vainly underneath him, mew urgently for relief! Withdraw; choking, heaving, more phlegm and bile pouring out down the face to join with the tears, into the hair, dripping on to the towel on the floor.

Oh wow! Never had a blowjob been as good as this! Don't wait for Ben to finish gasping, shove it in again – oh yeah!

Ben was in a headspace never visited before. Rick's constant slapping and stroking was driving his dick mad – `shit, when was the last time I came, it's been years since I last came', while his body was struggling to cope with Rad's onslaught. Bleary with lack of oxygen, dimly aware that some kind of struggle was needed to achieve some kind of climax, knowing he was being speared by a god-cock that demanded his all. Strangely, he found that the moments when he was being starved of air seemed to be bringing his own climax closer, despite his accompanying insensate efforts to suck in absent oxygen.

For as long as Rad's cock was in his mouth, he strove to give it all the worship it demanded, gripping it with his lips, sucking until his cheeks hollowed, laving it with his tongue, rasping it with his throat.

Here it was again, down, down, all the way down. Rad held it there, shoved, gripped, shoved again. Waited. And waited. Waited for the choking, the bleating. The frothing round the mouth. Waited for his cock to receive the homage it deserved.

Yep. There it was.

The whole of Ben's athletic torso tried to jack-knife, wrists and ankles tugging vainly at the restraining ropes.

Yep. There was more.

Now his torso was jerking, spasming, heaving, staccato yelps vibrating round his cock.

Fuck, that was hot!

Withdraw. Gush of relief – stale air, phlegm, bile, tears, snot running down the face – Ben's hair was soaked in it.

Fuck, Rad was so close – the heady dominance over this hot jock was just as arousing as the physical stimulation. Push in again, oh yeah, that mouth working his cock, oh yeah, I'm gonna cum, pull out until the tip is on the lips, tongue following it out, oh yeah, here it cums, spewing out over the mouth, running down the face, over the chin, into the nose, "swallow it, boy, swallow your master's cum!" still more spewing, tongue lapping frenziedly, lips trying to suck it up, cleaning the god-cock...

While Ben was still gasping, the twins made sure they got closeup footage of his face and hair; a real mess, revolting, smelly, dehumanising; objectifying. He was unable even to see out of his tear-streaming eyes, snorting in an attempt to clear his nose, making the mess worse, snot hanging from his nostrils.

Just how a used slaveboy should look after serving its masters.

In the shower, Ben was still feverishly, achingly, hard, to the point where it wouldn't take much for him to ignore all orders, grab his dick and cuuuummmm. But the twins kept him moving, occupied, dried off, back on the bed, where he flopped down – his erection a waving flagpole signalling craving.

"L-listen, guys, p-please, I've gotta cum! It's two days since I had a proper cum!"

It was as though the lights went out, the door opened on the freezing night, the music stopped.

The twins knelt over him, pleasant expressions suddenly gone.

"Yeah, well, let's talk about that, Benny" (shit, `Benny' was back), "shall we?"

Ben looked up at them blankly.

"D'you remember on Wednesday we said `never touch your dick unless we say so'?"

Ben nodded.

"An' then what happened when you were meant to be cleaning the ensuite" (oh fuck) "You'd just fucked up not cleaning it properly, we left you to re-do the job, and instead you started jerking off."

As Ben tried to explain – "Really, Benny, what did you think was gonna happen? All those viewers, and you think not one of them was gonna tell us? As it happens, almost all of them did! You fucked up big time – and what happens when you fuck up?"

Oh shit.

"I-I-..."

"Well, Benny?"

Oh fuck.

"I-I get p-punished, Sirs."

"Too right. An' remember it's your fault - you get punished because you do something wrong. If you don't like this, remember you brought it on yourself."

While Rad was talking, Rick had been opening a drawer – now he brought forward a handful of metal stuff.

Shit. "Wh-what's that, Sir?"

"It's an iron maiden", Rick showing it to the camera as much as to Ben. The twins worked swiftly: clipped the ring behind his balls and dick, oiled the kinked sound and slid it down his piss-slit – ignoring his gasps of pain –, slapped his balls hard enough to get his dick soft, linked the two halves of the bulbous case containing the blunt spikes to the genital ring and the sound, padlocked it shut encasing his penis.

`Click!'

There was a finality about that click – echoing in Ben's ears as loudly as the clang of a cell- door slamming shut.

The twins had just shut up Ben's dick in a small metal bulb which had blunt spikes poking inwards.

The look, the feel – both weird! Not necessarily unpleasant, just weird. The look – strangely erotic, outlandish, futuristic. The feel – as if someone was gently holding his penis. Weird ... erotic.

Starved of a decent orgasm for two days, that eroticism took its natural course. Blood rushed to his penis. It started to swell, rubbing against the spikes, creating a pain-pleasure which made Ben gasp, roll his fluttering eyes as his dick took over.

The pain-pleasure equation caused his dick to swell – as the phoenix casts itself on the flames for its rebirth, no less enthusiastically did his penile flesh hurl itself against the spikes.

"Oh, shit!" Ben doubled up as the pain part of the equation became dominant. "Guys, please! This fucking hurts!"

He moaned as his erection subsided somewhat in response to the pain, managing a wry smile as the pain correspondingly receded. But now the pleasure part of the equation kicked in again – and the sacrificial flesh impaled itself further onto the spikes.

Ben clutched the metal, writhed on the bed.

"Fuck-fuck-fuuuuck!"

Erection subsiding again, Rad warned "So now you get the point, Benny. Behave and all is well – misbehave and suffer! Talk about punishment fits the crime!"

The twins rolled on the bed with Ben – their hilarity, his writhing.

He managed to calm down a little. "Fuck, what is this thing! Where did you get it – oh don't tell me – another one of those nasty little toys that bastard next door got for you!"

Rad slapped his butt. "Ah-ah – naughty Benny. I don't think you should be referring to him like that, do you?", indicating the cameras.

"Oh, n-no – sorry, Sir" a crestfallen Ben looking at the camera, then back at the twins, "But this thing hurts – you're not gonna leave it on me, are you?"

"Well, that depends on you, boy – remember, this happened because you were bad... Talking of which, you are `chalking these up', aren't you? Twin – d'you mind?"

Rick retrieved a piece of paper from the drawer, stuck it on the wardrobe door.

"I think it's time, cuz, for you to be a bit more careful – so we're starting a demerit list – you see the list? It's got not cleaning the ensuite' there, and jerking off without permission'. That's two. There's space for three more. If you reach five demerits, you get an extra punishment and", Rad smiled grimly, "Trust me, it won't be a punishment you'll like!"

Ben felt sick. "B-but, Sir, I've already been punished for both those!"

Rad nodded matter-of-factly. "Sure you have. And if you don't do anything else wrong, that's as far as it goes. Think of the list as a reminder – every time you see it, it should help remind you to be careful."

(And indeed, over the days to come, the list acted as a constant rebuke for Ben, a threat hanging over him – a useful reinforcement of his subservience, telling him that he had to work hard in his slave-role, never to get complacent, never to take liberties.)

Rick gave him a hug and kissed him on the forehead. "Remember what I said earlier, cuz? Let yourself go, forget your own ego, just let us lead the way."

Ben gratefully hugged him back for the moment of friendly intimacy – things were always moving so fast, these twins always had him on the run!

To say that Ben did not sleep well that night would be an understatement. He had to make conscious efforts to keep his erotic thoughts away and, with the metal case tight round his dick, that was difficult. Always there was an undercurrent of delicious pain-pleasure which he had to keep damped-down, and there were times when he was writhing in pain – silent pain, because he didn't want to find out what would happen if he woke his twin-masters.

When drifting off into uneasy sleep, there were troubled dreams – slaveboy dreams...

It was a bleary-eyed Ben, then, that was woken with a slap on his rump – and given disturbing new instructions.

A short while later Ben is in the garden explaining to the cameras what he is doing.

"Sirs, I've been told to cut these switches from the willow hedge... As you can see, I'm stripping them down very carefully because my cous- er, my masters have pointed out it's to my advantage to make them as smooth as possible. This is because they're uh, they're gonna hit me with them." Ben swallowed.

`They will hit me with them.' Scary. Exciting. Why exciting? What was exciting about being switched? What would it feel like, to have this striping into his flesh? Ben ran his fingers along the wood – then bent over in pain as the iron maiden reminded him that erotic thoughts hurt!

"Uh, sorry, Sirs. So, I've been told to cut a lot of them, no less than three feet long. They've said I'd better cut a lot, `cos if they run out, they'll use something worse. They said I've gotta do all this before breakfast. They told me I've gotta tell you what I think about this."

"To be honest, Sirs, I just don't know. I've had to admit that spanking turns me on – I don't know why – there seems to be something about the sting that makes the erection all the more bitter-sweet. But if they're gonna hit me hard with these, I'm scared that the hurt will be too much."

"And now I have to soak them in this water-butt and get breakfast ready before they come downstairs. Good-bye, Sirs."

Blessed relief at breakfast – the twins removed the iron maiden, and Ben's erection sprang gloriously, needfully, free. But there was a payback. Of course!

While the twins ate their breakfast as normal, Ben was on his knees under the table, lapping away at their groins. Enthusiastically. Because they'd told him he'd get to cum today if he performed to their satisfaction. A dying man in the desert couldn't have drunk at the oasis more fervently than Ben tongued their cocks!

Back into the iron maiden, bowl of muesli on the floor, clearing up breakfast, while the twins popped next door. They returned soon after, clipped something to the cameras, checked their phones, triumphantly told Ben that he was now recording live. "From now on, Benny, you must ensure you are recording yourself all the time. No down time, no hidden places – all the time – got that?"

Live!

Ben regarded the cameras warily.

Live!

His world was ever more closely resembling a goldfish bowl; his dignity, his privacy stripped away, layer by layer. Every single second of his life was exposed to the gaze of – who? Who was watching him? He wasn't even told that. He did know it was hundreds. Hundreds of anonymous eyes scrutinising his every move. All the time. All – the – fucking – time.

Here was proof of his status, if confirmation were needed. No choice. The twins ordered – he obeyed – whatever it was. However painful. However humiliating. Proof of his status. Slaveboy.

Ben doubled up, grimacing, as his erection slammed against the spikes - fortunately the twins had mercy on him to the extent of removing it before leading him into the garden.

Ben fastened the ankle weights as ordered, then slid his hands into the boxing gloves. The twins taped the Velcro tabs down so that Been couldn't pull them off with his teeth. A strange move; they placed a brick into the curl of the glove and taped it round and round until it became an integral part of the glove. Both hands done, they made him step into a circle of rope on the ground, about five feet in diameter, while they recovered the willow switches from the butt, swishing them experimentally.

Ben watched apprehensively as the spraying water-drops glinted in the morning sunshine.

"This is simple, Ben. Don't touch the rope, don't move out of the circle, defend yourself by warding off the switches. The harder you work, the fewer times will the switches land on you – great motivation, see?"

Ben smiled wryly, swallowed nervously, shifted awkwardly. Rick was already squaring up to him, although Rad was still adjusting one of the cameras. As Rick circled round him, so Ben turned to keep him in centre-view. Rick raised his switch, swished it a couple of times, brought it down to hit Ben across the chest. Instinctively, Ben raised his left arm to block the hit, and the switch struck his glove with a dull thud.

"Yeah, you got it, Ben," smiled Rick, and did a back-hander aimed at Ben's right thigh, to be fended off by Ben's right glove.

Moving his hands was a little difficult because the weight of the brick taped to the glove made judgement harder, but this was actually something like fun! There was exercise here, and challenge – and Ben, always pleased to be in a situation where he looked good without appearing to show off, knew that he was presenting a good picture to the cameras.

Rick did a quick forehand then backhand, but each time Ben was able to fend off the blows. He grinned.

His muscles bunched and gleamed in the sun, the corded sinews on his delts clenching beautifully under the skin, his abs and pecs twisting and curling in an intensely erotic spectacle. Ben's body was itself aware of the eroticism – his erection bobbed in the sunshine. Rick aimed his switch at that hard bouncing flesh – to be fended off once more.

This was fun!

Not for long.

Swipptht!' as a switch hisses through the air. Thwackckck!' as it lands on flesh. "Aaaaaaaaaaagh!" a yelp of pain and shock as a line of fire burns across Ben's sinewy shoulderblades!

Idiot! Of course! What on earth did he think Rad would be doing while he was busy fending off Rick?!

He swung round to face this new tormentor – and Rick promptly got in a nasty swipe across those unprotected glutes.

Ben swung one way, then half back again, as he realised that a frantic `weather-cocking' between the two would be fruitless, working to keep them both in view, warding off the switches as they hissed towards him.

Now it was much more challenging! It was hard to tell exactly where the blow was going to fall – and with a flick of the wrist the twins could change direction at the last moment in a manner that was more challenging for Ben's weight-laden arms. As many times as he brushed a switch aside, an increasing number of strikes were hitting home – as witnessed by the growing number of thin red tram-lines tracking across his flesh.

Despite his athleticism, Ben was panting with effort now, and the pain of the switch-stings was building – and yet there was an intense erotic challenge that made it still innately exciting. His erection was bouncing to and fro with his movements – providing an amusing target for the twins; and despite Ben's best efforts, they managed to land a welt from time to time on the straining bulge!

A dance was developing: the twins would attempt to work behind Ben; he would back up to keep them both in view; as they worked too far behind him for that to be possible, he swung swiftly through a hundred and eighty degrees to face them again. Swift as he was, inevitably this was an `open season' moment, when it was very difficult to prevent the switches landing wherever the twins wanted. Then he would back up as they tried to work round him again, requiring the turn when Ben ran out of space.

Sure, it was hurting. But it was also challenging, exciting – a raw visceral savagery that awoke primitive fight-for-survival instincts inside him. Some viewers might have found Ben's savage bared-teeth grin surprising – but not those who understood the deeper compulsions of masochism, of which the young athlete was becoming dimly aware.

A timer pinged. The twins stepped back, Ben sank to the ground, panting, recognising that this was a rest rather than completion.

"Got the picture now, Ben? Work or hurt – it's that easy."

Ben's lip curled. "Yeah, easy for you, hard for me."

Rad's eyebrow lifted. "Hey, don't get smart, wiseguy – you've gotta long way to go yet."

Sure enough, the timer pinged again, and Ben sprang to his feet, guessing (correctly!) that he wouldn't get any warning before the twins renewed their onslaught. The short break had given attackers and defender a nice `breather', but it benefited the twins more than Ben, in that his arm muscles had not been properly rested before being taxed again.

Nevertheless Ben – that superb athlete – determinedly swung into action, fighting off the twins as best he could. The sweat was running now – over the muscle-writhing torso, running over tram-welts appearing with increasing regularity over his whipped flesh. Sweat was also running into his eyes, but he dared not waste too much time wiping it away with the back of his forearm – a moment's relaxation of the guard meant more welts...

But the sweat in the eyes caused a problem with his vision. He felt his foot kick the rope circle delineating his allowed area of movement; too late he drew it back.

"You should listen better, Benny. OK, kneel, chest on the ground, knees tucked under you – no, tighter than that – OK, now spread'em – no, wide – no, dipshit, wider than that – wide as you can – OK, now hold that."

What a sight for the viewers! Thighs and torso straining, as his butt trembles high in the air.

Rad sizes up, takes aim...

Swipptht!' Thwackckck!' "Aaaaaaaaaaagh!" Ben writhes over into a heap as he tries to process the pain – the switch landed direct in his ass-crack, swiping across his anus, the end biting into his perineum perilously close to his balls!

Rad is kneeling, looking into Ben's eyes. "D'you get it now, dipshit? Don't touch the rope! OK, get back up, you're wasting time!"

The twins show no mercy as Ben scrambles to his feet, getting some good whacks in even before their slaveboy has recovered his defensive position, and then continuing to rain blows down, getting more of them past the defences now.

Just that one swipe across his anus – still stinging – was a game-changer. It's made Ben think much more carefully about the rope-circle – but in order to keep account of that, he has less attention for warding off all the other switch-blows. More are getting through his defences; more welts are appearing all over his body; more yelps of pain are forced past his lips.

The timer pings, he sinks gratefully to the ground, the timer pings again ridiculously soon, the twins manage again to swipe some blows down even before he's got to his feet again, raising his weary arms. The sweat is running freely now, down his body, dripping off his hair, stinging his eyes. Even so, he catches sight of Rad kicking at the rope with a foot.

Shit! They are reducing the size of the rope-circle!

Now it's even more difficult. He has to concentrate even more to avoid fouling the rope, and that makes him more vulnerable to the vicious stinging switches. Avoid fouling the rope!

In vain. He steps on it again.

"Kneel on the ground, dipshit. No, shit-for-brains, the way we told you before – for fuck sake!"

Butt trembling – perched in the air – Rad taking aim...

Swipptht!' Thwackckck!' "Aaaaaaaaaaagh!" Ben collapses, writhing, eyes tearing.

Another whack from the switch on his back, another yelp. "Who told you to move, you stupid fuck? Get back up there!"

Oh, fuck.

Wearily, Ben struggles back into the position they demand. Without a hint of protest, without a thought of disobeying. In just a few days, an athletic jock is transformed into slave!

Rick is taking aim...

Swipptht!' Thwackckck!' "Aaaaaaaaaaagh!" The hurt is as devastating as before, the sting gnawing at his anal hole.

The switches stinging his back tell him to defend himself once more...

The twins are breathing more heavily now, but Ben is panting, gasping for breath. The switches whistle through the air, more often landing on his flesh now than warded off by the gloves. Ben's flesh is covered – literally covered – with thin weals; not one square inch below the neck is left unmarked. Welts cross over welts – a patchwork of pain decorates his torso and limbs. His arm muscles are steel wires under the skin – the delt cords standing out in ridges, mirroring his taut triceps, while his biceps are pumped bulges.

The timer pings. He sinks to the ground, arms and legs trembling, chest heaving for air.

Rad taps him under the chin with the switch to make him look up.

"There's just one way to stop this, Benny. Tell `em" Rad gestures at the camera, "Tell them all you're a cocksucker."

Ben's eyes close in despair. He can't! He just can't! But he can't go on either.

He swallows. He looks at Rad. Please-don't-make-me-say-it. A grim stare is the only reply.

Oh shit.

He swallows again. Moistens his lips, opens his mouth...

The timer pings.

"Oh shit, no, wait a –"

Too late! The twins swipe the switches through the air, sting into his aching back and butt, as he struggles to his feet to protect himself.

But, fit as he is, Ben is now too tired to put up anything more than a half-hearted defence. The switches hurt more than ever, but his arm muscles just will not obey his brain properly any more. He staggers in a circle, steps on the rope again.

Down on the grass, three vicious bites across his anus this time.

"Please – please – I'll say anything you w–"

But the timer is still going, so the twins lay into him again. Even without Peebles' advice, they know instinctively that, once they have laid out a situation to Ben, they must adhere to its conditions – relax them now, and Ben will know that he has room for negotiation.

Here, there is no room for negotiation. It doesn't matter what he says, what he begs, the timer is still going, so the switches gnaw into him once more.

Yelps, groans, whimpers – and now tears.

No matter – the timer is still going, so the switches carry on!

At last the timer pings again.

Desperate, Ben turns to the camera, kneels, fights through gasping breath, "OK ... OK ... I'm a ... cocksucker ... OK? ... I'm a ... cocksucker".

But apparently this is no longer enough.

"Tell them, Benny – tell them you like sucking cock. Tell them you want to suck all of their cocks."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

But he can't take the risk. The timer will ping again soon!

"Uh, I like sucking cock, Sirs. I want to suck yours. All of you watching, I'd love to suck you off."

A couple of biting swipes into his back. He yelps and writhes.

"Convince them, Benny! Make them believe it!"

Shit, shit, shit.

On his haunches, he looks up into the camera, tears running down his face.

"Please Sirs, I'm begging you, begging you – let me suck you off, please let me, oh please, I'll do anything if you let me be your cocksucker - anything."

Ben's beaten-down body is sending aching messages of pain to his brain. His muscles are quivering with exhaustion. He's just had to admit something that any self-respecting jock would die rather than say. His humiliation is complete. He is lower than low.

And yet ... and yet.

Ben's tears run afresh when he sees, unaccountably, his dick rising once more...

============================================================

Apologies – I'm not going to be able to maintain the current `production rate'. I've tried to keep up to one chapter a week, but that is making me rush at times, and is affecting the quality of writing such as it is. I'm still intending to write regularly, but the frequency will be reduced – apologies.

But a continuing thank you for the encouraging comments received so far (which act as a very good stimulus to continue what is proving to be a time-consuming activity!) – please keep them going! In particular, thank you to Harry for his invaluable imagination and advice. Thank you also to those who are providing pix and vid-links to relevant material – it's a most helpful impetus to keep the story going!

I hope you enjoy this episode! StrictSafeTop sst@linuxmail.org

As always, Nifty can do with donations: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html if you enjoy the service and want it to continue ad-free!

All the normal caveats apply regarding fantasy versus reality – for instance some of the practices described would NOT be safe in real life. Similarly, in real life, if we are lucky enough to come across good bdsm playmates, we should value and respect them – they are not always that easy to find!

This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or living persons is coincidental. Personal experiences, from images to events, memories and words, flavour my writing, and while elements of this story may be (and often are) based in fact, the characters are entirely fictional. Unprotected sex is depicted. In real life, be safe! Don't gamble. If it is illegal for you to read this story because of your age, location or any other reason, don't read it. This work is copyright by the author. Commercial use without permission is prohibited. Please do not republish any of this story without consent of the author.