Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. All names, places and descriptions are purely fictional, and are not based on any real person, living or dead. Please leave now if you are underage, or dislike vivid descriptions of sexual activity between dominant men and a submissive teenage boy.
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Gay - Authoritarian: M+/t oral anal
Submissive Dick - Part 3
Before drifting off to sleep, I tested my restraints several times. Stan had done a good job of tying me up, so there was very little chance of the anal hook doing any damage. If my knees did give way overnight, the ropes looped under my armpits and across my chest would ensure that I didn't drop an inch.
My rape fantasy had taken me down a dark and dangerous road. A simple role-play scenario had turned into a real-world nightmare. I was now a sex-slave, tied up in a barn and held, like a piece of meat, by a metal hook.
In the morning, I woke up seconds before the zapper touched my skin. An excruciating pain shot through my entire body as the gadget was switched on. The rope gag in my mouth muffled my cries as I rattled around in my bonds. I was wide awake now, and screaming into my gag.
"This is your early morning wake up call, sir," said Clay. "We need you to be wide awake for the training session."
I began to see stars as Stan removed the first of my rope restraints.
"Welcome to Birch Arse Farm, sir," continued Clay. "The sign on the gate reads Birch Wood Farm, but that's a mistake. Now, we hope your stay with us will be an unpleasant one. A slave of sir's potential will quickly come to see how good we are at dominating the weak."
I tossed my head back as Clay zapped my right nipple. There was real fear in my eyes as Stan removed another rope. The two men, who were both stark-bollock-naked, continued to remove my restraints and zap my body. Clay gut-punched me when Stan tossed the anal hook and handcuffs aside.
"Stand up straight, boy," ordered Clay. "Put your hands behind your head and spread your legs."
A few seconds later, Stan was fucking me.
I bit on my gag as the pace of the man's fucking increased. Time and time again his rigid cock plunged deep into my burning hole. I just stood there and suffered the abuse. The men were out to break me, and build an obedient slave, so there was nothing I could do to stop the onslaught. Tears ran down my cheeks as I tried desperately to cope with the pain and stress.
Stan's cock felt really big. In and out it went, like a steam piston. I so wanted him to shoot his load and toss me aside; however, when he locked my head and shoulders in a full nelson I knew that he was there for the long haul. I began to fixate on the rhythmic push and pull on my arsehole. And much to my surprise, the pain began to subside as I warmed to the sensation.
"He looks real pliable, Stan," said Clay. "So don't you go breaking him."
"Yep, he feels real accommodating," replied Stan, as he lifted me slightly off the concrete floor.
The man fucked me relentlessly. He fucked me off the floor for a time; on the floor for a time; and then shunted me round in a complete circle. My whole body ached - the powerful fucking and my overnight stance in restraints were taking their toll on my "accommodating" body. However, my hips continued to move back and forth in time with the man's rhythmic thrusts. I then heard grunting and felt the tell-tale signs of an impending climax.
"Wow! What a rush!" yelled Stan. "The boy's fuckin' ace!"
We both began to pant and breath heavily. My once tight arse-muscles were twitching away like crazy. Stan's spunk was flooding into my inner sanctum as my cock shed its seed over the cold, concrete floor.
"What a sight!" exclaimed Clay. "What a fuckin' glorious sight. Give that man a medal."
The horse trough was long and wide, so it could easily accommodate my puny body. The ice-cold water sent my senses into meltdown - I lost all control over my shuddering body. The two men had a lot of fun cleaning me up with carbolic soap and yard brooms. They had carried me out of the barn between them, like a sack of potatoes, and plonked me in the trough. I didn't know what was coming, so I nearly blacked out when I hit the ice-cold water.
"Scrub-a-dub-dub, you're lying in the tub," sang Clay, as he pushed my head under the water with a broom. "Scrub-a-dub-dub, you're drowning in the tub."
Clay and Stan kept me in the trough for a bloody long time. I was in shock when they finally dragged me out and carried me back to the barn. I then spent an age on a bed of straw-bales, with only a horse blanket for company.
I knew I was being tested - I was on my own in the barn, with no restraints to keep me put. The barn doors were open and the sound of birds could be heard outside. The two men were probably waiting for me by the horse trough, ready to pounce on their runaway slave. However, the dozy teenager, who had thought it was a good idea to be 'raped' by Harry and Tom, was actually weighing up the odds of a getaway. I was in three minds: stay put and suffer months of torment in the barn; be clever and duck out the back door, if there was one, and head for the hills in the nude; stay put and suffer months of torment in the barn, whilst enjoying the sex. Decisions, decisions, decisions.
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