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Teen idol stripped
by Jackson Amacher
If you read the teen magazines as much as my sister does, you would know that once-famous teen idol Charlie Wild is attending Stanford University right now. You remember his show: he played a teenager in the sixties, going first through middle school and then high school, never attending class but always dating and going to dances. Everyone knows that. What you probably don't know is that he is an asshole, that he lives in my freshman dorm, and that I'm a bondage freak with a taste for revenge.
I won't get into everything the little shit did. Let's just say that after years of being told he was God he started believing it, and thinking that with 20 million hormonal girls screaming every time he took his shirt off in a locker room scene on his (now canceled) TV show he didn't have to treat the ones he met here responsibly. Besides that, he's conceited as hell. He hurt some people I'm close to very much, and I decided to get back at him.
Two weeks ago, Sunday, he got out of his room - he's the only freshman at Stanford to have a single - and went to take a shower. We have one bathroom on the entire floor. The floors are single-sex, alternating with each floor. He only took a towel and a small bathroom kit with him, which held his keys. He always wore a bathrobe.
It was too easy. As soon as he went in there, I snatched away his bathroom kit, bathrobe, and keys. He couldn't see me. The bathroom stall door is made of steel, and he only had his towel hung over it. I snuck out of the bathroom with his stuff and hid it in my room, two floors above. I took his room key off his key ring and hid it in my desk, taking the rest of the ring down to the first floor.
I stood in the bathroom, pretending to brush my teeth. It only took a few minutes for him to crack open the door and reach for the shampoo and find that it wasn't there. I saw the towel disappear into his stall, and Charlie emerged with it wrapped around his waist.
Jesus, he was hot. Some people are just born with it. His pecs were incredibly cute; not body-builder huge, but big enough to remind you he was a man. His abs weren't a perfect six-pack, but there was a small ridge running from his neck down to his towel that betrayed no fat and lots of adorable skin and muscle.
His face was also cute, especially with that confused look. "What the hell?," he asked to no one in particular, and his bare shoulders shrugged.
I finished my tooth brushing, spat into the sink, rinsed, and spat again. "Looking for these?," I asked, dangling his key ring in front of him.
"You asshole!," he shouted, and lunged for them.
I pulled the keys back towards me and stepped out into the hallway. He followed me, hesitating for a second before entering the hallway, but then perhaps remembering that he had already shown his naked chest to 50 million TV households. He'd be showing a lot more soon.
"Just kidding," I said. "Just a joke. Here, catch!" I tossed them at him, up in the air. For one critical second, his hands left his towel to catch the keys. Mine shot down to his waist, grabbed, and snapped the terrycloth from his body.
Charlie jerked his hands down, trying to stop me, but he was too late. The keys fell to the tile hallway, making a loud jingling sound. Charlie covered his penis with his hands, and bent his knees slightly. "You freaking pervert!," he shouted.
"Freaking." The little PG matinee starlet said "freaking." I was loving every second of it. By now I was standing about ten feet away from him, two steps up the stairs, the towel safely out of his reach.
He stood there for a while longer: wet, shivering, humiliated, furious, and trying to cover himself. Then he turned around, bent down, and grabbed the keys off the floor. He started to run towards me, but when I held the towel far away from him he gave up and continued running past me, as fast as he could, towards his room.
I heard the keys jingling, as Charlie realized I had removed his room key. "FUCK!," he shouted, a lot louder than was smart.
I started trotting up the stairs towards my third-floor room again. I heard some seriously loud banging downstairs; it sounded like someone trying to break a door down. I stashed Charlie's towel under my bed, stuffed a few items into my back pocket, and calmly walked back to the ground floor to see how Charlie was doing.
He had given up on trying to get back into his room, and was pounding on other guys' doors in the hallway. The first door he tried was a double, shared by two football players, Chad and Brent. Chad opened the door to see Charlie bare-ass naked, and he laughed.
"Shut the fuck up and let me inside!," Charlie shouted at him. But Chad - and, if I had calculated correctly, everyone on this floor - hated Charlie as much as I did.
"No way, Chuck," Chad said, smiling. "Hey Brent!," he shouted over his shoulder. "Come see this!"
Charlie ran away, furious, and started pounding on other doors. Either this guy was eager to get the entire dorm out of their rooms to check out his pubes, or he thought he had a lot more friends than he did. The entire hallway turned him flat down. Some of them made some phone calls.
After about ten minutes of this, there were eight guys on his floor leering at him and a couple girls from the second floor leaning over the stairway railing with big smiles on their faces. Flushed and utterly humiliated, Charlie had one hand over his dick (kind of) and another on his ass and he walked over to me. "Fucking give me my key back!," he shouted.
"Say 'please,'" I said.
"Please," he said.
"Very good. Now turn around, hold your hands behind your back, and I'll give it to you."
A lot of computer users and audiophiles are frustrated by the mess of cables that build up behind their systems. Hardware stores offer a cheap solution: plastic cable ties, 100 for $5, that can securely tie cables together. These things are great: they tighten quickly, with a single pull, and can never be untightened. Only cut.
I don't know if he was really expecting the key, but the boy wonder did as he was told. Grabbing both hands behind his back, I slipped a cable tie over them and pulled tight. Instant reaction: he howled. The guys laughed from their doorways. Then I pulled a blindfold out of my pocket, and put it on him, too.
"My room is number 305, Charlie, third floor," I said. "Follow me."
When I was in high school and Charlie's show was on the air, I remember I watched an episode once because the promos showed Charlie with his shirt off. In the actual episode, his shirt was off for three seconds. The network was always teasing you like that; they could never get their starlets to show much more without paying a lot more in the contract, I guess. But now, Charlie was treating a lot of people to a much better view. I think his humiliation was made worse by not being able to see all the smiling, taunting faces watching his every move. Holding his shoulder, I led him up to my third-floor suite. As I walked in front of him, people applauded me and whistled at my catch.
He came into my room, and I shut the door. "If you want this to end fast, do what I say," told him.
My camera came out. I used up a full roll of film on my unwilling, bound subject. I think he started to cry. He was all mine now. I untied his hands, and made him do some more poses while I shot another role. Slowly, he got an erection. That gave me an idea.
"You want these to get out?," I asked. "Teen magazines? Playgirl? The Internet?"
He shook his head, "No."
"Then you know what I want."
He was mine; his gorgeous, late-adolescent body was all there. I walked around his naked body a few times, trying to increase his discomfort, and then reached out and softly started to stroke his nipples. He jerked back at first, realizing what was going to happen, but he didn't resist. His cock was now fully erect, and dripping slightly. Hey, who knew?
I squirted some lube onto my other hand, and started rubbing it on his hole. This took him by surprise; it was for real now. He started to jerk away from me, but I grabbed him, put him down on the bed, and tied his hands to the bedposts. He gave out a little yelp when I first penetrated him, but then started groaning softly as I pounded into him for a good twenty or thirty minutes. It was great for me: I had stripped and humiliated someone who had been taunting me and millions of people with his sex for years, and now he was mine.
When I was done, I got up, shot some more photos of him like that, and got dressed. He was still blindfolded, but he could hear me. "Where are you going?," he asked, all authority out of his voice.
"I'm hungry," I said. "Sit tight."
I opened the door and walked out, and went to eat some lunch. I came back, maybe an hour later, and found my little toy still tied to the bed. I untied him and took off the blindfold. He looked at me for a second, and then kissed me, long and hard in the mouth. I winked at him and gave him back his towel and room key.