The Rescue

This is my second submission to Nifty. It's another two-part story. Parts Five through Seven (conclusion) follow.

Thanks to all who enjoyed my previous story "Chained." This one is set mostly at a college and concerns a curious and violent triangle -- a stepfather, stepson, and cousin. Like "Chained," this has lots of S&M (bondage, discipline, training, spanking, pervy corruption, watersports, cigars, etc.) and maybe even a little love. I hope you like reading it as much I liked writing it!

Please don't read if you're underage or troubled by "bad thoughts" about your gay impulses. Crazy Christians, at least pretend to resist.

COPYRIGHT 2007 reserved to the author. Feel free to download for your personal reading pleasure, but please refrain from any other uses or republication in any format without contacting the author first.

Send email, appreciative or otherwise, to dogeboy2@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading.

THE RESCUE

PART FIVE

"You're learning pretty well," Greg said to me a few weeks after this -- and after a number of other incidents between us, all directed by him in the interest of what he called my "real education."

He was smoking a cigar and making a show of blowing big rings into the air. Some of them he aimed at my face. I'd learned it was best to let him do it without making a fuss, even if the smoke got in my mouth or eyes. When he did it last week and I complained, he grabbed me, sat me on his lap, and methodically singed off some of the (few) hairs on my nipples. He also ran the glowing end over my nipple, just enough to send a shiver -- part fear, part excitement -- over me. But I think he reached his limit there because he didn't hold it on my nipple and burn it deep, like I was afraid he would.

"You know I'm your boss," he continued, smiling while he watched the rings rise and fade into the air. "And you've started to respond like you should. Are you still thinking a lot about women?"

"No," I said quietly, looking up at him. It was true. I was losing my feeling for women. I was lying on his bed now, naked. Greg was standing over me with his belt in his hand. He had just finished fucking me for the second time that morning, and he was playing with a condom, blowing it up like a balloon and grinning as he let the air out slow, like a little kid might.

"Good, that means things are smoothing out," he said, "and we won't have to play the kinds of games we were playing. Do you love me, cousin?"

"I guess so," I said, more numb than anything.

"Guess so? I love you, you know. I love you, James, love you." He was standing over me, stroking my head now like you'd do to a fvorite pet. "The one thing I feel bad about," he said, sitting next to me and running his fist across my mouth, "is your stepdad. I can't get it out of my mind. I feel like he's responsible for a lot of your problems."

"Problems?"

"Your fear about taking the steps you were obviously meant to take."

"You mean getting involved with you?"

"Yes."

"You think I was meant to be with you?"

"Yes. Only he has spoiled some of our smooth fun. I know he hurt you, and it's on my mind."

"You think so?" I said, tired and nervous but eager to hear his theory about all these strange developments. I didn't want to say "You've hurt me too, Greg," but it crossed my mind.

"I do think so," he said. "You followed a really bad example with Carl, but at least it was only part way. I hate a hypocrite. He screws around all the time, then pretends to be all respectable. You must have known about that for a long time, because you were copying him, acting like a mindless fuckhound. You were competing with him, I think, and trying to get his attention."

I thought about this. "He called me that too, a fuckhound."

"Well, you see how easy it was to turn you around."

"Easy?" I repeated, closing my eyes but listening carefully to Greg's words.

"I bet I could do the same thing to Carl."

"What do you mean?"

"James, I want to fuck Carl, rape him, teach his ass a lesson. Make him sorry for hurting you and for being such a lousy excuse for a father."

I was surprised and shocked to hear Greg say this, and thought it might be better if perhaps he found some other outlet for his aggressions. I was afraid enough of Greg, but the two of them together --

I decided it was best to change the subject to the one I knew he'd respond to. I watched him wave the cigar at me with a grin, then put it out.

"Why don't you just get on top of me and fuck me again?" I said, putting my head in his lap and then sucking on the head of his dick. I didn't know if it was Greg's power, or something he saw in me, but in only a few weeks, yielding had become a necessity, even though it also made me queasy, even sick on some level. And he was right, somehow, despite my disgust, it at least seemed to be getting easier all the time.

He watched me intently as I sucked on his dickhead for a few minutes. It was slick with my spit and throat juice and he pulled it out. I looked up at him puzzled.

"I'm serious, James. We could do it. You're strong, if I tell you to be. We could lure him over here, get him drunk, bind that fucker and nail him. Don't you want to pay him back?"

"I don't know. It doesn't sound right. I know he's not related to us -- only by marriage. And he's as stubborn as you are. Plus, he could cause you real trouble."

"I don't think so," Greg said. "I'm younger and stronger than he is -- in every way. Look at these arms. I could squeeze his fucking head in here. Anyway he'd never tell. Can you see him calling the cops and saying he'd been raped? No way. Don't you want to get back at him?"

"Maybe you're right," I agreed, remembering Carl's many past crimes against me. "He's been on my case all my life, hurt me plenty. I guess I wouldn't mind seeing you do the bastard in. But can't we just get together and tell him what an asshole we both think he is?"

Greg walked across the room and took a large black dildo from his closet. He stuck it in my mouth and I began sucking it, wetting it good as he had taught me. Then he inserted it pretty far up into my ass and I put my legs up in the air and squirmed to take it all. I was lucky now -- I didn't bleed like I did at first.

Without a word, Greg climbed onto the bed and lowered himself onto my face. I began loudly sucking his ass, which from his grunts I knew he was enjoying, then I licked the curling black hairs that grew around and inside it.

"I want that bastard's ass," Greg said quietly. "And you do too." He ran his hand over my chest as he squatted down on my face like it was a chair. Then he groaned.

PART SIX

Greg phoned my stepdad while I lay reading a magazine on his bed.

"I'd like you to come over and visit, Sir," he said, in a respectful voice. "I want you to see that I'm making a man out of your boy. I've about broken him of those bad habits we discussed. No, he's not catting around at all. You'd be very surprised."

I hadn't seen my parents in weeks, and wondered how I might show Carl my new self, a self they couldn't have foreseen and that I wasn't sure of myself. Greg seemed unconcerned.

"He seems happy, as much as you can read the guy. He's pretty backward emotionally."

"That's true," I said.

"I have to piss," he said, offhand. He pulled me onto the floor, onto my knees, and put his "hose" into my mouth as he called it, pumping my stomach full. This was another of the "tricks" he taught me, which I had grown to accept. It was hard to explain, but the thought of fucking girls not only had lost its interest, it seemed like an impossible idea, part of someone else's past, not mine. Why would I, when I felt more secure now with Greg, even to the point of drinking his piss, getting knocked around, whipped, fucked? This was real. I was used to submitting now. It seemed somehow right to me, and Greg knew it.

"You know the plan," he said, shaking the last few yellow drops onto my tongue.

I nodded. Maybe it would be good to get revenge. And Greg was right -- Carl would never complain. How could he? How could he tell the world what had happened to him? He wasn't the type, any more than I was.

I left the room a few minutes before Carl was set to arrive. I knew what a fetish for punctuality he had, so there was no chance of crossing his path before that. I was to re-enter the room an hour after he arrived. That would give Greg enough time to get him drunk, as he had me.

Greg told me later that Dad initially resisted the idea of drinking, but after a five-minute talk about sports, he loosened up enough to have "just one," which was followed by several more in quick succession. When I arrived, my stepdad was staring bleary-eyed at me. He looked as mean as usual, but a little dazed.

"Son," he said in a slurred voice. I looked around and saw that Greg had removed his shirt and pants and was wearing only a pair of flimsy speedos. His thick cock was clearly visible through them, along with the black curling hairs of his crotch, and I watched his big balls move as he walked across the room.

"It's hot in here," I said. Greg had closed the windows to heighten this effect.

"It is," Carl said. He had unbuttoned his dress shirt and his undershirt was soaked through.

"Let's have a drink to celebrate my boy's . . . redemption," Carl said, again slurring his words and looking more in my direction now than actually at me.

"Let's," Greg said, shoving another drink into my Dad's hand.

"Can't we open a goddamned window? Is there some law?" he said in his grating middle-aged voice.

"Why don't you take off your shirt, we're all men here," Greg said in a cool tone.

"Yes, Father, we're all men here," I said, moving closer to him.

"I don't need any help," he said, suddenly surly. "I hear you've stopped wasting all your time and my money and you're finally getting yourself a goddamned education."

"That's right, Sir," I said.

"He's doing very well," Greg said. "You should be proud."

Carl was having trouble unbuttoning his shirt and Greg walked over and just ripped it off him. Instead of getting angry, which I was sure would happen, Carl for some reason started laughing. I didn't realize how different he would be when he was drunk.

"Screw it!" he said. He stood up and managed to roll his undershirt up to his chest, and I saw Greg admiring my stepdad's physique. I felt like he was mentally comparing the two of us. Greg looked at me, narrowing his eyes and nodding.

I stood up and came at Carl from behind, pushing him face down on the bed.

He let out a little sound, kind of a whistle, then a grunt, looking around at me as Greg sprang into action. In what seemed like only seconds Greg had slapped a piece of duct tape on Carl's mouth and tied his hands behind his back. Then Greg tied his legs to the bed, so he couldn't move too well. Suddenly I felt frightened to be in this room cooperating with my cousin in assaulting my stepfather.

"Pull his pants down, James," Greg said with a smile that was close to a scowl.

I hesitated and looked at Greg. He nodded forcefully and I obeyed, yanking Carl's pants down and exposing his firm, strong middle-aged ass. Then, positioning myself squarely in front of him, I got on my knees and Greg walked over and pulled down his speedos and stuck his cock in my mouth. I began to suck hard while Carl watched us with piercing eyes, as if he couldn't quite figure out what was happening. Greg calmly put his hands behind my head and worked it methodically up and down, and he stared at Carl like a scientist gauging the reactions of an animal to some lab experiment.

In spite of his drunkenness, Carl was thrashing about on the bed like a hooked fish, moving first back and forth, then up and down in an effort to free himself. The drunkenness seemed to fade, and I saw enormous agitation and anger on his face. I had never seen (or imagined I would see) him in such a frenzy.

Greg then pulled me off my knees and bent me over. Grinning broadly at our guest, Greg positioned his dick at my ass and plunged it in. He began to slowly fuck me. I ground my ass against him with the loving deliberation of a whore, just like Greg instructed me to do, and I wondered what thoughts were going through Carl's head just then.

Greg could fuck for a long time without coming, and I knew he was not going to come in my ass. Instead, he pulled out. He climbed onto Carl's back and lay tight on top of him. Carl bucked but Greg held on tight. In one scary motion Greg shoved his dick up Carl's ass and began to thrust hard. A shiver of nerves hit me as I watched Carl clearing trying to tighten his ass to force the dick out, but Greg held firm and slapped Carl's ass and continued to hammer away. Carl's hands reached the bedposts and held them tight, his knuckles reddening with the pressure. Greg was fucking him so hard there were sloppy smacking noises each time he plunged it in.

Part of the scenario Greg had arranged was for me to take the tape off Carl's mouth and stick my dick there, but he said not to do it if Carl was making too much noise, or if I couldn'th andle it. "Only if it's obvious I'm breaking him," Greg said. Carl had to show compliance and interest and then I could act. Greg didn't want me "damaged" if Carl was too angry or freaked out. My stepdad continued to fight, and I was afraid he might bite me.

So I contented myself with standing next to the bed playing with my dick, and occasionally playing with Carl's, something I had always wanted to do. Meanwhile, Greg continued to violently fuck him. I was surprised to see that Carl had a hard-on. (In a later calm moment I was sure he would have said it was "just a physical reaction" that "meant nothing.")

While ramming away, Greg began kissing Carl's neck and twisting his nipples. At one point I thought Dad had crossed a line and was beginning to thrust his hips up against Greg, maybe begging for it the way I'd learned to, but both their movements were so agitated I couldn't say for sure. Greg's big arms were wrapped around Carl's waist, and he could have been pulling Carl up and down. I knew Greg was going to come inside him, and he did, with a sudden deep animal cry.

Afterward, there was little conversation. Greg pulled the tape off Carl's mouth and looked at him and said simply, "This was for all the harm you've done to James."

Carl said nothing, only looked from me to Greg and back to me with a sort of tense, tired expression.

"What am I supposed to do now?" he finally said, his voice cracking for once.

"I think you better get dressed and go on home," Greg said, lighting a cigar and shrugging at the man he'd just raped. "Don't you have to go to work tomorrow?"

PART SEVEN

Two weeks passed and I received my first quarter's grades. After a slow start I was able to improve, catch up with the rest of my class and, as Greg put it, "tap into a lot of natural intelligence" I had. I was so happy about this I called my mother without thinking.

"James," she said, "I can't believe it. This is some kind of good luck."

"It's not luck, mom, it's me. I guess I'm finally growing up. How's Carl?"

I liked the idea of having a new identity, one that let me be smart and successful and still have a good time, courtesy of Greg. No more "Father" either.

"He's all right. Actually he's been a little quieter than usual lately. I think he's had something on his mind these last weeks. You know how he gets. Wild horses wouldn't get it out of him."

She sounded like she had something on her mind, too -- like she was more tense than usual. I suddenly wondered if Carl had stopped screwing her. Maybe he was too traumatized, I thought. Like I had been.

"Is he here now? I'd like to tell him how well I did."

"I think he'll be happy to know, but no, he isn't here. He said he was going over to visit you. Pay his boys a surprise visit, he said. I've got to run now. Goodbye, honey."

"Goodbye, mom."

I returned to school, trying to figure out why Carl would be visiting us now, after what had happened. I opened the door of our place to see Greg and Carl talking.

"We ran into each other near the football field," Greg said, with his broad grin. "I shouldn't say `ran into.' He came looking for me. And guess what?"

"What?" I said, looking at both of them.

"Tell him," Greg said.

Carl turned from Greg to me and I had never seen him look just so -- sober and sorry at the same time.

"I -- I don't know how to say this son, but -- when that happened the other night -- I was . . . pretty upset at first. I couldn't sleep, it was like I'd been raped. I guess I had. Of course, I was. Raped. I started to think about all the fucking I'd done myself for all those years, and . . . suddenly it was like my whole life didn't matter. I couldn't get it out of my mind, what Greg had said, blaming me for what I did to you. I never thought I did anything but try to guide you out of the same bad habits I had. Maybe I came down on you too hard, yes I know I did -- and Greg told me you knew I was -- doing the same things myself. So I must have come off as a damn hypocrite . . ."

"You were," I said quietly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "But -- "

"I don't know how to say it, son, but I was thinking about what I saw, couldn't believe it, you there, serving your cousin like a little whore, and helping him make me serve him too. I felt like something terrible had happened, but at the same time like I'd let a burden fall off my shoulders. I kept thinking I wanted to talk to your mother about it, but you know how she is."

"You know she'd never understand this," I said, walking over and putting my hand on his shoulder. "Who would? But why are you back here today?"

"I -- it's hard to say, Son, but I felt like I deserved what happened to me. I know now it was wrong what I did -- and I'm back here to -- make it up to you."

Carl took my hand in his and the room was still and for some reason I felt my flesh tingling with some emotion I'd held back that was rising up on its own. My face felt hot. He looked at me as if he were relieved.

"All those fucking bear hugs. . ." I said, shaking and then starting to bawl like a kid. "You don't know how much they hurt me."

Carl looked at me and said quietly, not looking at me. "What if I told you I did it out of love?'

Neither of us said anything for a moment, but Greg's laughter broke the silence and I looked at him. He had his hand on his crotch and was kneading his dick through his shorts.

"Your so-called Dad is now ready -- officially -- to do penance. James, I want you to see him do willingly what he was forced to do the other night."

"I don't know if I want to see it now," I said, in a low voice. Suddenly I felt different, seeing Carl was trying to make peace with me, then seeing him degraded and maybe getting threatened with more.

"I don't like any of this, all of a sudden -- " I said in a quiet voice. "I don't --"

"Remember, it isn't your decision to make," Greg said, conjuring up our mutual history of the last weeks.

Carl looked from Greg to me, then stood up.

"Maybe it wasn't the best idea -- me coming here. I don't want to interrupt. . ."

Greg laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his dick out. I looked at Greg and then at Carl, and wasn't sure what was supposed to happen or what part I -- or for that matter any of us -- played in this drama. We hadn't discussed this. But now I was beginning to feel more relaxed. I had an idea of what I wanted to happen, and Carl seemed to read my mind.

He stood up and put his arm around me.

"Has he hurt you?" Carl said suddenly, in a loud voice. It was less a question to me than a statement to the room. "Did this sonofabitch hurt you, son?"

I looked at Greg, sitting naked on the bed but no longer smiling. He was waiting for one of us -- which one? -- to come and serve him. I thought about the question.

"Yes . . . Dad, he did hurt me," I whispered, afraid to say it too loud. Suddenly I felt relaxed.

"I told him to keep an eye on you. I knew Greg was a serious boy when I first met him. We talked. He agreed to take you under his wing. He would do what I couldn't -- put you on the straight and narrow. That was the agreement, wasn't it, Greg?"

"Agreement," I said, seeing in my mind what they must have discussed in the garage.

"Then you lure me here and show me you've turned my boy into a goddamned whore!"

Greg's lips parted. He started to speak, then stopped, then said in a louder voice than I'd heard him use, "I just brought him to the place he belongs -- with me. James iss mine! I've got my own ways of getting what I want, Carl, just like you do. If they're not to your taste, too fucking bad. James likes them fine, don't you James?"

I looked first at Greg, then at Carl.

"Don't you, James?" Greg repeated, staring into my eyes with a slow smile and putting his hand on my shoulder. In a few seconds he increased the pressure until it started to hurt.

"I don't -- I don't -- "

"James . . ." Greg put both hands around my neck and began pulling me toward him in a bear hug.

"Greg, please," I heard myself saying, thinking it might be somebody else talking. "Please don't . . ."

"That's it!" Carl said. "That's all I need to hear. Let's go," He reached for me with one hand and shoved Greg back with the other.

"Wait!" Greg said.

Carl turned on him with a smile that scared me, and when Greg recovered and walked back toward us, Carl roughly pushed him back onto the bed.

"YOU wait, Greg," he said. "You showed me something the other night. Something I didn't understand at first. You -- broke me. Something now I know I needed. I didn't realize it then, but I needed it. I was on that . . . treadmill. Full of myself and my own needs. Maybe James needed to be there too, and on some level he's probably grateful like me for what you did, but we don't need you now. I don't think you love James, you just want to use him. Do you think I could sleep nights knowing you're beating him and raping him and doing god knows what else? Night after night? I can't let him go down that road with you. I won't let him."

Greg looked up from the bed, his teeth clenched and his powerful hands poised in the air, then balling into fists. Greg was usually calm. I had never seen the kind of agitation in his eyes that I saw now, like he was angry and scared at the same time. He was like a different person than the one whose slave I'd been just a few minutes ago.

He said, "You can't let him stay with me because you want him for yourself. And I'm supposed to sit back and let it happen. I can't do that, Uncle Carl. I love James too. I love him!"

I stood by the door while the two of them went at each other. I was surprised and confused to see two grown men, my cousin and my stepfather, fighting over me. Carl's big fist, which I was aware of almost from the day he married my mom, began to smash Greg down, beating his face until the blood poured down his bull neck and over his strong naked body. I didn't realize Carl was stronger than Greg, but, as he explained to me later, "When there's something you want, something you never realized you had to have, and it's threatened -- you find the strength."

Greg changed quickly from aggressor to victim, holding his big arms in front of him to deflect Carl's rain of blows. I could see clearly, for the first time, the boy Greg was.

When we left, he was sitting on the floor in a pool of blood, coughing a little, his hair matted with blood, his big hands still, then delicately touching the lumps and bruises on his face, as if feeling for damage. He looked up at me as if he wanted to touch me, too.

"James," he said, in a voice cracking with emotion. Mixed with the blood running down from his face I could see tears.

Carl turned on him and said sharply, "Thanks for everything. I appreciate it. But James is mine now. You're never to see him again."

In the car on the way home, Carl held my hand and outlined his plans for me. He wiped my face of its tears. He was so sorry for hurting me all this time. He didn't realize how wrong he had been, how all along we could have been so close.

I was convulsed, couldn't stop crying -- even though I felt calm on some level deep inside, more so than I had felt in years -- until we actually pulled into the driveway. I was thinking of Greg, and wondering if I had done the right thing in leaving him, afraid he might not survive, almost sorry at the thought of how hard it would be for him to find someone he could treat the way he did me who would put up with it and love him back as much. (Unlike Carl, I never doubted that Greg loved me.)

Carl pulled me out of my reverie. He spoke rapidly, as if he were formulating his statements -- his plans for me, really -- as he went along.

I was to continue going to school, he said, but under strict orders must avoid Greg at all times. Greg was not good for me. He had performed a kind of breakthrough in showing me, as Carl said, "who you really are." But Greg was also dangerous, he said -- violent, and cared more for his own pleasure than for my feelings and well-being. "He could have done serious damage to you, son, probably did. We'll work on undoing that."

I stopped crying and asked him if he thought Greg had also "educated" him in some way, and Carl looked at me kind of puzzled at first and then said yes. He realized when he saw me on my knees in front of Greg -- after the initial shock -- that he had wasted a lot of time chasing pussy, when real peace and pleasure could be found right in his own home "with my beautiful boy." He rubbed my head and I flushed with pleasure. Now he was getting emotional; Carl, the man I'd hated so hard for so many years, was now the one crying.

He pulled himself together and explained the plan. "I'll tell your mom that living at school was too much for you. She won't pry." Carl would also get her to enroll in some classes -- a lot of classes (he had no doubt he could convince her to do this) -- so that we could spend more time together and he would try to make up for all the things he had done to me over the years.

"It's okay," he assured me, smiling, looking strong now, almost radiant, his eyes still wet, rubbing my face with his hand. "We're not blood relatives."

I saw Greg a few times on campus, but he looked preoccupied and drawn, not like his former strong self, and he simply turned away whenever he saw me. I wondered how he explained his beating; probably he said nothing. Later that year Mom told me he had dropped out of sports and left school for good. There was some mystery there, she said. Greg never told his parents, and they never told her.

I continued to get good grades, and Mom was very happy because, it seemed, Carl was also, still, fucking her. He said he had planned to continue my education "where Greg left off, but in a loving way," and he was true to his word.

--END--

Please send comments, appreciative or otherwise, to dogeboy2@yahoo.com. Thank you for reading!