Walk in Lies Chapter 11

Sometimes I wallow in the mire and root for garbage. This story might be that.  The following story is for adults and contains graphic descriptions of sexual contact between tweens,  adolescents and adult males. There is, of course, a power imbalance in these varied relationships, and considerations of consent are blurred.

If you are a minor, then it is illegal for you to read this story. If you find the subject objectionable, then read no further. All the characters, events and settings are the product of my overactive imagination. I hope you find it cathartic. Feel free to respond.

If you would like to comment, contact me at eliot.moore.writer@gmail.com.

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(First Edition Posted May, 2007)

Walk in Lies

Keep Things in Control

A rideshare collects the young hookers from the Man’s town house and deposits them at the Sykes’ door just at 8:00 pm. Finn wants to ask Mica questions about their Date, but Bitch-boy points to the driver and shakes his head. Instead, they exchange opinions on gaming systems they have only played at friend’s houses. “Have you ever done that before?” Little-bitch asks once.

“No,” Bitch-boy replies. Mica gathers the body-memory of the pain-pleasure and embraces it. The Tricks he has served all offer fragments of what his body wants. It could be brought together in some way: subjugation, dominance, passion, reciprocation, and measured force. Whore-slut imagines a congregation of his memorable Tricks learning what Bitch-boy wants from each of them. Mica shivers the daydream beside Little-bitch.

“Are you okay, Mica?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Burley greets them at the door. The Great Dane skitters around the boys licking and sniffing. Burley is uninterested in humping Burley’s-bitch and returns to his spot in the kitchen. Finn has decided to fend the dog off from now on, Bitch-boy is his now. Mica will go home now. Finn knows The Whore-slut wants to escape. Finn abandons his partner to play a game he stole from the Man. Finn only took three, they won’t be missed, he is sure. Mica dutifully goes to find Alea. Nothing has changed since Cain Sykes told him he was always to present himself to her when he entered their door.

Alea and Vikki are in the kitchen deciding what their supper should look like. There are few income streams in the Sykes household. Mica is the principle one, and they have come to depend on it. Alea and Cain agree the better share must be available for their parents in Mexico, or wherever the absent adults choose to be. It is always better to keep their father at a distance. They see their mother as a harmless appendage who simply bore them each in their turn. She is an income stream herself.

Mica could cook better than these sisters and often does. He understands tight circumstances, latch key kids, and absent parents. The sisters have settled on a can of soup and buttered bread. Alea turns to Mica as Vikki begins preparations.

“That must have gone really well. He has already booked you two for the same time next week. Where is your little-bitch pussy-partner?” Finn is on his bed with the Nintendo ecstatically grinding out a new game. Vikki is dealing with soup, so Alea drops a curse, “Well, fuck!” Then she leaves the room. Cain decides he can be helpful and butters bread silently beside Vikki.

“Did Finn get fucked?” Vikki asks quietly.

“No, the guy is working out some childhood issues, I think. He never touched Finn, barely looked at him. It was very Kink.” Maybe later, when she is playing with him, she will ask for more details.

“I will see you go out with Finn again.” Vikki decides. She is being sort of sweet. Vikki and Mica listen to the dispute in Finn’s room. It echoes about the quiet house. They hear the sound of slaps.

“Ow! Alea don’t, stop!” Finn is quarrelsome for an instant, annoyed at the disturbance.

“What did you say?” Alea’s voice is loud. It might be angry, but this is implacable control.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …” Mica pauses with the butter knife poised above the bread. Slap! Slap! Slap! There are deliberate pauses between each blow. Mica returns to buttering the bread, but his hand trembles.

“No Alea,” This is a pleading whine followed almost instantly by hysterical retractions and a squeal of pain. Then Finn is sobbing. There is nothing more to do, so Mica has time to think about his throbbing posterior. “You don’t have to tell Cain, please Alea, don’t tell Cain!” Slap! Count to five Slap! Count to five Slap! Mica recognizes this as the metronome pace at the man’s house.

It is not his place and might be risky, but Mica takes the washcloth from the sink and swipes the snot and a trickle of blood away from Finn’s trembling upper lip. Alea will be angry with herself later, because Mica thinks Finn will have a black eye. Only certain types of Tricks like tough little bitches with black eyes. Mica wants to keep Finn free of that.

Vikki and Alea exchange an understanding. The sister’s position in the Sykes house is so fragile. It takes Alea’s iron will to maintain their precarious control. It is so easy to fall into the pattern of their vacuous whore-mother. Cain’s sloth is the sister’s only edge. The boys in the kitchen are their only resource.

Their little brother is eleven and the balls in his fear-shrunk scrotum are beginning to shift the power balance. Boys his age are practicing their adolescent, sassy swagger. They are sensing the meaty muscles that will cover their body. Finn is not their little brother for much longer. He has to be shaped into a bitch like Mica.

“What do you say Finn?” Vikki queries her brother. She divides the soup between two bowls.

“I… I … I’m always going to come to you when I come into the house. You or Alea!” Finn adds quickly.

“Suck the slut-hustler’s cock.”

Finn is pretty sure this is directed at him. Names are pretty random in the Sykes house. Finn is usually little-slut, or little-bitch. Almost always little anyway. Finn knows he thinks too much. He was thinking of the hierarchy again. That was a big mistake. He has to be like Mica, say as little as possible.

Finn is naked, so he decides Burley’s-bitch-cum-slut-hustler should be naked too. “Take it off,” he risks a whisper to Mica. As Mica removes his knit top, Finn slides the joggers off of the teen’s hips. The soft prick goes in his bruised mouth and he is sucking on his knees. The consummation is comforting after Alea’s brief torture. Mica’s soft prick fills his mouth and reaches back towards his throat.

Alea blows on her spoon before she tries a sip. With her little brother being trained, there is less need for her to be the dominant here. The boy-hustler was caned today. She can see the crimson stripes. Males come in three varieties in the Sykes neighborhood: junk food suet-fat, meat-locker dangerous, or famine victim. Mica and Finn are famine victims tipping dangerously toward meat-locker. The sisters can handle a pair of famine victims for a while longer.

Boys are so utterly predictable about their pricks. If Alea made them stay together in Burley’s crate or Finn’s bed, they would consume each other all day long and through the night. The fifteen-year old was not much different than the aggressive boys about the school. Alea hated her classmates' speculative looks. Always horny, always listening to their pricks. There the cock-slut is gyrating his hips into the little bitch-boy’s face. The cum-slut is running his fingers through her bitch-brother’s hair, touching his twig neck and frail shoulders as if the bitch-boys were hugging.

Her little brother is all hands on too. One hand is all over fuck-slut’s leg and ass. The other is yanking at his little prick. Finn is eleven, when is his birthday? Sykes’s never celebrated birthdays, but perhaps each one of them knew the day they will be old enough to fuck-you walk away from each other.

“Mica,” the teenager opened his eyes to look at Alea. “You’re not Burley’s bitch anymore. Burley is cut off from now on. He can lick his own cock. Your new job is to make Finn cum for real. You milk Little-bitch till he produces.” Alea takes a bite of bread.

“I … I cum, Alea.” Finn pulls off of Mica to assure his terrible sister. A look from her sends him back onto Bitch-boy’s boner. Be like Mica, say as little as possible!

“Of course you do, bitch!” Alea pauses with a spoon at her lips. “You don’t jizz, you stupid little fuck.”

Mica thinks back three summers. Maybe I was twelve. A guy remembers the moment, but who adds the date they first ejaculated to their diary? Who keeps a diary? Finn can swallow him down to the root, but he rarely tries. Finn nibbles the tender parts like he has felt Mica do on him. Flexing his ass muscles recalls the cane strikes and the sensations radiating about Mica’s groin. Thank you, I understand. Mica needs the Deacon’s long prick sawing at his rectum. He needs the knowing that this building ejaculation is just a moment in Edan’s endless date rape. Bitch-boy needs the Lout’s mastery. I am who I am, I will be who I will be, thus saith the Deacon.

Alea watches the sluts together for a moment. Fuck-hole is already lost again in the Little-bitch’s mouth and hands. Bum-buddies pretty soon. Vikki interrupts her peace with a question. “When is Cain coming back?”

“He did not say. He is out making a deal for something better than the shit weed he sells.”

“When did he say they would be back?” Vikki has to bring up the unpleasantness while Alea is eating.

“He did not say.” Alea replies bleakly. Vikki is very frightened, but that is her problem.

Mica ejaculates in Finn’s mouth. His hand is by the boy’s throat. His fingers can feel the convulsive swallows. It always seems like some vast flood, but Mica has had his teaspoons, so he knows his jets of spunk are more taste than volume. He is peanut butter sticking to Finn’s tongue and the roof of his mouth. His eruption is the flem caught at the back of Finn’s young throat.

Ejaculations, Mica and Burley are not fuck-buddies for the moment. Mica is too wise to think Alea has abandoned that game yet. Mica sets Finn on a kitchen chair, props his long legs on his shoulders and begins his new assignment. Finn is boned, but a finger on the boy’s prostate helps him come along. Finn’s boner is middle-fingering his mouth and a hand plays with Mica’s ponytail. Finn slaps it playfully across Mica’s shoulder blades like he is swatting flies. Then he teases the cord free, and Mica’s hair is loose and flowing about the oral action.

“Mica fucked Finn before their date.” Vikki remarks, stepping around the boys with her empty bowl. The man paid considerably for his discreet pleasure. The sisters could have ordered a pizza to celebrate. In one month, their circumstances have improved remarkably. Something better should come their way for all this hard work. Finn is making stupid animal noises. Men’s grunting noises make Vikki shiver. “Shut the fuck up, Finn” There is some whimpering that Vikki chooses to ignore. Her little brother’s toes are curling and the big feet are as stiff as a man’s prick.

Alea could give a rat’s ass if the summer’s bonus boy-hustler has endless coitus with her bitch-boy brother. This is a matter of control and one thing the sisters cannot afford is to lose control. Finn has forgotten the shut the fuck up and he is panting like his latest bowl movement is stubborn-stuck. Alea makes a circling gesture around her neck and silently crosses her wrists. Vikki nods understanding.

Mica’s mouth is riding Finn’s last dry heave bucks as the girls bind his wrists behind his back. Vikki ratted him out, he heard that, but there was nothing he could do about it. He keeps on sucking the stiff prick. If he keeps going, he can delay what comes next. When the collar comes about his neck, he shakes his head, like he is too busy. Finn does not seem to mind.

Alea pulls the slut-boy off of little-bitch’s boner. No ejaculation, she assumes. Her little-slut brother is slouched in the chair, boy-prick wanting more. “Follow us Finn, you are part of this.”

Mica cannot help himself. “Please Alea, send me to jail, just jail.” Hands bound behind his back, Birley’s dog collar around his neck, the basement terrifies him. “You don’t have to take me to the basement!”

“On your feet, Mica.” Alea tugs on the lead. “Do I have to push you down the stairs?” She thinks she could manage that. “Little-bitch is down there already. Are you going to let him take your punishment, Bitch-boy?”

Mica finds his feet. Cain is not here, implacable insanity is not waiting in the basement. Mica clings to that thought and his concern for Finn. Alea’s fingernails find the back of Mica’s scrotum. “This has to stop, fuck-toy.” Slight pressure on his balls. “You know how valuable you are. Your Bitch-boy pussy is worth more right now than my Little-bitch brother’s naked prick. Don’t let that go to your head, you worthless piece of dog shit. I will beat Finn like a drum and make you listen. Or maybe I let you go to that shit-hole home of yours right now. You won’t have to listen,” Alea compresses her palm around Mica’s captured balls. “Just know, while you are gone, Finn is in the basement taking your punishment.” These family jewels and the cunt pay for everything. Alea cannot let her rage loose. She frees Bitch-boy’s scrotum. “Do you understand?”

“Thank you,” Mica breathes. “I understand.”

Vikki is down in the basement already. She has placed a chair where she can reach the ring Cain screwed into the center beam. They both ignore the boy-hustler’s involuntary sobs. Finn is on a tread at the bottom, rocking gently back and forth.

Mica is quite strong, if slender. This is the great bluff backed up by Cain’s raw sadism. The sisters have to keep control of the situation the best they can. “Cain is not here, what are we going to do?” The profitable hustler is under the hook, arms at chest level so he can move about if he raises his wrists. The little-bitch is sitting on a tread where he thinks he is supposed to watch.

“Finn come here, you have to hold on to your fuck-partner, don’t let go! You let go and we are going to beat the living daylights out of you. As long as you hold on and stay out of the way, you are not going to get hit.” Alea hands a flexible garden hose to Vikki. She looks at it uncertainly. “Well, I’m not going to do this myself!” Vikki is such a wimp. Under her breath, Alea adds, “Take it easy, they both have to work tomorrow.”

Alea puts on Cain’s boxing gloves to a mixed chorus of Finn’s distress and Mica’s hoarse half sobs. “Okay,” she turns around pounding her fists together. “Is everyone ready?”

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