The Woodshop Boys

Excerpt

“Where’s that other kid that was with him?” asked Mr. Elliot. “I think it might have been his brother.”

“The other one called him Mark,” said Mr. Larson. “I sent him off on a wild goose chase, but the kid’s probably smart enough to have worked it out by now. He’s had time to get back to your office. Want me to go get him?”

“Yeah. I think it would be damned interesting to see his brother fucking him. After all, he’s new at this game. We should keep it in the family as much as we can.”

Mr. Larson laughed evilly and left.

Heath had never felt sicker to his stomach than now. When Mr. Elliot came over and gently stroked his hair, he flinched away from him. The man didn’t seem to notice. He just kept stroking the boy’s red hair, slow, like he was gentling a horse.

“I think you and that stud brother of yours are going to make a hell of a fine pair,” he said. “Incest. You know the word, I suppose. Yeah. Seeing the two of you fucking would be a real kick.”

“Rot in hell, you slimy—”

He didn’t get to finish.

The man yanked back on the hair he’d been stroking so gently and the words died in Heath’s throat. Elliot put his face close to the boy’s and said, “Don’t make idle threats. Mike and I are the ones calling the shots around here. We’re just using you. Remember that. You’re here to give us pleasure, and nothing else.”

He let go of the head so fast that Heath’s forehead slammed into the table. He groaned and saw stars for a moment, and when he recovered enough to lift his head and look around the room, he saw Mark locked into still another set of the wooden stockss.

“He was too easy, Jim. Just grabbed him from behind and he practically knocked himself out for me. So you really want the stud here to fuck his own brother?”