CHAPTER 9
“Hey, don’t let him suck you off,” came Mr. Elliot’s harsh command. “I’ve got other plans for that sweet little cocksucker.”
“Fuck off,” said Mr. Larson. “You don’t ever want me to have any fun. Let him suck as long as he wants. It’s an educational experience for him. A learning device, as we teachers say.”
He bounced his prick under Heath’s nose so that the rubbery tip slapped across the boy’s face. Heath’s lips quivered as they strained to reach it. Even though he was in the wooded stocks, he had a little movement of his head from side to side, and he used it to capture the cock and suck on it again.
He hated himself for what he considered weakness. Something drove him on, though. He had to suck on that prick because he’d been told to. The male musk odor was strong in his nostrils and the taste was driving him out of his mind. He didn’t understand what this strange feeling was. All he knew was his own body’s reactions.
His own battered cock was hard and leaking again, just at the thought of sucking on Mr. Larson’s big prick.
“What do you want to do with him?” asked Mr. Larson. “I’m happy letting him suck on my cock. He’s giving head like a pro now.” He looked down at the kid fastened in the stocks. “You’re not a pro, are you? Naw, a kid like you wouldn’t know the first thing about giving a man a real blow job. So how is it you learn so fast? Maybe you’re just naturally horny.”
Heath’s hearing was impaired by the blood rushing harder through his head now. His temples throbbed and his pulse boomed like surf. He couldn’t understand his own lust for the prick. The man was forcing him to suck on it. Forcing him.
He should have felt revolted, and he did. Sort of—but more at himself. He was too confused to really understand what he felt. He wanted to suck cock, but to admit that out loud, even to himself, would be admitting something he still wasn’t ready for.
Being made to give the shop teacher a blow job was something he secretly wanted to do, and now he could disclaim all responsibility for it. Larson forced him. Larson forced him. And he could eat the whole prick with all the lust boiling up in his young body.
He could feel the heat and shape of a big cock in his mouth, and it wasn’t his fault. Not at all. He could enjoy it, because he was free of guilt about it. All the guilt landed on the two men’s shoulders. They were rapists. They took advantage of naive kids and fucked them up the ass without any moral compunction. They were evil.
And Heath loved them as much as he hated them for it.
“Shit, he sucks better than my wife does.”
“Your wife won’t even touch your prick, much less suck on it, you dumb bastard,” said Mr. Elliot, joking.
“How’d you know that?” snapped the other man. “You haven’t been knocking a piece off on the side, have you? You and my old lady aren’t fucking around behind my back?”
“Cool it, man. I didn’t mean anything by it. Let’s forget all that and see what we can do with our prime piece of ass here. Our little pro has got to be aching by now. I bet he wants something big and round and hard stuffed back up him. Don’t you, kid?”
Heath flinched away from the principal’s touch. He loathed the man. He wanted to see him burn in hell for what he’d done. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh, we couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right. Help me get him up onto the lathe.”
Together the men lifted Heath’s naked body easily and laid him bowing in front of the lathe. His arms and head, still in the stocks, rested on the table, while his elevated ass faced the machine.
“You want I should put in the special attachment?” asked Mr. Larson.
“Of course, put it in. Let’s see how the kid likes having his hole reamed out by something big and hard.”
Heath almost screamed when he saw Mr. Larson put a wrist-thick polished wooden dowel rod into the head of the lathe and grease it up. The blunted end told him exactly what these two insane men were going to do. All they had to do was slide him backward and stuff his hole around the wooden dildo—and then turn the lathe on.
Heath didn’t have to be told it would kill him. The rapidly turning dildo would rip him apart. And if it didn’t do that, the friction between the wood and the walls of his ass would burn him to a cinder.
“Don’t do that. Y-you’ll kill me.”
He struggled, but they held him too firmly. In a few seconds Mr. Elliot had him sliding along until the blunted end of the wooden dildo actually parted the ring. He could no longer struggle with the firm wooden rod in him.
“He’s not going to turn it on full speed, kid,” Mr. Elliot told him. “That’s only if you don’t suck on my cock.”
He jumped up onto the table and sat with his legs on either side of Heath and his prick right in the boy’s face.
Heath didn’t know what to do. The wooden dildo resting in him wasn’t turning yet. But he knew it would be soon. He didn’t want to be drilled all the way to the chin with that damned thing. And his only chance of escaping that was to suck on Mr. Elliot’s prick.
He was torn by the same yes-no feelings he’d had before.
He wanted to. He’d have done anything the man ordered as long as he controlled him the way he did. But he hated him for making him do something he wished he’d had the guts to do without being forced.
Hesitantly he took the flaccid prick between his lips. He licked tentatively around the piss-slit, then shoved his pink tongue out hard to make the cock buck and dance.
Heath felt it stiffen with lust. He started to suck more of it into his mouth—and then he heard a low-pitched hum, and felt the dildo begin to turn in him.
He screamed.
He tried to push away from the wooden rod slowly turning inside him, and couldn’t. The stocks on his neck and wrists wouldn’t let him, any more than the awkward position on the lathe would.
“Relax and suck my cock,” the man commanded.
Heath tried to close his eyes, hoping it would all go away like a bad dream. It didn’t. The friction of wood against the walls of him mounted until he was ready to die from the heat. And then something changed inside him that he couldn’t get a good grip on.
The idea hit him that he could imagine Mark fucking him.
To have his brother crouched behind him, driving that huge prick in and out of him, would be the next best thing to heaven. Or was it his prick Heath was sucking so avidly? Both. His mind was confused, blurred with sensation, but the fantasy worked. With his hole filled to overflowing by the slick, greased wood, his own cock began to react again.
The warmth spread through his guts and burst into his belly. When it went up his spine, he knew he could survive this—and actually enjoy what these madmen were doing.
He could make believe it was his brother fucking him. His handsome older brother who was tender and kind and one hell of a stud.
And the prick pressing so insistently between his lips wasn’t the man torturing him either. It was his brother’s. He didn’t try to make sense of it. It wasn’t possible for Mark to be both in his ass and in his mouth at the same time, but logic had nothing to do with the daydream. All that mattered was keeping his own sanity.
He sucked.
The dildo turned slowly in him, giving him some relief from the hollow, empty feeling that had been plaguing him all night. He sucked harder on the cock between his lips until his cheeks went hollow. He kept his eyes shut so he could hold the fantasy that he was giving head to Mark.
And his tongue seemed to learn new things just because of that dream. It licked out and across the underside of the man’s prick. He teased the little triangular flap of skin hanging under the cleft head, then tried to stuff his tongue down the piss-slit again. With the hard-on it was easier than it had been when the prick was limp, though still not possible. It didn’t matter to him. Just trying excited him.
Then he felt something else nudging into his lips.
He turned his head a little and opened up, and another prick came into his mouth. Both men were feeding him their cocks. He didn’t mind. The fantasies ripping through his mind now weren’t even of his brother. They were of some ideal lover, one with a prick so big it could fuck him the way the spinning dowel was doing and then come all the way out through his mouth.
He relaxed a little more and let the feelings from his hole take over his whole body. The warmth flooded him like melted butter. He was wrapped up in a warm, gauzy, exciting blanket. His hard cock swung under him as blood pounded into it. Even his breathing sped up as his excitement mounted.
“Hey, I like this,” one of the men said.
Heath didn’t try to figure out which one. It didn’t matter. He had a mouthful of prick and that was what counted.
“I dig it too. Why didn’t we think of this sooner? And this kid can give head like nobody else. He learns fast. It’s going to be a shame when we have to—”
“Shut up,” snapped Mr. Elliot. “Just enjoy the ride. We’ll talk about the… other… later. Ummm, God, his tongue is amazing on the underside of my cock. Keep licking, faggot, keep licking.”
“Lemme turn up the speed so he’ll lick faster.”
There was a grinding of gears, and Heath gasped.
The lathe turned faster. The wooden dildo filling him spun rapidly now, threatening him. But his hole had expanded to take the wrist-thick imitation cock. He tensed and relaxed around it and found it completely unresponsive. His own body, though, was singing.
The speeded-up dildo built a growing sexual tension in him. No man’s prick had ever come close to doing this to him—not this much. He gasped and thrashed on the uncomfortable metal tracks. No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t get away from the steely hard pricks fucking his face. First one, then the other, shooting into his mouth.
The tension from the spinning rod finally triggered his come.
He shrieked and bucked and actually lifted his hips off the tracks far enough to stuff the dildo even further up him. He wanted—needed—more. And he got it. His own jizz shot out over the wooden table. But he wanted an in-and-out motion as much as a spin. He crammed himself down harder onto the dowel.
“Aiieeeeee!” he moaned. “I love it. It—it’s too much for me to handle. Ummmmmm.”
“Suck, damn you. Suck my prick.”
He took the offered cock and sucked it as hard as he could. His whole head throbbed as his tongue raced around the sensitive glans. He rubbed and stroked and finally got a taste of the bitter drop of pre-come beading at the end of it.
Then he got a hot, fiery blast of jism in the face.
His lips hunted for the taste of it and didn’t find it. It splattered into his eyes and his hair and ran down his cheeks. He consoled himself with the other cock—his tongue wasn’t going to miss its mouthful—and he missed that one too. Just as the prick convulsed, the man jerked it out of his mouth and joined his friend in coming all over the boy’s face.
He leaned back, trying to get away from the torrent, and couldn’t. The thick, stringy ropes of jizz blasted into his face and eyes and hair and ears.
And all the while, the wooden rod mindlessly drilled deeper into him.
When the grease began to dry up, he felt the pain in his hole. The dowel was pulling him apart it was so thick, and the spinning action burned his insides with friction.
He passed out, not caring whether he ever woke up again.
