 |
|||
|
|
Ravenswood Part 4
by Emile
2009. This is a work of fantasy and the writer does not suggest or condone any particular activities, which may not be legal, or safe, or even feasible, in real life.
---
By now, the heat of summer had set in, and in those lazy days, everyone disappeared to take advantage of the endless daylight, or their cool hideouts, or whoever else they could take advantage of. Even Ravenswood seemed to take the summer off, with the usual repairs to broken shingles and rusted downpipes seeming less urgent in the parched desert air. I made a mental note to start saving Zach's paychecks for a roofer, I mean I knew the fuckjob could afford it now, so I didn't see any reason why the state should pay his way anymore. So he had no clothes to speak of, and had to beg, steal or borrow even toothpaste, doing favours even prisoners would flinch at. Who the fuck cares. Still, too hot to get really angry, so I succumbed to the sun, and took a towel up to the roof to get some rays.
I thought the house was empty. That's when I next saw Zach, and he was quite a sight. Instead of being on his chores, there he was, his body glistening with sweat, spreadeagled on the rough cement, his body straining to reach four flowerpots that had been placed far apart, so he could barely touch them with his fingertips and toes if he kept his muscles rigid. At first I thought he was naked, but then I saw a series of split rings digging into his cockshaft, linked by a black elastic strap that stretched between his legs, nudging his bloated nuts to one side. Evidently he couldn't see who had come up as he stiffened tautly at my footsteps, even though the pose made him sweat a torrent, until I sauntered around to stand between his wide open thighs.
We both got a shock - in my case realising the filthy porn costume he was wearing - the black elastic strap connecting to a wide fuck ring that encircled his arsepucker and kept the sphincter (if you could call the well fucked tunnel that) exposed. Plugging that worthless excuse for a manpussy, a large writhing electric eel of a dildo, still whirring and twisting in his arse, although it had obviously been plugging him for a while, since his blunt tool had softened back to its usual semi-engorged state, dulled by constant arousal and denial. His skin was a uniform honey brown, and each muscle stood out as if incised in stone from Charles' forced diet, particularly as Charles had evidently been beefing up his "rack", making his chest swell unnaturally large. Still, his body was impressively proportioned and ruggedly masculine, from his broad hands to the vein along his football sized bicep to the valley between his ice tray abs - which made his vulnerable pose, denuded cockroot and smooth ballbag seem even more obscene and unnatural.
Seeing me, he quickly retracted his hands from their outstretched position, covering his tackle with his meaty paw, but even his wide palm and thick digits couldn't entirely cover up the donkey dong that jutted up in his holster, or cradle the slippery ballbag which hung through the fingers like ripe cheese in the sun (which was probably not far from the truth). He started speaking and his words came through oddly slurred, until I caught a glint of steel as he spoke. I told him to stick his tongue out, ignoring the words, and he reluctantly complied, to reveal no delicate stud, but a bulging 2 gauge captive bead ring punched through the tip of his tongue. The steel clicked against his teeth as he spoke, and made him lisp, so his speech was laboured and difficult to understand. but eventually, while he slaked off the sweat slick from his chest and rubbed his aching melons with his free hand, he told me he was forced to stay like this for half an hour - exposed to anyone that came up and the buildings around - because Charles was 'training him' for a new job - at the porn shop where his filthy outfits were sold.
He begged me again to send him away, pointing to his saut hungry body and trussed dork as proof of Charles' wrongdoing. I snorted. "Looks to me like you're just embarrassed at the kinky shit you pull to sell yourself. I'm disgusted..." He leapt up, a crazed look in his eyes, pivoting around so fast his smooth ballbag swung and slapped against his thigh with an audible whack, revealing his lower back to me. The sight made me spring a boner, his muscular thighs spread, leaning slightly away, presenting his taut globes and ringed pussyhole to me - but what he was pointing to was the huge black tattoo that sprawled over his lower back in an arc the width of his hips. It read, in gothic letters, "FUCKHOLE". I leant forward to get a better look, placing my hands on his arseglobes, which leant him further forward, off balance, and he had to put his hands out on the ground to brace himself.
Now his back was arched up enticingly, so I worked my thumbs towards each other and pressed down on his pink cuntflesh, teasing open his loose hole wide enough for my thumbs to slip in past the rotating dildo. He gasped, and began to throw a stiff boner, which curved enticingly towards me. The split rings were connected to each other on the underside of his dork only, so when his hardening shaft expanded, it bent his cock downwards as the rings held their place underneath. This was unmistakably painful, and he began to groan and sweat again, clearly struggling with my role as protector and abuser. "Looks to me like this little fuck routine of yours is turning you on, boy ..." I observed "... you ain't proved nothing but your own sick dicklust and twisted need to embarrass yourself." I dug in deeper now, making his legs buckle a little as he tried to shy away from my prying hands. "Yeah, you're just lucky a wholesome straight boy like Charles is so tolerant..." He gasped at this. "Tolerant?! Charles is a monster, he ugh ... he ... oh fuck..." I'd been working the eel in and out of his hole for a few seconds at this point, and despite the pain and depravity, his engorged and bloated cock looked ready to pop. Clearly Charles had him on cum control, 'cause he was leaking and his toes were curling with the effort of controlling the orgasm that was threatening to wash over his body. "Uh, what's that, Zac" I asked, still working the writhing plunger into him, jamming it against his prostrate. His cock was so hard and throbbing now that despite the equipment, it was nearly completely rigid. Pointing directly down now, I could see the pisslips pulsing like a silent alarm, spitting beads of thick precum that stretched into threads, dangling towards the floor.
Meanwhile I noticed Charles had come up onto the roof, silent as a cat, and was making his way towards us, out of Zac's limited vision. "Oh please, I need to cum so bad" Zac panted, his whole body shaking, "but Charles will kill me if I spit so much as a drop..." Charles came up just as he looked ready to pop, smacking him on the balls so hard he slipped off my fingers and toppled to the ground. "Damned straight whitey" Charles barked as Zac lay there, curled in a ball, nursing his aching black-and-blue balls, his whole body convulsing with pain and pent up fucklust. Between gasps he managed to croak "See, it's not my ..." but Charles silenced him with a quick jab to the solar plexus. I patted Charles on the back, but said, loud enough for Zac to hear "Okay Charles that's enough, I don't care what little arrangement you and Zac have to get his rocks off, I don't approve of violence in the house." Charles turned to me solicitously. "I's sorry mister, he just gets so uppity sometimes, it just makes me mad..." I nodded sagely. "Alright, Charles, I understand. Sometimes when you're provoked by a little dickditch like this, it's hard to control yourself. Just take that as a warning. You too Zac, keep your filthiness away from me, understand, it's disgusting. Tell you what, I want to see $10 in the swear jar every time one of you misbehaves. Zac, I'm holding you personally responsible. Understand?" Somewhere between the hoarse sobs came a yes. I smiled inwardly, wondering how much extra pressure that would apply.
With that, I walked towards the staircase to give the two some privacy. As I got to the door, I heard Charles leaning over Zac's face and whispering "Whoa boy, I gonna punish you good for that one!" I could only wonder at what punishment was, when this was considered normal. But then I remembered that this weekend was Charles' 18th birthday, and some wicked notions sprang to mind. I mean, if this was Charles, what would his friends from juvie be like? He'd been very particular about the day-release form, very particular indeed...
|
|
|