“Christ, you guys didn’t break his arms, did you?”
Another laughing fit.
“No, no, man . . . it’s not . . . hee hee . . .”
“It’s not that kind of hospital!”
“Shit,” Nick said, “you guys are something else. You mean . . .?”
“Okay, okay, okay, so we tickled him a little too much. That’s the breaks.”
“Yeah. Hey, he’ll be okay in a few months. Maybe.”
“Well, in the meantime,” Nick said, “I’ve got somebody you guys can practice on.”
“Fuck, man, we don’t need no practice.”
Nick led his visitors into the Chamber and turned up the lights. Drake trembled with fear, and with the humiliation of being presented naked to strangers.
“This is Raul,” Nick said, “and this over here is Pedro,” exactly as if he were introducing buddies at a card game.
“Hey!” Raul said. “Dude looks kind of wasted.” Raul looked like the older of the two. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his otherwise handsome face bore acne scars, and like his brother he wore a pencil-thin mustache.
“Muy guapo. Sexy little fucker,” Pedro said. He was the handsomer one, his hair cut short, above the ears, his build a bit broader. And who was Juan? The third brother, probably, the youngest one who always got picked on because he was ticklish. Drake flashed on some of the older brother/younger brother role-plays he used to have with Emmett.
“You’ve got some new shit since we were here last,” Raul said, standing before the rack with the vast selection of toys. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a powerful vibrator,” Nick said, “with a special attachment: a rotating brush with feather-like bristles.” He swaggered over to the rack, grabbed Drake’s tightly stretched balls and raised them up, exposing the super-sensitive skin between Drake’s scrotum and asshole. “Fire that bad boy up,” he said, “and stick it right here. In about five seconds he’ll be blubbering like a baby.”
“Sounds hot to me.” Raul approached with the toy, already vibrating and spinning.
Drake licked his lips and began begging. “Don’t touch me, please don’t touch me, can’t you see what he’s been doing, he’s been tickling me to death, make him stop, make him stop, I’ll do anything for you, you can fuck me, fuck me up the ass or in my mouth, fuck me all night long if you want to, I can make you feel good, I can make you come over and over . . .”
“Jesus Christ, this guy’s a talker, ain’t he?”
“I love it when he writhes like a whore,” Nick said. “That’s what I’ve turned him into, a slave and a whore.” He put his face close to Drake’s, took his victim’s chin in his hand. “I haven’t even fucked you yet, I’ve had too much fun tickling you. I take care of you, though, don’t I, slave? When your cock is throbbing and your balls are swollen I give you a good milking, don’t I?”
“Yes!” Drake nearly screamed, though it wasn’t strictly true: Nick also denied orgasms when he felt like it. “Yes, Master, you’re the best milker, you milk me dry! Milk me now, please, milk me all night long if you want to, I can come over and over again . . .”
“Aw shit, you just don’t want to be tickled. Come on, Raul, bring that monster machine over here.”
Pedro ran his tongue over his lips. “Maybe we can fuck him later on.”
When Drake woke up, or was at least aware of his surroundings, he found that he had been moved. He was now chained to a St Andrew’s cross – not a wooden one, but one made from something hard – plastic? fiberglass? – and waterproof. The cross stood in the middle of a huge rubber mat. He took this to mean that they were going to tickle the piss out of him, as Nick had done many times already. But where were Nick and his two friends?
They hadn’t gone far. They came from the direction of the kitchen, each carrying a large bowl. Each of them was also naked, which surprised Drake. Pedro and Raul were even sporting leather ball stretchers and cock rings, and by the size of their erections it was clear they were having a good time. Big erections on brown bodies, how Drake had used to love sights like that.
“Hey,” Nick said, “the slave’s recovered. About fuckin’ time. We got work to do.”
The bowls were filled with steaming water. On a corner of the mat Drake now saw that three straight razors and three cans of shaving cream had been laid out. Immediately he started babbling again.
“Don’t shave me please don’t shave me please, you don’t want to do that, why don’t you fuck me, fuck me with your big dicks . . .”
“Blabbermouth is at it again,” Raul said. “Let’s get started.”
“We may as well start with that beard he’s grown, it interferes with tickling his neck,” Nick said. “Everything else from the neck down comes off. We’ll leave that fine mat of hair on his chest, though, for aesthetic reasons.”
Raul shrugged. “Fuckin’ artist.”
Of course it tickled when they applied the shaving cream, and the scraping of the straight razors made him delirious. Soon the cool air on his naked armpits, abs, and groin was tickling him. His balls felt as if they had just been hatched, as tender and vulnerable as baby chicks.
“I can’t believe you, Nick,” one of the brothers was saying, Drake was too dazed to tell which one. “You should have shaved him long before now, man. Makes a big difference, if you really want to tickle a guy. We used to shave Juan all the time. Didn’t we, little brother?”
“I keep telling you, I’m not your fucking little brother.”
Nick grabbed the water bottle and shoved it at Drake. “Open your mouth. Hydrate.”
Drake sucked cool water from the bottle. It felt so good on his parched tongue.
“Take some more,” Nick said. “I’ve got another bottle here. And maybe one more.”
“What’s with all the water?” Pedro asked.
“I was just thinking,” Nick said. “As long as we’ve got him on the rubber mat, let’s oil him up and tickle the piss out of him.”
The next time he came to his senses, Drake could tell by the color of the sky through the skylight that it was late afternoon. They had been tickling him for – how long? A night? A day and a night? Drake felt that his body, as smooth and slippery as a newborn’s, had been violated in every way.
Gradually he flashed back on some of the things Nick and his friends had done. At one point Nick and Raul were feathering him on his neck and behind his ears. At another point Raul and Pedro were teasing his nipples with tweezers. Oddly enough he had never found his nipples to be very ticklish, but those nipple nips had him babbling again, begging Raul and Pedro to let him suck their dicks, anything to end his torment. That was a mistake, for the two decided to write down everything Drake was saying – writing it on his abs with ballpoint pens. The more they wrote, the more Drake babbled, and the more they wrote, giggling all the time.
Sometimes he managed to escape, to the cool dark waters of the midnight lake. Suspended under the surface, he surrendered to the friendly, unseen fish nibbling away at him. In turn they reminded him to breathe, they helped him remember how.
Now it was feeding time. Nick untied Drake and ordered him to the kitchen area. Drake obeyed, crawling weakly toward the bowl filled with the usual crumbled hamburger meat. The other three men were in the room with him, and as soon as he finished eating the tickling would begin again, so the key was to eat as slowly as possible. If he could make it last . . . nibbling smaller and smaller amounts . . . but he was too hungry. He couldn’t stop himself from wolfing down his food in just a couple of minutes.
The tickling began as it usually did, with the huge white feather dusting his inner thighs. When he tried to roll away he saw Nick and Raul both had those long, whiplike feathers. No direction was safe, but still he tried to roll, curling himself into as tight a ball as possible. It was like a crazy sports event, with the two torturers batting Drake across the floor with their feathers. It hardly mattered where they touched him, he gave a hysterical yell ever
y time. Finally he collapsed, face down, belly to the floor, which gave them the opportunity to sweep the feathers all over his back, from his neck to his ass-crack, and then down, to the backs of his thighs and knees, the soles of his feet.
As he lay there he heard, through his delirium, someone leaving the room – the no-nonsense sound of Nick’s bare feet slapping the floor. Going to take a leak, probably, and why not, Raul was taking care of Drake, wielding both feathers, giving him more than he could handle. But Nick had only left to get a tool, for as soon as he came back he shoved a greased vibrator up Drake’s ass. He recognized the feel of it very well: it was the kind with a dog-leg crook in it, designed to stimulate the prostate to the max. Nick cranked it up, and Drake’s dick began to stiffen. The vibrator did it every time, but Nick knew another technique too: tickling Drake’s lower ribs, just the lower ones, always made him spring a boner. So he straddled Drake and dug in. The combination of vibrator and rib tickling had his slave moaning and howling at the same time. When it got too painful to lie on his engorged dick, it was all Drake could do to get up on all fours. Nick stayed with him, not missing a stroke.
Soon Raul and Pedro both got into the act. They knelt on the floor behind Drake and started squeezing the backs of his thighs. That got Drake moving – anything to get away!
It was a mad procession, Drake crawling across the floor on all fours while Nick, still straddling him, kept up the lower rib tickling and the brothers followed on their knees, squeezing his thighs and calves. Drake didn’t know which was worse, the tickling or the horniness raging through him. They crawled along, all four of them, as Drake howled and moaned and pleaded. His balls ached; his dick was on fire. “Stop! Let me jack off, please, please!”
“You know you’re not allowed to do that,” Nick said. “Now move! I like playing horsey.”
They made several circuits of the wide kitchen area. The faster Drake tried to crawl, the harder he got tickled, while the vibrator buzzed his prostate till he thought he’d die from horniness.
They didn’t stop till the vibrator’s new batteries wore out.
“Oh, shit,” Nick said. “I should have brought some spares. Well, I could stand to stretch my legs.” He stood up, and when Drake looked over his shoulder he got a glimpse of Nick’s enormous rod, which, like Drake’s, looked ready to burst. When the brothers got to their feet it seemed a wonder that there was enough room in the kitchen for these four throbbing hard-ons.
“Please jack me off,” Drake whimpered, rolling from all fours onto his back, just like a dog. “Please, please.”
Nick looked around. “What the hell?” He stomped around the kitchen, shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, look at this! Pecker tracks all over my floor!”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Drake whined. “Honest to God I’m sorry, Sir, but you know I always put out a lot of pre-come, Sir, especially when . . .”
“Shut the fuck up!” Nick drew his big toe across the yellow tiles, tracing long strands of pre-come. To Drake’s great relief he sounded less angry when he spoke again. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. You’re not getting any relief yet, jack-off boy. Instead you’re going to keep crawling. And you’re going to lick up every bit of that jism, till this floor is shining again.”
Tears of frustration rolled down Drake’s cheeks. “Please, Sir . . .” He looked to Raul and Pedro, to see if they might help him, but the two men were off to the side, playing with each other. They had glazed expressions on their faces as they stroked each other’s long, brown, uncircumcised dicks like a couple of adolescent boys discovering sex for the first time.
“I’m bigger’n you, why don’t you admit it,” Pedro said.
“You got a dog dick, man. Butt-ugly. No wonder you like to stick it up butts.”
“Shut the fuck up. Just stroke that fucker, stroke it!”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Nick told Drake. “I’m not going to waste any more batteries on you right now, but while you’re crawling around I’m going to be torturing those ribs!”
It was a losing game. The more Drake licked up pre-come, the more he put down, especially with Nick having no mercy in his tickling. He rubbed his slave’s lower ribs like Aladdin rubbing his lamp, and the pulsing sensations shot through Drake in two directions, to his brain and his cock. He licked and leaked and laughed, laughed and leaked and licked. Nick’s dick was leaking too, his pre-come pooling up in the small of Drake’s back.
Finally he collapsed, gasping, begging for water, parched from licking up sticky jism. As a rule Nick responded to these requests – a dehydrated slave was no fun – so he reluctantly went to get the water bottle.
Thank God! A precious moment of rest! Trying not to make a sound, Drake slowly rolled over onto his back. His worry now was that the two brothers might take a fresh interest in him while Nick was gone. He tried not to draw attention to himself, not to look at them directly. But a thrill of fear shot up his spine when they appeared in his peripheral vision. Their cocks were harder than ever, and they wanted to come so bad they were panting. Drake prepared himself to grovel, beg and promise them anything, whether it was within his power or not.
But they were distracted by Drake’s dick. “Jesucristo, look at that thing!” Pedro cried.
“One hefty pinga.” Raul looked just a little crazy, standing there with his mouth open, drool leaking from one corner. Both of their dicks were drooling, too: more work for Drake.
Nick returned with the water bottle, and Drake was greedy with the cool, sweet water. It helped him get his voice back to nearly normal, and he made use of it, babbling again. “Please sir let me come, I’ll do anything you want, anything you want for the rest of my life . . .”
“You’re damn skippy,” Nick said. He looked at Raul and Pedro, who were in a state almost as bad as Drake’s. “Okay,” he said, “I’m not usually a democratic guy, but what the hell, let’s put it to a vote. Should we let this slave get some relief? My vote is, hell no. What do you guys say?”
Raul and Pedro were in a daze, and yet so agitated they couldn’t stand still. Sex hung in the hair like an impending storm, and it was time to seed the clouds. “Hell, yes!” they both said. Raul added, licking his lips, “We all gotta shoot, man, or we’re gonna die.”
Pedro turned towards Raul. “I shoot bigger loads than you do, admit it.”
Raul rolled his eyes. “Madre di dios, who invented brothers?”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Nick said. “Let’s organ grind.” He found a jar of lube in a nearby drawer, screwed off the lid and swiped a generous amount on his dick, then tossed the jar to the brothers.
Drake had his hands on himself, and he was rolling, twitching and squirming across the kitchen floor. It felt so good he couldn’t stand it, handling his own cock, controlling his own orgasm for the first time in – hell, he didn’t know how long. He didn’t need any lube, his dick was so slick he could hardly keep a grip on it. His hips were thrusting, back arching in convulsions of lust, and even when he banged his head against a cupboard drawer he didn’t stop stroking, making love to his dick with both hands, he had never loved it so much.
“That guy’s a fucking maniac,” Pedro said, though he was no less wild, reeling across the room as he jackhammered his dick to death.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Raul said. “This is the hottest ever, man!” He stood still with his feet planted wide, using all his energy on his slick dick, pulling it one-handed with twists of the wrist that that were skillful, long practiced and, judging by his moans, excruciating. He didn’t spend much time looking around, he was so fascinated by his own hand-and-dick machine.
Nick, on the other hand, kept looking from one man to the other. He didn’t make a sound as he pumped his enormous circumcised rod, but his tight-lipped smile seemed to assert that he was still in control somehow, the master of what each man in the room was feeling.
“Ah . . . ah . . . ah!” Drake’s legs were shaking uncontrollably, his heels drumming the floor. �
��I’m gonna . . .” As he shot his whole body recoiled, he was at the mercy of his own thrusts, the power of his loins jolting him backwards across the floor. And all around him a hot rain fell.
After that it didn’t take the others long. Raul and Pedro were also shaking so bad they had to drop to their knees. Only Nick remained standing, his eyes closed now, his tight-lipped smile long gone as his mouth hung open, screaming soundlessly as his cock gushed like an open fire hydrant. He bent over, jacking upward, taking several spurts on his chest, then sprayed the room. The brothers came at the same time, jerking and lurching across the floor like deranged puppets. Drake got soaked as streamers of come flew over him from three directions.
Afterwards they lay sprawled as if dropped from a great height, left with no energy to move their twisted legs. Totally wasted, Drake finally raised his head to see Nick sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, smoking a cigarette. Nick was frowning, concentrating, creating his next move. Whatever it was, it would not be good.
“Hey, help me, man.” It was Pedro, who had landed on his belly and was just now stirring. “Help, I’m stuck to the floor!”
Raul laughed wildly. “You think you got problems, man? I think I accidentally tore my dick off!”
Nick had left his chair and was surveying the room, shaking his head. “I’ve had my share of free-for-alls in orgy rooms, but I swear I’ve never seen so much come in my life.” Not surprisingly, his gaze settled on Drake. “Okay, you know the drill. You’re going to clean up every square inch of this floor. With your tongue. Then you’re going to clean us up, too. My chest hair is so stuck together it fucking hurts to breathe, and these guys are looking pretty raunchy too.”
Thank God, thank God, none of them tickled Drake as he worked. They were probably too tired. As for licking up come, Drake considered it part of his repertoire. His seasoned palate could distinguish among the four kinds of jism he was slurping from the floor: his own always had a strong, spunky odor but its flavor was mild, a little on the sweet side. Nick’s, which he had also tasted before, was more stringy in consistency, its flavor slightly bitter, like ale. It had no strong smell at all. The other two types – he didn’t know which was Pedro’s and which was Raul’s – were much alike in taste, neither very bitter nor sweet, and real spunky-smelling like his own; but one was much thicker and almost opaque, reminding him of the beaten egg whites they used for fake come in porno flicks. Then there were the many spots on the floor where two or three or four kinds of jizz had blended together – reeking come cocktails, each with its own twist.
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 6 Page 31
