Author: Lizard69 
Title: The Shack 
Part: complete 
Summary: Early teen boy blackmailed into taking a little detour.
Keywords: Mm, mdom, reluctant

This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary
between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes
following the title freak you out,  don't read it.  If I
mis-coded drop me a note through the author email link at ASSTR.
Do not under any circumstances forward this file to anyone that
hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you haven't figured it
out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do not allow
it to be accessed by minors.  If you have inadvertently
downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material isn't legal
please delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in part
without this notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site
without my specific written permission. Copyright 2015 by
Lizard69.


The Shack  Mm blackmail reluctant 
Lizard69

  The boy left the sidewalk for the steep path through a wooded
ravine.  The suburbs resumed on the other side and the shortcut
saved him almost a mile over walking down to the bridge at the
main road.  He gave silent thanks again that his friends lived on
the school side of the cut.  Nobody had to be convinced to let
him walk this path alone.

  He'd first noticed the shack in early spring, before the new
leaves.  Looking in just the right direction, at just the right
time, from a high spot on the trail, there was a reflection that
caught his attention.  Even then pushing through the brush would
have been almost impossible.  Instead he waited until the path
crossed the creek bed at the bottom before turning off.  The
rocks had been tall enough to use as a series of stepping stones,
easier now that the creek was nearly dry.  In the distant past
someone had set more rocks into the bank where it passed the
shack.  Whoever it was lacked the skill or ambition to build a
true stairway, just something that kept countless trips to the
creek from wearing a trench.

  They'd also lacked the ambition to climb very far.  Instead of
putting the shack at the top, they'd built it just far enough up
the side of the cut to keep the spring melt from washing it away.
 Thick brush hid it above and below.  Younger than most of his
classmates he'd been the last of them to reach an age where a boy
develops a sudden need for plenty of privacy.  It wasn't the
first thing that entered his mind when he found the place but
since then he'd been making up for lost time.  Almost from the
beginning the empty, dusty, one room shack became his *special*
place.  That was before the pervert.

  He thought at first a stray breeze had closed the door behind
him.  Already stroking his erection. he turned to see the old guy
standing there.  Awkward.  A few years earlier every guy on earth
wouldn't have had a cell phone.  Just a year ago it wouldn't have
been able to do HD video good enough to let anyone recognize his
face after enlarging the scene of him floggin' his sausage.

  "Don't panic kid.  I'll hurt you if I have to but that's not my
thing.  The other times I was watching from a hide outside the
window.  I followed you home.  I know where you go to school. 
The whole world doesn't have to see what you've been doing... if
you can do as I tell you."

  If he knew then what he knew now he'd have called the creeps
bluff when ordered to continue what he came there for, or maybe
not.  Sure, it was embarrassing, but he really couldn't get any
more caught.  What kept him awake that night was the late
breaking thought that there might not have been any video until
he put on his little show.  In his panic to get away he gave the
creep the, "proof", he needed to blackmail him into coming back.

  Stopping every day on his way home soon became routine.  Before
he got caught it was more common for him to do it twice in one
day than skip two days in a row.  How often wasn't a problem, the
creep  wanting him to do more, and more embarrassing, stuff at
almost every session was.  The fear of others finding out became
a more or less constant background to his life.

  Today he was standing in the open door of the shack before he
could see the creep inside.  It was the raw hunger in the way the
perv looked at him, more than the relative cool of the shadowy
interior that sent a shiver up his spine as he began to unbutton
his shirt.  By now he'd stripped so often it was hard to recall
how difficult it had been to get naked those first few times.  In
some ways this was worse.  Not as difficult maybe, but worse.  At
least the creep had his own pants off by the time the boy knelt
in front of him.  Dragging the perverts cock out was too much
like asking for it.

  That first time the snail track of pre-cum across his lips
almost brought up his lunch, before he even thought of having a
cock *in* his mouth.  Now his lips pulled tight behind the ridge
as his tongue swirled around the head and he gently milked those
first few drops of dick dew.  The way his own penis was growing
stiffly erect was more embarrassing than the pleasure he was
giving with his mouth.  That and the way the pervert laughed at
his own lingering prudishness.  Perverts had cocks and hardons. 
*He* still had a penis that got stiff, sometimes painfully stiff,
often at the most inappropriate moments.  Right now was a perfect
example.

  The hand lightly stroking the back of his head signaled it was
time to go deeper.  He pulled his lips over his teeth and rocked
forward letting the underside glide further and further down his
tongue with every stroke.  As the head began to enter his throat
he recalled some of the gagging and choking he'd endured learning
to relax and take it so deep.  It was too soon to begin stroking
himself but he couldn't resist the urge to let his fingertips
explore the incredible firmness of his stiffy.  Not really sure
if the first low moan was from the perv or himself, he looked up
for some clue about how he should finish.  Deep, feeling the
pulse in his lower lip and tongue as the load shot right down his
throat?  Did the creep want him to pull back, trapping the head
and stroking until he'd milked the full load into his mouth so he
could show him what he was about to swallow?

  The perverts evil grin as their eyes met let him know.  Damn,
that way felt so *nasty*.   He pulled back enough to let his
fingers stroke the shaft while still licking and bobbing.  Spurt
after spurt filled his mouth to overflowing as the creep slowed
and finally stopped fucking his face.  How did it get to this? 
The thought of getting splashed by cum used to make his skin
crawl.  Now getting his mouth, "cream pied", wasn't even the main
event, just taking the edge off so the real sex would last
longer.  Getting back on his feet, he didn't spit or try to wipe
his face.  After he got past the thought of having that stuff in
his mouth the taste wasn't a problem.  It bothered him some to
stand there with cum on his chin while he pulled his butt cheeks
apart so the perv could lube his ass.  The creep said it made him
look like a horny little cum slut.  Whatever.  At least it kept
the pervert from trying to kiss him.

  Besides, that might be what he was... now.  Watching his stiffy
bobbing up and down while a couple of greasy fingers invaded his
ass hole wasn't something they talked about in the sex ed. 
Masturbation was, "normal", and there was some vague stuff about
boys experimenting.  Anything past that was far enough over the
line to wreck your reputation if you asked a question about it. 
Like, it wasn't any secret that girls aren't the only ones that
can get raped but they weren't going to waste time discussing
what a boy should do about it.  He could guess what most of them
thought from the punch lines of their jokes.  "...lay back and
enjoy it."  "...don't, don't, don't stop now!"  "...does this
mean we're engaged?"

  The fingers pulled out and he felt the head of the perverts
cock against his hole.  A whispered order made him blush, as much
from the reminder that a camera on a nearby shelf was recording
this as from what he was supposed to say.  Oh well, arguing
wasn't going to make it any easier.

  "Wrap you're arms around me.  Hold me really tight while you
shove that big, hard, cock up inside me.  Help me show everybody
how much I love to get fucked."

  It wasn't the first time he had to say this or something like
it.  He couldn't tell exactly when it went from being another
kind of abuse to just things he had to say and finally became,
well, not exactly a lie.  He still believed, needed to believe,
that he wouldn't be here if he had a choice.  He filled page
after page in his journal with how much he hated to be forced,
then tore them out and burned them, ashamed of how stiff his
penis got while reading what he'd written.  Almost as stiff as it
was right now.  Trying to think of something else didn't help. 
His hand seemed to have a mind of its own.  He'd realize what he
was doing, blush a little deeper, then jerk his hand away as if
it had burned his fingers.  What he used to think of as the worst
of it was starting to become a relief, a finish line within
reach.

  The roughness of the creeps hands on his naked body, the
quicker, deeper, thrusts into what the pervert called his boy
pussy, weren't that important after he was ordered to bring
himself off.  The sudden focus on his own physical pleasure was a
way to withdraw from what was being done to him.  Today the creep
blocked even that escape.

  The boy was unprepared for what happened next, having done
everything in his power to avoid noticing the shorter and shorter
times needed to jerk himself to an orgasm.  The creep grabbed his
wrists, pulling them out and back while telling him to cum.  He
stared at his penis in horrified fascination, feeling an odd
sense of betrayal, as he had his first orgasm from anal
intercourse alone.  His heart sank as the little red LED on the
front of the camera reminded him this was being recorded.  It was
possible to explain doing what he was told.  The things he'd said
and done, well, when somebody else is in charge you say what you
have to say and boys who masturbate usually cum regardless of why
they're stroking.  How to explain this?  Worse was being robbed
of the sense of completion.  Before his penis fully softened he
knew he would have to masturbate as soon as he could find the
privacy.

  As he made his way back down the creek bed he tried not to
think about what sort of fantasy it would take to help him get
off, or the faint stirring in his shorts at the thought of
tomorrows session at the shack.