Sasuke Sarutobi

Over the Fence

1

Frankie hadn't meant to hit the ball through Mr. Tupper's second-story window, although the ten-year-old was kind of impressed he'd hit the ball that far. He sucked at sports. Since he had moved to the suburbs with his mom, he'd only made a few friends and all of them wanted to play sports. Frankie told his friends about his level of suck, but they begged him to play anyway. Now their ball was in the creepy old guy's place.

Frankie swung his legs over the pointed, raw edges of the fence and landed on Mr. Tupper's perfectly manicured lawn. His friends shouted for him to hurry up.

Frankie had never seen Mr. Tupper. None of his friends had either. Frankie didn't know anyone who had actually talked to the guy. All the kids figured he had to be old and creepy since Mr. Tupper never came out of his house.

Dark bricks formed the body of the house, with black stones tracing the windows and door frames. Jet black door was about two shades darker than Frankie. It had a real doorknocker. Frankie scratched his head trying to figure out what the hell it was, but he couldn't tell from afar. Two skinny trees dotted either side of the clipped lawn. Extra patches of earth surrounded them. They reminded Frankie of nipples.

He heard his friends shouting for him to hurry up again, so he did. Once he got to the door, he went for the knocker. He paused. The knocker was sliver or nickel, maybe chrome. Shaped like a man's head, the hinge sat inside the mouth. The knocking piece hung down to the man's chin, with two round bulbs that did the actual knocking. Frankie blinked a few times. The man had a dick in his mouth and the balls banged against his chin.

Frankie bit down on the top of his lip, stifling a giggle, and reached for it. When he touched the knocker, the door creaked open. Frankie almost choked on his heart. His dick rubbed against his underwear. Whenever the ten-year-old got nervous his dick would get hard. He could have pushed the door open with it.

Shaking, he pushed open the door with his hand, waiting for the creaking to stop before slipping in. The house looked fairly new, like one from one of those makeover shows on TV. He almost whistled when he saw all the brand-new flat-screen TV in the front room. Down to Frankie's right the sun lit the hallway. He walked down the hallway and saw a staircase to his left.

On his right a set of windows looked out to the side of Mr. Tupper's lawn. From the outside, the windows always looked dark. From the inside, Frankie could see a screen-like shade over them. It reminded him of the window tints for cars. He could clearly see the fence outside, but nobody could see inside the house without pressing their face against the glass.

Frankie started to go towards the end of the hallway when he heard a noise. It sounded like it came from upstairs. He didn't think his dick could ever get any harder, but it managed to. It was practically bursting from his pants. He considered unzipping them to let it hang out, but decided not to.

Figuring he'd already come into the Mr. Tupper's house without even knocking, Frankie thought, Just call the bastard, get the ball, and get the hell outta here. He thought about how cool all the kids would think he was for going inside when his pussy friends just stood outside the gate. Maybe even a few girls would like him now. He headed upstairs.

Tons of pictures lined the walls on the second floor. They reminded Frankie of things he'd see on the History Channel. Most of them were black and white, some were color. Every one of thing was a picture of a man fucking another man or teenager or boy. Frankie stared. He couldn't help it. Mr. Tupper wallpapered them everywhere. As Frankie walked down the hallway his hand traveled to the rock hard bulge in his pants. He didn't even like other guys that way, but he rubbed his tip gently.

He spotted an open door to his right. He leaned in, pushing the door open wider. Straight ahead a pool of glass lay scattered over a desk with a large computer monitor on it. Tall bookcases groped the walls. Frankie headed went for the computer. The ancient monitor bore a baseball-size scar in its screen. Frankie didn't know he could hit that hard. He pushed the chair away and reached for the ball. He remembered seeing some guy get the shit shocked out of him on Youtube that way, so instead the boy unplugged the monitor first.

He eased his hand inside the screen's wound, but he couldn't feel the ball. He peered inside and still didn't see it. He wasn't on the desk or floor or anywhere in the room. On the off chance it rolled out of the room, Frankie headed back to the hallway and looked around. He saw another door cracked. He poked his head inside, his dick twitching, and stepped in.

He'd never seen any of the things in the room before. Some of it looked like giant rubber versions of his dick, but others, like the weird ball with the straps on it, the strips of leather hanging from a long stick, the weird-looking handcuffs, and the things that looked like jumper cables, had his mind guessing what the hell Mr. Tupper was up to.

"Looking for something?" a deep voice asked.

Frankie froze. His dick pressed hard against his jeans, moving the zipper moved down. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder. There was Mr. Tupper. Not some old creepy man, but a rough-looking guy like those men in old black and white movies. Sporting only a bathrobe, Mr. Tupper sat down in one of the chairs next to the door.

"I guess you're looking for this," he said, pulling the ball out of his pocket. "Nice hit. Put a hole through my window and my monitor."

"Sorry," Frankie said. His dick twitched again. It took him moment to notice Mr. Tupper's eyes were on his crotch. At first Frankie wanted to cover himself, but whenever he touched it, it always stayed hard, so he just pretended like he didn't noticed the man's glare. Mr. Tupper grinned, and Frankie was glad he was too dark-skinned to be able to blush.

"C-can I have my ball back?" Frankie asked. Mr. Tupper smiled even wider, and a look came over his face that scared Frankie to his bones.

"Sure," Mr. Tupper said. He spread his legs, revealing a monstrous set of balls and a dick that curled around them. He dropped the ball squared between his legs. With a flick of his leg, Mr. Tupper's dick leapt on the ball and draped it like a mohawk. "Come and get it," he said.

Frankie had never seen a dick that huge in his life. It looked almost as long as his arm, and almost as thick. He couldn't take his eyes off it. He wanted the ball, but not if he had to touch that… thing. "Come and take it," Mr. Tupper said, this time more sternly. Frankie still didn't budge. "You want me to call your parents?" Frankie fought back a smile. His mom worked in the city, so she wouldn't be home for a while. When she was at home, she focused more on her boutique quotas than Frankie. If Mr. Tupper called her she might just hang up on him for holding up her business line.

Still, Frankie shook his head.

"Then get over here and take this ball," Mr. Tupper ordered.

Frankie shook his head. Mr. Tupper's eyes sank to the back of his head. Frankie felt his bladder itching to let it all go.

"Get over here now!" Mr. Tupper said. His voice was a bear's growl. Frankie held his breath. Without thinking, he snatched the ball from beneath Mr. Tupper's dick. The dick flopped on Frankie's hand, the warm squishiness sliding over the boy's knuckles. Mr. Tupper grabbed for Frankie, but the boy turned on his heel and tore out the room. He bounded down the steps, gripping the rail as the first floor hurdled closer. He spotted the blue-green lawn, the orange haze trimming the blade, and took off. A hand gripped his arm and squeezed tight.

"T-that hurts!" Frankie whimpered. Mr. Tupper stood there marble-faced. His robe hung open, still falling. Orange highlighted the ridges of his chiseled form. Like a supervillain, Frankie thought. He tugged, but Mr. Tupper's grip held.

The boy whimpered by instinct, the fear seizing him as tightly as Mr. Tupper's hand. Mr. Tupper ignored him. He reached up with his free hand. Frankie ducked. The front door slammed shut, the balls of the doorknocker ringing as Mr. Tupper dragged Frankie back upstairs.

2

Mr. Tupper pushed Frankie to the floor, towering over the boy as Frankie scooted against the bed. "Stand up," Mr. Tupper said. His dick pulsed as he shouted. Frankie felt his own tighten again. "What's that in your pants?"

Frankie covered his little tent, but Mr. Tupper brushed Frankie's hands away with his foot. "Take them off," he said.

Tear pooled in his eyes, but Frankie wouldn't let them fall. "I'm not su-" he started.

Mr. Tupper slapped Frankie hard across the mouth. "I said take off your pants."

"Bu-" Another slap belted Frankie in the mouth. He tasted blood on his tongue. He took one more glance at Mr. Tupper, felt the streams of water warm his cheeks, and undid his pants. His little dick poked through his boxers. It curled into an easy arch, the shiny brown head throbbed with Frankie's sobs.

"I said off, not down," Mr. Tupper grunted. Frankie pushed his shoes off as he pulled his pants and boxers off. A little tuff of hair topped Frankie's dick. His gumdrop balls hung bundled tight against his body. Wrinkles wiggled around them, a few hairs poking out of the crevices.

Mr. Tupper did his best supervillain grin. "Well, well," he said. "Did you use that to fuck up my window?"

Frankie giggled. He couldn't help himself. His dick wasn't any bigger than his ring finger. "No," Frankie said, his grin widening. Mr. Tupper slapped him again. The grin left Frankie's face.

Mr. Tupper leaned over the boy. Frankie shut his eyes and waited for the blow. They didn't stay shut long. Mr. Tupper's fingers wrapped around Frankie's dick. They trailed to Frankie's balls, squeezing the little marbles, massaging them with Mr. Tupper's knuckles.

The man jerked his hand down hard. Frankie yelped and tried to push Mr. Tupper's hands away, but the man's grip was too tight. Another jerk, this time up, and Mr. Tupper had Frankie standing on his toes. Frankie's dick stayed hard.

Mr. Tupper gave the boy's nuts a good twist. A scream belted out of Frankie. "I'm sorry!" he said. "It ain't gonna happen again! I swear!"

Mr. Tupper's face scrunched into a grimace. He hoisted Frankie up by his nuts onto the bed. When he let go, Frankie's hands went for his sore balls. The pain inched up the boy's pelvis, dancing into his bowels. He rolled his side, pulling his knees to his chest.

"Take off your shirt," Mr. Tupper ordered. Frankie panted. He let one hand go to work while the other cupped his balls. Just as Frankie got the shirt past his head, Mr. Tupper grabbed the boy's other arm and belted Frankie in the chest. The boy went limp, both his arms trapped. Mr. Tupper socked him again and ripped the shirt off.

Frankie lay on the bed buck naked except for his socks. He hacked up breaths between sobs. Mr. Tupper stepped to one of the tables and picked up a set of leather straps. He pushed Frankie on to his stomach. Frankie didn't fight him. Instead, he fought to catch his breath.

He squealed as Mr. Tupper tightened the strap deep into his left arm's flesh. Mr. Tupper tied the other end to the frame of the bed, doing the same to Frankie's other limps until the boy lay tied spread-eagle on the bed.

"You owe me for the window," Mr. Tupper said. A small red ball dangled from the man's hand. He waited until Frankie took another breathe and crammed it in Frankie's mouth. It stretched Frankie's mouth to its limit.

A sharp, cold pain smacked across Frankie's naked ass. The boy screamed, the sound coming out as a muffled groan. He looked over his shoulder. Mr. Tupper tapped the thick metal paddle on Frankie's button ass. The paddle blurred and struck Frankie's ass again.

"I've been watching you," Mr. Tupper said, pelting Frankie again. He had great aim, hitting the same spot each time. Mr. Tupper laid it into Frankie, emphasizing each word with another blow. "You're the hardheaded one. Always peeking into my yard. Always looking for trouble. You hit that ball in here on purpose, didn't you?"

Frankie felt the red ball seep deeper into his mouth as he screamed. No matter how hard he tried to pull loose, he just couldn't get free. Every time he jerked, Mr. Tupper hit him harder. After another barrage of blows, Frankie finally lied and shook his head.

"Thought so," Mr. Tupper said. He brought his arm far up into the air and planted as hard as he could right across Frankie's back. The boy arched his back. Drool oozed out of his mouth.

"Well," Mr. Tupper said. He turned back the tables. "Since you like breaking things, how about I break that little cherry you got there?"

Frankie didn't know what Mr. Tupper meant. He did know he wanted to go home. The boy closed his eyes and tried to picture his friends still waiting outside for him. Before he could think any further, he felt Mr. Tupper's hand scoot under his balls. Mr. Tupper pulled Frankie's hard dicklet out. He pulled what little foreskin Frankie had left over the head of his dick and clamped the foreskin closed with a clip. The cool metal teeth bit into Frankie's skin. Mr. Tupper let the boy's dick pop against the bed. The boy tried to wiggle the clip free, but that just made the teeth dig in more. Mr. Tupper lifted Frankie's right side and squeezed the boy's nipple. He gave it a harsh twist and put clip on it. He did the same to the other side and patted Frankie's head.

"We haven't even got started," Mr. Tupper said. "I'm going to pop that cherry of yours with this." He held up a long metal rod. The end rounded into a soft point. The boy's eyes widen as Mr. Tupper drew the metal rod against his tongue, the saliva glittering as it dripped out. Mr. Tupper guided the rod to Frankie's ass. He pushed one of Frankie's ass cheeks aside and placed the tip of the rod against Frankie's hole.

None of Frankie's murmurs and squeals stopped Mr. Tupper. Hot grease flooded Frankie's ass. He yelled as loud as he could, begging and pleading, but it all came out as murmurs. The pain crept all the way down to his toes. All he could do was bang his head into the pillow.

"I haven't even got the tip in," Mr. Tupper said, the smile hanging in his voice. His tongue drooped between his teeth as he twisted the rod in until it was half-way in.

He stopped.

Frankie went limp. His sobs came in hiccups. Mr. Tupper took a peek at the boy's face, waited until Frankie made tear drenched eye-contact, and shoved the rest of the rod in.

Frankie buried his head in the pillow as Mr. Tupper slowly pulled the rod out. Mr. Tupper stopped just before the tip was out and shoved it all the way in. With each pass, he twisted it just a little. Frankie's sobs fell into soft grunts. Mr. Tupper pulled the rod all the way out. For a moment, Frankie thought he'd shove it back in, but that didn't happen. Something hotter, larger, and pulsing paved its way in. Frankie glanced back. Even with his eyes swimming he could make out Mr. Tupper's dick scooping deep into his ass.

Mr. Tupper didn't bother taking off his robe. He leaned over Frankie with his arms by the boy's head and got his knees right under Frankie's legs, pulling them even tighter against the straps.

"Now you're going to get it for my monitor," Mr. Tupper whispered. He pushed his dick in, his pubic hair scouring Frankie's ass cheeks. Mr. Tupper drove in until Frankie's ass was on his hips and then pulled all the way out, forcing his dick back into the boy's weeping hole. Frankie moaned loudly, his dicker getting harder. The clamp pulled at his Frankie's foreskin, but he could barely feel that pain compared to the hell in his ass.

Mr. Tupper grabbed Frankie's hair and tugged it back. His grunts rose over Frankie's moans until finally he shouted, digging his dick further into Frankie's ass. It shook inside the boy. Something burning oozed out Frankie's ass and pooled on his balls.

Mr. Tupper pulled his dick free. Frankie sobbed quietly as Mr. Tupper wiped his dick off on Frankie's leg. The man head for the door, but turned when he heard a sigh of relief from Frankie.

"Oh, we're not done," he said. "I've just got to get a few things from the other room."

3

Frankie rubbed his little dick against the bed hoping to remove the metal clamp on it. The teeth held tightly. He tried arching his back against to let his dick slip forward. Relieving the pain of his dick stretching against its natural curl would at least make Frankie feel a little better. He had no luck with that either. He was tied too tightly to the bed to do more than hump it.

He tried to imagine what he looked like strapped spread-eagle on the bed. There he was butt-naked, his pelted ass covered in cold bruises and probably blood. When the image came to him, Frankie smiled. He figured he'd look kind of funny laid out like that. The smile passed as quickly as it came. Frankie pulled at his restraints, hoping to get one loose, even if it was one of his feet.

The straps didn't budge.

He pulled harder, his shoulder popping from the strain. Still not even an inch. As he tried again, he spotted Mr. Tupper's shadow in the doorway. Frankie didn't think he could cry anymore, not with the way his eyes hurt, but the tears came as Mr. Tupper walked in. He held carried two smaller black boxes, some wires, something that looked like a smaller, but thicker version of the rod Mr. Tupper shoved up Frankie's ass, and some black things that looked like straws without holes.

"I saw that you unplugged my monitor," Mr. Tupper said. His dick, hard and bent slightly to the left, wagged from side to side as he walked. The tip reminded Frankie of a dinosaur's head. The rest of the dick was long and covered in veins. Something clear drooled out of Mr. Tupper's piss hole. It looked like spit to Frankie, but spit didn't bead the way that stuff did.

Mr. Tupper walked behind Frankie and released the restraints on the boy's legs. Fresh blood tingled poured into Frankie's limbs, the tingling turning to pulsing aches. Frankie wanted to wiggle his legs, but kept still. Mr. Tupper rounded the left side of the bed and placed his hand on the wrist restraint.

"Listen good, boy," Mr. Tupper said. "You're going to turn over and lay on your stomach. Don't even think about running again."

Frankie nodded. Mr. Tupper released his hands. Frankie tried to turn over, but his arms flooded with blood and collapsed beneath him. He heard Mr. Tupper laugh.

Frankie laughed inside. Once his arms felt fresh he bolted off the bed, running head first into door frame. He slipped to his knees, but managed to catch his balance as Mr. Tupper hopped the bed and came after him. This time Frankie made it down the stairs and to the front door. He yanked hard, but the door wouldn't budge. He groped for the lock and stopped in horror.

The lock needed a key. Tears welled in his eyes, but he didn't wait for them to fall. He headed to his left, to the front room with the big TV. He tried the windows, but they wouldn't open either. The locks were at the top of the window, much too high for him to reach. He backed away from the windows slowly, his mind trying to figure where else to run. He hadn't paid much attention to the layout of the house when he came in. There was the dick doorknocker, the TV, the stairs, and the…

The backdoor.

Frankie turned. His throat landed in Mr. Tupper's hand. Mr. Tupper's fingers squeezed down. Instinctively Frankie reached for Mr. Tupper's hand, but a quick squeeze made the boy's arms drop back to his side.

"What did I just say to you?" Mr. Tupper said. He hoisted Frankie up. Finally Frankie's tears fell, but not out of fear or pain. He could feel the red ball bending from his clenched teeth, the rage bubbling up in heaves. He swore, the sound coming out as a moan.

Mr. Tupper carried Frankie back up stairs, squeezing harder each time the boy dared to raise his hands. He choke-slammed the boy on the bed. The air whooshed out of the Frankie's mouth between the gag. Mr. Tupper placed his knee on Frankie's chest and held Frankie's left arm as he restrained the other. Frankie waited until Mr. Tupper eased off his chest before he tried to kick the man. Mr. Tupper pushed his knee deep into the boy's sternum. The kicking stopped.

Once Mr. Tupper had Frankie tied down again he removed the clamp on Frankie's dick. Little scrap marks and punctures peppered Frankie's foreskin. Mr. Tupper smiled, leaned forward, and swallowed Frankie's slender brown pole. He ran his tongue up and down the tender foreskin, nursing the wounds. Frankie moaned. Mr. Tupper's tongue spooned Frankie's dick head, the tip digging deep into Frankie's piss hole.

Then the man bit down. Frankie screamed, but Mr. Tupper kept chewing on Frankie's dick. His teeth grinded the boy's solid flesh as he worked down to the boy's pelvis and worked his way back up. He gave it one final suck, one strong enough to lift the boy's ass off the bed, before letting the dick drop from his mouth.

The little wounds bled as Frankie's dick pulsed. Mr. Tupper wiped the dick clean with his robe. He went to one of the tables and picked up what looked like a thin black straw. Frankie watched as Mr. Tupper licked the black straw, took hold of Frankie's tiny dick, and pushed the straw right into his piss hole.

Frankie howled. "Squirming only makes it hurt more," Mr. Tupper said. "But so does going slowly." Mr. Tupper eased up his pace, pushing the straw deeper, pulling it out just a little. He stopped when he'd gotten a third of the length. He took another straw and a little black disk and threaded it through on of the holes in the disk. He wrapped this around Frankie's dick. Making two more, Mr. Tupper pulled them tightly around each of Frankie's balls.

At the table he got the smaller rod. It looked a lot different up close. Towards the bottom the rod got skinnier, but then flared out into a small disk. Mr. Tupper slipped it under Frankie's balls, found the boy's asshole, and pushed the rod in.

Mr. Tupper took off the clips on Frankie's nipples and replaced them with metal clamps shaped like clams. He grabbed the two black boxes and sat them on the bed. One after another, he attached the wires hanging from the disks, clamps, and rods to the boxes. Standing at the foot of the bed with a sly grin, he flicked on the boxes and eased up the dials.

A pulse ran threw Frankie's dick down to his pelvis. It only lasts for 10 seconds, but the pain hung in him. He groaned and squealed as another burst came from his chest and ass.

"That was what you were trying to avoid when you unplugged my monitor, wasn't it?" Tupper said. He turned up the dial on the box to Frankie's dick. Another pulse surged through the boy's tiny dick. He screamed and pulled at his restraints, going stiff when the second blast hit him.

Mr. Tupper turned up the dial on the rod's box and laughed as Frankie squirmed around in pain. With each burst the boy's face scrunched up.

"Well, all this work makes me hungry," Mr. Tupper said, heading for the door. "And don't think I forgot about you trying to escape." Mr. Tupper turned the dials up. Frankie roared, his body twisting in pulses. Tears streams down his face, along with snot, and rolled into his ears.

"I'm definitely going to need some food for this," Mr. Tupper said.

4

"Good," Mr. Tupper said. He spoke through a mouthful of tuna sandwich. "You're learning. We're still not done yet."

Frankie sniffed, jerking up as two more shocks ran through body. Mr. Tupper sat the plate of food on one of the tables. He scooted his glass of what looked like water towards the center. Frankie opened his eyes again. They drifted to the sandwich and the glass. Mr. Tupper followed them.

"I guess you're hungry, huh?" he said. Frankie nodded. "Fine," Mr. Tupper said.

He approached the bed and turned down the dials on the boxes. The stinging edged away, leaving only a dull tingling in Frankie's nipples, balls, ass, and dick. Mr. Tupper swung his leg over Frankie's body and dropped his full weight on the boy's chest. Frankie's coughed hard. Mr. Tupper scooted forward, his balls resting on Frankie's throat.

Up close Mr. Tupper's dick looked even bigger. Frankie could see the deep ridges of veins and capillaries running down to Mr. Tupper's hairy balls. The knob of Mr. Tupper's dick sat on the red ball in Frankie's mouth. The stench coming off it flowed into the Frankie's nose. He didn't realize his own ass smelled that bad.

"You sure you're hungry?" Mr. Tupper asked. Frankie started to nod, but held back. His eyes widened. He felt the tears coming again, his eyes already itching from the ache. A grin danced across Mr. Tupper's face. He tapped the boxes next to his leg. "Suck the cock or get the box."

Frankie tried to swallow, but the red ball made that difficult. His dry throat didn't help either. He was more thirsty than hungry, but either way he didn't want a dick in his mouth. He didn't want the shocks again either. Already he could taste the smell of his ass, and he had a feeling that Mr. Tupper would shove that dick down his throat just like he shoved it in Frankie's ass.

But he also felt that the shocks could get worse. He knew it. Slowly he shook his head.

Mr. Tupper leaned forward and slipped off the red ball. Frankie's jaw popped as he closed it. He stared at Mr. Tupper's dick, opening his mouth inch by inch, afraid to feel it ride past him lips.

"Look at me," he heard Mr. Tupper say. Frankie did. "If you bite me, I cut your cock off and make you eat it." Frankie nodded. "Once it's in it stays in until I pull it out," Mr. Tupper said. "If you let it fall out you'll get the box."

Frankie nodded again. Mr. Tupper held up his dick and pointed to Frankie's lips. "I have to take a piss. You better swallow every single drop."

The boy gagged. He clamped his mouth shut, his lips quivering, his eyes trying to squeeze away the thought. Over and over he thought, What kinda freak pees in some guy's mouth?

"Changed your mind?" he heard Mr. Tupper say. Frankie shook his head. He didn't to drink any piss, but couldn't be worse than the shocks.

He inched open his mouth. His tongue slid out and covered his lip. He also wasn't sure Mr. Tupper piss in his face, so he kept his eyes shut.

Mr. Tupper licked his lips as pushed his dick into Frankie's mouth. Frankie gagged from the taste. A shit covered dick tasted worse than it smelled. He opened his mouth wider, hoping the dick wouldn't sit on his tongue. Instead, Mr. Tupper shoved his dick in as far as it could go. He pushed forward, using his body weight to keep the boy's head planted on the bed, his knees blocking Frankie's head from turning. He waited until Frankie stopped gagging before he pulled out a little and let his stream of hot piss flow down Frankie's throat. The boy gulped it down as fast as he could, hacking each time. Mr. Tupper cut the stream as the boy swallowed. Frankie chugged the salty, acidic piss as fast as he could, not letting any of it sit in his mouth. He could nausea building in his stomach and chest.

Frankie's stomach wanted the piss out of his body. The piss felt like pipe cleaners scrubbing the inside of his stomach. He finished without more than a few drops running down the side of his mouth.

Mr. Tupper pulled his dick out and swung his leg off the boy's body. Frankie sucked in breaths, his stomach inches from upchucking. He didn't notice Mr. Tupper had gotten off him until the man patted his head.

"Not bad," Mr. Tupper said. Frankie felt something cool against his lips. He let his mouth open, not caring what it was. Cool water dripped on his tongue. He opened his eyes and saw the glass. Mr. Tupper tipped it forward and let Frankie drink as much water as he wanted. Frankie finished the glass. The water didn't settle his stomach, but it helped ease the heaving.

"See what happens when you listen," Mr. Tupper said as he grinned. Frankie found himself grinning as well. Mr. Tupper placed the glass back on the table and came back to the bed. "Now let's see how well you really listen."

5

Blood rushed to Frankie's head. His legs went numb. He struggled for a solid breath as his pelvis pushed into his mid section. The tingling in his ass and on his nipples stopped. Mr. Tupper had turned off the box. Frankie focused more on the stretched bruises and welts on his ass sending slivers of fireworks up his legs and down his back.

Mr. Tupper pulled the little rod out of Frankie's ass. The boy's hole twitched like a fish's mouth. Mr. Tupper slipped out of his robe, letting it fall to the floor. He hopped on the bed and took off the clamps on Frankie's nipples. The boy sighed.

"Listen up," Mr. Tupper said. Frankie watched him. "If I hear one peep out of you it's the box again."

Frankie nodded. Mr. Tupper aimed his dick for Frankie's asshole. Frankie choked down a gasp. Mr. Tupper spit into his hand, rubbed the glob around the head of his dick, and dove into Frankie's ass.

The boy whimpered, biting his lip to hold back the scream. Mr. Tupper filled the boy's ass. Frankie could feel the dick pushing into his stomach. He clenched his ass on reflex, pulling Mr. Tupper's dick in deeper. The man leaned on Frankie's legs, tearing into the boy's ass, riding it so hard that his balls slapped loudly against Frankie's cheeks. With each pump, Frankie fought back a shout. Mr. Tupper held on to the boy's ankles, arching his hips high into the air, and slamming his dick hard into the boy.

A groan hiccupped out of Frankie before he even realized it. Mr. Tupper clapped a hand over the boy's mouth as he pumped harder. His grunts mixed with Frankie's, the rhythm almost as natural as breathing.

He pounded Frankie a few more times before squeezing the boy's mouth open. Mr. Tupper pulled his dick out, aimed it high, and let a stream of white goop rocket fire out of his dick. Most of it landed on Frankie's forehead and nose. A small bit landed on Frankie's lip,.

"Swallow it," Mr. Tupper ordered. "Swallow every drop." Frankie gulped it down. It felt like swallowing runny eggs. Mr. Tupper scooped the rest off the boy's face and let it drip into the boy's mouth off his finger. Frankie obliged. It wasn't nearly as bad as swallowing the piss, but that was the furthest thing from his mind.

He'd never felt so empty, so disgusting in his life. He wanted to die, if only to make to furnace in his ass go away.

Mr. Tupper came around to the side of the bed. He angled his dick close to Frankie's face. "Lick me clean," Mr. Tupper said. It took Frankie a moment to realize he was licking his own blood and shit off of Mr. Tupper's dick. He didn't taste anything. He didn't really feel the man's vein-riddled dick against his tongue. The boy let his tongue work the edges of Mr. Tupper's dick until he felt Mr. Tupper pull away.

The man slipped on his robe and walked out of the room. Frankie lay his head down and cried as softly as he could. He knew Mr. Tupper would be back with his punishment for groaning. But just as soon as the fear welled in him, it drifted away. What could be worse than this? he thought.

He couldn't think about it long. Mr. Tupper came back within minutes. He undid the restraints. Frankie's legs flopped to the bed. The boy lay limp, unsure whether to move or whether he really wanted to move. Mr. Tupper stood over him, the man's arms waiting to catch Frankie if the boy tried to run again. The only thing that ran was the boy's tears.

"Up," Mr. Tupper said. Frankie struggled to sit up. Numbness seized him from the waist down. It took a moment before he could sit up and a little longer before he could swing his feet off the bed. He wobbled as he stood. Mr. Tupper grabbed him by the arm, the grip tight enough to cut off the circulation. He led Frankie downstairs and into the kitchen.

Dim orange light cast a haze over the stainless steel counter tops. The layout reminded Frankie of the cooking show with the screaming British chef. The kitchen looked professional, except for the thin layer of dust over everything. The place hadn't been used in a long time. Even the refrigerator handle bore a shield of dust.

In the center of the room next to the kitchen island was something that looked like a headless wooden rocking horse, only instead of rockers it had wheels with locks on the side like a baby stroller. Three long bars lined the thing, making it look like a small bench. On the mid bar were two thick leather straps. Two smaller bars and the front legs also had straps.

Mr. Tupper led Frankie to it. He pulled the straps from the mid bar loose and pointed to it. Frankie climbed on, grimacing as Mr. Tupper strapped down his waist and neck tightly. Mr. Tupper tied down the boy's ankles, the soles of his feet dangling over the edge of the bars. He tied down the boy's hands. Frankie's arms were stretched to their limit. He could almost touch the locks, but not by much.

Frankie felt something cold slide into his ass. He squirmed around for a moment, but gave up when he realized it was the rod again. Mr. Tupper walked around to Frankie's face and showed the boy the box. He slipped it into a small pouch just under Frankie's head. The boy could see it, but it was well out of reach of his mouth or tongue. Even the wire leading to the rod was out of reach.

Frankie let his head drop. He wanted to let his head hang there until it fell off. But he found his head rising. He looked at Mr. Tupper, his eyes too sore to pull out more tears. The man pulled a small bag from behind the kitchen island. He unzipped it and drew out a pair of coveralls. They had a cable company logo on them. Mr. Tupper hopped into them and zipped them up. He took out a pair of boots and put them on. A cap with the company's logo finished the look.

Frankie cocked an eyebrow. "Mr. Tupper?" the boy said, his voice barely a whisper. The man grinned, the sunlight skipping across his teeth. He leaned forward until he was eye to eye with Frankie.

"Who said my name's Tupper?" the man said. Frankie's eyes widened. The man straightened up. His laugh echoed off the stainless steel. "I just use the name."

Frankie thumped his hands on the wooden horse as best he could. "But you're-"

"You ever seen him here?" the man said. "Has anybody ever seen him?"

Frankie knew no one had. Everyone knew about the house, the lights came on sometimes, the mail that disappeared. Someone was there, but no one ever saw Mr. Tupper.

"This was a really good joint," the man said. "Took a while to find it. Took longer to find the perfect sport." He patted the boy on the head.

"W-what ?" Frankie asked.

The man licked his lips. He ran his fingers across Frankie's head, stopping at the nape of the boy's neck. He popped Frankie hard with his finger, giggling as Frankie winced.

"Most boys would've hopped the fence a long time ago to see the creepy old guy," the man said. "You fags just looked for months. Lucky one of you knocked the ball in here. Any longer and I'd have to snatch you off the street."

Thoughts churned in Frankie's head, ones about stranger danger and men with candy and dead kids found in swamps. He wanted to say something the man wouldn't forget.

All Frankie managed was, "But what about Mr. Tupper?!"

"You know, I asked that too" the man said, yanking the boy's hair. "Know what he told me. There is no Tupper. They'll come looking for Tupper. They'll find him in a cemetery in Hicksville. They won't even know about me."

He leaned down to Frankie's face again. "And they'll forget about you."

Frankie's sore eyes squeezed out a few last tears.

"Better hope I don't get tired of you," the man said as he stood up. "I'm all you got."

He took a small blue ball out of the bag and forced it into Frankie's mouth. He tied the gag down and wheeled the boy out of the kitchen through the backdoor. The evening air felt surprisingly good against Frankie's naked skin. The backyard was just as perfect as the front. The man pushed Frankie down the walkway to the back wooden fence. On the other side was a small cable company van. The man opened the side door and hoisted Frankie and the horse into the van. He slid the door shut.

Trembling, Frankie looked around. The van was hot and covered in dark carpet. He couldn't see the front cabin, but he could make out the mesh screen that separated the cabin from the back of the van. He tried rocking the horse side to side, but it was heavier than Frankie thought and he couldn't get it to budge. He tried screaming, but his voice came out in muffled whispers. He could barely hear it himself. Panic caught him, and he sucked in quick breaths as he thought about all the things the man would do to him and what he would do once he was finished.

Once Frankie wasn't fun to play with anymore.

Frankie tried to pull his body free. He pulled until his wrists felt like they would fall off. He strained against the strap on his next until his eyes went blurry. None of the straps gave way. Finally the boy went limp, his chest heaving as his tired eyes cried dry tears.

Orange light broke tore into the van. Frankie squinted hard. He heard something hit the van wall. Opening his eyes, he saw the bed sheets, his clothes, and all the things from the bedroom tables. The door slid shut only to pop back open.

"Almost forgot," the man said with a casual tone. He flicked the dial on the box to high. The door shut, leaving Frankie left in electric darkness as the van pulled out of the alley.

The End?