Glaucon55

Punk Kids or Brent's Big Boner

Chapters 12-15

Chapter 12
Trevor's Penance

Johnny could not know that Trevor had learned at an early age about the joys of ejaculation, even before he could shoot sperm. As a boy of ten, he idolized his older brother Kevin who was twelve. Kevin would make strange noises at night in his bed, and the blankets and mattress seemed to bounce at those times. Trev wondered what his brother was doing, because he wanted to be just as big and as athletic as Kevin. One day, he followed his brother and one of his friends into the basement of the other boy's house when no one was home. He snuck down the stairs to the basement, and watching from there just behind the wall to which the stairs were attached, he saw as the other boy tied down his brother Kevin to an old wrought-iron bed. He was shocked, his big brother who seemed the ultimate athlete and tough guy to Trevor's young mind, was allowing another guy to tie him to the bed without resisting. He wondered why his brother would let that happen, but was fascinated by seeing him stretched out, so vulnerable. Just the sight made his ten year old, four inch [10 cm] pricklet go stiff, and begin to throb in his shorts. The other boy who looked about thirteen, with lots of dark hair, then blind-folded Kevin, and immediately afterward he put his hand on the tethered boy's crotch.

Trevor's stiffy had recently started to leak clear sap when he got hard, and the moment the other kid touched his brother's crotch, he began to leak. When he washed his penis in the shower he learned that he could take that sticky stuff and lubricate his fist. Once, when he was washing his prick, he found he could not stop stroking it, it felt so strange and so good, and the next thing he knew he felt like he was fainting. He had to lean against the shower stall, and he watched his pricklet pulse and pulse, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. From then on, he learned how to play with his pricklet, and make the pulsing happen, sometimes two or three times in a row and at least that many times a day if not more. In the mornings before he pee'd, his pricklet would often be hard, and it ached and stayed that way until he had a chance to play with it. Now as he watched rapt with attention, sweat beginning to form at his forehead and above his lip, the other boy rubbed the area of Kevin's fly faster and faster, until finally Kevin responded by hunching as much as his bonds would allow, turning his head from side to side with his eyes closed.

Then the boy unfastened the button at the top of the fly, and unzipped the shorts… pulling both shorts and briefs just below Kevin's penis and testicles. Trevor's little boner, now went so stiff he had to rub it, and as always, it felt so strange and good. He watched breathlessly as the boy licked his palm and then closed his fist around Kevin's fat twelve year old cock head, at the top of the boy's thick 5" [12½ cm] erection. He began to slowly rotate his fist, then moved it faster and faster, until Kevin's ass was bouncing on the bed, and he was making wailing and squealing sounds that Trevor had never heard before as his head thrashed back and forth.

Suddenly, Kevin really wailed, AAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH… grinding his strong ass into the bedding as his friends fist worked ruthlessly over the bulging cock tip. When Kevin begged him to stop, the other kid did momentarily, but within five minutes, he had licked his fingers again, and was working Kevin's fat glans again, his cock never going even remotely soft. Trevor watched mesmerized as his brother was masturbated relentlessly by his friend for two hours, wringing dry cum after dry cum from his brother's penis, his brother whining and grunting from the ecstatic sensations the boy's fist was eliciting from the sensitive knob of throbbing pre-teen prick. From that time on, Trevor vowed he would not miss an opportunity to relieve his constant erections. He only got to see his brother and his brother's friend one more time, and now his brother was in high school well past kid's games and dating the best looking girls. Trev was sure Kevin was banging the shit out of them. But Trev was still a young teen, and for him any port in a storm would suffice. He figured if Father Richardson could make his boner feel like it was in some girl's pussy, or better yet mouth, he had no intention of missing out on that opportunity.

So when Trevor received an e-mail from Johnny with the video of his performance enhanced by his dirty trash mouth talk, and revealing jpegs of his ejaculation in the confessional, the seemingly perfect gig he had to drain his ever blue balls was over. Instead, he later found himself in the basement room of the rectory where Brent had met Father Richardson under Johnny's and Darren's supervision.

Now, like his brother years before, he was tied spread-eagle on the queen size bed, his big size thirteen [eur 45] feet, pale and muscular, draped over the corners so the toes and soles were fully exposed and tightly restrained. He body was fully furred from thighs to toes, from arms to fingers, deep in his ass crack and from his navel up to and over his pecs, in strawberry blond whorls, with his nipples just protruding from the thicket as two sensitive and stiff cones. In his mouth was gagged with the whiffle ball gag, and he whined and whoosed through the openings, trying desperately to speak about his awful predicament. He watched horrified, his eyes bulging in fear, as broken popsicle sticks and thread were used to separate his long boy toes, exposing the pale soft skin between each of them.

Johnny had warned Father Richardson that he was to cooperate or be exposed to the diocese, so he had no choice. The alternative was being de-frocked and then sent to prison for sex with minors. Plus, after the priest's punishment at Johnny's hands, he was cowed by the thirteen year old who seemed so much older and wiser than his juvenile years suggested. No, the good divine was also smart enough to know that Johnny had him by his short hairs, and that for the time being he was not in control of his cock or his sex life. Johnny and Darren were there also, with Johnny's little bag. More wonderful little devices were brought to elicit helpless expressions of lust from the bodies of bigger boys. Trevor Stockton was about to learn how big boys could be reduced to helpless, whimpering punks at the hands of youngsters.

First they applied the circular band connected to the electric train transformer that was used on Brent and the good father previously, to Trevor's pale, and already erect prick. His corona was so pronounced, that even with the foreskin over the knob, there was a clear ridge around which to fasten the circlet. But with Johnny's direction, they added a special feature for the redhead's thin, pale foreskin. They pulled his cock skin just beyond the knob, and clipped it closed so it could not retract. Then to each of his protruding nipples, they attached two more of the gentle clips they had attached to his foreskin. Finally, the special prod that had been developed for Father Richardson was lubricated and gently but deeply embedded in the big boy's tight, virgin rectum. It took ten minutes to tickle his boy pussy open. The Father was assigned the task, one he secretly relished, his blunt index finger wriggled its way through the thick dark auburn hair in Trevor's crack until he found the ragged slit of his anal opening. Trevor clenched his glutes and tightened his sphincter, determined to resist any intrusion into his bung hole. But the good Father was patient, tickling and scratching, worming and proding, until with some help from nipple twisting and scratching, the boy lost control and the finger breached the barrier. After gently lubricating the boy's asshole, which had already been cleaned with an enema, the Father slipped the small vibrating prod into place and secured it with a strap cinched around Trev's thighs and waist.

Johnny knew they would have a good afternoon with Trevor when they took him to the toilet to piss before they had given him the enema and strapped him to the bed. The moment that Darren held his penis for him, skinning back the foreskin to allow the piss to flow firmly into the bowl, Trevor's cock had erected completely. With his arms tethered behind his back, and his feet hobbled by the dowel they had used on Father Richardson the last time, his humiliation and loss of control somehow made him feel like his brother had, years ago. Nor could he control the sensation when someone touched his penis. It took ten minutes to get him to piss, but stroking his big boy body, tweaking his tits, and fondling him as he stood was worth the wait. Even through his gag, he grunted, and groaned, helpless to stop his teenage hormones from responding the delicious touching that was stimulating his body. Here was another big boy hunk like a lamb to the slaughter.

After he was strapped, gagged, and electrically plugged and bound, Johnny explained to Trevor that he would be doing penance for his conduct in the confessional. From now on, he would be available once a week to pay his dues if he did not want to end up on the computer screens of students and faculty at school, and his friends and family. "Now we've got a special treat for you Trev. You've got all the trodes attached, and they're gonna give you a real 'buzz' when we turn 'em on. But then, we've got a surprise for you… something special that's gonna drive you wild. Lemme take the gag off dude, but no screaming or we're gonna put it back in… you hear me? You get it? Nod your head if you understand… good."

Trevor was so desperate to get his gag off, he would have agreed to anything Johnny said. He heard him say something about 'trodes' meaning he assumed, the electrodes that he had watched them attach to his cock and tits, and the one that was still making his ass ache deep inside. But he didn't understand what the 'special' thing was. As soon as Johnny released his gag, he wet his lips and started blurbing out his issues: "Dude, common, enough. You guys wanna jerk me off, or suck me, I'm with it… go ahead dude. It's cool, I dig getting off… Father Richardson knows. But please, don't hurt me… take off the electrode things, and whatever you stuck up inside me… huh, what about it, please… I'll play along, I'll cooperate, but just don't hurt me."

Johnny and Darren smiled, with knowing expressions. Father Richardson did not disclose to Trevor's frantic gaze, moving from one guy to the other, hoping to get some sign or an assurance that they would not hurt him. Johnny was happy to allay his fears. "Dude, no problem… we're not gonna hurt you, are we Father." Johnny turned to Father Richardson, and gave him a firm and knowing look, expecting him to confirm the plans Johnny had made. Without changing his expression, Father Richardson looked at Trevor, and tried to calm him: "My son, you'll be fne… this is something we must both do to get beyond our sin. I'm sorry that my actions have contributed to you being in this situation. But no one is going to hurt you." That of course was the furthest thing from Johnny's mind. He did not want pain and suffering, he wanted abject surrender and sexual release. He wanted these big boys and older men to be helpless subjects of their own enslavement, desperate to get off, and desperate not to be found out.

Johnny smiled broadly, and looked back at Trevor. "So dude, you ready for the surprise. Cause we can't wait to share it with you." Trevor was anxious with anticipation, scared but his cock throbbing at the same time. His cock had not lost any of its rigidity, and in fact, he could feel inside his foreskin the sticky flow of his pre-cum filling the hood and basting his fat, itchy glans. He continued to flex his ass muscles, and cling to the prod secured in his rectum, partly because of the sensation on his cock knob, and the tightness of his tits with their clips. Plus the prod kept rubbing near his prostate, and the slightly sore, full feeling made his cock flex even more.

Darren, Johnny and Father Richardson all began to slip on ordinary garden gloves, made of thick soft cotton. Each had a different expression on his face. Johnny had a salacious grin, knowing what lay in store for the helpless fourteen year-old boy. Darren had his customary look of wide eyed wonder, always amazed at how Johnny could subdue the biggest boys and how hard his dick would get each time he saw one of them strapped down. Plus he never ceased to be amazed at how Johnny could think up these horribly tantalizing ways to get guys off. Father Richardson had a vacant, almost sad look, hiding his lust for the immobilized teenager, and yet knowing that he was about to enjoy the fiendish torture that the three were about to inflict. But Trevor hardly noticed the look on their faces, his eyes seemed to be trying to focus on what he was seeing them do with their hands. His eyes widened, could that be real? Each of the fingers of the gloves had what seemed like the head of a tooth brush, with really short bristles, attached to the finger tips. Actually, they were the shortened bristles from small paint brushes, cut down to be soft, but stiff at about 3/8 of an inch [9 mm]. Three sets of gloves, five fingers each, that meant thirty fingers with these weird brushes glued to the cloth finger-tips. Each of the fingers were then dipped into a bowl of something that looked like clear oil, and as they approached the bed, Johnny spoke again.

"Trev, you know how during games you like to push smaller guys around in the key when you're playing hoops, forcing them to give ground, dominating them… well that's what's about to happen to you dude. You're gonna feel like those little guys, helpless and unable to stop what's coming. But the difference, is that when this is over, you're gonna cum like a geyser when all they get is pushed around and then lose the game. So just give in dude, you wanted to shoot your scum, and so you will, buckets 'o cum, like you can't stop cumming." Johnny laughed out loud, but both Darren and Father Richardson just nodded their heads, as if to express their pity for the tethered teenage jock beneath them.

Trevor saw the brushes on the fingertips, and pleaded… cum or no cum. "No dude, don't do this… I'm not real ticklish, so this is just gonna hurt… so common dude, please don't do this." Unfortunately the fear in Trevor's eyes revealed more of the truth than his words. He remembered when he was twelve and his brother was fourteen, that they often got into wrestling matches that ended more often than not with Trevor being tickled mercilessly. His brother sensed after the first couple of times that Trevor would get a boner, and if Kevin could get him face down, and with his hands over his head, he could tickle his little brother into a dry cum and maybe even two. Trevor loved and hated it at the same time, unable to control his pricklet from spasming as he was tickled into submission, but dying from the intense tickling that made him cry and beg for it to stop. Johnny had tested Trevor's reflexes when they were stripping him, finding that his tits were very sensitive, his feet and underarms at the very least were ticklish, and he did not want anyone to touch his ass crack. His tits and anus were already out of his control, as was the head of his fat, thick cock. But he was about to lose control of the rest of his limbs, and in doing so, control of his ejaculations. This was not going to be like when he was twelve, because once he ejaculated, what would happen? Trevor's eyes were wide with terror, and he begged in his deep, masculine voice for Johnny to spare him. But there was no hope, and as the anticipation grew, so did the throbbing in his thick, secured prong.

The brushes began to descend.

Father Richardson was at Trevor's big size thirteen [eur 45] feet, so large for a boy of fifteen. The pale feet were freckled on the top, with high arches and long, thick toes. The index toe was even longer than the big toe, and when Trevor flicked or flexed his toes, it almost looked as if he was giving you the finger with that long digit. At fifteen he already had hair on his toes, and by the way Father was staring at the wiggling piggies one knew that soon he would be suckling on them. After all, they had washed and scrubbed Trevor clean after his enema, and now those soft soles-oiled and dried with a hair dryer – and the strong toes tied open and stretched, were ready to be brushed, sucked, and tickled. If you're ticklish the ability to concentrate or control your body functions when you are being tickled, especially on your feet, is impossible. That was what Johnny was counting on, driving Trevor Stockton big hunky body out of control leaving him helpless and begging.

Darren was at the top of the bed, near Trevor's head. He pulled out a night mask like the ones that are given away on airplanes so people can sleep during long night flights. He quickly slid it over Trev's head and covered the boy's eyes so he could not see what was happening. Trevor moved his head as much as his bonds would allow, but he could not prevent Darren from placing the mask. Now Trev's face, his neck and Adam's apple, his ears, his upper chest – pecs and nipples-and the palms of his hands which also got the popsicle stick-thread treatment, were all open and available for the wicked bristles on the ends of the fingers of Darren's gloves. Trevor's hands had been secured to the headboard of the bed, palms up, with popsicle sticks tied to the tops of his fingers to keep his palms fully exposed. Have you ever had someone drag a fingernail across your palm, or the bristles of a brush… ? It's maddening… and that was the effect that Johnny wanted. Trevor would be unable to concentrate when the brushes focused on his palms, or on the inside of his ears, across his Adam's apple, over his pebbled nipples-and that would give Johnny opportunities to test his self control.

As for Johnny, he took his station in the middle of Trev's torso, over his abdomen and navel, at his crotch, and down to his knees. There was the soft, stretched and exposed navel with its sensitive knot of skin inside the hairy little hole. There was the long, thick shaft of the boy's leaking prick, its thick, oversized cock knob wet with the drool of sex and still encased in the soft shroud of his pale foreskin. There were the pungent boy balls, hanging down fat and vulnerable in their sack. And there were the quads, those strong muscles from thighs to knees that made Trevor a force on the basketball court. This was the very scenario that Johnny so loved, to have a big, straight, masculine boy stretched, bound, and helpless, his body craving sexual release and fearful of how it would be accomplished.

The fingertips reached their destinations simultaneously. One of Darren's hands went to Trevor's ears, and thrust an index finger inside one of the boy's big, soft earlobes, wiggling the soft bristles in the sensitive shell. The other hand went to Trevor's firm, mounded pec and grasped one of his rubbery teats between thumb and forefinger and let the bristles coated with oil, add to the stroking of the boy's firm tit. Father Richardson came as close to ejaculation as his cock restraint would allow the moment his hands stroked up and down the soft, pale soles of the big boy's feet. Watching Trevor's already man size toes, thick and hairy, wriggle as much as their restraints would allow, trying futilely to crunch to avoid the scrabbling bristles, and then vainly stretching in an effort to escape the maddening tickling. But Johnny provided the coup de grace, slipping one finger deep into Trevor's hairy navel and the fingers of the other hand scrubbing the ball sweat from the roiling, hanging ball sack of the physically mature teenager's heavy nuts. At the same time, he switched on the electric current from his transformer and the batteries of the anal prod, sending a rolling buzz through the fifteen year old's body. His arms and legs stretched out in shock, and his nipples went rigid as his cock spat pre-fuck from the aching contact far up his rectum.

"YYYYYYAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIII… HA, HA, HA, HA, NNNNNNOOOOOO… OOOOHH, AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH, NO, NO, AAAAHH, NO, WAAAAAAAHHHHH, YA, YA, GOTTA STOP, YOU GOTTA STOP, NO, HELP, GOD NO, OH SHIT, PLEAZE… AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

For a fifteen year old kid, Trevor had an unusually deep voice, no doubt produced from the generous dose of testosterone that nature had given him and had also resulted in a big cock with pungent, full balls as well as his oversized, hairy teenage body.

At first Trevor's body reacted spasmodically to the tickling, jerking from one place to another from the intense sensations. "Oh my God, oh Jesus… Father… ha, ha, ha, ha, No, make 'em stop… fuck, aaaaahhhhh, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha… oh pleaze… pleazzze, stop, lemme breathe, lemme breathe, aaaaahhhhhhhh."

But the deep purring of the prod in his rectum, nudging his boy nut, caused him to clench his butt cheeks and grind his ass from the achey sensation. Coupled with the vibration and tingling caused by the low level electric current in the circlets around his nips and his prick head, Trevor was lost in a landslide of sensation. The tickle in his ear, the insulated plastic allowing his nipples to be tweaked even as they were buzzed, the rooting of his navel, and the maddening torture of his big feet, had the boy howling and groaning, as his penis thickened, stiffened and prepared to spit its boy juice.

"Waaaaaaaaahhhhhh, ohhhhhh, fuck, shit… Father, Father help me… don't let 'em, pleaze, ooooooooohhhhhhh, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, I can't take it, shit… gonna cum, oh fuck, gonna cuuuummmmmm…"

The artificial throbbing caused by the electric band around Trevor's glans had caused the fat, sticky knob to expand, drawing his pale foreskin tight as it was clipped over the opening. The buzz at the tip, was reverberating down his piss lips and into his urethra, adding to the climb up the ladder to a captive ejaculation within the delicate foreskin. The nine inch [23 cm] boner raised off of the boy's quivering stomach, bouncing up and down, stretching to escape the prison of the clipped and buzzed foreskin. But the relentless hammering of his boy nut by the anal prod forced the helpless boy to lose control of his prick, and the maddening tickling made him lose control of the muscles everywhere on his torso.

"Aaaaawwwww FUCK, AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH, HA, HA, HA, HA, AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, HA, HA, HA, HA, SHIT! FFFFFUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK… IIIIII'mmmmmm CUUUUUMMMIIINNNNGGGG! HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, AAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!"

Johnny smiled broadly as he saw the thick white scum leaking in gobs out of the clipped foreskin, piling up on the stomach and navel he was tickling, more and more as the boy pulsed through seven long spurts of teen boy cream.

The three sets of fingers kept tickling, and the electric current kept going after the ejaculation, causing Trevor to cry out for mercy. His aching fuck nut and over sensitive prick knob was driving him insane: "NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOO, AW FUCK, GOD DAMN… SHIT… NO, STOP, HA, HA, HA, HA, NO, HELP, GOD HELP, FATHER, MAKE 'EM STOP, OH FUCK, AAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH. NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!"

"Yeah, that's it Trevor, go ahead and squeal dude, that's what happens when you let priests suck your cock in the confessional… yeah, beg dude… beg." Johnny unclipped the foreskin of the writhing boy, and as the two other's fingers continued to search out every place to tickle and scratch his body, he grasped the still stiff boy prick now covered in sperm. He used the soft bristles on his glove thumb to dance over the teenager's fat glans, stripping down the foreskin to expose the last refuge of defense of the teenager's manhood.

"OH MY GOD… OH MY GOD!, NO , STOP, AAAAAAGGGHHHH, NO, NO FUCK, NO, AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

But there was no relief for Trevor, the big redhead, ground his ass deeper into the bed, was covered in sweat, but his body was stretched out like desert. The fingers of Darren, Johnny and Father Richardson kept up their merciless assault, driving the bound teen to an agonizing consecutive boy cum. As the next wads of spunk shot out, only three short bolts and a long continuous drool, Johnny made sure they milked it all out and masturbated the sticky fluid into the helpless boy's glans, making him scream and plead again.

Johnny decided that Father Richardson should also pay penance for his indulgence with Trevor, so he decided to try something that he had seen in a video on an adult on-line porn site.

In the video, a teenage girl and her boyfriend were made captives by two masked men who burst into their parked min-van and found them engaged in sex. The boy had just slipped his six-inch [15 cm], thick prong into the girl's ragged, lightly furred, cunt slit and was going to give her the fuck she needed, when they were captured and bound by the bad guys.

The next thing they knew, the two teens were on their backs, gagged, arms tethered over their heads and legs tied apart in the back of the van. One of the two bad guys was out of the scene, but suddenly the side door of the van opens and he returns with a large German Shepard dog, who is yanking at his leash. The other bad guy opens a small bag, and pulls out a clear jar filled with some dark gravy-like liquid. Using a ordinary paint brush, he leans down to the girl, and spreading her sticky, wet pussy lips, he carefully bastes he trench until the soft bristles from the brush have her squirming madly, grinding her ass on the carpeted floor of the van. Her eyes are closed, and her gagged pleas have turned to groans. A close-up of her slit shows the puffy lips of her twat, sticky with their own secretions with the hard nub of her clit thrusting out from the folds of its protective foreskin. The hapless teen was unable to control her fuck lust and was dripping copiously from the delicious tickling of the paint brush on her delicate, itchy hole and whorish clit.

The next thing you know, the German Shepard is between her legs, rooting his wet nose into the folds of her drooling cunt, constantly bumping her clit. But more importantly, his long, dexterous tongue is sluicing up and down her cunt lips where her boyfriend's prick had just been soothing her horny need. In the next clip, you just see the girl shudder, throwing her head from side to side, as she obviously orgasms onto the relentless tongue of the dog, whose appetite is kept constant by one of the bad guys dripping more and more of the brown sauce from the jar onto her ravished twat. Even after she cums, the men continue to lave her clit and cunt with the dog's treat, and he licks her to another helpless orgasm as her boyfriend watches transfixed next to her in horror.

The bad guys notice, though, that her boyfriend has sprung a raging hardon watching his girl-friend used ruthlessly by the canine, and one nods to the other with a salacious grin, and the next thing Johnny saw that made his prick go rock hard, was the guy with the jar and brush basting the thick, fat knob of the boy's prick with the wicked gravy. The boy swings his head back and forth, yelling into his gag to stop… but the bad guys just keep at their work, rubbing their own erections with their free hands as the do. The brush works its magic on the boy's wide cock head, tickling the sensitive glans and itching the wide corona, until the handsome teen is thrashing from its intense sensation.

When the dog finishes bringing the girl to her second, marathon orgasm, the bad guy turns the still hungry animal over to his friend, while he slides down his pants and briefs, and enters the bound girl, beginning a long, thorough fuck, the taut mounds of his hairy ass cheeks clenching each time he drills her. In the meantime, the dog is released onto the boy's throbbing prong which is thrusting straight up and completely exposed to the animal's lingual assault. Before you can say "Rin Tin Tin", the dog had wrapped his tongue around the turgid shaft and over the knob, wet and soft, torquing around the dripping lollipop he has captured. Johnny could still see in his mind, how the boy's eyes widened and his ass lifted off the ground when the voracious dog, tasting the sauce bathing the prick tip, licked uncontrollably over and around his conscienceless erection. Even after the kid had shot thick wads of teen juice, the bad guys drooled more sauce onto his overwrought prick knob, and let the dog slaver to his heart's content, turning the boy's groans into shrieks of mercy for his sensitive prick tip.

Now he wanted to see Father Richardson in the same, helpless position.

Darren and Father Richardson helped Johnny secure Trevor to a chair, sitting, his legs tied to the rear chair legs with his soles exposed, and his arms tethered behind him. He was gagged, but facing the bed. Darren was instructed to lube up his fist, and masturbate the bigger boy to another erection, and like clockwork, Trev's insatiable prick was up at attention in a moment.

Then, as Johnny was securing Father Richardson to the bed, face up and spread-eagled, Darren was using a paint brush to lave Trevor's big boy penis with some type of brown sauce-like substance. Darren carefully peeled down Trev's delicate, pale foreskin and made sure that the fat cap of his cock head was thoroughly coated before he rolled it up again. Testicles, navel, and the ragged cleft of his ass pucker, which was at the edge of the chair and just exposed, was also dabbed with a thick covering of the sauce.

Then as Johnny pulled up the priest's legs, fixed to the spreader bar he had made for Brent, and tethered to the top corners of the wrought-iron bed, Darren opened the door to the room and in came a large, beautiful Collie. The Collie belonged to Mrs. Havens, who lived down the street from Darren. Johnny had persuaded him to borrow the dog for a walk, and bring him to their rendez-vous with Richardson and Trevor. The young dog bounded over to Darren, who put out his hand, covered with the tangy sauce that Johnny had scored from his mother's refrigerator. The eager animal lapped at Darren's palm, his long curling tongue seeking out every drop of the tasty liquid treat covering the boy's hand. Darren then whistled to the dog, and turned him towards Trevor, whose eyes were bugging out of his head as he saw the slavering dog rush between his legs and without hesitation, begin to lap at his crotch. Within moment's the Colllie, whose name was Kelly, had Trev's big bone tingling and tickling, as the unconscious pet followed his instincts and licked and licked, curling around the delicate knob, and with the rough force of its animal tongue, dragging down the foreskin to expose Trevor's vulnerable glans. Then, as Darren kept dripping the sauce onto Trevor's knob, the animal lept up and put his paws on Trevor's knees, so he could get his snout closer to the target and Kelly just licked and butted the cock head with his nose, until Trevor felt like fainting from the sensation. Each time Kelly licked, he would bring the boy close, but his constant movement prevented Trevor from reaching the sweet spot, so his boner throbbed and pulsed, but never quite reached the moment for ejaculation. Oh he drooled lots of pre-cum, and it mixed beautifully with the meat sauce, but Trevor was licked into insanity, his long toes curling behind him, his hands scrabbling, but not given the cum he needed to so badly. Darren used his free hand, and the pauses between dripping sauce, to film the entire scene, and get close ups of Trevor's big pale prick being mauled by the soft, tickling of the dog's unmerciful tongue.

When Darren had enough footage of Trevor, twisting his head back and forth, gasping, and rolling his eyes each time Kelly's long, torquing tongue would slide around the pulsing cock knob, scrubbing the pebbled surface of the over-sized boy glans, yet leaving the big kid heaving for air, he picked up a tooth brush, and went behind the bound boy. There he concentrated on the exposed soles of Trevor's basketball player feet, the high arches, the long toes, and wide ball. He covered each foot with sauce in which the tooth brush had been dipped. As Trevor was slowly, excrutiatingly climbing to his ejaculation from the fleeting and maddening tongue-lashing of the dog, he was distracted by the focused tickling of his feet by Darren with the tooth brush. He howled into his gag, loosing concentration, if not his throbbing erection, while his exposed feet were scoured by Darren and the tooth brush. The strong, big boy toes with their clean nails, soft pale flesh, flexed uncontrollably from Darren's investigation with the tooth brush. The moment Trev would curl his toes in the vain hope of avoiding the bristles, Darren would move to the other foot, switching and attacking without any rhythm or consistently, making the big kid squeal with laughter as his precious, powerful feet, the weapons he used to dominate other boys on the court, were subjected to every indignity Darren could apply with the sauce and brush.

Moreover, this was a warm-up. Because shortly before Trevor was to reach his cum, Darren directed the exuberant dog behind the chair, and to Trev's now fully sensitized feet, basted with the meat sauce. Without a bit of hesitation, Kelly went to licking the boy's feet, thrusting his tongue between the long toes, and laving up and down the long sole and high arch. Trevor went wild, almost bucking so hard as to turn over his chair. But there was no where to go, and the bonds kept him tightly restrained. Kelly licked from one foot to the other, following the path of Darren's brushing, until so affected by the ruthless licking, Trevor spontaneously ejaculated, his fat cock already pulsing from the early laving of the dog's insatiable tongue, began shooting thick wads of boy sperm up into the air, landing back with a plop on his shaft, and then drooling down from the untouched prong. Then as fast as you can say "Lassie", the Collie was lead back around to the front of the chair, and as more sauce was dripped onto the still ejaculating prick, the dog once again wrapped his tongue around the exposed glans and wrung every last bit of spooge, mixed with meat sauce, from this helpless and unprotected surface. Trevor's eyes went wide with the sensation, and he howled from the inescapable sensitivity on his unprotected and helpless glans, the dog happily snafing every bit of juice, with a new slightly salty taste, added. Now Trevor's toes were stretched out wide, frozen from the excruciating licking over and around his bloated boy knob.

The test had been a smashing success, now for the real performance. Father Richardson was secured on the bed on his knees, with his head down and his arms tied stretched outwards at a 90 degree angle from his torso and secured to the side-board of the bed. A short two-by-four kept the priest's knees apart, and the ropes that secured his knees to the board, also secured him from collapsing down on his stomach. In this position, his ass was up and split. His feet were top down on the bed, the soles exposed, and his ankles additionally secured to the side-board so he could not move much.

Now as Johnny filmed, Darren and his brush were back at work, coating the priest's anal trench and his ass pucker with the pungent meat sauce. Johnny made sure he screwed the brush into the willing sphincter, and dabbed the sauce inside the entrance to his rectum to make sure that the scent and taste would be inserted inside the divine. Without a gag, Richardson expressed his displeasure at this procedure, especially after having watched Trevor's captivity with the sauce and the dog. "Johnny, Darren, please my sons, stop this… don't do this to me… it's too humiliating. Don't let that animal defile me… please… I beg of you… don't do this!" But even as he begged, the Father's cock was hard and wet from leaking… betraying his sick and nasty lust for the strange things Johnny had devised for his punishment.

Father's heavy nut sack now hung down between his legs, and Darren made a careful paint job of them as well. All this attention to his asshole and testicles kept the good Father's prong rigid. His boner was leaking drips of pre-sap, and his cock was pulsing. Johnny then helped Darren to secure the boner downwards, against a small cookie grate from the parish kitchen nailed upright on two wood blocks from Johnny's old toy box. The grate was used to secure the prick which lost nothing of its rigidity from being lashed downwards, and with the addition of the blocks, it allowed for the top of the shaft, cock knob and about three inches [7½ cm] of shaft, to remain exposed below. Once secured, Darren went to work on the priest's cock, making sure his cock knob got a good brushing to make it itch and tingle.

Then Johnny and Darren took chairs near the bed with large water guns filled with the meat sauce. On the count of three, they began to fire their guns at Father Richardson's ass crack, his balls and the exposed knob of his sinfully erect prick. When he was dovered with the tangy goo, they released Kelly who had been barking and pulling at his leash from the time they began to apply the sauce to the Father's body. He leaped onto the bed when he was released, and wildly went after the targets they had selected, forcing his nose deep into the priest's ass crack, burrowing into the anus with his tongue to get at the sauce inside his rectum, and lashing the balls and cock knob to get the delicious gravy. The priest panicked and began shouting for them to stop Kelly, but as he felt the salacious tongue of the dog slurping into his crack seeking out his ragged anus, and laving his bulging testicles and sensitive cock knob, he began to squeal from a combination of fear and the incredible sensation: "Oh my God… stop, boys, oh God… oh my sweet Jesus… oh, oh, nnnnoooooo…aaaaaaahhhhhh… oh Lord… … oh my God… aaagghhh, sto… stop, oh pleaaassse. No, NO, oh, OH… Oh my God… Ooooohhhh!"

For the next half hour, the boys played target practice, and Kelly licked with a Pavlovian determination not to miss a drop of the tasty meat sauce. Twice, the overwrought priest ejaculated from the way Kelly's long tongue wrapped around his shaft and scrubbed the corona and circumcision scar, as well as the glans. After each cum, the dog licked on, enjoying the additional taste of the salty sperm added to his gourmet treat. The babbling Father Richardson pleaded with the boys to stop Kelly, but they kept up his supply of sauce instead, watching as the Father's hands scrabbled helplessly after he had cum, and the dog's tongue kept working his bloated cock knob. For a finale, they painted his soles with the sauce, and as the dog licked them, Father Richardson howled with laughter while Darren fisted the bound priest's exhausted cock one last time, working him up to another ejaculation, this time from the soft and lubricated fist of the teenage boy.

As the dog's relentless tongue worked up and down Father Richardson's wriggling feet, making him gasp and squeal with laughter, Johnny untied Trevor, and then secured him on his lap as he sat watching the spectacle before him. As Darren worked the priest to his last ejaculation, Johnny gave Trevor one last boy to boy wanking, fisting the unruly teenage cock knob in his fist while he reached up to roll and tweak Trev's stiff boy teats. It wasn't long before the priest and the teen basketball stud shot their last loads of the session, whining and begging as they were milked and bucking from the unforgiving work on their already overworked cock knobs.

The final act of Father Richardson's penance was to agree to suck Darren's and Johnny's hard cocks, and agree at a later date to be tied up in a public place of their choice to have his cock milked. They exacted the same promise from the babbling redhead who agreed readily, not fully understanding what he was agreeing to, but knowing that his prick was finally going to be released from the current agony. As Father Richardson was released from his bonds, and he and Darren showered the big teenager, whose ankles remained shackled to a spreader bar and his hands were secured overhead to the shower frame, Johnny had them gently masturbate him one more time with the soap and water. Their fingertips made him whimper through one last boy cum, as his teen whore penis was unconscious and still craved attention while they pinched and sucked his nipples, and fingered his clenching anus. Trevor had paid his penance, and he and Father Richardson would both be doing so again.

Chapter 13
Copping a Feel

In junior high and high school, Connor perfected his fuck stroke, grinding his unusually thick five and a half-inch [14 cm] prick into his sheets, an old gym towel, and an old gym sock, as often as he could. Every night, and most mornings, he would fuck the bed, driving his sensitive prick knob into the material, occasionally adding to his own copious pre-cum by adding hand lotion from a bottle in his night stand. As he was approaching ejaculation, he would get up on his knees slightly and grind and drive his penis into the wet, clinging material, allowing the soft fibers to graze and grip his over-sized glans and tickle it mercilessly. From behind, his hairy ass pucker would wink with each driving thrust, exposing the ragged cleft in the wet, dank trough of thick tangled hair. God he loved it, the soft scrubbing added to his aggressive, hard driving of his pelvis, to bang as hard has he could.

When he met Ginny, after she showed him the wonders of a blow job, he showed her how good a long, sustained fuck could be. He would bring her to orgasms two three times before he shot his thick load, and he reveled in the chance to screw her deeply and long, her clinging cunt milking his helplessly horny boy dick.

But before he met Ginny, Connor had learned that there were other ways to satisfy his insatiable need to ejaculate. At first he had prayed that he could overcome the lust that raged through his beautiful body and all-American good looks. No one knew how his cock tingled in the back of the classrooms, and how his hand stole down his pants pocket to stroke the itchy knob that would not stop pulsing. But those efforts were simply not enough to quell the fire that burned in his testicles. After a football game when he was sixteen, a buddy who was another back-up player on the team, took him out to a party where they got drunk. He was plastered when they left, and as horny as when they arrived. He awoke sometime later, the car was pulled over on some side-road and his pants and briefs were at his ankles. His buddy was sucking on the fat knob of his prick, swirling his tongue around it, suckling just below the corona making his ass bounce uncontrollably. He tried to push his buddy off, but it felt so fucking good his legs seemed to spread on their own even as he struggled. His buddy, the back-up place-kicker on the team, was holding his nuts with one hand, his index finger tickling the hairy pucker of Connor's asshole, and the other hand was up under his shirt, scratching and pinching his hard tits. He couldn't focus, except to let the fingers and mouth that were plying his body take control and relieve his full balls. Yeah, it felt so good, he slid down on the car seat, still drunk and his head spinning, and let the punk bathe his prick head in spit, his tongue lashing and licking the bulging glans, filling his mouth with his unusual size, leaking and pulsing. The worrying fingetip at this anus made him grind his ass and writhe on the seat, and within minutes, he let the incredible sensation of the hot mouth drag him over the edge, grunting and groaning as he unloaded ropes of thick teen scum into the siphoning mouth of his buddy.

That night, they said nothing to each other when they departed company. They were drunk… shit happens. But that night, as Connor tossed on his bed, his cock again hard, his dreams recalling the hot, wet, suction on his prick head, he knew that he could not resist the temptation and the opportunity to get sucked whenever he could.

Connor confronted his buddy the next day-slamming the boy into the field-house lockers when everyone was gone, then pushing the boy to his knees and making him kiss Connor's bulging crotch – ordered him to sniff and rub his face in it. For the rest of high school, if he needed to get his rocks off, he would make the punk cocksucker take him for a drive, then take his load – sometimes getting a full body tongue bath and whatever else he wanted. No one knew because his buddy was both humiliated and horny for Connor's body. Connor would make the kid masturbate after he would suck him off, and lick up his own cum as his dues for having the privilege of servicing Connor's perfect body and thick cock. Other times he would make the kid grovel at his feet, forcing him to unlace his sneakers with his teeth, lick and suck his asshole, and suck his long, thick toes. It was great, getting the kind of attention to his body that he could not expect Ginny to give.

That was years ago, now he was married, he had left those deliciously raunchy days behind when he could get his buddy to suck him two or even three times a day on occasion. Now, without sex with Ginny for two months, and only his fist to rely on in the toilet or in the shower, he was going stir crazy. He needed his cock worked in someone's mouth, deep in some tight hole, or milked in a lubricated fist – just not his own. He was tempted to go to the neighboring town on his day off and look for a hooker, but what if he got caught? A cop caught getting his joint cranked by some prostitute… that would the end of his career and his marriage. He needed some help, and with his prick constantly hard, he needed it quick. He decided to go to confession, maybe if he talked it though with a priest to see if he could get his head straight. So that is how Officer Connor Anderson ended up in Father Richardson's booth, and from there into the clutches of Johnny Berkland.

Men like Office Anderson could not think straight when their cocks were hard, and Father Richardson knew just how to draw him into the web. He had Connor recite his needs and desires, and had him speak about his fantasies, and then somehow got him to talk about the time before he was married. The cameras were rolling as Connor somehow let the priest open the screen, and press his hand against the offending organ. Before he knew it his zipper was down, and through the fly of his briefs the thick, short prick was being caressed by the Father's warm hands, and then his hot mouth, licking and sucking, twisting round and round the oversized, aching glans. Shit it was hot, seeing the young police officer pressed against the booth wall, his hands and face up against the partition while grinding his taut buttocks to drive the horny penis into the sucking mouth of the voracious priest.

Father Richardson knew he was putting the young, married police officer into a jackpot, but once he heard the dilemma facing Connor, and looked at the handsome blond hunk on the other side of the screen, his sense of duty began to evaporate. The moment he learned that the cop had enjoyed another man sucking his cock, and making love to his body, he was lost… his own cock now hard as a rock and dripping. He had to suck the police officer, on his own terms in the confessional. As he suckled the drooling cock knob, torquing his mouth and tongue around it making the young man gasp and grunt, he slipped his hands up under the shirt, searching for Connor's firm nips. When Officer Anderson bucked against the partition the last time, and began to shoot bolts of cop cum into the vacuuming mouth, the priest plied his tits firmly, making the hunky cop groan even more and through the distraction, allowed his gism to spurt unrestrained from the quivering prick. Hmmmmm, the savory, nutty taste of the masculine man's sperm, and the bleachy odor complimenting the copious amount filling Father Richardson's greedy mouth, it was a jerk-off fantasy come true.

Now Johnny had a prize to use in the humiliation of Brent. For one week, Officer Connor Anderson had been restrained in one of Johnny's cock cages. He expected some adult criminal to be behind the incriminating photos and the e-mail mpeg he received with his face contorted in ecstasy as his cock was gobbled in the confessional booth. Like the cock restraint one on Brent, it allowed for erection, but prevented ejaculation and could be worn under a jock strap or regular briefs. It took an adjustment in how he showered and dressed at the Station, but with careful planning, Connor was able to keep his secret.

The day Johnny and Father Richardson met with Officer Anderson, after sending him e-mail copies of the video and jpegs of his performance in the confessional, the encounter was awkward and even confrontational. Johnny had to rely on the priest to protect him from Connor's anger. But they made it through, and when Anderson understood his situation, he finally agreed to Johnny's terms, frustrated and helpless. He cringed when the boy unbuckled his uniform pants, and unzipped them, lowering them and his briefs to the policeman's knees. He allowed the boy to have his way with him even holding up his shirt while his body was examined, and then the cruel cock restraint fastened onto his stiff cock, erect from Johnny's soft hands and expert manipulation. As the boy gently grasped the thick, hard penis of the cop and pulled the restraint over it, the priest was behind him gently tugging on his nipples, and fingering his firm stomach muscles. By the time the restraint was secured with the tiny lock, Connor was not only fully engorged, drops of pre-cum filled the piss well. Johnny marveled at the huge knob on Connor's thick but short penis, and knew that for the time being, Officer Connors would be suffering from blue balls unable to ejaculate with his restraint in place.

A week later, Officer Connor Anderson was in the basement of the rectory, in the room that Father Richardson had been maintaining for Johnny's use. While Johnny had watched, and filmed, he had been stripped and then thoroughly bathed and washed by the priest, including handling of his penis when he pissed, and two soapy enemas to clean out his rectum which drew grunts and groans from the unfamiliar intrusion. Connor had been gagged and shackled during these procedures, and now he was bound on the queen size bed. He was on his knees, with a spreader bar separating his ankles widely. His arms were tethered over his head to a bar suspended from eye-hooks in the ceiling. His uniform cap was on, as well as his empty Sam Browne belt. His cock restraint had been removed, and through gentle handling by the priest, Officer Anderson was erect and already dripping drops of pre-fuck. His gag remained in place, and a look of concern and grunts of protest came from behind it. That is when Johnny brought Brent into the room.

Brent was in jeans, t-shirt and flip-flops. He'd already showered, but Johnny had Father Richardson take him into the bathroom. "Father, I think Brent needs to piss and then please give him an enema." Brent was distracted, looking at the person on the bed, bound and gagged with a policeman's hat on, and a belt. But before he could say anything, he heard Johnny's instructions to the priest and wanted to protest.

"Aw common Johnny, I can piss myself, and no more enemas, jeez, please no more dude? I've done everything you've asked, Christ, gimme a break."

Johnny did not answer, but nodded to the priest who took the compliant teenager by his arm and led him to the bathroom. Brent looked back at Johnny as he went with the Father, an expression of pleading on his face, but he got no response from the thirteen year old. Soon he could hear Brent's zipper being lowered, the rustle of his jeans and briefs, and then pissing, knowing that Father Richardson was holding the big boy penis even as it slowly erected. Then after stripping off his clothes and flip-flops, Brent bent over and leaned against the counter. He was instructed to push back, like he was going to shit, so Father Richardson could gently slide the greased nozzle of the enema into Brent's tight rectum. Father looked down to see Brent curl his long, thick toes into the bathroom mat as the unerring nozzle breached his tight portal, and made his ass wriggle as it slowly tickled its way up to his prostate.

"Oooohh fuck, take it easy Father, jeez, aaaaawwwww… " Brent moaned as the plastic nozzle finally bumped against his prostate, making him clench before the clamp was released and the warm soapy water drained into his colon. "Aaaaaaagggghhhhhh… Brent groaned as the water filled him, and his prick hardened even more, now drooling pre-cum from the combined pressures in his rectum. He was allowed to evacuate his bowels on the toilet, while the randy priest fisted his leaky cock knob, and then the procedure was repeated, making sure he was clean and his balls ready to scum. Then the priest used a soapy wash cloth to wipe him down, paying careful attention the sensitive anus lips, pushing the terry cloth into the dimpled opening with his finger to make sure it was clean. Now the horny teenager, who had not ejaculated for almost a week, was ready, panting and grunting from the way Father Richardson strummed his hunky athletic frame, touching, pinching and tugging as he followed Johnny's instructions to prepare Brent.

Brent was led to the bed, where Johnny revealed what was to occur. "Brent, dude it's time you learned that you're no better than Father Richardson. Just cause you let other guys suck your dick doesn't mean that you aren't a cocksucker or a punk. You like it like a dog loves a bone. I see how much you love it when you big dick gets sucked and jacked, when people lick your body and pinch your tits. You whine and moan like any bitch in heat. But you think that makes you straight cause you're not doing anything, and others are servicing you. Well dude, you're gonna find out that you're no better than the rest of us… and I'll bet you're gonna like it. Get up on the bed."

"Hold on Johnny, Jesus, I've done everything you've asked, but I'm not gonna become a cocksucker… so forget it dude, that's it… I'm not doing it – common, I can't… please, don't ask me to do this… don't dude, common, I've kept my part of the deal!"

Johnny glared at Brent, and began to reach for the belt he had brought with him. Perhaps he had to give Brent another spanking to get his dick up, and his mind straight. "No you haven't dude… to keep our deal, you gotta do everything I ask… and no questions. I told you that when we met at my place, and you agreed, and you've had to have your attitude adjusted before… remember? There isn't anything you won't do… because if I want it, you better do it, otherwise those pics and the new ones I've got are going out to the world. Face it dude, you're fucked up for the rest of middle school and high school. For the next four years, if you're good, you'll get lots of sex, cum a lot, and then when you go to college you'll be free. But in the meantime, you're mine. See that dude on the bed, he's a cop… and he's gagged and tied down. If he can't escape, dude you've got no chance. Now shut up, and get on the bed, NOW!"

Father Richardson stared in amazement at Johnny and his brash confident tone, reflecting a man much older and mature than his thirteen years.

Brent looked down at his athletic big boy feet, and shifted his weight from one to the other. As he gazed down, he was amazed to see that his cock was erect, bobbing up and down with its prominent curve and fat knob, wet from the early fuck lust that was drooling out his piss lips. He was a fucking whore, his cock needed constant attention, and there was something about being at the mercy of this punk kid that made his heart pound. Looking up and away, with an expression of resignation, he walked over to the bed, and climbed up on it, his cock bobbing from side to side from the movement, having lost none of its tumescence.

When he climbed up, Johnny directed him to go behind Officer Anderson. Connor turned his head, and babbled through his gag, mumbling incoherently, his eyes following Brent's movements. The fifteen year old hunk looked up at the protesting police officer's face, his eyes open wide, but he knew he had to do what the little punk told him to do. When he got behind Connor, Johnny gave him his orders: "Dude, see those big boy feet on our cop here, they're clean and Father here has massaged them with stuff that make 'em soft and smooth. Now they need you dude, so get your mouth down there, and start sucking on the pig's piggies, and use your hands to scratch and tickle the other one."

One last time, Brent looked up despondent and pathetic, pleading with his eyes. The thirteen year old overseer looked at his pitilessly, having no intention of giving him respite. So Brent lowered his mouth toward the thick, wriggling toes of the police officer whose grunts and babbling continued to be muffled and indecipherable through his gag.

Connor was proud of his feet in an unconscious male way. They had made him fast and powerful on the football field, with quick moves in hundreds of outdoor basketball games, riding bikes as a kid, running around with his buddies and playing all day long. As a kid he was often in flip-flops or barefeet, and still on weekends, he aired those big dogs out and let other men and women wonder if their size and musculature hinted at size and strength elsewhere. As a cop, Connor's feet had made him successful in the academy competing against other guys, and now as a beat officer they pounded the pavement in his regulation boots, heating up and getting wet and stinky after a long day. But a quick shower and his flip flops always restored the soft soles, and allowed him to flex and curl his thick, long toes. When he fucked Ginny, he often used his feet to drive or to balance as he corkscrewed his shaft into her sticky cunt. And he remembered his buddy in high school, who taught him the connection between his feet and his dick, sucking on them to earn a chance at Connor's thick, leaky dick. Now another male, who relied on his feet to make him both successful as well as vulnerable, was about to service his toes in ways no one had since his buddy in high school. But then, it was private… now it was in front of other guys… fucking humiliating.

Brent's tongue came out slowly, and lashed underneath the toes, at first intimidated by their wriggling and thrusting movements, trying to avoid contact with Brent's mouth. But every time Brent touched another body in a sexual way, his cock would betray him, and once it did, his brain seemed to follow. Johnny watched as Brent's prong already erect, began to pulse, reaching up to his stomach and at the same time, both his eyes closed and his mouth closed (over the meaty cop toes). Now his nimble tongue worked even as Connor's toes flexed, licking and sucking them and his other hand went to Connor's other foot, gently tickling and stroking the pale, soft sole. Connor squealed into his gag, and his prick went brick hard, dripping clear drops of pre-cum onto the bed as the penis throbbed from the excitement of having his feet suckled and tickled.

Connor threw his head back, howling into the gag from the maddening tickling of his feet. As he did so, Father Richardson reached up to the man's curved and hairy pecs and searched through the thick blond hair that covered cop's chest to find the rubbery cones of his teats that just peaked through the forest. He licked both of his index fingers and grasped the firm nubbins and began to twist and gently scratch them. Connor was lost, the two sensations were driving him wild, and he thrust out his chest, even as he desperately wrenched his toes to try and escape from Brent's lingual and digital ministrations. That's when Johnny reached between the splayed legs of the hairy cop, and scratched his nail against the meaty connection between Connor's hanging ball sack and his thick cock root. As his fingernail dragged across this sensitive spot, the policeman's penis burped pre-snot, wetting the entire, unattended glans, and continuing to drip onto the bed. "Wwwwwwaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh…uuuuuuggghhh, oooooofffffffff … uuuuuuuuggghhhhhhh" Connor grunted into his gag, his eyes now rolling the back of his head as his handsome body was assaulted from all sides. Ever in control, Connor was out of control and his body was no longer his to command. He was being played with like a pet, and his insatiable sexual drive prevented him from rejecting the sweet sensations that were molesting him.

After ten continuous and grueling minutes of this torture, Johnny ordered Brent to get up and get between Connor's legs. The cop was now covered with a fine sheen of sweat, and it helped lubricate both the priest's and Johnny's fingers as they played with the man's horny body. Now Johnny was getting to a place where Connor had little experience, but was about to learn new things about himself.

"K dude, now get you tongue on the cop's butt hole. I wanna see you licking and tonguing his hole, and then I want you to get a finger inside him and give him a good ass frig."

Once again Brent pleaded with his eyes-nodding his head as if to say "no," and gaving a disgusted look to his teenage master. But his throbbing penis seemed to lead him slowly and inexorably into position. Once he parted the thick dark hair between the furred and taut cheeks of the cop, exposing the pink, ragged slit of his anus now tightly clenched, Brent closed his eyes and thrust out his tongue, licking and flicking as he followed his instructions. The flesh was damp from Connor's perspiration, but he was clean from his own shower and enema earlier, and as Brent realized there was no raunchy scent or taste, his tongue picked up speed.

Connor was shocked by the sensation against his ass pucker. He clenched his glutes in the vain hope of preventing the soft, wet sensation lapping against his previously inviolate anus. But while his sphincter tightened against the poking tongue and its tingling attack, he could not stop the novel sensation rolling back and forth against the anal lips. Father Richardson alternated gentle pinches of his nipples, then lowered his mouth to one nipple while he rolled the other, making the captive policeman hiss into his gag, reflexively arching to thrust his pec toward the sucking lips. Ah, the whorish teats were hungering for the fingering and sucking they were getting from the priest. At the same time, the teenage jock began to chew the crevice of the cop, licking and gently biting the virgin territory, causing the big man to grind his hips to seek respite from the nipping teeth and wriggling tongue. Now Connor's toes were curling, but not from sucking on his toes or scrabbling fingers, but from the tongue-lashing he was receiving on his sensitive anal knot.

Connor recalled how it felt to have his first medical exam after he had finished the academy. He was called into the doctor's office, and the older male who was ruggedly handsome and graying just slightly, had fingers the size of a small anal prod. Connor recalled how he blushed furiously when the doctor's insistent rubbing of his prostate made him ejaculate copious ropes of thick, sticky white jism onto the exam table against which he had pushed in prick in the vain hope he could stop the sensation that immediately built up when his rectum was breached. The doctor had laughed and said not to worry, that it seemed like every other cop he had tested had done the same thing. But to Connor, it seemed that the doctor had kept his finger up there a bit longer than necessary, and used the extra time to take a sperm sample from the clinging dregs that covered his fat, still tumescent glans. Now Johnny had Brent down between the captive cop's legs, prying into his anal crack, seeking the private and sensitive trench where even toilet paper made his cock occasionally stiffen, and where during showers Connor would on occasion slip his finger in to cause an immediate ejaculation when he needed to get a load off.

To keep the cop on the edge, Johnny used his thumb and forefinger (covered with finger sheaths made from medical rubber gloves and paint brush bristles), to gently scour the glans of the cop's fat cock, tickling and rubbing it-collecting the thick pre-ejaculate and smoothing it over the raging cock knob. Fuck it was amazing to see a big hunky police man in his hat and belt, helpless and writhing in his bonds to escape the delicious sensations at his most private locations, wheezing and whining into the gag that kept him from shouting for relief and release. His fingers were scrabbling helplessly behind his back, involuntarily moving to stop the wicked sensations that were driving Connor insane.

Johnny made Brent get up, and take the same position as the cop in front of the bound man. Then he cuffed Brent's hands behind him, used a spreader bar to keep his legs apart, and made sure that the teenager's large, curved shaft was up against the rigid, short but thick shaft of the policeman. Then after gagging Brent, Johnny took the circlets he'd used previously on Brent and fixed them around both men's glans, making sure they were also connected. Both men squealed incoherently through their gags, begging the teenage sadist to spare them. But Johnny worked methodically as Father Richardson himself leaked copiously in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Once the two men's cocks were bound together by the electrical wire, then Johnny and Father Richardson slipped in two respective prods into each man's rectum. Brent wiggled his butt as if he objected mightily but at the same time, as the prod slid home his penis throbbed madly, leaking more clear sap, knowing how hard he was going to ejaculate from the sensation deep within his bowels. When Johnny went to insert the prod in Connor, with the priest holding the law man's butt cheeks apart, the cop yelled into his gag, and tried as hard as he could to squeeze his ass muscles. Johnny was prepared, he had Father Richardson reach up and twist the cop tits with saliva moistened fingers, and the moment Connor reacted to the delicious pinches, the young teen slid the lubricated prod into the cop's rectum when his focus was distracted.

"UUUuuuummmmmmmm… hhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuhhh, uuuuuummmmmmm!" Connor's eyes went wide, then closed tightly and he grimaced as his ass muscles reflexively gripped the anal prod and he felt the customary soreness at the first intrusion into the bowels. Miraculously, he didn't ejaculate! It wasn't painful, it was a fullness and ache from what the prod was bumping… his fucking prostate, shit, the same place the God damn doctor had poked when he had his medical for the job. He acted like he fucking hated it when the doctor slid his gloved finger in him during the exam, making his cock twitch and then ejaculate spontaneously. But secretly, Connor like Brent was an overly sexed male whose conscious existence was driven by his unconscious fuck lust. Even Connor's tits hardened when the doc drove him up on his toes by thrusting that thick digit deeply into him.

Now Johnny's prod had done the same thing, and it was ready along with the other toys Johnny had affixed. With a flick of the switch, he had the two erect prongs buzzing from the low-level electric current coming from the transformer. The two fat glans were rubbing against each other within the confines of the flexible wires, their respective circumcision scars grinding against each other. Their slippery pre-cum lubricated the friction between their erectile tissue, and their hips were thrusting adding to the frottage between the two – teenage hunk and hunky cop. Their thrusting was exaccerbated by the deep anal massage from the vibrators humming within each of them. Johnny got up and went behind Brent, thrusting his tongue into the teen hunk's ear, while Father Richardson gave the same treatment to Officer Anderson. They each put their fingers on the tips of the tit nubs of both men, scratching gently, and then beginning with the soft pinches, and electric twists that sent jolts down to the rectums and pricks of both sexual animals. It took about fifteen minutes, but the pulsing glans kept grinding against each other with the tingling buzz of the electrical current driving them further and further up the ladder to a huge cum. Johnny snapped pictures as both men started to gasp, and both closed their eyes and leaned their heads back as both pricks stretched out, the fat knobs expanding obscenely. Then wads of sticky sperm bolted from each set of piss lips, coating each man's stomach and making their glans even more sensitive from the slippery lubricant as they continued to rub against each other. Now their groans and cries became high pitched squeals as the overly sensitive glans continued to be buzzed and rubbed, as did the aching prostates in their clenching rectums. The room smelled of cum, the sharp bleachy-starchy pungent odor, and the globs of thick white pudding coating their strumming penises.

Fuck Johnny loved managing these two hunky sex addicts to spurt their private male seed over their bodies. Their big cocks drove their brains the moment they were erect, and no matter how much they protested, they would spit cum constantly once someone started to tease and play with their bodies. The afternoon was just beginning, but before it was over, the hunky teenage athlete and the buff police officer would ejaculate twice from the prods and coils, and once more from a sixty-nine, bound to each other. Shit it was hot, seeing the two of them suck the other's pricks with the threat of one more ejaculation for the loser. Johnny and Father Richardson played with Connor's body in the shower one more time, torquing their soapy fists around his fat cock knob, milking a dribbling ejaculation from him, but enjoying the post-cum jerking of his body from their continued attention to the overly-sensitive glans when he lost the contest to Brent.

Johnny finished the day by leaving the two spent men bound to chairs while he had Father Richardson strip him, lick his body from head to toe, tongue his asshole, and then slowly masturbate his own thick priest cudgel with the bristle gloves until he came to a shattering ejaculation which he was required to collect in a dish. Then using a small paint brush, he brushed and basted Johnny's cock with his cum, till is was covered in the copious, thick spooge that had been in priest's balls since the last time Johnny had allowed him to cum. Once Johnny was painted with the priest's cum, Father Richardson had to slowly suck him to a thrilling, bucking cum. Then once again, the priest was required to masturbate himself, this time using an anal prod as well, and catching the cum on the plate once more. This time, Johnny made his coat his toes with the cum, and had the good Father suck them clean while he jerked himself for a third time. This ejaculation was caught in his fist, and then after licking his palm, he had to suck Johnny off one last time before the afternoon's pleasure ended. The Priest, Cop and Brent were returned to their cock restraints, and they would begin another slow and desperate week without being allowed to ejaculate.

Chapter 14
Johnny Controls Cocks

Now to add to his woes, Johnny decided to enlist Amy into his plans for Brent's big boy dick. Johnny contrived to have Brent beg Amy to help discipline him when he screwed up at school or in baseball. So with Johnny's guidance, Brent regularly shared with Amy a series of infractions for which he would need to be punished. Amy, who was still the benefactor of Brent's dexterous tongue, getting at least one series of orgasms each week as the teenage hunk was on his knees licking and sucking her leaking pussy and insatiable clit. Since they were boy friend and girl friend, Amy wanted to assist Brent in any way she could, and almost felt that he was allowing her into his private sanctum by asking for her to assist in disciplining him. In some sense, she was helping Brent be a better teenage boy, one who lived by the rules and remained under control. What she did not know, was just how much 'under control' Brent was in fact.

Brent could not get enough of Amy's pussy since it was the only 'normal' sexual contact he was allowed, and it was the one time a week he had permission to be erect and leaking with a girl. He would do anything to sluice his tongue between Amy's soft, swollen cunt lips, searching out for her growing clit, lavishing attention on in and also snaking his dextrous tongue into her snatch to scoop out the copious and flowing teenage girl juice. On one occasion he had gone under a cubicle desk at the public library deep in the stacks, lowered her shorts and panties, then licked her blond muff till her clit went rigid and throbbed uncontrollably. She had to put her head down on the desk and bite her sweater to keep from squealing out loud as Johnny's insistent tongue rasped back and forth and over and around her spasming clitoris. She came at least three times as she squirted her tangy sauce onto his tongue and over his face. On another occasion, Brent had taken her behind the bleachers one night and pushed her legs over her head as he sucked her to a four cum climax, wrapping his tongue around her throbbing clit till she had to push his head off, and beg him to stop. Brent was hooked on Amy's cunt juice, and lived to hear her beg and squeal when his tongue lapped through her puffy, sticky pussy lips, and curled around her thick, knobby clit, his rough index finger gently drilling deep into her cunt to stroke where his prick longed to be. On some occasions, he suckled her turgid tits and finger-banged her to a cum before he gave her the tonguing that she loved so much.

So when Brent asked her to help him with his discipline, Amy felt that was the least she could do. He could not let her touch his prick, except by rubbing him through his pants and briefs because of the sheath which Johnny used to restrain his penis. He made up an excuse that he was afraid that he could not control himself, and so to prevent any 'accidents,' he would take care of her-both demonstrating his affection and his desire to please her. He persuaded her that he felt that the discipline was her contribution to their relationship, her way of showing how much she cared. At first it seemed strange, but if Brent thought it would help, she would do it. Besides, it was kind of exciting when she punished Brent. It made her cunt drool. In fact, after a while, they would administer Brent's discipline first, and then Brent would lick her cunt, relieving the sweet itch that would develop when she disciplined him, making her pussy leak and her clit burn.

Brent obediently gave her the instructions he received from Johnny. He would explain that he had messed up at baseball practice, or some insignificant thing would happen in a game, like walking a batter. Or if he failed to complete a homework assignment, or got a grade below a "B" on a paper or quiz, or was late to class, that was cause for discipline. Amy suggested that he was being too hard on himself, but he insisted as Johnny had ordered him to. Then following Johnny's direction, and already hard under his pants in anticipation of Amy's hands on his ass, he would lower his jeans only, exposing his brief covered buns. He would lie over Amy's lap, his prick hard, aching and throbbing, but still bound in its sheath and lock. Then she would spank his taut buttocks, feeling them tighten each time her palm smacked against the firm, hairy boy cheeks. Whack, whack, whack, whack… smacking her small hand over his warm glutes, making him squirm and grind his aching cock against her legs. Occasionally his squirming would shift his ass, and her hand would land in the crevice between his buttocks, landing into the cleft and slapping his twitching anus. "Aaagggghhhh&qquot; he would grunt, his cock dripping and throbbing helplessly in the binding sheath, wishing he could strip and fuck Amy into oblivion. He could not cum though, and so the punishment was double, not only the feeling of her hands on his ass, but a raging erection that could not expand to an ejaculation. His prick would leak copiously, wetting the front of his briefs, but he would quickly pull up his jeans after she finished spanking him. Then he would begin to make-out with Amy, thrusting his tongue into her mouth using his tongue as a replacement for his prick, and squeezing her tits as he prepared her so he could lower her panties and finger and lick her to her orgasm. These sessions would leave him with blue balls, so that when he would finally get together with Johnny, he was actually grateful for the younger boy's attentions to relieve is aching nuts.

When Johnny's or Brent's parents were away for a night or weekend, Johnny would arrange for a night together. Johnny would tie Brent down to the bed spread-eagled, remove his cock restraint, and then would start with his long, wiggling toes, to suck, lick, scratch and finger his way to the big boy's ears. Brent's handsome and athletic body would writhe and bounce as best it could, squealing with laughter as Johnny tickled him, groaning and pleading as his prick, his nipples, and his anus were teased to the edge of ejaculation. He'd keep Brent's beautiful curved shaft throbbing, leaking all over his taut stomach muscles, but would only tease and briefly play with the aching boner making Johnny beg.

"Fuck dude, please… pleaaaaasssseee, bring me off… shit, my nuts are killing me, common "J", don't hang me out dude, lemme shoot, fuck… lemme shoot… jerk me dude, jerk me hard…I'm yer slut… I'm yer bitch… make me cum dude… ooohhhhh Christ, make me fucking cum!"

Johnny often paid special attention to Brent's over-sized cock knob, the slick glans soaked with clear teen pre-fuck, and itching for someone's touch. Soft bristles, electric tooth brushes, cotton garden gloves, finger massagers, and an electric glans cap (which Johnny made), were each used to make the older teen climb the ladder to a cum, only to be held under control until Johnny was ready to milk him.

"Don't worry dude, you're gonna fire like a cannon when I get you there, and then you're gonna cum again, and again. We got all night, and I'm gonna milk you like a cow's udder," Johnny would say. Brent would groan, because he knew that Johnny also loved to torture his sensitive glans after he would ejaculate… then give him some time, and start all over again. Many a time Johnny smiled as Brent howled and pleaded as his thumb slid back and forth, over and around the bigger boy's over-wrought glans after he had ejaculated, keeping the smooth skin taut, and creating a sensation that almost drove Brent insane. But Brent also knew that he was a whore for Johnny's attentions. No one could suck his dick knob, or tickle his ass, or suck his toes, or ream out his navel or ears, like the punk. And as much as he hated to admit it, he loved having Johnny work his fat cock knob till it ached. Johnny would play Brent's body like a musical instrument, making him squeal and squirm, leak and groan, beg and shoot… and shoot, and shoot. Fuck, the damn kid could milk him three or four times in a row, and his God damn prick would respond every time, hungry for Johnny's roiling fist and talented fingers. The All-American junior-high hunk was a fucking boy-bitch for someone to play with his cock, and of all people, he was the teen-toy for a younger boy.

Johnny was naked on the bed, lying on his side against Brent's warm, big body, his own throbbing boy dick leaking and rubbing against Brent's hairy leg. The younger teen suckled on one of Brent's stiff paps, and his fist closed around the fat cock head, palming and jerking it in the very way that made Brent sing like a girl. He was making Brent drive his athletic butt into the bed, then up to Johnny's talented fist, hoping to achieve the cum he needed so bad.

"Oh God dude, jerk my prick, common, I've been waiting for this all week, Christ, I fucking need this so bad, jeez, don't fuck around, please, don't play… jerk my meat, make me fucking shoot my scum… oooohhh yeah, there, right there, rub it, work it, milk me dude, please… fuck… please!"

Johnny's cock would throb when Brent begged him, knowing that only a few months ago the big boy didn't even know he existed, and would never have allowed Johnny to touch him, much less play with his prick whenever he wanted. Now he was a big-boy whore, constantly in need of Johnny to relieve him of his sticky, tangy teen sap, and willing ultimately to do anything to get that relief.

There were times when Brent would try to seduce Johnny into giving him relief… coming over to his house with an excuse to study, dressed in shorts with no t-shirt and in flip-flops, hoping that the sight of his already mature teenage body would persuade Johnny to strip and use him. But Johnny was in no hurry. After all, he had other boys and men to manage, others to milk and use. He had all the time and stock he needed to keep his libido satiated. But he loved to make Brent hope by suggesting things for him to do to earn Johnny's approval. When he would come over, Johnny would make him lie back on the bed, lower his shorts to his ankles, lift his legs up to his chest and finger his hairy ass pucker. Brent would do it, even though he was completely humiliated, because he wanted desperately for Johnny to remove the cock restraint and let him cum. Instead, he often got bluer balls, a teased cock knob, along with itchy holes and hard tits, but no relief for his throbbing boy prong. Sometimes he had to bend over and grasp his ankles and ask Johnny to finger his hole. Sometimes he had to pull his feet to his head and suck his own toes. Sometimes he hand to masturbate his own cock knob with the restraint in place. All this for the few times Johnny would relent and then give Brent the excruciating ejaculations he wanted and needed. These rare opportunities and few times kept hope alive for Brent and others Johnny managed, making them willing to do anything to try and get the ejaculations they craved.

But when he had the teen tied down on his bed for a milking session, Johnny just kept toying with the bigger boy's fat cock knob, thumbing the constantly expanding erectile tissue, then abandoning it just as Brent would reach a thrusting crescendo, ready to spit his seed. Up and down Johnny took Brent hunky body, making him stretch out his long, thick toes, or curl them, depending on the way he would toy with him. Fuck he loved to see Brent's toes curl from the helpless need and attention. He would abandon the cock, and then slip his index finger up and into Johnny's tight asshole, and spend at least fifteen minutes finger banging the straight teen. Shit, Brent would grunt and groan the loudest when Johnny's insistent finger would rub back and forth over his taut fuck nut, wringing a delicious ache from his ass, and forcing him to tighten his butt cheeks from the intensity of the sensation. That's when Brent's toes would really curl tight, and he would tug at his bonds, grunting and squeezing his eyes shut, his penis throbbing to cum but left unattended. He knew if he came without permission, Johnny would punish him either by torturing his knob or denying him any further cums. So he would thrash and buck, struggling to keep himself under control.

"Dude, its time for you to get your cum… but you're gonna have to cooperate, 'kay…?"

"Fuck, anything, please, do me dude, do me now…!"

But Johnny was not going to let Brent off that easily. So as Brent babbled, asking for release, Johnny unwrapped the velcro on one leg, and attached the ankle to a rope and velcro restraint at the head of the bed. He did the same with the other ankle, and then began pulling a rope that was connected to the two. As he pulled, Brent's long legs moved up, his knees bent, and then kept going. Johnny stopped, and tied off each of the ropes attached to the ankles to a bar running between each of the bedposts to give the bed stability. Now Brent was bent in half, his knees at his chest, and his ankles spread apart over this head. Johnny stuck several large, stuffed pillows under Brent's lower back to support his body and prevent him from hurting himself. His ass was up and the furry trench was spread apart, the ragged cleft of his anus barely visible through the thick fur.

Johnny went up to the big boy feet flapping at the head of the bed on either side of Brent's handsome face, the toes were again wriggling, and he grasped one of the feet and slipped the toes in his mouth, and began to suck on them. He looked down at Brent and smiled. Brent was not paying attention to Johnny. His body was folded to the point where his long, curved shaft was bobbing against his face, leaving sticky pre-cum tracks on his nose, lips and chin. That is what Johnny intended. He drew his fingernail directly down Brent's pale, high arched sole and as he opened his mouth to squeal from the tickling, Johnny used his free hand to grasp Brent's boner and slip it into the boy's protesting mouth. Just like that, Brent had his fat cock head, and at least one inch [2½ cm] of the shaft lodged in his mouth. Johnny watched as Brent's Adam's Apple moved as he swallowed and struggled to adjust his breathing. He grunted and tried to speak around his leaky knob, but the words were garbled, and came out as grunts "… hooooowwwwttttt, haaaaaakkkkkeee hithout… nnnnggggghhhhhhhhhhh… hhhhhoooouuuuttttt, mmmpppppphhhhh."

But Johnny just ignored Brent. It would be the first time the jock hunk would suck his own prick, but not the last.

Johnny got the electrical circlets for Brent's nipples, and turned the transformer up. Immediately the hum and buzz of the circlets made Brent's nipples go hard, and then Johnny took his free index finger and slowly dragged it back and forth over the anal pucker, now obscenely exposed. Then he scratched his fingernail against the sensitive lips, and as the knot spasmed, Johnny again slid his finger into the older boy's bowels and up his rectum. He had dipped the finger into a jar of Vasaline, so it slid right up and in, and as he penetrated the writhing teen's asshole, the finger slid against, then past the thick ring of Brent's fuck nut.

"HHHHHMMMMMmmmmmmppppphhhhh… nnnnngngnngnnnnhhh, aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh," Brent squealed around his fat cock knob, mouthing it unconsciously as he gurgled and his throat vibrated from the sounds helplessly drawn from him.

"That's it dude, slide your tongue and lips around that muther… suck it, yeah, suck it big boy… lick that fat cock and drink your own jizz…fuck yeah, eat your prick you slutty jocksucker!"

Brent was out of control. His nipples were tingling from the electrical current, sending jolts directly to his ass, and as Johnny's finger slowly reamed in and out, Brent clenched his ass muscles tight when his prostate was stroked. Then his penis expanded each time his ass flexed, the piss lips widening to drool more sap onto his lapping tongue. Now Brent's toes were clenched tight, the fuck finger making him squeeze them along with his ass muscles, and he continued to gulp, swallowing his saliva and the drizzling pre-cum as he sucked on the tender prick tip.

Johnny was in heaven, his own penis drooling and his fist sliding back and forth over the tip, as he watched Brent's handsome mouth work feverishly and uncontrolled over his own penis. Brent couldn't stop himself. The finger in his ass, the tickling of his feet, and the electric current running through his nipples reduced him to a shuddering, twisting punk, sucking his own boner. The middle school's jock stud was a boy cunt, tied and spread, used and teased, and sucking his own uncontrollable boner until it passed the point of no return!

"Faster dude, eat that prick… faster, suck it, suck hard… yeah, feels great doesn't it, now you know that you can give yourself relief… you'll be dreaming of putting your legs over your head every night so you can suck it, huh, wishing you could be a dick slut every night with your own fat prick…yeah dude, lick it and suck it…make it squirt, fuck yeah!"

Brent's eyes were glazed. He was twisting his lips and vacuuming his mouth around the bulging cock head. His lips would slide down about an inch [2½ cm], and then slide up and grip around the thick corona, his tongue lashing the sensitive flesh. He finally closed his eyes, and his rectum gripped Johnny's fucking finger as it slid one last time over his prostate, squeezing so hard the younger boy thought Brent's ass muscles might break his finger. He could see Brent's prick expand one last time, and suddenly, Brent was gulping and his eyes went open staring with shock. "MMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNNN!" His prick was firing bolts of thick gism into his mouth, and he was forced to swallow fast in order to keep ahead of the sticky starch filling his mouth over and over. Even as he swallowed, he was whining, working desperately to avoid choking on his viscous teen sap.

"FUCK YEAH… drink it dude, drink it down, suck your own sap, better keep that tongue working on that prick knob… don't stop, or I'll slip the prod up your ass and turn it on while it's resting on your fuck nut… so keep sucking dude… suck it hard."

Johnny's exhortations kept Brent working his lips and tongue, even after the cum stopped drooling from his prick. It had been so long, the cock would not lose its firmness, and the glans was still expanded within the hot, sucking confines of it's owners mouth. Now Brent closed his eyes again and groaned out loud, "aaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" over and over, from the sensitivity of his tongue rasping over and over the helpless, captive prick tip. Finally Johnny allowed him to stop. The bigger boy collapsed as his legs were unloosened, and he gasped for air as Johnny went to the bonds to begin to release him.

Soon, Brent was tied down again, and in fifteen minutes, Johnny was lying between his hairy legs, begining to masturbate the big teen, using two fingers of a medical glove with the head of a child's toothbrush glued to the finger pad of his thumb and index finger, each covered with the short, soft brush bristles. Dipped in the Vaseline, Johnny went back to pinching and plying Brent's stiff teats now free from the electric current, and mauling the still stiff prick shaft and the always reliable prick knob, waiting for its dose of agonizing attention. Within thirty minutes, Brent went through another howling ejaculation, saying anything Brent wanted him to say, and making his mouth as dirty and slutty as the younger teen demanded.

Later in the early morning hours, Johnny woke up Brent, who remained tethered, one more time. Using the anal prod and his own now experienced thirteen year old fist, he worked another exciting performance out of Brent, making the bigger boy groan, plead and writhe through one more helpless ejaculation, his fat knob only able to drool cum, but still throbbing and shuddering from the sensations. Now matter how he protested, Brent always responded to the stimulation, his all-American looks and demeanor betrayed by the ever whorish lust that made his cock and the rest of his hunky body respond to any touch. The next morning, Johnny helped the teenage hunk piss and shit, overseeing and observing every normally private function – shaking his penis off and wiping his asshole, then gave him an enema, and showering him. During the shower he could not resist playing with the big boy body one more time. He tied Brent's arms up over the shower head, then he milked Brent with his mouth and fist one last time, enjoying how the big boy thrust his hips automatically to surrender to the sucking mouth on his tingling glans; closing his eyes and yielding to fingers reaching up to pluck his tits and under his balls to finger Brent's boy hole. Johnny was on top of the world, he was finally in complete control of other guy's cocks, both big boys and men. But most of all, he had fully and completely captured Brent McDermott's big boy boner… and had total control of it.

Nor was Brent his only success. Perhaps the most fulfilling capture for Johnny was Officer Connor Anderson. After discovering him on one of his tapes of Father Richardson's confessional, he had him join on a regular basis with others and for private sessions. His most recent private session with the married police officer was one of the most fulfilling he'd experienced.

Anderson was sullen, and serious each time he met with Johnny. It was beyond his comprehension that he could be under the control of a 13-14 year old punk kid, a kid who did not need a gun or his fists to keep a tough guy like Connor Anderson in line. Here was a mature, masculine, strong, athletic young male, trained to use deadly force and hold his own on the streets. He had dragged in punk kids from twelve to twenty and made them cry like babies for mercy, but now, at least once a month, he was on his knees, usually bound, letting this fucked up kid milk his thick, unprincipled prick. It was enough that his cock was now caged, so no more satisfying blow jobs from the faggot priest. But to protect his reputation in the station, he had to let this kid who was barely old enough to play with his own pud, work his bloated cock head till it screamed to cum… and eventually did, inundating everything around it in thick, tangy sauce. Then the screaming was usually coming from Connor, begging the little bastard to stop torturing his sensitive knob after he'd spewed his load.

At their most recent session, in a safe house used by the cops to which Anderson had access, the big boy cop was bound on the queen size iron bed in the main bedroom. He was on his back, with his wrists bound to this ankles, his legs spread by a broom handle to which his ankles were also tied. Connor had his hat on, and his Sam Browne belt, but he was naked and trussed. He also had a ball gag conveniently stuffed into his mouth, preventing him from saying anything to Johnny. With a triangular pillow underneath his lower back to support him, Connor was spread open like a big dicked dish for Johnny to enjoy, and enjoy it he was. The chances of getting so straight-acting, and straight-believing a guy as mature as Connor was unlikely. It was only because Anderson was scared of being kicked off the local constabulary, or ostracized as being a faggot, that he agreed to the blackmail that had him tied up like a dumb-and-full-of-cum dipshit. His mind worked feverishly to find a way to escape from his predicament. Johnny knew it might not last, and he was determined to 'milk' the opportunity, so to speak, as long as he could.

In that position, his hairy ass trench was deliciously displayed and the pink, ragged slit of his anus was barely visible behind the thick, blond fur that was wedged between his firm glutes. As usual, his short, but unusually thick cudgel was ramrod stiff, its bulging knob, with its oversized fat plum head, sopping in the copious pre-slop that dripped from the moment Connor got hard. His teats were stiff cones too, thrusting through the forest of blond on his chest and swirling around his nipples, and Connor's toes unconsciously and reflexively curled and unfurled, the extra long index toe looking like it was flipping Johnny the bird for his hated control over the police officer. Even Connor's toes had tufts of blond hair on the thick, long digits at their knuckles. But Johnny was unconcerned about Connor Anderson's anger and angst. He had pulled the young, trussed man to the edge of the bed so his asshole and butt cheeks were fully exposed to his ministrations, as well as the pale, smooth soles of his big, muscled feet. And in his hand, Johnny had a small fly-swatter, one he hand found in the shed out in the back yard; perfect for a tanning of the firm, hairy ass mounds of a bound law enforcement officer. The fly-swatter was obviously a toy, made of smooth and flexible plastic for a child to use. So it's coverage and sting were already limited. But Johnny has improvised it, adding a layer of bristles that he had carefully pruned from a wide, 6-inch [15 cm] painter's brush. You don't find brushes much anymore, but this one was full of dust and cobwebs in the shed, and clearly of no use to Johnny's father anymore. Still, it would serve a useful life cut into quarter inch [7 mm] bunches and glued through the tiny openings of the fly-swatter. Now it was time to try his device out.

Connor's eyes had widened when he saw the little fly-swatter, with its coating of short, stiff bristles. His toes reflexively curled, and his ass pucker tightened, as he shouted incoherently into the ball-gag: "Nnnnnnnnnnnnoooooo… nnnnnggggggghhh, sssssstttttttoooooo… pppppphhhhh, ssssshhhhhhhhiiiiiii… ttttttpppphhhh, nnnppppphh!.

Johnny let Officer Anderson plead a bit more, his babbling into the gag making no sense and without any hope of persuading his 13 year old captor. When Connor tried to buck away from the edge of the bed where he lay so exposed, that was when Johnny brought the flexible swatter down with a spat on Connor's firm globes! "Swat… Swat… Swat… Swat… Swat… Slap… Slap… Slap!" The firm, pale mounds, covered in thick blond fur, turned bright red, and just within the crack, the exposed slit winked from each resounding contact of the swatter and ass. Connor was helpless, and once again hard as a rock… his prick slapping against his firm abdominals as he futilely ground his ass into the bed, then bounced upwards, in some weird hope of escaping from the stinging blows. But with careful precision, they continued, and his cock ached from the fucking need to shoot a load despite his humiliation. "Whap, Whap, Whap, Whap…" The steady rain of slaps continued.

"AAAAAAAAiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee, nnnnnnpppppppphhhhhhhooooooo, aaaaaawwwwwww ggggggoooooooodddddmmmm… oooooooohhhhhhh… nnnnnnoooppphhhh, fuc… ph!"

Johnny smiled broadly looking right into the terrified eyes of the older police officer, loving it as the muscled cop's body was unable to escape the rain of smacks that peppered his ass cheeks. And now Johnny diversified his target, making sure to confuse his squealing victim. First on one pale sole, then on the other, then into the furred crack to scrape the bristles against the ragged anal slit, then against the exposed testicles, and most importantly across the fat, broad glans of his sticky wet prick head. Occasionally, Johnny was even able to land a blow on Connor's chest, seeking out the rubbery teats that seemed to like the bristles scratching across them. The bristles took much of the pain out of the swats, but never the less they hit with intensity and the firm little hairs scratched whatever they made contact with. On Connor's feet, they tickled insanely, on his balls they scratched even as the swatter caused the large nuts to ache, on his ass slit they scraped making his tighten his sphincter as much as possible to avoid any penetration beyond the surface, and over his leaky cock tip, they wrenched loud exclamations into the gag from the combination of intense tickling of his glans and scratching at the same time. His nipples just seemed to be harder and angrier as they poked up and out from the edge of firm, jutting pecs.

For twenty minutes, Johnny worked on the bound and sweating police officer, driving him insane from the wicked sensations. Then, grasping a toothbrush he had brought with him, he went to work on Connor's bound feet, brushing back and forth over the smooth sole, under the long, thick toes, and into the high arch. The tooth brush tickled the cop into gasping submission while Johnny then grasped his sticky boner at the same time, and slowly, every so slowly, masturbated the now sensitive and itching cock knob in his teenage fist. Connor wanted desperately to shout curses at the punk kid who was torturing him so sweetly, and to scrunch his feet so that the maddening tooth brush could not tickle him, but he was unable to do either, so he just bellowed into the gag, and finally shot wads and wads of thick cop gism into the palming fist that would not release him from its maddening and determined grip.

"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO… AAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE… AAAAAHHHHHH! He squealed in horror as the fist kept up its unrelenting massage on his spitting, expanded, bloated, cock knob. But the brush on his feet, distracting him, prevented him from concentrating on the desperate sensations on his over-wrought glans. That was just the beginning. Later, Johnny would slide a bristle finger up Connor's tightly clenched anus, scratching and tickling the entrance to his male fortress, and gradually slithering up to find his fat, hard fuck nut. Then he masturbated the cop from the inside out, using his fist as a sleeve into which the bucking policeman would spasmodically slide his still cum sticky fuck stick, as he moved haplessly to avoid the insistent frigging deep up his rectum. 'MMMMPPPPPPHHHHHH! AAAAAWWWWWKKKKKK! NNNNNOOOOOOGGH!"

Connor Anderson got the cum relief he had been seeking, but not the way he wanted it. He came five times on that bed, the fifth and last with a lubricated cotton garden glove wanking his inflamed cock knob into submission one last time while a whirring vibrator tickled his sore fuck nut to encourage him. But even when Johnny showered the defeated and exhausted cop later in the bathroom to clean him up, (still bound for Johnny's protection), the officer's unruly prick still stiffened. Now it was completely under the control and whim of its thirteen year-old master. He did not cum again, but between tit twists and soapy palming, Connor Anderson was erect when he locked back into his cock sheath that would keep him horny and desperate until the next milking session at Johnny's hands. Fuck Johnny loved his work!

Chapter 15 Finale
Johnny's Happy Ending

When they graduated, Brent and Amy went to a small religious college upstate. Brent continued his baseball career in college, becoming a Division III All-American and an all-conference player. He also remained an all-American piece of boy beef. His five inch [12½ cm] bone had filled out to a respectable eight inches [20 cm], and the knob had grown fatter and more sensitive over the years. The wide flange around the glans was so sensitive that Brent could not stand to have a fist roil over his knob, especially after a cum, and yet that is what transformed him into an All-American sex pig. His long, hairy toes, his jutting, ripe nipples, and his tight, itchy anus were all geared by nature to make him pant with lust every time he was touched by other than his own hands. Hell, even touching himself, to take a piss, to wipe his anus after a shit, as he soaped himself in the shower, always seemed to make his prick thicken, gain tumescence. His briefs were constantly stained with dried fuck-sap from repeated drips of pre-cum from his itchy prick tip. Behind the appearance of pious devotion, All-American values, and those striking good looks, Brent's life had an entirely new dimension that Johnny had made possible.

Amy also had matured, from a naïve junior high girl into a demanding highly sexual high school vixen. By the time they graduated, Johnny had shared with her his years of cock management, showed her the tapes, and made her pussy drool with the possibilities-all under the careful guidance of Johnny. After graduation, Brent was still under control in college, but now Amy was in charge with Johnny's blessing. Once they had settled in on the small, sleepy campus, Amy had found a brainy college geek with an oversized penis and libido who was happy to help her train and manage Brent. His name was Colin Cranford, and while skinny and shy, he had sexual needs that made him grind his prick into the bed sheets every night to spray thick wads of teenage spunk as he dreamed of hunky boys doing his bidding and girls who pussies itched constantly. Together Colin and Amy took complete charge of Brent who spent his first night standing naked in front of both, his hands locked behind his head, as Colin inspected every inch of his perfect body. Before that first night was through, Brent's unruly boner had spunked three times in Colin's relentless fist, his toes curling helplessly from the delicious friction that drove him so wild that Amy had to gag him. Together, they fashioned a routine that included paddling his ass, tying him down, and milking him endlessly for their pleasure-and his own.

Colin invented ingenious ways to drain Brent's fat nuts, and to make him perform even in public settings. One of Amy's favorite tricks was to have the three of them go out to dinner, and to have Colin, who for the opportunity to screw Amy had become a regular at the gym, unzip Brent under the table and slowly masturbate him to the edge of ejaculation for the entire period of the meal. Bent was not allowed to show any emotion, and usually when the waiter was dealing with Brent and the bill for the meal, Jeremy would focus on palming the big boy's throbbing glans-forcing him to curl his toes tightly, strain to keep his composure, and often sweat strangely even in an air-conditioned restaurant. Later, after Colin would be allowed to screw Amy, while Brent was bound and forced to watch – his prick drooling for relief, Brent would be required to both clean Jeremy's penis after his cum, and then lick out the cream pie from Amy's full pussy-giving her another cum. Together, Colin and Amy found many ways to have the handsome hunk drink other boy's sperm, as well as suck his own cock for relief. But no one would know that the star of the baseball team, and the wet dream of repressed boys and girls at the religious college, was a cock slut supreme.

When Brent graduated, he tried out for the minor leagues but the competition was just one level over his skills. He went on to the work world, taking a job in the nearest big town. That way, when he and Amy married they were able to blend into the background of the urban hustle and bustle. Brent became an assistant bank manager, dressed in handsome suits with leather cap-toes on his big boy feet. But more than once he had been taken into the vault by arrangement, and stripped naked to service hot young men and women whom Amy had discreetly obtained for sessions. No one knew how the handsome, well built young husband who seemed so much in control in every venture he pursued, was carefully governed at home, cock leashed at work, and always available to perform when instructed. Brent's boner had been conquered, mastered, and enslaved, and while it leaked beautifully and ejaculated powerfully, time and again, it was from age fourteen beyond Brent's jurisdiction. Now as he entered his young adulthood, he was just beginning to fully appreciate what it would mean for a lifetime of pleasure orchestrated for him and others, but not by him. Often he would stare at his throbbing bone, leaking and pulsing, helpless to take control of its beautiful, big knobbed and thick, wonder. Even the thought of stealing a moment of initiative over his bulging cock tip made his anus itch and his prostate throb. Brent was the poster-boy for those who wonder what rests behind the gorgeous faces of handsome, athletic young men-sexual need and surrender that is sublime.

When Wes graduated from high school and went on to college, Johnny knew that the big ego-driven boy could not stop seeking ways to have his fat cock serviced. All through middle school and high school he had found boys to crawl on the floor at his feet to get a suck on his fat, leaky glans. With a ready smile, and a sarcastically handsome expression, Wes made other boys seem small – and he liked it that way. Johnny had turned the tables on him once, and showed him how he could be made to surrender his body completely. Johnny showed Wes to what extremes a guy could be taken on his way to ejaculation, and Wes' constantly horny body readily performed. But it also showed Wes what he could do to other unsuspecting boys, especially those with big boy dicks and big boy bodies that had the germ of surrender in their personalities. After all, most guys don't want to think to hard; they just to be cock hard. They like to do what feels good, and shooting sperm is just about the most natural-feel good thing guys do. So Wes found big and small boys with hard dicks and uncontrollable urges to lick his toes, lave his anus, suckle his nips, and nurse his big cock head. But Johnny was only biding his time with Wes. When they got together through the interaction of their respective families, they kept a respectful distance from one another with Wes acting almost a bit leery of Johnny's shy smile. Over the years, Johnny wanted to make sure that Wes got accustomed to dominating other boys but remained fearful of him. For Johnny, waiting was a strategy, so that when Wes lost control again, he would long for it desperately, even though he would never have it back again.

When Wes graduated from high school, Johnny managed to give him a graduation gift that would transform his freedom into servitude. The gift was a music video DVD with a hidden program that downloaded into Wes' notebook. That allowed Johnny to monitor the older boy's e-mail and internet traffic on his laptop. Wes had gone to the University of Idaho, seeking the anonymity of a large school to seek his gratification and pleasures, while obtaining the college degree that would launch him on the road to financial and personal success. No matter how conservative the environment, no matter how homo-phobic the location, there are always boys who just need sex, constantly. At Idaho, the home of the 'Vandals', there were handsome barbarians for the plucking, and others who conquered with long cocks and perfect bodies. In the home of straight cowboys and the ultimate whitebread Christian values, cocks were none the less spitting cum and All-American boys were letting other boys play with their studly, jock forms.

Johnny soon learned from the big boy's 'anonymous' chat room traffic that Wes had located which restrooms on campus had glory-holes where he could get a hot wet mouth to suck and lick his ever hard prick. That led him to provide an anonymous tip to another guy who frequented the internet sites used by boys on the campus trolling for subs and victims. So Johnny found a way to get Wes caught by a thirty year old campus security guard who loved capturing college punk boys, and blackmailing them into satisfying his own fantasies. The guard, using the same tactics that Johnny had used to gain control of Wes, caught the hunky boy on an unauthorized security tape as he was having his fat cock suckled by another kid in the school library basement. Wes was in shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops. His long, thick prong was jutting through his fly, sticking through the hole in the partition. Wes' hands braced against the metal divider to allow his body to lean into the hot sucking mouth that was servicing him. The guard liked the way Wes' hips swung back and forth as he walked down the basement hallway toward the obscure restroom, his muscled feet were pigeon-toed like most jocks, his taut ass cheeks framed perfectly in the shorts, the material clinging deep in his crack. Wes' t-shirt hung straight down on his moulded pecs, his diamond chip nipples thrusting out the soft cotton. The guard was persuaded… this big dicked jock-boy who ground his hips into the passionate blow job he was receiving and captured on tape, was going to be his toy. Both boys were busted. The short brunet who had been on his knees, vacuuming Wes fat cock knob, was also transformed into a cock slut for others he knew. But the guard, who saw the bigger boy uncontrollably growling with lust and satisfaction as he mashed his hips into the partition and thrust his rigid boner into the brunet's voracious mouth, kept Wes for himself.

From then on Wes became a bitch for the hunky security guard who summoned the big boy jock to his office, gave him copies of the tape, and explained it to him in direct terms. From that day on, Wes's big penis was cock-caged, and he had to spend hours learning to suck the guard's long thick toes and licking his furry asshole, before he was allowed to even touch the hunky rent-a-cop's short, thick up-curved prick. Wes was given regular physical inspections in back rooms of the basements of buildings on the campus. The guard would sit in a chair while Wes slowly stripped. Then the guard would unlock his mesh cock cage, and then perform an inspection that would make the boy's cock go rock hard and dripping wet. A thick, blunt finger would gently wriggle up Wes' sensitive rectum making his stand on his toes, and his stiff, rubbery teats would be pinched and scratched until Wes almost ejaculated just from the sweet sensation. Then there was that oversized, wide flanged, prick tip. The things the guard was able to do to Wes' pride and joy, turning him into a squealing, begging little boy, still insatiably horny and ready to spit spooge. There were nights when Wes was trussed with his arms crossed behind his back, ankles shackled to a spreader bar, and a ball-gag in his mouth while the malevolent light-skinned black guard pinched and plied his whorish tits, stroked his desperate prick to the edge of ejaculation, finger-fucked the athletic white captive, and turned him over his knees for a good spanking that made Wes's dick rain pre-fuck. He also learned to perform for the guard's buddies, a white dude and a mean Asian punk whose cock had a wicked down-curve as well as a thick knob. After having to jerk-off for their amusement-usually twice and once with by running a vibrator up into his own ass, he was forced to take a rubber filled with his own sperm, and empty it on his tongue to savor and swallow. Wes's nipples became legend, demonstrating over and over to anyone who touched them how much of a punk slut the handsome boy was, and how fast his cock became a hard clit the moment his nips even felt a hot breath, much less a scratch or a pinch. Many a night, strapped down on the bed of his security guard master, his nipples were suckled till he went to sleep, his penis throbbing and bobbing, sticky with pre-fuck, and often unrelieved. Like Brent, Wes lost complete control of his cock, and only achieved release when he was given permission. Until he was in his early thirties, Wes' ejaculations were on a schedule… managed by others.

Trevor Stockton was allowed to escape from his penance after high school. Johnny was intrigued by the big, languid redhead with the long legs and easy gait who grew to be 6' 7" [2 m]. But he also enjoyed the kid's wry sense of humor, and willingness to try anything. Johnny sensed that Trevor knew how to enjoy sex, and that he would make the most of his opportunities in life. No need to put this big jock under restraint… he would be getting more than his share of interesting and fulfilling sex. As for Trevor, once he had been put through his paces in junior high and high school by Johnny, it was hard not to return to the sensations that had been his most fulfilling sexual experience for most of his teenage years. There was something special about having Brent McDermott, the jock king of the community licking out Trev's hairy asspucker, or suckling his long, thick toes. And it was cool to have a Priest and a cop lick his body from head to toe, even if he was tied down when they did it. Trevor couldn't get enough of hunky punks servicing his big body. After all, his cock shot wads of gism no matter the source of his stimulation. As long as he was not in pain, why not get his rocks off at the expense of others.

His pale skin, freckles, and red hair made him exotic. Neither girls nor boys could resist his size fourteen [eur 46½] feet with their tufts of red fur on the top of the big and index toes. And it felt so good when he wiggled his long, thick toes in their mouths, as tongues slid over and around his pigs, sucking them like midget cocks. Trevor absolutely loved the way folks studied his toes when he was barefoot, or in flip-flops, almost like an act of worship. His high arches, slender heel, thick ankles and vein covered musculature made his feet look powerful, and yet they were so tender, pale and exposed. And when girls drew their long fingernails down his soft instep and strong heels, his cock would leak copiously. Yeah, life was good, and "suck my fucking toes" was an electric charge to Trevor's unruly boner… making its long pale shaft turn into a rocket ready to fire its jets.

On the basketball team in college, he found that one of the team managers was always looking at him, drinking in his handsome body and his thick cock when he walked to the showers after practice. But most of all, when he walked with that languid gait, bouncing on his big feet, his wide glutes big, pale and dimpled swinging back and forth, the kid was mesmerized. Trev would make sure he had the kid help him with his gear, and would slowly dry his toes, flexing them, often near the kids face as he picked up Trev's wet practice uniform from the floor of the lockerroom. He could see the kid's cock get hard in his sweats, and slowly, Trev got the kid to talk about sex, about being horny like Trev was, and how badly he needed his cock sucked. One night, after a Friday practice, Trev got the manager drunk, took him back to his apartment, and had the horny kid naked in no time and soon starting on Trev's wiggling toes. The manager became his personal college cocksucker, trained to lick Trev from head to toe when he wanted it. When Trevor was not getting laid by the numerous college girls who longed to be screwed by the team's star player, the hunky team manger would be under Trevor's sheets, sucking on the fat knob of redhead's insatiable boner, and grinding his own thick, stubby penis into the sheets for relief as he did so. Trevor would never allow the kid to masturbate when he was servicing him, enjoying the boy's helpless thrusting of his penis into the sheets in an effort to bring himself off, but knowing that an untimely cum would result in him being turned over Trev's lap for a bone-inducing spanking. Then there were times Trev made the boy perform a rut till he ejaculated, grinding himself on the bedding to a spurting cum before he was allowed to touch Trev's furry, muscled body – hell the kid was a cum factory anyway, he loved it. After college, Trev finished with basketball except in local leagues, and went to business school back East. He found everywhere he went, there were boys and girls ready to service his huge frame, long pecker, and powerful feet. Today he has a family, a good job, and discreet relationships with those who are drawn to "Big Red" and his easy-going, charming, handsome presence – and those toes.

Officer Connor Anderson resigned from the police force after two years, and he and his family moved to another town. Connor was torn up inside from having to submit to a teenage punk that he would bust if only the circumstances had been different. Plus, he had to endure the humiliation of being sexually submissive, of watching a Priest masturbate him in front of other men, and doing things that wounded his self-esteem. He hoped that his sudden change of venue, and the quiet relocation of his family without notice, would allow him to escape Johnny's stranglehold. But he was wrong. Johnny's mastery of the internet soon allowed him to track Officer Anderson through credit card numbers and the Social Security number he had obtained while the Andersons were still in town. In order to protect himself from future allegations or exposure, Johnny then searched the underground life of the town where the Andersons had relocated and found an alpha male in their police department who liked to make men and women submit.

When that Captain was sent a video and picture files of Officer Anderson from Johnny's stash, ones that could not be traced but were authentic, it was a matter of time before Connor was confronted by his fellow officer. Within days of that encounter, Connor was standing in a dirty rest stop john, his uniform pants and his briefs at his knees, his shirt open exposing his muscular chest, one hand locked behind his head and the other holding his prick while pissing for the Captain's amusement. He had to bend over, and finger his own ass, sliding his own thick index finger deep within his rectum and rubbing his fuck nut until he almost fainted from the sensation-grunting and moaning from the intense feeling, squeezing his ass muscles around his own invading digit. Then the Captain made Anderson slowly masturbate his thick prick into a cup while the Captain smiled and watched, sitting on a bench, the doors locked so he could humiliate the young cop.

Unfortunately for Connor, that was not the end of it. Soon, he was on his back on the bench where the Captain had been sitting, legs up to his chest, cinched under his knees and around his torso, and spread and tethered to a bar. Connor had a ball-gag in his mouth, two electric clips on his jutting nipples, and his Captain smiling as a slender anal prod covered with soft plastic spikes was slowly and gently inserted and twisted deep up and into his clenching rectum. Instinctively Anderson's rectum gripped the wriggling, buzzing device as it had earlier his index finger, and as it did anything that slid up his sensitive cop whore fuck-hole. As the Captain held Connor's huge fuck stick, gently thumbing the huge sticky knob, Connor rolled his eyes, and the big piss lips opened to eject bolts of thick man juice over his chest and up to his face. His size twelve [eur 44] feet were tightly curled as the aching sensation of his anal masturbation at the hands of this new tormentor drove him over the edge as it always did. There would be no more running. Connor was a broken man. He accepted his cock cage, and the schedule that he was forced to follow for screwing his wife to keep things appearing normal. But his bowling nights, card nights and softball games, often ended up with other men's pricks breaching his tight anus, and reaming his sensitive, itchy rectum. There were long periods when his cock was off-limits, and he grew to appreciate the rough fist of his Captain, if only to bring him tantalizingly close to the edge of release, and to torment his over-sized and needy glans.

The Captain had a special treatment for Connor that even Johnny had not devised in this most fiendish form. He was responsible for a canine unit, and the big, aggressive German Shepard had a well developed and carefully trained fetish for male cock. Sometimes to amuse his other cop buddies who helped him humiliate Officer Anderson, the Captain would have the hunky young cop tied face down to a special table, with his erect cock and balls thrust through an opening in the middle. With carefully wired electrodes stimulating every other part of his body from ears, nose, and nipples to his toes and anus, the Shepard named Stud would watch as Connor's oversized glans was basted by brush with honey, tickling the straight cop's sensitive cock knob causing it to leak pre-spunk. Then the salivating dog was released with the smell and sight of the tasty treat just beyond his chained reach. Once freed, he bounded to his victim, his long, dexterous tongue would go into over-drive, licking and slurping over the helplessly exposed cock head, forced down and erect like an oversized cow's udder. Man's best friend was prepared to suckle in Pavlovian style, endlessly and automatically. Better yet, when a squealing, yelling Officer Anderson ejaculated, the dog would intensify his licking in order to capture every starchy morsel and to stimulate the pleading officer's obscenely bloated glans and corona till he basically fainted from the sensation. That and prolonged bouts of tickling his big feet at the same time he was attached to a milker over his prick, could make Connor Anderson the most accommodating and compliant member of law enforcement in the County. To hear him squeal and beg was a treat that made even veteran masters leak copiously. Well after his children had grown and gone away to college to start their own lives, unbeknownst to them the handsome and athletic Anderson in his mid-forties was still spitting cum at the behest of his commanding officer, paying the piper for keeping his secret.

Father Richardson was a special case. Johnny did not mind managing the Father while he was in town, and in fact they had a friendly relationship. Father Richardson was a nice person, but he was unable to control the impulses that caused him to initiate sexual relationships with teenagers. Johnny understood when kids fooled around with each other, but he could not accept the Father seducing younger boys under the cover of his authority and the church. He had no intention of leaving the divine there to use his sacred office to entrap more boys. He had told Richardson this, and urged him on many occasions to stop using the confessional to meet his needs. But in spite of the Priest's cock restraint, time after time, Johnny would come home to tapes of the Father 'ministering' to some boy's healthy boner, draining the juices from him as he panted and sweated to keep quiet as the young Father's hands or lips were milking him.

The straw that broke the camel's back involved a boy directed to the Parish from Juvenile Hall. Juwan McKenzie was eleven and a half, but a well built, and physically mature black pre-teen. His mother worked two jobs to try to keep Juwan in the local Catholic school, so she could not monitor his behavior, especially after school. Juwan had befriended a thirteen year old boy named Devonne Johnson who lived in the same apartment building. For almost a year, Juwan had been grinding his already healthy five inch [12½ cm] boner into the sheets of his bed at night, delighting in the excruciating sensations fucking his bed created for him. He could enjoy up to four dry cums consecutively, but after that his prick would be sore, and he had to stop the delicious friction on his fat, bloated prick tip. But Devonne had showed Juwan that there were ways to achieve his orgasms that did not require him to bruise his exquisite curved shaft and fat prick knob. Within weeks of meeting each other in the Catholic Middle School, Devonne was using liquid soap to milk Juwan to repeated dry ejaculations, making the younger boy his sex toy. It was only the unexpected arrival of Devonne's mother home early from work one day, that ended the after-school games. She complained that Juwan had been the instigating to juvenile officials, and both boys were separated and remanded to counseling. For Juwan, that counseling came from the local church at his mother's request, and the good Father Richardson was assigned his case.

Father Richardson could not believe his luck. He found a room in the church where Johnny could not trace his actions with the ubiquitous cameras and recording devices. There he soon had Juwan firm milk chocolate body naked and surrendering to his expert fingers. Juwan had firm diamond chip nipples that when scratched, made his pre-teen boner leak clear fluid copiously. He would rest his head back on the shoulder of the good devine, while sitting on the Priest's lap, and soon his nipples were plucked to stiff little cones and his fat prick knob was roiled in the Father's fist until the boy gasped and groaned his way to two and three orgasms each visit. He loved the sensations, and with his relationship with Devonne now ended, Father Richardson had become his source of surrender. As for the Father, he loved the way the slender, curved shaft was narrow at the base, widening to the flared knob with its wide corona and glass smooth glans that fairly fucked anything that grazed it. Juwan was insatiable, and the Priest unable to resist his charms. Accidently, Johnny learned of the relationship when Juwan came to confession one day, pleading with Father Richardson to increase the time they spent together. The Father was only able to meet with Juwan maybe twice a week under Johnny's strick regimen. The boy wanted to have his cock worked more regularly, and the confession confrontation and pleading were carefully recorded despite Richardson's efforts to stop the conversation once he realized what Juwan wanted. Johnny forced Father Richardson to stop seeing the boy, and to have another Priest take over his counseling. But the incident convinced Johnny that he had to do something with the Father before he left the area for college.

Before Johnny left for college, he made sure the good father applied for and was transferred to a remote Mexican village in the southern part of Mexico. Actually, Richardson never knew that he had applied for the new position. He thought that the Church had decided to send him to a new post where his talents were needed. But in fact it was Johnny using the magic of the internet and with the ability to hack the Church computer that set Father Richardson up for his new assignment. Little did the Father know that he had been secretly sold over the internet to an urban gang of drug dealers whose prison experience and life in the city made them desirous of a white male slave. They had enjoyed a couple of American prisoners, college boys who had been foolish enough to get caught in Mexico buying or dealing drugs, and then put in the jails where the gang had been incarcerated. There was nothing like a handsome American college boy, with his legs up over his head, his long athletic toes curling from the sensation as a thick Mexican cock slid up and down his hot, moist rectum. The thought of having one of these squealing boy-men for their use and pleasure while living far from regular police authority, seemed like a good arrangement. Once purchased (re-assigned), Father Richardson would be the local parish Priest, but his ministry would change dramatically once he arrived and settled. He would also spend time servicing the young, virile and inventive young men who had purchased him when he was not meeting the needs of the villagers as their devoted priest. His cock cage was wired to a small anal prod that remained inserted up his ass most days and nights. The head of the gang possessed the remote control that would send at his discretion a steady vibration humming up the Father's rectum at a moment's notice, forcing him to drool copious amounts of pre-cum from a constantly stiff boner, but never allowing him to ejaculate. This was how the Father gave confessions now, unable to play with his prick or control the sensations coursing up his rectum and buzzing his fuck nut as he tried to focus on the words being spoken through his cubicle screen; squirming on his bench like a man with a hemorrhoid itch.

Father Richardson's ejaculations were actually profitable for the gang. They were saved for a special apparatus that looked much like an automatic milker for cows. On special nights Father Richardson was placed on his knees, his wrists bound to his ankles forcing his chest and mid-section out. Braced with a special bolster, electric clips were attached to his nipples, on his balls, his ears, and at the opening of his nostrils and occasionally on his big toes. Then when the vibrator up his rectum was activated, the milker was placed over his cock head and secured. Finally, the electric current was switched on activating the buzzing clips. On those nights, the good father often was drained three to five times for the amusement of the gang or its visitors, and his sperm sold to sperm banks around the world on the internet.

As he approached forty, he became adept at knowing every cock, every asshole, and every set of toes in the group of men who owned him. They were handsome and virile, and they made him worship their bodies, sucking their thick, ever hard uncut cocks, and licking their sensitive, hairy ass holes. Each year, new young men were brought into the gang, and the good father could satisfy his lusts, even if he could not gain release to play with his own throbbing member.

Darren, Johnny's boyhood friend and confident, grew to be a strapping and naturally athletic young man. Darren never became the brightest bulb, but he was loyal and could not resist the many inventive ways Johnny had of milking sperm from his ever hard boner. His huge cock and over-sized balls produced endless amounts of sperm which Johnny carefully managed… and extracted. That's just the way Johnny liked it. He adored trying his newest ideas and inventions out on Darren, and his friend who liked nothing more than to shoot his sperm, rarely complained. After all, it was in the service of his friends plans, and since they were a team someone had to be the guinea pig. Never very smart, Darren continued to follow Johnny's direction. After high school, they even went to the same small college that Johnny had picked out where he knew Darren could gain admission, and far enough away from the beaten path that he could gain a foothold with his technological skills that would reduce enough handsome boys and men to provide him with a constant source of pleasure. To this day, Darren and Johnny remain together, Darren subservient to Johnny's needs and his plans, his cock securely under Johnny's management and supervision.

As for Johnny, he perfected the business of getting athletes, police officers, security guards, business jocks, and Army and Marine boys to surrender to his carefully executed traps. For three years after he graduated from college, he continued to work moving from one small town to another in the great rural and dimly educated stretches of Middle America. He made a specialty of Mormon boys. Then he left the United States to take his business activities to Eastern Europe where an endless supply of strapping young men with few resources and options make his selection opportunities even greater than in the United States. He markets and sells his DVDs of Americans he taped and recorded to an enthusiastic audience abroad. But he is also proving adept at getting poor and uneducated young hunks from Eastern European countries, from the recently freed towns and cities of the former Iron Curtain, where horny boys and American money are a perfect combination. Their lack of control and their big dicks eventually find many of them performing for Johnny in ways that will only sharpen his trade. All this started with a thirteen year old boy's sexual infatuation with the hunk next door, and how he managed to get the delicious Brent McDermott to surrender his big boy boner. Today, Johnny is a boner master, and boys and men from countries far and wide who love to cum are often squirting for him on a regular basis.

So ends the story of punk kids, high on sex, and the mastery and control of Brent's big boner.

The End