Jason Masters

The Day I Was Abducted and Raped

It happened on a warm summer afternoon, many years ago.

I'd turned seven not long before that day but I often walked around my neighbourhood alone. Those were less paranoid times, when adults were smart enough to know that the chance of something 'happening to' their precious child was not significantly influenced by whether or not the child wandered freely. Nobody in the neighbourhood would think it unusual or even glance once at a child wandering the streets during daylight hours.

But on that particular day, something happened to me.

I was a few blocks from home, just wandering and exploring when two boys wearing backpacks and riding bicycles stopped near me and greeted me. They were young teenagers, but to me at only age seven, they seemed almost like adults.

After some standard greetings and enquiries from them about where I lived, one of them, who said his name was Mike, offered to take me for a ride on his bike with them to a 'secret hideout' not far outside town. I was intrigued and immediately agreed, so he seated me on an old towel tied in front of him around the bar of the bike and they set off with me hanging on to the middle of the handle bars.

I was enjoying the ride because the roads were good, but then after we'd left the town some distance behind, the boys turned off the road into what is known as 'The Bush' which is mostly trees with ferns and bushes growing between them. The ground there was very bumpy and the bouncing around, even on that towel, began to hurt me between my legs.

After only a minute, once we could no longer see the road, they stopped and Mike asked if the bumping was hurting me. When I said it was, he said they could stop that, if I was willing to wear a special harness, then the other boy, who had told me his name was Tim, opened his backpack and took out some leather straps which were joined together in a complicated way.

I figured that it would be better than bumping around on that bar and I really wanted to see their secret hideout, so I agreed to wear the harness. Mike said it would hold me more safely if it was directly against my skin so he took my tee-shirt off and put it in Tim's backpack for later, then he began to fasten the harness on me while Tim took some more straps out of the backpack and began to put them around his chest.

The harness had straps going over my shoulders and around my upper and lower chest and waist and there were two straps on either side which Mike pushed down the waistband of my shorts and even under my underpants so the straps came out the leg holes of my shorts. Each of those straps had leather cuffs (although I just thought of them as more straps, at the time) attached to the ends, which Mike fastened around my thighs right up high inside the legs of my shorts.

When Mike tightened the straps around my chest, it was a little more difficult to breathe but Mike said they had to be tight so I would be held securely so I let him do them up as tight as he wanted them.

There were many buckles attached to the harness, and a set of leather cuffs on either side where the strap went around my waist. Mike began to fasten my wrists into those cuffs, telling me that it was so bumpy that they didn't want my hands waving around and maybe throwing the bike off balance and causing a fall. I didn't know anything about how to ride a bike, then, so I just let him fasten my wrists securely into the cuffs.

While my wrists were being secured, Tim began fastening another set of leather cuffs around my arms just above the elbows, then he pulled my elbows close together and fastened the cuffs to each other. He said that would help keep me still so I'd be safe.

Once I'd been secured in the harness and they were happy with how tight the straps were, Mike lifted me up and held me against Tim while Tim fastened the harness he was wearing to mine. When Mike let go of me, I dangled from Tim's harness, completely secure. Then they both got on their bikes again and set off once more, heading further and further into The Bush.

It felt funny, being strapped to Tim's body and unable to move my arms, but it was better than bumping around on that bar, even with the towel padding it. The ground we were travelling over was very bumpy.

We must have ended up many miles (or kilometres, if you prefer) from any house and a few miles from the nearest road before the boys finally stopped by a large tree. I guessed that this was their 'secret hideout' but it didn't look all that special to me. I could see that the ground had been cleared of ferns and bushes all around the tree, but there was no building nor even a hut like I'd been imagining.

There was another problem. I'd started to realise just how helpless I was, especially with that harness on me. I could barely move my arms at all and I was starting to be a bit scared although I wasn't sure what there was to be scared of.

After we stopped and the big boys got off their bikes, Mike told me that any little boy who visited the hideout had to first go through some tests to make sure he was tough enough to play with the big boys.

Mike then pulled a wide leather strap with a hole in it out of his backpack and said that I didn't need to worry because they'd make sure I passed the tests and in fact, I didn't need to even talk at all, then he held the strap in front of my face with the hole in the strap right in front of my mouth and told me to open wide. I didn't know what else I could do, so I did as he said.

A second later, Mike had pushed the strap up against my wide open mouth and began buckling it behind my head. I tried to close my mouth and discovered that there was a ridge around the hole in the strap and it projected into my mouth between my teeth and stopped me from closing my mouth. It felt soft, like leather, but it also felt like there was something hard underneath like metal, so there was now no way for me to close my mouth. I started to try to protest but the boys ignored the noises I made.

Now I was frightened and I began to kick and struggle in the harness. I was kicking Tim's thighs but Mike immediately grabbed my legs and pulled my shoes and socks off before putting them in Tim's backpack with my tee-shirt. My bare feet probably didn't hurt Tim at all.

I started to cry, but Mike just reached out and pulled my shorts off! As Mike reached for my underpants, I managed to catch just the tips of the fingers of my cuffed hands in the waistband of my underpants to try to stop him from taking them off me too, but I couldn't get a good grip with only my fingers and Mike easily pulled my underpants off me as well. Now I was crying with shame because I'd been stripped completely naked, which I'd learned to believe was very rude.

I could only hang there in the harness, crying and trying my hardest to get my hands free so I could cover my little penis while Mike pulled a couple of spiral spikes out of his backpack and began to screw them into the ground some distance apart, right underneath a low branch of the tree.

Ignoring all of my crying and struggles, Mike next got a leather collar and more cuffs from his backpack and fastened the collar around my neck and the cuffs around my ankles.

After putting the collar and cuffs on me, Mike helped Tim to unfasten the straps holding my harness to the one Tim was wearing. When those straps were undone, I was placed on the ground between the spikes and Tim held me still while Mike stretched my legs out wide to each of the spikes and secured my ankle cuffs to the spikes using short chains. I was now trapped, unable to even run away.

The boys continued to ignore my crying and my attempts to verbalise my protests through my forced-open mouth while Mike threw a chain over the tree branch and then Tim used a padlock to secure the ends to the collar I was wearing. Once this was done, both boys stood back and just looked at me for a few minutes, smiling at me in a way I didn't like.

As soon as I was no longer being held by either of the boys, I attempted to crouch down in order to hide my exposed penis, but I'd barely begun to crouch before the chain over the tree branch jerked tight on my collar. Only one or two more attempts were required before I learned that I couldn't crouch down very far unless the chain was released.

I cried even harder as I realised that I was now naked with my legs spread wide and I couldn't even fold myself up to cover my penis. I had to stay standing almost upright, naked in front of these cruel boys with no way of covering anything. It felt horrible to be so helpless and exposed, so it was probably a good thing that I didn't know that much worse was to follow.

After staring at me for some minutes, the boys got some more straps out of one of the backpacks. Tim had two long, plain leather straps while Mike was holding a pair of shorter straps with metal-lined holes along both edges, like the sprocket holes in old movie film. At one end of each of the short straps, the straps went through large, round metal devices which had buckles on the opposite side to the place where the straps entered. I had no idea what the round metal devices were.

Mike went behind me and I could feel him attaching the devices to my harness just underneath the shoulder straps while Tim crouched in front of me and began attaching the plain leather straps to the waist belt of my harness in front. When they were both done with that part, Tim pushed the straps between my legs and Mike took them and began fastening them somewhere behind me.

Then the really bad part started.

One strap went on each side of my penis and as Mike began to pull the straps tight, Tim reached out and, still ignoring my protests, put the straps right over my little testicles with one strap going over each testicle. As Mike pulled the straps tighter and tighter, they began to compress my balls against my body. I started to howl loudly, then, because the pain it caused was really bad and quickly became a lot worse as Mike continued to pull on the straps.

By the time the straps were tight, I'd begun to push my tummy forward and arch my back, since I'd discovered that would ease the painful pressure of the straps on my compressed balls. But then Mike did something behind my back and there were two separate 'click' noises and suddenly the straps pulled tight against my balls again.

I howled even more from the pain and began to arch my back even more in order to try to relieve the pressure and the pain. As I gradually arched my back further and further, I barely noticed the quiet clicking noises from behind me every time I moved.

The boys were talking to each other and teasing me, saying what a rude little boy I was to be thrusting my sexy little bottom out on display like that, but it didn't matter to me as much as the pain. I was desperate to relieve the pain in my balls and although arching my back didn't help as much as I thought it should, it did help a little and so I kept on doing it until my back was in as much of an arch as I could manage.

I stood still, my eyes closed tight trying to shut out the sight of the grinning boys, my bare bottom thrust out just as far as it would go, crying from the pain of my compressed balls, and from the shame also.

Now that the boys had called my attention to it, I felt very ashamed of myself for putting my bare bottom so prominently on display, but the pain in my balls was far too bad to ignore. I was even trying to arch my back further to relieve the pain more, but I'd reached my physical limits and couldn't move any further.

Suddenly I noticed a flash of light through my closed eyelids, followed by a short whirring noise. I opened my eyes to see Tim holding an instant-print camera (digital cameras didn't exist back then). Tim moved a little around me and took another picture of me, ignoring my howls of shame. This was the worst yet! I could hardly believe that my humiliation was being captured on film for all time.

Tim took five pictures of me at that time. One from the front, one at an angle of about forty-five degrees to my front, one directly from the side, one at an angle toward my rear and the last directly from behind. All I could do was cry and howl. I couldn't move even slightly to prevent him from capturing my shameful exposure on film.

After each picture had developed itself, Tim held each one up in front of me so I could see what I looked like. He held each picture close to my face and deliberately waited until I'd had a good look at it before going on to the next one. I thought the worst of them was the one taken from the side, where you could easily see how far I'd thrust my bottom out, but I was wrong. The worst one of all was the last, taken from directly behind me.

You could clearly see my bottom and the straps between my legs had pulled my bottom cheeks apart so that my little anus was clearly visible. Tim had used the flash on every shot, so there were no shadows to hide anything. When I saw that, my shame momentarily overcame my pain and I tried to straighten up again, to stop from putting on such a rude display.

It was then that I discovered that it was impossible for me to straighten up again without crushing my testicles. Something was keeping the straps tight and immobile, holding me in that horribly rude bottom-thrust-out position.

With hindsight, it's not difficult to figure out that the metal devices were spring-loaded ratchets and that, as I crouched down, the springs not only took up all the slack I was creating but then the ratchets would not let it out again later.

All I knew at the time was that I was trapped in that horribly rude pose and my compressed balls were giving me the worst agony I could imagine.

Tim asked Mike something about them being ready and Mike replied that there was one more thing. Then he pulled some more straps out of his backpack and he and Tim began to attach them to buckles on the strap around my head which was holding my mouth open. These straps combined into a very effective head harness which fastened to the mouth strap and there were still more straps hanging down from the mouth strap.

The boys fastened the hanging straps to my harness and tightened them before standing back and looking at me for a minute. I stared at them, not quite realising, yet, exactly what they'd done.

Then Mike said he'd go first and Tim agreed and said he'd wank me while Mike did 'it'. I'd barely heard the word 'wank' before and had little idea what it meant except that it probably had something to do with sex and was therefore too rude for words, and I had absolutely no idea what Mike was going to do to me.

Tim sat cross-legged close beside me and put one hand around me until he could brush his fingers against my anus while with the other he took hold of my little penis and began to stroke the skin up and down along the length of my tiny shaft. I tried to pull away from him, but could barely move. Tim had complete access to and control of my body and there was nothing I could do about it.

If only my balls hadn't been hurting so badly, I probably would have enjoyed what Tim was doing to me. Even so, it still felt kind of good and Tim soon announced that I was 'getting hard'. Mike then unzipped his pants and felt around inside.

I was shocked when Mike pulled his penis out of his pants. It was really quite small but to my young eyes, it looked huge. It was also standing up stiffly.

I had no idea what Mike's intentions were until he actually did it. He moved forwards and thrust his erect penis through the hole in the front of the strap over my mouth, pushing his penis well inside my mouth.

Naturally, I tried to pull back or turn my head to escape this disgusting action, but it was then that I discovered exactly why that head harness had been put on me and then fastened to the chest harness.

I couldn't turn, raise or lower my head. The straps were so tightly fastened to my harness that, along with the gag holding my mouth open, they kept my head completely immobile so that Mike could violate my mouth without me being able to resist.

Mike put one hand behind my head and with that simple action, he was now in complete control. He began to thrust his penis in and out of my mouth, while I instinctively tried to push his penis out with my tongue, not realising that this action was exactly what Mike wanted or that, by doing so, I was sexually stimulating him.

Tim kept up his assault of my anus and penis while Mike continued to face-rape me until he eventually climaxed, squirting several small spurts of liquid into my mouth.

In my innocence, I thought Mike must be peeing in my mouth and so I was in severe emotional distress when I realised that I couldn't spit out the liquid and was forced to swallow all of it, although I was relieved that it didn't taste as bad as I'd imagined piss would taste.

As Mike put his penis back into his pants, he told Tim it was his turn. They switched positions and Mike took over frictioning my penis and anus while Tim did exactly as Mike had done, with the same liquid results which I once again was forced to swallow.

I figured that this was the worst thing that could possibly be done to me, but I was wrong.

I was in so much distress that I almost missed seeing when Tim took something out of one of the backpacks. The thing looked like a polished shaft of wood with a blunt, rounded end and a disc of rubber screwed to the other end.

Naturally I had no idea what was going to happen as Tim got a large tube which looked like a big toothpaste tube out of the same backpack and stepped behind me.

A few seconds later, I could feel something cold and wet being rubbed around and on my anus, then there was a few seconds pause. I still couldn't move my head so I couldn't look to see what was going on.

Then Tim pushed the wooden shaft slowly all the way inside my rectum.

The pain was incredible. For a minute, it was even worse than my compressed balls and I started screaming as loud as I could. Tim took no notice and pushed the shaft all the way inside me, then I felt him move the straps between my legs so that they partly covered the rubber disc before he moved to stand in front of me again.

Both boys just stood there for a few minutes, watching me and listening to me screaming in pain. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so cruel! I couldn't understand how they could be so indifferent to my suffering.

After a few minutes, I realised that the pain wasn't so bad as it had been and my screaming became less frequent although I was still crying hard.

Once I stopped screaming, Mike and Tim put their backpacks back on, mounted their bikes and rode away, waving to me and calling out the cliché joke of 'don't go away.'

They simply rode away and left me, tied up, naked, butt-plugged, alone and totally helpless in what amounted to the middle of nowhere, where nobody was likely to ever find me.

At my best guess, I must have stood there like that for around half an hour before I finally heard the bikes as both boys returned. I was so relieved that I hadn't been left to die after all, that I could nearly forget that they were the ones who had done this to me in the first place.

What followed was almost a repeat of what had happened just before the boys had left last time, with a couple of variations.

The wooden shaft in my rectum had ceased to hurt me, but it was removed and Tim then took an even thicker one out of his backpack and, using more of what I now know was lubricant, forced it inside me. It hurt a lot but not as much as the first shaft had, which surprised me.

The thicker shaft was also ridged along the whole length and Tim began to thrust it in and out of my bottom and to rub my penis again while Mike once again put his stiff penis in my mouth, raping me orally again. Again, once Mike was finished and I'd had to swallow his emission, they switched positions so that Tim could take his turn with me.

This time, something strange happened. While Tim was raping my mouth, the ridged shaft being thrust in and out of my anus began to actually feel good. Mingled with the rubbing of my penis and the constant pain from my balls, this gave me feelings which I found confusing.

After they'd both finished using my mouth, a third polished wooden shaft, even thicker than the second one, was forced inside me before once again both of the boys rode away and left me, alone and helpless. I was confused about why this third shaft, despite being at least three times the thickness of the first one, still didn't hurt nearly as badly as the first had.

This time, I guess it must have been an hour or longer before the boys returned.

Before they returned though, three things had happened.

Firstly, the joints of my backbone had loosened enough for me to arch my back a bit further, pushing my bottom out even further.

Second, doing this allowed me to discover that the ratchets had reached the limit of their travel, so arching my back further finally loosened the straps very slightly and provided me with a little relief from the crushing pressure on my balls. It wasn't much, but at that point I was grateful for even the slightest relief from my agony.

I still don't know if my ability to reduce my pain was planned by my torturers or accidental, but considering their lack of empathy to that point, I strongly suspect it was an accident.

Thirdly, I was beginning to 'zone out' and was concentrating on the 'now' instead of thinking about the future. Almost my entire concentration was on merely trying to relieve the pressure on my balls and on my pain in general, moment to moment.

By the time the boys returned, although the pain in my balls had now been slightly reduced, I was in severe pain in other places in my body from being forced to stay in that horribly awkward pose for such a long time, so I was relieved when I heard them say something about having to let me go soon, but I was scared when they talked about wanting to 'do me up the arse' first.

Not that I had any say in the matter, of course.

First, they took another set of five photos of me, exactly as they had before.

Next, they once again forced me to give them oral sex. But this time, they made me learn how to use my tongue to give them the most possible pleasure. I hated doing it, but I was desperate to be released from my painful and humiliating posture so I tried to cooperate completely. Again I had to swallow the results each time.

Those cameras only took ten pictures per film packet but they photographed me again, this time while I was performing oral sex on each boy. They must have had extra packets of film with them, although I can't imagine how they could afford it since those film packs were expensive.

Then they came to what was supposed to be the 'final act'. The wooden shaft was withdrawn from my rectum, and Mike knelt on a towel spread behind me and teased me by saying how kind I was to stick my bottom out for him and how inviting it was. I'd never heard of anal sex so I had no idea what he was going to do until the head of his (fortunately lubricated) penis pressed its way inside me.

I guess the wooden shafts which I'd had pushed inside me must have stretched me fairly well since there was no injury to my anus or rectum, but Mike's penis still hurt me. I instinctively tried to straighten up, only to encounter renewed pain from my balls when I tried to do so, which forced me to push my bottom backwards again.

Mike again teased me by thanking me for pushing my arse onto his cock so sexily. I felt horribly degraded, knowing that I was cooperating with this terribly rude thing he was doing to me, even though I didn't have a choice about it or even know exactly what he was doing to me.

Because he'd just had a blow job from me, Mike lasted quite some time before I recognised from the noises he was making that he was doing in my bottom exactly what he'd done previously in my mouth. Tim took a few more pictures while I was being raped anally. I felt nothing in particular – none of that 'warm wetness' that you read about in porn stories – when Mike climaxed inside me, but I knew that he must have squirted the same stuff inside my bottom as he had in my mouth.

Tim then took his turn and he didn't hurt as much, possibly because Mike had already stretched my anus. Again, the act was photographed a few times from different angles before Tim also climaxed inside me and again, I can't say I felt anything special when he did it.

I suppose someone reading this will be curious to know that I gained no sexual pleasure at all from my anal rape. I suppose that neither boy even bothered to try, even if their dicks were large enough to make proper contact with my prostate.

When they were both done raping me, each boy wiped his dick with a damp washcloth they'd brought in a plastic bag, then they looked at the pictures for a few minutes, indifferent to my weeping and almost constant moans of pain which was all the sound I could make through my dry mouth at that point.

Finally, after more than two hours of constant agony, the boys undid the straps between my legs.

The relief I felt was indescribable, but it was followed by frightened despair as I realised that I couldn't straighten up. I'd been in that pose for so long that my muscles had almost seized up. Fortunately, Tim took the time to massage my back which helped me to finally regain control so I could stand upright again at last.

Then the 'encore' began. Tim said that I'd been such a good little boy that I deserved a reward. He immediately lowered his head and took my little dick into his mouth, then started sucking and licking it.

I quickly found out exactly why those two boys had enjoyed putting their dicks in my mouth. Tim had pulled back what was left of my foreskin from my circumcised penis and was rapidly rubbing his tongue against the glans while masturbating me with one hand. It felt fantastic.

I was scared by the strength of the feelings I was getting from Tim's blow job on me, but I wasn't in control. Tim ignored all the protesting noises I could make through my still forced-open mouth and continued to work on me until I had the most fantastic feeling I've ever had in my life: My very first orgasm.

There was no emission of course since I was several years away from being able to produce cum, but it was the loveliest feeling I've ever felt in my life.

Tim kept working on my stiff penis and I was soon struggling in my bonds and trying to tell him to stop as my over-sensitive member was driving me crazy, but Tim just kept on working on my penis in spite of my protests.

I know I had more than four climaxes from Tim's insistent tongue, but I never counted exactly how many because my mind was occupied with the desire for Tim to stop his almost painful, continuous stimulation of my dick.

Of course he did stop eventually, but only after I'd had so many climaxes that I was having trouble standing up and the collar around my neck was almost choking me because I was pulling on the chain over the tree branch, still attached to the collar.

At last the boys told me that I'd passed the test and they began undoing the straps which had been holding my head still and the one which had held my mouth open for hours.

My mouth was very dry from being held open for so long and when the boys wanted me to recite a promise, I could barely whisper so they gave me a drink of water from a bottle, then I managed to promise never to tell about the hideout or what had happened to me there. I didn't really want to make the promise, but I felt like I had no choice.

They removed the collar and leg cuffs and everything was packed away in the bags, then the boys put my underpants, shorts, socks and shoes back on me and my harness was once again attached to the one which Tim had put back on.

The boys rode back near to the road before removing my harness and putting my tee-shirt on me again, then with me seated again on the towel over the bike bar, they rode back into town, eventually stopping right where they'd picked me up earlier in the day.

The boys said goodbye to me and rode off just as though nothing unusual had happened. I watched them until they were out of sight, then I ran all the way home as fast as my little legs could take me. I needed the toilet, badly.

I thought about telling my parents what had happened, but the combination of not knowing if I'd be believed and the promise I'd been made to recite caused me to remain silent.

***

I never saw those boys again, but I do remember hearing a news report a week or two later about the police looking for a couple of young boys on bicycles who had 'indecently assaulted' a little boy so they'd probably done the same things to at least one other boy. I don't know if Mike and Tim were ever caught, but I suspect not.

Because nobody ever knew what had been done to me, there was no fuss made and that actually helped me to get over the events of that day. Over time, those events became more 'just something which happened' than anything particularly traumatic, in my mind.

I occasionally think back on what was done to me, and to my surprise I find that I can now largely ignore how badly it hurt at the time. It's more like it happened to someone else, and so I can now enjoy the memory and usually become aroused from it.

I played some similar but far less painful games with other boys my own age when I was older, but Mike and Tim will always be the ones who gave me the most intense sexual experience of my life.

I wonder if those were even their real names?

The End