Chapter Twenty-One
Round and round

Back at home, Jonas went directly to the bathroom as he had done when he returned from Martin's house the day before.

Now, he rinsed his mouth with water, gargled for a long time with a mixture of toothpaste and water with his head leaned way back, and finally he brushed his teeth twice. When he was done, he still thought that he could taste the rubber and his bitter bile, and he certainly hadn't forgotten the feeling of helplessness that he had felt while in the basement.

He was helpless even now, his penis locked inside the shiny silvery piece of rounded metal that was scarcely long enough to be called a tube.

It looks like my penis is super small now, he thought as he stood naked in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom and studied himself. In fact, it looked as though his penis was made up entirely of a silvery glans, most of the tube's short length was hidden within the solid ring that pushed his balls as far forwards as his scrotum would allow, holding them trapped there while also holding the very short tube in place.

The new cock cage wasn't hurting his penis or balls as such, it just made everything down there very warm. It made his penis sweat and it felt very heavy for its small size – it was even smaller than the pink holiday cage had been – and yet he knew it was so much sturdier. He might not be the brightest student in school but even he knew that metal was many times stronger than plastic.

I'll never get out of this without unlocking it, he realized and checked the small hole in which the little locking mechanism sat. The entire mechanism was recessed about half a centimetre into the tube's base and he could just about make out the tiny keyhole at the bottom of the dark hole, but he had no key for it and nothing small enough to act as a pick.

I don't know anything about lock-picking, anyway, he told himself with a small sob and entered the shower stall.

Later that evening, the cock cage and the catheter no longer bothered him as much as they had. However, when he sat on the toilet to have a pee for the first time in his new chastity device – in what had become his normal 'non-sissy fashion', facing the water tank to the rear of the toilet – he discovered that his urine shot out in a spray from the stainless steel tip and spurted onto the bottom of the upraised lid.

"Feck!" he exclaimed and tried to direct his urine into the bowl below. He tugged on the cock cage which in turn pulled uncomfortably on the catheter inside his urethra and then his balls started to ache; he just couldn't tilt the shiny cock cage far enough forward. He ended up trying to bend his entire upper body forwards, but the water tank was in his way.

He forced the cock cage back in place, painfully pushing the hidden catheter further into his urethra, and got up on his feet.

However, he wasn't successful when he tried to stand and pee like a normal boy; his yellow stream still burst forth like a sprinkler from the small opening in the cage and he had no way to control the spray.

"Oh, no!" he was near tears when he realized he would have to sit properly on the toilet and have a wee like a girl. He contemplated if he could use the shower stall, but he was certain his mum would somehow notice and tell him off if he were to start using it as a urinal.

It would be disgusting to pee in the shower, anyway, he decided. And if I did, I'd have to take a shower to get rid of the pee or Mum and Dad would wonder why I ran the shower. A cold shower for every pee didn't sound pleasant at all and would surely make his parents extremely curious about why he was taking so many showers.

They might think I was wanking! The irony was almost enough to make him smile. Alas, he found nothing to smile about when he sat facing the proper way on the toilet, his legs spread as far as they'd go, bent over while the urine slowly vacated his body through the thin catheter. It took more than twice as long as normal before his bladder was finally drained.

How long is it going to go on? he wondered as he sat waiting for drops of pee to stop emerging from the small hole in the stainless steel coupling at the end of his chastity device. He wiped each drop off with paper, hoping it would be the last.

Finally, a couple of minutes later, he heeded Martin's advice and placed a folded up piece of paper in the front of his underwear.

Before Jonas was ready for it, his dad came to fetch his electronics.

"It's only half past nine [21:30], Dad," Jonas complained. "It's not for another five minutes," he said in his most whiny tone of voice as he double-checked the schedule pinned on his noticeboard.

"See?" he pointed to the first Monday on the list, just below the Sunday that he had already angrily crossed out with a red pen. "It isn't fair."

"Come now, son." Peter stifled a yawn. "I'm dead tired. Just give me your computer and phone. What's five minutes?"

I'll remember that! Jonas vowed as he punched the power button on his laptop. I'll tell him that when he comes moaning about me still being up one day. "But, Dad, what's five minutes?"

Still, Jonas relinquished his iPhone without feeling a great sense of loss, the phone had become nearly useless to him ever since Martin removed most of the apps and locked it. However, he wasn't happy at all when he handed over his computer after it had finished shutting down and he did nothing to hide his dissatisfaction.

"It was your shoddy schoolwork that brought this on you," Peter reminded his son and left him to brood on his own.

The next day, Tuesday, Jonas was back in front of Martin's house again. He had felt anxious ever since waking up, fearing what horrors the man would force upon him during this visit. I hope he won't make me wear the mask again, he thought with great trepidation.

Jonas felt certain that Martin wouldn't back down from his threat of giving him another dose of his sperm and he knew of only two ways the man could do so. He'll either fuck my mouth or my bum. I guess I'd rather he did it in my bum as long as he doesn't smack me first.

He knew that being fucked in the bum by Martin would most likely hurt a lot – it certainly had the first time – but he figured it wouldn't make him feel as sick as it would if the man put the mask on him again.

I nearly barfed yesterday, he remembered, and he felt a chill down his back as he remembered how it had felt when Martin's penis cut off his breathing.

Jonas checked each direction of the street, saw no-one and quickly entered the man's little front garden. He strode up to the front door, entered the house and quickly shut the door behind him before anyone had a chance to see him entering the house.

After he shut the door, he stopped for a short moment. He could hear music from the evil man's hobby room. This wasn't so unusual in itself, Martin had listened to music once or twice before, normally U2 or Bob Dylan or some other artist that Jonas didn't like, but the singing his ears picked up now was high-pitched and sounded as if it was coming from a small children's show.

He stood there on the doormat for about half a minute, wondering whether he should leave or stay. It seemed highly unlikely to him that Martin would be listening to such childish music on his own and Jonas thought the man might have company.

However, when nothing happened, apart from the silly song ending and restarting, he began to take off his clothes as that was what Martin had told him to always do before he could leave the mat.

This had better not be another one of his torture sessions, he grudgingly told himself as he folded his shirt and carefully placed it on top of his shoes; he could vividly remember the time when Martin had played old and boring songs for nearly an hour while he'd been forced to practice his 'at-ease' stance behind the chair.

Oh sheesh, I really can't stand that song, he told himself when the song restarted just as he noiselessly moved over to take up the position he had practised enough times that it no longer required any conscious effort to assume. The wheels on that bus must bloody well be worn out by now!

Still, it was better to listen to the childish song than be savagely fucked in the bum or being choked to tears by the man's monstrous penis. Much, much better, Jonas decided and shut his eyes.

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, all round the town. He couldn't help but sing along to the song that he knew by heart from his own childhood, although he did so silently.

The song had run its course, restarted, and then again, by which time Jonas had stopped singing along and fallen half asleep, before he heard Martin's voice from the hobby room.

"Find another song, please," the man said, shocking Jonas; as far as he could remember, Martin had never used that word when asking him to do something and he wondered who was there in the room with him.

"No!" came a curt reply and the song started anew, louder this time.

"For Pete's sake!" Martin's voice grew louder, too, which made Jonas think the man was entering the living room where he was waiting.

"Oh, good, you're finally here," he heard and Martin came right up behind him.

Jonas felt a touch on his bottom that made him jerk upright, though he remembered to maintain his grip on his left wrist.

"Still jumpy, I see. Good news for you, sissy, the colours on your arse cheeks are fading. If you behave they'll be back to their normal paleness by the time school starts."

Jonas remained silent, he was trembling with fear; the merry tune that still played in the man's hobby room was but a low murmur to him now that he felt Martin's hands roaming all over his buttocks. He leaned forward in a silent but futile attempt to prevent the man's fingers from dipping into his butt crack and brush up against his bum hole. A single digit probed harder and he felt the tip go inside before it was removed.

"That's better," Martin said while he observed the yellow/brownish sheen on his finger. "That's how I want your arse from now on," he instructed and moved his hand around so Jonas could see what he meant. "There's just enough evidence to tell what the secondary purpose for that orifice is. Lick it clean, sissy."

Secondary? What's the primary then? Jonas wondered as he reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed the dirty finger to enter. Even though the taste was horrendous he sucked and licked the tip clean, all the while trying to ignore the fact that it was his own filth he was getting a taste of.

"Who's that?" a young voice rang out, startling both Jonas and Martin. "Where's his clothes?"

Only now did Jonas realize the wheels and the wipers and all the passengers on the bus had stopped going round and round and up and down; he saw from the corner of his eyes a little kid with big eyes looking up at him and Martin.

"This is Jonas," Martin explained without removing his finger from Jonas's mouth. "He's naked because he likes it."

"Oh. Why's he sucking on your finger?"

"Because he likes to suck on stuff, Jackie."

"Is he stupid? Can he talk?"

Jonas didn't know whether he should nod or shake his head. He had never thought he was particularly stupid, no more so than other kids. Well, maybe I am a little bit stupid, getting myself into this heap of trouble, but I can talk.

He wasn't going to, though. Martin told me I can't talk when I'm standing like this. He'll hurt me if I do. But he couldn't relay his thoughts to the younger and very curious boy still looking up at him with his big brown eyes from under a mop of auburn hair.

"He knows how to talk. Now, why don't you go back to watching your screen?"

"No!" Jackie nearly shouted the word. "It's boring! I want to be naked. If he can be naked, I can, too!" The boy started to tear at the knitted sweater he was wearing.

"Okay, okay, Jackie. Fine. But, not just now. I have to speak with Jonas first, he'll help you undress, okay?"

"I can take my clothes off myself," the boy stated, though it didn't seem entirely that way to Jonas.

"Give us two minutes, then Jonas will help you with your clothes. He'll even play some games with you, okay?"

I will? Jonas wondered. What games?

"Okay," Jackie relented, spun in place and ran back to the hobby room.

"Listen, sissy," Martin said once the wheels started going round and round again. "My brother dumped Jackie on my doorstep this morning. He's been here since seven and I can't stand the little brat. He's being spoiled rotten by my brother and the worthless piece of shit whore he married, and the kid never listens to anything I say. I've made out a list of things I want you to do with him over the next couple of hours while I go do some shopping and clear my mind, you got that, bitch boy?"

Jonas nodded, afraid of what might happen if he refused. But, I don't know what to do with small kids! he thought, horror-struck.

"I'm leaving you in charge while I'm gone, sissy. It's up to you how you do the things on the list. You may decide that you'd rather not do one or more of the things, but you should know that I'll punish you for every task you don't do well enough. The punishment will only be so much worse if you skip any of the tasks. Do you understand?"

Jonas nodded and managed to squeak out a "Yes!" around Martin's finger.

"Good. I thought I'd have to tell you not to come today when my brother dumped Jackie on me, but I figured why not kill two birds with one stone? I need to shop and Jackie seriously needs to be taught a lesson. I can't do that myself, he'd tell his bitch mother if I so much as talked sternly to him and then I'd never hear the end of it.

"But, an older kid, even a little sissy bitch like you, should be able to nudge the little brat in the right direction. I don't give a shit about how you pull it off, really, just do the things on the list before I get home or suffer the consequences. I'll have my fun either way."

Martin pulled his finger from Jonas's mouth and checked it for cleanliness while he carried on. "The list is on my desk next to the keyboard, you had better get in there before he rips his clothes," he said and gave Jonas's arse a stinging slap. "Remember, do well, or I'll have to smack this much harder and for much longer than I've ever done before."

Jonas went to the hobby room. Martin had just left the house, taking all of Jonas's clothes with him, and the man had locked the front door. There was no knob for the lock on the inner side of the door, just a keyhole and the two windows Jonas quickly checked also required a key to open, including the French doors to the garden.

I'd have to smash a window to get out, Jonas realized, but knew he couldn't do that.

I can't leave a five-year-old all alone even if I could find a way out of here, Jonas told himself. He hadn't been asked if he wanted to mind the kid, if so he would've firmly said no. Not that Martin would've cared. He'd leave me with him anyway, he supposed as he went to the hobby room. What the feck does he want me to do to him, though?

He found Jackie having worked his arms free from the knitted sweater, but his red-faced head was still stuck in the neck opening.

"Here, I'll help you," he offered.

"I can do it!" Jackie replied with exasperation in his voice. "It just won't come off, stupid shirt."

"Okay. Well, if you don't want my help, you'll just have to keep trying," Jonas said and turned his attention from the struggling kid to the single piece of paper that he found where Martin had said it would be. He flipped it over and started to read, dreadfully slowly.

The chaise longue, that's where he had me wank that first time, Jonas remembered. That means he'll be filming everything I do!

His suspicions were confirmed as he read on.

Yeah, I thought so!

"Allie?" Jonas wondered loudly. How does Martin know anything about Allie?

"Who's Allie?"

"Someone I used to know," Jonas said, sadly, and read on.

"Feck," Jonas muttered to himself, he could scarcely believe what he was reading.

"You said a naughty word," Jackie sang out from under the knitted sweater that he had pulled up over his head but still hadn't managed to get off.

"I did not," Jonas said without taking his eyes from Martin's letter, he scrunched up his nose as he read the next part.

Oh, god, that'll be so disgusting!

Is he for real? Jonas wondered, incredulously. He had no desire whatsoever to do any of the things on the list with another boy, most of them he would not have even wanted to do with Allie. I'm not homo and Jackie's just a little kid!

He looked up from the sheet of paper and saw that Jackie had finally managed to rid himself of his sweater. The sweater lay discarded on the floor, inside-out and the kid now wore a tight, sleeveless white undershirt, and was trying to unbutton his blue jeans.

"Dang!" Jackie exclaimed, looked up and met Jonas's eyes. "Can you do it for me?" he asked, somewhat timidly.

Here goes, thought Jonas. I've no choice, do I? he asked himself and reached the conclusion that he didn't. I must do it.

"Yeah," he told the small boy and nodded. "But, you got to stand up straight and suck in your tummy. Can you do that?"

"Uh-huh." Jackie nodded. "I'm doing it, but they won't open," he said and sighed.

"Jeans are tricky," Jonas agreed and sat on the floor in front of Jackie. "Now, suck in your tummy."

"They're dumb," Jackie stated and sucked in his stomach.

The boy's jeans looked new and Jonas discovered the buttonhole was so narrow he couldn't work the stiff brass button through it. Instead, he pulled the still buttoned jeans down by the waist, taking the boy's cartoon briefs down with them.

"Oh, sorry," Jonas mumbled, blushing when he suddenly found himself face to face with Jackie's little penis and balls.

"It's good," Jackie said and he sat on the floor like Jonas, just in front of the older boy. He worked the jeans further down until they caught on his feet. "Oh, dang!"

"I'll get them." Jonas grabbed the hem of the jeans legs and pulled. He lifted the boy's feet and legs up from the floor as he tugged on the jeans and finally they slid over the small socked feet. "I'll get those too," he said as he discarded the jeans; he grabbed the small red 'Cars' underpants and quickly freed the boy of them as well.

"I can take the rest off myself," Jackie said and started to pull the undershirt up over his head.

Jonas risked another look at the little guy's naked groin now that Jackie couldn't see that he was being checked out.

Martin lied, he discovered, feeling somewhat relieved. Jackie's penis is much smaller than mine.

The boy's balls were also smaller than Jonas's, sitting in a wrinkled scrotum, about the size of half a walnut shell. It was very pale and hugged the root of the boy's penis closely. Jackie's penis wasn't long enough to curve, it jutted straight out from his groin, although it flopped about when Jackie squirmed in his attempt to push the undershirt up over his head.

Jonas was mortified when he realized that he had just compared Jackie's private parts to his own. He thought he was well past that stage, last time he had done anything remotely like this was with Noah when they were nine and had done some experimenting with each other. He didn't think the odd glance getting changed at school counted.

We only humped back then, Jonas told himself. I'm forced to do much more with Jackie now. He studied the small boy as he finally managed to get the undershirt off and reached for his socks. He pulled them both off at the same time, flinging them in the same general direction of his other clothes.

He's so little, Jonas realized and somehow the realization made him feel slightly better with what he was about to do. It can't be gay when he's so much younger, can it?

It would be far worse if Martin had ordered him to lick Noah's butt, then he'd have to worry about whether Noah would keep it secret or not. Jackie would not think of it as anything but a silly game if Jonas did it properly, or so he hoped as he got back up from the floor.

"Come, let's go sit on the couch and we'll play," he told Jackie and helped the smaller boy up on his feet.

"Good! I want to watch Lego Star…"

"I know just the game we'll play first. After we're done with that, you get to choose what we do, okay?"

"Yes!" Jackie dashed out of the hobby room, leaving behind all of his clothes and Jonas; the older boy furrowed his brow as he studied Martin's list of tasks.

How do I start this? Jonas asked himself, suddenly feeling a bit worried. I can't kiss him, not as the first thing I do. I'm sure he won't like being kissed. Pretend that he's Allie? He couldn't be more different…

It seemed to Jonas that starting with the boy's penis would be better. I'll make it into a game…

Chapter Twenty-Two
Game time

Jonas entered the living room through the doorway that he had clung so desperately to just the day before. He found Jackie already sitting on the couch, remote in hand, clicking through the channels on Martin's huge TV while picking his nose.

The little boy was squirming on the leather couch as he searched for something to watch. His search ended with Doc McStuffins and he let himself fall backwards until he lay flat on the seat with his head propped up by the backrest cushion.

Jonas sat next to Jackie, very conscious about how close he sat to the little boy, his naked thigh was practically touching the boy's left arm. He would never have dared to sit this close to anyone else. Except for Allie, he thought. And Martin's note told me to pretend I'm with her…

Fortunately, Jackie didn't seem to mind. If he had objected or moved away, Jonas probably wouldn't have had the courage to start playing with the little boy.

As it was, Jonas cautiously placed his hand on the little boy's soft and warm tummy, just a short distance from the real objective. He waited, while faking interest in the little animated girl doctor on the TV tending to one of her stuffed animals, ready to remove his hand at the first sign of distress from Jackie.

The little boy said nothing, his entire focus was on the cartoon and his nose-picking, and Jonas carefully slid his hand further toward the little floppy penis. His fingers brushed over the virtually hairless flesh of Jackie's puffy pubic mound and made contact with another boy's private parts for the first time in nearly six years. He gingerly pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

Jackie giggled. "You're touching my willy!" he stated, his eyes quickly darting from the TV to watch the fingers on his penis and back to the cartoon.

"I've got to check if it's working," Jonas said, his voice croaking. "Does it ever get stiff?"

"Uh-huh," Jackie hummed. "I don't like when it sticks out."

"Why not?" Jonas asked, slowly rolling the soft flesh between his two fingers; he could scarcely believe what he was doing.

"It makes me pee on the toilet seat."

"And then your mum tells you off?"

"Uh-huh."

"You don't need to pee now, do you?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Okay. I'll try to make your willy stiff, then."

"Is it part of the procedure?" Jackie asked, using one of the cartoon character's words.

"Yes, it is. Your willy must be stiff for your examination," Jonas explained. "Why don't you move over there and lie down?" he suggested and nodded toward the chaise longue seat. "That's my examination table."

Jackie moved over and lay down happily, nose and cartoon ignored for now.

Jonas sat next to the little boy on the couch, reached over and pinched the little penis harder, increasing the rolling action. He was happy that the little boy didn't recoil from his touch and his confidence was on the rise; so was Jackie's penis.

It didn't grow much but the pudgy short penis grew very firm and Jonas switched to using proper wanking motions, now sliding the tight foreskin up and down over the boy's wet glans.

When Jonas decided that the little penis wouldn't grow any firmer, he moved his fingers away from it, so that the cameras would have a clear view of it. He couldn't see the camera above the TV, even though Martin's note had mentioned it, but he placed a finger on the little boy's bald pubic mound and used it to waggle the small penis back and forth.

"Doctor, is it working?" Jackie asked, staring intently at his stiff penis.

"I have to do some more tests," Jonas replied. "But, so far so good," he reassured his young 'patient'.

"Is yours broken? Is that why it's in that?" Jackie pointed at the shiny chastity device covering Jonas's penis.

"Yeah," Jonas said, quickly deciding that this was the easiest explanation for his penis being locked away.

"Did it hurt a lot?"

"Uh-huh." Jonas nodded. "Not now, though."

"I bet it hurt a whole lot! Did you cry?"

Martin makes me cry, all the time, Jonas thought and nodded sombrely. He was still fiddling with the younger boy's erection, almost unknowingly.

"I wouldn't cry," Jackie stated.

"No?" Jonas quickly saw the opportunity to get one more task done. "I think you would cry if your willy broke."

"Would not!" Jackie crossed his small arms over his chest. "I never cry!"

"I know something that hurts almost as bad but it won't break your willy." Jonas let his fingers slip down and caught one of the small boy's testicles. "I could squeeze your nuts very hard."

Jackie opened his eyes wide. "I won't cry," he insisted.

Oh, I hope you will, and soon, Jonas thought, he wasn't looking forward to having to hurt the kid too much.

"If you can keep from crying out for long enough, I'll let you squeeze my balls as hard as you can, okay?" Jonas told Jackie, almost repeating word for word what Martin had written.

"I won't cry at all!" Jackie stubbornly claimed the way only five-year-olds can.

"We'll see," Jonas said and he made a circle with his thumb and forefinger around the smaller boy's wrinkled scrotum, trapping both of his testicles. He started to squeeze, lightly at first.

"Hah!" Jackie scoffed. "That doesn't hurt."

"We've only just started," Jonas warned and squeezed just a bit harder.

Jackie shook his head. "Doesn't hurt."

A tighter squeeze and Jonas saw how the smaller boy screwed up his face, yet Jackie didn't cry out or tell him to stop. So he squeezed just a bit harder.

I hope he won't start to cry! Comforting a bawling kid didn't rank high on the list of his favourite things to do. Nevertheless, he squeezed harder still, and again seconds later.

"Owie," Jackie finally said and Jonas immediately let up the pressure on the little scrotum.

"Now you know what a broken willy feels like," Jonas explained, gingerly petting the little boy's ballsack. "Well, sort of."

"I didn't cry!" Jackie stated, exultantly. "Can I squeeze your nuts now?"

Jonas took a deep breath. "Yes," he said reluctantly and let go of Jackie's balls. "That was the deal."

"Uh-huh. I bet I'll make you cry," Jackie said and sat up on his knees.

"Move over, so I can lie down," Jonas instructed and lay on the chaise longue when the younger boy moved aside. He spread his thighs and immediately felt a small hand on the most fragile part of his body.

Before Jonas had a chance to brace himself, Jackie bore down and his little hand squeezed the older boy's balls up against the unyielding metal of the cock cage.

"Does this hurt?" Jackie asked, keeping up the pressure.

Jonas felt like screaming but Martin's note had warned him not to do so. He didn't trust his voice and shook his head instead.

"Oh." Jackie sounded disappointed to Jonas and the younger boy clasped his other hand around the first and used both to squeeze even harder.

Uooorgh! Jonas winced and bit down hard while Jackie ground his delicate balls against each other. "Didn't hurt," he claimed in a small throaty whisper when the small boy finally let go of his balls.

"Gah," Jackie uttered, frustrated. "That thing is in the way," he said and slapped the chastity device. "I can't hold them properly like you did."

Jonas groaned, wave after wave of painful surges shot from his groin and he could no longer lie on his back. He sat up and leaned forwards, clasped his knees and breathed heavily.

"Sorry," Jackie said, suddenly feeling full of remorse. "My nuts hurt, too. A little bit."

"I'll kiss them better," Jonas offered. "Just give me a minute."

"You want to kiss my nuts?"

"Sure, why not?" Jonas said, pretending to be cheerful, although his groin was hurting and he was disgusted by the remaining tasks on Martin's note. Kissing your balls is about the least disgusting thing I must do to you, he wanted to tell the boy, but he managed to hold his tongue. He slowly straightened his back and got up from the chaise longue.

"Here, lie back down on the examination table again," Jonas instructed his young charge and Jackie got into position. "Spread your legs wide like I did."

"You're really going to kiss them? They don't hurt much."

"Don't your mum kiss you better?" Jonas asked and without waiting for the answer, he leaned over and started to kiss the little wrinkled scrotum.

"Not there," Jackie replied and giggled.

"Nom-nom," Jonas said as he planted more kisses on the small boy's balls and penis, hoping to make it seem like an innocent game all the while trying to forget the painful sensation from his groin and making sure at least one of the cameras had a clear shot of what he was doing. "Yummy," he stated, smacking his lips and dove back in smothering the giggling boy's private parts with more wet kisses.

Jackie started howling with pearly laughter when Jonas's kisses turned into tongue lapping. "Yo-you… hehehe… You're… haha… You're lick-licking my… hehehe – my nuts!"

The boy thrashed from side to side, giggling and laughing, and Jonas had to hold his knees to keep them from hitting his face.

"You think that's funny?" Jonas asked. He was having fun too, smitten by the younger boy's happy sniggering and snorting.

"Wait 'til I do this, then," he said and lifted Jackie's legs up from the couch. He bent them up over the little boy's slightly puffy tummy and now had an unobstructed view to his little wrinkled pink bum hole.

Jonas didn't stop to think, he poked his tongue out at the gasping boy and leaned over, tongue still out, and lapped like a dog at the boy's pink hole.

Jackie exploded in a renewed fit of laughter when Jonas's tongue swiped across his bum hole again. "It tickles!" he shouted with glee.

It's working, Jonas thought. He thinks it's just a silly game. Jonas was happy, too. His ordeal wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared it would be. Sure, I'm licking a boy's butt, but it doesn't taste like shit. He wasn't sure what it tasted like, but it wasn't a wholly horrible taste. It tastes better than mine, he decided.

Jonas took one last swipe of Jackie's butt and looked up at the giggling boy's flushed face.

"Do you like it?" he asked and received a series of vigorous nods in return.

"Do it again," Jackie urged.

"I will," Jonas promised. "But, my finger feels left out. He wants to say hi to your bum, too, just like my tongue," he explained, keeping his face straight. "Can he?"

"Okay," Jackie agreed.

"It'll feel sort of weird," Jonas warned and sucked on his index finger, wetting it with his spittle while he held Jackie's legs up with his other arm. "Hold your legs up for me," he bid the young boy in a gentle voice.

Jackie clasped his thighs and lay back, his lower legs and feet dangling over his face; his small bum clear off the couch pointing skyward.

Jonas took his finger out of his mouth and leaned over Jackie's upturned butt. He moved in close and dribbled some of his spittle onto the slightly sunken orifice before he placed his finger on the wrinkled opening. He tickled the smaller boy's balls as he carefully started to dig his finger inside of his bum.

"Ooh." Jackie exhaled with the surprise of something other than his own finger entering his little hole. He let out a giggle when he felt Jonas's tickling fingers on his balls.

"Do you like it?" Jonas asked; he could scarcely believe that half of his finger had already disappeared into the little giggling boy's tight and warm passage. He had expected that Jackie would be crying and fighting his finger at this point. He stopped tickling the younger boy's scrotum and stroked the small stiffy a couple of times.

"Uh-huh," Jackie hummed with his eyes closed.

"Cool," Jonas said and pushed his finger in deeper. Oh crap, I nearly forgot!

"I'm going to put my middle finger in your bum, okay, Jackie?"

"Yes," Jackie agreed and opened his eyes when he felt the older boy's finger start to slide back out.

"Keep your legs up," Jonas said and quickly pushed his finger into his mouth before he had a chance to see how dirty it was – this was the worst of all the things on the list, sucking his finger clean after having pulled it from the little boy's bum hole. Well, I still have to lick him clean after I fuck him with my finger, Jonas remembered uneasily.

His finger definitely tasted like butt now, he decided, and he had only slipped it in and removed it straight away. His middle finger was just under a centimetre longer than his index finger and he was supposed to move it in and out of the little boy's tight bum hole for a minimum of five minutes.

There's no faking it, Jonas realized. The cameras were situated so that at least one of them would pick up anything the two boys did to each other on the couch.

That's when he remembered another thing he had almost forgot.

"I'm going to push my finger in and out for five minutes, then you can do it to me, if you want," he told Jackie, hoping the boy wouldn't be interested. "You can push your fingers into my bum," he said and swallowed. "You can push in as many fingers as you like, for as long as you want."

The little boy wrinkled his nose with apparent disgust.

"I'll lick your fingers real clean, like I just licked my finger clean, see?" Jonas hated telling Jackie this and he hated Martin for making him do it. He hated himself, too, for being too scared to oppose the man. Still, he held out his clean-licked wet finger for Jackie's inspection.

After a prolonged wait, Jackie finally nodded. "Okay, if you want," he agreed.

I don't! Martin's forcing me to do it, Jonas wanted to scream, but he didn't. He found himself nodding, too, before he started to wet his middle finger.

"You really like to lick?" Jackie asked.

Jonas nodded again.

Jackie lit up. "You can lick my willy, too!" He sniggered at what he must have thought was a very bold and funny suggestion.

"Alright," Jonas acquiesced. That's on the list too, isn't it? It scarcely mattered to him now, he had already licked the boy's small balls, and his butthole. And I licked my finger after it was up his bum, Jonas summarized. Licking the boy's still super stiff little pudgy willy would be next to nothing compared to the things he had already done.

He had an idea. "Want me to suck on your willy while I push my finger in and out of your bum?"

"Yes!" Jackie replied, delightedly.

This is easier than I thought it would be, Jonas reflected as he kneeled on the floor next to the chaise longue. He didn't need to tell Jackie what to do, the little boy quickly moved his body closer to the edge and he lifted his legs back up, again exposing his little butthole to Jonas. More importantly, the little boy was smiling. He still thinks it's just a fun game.

Jonas placed the pad of his middle finger on the little wrinkled opening, this made Jackie squirm, but the little boy kept smiling and Jonas bent forward, breaking eye contact as he sought out the little stiff willy with his mouth. Just as his lips touched the floppy foreskin, Jonas started to slowly push his slick middle finger into Jackie's warm bum.

He tried to keep the two motions in sync, the further his finger went into the tight opening, the further he sucked in the little stiff penis. Jackie's penis was shorter than Jonas's finger and the older boy's lips pressed against the bald pudgy pubic mound sooner than his finger had reached its maximum depth within the boy's bum. Jonas pushed slightly harder, quickly sinking the remaining third of his finger into the still squirming little boy's hole.

"Good?" he mumbled around the smaller boy's stiffy.

"Uh-huh," Jackie said. "It tickles."

Jonas was feeling rather pleased with himself, he had managed to do most of the things on Martin's note, he only had to finger fuck the small kid for at least five minutes and then kiss him.

Like Allie kissed me. He reminisced that glorious moment while he sucked on Jackie's stiffy; he imagined what Allie would've done to him if she hadn't seen his pink holiday chastity device and now did that to the small boy.

He pulled down the little boy's foreskin using only his lips and ran the tip of his tongue against the small glans. A slightly tangy flavour of stale pee spread in his mouth but this was nothing compared to the foul taste of rubber and bile he had experienced the day before. It certainly wasn't enough to make him stop.

Besides, Jackie's penis was much too short to make him sick from sucking on it; it was about the size of Jonas's little finger and the older boy pressed his lips hard down against the pubic mound and sucked in as hard as he could. At the same time, he sent the entire length of his finger powerfully into the boy's increasingly sloppier hole.

Jackie responded with coos and giggles, mixed with small grunts every time the older boy's longest finger went all the way inside of his butthole.

Jonas pulled his finger out and sucked on it, giving it a new coating of his spittle before he plunged it back inside the small boy. He sucked on Jackie's stiffy, then opened wide and sucked everything the boy had between his legs, stiffy and balls, inside his mouth.

Oh Allie! He groaned when he suddenly felt a sharp pain from his groin, promptly bringing him out of his dream.

"Urgh," he moaned again as his penis tried to grow hard inside the miniscule cock cage. There was absolutely no room for growth and the stainless steel coupling was well inside his urethra; along with the catheter it acted like an inflexible sound, locking his penis in place in the exact centre of the small metal tube.

This didn't stop it from trying to grow hard, though, and Jonas groaned with pain again.

"More," Jackie urged before he picked up on the older boy's distress. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Jonas replied, trying to act like everything was fine. I'm getting boned up from sucking off a small kid? What's wrong with me? he wondered.

"I want to stick my fingers in your bum now."

"Uh," Jonas considered the request and then nodded. Maybe it'll stop my penis from trying to get hard, he hoped. "Yeah, fine."

"Kneel up here," Jackie commanded and rolled off the chaise longue, ending up standing next to it while Jonas climbed up onto the long seat. "Your bum this way," he said, impatiently.

Jonas moved his body backwards, toward the TV, and stopped when his feet fell off the cushion. He lay with his knees parted as widely as they'd go and rested his chest on the seat. Suddenly, he felt a finger stabbing into his butthole.

"Orrh," Jonas groaned from the painful sensation.

Jackie giggled. "It's only my pinkie," the little boy said and pulled his finger out.

"You stuck it in dry," the older boy clarified. "You need to make it wet with your spit before you stick it in or it'll hurt."

"You do it," Jackie ordered. He moved to the side of the chaise longue and held out his index finger; the very same that Jonas had seen digging deep inside the younger boy's nostril.

Well, can't see any boogers on it, he decided and quickly sucked on it, making it wet.

"That's enough," Jackie stated and dashed back to stand behind Jonas's rear end.

"Ouf!" The finger that now went inside Jonas's bum hole was wet, but this only helped the young boy stick it in so much quicker.

"Do you like it?" Jackie asked while he continued to completely remove his finger and stick it back in as quickly as possible.

"It feels good," Jonas lied. The younger boy's aim wasn't always true and more often than not he felt the stubby index finger roughly poke him next to his sphincter before it found its way inside. But, I'd rather suffer this than have Martin smack me again, he decided.

Soon, Jackie was back at Jonas's front again, this time presenting three of his fingers: The index finger that he had just jabbed into Jonas's bum along with his middle finger and ring finger.

Jackie didn't poke his three fingers into Jonas's bum with the same fervour and it wasn't long before he stopped altogether. "This isn't fun," he whined. "I wanna watch Lego Star Wars."

"Not yet. Now, it's my turn again," Jonas persisted and sat up. "Come here and sit in my lap." He lifted the smaller naked boy up and sat him down so they were facing each other. "Have you ever kissed someone, other than your mum and dad?"

"Martin," Jackie said after a moment of concentrated thinking.

"Any girls your age?" Jonas probed, and when he saw the disgust spread on Jackie's face, added: "Or boys?"

"No!"

"So you don't know how to kiss. That's unfortunate." Jonas had to explain what he meant by that word.

"Why?"

"You need to be prepared, little guy. You don't want to kiss someone and not know what to do. They won't like that."

"Oh."

"Oh, I know, I'll kiss you," Jonas told Jackie. "I'll show you. I'll make you a super-star kisser."

"I don't wanna kiss a girl," Jackie said and tried to wriggle free from Jonas's hold.

"Well, that's your choice, though I don't think you should tell a girl that. I still have to teach you, it won't take long, five minutes."

Jackie was still wriggling when Jonas caught his head and kissed the boy's small pouty lips.

"Sit still," Jonas instructed in a gentle voice and kissed Jackie again.

"Yuck!" Jackie cried out and moved his head back.

"Come on, Jackie. Be a good boy. Don't you want to learn to kiss?"

"No!" Jackie punctuated his refusal by head-butting Jonas, luckily the little guy's forehead only struck against the chin of the older boy; the impact was so hard that it might have broken his nose if that had been the target.

It still hurt both boys, enough to bring tears to Jonas's eyes and make Jackie cry.

"No, please! Don't cry," Jonas begged, trying to ignore the pain in his chin and soothe his young charge. "We don't have to kiss," he said and carefully picked up Jackie and placed him on the seat next to him.

"We'll watch Star Wars," Jonas promised and picked up the remote. Feck, it had better be on, he swore while he clicked through the channels.

When Martin returned, two hours later, the boys were still watching TV. Jonas hadn't dared to kiss Jackie again, instead he had sat with his arm around the little kid's shoulders while the little boy engrossed himself in the colourful short cartoons being played, every now and then interrupted by commercials.

Jonas was surprised when Martin just handed him his clothes.

"Go home," the man told him. "Come back tomorrow and we'll discuss how well you carried out your assignment."

Jonas put on his clothes and left the house as quickly as he could, not allowing the man a chance to change his mind.

He started to worry when he sat on the bus.

Did I finish all of the things on Martin's list? He hadn't, he felt certain. We didn't do the kissing one.

Jonas was a slow reader and there had been so many things on that list that he'd scarcely had the time to read them all.

"Oh no!" he suddenly said, aloud, then remembered that he was on the bus and that there were other passengers on it. I didn't suck Jackie until he came from it.

That was at least two things he'd failed to do and he was certain that Martin would not miss that.

Later that same evening – after dinner but with plenty of time to spare before bedtime – Jonas's phone beeped, alerting him of an incoming Snapchat message. He knew who the message was from even before he picked up the phone.

Martin, he told himself. The man had erased all of Jonas's real friends and added himself, using a picture of some unknown boy for his profile. Jonas who hadn't asked who the boy was, now wondered if perhaps he was also a slave of the man.

Cause, that's what I am now, isn't it? A slave… The thought was horrifying, yet it was true. He might not be wearing a collar around his neck for everyone to see, but the cage around his cock worked just as well.

The phone beeped again and Jonas reached for it. His fingers trembled as he unlocked the screen and started the app.

"Cute game," he read from the phone's screen. "You didn't follow the ins-instru… Instruments? No, now I get it… You didn't follow the instructions, though."

"Be here by eight tomorrow morning. We'll discuss your punishment," Jonas read from the second message before it disappeared like the first had. Oh shit, no.

So far, Jonas had only ever arrived at Martin's house at noon. This had given the man just five hours to do as he pleased with him. While five hours still felt like an eternity at times, Jonas knew enough maths to understand that by being summoned at eight o'clock in the morning, he'd be under the man's control for nine straight hours before he'd have to return home for dinner.

It'll feel like two eternities, he assumed. He had displeased Martin, the man who was in charge of him, more so than either of his parents had ever been. They only ever send me to my room or take away my stuff. They had never done anything to him that left bruises, something Martin didn't seem to mind doing.

When the time came to surrender his electronics, Jonas did so without objections or comments. He wanted to tell his mum about the trouble he was in but he couldn't find the words to tell her. It all made him feel so ashamed of himself that he couldn't bear the thought of letting anyone in on his secret.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Morning of first full day

Jonas boarded the bus and showed his pass to the lady chauffeur.

The woman smiled and nodded to him. "You're up bright and early," she said. "I wish my son would do the same, but he's determined to get the most from the last lie ins of the summer."

Jonas would have loved to lay in bed still, instead he had to carefully make his way down the aisle of the accelerating bus along the rows of occupied seats toward the middle doors. Here was an area for trams and strollers, and for those unfortunate ones who boarded the bus to find all the seats occupied, such as himself.

He hated when the bus was packed full, he always ended up in the middle of the aisle, having to cling desperately to one of the handles on the backrests of the seats. He stood with his feet well spread, facing the side of the bus. This ensured he wouldn't topple over when the bus braked or accelerated, but it always left him feeling vulnerable.

He dreaded the bus pulling over to let out passengers, they always seemed to slide their way past him doing their best to smother him with their breath smelling from cigarettes or coffee while their handbag or computer case slammed into his hip or backside. Once, someone had even cupped a feel of his butt while passing him, although he hadn't been able to tell who had done so.

This morning was worse than any school morning had ever been, although he'd boarded the same bus at the same time he would when going to school. He was heading toward Martin's house, though.

So, I can be punished. Jonas thought it was unjust, but he feared the consequences of further disobeying Martin by staying away even more than surrendering himself to the man's wrath. He promised that he'd never kill me. And he hasn't, yet.

Still, Jonas worried about his fate while the friendly lady bus driver brought him ever closer to Martin's house. Although the man hadn't killed him, Jonas had come close to wishing he would so he'd be spared from more suffering.

He opened the man's front door just as the bell of a nearby church started to ring. It was eight o'clock, Wednesday morning, there were only one and a half weeks left of the summer vacation before school would recommence. Jonas could hardly wait.

He undressed on the doormat. This morning he heard no merry tunes coming from the hobby room. He couldn't hear anything save for his own heartbeat thumping away.

He took up his position at the table, hoping it would be hours before Martin came for him.

His hopes were shattered when he heard the man approach from behind mere seconds later.

"Spread your feet wide apart and lean over the table," Martin whispered and waited for Jonas to do that.

"You never cease to amaze me," he continued when Jonas lay over the table. "I wanted you to be rough with the little shit. Instead you played with him and comforted him when he started to cry." Martin scoffed. "That kid cries over nothing. Well, bitch, I've news for you.

"You took three of the little toad's fingers yesterday, quite comfortably from the looks of it, let's see if you can't take his entire fist today. Before my brother came and picked up his little brat, I made a plaster mould from his tiny hand. I used a couple of those 'make a copy of your own cock'-kits and fabricated a little plug using that mould.

"I left it to set over night and took it out of the mould this morning. And now, it's going up your little arse."

"Wha-what?" Jonas stuttered. "What's going up my bum?"

"Little Jackie's fist. Well, a silicone replica of it. Life-sized," Martin said and placed the object in question on the table so Jonas could see it. "It's not much bigger than my cock, so I'm confident we can get it crammed up your arse if we work together."

The rubbery object looked very much like Jackie's right hand, as far as Jonas could remember from having seen it the day before. The thumb was pushed up against the four other fingers, making the first part of the object look somewhat like an arrow head. The hand narrowed into the wrist then all human likeness disappeared as the object quickly widened into a perfectly round ball slightly wider than the little hand.

"All of this goes in your arse," Martin explained, pointing to the fingers, the wrist, and the large ball. "This," he said, indicating the ball, "will keep it from coming out. And these will keep it from going all the way in," he continued and indicated two wide prongs sticking out from the end of the object.

"Now, reach back and spread your cheeks for me, sissy."

"You can't do this to me," Jonas claimed, but his words sounded feeble even to himself. There was no real fight left in him, the thrashing he'd been subjected to, the rape and the mask, all of that had torn at his confidence, shredding it to pieces, and his hands reached for his cheeks, spreading them just like Martin had ordered.

"I do believe I can. Now, pull those arse cheeks wider apart, sissy bitch. Pretend that it's my cock and I bet it'll slide right in."

Martin squeezed out a liberal amount of water-based lube and smeared it over the artificial fist, then aimed it at Jonas's rear-end.

The tips of the first three fingers went in with just a hiss from Jonas, then the tip of the little finger joined the rest, broadening his anus even further.

"Ouw," Jonas whimpered.

Martin didn't let up, though. He pushed somewhat harder and the little thumb started to go in.

"Ayeee, ow, ow, no! Stop!" the boy begged, to no avail.

"Keep that arse spread wide open," Martin said, sternly, "and keep the bloody noise down." The replica of his nephew's little fist had almost been fully swallowed by Jonas's arse, but the widest point seemed to be just a bit too big for the sissy kid.

"Bear down," he ordered. "It's almost in." He kept pushing at the base of the plug and rotated it slowly from side to side, waiting for the lad's sphincter to relax just enough for the plug to slide through.

"No, ack! Ow, please, stop! It hurts so much. You… I can't, please!" Jonas's pleading turned into loud sobs.

"We will get it in there," Martin said with a confidence he didn't quite feel. Is it really too big? he asked himself. Jackie's fist isn't even the widest part of the plug.

"Stop bawling, kid," Martin said after another minute of struggling. "Clearly this isn't working. You're putting up too much of a fight."

Martin wasn't to be put off by this minor setback; that Jonas was still trying to resist his fate was so much better than his too-willing clients who only ever defied him when they wanted a taste of his whip or paddle. But, his mind was set. The sissy will be plugged!

"Your sissy arse needs a bit of loosening up," Martin said, gave it a smack and placed the plug on the table next to Jonas.

Jonas heard the sound of a zipper being undone, still he dared not let go of his buttocks. "What're you…?" he asked, and felt a warm firmness touch his battered bum hole. "Oh, no! Please, not that!"

"Not a sound, sissy. If I have to gag you, it won't be coming off until you go home," Martin said, coolly, pushing his cock harder against the boy's hole. "Open, bitch. Your little cunt will be nice and sloppy after a good fuck. The plug will slide right in."

Martin pushed harder still, his cock head was being compressed as it pierced into the lad's sphincter, then suddenly, it passed through, the wide band of rubbery muscle compressing the shaft of his cock as he took a small step closer to the boy.

"Oh yeah," the man groaned. "There's nothing quite like the feeling of a tight thirteen-year-old cunt stretched around your cock in the morning."

Jonas felt like screaming and pulled harder on his buttocks, which seemed to alleviate the pain some. He tried to blot out Martin's degrading talk about how his butt felt – he didn't care whether it felt good to the man or not, he just wished for him to finish as soon as possible.

"Oh, just think about it, Jonas. I'll fill you with my seed again," Martin said. "And you won't be shitting them back out, not today. I'll feed them to you both ways, mouth and arse, you'll have at least two portions in you before I'll let you go home."

Martin's cock was finally in to the hilt, his coarse pubic hair irritating the boy's buttocks, and he ground his hips against the bent-over lad. He tested the position, found it adequate for his needs and started to fuck Jonas with savage thrusts.

"Ouw, not so, ouch! Oh-oh, oh! Puh-please, n-not so hard. Uh-uuh. Ma-Martin! Please, stop."

Jonas's pleas fell on deaf ears, Martin's movements accelerated until he was forcing the air from the boy's lungs with every impact of his pelvis against the firm buttocks.

Finally, Jonas realised that the need to hold his butt splayed open was gone, Martin held him firmly around his hips, never allowing his huge cock to slip out of the tight opening.

He ended up clutching the side of the table, doing what little he could to prevent Martin's thrusts from pushing his locked-up penis painfully up against it. It proved just as ineffective as his pleas to stop the man.

Martin didn't edge himself, he was planning to achieve a number of climaxes inside the little sissy before letting him leave; right now his goal was to fill him up with a load of sperm as quickly as possible.

That happened after another four minutes. The boy's pleas had stopped after just two, but his grunts had been loaded with defiance and enough to satisfy Martin.

With a bellow, Martin started to cum inside of Jonas. Puffing, he leaned down on top of the boy. "Do you feel it?" he asked and gasped with another contraction of his balls.

"Can you feel how my sperm is filling you up?

"Can you feel the tiny cells swimming in your bowels?

"They'll soon make you into a cock-loving little sissy cunt," Martin ended and pushed himself back up.

"And just to make sure they stay inside, we have this little plug," he said and picked up the home-made buttplug. His still engorged cock slipped out of the boy's arse with a wet sucking noise and a blubbery fart.

"Oh no, you don't," Martin said and quickly started to push the plug in, the fist slipping right in past the widest point, the ball took considerable more effort.

"Ow, fuck!" The ache in his bum made Jonas swear. "It won't fit, man," he said, his fingers desperately scratching at the table's smooth surface, trying to find enough traction to pull himself up and over the table, away from Martin.

"Stop scratching my table," Martin sneered. "Reach back and pull those buns apart again. It's nearly in."

Jonas reluctantly pulled on his cheeks once more. A brief moment of blinding pain later and the plug was fully in, fist and ball, his battered hole already closing up around the relatively thick end of it.

"That's Jackie's lower arm your arsehole is clenching up around now," Martin explained. "Right, get down on your knees, bitch."

Jonas whimpered, he had hoped the ordeal was over, but let himself slide backwards off the table, sinking to his knees.

"Not like that. Face me."

Jonas shuffled on his knees; the plug in his bum felt massive and the bulb at the end continually made him feel like he had to shit. His bowels tried to rid themselves of the mass but his sphincter refused to open wide enough for the bulb to pass through. It felt as if he was seriously constipated and the sensation made him screw up his face as he completed the turn and came to rest facing his tormentor.

"My cock's all greasy from your arse, slut. See? All that filth. I can't even touch it without getting my fingers dirty," Martin complained. "Clean it."

Jonas couldn't see any tissues or a washcloth – or anything else that could be used to wipe the man's penis – within range. "B-but how?"

"With your mouth, sissy. I want you to suck and lick it clean. I want you to suck my cock until I cum again. I want you to swallow everything."

Jonas made a face, "Yuck! No way, that's bloody disgusting," he stated. He could see small bits of what could only be his own poo on the man's penis, along with a glistening layer of frothy slime. "I won't do that! You can't make me!"

"You have ten seconds to get started. If your mouth isn't on my cock by then, I'll fetch the mask."

Jonas blanched at those words. He had felt like he was dying when Martin had pulled the rubber mask over his head and pushed his penis through it, deep into his mouth.

"Oh, yes. I'll fuck you straight down your throat this time. You'll end up so sore you won't be able to speak for a day or two."

Whimpering, Jonas leaned forward. He had concluded that licking the man's penis clean would be better than having his throat raped, still he didn't want to. He knew that Martin didn't care about what he wanted or not.

He'll do it if I don't do it, he told himself and closed his eyes, opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. He'll get the mask and…

Martin's warm and slimy penis bumped into Jonas's nose and upper lip before he could finish his thought and he leaned his head back a bit as he swiped his tongue against the skin.

"Open your eyes, sissy," Martin ordered. "I want you to see what you're doing. Now, lick and suck that cock, worship it with your soft and pouty lips. Make me cum, bitch."

"Grasp my cock with your right hand. Go on, grip it tighter, it won't hurt you. That's better. Now, grab my balls and gently knead them with your left hand. Nuzzle your lips up against the head… Orh, oh yes, that's it."

Martin relished the feelings that Jonas's actions were generating for a minute or two, his hands cupping the back of the lad's head.

"Pull the skin back and swirl your tongue around the head," he instructed.

Jonas was utterly disgusted from what he was being subjected to, making out with another guy's private parts was something he had never imagined himself doing. And it's just been up my bum, he thought, nevertheless he did as he was told; the alternative was too horrifying to consider.

The man's skin slipped back as he gave it a gentle tug and his tongue picked up a stronger flavour when he started to twirl it around the head. He tried to ignore the taste, refused to dwell on what he was licking as if it was some kind of warm ice cream, blotted out that it had just been pulled out of his rear-end.

My butt's full of slime. He could feel it, there was a wet slipperiness around the stalk of the plug that was stuck inside of him; he wanted to push down again, harder, and push out the plug along with all of Martin's vile stuff. But he didn't. He knew that it wouldn't work. It'll only hurt more.

Jonas focused on his licking. The taste wasn't so strong now that his saliva was mixing with the slimy residue, dissolving it. He was drooling, his chin was wet with his spittle, which disgusted him, but he'd rather endure that than swallow. He was revolted by Martin's moans and the hands on his head, the voice that encouraged him to do things he didn't want to do.

"Take it in," Martin whispered. "Open your mouth and let the head slip in, suck on it. Use your hand, milk it. Stroke my cock, cunt! Hold it like you mean it."

And Jonas firmed his grip around the slippery fat penis, so big that he could scarcely make his fingers meet around it, and opened his mouth. Carefully, he sucked in the glistening head, his silent tears mixing with his saliva.

"Good, move your head, back and forth, keep your lips firmed up around my cock, knead those balls and stroke my cock."

Jonas wondered how much longer he'd have to endure, wondered what time it was, if he could go home soon. His mouth was full of Martin's penis, it pushed against his tongue as he forced himself to move his head further toward the man's middle and sucked in his cheeks.

Seconds later, Jonas started to splutter when the large glans touched the soft palate at the back of his mouth.

"No, you're not backing off now," Martin said and stopped Jonas from pulling his head back. "Just keep kneading my balls while I fuck your mouth for a bit. Remember what I taught you the other day and swallow when I go in deep."

Swallowing was the last thing Jonas wanted to do; his mouth was full of his saliva, mixed with his anal juices, remnants of the water-based lube and flecks of poo. He was gagging with noisy retching sounds, his hands abandoning Martin's private parts and pushing at the man's hips.

Still, the penis remained in his mouth, pushing deeper and he felt certain that he'd heave up the Cornflakes he'd eaten for breakfast.

"If you throw up on my cock, I'll make you lick it clean," Martin threatened. "And if you throw up…"

Jonas didn't wait for Martin to finish his sentence, he swallowed, noisily, forcibly.

"…from that, you'll lick it all up again."

Jonas swallowed again. It repulsed him, but not as much as eating his own sick would, he presumed. It didn't pacify his gag reflex for long, however, and he was forced to swallow again before Martin slid his cock back so only the head remained inside his mouth.

I could bite him, Jonas contemplated. I could bite the head off his penis. He'd never hurt me with it again. He didn't though. He coughed, pitifully, and wheezed for air around the man's fat member.

"Again," Martin ordered and pushed forward.

Jonas wasn't sure for how much longer Martin had forced his penis into his mouth. When it pushed into the back of his throat and blocked off his airways he felt close to dying, he couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe.

Once, when it had been real bad, he had pummelled his fists against Martin's thighs. It had the desired effect and the man had pulled back and allowed him to cough and spit out the thick saliva, only to push his penis right back in.

Finally, Martin had taken to stroking his penis with the head pushed against Jonas's lips, just parting them, as his fist pounded up and down the length of his shaft. He held the lad's head in a vice with his left hand gripping the nape of his neck, making sure he couldn't move an inch.

It was another eternity before Martin groaned loudly and pushed his penis into Jonas's mouth once again, choking the boy while he climaxed.

"Swallow, bitch," he ordered and waited for Jonas to do so before he pulled out of his mouth.

"Now your spit is all over my fucking cock," he complained. "Lick it clean."

And when Jonas had done that, he was ordered to suck up the saliva he had spat onto the carpet.

"You're worthless," Martin commented. "It'll take a lot of practise before you can suck my cock properly. But, we'll just have to keep trying."

Jonas kept silent. He had a foul taste in his mouth, the sperm had been salty and tangy, which was quite bad enough, but the carpet had been worse, full of dust and it now felt as if he had sand between his teeth. It tastes like I took a bite out of Gran's antique sofa.

"Get up," Martin bid, "and follow me."

Jonas went with Martin to the French window and out to the back garden. Being outside while fully naked made him feel extremely uncomfortable. It was worse than the last time he'd been in the garden; back then he had at least worn a miniscule neon-green speedo, which had covered his private parts and bum cheeks.

He knew that no one would be able to see him through the thick hedges or the boarded fence, there was however nothing to prevent someone from looking down and see him from above and he could hear the hum from a small airplane flying somewhere close by.

"Stand here," Martin ordered at the edge of the tiled terrace. "Hold out your hands, palms up."

Jonas did as he was told, although his hands shook from fear. "Wha-what are you going to do?" he asked.

"This," the man said, picked up a bottle of sunscreen and deposited a good amount of the white cream in both of Jonas's hands. "Smear it on your skin, sissy. I don't want you to tan, remember?"

"Y-yes, but…"

Martin ignored the boy. "You'll mow the grass this morning. It's grown quite long as you can see, so I'll give you two hours to finish your first chore. Before you start, I want you covered in a fat layer of sunscreen from top to toe."

Martin helped Jonas by smearing his nape, ears, shoulders, and back with the sunscreen. When he reached the lad's firm buttocks, he kneaded them quite roughly and pushed his fingers into the crack, and tugged on the plug a couple of times.

"Good," he stated when Jonas responded with a low groan. "It's nice and secure in your arse. Good seal, too," he deemed and slapped one of the buttocks. "Now, don't try to pull it out, sissy. It doesn't come out until I'm ready to fuck you again, got that?"

"Y-yes, Martin."

"Good. We may yet make a proper sissy out of you, lad. Now hop to it, the grass is growing longer as we speak."

As Jonas walked to the shed, the plug trapped in his bum shifted with each step he took, it pushed and probed at different places inside of him. It felt positively strange and his body reacted with small jerks and lurches.

He found the same lawnmower that he had used before waiting for him in the shed, the one without an engine. He dragged it from the shed, his hands greasy with sunscreen slipping on the rubber handle. Already, he was sweating. The weather this morning was both sunny and warm, in direct contrast to Jonas's foul and depressive mood.

Why must I mow his lawn? he wondered, looking up at the cloudless sky, the sun already beating down on him, making him feel even warmer.

"Oh, fuck!" Jonas swore, loudly. The small airplane that he had heard earlier was much closer now, slowly turning. He thought he could see the pilot and realised that if he could see him, then the pilot could see Jonas, too. He abandoned the lawnmower where it sat, dashed back into the shed and shut the door.

Martin was sitting at his computer, toying with the design of another plug for Jonas's arse, when he noticed the lawnmower stood idle just a couple of metres from the shed. He maximized the window showing the live feed from the outdoor camera and watched it for a full minute. The boy was nowhere to be seen.

"That lazy no-good-for-nothing brat! He can't suck cock, he complains when I use his arse, and now he's trying to skip his chores? I've had it!" He pushed his chair away from the computer desk and got up. He walked to the door and looked out.

"Where are you, boy?" he asked, raising his voice. He knew it was safe to do so, his neighbours to the one side were at work and the other neighbour was an old woman short of hearing, who wouldn't accept she needed hearing aids.

Still, he thought it best not to call the lad by his proper name out in the open, even if his closest neighbours wouldn't hear, there was no telling who might be passing in the street.

He walked toward the lone lawnmower. Did he do a runner? he wondered. If so, the boy had more guts than he'd come to believe.

"Is it gone?" Jonas's voice came from inside the shed.

"Is what gone?" Martin asked and pulled open the door.

"The plane."

"You're skipping your chore because you're afraid some passengers on a plane might see you? Sheesh, even if they knew where to look and had binoculars they'd only see an ant-sized boy mowing the lawn. Only, you're not mowing the lawn, are you?"

"I meant to, I swear. I was just waiting for the plane to… It wasn't a passenger jet, it was a small one. It flew right over, or was going to, it was turning…"

"Well, it's gone now, isn't it? Get to it. If I find you lazing about somewhere again before you've mowed my grass, I'll renew those bruises on your arse. I don't care if they clear before your school starts or not."

"My bum hurts," Jonas said almost in a whisper. "Can't you take that… thing out?"

"Do you want me to fuck your arse again so soon?" Martin asked with a sinister smile on his face. He wasn't in the mood for sex so soon, yet he couldn't help but have a bit of fun on the lad's expense.

"What? No, please, not that again. Please, it hurts so much."

"You'll get used to it. Now, I told you the plug doesn't come out until my cock is about to go back in your hole."

"You want me to mow the whole garden with it inside of me?"

"Just the lawns, kid. Don't mow down my flowers!" With that said, Martin went back inside.

Jonas glanced at the lawnmower, it stood where he had left it and it seemed to be mocking him.

"What're you looking at, you stupid rusty piece of shit?" he muttered under his breath as he angrily took a step toward the mower. The plug shifted in his bum and he staggered forward, groaning with the unfamiliar feeling.

"You'll get used to it," he heard Martin's words replay in his mind. "Get used to it, my arse!" he said, loudly, before shifting back to silence. There's no getting used to having your stomach poked from within!

Because the grass had been allowed to grow longer, Jonas found the mower much less cooperative than the first time he had mown Martin's lawns. Back then, before he went to Crete, before most of all the bad things had happened to him, the grass had almost resembled that on a golf course. Now, it was ten cm [3"] long and full of small flowers.

At first Jonas struggled with the lawnmower; the long grass bogged down the revolving blades after they turned just a couple of times and this in turn blocked the wheels. He tried to clear the blockage by pulling the mower backward but the longer grass was tangled between the blades and the rest of the mower.

Oh, for fuck sakes. Why does he keep holding on to this old crap? He's got three high-tech 3D printers and a gazillion cameras, but no power mower?

Jonas crouched next to the mower, this made the artificial finger tips on the plug poke into new spots within him, for a brief moment this felt kind of good to him, but the feeling was soon replaced when his abdomen tightened up and tried to expel the large plug.

Urgh, he groaned, as he tugged on the grass caught in the mower, careful not to cut his fingers on the blades, trying to ignore the sensations from his butt.

Jonas tried again, this time, he started off in a trot on the tiled path leading from the shed to Martin's house, and brought the mower up to speed before he turned it onto the lawn.

"Hah!" he rejoiced, jubilantly, when the mower started cutting through the grass, leaving a narrow path in its wake. The trimmings were spat from the knives, hitting him in his face and on his bare chest, shoulders and arms, yet he didn't stop.

He thought he had finally mastered the lawnmower when suddenly the large plug in his bum hit a tender spot, making him miss a step, and caused the mower to grind to a new halt.

"He's not looking too amused," Martin told himself watching the spectacle taking place on the live feed from the outdoors camera. He couldn't hear what Jonas was saying, but maybe that was for the better.

Martin shook his head and focused on the design again.

Chapter Twenty-Four
Lunch break

Jonas had been telling the lawnmower how he wanted to throw it under a truck and how he wanted to set it on fire, and how it ought to end its days at the bottom of the ocean, and a large number of other things he'd do to it to demonstrate just how much he hated it. He'd fought with the mower for hours, mowing only short stretches of three to four metres [10-13'] at a time, though he had once managed to keep it going for more than ten metres [33'].

He was feeling very hot, the sun had been shining from a cloudless sky all the time he'd been pushing, cursing at and very nearly kicking the lawnmower. The sweat ran from his forehead into his eyes. His hands were sticky from sweat and the sunscreen, and he couldn't wipe them clean so that he could rub his eyes, so he could only blink at the sting.

He wasn't as badly covered in grass as he had been the first time, though. The longer grass clippings didn't fly quite as far as the small nips had which was the only consolation Jonas could find in all of this. I'd rather be covered in clippings, though, he thought. It might help keep me cool.

He was at the far end of the garden now, as far from the house as he'd ever get while naked, and he stopped when he reached the shade of the tall boarded fence that spanned the far end of his torturer's garden.

"Nearly done," he breathed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving behind a light-green sauce of grass juice, sweat and sunscreen, and some clippings. He swatted at a fly that circled his head as he leaned his shoulder up against the fence. I wonder what time it is.

His stomach rumbled and he presumed it had to be lunch. It might be later, I'm so hungry and thirsty. Oh, God, please let it be later.

He looked up but couldn't tell where the sun was from his place in the shade.

"Are we lazing about again?" he heard and looked in the direction of the house from where Martin was approaching. "Do you remember what I said would happen?"

"Please, it's so hot," Jonas replied. "I've only stood here for a minute or two."

"It is warm out today," Martin agreed. "You still have a bit to go, kid, but it'll have to wait until after lunch. Leave the mower and come with me."

Jonas followed Martin back to the shed. Here he watched the man unroll the garden hose and he had a flashback to when it had been pushed up against his bum hole and had filled him up with cold water. I kind of wish he'd do that now, Jonas thought, and as if Martin had heard his plea, the man turned on the water.

"I'm not letting you in the house like that. It looks as if you've rolled around on the lawn, you little filthy and sweaty… Cunt," Martin said. He let the water run for a little while longer then turned the hose on Jonas.

"Yeek!" Jonas squealed, the spray of water felt like thousands of needles poking at his skin, all at once. He began to jump up and down, and turned his back to the spray.

"Stand still, you little puppy." Martin laughed while he relentlessly kept the boy in the middle of the spray. "Turn this way, I need to rinse your front."

When eventually the water was shut off, Jonas's teeth were chattering. He shivered violently as he followed the man to the terrace, dripping water all the way there.

"Wait here," Martin instructed. "I'll get you a towel. Do not get too used to this, little bitch. Soon, you'll be the one fetching stuff for me."

Jonas's stomach gave off another lengthy painful growl. He was hungry and thirsty from having mowed Martin's grass. To add insult, the man had ordered Jonas to prepare a light lunch for him, but nothing for the boy.

He wouldn't even let me have a drink of water, he grumbled as he buttered the top half of a very large – and very tasty looking – bread roll. He placed it on a plate next to the bottom half, on which he had already spread a thin layer of butter. He wasn't used to this kind of domestic work and it had taken him some time to find the plate, the bread knife and a butter knife in the unfamiliar kitchen.

"Hurry the fuck up, I'm starving in here!" Martin said loudly, seated at the dining table, and Jonas's bum cheeks involuntarily tightened up firmer around the silicone replica of Jackie's hand that was still lodged inside of his butt, as he quickly slapped a slice of salami on top of each of the buttered halves.

His buttocks were still tightened up, when he turned to start the short walk over to the dining table and first noticed how Martin had positioned the chair he was sitting on. The man sat nearly sideways to the table, facing the wide doorway to the kitchen.

Immediately after he had registered the somewhat peculiar way the man was sitting at the table, Jonas noticed that he had unbuttoned all of the buttons on his shirt, which now hung open. The man wasn't exactly furry as a bear, still he had quite a bit of well-groomed chest hair; Jonas couldn't help but feel slightly envious of Martin having chest hair – his own chest was still quite hairless – as his eyes followed it downward.

He nearly dropped the halved bread roll, salami and all, from the plate when he saw how Martin had also unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans and sat with his large penis and balls exposed to the world. His penis wasn't completely erect yet it wasn't entirely flaccid either.

Oh my G, Jonas thought, when a large drop of nearly transparent fluid formed at the man's pee hole and started to seep downward, forming a long slimy string.

"Don't you dare drop those," Martin's coarse warning woke Jonas from his stupor and the boy quickly got the plate back under control. He tried to avert his eyes from the revolting sight of the man's precum leaking from his penis, but they kept darting back to the string that was slowly growing longer as the large drop made its way toward the floor.

"Where is the juice?" Martin demanded. "I remember quite clearly expressing my wish for a large glass of orange juice to go with my roll."

"Uh, buh," Jonas muttered while he quickly tried to come up with an excuse.

"Put that plate on the table and fetch me my juice, you worthless cunt," Martin ordered before Jonas's mind had managed to deal with anything other than the disgusting sight he was witness to. He had never seen anyone eat lunch with their private parts bared for everyone to see, and while Jonas was the only one in the house besides Martin, he still felt it was extremely odd.

Nevertheless, he hurried back to the kitchen, thankful for not having eyes in the back of his head, and thus no longer being able to see the exposed man. He quickly got the carton of orange juice from the fridge, his mouth salivating with the thought of opening it and drinking the sweet, cold liquid directly from the carton.

Jonas's mum kept their glasses in an overhead cupboard, so did his Aunt Megan, and so did Martin, too, he discovered when he opened the door to what he thought was the most likely cupboard, and saw the man's collection of glasses. He reached up and grabbed the largest glass he could see, a beer mug easily able to hold half a litre [1 pint] of fluid, and he quickly filled it with juice, nearly emptying the carton in the process.

Because there was so little juice left in the carton, Jonas left it on the counter and quickly brought the mug to Martin. The man had taken a large bite out of the top half of the roll and was chewing on it when the boy returned with the mug.

Jonas placed the mug next to the plate on the table, which he'd been clawing at during his attempt to avoid having the replica of little Jackie's hand stuck up his bottom.

His buttocks flinched again as Martin grabbed the mug and took a big drink from it.

"Very good," Martin said, replacing the mug for the bottom half of the roll and took another big bite out of it. "Simple, but tasty. It's all about the quality of the ingredients," he explained to Jonas who couldn't care less.

Still, Jonas had to swallow; his mouth was watering from the sight and smell of the food, although he didn't think that orange juice went well with a meal which included smoked salami.

Yet, he could only stand and watch Martin slowly eat the roll that he had prepared for the man, and envy how he drank from the large mug of orange juice that he had poured for him. And the transparent string of fluid hanging from the man's semi-erect penis was growing ever longer, he noticed as he swallowed yet another mouthful of saliva.

"Remember this, sissy. Never eat too much just before you have sex. It'll make you drowsy and the sex will feel more like a chore than pleasure. Well, I can't say if that's true for a little cunt like you; so far you've done nothing but take it. Perhaps I should make you work harder for my sperm."

Does he think I want his sperm? Jonas considered telling Martin that he didn't want the man's sperm, that he didn't want to be a sissy, and that he certainly didn't want to be Martin's slave. I only want him to remove that metal tube around my penis and that awful… Thing he stuck up my bum. But, he'd tried to tell Martin stuff like this before and that hadn't done any good.

"Are you thirsty?" Martin asked.

Jonas nodded, unable to hide his eagerness to quench his thirst with something cold entering his mouth. I'd even eat one of those rolls with salami and drink OJ with it, he told himself, just before Martin spoke again.

"Then get on your knees and lick my cock, bitch," the man said, his voice ice cold. "I won't help you this time, you'll have to suck the sperm from my balls, yourself. If you manage to make my orgasm feel good enough I'll let you fill this glass with fresh water after you've swallowed all of my sperm.

"However, if you take too long or don't do it well enough, I'll fill the glass up with my piss. Regardless, you will drink every last drop of what's in the glass before you go back to mowing my grass. Understood?"

Jonas furrowed his brows and wrinkled his nose; his one and only experience that had involved drinking piss was when Martin had forced him to drink from a glass that was less than half the size of the mug that the man now took another drink of juice from.

And that was my own, Jonas remembered. It was still horrid, though, and he was certain Martin's piss could only taste so much worse than his.

He didn't think it was much better having to suck on Martin's cock and make the man cum from it. However, he didn't have any choice, this much he did understand. Still, he felt like crying when he nodded.

"Yes," he confirmed, subdued, feeling even more miserable.

"Good. Why don't you get started, then?"

"W-what?"

"Get on your knees, bitch," Martin repeated. "Wrap your lips around my cock and get to work."

"You want me to…? Now? While you eat?"

"Why not? Do you have anything better to do? Look at you! You're just standing there looking like a sad little puppy."

Jonas could come up with a great number of things he'd rather do, but he felt certain that Martin wasn't interested in any of that. He just wants me to suck on his big penis so he can squirt out more of his awful sperm and make me eat it. He sank down to his knees.

"That's it, baby. Come to papa," Martin cooed, spreading his knees wider.

Jonas didn't want to degrade himself any further by crawling and decided to shuffle the short distance upright on his knees. He clumsily wrapped his fingers around Martin's sweaty penis, trying to avoid the string of precum as if it were poisonous. The piece of flesh grew firmer in his hand.

"Suck it," Martin ordered, instantly. "Take your fucking hand off my cock, I want to feel your mouth on it, nothing else. What are you waiting for? You're making me think that you don't want any water; that you're really itching for my piss."

"Oh, no!" Jonas couldn't prolong the wait any more, he moved his mouth closer and shut his eyes when he felt the slimy string of precum touch his lower lip. Immediately the salty liquid mixed with his saliva and he nearly gagged with the taste; his instincts told him to pull his head back and spit, instead he forced himself to move his head closer to the man's midriff and opened his mouth wider, gaping over the head of the man's cock.

"Fuck, you're acting like a nun who's never handled a proper cock before," Martin snarled and placed his hand on the back of Jonas's head.

"It goes in here," he instructed and pulled hard, forcing half of his cock into the boy's mouth before letting go. "Now, use your mouth on it, in and out, you should know how that works by now. Deep as you can, surely you can manage more than half of my little cock without my help."

Jonas wasn't paying attention to the berating words, if he had, he would've balked at the verb Martin had used to describe his penis; to the boy it was anything but little. The size of it seemed quite substantial, particularly now that it was flattening his tongue and putting his gag reflex under serious stress. His tears were flowing freely now, as he tried to keep from vomiting.

Jonas felt the sting from a slap to the back of his head and moved his eyes upward, focusing on the man's face, silently pleading for mercy.

Martin ignored the boy's tears and the sounds from his heaving.

"I told you to go deeper, bitch! Hell, I might as well just let go and piss now… Is that what you're hoping for? Well, you won't get off that easily. Let my cock slide into your throat, sissy," he insisted.

Now that Martin had Jonas's attention, he kept his hands well away from the boy's head. He wanted the boy to do all of the work, he wanted him to gag on his cock unassisted and wondered if the boy would be able to do so.

He's so different from my other subs, the man marvelled. His defiance is for real, not faked. He's not just trying to make me discipline him, no, he clearly hates it all. He hates me! The realisation was nearly enough to make Martin cum; he shuddered with pleasure and just then he felt Jonas move forward and take in more of his cock. The sensation made him groan.

Urghh, Jonas groaned too, inwardly. Although he had forced himself to take in more of Martin's expanding penis, he wasn't making much progress; the single extra centimetre was however wreaking havoc at the far back of his mouth. He tried to gauge the remaining length, deemed that about half of the fat stem was still waiting to be swallowed, and he wondered how he was supposed to accomplish that.

He felt sick already, he was on the brink of throwing up. Swallowing helped, somewhat, and he managed another centimetre. The problem was that as soon as he had swallowed some of his saliva, the large penis would touch the soft parts of his mouth yet again, triggering a new heave. He couldn't swallow fast enough, nor for long enough, to completely avoid the sickening feeling of being choked by something clearly not meant to be swallowed whole.

Still, this was exactly what Jonas had to do, lest he'd be forced to quench his thirst in the man's vile piss, or something even more dreadful than that.

He managed another small bit of the bone-hard penis; it throbbed in his mouth, touching his soft palate, this time triggering a violent cough. He had no choice but to back off so he could cough up a big glop of very thick saliva.

He forced it back down with a mighty swallow, timing it almost perfectly; the glans of the man's penis bumped into the far back of his mouth, where it was denied access to his throat from the position of his head.

Martin ignored the rest of his lunch. Contrary to what he had planned, the boy's effort was proving much harder to ignore than he had imagined; he couldn't eat and drink while Jonas was rousing sensations he had scarcely felt since when he was a boy, himself.

His cock wasn't all the way inside the boy's mouth and throat, but he barely noticed, revelling in the glorious feelings.

I'm going to cum! The comprehension struck him with profound astonishment, he had not thought it possible that he would cum this quickly. Yet, almost before he had completed the thought, his orgasm started with no time to stop it.

Martin gave off a throaty groan as the first rope of his sperm shot into the back of Jonas's mouth, catching the boy unawares, too. He had no option but to swallow the tangy saltiness that was rapidly filling the back of his mouth with each volley from the man's penis. One forceful swallow was not enough; it took five, all in all, before the sperm finally stopped trying to flood his mouth.

It left Jonas with a sour taste. He'd been very close to vomiting and he could taste the sharp bitterness from his bile, as well as the aftertaste of sperm; although he didn't think the flavour of sperm was anywhere near as bad as bile. Jonas was never going to admit this to anyone, not even to himself. He certainly was never going to grow to crave the taste, as Martin had suggested once or twice that he would.

He was thirsty, though, and hoped he had done well enough. I made him do it real quick, he thought, somewhat pleased for not having to stay on his knees in front of the man for much longer. It made him feel humiliated.

He hoped he had done enough to warrant the mug of tap water that was promised; he was dying for even the smallest of sips, just enough to be able to rinse out his mouth, although he certainly wouldn't mind it if the mug was filled to the brim. I'll happily fill it myself, he decided.

He looked up, meeting the piercing stare of the man. It seemed ominous, that glare, and the way the corners of Martin's mouth drew upward, ever so slightly. Jonas's spirit rapidly plunged, leaving a hollow, empty feeling at the top of his chest.

"You just couldn't find it in you to let me enjoy it for even a short while," Martin said, softly, his words belying the smirk on his face.

Jonas thought the man's tone of voice made him sound disappointed, still, he knew what those words and that smirk meant even before Martin told him.

"You'd better let go of my cock, bitch, unless you want your reward straight from the source."

Jonas broke eye contact and let his jaw fall slack, breaking the vacuum that his lips and cheeks had maintained just below the man's fat penis head. He slowly sat back, his head still held low, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I thought," he started, quietly.

"What?" Martin sneered. "I don't want you to think while you blow me, idiot child. You should only concentrate on my pleasure when you have my cock in your throat." Martin shook his head. "Only, you never did let my cock enter your throat. Am I right, sissy?"

Jonas could only nod. He felt absolutely mortified. Why didn't I do that? Why couldn't I…? I should have…

"Useless bitch," Martin said, stopping Jonas from considering what he ought to have done instead of what he'd done. The boy saw the shadows play on the carpeted floor as Martin reached for the mug; he heard the man drink the last bit of orange juice, and then the bottom of the mug entered his field of view.

"Well? Hold it for me. You can do that, right?" Martin asked.

Jonas's tears were flowing freely now as he moved his hands up and wrapped them around the bottom part of the mug; the thick glass was cold from the juice it had held.

"Hold it steady!" Suddenly, Martin's order was followed up with a short burst of liquid squirting noisily into the mug. Another squirt and a stream was established, rapidly filling the mug with liquid that looked much like apple juice.

The warmth from Martin's piss spread to the glass mug and Jonas could tell the progress from the change in temperature, already the mug was one quarter full and the stream still going strong.

"Please," he begged, his voice quivering, "Stop."

"Be quiet!"

"No, please. I can't…"

"You can and you will. Shut up, I won't have you ruin this moment, too," Martin said and sighed. "Fuck, I've had to go for the last hour, at the least."

The level reached the halfway mark and Jonas gulped as he watched the stream dwindle a couple of times only to pick up again.

Only when three quarters of the large beer mug had been filled with Martin's piss did the man's bladder run dry and the stream stopped.

Jonas knelt with the mug, holding it with both of his hands, while trying to keep his head well clear of it. The liquid, although resembling apple juice in appearance, smelled absolutely nothing like it.

"Drink," Martin ordered. "You don't have to pretend to enjoy it, I don't give a shit whether you do or not. Just drink it, when you've finished, you'll go back to mowing my lawn."

I'll never have a drink of apple juice again, Jonas pledged as he prepared to drink from the mug. Even so, he tried to convince himself that it was apple juice in the mug; sweet and cold juice, just what he needed on this very warm day after mowing Martin's vast lawn with a manual lawnmower.

All pretence died, however, when he brought the mug closer to his mouth and his nose picked up the acrid smell from the man's piss. It made him screw up his face and he took a small sip of the warm, slightly foamy liquid.

He nearly spat it straight out again but managed to force it down with a strangled swallow. "Please," he tried begging again, though he knew it was in vain.

"No," Martin said, cutting off the boy's pleading. "Drink. If you haven't finished that mug in one minute I'll whip your arse bloody."

Jonas winced with the thought of going to school with welts on his butt cheeks. Everyone will see. My classmates, the teacher, Noah… He knew that it wouldn't stop there; someone was bound to ask why he'd been thrashed and by whom. What would I tell them?

He had no doubt that Martin would beat him, this had happened once before, when he'd defied him.

Drinking a mugful of steaming piss is disgusting, but it won't kill me, Jonas decided, and it didn't, although the next little sip made him gag and start to wonder if it wasn't better to suffer through a beating rather than make himself sick.

He took another sip, larger than the first two, and forced it down. He was feeling queasy; his stomach gurgled with the unfamiliar fluid that he kept forcing into it. He tried to think of something else, anything to distract himself from considering what he was drinking.

Jonas tried to take another sip from the mug, but found it was empty at long last. He had no idea of how long it had taken him to empty the mug and he was afraid to look up and make eye contact with Martin. Eventually he did, though.

"Put the plate and mug in the dishwasher, bitch boy," Martin said. "The lawn is waiting for you. Oh, I don't want you to try to drink or rinse your mouth out before you get home, and don't you go spitting all over my garden, either. That would make me most unhappy."

Mowing the rest of the lawn took about twenty minutes, by which time Jonas was more than ready to leave Martin's house and find the closest source of water. His saliva was thick from his exertion and the aftertaste of piss in his mouth was strong; his stomach was still churning, though not as badly as when he had first resumed mowing the lawn.

I'll live through this, he thought, not jubilantly. He knew that he was in for more misery at the hands of Martin. He just hoped that he would be allowed to go home without suffering any more that day as he wheeled the mower back into the shed.

"One last thing," Martin said after having inspected Jonas's work, "And I'll let you off."

"What?" Jonas asked, gruffly. He was tired and the inspection had taken the better part of ten minutes.

"You have to ask me to spit in your mouth," Martin said, matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"Really?" Martin asked. "Are you sure you want to go there?"

Jonas groaned. "Spit in my mouth," he said, his voice but a whisper.

"You have to do better than that, sissy."

"Please!" Jonas uttered with desperation, and swallowed before he asked again. "Martin, will you please spit in my mouth?"

"If you insist," Martin replied and leaned in over Jonas. "Face up and open."

Jonas screwed his eyes shut, tilted his head back and opened his mouth.

"Open your eyes, bitch, and look at me."

When Jonas opened his eyes, Martin carefully dribbled the saliva he had been amassing into the boy's upturned mouth. The string of saliva broke, still Jonas stood with his mouth open, unblinking.

"Swallow," Martin instructed. "Idiot child," he added almost endearingly.

He watched the boy swallow; the look in his eyes an equal measure of barely contained hatred and hopelessness.

"Go put on your clothes, fag. Come back here tomorrow at noon."

Chapter Twenty-Five
Bargaining

Susan was astonished when Jonas didn't object to her coming for his electronics on that Tuesday night but instead lay under the duvet in his bed with the lights out.

She checked the time on her son's clock radio, thinking she might have mistaken the time, but the red numbers read 21:29 [9:29 PM], almost exactly half an hour before that night's bed time.

Peter won't believe me when I tell him, she thought as she quietly backed out of Jonas's bedroom and silently closed the door. She had never once experienced Jonas being in bed and asleep before time.

"Mum?" she heard just when the door was about to shut.

"Yes, Jonas? I thought you were sleeping," she said as she reopened the door.

Jonas remained under the covers, he didn't want his mother to see that he'd been crying. He had laid in bed since shortly after dinner and pondered everything Martin had done to him.

"I want my room repainted," he said, having reached the conclusion that he was no longer a child.

His parents had surprised him back when he had turned eleven, and even though the first part of the surprise hadn't been welcomed by him at all – he'd been forced to spend an entire weekend at his Aunt Megan's house – he had been overjoyed when he saw what they'd done to his room when he returned late Sunday evening.

Jonas absolutely loved everything about space and his walls were covered with outer-space wallpaper and although it was quite cartoonish – and, in retrospect, terribly childish – Jonas had liked it a lot. He also approved of his new wall-to-wall carpet, it bore a much more realistic motive from deep space with hundreds of stars and a large nebula on it; much better than the silly wallpaper with sharks, dragons and some other animals that he first had thought were bears, but which Noah had pointed out were really sloths, all of which wore fish-bowl-resembling space helmets.

But, now that Martin's actions toward him had made him feel that he was no longer a child, he felt that his room just wasn't suitable any longer.

"What?" Susan asked, opening the door fully and turning on the ceiling lights. "Why?"

"It's a child's room," Jonas said, still hiding under his covers.

"Yes," Susan agreed. "Of course it is. It's your room."

"But, I'm not a child anymore."

"What?" Susan asked and thought for a second. "If this is something that Martin kid told you, then you can tell him that the both of you are children and you'll remain so until you turn eighteen."

"Huh?" Jonas sat up in bed and looked at his mum. "Wait, Martin's not…" he started, then remembered the cover story Martin had invented. For all his parents knew, Martin was a boy, a new friend of his. He fell quiet while he pondered what he should say.

"It doesn't matter anyway, we're not redecorating your room any time soon. We worked night and day, your dad and me, to make it look like space exactly like you had pleaded with us for months to…"

Help, Jonas thought, but he couldn't get the single word across his lips; he was certain the consequences would be catastrophic if he said it out loud.

"Oh, Jonas," Susan said, interrupting her chastening when she saw the sad look on his face. "Sometimes I wish you'd never met that boy. You've changed. Why don't you play some more with Noah?" She didn't add that she thought Noah would be much better for him. He'll have to work that out for himself.

Jonas agreed with his mum, he too wished that he had never met Martin. He'd sooner go play with Noah than go back to that sadistic man's house. Oh, now, wait a minute…!

"Mum! I don't play with Noah," he said with a great sense of indignity. "We hang out!"

"Whatever you do with him, you should do it more often," Susan said and picked up Jonas's phone and laptop from his desk. "Sleep well."

"'Night," Jonas answered and let himself fall backwards onto his pillow. He felt slightly better when his mum switched off the lights and shut the door; his room became semi-dark again and the childish motives on his walls weren't so noticeable.

He still had to return to Martin's house the next day, but perhaps his mum was right. Maybe I am a kid still. Maybe Martin just needs to be told. He pondered this for a while, lying on his back with his hands tucked under his head.

Jonas awoke to the beeping from his clock radio and he reached up and gave it a swat, instantly muting the annoying noise. His mouth opened in a massive yawn as he stretched his arms and legs as much as he could while lying in bed.

It was 8 o'clock which he thought was much too early to get up. Once the holidays were over and school recommenced, he'd have to get used to getting out of bed at 7, but that was still more than a week away.

He tried to count the days until the dreaded Monday when school would restart, quickly giving up when he found it was much too early in the morning to do arithmetic. Instead, he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

Finally, after five more minutes of lounging in his bed, Jonas got up. His bladder drove him across the hall to the bathroom where he spent the next few minutes contemplating what the day would bring while he slowly drained the water from the potatoes sitting on the loo.

There are three hours until the bus leaves, he figured, his brain having finally picked up enough speed to perform simple maths. Eating breakfast took him ten minutes, leaving enough time to die from boredom unless he found something to do.

Browsing the internet on his laptop took him onto YouTube where he found nothing of interest, then to Instagram, with the same result, and those were all of the social media sites he could access from his computer.

He longed to visit TikTok but Martin had removed that app from his phone – along with all of the other apps that Jonas found interesting – and the man had also purged all of Jonas's friends from Snapchat, leaving that app as good as unusable to him.

Jonas sighed as he sat there at the kitchen table, the bowl, with the remnants of his Cornflakes with milk and sugar, pushed aside to make space for his laptop. He took a sip from his glass of orange juice and shuddered with the unwelcomed recollection of Martin drinking OJ and eating salami-covered rolls with his large penis hanging out.

Before he thought past that experience to when he had been forced to drink from that same glass by Martin, Jonas clicked on his bookmark for thingiverse.com.

He managed not to think about the man, becoming fully engrossed with the many models, taking in the details of each one in the previews offered and trying to imagine how they'd look printed and sitting on one of his shelves in his room.

One model left him breathless. It was of the Xenomorph from the Alien movies. Though he had never watched any of the movies, he was beguiled by the sheer evilness that radiated from the model of the alien.

Bigger than any of his current models, this alien would be the masterpiece of his collection. Meant to hang on the wall, it looked like it was coming right out of the wall to take a bite out of you with its particularly nasty looking mouth full of teeth.

I want that, Jonas thought, imagining his mum's reaction to seeing the alien. He was sure she'd scream from it and just hoped to be home at the moment she'd do that.

But, he had no printer to print the model on. Even if he had had access to his dad's printer, the model was more than twice as big as the 30x30x25 cm [12x12x10"] limit that that printer could print.

Jonas took note of the model's dimensions and found it didn't just exceed his dad's printer's limits by double, but was almost triple the height of what it could print.

The only person that he knew who owned a printer that might be large enough to do the job was someone he couldn't ask if he'd want to print it for him. He couldn't imagine Martin wanting to do anything nice for anyone, least of all him.

Nevertheless, the thought of hanging that nasty alien on his wall, and Noah turning green with envy from seeing it, and his mum being frightened by it, lingered in his mind as he showered and brushed his teeth, and prepared to leave for his tormentor's house.

He was still dreaming of owning the wall-mounted alien as he boarded the bus and almost missed his stop half an hour later.

"That was close," he muttered to himself as he waited for the bus to pull away so he could cross the street safely.

He walked up Martin's street and entered the man's house without anyone seeing him. He started to strip, then suddenly froze with his sweatshirt pulled halfway off.

I'm not doing this anymore, he thought, defiantly, and put his shirt back on before he walked over to stand behind his chair, arms folded in front of his chest.

"What's this?" Martin asked as he strode out from his hobby room and saw the fully dressed boy standing at the table.

"I'm not doing this anymore," Jonas said, biting off the words. "I'm a kid, not a grown-up."

"Oho," Martin half-laughed as he walked closer to the resolute lad. "Is that so?"

"I'm a kid until I'm eighteen," Jonas asserted. "BSDM is for grown-ups."

Martin placed his hands on the lad's rump and felt how he tensed his buttocks.

"Okay," he agreed. "So, I guess that means you want me to cut you some slack? You want me to go easy on you, is that it, kiddo?"

Jonas was so shocked he didn't know quite what to say. "Yes," he said, still clenching his buttocks and trying to ignore the man's groping hands. "That's it."

"Well…" Martin took a breath while he considered the request. "Alright."

"You mean it?" Jonas asked, incredulously twisting his back and head to look up behind him at the man's face.

"Let's discuss this first. From your point of view, what would a suitable disciplinary action be like, if you're a kid? Say, if I tell you to do something and you don't do it?"

"Uh… I don't know." Jonas had never considered something like this before. Being sent to his room was what his parents usually did, but he didn't have a room at Martin's house that the man could banish him to; a fact that Jonas was extremely happy for. "You could tell me off?" he suggested, uncertainly.

"I could," Martin granted. "But somehow I feel that wouldn't work very well. No, it would have to be something worse than that."

"You can't hit me," Jonas blurted. "You can't hit kids."

"No? Pity. But it must be something you don't like… You didn't seem to enjoy drinking my piss yesterday?"

"Oh, please, no. Not that. I nearly barfed."

"We'll save that for when you truly piss me off, then," Martin found it amusing to discuss punishments with Jonas. "I'll let you drink your own piss as punishment for minor incidents…"

Jonas groaned at this. It's better than being smacked, he reminded himself, trying to look on the bright side of things.

"Well," Martin continued. "If you want me to treat you like a kid, then I guess you won't be asking me to let your little cock out any time soon? Kids don't know about orgasms, after all."

"But…"

"Oh, there's no arguing about it. If you want me to go easier on you, this," Martin grabbed the chastity device through Jonas's shorts, "stay's on. It only comes off for your gym classes."

"You won't let me play with it? Ever?" Jonas's voice raised half a note on the last word.

"That's right. I won't," Martin said curtly. "Well, perhaps if you do exceptionally well, then it can come off while you mind the little shit. I'll have to consider that."

"When Jackie's here? You want me to play with myself around your nephew?" Jonas wondered aloud.

"No," Martin said and Jonas managed to feel relieved for a second, then the man continued. "I want Jackie to play with it for you. You won't cum unless he gets you off."

"What?"

"Oh you heard me, kid. And, just so we're clear. You're still a little sissy and I'm going to make use of your little tight arse and your pretty little mouth. And I'll still tie you up if I feel like it. By the way, kiddo, it's called BDSM, not BSDM."

"I know that," Jonas said. He wasn't happy with being reminded of his position, but he decided to let it slide; he had something he wanted to say before he lost his newly discovered bout of courage. Besides, he hadn't dared hope that Martin would stop doing any of those things to him, even though he hated being used by the man in that manner.

"There's something else," Jonas said, his voice quavering and his heart racing. Don't back off now, he told himself. Don't you dare…! "We agreed that I could print two models on the sissy printer I put together…"

"You haven't paid off your debt for the first one, yet."

"Eh, no, but…"

"Okay, show me what it is you want to print," Martin relented. "After you remove your clothes. You'll never leave that doormat without undressing first, ever again, or I will make you regret it, boy. Kid or not, I'm still in charge and don't you forget that."

Martin gave Jonas's butt a hard whack with his open hand.

Jonas gulped. "I won't." He reached back and rubbed his bum; the smack hurt, even though he was wearing both shorts and underwear.

"What the hell is this?" Martin wondered when his internet browser had finished loading the model of the Xenomorph that Jonas wanted to print. "I didn't take you for a fan of Alien… Have you even seen the movies?"

"Movies? There are movies with this?" Jonas asked, not believing his ears. He stood naked next to the man sitting in front of his computer, with nothing to defend his dignity but the little shiny silvery chastity device holding his penis prisoner.

"Sure, there's the original trilogy and one or two spin-offs. You should watch them, some day."

"Eh, nah, I don't think so. I don't like horror movies."

"It's more science fiction, though I suppose small kids like you might wet themselves if they watched these movies. They are pretty scary, but really, they are very well made, for the period."

"I'm not a small kid," Jonas pointed out.

"Trust me, you are tiny where it counts, sissy," Martin assured. "So, what do we do with this bad boy, sorry, this bad girl… You do know it's a female alien, right?"

"I don't know anything about it other than it looks bloody scary."

"And still you want it?"

"Oh, yes! It's really cool."

"Have you seen how big it is? It's about the size of your head, if not bigger than that."

"I know. We can scale it down, I guess…" Jonas suggested, quietly and feeling somewhat disappointed; he truly wanted it to be printed as its original size, if not even bigger.

"It would lose some of its scariness if it were smaller, though, and that would be a damn shame," Martin observed. "That wouldn't do it justice. I'm a fan of the movies, you know? But, printing it as it is will require quite a lot of filament, you know."

"I'll pay for it," Jonas offered.

"Oh, you would?" Martin asked. "How?"

"I'll give you my allowance, eh, most of… some of it, every week, until…"

"Thanks for the offer, kid, only that would take forever, unless your parents give you an incredible amount of pocket money. I'll have to pass on that."

"Oh… Eh… Then, ah…"

"Stop worrying. We'll print it and I'll think of some way you can pay for it that won't take weeks or months."

"Really?"

"Yes," Martin acknowledged, then fell quiet for a few moments while he considered what price he wanted. He made a decision. "You'll only have to spend one night here," he told Jonas. "Sometime soon. Preferably before school starts again."

"Oh…" Jonas was feeling very disappointed. "I can't. Mum will never let me," he said and explained why. "So, my bedtime is five minutes earlier every day," he ended. "And she's strict about it, no exceptions."

"I see." Martin stroked his chin. What a control freak that bitch is, he thought, thinking of Jonas's mum. "Right, well, if you want that model, I'll handle your mother and you'll spend Friday night here.

"During your sleepover, you'll do exactly as I tell you, without your usual whining or hesitation. If not, I'll punish you, any way I see fit. Agreed?"

"What will you do to me?" Jonas asked, wondering if the model was worth the price the man demanded. He felt almost certain that it was, he just wanted some kind of reassurance.

"I won't do much to you, really," Martin said. "Nothing we haven't already done or close to it, anyway."

"You'll remember I'm still a kid? You won't beat me up, like you did when you…"

"Yes, yes, Jonas. I'll go easier on you than I did back then… Remember, if you behave for just one short night, you'll have that super scary alien. Tell you what, if you do well, I'll even consider your debt for the first model paid in full as well."

"So no nettles or that birch thing?" Jonas asked.

"No, I won't whip your bare arse with nettles or…"

"Ooh, that's what you meant to do," Jonas exclaimed, fearfully.

"You didn't know what I meant to do, and you still said yes? Anyway, if you'd rather take that, then we can do that instead of you spending the night? Naturally, I'll have to think of something else for the alien…"

"Oh, no, no. I'd rather sleep here for a night… Eh, you won't keep me up all night long?"

"No, of course not," Martin said. Not all night, he thought. "I'm not senile, you're a kid and kids need their sleep. I do remember that."

"Deal."

"I want it in writing," Martin insisted. "I'll write down our agreement, then we'll both sign it, so there'll be no backing out of it. Understand?"

"Yeah, it'll be like a contract."

"Exactly."

"Okay," Jonas said and smiled. He was going to whip my bum with nettles and I didn't even know he was going to do that, but now he won't and I'll have that cool nasty looking alien to scare my mum with. Oh, she'll piss her knickers… And all I gotta do is spend the night here. It'll be just like spending the night at Aunt Megan's house, that sucks too, but it'll only be for one night.

"Wait, how're we going to print it?" Jonas wondered. "It won't fit in your sissy printer."

"No. We'll have to print it using one of the bad boys. Lucky for you, I'm not printing anything right now. Right, go pour me something cold to drink so I can gather my thoughts before I write the contract. After we've both signed it, we can prepare the model for printing."

Jonas returned with a glass of orange juice for Martin and the man had a sip from it before he began to type. Jonas watched over his shoulder and tried to read the words as they were typed.

The boy couldn't read as quickly as Martin could type, though, and the man didn't use everyday language, but used a quasi-legal language that he hoped would impress the kid.

Jonas was impressed, though not quite enough to be swept off his feet.

"You want me to bring it back?" he asked when he read how he was supposed to return the model of the alien if he went back on his word and defied Martin in the future.

"Of course," Martin answered and continued to type.

"And you still get to punish me?" Jonas thought that having to return the model was a very harsh punishment by itself, surely enough that he shouldn't have to suffer anything more than that.

"I do. That's what we agreed on, isn't it? That I can punish you as I see fit if you misbehave?"

"Eh, I guess, but I didn't think you'd want me to return the alien, too."

"You won't have to do that, if only you'll listen to every word I tell you that night."

"You promised that you won't keep me up all night."

"That's right," Martin confirmed and typed that in the Word document. "Good enough for you?" he asked after he finished the paragraph.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good."

"Eh, you also said you'll go easy on me…"

"I told you I'd go easier on you. Hang in there." The man typed the sixth paragraph and looked at Jonas. "Satisfied?"

"Wait," Jonas breathed as he read aloud the words on the screen. "…'keep Jonas's age in mind during any and all activities'… What activities?"

"A little bit of this and some of that. What do you think it means?"

"Sex stuff?" Jonas asked.

"Maybe."

"You won't tell me?"

"And spoil the surprise? I think not."

Jonas rubbed his buttock, he could still feel the smack from earlier and wondered if it would leave a bruise. "Remember," he reminded Martin. "I'm going back to school next Monday. I don't want to have bruises on my body…"

"I'm not stupid, kid," Martin asserted and typed one more paragraph. "See?"

Jonas read it, found it acceptable and told Martin so.

"Good. Oh, almost forgot something," Martin said and started to type out one final paragraph at amazing speed; he kept silent until he had finished typing. "There! I'll print this and we'll sign it. Then we both have to do our very best to live up to this contract. If you don't, you won't have a model and I get to punish you."

Jonas nodded. "I know." He wasn't truly happy with what he was agreeing to do to get his hands on the biggest and scariest 3D model he'd ever laid his eyes on, but he felt that it was worth it.

It'll scare Mum shitless and Noah will turn green from envy… Yeah, that'll be well worth it.

"Alright," Martin said and clicked the print button. "No turning back now," he stated when the single sheet of paper started to come out of the printer.

Chapter Twenty-Six
Going back downstairs

Martin placed the sheet of paper in front of Jonas and handed him a ballpoint pen. "Here, you read that and then sign it," he told the boy.

When he saw how painfully slow a reader Jonas was, Martin decided to read the contract out loud for the boy as he followed reading the words on the paper.

"Is number eight really necessary?" Jonas asked, referring to the last minute addition Martin had added. "I won't tell anyone, I'm not dumb even if I can't read very fast."

"I hope you won't, but just in case…" Martin answered. "Either way, take it or leave it. If you don't sign, you don't get your alien and you'll get your bum whipped with nettles."

Jonas signed the paper with his first name then watched Martin do the same.

"It's kind of harsh," Jonas commented when he saw the man fold the piece of paper and place it in his desk drawer. "You promised you'd never do anything to me that would leave permanent marks."

"And I never would, ordinarily. However, I'm going to if I ever find out that you've been babbling about what happens when you're here and especially during this sleepover."

"If I get to sleep over," Jonas said, still not convinced his mum would ever let him and he wasn't feeling very enthusiastic about spending a full night at Martin's house any more. It's what I have to do to get the alien, though…

"Oh, you'll spend the night," Martin assured him.

"You don't know my mum. She's…"

"Stop worrying. I'll persuade her, I know what to tell her. I've spoken to her before, that's why she's letting you come here, remember?"

"Yeah, but that's different."

"I'm confident. Let's load up the model and make sure there isn't anything wrong with it. When all checks out, we'll start the printer and then we can go downstairs."

"Downstairs?" Jonas asked, a chill going down his back. "To the ba-basement?"

"Yes," Martin said, matter-of-factly.

"But why? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"No? What about the stunt you pulled? Refusing to undress before I'd promise to treat you more like a kid… It doesn't matter whether you've done wrong or not, I'm itching to fuck your tight arse again."

"Today? But… That wasn't on the paper, it wasn't in the contract!" Jonas argued, querulously.

"Surely your attention span must be longer than this, kid," Martin said, irritatedly. "I told you I'd still be making good use of your two holes; the contract for the sleepover has nothing to do with that."

"But, I don't want to…"

"Would you rather I'd post a couple of your pictures on the dark web? I'm sure I can find a website that would welcome them with open arms. Might even be someone who wants to buy more…"

Though Jonas had never heard of the dark web, he did know what a website was and he didn't want any of the pictures Martin had taken of him posted anywhere.

He couldn't imagine anyone being interested in seeing any of the pictures of him in those terribly humiliating and dreadful situations, or why someone would ever want to pay for them; the thought that anyone might be turned on by seeing him naked was nearly as alien to him as the model they were about to print. It scarcely mattered, though.

Nobody can see those pictures! Jonas decided. Even if it means… He gulped. "You can't smack me," he blurted, hoping he'd at least be spared from that hurtful humiliation.

"What?"

"Before you do that, before you fu-fuck my bum… You can't smack me first."

"Why would I want to do that? Okay, you have defied me some today…"

"You smacked my bum the first time you did that to me."

"The two don't always go hand in hand, kiddo. I can fuck your arse without spanking it first and I could spank it without fucking it afterward," Martin explained. Not very likely I'd be able to spank him and not follow it with a good fuck, though, Martin told himself. "Anyway, do you want that alien or not?"

"Yes!" Jonas exclaimed. I've come this far, I'm not…

"Well, then. Keep your eyes on the price and suck it up."

"I'm not going to suck on it, too."

Now, Martin had about had enough. "I'll be the one to decide that, sissy," he said, coldly and with a gesture that Jonas understood meant the end of the discussion. "Don't make me regret agreeing to print this model for you already."

"Okay, okay," Jonas conceded, not wanting to risk losing the model before it was even printed. "You don't need to get all mean over it."

"Let's see," Martin said, turning to face his monitor and changing focus. "Do you know what I'll be doing now?" The man loaded a programme and rotated a model of the alien on the screen.

"No." Jonas had never studied anything he wanted to print with the same level of passion that Martin was radiating now; the man was zooming in and out on various parts of the model, fully engrossed with what he saw on screen.

"No? I'm making sure the mesh – you might call that the skin of the alien, or the surface – is uniform and smooth, so it'll print correctly. With a job like this, that'll be running for at least a couple of days before it completes, you shouldn't ever skip inspecting the model before starting it, or you might find that it craps out on you partway through."

"Is that like when it makes spaghetti?" Jonas wondered.

"Exactly."

"I thought that was because I forgot the supports?"

"It can happen for lots of reasons, which is why you should always load the model and look at the mesh. This actually looks rather good."

"I know, right? It's super scary."

"I meant the way it's made. I think we should print it in four or five pieces, there'd be no need for supports so it would look neater, and we can make it even bigger."

"Really?"

"Yes. So, you'd better be a very good little sissy for me."

Jonas frowned. As pleasant and interesting as Martin was while discussing 3D printing and other technical subjects, the man could be equally as cruel and arrogant in most other circumstances and the boy never knew when the man's mood would shift.

He wasn't sure what to say, he didn't want to be a sissy – good or otherwise – yet he wanted the model more than anything at that point in time, it was right there on the screen, enticing him.

"Are you going to make it bigger?" Jonas asked, hoping to get the conversation back within his comfort zone. "Seriously?"

"Are you going to be a good sissy?" Martin countered, teasingly.

"Uh," Jonas muttered. "How?" he asked; although the alien was very enticing, he wasn't willing to commit himself fully to the unknown.

"We-ell…" Martin prolonged the word. "You could pull your arse cheeks apart, you know, when you're on the bed waiting for my big cock to enter you."

Jonas's jaw fell slack and he instinctively clenched his buttocks, making Martin chuckle.

"You'd better not be doing that when I'm about to fuck you," the man advised. "I'll ram my big cock up inside of you so hard it might rip your sphincter. I don't think that would heal in time for school."

"I won't," Jonas said, dazedly. He wants me to do that? But, that'll make it look like it's me wanting him to do that to me!

He knew that he didn't have much of a choice, though. Either I try to relax or… He couldn't bear to think of the consequences of resisting the much stronger man.

"I hope you won't become too compliant, kiddo. You'd turn into one of my regular clients and then I'd have to start charging you like them. That would get expensive for you, real quick."

"I'll never like what you do to me."

"That's the spirit, lad," Martin said and quickly quartered the model of the alien. "There, now I'll just add a flange all along the edges so we can glue the pieces together after printing."

Jonas watched, envious of Martin's skills; the man used keyboard shortcuts along with a lot of mouse activity and almost by magic a protrusion appeared around the edges so the four large pieces would click together after printing.

Martin tested the fit and deemed it perfect. All that remained was the silvery tongue/inner mouth that would sit in the centre of the alien's open outer mouth. This was also made into four pieces before the man saved all of the bits into eight separate files to be loaded on the printers.

"We'll use both printers," he told Jonas. "You should be able to take home your alien on Saturday after your sleepover."

"Cool," Jonas muttered not wholly convinced. He was still very worried about what the man wanted to do with him before that happy moment when he could leave with the model.

"It will be cool," Martin agreed. "It'll be close to sixty-five centimetres [25.6"] in length. You'll have to screw it into one of the studs in the wall, otherwise it'll come crashing down. Don't come crying to me if that happens."

I'd never do that, Jonas decided, he felt certain that Martin would only laugh at his misery and do something to add to it instead of offering any consolation.

"I think we're ready for lift-off," Martin stated and ejected the two memory cards on which he had saved the files for the printers. "It'll take almost five rolls of filament, all in all, about two point three kilos [5 lb]."

"Wo-ow," Jonas said, quietly. He was amazed that a single model could take up so much filament. He felt pleased for a moment that Martin would want to spend so much money on something for him.

That's crazy, he thought. But, why, what does he want in return? he wondered. Nothing good, he decided and shuddered.

Martin prepared his two big 3D printers with a fresh roll of filament each, inserted the memory cards and started the first two of the eight print jobs.

"About sixteen hours," he read off the projected time displayed on the printer he'd started last. "Should be nice and ready by tomorrow morning."

Jonas watched the printers from a safe distance, they were enclosed and he could see the print head start to move behind the clear acrylic glass. He didn't feel the usual urge to get up close to the action; except for picking out the model to print, he hadn't really been involved in this project.

"Now, my dear sissy," Martin said and laid his arm over Jonas's shoulder. "Will you be a big girl and walk down the stairs on your own two feet today or do I have to drag you down there kicking and screaming like the last time? I can assure you that we'll end up in the same place, doing the exact same thing, regardless of your choice."

"I'll walk," Jonas quickly decided. He didn't want a repeat of the terrifying experience of being dragged down the concrete stairs.

"Like a big girl?"

"Like myself."

"Not quite there yet, I see," Martin noted and tugged on Jonas's shoulder.

Jonas had one last look at the printer, which was now rapidly building the first layer, before he let the man steer him out of the room, into the living room and to the staircase leading down.

His heart started to beat faster as they passed through the doorway and started to walk down the stairs – Martin's hand holding tightly onto his shoulder – until it was racing inside his chest as they came to a stop before the metal door at the bottom of the staircase.

Martin shielded the keypad as he dapped in the four numbers of the pin code that unlocked the door and then pushed Jonas through the entryway to the basement.

The entry door led into a short corridor about three metres long, with bare concrete walls and sound-dampening material on the ceiling; everything was exactly as Jonas remembered it, the floor lined with linoleum, which felt cold against the naked soles of his feet.

Instead of Martin leading him straight to the bedroom with the black interior, the man turned left, bringing Jonas with him, following the corridor.

Before Jonas realized what was happening, Martin shoved him through a door opening into a small, dark room and shut the door after him.

"Hey!" Jonas shouted as he heard the unmistakable sound of the door being locked, his voice reverberating from the walls in the small room.

Suddenly, an overhead fluorescent light flickered on, blinding him before his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He found himself inside a small bathroom, although it was one unlike any he had ever seen before.

Instead of a toilet, there was a recessed bowl in the floor, little more than a glorified hole. To use it, one would have to place one's feet on the anti-slip patches on either side of the oval bowl and squat over it.

That'd be exactly like taking a dump in the forest, Jonas thought and wrinkled up his nose in disgust. He wasn't accustomed to roughing it and had never had to move his bowels outside a rest room after having mastered that very useful and basic skill.

"Prepare your arse," Martin said from outside the door. "Use the hose and make sure you're nice and clean for my cock."

There was a pink hose screwed on to a single tap next to the hole in the floor, Jonas realized now, the hose ended halfway down the drain. His eyes followed the water pipe fixed to the wall, it connected via a T-shaped fitting to a vertical pipe that he followed upward until he saw it end in an old and rusty shower head.

"When you're done cleaning your arse, take a shower," Jonas heard Martin say. "I'll come for you in half an hour or so."

Jonas saw a plastic bottle with some cheap brand of shampoo standing on the floor in the corner under the shower head. Save for an old plunger that Jonas had no desire to get anywhere near, there was nothing else in the room, the floor was covered with brown ceramic tiles and the lower quarter of the walls sported dark grey tiles, the rest were bare, brushed concrete.

There was a handle on the inside of the door but he couldn't budge it at all when he tried to push it down to open the door.

He has really locked me in! Jonas realized, close to panic now. After a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, he remembered what the man had said about coming back for him.

I'll only have to wait half an hour. I'll be okay, Jonas told himself. At least he won't be peeking in on me through the key hole. Where there was an old-fashioned keyhole in the bathroom door in Jonas's house – one that you could look through when the key was not in the lock – this door had the same kind of cylinder lock as the one in his front door at home.

This was grounds for a bit of speculation; Jonas wondered why Martin needed pick-proof locks on the inner doors in his house. He's got them on all the doors, he suddenly grasped but he couldn't see a reason for it.

He turned away from the door and looked at the hole in the floor. He didn't want to squat above that floor toilet – although it did look very clean; the white porcelain practically sparkled in the bright light from the ceiling.

He didn't want to touch the pink hose, either, not so much because of its colour, but because he worried about how many other people before him Martin had told to use it to flush out their bums.

Well, I'll fake it, he decided, not wanting to give other people's germs the chance to get inside of his bum. He was sure the man wouldn't be able to find out he hadn't done as ordered.

He can't see me through that door, he thought but realized Martin might be able to hear everything he did so he would at least have to run the water. He walked the two steps to the recessed toilet bowl and decided it would be easier to operate the faucet and hold the hose if he squatted over the toilet, as if he were going to use it.

Only, I'm not, he reminded himself, feeling rather pleased for having conjured this plan to fool Martin that he was sure to get away with, and he hunkered down in a very low crouch with his feet on either side of the bowl on the rough anti-slip patches.

Sitting there, he noticed his bladder was full enough for a little wee and he decided that since he was kind of sitting on the toilet, or at least squatting above something that might qualify for a toilet in a third-world country somewhere, he might as well make use of it and empty his bladder.

After a couple of seconds, the pee started to sputter out of the small hole in the metallic glans of the chastity device he wore and into the bowl below.

The darkish yellow stream left his body with a quiet hiss and moments later the drain started to softly gurgle just below his butt. Then he heard a different sound, a very low whirring noise, from somewhere up above him and he looked up in bewilderment.

What the fuck? he wondered, opening his eyes wide when he understood what he was looking at. Seriously? Fuck, he is a pervert!

High above him up on the wall, above the door, he saw not just one camera, but two. There had been no attempt made to hide these two cameras like the ones in the man's living room and his hobby room on the main floor of the house.

The two cameras currently trained at Jonas from their corners in the small bathroom were like the security cameras you might find in a store or a bank: a big black lens surrounded by white LEDs behind a clear acrylic dome. They were motorized, too, he observed as the one closest to him rotated a bit until it looked as if it was pointing directly down at him, too.

It was the whirring sound of one of the cameras being rotated that had brought his attention to them.

Jonas angrily flipped one of the cameras the bird, then was about to do it to the other, when he realized what he was doing.

I'm having a wee, sitting like a girl… Like a little sissy! He blushed crimson and tried to shield his stream from the cameras with his hands and arms, toppling backwards because of the unusual squatting position he was in.

For a split-second, Jonas thought he'd fall into the toilet below him, then his right buttock struck the floor and the smooth, level side of the toilet. The impact hurt some, but it was his pride that had suffered the most.

He got back up, crouching on his feet again, and while he rubbed his smarting buttock, he understood that he couldn't proceed as he'd planned. He had no choice but to rinse his bum with water from the pink rubber hose that looked as if it was a hundred years old.

If I don't, he'll see, and there's no telling what he'll do to me… Jonas shivered from fear of the unknown punishment he'd have in store.

His stream had dwindled to a stop sometime during his crash, and he no longer felt the need to pee. Instead, he grabbed the old worn hose, twisted the faucet on and directed the end of the hose toward his bum hole. Already, even before the water touched him, his shivering had increased in intensity; there was only one dial on the faucet and it was marked with two blue rings.

He knew what this meant.

It'll be freaking cold!

He gasped as the first splashes of cold water hit his thigh and he screwed his eyes shut as he pushed the end of the hose right up against his bum hole.

"Da-da-damn!" he swore, teeth starting to chatter, as the water started to enter him and he felt the coldness spread out inside of his rectum. He waited a moment longer and then bore down, pushing the cold water back out almost directly down into the drain below.

It took another dose of cold water in his bum to loosen his bowels and when he bore down again, the stream of water was repeatedly cut off as varied sized pieces of waste evacuated his body through his bum hole.

Jonas filled himself up with the hose until the water came back out without interruptions, by which time his rear end felt numb, inside and out. He let go of the hose and it dropped back to hang down into the drain, then he shut off the faucet.

Still dripping, he stood up and faced the shower. His eyes confirmed what they had seen earlier: there was only one pipe leading up to the old showerhead and, about halfway up that pipe, there was a single dial valve. Just like the one near the squat toilet, this dial was marked with blue rings.

"Oh, fe-fe-fe…" Jonas stuttered. "Fuck!"

Jonas had no way of knowing, but scarcely five minutes had passed between starting to rinse out his bum and turning on the water to the showerhead.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Preparation

Martin observed how the boy comically jumped backwards to safety beyond the reach of the spray of water falling from the wide, circular showerhead.

"You won't get clean by standing there, hugging yourself," Martin muttered to the shivering boy on the screen showing the feed from the two cameras in the small basement washroom.

Almost simultaneously, Jonas realized that he'd have to step in under the gush of water coming out of the numerous small openings in the showerhead.

He glanced discreetly up at one of the cameras, hoping it would be pointing away from him, only to see it pointing straight at him.

Why me? he wondered. Why not some other kid…? He found no answer, and more unfortunately, nobody unlocked the door to let him out. The shower was still running, the water only getting colder and making the small room even more chilled.

Jonas stepped in under the icy water falling from the old showerhead nearly half a metre above his head, quickly bending down to fetch the bottle of cheap 'Neutral' shampoo. He snapped it open and poured a dollop of the clear liquid onto the palm of his hand.

Dropping the bottle to the floor, he started to quickly spread some of the shampoo in his hair; it was superficially done, the shampoo almost washed away before it was applied, but Jonas didn't care.

Martin's water is even colder than the water back home, he thought as he went about cleaning his armpits, then his front and backside.

Happy to have completed the two tasks set by Martin, Jonas quickly switched off the shower and went to stand in the middle of the small room; the floor was dry here and he thought it was also slightly warmer.

"You still have twenty-two minutes, my little wet sissy," Martin told the screen. He hadn't thought to install a speaker system in the basement washroom, so he couldn't inform the dripping boy how much time remained, he'd have to walk down there to tell him.

You'll find out soon enough, Martin decided and left his computer to check up on the printers' progress.

Jonas looked for a towel – anything – that he could use to wipe himself down with. But, the small room was still as bare as when he had first taken stock of it. Although he spotted a mop in the corner that he hadn't noticed at first, he could hardly use that to dry his shivering body.

"Hey?" he called out, tentatively, hoping Martin might be waiting for him just outside the door. "I've fi-finished!"

There was no response. A drop of cold water started to form at the back of his head, it followed a strand of his hair until it let go and fell the short way down to his shoulder. It rapidly found a route that led it into the centre of Jonas's back where it more sedately followed the boy's slightly protruding spine downward.

"He-hello?" Jonas tried again, somewhat higher, reaching back to scratch the top of his bum crack where the single drop of cold water had just arrived resulting in a slight itch.

"I've cleaned my bum for your cock," he added, hoping this bit of information, no matter how humiliating it was, would speed up the man's arrival.

Although Martin wasn't present at the monitor and the sound was muted, the microphone in both cameras picked up everything Jonas said and his words were saved along with the video footage.

"I thought you wanted to fuck my bum?" Jonas asked after another minute of waiting and itching various spots on his body, trying to get rid of the water running in ultra-small rivulets from his hair line.

"It's all clean. See?" He turned away from the camera and bent over, reached back and spread his buttocks apart. It mortified him to act like this, but he was prepared to suffer through a bit of embarrassment if it meant he'd be able to towel himself dry sooner.

Martin returned to his computer just then.

"What's the devil's got into him?" he wondered upon seeing the boy bent over. He couldn't see the lad's arsehole from the camera's position, although it seemed clear that he wanted to draw attention to it. Ordering the camera with the best vantage point to zoom in closer didn't offer a better view. Still, he couldn't help but feel excited from the sight of a naked thirteen-year-old boy behaving like a randy girl.

Even so, he wasn't going to let him out of the washroom before time.

I ought to teach him a lesson. He didn't spend more than eight of the thirty minutes I gave him. Well, he'll suck my cock clean after it's been up his arse, no matter how filthy it is, Martin decided and minimized the window that showed the live feed from the washroom cameras.

He opened a folder with all the pictures and videos he had of Jonas, sorted by date. He clicked on the first picture file, and it opened to show a shy kid standing naked with his legs spread, his cock locked inside a crude cage made from carbon-reinforced filament.

"And he put it on himself," Martin marvelled. "Then came to me… Like the little fly entering the spider's nest. Hell, I can't wait any longer. I've got to fuck him again!"

Martin grabbed one of his tea towels from the kitchen on the way down to the basement; Jonas would have to make do with that. He won't have a hell of a long time to dry off, anyway. he told himself; his cock was already hard and his nuts were demanding release.

He opened the door to the basement as quickly as he could enter the four digits of the pin code, strode to the door to the washroom where he heard the last of the pleas from the boy trapped inside.

"Oh, puh-puh-please. I'm so-so-so co-coold! Martin, my bu-bum's ready for you. Please, I'm shi-shivering so much."

Martin inserted the key in the lock as quietly as he could and used it to slide the hardened steel mortice out of the door frame silently. He pulled open the door to find the boy still bent over, violently shaking.

"It's only been fifteen minutes," he informed the boy and started to shut the door again.

"No, wa-wait. Please, Martin. I don't care what you do, I need to warm up again."

"Oh, my little sissy's trying to be an icicle and doesn't like it? Well, okay. Here," Martin said and threw the tea towel at Jonas. It landed on the boy's back. "You can towel your hair while you follow me to the play room."

Jonas pulled the cloth from his back and straightened up. He wrapped it loosely around his head and vigorously started to towel his wet hair before he turned and walked out of the washroom.

He saw Martin waiting for him at the door to the room with the black interior and the scary four-poster bed. He had to take a deep breath before he crossed the threshold and entered what the man had called his 'playroom'.

"Up on the bed, sissy, on your knees and elbows. I want your knees right at the very edge, your petite arse jutting out over the side," Martin instructed, closing the door behind him.

The man turned on the ceiling lights; although all of the cameras installed in the basement, indeed in all of his house, were able to record in pitch blackness due to their built-in infrared LEDs, he wanted this session to be recorded in the clearest possible colours.

"Do you want me to gently smack your cheeks for a bit?" Martin asked, approaching the boy who was already getting in the required position on the bed. "It'll warm them up."

"No," Jonas responded while he moved backwards to get his knees into position. Only then did it dawn on him; I'm about to be fucked!

He hadn't tried to stop it from happening, not even made a verbal protest against it. He was acting an awful lot like he thought a sissy would behave, and he wasn't happy with himself, not one little bit.

But, what can I do? he asked himself. He was still feeling cold to the very core and he hadn't been joking when he'd claimed he'd do just about anything to get warm again. But I won't let him smack my bottom!

"No? Oh well, I'm sure I can manage to get you nice and toasty soon enough," Martin claimed and smeared a thin layer of his spittle onto his cock. He stepped up behind the boy, a miniature camera in hand.

"Put your knees closer together. Push your arse outwards and get down on your chest. Good, now I want you to really spread that icy cold arse of yours for me. Let's see how clean it is. Arch your back, get that pink hole right up in my face!"

Jonas screwed up his nose in disgust at what Martin told him to do, pushing his bottom into someone's face had to be about the most awful thing he could do to that person.

But, suddenly he remembered it was Martin that was somewhere behind him, and that he hated the man with a passion, and he arched his back and pushed back as much as he could without lifting his chest from the mattress.

"Good girl," he heard the man praise, before he sensed something very warm, wet and slimy touch his most private opening. He tried to brace himself and fought the impulse that told him to let go of his buttocks and clamp his bottom shut.

He bore down instead, as if he was trying to push out another squirt of water, believing it was Martin's cock about to be forced inside of him.

The warm sensation left his hole and he heard the man smack his lips.

Did he…? Jonas wondered. Did he just…? What did he…?

"Nothing like the sweet taste of a hole about to be fucked," Martin said, revolting Jonas.

"Did you just… Lick me, back there? he asked, and dreaded the answer; it just seemed much too perverted to him.

"Yes," Martin stated, matter-of-factly. "I simply couldn't resist your invitation."

Invitation? Jonas considered the word. I didn't invite… Oh my god, did it look like I wanted him to do that?

He felt the man's tongue returning to his bum hole. This time the disgusting slobbering action went on for longer before it was replaced by something much harder piercing into his sphincter.

"Oh-oow!" Jonas squirmed on the bed as he tried to evade the finger slowly piercing into his bum. "It hurts," he whined.

"Get used to it, sissy. I think you'd like it even less if I'd just push my cock in without a bit of preparation. Lie still now, don't thrash around so much."

Jonas lunged forward when Martin's finger was pushed even deeper inside of him; it felt awful, much worse than filling his rectum with cold water. He didn't stop until he lay flat on the bed, his bum just out of Martin's reach.

"Enough of that," Martin sternly said and leaned in over the bed to give the boy a moderately hard swat on his left cheek. "Now, come back here. I'll have to spank you for real if you don't, and put you in a harness and tie you to the bed."

Perhaps I should do just that, the man reflected, So he might get used to it before the sleepover.

But, Jonas came back up on his knees, and pushed his butt back out over the edge of the bed. He hated what Martin did to him back there, but he hated being smacked, too. It hurts more when he hits me, he told himself, choosing the lesser evil. And, if he had to be completely honest, the finger in his bum wasn't painful as such, it just didn't feel very good.

"Just a few more minutes, my sweet," Martin promised as he pushed his index finger back into Jonas's rump. No wonder he wanted me to let him out of the washroom early; his arse feels really chilled.

He worked his middle finger in next to his index finger, then deemed the boy loose enough to take his cock. He wanted to see what it would feel like working his cock into such a cold and tight arsehole.

He wanked himself with a couple of quick strokes, ensuring he was as hard as he could get, and lined up with the slightly gaping entrance to Jonas's bowels.

"Push back as I go inside of you," he instructed the kneeling boy.

Jonas hadn't considered it quite like that before; he'd thought of it only as Martin's cock entering his bum, which was bad enough as it hurt a lot in the process, but he hadn't seen it as Martin entering him. Somehow, this changed his behaviour and he clamped up like a clam.

Martin noticed the change in the boy. "I thought you were going to be a good little sissy for me today?"

Jonas didn't know what to say.

"Fine," Martin said, rose and gave Jonas's right arse cheek a resounding slap.

"Ow!" Jonas cried out, reaching back to rub his buttock. "You said you wouldn't hit me," he whined in a low, accusing voice.

"I wouldn't need to if only you'd behave. Oh, I fully expected you to go back on your word, I'm not stupid, I just didn't think it would be this soon.

"I won't ram my cock into your tight arse, not now. No, I think this calls for something else… How about we put a harness on you?" Martin asked rhetorically, he didn't wait for Jonas's reply, which would have been a firm no.

"I must have something that'll fit…" Martin continued and went over to look in his cupboards.

"Get off that bed," he ordered as he shifted through the contents on the shelves. "Stand next to it as if you're standing at the table. Hands behind your back, legs and back straight.

"Hop to it, Jonas, or I swear I'll find a whip. The welts I'll raise with that won't go away for a month."

"I'm sorry…" Jonas wailed, slowly climbing off the bed.

"Yeah? Well, you're not as sorry as you will be if you force me to use the whip on you. Get in position, boy!"

Jonas winced at the sneering way Martin had pronounced the word 'boy', he sounded exactly like the white overseer in a movie he'd seen in history class about an American cotton plantation before the civil war. He called the blacks 'boy', too.

He wondered if Martin considered him a slave now. He couldn't decide whether being a slave was worse than being a sissy; both seemed like something best to be avoided.

Only, Jonas couldn't avoid Martin. Not now, when he was naked and freezing cold, trapped in the man's basement, with a heavy steel door that required a pin code to open and two normal doors that needed keys to unlock.

Telling the man that he was sorry hadn't appeased him. If anything, it had seemed only to anger him further.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Being Taken

Jonas slid off the bed and assumed the position. He shut his eyes, couldn't bear to look at Martin rummaging through his large cupboards; he tried to picture himself in a different setting, completely free to do as he wanted.

He flinched involuntarily when a rough rope was looped around his wrists and tightened until it nearly cut off the blood supply to his hands, binding them high up on his back.

"Please, don't! I'll do everything you want," Jonas promised, pleadingly. "You don't have to tie me up."

"Shut up, kid. I'm going to put this leather harness on you and then I'm going to place you on the bed and tie you to it. I'll leave you there until I'm ready to fuck you.

"Nothing you say or do will change that. We're past that point now. You need to learn that you must do as I tell you, the very first time I tell you, or face the consequences. I'm certain I've told you this before."

Whether he had or not, Martin did exactly as he said he would; the harness was made from coarse black leather and could be adjusted in several ways until it fit snugly around Jonas's upper chest and back, just under his arms. Two lengths of leather went above his shoulders, securing the harness in place.

A black leather collar – not unlike that of a dog's, although this one had several places to hook a leash to – was wrapped tightly around his neck and tightened just enough for it to feel uncomfortable without cutting off his airflow.

"Back on the bed," Martin instructed, in his firm, no-nonsense voice.

Jonas was too frightened to object to the order and clambered onto the bed. He put his right knee up on the mattress, and his left, teetering terrifyingly before finally falling forwards. He ended up lying on his chest with his face mashed into the disgusting latex-like sheet covering the mattress.

"That sure wasn't the most elegant way you got on that bed," Martin noted, coolly. "But you managed."

The man looped another length of manila rope around Jonas's left leg just below the knee and tightened it enough to prevent it from slipping. "Move your knee this way," he ordered, tugging on the two loose ends of the rope.

Jonas wanted to tell Martin that the man didn't have to be so mean, that he didn't have to tie him to the horrible bed. His arms were aching, immobilized as they were in the unusual position behind his back. He wished that he could move them, even just a little, but the itchy rope wouldn't budge; Martin had looped it three times around his wrists and then looped it another three times between his wrists and around the first loops, resulting in a knot that kept his slim forearms almost perfectly parallel to each other.

Already, Jonas's shoulders felt as if they were about pop out of their sockets, or so he thought, never having had that experience himself. It hurts, he told himself, even as he moved his left knee in the direction of the tugging.

"Good," Martin said, quickly tying the first end of the rope to a D-shaped ring located on the lower crossbar of the bed. This, along with the rope that he'd soon tie to Jonas's right leg, would keep the boy from moving too much forward on the bed and out of reach.

He tugged some more on the other loose end of the left rope, forcing Jonas to spread his legs further apart, before he tied this to the side bar of the bed, further restricting the boy's movements.

Martin secured Jonas's right leg in the same fashion, making sure the boy spread his legs as much as he could before tying off the ends.

Jonas now lay with his lower legs off the bed, his knees at the very edge of the firm mattress. His hips were now in a competition with his shoulders for his attention, constantly and painfully making him know they weren't happy with the stress he was putting them under in the position he'd placed his body.

However, he couldn't bring his knees any closer to each other, just as he couldn't move his arms; the ropes were pulled taut and he simply wasn't strong enough to rip the 12mm [½"] thick ropes apart.

Still, Martin hadn't finished. He went and fetched another two lengths of rope that he tied around Jonas's upper arms, just above the lad's undeveloped biceps. He tied the ends of these ropes to the bed, too, even further restricting Jonas's ability to move.

Jonas was now almost prostrate on the bed, his bum was raised slightly because of how his legs had been folded up under him before his knees had been splayed wide apart and tied down.

Martin checked the height of the tight opening to the boy's innards, it was in clear sight now, the somewhat chubby arse cheeks of the boy were stretched apart, as well, almost obscenely so.

This'll work for now, he decided, although he wouldn't be able to stand upright behind the kid, but would have to crouch a bit over him to fuck his arse. I'll have to think of something else for the sleepover, he determined.

Martin exited the playroom without a word, leaving Jonas painfully tied to the bed, and went to the utility room, the only room in the basement that he hadn't altered after he bought the house. I should've made him do this, he mused, as he loaded the washer with his dirty clothes.

Jonas lay on the bed, feeling absolutely miserable; every joint in his body was in agony, or so it felt to him.

Martin had just left the basement via the yellow fire-proof door, or so Jonas thought.

He had heard the unmistakable chirps from the door as the pin code was entered, then the door being opened and finally, the heavy door shutting with its quiet thud. Since then, he'd heard nothing but his own breathing and his heart beating, and a kind of swishing-sound that he couldn't quite place.

That's how he'd deduced he was alone now, even though he couldn't look back over his shoulder to check.

He could scarcely move his head from where it was resting on his left ear and cheek. Although it was sticking to the rubbery sheet under him and this didn't feel particularly good, but it would have required tremendous willpower to move his head because any movement, however slight, set off a surge of pain throughout his immobilized body. He decided there was no point, if he lifted his head and turned it to lie on its right side, then that side would soon stick just as uncomfortably to the mattress as the other.

He wanted to scream but no one would hear him, except for Martin, maybe. If he heard me, he'd only tell me to shut up, he told himself, dejectedly.

He could wriggle his toes and his fingers, without pain; only that was about as helpful in the situation as breaking wind would be.

Why doesn't he just do it? Jonas wondered, growing angry with his tormentor; he wanted to get it over with. This waiting game was almost more upsetting than the actual act was, although having his bum hole split open and his innards invaded by the man's giant penis was both extremely disgusting and painful.

Least it didn't take very long the first time, he comforted himself. The beating he gave me before almost hurt more.

Arrrrh, he groaned, inwardly. Come on, you twit. Get on and do it, and let me go home!

The swish-swoosh soft gurgling sounds were replaced by a louder gurgling that lasted for a couple of minutes before the sound of running water started. The swish-swoosh returned, lasting for another small eternity before it was replaced by a whirring that grew louder and louder until Jonas finally recognized the sounds for what they were.

"It's his fucking washing machine," he blurted aloud. It was making the same noise as the one in the utility room in his house did when it was in the spin cycle; he could almost see how it was vibrating now.

Washing his dirty clothes is more important to him than doing it to me? he gathered and it made him more infuriated with the man. Why did he tie me up, if he knew it would be hours before he'd… he was simply too angry to finish the thought.

Jonas groaned like a wounded animal as he tensed every weary muscle in his body, hoping he'd turned as powerful as Superman or, at the very least The Hulk, but the ropes resisted his anger and he was just as trapped as when Martin had left him.

He gasped with the frustration at having exerted his limited strength on such a futile attempt to free himself that had only heightened the dull pain in his body to a full onset of muscle spasms in his upper arms and thighs.

"Ow, fuck!" Jonas wailed, unable to keep quiet any longer. He whimpered out his distress as he tried in vain to move into a more comfortable position on the bed.

"Are you ready to be a big girl now?" Martin asked on entering his playroom. He saw that Jonas was still on the bed in the exact same position as he'd been left in, his legs and – more importantly – his arse still splayed wide open, hiding nothing from view. The miniscule cock cage glittered from where it was dangling just below the puckered opening that was so much more important to Martin now. He strolled casually to the bed and stopped directly behind the boy.

"Or are you a little sissy boy who wants me to go upstairs and stop the printers, and come back down and smack your little bottom?"

"I'll be a girl," Jonas said, in quiet defeat. He was ready for about anything, if only it meant he'd be released from the hell inflicted on him by the tightly bound ropes. And I want that alien, too! He'd come this far and suffered through so much, already, that he wasn't about to give that up.

"Good," Martin commended. "Just to make sure you won't change your mind, again, I think I won't untie you until after you've proven you can be a big girl for me. Your arse cheeks are spread wide open, now, let me see your arsehole open for me, too.

"Let's start with a single finger," he suggested and placed the tip of his index finger at the wrinkled opening. "Relax and let it in," he said and started to push the dry finger against the equally dry skin of Jonas's anus. He worked it from side to side, found the vertical fold he was looking for and pushed straight in.

"Ourrh," Jonas groaned at the sensation of Martin's finger being forced into his bum. Even though it burned, he tried to relax his hole; he feared for the repercussion if Martin should decide he wasn't in full cooperation with the man in his own abuse.

"Quiet," Martin warned. "It's only one finger and it's barely in yet."

"Make it wet," Jonas pleaded. "Please, it burns."

"You want me to lick your arse?" Martin asked, feigning revulsion.

"You did it before."

"That was when I thought you'd live up to your end of the deal."

"Please, you're hurting me."

"Do I have to go look for a gag?" Martin asked, annoyed.

"No, please, not that."

"Then shut up. I'll finger your arse for a while, like this, and when I'm ready to proceed you can lick my fingers and make them wet before I stick them in." Martin pushed harder, forcing his finger deeper into Jonas's arse.

Jonas suffered in silence, the finger felt like a thorny twig pushing inside of him, until it finally couldn't go any deeper. As it was pulled back out, some of the boy's anal juices clung to it, moisturizing his sphincter. It still felt bad when the finger went back inside, faster now, but the friction was much less, and lessened further the more times the finger went in and back out of him.

Jonas didn't keep count of the thrusts into his bottom, nor of the duration, but it felt like a very long time had passed before Martin's finger vacated his hole and didn't return.

The man moved to the side of the bed and sat on it. His hand came close to Jonas's head and the boy opened his mouth, almost willingly, just as the man's index finger was about to touch his lips.

"Lick my finger clean," Martin ordered, needlessly as Jonas had already started to do just that. "Do you like the taste? It's all you, girl," the man teased.

Jonas didn't mind the taste too much, it was better than the man's pungent and salty urine, and there was much less of it. It didn't even taste like shit; even if it had, Jonas would've licked the finger and its companion that soon found its way into his mouth, next to the first – it was the only way to lubricate them before they'd be forced up his other end, he felt certain.

"Good tongue-action," Martin said, withdrawing his fingers now slimy with the boy's saliva. "You could make a man very happy, if only you wanted to."

Jonas let out a hiss when Martin pushed both of his saliva-slickened fingers straight up his bum until he couldn't get them any further in, without pause or consideration.

"Much better," Martin said, starting to pull his fingers back out. He moved them in and out until Jonas's sphincter had relaxed to the point where the friction was almost completely gone. The hole remained open when he pulled his fingers out of it, slightly gaping, the colour inside burgundy red.

"You look almost good enough to eat," he told the boy, but he had other plans in store for him and he stood up behind him.

Martin quickly opened his trousers, letting them fall down on their own and end up around his heels. His boxer briefs didn't make it quite as far down his legs before he was overtaken by desire; they barely got out of harm's way, when he leaned in over the boy and lined up his steely cock with the still gaping hole.

Jonas's wish for Martin to just get started was finally being granted, although now that it was time, he hoped the man would be slightly more considerate with his monster penis than he had been with his fingers.

Oh shit, the boy thought when he realized Martin wasn't going to take it slow. The somewhat pointed head rushed in through his hole, instantly enlarging the centre of the muscle past the point the two fingers had managed in the earlier process, before most of the rest of Martin's cock followed through.

Now that Martin was in, he decided to wait for his desire to ebb a bit, so he wouldn't reach his climax too soon. He didn't want to cum after a measly minute or two, not after having gone through all the trouble of getting the boy ready for it.

Jonas widened his eyes when he felt Martin's hairy pubic mound brush up against his bottom. He had all of the man's penis within, as extraordinarily and bizarre that this seemed to him, it had to be true. There was nowhere else that big salami-like sausage could have gone but inside of him, not after he'd felt the head of it being forced through his anus.

It felt positively strange to Jonas, being filled up like that, unlike anything he'd felt before. It didn't hurt so much now that it had stopped moving, but it certainly didn't feel good, either.

He wasn't sure for how long he'd be able to tolerate having it inside of him. His anus flexed around the stem of the large penis, the contractions were rather painful – he thought it felt much like sitting on the toilet while suffering from a nasty constipation – and they lasted until he willed his sphincter to relax.

"Yes, sissy!" Martin said when he noted the grip around his cock loosening. "That's how a big girl reacts to a man about to fuck her."

The pain decreased further and it made Jonas worry. Martin had told him so often how he'd turn into a sissy – a cock-hungry boy who would never want to date girls or have sex with them. Instead, he'd be searching for men, older and stronger than himself, that would fuck him, much like Martin was about to do now. That he was slowly adjusting to having the massive penis in his bum had to mean…

No! Jonas non-verbally screamed at himself. I'm not a sissy! It became more apparent to him when he felt Martin's pubic mound slowly separate itself from his bum and the big penis start to withdraw from his innards.

Ow, this does not feel good, he thought, reflexively tightening his sphincter in an attempt to stop it from moving.

"You're learning," Martin said, somewhat surprised. "Now, on the in-stroke you need to relax, push your little hole open for my cock, let me come back inside of you."

Clenching his bum hole hadn't helped, Jonas realized. Martin had still been able to pull his penis almost completely out of his bum, only the glans remained just within his smarting sphincter.

Maybe it'll hurt less if I do as he says, Jonas contemplated, still clamping his hole as tightly as he could. But, forcing my bum open will make it look like I want him to continue…

He just couldn't allow that and kept his bum as tightly compressed as he could with his knees so widely splayed out on the bed.

"Fine with me," Martin decided and used his fingers to keep his cock from bending as he forced it back into the boy's extremely tight arse. "It only takes a little more effort. I wonder whom of us will tire first."

"Oo-ow," Jonas moaned with the renewed sense of pain in his bum as Martin's large penis went back inside of him. He tugged at the ropes, but the little he could move his limbs trussed up as he was didn't make any difference. He was going nowhere until he was unbound by the very man who was painfully raping him. His struggles to free himself only made his thigh muscles twitch with cramps again, bringing forth tears in his eyes. "Let me go-o!" he wailed.

"Never!" Martin growled and pushed harder forwards, sinking the rest of his cock back into the tightest arse he could remember having fucked. If only I could find a way to keep you, he thought. It would fulfil the vision he'd had for the basement ever since the realtor had shown him the house for the first time.

He had to stop himself from dwelling on the thought of having a live-in slave, someone he could dominate 24/7, someone much too weak to fight back; someone young and gullible, someone who he could mould into exactly what he wanted. Someone just like the very boy currently lying tied to the bed, that he was so very close to filling up with his sperm.

"No!" Martin barked and slowly disengaged from the ultra-tight confines of the boy's rear end. Not just yet, he told himself, quietly, as his cock popped free, bobbing up and down, and throbbing with his heart beat. He'd nearly cum too soon, again. What is it with him? Why does he have this impact on me? he wondered while waiting for his excitement to die down a bit.

When he was certain he wouldn't cum prematurely, Martin went to the cupboard and fetched a small pump-action bottle with lube. This should help, he hoped and pushed the spout tightly up against Jonas's arsehole and started to pump the water-based lubrication directly inside of the lad.

"Please, let me go," Jonas begged softly, whimpering. "I'll do anything you want," he promised. "I'll never tell on you. Ow, my thigh is cramping, please! I must go home soon."

"Oh, I'll let you go," Martin assured. "When I'm done with you. Also, it's barely three o'clock so we have plenty of time before you need to go home."

"What?" Jonas asked, perplexed. Only three? He wasn't sure how that was possible, it felt as if he'd been tied to the bed for days and not just a couple of hours. If Martin was right, it meant he wouldn't have to leave for another two hours to make it home in time for dinner.

"No!" he cried out. I'll die if he doesn't release me soon.

"No? Don't you want to go home?" Martin asked, dropping the bottle of lube on the bed. "I can't keep you, I'm afraid your parents wouldn't like that very much," he added as he pushed the bared glans of his cock up against the lad's puckered and well-lubricated hole.

The man gained entry relatively effortlessly, his cock sliding on the film of lube into the still very tight tunnel within the boy. This is much better, he decided. The friction was minimal and there was no longer any danger of a premature release.

His next thrust was harder, faster, the stimulation getting closer to what he wanted and he bucked his hips again and again, humping the prostrate boy who could do nothing to prevent him.

Jonas had stopped pleading, having finally realized the futility in trying to get even the slightest bit of compassion from the cruel man. His breath was forced from his lungs with every fierce thrust of the man's huge penis into his bottom and the air whooshed from him in low grunts.

He had also stopped clenching his bottom as firmly shut as he could; even he could see the pointlessness in this given the fact that Martin was ploughing into his bottom without remorse and without any apparent difficulty after he'd squirted him full of the cold and sticky lubrication.

He was disgusted by the revolting slurping sounds that accompanied the severe thrusts; to Jonas it sounded like a never-ending series of very wet farts and it mortified him knowing that the sounds came from himself even if he had no choice in the matter.

It was impossible to blot out the excited gasping from the man stretched out on top of him and it only added to Jonas's discomfort that Martin should take so much pleasure from hurting him in this extremely disgraceful way.

Most of his body was wrecked with pain now that Martin's thrusts picked up in speed and intensity again. It forced him further toward the middle of the bed, making the manila ropes cut deeper into his lower legs.

Jonas had lost all sense of time, again, when he heard Martin's breathing get even more laboured and he noticed how ragged the man's movements had become.

"Ye-ess," Martin gasped at the onset of his orgasm; finally he'd lasted longer than a minute having sex with his absolute favourite sub. He was far from his personal record but it mattered not as he felt his sack tighten around his eggs in preparation for the explosion-like climax to rutting the young boy.

He thrust in again, only making it halfway into the boy's slick arse before he reversed and shuddered with the tingling sensations in his cock. He screwed his eyes shut and made another quick forceful thrust, as deep as he could go, into the lad's upturned butt and he felt his perineum contract as the first shot of sperm went off.

He shivered and managed only a short backwards jerk before a second shot of sperm was launched. The slight movement was nearly too much for him and he pushed back in at the same time as a third shot propelled through his urethra and deep into Jonas.

"Take that," Martin groaned, "And that." He had to gasp for air again and could only moan through the last of his orgasm.

"Oh, you slutty sissy," he whispered, when the climax had finally ebbed. Although his heart was still pounding and his breath slightly ragged, he was in a dream-like, relaxed state.

"I've really filled you up this time," he noted.

"Get off me," Jonas implored. "It hurts so much."

"Tighten up your arse now, I'll make you lick up anything you spill," Martin replied as he slowly started to withdraw his spent cock from the boy's sloppy arse. "And remember how you're feeling. This is what happens whenever you're a little resisting bitch, Jonas."

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Clean-up Duty

Jonas wept with humiliation.

Even though Martin had removed his wilting penis very slowly after having fucked the boy, some nasty looking gunk had come out along with it before he'd been able to clench his butthole shut.

The boy's tears came also from the amount of pain he'd suffered while being tied to the bed for so long. Adding to his humiliation, now that he'd been freed, he could scarcely stand upright; the front muscles in his thighs, especially, were objecting to having been stretched for so long.

"Stop your snivelling, it sounds so pathetic," Martin said. "And lick off that spot you left on the sheet."

The sheet, made from black latex, had a splotch on it near the edge of the mattress, Jonas saw. He also noted the imprints his knees had left on either side of the drop; the distance between them was about 75 cm [30"].

How's that possible? he wondered. He wasn't very flexible, normally; perhaps that was why his muscles were hurting so much now.

Jonas eyed the splotch with some concern. It was mostly transparent with just a little yellow/brownish tint to it, still he knew the slimy and frothy substance had come from within his bum and that made it something to avoid. He'd been taught this by his parents and other grown-ups when he was still in diapers and had been very curious about what came out of that opening.

And now, Martin was ordering him to lick it up and eat it.

Jonas swallowed; he knew the taste would be foul from having sucked and licked Martin's finger clean after it had been in his bum just before the man had started to rape him.

"Do it," Martin goaded. "Do you want that alien or not?"

Jonas nodded. There was nothing more he wanted at the time, except for his freedom. It didn't seem likely he'd be freed from Martin any time soon, though, and the alien was but a small delight in all the terror inflicted on him by the man.

"I want it," he croaked.

"Then you know what to do."

Jonas did know, he just didn't want to do it. Finally, after another ten seconds, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'll do it," he said, quietly.

"Good. Be quick about it."

Jonas looked up at Martin, sighed again and slowly got down on his weary knees in front of the bed. He leaned over until his mouth was directly above the splotch, which from this distance looked gigantic.

It wasn't, though. The wet patch was roughly circular, about 5 cm [2"] in diameter, merely a large icky drop that had fallen from his smarting butthole when Martin had pulled out his penis.

Still, it took considerable effort for Jonas to drum up the courage required to open his mouth and stick out his tongue, and tip his head forward for that first swipe against the latex sheet across the miniature puddle of pure god-awfulness.

As he sat there kneeling, with his tongue out, mere centimetres from the splotch, his nose picked up the smell from the liquid. It almost made him back off, that unmistakable smell of his butt, but just then Martin cleared his throat in a most ominous way.

After another quick swallow, Jonas swiftly took a lick at the wetness, swallowed, and licked again, and again, until the sticky residue was gone, replaced with a sheen of his saliva.

He swallowed again, trying to clear his mouth from the combined tastes of latex, lube, sperm, and his own body fluids. It left him with a rubbery, salty, and musky aftertaste that fortunately wasn't nearly as bad as the first time when Martin had forced him to taste his own shit.

It was bad enough though and Jonas looked pitifully up at the man. "Can I go use the loo?" he asked in a soft voice. He wanted to expel the liquid nastiness inside of him, even if it meant squatting over that third-world toilet under the cameras again. He also planned to use the hose to rinse out his mouth; no matter how disgusting that idea seemed, the water would at least come out of the hose clean.

"And let my sperm go to waste? It should be obvious even to you that you may not," Martin replied with contempt. "Can you hold it in?" he asked.

Jonas nodded, miserably. He could, but he didn't want to. His butt felt like it was full of slime and his butt crack was greasy as well.

"Good. Now, there's one last thing you need to do for me and then you'll be done being a big girl for the day."

"What?"

"You don't sound very grateful. Not at all like the big girl, you promised you'd be."

"Sorry," Jonas said, hoping that he sounded adequately contrite; he wasn't feeling genuinely sorry, he just wanted to go home. "I only meant what do you want me to do?"

"Lick me clean, you silly girl. Your sticky fluids are all over my cock and balls," Martin said and gestured at his still slightly engorged member.

"You said I didn't have to suck on it!"

"I never said that. You told me how you didn't want to suck on it today, but I don't care what you want or not.

"If you aren't busy giving my cock a nice wet tongue bath within five seconds, I'll have you run out to the back of my garden for an armful of fresh nettles that I'll use on your bare arse and back, and your small pathetic excuses for balls, until all of the leaves fall off. Five… Four…"

Jonas swallowed nervously and quickly shuffled around to sit in front of Martin. Before the man spoke the number two, Jonas had opened his mouth and sucked in the sticky head of the fat penis.

"Make your mouth wetter… Yes, that's better," Martin noted. "Work the skin back and clean off all the funk from under it with your tongue. Use your fingers and milk all the remaining sperm from my cock, make sure you swallow everything," he said in a slightly quavering voice; the boy's silky lips and tongue on his post-climatic glans was closer to torture than pleasure.

The man endured and the feeling was soon getting better, his excitement building. It was once again being confirmed that he was the alpha male; Jonas licking his soiled cock clean was the proof, if he had ever needed any.

"Mind your teeth, you worthless sissy," he growled when he felt one of the boy's canine teeth scrape against his sensitive skin.

When Jonas immediately reacted with a flinch as if he'd been whipped with a belt, Martin's cock grew firmer. His hands went to the back of the boy's head, both grabbing a handful of his auburn locks.

"Keep your teeth off my cock," Martin warned and pushed his hips tentatively forward. "Don't try to close your mouth, bitch. Relax, I'm not going to kill you."

Martin pushed further, slowly, moving his hips ever so slightly from side to side, and his cock went deeper until Jonas responded with a throaty rasping sound.

Martin stopped where he was. "Calm yourself," he said and waited while he kept the boy's head perfectly still. "I'll get the mask if I have to but you really need to learn to do this without help."

Jonas struggled but he was already worn out from having been tied to the bed for so long and he couldn't break away from Martin's hold. The man's long and fat cock was fully engorged again and had reached the back of his mouth.

Again, Jonas's chest convulsed painfully and he tried to push against Martin's thighs but he couldn't budge the much stronger man.

"Do I need to restrain your hands again?" Martin asked, his voice coloured by the dissatisfaction he felt. "I want you to take all of my cock in your mouth for ten seconds, just three times today.

"If I have to restrain you and cover up your pretty head with the mask, I'll fuck your throat as hard as I did your arse until I cum from it."

Jonas shook his head no as best as he could.

"You don't want me to restrain you?"

Jonas shook his head again and blinked away a tear. He didn't want to wear that mask ever again. The first and only time he'd worn it, he had felt as if he couldn't breathe. It had also blinded him and impacted his hearing, but that hadn't been as bad as the feeling of being suffocated.

"Okay then," Martin said. "Bend forward and lean your head back… No, I'll keep holding on to your head, straighten out your throat as much as you can. That's it. Take a deep breath through your nose now.

"Hold your breath as I push in… Help it go in, swallow. Do not fight it, Jonas. We're nearly there." Martin watched his cock disappear from view, step by step, somewhat impressed with Jonas's ability to accept the horrible experience it must be to have his mouth and throat used like this.

Nevertheless, the man didn't care much about the boy's well-being, it was his own needs that took precedence. He doesn't have anything to worry about, I'd never kill him, he thought as he watched his trimmed pubic hairs make contact with Jonas's soft lips.

"That's it, you've now taken all of my cock in both of your holes," Martin noted drily. "Ten, nine, eight," he counted out, slowly, each number supposedly representing a single second; in reality, it took him at least twenty seconds before he slowly pulled his cock back out of Jonas's throat and mouth.

Jonas sputtered and coughed up a lot of thick saliva that ran down his chin to the floor. He wheezed violently for air, filled his lungs in big gulps that extended his chest as much as his ribcage would allow before he let it all back out. He managed another ten or eleven of these deep breaths before Martin decided he was ready for another round.

"Right," the man said and tightened his grip on Jonas's hair. "Open up, let's do that again."

"Please," Jonas begged, but the soft tip of Martin's foreskin was already brushing against his lips, wetting them with his own saliva. "No mor… Rghh!" His plea was cut short by the large cock entering his mouth and it turned into a guttural sound when the tip of the cock passed along the back of his tongue.

Soon, most sounds were blocked, again, apart from a choking sound from Jonas.

"See? This time it didn't take so long," Martin remarked. "If only we do this often enough, I'm sure I'll eventually be able to fuck your throat properly and you won't mind it at all."

Jonas wasn't so sure. Even if his mouth was wide open he couldn't breathe and his body was reflexively trying to clear the blockage in his throat. It couldn't dislodge the large cock halfway down his throat, though.

Martin, on the other hand, was enraptured by the convulsing action all around his glans. He knew of only one place that he could experience this unique feeling, which was within another person's throat. He felt certain that he'd reach climax without having to work for it if only he could keep his cock where it was for long enough.

Jonas was struggling, though, and the man hadn't even started the countdown yet. He was suffocating, his lungs were burning with the need to ventilate. His throat convulsed again and another time, before he finally heard Martin's voice.

"Ten, nine," it went, much too slowly for comfort. But, finally, the count reached 'one' and he felt the large obstacle being withdrawn from his throat and his mouth.

Jonas leaned further forward, coughing and sputtering, another string of thick saliva from his throat escaping and landing on the cold linoleum between his knees.

"Only one more time remains," Martin told the wheezing boy. "Then you can clean up the mess you made here and tidy up the wash room." He tilted the lad's lolling head backward and stuck his cock back inside the wet hotness behind those pretty lips.

Jonas was on his hands and knees cleaning up his saliva from the linoleum. Martin had mercifully allowed him the use of the tea towel to wipe up the slimy substance that held very little resemblance to the spittle usually found in his mouth. His throat hurt and he was feeling sick from the events of the afternoon.

He made me eat his sperm, he thought as he got up on his feet. The recollection resulted in a pained expression on his face as he walked the short distance to the wash room. Here he grabbed the mop, as per Martin's instructions, and wiped it across the wall tiles in the shower and all the floor tiles, directing the water that hadn't yet evaporated toward and into the floor toilet.

He looked longingly at the toilet, no longer did he care about having to crouch over it to use it; he only wanted to kneel in front of it and force himself to throw up and then crouch above it while he used the hose in his bum again. He was ready to do anything that would rid his body of the sperm that Martin had shot into him.

However, the man had expressively forbidden him to do just that. Sighing, he ran the mop around the toilet and into it, before he put the mop back in the corner where he had found it. He finished his job by polishing the white porcelain with the tea towel until it sparkled.

"I'm done," he told the cameras looking down on him.

It took another five minutes for Martin to let him out of the basement.

"Before you leave, there's just one last thing," Martin said, as they stood next to the dinner table in his dining/living room.

On the table lay multiple items that Jonas quickly identified as having to do with the chastity device he wore.

"If you recall, I made your cock cage using the same design as one of my paying clients, yours is just a hell of a lot smaller. He called me Monday and bitched at me, complaining that it was much too easy to free himself from the cage I'd made for him. He demanded that I'd design a new one for him, one that he couldn't break free from.

"Well, I did. And I made one for you as well, although I'm sure you'd never admit to being able to free your little cock from its cage, am I right?"

"Eh… Uh, I can't get it off. Eh, I mean, I haven't tried…" Jonas claimed, though he had with no success. He couldn't see how anyone could remove it without the key, however, it had hurt him too much when he'd tried.

"Well, that may be. But, since I've already made the upgraded version for you, I think you'll just have to wear it. You need to practice too, there are only so many days left before school starts and you'll need to be able to remove it, and put it back on, in mere minutes.

"On the table is everything you need, including the key. I only had to change the part that goes around your nuts and cock. As you can tell, it's been made into a sort of bent figure of eight. The larger opening is for your nut sack and the smaller is for your cock. You feed your nuts in one by one and then your cock.

"Use the catheter you have in your cock now as a template for cutting the new one to length. I don't want you to piss on my carpet when you put it in your cock."

Jonas sat on the chair and picked up the key.

It was the first time Martin had trusted him to remove the torture device from his penis without first chaining him like some small animal to whatever sturdy furniture was nearby. Still, he figured the man's front door must be locked, like the French doors to the garden and all his windows, so it didn't matter much. He wouldn't be able to bolt from the house, and even if he could, he would have to make a runner without getting dressed first, which he was much too bashful to do.

He gingerly inserted the small key in the brass lock within the chastity device, turned it and pulled it back out taking along the entire cylindrical lock with it. He placed that on the table and tugged on the cock cage, which fitted so well to the ring around his nuts that he had to jiggle it a little to make it come undone.

The catheter came out very reluctantly, it felt as if it had fused with his urethra and burned all the way out, and he sighed with relief when he could finally place the cock cage with the old catheter still attached to it on the table.

Popping his balls, one by one, through the locking ring was a breeze compared to the hurtful experience he'd just gone through with the catheter, and he was now free of the damned thing.

Even though his penis was now fully accessible, he couldn't wank; Martin hadn't given him permission to do that. Moreover, he simply didn't feel any desire to do so. His penis was as shrivelled as if he'd been laying in the tub for a full day and it looked smaller than he remembered from the last time, he'd seen it.

"Now, put the new retainer on," Martin told Jonas.

The opening that Jonas was meant to put his balls through was tiny compared to the old lock ring. The first ball went through with only a bit of work, whereas the second had to be painfully aligned and then forced through. His scrotum was pulled taut when at last the retaining ring sat where it was supposed to, flush with his pubic mound.

"What's that?" Martin asked and leaned in close. "Unauthorized hair growth?"

"What?" Jonas asked, turning his attention to his groin as well.

"You're sprouting hairs," the man noted.

"Where?" Jonas couldn't hide the excitement in his voice; finally, his pubic hair was growing! He'd waited for this moment ever since he'd learned that men had hair growing there.

"Here," Martin said and caught one of the few developing hairs between two of his nails. He tugged it out and held it up for Jonas to see.

"Ow!"

"This doesn't grow on a sissy," Martin said, sternly. "We'll deal with that tomorrow."

"Eh, what? Wait, that's my…"

"It's filth, kiddo. Only grown-ups are allowed hair on their body, not little kids like you."

"But…"

"You wanted me to treat you like a little kid. Now, put the rest of your cock cage on," Martin said ending all discussion about Jonas's newly sprouting pubic hair.

Chapter Thirty
The sleepover, part 1

Jonas finally made it back to his home street with strict orders to return to Martin's house on the next day at three o'clock in the afternoon. He got off the bus and quickly checked his reflection in the bus shelter's safety glass.

He could see no visual signs of having been orally raped, his lips were their usual self insofar that he could tell from the short inspection. They didn't hurt, either, unlike his throat, which was burning like it had in the winter when he'd suffered from a severe sore throat.

His bum, more accurately his butthole, was also burning. However, that part of him was fortunately hidden from view by his underwear and shorts and he could walk almost normally as he made his way home. The most acute problem he had, back there, was that he felt very much like he needed to fart.

I can't, he told himself and tried to clench his hole even more shut. I'll mess my pants. The mess Martin had made of the boy's insides with the lube and his foul sperm felt much the same to Jonas as if he had a bad case of diarrhoea.

The standing order from his tormentor was to keep his generous offering – his sperm – inside of him for as long as he could, preferably until he'd have to move his bowels again from natural causes.

Urgh, not today, Jonas thought. I'm about to shit myself, he realized and tried to walk faster.

His penis was hurting too, the pee hole and the urethra were stinging as if he'd pissed vinegar. The lube Martin had allowed him to use to aid the insertion of the new catheter hadn't done much to alleviate the pain from removing the old.

It better not burn like this forever, he told himself as he entered the garden in front of his house. He feared he might never be able to wank again, or pee without the use of a catheter.

"I'm home," he stated, still croaking some, upon opening the front door. The family car was parked in the driveway, meaning his mum was home from work.

"Dinner in fifteen," he heard her call from the kitchen.

"Okay," he acknowledged as he hurried to the bathroom. He only just managed to sit on the toilet before he had to let go. The trapped gas exited with a wet sound like someone blowing a raspberry, but that was all that came out and it puzzled Jonas.

"I could've just farted instead of holding off for thirty minutes?" he moaned softly. The other passengers on the bus might not have appreciated the smell, yet he felt like he had suffered for no good reason.

"Did we not just have a chat last night, Jonas?" Susan asked a few minutes into dinner.

"Uh-oh," Peter said. "What's he done now?"

"Your son was telling me how he's no longer a child…"

"What nonsense is this?" Peter asked and laid down his fork and knife.

"Martin led him to believe that."

"Martin? Oh, right, your new friend," Peter said and looked at Jonas sipping from his glass of water, who was keeping quiet and following the conversation between his parents as if he were a spectator at a game of tennis.

Jonas looked at his mum when she spoke again.

"Well, we agreed that it would be better if Jonas didn't spend so much time with Martin…"

And he shifted his attention back to his dad when he interrupted her with a question.

"Why is that?"

"He's changed, Peter! Even you must have noticed that?"

"He's a teenager, dear. He's just going through a phase."

"I'm not so sure… Anyway, that's beside the point. I suggested he should stop spending so much time with this kid and then, oh you won't believe this, today Martin's father called me at work…"

"Did he now?"

"Yes, he called to say that Jonas had begged him to allow him to sleep over at their house tomorrow night!"

"I didn't…" Jonas started to say, but stopped when his father spoke up again.

"Is that such a big crime?" Peter asked Susan. "School's still out and even if it wasn't, tomorrow's Friday…"

"Jonas is in the middle of slowly adjusting to going to bed earlier, you know that!"

"Right, honey," Peter acquiesced.

"And even so, he pleads with the poor man to let him spend the night… That's not polite, Jonas!"

"I'm sorry," Jonas said softly, not knowing what else he should say. I never begged to sleep over at Martin's house, he thought. I never even asked him, he wanted me to sleep over, but he could never say that.

"I only okayed it because Martin happens to be on a similar wind down routine as you," Susan pointed out. "He just goes to bed slightly earlier than you and you'll both be going to bed at that time, which won't hurt you one bit. Maybe going to bed sooner will teach you to ask your parents before you go ahead and make arrangements behind their backs."

"Yes, Mum," Jonas mumbled, defeated. "I already said I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you only begged him to let you stay at his house because you know your Aunt Megan is coming here Saturday morning," Peter said.

"She is?" Jonas asked, feeling even more perturbed by this bit of news.

"Yes. So, I want you back here by noon at the latest," Susan bid. "She wants to see you."

"Yes, Mum," Jonas agreed. Well, that just ruins the entire weekend, doesn't it?

"Are you coming down with something?" Susan wondered. "You sound sort of hoarse."

"No, eh… I just, uh, sang a lot with Martin today," Jonas stated.

"Maybe you should go to bed early, just in case," Peter decided.

Jonas lay in bed, it was barely eight o'clock in the evening, but he'd decided to heed his father's advice. Now that he knew for certain he'd be sleeping at Martin's house, he was wondering what agony he had coming to him at the hands of the vile man.

He wouldn't even tell me what he was going to do to me, he remembered, assuming the worst. Some of this and some of that… He shuddered and pulled the duvet up over his head.

Friday was windy and overcast, an early warning of what autumn would be like.

Having received no special instructions on what to wear, what to bring or how to clean himself before going to Martin's house, Jonas left home in a pair of shorts, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a woollen sweater.

It was too cold for shorts that day, really, yet Jonas dared not defy Martin's orders to always wear shorts when going to visit the man's house. Will he want me to wear them in December, too? he wondered and decided that Martin probably would want that just to make him suffer more.

I'll have to ask Mum to buy me some soccer socks, he told himself; at least those he'd be able to pull up over his knees, he knew, from watching Noah get ready for practice one day.

It was still summer even though most of it had almost passed, but it didn't feel that way as Jonas made his way toward the bus stop. The wind felt cold and damp, coming in from the west, and it didn't help ease his mood that afternoon.

Mum told me to be home by noon tomorrow morning, that's… he worked his mind. Three in the afternoon to three in the night is twelve hours, and three to eleven that's eight hours… So… Twenty hours!

During those twenty hours, Jonas figured Martin would have to let him sleep from 21:45 – which was his bedtime that day, and which Martin had promised to observe – until 08:00, which reduced his waking hours to… Less than ten. Perhaps I can tell Martin I have to be home earlier even if it means seeing more of Aunt Megan. Even being with her was better than being tortured by Martin.

I can survive ten hours of torture, he bravely told himself. Less than ten hours. He'd survived for a lot longer than that, already. He was still wearing a torture device that prevented his penis from growing hard. This new version sat even closer to his body and when he'd tried to budge it, his balls had immediately started to ache; so now he couldn't touch his penis at all, he couldn't even see it.

I did see it yesterday. The image of his little wrinkled and shrivelled penis was still in his mind. It wasn't a happy memory. Replacing the catheter had hurt and it still smarted today. I might never want to play with it again, he told himself just as he spotted the yellow city bus slowing and pulling off the road to come to a stop in the bay in front of him.

He boarded and showed his pass to the driver, found a seat and started to speculate again.

When he gives me the key to the torture device so I can unlock it before gym class, I'll have to remember to take it off as soon as I get home from his house. That way I'll have the rest of the afternoon and all evening for the pain to go away. And then I can play with it just before I go to sleep, he decided. I'll play with it when I wake up the next morning, too.

Because he would have gym class twice a week, he figured he'd get to wank four times. That would be a massive improvement over the past month and a half or so, where he'd been able to wank one time only. Well, he did let me wank that other time on the sofa… Until he hit me in the nuts with that new torture device. He wouldn't even let me get the feelings then.

He remembered the other humiliating time, where he'd sat on a low stool on the man's work bench, while his private parts had been photographed from every possible (and near impossible) angle. Martin had insisted on Jonas maintaining his hard-on for the duration. But he'd been denied an orgasm then, too.

And when he finally let me… That was an even more humiliating experience, again he had been filmed, then forced to drink his own urine. Oh, God! But that was far better than drinking his piss, though.

There were so many ways Martin had tormented Jonas that he simply couldn't anticipate what the man wanted to do to him this time. He has ten hours… Lots could happen in ten hours.

Suddenly, Jonas didn't feel quite so confident. Why did I ever ask him if he'd print that alien for me?

He looked up with a feeling of being completely and utterly lost and his eyes came to rest on a poster with a boy's face on it. He looked slightly older than Jonas and looked almost as helpless as Jonas felt.

The poster had a caption in white. 'Do you have a problem or are you upset about something?' it read and Jonas nodded, unconsciously.

Boy, do I ever, he thought, his problem even came with a name: Martin Harder.

'Ring, Text, Chat, Write us – Free of charge and anonymously. 116 111.'

He considered the suggestion briefly before he let out a sigh of defeat.

Speaking to someone won't make my problems go away, he thought, painfully aware that he'd eventually have to tell them his name and address if they were to help him. The torture device wouldn't unlock simply by telling someone that he was being forced to wear it. And for as long as it held his penis prisoner, he was a prisoner, having to obey Martin's rules or face the punishment.

No one can ever know, he said, repeating the conclusion he'd reached so many times before. He could only hope for Martin to grow bored with him soon and that the man would then delete the pictures and video clips he had of him. That way, only the two of them would know just how stupid he'd been.

Well, Jackie knows, too. But the small boy was fortunately much too young to understand.

Jonas exited the bus and hurried toward Martin's house. He longed to be indoors where it would be warm. He felt sure even the man's basement would be warmer than it was outside as he walked about as quickly as he could without breaking into a run and drawing attention to himself.

He let himself in, shut the door and turned around. He was startled to see Martin sitting at the dining table.

"You're here," the man said. "Good. Take off your clothes and assume the position, quickly now."

Jonas started to take off his clothes. Even if the man said nothing while he pulled off his sweater and his shorts, it still made the boy feel more humiliated getting undressed with Martin watching him than it did when he'd get naked there on the mat on his own.

Jonas's face was flushed when he finally folded his underpants and placed them on top of the orderly pile of his clothes. He took up the position at his usual place at the table, opposite Martin.

"Do they still teach kids how to cook in school?" Martin asked, bewildering Jonas.

"Eh, yes?" he replied.

"Good. You see, I don't like to cook for myself and I'd absolutely hate having to cook for you, my little sub. I did consider take-away for me and a can of dog food for you, but I just can't stand the smell from that.

"So, you'll be cooking for us both tonight. What can you cook? What's your speciality? Your favourite meal?"

"Uh, I don't know…?" Jonas said and looked down at his toes.

"There must be something you've learned to cook if they still teach that subject in school?"

"Well, yes… But, ah, no. It's silly, you wouldn't like it…"

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Stuffed peppers."

"That doesn't sound so bad to me, not at all. Do you remember the recipe offhand?"

"I think," Jonas said, softly.

"You need to stop guessing, kiddo. You must know," Martin asserted. "Wait there."

The man got up from the chair and walked to the bookcase surrounding the large flat screen tv; he brought back a notepad and a pen that he placed in front of Jonas. Then he went to the kitchen and fetched a glass that he placed next to the pen and pad.

"There. Now, take a good look at that glass," he ordered Jonas and waited for the boy to do so. "I want you to fill it with your steaming piss."

"Eh, you want me to pee in it? Here?"

"Right where you're standing and right now. And don't you dare piss on my carpet or I'll blister those delightful arse cheeks of yours."

"I don't know if I can…"

"You'd better. If we need to use a catheter to drain your bladder, it'll stay inside of you until you've finished cooking. That means you'll be going grocery shopping with a urine collection bag strapped to your thigh."

Jonas blanched. The athletic shorts Martin allowed him to wear were rather short – certainly they were much shorter than the board shorts or ¾-length light trousers he'd normally wear in the summer – and he was sure they wouldn't hide a drainage bag.

"Now, when you've finished filling the glass, you'll write down the ingredients you think you need for the dish," Martin instructed. "While you do that, I'll search for a recipe online. We'll compare that recipe's list of ingredients with your list.

"For every ingredient you get right you can remove a small measure of piss from the glass. In other words, the more you remember, the less you'll have to drink with your dinner tonight."

"You want me to drink…?"

"It would be very rude of me not to allow you something to drink with your dinner, don't you think?"

"But… My piss?"

"Yes. Oh, if you remember enough of the ingredients, I'll let you top off the glass with some nice cold tap water. You might not even taste the piss if you do well enough.

"On the other hand, if you'd rather go with the catheter, that's entirely your choice, then you'll be drinking everything that comes out of your bladder, no matter how many ingredients you get right, without any fresh water to dilute it.

"So, what'll it be?"

Jonas picked up the glass. It was slightly bigger than the water glasses his parents had back home, able to hold 3 dl [10 fl. oz] of fluid. He held it under the opening of the torture device and concentrated on letting go. His task was made harder by the intense scrutiny he was being subjected to by the man.

"Do you have to watch me?" Jonas asked.

"Yes. Close your eyes if you must, just get on with it. It'll only take me a minute to fetch a catheter and a bag…"

"That," Jonas interjected, happily, feeling that something was about to take place, "won't be necessary." His pee came out hesitantly at first, then settled into a trickle slowly beginning to fill the glass. He tried to pee as slowly as possible, so that he would be able to stop just before he'd fill the glass completely. I must allow for the dribbles to stop, he reminded himself.

And the more I fill it, the more I'll have to drink, he thought, disgustedly; there was no chance he'd be able to remember all the ingredients for the stuffed peppers dish he'd cooked only once in school. Why didn't I say wieners and bread? That's only four things: wieners, bread, ketchup, and mustard.

He had to focus on his peeing, the glass was rapidly filling, crossing the halfway point now. His bladder sphincter was itching to open fully, but he knew that if he were to do that, he'd risk overfilling the glass.

"Get it as close to the brim as you can," Martin ordered.

The glass was ¾ full and Jonas stopped the flow of his pee, only to be told to keep going. He squinted his eyes and managed to restart the stream. He clenched his buttocks tightly making sure his pee only trickled from the coupling in the chastity device into the glass.

He was certain the glass would overflow any second when finally, Martin told him to stop.

"That's it. Now, put that glass on the table and fetch one more from the kitchen. Also, grab a straw from the second drawer," the man ordered and Jonas did as he was told, clenching hard to try and stop any more pee from coming out. He hadn't wanted to go but now he really felt the need to finish.

When the boy returned to the table with the requested items, Martin spoke up again.

"Place the empty glass next to the full one and put the straw next to the glasses." He waited for Jonas to do so, before continuing. "Kneel at the end of the table, you can sit there while you work on the ingredients list." He slid the notepad and pen across the oaken table top.

"Remember, for every ingredient you get right you get to transfer a bit of piss from the glass you'll be drinking from during the dinner to the other glass.

"But, for every wrong ingredient, you'll start right over, with a full glass of piss."

Jonas sat upright on his knees, gently chewing on the end of the pen while trying to remember the ingredients for making stuffed peppers. He knew exactly what was at stake, the two glasses stood within his field of vision, one full of his pale-yellow pee, almost resembling a lager beer with a tiny bit of foam at the top, and the other empty for the moment.

He very much hoped to change that, but he hadn't paid much attention to the list of ingredients when his class had cooked the stuffed peppers, almost four months earlier. He had been paired up with his best friend Noah who had done most of the work, leaving the simpler things like cleaning the bell peppers and filling them to Jonas.

1. Bell peppers
2. Ground meat

He wanted to write ketchup as the third ingredient, but he wasn't sure.

It was tomato, he remembered, but whether it was paste or ketchup, he couldn't quite recall. It's got to be paste, he decided.

3. Tomato paste
4. Onion
5. Cheese
6. Rice

No, wait… He suddenly remembered holding a bottle of ketchup, and decided to add it to the list.

7. Ketchup
8. Salt
9. Pepper
10. Dill

He looked over the list again. Was it dill or oregano? The two spices looked almost the same when dried and he'd mistaken them once, making the spaghetti sauce he'd been making taste rather strange.

I really don't know, he realized and decided to simply leave the list as it was, unable to remember any more of the ingredients.

Martin returned some minutes later with a piece of paper.

"I finally found the recipe," he declared and sat at the table. "Now, let's see."

He hmm'd and ahh'd while he compared the two lists of ingredients.

"Yes, you did remember the most important items, peppers and meat. Tomato paste is correct as well and so is the onion.

"Take the straw and put it in the glass with your piss." Martin waited for Jonas to do so. "Now suck on it until the piss reaches the top, place your finger on the end of the straw so it blocks the opening. Keep it there and move the straw over above the empty glass. Now, remove your finger."

Jonas watched the small amount of pee vacate the straw he had sucked it up into. He had been careful not to let it reach his mouth. It hardly covered the bottom of the glass.

"Repeat that three more times," Martin instructed. "One for each correct item on your list."

Jonas did as he was told, ending up with about two cm [¾"] worth of pee in the glass that had started out empty.

"Cheese is correct too," Martin said and Jonas transferred yet another small measure of pee from one glass to the other. "And so is the rice."

There was still quite a lot of pee in the glass from which he was supposed to drink, Jonas saw, but he was nonetheless feeling somewhat pleased with himself for having been able to remove some of it.

"Ketchup? I'm sorry to say that's not on my list, kiddo. And just when you were doing so well."

"What?"

"It's wrong, kid."

"But I remember… I had ketchup with mine at school…"

"Maybe, yet it isn't part of the recipe so pour your piss back into the glass. All of it."

Jonas was ready to cry as he picked up the glass with the least amount of pee and carefully poured it into the other glass. The level rose back up to the brim.

"Salt and pepper are correct," Martin confirmed and Jonas picked up the straw. "Hold it," the man said just as the boy stuck the straw into the glass full of pee. "Dill isn't part of the recipe.

"So, as we agreed to, you'll be drinking that with your dinner tonight," he continued and pointed at the full glass.

Jonas removed the straw and sank down in defeat. I knew that, it was oregano! Fuck!

Martin picked up the mostly empty glass – there was only a very small amount of Jonas's pee in it – and looked down at the boy. "Since you've now dirtied this glass with your piss, for no reason I might add, you may as well finish relieving yourself in it."

Jonas accepted the glass without objection, he'd decided that for the moment it was best to just do as told, and placed it under the opening in the torture device. Again, he had to close his eyes and focus hard on relaxing so the pee would flow.

Martin remained on his chair and watched the boy struggling to pee. He was about to mock him for being unable to carry out his order when a small burst of liquid sprayed out from the stainless-steel coupling in the fake glans of the chastity device, settling into a slow-running stream.

The expression on Jonas's face was one of relief, the man noted. He has no idea of what I've planned for him, he thought, considering whether to tell him or not. No, that might ruin it. There was no real need for the boy to know, anyway; the things that Martin had planned, would happen, regardless.

Jonas had opened his eyes when the flow started and now felt his bladder run dry. The glass, he saw, was only a quarter full. He jiggled the torture device a few times, just like when he had sometimes shaken his penis to get the last drops of pee out of it, and then placed the glass on the table.

Timidly, he looked up at Martin, seeking the man's approval.

"Is that it?" Martin asked.

Jonas nodded.

"Drink it."

Though the pee in the glass didn't amount to more than a couple of swallows to drink up, Jonas hated the idea of drinking his waste water. He had asked Google if it was safe to drink pee and hadn't received a clear yes or no answer. Some websites claimed it was safe, while others said it wasn't.

Either way, he hadn't died from drinking pee, yet; and, he did know two things for certain.

It's bloody disgusting! he thought as he brought the glass to his mouth. And Martin won't change his mind.

He tipped his head back and quickly drank what was in the glass. The bitterness of the warm fluid nearly made him cough as he placed the empty glass back on the table.

"There," he gasped. "Done."

Not by a long shot, Martin thought, yet nodded to the boy. "Good," he said. "Now, follow me to the basement."

"Why?" Jonas asked, fearing the worst. He'd better not want to… He couldn't continue the thought.

"Before you go grocery shopping for dinner, I want you to clean out your arse," Martin explained, as if he were talking to a much younger child. "I've great plans for that part of your body.

"Tonight, you'll be used far more extensively than you have up to now. I do enjoy how tight you are, quite a lot, actually; I just don't want to bruise your arsehole," Martin explained. Not too much, anyway.

Jonas blinked.

"Your arse will be plugged most of the time until you leave in the morning. The plug only comes out for something else to go in.

"I'm doing it for your sake, more than mine," Martin asserted.

Jonas wasn't at all convinced; he didn't think having something stuck up his butt could be beneficial. Still, he meekly followed the man down the stairs. He felt certain that putting up a fight would only result in some kind of punishment, which undoubtedly would be much worse than having a plug inserted into his bum, and then he'd have to wear the plug, anyway.

Why did I ever ask him for help? he lamented, but it was much too late to reflect on past decisions; he couldn't change the present, no matter how much he wanted to do just that.

"This time," Martin continued in his no-nonsense-voice, as he picked up the pink hose, "Make sure you give yourself a good rinse, push the hose as far up your arse as it will go. See this mark?" he asked and pointed it out.

Jonas saw the black circle drawn on the hose, about halfway between the loose end and where it was fitted to the tap; he nodded.

"When that mark disappears up your arse, you'll know it's in far enough." Martin dropped the hose. "I'm not letting you out until you've got rid of all the nasty shit inside of you," he intoned, just before locking the boy inside the small bathroom.

Jonas examined the pink hose more thoroughly now that he was alone. The mark in question had obviously been made with a permanent marker and he estimated that the length of the hose he was supposed to insert in his bottom was about 40 centimetres [16 ¾"].

How's that going to work? he wondered and tried to picture where the end of the hose would end up inside of his body.

It'll reach my lungs! For a moment he feared he might drown, that his lungs would fill with the water from the hose. Wait, my lungs aren't connected to my bowels, he realized somewhat sheepishly, remembering part of his biology classes.

Nevertheless, as he squatted over the floor toilet, he expected the deep cleansing that Martin had ordered would be far worse than the last time he'd rinsed himself out and he gritted his teeth.

Chapter Thirty-One
The sleepover, part 2

Fuck, Jonas swore to himself when Martin let him out. I'll never do that again.

He had finally managed to work the hose into his bum and then even deeper into his bowels until he could no longer see the mark. It had taken him ten minutes; a period of time made much longer by the necessity of having to let the water run while he pushed the hose into his bum in small steps.

He tried not to dwell too much on the water that had squirted back out past the hose in his butthole and sprayed over his hand; it was somewhat warmer and much fouler after having been inside of him. He'd endured for another fifteen minutes, while he was hit by stomach cramps induced by the cold water reaching ever deeper inside of him, flushing out all evidence of what he had eaten during last night's dinner and that of the same morning's breakfast, too.

Finally, the water came out practically clean and Jonas had withdrawn the hose as quickly as he could while he squatted and waited for all the water to vacate his body.

The door was unlocked while Jonas was busy telling himself that he'd never give himself an enema like this again, and Martin threw a small towel to the boy.

Jonas dried himself and went with the man to the playroom. There was no fight in him; the cold water he'd taken deep within his bowels had left him feeling almost hollow inside, both physically and mentally. He plodded to where Martin pointed at the floor and took up position, standing fully naked and shivering next to the man.

Martin slid open the rightmost mirror-covered wooden door to his large cupboard, revealing six shelves with various sex toys. His hand reached in, momentarily stopping at the latest addition, the large buttplug in the shape of his little nephew's hand.

No, he decided. That'll only make him too loose. Although he wanted Jonas to be quickly and fully mountable with a moment's notice, he didn't want to widen the boy's arsehole too much.

He selected a smaller buttplug from one of the many sets he'd ordered online over the years. Though it was a mere 13 cm [5"] in length, the girth of the bulb that would sit inside Jonas's arse was quite substantial, as was the part that would hold open the lad's anus.

"Here," he said and held out the plug he'd selected to the boy. "Make yourself useful and push that up your arse. You'll want to use some of this to make it slippery."

Jonas took the proffered tube of lube and the plug. He nearly dropped the latter; it was much heavier than it looked. He pushed some lube onto his fingers and returned the tube, then stood indecisive.

What do I do now? he wondered. Certainly, either his bum or the plug needed to be lubricated for the latter to slide into him – although the plug did seem much too fat for that. Maybe it's better if I push my finger in first and…

"We haven't time for this," Martin decided and he put his hand on Jonas's naked chest and gave the boy a shove toward the bed.

"Hey!" Jonas yelped with surprise as he was forced to quickly take a large step backwards to stop himself from falling.

Martin ignored the outburst and gave the boy another shove, sending him another step backwards toward the bed.

"Stop it," Jonas whined as his calves touched the bed's cold wooden frame.

"Lie down on your back and lift your legs up like a baby being changed."

"Wait, what? No, I'm not… I won't…"

"You are!" Martin glared. "And you will. Am I right?"

Jonas looked up and made eye contact with the man. He squinted his eyes and pouted at him, but it didn't last long, less than a few seconds, before he sat on the bed, still sulking, but no longer looking at Martin.

"I thought so," the man said evenly as Jonas started to lay down.

"I'm not, though," Jonas said quietly as he brought his feet up and grabbed his legs behind the knees. I'm not a baby!

"You should be glad I don't have any diapers; you look quite ready for one laying like that. Give me the plug and push some of the lube up your arse."

Martin spread some lube on the plug while he watched Jonas impale himself with one of his fingers. The boy grimaced as he pushed the finger deeper inside.

"Don't dawdle," Martin ordered. "I know a sissy like you loves the feel of something in his arse and you'll definitely be able to feel this little puppy."

Jonas didn't have time to insert a second finger into his bum, he scarcely had time to get his hand out of the way before Martin pushed the fat plug inside of him.

"Ow!"

"It's already in. You're a natural bottom, kiddo."

"Can I get up now?"

"Yes."

Jonas was ordered to follow Martin back upstairs. He ended up standing in the same spot at the dining table while the man sat down.

"I want you to go to Rema [A supermarket]", Martin said, "and shop for the dinner tonight. You'll buy exactly what I've put on the list, nothing more, nothing less. You'll make sure you get the correct change. I want you to ask for the receipt so you can give it to me when you return," he instructed. "You'll wear your shorts, t-shirt, and your shoes."

"My sweater?" Jonas asked, trying to ignore the plug in his bum.

"That will be here waiting for you to put on in the morning, along with your underwear and socks."

"But it's freezing. I…"

"Do you want to go wearing only your shorts and shoes?"

Jonas sighed and begrudgingly took the shopping list and a 200 DKK bill [$30/27€] from Martin. The list had been made on the man's computer and printed, he saw, before looking up for further instructions.

"Put on your watch and get dressed. Take your phone with you when you leave. You will use it only to ring me and only if you have a question about the items on the list. Under no circumstances are you to ring anyone else or answer any calls, unless it is me calling you.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jonas mumbled and nodded.

"Get on, then," Martin bid.

The weather hadn't improved when Jonas left Martin's house; on the contrary, it felt and looked like it might start to rain at any given time.

He hurried along the street in the opposite direction to the bus stop where he got on the bus to go home, following the directions given by Martin just before he'd left the man's house.

End of the street go left, then take the first right, he reminded himself, clutching the folded-up bill and shopping list in his fist buried deep within his shorts' pocket. His thighs were cold, his knees even more. He shivered as he hurried along the sidewalk, head held low, his shoulders pulled up trying to shield his neck from the wind.

The plug shifted in his bum as he walked, the burning sensation from the insertion had died down and been replaced with a peculiar feeling. It felt wrong, although it didn't hurt and didn't impede his movement.

If I just try to walk normally no one will ever know I've got a giant cork up my bum, he told himself after reaching back and discovering his shorts covered everything.

The store revealed itself when he turned the corner and briefly looked up from the sidewalk, and he rushed into the supermarket, momentarily stopping in the entrance to pick up a wheeled shopping basket.

What a looney, Jonas thought to himself when he left the supermarket, still annoyed with the elderly man who'd stopped him to comment on the inanity of youth today and ask where his dim-witted parents were; if they knew how he'd left home dressed in clothes much too light for the weather. "Do you want to catch a cold?" the man asked, just before Jonas had managed to escape him.

Jonas's clothes had to be one of the last entries on the very long list of his problems.

His biggest problem, for instance, had to be that he was now on the way back to Martin's house, where he'd be forced to do things no boy of thirteen should ever have to do.

I just want to go home, he'd wanted to tell the old nagging man. I want to rip that cork from my arse and go home! I'll tell Mum and Dad that Martin got sick and that's why I'm…

But that wouldn't work. Martin would be infuriated and there'd be no telling what the man might do. Jonas thought about the pictures and videos, and the torture device; all things that he wanted to keep secret. At all cost, he vowed.

But, why didn't I tell the old dimwit to just mind his own business and leave me alone? Jonas wondered though he already knew the answer; it was very simple, really: he was much too shy to stand up for himself.

Fortunately, there were no more people who bothered him on the way back to his tormentor's house – the streets were deserted – and he quickly let himself in through the front door again.

He shivered violently as he carefully put the plastic shopping bag on the floor and started to undress.

"What will you do in winter?" Martin asked, appearing from his hobby room. "It's sixteen degrees [61F] out now and you're shaking as if it were freezing already."

"Will you not let me wear my jeans then?"

"Why would I? Young boys like you used to wear shorts all year round. They didn't get to wear long trousers until their confirmation. Do remind me, have you been confirmed?"

"No."

"Well, then, my young non-believer, I guess you won't be wearing long trousers."

"At all?"

"Not while you're my little boy, you won't."

Jonas couldn't come up with a response. He hated being treated like a small boy, but he assumed that was the only way Martin would 'go easier' on him.

"Speaking of," Martin went on. "You have hair sprouting in places that is unfit for a little child. Before you prepare our dinner, I think it's best if we remedy that."

Jonas was afraid to ask, but he couldn't help himself. "How?"

"I'm a firm believer in wax, but that'll take more time than we have now, unfortunately. Shaving would be another option, but that works best if done daily. With school starting, you won't be able to visit me so often as that."

Jonas let out a small sigh of relief when he heard Martin confirm his assumption of not having to go to the man's house every day after school.

"A weekly application of hair remover should help keep your body real smooth and little-boy like."

Jonas had a much harder time accepting this bit of news, though. "Ho-how much… My body hair? What…?"

"How much of your body hair will need to go, is that what you're trying to ask me?"

Jonas nodded, glumly.

"Why, all of it, of course. It would seem strange if you had hairy ankles when the rest of your body is completely smooth, don't you think?"

It wasn't his ankles that Jonas had been thinking of, yet he was much too shocked to speak.

"You shouldn't worry about little things like this," Martin said. "It's perfectly safe and I know what's best for you. I won't listen to any arguing; the decision's already been made."

"You're not my dad," Jonas blurted.

"No, you've got that absolutely right. Thankfully I don't have any kids of my own. I've quite enough problems with the little brat, thank you very much."

Jonas thought that Jackie was kind of sweet but before he could stand up for the kid, Martin carried on.

"Unwrap your little cock," the man said and placed the small key to the chastity device on the table. "But, remember, you won't be playing with it. Only the brat's allowed to do that and he's not around."

"When will he be here next?" Jonas asked as he fiddled with the small key. Talking about the little boy seemed like a good way to make the man forget about his body hair.

It's not like I'm super hairy or anything, he thought, rather displeased with that fact since some of the other boys in his class were much more advanced with small bushes growing above their penises and in their armpits – Jonas had noticed this in the showers after gym and games. Back then it hadn't caused him alarm although he had felt a bit envious but he'd told himself that his time would come.

Now, though, that he was about to lose every bit of what had managed to develop over the course of nearly fourteen years, no matter how little that was, he couldn't help but feel very jealous of his free classmates.

"Not any time soon," Martin replied. "I hope. I know my brother goes back to work on Monday, but I don't know if the brat's preschool has reopened yet.

"Why do you ask? Are you feeling randy, little one, keen to get him to play with your little sissy cock, eh?" the man asked as Jonas slowly pulled the catheter out of his urethra. "It's been some time since your last cum, hasn't it?"

Jonas shrugged. Removing the catheter had resulted in a renewed burning sensation on the inside of his penis and that quenched any desire to masturbate.

"You'll have to wait a while longer," Martin stated as Jonas started to work his penis and nuts through the narrow ring.

Back in the small basement bathroom that Jonas thought of as the slave washroom, the boy stood under the showerhead. The water wasn't running as he faced his tormentor standing in the middle of the room, opening a tube somewhat larger than a tube of toothpaste.

Both Jonas and Martin wore black latex surgical gloves, which fitted the man much better than the boy with his smaller hands.

"Hold out your hand, I'll help you," the man said. "It must be scraped off and the skin rinsed with water five minutes after you apply it. I don't think you can manage on your own," he explained as he compressed the end of the tube.

"Do I have to do this?" Jonas asked as he eyed the whitish foamy substance that Martin pushed out onto his latex-gloved palm.

"Yes, kiddo. You do. Start with your feet. Rub the salve into your skin, quickly, but thoroughly, and work your way up. You can skip your soles; hair doesn't grow there. Get it in between your toes, though."

Jonas bent over and crouched slightly so he could reach his feet. He hesitated long enough for Martin to clear his throat before he started to rub the substance into the skin on his left foot, anticipating a burning sensation that never came.

He shot upwards when he felt a hand on his backside.

"Skittish, aren't you?" Martin commented. "I'm only going to spread some of the cream over your little tushie," he explained and pushed down on Jonas's shoulder, forcing the boy to bend over again.

"I don't like this," Jonas said while he smeared his toes with the non-burning salve. He wondered how it worked and feared it wasn't safe despite Martin's assurances that it was.

"I don't care." Martin grazed the boy's arsehole as he made sure the white cream covered all the skin between the twin mounds. He reached further downward, wrapping his fingers around the two miniature testicles. He applied a bit of pressure as he massaged the boy's fragile stones.

Jonas hadn't expected Martin to stop; the man just wasn't like any other adult he'd had to deal with before. He was completely uncaring and cruel, indifferent to the suffering he caused. He had, however, hoped for a bit of comfort.

You could have said it'll be over soon, he thought. Would it kill you to be kind? I'm doing what you want me to, aren't I?

He dared not speak his mind, instead he moved his fingers up and smeared the cream on his ankles. Well, he thought wryly, There's no chance my ankles will be hairy after this.

Nor would his ballsack be hairy, not after the amount of attention it was receiving from Martin. Finally, Jonas felt the man abandon his balls and slide his hands back up, onto his back.

Jonas moved upward too, reaching his knees and then his thighs, leaving his skin glistening with the slightly frothy substance that didn't seem to do much of anything. He wanted to ask Martin if it really would work, if his fluff would really… Jonas wondered if his body hair would suddenly catch fire and smoulder away, and more importantly, if whatever happened to it would be painless.

He didn't ask, though, he didn't want the man to think that he was interested in what would happen as that might be mistaken for him being happy about losing his body hair. He just wanted to hurry, they'd already spent more than two minutes, he figured, and he'd only just reached the top of his thighs.

"Here, face me," Martin said as Jonas straightened out his back and stood up. "You're running low on cream." He squeezed out some more from the tube onto Jonas's palm. "Rub that on your belly and chest while I take care of your little worm."

Jonas gasped when Martin seized hold of his penis. The man held it tightly, squeezing the full length of it, as he coated it and the surrounding area with the hair removal crème. His groin and pubic area received as much attention as his arse had been given, if not more.

Martin had hoped for a reaction and Jonas didn't disappoint him. "Someone's liking this," the man remarked as he felt the small cock start to grow firmer and somewhat bigger. "You're turned on by the idea of being a hairless little boy, aren't you, kiddo?" he asked teasingly.

Jonas's cheeks turned pink with the humiliating accusation, that he felt was unjust, yet he couldn't deny that his penis was quickly growing into a throbbing erection.

"I'm not," he stated, nonetheless, telling the truth as far as he knew, but feeling slightly uncertain. Having his penis manipulated by Martin felt good, even though the man was only doing it to remove the scarcely visible hair sprouting on the slim stalk of it.

Jonas found himself hoping the action on his boner would continue for long enough for him to cum from it, but he'd only just completed the wistful thought when he felt Martin's fingers abandon his throbbing penis.

"I'd nearly forgotten how small it is," Martin commented. "Calling that useless little thing a cock is an insult to real cocks." He flicked the small foreskin-covered glans with his finger. "We'd better finish so you can put it back in its cage."

Jonas was standing under the old rusty showerhead, now being pummelled by cold water.

He and Martin had each used a small plastic scraper to remove most of the hair removal crème from the boy's body and now Jonas was removing the last of it with water and a coarse washcloth.

He scrubbed his face – Martin had insisted on putting some of the crème on his chin and his upper lip, on the bridge of his nose and both of his cheeks, and even onto his earlobes – and now he took extra care to not allow any of the crème into his eyes or mouth; Martin had warned him about that.

They'd been at it for much longer than the five minutes that Martin had said was the maximum allowed time, but still, the chemicals in the crème hadn't burned him. However, when he finally shut off the shower, he found himself completely void of hairs below his eyebrows.

His erection had vanished, too, he noted, much more pleased with this than losing the fluff that up until then had been his body hair.

"Towel yourself," Martin bid. The man hadn't left the room, he wouldn't leave Jonas alone while the boy had unrestricted access to his little 'thing'. "Be quick about it, I'm famished."

Chapter Thirty-Two
The sleepover, Part 3

Jonas stood with his head bowed, hands behind his back, the right hand's fingers loosely clasped around his left wrist. He was standing at the end of the dining table, while Martin sat at the table, eating the food that Jonas had prepared for him.

"You've overcooked them," Martin noted as he speared another of the stuffed peppers and transferred it onto his plate. "They're dry."

"Sorry," Jonas mumbled. You should have cooked them yourself, if you don't like them, he seared inwardly. He was hungry, too, not having eaten anything since he'd had a single slice of ryebread for lunch. He hadn't been able to eat anything from fear of what would happen at the sleepover.

What had happened so far was worse than he'd expected; the cold enema and the shower were about the least of his troubles, along with the miniscule metal chastity device that once again held his private parts prisoner.

Even the plug in his bum wasn't all that uncomfortable any longer, he scarcely noticed it now. His immediate concern was whether he'd be allowed to eat any of the six peppers he'd so diligently prepared to the best of his limited capabilities in a kitchen. Martin was on the third now, despite his complaint of them being dry.

"I followed the recipe," Jonas said in his defence.

"A good chef always tastes his food before serving it," Martin noted while chewing.

"You told me not to eat any of it!"

"You could have tasted without eating it." Martin took a draft of beer from his mug and swallowed what he had in his mouth, food and beer both, which disgusted Jonas.

"How?" he asked.

"Easy. Like this," Martin said and cut a big chunk out of the pepper and stuffed it in his mouth. He began to chew with exaggerated mouth movements, then took a small sip of his beer.

He chewed again, before he – much to Jonas's disgust – picked up the empty plate the boy had thought was for him and spat out all that he had in his mouth onto it.

Martin repeated the action; another chunk went into his mouth, was grinded into mush, a sip of beer mixed in, before it was spat out on the plate. He placed the plate in front of Jonas and put a fork next to it.

"Eat," the man ordered, curtly.

"Wait, what?" Jonas asked, flabbergasted. "You want… Me… Eat, that?"

"It's the only meal you'll be having until you leave tomorrow. I can guarantee that you'll be eating everything that's put on that plate, one way or another. The remaining peppers are for you. You should be pleased I'm adding some moisture before you must eat them, they really are very dry."

Jonas took a quick look at the plate. His throat tightened up and he grimaced with the repulsion he felt from the thought of eating the pulp that had bits of red and green and smaller brownish crumbs of minced meat and white rice. Some of Martin's saliva had to be in the mix, too, he knew, along with some of the beer that the man drank.

Jonas already knew that he didn't like beer, having had a sip from his dad's glass on the trip to Crete. The beer Martin was drinking with his dinner was much darker than what the boy had tried and he assumed that meant it would taste so much worse, too.

"I won't," Jonas said, already bracing for the reaction to his quiet defiance.

"I beg your pardon? Did you just say that you won't eat your dinner?"

"Yes," Jonas whispered on the verge of tears. He was very afraid but under no circumstances would he eat the mush on the plate in front of him.

"Your parents have spoiled you. There are kids in parts of the world who'd kill to eat this."

"They can have it, then. I don't care," Jonas said, somewhat louder now, his courage building. "I won't eat it," he added with emphasis.

"I can hear you need a little motivation. I have just the thing for that. Are you sure you want me to fetch it?"

Jonas folded his arms across his chest. He stood there silently, in passive rebellion.

"Excellent!" Martin's response confused Jonas. He had expected the reprimands to continue. Instead, the man sounded excited as he rose from the table.

"Stay where you are, my little Gandhi," Martin ordered, almost kindly. "I'll be back before you know it."

Jonas wondered who or what a Gandhi was, if he should feel offended by the word that he didn't know. He felt somewhat better with his decision now that Martin wasn't sitting right next to him. No matter what he does, he can't make me eat that crap.

He eyed the three whole peppers still sitting on the tray, wondering if he might have enough time to eat them before Martin returned. Although he certainly didn't want to eat the mush on the plate in front of him, he didn't want to go to bed hungry, either.

He was almost reaching out for the tray when he heard Martin return. He didn't deign the man a look just tensed his muscles and reinforced his stance.

"Don't move," he heard Martin say, which he was more than happy to do. He felt a very brief prick on his left buttock that was immediately followed with a loud 'brzzt' sound.

"Ow!" he yelped, reacting to a stinging pain from his butt cheek.

"Amazing, isn't it, what two small batteries can do. If you were a fly, you'd be dead now," Martin said.

He'd converted an ordinary racquet-style bug zapper by cutting off the oval head holding the electrified steel wire, ending up with only the handle and a very short shaft. On this shaft, he'd glued a 3D-printed tip. This tip held two pointed prongs, connected to the electronics in the handle, much like a taser or a cattle prod, though far from as powerful as one of those.

He touched the tip of the bug zapper to the lad's other pale buttock while he held down the power button, and immediately, another 'brzzt' sounded, followed by a new yelp from the boy.

"Stop it!" Jonas said, reaching back to rub his buttocks. He was more irritated than really hurt, even though it did sting quite a lot, much like having his skin pinched between two fingernails.

"I'll stop when you agree to eat your dinner," Martin said, quickly touching the boy's right nipple, resulting in another 'brrzzt'. He held down the power button for a little longer this time, resulting in the current flowing for longer, too.

Jonas whimpered with the pain from his nipple, this felt so much more intense than the two nips on his backside. He could now see the instrument of torture being used on him.

"No," he wailed when he saw the electrodes approach his chest, but he couldn't react quickly enough to prevent Martin from pushing them against his skin right above his sternum. He was zapped again almost before he registered the contact. "Fuck!"

"Such language," Martin commented. "I wonder what will wear out sooner, your perseverance or the batteries. The instructions claim they will last for one thousand uses."

"I'll never eat that," Jonas vowed, rubbing his nipple and his chest where he'd been stung by Martin.

"So, you'd rather stand here and let me use this wherever I want?" the man asked and zapped the boy's earlobe.

"Ayiee," Jonas howled, cupping his ear protectively. "Ow, shit, that hurts."

"This is so much fun." Martin was delighted that he had come up with a way to inflict pain that didn't leave any marks on his youngest sub. "Where do you think it'll hurt the most?" he asked, feigning an attack to the boy's midsection.

"Stop," Jonas pleaded as he tried to evade the bug zapper. It zapped the tip of his little finger, numbing it. "Nooo!" he cried, clasping his hand with the other. He fell to the floor and curled up in a ball, lying on his side, trying to make himself as scarce a target as he could.

"I told you to stand still," Martin said. He got down on his knees next to Jonas and placed his hand on the boy's uppermost buttock.

Jonas flinched, believing he was about to be zapped again; he firmed up his buttocks, on instinct. "Leave me alone," he bade.

"No." Martin's thumb grazed the plug that Jonas still had in his arse as he forced the lad's buttocks apart. He pressed the electrodes into the slightly darker skin right next to the plug and pushed the button.

'Brrrrrrzzzt!' He let the current flow for a full second.

Jonas squealed, straightening out his body as if he were a curled-up spring letting go. He rolled over onto his back, both hands under his bum, rocking from side to side, whimpering softly.

"Well, I think we may have found our winner," Martin remarked. "What do you say, little Gandhi? Will you end your foolish rebellion now and do as you are told?

"Or, do I need to fetch the key for your cock cage so we can test this bad boy on your little sissy cock? I wonder if stinging your foreskin will hurt you more than having your bared cock head zapped."

"Go to hell." The curse came out in a whisper.

"I thought you didn't believe in heaven or hell, kiddo. But, alright," Martin said and noted how Jonas lay on the floor.

The boy's middle was pushed up as he was still cupping his buttocks. The ring around the lad's scrotum propped the small nuts further outward, making for a good target that Martin couldn't ignore.

"First this," he said and held down the power button as he poked the tip of the zapper against the stretched-out skin just above one of the boy's balls.

It felt to Jonas as if he'd been kicked in the balls. He let out a short scream as he rolled back onto his side and curled up again.

"We can go on like this all night long," Martin promised. "Oh, look, you've left your arse wide open again."

Jonas moaned in response to that information, but he wasn't zapped like he expected.

"Are you going to be a good little boy and eat your dinner?"

"Yes," Jonas whimpered.

"Then get up and sit on the chair next to me."

Jonas slowly uncurled his body and stood up. Already, most of the pain had vanished, though his ball still tingled from the shock. He sat on the chair, avoiding Martin's stare and refusing to look at the plate holding the disgusting mush that Martin had spat onto it.

Martin moved the plate over and picked up his fork. He loaded it with a small portion of the pulp.

"Open wide," he told Jonas.

"What?" Jonas asked, vexed. "I can eat it myself." He didn't want to, but at least he knew how.

"With your recent behaviour, throwing a toddler tantrum, kiddo, I think it's best if I feed you," Martin explained. "So, open your mouth."

Jonas had to suffer the humiliation of being spoon-fed like a small baby – although Martin used a fork – and swallow the vile mush as he battled the desire to throw up. The taste wasn't nearly as bad as he'd imagined although the texture reinforced the knowledge that he was eating something that had already been chewed on. That it was also mixed with the saliva from the man he hated most of all was making him feel very queasy.

After the first five forkfuls – Martin was only feeding Jonas a small morsel at a time, making sure to prolong the humiliating experience – the plate was empty and Jonas thought he was done and would be allowed to eat the remaining three peppers.

They're all cold now, he supposed, but felt sure they'd make for a much more enjoyable meal than the pre-chewed mush he'd been fed.

To Jonas's great disappointment, however, Martin chewed every bit of them into the same revolting pulp with quite a lot of beer added, before the man started to feed him any of it. He wasn't allowed to stop eating until twenty minutes later when the plate was polished clean.

"Right," Martin said as he put down the fork. He pushed the glass full of Jonas's cold piss over in front of the boy. "Now, drink that, then load up the dishwasher with all of this and everything you've used in the kitchen."

Jonas was led to the basement after he'd finished tidying up the kitchen.

"Hop up on the bed," Martin ordered. As he was wielding the modified bug zapper, he'd brought down with him, Jonas didn't dare defy him, but simply got up on the bed.

"Not like that. Let your feet hang off the edge of the mattress. Bring your knees together," Martin instructed as he went and fetched three long pieces of rope and a leather belt. "Don't move!"

He started to wind the rope around Jonas's ankles and tied them to the centre D-ring in the bed's frame. He secured the belt around the boy's waist and tied this to the posts on either side of the boy. Lastly, he tied the boy's wrists to the two remaining posts of the four-poster bed, leaving the boy lying in a kneeling, almost prostate, position on the mattress.

"Comfortable?" he asked as he went over to the large cupboard. "Can you sleep like that?"

"No," Jonas whined, tugging at the ropes that wouldn't budge.

"Pity. I'm going to leave the lights on, but I'll put a blindfold on you, so you shouldn't be bothered by that."

"What? You want me to sleep like this? For real?"

"Yes. Well, I promised you I wouldn't keep you up all night and I promised your mother I'd have you in bed by a quarter past nine at the latest. Whether you sleep or not is up to you," Martin said and with those words he placed the blindfold on Jonas's head and made sure it couldn't be removed by the boy.

"Sleep tight."

Jonas heard the man's footsteps as he left the room, then the four quiet beeps from the door lock. He heard the door close. Then… silence. Complete and utter silence.

He burped and the taste of stale pee spread in his mouth as he listened to the sound of his own rapid breathing.

Chapter Thirty-Three
The sleepover, Part 4

Jonas never knew just how long he lay blindfolded on the bed in the basement that evening of his sleepover at Martin's house.

At first, he had been extremely afraid and had focused on his hearing, listening for sounds, and analysing the few he heard. There was a sporadic and very faint repetitive clicking sound; from where he couldn't tell, nor what it meant. He thought he heard a cabinet being closed somewhere above him, or perhaps a door, or maybe it was just his imagination running wild.

The one thing he never did hear was the heavy basement entrance door opening, which was what he wanted to hear most of all.

Is he really going to leave me here? Like this? All night? he wondered. The idea was terrifying. His shoulders were already aching and his thighs too, but he couldn't shift his position more than a few centimetres in any direction and that wasn't quite enough to relieve the discomfort he felt. I'll never fall asleep like this.

Yet, as the minutes slowly ticked away, turning into a quarter of an hour, half an hour and more, the day started to take its toll on him and he began to doze off.

He reawakened with a jolt when he tried to move into a more comfortable position and was prevented from doing so by the tight ropes. He laid there, awake for some time, listening for sounds, before he dropped off again. This happened a couple of more times until, inevitably, he fell asleep for real.

Jonas dreamt that he was the young son of a poor peasant, paying homage to a passing queen. He was lying prone on his knees by the side of the only cobbled street in the small village, outside which he'd lived for all his life. He had laid there from early morning, afraid he might miss the young queen or worse, that someone else might take his place.

He was desperately hoping the queen would notice him, that she would talk to him and that she would offer to help him and his family.

And suddenly, there she was, along with her large entourage, knights in heavy plated armour on their mounts and servants on foot. He mashed his forehead more firmly into the ground below and he could scarcely breathe from all the dust.

Just as quickly as the long convoy had appeared in the street, he found himself surrounded by townspeople, some of whom were his friends, others not so. One of the latter snuck up behind him and fondled his rump and the slightly older boy wasn't the least worried about everyone being able to see.

"Leave me," he said in the dream, keeping his head down as he'd been taught and trying to sound intimidating, but the words left his mouth in a high-pitched pig-like whine that only served as cause for peals of laughter and general amusement; even the queen was giggling politely behind her gloved hand in her curtained carriage.

In the basement, in the real world, Jonas's words were but a mumble, almost a moan.

The hand on his hind quarters was very real, though.

Jonas woke when another hand joined the first and began to knead his buttocks.

"What a beauty," he heard someone say, someone he instantly knew wasn't Martin. "Got an arse like a ten-year-old boy," the voice went on, approvingly. "Thank you for this opportu…"

"Don't talk," Jonas heard; this voice he immediately recognized as that of his tormentor. "Just get on with it."

"Wha…?" he groaned, still half-asleep.

"Sleeping beauty is waking," the first, unknown, voice remarked, and Jonas felt a sharp pain in his butthole; someone was tugging on the plug nested inside of him.

Another, harder tug, and the plug was pulled out of him with no regard to his wellbeing.

"Oorh," he groaned, but just like his dream, the sound was high-pitched. "Oouw." The moan sounded more like his usual self.

"Shush, youngling. You haven't felt anything yet. I'm going to fuck you bloody," the voice told him, ominously. He felt something warm poking painfully at him, trying to gain purchase in his arse, but slipping upwards past the entrance.

"You'll do no such thing," Martin said, firmly, and Jonas heard a loud wallop, followed by a short moan. "Remember your place, cunt."

"Yes, Master." The first voice now sounded apologetic, almost to the point where Jonas thought it sounded fake. He was waking up now, properly.

The reprimand proved efficient. The unknown man wasn't trying to shove his cock into Jonas's bum any longer; instead, the boy felt a finger slide down along his tailbone and when it found its target, it started to slide slowly into his hole.

All the same, Jonas clenched down hard. He didn't want to be fucked by anyone, not by Martin and certainly not by some unknown man.

"So tight," he heard, but the man wasn't deterred. He pushed more firmly into Jonas's hole, making the boy whimper with pain.

"Relax your hole, bitch," Martin ordered. "Remember our agreement. Don't make me spank you, too."

"It hurts," Jonas complained. "Leave me alone."

"Master promised I could fuck your lovely arse," the unknown man said, querulously. "So shut up!"

Jonas felt a second finger push into him next to the first. He had to relax his hole, it burned so much down there.

"Good," the man commended. "Oh, you'll feel so good around my cock. Thank you, Master."

"Your cage goes back on in ten minutes," Martin said. "So, make good use of your time. But, remember, you can only use the rear entry."

"Aw, did you hear that? I'm not allowed to please you. But you know what? That's just fine with me. Your back passage is so splendidly tight."

Jonas felt the fingers go deeper inside of him and he bucked against the restraining ropes. "Why-yy?" he wailed.

"Because you're Master's little fuck toy. I was a very good slave for Master and he's rewarding me by letting me fuck you. Now, keep your arse relaxed, let me get my cock in. You can tighten back up once I'm in."

"Shut up and fuck her!" Martin growled.

Jonas felt the fingers vacate his bum and hissed disapprovingly when he felt the pointed end of the man's cock return to his bum hole. He couldn't prevent it from spearing into him, sliding on a film of lube.

"Noo!" he cried out, now finally understanding he was about to be fucked, despite his objections to it.

"Yesss," the unknown man whispered.

"Martin! Please, stop him," Jonas pleaded while more and more of the unknown man's cock was relentlessly being pushed inside of his bum.

"I should have gagged you," Martin said. "This is what I get for being nice."

"I really like her begging, Master."

Her? Jonas thought. This was the second time he'd been referred to as a female. Ow… Her? He thinks I'm a… Another push and he could feel the man's groin mash up against his buttocks. "I'm not a…" he started, indignantly, but was cut short by a stinging blow to the rear of his head.

"You will shut up," Martin warned. "The both of you. No more talking."

"But… He thinks I'm a… And I'm not… I'm a boy!" Jonas wailed, shouting the last part. He didn't care what Martin would do to him if only he could stop the unknown man from hurting him.

"I told you to keep quiet!" Martin blared.

"A boy?" the unknown man asked. "What's going on?"

Jonas heard a rustling sound, like a Velcro band being ripped apart.

"Oh shit," the man cursed and Jonas felt a tug on the blindfold wrapped around his head. "Oh no, no, no!"

It came undone and Jonas blinked in the sharp light from the overhead lamps. He looked up behind him, squinting at the light, seeing the contours of the man's head. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to see the details of the man's face and he saw a blindfold hanging from his neck.

"You?" the boy asked, bewildered. The last person he could have imagined was looking back down at him, just as shocked, if not more so.

"You're a kid!" The man groaned, looking stricken. Jonas felt a gentle and very brief touch on his balls before the man removed his hand as if shocked by lightning.

"You're not a small woman, you are… A boy." The man was visibly shaken. Jonas felt the man's penis start to wilt inside of him.

"You're a cop!" Jonas blurted, his understanding of the world rapidly changing yet again. "I've seen you before," he stated, just as he felt the man starting to pull out of him.

"Hold it," Martin ordered. "You're not done, cunt face."

The cop froze in place and looked at Martin.

"Oh, we're done, alright," he said. "I don't know what you're thinking… Is that a cock cage on him? My God. How old is he, anyway, ten? Eleven?"

"I'm thirteen!" Jonas said just before Martin started to talk.

"We're nowhere near done. You'll continue to fuck the little sissy, are we clear?"

"Fuck no, man, this is crazy. We're so far past my limits that…"

"Oh, screw your limits. I know what you crave for, Kurt. Tough cop at day, whiny bitch at night. Yes, you see, I know everything about your profile on that pathetic dating site you frequent. Looking for someone to blackmail you, keep you in chastity, make you their slave… Am I right, Mr Secret Cop Slave?"

"How the hell…? Are you monitoring my computer, you crazy mother…?"

"And your phone. Yes! Consider this your wildest dream come true, slave!"

The cop's cock had gone completely soft and slipped out of Jonas's arse sometime during the arguing with Martin. Despite the cop's attempts of denial, Jonas could feel the man's penis start to reinflate as he was taunted and belittled by Martin. He could scarcely understand what was going on.

Cops are supposed to help people, he thought, as that was what he'd been told by his parents. A policeman had once visited his school and told the kids that if they ever got in trouble, they could always call the police for help. Exactly what his parents had told him, too.

The cop behind him – according to everything that Jonas had been told about cops – should really be apprehending Martin right there and then. He should also rescue Jonas and bring him home to his parents, as that was what cops did. Supposedly.

Instead, this strong and athletic cop, Kurt, had tried to shove his hard cock into the boy's bum, and pushed his fingers up inside of him, followed by the whole of his cock, at a slower pace, yes, but it had still hurt.

The cop's cock was fully hard now, apparently fuelled by Martin's insults. Jonas could tell, because the cop was still leaning over him and the man's cock was now pushing firmly up against one of his buttocks.

"Fuck the sissy," Martin goaded. "Let's see if you're more than just talk."

"I can't do this," Kurt said in a slightly quavering voice. "It's… He's just a kid. I'm not a child molester."

"You are what I tell you you are! Or should we ask your colleagues what they think you are? I'll send them bits from the video footage… That moment while your head is exposed and Jonas is still blindfolded tells a story, you know. I can extend that moment, like this," he said and snapped his fingers. "I'll replace the audio and I'll make sure to include you asking how old he is and his answer.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear how you're going to convince them that you were tricked into doing this and that you're completely innocent. What will your mother say? Remember telling me how proud she was when you graduated from the police academy? Do you think she'll be proud of you when she has to come visit you in prison?"

"You're done, Martin, I don't…" Kurt said. The cop had a renewed firmness to his voice and Jonas thought that was exactly how a real cop should sound. He hoped this meant the cop was going to rescue him after all and make sure Martin would pay for all the bad things the man had done to him. Still, the cop's penis was throbbing, which kind of contradicted his words.

"No, Cunt," Martin said, in a tone of voice that instantly snuffed out the inkling of hope Jonas had managed to build up. "I'm far from done. If I go do down, bitch, I'm taking you with me. Imagine your time in prison. I bet you'll have to serve every day in isolation, the other inmates would use you like a punchbag. Cop and child molester. Not a great combo, if you ask me."

"I can't…"

"You will. I'm not kidding, Kurt. Besides, the kid came to me, willingly, wearing a chastity device which he had meticulously adjusted to fit himself. He'd permanently locked it."

Jonas looked back over his shoulder and saw the cop looking back down at him and their eyes met.

"I'm sorry kid. I don't want to do this…" he said in a soft voice and Jonas couldn't believe his ears.

"But you will," Martin added, firmly.

"You must try to see things from my point of view," the cop continued. "You understand what it's like, don't you? You're a sub just like me…"

Jonas shook his head. "Please, don't…"

"Do it!" Martin said loudly and icily. "Enough talking, get on with it."

"Yes, Master," Kurt said and Jonas started to sob.

"Please, you must help me," he begged, but the cop was already aligning his cock with the boy's arsehole. "No-oo!" he wailed when he felt it push at his backdoor again.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said as he pushed harder. "Oh, so tight. It'll be over before you know; I've only been allowed anal orgasms for ten months," he explained but Jonas wasn't listening any more. The cop wasn't going to help and that made everything he had to say irrelevant.

"More action and less talk, cunt!" Martin ordered. "This is BDSM, not vanilla. Sissy, stop making so much noise!"

"But it hu-urts," Jonas squealed.

"Keep fucking the little bitch," Martin sternly ordered as he placed the small video camera he'd been holding on a tripod.

"Yes, Master," the cop gasped, slowly moving his hips back and forth. He was already on the brink of climaxing and kept his thrusts shallow.

Martin leaned in over the side of the bed and grabbed a handful of Jonas's auburn locks before he started whispering into his left ear: "Now, you listen to me, sissy. Stop your crying, it fucking ruins the mood. You can moan and groan from pain but your ridiculous sobbing makes you sound like a little toddler.

"Tell me, is that how you want to be treated from now on? Like a little baby? Because, if that's what you want, I'll have to order some diapers for you. Lots and lots of them. And other baby stuff in your size."

Through the pain he felt, Jonas looked sceptical, he didn't think that you could buy diapers and such in his size. Martin immediately picked up on it.

"Trust me, stuff like that does exist, but it costs lots of money and I know you can't pay for any of it, which means I would have to pay. That would make me extremely angry and I'd want to punish you for making me spend all that money on you. Hard! Is that what you want?"

Jonas let out another sob. "No-o," he cried. "But…"

"Do I need to find a gag and strap it on you, so your pretty face gets all covered up? Is that what you want, so you can continue being a big cry-baby? In that case, I'll order a large box of diapers for you right after I kick out Mr Not-So-Tough-Cop when he's done fucking you."

"Please, it hu…"

"I don't care if it feels like he's tearing your arsehole apart. Yes, his cock is much longer than mine, which is quite ridiculous seeing as he doesn't want to use it, but it isn't so enormous that you need to let the entire city know you're being fucked."

Jonas alternated between groaning and moaning, but he was no longer pleading for the cop to stop hurting him; he had accepted begging was futile. Martin's threats of putting him in diapers and treating him like a baby kept him from crying. Mostly, anyway. The cop's penis reached deeper within his bowels than Martin's ever had and it hurt so badly that Jonas wanted to scream from it.

He managed to keep his sounds of protests down to mainly soft whimpers, although from time to time a sob escaped his mouth but he quickly cut them off.

"It's all about motivation," Martin said from behind the camera he had picked up again. "Fuck him faster, deeper. Grind your groin up against his arse with every thrust. Make him feel just how long your good-for-nothing cock is."

"I'm about to cum, Master."

"This soon? You really are pathetic. Well, don't cum inside of him! I want you to pull out just as you're about to cum and unload all over his little arse."

The cop started to fuck harder and faster, ending each inward stroke by smashing his pubic bone up against Jonas's arse, grinding his groin against the boy before pulling back out only to repeat the action a second later.

Jonas sobbed now, he couldn't stop, it hurt so much when the cop smashed up against his bound body and the grinding action made sure the long penis reached as far inside of him as it could.

Please cum, he begged silently. Just hurry up and cum.

And then, he felt a change in the cop, a quiver, and another. The man's cock jumped deep inside of him.

"Oh fuck," the cop moaned as his orgasm set in. He shot off once before he realized what was happening and quickly pushed at Jonas's shoulders. Another jet of sperm shot from his cock before he could yank it out from the boy's sloppy arse, and then a third stream shot out, landing on Jonas's arse and his lower back.

"Orrrh," Kurt groaned as a few final trickles of sperm oozed from his urethra.

"You worthless cunt!" Martin bellowed, frightening Jonas so much that he started to softly cry again. "I told you not to cum inside of him!"

A thunderous crack sounded throughout the room, reverberating from the bare concrete walls, instantly followed by another.

"Eeeh!"

"What happens when you don't listen?" Martin roared.

"I g-get puh-punished," Kurt stammered, his voice quivering with pain.

"That's right," Martin agreed and another crack rang out in the room.

Jonas was so afraid he thought he might wet the bed, but he couldn't help looking up and behind him when he heard another crack followed by a new howl.

The cop was mewling and Jonas saw the reason why.

Martin held a one-metre-long [3'] black riding crop in his hand, whipping the cop's bare bum.

The cop's cock was still erect, bopping in front of him, dripping sperm, Jonas noticed, and the boy saw that the man's pubis was as bare as his own.

"Get on your knees, Cunt. You'll lick every single drop of your filthy sperm from my sissy's skin. I don't want him polluted with your inferior slime," Martin ordered, punctuating it with another blow at the man's arse; based on the sound, this was the hardest strike yet.

"Yeoow!" Kurt howled and sunk down on his knees with a double thud that made Jonas wince with sympathy.

The boy jerked forward as he felt a touch on his bum, believing that Martin had shifted his attention and was now using the crop on him. The touch didn't hurt, though, and soon he felt a soft, moist warmness on his lower back. The cop was licking his cum up as if he were a dog.

"Better," Martin said, moments later. "Now, you need to deal with the slime you shot inside of him," the man instructed and Jonas felt his buttocks being gently pried apart.

"Sissy!" Martin barked and Jonas jumped in his restraints again. "When you feel Cunt start to suck, I want you to strain as hard as you can and push out his filthy slime," the man ordered.

Jonas wondered what Martin meant and then he felt the cop's lips on his bum hole. Oh! he realized as he felt the man start to suck. That's sick!

He didn't want to be beaten with the black riding crop by Martin, though, no matter how revolting the idea of pooing into someone's mouth seemed to him. He took some comfort from knowing that he ought to be practically clean inside and was extremely happy that the roles weren't reversed.

I'd never be able to do that, Jonas thought. The sensation of the cop's sucking on his rear hole felt extremely strange but what the man had been charged to do was so bizarre that the boy lacked the words to describe what he thought about it.

He bore down, tentatively, afraid he might get a taste of the crop if he didn't, and learned that it took considerable effort to rid himself of the slime the man had deposited within his bowels. One complication was the unusual position he found himself in; he had never, so far as he could remember, moved his bowels while lying on his knees in a bed. The other and much worse complication was knowing that everything he pushed out would be going straight into the cop's mouth.

Oh, it's so revolting! Jonas winced as he bore down harder.

Chapter Thirty-Four
The sleepover, Ending

"Is he all clean now?" Martin asked.

The question made Jonas grimace, it made him feel like a much smaller boy, one whose opinion either didn't matter or simply couldn't be trusted.

The cop behind him nodded without removing his lips from the boy's arse.

"Use your fingers and make his hole gape wide open again," Martin ordered.

"Master, I don't…" the cop objected, quietly.

Martin growled and used the black riding crop on the man's arse again. "You will do what I tell you, Cunt!" He punctuated his warning with another blow of the short whip that he made sure to land across the raised welts.

The cop yelped loudly in response.

"Remember, I can end your career and put you in jail… Ah yes, that's better. Seduce his little hole, make it relax. Convince it that all is well."

Jonas was on edge, yet his sphincter was enticed by two of the cop's fingers, switching between slowly circling the anal muscle and slipping inside of him. Gradually, his bum hole loosened up in response to the gentle action.

"Now, stick your tongue in. Far as you can. Make him moan like the little bitch he is," Martin instructed, moving the video camera closer in as he filmed everything that took place.

Jonas baulked. "I'm not a little bitch," he said and clamped up his hole around the cop's fingers.

"Enough!" Martin roared. "Get up, Cunt. I'm through with you for now."

"But…? I haven't… You won't…?" the cop asked, nervously.

"You're safe," Martin promised. "For now. Let's go upstairs so you can pay me what you owe for this and you can get on your way."

"I already put the money on the table…" Kurt said as he followed Martin to the heavy steel door.

"I think you'll agree with me when I say you've got far more than you expected tonight?"

"Well, yes."

"So, you won't complain about having to pay extra for the services rendered, I trust…?" Jonas heard Martin ask and then the door shut, cutting off the rest of the two men's conversation.

Martin's asking him to pay more because he got to… Do that to me, Jonas realized. It isn't fair, Martin never did anything. I should be paid…

But he didn't want that. Accepting money would make it seem like he was okay with being used like that, which he certainly wasn't. He tugged at his restraints again, wishing he could break free from them, or at least get into a more comfortable position. When they stubbornly refused to budge, not even just a tiny little bit, Jonas let out a low wail of misery.

"Why?" he lamented. "Why me?"

When Jonas's tears ran dry, he started to drop off again. The ache in his bum had decreased a bit, although he certainly could tell it had been used by the cop. He was still puzzled by what the man had done to him, it went against everything he'd been taught about the police. He was just too tired to mull about it any longer and he only wanted to go back to sleep.

"Maybe it'll all feel like a bad dream in the morning," he mumbled, wistfully, as he closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath and let it all back out in a long sigh.

Just then, he heard the entrance door unlock. He kept his eyes shut, hoping that he would be allowed to sleep. He was so tired. His cheek was sticking to the latex sheet on the bed but he didn't care enough to do something about it.

"So, sissy," he heard Martin's gentle whisper, the man's moist breath playing on his ear. "Seeing you with Kurt the Cunt made me so hot and bothered. What do you suggest we should do to fix that?"

"Take a cold shower," Jonas proposed, mumbling tiredly. Do whatever you want, just let me sleep.

"Heh," Martin chuckled. "I suppose that just might work. It does sound rather unpleasant, however. No, I have a much better idea," he said and stuck his tongue in Jonas's ear.

"Argh!" Jonas screeched with disgust from the wet and unexpected sensation. He promptly turned his head.

"Stop! It tickles!" the boy cried out when his other ear came under attack. "Ugh, it's so gross," he continued and rubbed the side of his head against the sheet.

"Wake up, sissy," Martin ordered, still speaking softly. "I only want to play with you for half an hour. When I'm done, I'll untie the ropes and let you sleep for the rest of the night."

"What will you do?" Jonas asked, warily. "Not the whip," he pleaded.

"So long as you behave, I won't be using that on you. I'd hate to ruin the skin on your milky-white arse.

"No, I'm just going to remind you that I'm your alpha male. You're already in position, it's just a question of doing this," Martin said and guided his engorged cock to the boy's arse hole. When everything was lined up properly, he started to apply moderate pressure.

"Oow," Jonas whimpered from the burning sensation of Martin's cock starting to enter his bum without the aid of lube. "No! Stop! I'm too sore… It hu-uurts."

"Hush, sissy. You'll feel all better in a moment. Relax and let me in. Forget Kurt and let your man use you. Come now, kid. Relax!" Martin urged and pushed harder. "Let… Me… In!"

Finally, with three hard shoves, Martin's cock was as far inside Jonas's tight arse as it would go.

"I'll try to make this last for a while," the man promised, although he was puffing for breath already. "I'll make you forget all about the cunt. I'll impregnate you with my alpha sperm. I'm really going to fill you up this time," he assured as he started to rock back and forth.

Jonas gasped too, every thrust, both inward and outward, hurt him. The friction lessened as fluids from inside of him started to lubricate his smarting opening, but it still hurt. He couldn't help but groan when the man upped the tempo.

"Oh, yes!" Martin sighed happily. "You're starting to like it, aren't you? Just wait and see; you'll love being pounded by my cock before I'm done with you."

Jonas let out a sob. He wondered if he should make it appear that he enjoyed having the man's fat cock slide deep into his bum; he hoped that doing so might make the man tire of him more quickly. Alas, it hurt far too much, especially when Martin started to hump faster and more forcefully into the rear end of his bound body.

Every time the man pulled on Jonas's hips, his arms stretched out in front of him, bound as they were to the far posts of the bed and it felt like his shoulders would dislocate. The belt around his waist cut deep into his skin when Martin's forward strokes were abruptly stopped by the ropes tied to it and then it would all start over again.

"Please," Jonas begged. Stop! he added silently.

It was no use, though, Martin was deaf to the boy's pleas, focusing entirely on his own needs.

"I'll fill you up, sissy, completely," he promised, his speech ragged. "And then I'll plug your arse back up. I'll tie your hands so you won't be able to pull it out.

"You'll fall asleep with my seed deep inside of you and when you wake in the morning your body will have absorbed it all. And then, more of me will be part of you, forever."

Jonas whimpered in response. He absolutely abhorred the idea of Martin becoming part of him but he couldn't do anything to avoid it; he couldn't break free from the sturdy ropes and he couldn't make Martin stop. He knew that, yet he decided to try one last time.

"Please, Martin," he beseeched. "I'll do anything…"

"Don't go making promises you can't keep, boy. Besides, I want this. I'll… Make you… Mine!" Martin said and gasped. "I can't last much… Longer now."

The man upped the tempo again, eagerly pursuing his climax. His pelvis fairly crashed into Jonas's buttocks as he rabbit-fucked the boy. He pounded the bound lad for a couple of minutes longer until his scrotum and perineum began to contract. He grunted loudly as his sperm started to erupt from his cock head deep within the boy.

"Noo!" Jonas wept, futilely, as he felt the wetness grow within him. "Stop!"

Martin ignored Jonas's pleas and just clasped the boy's hips as his cock kept spurting volley after volley of potent sperm. He held on to the boy long after his orgasm subsided, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal and catching his breath.

"Clamp up your hole, sissy," he ordered. "I'll use the whip on you if any of my sperm comes out when I remove my cock."

Jonas willed his hole shut, ignoring the renewed pain this caused while Martin extracted his cock.

"Keep it like that," he was ordered and soon he felt a sudden coldness poking into his bum hole.

"Don't," he pleaded, even as it probed deeper, forcing his hole to splay open, much wider than Martin's cock had. "Yeow!" he screeched when the pain grew beyond past levels.

"Hush, it's nearly in," Martin said. "Just one more push. There!"

"Fuck!" Jonas swore.

The man chuckled. "I don't think you're quite ready for that, yet. How about I fuck you before I send you home in the morning, instead?"

Jonas didn't answer, all of his energy was spent on adjusting to the large cold mass that now occupied his arse.

When Martin was satisfied that the plug had seated itself inside the boy properly, he placed a leather collar around the boy's neck, then untied the lad.

"Leave it," he warned when Jonas reached backwards for the plug and grabbed one of the lad's hands. Quickly, he wrapped a wide leather bracelet around each of the boy's wrists and shackled them to the collar with 10 cm [c. 3"] chains. Finishing, he shackled the boy's collar to one of the bed posts with a 1-meter-long [3'] chain, padlocking everything in place.

"Go straight to sleep now," he said, walking to the door and shutting off the lights in the playroom. "It's already past two and I can't let you sleep any longer than nine in the morning."

"Two?" Jonas groaned quietly. He'd never been awake this late at night before. What would Mum do if she knew? he wondered.

Jonas found it hard to go back to sleep as he lay there in the darkness.

His bum hole was widely stretched around the massive plug, which was only slowly warming to match the heat inside of him. He had tried repeatedly to push it out, to no avail. He'd have to use his hands to remove the fat plug, but he couldn't reach with his wrists chained to the leather collar around his neck.

The idea that Martin's small sperm cells were swimming in his innards was disgusting. He'd been amazed by the video of human reproduction shown in sex education and thus knew quite a lot about this topic. Although the video obviously hadn't covered male to male intercourse, his imagination was powerful enough to establish the missing links.

He wasn't a happy boy as he lay there, restlessly turning from one side to the other, and back again a couple of minutes later.

I want to kill him, he told himself after having wallowed in self-pity for about an hour. The notion brought a small smile on his face. With Martin dead, Jonas could go back to being the thirteen-soon-to-be-fourteen-year-old kid he'd been before he had made the greatest mistake of his life.

That'll fix all my problems, Jonas thought. He was finally able to find rest, and so he fell asleep while imagining ways he'd kill Martin.

"Wake up!" Jonas heard. Before he could act, he felt a stinging pain from his balls accompanied by a sound he instantly recognized.

"Ow!" he wailed, lurching upwards to get away from the dreaded bug zapper. Halfway through the motion the collar tightened around his neck and he was sent sprawling back onto the mattress again, wheezing from having his Adam's apple slightly compressed by the collar.

Martin laughed. "I think I should patent this," he said. "I'll call it: 'The balls zapper, the instant wakeup call'."

Jonas glared up at his tormentor. "Let me go. The sleepover's done. I need to be home at ten."

"Is that so?" Martin asked, cocking his head. "That's kind of peculiar, your mother told me to have you home by noon."

"She changed her mind."

"I find that hard to believe," Martin said, his voice even. "No, kiddo, I think it's you who wants to go home earlier. Don't you like it here?"

Jonas shook his head. "No."

"No? That's… Shocking!" Martin used the bug zapper on the nearest part of the boy's body that he could reach, which happened to be his right big toe.

Brrzt!

"No! Stop!" Jonas cried out.

"You don't like me, do you, boy?" Martin asked, sharply.

"I hate you!" Jonas stated. "I wish you'd die!"

"Oh… That's…" Martin was at a loss for words for a moment. "Very kind of you. Thank you."

"You're crazy!"

"Now, that's quite enough, kiddo."

"Let me go-oo!" Jonas wailed. "I wanna go ho-ome!"

"Not just yet. I have to prepare for another, hmm, visitor, so I'm not going to keep you here until eleven, but I do need to punish you before I can let you go."

"Why?"

"You lied to me. I don't care that you hate me enough to want me dead, that's just part of our little game I like so much.

"But I will not be lied to. I'll let you choose your punishment, Jonas. Do you want a taste of the crop you saw me use last night? Or something else?"

Jonas gasped; he could still hear the thunderous thwacks from the black riding crop colliding with the cop's skin. He did not want to be beaten like that.

"Nuh-not the whip," he beseeched and swallowed nervously.

Even though he was very frightened, his mind was busily working, weighing up his options. Yes, he had lied, and while he didn't think it was that much of a deal – It's only two hours, he told himself – Martin seemed to think differently about it.

He had to think of something, quickly, something that would make things between them good again. He was after all still very much trapped, he was chained to the sturdy bed by his neck and his hands were useless, too. He was naked and vulnerable, his bum packed full with a buttplug pressing on his bladder, increasing his need to pee.

He quickly scanned through previous threats of punishments: beaten by nettles, whipped with birch branches, smacked bottom, piss drinking, and more.

The problem was that he couldn't come up with anything. He thought his slight transgression didn't warrant a punishment in the first place, but he could tell that Martin very much wanted to punish him. What's the least I can get away with? he wondered briefly; he didn't want to make things worse by suggesting something Martin wouldn't accept.

I have to say something, Jonas realized.

"Please," he implored. "Not the whip. I'll do…"

"Anything?" Martin interjected. "Tsk-tsk. I told you last night not to say that, didn't I? Don't make promises you won't keep. But, alright. Let's see if you mean it.

"Lie back and spread your legs as far as you can."

"Wuh-what, no… Why?"

"Do it!" Martin ordered, sternly and menacingly.

With his heart thumping in his chest, Jonas slowly spread his legs apart.

"Lie back and close your eyes."

"I really don't like this," Jonas said, his voice trembling.

"You're not supposed to. You're being punished, remember?" Martin told the boy as he turned around and walked to the large cupboard.

"What w-will you do tuh-to me?" Jonas asked. He opened his eyes and sat up when he realized Martin was searching for something in the cupboard.

"You'll see. Well, actually, you won't. Close those eyes, boy!"

"No! Not the whip!" Jonas screeched in misery when Martin turned back to face him; the man now held the feared item in his hand.

"You said you'd let me do anything I want to punish you. Lay back down and spread those skinny legs of yours!"

"But I never meant you could use the whip!" Jonas whimpered as he let himself fall back. "Please, don't hit me with it."

"Close your eyes and spread your legs as far apart as you can. No matter what happens, I want you to keep them spread until I'm done punishing you. We'll have to start all over if you don't.

"Do you understand why I have to punish you?"

Jonas sniffed before he replied. "Because you're crazy and hate children," he said, softly and nasally.

"We'll have a nice talk about your impertinent behaviour later," Martin said, ominously.

"I don't want to talk to you," Jonas whispered and turned his head as far away from the man as he could.

"I've about had it with your insolence, kid!" Martin roared and sent the riding crop swooshing through the air down into the mattress between the boy's outstretched legs.

Jonas's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the whip hitting the mattress. He yipped from fear and felt something hot begin to pool around his buttocks. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that he was peeing.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," he sobbed, desperately trying to regain control of his bladder.

"That's it," Martin stated, coolly. "I'm ordering a box of diapers for you and the cost is coming out of your pocket money."

"No, please! I don't want…"

"No, but you need them. You're still dripping," Martin observed.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. Claiming that you're sorry doesn't set things right."

"I am sorry," Jonas repeated. "I'm not preten…"

"Never mind. Spread those legs, wide as you can."

"But…? My… The pee?"

"We'll deal with your piss after this. The sheet is piss proof."

Sobbing, Jonas spread his legs again and the cooling pee went further up his back as he shifted his weight on the mattress.

"Push your front out," Martin ordered and waited for a clear view of the boy's balls. He quickly struck them with just the wide leather flap attached to the tip of the riding crop.

"Yee-oouw!" Jonas squealed, immediately bringing his legs back together and curling up on his side; the pool of pee that he lay in was completely forgotten now.

Martin silently counted to ten. "Get back in position," he ordered, curtly.

"No! no-no," Jonas blubbered. "No more. Puh-please. It hu-hurts so much."

"It's going to hurt a lot more if you don't. On your back and spread your thighs. Let's see your nuts. You can stop your sobbing; they are fine. Not the slightest of colour to them, yet!" Martin said and struck the boy's scrotum again, just as hard as the first time, with pretty much the same result.

Jonas ended up on his side again, instinctively wanting to cup his balls to protect them from further harm and frantically yanking on the short chains that kept his wrists locked to the collar around his neck. The pain from his balls made him feel ill enough to vomit.

"Ow-ow-ow," he moaned quietly, over and over again.

Martin ordered the boy to spread his legs one more time. When Jonas didn't comply, the man took matters into his own hands and grabbed the boy's knee and wrestled it away from its twin.

"Better," he said after seeing what he wanted and let go of the boy again. "Just a shade of pink now. The colour will fade quickly, but you'd do well to remember this lesson. If I catch you trying to lie to me again, I'll be using your tiny balls for batting practice.

"Now, stop your moaning and suck up your piss."

Jonas looked up at Martin. "You can't be serious," he said, nervously.

"Oh, I am. You pissed the bed; you're cleaning it up."

"Untie me? I can, erm, like, wash the sheet?"

"I like you just fine the way you are now, kiddo, chained to the bed and fully dependent on me. Suck up your piss, as much of it as you can. I'll change the sheet later, after you're gone."

Jonas lay on his knees on the bed, still chained to the bed post. It was like his dream, only there weren't a princess or a gaggle of people around.

With his wrists chained to the collar he couldn't use them to scoop up his pee and instead he had to bring his mouth down to the bed. He pushed down into the mattress with his hands and this created a small bowl-like indention in which some of his pee gathered.

He drank from this make-shift bowl, like he was some kind of animal, only he felt quite certain no animal would ever drink its own pee. With Martin hovering above him with both the riding crop and the bug zapper in hand, he had little choice in the matter, though.

His pee tasted extremely sour and he screwed up his face every time he sucked in a mouthful of it. He had to force himself to swallow and then fight off the urge to heave it back up again.

It took considerable effort, but eventually, he had sucked the bowl mostly dry.

"Good boy," Martin praised and unzipped his trousers. "You do seem to enjoy drinking piss. Get over here, I have some more for you."

It was just after 9:30 when Jonas was finally allowed to leave Martin's house. As he walked toward the bus stop and came to the end of Martin's street, he was forced to wait for the traffic on the busier intersecting road to let up long enough for him to cross.

While waiting, he saw the large yellow bus approach, but he could do nothing but watch as it drove right past the stop and continued along its route toward his home town.

"Oh crap," he muttered, miserably. One minute earlier and I might've made it. Instead, he now had to wait for the next bus. Which wouldn't get there for almost two hours, he learned when he checked the schedule on the post.

This meant he'd be dangerously close to missing his curfew.

It also means I won't see much of Aunt Megan, he hoped. After the sleepover at Martin's house, all he wished for was to sleep for the rest of the weekend.

Well, I want to brush my teeth and drink a million litres of water before going to bed. That would have to wait, though. He didn't have any money to buy something to drink, nor did he have his toothbrush. I should have brought it, he told himself.

But hindsight couldn't change the fact that he was twelve kilometres [7.5 miles] from home, which to him was an insurmountable distance to travel on foot. He did have his phone, but he couldn't ring home and ask for a lift.

Mum will only ask questions and I'll somehow mess up, and then she'll find out everything. He couldn't risk that.

A more immediate concern was his dire need to pee. He'd not been given the chance to sit on the loo, or squat above it; he'd simply been sent off after the briefest of showers when Martin had finished with him.

Jonas shuddered, both from the tingling sensation between his legs – the urge to pee was imminent – and from the recollection of what the cruel man had put him through during the sleepover. He quickly scanned his surroundings and found no one near him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he ducked into the bushes behind the bus shed. Here he found a narrow patch of bare dirt spanning the width of the shed. It was adequately shielded for a quick wee, he decided, even if he had to squat with his shorts and underwear lowered to just above his knees.

He chose not to worry about weeing like a little girl, his need was too strong and urgent for that and he'd hardly gotten into position before his pee spurted forth from the short spout in the chastity device, wetting the ground below him.

While he sat there, with his feet widely spaced out to make sure the growing damp patch wouldn't reach his sneakers, Jonas resumed contemplating the weekend.

The alien, which he'd been promised, had not finished printing, and then Martin had made matters worse by only allowing him to bring home one piece of the model at a time. Jonas was extremely disappointed, but he did understand the reason why, when Martin told him the complete model would be too large to take on the bus safely. Besides, Jonas was happy just to finally be allowed to leave the man's house.

"Go home and don't come back until I tell you," Martin had told him. "It may be a while, I'm quite busy this week," the man had said, which Jonas hadn't minded at all.

I need a break, he told himself, feeling exhausted, while he sat emptying his bladder, the plastic bag with the first piece of his model laying by his right foot.

His body still bore some evidence of the night's terrors. Where the leather cuffs had been around his wrists there were still discernible indentions. Jonas was happy the sleeves of his sweater were just long enough to cover the marks.

His stomach gurgled, loudly complaining about the amount of waste fluid he'd been forced to drink that morning. He felt nauseous, as if he could vomit at any given moment, but forcing out a burp every so often eased some of the queasiness he felt.

The one thing that he couldn't do anything about, and which hurt him the most, was the throbbing pain he felt from his battered bum hole. Never had he been in so much pain from that area before, not even the first time when Martin had forced himself upon him.

While Jonas had been forced to drink Martin's horrid-tasting morning urine, the man's cock had grown firmer, until it stood erect and bopping by the end of the ordeal. That was only the beginning of it, though. The boy had been anally raped again, twice, before Martin saw fit to release him from the leather collar and cuffs.

As he sat there – waiting for the drops to stop – Jonas half wanted to push down and rid himself of the sperm in his bowels. He didn't care that he'd be in direct violation of the man's strict order if he did so. Alas, he feared it would renew the pain, that he might start to cry from it, again, and he worried it might bleed.

I've no toilet paper, he thought and that was yet another reason to not push down, no matter how much he wanted to do just that. He's still inside of me! It even felt like the man's fat cock was still ravaging his bum.

He didn't dare touch the chafed skin between his buttocks, he simply stood up and gingerly hiked up his underwear and shorts, making sure they sat properly.

He looked at the large damp patch he'd left in the dirt and felt slightly embarrassed for having had to wee in such a semi-public spot.

Chapter Thirty-Five
Bummed out, man!

During the remaining nearly two hours Jonas waited for the bus to arrive, he continually shifted between sitting and standing. The bench in the bus shed was made from some kind of hard wood and he just couldn't stand to sit on it for too long at a stretch due to his sore behind. However, he was far too tired to stand up for the entire time.

I've never been this tired in all of my life, he thought, opening his mouth in a big yawn. Just then, his stomach gurgled again. And I still feel sick.

The bus pulled in after the wait that seemed like it would never end and Jonas quickly got on and found a seat just behind the rear wheels. There weren't many passengers on the bus, which didn't bother the boy in the least.

Jonas leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes… Only to jolt awake sometime later, completely unaware of his surroundings. He looked out the windows, searching for something familiar, then checked his watch.

"Oh, phew," he breathed in relief when he discovered he had only slept for a few minutes and hadn't missed his stop. All the same, the scare kept him from drowsing off again.

The unknown boy Jonas had noticed on the way to Martin, with his sad eyes, now looked down on him again from the poster relaying the message from Save the Children: 'Call us, write us, chat with us. We can help.'

Yeah, sure, he thought, sarcastically. At what cost? He was still certain it would be far too steep and he disregarded the sad boy's message for the rest of the trip back home.

Jonas unlocked the front door to his house and was about to make his customary announcement of being home when he heard part of a conversation that made him stop in his tracks. He carefully and silently closed the door and stole closer to the open doorway to the kitchen.

"… boy or girl? Well, I guess it doesn't matter all that much; knowing that it's okay is far more important," Jonas heard. It was his aunt Megan, there was no mistaking her voice.

"Yes, thank God, everything looked alright on the ultra-scan," Peter said.

"It's a boy," Susan informed her sister. "A little tiny boy. I don't know how the technician could tell; there's no sign of, well, you know, it."

"You never told me you were trying for another baby?" Jonas heard Aunt Megan carp.

"We weren't. I asked when we were in Crete, mostly for fun, and Susan responded like she was shocked by it. And all along, you knew, I mean, you must have known then? That you were pregnant?"

"I still am, Peter. I wasn't sure, not back then. I'd missed my period but it has been irregular before and I didn't want to raise your hopes before I knew for certain. I only took the test when we returned."

"Does Jonas know he's about to become a big brother?"

"No. We didn't want to tell him until we knew that everything was… Alright. We wouldn't tell him if we had to get an abortion, which we would have if it hadn't been all healthy and… Well, thankfully, that won't be necessary now. He's fine, thriving, or so the midwife told us."

"You'll need to tell Jonas soon, though. I mean, it won't be long until you start to fill out, Sis."

"Yes. You're right. We're just trying to find the right time. He's been acting strangely this summer, moody I mean, probably puberty, you know, and I don't want to make his life any more complicated than it needs to be."

"Well, if you ever find out that two kids are one too many, I wouldn't mind taking one of them. Probably Jonas, he might be moody but at least he's housebroken, right?"

This was starting to become too much for Jonas. He couldn't keep hiding behind the wall and eavesdropping on his parents and his aunt. If one of them had to go use the toilet, they'd go along the hallway in which he was hiding.

Besides, what little he'd heard of the conversation had already raised a lot of questions. He also wanted to make clear to his aunt that he didn't need diapers any more, even if Martin thought so.

He walked into the kitchen and stopped just in the doorway.

"Take me where?" he asked, warily. Although that wasn't the most important question he had, he was more comfortable asking this than the other things he wanted to know.

"Jonas!" Aunt Megan squealed with pretentious delight, like she always did whenever they met. It was so humiliating to Jonas, especially when they met in public. "There you are. I've missed you so. This Martin must be special, huh?"

"Eh… What?" Jonas asked. He did think that Martin was 'special', but in a different sense of the word than the one his aunt was hinting at. He's a real nutter, he thought to himself.

"Well, from what your mum tells me, you're at his house nearly every day? Tell me, have you completely forgotten Noah? He's such a sweet boy."

"No, I haven't," Jonas said, quietly. I'm just avoiding him. I need to work out what to tell him. That was yet another item on his list of things he had to find solutions to. Sleep was more urgent, however. He wanted to get some answers to his questions and then he'd go for a nice long nap.

"How have you been?" Megan asked Jonas. "I haven't seen you since before you all went to Crete." She turned her head and looked at her sister. "Without inviting me, I might add."

"Sorry," Susan said, smiling. She was accustomed to her younger sister's antics and knew her scolding wasn't meant to be taken seriously. For one thing, Megan hated flying, much preferring to travel by train as this left a smaller impact on the climate.

"I'm fine," Jonas claimed, although he was far from fine. It just felt easier to pretend than telling the truth. He would've had no idea of where to start, had he been forced to be honest. "Where will you take me?" he asked again. If she was going to take him away from Martin, maybe it would be worth having to suffer his aunt's eccentricity.

"Nowhere. I was only cracking a bad joke, honey. Although, my offer stands, Peter. If you ever tire from this big hunk of a cutie, I'll whisk him right away."

With that, Megan rose from the table, to Jonas's horror, and walked over to him. She pinched his cheeks, like she always did, and kissed him as was her customary greeting. But she went one step further and kissed him smack on his lips.

Jonas hated all of the kissing, particularly on his lips, regardless of how chaste it was, but he'd never once been asked if he was okay with being kissed by his mother's sister. When he turned twelve, he had finally summoned the courage to complain about it. Albeit to his mother, and all that she had done was give him a lecture about the importance of family. The kissing hadn't ended after that, Jonas suspected his aunt had never even been told about his complaint. Fortunately, this kiss on his lips didn't last very long.

"I think you've grown, young man," Megan told him. "Have you started to shave already?" she asked, holding him at arm's length as she studied his bald upper lip. "Your fluff's all gone," she commented.

Shaking her head and letting go of her nephew's cheeks, she hugged him close, forcing the air from his lungs.

"Did you forget to brush your teeth this morning?" she asked, noticing the strange smell on his breath.

"I forgot my toothbrush," Jonas mumbled, feeling embarrassed about what had caused the smell and with how tightly his aunt was still embracing him.

"Have you been stuffing yourself with those awful crisps [chips] again? What is that dreadful flavour you like so much?"

"Erm… Sour cream and onion?"

"Yes, those. They are full of bad things and they make your breath stink. Just like it does now. They'll also make your teeth rot if you don't brush. If you ask me, there's nothing wrong with baked carrots and beets. Those are healthy snacks; I know I've told you this before, so there's no reason to ruin your body with bad food.

"Now, be a right darling and go brush, okay? We'll talk after," Megan promised, patting his lower back.

Jonas was happy to get away from his aunt and hurried out of the kitchen.

"So, why haven't you come see me this summer?" Megan asked when Jonas returned to the kitchen after brushing his teeth. She pulled out the chair next to her and gestured for him to sit there.

"I think you should sit with me while we eat lunch, dear. Your mum and dad have something important they want to tell you."

Jonas helplessly shrugged his shoulders as he made his way over to the chair. As he was about to sit down, she pulled it even closer to herself.

When he sat, he was almost rubbing shoulders with his aunt, far too close for his comfort. His bum hurt too, but he couldn't allow that to be seen. He'd have to sit through lunch and somehow survive the ordeal.

He looked at his parents sitting across the table. They seemed almost as uneasy with the situation as he felt. I just want to go lie down, my stomach is killing me, he thought, deliberately trying to forget the reason why he was feeling nauseous. Drinking Martin's potent morning piss straight from the man's penis had been revolting, and having to do so right after drinking his own had nearly made him vomit from the amount of liquids going into his stomach.

"You really ought to come visit soon. I've finally discovered the perfect combination tea, fully organic, of course. It's part chamomile, lavender, green tea, and ginger. I can't wait for you to taste it, you'll love it."

Jonas thought he might finally lose the battle with his stomach and throw up from listening to his aunt's description of the tea and what benefits it supposedly served her body. It sounded worse than the piss Martin had forced him to drink; it sounded more like poison to him and the whole trivial tea matter bored him nearly to tears.

He looked at his parents again, hoping one of them might rescue him by starting the important chat they were supposed to be having. He knew what it was about already and he wasn't sure the subject would be any less boring than Aunt Megan's tea; small kids – babies especially – wasn't something he had thought much about.

However, being replaced as the son in the family was hugely important to him. He wanted to know if his new brother was being born only to take his place. If so, he'd object as ferociously as he could before he'd be forced to move in with his aunt.

His mum and dad weren't biting though, they let Megan speak about her tea while they buttered slices of ryebread and put cold cuts of meat on top of them.

If they ever find about what Martin's done to me, then I might as well just go live with Aunt Megan and let her kill me with her awful tea, Jonas thought, ignoring his aunt's explanation of lavender not just being good for its aroma.

"Aren't you having any?" Megan asked and placed a slice of ryebread on Jonas's plate.

"I'm not hungry," Jonas said, pushing the slice to the very edge of the plate.

"Nonsense, sweetie," Megan said and moved the slice back to the centre of the plate. "You're a growing boy, you need all the healthy food you can pack away. You wouldn't want to eat those dreadful crisps full of palm oil, if you're full of delicious and nutritious food."

Jonas looked at the slice of ryebread on his plate for a moment and shook his head. "I can't eat it," he said.

"It's okay." Megan nodded. "You must be nervous. You've heard some things you weren't supposed to and you don't understand what it all means. Care to take over from here?" she asked and looked at Susan.

"Oh, right." Susan cleared her throat. "Listen Jonas. I'm pregnant…"

An awkward moment of silence followed; it wasn't often Jonas had seen his mother at a loss for what to say.

"Why?" he asked, softly.

"Well," Megan said. "You know when a man and a woman are in love…"

"Yes, yes," Jonas interjected, annoyed that his aunt thought he needed to be told how when what he wanted to know was the reason for his parents wanting to have another baby. "I know, they have sex and a baby's made. But, why?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"It just happened," Peter said. "Maybe Mum forgot to take one of her pills or perhaps it just didn't work… It isn't…"

"You told Mum you wanted another son," Jonas reminded his dad. "In Crete," he added, seeing the sudden look of befuddlement on the man's face. "On the beach. When I didn't want you to pick me up like I was some little baby or something."

"Oh! Yes, I did say that, didn't I? Well, I stand accused and must admit to the charges."

"Shush, Peter. He was only joking," Susan explained, then turned to look at her son. "He was sad that you turned him down. You're growing up so quickly, Jonas. Pretty soon, you'll be moving out."

"Moving? I'm not even fourteen yet. I'm not moving. It'll be ages…"

"It won't, son. It'll come sooner than any of us think."

"I'm not letting Aunt Megan take me!" Jonas exclaimed, assuming this might be what his Mum was hinting at.

"It seems like only yesterday that you waddled around in diapers, honey," Susan said, throwing a look at her sister silently telling her to keep from reacting to Jonas's remark. "We miss that."

"You're not putting me in diapers again!" Jonas blurted to which Megan responded with the start of a laugh that she quickly changed into a splutter.

"No one's putting you in diapers, son," Peter said, solemnly.

Please tell Martin that, Dad, Jonas wished, but kept quiet. It was too humiliating, even if Aunt Megan and his mum seemed to be thinking it was hilarious.

"I mean it! I won't stand it," he pressed on. That Martin would be buying diapers for Jonas to wear – from the boy's own pocket money – was bad enough, he wasn't going to let himself be diapered at home, too. If that was a requirement, he'd rather go live with Aunt Megan, instead. Vile tea and beet crisps or not.

"We know," Susan stated, calmingly. "We just miss the pitter patter of little feet in our house. We're growing older, Jonas. Soon it will be too late for that."

Then get a dog, Jonas wanted to suggest, wisely keeping his thoughts to himself.

"The baby's coming, whether you approve of it or not, Jonas. I hope you'll be a good brother to him when he's born," Peter said with a firmness to his voice the likes of which Jonas hadn't often heard from him.

He saw it as a small victory, though. He wasn't going to be diapered at home, that much seemed certain now. What might happen at Martin's house was an altogether different matter. If he had learned one thing since meeting the evil man, it was to always expect the worst from him. But, often, Martin's worst turned out to be even worse than Jonas's imagination could allow for.

He will put me in a diaper, he reluctantly accepted. He'd already been told to bring money to cover the cost for the first box of them. It isn't fair, he told himself, but nothing Martin ever did was fair. And he couldn't tell anyone about any of it. That was almost worse than having to suffer the man's sadistic whims.

Lunch was a very subdued event after the revelation of the new baby being on its way. Jonas managed to eat only a little, despite being constantly encouraged to eat by his aunt.

"You need your strength," she said and caressed his thigh reassuringly. "You'll see, everything's going to be alright." She squeezed his bare thigh.

Don't touch me, Jonas wished. He was very aware of the fact that her hand was mere centimetres away from his groin where the metal chastity device resided.

If she touches that… Jonas shuddered. He couldn't think of any explanation for wearing it, other than he'd been forced to do so.

Megan squeezed him again. "You'll be a big brother soon, that must be exciting."

Jonas didn't see it quite that way, but because Megan's hand was lingering so closely to his private parts, he nodded, half-heartedly.

"Can I be excused?" he asked, meekly, prepared to have his request denied. He couldn't sit still any longer, his bum was hurting and he was desperate for a wee. Most of all, he wanted to go lie down so he could catch up on his sleep. "Please?"

"You're not scuttling off so quickly," Megan teased. "I have something for you."

"You do?" Jonas wasn't terribly interested, even so manners dictated that he asked.

"Yes. I was shopping and saw something by coincidence that I thought would make a nice birthday gift for you."

"Really?" Now Jonas was interested. Birthday presents were highly desired, particularly unexpected ones.

"You shouldn't have," Susan said from across the table. "It's not for another month."

"It's in three weeks and two days, Mum," Jonas quickly clarified, suddenly worried that the alluded gift might not materialise after all.

"Listen to your oldest son," Megan advised.

"Your only son," Jonas corrected his aunt, fuelled by the prospect of receiving a gift. "Eh, for now," he quickly added, realizing it might be better for him to remain on his best behaviour.

"Still…"

"Mum! Please. Aunt Megan brought my gift all the way here, don't make her take it back only so she can bring it again in three weeks."

"You're getting awfully anxious, Jonas," Megan commented.

Well, duh! He was about to roll his eyes but managed to stop the action, suddenly remembering how much his parents disliked the action that they saw as contempt. He nodded instead.

"It's in the foy-" Megan said and Jonas was out of his seat before she could finish the word. "-er."

How could I miss it? he wondered as he went through the doorway to the hallway. There, right next to the front door, sat a gaily wrapped box with a yellow bow. It's huge! he thought, delightedly.

He picked up the box and gently shook it, trying to establish the contents before unwrapping it.

It doesn't weigh all that much, he noted, puzzled as to what it might be. It wasn't the flat-screen TV he had placed as his number one wish – the box was squarer and certainly wasn't wide enough for a TV – nor was it the PlayStation that came second on his list, the box wasn't the right shape for that, either. Besides, Aunt Megan wouldn't spend so much money on me, would she?

He shook the wrapped box again, harder, and this time something inside the box rattled, but he couldn't tell what it was from the sound it made.

"Wouldn't it be much simpler if you brought your present into the kitchen and unwrapped it?" Peter asked from the doorway.

Jonas looked up at his dad and grinned sheepishly from having been caught behaving so childishly. "I s'pose so," he agreed. He brought the gift-wrapped box with him back to the kitchen.

"Now, that put your pretty smile back on your face," Megan observed.

"Can I open it?" Jonas asked.

"It isn't your birthday today. You'll have to wait another three weeks and three days," Peter said, teasingly.

"Two days!" Jonas corrected his dad, miffed that the man couldn't remember when his own, and only, son had been born. "Please?"

"Go ahead," Megan decided.

"You're spoiling him," Susan remarked even as Jonas began to tear open the paper.

The brown cardboard box that hid under the colourful paper didn't reveal any clues as to what was inside and he had to fetch a knife to cut the tape that held it shut. First one of the flaps opened and then the other and he upended the box, eager to see what would slide out of it.

"Wait… What?" he asked, when a multi-coloured item wrapped in a clear plastic bag fell the short distance from the box to the floor. It looked suspiciously much like a… He cocked his head. "A schoolbag?" he asked, bewildered.

"Isn't it just the loveliest thing you've seen?" Megan gushed. "The minute I saw all those vibrant colours I knew straight away that it was meant to be yours. It just screams out your name, Jonas. Don't you think?"

Jonas wasn't so sure it was his name that the bag screamed. It was 'loud', for sure; the vivid colours called for, demanded, attention. However, he wasn't at all pleased with what he saw. It was as if a small kid had coloured the bag using only the most ostentatious and flamboyant colours available to him.

The purple, red, green, and blue psychedelic colour scheme was so far from Jonas's taste that he wanted to throw it back into the box, never to be seen again.

"Are you serious?" he asked, hopeful against all odds, that this was just some kind of mean prank, that his aunt had a real present for him, somewhere. He'd even endure waiting three weeks to get the real present, if he had to.

"Yes," Megan said. "It's for you. It was bloody expensive but I think you're worth it."

Jonas wanted to ask if the gift came with the receipt, in which case he might be able to return it; the cash would be much more welcome than this schoolbag that would instantly turn anyone who wore it to school into a target for even the weakest of bullies.

He couldn't ask that, though.

"Thanks," he muttered, instead. It seemed like such a waste. He could, should, have been given a proper gift instead of this insignificant everyday item. He hated 'practical' gifts.

"You aren't happy with it?" Megan asked.

"It's okay, I guess… I already have a schoolbag," he said, grasping the first excuse popping into his mind.

"Yes, of course you do, but you're starting year eight," Susan pointed out. "Your old schoolbag won't do any more; you'll need more room than it has for all your things."

"But, this?" Jonas was starting to lose his cool as he nodded at the multi-coloured thing from hell laying by his feet. "It's much too big for me," he stated, trying to come up with yet another excuse for not accepting the 'gift'; he could have named many, but thought this one wouldn't hurt his aunt's feelings too badly.

"Nonsense," Megan brushed aside Jonas's complaint. "The lady at the store said this is for year seven and up. It has a special pocket for your computer and…"

"I'll look like a little kid wearing that!"

"Only until your growth spurt sets in. It can't be long now," Peter said. "It'll be fine, you'll see."

"You're not the one who has to go to school with that on your back!" Jonas exclaimed. "Can't we at least go exchange it for one with, eh, normal colours? Like blue or black, or something?"

"I like the looks of this one," Susan commented. "It's so colourful."

It's fit for a first grader, was Jonas's opinion of the brightly coloured bag. Or a kindergartener. Well, a kindergartener would probably fit inside of it… he thought. But he was seriously outnumbered and he relented, at last.

"Okay," he said and picked up the plastic-wrapped bag from the floor. "I'm going to my room."

"It was so lovely seeing you again," Megan burbled.

"I don't know what's wrong with his manners lately," Jonas heard his mum say as he left the kitchen. "If you're hoping to spend the night at Martin's place again, you can forget all about that," she called out after him. "It won't happen."

"Fine!" Jonas replied. That was something he wouldn't mind at all. Unlike his new schoolbag that he dragged behind him towards his room. He ditched it in the hallway while he went to sit on the toilet.

Maybe I can dye it black? he contemplated as he relieved his bladder. Do I have enough paint for that?

Chapter Thirty-Six
Options

Jonas crashed on his bed, fully clothed – save for his sneakers that he'd left in the foyer. He lay curled up on his side and though he was very tired, he couldn't fall asleep.

What if all cops are like Kurt? he thought. Well, that's not very likely, is it, anyway? All policemen can't be into BDSM; and there are female cops, too. But, how would he ever be able to tell who was and who wasn't safe to speak to? Kurt had looked like an ordinary cop when they had passed in the street. He remembered having wanted to ask the man for help back then.

If I talk to the wrong guy then he won't help me. Instead, he'll tell Martin and… The thought sent shivers down Jonas's back, making him shudder. He pulled the duvet up over his head.

I can't talk to the police, he decided in the darkness under the covers. Not now, not ever!

He wouldn't call Save the Children's helpline either, even if he had memorized the number. That boy on the posters in the bus was just some kind of model, getting paid to look sad. It was only some kind of role he played.

"How can I ever escape him?" he muttered almost silently to himself. He said he'll let me go when he gets too bored with me. Jonas thought about that for a while.

He keeps coming up with new stuff, he realized. If the man never ran out of new ways to torment Jonas, then the man would never bore from it and thus would never let him go.

I'll have to pretend to like it. All of what he does to me, Jonas thought and shuddered again. How was he supposed to do that, when it was all so disgusting and quite often hurt him so badly? I can't do that.

The only other option Jonas could think of was to try to do everything that Martin might demand of him to the best of his capabilities. That wasn't what he wanted, far from it, but it might spare him some pain, at least. That's a start, isn't it?

I should kill him! Jonas remembered his fantasy from the night before. It would solve all of his problems if Martin died, or most of his problems. He'd still have to somehow get along with Aunt Megan and his new baby brother, and use the new schoolbag even with Martin dead. But that all seemed manageable, far easier than having to live with Martin's torture, too.

How can I kill him? he wondered. He didn't know the first thing about fighting, let alone killing, someone. Certainly not someone who was much bigger and stronger than himself.

If I had a gun, I could shoot him… But he didn't, he didn't even know anyone who owned one. And, he was sure it would take more than just aiming and pulling the trigger. And what would I do with the body?

He felt certain that he couldn't just leave Martin in his house and walk away free. Kurt would find the corpse and probably work out that Jonas had killed him and most likely wouldn't be happy if his master were to die.

I could poison him. Jonas had prepared food for Martin twice now and would certainly be ordered to do so again. I could slip something into his food. Crushed pills or… Rat poison.

He didn't have any rat poison, though. And, while his mum had given him strict orders to only eat one of his vitamin pills each day, even if he really liked the strawberry flavour, he didn't think two of those would kill a grown man.

It would take a whole bottle, probably, or more, he thought, and that would be impossible to hide in the food before serving it. And because he was always naked in the man's house, he'd have nowhere to hide the pills before putting them in the food. Except for one place.

I'm not going to put things up my bum! There had already been far too many things forced up his rear end for him to seriously consider willingly sticking anything else up there. Besides, a bottle of multivitamins would be far too large to fit.

A knife might be better, he decided. Martin had those in his kitchen, long knives, and right sharp too. But, the problem with the man's corpse still persisted. Only now it would be even worse, blood would be dripping everywhere; Jonas might even be sprinkled with it. That brought out thoughts about DNA. Jonas had watched some crime movies and knew a bit about basic forensics.

"Oh, why bother?" he wondered aloud. He didn't know enough to attempt to kill Martin, no matter how tempting that idea was to him. It would never be more than just a thought in his head, a wish that he might revive later, when needed. If he did try to kill the man and failed, there was no telling what the man might do to him. He'd probably get so angry that he'd kill me!

What do I tell Noah? he asked himself next. He hadn't given his best friend much thought lately, thanks to Martin. I have to come up with a reason for why we're no longer friends on the Snap, he decided. Noah was probably gutted about that, though he was the more popular of the two and had far more friends than Jonas.

Not that that takes much, Jonas thought, yawning. I only really have him. He shut his eyes as he considered that statement. That is, if he's still my friend.

He fell asleep even as he tried to think of an acceptable excuse for having deleted his only friend from the only app that mattered for any self-respecting teen: Snapchat. Martin did it, he reminded himself as he succumbed to sleep, but he could not tell Noah that. He'll just want to know who he is so he can beat him up.

Jonas woke in time for dinner and he was happy to find out his aunt had left for home by that time. His butt felt slightly better as he sat down at the table. He was feeling ravenous, having eaten nothing for breakfast and very little for lunch, and he piled food onto his plate.

"I'm happy you've regained your appetite," his mum noted.

"I'm starving," he said, taking a bite out of a large potato.

"So, no more moaning about your little brother?" Peter asked.

"Eh, I wasn't moaning. I just don't get it. Why do you want a new son? Aren't I good enough?" Jonas asked, voicing his deepest concern.

"This has nothing to do with you," Susan started to explain in a very level voice. "When Dad and I moved in together and spoke about marriage and kids, we both wanted to have more than one child. But, even the best of plans sometimes doesn't play out as you want it to."

Jonas nodded. He knew that very well.

"Not long after you were born, I was offered a job with very good terms and I didn't feel that I could turn it down. We were blessed that Megan was unemployed at the time. She loved taking care of you, you know?

"Anyhow, we had to put the idea of having a large family on hold as we simply wouldn't be able to manage on just your dad's salary. For a very long time it looked as if you'd be an only child, Jonas."

"Fortunately," Peter continued, "it turned out that it wasn't too late to add to our family. In six or seven months, you'll have a baby brother. And who knows, maybe you'll also have a baby sister a couple of years from now."

"Da-ad!" Jonas objected wide-eyed.

"You never know," Susan agreed and placed her hand over that of her son's and squeezed it lovingly. "Things will change, Jonas, they always do, but that doesn't mean it will turn into something terrible."

"Not until your brother turns two," Peter cautioned.

"I guess I can always move in with Aunt Megan," Jonas joked, although he was not happy with that prospect.

The three resumed eating in silence, each focusing on their own thoughts.

Jonas wasn't sure what to think of his parents wanting to increase their family. He was a little angry not to have been asked if he wanted siblings. He supposed he might have been more positive about it if he had been younger but now it just seemed ridiculous to him.

When I'm fifteen years old, he'll still be a baby. And when I'm eighteen he'll still only be four, he told himself. They'd better not ask me to babysit him!

He couldn't think of anything that might make his parents reconsider, even if that seemed to be the most beneficial and prudent course of action. It wasn't his choice, that much he understood. Not that he approved, though.

He had other things to worry about, soon he'd be back in school. His life would go back on the rigid schedule dictating his every waking hour, or so it seemed. There was still the issue about Martin, but he couldn't find a way to solve that; again, it seemed that he could only try to do what the man wanted and hope to someday be released.

He didn't object when his dad came to collect his phone and notebook, he simply relinquished them without comment, even though it was only 21:10, which was much too soon for a self-respecting teen to go to bed on a Saturday night. It was pointless trying to fight it however, he knew so from past experiences.

Because he had slept through most of the afternoon, he wasn't feeling tired at all when he got into bed and shut off his lamp. It was still light out and his curtains weren't doing much to block the brightness from the evening sun from seeping into his room, further hindering his attempts to fall asleep.

About half an hour later, he noticed a growing discomfort in his groin as his penis tried to inflate inside the tight confines of the cock cage.

Oh no, he thought, well aware of what this meant. When he was younger, he would have simply reached into his pyjama bottoms and adjusted his stiffening penis, maybe cupping or fondling it while succumbing to sleep. Later on, when he had discovered how, he would have wanked, if circumstances permitted him to do so.

But, after making the biggest mistake of his entire life, having locked his penis in the chastity device that he'd printed himself, he'd had no chance to so much as touch his growing penis while lying in bed at night.

And now, for whatever reason, his body was stubbornly demanding that he grip his penis and stroke it until he reach 'Nirvana' once more. It was far too long ago that he'd experienced that delightful sensation, that was what his body told him, resulting in a throbbing pain that made him double over in an attempt to alleviate it.

Jonas wanted to cry out, both from the pain and the frustration he felt for not being master over his own body. He wanted to wank and he wanted to cum, right there and then, but also whenever he pleased.

He didn't have the key to the chastity device, though. Only one person did. And he loathed that one person more than any other person in the whole world as he squirmed on his bed, trying to find a position in which his penis wouldn't feel like it was being crushed.

Jonas woke Sunday morning feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. His unruly penis had kept him from going to sleep for the longest time and when he finally had managed to drop off, it awoke him a couple of hours later as it tried to grow hard again. And it had been like that all through the night, short periods of rest interrupted by moments with excruciating pain from his groin.

His penis was trying to get hard even as he woke, preventing him from his usual slow transition from sleeping to being awake. He rolled out of bed and rushed to sit on the loo for his morning wee. His penis slowly wilted as his pee started to flow and he gasped with satisfaction while his bladder drained.

He spent most of that day in bed watching TikTok videos. He'd discovered that he could watch them on his computer. The web interface was cumbersome, but the ability to watch the short clips on a 15" monitor instead of the small screen on his phone more than made up for that.

From time to time, his penis would announce its unhappiness with being caged. He could do nothing about that, though, only try to think of things that might make it go soft again. However, even when he recollected the ghastly memory of having seen his aunt's naked, and hairy, bum when he was seven, this only seemed to serve as fuel for his penis.

"You might as well stop," Jonas whispered to it. "I can't play with you."

In a desperate attempt to circumvent the chastity device, he tried to hump his bed. This was how he had used to make himself feel good, he remembered, although it hadn't been as good as when he'd discovered how to wank properly. It didn't feel good, at all, now. His penis only tried to grow harder and bigger than what the bent tube allowed for, resulting in more pain.

After Jonas finished his routine in the bathroom, Monday morning, he grabbed a deep plate from the kitchen cupboard and a spoon from the drawer, placing both on the table before fetching a carton of milk and the box of Cornflakes. Lastly, he picked up a glass and his notebook from the kitchen counter and placed them next to the plate.

He browsed the TikTok site while he ate his sugary breakfast, happy that he didn't need his phone to access the sorely missed videos, now that he could watch them on his computer instead, and so he left his practically useless phone switched off.

It wasn't until nearly an hour and a half after he'd sat down for his breakfast that he rose from the chair and placed the plate and glass in the sink, and returned the milk to the fridge.

That's when he saw his phone laying on the counter.

I'd better turn it on, he thought, one of his parents might want to speak to him for some reason, although that was unlikely, unless his mum wanted him to shop for her. This was nearly enough reason for him to leave it switched off, but there really was no reason for having a phone if it wasn't switched on. He dapped in the pin code and left the phone on the counter, returning to watch more TikTok videos.

He'd scarcely sat down before his phone twirped twice. He knew that sound by heart, someone had sent him a Snap. He didn't have to look at his phone to see who that someone was; only the people on his contacts list were able to send him messages and the only person currently on that list was Martin.

"What does he want?" Jonas wondered with part trepidation, part annoyance. He said he'd give me a break.

Still, he couldn't just ignore the man, doing so might come with dire consequences, stuff he didn't want to even think about. He picked up his phone and tapped the Snapchat icon that showed he had two new messages waiting.

Martin

Today

Martin

Get over here as soon as you can.

Where the FUCK are you? Why haven't you replied yet? It's been more than an hour. I'm NOT pleased. I'll upload some pics soon…

Jonas gulped as he read the messages and quickly tapped in a reply.

Martin

Today

Martin

Get over here as soon as you can.

Where the FUCK are you? Why haven't you replied yet? It's been more than an hour. I'm NOT pleased. I'll upload some pics soon…

J0n4s😍🤣

sorry i dint see ur snap. mum makes me turn phone of at night i only turned it on now

It took less than a minute for Martin's response to show up on the screen.

Martin

Today

Martin

Get over here as soon as you can.

Where the FUCK are you? Why haven't you replied yet? It's been more than an hour. I'm NOT pleased. I'll upload some pics soon…

J0n4s😍🤣

sorry i dint see ur snap. mum makes me turn phone of at night i only turned it on now

Martin

Get over here, straightaway. I'll punish you later.

Jonas wanted to say no. He desperately wished that he could be brave enough to stand up to the pushy man. Alas, he wasn't and he didn't. He went to his room and changed from his jeans to the snug athletic shorts that Martin insisted he wear on every trip to the man's house.

Why does he care what clothes I wear, anyway? he wondered. I have to take them off right after I enter the door. It was yet another thing he did not understand about Martin, but he had decided it would be wiser to simply obey the man to the best of his capabilities, and hope that would be enough to avoid being punished too severely.

Witnessing Kurt, who was both a cop and a very strong man, whimpering from being whipped by Martin with the riding crop had left a massive impact on the young susceptible teenager. He could still clearly recall the whooshing sounds, the crack from the whip against human skin and how the man had cried out with pain.

Jonas was certain he wouldn't just whimper and cry if Martin were to use the whip on his bum. He said he'd hit my balls with it, he reminded himself. That would surely make him scream he felt and vowed to just suck it up, no matter what Martin would do to him and do whatever was asked of him.

He'd already been pushed to do things he never would have dreamt of doing, just like Martin had predicted when the man had first offered to 'help'. While most of it had been awful and had hurt him, he hadn't died from any of it.

Not yet, anyway, he thought. But Martin had promised that he wouldn't die from any of the things he'd be exposed to. Even so, Jonas wondered if it might be possible to die from shame. Some of the things that he had suffered were reprehensible to such a degree that he would want to die if anyone ever were to find out about them. Especially if someone he knew would learn that he was being transformed into a little sissy for grown men to use as they pleased.

Such were Jonas's thoughts as he locked the front door and went on his way to the bus stop.

Chapter Thirty-Seven
Splishy-Splashy

After disembarking from the bus, Jonas was getting more frightened with each step taking him closer to the man's front door. He knew he was in trouble, although he wasn't really at fault for not having seen the man's summoning messages until he had. Martin had never told him to switch his phone on first thing in the morning.

His heart thumped in his chest as he opened the door and let himself in. There were no signs of Martin, neither visible nor audible, and Jonas hurriedly disrobed, hoping this might help him get away with a more lenient punishment.

"There you are," Martin remarked as he entered the room. "At long last. Well, better late than never. You're overdressed."

"Uh…? What?" Jonas was baffled by the man's statement; he quickly glanced at his feet, wondering if he somehow had forgotten to take off his socks. No, they were on top of his other clothes in the orderly pile next to the front door, exactly where he had put them only moments earlier. He was wearing absolutely nothing.

Martin slapped his hand down onto the table, palm down. When he withdrew it, a small item remained on the table, glinting in the light from the lamp above.

It's the key for the torture device! Jonas realized straight away.

"Remove your cage, sissy, and listen up," Martin ordered. "I don't have time to say this more than once.

"I know you still think that you don't want me to turn you into a prissy little sissy even if you are well on your way to becoming one. Here's your chance to prove me wrong. You get to use your little cock today to show me whether you're more boy than girl.

"The little shit's here and I don't feel up to minding that snot-nosed spoiled brat today. I'll leave you in charge while I go and take care of some stuff.

"Here's the deal: While I'm away you will have the little shit wank your tiny cock until you cum from it. Then I want to see him taste your meagre load.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear, Jonas: You are not allowed to wank your own little pathetic cocklet. Don't even touch your own junk. It is completely hands off to you. Remember, there are cameras all over the house so I will see if you try to wank or otherwise attempt to get yourself off.

"No humping the furniture or whatever else you might think of doing to get yourself off. You will sorely disappoint me if you try to circumvent my rules. You do know what happens when people disappoint me, don't you, sissy?"

Jonas gulped as he tugged on the cock cage, slowly pulling the catheter out of his urethra. "You'll use that wh-whip on me," he guessed.

"Just like Kurt, yes. Only I won't be beating your arse with it, no, I'll use it on your balls and your cock. I'll make them hurt so much you'll wish you had been born a nutless girl, sissy.

"And when I'm done, I'll make you lock your useless cock back up and I won't let you unlock it until Christmas, at the very earliest. I wish you luck trying to get excused from every games class at school for the rest of the year because you won't get to remove the cage even then."

Jonas gasped.

"So, sissy. Make the little shit get you off. Wank his tiny prick and teach him how it's done first, if you want. I don't care, as long as he gets you off afterwards. Make him do it twice, at the very least, sissy.

"The more times you can get him to wank you off and the more of your immature cum you can make him eat, the more you'll convince me that you have yet to turn into a girl who just happens to have a tiny cock that needs to be punished. Got it?"

There was only one answer Jonas could provide and so he nodded. He didn't want to hurt Jackie but nor did he want to feel the riding crop cracking against his precious nuts ever again; the pain had been unbearable the first time. He kind of understood Kurt doing it to him, although the man had seemed much keener to carry out his given task than Jonas felt about his now.

"How long will you be gone?" he asked, subduedly.

"It's ten thirty now, I'll be back around three. My brother's picking his little brat up between half past three to quarter to four."

"Okay," Jonas said, not at all pleased with the situation, as he placed the lock ring on the table next to all the other parts of the miniscule chastity device he'd been wearing.

Martin swept up the pieces and Jonas's phone before he went to the front door. There he picked up the boy's clothes and opened the door. "Try to enjoy yourself," the man said, sardonically. "Are you a tough lad or a little prissy girl? Today, the choice is yours."

The door shut, locking Jonas in the house with Jackie. He contemplated the man's final question as he set out to find the little boy. He wasn't in the living room, Jonas noted after checking the big sofa in front of the TV.

Figures, he told himself. The TV wasn't on which he was sure it would have been, had the boy been sitting in front of it. He looked in the man's hobby room, but he only heard the whirr from one of the large 3D printers – an endless source of envy for Jonas who would have given his left little finger if he could have one of the man's printers.

Oh, what I wouldn't give, for even just his sissy printer. He would part with more than just his finger, if only… But he would never ask, he realized as he backed out of the room again. Now, where the feck is Jackie? he wondered.

He found the door to the basement both shut and securely locked when he tested the handle, not that he genuinely believed Martin would have let his young nephew venture down into that hellish part of the house. But he was quickly running out of options.

The French doors to the garden were locked and that didn't come as a surprise to Jonas either; the man had told him they'd be locked in the house before he had left.

This left just two doors, one that he had never seen open and another that he knew led to the man's bathroom.

He was about to cross the hall to try the door to the unknown room when he heard a low noise coming from the bathroom.

He knocked on the shut door, softly, without opening it. "Jackie, are you in there?"

A quiet splashing sound was the only reply from the bathroom.

Jonas stood for a moment, uncertain of what he should do. He didn't want to intrude on the person in the bathroom, who he deduced could only be Jackie as Martin hadn't mentioned anything about anyone else being present in the house.

He put me in charge, he remembered and that meant he was also responsible for the little five-year-old who was alone in the bathroom, doing something that Jonas couldn't tell what was.

The splashing continued, meaning the boy had to be playing with water or perhaps bathing on his own and this, Jonas knew, could be dangerous. Until he had turned seven or eight, he had never been left alone in the bathroom while bathing, something he had welcomed as that meant he'd always had someone to prattle to while washing.

But Jackie was obviously in the bathroom all by himself since the two boys were, as far as Jonas knew, alone in Martin's house.

Jonas pushed down on the door handle and the door opened. Hot and moist air emerged from the room as he pushed the door further open so he could peek in. He saw Jackie sitting in Martin's oversized bathtub, the young boy's upper body was covered in a film of white sudsy bubbles.

Jackie looked up and smiled widely at Jonas. "Hi! Come in with me," he said in a bidding voice.

Jonas considered the little boy's demand. There was ample space for both of them in the oval shaped bathtub. It was much larger than a normal tub, certainly it was larger than the one at his house. It could have held two adults, easily, and neither of the boys were anywhere close to what you'd call big for their age.

"Okay," he agreed after only a short moment's deliberation.

"Good. You can wash me."

"Alright," Jonas accepted the chore he'd been given without protest as it meant he'd have to get close to the younger boy. He even had to touch him and those touches could very easily turn into more.

I'll wank him in the bath, he decided as he parked his bum on Martin's loo, this one was a normal toilet with a perfectly comfortable seat, much better than the slave squat loo in the basement, Jonas determined as he started to pee and continued to contemplate what he'd do to Jackie in the tub.

He'd disguise the wanking as a simple hygienic necessity, which he hoped would trigger a desire in the little boy to experience it again after the bath; a desire that he might exploit to get what he needed from the boy.

I must make him wank me, too. And not just once. He hoped it would be possible to make the boy do it without pushing him into it. He simply wasn't sure he'd have in it him to do something like that.

But I'm not just going to let Martin beat me and treat me like I'm a little girl, either, he told himself. He only had to find a way to do what was necessary without hurting the smaller boy too much in the process.

"Aren't you coming in?" Jackie asked.

"Eh? Oh, yes. I had to pee first," Jonas explained, his cheeks reddening. He had to fight hard to keep his stream from stopping.

"You coulda just peed in the bath."

"You do that?"

"Yep," Jackie shamelessly confirmed. "Do you always sit when you pee?"

"Erh…" Jonas said, embarrassedly. He had sat on the toilet from habit but there'd been no reason to do so. Why did I sit? I'm not wearing the torture device. I could've stood. I should have. Only girls and sissies sit to pee. Proper boys stand when they pee. Jackie probably does or he wouldn't have asked and he's only five. Well, he pees in the bath too and that's just disgusting. Did I ever do that?

"No, I was just feeling like sitting down," he finally stated, stopping his train of thoughts before it would get out of hand.

"You're not pooing?"

"Eh, no, I don't need to do that." He had done so as part of his morning routine but he didn't feel comfortable sharing that information with the younger boy.

"Good," Jackie asserted. "It looked like you were going to. It stinks."

"Uh… Yes, I guess it can," Jonas concurred, still feeling embarrassed by discussing private matters such as using the toilet.

It was the kind of questions Aunt Megan might ask him. Whenever he visited her, or when she was over at his house, and he had to go to the loo, he could be certain that she would ask if 'everything came out alright' when he returned afterwards.

It's like she thinks I'm always constipated, he thought, and his cheeks turned even redder with the recollection. Bodily functions, especially pooing, were private matters as far as he was concerned. Jackie, on the other hand, didn't seem at all troubled by discussing it, just like his aunt wasn't either.

"I'm only peeing," Jonas said to end the discussion. "And I'm all done now," he gratefully added as he stood from the toilet.

"Good! Come in now, wash me."

Yes, master, Jonas answered silently and flushed the toilet. He was beginning to see why Martin thought the little boy was spoiled. He carefully scaled the side of the tub and gingerly sat behind the youngster with his legs spread open.

When he was situated, he grabbed Jackie by his hips and pulled the smaller boy closer to him. He had a mission and was determined to get started before he might lose his resolve. He moved his hands further around the small boy's waist and down between the boy's thighs. With just the slightest bit of outward pressure, Jackie spread his legs wide without needing to be told, making Jonas wonder if the boy knew what he was about to do.

Does he want it? It sure seemed that way to Jonas. He's trusting me not to harm him, he gathered wondering if he himself might have been as accepting to an older kid at five.

Yeah, probably, he surmised. And it isn't like what I'm going to do to him will hurt, he comforted himself as he slid the fingers of his right hand along Jackie's smooth thigh towards the centre of the boy's body.

It was just a short trip and his finger tip soon touched the side of the silky pouch, then the small relaxed penis. He moved his left hand up on the boy's stomach and gently nudged him, making him lean backwards.

"Ooh," Jonas heard Jackie's soft exclaim when he pinched the small boy's penis with two fingers. There were no objections to the touch, nor did the boy try to pull his legs back together; he simply carried on playing with the small yellow plastic tugboat like he had been doing since before Jonas joined him the bath.

Jonas decided to keep quiet as the little boy pushed his small toy boat from side to side in the tub while making a soft puttering sound with his lips, mimicking the boat's engine.

It didn't seem like Jackie needed an explanation for why Jonas was fiddling with his penis, slowly and gently sliding the foreskin from the boy's acorn-sized glans and back over it again.

The older boy could tell his fiddling was having the desired effect, Jackie's penis was gradually growing firmer, making it easier to work the foreskin back and forth the short length it would travel.

Jonas's penis remained flaccid, however; he wasn't at all turned on by what he was doing. It was simply what he thought he must do in order to get the boy to return the favour, which ultimately was what Martin wanted. And that was more important than what Jonas wanted. Or Jackie for that matter.

He'll whip my balls, Jonas thought, reminding himself of what would happen if he failed the mission he'd been given. If Jackie didn't enjoy what he would have to do, then so be it; his tiny balls wouldn't be the target of the man's anger.

Jonas's thoughts were interrupted when he felt Jackie spread his legs wider, the yellow boat floating away, out of his reach. The boy ignored the boat, his head bowed, eyes fixed on what was happening to his penis just below the waterline.

The older boy wondered what was going through the little boy's mind, if he realized that this was no ordinary washing. He must know, he thought just as Jackie gasped, quickly exhaling the contents of his lungs before pulling in a new deep breath.

Feels wicked, doesn't it? Jonas silently asked, increasing the speed at which his fingers played with the little boy's stiff willy.

His own penis was starting to react to the situation, filling out some in empathy with the little lad's apparent pleasure. It'll be time for you later, he promised it.

"Ooh," Jackie said again, just as an involuntary spasm hit his right leg.

Jonas pulled the boy tighter against his stomach and held him there as he increased the speed yet again. Based on Jackie's reaction, it couldn't be long until the little boy would experience an orgasm.

His first? Jonas wondered, feeling fairly confident that it would be. He hadn't made the little boy cum when he had sucked his small willy, the first time he'd been told to mind the kid. This time, though, he was going to make sure the kid would cum. And then, I'll ask him to 'wash' mine.

His penis was throbbing now. He couldn't remember the last time it had been so hard, firmly pressing against one of the little boy's buttocks. There was no pain, just a dire craving for release.

Today, he would experience his first climax in… Who cares now? he quickly decided. I just have to get Jackie to wank me, he thought and just then the child gasped again.

Nearly there, Jonas realized with relief. The muscles in his hand and arm were starting to tire from the unusual task of bringing a small kid to his first ever orgasm. He gripped the lad's ribcage firmer still as his other hand put in the last bit of effort required.

The water splashed between Jackie's legs; he simply couldn't keep them still as the older boy kept washing his willy in a way that reminded him of the good feelings he'd experienced when Jonas had sucked on it. It felt much more intense now. He shuddered with the feelings building inside of him.

Jonas felt the little boy shudder, then sensed a sudden warmness spread around his right hand's fingers. It was only a moment later, when his index finger moved slightly and it was hit by a powerful squirt much warmer than the surrounding bathwater, that he understood what was taking place.

"Jackie!" he screeched, quickly moving his hand from the kid's still stiff and flexing willy.

Jackie cupped his willy with one of his hands. "It feels sooo good," he stated dreamingly.

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nirvana or hell?

"Oh, that's just disgusting," Jonas admonished as he washed his hands with fresh water from the tap. "You got it on my fingers."

"It's only pee," Jackie said with childish glee. "Was my willy real dirty?" he asked.

"E-eh…? Oh, yes. It was super filthy," Jonas stated.

"You washed it much longer than Mummy ever did."

"Did it feel good?"

"Uh-huh." Jackie nodded. "What will you wash next?" he asked with a twinkle in his young eyes. His parents had never made a wash feel quite as good as Jonas had.

"I think, uh… Perhaps… I think… Maybe you should wash mine now?"

"Is it dirty?"

"I think so," Jonas acknowledged with a small tinge of embarrassment, although he couldn't really be blamed for that. He had not been able to wash his penis properly for a very long time, after all. The cock cage had been in the way. But now it wasn't, he realized, and he carried on in a slightly uplifted voice. "So, you better wash it good."

"Like you washed mine?"

"Precisely!"

"'Kay. But then you have to wash me after. All of me," Jackie demanded.

"I will," Jonas assured as the young child started to move.

Jackie's arms weren't nearly as long as Jonas's and he just rotated in place, ending up face-to-face with the larger boy whose penis twitched expectantly as he reached for it, the head poking out of the water like it was a squat periscope.

Jonas gasped when he felt the youngster grip his penis; there was no preamble, one moment his penis had been twitching freely and in the next it was clutched firmly by the little one.

Jackie didn't waste any time, as soon as his fingers were firmly wrapped around the older boy's stiff willy, he tugged the foreskin back and bared the helmet-shaped glans.

"Give me the soap," he demanded, as if he were a miniature surgeon. "This needs a proper wash."

Jonas wondered what he had gotten himself into as he reached for the liquid soap standing next to the bigger bottle of the plutonium-coloured bubble-bath, from which Jackie must have poured a sizeable amount into the tub. The grip on his stiff penis felt as if the younger boy was trying to strangle it.

A bit of soap will make it slipperier, he hoped, as he snapped open the small bottle and handed it to Jackie. He was glad for not having asked the small boy to wash his nuts, thinking that he probably wouldn't have survived the same kind of death grip on the most tender part of his anatomy.

Jackie turned the bottle upside-down and tried to one-handedly squeeze some soap from it. His small fingers didn't quite have the strength required and huffing with annoyance, he let go of Jonas's penis and used both of his hands to squeeze the bottle.

By this time, the soap in the bottle had flowed to the opening and a vast amount of it squirted out and quickly covered Jonas's still bared glans.

The older boy gasped at the sudden coldness while Jackie kept squeezing the bottle and pushed out more of the soap over his penis.

When Jackie at last was satisfied that enough soap to handle the job had been poured, he handed back the bottle to Jonas who placed it back on the edge of the tub where he'd found it, now considerably lighter.

The small lad grasped Jonas's still rigid penis with one hand just below the glans and slid the foreskin further back. He rubbed the soap into the blueish skin in a way that felt so exquisite to the older boy that he couldn't help but squirm from the sensation.

Oh shit, Jonas thought with his eyes closed. This was what he had imagined Allie's fingers on his cock would feel like. This exact feeling was what he had desired when he had sat slightly inebriated and kissed the girl of his dreams behind a stack of pallets in some isolated alley in Chania, Crete. Only, back then, there had been a firm layer of printed plastic between her fingers and his cock. A layer of pink plastic.

Before Jonas's recollection of the insufferable laughter from Allie – the girl he had desperately, and secretly, yearned for to be his girlfriend, ever since they'd met the year before – could spoil the moment, the small fingers presently on his glans began to feel better still.

The soap Jackie had poured onto Jonas's firm penis was frothing as he started to mimic the way the older boy had cleaned his smaller penis. The foreskin slid easily up and down, sliding in the thick film of soap. The splashing and slurping sounds this generated were funny to the younger boy and so he 'washed' the older boy's penis with more fervour, hoping that the sounds would intensify.

The older boy's penis was getting ever more slippery and Jackie increased his hold on it, prompting a moan from the older boy, as he kept stroking it.

Oh, god! Jonas opened his eyes just in time to see a squirt of nearly transparent goo shoot out from the white frothy slime encompassing his stiffy and Jackie's fingers. It struck the smaller boy's chest and already another shot was on its way.

Jonas shuddered through another two contractions of his perineum and his scrotum before he realized the little boy was still wanking him at full speed.

"Ooh, Ja-Jackie… You can stuh-stop, now," he said, stuttering and panting.

"No!" Jackie flatly dismissed the request. "You're the little boy," he explained, slightly out of breath. "And I'm the washer. Your willy's still very dirty."

But… It's never been this clean before, Jonas thought, wincing with the sensation of the soap starting to sting his post-climatic and ultra-sensitive penis. Yet, he didn't stop the boy. His penis was still hard, he hadn't been allowed an orgasm in months, or so it felt, and if Jackie was going to make him cum again, who was he to object?

I'm just the little boy, he told himself, repeating Jackie's words, and resigned himself to the ministration of the younger boy. It was already starting to feel good again.

Jonas was panting. He was on the brink of his second orgasm in almost as many minutes. Just then, he felt Jackie's grip loosen and in the next moment his stiffy was flexing freely in the water.

"All clean," the little boy declared.

No! Jonas practically screamed on the inside. He was so close. Just one more touch, one measly up-and-down stroke and he was certain he'd cum from it. Please, keep going.

"It isn't clean yet," he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth as quickly as he could articulate them. Already the feeling was ebbing, though it wouldn't take long to bring it back on track.

"I'm the washer," Jackie firmly asserted. "Was! I was the washer and I say when it's clean. It's all clean," he repeated and spun on his bum until he faced away from the older boy. "Now, you're the washer and I'm the little boy. So, wash my back, and do it good!" he ordered.

Jonas sighed as he reached for the liquid soap; there would be no second cum for him. Least not now, he thought. There would be later. Come hell or high water, you'll wank me again, he swore as he started to smear the little boy's shoulders with soap.

"Stand up," he told Jackie a minute later. He had reached the waterline and the tyke's neck, and his shoulders and upper back were glistening.

When Jackie was upright, Jonas proceeded downwards and reached the point where back turned into small bum. He hadn't been instructed to wash the boy's rear end and momentarily considered whether he should do so or if the boy wanted to wash that part himself.

Oh, screw it, he decided; his hands were covered in soap already and Jackie was probably still too young to think that any of his body parts were special and shouldn't be touched by anyone but himself.

Jonas hadn't started to think like that until he was seven or eight and then it was only because his mum had told him he was old enough to wash his penis, that it (and his bum) was private. Now, at the age of nearly fourteen, Martin had taught him otherwise. There were absolutely no parts of Jonas that were private while he was with the evil man. He couldn't hide any part of his body from the man, no matter how humiliating this was.

He placed his hands on the outer sides of the small buttocks and began to gently massage them, covering them with suds. Jackie started to giggle just before he, Jonas, slid his fingers along the crevice and between the boy's thighs.

"Open," he bid, softly and evenly, expecting Jackie to relax his bottom and perhaps spread his knees a bit.

Instead, Jackie held the side of the tub as he bent forwards and pushed his little tushie back at Jonas.

"Oh," Jonas muttered when he without warning established eye contact with the little kid's butthole. It was a mere twenty-five or thirty centimetres [c. 10" to 12"] from his face.

It wasn't often he'd seen this part of a person before, certainly not from this short distance, and it was strangely fascinating for Jonas to behold this the most private place of Jackie's body and he spent the next ten seconds doing so.

It wasn't the tidiest place, either, he noticed, at last; specked as it was with tiny bits and pieces of poo, it reminded him of his task. The boy had commanded Jonas to wash him 'good', and he had a flitting thought that involved taking the kid to the basement slave loo and give him a proper rinse with the hose there. That would surely teach him to wipe his bum better, Jonas figured.

The door to the basement was locked, though, so that was out of the question. Instead, they could use the bidet, which was conveniently located in the very room they were currently in, but this would mean getting out of the tub and getting water all over the floor, which would only add to the list of things he'd have to clean up before Martin returned.

That was far too much work, he decided and opted to only use his soapy fingers to clean the little lad's bum. He carefully placed the palm of his right hand on the boy's tiny wrinkled scrotum.

Immediately, Jackie began to laugh and wobble so much that Jonas thought he might fall over and he quickly grabbed the tyke's hip with his left hand.

"Stand still," Jonas said and slid his right hand backwards while firmly pressing it against Jackie's perineum and across the lad's butthole, essentially wiping the small boy's bottom. He repeated the action, increasing his hold on the squirming lad's hip. "Don't wriggle so much, I'm the washer now."

"It tickles," Jackie squealed, happily. "Is it dirty, too?"

"Very," Jonas affirmed, willing himself not to check the condition of his hand. He moved it into the water and sloshed it about before he repeated the wiping motion.

As the soap started to clear, he could tell that what he was doing was having an effect, but there were still some pieces obstinately clinging to some of the folds near the centre of the lad's wrinkly anus.

Shifting hands, he carefully pushed a single soapy finger against Jackie's bum hole. He wanted to gently scrape out the flecks but just then Jackie wriggled at the tickling sensation of the older boy's hand on his hip and pushed his bottom further back.

Jonas froze in place, his left index finger was now inside the small boy's bum, up to the first knuckle. He had not intended to violate the boy like this ever again and he felt extremely bad for having done so. He waited for Jackie's sobs to start, preparing himself to start consoling the boy, searching for the proper words to form an acceptable apology.

"Ugh!" Jackie exclaimed, then giggled again. "Your finger's in my bum!" he stated, which Jonas didn't need to be told. Jackie's anus was spasming around his finger in sync with his giggles.

Though the youngster's apparent delight was puzzling to Jonas, he was at the same time very glad that he was dealing with a little giggling boy rather than a bawling one.

"Is it dirty inside too?" Jackie asked, sobering up a bit.

"Uh-huh," Jonas breathed affirmatively. "Oh yes. I'll have to clean it real good," he said without really knowing why.

My finger's in his bum! The realization should have repulsed him, he knew. It would have repulsed him before he had met Martin and his life changed. The tip of his finger was in Jackie's little butthole and Martin hadn't ordered him to push it in there. And he was about to go even further.

"Okay," Jackie consented.

"I'm going to push my finger all the way in and out," Jonas clarified. "Like I did last time. Do you remember that?"

"Yes!" Jackie said. "Will you put my willy in your mouth, too?" he wondered.

"No. This is just cleaning. And I won't lick your bum either," Jonas added. "I'll only use my finger to clean it really well."

"Oh."

Jackie sounded disappointed to Jonas, but the older boy didn't care. He wasn't going to suck anyone's cock or lick their bums without Martin ordering him to do so.

"I'm the washer so you got to do as I say," Jonas reminded Jackie that the rules established by the young boy worked both ways.

"I get to clean your bum after," Jackie said, making Jonas regret his decision to not immediately remove his finger from the boy's bum. The little boy had shown no mercy the first time he'd fingered Jonas. It was only fair that Jackie was given the chance to reciprocate, however, and Jonas was a very just boy.

"Deal," he agreed. "But you can't do it like you did the last time. You can't make it hurt."

Jonas wondered how Jackie's simple request/order to be washed had evolved into the finger-fucking he was now performing on his small charge. His index finger was sliding lazily and smoothly, and fully in and out of the lad's relaxed opening.

He quickly checked his finger from time to time, dipping it into the water to wash off the soap, and looked for traces of poo. He found none, yet his finger kept returning to the little boy's anus and with a gentle push slipped straight back inside the hot tightness within.

Jonas knew he wasn't washing the boy anymore and he assumed that Jackie had never wanted his bum to be cleaned like this in the first place. Still, now that he had started, it seemed like he just couldn't stop and he wondered why.

Maybe it was because he wasn't looking forward to having Jackie's finger in his butt, although that seemed silly, considering the fact he'd had a life-sized replica of the small tyke's hand up his arse. One or even all of his small fingers can't be a problem, he thought.

Or, perhaps it was because Jackie wasn't objecting to having his bum hole probed with one of Jonas's fingers. The little boy was still leaning forwards and pushing back his pert rear-end, actively involved in the activity. He could have ended it any time he wanted by simply straightening his legs or clenching his buttocks, but he didn't.

"Do you like this?" Jonas finally asked, giving into his curiosity.

"It feels strange," Jackie responded. "Is it clean now?"

"Just a bit more," Jonas said. Why did I say that? The boy's rectum had been clean even before he had started to 'wash' it, as clean as anyone could expect such a place to be, anyway, considering what passed through it. The only few bits of filth had been on the outside of the kid's anus. There was absolutely no reason that he should prolong Jackie's discomfort, however minor that it seemed to be.

Only, it feels… Good, he admitted to himself after careful deliberation. Jackie was compliantly allowing his bum to be probed by Jonas's finger. Jonas knew from experience what this felt like, and while he made sure to do it in a way that wouldn't hurt the kid, he was certain it didn't feel good, not even nice, to the little one.

That Jackie was accepting even just a bit of discomfort obviously meant that the kid knew and accepted that Jonas was in control. At least, that was how Jonas saw it. And, being in control was much better than being controlled, he decided.

It made him feel good. Not 'Nirvana'-good, nothing came close to the feeling he experienced while climaxing, but he did enjoy the significance of his finger sliding in to the hilt in the little boy's butt before he gently withdrew it all the way back out again. Jackie was submitting to him. That made him feel powerful.

If only my finger was longer, he wished as he stuck it back in and wiggled it inside the boy. He'd be able to assert his domination much better if only he could push deeper into the small kid, he figured.

His penis was flexing again, he suddenly noticed, unsure of when it had stiffened or whether it had gone soft at all. It was demanding satisfaction and Jonas knew he wouldn't be getting any while plunging his finger in and out of the lad's butt.

"All clean," he declared when he somewhat reluctantly pulled his finger from Jackie's butthole for the last time. He didn't even check the state of it.

"Your turn now," Jackie stated, immediately.

Submitting to the whims of the much younger boy wasn't remotely fun, nor did it feel good. Still, Jonas knelt on his hands and knees in the tub which brought his butt far enough above the water and rendered it easily accessible to Jackie.

"Good doggie!" Jackie's praise was more fit for a pet, but Jonas was certain that any self-respecting dog would promptly turn and bite anyone who'd try to stick their fingers into his butt.

Jonas could do no such thing, of course; Jackie had submitted to him for the better part of fifteen minutes and he would do the same in return. That was only fair.

Besides, the young boy was being more careful than he had been the first time and although it didn't feel great to Jonas having his anus probed by the boy's fingers, it didn't hurt any either.

However, being treated like a dog wasn't part of the deal. It was humiliating to Jonas. "I'm a boy, Jackie," he informed the kid. "I'm not your dog."

Even so, he didn't feel tough at all as he patiently knelt there, waiting for Jackie to grow bored from playing with his arse. Nor did it make him feel like a prissy little girl, not exactly, but he knew that in the eyes of Martin there were only those two options. According to the man, if Jonas wasn't a tough lad, he could only be a girl.

Jonas knew what Martin called girls who just happened to have a little penis, they were sissies. More importantly, he knew what the man liked to do to them: torture and fuck them silly.

Jonas shuddered from the thought.

"Am I clean yet?" he asked, growing impatient. He was counting himself lucky that he'd pooed that morning.

"I'm the washer now," Jackie responded and Jonas realized he was in for the long haul when the younger boy pushed another finger into his butt.

Chapter Thirty-Nine
TV time

Jackie wasn't satisfied until he had pushed four of his fingers into Jonas's bum and had spent the next ten minutes pulling them out and pushing them back in, exactly like the older boy had done to him with a single finger.

By then Jonas felt as if the outer layer of his skin had started to dissolve from the bathwater and he called it quits as soon as Jackie relinquished his authority of being the 'washer.' Despite the little boy's objections, he opened the drain at the bottom of the tub.

After a quick rinse with the handheld sprayer, Jonas first towelled Jackie, then himself, and the two boys exchanged the steaming bathroom for the leather sofa in front of the TV.

Jackie didn't seem to mind being naked, apart from his white socks all of the young boy's clothes were laying disregarded on the bathroom floor, whilst Jonas didn't have much of a choice since Martin had taken all of his clothes with him when the man had hurriedly left the house.

Jonas didn't mind all that much either, truth be told; by now he'd been naked plenty of times in Martin's house, although, not quite as naked as he was now. His bare penis was making him feel slightly self-conscious even if he and Jackie had spent time together in the nude once before.

It wasn't like this, he thought as he tried to shield his boner from the younger boy in a non-conspicuous way. It was throbbing with his heartbeat, as if it wanted to make full use of the time available before it would undoubtedly be locked back up again.

That Jackie's attention was entirely focused on the TV as they watched one show after another on Nick Jr helped Jonas feel slightly better even though his penis remained hard throughout.

Jonas desperately wanted to wank, but couldn't so much as touch his stiff penis; the rules set by Martin regarding this were very clear and the punishment for breaking them was more than harsh enough to make sure he wouldn't try to circumvent them. Even so, his erection was unrelenting and he glanced furtively at Jackie from time to time.

The younger boy lounged on the seat next to him, his head and shoulders propped up by the seatback and his legs were bent at the knees, his lower legs dangling over the edge of the cushion. He was fully engrossed in the ad currently playing on the TV.

Jonas didn't much care for the cheap toys being advertised, they were far too childish for his taste. He wanted to play with his own toy, but since he was well aware that he couldn't, he wanted Jackie to play with it for him.

However, the silly toys seemed to appeal greatly to Jackie; the young boy's gaze never left the TV, not even when Jonas moved his hand away and revealed his flexing penis to the youngster.

Jonas sighed with frustration. He lacked the confidence to simply ask Jackie if he wanted to wank his boner again – he couldn't even get himself to ask the kid to look at it – and ordering the kid to do so was well beyond his limits.

Look at it, Jonas silently willed the younger boy. He hoped that the boy would see his boner, that he'd reach over and wrap his little hand around it of his own volition. Then Jonas could simply encourage the kid to keep going. But, the fear of rejection kept him from outright asking.

He pushed his hips forwards, but Jackie just kept on staring at the TV as if he was sleeping with his eyes open. The boy picked at a scab on his arm, fiddled with his little flaccid penis – this simple action only made Jonas's twitch with jealousy – and then picked his nose, meaning the youngster couldn't be asleep.

Jonas turned his attention back to the TV again, relaxing his hips. Another show had started but the plot was too thin to keep his mind occupied and his focus returned to his hard cock.

What time is it? he wondered, suddenly afraid that they might not have enough time before Martin would return and ruin his chances of another visit to 'Nirvana'. It was a bizarre notion, almost absurd, considering that it would only take about half a minute of determined wanking to reach that state again. Still, he picked up the remote and selected the clock.

Just after noon, he thought, which his stomach could have told him if he had been paying attention to it. Jonas allowed himself to relax a bit, there was plenty of time left. Almost three hours.

"I'm hungry," Jackie announced, his eyes not once leaving Anna and her friends on the TV.

"Oh." Jonas hadn't been prepared for this very basic need of his young charge. He wasn't used to being around small kids. Although Noah had a brother, he was only two years younger than Jonas and they never spent much time with him.

He couldn't just ignore Jackie's hunger, though.

"I'll see what Martin's got," he said and got up from the sofa.

"Your willy's sticking out," Jackie noted, sat up and gave it a quick tug just as Jonas passed him.

Oh, now you touch it! Jonas thought and almost sat back down again.

"I want mackerel," Jackie announced.

"I don't know if Martin has that," Jonas replied, hoping that he wouldn't.

"He does," Jackie said with absolute confidence.

The little kid was right Jonas saw, upon opening the third kitchen cupboard. Martin had four tins of mackerel bits in tomato sauce, held together in red shrink-wrapped plastic.

"Do you want one or two slices?" he asked towards the living room, raising his voice to be heard over the squeaky sounds designed to keep small children attentive that came from the TV.

"Two!" came the curt reply.

"Thanks," Jonas muttered wryly to himself as he fished four slices of ryebread out of the plastic bag, two for Jackie and two for himself. He was hungry as well, although he didn't really care for mackerel as much as Jackie clearly did.

He found some salami in Martin's fridge, which reminded him of when he had prepared lunch for the man. He hoped Jackie wouldn't be sitting with a small boner, expecting him to suck him off while he munched on his lunch, like the boy's uncle had.

"Do you want mayonnaise on it?" he asked, after covering two of the ryebread slices with the mackerel/tomato sauce mixture. There was still some left so he reluctantly put this on one of his own slices, having been trained by his aunt not to let food go to waste.

"Yes!"

"Figures," he told himself. He had never enjoyed eating mackerel with mayonnaise, but he had seen unfortunate kids who had been sent to school with mackerel on one of their slices of ryebread and they always seemed to eat it with the fatty accessory on top.

What parents don't get is the ryebread soaks up the tomato sauce and when you pick it up to take a bite from it, it breaks into a thousand pieces in your hands, Jonas thought as he squeezed a generous amount of mayonnaise from the tube over the two slices he'd prepared for Jackie. There would be no risk of that here, not when eating it straight away, he supposed, but that very thing had happened to him and he'd seen it happen to other kids too. It always made a mess and that was part of why Jonas didn't much like mackerel. Particularly not as part of his packed school lunches.

He cut Jackie's food into smaller bite-sized pieces and placed them on a plate, then placed his own two slices on a second plate. He carried both of the plates and a roll of paper towels to the coffee table in front of the sofa.

"You forgot the milk," Jackie informed him and so Jonas had to return to the kitchen to fetch a glass of milk for the boy and some juice for himself.

The boys ate while watching cartoons, which was not an entirely loathsome experience to Jonas who seldom got to eat in front of the TV; it certainly was a no-go in his own house. But, here in Martin's house, he was in charge. For the moment, anyway, and that was an even rarer experience to him.

When they had finished eating, both boys reclined on the sofa, satisfied now that their hunger had been sated. Well, Jackie was satisfied, Jonas less so. His other hunger was returning, his penis inflating in seconds. A quick check of the time revealed it was now 12:51, which left him more than two hours to have Jackie wank him off.

Despite feeling horny, Jonas was feeling slightly drowsy as well. The panic he had felt earlier in the morning had worn off long ago and he was feeling quite alright sharing the sofa with Jackie.

Just those cartoons are so silly… They were boring to him and he closed his eyes.

He awoke to a chortle of laughter right next to him. He lay for a bit, feeling cosy, then his heartrate suddenly increased. What's the time? he asked himself, shooting upwards and grabbing the remote.

Two fifteen? Jonas groaned. Martin would be returning in less than forty-five minutes and he had only managed to cum from being wanked by Jackie once. He needed at least a second cum to fulfil the requirements set by the man or he risked being punished.

His boner had vanished, either from the panic or during his sleep; Jonas wasn't sure when or why, but he knew it was bad news. Jackie would never pay any attention to it in its current state.

Jonas could think of only one thing to do but he just wasn't brave enough to do it.

Hey, Jackie, want to wank my penis? he silently rehearsed over and over, but it didn't sound right. Oy, kid, wank my cock, was better but that felt so out of character that he simply couldn't make himself say that.

Want to wash my willy again? he decided was the best way to achieve his objective but then both boys heard a key being inserted in the front door and the bolt sliding back as it was unlocked.

"Crap," Jonas muttered.

"Lads, get dressed. Your dad will be here soon, Jackie," Martin said as he entered his house and noted the state of the boys. He wasn't surprised to find them naked. He knew only too well his nephew's desire to run around with no clothes on – and of course, he had all of Jonas's clothes in a shopping bag.

He set a large cardboard box on the floor as he waited for Jackie to clear the room, then gave Jonas the bag.

"Put your cage back on," he said. "And be quick about it, don't let Jackie see it."

Jonas nodded, somewhat happy that his penis was flaccid now that he had to lock it away in a hurry. It would have been next to impossible to do so while it was hard. The lock ring slid in place expertly, then a dab of lube on the catheter, the all-too-familiar burning sensation as it slid into his urethra. Finally, the locking mechanism went in, key turned and handed over to Martin.

He put his clothes on as quickly as he could and was pulling his sweater over his head as Jackie emerged from the bathroom.

And just then, the doorbell rang.

Martin answered the door and Jonas studied the man who entered the house. He was a slightly older and heavier bearded version of Martin, but it was easy to see they were brothers.

"Daddy!" Jackie squealed running to his father, who picked him up and hugged him.

"I hope he was good?" Jackie's dad asked Martin.

"You'll have to ask Jonas over there," Martin said. "I had to go pick up some things for work, Mike."

"You called in a sitter? A boy and on such short notice? How in the world…?"

"He helps me from time to time, gardening and such," Martin explained, diffidently.

"Oh yes, being a nerdy inventor working from home must be a particularly draining occupation," the man commented, ironically, before turning his attention back to Jonas. "I hope my boy behaved."

"He gave me a bath," Jackie said before Jonas had a chance to reply.

"Did he now?"

"Yes! And he did it good! Better than Mummy."

"Oh, that's good," Mike said. "Are you available…?"

"Mike, I'm sure Jonas has better things to do than mind Jackie. He can be quite the handful."

"He was good," Jonas interjected, his heart racing in his chest, as Mike approached him, still carrying his son.

"Here," the man said and held out a 200 DKK [$29 / 27€] note. "That's all I can give you now, unless you have MobilePay?"

Jonas shook his head as he accepted the light green note.

"Well, I sure hope this is enough for your time, I don't have more cash on me. Here's my card as well. Call me, if you want to mind Jackie some other time. Good sitters, especially boys like you, are so hard to find."

"I will," Jonas whispered and nodded.

"Right. Time to go home, munchkin," Mike told Jackie. "Speak soon, Martin."

"Drive safely," Martin said as he let his brother out and shut the door behind him. He turned to face Jonas.

"Give me the money and take your clothes off, sissy," he ordered, icily, holding out his hand.

Jonas handed over the crisp 200 DKK note he'd only just been given. He didn't voice his objection but he felt it was grossly unfair.

"You owe me for that," Martin said and pointed at the big box on the floor. "This is just the first payment."

Jonas tried to ignore the box. He knew that whatever it contained wouldn't be something he'd enjoy. It'll be like my birthday gift from Aunt Megan, he thought. Only worse.

He hadn't forgotten about Martin's threat to put him in diapers, though the box seemed too big to contain a packet of those.

He removed his clothes in record time, making sure they were neatly bundled at the door. He moved over to the dining table and assumed the position behind his chair.

"So, you washed the little shit good," Martin said. "And you fed him, too," he added, studying the plates and glasses left behind on the coffee table. He went over, picked up the remote and switched off the TV, killing Dora in mid-sentence.

He walked to the kitchen and took note of the mess that Jonas had made there.

"I-I… I was going to clean it up before you got home," Jonas said. He hadn't moved from his spot. "You're early…"

"So, it's my fault now, is it? You treated the brat like a king and left the mess for me to clean up? Tell me, Jonas, did you find time to get him to wank your little cock, like I told you to?"

"I… I, he did that."

"I find that very hard to believe. He just told Mike he had a grand time with you. Did you tell him to lie?"

"No. We, we were in the tub… He was bathing when I checked on him. I got in with him. And I wanked him and then he, then he wa-wanked me."

"In the tub? In my bathroom?" Martin asked, striding the few paces over to Jonas.

"Ye-yes?"

"You stupid twat!" Martin bellowed and delivered a firm spank to Jonas's butt.

"Ow!" Jonas screeched. "What did you do that for?" he asked and rubbed his buttock.

"Hands behind your neck," Martin ordered. "Shit! I should've known you can't be trusted with even the most basic instructions."

"I did what you told me," Jonas claimed, wounded by the unfair accusation. He had had followed the man's instructions and felt certain he would have managed to succeed if only Martin hadn't come back early.

"I wanted to have it on video, idiot child. Do you think I have cameras in my bathroom?"

"You don't?"

"What kind of pervert do you think I am? Do you really think I'd want to watch myself taking a shit?"

Jonas didn't know what to say. He had assumed there were cameras in every room of the man's house, as he knew there were cameras in the living room and the hobby room, not to mention the plethora of cameras in the basement. He knew there were two cameras in the small slave bathroom down there, those he had seen.

He said there are cameras all over the house, didn't he? he wondered.

He couldn't say what kind of pervert he thought the man was, not to his face and certainly not in the mood that Martin was in now.

"No," Jonas muttered, shamefacedly. He was sure Martin might want to record a video of other people doing their private business, if only to humiliate them about it later but he didn't think the man would want to record himself in embarrassing situations.

"Did you not do anything on the couch?" Martin asked.

"We watched TV," Jonas explained. "And ate lunch."

"Sexually," Martin clarified.

"Oh. No…"

"Typical." Martin put his hand tightly over Jonas's mouth. "Keep your hands where they are, little girl. Don't make a sound and do not fight me."

Jonas heard the man unzip his fly, then felt the warmth from the man's cock as it was pushed up against his lower back.

"Push your arse back, girl. You know you want this," Martin taunted. "If only Mike knew what kind of boy you really are I'm not so sure he'd be in any hurry to have you mind his little brat."

Oh no, please, no! the boy thought, tears springing to his eyes as Martin manoeuvred his cock into position.

To Be Continued