This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage wherever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional; the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.
By: Tim Keppler
I honestly never expected to see Mr. Charles Markham again. (That was the name on his driver's license. "People call me Charlie, mostly," he'd said.) I figured he'd skip town, and we'd be done with him. But, he took me at my word, and at 5:55pm (roughly), one week later, the doorbell rings, and here he is on my doorstep. I invite him in.
In the week between our first encounter and this one, I've done a little research with Jason's help and that of a couple of his friends at the Symphony, and discovered that Charlie, the molester, found out about our party through one of his neighbors, a bassist with the Symphony, whom he met at their carrel of mailboxes one evening reading one of our invitations. It was the picture we used for last years holiday cards, showing Kevin and Kai in the foreground, attached to the legs of Jason and Kenny. I'm standing behind and between Jason and Kenny, with my arms around their waists. "Happy Holidays from Our Family to Yours," our card had read. This card reads "Party! Party!"
"Cute card," Charlie had commented.
"Yeah, we have a new Concertmaster, and he's celebrating." And, piecing this together, we think he turned the card over to check out the details of the party – time, place – and that's all this guy needed. He arrived at the party unbeknownst to anyone, and appeared to be the guest of a guest. The bassist is nearly beside himself with remorse when he discovers that he was the enabler for this horror, and I have to talk him out of a major rage that's almost more palpable than Kenny's.
"Please leave him alone," I ask. I don't want him `at large'. I want him right where he is so I can track him. We're going to take care of this privately. Please don't mess with him." He agrees, but isn't happy about the decision. I think there are probably a number of people that would like to kill Charlie. I'm not sure why he's still alive.
As Charlie and I stand in the entryway, I call our house phone from my cell phone. Jason answers from the kitchen. "Is Kai in there with you?" I ask.
"Umm...yeah," he replies.
"Can you take him out to the garage for a few minutes?"
"Umm, sure," he says, confused. "Hold on."
I can hear him chatting with Kai, who is back to being his giggly self. Thankfully, the molestation seems to have had little impact on him, although he's more likely to end up in our bed than he ever was before. He won't let us turn off the light when he goes to bed – afraid of the boogie man, which I imagine he equates with his molester. But, when he's wide awake, he seems to be the same fun-loving little boy he was before, thank god. I hear the garage door in the kitchen open, and then close. "We're here," Jason tells me. "Now what?"
"Just wait there a minute," I say. "Hold on." I motion Charlie into the kitchen and down the basement steps, closing and locking the basement door behind us. "Okay," I say to the phone, "you can bring him back now, but...umm...could you move him to another room? How about suggesting that he play with his blocks in the living room?"
"Okay," Jason replies.
"We have a guest I don't want him to see...or hear. We're in the basement."
"Got it," Jason replies, and we end the call.
By this time, Charlie is at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me, and looking very...submissive. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, he looks up at me. "Can I talk to you?"
"Yeah," I say, giving him an angry look.
"Umm...I'm here because I have to be. I can't go back to prison. They'll never let me out this time, and I'll probably die inside, die quickly. You know that, and so do I. But...I'm also here because I feel...responsible for doing something really...awful to that...umm...little boy. I feel bad about it...really bad. And, I'm sorry. I want you to know that, and hopefully, someday, I want him to know that, too. I'm...sort of...compulsive about this. You know about my other two convictions, but..."
"You've molested other children," I say, flatly.
"Yeah," he says, looking at the floor.
"Girls or boys?"
"All girls," he responds. "Your...umm...son is the...only boy."
He looks up at me. "I'll do whatever you tell me to do. I'll take any punishment you think is right. I don't have a choice, but, also, I feel bad about what I...umm...did. I deserve to be punished, and you deserve to be able to decide what punishment I should...umm...take. But..." Long, long pause. Finally, "Could it be less physically damaging than last time. It...took six stitches to repair it." He hangs his head, having finished his speech.
I wait a long moment. "You do realize how lucky you are just to be alive, I hope. I mean Kenny, the Asian guy that beat you last time, wanted me to kill you outright, just flat out destroy you. You understand that you're here as a result of my...'munificence'?" Now there's a stupid word, but it does reflect my feelings. This guy pisses me off.
"I know," he says, staring at the floor. "I know."
"And I still have to restrain my desire, my longing to annihilate you."
He nods, still staring at the floor.
"Strip," I command, and he does, lickety-split, his clothes neatly folded on one of the chairs. He is absolutely humiliated, but stands and awaits instructions. He is also absolutely hairless. "Turn around and bend over," I say. Parting his ass cheeks, I inspect last week's work. There are six stitches there, and his asshole is still swollen. Good!
I slap him on the ass, and he stands, turning to face me.
"So, what do you think I should do to you today?"
This question catches him completely off guard, and he's confused. "I don't know," he responds.
"Why?" He looks confused. "Why don't you know? You know what it shouldn't be, but have no opinions about what it should be?"
He stares at the floor, silent.
I wait. Finally, "I have a couple of phone calls to make, Charlie. They'll probably take me half an hour. In that time, I think you should devise a punishment that you think is appropriate for what you did to Kai. That's his name, by the way, Kai, the little boy you molested. If I don't think your punishment is severe enough, I'll choose one, and I'll guarantee that you won't like it."
In forty minutes, I'm back in the basement. Charlie is sitting in one of chairs along the back wall, weeping. I stand at the foot of the steps watching him, and finally ask, "So, what's it to be? What do you think I should do to you to punish you for what you did to Kai, and, frankly, what you did to all those other kids?"
"I don't know," he wails. "I...don't...know!"
I stare at him for some minutes. "Are your married?"
"What's your greatest fear?" I'm looking for something I can use as a deterrent, something that really scares him that we can do so he'll remember the consequences of his actions.
He looks up at me almost instantly. "That I'll do this again," he says, sobbing.
Here is an answer I wasn't expecting. I was fishing for some kind of pain, some kind of humiliation that I could inflict to make him remember this. He really does seem contrite, although I have no sense that his contrition is going to be enough to keep him out of some other kid's pants. I sit down next to him and stare at him for several minutes as he sobs. "Wait here," I finally say, "I'll be back in another half hour." I head back up the stairs. An idea has crossed my mind, and I need to research it a bit. After some close, personal time with my computer, I return to the basement.
"How many other children have you molested, besides the ones you were imprisoned for?"
"Four," he sobs.
"And the results? For the kids, I mean?"
"Messed up. One's on drugs. I'm not sure about the others."
"What would you do to ensure that you don't re-offend, that you don't molest any other kids?"
He looks at me sadly, and then down at the floor. "Anything," he whispers.
"There is a treatment that the majority of psychiatrists and psychologists seem to believe is highly effective. In fact, one Danish study found it to reduce the rate of re-offending from 80% to just 2.3%. Pretty successful. Similar Norwegian and German studies have borne out those results. It is radical, though."
He looks up at me quizzically. I've clearly piqued his interest. "What is it?"
I wait, letting this sink in.
He begins to sob again, covering his face with his hands. Finally, after several minutes, he wipes his eyes. "How do they do it?"
"According to the literature I read, it's done with a local anesthetic, and a small incision in the scrotum. The testicles are removed, and silicon replacements are inserted so that you look the same as you did before. Your sex drive is dramatically reduced, but it doesn't sound like you have much of a sex life anyway, except with children. It's a radical approach, and we'll want to validate the studies I read with a local expert." Long pause. "I'm not telling you to do this, Charlie. This has to be your decision. I will willingly hurt you for what you did to my son, but I would never try to force you to do something like this, even though I think it might be your best option."
He has continued to cry softly though this explanation, but at the end, looks up at me. "How do we get it done?" he asks.
"I can call my doctor tomorrow for the name of a surgeon with some better information than what I found on the net. Then you can evaluate your options. I'll call you on Wednesday with details."
He nods sadly, but doesn't move. "I really am sorry about Kai," he says softly, staring at the floor. "I can't always control my... Could we..."
"Could, and will. Given that you didn't come up with an alternative punishment, I'm simply going to give you a really nasty spanking," I say, motioning him onto the punishment table and strapping him down. Forty really harsh strokes of the razor strop later, Charlie is bruised and sobbing inconsolably. Not that I've tried to console him. He's on his own emotionally. I'm still too angry to get much involved with this one. He is not going to be one of my "strays".
I release him, and he dresses quickly and leaves – once I have Kai isolated in another section of the house. I've arranged to call him on Wednesday, but he'll be back here next Monday in any case – for more punishment.
Three weeks later, the deed is done. A local surgeon and psychiatrist both confirm that surgical castration is the most effective method for dealing with recurrent pedophilia, and Charlie elects to have the procedure performed, signing endless paperwork and undergoing a legion of psychological tests before anyone will agree to perform the operation. The surgery itself is a non-issue. It takes about two and a half hours. It was the anesthetic injections that were the most painful part, he tells me later. I give him a month to recover from the surgery before beginning regular weekly spankings as a sort of aversion therapy, and I insist on electrolysis to permanently remove his body hair. I want him to remember this incident even after he stops coming for punishment, and the lack of body hair will, I think, force him to do that. My other demand is more about retribution.
"Why'd you molest Kai?" I ask him. "Do you like boys? I thought you were mostly into girls."
"I am," he replies. "I don't know why. It was more about power than about sex, I guess, and he was so...happy, so vulnerable."
I give him a long – and probably disgusted – look. "Have you ever had a gay relationship?" I ask him.
"No," he shoots back – too quickly.
"So you've never had sex with another man?"
"No. In fact, I find the idea pretty repulsive. No offense."
"None taken," I smile. "I find the idea of sex with a woman pretty repulsive."
It's this conversation that leads to my final demand. "You remember Kenny, the Asian guy that beat you near to death on your first visit."
"He's more Kai's father than either Jason – my husband – or I am, and he needs something to help him put this incident behind him. He's going to fuck you as his retribution."
Charlie looks shocked, and then scared, and then tears up. "Please...please don't make me do that. I'll do anything you say, but please, can't he do something else to me?"
"Nope. That's what we're doing. He's going to fuck you, and Jason and I are going to watch."
He starts to really cry now. "Why?" he whines. "Why do I have to do that?"
"Because I sense it's the thing you'll hate most, the thing you're most afraid of, the thing you'll remember most. And, because I want you to know the fear that Kai and the rest of your victims felt. I want you to understand what it feels like when someone takes you against your will, when you lose control of what happens to your body. I want you to feel the helplessness and humiliation of that first hand."
He looks into my eyes, a pleading look tinged with terror. "Please," he begs.
"This is not optional, Charlie. It's happening. Kenny is going to rape you for the satisfaction of doing it, and for your education. Next week."
One week later, at his regular
time, Charlie is at our door. His eyes are red and teary as he stares down at
the doormat looking sullen. His arms are wrapped around himself in almost an
embrace. When I open the front door, he looks up, and I nod him in, motioning
to the kitchen and the basement door after he's left his shoes in the entryway.
Both Kenny and Jason are sitting at the kitchen table chatting, and when they
see Charlie, they stand, following him down to the basement. I follow them.
I've arrange for Kev and Kai to sleep over at
"Drop your hands to your sides," Kenny orders, and Charlie does, looking down at the floor again. "I want you to look me in the eyes, and keep looking me in the eyes until I tell you otherwise. Not at the floor, not at the back wall. I want you looking at me."
Charlie looks up, crying more freely now, but doesn't take his eyes off Kenny's.
"What you did to Kai, my son, was unforgiveable, and I can promise you I never will. So, the opportunity to hurt you, to give you a taste of your own medicine so you'll understand how your victims must have felt, is more than welcome. And this will hurt, I promise you."
With that, he begins to unbutton Charlie's shirt and ultimately slides it off his body, leaving him naked to the waist. Next he unfastens his belt, and unbuttons and unzips his pants, allowing them to fall to his ankles. "Pick up your left foot," he orders. Kneeling, Kenny slides the pants off, removing the sock at the same time, and repeating the process for the right foot. Standing, he smiles again. Reaching forward, he draws Charlie's face towards him, intending to kiss him; Charlie turns his head away. Kenny, in turn, slaps him hard across the face. "Where are you supposed to be looking?" Kenny asks, angry.
Long pause. "At you," Charlie chokes.
"We're going to kiss," Kenny says. "I don't care whether you want to kiss or not, but if you don't return the kiss, I'm going to make this thing a whole lot more unpleasant than you can know. Got it?"
Charlie nods, still crying.
Kenny reaches forward again, and pulls Charlie's face toward him, kissing him with a vengeance. Charlie's body tenses and his arms flex, but he opens his mouth and participates in the kiss, which continues for maybe twenty seconds. When they break, Charlie is very pale, wiping his lips with his tongue, looking revolted, an expression that draws a laugh from Kenny and a giggle from Jason. "Enjoy that?" Kenny asks.
"No," Charlie responds, flatly.
"Good," Kenny snickers. "Let's do it again." Again he reaches forward and kisses him, another long, and lingering kiss. When they break, Charlie coughs. I'm pretty sure he'd like to spit, but knows better. Kenny giggles, smiling that evil smile, and kneels in front of Charlie, slowly sliding his underwear down his legs. As he does, Charlie moves his hands to cover himself, and Kenny slaps them away. "Where are your hands supposed to be?" he demands.
Charlie pauses. "At my sides." He drops them.
Once the underwear is out of the way, Kenny stands and circles Charlie, much as he did the first night we brought Charlie down here, like a hungry cat ready to pounce. Charlie is flushed. I don't think he's ever felt quite this naked before, and is really embarrassed. But, to his credit, he doesn't move. Finally, having made two loops to inspect the meat, Kenny stops in front of him and kneels, staring at his equipment. Then Kenny takes him in his mouth and blows him energetically for several minutes, eliciting...nothing. Charlie's dick remains flaccid even as his breathing increases and his flush gets darker. Standing up at last, Kenny looks him in the eyes. "Guess you don't like to get blown by another guy, or maybe there's some...other problem. Your breathing was pretty ragged there for a few minutes. It sounded like you were enjoying it."
Charlie looks down, shamefaced, earning another slap from Kenny. Looking back up into Kenny's eyes, his own eyes full of tears again, he says, "I haven't been able to get hard in...a while."
Kenny snaughs. "Not since they cut your balls off, I'll bet?"
"Yeah," Charlie chokes.
"Good," Kenny responds. "It makes it so much nicer knowing that this will be one-sided, that you won't get any pleasure out of it."
Moving back several steps, he begins unbuttoning his own shirt, finally sliding out of it and tossing it to Jason, who catches it and folds it. Then he unfastens his belt and pants and slides out of those, pulling off his socks as the pants come down. The underwear follows. Both Jason and Kenny are stunning, but in different ways. Kenny is taller than Jason, and therefore heavier. Where Jason is slightly more slender, Kenny is really well toned, toned from years of regular workouts in the basement gym. This is not to suggest that he's muscle-bound, but he has a really nice chest, and the vaguest outline of a six-pack. His thighs are muscular, as are his calves, and his ass? Oh, my god... And, then, of course, there's the skin, that bronze softness, that is just so damned erotic. At 31, he is much more attractive to me than when we first met.
Kenny stands for several
seconds, naked, allowing himself to be ogled and admired – by all of us. He is
just so much better looking than Charlie, and Charlie knows it. And, of course,
Kenny has dedicated a good deal of service to N'Touch, the gay Asian club in
After several seconds, during which he stretches like an awakened lion, Kenny moves back to stand in front of Charlie again and, this time presses his naked body against Charlie's. He kisses him again, another long and sensuous kiss which Charlie returns, albeit without enthusiasm. Standing back, Kenny stares at Charlie's dick, which has remained completely flaccid. He snaughs, "That really doesn't work very well, does it? It's not supposed to just lie there. I mean, I've kissed and blown other straight guys, and I usually get at least some reaction. Let me show you what I mean. Jase," he says, turning to Jason, "could you...help me?"
Jason giggles, knowing instinctively what Kenny is asking. Standing, he strips quickly, and then moves to Kenny, who has stepped back from Charlie, still in front of him, but several feet away.
"So, here's what's supposed to happened down there," he says, pulling Jason into a long kiss. When they finally part, Kenny pushes Jason back so that Jason's full erection is in plain view. It's pointing up toward the ceiling at a fairly steep angle, at about the same angle as Kenny's. "Yours doesn't work very well anymore, does it?" he asks Charlie, giggling.
Charlie is sobbing now. "No!" He screams. "It doesn't fucking work."
"Good!" Kenny gloats. "It's probably safer that way. So let's get on with the fucking."
I've been curious since I first broached the subject of fucking Charlie to Kenny about how he'll choose to do it. Will he lay him out on his belly and climb on top, or will he want to watch his face while he does it, laying him on his back with his legs up? Or, will he bend him over the table with his feet on the floor, giving him maximum access? The ground rules I laid out for Charlie are that Kenny can position him in any way he chooses, and fuck him until he shoots. Condom use is mandatory because, god knows, I have no idea where Charlie has been.
Kenny's choice is that Charlie will be on his back, and those are the instructions he gives him as he prepares to mount him, rolling a condom onto his now fully-erect dick. He climbs up onto the table between Charlie's legs. Charlie is now sobbing, anticipating what's coming. "Please...umm...be gentle," he sobs.
Kenny laughs. "Yeah, right! This is not designed to be pleasant for you. It's designed to be pleasant for me. And, I have to tell you that what's pleasant for me will be seeing you in pain. `Gentle' will not be a priority, here." He laughs again, moving Charlie's legs up so that they rest on his shoulders, and lining his dick up with Charlie's asshole. What he does not do, I notice, is any kind of manual stretching of Charlie's sphincter muscles, nor does he add lube to the condom or to Charlie's hole. Kenny is wearing a Trojan-Enz, a lubed condom with a bubble at the tip to collect the spunk. But, there's very little lube on a so-called lubed condom. That's because condoms are made mostly for heterosexual couples, not for gay ones, and women mostly make their own lube. If you can find a condom intended for gay couples at all, it's probably at a Pride parade, and you only get one. You sure as hell don't find them at Safeway, the A&P, or other grocery chains. The other thing that's probably worth mentioning is that Kenny has extraordinary control. He can keep from cumming longer than anyone I know, and usually does when he fucks me to extend his pleasure – and mine. Thirty minutes is not at all unusual for him, and I've seen him last for up to forty-five minutes, sometimes longer, without ever pausing. And that's without a condom deadening the sensation. This is going to be long, slow, and probably quite painful.
Leaning over Charlie, Kenny seals his lips to Charlie's in a kiss, and after maybe five seconds, drives his dick into him in one long, quick, unrelenting thrust. Charlie screams, and continues to scream for several minutes, screams that are muffled – inhaled – by Kenny's own mouth. When the screaming finally ends, Kenny breaks the kiss, but continues to pump in and out of a sobbing Charlie, who is almost incoherent with pain. Finally, after maybe ten minutes of fucking him in this position, Kenny pulls out of him, and orders him to turn over on his knees with his face flat on the table. He retrieves a stool that raised his dick to a position level with Charlie's asshole, now hovering obscenely over the edge of the table. Climbing onto that stool, Kenny rams his dick back into Charlie, deeper than before because of the new position. Charlie starts to scream again, and continues to scream for several minutes. Finally, after about 15 minutes of this position, Kenny withdraws again, and has Charlie lay on his side with one leg off the table nearly touching the ground, and one leg in the air that Kenny holds in place. Positioning himself with Charlie's lower leg between his own, Kenny enters him again, still standing on the stool, ramming into him with a vengeance, and after about 15 more minutes, finally cums.
Pulling out of him after regaining control, Kenny giggles. "That was nice. We'll have to do that again sometime." Then he leaves the basement to clean himself up, while Charlie, discarded, doesn't move for maybe 15 minutes, sobbing. Finally, he pulls himself together and lifts himself slowly off the table, flushed and teary when he notices that Jason and I are still there, watching him intently. He dresses slowly, and when he's fully clothed, he comes to stand before me, staring at the floor.
"Am I done for the day?" he asks, never looking at me. He looks very depressed, very sad.
"We're done...until next week. See you next Monday, Charlie, same time, same place."
He nods and makes his way upstairs and out the door, his eyes still red and swollen.
We've mostly accomplished with Charlie what I set out to do: to punish and dissuade. He continues to come for "maintenance" spankings once a week for the first three months, and thereafter once a month for the next six months. During his first session after Kenny raped him, I asked him how it made him feel, and he started to cry. "I never felt worse about myself in my life. I mean, it hurt a lot, what he did to me, but that was the point, and the pain wasn't the worst part. I felt...dirty, and ashamed, and scared and so depressed. I took three days off work and just stayed in bed. I couldn't face the world. And then I realized that that...umm...was how I was supposed to feel. I'd been raped. And then I got it, and felt even worse, because I'd probably made several little girls feel that way. Does Kenny really hate me?"
"Pretty much. I don't' think that's going to change, so I wouldn't base my sense of self-worth on Kenny's opinion of you. But I'm glad you understand. Now get on with your life."
And get on with it he does. After five months he tells me that he's been dating a woman he met at work and thinks he's falling in love.
"That's great, Charlie, but before you make love to her, you need to tell her about your past."
"I've...umm...told her a little already. I've told her that I can probably never make love to her because I...umm...can't...get it up. I have no desire for sex. I told her that it was because of an operation. That seemed to bring us closer. I told her I wanted companionship, and she said she wants the same. I'm not sure where this will go, but I'm hoping it'll lead somewhere."
"Sounds like it already has. At some point you're going to have to tell her the rest, you know?"
"I know, but I want to give it some time...give us some time."
Eight months after Kenny raped him, Charlie tells me that he's told his woman-friend, Monica, the rest of the story in a tearful confession. While she was surprised, she gave him credit for having made a very difficult and positive decision toward rehabilitation. She was proud of him. And, she told him that she loves him. One month later, he calls and asks to bring her along when he comes, and he does. She's very nice, and very strong, almost domineering, which may be exactly what Charlie needs. We chat for a couple of hours, at the end of which Charlie and I agree to discontinue his regular sessions. He doesn't need me anymore to keep him on the straight and narrow, I think, because he and Monica are planning to get married. I have faith that she'll be watching for signs of misbehavior. He'd like us to remain friends, though, which is nice, and would like Jason, Kenny and me to come to their wedding as soon as they've arranged for it. I nod and smile. How sweet! I'm not sure I'll ever get Kenny to go, but Jason and I are better at forgiveness, especially when we see signs of progress.
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