by
Part 11: New Year - II
It was getting late. The New Years Eve Bacchanal had been in progress for hours now. As the time approached the last hour or so before midnight, Guus started to round up the lucky guests for the eagerly anticipated and much hyped climax to the evening - the grand finale. This was to take place in the club itself, for reasons which soon became apparent. Not everybody was interested of course. Some stayed in the spa, preferring to carry on simply fucking away on the beanbags and pillows with the few boys that were still coherent and sober. Actually, they didn't even need to be sober. There were clients who would have fucked the boys regardless. So long as they could bury their rampant dicks into a hot little shota boy cunt, the quality of the conversation was irrelevant.
I was fresh out of the Jacuzzi for the second or third time that evening, because a lot of the guests seemed to think that fucking a boy in a pool of hot bubbling water was somehow more erotic. I suppose in a perverse way it was, but it does begin to lose its appeal after the first couple of times. Anyhow, I climbed out having just had another guy fuck my little ass. He didn't cum in me this time. I think he was saving his load for the finale. I had to admit, I admired the discipline of guys who could do that: fuck a little boy's butt without blowing their load into him. I guess they just liked the act of boyfucking, and could simply fuck their way around the room, sampling every boy in sight, and working up to a big cum at the end, kinda like a long-drawn-out fuck that took the whole evening to culminate. You had to hand it to them - their self control was amazing.
I was a little hazy from the numerous joints that were being passed around, and my body was starting to protest from all the mauling and manhandling. My balls hurt because some guy had decided to try and suck my cock and balls at the same time - that is, take all my genitals into his mouth at once. It felt damn good when I had that done to me, almost like my whole crotch was being swallowed up, and it was an incredible feeling to have your cock and balls encased in a warm, wet mouth, something which, alas, was only possible with a kiddie-sized cock like mine. I also had a hickey on my butt where some guy had tried to kiss my butt cheek and had ended up sucking on it so hard it was more like he was trying to take a bite out of it. Little Cloud was slightly sore too. My little cock had been roughly sucked and jerked by many eager punters and I was starting to feel it. Oh, little Cloud was still as hard as a nail, no problem there. My erection was still more or less intact and still good to go. I had guaranteed my stiffie with a 50mg dose of Viagra which, even if I didn't really need it, would mean I had reserved at least one last hard cum and still had enough little boy spunk in my balls for the grand finale. Guus still hadn't let on what that was going to be. I wrapped myself in an oversized bath towel and took a few moments to dry off and recharge. I ruffled my hair into a big halo of spikes and left it still a little damp. Some tricks liked it that way, especially if you were giving head. Somehow a head of damp hair brushing against their crotch as you sucked them was infinitely more erotic. I wore the towel around my shoulders so that it hung off me like a long cape and went downstairs to the Club.
On the floor of the club, Guus ushered everybody in, still clutching their drinks and their joints or whatever other intoxicating substance they were into, and they arranged themselves around the edge of the little stage. Now remember, the stage of the Saxon Club was sunk into the floor, like a little shallow arena, so the spectators were able to sit around the edges to observe the proceedings. They sat with their legs dangling down the sides, enclosing the stage on all four sides, save for a small gap that Guus had left for the performers to get in and out. The men assembled, still naked, and many still erect from the proliferation of Viagra and other sex enhancing drugs that pervaded the proceedings.
On the stage, someone had decided it was a good idea to start playing 50s style rock 'n' roll music, and there were multicolored disco lights and strobes flashing away from the overhead gantry, so that it was instantly transformed into a dance floor. A group of young men had no hesitation in carrying their boys naked onto the middle of the floor - boys always got carried by their men during these events - a shota boy ostensibly became a commodity in these circumstances and, as I have said before, the men could do pretty much as they liked. As a shota boy, nobody asked you to dance - you were simply compelled to do as you were bidden. The naked boys and men all launched into a tremendously fast jive, and the men seemed quite proficient in lifting their boys, and throwing them this way and that, so that the smaller, lighter, more nimble figures of the boys were being literally wrapped around their older partners. Some of that dancing was extremely erotic, especially when the boys were hanging off the men's shoulders upside down, or sliding through their legs, or when they were being spun around and flipped over, or tossed into the air with a somersault, almost like they were the men's own little boy dolls - walking, talking living dolls, as the lyrics claimed. On the edges of the dance floor, there were boys and men all thrown together in little clusters, cuddling and kissing, chatting and passing joints back and forth. Some of the men held their boys on their lap and were casually playing with their limp little todgers, fingering their floppy little dicks and just enjoying the feel of having a young, hairless boy to hold, savoring their warmth and smoothness and relishing their nubile proximity, with all the sexual promise that those boys possessed. It was a beautiful sight. Every now and then a man would get up and lead his boy onto the dance floor and launch into some energetic shimmy. Sometimes it was the boys that led the men onto the dance floor. It was so erotic, mainly because I could see no other way for it to culminate than those boys being rewarded with a thoroughly hard rooting from their adult partners. It was a beautiful precursor to what could only appropriately conclude in a feverishly hard fuck. After all, what was dancing other than simply artistic foreplay?
While I was drying off, I took a little tour to observe what was going down in the other parts of the Club. The lights were still low, and the music was still loud, and the place was getting incredibly hot and smoky. It didn't take long for the cavernous room to fill with a thin veil of smoke and for the general din to rise to an unbearable level. I went to explore what was happening in the back rooms, where the usually more illicit activities were conducted, and something different was happening as I passed each room. I went along the open doorways, peeping into each room, and I was amazed at the sheer variety of peccadilloes that were being perpetrated. As I poked my head into one of the rooms, I was brushed aside by two of Guus's goons - the heavies who watched over the activities and made sure no one got out of hand. They were escorting somebody out and had literally picked him up, one either side of him - so that his feet were treading thin air, rather like in the cartoons. The waxen-faced goons didn't take any crap - if any of the punters stepped out of line they were thrown out. This guy was pleading his innocence even as they frog-marched him away, 'I wasn't gonna shit on his face, honest!' I had to laugh. There was always some wise-guy who couldn't restrain himself; always some fuckwit who went too far.
Next door, in another smoke-filled room, several naked men were sitting around in various poses on the futons with their boys, noisily playing dice. They were so focused on the game that they didn't even notice me. They had cut themselves off in their own little corner and were busily smoking big fat joints and placing wagers on the dice rolls. The boys were sitting in their laps or were curled up next to them, watching, fawning and offering little tokens of encouragement. Next to them, in the opposite corner, another group were playing poker. The men were all variously interposed with their boys, some sharing joints, others breaking off to give their boy a kiss and an appreciative stroke. It was a heartwarming scene because it was clear that the joints had made everybody mellow and relaxed and probably quite horny, and there was genuine affection between the men and their boys. What I couldn't work out was where they stashed their dough. Everyone was naked, so there was no convenient place to carry dosh. Perhaps it was best not to speculate on that, I decided.
In the next room, there were two horny men leaning over a naked boy who was lying on the table with his stiffie pointing straight up in the air. One of the men was gently stroking the boy's stiff little rod between his fingers, moving the elastic skin up and down over his rounded little cockhead. Meanwhile, the other was stooped over him, snorting lines of cocaine off his body. It was a sight that I particularly relished, especially as I recognized the boy. Well, I recognized his little dick first, in the same way as I could distinguish every little todger I had wrapped my lips around. It was Cosmo. Cosmo was very pretty. He was about 10 years old, slim and slight in build, and sported the battle scars of his boyishness - he had faded scabs on his legs where he had grazed his knees, and little purple bruises on his shins and elbows. He even had a little puffy cut on his lip. Cosmo was a scrapper - always getting into fights with the other boys because he was lippy and ornery and was given to smartmouthing and sarcasm. He was a cheeky scamp and always looked a bit seedy and streetworn. But he was nevertheless lovable, in an Artful Dodger kind of way. But then some men liked that. They found his rough and ready seediness very arousing. In my experience, the sheer range of men's tastes in boys was infinite. There was simply no end to the type of things they liked to see in their fuckboys. And they weren't always slim and lithe. Even the slightly chubby boys were appealing in their own way. Anyhow, the sight of little Cosmo submitting his pretty body to the men's depraved foibles was very arousing. It was true decadence, I thought, that they could indulge their every whim in this way. Four lines of white powder were arranged on Cosmo's flat tummy, and he was quiescently lying there giggling, almost ticklish, but happy to allow the man to snort the stuff off his skin through a rolled up greenback. It struck me what a stark paradox this was: this illicit powder arranged there so symmetrically on that flawless young skin that was as tight as a drum; this iniquitous substance corrupting the boy's youthful innocence. There was a strange kind of abstract beauty to it.
Finally, I shed my ample bath towel and was once again naked and dry. I made my way back to the main room, contemplating everything that I had seen, and it struck me that the old adage about sex and drugs and rock 'n' roll was particularly relevant here. I giggled to myself because I never anticipated I would encounter all three simultaneously.
Back in the main part of the club, Guus was busy assembling the rest of the boys over by the bar. By this time he had removed his cockring and his dick was soft, but I knew that was just a routine break for recuperation. Guus had plenty more fuck mojo, and I knew he was gonna bust a couple more fuckwads before the evening was out. For now, he was super efficient in briefing us on what we had to do. I noticed that he had only picked out the select few hardcore shota boys for this, so I knew it was gonna be something really special. Knowing Guus, it was probably something exceptionally pervy and depraved, but hey, it WAS New Year. I wasn't altogether surprised that I was amongst this select group, as were Chip and Dax, along with Kai and Sabu. Guus had certainly picked a good variety of boys. Kai was Finnish and had creamy white skin, very light brown hair - not quite blonde - with a cute smattering of freckles across his nose, and eyes that were the palest blue. Sabu, on the other hand, was Indian in origin, very slim and diminutive, a veritable Mowgli of a boy, with a thick head of black moptop hair and deliciously brown skin that was the color of caramel. They were both very beautiful. Along with Chip, Dax and myself, we were the best that the Saxon Club had to offer.
When the dancing had finished, the stage cleared and a more evenly-paced music was playing discreetly in the background. The lights were lowered, adding to the general sense of expectation. There were spotlights trained on the centre of the stage, where Guus had strategically placed futons and pillows. The five of us marched into the center and sat cross-legged on the futons. It was almost as though we were about to engage in a karate lesson. The sight of us sitting there, looking beleaguered in the center of the little stage, with the spotlights on us, ratcheted up the general sense of spectacle. There was a kind of hushed anticipation amongst the guests, like a little buzz of excitement that hung in the air.
Guus came on and stood there with us sitting at his feet, like he was some kind of revered pedagogue. He announced that as the midnight hour approached, some of his best boys would entertain his guests with some amazing feats. There was a little smattering of applause from the audience that surrounded the stage, obviously welcoming the start of the finale. Then Guus asked Dax to sit in the center of the futons and the rest of us all to sit in a circle around him. Dax, with his long, lanky, teal colored hair, and his incredibly long legs, shifted over and sat in the middle of the floor looking quite forlorn and abandoned. He always looked white and pasty, slightly underfed and still had those dark rings around his eyes. He was such a slight, slim, lean boy, only a little younger than me, but so much smaller in stature. There were very faint whip marks across his back and scarring on his skinny but otherwise flawless little butt, and small blotches on his arms and legs, the remnants of some not too recent bruises. Some men found that incredibly arousing. As I said before, Dax was known for his propensity for physical punishment, and had a loyal following of respectful clients for that very reason. We arranged ourselves around him. Then Guus went over to the edge of the stage and I could see Ten, still naked, with that sexy little dickie bow around his neck, and he handed Guus a little black device. It looked like some kind of battery operated remote control unit, with a couple of switches and dials. It had two thin cables trailing out of it, one attached to a slim steel probe, the other attached to a little steel ring. A little murmur went up amongst the assembled onlookers.
Guus came over with the little black box in his hands. Then he handed the attachments down to Dax, feeding out the cables, and nodded assuredly to him. Dax, sitting there looking up at Guus, nodded back affirmatively. Now the center of attention, he played with his thick hairless dick quite roughly. He pumped it quite hard in his fist and within seconds it was fully erect. He tugged at it quite insistently, until it was safely engorged and anchored to the deck at full mast. The pretty cut head looked infinitely suckable. He even stopped and tilted his head back, and he played up to the audience, admiring his own hairless todger for a bit and allowing us all to have a nice view of his impressive appendage. Dax's rather large boydick was pulsing tangibly in his crotch. His boycock, now hardened with arousal, looked so disproportionate on him - Dax had such an inordinately large dick for such a small boy.
Guus handed Dax a tube of lube, which he used to coat the little probe, and he even put some on the steel ring. Then he leaned back, propping himself up on one arm, and spread his legs open. With the other hand he put the little steel ring over the tip of his stiff boycock, carefully maneuvering it so it was around the most sensitive part - just below the rim of the reddish little head of his dick. With that in place, he then began to insert the steel probe into his boyhole. There were a few muted gasps from the audience and a murmur of excitement went up. They loved pervy stuff like that - boys having painful and demeaning things done to them, except that in this case Dax was quite willingly doing it to himself. Dax stuck the probe way up into his little cunt with no hesitation whatsoever. He sat on the floor with his legs out in front of him, and studiously fed the entire length into his little snatch. I couldn't believe how his tiny body could accommodate that fearsome looking object so easily. He grimaced all the way through, but he persevered, pushing that probe slowly until it was completely sunk into his willing flesh. His experienced little boyhole effortlessly swallowed the whole thing. Dax threw his head back and screwed his eyelids tightly shut. When the probe was fully inserted into his little cunt, he looked at the little wires trailing out. He was now attached to the machine via those little wires. The rest of us all looked around at each other, impressed and somewhat puzzled at the same time.
Guus explained to the assembled audience that the machine was called a TENS unit, and it was used to induce orgasm using electrical impulses via the nerves. I could see the expectant faces of the audience looking ever more attentive at this particular piece of information, their ears pricking up with morbid curiosity. Like an athlete about to perform for the judges, Dax stopped to reflect for a moment, as though mustering his reserves and preparing for the trials and endeavors he was about to undergo. Then he looked up purposefully at Guus and nodded. Guus held the little machine in his two hands and flipped a switch. The TENS unit started humming softly. The initial flow of current was turned on, and Dax waited. It wasn't until the dial was turned a little way up that Dax reacted. He jumped as though in shock, and a look of delighted surprise spread across his pretty face. He smiled. He liked it.
'Can you feel it?' Guus asked him.
Dax nodded, still grinning to himself, and appreciating the sensation that was being transmitted into his sweet little cunt.
'It tickles,' he announced, looking around at his enthralled audience.
Dax was still smiling. The dial on the TENS unit was turned up a little. The hum of the machine increased and Dax's smile became broader.
'Oh yes, I can really feel that now,' he said, his gray eyes widening.
The TENS unit dial was turned up further. Dax stopped smiling. In fact he looked shocked for a moment, trying to assimilate a new level of sensation. He didn't look horrified, but he did look as though he was becoming more uncomfortable. He started to concentrate more on the impulses being infused into him, and gradually he assimilated the new level. He was doing well.
When the TENS unit dial was turned up further, Dax let out a little gasp and his big dick waggled violently in his crotch, as though galvanized by the sensations being induced into his hairless little snatch. He could feel the impulses even stronger now, and it looked rather like his dickie appreciated the gesture, as though the stimulation being directed into Dax's little cunt was a source of energy for his oversized erection. Dax jacked his stiff dick in his fist, mechanically pumping along its ample length with his long, thin fingers curled around it, but for the most part he left it alone, and it waggled about in his crotch, ever stiffened by the electrical impulses, and all the more psychologically roused by it all.
It wasn't until the dial was turned up once more that Dax began to look uncomfortable. The machine was now humming quite perceptibly, and Dax jumped, starting to breathe faster with little shallow breaths. He was bearing the sensations very well, and I wondered if he was in rapture or distress. It was difficult to tell. But he made no effort to stop the proceedings. No doubt he had a safeword, but if he did, he didn't use it. If anything, he acquiesced to whatever was being done to him.
When the dial was turned all the way, the machine buzzed manically, and Dax was breathing fast as though in an effort to bear the sensations being discharged into his lithe body. He thrashed his head about a bit, and he started moaning. The audience let up a murmur - almost a gasp of awe - and he made sure to lean back on his arms, his legs still spread out in front of him. The wires were still trailing from behind his hairless balls, and he looked down at his engorged cock with that painful looking metal ring clamped around it. His beautiful dick was straining upwards, pointing straight up, and it was now waggling up and down, seemingly trying to break free of his crotch. Eventually Dax closed his eyes, threw his head back and lifted his skinny butt up off the floor. It was as if he went into some kind convulsion. It all happened in slow motion. His thick dick pulsed incredibly in his crotch, all on its own, violently jerking up against his abdomen, so that it was pointing at his face. Dax let out a quick shriek of profound ecstasy. He was cumming. His high-pitched scream reverberated into the stuffy atmosphere of the Club and in our ears. A moment later, a big squirt of spunk burst forth, like a dam breaking, followed by a few less powerful little jets, and it ran down his tummy and onto his balls. His spunk was always so abundant. So thick and creamy. Fuck, it was so sexy. The appreciative audience gave him rapturous applause, with whistles, shouts and catcalls and an enthusiastic stamping of feet. They loved it. When his butt was back down on the floor, Guus switched the machine off. The buzzing stopped and Dax gasped as though struggling for air. He was hyperventilating, the ordeal for now over. Then he removed the slick little probe from his snatch and pulled off the spunk-stained ring from around his softening cock, tossing the steel attachments aside. But he was okay. In fact he seemed pleased with his orgasm. Fuck, how did such a slight boy endure such treatment? We were all amazed.
When Dax had left the stage to go and clean up, the audience descended into loud murmuring and chattering, expressing their incredulity to their neighbors. I could see some of the boys in the audience having their todgers pulled extra hard and a few were squirming about with some man's head firmly buried in their crotch, enduring the rough stiffie-sucking that nearly always resulted from watching such extreme antics. It made the men so much more callous and cruel with the boys, and seemed to encourage rough and painful treatment. And the proceedings were only just beginning.
Guus moved the performance on swiftly. Next it was Chip's turn. Chip had perfected his own specialty. I don't know whose idea it was, but Guus magically produced a little wooden presentation box which he opened, flipping over the lid. Inside was a molded insert with a set of thin steel implements of varying sizes. They looked like very long, thin pencils. Except it was clear that they weren't pencils. They were probes of some kind. They were tapered at one end and had a little rounded bobble at the other. Guus offered the box to Chip. Chip stood up on the futon, his little dick already hardening and elevating up by degrees as though it was hydraulically operated. Chip looked over the probes in the box. His little hand hovered over the items before him, almost like he was selecting from a box of chocolates. He took one of the thin steel probes. Again Guus produced a tube of lube. Chip diligently lubed up the little probe with his fingertips, making sure to smother it completely with the clear gel. He then settled himself on the futon, lying down flat so that everybody could see his cut little todger pointing up proudly. Then he took his stiff dickie in one hand and with the other started threading the thin probe, rounded end first, into the hole in his dickie. The audience gasped and cheered, throwing in catcalls of encouragement. Some of the younger boys on the sidelines looked away squeamishly, others looked on incredulously. Like a brave little Eagle Scout, Chip expertly and unswervingly inserted that probe all the way into his erect little dick with a minimum of formality, feeding it slowly and evenly down his piss-slit so that it must have at least reached the base of his dick. When he had finished, the top was sticking out of the end of his little cock, almost as though his dick was impaled. He was even able to waggle it about, with the exposed end of the probe waving up and down erratically. The audience cheered, impressed by his antics. Chip laid there for a while, stretched out on the futon, with his hands behind his head, almost as though he was sunbathing, and he tilted his head forward slightly, admiring his impaled dick with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.
Now, I don't know about you, but having anything up my urethra is ultra painful. I mean, I love the thought of shoving things up my dick, but the reality is that the sensitivity is just unbearable. It was obviously tissue that was never designed to accommodate solid objects - and it was all the more repellent to the sensitive lining of my tube since it had only ever carried liquids before. It stung like nothing you had ever felt before. Even just introducing something into the head of your dick was painful - I had felt the sensitivity whenever a trick licked the rim of the little hole, just managing to graze the very top of the tube, just inside the little piss-slit, and that was unbearably sensitive - so how Chip managed to take the full length of that steel probe, I'll never know. But I do know one thing - he must have been experimenting. This was clearly not the first time he had stuck something into his tube. Yup - you had to hand it to him - Chip was obviously well versed in the art of shoving things up his dick. Oh yeah, no doubt about it, the dirty little tyke was way ahead of me on that score.
Chip jumped up to a standing position, flipping himself upright with a quick flip of his little body, making the tight little curl on his forehead bounce briefly. His little stiffie was proudly sticking out. Then he reached down and slowly removed the metal probe, withdrawing it in one, smooth action. A slick string of lube came out with it and he held the little probe aloft. The appreciative audience applauded. Chip soaked up the admiration, clearly reveling in the limelight.
As the applause for Chip gradually petered out, Guus announced that I was up next. That drew a renewed and appreciative round of applause. That surprised me a little, because I didn't realize I was so popular. Guus explained that I was going to try a technique that was slightly risky and possibly painful and that this little demonstration required a boy who could spunk. Kai and Sabu didn't spunk up yet and as Dax had already shot his bolt, that only left me. My heart jumped because I didn't really enjoy stuff like that. I could tolerate a little pain, and I even found mild bondage somewhat arousing, but anything too painful was stiffie-sapping. And yet, my little todger was hardening at the thought of it. Little Cloud was becoming ever more tumescent, strangely aroused by the idea, the pervy little fucker.
Without further explanation, Guus brought out a strange looking device which I can only describe as a little clamp. It was like one half of a pair of handcuffs - a rigid ring with a rotating hinged section which clamped into the other half. It was exactly like a miniature handcuff, except this was used for clamping the base of your cock. It was similar in principle to a cockring, but it wasn't for enhancing an erection. This was specifically designed for something Guus called retrograde ejaculation. Essentially, it clamped your urethra closed, blocking the sperm from coming out. The orgasm would basically be dry. Guus was quite knowledgeable about stuff like that, and the technique was not entirely new to me. Various tricks had tried it on me in the past, usually by pressing a finger hard into my perineum, just behind my balls, to block off the tube and stop the spunk from coming out. That forced the spunk back into the bladder. But there were simpler methods too. In fact it was Guus who taught me to pinch the head of my dick when I was cumming, closing off the hole so that the spunk couldn't come out. It meant that the spunk was forced back into the urethra, which made the prostate work harder - thus prolonging the orgasm. It worked too. Retrograde ejaculation always made my cums stronger and longer. But I didn't do it too much because my balls always hurt after doing that, and squeezing the tip of my cock just on the point of ejaculation was not always conducive, nor desirable. Besides, part of the pleasure of jacking my little dick was the thrill of watching my kiddiecum squirt out.
I stood up, with Chip and Kai and Sabu sitting around me on the futons. Their pretty faces were focused on my dickie, all three pairs of eyes wide with fascination. Guus handed me the little metal clamp. There was a strip of felt underlining which went on first, to prevent damage to the skin, and then I attached the clamp over it. I must admit, the snugness and weight of the clamp, pinching the base of my little dick, felt very pleasurable. I could feel the tightness on the underside of my dick, where my tube was closed off and it was the same kind of sensation as when my dick was buried balls-deep in some other boy's hairless little cunt. It made my dick crave stimulation. It really did make me want to fuck it into something.
Luckily, Chip obliged. He didn't wait to be asked - Chip was always hungry for cock, so he got down on his knees and leaned in, swallowing the entire length of my swollen dick right into the back of his throat. He impaled his sweet little head on my rod and the feel of his hot, wet little mouth encasing my rampant dick was heavenly. His longish, light brown mop of hair brushed right up against my balls, and his little spectacles pressed coldly into my tummy. The audience certainly appreciated it. They emitted a rousing cheer of encouragement. Clearly Chip's reputation was as solid as mine. The two of us together only doubled the spectacle. Of course they liked it - this was after all nothing less than live porn.
I knew I wouldn't last long with my cock in Chip's mouth. Chip was an expert cocksucker. He could give head like no other boy I knew, sucking and licking, twisting his head this way and that, even putting his warm little paws on my butt to pull my dick right into the back of his magical little orifice. His little teeth chomped down on my shaft, heightening the sensation, as he sucked good and hard on the sensitive head making me melt with pleasure. Oh fuck, how I wanted to cum in him. I wanted to thrust real hard into his pretty face; I wanted to blow my wad right inside that hot, wet little cavern; I wanted fill his head with spunk.
Gradually, Chip's efforts on my cock began to bear fruit. My dick was inordinately hardened by his antics, licked and sucked and dripping wet with his spit, and becoming ever more sensitive to his ministrations. It felt like he had inflated it to bursting point, making the clamp feel tighter, so that the base of my dickie was pinched painfully, making my erection unbearably hard. I couldn't help thrusting hard into Chip's mouth, so that the spongy head of my dick was actually digging into the back of his throat. But Chip took it. Like a true fuckboy, he never complained or pulled away. He seemed to have an innate understanding of how a bit of rough treatment was inevitable. He knew the exquisite pleasure he afforded me. He was compliant and cooperative and I knew he relished what he was doing. Chip was specialized and accomplished. He was not only beautiful, horny and precocious, but his technique was unparalleled. There was no doubt. As a fuckboy, Chip was sensational.
Chip ushered my cock to the brink, quickly and expertly bringing me to the point of orgasm, deftly administering the paradise stroke. Then he abandoned it, leaving my little cock pulsing redundantly in mid air. My orgasm was already under way, and Chip leaned back, still on his knees, and watched with a delighted grin. As I cummed, I was overtaken by a powerful sensation which made my whole crotch clench in profound ecstasy. I nearly screamed, both from the pain and from the incredible intensity of my orgasm. My little cock was throbbing madly, trying vainly to expel my little kiddie load, what there was of it. I could feel the pulses deep behind my balls, the muscles contracting tightly, trying to squeeze out my kidspunk. My tubes were constricted with spunk, my cock and balls were filling with fluid, and this was accompanied by a strong desire to relieve the pressure. It was wonderful and frustrating at the same time. Then came the pain. For a few seconds I was doubled up in sweet agony, and I could hear the audience gasping in morbid delight.
When my orgasm subsided, and my little cock stopped pulsing, even with the heavy clamp around it, I sat down on the futons. When the pleasure of my cum had waned, the pain became overriding. I needed to relieve the pressure real bad. That clamp around my dick was now painful and uncomfortable. It was Chip who had the dubious pleasure of removing the clamp. He was my savior. He scooted over on his knees. Luckily the clamp had a quick release mechanism. Chip pressed a little clip and the clamp magically fell off. The build up of spunk in my crotch suddenly burst out of the tip of my dick, like a big splat of almost clear fluid, making it feel like my whole cock had burst open. It was painful and pleasurable at the same time. The feeling of release was incredible. It really did feel as though my dick had exploded and the pronounced tingling in my balls felt like someone had wrung my balls out. I looked at the little puddle of kiddiecum on the futon between my legs and was amazed by the amount I had spunked. But I was shocked to see that the cloudy liquid also had little ripples of red in it, like tiny threads of blood. Guus threw down a towel to wipe it up, probably hoping that none of the other boys had seen it. But Chip had. I saw the worried look in his steel-gray eyes. He didn't say anything, though we both knew the audience would have no idea what had happened. They weren't close enough to have seen it.
Guus helped me up. I got up tentatively, my crotch still hurting savagely, and the audience applauded. Guus escorted me away from the stage, with an arm around me, his substantial frame almost holding me upright as he led me away. Beneath the cheers and catcalls he asked me if I was okay. I told him it was hurting. Guus, who knew a lot about ejaculation, explained that sometimes it did hurt like that if you had a really hard cum. He said your balls were likely to hurt for a while if you were emptying your reserves, and if you continued to have more cums after they started hurting like that, you could cause yourself a permanent injury. He ordered me to take a break, and he told me that I didn't have to resume if I didn't want to. I must admit, the sight of my clear spunk rippled with red like that was a little scary. Guus said it was nothing to worry about. It was just from pressure on the blood vessels. He said if you ever see blood in your spunk, you know it's definitely time to stop. I made a note to remember that.
I sat on the sidelines with Guus, just on the edge of the stage, and Ten very tenderly sidled up to sit next to me, with a comforting arm around me. He looked genuinely sympathetic, and handed me a glass of Black Death. I turned and managed to muster a smile of gratitude, gratefully accepting the drink with both hands. I swallowed it greedily, feeling the need for something to stun the pain. My cock and balls were pulsating with a dull, reverberating ache, a sure sign that my body was starting to protest at the demands being made upon it.
Raising the tone once again, Guus introduced Kai and Sabu, who put on an excellent little show. It was nothing too heavy this time. Kai and Sabu were both little clowns who liked a bit of slapstick and practical jokery. Their little performance involved butt and nipple play. They seemed to enjoy sticking things in each other's butts, starting with their fingers, then thin little dildos, and eventually butt plugs.
As I watched Kai and Sabu enthusiastically doing stuff to each other, I enjoyed Ten's proximity. With his arm still reassuringly around my shoulders, he gently slipped a lighted joint between my lips, and held it there for me to inhale. I leaned into him, taking a deep drag of the joint, and rested my head on him. The swirling fug of smoke soon enveloped me in a warm, mellow haze, and my head swam with a momentary high of dizziness. Ten was still naked, and I could feel his warm, strong shoulder comfortingly against my cheek.
I was a little detached as I watched the two little clowns on the stage. I was aware that what they were doing was vaguely funny, as well as highly erotic, and I could hear the audience variously gasping and murmuring every time they did something way out. They attached little nipple clamps to each other. They also licked each other out as they cavorted around on the futons, burying their little faces right into the other's butt, rimming each other real good and tonguing their boyholes slick and clean. They rolled around, their little stiffies jutting out, kissing and administering cute little nips. They were just like two little puppies playfighting. What I liked in particular was the combination of the two boys - Sabu's dark, caramel-colored skin contrasting nicely against Kai's lighter creaminess. There was something very beautiful about that.
After they had rolled around and wrestled each other, Kai and Sabu got down to their specialty. Their particular party piece was watersports. That is, they liked pissing games. What amazed me was how much they peed. First they peed on themselves, lying on the futons with their stiffies pointing towards their faces, and they let go a wonderfully coordinated little arc of boy pee all over their own little bodies. It was so perfectly synchronized, that little performance would have been worthy of Olympic gold. Then, in perfect coordination, they stopped and got up on their knees, facing each other. They then peed all over each other, directing their little jets of boy pee all over their chests and tummies, the warm liquid dripping off their crotches, and pooling between their knees, in little puddles which had a delicate golden tinge, like jasmine tea. They both had these manic grins, clearly pleased with their antics. There was a perverse artistry to their performance, and I think they knew it. They were able to turn their waterworks on and off at will, it seemed, stopping to pee on each other in various poses. It was as though they had endless reserves in their bladders - and again it wouldn't have surprised me if they had been conditioned to do this - pissboys were known for training their bladders to hold vast quantities of pee. It was almost never ending.
The climax of their routine was a little more rough stuff. The peeing now finished with, both of them drenched in little yellow droplets, they reciprocally resumed shoving things up their butts. Kai shoved a rather long and fearsome looking speculum into Sabu's little butt, which he took with consummate ease and without protest. The audience applauded when the monstrous implement bottomed out, firmly embedded between Sabu's brown butt cheeks, with the end of the big steel implement still sticking out between his legs. Sabu then rose up and stuffed a string of anal beads into Kai's butt. Kai seemed to love it, purring away with pleasure as his little body was invaded by those painful looking beads. Then they both paraded around the stage doing a silly little erotic dance, thrusting out their stiffies and pulling funny faces at the audience. Sabu jumped on Kai, and they both fell on the futons giggling. Sabu held Kai there, pinning him down, and pushed the anal beads harder into his butt. Kai loved it. He taunted Sabu, begging him to rip the beads out quickly. Sabu smiled manically, his little white teeth contrasting against the dark skin of his face. It was a crooked little smile of perverse joy - the kind of perved-out joy that was characterized by the prodigiousness and profligacy of an experienced fuckboy - and then he gritted his teeth and ripped the beads out of Kai's butthole with one quick yank. Kai threw his head back sharply in pleasurable anguish as he felt the sting of his young cunt being punished by the beads. He screwed up his eyelids and opened his mouth in a gasp of sweet agony.
'Ah!'
The audience applauded, and I could see Sabu proudly holding up the string of beads like they were some kind of trophy. He even licked his lips, clearly relishing his work. Yup, Kai and Sabu certainly vindicated themselves. Their little performance was amazing. The only thing they didn't do was fuck each other. But it was a fitting link to the last element of the finale, which was planned to culminate precisely at midnight - on the stroke of New Year.
The last element of the finale was a bukkake. One lucky boy always got chosen to take the final volley of spunkloads from the still horny clientele, and thus provide a fitting ending to the day's depravity, as well as providing a quite delightful spectacle for the rest of the already depleted and exhausted guests. That boy, to my extreme delight, was Chip. There was nothing I would have liked better than to see his tight, well-toned, beautiful little 10 year old body thoroughly saturated with man sperm.
The boys cleared the stage, and quickly removed the futons and pillows. Guus helped to dry up the mess they left behind. When the stage was clear, the last element of the finale was able to proceed. Chip was brought out, escorted back onto the stage by the other boys like a captive little slave, and in no time at all, he was surrounded by horny men. Chip got down on his knees and they all jacked their stiff adult dicks. Chip was really into it, ratcheting up the eroticism by goading the horny guys who surrounded him, pointing their rampant dicks at him. 'Spunk me!' he was calling out, 'Fuckin' blast me!' You could see the guys responding to his plaintive demands, provoked by his taunting, inveigled by his fuckboy prodigiousness. The audience on the sidelines, meanwhile, watching the proceedings, were variously jacking themselves off over their boys or were preparing to join in. They could do whatever they liked. Even some of the boys were having their little cocklets sucked or were busily tugging their stiff little todgers as the men jacked off over them. More of the guys from the audience got up one by one, their big adult dicks inordinately aroused by the spectacle unfolding before them, and were of course free to join in as they wished. This autonomy - this understanding that they were free to act on every little whim - was, I'm sure, the primary attraction of Guus's New Years Eve Bacchanal. There was really nothing else like it. The amazing thing was that Chip was so eager, so willing, so fervently committed to what he was doing, that he succeeded in whipping up the anticipation to almost fever pitch. I could see Guus sitting on the sidelines watching all this, with a self-satisfied smirk of twisted delight and pride, like some accomplished ringmaster. Meanwhile, the men were surrounding Chip who was kneeling on the floor, offering their hard dicks for him to suck, and he was sucking on the tips of their cocks, moving from one to the other giving each a token sampling of his magical little orifice. The men stroked and pumped their dicks, mustering their reserves as midnight approached. The countdown to New Year started and the audience all gathered around with eager anticipation, counting down aloud. When they were ready to let go, it was as though Chip was assailed by an angry cum-fountain - every inch of his tiny frame and smooth young skin was sprayed by the misappropriated fuckwads of thirty or so massive cocks, most of them from horny and virile young guys who ejaculated with an almost violent vigor. He got it full-force in the face, washing over his cute little round spectacles, soaking the tight little curl on his forehead, dripping all over his pretty pecs and tight tummy, in the crack of his perfect bubble butt, even his armpits and little boyfeet.
On the stroke of midnight, everyone cheered, welcoming in the New Year, and when the guys had finished, the last few stood back and surveyed the diminutive figure of Chip. He was dwarfed in the middle of those tall adult men, and they seemed to be admiring their work. Droplets of pure white man sperm trailed down his body. His tight little balls were glistening with it. It was even running down the shaft of his stiff little dick, dripping off the end of his erect boycock. It looked so sexy, almost like he had spunked all over himself. That thought was inordinately arousing, tell you the truth. Seeing that thick, white, gobby sperm dripping from his stiff dickie and hairless little balls, especially knowing that Chip was too young to spunk up yet… oh fuck, it was beautiful.
Chip stood up and paused for a moment, looking lost in the midst of all those men. He held his arms out, away from his body and looked down at himself, enthralled by the sight of his body greasy with sperm. Then he looked up, smiled mischievously and seemed to shrug with a 'What the heck' expression. Then he threw himself down on the futons and started rolling around like a dog in mud, as though trying to cover every inch of his little body in the stuff. Chip loved this kind of stuff. He seemed to have this innate understanding of the pleasure this afforded his audience. He was a real performer - and that was the difference between a fuckboy who just went through the motions, who merely submitted passively to whatever was being done to him, and one who was really into what he was doing, who was not only sexy and dirty but had an inherent awareness of how to demonstrate his zeal, and how that zeal was perceived by his audience, and the incalculable value that added to his performance. He was utterly devoted to his vocation. You can't buy that kind of dedication. And you can't fake it either. You either had it or you didn't, and Chip had it in abundance.
Kai and Sabu were standing on the sidelines watching, their little bodies still shiny from their piss-games earlier, their little todgers stiffly sticking out. They both looked at each other with a resigned shrug then simultaneously jumped on Chip with a rousing cheer. All three boys started wrestling and writhing together on the futons. They happily set about smearing themselves and each other with this big puddle of cum, literally wallowing in spunk. Fuck, these were quite the most depraved shota boy antics I'd ever seen.
On the sidelines, I sat with Ten who was gently stroking my stiff little dick in my crotch, not jacking it, just massaging it gently. Next to us, Guus had surrounded himself with his own little harem of boys. He had already emptied one load deep inside me earlier in the evening, but then the other boys all gave him a nice blowjob too, and had been working him up over a long period. They all licked and sucked on his dick and played with his balls, jacking his rod until he came close, then letting it go. Guus loved those kind of edging games - keeping him just on the brink of orgasm, so that he was fairly close to blowing, but not actually allowed to cum. When they had played with him enough, he was literally begging them to let him shoot. His cock was pulsing with anticipation, as hard as steel and aching to spunk up. Finally, with a few deft flicks, they jacked him hard and he sprayed his copious spunk all over them. It burst so high up into the air that he gave them all a little cum shower, and they all closed in, presenting their naked little bodies under his big cock so they could get sprayed by him. Fuck, it was fantastic.
After that, the boys could do pretty much as they liked. Those of us who hadn't cum yet, or wanted to do it again, just fucked each other while Guus watched. His cock was sore and he couldn't cum any more, so he just played with it, softly stroking his big fat rod as he watched. The nicest bit of all, for me, was watching Chip fucking around with Kai and Sabu. Chip powerfucked them both, pneumatically rooting them each hard and fast, his firm, hard, rounded little butt thrusting into their boycunts with a technique which implied maturity and experience. Chip's technique was way beyond his years, more reminiscent of a seasoned porn star. What surprised me about Chip was that he was maturing in a very alluring way. His little todger was growing and his stamina was quite impressive. He cummed twice, dry cumming in each of their little butts. The second time, Chip cummed so hard that it made his little balls tremble. Of course, that was nothing out of the ordinary for Chip. As I said before, Chip could dry cum repeatedly. Fuck, how I envied the horny little bastard.
Meanwhile, I was assailed by a few renegades who obviously hadn't had their fill yet, and was efficiently fucked by a whole series of mancocks in quick succession. My butt was so much in demand that I was barely able to keep count of how many men fucked me. By then I was tired and hazy, my head was spinning and I felt generally weak and apathetic. I simply didn't have the energy to be a lively fuck. Not that it mattered. They fucked me anyway. They had to relieve their rampant organs somehow, and the ubiquitous Viagra almost compelled them to seek the relief of an obliging shota boy cunt. I'm sure some of those guys overdid it, but if you think a dose of Viagra makes little difference, think again. I can tell you from experience that my sensitive little snatch felt their tumescence very keenly. A natural erection is at least a little malleable. But with the Viagra, they were so hard and irrepressible that their tumescence was almost painful. A Viagra-induced erection is altogether more rigid, harder and less flexible, thus more painful when its proprietor chose to fuck it into you real hard. There was something else as well. Psychologically, their erection was guaranteed, which made them more violent and reckless. In fact, it encouraged the men to be rough and impetuous. They knew they could be as rough and aggressive as they wished because even a bit of pain and discomfort was not going to diminish their hard-on. Such was our fate as fuckboys. A violent and painful rooting was part and parcel of being a shota boy.
And that was exactly how the evening ended, what I remember of it, with a thoroughly brutal fucking, face down on the futons, so I didn't even get to see the last guy's face. He was big though. A heavy, brute of a guy, with a thick dick which filled my chute with his fuckslime, and he even did me the courtesy of staying in me, pummeling my dripping snatch even after he had shot his wad into me. To give him his due, he didn't stop until he had made me cum too. My little dick eventually gave up the last few precious drops of kiddiecum I had left. I cummed with my hard dickie squashed against the futon. I could feel my little hairless balls draw up so tightly that they nearly disappeared into my body. Damn, that hurt. My balls were pulsing so strongly it was almost as though they were being squeezed dry. I really had no kiddiespunk left. It was all gone.
That evening of total debauchery may as well have been the final days of Sodom. Though we didn't know it at the time, it was the last such event of its kind. It was the last day we were all together, and the last time we enjoyed the freedom that Verolino was famous for. The day after New Year's Day, there was a dramatic turn of events that made Ciggy's warning frighteningly prophetic. Even as we partied, UNVERO was preparing to abandon Verolino, just as Ciggy had predicted. That left Verolino in danger of falling to the rebels and us lucky to escape with our lives.
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