Date: Sun, 10 May 2020 15:01:46 -0700 From: Jason Ford Subject: The Deal, Chapter 5 The Deal Chapter 5: The Night Visitor By James Forbes This is an 18-chapter series of (partly) fiction created for the entertainment of interested adults, partly based on my experiences as a youth. Please read no further if you are underage, if this is illegal in your area; or if you are offended by explicit sexual stories. Names and locations have been changed. This would have taken place in the pre-AIDS era. The main focus is on physical and psychological domination, submission, various punishments, and kink. If you enjoy this kind of story, please show your appreciation by making a donation to Nifty Archives. Go to: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. And if you need a good sub in the San Diego area, or have comments on the story, contact me at jasbike1@gmail.com. Sometimes weeks would go by without me seeing Scott, sometimes a few days. It was always at his instigation--that was clear from the start. So I waited, tried to hang out with his dad at his house, spent time in my front yard, which was right across from his house, even tracked his schedule. I knew he had soccer practice in the early evenings, so I would be riding my bike on the street at about the time he'd get home with his mom. My bedroom faced the street, so I would leave a reading light on to let him know I was there. This time around, it had been almost a month when nothing sexual happened, other than beating myself off constantly. My thought would go to Danny's beautiful body, Andrew's thick cock, but then what would get me off was Scott and the nightmarish things he had done to me. I would instantly cum when those thoughts entered my mind. So there I was in my pajamas, with my reading light on, one night, and there was a tap on the window. My heart jumped. It was Scott. He said only, "Back yard by the garbage cans. Five minutes." I didn't want to wake up my parents, so I climbed out the window and crept around to the back of the house, which was completely dark. I couldn't see Scott, but I knew he was nearby. As before, I never heard him coming up behind me. He grabbed my pajama bottoms and whipped them down to my ankles. I sucked in air. Then he reached around and popped all the snaps on my pajama top, yanking it off of me. I was naked and began to shake with fear. "Prisoner's arms out to the side." I did as told, and he quickly wrapped them with rope to my mom's clothesline, which was about shoulder height. Scott walked along the clothesline, then back. I couldn't see what he was doing. Then, still behind me, he clipped a clothespin to each of my tits; he'd evidently grabbed them off the clothesline. I gasped with the pain, and my knees nearly buckled. He instructed the "guard," "Tell the prisoner this is the deal this time: Keep those on, and this won't get any worse." I nodded my head. It seemed like something I could do, at least for a few minutes. Scott walked around in front of me. "Guard, did you bring that stick from the woods the other day?" I had seen him rummaging around a tree while I was trying to walk on the log as part of my "deal" that day, but I was way too distracted by the rock tied under my swinging balls to pay much attention to it. What he brought out was a long four-foot-long, thin branch. He bent it slightly this way and that, then whacked his hand with it. My whole body began to quiver, now that I could see what he was about to do. Scott put the stick in my mouth sideways, and slowly dragged its length along my tongue. By the time he finished, it was dripping with my spit. He made me wait while watching him calmly take off his shirt, then shoes and socks, pants, and finally his boxer shorts. His body was flawless in the moonlight, with a flat stomach, 26" waist, and smooth legs. In fact, even at almost 13, the only body hair he had was his tight brown bush above a 6" cock, which was fully hard. Then he began, first with light taps to my chest, nearly knocking off one of the clothespins when I flinched. But I remembered his warning to keep them on, so I tried to stay still. The hits got harder, and closer together, down to my stomach, and right above my dick. It was still nearly smooth from the shaving he'd done to it a few weeks before in the bathroom, with only a hint of stubble. Scott walked around behind me and, starting at my calves, really starting laying into them with the stick. Even in the dark I could see red lines across my chest and stomach starting to brighten. By the time Scott got to my ass, I couldn't help but twist and turn a little, trying to avoid the most sensitive spots. I lost count of how many whacks he gave each ass cheek, but it was at least 20. My back wasn't spared. Finally, he walked around to my front and rubbed the rough stick up and down my balls. It was like sandpaper, and I jumped at the shock. The clothespins were bouncing up and down, so I tried to stop moving. Scott knew exactly what he was doing. Then he started whacking the underside of my balls, harder and harder each time. After several hits, he whipped the stick at my dick, which was hard at a 45-degree angle. I grunted in pain. Using one finger, he held the tip of my dick down so it was straight out from my body, then began hitting my shaft with the stick. My dick immediately began to turn pink, then red. As a final insult, he grabbed me just below the dick head, and hit the tip with the stick. Hard. I yelped and jumped. Horrified, I saw one of the clothespins pop off my tit, which hurt way worse than when he put them on. Scott bent over slowly, put the clothespin back on my tit, and said, "Now the prisoner will pay the price." I thought everything he had done that night was the price, but I was so wrong. He walked behind me and I could hear something. A squishing sound? Not water, but liquid maybe. Then I felt it: pressure between my ass cheeks. Oh god. Before I could process what was about to happen, Scott's cock plunged all the way into my ass. I had never had a cock in there before, and the shock was overwhelming. My whole body stiffened. He pulled nearly all the way out, slowly, and I could smell the hand lotion he had used on his dick. Then it was all the way to the hilt, again and again, not fast but with force. I could feel his pubes hitting my red ass, and it stung each time. He started going faster, then reached around and slapped my dick with his hand each time he plunged his cock in my ass. When he grunted, I could actually feel his cum shooting deep into my hole. Spent, he pulled out and wiped his cock off on my pajamas, got dressed, and slightly loosened the ropes holding my arms to the clothesline, but left me tied up with the clothespins back on my tits. He walked around behind me, and as before I could feel him back there but wasn't sure if he'd left or not. I waited several minutes before getting myself freed from the ropes, getting the clothespins off without yelping, and getting my stained pajamas on. I dragged my aching body through my bedroom window, but wasn't able to sleep. My mind was still racing about what had happened. Finally, I walked down the hall to the bathroom—the one where Scott had tied me up, shaved my crotch, jammed a shampoo bottle in me, and peed on me a few weeks before. When I turned on the light and took my pajamas off, I was horrified to see the red stripes on my chest, stomach, legs, and ass. My balls were red, too, and my dick had red marks all over it. Defeated, I went back to bed and tried unsuccessfully to sleep, thinking what had happened, and what Scott might make me do next.