Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2024 19:56:23 -0700
From: gayD <gaydic@gmail.com>
Subject: Teen Brothers Play Tarzan - Chapter 2

Hi guys,

Well, as they say, "Let the games begin." Morton is bigger, stronger and
older, but Kent seems more cunning and tricky. Do you think Kent is doing
this because he is sexually interested in his big bro? Or is he doing it
simply because he aggressive and enjoys mastering others, especially those
who are bigger and supposedly in control? Please enjoy.

Bruce Darkforce at gaydic@gmail.com

Teen Brothers Play Tarzan

Part 2 of 4

When all the tape was removed, Tarzan stood strong and firm, keeping the
treasure location secret. He was proud that he had withstood his little
bro's attack. He made it. He won.

Kent grabbed Morton by his long hair and pulled gently, "OK, it's time for
you to reveal the location before my men and I take this to the next
level."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Morton thought. He won already.

He withstood the torture. What's going on? He wanted to be untied, though
his rag gag would not let him communicate that. He did want to know what
Kent had in mind. Morton was curious, so he shook his head no.

"No matter," Kent said. "I wouldn't want you to spoil my fun by giving up
too quick, anyway!" And, true to his Tarzan character, Morton would never
give in so fast. "Glad to see you're sticking to your character." Morton
was starting to sweat a little.

Again, Kent marveled at his fully tied-up older brother. He loved his new
idea of staking Morton's feet to the ground. Such a masterful touch! Then
... he flipped up the front of the loincloth and smiled with that evil,
bad-guy smile he had when we played these games in the top role and said,
"I bet if I took this thing off you, I'd find some good spots to put tape
on ... AND RIP OFF!" and then he pretended to start to untie the knot that
held the bootlace around his waist.

The loincloth was cut from a large sheep skin chamois his dad used to wipe
the water off his car. Morton had cut it into a long strip, about 10 inches
wide. It was a little tricky to put on. He had to be naked, then tie a
bootlace around his bare waist. Then he tucked most of the sheep skin under
the boot lace in the front, leaving only about a foot hanging down his
front. The bulk of the sheep skin went under and between his legs, then up
over his ass, and was tucked behind the boot lace in the back, leaving
about a foot of the skin hanging down over his ass. So, his hips were bare,
showing only a few inches of the bootlace waistband. If Kent untied one
side of the lace, the whole thing would drop to the ground.

Morton started to shake his head violently when Kent touched the lace. He
twisted his hips away the tiny bit he could to keep Kent from getting at
the knot. But Kent stopped almost immediately, laughing at Morton's
consternation, and continued with the interrogation's next phase.

This was not the first time that Kent had mentioned stripping Morton all
the way for their games. Several times, he would suggest that Morton just
ought to take everything off before he tied him up. He said this would make
it more "realistic," and he even showed Morton pages from one of his comic
books where the guys getting worked over in the dungeon were naked, except
you only saw them from the back and then only part of them. But Morton
always said he didn't want to, and Kent didn't press it. Up until now,
Morton was only bare-chested.

Morton had a special reason to retain his loincloth. He didn't want Kent to
see his boner. It happened before, but not like this. Morton would be so
embarrassed if Kent saw his hardening dick, especially when Morton was
helpless to cover it up or to turn away to hide it.

"Let the game continue!" Kent announced. And with that, Kent disappeared
into his house and returned with a large pot of hot but not boiling
water. As in some games before, they prepared hot water ahead of time to
use during the game. Kent took some facecloths and put them carefully into
the hot water. The water was almost hot enough to burn his hands, but not
quite, so he knew it would not burn Morton's skin either.

Kent slowly and with great suspenseful drama, placed a cloth on his back
and slowly moved it around like he was washing him there. "OOOWWWEEEE!"
Tarzan screamed into his gag as he jerked his body against the ropes.

Then he put that one back in the hot water, fished out another washcloth,
and placed it on his chest. Again, "OOOWWWEEE!"

"Time to speak up. Tell me about the treasure." Tarzan refused again.

Another hot cloth was placed against Tarzan's thighs, belly, and
armpits. That really got Tarzan rattled, but still, he remained
silent. Well, except for the muffled screaming, that is. Kent knew that
none of his "tortures" were over the line quite simply because if they
were, Morton only had to nod his head "yes," indicating that he would talk
and surrender the treasure. So, in a real sense, Morton was in full control
as to how much torture and pain -- really discomfort - he would
receive. Also, consider that some of this "pain" created varying degrees of
erotic sensations. So Morton was OK with whatever Kent did to him ... so
far.

More hot clothes assaulted his body, causing the King of the Jungle to do a
jerking dance on his tiptoes. It was like Kent was performing some
religious ceremony as Morton continued to flinch around uncontrollably. It
was kind of awesome, beautiful, and erotic, all at the same time. This
torture lasted for almost 10 minutes before he introduced the next and
newest addition. Birthday candles.

These he lit and held very close to his skin, still damp from the
washcloths. He soon found that the best spots were his armpits, the front
of his flat belly, his nipples, and his belly button. Some wax dripped on
Tarzan, but the idea here was to give him a sense of being burned. Despite
going through four little candles, Tarzan still wouldn't give up the
treasure's location. So far, Kent seemed to be losing the game but wasn't
noticeably unhappy about it. In fact, because Tarzan was not giving up, it
was a delight for Kent to continue torturing his big brother -- as of late
-- his sexy big brother.

Again, Kent left to go into the house. This time, he returned with one of
his favorite torture "tools," a bowl of ice cubes from his kitchen
freezer. From past games, Kent knew that Morton was extremely sensitive to
cold objects, and therefore, ice cubes were one of Kent's favorite "methods
of persuasion" in his growing bag of tricks. Tarzan tensed against his
bonds as soon as he saw the bowl of ice, and Kent's glee was unmistakable.

Kent asked Tarzan again if he was ready to talk. This time, he removed
Tarzan's gag. "Tarzan, you have two choices: give up the location of the
`hidden treasure' or be further tortured in any way I choose."

Even though the gag was removed, Tarzan shook his head, "No."

"You have to say it," Kent insisted.

"OK," Tarzan spoke clearly for the first time. "No, I won't tell you
location."

"No, I gave you two choices, give up or accept whatever torture I want for
you. What will it be? Tell me the choice you want. Say it clearly." This
was another new element; Kent wanted to add humiliation to the scene. He
wanted to feel what it felt like to hear Tarzan humiliate himself.

"Tarzan want more!"

"NO! Spell it out, or I will go especially hard on you. Say it."

"Tarzan want more torture from you. I want whatever torture you choose to
give Tarzan. I will still never tell about hidden treasure.'"

"Beg me."

Tarzan took a deep breath, "Please torture Tarzan. Please just do
it. Tarzan want tortured to prove he will never, under any circumstances,
tell you anything! So, please, for fuck sake, torture me all you want."

The happy Kent - maybe the sadistically happy Kent, by now -- took a large
ice cube and applied it to Tarzan's torso. Kent had a way of applying ice
that got the most shock and shivers from Morton. Kent would drag these
ice-cold touches out until he felt Tarzan could barely stand it, and still,
he'd continue with this prolonged, almost unbearable torture. Tarzan was
trembling and sweating. He was bouncing on his toes. Kent applied ice
behind Tarzan's knees, on his elbows, up and down his backbone, on his
upper inner thighs, his belly, his nipples, his armpits - a favorite spot -
and anywhere else he thought might cause the Jungle King the most
discomfort.

Kent thought that at any moment, Tarzan would blurt out, as was usual in
their games where Morton was captured, "OK! OK! No more! I'll talk! I'll
tell you everything! Just don't torture me anymore! I'll talk!" But not
this time. Tarzan refused to talk. He felt that he successfully resisted
the worst Kent could do to him. So, so far, Morton has been successful. In
fact, up to this point, his refusal to quit caused him to develop a deeply
rooted stubbornness. It was odd. Morton saw his success as something that
was building his resolve. In other words, he made it this far. He could go
the distance and beat Kent by not caving in, ever.

Kent could only think that whatever Morton wrote down on his secret paper
must be so embarrassing or humiliating that he'd go a long way to never
revile it. FUCK! Kent was so over-charged, so excited, so fucking pleased
with his big brother. WOW! What in the world is he so scared of? He
supposedly wrote down two awful things he did not want done to him as part
of his torture. They must be fantastic! It may be that Morton drew energy
from his successfully resisting Kent. BUT... Kent drew even greater energy,
power, and will by big brother's refusal to divulge his two secrets. Kent
now felt he had persimmon - given to him by Morton - to pull out all the
stops!<br> <br>

There was his Tarzan, straining in his binding, on his tiptoes, with his
toned arms and somewhat muscular legs held in a spread-eagle position,
expanding his recently developed chest. Kent could not shake this new image
of his brother, downing only a loincloth, a skimpy one at that, looking so
sexy looking.

Was it sexual? They were both straight. What was it? Kent loved seeing him
all stretched out and hanging helpless, totally at his mercy. Maybe it was
just the sense of power. He was young, Morton was older and more muscular,
so having power over big brother might be the turn-on. It was new to
Kent. He secretly wanted to gently caress Tarzan's body all over in a
tender and loving way, but the only way he could do any touching was with
an object of torture in his hand. He kept those "weird," new feelings to
himself. He knew he would never act on them.

Kent used more ice cubes on Tarzan for another fifteen minutes. By this
time, most of Kent's ice had melted, and Tarzan had been stretched under
the tree limb for almost an hour. His arms and legs grew numb from the
tension and lack of movement. This was the longest time they had ever
played a capture game, and never one like this. Even though neither of them
was ready to quit, Tarzan was coming to the end of his ability to stand on
his toes in his spread-eagle position. He could feel his arms giving out,
so he told Kent to untie him.

"Nah," Kent said, "We ain't finished yet. Just a little longer."

"No, man! You can't. C'mon, you gotta untie me now. I think my circulation
is cut off or something."

"Then ... you better talk. That's the only way I will release you, Tarzan."

"No! Tarzan won't talk. Never. But you gotta untie me anyway."

Kent thought for a minute and then offered a solution. "OK. Here's what we
can do. I'll untie you, but you're still my prisoner, and I still get to
torture you some more. Only I'll take you somewhere else and tie you
differently... so you won't hurt. OK? Agreed?"

"OK, Tarzan agree."

"You gotta swear you won't try to get away or anything like that. Tarzan is
a man of his word. You got to promise and obey."

"I swear. Tarzan promise. I'm still prisoner. You just gotta let me down,
though."

Kent untied Morton, and the sudden release of his arms brought a burst of
pain as his arms fell downward. It nearly brought tears to his eyes. His
legs were also hurting pretty bad. After Morton had a few moments to walk
around and shake his arms out, he sat on the lawn. Kent came up behind him,
gently took big brother's arms, and drew them behind his back. Kent had him
place one elbow in each palm. His forearms were parallel and
side-by-side. It was definitely more comfortable this way, so Kent bound
his arms behind him using a soft, cotton clothesline.

"OK," Kent said to the imaginary guards, "Take this prisoner to the special
torture chamber. We'll continue to work on him there." He helped Morton
stand and then shoved him gently ahead of him over to the house. Morton was
marched into Kent's bedroom without resistance, as promised. The boys had
separate rooms. Then, the guards shoved the jungle man onto the bed and
placed him in a sitting position.

They had used his bed before in their games, so Morton knew the drill when
he was told to sit facing the footboard in the middle of the bed. It was a
big queen-size bed with huge, heavy oak corner posts, and it was to these
that he would fasten Tarzan's limbs.

Kent got up on the bed and squatted behind the cooperative Tarzan to untie
his hands. Then he had him lie back while slowly and carefully tying each
wrist to the headboard posts. Since he knew Morton had sore wrists, he
carefully wrapped each wrist with a heavy sock and secured it to a
bedpost. Then Kent got off the bed, went down to the footboard, reached
over, took big brother's ankles, and pulled Tarzan hard toward him, causing
his arms to snap out to full extension, locking his elbows straight. After
spreading Tarzan's legs wide apart, much wider than they were spread in the
yard, he again wrapped each ankle with a heavy sock and tied them to each
foot post with the cotton cord.

Tarzan was now "staked out" on his back, on an imaginary dirt mound, in the
middle of the jungle, helplessly spread-eagled and waiting for the next
phase of Kent's torture program. But was Tarzan ever going to talk? What
more could Kent do to him?

Kent got back on the bed and straddled Tarzan's chest, a knee on either
side pushing up into his armpits. He leaned over and rubbed the jungle
man's shoulders and down across his chest. "Tarzan, you gonna tell me where
the `hidden treasure' is now?" Kent asked.

"No," Tarzan responded, just like every other time he was asked. "Tarzan
not."

"Look, if you tell, I'll massage away all your aches and pains and soothe
your body with precious oil." Kent offered as he continued to rub Morton's
sexy body.

Tarzan was stunned. He liked little bro's soothing, caressing touches. He
had no words. He wanted to tell his captor, "No, I won't tell you." But
then Kent would stop his gentle rubbing. So he pretended to think about it.

"You have been so brave, Tarzan. Best to now tell me what I want to know
and let me make you feel good and relaxed. I know your body aches. Let me
work my hands all over you."

"I ... I ... Tarzan ... I ..." Morton was so torn. He had never been
touched and caressed so lovingly as his brother was doing now. He wanted it
to go on forever. All he had to do to keep the touches coming was tell Kent
where he had hidden his secret paper. The paper on which he wrote the two
worst tortures that would make him give up.

Kent could tell Morton was very conflicted. He knew he loved this
massage. Kent had a little trick up his sleeve. As he rubbed Tarzan's
chest, he "accidentally" let his fingernails lightly rake over Tarzan's
nipples. Kent kept an expression on his face as if he had no clue that he
was giving his captive an erotic charge with each flick of his nails over
each of Tarzan's nipples.

Morton thought that if he continued said he wouldn't tell, Kent would
stop. If he said yes, he would tell. Kent would stop anyway and go retrieve
his secret paper. He felt Kent would not really keep massaging him in
either case. Plus, he was afraid of what would happen if the massage
continued. He was still tied spread eagle, and he was getting a boner
again, a firmer one this time, hidden under his loincloth.

Tarzan let out a couple of involuntary moans and hoped that Kent did not
hear them. He definitely did not want to say yes or no, so he remained
silent.

This was as far as Kent would let him linger with no response, "So ... you
won't talk. That's fine. You know what that means? If you don't tell?" Kent
asked.

Finally, Tarzan spoke up, "Yeah, Tarzan know."

"It means I'm gonna have to torture you some more until you talk. Are you
ready for that, Mr. King of the Jungle?" Kent asked, taunting him more.

"Yeah, go ahead. Tarzan not afraid!"

To be continued...

Again, some of you want to see the photo of Morton in his skimpy loincloth,
held on by a single bootlace. Sure. When you log-onto GayTies.com, click on
"Find Member" and type in my name, "Darkforce," then click on my photo
albums. He's there.

So, now they are on Kent's bed. Wow! It's tease-time! But to what extent?
These boys are straight, right? This is all just a game of domination.
Little bro dominating big bro. But, somehow, I think the roles may be
flipped. You think? Morton is bigger and stronger. If you enjoy my stories,
please go to GayTies.com and join, it's free. Thanks, Bruce.