By Skinner
Copyright 2020 by Skinner, all rights reserved
* * * * *
As he strolled idly through the aisles of the deserted grocery
store, Tom Martin wondered how long the business would survive. No
matter when he visited, he never saw more than two or three other
shoppers there, and as much as Tom loved the store - situated walking
distance from his office in a largely unoccupied business park - for
its friendly owners, extraordinary butcher, and carefully selected
products, he feared the reality of produce costs and rent prices would
soon overwhelm the young business. There was another reason Tom enjoyed
visiting the store. The friendly owners referenced above were a couple
in their late 50s, starting a second career after a they sold their
small tech start up. From his first time at the store, Tom knew which
one of them was in charge of hiring. With a comical consistency, every
employee at the store besides the owner’s niece seemed to be a cute guy
between 16 and 21 years old. It was actually somewhat jarring for Tom
to meet the shop’s youngest employee - he only found out the boy’s age
because the owners introduced him to Tom as another relative - as he
thought to himself how he was a full decade older than the young
cashier. The remainder of the employees were affiliated with the
college up the road from the business park (the founding concept behind
the ill-fated complex was for companies to attract graduates to work
for them with the advantage that they could maintain a connection to
their undergraduate social circles). Unfortunately for the developers,
despite each others’ presence, neither the park nor the campus were in
a particularly interesting part of the state, with the nearest major
city over an hour away.
Tom was at the store in the middle of
the afternoon because of a gap in his schedule, and he was the only
person in sight. He briefly questioned if the store was even open,
looking over the vacant checkout kiosks and unattended butcher case.
After picking up the least wilted parsley and carrots he could find,
along with a bottle of olive oil and some bread crumbs, Tom made his
way towards the deli to grab a sandwich for lunch - although he figured
he might have to make the damn thing himself judging by the staffing of
the rest of the store. Tom was relieved when he saw the telltale mop of
hair come into view behind the deli counter - way behind the deli
counter in fact, Connor seemed to be seated on something low to the
ground, resting his back against the wall behind the deli counter - and
happy to see that his favorite employee was apparently the only other
person in the store. Walking closer, Tom saw that Connor was absorbed
in his smartphone, probably streaming some TV show to pass the time in
the desolate market.
As soon as Tom finished that thought,
however, something else came into view: Connor was seated on a milk
crate, and as he held the phone with his left hand, his right hand was
working furiously between his legs. Connor’s mouth opened silently and
he suddenly jerked his head back. When he opened his eyes, he
immediately met Tom’s gaze. Connor managed only a startled “oh!” as he
doubled forward, his phone bouncing on the rubber-grated floor as his
hands flew to cover his crotch. Tom was standing at the counter now
looking down at the hapless Connor, who bent his head upward to look at
Tom with his face frozen in a sheepish wince. “oh god I’m sorry Mr.
Martin” he stammered out.
“It’s Tom, dude I’m not that much
older than you,” Tom offered, looking down at the pitiful, florid face
of the mortified 17-year-old “what were you up to back there?” Connor’s
eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, staring back at Tom dumbly.
“Connor, answer me, what were you doing before I walked over here?”
“I” he looked frantically at Tom, hoping the man would use some goddamn
deductive reasoning instead of insisting he confess: “I was watching
porn on my phone and jerking off” continuing into his explanation
uninterrupted “I was literally the only person here and I have been
since noon when Janice left and I didn’t even hear you come in there’s
supposed to be like a bell or something on the door, and you’re not
going to like say anything to Janice, right?”
“Connor, I know
you want me to be cool about this, but what if I had been a mom with a
young daughter? What if I had been like a 90 year old woman? If you’re
gonna do something like this at least post up in front of the security
monitors in back so you can stay out of sight and keep an eye on the
store,” Tom chided.
“But Tom, seriously, I can’t lose another
job. My dad said he’s gonna cut my trust fund payouts in half if I lose
another job. He already cut them by five grand a month after I lost my
last job!” Connor whined, betraying the exact level of cluelessness
this kid had about the economic realities of the broader world around
him.
“Look, Connor, I don’t want to rat you out either, but
how can I be sure this won’t just happen again some time?” Tom asked,
feigning authenticity.
“But I’ll do the thing you said, just go in back, I promise I won’t let it happen again.” Tom pleaded
“I’m just not sure that’s good enough, Connor” Tom said, shaking his head with finality as he started to walk away.
“Wait! Please, there must be some way to make this right.” Connor was
begging now, already starting to feel his extravagant lifestyle being
dialed back.
Tom stopped with his back still turned to Connor
as a grin flashed across his face. He turned to face the boy, now
standing at the deli counter, the surface of his apron still deformed
by his jutting privates underneath. Tom sighed, following with “I
suppose it would be reasonable to offer a punishment as a deterrent for
you doing this again in the future. It would have to be something
significant enough that I would be comfortable knowing you’d never
repeat your mistake.”
Connor hesitated, but only for a moment before he agreed.
“Lock the front, put up the closed sign” Tom said flatly
“But, what if someone wants to come in?” Connor asked genuinely. Tom
returned his gaze, his expression unchanging, and after a few seconds
Connor assented “fine, you’re right, I’ll lock the front.”
Tom
shouted for Connor to join him in the back of the store, and he found
Tom seated next to the security monitors across from an empty metal
chair. Tom beckoned Connor to sit down with a nod towards the chair and
the boy complied. Tom looked over Connor’s familiar form: he was about
6’1” and still had the slender frame of a teenager. His store uniform
polo hung loosely about his bony shoulders and the bright red deli
apron swallowed the rest of his silhouette in rigid canvas. The lines
of his mother’s face had already mostly melted away from his own as a
man’s face took shape from his boyish countenance. He had a mess of
thick blond hair, which Tom remembers being short about 6 months ago.
The boy’s dark eyes looked uncertain as he looked back at the man
seated across from him, his eyelids quivering slightly above his
faintly freckled cheeks. “We’re going to play 20 questions, well a
version of it anyway. I realize that I come in this store all the time,
and we frequently talk about my projects at work and plans for the
weekend, but I really don’t know much about you. I’m going ask 20
questions about you, and you will answer me truthfully.” Tom explained.
“I still want my damn sandwich too. Now I want you to know, this all
ends with your package on that panini press while it’s heating up to
make my lunch. It’s gonna stay on there for 90 seconds. Every time you
fuck up, if that’s talking back, moving your hands off your head
without being told, or being a cunt in any other way, shape, or form,
then you can add 50 seconds between when you turn that thing on, to
when your grill time starts. I trust you have a good idea of how long
that thing takes to heat up: so do I - I eat lunch here every damn day,
and I know that press takes 10 minutes to reach its blistering
operating temperature. How hot does it get anyway? 400 degrees?” Tom
asked cruelly, chuckling softly to himself he added “doesn’t matter,
your junk doesn’t have a thermometer, it’ll just know what’s too hot
and what’s way too hot. Just keep in mind that at 160 degrees, you’ll
get a 3rd degree burn in 3 seconds, and since you’re gonna be in the
hot seat for 90, I wouldn’t let more than 2 or 3 minutes of delay build
up. You already fucked up once, so that’s 50 seconds right there. I
recommend you keep track of that time.”
For the first time since Tom first walked in on Connor, the boy looked truly frightened.
“Go ahead and take off your apron,” Tom commanded.
“Uhhh” Connor started nervously,
“Yes.” Tom paused for just a moment and went on “I know what is under
said apron.” Connor looked back blankly. After another pause Tom
coaxed, “Yes I still want you to take it off.”
Slowly, Connor,
looking befuddled, reached back to pull the straps untied. Pausing to
look at Tom as if hoping for him to reveal that the whole thing was
just a joke, Connor hesitantly reached up to loop the strap around his
neck forward over his head, folding the apron forward into his lap.
“You can put the apron on the ground now.” Tom added calmly, smiling at the inevitability of the boy’s exposure.
“Man look I don’t want you to see my dick OK can I just put it back in my pants first?” Connor asked indignantly
“No, Connor, you’re going to keep your penis out this whole time. You
don’t have to keep it hard, but at your age, I doubt it’s going down
any time soon.” Tom said firmly, “and I’ll remind you that you’re
getting dangerously close to another 50 seconds of waiting time.”
With that added motivation, Connor curled in his lips and took in a
breath. He moved the apron to the floor and sat back in the chair. His
penis was erect and sticking out through the fly of his black jeans. It
was about five and a half inches long, Tom guessed, but only looked
about 5 inches with some of the base concealed by the stiff denim. Tom
was surprised to see that Connor was uncircumcised, the tip of the
boy’s wagging erection topped with a quarter inch knob where his
foreskin closed tightly over the hidden glans.
“In fact, just
because you were being shitty about the apron, you’re gonna be a little
more out in the open.” Tom told the boy, standing from his chair. “It
may even make that dick look a little bigger” Tom added spitefully, the
Connor’s cheeks coloring with shame after Tom struck at one of the
teenager’s deepest insecurities. When Connor had just started high
school, his friends convinced him to try masturbating in a group with
them. As an angst-filled and uncertain 15 year old, Connor was made to
lay bare the full capacity of his growing manhood along with the other
boys. He saw immediately that he was at the lower end of average. He
surveyed the four other sets of bulging teenage packages belonging to
his friends and was mortified to see that they all were at least a
quarter inch longer than he was, and they were all circumcised. Ever
since then he has done whatever he can to keep other guys from seeing
his stuff, and was horrified that he would meet a girl who thought he
was too small. “Stand up and unfasten your pants,” Tom continued as the
boy complied, “OK, now pull your balls out through the fly of your
boxers along with your penis.”
Connor gave Tom a worried look and argued “but I don’t think they’re gonna fit.”
Tom started to get irritated as he bent down to look at the boy’s fly.
He hooked his finger in the bottom of the fly and yanked down. Connor
jumped back in shock at the invasion of having the man’s finger so
close to his genitals but held still when Tom glared up at him.
Measuring with his fingers, Tom stood up to show the boy how much space
there was, “you mean to tell me that a peach fuzzed boy like you is
packing three inch eggs down there? I’d like to fucking see it. You’ve
earned another 50 seconds and unless you want to earn another 50 and
have me force your little stones out myself, you’ll whip ‘em out right
now.”
Chastened, Connor bent forward and reached under his
boxers with his right hand, his left parting open the small opening in
the fabric, pressing up on his shaft to make more room for the fragile
orbs. He grimaced as he popped the first one through, and it hung to
the left side of the boy’s fly with a tether of wrinkled white skin
extending back to the teen’s humid crotch. He grunted audibly as he
forced the second one through, pulling at his skin to bring out more of
his sack and give his balls more room.
“OK, now fasten your
pants again and let’s continue.” Connor’s head shot up and he almost
started to say the word “but” when Tom’s silent stare stopped him. He
started pulling the top of his pants together, closing the inflexible,
zipper-studded fabric around his once private parts. On his first try
his left testicle was squished inward by the tightening seam and he let
the pants loose again, trying to hold himself forward with one hand and
close his pants one-handed with the other. After watching Connor
struggle for a few amusing seconds, Tom said, “here, I’ll help you” and
reached forward, gathering the teenager’s organs in his hand,
encircling them at the root and pulling gently but firmly forward.
Connor stumbled a few small steps forward from the force of the pull on
his junk, but quickly fastened the button on his jeans and sat down.
His penis did appear longer, it’s full 5.5 inches on display with the
tension of the denim parting slightly the edges of his foreskin. He was
a pitiable sight in all: a thin lad sitting with his package pushed
forward out of his jeans on display, his nearly-2-inch balls nestled
tightly under his hard shaft.
Tom was excited to start this
part of his monologue. “As you know, my work is very high-stakes, and
part of the reason my boss is comfortable working with someone as young
as I am, is that I have always had a remarkable ability to determine
accurately whether or not I’m being lied to. As an example, I’m going
to give away the first five questions: each one is the same: ‘tell me
something about yourself.’ For one - and exactly one - of these answers
you will lie and make something up.” Tom looked at his silent captive
“Go.”
Connor’s mind started racing. How could he fool this
guy? Was it all a bluff? What are those tricks about looking one
direction or another when you’re telling the truth? OK focus, I have to
say something: “Um, ok, I was captain of my soccer team in 3rd grade, I
went to Phoenix last summer with my family to visit my cousin and his
family, my name is printed 20 times in the school yearbook - I know
because I was the editor and used the computer’s find function before
we sent in the final proofs - and my older brother was in the Marines
for 5 years.”
Tom blinked once when Connor finished as his
mind locked in on the boy’s words, his posture, his timing. The truth
stood out to him so clearly, he had to add a thoughtful pause to
maximize the dramatic effect. “First of all, thank you and your family
for their service to this country. Your brother was indeed a Marine.
Second, you’ve earned an additional 50 seconds for ignoring my
instructions and telling me two lies.”
“What?!” Connor gasped “Wait no what the hell are you talking about?! I only told one.”
Tom cut him off “TWO lies, Connor: first lie was the trip last summer,
I don’t know what was not true about it but I know you were lying, and
second, you do genuinely believe your name was printed 20 times in the
yearbook, but you are lying about being the editor.” The boy’s stunned
silence and expressionless face told Tom he was exactly correct.
“How… but wait I didn’t know that counted!” Connor said
“Well I’m sorry, but I was pretty clear about how many lies you were
supposed to tell me, and that puts you at a total of 150 seconds, in
case you weren’t keeping track, so I HIGHLY recommend that you avoid
getting any further time. Your first real, but sixth overall, question
is: what’s your greatest personal goal in life?”
Connor felt
his ears heat up as he felt the anger rise in his chest. Who was this
guy to come in here and start bossing him around? His mind hadn’t fully
adapted to the testosterone that had relatively recently started
pounding through his body and he yelled back “MY GREATEST GOAL IS TO
WATCH ALL THE FAGGOTS OUT THERE LIKE YOU GET AIDS AND DIE.”
Tom pushed himself up from the chair and stood over the boy. Connor was
consumed in the shadow cast from Tom’s 77 inches and 230 pounds, and he
immediately knew he had made a terrible mistake. Beyond being
frightened he was genuinely embarrassed of what he had said, and
started “Tom, I’m sorry”
Tom was fighting to stay calm and
immediately answered “no I’m sorry, sorry that you feel that way
because what you just said can’t be adequately punished with more
waiting time. And I’m afraid we’re going to have to make this whole
thing a little less casual.” Tom knew the boy regretted lashing out,
but he had to be firm. He zip-tied the boy’s wrists and ankles to the
chair and kneeled before the boy. Tom added “and we’re going to keep
all of you on display,” and reached forward, grabbing Connor’s jutting
shaft between his thumb and forefinger just below the head and pushed
down into the boy’s groin. The teenager started to squirm a little in
the chair as his tight foreskin was dragged down over the slick, moist
bell of his penis head. Tom pushed harder stretching the skin down all
the way to expose the red inner foreskin, forcing a shudder from the
humiliated boy. Connor was even more embarrassed when he saw what state
his privates were in. Obviously this whole affair started because he
had been masturbating, and the sticky, drying pre-cum was now gathered
in thin white ribbons under the ridge of Connor’s glans, the damp fishy
fumes of his adolescent arousal drifting up from his parts to the air
around him.
Tom sat back and began again: “Ok onto question
seven is it? Connor, you know, I really was going to make this mostly
getting-to-know-you questions, with maybe a few embarrassing ones at
the end. I really thought a few seconds on the grill and the
humiliation of having your dick out the whole time would be plenty of
punishment. Now I know you need a little more work to soften up, so
we’re gonna get a little deeper. Question seven: when did your penis
first start to grow?”
Connor, his courage battered and will
bending, had his head down through that little lecture, but lifted a
meek gaze at Tom’s question, waiting only briefly before resigning to
answer, “I think I was 13, almost 14.”
“Ah a late bloomer
then” Conner needled, watching the boy’s face flush rose “OK question
eight, how big was it when you first measured it?”
“I think it was almost 4 inches, right after it had started growing - I was in eighth grade” Connor added.
Tom was pleasantly surprised by the additional detail the boy offered,
but didn’t say anything, hoping to see how far he could get Connor to
go. “Very good, and how old were you when it got to 5 inches”
Connor blushed a deeper red but continued “I think I was 15 and a half,
it was at the start of my sophomore year in high school, and I remember
I was so happy to be at least 5 inches I masturbated right then and
there.”
Tom continued to muse at the boy’s loosening lips and
pressed on “Questions nine and 10: how long is it now and when did you
measure last?”
“I’m almost five and a half inches now, I
measured it the week before graduating high school, so 4 months I
guess?” Connor estimated.
“Question 11: do you like girls or other boys, Connor?”
“Girls.”
“I kind of figured” Tom added, smirking dryly, “question 12: when was
the first time a girl touched your penis? I’m not talking about your
mom, here, Connor, I mean a girl around your age.”
Connor
shifted in his chair again, his penis swelling subtly more, looking
increasingly uncomfortable. “Uhhh I was 15, it was a girl at summer
camp and we ended up figuring out that we were camped near each other
on our backpacking trips.”
“Question 14: when was the first time you pulled back your foreskin?”
Connor blushed his deepest red yet, and stammered with a sheepishness
Tom felt was out of proportion to the question “Um I was 15 also.”
“Question 15: what the hell happened that you were so embarrassed by the question?”
“Do I have to tell you?” Connor asked, sounding defeated.
“I mean…” Tom started
“NO! I don’t want any more waiting time, I’m sorry” Connor replied
quickly “well, um, it was actually also the first time a girl touched
me there. I texted her to walk towards a blinking light and then I
walked about 40 feet out from my camp until I was just about in the
middle between the two camps. I flashed the light on my phone towards
her camp and she met me there. We started out just kissing then I got
to feel under her shirt.” Connor continued. A pearl of precum parted
the lips at the tip of the boy’s penis head and started to roll slowly
down the tight frenulum. “She started rubbing my chest and then I
reached down and started unbuckling my pants. She stopped me and
started talking about how she couldn’t have sex because her cousin just
got pregnant in high school and her parents were all freaked out. I
told her I had never had sex either and said we should just fool around
and see what happens. At that point she completely shifted her attitude
and stopped my hands as I reached back down to undo my belt. She asked
if she could do it, and my 15 year old brain just about flew out of my
skull from horniness overload. I couldn’t even speak to say yes so I
just held my breath, bit my upper lip, and nodded my head really fast.
She pulled my pants down and my dick was sticking up like a metal bolt.
I was leaning back bracing my body on my arms stretched behind me
thinking I was the teenage king of the world. She gripped my dick right
in the middle and started moving the skin on the shaft up and down just
a little at a time, her hand maybe moving a half a centimeter up and
down and pretty slowly. I told her that what she was doing felt really
good - I think she knew it was the truth because my voice must have
cracked eight times while I was saying it - but that she needed to
mover her hand a little more and work a little faster for me to feel
really good. Bless her for trying, I realized I had made a big mistake
when she tightened her hand on my dick and first yanked up towards her,
then ripped all the way back down. That’s as much pumping as she did
because when she pushed down, the head of my dick popped through my
foreskin for the first time and I screamed out at the shocking sting
between my legs. I was scared she had seriously hurt my penis, and
panicking asked her to use her phone to light up my crotch. She and I
both now had a view of my wounded package: in her shock at my pained
reaction she never let go of my dick, and her hand held the foreskin
back tightly. I looked at my tip for the first time and could see a
thin membrane between the rim of the head and the inside of my skin and
I actually started crying when I saw that the membrane was ripped apart
about 2/3 of the way around the rim. There was this thick layer of
white stuff under where the membrane had ripped open, and it smelled
really bad, like rotting fish. Unfortunately for me my scream woke up
both camps and within a minute, with this girl still holding my penis,
had counselors from both camps and a growing number of campers were
standing around me, gawking at me as I cried quietly and held my penis
up on my open hands jostling my weight between my feet to try and keep
myself from crying harder. My penis shrank down to a tiny size, like
less than two inches, and the sensation of the head against the hair on
my balls was like razor blades, but I was too scared to try and push
the skin back, so all I could do to protect it was hold it in my hands
on display like that, the head sticking out for everyone to see, red
and raw where the membrane had ripped, and stinking up the whole area.”
Tom was floored, but tried not to show it “Wow, OK I get why you were embarrassed… Let’s count that as two questions.”
“Thanks” Connor said feebly
“Question 17, getting close now, Connor, what is your absolute favorite body part?”
“Um, ok well since I started being able to get my skin back more easily, I think my tip is my favorite body part.”
“Question 18: why is it your favorite?”
“Well I don’t know, I mean, it’s just it feels really amazing to touch
it now. One time a girl even pulled my skin back while she was giving
me a BJ and it was just amazing. It’s really sensitive because my skin
pretty much stays over it all the time. There’s just nothing in the
world I would trade for my tip.” Connor explained, again in surprising
detail, looking down fondly at the bared end of his penis.
If
you could write an adolescent boys’ anthem, that last declaration would
make a damn good title, Tom mused, smiling to himself before continuing
on, “Question 19: How old were you the first time you came?”
“Oh man, OK, don’t judge me, but when I was 14, just a couple weeks
before my 15th birthday. I was riding on my older brother’s motorcycle
with him and we were going along this long country road in the middle
of nowhere when my junk started to feel amazing and tingle with the
vibrating bike. I started to get hard and after about 30 seconds I was
panting and begging my brother to pull the bike over. He asked me what
was wrong and I told him what happened. He started cracking up and told
me I had just cum! He offered to stash my boxers away if they were wet
and uncomfortable but I told him they didn’t feel wet and he just said
I wasn’t able jizz yet, but that I could make that feeling come back if
I rubbed it when I was by myself.” Connor said.
“Clearly you took his advice,” Tom jabbed “but I meant when was the first time you ejaculated, like made semen come out.”
Connor stared at his feet, “I kind of hoped that wasn’t what you
meant.” He went on after a deep sigh, closing his eyes tightly he said
“The first time I jizzed I was 16. It was 4 months before I turned 17
and I was so happy to have finally made cum I kissed my fingers and
accidentally tasted it” Tom had to suppress a laugh “I didn’t really
‘shoot’ until well after my 17th birthday.”
Connor was clearly
devastated by having to reveal the secrets of his late development. Tom
felt for the poor boy as he though about how he must have watched all
his friends becoming men around him, ashamed and trying to hide his
boyish genitals during school showers and slumber parties. Mercifully,
Tom allowed, “Thank you for being so cooperative, Connor. For telling
me all those extra details, I’ll count that last answer as two
questions. Your interrogation is complete. Now let’s get ready to wrap
this up.” Tom saw the boy gulp cartoonishly when he pushed a heavy
stand mixer up beside a low table, fetching the panini press from the
deli and setting it up just around crotch-height. Connor watched Tom
plug the machine in, and felt his rebellious boner finally start to
wilt as the fear set in.
Connor was visibly terrified as he
walked towards the mixer. He had gone a ghostly white, and from his
shoulders down was trembling slightly. He shuddered as his back pressed
into the cold metal of the heavy industrial stand mixer. His knees
rested on the small platforms above the wheels on the rolling frame as
his feet stuck backwards, zip-tied at the ankles to the middle wheel
posts on the frame. His hands were zip tied above his head to the top
of the mixer as the matte silver metal of the oversized mixing bowl
pressed Connor’s hips fully forward. Tom’s gaze traveled down to the
soft dangling flesh between the boy’s legs. The boy’s uncircumcised
penis was shriveled in fear, now just shy of 2 inches. Even when it was
erect, Connor’s penis was on the slimmer side, and with everything
tightened up by the adrenaline raging through his body, the boy’s
slight frame and small genitals made him look like a boy still in the
throes of puberty.
Connor’s jaw was flexing rhythmically as
he gritted his teeth, staring down at his exposed manhood and awaiting
its punishment. “Now’s the time, Connor” Tom said, almost gently, as he
started to feel for the boy; the plaintive, hysterical look in the
teenager’s eyes as he shot a glance at Tom hit him square in the chest.
Tom turned the knob on the press, watching his adolescent captive’s
whole slender frame wince at the sharp, familiar click of the machine
switching on. He started his timer, and began to count off the 150
seconds that Connor had earned over the course of his earlier
punishments. Connor’s body winced again each time the grill plates
creaked as they grew ever hotter. By two minutes, when he started to
see the first heat lines forming over the borders of the press he began
to almost whimper.
With 20 seconds of wait time remaining,
Tom, feeling lenient, stood up early to get the boy prepared for his
final punishment. He walked up to the boy, kneeling, trussed up on the
heavy mixer a little less than a foot away from the waiting grill. Tom
walked around to the front of the boy and knelt down, looking the boy
in the eyes. Alright Connor here we go. I’ll keep the phone visible so
you know how much time you have to go. Tom turned to open the grill,
discretely touching the plates with his hand to make sure he wouldn’t
be grievously injuring the boy. They were hot to the touch but not
enough to burn, Tom guessed they were about as hot as a hot tub, maybe
100 degrees. Tom tried to ballpark the number in his head, and figured
the plates should be a blistering 120-130 degrees by the time Connor’s
punishment window was finished. Leaving the jaws of the press open, Tom
stood up and walked around to the back of the mixer. Bending low to
push with more force, Tom inched the mixer closer to the low table on
which the press was stationed. Connor clenched his jaw, fighting back
tears as he began to feel the radiant heat from the press on his most
tender area. When the root of Connor’s penis was a few centimeters from
the grill, Tom walked back to the boy’s side. He took Connor’s penis
into his hand, and looked up at Connor’s face. The boy looked down at
him with his lips shriveled together tightly, breathing raggedly. He
lightened his grip, holding his adolescent prisoner’s small package up
at the base of the penis. Tom used his other hand to pinch Connor’s
shaft, pulling toward’s Connor’s body to stretch back his foreskin.
Connor gasped before Tom made much progress, and for the first time
since he had been tied up to the mixer her spoke “Wait no, what are you
doing?”
“Connor, I told you we were going to grill your penis
on this grill today. You didn’t think that meant you’d get to protect
your favorite part of your dick with this, did you?” Tom added,
pinching the end of Connor’s foreskin between his thumb and forefinger,
and stretching the skin downwards until it slid from his grip, the
elastic recoil sending the boy’s penis flying up to bounce off his
patch of blond pubic hair.
“So, you’re gonna grill the tip
too?” Connor asked nervously. When Tom nodded, the corners of Connor’s
mouth twisted downward and his eyes squinted as he started to lose
control, sharp fragments of sobs breaking through his stoic facade as
he watched Tom reveal the most sensitive, private part of his already
exquisitely sensitive teenage dick. Tom held the boy’s foreskin back
tightly, exposing the slick, red, inner foreskin, as fickle adolescent
hormones made the limp organ swell slightly to around 3 inches in
length at the man’s foreign touch. Trying to hide his own apprehension,
he laid the vulnerable penis on the grill. Connor yelped when his penis
first touched the plate but his panicked panting slowed quickly. Tom
lowered the top of the grill and started his timer. He placed the phone
where he and Connor could both see the screen and waited.
At
first, Connor felt relieved: he’d half thought that his dick would
sizzle and smoke as soon as it touched the quickly warming metal, but
this felt no warmer than a hot shower. He began to think the whole
thing wouldn’t be that bad when he felt the plates get warmer, then a
little warmer, then a little warmer still. He felt like an idiot when
he realized it would simply continue to get warmer the whole time. By
20 seconds, the first beads of sweat started to form around Connor’s
forehead and at the roots of his faint rumor of a mustache. By 40
seconds, he had started to give up the occasional throaty “ah” or
stifled “ow!” Connor finally broke down and started to cry just after
60 seconds had passed. He started feebly trying to move his hips, to
shake himself free as the heavy plates seared and compressed his most
precious body part, but it was hopeless - the zip ties kept his limbs
firmly fixed and he had little ability to change his positioning on the
mixer. He begged Tom for relief, the seconds seeming to double and
triple in length as the phone’s stopwatch crawled past 70 seconds “Tom
get it out, please take it out of there. It’s burning my dick
pleeeeheeheeheeheeasseeee” he drew a lung full of air as his crying
reached a new pitch and tears began to flow thickly down his cheeks
“don’t let it hurt my penis please - the grill - ahhaahaaahaa please
it’s gonna ruin my dick”
Tom remained emotionless, and shortly
after Connor finished his humiliating plea, he said “90 seconds is up”
and opened the grill.
Connor blinked the tears out of his eyes
to clear his vision and looked down at his penis resting in Tom’s hand
as Tom pushed the grill back from the edge of the table. He felt
lightheaded when he saw the shriveled strip of flesh resting in the
man’s hand and mourned what had become of his most prized organ. The
porcelain white skin was marred with deep red grill lines cutting
diagonally across the short shaft, becoming a livid blue-purple as they
continued across the shiny, sensitive glans. Connor’s crying, trailing
off somewhat from it’s peak, intensified again as he saw the neat lines
of blisters following the edges of the grill marks on his glans.
Although they were all small and varied in size he felt the same
lancing pain shoot down from each one through the head of his penis.
“Oh god my poor dick!” he exclaimed, squealing a high-pitched
“owowowowow” as Tom rolled the boy’s raw foreskin to cover his
blistered, stinging glans. By the time Tom got Connor loose, his crying
had reduced to sniffling, and Tom had the boy stand in front of him,
hands behind his back.
“OK Connor, you did very well, as soon
as that grill is hot - well, hotter - throw my sandwich on there, and
I’ll be on my way. But there is one last piece of your punishment, as
promised, for that one transgression that was a little too serious to
be punished for with waiting time alone.” Connor flushed white again as
he regretted his earlier indiscretion. “now that your punishment has
completed, you will finish what you started.” Connor looked confused -
this kid really wasn’t the brightest - and Tom elaborated “you’re going
to finish jerking off”
Connor reflexively stammered “oh, no
way!” Even if he hadn’t just had his penis grilled into oblivion he
would never intentionally jerk off in front of another guy.
“I
thought you might say that” Tom said, cleverly “and that’s fine, I was
always prepared for an alternate solution.” Tom walked Connor to the
loading dock, and hooked the zip tie that still bound Connor’s wrist to
the hook of the loading dock’s ceiling crane. He quickly zip-tied
Connor’s ankles to the metal ring welded to the ground and brought a
stool to sit before the anxious boy. “In that case, Connor, I’ll finish
the deed for you” Connor started thrashing around and shouting, trying
to escape. Tom slapped his hand hard against the boy’s tense stomach,
and he yelped, calming down. “That’s better” Tom said impatiently. He
moved the stool up to the teenager’s knees and sat, hooking his legs
around the boy’s to hold him in place.
He cracked the seal
on his new bottle of olive oil and looked up to relish the boy’s face
twisted in pain when he quickly stripped back the inflamed foreskin.
Holding down the boy’s foreskin with his left hand he coated his right
palm in olive oil and started to massage it into the boy’s exposed
penis. Connor immediately yelled and started to cry as Tom’s hand
glided indifferently over the screaming blisters on his exposed glans.
Despite the pain, the boy’s hormone-charged body started to respond,
and the splitting, burning pain intensified as Connor’s penis swelled
to it’s full, slim five and a half inches. His leg hairs caught the
light - from the darker curls over his calves to the short, fine golden
hairs on his thighs - and twinkled on Connor’s quivering limbs as he
squeezed them together tightly, arching his back to tuck in his hips in
a vain, desperate attempt to protect his hopelessly vulnerable young
manhood, the same tender flesh that was just cooked raw on the panini
press. Tom worked his hand over the throbbing teenage penis, squeezing
and twisting savagely when his palm reached the head. After about three
minutes, with Connor a blubbering, shivering mess, he shouted, voice
cracking “I’m about to jizz” and not five seconds later two thick
streams of semen shot out, the second flying farther than the first,
followed by five or six pulsing dribbles of cum peeking out from the
tip of Connor’s aching dick, each pulse arriving with a thunderous
spasm of the boy’s developing abdominal muscles. After he was finished
cumming, Connor’s spirit seemed to implode completely as he collapsed
sobbing, his weight dangling from crane hook as the uncaring zip tie
bit into the skin of his wrists and kept his hands bound, unable to
soothe the pride of his adolescence as it hung stinging and swollen
between his legs.
Tom cut the boy free. Connor fell to the
floor and cupped his hands over his crotch, rocking and crying for
another five minutes before he got up and got dressed. Connor finished
packaging up Tom’s sandwich and, still puffy under the eyes from his
forceful crying minutes before, even thanked Tom for “keeping
everything on the DL.” Biting into the perfectly toasted sandwich Tom
knew two things for sure: first, that Connor would never risk exposing
himself again. Second, Tom knew that he was going to jerk off until he
went blind replaying the events of that day in his memory - and of
course literally replaying everything all over again on the footage
captured by his AR glasses. Every time Connor saw Tom in the store
after that he blushed, but he remained friendly with the regular
customer. He even told Tom that after a couple weeks, his penis was
healed up and seemed to be no worse for the wear. It’s been five years
now since the store shut down, but Tom will always have his video.