Majority Rules by Blackdog theblackdogs@aol.com copyright 2004 by Blackdog, all rights reserved * * * * * This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story. * * * * * Prologue Like almost every young boy, Tim Waterman hated doing chores around the house. But he had a special reason, or reasons, for dreading it. This summer day, for instance, the 13-year-old lad was pushing the family's old-fashioned reel mower in the backyard, cutting the grass. It wasn't so much the chore that Tim minded, it was . . . well, imagine the scene yourself. Poor Tim was dressed only in a tiny jockstrap, one which showed off his taut, muscular assglobes in back and drew attention to the raging erection pushing out the front of the elasticized pouch that contained his aroused penis and tingling testicles. Attached to the point where the bands that ran from across his buns connected to the pouch was a vibrator that was jammed four inches deep into Tim's hot, tight junior high anus. And to make matters even worse, the buzzing plastic rapist in his rectum was coated with a thin layer of lubricant, into which had been sprinkled a little pepper. So as Tim pushed his lawn mower, he was not only showing off his nearly naked body (especially his throbbing boner) but enduring the buzzing and itching deep in his teenage ass. To add to the humiliation, the head of the neighbor lady, Mrs. Canfield, a busty auburn-haired lady who Tim had sometimes been less than polite to, appeared over the fence that separated their yards. "My, my, Tim, what's that you've got there sticking out?" she teased. "And what's that humming noise? No matter; I certainly like the way you're dressed! Ask your mother if you can come over and do my yard work, too, when you finish there." "Yes, Missus Canfield," replied Tim, being careful to be polite and respectful these days. He didn't dare be rude to anyone, especially to females. Tim's brown-haired cousin, Leslie, a tall confident girl with long tanned legs and a promising 14-year-old bust, walked into the back yard, holding a foot-long hot dog slathered in mustard in a bun. "Hi, Tim," said Leslie brightly, bouncing over to him in her small bikini, her firm breasts bobbling teasingly in the white swimsuit that also showed off much of the rest of her charms. "Hello, Miss Leslie," Tim said, trying not to be too obvious about ogling his gorgeous cousin. "Oh, how rude of me!" she said. "I forgot, you haven't had lunch yet. Would you like a hot dog?" Tim smiled; there hadn't been too much kindness extended to him by the females in his life lately; maybe things were changing. "Sure, that would be great!" he finally said. "COOL!" Leslie chirped. Before Tim could react she stepped behind him, pulled down the straps of his jockstrap, which yanked out the vibrator from his clutching asshole. With a giggle, she quickly slid the condiment-coated frankfurter deep into his defenseless anus. Leslie roared with laughter, as did Mrs. Canfield, as Tim stood there with five inches of tube steak protruding from his tailhole, and another seven inches lancing into his rectum and colon. "Look, Mrs. Canfield," said Leslie, pulling off the jockstrap so that Tim was totally nude. She slapped his swollen penis twice, causing the boy to wince. "He's got a hot wiener in front AND in back." Poor Tim blushed hotly. He was humiliated, uncomfortable, achingly frustrated and without hope. More weeks of this treatment stretched out in front of him. And he knew, deep down, that he had brought it on himself. Chapter One. The Waterman family was small, and definitely had a strong tilt toward the masculine. Elliot Waterman was a geologist with an oil company, a man who had once been a driller roughneck; he was an unique blend of crude and refined, just like the petroleum that was his livelihood. His wife, Katherine, was a well-educated, sophisticated beautiful woman who put aside her career as a writer to be a full-time wife and mother. Rounding out the family was Tim, a rambunctious young boy just finishing seventh-grade in school. Between Elliot's dirty-fingernail background and Tim's youthful exuberance, things sometimes got a little . . . inelegant around the Waterman house. The two men made vulgar jokes, snickered at the same sexy scenes in TV shows and movies, and behaved like two spirited males sometimes do. Tim, especially, was a handful. When his father was not around, he often blithely ignored his mother's instructions and admonitions. He left doors open, lights on, water running and dropped his clothes, shoes and other flotsam wherever he felt like. He belched prodigiously at the dinner table, and often responded to the need to urinate by walking into the backyard, hauling out his pisser and peeing right there on the grass or -- to his mother's rising anger -- in the flower bed. Katherine's efforts to control her son's petty but annoying transgressions were only successful when she could get her husband to weigh in her side; more often than not, Elliot would laugh off the latest report of Tim's antics by saying, "Geez, Kate, I did that when I was a kid!" When picking dinner, a movie to rent or attend, a vacation spot, the two males always outvoted her. She wanted French cuisine, she got hot dogs. She wanted to see a romantic comedy, she got violent action films. She wanted to visit museums, she ended up on camping trips. "Hey, mom," Tim would say. "Sorry, but you know how it is. Majority rules." And so it does to this day. Only, unexpectedly, the electorate changed. The same week that school ended, Elliot came home and told his family that he had been sent on a special assignment to Scotland to make tests for what could become a large oilfield there. He'd be gone six to eight weeks, but the assignment carried a huge bonus and the possibility of a major promotion. "I have to take this job, honey," said Elliot. "Hey, just so you and Tim don't get lonely, why don't you invite your sister Becky and her kids to come visit for that time? They'd love to come out here and it'd be like a vacation for everybody." Katherine was still a little steamed at her husband's plans, but the more she thought of it, the more she liked it. Becky was a no-nonsense kind of gal, with two spirited daughters, Leslie, 14, and Donna, 12. Together maybe they could bring Tim under some kind of control. And they did. But not in the way that Katherine envisioned at first. Chapter Two. The first sign that things were going to be different at the Waterman household was when Tim returned home one afternoon in late June after having played baseball with some friends in the park. Between diving for baseballs in the green grass and sliding along the clay-covered infield, Tim was a smelly, dirty mess when he came cheerily back to his house. As he walked up the steps to the front door he saw a neatly printed sign: "Please come around side of house; carpet being cleaned." "Damn," said Tim. He really didn't want to take the long way around to his room, so he didn't. He opened the door and walked in, tramping dirt and mud and sweat all over . . . what was this? Newspapers strewn in his path? What was going on? "Just as you predicted," said Katherine, as she walked up to the flummoxed Tim. At her side was her sister Becky. "It's a good thing we put those papers down, He just refuses to do what's asked of him." Becky grinned a feral smile that sent a shiver down Tim's spine. "I guess the solution is to stop asking, and start demanding," she said. She stepped forward and extended a hand to the 13-year-old boy. "C'mon, Timmy, say hello to your Aunt Becky." Gingerly he stuck out a hand, which Becky, a sturdy 5-foot, 7-inches to Tim's skinny 5-foot, 6-inches, grasped tightly, then abruptly used to twist the boy's arm painfully behind his back. "OWWWWWW!!! OUCH!" cried Tim. "Don't hurt him!" Katherine gasped while Tim was forced to his knees. "I just want him to be a good boy!" Becky grinned as she manipulated Tim's aching arm so he was face down on the carpet. "Don't worry, Kate; if we stick together and don't wimp out, he'll be a model son before the summer is out." The woman leaned down and put her mouth close to Tim's ear. "If I let you up, do you promise to do whatever your mother and I tell you, immediately, and without hesitation?" The boy paused for a long second, so Becky put more pressure on his arm. "OWTCHH!!!! God, yes, please, I will, I promise!" he blurted. Becky wasn't convinced, but she eased up a bit. "Remember your promise, Tim," she said, and let go of his arm. "Now, Tim," his mother said, patiently, "I want you to go back out the front door and come in the side way like you were supposed to." His eyes flicked back and forth at the two women; he knew that his father wouldn't put up with this. "I'm gonna go call Dad!" he said, and darted around the corner to the telephone on the stand by the stairs. Only he never got there, because he abruptly tripped over a piece of rope that had been stretched there as a precaution in case the young teen turned out to be as willful as . . . well, as willful as he was. Tim crashed to the floor with an "Oooofffffffff" and was briefly stunned by the impact. That was all Becky and a more reluctant Katherine needed to slip cuffs over his wrists and ankles. Tim started to open his mouth, but Becky produced a knife and brought its gleaming point to the tip of his nose. "Now, Tim, think carefully; do you really want to sass me or complain? Or do you just want to be a good boy for a while?" The boy, terrified of what might be done to him while bound, nodded mutely. "We need to get these dirty clothes off him," said Katherine. "But with his hands and ankles . . . " "This is what the knife is for . . . partly," replied her sister with a wicked smile "But we'll probably need some help lifting him." She turned and walked halfway up the stairs and shouted. "Donna! Leslie! Come down right now! You can unpack later! Aunt Kate and I need a hand with something kind of heavy . . . and fun!" In a moment the girls came clattering down the stairs. Donna, a prematurely busty girl of 12, with gorgeous red hair and freckles, just 5-foot, 1-inches tall, and Leslie, the brunette with the long hair and the teasing smile. They had been fathered by different men, but both shared their mother's lack of awe for the male species in general. Donna was dressed in a tight T-shirt that exhibited her thrusting firm young breasts; Leslie had on a tank-top that showed an appealing amount of cleavage. Both were dressed in shorts that stopped just a few inches below "heaven." "He's handcuffed!" said Leslie, a smile coming to her lips. "This is going to be fun!" Becky smiled. She loved her daughter's naughty spirits. "I've got to cut his filthy clothes off . . . and dress him in something nicer." She leaned over and whispered in both girls' ears, and they giggled with delight. "Be right back, mom!" said Donna. and the two girls pounded back upstairs. The woman then turned to Tim. "Now, Tim, I'm going to cut off these dirty clothes so you don't get any of this . . . crud . . . on the carpet. If you wriggle and fidget, you might get hurt . . . especially down here," she said, pointing the knife at his crotch. "So you're going to just relax and let us do our work, right? Right?" Tim nodded. The knife, the cuffs and the strange look in Becky's eye had the young boy cowed. It was easy enough to buffalo his mom, but this was very different. "Yes, ma'am," he said, croaking in his nervousness. Using the knife and a scissors that Katherine had brought, the two women quickly cut away his baseball jersey and pants, leaving him in just his underwear. Becky pulled on the waistband and prepared to slice into his last garment. "Becky, his . . . briefs . . . don't have mud or dirt of them. Maybe we could let him . . . " Katherine said, haltingly. She really did want to see her son naked, but didn't want to admit it. "Nonsense," said Becky, the scissors chewing through the garment. "We need a complete set of fresh clothing, like the girls are bringing." In an instant, Tim was naked, his teen cock and balls -- just adorned with a few hairs -- on display for his mother and aunt to see. "In fact, let's use this piece of material so that Tim won't be too uncomfortable seeing us see him naked," said Becky. She wound the fabric around his face, creating a blindfold. "Don't worry, Tim, we'll take that off in a moment." Donna and Leslie appeared then, holding Tim's new set of clothes. "Good job, girls. Now help me get him up and dressed." "He's gonna look so cute in these," giggled Donna. Chapter Three Together, the four females hauled Tim to his feet and walked him into his room, standing him against the wall. Still blindfolded, all Tim could hear was a rustle of motion and a series of whispers. After a minute of so, he felt hands encircle his chest, and a garment of some kind was fastened on. One ankle at a time was released, and a second garment was pulled up his legs and snugged into place around his groin. The cuffs then went back around his ankles. Tim was pleased to be no longer nude. After another minute or so, the blindfold came off. The first thing that the still-bound young boy saw was an amazing, eye-popping sight. His two sexy cousins were themselves nude. Leslie, the brunette, was standing there, her legs spread, fingering her cleft. Donna, the redhead, had her hands on her plump breasts, erect nipples between her fingers, as if offering herself to Tim. Tim didn't notice that off to one side Becky stood with a digital camera, quickly snapping shots of the boy, and his inevitable reaction. The image of the two pretty, naked girls quickly pumped blood into the lad's adolescent penis, and it filled, lifted and hardened. But something felt strange, and Tim looked down . . . two inches of his four- inch cock were protruding from the top of . . . what kind of underwear were these???? The girls continued to strike sexy poses; Donna sucked smuttily on her fingers, while Leslie turned around, bent over and spread her firm asscheeks. Despite his distraction, Tim felt his cock get harder and harder, and it seemed like his underwear were far too small. Breaking the erotic reverie was his aunt. "You look very sexy in that outfit, Tim," she said, and Katherine herself turned red and blushed and grinned. "Just what I had in mind." Tim looked down and saw that he was dressed in a frilly pink bra, and a pair of tiny thong panties with a cute bow. His straining teenboy cock had pushed out of the top and was throbbing obscenely over the silk hem. "What!!????" gasped the boy, stunned and humiliated as Becky snapped off more shots from different angles. "That's not all," she said. "Look at the sign behind your head." Tim craned his neck around and, sure enough, there was a sign with the lettering: "Hi! I'm Tim Waterman, the biggest sissy-fairy in town. For a good time, call 555-5151." The boy blushed beet red and started to sputter out his protests. "You can't. . . this is . . . Mom!! Help me!" "You brought this on yourself," said Katherine. "I'm tired of the way you just ignore what I say when your dad's not around." The girls were putting on their robes as Becky explained the situation. "Here's the way it is. I've got 30 or so really nice images of you in girl's frilly underwear with your nasty boner sticking out. I've framed the shots so the restraints aren't visible, but the sign and other background details of your room are. "I can quickly e-mail this file to all your little friends on your seventh-grade classroom list, using an anonymous service. I'm sure they will all get a kick out of these pictures, and it will make for a charming topic of conversation all summer and especially next fall when you enter eighth grade. "Or, you can agree to submit entirely, absolutely, instantly, abjectly to the authority of the females in this house. Whatever they say -- and by this, I mean Donna and Leslie, too -- to do, you do it, and damn quick! I don't care if they ask you to eat raw liver while you stand naked on the roof at high noon -- you do it! Otherwise, the pictures go out. Do we have a deal?" Tim was miserable, but he wasn't stupid. He knew he was caught in a trap. He nodded. "Not good enough," Becky said. "Say it out loud. Specifically." Tim raised his face. "I promise to obey every female in the house, no matter what they say for me to do," he said. "No matter what." "Excellent," said Becky. "Katherine, I think your son is going to be a fine boy by the time this summer is up." "It's not fair," mumbled Tim. "Ah, but we have you outnumbered, Tim." his mother said. "And you know the saying: 'majority rules'." Chapter Four Two weeks into the summer and it's a whole new world for Tim and the rest of the extended Waterman family. They say you can get used to just about anything, and that was certainly the case for poor Tim. His Aunt Becky was the clever one, devising punishments and humiliations to keep him in line. But his mother quickly warmed to the idea, and his cousins were positively devilish in their enthusiasm for tormenting the poor boy. For instance, it's a Monday morning. Tim awakes with his usual morning hard-on, but there's no help for it. A cock ring is cinched tight around the base of his throbbing four- inch stiff, and another band has been looped around his plump cum-filled balls. As he comes out of his sleepiness, he remembers what's been done to him. The door has been removed from his room and his bathroom. His shower curtain is transparent, and he is nude, all the time, all day, when in the house. He is really nude; all his body hair (not that he had that much of it) has been removed, from his pubic area, armpits, even between the cheeks of his firm little butt. He has to piss, which is a very difficult and messy process when you've got a steel-hard boner tapping against your belly. The best you can hope for is to be able to pee in the shower, and not mind it when your urine squirts sourly against your chest. It's 6:30 a.m., and Tim knows he has to be showered and ready to face the day by 7 a.m. He rolls out of bed and gingerly walks to the bathroom, his swollen teenboy cock bobbing and his tender balls sloshing between his tanned thighs. He hasn't squirted off in almost a week, which is agonizing since he is not only a horny 13-year-old boy used to jacking off three or four times daily, but also a healthy male who has been unmercifully teased and stimulated almost all of his waking day. He is just about to step into the shower and try to squeeze some backed-up piss through his twitching erection when into the bathroom bounces his redheaded cousin Donna. She's dressed in a tiny green bikini that barely covers her hairless girlcleft and the perky nipples of her large preteen breasts. "Hi, Timmy," says Donna, wiggling her torso so that her boobs jiggled even more. Tim feels his poor denied dick twitch up a notch. "Just wanted to show you my new bathing suit. Do you like it?" The boy nods. "Very nice, Miss Donna." "I'm worried that it might be too see-through in the water, though," she says. "Hey, let's take a shower together and see if that's true!" She throws open the shower curtain, turns on the water and leads Tim by his hand into the stall. "C'mon!" And, of course, Donna is right. The pale green of the suit turns practically transparent when soaked with water. All of the pretty young redhead's charms, including the red, swollen fingers of her suckable nipples and the pouting vertical slash of her seventh-grade cleft, are now visible to the helpless boy. "Well, I can't wear this to the beach," Donna says. "Unless I want to get raped. Unless I want some horny teenage boy to yank down my little panties and bury his hot bone balls-deep into my tight, hot little schoolgirl pussy," she says, reciting the teasing words her mother had coached her on. "Unless I want that fat cock to squirt load after big load deep into my sucking cunt." Tim is moaning now with frustration. His young cock is getting fatter and hotter, and his balls ache with pent-up sperm. The rings around his organs squeeze him uncomfortably, and the pee in his bladder that wants to be decanted is trapped in there as long as Donna continues her tease-and-deny act. Donna giggles as she watches Tim stand there frozen with the powerful sexual need in his body, but conditioned to do nothing that could be construed as disrespectful to the women in the house. "As long as I'm in here, maybe I can help you wash," she says. With that, she soaps up her hands and starts to run them all over Tim's body; across his shoulders, down his chest, over his stomach and finally to his upthrust 13-year-old cock with the purple tip and the bright red shaft. "Timmy's such a sexy boy," she says, teasing her small fingers all over his twitching organ and down to his restrained balls. She cups his sensitive nuts and squeezes them lightly, which makes him jump and twitch. "Boy, your balls sure are full. Bet you'd love to empty them, huh?" The youth says nothing. There were two ways he could do that, and both of them were so humiliating he hated the very thought of them. So he just grits his teeth while Donna strokes his poor tormented cock and balls and then runs her hands between his thighs and back up to his butt. "Gotta make sure you are nice and clean back here," she says, peeling his taut asscheeks open. "Gotta scrub your nasty boyhole real good," she adds, pressing two fingers against his anus and making a firm, circular motion. The sensation of having his tailhole rubbed makes his cock twitch up another little bit. His member really jerks when he feels Donna push her index finger palm deep into his rear. Tim writhes in sweet agony as Donna twists one, then two fingers in his rear, massaging his inner ass with teasing and tickling strokes. With the other hand she applies feather-light caresses to his supersensitive balls and cock. "Do you like the way Cousin Donna washes your body?" she purrs. "Do you?" "Yes, Miss Donna," groans Tim, his body shaking as she rapes him front and rear, making his blue balls ache more deeply as she teases and teases and teases . . . . Chapter Five The ladies of the Waterman house had quickly established a rather brisk routine. Tim was, of course, always naked inside the house. He usually wore only a tiny jockstrap when outside in the yard; he even went out front dressed that way when he brought the trash cans to the front of the house in the early morning hours of refuse pickup day. Sometimes he wore the cockring and ball cinch; sometimes he walked around with a dildo or vibrator snugged deeply into his tight 13-year-old asshole; lately the ladies had favored a buttplug. In any case, the youth went around all day long with a twitching, jerking, rock-hard erection. He was put to work doing every menial task the ladies could think of. He washed clothes, mopped floors, scoured out the toilet and the sinks. As he kneeled to scrub the floors, his cousins would sport with him like he was some kind of dumb pet; they rode his back and pinched his bottom and even flicked their fingers stingingly against his bobbing boner and supersensitive balls. To tease him even further, the women took to wearing more and more daring clothing. The girls started it, wearing either tight T-shirts that showed off their tingling hard nipples, or low-cut blouses that revealed much of their fresh, firm cleavage. Before long, they all began lounging around in see-through lingerie that left little to the imagination. The agonies of arousal and teasing drove Tim to the breaking point. "Please, ma'am, Aunt Becky," said a miserable Tim one day. "I've just got to . . . you know. My balls ache all the time. My dick is so hard it hurts like just awful. Please, just let me cum one time! I'll do anything!" Katherine and Becky had discussed this eventuality before. Both women were getting a tremendous thrill out of Tim's discomfort. The truth was that his lean, clean teenage body was darned appealing, and the sight of his rock-stiff cock and bulging testicles was already driving them to furious masturbation late at night. The chance to see him spurting off, to see his huge boy-balls pucker and pump out what had to be a huge gusher of hot male-milk intrigued them both. But it wouldn't do to simply let him haul out his formidable pisser and stroke himself off to a hugely satisfying ejaculation; no, the element of discipline and humiliation had to be present. So the ladies consulted and offered Tim a choice. "OK, Tim," replied Aunt Becky. "We'll let you have your precious orgasm. But not on your terms; we set the parameters and the conditions. We'll let you choose between two alternatives. The first one is this: you get on the carpet and lean back on your shoulders. Bring your legs up and forward, so that your nasty penis is pointed right at your face. Then you raise your head and lower your crotch until you put your penis in your own mouth. From there, you can suck yourself off, provided you swallow all your cum down and don't miss a drop." Tim blanched at this thought. "What's . . . what's the other choice?" he asked, softly. "Your mother and I went out yesterday and bought some wonderful new toys," she said. His mother, blushing hotly, held up one of them -- a strap-on dildo harness with a big black plastic phallus protruding obscenely from the front. "We've got one for each one of us. Your second choice is to be butt-fucked by each lady in the house. You can squirt off all you want, but we will be raping your asshole for at least an hour. Oh, and one more thing . . . we're gonna do it in the backyard. If any of the nice neighbor ladies want to take a turn, we're just have to let them, out of courtesy." Tim's mother moved forward and gently caressed her son's hair, then dropped her hand to his pulsing, throbbing erection. "Which is it, honey? I know you've got a gallon of hot boy-cum in there and you're just desperate to shoot it out." The boy let out a big sigh. Both choices were awful. But he was being driven mad by the pressure in his aching groin. "I guess the backyard," he finally said. It turned out to be great fun for the girls and great and terrible humiliation for the boy. He was on his hands and knees on the grass of the backyard -- grass he had mowed that same morning, wearing only that damned jockstrap -- while the women, giggling and tittering, pulled on their strap-ons over small bikini swimsuits. Through the agony of his need and embarrassment, Tim noted that his mother looked especially gorgeous. The thought of getting a chance to put his cock in her -- instead of the other way around -- sent a wave of erotic desire washing through his body, the effect of which was to make his poor tormented sex organs throb and ache all the more. Becky had him first; she kneeled behind and slid the fake cock -- coated with baby oil -- several inches into Tim's asshole. She stroked in and out several times, smiling to hear the boy grunt and breathe heavily. Katherine reached down and undid the cockring and ball cinch, and in departing, gave her son's twitching sex tackle a teasing caress. The aunt then started really punching it into poor Tim's ass. Teeth grit, the boy endured his rape, especially since the sawing of the plastic phallus in his anus was pushing him towards the release he so desperately needed. "Take it, boy!" chanted Becky. "Take my big black lady cock up your tight little shitter! You love it, don't you?" It didn't take long for Tim to cry out and arch his back and start to spurt. Long, thick streams of steaming boy-cum pissed hotly out of his gaping piss-slit, and you could almost see his balls pump as the hot semen arced from his purple cockhead onto the grass. The feeling was so overwhelming that Tim was struck dumb and blind for a long moment; the only thing he could detect was the engulfing relief of emptying his congested nuts and easing the pressure in his poor rigid penis. But once the feeling of squirting off faded, the discomfort of being butt-raped out in the open returned. Aunt Becky kept stroking deeply into his shitter, and to Tim's surprise, his cock had softened very little, if at all. In another minute of having his shitter pounded, the boy felt that sensation return and his cock and balls again exploded and shot thick puddles of semen onto the back lawn. Panting and wrung out, Tim was glad to see and feel the cock withdraw from his ass. It wasn't but a few seconds before he was sodomized again; now his mother moved behind him and fitted the phallus against his ravaged anus. She not only fucked his ass deeply, but she reached around and stroked his cock with her hand. The result was that Tim shortly was grunting and spasming through a third climax. Katherine soon fucked and jacked Tim to a fourth orgasm, although this one was weaker and with less cum. Leslie took over and raped his asshole powerfully, forcing one wet and one dry cum from the boy, who was now begging to be let alone. The females laughed at him and he was openly crying and sobbing when Donna used an eight-inch phallus on his poor, chafed butthole, and her teasing hands helped coax two more uncomfortable, almost painful dry cums from his tormented balls. Finally exhausted by his climaxes, Tim collapsed onto the lawn, almost unconscious. He gave no resistance as the women staked him out on the grass, arms spread wide, legs spread and raised, his ankles secured with cords anchored to the sturdy limbs of a backyard tree. A cock ring was back snugly around his penis, which was amazingly still half-hard after all that abuse and use. Chapter Six The boy was left out there, helpless, immobilized and on display for half an hour while the women disappeared into the house. When they emerged, they were giggling and whispering; even Tim's mother had a naughty look on her face. "We've decided that you didn't have to do much to get your delicious orgasms, so we concluded that part of you, anyway, needed some exercise," said Aunt Becky. She leaned down and wrapped a black blindfold around Tim's eyes, making sure it was good and tight. Then there was a rustle of clothing, and in another moment, the startled Tim felt a body hover over his head, and then his face become engulfed in the amazing scent and softness of a naked female's most intimate charms. "Eat me, little boy," commanded Aunt Becky. "Eat out my pussy and my asshole, and do a good job or . . . well, you know how cranky I can get. Just use that wicked tongue of yours like your life depended on it." She settled over his face, kneeled astride his mouth, her silky thighs caressing his cheeks. She faced his throbbing 13-year-old cock, and secretly wondered how THAT would feel in her needy cunt. Tim didn't know much about cunnilingus, but he did know he'd better do a good job, so he busily went to work licking and sucking his aunt's cuntlips, clit and humid anus. She wriggled around in delight, and muttered "Good boy!" as his tongue struck just the right spots in just the right way. The taste of the woman's intimate parts send fresh pulses of blood into the boy's already hard erection; he could feel it get thicker and fatter and longer, even within the restraints of the ring around his maleness. The sensation of being used, of being spread open and exhibited to the world like this was both humiliating to the boy, but a little bit exciting, too. Becky groaned and bucked her way through a powerful and wet orgasm under Tim's frantic ministrations; her juices coated his face. Shakily, she climbed off the boy and her place was taken by another female. From that point forward, the ladies didn't say a word; just sat on his face and mashed their pussies and asses down so he could pleasure them. He wasn't sure just who was who, or even if all four females had ridden his mouth, although the idea that he probably had sent his own mother into a sobbing climax with his tongue excited the boy. Finally, the blindfold was taken off and he was untied. Rubbing his ankles and wrists, Tim silently went back to his "routine" of being the naked, aroused servant and whipping boy of the Waterman family. Chapter Seven The teasing of the women again got to Tim. The sight of all that exquisite girl- and woman-flesh jiggling around in transparent negligees and sometimes less made Tim's balls ache anew, and the news -- via phone call to Katherine -- that his dad was going to be staying another month overseas drove the poor boy to desperation. Just three days after the women had sodomized him and used his mouth for their pleasure, he went to his mother and asked for another orgasm. He was willing to try to suck himself off. All four females gathered in the living room to watch; they had a video camera and the digital still camera as well, planning to add to the potential for blackmailing Tim into being their compliant slave. Being young and limber, he was able to assume the position. Bent over with his twitching penis pointed down to his mouth, he nearly was able to capture the tip of his leaking cock with his lips. Almost, but not quite. The girls were giggling and the women smiling at the picture of the young boy desperately trying to fellate himself. His lunges with his head to reach his straining cock just led to more frustration. "Here, let me help," said Leslie. She went to his side and grabbed one leg and pushed down on it, and was quickly joined by Donna. Their pressure allowed Tim's now-aching back to bow enough so that his penis slid into his mouth. The more they pushed, the deeper it went, and the boy suckled feverishly at his own purple cock-tip. After a minute or so of self-fellatio, the girls got an idea. Each one of them stuck out a thumb, pressed them together, and pushed their digits into Tim's asshole. He grunted as he felt the sudden invasion of his anus, and his jerky reaction caused his penis to pop out of his mouth. The pressure of their thumbs in his tailhole triggered a physical reaction, and a moment later the up-side-down youth was squirting a thick, heavy load of his hot semen all over his face. A few squirts landed in his open mouth, but most of the wet-pasty stuff sprayed into his eyes, up his nose and elsewhere. The females roared their approval as the thumb-raping of the boy made him coat his own miserable face with his slippery goo. The girls held his legs up and tightly stroked his squirting cock to make sure that every embarrassing drop of his cum landed on his face and neck. That was the last time Tim asked for that version of relief. The strap-ons were awful, but at least he didn't have to feel like a cum-dump for his own sperm. The women knew that a horny and teased boy like Tim could only go a few days without needing to empty his balls. So they concocted increasingly exotic and degrading ways for him to do it. The first time was a bit of a lawn party. The women invited all the middle- and elderly ladies on the street to watch Tim's "relief session," and they were thrilled to see the naked boy with the twitching, bound, red boner on his hands and knees. Having not seen a youthful stiffy in years, the women wanted to feel it, heft it, stroke it and otherwise touch it. They pulled open his asscheeks wide to see how cute his tight pink-brown pucker was, and not a few rubbed and outright fingered it, their bony or plump digits penetrating his anus and wiggling around. They stroked the inside of his thighs, tickled his nipples and pinched his bottom-cheeks. "I know it's wicked," said one 60-something lady with gray hair, "but I haven't seen a cock that red and hard in decades. Sure wonder what it would feel like to have another one in me." Aunt Becky grinned. "Well, why not? Let's turn him over on his back and you can all have a ride. His cock is still cinched tight, so it'll stay rock-hard without spurting any of his nasty sperm inside you." And that was how poor Tim turned into a living dildo for all the lonely, horny older ladies on the street. He was staked out face up on the backyard lawn, a vibrating butt plug in his rectum, his arms and legs splayed wide. The women, who ranged from fit and pretty to old and chubby, mounted him and slammed their needy pussies up and down on Tim's upthrust, steel-hard penis. Some of the women were so sexy and tight that it was agonizing denial to not be able to squirt his superheated sperm up out of his tortured, aching balls. Some of the women, well, good thing for the cockring. The plastic device kept him hard and throbbing when he might otherwise have not been very aroused. They dangled their breasts in his face and made him suckle their nipples; they hopped off his jerking cock and sat on his face, moaning and cackling while he licked out their lower holes. Most of the women had noisy, moaning climaxes when mounted on his cock or tongue. One especially large lady almost smothered Tim as she rode him, and Tim nearly blacked out when she straddled his face and bade him lick her steamy, wet cunt. The sated women them watched as the Waterman ladies placed Tim back on his hands and knees, untied his cock and put on their strap-ons. They were delighted at the way the females raped the poor male's asshole, and made him spurt, long, thick, heavy shots of his sperm yards across the lawn. Two of the women even asked if they could join in, and they did, so Tim was sodomized by six ladies, and shot off steaming squirts of sperm every time. Chapter Eight The "mature ladies" party was such a success that the Waterman women decided to try the other end of the scale. One of the women who had ridden Tim's iron bar of an adolescent cock and climaxed exquisitely on it, Krissy, was the leader of the girls youth group that needed an activity that would qualify for their "Exploring Nature" badge. Since one of the girls was having a birthday -- turning 9 -- they decided to combine the educational with the celebratory. Tim was again staked out naked on his back in the backyard, his cock cinched, his legs spread and raised. Only this time his legs were pushed forward and a cord around his cocktip pulled his pulsing, swollen penis in the opposite direction so that it pointed straight at the summer sky. The guests were a bunch of girls ages 8-10, who arrived giggling and laughing in wet swimsuits. The first part of this birthday party was a swimfest, and the dozen girls were full of high spirits when they came skipping into the Waterman backyard. When they caught sight of a "big boy" naked, hard and splayed open like that, they stopped short and an awed hush came over the group. Krissy, the tanned athletic 30-something blonde who was leading the group, chuckled. "You girls! Haven't you ever seen a boy's thing all hard and sticking up?" They all shyly shook their heads. The woman gave them a skeptical look. "Right. So none of you have ever seen your older brothers with a stiffy? Not ever? Tell the truth." A few shy looks, and one hand, then another, then another hand went up. A titter of giggles ran through the group when six of the little girls eventually raised their hands. "That's more like it. And how many have seen your daddy with a big old stiffy?" Three hands went up including Krissy's 9- year-old daughter Carin. "When did you ever see daddy with a boner?" Krissy asked, and Carin turned beet-red and lowered her face. "Never mind, we'll discuss that later." Krissy motioned the girls forward and had them stand around Tim. "For our nature exploration, we're going to look at an adolescent boy. We're lucky that this one is tame -- sort of -- and in the mood to show off how a boy's body works." She reached with a finger and traced it along parts of his body. "As you can see, young Tim here has an erection -- also known as a stiffy, a boner, a hard-on. It happens when a boy sees something sexy . . . the blood rushes into his penis and causes it to stand up. When a male with an erection puts it in a female's vagina -- that's that slit between your legs -- he can shoot out some white stuff called semen, and that's how babies are made. Any questions?" "Why is his thingie tied up like that?" Aunt Becky broke in. "He's being punished for being a bad boy. Would you like to see him punished some more?" she said. The girls all squealed in delight. "Yeah! Yeah!" they cried. Becky handed out switches, thin branches cut from one of the backyard trees. "Go ahead and hit him; aim for this butt and balls and cock. Hit him as hard as you can so he feels really punished!" That last part didn't worry Tim too much; how hard could these little girls hit? Tim soon learned. Some of the girls indeed did have a pathetic swing, but others nailed him sharply right on his nuts or on his quivering cock. His cries of "Ouch! OWWW! OWWWTCH!!!!!!" just made them giggle and try harder. Luckily Krissy intervened before the girls could get too carried away. "You'll get a chance to punish the nasty boy more later, girls," she said. "Now we'll continue with our exploration." She grabbed his cock, recently smarting from a direct hit, and stroked it up and down. "Boys' cocks are very sensitive. When they get hard like this, they want to have them be rubbed so they can shoot out that white stuff. Line up, girls. I want each of you to feel this boy's hard cock in your hands and stroke it a few times. Don't worry, it won't bite." One of the girls raised her hand. "Is we rub his thingie like that, won't it squirt that white stuff?" Krissy smiled. "Well, normally it would, but he's got a tight ring around his cock at the base here; that keeps any sperm from coming out. Go on, each girl stroke him up and down 10 times." Tim was soon writhing in agony. A dozen preteen cuties, all of them in tiny damp bathing suits, putting their tight little fists around his aching cock and stroking him. The urge to ejaculate was rising in him, but he knew he couldn't; if the cum bolted out of his balls, it would just be forced painfully back down by the ring. All he could do is moan in frustration as they jacked on his vulgarly displayed erection. When that was done, Krissy cupped his swollen, achy, cum- crammed balls. "Boys and men make their sperm in here. It's hot and slippery and when it shoots out it's real forceful. Some boys can shoot like 10 feet or more with their juices. It's fun to watch." "Can we see him shoot out his stuff?" asked one little girl. Other echoed her idea. "We'll see," said Krissy. "Now all of you feel his balls. Don't they feel plump and full of his hot sperm? He must have a pint of his nasty semen clogged up in his poor frustrated balls. Everybody cup them and give them a little squeeze." After 12 squeezes -- some gentle, some not -- attention turned to the boy's butt. Krissy ran a hand over his freshly-spanked buns, even digging in her nails for a bit to watch him wince and twist a little in his bonds. "Boys have firmer, more muscular butts than most girls. That's why when they're spanked, you have to spank them harder and longer than girls to get the same effect," she said, and then demonstrated by slashing him 10 times across his defenseless buttocks, eliciting cries and moans from Tim. "Between their tight buns is the anus, also known as the butthole, asshole, tailhole, shitter. Boys don't like to admit it, but their anuses are realllllyyy sensitive and it's very exciting to them to have something stuck in their snug little poopers. Now, don't worry; he's very clean. I want each of you to stick a finger in his anus and play with it for a bit. It'll be very interesting." Some of the girls were squeamish about putting their fingers up a boy's back hole. But after a few of the girls tried it and loved the way their actions made Tim gnash his teeth and struggle in his bonds, they all had to try it. Some of them accidentally found his prostate gland and teased it -- and Tim -- within an inch of erotic madness. The tour concluded with each girl tickling Tim's belly button and suckling on his hard brown nipples. The girls were all beaming; not a few of them looked aroused, despite their young age. "You all did very well," said Krissy. "Now we're going to have the birthday party. But so you don't get stains on your pretty swimsuits, why don't you all just skin out of them and we'll have our celebration in our birthday suits." The sound of that struck Tim's ears with a great deal of ambivalence. The mental image of a dozen naked young girls sporting around him made his blood warm, but the phrase "birthday party" also had some vague unpleasant connotations. Wasn't there a game called "pin the tail on the donkey"? He started to imagine blindfolded preteen girls using his tight asscheeks for a pincushion. Things were extreme enough all ready. Here he was, stark naked, trussed up and displayed with his legs wide open, his incredibly hard 13-year-old cock pulled toward the sky, his semen-bloated balls and quivering anus vulnerable to any careless or malicious act these females might perpetrate on him. In another minute all the girls were naked and gathered around Tim; they decided to use him as their table. But first off, there was the birthday cake. Giggling as her own inventiveness, she took a can of whipped cream and squirted it all around Tim's flat stomach, covering also his groin, including mountains of sugary fluff on his balls and penis. More cream trailed down between his legs to his anus. Soon he was one creamy, sticky mess from navel to tailbone. Additional squirts were applied to his nipples, his mouth and even his armpits. "Now, all we need is the candles. Don't know that we can find room for nine candles, and but I know we can find room for two," said Krissy. With that, she produced two candles, one a long dinner-style candle and the other a small, birthday-cake size. She took the longer one and inserted it in Tim's anus, rotating it a few times so that it penetrated four or five inches into his rectum, leaving another six inches showing above. The second narrow one was inserted into the piss-slit of his upthrust penis, tied so that it pointed straight up. It was this insertion that caused Tim to panic when he realized that birthday candles get lit! "No, god no!" he yelped. "Not in there! What if you burn my- -" His words were cut off my Aunt Becky, who quickly produced a handful of switches, and gave him 10 quick, sharp blasts to his backside. "If you lie still and shut up, you won't get your precious little prick hurt," she cautioned him. "But if you scream and thrash around, there's no telling what might happen. Accidentally, of course." So Tim shut up, sweating and tensed as the candles in his asshole and peehole were lit. The girls than began an agonizingly slow version of "Happy Birthday to You" as the helpless boy watched the flames burn down toward his anus and cockhead. Finally, the birthday girl, a cute little honey-blonde girl named Amy, leaned over and blew out the candle in his cock, then scooted over and blew out the one in his anus. But to Tim's surprise, she didn't remove them. "They look so cute where they are," she said. "Good idea!" said Krissy. "And later we can relight them if we want!" While Tim was considering that awful possibility, the girls started to eat the whipped cream off his body. A dozen delighted young moppets put their clever pink lickers to work on his teenage body. Slippery pink tongues slurped the sweet stuff from his erect nipples, taut stomach and muscular thighs. But they also lapped at the cream that coated his throbbing, engorged cock, in his humid, nasty anus, and all around his juicy plumb balls. The feeling of all those female mouths on his helpless naked body was sending Tim into a rictus of frustration. Tears were starting to squeeze out of his eyelids; he was in erotic agony. Finally, Aunt Becky --who had watched all this with a smile -- stepped in. "Say, how would you girls like to see Timmy here shoot some cream out of that big red hard thing between his legs?" The nymphets chorused their approval. They wanted to see the writhing youth spout off. "Amy, since you are the birthday girl, would you like to make the nasty boy make some milk?" asked Becky. The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "OK, here's what you do. See that plastic tied around his thingie? Take it off, honey. That's right. And take that candle out of his peehole. Then just sit between his legs and reach down and take his thingie in your hand. Make a nice tight, grip, and stroke up and down . . . . that's right . . .up and down!" The other girls were fascinated by the spectacle. It wasn't a minute into Amy's manipulations that Tim arched his back, gave out a feral groan and fired a huge, hot load of his semen up from his boiling prostate and testicles, out his straining cocktube and out the tip, the wet mass rocketing over his head to land several feet past on the grass. "Wow! Cool!" chorused the girls. Amy kept pumping, and more powerful jets of steaming male milk squirted out, this second wave landing just beyond his head. "My turn! My turn!" the girls yelled, and quickly they lined up to pump the hot stuff out of the helpless boy. The naked little girls, supplementing their hand-stroking with tickling and poking his balls, cock and anus led Tim through six spectacular orgasms. The ground around him was soaked with his sperm, and he'd also shot off a small lake of his cum onto his face, chest and neck. Tim was delirious with relief; his cum-locked nuts were finally able to clear some of the semen which had made them throb so painfully. The fact that a dozen little girls had raped his helpless nude body of all those cums was embarrassing especially when his lust abated a little bit and he saw them giggling and pointing at his cum-smeared body. "That was fun!" chirped one little girl. "Can I have him do that at my birthday party next month?" she asked. "Why, of course," said Aunt Becky. "Any of you who need to borrow Tim for some entertainment can do so anytime you want." Chapter Nine As the summer drew on, Katherine and Becky became both more creative and more thoughtful in their program of reforming the formerly thoughtless Tim. They rented him out to girls' and women's parties -- like a clown or an juggler would be rented -- but his duties were to be sexually exhibited, humiliated, used and punished. To keep some degree of anonymity, Tim was almost always blindfolded, but the rest of his body was uncovered. He was subjected to a staggering array of shameful degradations. Not only the usual activities --- being sodomized with strap-ons, tied up and teased with his cock and balls bound, being forced to eat the moist and humid pussies and asses of dozens of females from grade school to senior citizenship, being spanked on his butt, inner thighs, anus and testicles -- were conducted, but the females were always devising new ways to show Tim how powerless he truly was. One hot summer day they had an especially devilish idea. Tim usually wore at least a tiny jockstrap when working in the yard, which left him with a very sexy tanline that was a creamy swath around his hairless cock and balls. One day they made him do several hours of yard work totally naked. The result was a mild sunburn on his genitals, which turned into a teeth-grinding ordeal when the Waterman women all took turns hopping on his oh-so-sensitive cock, riding him for their own leisurely orgasms while the trussed-up boy with the burning dick had to endure. After they all got their climaxes, they took pity on him and rubbed soothing cream on his dick, but very slowly and teasingly, and he was not allowed to squirt. Young girls and old ladies loved to see him cum; he was made to masturbate repeatedly at some shows, and was punished harshly when unable to maintain an erection after -- usually -- seven or eight orgasms. Those groups preferred the cum shows because they had either never yet seen a boy squirt, or hadn't seen it in many years. "Soccer mom" types preferred to see him teased and denied; they loved seeing him grunt and grit his teeth as his jerking, swollen cock was stimulated and not allowed to spurt. The presence in their own homes of growing young boys with their own penises hanging between their legs somehow made Tim's agonized sexual bondage more appealing; many a woman attending one of these parties began -- consciously or unconsciously -- teasing their young sons with tighter, more revealing clothing and "accidental" dropping of towels and opening of robes. Barging in on young boys when they were in the bathroom or in their rooms with the doors closed was especially prized, especially if they could catch the boy with an erection or in the middle of masturbation. The Waterman women, being basically sexy ladies, made more and more sexual use of the boy, under the cover of "discipline" and punishment for past offenses. To teach him "self-control," the sisters would put a vibrator up Tim's anus, cinch up his cock and balls and climb on top of him. Busty red-headed Donna, and long-limbed Leslie would take turns riding him while naked, rubbing their firm, swollen tits and nipples against his chest and tightening their silky pussies around his helplessly stiff erection. They would chat with each other as they did this, never speaking to Tim; treating him as if he was merely a piece of furniture they used for their amusement. Becky and Katherine took long baths in which Tim -- his restrained genitals throbbing and bobbing -- had to be the attendant. He soaped up their naked, lush bodies and washed every orifice both with his hands and -- when required -- with his mouth. Many was the time when Kate was on her hands and knees, moaning and writhing with the superfrustrated young boy crouched behind her, pushing his now-experienced tongue deeply into his own mother's thrilled cunt. When Tim was pushed to a level of sexual arousal so strong that the aching in his groin almost incapacitated him, the women came up with clever responses. They found a rubberized bathing suit and made Tim pull it on; into the suit they poured ice cold water. The suit's legholes were so snug that little dripped out; the poor boy's hot nuts and denied boner did get a soothing "cold shower," but after a short while the chilly water brought a different kind of discomfort, and the boy was begging to be allowed to pull down his pants and release his sexual organs from their frigid prison. As June turned into July and August neared, it was decided that the program should include an educational component. Becky got a hold of copies of the eighth-grade curriculum and textbooks for classes that Tim would be taking in the fall, and started to "drill" him in English, math, history, science, etc. The instruction took place under somewhat unconventional circumstances. The naked youth was positioned on a hard- backed chair with a vibrator jammed five inches up his anus and rectum. The vibrator had a long cord attached to a control device held by his "tutor." As usual, a cock ring was snugged around his perpetual erection, and the female attending him was dressed to arouse -- if she was dressed at all. If Tim answered a question correctly, he would not be punished. If he answered incorrectly, the tutor would turn up the vibration speed on the device raping his asshole, and he would quiver with stimulation checked by frustration. Failing a quiz meant five sharp hand slaps on his wiggling boner. Failing a review of material he had already "mastered" brought 10 sharp strokes on his wide-spread anus with a leather thong. Successfully completing the course laid out for him meant he would be allowed to relieve the ache in his nuts. He would stand up in front of the whole "family" and stroke himself off. The look of relief and pleasure on his face as he spurted out a thick, heavy load of superheated teenage semen made the women grin. In a strange way, they felt they were actually helping the boy. As it turns out, they were. By the end of August, Tim had learned the whole eighth-grade curriculum. He could discourse on the separation of powers in the Constitution, work out polynomials in his head, and make an intelligent pronouncement on the matter of global warming. His backyard activities left him tanned, lean and hard- bodied; his punishment seemed to develop both his maturity level and his sexuality. With September looming ahead, the Waterman woman saw a new man in the once-wayward boy. No longer impulsive and self-centered, rude or pushy, he was now the soul of deference and politeness. But the activities of the summer had not made him cringe; he came through his torments somehow stronger and more confident; what could the world dish out to him that his females relatives had not? How could a junior high school math test or a dance or a basketball game daunt a boy who's been through what Tim had? Chapter 10 Aunt Becky and her daughters Donna and Leslie liked the neighborhood so much that they rented a house down the street from the Watermans, planning on moving out a day before Elliot was to return. The visiting relatives had a "farewell" session with Tim, hanging him blindfolded by his arms and legs from the sturdy limb of a backyard tree, his limbs spread wide and facing skyward. The Waterman women invited all their summer "discipline friends" to visit and they performed every type of perverse act on him, from a simple spanking and strap-on sodomizing to more exotic forms like spreading "itching cream" on his poor balls and cock, and giggling and pointing for five minutes while he groaned and cried out and writhed. They finally turned the backyard hose on him, making sure the full blast of the hose slapped him between his legs front and back. But Elliot surprised everyone. He came home two days early, and was not alone. With him were two friends: another geologist he'd met overseas whom he'd invited to spend a few months at the Waterman home. Along with the geologist was his 15-year-old son. They crept quietly into the Waterman home at 1 a.m., when everyone was asleep. The three of them quickly spread out and each pounced on a sleeping female. Tim was also part of this commando raid, grabbing a groggy Becky and handcuffing and gagging her before dragging her into the family living room where Katherine, Donna and Leslie were already kneeling and gagged in their nightclothes. The woman looked up in terror as the males stood over them in the half-light of the moon shining through a window. Elliot smiled and started to unbuckle his pants. "Tim here finally decided a few weeks ago that enough was enough. And you really shouldn't have left digital pictures of what you did to Tim where he could get to them and e-mail the evidence to me," said the father, folding the belt into a doubled whip. "I wouldn't have believed it, especially of Tim's own mother, but I decided that the best way to handle this is payback. First we're going to strip off all your clothes and spank your butts with our belts until you cry your eyes out and your asses are red as a beet. Then we're going to fuck your shitters and shoot our hot cum deep in your buttholes," he said. "And then we'll really start six months of evening things out for what you did to Tim." The women's eyes looked panicked; they could only imagine what four horny, hard-cocked men and boys could do to them, especially when they held evidence that could send them to prison for life for sexual molestation and more. They were trapped, and they knew it. Donna and Leslie were already starting to cry. "Of course, maybe I should put this to a vote. Any objections to us raping and abusing and sexually humiliating you ladies for the next half-year? No objections?" he said of the gagged, cuffed women, who could neither speak nor raise their hands. "Well, I guess my proposal wins. Majority rules, after all." The End.