Saturday, July 6, 2013

It Takes a Village Part 2

Part 1
Part 3

They barge in, unstoppable at this point and start to mill around the kitchen, putting on their cocks, making sandwiches and drinking lemonade. Now I’m entertaining, I think. Great. They start discretely rubbing themselves and talking about previous exploits (all stories we have heard and told many times) while listening to the howling of Timmy upstairs, still strung from the ceiling, his shoulders and back searing from keeping himself up and breathing, eyes bloodshot, snot pooling. I had fitted him with a chastity device while we were waiting (knowing the fucking Angela would bring the ladies and that the ladies wouldn’t bear an unsecured cock) and started fingering him in the vain hope that he wouldn’t be totally ruined by the experience to come.

We have a little talk about Isabel and Ella agrees to go next door and wait for Bill to get home so that he will not be alarmed about Timmy’s absence. No doubt the maid costume would be involved. This left us two hours to have our fun with Tim.

We go upstairs and Tim is panicking against his bindings. “It hurts it hurts it hurts” he is saying and squirming and the tension is visible all through his body. I rush in and lift up his head so that it is above his heart for a little while, which eases the panic. I brush his hair and his eyes close briefly, but snap open when Marcy starts playing with his ballsack, pulling the skin over the hard plastic chastity tube. He moans, confused, uncomfortable. Marcy journeys a little lower and starts fingering around his butthole and, feeling the lube I left behind, tries to push her way inside. I lower his head back down so that she can get a better angle and he starts to cry a little. He has seen the women and if he doesn’t totally comprehend the situation, the cocks certainly look ominous. He starts swinging around again, struggling and the women surround him. Sandy grabs him by the head and pulls him up to her, under the cock and big plastic balls, back between her legs and under her ass. “Wait,” she says, slapping his chest. “Hit that note again. You’re making my pussy vibrate.” After a moment she laughs and the room laughs, and everyone gets a little more comfortable.

Angela tires of the foreplay and describes to us what she wants while Tim’s head is secured between Amy’s powerful legs. She’s a biker and it pays off. Amy goes home to grab a pair of her daughter’s heels, the nearest that there will be heels small enough for his boyish feet, and Marcy starts playing with his ass again. “I like asses,” she says, “I’m an ass girl“ and giggles. “I like the way they…” she says, hesitating and then, “squirm,” she says as she jabs his prostate. The boy is mewling like a cat so Sandy decides to muzzle him. Someone brought the goodie bag from the Shandra Fawn collection demonstration the other week.

Sandy produces a gag with a 3’ dildo and a 6’ dildo of either side. “Which side goes in him,” she asked the crowd. The girls all look eye to eye, afraid to say something stupid.

Marcy asks, “What do the directions say?”

Angela says, “We don’t need directions. Hasn’t any ever gagged a boy before?”

No one had ever gagged a boy before.

“Well you obviously use the 6’ end in him. That way he’s embarrassed by his little 3’ dick-face.” The crowd nodded at the logic of it and proceeded to wrestle the gag down into Timmy’s gullet and strap it home. He gagged and wretched, but nothing seemed to come of it.

Amy re-entered the room, purple heels in hand, and we strapped them to Timmy’s still bound feet, strapping the plastic thongs between his toes. The heels were about 8’ tall, about tall enough to bring his hips near to Angela’s. As we lowered and unbound him, Amy said, “Hannie’s going to be so turned on when she hears what we used those heels for.”

I pulled her shoulders and looked in her eyes, saying “you cannot tell her. No tales of this. I thought I was clear. No one can know about this because it will get back to Isabel. She’s a lawyer for christs sakes. Come on, guys. I invited you into my house. You could do me this courtesy.”

Amy murmmered “I forgot.”

“Well don’t.”

Timmy shakily gets to his feet like a baby bird or maybe a giraffe, lightheaded and unstable on the high heels. “Walk over here,” says Angela, adjusting her strap-on, getting out the lube. He trips and falls to the ground, yelping in pain. “Come here, little bird,” says Angela, staying put, watching him get to his feet again. His eyes are bloodshot and I feel a real moment of compassion for him until his falls a second time, which just pisses us off. The laughing stops.

“Up. Now.”

Timmy struggles to get his feet under him. The carpet is uneven but it breaks his falls. His skirt is too short. Every time he stands he shows his ass and caged pupil to everyone. He stands on shaky feet and with his first step falls again.

“Aaarg!” Angela flies into a rage, falling on him like a bird of prey. She spares no kindness as she fills his shallow body with her thrusting rage and he screams through the gag, red face pressed to the carpet. She fucks him in and out, powerful hips rising up and thrusting down into the carpet, thick hips designed for carrying children and carrying weight. Thick hips driven by anger and horny desire. The little cock gag bobs preposterous on the carpet as his strained body inches across the floor with each hump. She fucks him in hard, vicious pushes, jamming her tool deeper and deeper into his guts. After a while, she reaches down and pulls his hips up at an easier angle, eliciting a fresh urgency to his screams, reaching deeper into his body.

Sandy, Amy and I watch with excitement but Marcy, ever the opportunist, gets down and straddles Tim’s head with her legs. She pulls his face, red with pain and passion and rugburn, off of the floor and rests it on the pubic mons, enjoying the undulations of Angela’s thrusting and the lost, agonized look in his eyes. His vocal chords vibrated pleasingly against her as he screamed and struggled for air. She swept the hair out of his eyes and watched with mock empathy as he shook. By now Angela was really getting into it and less than fucking him she was rubbing against the dildo, forcing it as far into him as possible. She tucked her arms under his shoulders, across Marcy’s soft thighs, and pulled his body up into hers. He writhed with agony, working the dildo just enough that Angela came, releasing her prey and her tension, but after a moment of twitching, fucking him again, harder and harder. With one more push she was cumming even harder and Timmy shrieked and shrieked.

After it was over, she lay, still lodged in his guts, and whispered just loud enough for the room to hear, “You did a good job with my dick. You’re going to enjoy the other ones less. Mine is average for normal, well grown males- about 8 inches and 3 in diameter. Sandy other there has a 12-inch dick and I can’t even imagine what Amy’s packing. So you should enjoy this dick in you while you can.”

Marcy giggled, his soft flesh jiggling as she kindly and softly played with Timmy’s hair. Angela, her body totally covering and encompassing Timmy’s small frame, gave him a breathy kiss on the ear and in one swift, cruel motion, pulled her cock from its resting place.

Something strange happened. Timmy, who had been screaming so much, shook and balked, writhing on the floor. But this wasn’t pain- Marcy could see it in his eyes. This was something else. Sure enough, when I look underneath his shaking body, there was a dampness in the carpet that could only mean one thing. “He’s a slut,” I said.

The realization dawned over the group. This was no longer just for them. They have a genuine, self-born slut on their hands. Any boy who is willing to give up his cum through the bars of his chastity cage just because his woman fucks him is obviously born to be fucked and should be treated as that. Angela got a glint in her eye. “Well I thought I was done, but maybe there’s more life in him yet.”

Marcy grabbed him by the little dick gag to anchor his face and rode into him harder, her wetness starting to soak her panties. She moaned in a childish, sing-song voice, “you made a big mistake.”

“You’ve had enough,” hissed Amy, “and you too,” she said to Marcy. “Stop being greedy. You’re all greedy,” she rubbed herself as she said it, feeling a little greedy herself.

Sandy interrupted, “No, let me go next!”

I tried to step in with a ‘what the fuck is going on, this is my boy and you fuckers are having all my fun,' but there was no way to be heard. Each woman thought herself most entitled to the aching asshole and Timmy whimpered in fear listening to their discussion of the depraved acts they wanted to try, all while choking on the dildo and rubbing against Marcy’s hungry lips. Her slight pulling on the tightly anchored gag agitated his throat and made him freshly aware of his ongoing fuckeditude.

So Sandy stepped forward, waving her veiny black dildo around like a gun, like it would scare any one of us. Timmy couldn’t even see it he was so lost in Marcy’s sensual rubbing, her wetness soaking into his chin. Sandy gets behind him and starts rubbing lube up and down the beast, and lowers it to his puckered hole. Timmy makes a “huh?” noise that starts the room giggling.

“He’s a virgin,” I cry out, suddenly realizing the enormity of the situation. “He’s never been stretched before.”

Sandy just smiles at me sardonically, saying “It’s much too late for that now, don’t you think?” and leans, no, steps into him, ramming her cock as hard and deep into him as she possibly can. His screaming echoes the room even through that brutal gag. He squirms and crawls, trying desperately to ease the dildo out of his ass. Sandy grabs his hands, lowering her weight onto him, trapping him with her flesh and says, “now stop all the struggling. You’re mine now so you should just relax. It’s going to hurt, but there’s nothing you can do about it. So be a good boy and stay right here.”

But of course, how can he? So as soon as she lets up and starts humping him what little the dildo can move, he starts crawling and squirming, cock dragging along the carpet. Marcy is, of course, none too pleased with the break in her little wonderland and decides to get down to business. She pulls off the soaked panties and starts to ease the tiny mouth dildo into herself. She grabs Timmy by the red, sweaty ears and says, “Stop all that moving around. I want your face now,” but again, how can the kid be anything but a bundle of nerves and animal instinct at this point? She starts riding his face but she has to grab the back of his head to control him enough. The dildo is small but the flesh is willing and she starts grinding his face so hard that his nose disappears into her fluffy mound for minutes at a time. I don’t become concerned until I start to see his tortured arm and leg movements become erratic and sporadic and the shakes go through his frame. Sandy doesn’t notice because she can only think about her hips and his hips and Marcy is barely sentient at the best of times.

I did what I had to do. I pushed Marcy down flat and finished her off with my hand on her clit. Timmy started up with the grunting and crying, so I knew that the air was back in his lungs. Marcy tried to fight me, the dear, but I kept one hand on her chest and the other on her clit and forced her to cum, legs wrapped tightly around Timmy’s head and back, hips thrusting wildly, muscles squeezing, firing at random, until she came, her body writhing and shaking in my hands. 

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