She disappeared up the stairs.
I returned to John, who had never ceased his act of contrition.
“Shut up. You’re making me sick.” I kicked him in the leg.
“Don’t hurt me. You don’t have to hit me. I’ll do what you want.” He whined.
I kicked him again. In the hipbone, where it would hurt, and close enough to his crotch to make him flinch badly. “Wrong. I want to hurt you. I like to hurt you. The only reason I haven’t hurt you worse is because I don’t want Debbie to see. Now that she’s gone, we can play a little. You better hope she packs fast.” He was lying there, bare-assed, pants around his ankles, in his own waste. I know he was on the verge of crying, from the way his face was screwed up. Time to continue my campaign of terror.
“You know John, I was thinking of a way to convince me that you’d leave Debbie alone.” I dropped to one knee beside him, speaking softly.
“Whatever, man. I swear.” The snot running down his face was not a pretty sight.
“The way I figure it, if I were to neuter you, well you’d have no reason to chase girls, and Debbie would be safe. What do you think?” I had my blade out and was waving it around his privates, which were shriveled up as if he’d just gotten out of a pool. He tried to back away.
“God, no! I SWEAR. Please.” He was trying to wriggle away, digging his heals into the carpet and inching along.
I’d almost forgotten one of the items I’d brought along. I pulled out my digital camera, and started snapping some shots, concentrating on his privates. “Smile. Before and after pictures, you know.”
“Don’t. Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’M SORRY!” he was crying.
That was when inspiration struck.
Ok, what I did next was wrong. I know that. But I was really angry. I’m sure you can understand that. And I figured that maybe there was something I could do to really slam the door on this one, and get a little revenge for Debbie, ‘in-kind’.
I grabbed John by the back of his shirt and he started to scream. I punched him in the head a few times, to shut him up. Not a particularly good idea, the head is way too hard, and I hurt my hand a bit. I decided to just kick him in the future, which seemed to work just fine. I dumped him at the feet of his buddy, Dale. I pulled out my knife and cut his wrists free from the zip-tie. The knife drew a bit of blood, but nothing serious. He lay there rubbing his wrists.
“Move an inch, and I’ll use another tie to zip your hands and balls together, and leave you that way until your balls fall off.”
I grabbed my duct tape, and went to Dale. “I bet your hands hurt pretty bad right now.”
He nodded. I guess he was still taking my ‘underwear’ threat pretty seriously.
I reached around him, careful in case he had any ideas about kicking out at me. I cut his hands free; they were almost purple from lack of circulation. I allowed him a moment to rub the circulation back into them. Then I had him extend his arms out to his sides, fully, and duct taped them to the railing. One arm had to be raised above his head, making him look like he was pointing upstairs. I smiled.
“Ok John. Here’s the deal. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make Dale cum in your mouth. Do that for me, and I’ll believe you really don’t care for girls that much, and maybe we can end this.”
John cringed, “Fuck, man! I’m no fag!”
Dale started to talk, and I just turned and looked at him, cold. He shut up.
I turned back to John. “Oh, but you’re wrong. You are! And if you can convince me of that, why then I don’t have to kill or neuter you. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“You’re full of shit man.” He was feeling brave. That was bad.
“Ok. You’re choice. Put your hands together and hold them out.” I instructed him, reaching in my pocket for another zip tie.
“Couldn’t you use the tape?” he begged, holding his hands out to me.
“Not if I’m going to tie them to your balls.” I smirked, reaching for him.
He pulled away, leaning back. I kicked him in the chest, then kicked him about the head while he tried to cover up.
“Stop, stop,” he was crying, his elbows covering his face, trying to hold his hands out to me.
“Don’t you fucking pull away from me, or I’ll have to just kill you, and then I have to kill your friend. Don’t make me do that, dick-face.” I kicked him again for good measure.
“I… I’ll do it.” He moaned.
“Do what?”
“I’ll make him cum.” He whispered, barely audible.
“Good.” I pulled him to his knees by one wrist, and dragged him upright. I took his one wrist, and making a rope of duct tape, tied him to the railing on the steps going down from where Dale was tied.
“Entertain me.” I pulled up a chair to one side, sitting about five feet away, my bat in my hand, slapping the meat of the bat gently into my open palm. Smack. Smack. Smack.
John never looked up. He took Dale’s belt in his free hand, and worked it open. He pulled the pants open, unbuttoning and unzipping them. He tugged them down a short ways.
“Down around his ankles please. Give yourself some room to work over there.” I directed.
With a series of alternating tugs, he pulled them down below the knees.
Dale’s shorts were bulging. It looked like someone was more than a little interested in what was going on. John was hesitating now, with the full briefs staring him in the face.
“Go on. Don’t make me get up, John.”
He tried to pull the shorts down from the side, but the waistband got caught up on Dale’s package. He had to reach up, and free the waistband, pulling the underwear down from the front. Dale’s semi-hard cock flopped out, bouncing. John pulled back. Then he looked over at me with fear in his eyes, and reaching across, worked the briefs down below Dale’s knees.
“Good.” I encouraged.
John’s head drooped to the side, and he looked down at the ground. His free hand found it’s way to Dale’s erection, and gripped it. He started to slide his hand up and down, about half of its length.
“John, John, John. I know you can do better than that,” I chastened.