Chapter 10: Forced Orgasm
Bruce’s Overture
As Tammy drives us home, the joviality continues. Everyone is recounting the events that had just transpired. It seems everyone has their own favorite scene, and each would describe it at length, to the amusement of all.
While this is going on, to my dismay Bruce has moved his hands from my knees to the tops of my thighs. When I feel his hands move to the insides of my thighs I reach for them with my hands to pull them off. Bruce catches my wrists and lifts them up until my arms are stretched upwards and the palms of my hands are flat against the ceiling of the car.
“Leave your hands there and don't move them again, Blondie,” Bruce says, with his mouth up against my right ear.
I know better than to disobey him as I brace myself for another humiliation. Bruce strums his fingers around my nipples, down my sides, then puts both hands on the insides of my knees, and with his fingertips he starts caressing my inner thighs. As his strokes near my groin, I involuntarily flinch, slightly lifting off Bruce’s lap. Bruce whispers in my ear again.
“You like that, don’t you, Blondie?”
I shake my head, hoping he will stop. Everyone else is still carrying on about the exhibition at the high school, so they’re yet unaware of Bruce’s advances.
He continues stroking my thighs. Then he ever so softly tickles my balls, running his fingertips and thumb back and forth, stimulating the entire sac. My shoulders contract to a shrugging position, and to my utter horror I feel myself becoming aroused yet again. I fight against the feeling with all my might. But I can't suppress it, even as repulsive as my situation is. Thanks to Bruce’s continual foreplay, my level of excitement escalates. He strokes the underside of my penis a couple of times, and in a matter of moments I become fully erect. Inevitably, someone notices.
“Hey, check it out, Smoothie’s got a little stiffy again!” squeals Donna, while pointing between my legs.
The shrieks of surprise and laughter ring throughout the car. Bruce pulls his hands away momentarily so everyone can have a good look at my erection. My face burns yet brighter.
I’m going through very conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I’m thoroughly humiliated to be naked in a car and brought to a state of sexual excitement—by a guy, no less, and in front of nine other people. On the other hand, Bruce really knows what he's doing, and I’m starting to get lost in the overpowering sensation.
Bruce continues his relentless assault on my sensitivities. He toys with me, stroking my inner thighs, my balls, and occasionally brushing my now-throbbing penis. The other passengers are engrossed in the display as I sit there vulnerably, at the whims of Bruce’s touch and my involuntary arousal.
“I think Bruce has found himself a little boyfriend,” I hear someone say.
While the laughter continues, Bruce puts his mouth to my ear. “Tell me how good it feels, Blondie.” I remain silent and Bruce squeezes my balls lightly, but hard enough to get my attention. “Tell me,” he repeats. “Say, ‘Ooh, that feels really good.’”
“Ooh, that feels really good,” I say out loud. This brings on hoots and hollers from the unbelieving spectators.
“Say, ‘Oh God, I love the way you touch me, Bruce,’” he whispers to me while continuing to stroke my inner thighs and balls.
I grudgingly repeat his words, to more laughter. “Oh God, I love the way you touch me, Bruce.”
“Say, ‘I love being naked around you,’” he whispers.
I swallow hard and take a deep breath. “I love.…I l-love being naked around you.”
“But I’m so embarrassed that Tammy and Donna are staring at my hairless little weenie.” I open my mouth but nothing comes out. “Say it,” presses Bruce while gently squeezing my balls.
“I’m so embarrassed that.…that Tammy and Donna are staring at my…my…at my hairless little weenie.” I couldn’t help but to look up at the two girls, who are both laughing hysterically—and yes, they are staring at my hairless little weenie.
After the laughter dies down, he continues his tormenting. “Say, ‘I want to be your sex slave, Bruce.” I hesitate, and again he squeezes my balls, this time with a little more vigor.
“I—I want to be your sex slave, Bruce,” I relent.
“Louder, Blondie,” he whispers in my ear. “Shout it out.”
“I want to be your sex slave, Bruce!” I yell.
The laughter increases, as does my state of sexual excitement, as Bruce continues fondling me.
“Good boy. Now tell me to make you come.”
“Make me come,” I say.
“Say please,” Bruce prompts. He strokes my penis lightly with his fingertips.
“Please.” The anguish in my voice is evident.
“Say ‘Oh, Bruce, please make me come!’ Yell it out.”
He now has his hand lightly wrapped around my penis and I begin pumping my hips back and forth, desperately seeking relief. “Oh, Bruce, please make me come!” I scream this out, now with a fair amount of sincerity.
Sexual Frenzy
The group is now spellbound by the exhibition being put on. I’m on the verge of orgasm and somehow Bruce senses this and loosens his grip. I continue driving my hips back and forth until I realize I’m pumping at thin air. Completely frustrated, I settle back down on Bruce’s lap. When I do, I feel the unmistakable bulge in his pants. Bruce takes advantage of my weight and rotates his hips, and I feel his protrusion rubbing against my backside. He is now stroking my balls, maintaining my level of sexual pleasure. He gradually raises his caresses, inching towards my undersized but rock-hard penis. When I feel his fingers on my cock I become vocal without prompting.
“Please, let me come,” I moan.
He wraps his hand around my penis lightly and I pump my hips, more furiously this time.
“Whoa!” somebody cries out in amazement. “Blondie’s really into it!”
Once again, to my utter frustration, Bruce lets go and I collapse on his lap.
“Oh God, please, I can’t take it anymore!” I implore.
I need to explode so badly that I ache. Bruce is silent. He continues stroking my entire body, strategically avoiding my genitals that crave attention. The height of my sexual heat he has kindled is nearly unbearable. I try to take matters into my own hands, but he catches my right wrist and quickly puts it back up against the ceiling.
“Uh-uh-
uh,” he admonishes. “Keep your hands right where they are.”
Bruce continues his relentless teasing. As he strokes my inner thighs my whole body is moving about in a state of sexual frenzy. The group in the car is dead silent now, agape as they look on in fascination. They can’t quite believe what they’re seeing, and I’m sure the visual will remain with them forever. I’m fully aware of their attention, but my need for fulfillment has taken priority over anything else.
Bruce then raises his right hand in the air, about a foot above my genitals. He cups his fingers, creating a canal with his hand. Taking the cue, I immediately raise my torso to his waiting hand. To achieve this most awkward position my head is now upside down on Bruce’s lap and I’m supporting myself by putting my hands and feet on the seat; my body is forming an inverted U, facing the ceiling of the car. My hips are raised up as high as I can get them. I hear the giggling from the fellow passengers and am fully aware of how outrageous this scene must appear to them. But I have one objective in mind, and I know what I must do.
My aggressor cups his hand around my erect penis. “Go ahead, Blondie, fuck my hand,” he says.
I need no further prompting. While he holds his hand still, I wildly pump my hips up and down. I see the flash from Donna’s camera but don’t let it distract me. I’m just about to climax, and once again Bruce lets go of my penis. Agonized to the max, I continue pumping my hips in midair, desperately hoping to feel his grip again. Bruce lowers his mouth down to my ear. “I want to hear you beg for it, Blondie.”
“Oh, please, Bruce, please, let me come!” I shriek. “Please, Bruce, I’m begging you!” I stop rocking my hips but maintain my position. Bruce waits another twenty seconds or so while everybody waits with bated breath. I beg some more. “Please, Bruce, I need to come! Please make me come! Oh, please!” Then I feel his hand around my cock again, this time with a bit more pressure. I feverishly pump my hips. This time he doesn’t let go. I reach a state of ecstasy, the likes of which I’ve never felt before. “Ohhhhhhhh!” I moan as my body convulses wildly as a wave of sexual gratification sweeps over me. Because I was prepubescent there was no ejaculate, but it was quite evident to all that I was in the throes of (coerced) sexual bliss. I continue pumping Bruce’s hand until I am completely satisfied.
When I'm done Bruce releases my cock and I slump back down in his lap, now totally spent. I feel dampness from the protrusion in Bruce’s pants. I clench my eyes shut as I realize that the motion from my head on his lap has brought him to orgasm. For the second time that day, I’ve played an reluctant role in the sexual gratification my tormentor.
“Simultaneous orgasm, Blondie,” grins Bruce. “Isn’t that awesome?”
He has rested his hands on my upper thighs. As I sit there and slowly recover from my sexually gratifying but profoundly mortifying orgasm, the reality of what has transpired starts setting in. My humiliation is complete, and seemingly there is nothing else imaginable that they can do to me to further it.
The car is relatively silent the rest of the way as everyone is apparently drained from the day’s extraordinary activities. We pull into the driveway and start filing out. As we walk to the front door I cover myself with my hands. Curiously, even after all I’ve been through, I’m still self-conscious about my nudity.
Everyone goes into the living room and plops down on the nearest vacant seat. I sit on the edge of the couch.
“Can somebody please give me my clothes now?” I ask feebly.
Taking a cue from Bruce, one of the guys gets up and returns momentarily with my long-lost clothes. I don’t see my underpants and recall the dreadful memory of seeing them flying by the window of the station wagon hours before, though it felt like a different lifetime ago.
I quickly pull on my pants, a feeling that is practically foreign.
The Pictures
As I continue getting dressed, Bruce is holding up Donna's phone, apparently going through the pictures of me. Everyone is standing behind him as he rolls through them, and the gaiety picks up again as they relive the incredible events of the day.
I finish dressing, and Bruce says to me, "I just emailed you a few souvenirs, Blondie. I think you're going to like them."
I say nothing and shudder as I mentally visualize what some of the pictures must portray. As I head towards the door everyone calls out, “Bye Blondie!”
I don’t look back until Bruce yells, “Hey Blondie!” When I stop at the door and look back at him he says, “Thanks,” and purses his lips as if to kiss me.
I show no reaction and turn to walk out the door. As I exit I hear his parting shot. “What say you and I get together for a private party real soon, just you and me?” I ignore him and keep walking. “I'll get you naked again and you can use your cute little
mouth to get me off next time.” I cringe at the repulsive mental image and break into a trot. The sound of his laughter gradually fades, and I don’t stop running until he is completely out of earshot.
On my way home I can’t stop myself from pulling my phone out. I open my e-mail account and see the subject matter: "Naked." There are several attachments. All of them are pictures of me naked in the middle of some sort of humiliation. The first one I see is of me from the back, running during the Fire Drill. I quickly go to the next picture, which is a frontal view of me standing in a field, holding a Frisbee high above my head. The next one is taken from inside the station wagon. It’s a side shot of me standing on the hood. In the background you can see the high school students lining the sidewalk, all of them wide-eyed and agape, grinning freely. I quickly go through the rest of the pictures, difficult as it is for me. I put the phone back in my pocket, making a mental note to delete the email when I get home. But of course I know the pictures are out there and there is nothing I can do about that. My only hope is that the pictures are not shared with anyone else, that they remain strictly with my fiendish friends.
Little do I know the high price I will have to pay for this hope to become a reality.
Epilogue
For the rest of Spring Break I pretty much stay within the confines of my room, trying to mentally recover from the devastating ordeal I have experienced. I feel a little better as each day passes, although I know it will be a long time, if ever, before I fully get over the trauma.
Friday morning I get out of the shower and decide to face the day. I get dressed and go downstairs, ready to venture outside. I pick up my phone and, much to my apprehension there is an email from Bruce. In the subject box is written "To My Naked Slave."
I cringe as I reluctantly open it up. Attached are three pictures. One is a close-up of my prepubescent genitals. Another is a full body shot of me holding the Frisbee high over my head, and the third is a shot of me and my four-inch hard-on. My mouth is wide open and my eyes are clenched shut—the classic expression of someone in the throes of orgasm.
In the text of the message, Bruce writes that he is pretty sure I wouldn’t want any of the pictures to be sent to my sister and her friends. His parents will be out of town for a while, and he is hoping I could come over tonight and spend the long three-day weekend with him. He says I "owe him" for jacking me off in the car the other day and that he has some wonderful ideas on how I can repay him. His sister and her best friend will be at the house, but he doesn't expect them to get in our way all that much.
He goes on to say that he has derived considerable pleasure throughout the week with the visual aid of the attached pictures, and that he thinks it will be much more enjoyable if I can assist him with his pleasure “in the flesh.” He adds that the pun is intended.
Also included in the email are the phrases “private nudie shows,” “sensuous lap dances,” "naked videos," and “cute little sex slave.”
I am given explicit instructions: I am to borrow one of my sister's bras and a pair of her panties. It should be a matching set, and he says I would look adorable in pink and sexy in black. He also says "virgin white" would be appropriate for me, but if I choose white it should have lots of lace. If my sister doesn't own a set in any of those three colors then I would have to purchase my own. I am to put them on under my regular clothes before walking the three blocks to his house.
When I arrive at his house (at precisely 6 p.m.) I will see an empty bin out by the sidewalk. I am to take off all of my boy clothes (including shoes and socks) and deposit them in the bin, since I won't be needing them anymore. I am to clasp my hands behind my head and walk very slowly down the long walkway. He says the three of them will be enjoying the scene from an upstairs window, and that there is a slight chance that his next door neighbor would see me if she happens to be near her window, but that she is a nice lady and most certainly would be entertained by the spectacle.
He says not to worry about the dog, that she won't bite but will probably sniff my crotch while I walk, and that I'm to make sure my hands remain clasped behind my head until I reach the door.
I'm to ring the doorbell, and the two girls will answer. Maybe not right away, but wait patiently; they will eventually be there. Evidently he has shown his sister and her friend the pictures and he says they are big fans of mine. They can't wait to meet me in person and are very much looking forward to capturing a video of me dancing naked for them, and that they'll be sure to share the video with me. They think it will be quite amusing to watch my "hairless little pee-pee" jiggling around when we watch the video later that weekend on their big screen, and that watching in slow motion mode would be quite entertaining.
They promise to leave us two "lovebirds" alone for the night after I dance around in my bra and panties for awhile, perform a striptease, then dance naked for them. He says that it goes without saying that once the girls have the video in hand that I will be at their mercy forever, and that knowing them they will not hesitate to take full advantage of their newfound leverage over me and will make me cater to their devious whims whenever they please. He says that when he told them how Donna and Tammy played with my penis they got excited and said they couldn't wait to do the same, and that they were looking forward to seeing my cute little hard-on and playing with it. He says they might even make me come, or instead they might have me jack off while I'm dancing for them. In any case I can expect the girls to have their way with me for the foreseeable future.
He added that I shouldn't worry, that he would only allow this to happen on days I wasn't busy entertaining him, and that when we all get together we can work out a fair schedule.
Bruce says that after my performance I'm to spend the rest of the weekend in the nude, and that the three of them would be delighted if I could cook and serve their meals. He says the girls have never had a naked boy serve them before, and that they were very excited and giggly when they came up with the idea. They told Bruce to tell me not to fret, that I won't have to be
completely naked since they have a pretty, frilly maid's cap for me to wear while serving them. He adds that he is getting hard just imagining the visual, and that when he finishes writing this email he will probably pleasure himself while fantasizing about my naked servitude.
Finally, he says he is especially looking forward to teaching me the fine art of administering the perfect blow job after I get him all horny with my sexy, naked dances. He is quite graphic, saying he is certain that he can show me how to use my mouth and tongue just the right way, that I can start by licking and sucking his balls until he is "really worked up." Then he'll teach me how to "lick his cock all over," how to caress it with kisses from my "sensuous lips," and how my "cute little mouth" will envelop his "throbbing love tool." Yes, he actually wrote that.
He'll also show me how to lovingly stroke his balls with my "dancing fingers" while I'm busy sucking his cock. For the grand finale, he knows I will really enjoy swallowing his "love juices" when I bring him to a screaming orgasm.
Though I am positively revolted by the whole scenario, suffice it to say that I would probably do just about anything to keep those pictures from going public.
End
