Josh : 01 - Fiendish Friend (M/M)

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Josh : 01 - Fiendish Friend (M/M)

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Josh's stories
01 - Fiendish Friend
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By Josh

Saturday, February 10th 2001 - 09:45:02 AM

Fiendish Friend

I'm not sure if this story is appropriate for this site but it's true and involves a totally unexpected tie-up game. What may make it inappropriate is that though it happened over ten years ago, I was 22 and, though I'm straight, it involved another male (also straight, as far as I know). This is not the first nor last time something strange of this nature has happened to me.

After college I'd moved into an old farm house off of the highway with two friends. It sat on several acres of dead, overgrown grass so it was rather secluded. The place was a find so I was always eager to show it off. On a Saturday afternoon in July, I invited a co-worker from the bookstore where I worked to come over for a few beers after we got off. Though I did not know him well and often annoyed me with his pretension, I thought it would be a nice gesture. Though he was only 30, at the time he seemed "old." He was a portly man with a shaggy beard and generic presentation. Because of his smug and intellectual demeanor, he had few friends and seemed to keep mostly to himself, from what I could tell. But, again, it was a sunny, summer afternoon so I felt benevolent enough to hang out with him that day, especially since my two roommates were both away for the weekend and therefor, making the awkward situation of dealing with this person less stressful... for him as well as for myself.

After showing him around the house, drinking beers in the process, I thought I'd show him the property. There wasn't much to show but I liked all the old and decaying relics strewn about the fields, such as a rusted tractor, pieces of machinery from what looked like the 40s, etc. About 50 meters/yards from the back door of the house was the dilapidated "barn," as we called it. As we walked down the overgrown path threw the weeds to it, I remember thinking how unbearable the sun and subsequent heat were and how I wanted to make this a quick trip. We were both carrying six packs and I kept putting the cold cans to my face while throwing it back quicker than usual.

We entered the large opening of the barn and let him take a quick look around. However, he seemed quite interested. We glanced at all of the strange implements hanging from the grey boards and mutually commented on how sinister they appeared. Rotting leather straps and such, rusted bladed instruments, etc. He found a filthy crop-type thing amongst the hay and dirt on the floor and picked it up, to which I responded with something along the lines of "Yeah, it looks like some pretty evil sh__ could have taken place in here."

That comment changed everything. It had a strange effect on Kevin, my company. He gave me this rye semi-smile, pulled back the crop as if he was going to hit me with it and said something like "Yes, maybe someone was whipped in here!" Then sort of dismissed it with a fake laugh, obviously feeling a bit awkward after having said it. Caught off guard by his words yet not wanting to make this virtual stranger feel uncomfortable, I played along. I feigned fear and asked him what he was going to do to me, as if I were some sort of frightened captive... then, of course, laughed it off. However, I did find it marginally exciting in some dark way, being in this creepy place and this weird man threatening to whip me, even if he was kidding. It was like being in a movie.

Kevin then affected some sort exaggerated voice of a "mean" man as if it was just a joke, and said he'd have to tie me up. But it was quite obvious to me he was nervous in saying this, I guess not knowing how I'd react... so it was obvious to me he was somewhat kidding and somewhat being serious. Perhaps it was the alcohol and the heat, but because I found the whole situation so bizarre, I felt like giving-in and seeing where this strange thing was going. But feeling a bit strange about it myself, I didn't want to commit to it either, so all I could say was "do what you have to do."

Before I knew it, Kevin was selecting a leather strap from the wall. He was very nervous and tentative as he went about turning me around and tying my wrists behind my back with this strap (something he had great trouble in doing). But I think I was even more nervous as I let him do this to me. I found it oddly exciting in some perverse way... yet I had no idea where it was going or what this guy was going to actually do to me or if he was going to suddenly call ME a pervert and start laughing. I just didn't know.

After he tied my wrists behind my back, nothing happened for about thirty seconds. Then I felt a dull and mild pain against my mid back. He really had hit me with the crop, though not hard at all. I jerked and gasped like he'd hit me hard... I don't know why. He did it a few more times, still sort of letting out a nervous laugh as if we were still just goofing. But I wasn't laughing. I was acting like he was whipping me hard. Finally, he too stopped laughing and everything changed. It was still a game but it was more intense. I think we'd both stopped worrying about the consequences. We were both totally into it at that point.

He finally stopped the mock whipping for a moment and came up behind me and slid my v-neck t-shirt off of my right shoulder. He popped the bare skin a few times with the crop then came back to slide it further down my upper arm. That's when I sort of whispered "Look man, it's just a cheap t-shirt. You're strong enough to tear it off of me."

The next thing I knew, I felt him grasping the collar from behind and struggling to rip it apart and yank it down, which he did... down to about my elbows. At that point, there really wasn't much turning back for either of us. So that's the first part of this incident. If anyone gives a rat's ass, I'll go into the rest. If not, I understand.

Josh
penitux@yahoo.com

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Saturday, February 10th 2001 - 09:56:10 AM

Fiendish Friend (PART TWO)

So I found myself standing in this filthy and oppressively hot barn with my hands tied behind my back with a rough leather strap and my shirt having been partially torn open and pulled down to my elbows, basically leaving me shirtless. To make matters even more bizarre, this had been perpetrated by the odd Kevin from work, who was tentatively whipping me... but whipping me none the less. Because I knew I could put an end to this activity at any moment, it was obviously a game of sorts, I wasn't really some sort of captive. However, weren't we a little old to be playing some version of cops and robbers? Of course, I didn't really have the presence of mind to be pondering these things at the time. I just knew something very strange was going down and that, whatever it was, it was exciting me in a weird way and compelling me to let it continue and to even let myself sink into the situation as if it were real (or at least as if I were a character in a movie scene), despite the fact that something about it seemed very, very wrong.

I stood there for about another two or three minutes as Kevin lightly struck my bared shoulder blades and mid-back with the crop, neither of us saying a word... probably because neither was sure what exactly to say. Finally, the crop contacted my back with some degree of force which, much to my shock, stung a bit. I grimaced and gasped involuntarily and considered ending the game then and there. Instead, however, I thought that the small degree of severity added a bit more realism and intensity to the game, so I let it continue (so long as it didn't become too severe, I thought to myself). Subsequent strikes from the crop were of equal if not more severity and I reacted by exaggerating my innate reactions with gasps, moans and other melodrama, which only seemed to fuel Kevin's own reactions.

After a while, I was drenched in sweat, obviously caused by the heat but also facilitated by both the mild physical pain and this surreal and forbidden excitement that I could not explain. So drenched, in fact, that when the crop came down upon my shoulders, a spray of perspiration would fly against my face. However, since he was repeatedly whipping an isolated part of my back, it was becoming sore, tender, and the salt of my sweat was just making it worse. So, again, I considered calling an end to the game. Yet it was at this time that the lashing stopped and I felt him fumbling with the leather strap about my wrists, followed by a rather stern and detached yet quiet growl into the back of my neck saying not to "try anything." I didn't respond nor react. He untied my wrists. The next thing I knew, I felt him laboriously tugging and pulling at my tattered shirt, trying to rip it open and completely off of me. When that failed, he simply pulled it downward, sliding it down to over my legs and to my feet, which I then stepped out of without any instruction to do so... which I remember thinking was curious. So there I was stripped to the waist -- a very odd sensation, given the circumstances. Enough to make me want to say "Hold on, this is going too far," yet intriguing enough for me to find it darkly thrilling. I don't recall ever having felt so vulnerable or in the midst of something so strange and forbidden, and that was somehow intoxicating.

Kevin moved in front of me, brought my arms together and re-tied my wrists with the strap, this time in front rather than in back. I remember being embarrassed by the fact that I knew my hands were trembling and that my breathing had become deep and rapid, still not really sure what Kevin's perception of this situation was. Then I looked down and noticed that Kevin's hands were also shaking and his jerky and awkward movements suggested a similar state of excitement. We were obviously playing the same game, whatever it was. But clearly it was a game we both seemed to understand intuitively.

He then grasped my bared and sweaty upper arms with both hands (a sensation I found both disturbing - not being accustomed to having another man touch my bare skin - yet exciting) and led me towards a rough and grey wooden support post about twenty feet behind where we had been. He'd apparently spotted a ten-penny rusty nail driven into the post before hand and brought the strap around my wrists up to it, effectively hanging me from it, my back facing him, the front of my torso against the post. The whipping continued. Not fiercely but sufficient enough to sting. This had become a very intense "game." I gave-in and went into character: asking him why he was doing this to me, begging him to stop, writhing, throwing my head back and anything else that seemed appropriate. He never said anything the entire time.

The spell or whatever it was we were possessed by was broken with the sound of voices of children in the distance. Though this place was secluded, there was in fact a development on the other side of the woods. So everything came to a halt as reality shown its ugly head. After a few seconds of nothing, Kevin pulled my wrists from the nail and again quietly growled: "You need to be taken to your cell." With his sweating, plump hand on my naked right shoulder, he led me towards a different "room" within the barn, which was really nothing more than an area created by two walls of rotting boards in a dark back corner with a waist-high gate as an entrance. I knew what the veiled motive was: to hide our activity in the event said children should come closer. Upon entering this "room," it was obvious that it was once where a few horses were kept. Short, makeshift walls created three stalls, at the bottom of each was a feeding area and above that, large metal hooks that one could assume the horses' reigns were tied.

After a few seconds of assessing the environment, Kevin led me to the stall against the back wall and applied a downward pressure upon my shoulder with his hand, which I interpreted as a command that I should get upon my knees. My knees against the straw and dirt floor, he then proceeded to hang my bound wrists upon the hook, my back arched forward uncomfortably so that I was bent over. After a few seconds of, I assume, wondering what to do next, he untied my boot laces, removed my boots and then my socks, mumbling that this would insure that I could not escape (and sorry, Ted, it doesn't go into tickling afterward).

Kevin then walked out of the "cell," boots and socks in hand, and leaving me there. I recall my interest in the game had severally faded by this point, starting with hearing the children's voices and the subsequent snap back into reality... the reality that I was participating in something very bizarre in the scheme of things. As images of my girlfriend popped into my head, I seriously considered standing up, working my wrists until the strap fell off, and finding Kevin and telling him to f___ off, that he was a freak, etc. However, after looking around at my surroundings, evaluating my situation, the thrill returned. So I reveled in the dark seduction of the scene and awaited the return of my fiendish, predatory friend cum captor, excited by the anticipation of what unexpected thing he would do to me next.

It continues, if there's still interest.

Josh
E-mail address: penitux@yahoo.com

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