Date: Wed, 15 Mar 2017 18:31:38 -0400
From: Mark Robinson <ibfoasm62@gmail.com>
Subject: Tree House Torture Game 2

Thanks to everyone who emailed me encouragement (and their own hot boyhood
experiences!) from my first-ever Nifty contribution, which can be read at
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/tree-house-torture-game. All
others should read that first for the background of this new chapter.

And please, if you enjoy these stories, please consider supporting the
great free resource that Nifty gives us. Go to
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This installment takes place a few days after my friend Kenny and I (both
14) discovered our mutual enjoyment of bondage and torture games during his
interrogation of me as part of a neighborhood war game during summer
vacation.


After that afternoon up in Kenny's tree house, we didn't see each other for
several days. Well, we saw each other, but only from each other's yards
across the street. We studiously avoided eye contact, and didn't come over
to say hi or hang out, as we typically would before.


I didn't know how Kenny was feeling, but for my part I was struggling
through an intense and confusing mixture of lust and embarrassment. On the
shame side, I was kind of horrified to think of the line that we'd crossed
in our friendship. The thought of being thought of as gay probably still
terrifies many teenage boys caught up in the frenzy of experimentation, but
this was the 1970s, and the possible stigma was even more pervasive.


But then every thought of what we did still made me so damn hard! I'd lie
in bed at night reliving every second of the treehouse interrogation, and
every time it made me instantly hard, and soon in the bathroom for an
intense jerk off session. And a huge part of me wanted to do it again,
wanted so desperately to experience more torture. However, I was sure that
Kenny had to be totally weirded out toward me because of what happened, and
that he would probably never talk to me again, let alone want to play sex
games.


I don't know whether I would have ever had the courage to break that ice
and talk to Kenny again, but as it turned out I was relieved of having to
find out. One afternoon I was sitting on our front steps mindlessly
throwing pebbles at the squirrels. I had been sitting out there a lot
lately, sort of half hoping Kenny would see me and come over. And then, he
did. When I saw him coming across the street my heart started pounding. Was
he going to yell at me? Call me a fag? Tell me we could never be friends
again?


Kenny ambled up our walk, his head down, hands in his pockets. Somehow his
shy demeanor gave me a glimmer of hope; maybe he was just like me. Just
maybe he wanted to get back to the amazing feelings we'd shared that hot
summer day too, but was just as much at a loss on how to get back there,
how to get past the shame and embarrassment as I was.


"Hey," Kenny ventured.


"Hey yourself," I replied, with a sheepish smile." What's up?"


"Nuthin' much. Bored mostly. How `bout you?"


"Same."


Silence for several seconds, shuffling of feet, beating of hearts, then:


"What to come over?"


It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping up and shouting,
"Yippee!" but I still had enough teenage boy macho reserve to keep from
doing that. But I did smile broadly and said, "Sure!"


We ran across the street and around into his backyard, and then came the
inevitable, "So, what do you want to do?"


I knew very well what I wanted to do....but did he want the same? I decided
since he had been bold enough to come over and invite me back to his yard,
it was my turn to be bold. I swallowed hard, then just forced the words
out: "Could we, y'know....go back up there?"


As I said that I turned my head and looked up at the treehouse. I actually
hears a small gasp come from Kenny.


"You....you want to?" he said, haltingly. And I think we both knew the "want
to" meant more that just climb up in the treehouse.


"Yeah...yeah I really do."


And just like that we were back in the mode. All shyness and pretense gone.
It was like we had a secret code between us, a set of cryptic signals only
we knew that said everything we couldn't bare to say out loud.


Kenny pointed his index finger at me, and formed his hand into a "gun."


"Then, march, prisoner. You'll be sorry we recaptured you. Escape from
prison camp 17 is not tolerated. You must be punished. Do you understand?"


"Yeah, I understand all right."


I turned and marched over to the ladder, already feeling the pleasure of a
developing boner in my shorts. I climbed up to the treehouse, Kenny right
behind me, covering me with his imaginary gun. Once I pulled myself up into
the treehouse, I immediately went to my knees and placed my hands behind my
back, as if they were tied. When Kenny's head came through the trap door I
saw his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of me. There was now no doubt where
this was going, and I think at that moment we both relaxed into our roles.


My friend ordered me to stand, and reached over to help me to my feet,
enabling me to keep up the ruse that my hands were tied.


"Guards, untie his hands."


I looked confused for a moment. What guards? And then I got it; he wanted
me to have my hands free, but had to keep the role play going. I wriggled
for a moment, and then brought my hands to my sides.


"Now prisoner, prepare yourself for some very unpleasant punishment. You
have defied Prisoner Camp 17, and you will suffer for it! Remove your
shirt."


I very willingly pulled my t-shirt over my head and then stood with my
hands locked behind my head, so that my chest was thrust out toward Kenny.


Kenny walked slowly around me, every so often reaching out and lightly
touching my exposed skin. "Nice. Very nice. It will be a delight to torture
you, Prisoner 42."


When he came around to my front, he ran his fingers up from my stomach and
started brushing his fingers back and forth over my hardening nipples. "I
seem to remember these were particularly sensitive."


His words and touch were driving me insane with lust. I was so turned on I
was ready to submit to anything. And that same lust drove me to a moment of
inspiration. I decided to throw a curve ball into our game to see what he
would do with it.


Suddenly I fell to my knees in front of him, and looked up with the most
pleading look I could muster. "Please, please don't torture me sir! Please,
I'll do anything. Anything! I'll be your slave, obey ANY order you give me
if you don't torture me."


Kenny looked surprised indeed, and quite pleased at the same time. He
quickly drew back into his character.


"Hmmm, slave huh? Do anything I say? You realize if you are my slave you
will exist for my pleasure, right? You will live to please me? And I may
still torture you any time I want if it pleases me?"


"Yes, master."


"Then show me that you mean it. Do something that shows you are my complete
slave."


I thought for a moment. What could I do. Then again, the boldness of pure
teenage boy lust took over. I stood, and began unbuckling my belt and the
button of my shorts. As I slowly lowered the zipper fly, I looked up and
caught Kenny licking his lips, his eyes full of excitement. I quickly
lowered my shorts, then placed my fingers inside the waistband of my boxers.


"A slave should be naked," I said in a hoarse whisper. And then I lowered
my undershorts.


My friend made no secret that he was fascinated with my 4" long cock,
jutting straight out from my sparse pubic hair. He said nothing, but began
to undress himself. I put a hand up to stop him.


"Your slave should do that."


Kenny dropped his arms to his side and I approached him. As I removed each
piece of his clothing I could hear his breathing rate increase. Finally he
was down to his tighty whiteys. I stood back for a moment and said, "What
does my master wish?"


"I want my slave to make me feel good."


I took a step forward and began rubbing all over his chest and abdomen. He
was flinching, and I could see his young cock pushing his underwear
straight out. I kept moving my hands closer and closer to his hard little
rod, but never quite touching it yet. I intuitively knew the power of
teasing to make a guy harder than he ever thought he could be.


Each time my hands got close to his shorts, he would gasp out,
"Please...please...please." I knew he wanted me to touch it more than he wanted
anything in the world.


And then even my patience for teasing gave out. In a flash I pulled down
his undershorts and he quickly lifted each foot to step out of them. Then,
without a moment more of ceremony, I grabbed his boy cock in my fist. That
moment, if possible, was even more incredible than the orgasm he had given
me earlier in the week as I hung from ropes suspended from his treehouse
roof. There was something uniquely thrilling about holding another guy's
supreme pleasure in my hand.


And then I began to stroke. No slow teasing now, just jerking away for the
life of me. I got down on my knees in front of Kenny so I could stroke even
harder. Kenny threw his head back and just gasped over and over, saying,
"Oh my god! Oh wow! Oh! Oh!"


My whole being now was about that beautiful stiff column in my hand.
Imagining Kenny's pleasure became my whole pleasure. I wanted him to have
his mind blown the way he'd blown mine before.


And then suddenly, before I was ready, Kenny sucked in his stomach hard,
and he came. Oh my god did he cum! The first jets spewed right on my face
before I could move out of the way. I leaned back and the next two fell on
my chest. I was so excited that I just kept on stroking, resulting in Kenny
giving out a sharp yell and batting my hand away.


"Owww! It's sensitive! You idiot slave, you want too far! Now you have to
pay!"


And so it would be back to torture for me....


***********


Thanks so much for reading, and special thanks to all the great guys who
emailed me after my first chapter of this. Please keep sending me your own
experiences, your reactions to my stories, and any suggestions you have.
Reach me at ibfoasm62@gmail.com.


And don't forget to support Nifty! Thanks.