Another Man's Wife

Rebel In Town

The End of Hellcats

In the Black Angels? clubhouse, Jed winched the hoist higher. There was always a last straw that broke a guy. Every man had his insurmountable obstacle, and Reynolds had met his. It was the ankle spreader. That was all. He?d taken it all, with helter-skelter bravado, bordering sometimes on enjoyment, but the clamped spread of his legs burned the naked helplessness of his manhood deep into his brain. He was beaten, and he knew he was ready to bow the knee in two years his motorcycle club had risen from nothing to a serious rival to the Black Angels, the ruling outfit all along this side of the state. His mob were young, fearless and tearaway. They raced and stunted, they had more fun. The Hellcats were heading for trouble, and it came at the Diamond Diner. The fight was soon over, and Reynolds had been knocked out, bundled into a van and taken back to Jed Morovitz, the Black Angels' chief. His girlfriend Nina had plenty of say in things, and he was in her bed when he came to. She did a few checks for concussion, but she wanted fun basically, and that was what he gave her. He liked girls but he?d been living with his bike mechanic Zim for a year and his big get-off lately had been tying Zim over the seat of his Ducati, flogging him and fucking him. But then Nina proved to be pretty handy with a switch herself, and Reynolds had little trouble satisfying her. The next night the boys took over. Reynolds was taken to the Angels? HQ at the derelict milling plant outside of town. Jed had made himself pretty comfortable there, and it was on his double king-size bed, surrounded by Harleys, Buells and Kawasaki Classics, that Reynolds got buggered for the first time in his life. By Jed, and his best mate Douggie. Then another guy Hense was called in to enjoy the show. Hense took charge of the bondage, and Reynolds found himself chained in a sling. Jed then fisted him as the other two looked on. When Jed was nearly elbow deep and Reynolds thought he would pass out, half dozen or so more members entered Jed?s room. It ended up as a circle jerk round the agonised Hellcats chief. When Jed finally pulled out, a redhead called Wacker took hold of Reynolds? cock. To his humiliation, he was almost hard. Wacker jacked him off, and the guys cheered. Each one of them ending up grabbing his head and shooting into his mouth this went on for a few nights on or off, but one night Jed took him into another room containing a wooden frame about 8 foot square. Jed and Douggie chained him into it, and took turns flogging him. He was in it again the next night, and Jed had him all to himself. This time with a whip. Reynolds? counted out 100 lashes. He was taken back to Nina?s for some R&R, and this was where he learned that Jed had got all the Hellcats to join the Black Angels.

The following Friday night he was chained to a glory hole back at the mill, and serviced a queue of guys for hours. He could see enough to recognise some ? they were Hellcats. He swallowed the spunk of his former clubmates, and knew his bikeclub dream had come to an end. The Black Angels had won. Someone else would have to pick up the challenge. That was when they took him into another room where the hoist and spreader waited for him. Hense chained his arms up behind his back to the hoist, face forward. Gang members came into the room, with beers, and they looked at him, chatted and laughed. Hellcats were among them. Jed entered and came up to him. He just said `You wanna join us?` Reynolds dropped his head. His resistance was gone. Jed started slapping Reynolds? balls, and said `Still holding out pal?` He carried on the soft but agonising slapping of Reynolds? defenceless balls. Reynolds grunted and sucked in his belly. Jed slapped harder, and Reynolds broke. `Yes` `What?s that?` `Yes` `Say it louder` `Yes! `

at that, Hense wheeled in Reynolds? Ducati, and the gang members made way as it was pushed through. He kicked down the stand so the bike stayed upright. Reynolds was released from the hoist and spreader, but his hands stayed cuffed behind his back. Jed pushed him over the seat of the bike, and stood by his head. Hense then flogged Reynolds? back, as Jed said `If you wanna join our gang you gotta beg for it`. The flogging went on and Reynolds begged. He said `Please Jed, I want to join` But Jed let him suffer. This threat to his authority had to be extinguished, and the only way to do that was to humiliate the upstart completely, in full view of his clubmates. There was also the problem with Nina: she?d wanted him first and, being Nina, she?d got her way. Eventually when Reynolds was slobbering and crying Reynolds was taken off the bike. Jed stripped off his jeans and sat astride Reynolds? pride and joy. Hense and Doug then lifted Reynolds onto Jed?s lap. Sitting astride the Ducati, Jed fucked its owner, one arm around Reynolds? chest, and the other jacking him off. Jed found he was liking the feeling of Reynolds? warm arsehole, not quite so tight now as it had been before he fisted it. As he pumped his groin into Reynolds he said `You wanna join boy?`, his voice quavering as he was reaching climax. Reynolds said `Yes Jed please, I?ll serve you and the Angels forever, please Jed please`. He tailed off, whispering `Please Jed, please Jed` to the man who was on his bike, with his cock up his arse and wanking him off. In front of his mates. Suddenly Jed's hot filthy cock hit some place Reynolds never knew he had, and he spurted spunk over the bright red tank of his bike, as he felt Jed shooting his spooge into him. The clubhouse was silent, except for the heavy breathing of the two men on the motorbike. `You?re in then boy` said Jed `you?re mine, and you?re never gonna forget it`. Reynolds? spunk dribbled down Jed?s greasy hand, and he gave out a silent sob, naked, fucked and humiliated, on his own machine

Stepson's Doom Chapter One

Colton Murray wiped his dripping brow as he paused in the back-breaking labor of lifting yet another bale of spring hay into the barn loft of his family farm. Just the thought of "family farm" made him wince -- his mother had remarried Les Caldwell just a year before her own death from cancer. Now the farm belonged to his stepfather, and since the trust set up by his mother with a large fund for his schooling was also under Caldwell's control, Colt had to obey the stern, unloving man at least until he turned 25. Any opposition to his stepdad's commands resulted in severe punishment -- of the physical character. Shirtless in the hot barn, clad only in jeans and boots, the boy was a marvel of physical perfection -- short-cropped blonde hair, vivid blue eyes, broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist, his golden torso the object of many glances from the girls at his high school. Colt had just turned 19, but he was forever forgetting some rule or other of his stepfather -- and that made the boy particularly nervous about this coming evening. Always before, the sadistic Caldwell had punished the boy in this same barn -- but alone, without any witnesses. Tonight was to be different, and Colt remembered the hard knot in his stomach beneath those perfect abs, when "Dad" (as Caldwell insisted upon being called) had first told him about his plans.

Les Caldwell was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee as his stepson was working -- and musing -- and worrying -- out in the barn.

He knew the boy would be tied up in a fevered sweat just anticipating how the coming disciplinary session would turn out. Little did the lad know just how much more he would be experiencing than the man had led him to understand. Caldwell chuckled to himself, knowing that his handsome, athletic stepson would be shocked out of his young mind when the guests arrived for this session. He had told the boy that certain farmers would be dropping by to observe his punishment methods but he hadn't disclosed just who they would be -- the fathers of several of his school friends, all of whom the youth knew -- the humiliation would be excruciating. Always in the past, too, he had punished Colt with the strap or the paddle or the cane -- always over his tightly-stretched briefs. But this night would be a first, and he laughed out loud, knowing just how much Colton's fine image of youthful manhood would suffer!

Promptly at seven o'clock the four neighbors arrived at Caldwell's barn. Les welcomed them in -- there was Brent Potter, the nearest neighbor and father to another strapping school fellow of Colt's; then there was Elliott Pratt, who ran the country cotton exchange -- one of his sons was also Colt's age and a frequent visitor to the farm here; next came Dave Blackert, who although he lived nearby on a small horse-raising spread, was Colt's high school track coach; and finally, Martin Byron, the neighbor to the west -- his daughter was smitten with Colt, and her brother was the boy's best friend. Yes, a good group for this session. Clearing his throat, Les called out for the men to settle down in chairs he had set up in the middle of the barn close to the exposed beam from which iron shackles now dangled -- but the visitors were oblivious to them. All they knew was that Colt had misbehaved in some way and that Caldwell wanted them to see his disciplinary techniques. All of the men had discussed from time to time the present state of "teenage rebellion", and Les had often pointed out that he had no trouble whatsoever keeping his stepson in line -- they wanted to see just what his secret to obedience might be. Caldwell looked at his watch and noticed that it was almost half past seven. He called out: "Okay, neighbors -- it's almost time for the event you've been waiting for. Could you take your seats please! Oh yes, bring your beer with you!" The guests chuckled and took their places in the row of four seats while Caldwell turned on some spotlights that illuminated the area beneath the exposed beam.

As a far-off clock struck the half hour, just in time (as he knew he had to be), the barn door opened and Colt stepped into the room. He was wearing a terry robe, his bare legs and feet noticeable under its hem. The bright light kept the boy from noting the guests at first, and he followed his stepdad's earlier strict instructions to mount the wooden low bench placed beneath the beam, facing the spectators. Caldwell strode up beside him and barked out: "Disrobe, boy! No backtalk!" Trembling as he fumbled with the robe's belt, Colt thought he heard a couple of gasps from the unseen guests in front of him as he threw the garment off and stood on the bench wearing only his white cotton briefs. His stepfather grabbed the boy's left wrist and stretched it upward to fasten into one of the metal shackles; he performed the same operation with the right wrist. When that was done Caldwell stretched the boy's legs apart and tied them to eyelet bolts drilled six feet apart in the wooden bench. Now Colt was spreadeagled, his body sweating with fear as he knew the inexorable punishment to follow. But what he did not know was the identity of his new audience -- until now. Flicking a switch Caldwell caused a small row of lights to light up the rest of the barn -- as his eyes focussed on the four men in the front row of seats, Colt blushed crimson and hung his head to avoid meeting the eyes of his friends' dads. He stammered out, "Dad, please no, don't punish me in front of these men! Please, I'm begging you!" His facial blush spread down the captive boy's neck and upper bare chest, the smooth skin's natural golden color tinged now with red.

"Nonsense, boy! You left that corral gate open yesterday, and we had to chase down two horses for an hour. You deserve what you're going to get, and these men are here to witness you and your humility." Caldwell turned then to the men in the audience, a couple of them with mouths open -- none had expected that the boy would be chained up like an animal! Les said, "Men, there is no excuse for coddling boys who break the rules! And now let us begin!" Picking up a long wide leather strap and taking it by its wooden handle, Caldwell crossed behind his near-naked captive stepson and began to lay on stroke after stroke across the youth's bare, muscular shoulders and upper back. The sting of each blow brought tears to Colt's eyes, and his whole body shook with the force of his stepfather's strokes. After ten of them, his back, although unscarred, was red from the force used, and his torso and legs ran with hot sweat as the lad tried in vain to control his cries. With another ten blows Les relaxed and put down the strap. The neighbors were transfixed as they gazed upon the exhausted boy hanging limply but still conscious from the beam. All four were surprised by their feelings arising -- and arousing -- from this vicious scene of father-son discipline.

But before the guests were able to speak and had started to rise from their chairs, Les Caldwell interrupted and shouted at them, "Not so fast, gentlemen. I'm not done with Colt just yet."

The sweaty boy raised his head and fixed his stepdad with a look of terror --- "Please, please, Dad. I'll do whatever you want. NO MORE, PLEASE!" This last was said with a plaintive shriek, and he looked longingly for mercy at the faces of the fathers of his friends. One by one, each guest lost his own look of shock and dismay, only to be replaced by one of evil desire. Just by searching their eyes Colt knew that his doom was just beginning.

Long Ride From Hell

Bayou Whip

Escaping from the chain gang was never a good idea. He’d been warned by the old lags, but young men always know better

They got him before the day was out. Tracked him down in the swamp. The white guards withdrew. Jar was left in the tender care of the four black guards. All tall, muscular and massive, beautiful specimens of their race. They took him deeper into the swamp, and on dryer ground they built a campfire as night fell. They tied him up, speadeagled between two trees, and put the branding iron in the fire in front of him. He begged and screamed deep into the night as they gutpunched him, whipped him, branded him. His screams grew hoarse and weak, and fell silent. The big men hadn’t finished. Each one took him up the arse, with their magnificent 10 inch cocks, putting their hand round his mouth to stop any further noise. They made Jar cum three times and they pierced his nipples

In the early hours they arrived back at the jail with their captive. They threw him to Taz, a black inmate as big and muscular as they. Taz made him his bitch then and there, and Jar’s scream as Taz entered him echoed throughout the jail. No-one cared. It was the public signal that the boy was now Taz’s. Taz used and abused him, and lent him back to the guards and sometimes an inmate

Jar’s life was now dominated by black cock and jizz. It was hell, but that night by the campfire deep in the bayou had taught him one thing: escaping from the chain gang was never a good idea

Ved Verdens Ende

Buddy Takes All

 The boxers had always been rivals since their teens. Obsessed with each other, with knowing all about each other, and with punishing each other.  They?d boxed in regular fights, and also bareknuckle in the forest.  After one of these they agreed that next time the winner would take the loser?s balls.  Literally.  They?d stared fiercely into each other?s eyes as Danny lay on top of him, and they both they knew they meant it and wanted it.  So here he was.  Danny had won, and Daz had lost.  Danny looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised, as if this was his last chance to bottle it.  But Daz knew this was coming.   He knew Danny was the better of the two, and would take his manhood as his prize.  He was ready.  `Take em Danny` he whispered.   Danny chained Daz? wrists behind his back, and Daz sat on the tree stump, his balls dangling over the edge.  He was hard.   So was Danny.  Danny slowly jacked Daz, and looked at him questioningly.  `Yeah, it?s alright, my last wad?s all yours buddy` he said, and Danny had jacked him.  He did it right ? Daz whispered `I?m there mate` and as he began to shoot his load Danny took his left hand away from the spurting cock and took hold of Daz? ballsac.  Without hesitation he said `got em buddy`, and with his right hand he sliced off Daz? balls with the hunting knife.  He stuffed his prize in his jeans and pressed Daz? boxers against the wound to staunch the bleeding.  Daz was still dribbling cum.  He?d given his manhood up to his pal, and he knew Danny would take his girl.  He knew that he wouldn?t womanise ? testosterone pills would check that, and the loss of his balls would help him develop his body.  He would still be a prize bull, but one that now belonged totally to Danny

Final Reprisal