LARRY AND MOE

BY GRACCHUS

[ part 2 ]

The author does not condone violence or torture of any person. This is a work of fantasy only.

Larry and Morris were best friends. They studied together, spent the night at each others' house, had the same classes, and were on the same swimming team (Morris known for his speed, Larry for his endurance).

They were twelve years old. Their birthdays were in the same month.

And now they were the prisoners of "Lord Rick" and "Lady Rikki". They'd spent many hours being tortured, naked, their slim young smooth bodies being abused, before finally being fed, bathed, and allowed to sleep, naked, each with his own little blanket and little rug.

* * *

Lord Rick came first, for his boy Larry. Wordlessly, he simply threw a noose around the boy's neck and dragged him out. A few minutes later, Lady Rikki cam for her boy, Morris.

"Kneel for me, pretty boy,"

"Please don't call me that," he asked.

"But you are a boy, and pretty. And don't argue." She clipped a light chain around his neck, which he easily could have removed. "Now hold your hands behind you. Do you want them tied behind you again? Then keep them there and follow me and don't speak. I want to show Lord Rick what a good boy I've trained."

And so Morris, or "Moe" to his friends, was led down a hall and down some steps to what was apparently a basement. This one had a cold concrete floor. There was Lady Rikki's box, on the table, probably full of more torture stuff.

Rick was securing Larry between two poles, spread apart. Rings on the outsides of the poles facilitated tying. The man was using ropes, not chains. Even so, Morris could see that the knots were far out of reach, and that Larry was tied between them like a girl in a movie ready to be sacrificed to a monster.

It was also cooler in the basement. Morris fought the urge to hug himself. There was a slight dip in the concrete floor and a drain of some sort in the middle of the depression.

Without the slightest resistance, Morris glad to have his hands NOT behind him for once, Rikki tied her boy up between two more poles. There were about 8 of the poles in various places in the basement-like room, bolted overhead and to the floor, in pairs.

Soon both boys were naked, side by side, held by wrists an ankles, their nicely developing chest muscles pulled tight, as they were stretched far enough to prevent much motion, but not enough to really hurt.

Larry was shivering.

The knots were inspected. The boys would not escape. The man and woman stepped back. Rick, still in black pants and boots without a shirt, but this time Rikki was wearing a pair of red shorts, very short, low in the front to show her less-than-perfect waist and tummy, tight in the back, what would have passed for "hot pants" in the 1970's. A cropped tight red low-cut tank top, much like the one she wore previously, and some black shoes with the heels just a little high, completed the outfit.

"Are you cold, Lady Rikki?" Lord Rick asked with genuine politeness.

"No, my Lord Rick, I'm quite comfortable."

"Then let us begin."

The boys, looking at each other, Larry even testing his bonds, became frightened. But the woman walked over to Larry, kissed his cheek, stroked his chest and side and the buttcheek one one side, and told him he was a pretty boy, almost as pretty as her boy Morris.

She went to Morris and did muchly the same, kissing his chest once and brushing her fingers across his nipples.

"Now, for the contest," Master Rick announced in his Spanish-like or Itailian-like accent. "We expect each of you to do his best."

The woman was dragging out two hoses, like garden hoses. Each had a nozzle on the end, a typical spray nozzle. She put them down, being sure to bend over several times to let the boys see down her shirt front and to see her butt in the short shorts.

"We're going to give you a nice bath. Well, not nice. Really it's quite torturous as it's going to be very cold water," she said. The boys looked at each other, Larry questioningly, as he didn't believe it would be so simple; Morris smirked, as if they hadn't played squirt-with-the-hose a hundred times when they were younger.

"The first one of you who gets a stiffy, a hard-on, an erection, will be untied and allowed to dry off," the man said. The woman smiled; she knew that once the cold water was on them, after a few moments, an erection would be all but impossible. The winner, if there was one, would have to get hard in the first few moments.

The adults picked up their nozzles. Without further ado, they began spraying their boys with very cold water. Within a few minutes, the boys were squirming, trying to avoid having the water spray on their private parts, turning their heads to avoid being sprayed directly in the eyes, gasping, shivering as the cold water continued to draw the heat out of the young bodies.

And within fifteen minutes each boy's teeth were chattering, and the boys were now begging for them to turn off the water.

"Please, no more, please! Turn it off!"

"Please, I'm cold. Please, no more!"

The boys, after 20 minutes, were shivering so hard their muscles ached. And of course, the sprays would frequently target their balls, difficult to avoid at all in their positions.

"P-p-please-n-n-not-t-t-there," the boys were begging, almost as unintelligible as if they had been gagged. They were having trouble breathing as their faces were frequently sprayed. They were squirming against the tight knots of wet rope, which were far out of reach of their fingers.

Finally, the only sounds were the spray, the water going down the floor drain, and the chattering of teeth.

The spray stopped. Rick put away the hoses. The boys shivered and chattered their teeth and cried.

And then they were left alone for a bit.

* * *

After awhile, Lady Rikki having changed her clothes again, this time into some black short low-cut dress and knee-high boots, the adults came back in. They dried the shivering, freezing, blue-lipped miserable boys with towels. They dried their hair and Lady Rikki even combed each boy's hair, helping it dry.

"Looks like there's no winner. No one got a hard-on," Lord Rick said.

"Well, neither of the boys, anyway," the Lady winked and the man laughed.

Ball-torture seemed to be a favorite of the woman, who from the box on the table produced a handful of ordinary rubber bands. She started with Morris first, who shook his head and begged her not to, and even though the boy's nutsack was shriveled up, twisted several rubberbands into the skin, forcing the boy's scrotum tight over his little nuts. Morris knew from experience, and Larry would soon learn, how vulnerable and tender it makes a boy's balls. After she was finished, both boys had rubber bands not only on the bases of their scrotums, but on their peckers as well.

Ball-gags, like the one Larry had worn most of yesterday, were buckled tightly into their mouths. A little hole for breathing. No speech. "You're not going to be allowed to speak," the man said as he buckled on onto "his" boy, Larry. But apparently they were going to work together, as the boys were in identical restraint and torment thus far.

Little metal clips, like the ones used in electrical connections, were placed on each nipple, the boy's squirming and crying and jerking, trying to get them off. A boy's nipples are so sensitive that it takes little pinching to cause considerable pain. Both boys were weeping as the woman walked around behind them with a paddle, and began to paddle their little butts, giving each boy roughly the same number of swats.

The man, standing in front of them, was taking turns swatting their bound balls and peckers with a rolled up towel, one of the ones with which the boys had been dried. The boys screamed out of pain, fear, and humiliation.

Their gags were removed at this point, but as Lord Rick said, it was to allow them to see the fear and pain in their faces. And Lady Rikki walked in with a silver camera. To the boys' horror, she started taking pictures of them, wide shots of both boys, and of each boy, and more close-up shots of their tear-stained faces, their bound genitals, and their reddened buttcheeks. The gags were replaced, buckled tight as before, and the boys were photographed further.

The woman, as the boys were sobbing, explained, the man grinning broadly, that the digital photographs would be copied many times, given to people to take to their middle-school, insuring they would be circulated. Everyone would see the naked tied up crying boys.

As the boys began to realize the horror of what this meant, the man said that he would put them all over the internet in so many places, they'd surface for years. He'd be sure to lable them with the boys' names and ages.

The camera taken to safety, the spread-eagle, naked bound boys sobbing, out came the shocking device, the shocker-pole that Lady Rikki had used. The boys were shocked on their thighs and buttocks, screaming and jerking involuntarily. Short touches would cause a yelp (muffled by gags) and a jerk; a longer one elicited severe jerking and screaming.

If Larry got to find out what the shocker was like, now it was Morris's turn to feel the switching rod, the thin rod going first from one boy to the other, putting painful stinging stripes on their thighs, buttcheeks, and backs, and occasionally careful but very painful swats to their balls. The woman whipped them first, then handed the whip to the man who, after the woman kissed each boy's smooth young chest, whipped the boys' chests & bellies too.

After a few moments, both boys' eyes opened wide. Heads were shaking, eyes pleading, vocalizations attempted with one very clear message: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The woman with Morris, the man with Larry, both boys' anuses were being raped with the dreaded "dick-on-a-stick". Even with the lubrication, the boys howled in pain and humiliation, especially Morris whose butt was frequently squeezed and patted by the woman who tormented him. Then the man and woman changed places and dildo-raped them again.

* * *

The boys hung limp in their bonds now, their bodies covered with red stripes, many of them bleeding. The gags had been removed. The rubber bands had been removed from their genitals. They were given drinks of water, with the sleeping medication in the water.

The woman, first twisting Larry's balls and then Moe's, walked behind them to pinch their buttcheeks, and they both lost consciousness.

* * *

On a cold, chilly November afternoon, in the woods that overlooked their houses (the boys lived within a block of each other), the boys awakened. Naked, laying in a raked-out circle of hard dirt on the cold ground, Morris and Larry sat up. They were covered with scratches. They ached all over. Morris thought he was going to be sick. Larry held his balls in his hand, trying to stop the ache in them. Dirt stuck to their bodies. They looked around. Finally they stood up, naked, bodies scratched and reddened and even bruised in places.

Larry could barely walk, his feet hurt so bad. Morris was not in much better shape.

Certain the police would be called, certain they would get into trouble no matter what, certain that everyone in town would find out, especially from Larry's blabbermouth mother, they had no idea what they were going to tell their parents about their absences, their nakedness, or their injuries. The humiliation would be worse than the torture.

And the walked and limped down the path toward the street, neither boy having any tears left to cry, neither boy giving thought to the photographs, and neither boy caring if he made it home alive or not.