MEMORY OF ALEX

BY OWENM
memoryofalex@hotmail.com

[ part 7 ]

It was early when my eyes fluttered open, the sun just high enough that light was filtering in through the bedroom windows but not yet shining in brightly and turning the room into an oven. The temperature was pleasant, or at least I had gotten used to the heat and stickiness to a point where I didn’t notice it as much. The bed molded itself perfectly to my frame, the pillow soft beneath my head, the warm naked body of my brother pressed against my equally bare flesh. I couldn’t remember ever feeling comfortable, so at peace in my entire life.

He lay on his side, his back to me, the front of my body pressed up against his. Carefully, I rolled over to the other side of the bed, not wanting to wake him just yet. His shoulder rose and fell evenly with his breathing, his quiet snores reverberating in my ears. The gentle light bathing his skin gave him an almost fuzzy appearance, like the slightly out of focus camera shots used in movies to show romantic scenes. The stark white of the areas of his body normally covered by underwear stood out so sharply from the rest of his well-tanned form that it nearly shone on its own.

Hardly realizing what I was doing, my hand reached out and gently stroked his shoulder blade. I never really thought before about what he felt like, how soft and smooth his skin was under my fingers, how the gentle curves of his arms belied the muscles that I still didn’t have. His dark hair was fine and soft, cascading through my hand, tickling the spaces between my fingers. I let my hand trace the ridge of his spine, down to the small of his back where his bound hands rested, down past them to more personal places. He didn’t stir as I traced the cleft of his butt, wondering if mine looked like his did, jutting away from my body, the chasm a deep fissure between his cheeks. My hand wandered around to his front, blindly reaching until it found what it was seeking, surprised to find it already stiff and throbbing.

Alex moaned and stirred. Not ready to wake him, I withdrew my invading hand, letting it settle on my own little hard-on. Mine felt so inadequate compared to his, so short and thin against what I considered to be his impressive endowment. The feeling raced through me as my fist tightened, a slight gasp escaping my lips, desire wrapping itself around my soul to bring myself back to the heights of ecstasy that I had experienced for the first time last night. With a jerk I yanked my hand back, confused and frightened without any idea why. I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling, retreating into my thoughts to escape the pulses of feeling that rocketed out from my thing.

Last night, everything seemed so clear. What Alex did for me made me feel like I could soar into the highest heavens, like being awakened to find out that life was richer and more full of possibility than I had ever dared to imagine. I felt so certain that when Alex asked me one again to accompany him into the depths of agony, I could be there for him. Now, nothing was certain. Now, what we did last night felt more like a filthy secret than something to be shouted out loud in a crowded room. I realized with horror what I had just done, exploring my brother’s body in a way that no brother ever should, and even worse, realizing that when I did it, my thing leapt to attention. I realized that last night I was ready to go back down the path of becoming that monstrous thing that reveled in the agony of another person. So many bizarre thoughts and feelings rushing through me with the power of a massive waterfall, washing away the me that I knew and replacing it with some dark and sinister thing that should never have seen the light of day.

Alex yawned, rolling over awkwardly to face me, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “What time is it?”

“About seven,” I answered, looking away.

He groaned. “Could you untie me? I gotta take a leak really bad.” The moment he was free, he jumped out of bed, not even bothering to pull on his underwear before running for the bathroom. The sounds he made captivated me; the powerful stream pounding into the bowl, the sigh of relief he made when it started, the distinct sound of a toilet flushing, imagining him standing there, dick in his hand, shaking off those last few drops...

What the heck is wrong with me??

Alex came back into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. I glanced over for a second, his eyes warm and soft, a caring look of concern face. I turned away as fast as I could. His hand felt warm on my shoulder. “How are you doing?” he said quietly, his voice full of concern.

“Ok,” I answered, hoping that would be enough.

“No you’re not,” he said. “Jake…I…I’m really sorry that I…”

He didn’t deserve to take all the blame. I was the guilty one, far more than him. I turned over. “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it’s my fault,” he said softly. “Everything was my idea, wasn’t it?”

I sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ok,” he said softly, turning away. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I just don’t want you to feel like we did something really bad, cause I don’t think we did.”

I felt close to tears, but said nothing. He got up, picking up a pair of underpants from the floor and slipping them on. I watched the firm globes of his butt disappear beneath the thin white fabric, once again embarrassed and ashamed that my eyes were fixed on his body, that my thing had once again expressed it’s own interest as well. He quietly left the room without even looking at me. A pit quickly grew in my stomach, forcing me out of the bed after only a few minutes and into the doorway, watching as he settled onto the couch to watch cartoons with a bowl of cereal balanced between his folded legs.

“What do you mean?” I said softly. He turned to look at me.

“About what?”

“About…not doing something bad.”

He put his cereal down and stood up, walking a little closer but still keeping his distance. “About you feeling that we did something bad?” I nodded. “I don’t think we did.”

“But we did,” I said, my voice cracking. “I mean…we’re not supposed to do stuff like that, are we? Isn’t it wrong? Especially cause…”

“Especially cause we’re both boys?” I nodded fiercely, my eyes fixed on the wooden floor. He came closer, putting his arms around me. “I don’t care,” he said softly, the tears starting to flow down my cheeks. He began to sniffle as well. “I don’t care what anybody says we’re supposed to do or think or be like. I don’t care that I’m not supposed to jerk off or that I’m not supposed to like being tied up. I just want to do what I want to do without anyone telling me what I’m supposed to do anymore.” His voice became firm, full of resolve and conviction. “I don’t give a shit anymore what people think about me. I don’t give a shit that its not cool to say that I love my brother.” I sobbed on his shoulder. “Cause I do. You’re the best brother anyone could ever have and I would do anything for you. Anything.” He pulled away and picked up my chin. “If you tell me that you never want to do anything with me again, I won’t ever talk about it, never.”

I suddenly felt torn apart, ripped into two. A part of me was grateful, relieved that I was off the hook, that the confusion could be over. But the other part of me, the one that started small but gradually became stronger and stronger, it told me how selfish I was being when my brother was anything but. How I was putting my own squeamishness in front of what I understood he not only wanted but needed. How could I do that so someone that just told me I was the best brother that anyone could ever have?

I shook my head. “It’s ok,” I said softy, trying to make myself sound certain. “I just…feel weird about it, that’s all.”

“I know,” he said sympathetically. “It seemed weird to me at first too…” He trailed off. “Do you want breakfast?”

I nodded. He put his hand on my shoulder, leaving it resting there for a moment, and then turned to go into the kitchen. I followed, sitting down at the table while he pulled out a bowl and poured the cereal and milk for me, putting it down in front of me.

“I could have done that,” I said.

“But I like doing it for you,” he said back, sitting down next to me, his own bowl apparently forgotten in the living room.

I took a spoonful of cereal, forcing myself to swallow it. My words were addressed more to the cereal bowl than to Alex. “Do you want me to tie you up today?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” he said firmly.

Was it really so horrible? Was it really that bad to give him all the things he wanted? It wasn’t as if I had to endure the long hours of suffering, the excruciating pain, the mind-numbing boredom of being tied up and abandoned. He did so much for me…it was only right, it was only fair that I did the same for him.

“It’s ok,” I said, forcing myself to sound not only certain, but happy to participate even if I wasn’t. “After all, it’s not me getting tied up.”

“Uh huh,” he said, smiling. “If you want we can try something else today.” I looked at him with uncertainty in my eyes, but he dismissed it quickly with a warm hand on my shoulder. “Not torture or anything like that.”

“Then what?”

“Well, something different.” He looked away from me. “I kinda…” He laughed nervously.

“What?”

“It’s hard to say. I…” he trailed off, taking a gulp followed a deep breath. “I want you to tell me what to do,” he spat out. I blinked in confusion while he sat back in his chair, looking as if he was ready to run away or maybe throw up. He sighed when he understood I had no idea what he was talking about. “I mean…I want…I’ll be…a slave.” The last words were so soft I could barely hear them.

“A slave?” I asked, dumbfounded.

He turned red. “Yeah, you know…you tell me to do stuff and I do it.”

“What, like regular stuff?”

“Whatever you want.”

I blinked, a little smile spreading across my face. “So if I told you to bark like a dog you would do it?”

He looked at me for a second, and then howled at the top of his lungs, so convincing I might have found myself in a dark wood on misty Halloween night were it not so bright and miserably hot. I exploded with laughter as he started to bark, loud, full barks like a big dog, milk running out of my nose and bits of cereal flying across the table. He stopped barking, a huge grin across his face.

“Ok, now jump up and down and make sounds like a monkey!” I demanded, giggling uncontrollably.

“Come on,” he said, the grin leaving his face. “Be serious!”

“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” I dragged my sleeve across my face to clean off the milk.

“More serious stuff,” he said, the mirth suddenly leaving the room. “You know, you could make me do stuff for you, kinda like a servant.”

“Why do you want to do that?” I asked curiously.

“I dunno, I just want to,” he said. “Wait, before we do it, there’s something we need first.”

He got up from the table. I followed him dumbfounded into my father’s room, watching him without comprehension as he reached up on the high shelf, going right for the box that Dad had pulled down the day he gave me the gag and clamps. From the way he balanced himself precariously, grunting, I could tell it was heavy. My eyes wide, I watched him set it on the bed, the contents rattling noisily with a metallic sound, pushing the cover off the box.

“How did you know about that?” I stammered.

“I knew it was there,” he said, rummaging around in the box. “I knew you got the gag and the clip things from Dad.” Triumphantly, he pulled something from the box, setting it down on the bed. My mouth hung open, still too stunned to even look at what it was.

“What do you….you mean…you knew about the box? Dad told you?”

“No,” he said, without any further explanation, removing something else from the box and placing it down on the bed. I looked over at them, my mouth still hanging open. They were fairly short strips of what looked like black leather, wider than a belt and far too short to be one. At one end were a series of narrow slits, almost like holes for a belt buckle but much longer. At the other end, a small metal ring was set into the leather. A much larger ring was fixed in the middle. He placed yet another one down, and then another, and then another, five in total. There seemed to be two shorter ones, two a little longer, and then one even a little longer than that. Alex kept rummaging around in the box.

“What…what are those?” I whispered.

“Cuffs,” he said quietly, almost reverently. He stopped looking in the box, picking one up. “See, it goes around my wrist like this.” He wrapped the leather around, pushing the small ring through one of the slits so that it formed something like a really wide bracelet. “All it needs is a lock in the ring and then it can’t come off.” He took it back off and laid it on the bed, continuing to rummage around in the box.

I stared at it, comprehension suddenly flooding into my head. “And then I can use the ring to tie you to things,” I said in awe.

“Yeah,” he said nodding. “Ah ha!” He pulled out a plastic bag, dropping it on the bed where it made a noisy, metallic sound. I stared at it while he pulled a few small, brass padlocks out of the bag, five in all, setting them down next to the cuffs. “There,” he said softly, turning to look at me. “Can you…can you put them on me?”

Like a robot, I nodded, mechanically walking up to pick them up from the bed. It was almost as if I was watching from a distance, seeing things happen more like they were on a television show than in real life. He held out his hand, and I wrapped the same cuff around it, pushing the small ring through the slit, taking one of the padlocks in my hand. His hand was trembling, goosebumps standing out on his forearm as I threaded the open padlock through the ring, snapping it shut with a click that made both of us jump. I let go, and he reached over to touch his wrist, stroking it like a beloved pet. “I never wore them before,” he said to himself.

“How do you know about them?” I asked again. He didn’t answer, just holding up his wrist. The big ring rocked back and forth, making a strange sound not quite like metal ringing together but also not quite like metal hitting something soft. “Who told you about them?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, holding out his other wrist. “Please.”

I shook my head. “I wanna know.” It was true, I could feel it building up inside me, a burning need to know how he seemed to know so much about such inscrutable things. He didn’t answer. I picked up the other small cuff, holding it in my hand, reluctantly wrapping it around his wrist and securing it with another padlock. The two larger ones were just as efficiently locked onto his ankles.

“What’s the other one for?”

“It’s a collar,” he said breathlessly. “For my neck.”

“I know where a collar goes,” I said, the irritation showing in my voice at his secret still being withheld from me. “But why do you need to get tied by your neck?”

He turned a little red, looking away. “You know…you could attach a rope and it could be kinda like…a leash.” I instinctively took a step backward, the idea of leading him around like an animal beyond strange but somehow incredibly attractive to the other part of me, just waking up and whispering in the back of my mind of things I could do to my brother. He quickly spoke to break the tension. “I just want to wear it, you don’t have to actually do anything with it.”

“Fine,” I said, picking it up and wrapping it around his neck.

“It’s too loose,” he complained.

“It’s gonna make it hard to breathe.”

“It still needs to be tighter, just not too tight.” I pulled it two more notches, the leather snug around his neck, the big ring positioned in front. I snapped another padlock to hold it in place. Immediately, he walked over to the mirror, staring at himself and the leather locked onto his body. I could see him trembling slightly, and I could feel myself doing the same, my thing straining at my underwear as much as I could see his doing the same. That other person inside me woke up even further, gently trying to push aside the parts of me that were scared and uncertain, longing to listen to Alex whimpering and crying in unspeakable agony. I shoved it back aside, wiping the sweat from my brow.

“What else is in there?” I asked softly, not wanting to look for myself, probably not able to comprehend what anything would be used for without Alex’s guidance. He tore himself away from the mirror, coming back to the bed and looking inside.

“There’s a bunch of chain,” he said. My stomach jumped, the possibilities of leaving Alex chained up instead of just tied curling around the corners of my mind. I tried to shove the sudden images away, but was unable to. He pulled something else from the box, long and wooden, holes dotting the dark surface. “It’s a paddle,” he said. “For hitting.”

“I know,” I whispered.

He pulled more things from the box that required no explanation, all clearly instruments designed with the express purpose of causing pain. A short whip with a lot of strands, each knotted off at the end. A longer whip more like the kind that Indiana Jones used but not as long as his. Something that Alex called a strap, looking like the paddle but softer and more flexible than the wood being made of thick leather. There were other pairs of clamps in there, ones that looked stronger and even more vicious than the ones we used. And then, Alex took something out that made my jaw drop in surprise and then made me burst into laughter.

“It’s a giant dick!” I pointed, sputtering. “What the heck am I supposed to do with a giant dick?” He wasn’t laughing at all. I managed to get myself under control.

“It ummm…it goes in my butt.”

I stared at him and then cracked up again. “How is a dick supposed to fit in your butt?”

“It goes…you know, inside,” he said quietly.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, it really does.”

I tried to imagine it, but it was just too weird. “It goes inside, like…where the shit comes from?” He nodded. “That is so gross.” He shrugged, taking another rubber looking thing from the box.

“This is the same kind of thing, but because it gets wider and then smaller it stays in and won’t come out.”

“I don’t wanna put stuff in your butt and get your shit all over everything,” I said, scrunching up my nose. “That’s just sick.”

“If you don’t want to,” he said softly, putting the dick and the other butt thing back into the box. He looked into it. “That’s it.”

Questions leapt into my mind once again, questions that I knew he wasn’t going to answer. I knew, or at least suspected why Dad even had this stuff, because he told me that he was into it, but the way that Alex seemed to know so much about it…He knew all the names, what the stuff was used for, how it was used…how could he know all that? The box was supposed to be a secret, Alex didn’t know about it. A burning desire to know more rose up inside me. The other part of me whispered in my ear, telling me what to do, how to find out. I felt like I snapped, like a light switched turned on, or more like off. My dick began to throb, eager for the release that it experienced for the first time last night. I let it take over.

“Alex,” I said in a commanding voice. He turned away from the mirror where he was staring again and looked at me. “Go put on a pair of shorts and get your backpack.”

“Why?”

“If you’re my slave then you have to do what I say,” I answered. “Get me shorts and my shoes too.” He stared at me for a moment, and then went out of the room, returning with the requested items cradled in his hands. “What are you waiting for, get dressed,” I ordered, pulling on my own shorts and slipping my shoes on. He finished just before me, standing at the edge of the bed wearing only his shorts, a delicious look of fear on his face.

“Hands behind your back,” I ordered. He turned around, and I bound his wrists together with one of the padlocks. Even though he could move a lot more than when I tied his hands together, using the cuffs and the padlocks somehow seemed more secure. “Go stand facing the corner in the kitchen until I’m ready for you.” He obeyed.

Hurriedly, I shoved everything laid out on the bed into the backpack, fishing into the box to grab a few lengths of chain and all the padlocks I could find, careful to avoid touching the butt things. I stuffed all of the keys to the locks into my pockets, not sure which one worked which lock but confident that it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out. The pack was heavy as I slung it over my shoulders, almost too heavy for me to carry, but I wouldn’t have to carry it long. Dropping it in the living room, I retrieved the pair of clamps and the gag from the drawer in our bedroom along with two pairs of socks and shoving it all into the pack with the rest of the gear. I picked it up and took it into the kitchen, where Alex was waiting for me in the corner as I had ordered. He looked like he was trembling again.

“I can’t do this without untying your hands,” I explained, fishing in my pocket for a pair of keys to try first. Miraculously, the first ones I tried were the right keys, the padlock opening smoothly. I held it in my hands. “Put the pack on.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Put the pack on,” I said stubbornly. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulders. “Good, now put your hands behind your back again.”

“Jake, it’s kinda heavy…”

“Put your hands behind your back,” I growled. “Or you’ll get punished.” He maneuvered his hands, crossing them together uncomfortably just beneath where the backpack rested on his bare back. I snapped the padlock back into place. A wicked idea formed, and I ran off to return a moment later with a length of rope. Carefully, I turned the collar so that the big ring was in the back, and then I tied the rope to the ring. He whimpered a little, but didn’t say anything. “That way you can’t try to run away.”

“Where are we going?” I didn’t answer. “You’re not really taking me outside like this,” he said, terrified.

“Yeah, I am.”

“But…someone could see!” he whispered fiercely. “I’m wearing all this stuff!”

“No one’s gonna see if you stay quiet and do what I say,” I told him. “We can’t do what I want here, we gotta go somewhere else.”

“Just let me take all this stuff off first. We can put it back on when we get there,” he offered.

“No, you have to wear them.” I opened the back door and pointed. “Now let’s go or I’ll make you walk naked instead.”

He turned pale. “I’m not wearing shoes.”

“You can walk barefoot.” I tugged on the rope tied to his collar. He stumbled out of the corner.

“Jake, please!”

I let go of the rope, angrily walking back in front of him. He tried to walk backward, but off balance as he was with his hands tied and the heavy pack he stumbled, barely keeping his balance. I deftly unbuttoned the front of his shorts, letting them fall to his ankles while he looked at me, horrified, only his underpants left.

“You want to lose those too?” I asked softly.

He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “Please, Jake, please don’t make me go outside like this. I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t make me go.”

It was amazing to me, how the sound of him begging tearfully like that was just as powerful as listening to the sounds of his tortured screams. My thing throbbed even harder, my hand wandering down to stroke it through my shorts. Images flashed in my head of what was about to happen to Alex, what I was about to do to him. I wanted to force him down on his knees right there, whip it out and shove it in his mouth, but I knew there were other things I needed to know first.

“Let’s go,” I said, picking up the rope and giving it another sharp tug. He shuffled slowly, crying now, standing in the doorway in front of me for a moment until I pushed on his shoulder to get him to walk. I knew that no one would see us, that no one ever came around here, that where we were going was as quiet and abandoned as the most remote parts of the world. He stumbled down the stairs, almost losing his balance but managing to right himself without falling flat on his face. He turned around, his eyes begging for sympathy, his face streaked with tears. I held the rope firmly. “Move.”

Glancing around to make sure that no one was nearby, I led him through the backyard into the woods. Once we were there, I felt more relaxed now that we were out of sight from the road obscured by the dense trees. Alex walked slowly, his eyes fixed on the ground, his bare feet already covered in the squishy mud and moss that covered the forest floor. Every now and then he stepped on something sharp or surprising, causing him to hiss and one time even bringing him down to his knees with a cry of pain. I stood behind him silently, holding the leash tight while he struggled to get to his feet. My eyes stayed fixed on his body as he walked, the way his muscles tensed and loosened, the sweat beaded on his face and his shoulders that he couldn’t wipe away, the clenching and unclenching of his butt hidden only behind thin white cotton. It drove me even further into the depths of lust. Alex undoubtedly guessed where we were going, because he led onward in the right direction without a hint from me.

We reached a small clearing that was halfway there, marked by several rusted out appliances that someone had abandoned. I yanked on the rope suddenly, causing him to nearly fall over. He stood still with his shoulders slumped over while I walked around in front of him. I tried to look at his face, but he turned away when I did, at least until I put my fingers into the waistband of his underpants.

“Please don’t,” he said softly. I ignored him, pulling them slowly down, relishing the way his stiff dick popped out and stood straight out in front of him. He turned beet red, sniffling like he was going to cry again, but didn’t offer any resistance as I pulled them down to his ankles.

“Step out of them.” Awkwardly, he kicked them away, leaving him completely nude and exposed. It still wasn’t enough to satisfy me. Forcing him to turn around, I opened the top of the pack and took out the gag, holding it in my hand. “Open up,” I ordered. He hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth wide. I shoved the ball in place and pulled the strap tight, then rummaging around in the bag again until I found what I wanted. I walked around him, holding them in my hand. His eyes went wide when he saw them, taking a step backward and shaking his head as hard as he could. I grabbed his collar and held it, forcing the first clamp open and letting it snap shut on his nipple. He cried out in the gag, tears running down his face. He offered no resistance as I put the other one on, another squeal muffled by the gag.

“Let’s go,” I ordered. He walked slowly away, sniffling and whimpering a little. My dick was throbbing again at the sight of him forced to march naked, bound, gagged, and in pain.

We reached our destination after another twenty minutes of walking. Inexplicably, nestled amongst the trees and choked with the underbrush, was an old shack. It must have been abandoned for years, the windows boarded up, the door barely hanging open on rusted hinges. An old car with no tires was merrily rotting away in the front yard, tree debris and bird droppings make it look as if it had been spray painted with graffiti. Alex had found it a few months back, on a day when he had been feeling badly and had gone off to be by himself. He showed it to me a week later, proud of his find and pointing out how certain he was that only the two of us knew about it by the absence of beer bottles and cigarette butts. He still came out here every now and then when he wanted to be alone, but not since we had started our tie up stuff. He turned around and looked at me with sad eyes.

“Inside,” I ordered, pushing him on the shoulder. He walked carefully, and I realized why very quickly, rusty old nails littering the ground. I let him go as slowly as he wanted, shuffling along behind him until we climbed the single step on the porch, the ancient and decaying wood creaking and groaning under our weight. The shack was dark inside, lit only by the sparse sunlight filtering in through the cracks in the walls and the holes in the ceiling, but my eyes quickly adjusted. It was empty save for a pile of dirty lumber and wooden crates in one corner, a thick layer of dust billowing up with every step we took. It was one room downstairs, but what might have been a loft at one time covered half of the room. Many of the floorboards from the loft were gone or had never been nailed in place, leaving exposed beams. Alex came to a stop in the middle of the room, sniffling. I looked up, examining the beams. They still looked solid enough, and had held my weight without a problem when I had climbed up in the loft and shimmied out on one of them the last time I had been here, so I knew they would work for my purposes.

Pulling the key I knew worked on his hands from my pocket, I unlocked his hands from behind his back. He pulled them forward with a groan, immediately pulling the clamps off from his chest, squealing once again as he took them off. I looked at him angrily, but didn’t do anything about it. They would be back on him soon enough. I helped him drop the backpack on the floor, and then re-locked his hands in front of him. He stood still while I went into the corner, picking up one of the upside down crates, my eyes going wide when I saw what was hidden beneath it. I looked over at Alex, who was turning red.

“You used to tie yourself up out here?” I said incredulously, staring at the pile of ropes. He nodded slowly. I picked up the crate and brought it over to a point beneath one of the beams. “I thought this was going to be something new, but you already did this.” He didn’t answer. “Stand on the crate.”

He climbed up carefully onto the box, balancing as best as he could with his hands locked together in front of him. I went into the backpack, pulling out a few more padlocks and a length of chain. Without comment, I shoved the padlocks in my pocket and laid the chain around my neck to keep my hands free, then climbed up the rickety ladder into the loft. Carefully, I maneuvered myself to be straddling the beam right above him. He looked up at me, very clearly understanding what I intended to do, soft moans coming from his lips. I locked the length of chain around the beam, leaving the free end to dangle loose.

“Put your hands above your head,” I ordered. He stretched them out, high enough that I could easily reach down and lock the free end of the chain to his wrists. His elbows were still a little bent, but that didn’t matter much to me. I climbed back down, my eyes drinking in his nude body, his arms stretched out above his head, balanced precariously on the crate. He was shaking his head as I came over near him, begging incomprehensibly into his gag.

I kicked the crate away.

With a jerk, he fell a short distance, screaming at the top of his lungs into his gag. His feet were still several inches off the floor, kicking madly to try and find something to balance on. I watched him thrash around helplessly, his pitiful cries filling the small room as all his weight strained at his wrists and shoulders. Eventually, he stopped kicking, his head slumping forward, sobbing quietly.

I reached up behind his head, unbuckling the gag from his mouth. He coughed hoarsely. “Jake, please, you gotta let me down, this really hurts.”

“Not until you tell me how you know about all this stuff,” I said, finally putting my plans in action. He was silent. “I’m gonna leave you here until you tell me everything.”

“Please,” he whispered.

“Nope. I don’t care if it takes days, you’re just gonna hang there.” I picked up the clamps and pried one open, standing in front of him. “Are you gonna talk?”

“Don’t make me do this,” he said softly. I snapped the clamp onto his left nipple. He hissed and then cried out at the renewed pain. Without comment I snapped the other one in place as well, stepping away as he started kicking and thrashing around again. “Jake, god, please, it hurts so much! Please, please, I’ll do whatever you want, please just let me down…”

“Tell me how you know about the stuff.”

He started shouting through his tears. “Don’t make me tell you!”

I opened the pack and pulled out another pair of vicious clamps, looking more like miniature version of jumper cables than the alligator clips that were on his chest now. He stopped kicking, staring at me wide eyed as I walked back up to him. “Tell me or else.”

His voice trembled. “You wouldn’t…” I grabbed his balls in my hand. He started to try and yank away, but I held them firmly, squeezing them until he moaned in pain, staying still. “No, please, not on there, please…” he begged through his tears.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t!” he shouted.

I pried the clamp open, pulling some of his sac between the jaws, then letting go.

Alex screamed so loud it felt like the entire shack was shaking, high pitched enough to shatter the windows if they still had glass left in them. I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like, having that thing biting into such sensitive flesh, helpless to do anything about it, but my only reaction was to stroke the hard thing between my legs. He sobbed and hung still again, the only acknowledgment made when I snapped the other clamp onto more of his ball sac was a soft whimper.

“Tell me or I’m going to leave you here all day.” The only sound coming from him were his sobs. “It’s gonna be really hot and the mosquitoes are gonna eat you alive.” He still didn’t answer me. “Tell me!” I shouted, bending down to feel in the backpack, pulling out the longer, single whip. Furious, I walked behind him with purpose, my head pounding, my arm tensed. “Tell me!” I screamed again, pulling the whip back and swinging it against his body with all of my strength. Alex jerked mightily, his body sent swinging by the force both of my blow and his reaction. It was a moment before he screamed, and when he did it was blood-curdling, a scream unlike any I had ever heard from him before, far more desperate and real than any other he ever let out. It shocked me for a second, not sure if that scream was just ringing in my ears or if he was doing it.

“Jake!” he said, when he finally caught his breath. “Please, Jake!”

“Just tell me,” I said softly.

“I can’t. I just can’t. Please, don’t make me tell you, I…I…”

“Why? Why don’t you just tell me?”

“I just can’t talk about it.”

I was silent for a moment, watching slowly stop swinging, his feet still dangling. “I’m going to whip you until you tell me.”

“God, no!” he shouted hoarsely. “You can’t hit me with that again, you don’t know what it feels like!” I reached out, touching the dark red line that the whip had drawn over the small of his back, wrapping around his side and ending with a purple splotch on his stomach. He jerked as I touched it, hissing in pain. “Please, it feels like you’re cutting me open. Just let me down, I…I can’t feel my hands.”

I pulled the whip back and with a sneer sent it cracking against his butt. He screamed instantly this time, another deep red welt raising on his skin. He started to cry hysterically. “God, please you have to stop!”

“Tell me,” I said in low growl, lashing him again higher on his back. I waited for his screaming to subside.

“I can’t!” he shouted hoarsely. “I can’t tell you, I promised I would never tell!”

“Never tell what?” I shouted, lashing him hard three more times, the whip cracking against his body, more dark red lines crisscrossing his back. He couldn’t even scream anymore, his shouts completely hoarse and nearly silent.

“Jake…” he whispered. “I can’t take it anymore.”

I whipped him again, the put the whip down on the floor, walking back in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands a dark shade of purple. He looked strange, all stretched out like that, his shoulders hunched in an odd way, his chest all stretched out, his head hanging forward between his arms. His dick was completely soft and limp, a thin trickle of blood leaking from where the last blow had wrapped around his back and cut him just above his groin.

“Tell me,” I said softly. “Just tell me and I’ll let you go.”

He nodded slowly, barely able to speak, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper so soft that I had to stand on the crate and put my ear right next to his mouth.

“It’s…it’s Jeremy’s stuff…”

I felt myself suddenly turn cold all over.

“Dad used to do it to him….”

My knees began to shake.

“I saw them one time…and Jeremy told me about it…”

The room began to spin.

“And…and…and I couldn’t understand…I was so stupid, I didn’t get it…and I told Mom that Dad was hurting him…and…and then they had a car accident….”

Everything went black.

********

My eyes fluttered open, the taste of blood in my mouth. The complete disorientation of waking up and not knowing I was and how I got there seized me, and I sat up suddenly, my head beginning to spin again. My foot hurt.

Then I saw it, Alex hanging from the rafter. I thought it was a dream at first, but to my horror I quickly realized it was for real. His eyes were closed, I wasn’t sure if he was even conscious.

“Alex?” I asked softly, my voice shaking. His eyes fluttered open, trying to speak but no sounds came out. Absolute and utter terror gripped me, forced me to my feet. I pushed the crate over trying to get him to put his feet up on it. He tried, but seemed to have a hard time balancing. With the strength found in fear I dashed up the ladder, getting myself out on the beam. “Hold on,” I said reassuringly to him, failing to reassure myself in the process. My hand was shaky as I put the key in the lock, slowly turning it until it clicked open, but with his weight still pulling the chain there was no way I could get it off. My stomach leapt into my throat.

“Alex you gotta stand on the crate,” I said urgently. I could see him trying. “Please, you gotta try, I can’t get you out!” His hands felt like ice. “Come on, do it!” I shouted desperately. His feet managed to touch the crate, a little slack forming in the chain for just a moment, which was long enough for me to slip the padlock out. The chain fed quickly around the beam, sending Alex crashing to the ground, where he lay completely still in a tangled heap of limbs. It took all my presence of mind not to jump down there, forcing myself to shimmy back and climb down the ladder.

“Alex!” I cried, tears coming down my face. “Please be ok, please be ok!” I ran over to him, touching his neck, wrapping my arms around his naked body. Feebly, he reached up and touched me, his hands still locked together. I undid them in a heartbeat, ripping off the clamps on his nipples and balls. He didn’t even flinch.

“Alex, please be ok, I’m so sorry!”

I put his head in my lap, cradling him like I remember my mother cradling me when I broke my arm falling from the monkey bars.

“You really did it,” he said softly, coughing.

“I really did what?” I asked, terrified that he meant that I really hurt him this time.

“You tortured it out of me. You…you really did it.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said softly, crying.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I wanted to tell someone, anyone, so bad for so long…and…and I couldn’t do it…and you made me tell you, you didn’t stop, even when I told you that I couldn’t feel my hands and that I couldn’t take it anymore you didn’t stop…and I knew you would really do it, you would keep going and I had no choice and…and…” He started to cry too, and I held him tightly in my hands, the sounds of our sobs filling the room. “Thanks,” he whispered, grabbing on to me tightly.

We remained in that embrace for a long time.