Unknownwriter

Dressing Down

Chapter One
New House, New Clothes

Sam Townsend had thoughts about dressing up and being tied up long before he moved to old house in Longacre that was to be his home from his fourteenth year onwards. It had all started some time before when he's watched television shows depicting people in various historical situations being captured and tied up, especially if the person being caught, was a young man, or better yet, a boy like Sam. For years that was pretty much enough for him, chopping and changing channels in the hopes of seeing something interesting, but, around the time he'd turned thirteen that all changed, thanks to his cousins Luke and Damien.

Now, with a new home, Sam was hoping to put all of those childish fantasies behind him, and despite the occasional lapse he was doing quite well, until the day he was told to clean out the attic, so he could make it into an extra room for the family.

The attic hadn't been used since before Sam and his family had moved in and was a complete mess. Or at least it seemed at first glance, however, as Sam started to look around it wasn't really that bad, apart from the dust, of course. It was, after all, pretty much the same as the loft space in their previous house had been. There the Townsend family had dumped all the things they'd outgrown, and didn't need anymore, and so, it seemed had the people who'd lived in their new house.

The first thing Sam discovered was a mirror, so he did what anyone newly teenage boy would have done, in the situation, he checked himself out, flexing his arms and generally checking over his steadily developing body, from every angle. The results of this weren't all that impressive, as Sam had only recently started puberty, and although he wasn't over weight there still wasn't all that much body mass to him. Nor was there any of the next thing Sam checked for. Hair. Other than on his head, and around the base of his groin, Sam was still completely hairless. His face had yet to see the razor, while his arms, and legs, had only the faintest of fuzz growing on them, if at all.

"I look like a little kid!" he sighed again, not as disappointed, as he probably should have been.

Returning to his work, Sam went through box after box of odds n' ends, before deciding what could be thrown out and what, could be sold, and what, if anything should be kept. Then, nearing the end of his task, Sam came upon a small padlocked trunk, that had the word "PRIVATE" stencilled across the top.

"Buried treasure!" the teenager wondered to himself, smiling, as he reached for his small tool kit so he could break the lock off.

Inside, there weren't any gold bars of jewels, but, instead just more clothes, folded neatly, plus once more the usual mixture of what appeared to be old school books.

"Oh great! School!" Sam sighed as he pulled out the books and flicked through them, for any sign as to whom they belonged too but, surprisingly there was no name written on the front, or on the inside, and nor was their any indication as to which school they'd been issued from. One thing Sam did notice was how old they had to be, given the way the handwriting was laid out inside, and the old fashioned topics that were spoken about inside them. Clearly whoever had written the essays contained inside, had never heard of, let alone been on, a 'media studies' course, like the one Sam himself would be doing, once he was enrolled in Longacre Comp, in the following weeks.

The books themselves soon lost Sam's interest as it moved over to the clothes themselves. Now, Sam had always been interested in old clothes so, given the age of the books, it was only naturally that he became interested in the clothes that went with them. These too, as he suspected, were school clothes but, definitely not like those he himself, had hanging in his closet downstairs. Well, shirt could have been, even if it was grey rather than Longacre Comp's white, but it couldn't be hidden beneath a sweatshirt, as it came with a V-neck jumper that was lined with the same colours as the tie Sam found along with a set on knee length grey socks, and shiny black shoes. However, the major difference was the below the waist items which consisted of everything the old fashioned schoolboy would need, and everything the modern one wouldn't touch with a barge pole. The white Y-front underpants just looked so alien to a teenager bought up in boxers – when he wasn't wearing a loin cloth that is! – and, as for the shorts, well, Sam had only seen those on old photos hanging on the wall of his last school where even the biggest boy, got to look like a first former with their bare knees.

And that was when the thought struck Sam. "I wonder." He muttered holding the shorts up to his waist and noting that they were about his size.

Suddenly Sam got all nervous and warm inside, just as he had all those times before he'd done something like this, and he knew right there and then, he would have to try the old clothes on.

Gathering up the prep school uniform, Sam hurried over to the mirror and, after closing the attic trap door, removed his usual clothes so he could, once more start dressing up and, even though it had been some months since he'd last dressed up, by the time he had his boxer shorts down, his skinny hairless legs, his heart was pounding. And it wasn't the only thing either. His prick was hard too.

Just baring his legs felt so good, just like it had done in his loin cloth, but there was something about the tightness of the Y-fronts, pressing into his groin and holding his buttocks firmly, that added to the sensation. Hell, they even managed to hold down his erection which is a lot more than the loin cloth had ever managed. And Sam instantly fell in love with the underpants and couldn't wait to find out what the shorts would be like.

Strangely although the idea of wearing the strange shorts appealed to Sam putting them on didn't give him the same sensations as the underpants had, especially as they too blocked his view of his erection, turning the hard, rampant, stick to little more than a lump in the clinging grey cords. Still, as Sam complete the outfit with the shirt, tie and jumper he started to appreciate the shorts as they moved with his legs while all the time clinging to his buttocks and groin especially when he bent over to pull the socks up.

Finished, Sam felt weird but that didn't stop him from trying to look at himself in the mirror, the only problem was, while the mirror had been perfect for seeing his upper body, while he checked his muscles it was totally useless for trying to get a full body view of his new look. There was only one thing for it, he would have to go downstairs and have a look in the mirror in his parents room.

Standing very still, Sam listened for a minute before he raised the trap door, and then listened again for any sounds from the floor below: "Hello?" he whispered, certain his voice could be heard below but not from the ground floor where his parents probably were.

No one responded, just as Sam suspected, so he crept down from the attic and scampered over to his parent's room, hoping that no one was about to see him all dressed up like a kid from yesterday. As he did so, he left the strange sensation of air blowing around his bare legs, and the shorts moving with his buttocks while his groin was held tight and fast in the same place as he moved.

Once inside the room, he quickly pulled down the curtains even though this meant he had to stand directly in front of each window to do so, and there were no net curtains yet to hide him from the street outside and the row of houses opposite. Then, only when that was done, he finally turned to the mirror and got the first full length view of himself dressed up.

Sam couldn't believe what he was seeing. There was his reflection in the mirror, and he knew it was him, as he recognised the face, but everything else was just so different and, younger. He looked so much younger. Somehow the neat clothes, combined with the shorts, just made him look so young. It had to be the bare legs, he reasoned to himself, looking at the long pale thighs that emerged from the bottom of the shorts, and continued down, across his knees, before the shins were tucked inside the long socks. His legs had never looked so young, so sleek, so smooth, and so slender as they did right then and there. The rest of him didn't look so bad either, and he started turning around to check out more of himself, from the way the shirt was pulled tight across his stomach, and the shorts pulled in his waist, to make him look slender, while, at the same time, coursing his buttocks, to become more and more prominent in a way that reminded Sam of his former neighbours.

Sam could only imagine what Luke and Damien Samuels would make of the way he was dressed now. They'd always thought he was a little kid, even though he was older than both the brothers, just not as outgoing as they were, not to mention having some ideas that just weren't normal. That had led to a parting meeting which had put Sam off everything he was now doing was more in his new home. Still, he knew what they'd do? They'd punish him. They'd spank him.

Rubbing the expanded front of his shorts, Sam looked around his parents room, and instantly spotted what he was looking for. His dad's large leather belt.

Picking it up, Sam leant forward and, reached around himself to stroke the leather across his corduroy clad rear. Instantly the fear, the excitement, and the anticipation of a possible spanking caused him to shiver violently and he became so lost in his world that, almost without thinking he, pulled the belt back and bought it down across his rear.

THWACK!

The shock of the first blow, made Sam wince, but that didn't stop him from doing the same thing again, just as soon as he was able to.

THWACK!

Even through the shorts and Y-fronts he was wearing the sting was already noticeable and starting to spread.

THWACK!

He had to pause after that blow, to regain his composure, before beginning again until he couldn't take anymore, and thrust his other hand down between his legs to start stroking himself in a way he had never been able to do while the Samuels brothers had spanked him.

THWACK!

It didn't take much more than that, before the inevitable happened. Despite, or more likely because of the pain he was inflicting on himself, Sam's prick started to throb nearly as much as his buttocks were, and then, with a great big shudder he came.

"Oh God!" the teenager exclaimed, as he squirted into the clothes he'd found, and which he knew, even as he stood panting and drained, that he'd be wearing as often as he could get away with it, just as he'd done with his loin cloth the previous summer.

Chapter Two
Start of the Indian Summer

In the final term of Sam's second year in senior school, his history class had studied the natives of various nations including, the great Native American Indian tribes. This, of course, probably wouldn't have been much to anyone else in the class, but to thirteen year old Sam Townsend, if gave rise to a whole heap of trouble for it appeared to legitimize, the thoughts about being tied up that he'd been having for nearly as long as he could remember.

A year or so before the Indian's came into his life, Sam had tried to get his parents to tie him up – as an experiment he told them – but with a rope wrapped loosely around his chest, he didn't feel all that tied up, and certainly not in the way he wanted to be, held prisoner, not that he could explain that part to his parents for he realised what he was thinking and reacting, probably wasn't normal for a boy his age.

Sam wasn't sure when he'd started masturbating to thoughts of being tied up, as it seemed like forever that he'd lay on his bed, naked, holding his hands behind his back, as if tied, and then rubbing his expanded front into the mattress. His mother had even caught him doing it, but had, apparently, not realised what he was doing.

His games had developed since then, but most of them involved him being tied up, by someone, or something, in next to no clothing, or perhaps none at all. By that time, he'd worked out that the less he wore then the more helpless he'd be, and the more excited that would make him, which is probably why the thought of a loin cloth appeared so much to him and why he ended up making one for himself to wear.

The costume, wasn't the first item of Native American items Sam made though, that was a bead necklace, that was actually part of his homework, and which made him able to stretch the truth of his task, far enough into making the loin cloth a few days later.

It turned out to be fairly easy to do. A thin cord tied around his waist held it up and it was little more than a strip of cloth that was pulled up between his legs, and threaded behind the cord in front and back, leaving a foot or so, of cloth hanging down over his groin and buttocks.

At first Sam only wore his loin cloth over his normal trousers but, as he probably should have expected, that didn't really give him the sensation he was after so, soon the trousers were gone to be replaced with his boxers until he realised those didn't work at all. Which only left one option. To wear the loin cloth on its own, just like a real Indian would have.

On the day, Sam was going to showcase his 'homework' he took great care in dressing himself and making sure the loin cloth fitted just right all over, and, at the same time, he had the same 'funny' feeling he'd had whenever he'd thought about tying himself up. The loin cloth wasn't even all that revealing, it just looked it. His genitals were well covered by the internal part of the loin cloth, while the front flap also came down over them, almost to his knees, hiding them even more. The same wasn't quite the same at the back, where the internal cloth tended to disappear between his buttocks, and the flap wasn't quite wide enough to cover both his cheeks at the same time, but that was okay. The parts of him that were bare, and which weren't normally, was the sides. Here anyone could see his bare flesh from his ankles all the way up to his head with only a tiny strap breaking it up around his waist.

Now all Sam had to do was get tied up and that's where his neighbours, the Samuels boys came in.

***

It was during the summer holidays when Sam, 'just happened' to mention the project he was working on to eleven year old Luke Samuels, having already checked that the slightly less trustworthy Damien, wasn't around.

"What's going to happen!" he explained to the barely interested younger boy, "is that I'm the Indian boy, who has been captured by the enemy tribe and is going to be held hostage. Got it."

"Whatever!" the blond boy sighed. "What do I have to do?"

Quickly, Sam explained, but, in his excitement he failed to notice the glint in Luke's eye, especially when he describe the loin cloth he'd be wearing and the fact Luke could tie him up.

"You ain't tying me up!" was the youngster's first comment, followed by "And I ain't dressing up neither."

"What you've got on is fine." Sam reassured him, lying slightly, "some of the Indian used to wear jeans and shirts anyway."

Soon it was agreed and once Sam had taken off the track suit he was wearing over his loin cloth – and Luke had had a good look at him – they got down to business, with Luke binding the older boy's hands behind his back with the rope, Sam had provided. Then, once that was done, Luke took up the slack rope and marched his prisoner over to the washing line.

"Stand there, prisoner!" the blond boy ordered while he ducked behind the line in order to tie the rope from Sam's hands to the bottom of the post.

"Okay, I'll be back!" the lad then said, before leaving.

Finally, Sam found himself tied up, in his loin cloth, and instantly the strange feeling in his belly started again and, although it hadn't been part of his plan, he was relieved, Luke had left for he'd felt his pricklet stiffen the instant the ropes had tightened on his wrists and he wasn't sure that was something he wanted to share with his neighbour. That said, he did like the idea that someone, could watch him struggling helpless, defenseless and powerless he just wasn't sure who, or why?

He wasn't left along for long, as Luke soon returned and he was armed with a powerful pump powered water pistol which he was soon happily using to drench his tied up Indian neighbour from head to foot. This had the advantage, Sam soon discovered, of making his pricklet go soft, which was good as it also made the loin cloth really cling to his buttocks, thighs and, of course, around the groin. It also gave Luke a terrible case of the giggles, that lasted for a good half hour, after which, he finally released his soaked, neighbour, without once wondering why Sam wasn't angry with him. Assuming the reason the elder boy ran inside was to dry off and change, while the real reason was something that would end with Sam getting a little bit wetter first.

Chapter Three
The Last Indian

The following weekend was wet, very wet, meaning Sam couldn't repeat the previous experience, at least not with another person. He could, however, try something out on his own.

Getting his bag of "Indian" items Sam went down to the garage, which he felt was more in keeping with his fantasy than his bedroom. Of course, moving through the house he wore his normal clothes but as soon as he entered the carport, he removed those and put on his loin cloth once more. Pulling the cloth up between his legs, under the belt, and then tying the belt as tightly as he could get it, before making the final adjustments.

Pulling out some rope, and a new item, a strip of cloth, Sam sat down on the mat placed on the concrete floor, and tied his ankles together. Then he rolled the cloth and placed the centre of it between his teeth, before fastening it behind his head as a gag, just like he'd seen in the old pictures of real Indian captives. Kneeling, he tied a long rope around his chest and upper arms, so his arms were pinned to his sides. Finally he picked up another coil of rope, for his hands and tied the end together, before pushing his wrists into the pre-made loops, behind his back.

Indian boy Sam was now bound and gagged in a kneeling position wearing just his loin cloth and nothing else. A loin cloth, that thanks to his position had slipped right up between his buttocks, so much so that any time he tried to move it would rub across the entrance to his most secret place, and cause the strangest sensation to surge through his nearly naked body.

Suddenly he heard footsteps outside, and turning his head, was able to watch figure moving up the driveway, though one of the gaps between the garage walls and the door. Instantly he attempted to free himself but, in his haste, just made the ropes around his hands tighter than they really were, helping to make him feel more helpless than he was.

A voice shouted something that Sam couldn't make out but which was clearly directed at the person now standing almost directly outside the garage who then answered in a voice that sent a shiver though the bound boy's body. It was Damien Samuels, and the instant Sam heard his voice he knew he was about to be caught, as all Damien had to do was peer through the gap and he'd see just what his neighbour was up to and Sam could do nothing about it. He couldn't even get the gag out of his mouth, let alone free himself.

However, as things turned out, whoever had called out, caused Damien to move away from the garage and, once more Sam was alone, bound, gagged and very aroused. The front of the loin cloth doing nothing to hide the erection that had seemingly grown harder the closer he'd come to being discovered. Then the garage door opened.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

Sam, who'd been in the middle of releasing his hands, looked up alarmed as Damien Samuels walked into the garage as if he owned it, and closed the door behind himself. "Luke told me you asked him to tie you up, but I didn't really believe him. Guess I do now, though."

The older of the two neighbouring boys was only slightly smaller in height than Sam himself was, despite being nearly eighteen months younger, but although he was leaner he was very muscular from playing endless games and sports, these being about the only thing he actually went to school for. He also had a reputation of something of a devil, despite his golden blond hair, and crystal blue eyes.

Wanting to appear as if there was little else he could do, Sam raised one knee, partly to hide his erection, and partly to help him up to his feet, while at the same time he continued trying to free his hands from behind his back.

"You know, it's a shame you asked Luke cos he never was any good at knots." Damien smiled, showing his teeth, in a look that made Sam shiver. "Still never mind, let me give you a hand."

Before Sam could think of a way to communicate that he was okay on his own, the twelve year old, had slipped behind him and was unfastening the loops around his wrists. Or so Sam thought anyway.

"Here's what you should have done." The blond boy said, suddenly, tugging on a cord that somehow dragged Sam's right wrist all the way around his back, towards his left elbow. "Then, you just need to do this...." The other wrist was pulled to the other elbow... ".... Then you can tie both of them off at once, and the prisoner can't get away, ever."

Even before the words were said, Sam knew they were true. He'd never managed to tie himself as tightly as he now was tied, and Luke hadn't even come close to making him quite this helpless. So much so that when Damien asked: "That's better isn't it?" he had to nod.

"Good! I thought so too. Now there's just one more thing to do. Don't go away now."

Sam was left wondering what was going on, as Damien ran back to the door, opened it, disappeared outside for a second and then came back in again, carrying a short stick.

"I bet your mum and dad don't know about you getting dressed up," he paused to look his captive up and down, "or rather un-dressed up, or dressed down, or whatever, like that, and then tying yourself up, do they."

Sam shock his head.

"I bet, if they did know they'd probably punish you for doing it, wouldn't they."

Sam shock his head again truthfully, as his parents weren't big on punishing him for anything he did, not that it matter too much to Damien who was on a roll.

"So, as I bet you don't want me to tell them, it looks like I'm going to have to punish you for them, aren't I?"

Confused Sam didn't quite understand what the slightly younger boy was about, and couldn't catch his eye to question him, as Damien had moved to his side and was looking in the other direction for a reason that soon became very clear.

THWACK!

The strike of the stick on Sam's practically bare bottom felt like an electric shock.

THWACK!

The second one made him jerk and bite down on his gag.

THWACK!

The third bought a tear to his eye.

THWACK!

The fourth made his bottom feel like it was on fire.

THWACK!

The fifth, only made thing worse.

THWACK!

The sixth made him cry.

THWA-----

The seventh, however, never really happened, as for reasons Sam couldn't tell, something caused Damien to not only miss his swing completely but to then, drop the stick and run off, panting, with a wet patch forming in the front of his track suit trousers.

***

It took Sam nearly two hours before he could finally free himself from the bondage he'd placed himself in, and which his next door neighbour had improved upon. Naturally the first thing he did was check his bottom in a mirror, and, found, not surprisingly that it was red and swollen, with the marks from the stick clearly visible around where the loin cloth hadn't covered him. Plus, when he removed the cloth, he was less surprised to see that not only was his pricklet still hard, but that the front of the loin cloth was damp from his own excitement.

Of course, given what had happen that should have been the last time Sam played such games but, of course, it wasn't.

Chapter Four
The Last Post

By now Sam was pretty sure it was the being tied up that he was interested in, rather than being a Native American, even though he still wonder about seeing himself dressed up in strange costumes it was always, now, when he was tied up. After all, he reasoned, modern boys didn't get tied up quite as much as those from adventure books or movies. The only difference now was, he made sure to do his experiments on his own, where he wouldn't be interrupted, or end up with a sore bottom.

One morning, with the rest of his family having left early, Sam decided to try one of his latest discoveries but, before he could do that, he had to be dressed for the occasion. Now with his loin cloth now a thing of history, where it belonged, Sam had reverted to something while still old fashioned, but which wouldn't look too out of place should anyone happen to see him (not that this was planned of course, but you never knew).

The Speedo swim suit was old and a little too small for the then thirteen year old but that was okay as it he rather liked it that way. It wasn't his though, as he had found it left behind at the swimming pool during a school trip there. At that time the other boys in their knee length board shorts had all laughed and joked at the skimpy bit of dark blue cloth, but Sam had seen the attraction instantly and, after waiting for the others to leave, he'd smuggled the tiny garment home, in his pocket.

Pulling off the boxers he slept in, Sam slipped the Speedo up his legs until it tightly encased him at front and back, hiding his modesty while, at the same time, leaving pretty much all of the rest of him totally bare. Then he reached down beside his bed and grabbed something else that looked out of place in his bedroom. His bike lock.

This too had been chosen with the duel purpose in mind. The first was, for it to be used as the designer's had intended but the other, was more personal as, having carefully measured what he wanted before going to the store to by the lock, Sam knew that it was the perfect length to go three times around his ankles and then be locked tight.

The bike lock was little more than plastic coated steel cable, with a welded on lock at one end, and the latch at the other which could be easily slotted together from any angle. This was, of course perfect, when being used to attach a bike to railings as it could be threaded through spokes or anything else, such as a boy's legs. This Sam now did, wrapping it around his legs twice before finishing off with a figure eight, that sent the lock between his ankles, where it snapped happily into place and would be impossible to remove without the key. But where was the key?

When he'd first started this game – which he'd called kidnap – Sam had always had the key with him, but then, as that soon became boring, he would then leave it further away so that he could pretend to be the kidnapped victim attempting to escape and, of course, having to get the key first to be able to do so. First it was on the bedside cabinet, then, having had a brain wave, he hung it from the nearest bedpost on a short cord, and then, on the furthest bedpost, for even more of a struggle. Then he got braver still and started putting it all over the house, forcing himself to, literally, hop to it. Now, he was going to try something different again.

After some thought Sam had decided that it would be more realistic if he was tied to the bed as, after all, what kidnapper would let their victim wonder around the house? And, then, if the key was on the floor, it would be like the kidnapper had dropped it. Of course, he'd have to make sure he could actually reach the key was he was chained down, but only just which is why he decided to just chain his ankles rather than his hands, as that would have just made things way too difficult.

Carefully working out the distances involved, Sam got out of bed and put the key in the middle of the floor, before climbing back onto the bed and using a length of chain and padlock – this was his original bike lock – fastened his locked ankles to end of his bed frame. Then, after a few seconds just laying there, he made his escape from his 'captures'.

Dragging himself to the side of the mattress with his hands, proved easy enough, then, lowered his head over the side of the bed. This proved to be quite tricky without his legs to counterbalance, but slowly he lowered himself down. His hands leading the way, bracing his body on the carpet until his shoulders came down to the carpet, where, he once more rested.

Sam's legs were held up in the air to the end of the bed, giving him the strange sensation of looking at his own knees raising up into the air. Not that he could enjoy it for long as all his weight was now pulling on the cable around his ankles. Still, he'd proved he could do it, and perhaps next time he'd tie his hands as well, for that extra sensation of being captured and bound. However, he had a problem.

When he'd measured out the distance he'd assumed that he'd be laying pretty much flat on the floor but, as it happened with his legs up high, only his shoulder blades were actually on the carpet, which drastically reduced his reach. This, naturally made the key a much tougher reach than he'd planned and, if his hands had been tied, then he'd have been well and truly stuck fast.

Using all the effort he could muster, Sam walked himself up onto his elbows and using his arms like legs, 'walked' himself backwards. Of course, his lower body, being anchored to the bed frame, couldn't move but he could stretch himself out, which is what he now did. The problem was, the second he attempted to reach out with one hand towards the key, he could no longer support the rest of his body, and he'd drop back down to the carpet. It was hopeless.

So, here Sam was. A thirteen year old boy, clad only in the skimpiest of bathing suits, his hands free, and with only his ankles chained up but, he was totally helpless. There was only one thing for it, he was going to have to get back onto the bed and try something else. Not that getting back onto the bed was going to be easy, but he had to try it. The only way he was going to be able to do it was to literally attempt to climb up his own legs.

Taking a grip on his shins, Sam made several attempts but all of them proved fruitless. Quite simply he lacked the upper body strength to complete the task, and just couldn't get a strong enough grip on his legs to get anywhere. And he was about to have another problem.

Suddenly, five minutes into this attempted escape, Sam had a very intense feeling that he was about to pee and, a split second later, the front door opened and his parents returned home, unexpectedly.

"Are you still in bed, Sam?" his mother asked, from the bottom of the stairs.

Sam didn't answer but he did attempt to twist to try and look at the door to the hall, but each time he tried he just twisted right back to laying on his back but, as he did this, it was with enough force to actually cause his bed to move slightly. And in the right direction.

Quickly realising what this meant, Sam did it again. And again.

"What's that noise? What are you doing up there?"

At the sound of his mother's footsteps coming up the stairs, Sam leapt into action, pulling the chain on his ankles, and successfully moving the bed just enough so he could actually reach the key. In what seemed like a split second from there, he had the key in the lock and his ankles free.

By this time Mrs. Townsend was already on the landing and striding towards Sam's room, however, when she opened the door, she found her son, sitting on the side of his bed wrapped in his bed sheet, and rubbing his eyes, apparently just having woken up. Of course, what she didn't notice was the red marks around Sam's ankles, or the wet stains on the front of the too small Speedo he was hiding under his bed clothes.

Chapter Five
Hazing

"Hey did you see that show on how the American kids used to get initiated at their schools?"

Time had moved on now and whilst still not really the best of friends, Sam was back on friendlier terms with the Samuels brothers. The incident with the loin cloth and Sam being spanked had apparently been forgotten or, at least it wasn't mentioned. Sam, of course, hadn't forgotten about it, but he wasn't going to mention it, or anything else that he'd done since and with good reason too.

On this occasion, the three of them had been, more or less thrown together, at an adults get together, which didn't interest any of them in the least, so they'd just sort out a corner and talked, which is how the subject of the recent movies they'd seen came up. Not that Sam had much to say on this subject as most of the things he saw, he saw for one reason and one reason alone. He watched them just in case a boy got tied up, which, didn't happened nearly as much as he hoped. Of course, he wasn't going to say anything about that to the two neighbour troublemakers who, apparently got to see far more interesting things than he did anyway. Still, when Damien used the word "initiated" he was instantly interested. "What happened?" he asked.

"They got tied up." Damien said matter of fatly.

Sam attempted not to appear too interested as he asked: "Why?"

"Apparently," Damien sighed, clearly not believing a word of what he was about to say, "they said it was something about 'binding' the new kids to the school, or some such nonsense."

"And they tied them up for that?" Sam pushed. "For how long?"

"All day, I think. Caught them first thing in the morning and then, only let them go when it was home time."

"All day?" Sam gasped, "They were tied up all day?"

"Yeah, and gagged too."

"They were gagged?" the elder boy gasped again.

"Yeah, course they were, otherwise they'd have shouted for help and stuff, wouldn't they?"

"I guess!" Sam let the matter drop, or he would have had Luke Samuels not then piped up.

"If they were tied up all day, then how did they go for a piss?" the eleven year old asked.

"Easy," his brother replied, "They were naked after all."

"Naked?" Sam squeaked.

"Of course," Damien shrugged, "Stopped them running away didn't it, if they were naked. Course you didn't see that on the telly. Didn't see nothing apart from their heads all gagged up with these little rubber balls, and sometimes their hands or ankles tied up, but nothing else."

"Rubber ball as gags?" Sam muttered, only to be over heard by Luke.

"Yeah that's stupid, how could you be gagged with a ball?"

"Easy," came the answer, "the older kids just got the younger ones to open their mouths by pinching them or something, and then they squashed the ball into their mouth, where it got bigger and the kids couldn't spit it out again, well, not when they'd put tape around their mouths anyway."

The two brothers laughed, and for a while, Sam joined in, but already his mind was working on ways to learn the information he'd just learnt, and he wasn't the only one either.

***

Later that week Sam got a message saying he'd left something around at the Samuels house but that the family were going out so they would leave it in the garage, and that the garage would be unlocked so he could just go around, after school and get it. This wasn't all that unusual so, Sam thought nothing of it and rather than go home first to change, went straight there from school, taking off and leaving his bag at the doorway so it would be less likely to knock anything over once he was inside. However, when he walked through the door that was the least of his problems.

The first sign that something wasn't right was when the light switch didn't work as Mr. Samuels was usually so good at keeping his house ship shape, still Sam wasn't worried, he knew his way around well enough, and it wasn't dark, so in he went, even allowing the spring loaded door to swing closed behind himself. The second it closed, they grabbed him.

The first thing Sam knew about this was when something was tied around his eyes, a hand came over his mouth, and a strangely rough voice whispered in his ear: "Be quiet or else!"

Hands appeared as if from nowhere, pulling the teenager off to one side. Sam was sure there was more than one person but he couldn't be certain just how many and soon had other things to worry about.

"To make sure you don't want to escape!" the same voice told him, "We're going to take your clothes. Resist and you'll get hurt. Got it?"

Sam was, at the same time both scared and excited. It was, after all, just like one of his dreams coming true. Often he'd thought about what it would be like to be forcibly undressed, but, he'd never actually experienced it as, after all, it wasn't something he could believable do on his own. Sole he'd only been able to imagine being told to strip, but now he was having that done for him with at least one set of hands holding him tight, while another removed his clothes, piece by piece.

It soon became clear that the captures hadn't planned this part of the operation all that clearly as it got to be a little messy, and, if he'd really wanted to, Sam could probably have escaped at several points when the hands that should have been holding him, were needed to help pull his shirt over his shoulders, or fumble with the tricky catch on his belt. Still, in time, they managed it, and one by one, Sam's clothes disappeared. His trousers dropping to his ankles where they were soon joined by his boxer shorts leaving him naked.

Strangely Sam expected something to be said about his semi-erection he was fairly sure was pointing out from his groin the moment it was exposed to his kidnappers but, instead, he had his hands pulled behind his back, where they were soon wrapped in some sort of cord. Then, almost at the same time, more rope was being wound around his ankles, and then his elbows were being tied together, also behind his back, and then his knees too.

"We're going to lay you on the floor!" he was then told, and sure enough, hands helped him down to the ground and rolled him onto his front – hiding his erection thankfully – but that wasn't all that happened as his feet were then pulled up behind his back and tied to his wrists, leaving him in what he knew was called a hog-tie, and was something else he'd never been able to do himself.

"Open your mouth!" he was told but he didn't, so someone pinched his left buttock until he yelled, and then stuffed a soft ball into his mouth before wrapping his lower face in tape, and then he was finally left alone.

Sam lay there on the floor of the neighbour's garage, bound, hog tied, gagged, blindfolded and naked. It was terrifying but, at the same time, exciting, as if his fantasy had come true, which it had. He could squirm and moan, but Sam could neither talk, or move.

"Okay!" said the voice, "We'll take off the blindfold now."

The tape was peeled from his eyes along with some of his eyebrows which caused him to tear a little, however when that had cleared and he had adjusted to the light, he wasn't all that surprised to see the Samuels brothers standing over him laughing at him bound on the floor.

"How you doing?" Luke laughed. "You sure look all tied up, right now?"

"Yeah," Damien said more straight faced, "We decided to see if that American initiation thing would work and, it looks like it would, don't you think?"

Sam moved as much as he could, which wasn't much and eventually he gave up at which point Luke turned to his brother and asked the question, Sam wanted to: "Are we really going to keep him tied up all day?"

"Maybe!" Damien smiled, "Or until someone misses him anyway."

The bound boy, naturally protested into his gag but, also naturally, he was ignored and the two brothers set about doing their chores as they would have done after a normal school day. The pair of them taking out their school bags and sitting down at a table in the corner started on their homework as if there was nothing at all abnormal about having a naked boy tied up just a short few feet away from them.

Slowly Sam found himself actually getting used to be tied up so tightly, which was good as it was clear no one had any inclination of untying him, even when the brother's finished their homework, and sat down to watch some TV. In fact, just like they'd promised, Sam stayed tied up until Mrs. Samuels came home to make her boy's dinner, but even then Sam wasn't released straight away. The two brothers actually heading into the kitchen without him, and only coming back once they'd finished their snacks. It was then that they set about releasing their hostage.

"We're going to let you go now," Damien told Sam, "But only cos your mum has phoned to ask if you're here, so we've got to, got it."

Sam, who was still gagged at this point, said nothing, as it was clear his capture hadn't finished speaking yet.

"But," Damien's face went as threatening as he could make it, "If you tell anyone what we did to you, then we'll get you back only loads worse and next time we tie you up, you'll be someplace where you'll never get out, and no one will find you, other than some people who'll do all sorts of dirty sex stuff to you so you won't want to be found. Got it!"

Naturally, Sam accepted this and nodded, but, even as the ropes were being removed from his trapped body, he couldn't help wondering just what would have happened to him, if someone with a dirty mind, did one day discover him all tied up and helpless.

"You can dress yourself!" Damien said as a parting shot, himself and his brother heading back into the house, leaving their now released prisoner to put the clothes they'd stripped from him, back on, meaning that they missed the real reason Sam hadn't stood up yet. This had nothing to do with the humiliation they assumed the older boy would feel from being stripped, bound and gagged, but rather the embarrassment, they themselves would have felt had they seen the rampant erection Sam was sporting, and which the thirteen year old would have to take care off before he could go home, or else he'd have a tent in his boxers all the way. That, at least, was something that didn't happen with his too-small Speedo.

Chapter Six
Chairing the Debate

A few weeks after Damien and Luke Samuels had tied him up Sam found himself at home alone while his parents attended to some important business in town. This business, it would later transpire, would lead to him moving to Longacre, but, at this time he had other, far more basic things on his mind. Such as tying himself up. In fact the nearly fourteen year old had been planning this adventure for some time, and had managed to get together a nice assortment of things he could use for this.

After checking he was alone in the house, and that the doors were all locked – the last thing he wanted was the Samuels brothers in on his latest trick – he quickly changed into his too small Speedo and got all his bits and pieces together from where he had them hidden all over the place, where, alone they wouldn't raise any suspicion. These he then took downstairs to the living room where he placed one of the high backed dinning room chairs directly in front of the TV.

Turning the TV on, but muting the sound, Sam set out his stall, placing each of the items near to the place where he'd soon be using them, before he got down to business, pretending to be the victim of some sort of kidnapping, although just how many boys get kidnapped in their swimwear he wasn't sure, but, there was a reason he wanted to wear something as skimpy his Speedos, and he'd be getting to that in a short while. First though, he started, as he normally did, with his ankles.

Sitting on the very front of the chair, Sam was able to bend down and, using a couple of small belts attached each of his ankles to one of the chairs front legs. Each belt, although short, was still long enough to go completely around his ankle and the wooden leg, twice, and then once more around the join between the two before being buckled at the back, under the chair. That last part, was the most difficult, especially for the second leg but it was essential that it was done like that, if Sam's reflection in the TV screen, was to look as if it was helplessly held in place. Then, for the final time in what he hoped would be quite a while, Sam stood up.

What the boy did next was a new thing for him, and was down to an item that had been doing the rounds at school and which, Damien Samuels had given him, as a joke, saying that Sam "looked so much like a girl" that perhaps "it would help him." The younger boy had run off at that point leaving Sam, somewhat shell shocked at being publicly teased by a someone his junior, that he didn't realise he was holding a vibrator for several minutes. Then, blushing at the thin pink, tube he held in his hand, he'd quickly stuffed it in his blazer pocket and tried to forget about it until he got home. Now, finally, he was going to put it to some use, albeit not the use the sex toy had been originally devised for.

Strangely sexually ignorant for his age, Sam hadn't actually been all that sure what a girl would do with a vibrator, and hadn't quite cottoned on to the penetration use of the device. Instead, he'd come to the conclusion that a girl would rub the ticking, tube over her privates and get joy that way. Therefore, he'd gone on to reason, if a girl could do that, they surely a boy could do so too and, after a few nights of experimentation he concluded that he was correct.

Peeling down the overly tight Speedo to his thighs, Sam took the vibrator and, after turning it to the first setting – 'occasional' – placed it into the gusset of his Speedo, before then pulling the garment back up over his loins. The vibrator fitted snugly into the little grove between his balls and his bottom, right in the junction between his legs, in such a way that he was barely aware it was there, although, as he knew, he soon would be VERY aware of it. But before that could happen he had to get the rest of himself ready.

Lifting up his arms, Sam took the longest, strongest, belt he could find and buckled it around his waist, and, of course, around the back of the chair. This, naturally pulled him all the way back on the seat and, just as he'd hoped, made his thighs taunt across the seat, with his knees unable to move, because of it, and the way his ankles were also strapped in place. Another belt then went around Sam's chest, as high up into his arm pits as he could get it and still fasten it, which made his torso incapable of moving.

It was all Sam could do now to reach over the small table just off to one side, so he could reach the final four things he would need. These included two more belts, one of which he fastened loosely to the very edge of the chair back, next to the seat, with the other one matching on the other side. Then, it was time to use something else the Samuels bothers had, inadvertently told him about. Picking up a small rubber ball, he pushed it into his mouth and then taped it into place. IN an instant he was effectively gagged, and although it didn't look quite as good as he'd imagined it would in his reflection -due to the ball not pushing out his cheeks as he thought it might – it was clear he wasn't going to be calling for help any time soon. Or, at least, he wouldn't be, once his hands were taken care off.

Carefully, Sam released the pin from the final two straps, before, one by one he threaded his hands into the loops of leather he'd left for them. Then, by curling his fingers back on themselves he was just able to reach the loose end and, give it a tug so the leather would tighten on his wrists. This he did, taking several attempts as they were needed, until the pins slipped back into place, a notch or two further down than they had been previously. The straps now tight around his wrists, and rendering him apparently helpless.

For several minutes Sam Townsend was happy just to sit in the chair savouring the sensation of being tied to it, while gagged, eventually though, he did attempt to move around but, just as he'd hoped, this was fruitless. He even made a couple of attempts to tip the chair over but found, to his surprise that he couldn't even do this as by strapping his waist back into the chair, he'd actually lifted his feet from the floor, so although his toes were on the carpet they couldn't push against it. Then the vibrator came on.

The sensation was unlike anything Sam had felt before. Even though he'd played the sex toy across his groin on many an occasion, then he'd had some control over it, and it had always been from the front. Now, with the vibrator trapped and held in place by his Speedo, with its massaging tip pressed tight into both his balls and, seemingly the root of his pricklet, it was unlike anything he'd felt before.

Looking at his reflection in the TV, Sam saw confirmation of what he already knew, his pricklet was hard and pushing up against his Speedo, but, he also saw something he hadn't realised. That the organ standing tall in his sole garment was also vibrating along with the motion of the sex toy that was stimulating it. And, what's more, just visible in the dark image, was the damp spot at the peek of the swimwear, where he his prick was oozing pre-cum like he'd never known it do before.

Then the vibrator shut itself off.

By this time, Sam suddenly found himself short of breath, but looking at the mantle piece clock, saw he'd already been tied up for nearly half an hour, and he hadn't even noticed, although that would explain why his jaw was already somewhat stiff from the improvised ball gag. Not that he could do anything about that, without freeing his hands, and he sure didn't want to do that yet. Not until he'd finished what he'd started, and for that, and that was to remain a prisoner for a good hour, at least.

Then the vibrator came back on again.

A series of violent shudders went right through Sam's taunt, sweaty body, or at least they would have had he not been strapped down to a chair. AS it was, the involuntary motion caused by the sex toy buzzing around in his too small Speedo, were enough to rock the chair up from its four legs and to titter it on the spot before it came right back down again, with a thump. Not that Sam noticed.

All thoughts of anything other than what was going on in his pants, vanished from Sam's head. Then, those thoughts vanished as well, until it was as if his head had been completely cleaned out of everything he knew, or had know, or would ever know. Already, his pricklet had spasmodic ejaculated its first load of thin semen into the lining of his old swimwear and now it was working itself up, rapidly to doing the same thing all over again. Only more so.

Sam attempted, at one point, to pull his hands out of the restraints he'd put them in, but with is fists balled due to the intense sensations he was feeling this was never going to happen, and, sure enough it didn't. He remained trapped right where he'd put himself, as yet more intense feelings rocketed throughout his body.

Then the vibrator shut itself down for the second time.

Shaking his head, to clear the sweat from his eyes, Sam glanced once more towards the clock, and was pleased to see that he'd broken his target for being self bound by fifteen minutes already which meant that the vibrator must have been doing its thing to him for over ten minutes, and yet, at the time it had felt like both half that, and at the same time, double. And it was only a matter of time before it did it all over again.

His breath curtailed by the ball in his mouth, Sam attempted to relax while he waited to be over stimulated all over again, but it was, as he found out, the hardest thing in the world to actually do. The more he tried not to think about the vibrator he was, practically sitting on then the more he ended up thinking about it. So that, when another ten minutes had passed, he was now willing it to begin all over again, even though he wasn't entirely sure he could actually survive another round of the battery operated stimulus. But he was about to find out.

The vibrator re-started.

This time it was all too much, even before it really got going. Within a split second of the light buzzing filling the otherwise silent room, a groan managed to escape from behind the bound boy's gag and, at that very same time, the wet spot on the front of his Speedos quickly spread to cover most of his loins, but especially the area around the tower that showed no sign of disappearing from the skin tight garment.

And that was pretty much all there was to Sam Townsend's first experience of auto bondage, but there was one thing certain it wasn't going to be the last for even in the minutes it took him to first recover himself and then to free himself from the straps, he was already thinking about what he was going to do next.

Chapter Seven
TO Tied to Leave

Months went past while Sam made various attempts to improve what he was doing, with some, or limited success, until he came to a point where he was barely leaving the house at which point his parents finally stepped in and told him to go outside. Of course, Mr and Mrs Townsend didn't realise the real reason Sam was staying as they thought he was upset about the move to Longacre they'd arranged and now told him about, and which would be happening in a few weeks. So, for whatever reason, one warm day, Sam found himself out in the street and almost, immediately bumping into little Luke Samuels.

"Where's Damien?" Sam asked, instantly, looking around himself as if he was about to be jumped at any second.

"Oh don't worry about him, he's off with his new mates, ain't he," the little blond lad said, flicking his head in order to keep his somewhat overly long hair out of his eyes. "Anyway, ain't see you around here much, what you been up to Sam?"

"Not much!" came the reply. "just hanging out with my mates and such like."

"Really!" shrugged Luke, not the slightest bit interested. "What do you do then? With these mates?"

"Oh, this and that. Games. Stuff like that?"

"Games? What games? I ain't never seen you over the park or the woods."

"Oh they aren't the sort of games that you can do in public," laughed Sam, starting to wonder off, but Luke wasn't about to leave it there.

"Why's that then? What sort of games are they? Bet they ain't nearly as good as the games me and Damien used to play?"

"Possibly!"

"Go on then tell me!" Luke caught the elder boy up, and grabbed his elbow. The semi-forceful touch was like electricity running through Sam's body, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Well, its just games of 'war' and stuff like that. Nothing you'd be interested in!"

"'War'!" the lad repeated, "you mean you fight each other and take prisoners and stuff like that?"

"Yeah, that's about it," Sam smiled thinking that it was sort of true, even if in the real games there was only one person playing. Himself.

"So, what happens, you know, when the prisoners get caught? What do you do to them?"

"Tie them up!" Sam said before he could help himself.

"Tied up! How?"

Realising he'd given a bit too much away, Sam tried his best teenaged standard reply, "Oh, you know!"

"Not really," Luke blushed for some reason, "Could you show me!"

"Show you? How?"

The smaller boy's voice dropped to a whisper: "Well you could show me how to tie someone up!"

"But you know that already, remember..." Sam didn't finish his sentence as apparently Luke didn't remember the times he had been a part of Sam being tied up, but then, that had mostly been his brother, hadn't it? A question that seemed to be confirmed by what Luke next suggested.

"Damien's got some rope and stuff that we could use. I could go and get it, if you want?"

Sam, unable to stop himself, nodded his head, and then watched as the small boy ran off back towards his house, where, instead of going in the front he slipped down the side and into the shed. A few minutes later, Luke was back, panting slightly but carrying a rucksack that was, it seemed filled with rope. "Okay!" the eleven year old said, "Show me."

Taking out the first bit of rope he could, Sam, attempted to demonstrate various knots and techniques for tying someone up, the only problem was, he didn't really know what he was doing as, in all his experiments, he hadn't really used that many ropes, as they were, he'd found just too difficult to use on your own.

"I still don't get it." Luke had, somewhat understandably said after fifteen minutes, "Wouldn't it be easier if you tied me up. Then I could see what you were doing, properly."

It was something Sam had never expected to happen and, to be honest, wasn't actually something he'd thought about. In all his fantasies he'd been the one being tied up, not the one doing the tying but, if he played it right, then once he'd shown little Luke what to do then, the lad would be surely wanting to try out what he'd learn and, to do that, then he'd have to tie Sam up, and that was an opportunity the elder boy wasn't going to miss. But first he was going to take some precautions.

After making sure Luke wasn't kidding, Sam suggested that they go somewhere more private so they wouldn't get interrupted, (by Damien) and then, once they were a short way into the near by woods, he told Luke to stand against a thin tree and proceeded to tie him too it.

Working slowly, Sam made sure all the knots went where they were meant to go, and did what they were supposed to go, while pausing every now and again so he could explain what he was doing to his eager student. Crossing the lad's wrists behind the tree, he tied them together in a basic slip knot, before clinching it tight – but not too tight – before adding an extra coil of cord around Luke's chest, followed by his ankles, his knees, and finally his waist, until he was pretty much held in place, but not uncomfortably so.

"So," Luke asked, testing the ropes that held him, "If this was a game with your mates, how long would you be tied up for."

Sam shrugged honestly, "Don't know. Depends on the game."

"Do you, you know, ever make it more interesting!"

"Interesting? How?"

"You know, like what Damien used to do to you, tying you up naked and stuff like that. DO you and your mates ever do stuff like that to each other when you're all tied up and can't do nothing about it?"

"Sometimes," lied Sam, a blush starting to peek out of the colour of his shirt that almost matched the one on the bound blond boy who now whispered his next suggestion.

"So, why don't we do that then. Make it more interesting. Of course you'll have to untie me first."

"Okay!" Sam said, not thinking straight at all, and in next to no time he had the younger boy free from the tree and, once more standing in front of him. Fully clothed.

"It's your turn to be tied up next." Luke announced, moving to the rucksack and picking it up. "Follow me!"

"Follow you? Where?" asked Sam but he was too late, Luke was already marching further into the woods and he had little real choice but to follow.

The smaller boy was waiting for him a hundred yards or so down the path and the moment he saw Sam approaching he gave his first order: "Okay you can take your clothes off here!"

The command stopped Sam in his tracks, so he could have a good look around, only he couldn't see the one thing he was expecting to see. The rucksack. Yet when he asked about it, all Luke said was that they didn't need it until Sam was naked, assuming he wasn't going to chicken out, of course.

After being challenged by the youngster there was little choice for Sam other than to go through with it, so he quickly toed off his shoes, tugged off his socks, followed by his T-shirt, and then after turning his back slightly pushed down both his trousers and the Speedos he'd taken to wearing as underpants, and then turning back to face Luke with his hands covering his groin.

"Shouldn't prisoners put their hands on their heads!" suggested Luke matter-of-factly and, Sam agreed as it was, after all how he imagined a recently captured prisoner would believe, so that's what he did. Lacing his fingers together behind his head, even though it left him totally exposed in front of the younger boy, in all his newly teenaged glory.

"Right now, I'm going to take you back to my headquarters. March!"

Naked, but otherwise free, Sam walked in front of Luke, back down the track they'd just come down and to the original spot where, only moments earlier he'd tied his first boy up. The journey now though, took a lot longer, as his bare feet didn't like the rough ground nearly as much as his trainers had, and that didn't even mention the loose branches that would swing back and forth against his bare flesh whenever they felt like it, which, as far as Sam was concerned was just too often.

Eventually, they came to the place Luke had in mind this, as it turned out, wasn't where they'd started from at all, but a distance from it, in a part of the woods that Sam hadn't been before, but, for the moment that didn't overly worry him, although perhaps it should have. Still, for the time being he was just enjoying the excitement of being a 'real' prisoner for the first time.

"Okay, prisoner, put your hands behind your back so I can tie you up."

The words, send a shiver down Sam's spine that made his semi erect pricklet wobble in front of his body, so it was with some relief that he got to turn his back to his younger tormentor. He even smiled thinking that, if he wasn't going to be tied to anything, that it would be relatively easy for him to escape when the time came that he'd had enough of the games and needed to do something more serious. Like masturbate. Of course, that wouldn't be easy when his hands were tied behind his back but he had ways around that. Or so he thought anyway.

"No not like that." Luke snapped, "Don't just put your hands behind your back, I wanted them up higher than that, and with your arms crossed like we had to do in juniors, only behind your back obviously. Yeah, that's it. Make sure your hands can hold onto the elbow of the other arm. Great."

This turned out not to be all that comfortable to do, but, Sam did his best, and as soon as he had his hands and arms in the position his mini-tormentor wanted, then Luke had some rope and was tying them in place.

There followed a fair bit of pulling and pushing, as Luke worked the rope in and out of Sam's arms in a way the teenager obviously couldn't see and could barely imagine. Still, but the time Luke had finished what he was doing, not only had he used more rope than Sam would have to tie them both up, but the elder boy's arms and hands, clearly weren't going anywhere, for a while. And he wasn't finished yet.

Taking up another rope, Luke threaded and wrapped this around one of Sam's upper arms, just below his shoulder, tucking the rope right into the other boy's arm pit, before, once it was tied off, running it across his back to the other arm, where he did the same thing. Then, when that arm was tied up tight, like the first one, he ran it back, and then back again, before as a final touch, creating two loops that went from one arm up over Sam's chest, across the far shoulder and then back again, so it looked like the boy was wearing some sort of rope harness. By this time Sam, could barely move his upper body, let alone his arms.

"Nearly done!" Luke announced, as he knelt down.

Still working from behind his captive, Luke, used another of his seemingly endless supply of ropes and cords to tie Sam's legs together. This he did, not at the ankles as expected, but higher up, around the teenager's knees. Of course, now Sam could watch and for the first time, get a real idea of just how good Luke was tying him up. The ropes weren't just wrapped around him they were clinched so they became as tight as they could possible get, before the loose ends were knotted off in such a way that he could barely see where the knots were, let alone either reach or undo them, even if he had his hands free.

"One more thing!" Luke got up and walked over to a nearby tree from where he removed a short plank of wood that had a single hole cut in the centre, a hinge on one side, and a hasp on the other. "Put your ankles together!" he said, as he opened the plank up and neatly pressed it up against Sam's ankles, before he closed it again, so the teenager's limbs were trapped in the centre. Then, from his pocket he produced a padlock which he used to lock the small stocks into place.

"There that should hold you." He said standing back up, "Of course, really I should have some chain or something holding the feet stocks in place to the dungeon wall, but, well we ain't got no walls have we!" he laughed, but all Sam could do was smile. "So how is it?"

"Tight!" the teenager replied, all hope of any sort of escape clearly gone now.

"It's meant to be." Pointed out Luke before he pointed out something that was even more obvious, "Seems like you don't mind it too much though, do you!"

Looking down at his own hardness, Sam couldn't think of anything to say, so didn't say anything which, in its own way, said everything that had to be said.

"You do like this stuff though don't you Sammy?" Luke eventually asked.

Sam tried to shrug off the question only to find he couldn't actually shrug: "It's okay." He eventually admitted.

"Bet your mum and dad wouldn't think that if they could see you now, would they." The lad joked.

"Guess not!"

"So, in that case, I guess, they'd thin you was being a bad boy for liking this stuff wouldn't they?"

"I guess so but..." Sam's words died when he caught something in the other boy's eye that he didn't quite like the look of, "What do you mean?"

"You should be punished."

"Punished? How?"

Luke smiled, "With a spanking of course."

"A spanking? You can't be serious?"

"Well, no, not a spanking as such!" smirked Luke, crouching down to adjust his own footwear, "More of a slippering, really!"

Naturally, Sam asked what that mean, only for the question to become pointless, as the little boy, took off one of his cheep rubber soled trainers, and, holding it by the heel, swished it through the air, into the palm of his other hand. WHACK!

"Hey, that's not part of the game." Sam protested.

"Is now!"

"But you can't spank me, I'm older than you."

"I know, that's why I'm not going to spank you." Luke smiled, "I'm going to slipper you, like a big boy."

"But..."

"There ain't no buts," butted in Luke, "Cos either you get slippered, or I just leave you here and then what will you do, all tied up, naked and stuff?"

On the surface it wasn't much of a choice but as Sam thought about it, there really wasn't a choice at all. After all, no one actually knew where he was, and, even if he hadn't been naked – not to mention erect – then he couldn't go home anyway, not all tied up. So he was stuck where he was unless he could free himself, and he already know that wasn't going to happen not with is arms so tightly tied behind his back, and the stocks padlocked on his feet. No, he was stuck alright, and Luke could do pretty much whatever he wanted, which, of course, the younger boy knew as well as he did.

"So what's it to be?"

Even though he had no options Sam still had an objection: "Spankings hurt!"

Luke smiled, as if to say 'they're supposed to', however what he did say was to offer an ultimatum, "Twelve strokes, take it or leave it?"

Sam, of course, had no choice but to accept.

"Bend over then," Luke instructed, "Lean against a tree if you have to, but make sure your bum sticks right out."

Sam complied, thankful of being offered the support as no sooner did he start leaning forward than his balance went, and seeing as he couldn't move his feet, he would have been sure to fall over if it wasn't for the tree that came to prop up his upper body. Mind you, a split second he was standing very straight again, just as soon as he felt the first strike from Luke's trainer.

THWACK!

"Ouch!" Sam yelped, as the sting quickly spread from where the rubber sole had struck his bottom.

"Bend back over, or I'll start again." Luke snapped forcing his helpless victim back into position for the second blow.

THWACK!

"Ow!" the teenager yelped but stayed in place. Just.

THWACK!

"Ouch! That hurts!" he complained but it made no difference.

THWACK!

"Ow-Ouch!" Sam's bottom was on fire, even though he'd been spanked before, this was, somehow different.

THWACK!

"Ow! Shit!" He yelled the second word added not from the actual slippering but because his knees had been shoved forward and had collided with the tree, and from there it was only a short twist of his body before he'd fallen all the way over and landed on the ground face down. Thankfully, given he couldn't soften his fall with his arms or feet, the ground where Sam fell was soft so he escaped any real injury, but that didn't stop him from getting so winded it took him a few seconds to get his breath back. By the time he'd done that, Luke had a question for him.

"Had enough!"

Naturally, with his knees skinned, and his arms cramped from being behind his back for so long, not to mention the burning sensation in his rear, Sam said he had.

"Well, if you don't want me to finish your slippering then you'll have to do something for me, instead."

"Anything?" Sam said, before adjusting it to, "What?"

"Lick my dick!"

Sam certainly hadn't expected that, so gave the only answer he could, "NO way!" but by then Luke was already standing over his prone body, with one hand rubbing the front of his jeans. Jeans that appeared to have a little more life in them than usual.

"You want me to finish the slippering then," He asked, adding, "Of course, I'll have to start from the beginning again, cos I've lost count."

"No please! Don't spank me." Sam said instantly.

"Well, in that case there's only one thing for it." A split second later Luke had shed most of his clothes and was standing in front of his now kneeling captive, wearing just his small boxer shorts that did little, if anything, to conceal the spike of his eleven year old erection, pushing against the thin cloth: "Go on then, like it!"

A shiver went through Sam's body as he closed his eyes and leant forward to planet a small, yet significant kiss, tight on the twitching ridge in the younger boy's underwear. His mouth soon filled with the strong sent of unwashed pubertal boy, and, as he pulled his head back he was subconsciously licking his lips.

"Well you liked that didn't you," Luke laughed, "Well you'll like this even more then won't you?"

With little more than that but with great dramatic flair, Luke shoved down his boxer shorts to stand ever bit as naked as Sam was. There, only a matter of a few inches from the elder boy's face was the eleven year old's very erect pricklet which, although smaller than Sam's somehow looked larger on the smaller boy's frame. And it was pointing right at Sam's mouth.

"Go on then. Suck it!" Luke commanded, moving his hips so his pricklet flicked from side to side.

Once more Sam licked his lips and then, more or less without thinking about it, leant forward and slid his mouth over the top of another boy's pricklet, taking the entire head inside, where it was soon engaged in a flicking contest with his tongue.

Luke sighed: "Oh yeah! Suck me!"

Sam did just as he was asked. His tongue finding its way past the engorged crown, so that it could pass further into his mouth, and allow his lips to move down the shaft until he had nearly all the rock hard, hot little organ inside his mouth.

"Oh yeah!" repeated Luke, his hands clasping the sides of his captive's head, to start the backwards and forwards motion that would work the entire length of his pricklet in and out of the tight, hot, sucking mouth until he couldn't take any more of it and his small, compact little body, started to tremble.

"Oh yeah. Coming!" he cried out, his fingers tightening, until he was pulling out some of the hairs from Sam's head.

At the same time, the teenager felt the short, stubby pricklet, start to twitch and the vibrate, until it was jerking about in his mouth so wildly that if Luke hadn't been holding on to him then he'd have probably have lost all contact with it although, as things were about to turn out, he was about to have more contact than he would have ever expected.

"Cum! Cum! Cum!" Luke chanted and then he did. Despite his total lack of pubic hair, or any other signs of puberty, the eleven year old, nonetheless managed to create just enough immature, thin sperm to coat the back of Sam's throat, and to slightly block the elder boy's air way.

"Jesus!" the lad then exclaimed, his body now so limp he could no longer hold onto the teenager, causing the pair of them to fall apart in, opposite directions. Sam falling back onto his haunches while Luke himself staggered, backwards into another tree, which he clutched at to hold himself upright while he caught his breath.

"Damn Shit!" he yelled, as he pulled himself together, "I didn't want to come in your mouth. I wanted to fuck you up the bum first. Crap!"

Sam, himself pulled together by those words looked up in disbelief at what the younger boy had said, only to tell from the disappointment on the boy's face that he wasn't kidding either. He had wanted to put his pricklet up the teenager's bottom and, that was something else, once more, that Sam hadn't really thought off until that moment. However, the moment he did think about it, he found his own, obviously untouched, prick, shuddering itself to a climax and sprayed his own slightly thicker, ejaculation, up and over his thighs.

Chapter Eight
A Short Trip Back to the Future

And so life in his new home continued for Sam Townsend, with the events with the Samuels brothers now firmly in his past, and no new friends to play the sorts of games he wanted to, he went on with his private life. All the while he went on with the normal things a fourteen year old would do his mind would forever be wondering into the realms of the things he wanted to do, and, strangely to be seen doing.

At school, Sam wondered what would happen if he turned up one day in the corduroy shorts? What would the other boys in his class think when they saw his bare legs from the tops of his shins emerging from the tops of his neat socks, up to the very upper most part of his thigh, before they finally disappeared into his shorts.

Then, if that wouldn't have been embarrassing enough, then what would they think if they saw the marks around his wrists and ankles, from his self bondage experiments or, even the marks across his bottom from his spanking things, not that, anyone at Longacre Comp would ever be seeing his bare bottom but, Sam did like to think about such events, and think about them happening to him, even though they gave him erections all the time. Thankfully, his too small swim wear took care of those from showing, too much.

The one thing that did surprise Sam was just how often Luke Samuels turned up in his imagination, dominating him. Tying him up. Spanking him, and, eventually, doing the one thing the younger boy had desperately wanted to do, but after being sucked off, had been unable to do. Yes, fourteen year old Sam Townsend, often masturbated to thoughts of his being fucked by a boy three years younger than himself.

It was, perhaps, to put these final thoughts into some sort of order that Sam tended to think of himself dressed like a little boy, in short trousers, more often than not being bullied by those who, although younger than him, would look older in their street clothes with, of course, long trousers. They were the ones that would make him – the little boy – do things to them that little boys weren't meant to do, such as sucking on their pricklets and, of course, being spanked on the bare bottom before being forced to take their pricklets up his naughty boy bottom.

He dreamt of being caught by those little boys and presented to an older youth and forced to suck of his much bigger prick. A prick so big that it would stretch his mouth while the little boys held him still so he couldn't escape the hard, rampant cock that was being pushed back and forth into and out of his mouth. Small fingers scooping up the cum that he was unable to swallow and pushing it into his already full mouth.

Sam dreamed of being kidnapped by a pupils in a boy's school and being forced to serve them in every way, dressed, of course in his shorts and very little else, while he did all the chores around the dorm and to the sexual needs of the boys who lived there both young and old.

He thought about being invited to a fancy dress party and wearing his school boy uniform, only to find himself lost on the way to the party and cornered by a gang of little rough boys, who would spank him – as they'd think that's what happened at the school they thought he went to – and then they'd make him perform sexual acts on them one by one. Then, when they'd finished with him, they'd leave him tied up in the gutter, his clothes shorts around his ankles, while thin pre-teen cum leaked from his mouth and spanked bright red bottom.

Thankfully for a boy with an over active imagination, Sam's parents soon started to work long, regular hours so their son found himself left at home for longer and longer periods alone which, of course suited him just fine and it wasn't long before he was indulging in his dress up fantasies all over the house. His favourite was, naturally, the prep school uniform, and it was this that he wore nearly all the time he was alone even when he wasn't thinking about, or acting out one of his fantasies. In fact, it wasn't long before he'd be as likely to be doing his homework, or the household chores neatly turned out as an old fashioned schoolboy, rather than as the teenager he really was.

Of course, Sam's private life remained private, and he would go to school like the rest of the boys his age, dressed in the same lifeless and shapeless clothes they did. Yet, even when he was dressed normally, he found that his walk was changing slightly. Thankfully no one else seemed to notice it, but Sam did, and he knew why too. The very tightness of the shorts and the Speedos he wore beneath them, tended to make him walk with more of a swish, in his gate as he tried to maintain room for his genitals inside the overly tight cloth. To add to that, there was the way he would extend his legs, so he could see the full length of his bare thighs as he walked around the house. Of course, outside of the house, no one saw his legs, but still he kept on doing it, as a reminder of what he would be doing the moment he got home.

Then. One day. The thing he feared most happened. He got caught.

It was a normal day, at least that's how it started out. Sam Townsend went to school and came home again as a fourteen year old, and then changed into being eleven year old 'Sammy', the cheeky, little prep school boy, up for a bit of mischief with his chums or, with the bigger boys. So there he was, dressed up in all his little schoolboy finery, when there was a knock at the door.

Instantly, Sam's heart gave a little jump. He certainly wasn't expecting anyone, and, normally wouldn't have thought about answering it, but he'd just walked across the hallway and it was highly probably that whoever it was would have seen there was someone inside. As if to answer that thought the knocking on the door resumed. Louder.

Sneaking over to the window, Sam looked out, and just about caught sight of the back of a messenger of some sort standing on the doorstep with a parcel, and signing sheet in his hand, while a bicycle rested against the front gate. Then, as he backed away from the window the messenger looked right up at him, and had no choice but to answer the door, dressed as he was. There wasn't any time to nip upstairs for his own teenager clothes without passing the front door and that would only make the messenger madder.

Checking himself in the mirror, Sam, opened the door and asked, as nicely as he could, and with as high as voice as he could: "Can I help you, sir!"

The delivery man just looked at him, and as he did, Sam realised one thing straight away. The delivery man wasn't a man at all, but a boy, well a youth, who couldn't have been all that much older than the real Sam was. Thankfully, Sam didn't recognise him, and could only hope the same was true back.

"Are you parent's home?" the youth asked, looking past Sam into the empty house.

"No, sir!" the lad replied, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"Then I guess you'll have to do, the parcel is probably for you anyway."

"For me?" Sam replied more than a little surprised.

"that's what it says here, kid!" the youth said, turning the parcel towards the apparent youngster. "See: 'For the Young Gentleman' and I guess that's you, ain't it?"

"Yes sir!"

"That's what I thought!" the youth smiled, "Funny I've never seen around here, though!"

A shiver ran though Sam's body, and he wondered if the youth could, somehow see through him. Could he tell that he was older than he was pretending to be, but then, on the other hand, Sam was sure he'd never seen the youth before, so why should he have seen him.

"We only moved in a short while ago." He explained, trying to keep his voice calm, as he added a lie to the truth, "And I have been away at boarding school!"

"Boarding school eh!" the youth nodded, "Well that explains what you've got on, I guess."

Sam Smiled at him, not sure what he could say to that, other than to wonder, that if he was dressed in the jeans and t-shirt with the cut off arms, gold chain around the neck and turned backwards baseball cap, if the two of them would look the same age.

"Hey," the youth said suddenly, "How old are you kid?"

Sam blushed: "Why?"

"Cos if you're under ten then you can't sign for the package, and I've got to come back when your parents are in, that's why?"

"Oh!" sighed Sam, "I'm four...." He caught himself just as the youth raised an eyebrow, "Eleven!"

"Eleven! You sure?"

"Yes Sir. Honest."

"Okay then, sign on the line and the package is yours."

Sam reached out for the offered pen, his hand just brushing across the youth's in a way that made his body tingle. The same tingle that returned when he looked up from writing his name, and found himself looking directly into the youth's eyes.

"Thanks!" Sam mumbled backing inside the house and closing the door as quickly as he could, fully away the front of his shorts had started to rise.

He stood there, his back against the door, for several minutes thinking about the encounter until, finally, he remembered the parcel he was holding and, assuming, that it was, indeed meant for him, he opened it.

Inside the padded envelope, there was even more padding, a second package and a short typed note, folded right in the centre. Reading it sent shivers down Sam's spine: "I know what you do when you're alone!" it said.

Sam flushed red, and felt dizzy, but didn't quite understand. What did they know, and what did they mean. And who were they? What had they seen? What did they know? Perhaps the box inside the package would tell him.

Slowly, Sam opened up the second package and pulled out something the shrink-wrap around it called "The intruder." And although Sam had never seen one before, he, like every other school boy – whether they be fourteen or eleven – had heard about them and therefore knew straight away what it was he was holding. It was a dildo. Which led to the obvious question as to why someone would send him a dildo?

Chapter Nine
A Schoolboy's Best Friend

For nearly two weeks Sam remained a teenager at all times. Never once, during that time did he venture near his hidden stash of short trousered school boy costume, so scared was he by being caught not once, it seemed but apparently twice. First there was the sixteen year old delivery youth who, seemed to have accepted him as a little schoolboy, but there was also the anonymous sender of the note, with its sexual present, who clearly knew more. Yet, strangely t was the delivery youth that seemed scarier. What if Sam bumped into the youth, when he was dressed as himself, or what if the youth delivered something else to the house, and someone else answered the door and he asked about the "little boy".

Yet as the time passed and nothing happened, Sam found himself drawn back into his secret world. Sure he'd been scared, but with a teenage libido pushing to get out, it would only be a matter of time before he had to give in to his innermost desires once more. And, by the time the two weeks were nearly up, Sam started to think about his long bare legs and all the things that went with it.

By the time a fortnight had passed, Sam was thinking about what would have happened if the delivery boy had spotted his secret and just what he could have done, to make the youth forget what he'd seen and not tell anyone. Sam's mind travelled back to what had happened with little Luke Samuels and how he could have offered the youth a blow job.

The thoughts of offering to service the delivery boy continued to build up steam inside Sam's head, even though he realised there would be one problem and that was, in order to satisfy the youth, Sam would have to perform a great blow job, just like the little prep school slut he was pretending to be while, of course, in reality he'd only actually performed the act once, and then not very well. Then, of course, there was the fact that on that occasion the recipient had been a young boy with a young boy's pricklet, while the youth most certainly wasn't a little boy, and judging from the bulge he'd had in his jeans, had a fully mature prick, rather than a little kid's 'willy'.

By the time Sam had succumbed to this new fantasy of the delivery youth wanting a blow job, he was already dressing up, in his short trousers and almost willing it to happen. At least in his fantasies he was. Reality was, another matter, but when Sam got in these sorts of moods then reality was the last thing on his mind. It just felt so great to be dressed up again, and just rubbing his hands on his bare thighs, below the hem of his shorts, made his prick go hard inside his Speedo, until it pushed out the fly of the shorts enough to be noticed and, no sooner had the apparent preteen touched his very teenaged groin then the inside of the shorts were flooded with cum.

So it was that, soon naughty scamp schoolboy 'Sammy' was back and with his parents hard at work Sam found himself once more dressing up, masturbating, and then continuing with his life, watching TV, doing his homework, or doing his chores, in his short trousered schoolboy uniform.

In his mind he was the 'fag' of a bigger, stronger boy – more often or not, played by the delivery boy – and spent his time doing the chores the youth ordered him to (actually most of them came from his mother, but that didn't work as well as a fantasy!) So, he'd empty the bins, wash the dishes, vacuumed the carpets, dusted, and cleaned up. All the duties performed now in his shorts, as if he was a little 'fag'.

The most daring thing he probably did was to collect the local paper from wherever it was the local paper boy ended up throwing it which wasn't, more often than not, the doorstep. This, of course, meant that Sam would have to go outside of the house to find it in the front garden. Naturally this would expose him to anyone that happened to be walking past, if only for a few seconds. Not that anyone ever was. But the thrill was there that they would be. Although, along with the thrill was also the fear of being caught, again.

Once inside again, Sammy would continue his chores, the first of which would be to remove all the junk mail from the centre of the paper, so his dad wouldn't launch, yet again, into how it was all a 'waste of paper' and how 'no one ever reads it' before dumping it all into the recycle bin. However, when Sam did this one day, a familiar looking padded envelope fell out of the paper along with all the regular brightly colour rubbish.

"For the Young Gentlemen!" it again said on the top but there was nothing else on it yet, Sam knew instinctively it was for him, and opened it.

Inside, he was strangely surprised to find not a note and a sex toy but, instead a blank silver DVD.

For a second, or perhaps two, Sam thinks about throwing the DVD away without watching it, but deep down he knows he is going to and sure enough, a few minutes later – after checking the house is secure – he slips the disc into the player.

For a minute or so after the player recognised the disc as being in video format, the screen continues to be completely blank but then, suddenly it burst into life, and what life. Sam nearly falls off the stool on which he'd perched himself, as the largest prick he'd ever seen filled the screen from the bottom left of the picture to almost the upper right. Then, it wasn't alone. A pair of lips appeared and started to swallow the prick. All of it.

The lips moved down from the big purple tip, slowly pausing half way down, and then continued. They were unpainted, and the skin of the cheeks that went with them were soft and smooth, not looking at all famine, and not that old either. In fact, Sam realised with a shock, they looked like the lips of a young boy. A young boy whose cheeks were sunken, and straining to contain the large prick in his mouth, and yet, at the same time, he – whoever he was – seemed intent on taking even more of it into his mouth.

As the lips descended, there was a small amount of trouble, when the lad's cheeks blew out a slight cough, causing spit to run out the side of his mouth and down the large shaft, but even that didn't stop what he was doing, and a few seconds later, as the camera zoomed in, he continued down the prick.

The young cock-sucker on the screen was clearly struggling but forced himself down, until the end of the cock had to be in his throat as a cute little nose – an obviously boyish nose – was buried in a bush of dark pubic hair. The entire prick clearly inside his young mouth.

"Shit!" Sam groaned out of character in the shock of seeing someone deep throat for the first time. A practise that he had long thought impossible, and yet here it was played out in front of him. In full colour. And it wasn't over yet.

For a few seconds the lad on the screen stayed still, no doubt to concentrate on his breathing, and then, slowly, he started to move again. His cheeks flexing, lips wiggling, and then he clearly swallowed, no once, but twice, three times until cum started to appear at the sides of his mouth and, finally the lad pulled back to leave a stream of cum all along the large prick. Then, just as his mouth cleared the shiny, wet end, he smiled, clearly pleased with what he'd done.

Slowly the camera pulled back, and while it was always careful not to show too much it was soon clear to, Sam, from the bare thigh and the grey socks, pulled up tight to the lad's shapely knees that the person he's just watch deep throat the well built man, was none other than a little school boy like himself, even if he did look somewhat larger than you'd have expected. Of course it could be that the man hadn't been as tall as his prick would have suggested but, still. The boy, even kneeling down, was clearly nearly the same size as the adult and there could only be one way that could happen. If he was a teenager dressed like a little boy.

It took a few minutes for this reality to sink into Sam's mind, but once it had, he came to start to wonder about an obvious conclusion. Before he'd seen the tape, he hadn't thought deep throat was possible, but now he knew someone his age could do it, did that mean that he would be able to do it. Or more to the point, just how much of a prick could he get in his mouth, and throat.

Even without thinking about it, Sam tried putting his finger into his throat but that just made him gag, yet, the more he did it then the more he got used to it, and after a while the gag reflex started to subside. This was just as well for it was about then he remembered something much more like a prick than his finger. The vibrator he'd been sent.

Fetching the sex toy from where it had remained hidden since he'd first received it, Sam looked it over. It wasn't as big as he remembered it, which was good, being only very slightly larger than his own erection that was, naturally, swelling out the front of both his Speedo and the shorts he wore. So, in theory, at least, it should be easier to take in his mouth than a real prick.

And so another line in Sam's fantasy starts to take shape and once more it involves the delivery youth, only now he doesn't leave but pushes his way inside past the apparently small boy, and demands a blow job. 'Sammy' refuses of course, but he is powerless to resist as the bigger youth picks him up and throws him onto the couch, where after a short struggle, Sammy ends up, laying with his head dangling off the edge, looking up and the strong youth standing over him, unzipping his jeans.

Pressing his lips tightly together, Sammy shakes his head from side to side as the end of the youth's prick presses to his face. Yet it isn't long before he can't resist any longer and he opens up to allow the plastic tasting object between his lips and into his mouth.

Soon the head of the prick/vibrator is pressing into the back of his throat where it stops but, as the pressure increases soon it is pushing past that barrier and as Sammy swallows, it moves into the schoolboy's throat.

"MMmmmgffff!" Sammy gargles as the prick/vibrator moves deeper into his throat, moving slower now, backwards and forwards yet always managing to make more and more progress as Sammy becomes more used to the intrusion and to even accommodate it.

Then, as the passion starts to rise so does the pace. Sammy having trouble breathing as his throat is worked by the unseen force of his imaginary youth. In his mind's eye, he can see the large, round balls bouncing against his nose as the long, hard prick/vibrator moves ever faster back and forth inside his mouth.

Sammy struggles to take all he is given but he's been overpowered and its now his duty as a dirty little school boy to service this larger, rampant youth, as best he can or else he'd be 'for it', whatever 'it' is so he does his best.

Then, finally it is all over. With the prick/vibrator as far down his throat as it would go, everyone comes. The imaginary youth sending thick floods of rich sperm down into Sam stomach, while at the exact same time, Sammy himself unloads himself into his shorts.

Slowly, the prick/vibrator is removed from Sam's mouth covered in spit and invisible cum, that drips back onto the exhausted lad's face as he lay panting and exhausted on the sofa, with a big wet patch spreading over the front of his old fashioned, regulation school shorts.

Chapter Ten
Greg Delivers

"Hello Sammy!"

The words made Sam freeze on the spot. No one called him that. No one. Yet someone just had. Slowly he turned around.

"Oh great it is you Sammy, I wasn't sure when I first saw you cos of the long trousers and stuff."

Self consciously, Sam looked down at the clothes he was wearing but could find nothing wrong with them, so was forced to look back up again, directly into the face of the delivery youth. "Hello!" he said.

"Yeah, hi, how you doing, kid?" the youth said.

"Fine!" Sam said, taking another look around him to make sure there was no one who knew him nearby before he went on the counter offensive. "I don't wear my uniform at the weekend, just at home after school."

The youth looked at him for a moment then said. "Oh right, year, I see, well its good that I bumped into you cos Marc wanted me to ask you something."

Sam struggled not to panic: "Marc? Who's Marc?"

"Marc's my little brother, and I'm Greg by the way."

"Hello Greg!" Sam said, wondering where this was leading.

"Anyway, like I said Marc's my little brother only he's a real pain-in-the-arse and not well behaved like you are so I told him all about you and how well behaved you are for a little kid, and why couldn't he be like that and so on..."

There was something Sam had to ask just to be sure he was safe: "How old is Marc then?"

"Eleven...no wait... he's twelve. That's right. Twelve. A bit older than you like I said."

"And, what did he want to know?"

"Everything, the little bugger wants to know everything, that's why I have to...." Suddenly Greg blushed, "Anyway, I told him that when I saw you again I'd ask you about it?"

"About what?" Sam asked, amused by how tongue tied the previously so self assured youth now was for some reason, especially when he didn't have anything to hide, unlike Sam.

"Oh about you getting spanked, cos Marc says the only way a kid would behave like what you do was cos they'd be spanked if they didn't, but I told him that no one is allowed to spank kids no more, or else, if they was, then I'd have spanked him – Marc that is – every damn day instead of.... Anyway, so do you, you know, get spanked and stuff. Marc says they probably spank you at home even if they don't at school. Is that right?"

Sam did think about telling the truth, well not all the truth, but enough to end the conversation but, despite his being normally dressed he liked the way the youth, only slightly older than himself, was talking to him, so, despite knowing better, he confirmed that, indeed, he was spanked.

"Really?" Greg, exclaimed, "Damn. Marc's going to love that."

"Love what?"

"You getting spanked!" on spotting the strange look he was getting Greg, struggled to clarify what he'd meant, "I mean, hearing that you get spanked not that he'd enjoy you getting spanked, or anything, you know."

"That's okay." Sam laughed, "I don't mind!"

"Don't mind what? Being spanked? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Sure! But it's not like everyone knowing about it, you just get used to it that's all."

"But don't it hurt being spanked."

"I little" Sam shrugged, "but, like I said you get used to it."

"What, you mean you don't mind being spanked, Jeez, that's just what Marc said, you say. Next you'll be telling me that you like it."

Sam smiled his best little 'Sammy' smile.

"Oh shit!" Greg sighed, before thinking more about it, "But don't it hurt your bum. You get spanked on the bum, right!"

"Sure, always and it does sting a bit," Sam repeated from one of the less historic books he'd read on the subject, "But it makes me feel good in other places."

"What 'other places'?" Greg started to ask, but then changed his mind, "No wait, don't tell me. I can guess."

"Weren't you ever spanked?" Sam suddenly asked as a thought came to him. A way to get one of his fantasies to come true, at least partly.

"No!"

"What about Marc?"

Greg shook his head. Or rather the backwards baseball cap he was wearing. "No him neither!"

"But, you said you had wanted to spank him before, what is stopping you?"

"Wouldn't know where to start? You're the first person I've every met who gets spanked."

"Well," Sam dropped his voice to a whisper, forcing the youth to lean in closer, "do you want to find out what a spanking is like, if you do, I could help!"

"How? I'm too old to get a spanking."

"You may be..."

"Marc's too old too really."

"I didn't me you, or your brother."

"Then who?"

Sam didn't say anything. He didn't have to. All he had to do was arch his eyebrows a bit, and before long Greg was putting two and two together. "You mean? I could? Spank you?"

"Sure, why not. One more spanking isn't going to hurt me, is it?" Sam said, somewhat hopefully.

Greg still wasn't convinced, and started looking around: "Yeah but what if someone thought I was bullying you or something."

"Who's going to see? We could go to my house. There's no one there anyway just give me half an hour to get there and set things up, okay?"

"Sure!" the youth suddenly smiled. "Why not? See you Sammy!"

***

"Hello Greg. Nice to see you again." Sammy opened the front door for his teenage visitor.

"Hi Sammy," the youth replied, looking him up and down, "I see you dressed for the occasion."

"Oh, I always get spanking in my school uniform." Sammy explained, blushing despite this actually being the truth. Sort of.

"So," Greg said, when silence fell between them, "How are we going to do this, then? What do I have to do?"

"Well, its really very simple. All you have to do is tell me what you are spanking me for, then I bend over and you spank me."

"With what?"

"With what, what?"

"I mean, do I just spank you with my hand, or do I use something?"

"Oh, good question." Sammy nodded, having thought about that very question but not daring to mention it this first time being spanked by someone. Still now Greg had, it only seemed right to do the job properly. He asked Greg to go into the living room while he popped upstairs for a moment. There, in his room, he went straight to one of his secret hideaways, and removed, the two items he had most like to use on himself. Then, he went back downstairs to announce that these were the items that were used on him.

"Really," Greg said, turning the items over in his hands, "An old slipper and a ping pong bat."

"Yeah, one's for a slippering, and the other for a paddling." Sam explained, fidgeting slightly on the spot.

"Okay, then, So what's next?"

"Now you have to tell me to get ready for my spanking."

"Okay, then, get ready for your spanking."

"No," Sam shook his head, "Not like that, you've got to be more in charge and tell me to do."

"Okay," Greg's face went hard, "Get ready for your spanking, boy!"

Sam actually shivered at the words, but tried not to let it show as he unsnapped the waist of this shorts, ran the zip and then pushed the grey school shorts down to his ankles, where he stepped out of them. Carefully he placed the shorts on the back of a nearby chair, and turned back to the rather surprised youth, with his hands neatly clasped behind his back, in his tiny underpants.

"What..." stammered Greg, "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for my spanking, of course." Sam confirmed, "Only big boys get spanked on their trousers. Little boys, in shorts, have to take them down for theirs."

"Little boys!" Greg repeated, looking down at the clearly visible lump in the front of the younger boys underwear, that didn't look quite as little as he'd imagined it would do. "Okay, Now what?"

Without saying anything Sam walked over to the dinning room table and clutched one of the high back chairs. This he then moved into the middle of the room, directly in front of the standing youth. Then, before Greg could think the chair was for him to sit in, Sam climbed onto, and resting his knees on the seat, deftly bent over the chair back.

"Ah, I see!" Greg mumbled, as he watched Sam shuffle forward until his chin was on the chair back, and his bottom was pushed all the way out, at the back, all nicely curved out, inside the tight, clinging, underpants. "What do I do?"

"Spank me." Sam said without turning around. "Start with the slipper."

Barely able to take his eyes from the target laid out before him, Greg, picked up the old, slipper, and, after a few seconds of experimenting, worked out that he had to hold it by the heel, and gave an slap into the palm of his other hand. The sudden sound making both the boys jump. "How many?" he asked.

"About a dozen to start with."

"A dozen? Okay then. Here they come!"

Thwack! Thwack!

Sam took the first punishment he'd ever had from another boy rather well, but then they had been delivered so softly that he was actually disappointed with them. So disappointed that he had to say something about it.

"Is that it?" he asked, adding truthfully, "I could do better myself!"

"You sure?"

"Course I'm sure," Samuel snapped through to the surface, "It's meant to be a punishment so its got to hurt hasn't it, or there's no point in doing it, is there."

"Okay." Greg said, taking a half step back, "But remember you asked for it."

THWACK!

The slipper struck the left side of Sam's underpants with so much that it drove the breath from his body. Breath that didn't have the chance to get back, as another blow quickly followed.

THWACK!

Landing on the right side, it even the sting out, and caused the boy to audibly gasp.

"Was that too hard?" Greg asked, suddenly concerned.

"No!" Sam said, "Do it like that the next time...2

THWACK!

The next time arrived before Sam was ready, and he cried out: "Oww!"

This time, when Sam cried out, Greg didn't stop. He delivered another one.

THWACK!

"Ow-ch!"

There was no pause after that one. No need for Sam to give instructions to the youth, as Greg had found it was just as easy as he'd been told to spank a boy.

THWACK!

"Oww!"

In between blows, Greg's hand swung high in the hair, behind his head before coming down in a big, powerful arc, right onto the bottom of the bent over younger boy, in front of him.

THWACK!

"Ow-ch!"

The thin material of the small, and tight underpants offered no protection to the well rounded buttocks beneath and Sam was getting to feel each and every one of the blows that he was getting from his delivery guy.

THWACK!

"Ow-ww!"

On one hand he wanted Greg to stop, but at the same time he didn't. It was, after all, something he'd wanted to happen, that he'd even dreamed about happening, and which he'd made happen. And, there was also a none too small matter of his own teenaged pride – not to mention the apparent pre-teen pride of 'Sammy' – which just couldn't stop the spanking because it hurt. No, that would never do.

THWACK!

"Ouch! Ow!"

And, on top of all that was the simple fact that, despite the initial pain, he was actually enjoying it. At least on one level. Sure, his pricklet, wasn't as hard as it had been when he'd spank himself, but, it was hard and even as the blows continued to come down, he could feel it twitching inside his underwear.

THWACK! THWACK!

"Ow! Ouch!"

The double blow came as a surprised and he thought about stopping it there and then, but, of course he didn't mainly because he didn't need to, as Greg put the slipper down.

"That's twelve!" Greg told him. "How's it feel?"

"Hot!" Sam said truthfully, pushing himself upright.

"Yeah, I bet it is. Hurts too, I bet."

"A bit!" Sam smiled.

Greg laughed at that: "A bit? Really?"

"Yeah!"

"So, that wouldn't be the end of it then? What about the ping pong bat?"

Sam paused when he caught a glint of something in Greg's eye which should have told him to stop the scenario there, but he was too caught up in the moment to do anything like that even though the spanking with the slipper had been harder than anything he'd had before. He knew that he had to keep this going, and to play out the scene he'd created or else he risked it all falling apart. Or, at least, that's what he told himself when, in reality, he just wanted to keep going.

"Are you sure?" Greg asked, even as he picked the bat up.

"Of course," Sam nodded, "When you're being spanked you don't get the choice, do you?"

"Guess not."

"You just have to do what you're told."

"Well, in that case," Greg said, "Why don't you take your pants off."

It shouldn't have been, but the suggestion was unexpected. "My pants?"

"Yeah, take them down so I can spank you on the bare bum."

"Bare bum?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, of course, ain't that how bad little boys get spanked ain't it. On their bare bum?"

Sam, realising he'd been caught in his own pretence, nodded.

"So pull down your pants then, so I can spank you.... Sorry.. so I can paddle you."

Sam hesitated for a second, but only for a short second. Then, trying to act as if this was, indeed something that he did every day, Sammy put his thumbs inside the waistband of his underpants, and slowly slipped them down. Strange thing was this was the first time that he'd actually stripped in front of another person. Sure, in school, other had been around when he'd changed for gym, but they, like Samuel himself, didn't look, and did their best to hide themselves butt hat wasn't the case this time. Greg didn't turn away, even when Sammy's little underpants, went down past his knees to his ankles and were kicked away. Thankfully, however, this wasn't as embarrassing for both as it could have been for Sam's school shirt slid down to cover up not only the hardness of the younger boy's pricklet, but the evidence around the base of that pricklet, that proved he wasn't quite the age he was pretending to be.

"Right then!" Greg said when the underpants had joined the junior shorts on the back of a nearby chair, "Get back bent over and I'll paddle your bare bum for you."

Standing there, half naked in front of the bigger boy – who seemed even bigger at that moment as he waved the ping pong bat, Sam finally got a an attack of nerves which, of course he didn't show. Instead he climbed right back onto the chair, only to be stopped mid way but the suggestion that it would be easier if he just lent over the chair seat instead. This, turned out to be more comfortable, as he got to knee on the carpet and rest his upper body on the seat, which hid the state of his erection, even as it pushed his buttocks out ready for the attack that was soon coming his way.

Whop!

The blow was gentle, as the first with the slipper had been, but, unlike the slipper this time the bat was big enough to cover both of Sammy's buttocks at the same time. Then the spanking started for real.

WHOP!

The paddle move with more force, and landed with the same, causing Sammy to jerk his hips forward.

"That okay for you?" Greg asked, "I can do it harder if you want."

Sam didn't: "That's! That's fine!"

THWOP!

"Aargh!"

Sam's body bucked forward, forcing his expanded groin into the edge of the chair seat, which prompted him to move his rear back again, just as the bat swung again.

THWOP!

"Aargh!" he cried again, this time loud enough to bring the paddling to a stop.

"Sorry Sammy!" Greg apologised, "I won't use the paddle no more if it hurts you too much."

"Spankings are meant to hurt!" Sammy repeated the line he'd read in nearly everything he'd got on the subject.

"Yeah, but you've done nothing wrong have you, so there's no need for it, is there."

"But you wanted to know what a spanking was like?"

"Yeah, that's true, but, so far I still don't know that do I?"

Sammy's head spun around, to give a curious look towards his rear, and the table where the ping pong bat had now re-joined the slipper and then over to where Greg was waiting with a smile on his face.

"Yeah, I've slippered you and paddled you but I've not spanked you, have I?"

Still, Sam didn't get it, and wouldn't until Greg had actually showed him what he meant, so that's what he did. Suddenly reaching down to take Sammy's hand, lifting him up, while at the same time turning on his own axis, simultaneously spinning on the spot, lifting Sammy up and lowering himself down on the chair Sammy had just vacated. Then, while he was still getting comfortable, he gave the smaller boy a tug forward, and before Sammy even realised what was happening he found himself in one of his most dreamed about positions. Bent over the lap of another person.

"Now, let's see what it's like to spank someone." Greg said, and he did.

SMACK!

The large mid-teenaged hand crashed down into the small boy's bare bottom with a searing blow, right across the right buttock.

SMACK!

Another one landed almost straight away, on the other side.

SMACK!

This one went right down the middle, making Sammy give a little yelp, which rather than deterring him, caused Greg to speed up what he was doing, instead.

SMACK! SMACK!

"Oh! Ouch!" protested Sam, wriggling on his lap to no avail.

SMACK! SMACK!

Greg's free arm curled around Sammy's side, holding the boy still, with the red hot area of the small bottom directly under his spanking hand.

SMACK! SMACK!

"Ow! Ouch! Please..."

"Please what?" asked Greg but not before he'd delivered another couple of sharp blows.

SMACK! SMACK!

"Ow! Ouch! Please! Please stop!"

"What already!" the teen laughed, "Don't you get spanked all the time? So what's one more now? Ain't that what you said?"

SMACK! SMACK!

"Or even two!" He said over the top of the spanked boy's complaints, "You should be used to be spanked by now, by the age of ten!"

SMACK! SMACK!

"Ouch! Ow! But I'm not..."

SMACK! SMACK!

"Not what....?" The youth teased

SMACK! SMACK!

"Ow! Don't! I'm not..."

SMACK! SMACK!

"Ouch! I'm not..."

SMACK! SMACK!

"Ow-ch! I'm really..."

SMACK! SMACK!

The one sided laughter continued: "Really sore I bet!"

SMACK! SMACK!

Then, suddenly the spanking stopped as it seemed Greg now knew how to spank a boy, something which Sammy's very red bottom was testament too.

"How's that feel then?" he asked helping the boy back to his feet.

"Sore!"

"Well, at least one part of you didn't mind too much being spanked"

Looking down through tear stained eyes, Sammy wasn't at all surprised to see the front of his shirt being poked out by his erection. "I guess!" he muttered.

"So," Greg waited until the younger boy was looking at him again, "What happens now?"

"Now?"

"Yeah, what happens after you've been spanked? What happens next?"

"Oh!" Sammy had to think for what would normally happen would be that he'd masturbate with one hand while rubbing his red hot cheeks with the other but he was hardly about to do that with someone else in the house, so, not for the first time, he lied, although what he actually said was the truth in most of the spanking stories he'd read. Just not for him. "I have to go stand in the corner."

"Well, you can do that, on your own can't you, so I guess I'll be going."

Suddenly the youth was up out of his seat and heading for the door.

"Wait!" Sammy yelled after him, starting to follow before remembering he was half naked with a bright red bottom, as the front door was opened.

"See you later Sammy!" Greg called as he moved out into the street, as his hand attempted to make the front of his jeans comfortable once more.

Chapter Eleven
Boy's Toys

For days, if not weeks, after his first real spanking Sam was, quite naturally interested more in his bottom than in any other part of his body. He was quite simply fascinated by the way the warmth that had been created in his rear had turned into such delightful feelings. Of course, when it had first happened his bottom had been sore and stinging, but, as time passed, even this started to feel better. And there was better to come.

Laying in bed one evening, Sam was, as usually going over the spanking again in his head, while masturbating with his right hand. And, as had become his custom, while he did this his left hand was down, stroking and petting his bottom. Then, quite by accident, his exploring fingers fell into the gap between his buttocks and for probably the first time, he touched his anal sphincter.

At first Sam snatched his hand away but, soon he realised that it actually felt good to touch himself there so he did it again, trying to imagine what his bottom hole would have looked like and if Greg had been able to see it while he'd spanked him. Strangely it seemed like his bottom hole was reacting to the masturbation motion of his other hand, and in order to see if this was true or not, Sam, pressed his finger directly over the hole, onto to find his finger actually slipping inside himself.

"Oh wow!" he cried to himself. This was something new.. Well not entirely knew as he had heard about such things just had never realised just how it felt to have something pressing in that area. Of course he did it again.

Putting his finger back in place, he spread his legs further to gain better access and, continued to enjoy the sensation of a small amount of pressure on his anus. Then, as he started to break out into a sweat, he suddenly found his finger could slid right into his anus, a short way, and that he'd barely felt it.

Stopping his masturbation, Sam lay there with his finger in his bottom, getting gently squeezed by something deep inside himself. It still didn't hurt, not even when he gripped his finger with his anal muscles so he pushed his finger a little further in.

Curious as to how far he could get inside himself, Sam pulled his legs up, and used his masturbation hand to spread his buttocks, so his probing finger could have free reign to move around internally. Before long he had his finger all the way inside, and then he was touching something up there that sent a shiver right through him. The prostate.

Pulling his finger out of his bottom, Sam wasted no time in pushing it back in again, making sure he touched his prostate as he did so.

"Jeez!" he moaned before, smiling to himself, he start to slid his finger in and out of his own bottom, in a steady, rhythmic motion, that soon had him reaching for his still rampant erection and masturbating with a furry.

"OhhH!" he groaned as shivers of pleasure unlike all those he'd felt before rushed through him.

His eyes closed, and as his pleasure built his hands started to work faster and faster. One flying up and down his erection while the other poked in and out of his arse hole while, all the time his orgasm got closer and closer and bigger and bigger.

Soon he was shaking and gasping with delight, as waves of pleasure resound throughout his body. He strained to hold back, and for a few seconds he was able to but then, there was nothing he could do about it, and with a soft high pitched cry, his body spasmed. His sphincter clenched his finger and, at the same time, he ejaculated high up into the air, with his semen actually landing on his face, just to one side of his nose, by the corner of his mouth.

"Awww!" he then gasped a second time as his anus clamped tight a second time, and another load of teenage cum shot out of his prick, to land on his chest.

A third wave soon followed but while that didn't lead to anything as spectacular as the first two, but it was still one of the best he'd ever had. So much so that when he finally pulled his finger from his bottom and let his legs down, it was rather an anticlimax.

***

Eventually Sam fell asleep but when he woke his first thought was about his new discovery of how good it felt to have his fingers up his bottom, and, of course, it wasn't long before the fourteen year old was excited again especially when he wondered if it would feel better if he got something bigger than his fingers in his bottom. The only question was what?

Once he was alone in the house, Sam got up and, still naked took a look through first his room and then the rest of the house looking for something that was similar in size to his finger, but just that little bit bigger and which he could put up his own bottom. When he had all the things he could find he returned to his room and laid out the candle, the smooth handled screwdriver and the rubber drain blocker.

Laying back down on his bed, Sam selected the candle first as it looked the thinnest. So picking it up he spat on it to wet it slightly and then pointed the wet end towards his rear and pressed it right onto his pucker. Then he began to push not realising until it was too late, that this was the last thing he wanted to do.

It took a few, painful minutes before Sam got what he had to do, and by relaxing his bottom he was able to get the candle inside himself. This, of course was longer than his finger so he was able to continue pushing until it finally hit something. Then, he pinched his thumb and forefinger around the bit that was poking from him and slowly slid the candle out of himself.

"Blimey!" was his reaction when he saw just how much of it had been inside him. Then, putting it aside he reached for the next item.

The screwdriver, with its blunt thick end, soon proved to be a bad idea which only left the drain plug. This was a really old fashioned thing that Sam couldn't remember ever being used. It had a 2" round ball at one end which was meant to fit into the drain, while a shaft half that thickness stuck out which could be used to remove it again. Seeing as this shaft had finger grips built in, Sam choose to hold that and to place the ball end against his anus.

A gentle push and the small rubber plug slipped easily through Sam's anal ring, and into his bottom where it felt like it was filling him while the thinness of the shark felt good moving through his hole. It was perfect.

"Oh yeah!" the teenager gasped as the ball pressed against his sphincter, before he slid it back until the ball was back pressing against the under side of his anus. Then he pushed it all the way back inside again, making sure, of course, that it rubbed his prostate on the way.

"Mmmmm!" he moaned, happily, his other hand reaching up to grasp his now rampant prick

Soon the toy had a rhythm of its own as it move back and forth inside the slowly masturbating boy's bottom. Already Sam could feel his orgasm building and he'd barely even started. He wanted to hold it off for as long as possible but try as he might he just couldn't stop doing what he was doing.

Groaning loudly, he sped up both his hands until his fist was flying and down his stiffness and the rubber plug was slamming in and out of his other end. The remainder of his body trembling, while his mouth gasped for breath, and his eyes alternated between being screwed shut and staring wide open.

When his orgasm did, arrive it was even more spectacular than the last one. Not only did he cry out in animalistic pleasure, but his semen flew up past his face and landed in his hair. At least the first spurt did. The second landed on his face, the third on his chest and the rest just dribbled down his spent organ.

"Oh God!" the teenager gasped over and over again during the next ten minutes it took him to get his breath back. Only then was he able to pull himself together enough to finally remove the rubber plug from his bottom and lower his legs back onto the bed.

Chapter Twelve
A New Friend, of an Old Friend

The day was hot and humid but still little Sammy Townsend was wearing his school uniform as he worked on his latest project. Strangely, although the V-neck jumper was probably over the top, he wasn't actually all that hot, thanks to the shorts he was wearing and which, if he'd been dressed as Sam, he wouldn't have dared put on. Still, woodwork was never his strong point and he was struggling to make the device he was working on, even as he carefully followed the plans laid out before him.

The plans were ones that Sam had drawn up form a couple of historical books on the subject that was becoming so dear to his heart after reading, in one of them, that some small villages had used to put naughty boys into stocks so they could be punished. That, and the drawing that had gone with one of the stories had appealed to Sammy, not least as it had show how being bent over the punished figure, had been forced to poke their bottom out at a most inviting angle and so, Sam had drawn up the plans.

Now, with the task under way, Sammy wasn't sure he was up to the task, and was starting to wish that he'd stuck with the far more simple idea of pretending he was in stocks, when he became aware of someone watching him. Slowly he looked up and there, indeed was another boy, just standing there watching him, with a football in his hands, saying nothing.

"Hello!" Sammy said carefully and politely, looking over the newcomer's lean shirtless, well tanned body, his tight, but tattered jeans, wide leather belt, and slightly too long, straggly hair. Clearly the boy had been playing football, but what had bought him into the garden. Surely if an errant kick had sent his ball this way then Sammy would have noticed.

"What're you making?" the boy asked.

"Stocks!" Sammy said, before the raising of the boy's eyebrow told him he probably should have lied, "It's for school!" he quickly added.

"How's it work then?"

Picking up the headboard he'd been working on, Sammy duly showed how the three semi-circles, when fitted with the other part, would form into holes into which the prisoner's head and wrists could be inserted and, once the two boards were hinged together, and padlocked at the other end, the prisoner would be trapped until someone, anyone, let him out again. Sammy, also gave the lad a quick history lesson about stocks in general – not all of which was totally accurate – before he moved on to show the two supports that would, eventually hold the stocks in place.

"Hey, that's real clever!" the lad said, clearly interested. "Can I have a go?"

Sammy was puzzled: "At what?"

"Being in the stocks, of course, stupid.!"

"But it's not finished."

"I could help you finish."

"Sorry, you can't," said Sammy thinking on his feet, "These are my dad's tools and he only lets me use them if I don't let anyone else touch them."

"Hey, that's not fair." The lad pouted. "My brother lets me do stuff like that all the time."

"But you're brother's not my dad is he?"

For a moment the newcomer looked like he was going to argue, but then he smiled, "You know, it wouldn't surprise me if Greg was your dad, cos he's always talking about you."

"About ME?" Sam exclaimed, the older, teenaged sound of his real voice creeping through momentarily.

"Yeah, you! You're Sammy ain't you? Greg delivers stuff to your house sometimes, and he's told me about how you're always a 'good little boy' and how I should be like you, and stuff like that."

Sammy blushed, hoping that was all Greg had said: "Sorry!"

Thankfully, Greg's brother wasn't overly concerned: "Oh, that's okay, I don't listen to what Greg says anyway. I'm Marc by the way."

"Hi!"

"But you can call me Marc the magnificent!"

"I can?" Sammy smiled.

"Yeah, everyone does. Well, not 'everyone' but some people do, and you can to."

Sammy laughed: "Gee, thanks. So why do they call you Marc the magnificent then?"

"Cos I do magic tricks, that's why!"

"Oh yeah. Like what?"

"Like I can make stuff disappear."

"Really? Go on then. Make something disappear."

"Okay, I will."

For a second or two, Marc made a great show or rolling up the sleeves he wasn't wearing, and then checking the pockets in the jacket he didn't have on, before, finally, he simply picked up a screwdriver from the Sam's workbench and put it behind his back with a highly theatrical "Ta-da!"

"Oh yeah, VERY impressive!" Sammy applauded sarcastically before he realised that Marc was starting to walk off with is tool. "Hey come back, I need that."

A quick trot later and Sammy had his screwdriver back and was returning to the task at hand, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Marc pick up something else and put it behind his back: "Marc the Magnificent strikes again!" he laughed as he turned to walk away.

"Hey, not so fast!" Sam yelled, once more using his longer legs to close the gap between the two of them, and snatch back what was his. "I need that too."

"I'm only trying to save the poor delinquents that you are going to trap in your device."

"Yeah well....," momentarily Sammy was stuck for something to say as he could hardly say he was the one who was going to be locked in the stocks, especially given that he'd probably be naked at the time. Instead, he kept in character by issuing what he hoped sounded like the sort of threat a young boy would: "You do that once more and it'll be Marco the Magnificent that ends up in a magnificent heap of trouble."

It worked. Sort off.

"Oh yeah!" the lad responded. "What you going to do about it then?"

"Well," Sammy started, thinking up something he hoped would scare the kid away: "I guess I'd have no choice but to arrest you and hold you prisoner until the stocks are ready to take care of you, for good."

"Oh yeah!" Marc replied, "Like to see you try."

"Well, if you insist."

It happened in a flash. One minute Sammy was threatening the younger boy and the next he was acting. Without thinking he reacted as a fourteen year old would, rather than the younger boy he was pretending to be, by reaching out and grabbing Marc by the upper arm. Then, as soon as Marc reacted, he spun the lad around, and grabbed his other arm, pulling them both behind the boy's back, until his shoulder blades stood out beneath the tanned skin of his back, and his elbows were almost touching.

"Yeah but now what are you going to do." Marc just laughed at him, "You can't hold me like this and still do your work can you?"

Again, Sammy paused to think but the an idea struck him and, turning around he forced the smaller boy to walk in front of him. Marc put up a half hearted struggle as he was marched across the garden towards the back door but made no real effort to break free even when, Sammy pushed him into the wall so the other boy could reach up into one of his hiding holes and pull out a pair of handcuffs.

"Cool!" he said when he saw the steel glinting in the sunlight, "Where'd you get them?"

"None of your business." Sammy replied as he clicked one of the cuffs onto Marc's right wrist before he pulled the lad back a few steps to the metal washing line post, where he had soon cuffed the other wrist around the other side. Then he attempted to get back to work, but Marc had other ideas.

"Ha-ha!" he shouted. "Nice try but no mere cuffs can hold Marc the Magnificent for long, and when he escapes none of your stuff will ever be safe again for you, a mere mortal will never be able to catch Marc the Magnificent."

The boy probably didn't know it but he had a point. Although Sam was, a few years old than him, and probably could have caught him if they were to race, there was no way Sammy in his shorts was going to be seen out on the street, especially not chasing another boy. Still, Sammy knew, better than most, what to do about that, and he made a quick dash into the house, and another of his stashes.

"You'll never escape from me now!" Sammy teased as he produced a pair of homemade leg irons – actually a pair of handcuffs where Sam had broken and then extended the chain between them so, once on his ankles, he could still walk, albeit slowly – and fastened them around Marco's legs, and, around the back of the post. "Let's see you get out of that then?"

Marc just laughed at the other boy's back as Sammy returned to his task leaving the shirtless boy chained to the post in the middle of the garden, not that Marc seemed to mind all that much, it had to be said. For whilst at first he did make some attempts to get free from the shackles that held him, they didn't appear to be really serious attempts and were, naturally quite fruitless given the only means of his escape was the keys not in the pocket of the other boy's shorts.

"What's the matter?" Sammy called out, "Can't Marc the Magnificent escape then?"

"Of course I could if I wanted to." Came the defiant reply. "But it's too hot to be bothered so I'll just stay here, until the chains rust away."

"Or I let you go." Sammy pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess that would work too." Marc smiled, "But just not yet, okay?"

"Sure, whatever!" laughed Sammy returning to his self-imposed task.

When Sammy next looked up Marc was standing still, leaning back against the post and appeared to be singing to himself, which Sammy thought strange but not all that unusual as, after all, what else could the boy do. However, the third time, Sammy looked over at his captive, he noticed something that was, indeed, unusual.

Marc was still leaning back against the post, in a now far more pronounced way, that meant his front was pushed forward by the arch of his back. Again, Sammy didn't think much about this, until he happened to move himself, into a position that put Marc into a partial silhouette. Then, by having the sun cast a slight glow around the bound boy's body, Sammy spotted, that it wasn't just the body arch that was pushing Marc forward but that, the front of twelve year old jeans, appeared to be pushing forward all by itself. In other words, Marc had an erection.

"So, Marc the Magnificent," Sammy said, "How does it feel to be chained up and at my mercy?"

"Okay!" Marc said, nodding his head slightly, blinking against the sun that was now in his eyes.

"Okay, is it?" the older boy laughed, "So you wouldn't mind if I left you there then, forever!"

"Nope! Do your worst!"

At this stage anyone who didn't have Sam/Sammy's history probably would have done that, but if there was one thing the teenager behind the small short trousered schoolboy knew, it was just how to enjoy a situation like the one Marc was in, and, also how to ruin it. So, thinking that would be his best option, and would also prevent embarrassing them both by making a reference to the erection, he took out his keys and unlocked the other boy from the washing post.

"Oh, you didn't have to let me go." The lad complained, "I'd have got away sooner or later."

Sammy just smiled. "Perhaps! But I've got to get cleaned up before my parents get home. Maybe next time, I'll see just what Marc the Magnificent can do, eh!"

Instantly, Marc's face broke into a broad smile, "Yeah, that'll be great. You could come to ours and everything. See yeah Sammy."

"Yeah!" Sammy smiled, "See you." The teenager waited until the smaller boy had sprinted back to where he'd left his ball and then was heading out of the garden, before he added, "I'll see Greg too, with any luck!" And with that, he rubbed his hand over his buttocks at the thought.

Chapter Thirteen
Sammy Goes Bowling

While he waited for the perfect time to sort out his visit to the deliverer youth's house, both Sam and Sammy managed to keep themselves busy in what was by now, becoming the old familiar way. In fact, no sooner would his parent's car be heading on out of the drive way and he would be up, out of bed and looking for whatever toy he was going to play with that day.

On this occasion he was acting out one of the many scenarios he'd conceived could happen when he was once more alone with Greg, and, more importantly in the control of the slightly older youth. All of which would, quite naturally, it seemed, with Greg having sex with him in one form or another. Sometimes this would be that the naughty little schoolboy Sammy was, would be told to suck on the long hard, thick prick of the dominating youth, or, on other occasions, usually following a long hard spanking, Greg would just hold the apparently, small boy down, and drive his prick right up Sammy's bright red bottom.

Of course, Sammy had never really had anal sex, at least not with another person, but he was getting better and better at having it with himself, thanks to his growing group of toys. His favourite was still the tuber door stop, but that was about to change.

Retrieving the rubber toy from its current hiding place, Sam also took out his latest discovery, the small jar of petroleum jelly that, according to the 'experts' at Longacre Comp, was just the thing for anal sex. Of course, they'd meant anal sex with a girl, to avoid the dangers of pregnancy, but Sam, reasoned it would work on him too. And it did.

Returning to his room, Sam was soon naked and having opened the jar was applying the lubricate to the round end of his rubber friend, before doing the same to his own, not-so-small hole. And, as had always happened in the past, as soon as he touched his own back entrance, his pricklet leapt up to a full erection.

Pushing a little harder with his finger, soon slipped nail inside himself, which, thanks to all the previous occasions he'd done it, no longer so much as stung, a little bit. Now it just felt good to do it, so it wasn't long before he was moving his finger in and out of his hole in a slow, but steady motion, until his prick was aching for a release which meant it was time to move on, before it was too late.

Squatting down on the floor, Sam positioned the door stop underneath him, and attempted to literally sit on it.

It didn't work. At least not at first. The rounded tip of the door stop, just wouldn't stay still long enough to push itself inside the teenager. Instead it would slip off to one side or the other, totally missing its intended target.

Holding onto the makeshift dildo with one hand, Sam reached down, behind himself with his other hand – something that turned out not to be the easiest balancing act – in order to spread his buttocks apart and to guide the sex toy home. Then, when everything was lined up, and the ball-shaped end was pressing directly against his hole, he gradually increased the pressure, while at the same time, rocking slightly until, finally, it went inside him.

As usual there was, at first, a sharp pain as the two inch wide ball entered, but slowly, this would ease, as Sam's rear opened up to the invader and by that time, the teenager would be ready to take more, and more inside himself.

Despite having done this countless times before, Sam still couldn't believe just how good it felt to have something up his bottom, only this time he left it there. Not working it in and out as he had done countless times before, but instead, once the doorstop was all the way inside him, he stood up and, walking slowly, started to get dressed up in his schoolboy uniform.

It had been Sam's intention to transform himself completely into Sammy and then to carry out his chores as the little schoolboy, while he still had the plug up inside him but, this didn't turn out to be what happened. For, as he started to get dressed, and having already pulled on his tiny Speedo underwear, he suddenly realised there was a flaw with his plan in that he didn't have any shirts to wear. It was Saturday, which meant all his regular Longacre Comp school shirts were in the wash, and as these also doubled up as Sammy's shirts, it meant he would have to go down to the laundry room and see if there was one he could salvage. So, having gone too far along in his plan to turn back now. That's what he did.

Walking with his bottom stuffed with rubber, proved to be an interesting experience although not entirely new. There had been times in the past where, for one reason or another, Sam had had to move while his bottom was stuffed, whether that was to fetch something he needed, or on one occasion, to cover himself up, when he'd thought someone had come home unexpectedly. It was that occasion, when he'd got so far as to pull his jeans on over his naked, erection and stuffed bottom, to go to the window only to see a strange car using his parent's driveway to turn around, that had given him the idea to plug his rear for a longer time. And, sure enough, as he went down the stairs, he could feel the plug moving slightly in his rear, and that, translated directly into throbbing in the front of his underpants.

By the time, Sam got down to the laundry room, Sam was actually getting used to the plug in his bottom, and had, started to wonder just how big a something he could get up there. It wasn't a new thought, but, other than the doorstop he'd never really found anything that was the right size and shape for what he wanted, and was beginning to think he never would. But then, he did.

Just why his Dad had got the kid's garden bowling set out of the garden shed, Sam never did find out, but when the teenager saw the toy, he'd completely forgotten about over the last couple of years, he instantly thought of a new use for it. The pins were just exactly the same shape as the plug in his arse, only bigger. Quite a bit bigger in fact, but every bit as smooth and round as the doorstop. The similarity between the two, apparently innocent items, was just too obvious to ignore, and Sam, for sure, wasn't about to ignore it.

No more than ten minutes after leaving his bedroom, Sam was back, with all thoughts of completing his chores completely gone from his mind. The fourteen year old only had one thing on his mind, and it wasn't going to remain just there for long either.

Snatching open the petroleum jelly jar for a second time, Sam, applied a good thick coat to the top of the bowling pin he'd bought with him, and, removing the plug from his rear, did the same to his hole. Then he got back down, into position, crouching over the new toy.

The top of the pin was round like the doorstop but wide. Much wider in fact, and as Sam soon discovered this soon became a very real problem as it was far more difficult to even get it started as there was just no way to get it to stay in place against his hole, as Sam just couldn't get very good leverage on it. Then an idea struck him, and totally naked this time, he was once more heading back to the laundry room.

Soon, Sam was back in his room with the holder that had come with the kid's bowling game which, as he'd rightly guessed, would be enough to hold the pin still, and leave his both his hands totally free to do what they had to do, in order to get everything done.

Back into position for a third time that day, Sam was now able to hold the pin in place from both the back and the front, and prevent it from slipping as he bore down on it.

"Ahhh!" he cried whenever the crown of the pin would begin to stretch his bottom open but he'd tried to put up with discomfort for as long as possible, even though this wasn't really all that long, at least to begin with.

It was painful, so painful in fact that there was more than one occasion when Sam actually had to stop what he was doing, and stand up until it died down again. Soon, though, he'd be trying again. And again.

It was taking a long time but, despite all the breaks and the pain involved, the teenager was making slow and steady progress. Each time he tried, he was able to force his anus to open up that little bit more, and to creep just a little bit more around the top of the crown of the pin, until, finally, after what seemed like hours he did.

"Ahhh! Jeez! Shit!" he cried, first in his Sammy voice and then, more forcefully as Sam, as the fattest part of the bowling pin, slipped through his anal sphincter and, to their great relief, his anus could close around the thinner neck of the pin.

"Oh God!" he groaned, lifting the pin from its holder, just by the way it was stuck up his arse. Not that he could stand for long, as his legs, having been strained into a crouching position for so long, just couldn't support him. Instead, Sam collapsed, face down onto his bed.

The bowling pin was now totally up his bottom, and his pricklet was now as hard as it could be, despite having gone soft during some of his experience. The pin was going to take some work to get out again, but, for the time being, Sam wasn't the slightest bit interested in that. All he could think about was the pleasure having it inside of him was giving him, and would continue to give him. While, at the same time, his mind, imagined not a bowling pin sticking out from between his buttocks but the long hard shaft of a certain delivery youth, that would soon, with any luck, be fucking the naughty little schoolboy Sammy for all he was worth.

And with that thought on his mind, and elsewhere, Sammy ejaculated into his bedclothes.

Chapter Fourteen
Sammy Gets Visitors

Several weeks passed in which Sam – as Sammy – did his best to get to know Marc, in the hopes that this would lead him to becoming friends with Damien. In fact, Marc was the only person either Sam or Sammy did spend any time with, yet it never seemed to be quite enough to be able to find some reason to go back to Marc's house where, presumably, Greg would be. Then, as the summer started, the perfect chance happened, thanks to the fifteenth anniversary of Mr and Mrs. Townsend's wedding.

To celebrate Sam's parents had organised a weekend away and were going to leave Sam at home alone which was just what Sam wanted, although, this wasn't quite how it put it to Marc when they next met. Now he made out that he was going to be deposited with some scary old aunt unless he could find someone who could come around and keep an eye on him. Of course, Marc, excited no doubt by the thought them having the house to themselves, volunteered himself only to frown when Sammy pointed out it would have to be someone older, say, at least sixteen. For a moment Sammy didn't think Marc was going to take the hint, but then he did, and suggested that Greg could do it. And from that point on. It was fixed. Greg would baby-sit both Sam and, his little brother.

On the day his plan came into full force, Sam's parents had, naturally already been gone for 24 hours and had, actually already arrived where they were going. Having phoned to say so, they'd then told Sam not to phone them unless he really had to. Sam, of course, had no intention of doing that, as he'd already busied himself preparing for his 'babysitter' to arrive. Nonetheless, when the doorbell rang bang on the appointed time, Sammy couldn't help jumping a little bit and had to calm himself down before he went to answer the door.

Greg stood on the doorstep every bit as imposing as he had been the last time he'd been at the house, and that didn't even include the spanking he'd given Sammy either. He did, seem taller, for some reason but that was probably just that he was looking over the apparently smaller boy's head, to see into the house. "Can I come in then?" he asked, eventually.

Unable to speak, Sammy stepped aside.

"Thanks kid!" Greg smiled, reaching out a hand to ruffle the hair, Sammy had spent ten minutes trying to behave in a neat side parting. "I take it your folks have gone already. Did they leave me anything?"

"They left you a note!" Sammy lied, having written out the note himself. "and some money!"

Silently the youth move through to the living room, and took the envelope from the mantelpiece where Sammy had laid it. Ripping it open he quickly pocketed the money, as if he didn't want Sammy to see how much of Sam's life savings it was, and then read the note nodding to himself slowly when he apparently came across an interesting passage, no doubt to do with the punishments he was allowed to inflict on young Master Townsend which, not surprisingly, the note listed quite a few off.

"Good, good!" he said when he'd finished, "Marc should be here soon so, in the meantime why don't you show me around the place, kid?"

Sammy nodded, it was all going so well, he could barely believe it. Still, he had a part to play and so he did. Slowly showing Greg around to the parts of the house he hadn't visited before, including, of course, the room he would be sleeping in, as well as Sammy's own bedroom. This latter room, had under gone a slight transformation in the past day, with every trace of Sam having been removed to the attic, and a small put you up bed being added for Marc in one corner. Sammy holding his breath, while Greg looked around, in case he'd forgotten something, needn't have worried for Greg apparently took it for what it looked like. The bedroom of an eleven year old kid.

Marc duly arrived ten minutes after his brother, announcing himself by some rapid knocking on the back door that made Sammy jump, and then pale as he thought it might be one of the neighbours checking on him. Yet, with Greg still standing in his bedroom, and with his normal jeans packed away for the weekend he had no option but to answer it dressed as he was. He did have an excuse ready to use – that he was going to a fancy dress party – but, of course, he didn't have to use it when he recognised the small frame of his friend standing beyond the door.

"Why didn't you use the front..." he started to say, but then the words failed him when he saw just what Marc was wearing. Gone were the jeans with the ripped knee, and the backwards baseball cap, the twelve year old and always worn before, and in its place was something very similar to what Sammy himself was wearing, complete with polished shoes, knee socks, grey v-neck sweater, showing a neatly tied tie, across a buttoned shirt and, of course, small grey shorts.

"It was Greg's idea." Marc said in answer to the odd looks he was getting, "He said, if I was going to live in the house of a nice kid like you, then I had better dress the part, so, here I am."

"And don't you look smart. The both of you." Greg's voice boomed in the kitchen. "All those bare legs just waiting to be slapped if... or rather when.. you give me any cheek."

At the very mention of that Sammy found himself blushing but, thankfully the brothers didn't seem to notice as, while he'd spoken Greg had turned back into the living room, and soon Marc was following him.

"Nice house!" the younger brother said.

"Yeah it is," agreed Greg, "so don't you go knocking stuff over and making a mess, you get me?"

Marc smiled and winked at Sammy, as he answered: "I'll try!"

"You'll do more than try, kid!"

"Well," the winking continued, "You know how clumsy I am, you may have to do something about it, to make sure I don't knock nothing over."

"Oh, will I? Like what?"

"Well you could tie me... us... up, then we couldn't knock nothing over could we."

"That seems a little extreme, especially as Sammy probably isn't as clumsy as you."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't be fair just to tie one of us up, would it, so you'd probably best to the pair of us and then you could do whatever you want, while we're out of the way, couldn't you?"

"I guess." Greg laughed, turning to the host, "So what about it Sammy, you game?"

It was, something the two younger boys had talked about on a number of occasions since that first day, and, of course, they had followed up those events with similar, low key ones. This did sound like a set up though, but, as it was something Sammy was interested in. He nodded, his voice, no longer working.

"Great!" Marc leapt up, "Let's go to Sammy's room and do it there. Come on!"

The enthusiasm of the young boy was infections, and the chase was on. Sammy following his friend up the stairs, but making no attempt to over take, as that would mean leaving the view of the firm round buttocks tightly encased in the short, school shorts which, coincidently, was the first subject Marc spoke about, while they waited on Sammy's bed for Greg to follow them.

"You know, wearing shorts is quite fun, ain't it. Wish we could do it at Longacre Comp."

Sammy laughed, "Wouldn't your teacher's freak out... hey, hang on. You go to Longacre Comp."

"Sure I do. But yeah, the teachers would freak, and the other kids too. Probably beat the crap out of me but still, maybe I'll try it one day, like a dare or something."

"What are you daring now little brother?" Greg asked as he came into the room. "No, on second thoughts don't tell me, just put your hands behind your back."

Sammy blushed at the order but Marc didn't, he leapt up to do as he was told, and in seconds, it seemed his hands were tied at the wrist and, Greg was moving over to do the same to Sammy. The pretend young boy, shivering as the cord was looped around his wrists, and they were pulled together.

"Okay, lay on the bed!" was Greg's next order and this time both boys did so, laying face down, so their hands didn't press uncomfortably into their backs. This, as it turned out was just what Greg wanted for he was soon binding their ankles just as he had their hands, using quick, tight knots, and then, rather to Sammy's surprise, bending their knees so their bound ankles were level with their buttocks, at which point a short length of cord lashed them to the previously bound wrists, rendering them both into helpless hogties.

"Okay, that should hold you two scamps, until later. See you, then."

Greg left the room, closing the door behind him with a click, leaving the two boys side by side on the bed, both unable to move, but not so much from the ropes but from the thought of falling over the side of the bed and hurting themselves. It was all they dared to do to turn their heads and look at each other, so it was then, given that they couldn't do anything else, that Sammy asked the obvious question: "Does Greg tie you up often?"

"All the time." Marc replied, "Well, not all the time, but quite often, especially when our parents are out, oh, and sometimes at night too."

"At night?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Not too tight though, or else I'd get cramp and that stings like a bugger and the pins and needles take forever to go away."

Sammy nodded, knowing just what Marc meant having been there himself, even if his nocturnal tie ups had all be self inflicted. Still, the answer only gave rise to more questions. Starting with: "So where does Greg Tie you up then?"

"In my bedroom mostly, or sometimes in his, but we've done it other places to, like in the garden to a tree, stuff like that."

"Where you wearing your shorts then?" asked Sammy, wondering just how close to one of his own fantasies the other boy had come.

"No, I didn't wear shorts then. I had my normal trousers on. Or, at least, I did when it started, but then Greg came back and pulled them down so I was just in my underpants instead."

"He did? Really?"

"Yeah, he said, he didn't think I was trying hard enough to escape and he thought being outside in my pants, would make me want to escape more."

"Did it?"

"A bit." Marc smiled, "It was a bit cold that day so I doubt there was much to see anyway."

Sammy laughed like the young boy he was pretending to be should at a comment like that, but it didn't put him off asking the one question he wanted to, just delayed it a bit. Only by the time he got to ask why Marc let Greg tie him up, the older brother was standing in the doorway.

"He likes it!" the youth said from the doorway, before coming over to his brother and ruffling his hair, "Don't you kid!"

"Get off me... oh... oh...!" Marc had shaken his head at the touch but this had caused him to loose his balance, and in doing so he managed to roll from the bed and onto the floor, where he landed with a thud.

"See Sammy," Greg laughed, "Told you he was clumsy, didn't I?"

Bending down, Greg slotted his hands under his brother's arms and lifted him up, waving him around the room a little and then holding him still, as he said, "See Sammy, our Marc, REALLY likes being tied up."

Sammy's mouth dropped open for there was no denying what Greg said was true, for Marc must have loved something about the way his hands were bound behind his back to his feet, for there was a lump in the front of his shorts that could only be from an erection that was about as hard as a twelve year old's prick could be, as it forced out the front of the shorts like a rampant tent peg, was trying to burst out of his clothing.

"In fact," Greg continued, "If you look really closely Sammy, you can probably see that, if Marc was a bit older, he'd have already wet himself in excitement, ain't that right Marc?"

Marc didn't say anything, but then he couldn't as Greg, having rested Marc's knees on the mattress, had moved one of his hands up to gag his little brother. "I bet Marc hasn't told about the first time I found out how much he liked being tied up, has he."

The events the youth then described sounded so much like something Sammy himself would have done that it was all he could do to keep quiet as the story progressed. It soon emerging that, long before he'd met Sammy, Marc had been interested in being tied up, and by the time Greg found out, had been practising a few knots and things on himself, but, in his excitement had become a little careless which is how Greg came to find his little brother bound hand and foot in the living room, hopping too and fro.

Naturally the younger boy had become frozen to the spot when he saw Greg watching him, but that was nothing to what happened next, Greg, having seized what was going on, snatched up the roll of duct tape, Marc had been using and before the younger boy could do anything about it, the youth had not only reinforced the tape already around his sibling's wrists and ankles, but had added a crisscross of tape, to his mouth. Then, leaving Marc muffling around on the carpet, Greg had gone upstairs and discovered the full extent of his brother's hobby, as Marc had emptied his secret stashes of ropes, and other bondage gear, right through to his collection of pictures from magazines and books of boys tied up, as well as a few of the youngster's own rough drawings of the same.

"It took me hours to go through all his stuff, and he was tied up all that time, and didn't complain once. Not even when I took the gag off."

Greg removed his hand from Marc's mouth but his brother didn't attempt to speak, just waited for Greg to continue the story, which he did.

"Then, the next day, Marc asked me if I would tie him up properly, and, of course I did but it wasn't until the summer when I found out just how much he liked it."

"I was wearing my swimmers." Marc interjected.

"Yeah, he was and he doesn't mean board shorts either but the tiny Speedo thing he wore when he was little and which barely fitted him, and he asked me to tie him up while he was wearing it. I did, of course, tying his hands up over his head, to the banisters, and then his ankles to the skirting. By the time I'd finished the lump in his Speedo was even more obvious than it is now. So there was only one thing I could do, wasn't there?"

"What?" Sammy asked.

"I pulled the swimmers down didn't I, and left him like that, all naked and tied up and you should have seen his little willy, Sammy, it was so hard that it looked like it was going to burst or something. It was so funny."

"Not from where I was standing!" Marc complained, laughing while he did so, however.

"Well, I soon made you feel better didn't I?" Greg ruffled his hair again. "Still, enough about that, I think its time I got you two tied up some place better than this. So who's first?"

Sammy ended up being the first to be released from his hog tie, but not from his bonds. His hands remained bound behind his back, as were his ankles, although the ropes around his feet were loosened slightly to allow him to walk. Greg had to help him back down the stairs, but other than that the journey passed without incident, so much so that when Greg did finally, untie his hands, Sammy was somewhat disappointed.

By this point the youth and the short trousered teenager were in what Mrs. Townsend, liked to call the utility room but which was, little more than a corner of the garage where the white goods were kept in amongst various shelves and metal work. There were some large pipes running across the ceiling and over one of these Greg was soon tossing a lengthy length of rope. This was then tied to the ropes that were rebound around Sammy's hands, this time above his head. The remaining rope then tied up, but not before Sammy had been pulled almost all the way onto the tips of his toes. Then, Sammy had his ankles re-tied.

For a moment Sammy was left alone but not for long as soon Marc was down joining him in much the same predicament only with one major difference. Somewhere between being untied, and coming downstairs, the twelve had lost all of his clothes. So now, when Greg left the room for a second time the two boys were stuck facing each other, one dressed as a prep schoolboy and the other one, totally naked. This of course meant, Sammy had little choice but to look at his naked friend, and did so, although he did try – and fail – not to stare at the erection that continued to poke almost directly upwards from his testicles.

"Hard ain't it." Marc eventually said.

"What being tied up?"

"No," laughed Marc, "Your willy? It's hard isn't it?"

Sammy laughed back partly to cover his embarrassment as he was, of course, hard, but also at the strangely juvenile word Marc had used.

"It's half the fun of being tied up." Marc continued, "Being hard and not being able to play with yourself. Makes it more exciting don't you think? A bit like you're being tortured or something?"

"Tortured?"

"Yeah, well not really. I mean, Greg wouldn't do something like that to me no matter what he says, mind you he did once put me on a cross like Jesus."

Sammy gasped: "He did?"

"Sure did. Not with nails of course, but he tied me too it so tight I couldn't move at all, and he made me put a little loin cloth on, so it was just like Jesus in all the books, only, they never showed Jesus with a stiffy do they?"

"No!" Sammy laughed, "They don't."

"And that's probably just as well don't you think?" Greg asked from the doorway, "And on that note are you to ready for lunch?"

Sammy stunned: "Wow, is it lunch time already?"

"Sure is. Time flies when you're having fun, and you are having fun aren't you Sammy?"

Sammy nodded.

"Tell him what else you do to me then?" Challenged Marc, "See if he'd like that too."

"Well, Sammy already knows that I spank you, Marc?"

"He does. He never said."

"I bet he didn't tell you that I've spanked him too, did he."

Marc turned to his friend. "No he didn't. Why the hell didn't you tell me...."

"As I was saying," Greg continued his hand now back over his brother's mouth, "Sometimes I spank him and then other times I make him feel good, do you know what I mean?"

Blushing Sammy nodded.

"Good! Now if you two can behave for a moment, let's go and eat and then we can do some more stuff afterwards. Right?"

They nodded.

Chapter Fifteen
Sammy and the Siblings

All through the lunch Greg had made Sammy wondered what would be coming next. There were, after all, a lot of things a sixteen year old, could want to do with two younger boys especially when those two boys were barely wearing anything, and who were still wearing both handcuffs and leg irons.

Actually, Sammy had been a little worried when Greg had told him to take his clothes off, but, when the elder youth explained that he didn't want to risk getting the uniform dirty, it seemed to make sense, and, anyway, Marc was already practically naked, so it didn't seem all that strange for Sammy to only wear his tight, skimpy underpants either.

Soon tough the meal was over and the three boys were back in the bedroom, where, after having pulled the bed out slightly from the wall, Greg told Sammy to lie down, face down on the mattress and to spread out his limbs. Naturally, Sammy did as he was told for it was fairly obvious from the instructions just what was coming next. And he couldn't wait.

"Greg made that!" Marc informed his friend as his brother took out a set of leather restrains, that were attached to long chains. These, once the handcuffs were removed, were buckled around Sammy's wrists, in a good, snug, yet comfortable fit, even with the chains then being pulled tight to the top corners of the bed. Then, Greg did the same with the boy's ankles until he was truly spread out across the bed.

"Now I'm going to gag you." He said, "So open your mouth nice and wide."

The ball gag fit very snugly into Sammy's mouth, totally preventing him from saying anything, or from even making the slightest sound at all which was just as well, given what was coming next.

SMACK!

It stung. Just that single blow, delivered from Greg's hand directly across the seat of his tight underpants

SMACK!

The second fell solely on the right buttock.

SMACK!

And the third on the left.

SMACK! SMACK!

A set of two, quickly followed. One on each side.

SMACK! SMACK!

And was repeated.

SMACK!! SMACK!

Already Sammy's eyes were starting to tear up.

SMACK! SMACK!

Yet, even as they did, he felt strangely good.

SMACK! SMACK!

Then, just as he was getting into it, it stopped.

"There that should do for now? Don't you think Marc!"

Marc didn't answer and Sammy soon saw why, as at some point during the spanking Marc too had become tied up and gagged once more. Only, as Greg had been busy spanking Sammy, clearly Marc had done it to himself. The twelve year old having attached a leather belt around his waist, onto which were attached cuffs over either hip. These now held his hands, tight to his sides, while a ball similar to the one in Sammy's mouth was buckled in place around the front of his face. However, unlike, Sammy, Marc was now totally naked, and his pricklet was rock hard, and almost plastered to his lower belly in its hardness which meant that Sammy, could clearly see the black leather strap that had been fastened around the root of Marc's boyhood. And there was another surprise to come.

"Take a good look at what my little brother likes to do." Greg laughed, moving Marc by his shoulders until he was stood directly beside the bed, Sammy was fastened too. Then, slowly, he made Marc turn around, so his back was to the bed, and made him bend over slightly so that his bottom was no more than a foot from Sammy's face which meant there was no mistaking the item that was poking out of the young boys anus.

"Marc loves having things stuffed up his arse!" Greg pointed out somewhat needlessly. "Although he wasn't too sure the day I made him go to school with that thing up him."

Sammy wasn't really listening, as he was still looking at the item that disappeared into his only friends rear end. He could even see the red ring of Marc's sphincter, clenched around the solid looking tubular shape, as it emerged from his insides.

"Actually," Greg continued, "I think there is only one thing Marc likes more than being tied up, spanked and having things stuffed up his bum. Can you guess what that is Sammy?"

Sammy couldn't, but then, even if he could have, he wouldn't have been able to say anything about it, so he just waited for Greg to show him, which the youth did by unbuttoning his fly.

The prick jutted out of Greg's jeans, rock hard and ready for action, and, not surprisingly bigger than both of those belonging to the boys who were now staring at it, and the thick black curls that were growing around the base of the mighty organ.

"So," Greg said after he'd stroked himself a few times, "What do you think Sammy? Do you like it as much as Marc does?"

Sammy, nodded.

"Well in that case," he reach behind his brother's head, "Let Marc give you a demonstration of just how to appreciate what I've got."

Marc was already starting to kneel down as the gag came away from his face and by the time he was kneeling on the carpet, he already had the head of this brother prick in his mouth and was starting to suck on it, as, lazily, Greg started to remove his clothes.

For all his experiments, Sam had never actually seen anyone actually suck a prick before so he was wide eyed as Marc worked his way around the crown of Greg's penis, and then put his lips to the very end, and started to push forward.

Slowly, but steadily, the prick disappeared into Marc's working mouth. The youngster's cheeks bulged out slightly but even that didn't stop him, just slowed him down slightly as he controlled his breathing to allow even more of the teenager prick to go into his body.

"Okay, hold it there." Greg said a few seconds later, reaching into the bedside drawer, "I think its time we started to get Sammy prepared don't you, Marc?"

The younger brother didn't say anything but tried his best to watch as Greg took out a tube of lube, and what looked like a dick with a bump in the middle. This, Sammy already knew was a butt plug, and that the bump was there to stop it falling out of a boy's bum. And, that boy was going to be him.

Pulling down the back of the bound boy's underpants, Greg spent a good few minutes spreading the lube both around, and slightly inside Sammy's anus, before he removed his fingers and replaced them with the plug.

Greg, of course, didn't know about all the sex toys Sammy had previously used on himself, most of which were bigger than the butt plug he'd chosen to get the boy started, so was a little surprised with just how easy the plug went into the lad. Even the wide part of the plug didn't seem to bother the bound and spanked boy, as it stretched open his anus, before allowing it to close once more, on the far side of the dildo, trapping it inside.

"You done this before Sammy?" the teen asked, but getting no answer, other than the blush that quickly spread around the trapped boy's face. "I'll take that as a 'yes' shall I?" he laughed, "Well, in that case, why don't we just cut out the middle man, and get down to business."

Sammy felt the mattress tip to one side, as Greg knelt up onto it, and moved himself into position between his spread legs. Then he felt hands once more on his buttocks and on the plug giving it a slight push, before pulling it right out of him again, to leave him strangely empty. But not for long.

Slowly, Greg's fingers came back and tightened into Sammy's buttocks until they started to pinch but that was least of the bound boy's problems for a second latter, he could feel the heated excitement of the youth's rampant prick pressed against his anus.

"One!" Greg counted, teasing with a little push against the boy's resistance.

"Two!" he counted, pressing himself in a little way and then withdrawing just as Sammy's hole started to stretch open to accept him.

"Three!" he continued doing the same again, only then to pause, take a deep breath and then...

"FOUR!"

Greg lunched forward, shoving the entire length of his prick deep into Sammy's bottom in one go. The force of the sudden invasion causing Sammy's entire body to first tense and then to push against the bound that easily held him down.

"Tight!" Greg commented, "But not as tight as Marc. Still you probably get fucked all the time at that posh school you go to don't you Sammy?"

Naturally Sammy didn't comment. He wouldn't have even if he'd not been gagged, the sensation of having his first real prick up his bottom had just cut all the words from his head and soon, as Greg started to work his prick in and out of the lad's hole, Sammy was unable to think about anything than what was happening both behind and to him.

For some five minutes Greg continued to fuck the boy bound on his bed, while his tied up little brother – who was the one usually in that position – stood by helplessly watching. Not that Sammy was complaining of course, as this was just what he had wanted all along and now he was getting. Hard. In fact his being tied down as probably a good thing as his first instincts were to thrash around on the bed while he was being fucked, but, of course he couldn't do that, or anything else, except lie there and take everything the sixteen year old was giving him. What he did know, even in his current state, was that this wasn't going to be the last time he would be in a similar position getting what he was getting from who he was getting it from.

The End