But What If... 7

By His story, buff

Copyright 2019 by His story, buff, all rights reserved

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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But What If...? ( Chapter 7 )
 
In reality, I had chickened out and bolted out the garage door when the leader of the club told me I had to take off my clothes as of part of my initiation. But what if my brother and his friends knew I’d likely balk at the idea of stripping and had put it to me differently? What if they’d worked out some way to trick me and I fell for it? This is how it might have turned out.

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So shortly before my tenth birthday I had convinced my big brother George to put my name forward as a candidate to be in his Big Boys’ Club. Two days later I was standing in a garage George and a few of his friends used as their club house.
 
“Victor,” said Fred whose garage it was, “ Did your brother explain that you have to pass a quick and simple initiation before becoming a club member?”
 
“ Yeah, I figure something like a test and sign of my commitment to your secret society.” I answered relieved that my initiation wouldn’t take very long. “ What do I have to do?”
 
“You just have to take off your t-shirt, shoes and socks” said Fred. “ We have to get you bare-chested and barefoot so you look more like a young man than a little boy. “
 
“Okay, no problem.” I answered, again feeling this was going to be a piece of cake. I shucked off my sneakers, pulled off my sweat socks and peeled off my t-shirt.
 
Tom took my discarded clothes and began undoing the laces on my sneakers. Kevin, one of the other guys, was playing with one of my socks rolling it up into a ball. George was folding my shirt and placed on a shelf in the back of the garage. It was all like a secret ritual.
 
Fred said he would finish the Pledge Preparation with a ceremonial Brother Binding Bond. He tied both my shoe laces together to form a longer string and then had me put my hands behind my back. Then he tied my hands together.
 
Next Kevin took my balled up sock and shoved it into my second sock and turned his back on me but half a minute later he turned around with both socks rolled up into one. At that point George, who was standing behind me, reached over and pinched my nose shut and told me to open my mouth wide for the Code of Silence Ritual. That’s why I couldn’t smell it!
 
Kevin had given Fred my balled-up socks and was jamming them into my open mouth. I was being gagged into silence by my socks which Kevin had pissed on. They were soaked and every time I gulped I swallowed his piss! That was just the beginning of my humiliating initiation.
 
I was bare-chested, barefoot, gagged and bound behind as Tom and George picked me up and draped me over Fred’s lap. He was sitting on a short stool and to raise my butt higher, he moved his knees up. As he did, Kevin undid my pants belt and pulled my jeans down to my ankles and then off my legs entirely. My white underpants immediately followed.
 
I was now stark naked, hands tied behind my back, and gagged with my piss-soaked socks. The boys were all laughing. I had been tricked and there was nothing I could do about it. How humiliating! But not as humiliating as it was about to become.
 
As I was conveniently lying over Fred’s lap, he was the first to administer what he called ‘My first ASSignment’, that is, 25 slaps to each bare butt cheek. Then Fred got up and it was my brother’s turn which was followed by Kevin and Tom. I can’t say I remained silent throughout my spanking, but the piss-sock gag did its job of muffling my cries.
 
So I got 100 spanks on each cheek and my buttocks were now red enough to maintain that rosy hue through my next ordeal, the second initiation task, a Circle-Jerk Session with my face as the target.
 
Fred, George, Tom and Kevin stood in a semi-circle facing me as I knelt on the garage floor still naked, gagged with hands tied behind my back. I had heard about soggy biscuit games where teenage boys race to see who can masturbate the fastest to reach orgasm and shoot their spunk on to a slice of bread, cake or bun. The slowest to come had to eat the cum-soaked treat. But in my initiation, my face was the biscuit and I was loser cum-eater to boot.
 
They didn’t take very long, maybe six or seven minutes before the last cum-shots splashed all over my cheeks, lips, up my nose and dripping from my eyelids, eyebrows and eyelashes. Nothing in my mouth, of course, as that was stuffed with piss-socks. But my gag was removed for a few seconds while Kevin, who came last, was given the dirty honor of scraping the cum off my face and onto my tongue before once more gagging my mouth.
 
So now I was swallowing piss and cum. My breath stank and my face smelled spunky too. But not for long, as my final initiation task was about to take place. This would require me being hauled outside where I knelt on the hard cement drive way. It was time for the boys to wash off the cum that had dried on my face... with a Golden Shower!
 
They had been drinking sodas for the past hour and now needed some relief. They didn’t just aim for my face, of course. They weren’t satisfied until my entire naked body was drenched in their piss.
 
They let me air out a bit and then dragged me back into the garage where they untied my hands but then moved my hands to my front and retied my wrists. They then looped my shoelace bonds on to a nail in the far wall. Now I was stinking, naked, gagged, and tied up against the wall which I now faced, unable to move or cry out.
 
That’s how they left me. But I was not alone for long. About a half-hour later I looked over my right shoulder as the garage door opened and I saw six girls older than me walking in with big fat grins on their faces and each carrying some kind of swatting tool. I later learned they were Kevin and Tom’s older sisters and some of their friends.
 
One had a ping-pong paddle. One, a paperback book. One, a 12-inch wooden ruler. One a leather belt. One a hair brush. And the last girl carried a bunch of pussy willows.
 
After so much time spent on my three initiation tasks, my butt cheeks had lost their rosy color and stinging soreness. They were about to be renewed.
 
 
 
 
 




 

   
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