The Video

The Video
by Platypus
plupy@surfbest.net

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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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Tyson was at home in front of his brand new computer after seeing the ad on Fred's List Dot Com. He'd been considering this opportunity for what seemed like hours now – ever since he'd come home from school that Friday. The ad registered once again in his brain. Should he or shouldn't he?

Boys sought for video production. Ages 13 and up. To apply, mel@famouspictures.com Send a recent photo to be considered.

Wow, was it tempting. I'm old enough. Finally the temptation proved too great. It can't hurt Tyson thought. His friends would be jealous. Nobody knew or even suspected how talented he was. Maybe he'd change his name someday to one of those showbiz names. Something like Dash or Stone or Rock, instead of just plain old Tyson.

The invitation came in the email just an hour later. He'd received the address to go to one of the big hotels in the city. Meet a guy in the lobby after asking for "Mel." Easy. Tyson had plans Saturday morning. Tyson was going to be a movie star.

"Where are you going Tyson?"

"I'm going to the library downtown to finish my homework, Mom. I'll be back in a few hours." He didn't like lying to his mother, but it was only a fib. He WAS headed downtown.

He picked out the guy right away only a few minutes after Tyson told the clerk that he'd come out to be in the video. The clerk nodded and made a call up to somebody's room – probably the director's. This was so exciting! It would be wicked kewl! The guy, an older gent with a mustache and salt-and-pepper sideburns, smiled and said, "Come with me kid." Tyson followed him into the elevator like a puppy dog. Not a single alarm bell went off in the boy's head.

Tyson was still behind the gent when he knocked on the door to the 9th floor suite. All these rooms look alike, Tyson mused. He didn't even notice the room number in the thrill of the moment. It was really happening. Tyson had arranged this himself, without even a casting agency or anybody's help.

The door opened and they both walked in.

"Oh, I see you've brought the boy for the video. He looks like a good choice. Nearly perfect, I'd say."

"I can act too," Tyson said.

The director eyed the boy from head to toe. He was a dirty blonde with a wisp-tail of hair decorating the back of his neck, but otherwise clean-cut.

"How old are you?" the director asked. He was dark-haired and swarthy, with a trace of an accent from India or someplace foreign.

"Thirteen."

"What's your name?"

"Tyson."

Tyson looked around the suite, like two rooms joined together. He saw chairs, a table, a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a large King-sized bed. He'd been in hotel suites before, and this one looked like a thousand others, nothing special. Nearest him in the room were four rugged-looking dudes besides the one who brought him, but no one else. No other kids, or parents, or anybody was going to be in this video. This is kind of weird, Tyson thought. He was having second thoughts but didn't say anything. Now there were alarm bells, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding-a-ling. Finally Tyson said something.

"I thought I was going to be in a real movie – like a video for Hollywood or something." The men just stared at him for a tense moment, as if they were wolves eyeing a rabbit. Tyson was fast realizing the gravity of his situation, and felt a churning in the pit of his stomach. The boy now wanted out. "Ah, this isn't exactly what I had in mind. I got to go. Thanks for picking me," Tyson said, flashing a weak insincere smile, attempting to leave. But as he turned toward the door, one of the men grabbed him.

"You're not going anywhere, kid," he said, and slapped Tyson hard across the face. It hurt, and left a red impression on his cheek. Almost crying, the boy hissed out, pleading. "What do you guys want from me?"

"Take off your clothes," the director said softly.

"No, I won't do that," Tyson said. Tyson was wearing a tie- dyed summer sports shirt, Levis, hightops, cotton socks, Hanes briefs.

"Alright then, bring him over to the bed, hold him down, and strip him," the director said.

"Like Hell you will, you fucking pervs!"

Tyson tried desperately to escape, punching and kicking at his captors, struggling for all he was worth at first but then he was held fast by all two men with the exception of the director and the camera guy, one of the men was holding a digital video mini-cam, and they managed to half drag and half plop the kicking and screaming boy onto the King-sized bed and soon Tyson was face-down on the bedspread. As one man held his shoulders in a vise-grip, another kept trying to grab Tyson's wildly flailing legs, and after being kicked hard several times, another of the men succeeded in sitting on the boy's thighs, pinning them, while a third one untied Tyson's laces on his right hightop sneaker, the camera came on, was in record mode, holding the boy's right foot steady, the man removed the sneaker, then bared Tyson's right foot by peeling off the sock; after some further struggle, the same man succeeded in removing the left hightop and sock, the boy was still struggling and flailing and kicking, then Tyson felt his shirt being pulled off and over his head, removed entirely, shirtless and barefoot, the still struggling boy was turned over onto his backside, slapped again in the face, harder this time, punched in the arm. Someone undid his belt buckle, unzipped his fly, began pulling his Levis down his squirming but no longer flailing legs (somebody was digging their fingernails into his bare soles and twisting his toes the more he resisted). He felt the jeans twisted off his feet and heard them as they were tossed across the suite onto the nearby table as it was his own belt buckle smacking the surface. Stripped to his briefs, Tyson felt very vulnerable. "You fucking bastards!" he yelled. Hearing that outburst, someone punched Tyson in the mouth, making his lip bleed, and the boy tasted his own blood. The punch also chipped one of Tyson's teeth, a molar fortunately. He began drifting off toward a moment of blissful unconsciousness until he heard somebody say "Briefs too?" as if in a dream, and the director said, "What do you think?" answering the question with a question. Still dazed, he felt somebody's fingers tugging at the waistband of his Hanes, pulling them down and off his legs too, now he started squirming a bit again, but stark naked, he was clearly being photographed.

"Spread-eagle him with the cuffs," the director ordered. He first felt his arms being extended above his head, and each wrist spread apart, cuffed to the bedposts there, and then his legs were spread way apart, and his feet roughly handled, and each ankle was secured with the handcuffs to the bedposts down by his feet. The camera guy was told to pan over Tyson's nude, spread-eagled, and shackled form. Tyson was now once again fully awake, but terribly frightened, and at the mercy of his captors. A bit the worse for wear, he showed only a few bruises on his body at that point.

"What are you guys going to do?" Tyson asked quietly, more subdued.

"We're just going to shoot a video," the director said. The cuffs had a few inches of slack chain so at least Tyson's feet were still placed comfortably on the wide hotel bed.

"Will we have to gag you?"

"No, I'll be good," Tyson whimpered. He was almost begging.

"We'll see," the director said, while fondling the boy's bare feet and toes. "Nice toenails too," he remarked. "The wire please," he said, almost like an afterthought. Someone handed him two ten inch lengths of barbed wire, the kind used to keep cattle from roaming the open range. The mini- cam zoomed in for an extreme close-up. "This has to be done just right," the director added. He promptly donned thick work-gloves and without further adieu began winding and tying the strand of sharp multi-pointed barbed wire around Tyson's left bare foot, the barbs piercing the skin of the boy's sole and instep, making it bleed in several places, and then twisted the cruel wire in between each of his toes, as Tyson gritted his teeth as hard as he could. Moments later, the procedure was repeated, "Now for his right one." The horrid barbed wire was twisted several times around the bare foot, as the director made sure he'd cut the sensitive skin in-between each of the boy's toes.

"There," and the camera now revealed a boy in extreme pain, tears flowing freely but gritting his teeth with his feet wrapped in the barbed wire, the camera's extreme close-up clearly showing Tyson's lacerated feet.

"That should hold him a little steadier," someone said.

But now the camera snaked in for a close-up of the boy's snake, his 13-year-old penis, a sparse growth of pubic hairs just starting near its base, and his soft, tender testicles. Below that, because of the boy being spread-eagled, even Tyson's perineum was exposed in all its glory to the busy camera.

"Oh, what a pretty little cock this kid has. Let's see if it has any spunk in it," the director said.

"Do you jerk off?" he asked casually.

The boy's face turned crimson with embarrassment. A trace of defiance still remained too. "None of your business!" Tyson hissed.

"Better cooperate," one of the guys said, twisting the barbed wire around Tyson's already cut and bare left foot, digging it in deeper into the naked sole and between the boy's toes. Tyson let out a gasp, almost a scream, but he didn't want to be gagged so he restrained himself again. "I'll be good," he managed, sobbing softly.

"Alright then," I want you to think of a pretty girl, or whatever else you think of to make you lose your spunk, and try to block out the pain in your feet," the director purred.

"Okay, I'll try," Tyson said.

Picking up Tyson's penis by the base, the director began stroking it gently, also tickling the boy's balls and near his asshole with a spider's touch. It felt very good and Tyson began getting hard, despite his best efforts to stay flaccid.

"He's going to be a macho man," the director said, "but not quite yet." Tickling Tyson's penis, the director grasped it firmly, and then his tongue snaked out, and the director began licking around the circumcised head of the boy's glans, and then Tyson felt his four-inch hard-on engulfed deep into the director's mouth – all for the camera's benefit. Despite his tortured feet and perhaps because of them, Tyson moaned in ecstasy from the myriad of sensations, and began moving his hips with his penis in the man's mouth. Suddenly the director spat out the wet and glistening organ, but continued tickling the boy everywhere within reach – chest, belly, tweaking Tyson's sensitive nipples, "Owwh!" the boy yelled, left than a hard painful tweak to the boy's right nipple, in-between a few more licks and gentle love- bites, nibbles on the tender skin of Tyson's glans, and then the director moved his head away, continuing only with his fingers on the boy, and suddenly during all this attention, the boy ejaculated, his excited cock performing for the camera. Several spurts of thirteen-year-old's near virgin cum landing on his belly and chest.

"How did that feel?" the director asked.

"I feel like I've just been raped!" Tyson murmured angrily in another spasm of boyish rage.

"Oh, so you didn't like it? Then you'll have to be punished again," the director said, a sentiment echoed by the four other men also populating the suite.

"I didn't mean it," said Tyson, realizing that he should have said something nicer.

"Too late," the director said. The boy's spattered cum was cleaned up and removed from his bare belly and chest. His genitals were washed with a soapy wash cloth and then immediately dried in preparation for what would happen next.

The mini-cam focused on several instruments brought into view and displayed on a hotel breakfast-in-bed platter. All were tiny; a 2 inch long sewing needle, a sharp-pointed vulture's feather, a burr of pine needles. As one of the assistants held up Tyson's cute four-inch long penis, the director used thumb and index fingers to open up the boy's peehole a bit. The orifice still glistened with a leftover drop of semen which reflected off the camera's lens. With the digital video mini-cam again in ECU mode, the director patiently massaged the boy to erection as he'd done a few moments before, then he began deftly threading the burr of pine needles into the kid's hard-on, insert a little at a time, until the foreign object was embedded about two inches deep. The boy was still gritting his teeth, almost grinding them together, as the boy's terror and an unpleasant sensation began to increase, and then it became painful as the director slowly twisted the pine burrs around and moved them in and out, massaging the impaled penis with the burrs in it, and when the burrs were pulled out against their grain, the pain suddenly became excruciating, and Tyson began screaming for the camera's built in audio mike, especially as the burr came out and went back in and was slowly dragged out again a millimeter at a time. "Yeowwh!" became the boy's refrain, and the camera panned up to Tyson's sobbing face and back down his naked body to his glans penis, viewed most advantageously in an ECU shot.

The thirteen-year-old was allowed to rest for a few moments, and then despite his protests, screams, and tears, the long feather was inserted as the pine burrs had been – straight into the boy's now very tender urethral opening, with similar results. Other long needles were jabbed into different exposed areas of the boy's body – his nipples were soon bleeding, as were his two areas on the boy's sensitive scrotum. The original needle was re-used after being dipped into a powerful disinfectant. It was jabbed under each of Tyson's toenails, one at a time, but the needle went probing again and again. His left foot and next his right was held at the ankle so this punishment could be accomplished more easily, as Tyson squirmed and thrashed and bawled like a baby.

Tyson was bleeding in many spots now, blood trickling. The cruel barbed wire was re-twisted around each foot as the needles worked his toenails for the camera, and his penis was also bleeding slightly, and in a grand finale, the long needle was carefully inched all the way into his hard-on, as the director twisted and pinched and worked the sharp point around and around deep inside the boy's erection – and the camera clicked on and on for what seemed to the boy like forever and a day – but was probably not more than an hour.

Tyson was allowed to dress again, and handed a one-hundred dollar bill before he left. He was told that the video would appear on the Internet and be seen throughout the world. He found his own way out and scurried to the elevator. Once back in the hotel's lobby, the boy didn't linger. He didn't know what to think, except that his body was very sore in its most sensitive places. "I'll never do anything like that again," he said to himself out loud when he was back walking to the bus stop on the busy downtown street.

"Did you get your work done at the library?" Tyson's mother asked sweetly when he came back into their house.

"Yes, I went downtown" he fibbed again. He was back upstairs into his bedroom in a flash and closed his door, which was a bit unusual for this typically gregarious young teenager.

About a week later, when all the soreness was gone and Tyson was again able to masturbate, something odd happened. He imagined being handcuffed and spread-eagled on his own bed and...

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