One photo two stories – The debt
A teenager and his father are forced into humiliating sexual acts for an audience.
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Blackness. Then a blurry image that slowly resolves to reveal two males sitting on a couch. One is in his 40s, the other is a teenager. Both are glowering at the camera.
A voice speaks from off camera.
“Welcome dear viewers. Today you are in for a special treat. Before you, you can see Juan and his son Santiago. Juan owes me a lot of money, which he has not paid, despite a number of requests. So now, because they don’t want to watch their family die a particularly painful death, they’re going to pay off their debt a different way.”
Although Santiago’s skin had the natural dusky tan of a Mexican native, his colour visibly paled. An expression between terror and hatred was painted onto his face.
The camera panned to show his mother and little sister cowering on the floor, under guard near the window.
“Without any further delay, let’s get started shall we? Take your trousers and underwear off and throw them to the side.”
Juan begged, “Please Calaca, don’t do this. It’s not from disrespect that I haven’t paid you, but I lost my job, and my wife’s…”
The voice interrupted.
“Stop! I’ve heard enough of your tragic stories Juan. Undress or die. No more delays.”
Juan looked past the camera and stopped. Something he saw there convinced him that further delay was futile. He lowered his head defeated, then looked slowly to his son who was awaiting the outcome of the exchange. Without another word, Juan stood and removed his trousers, sliding them past sock-covered feet. Then he lowered his old white y-fronts, allowing them to puddle on the floor on top of his trousers. He kicked his trousers and underpants to the side.
Santiago watched his father strip. He couldn’t ever remember seeing the man naked. He kicked off his high tops, then stood up and lowered his baggy sweat pants. He swallowed hard, then in a single motion, dropped his cotton boxers to the floor, wishing with all his heart that he hadn’t chosen today wear jaunty cartoon print underwear. His genitals flopped free, and his instinct told him to cover up, but he wasn’t going to give Calaca or his thugs the satisfaction. He sat down again with his arms defiantly crossed, knees apart in forced nonchalance, and glowered towards Calaca, painfully aware that his mother and sister were watching.
Calaca stared with amusement at the boy’s genitals. They were heavy and brown. He had a decent five inches of soft meat, with a long puckered foreskin. Beneath were a good sized pair of balls and he had a thick bush. Calaca glanced at Juan’s genitals – thick, six inches soft, a much darker brown with pubic hair that was the mirror of his son’s.
“Well well, like father like son. Not quite, but close enough. Don’t you guys have no toys to play with in this house?” Calaca asked. The armed men behind him cackled.
“Alright, enough sitting around, why don’t you two start by jacking each other off?”
Santiago and his father both looked horrified and disgusted in equal measure, and neither moved to comply. After a few seconds, Calaca said, “We’re not here for the fucking good of our health. Get busy!” His tone was terse, his voice hostile, and his Mexican accent thick. Santiago and his father looked at each other, but neither of them moved to obey.
“Right, V, cut the fucking kid’s balls off right now!” Calaca ordered.
A powerful man wearing a bandana, tied pirate style with a wide front, walked into shot, extracting an oversized bowie knife from a belt sheath. Santiago looked at the man in horror, and leapt to his feet as though he was going to try to jump back over the couch. The man grabbed the front of the kid’s t-shirt and effortlessly pushed him back onto the couch. He released the front of the boy’s shirt and went for his balls.
“No, no, no don’t!” Santiago screamed in a mortal panic. “Please!”
He struggled to protect his balls so the thug raised the four inch thick razor sharp blade to the boy’s throat. The kid’s eyes widened and he moved his head back away from the blade, momentarily distracted. The instant he did, he felt V’s hand roughly gripping both balls. He tensed and grimaced against the pain, then remained absolutely still, hoping somehow that his total lack of movement would be recognised as surrender. V pulled the boy’s nuts downwards, and lowered the blade, positioning it in front of the stretched neck of Santiago’s scrotum.
Juan looked at Calaca, his face beseeching.
“Please Calaca. Don’t hurt my boy. We’ll do whatever you say!”
V looked to Calaca for confirmation before removing the boy’s testicles. Calaca raised a hand.
“Let the kid go. Maybe something less… permanent will remind him not to fuck with me for now.”
V released Santiago, then gave the kid a vicious punch in the stomach that caught the boy by surprise. Santiago doubled over, winded and coughing, one arm across his stomach and the other hand cupping his aching nuts. V released him and walked back out of shot, laughing to his colleagues.
Calaca allowed the boy to splutter for a minute until he regained a semblance of composure.
“All right motherfuckers. Time to get busy. No more messing if you don’t want to be wearing those nuts as earrings”
The boy looked up, purple faced, with hatred and fear in his eyes. His eyes were watery. His father took the initiative, and reached across and gripped Santiago’s penis, and slowly started jacking it up and down. Santiago looked at his dad with revulsion, but Juan knew that he was doing it for their lives. He looked back at his son and gave a curt nod.
“You too Tiago. You have to do it as well.”
Santiago looked at his father’s sad face, and he knew that his father spoke the truth. He reached across to his father’s lap and lifted the man’s hefty penis in his fist. It was hot. Santiago was surprised. He wondered if his dick was hot when he jerked off and he’d simply never noticed it, or if his was simply cooler. In spite of the repugnance of the situation, Santiago’s mind was still processing irrelevant information. His dad’s dick was definitely a lot thicker than his, and he could see that his balls were bigger too. He artlessly pumped his father’s penis up and down, and he could feel his father doing the same to him.
Santiago’s girlfriend jacked him off sometimes, when he got blue balls. She wouldn’t let him fuck her yet, but she was happy enough to ease his frustration when he needed it. She wasn’t good at it at all, and Santiago didn’t know his own body well enough to coach her, so instead, all he did was give her simple commands: “faster, squeeze harder, don’t pull so low, almost there.” His father was a lot better at it. He knew to concentrate his attention and his hand pressure on his son’s glans. Santiago could feel the tingling of excitement in his balls. He copied his father’s motions. But the ache in Santiago’s balls, and the danger and unpleasantness of the situation was too overpowering, so neither of them got hard, although Santiago’s penis inflated a little.
After five minutes of watching Santiago and Juan tugging on each other’s penises without producing an erection, Calaca grew irritated.
“You fuckers are useless. I need more than that. Get down and suck each other. And you’d better make a fucking better job of it than you just did.”
Juan looked at Calaca with an expression of resigned sadness, then at his wife, holding their daughter across the room. They locked eyes, and something passed between them. Permission. Absolution. He lowered his head to his son’s lap. Santiago’s eyes opened comically wide as he felt his father’s tongue on his helmet. He sat bolt upright, then arched back, pushing himself into the couch with his legs, as his dad licked at him.
The thugs laughed, and one of the men said, “First time huh kid? Looks like your dad sucks dick reaaal good too.”
Santiago looked at the speaker, with his mouth agape, then scrunched his lips into a tight line and scowled at the man resentfully. But he couldn’t deny the truth of the man’s words.
Santiago hadn’t yet persuaded his girlfriend to give him blowjob, but to his inexperienced mind, his dad sure seemed to give great head. In spite of himself, he felt his dick rapidly hardening. He didn’t want to get hard in front of these guys, and especially not his mother and sister, so he leaned towards his dad’s lap in the hopes of distracting him, unaware of the mechanics of mutual fellatio. But of course, his father’s back was in the way.
“Looks like baboso’s first time at 69.” V sneered. “Hey retard, that’s not how you do it. You’re gonna have to lay side by side.”
Santiago looked at the speaker. He could feel that his dick was fully hard now. Achingly hard. He didn’t want them to see it, but his father had already responded to the comment and sat up ready to move. Santiago’s rigid bone sprang free from his dad’s mouth.
“Ha ha, looks like your dad really knows what he’s doing puta, and it looks like you really like it. Maybe you two will be spending a lot more time together in future, eh?”
Santiago looked sick. He didn’t dare answer back, and now he felt more like crying than rebelling. His brow was so deeply furrowed, it was impairing his vision, and his mouth was so tightly screwed up that it formed a small bud, like a puckered asshole underneath his nose.
He glanced at his mother expecting to see disgust, but all he saw was sympathy. He wished she would just close her eyes and not watch at all, but she was paying close attention to what he was doing.
His father lay sideways on the couch, with his back to the camera, and his head towards Santiago’s groin. Just before he lay fully down, Juan made eye contact with his son, and firmly pushed the kid’s shoulder in the opposite direction, urging the boy to move his head towards his groin. Santiago took the hint, and lay with his own head facing his father’s large flaccid dick. He could smell the stale sweat on it. The man hadn’t showered since returning from working all day in the stifling humidity of the Sitala summer. Santiago lifted his father’s penis between his four fingers and thumb, and moved his hand towards its base to unskin the large head. It was a pinker colour than the rest of his penis. The kid moved his mouth towards it, and caught movement in his peripheral vision. One of the two cameramen had moved close and was above looking down, aiming the video camera at his head. The audience would be able to see everything. Santiago paused momentarily, appalled at what he was about to do. Then he felt his father’s tongue on his straining penis. He was nauseated at how eagerly his body responded to the attention. His dick felt bloated and his balls were churning like they only did when he had been horny all day, and he was close to release.
He took his dad’s cock head gingerly between his lips, reluctant to taste it, but desperate to distract himself in the hope that his body wouldn’t betray him any further. He timidly moved his head back and forth, rubbing his lips over his father’s glans. Juan’s penis didn’t react, and Santiago felt an odd pressure to make his father’s penis respond as his had. He poked out his tongue, and cautiously licked at his father’s glans. Immediately, he felt his father’s dick thickening in his hand, and he felt a perverse sense of satisfaction that his father had no greater self-control than he did.
“Hey, looks like tragaleche is really getting into it,” one of the watchers said.
“Tragaleche” was an obscure Latin-American homophobic insult that literally translated as “milk drinker”. Santiago didn’t dare to think about the insult. He licked at the back of his father’s delicate fraenulum and along the flared base of the man’s rapidly hardening dick, trying hard now, against all logic, to stimulate his father to the best of his ability.
But suddenly, to his horror, he felt the familiar surge in his balls. He recoiled his head from his father, allowing the man’s penis to pop from his mouth, as he shoved his dad away in a panic. His father fell onto the floor heavily, but Santiago wasn’t quick enough. Even as his father was hitting the bare wooden planks, a massive eruption of sparkling, off-white semen was gushing from his penis in the same direction as his father had gone. Santiago grabbed at his penis in horror, hoping to hide his shame behind cupped hands, but his penis was too hard to bend, and his orgasm was too powerful, so all he succeeded in doing was delivering the remaining eight jets up onto the couch where his father had just been laying. His sister watched uncomprehending. His mother understood exactly what she was seeing, and she understood why her son had suddenly panicked, partly from a desire to avoid an orgasm, and partly to avoid ejaculating into his father’s mouth. There was no judgement in her eyes, but despite the overwhelming fear of their captivity, she was surprised at how quickly her boy had progressed from complete disinterest to monumental orgasm. As virile as Juan was, even he had never produced such vast quantities of semen.
The close up cameraman jumped back in surprise.
“Whoa, motherfucker! You filthy Maricón. Jesus!” the man exclaimed.
“Mother of Christ!” another voice added.
“Dirty puta!” another added chuckling, and the men all started laughing at Santiago’s youthful lust. Santiago glowed red with humiliation, and he looked down at his father. His father was clambering to his knees, and there was a huge rivulet of his son’s cum running down his brown hoodie starting at his throat where it had hit him. He looked down at it then wiped it away with the sleeve.
Santiago sat upright, shame faced, looking down at his knees, with hands cupping his balls but failing to completely hide his rigid erection.
Juan rose and rubbed his son’s slime into the couch, then sat in the wetness beside his son, not bothering to hide his own seven inch erection.
“Well, now that you two faggots are warmed up, you can try jacking each other again,” Calaca said.
Juan complied slowly, but Santiago was still a little shell-shocked. His father started tugging at him, and the last few globs of goo were milked from him, and slowly dribbled their way down the back of his throbbing cock. Santiago watched, almost detached from what his father was doing until his father hissed, “Tiago. You too.”
Santiago was mortified that his mother had just seen him cum, and so quickly and hard. The boy looked towards his father’s hard penis, neither looking up towards the watching men, his mother and sister, nor making eye contact with his dad. Then he slowly reached out, like he was in a daze, and gripped his father’s dick. It was too thick to fully wrap his fist around. It made him feel like a little boy. He pumped, no longer interested in making his father feel good. Someone took a photo.
Both of them were utterly rigid, and Calaca allowed them to work on each other for more than ten minutes. Santiago’s disinterested jacking was enough to keep his father hard, but not enough to get him particularly excited. But he on the other hand, was young and horny enough that now it had been aroused, his body quickly responded to his father’s efforts, in spite of his recent orgasm.
“Looks like this horny fucking mutt is almost ready to shoot his load again,” Calaca said.
The watchers could see a generous trickle of thick, clear precum running down the back of the boy’s dick. Santiago and his father looked up at Calaca as he spoke, then they both looked down at the boy’s penis. Santiago felt nothing but the deepest loathing at how easily his body could be forced to that level of arousal.
“Quickly, finish him off so that we can all go home,” Calaca said.
Juan nodded and gripped his son’s penis in a fist, then started rapidly pounding on the kid, with long strokes. On each down stroke, his fist lightly tapped the kid in the balls, and for some reason, the sensation got Santiago even more excited. He could feel his excitement rising and another imminent orgasm. He stopped working on his dad, sat back and allowed it to happen without resistance, hoping that once he had cum a second time, the men would leave their home and allow his family to continue with the rest of their lives.
His orgasm arrived without announcement. One second there was the wet slurping sound as his dad pumped his precum-lubed cock, and the next he was spraying his adolescent goo again. It was nowhere near as copious as the first time, but it still launched six inches into the air before landing back on his dad’s fist in a series of splats. His dad continued pumping long after he had finished, and Santiago accepted the soreness of post orgasm masturbation without reaction.
“Well you are one horny fucker,” Calaca said, “but you still haven’t returned the favour to your father. I think it’s about time you did. Get down on your hands and knees.”
Santiago frowned at Calaca, uncertain about the purpose of the man’s instructions.
“Don’t sit there fucking looking at me puta, down, NOW!”
Santiago did as he was told.
“Good, now you Juan, his ass is yours. I want you to fuck him like it’s your first time after three years in the castle.”
Juan understood the prison reference. If he could just kill himself and his family now, in a single stroke, to avoid them going through any more, he’d do so. What they’d already been forced to do was disgusting, but this was beyond depraved. But he couldn’t just snuff his family out cleanly, and loathsome as the situation was, he was going to do whatever it took to avoid watching them get tortured to death.
He looked at Calaca.
“I can’t do it dry.”
“Use the stuff on your hand,” Calaca responded, indicating Santiago’s fresh deposit of semen .
Juan looked down at it, then back at Calaca. He wanted to rip the man apart limb from limb and torture him to death slowly. Instead, he carefully gathered his son’s semen from his right fist using the fingers of his left hand. Then, he used his right hand to spread his son’s ass-cheeks, before spreading the boy’s slime back onto him. He carefully positioned the head of his stiff dick against his son’s hole.
He leaned forwards and whispered, “I’m sorry my son.” Then he started to push, gently.
Santiago clenched his teeth and resisted. His expression turned into a full grimace with teeth bared and for the first time since their ordeal had begun, he started to cry, snivelling, little boy tears.
“No dad,” he grizzled, knowing that his father didn’t dare to obey, “pleeeease!”
“Relax, it’ll go easier,” his dad cooed, and kept pushing. Juan felt his son relaxing, his trust in his father still pitifully intact in spite of the trouble Juan had brought down upon him. It broke Juan’s heart to think about. He felt his son’s hole slowly spreading, but he knew he had a thick dick, so he wanted to go slow to avoid harming his son. Calaca had other ideas.
“What is this, fucking ladies night? Start fucking!”
“Sorry Tiago,” Juan whispered, then thrust his cock all the way in, tearing his son’s sphincter in half a dozen places as he entered him. The boy screamed in pain and tried to pull away from his father, but Juan held him by the hips so that he couldn’t escape. He started fucking his son with strong, deliberate strokes, but Calaca still wanted more.
“Good, but you can do better. I want you to pound his ass so hard and fast that he can’t walk for a month!”
Juan looked at him with disgust, but complied, pounding his cock hard and deep into his son’s hole.
V walked over and unzipped his flies. His dick was standing up to attention.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered Santiago. The boy did not comply, so V gripped him by the cheeks, squeezing the soft flesh against the boy’s teeth until he was forced to obey. As soon as he did so, V thrust his erection into the boy’s mouth and gripped the back of Santiago’s head with both hands. “If you try to bite me, your sister is going to take your place,” V hissed at him. Santiago glanced sideways at his little sister, sitting terrified beside his mother, and allowed V to face fuck him. The man only had five and a half inches, but with each thrust, he pounded balls deep, pulling Santiago’s head towards him. He thrust in time with Santiago’s father, filling the kid at both ends.
“Don’t cum in his hole,” Calaca warned Juan. “Pull out and do it on his back.” Juan looked at Calaca with an expression of utmost disgust, but continued fucking his son hard.
Santiago had finally lost his erection, and his soft cock and balls bounced and jiggled with each thrust.
Juan continued pounding, and Santiago could feel his bowels filling with each stroke, his destroyed hole was a mass of pain, but at the other end, V was stretching his throat in time with his father’s fucking. Santiago didn’t know where to send his attention. He was no longer concerned about his own earlier arousal, but he felt like nothing more than a pig, to be poked and filled by his father and the bastard in front. Both, slamming into him, stretching and filling him in perfect symmetry.
His father started grunting, and Santiago’s asshole was suddenly empty, although the pain didn’t diminish in the slightest. He was peripherally aware of his father’s goo splashing onto his back, from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck. As repellent as that thought was, V was still pounding his face. He felt warmth flowing down his throat. V slowed, and eventually withdrew his cock from the kid’s throat. The boy coughed and spluttered, but V had seeded him too deeply, and the man’s cum was already mixing in his stomach, with the cereal Santiago had eaten earlier. He was not going to get the taste of the man’s spunk out of his mouth for years.
V wiped his slimy cock over the boy’s lips and eyes, and his colleagues laughed.
“That’s nasty man,” one of them said.
Calaca walked up behind the boy, pushing Juan to the side. He reached between the boy’s legs and firmly gripped his balls. In spite of all his pain, Santiago felt a shiver run down his spine. Calaca yanked the boy’s nuts hard up between his legs. Santiago yelped. Calaca pulled out a switchblade and held it against the boy’s nuts. Santiago tensed against the inevitable. For a moment, Calaca considered castrating the boy. But that would make him a martyr, and the family would have the neighbourhood’s sympathy, whereas if he left them essentially unharmed, Juan and Santiago would be viewed with contempt for surrendering to Calaca’s demands.
Calaca put away the knife, but yanked the boy’s nuts as high as he could, lifting the boy off his feet so that only his hands were touching the floor. Squeezing the boy’s nuts in his fist, he turned to Juan.
“Don’t make me come back Juan. Next time I won’t be so… nice.”
He dropped the boy, and Santiago collapsed holding himself and sobbing.
Calaca and his men left, and Juan and Santiago remained to cope with life and the knowledge of what they had done to each other…
The photograph below inspired me. Lots of older/younger sites are pretty bland and uninteresting, but there’s something about the obvious arousal of these two, coupled with their apparent resentment that got my mind whirring.
I came up with two scenarios to explain it. This was the second.
I’ll write the other some day.