Party Piece

Forced milking, humiliation, edging, rape

A young man becomes the unwilling guest of honour at an unusual party.

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Party Piece

Mike placed the bottle of whiskey into a brown paper bag. New Holland Zeppelin. It was expensive, but not ludicrously so. $150 for the bottle. The customer picked up the bag and Mike returned the man’s credit card to him.

“Thank you, Mike.”

Mike did a double take. He was wearing a name badge, but there was something familiar about the man.

“I’m sorry but do I know you?”

The man flashed him an inscrutable smile.

As he left the liquor store, he said, “Oh yes, I should say so. It’s good to see you earning an honest living now.”

Mike frowned. An image slammed into his memory: it was the image of an event that had happened six months ago…




Mike was normally proud of his boner. More than proud. It curved upwards towards a perfectly circumcised glans. When he was hot for a girl, it got so hard it was like a bar protruding from him; not so much a hinged attachment to his groin as a rigid, inflexible steel rod welded to it.

When he was very turned on, it angled up from his body at about 30 degrees above horizontal. Now it stood up at almost 70.

His dick was very pink and clean-looking. A former fuck had once told him it was baby pink. He’d laughed at the time. It was coloured as though he had not started puberty and even his equally smooth pink balls had a prepubertal quality to them, but no baby had a dick like his. It was above average in thickness, and almost eight inches in length. He jokingly called it his kidney poker.


But he was not laughing now; he was moaning and slowly thrusting his hips back and forth in the air. The dildo in his asshole was buzzing continuously, turning him on as if he was some kind of homo. He looked at the men sitting in front of him. They were enthusiastically applauding the black man who was stroking Mike’s dick. Mike looked down at his cock. A long, sticky stream of clear precum swung back and forth from its eye. It was matched by an equally long stream of saliva dribbling from his gagged mouth. He felt deep shame in front of this audience at his body’s unwanted response to a male touching him. But he was also desperately horny.

To his side, a man in an expensive open-collared shirt made a mark beside the name David on a large white board that stood on a tripod. He placed a check mark in the columns labelled “Leaking” and “Drooling”. The double. Few men could pull it off. To make an unwilling victim so horny that he drooled at both ends like an oversexed dog.


Mike could not see the front of the board, but there were nine pre-printed columns. They were labelled, “Panting, “Whimpering”, “Moaning”, “Begging”, “Squirming”, “Drooling”, “Air fucking” and “Leaking”. There was one more column separated from the others. It was labelled “Orgasm”. It was the only one written in red.


Mike was hanging by his wide-spread arms from a metal girder that crossed the ceiling of the airy and stylish ground-floor living room in an expensive house.

The house’s tasteful, modern design and its secluded main room were what had attracted Mike to it, and was now the cause of his downfall.


Three hours earlier

Mike spent his days in college, but at night he was not averse to visiting homes in the nearby wealthy neighbourhoods and relieving their absent owners of their cash and belongings. Of course, security systems were an ever-present hazard. He always scouted for alarms and cameras before attempting to make entry, but this place seemed devoid of either. Suspiciously so, if he had only stopped to think about it.

He crept in through an unlocked bathroom window and made his way to the bedroom, where experience had taught him the most valuable items were to be found. To his surprise, there were no signs that the home was shared by a woman.

“Hope John Wick doesn’t live here!” he thought to himself with a half-smile.

He made his way to the bedside table, pulled open a drawer and looked inside.

A voice from behind him said, “I hope you’re enjoying my home.”

Mike whirled around to see a man standing there pointing something in his direction. Before he could react, there was a click, then something tiny flew towards him. It hit his torso and he felt an immediate jolt as though he’d been punched in the chest, then his thoughts were scrambled by a 50,000-volt blast of electricity and he crumpled to the ground.

By the time he had regained control of his senses, he was hanging naked in the living room.


Mike looked down at his nude body then up at the man standing in front of him. The man was dark haired, slim, refined-looking, in his 40s; two- or three-times Mike’s age. Mike doubted the man would present much of a physical threat under normal circumstances.

“What the fuck have you done to me?!” he demanded.

“You broke into my house. I’m going to have a little fun with you before I let you go. Or I can phone the police and have them deal with you. It’s up to you.”

Mike scowled at him.

Reluctantly, he asked, “What kind of fun?”

The man walked closer and caressed the boy’s soft, wrinkled scrotum. Mike, twisted and tried to kick the man.

“Get the fuck away from me queer!”

“Uh, uh, uh. Manners.”

The man walked behind the teenager and pressed something to his rump. Mike yelped and thrust his hips forwards, trying unsuccessfully to outrange the stun gun that was delivering 100,000 volts into his bottom. The man held it in place for five seconds, and when he pulled it away, Mike collapsed moaning, his thighs trembling as though there was still current passing through them.

“Ah I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

The man gently fondled the teenager’s heavy scrotum. This time, Mike did not resist.

“Yes, you did, but that’s okay. I forgive you. We’ll soon have you singing a different tune.”

“What does THAT mean?”

“It means that before you leave tonight, you’re going to feel very differently about having this beautiful cock of yours touched by another man.”

Mike frowned, not understanding the man’s insinuation.

“So, can I assume,” the man continued, “that you choose to stay and have fun rather than me calling the police?”

“I guess so. It’s not like I have much choice do I?” Mike scowled.

“You always have a choice young man. You can risk the police and prison, or you can spend a single evening with me and my friends. I imagine a pretty ass like yours would be VERY popular in prison.”

Mike cringed at the thought.

“No police.”


The man smiled, picked his cell phone up off a sideboard and dialled a number.

“Hello James. We have a new visitor. Please invite the others. Yes, he’s already prepared. Dirty blonde hair. Nice muscle definition. Sparkling blue eyes.”

The man stopped and looked at Mike’s genitals.

“Hmmm, about four and a half inches soft. I don’t know; I haven’t seen him hard yet. Lovely ripe balls though. I think he’s going to be a lot of fun. Shall we say, seven O’clock? Okay, see you soon.”


An hour later, nine men stood in the man’s high-roofed living room. Mike didn’t know if he felt more exposed because of them, or the fact that the 20 foot high main wall was made entirely of glass.

“Oh Steven, you’ve caught another one? They do keep falling for it huh? Little scamps. How old is this one? He looks quite young.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him much. Son, what’s your name and how old are you?”

“Mike,” the teen scowled, “I’m 19. Look, what the fuck is happening here?”

Steven smiled.

“You’re going to provide us with a couple of hours of entertainment. Nothing too outlandish. Then if you’re a good boy, you get to go home and we never see each other again.”


Steven had moved his expensive chrome and Italian leather couches and chairs into a semi-circle at a distance of about ten feet around the place where Mike was strung up. He gestured to the furniture, inviting his guests to sit.

“You know the rules gentlemen. You each get five minutes, with a two-minute cool down between each of you. If he cums, there’s a five-minute cool down. The one with the most points by 10pm takes the pot. Shall we say two hundred each just to keep it friendly?”

The other men nodded amiably and Steven passed among them with a bowl collecting each man’s financial contribution.

“Okay, write your names on one of these pieces of paper, and we’ll draw them at random to work out the player order.”

His guests wrote their names on Post It notes that were balled and selected at random. Steven wrote the order of the names as they were chosen.

“Oh, first again? Damn, that’s three times now,” an older man said.

“Bad luck Julian, but you can pick up points in the second round when he’s warmed up. Hope you’ve been practicing?”

“Only on the pool boy.”

Several of the men laughed.

“Julian, is that boy even old enough to drive yet? You really are incorrigible!”


“Okay, well you all know the rules,” Steven interjected. “Shall we get Mike warmed up?”

The guests nodded or murmured their assent and Steven disappeared into another room. A few moments later, he returned carrying an object attached to a power cable. Mike looked at it and recognised it as a butt plug.

“What are you doing with that? You’re not putting that in my asshole!”

Steven smiled.

“I most certainly AM putting it into your asshole.”

He imitated the crude way the boy pronounced “asshole”. His friends chuckled at his mimicry.

“You’re fucking not!” Mike said, raising his voice as he watched Steven lube the tip of the rubber cock.

“I fucking am!” Steven said, repeating Mike’s speech patterns and deepening his voice to sound more thuggish.

His friends roared with laughter as Steven played at being poor white trash.

He walked towards Mike and the youth twisted and turned, trying to make it difficult for the man to reach his bottom. But with his arms pulled so wide above his head, his ability to rotate his body was limited. He lifted both feet off the floor, raising his knees towards his chest as though he could somehow pull himself up into the roof.

“Thank you, that makes it much easier,” Steven said, swiftly pressing the tip of the small metal-tipped rubber cone against the boy’s now-defenceless hole.

Mike immediately realised his mistake and dropped his feet back down to the floor, but it was already too late. With a single firm push, Steven forced the plug into his hole. The lips of Mike’s sphincter snapped shut on the narrow rubber neck holding it in place.

Mike twisted and wriggled like an eel on a fishing line, trying desperately to shit the plug back out.

“Ahh no, get that fucking thing out of me you faggot!”

“Now, now Mike, we’ve already spoken about that sort of language. Now I’m not going to punish you because it would spoil our fun, but I AM going to have to do something about that potty mouth of yours.”

30 seconds later, Mike found his mouth filled with a red rubber ball gag that was held in place by leather straps that wrapped all around his head. With jaws stretched wide, he stared balefully at Steven.

“Alright, now we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get you warmed up.”

Steven plugged the butt plug into the mains and flipped a toggle switch on the cable. Mike felt a low tingling in his bottom as a gentle current stimulated his prostate.


Steven turned to his guests.

“What do you think, cock ring or no?”

“A metal cock ring against that beautiful pink skin would look breath-taking. Especially as he’s gone to the trouble to shave himself so smooth for us,” a Latino man said. “And it would maximise his assets.”

Mike wished with all his heart that he had not so carefully shaved his pubes just two days earlier. Now he felt as though he had simply packaged himself for these men to enjoy.

“That’s true Raul, but it seems a shame with balls like that to restrict them don’t you think?” another man offered, looking at Mike’s loose sack.

A third man chimed in.

“Without knowing how big he gets hard, a cock ring is more likely to impede his ability to ejaculate. Wouldn’t that defeat the whole object of the game?”

“Of course, William,” Steven said. “Don’t I feel silly! No cock ring it is then. Now why don’t I get you something to drink while we wait for sparky to work its magic?”

“I don’t think we’ll have long to wait,” William said nodding towards Mike.

The root of Mike’s penis stuck out from his groin at a perfect right angle as his penis responded to the anal stimulation, but the shaft formed a droopy 90 degree downwards curve, not yet properly erect. He looked down at himself, ashamed of his body’s gradual response to the prostate stimulation. He flushed red from his face to the bottom of his chest, his aggressive expression replaced by one of wretched humiliation.

“I do believe our angelic guest would rather not be getting an erection in front of us right now Steven,” William said.

“If a lazy lob is almost enough to reduce him to tears, then our young cat burglar is going to have wet cheeks long before the night is over,” another man said.

“Indeed Ross, I couldn’t agree more,” Steven concurred, “yet our guests are usually resilient. They get over the initial shame and soon discover… other issues to occupy their attention.”

Mike wondered how many others had been in his position before him. And what had happened to them afterwards.


A few minutes later, Steven’s guests sat holding drinks in expensive crystal glasses, and a few smoked cigars or foreign cigarettes.

For his part, Mike struggled to prevent his downwards curving semi from turning into a full erection.

Steven walked up to Mike. He gripped the boy’s testicles in their soft, pink bag and closed his fist around them.

Looking Mike in the eye, he said in a deadly serious voice, “Whatever you do, do NOT cum. Do you understand?”

He closed his fist, feeling the boy’s soft orbs compressing against his fingers. He continued to squeeze until Mike’s penis lost its curve and hung straight between his legs.

Mike’s eyes widened as he realised just how vulnerable he was. How totally he was at their mercy. How totally his BALLS were at their mercy. He’d seen documentaries about guys who had been kidnapped and sexually tortured before being murdered. And now he was in danger of becoming one of them. He nodded emphatically and Steven’s serious expression evaporated, transforming into a smile.

“Great, then you’ll be sleeping in your own bed tonight Mike, no problems.”


“Okay Julian,” Steven said, “you’re first up. James would you keep an eye on the time please.”

James looked at a chess clock on a side table.


Julian stood and looked towards Mike. There was a pot of stimulant oil on a tall ornamental table nearby. Julian poured some into his palm, then he approached Mike.

“Starting your time NOW Julian,” James said.

Julian lifted Mike’s now flaccid penis.

Standing to the side so that the others could see, Julian slowly smeared the floppy 5-inch meat tube with oil, stretching it in his fist as he did so. Mike twisted, trying to move his penis away from the man’s touch. Julian patiently followed, working his hand along the teen criminal’s shaft until every bit of it glistened with oil. It started to inflate slowly in the man’s hand.

Julian cooed softly to Mike.

“If you just relax, you’ll find your experience quite pleasurable.”

Mike looked at the man as though he was crazy.

Julian reached below Mike’s cock and slowly, gently, stroked the point where the boy’s frenulum pinched in between the curves of his glans. Mike had never had a girl treat his dick with such reverent tenderness. He groaned in dismay and tried again to pull his penis from Julian’s hand.

“You’ll soon be too tired to struggle son. You may as well surrender now to the inevitable.”

Mike recognised the likely truth in the man’s words, but ceasing to try would be like giving his assent to what they were doing to him, and his desire to assert his heterosexuality, even under these circumstances, was just too strong, so he continued to struggle.

But his penis didn’t care. Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or inflatable, it didn’t care. All it responded to was stimulation. Mike had managed to resist a full erection when all he had was an electro-stim butt plug in his asshole, but now that his dick was being touched, it lifted its head like a timid gopher looking out of its prairie burrow. It was not the rapid, almost cartoonishly fast inflation that he experienced when a new girl took off her top for the first time. Rather, it filled with slow steady pumps over the course of 30 seconds, until it stood tall.

“Thataboy,” Julian said softly.

He made an open fist with his right hand and wrapped it around Mike’s penis, then with just the very lightest touch, Julian ran his fist up and down the shaft in a traditional masturbation motion.

Mike continued pointlessly trying to avoid Julian’s teasing stroke for another minute until he realised his efforts were accomplishing nothing.

“The more you exert yourself, the more turned on it will make you,” Julian said.

Mike could feel the truth in the man’s words. Reluctantly, he collapsed and allowed the man to continue slowly masturbating him, but he felt as though he was allowing himself to be jacked off by his grandpa. He looked straight ahead at the opposite wall to avoid making eye contact with anyone in the room.

Julian smiled, and changed his tactic, running his oiled index finger around the edge of the boy’s blood-filled corona. Mike squirmed, but this time it was in response to the sensitivity of his tumescent penis. He let out a small involuntary moan and Steven placed a tick on the whiteboard under Julian’s name in the appropriate column.

Julian circled the oily tip of his index finger over the dome of Mike’s glans, polishing it lightly. Mike started to whimper, pulling his groin backwards as the touch sent little zaps down into his nuts as his hypersensitive nerve endings reacted. Steven placed another mark on the board next to Julian’s name.

Julian moved closer, pressing against the side of Mike’s body. Mike could feel the man’s trouser-covered erection pressing against his hip. It was smaller than his and not as hard.

“Ten seconds Julian,” James said.

Julian continued teasing Mike’s cock, dry humping the boy’s hip as the clock ran out. Then he stepped away with a smile.

“Thank you, sweetie.”


The next man up was Raul. He dropped straight to his knees and started to give Mike a very light blowjob, all the while, gripping his testicles, pulling and pumping them to control Mike’s arousal. Mike was quickly teased until he was whimpering.

“Look out Raul, he looks ready to blow at any moment,” Philip said.

Mike was squirming, not in an effort to avoid the man’s touch, but out of pleasure. His torso flushed pink. He felt his sap rising, rising… Then his nuts were being tugged low in his bag and squeezed as though his scrotum was a beanbag. He grunted in pain, and the surge dropped away, then the man was teasing him again, licking his head, rubbing his lips over the edge of the flared pink corona, massaging his nuts, lightly now.

“Not too hard on the squeezing please Raul,” Steven cautioned. “Remember we still have several hours to go yet.”

Raul started to massage Mike’s perineum, rubbing and lightly pinching it between his thumb and the side of his index finger. Mike had never before been touched there, but he felt as though it was charging his balls up, filling them with spunk, helping them to prepare for his eventual orgasm.

The man’s tongue was fiendish, arousing him expertly. Mike could feel his helmet swelling beneath it, straining despite himself, desperate to come. He moaned, in equal parts pleasure and disgust at how sickeningly eager he was to jizz. Mike was filled with self-loathing. He’d arrived at the house to steal the owner’s stuff, and instead here he was being sucked off by a homo in front of a roomful of queers, and what he most wanted was to come; to blow his load; to pop his cork; to spill his muck. He didn’t care if the man was a fag, Mike wanted to fill his mouth with his slop. He panted, eager to cross the threshold. It was coming. If he could just hide it. He remembered Steven’s warning, and at the last moment tried to resist, but he it was too late, he felt the rush, then pain as his nuts were squeezed hard again. He felt them in Raul’s firm grip.

“Ahhh,” he yelled. “Stop, please, no, my nuts!”

His words were unintelligible, but the intent was clear. Steven ticked off begging from the list. Then Raul pulled his head away and revealed the still achingly-hard shaft, curving up from the boy’s groin.


Brian stood up next. Mike was allowed two minutes to cool down, but his penis stayed rigid, like a finger pointing accusatorily towards the sky.

Brian gripped the boy’s bag.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt them,” he whispered.

He lightly massaged Mike’s testicles, switching between juggling them in his palm, and softly rolling them between his fingers.

At the same time, he lightly twisted the finger tips of his other hand around the boy’s corona as though screwing and unscrewing the lid of a bottle. Mike responded to the light touch, moaning softly. Brian alternated his attention between the boy’s glans and his face, trying carefully to gauge when the boy was getting close. Mike’s urethra thickened and Brian stopped touching him, instead he started lightly blowing air onto the teenage thief’s glans, and with the other hand, tweaking his nipples, pinching and twisting at them.

When the edge of the boy’s excitement had dissipated, Brian slowly, with the lightest possible touch, started masturbating Mike’s cock.

He turned to the audience.

“This kid’s prick is incredible. I don’t think we’ve ever had one so hard. It’s like steel.”

He returned his attention to Mike.

“Be honest kid; you’ve never been so horny have you?”

Mike grunted noncommittally and scowled. On a physical level, it was true. His dick had never been so hard, and he’d never felt so desperate to blow his load. But mentally, he was repulsed; deeply ashamed. He wasn’t a plaything for these faggots to get off on!

On the couch he could see that several of them were working their own erections through their trousers, and two of them had their dicks out and were openly masturbating. Mike was disgusted. Sick to his stomach. Then suddenly he was coming. Brian stopped masturbating him but it was too late. Mike’s dick launched three huge ropes of cum into the air towards the watching men. They travelled 6 feet towards them before splatting audibly to the black polished marble floor.

In spite of himself, Mike thrust his pelvis forwards multiple times, involuntarily trying to aid his powerful orgasm.

The watching audience let out a groan, followed by chuckles of laughter.

“Ohhh, blown it Brian. Minus 5 points!” one of them said.

Brian laughed and stepped away.

“Kid’s a damned walking hormone! Still, if he had to come, that’s the way to do it!”

He returned to a chair and sat, whilst the next man waited five minutes for Mike to recover.



By the end of the evening, each of the guests had had three turns and Mike had ejaculated five times. Every category on the white board had been checked off at least once, and most of them were checked multiple times.

Mike hung exhausted but his penis still stood valiantly hard, as it had almost uninterrupted for the past three hours.

“Okay, time to tot up the scores,” Steven said.

The men watched with interest as he tallied each man’s scores, deducting the points for the times that Mike had climaxed.

Steven turned to one of the men.

“Well done Philip, you win.”

He handed the man the money he had collected at the start, as the other clapped and congratulated the winner. Philip smiled and rose to his feet, working his cock hard in his fingers. Winning came with one additional prize.

When he was hard, Philip walked behind Mike and pulled the plug from the young burglar’s asshole. Then he swiftly replaced it with his own hard cock. Mike pleaded into his gag.

Philip murmured into the boy’s ear.

“Looks like you chose the wrong house to rob kid.”

On the words “like” and “house” he thrust his cock aggressively forwards, burying all six and a half inches in the college boy’s cherry hole. Philip gripped Mike’s left hip crest and fucked him savagely. With his other hand, he jacked the teenager off equally aggressively, holding Mike’s persistent erection in a tight fist.

“You lost to the wrong person kid. Philip hates low-life thieves,” William informed him.

Philip continued fucking the 19-year-old; raping his hole like a man with a point to make.

But this was no tender touch designed to keep him on edge, nor was the masturbating hand light any more. Philip wanted Mike to know who was in charge.

“Your asshole is mine!” he snarled. “Your cock is mine. And if I want them, your balls are mine. Just think about that next time you think about breaking into someone’s house, or you might end up leaving your balls behind when you leave.”

He bit the side of Mike’s neck. It was no sweetheart’s love bite. He drew a long trickle of blood. Mike was drooling behind the gag, screaming at the brutality of the fuck and the pain in his neck. Mike would have to wear his collars up for months to hide the bite mark.

Mike felt warmth in his ass. He thought Philip’s thick cock was drawing blood, but then he realised that the man was ejaculating, filling him with his seed. Philip snarled like a triumphant tiger as he flooded the college boy’s virgin asshole. He pounded the kid’s cock even harder and faster in his fist.

As Mike realised that the man was filling him, he felt his own cock spitting, vomiting its eager goo as hard as the first time, somehow finding the potency to launch four large and powerful globs of adolescent cream two yards in front of him. He groaned, appalled at himself, and the ease with which his body had been forced to give up its spunk.



When Philip was done, he withdrew his cock, and Mike’s arms were finally released. He collapsed to his knees and Steven removed the gag. Philip stood in front of the teenager and grabbed his blonde hair, lifting the punk’s head towards his cock.

“Clean my cock in your mouth, and don’t even think of biting. If you do, today will seem like paradise compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Mike opened his mouth and sucked the cum and shit stains from Philip’s cock, then Philip forced his head to the tiled floor.

“Now lick up all the mess YOU’VE sprayed on the floor, you filthy fucking mutt.”

Mike slowly licked and swallowed the product of five orgasms from the floor, as tears ran freely down his cheeks and the men laughed at his broken spirit, cheering each time his reluctant tongue slurped up another splash of semen.

When he was done, he felt a prick in his bottom. He turned to see Steven withdrawing a syringe, then he fell into unconsciousness.


When he came around, Mike was surrounded by trash. He struggled to rise and realised he was still naked. It was too dark to see if his clothes were nearby. He felt through the trash but could not find any trace. Then he realised he was in a metal box with an open lid. He climbed out and discovered he had been in a large waste bin standing behind the local Wendy’s. It was 3 miles from his home.

He felt pain on his penis. He lifted it. In the street lights, he could see the word “THIEF” was tattooed along its shaft it in heavy black caps. He looked at his glans. A frowning, crying face emoji was tattooed across its entire surface. The word “BABY” was tattooed onto his sack, and by the feel of it Mike surmised, it went through to his nuts as well.

Mike could feel a similar pain at his rear, but he couldn’t turn far enough to see what was causing it.


Carefully avoiding traffic, he made his way home, still feeling Philip’s cum leaking from his asshole and dribbling down the inside of his legs. He was shellshocked; all of his usual confidence and swagger missing.

When he reached his home, Mike climbed into his bedroom window, grateful that it was at the rear of the house. He turned and looked over his shoulder at his bottom in the body-length wall mirror. Just above the crack of his bottom in 3-inch letters were tattooed two words: “FAG’S PLAYGROUND.”

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