The Freshman

Anonymous

 

 

 

The best night of the year falls on the first Friday after classes begin. For the freshman, it is their first taste of the college partyscene, and for returning students it’s a chance to try and top last year’s escapades.

In either case, from now until the winter break, young and horny dudes of all varieties will stumble back to their dorms late at night, or for those that live off campus, into their cars to sleep until sunrise, at which time they’d wake with the sun to drive home.

Tonight’s catch was a testament to why I hold this time of the year in such high esteem. As I drove our inconspicuous VW hippie van lazily away from the residence hall where we’d found this one, asleep on a sofa in foyer, I inspected the contents of his wallet.

Kyle Holcomb, 19, born in ’86. I tend to think it quite a good year, myself. He was a local kid, from one of the beach towns a little ways south, though I could’ve figured that without his ID. He had that perfect golden brown and delicious tan that only guys who grow up drenched in sun have. Just barely 6 feet, he sported a wavy crop of thick blond hair up top, and light blond whiskers elsewhere on his legs and arms.

It just after midnight when we found him lying on the sofa, a sandal had fallen off his foot that hung over the edge. Judging by the smooth, tan tops of his size 10 feet and slightly tan bottoms, along with the anklets and O’Neal hoodie he wore, I guessed we had a surfer on our hands here; or at the very least a very authentic poser. Before we carried him out to the van (a scene which was by no means rare on a night like this) Jake reached out and stroked his bare sole. We both smiled with glee as his long toes flexed and then his leg unconsciously jerked away. A soft moan escaped his drooling mouth.

I tossed his wallet out the window into a lagoon as we neared our place, a small rental house the two of us shared. It was nothing special, but it did offer us privacy, and a garage, which led into the house.

As we arrived in the house and pulled into the garage, our captive began to stir and squirm in his bonds, his buzz wearing off minute by minute. He was secure though; with handcuffs binding his hands behind his back, and padded ankle cuffs securing his legs to eye hooks which were conveniently screwed into the floor of the van a few feet apart.

His hair fell loosely around his blindfold as he shook his head back and forth. Muffled groans and inquiries came from behind his sock gag. I had to hand it to Jake on sticking with the classic sock gag. There’s something special about knowing that for the rest of the night, he’d be tasting footsweat.

We attached a yard length spreader bar to his ankle cuffs and pulled him out of the van. As soon as he stood upright his struggling increased, though in his inebriated, bound state, he was hardly a more than a nuisance to the two of us.

Jake and I winkned at each other as we each took hold of a nip and twisted simultaniously, which caused Kyle to shout and bend his frame in the middle, as if he would somehow be able to prevent further attacks.

“Just relax, we don’t want to hurt you, we just want to have a little fun with you. If you calm down this will be a lot easier for you…”

We carried him into the house and downstairs into the basement. As his struggling continued, I put a modified dog collar around his neck, designed to truly shock only on the highest setting. I set it to low and pressed the remote, which elicited a whinny from the sweaty teen, as he bounced to his toes, held steadfast by Jake.

“Kyle, what I’ve put on you is a dog’s training collar, and when I press this remote,”

“MPPHFHFH!! Gleth meh gloo pleash,” he squealed as I taped the remote again,

“You get a slight zap to your Adam’s apple. It’s on level 1 right now, but I’m switching it to level three.”

As he felt me move the switch on the box, I could tell he tensed up, no doubt bracing himself for another shock.

Instead, Jake used scissors to cut his shirt and shorts off, but left his boxers, then moved him towards the padded weight bench in the center of the room, and had the youth kneel on it. We’d cut slits in it two feet apart, through which straps secured his claves just below the knee, and then Jake tied a rope through the center of the spreader bar separating the boy’s feet which looped to the frame of the bench below.

“Now Kyle, Jake’s going to unlock your handcuffs. As soon as he does, he’s going to put some padded wrist cuffs on them, similar to what you feel on your ankles. After he fastens those, you are to place your hands behind your head, touching your collar, do you understand?”

“Glehs,” he nodded.

His thigs and calve muscles were cautiously testing the bonds, as he soon realized that our contraption was quite secure, tried and true by many before him.

His nicely tanned stomach slowly moved in & out with his shallow breaths as Jake worked on resecuring his hands.

Finally, once his wrists were attached to his collar, we ran a lead from them to yet another eyehook in the roof, effectively limiting him to being able to twist his torso and flexing his feet. We could also limit that movement, but this guy’s relatively smaller frame didn’t warrant such restriction.

We removed the boy’s gag, and for the first time he was able to speak. “Who the fuck are you guys? Why are you doing this?,” he stuttered.

“You sound thirsty. We’re going to give you some water.,” Jake chuckled.

He gulped the entire bottle down, and before he had a chance to say anything else, we gagged him again with a sock fresh off my foot.

We each got into our positions, me at his torso and pits, and Jake sitting on the floor at his feet. I looked over to Jake and mouthed the countdown

“Three, two, one.”

Much more lively than when I’d zapped him earlier, Kyle began to thrash about, laughing hysterically as the two of us tickled him tortuously.

For my part, I started in his warm and moist pits, with their sensitive hollows responding equally well to my right hand’s fast wiggling digits and my left hand’s deep probing fingers.

After a few minutes of investigation there, I moved on to his ribs, which I deemed to be much more ticklish than his pits, judging by his increased pivoting and screams from behind his gag.

“Gahh! Hahhah! NNO NO-SGAHH HAH GNUHHHH PLEAS HAHH Nuh Mpmph”

Although I could be wrong about the ribs, as it was hard to tell with Jake now using the hairbrush on his soft soles.

“Wow, this dudes got some sensitive soles.pretty good condition!,” Jake exclaimed in a louder than usual voice, given the fact that he was talking over the relentless laughter, grunts, and howls.

We kept up the tickling until sweat dripped off of our captive’s forehead, and his blindfold was soaked, his blond hair matted to it.

His sweaty chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, sagging as much as his restrains allowed. I was a bit warm myself, and I went and turned on a small window fan to bring in some air. The basement always had a lingering scent, partially because it housed our weights that we used for working out, and also because of the many guys we’d have tied up down here, usually one every weekend, and if we were lucky, we were sometimes able to keep the same guy for the weekend. Our favorites were those who we observed to stay on campus over three day weekends, giving us a full three days to torture and use their succulent bodies against them in a ticklish and sexual frenzy.

The campus had about 25,000 students, so large that it was easy to remain inconspicuous, and also, as torturous and grueling the tickling was, few if any guys would report it to anyone, although I’m sure most of them would just be a little more careful about where they crashed, or how drunk they would get. That’s not to say we didn’t have repeat customers, however, especially among the sophomore frat guys.

Jake returned from upstairs with the ice cubes, and just as before, we took our places to start, this time with the cubes in hand, and I at his feet and Jake at his torso.

Jake always started every guy off the same way with the ice cubes, no exceptions. By the time he’d finished mouthing “one” to me, his ice cubes had landed on the boys nipples, then swirled around quickly before gliding up to his pits and then remaining in motion there until they melted sufficiently, at which point Jake would pop them in his mouth and crunch them, savoring the flavor of the week.

I liked to change it up, though. Sometimes I liked to start out on the heel of the foot and work my way up and down those scrambling soles, most of which had ever had any kind of cold on them, except for that rare snowboarder we got every once in a while, but those were few and far between.

I decided tonight I would run the cubes up his calves and then just past where his boxers hung, to tease him.

“AHHgh!! MMPPHH! WHAH! STAHMPP! NOGH!” his surprised yells at first were those of shock, followed by inevitable laughter as his pits were assaulted by the tickling cold. Jake continued to reach into the tray for more ice cubes to run all over the boys ribs, sides, stomach, and into that nice V shaped valley which lead to Kyle’s cock and balls, still veiled by his boxers.

I decided it was time to manipulate this boy into getting hard. Each guy is different; some of them are dripping hard by the time we pull them out of the van, others as soon as we start the tickling.

Kyle, I suspected, would respond to the feather, which Jake hadn’t used on his feet or back in favor of hairbrushes and his itchy fingers.

I picked up two pointy quail feathers and began to drag them up and down the helpless boys feet. By now he was babbling incoherently into his gag. I kept the tickling up, however, and now that Jake was out of ice, his slippery fingers explored the boy’s thrashing abdomen and belly button, frequently reaching up to rub, pinch, and knead the boy’s nickel-sized nipples. This boy must have spent most of his life in the sun-even his nipples had a nice tint to them.

It’d been close to an hour since we first started our routine, and now, his dick was poking through the front of his boxers.

Giving him another break, we cut away his boxers. I kept my finger on the remote incase I needed to give him a maintenance buzz, but this boy was so ticklish that the work over had reverted him to a piece of meat, a sweaty sagging mess dripping onto the concrete floor of the basement.

Despite his hard cock, sticking straight out, he began his muffled pleas to be released as he heard Jake come down the stairs after taking the ice cube tray back up to the kitchen and returning with a thin dildo and lube. I suspect Kyle would’ve plead a bit more emphatically, were he able to see the toys Jake had brought down for the next phase of the evening.

Ignoring his muffled squawks, we again set down to our positions. Jake was the expert at infiltrating the anal compound, and I didn’t mind dancing the feather around a sensitive pair of cock and balls, either.

This boy was at least hip to the times, it was clear that he’d kept his pubic hair trimmed, though it wasn’t as important, given that he had sparse blond tufts, not curlier thickets like some of the red heads we’d worked over in the past.

He giggled and moaned as I danced the feather around his sensitive tip, now dribbling precum in a steady stream onto the floor below. I got true bellows when I ran the feather over the length of his shaft, which I guessed to be at about six and a half inches, maybe seven at the most.

Suddenly his head shook violently from side to side and his torso began to thrash about furiously, with a force that reminded me of when we very first started this whole endeavor.

I continued dragging the feather carelessly over his groin, sometimes reaching into his thighs and gooch, which seemed to get a great reaction of him. Of all the guys we’d worked over, not one of them had a gooch that didn’t’ respond to the feather. Some had feet which weren’t particularly ticklish, others had stomachs which could stand scrabbling fingers. But the gooch got em’ every time.

“Dude, I think I’m gonna need that buzzer from you, he’s not being very cooperative.”, Jake mused as he playfully tugged on the collar from behind.

“ARHGHHHH!!!!AHH!!! AHHHHHMMM!!!! NNugh! Noh noh! MMk mmk,” Kyle’s screaming was immediately followed with muffled words of defeat.

In reality, the shock actually causes the hole to constrict, which isn’t the goal, but we had to use it at least once on most guys, if not twice. Kyle here was reluctantly forced to submit to the program.

Jake didn’t want to ruin the pleasure he would inevitably feel with a rough entry, so he lubed the area well and went at it with his index finger, teasing him before slowly pushing against his portal.

He leaned over to me and mouthed “Tickle his ribs.” I obliged, naturally, and as my sweaty hands slid all around his chest, causing him to twist and shout, Jake successfully slipped his finger inside Kyle’s ass, and began his gentle exploration. I quickly got back to using the feather on his package, and it wasn’t long before his dick strained and quivered, accompanied with a low moan from behind the gag.Jake was firmly massaging the boy’s prostate, effectively initiating him into the world of anal pleasure.

I often wondered how these guys’ sexual lives changed after their abductions.

Discretely, Jake slid his finger out and replaced it with the dildo, which he then turned on to medium, and, using a strip of tape, secured it in place. The shape of the teen’s well defined ass naturally allowed the some slack in the tape so Jake could push the dildo in and out an inch or two, but it was impossible for Kyle to get it out of his ass, and off of his joy button, not that he’d want to by now.

“Do you want to cum?,” I asked.

“Hmmhmm Yhesh Plwess,” He groaned loudly as Jake took one of the feathers I set down and twirled it on the gooch. The poor boy was in a sexual heaven and hell simultaneously.

“Too bad, I think it’s time for more tickling.”

His protests were cut off by his uncontrollable, heaving laughter, as we worked him over just as intensely as before, if not more so. Jake broke out the electric tooth brushes and dremmel detail sander used for especially hard to reach ticklish spots on those tender feet. His flip flops, which had no doubt protected his feet from the rough sands and pebbles of the beaches, now lay ironically beneath his feet as they scrabbled to escape the torture.

I tickled his ribs again, taking time to dig firmly into each set as he gasped and struggled to breathe. We kept the tickling up until his struggling faded to occasional jerks and grunts, his voice hoarse by now.

The night was getting late, however. As Jake continued to work over his feet, evoking a never ending stream of gasps, laughs, and grunts from our exhausted captive, I began to get some moans from behind that gag, as I stroked his shaft, slowly.

It took only a few strokes before he drew his stomach in, and splayed his toes. With a scream, his dick shot stream after stream of piping hot jizz, which I collected in a small bowl. Throughout his powerful orgasm, Jake jammed the vibrating didlo hard against his prostate and tickled his arches.

I patted him on the back and ruffled his wet hair.

“Not bad, man! Not bad at all. Just gotta let Jake get a few more out of you, then you’ll be all done for the night.”

“Whght?! Nghh! MmMmmhM! HAhahamm Mhahhhaha Gohhd Nho Mhahahahahah Pleamhshe”

As I walked upstairs to leave Jake and Kyle with some quality time together, I saw that Jake turned the vibrator to high, and switched the dremmel on. I knew by the sounds of it that he was exploiting Kyle’s extra sensitive perineum, while most likely running his fingertips over the boy’s dick head, still terribly sensitive from his recent orgasm. Before I left the basement, I saw that Jake was also holding a capsule of rush under his nose, before picking up the electric toothbrush and immediately applying it while the drug was in full effect.

About 45 minutes later I came back down to the basement. Kyle was screaming hoarsely into his gag as cum was gushing out of his cock into the small bowl, now filled with quite a good amount of cream. In one hand, Jake held the bowl to catch his cum, and in the other I noticed he had the remote and was zapping away at the poor boy, all throughout his orgasm.

“Third time’s the charm, eh?,” he said, as he saw me come down the stairs. Jake can be quite cruel to the guys sometimes, if left alone. Usually I don’t leave him with them for more than thirty minutes at a time, but I had to get a snack ready for our guest. All this tickling and milking can work up an appetite.

I took the biscuit, split and buttered it, and then spooned his lukewarm boy cream onto each half. While Jake was taking the dildo out and removing his gag, I also popped open a soda and poured it into a glass with ice, to which I added a few shots of crown, to make sure Kyle had a jaded memory of this night after we dropped him off.

Didn’t find any pot on this one, so I can’t tell if he’ll appreciate the biscuits. Along with being topped with his seed, I made them with canna butter, and also buttered them with more of it. We gave each of our guests this late night snack before we untied them.

“Please. Guys no more. Please,” he rasped, exhausted.

“Nah, I just thought you’d want to have a soda and a biscuit. Whipped cream and butter OK with you?”

He groaned, but as Jake moved the switch back to three (I guess he did have some heart, he must have moved it down to the second level after shocking the hapless, cumming boy during his second orgasm at full power) he quickly gulped down the biscuit halves and washed it down with the soda.

We untied him and dressed him in a university athletic T shirt and some plain running shorts, but kept his sandals. The campus has some nice grassy knolls, and I’m sure his sensitive feet will enjoy the tickling blades of grass along his walk as he tries to find his way. The great thing about the biscuits is that by the time he wakes up, probably around 7 or so, they’ll still have him retarded high.

We loaded him into the van and headed back to campus. On the way back, Jake does the driving so I can coax out one more load from the boy in the back, bound spread eagle. Sometimes we’ll go on a whim and take a drive on the highway for an hour or two, the passing cars on the freeway having no idea that inside this van, a boy is being brought again to orgasm, having his feet tickled, or nipples twisted. Sometimes all three. This week is Kyle’s first weekend at college though, so we drop him off in a nicely wooded area about half a mile from his dorm.

Did i mention that this night is my favorite night of the year?