The Vacation House Ch. 22

Finding myself in the passenger seat of my pick-up truck, shaved smooth as a new born behind is mind blowing. How the heck do I keep getting myself into these bizarre situations? I don't think I even recognize myself today as the same kid that moved up to the family vacation house just months ago.

Since I'm in this situation, I might as well go with it, not that there is really much of a choice at the moment. Tag's watching the road, the intensity in his face scares the living crap out of me. His constant humming sets my nerves on their very end. The windows are rolled down, wind blows briskly across my freshly shaven skin. Tingles and goose bumps cover me from head to toe.

Looking down at my shorts, the bulge pushing up from under the fabric of my jeans tells a completely different story than what my imagination presents. I can't stop coming back to the fear that my dad is going to blow a gasket when he walks in and sees me tied up, naked as the day I was born. What is he going to do, think, how the hell is he going to react. This could go as bad as it gets, there is just no way of getting past that fact. Why is it that from the waste down, my perved out parts seem not to give a damn what they may be in for?

The hum and vibration of rubber on pavement sends tingles up my butt. A little bit of an itch is developing up inside my hole. Damn it, with my hands tied up behind my back, no matter how much I wiggle and squirm, I simply can not reach that annoying itch!

"Hey, stop it will you? You're distracting me and it's hard enough to keep my mind on the road let alone figuring out how I am gonna make your dad go along with this little drama we've cooked up."

Tag must be out of his mind, what the hell does he mean, WE? This was his idea, I was simply the dumb ass that went along with his idiotic fetish role play thing. Really, I'm starting to think that I don't have the common sense of a wooden post.

The wheels of my truck hit the gravel driveway as we head toward the far end garage door. Silver comes to a bit of a skidding stop, gravel is thrown against the white aluminum door. Tag bangs the shift into gear and the quick clicking of the emergency break being applied signal that it's time to get real. I hear the buzz of the electric door opener even though I did not even see him press the button over the drivers visor.

Tag reaches out, extends his right arm across my naked torso, his lightly fur covered forearm brushes the taught muscled abs just above my belly button. His fingers fumble with the seat belt, searching blindly for the release button.

"Click."

The belt which had just held me firmly in place, retracts with a whipping sound. The metal buckle hits the plastic trim just behind the passenger door. "Click." Tags seat belt pulls back away from him just as quickly as my own had, he leans across my lap, pulls the handle, the door next to me pushes open, noise is released from my best friends mouth. It must have taken some doing to make his muscular bulk so nimble as to be able to get beyond me to simply open up the door.

It takes just seconds while I wait patiently. What the heck else could I do? My hands still tied behind me, my ankles tied together, it's not like I'm going to be able to make a clean break for it. Tag's at the open door of the pick up now, he reaches in, one arm slides behind my back, the other wraps itself under the back of my huge thighs. He leans in, takes a huge breath in, holds the gulp of air into his lungs. With all the strength he can muster, I find myself being heaved chest first over Tag's shoulder, denim clad ass pointing straight up into the air. I'm lifted up and out of the safety of the passenger side of my pick-up. We move upward and to the side, I can tell that Tag is attempting to position my weight in a way that he can balance both us.

Shocking to me, he lifts one foot up, kicks the passenger door, it swings closed. I am again shifted to a more secure position over his shoulder, he heaves me up an inch or so over his shoulder to assist this required realignment of weight transfer. I am being carried toward the open garage bay, it is dark inside, even with the unadorned windows that line the back and far side of the garage. Tag takes his time to measure his steps as we approach the few wooden stairs that lead into the kitchen entrance. The arm that had secured my back is removed, I feel my body become unstable, I use every muscle in my torso to keep from sliding off and hitting the floor.

The screen door is opened with the familiar springs stretching noise. Tag places his free arm out to prop the door open, his hand placed firmly inside the jam. Carefully he maneuvers both of us up those few stairs and into the kitchen. The door is allowed to behind us, the pneumatic hiss of the spring announces our arrival.

Tag wastes no time in heading straight to my bed room, the door is thankfully open, allowing him to simply toss me full force onto my back, the thickness of my mattress adsorbing the brunt force of my mass going with gravity pull.

"Holy shit man! You've got to go on one hell of a diet if we are ever going to do that again!"

"What the heck are you talking about, AGAIN? You've got a screw loose boy if you think I'm gonna let you drag me around like this ever again."

"You bet your ass you will, if I say you will. From now on, I'm your master and you, well you're simply my slave boy. My will is your command, got it?"

"Listen Tag, I don't know if this is really such a good,,,"

What the? The force of a pair of dirty underwear being shoved in my mouth takes me completely by surprise. The stripping of duct tape from the roll and how quickly it is wrapped around my head, covering my mouth, securing the filthy pair of shorts into my stuffed mouth shocks me.

"There, now you will get the idea. Slaves are to be seen and used, not heard, well that is unless I want you to be heard that is."

Tag's devilish laughter scares me just a little more than I had expected but it also sends electric impulses to my already aroused penis. My balls pull up, nearly out of their distended sack, I can feel them slam against the back side of my prostate. HELL YEAH! What a rush! That damned itch in my ass comes back again. A whimper escapes my throat, my eyes open wide, a tiny tear burns it's way to the corner of my eye lid. Tag looks at me, stares at me, cocks his head to one side, I know he is trying to figure out what I was attempting to communicate to him.

The tape is pulled violently from across my mouth, the bulk left sticking to my shaven skin. Burning, ripping pain screams it's way from my face to my brain. The filthy underwear are roughly yanked out of my mouth.

"What? What is the matter? We have not even started yet? Why the tears?"

How the heck am I supposed to tell him what is really getting to me right now? I'm so embarrassed, heat rises to my face, ears, buzzing and ringing in my ears. My blood pressure must be rising as I lay here prone to my best friends scrutiny.

"I'm sorry, really, I have this horrible itch, I can't get to it, my hands are tied up and I just can't reach it."

The robust laughter thunders out of my tormenting friend. He places his hands upon his hips, presents himself as large as he can. Shoulders broadened, his chest thrust forward, his haunches press his massive back side away from the direction in which he is leaning.

"An itch, where is this so important itch that you are brought to tears, Ranger?"

Holy crap, I've got to verbalize this, I feel totally mortified, so small, so, so, devastated.

"It's, well, up my butt, I have this horrible itch just inside my ass. PLEASE, help me?"

"Ha,ha,ha, you poor little thing you. Well, we'll take care of that itch but not right now. As a matter of fact, I doubt you are going to give that little itch much more thought in a little while. Now, open wide, I've heard enough from you for a while."

That damned filthy pair of underwear are balled up and shoved back in my mouth. The duct tape is reapplied. Tag pats the top of my head. The bristles of my short cropped hair obviously brings pleasure to his palm as he gently slides his open hand over the very tips of the crew cut.

"That's a good boy. Now you stay here, I have a few things to get out of the truck before your dad gets home."

I watch as Tag turns on his heal, heads out of my open bedroom door only to turn back and give me the OK hand sign, then turns again. His jutting butt the last thing I see before I hear the screen door slam. Silence is deafening, my heart beats violently in my chest, the constant thump, thump, thump, thump. Finding the ceiling to be my only focus outside of my own internal noises, I fixated on a small spider web that moves slowly in the unseen flow of air near the ceiling of my room.

Time has passed very slowly, the screen door slams, I pick my head up as much as I can, finds it to be very uncomfortable, downright painful. Moving my body sideways on the quilt covered mattress makes for a much easier viewing of the comings and goings of my best friend. He hurries with determination back and forth, he has an agenda, one which I'm simply not privy to.

Tag's back and forth passages finally come to a halt. He stands in the doorway of my bedroom, arms out stretched, legs spread wide in a jumping jack position. His hands are firmly placed inside the door jam, his breathing comes heavy and labored. I notice a piece of paper is in his right hand, pressed between his palm and the painted wood trim upon which he leans.

"Harrumph!"

The only sound I can get to catch his attention. Tag's sight line drops down as he fixes his gaze upon my own.

"Oh, this?" Directions, a little guidance for your dad when he shows up. I don't want to leave too much to chance, this way he will have clear cut directions as what to do and how to do it."

HOLY SHIT! Is he kidding? Tag's lost his god damned mind! Does he really think that he's gonna come into my dad's house, tell him what to do, especially after finding me the way he's gonna find me? SHIT, the way he's gonna find me. I'm dead, that's it, I'm dead, we're both dead.

The sun filters through the large bedroom window, shadows cast from the mighty pines out front of the house begin to creep in and up the far wall of my room. Dad's arrival time has come and gone by a half an hour now. It's not like him to be late, even though he and Lee are coming back from vacation, he had called earlier and left a message on the machine that they were getting things back in order at the construction site, that Lee was staying the night in the trailer but to expect him at his normal arrival time. I shift my eyes as far to the left that I possibly can. My alarm shows that it is 6:46, way past his normal time getting home. His shower is usually done by this time and he in his chair in the living room, watching the local nightly news.

Rumbling and the sound of gravel being sprayed every which way by the tires of dad's pick-up snaps me out of my self imposed worry. Fear really begins to settle in, my stomach tightens. Tag comes rushing into my room, I feel his hands on both sides of my shoulders, he pulls me off the edge of the bed, grabs one of my pillows and places it on the floor along side my prone position.

"Listen, not a sound out of you, nothing, no matter what you hear me or your dad say. You just stay quiet as a church mouse, OK? OK?."

I nod my head. Tag grabs hold of my legs and pulls me over so that my shoulders are on the pillow, my back is pushed back against the side of my bed frame and mattress. He removes the duct tape from around my ankles and quickly grabs at the waste of my jeans, pulls them off me, nearly ripping the flesh from my muscular thighs while doing this. He takes the duct tape and once again wraps it around my ankles. As Tag lets my feet go, the weight of my extended legs naturally forces my feet toward the bedroom doorway. I bend my knees to keep myself from tumbling over. The ripping sound of duct tape again then it is being wrapped from behind my knees and around the mid section of my back forcing my knees back into my ribs, my toes barely touch the floor in front of my face. I look up at the ceiling, the pain of my contorted position overwhelms the noises that escape my gut. I had completely forgotten about that freaking itch, that is until now.

Tag quickly stands, walks to the chair in the corner of my room. I can no longer see him since he is obscured by the foot board of my bed. I'm here on the floor, supported only by the back of my neck and shoulders, my naked ass pointing directly up into the air. Shaved, smooth and totally vulnerable, there for the taking or what ever Tag has in his twisted mind.

The sound of pages turning peak my interest. I try with all my might to quiet all sounds that I am making, I want to know what the hell Tag is doing. Since I can't see him, at least I might be able to hear what he is doing, figure out what he has in store for me, what I have gotten myself, and my dad into. I know I am going to regret this whole thing, I just know it and I wish I were anywhere but here right now.

"Robbie? Hey ROBBIE? Where are you kiddo? Give your old man some love, I've missed you something terrible. Robbie?"

Dad's footsteps are so familiar to me that I would recognize their sound during a stampede. They shuffle around in the kitchen, tearing of paper, he's obviously going through the pile of mail that had amassed on the counter. Water pours from the kitchen spigot, the clink of the water glass that is always next to the sink. Nothing out of the normal. The snap and unzipping of his pants, the loud thunk as he kicks one, then the second shoe off, they hit the trim next to the basement door. My hearing zones in on the sound of the rough fabric of dad's work pants as he slides them down his bulky, fur covered legs, hears them tossed on top of the shoes. I've seen this hundreds of times, his pattern of disrobing upon arriving home is just part of his normal routine.

"Robbie, well, if you're not here, then I'm talking to myself, that's not a good thing."

My eyes move their fixation from the spot of the ceiling to look upside down at the hallway beyond my open bedroom door. The shadow precedes dad's passage by my room on his way to the bathroom. I hear his footsteps suddenly stop, see's his fingers wrap around the frame of my doorway, the darkness of his tanned skin and black hair on his fingers stand out pronounced against the white gloss painted trim.

He moves forcefully into the entrance way, his form engulfing the space between the door frame sides. His bulk appears much larger than I had remembered it ever looking. I feel the room go cold, cold as being naked in the ice rink.

"What the fuck is this?"

I see the surprise, then the shock turn to anger as my dad hulks over my upturned nakedness. His head snaps to the side as he suddenly realizes that we are not alone, that Tag is sitting, silently in beyond my line of site.

There is not a sound from my friend, none other than the turning pages. What the hell is he reading or looking at that he seems not even aware that my dad is about to explode and I am sure at this moment that he is going to take both of us with him.

"TAG! What the hell is going on here? Didn't you hear me the first time? I'm not going to ask again. You two have some explaining to do and I'll give you 5 seconds to make sense or things here are going to get ugly quick!"

The scraping of the feet on the chair as it is slid along the wooden floor signals that Tag has decided to respond. How or what, I have no idea, it sure better be good cause this is not exactly where I want to be when things go down.

Tag walks from behind the corner post of my bed, I watch him as he slowly, walks toward my dad. His hand is outstretched, that envelope I noticed earlier extended toward my old man. Looking at Tag's face scares me more than anything I had ever seen in the worst horror movie. He is completely expressionless. No smile, no fear, no worry, stone faced. I look back toward my dad, even in my bizarre position, watching upside down, I can figure out that he is furious but takes the envelope from the outstretched hand any way. He quickly tears the envelope open, yanks the piece of paper it contains, unfolds it, proceeds to read it. His eyes dart left, right, left right.

Tag turns his back to my dad, ignoring the thoughts that I am trying to send him via my mind. I pray that he hears the plea that scream out inside my head. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, get me out of here! GET US BOTH OUT OF HERE!

Crumpling paper catches my attention, my in head prayers burst like a balloon, gone. My attention turns back to my dad, he stands over me, moves just the smallest amount toward me. His head turns, stares in the direction Tag must be in, he must have returned to the chair as I hear the feet scrape against the floor again. It's bizarre that what goes through my mind at this moment is that dad is gonna go nuts when he see's scrapes on his new wood floors from the chair.

I'm snapped out of my minds wanderings as I feel the warmth of dad's ham sized ham being placed on the freshly shaved skin of my upturned ass cheeks. Shivers run up and down my spine, blood rushes to to my prick as well as my head. Dizziness overcomes me, I feel as if I am going to pass out, then pain! The searing pain of dad's calloused hand as it is lifted and then comes crashing down on my soft flesh without mercy.

"SMACK!"

It echoes in my head, the pain sent to every extremity of my being. I flex my feet upward, my toes point at the ceiling just as the second and more violent blow strikes. Finding myself under a full assault dad grabs hold of my feet, pushes them downward, my ass stretches wide, the crack opens, exposes my puckered and now totally hairless ass hole.

"LIKE THIS? Is this what you two want? Might have just bitten off a little more than you guys can chew, let me assure you of that."

Dad's voice shakes me to the core. He's talking to Tag as if there is some sort of understanding, some sort of meeting of the minds. What had dad read in that letter, what could he possibly have said to have kept us both from being beaten to a pulp and thrown out on our assess like road kill?

"POP."

The coolness and slick feeling of the huge paw being rubbed back and forth across the crevice of my ass brings my entire attention to the most vulnerable part of my body. The noise that I heard must have been that very same can of Crisco that has been put to use by dad and myself in the past. The fat slick fingers play around my puckered hole. It starts out very gentle, very seducing, then it increases, both in pressure and forcefulness. The sudden splitting of my ass hole, the ripping, tearing sensation of invasion of my inner softness. That damned itch, its there, right at the very tip, no, it's not at the tip, it's right there, yes, yes, YES, right there. My mind screams, guttural sounds escape my throat as another finger is jammed deep inside my upturned ass. The feeling of dad curling his finger deep inside my ass drives me out of my freaking mind. He grabs hold of my prostate, he flicks it with the tips of his fingers, moves them back and forth, then withdraws completely only to be slammed back in with all the force of bricks falling from the sky.

"Like this? You little bitch, this is what you want? Well, you are going to get what you guys asked for and then some, trust me, you're not going to forget this screwing, either of you, as long as you live."