It was one of those backwoods parties where you never quite knew who was going to show up or how the hell you were going to get back home when it was all over. It was a sprawling, loose-knit affair, a bunch of people gathered together for the sole purpose of having a rip-roarin' good time someplace where the law wouldn't complain about underage drinking and party-wide drug use.
It was dark and difficult for Carter to find people he knew in the migrating mass. Several bonfires spiked the blackness, turning clustered bodies into indistinct silhouettes. Between the islands of orange light and snapping embers the darkness greyed and faces could be made out. Carter saw his buddy Mitch, but that fellow was paired up with some honey who couldn't possibly make herself more available to him if she had an Open For Business sign stamped on her forehead. Over there was that girl Clara but she was already talking with two people and he'd only met her two weeks ago so didn't feel real comfortable approaching her.
He'd already hit the keg several times since he arrived just after nightfall with a carload of strangers, a lucky hitchhike. His step was growing unsteady, matching his merry mood in direct proportion. That mood lightened further when he passed through a sparse stand of ash trees and caught sight of a woman dancing in the back of one of the parked pickup trucks. She peeled her shirt up to expose bare breasts, the petite type that fit in your hand so very nicely. The guys who were flocked in her immediate vicinity cheered the strip and Carter entertained the idea of going over for a closer view. What he really wanted right now, though, was someone to talk to and share his drunken happiness with.
He kept moving but the sight of the woman getting naked in the firelight had him so preoccupied that he ran right into another person heading in the opposite direction, equally distracted by the show. The other guy was bigger than Carter, head and shoulders, creating the impression for the teen that he'd just ran into a wall. It was only the guy's meaty fist locking on his upper arm that kept Carter from being bowled over backward. Wetness sloshed from the bottle the other guy carried, drizzling down from above.
"Watch where ya--" the bigger guy started in a drunken slur that seeded a ball of dread in the teen's stomach. Jericho. It was too late to run; he was drunk but not that drunk. The thug would have to blind not to see who he'd run into. "Carter?"
Jericho was big: tall, big-boned and every inch was covered in rock solid muscle. Moreover he was mean and wacked in the head as only someone who's eaten three sheets of acid can be. When he was sober his attention was annoying, rude and humiliating as the man loved making the kid squirm. Seemed to thrive on insulting Carter and the reaction it provoked. Carter knew he didn't stand a chance against Jericho in a fight and so did Jericho. It blew, big time. Crossing the man's path while both were drunk was definitely NOT on Carter's list of places he'd like to find himself. But here he was.
"Hey." Carter responded, trying to sound casual. Too many unhappy encounters with the bully had him on edge, though, and his intoxicated state made it impossible to hide his nervousness. He threw in what he hoped looked like an unconcerned smile.
"Hey," the bigger guy replied cheerfully, dropping a large, muscular arm around the teenager's shoulder. Without missing a beat Jericho propelled the Carter forward, toward the deep woods and away from the safety of the campfires and headlights.
The move caught the boy off guard and he staggered, trying without success to duck out of Jericho's iron grip. "W-where are we goin'?" he asked when it sank in that he wasn't going to slip free. If he couldn't escape it seemed a good plan to his fuzzy thinking to know where it was he was heading.
Jericho grinned and tipped back the 40 oz he carried, draining a deep swig from it and following with a belch. "Fer a walk," he answered at last, eyes on the dark trees ahead. "Wanna talk t'ya about some shtuff."
Carter couldn't keep track of how long he'd been walking. The disorienting trek seemed to take an eternity but he didn't even need to piss yet so it couldn't have been all that far from the party grounds. Still, he couldn't hear any music and the woods were kind of spooky. It was dark, a fact that didn't seem to hamper Jericho near as much as it did his unwilling companion, despite the fact that the bruiser probably had more alcohol in his system than any three people at the party.
Carter's shoelace came untied at one point and the chunky thick-soled sneaker started flopping on his foot so badly that he could hardly walk, a pastime that was already tricky enough without the added handicap. Jericho called a stop near a lightning-blasted tree that had fallen in a manner that made it convenient to sit on. Tilted higher at the stump end than that of the flattened branches, the sloped natural bench was a perfect height for both hikers to have a seat on but it was only Carter who took the opportunity to take a load off.
He set about trying to get the shoelaces back in order, something that his tipsy fingers had some trouble with. It didn't help that his blond bangs were obscuring his vision. "So what 'things' you wanna talk about?" he asked once he had two loops formed and was ready to try to bind them together in the rabbit-ears fashion. It was harder in practice to do than it was in theory.
Jericho didn't answer. Carter was preoccupied but he noticed that much, anyway. He looked up, another question already forming on his lips only to die there as he beheld the most bizarre sight: Jericho standing only a couple of paces, right hand on his crotch, squeezing it slow and rhythmically.
Surprise quickly faded, concern and irritation washing in to replace it. Carter started to rise but Jericho's free hand found the boy's shoulder and forced him firmly back down on the broken tree, the impact prompting a wince from the teen as bark bit right through his thin blue phatty pants.
"What th' _f_u_c_k_?" The teen aimed for outrage but those words came out awfully thin, even to his buzzing ears.
The question only made Jericho laugh. It was an ugly, derisive sound. "I know whatcha been doin' with my li'l brother in tha' warehouse. Yer a _c_o_c_k_sucker, Carter," the thug sneered. "A bitsh-ass, spinelesh.. _c_o_c_k_sucker." He squeezed his package crudely and released it, using the same hand to catch hold of the younger guy's jaw. It had the funk of beer and ballsweat. Carter instinctively recoiled, nose wrinkling. Jericho didn't try to stop him.
"Ya wanna be parta the family?" grinned Jericho, eyes alight with malicious mischief. "Ya gotta get jumped in."
No amount of desire could will the unnerved youth sober or lend him sure feet in the dark. Still trying to decipher through the buzz he no longer wanted what the thug had just told him, Carter had little chance to react. In an instant Jericho's brute strength had him up in the air and then down again, not unlike something from a WWE match. Only Carter was no Stone-cold Steve Austin. His middle hit the tree, the impact knocking the wind from him.
Stunned, it was all he could do to try to force his lungs to take in air. Then he felt his loose pants leave him, yanked away to leave his suntanned legs bare to the night breeze. His briefs were next and he realized that he had to force himself to move or something VERY unpleasant would happen. Dizzy, the teen tried to push himself up but a rough forearm in the middle of his back forced him down again, ass up in the air.
"Jesus-_f_u_c_k_in-christ, Jericho!" Carter shrilled, thrashing ineffectively against the weight that bore him down against the rough bark. "What th' hell're you doing!?"
"Givin' ya what you deserve, ya li'l _s_h_i_t_." The growled words held a tone of amusement that only added further insult to the indignity of the moment. For a moment nothing happened save for some rustling from behind. Carter couldn't tell what the hell Jericho was doing but he quickly found out when a broad stripe of fire lit across his exposed backside, accompanied by a loud SMACK!
"OWWWWWW!" Carter hollered, caught completely off guard. What the hell had the man hit him with? Felt like.. a belt. Like that tooled leather one Jericho always wore, the one with the scrollwork belt buckle.
SMACK! The belt fell again, lower this time, rekindling and spreading the burn out even as the first swat was beginning to dwindle. He was being spanked. Spanked. At sixteen he was being belted like a child by an overmuscled drug dealer with an issue with reality.
SMACK! The pain was unbearable. Carter had never been spanked like this. He'd gotten a couple of whacks with the paddle in high school for fighting but that was a routine light tap on the seat of his jeans and he was a free man. This was agony! He had to put an end to this quick.
SMACK!
"Jericho! Stop!"
SMACK!
"Please!!"
SMACK!
"For _f_u_c_k_ing _f_u_c_k_'s sake, STOOOOP!"
The backs of his thighs caught another scorching lash and the boy screamed, voice cracking. "Pleeeeease!" Carter's plea quickly hit a high note as another blow hit home, slightly higher up. Jericho was spreading the pain out for maximum coverage and effect. The tree was digging painfully into Carter's chest but the pain was a pale shadow to the blistering heat searing his poor behind. Again and again the belt fell, always in a different place, always right across in a scalding, broad line.
"STOP! Please, Jericho! Please. Please!"
It was horribly degrading but Carter had used up every other avenue he could see in his disadvantaged state. He couldn't know that those pleas were only encouraging the ex-biker and how the sight of his cherry-red ass was delighting him. The belt rained down harder strokes, faster. In short order the boy was in tears, the pain too much to bear. Not since he was a toddler had he bawled so dramatically. He wished he would just die and end the nightmare.
Jericho laid six more heavy-handed beltings on the rosy, round ass enjoying the sound of the slap of the leather far too much. The thug's arm was strong; he could have kept the punishment up a good while longer but Carter's raspy sobs were just about spent and his exhaustion proved his salvation. With the last lash the belt dropped to the ground.
Carter's wails promptly shifted gears, morphing into relieved, blubbering snivels. Fighting for control over the embarrassing sounds he hiccupped and fought for breath, so humbled and sore that he didn't even think to rise when Jericho's arm left his back. More relief, with the trunk of the tree no longer imprinting his chest. The relief was short-lived, killed by a rough hand on his tender posterior. Carter yelped hoarsely and scrambled to move away.
"Still don't see why Joey likes ya so much," Jericho grunted, the hand darting up to Carter's shoulder. Carter, meet tree again. "Guess're's only one way ta see."
The tree was just as unforgiving as before. And as before, it took backseat to more urgent matters. Like what the hell was happening. It was like a demented, unpredictable amusement park ride crafted by Lucifer himself. Jericho's other hand made itself known when he felt chapped fingers spread thin, wet warmth between his cheeks. A moment later that hand began to shove the thug's fat, hard, spit-lubed _c_o_c_k_ against his most private pucker. A squeal of protest was all he could manage by way of defense; Jericho had him pinned again and he was intent on making his entrance.
Carter's tight hole was anything but cooperative but Jericho was more stubborn than the kid's unwilling body. The meaty _c_o_c_k_ was coming in, like it or not, pushing its way up his unwilling chute. He could feel his skin stretching and tearing to allow the bully's big dick in and could hear the mortifying grunts and pained groans the slow, hard penetration forced from his throat.
"..hurts!" Carter gasped. He shouldn't have.
"I -know- it hurts," Jericho snapped, tone still amused though there was something else in the man's tone: lust. He thrust forward sharply, burying himself up to the hilt in Carter's ass, encouraging another pained cry in response. It was living hell for Carter but for Jericho it was something else. Something quite satisfying in fact, though he'd never tell a soul the truth of that.
It was a primal rutting; Carter was in tears again before it was over, promising to do anything if it would just stop. What Jericho wanted just at that moment, however, was to blow his wad in that snug, hot sheath he was slamming himself into. Which is exactly what Jericho did, pumping his seed deep inside his victim.
It was over so quickly Carter was still reeling long after Jericho had got himself put together. Slowly, painfully the blond boy scraped himself up off the blasted tree and stumbled his way back into his loose-fitting blue pants. He couldn't find his underwear.
"Get on my nerves again and I'll bring ya right back out here."
Carter froze at those all-too-merry words, fingers freezing on the drawstring. Back? Out here? He felt the blood drain from his face and stammered several tearful apologies, not really sure what he was apologizing for. All he really knew is that he never wanted to be out in the woods alone with Jericho again.
Eventually Jericho tired of the verbal groveling and growled the kid away, leaving him to find his own way back to the party with a bad limp and the resolution to avoid the older man like the plague. Unfortuantely for Carter, Jericho had very different plans...