Hard core stories for the hard core. These stories are all fantasies and should not be taken as portraying either the actions or the inclinations of those individuals appearing in the accompanying photos or gifs. All photos and gifs are reblogs. If you want a post or photo of or about you deleted, please let me know and I will delete it.
Owen had been part of an anthropological research group studying a primitive tribe in New Guinea whose physical remoteness had thus far prevented any significant interaction with the outside world. Fifteen years earlier, a lone anthropologist had stumbled onto the tribe and lived with them for a number of months. But other than that single contact, the tribe had experienced no dealings with the outside world until Owen’s group arrived.
Everything had seemed copacetic at first but, earlier today, things had gone dramatically awry. For reasons that Owen couldn’t even begin to comprehend, the warriors of the tribe had attacked and looted the study group’s encampment, murdering almost everyone there without mercy. Only Owen and Peter Smarski, another graduate student, who was from Chicago, were left alive. Smarski had intrigued the villagers from their arrival because of his long blond hair and Owen thought that that might be the reason he’d been spared from the general slaughter. Owen, though, had no clue as to why he had similarly been left alive, but, in the last half hour, the reason for that had become all too obvious.
When they’d began their studies, the anthropologists had been surprised to discover that while the warriors each had their own mate of the opposite sex, they also made frequent use of a number of young men as sexual objects. Dr. Grammar, the head of their study group, had referred to these young men – who were always kept completely naked, an indication of their low status – as ‘village boi-wives,’ since it was obvious that any man in the village could use them sexually whenever he wanted. Which the warriors did, almost invariably in a particularly brutal manner.
Just how brutal the use was, Owen was in the process of discovering for himself. Owen had watched in horror as Peter had been unceremoniously stripped naked and then forced down onto the ground where one of the village warriors had begun violently raping the blond graduate student as the blond squealed and shrieked in obvious agony. And, no sooner had the first assailant yanked his spent cock from Peter’s ass than another warrior mounted the boy and proceeded to fuck him just as rapaciously. But it was not until he, too, spewed a load of Man-scuzz inside the blond and pulled his fuck-stick out of Peter’s battered bung-hole only to have it immediately replaced by yet another rampant cock, that the warriors turned their attention to Owen, who had been tied up on the ground as he watched his fellow student being gang-raped.
There was a brief discussion among the warrior awaiting their turn with Peter’s ass which occasioned a number of glances in Owen’s direction. Soon, three of the warriors, obviously younger than most and therefore of lower status, dislodged themselves and strode over to where Owen was lying.
One reached down, pulled Owen’s shirt over his head and then pulled down his pants. Mere seconds later, Owen’s screams of agony were joining Peter’s as he, too, was sexually violated with incredible force. And when the first warrior finished shooting his load of steamy Man-juice into Owen’s no-longer-virgin asshole, his cock was immediately replaced by another. And then another. And another.
The sexual assaults on the two grad students continued until the wee hours of the morning, until every warrior in the village had had his fill of each of the boys. And then naked, barely able to walk, their ruined assholes spewing spent ball-slime down their legs, Owen and Peter were herded into the enclosed quarter where the ‘village boi-wives’ were housed when not in use. And it was now crystal clear to Owen why they had been spared from the slaughter.
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All that happened two years ago, and since that time, Owen and Peter have lived as ‘boi-wives’ in the village – always naked, subject to violent sexual use multiple times every day. And when they aren’t being sexually abused, they’re treated as human animals, yoked to the rudimentary carts that the anthropologists had brought with them, given the dirtiest, most disgusting tasks to perform, frequently beaten for no reason other than their captors’ amusement. The lowest of the low.
At first, Owen and Peter fought against their degradation, against the daily assaults to which they were subjected. But, with the passage of time, their will to resist, even to object, slowly faded and for over a year now they’ve reconciled themselves to their new life as village boi-wives. Then, out of the blue, the possibility of rescue has presented itself. Another anthropological research group has appeared in the village.
Owen had been out working the fields, hitched to the rudimentary plow the villagers used for cultivation, when a group of village men came out and ordered him to come with them. While two years had not been enough time to learn all the nuances of the dialect the natives spoke, it had been sufficient time for both Owen and Peter to learn enough to understand the various commands which they were given. Having learned the hard way that boi-wives were not permitted to question the men of the village, Owen didn’t ask why they wanted him; he simply went along with them as directed. They took him to the enclosure that had been his home for the last two years. Peter was already inside and, though he tried to mask it, Owen could tell that he was excited.
Owen waited until the men had left before turning to Peter and asking him what was going on. Peter could scarcely contain his excitement. “I was getting ‘barracked’ by Hatchet Face,” he began, employing the village term for ‘fucking’ and using one of the names the two boys had developed to describe each of their abusers, “and he was barracking the shit out of me, as usual. Then, all of a sudden there was a huge commotion at the edge of the village, and I was just able to see that a group of Westerners had entered the village. Next thing I knew, Hatchet Face was dragging my ass here. But I think…I think we’re about to be rescued.”
“You’re kidding,” Owen exclaimed, his excitement matching his fellow boi-wife, “Oh my God…Oh my God. I thought they’d forgotten about us. I thought they’d given us up for dead.”
“Apparently not,” Peter enthused, a smile lighting up his face for the first time in years. “They’ve come for us. They’ve finally come for us.”
“I can’t believe it,” Owen said, though his own euphoric demeanor belied his declaration. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, bro,” Peter laughed. “Believe it.”
However, as time passed and no one came for them, both boys’ belief in the imminence of rescue began to wane. But when, two hours after the sun set, a group of warriors finally came into their enclosure and told them to come with them, hope flared anew. And it seemed as if rescue was at hand when they were escorted into an encampment outside the village, an encampment not much different from the one they had lived in when they first arrived in the village two years earlier. They were ushered into a large tent where, to their joy, they confronted fellow Westerners for the first time in years. And, to his complete shock, Owen recognized one of them.
There, standing in the back of the half-dozen newcomers was Bryan MacMillan, his deep auburn hair and sparkling blue-eyes making him stand out even in the dim light and clearly marking him as the Irish national that he was. He and Owen had been fellow graduate students back at State and, though they’d been pretty fierce rivals back in college, Owen was still gratified to see him standing there. And it was obvious that Bryan recognized him, too, as a grim smile crossed the red-head’s face, a smile that Owen found strangely disconcerting.
There was an awkward moment when Owen and Peter finally stood in front of the newcomers, their surprise obvious on all their faces, both Owen and Peter suddenly embarrassed by their nakedness, something they’d come to take for granted over the past two years. But then an older man, obviously in charge, stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Eustace,” he said, “and you are…?”
“Owen Lee,” Owen quickly answered, and then added “and this is Peter Smarski,” gesturing to the naked boy standing next to him. While he didn’t say anything, he recognized Dr. Eustace as the anthropologist who had first made contact with the tribe years earlier.
“I assume you were part of Dr. Grammar’s group,” Dr. Eustace opined.
“Yes, sir. We were,” Owen agreed.
“Whatever happened to his group?” the man asked. “There hasn’t been any contact from them in the past two years.”
Owen purposefully kept his voice even and flat as he replied. He knew that the tribesmen were listening to him and, while they wouldn’t be able to understand what he said, any apparent agitation on his part might set them off, and Owen knew all too well what they were truly capable of. “They were killed, sir,” he responded. “By the natives here.”
The shock on his listeners faces was manifest and Owen noticed a perceptible tensing in the natives who’d accompanied him and Peter. Fortunately, Dr. Eustace picked up on this, too, and managed to keep his own voice calm as he inquired as to exactly what had happened.
What followed was an extended description of not only the slaughter that had killed all of Dr. Grammar’s group except for Owen and Peter, but also an explanation as to why the two of them had been spared and what their lives had been like since then as village boi-wives, though the two boys left out some of the more degrading experiences they’d been forced to endure during their captivity. “That’s pretty much it,” Owen said, concluding his story.
Dr. Eustace looked at the boy and then at the members of his party. Finally, he spoke up. “Excuse us, boys,” he said, “but we need to discuss everything among ourselves.” And then, as Owen and Peter simply stood there, the members of Dr. Eustace’s party went off to a far corner of the tent where an animated discussion ensued that lasted close to fifteen minutes.
When they returned, Owen couldn’t help but notice that most of them wouldn’t look at either Owen or Peter. And when Dr. Eustace started talking by again referring to the two of them as ‘boys,’ an alarm went off in Owen’s head. He and Peter were both 23 years old and this constant reference to them as ‘boys’ was not only demeaning, it also had disturbing echoes of their use by the village men as ‘boi-wives.’ But even his sudden trepidation, didn’t really prepare Owen for what he was about to hear.
”Boys,” Dr. Eustace began, “we’re all in a rather difficult situation here. From what you’ve told us, the natives here are quite capable of acts of extreme violence. Unfortunately, we’re all unarmed. It was considered unwise to introduce Western weaponry to such primitive peoples, so we purposefully eschewed bringing any weapons with us. But that leaves us totally vulnerable and, from what you’ve told us, the natives won’t hesitate to take drastic action if we anger them.”
“Now,” the man continued, “it’s obvious that they consider the two of you their property – their boi-wives. In fact, they brought you here as a sign of good-will. And…and they expect us to make use of you the way they do. They expect us…well, they expect us to fuck you.”
“You’re not going to do that, sir, are you?” Peter interrupted. “You’re not going to fuck us?”
Dr. Eustace looked embarrassed as he said, “I don’t see how we have any other option. From what you told us, I really don’t see that we have any other option. It’s not something we want to do; it’s something we have to do. Maybe…Maybe over time we can convince the natives to let you go, but, right now, we have to fuck you.”
Dr. Eustace turned to the two youngest members of his party, “Okay, Raf and Bryan, you might as well start.” And, as Owen and Peter stood there in total shock, the two men stepped forward and began disrobing. Once they were naked, Raf walked up to Peter and ordered the blond to get on his knees. Tears streaming down his face, Peter did as he was told and, a moment later he was gagging on the raven-haired boy’s big meat.
At the same time, Bryan walked up to Owen. “You obviously know the drill, Owen,” he said in a voice thick with an Irish brogue, “On your knees and get my cock nice and wet. It’s gonna be going up your fuck-hole, boy, so you’ll want to get it as wet as you can.”
Owen, knowing he had no choice, did as he was told, and seconds later he was gobbling down on Bryan’s hard fuck-stick. Owen didn’t have that much trouble swallowing the red-head’s throbbing boner, but then again Owen had sucked cock literally thousands of times in the last two years. But he was somewhat taken aback when Bryan grabbed the back of his head and began skull-fucking him with real force. Fuck, these guys were supposedly fucking him and Peter because they had no choice, but the way Bryan was going after him sure wasn’t showing any reluctance on his part. Bryan was pummeling Owen’s mouth-pussy exactly like the natives used Owen’s mouth – with obvious lust and a total disregard for Owen’s feelings.
And minutes later, after Bryan extracted his slicked-up boner from Owen’s throat and ordered him to get down on all fours, Bryan began fucking him with all the ferocity Owen had come to expect from his native users. In no time at all, Owen was squealing and shrieking in pain, and he could hear Peter doing the same. Dr. Eustace had said that fucking the two of them wasn’t something his group wanted to do but, from the way Bryan was going after his pussy, Owen couldn’t help but feel that, whether he wanted to fuck him or not, Bryan was certainly enjoying doing it. And the grunts of pleasure constantly being emitted from the red-head’s throat as he began deep-dicking Owen provided vivid evidence of just how much enjoyment Bryan was extracting from Owen’s aching fuck-hole.
Raf finished fucking Peter after about ten minutes, his loud cries and frantic thrusts a clear testament to the massive orgasm he was experiencing, even as Bryan just continued to plow away at Owen’s boypussy, seeming intent on drawing the assault out as long as possible. But any relief that Peter felt as Raf’s spent dick was rudely yanked from his well-used boycunt was momentary as it was almost immediately replaced by another newcomer’s cock.
Owen’s attention was quickly returned to his own situation when Bryan began slapping his ass with real force. “Squeeze that pussy, bitch,” the red-head ordered brusquely. “Squeeze that faggot cunt around my pussybuster.” Hearing that gruff demand, Owen realized that he could expect no show of sympathy from his former classmate, it being all too obvious that the animosity that had marked their former relationship hadn’t ebbed in the slightest even though years had passed. So he just did what Bryan demanded, he squeezed his pussy muscles tight around Bryan’s ravaging cock, increasing both the red-head’s pleasure and his own agonizing pain.
Eventually, with a series of violent, piston-like thrusts up Owen’s abraded fuck-chute, Bryan shot his own load of cum deep inside Owen’s guts. The red-head was resting his spent cock in the sodden moisture of Owen’s freshly riven hole when he leaned forward and whispered, “I always knew you were a faggot, Owen. I’m gonna enjoy the hell outta fucking you while we’re here. You’ve got quite the pussy between those butt-cheeks, bitch. Too bad I didn’t know that in college – I would have trained you up right back then.” Then, with a snort, he roughly pulled his cock from Owen’s asshole, where it was almost immediately replaced by Dr. Eustace’s hard fuck-tool. And when Dr. Eustace finished fucking him, his place was taken by another one of the newcomers, who eventually shot his own load of ball-slime up Owen’s well-used fuck-hole.
Having serviced all six of the newcomers, Owen and Peter were pulled back to their feet. They stood there, heads bowed, fresh ball-scuzz leaking out of their fuck-holes and dribbling down their legs, as Dr. Eustace thanked the villagers for the use of their boi-wives. The village men then pulled the two boys out of the tent and led them back to their enclosure. Neither boy was surprised when they were repeatedly fucked along the way.
Nor were the two boys surprised when, the next night, shortly after sunset, they were returned to the newcomers’ large tent and forced to sexually service them again, though this time, Bryan took the opportunity to fuck Owen twice while he was there, not even bothering to hide the pleasure he took in fucking Owen like a bitch.
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The nightly trip to Dr. Eustace’s tent became part of the two boys’ daily routine. They would spend their days working as drudges for the villagers, though they’d be frequently interrupted and sexually abused as they went about their menial tasks, and then at night they’d service Dr. Eustace’s group in their tent and, after that, any still-horny village man on the way back to their enclosure.
It didn’t take long for both Owen and Peter to realize that, far from being their rescuers, all the arrival of Dr. Eustace’s group had done was increase the numbers of cocks they had to service on a daily basis. Moreover, as time passed, any faint hope the two boys had originally nourished that Dr. Eustace would bargain for their release was snuffed out as it became obvious that no one in Dr. Eustace’s group would want the story of how they had all repeatedly fucked the two captives to become public knowledge. So it was not surprising that less than two weeks after Dr. Eustace’s research party had arrived, both Owen and Peter had sunk back into the dull despair that had marked their lives for the previous two years.
Dr. Eustace’s party had been in the village over two months now and they were planning on leaving in a couple weeks. But this morning, when Owen and Peter had attempted to leave the paddock where they were housed, they discovered that the door had been padlocked with a lock the villagers had seized from Dr. Grammar’s party. This had never happened before and they stood there, dumbfounded, as they waited for someone to come by and ascertain why they weren’t performing their daily duties. But no one ever came.
Then, around noon, they heard a loud commotion coming from the edge of the village where Dr. Eustace’s group had established their encampment. The noise seemed to peak a half hour later and then slowly die down. It had been relatively quiet for the last few hours, though there were intermittent screams and cries that were clearly audible to the boys in their enclosure.
As the sun was sinking towards the west, Owen and Peter were becoming increasingly concerned. It was nice to forego their daily round of labor and sexual abuse, but there was no food in the enclosure, and they were already hungry. They were reluctant to call attention to themselves because that never worked out well, but they wondered whether they needed to make a ruckus just to alert the villagers to their plight. But just as they were reaching the point where they felt like they had to do something, they heard the unmistakable sound of a crowd of villagers headed in their direction.
It was a loud and boisterous group and instinctively the two boys moved away from the paddock’s door. They could hear someone fumbling with the padlock and then the door swung open. Almost simultaneously, two bodies were flung into the enclosure. It was Bryan and Raf. They were both naked, crying and moaning, their bodies covered with bruises and abrasions. It took only a quick glance at their gaping, dripping assholes to tell that they had both been raped – hard and repeatedly. And it took only a similarly brief glance at the aroused state of the village men who had dragged them there to ascertain that the men were nowhere near finished with either of the two new boys. And even as Owen and Peter stood there, stunned, two villagers detached themselves from the crowd and threw themselves on the two boys lying on the ground and began violently fucking them again, as both boys cried out in renewed agony.
It was only moments later that two more men made their way towards Owen and Peter. Those two boys, knowing what was coming, immediately got down on their hands and knees and presented their pussies for fucking. But even as Owen and Peter groaned under their own anal assault, they looked at each other and smiled. They might be condemned to spend the rest of their wretched lives as boi-wives for these villagers but now there were two more of them to share the load. And watching their former assailants become their fellow boy-whores was a measure of justice that couldn’t help but bring them pleasure. And when Owen heard Bryan shout out in pain and humiliation as his fuck-chute was ravaged by a large cock, it was all Owen could do to keep from laughing.
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Owen had been part of an anthropological research group studying a primitive tribe in New Guinea whose physical remoteness had thus far prevented any significant interaction with the outside world. Fifteen years earlier, a lone anthropologist had stumbled onto the tribe and lived with them for a number of months. But other than that single contact, the tribe had experienced no dealings with the outside world until Owen’s group arrived.
Everything had seemed copacetic at first but, earlier today, things had gone dramatically awry. For reasons that Owen couldn’t even begin to comprehend, the warriors of the tribe had attacked and looted the study group’s encampment, murdering almost everyone there without mercy. Only Owen and Peter Smarski, another graduate student, who was from Chicago, were left alive. Smarski had intrigued the villagers from their arrival because of his long blond hair and Owen thought that that might be the reason he’d been spared from the general slaughter. Owen, though, had no clue as to why he had similarly been left alive, but, in the last half hour, the reason for that had become all too obvious.
When they’d began their studies, the anthropologists had been surprised to discover that while the warriors each had their own mate of the opposite sex, they also made frequent use of a number of young men as sexual objects. Dr. Grammar, the head of their study group, had referred to these young men – who were always kept completely naked, an indication of their low status – as ‘village boi-wives,’ since it was obvious that any man in the village could use them sexually whenever he wanted. Which the warriors did, almost invariably in a particularly brutal manner.
Just how brutal the use was, Owen was in the process of discovering for himself. Owen had watched in horror as Peter had been unceremoniously stripped naked and then forced down onto the ground where one of the village warriors had begun violently raping the blond graduate student as the blond squealed and shrieked in obvious agony. And, no sooner had the first assailant yanked his spent cock from Peter’s ass than another warrior mounted the boy and proceeded to fuck him just as rapaciously. But it was not until he, too, spewed a load of Man-scuzz inside the blond and pulled his fuck-stick out of Peter’s battered bung-hole only to have it immediately replaced by yet another rampant cock, that the warriors turned their attention to Owen, who had been tied up on the ground as he watched his fellow student being gang-raped.
There was a brief discussion among the warrior awaiting their turn with Peter’s ass which occasioned a number of glances in Owen’s direction. Soon, three of the warriors, obviously younger than most and therefore of lower status, dislodged themselves and strode over to where Owen was lying.
One reached down, pulled Owen’s shirt over his head and then pulled down his pants. Mere seconds later, Owen’s screams of agony were joining Peter’s as he, too, was sexually violated with incredible force. And when the first warrior finished shooting his load of steamy Man-juice into Owen’s no-longer-virgin asshole, his cock was immediately replaced by another. And then another. And another.
The sexual assaults on the two grad students continued until the wee hours of the morning, until every warrior in the village had had his fill of each of the boys. And then naked, barely able to walk, their ruined assholes spewing spent ball-slime down their legs, Owen and Peter were herded into the enclosed quarter where the ‘village boi-wives’ were housed when not in use. And it was now crystal clear to Owen why they had been spared from the slaughter.
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All that happened two years ago, and since that time, Owen and Peter have lived as ‘boi-wives’ in the village – always naked, subject to violent sexual use multiple times every day. And when they aren’t being sexually abused, they’re treated as human animals, yoked to the rudimentary carts that the anthropologists had brought with them, given the dirtiest, most disgusting tasks to perform, frequently beaten for no reason other than their captors’ amusement. The lowest of the low.
At first, Owen and Peter fought against their degradation, against the daily assaults to which they were subjected. But, with the passage of time, their will to resist, even to object, slowly faded and for over a year now they’ve reconciled themselves to their new life as village boi-wives. Then, out of the blue, the possibility of rescue has presented itself. Another anthropological research group has appeared in the village.
Owen had been out working the fields, hitched to the rudimentary plow the villagers used for cultivation, when a group of village men came out and ordered him to come with them. While two years had not been enough time to learn all the nuances of the dialect the natives spoke, it had been sufficient time for both Owen and Peter to learn enough to understand the various commands which they were given. Having learned the hard way that boi-wives were not permitted to question the men of the village, Owen didn’t ask why they wanted him; he simply went along with them as directed. They took him to the enclosure that had been his home for the last two years. Peter was already inside and, though he tried to mask it, Owen could tell that he was excited.
Owen waited until the men had left before turning to Peter and asking him what was going on. Peter could scarcely contain his excitement. “I was getting ‘barracked’ by Hatchet Face,” he began, employing the village term for ‘fucking’ and using one of the names the two boys had developed to describe each of their abusers, “and he was barracking the shit out of me, as usual. Then, all of a sudden there was a huge commotion at the edge of the village, and I was just able to see that a group of Westerners had entered the village. Next thing I knew, Hatchet Face was dragging my ass here. But I think…I think we’re about to be rescued.”
“You’re kidding,” Owen exclaimed, his excitement matching his fellow boi-wife, “Oh my God…Oh my God. I thought they’d forgotten about us. I thought they’d given us up for dead.”
“Apparently not,” Peter enthused, a smile lighting up his face for the first time in years. “They’ve come for us. They’ve finally come for us.”
“I can’t believe it,” Owen said, though his own euphoric demeanor belied his declaration. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, bro,” Peter laughed. “Believe it.”
However, as time passed and no one came for them, both boys’ belief in the imminence of rescue began to wane. But when, two hours after the sun set, a group of warriors finally came into their enclosure and told them to come with them, hope flared anew. And it seemed as if rescue was at hand when they were escorted into an encampment outside the village, an encampment not much different from the one they had lived in when they first arrived in the village two years earlier. They were ushered into a large tent where, to their joy, they confronted fellow Westerners for the first time in years. And, to his complete shock, Owen recognized one of them.
There, standing in the back of the half-dozen newcomers was Bryan MacMillan, his deep auburn hair and sparkling blue-eyes making him stand out even in the dim light and clearly marking him as the Irish national that he was. He and Owen had been fellow graduate students back at State and, though they’d been pretty fierce rivals back in college, Owen was still gratified to see him standing there. And it was obvious that Bryan recognized him, too, as a grim smile crossed the red-head’s face, a smile that Owen found strangely disconcerting.
There was an awkward moment when Owen and Peter finally stood in front of the newcomers, their surprise obvious on all their faces, both Owen and Peter suddenly embarrassed by their nakedness, something they’d come to take for granted over the past two years. But then an older man, obviously in charge, stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Eustace,” he said, “and you are…?”
“Owen Lee,” Owen quickly answered, and then added “and this is Peter Smarski,” gesturing to the naked boy standing next to him. While he didn’t say anything, he recognized Dr. Eustace as the anthropologist who had first made contact with the tribe years earlier.
“I assume you were part of Dr. Grammar’s group,” Dr. Eustace opined.
“Yes, sir. We were,” Owen agreed.
“Whatever happened to his group?” the man asked. “There hasn’t been any contact from them in the past two years.”
Owen purposefully kept his voice even and flat as he replied. He knew that the tribesmen were listening to him and, while they wouldn’t be able to understand what he said, any apparent agitation on his part might set them off, and Owen knew all too well what they were truly capable of. “They were killed, sir,” he responded. “By the natives here.”
The shock on his listeners faces was manifest and Owen noticed a perceptible tensing in the natives who’d accompanied him and Peter. Fortunately, Dr. Eustace picked up on this, too, and managed to keep his own voice calm as he inquired as to exactly what had happened.
What followed was an extended description of not only the slaughter that had killed all of Dr. Grammar’s group except for Owen and Peter, but also an explanation as to why the two of them had been spared and what their lives had been like since then as village boi-wives, though the two boys left out some of the more degrading experiences they’d been forced to endure during their captivity. “That’s pretty much it,” Owen said, concluding his story.
Dr. Eustace looked at the boy and then at the members of his party. Finally, he spoke up. “Excuse us, boys,” he said, “but we need to discuss everything among ourselves.” And then, as Owen and Peter simply stood there, the members of Dr. Eustace’s party went off to a far corner of the tent where an animated discussion ensued that lasted close to fifteen minutes.
When they returned, Owen couldn’t help but notice that most of them wouldn’t look at either Owen or Peter. And when Dr. Eustace started talking by again referring to the two of them as ‘boys,’ an alarm went off in Owen’s head. He and Peter were both 23 years old and this constant reference to them as ‘boys’ was not only demeaning, it also had disturbing echoes of their use by the village men as ‘boi-wives.’ But even his sudden trepidation, didn’t really prepare Owen for what he was about to hear.
”Boys,” Dr. Eustace began, “we’re all in a rather difficult situation here. From what you’ve told us, the natives here are quite capable of acts of extreme violence. Unfortunately, we’re all unarmed. It was considered unwise to introduce Western weaponry to such primitive peoples, so we purposefully eschewed bringing any weapons with us. But that leaves us totally vulnerable and, from what you’ve told us, the natives won’t hesitate to take drastic action if we anger them.”
“Now,” the man continued, “it’s obvious that they consider the two of you their property – their boi-wives. In fact, they brought you here as a sign of good-will. And…and they expect us to make use of you the way they do. They expect us…well, they expect us to fuck you.”
“You’re not going to do that, sir, are you?” Peter interrupted. “You’re not going to fuck us?”
Dr. Eustace looked embarrassed as he said, “I don’t see how we have any other option. From what you told us, I really don’t see that we have any other option. It’s not something we want to do; it’s something we have to do. Maybe…Maybe over time we can convince the natives to let you go, but, right now, we have to fuck you.”
Dr. Eustace turned to the two youngest members of his party, “Okay, Raf and Bryan, you might as well start.” And, as Owen and Peter stood there in total shock, the two men stepped forward and began disrobing. Once they were naked, Raf walked up to Peter and ordered the blond to get on his knees. Tears streaming down his face, Peter did as he was told and, a moment later he was gagging on the raven-haired boy’s big meat.
At the same time, Bryan walked up to Owen. “You obviously know the drill, Owen,” he said in a voice thick with an Irish brogue, “On your knees and get my cock nice and wet. It’s gonna be going up your fuck-hole, boy, so you’ll want to get it as wet as you can.”
Owen, knowing he had no choice, did as he was told, and seconds later he was gobbling down on Bryan’s hard fuck-stick. Owen didn’t have that much trouble swallowing the red-head’s throbbing boner, but then again Owen had sucked cock literally thousands of times in the last two years. But he was somewhat taken aback when Bryan grabbed the back of his head and began skull-fucking him with real force. Fuck, these guys were supposedly fucking him and Peter because they had no choice, but the way Bryan was going after him sure wasn’t showing any reluctance on his part. Bryan was pummeling Owen’s mouth-pussy exactly like the natives used Owen’s mouth – with obvious lust and a total disregard for Owen’s feelings.
And minutes later, after Bryan extracted his slicked-up boner from Owen’s throat and ordered him to get down on all fours, Bryan began fucking him with all the ferocity Owen had come to expect from his native users. In no time at all, Owen was squealing and shrieking in pain, and he could hear Peter doing the same. Dr. Eustace had said that fucking the two of them wasn’t something his group wanted to do but, from the way Bryan was going after his pussy, Owen couldn’t help but feel that, whether he wanted to fuck him or not, Bryan was certainly enjoying doing it. And the grunts of pleasure constantly being emitted from the red-head’s throat as he began deep-dicking Owen provided vivid evidence of just how much enjoyment Bryan was extracting from Owen’s aching fuck-hole.
Raf finished fucking Peter after about ten minutes, his loud cries and frantic thrusts a clear testament to the massive orgasm he was experiencing, even as Bryan just continued to plow away at Owen’s boypussy, seeming intent on drawing the assault out as long as possible. But any relief that Peter felt as Raf’s spent dick was rudely yanked from his well-used boycunt was momentary as it was almost immediately replaced by another newcomer’s cock.
Owen’s attention was quickly returned to his own situation when Bryan began slapping his ass with real force. “Squeeze that pussy, bitch,” the red-head ordered brusquely. “Squeeze that faggot cunt around my pussybuster.” Hearing that gruff demand, Owen realized that he could expect no show of sympathy from his former classmate, it being all too obvious that the animosity that had marked their former relationship hadn’t ebbed in the slightest even though years had passed. So he just did what Bryan demanded, he squeezed his pussy muscles tight around Bryan’s ravaging cock, increasing both the red-head’s pleasure and his own agonizing pain.
Eventually, with a series of violent, piston-like thrusts up Owen’s abraded fuck-chute, Bryan shot his own load of cum deep inside Owen’s guts. The red-head was resting his spent cock in the sodden moisture of Owen’s freshly riven hole when he leaned forward and whispered, “I always knew you were a faggot, Owen. I’m gonna enjoy the hell outta fucking you while we’re here. You’ve got quite the pussy between those butt-cheeks, bitch. Too bad I didn’t know that in college – I would have trained you up right back then.” Then, with a snort, he roughly pulled his cock from Owen’s asshole, where it was almost immediately replaced by Dr. Eustace’s hard fuck-tool. And when Dr. Eustace finished fucking him, his place was taken by another one of the newcomers, who eventually shot his own load of ball-slime up Owen’s well-used fuck-hole.
Having serviced all six of the newcomers, Owen and Peter were pulled back to their feet. They stood there, heads bowed, fresh ball-scuzz leaking out of their fuck-holes and dribbling down their legs, as Dr. Eustace thanked the villagers for the use of their boi-wives. The village men then pulled the two boys out of the tent and led them back to their enclosure. Neither boy was surprised when they were repeatedly fucked along the way.
Nor were the two boys surprised when, the next night, shortly after sunset, they were returned to the newcomers’ large tent and forced to sexually service them again, though this time, Bryan took the opportunity to fuck Owen twice while he was there, not even bothering to hide the pleasure he took in fucking Owen like a bitch.
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The nightly trip to Dr. Eustace’s tent became part of the two boys’ daily routine. They would spend their days working as drudges for the villagers, though they’d be frequently interrupted and sexually abused as they went about their menial tasks, and then at night they’d service Dr. Eustace’s group in their tent and, after that, any still-horny village man on the way back to their enclosure.
It didn’t take long for both Owen and Peter to realize that, far from being their rescuers, all the arrival of Dr. Eustace’s group had done was increase the numbers of cocks they had to service on a daily basis. Moreover, as time passed, any faint hope the two boys had originally nourished that Dr. Eustace would bargain for their release was snuffed out as it became obvious that no one in Dr. Eustace’s group would want the story of how they had all repeatedly fucked the two captives to become public knowledge. So it was not surprising that less than two weeks after Dr. Eustace’s research party had arrived, both Owen and Peter had sunk back into the dull despair that had marked their lives for the previous two years.
Dr. Eustace’s party had been in the village over two months now and they were planning on leaving in a couple weeks. But this morning, when Owen and Peter had attempted to leave the paddock where they were housed, they discovered that the door had been padlocked with a lock the villagers had seized from Dr. Grammar’s party. This had never happened before and they stood there, dumbfounded, as they waited for someone to come by and ascertain why they weren’t performing their daily duties. But no one ever came.
Then, around noon, they heard a loud commotion coming from the edge of the village where Dr. Eustace’s group had established their encampment. The noise seemed to peak a half hour later and then slowly die down. It had been relatively quiet for the last few hours, though there were intermittent screams and cries that were clearly audible to the boys in their enclosure.
As the sun was sinking towards the west, Owen and Peter were becoming increasingly concerned. It was nice to forego their daily round of labor and sexual abuse, but there was no food in the enclosure, and they were already hungry. They were reluctant to call attention to themselves because that never worked out well, but they wondered whether they needed to make a ruckus just to alert the villagers to their plight. But just as they were reaching the point where they felt like they had to do something, they heard the unmistakable sound of a crowd of villagers headed in their direction.
It was a loud and boisterous group and instinctively the two boys moved away from the paddock’s door. They could hear someone fumbling with the padlock and then the door swung open. Almost simultaneously, two bodies were flung into the enclosure. It was Bryan and Raf. They were both naked, crying and moaning, their bodies covered with bruises and abrasions. It took only a quick glance at their gaping, dripping assholes to tell that they had both been raped – hard and repeatedly. And it took only a similarly brief glance at the aroused state of the village men who had dragged them there to ascertain that the men were nowhere near finished with either of the two new boys. And even as Owen and Peter stood there, stunned, two villagers detached themselves from the crowd and threw themselves on the two boys lying on the ground and began violently fucking them again, as both boys cried out in renewed agony.
It was only moments later that two more men made their way towards Owen and Peter. Those two boys, knowing what was coming, immediately got down on their hands and knees and presented their pussies for fucking. But even as Owen and Peter groaned under their own anal assault, they looked at each other and smiled. They might be condemned to spend the rest of their wretched lives as boi-wives for these villagers but now there were two more of them to share the load. And watching their former assailants become their fellow boy-whores was a measure of justice that couldn’t help but bring them pleasure. And when Owen heard Bryan shout out in pain and humiliation as his fuck-chute was ravaged by a large cock, it was all Owen could do to keep from laughing.