Balfor and Terry

Deep inside the ship Terry willed his taut legs to keep stretched and free of cramp. His nuts ached and throbbed to the point where he found it hard to breathe, but he was surprised that it bothered him next to the horror that he was probably going to be killed by his fellow smugglers any moment now.

If he was lucky.

Every time the old ship came crashing down on the lee side of one of the enormous rollers outside he screamed in pain and tried desperately to steady himself. He was utterly helpless.

His almost hairless naked young body shivered uncontrollably with cold and fear.

Several of the other smugglers on board had secured his arms behind his back and chained him up by the neck and balls to some overhead pipes at just such a length that he was desperately trying to save his breath and his manhood by standing on tip toe. Not an easy task with a storm raging outside, and his legs separated by more chains at his ankles.

The soles of his feet were stinging from where Captain Balfor had slowly screwed his lit cigar into them over and over again while torturing him.

Once again the groaning old ship came down hard and Terry was flung backward with only his throat and testicles for support. It felt like his balls were tearing out of his abdomen. Searing pain engulfed his neck and lower body and he tore the flesh of his wrists in a desperate attempt to free his hands from their manacles and grab on to something. Although he knew it would probably be a less horrible death than Balfor had planned for him, he couldn't help trying desperately to keep conscious, because to pass out with such a tight restraint around his neck would mean certain death.

Balfor must be a certifiable psycho, Terry thought. Terry had already screamed out everything about his plans to steal the drug money from them but Balfor had kept working his toes with that glowing red ember. After a particularly long and lingering burn, the big hairy mongrel had taken a drag on it and said to him "You know Terry, I can taste your pretty little feet in this smoke." He'd smiled and gazed into space as if savoring an old wine. At that point he had dismissed the several men who had been spectating the torture.

As soon as the men were gone Balfor had flopped out his great fish stinking cod of a cock and balls and had aimed a stream of piss all over Terry where he lay chained and helpless on an iron bench top in a disused part of the ship's machine room.

Though he had tried to press his lips together, he had involuntarily gasped as Balfor's piss splashed up his nose. Some got in his mouth. It tasted acrid and salty. He tried to spit it out but the taste would not go away. As it splashed over his face and chest and stung his burned feet, Terry had winced with the ignominy of knowing he would die with the taste of Captain Balfor's urine on his tongue.

But worse than this and twice as humiliating had been the realisation that the man's domineering height, well wrought features and the charisma of his calculated cruelty were factors working deep in his Terry's psyche where he had no control. Something about Balfor's relentlessness, his gruff masculine single mindedness caused an irresistible response. In the midst of that horrible perversity Terry had begun to feel something like love for his torturer. He was actually getting an erection, though his will had fought against it mightily.

It dawned on him suddenly that he been subconsciously driven to steel the money hoping that this would happen. He had been obsessing about the captain for weeks, but now he knew he had only been kidding himself that it was because he needed to factor him into his plans for the robbery. He had heard stories from the other men of the way Balfor dealt with those who offended him, and he had unconsciously envied them as part of his self destructive impulse.

How ironic he thought to himself, and very fitting that after all those times I went fag bashing with the gang back home, that I die now at the hands of a gay guy, knowing that I'm the fag and have been all along - I'm really getting what I deserve.

With the insistent humiliating reek of his piss, Balfor had shattered the denial Terry had worked so hard and long to maintain. The shame was a weight, suffocating him.

Tears of grief and self loathing began to well in his eyes. He had never been able to face the idea of not being normal. He absolutely did not want to be a homosexual. He knew that he had never had the courage to face it.

When Terry finished sobbing, his contrition began to be replaced with fear of the punishment to come.

Balfor had left him stewing on the bench in piss for a while. On returning he unceremoniously undressed and mounting the bench had said to him - "If you want to die quickly you'd better be prepared to so some licking." After Terry's upper arms were crushed painfully under Balfor's legs as he shifted position a couple of times he sat his not very clean hairy arse with it's full suffocating musky weight on Terry's head and with slow and languid thrusts of his pelvis, he lovingly rubbed the crack of his arse on Terry's face, and started jerking off. Terry could feel the man's fist beating rhythmically against his chin.

Although in no position to do so, Terry steeled himself for a refusal of Balfor's bargain but his tongue came out and started working frantically in spite of his indignity after he felt the heat of Balfor's cigar searing through the pubic hair at the base of his independantly re-hardening dick.

Although Terry strained and screamed with every breath and thrust his tongue as skillfully as possible to make him stop, Balfor slowly worked the fire up the shaft of Terry's painfully hard little boy dick anyway.

Oh my God thought Terry, he's ruining my cock!

When his consciousness began to blur around the edges as the endorphins of his torture kicked in, he felt Balfor's weight lift from him and then something heavy and metallic was being jammed into his mouth. After it was positioned Terry watched through a haze of tears as Balfor's enormous hands worked a ratchet on some screws in the contrapion between his teeth. As he did so Terry's jaw began to strain open, and soon the muscles and ligaments aroung his mouth were stretched to their limits and beyond.

When the clamp was open wide enough, Balfor inserted between the screws a smooth and carefully machined donut shaped piece of stainless steel, the hole of which was made to comfortably accommodate Balfor's fat cock and shield it from teeth. Once this protective flange had been clicked into place Terry instantly felt that slimy cock slowly and inexorably slide down his throat until Balfor's balls came down over his nose and upper lip. Balfor's heady scrotal aroma invaded his nostrils and again Terry's little gay traitor dick stood to attention.

After a second Terry found that when he tried to breath in, his nostrils were valved off by soft moist scrotum, sealing off his air completely. Balfor stayed with his cock buried that way for a long time enjoying the sight of Terry bucking and wriggling and going blue. He got a lot of stimulation as Terry's throat spazmed and gagged around his meat as the wiry little man beneath him fought for breath and life.

He let Terry come back up for air and then as soon as he had recovered he did it again.

And again, and again.

Although he would never have tired of this game, he was nearing orgasm and so he started leisurely fucking Terry's face, resting on one magnificently muscled arm, and burning his cigar around the sorely swollen purple corona of Terry's glans with the other.

With his identity fragmenting in a haze of outraged helplessness and agony, knowing that Balfor's cigar was destroying the major part of his cock's sensetivity, that he might never be able to reach orgasm again after this, and with Balfor's merciless cock ramming in and out of his face and the cigar stimulating him in the most fearsome way possible for the last time, Terry blew all over himself just before Balfor unloaded down his throat.

Balfor had remorselessly left his cock there until Terry turned blue, stopped spasming and lost consciousness, doubtlessly imagining that this was the moment of his death.

As Terry waited now hours later, hanging by throat and balls, not entirely glad to still be alive, he could still smell the reek of Balfor's scrotum and taste his arse hole and salty piss. His cock was just an aching, swollen suppurating mess. If it ever healed it would just be a lump of scar tissue. He doubted that he would ever be able to feel enough through it again to reach orgasm even if Balfor and the other men took pity on him and let him live long enough for it to heal. He had heard fearful stories of men whose cocks had been removed or destroyed for one reason or another, who now if they were lucky could only cum from being fucked or electrically stimulated. He supposed he would become one of those if by some miracle he lived through this.

He could hear the muffled voices of Balfor and crewman Harris arguing in the next compartment. They were deciding what to do with him. Harris had been Terry's friend and was trying to get Balfor and the others to do him neat and quick, but Balfor was adamant that he should be made an example of, considering that he had tried to steal money that was to be divided up between them all.

After another half hour of hanging and swinging, Terry heard the hatch open and Balfor came in to survey his handiwork.

Tears of relief welled in Terry's eyes to see that he was not smoking.

Balfor sealed the hatch again, and then undoing some locks, he let Terry's balls hang free after giving them a rough squeezing massage to pull and tug them even further out.. Then he released enough of the chain around his neck to let him stand normally, though his arms were still secured behind him and his legs were kept apart by the chains.

Terry was not stupid enough to beg for his life. He knew now exactly how implacable the great bear of a man before him was.

Like lightening Balfor kicked him between the legs. A proper goal scoring kick, the squelching thud of his hard leather boot on Terry's gonads loud in the small compartment. Then he stood back, arms folded, eyes shining to watch the performance.

When Terry had finished screaming and dry wretching, though still barely able to breathe because of shock and the agonised throbbing of his ruptured nuts, he felt rough hands gripping his naked pelvis, pulling it backwards so his repressed little virgin arsehole would be better positioned for the onslaught to come.

Terry felt groping fingers exploring his crack for a moment and then as Balfor reached around the front of him and grabbed the bruised mass of his genitals, giving them a hard pumping squeeze, he felt the shock of Balfor's now familiar cock splitting him and driving up deep into his guts, further and further it seemed with every brutal advance.

Each time Balfor pulled out it felt like he was losing his insides, but Terry was barely able to think of this next to the agony of his ruptured balls as they banged against his thighs. Even if some remnant of testicular tissue remained in there to keep him producing testosterone to maintain his masculinity, he was sure he now would never be father.

It was not that he had ever planned to have children. He had always known himself to be too selfish for this, but while the possibility of it was there he had been able to walk tall in the repressed society he was used to, considering himself normal. A real man. As the enormity of Balfor's total control over him sunk in, along with the first stirring inklings that a major part of him that had lain dormant didn't mind so much, he now realised how deluded he had been.

Instead of crying, he was surprised to find a new hope dawning that maybe he could find some kind of meaning and redemption in all this. It strangely did not matter all of a sudden, that he was being fucked like a two dollar whore and was about to be killed. He had found himself. His true nature. And what's more he had found love. When he thought of Balfor his heart swelled inside him with a vehement devotion. He no longer had the strength to fight it.

Through all the pain, he loved the feeling of Balfor's cock deep inside him, filling his whole being, subjugating him deliciously to the imperatives of another man. Faster and faster Balfor thrust and as he came again with a great animal cry that filled Terry's ears, Terry knew that he was that man's slave for life, no matter what else transpired. He could only watch in silence as Balfor tucked his cock back inside his pants, and left without a word or a look.

After a couple of minutes several men came stony faced to Terry and put a hessian bag over his head and secured it around his neck with a rope.

They unshackled the chains from his wrists and replaced them with rope. then the same with his ankles. Terry felt something heavy and metallic click agonisingly tight around the squashy remains of his balls where the chains had been. Then he smelled sweaty armpits as one of the bigger crewmen swung him over his shoulder and carried him upward toward the deck.

He could feel the blood rushing to his head. He wished it was all over. He wished he had never been born.

Who ever was carrying him kept bumping his legs and head against the hatches and corners make his miserable last moments even more miserable. He screamed and whimpered and pleaded but the men had no courage to disobey captain Balfor.

Terry had already known that he could count on no one's help when he had factored in all the risks of his theft. Well it was just his luck, he thought that the worst case scenario had been the one to actually turn out.

Once more his head was banged against something and this time he passed out.

When he came to he realised that his arms were free and he was hanging upside down by one foot. His left. The pain in the foot and leg he was hanging from was like nothing he had ever felt. It was deep bone-pain. He looked up and saw why.

His former cohorts had it in the vice grip at the end of the cable hanging from one of the cargo ship's loading cranes. A mixture of rain, grease and blood was running down his naked leg and over his exhausted pale body. It looked and felt like his left leg was dislocated. There was a big pit in the skin near his pelvis where the ball had come out of the socket. His right leg dangled out at an angle in from of him swinging wildly with the rocking of the ship and the wind. He did not dare to try and move it voluntarily, intuiting that any muscular movement in his over stressed pelvic region would not be a good idea.

He saw what had been secured around his scrotum. It was a very chunky padlock with a length of chain attached for extra weight.

To drag him down.

The surging of the ship swung him around and then he could see the section of deck where the crew huddled against the freezing squall, stepping from foot to foot, waiting to witness the execution.

They had a spot light trained on him.

Balfor had his cock out again and was surreptitiously jerking at it under his overcoat with a distracted look on his face, savoring Terry's pain and terror.

He obviously didn't care that the other guys noticed him doing it. It had never mattered to him that they knew he was queer. He was too big and terrifying to be intimidated by any of them or even all of them at once. he just let them watch as he tugged on his meat. He knew it was probably disturbing them. This thought pleased him.

He held his other hand on the crane's controls.

Terry's eyes widened. He was too far above them in the squall for any screams of mercy to reach their ears so he did not bother. He watched everything with a calm detachment, knowing that this was the end. Below him the thundering waves heaved into the sides of the groaning ship. Terry hoped one of them would smash him against the hull and put at end to it all.

The crewmen watched on with hollow furtive eyes full of shame and dread.

The moment Balfor started coming, he pushed the button releasing the clamp on Terry's foot. His expression didn't change as the young thief's helpless naked body vanished into the foaming gloom below. As his orgasm ebbed, he leaned over the edge of the deck and could just see him for a couple of seconds desperately trying to keep his head above water, which must have been hard with one crushed foot and his balls weighed down by the padlock and chain. He knew he had calculated the weight of the chain against Terry's strength well and the boy would take at least an hour to succumb.

Balfor was mildly annoyed that he had not been able to hang Terry up by the balls. He liked hanging hapless men up by their balls, but his experience of this told him that the testicular mash inside Terry's scrotum would not bear his weight. Still, he thought, it was a very enjoyable kick. And a good ball kick was more intimate somehow than a nut hang. He was sorry too a little, that he had to kill Terry to provide a lesson for his other men. He had started to develop something like a fondness for him. If only the kid had not turned out to be such a traitorous little thief, he would have liked to keep him for a pet. He had even started to think about having a cage made. Balfor pondered with slight melancholy about how cute Terry had been, what a nice smile he had. He even smelled nice. Maybe he would have lasted a bit longer than the others.

Balfor and his men retired inside the ship for round of poker.

The "Brenhines Blaidd" with her outdated navigating equipment founded on a reef an hour later with the loss of seven million dollars in drug money and every soul on board but one.

Terry turned out to be a better swimmer than Balfor had estimated and with his last strength had crawled and half washed up onto the beach of a remote uninhabited island before collapsing among the rain drenched grasses of a dune.

By the time he awoke and dragged himself to his feet the storm had abated. The tropical heat resumed its tyranny and after his initial limping exploration of the island, a folded palm frond on his head to shield against the sun, and holding the chain up to keep its weight off his dark purple scrotum which had started to look a bit shrivelled, Terry found a stream of fresh water to drink and had managed to catch a fish to eat from one of the rockpools at the edge of a beach. Realising his incapacity to make fire, he was grateful for his addiction to sushi. He found some odd looking but delicious fruits as well and after his meal he lay down in the shade of a palm grove to rest.

After the deepest and most refreshing sleep that he could remember, Terry emerged from his dreams feeling an odd mixture of joy and foreboding. When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was a great pair of sandy feet with hairy toes and thick ankles.

Balfor was looming over him, a great black-bearded figure in damp long johns, smiling with cruel anticipation.