The Boiler Room

By Justin von Deen

            “Help! Help me, somebody!” The sophomore’s cries were in vain. I always made sure to soundproof the boiler room before I had my playtime, and today was no exception. Although I generally went for older guys, juniors and seniors mostly, there was something about Ryan that just worked for me. He had the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen, and I loved the way he kept his blond hair spiked just high enough to be cute without looking tacky. He had a pretty athletic body, toned quite well for his age, with the most adorable face I’d seen since I started attending this school a year ago. The way his t-shirt would blow in the wind to reveal his perfectly toned abs drove me wild every time he walked down the hallway. Of course I had to have him.

            It was relatively easy to take him; he was only 5’5” and maybe 140 pounds soaking wet. I’d been watching him carefully for weeks, tracking his schedule and trying to determine the best time to strike. It turns out that he passes the secret passage I found hidden in the walls of our school right after his math class. A hidden passage, you ask? Well, it’s not so much a passageway as much as a secluded hallway leading to the boiler room. Bluff Hills High School had to fire its last caretaker for peeking into the girls’ locker room with a true secret passage, and has yet to hire another. Until they get a new caretaker, the boiler room is mine.

            I snatched him this morning around 7:45. He was already quite late for class, and the hallways were deserted save for the two of us. All I had to do was sneak up behind him and grab him from behind with the chloroform Travis had given me a week before. I owed Travis for that one. That kid’s a friggin’ genius when it comes to chemistry. The two of us have been best friends for years, and he’s promised to make almost anything for me so long as he gets a piece of the action, so to speak.

            It didn’t take long for me to tie little Ryan to the metal folding chair I kept in the boiler room. The dried blood on the floor was next to impossible to see in the red haze of the steamy cell, not that it bothered me in the least. He made high-pitched moaning sounds as he began to come to; I knew I had to act quickly. I tied his right foot to the leg of the chair and took his left foot in my hand. My heart was pounding with anticipation as I gently pulled Ryan’s shoe off. I laughed inside at how surprisingly clean his feet smelled. He must have just showered before coming to school. I could feel a tent rising in my pants as I slowly slipped his sock off, salivating at his cute little toes. They were formed very well, somewhat long, not too bony and not too chubby. I took a few moments to taste them, nibbling gently on each of Ryan’s soft, surprisingly warm digits.

            It was around then that Ryan finally regained consciousness. He screamed and kicked at me with all the might he could muster. Ordinarily this wouldn’t have been a problem, but the kid surprised me, catching me in the chin with his bare foot. I fell backwards, a little annoyed at having accidentally bitten my tongue, but unharmed. Ryan’s foot, however, was a different story.

            “Ouch! Ow—oh! It hurts!” Ryan squealed, kicking his only free limb back and forth on the chair. I chuckled a little bit. I think you had to be there, but it was pretty hilarious to watch this absolutely gorgeous blonde swinging his bare foot back and forth while otherwise tied soundly to a chair. “You broke my toe!! Oww—my toe, my TOE!”

            “Aww, does it hurt, Ryan?” I said, rising to my feet. It was true; the boy’s second toe was bent backwards at a funny angle, pointing almost perpendicular to the rest of his toes.

            “L—let me go! Please, please don’t hurt me…” Ryan whimpered. He must have finally realized that, tied securely to the chair, he was helpless. I pulled up a chair of my own and sat across from him, dragging the old plastic bucket I’d bought from Home Depot. The bucket was stained a rusty burgundy at the bottom, but I kept it just behind my chair to keep from spoiling the surprise. Ryan was a smart kid, I’m sure he’d figure out what was going to happen if he had a chance to look inside of it.

            As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had a fascination with amputating other boys’ body parts. Fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, legs, ears, or genitals; everything was fair game. But toes and genitals were always my favorite. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I had a bit of a fetish for them, really.

            “Don’t worry about that, Ryan,” I whispered, gently taking his injured foot in my hand. I caressed his foot gently, lightly tickling his sole, and rested my hand on his fragile little toes. I brought his foot up to my mouth and kissed his broken toe softly, ignoring his gasp of pain. “I’ll show you a little trick to take your mind off your broken toe. It sure looks painful. ”

            “Please…” the boy begged, trembling as my right hand disappeared behind my back. Fumbling for a few moments, I found what I was looking for. Fastened to the back of my chair, hanging in an old tool belt, was my hand-held branch pruner. It was a fine-quality tool, to be sure. It resembled nothing so much as a pair of curved scissors with extremely well weighted handles designed to maximize its user’s leverage. The pruner was mainly designed for cutting through tough branches and tiny saplings growing in the dirt.

I was fourteen years old before I really understood that the same tool could be used on humans. Travis and I were wrestling barefoot in his yard when I grabbed his mother’s garden pruner and pretended to threaten him with it. Never one to be outdone, Travis tackled me and tried to wrench it from my hands. It was all in good fun until he accidentally kneed me in the nuts. Looking back on it, I was just looking for an excuse, but I screamed at him and dove for his feet. Travis tried to shake me off, but I snipped three of his toes in half before he grabbed the pruner away from me. By then, I had such a hard-on just staring blankly at his mutilated feet that I didn’t even try to stop him when he cut both of my big toes off.

Lying there, bleeding serenely in the warm summer’s breeze, I noticed that there was a tent in Travis’s pants, too. Maybe it was the warmth of the sun beaming down on us as the wind blew his long brown hair into his face, or perhaps our raging hormones were to blame, but both of us knew that something special had just happened. It wasn’t long before his mother ran outside, screaming her head off when she saw us covered in blood in her backyard. We made up some bullshit story about a homeless guy trying to molest us, and then cut off our toes when we refused to leave with him. It sounded half-baked and stupid even then, but I think his mom chose to believe us because the alternative was much more disturbing. After spending some time in the hospital, our toes were reattached. Not a great payoff, it’s true, but I’ll never forget the way Travis’s left foot looked missing the tips of his three smallest toes. We became inseparable after that, Travis and I.

            I shook my head. Gotta get back to reality, Rusty. Ryan’s expression was still wary, even though I hadn’t moved an inch in well over a minute. I drew the pruner from its leather sack and tentatively placed the blades on either side of his broken second toe. Ryan gasped as I pushed the pruner down against his other four toes, trying to position the blades all the way at the base of his soft little digit. I squeezed the handle, and with a short crack, Ryan’s second toe fell into my lap.

            “See? I’ll bet you’re not even thinking about that broken bone,” I chuckled under Ryan’s shouts of agony. I held his foot fast between my elbow and thigh as he kicked and thrashed in pain. When his initial shock subsided, I took the severed toe out of my lap and stuck it in my mouth. It was still warm, and tasted mildly of soap. That is, aside from the taste of blood. After savoring it for a moment, I took it out of my mouth and gently placed it into my bucket.

            “Holy shit! What did you do to my toe?” Ryan cried, vainly kicking his foot. It occurred to me that my body was obscuring Ryan’s view of what I had done. I simply smiled at him and looked down at his four-toed foot.

            “You know, your big toe looks really cute all by itself,” I laughed, holding up his mutilated foot so that he could see it. For the longest time he merely stared at it, stunned, in utter disbelief that he was looking at his own foot. I began to suck his big toe again, lapping my tongue in between the gap that remained between his first and third toes. He seemed to respond to this, wiggling his big toe in something that may have been pleasure or mortification. I nibbled gently at the base of his big toe, keeping my eyes trained on his for any sign of movement. I cradled his foot in my arms and proceeded to rub his big toe against the growing tent in my pants. It felt so good; I had to force myself to stop before I came in my pants. Instead, I placed the pruner blades against the base of his big toe and began to squeeze.

            “Why are you doing this to me?” Ryan choked out. I ignored him and squeezed harder, chopping Ryan’s big toe clean off. The boy briefly cried out and sobbed to himself, but nothing more. I dropped his big toe into my bucket.

            “Because I want to, Ryan. And because I can,” I replied. Gazing at his three-toed foot, I wondered what I ought to do next. Should I finish of his other toes, or move on to his other foot? Maybe take a finger or two? “What should I do next, Ryan?”

            “W—what?” He seemed startled, but made no attempt to move his foot from my grasp.

            “What should I do next? Should I take another of your toes on this foot, move on to your other foot, or should I start with your fingers? I have other ideas, too, but I’m waiting for Travis to get here first.”

            “You want me to—decide?” Ryan’s eyes started to well up with tears. “I—I can’t! I won’t do it! You can’t expect me to do something like that!”

            “Choose, or I’ll amputate all of your fingers and toes.”

            Ryan was silent for almost a solid minute. His foot was trembling, as was the rest of him. The aura of fear he gave out was so… sexy.

            “My other foot.”

            “What was that? I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” I couldn’t help myself. My face lit up in a grand, beaming smile; one of the few genuine smiles I could muster anymore. It was all I could do to keep the giddy laughter contained within me when I heard his low, utterly defeated voice again.

            “My other foot. Cut—” Ryan choked on his own tears, descending into whimpers and sobs once again. I nearly creamed my pants; I couldn’t believe it! He was falling for it—playing my game, so to speak.

            “All right, if it’s what you want, Ryan,” I said. I tied the boy’s mutilated left foot to his chair and untied his right. I intentionally drew out the removal of his shoe and sock, taking in every second of his terrified anticipation. I suddenly wished I had a camera—what a perfect opportunity! Finally, his sock was removed and Ryan’s delectable right foot was mine to behold. As with his left foot, I took a few minutes to suck each of his warm, sweaty toes until the salty taste was gone.

            “Don’t do this… Please?” Ryan whispered hopefully. He eyed me nibbling his toes, and I’d wager it gave him an idea to save his hide. “I’ll let you suck my toes again—whenever you want! I’ll even be your slave if you ask me to—just please don’t hurt me anymore?”

            Silly boy. He thought that he could reason with me. I simply shook my head and worked the blades of the pruner to the base of his pinky toe. I clutched the handle and Ryan’s little toe fell off. He screamed slightly louder than I expected; I nearly dropped the garden pruners. He was wheezing heavily from the pain, visibly straining to prevent himself from bawling like a child. Another snap, another shriek, and Ryan’s fourth toe was gone as well. I chuckled and began to suck his three remaining toes, more to spite him than out of actual desire. I took the middle toe from him then; it fell right off his foot and into my mouth.

            “Aw, man! I knew you would hog all the fun, Rusty!” Travis’s familiar, boisterous voice halted my ecstasy for a moment. I turned slightly to face him, taking most of Ryan’s toes out of my mouth (his middle toe remained).

            “HELP ME—uh… oh.” Ryan bit his lip and wept silently. He would get no help from Travis, that was for sure. I dropped Ryan’s toe into the bucket along with the others.

Travis was nude, as was his habit whenever he entered our boiler room. Yeah, I know I said it was mine, but I was willing to share it with Travis. After all, who could resist getting to see his well-tanned, track-and-field body butt-naked? I loved his shiny, soft brown hair that rested just above his shoulders. I can’t imagine that they didn’t tickle or itch his shoulders whenever he went nude. Indeed, I adored the little scars that ran all the way around the three smallest toes of his left foot. But most of all, I could never get enough of the wonderful sight of his erection bobbing up and down and side to side as he walked towards us, seemingly oblivious to his nudity. He also had the hottest cock I’d care to acknowledge; long and somewhat thin, uncut, with a tan to match the rest of his body. To this day, I’m not sure which I would prefer: to have it cumming deep inside of me or severed like a Popsicle in my hands.

“Now look at him, he’s hardly got any toes left, man,” Travis knelt down in front of me, examining Ryan’s bare feet. The young blonde tried to hide them, but Travis grabbed his right foot by the toes and lifted it. “Five? You cut off half of his toes while I was gone, Rusty? You know I like to see your performance from start to finish.”

“Don’t blame me, I was going to start taking his fingers, but he insisted that I cut off more toes instead,” I grinned, shooting a triumphant glance in Ryan’s direction. The boy sobbed. Travis’s naked cock brushed against Ryan’s bare leg as he turned to face him. He fumbled with Ryan’s ropes for a few seconds, tying the boy’s right foot back onto the chair.

“Dude, did you have to tie him up so much?” Travis said, pulling at a few stray lumps of rope. “I can’t even find his crotch in this mess!”

“Save it, would you? You’re always trying to skip ahead,” I rubbed my growing boner through my jeans, mentally cursing it for being so much smaller than Travis’s. Although I worked out regularly, my body never built the same amount of tone and definition Travis’s did. As a result, I resembled an anorexic gymnast more than the avid runner I actually was.

“It’s only fair, Rusty. You cut off his toes before I got here, so I should get to take his cock and balls,” Travis ran his fingers through my greasy black hair, toying with it in a way that he knew made me shiver.

“Aw, fine,” I said, honey dripping from my voice. I had to give it to him; Travis knew just how to push my buttons. He smiled at me, then turned to Ryan and knelt in front of his bound legs, rubbing the boy’s crotch with his palms.

“Yeah, this’ll do just fine,” Travis said, pulling the ropes away from Ryan’s crotch area. “Say Rusty, do you have any tape?”

“Uh, I have some duct tape in back. What do you want that for?” I looked at him, a little puzzled. “You’re not gonna gag him, are you?”

“Yeah, I think I will. He looks like a screamer,” Travis replied, examining the bulge in Ryan’s pants. He rubbed it several more times, ignoring the boy’s feeble whimpers. “Did he cry out when you cut his toes?”

“Yeah, a bit,” I said. I shuffled through my old junk in the back of the boiler room for a few minutes and returned with the tape. “You sure you don’t want to hear him? He’s really cute when he screams.”

“Not for what I have in mind,” Travis winked at me as he unzipped Ryan’s pants. The boy opened his mouth to say something but I was already on top of him, binding his mouth with several thick layers of duct tape. Ryan sobbed as Travis pulled his pants off and stripped his underwear down to his ankles. Travis scoffed. Sure, Ryan’s was bigger than mine by two or three inches, but I think he was expecting more after the way I had been swooning over him. Travis still had the biggest boner in the room, of course. Once again, I was more than a little jealous.

“Go get that wire out of my backpack,” Travis instructed, kneading and gently probing Ryan’s member, keeping it standing at attention. I complied; it didn’t take long to find the spool of wire hidden amongst Travis’s discarded clothes and textbooks. Playing with it in my hands for a moment, I recognized it as piano wire. My cock jumped when I grasped what Travis was planning to do.

“It’s all yours,” I chirped, smiling giddily at the terrified boy tied up in the chair. Travis was still playing with Ryan’s dick, and the poor boy’s face was dripping with tears. Travis took the wire from me, and almost without thinking, began to wrap it delicately around Ryan’s pinkish scrotum. Ryan tried to kick him, punch him, or at the very least squirm away, but his bonds were too sturdy. Instead, he managed to cut the outside of his ball sac on the wire.

“Yeah, this is my favorite part,” Travis panted, flicking Ryan’s balls with his finger. Ryan squirmed as Travis squeezed them painfully between his fingers. “You won’t be needing these where you’re going, buddy. They’ll be mine pretty soon.”

Ryan was all-out crying by then, wildly shaking his head and pleading with his eyes for mercy. Poor kid, he didn’t know Travis well at all. Begging just made him enjoy torturing you even more. True to his reputation, Travis began to pull on the stray bits of wire poking from Ryan’s sac. As he did so, the wire sunk deep into Ryan’s skin and disappeared; replaced with a thin red line of blood. Ryan was screaming into his gag in a way I didn’t think he was capable of. Even with the tape over his mouth, the boy was somehow screaming louder than he had been when I cut his toes off.

“Told you he was a screamer,” Travis chuckled as he pulled the wire taut. Ryan’s balls fell down into his lap, completely separated from his body. I nearly blew my load right then; the sheer terror in Ryan’s eyes was priceless! He never even got a last orgasm, the poor little guy. His dick, still erect somehow, was dripping an odd pink mix of blood and cum, and it jerked on and off, as though trying to shoot without realizing that it was coming up short in the testicular area.

Travis dropped Ryan’s severed balls into the bucket and smiled. I smiled back, rubbing my crotch in anticipation. He picked up the length of wire and went back to Ryan, this time tying the wire around the base of his cock. Ryan seemed to have completely given in to despair by then; he neither struggled nor made a sound as Travis pushed the wire deep into his skin, trying to get as much of his disappointing little penis above the wire as possible.

“Sorry Ryan,” I whispered sweetly into his ear as Travis began to slowly pull on the wire again. The thin length of metal disappeared into Ryan’s skin as the wire slowly amputated his penis. “But didn’t we have fun? You even got to have a say in what we did to you. Not many people get that honor, you know.”

Travis blew his load all over the floor as the wire went taut again, severing Ryan’s penis at the base. The lonely organ flopped down and landed at Ryan’s mutilated feet. I came in my pants at once, humping Ryan’s shoulder in the process. The most amazing thing was that Ryan didn’t make a peep throughout the whole ordeal. Instead, he just sat there, shaking his head in disbelief as Travis sucked on his amputated cock like a candy cane.

To be continued…

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