The Preachers Son part 1 His Past Revealed

Author: spartan
Title: The Preacher's Son, part 1 (His Past Revealed)
Date: 17 July 2013

“Ah-h-h. That is so nice, sir.”

Brian lay back as Allan was stroking his penis. Soon Brian erupted. Allan turned to Brian and kissed him. Then he pulled out a leather penis gag and strapped it onto Brian.

“Time to turn in”, said Allan.

Allan pulled out the well-worn leather hood with nose holes only and strapped it onto Brian’s head. Allan picked up the chastity device and locked it back onto Brian’s now deflated penis. He put this back into the rubber sleep sack and zipped the penis covering back up. It was difficult due to the extreme tightness of the rubber sleep sack. Allan had to pull the rubber several times to get it to close. This finally done, he zipped the penis covering back up on the leather sleep sack that was covering the rubber sleep sack. Allan checked each of the leather straps on the leather sleep sack to make sure they were as tight as they could go, and pulled the string covering tighter. Brian let out a moan as he did so.

Allan then clipped the bottom of the leather sleep sack to the metal end of the bed Brian was stretched out on.

“You’ll need to stretch out further so I can clip your hood to the top end of the bed frame.”

With that Brian started positioning himself further up on the leather bed covering, first moving his legs and stretching them out, then his pelvis, then his shoulders, and finally stretching his neck and head as far as they could go. This finished, Allan was just able to clip the top of the hood to the metal frame at the top of the bed. To finish it off, Allan put a thick leather posture collar around Brian’s neck and pulled it as far as it could go, finally reaching under Brian’s head and stretching the leather opening to the last prong and placing it over, padlocking it shut. Brian’s breathing began to get a little labored, and his penis tried to get erect again, but couldn’t with the chastity on.

“Get a good night’s sleep, because this is the last weekend for play before you go off to visit your parents.”

The thought of Brian visiting his parents caused him to suddenly start having chills. He loved his mother and looked forward to seeing her. It was his step-father that caused him the chills. Brian had always been in fear of his step-father.

“Get some sleep”, Allan’s voice echoed in Brian’s brain. In this tight rubber sleep sack, in chastity, leather straps tightly covering his body inside the rubber sleep sack, covering his ankles, legs below the knees, legs above the knees, leather corset tight around his stomach, clamps on tits, butt plug touching his prostate, then also covered with the leather sleep sack, penis gag, leather hood, posture collar cutting into his neck and restricting his breathing, stretched out to the max, aroused to the hilt and unable to ejaculate, looking forward to a weekend of play time followed by the dreaded visit with his step-father, and supposed to get some sleep. How?

It took a few hours, but Brian finally dozed off. Allan on the adjacent bed was able to hear Brian’s regular breathing. There was also the heart monitor hooked up to Brian which would loudly sound in case anything should go wrong. Working in the medical field had its advantages for extreme bondage, thought Allan.

When morning came, Allan quietly got up, dressed, and went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. During the week this was one of Brian’s tasks, as was keeping the house in shape. But Allan didn’t mind doing this on the weekend. He was looking forward to having some play time with his fiancé. They had enough problems to deal with, Allan with his stressful job and Brian with his nightmares of his upbringing. They both needed the fun that the weekend brought.

Allan thought about when he first met this bondage pig that he was soon going to marry. Brian had been brought into the emergency room where Allan was working. Brian had been beaten up and left on the street. Allan noticed not only the recent wounds, but also the many scars that had healed from previous wounds, and wondered what the youth had been through to cause all that.
When Brian had recovered enough to talk, Allan found out that they had a lot of common interests, especially bondage, and that Brian had been living on the street with nowhere to go. Allan had been looking for someone to keep at home, so when Brian was well enough to be released, Allan took him in. It was the best step either of them had taken, since they were both attracted to each other, and they each provided what the other needed.

That had been five years ago. Allan had learned what turned Brian on, and Brian had learned what Allan needed. And soon they were going to be married, now that the laws had changed to allow this to happen. But there was a part of Brian that he had kept closed off to access. Besides the physical scars, there obviously were some emotional scars. Allan thought that he needed to get Brian to open this part of him up, to face it and get it behind him, before he could look forward to a future.

Allan wanted them to visit both their parents to try to get their approvals for the marriage. Like many gays, he wanted approval for his lifestyle and choice of a partner. That caused their first argument. Brian would never say what had been done to him during his upbringing, but he clearly dreaded visiting home. All that Allan could get out of Brian was that the step-father had a large part in creating Brian’s bondage desires, as well as being in large part responsible for the scars he bore. But Brian obviously had a fondness for his mother. Finally Allan convinced Brian to at least give the visit a try, and that Allan would join him a couple of days later and try to convince Brian’s step-father that Allan was the best thing for Brian.

Breakfast ready, Allan took it into their bedroom. Brian was fast asleep. Allan quietly unhooked the hood from the top of the bed frame and slid their favorite heavy-duty plastic bag over Brian’s head, pulling the bottom around Brian’s neck and tightly closing it with the Velcro lining. He then unzipped the penis coverings on both sleep sacks, unlocked and removed the chastity device, and waited for the eventual reaction.

The plastic bag started out ballooned in size, full of air. As the seconds ticked by the plastic bag gradually shrank, until it was finally tightly covering Brian’s nostrils. At this point Brian started jerking his head around, his penis had already been erect, and soon erupted in a mighty fountain of cum. With a big smile on his face, Allan quickly undid the Velcro lining and lifted up the plastic bag so Brian could get some air. He removed the hood from Brian’s head and removed the penis gag.

Brian also had a big smile and said, “What a way to wake up from a sleep. You always know what I need, sir.”

The two kissed and Allan reached back to get some breakfast to start feeding Brian. As he was doing so, Allan thought back on what had transpired. He had long ago found out that Brian was big time into breath control, and got turned on by having his breathing cut off. Allan enjoyed seeing this done, and never tired of watching it happen. It was dangerous, and there were a few close calls at first, before they devised the plastic bag with the Velcro. There had never been a problem since.

When Brian had his fill of food, which wasn’t much, Allan brought out a beaker for Brian to piss into. When finished, Allan also pissed into it, swirled it around to mix the two, and strapped a basin gag onto Brian, pouring the urine slowly into it for Brian to drink. This was something Brian insisted on, providing Allan’s urine was mixed in with his. It seemed to solidify their relationship in Brian’s mind. When finished, Allan got a wash rag and cleaned off Brian’s face.
“Time to get some more rest”, said Allan.

He strapped the penis gag back on and re-strapped the hood, as well as putting the plastic bag back on, but pulled down only to Brian’s nose, not covering it. Brian’s penis was still kept free to roam around outside the sleep sacks. Allan took the dirty dishes out to the kitchen, as Brian settled back for another couple of hours of rest before having his breath taken away again.

This continued into the afternoon. But Allan noticed that something was bothering Brian. Allan figured he knew what it was, figured it was time to approach the taboo subject, and figured he knew how to get Brian to finally start talking about it. After removing Brian’s hood and gag, Allan spoke.

“Brian, you’ve never told me about what was done to you when you were raised, and I thought it best not to ask you until you were ready to volunteer it. And now you’re going to be visiting your step-father again, and you’re upset about it. You can’t keep this bottled up inside of you forever. Besides, I will also be visiting, and I need to know what happened so I can be prepared.”

Brian thought about this, and decided, since they were due to be married, Allan should know what had happened. So he finally started unburdening himself about his upbringing.

“I had a wonderful childhood when my father was alive. Both my parents were very loving. I used to play with the neighbor kids, and we all had fun. The problems began when my father died. My mother was left with me to bring up, and with very little money. She had dutifully gone to church every Sunday, and had gotten to know the preacher. After Dad died, the unmarried preacher started paying her more attention, and finally they got married. I wondered how this change would affect me. I heard them discussing me one night before deciding to discuss it with me. My mother told me in his presence, ‘A son needs to learn discipline from a father.’ It was unlike her to say that. My step-father said, ‘I’ve always wanted a son to train properly.’ In retrospect, I should have realized on hearing that what was in store for me.

At that time I was a free spirit, speaking when I wanted to, doing pretty much what I wanted to do within the limits of what I knew to be right or wrong. We lived in the Tennessee hills, and my step-father believed that children should be seen and not heard. I was too uninhibited for his liking, and he believed that I needed that discipline they had both told me about. They would try to get me to speak only when spoken to, but I would talk whenever I wanted to. He would spank me, but that did no good. Exasperated, my step-father finally decided that whenever I was at home, and not eating, I was to be gagged until I learned not to talk when not asked. I hated that at first, and would immediately remove it and start talking. So to prevent that when I was gagged, he would tie my hands behind me. I was not allowed to cry lest I be further punished. I had been told that this would be until I learned not to talk out of turn, but because it was effective, it became the way I was always kept at home until time for bed, and then as well if I would rebel.

Being a preacher, my step-father wore an old-fashioned hard stand-up collar high up to his chin every day. He believed that clothes should be tight, and that one should always maintain a strict upright posture. I was required to wear tight-fitting white shirts, heavily starched, tight around the neck, with a black necktie pulled tight into my collar. My black suit pants were also likewise tight fitting. I was required to always wear this everywhere. And I was required to always be erect in my posture. I obviously could no longer do any normal kids play. Other kids were uncomfortable around me.

Every evening after dinner and after I’d done my school work, we would sit at the table and listen to sermons. We had high-backed chairs. To force me to concentrate on what was being said, my step-father would also blindfold me in addition to the gag and bound hands. He said that, of the senses, the only one which was left to me was my hearing, and this way I could concentrate on the message of the sermon. He would also tie me to the chair to make sure I didn’t leave. Sometimes, those sermons would drone on and on, and my head would start to slump forward as I’d start to fall asleep. When this would happen, my step-father would tie my neck tightly to the back of the chair. He said that it was to be a lesson to me to never fall asleep when the word of God was being spoken.

This, plus school, was my life until I started puberty. You can imagine what being treated like that did to my penis. It soon became obvious that I would get turned on by the bondage, since the tight fitting pants couldn’t conceal the obvious bulge, not to mention the occasional wetting on the front. This would enrage my step-father. He would take me down to the basement, have me strip off my clothes, tie my hands in front of me, tie a rope to this and hoist it up over the rafters until I was pulled upright, tie the other end to the wall, and tie my ankles and knees together. I was already gagged. Obviously this caused my penis to stand up further and sometimes erupt. When this would happen my step-father would beat me with a leather belt, being careful not to do so anywhere that would appear in public. After the beating he would leave me like this for a while, admonishing me to maintain a strict, upright posture. Sometimes I would be left like that overnight, the gag left in, let out only to dress in the morning and go to school.

When I’d gotten into high school, I got acquainted with a neighbor, Peter, who also got turned on by bondage. We would secretly spend some time playing with each other’s penis. Eventually the inevitable happened. We got found out by the school bully, Josh, and his pal John. They told us that unless we surrendered ourselves to them every lunch hour, they would tell our parents. We couldn’t let that happen, so we surrendered ourselves to them. They first started teasing us, playing little tricks on us. But the little tricks soon got worse, and turned into actual bullying. When we took food to school for lunch, they would take it for themselves. Sometimes they would tie us up during lunch hour. Soon they tied us up every lunch hour. At first we would plead with them to be released, but they said that decision was up to them, not us.

They would torment us at first when we were tied up. They would take off our suit coats, tie our wrists to our opposite elbows behind our backs, and put the suit coats back on over our shoulders, buttoning them to keep them on. They would undo our shirt collars and ties, put some ½ inch thick tight rubber bands at the base of our necks, and redo our shirt collars and ties over them so they wouldn’t show. They would bring out some filthy rag and put in our mouths, covering them with that flesh colored heavy-duty packing tape, wrapping it around our heads tightly a couple of times. From a distance it wouldn’t look like we were bound and gagged. The gag would prevent our crying out from some of the things they would do to us, because, being bound and gagged, they started torturing us.

This got to be a daily occurrence. Josh was clearly into this. He would sit there and watch me with his steely blue eyes and his nasty smile, as I’d squirm and yell into the gag from the pain. Sometimes Josh would bring some girls by, classmates of ours, and show off to them what he could do while he was torturing us. He would tell them that we wanted them to do this. He was so convincing that I think they believed him. It was embarrassing. He would ask them if they wanted it done to them, and occasionally one said she did. But none wanted it after the first time because Josh was too intense. Word got around, and we were shunned by our classmates. Josh said we would be severely tortured if we ever reported them to the school authorities. We were powerless to do anything about it. I started hating going to school, and I’m sure Peter felt the same. We certainly dreaded lunch hour, and while they would remove the tape and rag from our mouths before resuming class, as well as undoing the ropes, we often didn’t have a chance to remove the rubber bands from our necks until later.

Then one weekend when I was in my junior year at high school my step-father and mother had to leave Friday for a church conference, returning Saturday evening. Peter and I would have my parents’ house to ourselves. We were looking forward to having some fun. Peter had told his parents that he was going to be spending that night at my house. But Josh and John found out.

They ordered us to leave the rubber bands around our necks for the afternoon classes. They escorted us home from school, bound as they usually kept us at lunch hour, and took us down to the basement. They found the rope that my step-father would use when sometimes punishing me. After they undid the ropes they tied us up with at school, we were first made to take off our clothes. After we were naked they tied our hands behind us, palm to palm, which is very strenuous on the shoulders and brought our elbows together, which they also tied. They also tied our ankles together. Then we were both strung up as my step-father would do, except for the rope tied to the rope around our elbows, pulled up further until we stood only on our tiptoes. Our penises stood out erect. They left us like that overnight, telling us they were returning in the morning to “beat the shit out of us queers”.

I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. I was in fear of what lay ahead the next day. The torture Josh had been giving us at school had become worse than anything my step-father had done to me. Josh was getting more and more sadistic. And he always had that wicked smile when he would torture us that would freeze my spine; the worse the torture, the bigger the smile. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night. My shoulders were aching something terrible. I remember the creaking of the rope as I would shift my toes into a new position. Hearing that sound reminds me even now about that night. I started looking forward to my step-father’s return. I knew that at least we would be released when that happened.

The next day Josh and his friend brought some paddles and flexible switches cut from nearby trees. They loosened the rope keeping us up on our tiptoes, letting us down onto our feet before retying the rope. They started hitting us on our back sides, alternating between the paddles and the switches, lightly at first to test our reactions, then increasingly more heavily. After a few hours they needed to take a break for food. They had also brought along some old dried out corn cobs which they proceeded to twist up into our asses. I can still feel that rough thing. Laughing, they pulled us back up onto our tiptoes and went upstairs.

After an hour or so, they came down again. They lowered us back down. The corn cobs had done their job on our prostates, and our penises were fully erect. They first tied some string around them, and would bat them back and forth between them with their hands, like they were playing a game of table tennis. Tiring of this, they each took a position behind our back sides, acting like they were hitting a baseball with a bat, only using the paddle, Josh on me and John on Peter. Then they switched to hitting us with the switches.

After a couple of hours of this, our back sides were raw and bleeding. I started hearing sounds upstairs. At last our parents had returned. We were finally going to be let out. I heard my step-father come down the stairs, and stop and stare at what he was seeing.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Josh said, with that wicked smile of his, “We thought your son and his faggot friend needed a little lesson to teach them that the Bible says such behavior is wrong.”

“Good idea”, my step-father replied. “I’ve tried doing that, but I haven’t succeeded. I’d like you to do this every weekend until my son has learned his lesson. But you can let his friend go. His parents will have to deal with him.”

“Should I let your son down now?” Josh asked.

“No”, my step-father replied. “Leave him like this until tomorrow morning.”

With that my step-father went upstairs. Josh looked at me with a huge wicked smile on his face, and I could almost read his thoughts. I knew he was thinking about all the fun he was going to start having with me and all the misery I was going to be put through. Peter was let down, he put his clothes on, and he left. He never returned to my home. Later, after Josh and John had continued their beatings of me, I was left there alone as my step-father ordered. I cried a lot during that night, realizing what my life was soon going to be like, and realizing that my father wanted me punished severely because I was the way I was. The lunch routine at school continued for Peter and me, getting progressively worse. But from that weekend on, Josh and John would return from school with me every Friday and string me up downstairs as they did that night, torturing me in various ways until Sunday morning.

Sometimes they would begin the torture before we left school on Fridays. I had no choice but to put up with it. It was standard for them to take me home from school bound and gagged as I was during lunch hour, as well as having the dried up corn cob up my ass. My back pack would cover up my bound arms, and the rubber bands and corn cob were covered up by my clothes, so only the gag would show. On the walk home sometimes someone would get close enough to us to see that I was gagged. Josh said that we were just playing a game, or it was punishment that my step-father had ordered. Once back at the house I was immediately taken down to the basement. Several parts of it were standard – the corn cob left in, supported from the rafter by my bound arms, the gag over the filthy rag, the ropes, a couple of dozen of those thick rubber bands completely covering my neck in several layers, though sometimes I would be left in a tight hog-tie. Josh would bring my dinner down from upstairs when it was time, but would eat it himself. But my step-father insisted on adding an additional part. I was to also be blindfolded at night, and there were to be sermons broadcast for me to listen to all the time when I was not being tortured. It was hell.

They were doing it to find out whether I would repent of my “heathen sexual tendencies”. Josh would test me to find out if it was working. Of course, the only times Josh would test me would be with something touching my prostate in order to insure that I would fail the test. Summer came, and it got worse. I would only be released for meals, for washing up, and to attend Sunday church services. Josh would always escort me to and from church. My clothes hid the various devices Josh had on me.

Josh was always finding out more and more ways to torture guys. He eventually discovered tit torture, and cutting off a person’s breathing. In that out-of-the-way place, there wasn’t much in the way of bondage gear. But there were clothes pins. Needless to say, I got my full share of those, all over my body but especially on my tits (with the addition of a safety pin put through each tit), my penis and balls, and periodically, briefly on my nose. They also started using weights, as well as spikes onto my now always covered penis. And they started using matches and hot wax.

My senior year provided some relief during the week. But the walk home from school on Friday nights would have some of the summer additions, especially the clothes pins on my tits. One weekend Josh got the idea to tie my hands behind me and then pull them up as far as he could before starting to torture me. The pain in my shoulders was excruciating. Josh could see this, and I saw him get that wicked smile of his. I knew that meant he was going to do that to me from now on. The following lunch period confirmed that, as he started telling me when I was tied up that he was looking forward to weekends when he could repeat last weekend’s position. He could see my reaction to this, and started laughing. Also, holidays were coming up, and I knew what that meant.

I had put up with a lot, but that was too much. It was one thing to be put into bondage and to be tortured, but Josh was carrying things too far. Step-father was fully supportive of what he was doing, so I couldn’t get any help there. The law enforcement people were down on gays, and probably knew about and supported what was being done to me, especially since a church preacher wanted it done to his minor step-son. I figured the only option open to me was to run away. The following night in the middle of the week, when I saw that no one was following me, I hopped aboard a train and left. I haven’t been back since.

I knew that my mother would worry, so I have been writing to her periodically to let her know that I’m all right. I still love her, though she is under my step-father’s domination. I’ve been keeping her appraised of my life, including the fact that I’d found my love and that we are planning to get married. I’ve told her to be sure not to show my letters to my step-father or anyone else. But I haven’t put my address down should any of them find the letters and envelopes. But at least she knows that I plan to visit next week.

I also was able to get Peter’s address and I’ve been communicating with him as the only one there I can trust. I gave him my address so that I could hear back from him what the situation was like. He assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem for me to return for a visit, and is also expecting me next week. But I’m still dreading it.”

“Wow. I knew you’d been put through a lot, but I had no idea. You poor guy. That’s a lot for a kid to have to go through. What devilish deeds are done in the name of God.”

“At least it’s behind me, sir. I’ve never told anyone before. Now you know.”

“That’s too much for anyone to have bottled up inside of them. You should have unburdened yourself to me long ago.”

“I was afraid you would think that because of all the bondage torture I’d been put through that you wouldn’t want to do that to me. I enjoy it now, sir.”

Allan thought for a minute, and then said, “You’re right. I would have wanted to ease off on you after what you’d been through. I’m going to have to get past that now when I deal with you. Well, we’ve finished this session so it’s time for you to get some more rest.”

With that, Allan re-strapped the penis gag, re-strapped the hood, and pulled the plastic bag down almost to Brian’s nose, and left him to get some rest. Allan had a lot of thinking to do. Now he understood Brian’s extreme reluctance to visit his step-father again. He’d finally accessed that part of Brian that had been off-limits. He was now wondering if having Brian visit was the right thing for him to do. But all the arrangements had been made, and he would be going there next week. It was too late to cancel or postpone the visit. And Brian’s friend, Peter, said it was okay.

(to be continued)

(Author’s note – this fictitious story was inspired by imagining someone like Rev. Worley, the preacher who advocated death to gays in a sermon, having a gay son who is turned on by being in bondage)