My Bullies - Chapter Fourteen

Ethan remained slumped against the bedframe, wrists still loosely cinched behind his back by the belt, legs forced wide apart, every inch of him exposed and trembling. His face burned from the slaps, streaked with drying spit and tears, lips swollen and tasting of their collective saliva. His cock stood painfully rigid between his thighs—head flushed dark purple, veins bulging, a constant glistening thread of pre-cum stretching downward before breaking and dripping onto the carpet. The denial had turned the ache into something sharp and relentless; he could feel his pulse throbbing in it with every heartbeat.

Caleb crouched directly in front of him again, barefoot soles planted wide on the carpet, forearms braced on his knees so their faces were almost level. The other three watched from their spots on the bed and chair—silent now, the air thick with anticipation.

“I’m giving you a choice, princess,” Caleb said, voice low and calm, like he was offering something ordinary. “You’ve been good tonight. Took it all. Begged like you meant it. So here’s how this ends.”

Ethan’s breath caught. He couldn’t look away from Caleb’s eyes.

“Option one,” Caleb continued, “we cut the belt, let you pull your clothes on, and you walk out of here exactly like this—cock hard, balls full, leaking all the way home. No touching yourself. Not in the car. Not when you get to your room. Not tomorrow. Not until we text you permission. You keep your hands off that desperate little dick, or we’ll know. And you know what happens if we find out you cheated.”

The thought alone made Ethan’s stomach clench—driving home with his erection straining against denim, lying in bed throbbing through the night, waking up still denied. It was torture he could already feel in his bones.

“Option two,” Caleb said, leaning in closer, breath warm against Ethan’s cheek, “you give us the green light to use some of the clips. The begging. The part where you call yourself our whore. We post them. Burner Twitter account. No names. No faces that can be traced back to you—we crop carefully. Just your body, your voice, your shame for strangers to find and jerk off to.”

Mason shifted on the bed, letting out a low whistle. Tyler’s grin widened. Diego’s thumb rested lightly on his phone screen.

Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard it hurt.

“Only strangers?” he managed, voice barely above a whisper.

Caleb nodded once. “Burner. No tags. No location. We don’t link it to you. But once it’s up, it’s out there. Public. Anyone could stumble on it. And you’ll know it exists. Every time you open the app, you’ll wonder who’s seen it. Who’s liked it. Who’s saved it. Who’s coming to the sound of you crying to cum.”

Ethan’s cock jerked visibly at the words—another thick bead of pre-cum welling up and sliding down the shaft. Shame flooded him, hot and dizzying.

The room stayed silent except for his ragged breathing.

Finally, he spoke, voice small and shaking.

“…Post it,” he said. “On the burner. So only strangers see.”

Caleb’s smile spread slow and satisfied.

“Good boy.”

He reached behind Ethan, unbuckled the belt with a quiet click, and let it fall away. Ethan’s arms dropped limply to his sides; pins and needles rushed through them as blood returned.

Mason and Tyler exchanged glances. Diego opened a fresh burner account on his phone—blank profile, generic handle, no bio. They huddled briefly, selecting the clearest moments: Ethan’s lips parted in desperate pleas, body arched and leaking, voice cracking on “please, sir… I’m your whore… let me cum.” Faces cropped just above the mouth. Audio untouched.

Caleb hit post.

The first clip went live.

Ethan watched the view count climb on the screen—7… 19… 41… ticking upward in real time.

His cock throbbed harder, painfully, betrayingly.

Caleb pocketed the phone.