My Bullies - Chapter Thirteen

Ethan’s arms burned from holding the all-fours position for so long, but when Caleb finally gave the order—“Sit up against the bed, legs wide”—he moved without hesitation. His body felt heavy, overstimulated, every muscle trembling. He shuffled backward on his knees until his back met the edge of the mattress, then slid down to sit on the floor with his spine pressed to the bedframe.

Mason produced a leather belt from the closet—simple, black, worn—and looped it loosely around Ethan’s wrists behind his back, cinching it just tight enough that he couldn’t easily pull free but not so tight it cut off circulation. The restraint made his chest thrust forward, shoulders pulled back, cock jutting obscenely upward, still leaking in slow, steady beads.

“Perfect,” Tyler said, smirking.

They arranged themselves in a loose semicircle around him. Each boy took his turn one by one, dragging a desk chair or stool over to sit directly in front of Ethan, close enough that their knees nearly brushed his spread thighs. They planted both feet—white Nike socks for Mason, Tyler, and Diego; Caleb’s bare soles for the finale—flat on the carpet on either side of Ethan’s legs, caging him in, soles inches from his leaking cock.

Mason went first.

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, staring Ethan straight in the eye. The toe of one socked foot tapped lightly against the underside of Ethan’s balls—teasing, rhythmic, never enough pressure to satisfy.

“Confess,” Mason ordered. “Something filthy you’ve never told anyone. Look at me while you say it.”

Ethan’s throat worked. His face was already flushed crimson. “I… I’ve jerked off in the school bathroom stall thinking about you pinning me against the lockers,” he whispered. “Imagining you forcing me to my knees in front of the whole team.”

Mason’s grin widened. He gathered saliva, leaned in, and spat directly into Ethan’s open mouth. The warm glob landed on his tongue; Ethan flinched but didn’t close.

“Swallow.”

Ethan did, throat clicking audibly.

Mason slapped him—light, open-handed, across the left cheek. The sting bloomed warm and fleeting.

“Good boy.”

Tyler was next. He sat even closer, one socked foot resting lightly on Ethan’s inner thigh, toes brushing the base of his cock in maddening feather-touches.

“Your turn,” Tyler said. “Dirtiest secret you’ve done. Eyes on me.”

Ethan’s voice shook. “I… last year I stole a pair of your gym shorts from the locker room. The ones you wore to practice. I… I sniffed them while I jerked off. Came in them. Then put them back.”

Tyler laughed, loud and delighted. “Fucking pervert.” He spat—thicker this time, landing half on Ethan’s tongue, half on his lower lip. “Swallow it all.”

Ethan obeyed, cheeks burning hotter.

Another light slap, this one to the right cheek.

Diego took his place without a word. His white Nike socks were pulled high; he planted them wide, toes flexing slowly against Ethan’s thighs. One foot tapped the head of Ethan’s cock—gentle, insistent, making it jump and leak more.

Diego’s dark eyes locked on Ethan’s. He didn’t speak—just raised an eyebrow. The silence was worse than words.

Ethan broke first. “I… I’ve watched your Instagram stories on a burner account. Late at night. I’ve come imagining you filming me… using me… while you stay quiet the whole time. Just watching.”

Diego gave the smallest nod. Then he spat—precise, straight into Ethan’s mouth. Ethan swallowed without being told.

The slap was softer than the others, almost tender, but it still stung.

Finally, Caleb.

He dragged the chair right up until his bare knees bracketed Ethan’s hips. His feet—warm, bare, slightly rough at the heels—planted on either side of Ethan’s spread thighs, toes curling lazily against the carpet. One bare sole brushed the underside of Ethan’s cock—slow, deliberate, dragging up the shaft in a single teasing stroke that made Ethan whimper and buck.

Caleb leaned in close, breath hot against Ethan’s ear at first, then pulled back so their eyes locked.

“Last one,” he murmured. “The real one. The one you’ve been hiding from everyone, especially yourself. Say it. Look me in the eye and tell me exactly how long you’ve wanted me to own you.”

Ethan’s chest heaved. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes—not from pain, but from the raw exposure. His cock throbbed under the bare foot’s slow, maddening pressure.

“I’ve… had a crush on you since sophomore year,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I used to stare at you in the halls, in class, at practice. I’d go home and jerk off thinking about you noticing me… cornering me… forcing me to my knees in the locker room while the others watched. I wanted you to laugh at me, call me names, use me like a toy. I wanted you to record it. I wanted you to own me. I still do. Every time you snap me, I get hard before I even open it. I’m pathetic. I’m yours.”

The room went quiet except for Ethan’s ragged breathing.

Caleb studied him for a long moment, expression unreadable.

Then he spat—slow, deliberate, a thick string that landed perfectly on Ethan’s tongue.

“Swallow.”

Ethan did.

Caleb’s hand came up—another light slap, this one lingering, thumb brushing Ethan’s stinging cheek afterward almost gently.

“Good boy,” Caleb said softly. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

He pressed his bare foot firmer against Ethan’s cock—one slow, grinding drag from base to tip—then pulled away completely.

Ethan whimpered, hips chasing the contact uselessly, wrists straining against the belt, body shaking with need.

Still no release.

The boys leaned back, watching him tremble, their laughter low and satisfied.