I answered a knock on the cellar door to see little Jimmy O’Neil standing there. Jimmy was a kid from the neighborhood that I’d spent a good deal of my childhood tormenting. He was sixteen, a pimply little tenth-grader. I used to go up to him and say, “Hey Sally, how about a friendly grapple?” Then I would put him on the ground. With my knees on his shoulders I would pull his nose and call him “Sally.”
It was odd for him to show up at my house. He walked into my basement with an annoying swagger. He was sixteen years old, but looked much younger. When he took off his jacket I noticed something odd about him. He was wearing a tight tank-top, sporting what appeared to be some new-found muscles. His shoulders and arms were developed, veined and ropy. It didn’t seem to fit with his boyish looks.
He came up to me and said, “Hey Sally, how about a friendly grapple.”
Within seconds I was on the floor with Jimmy on top of me, punishing me with a fierce headlock. It was like being caught in a vice with screaming pressure. I groaned and he said, “Aw, poor Sally.”
It was hopeless; I could not move. Again and again this kid released me only to take me down once more with some cleverly designed move. My arms turned into jelly as he put me through a humiliating wrestling clinic. It was as if he wanted to show off his vast array of punishing wrestling holds. There was a head-scissors, various headlocks and a full nelson that was so tight that I said, “Please Jimmy, that’s enough.”
He said, “What’s that? Not tight enough?” and he cranked up the pressure. He proceeded to toss me around the floor like I was a rag doll.
He had essentially made me his prisoner. Helpless, entwined in his powerful arms and legs, a strange feeling swept over me. A warm glow moved through my groin as I struggled like a fly caught in a web. It’s an odd feeling to be at the mercy of another person like this. And I admit to experiencing a strange comfort in knowing that, as a captive, there were no choices to make, no decisions to ponder. One merely waits for what will happen next, for whatever one’s captor wants to do.
At one point I thought, if this is payback for a few pulled noses, it’s way over the top.
At a certain point I no longer had the strength to lift my arms, or even to moan over my pain. His strategy was to finish me off with a sleeper hold so I was on my knees with Jimmy behind me. My head and throat were wedged between arms as hard as two-by-fours. If my body was limp, my mind was racing, fearful of an injury.
As if reading my mind he said, “Don’t worry Sally. I won’t hurt you real bad.”
Then I heard him say, “Sweet dreams Sally.”
The last thing I remembered was the rich, heavenly scent of sweat drifting up into my nose from his moist muscles. It was a sweet, exotic aroma. I suppose there are worse ways to pass out.
When I woke up on the floor I felt like a squashed bug. I felt subhuman because, at the age of twenty, a grown man six feet tall, I had been reduced to the status of an insect by a pimply-faced sixteen year old boy. From the floor I saw Jimmy seated on the edge of a stool beneath a bare light bulb. He was bathed in an eerie golden light. His perspiring arms glistened in the glow.
I said, “What happened?”
He said, “I gave you a little nap.”
I managed to get up onto my knees. My sense of humiliation was so deep, so overwhelming that I was consumed by it. I knew it was a humiliation to be carried for a lifetime. I knew I would never shake it. I saw no choice but to surrender to it, to embrace it, to make it my own. Somehow, at that moment, I knew that I was about to grovel before little Jimmy, and that when I began groveling it would go on for a long time.
“I remember now,” I said. “Wow, you really worked me over.”
He said, “Believe me, it didn’t take much effort.”
“I know that. Jesus Jimmy I’m so jealous. When did you get so strong?”
He extended his dramatic arms in order to admire them. “Listen,” he said, “I went easy on you.”
“I know you did,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Man,” he said, “I coulda just ended you.”
“I know. I owe you for that. Thanks.”
I managed to get onto my feet, massaging my painful neck. I said, “My God Jimmy, you sure know a lot of holds. You just mopped the floor with me. You were amazing.”
I pulled the sleeve of my tee shirt up over my shoulder and showed him my pale, skinny arm. “Look at this,” I said. “I could never do anything like that.”
He took a deep breath, expanding his chest. He cocked and tightened the cables in his arms. I hastened forward and took his upper arm in both hands. He gave me the royal flex. It was thick, moist, rock hard. It felt as if there steel snakes beneath the skin.
Stroking his muscles I said, “My god Jimmy this explains everything.” I realized that an urgent erection was pounding in my jeans.
He suddenly shook me off and said, “Lemme go man. I’ll put you back in that sleeper in about two seconds.”
I put my hands up and backed away quickly saying, “No no no… please.”
He laughed. But of course I was being untruthful. I wanted to be back in that sleeper hold inhaling his moist vapors. I wanted him to call me Sally as he punished me.
“Listen,” he said. “I didn’t come here just to kick your ass, although I enjoyed it. And I didn’t come here just to have you suck my cock which of course you will.”
“Of course,” I said.
“I came here to tell you that you aren’t going out with Shelly any more. I am.”
I said, “That works for me.”
“Man,” he said, “when I fucked her last night she squealed like a pig.”
“That’s so cool.”
My groveling had clearly become a runaway train.
“You have know way of knowing this,” he said, “but she’s a first class squirt machine. She comes like Old Faithful.”
“That’s really hot,” I said. Indeed, my hard-on was driving me crazy.
He was admiring his body again so I said, “Just look at you. You’re a machine, a mean machine. It was the strangest feeling Jimmy. I couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t lift a finger. I couldn’t even talk. And you kept squeezing, tighter and tighter. You made me feel so small.”
“Sally,” he said, “You’re strong like a girl. Shelly can take you. Yeah, she told me about that time in her back yard. She put you in a choke hold and made you beg.”
“I did beg.”
“She said you liked it.”
“Yeah, but she’s very strong. And she was hurting me Jimmy.”
He slipped off the stool and said, “Oooh, she was hurting me Jimmy.”
When he mocked me I almost came. I was wet down there. I could feel my leaking pre-cum.
He came toward me and said, “Assume the position Sally.”
I dropped to my knees. He took a long time to unbutton and drop his jeans. He made a rather dramatic show of it. I think he was teasing me. He had a long thick cock even in its soft state. He proceeded to give me instructions. I was grateful for that because this was my first time.
He told me to start kissing his cock while tickling his hole with the tip of my finger. When I looked up our eyes met. He was looking at me with a triumphant sneer. It was all there in his eyes; I belonged to him, to little Jimmy O’Neil. I was his bitch. I had been chosen. He had come here to claim me and did so effortlessly. He puffed out his chest and I felt myself shrink. I felt myself slither under a rock. But It was exciting. This was my new station in life and I was just learning the ropes.
It was a treat to feel him grow hard against my lips. A little whimper of pleasure escaped from me and he laughed. When he was fully erect he stepped back and said, “What do you think?”
“Jimmy,” I said, “it’s beautiful.”
“I know it is. Shelly says that all the time.”
Indeed his cock was an impressive specimen. I did not stop to wonder how a small guy like Jimmy ended up with such big dick. I merely admired it. It was long and very thick, circumcised, with a smooth pink shaft and an enormous red head that gleamed like a beacon. But it was the many thick blue veins that were most impressive. He had no pubic hair. But at the age of sixteen he must have had pubes. I wondered if he shaved for his encounter with me. Or did Shelly shave him last night before fucking him, and squealing, and squirting? When he stepped forward I went back to work.
When my kisses reached a wild, feverish pace he moved me along to other tasks. Licking and sucking his balls one at a time, running my tongue up and down that massive shaft. I took this opportunity to push the tip of my tongue into one of those pounding blue veins. With my eyes closed I heard his pulse beating in my head. I thought, it’s little Jimmy, it’s little Jimmy.
With his warm cock in my mouth he had me polish the swollen red dome. I actually felt the head swell up in my mouth. It was thrilling. I thought, “I did that.” For a very long time I swirled my tongue all over it
While stroking his balls he kept saying, “Softer Sally, softer. Shelly’s fingers are like feathers.”
I continued my furious tongue-swirling. I thought I felt his body stiffen just as a flood of warm wet syrup flooded into my mouth. My instructions were to swallow every drop. I thought I performed the task admirably but when I looked up he was glaring at the floor. Indeed a large dollop of cum had hit the rug. I quickly bent over and gobbled it up, scouring the carpet with my tongue. My final job was to clean him up with my lips and tongue, a job no doubt made easier because of the close shave around the base of his cock. I could feel the little bristles with the tip of my tongue.
I looked up at him for some sign of approval but he told me that I had a long way to go if I wanted to match the skills of my former girlfriend. I promised that I would improve if only given another chance. He made a long, dramatic show of putting his meat away. It was clearly a difficult task because he remained very large and hard even after ejaculating. As he did this he looked down at it with obvious pride and admiration. He actually smiled at it.
Still on my knees, I watched as he held it in his two hands. It was so big that it made his hands look very small. I found it amazing that this immense red serpent had actually been inside me, discharging its hot venom. And now it was cradled in the small powerful hands that had thoroughly vanquished me, robbed me of my identity, changed me into a being called Sally.
When he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, I followed. At the door I asked him for a re-match. I said, “Maybe I won’t be such a pushover the next time.”
He said, “That can be arranged.”
“Tomorrow Jimmy? Please?”
“We’ll see.”
When he flicked his jacket up over his shoulder a hard white round ball swelled up in his arm, the emblem of our relationship. He saw me looking and said, “All right, kiss it.”
I kissed that iron bicep and he left.
I wasted little time getting to the couch. I got there with my pants and underpants strewn on the floor. It was just me and my erection, just the two of us at last. My mind was swimming with little Jimmy O’Neil. I stroked myself slowly because I wanted this one to last. I wanted to savor my hot new experience. But that was not to be. I immediately found myself, in my mind’s eye, trapped in one of Jimmy’s cruel muscular devices. Oh to be helpless and squeezed into oblivion! But it was the sweat that got me. When I remembered the thick sweet smell of his boy-sweat, I exploded, moaning as I came.
I lay there a long time wondering if Jimmy would return the following day. I desperately wanted him to take me down to the floor and punish me. I wanted him to make me his prisoner. And I wanted to be worthy of that hot crimson club between his legs, that huge hunk of hard brick-flesh adorned with its massive one-eyed mushroom that spewed into me its fecund sweets. And I wanted to be the better practitioner, to dwarf Shelly with my superior dick-skills. I wanted to be cocksucker-in-chief. I wanted it badly.
But more than anything, I wanted him to call me “Sally.”
