The Party

Part I: The Aftermath

I wince as a hand roughly grabs my left forearm and yanks it to the side, wrenching my shoulder almost out of its socket and causing the zip tie to cut more deeply into my wrist. I feel the weight of him on my chest. He's straddling me on the bed. His chest is pressed against my face. His chest hairs are coarse and scratch at my face and nose. Sweat drips off his chest and his musk climbs up my nostrils. I feel his dick pressing into my stomach. It's only semi-hard as he has just climaxed in me a few minutes ago. His fingers are working at the zip tie that binds my wrists together above my head and which are also attached to the headboard. A number of tugs ensue and I sense a kind of sawing motion. There’s an audible snap and the tension in my wrists and arms suddenly dissipate. My arms fall to my side, numb. He shifts backward, off of me. A cold object lands unexpectedly on my stomach and I emit a grunt in response to its weight.

Cringing, I hold my breath and wait for the hands to come and reposition me so that I can be assaulted again, just as they have time and time again tonight. Yet they don’t come. I wait some more. I listen hard for any sounds of movement or breathing. I hear nothing but the muffled sounds of music and conversation emanating from the party below.

Allowing myself to relax just a bit, I bring my hands to my face and push the blindfold up slightly to my forehead. I open my eyes and try to adjust to the light of the room. Turning my head left and right I see no one. The door to the room is closed. I appear to be alone. A sigh of relief escapes from my mouth.

I rub at my sore wrists. They're severely chafed and there are several wide red indentions. A couple drops of blood dot where the ties actually broke the skin. There’s the prickly pins and needles sensation as blood flow begins to return. Gradually I become aware of all the other aches and pains of my body. There doesn’t seem to be a spot on my body that isn’t aching or throbbing. My mouth is so dry! There is a burning sensation in my nose and throat. My lower back is announcing its displeasure as well, as I have been maneuvered into some quite awkward positions.

My thighs feel the worst as my legs are stretched further apart than they were ever designed to be. My ankles are still zip tied to slats on each side of the headboard. Looking down at my stomach I see what caused me to grunt. The pocketknife that was used to free my wrist restraints lies in a pool of cum. I grab it and unfold the blade. I turn and reach to cut the zip that binds my left ankle. It's just a tad out of my reach. I make another attempt, this time I grab my calf to give myself a bit more leverage. It’s just enough to allow me to reach the tie. The blade is dull and the zip tie he used is rather thick. It seems like forever before I’m able to cut through it and free my ankle.

Relief. My leg drops. It feels so much better. I repeat this process and free the other ankle. Again I feel the warmth of blood rushing back into my feet, followed again by the intense throb of pins and needles. They hurt, but at least they’re free. I rub them to get relief, however my touch induces more pain. The skin appears more raw than my wrists. The numbness begins to dissipate only to be replaced by a throbbing pain in my ass. It was more than just sore. How many dicks had been shoved in there over the past several hours? I tried to remember.

The clock on the bed stand reads 2:21. It felt later. How long have I been up here? I think back and try to comprehend what had happened. The evening had started out well. I was enjoying the night.

Matt was throwing a party to unveil his patio renovation, which was pretty spectacular. Jon and I had arrived around 9:30 with a couple 6-packs of Matt’s favorite IPA. I didn’t know any of the guys there except for Bryan and Matt. Most (well all) of them were a bit older than me, 30’s and 40's mostly, but everyone had been very friendly and some were quite attractive, (I have a soft spot for older guys). I remembered having some decent conversations and a few laughs as well. How had it devolved into this? Matt, whom I considered a friend, had not only used me, … quite roughly, but afterward had allowed some of his friends to “have a go” at me as well. This despite my many protests and tears. 11. I remember heading upstairs to relieve myself and someone saying that it was 11.

I slowly climb off the bed and walk over to the standing mirror. My reflection doesn’t surprise me. My cheeks are still very red from the slaps. There appears to be a little cum on my forehead and some caked in my hair and in my ear. A large bruise..hickey? seems to be forming at the base of my neck, which also bears marks from the choking. Definitely some pretty intense bite marks surround my nipples. The puddles of cum on my stomach are now migrating down into my pubes. Some, but not all of this is mine of course, (I feel ashamed and humiliated, because I had enjoyed some of the abuse). I turn to the side to have a look at my back. A few bright red lines streak across my lower back and butt where Matt had whipped me with his belt, (punishment for having been a “tease” to him for so long and for my attempt to escape). I gingerly pull apart my sore asscheeks which releases a large glob of cum, some of which falls to the floor. The rest begins to run down my legs, joining that which had previously seeped out and is streaked down my inner thighs.

I look around for something to clean myself up with. There’s nothing handy. I pick one of my socks up off the floor. It's nasty. Apparently others had used it to clean up with. I wipe myself up as best I can.

I am exhausted, angry and still a little scared. I half expect the door to open up again and another group of men to appear. I need to get out of this place. I go to gather my clothes. My boxers lie on the bed shredded, pieces of which had been used both to blindfold and gag me. ( I have a flashback to one guy stuffing my mouth with them… telling me to “Shut the fuck up” as my cries were ruining his experience.

A dozen or so (mostly used) zip ties lay scattered on the bed. Long, thick, industrial ties, I can’t recall ever seeing ones this size. The sight of them makes me feel the sting in my wrists and ankles again. The other sock lies next to a pump bottle of Astroglide, a glob of which dangles from its spout. A bottle of poppers lies on its side, its contents apparently leaked out, leaving a round wet spot on the bedspread.

The sight of this prompts another flashback… to that fucking idiot who wanted me to take a whiff of the poppers. I was on my back and in his hurry he had tilted the bottle too far. Instead of breathing in the fumes, a stream of liquid accidently poured out, just as I inhaled. The liquid ran down my nose and throat. A horrible, fierce burning filled my nostril and throat. I gagged, sputtered, and flailed about, which elicited another hard slap to the side of my head. There was laughter from the room, and a sort of apology. Two seconds later, still gagging, he jammed his hard cock roughly up my tunnel.

I collect the rest of my clothes, but they are soiled and very wrinkled. I smell them. They smell of sex. Everything… shirt, shorts, tattered boxers had been used as cum rags. Wet spots adorn it all. I really don’t want to put them back on, but I really don’t have a choice. I leave my nasty socks and tattered boxers on the floor. I don what is left, my shorts, shirt and sneakers. I look in the mirror and try to smooth out the wrinkles and fix my hair. The wet spots are very noticable and everywhere. I look like white trash, though I guess at this point I am. I want to sob, but I know it would accomplish nothing.

Time to get out of here. I need to go down, find Jon and leave. He is going to be so angry with me. None of this is my fault, but still I knew it would be over between us. He wouldn't understand the circumstances and would place the entire blame on me. He’s a stubborn man and likes to stew over things. Jon had made it absolutely clear that my ass was his alone. No exceptions. Until tonight he's the only one who’s ever fucked me. My first and only.

Jon had cruelly told me once that he could easily find some other twink to fuck. It was said in the heat of the moment, but that comment upset and hurt me. First because I’m 20, so NOT a twink. Second, because we had also known each other for so long… over 3 years. He said we weren't boyfriends, yet we did a lot together.. camp, ski, sports, hang. Fucking was just a part of it. I was pretty sure that I was the only one he was screwing, so I felt that we were a couple, despite his saying we weren't.

I wonder if he is aware of what happened up here. Is he even still here? I was gone for so long. I begin to resent that he didn’t look for me… rescue me. Or did he find me? Perhaps he found me here and got disgusted. Maybe he joined in and used my ass too. I don’t think so, but I was blindfolded several times. I’m sure though that he would have said something nasty and personal so that Iwould know it was him. They all had said some pretty nasty, vile things to me as they emptied their balls in and on me.

I open the bedroom door and head down the hall. I pass the bathroom on the right where an older gray haired guy is exiting. He looks me up and down in a very obvious way, and makes a scornful face. “So you’re the one,” he says in a snarky tone. “Have a good time in there did you? I’d clean up a bit more if I were you. You look like shit.”

I ignore his rudeness and start down the stairs, but not before hearing him mutter to himself: “Why are the blond ones always such sluts?”

I reach the bottom of the stairs and look around. There’s still quite a few men here. The music is still pumping, lots of conversations, laughter. It is a good party, or was… until…

I perceive a change in the atmosphere as I wander through the rooms in search of Jon. A hush ensues as I hunt around for him. It feels like a million eyes upon me and I hear murmurs. Out of the corner of my eye I see 3 guys repeatedly looking down at a phone and then up at me. One points. I get paranoid. Are there pictures/videos of me being plundered?

I pass through the patio doors and walk towards the pool. Finally I see Jon, he’s passed out on a piece of patio furniture. I go over and shake him. He stirs and mumbles. I smell alcohol on him. This is surprising, not that he has been drinking, but that he seems to be passed out drunk. Jon’s not a big drinker. I don't ever recall him over imbibing. I shake him again and try to rouse him. He’s really out.

I panic. How am I going to get out of here? I think about Uber. However Matt’s place is way outside of town, far from my apartment. It’d cost at least $50, probably more. I’m already worried about paying for next month’s rent. I think about taking Jon's car. I could take his keys and leave him a text that I would come back and pick him up in the morning. He’d be pissed, but at this point I don't care. It's over anyway.

I see another guy across the way. He’s leaning against the outdoor pizza oven and looks at me knowingly. Realizing that he has caught my eye, he grabs his crotch and shakes it hard. He pumps his hips while doing this. Overtly he darts his tongue out of his mouth, circling his lips several times with it. Although I can't hear him, I am able to read his lips… “Wanna fuck… boy?”

Fuck!! How many people know? He starts walking in my direction. He's a big guy. A wave of fear envelops me. I turn and walk back towards the house as fast as I can.