(First Edition Posted May, 2007)

Walk in Lies

Something Nasty

The Man is unimpressed by either of their latest outfits. Mica is dressed in trendy joggers with a too tight cotton pullover. Finn stands against the teenager’s hip in ragged sweats and a capacious Hello Kitty T-shirt from Alea’s bedroom. The Man seems displeased with them, or he is merely preoccupied with some thought.  The Man sniffs.

If the Trick had picked them up at the Sykes’ door, he might have duplicated Edan’s impulse and told the boy’s to change. The Man’s house beggars belief. Edan’s ostentatious family home did not prepare Mica for the old wealth patina of the Man’s town house. The boys are impoverished in most homes. In the Man’s home, they are indigent street people who took a wrong turn. The Uber has departed, and a shopping trip to the mall would hardly do.

“I’m Mica, this is Finn.” Mica pushes his protégés a step forward. Finn is near catatonic at the perfection of the town house foyer. The Trick turns his inscrutable face on Mica, deconstructing the Whore-slut’s character, leaving Mica feeling naked and inadequate. “I … I mean, we can do whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” the Man responds. “Come,” the Trick turns on his heal and leads them up the stairs and through the town house.

“This is so freaking nice!” Little-bitch whispers to Bitch-boy. “Is it real?” Finn’s eyes are popping out and he has forgotten that what is real is his impending violation by the Man. Bitch-boy frowns and puts a finger to his lips. The Man is the Deacon’s friend, silence seems required here too.

The Man leads them to a bedroom. “He is the boy, the Man informs Mica, without acknowledging Finn’s presence. “You are the brother,” Mica learns. I am the man.”

Finn shifts perceptibly closer to Mica’s hip. Most eleven-year olds are out and about with friends, and Finn would join them if he could. He is a painfully shy boy and careful with his movements. Finn only moves in safe spaces where the boys are younger, solitary creatures like himself. The man’s palatial home is not a safe place. In this strangeness, all Finn has is Mica, and the teenager is Cain’s compliant boy-hustler. That is hardly promising to Little-bitch, but Burley’s-bitch knows how this world works better than Finn does. The boy needs the teen beside him for protection.

“The boy is playing on the floor.”

There is a scattering of mint Teenage Ninja Turtle action figures and an unfamiliar vehicle on the carpet. Finn is still glued to Mica who is trying to see the murky path ahead. Alea said he is only there to start the little pussy fucking. The Man has been devouring Mica where he stands, he has hardly noticed Finn’s presence. “Go on, Finn.” Without thinking about it, Mica squeezes a small tense butt cheek reassuringly.

“Please don’t talk.” This is very soft. A voice accustomed to being listened to and obeyed. He sounds like Mica’s History Teacher. That teacher was colourless and safe, this man is paying for a prepubescent boy and a high school sophomore. This will hardly be safe.

Finn glances at Mica and then investigates the Turtles. The man simply watches Finn silently. Mica watches as well. In this strange setting, the little Sykes boy seems almost normal. Finn is exploring the way the action figures articulate. Soft plastic weapons fit into the preformed hands.

Finn is a tween who should be glued to his phone or game. He sits on one haunch resting his chin on a knee. This is the boy who masturbates his pet dog and helps the animal copulate into a human being. Playing with the moulded action figures, Mica sees the hidden boy Finn’s friend Walter probably sees. The man walks around Finn, examining the slender frame and shaggy mop that covers Finn’s eyes and brushes his thin shoulders. The Man is content just to let Finn play for a long time.

“The brother comes behind the boy and tickles his sides before sitting with the toys.”

The action recalls the boy’s intimacy in the Sykes’ bathroom. Finn hands Mica a Donatello and watches as Mica fits it in the toy vehicle. Little-bitch understands that some figures are good guys and some are bad guys. Finn has one of each. He does not know what to do with them.

The two whores play with the toys in near silence. Mica’s Donatello spars with Finn’s Michelangelo. Ha! Ha! Pow! Chak, foosh! Finn breathes this out so only Mica can hear it. Their eyes are on the figures.

“The brother kisses the boy on the lips.” Mica recalls his first kiss with Edan. He puts that into this boy’s face. Finn’s arms come up to respond to him. “The boy does nothing.” Their narrator adds quickly. Finn drops his arms. Finn offers his tongue to Mica, but Mica guesses his kiss should be more chaste. “The brother pushes the bangs off the boy’s forehead and holds them back.”

The man wants to see Finn’s eyes. “Stay still please.”

Two boy-hustlers on a carpet, frozen inches from each other's lips. It is a very odd game, Mica thinks. The Man just stares at two boy’s staring. “Yes, that’s it.” He seems to regret the wasted words.

“Leave the toys and follow me.” They are led to a tiled bathroom. “The boy bathes himself.”

Mica and the Man stand watching as Finn prepares the bath water. This opulence is nothing like the Sykes family bathroom or Mica’s house. Neither boy-hustler has seen the like.

While the tub fills, Finn disrobes. Eyes follow his naked body as he folds his clothing on the toilet seat. “The boy touches himself as he waits for the water to fill.” Finn decides to perch on the tub rim facing directly at the Man. Finn had an unkempt mop of hair before Cain forced Mica into prostitution. Since then, Alea has been growing it to match Mica’s long flow. He drops his chin and fingers the short length between his thin thighs. The water runs in the heavy silence.

Mica considers the Man as he stands discretely ready to do whatever he is asked to do. The Trick is salt-and-pepper old, ramrod proper. The Soldier, Mica experiments. The Trick identified himself as “the Man”, so that will stay his name. Bitch-boy does not do names. Whore-slut will gush or wimpier a Trick’s name if he is asked to. Fuck me Desmond! Burley’s-bitch won’t name the Tricks. Except for Edan, Edan keeps his name. Mica is not sure if the Man is a soldier. He is ramrod straight and his body is waiting for a uniform.

When Finn is sitting in the claw foot tub, the man moves behind Mica. Fingers pull the light top over Mica’s head. There is no acknowledgement of his fading bruises. From where they stand, both voyeurs can see the undernourished torso splashing in the tub. The man wants to feel Mica’s damp armpit as he manipulates Mica’s prick through the warn fabric of his old pants.

Mica is erect and Finn keeps washing himself. This goes on interminably. Mica thinks he is supposed to ejaculate for the man. His hip thrusts move the scene along. Mica understands the man is acting out some memory, some dream, or fantasy. That is probably what boy-hustlers are to all these Tricks.

“The brother bathes the boy.” Before the man prods his forward, he whispers, “Don’t kiss.” In Mica’s ear.

This will be slow and hardly unfamiliar between the boy-hustlers. Alea, Vikki, the man, they have audiences. They play the scene, conscious of the new audience and sensitive to each other’s touch. Finn is quite clean, but Mica starts from the beginning. “Stand up!” Mica breathes softly.

“The brother uses the stiff brush everywhere.” The Man is content to watch. The bristles stroke gently over Finn’s everywhere. Mica might be currying his poney, brushing everything into a sheen. He starts all over again. The hair and back, stiff pig’s bristle abrading the nipples and neck. The bristles sweep through the small boner and tug at the tender scrotum. Finn looks away towards the Italian marble, but a hand flutters toward Mica as the older hustler skins back his foreskin to soap the glans.

The Man seems to have been looking in the mirror. The room is silent, except for the sound of bath water and the light scrape of washerwoman brush. The washing just goes on. The boy touching continues.

The man finally comes up behind Mica again. Mica is wondering if Finn is the man, or if the Man is Mica. There are no clues. Mica is a secret pervert, or he has simply been assimilated by the Sykes children’s endless promiscuity. Bitch-boy is still erect in his joggers. Clear, viscous fluid has secreted from his aroused prick. The man looks at Finn from over Mica’s shoulder. The man’s boner is hard against Mica. The man masturbates the Whore-slut to a quick orgasm that stains Mica’s joggers.

The man guides Mica’s hand to Finn’s small boner. Paired, they pet the prick. Once Mica understands what he is supposed to do, the man’s hand falls away. The man holds Mica’s chest lightly so he can feel the orgasmic heart beat until the masturbation ends.

“The brother dries the boy.” This too, is a sensuous ritual. Everything is treacle-slow, honey-thick sensual connection. Mica pleasures Finn with the Graccioza Egoist towel, endlessly towelling Little-bitch. This is Bitch-boy taking care of Little-bitch in paradise. Finn dresses sadly.

They eat tomato soup in the kitchen while the man vanishes for half an hour. “Are we going to fuck?” Finn asks in a hushed voice. Mica shrugs his bare shoulders. This role playing has been very easy. “I came in the bathtub, but I didn’t let him know.” Big saucer eyes in a thin face. Mica nods. “Will Alea be mad if he doesn’t fuck me?”

“She has her money. She doesn’t care as long as I get you back in one piece.”

“Is this what you expected, Mica?” Finn knows he is not supposed to eat too much, but dear God, the food is so good. “The bread is so fucking good.” Little-bitch groans.

“Not too much,” Bitch-boy warns. “You never know exactly what to expect. You get to know the types, eventually. This guy needs control. We have to do whatever he wants us to do. Do you understand?” Finn nods his head. Mica’s warning is odd. Of course, Finn will do whatever he is told to do. He forgets sometimes, and then people hurt him so he won’t forget again.

Mica shivers as he contemplates the unknown. He can thank Cain for this at least. Cain forces him into this wonderful-frightening unknown. Mica is Bitch-boy, whore-slutting his way through the city with capricious Tricks. I am who I am. I’m not going to fall. “The food is good.” Mica agrees.

“The boy is sleeping in the bed.” Finn hops into the bed wearing only Vikki’s panties. The bedroom is very cosy and filled with toys from two generation’s past. Finn sees a Nintendo much like the one he plays. The stack of games is tempting him. Does Mica have a TV in his room too?

“The brother goes to the bed to wake the boy up.” Finn makes some funny snoring noises. “No noise please!” The sudden tension in the voice scares Finn. He lies quite still as the man masturbates Mica’s boner back to life. Finn studies the subtle ways Burley’s-bitch encourages-praises the Man. “The boy sits up as the brother sits down.”

“The brother opens his pants to show the boy something nasty.”

Something nasty, Mica’s instincts make him wary of what comes next. The Man’s tension has been building since he stood gazing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. There could be violence. However, this is what the two whores came for.

Finn sits waiting for his next instructions. He is still boy enough to build a small bulge in Vikki’s elastic bikini panties. Something nasty, is Mica’s prick. A dewdrop bubbles up through Mica’s urethra and hangs on his frenulum. Alea would say something like, suck bitch-boy’s dick at this point.

“The boy starts stroking the nasty thing.”

Finn can do this. This is the familiar, and Finn is desperate for familiar things. Uncertainty means mistakes and then Finn will make Alea and Vikki angry. His sisters will ask Cain to take him to the basement. Mica was really hurt by Cain in the basement. Finn can be a fuck-toy for the strange man. He is safer being a Little-bitch while Bitch-boy is near, than being sent to the basement.

Finn manipulates Mica’s prick with his hands. The flooded veins are so familiar now. Finn is learning which rubs and pinches pleasure Burley’s-bitch-prick. Boy’s like Cain and Mica have their own way of skittering about before their pricks erupt onto Little-bitches like Finn. Finn smirks to himself, it does not go unnoticed by his partner. Mica’s prick is jumpy like Burley.

“The brother brushes the boy’s hair back so he can see the boy’s eyes.” It is a gentle gesture from a hand that could slap or punch him hard, but Bitch-boy never will. Finn tosses his hair back, wishing he could put it into a ponytail like Mica’s. The two hustlers eyes meet, then Finn turns his eyes toward the man.

The man leans against the bedroom door, hugging himself. He seems to look right through Finn. That makes Finn shiver. Finn is nothing to his father and Cain. Finn is an object that men pick up and put down. He looks back at Mica. The pair on the bed are bitches. Mica’s body is weak like Finn’s. Mica will go home to his home, maybe see friends. Finn will play with his school friends, but they are bitches in the Sykes’ house and here on this date.  

Finn knows how to manipulate the familiar five-inch prick. He remembers its comfortable fit in his enveloping rectum. Finn tries to be sensitive to the pulse at his fingertips and Mica’s breath so close to his. He watches Mica’s gut contract, just past the straining prick.

There has always been a hierarchy in the Sykes’ house. Finn’s terrifying father, of course, then monstrous Cain, angry Alea and quiet Vikki. Perhaps his worn out mother fits in there somewhere. Sometimes they press Finn, usually not.

Finn is next in the family hierarchy, then Burley, and finally Burley’s-bitch. It is important that everyone knows their place. If they don’t, then someone reminds them, like Vikki, or Alea, or Cain, or Finn’s father. Finn does not want to think about his father noticing him. Mexico is a good place for Willis Sykes. All the Sykes children agree on that.

“Aha!” Mica catches Mica’s exclamation just in time. Bitch-boy’s peak is imminent. Finn continues with a determined concentration.

“What is going on here boys?” The voice is angry and completely unexpected after all the quiet. The only sound was the boy’s breathing, and the paper scratch of Finn’s palms stroking Mica’s prick. “Put that nasty thing away at once, you filthy boy.”

Mica fumbles to contain his proud prick. He stands beside the bed arranging himself. This is rather like how Mica anticipates his own father’s reaction. Mica has been violating his earthly temple with impure thoughts for three or four years now. His earthly temple is pretty much rubble after all the quakes it has suffered. When Mica’s father learns his only son is gay, there will be more than earthquakes. The Man’s anger and contempt seem real enough. Finn has shrunk into himself on the bed. He hugs his knees, all wide eyed.

The man raises a trembling hand. There will be a backhand blow that will send Mica across the room. The open palm trembles there ready to deliver. “You bring this base perversion into my house. What? You would defile your own brother with your unnatural lusts?” The man threatens the blow, then balks. “You utter disappointment.” Yes, this is Mica’s father, Henry Laar. It is hard to remember this is the man’s fantasy. “You will follow me, sir.” The man pauses in his turn. He does not look at Finn. “The boy will witness the consequences of your filthy attempts at degradation.”

Consequences, how utterly predictable, Mica concludes. The nearly naked Finn walks beside him to the consequences. Finn’s hand runs across Mica’s back briefly, then fingers hook into the elastic waist. Finn’s-bitch will guard him through what comes next.

The procession ends downstairs in a library. Books on books on books, like no one collects in Mica and Finn’s house. There is a bare library table centered squarely in the room. Finn looks around curiously, but Mica’s eyes are on the Man.

“You sir, will present yourself!”

Mica and Finn look at each other. Alea would be more specific. Cain would not waste words on either of his slut-boys. “The brother will stand at the table with his pants and underwear removed. The boy will stand beside him.”

The man has a Stripwell Standard. 31 inches long and a third of an inch thick, it makes a sharp crack when it hits the library table. “You will present yourself here, you repugnant abomination!”

Well, this is why it did not matter that I was still covered in bruises, Mica realizes. He cannot look at Finn. This is just what he has come to since the high school bathroom. Mica drops his joggers and underwear. Some signal from the Man prompts Mica to pick the clothing up and fold it neatly on a nearby chair. He shuffles to the table, his small companion strokes his naked ass cheeks possessively.

“The boy takes off his panties and stands here where he can learn from this.” The man points with the wicked cane. “I said present yourself sir!” The man uses the tip of his cane on Mica’s shoulder blade to guide him over the table. The heavy maple seems designed for this. The edge is curved and Mica can stretch his arms across. “We will maintain civility between us. A civility you have besmirched by your carnal obscenity with the boy. You will say thank you father, I understand.”

Mica’s forehead is pressed firmly into the tabletop. He is waiting for the inevitable pain. He cannot decide if this is fair or not. He sells his body now. All the names the Sykes children use for him apply. Even little Finn, his new partner calls him Bitch-boy or Burley’s-bitch. Mica knows the hierarchy and where he is supposed to be. If it is not fair, it hardly matters.

Then there is, the complete submission to another’s will. I will be what I will be, Bitch-boy reminds himself. His boner is pressed between the Maple and his fluttery-flesh. Mica trusts the Man. He cannot trust Cain’s insane violence in the basement, but the Man controls the Bitch-boy with his stern voice and steady cane. Mica’s prick is hard, waiting for the first impact, wondering how long he will be beaten.

Whick-Crack. His ass cheeks absorb the first strike. A geometric imprint overlays the random fading bruises Cain laid down. The cane’s heat brands his bare flesh. “Thank you, I understand.”

Whick-Crack. His ass cheeks absorb the second strike. The cane’s heat brands his bare flesh. “Thank you, I understand.” Oh God, the jolts of pain fibrillate his vulnerable body. It radiates like the lava-glow of a meteor impact. The cane is exact.

Whick-Crack. His ass cheeks absorb the third strike. The cane’s heat brands his bare flesh. “Thank you, I understand.”

Mica presses his head into the table. Canes can produce some

of the strongest impacts of all. The whick of a quick-moving cane

is distinctive. Not everyone can handle the intensely focused pain

canes can produce, but those who can tend to greatly enjoy it.

Mica wants to squirm, but this is the sweet seduction of Alea’s bed-jail. Go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect $100, and if he sobs between the blows, or leaks seminal fluid on the table just a little, it does not matter. Whick-Crack. His ass cheeks absorb the fourth strike. The cane’s heat brands his bare flesh. “Thank you, I understand.” So this goes on like a metronome. The pain lingers, and with it a certain form of pleasure radiates throughout Mica’s body.

Finn flinches every time. Whick-Crack. The boy-hustler’s ass cheeks absorb the fourteenth strike. The cane has left a crosshatch about the flesh of Mica’s stretched ass cheeks and upper thighs. “Thank you, I understand.” Burley’s faithful bitch muffles into his forearm. The Bitch-boy is weak-strong like Finn. The eleven-year old admires Mica’s self control. Finn wants the pain to end, but his bitch takes the blows.

Whick-Crack. Mica’s body absorbs the fifthteen strike. “Thank you, I understand.” Mica groans. The man seems to know his age because the metronome has paused. Mica flinches when the man touches his lacerated body.

“You brought this base perversion into my house. You defiled your own brother with your unnatural lust.” The man traces a fingernail along a red welt. “You disappointing excuse for a son and brother. This is unspeakable.”

“Thank you sir, I understand.”

“Remain where you are.”

“Thank you sir, I understand.”

The Man smiles for the first time since the young hookers met him. The hooker on the table has a sheen of sweat across his back. The boy has discipline, something the Man appreciates.

Finn watches apprehensively. Mica should send him a signal, some hint to what will happen next. Being Cain’s little bitch-boy is going to suck if Finn has to endure the caning next. Little-bitch stands his ground, knowing while the the stern man does not look his way, Finn has been noticed.

The man is taking off his expensive clothes. The Man is military-trim and older than Willis Sykes. He has more hair than Finn’s absent father.  The man’s prick is soft and large. It swings before a heavy scrotum.

Finn steps back. He knows this is the wrong thing to do. He is being naughty. The man, as usual, seems reluctant to look at Finn. Everyone looks at Finn, so he does not understand this Man’s reluctance.

The Man thinks the older hustler has been magnificent. This teenager seems to understand him. He lies thrashed across the table where the Man left him. The Man has followed the elf-like younger hustler through every motion of his story. The tween is magnificent too. The delicate, near adolescent perfection of this ordinary little boy. This has been very satisfying. Previous attempts at achieving completion have been jarring and clumsy.

“The cane marks fade.” The man offers absently. He runs his hands over the teen’s svelt body. The salty sweat is pregnant with clean young male flesh. He lifts the cane on the table beside Mica. “Like this,” and then the Man raps out a new beat on the table.

The boy-hustler flinches at the noise. His body is a trembling junkie once again. “Like this.” The man wants Finn to understand the force required. Finn nods understanding. The cane is passed to the Boy without eye contact. “Don’t stop until I say so.”

“You are a filthy boy, aren’t you?” There are essential oils at hand. Frankincense relieves the pain and relaxes Mica’s muscles. It is blended with the best of sensual lubricants. “It is your nature, isn’t it? You really are disgusting. What should you be called now that you have degraded yourself, paedo, kiddy toucher, slotbadger?” The man pulls Mica farther off the table so his anus is available to him. “You’re filth like your thoughts. You know we have to do this, don’t you?”

“Thank you sir, I … I … I understand.”

The man nods his head, turns just slightly toward the naked Finn standing ready with the cane. “The boy begins.”

Whick-Crack, one, two, three, four, five; Whick-Crack, one, two, three, four, five; Whick-Crack, one, two, three, four, five. Finn counts out with determination. This man, who hurt his Bitch-boy, gets what he asked for with all Finn’s strength. Perhaps it will be his turn to get thrashed next. For now, he follows the Man’s instructions.

Whick-Crack, one, two, three, four, five; the man needs the repetitive lash in order to achieve arousal. His hands are all over Mica but he will not touch the whore’s rectum or the sweet organs trapped between the teenager’s slim, muscular thighs.

When the Man’s boner is finally strong, he penetrates Mica in one deliciously slow penetration. Then the pelvic thrusts begin. It is an agonized copulation. Each angry penetration is synchronized with Finn’s blows. Crack, one, two, three, four, five; Finn feels like he is forcing the Man’s big prick into Mica with his cane blows.

The orgasm is a final tormented eruption into the teenage boy. “Enough,” he tells Finn, and the boy drops the long cane. The man lingers briefly in Mic’s twitching body. “Filth,” the man remarks. When he pulls out, he leaves an open hole he has to fixate on. “The brother lifts the boy onto the table.”

For the teenager, the pleasure-pain connection is the consummation of something nobody has understood how to give him. Mica came to be fucked and he has been thrashed and fucked decisively. Mica finally pushes himself up from the library table. His prick aches for release. His sweat has left its mark on the table top. “I can do it.” Finn assures Mica. It is Finn’s turn to be thrashed.

“The boy lies on his back with his feet towards the Man. The Brother straddles the boy’s head and masturbates onto the Boy’s chest. Do you understand what I want here, Filth?”

“Does the boy do anything?” Finn asks, swinging his thin legs playfully on the edge of the table where Bitch-boy has deposited him.

“Do whatever you like, but don’t touch me.” The man is more relaxed. There is a small smile on his face. The Man returns to the table and stands between Finn’s swinging legs. “Now remember what I just told you. The Boy lies back and stops swinging his legs.”

Mica insures that Finn’s legs are settled on the table. Little-bitch is frog legged. The young tween’s scrotum drags down towards his cute brown anus. Finn fondles his own flaccid prick. When Mica begins to masturbate over his face, Finn reaches around to caress the tortured flesh on his Bitch-boy’s butt. The welts are hard, impressive ridges.

Finn ignores the Man standing at his splayed feet. The Man simply devours Finn’s untouchable, young male beauty. Starved as Finn is, the boy has no baby fat to mar the greyhound curves of preadolescent. Finn’s sunken gut muscles never bloat at all. His chest is two hard shields around tiny nipples, and nothing softens his collarbone. Finn grasps his Bitch-boy, reassured by the healthy muscle flex. Father, Cain, Alea, Vikki, me, so Mica should have to do what I say too.

Finn ignores the man. His bitch’s scrotum has shrunk Mica’s balls tight against the strong muscles at the base of his boner. Finn’s fingers tickle Mica’s balls and excite the bitch’s inner thighs. Finn ravages Mica’s ass reminding the flesh of persistent pain and pleasure. Mica is so ready, that jets of seminal fluid begin spattering Finn’s chest and gut. Alea would say bitch-boy performed well today. If anyone cares what Finn thinks, he will tell her so. Finn wonders if his first day out as a little-boy cum-slut is finished, or if there will be more.