The late afternoon sun was still very warm and Scott was almost asleep. He lay naked on his towel, his limp sex curled on its bed of pubic hair, when a voice broke through his lethargy. "Hey, can we have some fun with you?" It was a man about his own age in just a red Speedo. Next to him was another, dressed the same, but with an erection showing over the top of the suit. "I'm Chris, said the blond, "and this is Joe." He gestured to his black companion.
Scott raised himself on his elbow, preparing to get up, when Chris said, "No? OK. See you around," and turned away.
"Wait!" Scott had no idea why he said this. He wasn't looking for multiple partners, or the edge of menace he picked up from the two.
"Wait? Oh, yeah? You want to be our toy?" Scott said nothing. Chris's lips almost curved into a smile. "Hey guys!! I think we've got a lamb!" he called, directing his voice over the top of the dune. He placed the sole of his foot on Scott's sternum and nudged him back to a supine position. "As you were, then." He left his foot there and Scott knew that the increasing strength of his heartbeat could be easily detected.
Three more men appeared over the dune. Another blond and two darker, Mediterranean or middle eastern. Scott felt fear, but also anticipation. What was going on? Did he yearn to be used? His breathing became shallower and more rapid. His penis began to swell.
Chris removed his foot and said, "Cy and Phil here are into rope play, but first let's pin you down." Two of the men wrapped rope around his wrists and fashioned a loop through which they placed tent stakes. They placed Scott's hands even with his head and splayed out somewhat before pounding the stakes into the sand. It was sand, and so Scott was not permanently tethered, but he didn't want to break free. He relaxed and his penis began to straighten.
Next Cy and Phil produced ropes from which other ropes dangled. They knelt down and tied the main rope around Scott's thighs as high as possible. Their knuckles grazed Scott's testicles as they worked and Scott's penis stiffened even more. It was erect. His arousal was visible to everyone. The exposure caused a spasm in Scott's torso, more pleasure for Scott and more evidence of his willing participation in the activities.
More ropes were tied around his thighs just above his knees and then Cy and Phil began to construct elaborate designs between the two bands on each thigh. Scott writhed with pleasure.
When they were done, Chris said to no one in particular, "OK, go get the stuff." Two men climbed the dune and returned with what looked like small dead bushes in their arms. There was no foliage, but thin, woody, intricate stems. Scott thought they might be what tumble weed looked like.
"We're not into permanent damage," Chris told him. "But we do like a little bit of... sort of pseudo-torture. These will sting like hell, but won't break the skin very often. So let's see what other perversions we can uncover from your virgin psyche. We can tell from that telegraph there." He nodded at Scott's erection. "Will it go up or down?" he laughed. He flicked it with his forefinger and a sharp, erotic sensation travelled up Scott's abdomen.
"OK, guys, choose your weapons."
Scott couldn't imagine being turned on by pain, but when the first blow came he realized he craved more. His whole body melted in surrender, except for his cock, which shouted out how much he affirmed what was happening. It was clear to everyone, including himself. The men took their turns one at a time, on different parts of his body, the brush weapons breaking apart and leaving debris over Scott. At each blow he emitted a muffled, inarticulate sound, but in his mind he was shouting Yes! Yes!. It was the clear, unambiguous sense of surrender that thrilled him.
When they finished with his front they wrenched out the stakes and told him to turn over. Scott did so and spread his arms and legs, inviting the bondage, craving the assault everywhere. They didn't take time to re-stake him, so Scott held himself steady and available as they resumed their assault, one by one. The branches were thicker now, having been broken off. Scott was grateful that the last blow, on his buttocks, was especially strong. He was sure it drew blood.
"Ok, move off the towel. We don't want it to get all messy. And raise your ass in the air."
Scott lifted himself with bent knees. This time they did re-position the stakes, holding him in place, so his anus was well exposed. Chris applied lubricant to his own cock and pressed the tip against Scott. It took some maneuvering to get the ridge past the sphincter, but once done he was able slowly and smoothly enter Scott until thighs and buttocks were pressed hard together. He pulled out and in and grasped Scott's cock and stroked it in the same rhythm. Scott felt like his cock was being pumped with more and more blood with each stroke, until semen shot onto the sand. Then Chris emptied himself into Scott and collapsed on his back.
After a few moments Chris rolled off and said, "The others will get their chance later, if you're willing to join us in our club house. What do you say?"
Scott could only nod his head in acceptance. He was untethered and given the towel to wrap around his waist. The rope on his thighs pressed against his testicles and rubbed together with every step, reminding him that he was their art work, their play thing. He was led to a low structure set further back in the dunes. It was made of cinder block, flat roofed, with small windows close to the eaves, so there was no view in our out. But as they approached a sharp edge of pleasurable and fearful anticipation lodged in him. But it wasn't a conflict of emotions, he realized ruefully. It was pleasurable fear. He was finding pleasure in certain kinds of fear.
The dim interior of the building contained a small stage on the far wall and a bar along the right hand side. It was filled with young men, most also wearing Speedos, but a few in jeans and two stark naked. Many were sitting at small tables. Others were standing in close groups.
