Saturday Morning Post 97: Truth or Dare (Part 3)

The third and final part of the next short story from my collection “24 Exposures.”

We continue with another story from my collection 24 Exposures, which was written around the turn of the century. Some old, familiar characters pop up in this one. Kevin, Rick, and Pedro game of Truth or Dare has spun even farther off of the rails.

“Truth,” Kevin said.

“New rule,” Pedro went on. “No more truth. Dares only.”…

“You can’t do that,” Kevin said.

“He just did,” Rick cut in. “What’s your dare, Kevie?”

“I’m not playing anymore,” Kevin whined. “You win.”

“I think Kevin here needs to go for a naked walk,” Rick said to Pedro.

“Right,” Pedro said. “Kevin. Clothes off.”

“I’m not playing — “

Before he could finish the sentence, Rick was there, knocking the glass from his hand, grabbing him in an arm lock, the other hand clamped under his chin, holding his face up.

“The game isn’t over until the host says it is, and there’s one more round to go.”

“Guys, come on…”

“Pedro, help me here.” Pedro nodded as Rick moved his hand from Kevin’s chin, grabbed the front of his t-shirt and ripped. He tore it all the way down, let go of Kevin’s arm and yanked it off.

“Hey, okay, enough — “ Kevin protested, but Pedro suddenly grabbed his ankles, lifting his feet off the ground. Rick caught Kevin by the shoulders and they dragged him into the living room, wrestling him to the ground. He put up a good struggle, but he was really no match, finally trying to curl into a ball, holding his boxers on. Rick grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen and, in two quick cuts and a yank, the boxers were history.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Rick said. Kevin sat up on the living room floor, face red, legs together, body hunched, trying to hide in the carpet.

“Okay, there, you had your fun,” his voice wavered, truly close to cracking now. “Give me my clothes back, I’m going home.”

“The fun’s just beginning,” Rick said, standing above him, hands on his hips. “What’s the big deal? We’re both still naked. It’s just a game.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“No. You know what’s funny? A guy who manipulates everyone around him, always manages to cause trouble without getting into any himself. Mr. Instigator, aren’t you? What’s your story, Kevin, really? Why do you get off on making problems?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. Or maybe you don’t. But if you don’t, then you’re a lot sadder than I thought you were. Hey, Pedro, what do you think we should do with him?”

“I don’t know. You want to go dump him in Compton?”

“That’s too far. Maybe just Van Nuys.”

“Rick, man, come on. What did I ever do to you?”

That hit a nerve. Rick thought about it, realized the answer was “Plenty.” Never anything openly or obvious, but Kevin had screwed lots of things up. Generally, it involved ruining some macking attempt by Rick at a party. He’d be moving in for the score on some hoochie, really catching her eye, and then Kevin would pop up, make some rude comment and vanish. But that would be enough. Women often judged men by their friends, rightly or wrongly, and their interest would wane.

And there were all those times that Rick would have succeeded at a party, stepped away to get drinks for himself and his new found female friend, and come back to find that Kevin had horned in, wouldn’t go away, became a parasite, and yet was apparently ignorant of the intrusion. Many a night with Kevin around had ended with a woman suddenly excusing herself, saying her friend had a headache and she had to go now, and the phone number she’d give Rick in parting was always wrong.

“Get up,” Rick suddenly said. Kevin rolled his eyes and huffed. Rick grabbed his arm. “Up, now.”

“Give me my pants,” Kevin said.

“Stand up and you’ll get them.”

They stared at each other, Kevin glowering, Rick realizing he’d never seen him look so angry. Finally, Kevin hauled himself to his feet, stood there with his hands covering his crotch, nostrils flaring.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m up.”

“And now you’re down,” Rick said, and he knocked Kevin cold with a single right hook that sent him spread-eagle onto the sofa, TKO.

* * *

The first thing Kevin noticed when he woke up was that he was staring at the carpet, lying across the coffee table. The second thing he noticed was the duct tape on his mouth. Third was that his wrists and ankles were tied to the table legs. Fourth, and most disconcerting in his mind, was that he was still naked, ass in the air, and he couldn’t move.

He heard Rick and Pedro off in the kitchen, talking in whispers, pausing, talking again. He pulled with his arms, but it was useless. He was pretty well secured.

Rick appeared from the kitchen, still naked, half full glass in his hand. Kevin lifted his head, turned his eyes. Pedro was hanging back, looking worried, fully dressed.

“Sorry about that, Kevie,” Rick said as he knelt in front of him, dick at eye level if Kevin looked anywhere but the floor. “Looks like you’ll have a little bit of a shiner there, but you kind of earned it.”

Kevin grunted an angry inaudible sentence through the duct tape. Rick lay on his side and looked up at him.

“I know, you’re probably pissed. But it was your turn for the dare.”

Kevin’s eyes flashed and he yanked and kicked, to no avail. Rick went on, “See, it could have been truth, but rules are rules. The truth part was so much simpler. How come you always get away with it?”

Kevin’s eyes widened, one thick eyebrow lifted. What?

“You know what I’m talking about,” Rick continued. “Everything you do, everybody you fuck with, and it never seems to come back to you. It’s like you’ve got this magic karma or something. I mean, what, were you Gandhi in your last life? Hell, you’re skinny enough to be, aren’t you?”

Rick reached out and pinched Kevin’s bicep, feeling bone. The kid was thin, pale, soft. If it weren’t for the genitalia, his body could have easily been that of a very tall, late-blooming thirteen year-old girl. “Remember Jennifer?”

A worried noise blew muffled through the duct tape. “Oh, yeah, see, you do. And you know exactly what you did. I didn’t think you were completely oblivious.” Rick lay on his back, looking up at Kevin now. “There I was, about to score with this hot young blonde with the huge tits, and poof! Kevin appears, to work his bad magic. ‘Hi, Rick. That rash clear up yet?’ ‘Oh, looks like Big Mac is gonna get him some special sauce.’ ‘G, thanks for letting me borrow your crab shampoo…’ But I can never figure out whether it’s revenge or stupidity. If it’s revenge, well, you’re in big trouble then, Kevie. If it’s stupidity, I’m here to give you some smart lessons.”

“Rick…” Kevin saw Pedro’s feet out of the corner of his eye, half-turned toward the door. “I’m going to go now, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Rick said absently. “Hey, I told you, don’t worry. We’re just playing a game. Right?”

“Right. See you later.”

And Kevin heard Pedro leave, heard the door close, but something in the way Rick had said “right” scared him. It wasn’t a reminder, it was a warning, but whether it was to him or Pedro or both, he didn’t know. He tried to tell Rick the fun was over, let him go, but it came out as gibberish.

“Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. I guess you did the dare, now it’s time for the truth, so here we go. Truth, Kevo. Do you do it for revenge or are you just stupid?”

“Ow!” Kevin yelled as Rick suddenly tore the duct tape off his mouth, leaving his lips raw. And then Rick grabbed Kevin’s hair with his left hand, lifted his head, looked into his eyes.

“Which one is it?” he demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kevin insisted.

“Liar,” Rick admonished. He brought his right hand up, gently touched the side of Kevin’s face. Kevin flinched at the unexpected pain. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise,” Rick said. “Ruin your pretty-boy looks for a while. As if.”

“What do you want?” Kevin choked out.

“I want the truth, that’s all,” Rick said.

“I haven’t done anything to you,” Kevin insisted. “Really. I haven’t. You’re my friend, Rick.”

“You don’t have any friends.” Rick leaned down, looked right in Kevin’s eyes. “Isn’t that right? Deep down, you know it. You don’t have any friends.”

Kevin’s lip trembled and he let out one gasp before he sucked it all in and changed strategies. “Melinda knows I was coming here tonight,” he said. “And Stacey. So if anything happens — “

“Kevie, I’m not going to hurt you. Anyway, you think either of them would really care if you just vanished? You’ve pissed them off, you’ve pissed me off. But, most heinously, you’ve pissed off somebody very important to me, and I want you to apologize.”

“Okay, who, I’ll do it,” Kevin sputtered. Rick grinned, leaning up on his knees, both hands wrapped in Kevin’s hair now.

“Well, see, you’ve really done a disservice to Little Rick here, by interfering in his affairs so many times.”

Kevin tried to turn his head away as Rick raised his hips, bringing Little Rick — who wasn’t that little — right into the line of sight. Kevin closed his eyes, but Rick put a thumb on the black eye, insisted, “Open wide and say you’re sorry.” Kevin squinted his eyes shut tighter but Rick kept pressing until he had no choice but to relent. He opened his eyes and Rick’s penis was less than an inch from his nose. It was limp, but it was a dick, for Christ’s sake. Kevin could smell the stale musky scent of Rick’s pubic hair, tried not to breathe.

“Now, say you’re sorry,” Rick said.

“I haven’t done anything,” Kevin squealed back, closing his eyes again.

“Yes, you have,” Rick replied. Then, he leaned forward and Kevin felt this warm, soft thing press into his face, Rick’s hairy balls swing around his nose. He breathed through his mouth, trying to pull his head back, hoping those things would drop low enough that he could bite them off, then he’d say he was sorry. But Rick pulled Kevin’s head forward, pushed his hips, rubbing that thing all over his face and Kevin could feel it getting less soft, though not much less.

“Stop it!” he finally screamed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry, for whatever you think I’ve done, I’m sorry, leave me alone, let me go. I’m sorry…”

“Well, I believe you,” Rick said, loosening his grip slightly. “But little Rick doesn’t. He says he wants you to kiss him to prove you’re sorry.”

“Rick, goddammit, this isn’t funny anymore.”

“This isn’t a joke. Pucker up, Kevie.”

Kevin screwed his eyes and mouth shut, trying to turn his head away, but Rick tightened his grip again, put his thumb to the bruise. Kevin cried out, trying to fight, but Rick twisted him around, then pressed his dick to Kevin’s lips. Kevin’s face went tighter and Rick let his head go, stepping away.

“See?” he said. “I knew you didn’t mean it.”

Rick picked up his drink and took a sip, absently scratching his side, watching this pathetic mess who had been such a confident boor only an hour earlier. This demon that had caused so much trouble, now completely helpless, ruined, scared.

Helpless.

Rick realized he’d gotten fully hard when that thought crossed his mind, but it wasn’t a sexual kind of arousal. It was power. He had complete control over Kevin, the boy was utterly subdued, and god, was it making Rick horny. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected that at all. So this was the real excitement of war, he decided.

He put down his drink, went to the door and locked the deadbolt. He turned and looked at Kevin’s frail white body, sprawled over the coffee table, knees on the floor. He gave his dick an idle stroke, then walked back to the table, stood in front of it, looking down.

“You’re just a pathetic little girl,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, whatever you say,” Kevin threw back sarcastically. Then he looked up, saw Rick’s erection pointing at the ceiling, and let out an incoherent gurgle of fear. “No…” he pleaded. “No, god, no, please…”

“Shut up,” Rick said, then he put the duct tape back over Kevin’s mouth. Kevin shuddered and started yanking at his bonds in earnest, helpless. Rick went around behind him. Yeah, from this angle, skinny waist and wide hips, it could have been a young girl. He stuck the middle finger of his left hand in his mouth, got it good and wet and shoved it, with little fanfare, up Kevin’s ass all the way to the third knuckle. Kevin’s hips leapt off the table and he tried to pull away, but couldn’t.

Rick pulled his finger out, thought about gently working his way into things, then figured, “Fuck it.” He’d gone too far to back out now, and power was an aphrodisiac. And so, he put down his drink, got on his knees behind the table, spread Kevin’s cheeks wide with his hands and jammed his painfully hard dick all the way home in one stroke, then raped the little fucker, jamming in and out and Rick didn’t stop until he’d cum and Kevin had given up any struggle, flopping like a rag doll onto the table, broken and finished, and in this evening’s game of truth or dare, Rick emerged the only winner.

* * *

Rick had felt guilty after last night, had cleaned Kevin up with a warm washcloth, then untied him and gently pulled off the duct tape. But, at that point, Kevin had been an inert lump, not really moving, face contorted in an expression of pain and fear. He didn’t do anything when Rick freed his hands, just flopped onto the floor. He was no threat anymore. Rick carried him to the bedroom, put him in bed and covered him, then grabbed a blanket from the linen closet and slept on the couch.

Morning.

Rick woke up to bright ten a.m. light, head banging. He sat up, remembering what had happened, looking at the coffee table in trepidation, seeing no one there. Aw, shit. He’d really been wasted last night, he didn’t mean to… maybe he hadn’t.

No. He had, he knew it. Fuck. He dragged himself off the couch, wrapping the blanket around his waist, went into the bedroom.

He’d expected Kevin to be gone, but he wasn’t. He was lying in the bed, crunched up in a fetal position, clutching a pillow. He looked so… harmless now. He was facing the door, and Rick could see the ugly purple-yellow bruise on his face. He regretted doing that, really he did.

He went to the bed, gently sat down on the edge, whispered a timid, “Kev?” Nothing. He raised a hand to reach over, pulled back. He dreaded this moment. “Kevie?”

Kevin’s eyes slowly opened, looked up at Rick. Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then, the silence of the room was broken by Kevin’s sharp intake of breath, a series of sobs. He sat up, staring at Rick, who didn’t know what to expect. If Kevin tried to kick the shit out of him right now, he wouldn’t fight back.

And then Kevin threw his arms around Rick, held him tight, face buried in his chest, sobbing. “I thought you were my friend, Rick,” he cried. “I thought you were my friend.”

Rick stared down at him. That face was so sweet and innocent. He was a child impersonating an adult, really. He listened to Kevin crying for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around him, held him.

“Sssssh,” Rick said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kevie, really. I am so sorry.”

“I thought you liked me,” Kevin went on, and Rick felt the hot wet tears splattering down his stomach.

“I do like you,” he answered. “I really do. I do like you, Kevin. Sssssh.”

And they stayed like that for a long time, Kevin crying and Rick gently rocking him back and forth, holding him in his arms, wanting to do anything to stop his pain, to protect him from the cruel world, to make the hurt go away. And he knew, in that moment, that he and Kevin would be inextricably linked, bound together by fate, for years, for decades, if not forever.

“Ssssh,” Rick repeated, again and again, as this gentle harmless angel cried and cried in his arms.

* * *

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