Liam's Mistake, Part 10: Plotting

I almost forgot I was still writing this.  Part 10, for all three of you who enjoy this story.  Again, the usual disclaimers: fictional, do not try at home, yadda yadda yadda, if you post this somewhere else link back to me.

Liam and I laid there in bed until my dick softened and slithered out of him. It was too early in the afternoon to lie around and do nothing, so we took a quick shower together washing away the sweat and sex from our bodies.  Afterwards, I slipped on a robe, grabbed my laptop, and headed out to the garden, with Liam following behind me.

    Setting my laptop down on a lounge chair, I walked over to the absurdly oversized hot tub and sat down on the edge, dangling my legs into the steaming water. “Hop on in, the water’s fantastic.” The order wasn’t necessary, Liam was in before I finished talking.  Diving beneath the water, he nibbled on my toes before surfacing between my legs, a seductive leer on his face as he gazed up beneath my robe.

    I ran my fingers through his wet, spiky hair as he lightly licked the tip of my hard cock with his tongue. Grabbing the back of his head, I pulled his face into my lower stomach, shoving my cock down his throat. He gagged around my cock, and I pulled back, my cock resting in his mouth, being teased by his tongue as he adjusted.  Slowly, I eased my cock further in, pulling his head slowly, but insistently, towards my stomach.

As I sank my cock into his throat, I slipped myself off the edge of the hot tub and into the water. As I held his head beneath steaming water, I face-fucked him slowly, pumping my cock in and out of his mouth and throat, feeling him grow more desperate as he ran out of air. I pulled his head above the water, letting him catch his breath, before dunking him again.  Again, I skull-fucked him beneath the water, feeling him struggle for air as I plowed his face with my cock, the hot water swirling around me.  As I hammered into his face I looked at his body beneath the surface, half-floating, half-resting on the blue bottom of tub, the sunlight catching the water above him and leaving a golden web stretched across his smooth copper body, his feet kicking a few times as he struggled for air.  Seeing his legs kick, I had an inspired idea.

I pulled his head back up to the surface and let him catch his breath, leaning against the edge of the tub, panting heavily.

“Hey Liam, think you can swim well?”
“I guess so...”
“Swim to that end and back”
Two strokes there and two strokes back. It’s a large hot tub, but it’s definitely not a pool.  I turned on the swim jets to full power, blasting the water at us.
“Try swimming against that.”
He dove into the current, furiously swimming against the hot water pushing against him. It looked exhausting. Excellent.
“Keep that up until I say otherwise.” I pulled myself out of the water and sat in my lawn chair overlooking the hot tub.

I sat there on the lawn chair, checking my email as Liam struggled in the steaming waters, paddling against the jets.  There was a disturbing number of messages in my inbox from members of the Evocati.  Usually, whatever contact I had with schoolmates was on facebook or in person.  Close friends would text me.  But these emails were from about five different members, all heading into their Sophomore and Junior years.  And each one had a subject like “About Eric’s Party” or “I need to tell you something about Saturday night.”

I sighed.  Eric had been right.  I was foolish to think that the sadistic orgy that had happened at his house would go unmentioned and un-noted afterwards.  Foolish, wishful thinking on my part.  Time to the bite the bullet and deal out the damage control. I decided to open Reggie’s, an upcoming Junior, first.

I had had problems with Reggie his freshman year.  He had thought the cabal should have taken a more active role, specifically in terms of cheating on tests, manipulating the administration, providing members with blackmail information on students, just really shitty power for power’s sake stuff.  Obviously, the cabal had no such interest in such time consuming and overall pointless activities. I took him aside one day to explain the situation.

After I had asked him to lay off, he had replied with “Look, I don’t understand what the problem is.  We have the ability to do all of this, why shouldn’t we?”  
"We don't want this turning out just like the Vigil!”
"The Vigil?"
"You know, from the Chocolate War?"
"Never read it."
“Really? That was required in Middle School!"
"Mine didn't have it."
"Huh... well, I don't want this turning out just like Lord of the Flies"
"Never read that either"
"How about Catcher in the Rye?"
"Yeah, we read that... what's so similar between that and this?”
"Absolutely nothing, I was just trying to figure out how bad your Middle School's English department was.  Where on earth did you go, the local public school?"
"No, of course not. St. Lucifer's Academy"
"Oh my god, you're a satanist.  That... actually makes a lot of sense.  I'm surprised that your parents didn't name you Damien."
"They did.  Reggie's short for Reginald, my middle name. My full name is Damien Reginald Brewster."
"Isn't that kind of cliche?"
"Not really, I'm actually the third, and when my grandfather was born, Damien wasn’t so common or obvious"
"Ahhh... wait... do your parents host demonic sex orgies?"
"We're Reform-Satanists... they're just regular sex orgies now without all the trappings of the hexagons and upside down stars and murdered chickens... we're actually vegetarians"
"weird ... your grandfather Damien must be spinning on his spit in hell"
"probably"

So, after that, I explained to him the basic plot of the The Chocolate War. Of course, it isn’t exactly the best example, because the Vigil ends up winning in that one, but at the same time, it got across the point that just because we’re a secret society filled with absurdly wealthy and intelligent students at a private prep school, that doesn’t mean that we hold obscene power over everybody around us.

Honestly, that part should have been obvious considering some of the absurd rules that we came up with every year.  For instance, this past year, we decided that every meeting should be opened by a group singing of the theme to Dawson’s Creek.  However, it quickly became apparent that no one in the group actually knew the song, so we made a couple more rules to go with it. First was that no one was actually to watch the show or look up the song. Second was that we would just sing as much as we knew.  So, the opening for each meeting became the group of us singing the words “I don’t wanna wait for our lives to be over...” before humming the next few bars until we drifted off into awkward silence.

We also agreed that given the success of last year’s cover as the South American Culture Klub, or SACK, at the school, that we should this year be known as Friends of American Politics, or FAP. The school welcomed extracurricular clubs, and as long as there was a seemingly legitimate purpose, they would provide each club with a small budget and school facilities to use.

The trouble, of course, was that a secret society couldn’t exactly get club funding. So, every year since time immemorial, we chose a different cover story and built a club for it. The general rules we went by were to make it sound as boring and as nonthreatening as possible to keep out other possible members and the school’s interest and to disband whatever new club we had created at the end of every year (also, we always tried to make the acronym slightly dirty).

Thus, the Evocati Cabal had remained hidden for... well, I don’t actually know for how long.  No official history was ever written and ever changing rules and identities meant there was never actually any evidence that the club had existed.  I knew it was around my Freshman year, and that there were four representatives from each class then, but if it had been founded my Freshman year or in 1838, when The Academy was founded, or any time in between, I had no idea.

Opening Reggie’s email, I expected... something. A condemnation? A threat to pull out of the Cabal and report our activities? That could be handled. He had no proof and the Cabal was good at keeping secrets.  We would have to be quieter than usual, but that would be a fair price to pay.  We would all deny that such a group existed and plead ignorance, the school administration would be unable to punish us, and we would go on meeting.  If Reggie brought others within him though... No. We would find a way to silence them. Or maybe just meet Reggie’s terms and buy him off.

I shook the thoughts from my head and decided to read the email. No sense in counting chickens before they hatched.   It started off with Reggie saying that he had never before done something like that, how it was completely unexpected, yadda, yadda, yadda, skip to the end... “...thrilling.  I look forward to your response.”  Wait. What?

Rereading the email, it became clear that Reggie had found the domination and humiliation aspect rather enjoyable and that he hoped to do it again sometime, maybe even go further. Hurriedly, I flipped through the other emails.  They were all the same, each of the five members asking if we could please humiliate, dominate, torture boys again.

I closed my laptop, set it down and stood up.  My cock was hard from the thoughts of torture and humiliation, but I was too shocked, too surprised by this turn of events.  I could stop it, easily, give them each the same speech I gave Reggie those years ago, that that’s not what we do, that the one meeting had just gotten out of control, and that it wouldn’t happen again.

But I knew I wouldn’t.  As I watched Liam struggle against the hot jets, I knew that my time with him had only whetted my taste for sadism. I wouldn’t dare throw him to my fellow Cabal members; he was my plaything and mine only. But I would need some sacrificial lamb to drag out to them, to torture with them. But who? Staring down at Liam struggling below me, a terrible, evil plan began to form.  One I would have shuddered at not too long ago, but now that I had the taste for it, I hungered for it.

That plan could wait. For now, I had my struggling slave boy to deal with.  Walking out to the control panel, I tapped off the jets with my toes.  Liam collapsed in the water, drifting aimlessly in circles as the remaining currents pulled him around.  I could see his chest heaving for breath, his copper skin flush with heat and exhaustion, the steam rising in billowing clouds around him. I stepped down into the hot water, pulling off my robe and tossing it aside as I did.

I waded through the water towards him and gathered him up in my arms.  He wrapped himself around me, his hands clinging to my back, his face buried in my chest.  I stepped out of the water, holding him in my arms, and laid him down gently on the lawn chair.


I rolled him over on his stomach and straddled his lower back.  The late spring, early afternoon sun warmed by pale back and freckled shoulders as I ran my hands along his flush, copper skin, tracing the trickles of water as they ran down his back.  My thick cock, lying languidly on his back, began to harden. Stirring like a python waking from a long nap. I spat into my hand and stroked my cock, feeling it engorge in my hand, the reddish purple head shiny with my saliva.

He turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me, his large brown eyes exhausted but still hungrily staring at my cock. I ran my hand up the nape of his neck and grabbed a handfull of his sleek jet black hair, still spiky with water.  I pulled his head back. He mewled.

My left leg between his thighs. My left arm wrapped around his left leg, pulling his body up. My right hand holding onto his hair. His head pulled back, his body balancing on his arms and his right thigh, his ass open and exposed, his tight hole pressed against the head of my cock.  I forced myself in, splitting him open. Hearing him groan, readjust his weight.  I thrust in and out, short, simple thrusts.  My stomach smacking his ass, my cock plunging in and out.  He pants. He mewls. He throws his head. I tighten my grip on his hair and pull him back again.  The sweat forms on my forehead, and trickles down the side of my face. I taste it in the corner of my mouth.

I pull him up onto his right knee, and he reaches an arm behind, wrapping around me for support. Ivy clinging to a column. His eyes are closed now and I bury my mouth in his neck, biting and kissing. He mewls some more.  I drop his left knee back on the chair, wrap my arm around his body, holding him close.  My cock is buried balls deep inside him, pulling out only an inch or two before slamming back in. My fingers find his nipples. I tweak them. He twitches, moans, bucks.

My arms are wrapped around him, hands holding onto his shoulders.  He falls forward, panting heavily now, on his hands and knees as I fuck him doggy style.  The sweat runs down my body, mixing with the droplets of sweat and water still clinging to him. His moans have groan higher, keening now, he’s thrusting against me as much as I’m thrusting against him.  He needs this, craves this. And I can feel that need. Feel it in my cock buried inside him. Feel it is bucking body, his tense muscles, his panting breath.  Feel it as it reverberates through my own body.

And I cum. Coating his insides, my essence pouring inside him and dripping out as I pull out. He collapses and lies facedown on the lounge chair, my seed pooling in the crack of his ass and dripping out.

I pick up my robe and computer, and I walk back inside.