Saving Ezra - 10. Chapter 10

content/trigger warning: assault, torture, stupid misguided parent.

I apologize in advance for this one. I’m already in therapy. Yes, I know it’s clear I need it. You should probably have someone handy to hug after you read this… Ezra’s gonna be okay, though. Promise.

Ezra jumped out of the car and ran into his house, hardly waiting for Joshua’s car to come to a complete stop. The teen heard Josh calling his name, but Ezra ignored it, slamming the door behind him and locking it. He leaned against the door, panting, before his knees weakened and he slid to the floor. Ezra waited, listening, until he finally heard Joshua’s car drive away. The boy wrapped his arms around his bent legs and rested his forehead to his knees.

What had he done?

He should have just gone home and told Joshua that he’d let his dad handle it. Ezra had completely screwed up. He’d done everything wrong. He’d let Josh’s mom see him. Then she’d figured out secret things about his dad and Deacon Luke. She didn’t seem to understand everything, either. His dad punished him because Paul was trying to help Ezra, and the things that Deacon Luke had done were Ezra’s fault.

Ezra wasn’t the victim, he was the bad guy.

Then, Joshua… Ezra squeezed his eyes shut and yanked at his hair. Ezra had kissed him. The teen knew Josh had said he was gay, but it couldn’t be true. It had to have been the devil in Ezra tempting and pushing at Joshua. Guilt swamped the teen. Josh had always been nothing but kind to him, and to thank him Ezra pulled him into evil acts.

If that wasn’t enough, Ezra had let Deacon Luke’s name slip out, like the things that had happened were Luke’s fault. Then the teen hadn’t even had the balls to explain. Ezra had fled like a snake slithering into its hole. That’s what Ezra was, a serpent, tempting good people into evil like the devil in Eden. The boy’s shame consumed him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, sniffling into his knees. His bottom hurt from the cold hard floor. Ezra stood on shaky legs and grabbed the bag of clothes he’d dropped next to him. He walked to the basement, throwing the damp clothes in the washer with an armload of dirty things from his hamper. Another run through the wash wouldn’t hurt anything and it would be less suspicious than just washing what he’d worn that day.

After going up to his room, Ezra stripped out of his borrowed clothes, shoving them under his mattress to hide them before hurrying to the shower. He tried and failed to keep his bandaids dry. After he was at least clean on the outside, Ezra peeled them off, hiding them in the bottom of his trash basket. Ezra awkwardly put new ones on the worst gouges and let the others be. He deserved the pain of his clothes rubbing his raw skin.

Anxiety ate at his guts even though he tried to keep himself busy making supper. He thought he might do some homework as a distraction while things cooked, but Ezra realized with a start that he hadn’t had his backpack with him in Joshua’s car. It was probably still sitting somewhere by the school where he’d dropped it when Brody and Tom had grabbed him. A quick glance at the clock showed he didn’t have time to run and get it. His dad would be home any minute. Ezra choked back frustrated tears and scurried to finish making dinner.

Ezra expected his father and Deacon Luke to burst in, knowing exactly what the boy had done, and ready to punish him severely. Ezra knew he’d deserve it. But, Deacon Luke wasn’t there with Paul when he came inside, and Paul seemed perfectly content. It only made Ezra’s guit worse. A dozen times during supper, a confession was on Ezra’s lips, but he bit it back every time, instead trying to force himself to eat and act normally. Paul asked if Ezra was feeling alright, but didn’t probe when his son told him respectfully that he was fine.

Ezra dreaded God’s Therapy. It was Friday, he knew it was coming. There was a very good chance that Paul would see the scrapes and scratches, then Ezra would have to explain. Everything would come out. Ezra hid in his room after cleaning up dinner, but he couldn’t escape the dread that filled him.

A kind of weary acceptance took him when he finally heard his father coming up the stairs a few hours later. It was time. Ezra was sitting stiffly on his bed when Paul opened the door.

“Dinner was good tonight,” Paul told the teen.

“Thank you, sir,” Ezra replied, unable to meet his father’s eyes.

“There won’t be therapy for you tonight,” Paul explained.

The teen looked up in confusion. They always did God’s Therapy on Friday nights. They had for as long as Ezra could remember. What was going on?

“Sir?”

“Don’t worry,” Paul said with a pat to his son’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of things tomorrow when Luke comes over. Rest tonight, read your bible and pray.” The man’s eyes were determined as he looked at his only child. “We’re going to beat this. I’ll never give up on you, son.”

“Th-thanks, Dad,” Ezra choked out.

Paul stepped back, clearing his throat.

“Right, well, I’ll see you in the morning.” Paul put his hands in his pockets. “I have my own prayer and penance to do. We’ll try to get all our housework done in the morning. Luke will be here for lunch and then we’ll have a session.”

“Yes, sir,” Ezra replied automatically.

“Good boy,” Paul praised gruffly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ezra sat silent and unmoving on his bed as his father left. He heard a door shut down the hall. After a few minutes of silence, muffled words of prayer filtered from Paul’s room followed by the distinctive sound of thick leather striking flesh. Ezra jerked with each hit as though he was on the receiving end of the whip.

He couldn’t stand the sound. Ezra rushed downstairs to the living room, pulling out the thick heavy bible from its place on a shelf. The teen sat on the couch, feeling like a heavy weight was settled on him, pulling him down. Ezra didn’t bother opening the book, closing his eyes and bowing his head as he recited from memory.

“Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind: it is abomination,” Ezra whispered to himself. “If a man also lie with mankind as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be…” His voice hitched as he took a shaky breath. “Be put to death: their blood shall be upon them.”

The tears he’d fought back for hours fell freely, leaving shining tracks down his cheeks.

“What comes out of you is what defiles you.” Ezra’s voice sounded broken and lost. “For from within, out of your hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance, and folly.” The teen hugged the bible to his chest. “All these evils come from inside and defile you.”

Ezra bent over himself, his misery choking him as the tears fell faster.

“God, please,” he whispered, voice thick. “Please, help me…”

Ezra let himself fall to side on the couch cushions. He lay there, curled around the thick book, until he finally fell asleep, tears still wet on his face. He dreamed of a peaceful place. His mother was there, features hazy. He was sure it was her, though. She spoke, but he couldn’t understand her words. She finally pulled him close and held him like a small child. She crooned a sweet melody to Ezra as she rocked him. He felt love. It seems to calm the clamoring chaos raging inside him, soothing him like a balm to his heart. For once, he didn’t think of how he’d caused her death or the evil living in him. He basked in the peace he was given and wished he could stay like that forever.

Ezra awoke to sudden sharp pain across his cheekbone.

“Get up,” his father growled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I-I…” Ezra sat up quickly, body stiff from sleeping in a ball on the sagging couch.

“Shut up.” The next slap was harder, catching him in the temple and around his eye. “You were supposed to be praying and reflecting over your sins, which I’m sure are numerous.” A pang shot through Ezra at his father’s words. “Instead, I find you were lazing about and napping? Did you even open that bible last night?”

Ezra was forced to shake his head. The next blow made him cry out, tumbling to his side from the force of it.

“And I’m sure you haven’t even started on your chores.” Paul didn’t give him time to answer. “This is what I get for going easy on you yesterday. My weakness was pity for you, that you’d be having a difficult session today. I won’t make that mistake again.” He leaned down to hiss in his son’s face. “Now, get to work.”

Paul stomped off, leaving Ezra clutching his aching face, heart hammering. When the boy felt like his legs would hold him, he stood, walking over to reverently place the heavy bible back in its place on the shelf. He let his fingers trail against the binding for a moment. He pulled himself away, rushing to begin his chores.

Ezra barely finished his work in time to take a quick shower before he had to start lunch. He tried not to look at his face as he combed his damp hair, not wanting to acknowledge the swelling and bruising blooming around his eye where his father had hit him. It made him think of his failures and his father’s justified anger.

Why couldn’t Ezra do anything right?

The teen passed his father as he was hurrying to the kitchen.

“Don’t bother making enough for three,” Paul told him. “You won’t be eating with Luke and me.”

“Yes, sir.” Ezra kept his head down, only leaving when his father waved him away in disgust.

Lunch was ready when Deacon Luke arrived. Ezra was strung tight as a bow as a feeling of foreboding seemed to settle on him, determined to pull him to the floor. He kept his eyes down and his hands busy, getting plates ready for the two men. They spoke in hushed tones, before sitting at the table to eat.

It was a quiet meal, a current of tension palpable in the room as the men ate and Ezra sat staring at the empty space on the table in front of him. The teen’s stomach growled loudly, causing Paul to glare at his son as though he’d done it on purpose. When they’d finished eating, Ezra was all too happy to get up to clear the table.

“When you’re done cleaning up, use the toilet and then come to your room,” Paul ordered.

The men were quickly gone. Ezra sagged against the counter, his body weak from hunger and stress. A headache was creeping up on him, slowly growing in intensity. Ezra tried to ignore it. He cleaned up everything from lunch, not daring to steal any of the leftover food. Too soon, he was done.

Going up to his room was the last thing Ezra wanted to do, at that moment. He forced his legs to move, carrying him to the bathroom to relieve himself and wash his hands, then on to his room. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, fingers anxiously worrying the hem of his shirt.

A laptop sat on his low dresser with the wobbly rolling desk chair from his father’s room in front of it. A big padded bag sat open on his bed, though Ezra couldn’t see inside it. Deacon Luke was fiddling with little knobs on a strange box that rested on the bed next to the bag. Wires curled from the back, sending a thrill of anxiety through the teen.

“Ah, Ezra,” Luke beckoned, his voice warm. “Perfect timing, we just finished setting up. Are you ready?”

Ezra wanted to tell him no and run.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” The deacon’s smile was nearly blinding. “Come on in. It’s your room after all.” The man chuckled at his own joke.

Ezra clenched his fists and forced himself to walk into his room. He glanced at the bed, suddenly sure they’d found the borrowed clothes he’d stuffed under the mattress. Wild glances around the room showed no paint spattered sweats or too-big shirt. Maybe they hadn’t found them. For some reason, the thought just made him feel guilty.

Luke waved Ezra into the chair. Ezra sat obediently, eyes flicking to his father who stood with his arms crossed a few feet away.

“Did Paul talk to you about what we’re doing today?” Luke asked.

“No, sir,” Ezra said quietly.

“That’s alright. You want me to explain, Paul?”

Ezra’s father must have nodded, because Luke continued talking.

“Have you heard of aversion therapy, Ezra?” Luke leaned comfortably against Ezra’s dresser.

Nausea raged through him as he hugged the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. He tried to do as his father had ordered him, forcing himself to think of attractive men, kissing men, touching men as a man might touch his wife. The sickness gripped him, pushing every thought from his mind as his stomach seemed to turn inside out. Nothing was left in him but bile.

“Yes, sir.” Ezra gripped the armrests until his knuckles burned white, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

“That’s what we’re doing today,” the deacon told Ezra cheerfully. “I got all this stuff from a good friend of ours. He trained me on how to use it properly and safely.” Luke gave the teen what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “So, don’t worry about a thing. We’re going to take good care of you, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Ezra knew he had spoken, but it didn’t feel like him. He felt strangely distant from himself.

“We’re going to tie your hands and feet so you can’t hurt yourself,” Luke explained. “Just try to stay relaxed.”

Luke rummaged in the bag, pulling out a few lengths of rope. Ezra tried to keep his breathing even as he felt the bindings tighten around his wrists and ankles. Both were then fastened to the chair’s base, making Ezra unable to move further than a bit of wiggling. He fought to keep still.

“I have a series of homosexual images that I was given with the setup.” The deacon held up a little flash drive, which he plugged into the computer. “I’ll put it on slideshow in a second.” His tone turned sympathetic. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed. We’re here to help you. All you have to do is keep your eyes on the screen. With every picture, you’ll get some stimulation that will serve as negative reinforcement.” Luke smiled encouragingly. “It’s going to hurt, but you’ll be okay, I promise.” The deacon’s eyes twinkled merrily. “We’re going to take good care of you.”

“Yes, sir.” Ezra’s voice came out hollow. “Thank you,” the teen blurted out after a growl and a glare from his father.

Luke just continued to smile and stepped to the bed behind Ezra’s chair. He dug around in the bag, but the teen couldn’t see what he’d retrieved without craning his neck. He heard something being shuffled around and the familiar sound of latex gloves being put on.

“I don’t want to worry you, but the stimulation is penile,” Luke forced his anticipatory grin down. “It’s supposed to be most effective for boys with your… problem.”

“Wh-what?” Ezra asked in alarm. That couldn’t mean what he thought it meant.

“You be quiet and do everything Luke tells you, boy,” Paul snapped.

“Yes, sir,” Ezra answered, his voice shaking.

Luke knelt on the floor with his back to Paul next to the bound teen. With his friend unable to see his face, the deacon couldn’t hold back his delighted expression. It made Ezra shiver.

“It’s going to be fine, bud, I promise.” The man’s kind tone didn’t match the look on his face. “No shame here, just healing and hope.”

Ezra stiffened when his deacon slowly pulled down the zipper of his pants and popped open the button. The teen’s gaze shot to his father, eyes begging for help. Paul just stood with his arms crossed over his chest, face stony. The deacon pulled out Ezra’s flaccid penis, drawing the boy’s attention firmly back to Luke. The man smirked down at Ezra’s soft organ. The teen was so frightened, he was surprised the thing hadn’t just pulled up to hide inside his body.

Ezra gasped as a slick warm hand began pulling and stroking his cock. He let out a frightened whimper.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” Luke soothed. “You just have to be erect for the sounding rods to seat properly.” The deacon licked his lips. “Just let yourself feel it, and try not to think too much.”

Ezra clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip, wishing he was somewhere, anywhere, else. Anxious embarrassment burned his face as he felt himself responding to the gentle touches.

“There we go,” the deacon praised after a bit more stroking. “Now to keep that up.”

Something painful and tight wrapped around the base of Ezra’s penis, behind his balls. The teen clenched his teeth together to keep from crying out.

“Now, we have to find the right sized sounding rod,” Luke murmured, almost to himself.

Ezra could hear paper and plastic crinkling as well as the tinkling of metal, though he couldn’t see the deacon opening the long sterilization bag. It was filled with smooth stainless steel rods of different diameters, but all about as long as Luke’s hand. Each had an oddly shaped handle at the top.

Luke pulled out the smallest size with a hidden smile. He coated the rod with a clear gel. Ezra had to fight the urge to struggle when the man squirted a dollop of the cool gel onto the head of his penis. The deacon lined up the tip of the metal rod with Ezra’s slit.

“Wh-what…” Ezra squeaked.

“Shhh, now,” Luke soothed. “Everything’s okay. Just stay nice and still. I need to find the size that’s good and snug without tearing your urethra. Just don’t move.”

Ezra’s body was tight with tension, his breath coming in short frightened gasps, as the deacon eased the tip of the metal into his slit. The feeling was bizarre, like nothing he’d experienced before. It didn’t really hurt much, it just felt wrong. He tried not to squirm as the rod was pressed deeper, until only the little handle was sticking out.

“Does it hurt?” Luke watched the boy with hungry eyes.

“N-no,” Ezra whispered weakly.

“Good,” the deacon told him, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “You tell me right away if it starts to hurt.”

“Yes, sir.” Ezra squeezed his eyes closed, fighting back the tears threatening to fall.

“Good boy,” Luke breathed, eyes on the teen’s cock as the sounding rod was slowly pulled out of his urethra and then carefully pushed back in.

The man repeated the action several times, fascinated with the sight of the metal disappearing into Ezra’s body. It was an effort to make himself pull it out entirely and set it aside.

Then teen released a sigh of relief as Luke did so, but then had to choke back a cry of fear as he saw Deacon Luke applying gel to another rod, a larger one. Ezra was trembling when Luke caught the teen’s erection in one hand, giving it a playful squeeze before holding it still to accept the new rod. It slid in slowly, the deacon being careful not to force the metal too fast. It still wasn’t particularly painful, but the strange intrusive feeling was amplified. Looking down at it, the metal rod felt much larger than it actually was.

The deacon was also watching the sounding rod as it disappeared into Ezra’s slit. Luke licked his lips as he carefully pushed the metal into the boy and then pulled it back out, repeating the motion. It was like the shining silver metal was fucking the teen’s hard cock. Luke wanted to put a much larger gauge into Ezra. He wanted to watch the teen moan and cry as Luke fucked Ezra’s dick with a large steel rod.

Luke forced himself to stop, sliding the sounding rod in to the correct depth and leaving it there.

“I think that will work,” Luke said to Paul, turning his head, his expression back to conscientious concern. “I don’t want to hurt him more than we absolutely have to.”

Paul nodded, but felt the need to add, “Just don’t go too easy on him. We want this treatment to work. I won’t have it fail because we were too soft on him.”

“Don’t worry,” his friend replied. “I’ve gone over the guidelines and recommendations for this a hundred times. I’ll do whatever it takes to help, even if that means hurting him. It’s not my favorite thing, but you know I can do what needs to be done. Especially for you both, you’re like family to me. Losing Ezra to evil isn’t an option.”

“Thank you.” Paul’s voice was rough with emotion, even after clearing his throat. “That means a lot.”

The deacon just nodded and turned back to Ezra, who was trying not to squirm. The metal inside him was strange and uncomfortable. The talk of hurting him was disturbing, as well. The teen had no idea what was going to happen, and that frightened him more than anything else.

“Just a couple more things and we’ll be set,” Luke told Ezra kindly as the man grabbed more sterilized packs from the bag.

The first was quickly ripped open to reveal an oddly shaped metal object. Part of it snapped into the little handle of the sounding rod. Attaching it jostled the rod, sending little spikes of pain that made Ezra fight to keep still. The metal then ran down to join a metal ring that hugged snugly just under the head of his penis. A larger ring circled the base of the teen’s cock. It wasn’t nearly as tight as the cock ring Luke had forced onto him.

The fear spread like a monster growing within him, poking his heart and churning his guts, as the deacon attached wires to the rings, which were plugged into the odd box. Though it wasn’t large, the black box was daunting. E-312 was in bright white letters on the front next to a little electronic display. There were four square buttons, two white and two gray, next to three black and white knobs. The wires were plugged in beneath them. Ezra was disturbed to see there were still four empty jacks. He knew that whatever was going to happen was going to be bad, and they were only using two lines on him. The teen shivered and counted his blessings.

“You’re all set, now,” Luke told Ezra with a gentle pat to his knee. “You need to just keep your eyes on the screen. With every picture you’ll get one or two negative stims. Okay? You ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Ezra answered, mouth dry.

“Good boy.”

Luke stood and tapped on the laptop, filling the screen with the first image of the slideshow. A buff tanned man in a cowboy hat and tight undies was flashing his perfect smile at the camera with a come-hither look in his eyes. His skin shone, like he was covered in a sheen of sweat, but it was probably just oil.

Ezra looked at the picture, as ordered, embarrassment burning his cheeks. They quickly turned pale, however, when Deacon Luke turned a knob on the black box and hit a few buttons. Sharp pain shot through Ezra’s privates, making him jump and squeal. When the pain passed, a throbbing tingling sensation was left behind as the teen panted for breath.

“That setting looks about right, Paul,” Ezra heard. “But I can turn it down if you think it’s too much.”

It took a few moments for his father to answer, strain evident in his voice. “No… No, if you think that’s right, I’m sure it is.”

“I know this is hard,” Luke stood, walking to Paul and resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “The technique is supposed to be good, but if you don’t want to do this we can try something easier. Something that won’t be as difficult for him. He’s just a kid.”

“No. He needs this.” Paul’s voice was hard. “I’m not going to stop you just because I’m a little squeamish. It’s just something I haven’t worked with before.”

“If you can’t keep your composure, it could undermine the positive effects,” Luke warned gently. “I feel prepared for anything that comes up…”

“I’ll be fine,” Paul said with determination.

Luke squeezed his friend’s shoulder and returned to Ezra’s side. The deacon clicked a remote, popping another image onto the screen. It was a picture of a pale dark-haired twink sprawled wanton and naked on a bed.

Ezra expected the pain, which somehow made it worse when it came. The teen couldn’t hold back a short scream, his arms and legs yanking at the ropes. Another shock came, causing Ezra to jerk, nearing tipping the chair. Luke held him steady and pulled up another picture. Ezra tried to focus on the image, as he’d been told to, but it was hard. He saw pale blond hair, bright blue eyes, and plenty of exposed skin before he was given another jolt. The buzzing sensation following the sharp electric pain left his stomach threatening to heave. The boy was suddenly glad he hadn’t been allowed to eat.

“He’s too loud,” Luke sighed. “If someone walks by out front, they might hear him carrying on. Should I turn it down?”

Ezra wanted to yell, Yes! Please, it hurts too much! But he kept his mouth tightly shut.

The teen didn’t notice his father until the man was there, swinging a clenched fist into Ezra’s belly. The boy gagged and groaned in pain. It felt like his intestines were shoved into where his lungs should be.

“You keep it down, boy,” Paul snarled as his son hunched over as far as the ropes would allow. “I know you can take pain and keep quiet about it.” His glare softened when he looked to Luke. “Don’t turn it down. I won’t let him weasel out of this by hollering and putting up a fuss.” Paul crossed his arms. “Didn’t you say there was a gag in with the kit?”

“You sure?” Luke’s voice was hesitant, but his eyes sparkled. “It’s mostly so they don’t accidentally bite themselves, but it looked like it could keep someone quiet.”

“Do it,” Paul snapped, then calmed himself, adding, “Please.”

Ezra trembled in the chair, fighting the gripping need to beg them for mercy.

The teen hadn’t needed a gag in years. When he was younger, sometimes he’d have to be gagged if he couldn’t control himself during penance or punishment. Eventually, he learned how to hold back his voice. Needing a gag like a child filled Ezra with shame. His father had been so proud of him when he’d finally gotten to the point where he could choke back his cries of pain. Tears and muffled whimpers were acceptable. They showed remorse and devotion. Screams were a denial, a fight against what was happening instead of acceptance and repentance.

Ezra didn’t beg, though. He opened his mouth obediently for the gag. He didn’t want to shame himself in front of his father more than he already had.

The gag was thick soft terry cloth around a rubber ball. It filled his mouth completely and Ezra knew his jaw would be aching soon. A strap circled the teen’s head and snapped in the back, holding the gag in place. Ezra tried to breathe steadily through his nose. He knew from experience, panic would make everything worse and he couldn’t let his nose get stuffy from tears or it would become hard to breathe. He needed to take strong steady breaths to keep his airway clear.

The pain from the box was too different and applied to such a sensitive area that Ezra couldn’t help his cries. It would take time and practice to learn to be quiet with it. He hoped he wouldn’t have the opportunity to do so. The gag muffled him effectively, however, which was a bit of a relief to the teen. It was embarrassing to have the gag, but he did need it.

After numerous shocks and salacious pictures, Luke paused, looking at his watch.

“I need to take the pressure ring off,” the man told Paul. “If we leave it on too long it could cause permanent damage. If he gets soft and loses the sounding rod, we’ll deal with it.”

Paul nodded, to Ezra’s joy. The tight band just below the conductive ring had started hurting a while before. The pressure was unpleasant on top of the pain of the shocks. The snaps on it were also metal, causing the current to jump and deliver a spike of pain at each one. It would be one less thing to endure.

The teen heaved a heavy sigh through his nose as the cockring was removed. It was an immediate relief. His erection softened slightly immediately. Ezra knew that was bad, but he had no idea how to stop it. The boy found nothing about the situation arousing. Even the pictures were cheap and tawdry, more embarrassing than titillating.

Ezra and Paul didn’t notice Deacon Luke adjusting the settings on the black box.

When the next picture popped up, Ezra grunted at the feeling pulsing in his cock. He’d expected pain, but it was far from that. It felt as though his penis was getting a strange vibrating massage from the inside out. It pulsed, making his muscles tense and his dick jump. After a few more pulses, a large drop of precum escaped the metal and conductive gel to slip down Ezra’s once again fully hard length.

What was happening? This was wrong. Wasn’t it supposed to hurt?

Ezra moaned as the next picture popped up, a large man with rippling muscles and tattoos was plunging his cock into a much smaller and younger man. As soon as the image appeared, the thrumming in his dick grew more intense. It didn’t stop, either, just growing stronger and then weaker before growing again.

With every new picture, Luke adjusted the tempo, intensity, and frequency until he found the perfect settings to leave Ezra writhing in confused pleasure. Luke gave Paul an exaggerated frown.

“Something doesn’t seem to be quite right,” the deacon told Paul with contrived bafflement. “The settings are right. He should be feeling two shocks with every picture… But he looks like he’s enjoying it…”

“The devil in him must be fighting back.” Paul grit his teeth as he watched his son’s hips twitch upward, thrusting into the air. “Can you turn it up?”

“I’ll try,” Luke told him, looking grim. “But if that setting doesn’t work we’re going to really have to increase the intensity and it’ll make his yelling earlier sound like whispers.”

“Do it.”

The next picture appeared, a young muscled man lowering himself onto the long thick cock of a dark-skinned man sitting beneath him. Ezra expected the pleasure to suddenly become pain. Instead, delicious vibrations of tingling pleasure made him gasp. He grunted as the sensations climbed, becoming intense. Every nerve in his body seemed to be attuned to his dick.

Ezra felt like an overfilled balloon. At any moment, he would either explode or fly away.

And then it was too much. His orgasm was so intense, it was more pain than pleasure, tearing through him like a frenzied shark. His muscles shook from the tension wracking them. Cramps bit into his calves and thighs with razored teeth. Ezra’s balls tightened painfully before his semen forced itself around the sounding rod, which was just loose enough to allow the fluid to pass. The teen screamed behind his gag as his come hit the air, spraying from pressure and the shape of the rod’s handle. White streamers flew upward to fall back down, streaking his shirt and pants as well as running down his still-twitching cock.

Ezra sobbed as the box continued sending signals, but it was nothing but pain to the teen’s hypersensitive flesh. He was still erect and dribbling with every shock, as though the machine was determined to suck out every drop he had. The cramps in his legs had twisted into tighter knots, his muscles only able to tremble. He couldn’t stretch them out with his legs tied as they were.

The machine was suddenly clicked off, and Ezra slumped, sobs still choking him, making it difficult to breathe. Then his father was there, strong fingers clenching in Ezra’s shirt, yanking the teen upward until Ezra was hanging in the air, the chair lifting with him.

“Get out of him!” His father gave him a rough shake as he shouted in Ezra’s face. “Leave my son alone! You stole my wife, you can’t have him, too!” Paul let the teen drop back down. The man staggered backward, covering his face with his hands. “He’s all I have left…”

Luke led Paul into the hall with an arm around his friend’s shoulder. Ezra couldn’t hear what they were saying. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. A short time passed before Ezra heard the front door open and close.

Luke sauntered back into the room, a wide grin on his face.

“Your daddy couldn’t take it,” the deacon explained with a chuckle. “I’ll be continuing the session. He asked me to. He won’t be back for an hour at least.” Luke stroked a finger across Ezra’s cheek, just below a bruise. “He seems pretty serious about driving the devil from you.”

The teen flinched back from his deacon, exhausted and terrified. The man just laughed, patting Ezra roughly, making his head ache.

“But you liked it, didn’t you?” Luke’s eyes gleamed as he straddled the boy’s legs, bending down to sweep Ezra’s dark locks from his pretty hazel eyes. They were so full of fear as the boy shook his head in denial. The deacon loved it. “Such a dirty slut.”

Luke straightened, grabbing Ezra’s hair, using it to keep the teen still while the man shoved his hips forward. The deacon’s cock was hard and eager, restrained by his blue jeans. He rubbed his hardness all over Ezra’s face, the rough fabric chafing his skin and digging into dark bruises.

Ezra’s nose was clogging up, but he couldn’t seem to stop the tears that were causing the stuffiness. His face hurt. He wanted to pull away, really he just wanted to sleep. Ezra’s bed was so close, right behind him, but it might as well have been miles away. The teen just wanted Deacon Luke to do what he was going to do so Ezra could clean up and lay down. He wanted to just not think, not do anything. But he knew very well that wouldn’t be happening until the deacon was done with him. Ezra closed his eyes and waited for it to be over, hoping his nose didn’t close completely before then.

“I think I have a better gag for you,” Luke growled as he unsnapped the muffling device.

The teen sucked in grateful breaths, jaw aching, not bothering to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see what was going to happen. The reprieve didn’t last long. Too soon something hard, warm, and unpleasantly familiar was probing at Ezra’s mouth. He whimpered, not wanting to part his lips. He was so tired, of everything. He didn’t want to do this anymore.

With resignation, the teen opened for Luke when the man snarled at him. His mouth was full, but he tried not to think of what it was. The deacon was speaking as he shoved himself in and out. Ezra tuned out the taunts, curses, and cruel words. Luke disliked the lack of reaction from the teen, however. The man shoved himself deep, causing Ezra to violently choke, before pulling back enough to allow himself to lean over and flip the black box back on.

Luke snapped something at the boy. He slapped Ezra and repeated himself until the boy focused on his words.

“You bite me, and I’ll knock out your fucking teeth,” Luke informed Ezra harshly. “You believe me?”

The teen gave a jerky nod. He did believe. Luke could do it and get away with it. The deacon could get away with anything. No one ever stopped him. No one ever would.

Luke hit a few buttons and cranked the dials on the box. He set it to a variable pulse with maximum intensity, so he wouldn’t have to activate it every time he wanted to shock the teen. The deacon forced himself back into Ezra’s mouth.

Luke’s eyes glittered wickedly as the machine’s current clicked on. He fucked Ezra’s mouth as the boy screamed. The pain was so intense and all consuming, the teen hardly noticed his deacon’s actions. A hard blow to the side of Ezra’s head made the teen’s ears ring and his brain feel like it was bouncing around inside his skull. Another hit followed soonafter, leaving a gash from the deacon’s ring. After what felt like a lifetime, his nose was clogged completely and his voice had gone. His vision grayed at the edges as another wave of electric pain drowned him.

As blood trickled from the fresh cut on his temple, Ezra fell gratefully into darkness.