Page 2 of Not Even A Mouse
“Lick it.” Alan’s directions were easy to follow; simple and to the point, which was good because Ronnie’s brain had stopped working a few minutes ago. He pressed his lips to it again, then gave it a lick, as if itwere a frosting spoon. “Put it in your mouth.”
Ronnie shuffled to the side and angled his head, bending over farther. He reached out and grasped Alan’s wrist, holding himself steady as he aimed the pecker at his mouth. “Oh, man,” Alan groaned when Ronnie put his lips around the end, memorizing how it felt in his mouth, the weight of it on his lips, how slippery the skin was when he swirled salivaover it with his tongue. He remembered the picture, how the man had been on his knees and Ronnie was attempting to crouch lower when a shocked inhale broke the spell he’d been under.
Straightening, he whirled and looked to see Mrs. Ednell standing there, hand covering her mouth. Alan pushed past him and shoved the math teacher out of his way, leaving her staggering in his wake. Ronnie lifteda hand and swiped at his lips, surprised they weren’t wet.
“Boy, I find out you’ve caused trouble at school, you and me will have a chat out in the barn.” Mr. Younger hefted his considerable bulk out of his recliner and stalked to where Ronnie stood in the center of the room. His hand landed on Ronnie’s shoulder, fingers digging in with brutal strength. “You know what this is, you should justget it over with. You got all weekend to think on it. Come up with the right answer. Be smart. Tell me now, it’ll go easier on you.”
No it won’t.
***
The heavy atmosphere in the cab of the truck was toxic. Their ride back to the foster home taking forever, moments ticking by as slowly as sap pooling on the cut end of a branch.
Ronnie and Alan had stuck to the story they’d come up with in ahurried bathroom conversation that morning.No, sir. We don’t know what Mrs. Ednell thought she saw.Ronnie was just looking at something on the ground.Ronnie didn’t think the principal bought it, and he knew Mr. Younger hadn’t believed them for a single second.
Throughout the entire meeting, the parts Ronnie was involved in anyway, Mr. Younger’s neck and face gradually had grown a darker anddarker red, his blustering words never once defending Ronnie, just working to ensure the school authorities knew he wouldn’t stand for such perversion in his house. No siree bob, he’d be taking care of that as soon as he got the boy home.
At least Ronnie knew what he had in front of him.
He thought.
“Pervert, go to the barn.” Ronnie jerked and turned to look at the man, seeing only his backas he climbed out of the truck on his side. Not even boy, this time. He slipped out of the truck, careful to close the door gently, knowing slamming it would trigger another round of punishments. He walked to the barn and pushed open the smaller door, going inside and standing for a moment in the soft darkness.
How bad can it be?
A footfall telegraphed Younger’s approach and Ronnie turned. Hefelt lightheaded as blood rushed from his head, fear clotting his brain when he saw the belt in one of Younger’s hands, Bible in the other.
“On your knees, pervert. You like it so much, get down there now.” Younger didn’t even sound mad, so Ronnie stared at him a moment, hoping he’d heard wrong. With a roar, Younger lashed out with the belt, the tail catching Ronnie full across the face in abrutal blow that staggered him. “I said get on your knees, faggot.”
Stumbling backwards, feet tripping over each other, his ears buzzing loudly, Ronnie managed to drop to his knees, balancing there by an act of will. His face was numb, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from blinking rapidly, vision scored through with stripes of shadow and brilliant light.
Younger’s boots scuffed through hay andpacked dirt on the barn floor as he stepped closer and Ronnie’s gaze came into focus, aimed at the front of the man’s pants, where he saw an unmistakable tenting.
The belt came down again and again, each target a new agony as it wrapped over his shoulder, and lashed his ribs, leaving a trail of fire behind every strike. Ronnie cried out as the belt landed unceasing, his whole back screaming inpain.
Younger took another step and stopped in front of Ronnie. “You a little cocksucking faggot, pervert boy?” He bent over and clutched Ronnie’s privates, squeezing hard until Ronnie was retching, his hands battering at the tree trunk of an arm connected to the hand that would not let go. “Like sucking cock?” A final squeeze left him blind and mute, mouth open in a silent scream at the explosionof agony that settled in his groin.
Fingers gripped his chin and lifted, squeezed his cheeks in against his teeth until he tasted blood mixing with the bile already in his mouth. “Pervert.” He opened his mouth to yell and was choking, gagging around some foul-smelling thing obstructing his airway. Deeper and deeper it pushed, then pulled back and he sucked in air.
Ronnie had found out just howbad it could get.
