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Review This Story || Author: Hooks

The Story Of Indio

Chapter 1

I tell this story about my friend Indio, who I grew up with

I tell this story  about my friend Indio, who I grew up with. Indio is dead now, gay plague got him at the age of  thirty-nine. He and I were orphans together in a place I’ll call Boysville, though nobody knew Indio’s story. I got a bad enough deal—my folks, whoever they were—didn’t bother to give me a front or middle name, just initials, but “Abandoned Infant Indio” was all that was on Indio’s birth certificate.

 

Indio showed up at Boysville when he was a youngster, after a dozen or so years in orphanages, group homes, blah blah. No one wanted to adopt or foster him, since Indio was some kind of  half-breed, and he was a scrawny one at that.

 

 Eugene and I took Indio under our wing after we watched him crying because he’d been beaten by a couple of the “counselors” at Boysville—and bullied by some of the older boys. I won’t say that Boysville was a horror show like some of those places, but there were a few rotten apples.

 

Eugene, Indio and I had three things in common that make life hell in the System. We were small, we were smart, liked books, sarcastic sense of humor, all that, and worst, we were queer. And that was bad enough without Indio crying and weeping when he was knocked around by the predators.

 

A few years before Indio got to Boysville, Eugene and a guy who left called the Mongrel had “toughened” me up—it had taken a week, and as soon as I’d gone through a week or two of it, I could handle myself, and I didn’t want any more toughening.

 

Eugene had only had to tie me down a couple of times naked and whip my ass with a strop before I learned fast not to make too much noise, and then I was tough, and the Mongrel taught me to use my hands, which took care of the bullies.

 

But Indio…was different. I remember how we were watching Millard, the bullying counselor whipping Indio’s ass because he’d forgotten to do a good job of cleaning Millard’s office, and Indio had cried like a baby, especially when Millard had twisted Indio’s tiny little nutsack, as the kid’s pants were twisted around his knees.

 

Indio, Hooks and I are going to teach you to be a man!”Millard had said with fourteen year old rage. Indio had made no protest when we’d ordered him to strip down and lie on his bed in the dorm while everyone else was at chores.

 

I’d tied Indio’s little wrists behind his back with clothesline, and knotted his ankles together, and stepped back as Eugene had come forth with the tools that he’d used on me—the first being a straightened coat hanger with a black tape handle.

 

I’d burst into tears when Eugene had lashed me with the damn thing, but after two or three beatings, I’d been able to laugh when creeps like Millard had tried to work me over using just a weeny little plastic paint-paddle.

 

WHACK! WHACK! As Eugene had lit into Indio with the coat hanger, it was shocking. Indio didn’t cry at all. Even when I saw the welts rising up on his little brown buttocks. Indio didn’t make a sound. Finally, Eugene stopped.

 

“Hey man, you’re not in shock are you?” Eugene looked really concerned, and Eugene wasn’t shocked easily, having seen his mother blow her brains out on the kitchen table ‘cause his dad, Gene the Goat, was cheating on her.

 

 Eugene saw this grisly scene when he was only seven years old. And then Gene the Goat had rubbed Eugene’s face in his mom’s blood. Eugene professed having no pity for anyone but you could tell he was real messed up over this.

 

 But Indio looked up from his bound position and grinned at Eugene, though there were tears in his beautiful brown eyes. “No, I’m okay. Do it some more if you want to.” Indio paused. “I need to learn to be tough.”

 

Eugene looked at me, and looked at Indio. “You little asshole, if you can keep your tongue when I give it to you like that, why the fuck can’t you do it when Millard hits you?” I joined in, saying “Fuck man, I’d cry even now with that kind of whipping.”

 

Indio smiled at me, but it was kind of a buddy smile—Indio and I were brothers, not lovers, though I guess in a way I was always a little bit in love with him. But then Indio turned to Eugene.

 

“I know you’re doing this because you love me, Eugene, and I love you too…and I need to get hit a little bit, I don’t know why. But I know what I need.”

 

After this, I kind of felt as if I belonged elsewhere…can’t really explain it. So I split.

 

Eugene never told me much about what happened between them, but Indio’s a fucking blabbermouth…I guess we’re girlfriends at heart. I’d tell Indio about my affair with the Boysville bus driver, and he’d tell me about him and Eugene…and in that I learned about sadomasochism for the first time.

 

 I still don’t really get it, hurting and wanting to be hurt, but I’m just the scribe here. I kept journals throughout my life, and so I’ll tell you as much as I can about what Indio told me, and try real hard not to interpret.

 

It turned out that Indio liked getting spanked or something—they potty-trained at the State Infant Home by just beating the shit out of you, and Indio somehow, I don’t know, got it.

 

And Eugene was one little sadist, though he’d never take it out on an unwilling participant, thank goodness. But he beat the shit out of Indio that day, warning Indio never to cry again when Millard whipped him, and Indio promised, and then I understand there was some fellatio between the two of them. And then more stuff happened, as time went by.

 

Indio himself told me “Hooks, I loved Eugene from the start, and there was so much he could teach me, and much of it was through punishment. Eugene began whipping me every other day with hairbrushes, cut spruce switches from the woods, and when I was real bad, thorny rose branches…and I took it and took it!”

 

But Eugene was a cruel motherfucker at times—I came in one day to the dorm and Eugene was smoking a cigarette, and he had his feet crossed on a trunk, but occasionally, he would jab it with one foot, and laugh.

 

This relationship between Eugene and Indio continued for three and a half years, until Eugene turned eighteen in 1965 or ’66 and left. It had been a very secretive relationship, though Indio had wanted the world to know that he was Eugene’s slave.

 

 Indio had begged Eugene to humiliate him in public all over Boysville, but Eugene had had enough common sense to see that Indio would have been tremendously victimized had this happened. But in a way, it benefited me, that I knew.

 

 I was always telling Indio about Perkins (the bus driver’s) big dick and how much I enjoyed it, but we both knew that I had the hots for him a little bit.

 

So now and then, though Indio was not attracted to me at all, Eugene would call us both out in the woods, and he’d strip Indio naked in front of me, and give Indio a good thrashing with a rubber fan belt or that nasty straightened coat hanger…and then he’d order Indio to suck my dick and lick my balls.

 

And Indio would look at Eugene with tears in his eyes and beg off, but you could tell how hard Indio’s cock was while he was thinking about being forced to suck the dick of his ugly ol’ friend Hooks.

 

My memories of being in the woods, and Eugene ALWAYS dragged us to some place where there was lots of broken glass from where some of the boys would smuggle in beer…and Indio was forced to kneel naked while Eugene and I were in our jeans and T-shirts…and Indio would beg with tears in his eyes.

 

I guess if I’d been a better friend to Indio I would have walked off, but Indio was so beautiful—gorgeous tan skin, deep eyes…his pretty little nipples with their dark areolas just made me crazy. Sometimes Eugene would bring clothespins or mousetraps and lock them on Indio’s nipples,  and then he’d just curse Indio out.

 

“You pitiful little queer—I can’t believe that Hooks and I can stand looking at you, you’re so ugly and brown and worthless.” And Indio, even though he knew that Eugene loved him, would weep bitterly, kneeling naked on the broken glass. And I’d be watching Indio’s dick…someone had circumsized him, and it was just bulging in this tan glow, you know?

 

"Please Master, I love you, Master...I'd do anything for you!"

And it was true...he'd eat Eugene's cigarette butts, and lick the dirt off Eugene's boot-bottoms...it was sick...but Indio's petitioning Eugene did  almos no good.

 

Then Eugene would lean down and grab Indio’s beautiful, delicate little ear and just twist it unmercifully.  Indio would be sobbing, his hands behind his back, he was so beautifully disciplined that he could hold them there without them being tied, though he loved being tied.

 

“The only way that Hooks and I can stand to be around you is if you suck both our dicks, and you have to do Hooksy’s first, boy!” And then Indio would look at me, and I’m not a handsome guy at near sixty and I wasn’t then, either.

 

Indio would say “I like Hooks, but he’s UGLY.” And for a moment the three of us would laugh—it hurt me a little bit, but I had all the dick I could handle. I had appeal, you know? And the fact that Indio thought I was ugly didn’t bother me, well maybe a little bit. But I knew he cared.

 

Then Eugene would order Indio to bury his face in the glass and the cigarette butts and he’d whale on Indio’s ass for twenty minutes or so, and I’d have to keep from grabbing Eugene’s arm. Sometimes there would be blood, but I’d just stand there.

 

Finally, he’d ask again if Indio would suck “Master” Hookmyer’s dick, and Indio would crawl wearily over to me and unzip my pants and pull my long, thick penis out and just suck on it like there was nobodys business…oh, it felt good!

 

And I’d cum all over Indio’s face, and then he’d shuffle on his knees to Eugene and suck HIS dick as well, and then Eugene would make Indio do mine again…we were teenagers, and there was lots of energy in our dicks!

 

Finally after Eugene and I had both cum about six times, then Indio was allowed to jerk off onto Eugene’s boots and lick it up. Sometimes Indio would beg Eugene to let him do it in private, but Eugene was a nasty sonovabitch, though a good guy in general.

Sometimes it had been a while since Indio had jerked off… a lot of times when he and Eugene were in private, after they’d been fishing or in the Boysville swimming hole, Indio would suck Eugene’s dick for hours, having him cum again and again…and then Eugene would corn-hole Indio, but he wouldn’t let him cum at all.

 

So after Eugene and I had gotten our relief and Indio was jerking off, sometimes right as Indio was about to squirt, Eugene would start whaling on Indio with whatever he’d brought to beat Indio with…he’d swat Indio’s dick with the straightened coat hanger, and the boy would cry, but not make a sound.

 

Then Eugene would order Indio to start jerking again, and right at the point that Indio was going to cum, Eugene would whack Indio again, until Indio was trembling so hard he was afraid to cum!

 

But finally Eugene would let Indio cum and the kid would just make a real mess! Whooie!

And then, even though it was on the ground, Eugene would kick the shit out of Indio, slapping him and twisting Indio’s hair, kicking Indio in the stomach as the boy curled up crying…”You little piece of shit, how dare you sully our national forests with your gross spooge! Lick that up, right in the dirt, come on, you little half-breed piece of vomit. Get down there!”

 

And as Indio bent over, and was licking in the dirt, damned if Eugene wasn’t whaling the shit out of the boy, to the point that a tough faggot like me had to turn around…I just couldn’t watch. But Indio loved it!

But no matter how hard Eugene was on Indio, the kid just loved him!

 

Eugene wasn’t that much better looking than me—red hair and freckles—but Indio really loved him. Then about an hour later we’d three all be dressed and playing cards with some other guys, and joke around…but the secret would be between us until the next time…

But most of the time it was just Eugene and Indio doing their thing together….and that was great, because I really hated seeing the little guy hurt. And we had more fun as pals, the three of us, making smartass comments, reading books together, smoking weed.

 

And then Eugene left, and told us he was joining the Marines. It knocked Indio out, but we couldn’t blame Eugene for leaving, it was hell at Boysville if you wanted to have any kind of life.

 

 And frankly, though I never said this to Eugene or to Indio, I think Indio was more into Eugene than Eugene was into Indio. In the next two years, Indio got about five letters from Eugene, and they were all co-addressed to me.

 

But then the letters stopped coming, and Indio got real depressed. And he might have gotten no clue about what the hell was going on, had Sumner Beale, the head of Boysville, not gotten Indio in trouble. What happened next was a really, really strange story.

 


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