Beth’s leaving plummeted me back into the depths of teenage depression, leading me down a long, dark tunnel at which end no light could be seen. Not only had I lost the girl who had become my best friend, but I’d also lost my love. Together, we had shared the most special thing; we’d shared the loss of our virginity. No joy was there for me in the dawning of the new millennium, no sparkle in those celebratory fireworks that punctuated the end of 1999.
Some solace was to be found in the gentle kindness of my twin-sister, Jenny. She’d make every effort to comfort and console me, and would give me reassuring hugs that made life slightly more bearable. Even my older, half-sister, Katie, who stayed with us over that Christmas and New Year period, was being unusually kind. In the end, these were the only positive things to come out of Beth’s departure.
As the short winter days lengthened, things got a little better, until by March I was almost back to my usual self. Spring’s green shoots and Jenny’s patience had definitely helped. It was at about this time, as I was preparing for my end of school exams, that a very curious and disturbing event occurred. In the last week of March, pupils in their final year of school were expected to undertake a week of work experience with a local company. I’d asked to be placed with a firm of solicitors, as I was thinking of entering the legal profession, but due to a mix-up in the paperwork I’d been assigned to do manual work at a dairy, and despite my attempts to get out of it, on a Monday morning I found myself standing in a farm manager’s office and listening to what my duties would include. To my initial relief, I was told that I’d be placed in the bottling department, which meant light work and not having to deal with livestock. All in all it seemed that things would be okay, I thought to myself, as I was led across the farmyard to a small, isolated building, and there introduced to the three women who would be my colleagues. As you can probably imagine, I was rather disappointed to be placed with a group of older women and was little looking forward to what I expected would be a rather dull experience. Karen, the department’s supervisor was bubbly and seemed friendly enough. She was about 5ft 11”, of medium build, and had shoulder length, dark brown hair that looked, if I’m honest, slightly greasy. At the time, I thought she was quite old, but now when I think back I’d say she was in her mid to late thirties. Alongside Karen stood Megan, who I’d guess was the youngest of the three, at about twenty-five. Like Karen, she was tall, but rather more thin and gaunt looking. Her hair was bleached blonde, short and spiked, like some out-of-date punk rocker. And, lastly, standing behind the other two, there was Emma, who seemed the quietest and most refined of the group. She was about my height, at around 5ft 6”, with natural straw-coloured hair and a friendly smile. Emma could well have been older than the early thirties that she looked. What didn’t cross my mind about any of these three women, as I looked them up and down, was a single sexual thought; I didn’t consider their breasts, the clothes they were wearing, or what they might look like naked. Not one of them was attractive enough for that. By about mid morning on that first day I’d settled in to the laborious task of filling milk bottles, and listening to the casual jabber and occasional raucous cackles of my three co-workers. “Do you smoke, then?” Megan asked, getting up from her seat and heading for the door. “No, hmmm, I don’t. It’s not for me,” I replied hastily. “No of course he doesn’t, Megan. He’s a good, clean boy, can’t you see?” Karen chipped in. All three of them found this highly amusing and were in fits of giggles, especially when they saw how uncomfortable their remarks made me. “We’re only teasing you, don’t get upset,” Karen continued, with mock concern. “But he does look like a nice boy. I bet he’s never had a stiff drink, or even a stiff cock,” added Megan, sending all three into another bout of laughter. This was the start of a torment that would continue throughout my time there. By the end of the day, Karen, Megan and even Emma were all urging me to show them my penis so that they could judge if I was a real man or not. They kept making out that it was all a big joke, but I could tell that the situation was becoming more serious, as their gibes continued. That evening I pondered my predicament. It should go without saying that I was nervous of going back to the dairy the next day, but part of me was curious to see just how far these three witches would take things. What was the worst they could do? Their worst, as I’d discover, was beyond my innocent imagination. Tuesday morning came round all too quickly. “What time do you call this, then? Don’t you know that you should be here to start work at eight?” Karen said in a stern voice. “I’ll have to think about your punishment.” I suppose I must have thought Karen was joking with me, because I was only about five minutes late, but then I started to worry that she meant what she said. My fears became heightened later that morning, when I saw her with Megan huddling in a corner and whispering something about an initiation ceremony. Whatever was being said, by the sound of their laughs, both women found it highly amusing. “Right, if you are man enough to work here with us, then you have to prove it by going though an initiation ceremony. And because you were late this morning it’s going to be a special one,” Karen cackled at me. “What you must do is take this empty milk bottle into the storeroom and masturbate into it. Then show us what you've done. If you produce enough semen, then you pass the test.” With that, Karen and Megan grabbed hold of my arms and marched me towards a door at the back of the room. I remember trying to resist and calling out, but my cries went unheard. Nobody was going to come to this isolated building, on a lonely farm. Nobody was going to save me from this. As I stumbled through the storeroom door, Karen thrust a milk bottle into my unwilling hand with the words, “Let us know when you’re done and we’ll let you out.” Next thing I heard was a thud, as the heavy metal storeroom door slammed before my widening eyes. Shocked, I pulled at the handle, but the distinctive sound of a padlock snapping shut outside told me that I was trapped. A stark light fell from the single, un-shaded bulb hanging above my head. It bathed the centre of the room in a chill light that picked-out a solitary table, like a stage on which some Shakespearian play would be acted out. Around the edges of the room, where only gloom extended, I could discern the shapes of boxes and tins and a hundred other things on wooden shelves. From beyond the door the cackles had now faded, leaving nothing but the sound of my beating heart and the low hum of a refrigerator lurking somewhere in the corner. Not only was this a storeroom, but it was also where my three tormentors made coffee and took lunch. And now it was also my prison, too. Sitting on one of the three plastic chairs that were strewn around the room, I rested my elbows on the table and placed my head in my hands, while looking at the tiny reflections of light bouncing off the milk bottle in front of me. Minutes rolled by as my mind roamed and wandered the possibilities. It was no good, there was no answer; I was caught and at the mercy of my captors. It was about then that I started to draw comparisons with what had happened to me about eight months earlier, when my cousin Sara and her friends had taken advantage of me. I had been an unwilling participant at the start of that incident, and yet it had ended in my first full ejaculation. Just the thought of that sent pulses of electricity shooting to my penis, making it grow to an uncomfortable bulge in my jeans. It was then that I knew what I must do. Standing up, with milk bottle in hand, I unbuckled my belt, popped the button on my jeans and let my zip rumble downward. Second thoughts crossed my mind, but I bit my lower lip, shook my head, and pushed my jeans and boxers down around my ankles in one swift movement, to let my penis bounce and bob before me. All thought had left me by the time I took a firm grip on my throbbing member and squeezed it gently. Pulling my foreskin forward to cover my now glistening sex-head, I gulped in anticipation, before positioning my bare bottom on the table behind me. Leaning back a little, with my left hand I brought the rim of the bottle up to the tip of my quivering rod, until the cold of the glass became apparent. Slowly and very carefully, I forced the tip inside, so that the tight rim of the bottle sat just behind the ridge at the back of my sex-head. Then, with the bottle supported in my left hand, I began a frantic back and forth shuffle with my right, as I gasped for air and became oblivious to all around me. Suddenly, the storeroom door flew open and was followed by Karen, Megan and Emma, who had been watching my every movement through the keyhole. Pouncing on me, Megan grabbed my left arm and Emma my right, before lifting and pushing me back, so that I was now sitting on the table, legs dangling, with my arms outstretched behind and supporting me. In shock, I let go of the bottle, leaving my penis to hold it, and sway under the weight. “Hold him, while I get this,” Karen said, hardly managing to contain her laughter. She clasped the bottle in her right hand and snaked the warm, but slightly rough fingers of her left around my shaft, while staring directly into my fearful eyes. “Wank him off, Karen. I wanna see him cum for us,” Megan interjected. With her grip tightening, Karen began firm stokes that matched the rhythm of my breathing, but the more she pulled the more uncomfortable I became, as my penis swelled to its full size in the tight neck of the bottle. Pain, fear and arousal are not such a good combination, not for me at least, but my erection continued to expand. “I don’t think he’s going to cum for us, girls,” Karen said quizzically. “But I’ve got a trick that might help.” Karen’s ominous words tailed off, as she gestured to Megan to take hold of the bottle. Maybe I would have struggled if I’d known just what Karen’s ‘trick’ was to be, but then again maybe I wouldn’t have. Disappearing into the shadows at the edge of the room, Karen bent forward and reached out. Thoughts raced through my mind as I watched her pull open the refrigerator door and remove something. Soon, she was standing before me again, but this time with a tub of butter in her hand, from which she peeled the lid and slowly dipped a finger inside. I still had no idea of what was to come, so I must have looked puzzled as Karen approached me with a huge grin on her face. With Megan holding the milk bottle firm with one hand and my arm tight with the other, Karen slid her hand down below my scrotum and cupped my testes, before parting my buttocks with her greased forefinger and locating my anus. My mouth opened as if to utter something, but before any words came, Karen prised me open and forced her finger inside. Clenching to try and hold her back, I gave out a cry which just seemed to spur her on, until with my anus stretched to the point where I thought it would rip, I felt her finger slide fully in and make a wriggling movement. This sent me into a rocking convulsion, that within seconds brought me to the verge of a climax.
