I was intrigued and tried to focus my gaze on that object, to know what it was that the boy, with a face like a manic killer, was hiding in his hand.
However, the drugs barely allowed me to concentrate my gaze on a fixed point, and besides, the strap on my neck, which literally fixed my head to the cross, prevented me from moving my head freely.
The boy smiled again and I heard a click, and immediately the buzzing of something electrical starting up.
Very nervous, I continued to struggle and insult the boy.
"Don't touch me, faggot, what do you think you're going to do to me. Don't even think about touching me."
The boy made a gesture to grab and introduce a gag into my mouth to silence me, but at the last moment, he seemed to think twice and whispered to me.
"I'm not going to gag you, it turns me on more to hear you scream, insult, and finally beg, or simply whimper like a piece of shit, which is what you are."
I was really scared.
He continued talking.
"Melenas... it's a good nickname. I'm sure the girls love it, right? Tell me something: are you proud of your hair, Melenas?"
Since I was fourteen and let my hair grow down to my shoulders, I had made it clear that half of my considerable success with girls was due to my physique, a model's body chiseled after years of gym and sports, but the other half was due to my hair.
The combination of both things gave me, despite having already passed thirty, that surfer look with a twenty-year-old's body, which caught attention and even made adolescent girls drool.
Obviously, I wasn't going to answer that character. I remained silent, looking at him with anger, trying to figure out what that object was that produced the vibration.
Then I saw what it was and a chill ran down my body.
It was an electric razor.
Terrified, I started screaming and trying to free myself from the restraints. Unfortunately, those straps could withstand guys much bigger and stronger than me.
The boy seemed to get excited with my reaction and crudely rubbed his crotch over his jeans.
Grabbing my hair by the nape of my neck, he brought the razor closer to my forehead.
"You don't have to say anything. I know you're proud. Your hair is your pride as a macho, a straight guy who fucks any girl who comes his way. You're a show-off and a snob, and today I'm going to rip out the symbol of your showiness by the roots."
He brought the razor closer to my forehead.
I was terrified.
"Has the cat got your tongue, Melenas? What did you call me a minute ago, do you want to repeat it?"
A thousand thoughts crossed my mind. I would have killed that bastard with my own hands, but I couldn't do anything. I was tied up, immobilized, helpless, and I had to prevent him from shaving me no matter what.
It was better to apologize, even though inside I felt like killing that faggot.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. It was a moment's impulse."
The boy laughed...